Asakhi 'urs ni 'abbad

Indie Dís RP blog. Semi-selective, OC friendly written by Joly

[littleerendboy-blog]

                           What’s he doing?                                                                       …his best.

                                                     independent  RP  blog                                                Erend  of  Horizon:  Zero  Dawn

[limetraed]

[khazadbitch-blog]

rostshope:

      ‘ excuse me? ’ she shifts, awkward on one side as she looks down at the osseram woman, trying to switch the bundle on her shoulders that keeps squirming. ‘ excuse me ? ’ more assertive this time, enough that she rolls on her toes sending the drooling and gurgling thing into a giggling fit that involves pulling her hair enough that her neck bends down to her shoulder.

‘ MA’AM ! ’ there’s no subtlety this time, her voice loud enough to echo ━  which set the kid crying while tangling into her hair as hard as it’s grubby little fingers can get. ‘ the guy over there said this kid is yours, so if you would please get him out of my hair I would really appreciate it. ’

   ◬ ━━ @khazadbitch

It’s the manners that confuse her. Not that she’s unused to the concept of them, but...well. She spends most of her time with toddlers and tradesmen, and the toddlers are the better behaved. She doesn’t register the ‘ma’am’ as directed at her, anyway. She’s not a ma’am. She’s a mom, but she’s not a ma’am. Ma’am’s are older, wiser, worthy. You have to earn a ‘ma’am’. 

She doesn’t register the ‘ma’am’, but those cries are something she keys in on. A million screaming babies, and she’d know the sound of Kee’s wailing anywhere. 

She’s on her feet in a second; a spin has her ready to fight--shoulders tense and heart racing--before she takes in the situation. Her youngest is fine, gurgling sticky tears into some poor Nora’s hair, and Dis can feel her expression soften. 

“I don’t suppose you found the other one, too?” 

[thequotejournals]

The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said and never explained.

Little Birds (2012), Dir. Elgin James (via thequotejournals)

[mitchellwrites]

deathless ♚ sentence meme

[khazadbitch-blog]

deathbymitchell:

You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast.

You are going to break your promise. I understand.

You’re lonely too.

It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be.

I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable.

I am your servant.

I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased.

For you alone I will be weak.

I belong here, and you will not deny me.

I say these things, and the world listens.

I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried.

In the dark, I have pored over the loss of you like pale gold.

I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories.

I moved the earth and the water for you.

You will always run away with her.

You will always lose her.

You will always be a fool.

You will always be dead, in a city of ice, snow falling into your ear.

You have already done all of this and will do it again.

No one should be judged for loving more than they ought, only for loving not enough.

We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying.

What we carry between us is hard-won, and we made it just as we wished it to be, just the color, just the shape.

There need never be any rules between us.

Let us be greedy together; let us hoard.

Do not leave me, swear that you will never leave me.

I am selfish. I am cruel. My mate cannot be less than I.

Sleep with fists closed and shoot straight.

I can’t abide a poor liar.

You look like a winter’s night. I could sleep inside the cold of you.

Oh, quit that. Blushing is for virgins and Christians.

Scold me; deny me. Tell me you want what you want and damn me forever. But don’t leave me.

Bad luck relies on absolutely perfect timing.

In his own country, Death can be kind.

What is the world but a boxing ring where fools and devils put up their fists?

Men die. It’s practically what they’re for.

I am no one; I am nothing.

Nothing in me was not made by you.

A revelation is always the end of something. It might even be cause for grief.

Just tell yourself a story that’ll satisfy you and pretend he told it.

Forever isn’t bright; it isn’t like that. Forever is cold and hard and final.

I savor bitterness - it is born of experience. It is the privilege of one who has truly lived.

If you want to kill yourself, do not use us as your knife.

What did I do wrong? Was I boring? Did I ignore you?

Don’t you dare speak to me like that.

I have worn nothing but blood and death for years.

I have fought all your battles for you, just as you asked me.

I have learned not to cry when I strangle a man.

I have learned to watch everything die.

I am not a little girl anymore, dazzled by your magic. It is my magic, now, too.

Are we not devils?

No one is now what they were before the war.

I have not seen you without your skin on.

Close up your head; your brain is getting loose.

We obsess. It’s in our nature.

I’ve a devil of a habit for being right.

In war you must always choose sides.

If you try to be a bridge laid down between them, they will tear you in half.

We are all dead. All equal. Broken and aimless and believing we are alive.

My old bones will follow yours soon enough.

It is better to be strong and cruel than to be fair.

I will see him with his skin off before I agree to fall in love.

After love, no one is what they were before.

