DEUSXMACHIIINA

Selective Indie Multi-Muse blog. See RULES before interacting.

[deusxmachiiina]

BLOG OVERHAUL - WIP

List of things still  needed to do while I overhaul the blog into a multimuse. I’ll pin this mostly so people can see characters available while I work on this, as I am gonna be HELLA slow getting this going, but I don’t want that to limit my ability to interact with all y’all.

You are more than welcome to still interact with this blog while I get things done. Current rules still apply.

TO DO

MUSE PAGE WITH AVAILABLE MUSES

Donatello - TMNT - (2K3/IDW inspired) Leonardo - TMNT - (2K3/IDW inspired) April O’Neil - Rise of the TMNT Sans - Undertale/Deltarune Reagan Ridley - Inside Job Bruno Madrigal - Encanto

Update Rules

Update blog theme

General tags/Muse specific tags

Graphics/Iconing

[deusxmachiiina]

.

[archaeologian-blog]

send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on

I might write anything from a paragraph to a whopping essay, but send me something you’ve noticed about my characterisation or just something you want to know about my muse and I will write what I can!

[sonxflight-a2]

"I am the Sand Guardian, Guardian of the Sand!" [Bruno]

✧ High Quality Meme Starters ║ @deusxmachiiina ✧

"The future quivers before him!"

[deusxmachiiina]

“Yes, it QUIVERS! BEHOLD, YOUR- Ai- hijo de puente!’ The Sand Guardian, Guardian of the Sand, just upended his sand all over his head. 

It is a strong, independant bucket of sand with no need for a guardian.

[roxyrpprompts]

-; QUESTIONING PROMPTS

prompts that contain questions to set a scene! how else do i describe this

- “ Do you still see me that way? ”

- “ Figure it out. Who’s the machine here? ”

- “ Why do you keep looking at me like that? ”

- “ Is this meant to be? ”

- “ Are you challenging me? ”

- “ Bold words! But can you live to it? ”

- “ We were supposed to save the people. So why? ”

- “ Come on. Why are you so quiet today? ”

- “ I just don’t get it. What did I do wrong? ”

- “ Breathe. Now what did they do to you? ”

- “ You’ve changed—what happened to you? ”

- “ Where did we go wrong? ”

- “ We lost it all. For what? ”

- “ Why are you here? ”

- “ Please…I just want to know…why did you do it? ”

- “ What’s wrong with you? ”

- “ Why couldn’t you be more like (A)? ”

[deusxmachiiina]

.

[deusxmachiiina]

(for Donatello) “is letting someone win in chess sapiosexual bottoming?”

“What kind of chess games do you usually play??”

[brittsmemes]

INCORRECT  QUOTES  GENERATOR  STARTERS. 

“i  am  going  to  defeat  you  with  the  power  of  friendship!” 

“goodnight  moon,  goodnight  tree.  goodnight  ghosts  only  i  can  see.”

“you  think  i  really  give  a  fuck?  i  can’t  even  read!” 

“you  wanna  see  how  hardcore  i  am?”   *punches  wall*  “…  take  me  to  the  hospital?” 

“if  you  can’t  beat  them,  dress  better  than  them.” 

“i’ve  come  to  a  point  in  my  life  where  i  need  a  stronger  word  than  fuck.” 

“i  identify  as  a  fucking  threat.” 

“so  apparently  the  ‘bad  vibes’  i’ve  been  feeling  are  actually  severe  psychological  distress.” 

“i  was  born  for  politics.  i  have  great  hair  and  i  love  lying.” 

“all  these  ghosts  and  i  still  can’t  find  a  boo. “

“fool  me  once,  i’m  gonna  kill  you.” 

“with  great  power  comes  a  great  need  to  take  a  nap.  wake  me  up  later.” 

“ha!  nice  try,  jackass.  next  time  give  it  your  a  game.” 

“you  seem  familar.  have  i  threatened  you  before?”  

