Feel free to reblog my Drabbles! I actually love that! But please do not reblog my headcanons or threads.
Feel free to like the headcanons, but please don't for my RP threads. If you click the 3 dots on the post you can follow it if you want to be able to read replies! I don't mind that!
I also am willing to reply to anon asks in character at times when I'm feeling it so never hesitate to bug my muses!
PSA to fellow RPers:
I always accept Memes.
If you see a sentence starter or prompt you think would work for our muses but I haven't reblogged it? Send it anyway! Just make sure you send the whole description if it's ab action prompt.
Send me posts via IM or discord and tell me your idea if you had an actual plot idea you got from a prompt or anything else at all!
Loudest Muses ATM:
Kiri te Suli Kìreysì'ite
Paz Socorro
Harry Hook
Nia Nal
Oronlótë Telperinquë Gilduil
Delirium of The Endless aka Ariadne
Sandman Muses:
Cluracan
Calliope
Daniel Hall (He's an AU version where Dream did not die)
Dream of the Endless
Erebos
Hesychia
Hypnos
Icarus (crossover with BBC Atlantis)
Jessamy Jemma Byrne (Jemma Burgess verse, she takes the place of Jon Dee )
Lorraine
Mia
Nalira (The Original Dreamer)
Nia Nal
Orpheus (Secondary Verse)
Harry Hook
PSA's/Rule's
I really don't tag triggers unless we interact in some form and you ask me to, I just don't see the point if we don't interact bc you can always unfollow.
Reblog memes from me, idc 😌
Don't be a bitch
Good Omens Muses: Thread Trackers
Crowley (Reverse AU)
Demon Aziraphale
Humanized Bentley
Gabriel
Beelzebub
Uriel
MCU:
Morgan Stark(info to come)
Lord of the Rings:
Oronlótë Telperinquë Gilduil
Eragon:
Angela The Wise
Elva Silverbrow
Siren:
Sylvia Waters
Spirit Riding Free:
Fortuna Esperanza Navarro “Lucky” Prescott
Once Upon A Time:
Wendy Moira Angela Darling
Zarina
Haven:
Jennifer Mason
TVD/TO/Legacies:
Kieran Marcellus Mikaelson
Supernatural/TVD Crossover:(the Nephilim information for the characters below was thought up before Jack was introduced)
I almost got into a fight at some 4th of July fireworks because my dad was zipper merging into a line to leave the parking lot afterwards and this guy threw his fucking drink out his car window at his truck because in his words my dad was "cutting him off" when really he was merging into the line to leave.
My dad got out of the car to take a photo of the guy's license plate in case there was damage to the truck because it's a lease and the guy got out of his fucking car and then two more grown ass adults got out of the car so my crazy bitch ass had to get out and threatened to fight someone and then scream at him three times to get in the car.
Because I know that this man would have fought them, all three of them if he had to at once because one time someone got out of a car and started screaming at him while we were stuck in traffic on the way to an amusement park and he ended up putting the guy through a window. If I hadn't gotten out and Defuse The Situation someone would have ended up put through a window and it probably wouldn't have been him, despite the fact that he is half crippled.
"Would the sunglasses help?" Sam questioned, "it seems like some magic thing where it would always be bright or noticeable,"
She's looking through the box of things people have left behind at the store, remembering she saw some sunglasses a while back that no one claimed, curious if they would work for him.
"I fukin' wish, pro'ly not though." Harry said with a frustrated huff, when she stopped looking through the box he moved and drapped his arms over her shoulders from behind. It wasn't exactly new, he did this with plenty of people he felt comfortable with. The way he turned his head and hid his eyes in her hair was though.
Hiding his eyes seemed lie the only way to get the power to 'stop', and with how touch regulated him? Hiding his eyes like this helped when the lights got to much and started over simulating him. "But not lookin' at anythin' works pretty well."
I need to let the two of you know that Discord has stopped letting me send messages for some reason and I don't know if you guys have responded to anything either.
Why do so many younger Republican men in politics look like Thumb Thumbs from Spy kids? It's such a strange phenomenon and I feel like it needs to be studied.
The sound he made was something between a breath and a growl, the kind that came from too deep to belong anything mortal or even immortal - a fury that predated gods. The shadows shuddered and then bent towards him as the spots of starlight flared, his face becoming entirely shadowed for a moment before he pushed it back again
“They did this willingly,” he echoed, the words hard and hollow. “They bound themselves in pursuit of immortality. Not for wisdom, not for creation, but to work until nothing of themselves remained?” He shut his eyes and the void of speckled starlight that had covered him pulsed again before it stilled and peeled away from him, drawn back by a visible act of will.
