Just Please...you Know...give Me A Little Idea Who You Are, Too. Lol

🥓 (From Merc if my muse is required.)

Anafenza pushes a few stray hairs behind her horn.  “My family?  It’s not exactly ‘typical,’ if you’re expecting that...But just boil it down to a single person?  Hmm...

“I mean, you know Sasari and Sasani.  They’re practically family, since their family took me and Aroo - that’s Aruktai - in when we fled the Steppe.  And you know Kiratai I imagine.  Big, blue Xaela; he was usually running around keeping Sasari from starving most days.  Nowadays he just moves around in his chair, on account of him being hurt when the twins were kidnapped and thought dead.  I think the injury destroyed his pride worse than his legs - it hurts to see him so much more quiet and reserved.  Still, he’s a joy to be with, and he still cares a lot for me.  He still treats me like his sister, no matter how much I tease him and annoy him.  I can’t climb up on his shoulders like I used to - and he’s probably grateful for that, too - but he’s the one family member that I never want to see go.  He’s the best big brother I could have asked for, but even then...there’s much more to him.  My Kiri-kun.”  She smiles and shrugs a little. 

Thanks @lalaliya!

Reblog this.

If you do not care what gender your roleplay partner identify themselves as.

Be they male, female, trans, or whatever else is out there.

If you are a friend, you are a friend. If we ship our muses together, we ship the heck out of our muses. I don’t care if you are a female playing male, a male playing female or whatever is inbetween.

You are precious no matter what you are. And I love you.

@Steelcarbuncle

Absolutely terrifying.

reblog if you’re 25+ and still roleplay; or if you believe older muns have a place in the rpc and shouldn’t be told to give it up when they turn 30. 

i received this anon & i just want to make a point. 

Dream Journal 12

Woke up to kiratai shaking me roughly    I was talking in my sleep and I sounded like I was in trouble, so he woke me.  I was the younger girl again, and again I felt as if the wind and rains were at my command.  I wore special armored gloves that made these incredibly strong sounds that could throw grown men through the air.  I was with two other women roaming a…city, I suppose, though I’ve never seen buildings as tall nor constructed in such a fashion…that is, until Ishgard.  I suppose the location could have lent itself to some of my fancy.  I’m going to curl back up with Kirikun now and sleep

 ((Scrawled quickly, in shorthand and sloppy, the follow passage appears on the page, as if Anafenza was once again taking notes hastily))

 There once lived a brave knight.  Full of courage and chivalry and kindness.  He was a knight of Ishgard, a Temple Knight, one of the most respected in the land.  His shield bore no hint of his allegiance, beyond the blue as the skies and white wings.  His devotion was to his country and his countrymen.

But he was young...and as most young men do, he fell in love.  He fell in love with a woman he shouldn't have even known.  She was common; he was valiant.  But he loved her.  And, everyone knew, she loved him as well.  They married.  There was talk, as there should be in Ishgard, but no one truly cared.  They were happy for the knight and his wife.

But the nights in Ishgard are rarely peaceful, and rarely do the knights know peace. gods that sounded amazing when he said that!!

The wyrms attacked one eve, not more than a bell after sundown.  They brought down fire from the heavens, ripping the great stone walls apart with their claws, and eating up women and naughty children  did he really just say naughty children!?  Is this a bedtime story?

The knight fought bravely, as he had every other night.  He fought with a fire his fellow knights hadn't seen before.  He was scarcely the same man.  They said he had something far more important, far more dear to fight for, for his wife, he’d learned, was with child.  With a great, ferocious cry, he thrust his sword into the head of the last dragon.  The battle was won.  Ishgard stood, strong as ever

The knight hurried home, not even bothering to wash his hands of the deeds from that night, his armor crimson with wyrmsblood.

But when he arrived, not a stone was left standing atop another.  All the walls had been felled.  The roof burned away.  And there, in the center of the rubble, lay the knight’s wife, still as the night.

The knight dropped his shield.  His sword he drove into the ground, the only support left for him that night, and he wailed.  He wailed and he cried and he cursed and he prayed and he swore and he hoped and bargained, he said anything he could think and everything he should not...all for the sake of his wife.  

But some bargains are better left unmade...and more still better unpaid…A dark cloud rose from the rubble, shadows dancing inside.  The cloud surrounded the knight and his wife...and in it a voice that said…"Brave knight of Ishgard, we have heard your grief. Tell us, what you would do for our relief?"

