𝐆 𝐀 𝐂 𝐇 𝐂 𝐔 𝐈 𝐃 ( ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ together ) ֎ a selective and private fantasy/period focused multimuse est. 6+ years ago and revamped in 2026. written by ᴇᴍᴍʏ (30, she/her). current fandoms include asoiaf, akotsk, ttgot, and poldark. many characters are written within a mixture of book/show canons, but also are heavily influenced by personal headcanons. generally unsubscribed from rpc culture. dead dove, do not eat - mature and dark themes will appear. MINORS DNI.
𝟎𝟎𝟏. as a selective, private blog, i only write with mutuals. if i don't follow you, please don't like starter calls or send in memes.
𝟎𝟎𝟐. generally speaking, i tend to unfollow blogs if they've been inactive for around two months. however, if you come back again, please feel free to reach out again if we've been mutuals in the past.
𝟎𝟎𝟑. i will be unfollowing any personal blogs who follow me, with very few exceptions.
𝟎𝟎𝟒. there will be mature themes on this blog, given the nature of many of the fandoms i write within. asoiaf features themes of death, abuse, and inc*st, so if those are things you won't be comfortable seeing references to, this isn't the blog for you.
𝟎𝟎𝟓. i am here to write and make connections with people. i am not interested in drama, callouts, vagueing, or anything akin to that. quite obviously, i do not support anything akin to hatred, prejudice, or discrimination. i will unfollow, again obviously, if i see anything like this. in any other instance, people are able to police themselves and it's everyone's own responsibility to curate their own space online. please don't make anyone's life a misery online over minor disagreements or clashes of personality. if there is a problem with me, please approach things like an adult or block me.
𝟎𝟎𝟔. i am happy to write on discord and am willing to share my details with any of my mutuals.
𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒
please click on each muse's name to view their verses
𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐈𝐀𝐅
֎ brandon stark
֎ jorjayna stark || original character
֎ lyarra stark
֎ rickon stark
֎ robb stark
֎ meera reed
֎ mychael || original character
֎ myriam || original character
𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐊
֎ aegon v targaryen aka "egg" || test muses - verses tbc.
֎ duncan the tall || test muse - verses tbc.
֎ dyanna dayne
֎ rohanne webber || test muse - verses tbc.
𝐓𝐓𝐆𝐎𝐓
֎ sylvi
𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊
֎ demelza poldark
֎ julia poldark
֎ morwenna chynoweth
dear friends, my laptop will not be ready til thursday, so until then i will be mobile. i am an adaptable woman however. i’m currently typing this on a desktop keyboard attached to my phone via a usb adaptor. the scenes going on currently are odd ones. godspeed.
dear friends, my laptop will not be ready til thursday, so until then i will be mobile. i am an adaptable woman however. i’m currently typing this on a desktop keyboard attached to my phone via a usb adaptor. the scenes going on currently are odd ones. godspeed.
bc i’m relegated to mobile and it’ll be a pain sending multiples, i send you 5 emojis and i’ll send five of my muses. you can pick who is having thoughts about them!
robb, jorjayna, lyarra, myriam, dyanna <3
secret thoughts //@gachcuid
daena & robb
"I didn't say anything because I didn't want you to worry, but I was terrified of how big it was our first time. I have no such complaints now."
visenya & jorjayna
"I know exactly how you look at my husband; you hide it poorly. The only reason I tolerate it is that I know he could never see you the way you wish he would."
daena & lyarra
"You really are a horrid old bitch sometimes. I keep trying for Robb's sake only."
jorah & myriam
"You were supposed to be what I didn't care about, and look at me now. Never leave me. Please, never leave me. I wouldn't know what to do if you did."
mariah & dyanna
"What happened at Ashford is your fault, yours and Maekar's. He's your son, your little monster, he's your responsibility."
She had a lovely smile, but his appreciation of it was quickly overshadowed by a burst of annoyance and long-buried shame. Even now, after all these years, all it took was one girl with an ear for his accent to remind him that he did not belong. Whatever "special treatment" she promised - was it worth that?
