Multiverse, multifandom OC 18+ Only. Original character and writing are mine and not for reproduction without permission. I do NOT consent to having any of my original writing or artwork used in any way with any form of AI generation.
Multi-fandom OC.
(Fandom based, but with original lore.)
(Currently hoping for: Highlander, Xena/Hercules, Young Sherlock)
This blog is now Mutuals Only (26th Dec 2025)
(Unless we have already been writing together! Sideblogs please message and let me know. I may take a little while to follow back!)
1. Mun is 40+. Victoria, Australia (Australian EST). 21+ partners preferred, selective with 18-21. No Minors.
2. Please read rules before interacting.
On the link or the readmore below.
Last rules update: 23rd April 2026
3. Muse Information on Carrd.
Some AU verses have different versions of the muse.
Marvel, Dune and Tolkien verses are movie/TV based.
4. Policies on this blog.
Not 'rules' but how I do things here.
5. Memes - please don’t reblog from me if you’re not going to send one. Reblog from the source instead.
Memes - Ship Memes - Headcanon Memes - NSFW Memes / NSFW HCs -
Munday Memes - Open Starters
6. Muse Stats
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue-Grey
Age: In AU verses, usually 30+
Place of Birth: In her main verse, Cornwall, England
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Heterosexual
7. Rules under the Readmore below.
Basics
Original character and writing are mine and not for reproduction. (2012-2026). Likewise original graphics on the blog.
I want nothing to do with AI generated content.
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I do NOT RP with:
Minors. No-one under 18 years, selective with under 21. No age mentioned, no follow.
Personal (non-RP) blogs. Please let me know if you have RP sideblogs.
Blogs that don't have rules somewhere, unless I already know the mun.
Blogs that expect rapid-fire replies all the time (see below).
HARD NOs (if these are what you're here to write, we're not compatible):
Instant smut/only smut.
Infidelity/cheating plots.
Non-con, dub-con (including A/B/O) or sexual assault.
Incest.
Pregnancy threads.
Animal abuse and cruelty.
Child muses (under 13). NPCs are OK, but not children who are the main muse. Any threads with older teens will be strictly platonic.
Very selective with;
‘Unrequited crush’ threads need to be talked about first, and boundaries set.
Manipulation/mind control threads likewise.
‘Fight’ threads where it’s Thera against someone else’s muse. Her vs random NPCs is fine.
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OK, if you're still here ...
Activity I'm slow during the work week. Work exhausts me, and I'm in a different timezone to most of you and that will also slow things down. I cannot give rapid-fire multiparagraph replies every day. Short replies (up to one paragraph) I might manage sometimes, but anything longer will take time.
Verses Are separate unless otherwise agreed, or for silly shenanigans.
Interaction Please communicate, please reciprocate. This is a hobby, but it’s a hobby we should both enjoy and it’s not enjoyable when something’s all one-sided. Busy happens, favourites happen, but if I’m doing all the sending and messaging and you don’t do any, then no hard feelings but after a while I’m going to move along.
Post length I’m good with any, as long as we’re putting in roughly equal effort. Longer threads will take longer to reply to.
Reblogging Memes Please don’t reblog memes from me without sending me one. You don't have to send me something, but if you don’t please reblog them from the source.
Shipping/Smutting Not automatic or guaranteed. Thera is multiship, male-attracted, and we enjoy shipping, but it takes writing together before we decide to ship, to see if we and the muses are compatible. It also needs to be talked about OOC first, to make sure we both want the same things from the ship. Smut will only happen in the context of an established ship.
Triggers and Tags I tag potential triggers as '[thing] tw'. If you need anything specific tagged, let me know (if you have a tag already blacklisted, tell me and I’ll use it).
No God-Modding I write my muse, you write yours, and if in doubt, ask. Please don’t decide for me what she does, thinks, says or feels (or did before the events of the thread), that your muse has done something to her, or put her in a certain situation, without asking first.
Ignoring what I’ve just written and continuing as if Thera never said or did something counts as god-modding, too.
Meta-gaming is giving your muse OOC knowledge IC. There are muses out there powerful enough that they could know things, but please talk to me about it first.
On those last two points, I also reserve the right to say no.
「 RP MEME : NONVERBAL PROMPTS. mix of violent, caring, touching and non-touching prompts. 」
SEND PROMPT '+ REVERSE' for the inverse to happen. for example 'bandage + reverse' for the receiver to bandage wounds on the sender.
