#Lost in a dream RP

[hhoneycloves]

IT WOULD BE SO EASY. [intrusive thoughts from Mind]

Alongside the headaches are the thoughts that make his head ache.

[randaccidents]

BWUH I forgot that I drew a speedy little Heartless!Heart reference for the rp! It's the closest thing to a post-recovery ref we'll have for now (because he Will have a proper one) BUT I MIGHT AS WELL SHARE HIM.

So yeah! Post-recovery ref kinda sorta! Absolutely will make a more official reference eventually but for now this is how he looks like after the major events of Heartless going into all fics in the Recovery phase. (I'm missing one item here... I thought it got destroyed during the rp so I didn't bother drawing it, but turns out it was being kept safe and repaired so now I need to design THAT TOO)

And yes! In Recovery Heart is given one of the few remaining feathers found to wear too! It helps him remember he had wings once. The crutches were made by Perseverance and can fold up to be hung at the sides when Heart doesn't have a muscle weakness episode, since it isn't consistent. The missing item is a wing-shaped shawl blanket thing that Penitence IS making during Heartless events, and is weighted to feel like wings. It is one of Heart's larger comfort items.

Unfortunately though, his wings never came back, and the blackness never left his limbs.

Other references: Heart Pre-ROE / Heart Post-Apathy

[spiderslvts]

some new tags ?? some new tags !! + affiliate tags :]

  .   🕸️  HOW   OUT   OF   HAND   IT’S   GOTTEN       ╱     ooc.

  .   🕸️  MY   FLESH   IS   LACED   WITH   SUGAR   AND   MAGGOTS       ╱     asks.

  .   🕸️  YOU   SAY   YOU   MISS   ME    (  I’M   RIGHT   HERE  )       ╱     starters.

  .   🕸️  WITH   PINK   EYESHADOW   AND   A   SOBBING   PRAYER       ╱     isms.

  .   🕸️  ANYTHING   COULD   BE   HOLY   UNDER   NEON  LIGHTS       ╱     visage.

  .   🕸️  DO   YOU   FEEL   THE   EYES   OVER   YOUR   BODY   STILL?       ╱     promo.

  .   🕸️  TO   SWEETLY   MELT   IN   SIN       ╱     rp memes.

  .   🕸️  I   DRINK   ;   I   BURN   ;   I   SHATTER   MY   OWN   DREAMS       ╱     open starter.

  .   🕸️  YOUR   FISH   HOOK   IN   MY   MOUTH       ╱     crack.

  .   🕸️  EATEN   IN   PIECES   ;   NOT   MEANT   TO   BE    KNOWN   WHOLE       ╱     ic.

  .   🕸️  I   BELIEVE   YOU   LIKE   A    BEATEN   DOG       ╱     dash games.

  .   🕸️  I   WILL   NEVER   BE   FORGIVEN   FOR   WANTING       ╱     affiliates.

  .   🕸️  KISS   ME   WITH   MY   BLOOD   BETWEEN   YOUR   TEETH       ╱     ships.

  .   🕸️  TO   BE   LOOKED   AT    &.   NEVER   SEEN       ╱     art.

  .   🕸️  TOUCHED   DOWN   TO   THE   DELICATE   BONES       ╱     poetry.

  .   🕷  |   IN  NEON  LIGHTS     ╱     canon &. main verse.

  .   🕷  |   THE  CALL  OF  THE  ANGELS     ╱     overlord verse.

  .   🕷  |   FEATHER  BOAS  AND  GLITTER     ╱     70’s verse. (ft. sirserpentine)

  .   🕷  |   OVERSEER  OF  HELL     ╱     zestial’s employee verse (ft. zestials)

  .   🕷  |   GOOD  OLD  FASHIONED  LOVER  BOY     ╱     human verse.

  .   🕷  |   LACED  WITH  BELLADONNA     ╱     lost twins verse (ft. spyderdust)

  .   ♡  DO  YOU  LIKE  THE  SHOW ?  ARE  YOU  TIRED  OF  IT ?     ╱     videoaux.

  .   ♡  THE  LAST  SHRED  OF  TRUTH  IN  THE  LOST  MYTH  OF  TRUE  LOVE     ╱     hellsbroadcaster.

