#thusaliar

[miratenebrarum]

@thusaliar

019. — Bite my muse P to P (let them go feral ig)

"-!!!"

Well. That's not something he expected. This is what happens when you lower your defenses: someone is always there, ready to make your evening a little more painful!

...but, well. If one P will act like a feral cat, so will the other - not by biting back, but by smacking his double directly in the face.

[troublcmakcrs]

     @thusaliar   〢  cont from here .

   Tweek was an ordinary citizen, as ordinary as they came, anyway.  And it was hard to find other people like himself, other thinking beings who weren’t frenzied or sick or something.  Although, calling him ‘well’ required one to stretch the definition of the word a bit.

   When a voice emanated without any mouth movement, Tweek’s eyes darted about, seeking the source of it.  Not finding anything but hearing a faint cricket chirp, his skin began to crawl, ad he raked his nails over his arm, hoping to quiet the insects that had taken up residence in his veins.  He was losing it; he didn’t even know if that voice just now was real, even though it didn’t sound like any of his other ghosts.  Was it worth answering it?

   He shook his head, partially to the voice and partially to himself.  No, nobody could help him home, and no, it wasn’t worth answering.

   “Y-y-y-you shouldn’t g-go in there,” he said, shrinking back and pulling his coat tight as a chill ripped through him.  “That—that thing is—gah!—tearing everything apart.  It almost got m-me.  It’s not safe.”  He moved to take the stranger’s hand with his own shaky one again, but he drew back.  “I’m getting—getting out of here.”  A glance over his shoulder.  “You should c-come with me.”

[crownhcart]

why is your hand shaking so much then?

[eternaleye]

@thusaliar

her heart beats.

it is slow, incomplete. part of her is missing. a gap in the void that is already eating her up inside. the black starts to shift, becoming light and color and she hisses between her teeth- it is a annoying way to wake up from a century long rest.

memories flood her fast as she uncurls her body, fetal position snapping into the shape of something more monstrous. she moves with inhuman gait, clawing up at the opening in the dirt and stone that had kept her prisoner for who knows how long.

the sun was never clever when trying to hide her body after one of their spats. the walls would always fall away and rot with time, leading her to be free to continue her glorious purpose once again.

it won't be long before mother dearest knows she's awake again.

she must take haste, regain her strength to reclaim what is hers and slaughter them, tear them apart, cleave them into pieces and feast upon what gives them life. pulling herself up from the rubble of her tomb, she saw it-

she was in a...city of sorts, but one that looked like it was just as decrepit as her secret cage was. it was abandoned. no flickers of life could be felt on the tip of her tongue. no sustenance to aid her in rebuilding her to what she used to be.

then she feels it.

a spark. something...that is alive but not flesh. it reeks of metal and oil and heat. her tail curls at her side, prehensile pincers snapping shut around the false skull of some...mimic.

it garbles at her in a strange language, swinging a useless weapon- a crowbar? -in her general direction. she crushed its head with her tail in a puff of smoke. the sounds stop and it glows.

blue. blue. blue.

her own purple pulses in response, claws tearing into the chest cavity of the mimic, cleaving it open to devour the lifeforce that remains inside.

oh....this...this will do just nicely.

[paleontaxi]

     closed starter for   ⟶   @thusaliar

   The clopping of horse hooves echoed through the desolate streets, the carriage wheels rattling over wet cobblestone and splashing through the occasional puddle.  The misty air foretold a thicker downpour later in the evening, one that would render the streets much more dangerous, nigh impassible.  From under the brim of his hat, the carriage driver scanned the streets for potential customers.  It was never hard to find paying customers in weather like this, always someone who didn’t want to come down with consumption, even if the city’s population had dwindled significantly.

   Jarod couldn’t bring himself to move on from it, the place where his daughter was buried.

   He slowed the horses, one black and the other dusty brown, both horribly flea-bitten, and stopped them in front of a thin young man, looking more a boy than anything.  “Good evening, sir,” he said, touching his hat brim.  “You look like you got someplace to go.  Get ya there in a quarter the time, for an Ergo if you like.”

[nebula-drcams]

@thusaliar asked: Tanzanite, Moonstone, Jasper for Damien and Nimue from gemstones!

