#taliaromanova

[gravesung]

34. Have you ever cried while writing a reply?

the be honest meme!! // @taliaromanova / @koseigu

FUCKING ABSOLUTELY. FOR SURE. i'm pretty positive i sobbed while writing a particular hellhound reply for @crowshoots (admittedly in discord) where adeo had come back and persephone was trapped again but visited jesper just for a chance to see his face, and they spilled their whole backstory and auuaughhrbhgjr GOD.

also for rio, there was def a keon reply or two that got me there. my angsty fuckers... man.......

all this is to say, i'm a crybaby. i cry Often, including at rp replies. it's the way of the raine.

[nightmarefuele]

@taliaromanova we're so fucking peak.

You cannot hold back the tide with a spade.

Nor can the spade compel the tide along; when is an ocean not an ocean. When is a gift not a gift.

The Order has lost all hooks as well as worms. The galaxy grows restive, dogged by no more than generational animus, the rancor of women and men who've never known mud. Finery and folly are two hands conjoined; Snoke has become as he was always meant to be: a head, bloated with trifles. Nonsense, what glimmers sweetly.

While under the underbellies of new revolution stewing. . . .

"A body is a body, no more."

And he is a sepulcher. And he is a voice, Cracked rib of some abyssal gleam.

The skin would say, Wasteful.

The Diae would wonder, Love?

The axis would wait.

Now, a helm but arbits as though from a mirror. Black, and dreadful sea, that glowers 'low the sands of skies and moon from a drooping, patient anatomy.

In liquid voice that slips stars, worlds,

A body is a body no more.

[broarrow]

Clint n' Nat // continued ( x ) @taliaromanova

Clint snatches the pillow mid-air without even looking, a lazy flick of his wrist like he’s catching an arrow off course. He brings it to his chest and holds it, patting it twice (well, more spanking it twice).

“Could you imagine? Me as a therapist? Doctor Barton.” Yeah, he didn’t even have a high school diploma. "I don't even have insurance. Can you be a doctor if you don't have insurance? What if I let my patients pay in skittles."

He grins and stretches out like a lazy cat. Her stare is unimpressed and he knows she’s killed men for less. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is. You’re kinda a jackass for actin’ like you don’t need me.” Clint doubles down on his stance.

“I shared half my fries with you.” He says it like that means more than anything else they’ve been through together. Clint sits up and leans in toward her, gaze softening. He stops holding her and the world at arm’s length for a second. “You could let me in. I mean, I’ve already seen all the scary parts and I still wanna makeout.”

He flops back again and kicks the emotional quicksand and his soft gaze to the curb. “That pillow throw was shitty form, by the way. We’re gonna have to run drills.”

[howlrs]

7, 8, 9 for the oc asks!

oc questions! // @koseigu / @taliaromanova

7. favorite animal? why?

1. horses. seph is a horse notgirl. hard to say why, honestly, it just sort of developed that way after i wrote a war-veteran horse-therapy verse for her and it clicked with her super well?? which is unusual because seph and animals DO NOT mix most of the time. like other people's pets? she tolerates them. they tolerate her (maybe).

which was the same situation w/ the horses in that verse, because they sure as hell can sense human stress!!! and seph sure is constantly in a state of tightly-wound stress!! but slowly w the help of the other muse they learned from each other and seph was able to do a lot of healing. wails.

anyway i think that's where it comes from on a meta level. but if you asked her, it's because they're useful and elegant SJDHSKDB

2. her other favorite is crows, because they're smart and contrary to every other animal, they actually like her. she shares the rooftops with them, after all, and at their core seph is a respectful creature, even if they give off canine-predator vibes. crows give her chances that most others do not. now they bring her things and she carries peanuts around in a little squirrel-proof bag for 'em

8. do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?

seph is the obvious one, which was started by their twin brother orion and just sorta stuck! everyone calls them seph. unless they're not allowed to, and enough punches to the teeth get the point across eventually.

