*

𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.

[reienne]

* GOODNIGHT, LAIKA ... private and selective original character. established june 2011, remade november 2025. low activity, plot-oriented, 21+. written by ari ( 25+, any pronouns ).

expect low, fluctuating levels of activity. this is a pretty casual place all things considered, just somewhere for me to occasionally write, decompress, and brain dump about my oc whenever i have the energy and focus. i'm very slow. patience is appreciated. likewise, please don't feel pressured to respond to me in a timely manner ic or ooc. there's enough going on in the world without needing to stress about that.

basic rp etiquette and dni criteria applies. this blog operates on a no-tolerance policy and any kind of discriminatory rhetoric will earn you a block.

if you aren’t interested in writing or interacting, please softblock / hardblock me.

plots are where it’s at baby. 💃 to be honest, i'm rather shy and have a small social battery ... so the more comfortable i am with you and your character(s), the easier it will be for us to interact with one another ! what i look for in partners is mutual effort and enthusiasm. to me, collaboration is the most important part of this hobby.

while aylen is from an original canon, i will not be posting any of it publicly. instead, the majority of what is featured on this blog is an exploration of them in a variety of verses. because of this, i will only be providing a snapshot introduction to the basics of their character ( see below ).

i have an ungodly number of verses stashed away for aylen, but would prefer sharing their dossier(s) once we have some sort of rapport established. each verse has been developed with its own separate history, arcs, and relationships because i genuinely love building those sorts of "what if" scenarios. if i have followed you first, there is a 99.9% chance i already have something available for discussion. feel free to ask about them if you're curious.

on that note: please be aware that i like integrating aylen quite heavily into canon material. to me, it makes the verse feel more alive and grounded; like they're a genuine part of the world. however, while i might have some pre-established history written into the foundation of a verse, know that i will never force or assume anything about you or your portrayal of a canon character ( if applicable ).

i use standard + small text with some spacing flourishes in my writing, but nothing extensive. i'm also not focused on aesthetics much these days, so i won't be using icons. really trying to pare back a lot on high-effort design in order to combat my chronic burnout. :]

psd coloring by kaisources

* ■■■ ... aylen, the end and all beginnings. 15-26+. almost human, not quite human. nonbinary, she / they. bisexual, a-spec.

[reienne]

there are aylen lookalikes everywhere for those with eyes to see

[reienne]

some bullshit aylen would pull up with

[reienne]

[ 💤 ]ㅤ how do they sleep ? curled up, sprawled, holding onto something ?

aylen sleeps like a cat: sometimes sprawled out, stretched and twisted into odd yet elegant positions, most times curled and centered around something. she's surprisingly cuddly while asleep and wraps herself around whatever is immediately available to her. usually this means a blanket or a pillow, but sometimes this can be a person or an animal.

like this:

unless it's hot. then they want NOTHING to do with another body being near theirs. unhand them right fucking now.

[reienne]

do they love their life?

" i don't know. "

they're crouched by the edge of a pond watching brilliantly colored koi swim on by with a blank expression. the fish are massive and cognizant enough to follow their finger as they drag it to and fro above the surface. " but i guess not every human loves life either. maybe it's rude to speculate. "

[reunion]

where did you learn to do that? (UMMM phainon <3)

“ …hm? oh, you mean this? ” aylen's question pulls him out of his deep thinking on the medallion in his hand. okhema's marketplace may be bustling at its peak, but he doesn't let it interrupt his focus. the smile he gives them is easy and vaguely knowing, turning to hold the piece towards her so she can see. “ i've spent more time than i care to admit reading books on the matter. artifacts and antiquities and the like… it comes in handy when you're trying not to get taken advantage of at the markets. ”

he turns the medallion over, letting the light gleam and highlight the details of the surface. “ the weight, the texture, the color… even the feeling you get when you hold it, if you can believe that, it all plays a part. a good forger can get the looks right, but they often miss what's important. ” a small, sheepish smile comes from the thought of the next utterance, though it's something he believes fully: “ the… soul of it, i suppose you could say. ”

a clearing of his throat then, and his expression shifts into something much more focused. “ look closer, partner. ”

— as if already knowing what he'd find, his thumb nail scrapes gently along the surface, much to the merchant's displeasure. …the color of aged metal, a result only earned through the passage of time, flakes off with ease in greenish-brown specks. “ the patina on this one is only painted on. ”

with a disappointed sigh (and more care than a lazy imitation deserves,) the medallion is placed back down onto the seller's display. the disappointment doesn't linger too long before he smiles at them again, his head tilting towards more stalls along the way. “ come on, we can keep looking. if it's a keepsake you're looking for, then it should be something worth keeping. ”

