#itisacorpsewholovesyou

[pettiirosso]

“Get down from there”

Meme: Send “Get down from there” for your muse to see mine standing on a ledge ( accepting ) 

IT WAS COLD FOR AN AUGUST NIGHT or maybe it was just the cold inside her that made her shiver. The wind whipped up her hair and twirled it around her face, blocking her view from the ABYSS in front of her. Alessia didn’t know for how long she was standing here at the edge of the Palais’ roof. When she had come here - maybe hours, maybe just minutes ago - her intention had been so clear. Now she felt like she didn’t know and didn’t want anything at all. There was just this numb VOID inside of her, that had even took her sorrow and guilt away, that she had felt for so many years. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to make that one last step. But she also couldn’t bring herself to step back. It was like she she was stuck up here. And so she just stood up there, motionless, like the many statues decorating the house. Motionless, until she heard a soft voice.HIM. Of all the popele who could have find her it was him. A joyless laugh escaped her lips and she lowered her eyes. Was she really surprised? This house, it was his REALM. Nothing could happen within these walls without him noticing it. Or at least it seemed. Maybe, deep down inside, she had expected him to see her coming here. But what she didn’t expect was his INTERFERENCE. ❝ Don’t pretend you’d care ❞ her voice was calm as she looked up to gaze at him. This wasn’t an accusation. It was just the truth. The truth as she saw it.  

[helenathelittlemonster2-blog]

@itisacorpsewholovesyou

Unseen: My muse walks in on yours killing someone

Erik knew that he should run, or at least look away, but neither thought would reach his body. All he could do was watch, even though his conscience told him that he was not supposed to see this. Nobody was. Usually one to speak her mind and always a subject of intense observation, Helena’s door had never been closed before, even when she was tied to her bed or restrained in some other—usually more barbarous—way. Though there were no locks on the hospital doors in case of emergency; if the door to Helena’s room was shut a deadbolt, it would have proved a lesser deterrent.

…Or, at the very least, it should have, but Erik was loathe to obey the rules, especially when it meant that he couldn’t see his friend. He had been coming to see Helena almost every night for the past month, always inventing new ways to slip past the guards and doctors. It had become a routine by now, Erik occasionally bringing books and what few toys he had been allowed with him so that the two would have ample activities during their time together.

He should have realized that something was amiss when he noticed that there were no guards in the hallway that night, rather than thanking God for his good fortune. It had been getting harder and harder to hide now that he had gotten a little taller over the past few months. The strange, metallic smell should have made him curious, at the very least, but he had been far too excited at the prospect of playing with Helena to bother, even when the scent became overwhelming. He did not even see the blood under the door until it was far too late. He had seen a few of the other sick children die, but it usually looked like going to sleep. He had never seen anyone die from being cut up like surgery before, much less so many people, and especially people wearing white uniforms that made the blood all over their bodies that much more visible.

“They were hurting you…so you hurt them back.” Erik murmured softly as he squinted at Helena and noticed the knife in her hand. It was more a statement than a question, for that was the only way that Erik could even begin to understand what he had seen, “why were they hurting you? The doctors said you were so important. Why did they hurt you?”

Helena had waited, and waited, and waited. She did not want Erik to see.  He was her friend. Her only friend. And--he should not see this. Also, she did not want the doctors to see. She did not want them to see that she had a knife. That she knew how to use it. That she would use it, So, she waited, and waited, and waited.  Till finally, that night, she could not wait anymore. 

It was time.

Just in case, she shut the door. That should be enough to keep Erik away. There was no lock on the door--they weren't allowed--but she'd shut it anyway. During. Tonight, there were more doctors than normal. That was never good. There were only many when they wanted to give her many shots, or make her go to sleep so they could do tests--or tie her doen, because she was Being Bad, or because for the tests she had to be awake and still. 

But tonight, she was ready. Tonight, she hid under her bed and waited. She attached their ankles first, slicing at them with the knife. They should not, probably, have let her watch the tel-e-vision show about sharks. Once the doctors fell, one by one, Helena pounced on them. They wanted to watch her, so she took their eyes, and broke their fingers so they could not write anything ever again. Then, she slit their throats, killing them. 

Then, Erik was there, his words snapping her head up. She peered at him, blinking. Words were always hard. They were even harder when she was panting, and sore, because the doctors had fought back. “"Yes.” She swallowed, made her fingers let go of the knife. Her hands suddenly shook and her fingers began to ache as she sank to the floor, arms wrapping around herself. “They lied. If I am important, they would not hurt me. But they did. For studies. And tests. And op-er-at-ions, and going sleeping, and sometimes not going sleeping. So.” She nodded to the bodies. “"Now they cannot, ever again.”

