hello vonnie
RMH
Sade Olutola
Show & Tell
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
NASA
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
ojovivo
🪼
occasionally subtle
Discoholic 🪩
oozey mess
todays bird
One Nice Bug Per Day
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Not today Justin
DEAR READER
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noise dept.
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seen from United States
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seen from China
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seen from Malaysia
seen from Japan
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@incidentallyi-chaya
//Okay, I want to apologise to everyone for the unplanned break that has transpired so far
I did not mean to be gone for so long, but school is successfully kicking my butt
I promise I'll try to log on more frequently, as I really miss roleplaying with you all
The Days Are Just Packed [closed rp, incidentallyi-chaya, calvin and hobbes!au]
"I could make my own Spockball team," added the little Vulcan, the Vulcan equivalent of a maniacal grin on his face (which consisted of not an actual maniacal grin, but a definitely wicked glint in his eyes). "And we could all run circles around you. It will be fascinating."
I'Chaya swatted at Spock, lightly tapping him with an outstretched paw. "Do that and we shall conduct experiments on whether you all share similar responses to pain."
He cocked his head in consideration. "Your own team of "Spockball" might be reasonable, however."
The Days Are Just Packed [closed rp, incidentallyi-chaya, calvin and hobbes!au]
Spock brightened up. “I already have procured the box necessary for the creation of the Duplicator. By creating a duplicate of myself, I will thereby increase my efficiency by at least fifty percent, if not a hundred.”
I'Chaya's tail twitched in agitation. He sat back on his hind legs and eyed Spock uneasily. "It is hard enough to deal with you alone. Having more of you would be akin to chewing two of my paws off and asking you to ride atop my back."
touch-telepath:
Yeah sorry for the feels have happy baby spock
[DYING PTERODACTYL NOISES]
//Seriously though if any of you ever want really sad, angsty headcanons, I'm your girl
Unless it involves Chekov.
Any head canon I have involving Chekov usually ends up with the entire Chekov clan commandeering a spaceship, naming it Mother Russia, and flying off into the distance
live-long-and-bite-me said: ((WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY FEELS THEN))
Inviting them over for tea before dumping the hot water in their laps and shoving tea leaves down their shirt
The Days Are Just Packed [closed rp, incidentallyi-chaya, calvin and hobbes!au]
"You call throwing sandballs at me ‘steering me out of trouble’? Or cheating at Spockball, for that matter?" Spock huffed, clambering to his feet and dusting off his robes. "And I’d only give you the tuna over my dead — oi!" Leave it to I-Chaya to get distracted by his own tail. Good for nothing old fuzzball.
"If you help me with my Duplicator, then you can get your stupid tuna sandwich," he said loudly.
"My plot was successful," I'Chaya purred, ceasing his assault against is tail. "Spockball doesn't make sense, so I don't see how I could possibly cheat. Besides, I find it impressive that I can build sandballs. You should appreciate me more."
"Now how do we build this duplicator?"
live-long-and-bite-me replied to your post: Headcanon: I’Chaya knows that Amanda is dead ...
((…YOU ARE SATAN. GET THE SALT YOU ARE SATAN OH MY GOD))
I AM NOT
I DON'T EVEN HAVE THE SWISHY FUN TAIL WHICH IS SO UNFAIR BECAUSE I REALLY WANT THAT TAIL DAMMIT
Headcanon:
I'Chaya knows that Amanda is dead
Amanda probably used I'Chaya as a pillow, and she would reach her arm back and scratch his neck as she read, even though bending her arm that way was uncomfortable
She used to talk about Earth to him, and how Vulcan was so different, and though he couldn't understand, he could trace the vaguest pattern of her thoughts through his own sensitivity to thoughts and her bond with Sarek
Amanda and I'Chaya would rest and play while Sarek and Spock were busy, and she'd do her own work while scratching behind his ears as they sat at her desk, even though 'Chaya wasn't supposed to be inside
When Amanda died, I'Chaya lost one of his best friends
The Days Are Just Packed [closed rp, incidentallyi-chaya, calvin and hobbes!au]
"Ow!" shouted Spock as he was tackled and licked at by I-Chaya, kicking and pummelling with his little seven-year-old fists to no avail. "Geroff me, you fat old hairball! I do not have tuna with me, and even if I do I would not give it to you."
He did feel guilty about leaving I-Chaya at home, but if he took him to school the bully Stonn would just try to steal ‘Chaya from him to provoke an emotional reaction. At school, Spock usually carried himself acceptably and logically; I-Chaya was one of the only people (well, sehlat) allowed to see his human side.
"I was late because I got on the last bus from the school," replied Spock at the first opportunity of a lull. "And you know why I cannot take you with me. They say it is illogical and human for a Vulcan like myself to bring toys to school, even though you and I know very well that you are alive."
"Of course I'm alive," I'Chaya sniffed. "If I did not have such vitality you would miss my fangs nipping at your heels to steer you out of trouble. You are always in trouble, so I am always there. That is my logic."
"Still, if you were allowed to bring me along you would not need to take the bus. We could travel anywhere, even that strange space-land you talk about." I'Chaya removed himself and stretched languidly across the floor.
He peeked out of one eye at the Pointed-ears cub. "You would give me your tuna if you knew what was good for you. I am a fierce warrior Sehlat, proud and mighty. I am the bane of all-" He was cut off by the distraction of seeing the sun glint off his own tail. He swatted at it, forgetting that he was holding a conversation completely.
live-long-and-bite-me said: ((/dies laughing))
tersayek said: //I may have giggled.
