#【❂】ʏᴏᴜʀ тʜᴏᴜɢʜтѕ кɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ; ᴅᴏɴ’т тʜᴇʏ? ❛answered

[misfortuning]

which muse is the most problematic towards other muses?

how many years has it been — the inbox is a ravenous maw

it's definitely sabian, but on this blog i wanna say,,,,,probably siv tbh? don't get me wrong, isayah is a Problem(tm) alright, but he's not likely to make himself someone else's problem unless they make him their problem first. tho when he's younger halwinfjd yeah he's definitely out to be a problem

on the other hand, athene can be problematic in her own fun way! nobody's business is private and her morals are far less important than her insatiable hunger for knowledge

[misfortuning]

“Do you have a home?”

(  ⁞⁺   ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ    †      ᵃᶜᶜᵉᵖᵗᶥᶰᵍ ! 

               Home. Like many things about this world,  about humans and           their  languages and  their ideas,  it is one the  former  angel still           has  difficulty  grasping.  Do  they  ask  of  the  ‘home’  where  he           abides,physically,or do they wish to know what he believes to be           home, where he longs to be—where his ‘heart’ is? Ah, but that is           another  concept that  mystifies him  (as much  as  a part  of him           feels with  a small,  unfamiliar surety  that  he might  understand           more than he is aware).

               They have  asked  a question,  though,  are  still  awaiting an           answer.  And he  remembers  all the times  that his friends have           advised  him to stop  thinking so much,  to simply say  whatever           comes to mind,  that in  most  cases  he cannot  give the  wrong           answer because it is his in the first place, and so.

               …I cannot  go  home.”  The  words are  soft,  empty  even of           sadness and perhaps  the more sorrowful for it.  Like a  box that           may or may not  have held  something precious,  but in  the end           irrelevant because  it is gone,  there is  no way  to know  but the           vague feeling of maybe. “However, I have been very fortunate to           have found a place  I would like to  call home.  It is…not perfect,           but…”

               A longer pause as he struggles  to understand what it is he’s           attempting  to say,  what sensation  it  is  blooming slowly  in his           chest.  Of course, it’s futile, and so gradually he stops trying and           simply smiles instead, small and new as the budding spring. 

               It is dear to me.”

[misfortuning]

✄ ☑ ❉ ✎ ❝ ❞ ❀ ✸ ✼ ◑

MUNSTROUS — accepting!

✄ What is an idea you originally had in mind for your muse, but ended up scrapping? Why?

☑ What is a plot idea you’re willing to play with virtually any partner? What makes that plot so special to you?

❉ What is a dream AU for you? If you haven’t done it yet, why not?

✎ When choosing a name for your muse, did you pick something special or meaningful in some way?

❝ ❞ Is it easy for you to write dialog for your muse? Do their speech patterns come naturally to you while writing?

❀ What is a muse you want to play but haven’t? Why haven’t you played them yet?

✸ Tell us about any NPCs on your blog. Who are they to your muse? What do they contribute to your blog?

✼ When it comes to worldbuilding, what are some ideas you’d like to explore in rp?

◑ What is a side to your muse you want to show off, but haven’t had the chance to yet?

[misfortuning]

✰ How did you decide your muse’s skills and talents? Do they relate to their occupation in some way?

MUNSTROUS — accepting!

ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ 12 ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴏʟᴅ ᴏʙsᴇssᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏʀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ sᴏᴜʟs ᴏғ ᴀɴɢsᴛʏ ᴛᴇᴇɴ ʙᴏʏs ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɪɴsᴛʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀs . . .

