Starter Call For The Mike Muses! If You Dont Specify Muse, You Wont Get Anything.

starter call for the mike muses! if you don’t specify muse, you won’t get anything.

muses listed under the cut

rolf “riff lorton” lautmann

connor murphy

art donaldson (if you want a starter for art, please read this if you haven’t already, as i tend to set most art interactions post canon)

andrew “dodge” mason

johnathan robert “jack” twist, jr

arthur hartman

me when i decide to make a lyric webweave for art and patrick: i am A Genius

me when i realize making a lyric webweave means 1) picking the Best lyrics and 2) finding Good Pictures: i am no longer a genius

@trckstaer said ' you're not a spring chicken anymore. ' – Katniss to Finnick !

He knew that. He grinned at Katniss anyway. “What, are you saying I’m not pretty anymore?” That couldn’t be further from what she was saying and they both knew it, but Finnick could never pass up an opportunity to tease. “That’s low even for you, Everdeen.” He was still grinning. “I might have to tell Haymitch on you. Make him send you out to the fields or something.”

Alma likes Johanna. She likes all of her children, but she has a small soft spot for her ymbryne in training. Perhaps it is because they share same peculiarity. Perhaps it is because that sometimes, Johanna reminds Alma of herself. She doesn’t think she’ll ever truly know why. But she is fond of the young woman. And she is grateful to have another ymbryne around to help with the children. It makes things run just that much smoother, which is always nice.

Yes, it would. But such is the life of a peculiar. Lying and hiding is all most peculiar children have ever known. Alma herself never knew a life without it. It keeps them safe. And keeping the children safe is an ymbryne’s sole purpose in life. Johanna knows this.

Alma sighs just loud enough to be audible. “Unfortunately,” she says, fixing Johanna with a severe look, “we must. It is imperative that we keep the children safe, and to do that, we must lie. If that does not agree with you, Miss Nightingale, I suggest you find a different profession.”

@notefinal's a.lma p.eregrine sent: ❛ my dear, i think we can make this so much simpler if we agree not to lie to each other. what do you think? ❜

lying is the core of her person. remove her spine from her back and find thousands of lies tumbling from the wound. whether she looks the other directly in the eye or tugs at her sleeves, johanna has no problem in twisting the truth. it's the only way that she's kept herself safe. when a bird senses their predator, they don't hesitate in flying away. johanna's wings are the fibs that slips. does she even know how not to lie? she has the feeling miss peregrine wouldn't care for her truth anyway. she doesn't want to be an ymbryne, she wants to be free.

duty ties her down. guilt clips her wings. johanna curses her particularity behind closed doors ( that was still open---just a tad ). training to become an ymbryne was the only way to escape from him. she's only fallen into another trap. there are children of her own kind who need women like her. she has a duty. and yet, she wishes she didn't. she can't cook to save her own life. she doesn't know how to be a mother. she doesn't want to be trapped in the same day anymore.

curl is tucked behind her ear. ❝ i'm sure it is. ❞ not an agreement. not declining the offer, either. johanna's gaze slowly raises back to miss peregrine's, biting back a plead to escape. what kind of person would she be if she turned her back on her own kind? ( a runaway. the blood of one still flows through her veins. ) ❝ it would be much easier if we didn't have to lie. ❞

starter call for the mike muses! if you don’t specify muse, you won’t get anything.

muses listed under the cut

rolf “riff lorton” lautmann

connor murphy

art donaldson (if you want a starter for art, please read this if you haven’t already, as i tend to set most art interactions post canon)

andrew “dodge” mason

johnathan robert “jack” twist, jr

arthur hartman

He knows better, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to like it. When she and the others had gone to Auradon, he hadn’t expected them to come back so different. He hadn’t expected any of it. He doesn’t know what happened, but he’s heard stories. He doesn’t like them. He doesn’t think they’re true, and if they are, it means none of his friends are really his friends anymore. He doesn’t like that. He’s never liked that.

He stares at Evie for a while. She looks the same. She looks the same and yet she doesn’t at the same time. She looks happier, he thinks. That’s the part he can’t wrap his head around. How can she be happier over there? The Isle is shit, but Riff had thought anything was better than Auradon. “Well, get outta here, then. I don’t talk to Auradon kids.”

@notefinal : what are you doing ?  stop your pretending .

❝       it's       great       to       see       you       too,       riff.       ❞          her       head       hangs       low       transiently       as       words       leave       cherry       stained       lips,       despondence       evident       on       porcelain       features,       knowing       better       than       to       expect       a       wide       arm       welcome.       she       was       no       longer       a       girl       from       the       isle,       no       longer       one       of       them       :       how       naive       of       her,       thinking       none       of       it       would       matter.          ❝       you       know       me       better       than       to       believe       i'm       pretending,       ❞          knows it's       all       she's       ever       dreamt       of,          ❝       this       is       who       i       am       now.       ❞