[ BANDAGE ] : sender bandages a wound on receiver.
[ GUIDE ] : sender puts a hand on he receiver's back to guide them somewhere.
[ WAVE ]: sender waves down receiver to get their attention.
[ SIGN ]: sender raises their hand to sign to receiver. what follows can be anything the sender desires.
[ LIFT ]: sender lifts receiver's chin to look at them.
"This is a lab, there's plenty of glassware about. Just use a beaker or a flask for the flowers. Yes, I saw them on your 'desk' when I came in. My dear, you seem to have quite a few admirers around here. I'll say you can have your pick of just about any eligible bachelor in this building. Of course, if I decided to throw my hat in there I doubt any of them would stand a chance." He just couldn't help himself. old habits die hard, he actually missed their bickering and wanted to get a reaction out of her.
"Now tell me, why do you look like a deer caught in headlights? Does it shock you to know I can't be a decent sort of fellow? I wasn't raised in a barn, you know." Well, he kind of was but she didn't need to know that. "It's your birthday, my dear. It's the one day a person is allowed to be a bit selfish and celebrate themselves. And I want to help you celebrate. Is that so hard to believe?" The Doctor put an arm over her shoulders. "The Universe at your fingertips my dear. If you're not quite sure where you want to go we could always leave it to chance. It's much more fun that way."
"Doctor, the last time I touched anything in this lab, you threw a complete conniption!" She was learning to spot when he was talking nonsense for its own sake, and answered in the same tone. "Be careful, or I might start to think you've set all this up just for looks."
Add in that she didn't want to accidentally pick up something he did truly need, and the plastic vase from the kitchen would do perfectly fine. She moved across to put water in the vase and then to gently unwrap the bouquet, with an eye-roll that was more amused than real. "Actually, I was warned that you were a charming bugger when you wanted to be. So I've had time to prepare my girlish heart just in case!"
Her 'girlish heart' didn't stop a short snicker at the arm across her shoulders - he was really committing to the bit - as she slipped the stems into the vase and put the paper aside, planning to re-wrap and take them home at the end of the day. "And exactly, the entire universe! Not a chance to waste, that's why I need a moment to think!"
It takes reminding, every now and then, that meal time meant a shared experience, rather than refrain as past tendencies had encouraged. Thankfully, that particular lock is loosening all the time, helped significantly by changes in scenery and the variety of cuisine available, the latest stop on their trip so far standing large and welcoming to their presence, as well as their wallets!
"Would I be considered a bad lover if I confessed that part of me wants to encourage you?" Head slants with amusement, a chuckle tugging at his mouth at the image such a move conjures in his mind's eye. It felt a safe bet to reckon that she'd last on the mechanical ride more than most, though it surfaced another concern, as they stepped inside; "Wait, should I try to catch you if you get thrown off?"
Such a question gives way to another familiar face, that of rounded eyes and a gaze that mutedly spoke of wishing to be there for her as they find a set a high table, that exchanged chairs for stools to sit on. Waiting on the table was a single page menu, delineated by food type, a sprawling list that sees his pointer finger land on a specific option; "Is a platter for two the play here? Or should we choose from the main menu instead?"
"You can do that ..." Amused for its own sake as much as welcoming the distraction, the discomfort tucking away to be looked at when time allows; the principle was that if they couldn't both eat she'd find somewhere they could. And as for the other matter, "You'd only be considered a 'bad lover' if you don't buck for me later."
That's delivered with her usual airy nonchalance, as if it's not intended to lead his thoughts a particular way before she skips off, leaving his decorum in the wreckage.
"They have safety mats on the floor for when people get thrown." Nobody wants the insurance nightmare otherwise. 'Joes' doesn't seem to have a bull at first glance, but there is a games room off to the side that might bear investigating. For now, though, they perch on the high stools, the kind Thera has to use the step-bar to reach and Miguel casually doesn't.
"Platter for two sounds good." With the option to get another one if perchance his appetite properly kicks in, "And I'll stick with mineral water for now. We can always get a drink drink later on."
Good, he had her just where he wanted her. He knew she wouldn't buy his whole act, but like him on many occasions, her curiosity would get the best of her. For two people who didn't get along they had a lot in common, too much. Which is why they probably bump head so often.
