#preferably written or talked ooc at least once!!

[261garage]

if you’re wanting to be affiliates on here, @killedbilly or @requelfame like this post and i’ll reach out <3

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Modern Thranduil x anxious reader

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 1:

A Dance with tardiness

Synopsis: An antisocial, anxious writer in her early 20s attends a ballet class under the teachings of a mysterious, reserved, austere dance instructor. They form an unlikely within their solace and past.

Warnings: mentions of blood

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A/n: This fanfic doesn't follow along the lines of the hobbit but rather a loosely spin-off au that only uses some characters. I do not own the right to them as they are Tolkien's characters and I respect his creation. (even if the characters might be ooc). Feel free to comment, reblog and like. Let me know if you'd like a chapter 2.

I tended to daydream often, more so when I listened to the music. The tune and tone of the song that played one after the other sent me to the realms I immersed; typically, anyone would daydream into another realm far better than their own: a princess, pirate, elf, fae—anything. My imagination is my realm of comfort, a sealed bubble that I can freely roam however I wish. Unfortunately, within fantasy, we must face reality. Within my reality, I’m not much of an importance, at least not one to have a whole written memoir about. I’m more of one of those faces you’d pass by in the street or grocery store, not giving any second thought to. Though I’d prefer it that way, I’m not much of a talker but rather a writer; I’m more fluent in my words than my speaking. Every attempt I’ve made, I’ve stumbled or become still; my chest would rise heavily and lower deeply. I always asked how people can do it, how they can speak—talk—communicate like it’s a piece of cake. I’d rather shroud myself in my isolation than speak to another living being.

At my desk, in my somewhat clean apartment, I was planning my next latest story in a saga of 3 books. So far, I’ve managed to get in contact with a publishing company via email who were willing to get behind the idea of a feature-length young-adult romance novel, a romance novel about a pirate king and a fae queen. The first chapter was still relatively underdeveloped, yet I’m willing to spend an entire day finishing it. I had only five months to publish the entire chapters. I’ve been a fantasy fan ever since I was a child. To me, fantasy is what the word impossible turned into possible. For ten years, I’ve been writing, and never once has it stripped me of what I truly adore.  

Whilst my fingers pressed against the keys on my keyboard, I received a text message on my phone from the side of my desk surrounded by papers. It was from my mom, who was wondering about my well-being. As always, I respond with the usual ‘everything’s going well—I’m pumping out new chapters for my new novel, ‘A Puncture in Time’, you know—the one with pirates and fantasy, new chapters soon to come ;)’. Even though she’s smart enough to see through my little façade, she writes back, ‘Hey listen, I know it’s hard right now, but I can assure you, things will get better; it just takes practice; I know you’ll meet someone you’ll find it easy to talk to’. I sighed heavily; within her words, I have faith, yet doubt. Should I choose to believe her, bite the bullet and try to speak up or wallow in a lie that can send her mind at ease? Before I wrote back, she sent a post with a link. I furrowed my brows as curiosity swelled my thoughts, my finger tapped the link. It was an ad. An ad for ballet classes. I thought it odd why she would send me something like this: I’m no dancer; I’m certainly no ballerina.

I replied with a question mark ‘?’.

A message bubble popped up: ‘…’ I awaited her reply.

As she was still typing, I took the liberty of glancing through the ad quickly. The tab loaded with a cursive font in bold ‘Les danseuses se réjouissent’. Scrolling past the stock images of ballet dancers, I came across a small section of different levels offered: beginner, Intermediate, and advanced. My mind raced with doubt; I had no experience in ballet, at least not since I was a young child. I wondered to myself, ‘Do I really want to take this? After all, I’m not exactly one for groups’. However, my mind was put at ease when my eyes came across an option for ‘one-on-one private lessons’. At least, I wouldn’t be with people who were far more experienced—let alone a group; the thought of many eyes staring at me—would have my heart sink. As I clicked the option, I was astounded; there were no reviews, pictures, or even a description of the instructor. I was sceptical. Surely, if you were to teach a class, you’d have at least a brief introduction of yourself. Even as an author, I have a concise introduction in my publications. I lightly sighed, weighing my options; on the one hand, it’ll please my mom, get me out of the apartment, and keep me fit; on the other hand, despite being private, I’m meeting someone I don’t know. Who knows what this person’s intention is, even if it’s for a class.

Finally, I heard a ‘ding’ as she replied, ‘Please try, at least for me; it’ll be good for your health, and you once mentioned you wanted to be a ballerina. I know the world isn’t always what we want it to be, but I know you can make it shine; I’ve seen it in your novels; give this a chance, give them a chance, to show them how you can shine, because I know you’ll be the brightest star there :).’

My eyes softened as I read every word; I couldn’t deny she had a way of getting through to me. She was always a caring woman, along with my dad. They were the only two people I could speak to without pressure or the weight in my chest.

I pressed back onto the tab with the private lessons. I clicked to see the booking dates—there’s an option to book for tomorrow, and the price is only $45 per lesson. For the price, it wasn’t too bad; yet still expensive. I filled in the details required to send the booking through, yet my finger hovered as I was about to press ‘confirm’. My mind came to a tussle of thoughts and hesitations; this would be the first time, in a long time, that I would speak face-to-face with an actual living being. However, I recalled Mom's words, ‘Because I know you’ll be the brightest star there’.

Breathing in—I pushed it, I pressed confirm.

I did it. I’m going to attend a ballet class. My head slowly lowers onto my desk, surrounded by papers. My hair dangled over my forehead. The adrenaline that reached the height of my mentality came crashing down. It’s like going on a rollercoaster you didn’t ask for, coming from the highest point of the rail down to the pit below. I start to feel light-headed. I want to sleep. I want to stay here. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. What if this doesn’t work out?

I rose slowly from my desk chair, picked up my phone, and texted, ‘I’ve booked lessons for tomorrow…I hope you're right about this.’

I watched as once more, awaiting her response, ‘…’

‘Oh, I’m so happy, you’ll fit right in, I know it :)’ she texted.

I didn’t respond. She’s pleased, at least.

I decided to call it a night; I’ve had enough pressure for one day. I logged off, cleaned the papers on my desk, pushed them into a neat-ish pile and headed to the bathroom to shower. As I opened the door, I went inside to set down my pyjamas by the medium-small bathtub’s acrylic side rim. My bathroom isn’t big exactly, but neither is it small. It’s moderate for what it was: a bathtub, shower, toilet, sink, and a medium-sized mirror in the same room. It’s not precisely palace material, but it helps soothe my thoughts. I held my hand out as I turned on the shower, feeling the trickling water against my skin. The temperature quickly changed from cold to warm in just five seconds. Once I was satisfied, I stripped bare, sliding my long-sleeved green shirt off and sliding my darker tracksuit pants. I tossed my unmentionables inside the bathtub. I stepped inside the shower, allowing the warm water to run freely down my skin. I shut the shower enough to have a slit entrance still. I grabbed the soap, rubbing it over my skin, arms, legs, and body. I splashed water on my face as the water rinsed the suds away. I hovered my hands in my eyesight, glancing closer at my fingers. I could see the redness and patches from where I’d picked my skin; it’s a habit I developed since childhood. The habit would annoy Mom, often whispering or saying straight, “Stop picking”, even touching my hand to remind me. Unfortunately, this habit hasn’t subsided; I sometimes even look at my skin with little care, picking the cuticles or rough patches.

Once I finished scrubbing my body with soap, I turned off the water and opened the shower door to step onto the bathmat. I grabbed a towel from the single towel rack located beside the shower. I dried my body, running the towel over my skin. As I wrapped the towel around my body, I glanced at my face in the mirror above the sink. They say eyes are the most expressive in emotion. My narrowed, pinkish lips thinned.

I snapped out of my gaze, continuing to slip on my long blue pants decorated in owl prints, then, the next, a long-sleeve top with the basic purple on them topped with a giant owl embroidered in the front area. Owls have always resonated with me, whether it's their symbolism or captivating beauty. I placed the towel on the side of the bathtub’s rim. I picked up my previous clothes and took it into my bedroom. My bedroom was also medium sized, having a queen-sized bed and an oaken cupboard with a mirrored wardrobe. My room was decorated with tiny figurines I’d collect overtime, albeit from movies I’ve fancied or books. I placed the clothes in my hamper basket behind my door. My body relaxed when my eyes lingered toward my bed, the messy, deep blue sheets draped to the left side. I dismissed the thought of tucking them in for the time being, only plonking myself onto the mattress and wrapping myself within the single cotton sheets and doona drifting off.

Dreaming is the easy part, letting what visions came to my mind run wild. Sometimes, it’s suitable for inspiration, but other times, it's nightmares. The imagination is still enchanting, although, this time, it was peculiar. I was in a birdcage decorated with gold; the entrance was bolted shut; my hands gripped the golden rods holding the cage together. I tried to scream but to no avail. I tried to shake the cage, yet I was too small to provoke movement. My body lowered, feeling the coldness of the metal plate below. I had nothing but rosy ribbon pointe shoes. I suddenly felt myself, in no control, rise as though my limbs were attached to strings. I started to dance, my arms and legs stretching to fit the perfect movements. Eventually, I stopped mid-movement, standing on one leg while extending the other behind. I couldn’t move; I was frozen in place. I could do nothing but shut my eyes.

