seen from Germany
seen from Jersey
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Poland
seen from Poland
seen from China
seen from Mexico
seen from Yemen
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from France
seen from Poland
seen from Germany
seen from Georgia
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from Singapore
seen from Mexico
txrmenter came to experiment
txrmenter
"You know, Thaddaeus has been door-hopping an excessive amount lately—to which Reader insists that we put a bell on him to know if he has moved from the bar—and he came back to tell me all about it. Upon after describing that world he said, and I quote, "Fuckity-neurofen, my eyes are about to swivel around in protest !"
... To think that he is a holy entity with that mouth is very alarming."
how do you feel about Reader?
ask my character, “how do you feel about ______?” can be an idea, person(s), place, or thing, and they’ll have to answer honestly.
“Reader ?" A smile curved itself heavenward with an immediacy. “Dear Reader, the good Guardian… what is not to love ? He is kind and benevolent, but also wrathful at times—but he is also loya, and I love him so very dearly, just as many others do. And I am certain that the other me’s would say the very same thing: he deserves only happiness.”
rexder
"... Thaddaeus has been door-hopping again," remarked the albino, who motioned (albeit pointlessly) translucent eyes to the vicinity in which the Guardian's steps were sourced. She always knew when it was him. She placed the white Rubik's cube of braille indentations down. "Excessively. But... he came back this morning. He was crying. Thaddaeus does not cry. But I could hear it. He saw something that he did not like."
Billie and your husband
Make my muse chose between two people. ANY TWO PEOPLE.
Utterly unbeknownst to the sentiment her friend harboured—that’s what she was. No amount of indications in her meek voice could have alerted the albino to it, nor was it appropriate to confess. “Oh, Billie ! Would you really have me choose between you and Coleridge ? That is very unfair.”
Of course, she would choose the doctor—and most likely break her friend’s heart for the umpteenth time.
2 people received an electric shock
skepticalstarbuck
akingswoman
Pulse quickened, veins constrained by a thrum of electricity. His was a record tainted and smeared by an incident of horrific claim; leaving the giant of a gentle man only to fret. The former biochemist offered a raise of large hands in submission, if only to anxiously reaffirm thinly-framed glasses upon his nose.
"P-Please, y' gotta understand," insisted a crass New York tone, "I ain' done nothing, I-I'm innocen'."
a man named Stayne killed him. he stabbed him and left him to die alone.
Send my muse lies about people they care for.
Stayne. This was the man she was to tear asunder by flesh and bone.
She was a kind creature; effervescent in her insistence to exercise a kindness to all—but a tiredness exacted itself upon both her patience and her heart, and thus birthed a far less pleasant m o n s t r o s i t y that the government would have been proud to call their liberator. If only they had been so tactical.
Crescents etched themselves into the meat of her palm; digging and digging and digging ‘till she could finally register the discomfort that pricked her flesh.
”Then he is going to die.”
A pause; if only to frequent thoughts she dreaded to entertain. Her stomach lurched at the thought; contrived of anger and upset in equal shame.
”Tell me: where was Thaddaeus ? He must have accompanied Reader. Never has he failed to be at his side; like a loyal dog… did he fall too ? Was that why Reader did ? Because the guardian could not protect a Guardian ?”
Reader is dead and he won't come back.
Send my muse lies about people they care for.
It was but a penumbra of false allegations; lies and slanderous syllables that elicited the semblance of provocation. To tell the once-experiment that one she fought to abstain from destroying was gone—no. It was not so much self-deprecation as it was an imminent notion of rage that had been housed for some time; barely constrained—barely controlled.
Her grief would come later; and she would weep unabated for the loss of one so dearly loved. Presumptuous as she came to be about the circumstance that allowed a bile to line her throat, Fleurette merely cocked her head; as though to query the voice of the grey ether. Behind a curtain they chanced to spout their cowardice of tongue—but even so; it did not matter. It must have been someone that had done this.
”… Who did it ? Who killed him ? You are going to tell me—because if you do not, I am going to rip you a p a r t .”
magicxecustos
She had not anticipated visitors whilst on bed rest at home. The only ones she had seen were Coleridge himself (who seldom left her side—this instance being a rarity of reluctance) and Dr. Reeds; Wilfred to most, but nonetheless ascertaining her health, to the annoyance of the biochemist himself who pertained a medical expertise of his own.
But this? Now, this was a nice surprise! Still the newest progeny remained bundled in her arms; wholly akin to the one that cradled him.
"Sheri, darling!"
