#cuileandorcha

[eclipsecrowned]

3, 8, 12 // @cuileandorcha

3. What rp trends are you so over and can’t wait for it to die?

Leans in real close. Y'all are part of a community. Y'all actively chose to pursue a hobby that requires collaboration and OOC interaction. Y'all purposely decided to make a blog, reach out over the worldwide web to find strangers who have done the same.

Y'all do not get to be surprised or outraged that these strangers do not align with you 100%.

In fact, there are statistically many strangers who do not agree with your views, your comfort, and your standards. You have to enforce your own boundaries. They are your personal lines in the sand, and you have to draw them, whether as close or distant as you please.

I think pr0 and 4nti discourse is so much bullshit for that reason. Wanna write something? Fucking neato you can do that and block whoever doesn't like it. Don't want to see something? Fucking neato you can block entire tags on this site. Want to write the most fucked up shit imaginable in your own little corner of the internet that oversteps my personal boundary? Wild, I'm going to block you. Want to virtue signal over the dude writing fucked up shit in their corner of the internet when no one is getting hurt but fictional characters? Wild, I'm going to block you. What other people are doing is not your war to fight and if it is something that bleeds into harassment in any form congratulations the site has tools to let staff handle that.

Like I get it, there's parts of me that are reactionary and want some subjects to never be touched by people who want to dig around in what is to me a very raw wound. Then I just listen to my inner Dr. Furter in that it was not made for me. I am one idiot screaming into the void of the internet. My outrage is better spent elsewhere. So is everyone else's. This shit keeps coming back every few years under new names and I am. Tired. I need it to go back to its unquiet grave again.

8. Are you good at dealing with personal problems?

Stares deadass at you.

I stayed friends with S[REDACTED] and K[REDACTED] for how long before it imploded? No.

12. Has someone in the rp community ever made you upset/cry?

This is so cringe but like in a non upset way my ex straight up made me cry over a thread in like a cathartic 'I can really feel for the characters rn this is so sad,' so many years ago. Uhh I think I cried a little when I had to cope with the Big Incident in old C0D fandom with the kids, you know the one. Rage cried once when S[redacted] shut me down with a 'lol that makes me want to commit sudoku' because who in the FUCK does that.

[airxn]

Seisyll has the most judgemental look on their face. "You don't moisturize your beans?"

" Do I LOOK like a pompous house pet to you?? "

[nightsongs]

@cuileandorcha (for areban)

The cut on her arm was deep and long. She'd ripped off part of her skirt to wrap around it to help with the bleeding. It had been a silly accident, really - she'd slipped in the mud and fell, her arm hitting a large, sharp rock jutting out of the dirt.

She asked the trees if there was anywhere nearby she could get it tended to. A healer's home, they said, branches waving in the correct direction. She followed the wind through the leaves until she came across the home. Without hesitation she walked up and knocked on the door with her uninjured arm.

Hopefully they were home. She was a little worried about it becoming infected, since it was deep. "Hello?" Her tail flicked behind her as she waited.

[bolyde]

@cuileandorcha

Shadowheart unflinching stares at Maledos. It's like he's trying to get under her skin. It won't work.

She simply reaches out and taps him back on the nose.

"Boop."

[tcmpestes]

🍒 + my url perhaps?

HI PUPPER! When I first saw that you were a fellow queer in the south I went !!! about it. I still really appreciate the solidarity and always think fondly of gay cowboy culture bc. Yeah. I’m such a fan of your tieflings, and how you draw them, and how you write them!! Every time we get to talk about our lil trio makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. Ty for being such a wonderful presence and rp partner <3

[nectaric]

Looks sideways at Navani and Szeth. Slides The Truth Is A Cave by the Oh Hello's across the table to you.

i want you to know this did like 12 points of psychic damage and i'm still trying to recover

[eclipsecrowned]

Hypnos, by all accounts, does not look comfortable enough to sleep as soundly as he is. The soft sound of his breathing, the way his wings have tucked so softly to the sides of his head, hardly visible past the cloud of hair surrounding them… All offset by the fact that he was sitting up, his head tipped back and one arm tossed over his eyes, his entire body scrunched up with the way it was wedged sideways into the empty space of a window frame - presumably one he'd been looking out of before he'd decide to nap. // @cuileandorcha

She understands, in theory. The flow carrying on down below is rhythmic, even soothing, the longer you gaze upon it. Even the boy Hades had once been fond of staring over it, a peaceful stream in immediate reach for contemplation.

How would her darling boy ever stand a chance against such a spell?

Beautiful things have such power over him, the power to soothe, to render him content. It’s a skill too few of her children possess. For a moment, her warm fingers thread through his curls, summer breeze darting across the clouds. As she maneuvers him, she hums.

The lullaby is older than he is. Older than even the first of Erebus’ children. It was a thing hummed to stranger children than Hypnos, no less loved, but infinitely harder to hold. She moves his arm down, mindful of how stiff his shoulder might be.

