there's nothing you can do for me, I'm already dead.
born 1938, died 1966, soul pending.
gwynn (she/her). independent fandomless original character. finder, maker & seller of magical artifacts. dead but still kicking, due to a soul not being attached to the body at the time of death, and never after. exploring the themes of the horrors of being a daughter, outliving your time and being forced to face yourself every day.
lovingly poked with a stick by kai, est. 2016, remade 2025.
find me on my other rp blogs β @handgiven & @lifestilled
/ bio under the cut, general rules apply. this blog is a wip. if anything is unclear, ask :)
"i was 28 when i died. an ugly 'ot summer night. i remember being sweaty when i came to and they said i was dead, and all i had to say was "'ow the fuck am i all sweaty then?" lousy bastards had nothin' to answer to that. said there was a discrepancy and i wasn't allowed passage. whatever the hell that meant. said there was no soul registered to my body, and if i never lived, well i never died either.
fairy godmother at the gate spoke in such sorry voice β "oh child, blah blah blah, you need to be brave now, blah blah blah, one final quest and you are through." could you believe it? they misplaced my soul in their bleedin' paperwork and i'm the one that's supposed t' work t' solve it? "oh yes, it's so you can reach your peace. you've gotta admit, there's beauty in earning your paradise, no?" peace'n'paradise m' bloomin' arse. i know where i was goin' and it sure as hell wasn't up there. i nodded though, accepted her stupid quest hoping that it'd get her off my back-- and it did. thing is, once you get put away into that dusty folder on the upper shelf, no one ever comes lookin'. you're free to go 'n' a) be the tool they want y' to be or b) be fucking free and make the most of it while they're not lookin'.
so hey, i'm dead, have been for sixty years, but I'm still kickin'. got into the business of makin' these protective amulets, back then when i was still scared they'd come a-knocking. not sure what good they'd have done me against the almighty back then but y' know i took the time, i read the books, i learned my stuff. and some of my amulets are the best on the market. that's why yer here, no? well, from there it was onto object-oriented magic. y'know i call it OOM, mostly, sounds cooler that way, no? found out i was pretty damn good at it! and even better at the sales... the thing is, when yer selling enchanted objects, it's as much about enchanting them as it is about enchanting the buyer. you've got t' convince 'em they need yer services, and y' need to convince 'em yer services are the real deal. if you're not stupid 'n' don't wanna run straight up charity, you'll typically work in the rule of threes. one real amulet and two pieces of junk at the cost of... oh y' know. y' just tell them they need to be used all at once and by the time they figure out which ones are broke yer long gone, or they don't remember what the amulets were supposed to do in the first place.
I wouldn't call it cheatin', mind you... I'd call it a smart business practice. hey, I've seen what those pigs on wall street get up to. you can't blame a girl fer wanting to turn profit. don't want me livin' in the street, do you? spent a couple years there and 't was no joke. even if there was freedom to it... freedom to learn the important things in life. for example, some coats have awfully shallow pockets. and some poor sods will pay you more for finding the wallet you stole than you'd find in there anyway. rich bastards got two and more wallets these days, would you believe that? β if I wasn't so damn good at enchanting objects i would have gone into technokinesis. no people work, just strollin' up to the atm straight up. i mean, when you think about it, i still work hard for my cash.
anyhow, how's the bracelet treating you? 's it good? 's it comfy? oh don't worry. that one works. i told ya you would forget this entire thing. but hey, that's why you're here, no? to forget? oh you'll be so pleased to know it works... might throw in something fer yer hair while we're at it, no? you know how people are... they find a strand and yer done for. an enchanted hairtie, genius, no? no one's gonna suspect a thing! hm, yeah. that one and... uh... ah! this little charm can go in your wallet, attract money. everyone seems to be into that these days. recession they call it. boohoo. i'm a great depression baby and look at me! more great than depressed, 'onest.