Gemstone Headcanons || Currently Accepting

Tanzanite: Do they heal quickly or do bruises and cuts tend to heal slowly?

For Damien, he obviously heals rather quickly due to what he is. Bruises and cuts don't really stay, but he does get scars from the deeper injuries. So there's obviously evidence of something hurting him, as it doesn't completely heal over. Of course, it also depends on how much damage he's taken in the one spot that depends on how quickly he heals. Multiple attacks in the same spot at the same time { say he's scratched / dug at repeatedly in one spot in particular, that spot takes maybe a few hours to a day or two to fully heal }

Nimue on the other hand heals slower than normal. Her healing and sickness recovery are about as lousy as can be considering she doesn't take as good care of herself as she should. Missed meals and poor sleep schedules actually make it rather hard for her to recover proper. Bruises will last longer than they should and small cuts will take time to heal, consider how bad it'd be if she got really hurt.

Moonstone: What inspires them? Why?

Nothing. Damien doesn't really have inspiration, he's just kinda there since he was supposed to put an end to the world. He hasn't really found anything or anyone to ' inspire ' him. It's not much different with Nimue either, she doesn't exactly have inspiration but then again she also lives out of sheer spite as a fuck you to her sister. 

These may change in the future, but as of right now they're both a little ' lost ' so to speak.

Jasper: What do they typically do to relax?

Damien in general is a pretty relaxed person?? At least he is now compared to when he was a child. But for the most part if he was a little too close to being stressed, he'd most likely find a fire source. IE. fireplace, bonfires, or even put up with being in Hell just to sort of sit in front of a fire and listen to the crackling. He's not sure why he finds it soothing in some weird way, but it's better than nothing.

Nimue on the other hand has several methods. Between playing Animal Crossing, paying attention to her cat, cooking/baking, or just sitting down with a cup of tea { usually lavender } to calm herself. She's taught herself methods of handling stress, though it's often just temporary. 

[freeddead]

     closed starter for   ⟶   @thusaliar

   Krat, supposedly a wonderful city at one point in time, reduced to what Gerry saw before him now, thanks to two catastrophic events.  Never before had he seen something so localized and contained, a minor apocalypse in its own right, perhaps by some Entity doing a practice run for a future ritual.  Whatever it was, it was worth an investigation.

   He was going to be mostly on his own because the human population of the place was devastated by disease and the puppet frenzy—Corruption and Stranger, if he had to make a preliminary judgment.  Still, they always left witnesses behind, and he would take whatever help came his way.

   He had been in the city for almost a full day, roaming around, narrowly avoiding being taken out by some of the automatons he encountered, nothing especially helpful.  He was looking for some documentation, an… Archive, that might tell him a bit more about what happened here, almost writing off the possibility of talking to someone entirely, when he came across someone that looked more human than the rest.

   “Hey!”  He tried to flag them down, to signal that he wasn’t a threat, but his appearance had never been especially inviting.  “Hey, if I could have a moment, I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay.”

[slightly-gay-pogohammer]

commission for @thusaliar! thank you again!!!

[angelicgentleman]

Alllright, I believe this needs to be said.

This blog is currently on a hiatus, and I can't say for sure how long will it stay this way.

It is not because I don't write Pip anymore; I do, in fact. Ever since I started writing him, he had always been a strong muse for me and that didn't change. I love him as much as I always did, if not more.

This being said;

This blog survived two massive falling-outs. I've dealt with one of them, I'm still dealing with the other. While no fall out will ever bring this blog down, I don't feel very good about this blog in its current state. Perhaps I need to clean it up, and rework it together with graphics, tags, and everything in between.

It feels messy and for the last couple of months drafts here felt like a chore, and I hate that feeling, this is not what writing with my friends is supposed to be (of course, its not my friends' fault, only my own for putting the pressure on myself.)

For now, Im not dropping any threads yet, but it might change if I decide to rework this blog.

Pip is available on discord for everyone and especially my beloved mutuals, people I have threads with over here.

Pip will return, just give me some time.

In the meantime, I'm available on @thusaliar <- I am hoping to bring Pip to this state one day, with everything feeling just right.

[miratenebrarum]

@thusaliar

[ cont ]

On the contrary, Venigni sounds... delighted? Maybe with a hint of tiredness. Clearly, he spent all the time usually dedicate to sleep to work on whatever he has in front of him - the cup of boiling coffee in a hand and the several empty ones on the table beside his latest inventions being enough of a proof.

