#PuppetString

[salemsugarstarz]

Frozen Currents Anniversary

It’s the one year anniversary so uh ask anything within reason :3!

heres some recent art:

[fischlcatgirl]

i fucking love when a relationship is severely fucked up. and i think that the matter of scara's autonomy in the context of his relationship with nahida is INTERESTING AS FUCK. because he has been associated with two other archons before right and one of them abandoned him and the other one was his. boss basically.

so in both cases within that relationship there is a general perception of scara as an object or a tool. in ei's case he was. seen as a faulty tool but the point stands. in his betrayal backstories he is very often doing physical labor. he is kept around because he is useful. and so because that is the way he has spent basically his entire life being told that is how his life is going to be, he holds the belief that the only reason anyone associates with him at all is because they want something from him.

and i think there IS room there for a nahida who helps him heal from that. i think there is room for a nahida who sees him as a friend and affirms to him that they are friends and that she does not see him as some kind of errand boy.

however.

Nahida is god. and she is an exceptionally patient and forgiving god, but she is NOT practiced at friendship. she is not familiar with being in any sort of respectful relationship with anyone. She is LITERALLY an immortal little girl who was given all of the information in the world to entertain herself for five hundred years and she was LONELY. and now she has POWER.

i want you to look me dead in the eyes and tell me that if you were an inhuman creature made of knowledge with godlike powers in the body and, to a degree, mind of a preteen girl that you would not choose to tie yourself to the only boy your age you've ever met, the only person who you believe may ever have the ability to ever understand you.

because ive said it before and ill say it again but scara is nahidas nahida. she sees him in the same way she sees herself, lonely and betrayed by people who were meant to take care of him.

so there is such a real real real possibility that there is a nahida who, against anything he could ever want, takes his heart and eats it. who connects the two of them. because the thing is that in order for this relationship to really mean anything to scara there has to be a degree of freedom involved with the safety of a place to come back to, he has to know that he CAN leave and CHOOSE not to. being tethered to nahida would make him FUCKING MISERABLE.

and nahida KNOWS that, and knows that what she is doing is creating another cage. but she can't hear it over the idea of never being alone again.

RATTLING THE BARS OF MY CELL. NAHIDA SELFISH HOURS.

[fictionkinfessions]

OH OH SPOOKYNOODLE (creepypasta) FOLKS (+ anyone who sees this) this is a reminder!!!! Take care of yourself. Drink water and making sure you're getting enough to eat. Take breaks if you need it. Treat yourself. I love all of you /p :}

- your friend, #puppetstrings

frog

[queseraphita]

Fishing minigames is the most human thing one can do

i feel so denied not being able to use my legion arm as a fishing rod for a fishing minigame. i only get to fish puppets and those guys bite back :(

[phonydiaries]

Someone's Memory - Lies of P

Takes place during the opera house fight, apologies if I got some lore wrong but it was all done in the name of sadboys

No intended pairing but if you interpret or enjoy this as promeo/carmeo/any ship that’s cool and valid

Warnings: canon-typical violence with a sprinkle of weird robot gore for funsies

---

The glinting puppetstring of the legion shielded P’s eyes from the bright white burst which rippled through the wide open space of the opera house. A flash of heat singed the edges of his coat as his hand lowered and he peered through the billowing smoke. There, descended from his monstrous corpse of a throne stood Romeo, King of Puppets. 

He was somehow more and less regal than Pinocchio had expected- tall and imposing but with a Lear-like posture, as if he’d aged considerably. This was most conflicting, as upon closer inspection he was sure Romeo was a man, but only barely. The half of his face which remained unmarred by char and decay looked hardly older than a boy. This revelation stirred in the puppet an unexpected and unpleasant tightness in his chest, but there was no use in indulging it. He’d do what was expected of him, as he always did. The King’s reign would end here. 

The blade of Romeo’s scythe dragged languid across the floor as he advanced, leaving a faint scrawling along its glassy surface. He drew it slowly behind him and steadied his grip with both hands. 

