Independent Fandomless Multimuse || Selective and Mutuals Only || Multiverse & Multiship || 18+ Only, blog can and will contain triggering and explicit material || Written by Taro
please like this post if you would like to, at any time, interact. this means i am NOT bothering you when i: send asks, tag you in memes or other posts, type up starters, message you at like 3am to yap about our muses and vanish immediately like a thief in the night, like comment & subscribe!, etc. you get me. i'm as shy as anyone else here, even with people i've known for literal years. the reminder is helpful is all!
⸻⸻independent original character multimuse roleplay blog, with primary focus on the unhinged ̷L̷̷O̷̷U̷̷X̷ ̷G̷̷A̷̷R̷̷O̷, the sunfire fox - but there is a little something for everyone here ☼ built heavily on both original, ever-expanding lore & pop-culture fantasy ☾ selective, mutuals & 20+ only, MDNI ☼ multiship, multiverse, flexible overall ☾ will always contain triggering subject matter & general n/sft content including but not limited to: death, murder, drug use, heavy smut, various traumas, etc. ☼ eight deaths at a funeral held by taro ☾ re-revamped 2.26⸻
headcanon generator - pick as many or as few as you want, tick those that apply, cross those that don't. feel free to add details
Renly is a sleepwalker -> Yep!
oh yes, big time. it's just hard to tell if he's actually sleeping though. his eyes are very strange, multifaceted, and usually half-open when he's sleepwalking, wandering around beyond the edges of his dreams.
Renly nearly drowned in a river as a child. -> Nope! Buuut...
he did almost drown in his pod! there was a silly little malfunction, a power outage, a short... he got many explanations, but none of them were right. he knew the truth, uttered behind closed doors between those careless enough to spill it. it was a test, for him specifically, to see if he'd survive it. he did. who wants to take bets on what this did for his brain and body both?
Renly enjoys doing taxes. -> Yep!
there is something very soothing to him about filling out boring forms and flipping through sheets of paper. something...mm, normal?
Renly is a horrible liar. -> Nope! Buuut...
the man is not and will never be a horrible liar, but he's not a good truther either. the line between either one is blurred significantly, especially for him. he's very given to rabbit holes. he will send you down one.
Renly has an incredible long-term memory but an awful short-term memory. -> Nope!
BOTH are awful! :D
tagged by: @sangsorrow ty!
tagging: @nihiliszm / @bvlvnhan / @nihilomania / @kyukicho / @dwindlingambition / @malafxde / @pvremichigan / and anyone else that would like!
Ageha almost drank the lethal dosage of caffine once. -> Yep!
it was when energy drinks were first becoming popularized. she really liked the tab brand, so much so that she'd gotten herself a few cases and drank it like she does her favorite white wines. it didn't have the same effect on her as it did others, but it most certainly didn't make her feel good lol, given that nightfolk aren't much affected by human versions of things.
If Ageha was presented with an intergalactic portal, they would enter it without question. -> Yep!
she will do it anyway. she has been doing it for thousands of years. she will do it as long as she must. a random intergalactic portal is, in a sense, her salvation - at least, from her daughter.
Ageha is a top. -> Nope!
girly is a bottom through and through, but she is also the devil where it comes down to seduction itself. she will drive you insane on purpose, so that whatever you do to her carries weight and is felt for days, weeks, whatever. make no mistake, her smiles and good manners do well to hide her corruption, but ohhh is she a demon.
Ageha likes being alone. -> Nope!
absolutely not. but it's a necessary evil a lot of the time, and she is willing to be. the reason she's so distant in her relationships, as far as...seeming detached, is because she needs to be. she is being hunted down by her daughter (who is rightfully angry with her for abandoning her; she had many reasons but still), and her daughter gives zero fucks about anyone in her way. verse has proven she is very happy to kill everyone ageha comes into contact with...hence, ageha's jumping through an intergalactic portal.
Ageha has chronic nightmares. -> Nope! Buuut...
she doesn't suffer from nightmares because she has 0 need for sleep. however, in the off chance she does take herself a little dragon nap, it's not ever really peaceful.
Gabriella forgot how to breathe for a second. The room had been quiet before he said it, filled only with the low hum of the city beyond the window and the soft shifting of Lemon’s wings from where he had tucked himself into the blanket pile. She had been standing close to Loux, close enough to feel the heat coming off him, close enough to see the raw honesty in his eyes before the words ever reached her. It should have been too much. Once, it would have been. Once, the witch would have panicked at the weight of being loved that deeply, would have heard those words and mistaken them for a cage. Everything was a frightening thing to be. Everything could be lost. Everything could be ruined. Everything could be blamed when the world went wrong.