Pulcinella should know better than letting him drink five in an evening, by know. He probably also knew that he couldn't do much to make him actually rest, if he didn't want to.

"I finally got it, my friend!"

Especially if he's so pumped! The free hand lands on P's shoulder, accompanying him to actually witness his genius.

"I wanted to work on something like this for quite a while!" he continues, showing off what seemed to be a completely normal Legion Arm. Nothing fancy nor new at first sight, if not for some holes surrounding it.

"A Legion Arm that can use different attacks! Like when you use different abrasives!" he takes a swing to the coffee cup then, letting it join its empty comrades to pick his latest invention up, pointing at the holes "You can put items in here... like one of your thermites, and you should be able to pack a firey punch!"

Scratch that. He sounds positively out of his mind. Hopefully it's because of the joy of finishing a project and not a side effect of insomnia.

"It still has some problems with acid, granted... but nothing that can't be fixed now!"

[nebula-drcams]

@thusaliar Cont. from Here. 

   There's silence at his response, lips press into a thin line as she lets out a hum. Sure, she may not know him, but that statement alone says quite a bit. There's a brief glance at P, and then straight ahead. She won't assume that she knows him, or what's going on. But there is one thing she's sure of. 

" Perhaps not in the way that most people consider a past, no. But technically, you have one. Be it five minutes ago, or even a day, or more. Every passing second is a part of your past. Those too, can make quite an impact on you depending on what they are. But the past isn't always filled with pain, at least that's what people have told me. I've yet to see the ' good memories ' people often talk about, only the bad. Perhaps you'll end up more fortunate than I. "

[troublcmakcrs]

   Tweek was, of course, sick, just not with petrification.  Living in this world, even before it went to hell and his parents and everyone else succumbed to the virus, had taken its toll on his mind, turned him quite hysterical.  As dangerous as Krat already was, it seemed he invented new terrors for himself at every turn and had lost almost all trust in his own senses.  If there were still very many doctors around, perhaps he would have been confined to the asylum, but the other problems of the city made Tweek’s lunacy the least of everyone else’s concerns.

   Other than that, he could be taken for quite healthy as far as humans went, just rather slight and sleepless.

   “No, wait—!” Tweek called as P and his disembodied voice retreated toward the building.  He reached a hand out, but it was too late.  The pair of them were already closer to the door than he wanted to be personally, and then they were gone.  “Agh!”  Nobody ever listened to him, even back when there were more people around to hear him.  Why did he even bother?

   He paced back and forth, glaring at the stones under his feet, unsure what to do.  He didn’t feel right walking away and abandoning P and his voice, but they were likely already dead if they had even been real at all.  They told him to wait here—should he?  Or would it not be better for him to just leave?

   He was still locked in this debate with himself, the quick rhythm of his well-worn boots putting him in a kind of trace when that disembodied voice greeted him again.  As he had mostly believed P dead already and did not expect to see him again, the sudden reappearance of him and his lantern caused Tweek to startle and cry out.  His eyes darted over P’s oil-covered form and inferred what must have happened.  Even if the frenzied puppet was destroyed, though, he was not going inside.

   He resumed his pacing, finding that it was a good way to work off some nervous energy, and shook his head.  “No, I’m n-not going back in there.  The smell…”  It would still make him faint, even if it was no longer dangerous.

   He paused, glanced up at P, down at Gemini, then at the ground again, and continued his walk.  “You’re one—one of those things…  You don’t look like it, but you are…  You’re not—but you haven’t l-lost it yet.”  ‘Yet’ being the operative word.  Tweek could not bring himself to trust not one, but two beings that could succumb to the frenzy at literally any time, but there was no denying that they solved his immediate problem.

   “Well, thank you, anyway…  I’m Tw-Tweek…”

P tilted his head slightly, not quite understanding what was going on there. Barely anyone reacted this way towards him - people either mistook him for a stalker, or quite the opposite, tried to fight and defeat him. Of course, that never ended well for them. This person, however, tried to stop him and pull him away from the danger. That didn't happen unless it was trusted friends from the Hotel. Tweek didn't belong to those people, but P managed to read one of his emotions well; it was fear, a very strong one too.

