𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 . . .

┊┊┊ A simple roleplay blog for my creative needs and love for sharing stories with others alike. A lot of happenings will be present on this blog such a DARK THEMES, SMUT, SILLY SHIT and LOTS OF CHARACTERS. I am currently cruising at a solid 190-ish muses here, so have some fun with me.

┊┊┊ I do make edits of icons, borders, promos and the likes. I'm more than happy to share what I've created for free cause they aren't anything great nor anything too fancy that warrants it. Just hit me up in DMs or in the replies and I'm more than happy to share things. That being said, just don't steal anything I've created myself, would be grand.

┊┊┊ Muses on this blog are from various inspirations, my own delulu's and passions in different cultures, religions, mythologies etc. They are made for me, and me alone, I just get to share them with ya'll. If anything isn't to your fancy, please move on, thanks a bunch.

┊┊┊ I don't need people holding my hand or giving me any form of a pedestal treatment. I am but a humble idiot online like the rest of us. Treat me with decency and I'll return what I get. Don't panic or think for me in reactions to yourself, you do you, and I'll do me. My old blog was gravesradium, if you remember me from back then, holy shit we're so old.

┊┊┊ [ Rules ] + [ Selection ] + [ Opens ] - Feel free to browse, send asks and/or chat w/ me in DMs anytime. I'm here for the fun of it all and can't wait to see what we can create together!

┊┊┊ Please read the rules and follow accordingly, they are blunt and they are semi-brief but it's better for all those involved. You don't owe me anything and I don't owe you anything but for the love of all gods, look after yourself without making it everyone else's problem.

Lohen has chased a lot of creatures throughout his years, but he has to admit that this thief in particular has to be one of the more persistent plagues he has come across. It's not that Einri is quicker than him, no, but he's stubborn. Dropkick him on a tuesday morningand he'll be back doing this usual thing the same evening. He could've blamed on having knocked logic out of him, but Lohen feared that this was just a case of pure stupidity. The sort he often saw in so many others, and so, he had to admit that is was fun.

"Relax," he reassures the thief whose glance he has come to catch from the sidelines, nestled up on a chair outside of a tavern with two glasses on the table. With a friendly gesture he points to one of the glasses. "I'm off duty at the moment and can't find a good reason to get up and chase you. The knights don't pay me that well – have a drink, will you? Take it as a formal apology of the day I almost fractured your back..."

A proper, well-brewed glass of apple cider never did anyone any harm.

Flight or Fight took him in a second, and it was enough for Lohen to notice. To call off the need to flee for the streets yet again for the factor, they were… not at all showing signs of wanting to chase either. Einri wasn't a fool, he knew that this guy had the speed, power and authority to lock him up at any point, not that he'd stay there for long, but it wasn't a song and dance to get inside and out. This guy had that power though to constantly pull him into a holding cell for his own pleasure… but no, Lohen barely did that. He enjoyed it, the chase, the thrill of the hunt and Einri - knew he was shit hot at giving dogs their meat.

With warmth at his back, skin rosy from the fireplace, he sighed into the cooler air. The only reason he came outside this night, no juicy gossip this time nor a target to play around with so, the offering a drink? From him? Einri couldn't deny he was thirsty but even so, as he moved closer to the outside seating. His hand slid over the table-top to ease his weight, though he misjudged the distance of his elbow and cup provided promptly knocking it off the table in a slosh and clatter. "Oh shi--." Hands scrambled to grab the cup, the liquid within however didn't survive. "Ah… my bad." Genuine as he moved to place the empty cup back onto the table and seat himself proper.

"Shame that." He looked to the puddle, soaked already through cobbled flooring and angled build causing it to drain to the sewers. Mora was plucked from under his headband, placed and slid over with a soft smile. "For the drink." Though, he didn't move much else, he did relax where he was. Sighing out loud even as body heat fell a few degrees. "Apology ain't needed, Mr. Vice Cap'. Just doing your duty, no?" Though his back still smarts here and there, he was amused by it. "No lasting damage, not the first time my back's been put out from legs in the air. That being said, you have great aim. I swear you flew from that balcony to take me out." To be impressed by getting drop-kicked shouldn't be a conversation but Einri was not going to deny it.

"My soul bond? One of the best. He will slaughter hundreds for my name if he so desired it! Thankfully the world can rest at ease since he isn't the sought to fight for no reason. He loves to travel, even now, he rests in a dwelling with Elves! I will visit him soon, but it's never a need to be at his side always. We've been together already for seven hundred years. We like to travel on our own, see the world and reunite when the paths cross." Nose was almost in the air, his grandiose flaunting was within good reason, he had fresh ears, new drakes and hatchlings that marvelled upon his being.

