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@lellarps
𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 !! this is lella, 28y, gmt-3, brazilian, activity will occasionally become spotty. selective rpi player. somewhat literate. mostly using small text format. into fantasy, high fantasy, adventure, sci fi, crime. Here you can find shortcuts to my important pages:
✗ guidelines
✗ muses
✗ open starters
✗ wanted plots
✗ sideblog (brazilian portuguese)
closed starter -> @lellarps {x}.
as the goddess carved from ice grew used to the mechanical lifestyle held by the master of the forge, she began to anticipate the little surprises better. it was a disappointing discernment to glean, she thought sullenly as they traveled, and she realized that no longer did the clicking and grinding of hephaestus and his steel make her jump. it had become background familiarity, a quiet song that haunted in her ears like the north winds or the salty sea just out of reach.
she missed the sea most, khione had decided. having grown so used to the lullaby of crashing waves against the island, life felt starkly naked without it now.
he had taken her, as promised, somewhere new and far away and terrifying. everything, since meeting him, seemed to be a combination of the three. khione was equal parts horrified and thrilled by the big cats, lush greenery that came thick like carpet and canopies over them. the moisture in the water was different, too. air had never felt thick, warm, and so clean in her lungs before this magical place.
" you need a forge cat. " the goddess mused, as much to herself as to her traveling companion. she was watching a family of giant ones, rippling with muscle and power and beauty, play several paces away. already she could picture it; a feline king stalking proudly behind it's master, bowing it's head for no one but hephaestus who could command fire itself to his whim. " all the good forges have one. " at this, her lips ticked up in a rare, icy smile.
Ever methodical, most of his field trips were born out of necessity; a way to certain means, though not lacking side quests whenever he found some different material worth investigating or collecting.
A step or two ahead of her, clearing their path, he thought about it now. And on how… lovely it was, not to walk alone. And that she seemed to find the travels somewhat pleasant, too.
"You've seen many forges, then, before commissioning mine?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder, the question holding quiet, uncommon humor and no real offense. "If I were to have one, even a small thing," he went on, almost absently, gaze drifting back toward the great cats, "it would be trouble".
A brief pause, as he pondered, making a small face.
"It would knock over my tools. Chase sparks. Set something ablaze..." his gaze returned to her, one eye fixed and another missing. "...Do you want one?"
open starter. reposted. hephaestus is working. your muse dropped by.
The forge crackled around him, sparks leaping like fireflies in the dim glow of molten metal. He was mid-swing, hammering out a piece of celestial bronze, when the sound of footsteps reached him, uninvited. Hephaestus paused, his grip tightening on the haft of his hammer. Whether it was a mortal fool or one of his godly kin, he'd hear them out. But his patience, like the fire of his forge, burned hot and quick today. "Speak," he rumbled, "and don’t waste my time."
He was no stranger to interruptions. The gods, with their endless demands for weapons, trinkets, or displays of superiority, were frequent visitors to his forge. They were rarely grateful, often entitled, and quick to claim his work as their own. Mortals, on the other hand, came with humility — or sheer audacity. He usually found them to be more tolerable. Besides, he had a grudging respect for smaller beings who dared to stand before him, though even then, he was selective. Crafting was an art. And he was usually selective about who he lent his skills to.
Raising his gaze to the intruder, Hephaestus waited. Perhaps they were staring at his one missing eye, or his right leg and arm, both made of iron? His uneven lips? How dare they… "If you’ve come here with no words, turn back now" he said, setting the hammer down with a resonant clang.
it wasn't the first, nor surely the last, that caspian would find himself disgruntled over the disinterest in his dramatic delivery of station. when he had coined the identity for himself, modeling his smallest of the thrones with moon bleached bones, he'd thought it would strike fear into the hearts of many. at the very least, he'd hoped it would be a derrent from realm-crossing visitors who appeared unwanted in his private sactuary.
the frown deepened, creasing the lines of his face under the etching of runes tattooed there. " of course you don't. i come here, when i don't feel like having subjects to rule. " he paused. " i come here to be alone. " he added, worried she'd misunderstand or simply not care enough about his theatrics to try and wrestle meaning from his words. not that she seemed to care even when the meaning was handed over on a silver platter.