Suddenly, I woke up; my eyes fluttered open from the confusion I had just endured. Rising from the bed, I pondered for a few seconds. ‘What on earth did I dream about?’. My hands pressed against my face, trying to comprehend my dream and reality. I pulled the sheets off me and got up for the morning. A typical morning for me results in the usual routine: dressing, brushing my teeth and hair, and then looking forward to what the day offers me. Until I remembered that I had booked that class. I typically picked out green tracksuit pants with a white singlet, hoping that would suffice. I picked up my purse and headed out the door to my car. I entered inside, placing my purse in the front seat as I turned on the white car. I noticed outside that it started to snow. Snow is beautiful, especially the little snowflakes that fall into your hand and dissolve upon touch.

As the car started, I prepared to drive to wherever it was that awaited me. The location was further from where I lived; it must’ve been at least twenty-eight minutes. The drive wasn’t particularly bothersome for me; when you live in New York, you get used to the traffic.

As I drove, the snowflakes emerged in more significant numbers. Eventually, I found parking just next to the side of a café. I wasn’t aware if it was for the staff or guests. However, it seemed empty with only a few cars, so—if I get called out on it, I’ll move my car. No one seemed to notice, so I assumed I was okay. I grabbed my black parker from the back and zipped it up. Exiting the car, I stopped to admire the snow falling for a few seconds. It was January 4th, so the snow season was still here. My hands shoved in my pockets, beginning to wander toward where I needed to be. According to the ad, it was building ‘52’; it was vague, I know, but it was the details given. I trudged through the snow, seeing building after building, until I came across something with the number ‘52’, where I needed to be. My hand gripped the gold-looking handle attached to the glass door. As I entered, I came upon a staircase; I took one step after the other. I quickly glanced at the ad to see what floor it was on, yet to no avail. Was it the ‘4th floor? Oh god, oh god, please don’t resort to me asking someone. My fingers started to twitch; I raised one of my fingertips to my lips, feeling the rough patches. My thumb started scraping off the first layer, and small blood trickles formed. I ran my fingers over my lips again as I trailed up the stairs. I could feel my chest becoming heavier, my mind swell with thoughts of self-doubt. Suddenly, the anxiety soon started to subside as my eyes saw the sight of a door. My fingers hesitantly wrapped around the door handle; I took one breath in, trying to be brave. I pushed it open—only for my worst nightmare to come to life.

My breathing became heavier, my heart sank, my eyelids widened, and I could feel myself hyperventilating. There was a group of ballerinas staring directly at me. There must’ve been at least four? Five? Looking my way! Their ages varied, going into their late 20s.

The one brunette asked in French “es-tu perdu, cherches quelqu’un”.

I couldn’t concentrate; my mind dwelled with clouded thoughts of judgment. I pressed my finger against my lip, trying to feel the rough patches.

Another asked in English, “My friend asked if you’re searching for someone”.

Quickly, my eyes diverted to the ground, avoiding their gaze. “I-I-, pr-viate, less-on”. I stumbled over my words.

“Lessons? Private lessons?” the girl spoke once more.

I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

As I quickly glanced, a middle-aged woman in her mid-forties stepped closer; I assumed she was the dance teacher. “Are you referring to the private dance lessons advertised? the one taught by Mr. Oropherion?”.

I paused for a moment, trying to gather my words. Mr Oropherion? Is he the teacher I’m with?

“I-Is. This. Right. Floor.” I tried to sound out the right words, but it was impossible. Perhaps my conscience was right; perhaps this was a terrible idea.

The middle-aged woman, confused, pointed toward the direction I needed to go. “you’ll need to head up one more level, then head to your right” Her voice was calm with a hint of soprano.

Still avoiding eye contact, I left, not even saying thank you, focusing on wanting to escape. I closed the door in front and let out a heavy breath. My head lowered to touch the tip of my hands. I wanted to melt in that moment; I wanted nothing more than to return home. However, I reminded myself that I was doing this for Mom. I breathed in once more, looking up at the door; my hands quickly released, and I began to walk quickly, edging further up the stairs. My mind came crashing down, feeling the dreariness wash over me. Feeling tired, I finally, at last, came across the door I needed to be. It was blank, the painted white withering away around the edges. My hand reached the doorknob, feeling the roundness, turning it slightly. I could feel the adrenaline kick in. I was hesitant, but my nerves started to build.

I started to whisper to myself, “Just a general hello, that’s all it takes—

You're doing this for Mom—

Give them a chance to show them how I can shine; give them a chance to see who I am because I’ll be the brightest star there”.

 I breathed in, closing my eyes and opening the door. As I tried to force my eyes open, I was confused. There was no one here. It was an empty space surrounded by mirrors with bar beams attached to them. My eyes scanned the room, yet no one was there. I suppose I should be relieved, maybe the teacher had caught a sickness and decided to ditch the whole class. I wandered further inside; I might as well take a quick peek. I unzipped my black parker with a furry hood, tossed it on the coat hanger and took off my shoes, leaving my white socks on. I stood in the middle of the dance room, embracing the quiet ambience. I looked in the mirrors, reflecting my figure. Was this even what ballerinas wear? Who even is Mr. Oropherion? If he doesn’t show up in the next 15 minutes, I’m heading off and not returning.

Perhaps Aelwynn, the fae queen in my novel, would’ve also been able to dance freely and eloquently in movement. I still wonder what would entrance the pirate king Sarek Salazar. I never pictured him to be devilishly handsome, though. I suppose Aelwynn would be a beauty, but there must be more to it—beauty can only go so far in their bond; what would their obstacles or hardships be? Perhaps the fae queen is somewhat intertwined with difference, the opposite of a fairytale. Aelwynn is fair, kind, beautiful and strong; she meets all the criteria for something otherworldly, yet what if Sarek is her opposite, a beast? No—What if he was average, a gross-looking thing? Pirates are anyway; what if he wasn’t powerful, just an average man with greed—and the dynamic changes, challenging Sarek to choose between the love of his life or treasure?

Or he would choose—

Suddenly, I heard a male voice emit behind me: “You best have a thorough explanation, girl. Do not even think about squandering my precious time.”

My breathing became heavier as I realized someone was speaking to me. I did not turn around; I was afraid to. Instead, I avoided eye contact, too paralysed to move. My head stooped low, and my hands stood to the side. He spoke again, “Clearly, you are here for a reason, are you not? I’ll admit your intrusion is rather fatuous.”

I didn’t glance up; I couldn’t look; I needed time to gather the words to explain. What should I say? Hey, sir, some ballerinas told me to come here, and I fear speaking to people.

“I see you have a mouth; that means you must have a tongue. Go on, speak.” His voice was deep and tranquil, composed yet icy.

I took a deep breath in, slowly turning around. As my legs moved, I slowly gathered the courage to look into the man’s eyes, even if I muttered a ‘hello’. It would be enough. As my head glanced up to meet his, I noticed his appearance.

He—was like—something out of a fairytale. His face was lean and chiselled; his eyes were like ice; his blueish-greyish irises complemented his cold gaze. His hair tressed down like water reaching his chest, light like snow. Whilst his skin was pale in comparison, a fair tone in colour. His attire seemed far more affluent than mine, donning a black trench coat with white underneath. His trousers complimented the darkness of his coat, and his black loafers were polished. I glanced at his right finger, an oval-shaped ring with a diamond glass stone crafted in sterling silver.

“Did you hear me not the first-time girl?” his tone turned stern.

My mouth moved, finally finding the words to speak. “H-hello, I’m Y/n”.

 “y/n?” he muttered.

My eyes glanced downward once more as I slowly nodded.

“So, you have a voice after all, pray, tell. Why are you lingering in my domain?” he said shortly.

I muttered “private lessons”, though my voice sounded like a whisper.

“Ah, so you’ve seen the ad; I suppose you haven’t wasted our time after all, although you are five minutes late; I expect punctuality, to be exactly on time at the hour.” His voice sounded stern once more.

Well gee, it’s not like it’s my first time here, and gotten lost. My eyes still avoided his; I couldn’t look up, so I nodded.

He didn't react when I avoided his gaze, dismissing it. However, he commented on something else: “Your posture is lamentable. Stand up straighter like so.” The tip of his finger lightly touched my chin, lifting it to meet his gaze. I didn’t turn away precisely, yet I still flinched. My breathing slowed down as I once more met his gaze. His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned.

“You stand there like a bird, wounded by the natures of evil, ignorant of the world’s knowledge, caged and sheltered from the shadows that lurk within the realm. Tell me, little bird, care to spread your wings?” I glanced at myself in the mirror, standing straighter. I could feel the flush in my cheeks, but I didn’t say anything, only breathing slowly.

 His finger pulled away, and he turned his back to me, walking away.

“I expect to see you here tomorrow at exactly the seventh hour of the night”.

“Do not make me regret my decision, or you shall return to the cage from where you came, little bird”, He muttered.

With that, he walked out of the room, distancing himself further and further away. At that moment, I stood in disbelief for a few seconds, trying to understand what had happened. However, once my thoughts were collected, I gathered my things and scurried out of there, wanting nothing more than to enter my car. Once I exited the building, I was hit with the coldness in temperature as it touched my face.

I opened the car door, tossing my things in the back, turning the engine on. I looked back, trying to see the building to the left. As I drove, my thoughts were plagued with astonishment. I didn’t look away; I maintained eye contact for longer than three seconds, and—I managed to speak my name without stumbling over my words. My emotions displayed were as if I’d seen a ghost. Yet—his face—his appearance—it reminded me of snow; I always loved snow; even when I was a child, it was the happiest of my memories. I recall when my parents took me to the park; I was fascinated by the sight of the winter wonderland, my face lighting up with delight and laughing with joy. I always find that snow rekindles the fond memories I have.