When he opened them again, the fury hadn’t vanished, but it had sharpened, given direction. “The influence of nightmare energy is unmistakable,” he said, more evenly now. “It feeds on fear, on twisted desperation, on all the parts of you that you hide from yourself. It does not need to force the hand only whisper.”
His gaze softened when it returned to Hornet. “They believed they chose this, but no one makes such a choice untouched.” His thoughts turned back to all those who had been influenced by The First Corinthian to follow every twisted thought they had, the amount of people who may have lived happy productive lives if not for his unchecked nightmare.
He turned toward the webbed figures again, his expression carved from grief as much as rage. “This will not stand. Whatever festers at the heart of this infection, I will find it. And I will end it.”
A pause and then he said quieter, a hint of something like sincere under the fury. “I am sorry that you have had to walk among this alone, no matter how long for.” He assumed that she had her mother growing up, possibly others. But she was alone now, and no matter the reason for it - willing or not. She should not have had to face these sights alone.
Is it strange that she finds his reaction reassuring? That he makes her feel a little more sane? Sometimes Hornet thought that she was going crazy, that all of this was…some how normal and acceptable, and she was the one who had lost her mind. She supposes, in some ways, that to the people of this kingdom that is the case.
This is all they know. There is no other frame of reference and Hornet considers herself lucky in that respect, for she had been brought here against her will, and her first interaction with this place had been one of violence and disrespect. Hornet tightens her grip on her weapon, and listens to him. Actually listens. Tilts her head up and absorbs his words and then nods.
She thinks he is correct. That these people had been tricked into it…it was the conclusion she had come to as well, albeit, she found Morpheus far more eloquent at stating that right now. Hornet has yet to work out how she feels about this other than horrified.
For a moment she stills, a look of sadness and quiet contemplation on her face as she catches up to what he was actually saying. Her thoughts were still centered on the denizens of this kingdom, on people like Sherma, the little pilgrim who was barely a teenager, yet so determined and so dedicated to something that was…entirely a lie. She did not have it in her to tell him. Or to dissuade him. She fears, this is his future. Swallowing the lump in her throat she ignores it, presses on, and gently shakes her head.
“There is no apology to be made, for there is no fault to be had and no blame to ascribe.” There’s a moment's pause, “I was brought here against my will, captured by a Chorus who I assume are under the command of The Citadel.” Her escape had resulted in the deaths of the entire Chorus of soldiers.
A soft sigh leaves her. “The people here are kind, my loneliness pales. I knew what was required the moment I escaped and set foot into this haunted place.”
Morpheus said nothing at first as he gets hold of the darker parts of himself that are trying to pull themselves to the forefront. The air around him had already grown too heavy with the wrongness of the place, with the tang of fear and corruption soaking into stone and silk alike. Even standing still, he could feel it pressing at the edges of him, tugging at the parts of his nature that answered to darkness. For a moment the shadows along his shoulders deepened, and the faint starlight in his hair glittered brighter, then dimmed again as he forced himself back under control.
Hornet’s response settled somewhere quiet in him, not because it eased anything but because it confirmed what he had already begun to fear. This kingdom had not merely fallen, it had been made to rot from within.
His gaze moved over the ruined courtyard, over the strings of silk and the people trapped within them, and something in his expression sharpened into cold certainty. When he looked back to her, it was with a kind of restrained tenderness that sat strangely against the darkness gathering at the edges of the world. Something that he saved for his children in even the most dire of situations.
“You were not meant to carry this alone,” he said at last, the words quiet enough to almost be lost under the breathing hush of the dead city if not carried by his innate power.
“And you should not have been forced into this path that way, but I will help you purge the rot that is festering within the bones of this place.” he told her, and there was weight in it; not approval or pity exactly, but recognition. Of her strength and endurance, of the particular grief of someone who had done the impossible simply because they could and no one else would.
Then his eyes turned again toward the silken puppets hanging around them, and the coldness in his voice returned as he told her. “Show me to the heart of this mess.”
I am once again thinking about how dreams nightmare form resembles his mother in the fact that it looks like a swirling mist of darkness with stars inside when he's fully in that form and I'm not okay bc what do you mEAN HIS MOTHER IS WHAT HE THINKS OF WHEN HE THINKS OF NIGHTMARES.
Luca was exhausted from his hike to find out where those cries were coming from. He succeeded then, he found an infant left alone, weak and scared, protected by animals. He was bruised and scraped, bleeding from the mama bear knocking him around, he still wasn't sure why she stopped without him acting, he would deal with his wounds later, he needed to get this kid cleaned up.
