#ugh me

[lotsel]

you say you're a winter bitch but summer's in your blood

[grapeenthusiast]

it's my #1 bigender genderfluid FREAK. look at those BOOOTSSS

[jadetea-writing]

man, it's real hard to get things done when you have "can't get things done" disorder

wild that a thing that needs to get done includes getting help for said disorder

[rp-sideblog-incorporated]

WELCOME! I think...

hi! I made this blog for general rp purposes, like to keep track of things like my characters and whatnot. (*cough* And also so I don't feel as awkward replying with my main blog *cough*)

My main blog is @mepsratwizard

even though this is supposed to mainly be for me interacting with other blogs, if you are enamored by one of my precious blorbos and wish to interact with them specifically, feel free to shoot an ask my way!

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RULES:

No explicitly sexual or NSFW asks

Trigger warnings to anything that needs any

Any anon asks go to Emcee unless you otherwise specify which character you're talking to

Harass the characters not me

Have fun! ❤️

(May add more rules later if people decide to actually interact with this I've never done this before)

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MY CHARACTERS

CHARACTER RP MASTERPOST

🎤Mr. Emcee

Another nyarlathotep and a darling entertainer with a pension for gameshows (usually with people dying)

🎤🎵 is Lillith

🎤🪕 Is Janus

🎤🔫 is Iggy

🎤💉 is Medic

🎤🧿 are The Watchers

🎤🪡 is The Tailor

🎤💛 is Arthur and John (currently not in use anymore)

⚜️ (unintroduced)

ALL OTHER CHARACTER UNDER CUT

Wife Guy A.K.A. Guy Hemlocke

A surprisingly well adjusting guy in his early 30s

His wife is a cryptid

His tag is "wife guy" here and on the waylay management blog

Gnute

A calico cat with a third eye that eats dreams

Belongs to the Manager

likes knocking things off desks

🦐Little Lamb/Whisper (currently with @/waylay-management-2)

Little lamb [was] a vessel for Whisper

See this post for more details on them

Little Lamb is now dead

Kay

A very handsome looking corpse?

He's sorta anywhere I want to put him

either the dark world or wandering around dead

[somuchbetterthanthat]

The world wakes up and it’s as it’s always been; only seasons have passed, and it’s the middle of august -- didn’t people go to sleep in october? Only there is a building in London that’s completely exploded, shaking the foundations of many others in the process; who knew there were so many tunnels down there?

The world wakes up, but it’s terrified, angry, vengeful, sad, lost, confused, happy, happy, happy, haunted -- haunted by the dreams that were the world for a very, very long night. Some people have lost their names and others their limbs, some refuse to believe this is real, some try to crawl into the Earth and others cannot bare to be anywhere enclosed anymore. 

Amidst this, there is a voice that knows and explains; it sounds certain and apologetic, and it resonates across all radios of the world. The voice doesn’t sound scared, because it cannot be; but Georgie is haunted by the loss of those she’d wanted so hard to protect. It’s haunted by the certainty that whatever they’ve accomplished, something worse might happen, elsewhere. (Might happen, here, in a world that has been shown its ugliest, most terrifying face).

Somewhere in London, relentlessly, with a determined look on her face and terse shoulders, Basira helps. Anyone, everyone, she directs, commands, questions, shows, and watches over to make sure everything doesn’t break too fast. She picks up the first dog by accident, and the second two slightly more on purpose; she’s haunted by a not quiet melody that never settled in her bones and that she firmly ignores; she’s haunted by a rough laugh. She picks up daisies every week and put them on her table. It’s the only time she lets her hands tremble.

The world will rebuild; Melanie was never one for hope, or she didn’t think she was. But the world will rebuild because it did before. She feels a odd sort of peace, sometimes, that almost makes her dizzy; she sits back on a therapist’s couch, and she resumes speaking. And when she’s done, she asks the therapist: “Have you been talking to someone too?” a bit abruptly. She picks up her own youtube channel dubiously, and tells everyone -- she can’t see them, but damn it, she’ll put a rock on the new foundations of this scarred world: talk, talk, talk; do not rely on the anger. It’ll only sustain you until you’re left with ashes. (she is, perhaps ironically so, perhaps the least haunted of them all.)

Somewhere, in Scotland, there is a house; 

it’s a quiet house, that meant love, and safety, and laughter; it’s a quiet house that saw the end of the world, and shows nothing for it. 

It is haunted by memories and laughter; it is haunted by grief itself; it is lived in by two ghosts that can still hold each other’s hand, and don’t try to pretend that it’s enough anymore, even if their knuckles are white from how hard they grip at each other. 

[vyr2oso]

Having ADHD be like

Me, an ADHD: excuse me you expect me to watch a show without drawing or at the very least use subtitles so that my brain can actually focus and register what people are saying???

My entire family: um, yes??

Me: *demonic screeching*

[bigdikdaddyd69]

Ahhh peace.

[suvarnarekha]

if maths were food, everyday would be like karwachauth for me.