One of the twins would do this, she remembers, falling asleep in the oddest places in her realm for a moment’s respite from their other half. Her heart gives a lurch — was it the dead one, or the one who wishes she were dead?

But what’s done is done. She’s never given this one cause to weep or rage. Nyx must be careful now, humming still, as she shifts his head. It is simple enough to tuck a summoned pillow behind him.

He is eternally young. Forever her baby. But the skeleton cares not. Neck pain is eternal.

Satisfied Hypnos is comfortable, she admires her handiwork. Much of him is his father, true, but there are still her own echoes in him. Enough so, she reckons, that Rhea’s youngest was a fool to move against him.

Ah, but he is safe, and sleeping, and no longer likely to awaken with all his bones shrieking in protest. Her work done, there is only the final note of the ancient song, the touch of her hand against his brow, and a silence that rushes to fill the space from which she has disappeared.

[airxn]

@cuileandorcha inquired – "Let me see your paw" - From Dee? (I am suggesting Seisyll commiting gay on gay violence for the reason)

𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, Airin looks away from Dee. Silence lingers in the tense air, but... he soon reluctantly lifts his paw for the dullahan.

" ...It's their fault. " He's quick to place blame, but everyone knows Airin can be antagonistic. Whether his story is believed? Well, he'll roll with the punches, but for now, he does have a little dab of blood on his paw. Meaning– he is the victim!

[kakimushire]

❝ This? It's a personal project. If I wanted you to meddle with it, I would've shared it with you already. Though, you have enough with your own projects. And - if you weren't so busy drinking with Hirako-Taichou, you would've already known what this is. ❞

what uh.. whatcha got there?

[bolyde]

@cuileandorcha

Shadowheart unflinching stares at Maledos. It's like he's trying to get under her skin. It won't work.

She simply reaches out and taps him back on the nose.

"Boop."

[tcmpestes]

i think. serendipity has a very cute giggle that is very charming, but if he laughs too hard he snorts and then gets really embarrassed about it.

What the hell how are u in my mind

[psielapki]

⸻      ♥      𝒕𝒉𝒆   𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓

what’s your literary archetype?

 {   𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦   𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥   𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵   𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭   𝘥𝘪𝘦   𝘢𝘯𝘥   𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳   𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦   𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦   𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭   𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵   𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳   𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰   𝘵𝘩𝘦   𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥   𝘰𝘧   𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.   }   you   want   to   leave   your   mark,   even   if   it's   just   a   small   sign   that   you   were   here.   that   you   were   alive.   oh   but   you   probably   want   it   to   be   original   to   you,   you're   not   interested   in   what   has   already   been   done.   you   want   to   create   something   new,   and   you   wont   truly   rest   until   it   comes   to   fruition.

 tagged   by   :   @einshi,   ages   ago.   thank   you   !!!   mwah   mwah   mwah  tagging   :   @vulpesse   &   @masqueret   for   black   rabbit   hehe,   @sharpsuite   for   ann   :3,   @thehollyverse   for   holly,   @playselect   for   zelda   maybe   !!,   @legendswithin   for   ezreal   annnnd   @cuileandorcha   for   ghost   &   maledos,   &   anyone   who   sees   this   and   would   like   to   do   it   too   (   tag   me   !!!   ).

[bloodedhearts]

Shadowheart shrugs, thinking for a moment. She should be more confident, should trust these Shadow-Cursed Lands because it's Lady Shar's domain. She should feel home and welcomed. And yet... she's feeling uneasy in some ways, and she doesn't know why.

It's not just about her memory loss. She's thinking about her dream of becoming a Dark Justicar, too. It's like she has prepared herself for this during all of her life. At least that's what she thinks so. It's not like she remembers anything that happened before. She doesn't even remember her friends who grew up at her side, other followers of Lady Shar. Why can't she remember ? She feels so stupid, so insecure... She knows the dark lady planned something for her here. She needs to deal with the Nightsong. But how will she do that ? She doesn't even know what it is.

She jumps a bit at his touch, almost as if her friend is bringing her back to reality. "I... I don't know if I've disappointed her yet. But maybe she'll test me. It's her world here, after all..." She sighs. She shouldn't be this nervous about it. She takes a deep breath. "You know... I've never really wondered what my life would be if I didn't become a Dark Justicar. I feel like I have to become one." But does she really want to ? Or is it more that she's supposed to want this ?

"And why shouldn't you be?" The response comes easily, almost as if he'd expected hers. He wasn't going to tell her that she ought to be more confident in this - there was little reason for any of them to be, and lies of such a blatant sort weren't particularly fun as far as deception goes.

Not unless you were telling them to someone more gullible than she was.

No, he's got no real doubts that the end of her path through these Shadowcursed lands will end poorly for her. There was no question about that - the only questions that he had about the matter was how. Would Shar allow someone who had need such a firm hand in maintaining doctrine to become a Dark Justiciar? Would Shadowheart be able to fulfil the task at all? Would she want to, despite all her continued insistence that she want nothing more than this?

