||| ooc; gonna take another break for an unspecified amount of time bc i don't want to be here byeeee
AnasAbdin
Xuebing Du
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

Kaledo Art
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
occasionally subtle
Claire Keane

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RMH
Sade Olutola

pixel skylines

JBB: An Artblog!

titsay
ojovivo

shark vs the universe

No title available
we're not kids anymore.
NASA
noise dept.
No title available

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@jereviendrai
||| ooc; gonna take another break for an unspecified amount of time bc i don't want to be here byeeee
||| ooc; i badly need like 50000 messy ships on this godforsaken hellhole of a blog and i need them yesterday. a whole fleet of them.
hitundo:
@jereviendrai said: ‘ maybe you should try ‘plan d’ for ‘dumbass’. ’ (FOR PETER FROM IVAN XOXOXO)
The comment gets an eyeroll as a response from Peter. “See, this is why I don’t talk to you about things.” This is untrue, actually, as Peter has no issue with unloading just about everything onto Ivan, so long as it doesn’t relate to the whole Spider-Man thing. At the moment, though, it’s nothing that important, he’s simply sitting on his bed, attempting to get some kind of homework done, but getting absolutely nowhere.
Paper has a small blueprint he had been working on, but by now, all of it felt wrong. So he crumples it up into a ball, and tosses it at the other’s head. Lightly, of course.
"Oh, shut up. You know you love-- hey!”
Ivan is interrupted mid-sentence by Peter’s plan c smacking him in the forehead. It doesn’t hurt, but it hurts his feelings. Just a bit. Just a little teeny tiny bit. Enough of a bit for him to pull a dramatic frown and fix Peter with a kicked puppy kind of stare. Without breaking eye contact, he gathers up the offending weapon and begins the arduous task of delicately uncrumpling it.
“Under attack in my own home. My own friend. I’m hurt, Peter. Abso-fuckin-lutely wounded.”
He looks down at the unfolded piece of paper. His eyebrows furrow.
“The fuck is this, anyhow?”
hitundo:
@jereviendrai said: “well, you’re a very emotional person.” (THIS IS FROMMMM EVE)
A small sniffle comes from the witch. He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t stop words from sounding like an insult. It sounded like the kind of thing that Michael might say to her, before adding that she was probably faking it or something. Still, Mary had always been emotional, and she was always going to be emotional.
“Sorry.” Maybe not something worth apologizing over, but she felt the need to do so anyways. It was something she did regularly, a habit that stuck around after all the years stuck in the ground. “It’s just how I am. I’ve heard it’s good for you, actually.” She’s referring to crying, as she had been wiping away a few tears when the comment had been made.
Oh. Oh no. How that sweet, soft sorry tugs at his rotting heartstrings. He swears he can almost feel one snap. It’s difficult to repress a grin -- funniest and most honest interaction he’s had with another human being all day. All week. All month, even. Typically, he wouldn’t have said a thing at all, but there’s something about the way she looks with tears streaming down her cheeks that has left him utterly entranced.
“Is it, now,” Eve says flatly, softly. The words should add up to a question, but they come off as a distant statement by someone not quite present. He realizes a little too late that he’s staring a little too much. Before he knows it, he’s offering a handkerchief to her. It’s the polite thing to do.
“What has you so upset?”
𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 all of these are taken from glass animals’ 2016 album: how to be a human being
𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅
“Daddy was dumb, said that I’d be something special.”
“I was a gentle human.”
“Gotta get back.”
“Gotta get free.”
“Lean back and breathe.”
“She said I look wasted.”
𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇
“When I left you, you were young.”
“I was gone, but not my love.”
“You were clearly meant for more.”
“I want you to be happy.”
“I know you can make it right.”
𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝟐 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟑
“I’m so happy without your noise.”
“We’re moving forwards faster.”
“Lately I can’t take it.”