Perhaps Mom was right after all; this might be the start of something I’ve never been able to do. Talk.

[sugar-satin]

All Info Regarding Roleplay!

→ Writing Style

Preferred Point of View:

I use third person limited only! I know my characters actions and thoughts and internal feelings, but I do not like when my roleplay partner takes over my oc! Please do not think or act for my character as I won't do that for you either! (This does not apply to us ooc if you are the type to send content because you think it's very my-oc etc.!)

Narrative Tone:

I use a lot of terms and slang that are improper depending on the character I am writing, but for the most part I try to maintain a romantic and whimsical tone. I prefer airy, lofty, flowery uses of words when the scene calls for it! And I'm perfectly fine with a simple, brisk, response as well (if warranted).

Pacing:

Slow burn is my favorite element of roleplay! Feeling like you're waiting for the latest new episode of your favorite show to drop is half the fun of a good plot! I am the type of roleplayer who does not mind making a server for our roleplay, therefore if you start to get bored of the "canon" plot we can start another slow burn that's new, or even create a rushed romance, in the form of an au!!

Detail Level:

I'm very detailed and I don't expect that of any of my rp partners consistently! I would absolutely love if you were, but I am not picky whatsoever! Please just make sure the parts that truly count in our story are accurately detailed and written, so that I can give you a proper thought out reply that makes us both happy!

Dialogue Style:

I tend to write as much as I can! I'm flexible depending on my partner. I've been on a roleplay hiatus for quite some time, so I'm currently getting used to roleplaying with people again. I never stopped writing however, so my hopes is I'll get back to where I was! Typically I can give multi-paragraph responses, when I have the time and privacy I can push the Discord character limit- double it even! But if my partner needs less and less detail, we can arrange for it instantly! Just communicate:)

→ Roleplay Dynamics:

Preferred Roleplay Type:

I stick to 1x1 pairings, because of the tendency to crave that romantic energy in the plot, but that doesn't limit me to creating intense detail for our 1x1! I focus on one pairing, but I put more focus on detail and add many side characters that become canon to the character of choice.

Posting Frequency:

I'm a student in the Midwest, and I'm at school from 8am to 3pm CST! HOWEVER, I am nearly completed and I have 2 hours of break combined up there when I'm bored! Class can sometimes move slow, and I'll have time to communicate ooc with you of course! Once I'm home, I have a lack of schoolwork so I've very attentive to replies towards 3:30pm CST until around 11:30pm/12am!!

Communication Style OOC:

This is important! When we chat I'll be asking for the password to make sure you read this part ^^ Keep reading did it! Please note that I prefer to have rp partners that really get into the plot of our two characters! If we can't have some small talk here and there ooc, AT LEAST about our characters, I don't think we'll be a good match! I'm not forcing you to be my friend, but we have to have some platonic chemistry to write together and enjoy it! Bonus points the password is star if we have our own server (for channels to put ooc, headcanons, memes, future plot ideas, fcs, etc)

→ Content

Content Boundaries:

I will not play any minor with an adult vice versa! I also refuse to roleplay anything medieval, seeing as I have zero experience. I don't like playing fantasy creatures aside from the typical, I'm willing to hear you out but please don't be upset if I don't want to! I'm open to dead dove, just no minors PLEASE.

Trigger Warnings/Topics to Avoid:

I love angst and realness, I have no real triggers or topics to avoid! If you have any triggers or topics I should avoid please make sure you have them listed!!

Romance and Relationships:

I can play mxm pairings and mxf pairings! For men I have a hard time writing more shy/timid/'cute' characters and they're typically flawed (not overly), rougher, men. In mxf pairings I will only write the female character, and I can flesh out the character more compared to her male counterpart. Please do not ask me to play outside of these pairing preferences!

→ Collaboration Preferences:

Plot Development:

I welcome collaborative, pre-planned, and improvisational! We can create it together, one of us can provide one (we can always tweak it), or we can see where things go! I would very much prefer the first two though!!!

Character Development:

If you have an oc ready that is perfectly fine but please know that I am back after a hiatus and I only have a few that I'm currently working on!! I will ask if you have a preference for faceclaim type, but know I prefer realistic faceclaims! I welcome anime and drawn OCs but I don't like picrews. Like I enjoy them for funsies but please don't use soley a picrew.

World-Building:

Please try to be descriptive with how you envision the scene playing out!! I l-o-v-e taking time to build up the world our characters live in. Even if it's just "modern day [insert obtainable real place]", I want to know what the people in that place are like, the goers on the sidewalk, what the scene looks like in detail when it rains, the way the pavement is cracked or not, I DON'T CARE just be descriptive.

Preferred Level of Planning (e.g., detailed plotting, minimal planning):

Both make me equally as happy!!! I'm very fast to come up with plots off the top of my head if needed, I just need to know if you'd like to avoid "dead dove " content and your preference for cliches or not!!!!

→ Technical Preferences:

Platform for Roleplay:

I only use Discord for roleplay! Add me at cemeterydoggy <3 Cold adds and dms are welcomed here.

Language and Grammar Expectations:

Please use capitals and punctuation, correct any mistakes I genuinely cannot understand. I'm really not like anal about any of this, of course just... I don't know... don't do *this* I'm not character ai.

→ Additional Information:

Experience Level:

I'm 20 and I'm fairly confident I've been "roleplaying" since I was like 12 - I will not lie. In middle school I was a beginner, in the beginning of highschool I was plotting and writing ALL the time, and by the end of highschool I had no more time to... and a MASSIVE loss of motivation. I stopped writing OCs and plots, but I never stopped writing.

Interests Outside of Roleplay:

Rick and Morty, BBC Sherlock, Romance Books, Writing, Poetry, Video Essays, Icebergs, Deep Dives, Podcasts, Gardening, Cooking/Baking (from scratch), Bread Baking, Marine Biology, Paleontology, Zoology.

Any Special Requests/Requirements:

I'd like to say that I'm a little socially awkward because I'm neurodivergent, but my experience is still there. I can give you detail and a story I just need my partners to be a little patient and easy going (preferably not dry).

[fncreature]

One Hell of a Day - Benthan

In which Ethan and Benji don’t talk for ninety minutes, and then say too much in the few that follow

A/N: This took. So long to write. But it was fun! I love writing them :D Also this is the first fic I’ve posted in probably a year, so… we’ll see how this goes! Enjoy!

Warnings: Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning spoilers (Fic is set after the events of the movie), Ethan & Benji might be kinda ooc, the dumbest realization I’ve ever written, badly paced imo

The silence in the car is thick and hot and absolutely insufferable.

Ethan, although he detestes it, longs for it to last. He doesn’t want to say a word to anyone, not until he’s able to compose himself- really compose himself, not so he could convince everyone else that he was alright, but to convince himself. Ilsa was gone. Grace was in Kittridge’s hands, and he was barely trustworthy. It was him and Benji, and until they got Grace back, it would be for a while. He needs the quiet. He hadn’t had a minute to breathe- or to grieve.

Benji, however, would like nothing more than to start asking as many questions as he can think of, as quickly as possible. Ethan had pressed the key into his hands, put a hand on his shoulder for a moment, and headed into the car. He hadn’t said anything to him since he’d told Ethan to literally jump off a cliff, and hadn’t heard a word since. The look on Ethan’s face set the tone for anything he needed to know and the fact that he was alone was even worse. He’s never liked the quiet, his nervous habit was to break it. It’s almost unbearable, watching him stare into the distance with his head pressed against the window like he wasn’t right there, unsure of anything that’d happened in the last half hour.

But that was Ethan, or at least that was the way he showed himself to Benji.

That is what he tells himself.

He doesn’t even know where he’s going. He just drives, taking exits every once and a while until Ethan is ready to tell him anything, anything, especially where he wants to go.  After more than an hour of driving in circles, he can’t take it anymore. “Ethan, where the hell do you want me to be going?” 

“I don’t know” He whispers, not even taking a glance towards Benji. “I don’t know. Anywhere we can rest for a night.” 

(Ethan doesn’t know what he’s doing. He has no idea where the hell to start)

He almost sounds mad. Guilty, sure. Forlorn. It’s been a hell of a day for him, Benji would admit that. It’s been a hell of a day for them both, but Ethan had jumped off a cliff. That, unquestioningly, takes the cake for having “one hell of a day”. 

He has no idea where the hell anything nearby is. They’d never go to a chain hotel, too many cameras, too many people around. Benji can’t remember the last time he’s slept in a Marriott. A motel, maybe, but he hated motels. They were unsettling. Bad things happened in motels. He much preferred when Ethan had them staying in a B&B, usually small ones in the middle of nowhere.

(Ethan likes B&Bs. They’re homey. He hasn’t had a home in a while)

Today, to Benji’s dismay, today is a motel day. Motels are unsafe, but for the most part, they are anonymous. They don’t talk to the police. They don’t remember you. Benji hates motels, but today is a motel day. He knows it.

“Could you pass me my phone?” He asks quietly. Ethan passes it over, still barely looking at him. 

He feels bad, truly. Ilsa was gone. Grace, he had no idea. Nothing good. Luther had left. He can’t imagine how hurt he feels- how hurt he is. They hadn’t had a moment to breathe in days, and if Ethan isn’t banged up at all, then he’s invincible. 