"Anything," was his reply.  "You may have my sword, my life.  Please, bring back my wife."  

The voice, it laughed, and then replied.  "On you and on yours, twenty-fold.  We bind you, brave knight, and your sword, and take your oath, your word.”

The cloud grew thicker...it drowned out the light.  The knight fell ill, and then fell asleep.  by the kami I know this cloud!!

The sun rose, the morning came.  The knight awoke, his sword in hand.  It felt heavier now; no longer did it shine in his hand.  He heard a gasp, and a sob of despair.  The knight sat up, looking for where.  

His wife was alive; in the rubble she stood.  But she seemed different somehow, somewhere.  Her eyes seemed dull, her hair darker still.  Her skin far more ashen...her voice trembled, "what did happen?" she asked.

But the knight only stood.  He stared and he wondered and he thanked the gods and the hells...His fair wife was alive, and with him still.  From then on he fought with no purpose, none save for his wife...and the oath he had sworn. They still were in love, and she bore him a daughter.  But the love was not strong, not as it had been, not any longer.  And the knight was reminded of the bargain he'd made, day in and day out...for the monsters had carved it upon the maid.

  Dzamael servant stopped us at the airship docks.  wanted to speak but could not be gone from his master too long.    He had overhead us asking about the house Vignesang, which he is a descendant of!!  He could not speak to the location of Jessika’s family – they’d left decades ago – but he did know the legend of the knight’s wife and told it to us.  I wrote it down above as he spoke…I asked him if this was nothing more than a bedtime story. He laughed,s aying most stories are just truth that’s been forgotten.  Then he pointed at the scales on my side, saying I bore the same mark as the maid – the Bloodvine, the symbol of House Vignesang.  He bade us leave ishgard before an over-zealous inquisitor see it, and then he left.

Conflux, Pt. 3

“So let me get this straight.  You’re me…from the future?”

The elder Jessica – who, it had been decided upon by the three women, would be called “Commander” – shrugged and nodded, as if that wasn’t the best explanation.  “Future Earth, yes, but I’d wager I was from a different universe, too.  I have no idea if a ‘Paragon City’ even exists in my universe, but I’m pretty sure we don’t have living comic-book heroes in my world.”

The younger of the two – who asked to go by her hero name of “Stormscream,” but settled for “Stormy” when the other two women refused – shook her head.  “I mean, sure, we have comics too, who doesn’t?”  She ignored Ana raising her hand at this.  “But you pretty much leapt right out of the television screen of one of my favorite science fiction shows!”

Anafenza struggled to keep up with the women, who spoke of a whole different world they both knew well: Earth.  It was a planet, which she likened to her own Hydaelyn, though the majority of people there were “humans;” the Commander had called up a picture of one on the hand-held device she carried, and Ana had recognized the Hyur immediately.

Commander St. Peter had catalogued it as another similarity between the three women.  The list was, admittedly, small.  More was in common between the two Jessicas beyond their appearance, they discovered; both were orphans, both were adopted by a man named Jason, both loved the rain, they had similarly-named lovers.  It was far too fantastic to be pure coincidence.  Now they were comparing differences.

Commander St. Peter came from a future Earth, where she served in an exploratory service called “Starfleet” as a ship’s captain.  She was an alien, adopted by a human, and was currently in command of the starship Rafale, a spaceship.  Before waking in the cavern, she had been in her office on her ship, going over recent scans of a nearby system.

“Stormscream,” meanwhile, was nearly ten years younger, and already a registered hero in her home city, on a version of the same planet nearly four centuries earlier.  She was a hyur, but what they called a “mutant” in her world.  Anafenza listened with great interest and delight to discover it was this Jessica she’d dreamt of flying through the city and holding command over the weather; the girl was able to control the weather at will, and used her ability to call forth lightning to power her gauntlets and turn the energy into powerful blasts of sound.  Unfortunately, the girl had just laid down to sleep herself as well; she was dressed only in loose cotton pants and shirt, without her armor and gauntlets.

Then it was Anafenza’s turn to talk.  She swallowed hard.  “I’m Anafenza, like I explained.  My tribe is the Ejinn.  I come from a world called Hydaelyn, the continent of Eorzea.  I…am not anything really special,” she continued, and noticed both women eye each other skeptically.  “Honest, I’m not.  I bake, I clean, I love to swim, I can hold my breath for over a quarter bell, I love my friends but I can’t do anything to protect them…and for the past few weeks I’ve dreamt about both of you.”  The other two just nodded at this revelation, taking the wind from Anafenza’s sails. She looked at the two of them in confusion.  “You don’t…seem concerned by this?”

