#allmuse

[stlucy-a]

*    ⊰    @allmuse​  /  mannimarco    ⊱    𝔭𝔩𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔡  𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔯  .

HER  FINGERS  CURL  IN  SOFT  GRAVE  DIRT  ,   it’s  embedded  under  her  nails  ,   clinging  to  her  hair  and  staining  her  dress  .   lucy  coughs  again  ,   summoning  air  into  lungs  that  were  nearly  atrophied  .   she  still  feels  dead  ,   even  as  the  blood  swirls  around  her  beating  heart  once  more  .   lucy  lifts  her  head  ,   her  red  curls  falling  in  her  eyes  .   unsteadily  ,   she  brushes  them  away  .    ❝    that  was  violent  .    ❞

[alldaddyarchive]

@allmuse​ gets a starter bc she’s queen

                    It had been a long while since he’d been gone from Asgard unwillingly. The mission into Jotunnheim had not gone as planned, leaving many injured even though the battle had been won. With a soldier’s arm draped over his shoulder, Odin helped the man through the gates and into the palace, where he knew the man would be taken well care of. The wound was not fatal, but it could turn that way, if it were to be left unattended. The recovery would be long for him, as the Alfodir himself knew from experience.                          The battle this time around had left his unscathed - a small miracle as Odin often came home the worst injured out of everyone; he still had a hard time knowing when to stop. As he walked up the steps towards the great hall, he noticed plenty of people on ladders, as well as other workers tending to the walls, columns and beams. Brows furrowed at the sight, turning his attention forward to see Frigga speaking to another with great purpose. With little care for anything else, he interrupted the conversation, ❝Does my wife no longer await her husband’s return from battle? ❞ The inquiry was spoken at high volume, echoing through the hall, though it held no aggression, only playfulness.

[stlucy-a]

*    ⊰    @allmuse​  /  sithis    ⊱    𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔟𝔞𝔩  . ↳    👕  tug  on  my  muse’s  sleeve / shirt / skirt .

IT’S  ALWAYS  COLD  ,   HER  LAND  IS  SUNLESS  AND  BLOOD - SOAKED  .   but  lucy  feels  a  pull  on  her  taffeta  skirt  and  it  is  like  coming  home  .   she  smiles  ,   a  soft  ,   sad  smile  and  turns  her  eyes  to  the  shadows  .   there  is  no  one  there  ,   but  that  is  not  to  say  there  is  nothing  .

❝    dread - father  ?    ❞    lucy’s  voice  is  sly  and  soft  ,   a  lilting  laugh  that  goes  unsung  somewhere  in  the  back  of  her  throat  .    ❝    sweet  father  ,   where  are  you  ?    ❞

[orihibae]

' oh? have you reconsidered being my research subject? '                                                             @allmuse​  ft.  mayuri  kurotsuchi

               “     i don’t remember having considered it in the first place,    taichou.     ”           surely she wasn’t interesting enough to warrant being a test subject for one already so knowledgeable.          “     can i interest you some science projects instead?     ”

[fujinnomai]

“   you  think  your  only  crime  is  that  you  got  caught .   ”                             (  @allmuse​  ft.  renkotsu  )

                     “    do   you    still    measure    crimes    by    the    human    scale,  mercenary?    that’s    quite    hypocritical   of    you.    ”

                       arms   remain    folded    over    her    chest,    leaning    against   the    trunk    of    a    tree,    Kagura’s    eyes    glance   up    at    the    nightsky    (   the    stars    have    hidden    away    tonight,    a    storm   is    brewing    near    ),   and    as    her    nose    catches    the    scent    of   impeding    rain,    her    brows    furrow    as    the    corpse’s   statement    resonates    within    her    mind.    She    has   killed,    tricked,    cheated    and    seduced    –    humans   do    it    all    the    time,    yet    they    still    seem    to   carry    some    sort    of    conscious   burden   about    their    crimes.    To    them,    the    very    concept   of    crime   seems    to    exist    and   be    therefore    punishable    –   she   has    no    knowledge    of    morality,    Kagura    lives   because    of    Naraku’s    innermost    hatred    and    venom.

“                I   would’ve    thought    you’d    thrown    away    that    way  of    thinking    even    before    you    were    killed.    ”   sardonic    is    her    tone,    raise    of    her    thin    brow   denotes    obvious    mockery    at    the    man    before    her   –    his    hands    are    tainted    by    blood,    hers   are    too.    The    difference    lies    in    the    fact    that   he    was    once    a    man    of    flesh    and    bone,   and    a    soul    that,    by   popular    belief,   could    be    damned    to    eternal    unrest.    Kagura    has   nothing    of    the    sort,    “    I   don’t    think    I    have    committed    any    crimes,   because    that’s    just    a    human   perception.    human    laws    and    morality    mean    little  to    me,    ”    she    lacks    a    heart,    therefore    she   lacks    blood,    and    she    lacks    a    soul,    therefore  she    cannot    be    judged    by    anyone    or    anything.   She   simply    …    exists,   “   still,    i’m    shocked    you    talk    about    this    as   if    you    haven’t    slaughtered    men    and    women    and  children    simply    out    of    greed.    ”