He walked back into camp, relieved the border allowed the child in. He wasn't sure if he was just a nymph, or if he was a demigod, or maybe something the border would detect as a threat and prevent from entering. He was walking to the big house as the infant napped, wrapped in his hoodie, really trying to ignore the stink around the baby and from the nasty blanket in his pocket. He saw someone staring and offered a tired smile,
"It's a long story, I'll share later.. Is Chiron in the Big House? Cause I gotta give him the run down first while I clean this little guy up,"
Chiron had mentioned they had sent a camper to investigate strange sounds and weird animal behaviors when she'd popped in to visit Dionysus, and Delirium had clapped her hands and said how interesting that sounded. When they had mentioned that it was one of the campers touched by dream stuff who'd gone looking? She had ignored her husbands whinnying complaints as she stood from where she'd been sitting on the arm of his chair and skipped off to see if he was on his way back yet.
It didn't matter which version of Delirium you encountered - Delight, Ariadne or Delirium - , every version found mysteries especially entertaining. When he appeared from the tree line she stopped and tilted her head at the sight of the baby, when he acknowledged her she grinned and made her way over.
"He is! Dion's probably being extra grumpy cause I left the house." She walked next to him as she spoke, fingers wiggling over the babies face she spoke in an attempt to make him giggle and making as little water bubbles appeared around her fingers. "He's quite a stinky baby."
""Mr. D is gonna be more mad when he smells this," he jokes lightly, "whoever left him out there left him wrapped in a blanket with no diaper, kid was caked in his own filth cause the animals that tried to look after him couldn't exactly clean him well, plus said blanket is currently ruining my pocket.. I didn't want to leave it as litter and also it might be the only link to a parent so I'm gonna try to clean it up for him," Luca had so many questions and concerns about the kid, he didn't even know where to start, he didn't even know if he was holding the baby right, he never held someone so young before.
The baby opened his eyes a bit as Luca was talking more, golden eyes glancing around before staring at Ariadne, curious but too weak to react much, simply giving a small squeak like sound when a bubble popped on his nose.
Luca was worried about the kid, not knowing how long he was out there alone and unable to eat anything. It was hard to figure out what would be too much for the baby's stomach, overfeeding when someone was suffering from starvation would kill them quickly, he knew that from history books about World War 2, though he wasn't sure how to determine what was too much or if he was in that bad a state. He was absolutely dehydrated, but his bones weren't poking through so it was a tough call without an examination.
"Hmm, Di-Di seems like a grumpy pants but he's really all soft and gooey on the inside." Kind of like her brother, even if in completely different ways. "Especially with little itty bitty ones." She told him, finger reaching out to lightly boop the infants nose. As her hand pulled away a butterfly had appeared on his nose, wings flapping slowly twice before taking off.
"I can make him less smelly!" She offered with a bright smile, eyes shifting through a rainbow of colors. "Then we don't have to listen to the rumbley grumblies." The 'rumbley grumblies' part was said with her lowering her voice, lightly mocking the sound of someone grumbling about something that annoyed them.
Ariadne did have more than one child with Dionysus, however because they were conceived and born before she killed herself and reverted back to her Endless form they were considered Demi-Gods and lived and died semi-mortal life spans if not killed before old age. News of the death of one of her children was actually what triggered the episode that lead to her death.
Luca was exhausted from his hike to find out where those cries were coming from. He succeeded then, he found an infant left alone, weak and scared, protected by animals. He was bruised and scraped, bleeding from the mama bear knocking him around, he still wasn't sure why she stopped without him acting, he would deal with his wounds later, he needed to get this kid cleaned up.
He walked back into camp, relieved the border allowed the child in. He wasn't sure if he was just a nymph, or if he was a demigod, or maybe something the border would detect as a threat and prevent from entering. He was walking to the big house as the infant napped, wrapped in his hoodie, really trying to ignore the stink around the baby and from the nasty blanket in his pocket. He saw someone staring and offered a tired smile,
"It's a long story, I'll share later.. Is Chiron in the Big House? Cause I gotta give him the run down first while I clean this little guy up,"
Chiron had mentioned they had sent a camper to investigate strange sounds and weird animal behaviors when she'd popped in to visit Dionysus, and Delirium had clapped her hands and said how interesting that sounded. When they had mentioned that it was one of the campers touched by dream stuff who'd gone looking? She had ignored her husbands whinnying complaints as she stood from where she'd been sitting on the arm of his chair and skipped off to see if he was on his way back yet.