Leaning against a lab bench the Doctor watched as she entered the TARDIS. He waited and watched every reaction. Maybe he could actually impress the infuriating woman. The look on her face when she stepped back out of the TARDIS, he couldn't help the smug smile spreading across his face. "Yes, priceless!"
The Doctor walked over to the TARDIS patted it on the side. "Well, my dear, I guess I should come clean about a few things. This is my ship, the TARDIS, Time and Relative Dimension in Space. Believe it or not, it travels through time and space. And well, I'm not sure if you've figured this out before or have discussed this with Lethbridge-Stewart, but I'm not exactly human."
"Jerk." She said it amused, with a genuine smile. Credit where credit was due, not only had he slam-dunked her with the TARDIS itself, but he'd suckered her into it like a pro! "That was ..." She turned to look back at the blue box, now back to looking as it had, an innocent relic of British streets somehow brought indoors to be the Doctor's 'shed'.
She shook her head, chuckling softly, "I did wonder why a storage shed needed to look like a Police Box." Aware she was speaking mostly to give herself time to think, she stopped and huffed a breath, hands on hips.
"Alright," After a moment, still looking at the machine, "considering UNIT's main purpose, neither of those things is as unbelievable as it would be otherwise." As if she could possibly not have believed what she'd just seen with her own eyes, twice. "But still," Under her surprise she'd noticed how pleased with himself he seemed, this time deservedly so, and she wasn't (quite) so petty as to spoil it for him, "wow!"
Another moment, another breath, and she turned to look at the Doctor directly, eyes assessing, "Now I know your full qualifications for your job!" Her gaze narrowed, tongue poking behind her lower lip in thought ... but then dismissed the idea. "So, how did you end up down here?"
One of many cons of being so large is that Bruno can't fit into many buisneses or event halls. Because of it there are many parties and special events he can only watch from afar. Such limitations are why he finds fireworks so special. Fireworks are one of few events that he can participate in the same manner as everyone else.
Golem has got his own beer bottle in hand, carefully perched between two rocky fingers as he gazes out at the foggy sea with her. Fireworks screech and scream, cutting through the gray. It is beautiful to see the light shine through the dark.
"I think we'll get it off as long as no big calls come in. Most people should be at home eating BBQ and relaxing," Bruno replies with a soft shrug. "Could always use a vacation day, although I prefer to save my days for big holidays like Christmas."
Does it sound strange to say she feels safe with Golem? He's huge, he's dangerous, and he has a liking for a good destructive fight. But two of those things they actually share, and besides, he only takes the fight to those who need it. Otherwise he's steady, solid (in more ways than one) and just wants to roll through life without undue hassles.
When you're in the 'super' community in Torrance (or probably anywhere), chances to do that can be a little thinner than they like.
SDN is a paycheck for people who might otherwise never see one (she's one of the lucky few with an employment history that doesn't flag a government database) but it's also, well ... work. Hours, duties, expectations, and they complain about it the way workers do. Thera's eyes light as one of the bigger fireworks explodes, the kind with a big bang and then scattered smaller ones as the paper rocket falls.
"As long as nobody," Cough behind her hand, "Flambae," Cough, "decides to do anything stupid with a box of rockets." A pause, sip of beer, and then a thoughtful smack of her lips, "BBQ sounds good, though."
Looking her over with a furrow of his brow, he checked for any sign of harm that she might not have noticed, attention only turning to the idiot in the sky once he was satisfied the adrenaline wasn't leaving her unaware of any wounds she might have had.
-- ❝Good- stay low, Johnny's gonna have to deal with this idiot..❞ Ben knew that half the problem here wasn't just stopping him, but ensuring civilians didn't get crushed by falling debris or blown up by one of those damn bombs. As much as the two were often at odds, he knew he could trust Johnny to handle it.
Straightening, he shifted a sizeable chunk of debris and found himself relieved no one had been caught up in it. So far so good, infrastructure was taking the biggest hit.
-- ❝One of the goblins, I ain't really keepin' track these days. They're all as bad as each other, and we've whooped enough of 'em.❞ He was sure this one couldn't be all that different, what's another idiot on a hoverboard in the grand scheme?