“you’ll  have  a  hard  time  believing  this  because  it  never  happens.  but  i  made  a  mistake.” 

“some  of  you  may  die.  but  that’s  a  sacrifice  i’m  willing  to  make.” 

“you  can  de-escalate  any  situation  by  saying  ‘are  we  about  to  kiss?’” 

“oh  no…  (muse  name)  in  b -  flat.  you’re  disappointed.” 

“my  face  is  on  fire!” 

“i  became  more  evil  if  you’re  curious.” 

“i  slept  for  almost  twelve  hours.  but  i  might  still  be  tired.  let’s  go  for  twelve  more  just  incase.” 

“are  you  okay  with  constructive  criticism?  i  don’t  want  to  sound  mean.” 

“violence  isn’t  the  answer.  violence  is  the  question.  the  answer  is  yes.” 

“three  words,  say  them  and  i’m  yours.” 

“i  have  a  black  belt.  not  in  karate.  it’s  gucci.” 

“in  light  of  what  you  did  for  me,  you  can  hug  me  for  four  to  five  seconds.” 

“why  did  you  draw  a  pentagram  on  the  floor?” 

“i’m  ten  times  funnier  and  sexier  than  you.” 

“you  have  to  acceot  that  swear  words  are  necessary  sometimes.” 

“it’s  dark  in  here.” 

“i  prevented  a  murder  today,  using  the  power  of  self  control.” 

“is  letting  someone  win  in  chess  sapiosexual  bottoming?” 

“don’t  worry,  i  have  a  few  knives  up  my  sleeve.” 

“good  morning.  what  the  fuck  is  wrong  with  you?” 

[orenjininja]

deusxmachiiina​:

It was the third time in as many minutes that Don thought he was going to die. Mikey had him pinned against the wall in the same muddled heap he’d landed in, looming above in the black and red foot insignia that still felt so, so wrong to look at.

It was all wrong to look at. Mikey was wrong to look at. Don struggled to take an even breath against the knee digging into his plastron, dimly wondering when his little brother (His sweet, goofy, ever-smiling, kicks-your-ass-during-sparring-but-gently, little brother) had gotten so strong.  “Please, Mikey-” “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!”  The cold sheen of the tanto sent his thoughts scattering. He held his breath, unable to pick where to focus as his eyes darted between the naked rage contorting his brother’s face, and the cutting finality of the blade. He kept waiting for there to be a moment where the old Mikey would shine through, because Mikey wouldn’t go through with it. The person looking down at him with such hatred couldn’t be the same brother who filled the silence of his lab with inane ideas, and handed him tools between comfortable conversations. This was Mikey, this was Mikey and he couldn’t, he would’t, it would destroy his little brother and Don couldn’t bear to think of what the HELL Shredder did to have turned Michelangelo so far in on himself that he couldn’t even recognize his family. Against every one of Sensei’s lessons, Donatello shut his eyes. If he was going to die, he refused to go looking at his brother like this. “Then at least let me tell you I’m sorry.” Every second he didn’t feel the tanto was another second he threw into desperately trying to undo the last three weeks. “Idon’t…you must have been so alone. I’m sorry.” 

There was something like pain carved into his enemy’s face, fresh like the blood dripping from the many cuts along their bodies, but this pain wasn’t physical. It was something deeper than that, something that cut far deeper and far harder than any cut or broken bone. Was he scared? Afraid of death?

Pathetic, the thought came quick and raw, but it wasn’t enough to smother the shards of pain floating around his head. Not even all the hatred he could muster for Hamato Yoshi was enough for that—not when he was fighting one of these fakes. Not when he was staring them in the eyes and they were always, always pleading with him and he didn’t understand why.

Michelangelo continued to tremble, his blade wavering without purpose. Every time he urged his arm to strike forward it refused and that made his head hurt all the more.

Why why why?