“I have to kill you.” His voice buzzed, strangely resonant and far away, as if something inside him had broken. “There’s no other way.” 

At this P’s gaze narrowed. He’d sounded almost remorseful. What care did the king have if he lived or died? Was it merely his appearance? Perhaps he was only so moved as P had been at the thought of slaughtering something so convincingly human. Well, little good it would do him. 

His steps echoed in time with Romeo’s and the two watched each other like circling hawks through keen eyes. P’s shoulder flinched back as the blade of the scythe cut through smoky air, staking its claim at the puppets feet. Quickly, he turned on his heels, sidling up behind the king and winding up to strike his exposed back. But as he swung, the blade caught on the outer shell of Romeo’s forearm as he whipped himself around. Suddenly his good eye alit with an expression P couldn’t discern.

“Tricky…” The king said under his breath, the word holding some elusive weight as it left his lips. 

P’s blade slid across the armored limb with a ringing that cut through the air. Foolishly he made a cheap swing for the King’s head, but his opponent was swift and weaved his way out of range. There was no time for P to calculate his next move as Romeo charged for him, the staff of his scythe already flying. Reflexively, P met the weapon with the steel of his own, a resonant CLANG crying out around them. Through sheer force the puppet shoved Romeo’s blade away, forcing an opening just long enough to land a strike to the king’s torso. Romeo’s eyes twitched and flickered eerily between the blade piercing his chest and the face of the puppet that wielded it. 

A wave of fear crashed over P as he jerked the hilt of his weapon uselessly. The serrated edge had caught stubbornly in the King’s mechanized skeleton and refused to budge. Romeo closed a glimmering hand around the weapon and thrashed his body wildly to the side, the inertia throwing P to the floor unarmed. As he scrambled to stand, his back brushed the wall of the arena, still hot to the touch. He was cornered. He watched with unblinking eyes as Romeo seized the hilt, which jutted out from the meat of his shoulder at a strange angle, and ripped it with unfeeling carelessness from his body. He gave it a curious glance before letting the weapon clatter unceremoniously to the floor. 

P’s heart thrummed incessantly as the king met his gaze. Though the fresh wound sparked and smoked, there he stood hauntingly composed. Heat made the air about them grow thick, and auburn flames licked at the heels of the king as he stepped closer. His chin dipped solemnly as he raised the mighty scythe above his head. 

“There’s no other way.” He echoed gravely, fingers curling about his weapon in reluctant duty. His shoulders rolled back and as the blade reached its crest he froze. P’s arm was outstretched, the puppetstring held high, shielding his face. He stared at the unmoving king, puzzled. But as his eyes followed the stark path of the puppetstring’s tether, he discovered the arrowhead buried in the dead center of Romeo’s chest. Before P could blink, the king was dragged before him. 

The sudden closeness shocked him too much to flinch. He stared with a dumb, blank expression, his chest still rising and falling with a quickness at his narrowly-averted beheading. His nose was practically touching Romeo’s, and he squinted in response to the red flicker emanating from the king’s socket. It was then that something in Romeo’s face shifted, a strange softening of features, even those more grotesque, the exposed jawbone of his right half unclenching. His brow turned up and his good eye went foggy, as if suddenly overcome with emotion. 

“...Carlo?” 

The puppet string dislodged from Romeo’s chest with a horrible gnashing sound, ripping through layers of charred metal. With it was pulled a ruptured heart, still beating even half destroyed, in an arrhythmic dissonance. Bits of shrapnel clattered to the floor as the king’s head sunk low and lifeless into his chest. As his legs faltered, P reached out reflexively. He held the fallen puppet firmly and with as much grace as could be mustered, guided his body to rest against a pillar. The king wheezed and his head rolled lethargically against the pillar. The rest of his body went limp. P’s gaze flickered across the face of this puppet in sudden awe. So he’d known Carlo. How? And to what extent?