  .   ♡  I  COULD  NEVER  DEFINE  ALL  THAT  YOU  ARE  TO  ME     ╱     r-adio.

  .   ♡  BUT  I’D  NEVER  SAY  I  LOVE  YOU  JUST  TO  HEAR  YOU  SAY  IT  BACK     ╱     sirserpentine.

  .   ♡  I��M  PUT  TO  AWE  SOMETHING  SO  FLAWED  AND  FREE     ╱     dark-ambition.

  .   ♡  YOUR  BEAUTY  NEVER  EVER  SCARED  ME     ╱     gamblins.

  .   ♡  THE  FEAR  OF  THE  UNKNOWN  /  THE  FACE  IN  MONOCHROME     ╱     zestials.

  .   ♡  YOU  HATE  THE  APPLAUSE  /  YOU  CRAVE  THE  ATTENTION     ╱     xluciifer.

  .   ♡  BUT  YOU’RE  HOLDING  ME  LIKE  WATER  IN  YOUR  HANDS     ╱     oriiginis.

[themosthatedbeingmoving]

;// plz I’m so full of ideas for Young King! Lucifer who’s just starting hell starting to tame and take over the rings and assign his fellow sins /fallens to them.. a young king full of anger and darkness and lashed out at the sinners and hellborns alike until his wife puts him in his place and reminds him that he is a king not a tyrant .

I just I have ideas and I wanna bet there are legends and stories of his wrath and creativity and anger and what if Charlie or the others came across these old legends and tales :3

[residentsofhollowville]

Howdy, Magnus Archives roleplaying community! My name's Guy, my pronouns are he/they, and I just discovered you exist! I wanted to make a blog to rp with my Magnus Archives OCs, but the trouble is that there's a lot of them, so before I start trying to talk to anyone, I wanted to make a master post to help keep track of them all and establish an organization system, so, here we go.

Judas Trinidad

Avatar of the Desolation, marked by The Flesh and The End, he/him, a contrarian, rebellious young man who moved away from Hollowville after a terrible house fire destroyed his family home. He's recently returned to find his brother missing, and is struggling to find his place in the world and, ideally, make meaningful social change along the way. Failing that, he's perfectly willing to just start throwing rocks through rich people's windows. Posts from his perspective will be tagged with BURN IT ALL DOWN.

Brutus Herald

Currently not an avatar, marked by the Desolation and the Buried. The son of a rich man who lost everything more or less by happenstance. His terrible experiences have made him resilient, moreso than anyone his age ever should be. Posts from his perspective will be tagged with My Name Means Heavy.

Cassandra Herald

Currently not an avatar, marked by the Desolation. Cassandra is a brave, tempestuous girl who is willing to destroy anything or anyone to be revenged for the damage done to her, even if that means burning herself out in the process. The only life she truly values is that of her younger brother Brutus. Posts from her perspective will be tagged with The Infant Immortal.

Anna Velasco

Avatar of the Extinction, marked by the Corruption, she/her, Cerise's former foster daughter and a deeply troubled girl who's quite sick of being told that her generation will have to be the ones to save the world. She's familiar with the startling speed at which the world is deteriorating, and at this point in her life, she welcomes it. Posts from her perspective will be tagged with The Poison Child.

Teddy Lukas

Avatar of the Lonely and the Spiral, he/kit, an odd, quiet, and strangely docile young boy. Supposedly a ward of the Lukas family, though no one's ever seen its patriarch give him a kind word. He's wandered into Hollowville seeking out shelter and hopefully kinship, which he isn't likely to find, given his generally antisocial demeanor. Posts from his perspective will be tagged with The Lost Boy.

Jack Trinidad

Avatar of the Stranger and the Desolation, marked by the Hunt, he/they/it, Jack recently returned to town after wandering the world for many years, getting into plenty of trouble along the way. He's not unkind, but people have a tendency to get violent towards him, especially after hearing them play their guitar. Their gentle, mirthful demeanor belies a rather uncanny nature. Posts from its perspective will be tagged with Jack.