“ …unless… ” and here comes that playful lilt to his words, “ you've had enough of me showing off for one afternoon? no hard feelings taken for being honest, promise. ”

[reienne]

they shouldn't laugh at how shocked the merchant looks, fish-mouthed and bug-eyed and so terribly taken aback by the skillful rebuttal phainon has issued, and by all accounts aylen feels as though they have done a fairly good job of keeping a straight face. it would take a much closer inspection to identify the cracks of amusement crinkling her eye; surely a much more discreet veneer as compared to that sad counterfeit medallion.

" i think you scared him, " she notes, watching the seller slink away in dejection as they meander towards another stand. phainon's mirthful hints are answered with a smile no less roguish on her part. " so you admit to showing off ? "

aylen grows quiet as they follow him, rapt and singularly focused on taking in the myriad of glazed vases and ceramic goods that sprawl along the many, many tables dragged out for auction. briefly, she wonders if pompom would want a decorative centerpiece for the foyer of the express before phainon beckons her closer once more.

" you really do know a lot about ... " she starts and then trails off as he holds up something glittering to the sun's light. sea-green with amber flecks. it looks to be some kind of jewelry. a gloved hand comes to rest upon her chin in thoughtful repose. she's thinking. debating. and yet, the next question she utters is less than confident in its delivery. " um ... is this one fake too ? "

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM MARY OLIVER'S POETRY *  assorted lines from assorted poems, some slightly adjusted to suit a roleplay format, adjust as necessary

you do not have to be good.

ordinarily, i go to the woods alone.

when i am alone i can become invisible.

if you have ever gone to the woods with me, i must love you very much.

have you too gone crazy for power, for things?

have you too turned from this world?

do you think there is anywhere, in any language, a word billowing enough for the pleasure that fills you as the sun reaches out?

do they love their life?

don't worry, i'll bring you back, and i do.

i refuse to think to such a conclusion.

too terrible it would be, to be wrong.

in the night, i heard a sound outside the door.

would it be friendly too?

i stepped outside. it was gone.

one day you finally knew what you had to do.

you didn't stop.

trees, i think, are the most beautiful forms on the earth.

oh, i could not have said it better.

do you have time to linger for just a little while?

see who can sing the highest note.

believe us, they say.

it is a serious thing just to be alive.

i beg of you, do not walk by without pausing.

it could mean something.

it could mean everything.

you must change your life.

someone i loved once gave me a box full of darkness.

it took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.

tell me about despair, yours, and i will tell you mine.

whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination.

what's it going to be like?

you watch, and you try, but you simply can't imagine how they do it.

they are full of gorgeous life.

ah, what lessons you prepare for us.

i am thinking now of grief, of getting past it.

i feel my boots trying to leave the ground.

i feel my heart pumping hard.

i want to think again of dangerous and noble things.

i look upon time as no more than an idea.

when it's over, i want to say all my life i was a bride married to amazement.

we all know how that one goes, don't we?

i wanted to be able to love.

you don't want to hear the story of my life, and anyway i don't want to tell it.

it's the same old story, a few people just trying, one way or another, to survive.

did you feel it in your heart?

have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?

have you changed your life?

did you see it, finally, just under the clouds?

some kind of relaxed and beautiful thing kept flickering in with the tide.

you know what a smile means, don't you?

i wanted the past to go away.

when it's over, i don't want to wonder if i have made of my life something particular, and real.

i don't want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument.

i wanted to leave it, like another country.

i wanted to hurry into the work of my life.

i was alive for a little while.

mostly, i want to be kind.

nobody, of course, is kind or mean for a simple reason.

if they don't waste time looking for an easier world, they can do it.

i want to be improbable, beautiful, and afraid of nothing as though i had wings.

who made the world?

i don't know exactly what a prayer is.

i do know how to pay attention.

tell me, what else should i have done?

doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.

this isn't a contest, but the doorway into thanks.

just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don't try to make them elaborate.

i suppose that sometime we will learn everything there is to learn.

of course, i could be wrong.

it is heaven itself to take what is given, to see what is plain.

what do i know?

there is a thing in me that dreamed of trees.

i would have time, i thought, and time to spare.

then it came to me.

