HOW’S IT FEEL TO BE HOME? / YOU’VE BEEN HERE BEFORE, BUT DO YOU REMEMBER HOW TO LEAVE?
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✝ 1p15·
𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙴𝚂 𝙷𝙴𝚁 . makes her angry , makes her furious . he makes it sound so easy , so full of dark and longing and everything that she hides . so easily do his hands pluck that thing called a heart from her body , watch it bleed softly , unhuman , unhappily . it is enough to make her sick . hands balled up in fists , tremoring with a tepid kind of hate as she walks over and pulls him by the collar . “ what do you know , ” spat with venom , brow furrowed as her grip gets ever the more tighter . tattoo cuts into the metal of her hand , sparks flying as they meet for the first time . he says it so sincerely , so pitifully . it becomes hard to ignore and she hates him for it . she hates that he knows , that he can feel that blood that burns beneath false skin . she can still hear them , still feel their pale hands in hers , see their bodies crumpled beneath the rubble . they tell her something she never wants to hear again . he’s right . “ just shut the hell up already . ” she throws him down , that hurt in her voice echoing in the valley they laid their corpses in . “ you don’t know a damn thing . ” how her eyes hold all that hate , that hurt .
𝙷𝙴 𝙸𝚂 𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙺 , in heart , in body , in mind . he is wracked with the uncontrollable and unfathomable aspect of loneliness , of grief . an emptiness which can only be filled . tired , broken , sick ——— sick of this tug of war , this game of being the throw away toy . they meet with fury and utmost sorrow , a black hole of suffering and sharp edges , but they do not touch . he is sick ; sick of the disconnect when she slams him down on the hard ground , when she stares at him with disdain in her eyes instead of something more . something he knows is close . the lack of it will drive him mad . “ all you do is push me away , “ he spits , cursing her , and yet his face still shows sadness in his ever growing rage , twisting strangely , curiously . “ but we’re the same . “ a threat against her soft heart . a blade to her synthetic skin . he makes his way to his feet and stands pitifully and rigid , head held low and eyes peering up through shagged hair . a sickness , ravaging through each and every molecule of him , each atom and each cell ——— a heart , a body , a mind . “ it doesn’t have to be like this anymore . “
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hello.
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i am everywhere lately. guess i should say where? as of now, i’ve got: 𝐚𝐥𝐳𝐛𝐞𝐭 (i haven’t been active on here for 5 years i’m sorry) @maniaphilous, 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐞 @idelar, 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡 @gewahlter, and 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐞 @consumecrow. i’m actively jumping between muses so activity changes between them all, but they’re there.
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DARK CORE.
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SENSES & OTHER SPECIFIC HEADCANONS.
what does your muse smell like? dirt. incense. nothing fancy. when he’s not napping in pews, he’s walking around in the forest doing god knows what. don’t look behind you if you’re on a trail.
what do your muse’s hands feel like? rough, sharp, wrong. underneath gloves (which he always wears and will very rarely take off) his hands are calloused, scarred, and covered in scrawl-like tattoos that mar and damage his skin. he never lets anyone see them or touch them (without good reasoning) because they’d hurt people, so. they’d be painful. like acid on your skin.
what does your muse usually eat in a day? he..tries to eat regular food. more like a snacks and scraps kinda guy whenever he’s feeling it, but the truth is that his diet and appetite mostly consists of humans. during the day he might eat a few helping of regular, humane foods, and in the night he’s on the loose.
does your muse have a good singing voice? no. doesn’t like to sing anyway.
does your muse have any bad habits or nervous tics? stares at people. really, really stares. bites at his lips until they bleed. doesn’t brush his hair. has a tendency to just start crying like a small child, as well as a tendency to go wild mad at the drop of a hat.
what does your muse usually look like/wear? fairly well dressed. likes to wear a lot of layers to hide his imperfections, so for example: turtleneck shirts underneath cardigans, underneath heavy coats or the occasional large trench coat. always wears some dark colored gloves and long pants to accompany. shows only the skin on his face. dresses everyday like its winter, basically.