and that was about it at the start hhhgsdkl. he was originally a (jobless 17yo) werewolf cause I liked em better than vampires and since I also liked making my own lore even back then he made absolutely no sense, like at one point his saliva stopped blood from clotting so if he bit someone they were a little extra screwed. no reason behind it, just though it was cool!!! as a person he didn’t have many things he liked to do since he was Angery and Bad but at some point he was kinda into photography? also no reason behind it. sounds fake :/ his first job was as an assassin with my friend’s character Gwyn, cause he was soooo good at killing ppl, and after she died he got picked up by an organization (also by my friend) that nearly drove him to lose his mind before he finally made his way to Pallas Athena

anyway I changed up his backstory multiple times over the years so he’s not even a werewolf anymore and also independent of rp, and back in the day he picked up a lot of miscellaneous Science Shit from his parents that he doesn’t like to think about. the fact that he’s a biological and inter-dimensional anomaly is kinda what attracted Babelon’s attention (and I’m actually about to revisit those years and figure some more shit out huhuhu…) but he wasn’t an employee to them, just a commodity. however in Pallas Athena, Athene does like to make sure that it’s the right person for the right job, so the jobs that Isayah gets tend to appeal to his abilities

[misfortuning]

im gonna fuckgin REG R E T but make another kid for lucy and isayah hghghhhgfhhh

SUPER FURRY NUT— selectively accepting!

Name: Elias “make up your own last name everyone in this family does”

Gender: male, he/him

General Appearance: more Lucy than Isayah face-wise: rounder face/square-er jaw, broader nose, straight brows rather than whatever the fuck wiggly things Isayah has and ofc the Cursed Lipsjghgbkhldf. classic “younger brother who ends up taller than the older” tho only by like an inch or two and he’s more lanky, looks like a sapling in a grove of trees. grey eyes like his daddy’s originals!

Personality: sunny?? where’d he get it. prolly cause his parents function better when he’s born and the squad is bigger hhgkgh quiet sorta sunshine tho, not v out-going but definitely not shy. will talk to the actual shy kids n coax em into havin fun. super observant, lil smarty pants, literally afraid of noth i n g. u don’t realize how weird he is until you’re all in a weird situation and he’s still actin normal like. y’all joke abt freaky shit but he doesn’t get the joke & comes back with a true story hhbklh. the friend you spontaneously bring ghost hunting who ends up not leavin when the rest of u wanna run bc now he’s genuinely invested in achieving communication

Special Talents: picks up super easy on others’ emotional wavelengths cause he’s had a lotta practice hhhhgh also plays an instrument or two, bass and ?? like harmonica idk

Who they like better: u can’t make him choose!! he loves his mom sm, suuuper into physical affection, still loves hangin off her even when he’s grown-ass ddjjlkbhdf thinks his dad is cute when he does the same thing GBMFDK appreciates Isayah’s calmness, prolly likes to chill outside & look at the stars

Who they take after more: honestly he’s like the young child Isayah before the shit storm rolled through. not likely to fuck anyone up even if they bad but will prolly lock em in a basement until he can get an Adult

Personal Head canon: 1) kinda rough pregnancy, born early, only kid to NOT get the beastie gene. rather, he did, but it ended up bein the thing that kept him alive & kinda burnt itself up 2) since he grew up with beastie siblings he’s always got a mental calendar goin and is p crafty with finding escape routes & setting up spontaneous traps, just in case (mama trained him well ddhkgl) 3) tone deaf, still loves singin 4) good fashion sense; Lucy made fuckin sure this time ghbhlshd 5) good cook!! 6) wants to be an artist like his uncle leo. it’s a work in progress

Face Claim:

[misfortuning]

I don't know if I'm late but !!! " 🎈- A memory about a time they were safe and relaxed " ! ( Because honestly ? It's what he deserves. )

NEVER FORGET — accepting!

A memory about a time they were safe and relaxed.

       The piano room was always his favorite. While not the largest in the house, it certainly felt like it with floor-to-ceiling windows on the south-east and south-west walls, polished hardwood flooring, and minimal furniture save for modest shelving, a lounge seat, and a small table with two matching chairs. A fan and ceiling light hung overhead, but a standing lamp near the piano made for softer lighting.

       And, oh, the piano; to the young boy it was the grandest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Warm-toned wood crafted lovingly with gently curling scroll work, gracefully sturdy legs in lionesque image, softly shining keys of ivory and obsidian and heavy golden foot pedals that lay out of reach when he sat on the bench. It was habit for him to come and sit at the piano, run his palms across the cover, trail fingers over the keys. As he got older he would attempt to sound out the songs he heard from his parents, one careful note at a time, face fixed in concentration. Sheet music was yet indecipherable to his mind and so he learned by watching, memorizing.