@bcdomens' shuni calls them princess because of their Dark Rapunzel hair <3 'dog' or 'mutt' is pretty common because of the Way she Is, 'pup' less so but still happens. @spiritcrown's pasha calls her perse/percy as well :) i'm probably missing a lot here, those are a couple that came to mind!

i'm always so so so excited when a muse gives seph a new nickname. like please. call them things. please. i love it so much.

9. favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

s-tier foods: oyakodon. also one of the few things she can probably cook with her eyes closed. honey-roasted almonds from street carts. raspberry pastries.

runner-ups: she's also fond of taiyaki, ketchup rice/chicken rice, tamagoyaki, hot pot of all kinds, and (as of recently, thanks @dogmawd) congee. also loves fruit!! especially citrus, peaches, pre-cut pineapple, and berries. raspberry jam straight from the jar. big fan of refined carbs, too, moreso for the energy boost than the taste unless they're prepared well. i think seph would enjoy ochazuke if she tried it.

least favorite: ANYTHING STICKY. DO NOT MAKE HER TOUCH AND THEREFORE EAT STICKY THINGS. this includes melty shit like ice cream, fruits you have to peel like mangoes (pre-cut is fine), etc. anything that will gunk up the seams of her prosthetics. fuck that. not a big fan of greasy, dairy-heavy or deep-fried foods.

seph is, besides a few sensory-nightmare exceptions, not a picky eater. the foods listed above that she likes are primarily sourced from her pre-disappearance fuckshit preferences (so like ages 16-21), as her pursuit of enjoyment/sensation died out after said fuckery, and she's p much been subsisting on protein shakes, hard liquor and multivitamins since. KJSDFSDF

no dietary restrictions per se! all i can think of is the digestive discomfort with heavy foods being the cause of her dislike for them. which can be worked around if the food is tasty enough. some long-dead repressed part of her really enjoys cooking and trying new things, just! things didn't work out that way.

[eldestoften]

𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇   𝐎𝐑   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒  the king of curses.

smash or pass

"......Ignoring all of history, potentially smash. Considering history, however.............."

[prettytm]

[ofovertime]

shoko says: pro, we're really good at it. con, we're too good at it

"We would be the two who fucked like rabbits."

pro and one cons || accepting @taliaromanova

[mxlevolence]

Danny leans against the kitchen entrance with arms folded across his chest—only it's less folding and more a caressing of the elbows in each hand. Natasha, ever patient and gentle, is looking at him with an expression he is all too familiar with these days. One he cannot correctly translate even if forced to give name to it—like those words in different languages that encapsulate whole feelings and experiences. Things that can only be felt rather than described.

( He thinks, as he has time and time again, that her life would be infinitely better if he had let the Entity kill him. That this would not be so complicated if he'd just let Death have him. )

"Whatever you desire, it's yours." / accepting ! / @taliaromanova

The cold, horrifying truth is that he does not know. Detached from the being he once was—the Ghostface that writhed beneath his skin—Danny floats off into an endless void. No direction, no concept of his surroundings. Existence at its rawest and purest form, untainted by dreams, goals, and desires, those things that otherwise fuel a meaningful life. Natasha may not know the extent of his apathy. Only a taste of it, the knowledge that there exists within him an extinguished candle which had once blazoned brilliantly. Or, more rightly, a smothered bonfire, its charred remnants of logs—ground to charcoal ash—the only proof that there ever existed a fire at all.

He looks at his hands in the midst of a palm-up shrug ( the bags beneath his eyes are like bruised patches ) and frowns. He'd already been frowning ( there were few moments he wasn't not frowning ), but now the line deepens.

"I don't know what I desire anymore," he admits in a whisper, too low to be heard lest ears are listening. There are no strong feelings within him. No yearning for Death in any form, personal or otherwise. No desire to kill. Just a void. A black hole swallowing any semblance of self before he can claim it for his own.

The exhale of his sigh comes from a real mouth, not distorted through a modulator to be heard through a layer of vinyl. Everything is so exposed, now. Bared to the unforgiving light of reality. He rubs an eye with the knuckle of his index finger ( there is not even the desire to rip the organ from its socket ), thinks, that's not the answer you were probably looking for but doesn't say it aloud.

When he speaks again, it's at a normal pitch and a decidedly certain tone, "I want a Big Mac."