📖 for what my muse would write about yours in their diary. 📷 for what my muse would say to the paparazzi about yours. 💋 for what my muse would say to the person trying to woo your muse. 🔪 for the eulogy my muse would give for yours. 💌 for a letter my muse would write to yours. 📫 for a letter my muse would write about yours to a third party. 📨 for a text my muse would send to yours. 💬 for a text my muse would send to yours to a third party. 💀 for what my muse would say upon hearing about your muse’s death. 👪 for what my muse would say to your muse’s child about them. 👊 for what my muse would say upon hearing yours has been arrested. 💒 for the toast my muse would give at your muse’s wedding.
“You asked me if I was in love with you. Clearly, I do.” She examined her nails and feigned disinterest in what he was saying, although it did interest her – more than necessary. “Imaginary people don’t count,” Tabitha replied, with fake sweetness in her tone and smile.
He huffed out a chuckle, though it didn’t come across as disdainful as he meant it to, but rather offended instead. “You do care a little too much about what I think for someone who claims not to care at all”, Miles argued.
He grimaced at her childishly, mimicking her words, voice high. “Imaginary people don’t count… well, I don’t see a line of suitors at your door either, miss sunshine”, he retorted. “I can’t blame them for it, really… I also thought stepping too close to you would cost me a limb or two. You are not exactly friendly, you know! And… you are a little bit too short.”
okay, so when i first created this blog, i wasn’t expecting much. i just wanted a distraction from the tonnes of uni work i have. and considering the rp community’s track record ragarding female oc’s, i surely wasn’t expecting to do much here. i’ve just hit 100 folllowers (and i’m aware that’s next to nothing when it comes to tumblr) and this felt like the right moment to put up a small bias list, showing appreciation to the people who have welcomed me in this community and who make my dash a gr9 (that’s better than great).
I am interested in creating small universes with my writing partners and devoting spare time and creative energy into making it a great experience.
I AM NOT THE WRITING PARTNER FOR YOU IF… a) you are only interested in writing smut; b) you want immediate attention; c) you won’t talk to me out of character; d) you take it personally when I say I don’t have muse for a particular thread and would like to start another one, or when I say a particular interaction between two characters isn’t working for me.
If I can’t communicate with you honestly, I can’t write with you either. I reserve myself the right to refuse to interact with anyone whose writing is incompatible with mine, who doesn’t follow the rules expressed in these guidelines or whose character I cannot see mine co-existing with. I do not interact with writers who send hateful messages to anyone either, or discriminates based on gender, ethnicity, social class, sexual orientation, etc. That is not up for discussion.
MULTIVERSE !
EVERY INTERACTION ON THIS ACCOUNT TAKES PLACE IN A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE UNLESS STATED OTHERWISE. You can find how many general verses I have and descriptions of each of them in the verses pages, but should we need it, I can always add a new one to accomodate your character’s background. And trust me, I love AUs, so don’t be afraid of approaching me with an idea for one. (It’s literally my favorite thing. Please, talk to me about alternative universes. Please. Please.)
SHIPPING !
This account isn’t focused on romance, but in case it happens, I’d like for those I decide to ship with to keep in mind that those ships take place in different universes and there is no cheating involved unless we plot that out. I AM A SHIPPING WHORE, BUT PLEASE, DON’T FORCE A SHIP ON ME. It’s alright for your character to develop feelings for mine, or for you to ship our characters together, regardless of whether it’s romantically, sexually or otherwise, but that doesn’t mean my character will always reciprocate those feelings.
CONTENT !
This account deals with mature storylines and sensitive material (such as violence, war, death, illness, sex, substance abuse and more) will be present. Graphic material (such as pictures) will be tagged as trigger tw and nsfw pictures will be tagged as such, but smut won’t be under a read more and unless the thread depicts explicit triggering content, it won’t be trigger warned either. IF YOU HAVE A SPECIFIC TRIGGER YOU’D LIKE ME TO TAG, please do message me about it. Your safety and well-being is worth the few seconds it takes me to tag something.
