#try to revive those muses

[deathxproof]

Something very bittersweet in the feeling of your muse missing someone else's muse(s) that don't really exist anymore.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

*When asked about Sonic*

Chaos Sonic: Hah. So we're still talking about that blue pitstain? Whatever. He can be fun to toy with, sure, but he's old news. Last year's model. A failure of a friend and a passable hero. Nine wants him alive for "some reason"—that involves his "intense attachment"—so I won't kill him or anything. I'll leave him alone in a room with Nine over my dead body—or my best friend's wishes, since I cannot bear to refuse him. If I could, though, I'd love the chance to "play" with him some, "rough him up" a little as payback for how he treated my best friend.

Alpha Grim Sonic (answering via writing it down, sign language, transmission, whatever because he's mute): You refer to the blue hedgehog. Once upon a time, my master, Nine, seemed to be troubled when thinking of him. There was a time when Sonic brought a fight to our doorstep, but no matter how Sonic may have hurt him in the past, he has chosen to preserve my master's life. Nine seems to trust him, and Sonic has not threatened his life. So, as I do not have the capacity to experience such things as "emotions", and they would not matter even if I did have the ability, I do not mind if my master associates with Sonic the Hedgehog. If Nine is happy, and the hedgehog does not intend harm upon him, then all is well.

ㅤ

*When asked about Shadow*

Chaos Sonic: Oh, he's that black hedgehog, right?! Seems cool! I'd love to race him sometime. Of course, I'll fight him too if he intends to lay a finger on my best buddy, but all is well if he plays nice.

Alpha Grim Sonic (answering not by speaking, because he is mute): Shadow the Hedgehog. You do refer to the black hedgehog, do you not? If he intends to bring harm upon my master again, I will not hesitate in removing him. He has not received forgiveness for trying to kill my master during the war. Nine surely allows him to live because he is gracious, but if he so commanded me to I would rip the hedgehog him limb from limb. It is my duty to do what my master commands, and I will be ready should the hedgehog try anything or should my master finally revoke his trust in him.

[blond3ang3l]

The most loyalest of servants. That is what you and your partner Uruame were to your king Sukuna. Thousands of years the two of you spent by his side. Ruling and causing misery for those deemed below you three. The news of him being sealed away brought pain for you Uruame. But just how did the two meet you?

Sukuna was sat upon his throne, looking utterly bored and grouchy as servants scurry silently around him. He had taken over more and more of the land. Slaughtering anyone who dared defied him, and just because he could. Currently he was being given his sacrifices. All of them the same thing, meat or weapons.

Each and every one of the people cowered in fear before him, knowing he might kill any of them for even breathing too loudly for his liking . That is when you were brought in. Given to him by your village since they feared him. His most loyal servant, Uruame, stood next to him.

Behind you stood your villages leaders. you were they best they had, better than any girl. you were the towns doll, a porcelain doll. Sukuna was disgusted by it. This is what they gave him? Something some frail?

You were standing in front of your village’s leaders as you was lead into the castle of lord Sukuna. You had no idea what to expect since they never explained why you were going.

One of the village elders stepped forward, clearing his throat to get Sukuna's attention. The elder prostrated himself, touching his forehead to the dirty floor with his hands folded in front of him.

“L-Lord Sukuna, we have one last offering for you.”

One of the elders spoke. Sukuna had little to no interest, but lifted an eyebrow expectantly, peering at you with his four eyes. He glances at Uraume, and they speak wordlessly through eye-contact with one another before they turn back to look at you. Sukuna, however, was the first to break the silence.

"So this is your offering?"

“Is he your best?”

Uraume added, looking you up and down while eyeing the village leaders. The leader bowed.

“Y-Yes. The finest the village has to offer in human form. We’ve offered you all we have, please spare us, lord Sukuna.”

Sukuna didn’t look to be entertained in the slightest. He let out an exasperated huff of boredness. The only female elder stood next to you. her expression clearly over her male counterparts.

“He is more than they have led on my lord. he is the spirit of our village. he has the ability of reincarnation, he can reincarnate others. he himself of immortal.”

Those were words that immediately caught Sukuna's attention, he seemed to have a piqued interest in your ability of reincarnation. Sukuna’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you, trying to decide whether this was truly the ‘best’ the village had to offer.

"Immortal you say?"

Sukuna muses, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lip. He leaned back comfortably against his throne and looked at Uraume to speak.

“It’s true, sire.”

The elder spoke up.

“He is immortal. He has died and revived many times during our time. Our records date back millennia.”

Sukuna seemed impressed, but remained unmoving on the outside. He had a reputation after all, a reputation he worked hard to uphold. One of power and violence. After a moment of thought and staring at you, he spoke once more.

“Prove it.”

The room grew silent. all eyes in the room moved from Lord Sukuna to you. the pressure was immense. the air in the room was tense. the elder looked at you expectantly, looking to you to prove to Sukuna your worth. your leader gave you a nod, urging you to show Lord Sukuna that you were indeed immortal. Uraume's eyes were locked tightly on you, eagerly watching to see what would happen.

You went to turn to face the female elder when you felt her stab a small sword through my heart. You were not expecting of it at all, merely turning to speak with her. You looked down at the weapon sticking through your chest and back.

Uraume, now standing next to Sukuna’s throne was staring speechless at you in utter shock and disbelief. How could you speak with a sword through your heart? how was that possible? how could this be?

“A warning would suffice next time.”

For the first time you spoke up and you acted like it was nothing. Blood dripping from your chest, sword impaled through your chest, and you were worried about a damn warning. You got a chuckle out of Sukuna, a deep chuckle that echoed through the room and bounced off the walls. It was the first time he had ever laughed in the presence of any other being, and it was because of you.

“A warning would have been nice indeed…”

Sukuna muttered in agreement with you. Oh he was going to have some fun with you..

[misslycoris]

AULD LANG SYNE

For old time's sake — Alastor spends the new year remembering a person from his distant past.

STORY TAGS Angst, childhood friends, flashback, happy ending but not really but everyone's happy, no smut, gender neutral reader, no mention of y/n

“𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝,

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍?

𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝,

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚎?”

New years meant a lot to Alastor. In his first year in Hell, it gave him the opportunity to see his first extermination day. Twenty-four hours of bloodshed delivered by Heaven's savages dressed in gray. The stroke of midnight signaled another year for him to spend terrorizing Hell and crushing the next incompetent power hoarder under his boot.

But after his untimely absence, celebrating the new year had taken on a different meaning for him. Charlie had a habit of celebration, she likes holding celebrations, yes, but more than that she loved reviving celebrations. From Valentine's Day, Easter, even until Christmas — not even Hell's counterpart Sinsmas — did she persuade her hotel patrons to celebrate. New Year's Eve was today's victim, even the impending danger of this year's extermination day wasn't enough to dissuade her.

"Alright, everyone! We have a few minutes left, and I just wanted to take a moment to make a toast!" Charlie happily stood up, raising her slim tall glass of champagne.

"For all of you who have been with me since the beginning, for those of you who have stayed with this hotel even if, uh, things were not so great." Vaggie held her shoulder with a reassuring smile.

"For those of you who are here despite our differences in beliefs and for those that we've lost. This hotel would've never been where it is if it weren't for all of you." It was a sentimental moment, with Charlie trying to wipe the tears that were threatening to spill out of the corner of her eyes.

"So, everyone! Let's spend tonight together and remember those that we've lost. Let's continue to live happily as friends and family! To a happy new year!" Each resident held up their glasses, chirping back her greetings before being absorbed back into their own conversations.

"Those that we've lost, huh?" Alastor mused to himself as he snuck off to the hotel's balcony. He's had enough socializing for one night, he could use a little break and a good glass of whiskey.

