#Tales Great and Small - RP

[crystal-grotto]

@smilingmxsk

April Fools fun continued from here: [x]

Well, at least the shadow of the culprit would look a lot different than expected.

To the perceptive there was a distinct largeness to it, along with horns, fur... scary to the unprepared. Yet to the changeling herself when she had mood for shenanigans, utilizing her true form gave Alex many vantage points as she had more mobility with longer legs and her claws. A small consequence that could easily be smoothed over.

Head tilting as her victim craned themselves about to find her, the flicker of form shifting is just as quick as Margret herself was. Stone body with saurian traits burns away into something less intimidating in with glint of green light (easily explained away in a city as LEDs) before the masked woman could focus on her.

A female with blue-blonde hair who was dressed in a hoodie, black pants, and hiking booted legs is what ends up filling Margret's flustered gaze. A easygoing smile hangs on lips as hands put aside three bags - undoubtedly the offending powder, before one stained blue gives a little wave of greeting.

[inkymers007]

Meet my Zelda BOTW/TORK oc! Sorry that the pic is kind blurry I'll try to draw him more down the line. I made him for an rp server and I decided to share him on here.

BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Kalvet

Nicknames: Kal or Vet

Age: 26

Gender/Sex: Male

Sexuality: Pan

Species: Hylian/Shekiah 

Occupation: Traveling Merchant/ Thief

APPEARANCE :

Body type: Skinny, but muscular

Height: 5’7

Weight: 159 lbs.

Skin: White

Hair color/style: Blackish blue. His hair is long and messy.

Eye color: Red

Scars: His right eye is scarred.

Accessories: N/A

PERSONALITY:

Basic Personality: Kalvet appears to be a kind and smooth talking gentleman. Which is true, somewhat. He appears that way to get clients to purchase his wares. As well as to throw people off his scent of being a thief. On the job as a thief he’s silent and ruthless. Almost as if Kalvet’s a monster rather than a human. Yet despite this he isn’t heartless and will give support in some way or fashion. How much support he’ll give depends on how close he is with the person who needs it . If they’re a stranger or an acquaintance he'll give them the bare minimum. If they're friends then he’ll do whatever he can to help them. However, having someone that close to him is rarity since Kalvet has the belief that most people will just like him to get what they want. So he tends to be cordial with people at best. If he does find someone who he wants to get closer to then he will be more friendly with them, but he will still keep his wits about him. With those who he considers as friends he will playfully tease them and will open up to them a bit more. Once he recognizes them as a friend he will be loyal to them. More than willing to go through hell and back for them. This is especially the case if someone gives him a scale from one of the great dragons. Since he always looked up to them because of the stories that his family told him. Speaking of, Kalvet is a great story teller, and will tell stories that his parents told him or stories about his travels. 

Likes: Dragons, dragon scales, exploring, finding new places, hot springs, voltfruit, sweet foods, telling stories, campfires, the desert, sand seals, riding sand seals, zora’s domain, swords, Faron, myths and tales

Dislikes: The Yiga Clan, the Yiga Clan hideout, spicy foods, people asking about his eye, bows, the cold, Hebra, lairs, getting into Gerudo Town, getting up early, and being a burden to people

Strengths: Kalvet is a very skilled swordsman and even knows how to use two of them at the same time. In fact his main weapon is two hook swords. Kalvet is also very perspective and remembers little details about anyone he meets. 

Weaknesses: Isn’t trusting of people and will bottle up his emotions.

RELATIONSHIPS:

 Parents:

Mother and Father= Deceased

Gerudo Woman (haven't thought of her name yet)= Adoptive Mother

 Siblings: N/A

 Friends/Acquaintances: Link, Impa, Purah, Paya, Robbie, Jerrin, Granté, Beedle, Kass, Riju, Pritana, and Nali

BACKSTORY:

Kalvet lived an average life in a small village. The village was small enough where everyone knew and got along with each other. He had parents who loved him as well as friends that cared for him. Despite being an only child, Kalvet had many children around his age that he could play with. He played with them so much that he considered them all as siblings. Every night before he went to bed his parents would tell him the stories of the great dragons. Kalvet was so fascinated by the dragons that he always dreamed of seeing one, or at least getting something from them like a scale. Kalvet swore that when got older he would take his parents to see the dragons. However when the boy was 12 his life changed for the worst. 

During the return of Calamity Kalvet's village was attacked. Not only by the Calamity itself, but by some Yiga Clan members. The once peaceful and beautiful village was now nothing more than ash and ruin. The fire roared throughout the village as he tried to save his parents, but unfortunately he couldn’t save them. Kalvet tried to find some of his other villagers. While doing so he found out that one of the older children joined the Yiga Clan. Feeling enraged and betrayed he went to attack him, but Kalvet couldn’t even come close to him as he was slashed in the eye, making him blind. Despite that he still tried to fight, it wasn’t until he was knocked out that he stopped.

When he woke up he saw that the Yiga Clan had been long gone, but his eye was patched up by some of the knights that had come over to check things out. Kalvet had explained everything that had happened, The knights swore that they would find and kill the Yiga who burned and killed everyone in his village. Well, almost everyone, that person who joined the Yiga might as well have been dead to Kalvet. As he residented him and resented everyone. Stealing from any and everyone for survival. It wasn’t until his teenage years where he started to trust people again. That was through his adoptive mother, a gerudo. It took him a while to trust her, but once he did the woman had taught her how to use swords. Particularly the hook swords. Still angry at the Yiga he vowed to steal any and everything from them just like they did to him. He would even make money off of them by selling their equipment to anyone who would buy it.

[writing-whump]

Bleeding silver

This is a Christmas present for my lovely friend and RP partner @clickerflight. Great writer and artist, your work lights up my day.💙 Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Flashback fic, when Isaiah was 17, an executioner in his family pack. Insight into his secrets about his father, brothers and the deal with Reuben. Angst, captivity, torture, mentions of war, mentions of death, mentions of abuse.

Father’s office was big, dark with lots of massive wood a fireplace and two smaller rooms for waiting and parallel meetings, but very few wolves knew about its greatest advantage - that it had a stairway leading to another office downstairs.

The basement office had no windows. It was that far in the ground and the walls were of thick cement. No sounds came out of there. 

Isaiah made sure no one was at the meeting room, before he went down, closing the secret door behind him. 

Reuben was in the same position as Isaiah saw him in the morning. Hands in silver chains leading back to the wall behind him. He could  sit upright, but he could not move up from there. Silver cuffs on his feet served no other purpose than to cause more burning pain. He was bleeding where silver touched him, the skin rough and blistered. 

“I brought you food,” Isaiah said, putting the plate next to his limp feet before stepping away to lean against the cluttered table behind him.

Reuben tilted his head slowly, eyes glassy and feverish as they focused on him. His brown curls were greasy from sweat and matted with old blood and he was shivering without his shadow. He still managed a sarcastic: “How very kind of you.” 

It was a bowl of soup. Isaiah figured Reuben’s last bouts of sickness could be traced back to the ongoing strain from the silver burns and that maybe something easier on the stomach could help. He could not simply give him whatever they had at dinner so he made the plainest chichen broth he could. 

“It’s such a shame,” Reuben rasped, leaning his head back, “you go through all that trouble to keep me alive, but I’ll have to say no.”

“I don’t care if you are alive,” Isaiah said on reflex. 

“Yes, you do. You know what will happen, when my dad finds out about this, right? Can you Wolfsons afford another war? I hear you are preparing for one right now.”

“You couldn’t have heard that,” Isaiah said, folding his hands on his chest. No way someone would reveal such sensitive information…

“Your daddy dearest sounded pretty sure,” Reuben said, a small smirk playing on his chapped lips at Isaiah’s discomfort. “He talks a lot like I won’t survive to tell the tale. I guess he’s right.”

Isaiah’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. His shadow rose angrily though, slashing down on the ground. He didn’t like to be left out of decisions of that magnitude. Neither did he agree with Reuben getting killed. The guy was 17, the same as Isaiah and the oldest son of the Jäger pack’s leader. It made no sense to kill him. Isaiah knew he could have easily been the one on the floor in his father’s office. 

“You should really decide already,” Reuben rasped. “You are in conflict, that’s clear as day. You bring me food, you come watch me when you father all but forgets, you worry about my survival although you shouldn’t. You want to release me, but you also want to do what daddy says. You don’t understand the logic behind his plan to torture me. If he killed me, it would be a quicker way to start a war. And your father obviously wants to start one.”

“That’s not true,” Isaiah said sharply. “Father only does what’s best for the pack.”

“So why did he kidnap me? Why this whole ordeal?” Reuben lifted himself up, hands automatically tugging before he winced at the movement and sagged back again.

“There is surely an explanation I’m still not worthy or smart enough to understand.”

“Ha! You still believe that? There is no way your father does things for the greater good of anyone but his bloodthirsty shadow. I told you. This is not how a leader acts.” Reuben coughed then, his whole torse shaking with the cough until it blew into a whole coughing fit, wracking his frame.

“I’m going to escape from here,” Reuben continued, voice breathy and ragged. “One way or another.” He looked at the bowl of soup in disgust, head lolling to the other side.

