#xoline

[moderor]

are ossy & lacie twins?

maybe, maybe not. either way, ossy is older 😈

them being twins would mirror the alices situation so well though!!!

[nightbins]

🚕 my most embarrassing roleplay moment, 🔥 my hot take about the roleplaying community, 🌸 the blog/s that most inspires me

🚕 my most embarrassing roleplay moment

tbh idek if i have one but i have sent asks to blogs i thought i was mutuals with, so i guess that ? or accidentally unfollowing someone lol

🔥 my hot take about the roleplaying community

i think it's kind of sad how . . . exclusive and clique-y it's kind of become. of course i'm not saying people can't have friends and not give their friends priority bc that's not what i'm saying at all, and it's not like this is a new thing either, but it just feels like sometimes people aren't really welcoming or open to interacting with new people

🌸 the blog/s that most inspires me

to name just a few: @armofgod, @burynot, @proditeur, @2814s and @hoodred

my experiences in the rpc ━ accepting

[xorcists]

TENSION   LINER   PROMPTS     | @xoline "You’re playing with my patience."

❝ Doesn't sound like it was stable to begin with.❞ Prism retorts, levitating there above the woman, her eyes glowing as she begins to mentally poke and prod into Punchline's consciousness with searing accuracy. ❝ I'm taking you in. My suggestion is to just give up───I won't even ask you to come quietly. I don't want to hurt you, don't make a choice you can't step back from.❞ Prism doesn't need to delve deep to discover how compromised the woman is, but the option is provided before it's removed entirely.

[villainoustm]

@xoline whispered “ I’m going to paint the walls with your blood. ” ( to Harley )

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── C'mon, Quinn, ya've gotten outta harder spots. Harley grunts, straining at the rope tied around her wrists. Granned, ya've never been up against another killer clown. Whaddaya know.  ❛ Aww Punchie, and here I thought ya didn't like me! Didja get me a birthday present, too? Lemme guess...a knife? Ya gonna start with the gut or the leg? ❜

  ❛ C'mon, I gotta teach a class at nine, ❜ Harley whines. ❛ An' I'm not 25 anymore, yenno. I gotta at least get in a 2 hour nap! ❜

[razumov]

@xoline continued.

Rain had stopped a while ago; fell in a thin, cold drizzle, nothing like the heavy, dramatic downpours of St. P. but enough to make the wooden planks of the old pier slick and treacherous. The lights of the city across the water flickered like dying stars.

The place reminded him of home more than he'd want. Not the one that ended up on covers of tourist brochures, no —— the one he lived in when the Soviet was coughing up blood. Back then he was just a scrawny kid in that orphanage near the Gulf of Finland. Fourteen-fifteen years old. Nights when the supervisors were drunk or gone, kids would sneak down to the commercial port. The docks were beautiful in their own rotting way, especially when skies were colored bright and air was so cold you could bite it. Containers stacked like crooked teeth, cranes that looked like hanged men against the white nights. The Neva smelled of fuel oil, wet wood, brimestone and more. Gangs, smugglers, ex-military guys selling whatever fell off the trucks from the dying factories. Boys would trade stolen cigarettes for stories, or watch them dump things that weren’t supposed to be seen. Here the water may not be warmer, but it is lazier. Holds onto the bodies longer, he'd bet.

Drowning was a popular mode of getting rid of people back home, so why not here? Most popular mode, in fact, though the media would disagree —— his home city was lovingly nicknamed Dismembermentgrad by it after all. The police could claim all they wanted that St. P. didn't make it even into top 10 cities with dismemberment crimes, the image stuck. Nor for nothing: Razum clearly remembers skipping class to loiter in the Yusupov Garden only to come across black bags and thankfully being smart enough not to check what's in there but turn around and quickly leave. The joke about girls from St. P. being rather good at sharing men has nothing to do with the city's highly developed erotic culture either. So can you blame him for wondering if the girl talking about throwing away a suitcase tied to her ex could actually be throwing away her ex?

Gotham’s one of the few places chaotic enough that a guy with his skillset and a very particular set of “talents” can disappear —— plus, the black market for tech and untraceable weapons here is legendary. He wouldn't be here at this hour for any other reason but quiet arms-and-tech contact arranged through dark web channels —— someone willing to trade untraceable biometric spoofers and a few “exotic” chemicals for cryptocurrency that couldn’t be followed. He'd perfer not to meet the guy face to face at all, it's not his style, but right now he can't be choosey. So there he is, the edge of Pier 47 at 3:47 AM, hands in the pockets of a worn black coat, hood up, mask covering his lower face, no flamethrower gloves for once, entertaining whatever this farce of a conversation is.

He wouldn't have spoken to her if they didn't run into each other at such close proximity. But he clearly witnessed something he shouldn't have, and his pride wouldn't let him pretend to be blind, deaf and dumb at the same time. Not when she was this rude.