" can you stop doing that? " he grumbled, watching greenery slice through his sea of white, eyes rolling as he crossed his arms and chewed inside of his cheek. how do you deal with someone who crosses worlds? how do you... send them back? it was the quip of princeling that finally spurred on his anger. " i won't undo anything. your flower allies or not, " he sneered, face scrunching. " can't grow where the ground is too frozen to do so. "
he stomped his feet, runes glowing on his face momentarily, before fading and ice crawling out from his feet. thick, rough, and shining as it spread in a semi-circle around him, almost protective. defensive, for now. " leave this place and i will allow you to do so with your head still attached. " he said it sweetly, a smile plastered across horrible features.
So eager to send her away, and yet just as eager to dress his loneliness as choice. Ah. Well. Had she not done (and kept going~~) the very same, whenever another Divine strayed too close to her lands?
Yet, however cute and sympathetic the display was, Lilah's brow furrowed beneath the threat. Her eyes flicked, briefly, over the glow of his runes.
And perhaps because her anger sometimes fluttered in her throat, bringing a funny feeling to her chest, she laughed. Bright and strange and anything but unbothered this time, the sound of it ringing like distant bells.
She stepped forward. Far enough for the creeping frost to meet her. And it bit.
This was... what a dreadful, intriguing thing. How biting against her immaculate skin. But she did not yield.
Her green answer, but not beneath the ice. It climbed her instead, tendrils of life threading over the fabric of her dress, curling upward as though seeking air that did not belong to this place.
This powerful ice had seeped through Realms, after all; should she really be surprised by its strenght?
"I suppose you wouldn't want anyone too close to inspect your ugliness" she pointed, choosing pettiness as a weapon, for she did not want to kill. Yet. "Where's your Kingdom and subjects, again? I so dearly love to make new friends"
Quite serene, quite complete, Lilah had been in her eternal self-exile. Yet eternity was a long thing, and peace— no matter how carefully tended —, was bound to be trespassed upon by the mishaps of other Realms.
Her heels sank into the snow with each step. The cold bit at her skin, but she did not recoil. Only her demeanor betrayed her displeasure —subtle, but unmistakable — as she stood amidst the foreign stillness of this ill-timed winter.
For one who bore spring in her very nature, it was no small offense. Beneath that pale, suffocating blanket, she could feel her flora, silenced, stilled, wrong.
Her gaze settled upon the man who now seemed to claim the place, and lingered there. Her eyes of a calm storm were measuring, slow and deliberate. A simple dress and an umbrella marked her form.
"In another Realm, across the Veil, my cottage stands but a few yards from here," she said at last, her voice soft, though not without edge. "You see, a most untimely winter has come — It has killed my flowers. My vegetables. And, quite frankly, ruined my mood"
A brief pause. Her eyes did not leave him.
"Would you happen to know anything about that, Sir?"
she was the singular splotch of color in a scene of silver and gray. even from where he stood in a faint, caspian could see the glow of her radiating. sun catching on brilliant bright coils, burning them like flame introduced to his serenity. " across the veil? " he scoffed with clear disbelief, eyes narrowing as he heard her tale. for a moment, his lips parted, poised to argue. to accuse her of deceit, maybe frighten her with a little bit of magic.
but common sensed whispered no. so instead, caspian's chin jutted up and out, calling the cold air to him like a cloak of comfort. " of course i do. i laid claim to this garden. yours must be close enough it absorbs my magic. hmm. shame. " each word, spoken plainly, as if the topic didn't matter. because. . . . it didn't. the garden of frost and steel was his, it was chosen with precision and careful consideration. isolated, alone, perfectly his own. something in his jaw twitched.
" i'm an unseelie prince. " he said that as if it would mean something to her, this unknown traveler who could tear and slip between worlds. the confidence she wore, he recognized it. " caspian, of the throne of bone. "
neither of them were the kind to ever accept a no for something like this. his brow quirked, the quiet challenge. his court, his kin, were notorious for the malicious deeds. if hearing he was from the unseelie side of this realm didn't shake her, then he wasn't sure what would.
