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tabbyrp · 7 months

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Day 8: The Raven

'Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”'

-Edgar Allan Poe

#quothesquills #putting the ooooo in spooktober

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brooklynislandgirl · 2 years

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So a Little Update for Y’all. Yesterday was officially the first day of Summer Break, which means from now til the beginning of August, I have all the time to work on my blogs, and finally catch up with folks. If you want a reliable way of getting a hold of me, feel free to ask for my Dis.cord or send me a DM. This applies to mutuals both old and new, let’s be friends! blog stuff: This is where I shamefully hide behind my oversize coffee cup. Drafts: 140 Inbox: 110 I will be doing my best to write somewhere between 5-10 posts a day from these two sources, and then putting them in the queue. I appreciate your patience and love of both myself and Beth, and I promise I am interested in everything I’ve got. I will be trying to alternate between my blogs so that everyone has a chance to talk. Currently I have: BrooklynIslandGirl: Beth Riley // Melakeni Ivers {{SW fandom}} // Rebecca O’Shae {{Deadwood fandom}}, Mael Muire {{American Gods/Ancient Ireland/Sorcerer’s Crusade fandoms}} and any of Beth’s other incarnations/lifetimes that folks might be interested in. TarnishedHalo: Andrew “No Shame” Riley // Admiral Reliriu “Rel” Ivers {{Star Wars fandom}} // Conchobhar {{American Gods/Ancient Ireland/Sorcerer’s Crusade fandoms}} and any of Riley’s other Incarnations/Lifetimes that folks might be interested in. QuothesQuills: The World’s Snarkiest Corax {{wereraven}} ....You don’t really wanna know. But don’t be surprised, either. Damhsagreine: {{Highly Selective, HC heavy, Canon Divergent HC/Mythology/American Gods/Au based}} Lugh Lámfada. Mad Sweeney. Samildánach. Ildánach. Lonnansclech. Lonnbéimnech. Macnia. Conmac. He has many names, this youngest of the Tuatha Dé Danann. He is a god, a warrior, a king, a master craftsman and sometimes a saviour. Other times he’s an ordinary business man, or mobster, or whatever else he feels like being. Just don’t call him a leprechaun. ~*~

If YOU want me to drop a thread/change one, or start something new, please let me know! I am happy to accommodate anyone and everyone as best I can. If you have questions for me or Beth, they are welcome! If you have an idea or a plot or just wanna try something out, let me know!

#The Turtle Speaks|OOC #Summer Blog Update #Apologies if you see this multiple times >.<

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whosxafraid · 3 years

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Borrowed Writing Prompt Meme Day 1 : Moon Verse: Wolf Of Another Coat || A Star Wars AU Featured: @mynameisanakin | @brooklynislandgirl | @quothesquills

It’s...quieter up here. Up here where the little Night Jedi often goes to share meal and talk with the elder creature that reeks. Though admittedly no more so than the next living things that passes life upon this metal sphere. And a nose twitches at the reminder. A subconscious snort in an attempt to toss offending smells from Eighteen’s nose. Even if in the very next breath they all return. Though admittedly it isn’t quite so bad up here. The air is much cleaner. Lighter. Not so dense. And while Eighteen is not the chancellor’s biggest fan, the something else approves of the nicer surroundings. Granted nicer to Eighteen is not the same as it is to every one else.

A roll of shoulders to alleviate the itching caused by stagnation. There is no where to run here. No open places for one to stretch their legs. Not in the sense someone like Eighteen wants...needs. The only current available open space is only the dimensions of the balcony upon who’s ledge one sits. Because something else was encouraged to choose sitting out here while discussions over more delicate foods and topics occur within the Chancellor’s quarters. And while someone else might find room to be insulted...Eighteen fails to see it. The insult that is. Carefully chosen words with a perfect concept of do put the dog outside with its dish, boy woven into it.

No the sentiment had gone wide of Eighteen. Instead the something had taken his hardly could be considered cooked meal outside. Eyes almost immediately drawn to the sky. Vast and far reaching as it is from this perspective high above the common spaces of the planet. Where the evening stretches from one horizon to the other. Cut and split by the other towering buildings, but still visible all the same. City transports and private ones moving along below feet that dangle from swinging legs. And while Eighteen can still detect all that is unnatural about this place, an ever so deep breath is taken. Gaze tracking the slow traveling moons across the sky. The brightest of which almost brushes skin.