WRITING !
1. DO NOT HARASS ME FOR REPLIES. I have a life outside roleplay and I’ll take it to offense. 2. Do not godmod, do not assume things about my character you haven’t asked me about and do not turn out of character knowledge into in character knowledge. 3. Feel free to ask me or my characters anything you’d like to know about them. I love sharing information about them with others. 4. I accept in character asks so if you want to go right ahead and interact with my characters, consider this your formal invite to do so. 5. I love plotting and you are more than welcome to message me about it, but feel free to send me memes as ice breakers as well. I don’t mind turning them into threads! Just, please, make a text post for it instead of replying to my ask.
FOLLOW & UNFOLLOW !
I typically follow everyone I’m interested in interacting with, at least for a while, and from then on it starts to get tricky. I don’t like a dash I can’t keep up with so, if it has been a while and the person I followed hasn’t followed back or showed any signs of interest in writing with me, I will unfollow. I typically unfollow people who have unfollowed me and failed to let me know why (if it’s not a lack of interest in writing with me, I trust people to shoot me an ask and let me know they are still interested). I will also unfollow people I’m mutuals with and even adore, but don’t write with at all, or people who don’t tag their porn (as I find it rude not to do so) or cut their posts (which is general tumblr rp etiquette). IF I DON’T FOLLOW YOU, IT DOESN’T MEAN I WON’T WRITE WITH YOU: feel free to approach me for plotting anyway. Sometimes I can’t tell whether or not someone is compatible with me as a writer, but I’d love to be proved wrong.
GETTING STARTED !
If you’d like to write with me, follow this account and I’ll check yours out. Shoot me an ask if you are interested in any of the plots in my WISHLIST or send me MEMES until I give you something you can turn into a thread.
GHOSTWRITER !
Call me Kim. 25. brazilian. genderqueer. he/him/his. Part-time jerk, full-time clown, occasional stripper. I am passionate about art, literature, history, psychology, mythology and another bunch of topics that make me sound like a pretentious douchebag. I’m not scary at all (but I like to pretend I am the scariest) and I’m always up for a chat so don’t be afraid to message me!
FULL NAME: Miles Hunter GodfreyNICKNAME(S): HunterOCCUPATION: Dig. Forensics & HacktivistAGE: 30 BIRTHDAY: June 20th GENDER: MaleORIENTATION: Demiromantic BicuriousNATIONALITY: AmericanRELIGION: Agnostic THEME SONG: Drive, Incubus
BACKGROUND !
DATE OF BIRTH: June 20th, 1985 BIRTHPLACE: Annapolis, MD RESIDENCE: Washington, DC SOCIAL STATUS: Middle Class LANGUAGES: English EDUCATION: Engineering & Computer Science at Virginia TechPARENTS: Richard Godfrey & Annette Wilson (deceased, 1999) SIBLINGS: Nolan (older brother) PETS: Chips, a robot
JUNG: INTP, The Engineer ENNEAGRAM: The Investigator TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good TOP 5 TROPES:5 TRAITS: Reserved, curious, helpful, distrusting, skeptic ARCHETYPE: The Sage
VICES !
SMOKES: Yes DRINKS: Yes DRUGS: No VIOLENT? No THREAT LEVEL: Low to medium ADDICTION: No IN BED: Versatile
MISCELANEOUS !
HOGWARTS HOUSE: Ravenclaw STAR SIGN: Gemini CHINESE ZODIAC: Ox ELEMENT: Air YIN OR YANG? Yin SEASON: Fall SIN: Wrath VIRTUE: Charity
i
❝ There was a time, when he was a boy, that he would spend his Sunday afternoons helping his father with the car in the garage, until his mother forced both inside for supper. He was the youngest of two brothers, but his parents worried more about him than Nolan, who collected friends wherever he went. Miles, on the other hand, had difficulty stepping outside his own world:
ii
He would rather stay at home, disassembling his parents’ electric fan to see how it worked, than to go to a school fair and stand there with no clue about what to do with himself. With time and little by little, however, he came out of his shell and made a handful of friends, proving to his parents that there was nothing wrong with him. He was just different from Nolan—and that was alright.