The king’s body shook with a shudder of a laugh. His speech was strained and yet held a sure and unexpected warmth, perhaps even longing. It was as if new depths previously unknown to even himself had been unlocked by this onslaught of memory. How ironic, the liveliness he knew only on his deathbed. 

P’s throat felt tight. He was sure this was the first time they had met, but it was clear to him now that this puppet- or something inside this puppet- had known the boy from the painting, and well enough that even as he lay dying, still held affections for him. He longed to know more, to hear of all the times they’d spent together. Oh, how he would listen with rapt attention, how he would ask to be told again and again until the retellings were as clear to him as memory. Just as they should’ve been from the start. 

“Carlo, My Carlo… I was sure I’d never see you again, not since-“ the king stopped himself, eyes suddenly twitching with something akin to fear. His gaze locked with Pinocchio’s and his brows knit hesitantly. “You do still know me, don’t you?” He asked. 

He did not know the king, but as he looked upon the poor man, crestfallen, a half crushed heart protruding from his open wound, it seemed horribly cruel to admit this. He conjured up the image of Carlo’s portrait in his mind and made mimic the best he could, imagining the way those lips may have curled and the way those eyes may have crinkled with fondness for this once beloved friend. He nodded assuredly at the king. It was a deception yes, but a kind one. 

“Of course I do.” He said, low and certain. He didn’t care much for words, truth be told. They filled his mouth in a way he found quite displeasing, and never seemed to fall quite the way he intended. But he was aware that Carlo had not shared this same distaste for conversation. 

At this, all the raw and jagged edges of Romeo’s face seemed to soften, awash with relief. This was interrupted quickly with -P could only assume- a sharp pain in the king's chest, which made him wince as he curled in on himself. His eyes squeezed shut momentarily and when he opened them again, he stared up at the ceiling. It was a curious thing, P observed, that he seemed to be looking through the ceiling rather than at it; straight through to a deep and starlit sky.

“Please tell me… do you know what comes after death? Have you felt it?” Asked the king, his gaze still wandering and foggy. This seemed too grand, too important a thing to lie about, and the question startled P. He shook his head apologetically, but the king seemed not to mind, preoccupied with the invisible solaris above him. He let out a sigh that sounded just as sad as it did pretty.

“Whatever it is that comes next, I admit I am afraid to see it alone.” Romeo spoke, the timbre of his voice faltering. 

At this P held an awful feeling in his chest, one of desolate hollowness, a kind of gnawing guilt taking root. He did not care for this at all. With a mind of caring servitude, P knelt before the king. Romeo’s gaze fell from the ceiling, meeting with that of his old friend. 

“Then I’ll stay with you.” P said simply. The corners of Romeo’s mouth lifted in a melancholic smile and he extended his weary hand. P clasped it tight and bowed his head. Romeo’s lids fluttered. 

“Thank you, Carlo.” He breathed. As his eyes gently closed, the inner machinations of the puppet droned to a halt. 

With the king’s hand still in his, P pressed the cold palm to his own cheek and tried to will a memory into place. If there was any part of him that held recollection of Romeo, he wanted desperately to know it. But nothing came. And so in the absence of fact, Pinocchio dreamt something up. He painted a tender scene in his mind, one in which Carlo and Romeo were only boys still, untouched by the world. He imagined them looking up at the stars bedded by cool grass, the world around them quiet and warm. 

As this invented memory faded, Pinocchio pressed a kiss into the palm of Romeo’s hand and folded it neatly against the fallen puppets heart. He wondered if king was a grand enough title to be remembered by, or if friend would be truer, nobler, far more fitting, simple as it was. He left the opera house heavier than he had found it. 

[knuffi516]

Confrontation (2)

Councilmember(1): You half-sister had breaking the cosmic order and she must face the consequences! Onyx: OK! To do what right is for your airheads! Buut, leave her essence untouched! She deserves a new life, unlike yours!! Councilmember(2): Guard you tounge boy! Order is order! Onyx: When a innocent girl dies and a father suffers so much thats he'd almost destroyed the world only to kick your ass, is called ORDER? The Merciful One: I'm sorry, but it's the flow of things. The strings of fate are attached on everything. Onyx: Another deity said, they're not puppetstrings, despite your efforts! We'll see us again, starpoopers!