‘Donatello’ had closed his eyes and was mumbling at him. No movement, no attempt at struggle – just words. It should have infuriated him, but for some reason every word latched onto him like a hook. 

“ — you must have been so alone. I’m sorry.”

Something sharp coiled around his stomach. Michelangelo’s chest ached and crunched and he wanted so bad to laugh because OF COURSE he was alone. His brothers were dead and he was fighting the ghosts of something he could no longer get back. But this was his life. This is what Yoshi had done to him and he had accepted that.

So—So why were tears rolling down his cheek instead?

“Stop it,” Michelangelo croaked through heavy, unsteady breaths, fumbling to get a firmer grip on his tanto. The blade continued to waver and his fingers felt like lead pipes against the handle. “Just stop it. You—You don’t know the first thing about me!”

[deusxmachiiina]

The blade against his throat didn’t end him. 

It had been stupid coming alone. 

"I know you don't believe me." Don said, voice cracking. This version of his brother had so far given him no leeway, no matter how hard he'd tried to make Mikey remember-

Because who COULD forget the time Mikey broke his arm when they were eight? It had been the first time Don ever had to put a cast on a member of his family, and he overcompensated by wrapping Mikey up from shoulder to fingers. He had to make the plaster from some kitchen flour, water and torn strips from an old bedsheet. In his defence, he had panicked.

Mikey's favourite pizza toppings where cataloged in his mental encyclopedia. He didn't know how Mikey convinced him to shell out 30$ on a jalapeno, pineapple, banana slice and anchovy pizza; only that it was well worth the entertainment of getting that phone call back from Antonio's very Italian and very IRATE chef cussing them out for the Culinary Declaration of War.

Talking had only gotten his shell HANDED to him. He knew Mikey couldn't appreciate the irony, not when he was literally brainwashed.

Twelve whole seconds passed and Donatello still wasn't dead. 

"I give up." He put his hands in view, wincing as his left arm gave way. "You've disarmed me and I'm down. So you win. You can take my weapon." He waited. There was only one way to know. An experiment of sorts.

“Besides, if you kill me now, then how can you ever judge for yourself if I’m telling the truth or not?”

[notmorbid]

the book of form and emptiness, pt. 2.

dialogue prompts from the book of form and emptiness by ruth ozeki.

shouldn’t we be quiet?

anything is possible when you’re young.

i didn’t know who you were or what you were, i just knew you were mine.

if you have something to say, please just say it.

you don’t have to tell me or anything.

i’m really mad at you, you know that?

i need you to tell me sorry. i need to hear it.

maybe we should make up a different ending.

i remember what it felt like, when everything was beautiful.

i just don’t want to see you get hurt.

stay chill and remember to breathe.

sometimes i just need to disappear.

is there a good way to be sad?

you are who you are. don’t let anybody tell you that’s a problem.

i’d never thought of you as someone with parents.

it was dark. i got lost.

i woke up and you weren’t there, so i went looking.

you have an inner robot? all i have are inner demons.

were you just fucking with me?

you’re being super weird, and i need you to stop.

i love you, just not like that. okay?

everybody has a book inside them.

if you think your book will help a few people, you should write it.

you thought i couldn’t do it, but i did.

i don’t have much of a social network these days.

can’t you just try to believe me?

it’s late. go back to sleep.

you are a miracle.

call me back, okay? i can’t sleep.

how much of it do you remember?

you can’t do this alone. it’s too much.

there’s no time for tears now. you’ve gotta be proactive.

i know trauma when i see it.

i don’t really do love.

i’m going away. you probably won’t see me for a while.

i have my own story.

i have to get better, and so do you.

blame is just a way of refusing to take responsibility.

i thought you were dead. what happened?

[deusxmachiiina]

VIBE CHECK

Reagan considers the results and then raises her beer.

“Stupid, useless and accurate. I’ll allow it.”

