Invitation

If you are a dreamer, come in If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, A hoper, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer... If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire For we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!

[talesgolden]

        — Hello & Welcome!

to talesgolden, an independent multi-muse roleplaying blog, as written and gathered by Hannah (she/her, 25+, CST) !

      This blog is secondary priority, and medium-low activity. My discord is available on request to mutuals for plotting and chatting! and anyone is welcome to send asks with any questions or concerns. For the moment, all of my ooc and muse information is on carrd, but I do plan on adding pages natively to tumblr in the future.

                        [ CARRD. ]        [ PRIMARY BLOG. ]

[talesgolden]

if i talked about one of my table characters who currently has no outlet and isn't actually available to be written with on this blog would y'all be cool with that or

[talesgolden]

if i put the like. backstory version of my tabletop character e.g. her before she was part of the tabletop game here and started writing here would y'all be cool with that or

[talesgolden]

nobody asked but i just think Simon's Pinterest Board tho

[talesgolden]

if i talked about one of my table characters who currently has no outlet and isn't actually available to be written with on this blog would y'all be cool with that or

[imintheleaves]

[talesgolden]

im not doing anything dwbi but if they were going to make a live action of the little mermaid II to go with the little mermaid (2023) who would be a good melody

[talesgolden]

i feel like anyone following more than one of my blogs can see me pacing digitally but i really do think im gonna come in here and shuffle stuff around later tonight

[talesgolden]

ok so. im still working on getting the new page(s) up, but muse changes are looking like

— Maddy, she's just modern verse @ru5t so she's over there now —Drew. shifting away from modern stuff here and i liked his modern more when i was more confined —Vi. same hat. —Little Creek. low/no inspo or apparent interest. —Eddie. see above. —Tracy. also this one. —Evie. i've always had vibes but never committed to writing her (she never even made it onto the old carrd) and i think the greater fandom ship has sailed. such is life

-> Jane. Plotting only. the greater fandom ship has sailed but I refuse to let go here.

+ Mary Lennox. but with a little more magic.

[talesgolden]

i feel like anyone following more than one of my blogs can see me pacing digitally but i really do think im gonna come in here and shuffle stuff around later tonight

[hvndredbattles]

"Told you, if she does, I will, and then we're even." There's a simplicity to that sort of reciprocality. Nothing more than an equal and opposite action-reaction pair. "It's really not so big a deal." At worst, what, she bites? Lashes out some? He's had far worse from far worse company. He shoulders his bag once more with renewed purpose, finally rising with the intent to make his way past the treeline for the evening.

He can smell it on her. Trepidation. Fear? Something uniquely Turned, he thinks, given the circumstances. When he looks over his shoulder, she hasn't followed.

"Oi." An eyebrow raises. "You won't get far before moonrise." If she thinks she'll manage... well. He's no clue what she's thinking. But her hesitance won't get her far, in any case, before her wolf steps in. Not if he understands right.

"Come on."

[talesgolden]

  Oi? Oi her? “¡Oye!” you! 

  For one thing, he was such a size she believed he could bite her clean in half without even really trying. Which is, decidedly, not how she intends to end her night. Far more to the point of the matter—

  “I do not want to be even, I want...” The words for it escape as she reaches. The harder she searches, the more out of reach they seem. Water cupped in palms and little dandelion puffs blown by the wind, so hard to keep. Bah. Simon makes the gesture at him, open hands, bah! Almost like shoo. Mind your own shift. “I was doing just fine until I was interrupted.” She snaps. Annoyed, now, that he's right. She won't get far at all, delayed as she's been and now made frustrated. One or the other might have been okay, but these things have a way of sticking together until they are all the same result. Teeth and tail express. The growl isn't even a choice, it just rolls up - small. More grumble than growl, really, but not a human noise.

  She wastes another second or two trying to think of something to do to put her plan back in place. ...The only thing worse than the idea of running with an unfamiliar wolf is having him get the idea to follow her and sniff around the place she's made for herself. So she adjusts her strap again and lets him lead the way, praying under her breath as the treeline looms.

[hvndredbattles]

  Mm. Lycanthropy the curse. The given. The forced. Part of him pitties that level of disconnect. To be without and then with, not growing together and learning from one's familial pack. She didn't choose it, of that he's fairly certain. Not with the way she hedges around her wolf.

  "I don't get the opportunity to run with much of anyone, these days." It's the sad truth of military bases and deployments, and the second-class-citizen nature of some installations. He gets the rare chase, mostly with his team, either of muted lineages themselves or trusting enough of him to know he wouldn't do harm.

  Richie lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "Sure." He hasn't had as much exposure to turned wolves, just as a matter of circumstance. But he has no prejudice for them. He wouldn't chase her away. "But you bite me, I bite you." It's as much deadpan teasing as it is a true fair warning.

[talesgolden]

  His nonchalance elicits a nervous sound from Simon, more sigh than laugh but still a bit of both.

  “That is why it is not simple. I do not know if she will.”