[voyagerprobe]

being high is either being able to see the puppetstrings that control the entire universe or forgetting who the lorax is. sometimes at the same time.

[teapottroubles]

( Internally fighting back tears. Considering slowing down time in the cottage so he can rest. Really considering it. ) Please, take as long as you'd like dear.

( Currently getting the boy's soul read ) Would you like a place to sit down for a little while young one? You seem tired.

[straightouttherosebush]

𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚢𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝙿𝚃. 2

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓(s): BEN_Drowned, Sally Maryam-Dawn, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Ticci Toby

(I know Toby is no longer in the fandom but allow me to give my own interpretation of him :>)

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: Honestly the only noteworthy thing will be mentions of cult activity (EJ) and CSA (Sally). Not exactly Dead Dove material but they are mentions.

These are all HEADCANON and I do not intend for any of these interpretations to be entirely canon. These are how I see the characters and some rules of the world.

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚜

Aging in my Creepypasta universe works like this– unless you don’t completely have a physical form and died early, your body can only age until 25 years old. This is in place to make sure that the body is useful enough but also so that it’s easier for the pastas to get around. For those over this age, they stay at the age they currently are.

The mysterious haunted woods and the Slendermansion therein exist, but not many actually reside there permanently. If the pasta needs technology, is a proxy of Slender, or is willing to meet the requirements to stay, mainly being serving Slender, then they reside there. Other pastas visit but they either live in their own settlements in the woods, or they look and behave in a certain way that allows them to live among society.

Anybody listed as “Nonconforming Humanoid Entity” in regards to species just means that either they are/were human and  we don’t know what they are or that they were never human and… we still don’t know what they are.

Slender isn’t fatherly to anyone that he doesn’t need to be and is not afraid to take away privileges he has given the people who live under him. He is manipulative and crueler than hell itself. 

Creepypasta fans do exist in this universe. They can see you. :)

(I decided I'm adding these rules to every post)

𝙱𝙴𝙽_𝙳𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚎𝚍

Name: Benjamin Lee Ryder (Yes, I adopted the PuppetStrings headcanon) Age: Died at 12, but now he's 16-17 Species: Materialized Spirit Sex/Gender: Cis Male Sexuality: Bicurious/Questioning Race/Ethnicity: Irish-American Nationality: American, from somewhere on the Florida panhandle Religious Alignment: Agnostic Body Build: A little bit of an older Link looking build Features: Bleach blond hair (reminiscent of Link's in style), red eyes with black sclera, constant bloody tears run down his cheeks uncontrollably, pale almost blue looking skin, pointed elf ears. Aesthetic: Gamer nerd mixed with skater vibes here tbh

𝚂𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚊𝚖-𝙳𝚊𝚠𝚗

Name: Sally Maryam-Dawn Age: Age was frozen at 9, but she's at least 30-something in mind. Species: Partially Material Spirit Sex/Gender: Cis Female Sexuality: Aro-Ace or N/A (I think this because not only is she in the body of a child, but also she's a CSA victim, it's literally how she died. Even if she is an adult trapped in a kid's body, I feel this would apply whether she was an adult or not.) Race/Ethnicity: European-American Nationality: American, from somewhere on the Florida panhandle (Florida be wildin')(Also the BEN and Sally being related idea is not what I'm going for, they just both give the same vibe) Religious Alignment: Atheist Body Build: Just a well fed healthy little one :D Features: Long curly brown hair, pale skin, bright green eyes, blood eternally streaming down her forehead. Aesthetic: Really likes frilly feminine looking clothes

𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔

Name: Jackson Tyler Hemerson Age: 20 Species: Possessed Human (Possessed by Chernabog after the sacrifice) Sex/Gender: Cis Male Sexuality: Bi, male lean Race/Ethnicity: African-American Nationality: American, from a small town in Masschussets Religious Alignment: Agnostic (Bro knows that demons exist, that's for damn sure lmfao) Body Build: Not jacked but not even lanky looking. The nice middle ground :D Features: Mid-length dark brown dreads, eye sockets filled up with black tar and constantly dripping, grey-tinted dark skin, pointed ears, three different tongues and notably sharper teeth. Aesthetic: Lazy when it comes to clothes tbh. Not trashy, but his style is very simple.

