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This blog is now an archive.

Anyone who wants to find my other characters can... well, they’re ridiculously easy to find if you look in the right places. Butyeah. This particular account is archived in everything but name.

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Coraline’s Other Mother Cosplay

(Source)

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We’re different from who we are during the day

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Brontophobia

BRONTOPHOBIA: Our muses are caught in a storm together.

“Goddamnit.”

Even his physical eyes shut, James could see the storm on the horizon. They were headed right for it, and it was headed right for them. It was a game of chicken, and he was pretty sure the storm would come out on top. Hatches slammed shut as he slid down the bit of rigging he’d clambered up and the crew swarmed around the deck as they got closer to it. Sure, they could always turn around, but that damned thing would catch up to them eventually.

The worst part of it was that it was the middle of the night. Ro was asleep, and James had left his side for a few minutes to check how things were going on deck. He wasn’t that far away for long though, as his course took him straight into their cabin. How a door that old opened without a creak, he’d never know, and- and okay, maybe Ro wasn’t asleep. He was sitting on the end of the bed, pulling on a pair of boots.

“Took you long enough,”he teased. ��Were you walking slowly out there just to be dramatic?”

“We’re on a heavy-masted frigate and sailing right into a storm that looks like it’s right out of a motion picture.”

Roukan paused, a terribly wide smile on his face. “So you-”

“-Yeah. Yeah I did.” But hey, it looked pretty cool.

It was raining by the time they got back out on deck. Right. Maybe they were a bit closer to the storm than they’d thought. It was a bit difficult for the lich to balance, so he sighed and hovered as close to the deck as he could without scraping his feet on it. Ro rolled his eyes and offered his arm instead. Ships tossed, and if the waves got any bigger, his very damp husband would be left behind.

“I’ll be fine, let’s just do what we can to help.”

Which meant they split again. A fall wouldn’t kill James, so he went up into the rigging to take care of any ropes that caught or tangled. Ro was probably the strongest person on the deck, so he stayed there in order to take a bit of weight off the crew’s collective shoulders.

The ship creaked and crackled as it bowed and twisted to the left. The captain had decided that they were going to skirt around the worst of it. James hung on for his unlife as they went, instantly regretting his decision to make himself useful. Useful didn’t mean shit if you had to freeze up every so often. The worst part about it was that a rope had caught around his neck. Not much of a problem due to the fact that he couldn’t die, but very much of one considering the fact that he couldn’t really move until it was off of him. So he let his head go up in a puff of black, acrid smoke and the rope passed right through where his neck used to be. Crisis averted, though he’d take on quite a bit of water damage for it.

... Well, there was always time to dry off later. Maybe once the storm passed they could head back to their cabin and towel off.

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reblog if you’re a horror muse.

can be from movies, books, games, etc. please also write where your muse originates from in the tags. so if you’re from saw, write saw in the tags. if you’re an original character, write you’re an original character, and so on. that way it’s easy for me to group everyone accordingly.

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                         ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ɢᴏ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ тняσαт

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mads & hugh (x)

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Moody Drowned Trees by Stanley Zimny

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Phobia Drabble Prompts

Agateophobia: Your muse thinks they're going crazy, and mine is trying to talk them down.

Agliophobia: My muse nurses yours after an injury.

Agrizoophobia: Our muses encounter a wild animal.

Amnesiphobia: Your muse has forgotten mine, and mine is trying to make yours remember.

Angrophobia: My muse is furious at your muse.

Anthrophobia: My muse brings yours flowers.

Arsonphobia: Our muses are trapped in a burning building.

Asthenophobia: Your muse passes out in my muse's arms.

Atychiphobia: My muse comforts yours after a (real or perceived) failure.

Brontophobia: Our muses are caught in a storm together.

Catagelophobia: Your muse catches mine doing something embarrassing.

Chionophobia: Fluffy drabble about our muses playing in the snow.

Chorophobia: Our muses dance together.

Chrometophobia: My muse helps yours out of a financial crisis, or vice-versa.

Chronophobia: AU drabble about our muses in a different time era.

Cibophobia: My muse cooks a meal for yours.

Cleptophobia: Your muse steals something from mine.

Coimetrophobia: My muse visits your muse's grave.