is your muse affectionate? how much? how so? yes, but not in healthy ways. is more so clingy physically than he is in an emotionally affectionate way. he will say nice things about people he likes and/or loves, but prefers to be on the receiving end of pleasantries. sorta just follows you around like a puppy and leans close. is only outwardly affectionate when he wants something in return. his affectionate is almost always a projection of what he wants from you/what he thinks you are, rather than what you actually are.
what position does your muse sleep in? fetal position. curled up tight.
could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room? i’d say no. doesn’t like to yell and doesn’t have a very loud voice to start with. rather quiet. if all else was silent and you were listening very, very closely, then you might hear him.
TAGGED BY: @dacnophilous madam president
TAGGING: @automatizm, @armazeilor........everyone else has been tagged
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@1p15 ——— shut up . i know the story , or at least the lesson .
“ 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳 . “ a statement , a question , a plea , a threat . a lone light in a sea of dark . it’s all he asks for , all he needs . he’s so pitiful , so awfully shameful in every way ; a mockery of a man and a mockery of a self proclaimed god . a tin soldier staring down the barrel . a fool with his neck at the end of her blade , aching for it to scratch just enough , to make it bleed until it can bleed no more . he’s no man of god , no god of man ——— he’s only a beast , a force , a means to an end . a piece . “ i was betrayed , too . “ who was watching ? was there anyone there to hear ? who can say for sure ? in his heart of hearts , he’s the abandoned child , a remnant of what’s long past , thrown out into the cold of the night . a forgotten son , turned against . all he can do is reach out in hopes that there will be something nearby to grab , someone close by to hang onto . something tangible , someone precious . “ i only have one thing to do . it’s all i have ... all i’m here for . “ to hold someone by the hands and lead them down the dark road . to guide and set free . to take . he looks through her , into her , with eyes that see only fallacy . “ ——— you know . “
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tumblr said fuck formatting again, huh
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u woulda thought this quarantine and everything would boost my rp presence but. rip
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✝ kogokami
𝙽𝙰𝙸𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙲𝙷 / THE MAW.
* 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙼 𝙳𝚁𝚄𝙼. Footsteps along the hard concrete under her feet, the jingle of her sword and the thump if it hitting her side. Eyes peering forward, hard and hungry, took notice of the stranger. Not turning to face them, stopping in her tracks, letting eyes look upon such a form.
‘ 𝙰 𝙽𝙴𝚆 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝙴, 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙼𝙴𝙻𝙻 𝙾𝙵 𝚆𝙰𝚁 𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄? Though no fires flame the streets, I will soon set it ablaze. ’
𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙸𝚃 𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝙾 ? the concept of war is far off . no , all he understands is what comes of it , the sacrifice of steel against steel in a desperate , beautiful struggle . perhaps it’s far too fairy tale . it didn’t matter in the end . nothing truly did . only what comes after , only what’s left for him to sink his teeth into . the sweet rot of an aftermath is close . the smell of fulfillment . the fires of satisfaction . “ n-no , i ——— i have my reasons . i’m not like you . “
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‘ i am sorry i do not have more time ’
“ 𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝙻𝙻 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 . “ won’t you ? the sun always shines in the early morning . the dew sets . the birds chirp . there is a crisp reality that never fades , but he’s trapped in these harrowing dreams which he cannot escape , these horrible fantasies he cannot run from . she is so soft a thing . too soft . too little and too much of her , just enough and not enough to fit in his gaping hands . the sorrow is unbearable , but the desire beckons . this deep emotion swells in his belly , curls around his insides and wriggles up his throat . she will always remember his crocodile tears for what they really are . him for what he really is . “ you came back every time . i can wait ——— you know i can . “ he is desperate , holding onto each small beam of light that comes his way . she wanes and he weeps , tears himself asunder in wait . she comes and goes in agony . there must be more . “ you’ll never leave me . “