iii
They were happy. Nolan left to med school when he was eighteen, following after their father’s steps, which put a strange weight on Miles shoulders: to live up to him, to be more like them, even though he never could. The mere sight of blood made him sick to his stomach and he cursed the fact he wasn’t as strong as his older brother. He had been compared to Nolan through his whole life, always on the losing end.
iv
It made him want to prove himself and his worth. He wanted to make dad proud, for a change, but he didn’t have a chance. He was a semester into High School when a car accident changed his life forever. His uncle knocked on the door at eleven o’clock in the evening and rushed him to the hospital: his parents had been in an accident on their way back from Washington.
v
They were gone by the time Nolan arrived from the school campus. In their anguish, the brothers yelled at each other things neither of them would forget for years to come. Their parents were buried two days later and Nolan left again.
Miles moved in with his uncle, unable to stay in the home he had shared with his parents. They sold the house—but no one touched his car.
vi
He lost his ground without his parents and backed into his shell, throwing himself full force into the World Wide Web and avoiding his friends. He become distant and apathetic. For a while, his academic life left a lot to be desired and he seemed to have lost all the motivation to prove himself that had granted him straight As for years. He skipped classes and got into trouble, and when Nolan called, he refused to answer.
vii
Nothing caught his attention until he went to a robotics fair and fell in love with the humanoid machines. He signed up for a robotics competition and started to work on building his first very own robot. The next day, it was the first time in months his uncle didn’t have to force him out of the bed. Miles worked on his robot for months, and despite the fact he hadn’t fixed his relationship with his school friends, his grades were starting to get better again.
viii
The first place award made him feel good about himself, but it was his niche on the internet that gave him purpose again. He had been fooling around with hacking codes through his High School years, but it wasn’t until he met someone from a hacktivist group that he considered it as a tool to make the real world somewhat better from behind the screen of his computer.
ix
Miles thought that if he could make a difference, a real difference, maybe his dad would be proud of him from wherever he was. So he asked for the stranger on the other side of the screen to let him join them… and he did. It wasn’t a surprise to his family that he pursued a career in Computer Engineering, or that he got into Virginia Tech, even if Miles could tell from their lack of support that no one agreed with his choices.
x
They’d always expect him to try and fit into the mold his father left for him and anything other than that would be a disappointment. However, Miles didn’t need their approval. He got his share of his parents’ inheritance money and drove all his way to Blacksburg on his father’s car, where he would stay for a master degree in Information Technology as well.
epilogue
When he decided he was done with the system’s schooling, he moved to Washington, DC, where he shares an apartment and watches the politicians with a hawk’s eye from his little nest, ready to expose the littlest hint of corruption he can see and bring them into justice.
He was prepared for it when the apocalypse came, or as prepared as a paranoid man can be for a virus outbreak. Miles drove down to his cabin in the woods at the first sign, despite it hitting California first, and in a matter of months, all communication with the outside world ceased to exist. The radio was out. The internet was down. It felt like the world had come to an end and he was the last man alive with no one else to tell the story to… until one day, he picked up a radio message from a group staying not far from where he was, and he decided to join them.
A month turned into two, then three, and time ticked by slowly as he lived alone in his cabin. There was little to do by himself, but Miles kept himself busy by working on weapons against their supernatural threat. Little by little, he ventured into the woods, then to close by towns, threading through civilization after scraps. He was a survivor, not a fighter, after all, and could only dream of ridding the earth from that demonic plague. It was during one of his trips to one of the nearest towns that he ran into the leader of a compound to the north. Upon learning about his weaponry and engineering skills, the man invited him to join them. Miles knew he had survived all that time on his own because he didn’t have to worry about anyone else, but life without others had lost a good part of its meaning as well. He took the risk and followed them back to their compound.
