blog not real

temp muses by luker

[tapetuum]

this blog isn’t real!

just have you a baby sideblog to @hraunwyf

here i write some muses on a temporary or on-demand basis—as such, no, you’re not going to find any muse information pages, i will not be bothering with any sort of tag systems or headcanon posts or icons, i’m just going to write a few select muses on and off with my friends. in fact, if you’re reading this post without knowing what’s up already, i’m probably not worth your follow. 

to anyone who does know what’s up, here’s the roster, upon which i’ll also include all of my previous rp muses before i settled on the main girl:

the hell priest/”pinhead” (hellraiser)

daniel cain (re-animator)

phyla-vell (marvel 616)

amanda santos (marvel 616)

kill junior (marvel 616 oc—iykyk)

fuck there’s probably more i just can’t think of em rn

[tapetuum]

igavehimlxfe​:

Herbert was focused. He’d only let the basement whenever he had a shift at the hospital or he needed to shower. Food, sleep, unnecessary with a little bit of Re-Agent to put him back in the zone, so to speak. Tinkering with the formula had shown some remarkable differences, this chipmunk actually hadn’t tried to bite his finger off for an almost full minute after re-animation had begun.

Progress. It showed conscious response. There was always progress.

Herbert was now examining the chipmunk’s braincells under his microscope when finally, upon the third time his name was called.

He blinked a few times, pushing his glasses back onto his face before turning towards his partner. Ah. Right. It had been three days, give or take.

Well, he wasn’t going to stop now, not while he was getting so much done.

“Oh, right. I’ll be up in a minute Dan.” He turned back towards his microscope, already forgetting Dan had been there. He wasn’t hungry, so he didn’t want to eat. Dan could eat without him.

there is one perk to herbert's inattention, and it's that dan can roll his eyes as freely as he needs to. after a couple of years with the man he's learned that any promises of immediate action unrelated to the work are empty. it surprises him that they're still made at all.

"no, you won't." he's almost muttering to himself, and dan usually considers himself a patient man, but west could find a way to irritate a buddha. it's hardly the first time he's had to manhandle him into compliance, but he braces himself for the incoming fuss anyway as he maneuvers past tables and boxes to tug herbert's chair away from the table, not as gently as he really could.

"the re-agent can wait for thirty minutes so you can come upstairs, sit down at the table like a person, and have a crab cake."

he's caging herbert in with his arms, hands firmly on the chair's back at either side of the man's head. sometimes how much bigger he is than west really works out in his favor.

"dinner will get cold, the lab will still be here, and i made remoulade from scratch. so you're gonna get up and wash your hands and come eat. okay?"

[tapetuum]

@igavehimlxfe

“herbert?”

dan knows the utter futility of simply calling his name before the first syllable’s even complete. herbert is hardly ever on the ground floor, typically only there to sleep or shower; and even if he were there, neither situation really lends itself to getting an answer out of him. dan only holds out hope, sometimes, that for once he’ll cook dinner and his roommate will come up and sit down and eat with him, instead of continually packing the second portion away and realizing the leftovers are gone a few days later.

“herbert.”

there’s no point in raising his voice, either—he’s already heading back down the hallway, leaving a vague knock on herbert’s bedroom door out of habit. there’s the sharp, chemical smell of variation after variation on the re-agent, sterile equipment, cool metal. at least the change in temperature is a relief from the heat of the kitchen. dan’s not the best cook, but for his line of work? good enough.

“herbert.” he finally opens that last door, leaning in the frame, eyes searching out whatever west is up to tonight. could be in that damn mausoleum again... dan takes a breath, dish towel slung absently up over one shoulder. “will you come up and eat something? i don’t think i’ve even seen you in three days.”