#Mahalo!Tagg <333

[brooklynislandgirl]

📸 Cisquito

I see your face every time I dream || Accepting

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #Light Up The Dark|Cisco Ramon #Vibe With Me|Cisco and Beth #S*T*A*Rlight |Arrowverse au #All Our Tomorrows|DC #{{He is just so precious}}

[brooklynislandgirl]

Playlist: Dance like no one’s watching

Tunes || Accepting

I. Juke Joint Jezebel || KMFDM II. Head Hunter || Front 242 III. Get Your Body Beat || Combichrist IV. Love Shack || B-52s V. Pasifika || Basher Toe VI. Unomathemba || Ladysmith Black Mambazo VII. O Ke Ahi Lonoma'kua || Sonny Ching and Hālau Nā Mamo O Puʻuanahulu VIII. Jungle Life {Tarzan Boy} || Baltimora IX. Avatar || Dead Can Dance X. Odile's Coda from Swan Lake || Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

~*~ {{Of Odile's 32 fouettes, Beth can maybe, maybe produce three, possibly four. Her form continues to be atrocious, and more than once her leg has given out from under her. The damage to her leg is too severe to allow her to practice ballet.}}

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #She's Talking to Angels {Bethisms} #Making Wishes on Passing Cars|Answered Asks

[brooklynislandgirl]

How much fapping is too much fapping

Things That Make You Squirm || Accepting

"Well, I s'pose..any kine is really too much, if you t'ink about it. Exposin' yaself t' nicotine, even if it much healt'ier dan smokin' cigarettes, or toxic metals like nickle, chromium, tin, lead, aluminium. Not to mention acrolein dat can cause irreversible lung damage, an' of course da polypropylene glycol..." Clearly Beth had misheard him, had mistaken the shape of Remy's lips though that seems to not as common as when she speaks to other people. And when he repeats the word? She confesses to: "I don' know what means dat." It's a slow process and she can almost feel him wanting to tell her 'nevermind' which is something she's far more used to than she should ever be, but Remy seems to have a wealth of patience for her. With a little creative sign language and a deliberate careful enunciation she goes from knitted brows and nodding along to the revelation of wide, wide, yes, and her mouth forming an almost perfect "oh." Yes, okay. "Uhm. I'm not sure? Medically speakin' I'd say when it start to chafe or hurt? Even all da lubrication natural or oddahwise won't stop a friction burn completely. But I mean...as long as ya havin' fun an' dere's no pain. Well, you know your body bes'." She looks away then. "An' before you aks...I don'...I don' really practice self-stimulation. Don' really get any kine out of it an' it just...it feels so very pointless."

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #Le Diable Blanc|Remy~Gambit~LeBeau #Fireflies|Remy and Beth #Don't Say the M Word|X-Men au #Reborn on the Bayou|Louisiana #Lost in Translation || N S F W

[brooklynislandgirl]