Narciso

Gets lost in his head a lot in the same manner of daydreaming / fantastizng about things in his life and how it could have been. He wasn't completely sheltered, but he was born fully grown. He didn't have a 'childhood' in the sense of ageing from baby to adult, so he didn't get to experience the phases of 'human life' in that sense. He read books and was taught a lot but Vincenzo about the world, but he was still a newborn in the sense of understanding things.

Stories really got him riled up, he reacted emotionally on the extremes at times but with his life as it is now, that quirk remains. The daydreaming of being saved by Knights, of hearing about Adventuring, of Goldilocks and the three bears, the wolf that huffs and puffs, etc. He tends to forget that he can make the majority of those things happen for himself, but it's so much more normal and fun for him to be lost in his own world about it.

Narciso's other quirks; can't let different food types touch on his plate, will always eat with a knife and fork, rarely uses electricity, rarely ever leaves a store/shop without buying at least five items.

Claude

Takes notes about a lot of things he sees in person or thinks about, though he isn't actively writing books at the moment, the lifelong career habit is always writing down what catches his eye. His attention, the flow of the weather or the people around him.

A lot of his books have annotations in their margins or empty back pages, he doesn't mean to defile them in that manner but when paper and pen is in his possession it just tends to happen. Filled to the brim with little things in his surroundings.

He'll fall into a lull of just living in the presence of all the noise and interest and get carried away easily. Several books have been filled in their margins with notes like 'dropping apple pie onto dogs head, funny.', 'lake side crumbled from the rain', 'busy mother with three kids, loud but stable, good parentin', etc.

Now that he thinks about it, he should start preparing for his needs. Ueda wasn't a wyvern so he couldn't feel the changes, but still - Luit was going to be needing him a lot in the next few months, no? A subtle frown, hand to chin as he really thinks about it. A stressed mate from work wasn't going to be ideal so he has to fix their issue fast so that things go smoothly. He wants to take his time with Ueda this season, provide and share everything in grandiose fashion even. Their cavern home was... nice, it was big, but - it could be better.

A new den for them? More human? Should we make Ueda shine in wealth? Gates dens he's seen in his flights - maybe something akin to those things would please his mate too? But, Ueda never seemed to want for such things, he was so pleased with already with their current den? Hm. A deeper frown, an itch to clean, to remove all things that wasn't praised in some time from his mate.

"Mon coeur, I can call you that in ink and you cannot scold me for it and something about knowing that you are frowning all the same pleases me. Predictable thing that you are. I imagine you're grateful for the silence of my absence but I find myself wishing to speak to you in whatever capacity I can. Again you are probably scoffing as you read this, if you're even still reading it at all. Perhaps you've already torn this letter to shreds and allowed the winds to carry it away. Will I find fragments of it lining nests the next time I visit?

Work has taken me far this time. It is cold and wet and even my fur is struggling to keep me warm from the harsh winds of wherever I actually am at the moment. I haven't seen another living soul save for Mallory in three days and my quarry is proving rather difficult to track. It's scent comes and goes, and I feel as though I am simply wandering in circles, almost as if it is toying with me. Perhaps it is, I'm told that the Ijiraq are tricky things that cannot be looked at directly.

Are you keeping well? Eating? Getting enough sleep? Are you rolling your eyes at my worrying? I'd bet my collar that you are. Forgive me? I know you can take care of yourself, that you are formidable even know, but I worry all the same, human that you are.

I miss you. I know it is not returned but allow me to tell you all the same. Not that you can stop me, what with me being thousands of miles away and you having already read the words (unless you truly did rip it up in which case, hello little sparrow, may your children be safe and grow strong). I miss your scent and that furrow in your brow that you get. I miss watching you move around, so sure in your own body even as it pains you as the years continue to creep along. I miss your voice, of the few times you've deigned to speak to me.

I fear I've grown maudlin in this lonely hell hole. Ah, would that I could be there with you instead, listening to you grumbling about me under your breath but still offering me food when I am injured. You brought this on yourself I fear, you should know better than to feed strays lest they keep coming back.

The light is fading quickly so I'll wrap this up before you can no longer read my writing. I have no idea how long this hunt will take (or if I will even survive it, this place feels cursed) but I hope to see you again in the near future.

Take care of yourself and know that you are in my thoughts always. Thierry.