Titles meant little to Lilah. Courts, princes, petty thrones built by lesser beings; all of it was dust compared to the turning of seasons.
Her eyes swept once across the barren frostland he claimed as a garden, unimpressed.
"I do not see subjects for you to rule," she replied, head tilting ever so slightly, the motion graceful and edged with mockery.
Subtle at first, beneath the snow at her feet, came the sound of something stirring. Tiny, tender green shoots slowly pierced through the white in stubborn rebellion, unfurling toward Lilah like children reaching for their mother. Spring forcing itself into winter's throat by her mere presence. Though, well, a faint vein had begun to show at Lilah's temple, pulsing.
"I, however, have allies in every patch of soil these Realms have ever known," she murmured. "And they are not fond of being suffocated".
Her knuckles pressed lightly against the curve of her umbrella's handle, a small, grounding gesture.
"So, princeling, undo it".
augusta is so shocked by the other's words that she remains at the threshold, dumbly. after a few moments, her brain kicks into gear and she steps inside the house. it was warm- much warmer than outside. at this point, she was grateful for any shelter. she wrings her hands together and looks around the cottage-- the cozy fire, the couch, the small kitchen. "alright...is there something in particular that you would like?" she tilts her head and makes her way into the kitchen, peering at what few ingredients there were. "i am called augusta. what shall i call you?"
Settling once more into his place by the hearth, Khalid did not look back at her. He cut an odd figure in the firelight: clad in a simple tunic that concealed the gleam of scales beneath, his gaze distant and faintly glassed, as if some part of him remained elsewhere entirely.
For a moment, it seemed he had no intention of answering at all — as though the question had drifted past him.
"Meat".
No further instruction followed, neither what kind, nor how he wished it prepared.
But then— he made sense of her name and looked at her. Head tilting slightly to the side, long, somewhat unruly hair tied back.
"Khal..."
open starter!! -> f/m/nb, 21+, supernatural muses encouraged
setting -> x, x
" you weren't supposed to find this place. no one has been here in half a century. no one except me. "
the disembodied voice of the youngest winter prince came from where he sat, perched upon a frosted bench just beyond a large tree. he peered around it's side at the intruder. from behind the snowy moss coverings, he revealed himself after a pause - now a stark difference in the gentle snowfall. dressed all in black, hair worn long && unruly - no one quite cared how caspian looked, not when his brothers were known for their grand stature.
in the frozen garden, dubbed by caspian himself his own secret space, the flowerbeds had long since died, leaving nothing but memories in their place. overgrown foliage coated in ice && nothing but his foot prints in the snow to disturb the peaceful place. walls with sharp, tall spires circled it, long since grown with ivy && frost, obscured from view behind crumbling bricks. the lock worn off from the hidden gate, caspian supposed this day would come eventually. someone coming into his quiet winter wonderland, someone here to take one of the only things that he'd had left to claim as his.
and there, in the center of it, the youngest unseelie fairy himself, like a king of a frozen botanical castle - though lost to the harsh, cold element of the realm. gaze hard upon them, frowning now, wondering what they would intended to do with this newfound secret place.
Quite serene, quite complete, Lilah had been in her eternal self-exile. Yet eternity was a long thing, and peace— no matter how carefully tended —, was bound to be trespassed upon by the mishaps of other Realms.
Her heels sank into the snow with each step. The cold bit at her skin, but she did not recoil. Only her demeanor betrayed her displeasure —subtle, but unmistakable — as she stood amidst the foreign stillness of this ill-timed winter.
For one who bore spring in her very nature, it was no small offense. Beneath that pale, suffocating blanket, she could feel her flora, silenced, stilled, wrong.
Her gaze settled upon the man who now seemed to claim the place, and lingered there. Her eyes of a calm storm were measuring, slow and deliberate. A simple dress and an umbrella marked her form.
"In another Realm, across the Veil, my cottage stands but a few yards from here," she said at last, her voice soft, though not without edge. "You see, a most untimely winter has come — It has killed my flowers. My vegetables. And, quite frankly, ruined my mood"
A brief pause. Her eyes did not leave him.