“Everything I tried to leave behind is still beside us.”
“It hurts to say it’s hopeless.”
“We ain’t gonna make it.”
“Sometimes it makes me laugh.”
“Sometimes it makes me sad.”
𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐀
“You took my hand and you made me run.”
“Why can’t we laugh now like we did then?”
“How come I see you and ache instead?”
“Maybe you’re fucking dumb.”
“I want you all the time.”
“I won’t forget how you looked at me then.”
“I know I’m no sweet prince of love.”
“Why don’t I say it then?”
𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐍
“He was all you’d ever want.”
“Was that your voice or was it me?”
“They’ll never ever let me be.”
“You murdered him.”
“My heart strings broke.”
“In the summer silence, I was getting violent.”
“Lay with me, my dear.”
hitundo:
@jereviendrai said: “hey, underachiever.” (IVAN TIME)
“That would be me.”
Nadine didn’t seem offended at all by the nickname. After all, it made sense. It was a real shock to anyone that she was in college, and even more of a shock that she was somehow managing to pass her classes. Sure, she was an underachiever, but part of being an underachiever was just barely managing to pass every test, with the least amount of effort possible. It was a skill on its own.
“What’s up?”
Oh good, he got the right person this time. He’d given the ‘hey, underachiever!’ spiel to at least four other people matching her description, and the death glares were getting just a bit old. He might’ve saved himself the trouble, asked for her by name, except he forgot it immediately after he was told. Natalie? Naomi? Naruto? No idea.
But the girl’s response isn’t overwhelmingly negative, so he’s sure he’s got the right person.
“Your grades!”
Beaming, ever eager, Ivan sets a folder on the table in front of her.
“These’re midterm answers. Fifty bucks, or best offer. Heard you could use ‘em.”
ASKS FOR PEOPLE WITH A MULTIMUSE OR MULTIPLE RP BLOGS
Which muse(s) is/are your favourite(s)?
Which muse(s) do you wish had more interactions?
Which muse(s) do you currently have most muse for?
Name a muse you have written in the past. What was your favourite thing about this muse?
Name a muse you wish to write in the future. What’s your favourite thing about this muse?
How is your multimuse blog organised?
Do you have crossover verses for the muses on your blog?
Which of your muses deserves better?
Which of your muses do you most identify with? Why?
If you could change the faceclaim for any of you muses, would you do it?
Do you have any original characters on your multimuse? If so, tell us something more about them.
How many muses are you currently writing?
In how many fandoms are you currently active?
What is your favourite fandom to write in? Why?
What is a fandom you wish to write in one day?
What is a fandom you used to write in in the past?
What is your favourite thing when you decide to add a new muse to your blog/when you decide to make a new blog?
Share an opinion you have about multimuse blogs.
Does your multimuse blog have a theme? Do the muses on your blog have something in common?
What is the story or explanation behind your blog name?
Share a positive experience about multimuses you’ve had in the past.
List some of your favourite multimuse blogs.
Tag a multimuse blog and write some positivity about them (their blog, their muses, etc.)
scmethinginthewater:
Klara didn’t really know what was considered appropriate. Not in this society, nor in any society. All she knew was that she was hungry. She’d last eaten at the facility, just before her handler had helped her escape into the world. That had been a few days ago, and she’d been running ever since. But now she was starving and needed to eat.
Walking through suburbia was a startlingly bizarre experience for her. All these houses, all these people. Klara had hidden herself as a stray cat, realising quickly that a scruffy, skinny cat drew far less attention than a scruffy looking, skinny teenager did. She waited until dark, until all the lights in the houses had switched off one by one. The streets were still illuminated with light, but the houses and their gardens were dark enough for her to sneak through.
It was too tempting not to try and find food. All day she’d smelt things coming from windows, but not brought herself to try and steal them. Instead, she waited until everyone was asleep. Sliding open an unlocked window and then using her cat form to jump in, breaking in was far too easy. As was using her nose to find food.