15. Do you have any piercings?

A Will and A Way || -

For a moment she thinks she has to have misheard Cisco. Not because what he said came across as though he'd been gargling mouth-wash with his lips pressed together while he was underwater. No, rather than the Charlie Brown Teacher sound effects, every word is clear and sharp and absolutely his voice in her ears though he's a respectable distance ~the other side of the table~ from her. Such an unexpected question and heard in a way she's unused to manages to scrunch her face in confusion. First, Cisco is never really comfortable talking about things like that. Idle discourse while they're working ranges the gamut of favourite video games, worst comic adaptations on streaming services, the nature of scientific advancement and the ethics they are bound in. Whenever she teases him about anything personal or untoward he tends to deflect with shyness and humour and in a lot of ways it feels like she's torturing him for no real reason. Second, she can't begin to understand why exactly he was asking. Was he considering getting his own piercings? Is he seeing someone and he needs to get some advice about how to work his way around them? Which brings up a more important question which is why he hadn't mentioned he'd met someone? Since when had she been out of the loop and how had she missed something so huge? "Uh." Ah yes, the eloquence of her intellect. Any day now, they're going to come along and confiscate her S*T *A*R Lab ID card and send her packing. Exactly what the Admiral would expect and would use at his pleasure to flay her alive. She keys in one more sequence before she slides out of her chair and comes around to Cisco's side of the table. This is a show-and-tell matter. She turns her head to the left so he can see her ear plain as day, and the four total she has there. "Lobe, and upper lobe," she says, pointing to the two lowest and most natural looking ones. Today, there's a crescent moon with a jewelled star in the lobe, an actual diamond solitaire in the upper. "Tragus" This is the opal stud in the bit of the ear attached to her upper cheek. Then she touches the silver ring and ball on the upper outer rim of her ear. "Helix." Then she shifts and offers him her right profile and the three there. The bar is the first one she points out. "Industrial." A matching solitaire diamond in the upper lobe, then a sort of tribal faux ruby in the lobe. "Bu wait, dere's more," she winks. She never takes her eyes off his face as she reaches down and unbuttons her jeans from first to last, and shimmies the denim down low enough that he gets a decent view of black lace against her skin. Three little aquamarine studs draw the eye to her narrow hip bone. "Sub-dermal implant. Dis one I got talked into when I was small kine tipsy." John had told her it was for protection. He'd held her head and whispered into her ear until the very last thing she was thinking about was someone cutting into her flesh and implanting metal into her body. If she was honest with herself, she's pretty sure John could have talked her into anything that night, and all the ones that came after before he disappeared from her life. But Cisco doesn't need to know that. To cover the sudden change in her expression, she turns around, back to him, and raises her shirt up a little. "An' I always keep small kine of home with me wherevah I go. Dis is symbolic of my aumakua, my islands, an' dere beauty." She doesn't mention or show him the other tattoos. They haven't gotten quite that close. "Now I'ma beatcha t' da punch an' say… no I don' got nipple piercings or ones…ah… down dere. I don' see da appeal, an' hand f' God, as a medical doctor, havin' dem can actually cause you to eventually lose sensitivity in dose places. So if ya considerin' piecings on ya… bits… my advice is…yeah, naw, brah."

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #tbd|Cisco Ramon #tbd|Cisco and Beth #S*T*A*RLight|Arrowverse Au #All Our Tomorrows|DC verse #Lost in Translation || N F S W #piercings tw #tattoos tw

[brooklynislandgirl]

What’s something they’ve mildly been afraid of before? Not a huge trauma, something small?

Tell Me No Questions... || Accepting {{@mynameisanakin for reasons}}

She does not understand. How the Senator can stand having so many people desecrating her private apartments, the chamber where she sleeps. They trample her privacy the way they do her rugs. Not that it's the woman's fault. This had been the second closest attempt made on her life. Were it not for Anakin They're both to blame, honestly. Him for talking her into being bait, regardless of how willingly she agreed, her for letting him make his plan sound attractive enough to allow it to come to full fruition. She sees at least four ersatz copies of the Senator gading about in simple night clothes ~does Naboo participate in cloning, or was the gene pool simply that shallow~ and remembers that they are handmaids. Decoys as it were. Not a very good job done, clearly. The Force here is dim to her. A hint of Master Kenobi's general grumpiness lingers in the outer rooms. It's in this one, the Senator's bedroom, that she feels it most strongly and she would admit that it's shaded in all the hues of Anakin. The red of his adrenaline bleeding into the yellows of impatience. The shades of blue that tinge his clarity of purpose and-- --and she shudders.

Kouhuns. The halves of their corpses ~bisected courtesy of Anakin's lightsabre~ are corpse-white in the bright lights, but somehow still look grotesque. The smell of them scrunch her nose and she has to do her level best to not cover her face. It's not that Melakeni is frightened of all insects or arthropods, some are quite lovely and long before she left home she had an entire hive of hawkwasps just as lethal as these things but entirely exquisite. Her dislike comes specifically with worm like creatures. How often does Anakin recall saving her sanity by gently removing common garden slugs while they were about their chores, or receiving lessons together from other Masters during the course of their training? Before they were apprenticed and often pulled apart she has lost count, and now? Now it is a fond memory. Well, for one of them. Keni does not relish the creeping sensation down her spine of their sliminess. She doesn't enjoy the meditative thought experiment that somehow they are digesting her from the inside out. And if she thinks about Anakin curious enough to try and lick one? Utterly makes her gorge rise. She stops one of the cl…handmaidens. Something beginning with an S… "You, girl. Carefully encase those things-" she points to the kouhun remains "-into specimen jars, and put them in that satchel. I will then remove them from the Senator's apartment." "Yes ma'am." A pause. "Are you quite alright? You…you look a little green-" Melakeni turns on one booted heel, does not have the civility to answer her.