✝ @renescentiae : BETWEEN YOU AND THESE BONES
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✝ renascentiae
“ 𝙸𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝙰 𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼 . ” The boy smells of her death. She smiles, soft as a bell’s chime, for how funny it is to be strangled. Her anger is short-lived. The body had been chopped up into pieces and fed to the gardens already. No need to revenge for every little mess. “ Look how alive I am ——- look closely , dear boy. ” Her dainty fingers slide through his hair, not to dig into the scalp, not to cut it off. Then, she pets him like a stupid pup. “ Terrible deeds ought to stay in terrible dreams , nay ? ”
@naireach·
𝙰 𝙲𝚄𝚁𝚂𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝚁𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙴 . if only these dreams were not so haunting , dear heart . brightest sun in the sky that you are . every morning he is awoken , shaken like a rag doll . tossed about in his own sorrows and foul deeds . every morning she is awoken , strung together neatly , perfume of grape leaves fresh as the dew . how marvelous . how terrifying . “ i’m glad . “ her touch grants him respite , and he leans into it , soft and tender . “ i wish i didn’t dream , “ he says , voice weary . “ they’re only nightmares . “
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starters / prompts taken from f. d. soul’s work , between you and these bones . feel free to change pronouns / tenses as necessary .
‘ the problem is you keep trying to use your eyes ’
‘ how i soften when you pull me against you ’
‘ you are teaching me to love ’
‘ i will pretend that i have not already heard the question in your eyes ’
‘ you perhaps will become my swan song ’
‘ it is a very human thing to love ’
‘ you are my good days ’
‘ i have been loved dearly ’
‘ i promise you will not always be this war ’
‘ thank god for the stubbornness of organs ’
‘ it takes me seven days to stop being in love with you ’
‘ there will always be another day ’
‘ there will always be another mercy ’
‘ perhaps i will take up dancing again ’
‘ what a pretty little disaster you will be ’
‘ i am terrified for you ’
‘ i will fold inside of myself ’
‘ today i am thankful ’
‘ i didn’t want to sleep because i didn’t want to wake ’
‘ come and get me ’
‘ i tell myself i do not need you ’
‘ i think i broke again last night ’
‘ i’m just trying to connect with you ’
‘ you are an ocean that will perhaps never stop crashing ’
‘ burn the house down in search of yourself ’
‘ don’t you dare ever stop looking ’
‘ i struggle not to feel guilty ’
‘ you are a wild , unkempt thing ’
‘ sometimes it is a very sad thing to be human and longing ’
‘ find that you are made of russian nesting dolls ’
‘ the trees are always kindest with spring comes ’
‘ teach yourself the hymns again ’
‘ he is every amen i have ever laid down on lips ’
‘ this life is an altar ’
‘ i am sorry i do not have more time ’
‘ there is a mountain in me ’
‘ by the morning i am a triumph ’
‘ there are words playing hooky in the back of your throat ’
‘ today is by far the most beautiful creature i have ever come across ’
‘ there are many things that will fit beneath your skin ’
‘ forgiveness does not take up much room ’
‘ some days you will breathe and it will be enough ’
‘ you do not have to hold it quite so tightly ’
‘ there is a prayer in me , still ’
‘ you scare me a little ’
‘ you can be a good thing and not a whole thing ’
‘ there are flowers in my chest again ’
‘ the rain comes and sounds like you ’
‘ i cannot tell you why i still trust god ’
‘ find peace and build a home out of it ’
‘ there is never an end ’
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KNOCK KNOCK ANYONE HOME
nope. the shock of someone knocking on the door has killed him.
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cucroga replied to your post “saint pattys day is comin so yknow what that means.”
it means ya boi cu is back in town ;))))))))))
i hereby cancel the holiday
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saint pattys day is comin so yknow what that means.
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