"The Dark Lady ain't exactly known for a forgivin' nature.." His tail tip - rough as sand paper - reaches up and drags over her finger tips. A little motion, just a brush of skin against rough scaled skin, as if to remind her of how unforgiving she already knew her to be. How even little slights could be excruciating.

[eclipsecrowned]

The fog is an all consuming thing. It floods in like smoke, though it climbs where smoke sinks. Starts at her ankles until it's swallow her whole, no amount of fight or flight turning it's embrace into something she can escape. Stones under her feet soften, crumbling to dirt as the smell of wet earth rushes in to greet her, and tall, wet grass licks at her ankles.

The fog drops like a curtain cut from the rod, turning thin at her feet and obscuring what was in the distance. She's in an expanse of green so deep and dark that the night around Belloza made every inch of foliage seem black in color. Silence falls around her. Time creeps forward. It's just her, the grass, towering trees and puddles so dirty it's impossible to tell water from blood.

Crows disturb easily - watching from a distance until she gets too close, then taking off in small flocks, flapping wings and beaks part in broken caws.

And then there's another sound. Heavy, rumbling and rasping, wet. Like the grunting of bears trapped within the baiting rings. Drawing closer - ever so - no matter the direction that her footsteps took her. Moving with her, or independant of her, but moving none the less.

It's not a bear who's figure breaks through the fog in the distance, though it might be inappropriate to still say that it was a human she sees - what man could survive being impale in such a way and still move...

A white masked face turns to face her with a growl. // From trapper ♥ // @cuileandorcha

The bastards.

The blood for the rite had been her own, pulsing down her arm in a rhythm that grows more unsteady by the moment. For one bright moment, she is defiant, her own, snarling at the faceless men that have pressed this fate upon her. Words, pretty words, ancient and wretched and powerful, words she sought to subdue and bury beneath the headstones of her white teeth, they flow from a split lip. She is not her uncle. She does not suffer in silence.

She is not her own, either.

It has not dawned on her yet. The skill flows from her. In an age before the comfort of gravity's metaphors, she can only liken the sensation to being thrust beneath water. Her bones so ache when the fog rolls in, as if her back is still bowed by the work of her great facade --

This is her grave, is her first thought, as stone yields beneath her shoes. Purgatory awaits, or some green hell, and she had been warned by an endless parade of priests seeking to make her some Marian maiden. Such superstition is beneath her. Air is beyond her for a long moment, as something dark and dreamless floods her. It is familiar. It is revolting. She recognizes the tendril of elation and the many-legged repulsion of something she destroyed with her girlhood.

It slithers sweet as a drunkard's caress in the back of her mind. Her body is her own again. The rest, she cannot say. Better to move on, then. Better it should not find her a slack-jawed serf gazing on the moon.

Ah.

There is no Luna to guide her here, Her absence conspicuous. From her office, Bella had seen Her smile rise through the sky. Now, the heavens are emptied. Shadows move against the night, feathers rustling -- so like the ones that nested in the old towers of childhood. Hadn't she been able to quell them, once? How terrified she had been of their sharp beaks and many talons, loving her uncle that he did not laugh at her as his brother did. Her head spins. Time blurs. Something that is not her beats staccato in her head, matching the measure of her heart, of the slow bleeding wound that clings to ruined velvet.

Foolish. She is not dressed for this. Better to rend the seams of her lower layers and free her legs for the march ahead. The flora is strange to her, who has wandered the Continent as Wisdom's pilgrim. The branches of strange trees sway like an invitation, banners waving with standards of something she long ago outran --

No.

Only a few leaves, valiant against the chill. Time blurs. It is only imagination that conjures the sound of his great feet upon the.... ground...

The Bible has been too charitable in its descriptions of Goliath. What rises before her is undoubtedly a Giant of old mythology, yet she can find nothing else to describe it. Even a demon is meant to tempt. The mere sight of this thing sets her brain alight. Every mote, every inch of her soul, even the tickle at the base of her brain, it all speaks in one voice:

Run.

Her body is her own, yet moving so swiftly she cannot register the thoughts that compel her. Gathering her skirts, she races away, the rabbit in the field, putting one of the trees between she and the wolf that pursues.

[bolyde]

put your "on repeat" playlist on shuffle, list the first 10 songs, and tag 10 people to do the same

Locals (girls like us) by underscores and gabby start

Bloody! Bloody! by Junie & TheHutFriends

Dead Girls by Penelope Scott

Girlfriend by Hemlocke Springs

Black Sheep (Brie Larson Vocals) by Metric

Apotheosis by Austin Wintory from Journey

BasketFlies by DJ Cummerbund

Becoming a Jackal by Villagers

River Rushing by The Crane Wives

PUNK TACTICS by Joey Valence & Brae

tagged by: @wakesleft

tagging: @tcmpestes @witchsabre @hemerasiae @chanticle @cuileandorcha