Brightest of them because...there are four of them. He tries to remember there names but...like many things of common speech--they escape him. But that is all about them that does. Their beauty, what they still have of it, shining bright like the orbiting giants that they are. He has seen many worlds. Both with the one that is gone and the little Night Jedi and the Little Tree. Yet four moons...Eighteen has not seen replicated anywhere. Though blame is born upon lack of having not seen quite so much of the galaxy as Anakin and Keni have.

But it helps to provoke a kind of wonder that the something else often lacks. A kind of appreciation for the natural order. For though they are just as plundered...just as mistreated as the planet--the four smaller giants are just far enough away to pretend otherwise. To still be able to see their beauty untainted. To feel it calling. Feel the pull to run and too hunt. To respond to it. And perhaps for the briefest of moments Eighteen does just that. Finds a tattered strand fluttering in the filtered wind and--

Warm moonlight. Rich, wet soil between toes. Sweet grass. The hum of insects and bubbling water. Peace and calm in a way he has no memory of ever having felt. The gentle tide of the pool upon who’s shore feet reside, lapping lazily.

“What do you wait for?”

A blink, then two. Dark hair that fans out in the silver black water as she turns. Bright eyes like twin suns meeting mix matched ones. She is beautiful, in every way and more than the moons that call from the physical world.

“Are you to stand there like tree awaiting its roots? Or are you going to help as I asked to wash away the dirt from the places I can not reach?”

She reaches out and he mirrors the movement. Finger tips to fingertips. His own making wordless declarations they will never touch anything else as soft.

“Come, C---”

“Eighteen?”

And much like the momentary light from Coruscant’s brightest moon--it is gone. Replaced by metal and tainted air. Replaced by a far more concrete presence and an awareness Eighteen is perhaps leaned a little too far towards the edge to be safe. And something else pulls himself back. A mental scurry to brush the vision like dream somewhere Anakin will not see. And focuses on taking note of what Eighteen may have missed. A near inaudible growl of a stomach not Eighteen’s giving the something else words to distract from the probable bantha on the balcony.

“Night Jedi speaks much, eats little.”

“Little Tree will be displeased.”

#mynameisanakin #brooklynislandgirl #quothesquills #It Comes In Threes || Anikeni18 #That Is Not My Name But One Day I Will Hear It Again || Quothe and Cathal #Wolf Of Another Coat || A Star Wars AU #Nothing More Than A Villain || Luktober Writing Prompt #Wolves Do Not Lose Sleep Over The Opinions Of Sheep || Que

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ronmanmob · 5 years

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Have you ever.... treated someone like friend, and then used situation to your advantage? Not judging...but maybe little bit professional curiosity.

Schooled indifference flickers into Ron’s expression; what once was simply neutral, flat, becoming engaged but detached at once. ‘No luv, ov course not’ he says smoothly, nudging a cup towards his guest and gesturing to the teapot sitting near it. ‘Cuppa? ‘Elp y’self, yeah?’

#quothesquills #//another fankoo hunny! <3 #//was that a fib there Kray? xD

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macdiari · 5 years

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A Watched Pot...

Tracked from [ X ]

Her finger tips miss by a breath, enough that he feels the breeze on them. Another pilfered grape popped into his mouth as he picks at the skin of another. But his fingers had never been made for such delicate things and he ends up just tossing that half smushed fruit into his mouth in short order. A suck of his teeth more at the answer he’s given than out of necessity to pry anything loose. A day or two, she says. It fuels his need to fidget, because it has always been an unspoken truth–they worry when apart. Even if it is a thing they have done over and over again, through the millenia. They worry because that is how they died the first time was it not?

Another of the grapes is rolled between his fingers to alleviate the tick, at least until he’s not the only one occupying his space. And green shifts over and down to study the top of her head. Fingers barely laced with sticking juice subconsciously threading themselves through her hair. She’s as worried as he is but like him she won’t voice it. That’s not the sort of people they are. One thing that differs between them and Cathal. One thing that makes them…familiar to each other. And there’s a pulling grin amid a breathed chuckle at the squeeze she gives. She baits distraction–and he’ll give it to her as much as take it.