Isaiah snorted. “How? By starving yourself? That’s the big plan?”

“Why not? I can’t keep doing this forever.” He squeezed his eyes shut, sweat running down the side of his face although he was shivering. “I want out.”  

Isaiah was silent for a long time, shaken by the sheer despair in Reuben’s otherwise talkative arrogant voice. It’s been two weeks. He was running thin, constantly in pain from the silver, the beatings and rolled down shadow that came in irregular intervals not helping.

“It’s just because you are not used to the silver,” he said quietly. 

Reuben’s eyes closed in exhaustion. “No one is supposed to be used to silver. It freaking hurts. It’s poison to us.”

“See? That’s why father training me with silver is such a good move. Silver with shadow, without the shadow, seeing how quickly you recover. Look at this.” Isaiah crouched down and rolled down the right sleeve on his coat to show the ugly red welts on his arm. 

Reuben opened his eyes to slits to look, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Silver knife with a rolled down shadow. But my shadow is already back up. I have grown stronger since he did it to me last time. Every time I get used to the pain more. I know what to expect. And I can call my shadow to come back to me sooner instead of being paralyzed by the pain.”

“Why do you sound so bloody happy?!” Reuben said, face contorting into an angry grimace. “That’s not normal, Isaiah! That’s not something a father does to his son, or a wolf does to his pup. That’s not something a parent’s shadow is supposed to be capable of doing to its child!” 

Isaiah recoiled, covering the slashes with his good hand. “You don’t understand. He doesn’t like to do it. It’s a necessary sacrifice for him, but he does it for my sake.”

“For your sake!” Reuben exclaimed, lifting himself up in the chains again only to break into another coughing fit. Isaiah felt the unexplainable impulse to steady him, to touch him. 

“That’s such nonsense, Isaiah. This is not part of the training of a successor. Or an executioner. It’s just plain sadistic torture.”

Isaiah bowed his head, staring at the carpet. It was dusty, covered with patches of dried blood.  

“And you know it. Deep down you know it. Why else would you prevent your father from training your younger brother?” 

Isaiah flinched at that, looking back at Reuben. “One executioner is enough. This kind of training is for me. I’m the strongest in the pack. It’s a burden and a blessing. And mainly, it’s my duty.” For the greater good. For the good of the pack. They need someone like me, who can bear the pain, inflict the pain, understand it and protect them from it. 

“If you truly believed this was a strength, you would have trained your brother yourself. Instead, you made a deal. Your father told me. Gloated to me, really. That you think you can do everything on your own, so much your brother won’t be needed for the job at all. That you made a deal that you would not protest any mission if Hector were excluded from the training. And that Hector himself hates you for it. Stupid bastard, not knowing what he is missing.”

Isaiah’s eyes widened. He had no idea father told Reuben such intimate family affairs. 

“You won’t protect him forever. He complied to motivate you, but he is sure your qualms will disappear. The more you do it, the more your shadow tastes the blood, the more it will crave it. Until you become like him. And then he will train Hector too. Make him into another you. And you will enjoy it, just like your father enjoys it right now.” 

Isaiah stood up abruptly. His heart was beating fast in his chest, his shadow swelling beside him, reacting to his fear, to his pain. It wanted to claw into Reuben for saying that, it wanted to tear him to shreds, taste his blood, bite deep into him just like father would into Isaiah, to calm down, to feel in control…

Reuben smiled, blood in the corner of his lips, eyes glittering with fever and irony. “See? You are on your best way to get there. To the shadow madness.”

Isaiah stepped closer to Reuben, towering over him. He was so weak and pitiful. Isaiah could break his ribs with one kick, smash his teeth together to make him shut up, he could strangle him with his shadow…

Reuben said nothing else, staring invitingly in the way of a wolf making a challenge. Isaiah realized then Reuben was truly serious.

He wanted to die. And he wanted to provoke Isaiah into doing it. 

Isaiah walked away. 

After he closed and locked the basement office door, he all but ran up the stairs, into the office, through the side exit into the courtyard.

Isaiah braced his hands against his thighs, gulping in the taste of fresh, cold air. He needed to clear his head. He needed his shadow back under control. 

**

Isaiah sat in the smaller of the adjoined offices, doing paperwork, when Marek walked in. 

Although Isaiah was younger, Marek waited patiently until Isaiah acknowledged his presence. That’s how it was these days. Marek was a Wolkenstein, he had a powerful shadow and great skill. But no wolf could measure up to Isaiah’s shadow or his control or his skill with it. None of the older wolves, not even those leading their own fractions, their own little allied groups. Not even Isaiah’s uncle. No one but father could do it.

Isaiah lifted his gaze. His shadow was up, covering the ground around the table and climbing the walls. He liked to keep it in the open when he didn’t want to be disturbed. He felt safer with it.

Marek bowed his head, eyes glued to the ground, head tipping to the side to show his throat. It was more of a symbolic gesture, but an important one, showing his submission and acceptance of Isaiah’s power over him. 

Isaiah’s shadow wiggled in satisfaction, sizzling like water dripping on burning coals. 

“You may speak,” Isaiah said, voice carefully neutral and devoid of emotion. 

“The leader said you are in charge of picking wolves for the battle,” Marek said, lifting his gaze tentatively, though looking somewhere over Isaiah’s shoulder. “With the Specter pack. They send us their challenge already, right? You have the date?”

“The date and place have been decided,” Isaiah allowed. He didn’t like where this was going. He had been put in charge of picking the pack members for the battle and he decided not to pick anyone. He would go there alone or with father at most and handle it.

“Then…who is coming?”

Isaiah gave him a measured stare. It usually scared wolves enough not to ask questions and leave him alone. Especially with his shadow up like that. 

Marek gulped a little under the pressure, but continued: “You mean…no one? Do you seriously want to go alone?”

“That is my decision to make,” Isaiah said coldly. His shadow hissed like a snake, not liking the disagreement in Marek’s voice. 

“Of course, it’s your decision,” Marek said quickly, shoulders hunching. “But Isaiah, come on. Wars are about numbers. Specters are coming after us with at least 10 of their strongest members. We should do the same. We have manpower to choose from, wolves eager for battle and we are strong, Isaiah. If you said a word…”

Isaiah said nothing, just glaring.

Marek looked up before quickly bowing his gaze again. “Isaiah, please. If you don’t want to pick, I’ll ask. Only volunteers, what do you think?”

They both knew there would be plenty of those. Isaiah disliked it. This was a great opportunity to let go of some anger and accumulated aggression, but wolves would always be eager to fight. It wasn’t civilized and it brought nothing good to fight between packs. Isaiah wanted to do it alone, so no one else would bear the risk. 

“There is no point in having a pack, if you don’t let it fight for you when it counts,” Marek said, voice low and soothing. 

Isaiah didn’t answer, but he let his eyes go to the side, conceding the point.

Marek straightened up at that, voice relieved. “Thank you. Nothing bad will happen, Isaiah. Don’t worry.”

Isaiah narrowed his eyes. Suggesting he was worried was not acceptable, even if Marek had been his friend and had seen him train long before he became the executioner. 

Marek winced, backing away. “I’ll be going then.”

But executioners didn’t have friends. Marek understood that, yet still felt like he needed to look out for him. Isaiah didn’t manage to scare him away as well as he intended. 

Maybe it was the Wolkenstein ability to tell lies and truth. And Marek was well-tuned to Isaiah’s masks, somehow able to read between the neutral expressions, threatening looks and cold tones. 

Isaiah didn’t like it. It was as if Marek could see through his defenses, all the way to the little boy he used to be, when they first became friends with each other. 

Marek went to the door, only turning at the last second, eyes briefly meeting his. “It’s okay, Zaya.”

I know you are in there somewhere. You won’t fool me. I know this is a kindness from you. It’s okay. You don’t have to do it alone. 

Isaiah said nothing as Marek disappeared out the door, staring at the spot for a long time. 

***

Isaiah walked briskly through the halls, shadow slashing behind him. Wolves and humans and witches quickly cleared the way at his approach.

He walked as quickly as he could without outright running.

“It was a necessary loss,” his father said. Isaiah could still see his ruthlessly calm green eyes staring holes into his head. “People die in wars, it is to be expected. It was an acceptable sacrifice. We only lost two people, Isaiah. This is a victory to be celebrated.”

Isaiah fumed. He said nothing, only getting out the door, shadow lashing. He needed to get home, he needed to get out of the public eye. Away from celebrating wolves, from victory yells and champagne. 

The victory wasn’t worth Marek’s life. 

Isaiah was coming to think no victory could have been worthy of it. 

It was an unnecessary war. For territory, for not forgiving a slight offense. It was entirely father’s fault. And it was Isaiah’s, because he let Marek talk him into taking more wolves.

Isaiah let Marek come. To die.

Isaiah burst into the apartment he shared with his brothers, shadow trailing behind him, long and angry.

Hector and Arnie were both in the living room, eating. They had the meet and mashed potatoes Isaiah cooked in the morning. He always cooked for them, finding it the most and if not only enjoyable time of his day. Doing something with his hands that created instead of destroyed, something enjoyable that could be shared.