awh, fuck off with that look. take that thing off. I'll tell y' we shook on all that, yeah? you'll be uber impressed, rememberin' jackshit. good talk. thanks. who needs therapy when you've got amnesiac strangers! but now, really, take it off. annnnd... voila, that'll be three grand, darlin', per our agreement."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
sorry the activity on this blog has been so spotty, been sorting through real life and am continuing to do so. I'm moving to a new place in august though and when the dust settles I'd very much like to make a comeback to writing More
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
if you are looking for gwynn in this heatwave, she's currently perfecting her bridge troll impression (chilling underneath a bridge bc a) shade b) cool air from the water c) chilling beers directly in the water d) no one she knows will bother her there)
"that was nice!" gwynn repeats, in her best approximation of his tone. will's always so serious, so meek, so mellow, she finds it hard not to tease him about it at least sometimes. that and... it's nice to further delve away from the way their proximity mere moments ago had her blushing. embarrassing. cringe. stupid. anyway! "β well, i died. once. didn't i ever tell you? it was a weird as hell tuesday."
he's moved off the couch but she lingers on it, cross-legged, hands in her lap, looking up at him with an opaque sort of expression. like she could at any point venture to disclose more details of the story, or burst out laughing and call him naive for believing her for a single second. then a smile bubbles forth, or perhaps more of a half-a-smirk, and it weighs her head to the side. her hair falls on her shoulder as she squints her clear eyes at him. "yeah... they didn't wanna keep me, so i'm here... but i was fully there, i'll have you know."
She's audible before she's visible. Not the sound of her breathing, noo, she gave up on that hours ago - the wheezing of what she's almost certain is a punctured lung was driving her crazy. The least of her concerns really, given the state of her, but the one she coud solve the easiest.
So no, it's not the wheezing. It isn't even the lopsided shuffling steps as she slowly makes her way through the door.
It's the quiet but growled littany of swearing that falls from her mouth as she does so. A littany that only stops after she finally gets the door closed behind her and turns to see the other, and she grimaces. Maybe grimaces. It's hard to tell through the swollen face.
"'m not in th'fuckin' mood," Char mutters. The empty bottle in her hand is abandoned near the doorway in favour of laboriously moving towards the liquor shelf in search of a new one.
char never formally gave her the keys, or even the approval to walk into her home unprompted, even in her absence. gwynn did however make it a habit anyway, picking the lock, hanging out with the cat, drinking char's liquor. truth be told, she liked char's flat. the place she'd been staying at for the past few months has been a mouldy dark thing over a bar and whilst it provided her with privacy, that was it.
char's place over the cafe though... well. in fact, she preferred coming there when char wasn't at home. the leftover smell of her in the air, the abandoned mug on the kitchen table, that was enough char for gwynn's day. and yet! and yet the other simply had to ruin her day by coming early. another stupid prank in a long line of them, except--
"char, what the fuck?" she'd been eating cheetos out of the bag while balancing on the backrest of the couch, and almost lost her balance at the sight of char by the door. the sight of her, not... just her existence in itself.
she drops the bag on the couch. cheetos spill out. she doesn't notice, she's too busy sliding off of it, wiping her hands on her pants in the meantime and getting to her. "what did you do?" char always made fun of her for not testing the limits of her own immortality enough. well, in gwynn's opinion, char's been testing hers way too much.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
sender kisses receiver to shut them up. how bout that
VARYING KISSES PROMPT
@hellpending
The two of them had made it a habit of sitting down on the living room couch and just catching up with one another once a week. Somehow, William had taken most of the couch as he lay down near Gwynn. The angel was going on and on about the numerous historical figures that he had befriended throughout his time in this world. He had come to talk about Naploan and was explaining what he thought was the greatest accomplishment, and that was the institutionalization of meritocracy and how that led to the foundation of the modern day.
Much to the dismay of Gwynn, who rolled her eyes at Will's claim, it was apparent that she was getting fed up with all of this talk about the dead. However, William did not seem to notice her annoyance and continued to rant on and on about it. Gwynn came to only one conclusion to get out of this mess. As William turned his head to look up at her, that's when she leaned in and pressed her lips against his own. To shut him up for a few moments. In those moments, as the angel felt the witches' lips against his own, he brought his hand up to her hair and twirled a strand in his fingers. He opened his mouth against hers, attempting to sit up a bit straighter to give her more access, but she quickly pulled away from him.