An arm around her own waist to pick her up and turn her. Set her down on the back of the couch. Fingers tightening in her hair to almost gently pull her head back. Putting them more or less eye to eye. A nipping kiss on the edge of her mouth to steal away the remnants of juice before the last of his pillaging is placed against her lips. While he finds space between her thighs to settle, drawing her in by her own backside to leave little room for anything between them save heart beats.

“Exactly wha’ he said, anya.”

A hand that smooths its way up her frame. Fingers delving between ribs, and over breast. Dull nails that drag themselves over skin, that what little silk that covers the rest could only dream of being as soft. And there’s a hum…low pitched and threatening gravel. That darkens the Irish moss green of his gaze. Sets his tongue over lips, that pry apart in its wake. Frame around painfully white teeth that have pulled pleasures out of her as well as the one they worry over. But for now she is the singular target. The singular distraction, and another nip–harder this time–leaves reddening marks along her lower lip.

“Bu’ oi’ dunna think ye really care all that much o’bout impendin’ trinkets.”

#There Can Only Be Two || Immortals [Highlander] Verse #tbd || Lorcan Anya Cathal #quothesquills #quothesquills 01

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morgansmornings · 5 years

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ABOUT YOUR MUSE

FINANCES? LET’S SEE How do they handle their money? Blows through the entire paycheck | Sets some money aside, spends the rest as needed over time | Holds onto it as long as possible | Lives past their means

How do they handle their bills? Sets aside bill money each check | Pays them right away| Pays them last minute | They’re frequently overdue

How often do they get exercise? Frequently, as a hobby | Frequently, from work | Somewhat, from a hobby | Somewhat, from work | Never

Tagged by: @untamed-good-ole-boy

Tagging: @whosxafraid, @the-blackest-spider, @ronmanmob, @mynameisanakin, @multi-mused (For whoever is talkative), @nolegacies, @quothesquills, @riggsanity, @sheeradrenaline, @unshakenvalor, and whoever else.

#More Memes for the Meme Gods #Order Up: que

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tabbyrp · 3 years

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Suzanne was the jewel keeper In a word she stole all the jewels And she took them to a foreign land Which was strictly against all the rules

Spooktober 15/31

#quothesquills #putting the ooooo in spooktober

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whosxafraid · 3 years

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Borrowed Writing Prompt Meme Day 5 : Lavender Verse: A Wolf In Wool Cloth || A Mortally Modern AU Featured: @brooklynislandgirl | @quothesquills | @macdiari | @damhsagreine

There’s a silence that takes over when the would be king sends all scattering. A tension in the air so thick the slightest misstep could snap it in two. Trigger the volcano that will level cities with its earth quakes. Swallow cities with its tsunami. They know because they’ve seen it. A few of them. The select few that know the truth. The singular that can sooth the monster no matter the cause of the rage. That creates a far different point of contention to gather between the molecules. But none dare to look that particular cold war in the eye. To worried about remaining aside the reigning demon than in his path.

Whispers between the few trusted to keep the place in order. Feet that are practiced in the ways of moving without shattering the quiet that stretches beyond the dark heavy wood doors. And if they were to give name to their salvation without ever having seen her face--many would say lavender. Because it both proceeds and chases her own steps. Willow-o-wisp like as she is, though far different words are applied.

Soothsayer. Enchantress. Witch of Brooklyn.

But to him she is none those things. To him she is carried on a imagined mist of relief. Shelter from the onslaught both of his own making and not. Shelter instead of a break wall to crash against him with the same fury. One that smells of soil, berries, oils--all the good things of the earth that he is not. Might have been once. But not now that the rot has taken root. Made him a smoked mirror image of a brother in another life. A shared madness across so many realms he knows not at all exist. Realms that if put to task--many might find perhaps that it not his fault. Many might bring to light the sins of others that he was made to bear. In cost to how greatly he was loved.

But it isn’t just the scent of her that works to ease. No it is other things. The contact of skin with not else but her salves between. The smoke that rises and twists and carries the sweetened tang into his nostrils. Works from the inside out as she does from the outside in. Dulls the pain of scars wrought in mind and body. Hushes the fear no one else is allowed to see. Takes away the instruments of his own self destruction. and lulls the pain thirsting mania to sleep.

It doesn’t fix it. No, never fix. Fixing is for broken things. And a mad prince is anything but broken. Just as a witch is so much more than lavender.