Hector stood up from the table. “Ah, there he is. Father didn’t even want me at the celebration, because I wasn’t part of the war in any way. You all happy about that, huh? Keeping him and all the good techniques to yourself, you selfish prick.”

Isaiah ignored him, getting out of his coat and removing his shoes. 

“You can’t keep me out of every interesting fight! I know this is your fault, that you keep me away from father on purpose - but I’ll get strong anyway. Stronger than you and then you’ll regret-”

Isaiah turned. There was blood on his suit, Marek’s blood, as he kneeled beside him as he bled out from a silver bullet. His shadow rose around him, spilling over the living room, swelling with anger.

Hector stopped abruptly, taking an involuntary step back. 

Arnie hunched into himself at the table. He was just 11 years old, used to his brothers, their shadows and their fighting. To the good kind of fighting, the playful one. When they weren’t trying to hurt each other.

Nowadays Hector tried to hurt Isaiah whenever he saw him. Lashing out in anger, not understanding what was wrong, why he was being left out. He was 15 years old, a very sensitive age for a shadow wolf. They needed guidance and direction, a clear example and goals to follow, so they could discipline their shadows into submission. Shadows that reacted to every hormonal emotion with a vengeance and aggression. 

This was a sensitive age. And Isaiah nor father could be there for him. Isaiah made sure of that. 

“Shut up,” Isaiah said, fighting the urge to just roll his little brother's shadow down and take the peace and quiet he craved. “Shut up for once. No one is interested in your whining.” 

Hector went pale, bowing his head in submission and fear.

Isaiah’s shadow wiggled in excitement at the gesture. Isaiah felt sick.

Arnie stood up then, a little hesitant before stepping closer to Isaiah. His green eyes were wide in his childish face, blond hair messy and shining under the kitchen lamp.

“Was it bad? Are you hurt?” Arnie said quietly, reaching for his arm. He knew he had to be careful with wolves, although he was never afraid of the two of them. At least that was ingrained into Isaiah and Hector both by their mother, when she was still alive. Isaiah never worried about Hector doing anything to Arnie and until now the trust turned justified.

Isaiah fought every instinct in his body not to recoil or shove him off, when Arnie gently touched his forearm. All his muscles clenched inside him. Arnie was all softness, round and vulnerable and kind, looking at him with those trusting big eyes…

Isaiah tolerated the touch for a few seconds, revulsion and disgust swirling inside him. His shadow steadied though, pulling back and down.

The oldest wolf stepped away from the human boy and then hurried into the bathroom at the end of the hall. Fortunately, they had two bathrooms and this one Isaiah liked to reserve for himself. 

He locked the door behind him, then opened the faucet to full blast and let the shower run. His hands were shaking so badly that he barely managed to unbutton his shirt and strip down from his bloody clothes. 

That was all he managed before the tears came.

The grief and pain flooded him like a tsunami, crashing the air out of his lungs. He slid down the door, curling into himself, hoping the running water would disguise the sounds.

He held onto his composure during the battle. He held onto it when Marek got shot, and when his mother bled out next to him, trying to save her oldest son. There were still two kids she left behind. Marek’s little brother and sister. 

Isaiah’s insides shook and twisted. He buried his face into his knees, wailing quietly, while his shadow clawed at the bathroom tiles. But he wasn’t worried it would do anything anymore. This was a way to let out a strong emotions, and he would rather let it out through tears than through someone’s blood. 

At least this time around.

***

Isaiah went down the stairs. It was deep into the night, the sounds of celebration still loud. 

He went down the steps with newfound determination. The conflict in him was gone, his shadow calm at his side as he opened the door. He didn’t switch the light on.

Reuben was sleeping fitfully in the chains, but was quick to wake at the sound of his approach. The bowl of soup was untouched. 

Isaiah had no time to be hesitant. He went down to one knee beside him, taking out the keys and unlocking his cuffs.

Reuben’s eyes widened, but he pulled his bleeding hands away, pressing them against his chest. “What's going on?”

“We’ll wait till your shadow comes back and heals you. I’ll replace the chain with a steel one, so the silver doesn’t burn you. And when the time is right, I’ll help you escape,” Isaiah said, voice hard and clipped.

Reuben’s face lightened up. “Isaiah, this is the right choice. You won’t regret-”

“In exchange,” Isaiah interrupted harshly, “you won’t tell your father what happened to you or that the Wolfsons had anything to do with it. Tell him you were on a trip or spent the time passed out drunk. I don’t care. But there will be no other war, you understand?”

Reuben frowned, lowering his voice. “That bad today?”

Isaiah stood up, leaning back against the table like he did before. Reuben slid away from his usual place by the wall, as if wanting to exercise some of his new freedom, though he was weak and didn’t get further than a step.

“I won’t let another war happen. No one else has to get hurt in this. You know what my father is. You know the only ones suffering are you and me. And you said it yourself, it’s not my fault. We don’t have to make it a pack business.” 

“Am I just supposed to forgive you? Just like that? What about my suffering, huh?” 

Isaiah rubbed at his face tiredly. “Can’t you just be happy you won’t end up dead?” 

“What about the consequences? What about the silver scars, what about the pain to my shadow, Isaiah? What am I supposed to do if there turns out to be damage I can’t manage on my own? It wants revenge and-” 

“If we go to war, I’ll go and kill your father.”

Reuben froze, mouth open.

“I don’t want another war. But if you won’t help me, there will be one and more Wolfson wolves are going to die. Jäger wolves are going to die. But I’ll make sure to kill your father, so your pack is hit the most, losing its leader. So no other pack ever tries to fight us again. You want to go that road?” 

Reuben snarled at him. If he went to his father and started the war, he would not be strong enough to fight in it. And he couldn’t defeat Isaiah the first time anyway, though they were very closely matched. 

“Fine. I won’t tell anyone what happened was your and the Wolfson pack leader’s doing. But I can’t let your shadow mad father run free, Isaiah, you have to under-”

“Give me a year,” Isaiah said. “Give me one year and I’ll deal with him myself. Just don’t tell anyone.”

Reuben would always have the knowledge that could destroy his pack. Once he was free, the bargaining advantage would be in his hands. 

Reuben raised an eyebrow at him, features hard. “Fine. In exchange?”

Isaiah sighed. “Anything you want.” 

@bellysoupset

[sllowshow]

aaron and bristol!

how did they meet? i think they’d been aware of each other through mutual friends/both being kind of like big personalities in a small town. i think their relationship started with him trying to pick her up at a dive bar though. i’m talking classic rp starter material, saddling up next to her and laying down that redneck romeo charm. and maybe that worked or maybe she called him on it and he had to get serious. either way, he’s persistent (in a not creepy way) and like really and truly i think aaron’s greatest skill is his ability to make a first impression. like this guy can fucking talk like no man’s business. like unfortunately i have no choice but to godmod that he’s leaving with her number. like ultimately i guess i just feel like their meeting was business as usual on all accounts. no one could have known where it was going…..

who is the bigger romantic openly? secretly? frankly i obviously have to go on my spiel here about how their upbringings put them in a very similar space like. regarding this. because they both grew up watching their moms and the ways their dads did a fucking number on her. like i think from a practical standpoint neither would really openly claim being a Romantic in the way i usually interpret this question because they know it’s all a lot more complicated than that. like i think they have the capacity to be romantic but neither are really romantics. if that makes sense.

who is more likely to plan something big for valentine’s day? i think aaron. even when like its just him and hadley, crazy kids running the streets, i think he tries to do something for valentine’s day. like is he cheating on her? maybe. but the least he can do is take her out to a nice dinner and bring flowers you know. like ultimately his mom did raise him right and especially as they got older and had the girls he’d want to make sure they were doing something special because that’s a way he reminds her how special she is to him. even if she’s fully satisfied just having beers out on the patio after dinner.

who initiates most physical contact? aaron. like sorry that’s just who he is and you can’t keep a good man down.

who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other? they are not sending cutesy texts. if they ever did it was aaron trying something but i just do not feel like Cutesy is bristol’s mo unless she’s doing it like. to be funny.

who is more protective? bristol. i think aaron is superficially protective with her, but ultimately he knows his lady and feels like very secure in their relationship. and i don’t think bristol is like actively insecure or anything but i do think like. even when it’s fully platonic and he’s got no other intentions he just talks to people in a way that can be easily misunderstood as flirting. especially when like it’s early in their relationship and he’s young and hot and insisting on taking her out all the time. i think they’d grow through it but it was definitely an early bump in the road for them that put bristol more on the defense.

who believes in soulmates? neither really. again it's too fairy tale cut-and-dry for them to ever buy into it. and maybe like soulmate as a term of endearment wouldn’t be shot down but at the end of the day, they’d only consider themselves soulmates in a sense that they wake up and know, love, and commit to each other every day, not because of an invisible string or great big hand of fate shoving them together. 

who cooks the dinner, and who washes the dishes? bristol cooks and aaron washes the dishes (until the girls are old enough to join the chore wheel, at least). bristol’s got the domestic background more so from the way she grew up and years nannying, so it just makes more sense than letting aaron burn hamburger helper. he definitely keeps his honeydo list though aaron becomes something of a weekend warrior at a point in his life. lots of little home improvement projects. and i'll tell you what he'd be caught dead before he'd let any of them mow their lawn, wash their cars, or do anything that involves a gutter.