[invaderoperaghost]

@itisacorpsewholovesyou “Here’s what I’ve been working on!” Boot gestured to a row of five robots of varying heights, made of a gray metal with pink eyes. “These have a very typical Irken AI system at the moment, with the added benefit that if something were to happen to me, my PAK could attach onto one and I’d be fine. I could even do that now if I wanted.”   She paused, glancing at the informational displays for the robots’ current statuses. She didn’t like asking for help if it could be avoided, especially such a big favor, but she felt past that point. “But I have a favor to ask...could you help me make them seem more human? Both in appearance and behavior, they’d be too obvious right now to send out in public for any tasks. To fix the behavior issue, I’d need some human brains to study, preferably alive. I think it’d be possible to run them from a combination of a brain and a computer, but I’d have to test it to be sure. I didn’t want to collect them myself and inadvertently harm anyone you’d miss, though. I don’t know where to start with making them appear human, as our systems for that seem ineffective. Would you be willing to help me with this project?”

[twistedcveryway]

@itisacorpsewholovesyou - continued from [X]

As the mermaid’s song filled the air, she became aware that she was not the only one making music. There was something else, something drifting to her ears from somewhere along the shore. What was making that sound? It was not a voice, but oh, it was lovely. Curiosity had always been her vice, and Christine soon decided that she simply must know who or what was producing such an overwhelmingly beautiful sound.

Slowly, being careful not to make too much noise, she slid down from her rocky perch and back into the water. Never once did she cease her own song as she followed its mysterious partner closer and closer to the shore. At last, she peered around a cluster of rocks and beheld the one responsible for turning her solo into a duet. It was the first human she had ever personally laid eyes on, and the music was coming from the lovely device resting below the player’s masked chin. A dozen questions---or more!---came to her mind, and in a moment of thoughtlessness, she leaned further out from her hiding place. Submerged up to her shoulders, her tail and true identity were still well-hidden, but surely the human would see her.

[kopiya]

tagged by @soldatka to list 5 facts about myself and then tag 8 people

1. I was born at 24 weeks or 25 I never can remember and spent 7 months in the NICU.

2. I apparently had a Super Bad reaction to some meds I was on for my lungs and wound up (nearly litetally) climbing the walls when I was like idk a toddler.

3. I flew off a merry go round when I was a toddler.

4. I have my PhD in modern European history.

5. I can kinda speak French and read a little bit of Ukrainian.

Tagging; @govtdna @the-autistic-detective @vuulpecula @g33kych33ky @burnitalldcwn @lovesjello @itisacorpsewholovesyou @monstricidal

[paiintedidol]

when your muse is pouty because the love of her life isn’t around when she wants him. -sends smoke signals to @itisacorpsewholovesyou- 

[the-liars-you-love]

@itisacorpsewholovesyou

     The dressing room of the opera house was once a haven for the soprano. She remembers the days when she could sit in this same chair, get ready for her performances, laugh with her fellow performers... It all seems like a lifetime ago, even if only a year has passed. Slender fingers run over the top of the vanity. Never once does she allow her eyes to flicker up. To look in the mirror.             But she does glance over her shoulder as laughter passes down the hall. A deep breath sears itself into her lungs, burning with the desperation to be exhaled, but she can’t trust that the exhalation will not shake. A turn, away from the mirror. Exhale. Hands folded over her abdomen. Well, the singer thinks to herself, we’re home. And Madama Butterfly must go on. It’s an intimidating thought, and at last she looks at the wardrobe, and sees the silks of her costumes, and the nerves are setting in. A new feeling for her-- brought on by her past and those that destroyed it. She needs to get ready. A hand comes up to rest upon her pale throat. Deep breath.

          “Where do I even begin?”

[let-her-mind-wonder]

@itisacorpsewholovesyou

Winter had come early to Paris, and Christine felt the chill of it even in her dressing room as she practiced her aria for the production of Faust due to start in about a month. Her voice sang and trilled through the magnificent notes as she brushed through her long dark curls. 

[kesheph-blog]

itisacorpsewholovesyou

 “ive been reading a lot of The Discourse™ lately and adjacent to that a...”

//I'd be willing to do something in my modern AU, if you count biromantic asexual as queer and agender demimale as trans. (Mun is also biromantic asexual and agender.)

that’s what the b and t are for! c:

[twistedcveryway]

Lost at Sea ((Because we've been planning this for years and it hasn't happened yet.))

Send me “Lost at sea”  for a thread where my muse is a mermaid/siren

It was not often that Christine ventured above the surface of the sea. But on this day, the sun was shining spectacularly, and she had such a fondness for lying out on the rocks and feeling its warmth on her skin and scales, so different from the cool waters of her ocean home. Stretching out across a large rock, her fluke dipping into the water and swaying lazily with the motion of the waves, Christine felt a lovely sense of peace settle in. Hands running through her wet curls, she watched the sun’s rays dance across the surface of the water, glittering and almost blindingly lovely. The surrounding area had seemed deserted enough, and so the mermaid gave thoughts to the possibility of being overheard by humans as she began to sing to herself.

[paiintedidol]

@itisacorpsewholovesyou

“Keep playing,” Meg murmured softly. Unbeknownst to him, she had made her way down into the catacombs, following the sound of the organ. She felt hypnotized by the music, as always, as though it held its own secret kind of magic over her. His hands had lifted from the keys as she entered, but she did not want the spell to be broken. Her hands rested on his shoulders and she gazed down to the papers before him. “Something new?”

[itrhymeswithtable]

“Who will believe you?”

Mabel bit her lip. “Someone has to. Or I’ll make you leave me alone myself. I’m done, Erik.”