[maurilyan]

Visit Original Link

    ⋆. 𐙚 ̊ 𝙈𝘼𝙐𝙍𝙄𝙇𝙔𝘼𝙉 , a selective and private ( highly adaptable ) roleplay blog. written for independent original character, 𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐘𝐀, 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳. developed within my original lore: inspired by korean folklore / history & dungeons and dragons. anti wotc and racial alignment. adult themes present, 21+, mutuals only. previously moonsworn and dweomerr. spells casted by 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐇 , 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 / 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 , 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞.

⁰¹ 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ⁰² 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 ⁰³ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ⁰⁴ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 ⁰⁵ 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑 ⁰⁶ 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 ⁰⁷ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 ⁰⁸ 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒

   𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. there is suffering and then more suffering. it’s better to expect it, you know. you’re becoming a woman now, so you should be told this. for a woman, the man you marry will determine the quality of your life completely. a good man is a decent life, and a bad man is a cursed life━━ BUT NO MATTER WHAT, always expect suffering, and just keep working hard. no one will take care of a poor woman: just ourselves. &. 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. if we love our lord, not just admire him or fear him or want things from him, we must recognize his feelings; he must be in anguish over our sins. we must understand this anguish. the lord suffers with us. he suffers like us. it is a consolation to know this. to know that we are not in fact alone in our suffering.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 . . . baroviana, svetle, embodies, deathprop

𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 , 𝐀𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 ; being plagued by unrelenting nightmares. to forever be defined as the 'other'. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 + 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐄. being trapped in the middle as an elder sibling (who am i destined to chose?). the dichotomy of being mixed race &. how it makes you the uncanny valley. 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇. learning how to love a god as an act of defiance. how the arcane has rules that are meant to be broken. no please, you're my sister: don't despise me! let me die with you and sanctify our dead.

[maurilyan]

IM GOING TO THE CLUB TONIGHT FOR THE FIRST TIME GIVE ME YOUR BEST ADVICE

[maurilyan]

im off to go see the back to the future musical that i bought tickets for LAST YEAR. lets just say i am very excited

[maurilyan]

GO WHITE BOYS GOOO !!!!!!! HAPPY FUCKING PRIDE !!!!!!!!!!

[maurilyan]

i’m really missing being here and all my friends so pleaseee like this and i’ll write you a starter & get into ur dms for some plotting !!!!

[toddsolondz]

destroying and betraying yourself for nothing all by yourself, handsome?

[maurilyan]

should they feel like an intruder? when they wake up the next day, whole body hurt with tension, cold and hunger, and still peel the thick canvas of his tent back to the peaking rays of the coming dawn. they are plagued with such silent laughter, trained to harden their eyes and lower their head. they have approached very carefully, with little sudden movements, few steps and a mere glance in his direction: ageless form through the construction of stained glass, made by human hands.

they can appreciate beauty, but the moonlight that had crested the cracks of their shelter had accused them of dismissal, that they were running out of time. that whatever was growing stronger in the pity of their stomach was blushing complete clarity. they have found each other filthy, malnourished and weak, and still this food of panic lingers in the most unlikely places: treating each other's wounds, taking care of one another.

waking each other in apparent protection. staving off hunger.

@palespawn , ❝ oh, please! it’s ten in the morning. ❞

❝ i have been waiting for you for hours. please, be an ad-ult. get up now, before we run out of daylight and lose our minds listening to you snore. ❞ with folded legs and dusty knees they sit at the now opening, barricade and gated. close behind, a large woolen sack dragged into view, the babble sounds of a growing cache. ❝ will you put your nimble fingers to work? we can not keep carrying around such a trove any longer. besides, i am sure one of these will have more letters from those guild associates. might come in handy when entering the city. ❞

they reach towards him, lithe plight grabs ahold of the end of his blanket to give it a tug before quickly releasing. ❝ seriously, geeeeet upppppp. ❞

[peachdoxie]

I love characters who are extremely hypercompetent and simultaneously massive losers

[citrines]

SUNMI CYNNICAL, MV TEASER 2

[maurilyan]