Coitophobia: A smutty drabble about our muses.

Cyberphobia: Our muses talk in a chat room, but don't realize their chat partners are each other.

Dikephobia: My muse is pressing criminal charges against yours.

Dipsophobia: Our muses drinking together.

Ergophobia: My muse hires yours to work for them.

Gamophobia: Our muses get married.

Gerascophobia: Our muses meet each other forty years from now.

Gymnophobia: My muses accidentally sees yours naked.

Iatrophobia: My muse accompanies yours to a doctor's appointment.

Limnophobia: Your muse saves mine from drowning.

Lockiophobia: Our muses have a baby together.

Macrophobia: Our muses are waiting for something bad, and trying to distract each other from the thought.

Mastigophoiba: My muse punishes yours for something (either smutty or angsty, specify).

Melophobia: My muse performs a song for yours.

Merinthophobia: My muse finds yours tied or chained up.

Metrophobia: My muse writes a poem for yours.

Necrophobia: My muse just found out that yours has died.

Nosemaphobia: Your muse is ill, and mine is taking care of them.

Oneirophobia: My muse has a dream about yours.

Phasmophobia: Your muse is visited by my muse's ghost.

Soceraphobia: Your muse meets my muse's parents.

Zelophobia: My muse is feeling jealous of yours.

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“Probably very. It depends on the type of ritual and the skill of the one using it.” Uh-oh. Strap in, it’s time for a lecture. “Battlefield zombies are usually like what you'd see in a horror movie. They’re faster to raise, but they degrade quickly if you’re not actively spending energy to patch them up. Sapient zombies take longer and need to be fed as soon as they're raised. I'd say thralls are a subclass of that, but thralls aren’t even classed as undead.” This was exactly what he taught in school, of course he was gonna infodump. 

“Thralls are classed as unliving since all of their organs retain function and they retain any powers they had in life. For example, if I raise a werewolf as a regular zombie, they’ll be stuck as a normal run-of-the-mill human corpse unless I force a transformation. But if I raise one as a thrall, they’ll still function as a regular werewolf, with the added bonuses all thralls get. A strength boost, retroactive immortality, the ability to raise their own zombies... there’s a cost, of course. It takes someone as powerful as a lich to raise one, and it requires them to snap off a bit of their own soul to do it.”

“Okay, okay, hint taken.” His eyes lit up unexpectedly. “Though if you don’t mind me asking, how effective of a weapon would I be in a reanimated state? Would that depend on how fresh the corpse was? What other factors would come into it?” He’d rather not be part of some massive undead army if he could help it, but some part of him really didn’t want to be lumbering and ineffective if he was in that scenario.

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“Then who was wolf?”

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Boogs, the mun for  praefxctor, dreadnxught, and a whole slew of other characters is rad as hell and the reason why I gave Tumblr RP (and Tumblr in general) a fair shot. Great characters, great ideas, great writing, fantastic person.

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             James can do nothing but grin as he slides his arms down to hug Ro about as tightly as he possibly can for a moment. One of them still has to breathe, he reminds himself. So he loosens his grip a little and just nuzzles into his fiance’s shoulder, quietly shaking away like he’s about to achieve critical mass. He never in a million years thought that he’d find himself engaged. Not to a woman, not to a man, and certainly not to an alpha werewolf. Funny how things work out that way.

             He quietly repeats Ro’s words, slightly muffled by his shirt but nonetheless perfectly understandable. And he still shakes. It’s going to take some getting used to, but he feels free. So very free.

           “... We’re going to have to do so much planning.” He’s used to Victorian weddings, where everything is planned down to a wardrobe that depended on what time of day the ceremony takes place.

Ro drops today's headlines in James' lap whilst getting down on one knee, opening a small box with a golden band laid on the inside. He's smiling, direct. "We do not have to today, nor tomorrow, nor the next, but please do think about becoming my husband."

         Yeah he’s just going to sit there, glitching between human and corpse for a few seconds as soon as he manages to read the paper. Nothing’s wrong, he’s just trying not to cry. Once he figures out that stopping it isn’t really going to work, he slides forward and down and wraps his arms around Ro’s neck.

        “I’ve thought about it enough, love. I’d say yes even if you asked me in the middle of one of my classes.”

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