🚩 :o)

>:o) 🤡💕✨

send me a 🚩 and i'll share my unpopular rpc opinions and hot takes.

🚩. canon muses lowkey scare me. is this a hot take or just a confession? mm lowkey a confession but this blog is my front lawn and i want to put the silly garden gnome out there.

[lays down on a therapist sofa with a bag of popcorn] as an oc blog with my own laundry list of issues, it’s very unlikely I will follow a canon-only blog first. Even if I dig what and who they’re writing, I just feel to much strange self-inflicted pressure to maneuver around me “not wanting to be that guy.”

What does that mean exactly? No clue my fellow clown lover, it's my own internalized anxiety that I'm still working on— it’s not a standard I hold against anyone else so I know it’s something I need to work on. Baby steps and all.

If I follow a blog that’s either canon-only or has canon muses, they passed an incredible vibe check and show respect towards other ocs w/out making them feel lesser when writing with.

[blows a kiss to my mutuals that have canon blorbos]

Do you honestly believe that you are funny? Tell us your best joke! (Chirptune!)

"Oh! Chirptune is plenty funny."

"You wanna hear a joke? Wanna see a joke ? Here you go!" Chirptune holds up a little pocket mirror at the asker and lets out an 8-bit giggle.

Their reflections are clear in the dark pond water. Ripples roll in from further out. From the blackness, Riddick withdraws his hands, shaking them out as he stands from a crouch. A small mound of smooth stones is piled beside his prison-issued boots.

“the kids around here are smart, they know how to stay out of trouble.” “— well, mostly. antole told me about this fellow, you know. deep voiced. 'cool but kind of scary'.” @natterghast smiles. it's slight and coy like a smirk forced to be even; and nowhere near her eyes. caution nestles between her shoulder blades. her voice is sugar. “if I meet him i'll have to thank him.”

His hands remain in plain sight as she speaks. Hanging, relaxed, and most importantly empty. A sign of respect, though she may not know it. Bit of culture he's picked up in the penal system. Simply put: no hostility meant.

Her unease, as subtle as it was threatening, delights Riddick. If there's an instinct to see children protected, then they both share it.

"Sounds like a good group of kids," says the deep voiced culprit. "Antole. Adventurous type? Nose stuck where it shouldn't be? I might have seen that one hanging around."

@natterghast “right here, obviously.” zelman nudges the body with the toe of his shoe.

"of course. .. what were you going to do with this body, if anything?"

@natterghast​     /     tiny party starters!

“hmmmm, dare, right?”   like the ten-or-so previous rounds, obviously.   “i dare you tooo...  steal a bottle of vodka.   and keep it hidden the whole party.”

✪  Rubbing their back after a stressful day or disappointment. (from devisee, and not at all platonic like the meme says)

By the time that Atieno had returned to see Devisee again, it was after a wave of .. rough events. Interactions that had gone awry, having to avoid being controlled and pressured. The weight of heavy stories that they really.. shouldn't try to intervene in with but still knew about all sitting with them at once.

They had always known that the nature of being present meant constantly being exposed to a lot that was hard to take. Especially when they could see and remember examples of similar situations arising. As much as they liked seeing parallels, there were so many times where those .. parallels, those repeating actions only seemed to tire them out.

And the kind of exhaustion that Atieno carried often had no way of truly being put down.

That being said, the comfort - the comfort from some affection did make a difference. Settling down in Devisee's company, they felt his hands start to rub and caress their back.

"You're too good to me. But.. I do appreciate you doing this a lot." They spoke softly, almost as if getting used to him being so willing to do this for them.

He had adjust so he could sit closer, and closer - ensuring that his presence would be near. The sensation of his hands wandering, up in down - adding pressure at times, doing a bit of kneading. The sound of his voice. The feeling of a kiss at their shoulders. One, two.. several more.

It had them feeling quite vulnerable, letting out these low sighs of appreciation. The way that his hands felt, the intention with his touch, the closeness that his presence felt... genuinely blissful. And were there more kisses that he was leaving?

And were those kisses getting closer to their neck?

It certainly felt like it. And that alone was making them focus on another feeling altogether brewing within them.

Not that they were complaining, no they could only turn their head slightly to direct an affectionate gaze at him. Almost stunned when he looked right at them while continuing his touches, and pressing his lips again on them.

@natterghast​ asked: “why are y‘looking at me like that?” benjamin is knees week arms spaghetti. the grin on his face is getting painfully wide. mark him down as scared and horny. defcon three alarms are blaring in his head. (jazz hands. here's someone for ayalon to bully <3)

                “And how am I looking at you?” He replies plainly, eyebrows tilting up curiously. The God knows exactly what he’s doing, every action, every glance calculated beneath his general passiveness. The inquiry holds Ayalon’s attention more firm, hues smoldering as he peers right into Benjamin’s own uncertain gaze. Benjamin’s grin bares teeth, resembling that of a predator. And how could Ayalon ignore such a gesture? 

