Jul 25
clemency and her "special" "friends"
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clemency and her "special" "friends"
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@debutafin replied to your post “clemency and her "special" "friends"”:
special/ stands for snog pensive evasive collaborating inquisitive lesbian or sapphic
clemency approves of this acrostic poem. stamp of approval! maybe that's the A you needed, friend.
@debutafin asked:
🧠 Do you believe muses “have a mind of their own”?
do i think they ACTUALLY do? no. but i also kinda do lmao. a lot of my muses vary in how i write them and how they "talk" to me when i write them. some are very clear and i know exactly what they're going to do ... others i could not tell you what they're thinking until the words are right in front of me. there's a reason i often joke that i black out and wake up and suddenly there's a reply on my screen when it comes to some muses. you get into a groove and suddenly, you don't really know what you wrote, but it still makes sense enough. so like ... sort of?? yes?? yeah. especially certain muses.
[ 📜 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a story they love sharing with others ?
Robin's favorite story is the tale of Amaterasu and the Cave. A second favorite is Susano'o and Yamata-no-Orochi. Both are stories of gods helping each other, aiding humanity, and good prevailing over darkness.
The tale of Amaterasu and the Cave was told often in her home, because a variation of the story became the legend of the Sun Wolf that her clan created to foster the next miko who can seal the darkness.
Of course, Robin knows many old legends and folktales, as they are necessary homework for dealing with the yōkai.
HEADCANON EMOJI MEME [x] - @debutafin
please shave your head 🩷
WHAT IS THAT..? a voice, speaking to him in the night? a phantom within his dreams? well, whatever it is, it sure sounds like it knows what it's talking about... perhaps shaving his head will ease some of that weight upon his chest...
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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an INTERPOL AGENT shields an egg from a diverted, beach downpour⸻ x— ray vision does no justice against choppy waves, all GRIMM can do is wonder the color of the water. blue? green? purple? changing vision would mean letting the egg fall.
( holding it in her paw is not an option. )
she stops inside a bar & stops the first person near the door. "take this. please." an egg struggles to balance in one palm, held before kennie.
( happy easter!🐣 )
› @debutafin 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
THE TIPSY CLAMPERL was as good a place to seek shelter from the storm as any. it seemed that plenty of other people had followed the same train of thought. the sound of overlapping conversations drowned out the pounding of rain against the roof, distract from any claps of thunder overhead.
how many years would pass before those sounds were simply white noise? would it ever fail to make her start, to force her to recall how high the tides could reach?
kendria is the only patron of the crowded bar to turn her head towards the creak of the bar door swinging open. the way the woman stumbles in from the rain is nothing remarkable, nothing different from the way others have come in, but there's something in the way that she locks eyes with her that sends a shiver down her spine. it's urgent.
" what? why? " she submits to the request, taking the egg into her empty hands and pulling it towards herself, cradling it against her chest. " what's wrong with it? where did you find it? "
SESIL: “i think someone’s watching.”
MISC. PROMPTS. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 › @debutafin
THE WARNING WHISPERED into her ear is enough to startle her out of her relaxed, focused state. the fisherwoman had been hypnotized by the water's pulsation around her line, bait sunk into the water and awaiting a bite.
" where? " she hisses her reply, lifting her gaze to survey the woods that surrounded them. this was a sacred ritual, private, meant only for her, the water, and the fish below - well, and sesil, she supposed. in any case, those that threatened her peace and serenity were certainly unwelcome.
sure enough, when she lifts her head to gaze above the brush, she meets the stranger's gaze. they quickly turn away, first their head and then their body, sending the sound of breaking branches across the forest floor.
her head switches back to face sesil, brows pulled tightly together. just a little worried, though she probably has no real reason to be…
“ how long were they standing there? ”
their laundry basket.
item finder / accepting.
lucy's laundry basket usually rests atop the washer/dryer closet in her battle frontier apartment. she actually maintains a pretty tidy, normal routine, cycling her clothes once a week.
one the bottom of the basket, disorganized: her gym/workout clothes and super-casual wear (for when she's working in the garage with noland or having a beach day with the gang) and any sheets or items that her pokemon have soiled. (houseblend, bless his heart, tends to drip berry juice everywhere if he gets too riled up. vera also likes her toys washed regularly, even if the seviper has mangled them beyond recognition.)
on top of the basket, comfy: usually duster, bedded down and making a makeshift nest amongst the clothes. this seems like an unlikely place for the haughty oricorio-sensu, but she likes how dark and quiet it is in here. it's a perfect retreat away from her stressful day job (critiquing movies on lucy's flatscreen.)
the pike queen is notorious for leaving items in her pockets. duster manages to rescue most of them and has built up a small collection of crumpled phone numbers, dinner mints, coins, and other trinkets on the shelf above the appliances.
most of lucy's wardrobe can't be machine-washed--usually her leather pants, glittery jackets, sequined tops, etc.--and accumulates on the dryer until laundry day.