[amouralgia]

with the crystal clear vision of hindsight, she can't help but agree --- that broker did, and still does, make her angry. the choppy, kinetoscopic memory of her naivety being taken advantage of evokes enough shame to sting as it cuts her open with incisional precision. though, as to whether or not it was up to the exorcists to kill him is a weight of a question that still presses itself upon her even now. but still, even still,

❛❛  well ... even though we're gonna get in some sort of trouble, you still did a good thing.  ❜❜   reaching aylen, and clasping her hands upon aylen's shoulders, is more important to her in this moment than anything else that may continue to nag her. the order's resident ghost is finally in her grasp, and she doesn't dare to let go.  

❛❛   i'm really grateful you were there. seriously. no matter what anyone has to say to us when we get back home. we can just promise to work on your ... "temper" when we're back to training.   ❜❜

[reienne]

director komui's harping was always an odd occurrence. aylen still wasn't used to it, the way in which he hovered, calling after her with one bizarre excuse or another. she imagines the grating excitement he will undoubtedly greet her with upon their return and wonders how best to minimize contact. maybe if she turned in her report and hid ...

suddenly, the pressure of touch comes swiping down her shoulders and aylen has no time to hide the shock on her face. eyes wide, shoulders tense, an entire spine pulled taut at the intrusion of her space.

huh ?

on pure impulse alone she attempts to pull away, but marceline apparently has iron built into her fingers. it takes a second for her mind to catch up, for the displeasure to pull her expression to the smallest visible degree. aylen squirms.

" i — " she's at a loss for words. dumbfounded and so utterly uncomfortable. seriously, what was wrong with the people at the european branch ? tiny fists begin to raise, clenched with the sensibilities of self-restraint salvaged before reflex. the collar of her coat begins to pucker at the stress points of marceline's grip.

" hey. i don't — i don't have a temper. now, let go. "

[crimenight]

he can't quite tell if it is his looming presence that forces aylen to retreat back into their own mind or if it were the weight of her present circumstances gnashing its bloody teeth that scares them into silence. if he could transform himself into a being that were opposite all that the batman stood for, he would. a gentler disposition might do her some good. instead━this part of the manor is cold, the chandeliers hang dusty and dark, the night holds no moon, and bruce looks more like a ghost than a man. at least the smile that teases at his lips is pleasant and welcoming.

a surge of a familiar paternal instict washes over him while he deliberates over his response. he hates that someone would make her feel that she should look at the ground and not at him. he hates the way obedience is a means of self-perseveration more than it is a side effect of respect or genuine childlike curiosity, and most of all... “i have to insist you call me bruce. sir makes me feel old.” the humor in his voice is meant to be comforting━casual, like this were nothing more than a friendly talk between a guardian and his new ward. “would you like to learn? i think you'd make a wonderful pianist.” bruce tilts his head and his smile momentarily brightens. his eyes never stray from aylen's, even if they hadn't yet risen to meet his gaze. “what do you say, kiddo?”

[reienne]

her small head remains bowed, dark hair haloed by the strips of moonlight peeking through the room's burgundy drapes. despite the levity in bruce's deep timbre, her own voice is still taken. it's nothing like fear that anchors her. no, certainly not. just a persistent sense of nausea that has lingered in the center of her body for hours on end, week by week, coming and going depending on the day, the time, and the fickle weather. but when he offers her a seat, an open palm, to the object of her fascination, a fond memory surfaces and causes her to pause.

aylen had heard a beautiful melody once. it was quite the unusual treat, a salve she chanced upon after a mission somewhere to the north. a stubborn swirl had churned her insides after a particularly harrowing ritual. but as her handlers went about their business alone and left aylen to simmer in her catatonia, it started.

slow at first, then soft the whole way through. an enchanting song crooning from a nearby record player; the most mesmerizing three minutes and twenty four seconds in her recent memory.

her woozy aching subsided. then, just like now.

gradually, hopefully, aylen dares to take a peek. bruce's gaze twinkles in a way she hadn't expected. it's strange sight, but maybe good too. so her small head, barely raised, finds enough strength to give a nod. yes.

she grips the front of her shirt and inches forward to his waiting hand.