                    “Enlighten me. How am I looking at you?”  It’s not ignorance that drives the question forward, but a sadistic interest. How will the solider respond? Will his grin waver? Avert his gaze? Continue to ignore the trembling of his body in order to stand against him— Him. A God. Such a silly thing, and Ayalon borders between holding endearment, and something more authoritative over this one being. “Poor lamb...” He mutters, cupping either side of Benjamin’s neck and tilting his chin up with the pads of his thumbs, “do you know you’ve walked right into the culling? Is that your knees shake...” Ill-tasting amusement huffs past his lips, “Looking at you.. Ahah, did you forget?” A cock of his head, “you looked at me, first. Someone ought to teach you when to avert your gaze.”

✖.   —  [   @natterghast​  (nahinu!)​ ​​​​  / 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬   ]

   *〔  ✕。〕——— “...This is a pretty nice time of night, isn’t it? It’s quiet, but... not too lonely, with company.”

@natterghast​ | devisee <3

❝ uh... you can eat this one if you want. i don’t need him anymore. ❞

♢*   —    @natterghast ​ /  𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐑: 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 

❝ you feel it in the air, don’t you? the anxiety. ❞ (from solar for vis &lt;;3)

        〈 ♕ * 〉 ┊  "I believe-- I am feeling--- quite a bit more than-- anxiety," Visal wheezes out in response.

     Doubled over and visibly quaking from head to toe, the prince clutches a heavy tome to his chest as though its bulk could squeeze more air into his heaving lungs. After a few more arduous gasps, he manages to straighten up. The hood of his traveler's cloak drops from the curves of onyx horns framing either side of his head, revealing how the deep brown of his skin runs ashen beneath the pale glare of the setting sun. He winces against the harsh light before glancing back down the craggy slope. Where a great library once stood is now little more than ancient debris. The ward formerly obscuring it as nothing more than a tangle of roots from long-since felled trees flickers uselessly. With nothing to conceal anymore, the magic from the ward seeps out into the air. Its essence batters against his already hypersensitive body. Were he alone, he's certain he would have collapsed by now.

     'No; I would have fallen back in the library were I the sole enactor of this fool's errand,' he acknowledges with a troubled furrow in his brows. From beneath sweat-soaked bangs, he shoots a searching look towards his unlikely companion. The magic sustaining the library had been old and wily, like a serpent connivingly coiling around its prey. Every ward and stronghold broken had sapped away more and more of his already minimal energy. He had come dangerously close to needing to burn through the reserves flowing through his veins as blood-- and that, he knows, would likely have brought the entire building down onto their heads. Yet, blessedly (and quite curiously), it hadn't come to that. For whatever reason, the other's very presence had seemed to sustain him right at ground state. Odd... and entirely untrustworthy.

     "We don't have much time," he warns, packing that observation away in the back of his mind for now. He unceremoniously shoves the tome into the patchwork satchel hanging from his shoulder (a traveling doctor's bag, he had called it earlier). "With all those wards destroyed, whatever beings left behind to guard the secrets stored here are surely waking." He takes a box from his bag, removes something shimmering in the shape of a six-pointed star from it, pops it into his mouth, and swallows with a grimace. "All hells below know what time and decay might have twisted them into. Better to run than--"

      The ground rumbles and groans underfoot. Birds burst from the treetops, cawing frantic warnings as they fly away. Not even a second later, the steeple of the ruined entryway splits in half. A tentacle textured like the false image of the gnarled roots lurches upward, blotting out the sun and casting a shadow across both individuals. A seam on its underside tears open into ghastly rows of teeth that chew and gnash against each other. Oily spittle oozes from the crags of incisors, bubbling and hissing as they splatter against the ground only a short sprint's length away from Visal's feet. Emaciated arms break out of the miasma, the oily surface bursting open like an embryonic sack, dragging twisted bodies with the same hungry maws splitting across their limbs. He vaguely recognizes the once-lustrous, now rusted and charred, armor clinging to the skeletal soldiers. Legion of the Abandoned Apocrypha. Doomed servants of all dead and forgotten religions, laid to rest to guard the scriptures of their dearly departed gods and oracles.

      How unfortunate that he'd had to reclaim one of his own peoples' sacred texts from this forsaken mausoleum.

      "--fight," Visal finishes on a weary sigh. He resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and swear. "Go," he urges, uncompromising but not unkind. "This is not your battle, stranger."

. ✦ ݁ ˖ @natterghast sent in: ❝ will you stop calling me that? ❞  (devisee to copycat <3)

[🧬] “No.”