(Ethan always wishes he wasn’t)

He does a messy search for motels in the maps app and hands the phone to Ethan once a list of some nearby pops up. Part of him wonders what Ethan would even be looking for. Bad reviews? How far were they from everything? Security, or lack thereof? 

Ethan puts the phone on the dashboard. The motel is another twenty minutes away. Twenty minutes of silent hell for Benji.

(Twenty minutes of self-consolation for Ethan)

Benji wants to shatter the silence like glass. He hates it, and Ethan isn’t helping. If he’d just- if he would say anything, anything, or if he’d just… He doesn’t know what he wants from Ethan. He knows he shouldn’t expect this much from him- he’s been through so much in the past week, why can’t he let the man rest? It’s not like he wants to stop him. But he craves Ethan’s voice, Ethan’s reassurances that whatever would happen, he would handle it. He needs it. 

Today, he’d gotten nothing. He’d gotten the key to the end of the world, a hand on his shoulder, and silence. There’s nothing that’s more reassuring to him than Ethan’s comfort, even if he knows that he’s lying. He always pulls through, and he always makes sure Benji’s with him. 

He always did. He always had. He always would. He always would. Right?

It’s not over yet. They had the key, and he hoped Ethan knew what it unlocked. And he made it out visibly unscathed, which surely counted for something. But he wasn’t talking. And that… Grace wasn’t dead. She wasn’t. He knew Ethan, and he knew it messed him up when he lost someone, and he knew that he cared, maybe even too much, but…

He’d known Grace for a few days. He’d lost Ilsa and he would still speak to them, although it took him a bit. He just-

He doesn’t know. A part of him can just tell. He just knows how Ethan is, and this isn’t him grieving. Not… not newly grieving. 

He doesn’t know.

He wants to break the silence.

He doesn’t want to hurt Ethan by doing so.

Benji swallows hard, trying to swallow down his thoughts, eyes glancing up to the rear-view mirror. He tells himself to watch the road, but… He’s watching Ethan. 

(Ethan stares out the window. He can see Benji in the reflection)

His sharp eyes are slightly unfocused, staring at the scenery passing by in a blur of green and gray. His dark hair is tousled and messy, strands falling down in his face. He looks… younger, almost, head resting on the window, turtleneck up just slightly too high.  

Benji pulls into the motel lot.

He’s about to ask if Ethan wants to go in, or if he should, but he’s already getting out of the car. Benji swallows, blinking a few times, mouth open to say something but says nothing. 

His hands rest on the wheel, and when he looks down, he realizes that he’s trembling. He shouldn’t be trembling, why is he shaking? He’s not scared. He’s not scared. Why would he be scared? 

He has the key to the world as he knows it in his pocket. Why would he be scared?

(Ethan is scared)

Benji watches Ethan emerge from the office, a pair of keys in his hand. 

Its’s ironic, isn’t it? Benji has the key that is keeping them from safety. Ethan has the one that will give it to them for a moment.

Ethan steps back into the car, nodding to the left side of the parking lot, the keys jingling in his hands. He pulls the car into the farthest spot to the left, allowing Ethan to get out first and lead him to the room. Benji locks the car. Ethan leads him up the weathered and, in Benji’s opinion, flimsy stairs to the room. 

He’ll pretend that he’s fine with their room not being on the ground level. Ground level rooms were easier to escape from. He didn’t want to need to jump from a balcony, even if it was one floor up. He tells himself he’s being paranoid, but he can’t tell himself that he’s not overreacting. 

He’s with Ethan- Nothing’s safe for long. 

He unlocks the door to the room, and Benji shuts the door behind them.  Two twin beds mark either wall, a desk opposite the further bed and a small bathroom in the back on the room. The dresser’s in between the bed, and a small chair is in the corner beside the door, along with a lamp.

“Pretty shitty layout for a motel room” Benji remarks, without thinking.

To his surprise, Ethan nods. 

His heart is racing. He didn’t- and Ethan had just nodded. They stand there for a moment too long, Benji a step in front of the door, Ethan two paces in front of him, Benji staring at Ethan, Ethan staring at the wall.

Benji can’t take it.

“I- I’m going to get my laptop from the car.” He says, drawing Ethan’s eyes as he speaks, pointing back to the door before quickly rushing out of the room and down the stairs. He can’t breathe. Why can’t he breathe? His heart is going a million miles a minute. 

He’s not scared. He’s not scared. He’s not scared. He’s-

He walks to the car, still breathing hard, still shaking. Why is he scared? Why now? They’ve always been doing things like this-  He’s been in the field with Ethan since the Kremlin. They’d been working together for even longer. Whether it’d been with Brandt and Jane, or Luther, or Ilsa, he’d-

Oh.

Oh.

They were alone. With each other. This hadn’t happened before. And he was panicking out because he was alone. With Ethan. 

Oh no.

He was alone with Ethan and he was panicking because of Ethan. Because of Ethan. He was shaking and his heart was racing because of Ethan. Ethan. Ethan, who would die for his friends and had always looked out for Benji and was making his heart race for some-

Oh.

Oh.

It made sense. The unquestioning trust and unwavering loyalty- of course. He liked Ethan. The nervous blabbering, the way he found his eyes drawn to him… God. It was so damn obvious. Hindsight, as it always is, is 20/20. He liked Ethan. 

He- He didn’t- Ethan- No. He couldn’t feel that way about Ethan. He couldn’t. He was Ethan’s friend. They were friends. That was all they were and all they are and all they would be. Benji opens the backseat of the car, grabbing his laptop from where he’d set it, swallowing hard and trying to stop thinking. About everything.

He clutches the laptop to his chest and slams the car door. 

“Benji”

Ethan’s voice is hoarse and soft behind him, and almost jarring. He hadn’t heard Ethan speak for a while, and the area was nearly silent, beside the sound of cars going by.

“I- You were out here for a while. I was getting worried.” He says.

Benji blinks.

He inhales. “I’m fine, I just-” Ethan steps towards him. 

“Benji, I-” Ethan inhales, pausing for a moment, “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier, and I’m sorry for not telling you anything and making you want to leave, but…” He holds the laptop against his chest, anxious, now somehow unable to talk to him. He just- Why was it awkward now? Why was it nerve-wracking to breathe when Ethan was looking at him. It was Ethan. His Ethan, who he’d known for years. He’d never felt like this around him. Why did it need to be like this now?

“It’s fine.” Benji says. He stares down at the asphalt. “Really, I’m- I’m sure you’ve- A lot happened today. It’s fine.” 

Ethan looks away, and he knows that Ethan doesn’t believe him.

He wonders, again, how battered Ethan must be. He hadn’t thought about it since he’d landed, but- He’d told the man to drive off a cliff and parachute onto a train. He wasn’t unscathed. Ethan, although he appears as such, isn’t invincible. 

He walks a bit closer, their feet barely a foot or two away from each other. “I’m sorry. Really. And I should’ve told you about what happened earlier, so we can figure out what to do next.” What comes next? He has no idea, and if Ethan has somewhere to start, then something big happened on that train. 

(Ethan has somewhere to start. And blood stained on his hands)

“It’s- It’s okay, Ethan. I could tell the second you looked at me that something had happened. I  never expected you to be forward with me, and I’m used to it. It’s fine.” He says, trying to be honest without being too honest. Being fully honest meant telling Ethan why it wasn’t fine. 

So he isn’t. He will lie to Ethan and will continue to do so until… when? He wants to? He feels like it? One of them fucks up and he doesn’t have any other choice?

It’ll probably be the latter.

“Benji. Benji. Just be honest with me, yeah? If you’re- If you don’t want to do this, if you can’t handle this, it’s okay. I’m- This is the weight of the world on our shoulders, and if you don’t want that, it’s okay.” Ethan says earnestly, in a way that makes Benji’s heart jump in a way that should be dangerous. 

What if he said no to Ethan? If he told him it was too much for him? He wouldn’t, of course- he couldn’t. Leaving Ethan, grieving, with the weight of the world on his shoulders and being hunted by most governments, by himself would be like shoving him off a cliff. 

But knowing Ethan, he’d manage to catch himself and climb back up.

He shouldn’t feel like this. He shouldn’t want to leave, and he shouldn’t want to kiss Ethan in the middle of an empty parking lot with the weight of the world on their shoulders. He shouldn’t be imagining what Ethan’s lips taste like. Ethan’s his colleague and his friend and nothing more than that.

“Of course not. I can handle myself.” He knows the words are coming out of his mouth already, but he doesn’t know if he’s lying or not. 

“You’re shaking.” Ethan notes with the slightest tilt of his head. 

He’s got to laugh this off. He’s got to laugh this off. “I’ve got the most dangerous object in the world in my back pocket, Ethan, I don’t know what you’d expect.”

Perfect. Perfect. That sounded like him, it was logical, it was perfect. He was not going to accidentally confess that he liked Ethan. He could not, would not, and should not. 

He raises an eyebrow. “You were sitting on that thing while you were driving?” Benji stifles a laugh. He shrugs, trying to keep himself from smiling. It’s… It’s funny. The thing itself wasn’t even dangerous, but it’s power was immense, and he was sitting on it for ninety minutes in a rental car. 

Ethan glances to the ground, a smile hinting at the edges of his lips, brow raised. “Do you want me to take it?” 