who does the majority of the driving? aaron insists most of the time because he’s a man with a truck from north carolina. like unless it just really logistically doesn’t make sense, he’s usually trying to make sure it’s him.

whose family do they celebrate more holidays with? when they’re younger, probably bristol’s, just because aaron doesn’t have much family to speak of beyond his parents, they aren’t like a big holiday type. and his mom is more than happy to take seeing them like a few days before/after christmas if the rhodes are doing something. his dad stopped fighting to claim holidays when aaron was like in middle school, they just kind of see him when they see him (random saturday in late july he decides he will have a son). i think once the girls are born though, they take over hosting for some holidays at least, and kind of have it be a hodge podge. like it’s just not hard to just loop aaron’s mom in on what could otherwise be a rhodes clan event.

if they get married, what was the wedding vibe? i went back and forth on this a lot and please correct me if you don’t vibe with this for bristol. but i think they got married in a courthouse sometime in the months before sienna was born. very spur of the moment. tatum was their witness and the only person that knew they did it til after sienna was born, because literally it would not be fair to have a party celebrating their marriage that bristol wasn’t allowed to drink at. they probably had like one good party at their house after a couple of months where they debuted their gorgeous daughter and dropped the bomb all in one fell swoop. aaron accidentally mentioned it to austin at least once he just didn't put it together.

how did they decide what to name their child(ren)? yeah aaron’s ass did not come up with either of those names. but he was very much trying to be part of that conversation. i think ultimately they were both making suggestions, but it would be extremely easy for bristol to steer him in her direction.

[starlitangels]

Lol i know what it like being picky with my asmr. Theres just somethings a cant stand. Its not just the voice, its the sound effects, atmosphere and who someone can build a room without being blunt. Okay bare with me, these are all the series I've collected over the years and its ALOT(these are all series but i can suggest more oneshots) Here the list

-Rescued From Aliens |KimCarter| (More about roleplay with some storyline. Also alot of VA channels collaborated for this one. Alot of sound effects but can be overwelming with some viewers. Im pretty sure this story is continuing)

-Gator Boys |Obsidian Lantern| (In siren son's universe also featuring as a character. Good amount of storyline without it making you confused. Somewhat slowburn without the whole story being overly romantic. Turns listener human and the character halfbloods. Also okay sound effects. Story is still continuing but it takes him a long time to update this series)

-Demon Roommate |Yuurivoice| (More romantic roleplay with no real storyline, more like a bunch on oneshots with you two growing closer. Cute and simple with a great voice)

-Bittersweet |Yuurivoice| (A personal favorite series with GREAT storyline containing secrets and some lore without being confusing. Romantic, angst, forgiveness with a twink thrown in there for goodluck. Series is continuing but its kinda at a standstill)

-Daughter of Khan |Joseph Holloway| (platonic roleplay of sherekhan and his daughter growing up. Good storyline with great soundeffects without being overwelming. No real lore but still good RP. I highly suggest checking out his other works. Season 2 is coming out)

-The Theif's Tale |Nomads tales & Audios| (Decent story with good sound effects. Two thiefs who do heists together realize their old partner may not be as they seem)

-The City Wolf and the Country Lamb |Nomads tales & Audios| (Series that helped me through covid. Decent story with decent acting from a small handful of other creators. Romantic story with themes of little angst and some betrayal. One of the detective ones i like with more episodes on the way)

-The New Jersey Rats |Escaped Audios| (I LOVE this series! Mafia themed without all the overused sterotypes of other roleplay. Good story with good sound effects Series is at a end but theres a video of before this series which is also pretty good.)

-Strange lands, Stranger people |Hollow_VA| (More asmr that the rest of these series but still good storyline. Theres more episodes but hes not the best at making playlists. One of my first series i liked. About a mage escaping from their town but needs a guide through the dessert to meet who they're looking for, Luckily Jackle is there to charm his way. Im pretty sure he stopped this series without actually announcing it.)

-Daisy |Audio by Dominic| (Mafia x florist listener. Some mafia sterotypes but with a great spin. Decent story with good sound effects. Series is ongoing)

-Time Traveler Husband |Exhibit A| (My absolute first series i loved. Decent storyline with decent effects. Doctor who inspired romantic themes with a tad of angst. Series is ended)

-Wolf Falls for Red RiddingHood |Allegretto| (Smal series but still decent. Alot more romantic than the others but a cute story)

WOO i think thats all the series that comes to mind after about 4 years of liking roleplay audios. Tell me if you like any of them!! ^^

Well! Considering I've already seen a good chunk of these reminds me that I've been lingering on the Audio RP scene for... a long time. Like, Hollow_ was one of my first Audio RP channels back when I was in uni. I first listened to Strange Lands, Stranger People like 5 years ago or something? (I graduated 4.25 years ago-ish so... I got into Hollow_ like 6 years ago? Hotel Sanguine was actually one of my favorites of his. Which means I've been listening to SalemAudio for like ~7 and he was I think the first proper Audio RP channel I listened to back when he was still "unasmr")

Let's see, of these, I've seen Rescued from Aliens (though I was unaware it was ongoing. I'll have to check out the rest! I was really excited for the huge collab that was the first one though!), Gator Boys (Looove Obsidian Lantern's sense of humor and creative style), bits of both Yuurivoice series (I have a hard time keeping track of his stuff), both Nomad ones because Nomad is one of my absolute favorite storytellers, New Jersey Rats (Escaped is a chaos gremlin here and I'm here for it), and Strange Lands, Stranger People (as mentioned above)!

I'll see about poking my nose into the other ones and see if I like anything. I've heard one or two Joseph Holloway audios but never followed it closely.

I'm really interested in those last two! Audios By Dominic's voice never quite vibed with me but we'll see if I can give it a shot.

Thanks for the reccs!

[clockwork-sparrow]

Tales from the Frost

Stories following the conclusion of the RP Arc, TOWER.

Stories: [1] 2 3 4

Live your Todays

Sitting on Alvarium’s walls is a girl and standing behind that girl is a man. They’re only three years apart but that’s what it feels like to Gloria, sometimes. Everyone’s got jobs, hooked up, had kids, and croaked while she remained stuck in some mental, teenage purgatory of rebellion, discovery, and petty angst. Gloria pulls her coat tighter around herself and shivers from the cold.

“Fuck. You’ve always been skinny but now, you’re like a skeleton,” Florus says. He rests his hands on her shoulders and gives her a comforting squeeze. “…Stiff like one, too.”

“Piss off. Like you’re one to talk,” Gloria pouts.

“Hey, what’s worse? Sticking to meal replacements or doing whatever the hell fad you’re onto now?” Florus says. “Paleo, keto, activated charcoal. Wasn’t there a month where you only ate kale?”

“Kale is good! Not that you’d know, you tasteless prick.”

“Oh, fuck. Really got me there.”

Gloria snorts. Get stung enough times and you learn to ignore it. Besides, if Florus wasn’t being a little shit, then it’d be even more off putting at this point. Bantering like this reminds her of the old days; years of living normal lives, having normal wants, worrying about normal things. It’s behind them like a memory now, locked away by the horrors they survived and the loss they carry. Maybe she would have rather stayed in her middling, small-minded purgatory for a little while longer. It wasn’t so bad in hindsight. Gloria sniffs and hugs herself even tighter.

“Hey. I, uh.” Florus kneels down and takes a seat next to her. He keeps one arm wrapped around her shoulder. “You good?”

Gloria sends Florus a simmering glare because, like, of course not?! So why’s he even asking? As if anyone could be good after being barfed out of Final Days (and more)! Florus sucks in his lips and nods awkwardly to himself.

“I mean, yeah. Sorry. I know you’re not good. You’ve got literal roots tangled in your nerves and flowers coming out of your lungs and —“ Florus stops with a cringe. “…yeah. Sorry. Not good.”

“God, you suck at comforting people,” Gloria groans. “Where’s Ollie when you need him?”

“I don’t know. Dead, I guess?”

“Florus.”

“Sorry. I’m...” coping. He doesn’t say it.

Florus shifts uncomfortably in place and decides not to mention that his hallucination of Ollie is shaking his head no at him. He pulls Gloria closer and tensely breathes out.

“I’m sorry. Of all the people who should’ve lived, it should’ve been him,” he admits in a whisper.

“...What? And you shouldn’t have?!”

“Gloria, I’m not -- No. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Well, figure it out or shut the fuck up! You think I can handle you dying too?” Grief balloons in her chest, hot and near bursting. “God, I don’t even know how much time I have left. What the hell am I supposed to do? Where’s all this supposed to go?”

Florus swallows. It’s like his heart’s tied in a double knot and he can’t get anything out, can’t do anything right, but Gloria’s crying and he feels like crying, too. He tucks her face into the crux of his neck and presses his lips into the crown of her head.

“I don’t know, Gloria. I really don’t,” he mutters.

Gloria huffs grumpily.