[inerevarine]

@allmuse​ sent a courier :   "my lips were made to meet yours." // Vehk

𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛.  vane watches them intently as they reflect off of multicolored eyes; gold and red with depths that could rival the sea of ghosts itself.  as always, a book was perched in the nerevarine's lap, but they weren't paying attention to it-- the words on the page were long forgotten, the contents of any book paling in comparison to the living god that sat so close to them.  for once, they thought, they didn't quite feel like reading.

absent-minded, fingers skimmed the worn page of their book.  for a brief moment, vane broke eye contact to glance down at it, half out of modesty.  in truth, holding vehk's stare left them breathless in a way they could not pinpoint nor immediately describe, and their chest rose and fell visibly beneath their dreugh's cuirass.  though as they dared to glance up again, he'd moved, and wisps of blue fire reflected in their eyes as he crossed crossed the already scarce distance between them, his movements as fluid as the most graceful of dancers-- where to look, they knew not, and thus their gaze first fell to the book again as color crawled into their ears.  expression softened from its usually stoic facade into something decidedly gentle on their war torn visage.

this was something new.  exciting.  it was not unlike the exhilaration they felt before a battle, though there was a distinct clenching in their stomach that felt new.  it had them by the chest, the heart, the throat-- it was hard to breathe, and they felt almost sadistic for enjoying it.  ivory lashes fluttered, and they gazed up at the god through them as he spoke, so close they could reach out and touch him, if they wanted to.  as it was, though, they didn't have to-- didn't have to do anything, as he leaned in, speaking close to their tattered ear.  my lips were made to meet yours.

he always did have a talent of surprising them.  they never knew what to expect.  that was half the fun of it, wasn't it?

vaneyyn clutched the book close to their chest, its cover long since closed, and only then did they realize their back was already meeting a wall.  no backing away here, nor changing the subject--  it wasn't as if this feeling, whatever it was that hung in the air between them, wasn't mutual.  they weren't an entirely subtle creature themselves, but even so, it was hard to truly corner them.

unless one literally did just that.  for a brief moment, they glanced at the colors that danced across the floors, and then back up into vivec's eyes-- mismatched, like their own. 

❝ -- then... ❞   a pause, and vane wet their lips without thinking.  when they spoke, their voice was low, quiet, and ald-chimeris rolled off their tongue, careful and husky.   ❝ --are you going to kiss me now, vehk? ❞

[ivakir]

2, 7, 27, 38

THE BE HONEST MEME.

Are aesthetics important to you? If they are, why?

  To be honest, the graphic part of roleplaying doesn’t make any sense at all. Yeah, I like these aesthetics boards and I sometimes make them, too, but let’s be honest: they are useless, they are not important at all in roleplaying, where the main point is writing. I understand when people want everything to look beautiful, but when at the same you don’t write, then what’s the point of all this aesthetic stuff? If you can’t roleplay without aesthetic stuff, like, icons, theme and etc., you feel that you won’t be a “true roleplayer” without this stuff, then it’s sad. 

  Though, I understand why you can’t feel yourself a “true roleplayer”. Because rpc here relies on an aesthetic stuff. No one will be interested in you if you don’t have a pretty theme, icons and other stuff. And it’s sad when most people are interested more in your graphics than in your writing. I talk here from my experience, so if you have more positive experience, then it’s cool.

What’s your opinion on call out posts?

  If they are made for an important reason, like, someone steals someone else’s content (though it’s a question what is an original content when everyone “borrows” from each other headcanons, icon styles and etc.), spreads hate (literal hate, not “it’s toxic to have a different opinion”), then yes, those are normal reasons for a callout post. But I laugh at most callout posts I see here, because people, who make these callout posts, tear out phrases from context, trying hard to create an impression that the person they chose for a callout post is very bad. Yes, that is what these callout posts look like - pulling phrases from context and, my favorite, looking for posts from 2007 and cutting phrases from there. As if a person can’t change their opinion in 12 years. They are funny to read. They are very long sometimes. Like, ten pages of total nonsense.

Do you follow people even if they don’t follow you back?

  I usually follow someone for a week or a little more, and if they don’t follow me back, then I will unfollow. I just don’t like the mess on my dashboard.

What advice would you give to someone new to rp?

RUN

  Okay, it’s a joke, but I have been thinking about this one for too long and I don’t know what advice I can give. Be responsible and respect other people’s time, don’t be lazy to send a meme to your fellow roleplayer if they reblog the one and if you have a bad memory or many threads or all together, get yourself a document where you will write what threads you owe / people owe you. No, you don’t turn rp into a job this way, but having a certain order is helpful and less stressful.

[inerevarine]

@allmuse​ sent a courier : “Justice is vengeance in prettier packaging” // from rhuun

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚗.   justice never sleeps ; that’s what the ordinators said, and was their cause not noble and just?  to call it vengeance sounded so... ugly.  that was dunmer politics, though.  young as they were, they still knew that much.  it was a game of treachery at best, and the honest weren’t usually the ones that came out on top.  in an ideal world, maybe.

❝ -- then what do people want revenge for? because it makes them feel better? ❞

various sentence starters    //    open!