Outside the hotel was the same view as it always was, even if Charlie had her way in the hotel, the rest of Hell seemed more busy with preparing themselves for the annual cleanse. The smell of sulfur was a little more tolerable tonight, the noise downtown wasn't as bad as it usually was, and the harsh lights of the city were muted tonight. It was the calm before the storm, a moment of peace and a taste of what a quiet night would be like.

It gave him room to think and let his mind wander.

Back in the simpler days when he used to celebrate the arrival of a new year with other people in a nicer house than his, dressing up to the nines and pretending to have a happy family. A classic scene from his childhood to his early teen years that brought a smile that wasn't so difficult to etch on his face.

His family consisted of him and his mother, anyone else he may have forgotten to mention was rotten scum. Besides his blood-related family, however, were the people of his old neighborhood before he had moved into the city. Lovely folks the lot of them, all smiling and happy like they hadn't had a care in the world. It was especially true when they celebrated New Year's. He remembered lots of fireworks, and neighborhood parties where families either ate inside their houses or hosted a generous party for others to attend. Kids running around before being scolded by their parents, back to bed once midnight strikes, they've stayed up late for long enough they say.

It was in one of those celebrations he met you.

Odd little thing you were, traveling with your folks around the country, actors in those silent films his family sometimes watched in the local theater. They were eccentric, often going around in random out-of-the-way neighborhoods to spend your vacations away from the hectic cities. You were often left alone by the other children, you were new and nobody was brave enough to approach you and your odd family. You were simply that kid their mothers would force them to play with.

Alastor was similar in some regards.

His mother often went on long tirades about how every single kid in the neighborhood avoided her son like the plague and she hasn't got a clue why. Her son was obedient, kind, and more respectful than the others, so why was it he was always on his own?

Alastor chuckled at the thought. If only his mother knew how much of a devil he was, a little hellion who punched kids like there was no tomorrow before scaring them out of their wits. She would faint if she knew!

But that was why when his mother saw you, she had the grand idea of putting you and him together, ain't no better way to force foster friendship between two outcasts.

"Be nice okay? I'll be right over there servin' up the jambalaya." She ruffled his hair before leaving the both of you in an awkward silence. Alastor considers it the first experience he had with dealing with difficult people, and as the first of this instance, he was out of his element. He didn't like how quiet you were, he didn't like how you didn't mind it either. His family was always loud, in more ways than one, but his mother had always showered him with a lively home, one filled with music and smiles. Weren't you supposed to come from a couple of actors? Surely you had to have some sort of social bone in your body.

"I'm Alastor." He greets with a smile, you'd turn your head lazily toward him and take a moment to stare at him.

"Green doesn't suit you." Not even your name, no. The first words you've ever addressed him with were about his outfit. Mind you, he was wearing what his mother bought him for Christmas so he was understandably miffed, but you said it so blandly it didn't sound like it was an insult. It was just a statement, green in fact, didn't suit him.

"That face doesn't suit you." He narrowed his eyes, expecting you to cry or punch him, either way, he was prepared for.

"That missing tooth doesn't suit you." That was neither crying nor punching, what's next? He immediately slapped his hands over his mouth to cover it, last month, or was it the week before Christmas? Somewhere along those days, he had knocked his tooth out in a scuffle, one of the older kids had decided to pick a fight with him and Alastor had a few things going against him.

"What's wrong with that?" His voice came out muffled behind his hand.

Even when you met all he could remember was indifference on your end but for a moment he could remember how you stifled your laughter at the sight of him hiding his teeth. He doesn't know what his mother saw during your interaction that night but he remembers being dragged out to play with you whenever she was invited over by your mother for chitchats over beignets and coffee.

You were a strange child, you continued to comment on his fashion tastes and all you did was draw all day. No wonder no one wanted to play with you, you were no fun at all! For a conversationalist such as Alastor, it was as if he was put up against a brick wall, it's not even funny at the time, he remembered constantly falling into awkward bouts of silence even after trying to rile you up into bickering with him.

"You really should consider wearing red more often." There you went again, with your fashion statements all the while you kept your eyes glued on your sketchbook.

"You should consider makin' friends than whatever you're doin'." You shook your head.

"I'm fine, thank you." Kicking rocks all afternoon was hardly entertaining but he'd rather take that than sitting by the staircase. He had half a mind to just snatch your sketchbook from your hands and see what was so tantalizing about it.

Actually,

"Hey!" You didn't put up much of a fight when he did just that, only sending him a glare that warned him not to do anything he'd regret. It was a sketch of the house in front of you two, unfinished and rough but in the eyes of a child it looked like something that came out of a museum.

"You drew this?" He asked, flipping through other pages filled with illustrations of flowers, sceneries you've seen, picturesque locations you've been to, and random household items.

"Yes, now give it back." You snatched the sketchbook right out of his hands, flipping back to the sketch you've made. You clicked your tongue at the stray pencil mark that you accidentally made when he grabbed ahold of it, not being able to notice him sitting beside you and staring at your drawing until he was right there. That afternoon something shifted, Alastor began to ask you things about yourself. About your life and passion for arts, even the places you've been to. It was his first glimpse of the world outside of his city, stories about snowy mountains and humid canyons, skyscrapers lining up the streets, and the sound of vendors gathered in tight alleys.

You and Alastor grew to tolerate each other until that tolerance morphed into you and him actively seeking out each other's company.

Two odd ducks — he was often seen sneaking off to sit in a random meadow or empty field with you lagging behind him. Alastor did the talking and watched as you captured the beauty of his hometown within your sketchbook.

"Do you draw people?" Alastor saw fancy portraits in the houses of sugar barons and cotton kings so he'd expected you to have some drawings of your own but surprisingly, you didn't. Even with drawing bustling cities you actively try to avoid drawing people, at most, you'll draw silhouettes of people. Clumps of shadow meant to imitate a crowd.

"No."

"Why not?"

"They're too difficult. If you get one thing wrong it'll look messed up entirely." You held up your sketchbook against the landscape, trying to see if you had missed anything.

"Have you tried?"

"I drew my parents once, they're actors but even I could tell they had a hard time trying to like it." Alastor leaned against the grass, staring at the setting sun far beyond the horizon.

"Well, practice makes perfect. If you wanna be an artist you gotta try harder than that." You replied with a half-hearted hum, much more invested in your work than what he was saying.

"What do you want to be anyway? You wouldn't do so bad as a boxer." Perish the thought, he'd never. His dreams were far beyond his neighborhood and much farther beyond his city. To be heard by the masses, his name spread far and wide, that's right, a radio broadcaster. Starring in late-night crime shows and afternoon suspense series, in game shows and commercials. He'd be a household name! That way he'd help his dear old mother out of the throes of misery and be remembered by all.

"I'm destined for radio, I just know it." He said with confidence. How true those words were, there was never a doubt in Alastor's mind that he would make it, one way or another it was him against the world and he fucking won.

"Seems right for a chatterbox."

"Still, that doesn't change the fact that you need to start practicin'. Momma said she'll consider puttin' me in school but if you ask me I'd rather sell newspaper. At least we'll be earnin' somethin'." Your hands froze over the paper, bothered by something that he said but he couldn't tell what it was.

"School's starting soon, huh?" There was a solemn tone in your voice that he didn't understand back then.

"You don't like school?"

"You can say that." Alastor elbowed your shoulders at your reply.

"Wanna sell newspapers with me? I'll ask momma and then we'll go and ask your folks." You grabbed onto your sketchbook and began to pack up your things, getting rid of the weeds that were stuck on your socks.

"I don't think that's possible." Alastor stood up and followed right behind you, blissfully unaware of the turmoil you were currently facing. Your family was just about ready to leave New Orleans back then, aiming to provide you with formal education that your parents gathered up their savings on.

It was funny how big of a deal it seemed like to the both of you when your parents broke the news, you two even had a spat if he remembers correctly. That's the thing, however, it had been so long ago he couldn't even remember what you looked like. Not the color of your eyes, your hair, not anything. Half of what he remembers is either made up by an overactive imagination or half-truths he filled in to close any gaps. He was a child, it was in the early 1900s, and you were only in New Orleans for less than a year, he was surprised he could even remember you.