The puppet shook his head, pulling his hand further away from Tweek. If there was a puppet inside, that was his job - to defeat it, so that the citizens of Krat were safe. It was rare to see healthy ones anyway; Tweek either wasn't infected or was in the very early stages of it. Still, sick or not, he deserved protection.

"It's going to be alright, pal. P here know what he's doing." Gemini chirped in again, reading Tweek's despair better than the puppet. "You can stay here, but you'll be fine either way. The frenzied puppet will be gone in no time!" the cricket's voice was, as usual, cheery. P looked down to his lamp, then to Tweek again, and nodded.

Without another word, P walked into the house in front of him, immediately spotting the puppet inside. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but P wouldn't question Tweek's reaction. Who was he to question someone's feelings anyway? He wasn't good at reading his own emotions, let alone a complete stranger.

Defeating the puppet didn't take him longer than usual and soon, the puppet walked out of the ruined house, his clothes and skin stained with oil, but with no damage to his own body. P never played with frenzied puppets; not only was it dangerous, but also cruel. Though not all puppet have awakened their Egos, a lot of them were still considered to be part of someone's family before the frenzy started. It wasn't until he had met Romeo that he started to understand puppets better. Even with the frenzy, they had no choice. They were victim to all this mess too.

"It's safe inside again, pal." Gemini said, the lamp flickering just slightly with every word. The cricket must have spotted the discomfort of the human in front of them whenever he spoke, so he decided to introduce himself. "Didn't mean to scare you, pal! I'm Gemini, a guide puppet! Down here!" P followed by turning slightly and pointing to his lamp.

[thusaliar]

Someone's Necklace: A necklace once worn by the King of Puppets. It is engraved with a puppet's scribblings. 'It will be all right, always at your side, Romeo.' To Romeo (@ervaurem), Your Friend C P (@thusaliar).

[miratenebrarum]

@thusaliar

⚔ from P to P (if you're good with dupes!), might be fun

Why did this bother him?

He should be used to see his own face staring back at him. Granted, it's not like he saw it often -- he'd much rather avoid looking at the portrait in his father's room, so similar yet so different from him -- and yet there's something in the other raising his weapon and inciting him to attack that just... bothers him.

Maybe it's because those are his own eyes.

The other puppet lifted his sword, and Pinocchio rushes to make their blades meet.

He wanted a duel? Sure. Fine. Let's fight, then.

[paleontaxi]

   Keeping horses wasn’t exactly an easy task, with all of the disease in the air and dangers at every turn, but Jarod was a determined man.  He considered himself to be in possession of unfinished business in Krat.  Lola had been murdered, but with mass graves already piled high with petrified corpses, it was impossible to get anyone to give the mystery the time of day.  That left the investigation up to Jarod alone, and as long as he could not go down, that meant preserving all of himself, including his profession.

   Being a carriage driver was an excellent ruse, as it gave him an excuse to stay out in the streets, searching, and provided him access to the remainders of Krat’s population.  Someone had to have seen or heard something, to know somebody who knew somebody, or something of the like.  So, he kept picking people up in hopes of gaining more information.  Some days were more fruitful than others, and the past few had not been at all.  This was the first customer Jarod had had in days.

   At least, it didn’t put much strain on the horses to pull an empty carriage around, not like it might if they were carrying several families to and for every day.  But the streets were still not safe for them, and while Jarod had never been a bad shot with a pistol, he had been training his marksmanship further in his spare time, ensuring his ability to put holes in any being who saw fit to attack them.  They were not always effective against the metal bodies of the puppets, but they bought more time than nothing at all.  The crack of bullets also startled the horses into moving more quickly.

   The soft glow of the lantern accompanied by the voice let him know that he was taking on more than one passenger, but given that it was no extra weight on the wheels or horses, he was not going to charge them any more.  The spirit in the lantern warmed him somewhat.  It was not every day that he came across somebody who marveled so at his horses.  The dusty brown one flicked its ears back upon hearing the passengers board the carriage, and both of them stirred in anticipation for the trip.

   The hotel was a familiar place as it seemed most of Krat’s non-frenzied activity happened around there.  He had driven to and from it a handful of times, so he knew the way well and drove the horses forward in that direction.  The rain on the carriage’s cover and the clip-clopping of hooves might have created an almost hypnotic effect but for the fact that it was occasionally broken up by the wheel clunking and jolting against a broken piece of cobblestone.