#brooklynislandgirl #quothesquills #macdiari #damhsagreine #Blood Words Promised || Beth and Luka #Love The Way You Lie || Anya and Luka #tbd || Lugh and Luka #tbd || Lorcan and Luka #[ one day i will have super meaningful tags for those last two ships omf ]#A Wolf In Wool Cloth || A Mortally Modern AU #Wolves Do Not Lose Sleep Over The Opinions Of Sheep || Que

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whosxafraid · 4 years

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tracked from [x]

There may or may not be something to the smirk on his face. Which also may or may not have anything to do with the smell of liquor stuck to his lips and the greenery clinging to the very crown she stands on.

“H’oi.”

#quothesquills #quothesquills 24 #Maybe He Knows Hes Drunk Maybe He Knows Shes The One Maybe She Does Too || Quothe and Luka #Tra la la la la || Main Verse

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whosxafraid · 4 years

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@brooklynislandgirl | @damhsagreine | @quothesquills | @tarnishedhalo

Stories we are for good or ill. We are stories and they are our own.

#brooklynislandgirl #damhsagreine #quothesquills #tarnishedhalo #Howls || Promos #[happy birthday to my bestest dude]#[all the love coffee and coco floofs]#[edits by crow]#[post via mobile]#Out Of Fecks || OOC

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whosxafraid · 4 years

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insp.

It was always you. It was always you. It was always you.

#croinagreine #brooklynislandgirl #quothesquills #[crow edits]#The Mother He Abandoned || Cethlinn #Réiltín || Beth Riley #Éan deas || Quothe #[ crow edits ]

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whosxafraid · 5 years

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Tracked from [x]

In six words? He.doesn’t.have.time.for.this. Between Dani finding every tiny little thing to complain about. The hormonal roller coaster horror show that pregnancy has turned her into, atop of her already psycho bitch kind of personality. He really doesn’t have time to hunting Anya down. But here he is anyway.

Because she should have been home by now. Should have been waiting for him like she always is. But tonight...she wasn’t there. And there’d been hell in the house for fifteen minutes. An almost brawl because Seamus never did know when to keep his mouth shut. And the only thing that had saved it all from coming to blows was the lady of the house. Threatening both of them with her right as a mother to take them out of this world because she was the one that brought them into it.

Another half hour of making phone calls. Of sending a few of his expendables into the streets. But eventually...Alan calls. Says she was a few shots short of the floor and refusing to go home. Refusing to let one of them take her. And he’s stalking out the door, with his mother yelling after him. Something about giving the poor girl a break. That she’s earned it.

Earned it?

It’s his decision what she’s earned and when. Why? Because until she’s ready to step into the role he’s carefully constructing to fit her--things like this can’t happen. Things that will make people question his ability to keep her in check. Things that will create fires he’ll have to put out, when he’s already stretched thin with heading off his own brother at every turn.

And it is because of this that the car ride down to O’Rian’s is anything but cheery. The tension so thick, that driver and ride along work to ensure their very breathing doesn’t break the silence. It is because of this that he’s climbing out of the car on his own. Slamming the door. Barely giving one of his lacky’s enough time to get the pub door open for him, before a long and heavy gate carries him inside. The current center of his aggravation exactly where he’d been told she was.

Go’vey, Luka.

A slow deliberate tongue slides out over his lips and back again. Jaw clenching in the wake. Irritation woven through his frame like tension cord. And he swallows down the urge to jerk her right off the stool and carrying her spitting and clawing all the way back to the car. But that would cause a scene he really does not need. And for moments he simply stands his ground. An inaudible response that he isn’t--under any circumstances--going to do that.

“D’ink ye’ve had o’nough. Toi’me ta go.”

I vhill take taxi vhen I am good and ready.

His jaw rightly pops with the pressure, as a single finger twitches. The only tell at all that things are about to go very much not her way. Luka stepping up, crowding her in from behind. Hands finding purchase atop the bar, leaning over her. Mouth at her ear. His voice graveled yet resonating.

“Oi’m no goin’ ta tell ye twoi’ce.”

