— warplanet is a mutuals only multimuse for various canon and original characters. established in 2024. do not follow if you are under 21. this blog is aggressively anti-AI. written by chuckles, 30, she/her.
this blog is affiliated with: studiodrafts, gravedanger, anoffering, warbyrds, greenelight, saintsplanet, excaliabur.
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he's so goddamn lucky. milo is just full of smiles & happiness as he listens to kida speak so sweetly of him , going on about how their lives will be wonderful now that they've settled down together. it's hard not to fall in love with the queen all over again in this moment as she looks at him in such a way , the sheets all unmade , her clothes barely hanging on to her form as she lays beside him , the moonlight adding to the romantic air of the evening. the cherry on top of it all is hearing kida say those three words he adores hearing from her every time : i love you. if he could record her saying those words , he'd surely play them on repeat just to hear her voice , even when they're only apart for a few hours. his love for her is so real , so passionate ━━ perhaps more passionate than any history subject he's ever studied in all his life. for once , the linguist feels extremely positive about what the future holds for their love , knowing that the choice he made to remain in atlantis was probably the best idea he's ever had , along with agreeing with mister whitmore to makinge the excursion in the first place.
in a show of sudden need , milo leans in & captures kida's lips in an innocent kiss. it doesn't remain innocent for very long , gently guiding her back against the pillows with slow , calculated movements. even in the bedroom , he treats every touch , every kiss as if he's taking studious notes , reminding himself what kida enjoys best , what things excite her , delight her & everything in between. with their lips still locked , he gently situates himself between her legs , one hand taking hers & lacing their fingers together. he never puts his full weight down onto her , as he knows how much his wife enjoys taking the upper hand at times. sometimes he'll take the lead & other times , she will. secretly , he likes it when she takes control more than anything else. ❝ sorry , i know we just . . . ❞ milo rasps a bit as he parts away , embarrassed by how much he's letting himself be lead by his desires. his eyes meet kida's in the dimly lit bedroom , searching for a response to his actions before she speaks. ❝ i mean , you look amazing. you always do , & ah , it's been a while since we had a whole evening to ourselves. guess i'm a little . . . starved , in a way. you're really hard to resist , kida. ❞
kida can't help the melodic giggle that bursts from her lips as milo pulls away and spouts his apologies. this man began his life here in atlantis as a shy, bespectacled explorer, too awkward and too nervous to seek out intimacy in any way. a hug or a hand-hold sufficed — @studiodrafts kept things minimal for a while, although his feelings were clearly more than than. only recently have the two partners begun their journey into their relationship... and it's fun. it's enjoyable, learning about someone new, bonding with them... making him blush as much as possible. "oh, it is so clear to me now why you remained in atlantis." teasing, kida sits up and stretches her arms over her head. her curly white hair tumbles over her back and shoulders with every tilt of her head. "you could do without the city and its ancient ways. you are here for kisses. i can see right through you, milo thatch." her grin and squinting, mischievous eyes give away her humor; she steals one last kiss from his lips before climbing out of bed and setting out for the washroom in their royal chambers. the space is large, airy, and surrounded by minimal walls (nature provides an acceptable privacy with its overgrown plants and fallen rocks, leaving the remains of the royal palace tangled with atlantean natural beauty), so her movement into the next "room" gives them the ability to continue their conversation with ease. a fallen boulder, long and reclined across the carved stone floor, conceals most of her body as she changes. "what are your plans for the day?" she asks, her back to milo. "did i hear you were teaching another lesson in flying the martags and ketaks? my... our people seem to enjoy the new vehicles. they have successfully mapped more of the caves just outside the city, and it is all thanks to your discovery." kida turns back to milo, one hand holding her bountiful hair up from her neck as she finishes getting dressed. "and you have improved. you have only crashed once."
respond to the following prompts out of character, then tag others you'd like to get to know a little bit better.
roleplayer name: chuckles
roleplayer pronouns: she/her
muse name: i have a lot
preferred communication: i prefer talking over tumblr IMs at first, but i do like the ease of dis.cord and if i know you well enough i'll give mine out. i just don't like overwhelming myself with too many convos at once, and sometimes dis.cord can feel really demanding.