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #Leaves from the Dreaming Tree|Melakeni Head Canons #With Her Tapestries Red|Padme and Melakeni #Honourable Mention|Anakin Skywalker #Honourable Mention|Sabe #Across the Universe|SW au #Scintillating Light|Coruscant

[brooklynislandgirl]

🌙 moon: do any of your OCs have dark backstories or secrets they’re trying to keep?

Porch Talk || Accepting {{ @mynameisanakin, @rugini, for reference}}

The Secret Life of Plants Weirdly enough, Melakeni Ivers is maybe the only muse I have regardless of fandom, that does not in fact have some tragic backstory. She was a wanted child of her father's. Vice Admiral, His Royal Highness, Prince Reliru Ivers of Nul dotes on his daughter even now, and is immensely proud of her voluntary service being an Advanced Scout amongst the Jedi. Between his husband's work and Keni's, Zelos II's knowledge of the galaxy has been immeasurably expanded. Baz Aktra, smuggler and Prince Consort, loves his daughter just as deeply, and understands her better than she may realise. She grew up happy and well adjusted on her homeworld. In fact, it wasn't until she left to join the Jedi Order that she had any secrets worth keeping.

The first of course is that she is not human or near human, as everyone presumes, and she goes to great lengths to pretend to be. She has learned to control her nastic responses to mimic a heartbeat even though she lacks that organ. She has learned to mask her fear of the dark, and uses the Force to move around in places that she might normally be blinded in due to the absence of light.

Her second secret is exactly what type of Jedi she is. On the surface she is a consular, a consummate healer and diplomat who very much seeks to serve the Living Force. Beneath that, she has been trained for a much darker service, one the Jedi, wise and powerful as they are, do not even admit as being part of their beliefs. While Guardians and Sentinels are known to carry out diplomacy and negotiation at the end of their lightsabers if need be, Consulars rarely use theirs. But her service is not entirely bloodless. Sometimes keeping the peace means removing the thorn from the galaxy's paw in an expedient and permanent manner. Her master chose her specifically because her unique biology is well suited to incubating certain poisons to aid in this removal.

Her third secret is...only a secret to those utterly incapable of empathy. Those who choose not to see, hear, or feel anything outside of themselves. The secret is, of course, how utterly and devotedly she loves Anakin Skywalker. To Keni, Anakin is the physical embodiment of the Living Force. He is the heart that beats outside of her chest. Anyone who observes the pair together can see that they are connected in ways that defy explanation, one mind and spirit existing in two different bodies. Extensions of one another with an inseparable bond within the Force. They commune with one another across millions of stars without effort. Their entire life within the Order has been an extensive courtship ritual in their own way, neither viewed as such nor unimaginable as being anything else. And to that extent, Anakin is first and foremost her priority in all things, with nothing coming before him.

#mahalo!Tagg <333 #The Dreaming Tree|Melakeni Ivers #Images of Broken Light|Anakin Skywalker honourable mention #Star Man|Baz Arktra honourable mention

[brooklynislandgirl]

is there a ship you used to like, but not anymore?

A Little Turtle Talk || Accepting Shout out to: @big-d-little-i-big-n-little-ozzo