[deusxmachiiina]

BRUNONOVELLA - Descache Doubles SEASON1 - EP 12

“Jairo, Mi Amor,” 

The scene was set, a starry night upon a balcony, with the two rats lovers clasping hands. The rat playing Jairo sniffed at his co-star, Constanza (Today staring in the role of Estela Carrillo). Estela turned away in guilt. She could not go on any longer with her lie. “Jairo, I have DECIEVED YOU, I am not Estela Carillo. I have been pretending to be her, because I love you Jairo,” Alfonso, ever his most expressive actor, reared up and sQUEEKED. “Estela, NO- If you are not Estela, then who are you!”                                                   “My true name is Danitza Hernández. Mi Amor, I saw the beautiful letters you wrote to Estela. I read them as if they were for me. I know! It was wrong of me. But Mi Vida, the way you shaped your words. I knew- Oh, hey now- Constanza!” 

Constanza had tired of her sililoquy, pulling free of the minuature stage to go find something better to do. “Constanza, we still have the third act!”  The dramatic finale of Desaches Doubles, comes soon to a magical home near you.

[deusxmachiiina]

VIBE CHECK 

“....Nope”

[deusxmachiiina]

CONTINUED - @orenjininja

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” Breath haggard, Mikey glared down at his prey with fire in his eyes. This – this thing had nothing to do with him. Nothing. He was fake. Just a trick.

This wasn’t his brother.

So why did his head hurt whenever it spoke to him? Like glass shattering in his brain?

Wrinkling his snout, Mikey flicked the blade in his hand forward until it teased the air in front of Donatello’s neck. He had him caught against the wall and this was his chance to end it. He – He could make it stop. Just another push.

“Stop saying that crap! Stop trying to mess with my head!”Yet still, he hesitated, the blade rattling unsteadily in his hand. Why wasn’t his body listening to him?

It was the third time in as many minutes that Don thought he was going to die. Mikey had him pinned against the wall in the same muddled heap he’d landed in, looming above in the black and red foot insignia that still felt so, so wrong to look at.

It was all wrong to look at. Mikey was wrong to look at. Don struggled to take an even breath against the knee digging into his plastron, dimly wondering when his little brother (His sweet, goofy, ever-smiling, kicks-your-ass-during-sparring-but-gently, little brother) had gotten so strong.  “Please, Mikey-” “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!”  The cold sheen of the tanto sent his thoughts scattering. He held his breath, unable to pick where to focus as his eyes darted between the naked rage contorting his brother’s face, and the cutting finality of the blade. He kept waiting for there to be a moment where the old Mikey would shine through, because Mikey wouldn’t go through with it. The person looking down at him with such hatred couldn’t be the same brother who filled the silence of his lab with inane ideas, and handed him tools between comfortable conversations. This was Mikey, this was Mikey and he couldn’t, he would’t, it would destroy his little brother and Don couldn’t bear to think of what the HELL Shredder did to have turned Michelangelo so far in on himself that he couldn’t even recognize his family. Against every one of Sensei’s lessons, Donatello shut his eyes. If he was going to die, he refused to go looking at his brother like this. “Then at least let me tell you I’m sorry.” Every second he didn’t feel the tanto was another second he threw into desperately trying to undo the last three weeks. “Idon’t...you must have been so alone. I’m sorry.” 

[lxkexbxss]

@deusxmachiiina​​ continued { ☯ }

It definitely seemed the two teens had let their imaginations get the better of them in the old spooky church. Not that Raph couldn’t understand, even if he didn’t find it all THAT creepy or scary for the most part. Least not as much as most others probably would. 

Than again, given what they tended to experience in day to day life, a old creepy church didn’t even compare to most of it. If anything it definitely felt more ‘normal’ than anything else.

“Well, on the positive note, least they won’t be much trouble for us.”

Was the sighed out response. Least they hadn’t hurt themselves too badly in their ensuing panic, for the most part at least. Giving the teens another quick once over just to be safe before turning his attention to the other turtle. A small but playful smirk playing on his lips.