I have survived, but I have not been spared.

In the space of one heartbeat to another I loved you and I was lost to you.

Frighten me, make me cry, only come back.

It’s not so bad, my darling. Being dead. It’s like being alive, only colder.

You’ll think it’s love, while he dines on your heart.

You will be so beautiful when you are old.

I cannot keep you and I cannot let you go.

You will live as you live in any world…with difficulty, and grief.

I look at you and it is like my throat being cut.

She said you’d come and I swore to eat your heart.

I still want to kiss you.

My heart is being cut in two. I cannot bear it.

What happens to anything beautiful?

I have to know, I have to or else you will just rule me until the end of everything because you know and I do not.

[khazadbitch-blog]

rivetcitysecurity:

He held onto her gaze until the moment was broken by the hailing bar patron. He grinned at her silent command and, defeated, drank the water. It did little for him, just like the whiskey, but he allowed himself to appreciate that it was, abstractly, refreshing.

When she returned he waited expectantly, and then his eyes narrowed for a moment, analyzing whether she’d simply missed his point, but that knowing gleam in her unnatural eyes quickly put that to rest. He nodded, mouth quirking into a smile. He raised his shaking palms from the bar counter, cowed. “Can’t argue with that,” he said, dropping that line of questioning.

“I used to work security for a big settlement,” he offered. “Hundreds of people on board, and the worst offenders were always the drunk guys in the bar at midnight.” He tapped the side of his almost empty whiskey glass. “Well, I’m one man in whiskey who won’t be any trouble. I’m just looking for a few drinks, and a place to ride out the hangover. And if I do step out of line,” he added wryly, “I’m pretty sure you could hand me my ass.”

He shifted on the stool, clenching and unclenching his fist rhythmically, trying in vain to dispel the numbness and tingling which was inevitable after a long day of usage. “Don’t suppose you know a quiet place in town I could lay my head for the night and not get shivved. Or a place to get my damn mind wiped,” he added as an obvious joke, but he was also digging. He’d heard about a Goodneighbor denizen named Amari who did just that.

“Goodneighbor’s a place for everybody.” He’d been willing to let that line of inquiry fade into the night, but her response hadn’t been intended as a dodge.  “At least, for everybody what don’t have anywhere else. It can take a long time to find a place what can be home--” Ghouls, synths, or just ‘regular’ folk who don’t have anywhere else to turn had rallied to make Goodneighbor just that kind of place. And sure, it has its drawbacks, its dark corners, but Dessie had found something of a community here, and well she knew that others benefited in the same way. “--and Goodneighbor’s that place for me. Can be for anyone, s’long as you know the rules.”

She tipped another measure of whiskey into his empty glass, bracing her chin against her metal palm as she watched him, the gears beneath her collarbone clicking and whirring as her shoulder shifts. 

“I got clean beds upstairs.” Amber eyes tilt to indicate a shadowed staircase, winding up beneath a weakly winking beer hall sign, and her teeth dig gently into her cheek as she considers the weighty sincerity of his second request. “Never much felt like letting go of what the programming gave me...” It’s a personal matter, but she’s fairly certain of what he’s really asking--and what he’s really asking is really personal. “...but they do all kinds of things in the Memory Den.” 

[khazadbitch-blog]

❝ don’t matter what most people say. ❞

[[ mixtape meme || accepting ]]

“I would disagree, conditionally. Listening to their words will reveal their weaknesses. Most people are fools, and they speak accordingly. Let their words be their undoing, not yours.”

[khazadbitch-blog]

smol elf pounces on smoler dwarf

Are you alright, Inquisitor?

[khazadbitch-blog]

rivetcitysecurity:

He ran his hand over his eyes and huffed a laugh. “Yeah, probably not,” he said. He looked up at her, into her unnatural amber eyes, and then down at the metal hand holding the glass steady. He let out a long, slow sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging such that he looked about to fall asleep at the bar. A synth, obviously, and christ what a damn relief. He’d had enough Commonwealth anti-synth paranoia to last him a lifetime. It wasn’t enough that his system was on the fritz - the folks up here had him jumpy as a livewire.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, white-knuckled the glass to keep it from spilling over with his shaking, and downed the entire glass of whiskey first with a wry look in his eyes. It burned as it went down his throat and he let out a soft sigh. Perfect. “Preciate the suggestion, and you’re probably right, but at this point, ma’am, it doesn’t really matter..” He tapped the rim of the glass. Another.

He dug into his pockets for the requisite caps for these and at least four more rounds, laying them neatly on the counter. He also glanced back at the patrons behind him.