A simple answer for a simple question. Copycat’s tongue spoke sharply as it cut right to the chase.

“WHAT I call you doesn't matter, not really. I'd call you by your name, but you'd still HATE the reverence that followed it, wouldn't you?”

Even sharper teeth tore into the bloodied carcass of a fresh kill. Another carcass laid upon Devisee’s feet; a buck larger in size than her own feast— another offering for the orphaned god touched by both eldritch and ethereal.

“Words mean little, and still even then: you deny your divinity as if you should rule over humility instead.”

Fatty muscle slid down her throat under a hefty swallow and a long tongue lapped at the blood smeared across her maw. All five eyes on Devisee and his human masquerade. Wide and curious. Her antenna twitched.

“Why?”

"I was hoping t'avoid this elevator small talk, but here we are." (from benji with a strained smile to blue, possibly caught red handed somehow?)

"I am not one for small talk myself." Blue Two stood stiff, close to the console of the elevator. Her attention was mostly on the little display that showed which floor they were heading at. Normally, espionage was not Fivemind's thing. The AI always had preferred bluntly straightforward approaches.

"Do you work here?" That would be bad if he did. This was technically a stealth mission - break into the building, grab a certain hard drive they've caught wind of, and bring it back to base for analysis. Or it could be good. Because then she could ask for directions. Maybe.

“Smooth. Very smooth. You definitely know how to make a good first impression.” (from xianne)

The bird beast had fallen flat on his face, clumsy as usual. He looked up, and hadn't expected to see that someone else was there, and had seen him. As he picked himself, up, he hadn't realized that his hood had fallen down, which revealed his ear feathers in plain sight.

"W...Well, hello to you, too..." he said with a sigh. "Y...Yeah, that wasn't exactly...great, was it...?" He said, and had finally noticed his hood was down, and quickly pulled it over his eyes. "What a blunder..." Jay muttered to himself, and shook his head.

“How can you be so smart but also so very stupid?” (from summer, who is truly puzzled)

Zora can't help but narrow their eyes at Summer.

"I think that's a lot of audacity for you to go around calling people stupid. But then again, I don't think I should expect anything further from you. "

Z sighs a little bit, still annoyed about the comment. It was terribly back-handed in just the ways that they hated most.

"If you don't get why I didn't see something.. you can just fucking say that. This back-handed shit is really getting on my nerves."

🔷️ - tracing shapes on my muse’s skin (devisee!)

As if the feeling of Devisee's touch alone wasn't something that inspire a response from Atieno, something about the sensation of his fingers lightly tracing shapes on them had them settling closer to him.

There was something soothing, the way that he followed the starry, shimmery - silver, white and blue marks that seemed so prominent on their 'skin'. He followed these marks, these shapes with such focus and care, one would have thought that he was trying to study them in some way.

Atieno wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. It still felt good, terribly good to feel the way his fingers ran across them. They almost were a bit embarrassed about how such touch brought reactions out of them. But it was too late, they were far too into this for the shame to try to stop it now.

"This.. this feels really nice. Something about how intentional you are with your touch is really pleasant..." The act of purposefully wanting to follow these shapes on their 'skin', the intention of following along - trailing the stories and memories seemingly embedded in this current form - Atieno couldn't help but appreciate the intimacy that came from it.

@natterghast​ asked: ❛  speak your mind even if your voice shakes. that's what i tell myself.  ❜  (changed slightly, nahi)

feeling things // not accepting

                 The God hums in acknowledgment, taking the small soul fragment between his fingers to study it. Poor thing, got lost along the way to the afterlife, and a heavy frown settles at the corners of his lips. Did no one know how to do their jobs properly after he left? A quiet ‘tsk’ in irritation, and the ball of light vanishes, sent on its way to follow the rest of its essence. Such a momentary interaction, but dealing with the wandering dead always managed to reconnect Ayalon to the past, to who he once was. He doesn’t linger on the memories for too long, however, as he gathers the rest of his attention to look at Nahinu. He had not yet given her a satisfactory reply, or at least one he himself didn’t approve of. 

               “And do you follow your own advice?” He questions, head cocked. Ayalon hadn’t meant to be patronizing, even if it came across as such. He was genuinely curious how well others stuck to their own practices, their own morals. Especially beings like Nahi. “That’s a good thing to live by. Actually, I’m sure you’ve built up quite the experience on such a thing. Otherwise, what would speaking your mind matter to you?” He’s amused as he says it, previous frown replaced with a cheeky smirk. Ayalon’s eyes don’t stray from her gaze, despite wanting to look at more of her. Perceive her as she was, beyond the veil of falsehood she kept up to parade herself as human. But he refrains. It’d be rude to take a peek, wouldn’t it? “Your voice won’t shake forever. And when that time comes, whoever you’re giving it to better listen well.”