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VelvetWhispers
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Aug 24, 2024
- Location
- England
Darlings,
Let's all raise a glass (or a McCafe Iced Frozen Strawberry Lemonade (gone but not forgotten), if you're also currently melting into your desk chair) because…it's time to start over. And not in a tragic, sobbing-in-the-shower kind of way—no, no. This is the delightful chaos of starting fresh, with a wink, a sword, and possibly questionable life choices involving fictional men.
I've dusted off my quill (read: cracked my knuckles and opened six new Google Docs) because your girl is back—and baby, I brought dragons.
Yes, I've plunged headfirst into a Game of Thrones RP and I am thriving. Absolutely thriving. I'm talking flirtation, deception, twin dynamics, and morally conflicted men in leather.
Let me introduce you to Elyra Frostmere—icy, beautiful, absolutely deadly, and the kind of woman who makes men like Jon Snow forget how to speak. She flirts like she's fencing: all elegant lunges and smirking parries. She's trouble wrapped in furs, and I love her like she's real (which, in my heart, she is).
Then there's her twin, Elric Frostmere—except, surprise! Elric is actually Elira...Elise? Elrica (most definitely will keep changing because I am so incapable of making a decision), in disguise as her own brother, because Westeros never met a gender norm it didn't want to choke on. She's a stoic, steel-eyed swordmaster giving Jaime Lannister a run for his money and a confusing, slow-burning attraction that he can't quite name. It's giving Shakespearean drag, it's giving tension, it's giving me cackling at 2AM like a gremlin.
And while I'm high on RP joy, I also finished Daredevil: Reborn and... look. I'm just going to say it. I'm in mourning. They killed off Foggy. FOGGY. That's like baking a cake and leaving out the sugar. That's like Batman without Alfred. That's like me without sass. I respect bold creative choices, but I also reserve the right to scream into a pillow. The original series walked so Reborn could… trip, dramatically, in the rain.
Meanwhile, I should be replaying all the Devil May Cry games again because that Netflix show awakened something. Mainly my love for cocky half-demon men with white hair and sibling trauma (you know my type). But instead… what did I do?
I reinstalled Injustice 2. I know. I have issues. I'm out here beating up Superman with Harley Quinn while a heatwave turns my house into the final level of Mortal Kombat. Finish me, honestly.
And if that wasn't enough poor life decision-making, I've also started rewatching Queen Charlotte (still sobbing) and The Queen's Gambit (still debating cutting my hair into chess-piece-chic bangs—someone stop me).
So yes. I am
thriving, screaming, flirting with fictional knights, emotionally compromised, and sweating all at once. It's giving disaster princess, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
To those brave enough to follow this glitter-strewn path of chaos—I hope you packed snacks and emotional resilience. I'm the kind of girl who kisses with quips, plots with prose, and probably seduces her own villain. If you're still here... you're already doomed.
Buckle up, sugar. Chapter Two bites.
With ink-stained fingers and too many tabs open,
Velvet Whispers
Let's all raise a glass (or a McCafe Iced Frozen Strawberry Lemonade (gone but not forgotten), if you're also currently melting into your desk chair) because…it's time to start over. And not in a tragic, sobbing-in-the-shower kind of way—no, no. This is the delightful chaos of starting fresh, with a wink, a sword, and possibly questionable life choices involving fictional men.
I've dusted off my quill (read: cracked my knuckles and opened six new Google Docs) because your girl is back—and baby, I brought dragons.
Yes, I've plunged headfirst into a Game of Thrones RP and I am thriving. Absolutely thriving. I'm talking flirtation, deception, twin dynamics, and morally conflicted men in leather.
Let me introduce you to Elyra Frostmere—icy, beautiful, absolutely deadly, and the kind of woman who makes men like Jon Snow forget how to speak. She flirts like she's fencing: all elegant lunges and smirking parries. She's trouble wrapped in furs, and I love her like she's real (which, in my heart, she is).
Then there's her twin, Elric Frostmere—except, surprise! Elric is actually Elira...Elise? Elrica (most definitely will keep changing because I am so incapable of making a decision), in disguise as her own brother, because Westeros never met a gender norm it didn't want to choke on. She's a stoic, steel-eyed swordmaster giving Jaime Lannister a run for his money and a confusing, slow-burning attraction that he can't quite name. It's giving Shakespearean drag, it's giving tension, it's giving me cackling at 2AM like a gremlin.
And while I'm high on RP joy, I also finished Daredevil: Reborn and... look. I'm just going to say it. I'm in mourning. They killed off Foggy. FOGGY. That's like baking a cake and leaving out the sugar. That's like Batman without Alfred. That's like me without sass. I respect bold creative choices, but I also reserve the right to scream into a pillow. The original series walked so Reborn could… trip, dramatically, in the rain.
Meanwhile, I should be replaying all the Devil May Cry games again because that Netflix show awakened something. Mainly my love for cocky half-demon men with white hair and sibling trauma (you know my type). But instead… what did I do?
I reinstalled Injustice 2. I know. I have issues. I'm out here beating up Superman with Harley Quinn while a heatwave turns my house into the final level of Mortal Kombat. Finish me, honestly.
And if that wasn't enough poor life decision-making, I've also started rewatching Queen Charlotte (still sobbing) and The Queen's Gambit (still debating cutting my hair into chess-piece-chic bangs—someone stop me).
So yes. I am
thriving, screaming, flirting with fictional knights, emotionally compromised, and sweating all at once. It's giving disaster princess, and I wouldn't have it any other way.To those brave enough to follow this glitter-strewn path of chaos—I hope you packed snacks and emotional resilience. I'm the kind of girl who kisses with quips, plots with prose, and probably seduces her own villain. If you're still here... you're already doomed.
Buckle up, sugar. Chapter Two bites.
With ink-stained fingers and too many tabs open,
Velvet Whispers