“But nobody knows how much time they have left. You could get hit by a car and then, it doesn’t matter that you have some fucked up, plant cancer.”

“Great. Wow! I feel so much better.”

“Ugh, okay. Look. It’s not like you can pause life until everything is perfect. We’re living right now, so we have to live right -fucking- now, because we don’t know if we have it good or if things will get worse again.” Florus inhales deeply. “...But you’re alive. And I’m alive. And...yeah. It’s not over for us yet.”

There’s another heavy silence. Eventually, Gloria shuffles deeper into Florus’s arms and groans tiredly into his chest.

“You became such a sap while you were away, Flo.”

“You’re welcome.”

They laugh quietly. Gloria tries to fix her runny makeup, but no amount of fussing can undo tears. This is just how she looks now.

“...God, I really thought you were dead,” she mumbles.

“Me too.”

“Mm.”

And then, a dull absence. Florus and Gloria are both waiting for a third voice to chime in. The snow comes down hard; he can barely see the distant mountains now. Canyons, like scars, like rips in the landscape, in himself and in Gloria. There’s a hole where their friend should be. A hole, and a grave.

Florus wipes a streak of running mascara off of Gloria’s cheek.

“Let’s visit Ollie one day.”

[mannatea]

2023 was a great year for me in terms of writing productivity. Writing 285,000 words in one year was not only incredible—it's also the most I've written in a single year in the 20+ years I've been writing fanfiction. And that number doesn't even include the RP I've done (which is at least another 115,000 words as of today).

I love writing fanfiction. I love my blorbos. I love character writing. In fact, I love it so much, I spent the last 20 years convinced that I would never give original fiction a real try.

But 2024 will be different.

Tales of Symphonia has been an interesting fandom to write for. It's very quiet and secluded (as far as fandoms go). There isn't much overlap when it comes to ships/shipping, either, resulting in a very limited audience.

I've written for quiet/small fandoms before, but this is the first time I've written a multi-chapter story for a fandom like this, and in the interest of being completely honest I have to admit: I have mixed feelings. On one hand, I kneecapped myself by choosing to write stories about children/babies/pregnancy (which I'm certain cut my potential readership in half) and it felt pretty bad to commit myself to stories that didn't garner much interest. On the other hand, I completed two 100,000-word long stories this year—something I've never managed to do before in my entire life.

And I think there's something to be said for the fact that I did complete those stories...and quickly. I blasted through Break Open the Sky in three weeks, and finished The World Could Be Beautiful in something like six weeks. That's fast, and it gave me time to recharge while I edited and posted the work (which meant I wasn't relying on feedback/comments to keep going). That's incredible for me; I've never done that before.

It helps that I'm very passionate about my blorobs, and that I chose stories that play to my literary strengths (character writing + Identity), but that I managed to, for the first time in 20+ years of writing, write for the passion of it—without relying on comments/reviews—is a game-changer.

TO BE CLEAR: I'm very grateful for the feedback I received this year. @likes-words-and-shrimp was the MVP in welcoming me back to the ToS fandom, and honestly...without her influence (and @trash-god's unwavering support despite not even being in the ToS fandom) I don't think I would have done much writing this year. <3

But I did write—a lot—and it had me considering my newfound capabilities and my future.

This is where my feelings get very conflicted. I love fanfiction specifically because it's fanfiction; I love the characters, and I love exploring worlds and universes whose rules are not entirely up to me. I never wanted to write original fiction because I didn't want to have to try to create these things myself...mostly because I wholeheartedly believed for 20 years that I was the kind of writer who wasn't good at (or capable of) writing endearing or interesting OCs.

Do I still believe that? I'm honestly not sure, but I do know it was an easy excuse. You can't fail if you don't try, you know.

Moving on.

Here are three deeply, brutally honest confessions:

First, my spouse (the very one I met through my fanfiction way back in 2003) thinks I'm wasting talent and skill writing fanfiction that "maybe 3 people will read." He knows I do it for fun (the way other people watch TV, for example) but I think he's incapable of understanding why I'd work so hard on something I know won't get much attention. (I don't know how to feel about the "talent and skill" part of this. He hasn't read my creative writing in almost a decade.)

Confession the Second: while I'm not opposed to writing for a small (old, quiet) fandom with a 3-person audience for the fun and passion of writing my beloved blorbos, it is disheartening to spend literally hundreds of hours writing with very little engagement. (It's the nature of the beast of small/old/quiet fandoms, yes, but it still feelsbadman.)

My third and final confession is to say that I am confident I could get just as much attention with original fiction as I do fanfiction these days. (The bar is low, but that's the point.)

Look, I'm not delusional. I know my writing is heavily character-focused and, to that end, sometimes boring and/or ploddingly slow. I'm also very aware of the fact that original fiction requires a different skillset than fanfic—especially in some genres. I'm not doing this to please my husband (I don't think he actually cares that much) and I'm not doing this to quit my day job (I write too much niche bullshit to ever make a living writing), but damn, I'm at a point in my life where I think I'd be remiss not to give original fiction writing a fair and reasonable chance.

Will it feel bad to bust ass and get like three readers? Yes. But that feels bad regardless of the project in question. At least if I write a book and it flops horribly I can say I tried. At this point, it's more of a question of, "Why not?" than anything.

What's the worst that happens? I fail? At that point I'll just turn my original fiction into a goddamn fanfic. Reverse Uno.

TL;DR: I love writing fanfiction but it's hard to write for a small fandom, and now that I know I can write complete long stories, I've decided that for 2024, I will be setting fanfiction down to see what I can manage with original fiction.

Wish me luck, y'all. ✌

[rphelperblog]

Gilded Book Quote Rp Meme

book by Marissa Meyer- feel free to edit or change pronouns for rp purposes

“I suppose spite can be a weapon, too.”

“Absolutely. My favorite, in fact. Well. Other than a sword. Because who doesn’t love a sword?”

“Judging by your weaponry, I suspect you spend a great deal of time dueling and competing in target practice.”

“I may not have fully considered the repercussions.” 

“I’m just wondering if you plan to stand there gawking at me all night?

“The boundary between truth and fiction felt thinner every day.” 

“No, I’m not a witch. And I didn’t summon you. I was just sitting here, crying, contemplating my own demise, thank you muchly.” 

“The world was full of small enchantments, when one was willing to look for them.”

“How can you not? It’s your story?”

“Not every story has a happy ending. Life isn’t like that, you know.”

“I don’t think a shred of civility is unwarranted.”

“The superstitions of humans are so often the result of ignorance and ill-placed blame.”

“Suit yourself. After all, why he accommodating when one can be difficult?”

“Not every story is willing to reveal itself right away. Some of them are bashful.” 

“Books are meant to be shared.” 

“You only needed to say please. If you’re concerned with etiquette, that might be a good place to start.”

“I find that only mildly comforting.”

“That was one thing she loved about children. They were always surprising her.”

“But I prefer natural charm over vanity and brute strength.”

“It would appear that you’re trying to be aggravating, but that is my talent, I’ll have you know.” 

“A mortal in your realm. I’ve been paying attention.” 

“He was just one more jewel in her crown of guilt. One more person she'd failed.” 

“Unrequited love sounds awful.”

“Once my pupil, always my pupil,”

“this bargain is binding and unbreakable, and I fully expect you to stay alive long enough to fulfill your end of it. Do you understand me?”

“Despite your apparent disdain for this poetry, I think you’re a romantic.”

“I will gladly take awful over indifferent. Not every story has a happy ending. Life isn’t like that, you know.” 

You say those words like they’re bad things. But when it comes to the age-old art of storytelling, you need darkness to appreciate the light.” 

“Well, you might be a little in love with your own brilliance.” 

“I’m just wondering if you plan to stand there gawking at me all night?”

“If you’re suggesting I take a nap instead, I’ll gladly comply.”

“Your jokes. Your…pranks. You wield laughter like a weapon, a protection against your awful circumstances. I think you’re trying to create lightness where there is so much dark.”

“I feel so close to you both. Shall we embrace?”

“Would it hurt to ask politely?”

“You are very persuasive.”

“You’ll do it? You’ll accept that offer?”

“You win. I’ve decided to help you.”

“Absolutely horrid, but only a romantic would think so.”

“Of course not. But you still haven’t told me how, exactly, you plan to help me.”

“But that was nearly an entire year away. An entire year to dream up delectable, fanciful tales to awe and frighten the little goslings who were forced to attend this soulless school. Poor things.” 

"This may come as a surprise to you, madam, but your opinion is not required.”

“ Please. Do this for me one more time and I’ll give you…“I’ll give you my firstborn child!”

“I’m fine, Papa. Not kidnapped, not ferried away by some ghoul. After all, who would want me, really?”

“Would you care to hear a story?”

“I’m sure you’re fond of me, but to ask for my hand in marriage? I’m quite flattered, but we barely—

“Exactly. I always like hearing a story when I work. Or…in my case, making one up. Time slips away and before you know it, you’re finished. And all the while, you’ve been transported somewhere vibrant and exciting and wonderful.”

“But she had heard, and told enough stories to know that it was never wise to ignore the summons of a magical creature.” 

