I LOVE. Having Multiple Threads With My Rp Partners !!its Like On Some Days I Feel Like Writing Long

I LOVE. having multiple threads with my rp partners !! it’s like on some days i feel like writing long stuff, on others i feel more like writing short stuff, sometimes i’d rather write some intense situations, and other times i’m more in the mood for lighthearted topics. having several different types of threads with a person enables me to keep rping with them even if i’m stuck @ a reply for another thread we’re having !! it’s great, honestly !? if you wanna have 1 more thread or 20 more threads /w me that’s 10/10 👌👌👌👌 just write that starter or send an ic ask & we’ll go from there or hmu for plotting k man i love threads i love writing all the things

Send 🫂 to just hug my muse. No reason. Hug them.

"Meanness can be found in the least of creatures, but when God made man the Devil was at his elbow. A creature capable of anything."

20 moody writing prompts compiled from William Shakespeare's M*cbeth

Unearned lectures annoy her even as impromptu lessons inspire her; right now, she’s feeling annoyed. (She tamps down on the emotion but it still flickers across her face.) Rakatak may feel this lesson on the evils of man is an earned or even necessary one, but it’s a one Anne already knows by heart.

“Next ye’ll be telling me that the cruelty of man is as wondrous as the mountains of Peru. If there’s a point to this speech, get to it. I only tolerate grandstanding from my commanding officers.”

He’s a handful, Jan, but somehow he’s proven to be a handful Anne doesn’t mind. He’s like the sea breeze: light, playful, whimsical. A breath of fresh air, he fills sails and lungs and joyful songs, flitting to and fro in his fancy. What is must be like to live so light of heart, Anne can’t even begin to guess.

Talk of chains and walls and worser fates bring to mind an spook story that she damned near tells—a rarity, especially away from the quiet of a sleeping ship—when he takes possession of her wrist and pulls her into the sea beside him as if she weren’t trying to keep her good boots dry, the prick! She lets out a disbelieving laugh (could’ve passed for a scoff if that ghost of a smile weren’t haunting her face) and shoves him to land arse-first in the water.

“Speak for yerself! The world could do with fewer menaces like you.” There’s no steel in her words, no venom, not even so much as a barb: the curse of her self-imposed contrarian streak rears its head most often as contradictions between word and fact. She would miss him if he were to go. More people could stand to follow in his way.

A world without Jan would be a poorer world indeed—but that’s a thing she can’t say. (It reeks of the exact sort of wanton fuckery she’s only just convinced the crew is outside of her nature. The kind of frivolous idiot shite steeped in sentimentality that they claim women are solely so prone to. A reason to cast Anne out of their company.) She settles for a smile and leans towards him, offering him a hand up. She has to hope it’s sufficient, being very nearly as rare as a compliment from her.

“I only meant—t’ain’t so bad, to go a-pirating again. Even if it is with some dick-shit gang of Dutchmen.” A frequent term of almost-endearment Anne liked to use. She’s hardly a woman famous for love of any flag that wasn’t black and boned, after all. “At least we’re none of us fucking English, hey?”

@neverhangd said : 'i know there are worse ways to stay alive.' to Jan

SHE IS THE FLAME WHICH DRAWS HIM IN time and time again akin to a moth fluttering around a candle. He can't help it, it is the red hair. Her words capture his attention as he spins around; his feet stuck in the wet sand of the beach nearly causing him to topple over as he does. ❝ Exactly ! You could be chained to a wall by a vengeful king for example ! ❞ JOY IS INFECTIOUS, even when Anne seems immune to it some days.

He reaches out to her and pulls her forward into the gentle waves of the water with him. Resistance is not an option. What is the going to do ? waste hollow threats and perfectly fine breath on him ? She couldn't kill him even if she tried. ❝ Or you could live in a world without music. That would mean you would live without me, I suppose. A horrible thought. ❞

My Neighbor: Oh, no! You’re going out to walk all alone?!

Me: I mean…I do it all the time. It’s a safe neighborhood.

Neighbor: You need to bring a pistol or a gun with you! (She’s not from here, hush.)

Me: Ahha, don’t worry! I always have my pistol-quick wit with me! 👉👉

Neighbor:

Me:

Neighbor:

Me: …Kay, gotta go. See ya!

"Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it."

20 moody writing prompts compiled from William Shakespeare's M*cbeth

Anne can’t help the curl of her lip as she looks into the mirror. She can appreciate what Pen’s trying to accomplish here, really she can—but all the lipstick in the world won’t make a maid of a pig.

“Being the flower en’t my strong suit,” she replies. She doesn’t know if Pen’s chosen Shakespeare on purpose or whether it was just a quote grabbed to suit the moment, but she’d like to think it’s the former. She knew the Bard better than even the Scripture!