"Would you happen to know anything about that, Sir?"
muse: augusta quinn, late twenties-early thirties, human
verse: period/fantasy/supernatural?
open to: all
"i am terribly sorry to bother you, but it is late and my bones grow weary. might i use an extra room? i will work for food and board."
Truth be told, this was not Khalid’s house. He did not know to whom it belonged — only that it had been empty when he arrived. He wore the space as though it had always been his, though. The low beams, the quiet fire. His gaze settled on the young woman and lingered. Measuring some unknown weight.
"Make dinner" he said at last, the words low and even, as though they had already been agreed upon. And with that, he turned his back to her, stepping into the cottage and heading back to the couch near the hearth.
real love for axis, and trust me for hephaestus <3
real love for axis — what is love like to your muse? does your muse believe in the idea of real love or are they someone that has a harder time trying to define that?
Axis doesn't (always) know that — but he believes in devoting himself to a single person for a lifetime. Which could be considered love, I suppose. Even if it is one-sided, he will care for you. He values loyalty above all else, and he will place his cherished one on a pedestal, but he won't tolerate being fooled or ridiculed for his feelings.
trust me for hephaestus — how guarded is your muse when it comes to someone they're interested in? do they gradually lower their walls over time or does it all come down during one pivotal moment? what does it take for your muse to trust someone? does your muse believe they're trustworthy?
Hephaestus is very trustworthy. But his trust towards people takes a while to build. He will be wary around you, both in fear of rejection and resented by his years-long isolation. Sometimes he thinks that (almost) the whole world is out against him. It takes time and patience to actually reach him, and perhaps small acts of care, though he will be partially embarrassed.
sweethearts headcanons : a valentine's day headcanon prompt inspired by the cute little sweethearts candies. a fun little way to explore your muse(s) romantic side ! feel free to answer all or some of the questions per prompt. / specify for multis !
WOW : is your muse easily drawn to the appearance of someone to grow an immediate interest in them? if appearances aren't their big thing, what is their wow factor to grow interest?
BE TRUE : when your muse is spending time with a crush or a potential lover, are they being authentic to themselves or do they pretend to be authentic for whatever reason they may have?
CALL ME : when your muse is talking to someone they're romantically interested in, how do they tend to reach out first? if they reach out first? by phone? by text message? through dms? what was their first call/dm/text like?
BE GOOD TO ME : in your own muse's words, what kind of qualities do they look for to feel like they're being treated well by them? or, alternatively, how does your muse treat their partner to show that they're being good to them?
XOXO : is your muse more of a hugger, a kisser, or are they a mix of both? what kind of hugs do they give? what are their kisses like?
TRUST ME : how guarded is your muse when it comes to someone they're interested in? do they gradually lower their walls over time or does it all come down during one pivotal moment? what does it take for your muse to trust someone? does your muse believe they're trustworthy?
FIRST KISS : has your muse already had their first kiss? is it a memory they look fondly on or find a bit laughable in hindsight? if your muse hasn't had their first kiss, are they someone to believe in the perfect first kiss or not?
DATE ME : what kind of dates is your muse more interested in? do they like cozy, more personal dates? do they like dates that take them out of their comfort zone and go practically everywhere? do they have a perfect date in their mind?
REAL LOVE : what is love like to your muse? does your muse believe in the idea of real love or are they someone that has a harder time trying to define that?
SAY YES : how easy is it for your muse to say yes to their partner or lover? do they cave easily or do they try and resist for a bit before finally saying yes? what are some things that they say yes to?
HOLD HANDS : is your muse likely to reach out and hold hands first or do they hope that the person their interested in will hold their hand? how do they like to hold hands; waffles ( fingers interlaced ), pancakes ( palms flat ), or it doesn't matter?
YOU'RE IN MY HEART : what kind of memories or moments does your muse hold very close to them? are these moments big or are they small and subtle? why do they still hold them close to their heart?
SOUL MATE : does your muse believe in soulmates? do they also believe in the idea of platonic soulmates or do they only believe that soulmates are romantic? what does a soulmate mean to them?