   “You don’t talk much, do ya?” Jarod said, looking dead at the young man on the seat beside him.  “That’s all right.”  He had had plenty of quiet rides before.  Some people he picked up were too weary to do much talking, despite the questions he tried to pose to them.  He could not hold it against anyone, given the state of the world.  It did not breed happy, chattering people.

   The being in the lamp seemed more than pleased to converse, so Jarod faced the road again, resolved to direct all of his future questions to them.  “I imagine it has been an age since you’ve seen them.”  He nodded to the horses, unsure if the lamp spirit could even see the gesture.  “It’s been hell keepin’ these two alive, but they’re all I’ve got, so I make do.”  It was not as though he could venture out to a stable and purchase one or more if these ones expired.  It was certainly easier maintaining a carriage when there were more living animals around.

   “It is a risk keeping the flesh and blood ones, but no more than the mechanical ones.”  If anything, living horses were less of a liability than puppets, but not by much.

   “The hotel’s nice,” he said.  “Heard it used to be nicer, but I never saw much of it in its glory days.  I’ve got my own place in the country and just come into the city looking for work, so I never had a real reason to stay there.”  From his understanding, some people had taken up more permanent residence there, and it was no longer the sort of facility people used for holidays.

   He had been meaning to ask around the hotel more.  Anyone who knew anything about Lola had probably come through there, maybe even her murderer.  It was an impossibly minute chance, but Jarod still hoped that her killer was alive so that he could have the pleasure of disposing of them.  It would be just as well if they were dead.  He just wanted answers, to know what happened so that maybe he could know peace.

   “Have you two been there long?”  He was trying to keep his inquiries as close to small talk as he could.  “Got any friends?”  He could not just come out and ask them if they knew much about the other residents.  “Or do you prefer keepin’ to yourselves?”

The puppet was out on an evening stroll, taking out all of the puppets that he had left behind the last time he wandered the streets, as well as the ones that traveled here from different parts of the city. It's been a while since he had started doing so, and the more puppets he destroyed, the harder it got. All of these puppets had families at some point, now taken away from them by their own hands, although not by their own will. It was sad. They were victims as much as people were, and being a puppet himself, P couldn't help but feel bad about it all.

P was never at risk of getting infected with petrification disease and joining the frenzy was never an option for him. He was spared from both of the tragedies, but at what cost. All he got from it was being a witness. Witness of pain and misery, despair. The puppet stopped counting how many of his kind got destroyed by his sword, but he kept count of the number of people had to kill on his path. He never wanted to do so, but they left him no choice - when someone attacks him, he has no choice but to defend himself. All of those kills were weighing on him more with each passing day.

Spare for him, all the nearby streets were cleared out, leftover oil and rain streaming down into the street's gutter. P stared up at the sky, thinking. The rain won't stop anytime soon. He couldn't get sick from it, but it would make him heavier and in consequence, slower. Fighting wasn't an option anymore, it was too risky.

Then a sound, one that he couldn't recognize. P never heard the sound of horses, never saw one alive to begin with. All of the horses he had seen were lying in the streets, killed and broken. This was new. Gemini, although able to recognize the sound and sight of horses, was surprised as much as the other puppet. "I haven't seen one in ages!" he exclaimed, his tone betraying excitement. Perhaps it meant the city was slowly getting back to its normal self. They could only hope.

When the man stopped right next to him, P took a step back, seemingly distrustful of the horses. He sure liked animals, but the only one he knew and was familiar with was the Hotel's cat, Spring. P wasn't counting the mechanical dogs spread through the city, frenzied just like any other puppet. P listened to him, though his eyes were glued to the two strange creatures, stomping their hooves against the road.

"Yes, good sir! We would like to go back to the Krat Hotel, if you will!" Gemini replied for the both of them, visibly annoyed with the rain despite being locked inside a lamp. P looked at him shortly, confused, unaware that the man's job was to ride people around, taking them to their desired destinations. With a cue from Gemini, P carefully approached the carriage and slowly climbed it, eventually sitting down, albeit cautiously. The only carriages he had seen were broken or burnt.

All of it was completely new.