“None of them give you trouble here?” he asked, his voice casual but low. 

His caps hit the counter, and she hardly spares them a glance. Her metal fingers lift, coming to rest atop the can of water, and she drums a quick rhythm. Cold condensation beads against the label, catching at her fingertips. 

“Have a measure of water first,” But she reaches for his empty glass before her hand stills. Several seats down, someone hollers her name. Dessie raises a single finger, tilting it like a command. Drink the water, hun. I’ll be right back.

The bar’s not what she’d call packed, but there’s work and plenty, and she makes the rounds--more drinks poured here, dirty dishes collected there, caps pocketed as a patron stumbles from a spinning stool--before returning to the newcomer. 

“Trouble?” Her grin quirks, almost as though she doesn’t know he’s asking about her off-tone skin, the gears that spin behind the very visible tears at her collarbone, the rust-heavy knuckles she raps against the bar in a passing fit of fidget. “There’s always trouble when y’let men into whiskey, but it’s never more than I can handle. Folks know to mind their manners in my place, or they can go lookin’ for a different waterin’ hole.” 

[andhungry]

THE HAMILTON MIXTAPE SENTENCE STARTERS.

NO JOHN TRUMBULL.

❝  you ever see a painting by john trumbull?  ❞

❝  the reality is messier and richer.  ❞

❝  the reality is not a pretty picture.  ❞

MY SHOT ( RISE UP REMIX ).

❝  that’s why i hustle hella hard, never celebrate a holiday.  ❞

❝  i refuse to ever lose or throw my shot away.  ❞

❝  if i have given it all i got i cannot regret it.  ❞

❝  when opportunity knock, you don’t send anyone to get it — answer the door, welcome it, let it in, or regret it.  ❞

❝  i surprise you guys, i’m a prize fighter.  ❞

❝  be leaders, believers in yourself and mean it.  ❞

❝  i mean you only get one shot, take it or leave it.  ❞

❝  we ain’t got no other choice, we need to rise up.  ❞

❝  inside i feel that fire that’s burning.  ❞

❝  see i’ve been patiently waiting for this moment.  ❞

❝  give me my one chance to grab the torch and properly hold it.  ❞

WROTE MY WAY OUT.

❝  i had no foundation, no friends and no family to catch my fall.  ❞

❝  running on empty, there was nothing left in me but doubt.  ❞

❝  writin’ songs about rights and wrongs and bails bonds.  ❞

❝  competition near, i’m a spartan without the spear.  ❞

❝  this poetry in motion, i’m a poet.  ❞

❝  running out of time like i’m jonathan larson’s rent check.  ❞

❝  my mind is where the wild things are.  ❞

❝  oh, you think you smart?  ❞

❝  oversensitive, defenseless, i made sense of it.  ❞

❝  these sentences are endless, so what if they leave me friendless?  ❞

❝  damn, you got no chill.  ❞

❝  fuckin’ right, i’m relentless!  ❞

❝  i know abuela’s never really gonna win the lottery.  ❞

❝  i was born in the eye of a storm.  ❞

❝  this hurricane in my brain is the burden i bear.  ❞

❝  i’m here cause i wrote my way out.  ❞

AN OPEN LETTER ( INTERLUDE ).

❝  an open letter to the fat, arrogant, anti - charismatic national embarrassment known as  ______.  ❞

❝  the man’s irrational.  ❞

❝  trick, please!  ❞

❝  at least i do my job up in this rumpus.  ❞

❝  the line is behind me, i crossed it again.  ❞

❝  they were calling you a dick back in ‘76 and you really haven’t done anything new since.  ❞

❝  you’re a nuisance with no sense.  ❞

❝  you’ll die of irrelevance.  ❞

❝  go ahead, you aspire to my level, you aspire to malevolence.  ❞

❝  i don’t care if i kill my career with this letter.  ❞

❝  sit down, _____, you fat motherfucker!  ❞

VALLEY FORGE ( DEMO ).

❝  these are the times that try men’s souls.  ❞

❝  tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.  ❞

❝  i am seeing the best minds of my generation waste away in pestilence and starvation.  ❞

❝  is this all a test or have we met our doom?  ❞

❝  i am beyond comprehension of their nonsense.  ❞

❝  do you have no influence at all, you fucking skinflints?  ❞

❝  tone it down.  ❞

IMMIGRANTS ( WE GET THE JOB DONE ).

