Multiverse, multifandom OC 18+ Only. Original character and writing are mine and not for reproduction without permission. I do NOT consent to having any of my original writing or artwork used in any way with any form of AI generation.
Multi-fandom OC.
(Fandom based, but with original lore.)
(Full list of fandoms and AUs on the link below.)
This blog is now Mutuals Only (26th Dec 2025)
(Unless we have already been writing together! Sideblogs please message and let me know. I may take a little while to follow back!)
1. Mun is 40+. Victoria, Australia (Australian EST). 21+ partners preferred, selective with 18-21. No Minors.
2. Please read rules before interacting.
On the readmore below.
Last rules update: 23rd April 2026
3. Muse Info, all verses and AUs.
Some AU verses have different versions of the muse.
Marvel, Dune and Tolkien verses are movie/TV based.
4. Policies on this blog.
Not 'rules' but how I do things here.
5. Memes - please don’t reblog from me if you’re not going to send one. Reblog from the source instead.
Memes - Ship Memes - Headcanon Memes - NSFW Memes / NSFW HCs -
Munday Memes - Open Starters
6. Muse Stats
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue-Grey
Age: In AU verses, usually 30+
Place of Birth: In her main verse, Cornwall, England
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Heterosexual
7. Rules under the Readmore below.
Basics
Original character and writing are mine and not for reproduction. (2012-2026). Likewise original graphics on the blog.
I want nothing to do with AI generated content.
These rules may seem harsh, but they're the result of people ignoring them when they've been put 'nicely'. If I've blocked you on your previous blogs please don't refollow on new ones.
------------
I do NOT RP with:
Minors. No-one under 18 years, selective with under 21. No age mentioned, no follow.
Personal (non-RP) blogs. Please let me know if you have RP sideblogs.
Blogs that don't have rules somewhere, unless I already know the mun.
Blogs that are only writing instant/only smut (you do you, but we are not compatible).
Only dead dove, toxic ships and similar (again, you do you, but it's not for me).
Blogs that expect rapid-fire replies all the time (see below).
HARD NOs:
Instant smut/only smut.
Infidelity/cheating plots.
Non-con, dub-con (including A/B/O) or sexual assault.
Incest.
Pregnancy threads.
Animal abuse and cruelty.
Child muses (under 13). NPCs are OK, but not children who are the main muse. Any threads with older teens will be strictly platonic.
Very selective with (basically I need to know and trust you);
‘Unrequited crush’ threads need to be talked about first, and boundaries set.
Manipulation/mind control threads.
Villain muses (case by case basis).
‘Fight’ threads where it’s Thera against someone else’s muse. Her vs random NPCs is fine.
------------
OK, if you're still here ...
Activity I can be slow. The muse is fickle lately and I'm in a different timezone to most of you. I cannot give rapid-fire multiparagraph replies every day. Short replies (up to one paragraph) I might manage sometimes, but anything longer will take time.
Verses Are separate unless otherwise agreed, or for silly shenanigans.
Interaction I give the energy I get back. This is a hobby, but it’s a hobby we should both enjoy and it’s not enjoyable when something’s all one-sided. Busy happens, favourites happen, but if I’m doing all the sending and messaging and you don’t do any, then after a while I’m going to move along.
Post length I’m good with any, as long as we’re putting in roughly equal effort. Longer threads will take longer to reply to.
Memes Please don’t reblog memes from me without sending me one. You don't have to send me something, but if you don’t please reblog them from the source.
Shipping/Smutting Not automatic or guaranteed. Thera is multiship, male-attracted, and we enjoy shipping, but it takes writing together before we decide to ship, to see if we and the muses are compatible. It also needs to be talked about OOC first, to make sure we both want the same things from the ship. Just because Thera is nice to your muse doesn't mean she's romantically interested!
Smut will only happen in the context of an established ship. If your blog is entirely meant for PWP smut writing we are not compatible.
I don't write toxic ships. I've lived one IRL and while it's not triggering for me I don't want to write it in my RP.
Triggers and Tags I tag potential triggers as '[thing] tw'. If you need anything specific tagged, let me know (if you have a tag already blacklisted, tell me and I’ll use it).
No God-Modding I write my muse, you write yours, and if in doubt, ask. Please don’t decide for me what she does, thinks, says or feels (or did before the events of the thread), that your muse has done something to her, or put her in a certain situation, without asking first.
Ignoring what I’ve just written and continuing as if Thera never said or did something counts as god-modding, too.
Meta-gaming is giving your muse OOC knowledge IC. There are muses out there powerful enough that they could know things, but please talk to me about it first.
On those last two points, I also reserve the right to say no.
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Flambae can be intense but he means well. It's why despite his temper that Golem still considers him a good friend that he'd trust to have his back. Despite being friends with Flambae, he does appreciate spending time with more calm people as well. He rarely ever worries about Thera starting a fight, unlike Flambae.