“Oh, absolutely.” He slips the golden key out of his pocket, the white and red gems on each half glinting in the gently fading light. Benji outstretches his hand to him, turning slightly to set his laptop on the roof of the car.

Benji would like nothing to do with the key. The smartest thing to do would be throwing the thing to the bottom of the ocean, but… Well, it almost already had been. He holds out the key to Ethan, who, after a moment of staring, gently takes the key from Benji’s hand, fingers lingering in his hand for a second too long. He closes his hand around the key and tucks it in his back pocket.

Benji raises an eyebrow, and Ethan shoots him a warm smile. He’s not thinking about Ethan’s smile anymore, though. He’s thinking about his hands, the soft touch of his fingers as he’d taken the key. He’d always made a habit of glancing at Ethan’s hands after a fight- he’d never admit it, but it was his way of telling how bad things had gone without him seeing or needing to ask. Bruised knuckles were essentially nothing. But there were times when he’d see Ethan’s hands littered with cuts and scrapes from falling, bruises all along his hands, and he wouldn’t say anything, but put bandages and something for his inevitable pain where Ethan would find it. 

Today, Ethan’s hands were littered with tiny cuts absolutely everywhere, his knuckles bruised. He assumes broken glass. But he won’t push. 

For the second time in this conversation, he has no idea what to say. It’s unlike him, it always has been, and he knows Ethan knows that, too. He doesn’t even think before the words spill out of his mouth, “You should get some rest.” He looks up from the pavement. “You should, too. We’ve gotta be ready for what comes next.”

Again, Ethan brings up the future. Benji wishes he wouldn’t. It would be so much easier not to think about Gabriel or Grace or Ilsa, or the key he’d handed to Ethan moments ago, or how the world's governments would kill them to get it. It would be so much easier to tell Ethan a simple I love you and kiss him against the car until they weren’t thinking about anything but each other. 

God, it would be easier.

And god, would it be cowardly. And Benji Dunn is not a coward. He’s not. He is so many things, but a coward is not one of them.

No matter what he tells himself.

He’s not a coward, but he is scared. He is absolutely scared. He sighs, opening his mouth to say one thing before deciding on another:

“What does come next, Ethan?” 

 He looks so unsure, a crease forming in his brow that Benji has known to recognize when Ethan was left speechless. He’d never done it. Honestly, it was cute.

So he continues, not thinking of where his words are going before he says them. “I don’t know what happened back there, and frankly, if it doesn’t provide some new, life-altering information, I don’t think I want to know. So tell me, Ethan, what the plan is. I will blindly follow you to the ends of the earth if you need me to, and I won’t even be surprised anymore. But I trust you, and I hope you know that you can trust me, so just tell me what you want to do. I’ll do it. I’ll do it.” 

He’s never seen a look like this on Ethan- It’s a mix of confusion and disappointment, sadness and some form of grief. He’s completely speechless, just looking to the ground near Benji’s feet.

God, he wants to kiss him.

Ethan swallows, letting out a breath, speaking hoarsely. “You shouldn’t.” (Grace did. Ilsa did. Julia did. He didn’t want Benji to.)

He doesn’t know what else to say, other than, “Why?” 

“It just gets people hurt, Benji. Or killed. I- I won’t let that happen to you.” He spits bitterly, still unable to meet Benji’s eyes. 

His heart races. “I will follow you to the ends of the earth, Ethan, if you want me to or not. If you need me, I will be there, whether you want me to be or not. I trust you, and there is very little you can to to sever that, Ethan, because-” He stops himself just in time. Because I love you. Because he loves him. There is no other word to describe the way he feels about Ethan Hunt. And he was about to fuck it all up, by telling him this. 

“Because?” Ethan asks, finally looking up, but still not at him. 

Benji swallows. Because he’s Ethan’s friend? Because he trusts him more than anyone? Because the bond they have is built on years of trust and trauma and everything that can’t be put in words? “Because I love you,” Is still the thing that slips out of Benji’s mouth, no matter how much he doesn’t want to say as such. 

Ethan doesn’t say a word, locking eyes with Benji as he takes another step forward, hand moving to rest on Benji’s shoulder.

And then he’s being kissed, hard, one of Ethan’s hands making its way to his back as the other remains on his shoulder. And then he’s kissing back, feeling Ethan’s chapped lips on his own as he leans forward into the agent. Benji’s hands move onto Ethan’s chest and around his waist, his warm cheeks crashing into Ethan’s as his breathing goes a million miles a minute. 

He’s been kissed before, but never like this. This was what it was supposed to be like, when people described it in stories and movies. His previous kisses had been quick and messy and nothing like this. This was warm and perfect and something that meant so much more, and as they separate for breath, all Benji can do is stare into his green-blue eyes. 

“We- I-” He tries to say something but it doesn’t come out right. “We should go inside. Safer. More private.” 

He just wants to kiss Ethan again, but doesn’t protest. He’s right, of course, but they stand there frozen for another moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, until Ethan moves his hand back up to Benji’s shoulder and lets out a light breath, accompanied by a smile. 

Benji presses another peck to his lips. 

“Inside” Ethan presses, grabbing the laptop from the top of the car behind them, and Benji grabs it from his hands and pulls him up the stairs, watching him pull the key to their room and open the door. The brunette pulls him through the doorway and kisses him against the door, pushing his head back and forcing the laptop against his chest for a moment until Ethan stops suddenly.

“Did you lock the car?” 

“No,” Benji laughs, but he just wishes that Ethan would shut up and kiss him again. He fishes through his front pockets and produces the key, and Ethan takes it from his hands and lets Benji move from the door before stepping out to the front overhang to lock the car. Meanwhile, Benji grabs a cup of water and fills it up, sipping it carefully, trying to slow his racing heart.

Ethan looks at him from the doorway, sunset fading beautifully behind him, smiling. “Geez, we’ve had one hell of a day, haven’t we?”

Benji smiles, setting the glass down and pushing the door shut, kissing Ethan again.

[findroleplay]

Hey folks! I'm once again on the hunt for some fandomless ocxoc rps to satiate my feral apetite for wacky worldbuilding 🙏 my primary preference is for fantasy based settings (and characters) but I'd be thrilled to blend it with any other genre! Modern or medieval, domestic meet-cutes or world ending horror, I want to hear whatever you have the itch for and hopefully we can come up with something together <3

Please please be willing to talk ooc and yell about our characters, help with plotting, make moodboards/playlists/art/and all that jazz with me! mutual obsession over our respective blorbos is what really keeps the inspiration alive and flowing !!

I'm hoping to use some of my many ocs I've yet to really flesh out but I'm not entirely opposed to making a new character from scratch. That being said, I use drawn references of my ocs and prefer you do the same! Picrews and written descriptions are fine but no irl fcs

also! I'm only interested in writing lgbt pairings (mxm primarily) and often as trans/nb characters

Nsfw is all fine and good but not as the central focus and definitely not with bottom-only ocs, sorry!

I'm 28 and prefer writing with others 21+, literate and up (so like at least 3ish paras) and a few replies a week is all I ask but! if we get a frequent back and forth you'll have my undying love and adoration <3 interact and I'll reach out!

-

[sunshinebbokari]

seeking oc discord 1x1 krp

getting uncomfortably close to four years since my last 1x1, so hoping to make some new friends. i'm also helping run a group server that will be advertised in the near future, so expect me to try to drag you into that too. /lh

here's my general 1x1 preferences. please send me a message if you think we’d be a good match! tumblr keeps glitching when i receive likes, so this is the easiest way to check in.

i am 25+ so please keep your personal comfort level in mind. i prefer 25+ partners but am open to 21+.

please be comfortable with (preferably daily) ooc talks, including regularly initiating conversations. i am a very unsuitable match for anxious / avoidant personality types. i am also highly neurodivergent, as well as chronically ill, so i appreciate patience / understanding and will give you the same.

i'm only comfortable playing m/m pairings. i would also prefer a partner who defaults more to top/dom/switch/vers types because i am primarily a dom/switch/verse player. i dislike passive ship dynamics. if you're familiar with proper D/s dynamics, please come be my friend.

i write third person past tense with around 300 - 800 words per post, occasionally more or slightly less, but usually at least 2-3 paragraphs. i love introspection / detail (please give) but not overly so.

i haven't written smut in many years, but i'm open to it. i prefer slow burn ships with chemistry rather than pre-pairing characters together. this is why i would also prefer that we both play multiple characters in whatever roleplay we do.

i love intense plotting and worldbuilding, constantly throwing ideas around and coming up with new things to add. i also prefer running multiple plotlines at once in the same setting. i love gushing about our characters and everything we're doing. please bring lots of enthusiasm!

i exclusively write ocs with a variety of faceclaims. i have a backlog of 80-100 or so and will try to pick and choose from the backlog as we plot, though i may also make a new character. i have a couple fc pairs i like, but we can mutually discuss our favorites. my main groups are skz + ateez.

my ideal posting speed is multiple replies per day, but my health issues / mental state can sometimes make maintaining that a challenge esp because i'm out of practice. i like to aim for multiple times a week and i love staying involved/hyped ooc in the meantime.

i do have some triggers, but i am willing to thoroughly discuss them before roleplaying and i do still enjoy writing angsty/dark content.

if the way you roleplay is by talking to your characters in your head as if they're real people, i am your guy.

concepts i enjoy: modern supernatural, idolverse (with all the drama), scifi futuristic with political junk (eg: the expanse, liu cixin works), mafia/gangs, street racing. throwing proper D/s dynamics into the mix. open to considering others.

concepts i dislike: smut-focused, historical settings, fantasy-geared, school settings.

tl;dr: i'm way more chill than i look, please be friends with me.