"I'm sorry to disappoint you - I'm not from the North." Not anymore. "My mother is, but I grew up here, in the Red Keep." I am the son of Daemon Targaryen, nephew to the king. It might impress her. It might make her roll her eyes. Any number of men might have told her any number of things.
But at her touch down the front of his breeches, he lost his train of thought. Perhaps he shouldn't have been startled - this was work for her, not pleasure, and he would be no more hesitant if someone placed a sword in his hand and told him to fight. Still, it unnerved him. Leaning sideways, he caught her waist in his hands and dragged her towards him so that she straddled his hips; even if she was atop him now, it put his cock out of reach of her wandering hands until he had a better sense of... anything.
She really was beautiful, and not just her smile and her pale hair. Her shift left little to the imagination; he could see the shape of his hands through it as they settled on her thighs.
Myriam eyed him suspiciously, but knew far better than to argue with a customer. Especially when it came to matters pertaining to themselves. The northern twang was subtle, but most definitely there. She wondered if he was hiding from something or someone. No matter. Men came to her to forget, not to be reminded.
Atop him, stopped from unlacing him - which struck her as odd - she grinned down at him gleefully. His hands were upon her, his eyes were roaming. He might persist in trying to appear different from other men, or at the very least not like a frequent customer, but she could see through him. She knew what he wanted. He wanted what all men - or at least most men - did.
"No, no," she chastised sweetly, her voice sounding like a song. "Most customers are not for you to be considerin', tonight," she advised, idly playing with the neckline of her shift. She would reveal nothing further until she deemed it right, but she did allow the shoulders to fall a little, baring her collarbones a bit more. "You are my priority tonight, m'lord. You ought to be decisive and tell me what you're wantin' yourself. Or even better, just take it," she giggled.
She leaned down then, her breasts brushing his bare chest through her thin fabric. "Do you think you can be decisive?"
"DAELLA!" Egg positively bellowed down the halls of Summerhall as soon as he saw his sister - albeit from quite a distance. "Daella! Listen!" he called, bidding her to stay in place as he ran towards her, cheeks stained with tears which he would deny the existence of vehemently. "Daella, my cat! The cat, Meraxes, the one aunt Jena gave me in King's Landing! She's gone, and-, and I think Aerion threw her down the well! Daella, you have to come with me to tell Father, he won't believe me all on my own!"
Dunk knew that returning Egg for a visit to Summerhall would not result in a frosty reception necessarily, but was not so stupid as to think Prince Maekar would be pleased to see him. Him, being Dunk. The prince was of course happy to have his son under his charge again for a time. But Egg had been sent away, and Dunk had been questioned within an inch of his life about where they had gone, what they had seen, who they had spoken to - the fiasco at Whitewalls notwithstanding, since the prince had known all about it already.
Finally released, Dunk needed air. It was a pleasant place, Summerhall. Why Egg had ever sought to be away from it, he couldn't understand. There were gardens, open and airy, well tended, and Dunk found himself wandering through them.
But his steps slowed as he neared a fountain, and saw an all too familiar figure sat to the side of it. When their eyes met, Dunk's chest tightened and he immediately dropped to a knee, bowing his head in deference. How had he not thought this might happen?
"Your-, your grace," Dunk choked out, daring to lift his eyes a fraction but finding it hard to look Prince Baelor in the eye properly. "I-, I meant-, I meant not to disturb you." How could he ever begin to apologise enough for what had happened to such a man, all because of a lunk like him?
It was strange, by all means, to finally be... home. Was it truly home? Did Egg have a home anymore? Home felt like being with Ser Duncan, travelling the roads and getting in and out of all kinds of scrapes. Summerhall? Summerhall felt like a distant memory.
But Ser Duncan had decided it was time to return, even for a visit. Egg was getting older, and he had not seen his father or siblings in near two years.
He had been swept to his father almost as soon as he had arrived, but now, while Prince Maekar spoke with Ser Duncan, Egg was free to roam at will. Their arrival had been without pomp and circumstance, no grand reception or gathering, so it was left to Egg to find his sisters and the only brother who remained there.
He came to a stop at Rhae's chambers, or at least what had been her chambers, and he pulled a face before knocking. "Are you there?" he asked, a little awkwardly. "It's Egg."