The Dreaming

Avatar Entity of the Spiral, it/she, The Dreaming exists purely in the subconscious mind, feeding from the fear provoked by nightmares and fantasies grown out of control. She has the demeanor of a benevolent trickster, but her true motives are difficult to discern. It's something of an enigma, and even those who trust it aren't sure whether or not she was ever human. Posts from its perspective will be tagged with Dream Within A Dream.

Mort Graber

Avatar of the End Eye, marked by a frankly stupid number of other entities, he/him, Mort is the last in a long line of gravediggers, serving the only cemetery in Hollowville. He's patient, calm, and unshakably temperate, rarely growing truly angry with anyone. Perhaps the increasing certainty that the fears will rise up and consume this hateful world does him some good in that regard. Posts from his perspective will be tagged with The Gravedigger.

Morgause Graber

Avatar of the Slaughter, marked by the End and the Dark, he/they, Mort's uncle who's best known for breaking the family's oath of nonviolence and promptly being exiled. He's not a sadistic man, but the cold ruthlessness with which he carries out acts of violence strikes fear into the hearts of many. He has often been described as heartless. This is not a description he rejects. Posts from his perspective will be tagged with Morgause the Traitor.

Wichita Fairchild

Avatar of the Vast, marked by the Hunt, the Spiral, and the Desolation, she/her, a religious fanatic with an increasingly intense obsession with natural disasters, particularly those that come from the sky or sea. Her difficult past has left her bitter and vindictive, and she's grown to consider herself a designated bringer of the wrath of God. Posts from her perspective will be tagged with Wichita Falls.

Azazel Blake (Az)

Avatar of the Flesh, marked by the End, the Desolation, the Spiral, and the Hunt, he/they, a local boy who took his quest for perfection via self-modification a bit too far. Something of a flirt, although he tries to avoid crossing any lines, and obsessed with beauty and perfection in all things, including himself. Posts from their perspective will be tagged with Ideal Male Body.

Belladonna Hirschell (Bella)

Avatar of the Eye, she/her, a high-profile influencer and self-proclaimed reputable source of supernatural news. Her entire existence is digitized, repackaged, rebranded, and wrapped up neatly with a bow, seemingly whenever it suits her. Hypothetically, she works for the Usher Foundation, managing their social media pages and uploading as many statements as she can to the world wide web, but her poor conduct and disregard of personal boundaries lead people to question her usefulness. Posts from her perspective will be tagged with Stay Connected!

Shrike Moonstone

Avatar of the Web, marked by the Corruption, he/they, a prolific, albeit rather reclusive, author. His work is known to tug at the heartstrings of its readers, sometimes even influencing the choices they make in the future. He is virtually the embodiment of authorly sadism and as sharp as a tack, but even a web-weaver like him can't escape the constraints of fate. Posts from their perspective will be tagged with The Author.

Alexis "Creep" Lotis

Avatar of the Eye and the Corruption, she/her, a journalist and researcher known and renowned for being willing to get down in the muck and resort to tactics other people would never dare to. She's been accused of being a muckraker, insensitive and, as the nickname would imply, a creep, but for the most part, she's just a girl who believes people have the right to knowledge, including knowledge they don't want. Posts from her perspective will be tagged with Creep Show.

Posts in which other ocs are mentioned will be tagged with #(insert tag name here) mention, ex. a post by Judas that mentions his brother Jack will be tagged #burn it all down #jack mention, and anything else that's relevant. Posts that remind me of a given character will be tagged with #(insert tag name here) inspo, ex. a really cool photo of a moth would get tagged with #the widow inspo. I have somewhat unintentionally started tagging posts that make me think of all of them with #hollowville inspo, I promise I plan things so well

All images but The Dreaming, Mort, Judas, and Creep are from wxarringtxn's Magnus Archives Fear Avatar Picrew. Mort is from Bright's Picrew Hell, Jude is from Baydew's Avatar Maker, Creep is from PotatoLord's Picrew, and the Dreaming is the only one I drew myself. I hope I get to do some cool stuff with them sometime, I hope people like them, and I hope you have a good day.