[ak4rin]

SHIPPING INFO | answer the following for your muses so people know how shipping works on your blog

WHAT IS YOUR OTP FOR YOUR CHARACTER(S)?

i don't have one per se but i always lead this type of conversation mentioning that akari is an eldest daughter, so her type of person that would make for a great otp is someone who ... she doesn't have to manage, essentially. who is equally responsible as she is and will understand that her job is demanding hence why she's mentally exhausted 24/7. someone she can turn her brain off around because she knows nothing bad will happen if they take the wheel for a while. someone who still loves her after a day spent in her childhood home, too

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?

current timeline wise i've placed akari to have turned 27 a few months after shibuya. i do think she would date older people but wouldn't go past laste 30s / early 40s. she wouldn't date any younger than early 20s though, but that's just common sense

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY ARE CONSIDERED NSFT?

i guess that goes along with the bases system? anything past kissing perhaps

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?

yeah, i'd rather ship with chemistry though i'm always willing to give ships a try even through plotting. i prefer shipping with people who i have written at least once either ic or ooc

WHO ARE OTHER CHARACTERS YOU SHIP YOUR CHARACTER WITH?

at the moment all the ships i have are pretty recent, i don't think i have a favourite though and i know it sounds cliché but they're all so different that equally give me something interesting and precious to work with !!

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?

i think it depends. sending shippy asks is okay but acting like we're already shipping beforehand without even talking about it once ... i will feel weird about it, ngl

ARE YOU SHIP-OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?

wouldn't say i'm ship obsessed but i won't lie i do love writing romance 😂 slow burns are my jam, anything yearning i will love it

what is your favourite ship in your current fandom?

i don't have any particular preference, though the more i lurk around fandom spaces the more i've noticed that people tend to pair her either with ijichi ( the managers solidarity lol ), ino ( because they both seem huge yappers which i agree on 😂 ) and in some rarer instances nanami ( though i see a lot of people counter that she's his daughter figure, for whatever reason lmao ). i know some people ship her with nobara, but honestly i find it kinda weird since akari's a whole adult

not akari related ships though, i would say satoru x suguru, shoko x utahime, higuruma x kusakabe, toji x mama fushiguro, yuki x choso ... i don't really go there but i think some of the ships between kids are cute too, ngl

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?

hmu in ims! chances are i will be on board with it and also make us a pinterest board lol ( there's proof, look at my pinned 😂 )

tagged by: @chikoyama thank you!

tagging: YOU! ( and make sure to tag me so i can read )

[elisethetraveller]

Stuff under a read more because slight negativity

So just prefacing with this is not minded at anyone or any one occurrence but rather a recurring theme of rp’ing this character for +5 years and needing to vent so with that in mind…

I get so tired of the weird dance that is having to make the first move versus not being too much.

I think it’s a more-or-less well acknowledged fact that writers of female OC’s (and OC’s at large) on Tumblr occasionally have a hard time finding rp partners. Much cleverer people than me have written about this in much greater detail than I can manage.

What I particularly have noticed in my years of rp with Elise, and which frustrates me endlessly now that I have spotted the pattern, is this dance or “loop” that happens, at least to me. Let me lay it out.

Step 1. Roleplaying begins and you (mun) reaches out to people who you might be interested in writing with while also chatting with the (often few) people who want to write with your muse

Step 2. Mun realizes that a lot of effort has to be put in to finding people who want to rp with you (customary preface of no one owes anyone interactions here but I feel like frustration can still co-exist with this sentiment)

Step 3. Muse begins to be ingrained in a few rps but a lot of work has to be done to keep muse relevant, often (not always) disproportionately to how much interest rp partners put into connecting with your muse

Step 4. Things run smoothly!

Step 5. Things run “too smoothly” and one part ends up burning out or the other ends up feeling pressured/stressed by the level of engagement (which, again, both are fair and people should take any necessary steps to ensure they are comfortable)

Step 6. Lot of self-doubt as a new balancing act has to be made between keeping muse relevant through engagement but also ensuring no one burns out or feels pressured

Step 7. General blog activity falls, sometimes drastically.

Like I have been through this cycle upwards of 3 or 4 times now. And again, I want to reiterate that it is no one person’s doing or fault or anything of the sort. However, it is frustrating and as I once again feel like I am picking up the pieces in step 6 and 7 I genuinely wonder if there is something deeply wrong with how I do things.

I have tried not being active in reaching out to people, but in my experience as an oc writer you have to reach out if you want people to write with you. (And I might be wrong in that assessment but 99% of long term rp relations I have and have had started with me reaching out).

I have tried writing with people with minor ooc talk which honestly led to a lot of miscommunication and confusion on both sides.

I have tried self-moderation (which I admit I can be bad at, something to do with step 2-3 but also just general excitement levels).

So now I want to try asking for advice.

I know I have mutuals with more rp experience than me. Mutuals with more social graces.

What should I do? Or not do, for that matter?

How do I stop this from happening again and again?

Do I need to change the way I approach rp? If so, how?

Is something wrong with the way or what I write? How can it be fixed? Should it be fixed or should I just drop it all?

I will be forever thankful for any advice, long or short.

Anon is on for those who would prefer for any advice to be given anonymously.

[knghtlock]

MAINS CALL!

[ informercial vc ] do you like the goofy tazer warlock? then have i got the deal for you! like this post and become a main on knghtlock dot tumblr dot com TODAY!!! i'd prefer if we at least talk ooc and have written together once or twice before you hit the heart, because, yknow, i like being friends with my mains. what do you get out of being a main? I'M GLAD YOU ASKED!

me, randomly chucking starters and asks at you

my discord , unless we're already being silly on there

if i see something that reminds me of your muse? you Will be tagged!

you get a fancy dynamic tag ON MY BLOG!!! JUST FOR YOU AND YOUR CHARACTER!!!! waow!

occasional doodles of your blorbo, edits of our muses being goofy, and other shenanigans

references of your blorbo in other threads

my undying love and hyping you up

please note that i only really take about 2-3 mains of each character, depending on the character. if we've plotted extensively & our muses mesh really well, we can discuss being affiliates! affiliates are people that i'm really close to and are kinda like a box set with this blog because of how interconnected our muses are. i do not practice exclusives , however! sorry!

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

Caretaking

Decided to write my first Birdrick fic. It’s light enough that you can read it as platonic if you prefer, but I’ve written it with shippy intentions in mind. I’m really obsessed with their early relationship when they and Squanchy were living in their shithole apartment from the comics - I love the option for domesticity. Also fair warning because I know some people might want to avoid content like this, especially since covid, but this does feature Rick being ill (flu-like symptoms, nothing gastrointestinal - emetophobes don’t worry!) and there are suggestions of the illness being contagious. It’s nothing life-threatening, but I know that any sort of illness can be a trigger for some people, especially given the past couple of years.

I hope that nothing is too OOC - with Rick I’m justifying it since he’s too ill to fully have his guard up like normal, but with Birdperson I’m honestly just not sure how to write him 😅

Summary: Birdperson is worried about Rick overworking himself while ill and takes care of him. Can be read as romantic or platonic. ~1.3k words.

Birdperson startles awake to the sound of a hacking cough from another room, loud enough to disturb his sleep. The walls of their apartment are thin enough that being unexpectedly awoken in the middle of the night is a frustratingly common occurrence. However, unlike the annoyance he normally feels when being woken up by loud inebriated people in the hallway or on the streets outside, this sound sparks concern in his chest. Rick’s voice is something that Birdperson thinks would be incredibly distinctive even if he didn’t share living space with the man, and he can easily identify it in the pained sounds coming from the next room.

Worried, Birdperson gets out of bed and goes to check on his friend. Rick’s door is ajar, and through the crack Birdperson can see Rick tinkering with some sort of gadget whose purpose would be a complete mystery had he not spent much of the previous two days listening to Rick talk excitedly about it. A few hours ago, however, the parts Rick needed had finally arrived, and Birdperson has not seen him since. 

In that time, Rick has apparently taken a considerable turn for the worse, his eyes bloodshot against his pale and clammy skin, and his body trembling with what Birdperson guesses is fever. Despite this, Rick never diverts his attention from his project, except for the moments when his coughing overtakes him so violently that he has to place a hand on the desk to support himself.

Birdperson slowly opens the door. Rick doesn’t appear to notice him, absorbed in his work.

“Rick?” Birdperson tries to speak gently, so as not to frighten his friend. His efforts are in vain, as Rick jumps so hard he nearly falls out of his chair.

“Geez, Pers, don’t scare me like that!” Rick wheezes, his voice so rough and strained that Birdperson internally winces at the sound of it. After a moment to recover from the shock, Rick breaks into a shaky grin. 

“Hey, check it out! I’ve almost finished the wiring on this circuit board, and once that’s done I can connect in the-” Rick is cut off by another bout of coughing, his body almost bent double. Birdperson steps forward, troubled, placing a supporting hand on Rick’s shoulder. As Rick’s paroxysm eases, Birdperson presses the back of his other hand to Rick’s forehead.

“You are hot.” he states, frowning in concern. Rick’s face melts into a delirious smirk.