❝  it’s really astonishing that in a country founded by immigrants, immigrant has somehow become a bad word.  ❞

❝  we all came to america trying to get a lap dance from lady freedom.  ❞

❝  don’t think i didn’t notice those tombstones disguised as waves.  ❞

❝  all you got to do is see the world with new eyes.  ❞

❝  immigrants, we get the job done.  ❞

❝  look how far i come.  ❞

❝  we’re america’s ghost writers, the credit’s only borrowed.  ❞

CONGRATULATIONS.

❝  congratulations, you have invented a new kind of stupid.  ❞

❝  truly, you didn’t think this through? kinda stupid.  ❞

❝  i begged you to take a break, you refused to  ❞

❝  so scared of what your enemies might do to you. you’re the only enemy you ever seem to lose to!  ❞

❝  you’ve redefined your legacy.  ❞

❝  i lived only to read your letters.  ❞

❝  i look at you and think ‘god, what have we done with our lives, and what did it get us?’  ❞

❝  i’m back in the city and i’m here to stay.  ❞

❝  i know what i’m here to do. i’m not here for you.  ❞

CABINET BATTLE 3 ( DEMO ).

❝  and whether or not you want it, guys, that is the final compromise we made.  ❞

❝  we cannot cure prejudice or righteous, desperate hate.  ❞

❝  but we can’t address the question if we do not have an answer.  ❞

❝  is it my turn? good.  ❞

❝  a land of the free? no it’s not, it’s hypocrisy.  ❞

❝  how dare you.  ❞

❝  well, you asked how i feel. i don’t pretend to know the answer, but the question is real.  ❞

❝  let’s take this moment to establish a precedent.  ❞

❝  do you really wanna have that conversation?  ❞

❝  let’s hope the next generation thinks of something better.  ❞

WASHINGTONS BY YOUR SIDE.

❝  it’s kinda crazy ‘cause people think i got it made just ‘cause i got paper.  ❞

❝  i do got it made but that’s ‘cause i made it myself.  ❞

❝  don’t matter what most people say.  ❞

❝  i did everything that i want, i still don’t care what anybody else think.  ❞

❝  it must be nice to have everybody on your side.  ❞

WHO TELLS YOUR STORY.

❝  when i die, will heaven be done?  ❞

❝  what will my legend become?  ❞

❝  the path to perfection is rarely achieved. i head in that direction, i dream and believe.  ❞

❝  the quills that i dip into the ink go to document and you’ll remember me when i’m extinct.  ❞

❝  through hard times, we spark minds to keep the flame on.  ❞

❝  will they tell your story in the end?  ❞

[personistar-blog]

█ ▌◆ moulin rouge sentence starters.

❛ the greatest thing you’ll ever learn is to love and be loved in return. ❜ ❛ i owe you nothing. and you are nothing to me. thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love. ❜ ❛ seasons may change, winter to spring;  i love you until the end of time. ❜ ❛ come what may, i will love you until my dying day. ❜ ❛ he will fight for me. ❜ ❛ it’s a little bit funny. ❜ ❛ never fall in love with a woman who sells herself. it always ends bad. ❜ ❛ i can’t carry on without you. ❜ ❛ why does my heart cry? ❜ ❛ i don’t like this ending. ❜ ❛ i don’t need you anymore! ❜ ❛ we are creatures of the underworld. we can’t afford to love. ❜ ❛ i’m paid to make men believe what they want to believe. ❜ ❛ i can’t believe it, i’m in love. ❜ ❛ the difference between you and i is that you can leave anytime you choose. ❜ ❛ when will i begin to live again? ❜ ❛ you’re a beautiful woman. ❜ ❛ i love sex. ❜ ❛ where were you last night? ❜ ❛ you don’t have to lie to me. ❜ ❛ we have to end it. everybody knows. ❜ ❛ i saw you together. ❜ ❛ it’s nothing. it’s just an infatuation … it’s nothing. ❜ ❛ you’re going to be bad for business, i can tell. ❜ ❛ then i’ll write a song and whenever you sing it or hear it or whistle or hum it then you’ll know. it’ll mean we love one another. ❜ ❛ it’s not that i’m a jealous man. i just don’t like other people touching my things. ❜ ❛ today’s the day when dreaming ends. ❜ ❛ how could i know in those last fatal days that a force darker than jealousy and stronger than love had begun to take hold. ❜ ❛ only you can save him. ❜ ❛ i was a fool to believe. it all ends today. ❜ ❛ outside it may be raining but in here it’s entertaining. ❜ ❛ things aren’t always what they seem. ❜ ❛ things are exactly the way they seem. ❜ ❛ everything’s going so well! ❜ ❛ i couldn’t! i couldn’t go through with it! i saw you there and i felt differently! I couldn’t pretend! ❜ ❛ i don’t want to pretend anymore. i didn’t want to lie. ❜ ❛ we have each other, that’s all that matters. ❜

[khazadbitch-blog]

rivetcitysecurity:

the one about two synths walking into a bar… khazadbitch

Humanity smelled. The pungent aroma of rotted ghoul flesh, stagnant water, and stale cigarettes assaulted him the second he swung open the door to the Lucky Shot. Still, above it all he could distinguish that old siren song of room temperature whiskey, and that made up for anything else. He beelined for the bar, eyes sweeping over the denizens of the joint without lingering on any one for too long.