I used to really like the father/son dynamic between Gibbs and Tony on NCIS but as I have a friend now who is an amazing and carefully written Tony that it is now hard to see it without the lens of thought, time, and discussion put into the rp that makes the canon show just a dumpster fire. I have had a ship I've written in a heretofore unmentioned Fandom that was fun at first but that quickly became a nightmare. It was an interspecies relationship, and the wife, whom I played: 1. Married as a political means to spare the husband's life. 2. Realised after some time that the husband was little more than a child. 3. That she had more fulfilment in the cold war with his adopted father than she ever found in him. 4. Discovered that half-breed children were likely a terrible idea, and that she would only speak to her son once he grew up. However, she absolutely adored said son's best friend, who she did look on like another son. Even though he wasn't hers. And never would be. And I may or may not be able to hear an exceptionally ANGRY River rising somewhere in the distance. 5. Did not take long to realise that the Husband's permanent tormentor was actually the kind of Soulmate she was looking for, and that made things very awkward because they were the best of friends and the husband proceeded to make threats, and at least once found the balls to make them come true. Once, Johnny. 6. Finally had had just about enough, and effectively served up a divorce with a steel-gauntleted backhand to the boy-husband's mouth in front of Queen and Court. When said Queen told her to change her mind, there was a revolt and the Wife ended up essentially withdrawing the kingdom's entire military support back into the woods where they belonged and changed her name back to Miss Doesn't Give a Fuck What You Think. 7. Last I heard, she's still pining over a particular Captain's etchings. And being Immortal and Bitter.

{{8. I suspect the mun of Said Captain, Said Other Son, and Bff/Tormentor is going to read this and snicker. Because yes, that particular mun and I are still thick as thieves...or Rangers, if you prefer.}}

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #The Turtle Speaks|Mun Answered Asks

[brooklynislandgirl]

@southern-belle-outcasts  {{XX}} Though Beth is by no means a Stormwife, wherever she resides does tend to have more rainy days than it normally might. Today is no exception; dawn has not yet reached up to the heavens that it might paint radiant hues at the edges of the cold, cloudy sky. The rain is mist, a fine drizzle that clings to everything it touches, and that makes her bed a more comfortable place to drowse in. Beth is awake and not sure when she’s going to sleep next. Her sheets still smell like John. His skin, cigarette smoke, whatever he was keeping in his flask these days, and the various spices from that pouch of incense that often lives in that secret pocket of his trenchcoat. Of course she hadn’t expected him to stay. His appearances in her life were few and far between now. Sometimes just glimpses, sometimes a few days for recovery.  From the first sight of him in her doorway, slouched against the frame, that lopsided grin of his on his exhausted features, to the way he puts his arm around her waist and nudges a knee between hers to lean in and whisper ‘...’Lo, luv.’, to the moment he all but vanishes before her eyes? Beth has never once refused him. And perhaps more the fool she is for it.

Maybe it’s a sign of stupidity, or at least foolish hope, when her heart leaps in her chest, hearing the phone chirp at her. She didn’t stop to think that it’s a generic ringtone, rather than a snippet of Sarah McLachlan’s Building a Mystery. You come out at night That's when the energy comes And the dark side's light And the vampires roam But no, the words on the screen ~blurry at the edges without her glasses on~ are not meant for her. She doesn’t know anyone named Gideon, but the name Magic Bastard... she shakes her head. Not the first time he’s done this to her. {Text}: Constantine’s not here, but I’m his apprent She forgets she’s not his apprentice any more. {Text}: Hi. Sorry. Constantine isn’t here at the moment but I’m an associate of his. Is there something you need help with?

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #Temp Tag|Sara Lance #Temp Tag|Sara and Beth #Temp Tag|Legends of Tomorrow AU #All Our Tomorrows|DC Verse #The Laughing Magician's Apprentice|Constantine/Hellblazer AU #Honourable Mention|John and his effing face

[brooklynislandgirl]