#quothesquills #quothesquills 16 #Love The Way You Lie || Anya and Luka #A Wolf In Wool Cloth || A Mortally Modern AU #Wolves Do Not Lose Sleep Over The Opinions Of Sheep || Que

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whosxafraid · 5 years

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💓: who initiates most physical contact? 💟: who spends time reading their zodiac compatibility? 💙: who is more protective? 💚: who tends to get sick more often? who is better at taking care of the other? 💜: who said "i love you" first? or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first? {{Immy and Quothe}}

Meme: send me a ship with a heart and i’ll tell you…Status: Open

Ship: Maybe He Knows Hes Drunk Maybe He Knows Shes The One Maybe She Does Too

💓: who initiates most physical contact?

A click clack of talons on the counter, in the quiet of the loft apartment. The peck peck peck of her attempts to crack open a walnut. And then suddenly she misses. Not because her aim is off but because it has been stolen. Crushed between fingers and palm that she lacks, and the good parts fished out. Offered to her on the small saucer that seems to come out of the same nothingness he had. And maybe there’s a passing of hand down her back as he continues on to have a swim.

“Her.”

💟: who spends time reading their zodiac compatibility?

There’s a sound that comes from the general direction of the hall. The unmistakable riiiip of newspaper. And by the time they both come into view there are pieces of it stuck in random places. Shreds in his hair, page fourteen clinging to the denim of his jeans, Snoopy crushed in a perched claw and somewhere…last nights game score judges the lot of everyone trapped amid tail feathers as it is. A low if not slightly irritated ton rolling out of him.

“Nei’der o’us.”

💙: who is more protective?

“Me.”

The ton of the single word answer is confident, defiant and perhaps a little…flat all on the same coin. And somewhere there’s a rustle of feathers. A sound he very much does not see fit to acknowledge.

💚: who tends to get sick more often? who is better at taking care of the other?

The question gives him pause. The only indication of it of course being his gaze becomes unfocused upon the page he was reading. Because he can not remember a moment ever when the bird was ever…sick. Hurt yes. Sick? Not so much. But neither is he very willing to admit how often he was under the weather. Because just because he can’t die doesn’t mean he couldn’t get sick and stay that way until better or momentary not death took him.

“Bout d’same oi’ d’ink.”

And no he isn’t going to explain at all how exactly a bird could take care of anyone. Let alone to the degree the question implied.

💜: who said “i love you” first? or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first?

Yellow and green shift up to the tiny woman. A wave of his tongue between lips, and gently clicking over teeth. Trying to gauge how serious Beth is actually being, verses trying to make a joke. And there’s a sound that comes and goes that could have been a scoff in another life; but it lacks the malice.

“We been companions for longer d’an even ye great great great grandfa’der be o’d’ough’, lass. She be comin’ an’ goin’ as she pleases. An’ oi’ dunna be leavin’ o’forwardin’ o’ddress when oi’ move. Love….”

There be a shake of his head, a chuckle that only hitches his features into something hinting at amusement.

“She be o’bird, Be’d….o’friend aye…bu’ o’bird.”

#brooklynislandgirl #quothesquills #Maybe He Knows Hes Drunk Maybe He Knows Shes The One Maybe She Does Too || Quothe and Luka #Return To Sender || Answered Asks #Wolves Do Not Lose Sleep Over The Opinions Of Sheep || Que

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ronmanmob · 5 years

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1. If you had to change your muse’s FC for one day, who would you pick? 2. NSFW rp — yes or no? Why? 3. Do you usually prefer chat/short replies, or long/para/novella replies?

Hello lovely person! To your questions!

1. I’d probably pick James Purefoy - this chap here:

2. I will NSFW rp, but only if the characters have chemistry and the mun is of age. The of age bit there is obvious, but chemistry's a must because I don't like forcing interactions between characters. Written or not, they're people to me and forcing them into situations they'd not get into as individuals just feels wrong to me.

3. I like all kinds of replies :3 Some come easier sometimes than others, but I enjoy all kinds and welcome anyone who follows me to start them with me/approach me about starting them/throw random memes at me all the time

#quothesquills #fankoo for the question darling!

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ronmanmob · 5 years

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Have you ever.... had fantasies about someone unavailable to you?

‘Course I ‘av. There’s a lot’a people in th’world tha’ I find beau’iful bu’ ‘oo don’t find me beau’iful in return. Fink bu’ don’t touch is me policy wiv them, aye? Can fink wha’ I like so long as they’re left be by it.’

#quothesquills #//fankoo for the question hunny <3

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