𝙻𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔

Name: Jack (pretty much just jack lol) Age: Sources suggest that he's ageless, so I'll be keeping that. Species: Nonconforming Demonic Entity Sex/Gender: Agender Sexuality: Panromantic Asexual Race/Ethnicity: N/A, is not of human origin Nationality: European, but no exact origin point can be found. Religious Alignment: Atheist Body Build: Towering with lanky, long limbs and an overall skinny body. (not Slenderman towering, but you get the idea) Features: Shoulder length vantablack hair, pale white skin, greyish blue eyes, cone nose with black and white striped,black claws. Aesthetic: If clowncore is a thing then yes that's exactly what he is.

𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚌𝚒 𝚃𝚘𝚋𝚢

Name: Toby Erin Rodgers Age: 25 Species: Superhuman Sex/Gender: Cis Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Race/Ethnicity: European-American Nationality: American, from a small town in Colorado Religious Alignment: Atheist Body Build: A little bit built and has a healthy looking body type, save for all of the scars. Features: Dark brown hair, scars all over the body, cheek gash on his left cheek, pale skin, dark circles under eyes, hazel eyes. Aesthetic: Simple style, honestly whatever he can get his hands on will suffice.

♡MASTERLIST HERE♡

Ⓒ Written by Rosey, please do not copy/repost/translate.♡

[joelletwo]

hi hi hi hello. babygirl u and oboro are sharing one sad puppetstring do u know this.

[catsafarithewriter]

A/N: PART 30 of the Bedlam au!

X

The gargoyle unfolds its wings – the feathers scrape against one another, and Haru's ears are set ringing – and its profile catches the light for just a moment. Just for long enough for Haru to see a shadow of the crow it had once been.

"Toto?" she whispers, horrified. "Other Toto? What did the Bedlam do to you?"

"He wasn't happy, you know," says Other Toto, his beak unmoving and his voice marred by the stone. "Not happy that we let you escape. So he made sure we wouldn't again. I'm sorry about this, Haru."

Other Toto lunges at her, wings smacking down, and Haru throws herself along the ledge to avoid them. As the wings retreat, she sees a glimmer of silver string attached to the feathers.

"I'm sorry, Haru."

The wings slam her way again, but this time she has some forwarning. She swings out of its way. This time, looking for it, she sees that it is not a single string, but a whole web's worth.

"I would stop if I could!" Other Toto cries.

"Glad to hear it," Haru says, and the next time a wing comes for her, she lashes out for those threads. Her penknife goes clean through and the wing drops.

"Good aim!" Other Toto hollers.

The other wing is quicker to retreat after its attack. If the Bedlam hasn't easily restrung his puppet, perhaps he's reaching a limit. Or perhaps he has enough other plans in store, he doesn't see the point in restoring full control. Like a kid throwing away a broken toy. Either way, it's going to work in her favour.

The wing sweeps in for another beating, and Haru misses with the knife. She overreaches and she feels herself begin to fall.

She swings an arm out and catches the tip of the wing. A desperate grasp with her other hand, and her fingers find the puppetstring. The wing snaps upwards, as if to shake her off, but it only drags her up instead.

She makes a second thrash with the penknife the same moment her free hand grabs Other Toto's shoulder, and the second wing falls slack.

"If you cut all his strings, there'll be nothing left of him," the Bedlam's voice croons. "And I can't believe you'd want that, right?"