-- ❝You should get to somewhere safe, I don't want you gettin' y'self crushed while I'm dealin' with someone else..❞
Johnny's gonna have to deal ... She bit down, back teeth brushing as if chewing on that. Johnny Storm, Human Torch, yeah that made sense. Total sense, even if her molars were grinding on her temper just the same. This didn't need to be her fight.
"I'll be fine, Ben." A fire escape had saved her from the worst of a blast, the group of civilians who had just scurried out through a cafe's rear door already running for it away from the scene. Thera, unfortunately, was one of those who ran toward instead. Her own senses swept the area, searching not for humans but for anyone else caught up in the mess - anyone of the four-legged kind. Like ...
Shit. Like over there. "Ben," Speaking faster now, more urgently, already moving off to another part of the street, "I promise I'll be OK, but there's something I've gotta do ..."
And if that Goblin idiot came back, he was going to wish he'd stuck with Storm.
tell us your favorite quotes from your character. give us an idea of who they are by the things they’ve said. then tag your friends.
Does this idiot mean anything to you? [Said to a vampire lord right before she set his annoying follower on fire.]
Are you sure you're wearing the right uniform? Because you seem to be having a lot of trouble with the language. [To an English soldier who wasn't listening to the word 'no'.]
'Allegedly'. That's a newspaper word for 'please don't sue us'.
Muskets are a man's gun. One good bang and they need time to reload.
‘Platonic’. Named after Plato, one of the few Greek philosophers who actually had friends.
Yeah, sorry … I was speaking my mind and my mind said ‘Oh shit!’.
Hold my elegant crystal flute of champagne and watch this …
I’m a literate, learned, intelligent woman. Who never remembers to get a bloody shopping basket.
How do I fare - ? I’ve been on horseback all day and my arse chafes worse than my manners.
Personally, I don’t need precognition to foresee this going to shit.
It was a scene developing by the minute, injecting life into a tunnel designed to stand for millennia, undisturbed. The loss of two lives to deliver his freedom was but the start of a lengthy run that, unless thwarted early, would see the awakened deity set out to regain his strength and influence.
No exchange of words is needed to infer that the woman possessing the seal anticipated as much, as why else would she be standing here to begin with? Despite not glimpsing the starry night in centuries, it felt reasonable to guess that he's been kept far and away from civilisation, where moss growth, dampness and death could carry on, in perpetuity.
"You deign to make the trek here, ignorant of who I am!?" Although cadaverous in appearance, the wizened voice that answered her back left room for a heat that would've scorched had he the force available to muster. As it were, what meagre sustenance his spiders had siphoned from the explorers barely equated to a breath of air; ill fitting for rodents, let alone a once anticipated -- and feared -- entity like him.
"Still, I am... no fool." Kept at a disadvantage, too-thin fingers claw at the dirt as he pushes down with his palms to reposition himself. It's far from a flawless manoeuvre, given the odd groan and rasp heard, but after a short while, he's settled again, exposing a face that, even in the absence of a proper attire, strikes surprisingly close to human rather than arachnid, on the initial pass.
"If I were to reveal my name, no doubt you will take it and utilise it, along with that seal, to lock me away." Given the circumstances, it's all too easy to envision the worst outcomes, tides of trust having been previously used against him in the past, to his own detriment. "No... I will not fall for that trick again."
A hiccup almost chokes her, humour held to the slightest baring of teeth as a lip corner curves. The old 'don't you know who I am??' So often heard, and so often from those who have no idea who she is, either.
The stone warms her palm, faint beat on the skin that she isn't certain is her own pulse or that of the seal, humming a warning. "So ..." Her back teeth itch, words transforming as she speaks them just as her ears interpret his, "What do I call you? You sound like someone who'd demand some sort of title."
There's still the whispering, the shuffle of many, many tiny feet. It overlays the pattern of her thoughts, pieces arranging themselves in the puzzle of her brain. His name and the seal, hm? Noted, filed. The seal is obsidian ... which also makes weapons. Speculated, filed. She has far more to learn of this emaciated figure before she plans her next move, or knows what she must do; but powerful beings who have been locked away are generally very bad news.
His chosen title, at least, will give her a starting point for figuring out what she's dealing with, as will any boasting he's going to do; assuming she has the time to follow up on any of it.
She wonders as well how much obsidian exists in the walls around them? Whoever imprisoned him had the sense to craft the seal, did they choose this particular cave for a reason, too?