“Whiskey,” he said as he lowered himself with a grunt to the bar stool. “Rail’s fine. And if you’ve got any cold water or ice. My head’s killing me.” He flexed his shaking hand, and his left arm hung uselessly at his side. This late in the day, he was lucky he could string a sentence together.

She’s busy, as only a barkeep might be, and she raises a hand to acknowledge his bark without looking up. He’s not first in line--he’s not even second. She’s got regulars what need their thirst quenched, and a kid in the corner quaking for want of a med-x fix. 

Desdemona takes her time, disinclined to jump when a stranger feels it appropriate to make demands--even demands related to her job. When she does mosey back, she looks him over, eyes and chin staying level as she leans for the bottle beneath the bar. 

The shaking in his hand is not lost on her, nor the dead weight of his arm at his side. “Dunno if ice an’ whiskey is the fix for that, hun.” A hand that is more metal than flesh wraps around a rocks glass, holding it steady as she pours a measure of Rail. 

Still, she can’t contain the swell of pity in her breast, and this time when she leans down, the crown of her head disappears as she stretches for the cooler. It sputters as she snaps it open, the motor whining and whirring as protestingly as her aching joints, and when she stands again she’s pushing a chilled can of purified water at him. 

“Now, I ain’t yer ma’am, but you might consider drinkin’ that, first.”

[khazadbitch-blog]

ofrevas replied to your post: suledxn: me weeping openly over @khazadbitch‘s DA...

I want a restraining order

there’s also this

[khazadbitch-blog]

suledxn:

me weeping openly over @khazadbitch‘s DA verse bc Joly’s A+ pain game. 

imso sad

in case you didn’t catch the 1776 reference and need more pain you should click here and listen to this thing

[khazadbitch-blog]

                      One day everything will be well,                       that is our hope                       Everything is fine today,                       that is our illusion.                                                              --Voltaire

                  Independent Dís                           written by Joly                                 [rules]   ✧    [about]   ✧     [ask] 

[khazadbitch-blog]

fundinson:

He cannot refute that, no more than he can give her what she craves–––certainty, such a weighted word. More dangerous than hope, but alas, not enough to coat in truth. 

“No,” admits the guard, quietly. “I cannot. It’s not a war we’re marchin’ into, although battle may well await us ere all’s over; an’ perhaps death, aye.” Dwalin meets her gaze, unblinking, before he utters a sigh, tension breaking when he runs a hand over his face. “Are they gettin’ themselves into danger? I don’t doubt it. But in all this ye must remember one thing; it’s their decision in th’ end. They’re old enough t’ make up their own minds, an’ it seems that in this, they already have. ‘s much as I’d wish t’ spare ye any concern or pain.” 

His truth is no less irrefutable than her own, and it births in her a frustration that leaves her shaking. It swells within her chest, clawing at her throat, and for a moment it seems as though only a scream might release it, some great cry that will right the world and restore what security she once had guarded. 

Dignity forces her to swallow it, a sensation akin to ragged glass crawling down her throat to settle molten and heavy in her gut. Pride steadies the shaking in her shoulders, and she lowers her pointed finger.

“I cannot dispute that.” For all the effort she puts into the words, she cannot hide how fragile they make her feel, how helpless. What good is a mother when her sons are grown? She cannot force them to heed her fears, cannot expect them to think first of her and then of their people. “Or trust that I surely would.”

Her shoulders droop with the weight of a sigh, and straighten again on her next inhale. “But as surely as they must--as you must, as I must--attend to the duties we cannot forsake, I too must consider my children. I cannot be asked to weigh their safety against their honor, against the future of our people, against my brother’s hopes for homecoming. It is too great a burden, and there is no answer to it. I do not know how to answer my own desires, to have both honorable sons and sons that I need not fear for. I know only that I cannot lose my children. If you cannot offer me certainty, I must find use for useless hope. Please. Do what you can to keep them safe.” 

[khazadbitch-blog]

fundinson:

khazadbitch liked your post:Friendly reminder that @charyka and I once…

well look you here

I’m looking and all I see is an egghead