       He perches now on a stool beside the bench, craning his neck to watch, transfixed, as they play a duet of Pachbel’s Canon in D. His mother’s hands are slender and precise, steady tempo never wavering, dwarfed in comparison to his father’s which are broad yet no less graceful. The boy fidgets as he stares increasingly harder at first his father’s hands, then his mother’s beyond them. Finally he braces a foot beneath himself, rising into a slow crouch and then even farther, standing precariously on his seat.

       “Careful, Soren,” his father rumbles, eyes not leaving the keys but body shifting ever so slightly towards his son. Rebecca glances up, melody never faltering.

       “Soren, sit down,” she chides gently.

       “Play it slower,” complains the child, heedless of the warnings, intent on catching every note.

       “Will you sit down if we play it slower?”

       The boy pouts, reluctant. “But I can’t see right.”

       Johan chuckles and the song cuts in half as Rebecca stops playing, her husband following suit a few bars later.

       “Here,” she slides to the farthest end of the bench and pats the small space that appears between them. “Come sit with us, and we’ll play it extra slow so you can see.”

       At that the boy’s face lights up, but rather than simply climb down from his seat he leans forward, hands braced on the edge of the piano, seemingly intent on crossing straight from the stool to the bench. Before his mother can admonish him his father laughs, moving to lift him into his lap.

       “Whoa there, mountain climber! Why take the easy way when you can take the hard way, huh?” 

       The boy giggles in response, squirming from Johan’s grip to settle between his parents, feet dancing through the air in excitement. “Play it from the start! Slow!”

       His mother sighs and shakes her head, unable to hide the small smile that steals across her lips. Johan doesn’t even try to disguise his amusement, smiling broadly first at his son, then his wife.

       “Alright, extra slow this time. Everyone ready?”

       “Yeah!” cheers Soren.

       Beside him his mother laughs, and plays.

[misfortuning]

🐺

NEVER FORGET — accepting!

A memory about being alone.

       He doesn’t think much on his time in the mountains. For one, memories take different shapes when acquired in his other form—it’s probably wrong to call them memories at all, unreliable as they are. There is less visual context, a lack of time frame, different priorities. If he tries, he can recall only the faintest blur of the city, murky and dark and smearing away behind him as he flees. To accompany the myriad of scents his mind paints open stretches of earth, dirt beneath his claws and curtains of trees in which warmblooded creatures flee and fall beneath his jaws, glimpses of black rock amidst endless white that surrounds him from every direction, even above. That is what haunts him most when he thinks back; the sheer nothingness, the feeling of being lost to the world, to life. The closest he could get to catharsis. 

      (They find him in dreams, sometimes, in the rare moments sleep catches him unaware and drags him under. For two years they were his home, those vast, sprawling skeletons among which to rest his battered and wearied mind, behemoths that weathered the slow-marching time like kings, robed in each new season. He knows there were seasons, but because dreams are not real it is always winter there. The wind howls endlessly and though he cannot feel it he carries the weight of ice crystallizing his pelt, chill burning his nose and lungs. Each breath pure as silver. It is a land barren, buried, boreal; nothing for him and nothing of him. It’s hard to believe it really existed. When he wakes, it’s hard to remember that he did.)

       And therein lies the true reason to leave such memories scattered in dust: It is dangerous to miss the oblivion. Too dangerous to wish, even for a moment, to return to that time. To give up what he has clung to and fought for so desperately in exchange for…nothing. The relief of having no home, no one, no shredded self to be bound by. Nothing but the wind and snow and seamless passing of days fading from one to the next, leaving no ghosts. Alone. 

[misfortuning]

15, 16, 31

TBH — accepting!