“ Not to worry, miss —— I've had chances to jump off from far prettier bridges, ” if not of St. P. then of Venice; self-annihilation was never even a possibility in his mind, no matter how fractured, “ you go take care of whatever needs taking care of; I've got someone to meet here. ”

Razum wouldn't snitch on her, but he also wouldn't move away. He had an agreement to meet here and wouldn't risk it going sideways.

[moderor]

“shut that oversized chicken up.” ( IM SORRY )

𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐔𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝟑 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 | accepting | @xoline

“ I —— chicken !? ” her voice did the unusual, rising an octave at the phrasing. Insults towards her she understood and expected, but insults towards an existence older than this little world —— a very concious and clever existence at that —— was beyond madness, especially when the said being was thrashing uncontrollably.

“ Perhaps, if you behaved a bit better, none of us would have to suffer this ! ” Ossia grabbed one of the chains that went around Raven's throat and pulled it downwards in an attempt to bring the Chain's attention back to the matter at hand, ignoring the heat searing through her hand. Punchline reacted poorly to the discovery of Raven's existence and did the next logical thing after concluding that bullets were useless —— brought out toxins.

The silver lining is: she wasted so much in self defense that she most likely ran low on stock, potentially sparing many and reducing the number of affected in the future. However, that also meant that now Ossia had a disoriented and highly offended firey bird on her hands, which was shaking its head and spewing flames in an attempt push out whatever gas made its way into his nostrils. The toxin would have no effect on Raven, but it was still an unpleasant experience, judging by the Chain's prattle of threats aimed at Punchline.

Whatever he chooses to do with you for this, I'll let him. was Ossia's thought amidst the blue flames.

[mad-hunts]

@xoline asked for a dollmaker based starter, and so they shall get one... MUAH

whenever it came to relations between barton and the rest of the rogues, there were several minute reasons as to why he didn't like dr. crane, and several big ones — one of them being on display right now as orange smoke permeated the air around them and this was because, at the worst of times, scarecrow seemed to be a prime example of the phrase 'there is no honor among thieves.' the streets of gotham were indiscriminately flooded with his fear toxin in what was perhaps labeled the 'bad side of town' (the east end) and, because one of barton's hideouts was indeed a basement apartment, it naturally crept right through the insulation in his house (but not before him and matilda, his daughter, were able to grab respirator masks they kept around for more acid bath circumstances but it would still work for this).

the dollmaker was keeping one hand intertwined in matilda's then as they rushed to try to get somewhere actually above ground level and hopefully, where the gas hadn't reached. barton could barely see through the gas in the air, as it was, on his motorcycle but he took himself that is what driving defensively was for. the doctor drove all the way to an old, abandoned rehab facility then (ironically enough, wayne enterprises had stopped funding this one at some point and so it went down the shitter, getting shutdown within just six months of losing that funding) that he had set up shop in once or twice because it had three floors to it and entered it... only to be faced with who he only knew as punchline. right in the middle of a scarecrow attack, too, even if this area didn't seem nearly as badly impacted as the previous one he'd been in.

barton could feel his daughter's eyes looking into his in a way that said 'just give me the go-ahead and i'll get rid of them' before he turned to look at matilda. something in french was exchanged that matilda seemed to want to argue with at first, but then barton doubled down on it, and she stomped to a room instead of the open living area on the third floor. the respirator on barton's face was soon thrown to the ground unceremoniously then and he took a deep breath, blowing off some dust on the fridge in the place only to take a look inside to check his now current inventory. if he got lucky, maybe some things wouldn't be expired, he thought as he looked over the labels of vials and finally addressed the elephant in the room. punchline. ❝ alright, razzmatazz the second, why are you here and give me one reason why i shouldn't throw you out to suck down a bountiful portion of that fear gas outside? ❞

punchline, or for whatever reason as he labeled her, razzmatazz the second was about the last person that he needed to see right now. its not as if she'd ever been particularly helpful towards him and vice versa. barton took a deep breath as he could see only two things out of the entire fridge were still good, an audible 'shittt' coming from him. ❝ god, if i knew this place would be such a disappointment, i would've just taken my chances with going to the docks. so yeah, take that to say that i am not in a good mood! so you have about exactly a minute to answer my questions, or you'll be making the same sound wile e. coyote makes when he's about to fall at least several dozen feet and eat concrete. ❞

[worldsokayestdad]

oh man, your portrayal !!!!!!!! your brucie is so loved, it's obvious. u bring such unique depth to him that i love reading your threads that have nothing to do with me LOL ( 🪑 <- me sat in the cuck chair of your replies ). ur prose & formatting is so aesthetic, vast, never empty & full of consideration. it's so obvious u love brucie & writing him, its a joy to see u on my dash 🫶♥️

pls. not the cuck chair. i'm just going to keep you in my pocket now. thank you. ( also gonna squeeze it in here now that im so glaaad you've brought alexis back from the void cause man, i just thought she was such an interesting character and you're living up to the dream! can't wait to write them more in shenanigans. )

﹥beep beep how's my portrayal ?