experience: a friend and i made a jack frost ask blog back in december of 2012 and we didn't know what the hell we were doing, but it was fun. then another friend told me about the roleplay community, and i joined with a very basic oc. i don't really remember how i transitioned from that blog to the sherlock fandom, but soon i had a blog for sebastian moran... and i've been stuck here ever since.
preferred roleplay type: i prefer starters that come from ask memes to give me something to work with, minimal plotting at first, and gradually exploring character dynamics until a tangible connection is made. then i love to plot deeper after that. i'm more of a throw caution to the wind, see what happens roleplayer, not a "let's figure out each and every single plot point from beginning to end" roleplayer. i get frustrated easily when plotting is overloaded on the front end, because i feel like it restricts my creativity.
pet peeves & dealbreakers: all listed in my rules, but i will say that i had an ex-mutual ages ago that would make a post, it wouldn't get any likes, and they'd delete the post and repost it hours later to try and get attention. and this happened every day with every single post they made. so i was having déjà vu like... did i not see this post this morning???????? am i imagining things??
plot or memes: memes!!!!!! i like a casual approach to creating a dynamic and then building up from the comfortable foundation of a meme or two and some brief discussion. i do love in depth plots, but this is a casual hobby for me now, and i don't want to pressure myself or another person with constant attention or a demand for super thorough stories when we're busy with irl stuff. for me, it's more fun to be spontaneous and easygoing about plots.
long replies or short replies: i like both, and i do find it easier to reply to short replies waiting in my drafts, but i tend to write a lot and make replies longer than they need to be.
best time to write: i like writing at my desk at work when my workload is low. my boss is of the mindset that "as long as you get your work done, i don't care" so i get my commercials edited and written and fill the in between space with some writing. if i have my headphones in and rain noise playing, i can write whenever. i also love writing at night.
are you like your muse?: i think i try to put a little aspect of myself into every character i write to some degree!
tagged by: stole it from my archive
tagging: @warbyrds @studiodrafts @excaliabur @aratsaka @starfares @soulbarer @maurilyan @castpray @kryptonien @fabala @isrya @veilmotel and anyone else!
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◽ EXT. A BACK ALLEY IN [REDACTED]. SIMON "GHOST" RILEY: LOOK AT ME. YOU'RE GOING TO BE FINE. @warplanet
carol's slumps against the dank brick wall, littered with layers of graffiti no one has bothered to remove over the years—her head hangs heavy, eyelids falling shut as she fights the nausea caused by the penny-taste coating the cavern of her mouth.
a few laboured exhales pass through her rounded lips as she braces a hand against the wall to keep herself standing, bits of mortar coming loose beneath her flexing fingers. the other hand is sticky and warm where it presses firmly against the side wound she acquired during their less-than-smooth exfiltration. it isn't the fatal kind, but still stings like a son of a bitch, and the disproportionate blood loss poses a problem considering they're not yet out of the woods.
black and white spots flicker in her field of vision when her eyes open again and the surroundings tilt, making her lose equilibrium. simon's gruff voice, laced with worry, penetrates the temporary tinnitus as he materialises from the shadows and makes her meet his icy blue stare from beneath the skull mask with a gloved hand holding up her chin.
“ i know. this isn't even near my top ten injuries. ” a groan as carol pulls herself upright, her breath coming in short bursts. the cheek is her skull mask, a crutch to lean on in her attempts to regain a sense of control in a moment of weakness. she doesn't know what to do with his misplaced concern, doesn't deserve it. “ i'm all good, so let's just focus on getting to the safe house, alright? shouldn't be far now. ”
this has been a bad exfil littered with bruises and blood — a difficult mission, a rough exit, and too much damage. too much mortar and dust. the safe house waits for them a mile away; they're not out of the woods yet, but at least they've cleared the enemy lines and evaded detection in this area of the town. there aren't any civilians this way (most have cleared since the village was taken over, and those that remain stick to the outskirts to maintain control of their farms), so they should be all right with the walk back... if @warbyrds can keep herself together. "you'll be fine," comes simon's gruff tone, solid, but peppered with some concern. it's not like him to feel this way. "let's get you out of here. get an arm up on my shoulder, danvers. let's move."