[rungalwaysheretolisten]

If you want to explain your reason, why or why not please re-blocking it and explain your reasons. I love to see all your answers and why.Also reblog this to as many people as you can I’m very curious for the results.

Also feel free to reblog this so everyone get a chance to vote!

[radicalrascalrally]

Lagartija is probably so so tired of things being taken away from them / feeling helpless

[thedesignatedheroes]

“I think I’m in Paldea now...And I’m lost. Help? Please?”

[findroleplay]

i'm looking for writing partners on discord! my name is brandy, i'm 21+, and i've been writing/rping for about sixteen years on and off. i've written for numerous fandoms, but the characters below are the ones i'm writing currently. bolded are ones i really want to write most. i would love to join in on either 1x1 or some small group rps on discord. if anyone's interested in interactions with the below characters, slide on in to my inbox/DMs!

star trek - beverly crusher, deanna troi, kathryn janeway

doctor who - 13th doctor, missy, river song

literature - mina murray (dracula), queen titania (midsummer night's dream)

mythology - persephone (hadestown based, but open to other interpretations)

twilight - esme cullen

harry potter - nymphadora tonks, hermione granger

game of thrones - sansa stark

misc. muses - evelyn carnahan (the mummy), sarah williams (labyrinth), odette (swan princess), mia thermopolis (princess diaries), helen magnus (sanctuary), juliet burke (lost), charlotte lewis (lost), beatrice baudelaire (series of unfortunate events).

-

[hhoneycloves]

Sandbox scenario where Machine/JWr Mind and @randaccidents Vital/Heartless Heart are reunited for the first time since Lost in a Dream and make a complete and utter fool of themselves in public about it

[randaccidents]

I have been informed that as the death counter person it is my solemn duty to update chat about the death count in the rp HAHA.

Its been, what, 27 days since we started? It's only been a month??? The current death count looks like this:

Host: 22

Heart: 9 + 1

Mind: 2

(oh the plus one? just my harsh little reminder that there is more than one way for Heartless Heart to die :3, the death is not physical or traditional so I gave it a separate counter)

[lathrine]

in one csp window: disembodied bodies with good brain feel shapes

in the other csp window: new pets circa 2006

[idanwyn-et-al]

There was a fair maiden/she lived all alone. (The Nixie's Tale, Part 2.)

For Eras, a geas binding the Nixie has prevented from revealing her story in full. As her current crew and friends continue to unravel this geas, the Nixie creates these crystalline memories; they are available for any to access within the ship.

((♪ ))

I was a magician.

This is what I remember, second. Lullabies: a babe’s first memories, dim and wordless like moss beneath the towering boughs of one’s mother. The spark of aether: a babe’s second impressions; a connection to life itself, freedom and cage in the same roving package, like one’s father. Scents of one’s first surroundings; the cleats that secure the mooring ropes of recollections, separating one from mother and father, becoming one’s own person with one’s own perspective.

Gentle, everyday gifts from the gods; the hallmark of the Age of Prayer, when I was born. They lived in everything around us: the crackling embers of the hearth; the eddies of wind that heralded weather’s changing; the thousand-thousand songs of mycelial filaments connecting plants beneath rich black soil. Too, they lived in spears of levin that rent blossomfruit trees asunder; the rustling of carrion birds picking scraps of scaled flesh from my father’s skull; the spiderwebbing cracks of ice across the waves that heralded the return of the Autumn Queen’s reavers. The shamans of my island walked closest to the gods and all their boons and burdens, but to know the gods was all of our birthrights. Yet another gift of ours that the reavers claimed as their own.

If only I had known that they were not alone in their rapacious appetites. That in comparison to the great Empire that fished me up from the sea Eras later, the Autumn Queen was no greater than a hedge witch. But even though I was a magician, the gift of clairvoyance was not bequeathed unto me, when I still walked the land to which I was born.

My final act as Himawari, the girl with cedar-green skin and sand-white scales, was to trap the Autumn Queen’s fleet within the shamans’ great undersea temple, calling upon the nixie-spirits of the river delta to aid me. The ships are still there today; suspended, half-broken, their crew members frozen for thousands of years within my song, augmented by the ice they carried in their northern blood. Because I was not a shaman, I, too, was trapped in this song of my own making; rolled within clear blue crystal like a grain of sand within an oyster’s protective pearl. I was cast away from my ancestral home and foes alike, trundled by the ocean’s currents along the seabed, the last glimmers of sunlight above receding until all that remained was the dim blue glow of my self-made prison.