“My magic won’t work without a payment of some sort. It isn’t my rule, but there it is. You’ll have to give me something.”

“All of my favorite stories are about love, and I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about what it would be like, and wishing…” 

“It was mostly gloom and death and darkness.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m saving your life.” 

“Sometimes superstitions are all that we have been given by the gods in order to make sense of our world. Superstitions…and stories.” 

“Now, that’s the sort of education that might come in handy someday,” 

“you’re in my way. Please and thank you.”

“You aren’t dead yet. That’s a distinct advantage over just about everyone else in this castle.”

“Any ghoul would be blasted lucky to have you.” 

"Selfish child. You are already a blight on this community, and now you will bring wickedness upon us!"

Her wandering mind getting her into trouble yet again.” 

“Fairy tales have happy endings! The prince is supposed to save the princess. Kill the Erlking and the huntress, then they both ride on home to their awaiting family and are celebrated by all the land. Happily. Forever! What is this…this rubbish, what with the king stabbing his sister, the prince getting mauled by his hounds… I can’t remember all too many stories, but I’m certain that this is the absolute worst I’ve ever heard.” 

“What child could resist the allure of such magic? The images of fae creatures dancing on toadstools and water sprites bathing in brooks and songbirds with glowing feathers alighting on the branches overhead.” 

My job is to prepare you for adulthood.” 

“Your stories, I think they’re sort of like spinning, too. Because it’s like you’re making something beautiful out of nothing.” 

“I’m done telling tales. Starting today, you’ll get nothing but boring news and the most trivial of facts. For example, did you know that playing three particular notes on the hackbrett will summon a demon?”

“ That tale did not sparkle,”

“ But there are two sides to every story. The hero and the villain. The dark and the light. The blessing and the curse. And what the miller had not understood is that the god of stories is also the god of lies. 

A trickster god.”

“Lately, all her stories had featured haunted ruins and nightmare monsters and heartless kings. Burning hounds and a stolen princess.” 

Is the little human afraid of the beasts?”

“I will not let you toil here forever. And until that day comes, I promise, I will tell you the happiest of stories to take your minds away from all of this. Where the heroes are victorious. The villains vanquished. Where everyone who is just and kind and brave is granted a perfect finale.” 

“All these miraculous beasts,

“Would that I could spin straw into gold. It’d be far more useful than this…spinning nothing but silly stories.” 

A real witch—not the way some petty people use the word to describe an unlikable woman with a haggard appearance, though she was that, too.” 

“ The true beginning was in the before times, when monsters roamed freely outside the veil that now separates them from mortals, and demons sometimes fell in love.” 

“I’m already dead.”

“gold has caused as many problems as it has ever solved.” 

“Cats don’t get much notice, but a toad? Could cause all sorts of trouble at the next feast.” 

“If she wasn't beholden to the truth of what had happened under the full moon, then she would have no qualms about embellishing it.” 

“You couldn’t have told him you could spin gold from silk, or even wool?”

“ When she talked, she could hardly keep herself from telling the most outlandish tales, as though her tongue could not tell the difference between truth and falsehoods. She began to trade in stories and lies herself, and while the other children delighted in her tales—so full of whimsy and enchantment—the elders knew better.” 

“One can only go around kidnapping people and butchering magical creatures for so many centuries before it gets tiresome.” 

“ The child was forever marked with untrustworthy eyes—pitch black irises, each overlaid by a golden wheel with eight tiny golden spikes. The wheel of fate and fortune, which, if you are wise, you know is the greatest deception of all. Such a peculiar gaze ensured that all who saw her would know she had been touched by old magic.” 

“She was not dead. She was not a ghost, like the children, like the rest of the king’s servants. But what did that make her? Tired, she thought. She felt so very tired. Yet restless, too.”

[writteninscarlet]

💃 Pull my muse up to dance - it was teased, now I want it. ;; @lamentingwclf

non-verbal rp starters ;; accepting

Wanda held her head up with one hand underneath her chin, elbow on the countertop before her. Her hair, mostly dry now after a shower that had absolutely been needed, framed her face with soft curls. The shirt she wore had certainly been his at one point though was now not likely to be given back (or pried from her), but at least the bottoms she wore were actually hers.

Her thoughts had been wandering for some time; lazily hopping from one idle idea to murky memory.

There was nothing in particular that was holding her interest today, which meant time was passing a little slow - but also wasn’t it better to actually have a day when she was just… relaxing? That was the word, right? (ha ha, sure she knew what relaxing was). For once, her skin wasn’t peppered with bruises and cuts (okay just a few old ones), she wasn’t preparing to head out and thinking when she’d be back. There wasn’t a cloud of worry and anxiety over hanging over her or weighing her down. Today was normal.

Domestic, in its way.

She rather liked it.

The book sat before her had closed on its own some time ago, but Wanda looked back at it briefly with consideration anyways before pushing it away. Reading was a great pastime and already she’d there was a growing pile of books she’d picked up around the place by the seat that had rather become her spot. Just now, she wasn’t in the mood for an epic tale or small journey. Instead, she glanced away and Wanda felt her lips curl upwards at the sight of the little radio. Not often that she used it nor heard it, but the idea of a little background music had struck a chord within her. Now that it had taken root, Wanda was unable to resist. Music was necessary.

Switched on, she adjusted the radio slightly - what channel was it on? She didn’t know nor care, but the music had a lovely beat to it. It was down low, but as she stretched her arms above her and felt the material of the shirt rise up around her as she did so, the music washed over her. Perfect.

What next? She’d not thought that far ahead, but already there was a soft humming noise that— oh— that was coming from her. And a sway as she moved around the counter.

The plan was just to sit back, and bask, perhaps. Normal sort of like… chill stuff. Like, kick back and relax. Totally normal.

But the sight of Bucky derailed those plans, as the sight of him so often did.

It didn’t hit her consciously for a second, but the smile that passed on her features arrived the instant she saw him. Soft and warm, a hint of something playful. She turned away, beginning to move to ‘her spot’ on the seat before she recognised the song. Sort of. The name escaped her. She’d heard it a lot growing up, however. Had danced to it before actually - but growing up, Wanda had danced often. One skill taught to her from her mother, and a habit she’d kept up for some time. Dancing was a great love for her. She wasn’t perfect but she enjoyed it - and the hobby was a nice memory from childhood among others not so great.

Her face lit up at the recognition of the song, her step faltering before she turned and reached out to Bucky. It was a quick movement, but just as gentle as her look - though there was a growing playful grin, a little wondrous and curious because this was not a moment she was going to let pass her by. A chance to see if Bucky would dance.

A stupid thought, a silly thought, a playful one. But really, wasn’t that just NEEDED now and then? Surely it was! And Wanda wasn’t against showing off a few moves.

“Your timing is impeccable,” she remarked, trying to sound coolly calm and reasonable, (no no not sultry, not with the smirk barely hidden), as her hand reached for Bucky’s hand and her fingers intertwined with his. She pulled him close (as best she could, stepping forwards herself to close the gap) and let her other hand go to his cheek.

Slender, soft fingers danced down his cheek, to his jawline, before falling to his shoulder. Wanda could ask ‘dance with me?’ but now wasn’t the moment. She selfishly didn’t want him to say no. There was tiredness that she could sense in him she thought. but no sharp urgency in his gaze or how he held himself. …well, no more sharpness than normal. It was almost usual to see him… see him… like a wild animal cornered, tense and ready to do SOMETHING to keep them going. There was still steel to him, sure. But even Bucky could be eased into relaxation, right?

Wanda wasn’t giving him time to say no. Her body pressed to his and she squeezed his hand and moved. “Wow.” Her eyes widened in mock surprise as she moved, feet sliding and lifting across the ground - natural and free. “Amazing. It seems the world doesn’t end when Bucky Barnes dances. I should have tried this sooner.”

There was no doubt of the teasing in her gaze now, and frankly he was lucky she wasn’t pulling him in for a kiss, but she resisted and quickly lifted her hand (whilst at the same time sticking out her tongue) in a gesture that left no room for arguments. He simply HAD to spin underneath her upheld arm in. The more princess like the better.

Hair a little messy, ignoring that she was barefooted, she grinned, “Come on. Please dance with me.”

[crystal-grotto]

@ratwhsprs

continued from here: [x]

The passage had been empty one moment, and then occupied the next. Even if the act had been unintended, the rouge managed to pull a emotional feat that was not often experienced by Sturm when he was on high alert for any sort of encounter: Surprise.

Freezing as sudden pin-prick white pupils stared down at wraith-like company that failed to be detected by electrosensitivity, hackles spiked.

Had Sturm been so preoccupied with the task at hand that now rapidly churning thoughts neglected to pay attention to signals around him? Or had the mass of rodentine bodies that prowled about thrown the Gumm-Gumm off of the metephorical trail? It was the only thing that made sense as the man's fear-stink bled through foetid air and pulled Sturm back into the moment.

Red glow disappearing and reappearing in a blink to wobbly tone that came through mask the looming beast also took a half-step backwards onto one hoof. The motion squelches, machinery slung over shoulders creaks, and tail curls behind frame to compensate for disrupted balance. Then, after a heavy beat of empty air, accented words are spoken.