he doesn't ask if it hurts; he just takes her arm and shoves it over the kevlar and thick fabric of his outermost jacket. shuffling them out of the alley, simon's haunting mask peers down corners, scouring, listening. a gun in one hand, carol braced in the other. if she loses her footing, he just keeps dragging, keeps forcing her with him. they can't stop and rest and let her bleed on these streets — they've gotta get to the safe house so he can patch her up in relative peace. there's no time to linger and catch their breaths. "they could be following us," he tells her, "so we can't just stop and smell the fucking flowers, danvers, let's go! on your feet!" his harsh tone is borne of fear, a frantic sense that she may pass out before they reach safety. "eyes open! don't stop! i've got you!" she's not going down here. not like this.
if corde has learnt anything, as they've raced across the galaxy, is that home is not a place. they've called many planets home since the fall of the jedi. some for days, some for years, and yet when the time came to move on from them she was never upset. never missed the rising suns, or the glow of the moons, or the hustle of the markets, or buzz of the harvest. the only home she's ever need is the woman beside her. corde nuzzles closer to her love, her nose brushing the skin between arra's jaw and ear. lips leaving an ever tender kiss. ❝ i like them too. ❞ her words are a whisper, brushing gently against arra's skin. ❝ they took care of you. they earned my admiration a long time ago. ❞ long before they were free to touch. when love was nothing but an ideal to be rejected, not a real, fathomable feeling that fills her heart. ❝ i think i should like to grow old with you here. ❞
"that's what we're going to do, corde." she leans against her lover, her former fellow jedi, and lets her eyes trail the interior of their temporary shelter. huge trees on maridun drop large seed pods, and the lurmen have learned to use them as shelter — dragging them miles and miles back to their villages, carving out the insides, utilizing them for shelter, for food, for crafting supplies. when arra and corde finish building their own structure (constructed from multiple seed pods, giving the two human-sized women much more space to move around in), it will be the safest place @saintspoetic and arra have ever known. until then, they use this spare one to sleep, enjoying the quiet, the sounds of the lurmen outside finishing their daily chores and going to sleep. "you were hesitant at first," she reminds her lover. "but i appreciate the ways you've come around. we're going to grow old here, in peace, and avoid further conflict. they will not find us here." there's a knock on the door of their hut, and arra sits up. "i think wag too has brought us some after-dinner snacks. let me get them. you stay here." she squeezes corde's fingers. "you look beautiful in bed."
curious thing, wasn't she? staring from the shadows. maleficent became aware of her not too long ago, listening to the water shape the other through its falling flow. she smiled, to herself, wondering if she should have fun with it or merely burn the flesh to ashes with hellfire. well, well, well. this wasn't maleficent's realm and she was not anything if not just in terms of knowing when to bow and respect another ruler, whoever the person or entity might be down below here. wolfishly, she grinned, and turned with the sweetest voice she could act upon: ❝ come to the light, i won't harm you, and you certainly won't harm me. ❞ maleficent's pale hand rose in invitation, as she graciously sat on the floor and observed. what difference was there between stone, water and the moss and sand of her land? almost none. the moors always were welcoming, this land she hoped was too.
kida hesitates. the woman's voice does not match her appearance — the tone is soft, coaxing, but her presence is dangerous and strong. it feels like a trap, which is why her hand grips her spear even tighter as she eases out from behind the waterfall and onto the stones in the lake. soaked but sturdy, the princess keeps her distance, weapon bared, and watches @maleuficent as closely as she can. no sudden movements, no signs of aggression... just a display of hardiness that might discourage a potential attack. "who are you?" she chooses english like the stranger does, eyes narrowed, focus sharp. behind her, the waterfall continues to roar, the spray coating her exposed skin. "are you alone? why have you come here?" upon closer inspection, kida recognizes the woman is beautiful, eerie, and... poses no physical threat. she's sitting in the grass. she looks unaffected, aloof, her soft expression something kida is both intrigued and confused by. "what is your name?"