The pantry was like a miracle. In her excitement, Klara knocked one of the jars off, sending it shattering to the ground. She flinched, and waited. But no one seemed to react, and the food beckoned to her so strongly. So she continued, pulling out anything she could try.
She heard him half a second before the lights flipped on, but it was too late. Klara was caught, red handed. Wide eyes stared at the young man, unsure of how to answer.
Klara’s lack of a strong reaction gave Ivan pause. Maybe a little too much pause. The pair stood and stared at one another for what felt like ages -- was just seconds, but felt like forever. Too long. It was almost impressive, how quickly the adrenaline left Ivan’s body -- leaving him to deal with the mess of a break-in all by his lonesome. Leaving him with the discomfort of being able to stop and think critically for two seconds. These moments were typically a blessing for him, but this time... well, this time he just wished he could force her to get out.
She hadn’t taken anything. Nothing valuable, anyway. Nothing with any resale value. Just... food. Food that she devoured on the spot, rather than literally anywhere else. It was just weird. Struck him as odd. Not much of a threat -- just a nuisance that he’d have to pick up after.
Some home invasion this was.
“Seriously, what the fuck? What’s- what’s your problem?”
He tried to sound angry, perhaps a little intimidating, but he really just came off as... confused. This was uncharted territory for him. Maybe if she’d been aggressive he could’ve kept the momentum going, but they were both just standing there. He wasn’t able to do much with that, was he?
“Explain yourself, or-- or--”
He groaned, dragging his hands through his hair.
“Christ, dude, you’re fucking up my night. Why’re you here?”
||| ooc; can’t believe i wrote an entire fucking essay about the mental health of the characters on this blog and forgot to mention that ivan suffers paranoid delusions whoops
there isn’t really a whole lot to say??? he just kind of... has them. usually he can keep them in check, but sometimes something fucks him up so badly that he just doesn’t have the mental energy to figure out what’s real and what isn’t.
usually his delusions are like, extreme fear of someone hurting him, using something against him or abandoning him. and if he doesn’t catch it and doesn’t realize that he’s spiraling out of control, he goes to great and messy lengths to avoid that pain.
aaaaand then he comes out of it and he’s like “what the fuck” and brutally hates himself and avoids people like the plague. it’s fun! fun. fun...
so when he’s experiencing something he thinks might be paranoid delusion, he gets really... worried... and he does his best to avoid whichever trigger he’s identified as the root cause of the delusion. ‘cause like, he doesn’t... like to spiral like that. it’s messy and it feels bad/ugly.
iDK THERE’S A LOT THAT GOES INTO THIS...
also it doesn’t help that he has uh, a very real threat in his life. like. there IS someone who is genuinely after him. someone who wants to hurt him, use things against him, more or less isolate him and ruin his life...? so not only does he deal with delusions, but he also has like... something rooted in reality that helps him justify his paranoid and irrational thinking.
so it’s hard for him to talk himself down from it. he tries tho. he tries.
someone please come love my son 8′)
chaosiica:
@jereviendrai ★ cont
okay, maybe he shouldn’t be bringing his school work home with him. whoops.
billy’s less than perfectly pitying, glad to see ivan back from the realm of the all-seeing after a solid thirty minutes of whatever multiverse insight he’s been gifted with. or cursed. this one sounded more like cursed. ❛ i opened your third eye. it’s a thing i learned. ❜
the students at strange academy are slower to take to peeping into the fabrication and stitches of all reality than ivan— it’s something billy was introduced to at the tender age of ‘ possible next sorcerer supreme ‘ when stephen pressed his thumb gently on his temple, and billy blinked into a world he’d never even knew existed. he only recently picked up the same trick, a prod of his fingertip to anyone’s head, coaxing sight undiscovered out into the multi-world to a thousand possibilities.
but maybe he needs work. ❛ haven’t actually tried it before, though. ❜
‘i opened your third eye. it’s a thing i learned.’