"Then prepared to be surprised," Haru growls, and with another swing, she slices through the rest of the threads holding Other Toto in place.

He falls limp immediately, like... well, a puppet with its strings cut.

She rolls the orb out of his mouth just as Other Toto begins to slide off the column. She feels herself slip with him, and it takes three attempts before the penknife punctures through the orb.

Toto springs out of it – real, and unbuttoned, and thankfully his normal Sanctuary size. "Haru, you shouldn't have–"

"Save now, lecture later!" Haru pleads.

"If you let go of the gargoyle, I can–"

"If I let go of him, he's gonna be smashed to smitherines!"

Toto's expression implies he doesn't really see the issue with this, but he grabs the stone statue with his talons, just as it begins to topple. "Haru, I'm not going to be able..." he strains. "It's too heavy to fly with..."

Haru drops down onto the ledge from before. "Can you at least slow his descent?" she begs. "Just enough so he makes it down in one piece?"

"Haru–"

"I'll wait here, I'll be fine." She hopes he can't see her shaking. "Please, Toto."

He eyes her beadily. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Trust me, so do I."

She watches as Toto attempts a controlled fall. It seems to take forever – a good sign, she supposes – but there's still a resounding crack when it meets the cobbles.

"Is he–?" she demands, as soon as Toto has returned to her.

"97%" he says. "It's as good as you were going to get." He hovers before her and dips a wing her way. "Hop on."

When she finally alights back on solid ground, the lifeless remains of Other Toto is indeed about 97% still there. It's only a foot, the delicate part of the heel, which has snapped off.

"It was trying to kick you off to your death," Toto reminds her as she slides off his back and kneels down beside the gargoyle.

"The Bedlam made him do it; he had no choice." Haru picks up the broken foot. It's a decidedly clean break. At least that's something. She leans over and snags up Baron's top hat, which both that and his cane she'd left at the pillar's base before attempting her ascent. As she tugs the silk ribbon free, she hears Toto make a sort of strangled sound.

"Relax," she berates. "Both you and I know he's got plenty of spares. Goodness knows he's lost his fair share on cases." She loops the ribbon around the foot and to the rest of the leg, pulling it tight and knotting it into place. "Consider this at least part of the payback for kicking me out of the Bureau the way he did."

Toto's next argument dies on his tongue. Haru takes this as confirmation she's not the only one disgruntled with Baron's methods.

Haru rises to her feet – admittedly with a slight stumble, hastily steadied with Toto's shoulder – and stares up at the column.

"Well," she says, once the vertigo of just looking at it has worn off, "that wasn't so bad now, was it?"

[salemsugarstarz]

don’t you just love your undead partner you make keep living despite the pain

[fischlcatgirl]

listen im having a great time writing my scara & nahida fic HOWEVER. i have realized that i dont know how to say "i think his skin is just fucking silicone" without it sounding soso silly. like IT MAKES SENSE. they have camera why cant they have sillicone. but also if i say "raiden makoto invented sillicone" its literally like. castor. what are you talking about. AND IT IS RELEVANT. BUT ALSO. i feel like then also it should come up more than it does. like nahida says "well how do you KNOW you made him" to ei and ei says "well hes made of silicone for one" but that would be an absolutely insane tangent to go off on and also. would a little bit have to ignore that scara is 500 years old. like did they have silicone is 1900 YES however did they have it in. 1400?? and to that i say um. i say uh.

silicone more like SILLYCONE

[fictionkinfessions]

Dubbing you all my spooky friends /pos kinda just wanted to let you know that you're all really awesome. I love seeing all of you around and pls remember to take care of yourself and stay safe

- your friend, #puppetstrings

🐸

[ksiezniczkadepresyjna]

"she keeps it pumping straight to my heart" nooo wayyyy i always thought it was "she keeps the puppetstring to my heart".........

[phonydiaries]

I'm ngl puppetstring is the only legion arm I would let touch me just bc it seems least likely to give me third degree burns or some kind of horrific infection or something