15. How has rp changed you personally?

holy shit rp has been so important and prominent in my life since like, seventh grade. I got into rp with my best friends, and then I met more really good friends through it and. it’s just always been a super important part of me?? I don’t think I’ll ever stop hdshklgsh catch me on my deathbed wrappin up my final thread

idk if that counts as it changing me personally but it’s had a p huge impact on my life, so

16. If you could change one thing about rp on tumblr, what would it be? Why?

I…think I’m maybe not qualified to answer this hhlkhbdfs just cause I’ve never been involved in any drama, I’ve never really even seen any actual drama, mostly just people mentioning that they’ve had bad experiences and that they don’t want anymore. and considering I’ve been rping for 10 years and only,,,,what, two years of it have been on tumblr? and I’ve stayed VERY niched, never gone far beyond a few writing partners at a time? AND I keep going on the random unannounced hiatuses and then randomly reappearing to mostly lurk?? 

dmbmblkhdf I almost feel like I’ve been too cautious, like I’m over-sheltering myself, so in the end I don’t know much about the tumblr rpc personally, just what I’ve seen/heard secondhand. I’ve never experienced bias based on blog/writing style aesthetic/icons or lack thereof, I’ve never experienced bias against any of my girls, I’ve never experienced an attempted force shipping or people copying my characters (on tumblr, that is), I’ve never encountered an abusive or manipulative writing partner etc etc, but I’ve heard all the horror stories. to me, the larger rpc is really just a vague concept formed through other peoples’ opinions and experiences

31. Is there something you don’t know the meaning of but you haven’t asked anyone because you think it’s supposed to be general knowledge? Was there ever something you had to ask someone to explain?

uhhhhh……..for the longest time I didn’t understand what “isms” were. I was so baffled?? I googled it multiple times hdskglshd like I literally typed “tumblr rp terms and meanings” into the search bar and hint enter and scrolled through mile-long lists of so many roleplay terms. I didn’t really get tags at first either but now, as everyone can see, I’m a complete ho and will make a tag for basically every aspect of my character even if said tag never gets used ( ᐛ )┌

[misfortuning]

🎊👌

OH SHIT IT’S MONDAY — accepting!

🎊 I’m happy to have met you.👌 Your character portrayal is amazing.

AHFLASHGDmblksdbh;afhas alright listen,,,,,,,,Ivakir is a Blessing™ upon this site, you have no clue how excited I was to finally get a thread with her but even when we didn’t have one I just loved reading about her and her other interactions?? and honestly the same goes for you, we haven’t really talked much but whether you’re shitposting or answering ooc questions or just talking about Iv I love it all especially your salt fhdslkg I just think you’re really inspiring in so many ways and I’m always happy to see you on the dash !

and thank you so so much, I’m always worried that my writing is lacking in some way or that he’s not coming across as I’m intending him to (it’s probably something that I’m forever going to be working on), but I’m glad that you like him regardless!! ;u;

[misfortuning]

━━╋⊂ Ten of Swords - was there a time your character has ever hit “rock bottom”?

PICK A CARD — accepting!

two years in the mountains, babey. abandoned his friends, abandoned humanity, came this close to abandoning sanity ! maybe not quite rock bottom but it was pretty gosh dang close, and we all know the results of actual rock bottom: dead friends or Isayah denying his own existence so hard that it actually works :^)) I’m always interested to see other ways he can hit rock bottom tho!!

[misfortuning]

★ Seven of Pentacles - what tests your character’s patience more than anything?

PICK A CARD — accepting!

people. just people in general, whether they’re doing things that annoy him or simply have a personality type that annoys him. I started listing things that people could do to test his patience, but it ended up getting WAY too lengthy and ramble-y and really, it can just be summed up as he has a very low tolerance for anyone outside of his squad hdkglsh

[misfortuning]

XI. Justice - has your character ever knowingly wronged someone?

PICK A CARD — accepting!

insert stock photo of me, laughing with my salad only ALL THE GOD DAMN TIME,

alright, I’ll be serious. he was a good kid and…extremely sheltered, let’s say, up until he was 14 so…the very first time he knowingly wronged someone? physically he was 15 when he first made the actual the decision to Fight someone. the first time he emotionally wronged someone? probably also 15, when he met [REDACTED BECAUSE SPOILERS]

or at least, those were the first worst times. after that, though? he really just went downhill from there hdsklgh and now his mentality is sort of “well if I haven’t killed them it’s not that bad” and it’s terrible. the only people he loves in the world are his squad and he wrongs them too, even if it’s just in little ways that they overlook because it’s just Isayah being Isayah, he still does it?? listen he is terrible and I hate him,

[misfortuning]

have the types of characters you play changed over the years?