69. What turns you off?

Generating Steam Heat || Accepting

The question isn't surprising, not with the way her fingers circle around his wrist and halting the slow climb of his fingers up the trellis of her thigh. Without his gloves there's a combination of textures at the border of her skirt hem. The words are breathed against the length her jaw. Tactile expression that she cannot misunderstand because there's a solidity to it and somehow it bypasses her ears and etches itself full in her brain. She groans almost soundlessly and the hand that had been recently lodged in his hair slides down across his cheek and drops to his shoulder. She pushes herself up and away from him, the sparks between them becoming banked. She's not angry, she's not even annoyed. She wouldn't call it hurt either. She isn't sure what the question makes her feel. "I..I don' really know," she says eventually. She twists her lips to one side, equally ambiguous as her answer as to whether it's a frown or merely a subconscious facial tick. "Mebbe mo' beddah question is wha' works for me. I…I like deep breath-stealin' kisses, gentle bites. I like da way ya hands feel on my skin." She glances up into his face, past his fine features and into those black and red eyes that intrigue her beyond words. "I t'ink dat mebbe I don' like so much how in movies an' in some stories when da man talk stink…ah… say mean stuff. More dan jus' vulgar, but I'm not real use t' talking like dat eiddah. But callin' ya woman a female of loose morals-- s word, uh dat oddah one….means same kine ~implyin' bein' paid for sex~ is really gross." She knows that's muddled but she's not about to spell it out any further than she already has. "Degradation in general. When I work as a nurse I got enough urine an' defecation on me dan I care t' t'ink about an' I don' see it havin' a place when ya try f' make love wi' someone. Don' wan someone who only interested in me because of da family money an' prestige, t'inkin' dat dey can use me like a personal ATM. An…An I don' like roses." She scoots back on the sofa toward its arm, setting him free. "Wha' about you? I mean you have more experience, not da kine of man who get turn what wi' ya charm an' ya handsome good looks, so I feel like ya have way more experience. Are dere any t'ings you really like dat I should know about?"

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #Le Diable Blanc|Remy ~Gambit~Lebeau #Fireflies|Remy and Beth #Don't Say the M Word|X-Men au verse #The Crescent City|New Orleans #Reborn on the Bayou|Louisiana #Lost in Translation || N S F W

[brooklynislandgirl]

♡x3 and bonus for heart for Keni

...Knocking Outside Your Door... || - I. Beth brings Nilza to the edge of the clearing, after slipping a talisman around her neck and sprinkling her with a mixture of salt and creek water. She says it will keep her Cousins from smelling the woman's human presence, which leaves a lot to be explained. Kinfolk are allowed at moots, she says, as long as they know their place, but outsiders aren't exactly welcome. An old, frail looking woman in cargo pants and a plaid shirt, dressed in bones, feathers, and different kinds of rocks takes centre-stage in front of the fire. The small gathering of people and wolves gather around her and settle down. She pulls a pipe from her pocket and loads it with tobacco. "...S' Bessie Hardwinter. We call her Old Bear Woman. She's gonna tell stories." Beth's thin face practically shines as bright as the moon, her eyes aglow from within. Her voice is barely a whisper against Nilza's ear. "Not somethin' yer ever gonna forget."

{{Beth while a knowledgeable Granny woman in her own right, was never taught to read or write, and stories ~whether read from actual books, or paraphrased from television and movies which is another thing she doesn't have access to~ are the greatest treasures she can imagine, and can listen to them over and over again.}} II. Peeling potatoes for a church pot latch is not something Beth expected Nilza to be particularly thrilled about. She's got very strong opinions on religion and God that Beth doesn't necessarily agree with, but doesn't argue in order for there to be peace with the Hunter. Still, the knife is steady in her hand. Maybe it's soothing for her, using her skills for something that doesn't involve blood. Beth keeps up the small talk, more than once looking up and smiling. And when everything is trimmed and peeled, the vegetables going into the great iron pot in her fire place with water and salt and herbs, what's left to do in the waiting is to clean up. "Put 'em outside for the hogs and the earth. There's a fancy word for it but I don' remember what it is." Funny though, how while they're scooping up their scraps, their hands keep brushing one another's. {{Holding hands. No, seriously.}}

III. As they dry off having combated the heat of the day with a dip in the creek, Beth shyly approaches Nilza with an old comb in hand. She sits on the a step two lower than the porch, her back turned to the other woman. "If it's not a burden, of course." So polite, painfully so at times. But even wet and without conditioner, the inky wet strands are like corn-silk only thicker. "My brother used to do it for me after it got to be so long. Never could get the braids right but he tried." She smiles, and closes her eyes, lifting her face to the warm spring sun. {{Brushing and styling hair, or really any form of grooming behaviour is something very rare for Beth, but a thing she associates with the best kind of memories. An innate intimacy, she's glad to return the favour of someone with whom she's close.}}

~*~

"There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force." {{>.> Make of it what you will, cause Melakeni refuses to cooperate. Big surprise.}}

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #She's Talking to Angels {Bethisms} #Making Wishes on Passing Cars|Answered Asks #Leaves From the Dreaming Tree|Melakeni Ivers HC #Smoke on the Water|Appalachian verse #Across the Universe|SW verse

[brooklynislandgirl]

What is your muse’s opinion on gossip? Do they ever gossip, encourage it, discourage it?