[reienne]

funny tidbits about aylen

annoyed aylen means silent treatment aylen. means skulks off to be alone aylen. means pouting while insisting nothing's wrong aylen. means your snacks might have mysteriously disappeared bc a certain someone ate them in a petulant fit aylen.

baby talks animals when no one is around.

there is a 50/50 chance they might just knock your shit out on instinct if you startle them. they kick like a horse.

they also have really strong grip strength for some reason.

i've already talked about how aylen will just eat bell peppers like apples. they do this with other food too. really not uncommon to find them just munching on ingredients instead of cooking a whole meal.

likes to sit on things like counters, ledges, balconies, rooftops, etc. they like being tall despite already being kinda tall.

a cool breeze on a quiet temperate day is more effective than therapy for them. maybe being alive is worth it sometimes.

don't give them physical puzzles bc there's an 80% chance they won't put it down until they solve it, even if it takes them hours. it's not that they're stubborn. it's just that they're locked in. the passage of time is no longer real.

has anyone ever considered the fact that maybe aylen makes a really cute face when they eat something sour.

[reienne]

if anyone has the time to give some critique on my writing i would appreciate it tbh... things that you like and things i could improve on? feedback isn't really common around here but i want to keep bettering my skills if i'm able y'know?

[dokseoga]

those who turned to prayer would surely bring about disaster , han sooyoung and yoo sangah had already taken their places at the front of the group , keeping members of the poisoner's group at bay , golden threads and sinew filled the air in a grotesque presentation. “ ... if. we need to get rid of them as quick as possible before the disaster can hatch ... ” yoo joonghyuk had been left behind to watch over the battlefield from the roof , leaving naught without advice for the upcoming scenario. “ this is the fastest way , yoo sangah and han sooyoung have the group distracted. ”

[reienne]

" i already know that. " their relaxed intonation dissipates as the pieces of the sub-scenario fall into place. truthfully, they would have rather joined joonghyuk up on that rooftop ...

instead, they were here: side by side with a man they knew nothing about. though circumstance binds their cooperation and there is precious little time to waste on hesitation, they still cannot help but wonder just how many secrets was kim dokja hiding in his head ? from behind the lacquer guise of their [ gumiho mask ], they study him. its painted face does well in minimizing the traces of suspicion from their person.

aylen steps forward towards and closes the remaining distance. a sterling blade manifests into their hand. " go on. i'm right behind you. "

[reunion]

“ ⸻ HRGH!! ” anddd… there it is. the second go-around of that very real and veeery serious pain in his chest. (in atsumu's mind, it's a stabby, punchy… burny… stingy kind of pain. …it doesn't matter. it's all of them! it's everything!! it's the worst pain ever!!!) his eyes fly wide open while his hand squeezes at the front of his shirt, crumpling up the fabric as if all of his muscles just seized simultaneously. it's one thing to think about what just happened for a little while— that moment would've came and went eventually, at least. but to hear that it happens 'every interview'…?

hold on, now. that just ain't fair!

his free hand shoots up then, his palm flat and upright as if urging them to take a time-out, if they could please spare him that much! “ UHHHH, hold it right there! ” with the little bit of life he has left in him, he's gotta defend himself even a little! “ so, it ain't enough that you'd leave me all alone on a farm… but ya had to go 'n say that on top of it?!… i'm already weak 'n wounded here! what kinda comfortin' is that!? ”

his idea of getting comforted isn't at all what he's gotten so far. but… the carding of their fingers through his hair... well, there's just no resisting that for long, is there? the careful graze of their fingernails soothes him down like he's an animal, always has and always will. it's almost visible how every tightened muscle of his relaxes and the fight drains out of him until he's just… okay. his eyes half-lidded, his mouth shut, and his brain quiet. (since when did 'comfort' also mean 'tame'?)

with a sluggish motion, he manages to turn his head towards aylen beside him. he's even smiling a little now... like a hopeful, injured, fragile little bird. “ well… at least, you still like me, don'tcha? 'n y'don't think i'm lame at all? ” could it be? that maybe life... ain't so bad after all...?

[reienne]

for a fleeting moment, the repetition of her fingers is the only source of motion in the room. atsumu has softened against her touch. aylen holds back any reaction to prolong the stillness, for a chance to see it just one second longer.

she's sure no one would believe her if she told them about this; about how quiet he could be. past the bluster and his shameless mouth, in the spaces where few people ever took the time to look, it was there. that secret part of his heart he kept hidden away. and beneath the ribs holding her own, aylen feels warm at the privilege he had granted her with / as warm as the laughter he always managed to bring.

the soothing pets of her hand come to a gradual stop when atsumu finally breaks their brief pact of peace and turns to her with yet another dramatic plea. this time, aylen hums in response. it's a thoughtful sound. not much time passes before she speaks again.