She didn't linger, which was too expected, but to still watch her leave with wings as large as a child and speed calling for nothing but the return to her other's side. Gates could understand it. If he understood the most he could from familiars, they were not just companions but parts of each other in a sense of a limb. He's never had such, animal companions were far and few between when you lived as a hunter. Good as they were in tracking or alerting the camp, they were often the first to be taken out by smart monsters.

As he waits until he can no longer see her in the clouds, he looks to the letter in his grip. His own frame about to head out for a hike now that his wounds have long healed, and his bones ache for movement outside his four walls. He dares open the letter now though, instead, he returns to grabbing his bags strap upon shoulder and ties it securely before moving out his fenced land. The walk was long, worth the sweat but the well-worn mud-path was worth the hours it took for him to reach the hillside. Over the lake it looked, open and without means of ambush, even from the direction behind him - where he stood, now sat, he found himself at peace.

Bag at his side and the crinkle of the letter reminded him of its presence, so, he inhaled the atmosphere and took to the paper. Ink, no, pencil, noticed upon its openness. Neat and with a careful hand, the letter within was removed and opened up for his eyes to settle upon in reading.

To be called out in the first line… did, against his usual nature, make him snort with humour. To read it in writing, was a little strange to feel. He was prone to his ways, he knew how horrid he was to a lot of things and beings that meant nothing but a passing but with Thierry, it was a mix of both fear and expectation. They were a beast, a mighty one, even though he knew very little on their species, he knew enough of a predator from his years of hunting them. They were very good at wearing masks, skins, guises to get as close as they could before striking, and he's yet to not be hurt by a creature like that…

But him.

As of yet.

The thought was dismissed with a furrow of his brow, turning attention back to the written paragraphs of his absences reasoning. The Ijiraq, it's name… familiar. A haunting shiver up his spine even in the sun, yes, he remembers those things. Hard to hunt, but a method he remembers nearly killed him if it wasn't for his team at the time. Ice fishing for a mirror, the garments of a newborn smothered in the birthing blood of a recent Mother. It was a gorish hunt, his memory of it though hazy. He was a rookie, back then - he got a good shot in before his memory stops. Knocked out he was told, tossed like a rag doll and into a snow pile that broke his fall. A scar behind his ear was the battle wound trophy for that.

As he takes it in, he starts to notice something else about it. Without the beast… Thierry here, he didn't feel the pressure to react, to stay cold, to glower and wish ill upon them, to speak his hurts and curses to make them go away. In reality, he should have torn this letter up as predicted, let the sparrows take it for nesting in the coming months but instead, as he sat and read each paragraph with rapt attention. He felt his heart… lighten. His mind no longer fighting against what he should do to protect itself from what it knows, but also the humanity in this letter spoke to him more than their face and lack of explanation for things.

It was the curse of most humans. Putting humane feelings and thoughts onto those that aren't, but Gates couldn't hide behind that. Thierry wasn't mindless, far from it - he knew from cues in not speaking, he didn't push or prod, tease his wards or break them to see reactions. He remained close by but never invading. Even the gifts he brought at times didn't cross the line. Clothing, materials, food - though easily poisoned, they were still offered with clear intent to just provide. Wingates folded the letter back up once he had finished it. Held it in his grip for a while longer even - before he exhaled with softened shoulders. Tucking the letter into his bag, then staring… at that damned cloak.

It was beautifully made, a shade he wouldn't mind wearing and the design of it held many weavers he knew to shame. He wasn't sure why he pulled it along with him then again, he could say the same about the bracelet that still hung above his door. He shouldn't have it, but he couldn't throw it away either. Same with that damned cloak. Out here, away from his home and eyes of possible watchers in Thierry's steed - did he move to pull the fabric from the bags depth and shuffle it over his shoulders.

The weight of it felt good, not stifling but weather ready. The weave, stitch and colours went well with what he liked and well… It was bloody warm. The chill in the air, even the sun on his back lessened but didn't increase inside its protection either. Enchanted, he could tell off the bat. As he sat and thought about it all, he wasn't sure why he denied this Hunter as much as he did. He was a Hunter, he knew the world for it was in the darkness, but he also knew - Thierry, folks like him, that agency of his - they fought for humans using monsters as weapons too. It wasn't any different to what he did in his prime.

It wasn't like he denied all supernatural things, he had crafters and shamans and others that aided in his weapon creation. He knew magic enough to recognise spells and runes but never could he forge them himself. A human with a lot of hate, knowledge and strength to hunt was his gimmick. Now though - he was just an old fool, angry at the world and upset he could no longer hunt those that damaged the things he loved.