TASTY —accepting!

9. have the types of characters you play changed over the years?

yes and no! so sort of. when I first started making rp characters they were all pretty fantasy-heavy (Isayah the wolf…possessed…whatever, Sunny the body animating ghost, Noël the winter fae, Bis the literal angel, not to mention the whole mess that was Sparrow and Lark’s original story), but as time passed and I moved platforms, met new rp partners and realized how disastrously flawed all of my character’s backstories were, I gradually toed the line of reality. suddenly I had a bunch of ordinary college students (Malachi, Gloria, Grayson, and Jaime to name a few), as well as TWO whole volleyball teams of boys and girls?? an abundance of both worlds!

still, when it comes to rp I find that I have a definite preference for writing supernatural characters, or humans with a twist—Isayah’s story has become somewhat more grounded in reality, my cursed girl Jillian has always been a favorite, Chione’s actually a cyborg! and Harriet will forever have a special place in my heart. I also developed a habit of accidentally slipping some kind of secret fantasy element into my supposed-to-be-vanilla humans, even if it’s never going to be discovered and especially if it somehow connects them to other characters (specifically Danny and hard side-eye at Peace, though I guess Kay and Gri also fall into the last category even if they are more sci-fi than fantasy).

in the beginning I also loved dark, tormented, heart-breaking characters if you couldn’t tell :)) before moving on to largely pleasant and ordinary people with only a few tortured souls, and now I’ve fallen deep into the pit of “how many different ways can I exploit the aspects and limits of morality,” which is kind of like my first phase only way better hdklshfhs. I’ve also developed a taste for creating my own lore entirely and building more of a story around the character which is really fun! sometimes I’ll even just start world-building, and then characters will pop into existence by themselves :^) 

so I guess the real change was that I just expanded my horizons !

[misfortuning]

13. How do they greet the world — what is their typical attitude towards life? How does it differ in different circumstances, or towards different subjects? Why do they take these attitudes, and why do they change? How do these tend to be expressed?

THE MEANING OF LIFE — how long has this been in my drafts!!

technically already answered a long time ago here, but I will never pass up an opportunity to info dump about Isayah

13. How do they greet the world — what is their typical attitude towards life? How does it differ in different circumstances, or towards different subjects? Why do they take these attitudes, and why do they change? How do these tend to be expressed?

Honestly, Isayah is so conflicted in this. As a child he loved people, loved the world, loved life—obviously, this changed with time and now he seemingly hates everything, himself most of all. And yet despite that, he has friends, people he loves and wants to protect. There are moments (what he would probably call weaknesses, what he usually ends up regretting) where a ghost of this caring extends to others, too. There are certain triggers for it, mostly with people who remind him of his friends (especially all the dead ones) or women (since most of his friends have been women), but sometimes it just strikes randomly.

Still, in the end Isayah is tired of caring. He’s tired of life, tired of everything, but he keeps going anyway because that is the worst punishment he can put upon himself: even if his world falls apart, even if it’s by his own hands, he will never get to rest. It’s a twisted view from a twisted man, and a result of all the hardships he’s been through.

Because of all this Isayah may seem like a very contrary person, largely apathetic in general with seemingly random switches from caring to cold. 

[misfortuning]

For the questions - "1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy?" -- "16. Do they dream? What are those dreams like?" & "28. What are they likely to do if they have the opportunity, resources, and time to accomplish it? Why?" ! Sorry if these are hard to answer !

THE MEANING OF LIFE— accepting!

NOT AT ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE THEY’RE SO BEAUTIFUL also confession time i’ve reblogged this before and have answered 1 here but i’m a slut for this meme so i’m gonna answer it again 

1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy?