"You were saying about Naploan?" she'd asked him in a tone full of innocence. All the angel could think about was who Napoloan was and why he was talking about him.
will always had the habit of talking too much. to an extent, she tolerated it with patience that surprised even herself. she supposes it had to do with the way he sometimes seemed to leave his body when he did. aim his blue eyes deep into space, or perhaps another time, and just let memories draw into words upon his tongue without much effort but with a lot of truth. he wasn't preaching, he wasn't lecturing, he was trying to search for something in himself to speak openly and fully and she usually was willing to entertain the idea, even if it took a while to get there.
napoleon, however... meritocracy! ha! somewhere around minute three she'd lost interest, around minute five she'd zoned out for a daydream of a memory of her own and around minute seven she turned her head to listen to him again but only found more napoleon on his lips. she shook her head. almost thought she'd shake a tiny man out of her ear in doing so, or perhaps a whole army. fuck that. around minute eight she'd lost her patience. and the thing is, he was a pretty man. he made leaning into the kiss almost too easy. and when he strove to kiss her back it made her innards jumble in a way she didn't like. she may have pulled the innocent look but she did also bear those flashes of red in her cheeks that did give away something else.
"you were saying about napoleon?" she did ask and then added: "because from where I'm sitting it seems like he's more dead than me." she drops that line like it's nothing. a way to put a space between them where she'd been the one to close it before. nothing but a friendly reminder: oh yes, she is so dead.
fight: the need to 'develop' gwynn's mother, put a name on her, a face, a story. think about her dad, too. versus gwynn never finds out, and there's no way for her to ever find out in any way that matters. even if she's given a name, a face, a story, it will forever feel fake because she never knew this woman. this man. she only knows what they made of her. she knows her hands, her eyes, her anger. all of that is real, and surely comes from them to a degree. that's it. the name, the face, the story β none of it matters, really.
"sometimes i dream about it. the house i came from. it's small and smells of wood. it's empty. the sun pours in through the windows that are not clean but not dirty, and it's empty inside. no sounds coming from the outside either. what's there? a garden? a field? it's so green it makes my head hurt but β where is everyone? and then i walk through the house and discover it on the shelves. my mother's anger, my mother's anguish, my father's fear. right there for the taking like you would an antique watch, a folded up shirt, a photograph. there's nothing left from them but these feelings tied into a knot in my stomach. and it's fucking exhausting."
"You're not a monster," I said.
But I lied.
What I wanted to say is that a monster is not such a terrible thing to be. From the Latin root monstrum, a divine messenger of catastrophe, then adapted by the Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins: centaur, griffin, satyr. To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
thinking abt gwynn getting rec'd on earth we're briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong. the whole book is a letter to the author's mum written as a series of reflections on his life with her, but also aspects of it that she would have not known about. a letter that will never be read by her, but which he still feels it's important to write nonetheless. she'd only be able to read a few pages before being overwhelmed by the need to try her hand at writing her own.
now, gwynn doesn't know her mum. never knew anything about her other than imagining that she also had red hair, and that she also practiced magic. that's how it goes, no? but i imagine gwynn sitting down and actually trying to write to this might-as-well-be-fictional woman. she's not much of a writer either. she'd probably get very sad and very angry and very frustrated throughout the process. but it might honestly help her make her mum into a real person in her mind. someone whose only proof of existence is gwynn herself, and the name she was given.
@stillandsilentheart got me thinking abt immortality with quirks. it's so easy to say a character is immortal and have that be the plot armour that frames their narrative. but it's never that simple!! they may be immortal but... can they still suffer? What's more, can they be sure that their immortality is endless and unconditional? par example, gwynn died once, yes. she stopped aging following the incident. she still gets hurt and-- plot twist, she's terrified of dying again bc she fears she might not get away this time. if anything, she thinks of herself not as an immortal human but as a sort of fleshy ghost, living her second life scared half to death of getting dragged into the afterlife regardless of what she does