Inhaling the breeze, the cloak worn held a scent he didn't know either, but he exhaled with a state of calmness to it. Raising his touch to the lettering and closing his eyes just for a moment.

Thinking about the past, his highs and lows, his hunts and wounds - made him think of something else. A different method, the defeat of not being able to drive them away fully was to be changed in tactics then. If he couldn't drive Thierry away, he'll learn everything he can about him and get to the bottom as to Why, Thierry couldn't leave him alone to fester and age in peace.

…

Well, that was if, Thierry came back from this mission of his. Ha.

Humans are contradictory things, weren't they?

what's your opinion on ocs in general?

beautiful, creative, stunning, heartwarming, immaculate, trashy, smutty, whore it up, fuck the status quo, go wild, create that bih, write that bih, cry about tha'bih, etc.

Making ocs is just one of those things you have the passion for or you don't, ain't no right or wrong, but there are guidelines on how to be with them, how to write them in the sense of making them appealing and fun.

I say, make an oc the moment u can, feel the creative flow and just have fun. It's rough enough slapping rules onto 'em to fit in w/ your dash. go insane in the membrane and tweek things out after you've settled down.

do you have any hot takes about ocs?

that being said, motherfuckers need to stop guilting / muse locking ocs for others. I've never in my life been told that 'if you don't rp with my fem oc you will be blocked for just wantin' male ocs' and it's like, fam, gtfo. my preference will always be the homosexual man on man because that's my jam. that's my enjoyment, my bl passion thrives in the m/m line so to see someone be so anal, without the fun, and gatekeepy is just depressing.

9 times outta 10 I see folks be all, rp w/ fem ocs and chant all that good chant, but then they'll only write with male ocs w/ their fem ocs, like, where's the practice of your preachin'? where's the fem ocs u so darn wish for interactions with?

also on that note, it's not as common but I've seen enough of it of ppl usin' male canons to bring followers in and then puttin' them on break to push their fem ocs forward instead. like mate, I ain't got time for that.

That bein' said, if your oc is interestin, is written well, is being placed into peoples line of vision, they will get interactions and people will enjoy them. forcing, tricking, gatekeepin' anything for that interaction is insane to me. Just have fun without the weird mindgames and just write your oc in their bubble.

if it's only w/ 5 people, that's 5 people! sayin' ya ocs trash or not gettin' enough attention just shits on the people that are already interacting w/ em.

Laughter was soft and at peace, pain seemed like a distant ache now as he rose his head into those hands happily. His lashes flutter with adoration and delight, his own touch raising to Arsenio's face in return to mimic the hold as their lips touch over and over. "Arsenio… " A praise. "Arsenio." A mantra. "Arsenio, I love you." A promise of a lifetime, of long awaited release of the words that once cut his throat open with every syllable.

Now, he could speak and voice his love, his hurts, his yearning for his lover who waited for him and tended to him whilst ill. Though he was still on bed rest, his fever having passed the worst in the last few nights - he was stronger. He felt better, his mind fragile and aches in the cranium but nothing compared to the living-doll he had become from his own self-given curse.

what qualities do you and your oc have in common?

Man, a lot of my muses hold a lot of me in 'em in some form, guess the biggest one is the Fixer/Parent role in me. I ain't maternal in any form, but I see someone struggling and I gotta throw my anxiety on the backseat and take control at the wheel. I'll order you food, I'll talk to the stranger, I'll make you think about other things than sit and be sad - etc.

A lot of my muses have that trait in 'em, Tyler, Velkan, Curtis, Shane - etc, just gOTTA FIX THE ISSUE, make everything happy and peaceful lmao.

are there any canon characters you wish would interact with your oc?

I do and don't, in the sense I can see it happening but I like just thinking about moreso for myself than to thread it out? A lot of my Yokai's would like fit perfectly in like Mononoke, Mushishi, Natsume Yuujinchou like Slice of Life animes. Kusuriuri, Ginko and Natsume would be amazing to rp with but at the same time, I prefer daydreaming about it :wheeze.

in your opinion, what's the hardest thing to do when creating an oc?

Getting the kickstart, sometimes, with a new one. When I'm creating them I'm already like half-way through their whole thing, tick listing how would they be acting in this scene or that situ', it's easy to get lost in the brain game of barbie house but when it's on the dash. It's a fresh start, it's a clean 'check this oc out, would u like to play' and when nothing bites it sets you back a bit? Only a bit though, when you've been here for a long time like my crusty ass, that's the time to spam the dash with HC's, images, little ic posts to get the feelers out there but also for myself to get in the head of the oc a little more.