“...so, same idea we had than?”

Or least they thought, his eyes catching the same marking as Donatello and the smile instantly dropped. Okay, now it was rightfully a bit more scary.

“THAT is just great.”

“...maybe we lucked out n’ the numbskulls didn’t actually manage to summon one?”

[deusxmachiiina]

“I ‘ear ya there…liked it better when the only oddity in the world was us.”

Long gone were those days of course when the only usual thing they thought existed was them. Oh, how sometimes he did miss that. Now, there was something new and unusual being discovered almost daily, making them almost seem normal by comparison. Almost at least. Not that any of it wasn’t fun sometimes, but it could be a little overwhelming at times too.

The large terrapin gave a final glance at the red circles in question, eyeing them with some small suspicion. It didn’t seem there was anything around, other than themselves, at present but you could never be too careful in his opinion. Keeping his guard up just encase something was lurking that they couldn’t sense. Better to be safe than sorry after all. After all, he wasn’t about to let anything hurt his brother, not while he was around.

“Wish ya luck there, Brainiac, especially with solvin’ the mystery that is Michelangelo.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Least it helped lighten the tension right now, especially when they were both unsure how safe they truly were at present.

Raph’s eyes following as Donnie shined his light down one of the corridors of the old church, coming across a staircase leading the another section. Curious to see where they lead and what was awaiting them at the top. Hopefully they’d find some interesting stuff at least to salvage and bring home with them.

“Sounds good to me, splittin’ up doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“Since when have I ever had bad ideas?” Don scoffed. He had to pause a moment, mind running through several experiments and engineering attempts that had less than stellar results.

 He cleared his throat “Don’t answer that.”

The stairs sat in a narrow slice of wall that staggered upwards, made up of the same grey stone as the rest of the building. He knew the property had changed hands many times since its construction in the early 1900′s, and he could see the evidence of each slow attempt to drag this old relic into the modern world.

“Look. We should grab as much of that wire as we can before we go. I bet those are filled with copper.” He directed his beam towards the walls, highlighting the shoddy electric job. The insulated wire snaked towards the second floor and Don traced them down the stairs to a wooden door sitting half off its hinges. Beyond that, his light caught shapes and shadows- Furniture and bookshelves all put to storage.

 “Weird...”

He had to nudge the door hard, propping it up with his shoulder to manouver it far enough to pass. Frowning, he redirected his light at the room, spying old pews, an organ, books, shelves, chairs-

“Everything was cleared out upstairs except the pews. How come all THIS is still here?”

[rpmemequeen]

reblog if you want to receive angst inducing anons

e.g. asks about tough subjects for your muse, blaming/guilt-tripping, bringing up fears, pointing out insecurities, etc.

[orenjininja]

@deusxmachiiina​ continued

“Sounds like more work and less return than photocopying your face and selling it on etsy.” Don frowned, pointing his screwdriver at Mikey. 

 "Do not make photocopies of your face to sell on etsy.“

“Whaaaaat? I resent that, Donnie. Like I would ever do that.”

Mikey slung his arms behind his head and flashed a smile. “I mean, not after that whole thing with the tattoos, anyway. That was a total disaster. Still think it coulda worked out though.”

[deusxmachiiina]

"Are you kidding me? You’re lucky it wasn’t a WORSE disaster. We couldn’t get that ink off for months!’

 Don supressed a shudder. How Michelangelo got his hands on tattoo ink, he’d never know, but to this day he was only grateful that Mikey hadn’t had access to a tattoo gun.  “If you’d applied it subdermally, you’d *still* be walking around looking like a picasso.”  Without looking up from the innards of the Shellraiser, Don gestured at the wrench sitting by where his brother had perched himself, hand outstretched.  “You know, if you want to make some money, there’s other ways of going about it other than NFT’ing your face.”