A Little Bit Of This and That || Accepting "Oh, no, I'd nevah." She doesn't know why the man's opinion of her should be so important to her beyond the obvious, but it is. He's the only friend she's made in her new life and were he to abandon her due to a defect of character, she wasn't likely to survive very well. Beth absolutely believes in death by loneliness as much as she believes that honesty is the only way to live. Which means she's providing context to her possibly too quick an answer. "Firs' of all... I don' hear people really good. Mos' of da time if I no can see deir mout' or deir eyes, den I... well. You say 'Wan some coffee?' an' I might heah you say 'bring him loam fossils'. Makes collectin' information an' sharin' it like some weird game of telephone. "Second, people tend t' make fun of me when I talk bird, because it's easier and familiar to me. I'm sure where an' how you grew up, ya undahstan'. Our pigin is nevah much different dan ya creole or cajun. In fact, in academic circle, dat's wha' dey call it, Hawai'ian Creole. But I been told no can speak, no can make conversation li'dat. "An' lastly..." Her gaze drops from his midnight-and-pomegranate eyes, down to his mouth, then down to their feet. Lastly, no one really cares what Beth has to say. She's not the most interesting person in the world, nothing she could want to say is earth-shattering in any way, and there've been people like her, people who have lived with that ugly M word banner over them far longer than she has. "It's kinda rude, an' I find it abhorrent."

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #She's Talking to Angels {Bethisms} #Making Wishes on Passing Cars|Answered Asks #Fireflies|Remy and Beth #Don't Say the M word|X-men verse au

[brooklynislandgirl]

feeling for each other in the dark~ The deep dark of the new moon was not something Nilza ever felt comfortable with. The lack of light pollution to cast a glow of false twilight against the clouds simply served to show just how little any lights illuminated in the mountains, creating a radius that did not allow her mere human eyes to see beyond. “How do you deal with it, the darkness? It’s feels more naked than all clothes being gone.”

Touching || - There's a nip in the air, the cold breath of early autumn settling in around the mountain. Already short days are growing darker earlier, and that sort of remote oppression tends to drag around one's heels like wet woollen clothes when one hasn't grown up accustomed to it. The soft complaint Nilza makes reminds Beth that her friend is a city child, one as strange to her hills as Beth would be in a big place, like Gatlinburg or Pigeon Forge.

But fortunately, Beth is a woman of endless patience and deep empathy. She stops in her tracks, her voice a low tone just above a whisper. She doesn't fear her lands, but she does respect all who dwell within. "Hold still," she says, and seems to pivot on her boot heels though she is sure the other cannot see what she's done. "There's many ways. Kerosene lamps an' candle lanterns. There's growin' up in it an' leanin' how it's suppose t' feel an' on nights like this?"

Her hand takes hold of Nilza's upper arm just below the shoulder. Cold fingers run the length of the woman's sleeve-clad arm until she finds bare wrist. Her thumb rubs a few slow circles on the inner skin of it, smooth beneath work-worn fingers. There's a pattern to those touches even if they aren't immediately discernible, classified as anything other than caresses. What she's doing though is literally magick. A tug of starlight drawn down into her gaze and she can see into the shadows and the dark like it's twilight. Now, as she locks fingers with Nilza, she's offering up her the same sight. If she accepts it. Nilza doesn't have to and if she pushes back, Beth will feel it. "Sometimes, ya gotta get one over on that ole darkness."

#mahalo!Tagg <333 #The Great Unknown|Nilza Valdez #Into the Wyld|Nilza and Beth #Criss Angel is STILL a douchebag|SPN au #Smoke on the Water|Appalachia #Copperhead Road|Tennessee

[brooklynislandgirl]

Have they had sex before knowing they’re asexual and how did they feel about it? 