The Commander shrugged apologetically.  “Truth be told…I was having dreams as the two of you, too.”

“Same,” Stormy admitted, blushing a little.  “Which is why I thought this was still a dream.”

“Maybe it is,” Anafenza replied with a shrug.  “Maybe we’re just figments of each others’ imaginations?”

“So who’s the dreamer?” Stormy asked.

Commander St. Peter sighed and shook her head.  “Before we go in-depth in the psychological analysis of this, let’s just assume we’re all awake and here with one another…”  She tapped the device in her hand – a “scanner,” she’d explained, and frowned.  “It’s still pulling information from my ship’s computer…fascinating…”

Ana leaned towards Stormy. “Computer?”

“Yikes…you don’t have much technology where you come from?”

“Only the Garleans and ancient Allag…most of my people rely on magic and aether.”

“The computer is a piece of technology that can store, recall, and display information,” the Commander explained.  “It’s a library, but it’s all stored in…energy, basically, instead of books.”  She bit her lip, still reading her scanner, before snapping it closed.  She tapped the arrowhead on her chest, eliciting a small chirp from the gold and silver brooch.  “Oh, that’s a good sign.”

“What is,” Anafenza asked, confused.

She tapped the brooch again, and another chirp came out.  “No error sound.”

Stormy snapped her fingers. “Your ship is still close enough to be received.”  She pulled a black rectangle from the pocket of her pajama pants and tapped the front of it, making it light up.  She blinked. “I…have a signal too, on my phone. It’s roaming, but I have a connection.” She looked up in confusion.

“Curious.”  The Commander turned to Anafenza.  “You don’t…have anyway to communicate with people on your world, do you?”

Ana tapped her horn, where a small pearl was embedded in the scales.  “Linkpearls.  They let us talk over distances with one another.”  She tapped the pearl again, hearing it ring as it activated.  She shook her head quickly in surprise.  “Gods…it works!”

“How are all three of us still in range of wherever it was that we came from,” Stormy asked.

Commander St. Peter shook her head.  “The only thing I can thing is that we’re somehow trapped in some sort of…pocket dimension.  That exists simultaneously near all three of our starting points in time and space.”

Anafenza shook her head and huffed.  “Speak plainly, please?”

Stormy giggled.  “Pocket dimension, kinda like the nightclub?  The Pocket D?”

The Commander and Anafenza both stared at Stormy; she lowered her head in awkward silence.  “Apparently not…”

Commander St. Peter shook her head.  “I have no idea why or how you could build anything in a pocket dimension.  They’re highly unstable and short-lived.”

Anafenza didn’t like the sound of this.  “Meaning?”

“Meaning, we only have a few hours, if even that long, to get out of here before this dimension collapses in on itself with us still inside.”

There was a stunned silence in the cavern, until Stormy cleared her throat.  “Well, shit…”

Journal Entry 4

Its now been a few weeks...perhaps even a moon or more I cant remember anymore.  my heart still feels cleaved cloven in two.  the cafe is empty...completely dead of life.  staying in kugane is harder still...i cannot stand the wait to go to the steppes.  to see kiratai.  to find the graves.  we have so many unanswered questions and i miss them terribly

Reblog this.

If you do not care what gender your roleplay partner identify themselves as.

Be they male, female, trans, or whatever else is out there.

If you are a friend, you are a friend. If we ship our muses together, we ship the heck out of our muses. I don’t care if you are a female playing male, a male playing female or whatever is inbetween.

You are precious no matter what you are. And I love you.

Ok, I’m not a big fan of these kinds of posts, but lately, I’m becoming more and more disheartened so I need to know if you’re out there. 

Please reblog this post if you are willing to write with ‘un-shippable’ muses. 

I’m talking about those muses who are perhaps elderly, who are married/taken and not liable to affairs, muses who are asexual/aromantic, or even just muses whose muns don’t really want to ship. 

While I’m always happy that anyone would want to write with me, sadly, over time I have realised that my older/married/ace muses are very rarely (virtually never) requested. So please share this on your blog so that people know they can throw their muses at you who are not going to wind up in ships or with smut threads. 

I got a thing!!  Thank you so much @mirror-apple, I love it!