so casual, the way billy says it. so calm, so detached from the horror of it all. ivan can barely focus on a single thing coming out of billy’s mouth -- far too preoccupied with the tears leaking out of his forehead. they drip down the bridge of his nose, slide along the grooves of his nostrils, hang just off the tip. it’s weird. it’s so weird. he lifts a hand to wipe the tears from his original two eyes, then his third eye. it reacts -- blinking, fluttering -- like a normal eye.
it’s weird. it’s so weird.
ivan grimaces, lower lip trembling -- upper failing to remain anywhere near as stiff as he’d like. his three eyes squeeze shut. tears continue to stream down his cheeks, his forehead.
“jesus elizabeth christ, i want to light you on fire,” ivan grumbles through gritted teeth, his upper lip twitching as the beginnings of a nasty headache take root in his frontal lobe. his temples throb. he hisses softly and starts massaging them, for all the good that will do.
a lot happened in the span of those thirty minutes, but one thing sticks out to him above all the rest. a familiar face flecked with his blood, standing over him with a blade in hand, gloating as though he’d finally--
it’s a thought ivan can’t bear to finish. he saw. he knew what he saw.
“so, what? what does it do? amp up the paranoid delusions, or--? ‘cause i don’t fucking need that in my life, guy from the news.”
||| ooc; I GOT TESTED AHHHHH I HATED IT
||| ooc; actually wait i have to go find out if i have covid bYE
||| ooc; does every character on this blog have bpd symptoms? is this problematic, considering they’re all villains or would-be villains? is there a way to give a villain a mental health disorder without stigmatizing the disorder? well--
OH AND BIG TRIGGER WARNING FOR A WIDE RANGE OF MENTAL HEALTH TOPICS SUCH AS: eating disorders, mental illness, stigmatization of mental illness, self harm, suicidal tendencies, and a fuckload more. I don’t go into detail. There are just mentions. I’m not gonna say a bunch of graphic shit, I promise! If I went into graphic detail, this would turn into a PhD thesis proposal, and that’d be WAY too long to be worth writing. Also I have BPD, but I’m not going to pretend that I’m an expert on the subject. I’m not. My word is not law, but it’d be nice if my word was taken into consideration.
this post got so fucking long and disorganized jesus christ
||| ooc; why am i spending hours on a literal essay about my characters’ mental health
Third Eye (which is definitely Billy's fault, he's sorry)
fuck guys from the news. honestly, fuck them. ivan had been inclined to feel sympathetic towards the lot of them for the longest time. always having to hide, people constantly up in their business, always having to save the day. it’s tiresome enough that ivan feels immense pity for them.
but that all changed when one of those guys from the news decided to give ivan a little cosmic plastic surgery. thanks to the newest addition to his face -- an eye smack dab in the middle of his forehead -- he’s spent the last half hour screaming his throat raw.
visions of tragedy, of death, of great and catastrophic storms dance before his eyes. ghostly apparitions dive at him and make him cower, clawing and jeering at him. he can see eve’s smirk, the familiar glint of a scalpel, the pristine white tile of the basement floor, blood, a new scar -- his parents frowning down at him as he lay in a hospital bed, his vision forever tainted by shadows out of the corners of his eyes.
lifetimes upon lifetimes flash before his third eye, his original two rolling so far back in his head that only the whites remain visible. veiny, bloodshot, barely-white whites. and he screams and he sobs for each of those thirty minutes, cowering and hiding his face behind the sleeves of his flannel as though he’s naught but a small child hiding from the monster in his closet.
with a soft whimper, a shudder, it stops. the pain, the terror, the chaos -- it all just stops. he stares blankly at his palms, then slowly rests his gaze on billy’s face. all three of his eyes blink in unison.
“what the fuck. did you do. to me.”
||| ooc; i don’t mean to sound clinically insane (i mean like, i am but you know what i mean) but i want a warriors au so fucking bad.
like. the cat books. the books about the feral cats that fight each other and have like, holy wars and shit. the books for children that i was obsessed with when i was 11.