What he did remember was the single torn page you gave him before you left.

A portrait of him.

It was messy, filled with mistakes, and clearly something an amateur drew, you had all but cried when you were giving it to him. But for as rough as it was, no matter how disproportionate it might've looked to a seasoned professional, Alastor liked it. Like was a strong word but it was the truth. A childish appreciation of something objectively worthless. It was no Picasso, but it meant more than all those gaudy paintings tucked away in galleries. For something you were admittedly bad at you were more than willing to try, your parents told him you've crumpled more than half of your sketchbook's pages before you got something you were satisfied with.

He couldn't see any of your indifference during your day of departure, you and him stayed tethered to one another until the moment you had to leave.

"Let's see each other again someday!" Alastor shouted as you waved goodbye, he was holding the portrait between his arms, too scared to leave it unattended.

"I'll be waiting!" You shouted back.

As happy as you both tried to be, hoping to find the time to see each other again, you two never did. Your family never gave out your new address and while you had his, you never reached out. More than that, his family moved to a different part of the city when their financial situation went down the rocks due to a fool. So even if you did send a letter afterward, it wouldn't have reached Alastor.

That portrait you gave him soon got lost during the move, maybe he misplaced it somewhere or it was blown away by the wind into a crevice in his old house, never to be seen again.

You would've died decades ago so maybe you were up in Heaven enjoying a life without worries, you were always the voice of reason between the two of you. If you were somehow down here in Hell with him, then considering you hadn't reached out to him despite his notoriety it would mean you'd rather stay incognito, that or you were dead.

As distraught as he was back then, with time you became someone who was just a part of his childhood. Not meant to be anything more than just a memory that he can go back to reminisce and sometimes that's just alright. He'd hate to rope you into the mess he was up to during the 30's, maybe that's part of the reason he wasn't that keen on meeting you again.

Would he have wanted to? It was a nice thought, he wanted to know if you got somewhere within the art industry, he'd like to catch up and tell you all the things he's been up to. But other than that, he doubted there was anything more to say.

"Hey Smiles! Charlie was callin' everyone for the countdown. Get your ass in 'ere!" Alastor downed the last bit of whiskey in his glass before reconvening with the rest. There was no need for hypotheticals, he was already busy with the mess of living an afterlife with a merry band of misfits.

Being a memory for someone isn't such a bad thing, not when you were part of the very few that he looked back on fondly.

All he could hope for was you looking back at those days with just as much fondness as he has.

“𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚎, 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛,

𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚎,

𝚠𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚎𝚝,

𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚎.”

╭┉┉┅┄┄┈•◦_•◦❥•◦_

One final gift from me before the new year hits, Auld Lang Syne always makes me cry whenever I hear it being played especially during New Year's Eve. It reminds me a lot of the people I used to be friends with but have since grown apart from. Not really due to any fights or arguments, just drifting apart in general. But they're happy and I'm happy (mostly), if anything I'm thankful that I was a part of their life, as short as it may have been. With that, I wish you all a very prosperous new year.

[gingermintpepper]

Day 2: Hyacinthus

Interpretation notes and trivia below the cut!

Designing Hyacinthus as well as deciding on a personality for him was one of the first big problem I had to solve when the topic of a retelling came up. In most texts, he exists to be loved and then to die and even then, the focus of his death is not his own but rather on Apollo, the one who loses him. General modernised interpretations of him likewise tend to make him agreeable and inoffensive, the sort of character who is likeable and upright but never challenging or ornery. I didn't like any of those options, so I instead decided to build my Hyacinthus from the ground up - for better or for worse. His red hair is his most striking feature, it is his mother's divine hair colour and he is the only one of her children to have inherited it. Similarly, Hyacinthus is the only one of his mother's children to inherit her magic. While some of his siblings were born with a few passive gifts from their mother (Argalus' 'perfect' memory and Polyboea's affinity for mental calculations and projections, for example) Hyacinthus was born with a talent for sealing and warding magic and thusly, much of his life has been shaped by the pursuit of knowledge and his wish to use his talents to better his kingdom. Much of his good-nature and zeal for life and learning is destroyed by the circumstances of his death and entombment. When he is revived, he is angry, lost, devoid of most of his memories and desperate to fill the missing gaps of his soul. He's selfish and snappish, hurt and desperate to hurt others but, most importantly, he is searching. When he is revived, all the world has heard his story but he is not apart of it. They do not remember Hyacinthus, the mage-prince of Amyclae or Hyacinthus, the teacher of men. They do not speak of Hyacinthus, who charmed the gods for their knowledge or Hyacinthus whose beauty was bested only by his wit - they speak of Apollo and his lost love, Apollo and his grief, Hyacinthus, the lover of the Radiant. One can only hope that he will find whatever it is he is looking for on this journey.

Some fun trivia:

Youngest son in a family of seven, his magic was the catalyst for Clio revealing her true identity as a Muse to her children.

Actually prefers to be called 'Hyacinth' but has made peace with people ignoring his wishes and just calling him Hyacinthus out of habit or formality.

Has an intense resting bitch face and struggles with visibly expressing happiness or sadness. This is also a trait he shares with his mother, though his older sister Hegesandre also shares this feature. Cynortas was technically a part of the resting bitch face club but he practiced smiling and looking cheery so much as a child that now has the opposite problem where he can smile through anything, even pain or anger.

Left home when he was 10 to study at the Parnassus Institute for Gifted Children. The Institute specialises in training the children of the Muses, but occasionally it will take in normal people who show great promise. Hector, who becomes quite close to Hyacinth during their tenure together, was one of those people.

Was recognised by Apollo himself at his graduation and was gifted a laurel wreath. Apollo declared him the Shepherd Laureate which made Hyacinth the third Laureate alive at that time - a status shared only by Orpheus, the Poet Laureate and Asclepius, the Doctor Laureate.

Despite his title, is atrocious with animals and genuinely despises both sheep and goats. Has a mild phobia of goats in particular due to a traumatic incident when he was first climbing the mountain where a particular wild goat absolutely terrorised him. Along with following him for days, it would eat anything he left unattended and even bit and headbutted him numerous times when he would try to wrestle his food back from it. He was so bothered by the title in fact, that he asked Apollo if the designation was a joke at his expense. Apollo never denied that it was a joke but he never confirmed it either.

Exceptional hunter but prefers trapping to hunting by dog or arrow. Has never been one for weapons and much rather prefers to fight bare handed if the occasion arises.

Despite his laurel wreath being such a precious object, Hyacinth has never properly worn it. He wore them around his left bicep after obtaining them and when Polyboea contracted phthisis and needed comforting, he gave them to her as an object that would give her strength. Polyboea was buried with his laurels so he never got the chance to wear the wreath on his head.

His favourite colour is a dark oak brown and his favourite hobby is reading. His favourite food is fish roasted by a river and shared with people he loves. He died at 28 on the first day of Karneios.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

One day I’m going to finish that essay or whatever it was in my drafts that’s about the themes of womanhood/relationships/thirtysomething stuff and TTPD but since part of this discussion has been revived on the dash but also it’s Saturday so this won’t ruffle as many feathers, I think one thing that sometimes gets lost in the shuffle in the conversation about the muses and stories in the lyrics is just why the recurring theme of the broken dreams pops up all over the album, and why they permeate the discussion of both muses, if not *all* the muses in the album.

Not to project things on Taylor, but it feels pretty clear to me* that the dreams she’s talking about specifically are about having a family, and that is the through line in the album, and why the successive blows devastated her. (*I don’t want to presume that anyone else feels this way and this is just my interpretation etc.)