He moves like a predator, such casual confidence because he draws more blood than he sheds, will shed enough blood for the both of you because he is not afraid to go for the throat; He carries himself like prey, ever alert, paranoid, ready to put his back to a corner and fight for his life, for so much more than that. (There is no escape. Onward.)He moves at his own pace, struggles tooth and nail to resist the current that threatens to drag him under, sometimes, because he refuses to be moved by anything other than his own will. His rhythm is a heartbeat, endless, unceasing—in the heat of a moment it becomes a race against the world, himself, the confines of his own rigid self-control. (There is no escape. Onward.)Gestures are subtle things, hedged and trimmed to present an impassible wall through which he allows only the smallest slips of information. He does not open himself to connection, does not desire anything of the sort. (There is no escape. Onward.)Energy comes and goes, strings drawing slack to a restless tune, the swell and swallow of a distant storm. At times he is less a man than a riot, chaos tearing at his flesh from the inside; at times he is less a man than a hollow sky, a vessel in which there is nothing but echoes, black and bleak. (There is no escape. Onward.)

16. Do they dream? What are those dreams like?

get ready for some real incoherent nonsense y’all,

He dreams of fire; can’t remember if it was real but it must have been, at some point, in some form, because what wasn’t? What wasn’t done to him in the name of (love and safety and humanity and promises from his own lips) in the name of science, God, he remembers now—He’ll never know how many tools were used to flay him bare, exposed, never know how many needles or what was in them but they are there, in his veins fire and ice and IN HIS VEINS AND pain and then nothing—Nothing but pain when there’s anything at all (slowly anything there could be is being taken from him, things he wouldn’t even think of or miss until they’re gone and there’s no coming back)—And faster now, sand through his fingers, water, blood in his hands and bleeding away and he is losing everything, losing them one by one and two by two and who is left? Who is left?(He is still here and it burns him, bleeds him, drowns him with how alive he is INHISVEINSINHISLUNGSINHISHEADINHISCHESTOHGODGETOUTGETOUT he is left)alone

He wakes in a sweat he cannot feel, eyes stinging and darkHe does not remember falling asleepHe doesn’t remember

He dreams of water. It is never-ending and he chokes and chokes, never-dying.

He dreams of an empty, echoing house. There is no one there no matter how he looks, vacancy a looming hunger the longer he searches for nothing. He waits for it to strike but it only gets farther and farther away. There is no one there. There is no one.

He dreams he is a wolf, more so that he has been in years. There is a child laughing. He is a wolf. There is a child. He is a wolf. 

In his dreams, she introduces herself. That is how he knows it is a dream, only a dream, but the knowledge does not make it better. Nothing makes it better.

He dreams rarely of a golden ocean, burning. He is yelling, screaming or calling for someone he isn’t sure, but he does not stop. Cannot. He is becoming the roar.

He dreams he is on the table. Sometimes they are all on tables, sometimes some of them are already dead. Sometimes she is there, smiling sadly—always smiling, never on the table.

He dreams she doesn’t die. He dreams she will not, no matter how he tries.

He dreams he wakes up. He dreams he wakes up. He dreams he wakes up. He wakes up. He dreams.

28. What are they likely to do if they have the opportunity, resources, and time to accomplish it? Why?

Utterly dismantle and destroy the organization he was formerly a part of. It is the source of so much trauma in his life, which he already had plenty of and really did NOT need any more (call out @ me). Isayah isn’t a fan of irrationality in the least, but that place drives any and all scraps of rationality or morality from him. Like, get ready for some brutality, because—He would first hunt down every single member and benefactor, behead and dismember them, gather the pieces in the compound and burn it to the ground, gather every smudge of ash, weld all of it into a lidless metal box, sink that box to the deepest depths of the oceans and move as far away from the ocean as physically possible, and then as soon at inter-planetary travel became an option, move himself and all of his loved ones as far away from Earth as they could get. And then he might find some way to vaporize Earth, just for good measure. Maybe launch it into the sun.

[misfortuning]

♛ : If your muse were a ruler, how would they use their power?

PSYCHOLOGY — accepting!

hhhhhhhhhh terribly. Isayah has only enough caring for his squad, and maybe the odd bystander on a good day. but let’s say his ruling country qualifies as his squad, and he doesn’t use his power to appoint someone else ruler: in that case, he’s definitely the super overprotective ruler who some people worship as a savior and others curse as a tyrant, and he doesn’t care either way as long as his people are safe. he probably executes a lot of people and only spares some thanks to the council of his closest friends