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❛❛ I — Son of a bitch, ❜❜ muttered under her breath, she can still feel the anxiety crawling up her body like a serpent, brows knit as her heart pounds like a klaxon against her ribs. It feels as if her skin has been ripped off the very bone, every nerve exposed and bare for all to see. It's a terrible thing, to suddenly be thrust into the spotlight; to not know how to walk, how to talk, without anyone to guide you. ❛❛ It's nothing, I guess, it's just ... St. Cyr. ❜❜
Another deep, gasping breath, as if she were trying to learn how to breathe once again. After a moment, her eyes squeeze shut, fists balling at her sides as she digs her feet into the ground, trying to recentre herself once more. ❛❛ He tried goading a fight out of my brother again, and before i could do anything, it all went to hell, and I just — [a beat passes, and she has to draw in another breath.] I just don't know what to do. ❜❜
bruce doesn't fully grasp the situation as @vivrez gasps through her words, but he'll clarify later — later, when marguerite is better, calmer, less-panicked by the incident. if he has to do some digging later, investigate in the cape and cowl, he will; for now, bruce is the caring friend, the supportive ally. his hands go to her shoulders (she's shaking, and he aims to steady her). "breathe. it's okay. is your brother all right?" they're still on her doorstep, so bruce reaches for the door behind her and pushes it open with his arm. "inside. let's get you in and... is that your blood?" suddenly aware of the copper scent and the sight of deep red, bruce hastens to check. he's polite about his investigation, of course, but still scrambling for her sake. "this is so like you." it's an airy tease meant to make her smile. "what would you do without me?"
the pianist let's bruce take the lead & guide him into another room , a little amused by how insistent he is as he keeps a watchful eye of his ex as he works. bruce has always been protective of him , but never to this degree. it's a side of him mason hasn't been privy to before & while he does worry what this is doing to his lover , there is a sort of rush of excitement that comes from knowing just what he means to the billionaire. that was never in doubt before of course , but seeing it in action is always nice to see. mason laughs lightly at bruce's comment about brad , now taking a moment to look over at him himself , his abusive ex busy with work as he passes out drinks to those more successful than he. mason has known brad long enough to know how much this event must be hurting his ego. either he's really down on hard times , or he's trying to get closer to mason. or maybe a secret third option , one mason hasn't figured out quite yet , but no way brad is clever enough to do that. ❝ he is stupid , but i am biased. ❞ he takes a sip of his glass , all while letting his hand rub up & down bruce's arm as a show of support & comfort. ❝ you know , i'm not faulting you for this surprise. he has no fucking power here & he knows it ━━ serving all these rich people must be really killing him inside. ❞ mason can't help but smile as he says it , his hand now traveling to bruce's chest , using it for support as he leans in closer. ❝ though it probably kills him to know that he's lost me forever , & that i'm with you. ❞ mason winks. ❝ i know you're worried seeing him here , but i am not bothered at all. i'm in a much better place in my life now & much happier. he won't get to me . . . i won't let him. ❞
"i mean, he dated you, so he's stupid with very good taste in men." bruce welcomes the reassuring rub to his arm, smile faintly flickering over his face as he continues to eye the intrusive figure nearby. brad is like a canker sore, sticking out, his presence causing discomfort and making normal life difficult. it seems @studiodrafts is handling it well, but bruce knows all too well how these things go. crossing wires like this can go badly fast; all it takes is one comment, one gesture, one frown-filled disagreement between exes... and the whole night could end in a flurry of spewed hatred or whispered, foul language. they need to stay alert, keep an eye on his movements, and avoid him like the plague he is. for mason's sake... as well as for bruce's. "you're handling this better than i thought you would," the billionaire admits gently. "and i don't mean that like i expected you to start crying or panicking or anything... you're just a softer soul with a lot of heart and so many feelings. which is a good thing, by the way." bruce finishes off his glass of champagne and hands it to a passing waiter with a murmured thanks. "i love that about you. but knowing what he did to you, and all the lengths he went through to cause you pain? it's admirable that you're so steady tonight." someone that bruce knows walks past, and, to be polite, bruce interrupts his own string of thought to greet them, introduce mason, and let them pass with exchanged pleasantries. he's doing his best to hide the on-edge feeling heavy in his chest. "you make me proud," bruce goes on, kissing mason's forehead. "let's move to this next room and see what's going on in here. see if we can't avoid him the entire party. i don't want to cause a scene and embarrass you. i'm fine embarrassing him, not you." he smiles faintly. "i could try tripping him."