The suburban gothic allegory in Fortnight depicting a miserable, lonely marriage. The ring on the ring finger in TTPD making her explode with joy because it was a shorthand for lifelong commitment. “He saw forever so he smashed it up” in My Boy. “I’m pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free” and dying on the sacrificial altar in So Long London. Marrying her wild boy in But Daddy. “Get the matches, toss the ashes off the ledge” in Fresh Out the Slammer (as in, she burned her life down). “You shit-talked me under the table talking rings and talking cradles” in loml. “The deflation of our dreaming leaving me bereft and reeling” in How Did It End. “Promises ocean deep and never to keep” in Peter. The allusion in The Manuscript that the man in question made her think he was in it for the potential of a serious commitment only for her to feel used when he moved on. And there are probably more examples I’m not thinking of off the top of my head here.

But what I’m trying to get at delicately is that from what she’s put down in TTPD, as well as what she’s put down in previous albums (“give you my wild, give you my child,” Paper Rings, Lover, renegade, YLM, etc.) building a life and a family with this person (Joe) was not only something she wanted, but seemingly deliberately planning and working towards. So in the death throes of the relationship, her grief was not just about things like losing someone she once loved, the breakdown of this relationship that was once comforting to her, what she gave up to make their life work, etc. but about this important thing she had dreamed of and what she seemed to feel was on the horizon. What I think I’m trying to say is that it had likely shifted at some point (even just based on the album pipeline) from a hypothetical “one day we’ll have ten kids and teach them how to dream” thing you wonder about with a partner to something that felt a lot more… tangible. (Again trying to be sensitive in my word choice/not project or assume things etc.)

I don’t want to make any accusations or assumptions on main, but I think those kind of life plans feeling within reach not only makes it understandable as to why someone would stay in a relationship whose cracks were turning into fault lines, but on the flip side why giving up on something that felt like it was on their doorstep would be so wholly devastating.

But it’s also why what happened in the two successive relationships *was* so devastating in the songs on the album, and why the Matty thing specifically was so twisted. He’d reentered her life and he’d insinuated himself back into her circle and gained her confidence which in turn led her to confide things in him (the “hostile takeovers” of it all, the whole bridge of The Smallest Man with its honey pot spy mission imagery in which like a mark he sweet talked her into sharing her most vulnerable, compromising “secrets” only to then turn it around to use her and ghost her like a trained operative). And given the way the family thing appears in both presumed storylines, it’s again because Muse #2 used the info gleaned about the life with Muse #1 to sell her a con about an alternate path to what she was mourning so deeply. (And why it’s such an unconscionable act because it’s manipulation, at least going by her own words about her experience of it. It’s as cavalier as the organ donor line in The Manuscript, with the same effect.)

The shittalking about rings and cradles is both of them (if not all of them) because in all cases, they ended up raising her hopes only to not plan on following through. One because he maybe couldn’t commit, one because maybe he was never serious about it. (And the one who did it first who was both 🥴.)

If I had to guess (because I am not Taylor so I will obviously never know any of this for sure besides picking up context clues), the dream was like a carrot dangling in her mind, feeling like this is what the “agony” to quote another one of her songs was for — like, things may be hard, but life is hard, and at least they were building towards *something* she felt they both wanted. And as that dream slipped through her fingers, it created a cascading series of events that crippled her emotionally for a time. So when she mourns that life in her songs, it’s almost like it’s the same dream, just in shifting contexts. The conman selling her dream back to her is comforting at first, but hits doubly hard and leaves her broke when it disappears.

The story throughout the muses on the album isn’t “she jumps to the person who promises her these things,” it’s that it’s a whole life she’s built that crumbles under the weight of reality knocking at the door and a foundation that shifts until it disintegrates. And losing that foundation and the dreams built upon it leaves her searching for answers in the wreckage — and looking elsewhere for clarity for a time. And it’s why it’s so hard to remove one muse from the other (or again, all of them), because that central driving force is used by each of them in different ways to build her up and take her down. And why working through the pain of one situation bleeds into that of another.

It’s hard to delve into this more without crossing boundaries or whatever, but it’s just such a palpable open wound in the album, but also why working through the pain in different contexts on TTPD brings to light all these different kinds of hurt but also the emotions that go along with them.

Anyway. That other essay will write itself at some point idk.

[formerlycookierunauprompts]

I just finished watching King Kong (2005) and this idea hit me like a truck: Shadow Milk Cookie as King Kong and Y/N Cookie as Ann Darrow!

i have never seen king kong but i sorta understand like... the tiniest bit about it.... So uh, Reader's getting kidnapped for this one as that's pretty much the only thing i know from King Kong.

Requested Prompts #44 - 💓

" White Lily Cookie! Don't! It's a trap!" You try to scream out, but no matter what you say nothing can reach White Lily's ears as she was trapped within your captor's maze. You watched as the flurry of the new guardian's magic went towards the fake tree, reviving it almost instantly to the shock of the eerily real-seeming fake Shadow Milk Cookie. You were the only one to have realized that it was fake, so he'd given the group a question that he knew they'd get wrong no matter what. Thus he'd taken you prisoner back in the 'real' world, one that looked a lot like the world within the Maze of Deceit except the key difference was that there was a lot more goopy, abyssal shadows littered with blue eyes staring at everything. You silence yourself with a yelp as one of the beast's fingers press into your head, because yes he does have actual hands apparently. " Ah ah ah!" You heard him tut, " I don't believe that this play needs any input from the audience, does it now?" Shadow Milk hummed, bringing you up to his face so you could look into his calculating gaze. " Besides, they can't hear you anymore anyways, so why even bother?" You hesitate, he was right and you knew it. You almost instantly deflated, your prior determination to escape filtering out of you like air from a balloon with a hole in it. " Aw, you look so cute when you're all hopeless like that! It's almost making me reconsider your position as prisoner!" He cooed, poking at your face with his claw(not the tip of it though). " I doubt that there's anything worse than being a prisoner to you." You groan, leaning away from his touch. A shriek is pulled from your throat as Shadow Milk grabs onto the sliver tree, or at least what remains of it. He spins around it like those character in musicals sometimes do with poles before hoisting himself up to sit between the branches as if they were a throne. " I' wouldn't be too sure about that~!" He teased, holding you up in front of his face. You doubted that, and it showed on your face. " No offense, but I doubt that there is." You said rather un-enthusiastically. " You really think so?" The beast grinned in an almost wild manner, you got the feeling you said something you really shouldn't have. " Because i can think of a lot of things! Of course, I won't be listing all of them for the sake of our family friendly audience. But there are much worse fates than being a prisoner to me!" " Like... like what?" You asked hesitantly. " Hmm..." He leaned in close, eyes shining brightly as he stared down at you. Some kind of deranged hunger slipping into his expression as he did so. " Like being a little snack." You froze up, the pause between that and his next statement being far too long for your liking. " Oh I'm only joking! There's no need to fret, I don't intend to cannibalize you... yet." You squeaked with fear, leaning away as much as you could as he threw his head back into a maniacal laugh. " Oh you're just so gullible- it's adorable!" He mused, a grin that was still far too wide plastered on his face. " I think I might have to keep you, even if Silly-Lily tries to seal me back up in the tree for real!" Well, at least now you know that unless the others save you you're probably screwed. Yippee.