“Heh, thanks, baby.” he mumbles. Part of Birdperson thinks that maybe Rick isn’t so ill if he’s still able to joke, but he has known the man long enough to know that this is unlikely to be the case. Besides, Rick almost certainly hasn’t eaten or slept in hours if he’s been this fixated on his project.

“Rick, you are unwell. Allow me to help you to bed.”

Rick pouts in a way that Birdperson would find adorable were he not so anxious about his friend’s wellbeing. 

“Aw, Pers, c’mon. I’m nearly done. At least lemme finish this circuit board!” he whines like a nestling. Well, if Rick is going to behave like a nestling, then Birdperson will have to treat him like one.

Catching Rick off guard, he grabs the skinny man in his arms, restraining him. Rick tries to struggle and protest, but he’s much weaker than Birdperson at the best of times, let alone in his current fever-stricken state. Birdperson carries Rick the short distance from his desk to his bed in two brisk steps and deposits him gently atop the mattress. As soon as Rick’s body touches the bed, he completely stops resisting and the weight of his illness seems to strike him all at once. He pulls the blankets up to his chin, shivering.

“BP, I-I don’t feel well.” he stammers through chattering teeth, his fever making him more vulnerable than Birdperson has ever seen him allow himself to be.

“What assistance do you require?”

“I-I’m cold. And thirsty. And my throat hurts.”

Birdperson makes a mental note. 

“I will return shortly with blankets and tea.” he informs Rick, then begins to leave.

“Wait!” Rick’s voice sounds small and scared, like a child after a nightmare. Birdperson turns back. “D-don’t leave me.” 

“Rick, if I am to help you, I must leave to acquire the things you need.”

Rick looks almost as if he might cry, and Birdperson is struck with an uncomfortable mix of emotions: concern, for his friend’s health; guilt, that he has upset Rick; and a strange feeling he can’t name, as if he is invading Rick’s privacy by seeing him in a compromised state. He tries to push these aside to deal with the matter at hand. He leans in and gently rests a hand on top of Rick’s. Rick clutches at it with his other hand.

“I will only be gone for a minute. I will come straight back.” 

Rick still looks hesitant. “You promise?”

Birdperson nods solemnly. “I promise.”

Rick nods and releases Birdperson’s hand. As Birdperson turns to leave, he hears Rick sniffle, and he’s not sure if it’s from the illness or the emotion or a mixture of both.

True to his word, he hurries as much as he can, gathering blankets, a glass of water, tea with one spoonful of space honey. When he re-enters Rick’s bedroom, he’s struck by how small and frail the other man looks. Rick looks relieved to see him, as if he truly believed that Birdperson would abandon him. 

Birdperson gets to work tucking Rick in with extra blankets and tries to encourage him to drink. As he sits next to Rick, the other man leans in close to him, resting his head on Birdperson’s shoulder and clinging onto his arm. He looks so pathetic that Birdperson tries his best to comfort him, awkwardly brushing Rick’s hair from where it is stuck to his sweaty forehead. Although Birdperson knows he looks fairly humanoid, hair is not a feature his species possesses, and even at a moment like this, a small part of him marvels at its soft texture, how it is so similar to, yet entirely different from, feathers.

“Don’t go.” Rick mumbles, his voice hushed, as if his shame at the idea of showing vulnerability is so deeply ingrained that it manages to persist even through the fog of fever.

“You wish for me to stay here with you?”

Rick nods, and Birdperson knows there’s no way he can leave.

“I will have to sleep here, then?” he half asks, half states.

Again, Rick simply nods in response. Birdperson wriggles his body down under the covers next to Rick, who remains clutching onto him. Birdperson can feel him trembling, and he wraps an arm and a wing around Rick. Rick’s skin burns with fever, and Birdperson hopes that their species are different enough that Rick’s illness will not be transmissible to him. Although Rick is a remarkably clever man, biology is not typically one of his areas of passion, and humans are rare enough as to be almost non-existent in the universe, meaning that Birdperson has no way of knowing if this is the case. His eyes flicker to the man next to him, finally asleep, his face relaxed and innocent in a way Birdperson has never seen it before.

It’s worth the risk, he thinks, before finally returning to sleep himself.  

Bonus:

“Hey Rick,” cries Squanchy in a voice far too loud for the current hour of the morning. “Have you squanched my - ” he abruptly cuts himself off as he takes in the sight of his two bandmates curled up asleep together in Rick’s bed. 

“Thank the stars those two idiots finally just squanched and got it over with.” he mutters to himself as he makes a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

[findyourrp]

Hey folks! 🦊 I'm once again on the hunt for some fandomless ocxoc rps to satiate my feral apetite for wacky worldbuilding 🙏 my primary preference is for fantasy based settings (and characters) but I'd be thrilled to blend it with any other genre! Modern or medieval, domestic meet-cutes or world ending horror, I want to hear whatever you have the itch for and hopefully we can come up with something together <3

Please please be willing to talk ooc and yell about our characters, help with plotting, make moodboards/playlists/art/and all that jazz with me! mutual obsession over our respective blorbos is what really keeps the inspiration alive and flowing !!

I'm hoping to use some of my many ocs I've yet to really flesh out but I'm not entirely opposed to making a new character from scratch. That being said, I use drawn references of my ocs and prefer you do the same! Picrews and written descriptions are fine but no irl fcs

also! I'm only interested in writing lgbt pairings (mxm primarily) and often as trans/nb characters

Nsfw is all fine and good but not as the central focus and definitely not with bottom-only ocs, sorry!

I'm 28 and prefer writing with others 21+, literate and up (so like at least 3ish paras) and a few replies a week is all I ask but! if we get a frequent back and forth you'll have my undying love and adoration <3 interact and I'll reach out!

.

[sunlitlemonade]

one line, any fic!

tagged by the absolutely lovely @shhhenanigans

pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the mid point, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 10 people.

between silence and memories [Dick & Jason oneshot]

So he yearns and tells himself he is just fine being alone. And maybe he is. 

But he belongs with the people who love him and the people he loves back. 

—

Here’s something even I don’t know - I don't know if he will let himself belong. 

(okay sorry but I had to share more than one line from this one because fuck I'm so proud this fic. It was my first time experimenting in a writing style like this and I hold it very near to heart.)

while you wandered between worlds [Batfam Oneshot with the focus around Dick & Jason]

Even his father didn’t brood as much as Richard did these days. It was starting to worry Damian. 

He has to know what this is about. 

like dewdrops on a windowpane [Dick & Jason oneshot]

Jason loves to be a contrary little shit so he says, “No but the tightness is gonna cut my damn circulation off.” If he is saying this to keep the warmth close then it’s no one’s business. 

Dick huffs but lets his hands rest around him, settling like a comfortable weight rather than a vice trying to keep him from running. 

running to you (feels right) [Dick & Jason oneshot]

There are too many faces, too many voices, too much warmth and yet none of them are the face he wants to see, the voice he wants to hear, the warmth he wants to feel. 

please just kiss already (preferably somewhere where i can't see) [JayRoy onsehot]

Dick wanted to scream and say, “There is a time and place, Roy, and this is neither,” and no he wasn’t talking about the mission. The time wasn’t right because it was physically distressing for Dick to listen to them flirt so relentlessly (cluelessly, might he add) and not have a break from it. The place was wrong because they weren’t doing this at least fifty miles away from him. 

revivescere solis [I'm predictable, my loves. yes, this is a Dick & Jason oneshot]

Years of thinking he would never see his little wing grow and he came back taller than Dick.

(I wrote this while I was grieving. So it might not be the best fic I have written but man, it's important to me.)

what can i do to miss you a little less? [Dick & Jason oneshot lol. I made them so soft in this one, probably to the point of oocness but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I can be shamelessly self indulgent. As a treat.]

Eventually, Dick took a few shuddering breaths and straightened to look at Jason, “I’m sorry, you probably want an explanation-”

“First, you do not need to fucking apologize. Second, you don’t owe me any explanations."

tires and soulmarks [Dick & Jason platonic soulmate AU, the first chapter is out and the second (final!) chapter will be out once it's beta'd :)]

The kid's whole body locks up at that, and before Dick knows it, he's getting a tire iron straight to his stomach. Doubling over, winded and betrayed, he looks up and sees short legs trying to run as fast as possible. But, it only takes a couple of long strides, and Dick catches the boy's collar.

getting to know each other is a start [Jason & Duke oneshot, the first part of an ongoing series]

“I… It’s not a list of questions that I have. It’s like - we are supposed to be brothers, right? And yet, we barely ever meet or talk to each other. And I get it! You are busy and I don’t want you thinking I’m not happy with the occasional chat we have over the comms but you are my older brother and it would be really really cool to get to know you. Dick and Dami talk about you all the freaking time but it’s not the same as talking to you, you know? And-” 

Jason kept a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Buddy, breath. You are rambling.”

getting waffles is the next step [Jason & Duke oneshot, sequel to 'getting to know each other is a start']

Because this seemed like the place that would disappear by daylight. Everything seemed distant. Faraway glow of lambent signs, half-constructed buildings, murmurs that faded with each step and picked up as soon as they went near a shop. Everything felt hushed. 

thanks for the tag, dude!!! this was fun :D

and uhhhh I am bad with tagging but no pressure tags for @ace-kdj @jasontoddisrightfuckyou @greeneyesandfingerstripes and literally anyone and everyone who would like to play!!! tag me, I wanna see :]

[takeabiteoutofmyheart]

Once again, making a side blog, looking for people to roleplay with on discord.