an eyebrow raises. not so fit for the calibrations, huh? it almost sounds like a dare to barbara. one she's happy to accept. gaze flickers upwards as the elevator descends. a flush, almost as deep as her hair, spreads upwards from the base of her neck. god, she wonders if garrus knows that effect his words have. the fluttering of her stomach and the beating of her heart. eyes search his features, analysing every line, as she can't help but also wonder what effect her words have on him. something similar, she hopes. ❝ i bet you say that to all the girls. ❞ she teases, wheels following his steps towards the battery room. how many times had she longed to appear here but had no excuse? just to see you sounded a little lame. too . . vulnerable. behind them the door closes with a whoosh, leaving them alone, and everything suddenly feels heightened. barbara's hyperaware of every move garrus makes. his presence calling out to her like an iron to a magnet. ❝ pretty impressive. ❞ her back remains to the door, face towards the main battery, allowing for him to join beside her. ❝ and i'm not just talking about the battery. ❞ she swears there's sparks, an actually current running between them, when her fingertips brush his. ❝ so, how about that tour. ❞
he's never considered a cross-species liaison of this magnitude. sure, he's wondered after humankind and their interest in turians; maybe he's researched a bit, pulled up a vid or two in his spare time (but who hasn't?). this feels different than a panel in fornax, however — this isn't as surface-level as those encounters, and those displays of... physical affection... don't go into detail about friendships and alliances. they don't come close to what he has with @ioracle. so what should he do differently here? as he walks through the battery doors, he watches barbara study the room before her. he sees her curiosity; he witnesses her fascination with the thanix cannons, the complex tech he uses... or that's all a ploy, and her true interest lies in the turian she talks to. whatever the case may be, garrus has to think smartly here. for her sake, as well as for his.
"not sure how to go about this." their drastic height difference makes things a little complicated — garrus doesn't want to try leaning down for a human-like kiss and accidentally tumbling over. "do you... want to sit over here?" he gestures to the long metal bench in the battery. "last thing i want to do is make you uncomfortable," he adds hastily, and the glow in his blue eyes shows his concern, his care. he wants barbara to feel safe here with him. "need help?"
with @prophetyse, hypatia and sabina.
— you don't ever have to worry about making me uncomfortable. nervous, yes... but never uncomfortable.
"i hope i don't make you nervous." hypatia sits with sabina in the tall skyhold tower, her back pressed against the shelves of books in dorian's favorite place. he's not here, so the inquisitor and sabina ofellia take over the space for their conversation. hypatia hugs her knees to her chest, head tilting, watching sabina mull over the tevinter texts and other tomes dorian has collected. "i mean. if you mean to do us any harm while you're here, then yes, be nervous, but if you're simply here to escape the imperium and help us fight corypheus... there's no reason to worry. i need allies more than i need enemies. i have enough of them already." she pauses to fix a book at her back, its spine poking into her shoulderblade at an awkward angle. once she's plucked it from the shelf and added it to one of dorian's book stacks, she speaks again. "though... to be honest with you, if you're fleeing from venatori, they're here, as well. some have infiltrated ferelden and orlais and align themselves with corypheus. doing his bidding. along with the red templars, they've caused us a lot of problems." she smiles lightly. "any ideas how to fight them? you must be an expert at this point."
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wound tending is everything. unparalleled intimacy. let me care for you. let me touch the skin around your open flesh. let me stain my hands with your blood. let me get close and breathe in the same air as you and stare into your eyes for a few seconds too long. let me make you think of me every time you see the bandage, or scar