[bored-trans-orchidsexual]

Last Stand Musing

Spoilers FHJY, as of Episode 15 So, I was thinking about the last stand mechanically. I wasn't trying to but I can't help but think 'that's it?' Don't get me wrong, I'm glad it is, especially with the revelation there will be *no* reviving thanks to Kipperlilly. But I can't help but think that, for a *final battle where everyone is meant to die* the bad kids kinda got off easy. First of all, it was strongly implied that they had to fight off endless waves of monsters, and the only way they could be the ones to *beat* the last stand, was to keep killing until there were no monsters left to spawn, I believe it's an artifice augefort that implies this with a wink. But in the actual fight a new wave was incoming, they were *gonna* have to fight more, but the proctor called it off, because they aced the questions. I *understand* the only reason they aced the monsters was because of this exact crew, tactics chosen, and luck. Fabian blowing over half his resorces to kill a Hyrda *before it can act* was clutch, that shuffle cast was clutch, Gorgug time quangling out all the crits he hadn't been getting in the previous seasons was clutch, ect. But learning that, if you answer all the questions the test *stops spawning*, I can't help but wonder how no one, in the history of Augefort, has managed to clear it before now. Then I thought more about it. About how, part of Arther's point, is that students *Accept* the last stand nature of it, not rebel, taing the premise that they must die on the chin and giving it the best fight they can. Does this imply the other students who have previously taken this test just... ignored the test questions? Maybe only half-assed them, with the goal of going out in a big blaze of glory? Seems a bit unlikely, but maybe so. The bad kids are *powerful* but are also Juniors, surely more *Seniors* take this test than not, would not the seniors on average be of similar or even higher power? Why would this all happen, so that they are the *first?* Then I thought about it even more. This is for people who have no other choice, the *desperate*. The flops, the failures, those who are not succeeding by other means. That's when the cruelty of it all really kicked in, and Augefort's words felt even more hostile. This isn't a challenge where the cream of the crop do thier best and top the charts, this is for the *lowest of the low* to try and do thier best, to salvage a win from nothing. So hard, so cruel, and on top of it all Arther regards those who tried it and failed to just not have 'gotten what he was going for.' What a fuckin' asshole. The deck was stacked in the bad kid's favor as *exceptionally* powerful kids, who are failing as a result of shenanigans, not poor performance. This, the hardest exam and the deadliest the school offers, is only thrust at those who are already behind, what a joke.

[narrators-journal]

"Like, if I got a third ask, I could probably swing a happy ending for Hyoga at least. "

Can we give him angst moreinstead? Maybe years later he find a child/children running around and saw a what if? He notices that one( or more) had the eyes of the love he still hasn't let go. Before the kids runs up to him and offered a flower crown, and all he can do is just whisper "You have your mother's eyes."

:(

Woo! This one was a bit of a headache bc I for some reason really struggled to make this painful. Where did my energy go? I tormented Hyoga for two parts now, come on. Despite that tho! (And the fact that forgot a part of your prompt somewhat) This was pretty fun to write, and I think this is where we’ve gotta wrap this little mini series up lmao. Let poor Hyoga rest at last. I hope you enjoy this ending tho!

After the last wedding, Hyoga put a stop to his attendance of those events as a whole.

When his few friends finally got married, he was polite and bought them gifts, he’d congratulate them, and he’d celebrate with them. but he did that stuff after the actual event. After the picnic tables and fairy lights had been packed away. The spearman refused to watch another loved one get married.

Instead, Hyoga poured himself into his workouts, training, and job as a guard to pass the years. Meanwhile, his old love had stayed married to Stan. They were happy, they were in love, and he was...okay with it. He'd grown numb to the sight of his ex and Stan out at the shops, or the sight of his ex dressed for a date. To all the times he’d seen them and their husband with their hands clasped or the way Stan looked at them. To all the quick kisses, or the way Stan’s hand would rest at your hip when he talked to someone at a get-together. He’d grown numbed to it all.

What he wasn’t numbed to was the child who stood before him with those familiar eyes.

She wore the school uniform of a first-grader, her face was already smudged with some ill-gotten candy, but it was her eyes that put a pit in his gut. They were those of his ex's. His ex's beautiful eyes paired with pale blonde hair that at a glance could confuse for Hyoga's snowy hair. The reasonable side of the tall man knew that was because of Stanley Snyder. But, some part of him couldn’t help but imagine if she'd inherited his snowy hair.

“-Mister?” She asked. The simple question able to snap him out of his thoughts before the heartbreak of reality took root. So, Hyoga took a deep breath and hardened himself a bit. “Right. You got lost on a field trip, right?” He asked in a smooth, professional voice that got a small nod and a polite, “Yes sir.” That slammed a sledgehammer into Hyoga’s heart despite his professional demeanor. Right, I’m only a stranger to her. Not her dad. Get your head out of the clouds, Hyoga. He thought to himself while he looked around at where the less tamed forests met the town.

Yet, despite the child who'd found him, there were no other children in sight. No children, no teachers, no school staff at all. For all the pale-haired man knew, the little girl had missed the trip back to the school rather than getting lost. So should I try to take her back to the school? It’s not that long of a walk, and it’s not like Senku’s revived cellphones to call and check yet. I also can’t spend an hour or so looking for a class around town.He mused to try and avoid the heavy sadness that loomed at the edges of his mind. Though, it did little to ease the ache that began to bloom in his chest, even as he kept his focus on his new task.

Will I have to take this child home?He asked as he turned from the child and walked away. The first grader soon his heels. His ex must've taught her to stick with the authority figure in these situations. Which picked at the wound more as he led her through the streets. I could probably take her back to my house and wait for my ex to come collect her? But that’d be creepy and make them hate me more.He continued to think as the child followed him like a shadow. Until, finally, Hyoga was able to hear the tell-tale squeals and giggles of children a bit ahead. The source confirmed when a pair of children ran into view a bit ahead of them. “Are those your classmates?” He asked the little girl behind him with a gesture to the kids. Those familiar eyes like a painful poison to the spearman. An invitation to convince himself that the little girl was his own daughter. That he’d been the one to marry his ex rather than Stanley. But, alas, the reasonable side of himself knew better than to do that. Unless he’d wanted the numbness he’d developed to crumble and the misery to return. “Yes sir!” She chirped, a bright smile on her face as she thanked him and ran ahead. Greeted by one of her teachers almost as soon as they’d heard her call.

And just like that, Hyoga was alone again. No child of his own, no wife. Nothing but the angry ache in his chest and a reminder that the woman he'd loved had moved on and left him in the dust.

[goodolddumbbanana]

TO BE A MIRROR [5]

An Au when Sun is dead (by Nexus), Dark Sun pretends to be Sun while trying to find some way to revive Sun in secret. Nexus's break down, maybe get some redemption. Everyone is not having a good time except Sun, that poor boy only when he is dead (temporarily) can has some rest.

Summary: Immediately after Ruin was recruited, Dark Sun returned to his dimension to clean up Moon's body. This is Dark Sun's POV, so Dark Sun will call himself Sun, because in his heart, he still thinks he is just a Sun.

“…Your boss will see you pretty soon. Say hi to him for me, could you?”

Sun did not stay to watch the show. It wouldn't be wrong to say he had too much work to do, but honestly, he was just so fed up with whatever threats Moo-Nexus would pull for that poor animatronic.

Nexus - That animatronic, from the day he changed his appearance, continuously so desperately trying to prove that he was so different from his ex-version. Sun doesn't need to be a therapist to know where this will go and how much wrong this could go. It would be adorable if it weren't actually so ironic and shameful to watch.

How he dresses. How he acts. And how he is so obbesess with these star power, with the negative star power.

Tall imitated body with lifeless red eyes, a manic creepy voice and an attitude that doesn't care much about others. It made Sun's tongue dry. The feeling of unpleasantness, to be reminded of a familiar face, the cause of so much of the suffering of Sun’s.

Killcode .

Despite the fact that it was Sun's decision to borrow ‘the helping hand’ from someone who had nothing to give, witnessing a Moon walking by, still left a feeling of bitterness in Sun's non-existent stomach.

Hopefully the other Moon will quickly deal with this version of Moon...

Or this Ruin will show Sun something new…

Moon… or Nexus, has become too… ‘creative’ for Dark Sun’s taste.

It would be a huge loss if the Nexus was destroyed at this stage now, but... to be honest, Sun didn't care if that animatronic died.