The Real Feeling || Accepting

She kneels there in the dirt, hands caked with it, patting new plant clippings into place now that their roots have grown enough to be transplanted. These had spent the last month or so waiting for the spring thaw, inside little Mason jar pots. There's no waste anywhere on the mountain; the dress she wears is clearly one handed down, about seventy-years out of fashion, and three sizes too big. Her feet are bare, but the boots by her door are also old. Everything that can be repurposed is, everything that can't is not enough to leave an ecological footprint. The sun will vanish soon, but she looks up and is bathed in its golden light.

"Oh, psh." The sound she makes is part whistle, part snort. A strangled little laugh that barely makes it past her lips. "Andy'd never let me go sparkin' an' none of the pack have shown any interest." Colour creeps into her cheeks as she swipes her brow with the back of an impossibly dainty wrist. "Firstly, I ain't nothin' but kinfolk an' really not to a one of them. Secondly, the elders know I ain't got the right parts t' make little ones, which if not for my skills at bein' a granny woman would make me a burden to the tribes. "One time, though... Frost-Rends-The-Bane....my friend John, you met him. He was pride-drunk after a successful hunt, an' was howlin' his victory round the fires, an' I guess he got his blood up. Scooped me up an' spun me around til all the stars were a blur an' he stole a kiss. Now, I should have known better but I let him cause I ain't never...done that before. Imagine my sincere disappointment then where there weren't no butterflies in my belly, an' no women's fire to answer his. I don' think he liked it much either, because he blinked at me owlish an' set me down before apologisin' best he could. "Made me realise, Gaia is merciful. I can't do my part for Her, an' so She took away that part'a me that would want to." She goes back to her seedlings and lets her hair fall into her face. She doesn't want Nilza to see the loneliness or sadness that comes with admitting such a thing outloud, no matter how many times she repeats it to herself like a mantra or a prayer, in hopes that if she does it enough, it'll all be true. That she will be content, fulfilled by taking care of the young cubs and helping where she can instead of having a mate and children of her own, some day. "Wha' about you? You're different. Spirits say so. They say yer heart's been broken, and they grieve with you."

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #The Great Unknown|Nilza Valdez #Into the Wyld|Nilza and Beth #Criss Angel is STILL a Douchebag|SPN verse au #Animal Crackers|Werewolf the Apocalypse #Smoke on the Water|Appalachia

[brooklynislandgirl]

NOPE x3

Nope Patrol || Not Accepting

I. One liners/Super short single para. I understand everyone has their style, a way they are comfortable playing with others, and I get that sometimes, time/muse/creativity/real life prevents people from spending hours upon hours around here, writing. However, I tend to be a wordy mother....<allows you to finish that word in any way you want to>. I have a hard time keeping anything to a single para or less, unless it's dash crack, a quick flash of an idea, etc.

I am also old and cranky, as most star-turtles are. If I am not given anything to work with, I am going to be disappointed, with resting nurse face. If I feel I am carrying the whole story on my shoulders, chances are I will politely decline and move on. That being said, I also know some great people who tend to 3 para or less, but it's well thought out, it's funny {to me}, it suits the moment, etc. And I adore them for it. Will it stop me from sending back an entire doctoral thesis? No, but I thank them in advance for their patience with me. Do I expect matching length? Never. But give me something, please.

II. If You Want Something, Ask: I am not an ogre {I might be a quarter troll on my mother's side, but you know...who isn't?}. If there's something you'd like to rp, if there's a thing you need to know, if you're curious about whatever blah blah, hit me up in dms, on discord, through email, carrier-pigeon, whatever. Like say you have a hard time understanding Beth's accent, let me know and I will write it in plain English. If you're uncertain about a verse, or a plot, talk to me. I promise to only bite in such a way that it's enjoyable for everyone. But please don't make assumptions or be shitty passive-aggressive on the dash. I am a grown up. With real feelings. I always believe you are too.

III. Don't fuck with my friends. Don't send anon-hate and think it's clever shit. I've been around almost as long as the internet has been a thing. Yes I am that old. I will hear about it. I will be pissed. I will not put up with other people's fuckery. Nor should anyone else, honestly. And it doesn't matter if I have known them for years, or minutes.