I thought every thought that my mind could conjure. I clung to language; to spells; to lullabies and roving freedom and the smells of home and hearth. I tried to remain who I was; tried to remain part of the land and all its gifts, even as the great, silent beasts of the dark drifted past me, testing my crystal-pearl with teeth and tentacles. Finding it unbreakable, some carried me as an aegis; others carried me as a lure, using me to draw in half-blind creatures of darkness starving for light. Over time, I forgot my shape; I was nothing but blue crystal, born of a now-lost tribe and the spirits they shared life with. There was neither past nor future; only each moment, stretching out in blue-tinted darkness, its unbroken sameness occasionally jostled by some leviathan of the depths.

I was a magician trapped within my own threads of magic. An errant appliqué separated from the greater tapestry of the frozen reavers and their vessels, my physical form unravelling within the crystal-pearl, my flesh taking on qualities of the life that surrounded me. I hungered like they did, you see; to remain alive, despite the improbability of such a goal in crushing blackness.

One day, an unfamiliar sound scraped my crystal-pearl, harsher and sharper than teeth. I remembered a sensation I had forgotten; that of ascent. I was rising through the waters, clutched in some sort of shining claw. My crystal-pearl rotated within the claw until my eyes faced the surface, and I saw light. Impossibly-bright after the abyss, it grew nearer and nearer, partially occluded by a dark form riddled with red and blue lines of a different sort of light. I was pulled above the waves for the first time in centuries, and onto the deck of what I would later learn to be a battleship of the Allagan Empire.

They studied me, the men and women of the Empire, from outside the crystal-pearl. I was moved often, far from the sea, sometimes even into the heavens above. I could not understand how this was possible; at first, I thought these were the gods I dimly recalled from my youth, wearing elaborate robes and examining me with what I assumed to be holy relics. Once, I saw myself projected onto a screen in the middle of the air. I would not have known it was me if the tattered remnants of my colorful island robes hadn’t been floating around my… fins?! I had begun to change; to take on the physical qualities of the depths in which I’d tumbled for so long. My legs had begun to fuse into a finned tail, just like the nixies of the river; my pale scales were now the same color as my green skin; the webbing between my fingers, always present on those from my home isle, had grown larger, and each finger was tipped with squid-beak claws.

I did not know what they sought from me. After hundreds of years in the ocean’s solitude, there always seemed to be too much happening at once; my mind could not keep up. They spoke to me, sometimes; drilled tiny holes in my crystal-pearl and fed snaking tubes within them to reach me. I did not feel any pain; I had not felt anything since my own spell collided with the Autumn Queen’s protections and trapped me within my crystalline home. I did not understand the Allagan language, at first; but they kept me for so very long, and eventually I understood more than I did not. I watched some of their researchers, as I learned they were called, go from youth to old age before vanishing, replaced by a new crop. Sometimes, there were copies of the same researcher over and over again; clones, brought about in the Empire’s later years. It is difficult to recount these things now with the knowledge that hindsight brings; at the time, it felt like being in the deep sea all over again, with no concept of past nor future, only the brightly-lit chaos of each day, self-contained.

I was a magician, and now my magic was theirs. Another rapacious empire, come to claim the gifts of my birth.

Of all those who researched me, one was preeminent. I do not know what he looked like before he wore the elaborate plumed hat, the silver skull-like mask with chains for a mouth, the riotous varicolored coat. Amon, he was called, and he assured me he would give me purpose. He said I was a special being, indeed; that I would assist one Master Sari in his most holy endeavor; to lay enemy magicians to waste, that the Allagan Empire might reign forever more.