Of course, these days when Sun has the urge to pull and scrap every string on any Moon he sees have passed, but the hunger and anger that wants to destroy those self-centered ego assholes is still like a smoldering fire that can flare up at any time in Sun's chest.

It can be said these feelings of hatred and anger, are sometimes inconvenient.

—\

Hop in the portal to get in his dimension. His home. The atmosphere was quiet, with the breath of gloomy darkness passing over Sun's shoulder. Only the rattling sound from Dark Sun's bell was like a ray of shock, illuminating the lab at this time.

There's no one there anymore…

In fact, there has been no one left in this place for a long time.

Death took Sun as its messenger, luring Sun a door to freedom.

And honestly, Sun has never regretted accepting that hand.

Heavy patches of dust clung to the railings, condensing like a dirty black mud, dripping with stagnant sounds. Green electric light covers Dark Sun's head like a thin blanket, like a gentle greeting to an expatriate returning to his homeland. The circuit boards blurred the light, the black windings of the electrical tubes steadily ran each volt to the prison, the escape route, the home of Sun and Moon.

Moon's rotten body lay lifeless scattered on the white tile floor, feeling like a mockery.

“Ah, Moon… Ruin really did a number on your body, huh?”

Sun quietly mused. He stepped into the sterile white room and looked at Moon's body, torn apart and broken in the way a child who doesn't know how to play with his toy would do.

Sun doesn't know what to feel, should he be happy that his Moon is dead? Or angry? Anguished? What should a normal person feel when standing next to the body of someone who the term loved and hated is so conflicted to tell?

Sun had killed Moon before, he had killed so many Moons, so many that he couldn't count them all before he fell into the fatigue of a habit that had grown old.

Sun shouldn't have felt anything, but looking at the layer of black oil spreading on the floor, the emptiness had been screaming since the day Sun made the 'decision' to cut off the connection between them, once again vibrating.

There was a tearful calm that slowly spread in his soul, spare with an annoying feeling when he saw his belongings being touched by others.

A cold, bitter taste filled Sun's mouth, like a red shadow falling on the top of his head.

Sun felt heavy, but didn't know where that heaviness came from.

The empty moon-shaped metal face stared back at him, the red light that once flashed with fear and hatred now faded, returning to a lifeless piece of glass.

Stretching out his hand to pick up Moon's face, the thought briefly appeared in Sun's mind, whether he should rebuild his Moon again, before realizing that his hand was shaking slightly.

The gold-plated metal joints, wrapped in bells and red ribbons, seemed to encounter some error that his sensors did not recognize, twitching endlessly.

Moon was dead, and he should have been happy, or relieved, but in this prison that suddenly became too stuffy, he doesn’t know why he didn't feel satisfied with that.

What is wrong?

Moon was no longer Moon since a long time ago, from the day Sun touched the source code behind his brother's head.

His intelligence was completely destroyed, just a broken machine that kept repeating empty pleas, probably because the influence of the personality chip was still intact.

Sun wondered what took him so long to kill Moon.

It's because of the remaining love, one thing makes him feel so nostalgic about the old days, about the wish that how they could have been better?

Or is it simply hatred, a petty revenge for the fact that Moon always wished to have a body of his own; always enjoy making Sun's life hell?

That if hell is Sun's path to go, then at least his brother should be in the first row?

“I don't understand why I can't clean you up like all the other useless trash, Moon. Even though my old program is screaming at me to do it.”

Choosing a comfortable position to sit down, Sun leaned his back against the wall. Black oil and soot clung to his pants, and the air had an unpleasant smell of moldy motor oil dust.

It felt like the old days came back, about these days of struggling in the bunker, about how instead of motor oil clinging to his hands now, there was the blood of innocent lives.

“It's pointless to talk to you, because animatronics don't have souls, so I can't say you are haunting me.”

If Sun believed in ghosts more, or Sun's hallucinations hated him more, perhaps the person who was silently looking at him in the reflective surface at this time would scream and curse at him, trying to make him feel guilt and pain. But no… they never did that.

Just looks, these red, yellow, brown eyes, staring at him with silence... Of breathing and the feeling of someone standing behind Sun’s back. It was almost comforting, a feeling of someone's companionship, of ghostly guilt rippling waves in Sun's parched heart, before being forced into the eternal void of non-existence.

“Is that the sentimentality of the elderly, Moon?”‌ Sun chuckled, stroking tenderly the sharp edges of the face plate. “Or in this case, animatronic?”

There was only the gentle sound of metal colliding in a space that had never been able to fully breathe for Sun.

Sighing softly, Sun stood up. Moon's face was still held in his palm before it fell coldly to the ground, making a harsh noise.

It shouldn't have startled Sun, but when looking at the rubble called the corpse of someone not worthy of love, Sun's body twitched again.

In the blink of an eye, it was as if he could hear Moon's angry scream, and his sobbing apology from the past.

Maybe he should come another day to clean up, it's not like Ruin could find anything in these broken things anyways...

Opening the teleportation gate, Sun walked through. But instead of Sun's gloomy tower, there was a warm room with another yellow animatronic sitting and playing games.

Another version of him, a Sun, was so startled that they stiffened when looking at him. That yellow animatronic body almost screamed reflexively, before holding back and relaxing forcibly.

Silver eyes contrasted with Sun's red pupils, looking at him alert.

"You…"

“Ah… Me.” Sun smiled lifelessly. He doesn't know why he could have made such a mistake like misplacing the direction, but the feeling of not breathing clearly in Sun's chest suddenly stopped, causing the steps he was about to disappear to suddenly become hesitant. 

The other person sat nervously on the sofa, the loud noise made the cat in their lap jump out.

“Why are you here?!”

The voice was still mixed with a bit of stammering and worry, but mostly it was fatigue, the feeling of exhaustion deep in their bones that Sun himself was all too familiar with, something that always existed there every time he woke up.

“And what happened to your clothes?! You look like you just fell into a garbage pit and fought a bear but lost!"

“Oh nothing much, Sun. Kill a guy, destroy a dimension. Whatever you want me to say.” Sun shrugged, he leaned down on the couch, letting the greasy layer of oil seep into the expensive lotus fabric bought with Moon's money.

“Eh—” An awkward atmosphere surrounded the other person. Their hands were constantly intertwined, half awkwardly as if wanting to stand up and call their Moon, half indifferently placed in the void.

It feels like the other version of Sun had something to say but didn't. And the movement kept repeating as if stuck in a loop, until the 5th time when that bell rang in Sun's ear, it started to make Sun open his mouth.

“Do you have anything you want to say?”

That nervous anxiety had rarely bothered Sun so severely these days since he had killed most of his universe's enemies. But it seems that for the other person, it is still a burden.

“Er–Ah— There's something strange about you today…”

“How so?”

Sun raised his eyebrows in confusion, his hand raised, vaguely stained in oil and soot. He feels fine, nothing wrong. 

Actually, he feels better than ever. 

The concern looks slowly crawling in their other eyes. It makes Sun want to get out, it feels like some of his heart was exposed. A funny thought suddenly came from nowhere, causing him to approach the other person in a suspicious way.

“Hey, Sun~~~”

“W–What?! Wait— What’re you want to do!!?”

The other person looked so scared that he backed away unconsciously. Sun almost felt guilty for making his other self look so tense, before realizing ah, he wasn't actually giving a flying fuck.

Pop!

Sun's dirty, slimy hands pressed and applied forcefully to his clean version's shoulder. The other person's face was blank for a moment before hardening into an expression of disgust mixed with indignation, when they themselves realized something sticky was running down their shoulder.

“Uh!!!!! Wh–Why did you do that??!!”

Because it's fun? Because you deserve it? Because you dare to show concern for me when in fact you can't even take care of yourself? Because even though your Moon is still alive and kicking, I don’t hate the rest of your family this much?

Because in reality I'm jealous of the closeness you have and I'm also desperate to get some warmth from someone else?