EVER AFTER : does your muse believe that they deserve a "happy ending" with someone they're interested in or are they more realistic with those kind of things? what would they consider as their "ever after"? is it something like marriage or something deeper?
SENDER wipes dirt from RECEIVER'S face — reverse (mal & hephaestus <3)
Casual brushes of hands. Unspoken, lingering smiles. Mal.
Lately, Hephaestus had grown too accustomed to these liberties, appearing at the mortal's side uninvited and offering no excuse for the intrusion.
This time, a small, private smile touched the god's lips as he approached. Reaching out, he gently brushed a smudge of soil from Mal's cheek — evidence the boy had been thoroughly occupied in the garden. To be honest, Hephaestus had discovered he could lose entire hours simply watching the mortal work, admiring the focused skill of his hands in the earth.
"I would like you to meet my home," he said, the words softer than the twilight settling around them.
SENDER sits with RECEIVER so they doesn't feel alone.
Quite the impressive show in the night sky: fireworks that tore through the dark with searing, colorful light.
Hua didn't need to peek to see who had joined her on the roof. She had been hoping — waiting, really — to be found. She knew he'd come. Though it had taken quite a few moons, for she had moved from the prior village. You see, the wrong people had found her back then. And she had to take her leave. Hastily.
Plain white silk for robes. Her veiled hat resting right beside her.
"You should help me choose a courtesy name," she said finally, the words carried on the tail of a distant explosion. "I find I've outgrown the one I was given."
Tara began sobbing, again. She was quietly mortified that she did, that she couldn't keep herself stitched together, but suddenly she was coming apart. He was here. He was a fairy tale come alive, he was real, he was a whole mystery, vivid and sharp, like a thorn you cut yourself on, but he was here, and he loved her. That pathetic, mortal man had thought he loved her; she had thought he loved her; but he hadn't. He hadn't. He had only wanted to own and control.
Axis had given her up, entirely, in the hopes of seeing her free. It wasn't his fault that she detested freedom.
She made a quiet, wailing sound that she tried to quench against him. Curled her hands into fists, shoulders shaking, utterly overcome. She'd thought she didn't have anymore tears in her. And yet.
Well, she hardly needed to keep herself on her feet, for he'd do that for her.
His embrace tightened, instinctive and tern, any tears of his kept at bay; his most valuable treasure in arms. The world without her had been a wrongness he could never unlearn.
Wings stirred, before drawing close and cocooning her in warmth and devotion.
For a long moment, he did nothing else. Did not speak. Did not move.
ᝰ🚬 𝚉𝙰𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙿 .ᐟ RANDOM SOFT, COMFORTING, KIND, CARETAKING ACTION PROMPTS. CHANGE ANY PRONOUNS IF NECESSARY. SOME MATURE THEMES MAY BE PRESENT. SEND "REVERSE" TO SWITCH THE ROLES OF SENDER AND RECEIVER.
SENDER tucks RECEIVER into bed for the night.
SENDER pulls a blanket higher over RECEIVER'S shoulders.
SENDER presses a cool cloth to RECEIVER'S forehead.
SENDER brings RECEIVER a glass of water without being asked.
SENDER sits at RECEIVER'S bedside until they fall asleep.
SENDER smooths the wrinkles from RECEIVER'S sheets.
SENDER brushes RECEIVER'S hair back from their face.
SENDER warms food for RECEIVER and sets it within reach.
SENDER helps RECEIVER change into clean clothes.
SENDER bandages RECEIVER'S hands carefully.
SENDER stays awake so RECEIVER doesn't have to be alone.
SENDER offers their shoulder for RECEIVER to lean on.
SENDER rubs slow circles into RECEIVER'S back.
SENDER adjusts the pillow beneath RECEIVER'S head.
SENDER carries RECEIVER'S bag when it gets too heavy.
SENDER holds RECEIVER'S hand through the pain.
SENDER wipes dirt from RECEIVER'S face.
SENDER helps RECEIVER sit up gently.
SENDER drapes their coat over RECEIVER without comment.
SENDER reminds RECEIVER to eat.
SENDER cuts food into smaller pieces for RECEIVER.
SENDER cleans blood from RECEIVER'S skin.