@baroviana , [09.] a tent in the middle of nowhere where no one can hear anything. / eheheheHE

they are conjoined at their stomachs, the rapid cuff of skin clashing, then retreating, and clashing once more. the impression of her knee against their shoulder, them pulling her thighs further apart with their own, pressing bruises into the softness of her flesh. the sound of slick, sliding sheaths unveiled into each other, folding over each other, enveloping warmth. they have been here for hours, tandem of their voices carrying into the forest around them, the emptiness for miles. for where they have traveled through the daylight, they have found respite in the others chest, the curve of their bellies, the swell cupped in their sex. they have both found relief in each other, with the wetness of tongue and the prying of fingers, and chasing for another against each others cunts.

one hand of theirs grasps against her riding hip, digging until they find bone, maintaining her there and pulling her ever closer. guiding her against themself, pushing back and forth, back and forth once more. ❝ a'maelamin━ ❞ ( my beloved ), choked out, forced out into the air that is dense with their intimacy, the air that quivers around her naked body. their features wince as they hold her to a stop, as if they are pained to do so, eyes shooting down to her barren, stifling. a whine slips through their lips regardless.

then they move to kiss her. the twisting of bodies until they are laying on their back and they sit her atop them across their waist. the collection of remaining light travels to the tips of their fingers, a whisper of the arcane. briefly when they lift her above and she is spread, an incantation takes a hold of their space, their lonesome tent in these woods, and in place of the mound that presses against her own, their length spreads to find her. the tip covers itself in her dew, their fingers around its base are now slowed, lazy, pumping her own wetness throughout. they do it all while looking up at her now, the wave of her breast, the fucked look on her face.

one hand holds the underside of her thigh upwards, strength remaining to still her position, and the other against themselves. they run its already drooling head over her opened slit, hips digging into the earth for relief. it comes upwards against her swollen bud, and they harshly thud the cock twice against her furor. impatient and amused.

❝ come now, amastacia ( star flower ). ride me once more. ❞

[maurilyan]

she has the scent of iron. and everytime leitha walks past her they smell it. it mixes with the flames of a fire, embers weak on the tips of her hair: it raptures them into a trance. as she, bare and spotless, moves as though she is levitating, and they are fleeting, always running, as though they are witnessing a miracle. the long night has been filled with dancing, the clinking of glasses, all champagne tongues and whiskey neats. their collar, once stifling, has been loosened with inhibitions, unbuttoned and dangling. they are leaning against the window sill of this high rise, this apartment under their name in the belly of a city they have learned to tango with, in a suit that cost vanishes without a showing of pain. and the spider has been waiting for their return, and she slinks and slows, and she asks them about their night over their shoulder.

@embodies , [ TOY ] sender fidgets with something receiver is wearing while receiver talks to them (widow)

her nails grapple against the base of their throat. it finds the knot of their tie and tugs, begins to pull it apart. leitha holds out their hand to touch her, seeking even the slightest contact. it is practically instinctual, the way their elbow bows and bends inwards, how they look at her through the veil between them that makes it hard to breathe. there is a tether that pulls, and pushes further still, like an invisible burden. it proceeds to ask what they are willing to sacrifice, and how far they are willing to bleed to get what they want. she rolls the fabric between her fingers, again and again, breathing the hot particles that slip off their neck slick. she is lightning held tight by a blackened sky, a beautified catastrophe.

the humidity in the room is thickened, and with the terminality of a disease, their hands find the slope of her hips. they hold her between their legs, and they look up at her, and she still plays with the silk of their tie. fingers begin to clench, and they pull her down into them, and they kiss her. it is rhythmic, deliberate. it is as if their kiss was apart of an endless howl, all habitual and routine. they covered their mouth with her own as if they were on the verge of a nightmare, in the center of a predators nest. they can hardly bring themselves to touch her, but the blinding night never cared for their submission. they inhaled her sweet smell, swallowed it into their lungs.

they say ( whisper ) it into her mouth: ❝ do you truly wish to hear more about my night? is that why you waited for me here? ❞

[maurilyan]

their skin is translucent yellow. moonlight passes through, diffusing them. you can see the mercy lodging itself underneath their ribs, silent dynamite readying itself with no chance of gathering the remaining pieces once it goes off. they are crouched down together, side by side, hunger and exhaustion traversing at their heels. they are so close to the ground they can hear the sounds of the dawning earth, the delicate work of the insects crushed underneath their boots. there are messages hidden in the roots of the trees that overhang above them, hoping to explain that this encapsulated mercy will be the death of them. that without this mercy they will survive.