It didn't matter which version of Delirium you encountered - Delight, Ariadne or Delirium - , every version found mysteries especially entertaining. When he appeared from the tree line she stopped and tilted her head at the sight of the baby, when he acknowledged her she grinned and made her way over.
"He is! Dion's probably being extra grumpy cause I left the house." She walked next to him as she spoke, fingers wiggling over the babies face she spoke in an attempt to make him giggle and making as little water bubbles appeared around her fingers. "He's quite a stinky baby."
I left what was going on when she came to camp pretty vague so that I can write her either during the war or in the Next Generation depending on plot
Opal is a 16 year old daughter of Iris and a mortal parent who made a name for themselves as a famous artist. Their work was known for landscapes and cityscapes that seemed almost too vivid to be real, full of strange little details most people assumed were stylistic choices. In truth, they could see through the Mist, and what they painted was the world as it actually existed to them - nymphs half-hidden in trees, monsters lurking within crowded streets, old magic clinging to bridges, rooftops, and abandoned places. It was through that ability to see the hidden world so clearly, and the beauty they found in it, that Iris first took notice of them.
Opal grew up surrounded by paint, sketchbooks, and rooms always lit by windows large enough to flood everything with color. Her childhood was split between ordinary mortal life and the quiet, strange reality of having a parent who never really understood the world the same way other people did. That made her own strangeness easier for them to accept than it might have been otherwise, because Opal was born with wings.
Large feathered wings that could fold tightly against her back, close enough to be hidden beneath loose tops and hoodies when she needs them to be - though at Camp Half-Blood she usually keeps them looser because she doesn’t have to hide them all the time. When tucked in, they sit against her back neatly enough that the mist lets them be hidden easily enough, but when spread out they are impossible to ignore and most assume they are fake and part of some elaborate costume her parent has helped her make. The feathers are soft white at rest but in the right light they shimmer with faint rainbow color, as if sunlight has gotten caught inside them. Her mortal parent named her, and her wings are where her name came from.
Her build that makes her loom younger than she is; small, quick, and restless, with the sort of energy that contributed to both her parents nickname for her – hummingbird. Her hair is usually messy, her clothes practical, and she almost always had bits of paint on her cloths either fresh or stained in. She does not try very hard to look intimidating, and that’s probably for the best, because she is not intimidating. She is bright in a way that is hard to miss, even when she is trying to stay quiet.
Personality-wise, Opal is curious, observant, and more than willing to ask questions. She gets distracted easily, and tends to say exactly what she is thinking without always thinking it through first. She is affectionate in an awkward, half-embarrassed way, and she gets attached to people easily. She is also far more perceptive than she gives herself credit for, especially when it comes to noticing the little changes in people’s expressions that tell her something is wrong before they say it out loud. Her kindness is instinctive rather than polished, and while she can be stubborn when she feels like she is being ignored? She’s not the type to pick fights for no reason.
As a daughter of Iris, Opal’s powers are light and color based. Her main ability is a limited power to temporarily change the color of things. She can shift the color of small objects, clothing, marks, surfaces, and other visible details for a short time, but she cannot make anything permanently different, and she can’t use it to do anything major. Most of the time her power is useful for little things - hiding a stain, making something stand out, changing the color of a ribbon or piece of fabric, changing the color of haur or eyes for a short while.
Because she was born with her wings rather than growing into them as a power, Opal was able to live at home with her mortal parent for years before Camp Half-Blood became necessary. Her divine scent didn’t really become a problem until her color-manipulation abilities started manifesting around age nine or ten, which was when monsters started noticing her more. That allowed her a childhood that was strange, but still mostly normal - one filled with paint-stained hands, unfinished sketches, and the awareness that she was different and peoples minds couldn’t and wouldn’t allow them to understand that.
When she first came to camp Opal stayed for a year, and after that she became a Summer camper who occasionally showed up during extended school holidays as well.
Delirium shifted the moment he broke. She moved up a step without asking, then wrapped herself around him as best she could. Her arm came around his shoulders while the rain kept falling like the sky had forgotten how to do anything else, she wasn't surprised her realm had a way of leaking when he did. Like he was trying to hide in the wet.
For a moment she didn't say anything. She just held him. Her fingers drifted against his back in an absent, soothing pattern. Then, quieter, with her cheek pressed against his temple, she murmured, “That isn't how that works, you don't have to become not-you to become softer. Stones get smoothed by rivers all the time and they're still stones. Just less stabby in the pockets.”