SENDER steadies RECEIVER as they stand.
SENDER keeps watch while RECEIVER rests.
SENDER ties RECEIVER'S shoes for them.
SENDER holds RECEIVER when the shaking won't stop.
SENDER presses their forehead to RECEIVER'S
SENDER helps RECEIVER bathe.
SENDER changes RECEIVER'S bandages for them.
SENDER keeps RECEIVER warm through the night.
SENDER sits with RECEIVER so they doesn't feel alone.
SENDER carries RECEIVER when they can't walk anymore.
SENDER hums softly to calm RECEIVER.
SENDER shields RECEIVER from prying eyes.
SENDER braids RECEIVER'S hair to keep it out of the way.
SENDER wipes tears from RECEIVER'S cheeks.
SENDER keeps a hand on RECEIVER'S back in the crowd.
SENDER wakes RECEIVER gently.
SENDER helps RECEIVER breathe through the pain.
SENDER brings extra blankets when RECEIVER starts to shiver.
SENDER waits outside while RECEIVER gathers themselves..
SENDER holds RECEIVER until sleep finally takes them.
"With two hearts," she whispered. "I remember you, my general."
She wanted to scream: Why didn't you? - but she knew why. She didn't have it in her to truly nurse any anger. Wouldn't she have done the same, if she could help him escape the court and its machinations?
She hid her face against him, drawing a long breath of his scent.
There was a quiet understanding between them — whether in court, in war, or in matters of the heart. Axis leaned into her, his nose buried in her unruly hair. Her warmth. Her scent. All of it crashing over him at once, after so long.
Fae had gone to war for far less.
Separation from one's mate could unravel the self entirely — if it didn't extinguish the will to live first.
"I love you," he murmured, fingers threading through her hair. "I won't let you go again."
Not by his own free will.
And perhaps, not even by hers. Unless he was Ordered to.
Flushed from the heat of the bath water and the sheer triumph of eliciting that blissful sigh, Mal was pleased to note that some of that tension that Axis always seemed to hold himself with had ebbed as he lounged against the rim of the tub. Taking that as incentive to continue, he resumed his curious exploration, leaning in to kiss and mouth at the column of the other man’s throat as he stroked him faster, eagerly memorising every aching inch with his hands, feeling for what he liked best.
Letting a feather-light stroke of his thumb caress the sensitive head, having to curtail the need to get his mouth between Axis’ thighs when the tight fit in the bathtub hardly accommodated such a thing, Mal settled for licking a stripe up his neck to taste the skin there, a sudden, almost animalistic urge that he satiated without thought. Even with the pleasure wrung from his own body by those taloned hands, bringing such pleasure to someone else was its own sensual thrill, one that the mortal revelled in unabashedly.
Hum— a delicious presence and touch— Axis would purr at that warm skin caressing his hardness, hadn't it been for the low growl and grunt in the back of his own throat taking it over—
This was not something he'd easily give away: vulnerability. Openness had always come with teeth.
Yet, there he was.
A hand searching for Mal's hair, clutching it to encourage exploration— But it couldn't be, could it? He'd come undone here, like this? That hot, tasty tongue on his neck? A feral smile showed. He'd come undone while claiming those beautiful, tempting lips, certainly...
Oh, yes, just the right spot...
Axis' head lifted, golden taken over as dark pupils retracted and settled on the eager beauty. Axis, fistful of Mal's hair, guided him to his lips.
"Yes," she whispered, her eyes a rough thing, nearly a croak.
She hesitated for but another moment - and then, abruptly, she crossed the distance that separated them. Drew a shallow, hard breath; abruptly hungry to feel him under her hands, to confirm that he was telling the truth, that of the splintered lives she held in her mind, this was the real one.
She slowed her pace just as she approached, then carefully settled her head against his chest. Curled her hands between them, listening for his heartbeat.
It was a wild thing within his chest: of longing and pain and desperation. Talloned fingers, mostly recoiled, embraced her form tenderly.
"I should have come sooner" he said; what a strange thing: it sounded as if he had said it before.
Over and over.
"Do you fully... truly remember who I am...?"