At the mention of grilled fish, Bruno emits a low hum of approval. "I like fish too. Their bones crunch like chips for me. A very satisfying texture. If you organize something let me know, I'll help set up."
Some people rage as a favourite pastime, others save it for when it's needed. Everyone expects the pyro to go off, or maybe PunchUp, and that's fine. It takes the attention off the placid wall of rock and the ordinary-looking English chick - right up until someone fucks around hard enough to find out.
For now, though, Thera just licks her lips and watches the fireworks, a new more thoughtful look in her eye. "I'm gonna text Blazer, see if we can use the carpark while most folks are away. The beach would be nice, but there's council regulations and you know what we're like with that sort of thing!"
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“I need everyone to stop encouraging The Doctor.”
------------
"In our defense, Brigadier, he's going to do that whether we encourage him or not." 'We' being herself, Benton and Yates, who were standing either side of her holding drinks and wearing expressions that hovered between 'not my fault' and 'oh damn'. Music pumped from speakers beside a dance floor, and she'd momentarily lost sight of the Time Lord in the crowd.
"If we tell him 'no' it only makes him more determined."
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
He used to be glad that Steven had a friend. It's funny, he guesses. He just wishes that Steven's friend wasn't the sort to pull him further into this shit. Into Marc's world. Or maybe the fault's squarely on Marc's shoulders, because he can't keep his head on straight, and Steven was going to end up neck-deep in it anyway. And maybe the only thing, or at least the biggest thing he resents, is that she can actually do something to help, and Marc's only making it worse. Marc's a drowning man, and he's dragging Steven down with him, so he resents Thera for being able to offer a ring.
Funny that his mind goes straight to drowning, isn't it? Maybe it's fitting. Things have a way of catching up to you, don't they? Maybe that's karma.
He wonders what she'll say when she finds out that it's nowhere near as exciting as she much think. That Steven Grant was born long before Marc signed his soul over to Khonshu. The details are his own, and they're going to stay that way, but just as Steven draws closer to the truth, she does, too. He hates that, that this woman is now all but guaranteed an explanation, however thin it may be. He'd rather she just know the shit about Khonshu, and if it were just up to him, it's all he'd tell her. But it's not just him, and that's the problem. So maybe there's less of it that's actually her fault, but there is so much that upsets him. His soul is not his own, has been promised to an ancient god, and that's not even the part that makes him feel the most out of control.
Surprisingly, though, he finds some comfort in being in the car. Four walls--in a manner of speaking, anyway--and a two ton block of steel moving at high speeds away from the outside world has a way of soothing some of the more pressing concerns.
She questions him, and he runs a hand over his face. He's tired. He's really, really tired. Everyone's concerned with how little sleep Steven's been getting, but Marc doesn't get any more. Not that he's looking for pity, but acknowledgement might be nice. "Errand boy," he answers, not said in humor as much as irritation. "I'm told I have to keep the scarab safe, and half a dozen other things, because there's a man who thinks that if he gets it, he can wake up his god, which is, from my understanding, not something we want to happen." A pause. "I think I'd know if you were on my team, so spill. Whose flag are you flying?"
Thera doesn't have the full picture. Not about Marc and Steven and exactly how or why they're both in there, how one can be a god's Avatar and the other with no idea. She doesn't have the full shape of whatever Khonshu has Marc doing, not yet, but it's far more likely she'll hear that than the other. It would really help if Marc would just tell her everything, but given that ain't happening she'll take what she can get.
Marc was right when he said this was bigger than their personal stuff between the three of them, and she's gathering 'work' information like grains of sand.
And the information he's giving her is ... not great. Awful, in fact, and the sort of thing that would make any normal, sensible person quake and flee. Thera has a second of that, a dark hollow feeling in her gut that might have wished for better news, feels almlost, just a shade, overwhelmed. But she's not a normal person, and sensible is very much up for grabs. The feeling settles, solidifies into steel under her ribs.
"OK." She's listening to him even as most of her attention is on the road, the unpredictable hysteria of Cairo's traffic, "I get Khonshu's worry. Any god that's been sealed away is usually sealed for a very good reason." They've crossed the Ring Road bridge, and her frequent glances in the rear view haven't shown any tails. Ahead the road loops south, a slightly longer drive with more time to make sure. "A man," She murmurs, eyes flicking to Marc then back to the road, "the one with brown hair?" The one she saw via the jackal's mind, and she wonders briefly if he felt the creatures die.
"My flag?" It's a fair question, given she expects him to talk, "Gaia. Earth Goddess, Mother Nature. I'm the last of what were called Her Guardians. Have been for the last 2000 years." Having dropped that bomb she takes another look at the mirrors, notes a blue car she was starting to suspect turning off and disappearing. "We're heading for Mena House Hotel, by the way. They know me pretty well."