First off, important shit. I am 23, won't roleplay with anyone not 18+ Mostly because that's uncomfortable for me and the themes I like/enjoy writing.

I like darker intense themes, romance that could very much be considered toxic, unhealthy etc. Obsessive? Possessive? That only makes it all more fun.

I want to have fun with chaotic, messy drama and potentially unhinged characters. I love fantasy, supernatural themes as well as criminal / crimes themes.

I love writing twisted, disturbed themes. In regards with nsfw/smut — I like writing it but I don't mind leaving it as Implied or fading to black if my partner prefers that.

I've been roleplaying off and on for years, ten plus years at least. I only write original characters. M x F / F x F / M x M / Nb characters are welcome as well.

Novella/semi-para — third person only is my writing style. (No need to worry about one liners from me, I always put effort into my replies, always wanna give my partner something to work with.)

FC wise— I will use realistic & anime/manga style for my own original characters/muses etc. I don't mind partners who don't use any at all. Relying only on written descriptions is no issue to me.

(My hard limits & big no-no's : scat / vore / watersports / incest / underage / beastiality)

Sidenote: I like to make collages & pinterest boards, sharing memes, aesthetic/characters inspo as well as stuff that makes me think of our ship. Chatting ooc is nice, just a little bit of friendliness. We don't have to be besties but talking a bit outside of our writing would be cool.

[cosmama]

cosmama ( prev. cosmicworn ) : a headcanon-based / canon-divergent roleplay blog dedicated to sailor cosmos from the manga series, bishoujo senshi sailor moon. est. since 2018.

my name is summer ( she/her ), i’m 21+, and i hope you’re doing well today! standard rp and dni rules apply here. do not follow if you’re: a racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, etc. please don’t follow if you’re the type to harass, stalk other members of the writing community, or just generally don’t have a good vibe. be a decent person please. ❤

i. the basics.

interaction.   this blog is private and selective. due to this not being my only blog, activity will be low. please bear with me and don’t rush me for replies. mutuals are free to tag me in things, come to me for plotting, etc. don’t god-mod, power play, etc. because it’s a pet peeve and will make me instantly unfollow. i don't share my discord out much anymore and typically plot over tumblr ims but long-time mutuals are free to ask for it.

accessibility.   i like aesthetics as much as anyone but making your themes and replies accessible ( easy to read and understand ) is important to me. i won’t follow blogs that aren’t anymore.

mains.   as always, chemistry ( both ic and ooc ) matters; this applies to platonic relationships just as much as it does with romantic ships. please do not try to force a dynamic on me ( ex. akari being your muse’s mother/mother-like figure ) without discussing it with me first - especially if i don't know you. when it comes to shipping, i prefer to single-ship per character ( ex. if i’m shipping with one character, i will not ship with a duplicate of said character ). i don’t generally practice exclusivity but i could be possibly open to it once we’ve interacted long enough both ic and ooc.

activity.  i work a demanding job ( don't we all? ha. ). i also want to be present in my family and friends lives. i want to travel and do so much more. being the most active person on tumblr isn't my priority these days and i encourage everyone to do the same. a lot of us are still here after so long. reply late. take a break. blog hop. it'll be okay. :)

misc.   i prefer to be drama-free but i will reblog callouts about pretty obvious racists, abusers, etc. in the community. otherwise, i’m not interested in engaging in petty rpc drama - i’m here to write. if you don’t like me for existing then please block me; i'll do the same. i tag any negative posts as negative // and ask that people do the same ( as well as tag salt posts ).

ii. the portrayal.

sailor cosmos is a reincarnation of usagi.   i don’t consider this a theory anymore and i write this as such on my blog. when reading between the lines in the manga, sailor cosmos’ dialogue in le mouvement final, etc. everything spells out who cosmos is to me. essentially, usagi is to cosmos / akari what serenity is to usagi.

on the 90s anime.   i haven’t watched all of the 90s anime and probably never will. with that said, i generally prefer how everyone who isn’t usagi, mamoru, and chibiusa are written and handled there compared to the manga. while i am a ‘manga-based’ blog for obvious reasons, i am completely fine with interacting with anime-based portrayals if they’re at least willing to meet me half-way.

on chibi chibi.   i ignore the 90s anime version of the character and follow the manga for my blog canon: she’s simply a means to an end for cosmos; a disguise to get closer to usagi. nothing more, nothing less.

my main verse is during cosmos’ timeline.    i’m no longer interested in the ‘who are you?’ type threads with cosmos. to be blunt, she really has no need or desire to talk to anyone from the ‘canon’ timeline ( ex. the timeline where CT still happens ) nor is it realistic for her to frequently return there the events of stars - chibiusa and usagi herself being the possible exceptions. there is a lot of untapped writing potential surrounding the rebirth of star seeds throughout the galaxy after the chaos war finally ends and encourage others to explore it.

iii. thank you for reading.

credits.   icons made my me. theme created and coded by kas. theme art belongs to vonnabeee / sidneydeng ( used with expressed permission ). avatar art belongs to canary-san. description poem by hallowmist. bio page art belongs to moonlightlace and bacciriccardo. headcanon banner made by rosahope.

[dark-roleplay-finder]

🕷️Hello

This mun is 25+ and seeking long term partners who are at least 18+/21 & up. No minors pls. One of the fandoms I'm looking for is Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes (Preferably the RDJ 2009 movie version) but the Sherlock Holmes (1984 Granada version) is a possibility along with the Sherlock BBC one. I am more comfortable writing Watson but would be willing to switch to Holmes once we've written for a while.

I am also looking for those who are interested in the Fantastic Beasts universe. I have a Newt Scamander (who is a magizoologist/wizard muse) and I'm pretty much now willing to write with any character from the Fantastic Beasts universe. My shipping is selective, but it's not mandatory unless previously discussed.

I recently have come across the movie, Secret Window (2004) and would like to explore the character, Mort Rainey with fandoms either within Stephen King's universe or out of it. I would find it interesting to see how he would function in the Fantastic Beasts world or Sherlock verse. (🕊️This will also have dead-dove content) such as kidnapping tw, torture tw, murder tw and psychological trauma tw

I write in 3rd person and I can do 1-3 paragraphs minimum, + casual banter. Any storyline/thread discussion should be treated as a collab, and shouldn't feel one-sided. Ooc talk is limited unless we're close mutuals. My responses vary between each reply thread, so patience is appreciated. I do like a heads up if replies are taking a little longer than expected though, and vice versa. Please keep in mind I’m looking for something that lasts more than a couple of months as I’d like to be in it for the long haul. If you decide to drop out from a role PLEASE let me know in advance.

I do have discord, but feel free to let me know if thats a preference. Like this post and I’ll reach out to you!

Like this post and the asker will reach out!

[sunshinebbokari]

seeking oc discord 1x1 / group krps

i'm rarely on tumblr, but i need a new outlet for finding partners. i'm open to being invited to any discord group rp if you think i'd be a good match. please send me a message if you do!

group preferences: minimal pre-shipping, plot-focused with regular events, ideally 1-2 faceclaim limit, active + friendly members, socially inclusive playerbase, room for player creativity / input / ideas, lgbt+ character friendly. modern supernatural, mafia/gang, idolverse preferred but open to anything not fantasy, historical, school, or smut based. i currently only write male characters.

otherwise here's my general 1x1 preferences.

i am 25+ so please keep your personal comfort level in mind. i prefer 25+ partners but am open to 21+.

please be comfortable with regular (pref daily) ooc talks, including initiating conversations. i'm highly neurodivergent and chronically ill, so i appreciate patience / understanding and will give you the same.

i'm only comfortable playing m/m pairings. i would also prefer a partner who defaults more to top/dom/switch/vers types because i am primarily a dom/switch/verse player. i dislike passive ship dynamics. if you're familiar with proper D/s dynamics, please come be my friend.

i write third person past tense with around 300 - 800 words per post, occasionally more or slightly less, but usually at least 2-3 paragraphs. i love introspection / detail (please give) but not overly so.

i haven't written smut in many years, but i'm open to it. i prefer slow burn ships with chemistry rather than pre-pairing characters together. this is why i would also prefer that we both play multiple characters in whatever roleplay we do.

i love intense plotting and worldbuilding, constantly throwing ideas around and coming up with new things to add. i also prefer running multiple plotlines at once in the same setting. i love gushing about our characters and everything we're doing. please bring lots of enthusiasm!

i exclusively write ocs with a variety of faceclaims. i have a backlog of 80-100 or so and will try to pick and choose from the backlog as we plot, though i may also make a new character. i have a couple fc pairs i like, but we can mutually discuss our favorites. my main groups are skz + ateez.

my ideal posting speed is multiple replies per day, but my health issues / mental state can sometimes make maintaining that a challenge esp because i'm out of practice. i like to aim for multiple times a week and i love staying involved/hyped ooc in the meantime.

i do have some triggers, but i am willing to thoroughly discuss them before roleplaying and i do still enjoy writing angsty/dark content.

if the way you roleplay is by talking to your characters in your head as if they're real people, i am your guy.

concepts i enjoy: modern supernatural, idolverse (with all the drama), scifi futuristic with political junk (eg: the expanse, liu cixin works), mafia/gangs, street racing. throwing proper D/s dynamics into the mix. open to considering others.

concepts i dislike: smut-focused, historical settings, fantasy-geared, school settings.

please send me a message to get in contact if you're interested or have any questions! i promise i'm nicer than the text wall makes me look.