" of course i like you, " she says pleasantly. polite, even — and suspiciously evasive towards the second half of his query.

but before atsumu can question it, aylen leans in with a quick peck to the tip of his nose. and then, just as quickly, she follows up with a question of her own. " if you want to work on a farm, should we call kita for some advice ? he could probably help you get started. "

[proditeur]

"no concern at all." perhaps he would not traverse the fields of hell for nocturne — what are they to him but pleasant and fascinating company? — but if he was to happen upon those who pursue her... and if it was not too far out of his way... but he senses the way they turn from the subject and he breathes in a quiet sigh, forcing his eyes away and out towards the eerie night.

"of course i do. you never know when you'll need it." there's something mundane and calming in unwrapping a hard candy; like a little piece of magic. "only one flavour though. it's hard to do wrong by butterscotch.

"of course... i've poisoned that one. you ought to proceed with caution."

[reienne]

they almost scrunch their nose at such a lie; from incredulity, from laughter. nocturne can feel the edges of worry peel back from their neck at such a stupid remark / that something so simple could return their steady heart.

without so much as a second's consideration, they toss the hard candy into their mouth. it's sugary and timeless. poison has never tasted so sweet.

they glance back to memoir, the stark eyelines of their domino mask smiling back as they reply. " you should get a stronger dose. something this weak won't get the job done. "

[reienne]

i wish i could project my visions of aylen's designs in every verse into people's heads bc im too embarrassed to share my really messy sketches but they're all very different...

[reienne]

🎐 🧨 📿 🧩 🧭 write, boy.

[ 🎐 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a sound, like a song or voice, that they associate with peace ?

answered here.

[ 🧨 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the quickest way to set them off, even if they hide it well ?

extreme entitlement paired with a victim-complex.

aylen isn't exactly the type to showcase their irritation so you might not even know it at the time, but they have very little patience for people who only care about themselves and are really fucking annoying about it. acting high and mighty one minute and then pivoting to sniveling and whining are expedited ways to earn their dislike. it's one thing if you're a cocky asshole because you have the chops to back it up. it's an entirely separate thing if you've got a pathetic attitude and nothing to show for it.

aside from that, cruelty for the sake of cruelty. people who are malicious just because they can be, because they derive pleasure from it, because they are only preoccupied with their own self-importance and exploitative gains, because they feel as though they're above others and have the right to be. and for however much that kind of cruelty sets them off when they experience it themselves, it's so much worse if it's directed towards someone they care about. fr you are going to die i fear.

[ 📿 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat superstition or ritual do they cling to ?

i don't think aylen has any. they're not one to cling to esoteric beliefs as an adult, but may potentially look back on having done so as a child; something like prayer might be remembered from time to time. otherwise, nothing really comes to mind. they certainly aren't praying anymore.

[ 🧩 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s a truth about themselves they refuse to admit ?

while not a refusal, aylen does have difficulty in accepting the fact that they're actually quite soft at heart. there's no denial in the reality of how they've distanced themselves from their emotions by sheer survival instinct. it wasn't intentional. it just gradually happened. as a child they were more openly empathetic, so much so that they overloaded on it and burnt themselves out. but it's still there at their core, however misshapen and wrung out.

i often describe aylen's heart as bleeding without notice. it's been so long that they don't actually feel the wound anymore but they leave a faint sanguine trail behind them all the same.

beyond just accepting that fact wholeheartedly, i think aylen also has trouble understanding that having tenderness isn't a bad thing. it's okay to be soft.

[ 🧭 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhere would they go if they could disappear tomorrow ?

unfortunately when i hear the phrase "disappear tomorrow," the first thing my mind goes to is aylen's passively suicidal nature. "disappearing" in the sense of uprooting their life and starting over doesn't really work because aylen generally doesn't associate the concept of home to a physical location. it doesn't matter where they go, so there isn't really a particular place they would go to.

instead, if they were going to disappear within the next 24 hours, aylen would probably just stay at home / return home to tidy things up so no one has to clean up after them once they're gone.

it also largely depends on where in their development / arc they are. what i've described is aylen in the early or low stages, pre-development. a more realized aylen would probably have a much different answer.

[reienne]

her eyes were the color of faraway love.