He likes that about her, that she sees things like he does, though he doesn't express his opinions enough to get a full picture of just how much they agree on. The fact that he says much at all is a decent sign of his comfort with her, but he doesn't want to say that, either. He's always too afraid of rocking the boat, of ruining what they have. He likes what they have, and even if he might want it to be something else, he doesn't want to ruin it with that. He doesn't really imagine a world where they're on the same page about that, anyway, so it's really fine, anyway.
And she's asking him about tea, which is probably more important, and definitely something that he can actually answer, which he's glad for. He might not know much about aliens, and he doesn't give much thought to the idea of ancient aliens, but he does know about tea. He always prefers when questions posed are within his realm of comfort. What kind of tea do you want? is always better than What, exactly, do you want this to be?
"Chamomile," he says, fingers fidgeting on the table, not out of discomfort, but only out of a want for something to do with his hands. After dinner is time for chamomile, right? He doesn't need the caffeine. He's sleeping badly as it is.
"The most I organize is deciding what I'm going to eat every night." And that's about the extent of his expenses, too. He doesn't do much in the way of extravagance. "Seems convenient to me, but I'm not sure I'd ever go on it. I don't think I could do it. I don't think I'd be able to stop thinking about all that water."
It could be. It could be something that's not instead of what they have, only in addition to. The talks and the comfort and shared jokes wouldn't change, they're the bedrock anything else would be built on. There'd just be ... more. Different terrain. if not for the fact that while there's nothing wrong with Steven he's come to believe there is, and he's likely to be a bundle of worry even if she were just a normal human being ... which she isn't, by a long shot, and she has no right to inflict that on him as well as everything else.
She'd like to. But she'd also much rather have sweet, honest Steven as a friend than nervous wreck Steven trying to navigate the attentions of ... well, the equivalent of one of those aliens he reads about in the news.
And so ... "Chamomile it is!" Thera pulls a teabag out of the tin, tiny white flowers on the little tag, and sets it in one of the cups. Hers follows, tagged with green peppermint leaves because she still isn't sure if she's driving him home; no caffeine for her either, but also no soothing blend.
"I'm thinking of having a go at it," She continues, waiting for the kettle to boil, "the Channel train. Just to see what it's like and if I can do it. I'm not usually claustrophobic, but once it's in the tunnel there's no chickening out." The journey was apparently only half an hour or so, but the point still stood. "I think I'd prefer the ferry anyway. It's prettier, and I'm a sailor at heart."
She poured two cups, let the bags begin to steep. "You want a dash of cold water in yours, so it isn't so hot?"
[ @deficd from here for Khan, because the open starter is a Legacy post and will mess up trimming the reblogs ;) ]
Thera spots him at fifty yards, or whatever the distance actually is between her seat and the line of sight she's careful to keep on the door. A power yacht carving through a sea of kayaks, he seems almost displaced from the crowd as he is from humanity and time.
Some of them move aside without even seeing him, some base instinct acting like a bow-wave arriving a second before the man. Others, perhaps one or two, double-take at the passing figure, the back and shoulders that are all he affords them the chance to see, but still remain where they are.
Her gaze flicks to the bar, assessing busyness, wondering where her refill is and whether to order something for Khan - who will likely disdain the weak local brews but grudgingly drink one anyway.
He drops into the empty chair, opens with the dry, factual missive that draws a smirk and snort to her lips. "They're always fucking displeased." She replies, finishing the last of her current drink, "They probably don't ... " A pause. "Wait, 'incident report'? Did you damage some of them on the way out?"
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“Were you eavesdropping?” because he’s nosy and wants details.
------------
"What was that about magicians not revealing their tricks?" A chuckle runs under the words, because she's not a magician any more than he is, not in that sort of sense at least. Thera smirks, shrugs casually because it's a very open question regardless.
"First, define 'eavesdropping'," She pours herself a glass of water from the tap and turns, butt leaned on the counter as she drinks, "because I may simply have been close enough to innocently overhear ... and second, eavesdropping on who?"
"Sounds good," Genesis responded, nodding to Thera lightly. He gave her another passing glance as he crossed over to another set of bookshelves, pondering over the books to look busy while he passed the time.
The bard flashed her a smile before going back to his busying, if only so he didn't look like he was loitering.
She got a look. The pointed, under-brows kind of look that asked sequentially 'You're staying after hours?' then 'You're staying after hours with him - ?' Thera returned it with one of her own, a minature billboard of 'Bitch please' and 'would you like to take care of him instead?'
That last bit wasn't fair because Genesis had been nothing but pleasant, but the night-shift relief was only seeing the SOLDIER (as she had when he first arrived), and didn't want to get involved. Thera clocked out and made her way back over to him. "Alright," Her hands rubbed together, "I'm a free agent! Now, what would you like to look at?"