  Trust what the wolf trusts. But does the wolf trust anything? All Simon has ever known her to do is tear apart anything and everything she left within reach of tooth and claw. .. No, that is not true. She knows the wolf trusts the dirt, and the rain, and her nose. But that is not a lot to know about something - someone who made sport of hunting. Who could tear apart more than just shoulder bags and journals.

  She expects she's not much of a threat to him in particular (she's not certain she's ever seen a larger person in her life, actually) but the principle of the matter alone is enough to leave a bitter fear fermenting in the depths of her heart, where it mingles with the aching unrest deep-seeded by the approaching moonrise. Time grows thin. Still, she wavers at this crossroad, have turned like she intends to walk away but holding fast. Missing her cousin terribly.

[hvndredbattles]

Not an unfair question, he'll give her that. In any other circumstances, about anything else, Richie would be inclined go agree with her. Hell, once burned by once-pack already, by rights he should be right there with her. And yet. Here he is, years out from that pack, and forming a new one, albeit more human in nature. He can go without, but it's not the wolf's preference, so it isn't his preference either.

"We're not so different," he says with certainty. "That other part of us, it's different from rank or creed or jobs or hobbies. We can look our own in the eye and root out intent far better than any of that shite."

He exhales a steady breath through his nose, musing on words before he locks eyes with her once more. "I may not know you," he begins by way of explanation, "but I don't need to to know you like this." Wolf to wolf. He doesn't trust her enough to show his belly, but he trusts that he could put his back to her and not find a knife in it. There's something, he believes, that runs beneath their humanity. Wolven morality that is easier to ascertain, maybe.

[talesgolden]

  Ah. Trust the wolf and what it trusts. Eleanor always told Simon much the same. Such a curious sort, those born to curse. When she wasn't busy seeking ways to undo what was done, Simon wondered if the magic influenced more than these families' interaction with the cycle of the moon. Certainly the magic had been shifted, judging by the way control seemed to be the average. So was it all in equal measure? Or simple dilution?

  In any regard, he certainly did look wolfish without any aid of such big eyes or ears or teeth. Then, did she only think so because she already knew? She shook her head, moving back a step.

  “Then you know more of her than I do.” All these years tied together and the wolf still feels to Simon like someone else. Something living, in some arcane way, which she did not truly wish to harm, but still separate. And unknowable. “Would you run-” running! the idea, running, soil under feet and the thrill of- Simon has to recenter. “With. . -with a wolf that was never a pup? That will not remember it, come the sun?”

[mushfae]

[hvndredbattles]

❛ it's not that simple. ❜ ( what if simon for woof!richie owo - @talesgolden)

  “Isn't it?” He rests his chin on his folded hands, almost boyish in a way he so rarely is. It's easier to be like this away from the duties and responsibilities of his work. A little lighter. More guided by his wolf. He's more comfortable, more willing, to make small-talk with this wolf. A stranger in all but this one commonality. He can think of little more binding.

  “The nose does most of the work, finding others.” More like them. “Plenty are welcome to others.” They're social creatures, after all. She doesn't have to go it alone.

[talesgolden]

  It's a strange sensation. One she's never quite sure how to articulate in any language — the raising of hackles that are not, really there, so like and unlike what used to be hair-on-the-back-of-her-neck. It's not the same. Similar, but different. Louder. A ripple from under the water. A root pushing up against the soil. Simon's not sure who she's more uneased of, the wolf at the table or the one pushing against the insides of her ribs. She twists her hands around the cross-body strap of her foraging bag.

  “Maybe... some things are better left unsniffed.” It's hard to tell, but that may not be the finest continuation of a thing. Simon sighs, trying to settle the itchy feeling crawling all over. “I mean that... how can you welcome what you do not know?”

[hvndredstories]

Monty grimaced. "The same, I think?" Such a great psychic, he was. Couldn't even recall his own visions well enough to compare them. His parents would be so proud.

With a heavy sigh, Monty dropped his head to hide his forehead on Simon's shoulder. "I don't know," he huffed a little petulantly, exasperated and tired and really just. So done with this shit. Weedkiller, asking runes, or sitting with a deck, maybe it would do something, or maybe he'd just be inviting more. It would be just his luck.

"I just-" He wished he'd had a different relationship with his family. He wished he could just, sit down with someone more experienced in psychic shit, and ask for help, and not get bogged down with personal dramas. "This just sucks."

He took one of their hands in both of his, with no motive other than to hold it.

"I think I just made us late." Sorry, but in more words.

[talesgolden]

  Oh, love. Love, love. Simon returns the gesture so their hands alternate, his-hers-his-hers, all pressed together and holding on.

  Not for the first time even just this week, Simon wishes he had more answers. More places to turn. The lifetime in which they had support to learn about their magic, the power in their blood, seems so long ago now, nearly something that belonged to someone else. Still, it had been such a steady thing. Sharing and growing, permitted to ask questions and learn and make mistakes. The only education Monty ever gained from his family in regard to his power was how to fear. Simon squeezes his fingers.

  “Vida meva,” life of mine, “I am sure we were late before I found my shoes.”

[tvandfilm]

HOOK (1991) dir. steven spielberg

[yelhoee]

source

[talesgolden]

i'm thinkin about. these are very old edits but i'm thinkin about them