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #The Turtle Speaks|Mun Answered Asks

[brooklynislandgirl]

Are there any physical items that make your muse happy? For Beth

It Came From The Lost Meme Lagoon || -

With Nilza in the only good chair, Beth sits by the fire while occasionally feeding a new log to keep it burning bright. Eventually the woman will go to bed, the brass affair in the corner of the squat single room cabin and Beth will take the chair. Kind of like one of those sliding puzzle things she'd seen once at the fair but couldn’t afford to buy. Andy would have made one for her but wood had been scarce that winter and they needed it more for survival.  She looks around the cottage at all the things that have been repurposed one way or another. She’s never had anything new, or anything entirely of her own. She doesn’t really have anything of value either, not the way most folks mean it. The more mystically inclined could all but feel the talismans and the fetishes cluttering up her small space, held in trust by the cousins that make up a third of her small community. Physical manifestations of spirits and of Gaia’s mercy or retribution, some that she’s made herself, others that are magick solidified. “Uhm. I got me a stuffed turtle....” She points toward the bed. It is a small and almost hideous thing, its green fur loved to near non-existence, with mismatched eyes ~one beady black, the other a milky coloured button~ and bits of cloth making up part of the shell that’s torn over the years. “One time when I was little, my brother won it for me at this carnival came through town. An’ I’ve had it since. Special to me cause it was a gift an’ because... Once Turtle was a great spirit. Carries the world on his back. He was the definition of honour an’ steadfastness. Gentle an’ sturdy, he encouraged his children to defend first an’ attack second. But he was lost long long ago an’ no one hears Turtle’s voice no more.” That is enough of the story that she isn’t violating any part of the Litany, and not the still painful loss suffered by all of the people. “The quilt there, too.” It’s nearly as much of a mess as the turtle, old and sun-faded. It’s comprised of variously patterned squares, washed and saved from whatever the original piece might have been, some handed down through the generations. It’s re-sewn when it needs to be, with new scraps. “My great great some’n like that grandmother made the original one, an’ more gets added to it as years go by. It’s full of love and warmth.” She rises to her feet and fetches them more of her Apple pie to steel themselves against the nip of cold. “Things though. Ain’t never really had much t’ worry about, an’ don’ see the point of holdin’ on to it. You can replace ‘em, but you can’t replace your kin, your land... people you love.”

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #Into the Wyld|Nilza and Beth #Criss Angel is STILL a douchebag|SPN verse #Smoke on the Water|Appalachia #Copperhead Road|Tennesee

[brooklynislandgirl]

Full incense 👀

Whispering Smoke || Accepting

* Full Incense: Name one of your favourite shipping tropes!

Brooding Boy, Gentle Girl.

The rope is the brooding, angsty, loner boy ends up with a sweet, gentle girl who will patiently coax him out of his moods. It’s the neighbour-trope to All Girls Want Bad Boys, except the boy isn’t bad, just moody...whether because of trauma, mental illness, or intense introverted personality, or any dozen other reasons. Sometimes, he’ll be an Anti-Hero, or he’ll have a Dark and Troubled Past. Sometimes he’s a Hurting Hero. Whatever is happening, he’s just waiting for someone to draw him out of his shell, and that person will be the Gentle Girl. Unlike her misunderstood sister the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, the gentle girl doesn’t actively try to shake the brooding boy off his foundation, but instead she patiently and persistently offers kind words, sweet smiles, companionship, and hope.

~*~ I mean if you look at my writing, you can clearly see this is my most favourite and beloved trope. There is something so sweet and pure about it, having the kind of time and ability to help someone process their traumas in a safe place. Helping them overcome insecurities by being understanding and not seeing it as a weakness. 

To me, it doesn’t matter which muse is which. Let ya boys be soft and sweet and emotionally intelligent while your girls are tired and angry and confused. Let your boys lay their heads in comfortable laps while your girls run their fingers through their hair.

Let it be a slow burn. These things don’t happen overnight. But let it happen. Personal growth on both sides, mutual respect and comfort. I will read the shit out of this, and write it to. This gives me life.

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #The Turtle Speaks|Mun Answered Asks