Amon gave me a voice; the voice I still bear to this day, when I am not in my own domain. It is not Himawari’s voice, I do not think; but then again, I do not remember what I originally sounded like; only that I was a musician, and a magician. Over the centuries, my crystal-pearl had absorbed the endless droning of the clipped-emotionless-mechanical voices around me; now, my voice was another in the chorus. My physical form within the crystal-pearl continued to grow and change; I knew this because the researchers became smaller, more distant, until eventually, they built walkways, each a story apart, so they could access all of me.

Master Sari took over the project. He was a magician, too; a powerful one, who had learned how to conquer what he called summoners, magicians from another isle, now under Allag’s yoke. I knew that I should be upset about this, but the grain of sand that was Himawari had not yet had time to lament this ironic twist of fate. As he settled me carefully within the center of a half-constructed ship tethered to an isle floating above the clouds, he told me of my great duty, zealous rapture enlarging his eyes. I was to bear his own summoners into battle against the remaining Meracydian insurgents. I would be a living ship’s core that could connect with each carefully-crafted soldier, tribes of summoners conscripted and corralled, their birthrights used against their former countrymen.

“It will help them to be able to refer to you by name, my dear. What is your name, exactly?” He paused, hands above the console, his self-constructed summoner’s horn pointed right at me. It was the first time any Allagan had ever asked me that question.

I was a musician, long ago. I was a magician, more recently, but still long ago. I could not remember my name, but I could remember my magicks. “Nixie”, I replied, in the voice Amon had given me; the voice for a creature molded in equal parts by the ocean’s ink-black crucible and the empire that had harnessed the sun's refulgence.

[blue-eyed-menace]

Well... It's strange, really. They are very dissimilar, yet they all seem to link somehow. I can tell it's really you. On the first one, you were hanging upside down from a belfry tower, like you do in the cave. I was inside the tower, and you descended upon me, threatening. I was terrified, yet... you didn't hurt me. I woke up after that. A few months passed, and I dreamt about you again. But you were crying. You had lost someone and seemed beyond consolation. I think it was one of your brothers... Paul, maybe? You allowed me to see that. I don't know if you had meant to show me this, but you seemed very intoxicated. A long time after that, I dreamt that you held me, and were about to bite my neck... You... Well. It was more like you gave me a hickey. I was at peace, though, you could have bitten me and I would have thanked you. I enjoyed it. I also dreamt of you with your brothers, you were at the boardwalk. But only you and Marko saw me. You walked towards me, and held my face meanwhile you smiled. On the latest one... You simply walked towards me, smiling. And this overwhelming feeling of happiness completely took over me. There's not much more after that, other than a strange feeling of awareness of having dreamt about you. I thought I was infatuated, or maybe projecting on you. But you keep coming back, it's almost like I feel you. Are you messing with my head, or shall I get back in touch with my old therapist?

"Well, that does seem rather peculiar," He hummed, kicking his booted feet up to cross them at the ankle. " Im afraid I've never been to the Belfry Tower. And while yes I have lost a great deal, I fear, my dear that I've not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance just yet, at least not in person," David smiled. It's an easy thing that stretched across his lips, dimpled his cheek, made those blue eyes glitter. " Be a dear. Introduce us~" His voice was smooth and thick like honey.

[xspankinggoodkeeper]

muse: Megann Ward (modern/mostly realistic Meg from Hercules) limit: 18+ only please, mutuals and non-mutuals   set: a bar in Fableton open to: other Disney/fairy tale muses, multifandom crossovers, ocs, whatever! triggers: alcohol

Meg downed her first shot of the night and rested an elbow on the bar. Her feet ached after a long shift, but going home to an empty apartment was too depressing--not that this place was a lot better. It was crowded, and she was caught in her usual double bind of hating everyone and not wanting to be alone. The first won out (as it often did), and the snark spilled out before she'd even turned to see who was in her space.

"It's been a long day, so unless you're going to buy me a drink, could you maybe go breathe somewhere else?" Most everyone at the Jolly Roger knew to leave her alone or suffer her wrath, but she took her chances when she ventured elsewhere. Drinking at the bar where she worked was a level of pathetic she couldn't usually stand. If she was going to do that, she might as well just give her paycheck back to Hook and pass the other half on to Hades.

[the-alphonze]

I mean

I

Y’know what yeah

I love the very accurate crew on the very accurate albatross