But Loux did not say it like a burden. He said it like a truth. Her lips parted, but nothing came out at first. Her throat tightened, and she looked down because looking at him directly felt like staring into something too bright. Her hands curled against the front of her dress, fingers twisting lightly in the fabric as she tried to find herself under the rush of feeling. “Loux…” she whispered, and even his name sounded too soft for what was happening inside her. Her eyes burned. Gods, she hated how easily he could do this to her. He could say the filthiest, most ridiculous thing in the world and make her roll her eyes, but then he would look at her like that, voice stripped bare, and suddenly she was a girl with her heart in her hands, terrified and wanting and loved beyond reason.
Gabriella stepped closer. Slowly, carefully, she lifted both hands to his face. Her palms found his cheeks, her thumbs brushing along his skin with the same tenderness she always reserved for the places he seemed least willing to forgive. She made him look at her, even though her own gaze shimmered with unshed tears. “You cannot say things like that and expect me to stay standing,” she murmured, a trembling laugh slipping through the words. Her smile was small, fragile, but real. “I spent so long thinking I would never be anyone’s first choice,” she admitted. “Let alone their everything.” The confession settled between them, quiet and old. There was no bitterness in it now, only the ghost of something she had survived. Her thumb moved softly along his cheek, grounding herself in the warmth of him, in the fact that he was here and real and looking at her like nothing else mattered.
“I used to think love like this was something other people got,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “People who were easier. Cleaner. Less haunted.” Her eyes flickered faintly with green in the low light. “Not witches with cursed blood and too many ghosts. Not girls who learned how to smile so no one would ask why it hurt.” She swallowed, then leaned forward until her forehead rested against his. “But you looked at me anyway,” she breathed. “You saw all of it. The soft parts, the awful parts, the parts I still do not know what to call. And somehow you decided I was worth keeping.”
Her hands slipped down from his face to his chest, resting over the steady beat beneath her palms. Her fingers curled there, not clutching, just holding. “You are everything to me too,” she said at last. The words came out quiet, but there was no hesitation in them. “Not because I need you to be my whole world. I do not want to put that on you.” Her mouth curved with aching tenderness. “But because everywhere I look now, you are there. In the way my apartment feels warmer when you are in it. In the way Lemon squeaks for you like you hung the moon. In the way I catch myself making room for you without thinking.”
She laughed softly, brushing one hand into his hair. “You are in my mornings. My spells. My songs. My kitchen. My bed. My stupid little plans for the future I used to be too scared to make.” Her voice trembled on the last word, but she did not look away. “And I want you there,” she whispered. “I want you in all of it.” Gabriella rose onto her toes and kissed him, gentle at first, then fuller, letting all the things she could not say press into him through the warmth of her mouth. When she pulled back, she lingered close, breath mingling with his.
“You are my favorite place to come back to,” she murmured. “My chaos. My comfort. My fox.” Her smile turned shy, though her hands stayed steady against him. “So if I am everything to you,” the witch said softly, “then let me love you like you are everything to me too.”
he has a bigger walk-in closet than any billionaire. ask him about it, he'll prove it;
he keeps an odd assortment of cash in all of his outfits. mostly for emergencies and tight situations;
he will really only wear silk, cotton, chiffon, tulle, light to medium-weight fabrics. he's not given to necessarily softness, but comfort and general freedom of movement instead. things that hang or flow off of him, with some bits of tightness underneath here and there;
absolutely layers his clothes and accessorizes;
everything he wears is some flavor of eccentric. all the patterns, strange outfits you'd only see in a magazine or themed photo shoot, with a lot of heavy inspiration taken from his heritage to honor his family;
will and does wear animal pelts, particularly his father's;
he does not wear underwear, sorry, too constricting and he has a big dick;
he would literally make an attempt on his own life before he ever, ever wore jeans;
he likes it when his partners try on his outfits or lounge around in his shirts and robes. their smell sticks, and it's another one of those things that makes him feel a little safer when he's out and about getting himself into the kind of trouble he can't get back out of;
all of his clothes smell like campfire smoke;
he kept a lot of silvere's old clothes. he doesn't wear them, simply can't fit into any of them, but he keeps them anyway. he misses the old man;
just like he obsessively bathes twice a day (which i've learned is in part because of faith), he washes his clothes two to three times a week, so they are always clean. :)
"Oh." Well, now he's getting a bit more flustered for misunderstanding, but he tries to look as unflappable as possible. "It's fine. You don't have to be... fair on this sort of topic."
Poor Satra might need to come to terms with the fact he may not, in fact, have a nice butt. Woe to the poor creature, shoulders slumping, tail falling limp behind him. Such drama. He just couldn't win (or follow any coherent line of logic, it seemed). Stewing, he palmed at his cheeks, pouting like an embarrassed kitten.
"Isn't it rude not to?" he himself was still new to being a person. But, then, more pressing and without a filter, "Do I not have a nice butt?"