//How dare you laugh at I'Chaya's pain
-snorts and hunches over in laughter-
Who am I kidding this is the best thing ever
yourlogicisfascinating said:"I’chaya…?"
"I will admit to being myself if we promise to never mention or remember this moment at any time afterwards," I'Chaya responded, attempting to sound dignified as he struggled to figure out how to stand up.
The Days Are Just Packed [closed rp, incidentallyi-chaya, calvin and hobbes!au]
It was so illogical to be scared of your own front door, but when you have a homicidal psycho Forge sehlat lying in wait and ready to pounce you right behind it as you try to open the door, you tend to err on the side of caution. Like occasionally fashion dummies of yourself for said homicidal psycho Forge sehlat to tackle instead of yourself.
Spock today was feeling that same sort of apprehension as he approached the door to his house. He was tired and hot from trekking up that long and annoying desert path from the bus stop, but he knew he would get no immediate reprieve if I-Chaya decided to try and test his reflexes at the door. Despite being old and fat (I-Chaya had belonged to Dad, surprisingly enough, because a sehlat as awesome as I-Chaya could never have belonged to such an old stickler like Dad), that sehlat sure had some spring left in him.
With a sigh, the young Vulcan reached out and pressed the buzzer to be let into his house, preparing himself for the worst
I'Chaya had been rolling some sort of metal component on the floor disparately in boredom for several minutes now. Spock was usually at home by that time, I'Chaya was sure. Well, probably. He was definitely there before I'Chaya laid down for his third nap each day, yet today he was absent whilst the Sehlat pondered settling into a fourth nap.
However, the buzz of the entrance soon ceased such thoughts. I'Chaya sprung up, ready to bowl his cub over at a moment's notice. He would make Spock pay for causing him such abject misery in the form of dull, empty stretches of time.
I'Chaya raced to the front of the abode, claws scrabbling at the smooth floors. The shock of dark hair that marked his target stood out against the walls. His prey had no chance of escaping. I'Chaya puffed his fur out, his tail standing straight up to show his aggressive intentions,and with no further ado he leapt up...
And began to lick back Spock's hair from his forehead, allowing the rough barbs of his tongue to irritate the cub. He rested his front paws heavily on him, resting just enough weight on his lean frame so as to unbalance him.
"That's what you get for being so late," I'Chaya reproved. "I had absolutely nothing to do."
M!A: You are now a human for 24 hours
"Why would you-"
-Poof-
"My balance is off and I feel bones where there should not be bones."
"This is going to be a tiresome wake cycle."
Confessions of a mediocre RP blog...
1. I have favorites. I try not to - and I do truly give every new thread a chance. But favorites happen, because some people write in a way that just thrills me in particular. I will try not to focus too much on my favorites, knowing that each new person I roleplay with just may turn out to be a favorite as well.
2. Some days I struggle to write replies. When I do, when I skip over your thread to reply to another, it’s not something you have done wrong. My muse is not responding to yours at the moment, possibly for reasons neither of us have any control over.
3. There is no correlation between a lengthy reply and a good one. If you can only type out two paragraphs and I’ve written five, you didn’t fail, and vice versa. Writing flows best when you free yourself from the expectations of verbiage, structure, number of words on the page.
4. I do this for fun. If I’m not having fun with our thread, I have a responsibility to tell you so, to try and fix it so that it’s fun for us both. Conversely, you have a responsibility to do the same. We both have the responsibility of ending things on a pleasant basis if our muses are incompatible.
5. There are days when I doubt my writing. I think we all have these days. Days when every sentence comes out awkwardly and half-thought, when nothing seems to flow. Please, don’t be afraid to ask me to change a reply if I’ve sidelined the plot with my meandering muse logic.
6. You will never upset me by talking to me out of character. I’m fully cognizant that behind each muse is a real person, and I would love to get to know that person.
7. I have a ‘style’, a set way that I best enjoy writing. If you’re a brilliant muse and I enjoy your writing, I may stalk you relentlessly without ever replying to a starter you’ve done just because our styles do not match. This doesn’t mean that either of us is less of a roleplayer because of it - we’re just different.
8. I will not belittle your character ooc.Each muse is unique, each muse is a precious creation of a creative mind, an entity of its own. I promise to respect that, and only critique when asked and then only for the purposes of helping your writing. I will never send you anon hate.
9. I want you to plot with me.I want our muses to have a story so complex, so incredible, that everyone reads along. I don’t want either of us to know how it will end before it begins. I want to sit on the edge of my seat, waiting for your reply, just to shake my head in awe of the brilliant turn or twist you’ve come up with.
10. Mun to mun - you are beautiful to me.When you’re having a bad day, come to my inbox. When you’re doubting yourself, tell me about it and I will remind you how amazing you are. When I’ve angered or disappointed you in character or out, tell me about it. First and foremost, we are writers, and I consider us friends if we write together. You’re not imposing on me - you’re allowing me to help.
Send my character a nightmare and I will tell you if it breaks them.
//I'm a butt that keeps neglecting this blog so I should pr'olly convince Lily to spam my personal with stuff like
"Sehlats die without attention"
or
"Your dormancy is growing to Vulcanic proportions"