There were many answers that Sun couldn't give, so he just stood up suddenly, opened a gate and jumped in, leaving behind confused curses from another him.

“What just happened???”

[crispycreambacon]

It's "musing and going crazy over Puppet History" hours, let's get it

Y'know what Bat Nonnie's ask to me (thank you Bat Nonnie :3) finally got me to release this thought I've been keeping in the drafts for a while. Dr. Sprat, the Genie and everyone else interested in the eradication of the puppets claim that their continued existence will mess up space, time and the whole universe. However, there is a whole mess of problems with that premise.

First of all, aren't God and Death also puppets? Do they not count under the puppets who will supposedly mess up the fabric of the universe? If so, why are they spared from Purgatory? And what would happen if Dr. Sprat and Elmer tried to eradicate them? I feel like removing literally God and Death will mess up the universe more than these puppets!!!

Moreover, don't Dr. Sprat and Elmer count as those puppets? Do they plan on sacrificing themselves to Purgatory for this nebulous cause? Likely not. This is why I don't buy into the idea and believe they are using it as an excuse to carry out a scheme they're hiding from everyone else—my current idea being that Dr. Sprat as the reincarnation of Pythagoras is trying to revive the Pythagoreanism cult with Elmer Walter Williams as the first member of the new age (though lowkey Bat Nonnie's theory is really interesting, and I recommend looking over it)

This is why I also believe the Professor is getting the axe and likely Ryan too (taking this opportunity to redirect you to finalgirlbergara's theories which also propose that the Professor is getting the axe) They'll use this premise and use it against the Professor who is not only a puppet but also the entire cause of this mess in the first place to send him to Purgatory. And because Ryan will obviously object to that and is no longer easily persuaded to take the Phorgedytol, they will likely take him down with the Professor whether it'd be sending him to Purgatory with the Professor or just straight up finishing the Substitute's job.

In conclusion: Y'all????????

[sburbian-mechanics]

Woahh. Never knew I’d find a blog so incredibly relevant to my current situationn! Our Heir of Rage player is kind of going nutss, and we have absolutely NO clue what to doo. Is there any mechanic we can use to stop her peacefullyy? Or a specific power evenn? I’m really in no mood to deal with her anticss.

Yo! First ask! Looks like the guides up and working.

Anyways, luckily for you, I have some expertise in this situation. The number one most important thing to establish is simple; Corrupted or Crazy?

Corrupted tends to be a bit more obvious, but not always. If they're talking gibberish or have shadows bursting out of them, they're Grimdark. If their eyes are pure white and are hard to look at, they're Lightblind. Those are the most common Corruption types, but there are others. A good tell is if their appearance has changed, and they're acting really strange, they are Corrupted. talk to KW or DE on Derse/Prospit to do a soul scan, which tells you if they're Corrupted, and in what way. They can also tell you if they're being controlled by another player, in that case just knock 'em out to free your Heir. Corruption can also usually be knocked out of them, or dispeled with some powerful magic. In tough cases, you might have to kill them, so just make sure you have some method of revival on hand.

If they are just Crazy, it's best to deal with 'em with player powers, cuz they won't reset on death or unconciousness. Pretty much any Sylph or Muse has something in their toolset to help, no matter the Aspect. Witches are also great if you are willing to mess with their mental state directly, but you may have some "moral hangups" about that. Quick tip: if it's an emergency just use the Witch. You'll save more people, and moral purity isn't worth getting people hurt.

If they have a good aspect combo, Rouges and Mages can help reonirent or dispel the aggression. Bards are pretty effective in a support role, (no matter the stupid stereotypes,) and can destroy the mental state without physical harm. Way better than Princes, but they are ~technically~ an option. Maids could be a nuke button in emergencies, but are better in a defensive role and not known for their lack of collateral damage. Pages are even worse in that case, and unrealiable to boot, but can be a miracle in an otherwise hopeless situation. Thieves could technically help, and there would be no collateral, but at that point you're probally better off killing the player. Honestly, you're better off killing them the moment Princes become an option.

As always, Heart, Mind, and Blood are the best Aspect combos for player cooperation, including when one of the players goes Crazy. Hope or Rage could help given the Heirs aspect, and all the others should only really be considered if they are a Sylph, Muse, or Witch.

----------<I>----------

Good luck with the Heir! If they do turn out Corrupted, you could ask for a more specific guide. Otherwise, you are going to have to get creative. Remember that if they go Crazy, that is their choice. Their intent and their desicion. You could try as hard as you can, but there is no guarantee you can fix them. No matter your memories, sometimes you're going to have to let them go, and kill them for the safety of everyone else. I hope that when it comes down to it, you will know what to do. Good luck.

[prpfz]

❄️

Hey there. I'm 23 and looking for 21+ Hazbin Hotel roleplayers on Discord to revive my Vox muse. 

I'm open to any Vox ships but I'm mainly looking for radiostatic, staticapple, applemedia, and staticmoth. I usually write 4-6 paragraphs per message and I don't mind someone not matching length. 

I'm an AU lover so I prefer those plots instead of canon compliant ones. 

I'm fully open to most dark or taboo themes and would prefer for the roleplay to have them.  I'll go over any triggers or limits in DMs.

I'm working part-time so I can be a little busy, but I try to get a reply out at least once a week.

Please like this post or contact me on Discord if you're interested.  My tag is rorybear76.

rorybear76

[shiningstages]

SHIPPING INFO. answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

have a diantha icon edited by the lovely serin a million years ago diantha you'll be revived properly one day i swear to christ -

what’s your OTP for your muse(s)?

me cracking my knuckles as i look over my whole muse list + diantha.

diantha is easiest because its just captain/diantha and clarisse/diantha (this ship can work flipflopped too but like someone see the vision please understand LOOK AT THOSE GIRLS!!!!!!!)

ratio and screwllum next easiest b/c those two have not left my mind since they were introduced at their respective times and they should hold hands (ofc i like aventio too, but screwtio is my ride or die and also don't sleep on screwtioturine think about it pls i beg). i actually ship both of them very leniently (if that makes sense?), because i'm a multishipper and i love people holding hands, but these are very much the otps (special shoutout to argentio and screwllum/herta and screwllum/gepard though; those are also cute and the last one is the latest collected bestie rarepair and we thrive on it)

looking at my other muses...LanVane, nods nods. BeaZeta, BronSeele (hi3rd and hsr; though multishipping seele in both contexts is also really fun, and in hsr seele/silver wolf angst or hsr seele/gepard and hsr seele with any of the main express friend trio...nods nods). March 7th you can ship any person under the sun in hsr with her, but my favs are caelus or stelle, dan heng, and robin. stelle gets protag rights, but ofc exploring my fav men through her would be fun. yu takasaki with anyone in the club because also protag/past self insert origins rights, but setsuna, ayumu, and shizuku hold special places. kotohonoumi with kotonozo and kotori/minato (p3) honorable mentions. eiden/blade will always be my fav in nu carnival, but shoutout to edmond and yakumo as well. i do like tsukasa/wxs it's true (yes all of them each dynamic is cute), but i think tsukasa/shizuku or tsukasa/haruka has legs to stand on as well (hard working people with personality differences but very determined when striving towards their goals; shizuku has the added benefit of older sibling talks). though i also ship haruka/minori, and minori/kohane. nice nature/tokai teio is a classic to me.

me trying to think otp-wise for other muses...shrugs~

what are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

i love a good domestic fluff, or writing about a couple just being affectionate or just going through slice of life together. also very much into writing out the scenes of my muses in love and flustered but not really knowing what to do in situations when they haven't quite confessed yet. drama is also yummy; love a kind of hurt/comfort working through issues or things that come up type thing too (and the varying degrees of success or failure in that department). since i've started writing more Stuff too, i'd be willing to write out...just a tiny bit of teehee~

how large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

me staring at screwllum, the oldest man alive...he's an exception because he's ancient.

for muses that are teens in canon (and in verses where they're teens, as in versus them in other verses as adults and stuff) it has to be pretty close in ages. but once we're past like 22 i'd say the world is our oyster.

are you selective when shipping?

not really, though on here i guess i don't seek it out as often because i'm not on here as often anymore! i'm a big fan of chemistry and usually only rping with friends anyways though, so we have to be cool with each other and think our lil dolls mesh well together before we can go and pursue more in a shipping on here sense.

how far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?

i haven't written any of the teehee on here yet, but i'd say when it get's steamy is like...more than kissing. when you're describing grinding and kisses going places that are obviously to get a rise out of the other muse, or when clothes are being touched or played with or tightening in ways...then the nsfw tag and the read more are implemented. if it's just kisses though, they get steamy but not too much so.

does one have to ask to ship with you?

yes absolutely!! i love communication, and if you think our muses mesh well together like that, please reach out about that and don't just assume~ though also i only really rp with friends so i only talk about it really with friends i've talked about it with numerous times before (waves at wars and serin and j even though you're not really here anymore). but still reach out if we ever rp for a bit and you have ideas~

how often do you like to ship?