'...I don't eat humans, if I can avoid it.'

The stranger had earned at least a response for not running away screaming like all the others - and for narrowly avoiding getting shocked for his efforts.

'Not vorth it.'

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Name: Ayanna Ejiofor

Nickname: Aya (mostly goes by the name), Ana, Cutie (friends), Cub (by Taka), Scar

Age: 18

Birthday: June 15th

Height: 5'4

Gender: Nonbinary (she/they)

Appearance: Ayanna has neck long curly brown hair done up in a hair bun revealing the shaved under sides, light brown eyes and light brown skin with vitiligo, semi long sharp nails either a natural color or painted black

Clothes: She's usually dressed in baggy cargo pants and cropped tee-shirts/cropped tank tops and a large baggy brown fur leather jacket, fishnet shirts and leggings underneath and black combat boots or green sneakers, a black dog collar or a necklace of a claw, mostly clothes that help her move around when working out or running but are still cute.

Personality: Ayanna is very cheerful and what some say "adorkable" but overall sunny and cheery. She's a "too good for the sinful world" kind of person, loyal as Hell, emotional, but mess with her friends or family and you'll get her crazy mean side from verbal combats and physical fights

Schooling: First Year of Collage, studying dance and art

Likes: Jogging, working out, pop and alternative music, dancing, clay art, spending time with friends, Rom-Coms, nyoma choma, yoga, smoothies, romantic charms, fairy tales, happily ever afters, Country music, bike rides, Bob Marley

Dislikes: Assholes, being called annoying or childish, going hungry/being left out from eating or have nothing to eat, someone making fun of her skin, sexism, phobes, racist remarks, ablest, the smell of beer, when she starts crying and can't stop when someone's being mean/arguing to her or her friends

Abilities: Good runner, great cook, great with children, dance, gymnastics, fighting, boxing

Story: Abandoned by her parents when she was very small and was saved by police raiding the "home" she was left at after a long while of emotional and physical abuse that led her being nonverbal for years and suffering with eating issues. She was shipped to an American hospital from Africa at age 9 to get better treatment which seemed to have failed until she met Taka Ejiofor who was the children hospital's strongest supporter for years due to his youth spending there as well, and with his generous charity and seemingly understanding Ayanna began to slowly recover and accept treatment with her finally speaking when seeing him leave one day and running over calling out "Taka!" and then hugging his leg. She later on gets taken in by Taka who treated her with much patients and respect as he helps her study and go through schooling and introducing her to his family with his parents (whom she didn't like), his brother and sister-in-law, and later on his nephew Leon. With Taka's help and support she was able to be the person she is today though she still had a long journey of recovering, still does

Name Meanings: Ayanna - Swahili for "beautiful flower" Ejiofor - Nigerian for "I am bestowed with righteousness and virtue"

I decided to take a chance and make my own magicless/modern AU Disney Villain Recruiters based on many RPs with my friends, mainly inspired by @crazyyanderefangirlfan's Kemonohito siblings and their three friends Jane Vera and Dante

[notsoinnocentlittleangel]

NAME,   Joanna Noelle Carpenter

NICKNAME,   Jo, JoJo, Red and Fire and "every other redhead nickname you can think of," Hurricane

GENDER, Female

ORIENTATION,   Straight

PREFERRED  PET  NAMES,   "Anything cute"

RELATIONSHIP  STATUS,   Single (Probably)

FAVORITE  CANON  SHIP( S ),  I think Sean Maguire @sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins is the only one she has so far.

FAVORITE  NON-CANON  SHIP( S ),  She started out life as a girlfriend/ex-girlfriend of one of my other characters. She's had a few ships off and on throughout the time of this blog, but nothing really active at the moment.

OPINION  ON  TRUE  LOVE,  Joanna believes it exists, but doesn't really think she's going to get it.

OPINION  ON  LOVE  AT  FIRST  SIGHT,   Sort of. She thinks you'll likely have an intense attraction when you first meet the person you'll fall in love with. She's not quite a believer in the fairy tale aspect of it, though.

HOW  ‘ROMANTIC’  ARE  THEY,  Joanna's a romantic, but she doesn't necessarily do or need big displays of romance. Just show her you love her, tell her she looks pretty, kiss her, cuddle her, grab her butt, do minor things she likes. Maybe let her put on a nice dress for a night out every few months.

IDEAL  PHYSICAL  TRAITS,   Average weight, just a little muscle tone, nice smile, good shoulders

IDEAL  PERSONALITY  TRAITS,  Loyalty, patience, calmness ("I got enough emotions for both of us"). He needs some conviction and backbone. She doesn't want a man to try to control her, but she wants someone who can make decisions and who doesn't just let her walk all over him (see below).

UNATTRACTIVE  PHYSICAL  TRAITS,   Too skinny, too short ("I need a guy who can reach the top shelf") or extremely tall ("I don't want my head to be at his chest level"), too out of shape

UNATTRACTIVE  PERSONALITY  TRAITS,  Boring, a guy who's timid and shows no backbone. She loses respect fast if he's too weak-willed.

IDEAL  DATE,  Joanna's not too picky as long as she likes the guy and has a good time. Get some good food, it doesn't have to be expensive and in fact, she usually prefers it's not, then go out and do something. Though take her to a racetrack and you'll earn a lot of bonus points with her.

DO  THEY  HAVE  A  TYPE,  "Bad boys, apparently." Joanna does usually get with them because of her own lifestyle. She does like a guy with a little bit of mystery and perhaps a slight "edge" to him.

AVERAGE  RELATIONSHIP  LENGTH,  She tends to have a lot of brief flings, but if it does become serious, it usually lasts a while.

PREFERRED  NON-SEXUAL  INTIMACY,   Lots of cuddling, especially when it's colder, something like cuddling on the couch watching TV. Doing a little dancing ("spin me around!"). She likes doing "little things" for each other. She likes cooking for him, but likes it even more if he helps.

COMMITMENT  LEVEL,   It takes Joanna a bit to do so, and she needs to know he's committed to her. But when she does commit, she fully commits. She falls hard and gets very attached.

OPINION  OF  PUBLIC  AFFECTION,   Small displays are great: a kiss, a little cuddling and handholding, pick her up and swing her around when you see her. Nothing like making out in public, though.

PAST  RELATIONSHIPS,   She was married for a few years, married to Charlie Long not long after she graduated high school. It did not end well. As mentioned above, she started as an idea for a girlfriend for one of my other characters on another blog, who she may or may not have a past relationship with depending on the RP. Besides that, she's mostly had several brief flings here and there.

tagged by :  Took it

tagging : All y'all

[littlebitluckywc]

♡

some days, as we're apart...

there will be hard times.

but we'll share whatever comes,

down each road of life.

and if things ever turn out wrong,

you may turn to me...

and let my arms be your pillow,

when you sleep.

lay your worries down...

and rest your head upon me

and let me turn your life,

into a beautiful dream

on the worst of days...

let me bring you a good night

and if you ever lose your way...

let me be your guiding light.

- jaspermoon's final lullaby

HEYHO!!! my name is lucky, 21 years old as of september!!! i go by any pronouns and i am a wild hopeful video game developer from oklahoma that's been on the prowl for a looong long time now for warriors and some amount of pokemon roleplay! i absolutely adore small groups or 1x1 roleplay PLEASE come up to me with this <333 my drive is so wild rn feel free to send me servers or apps or just general dms (and honestly this is usually what i follow ppl for tbh, is abt interest in this stuff?? GHJWEGH but i laze with anythin!!)

i do a lot of stuff like dungeons and dragons and dm mostly things related to horror!!! i hope to eventually become an instructor for the computer science field to teach people how to make games and wild wacky stories, youre damn right i wanna help make the next wild warriors fan story game <333

but yeah!!! i mostly come from discord and are VERY new to tumblr but id love to see what i can get up to with yall!! pls pls pls dm me and see what we can do together, i absolutely adore wild stories and sharing tales, gaming and rp, let's mess around amd have a blast ^^! i mostly do things over on discord but i think i should get notifs on here!!

have a great day yall and lets see what wild stuff i can get up to!!!

"cypresssong... my last words? that's what you're asking for?

i forgive you. that's all. remember that, if it's the only thing you remember me by.

i'll always forgive you."

- luckyfoot

[onceandfutureoshainspector]

- alright, time to head back to Far Harbour and tie off all these sidequests.

- i levelled up in the bowling alley, so decided to take the Intimidation perk. it hasn't felt great rp-ways to be just senselessly murdering everyone who looks at me funny, so maybe this'll help me avoid that.

    - this should come in handy.

- delivered the Mirelurk Carapaces to the Mariner.

- reported back to Small Bertha, she ran off to talk to Avery about moving some settlers into the Lumber Mill.

Bertha: If you give us some of those Acadian Fog Condensers, my friends are ready to homestead that lumber mill. Avery: Surviving is about more than taming Fog. We got to stay together, Bertha. Teddy: Bertha knows this Island better than you, Avery. We give folk some Condensers, materials, and a chance to build defenses, and we'll survive all right. Avery: Well, I won't stop you. But until we deal with the Children of A̷t̷o̵m̸- settling the Island again... It could blow up in your face.