Her voice tipped strangely again around the edges, the way it tended to when logic was trying to make its way out through a filter of strangness. “You're the best at being you. Nobody else can do it properly.” She pulled back just enough to look at him, mismatched eyes bright and damp and terribly earnest. “There isn't a better you hiding in a cupboard somewhere. There is only this one. The sad wet one on the stairs with too much guilt inside him.”
Delirium reached up and pushed a piece of rain-plastered hair back from his face with surprising care. “And you are not bad because you hurt people sometimes. Hurt is not the same thing as cruelty. Attacks and accidents both hurt, but they're not the same.” Her mouth twisted a little. “You've been cruel, yes. Very stabby even with your words, very closed doors, very ‘I shall stand over here and be a gloomy statue until everyone feels awkward’.” Her voice went slightly gravely at the last part, like she was trying to copy his voice without really sounding like him.
“But you also came back for me. And for Nada. And for Hob. And for Calliope even when it hurt. And for your son, in the end, when you know what he would ask but loved him enough to listen.” Her arms tightened around him again, grounding, warm despite the rain. “You don't have to earn staying, you can just stay because you're my brother and I love you. That's enough.”
As he felt her arm around him, he only sobbed harder. He sometimes just needed to know his siblings were still there for him. He wanted to know that they didnt hate him. But the weather did reflect his moods as well. Which right now was as gloomy. The rain was heavy like the tears that now flowed. His emotions were leaking out as well. Morpheus was feeling so lost. He hadnt expected his sister to hold him and almost didnt know what he was supposed to do with such comfort.
He teared up more when she said he didnt have to change. ❝ I don't know how to change or be better.❞ he knew that he couldn't just be cold and emotionless forever. He had to consider the feelings of others as well. He knew Delirium was trying to tell him that he didn't need to be not Morpheus to be better. He had thought for so long that wasnt the case. Even if part of him hadn't wanted to die. He just felt he would have deserved it. He had been so scared and lost. But the truth was yes he just wanted to stop hurting and feeling that. He wanted his pain to go away and not feel what he was feeling.
Morpheus smiled weakly when she continued to speak. It seemed to make him that much more emotional that she thought he was fine the way he was. ❝ I suppose in some way I needed to hear that, That you all dont hate who I am.❞ he did want to be a better brother. Not one who pushed his siblings away. But she was correct that he did have too much guilt inside. He just didn't know how to be anything else but the man who had all that guilt.
He let out a long sigh when she pushed his wet hair out of his face as well. The dream lord could tell she was trying to mimic his voice which made him chuckle a little. ❝ I don't know what I would have done without you.❞ there was days that he had felt so alone as well. But he wasn't easy to be around at times. He didnt even know how to deal with people. He didnt always know how to deal with his sibling.
Morpheus let out a choke sob at her next words. He knew that he was just her brother. But he had done his best to make amends by coming back for those he had wronged and left behind as well.❝ And you need only to be my little sister as well. ❞ he didnt want for his siblings to change either. Even Desire, he didnt really want them to change entirely either. Even if he wanted to make amends, he didnt want them to be anybody else other than the Desire they were. Even when they annoyed him.
Delirium hummed softly at his words, her head tipping to one side as if she were listening to something farther away than the rain. “Hmm.. Not change, just not pretending anymore.”
She leaned down and drew a small circle on the wet stone with one finger, then looked back up at him with that strange, pouting seriousness she got sometimes. “You do that a lot, you know. Pretending you are made of stone so nobody can see you bleeding. Pretending you don't care when you care so much it makes you all sharp and quiet and mean to yourself and the people who try to be nice to you when you can't be nice to yourself.” Her mouth curved a little, a small show of annoyed fondness. “It is very annoying.”
Delirium shifted closer again, bumping her shoulder lightly against his as her arm wen around his back and her head leaned against his shoulder. “You don't have to know how to stop pretending all at once though, that's not how it works. First stop pretending the hurts the only thing you should listen to.” Her fingers of her other hand curled loosely in the fabric of her skirt, fidgeting with the hem. “And you don't have to earn us staying; don't have to be less Dream, or more pleasant, or less gloomy, or turn into somebody else entirely.”
She glanced at him sideways, her voice going softer around the edges. A pause, then quieter. “I don't want a different brother, I want this one. Even the grumpy version. And for what it is worth, I think you are very good at being you when you stop being mean about it.”
Then she drew back enough to look at him properly, mismatched eyes full of that mock seriousness that she did so well. “So. No vanishing or disappearing or dramatic doom-poetry in the rain. You may sit here and be tragic if you must, but you are staying. And when you can breathe without sounding like a cracking ice, we go find Death and you tell her sorry.”