@warplanet , ❝ we go after this damn thing, together. ❞ (simon)

he speaks with a golden voice that moves through them like a ghost. a wolf on its hind legs and they, like a lost deer, spindle into desperation. with time lapsing, this feeling becomes heightened, and the quietness of the country's forest line stills the beat of their heart. hands find him, anywhere and everywhere all at once, of madness in their attempt to keep him steady, guarded. they have known from far before this moment, that they will protect him, and that no one will take that from them.

they have a phrase for this back at home, something they remember hearing clunking off the walls of their bedroom. soni bari doedorok bilda. 손이 발이 되도록 빌다. i beg you, i beseech you. i'm begging on my hands and knees. i beg until my hands become feet.

❝ no. fuck no. ❞ their many-headed-serpent of sorrow latches on tighter, and they struggle to adapt. instead, they push him down further into the dirt, hidden into the trunk of a tree. there is a strength remaining despite their thirst. ❝ i'll go. i'll be quieter that way. faster too. all i'm going to do is go in and out, and take a few pictures. just to check. we're just checking. you have to stay here. ❞

[maurilyan]

they hear a noise in the hallway. they stop writing, with fingers clawed frozen smelling of deterioration and solitude. there is a candle that flickers on the table beside them, their feet swollen and hard curling into their own legs in the plump of the couch. the dim light forever on the verge of going out: a rigor mortis sets, their ears perked at the sound of light footsteps inching closer. someone opens the door behind them without announcing themselves, with feet striking the ground even when they don't want to be heard. steps are like wildfire, and though leitha doesn't turn to look, with back turned and eyes watching the pages of their notebook fall to a close, the steps fill the space with a storming rage. a dark silhouette violating the night. voiding it.

the room reeked of something dense. dementia and confinement. repulsing off the walls. a void. like the color black: an absence, magnetic &. whispered.

their fingers are stained of red ink. it hides the perpetual tint under their nails. they started using red pens only a few months ago, a definitive punishment. constant, as he is standing at the foot of the lounge, as they are in this dream of buckets and rags. the ones hidden away in the closet next to the bathroom, sterilized and bleached. there is something heavy in the way he breaths, and they look at him in silence, understanding. they feel sick with sin, their throat swollen with a contamination. their fingers stained red.

@karezaru , ❝ you can lie to yourself. ❞

❝ hey, fuck you. ❞ then, added, because they are feeling the affliction, and seen, worn, used like an old t-shirt, borrowed, as if from a charity shop: ❝ ━fuck off. who the hell let you in anyways? ❞

a stretched beat. picking at a scab, spreading the ailment. a sad voice, accepting of such terror. ❝ go home. you're not going to find anything here. ❞

[maurilyan]

the bane of my existence is finding the perfect url and it being taken by a blog that hasn't posted in 13 years. like omg i love this site so much

[maurilyan]

i’m still not normal about o.pla and i think i can write a KILLER usopp . the worms in my brain …. the worms …..

[maurilyan]

entering my i’m not sure when i’ll be here era again since may and june are always so damn busy for me :,(( lotsss of birthdays and holidays during this time, plus i'm studying up for a few tests coming up !! i know i owe a lot, but i'm not forcing writing right now - i will be getting to my messages finally, as i think i'll put my focus there, for now <3<3 tysm for the patience <3<3

[maurilyan]

it's like a "worst of" collection for leitha </3

[maurilyan]

happy aapi month and may the fourth !!! 🥳🫶🏻🥳🫶🏻 i am beyond grateful to have such a strong asian community in the rpc, i never would have thought i would be apart of something like this. i experienced kids in elementary school who pointed, laughed and made me cry over bringing korean food for lunch. i cried to my mom about only bringing sandwiches going forward, and forced her to only buy white bread. this lasted throughout high school and it took many more years into my adulthood to feel comfortable enough to eat in front of people. happy aapi month to all the mixed asians out there, specifically anyone whose never felt asian enough 💜 we’re in this together 💜 thank you for giving me space online to have fun 💜