"Who was it who locked you away last time?" Information, of any kind, is power, even if she can't make use of it right away. "And what do you plan to do now that you're out?"
She's frustrated with him, too, and that sure as hell isn't gonna fly. He didn't ask her to come here, didn't ask her to get herself involved with his life, with his problems. He's handling it fine, and if she wants to go, he isn't going to stop her. He neither needs nor wants her to be a damsel in distress, because he isn't interested in saving her. He just wants her to stay out of his business.
But she won't go, and he knows that. Not for him, of course, but for Steven. He knows she doesn't give a damn about him, and he can't say the feeling isn't mutual, but Steven worships the ground she walks on, and she's been nice enough to let him. Marc just has the unfortunate luck to be the man whose body the poor sap lives in. So maybe they both got the short end of the stick.
But that doesn't matter now, because there's a man on his radar that matches the description that she gives. There's a man that he followed here that looks a hell of a lot like the man she describes. He could keep being a dick, and he probably will be, but he can't let that get in the way of his responsibilities. It is, after all, how he's always handled Khonshu.
"Yeah," he says, allowing the suit to fall away. At least he's dressed the way he wants to be, isn't set up as Steven. Marc was the one to bring them here, and Steven's interference was only minor. "I know the guy." Khonshu's been cagey about this one, but he's told him some. Not much, though, beyond a name. He's not all that surprised that he seems to have the jackals under his control, or that he's sending them after him. After all, if Marc knows him, he undoubtedly knows Marc.
He runs a hand over his face, eyes on the spot where the jackal had been. He's tired, and he's feeling a little spacey. Nothing he can allow himself to linger on, though. Never has been, never will be.
She's shoving past him, and he guesses he can't blame her for the attitude. After all, he's given her no small amount of his own, and he's probably not going to stop any time soon. He means it about not wanting her here, and since she doesn't seem interested in leaving, he's not above being, as she thinks of him, a petulant arse.
He's really getting tired of the English.
He follows after her, not necessarily to help, but to scan the room, to see if there's anything he's missing. The clerk might be a problem, but no one's going to believe any story that might be told anyway, so Marc can't imagine that the problem will elevate into anything. "Yes," he says, which isn't exactly entirely true. It's clear that the other man, Harrow, has his eyes on it, and safe isn't the right word for it, but he doesn't need her thinking that he's fucked up any more. "I've got it under control."
Which is, of course, probably one of the biggest lies he's ever told.
Maybe ... maybe. Thera buries the thought where she usually buries them, under doing. Under working, under taking care of things because they've come to her and if she doesn't, who will? If she doesn't walk back across the room, blades snapping back into the housing of her staff, doesn't go back out into the foyer and check on the clerk, call an ambulance, who will?
Marc, perhaps. Even probably, since the clerk isn't an enemy, just an unfortunate bystander. But it just doesn't occur to her as she goes to pause and look at Marc to see, to silently ask, if he will. To expect something of him that he might either not give or at the very least be annoyed with her for asking.
Plus she has a terrible 'own cross' habit of never asking for help anyway.
The clerk, thankfully, isn't dead. He's probably concussed, and though he's sitting up with his back to the desk is clutching one arm with the other. Thera crouches beside him, noticing his flinch as she takes a glance at his eyes before reassuring, "It's gone," and pulling out her phone.
Maybe ... it's grinding between her teeth like a mouthful of sand. part of her can still hear Steven on the phone, lost and scared and calling her to come save him. His face as he saw the jackal in full technicolor as opposed to her own vague shimmer, which is ugly enough. But if she keeps stepping in, keeps protecting him, it means Marc gets to keep his secrets and then hate her for it after.
Maybe it's time to go against her every nature, her every wish, and leave the poor sodding Englishman to the trials of 'tough love'. Maybe time to let Marc face up to the things he claims he can handle, and ... hope he fucking well can.
A long breath, in, out. Then she straightens up from beside the clerk and steps away.
"I'm outta here." There's still the wider problem going on underneath, and she needs to consider that as well. "Gonna find a hotel. You can come with me if you want. But either way, at the very least stop torturing poor Steven and tell him the truth." Maybe if he knows, he can let Marc be in charge. If he knows, he can step back when things go to hell. Maybe. Thera just knows things can't stay as they are.
She turns toward the main doors and walks, collecting the discarded hockey bag and slipping her staff back into it as she goes.