:))))))) i can become a lil fiend devil if you wanna

aventio and screwtio have made me particularily feel some sort of way that makes me go even more insane than my love live shipping days, and that says a lot.

in terms of actual writing shipping, i feel like i think about it constantly but also not at all fghfgjhfgjhf discord servers have been my breeding ground for rarepairs and more talks though (surprise it's just two mainly hsr servers wow can you tell i like this game and the friends that invited me to these servers omg hi toria and rei and jules if you somehow find this)

are you multiship?

(points to literally every other answer) oh yes. yesyesyesyesyes.

are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

hmmmmmmmmmm i think both. on one hand in general ships can just consume me, but on the other hand i like varied levels of writing (though also platonic shipping too let's not forget her...i love her too.)

what is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

screwtio / screwtioturine. aventio and ratioturine (i'm putting both because ppl can be really picky about name stuffs) are also very good yummy stuffs, but mushing my two men together and then adding aventurine into the mix.............yeah it's good stuff

finally, how does one ship with you?

(points to many points in this post) write with me, be niceies to me, and if you have ideas after we've gotten to know each other for a bit lemme know~

tagged by: @toestalucia warsssssssss thank you for unlocking my third eye and enabling me i love my bestie so much everyone aaaaaa tagging: teehee lmao~ @nokrysalis for crystal but also any of your other ocs or any canon muses you wanna yap about!!!!!!!!!

[archer-kacey]

Joey Drew is Gay and there's no way around it (Pt 1)

I want to immediately preface this by saying I never want to assume that a character is gay, straight, bi, etc. Usually the creator will confirm this type of thing, or it will end up being confirmed or implied later down the line. Joey, however, has something unique in comparison to the rest of the cast- we have his autobiography. This paired with information found in the games themselves and additional novels already give us a pretty big library of information to draw from. We have most of his life story given to us on a silver platter, and in my opinion, the non-heteronormativity speaks for itself.

Let's start with Dark Revival, because it's an easy starting point to offshoot from.

Memory Joey tells Audrey this: for Joey Drew, a family was something he always wanted, but could never have. For most people, this probably translates as Joey being too absorbed in his work, himself, and the studio to raise a family. While Joey did have a big ego and undoubtedly had his hands full, I struggle to believe that this would prevent him outright from even trying.

First off, if Joey's end goal was "a family," then there are a million questions that immediately come up. What kind of "family" was Joey striving for? Dark Revival seems to at least confirm that he wanted a child of his own, and to be fair, solely having Audrey seemed to complete him.

When Joey was alive, there were some pretty easy ways to accomplish having a family. One would be the heterosexual route, marrying a woman and having a child, and arguably this would be the easiest. He could have also adopted, especially if he was Ace, or if there was a possibility he was just an infertile man.

Here's the thing, though- he didn't do either of those.

Now, I fully understand that if Joey were a mouse stuck in a maze, he would take the longest possible route to get to the cheese. He's a bit stubborn and childish, and developed his god complex faster than a Polaroid camera photo. BUT, his two brain cells kick in whenever there's something he truly wants.

Joey doesn't operate on brute force. He outsources absolutely everything. He'll wrap up an entire web of people into doing his dirty work, but he himself wants to take the path of least resistance. So, when dealing with a personal matter that can be very easily tended to...why the hell ignore the entire thing? Having a kid would have worked pretty smoothly with his self-interests.

The way Joey goes about actually "having" kids is very strange. Firstly, there's Bendy, born via Ink Machine. Secondly, there's Audrey, also born via Ink Machine.

Hey Joey, quick question...why are all your kids birthed via giant metal box?

Oh, I'm not kidding about Bendy being Joey's child, either.

In Illusion of Living, Joey states that he views Bendy as his son, and this is specified to not be a hyperbolic statement. Nathan also volunteers the information that Joey felt the same way about Bendy as he did about his own son (Nathan Jr.) Joey also describes Bendy as his muse and his messenger. Joey's philosophy, The Illusion of Living, is the belief that fiction and reality are the same thing, which feeds into a heavy insistence that Bendy is real, and he scoffs at the idea that people would dare think he isn't.

Illusion of Living was released in 1942. So, starting in at least 1942 (though I suspect earlier,) Joey was very protective of the image of this character, and convinced himself that this creation was his own son.

In short, he was already attempting to fill a childless void with a fictional substitute.

However, the sad fact is that Bendy was ultimately a filler child that still couldn't satisfy him. But when Audrey came into being, that was it. Joey wanted a human child, and Audrey was the closest thing to that, hence why she was his last attempt. So he settled down and raised her until his passing.

But we’re not done talking about Bendy yet. Joey's intense connection to Bendy has far-reaching implications.

PART 2>>

[offscriptx]

application : [ oscar isaac | cis-male | he/his ] a new face takes refuge under dark skies . ATTICUS SHANE , an 44 year old HUMAN , is one of those from the PAST learning to navigate this changed world . People say behind their back that they’re MANIPULATIVE but the truth is that they’re really CHARMING . Their style can best be described as CAVES OF WONDERS , WATCH THE WORLD BURN FOR YOU , GRADED PAPERS AND SEMINARS and we’ll see how that helps them fit in .

aesthetic : the writings on the wall . the caves of wonders . let me lecture the class . watch the world burn for you . a noble sacrifice . graded papers , chalkboard and seminars . drowning in hidden truth . more useful alive then dead . the broken compass . tormented soul . let me teach you expression . ritual or massacre . better then the hope diamond . living between grief and madness . not looking for your sympathy .

general

name : atticus shane .

alias : professor shane .

gender : cis-male .

age : 44 .

birthplace : guatemala .

languages : english , spanish .

sexual preference : heterosexual .

occupation :  professor of the occult at  new orleans college .

appearance :

height : 5'10 .

hair :  thick curly salt and pepper hair .

eyes : dark brown .

ethnicity : guatemalan , cuban , french .

physical : 44 .

body : middle built .

bio : this character is canon .

synopsis : atticus shane had a wife ,  caitlin , who was a witch . they had a son named sam . when sam died in a tragic accident , a grief stricken caitlin who used  expression  magic to try to revive him but instead it backfired and killed her . this left shane alone and desperate wants to find a way to reclaim his dead family at any cost . however , before he could travel to the island near nova scotia , one the world's most obscure , desolate island , he was pulled into an alternate reality .  

plots :

i. he caused an unsettling amount of massacres in your muses past ( a future that has not yet experience ) and , your muse hold him accountable . he teaches your muse expression magic . ii. he can be your muse friend , and/or father figure . iii. he and your muse can bond over the lost of a love one . iv . he can be your muse professor at your muses college where he teach occult studies . v. he helps your muse find out that they are a potential hunter from the brotherhood .