- it sounds like Avery is kind of a play-it-safe middle-grounder just in general. was the late Avery 1.0 like this, adding another reason for DiMA to pick her for replacing, or is this the programming he gave his operative?

- checked in with Cassie Dalton.

Cassie: Wonderful! That's another chapter successfully concluded. You truly are the heroic avenger I hoped you were. That's right, the farm is yours. Your own little piece of the Island. It'll take work to get it up and running again, but you'll have help. Now, I don't have to tell you that the bonds of blood and family are strong, as strong as any a person can know. But if you ask me, the strongest among them is the bond that exists between two married people. That's why the last part of this tale is the hardest one for me to tell. My late husband Daniel was the best fisherman this Island ever saw. He and his crew had a favorite fishing spot out by Brooke's Head Lighthouse. Turns out some Trappers moved into the lighthouse, no doubt because the Island told them to. They're all crazier than a bag of Molerats. Their leader was having a little target practice. Shot Danny right between the eyes. Killed him just like that.

    - (already did this one)

Cassie: Then it's done. It's finally done. All those lives that were lost... all those debts, finally repaid. And it was no son or daughter of Far Harbor who stood up to the Island and avenged the Dalton bloodline... it was you, an outsider. A Mainlander. The final chapter's been written. The story has come to an end. This is a day I never thought I'd live to see. Thank you. Cat: I found a holotape from the last guy you sent to the lighthouse. He thought your whole story was a lie. Is it? Cassie: A lie? No, no. It was true, or at least, there was truth in it. Was there a little harmless exaggeration as well? Perhaps. But some things are more important than the truth.

- WILL THIS GAME PLEASE STOP PREDICTING WHAT I’M ABOUT TO SAY THANK YOU!!!! ffs.

Cassie: Look at you, for instance. You've seen the Island's dangers and survived. You've learned something valuable. What's more, the Island learned something, too. It knows you're not some green-backed Mainlander who can't tell up from down in the Fog. The Island will respect you now, and that's more than I can say for most who step off the boat. Well, I'm a little old to leap up on a horse, but I have got something close to a treasure. This is an heirloom that's been in my family for... let me think... oh, for at least a generation or two. The Island knows this weapon. Oh yes. You carry this, and it'll take you seriously. Off you go, now. My story's over, but yours? I think yours is only just getting interesting.

- “at least a generation or two” pfft. i bet both the head and handle have been replaced a couple of times too. (didn't max out my inventory again, thankfully).

[mathcs]

Marieeeeeee! Happy, happy birthday! ＼(＾▽＾)／

While I've mentioned this before, but holy moly, sometimes I get so surprised at how small the world can be; of all instances that we can meet again thanks to the littlest of clues. Nothing like vibing yet again with a dear friend after so long!

Just like how we started off back (almost) a decade ago with our muses at the time, hardly anything changed with our ooc dynamic. This time though, brains went ultra instinct with the outpouring of ideas that led to an entire JLCU (Jude Law Cinematique Universe) that started with Xenia, Bad End, 2.5, Bad End Bureau Boys or constalelations, to having its own AU thru our current brainrot of MSX2G.

Of course, time doesn't account with how much friends and rp partners vibe, but even if we've been doing our own thing for YEARS, we just went all out as if time didn't pass at all! Not to mention I love Xillia and Jude so much, when I haven't even played the games at all (yet). That's one of my favorite things about writing and plotting in general!

Anyway, wow. I am so thankful for just having met you, even all those years ago (Jude Law quote moment [cries HAHA]); during quite the crucial turning point in life (uni), and making it super fun. And now, I've been working for a while, adulting or whatever, but living the life, and having fun in writing/plotting thanks to our adventures together. Thank you for being an awesome and supportive friend in general, not just as a fantastique writing partner.

Cheers to your day! I love you so so very much, and again, happiest of birthdays, Marie!!!

SHAIIIIIIIII THANK YOU SO MUCH T_T please, this is so heartfelt... you didn't have to but you did, and i'm so happy [falls over from finally answering this after reading it a lot] HERE WE GO 💖💖✨✨

we really did randomly run into each other again in the vast sea that is dumblr rp 2k23. whenever i remember that i'm also like, how on earth :judesurprisedpikachuface:? that's no small feat... just straight up crazy and amazing LMAOO gotta thank fate and tales of xillrise for this, aside from us just doing our thing. sometime after making jude, i just remember looking for more blogs, coming across yours, liking what i saw, reading your rules and pages like "why does the tone of everything here sound so familiar- wait, 'SHAI'? IS THAT GON ON THE ROSTER?! HOLD THE FUCKIGN PHONE THIS CAN ONLY MEAN ONE THING-" i really had to do a triple take, because the realization hit me so hard that i was actually like "please, i hope i'm not just seeing what i want to see-" 🤣🤣 but holy crap, it was you!! and just the relief/joy i felt after that (not an au version, inb4 jude law different timeline meme jk)

and yea more than a decade since the earlier uni days, it's so wild how it's been that long T_T i always say i should've come back earlier- i wish that i did and it's something i feel sorry for, but in the end i'm just glad i decided to do so- and especially how we've managed to pick things back up again, just how we were before, almost like time doesn't mean anything. you're so right about that. some things never change, you know? (jude law quote moment 2 [CRIES MORE LMAOO])

so thank you for everything too! you're truly a great friend on top of also being a fantastique writing partner, and i really couldn't ask for more. i love you too!! i'm so glad we met and i'm so grateful for now. bonus result: it's been a hell of fun time! this hype train just keeps on going >) and similarly, i'm not even done arise but i love law so much, i did even before i started playing because of how you write him/i can feel how much he means to you. and what we've done with him and jude- their relationship and interactions were so natural to begin with, and at this point, we already know it's writing itself in the best ways :''') [muffled i'd catch a grenade for you meme.mp3 in the bg]

and the JLCU (Jude Law Cinematique Universe), i'm somehow losing my mind over said term like I didn't realize the truth earlier LMAOOO and we didn't even go into this planning it... hey, that's a 100/10 in my book.

the day after my b-day is still amazing, owing it to the ask right here 😎👌 and once i finally buy the cake, i need to take all the pics... [milla vc: it's my mission] and the two jude pfps and marie simulator is still the best thing ever, thank you for indulging me 🤣 i'm going to remember that forever also...

[swiindlerfox]

— Please note that I only write Rang from season one because Tale of the Nine Tailed 1938 (season two) isn't a show I enjoyed. Outside of interactions with his brother, which were the best parts of the season, I feel the writers missed the mark with Rang's characterization.

Hey, my name is Starry! Thanks for checking out my rules. I only RP with mutuals, but will check out your blog when you follow. This is to keep my dash organized and know who is interested in actually writing with me. I encourage plotting, so please let me know if you would like to share ideas! Minors please do not interact.

I prefer to write multi-paragraph, but I’ll sometimes have a few smaller threads. You don’t have to match my length — just give me enough to work with. This blog uses the beta editor and trim reblogs extension.

I am happy to place my muse in different settings. There may be some that require plotting, but if we can make it work, then that’s fine. I feel anything can be worked out with proper discussion beforehand to make the verses match.

Any fight scenes that happen should be somewhat plotted out so that we have a general idea of what direction to take it in. This also stops accidental godmodding and forcing the other muse into a situation where they become ooc.

Rang is open to shipping but chemistry and build-up is required as he doesn’t trust easily and has abandonment issues. He is demisexual (and quite tsundere) and, considering he’s a nine-tailed fox in human form, is also open to ships with magical creatures (as long as it’s in human form.) Rang is a mischievous character and likes to mess with people and this can come across as flirtatious — this doesn’t automatically mean that he’s interested. He also doesn't do hook-ups, so please keep that in mind. Also please do not use his status as a nine-tailed fox who grants wishes in order to ship with him e.g: "my wish is for you to kiss me, sleep with me, etc." - consent still matters and forcing him to do that through wishes is NOT consensual.

Any NSFW that happens will be appropriately tagged and under a cut. Anything like that will only be written with muses and muns who are over the age of twenty-one (unless the ship takes place in Rang's past verse where he is also around the same age e.g both muses are late teens.)

I don’t send in passwords. Please know that if I follow you, I have read your rules. I will read over them again once we start a thread.

I will send you memes when I see any that fit our muses. I love receiving them in return and encourage you to send as many as you like! I will reply to them as soon as I can. If you would like to continue an interaction from an ask, you can either reblog the ask (since the beta editor lets you trim asks now) or make a new post and tag me in it.

I will check out your blog and browse your muse pages if you are a multi to see if any of your muses will work with Rang. I only request that you actively take part in plotting with me so that we can come up with a good plot that will keep our thread going. It doesn’t have to be plotted out in great detail, but a general idea of what we want to do will be appreciated. It’s also a great way to keep writing fresh and ensure that the thread doesn’t get stale before it’s even gotten started.

I use small text and gif icons.

I will not tolerate abusive behavior or hate speech of any kind.

I won't write non-con, dub-con, a/b/o, or incest.

I live in Scotland, which is the GMT or BST timezone.