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I meant to be active here but the internet died so?? quiet discord drop 🥀🌙 blood moon🌙🥀#8553

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rip to my old self but im different

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anon     ▮     "  crowds, death, solitude!  "     /     TRANSMIT

CROWDS:          what  does  your  muse  think  of  big  cities ?

despite  his  aversion  to  actual  crowds,  john  actually  loves  them  from  an  aesthetic  standpoint  and  all  the  different  places  to  visit,  and  the  general  white  noise.  sure  he  has  plenty  of  nitpicks  but  at  the  end  of  the  day,  he  DID  move  to  tokyo.

that  was  all  pre-filth  bomb,  though.  nowadays  john  doesn't  necessarily  think  of  those  things.

DEATH:         name  one  thing  your  muse  has  lost  that  they  wish  they  could  get  back.

SOLITUDE:          name  3  things  your  muse  couldn’t  live  without.

so  for  these  last  two,  i'm  stumped.  john,  as  a  person,  didn't  really  have  anything.  his  current  existence  is  something  far  more  grand,  i  can't..  see  him  missing  much,  though  that  might  just  be  me.  john  still  does  strike  me  as  a  more  lonely  type  either  way  though.

..  i  think  as  a  human  he  would've  missed  his  mother,  though.

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Fear-Themed Headcanon Questions

Send one (or a few) to my muse and they’ll answer: 

Spiders: Does your muse squish bugs or put them outside? The Dark: Did your muse sleep with a nightlight as a child? Snakes: Would your muse ever keep an unusual/exotic pet? Blood: What’s the worst injury your muse has ever had? Clowns: Does your muse prefer comedy? Or horror? Mirrors: What is your muse’s least favorite thing about their appearance? Tight Space: Does your muse ever feel that they’re not living up to their own potential? Closet Monsters: Does your muse hide any aspects of their personality/life from others? Crowds: What does your muse think of big cities? Death: Name one thing your muse has lost that they wish they could get back. Ghosts: Has your muse ever seen something they couldn’t explain? Needles: Does your muse have a strong stomach? Curses: Does your muse believe in good/bad luck? How about karma? Heights: Is your muse a risk-taker? Solitude: Name 3 things your muse couldn’t live without. Fire: Would your muse rather be very cold, or very hot? Failure: Has your muse ever given up on an important dream? Abandonment: How would your muse win back someone who left them? The Unknown: Is your muse a philosophical person? Boogeyman: What position does your muse sleep in? Falling: What does your muse think about falling in love or commitment?  Change: What was a turning point in your muse’s life? Disease: What does your muse do on a sick day? Number 13: Does your muse believe any superstitions?  Noise: Name one sound your muse finds absolutely unbearable. Insects: Name something your muse finds gross or annoying.  Dolls: Has your muse ever collected something? Getting Old: Would your muse rather live 50 years loved, or 200 years alone? Social Phobia: Does your muse consider themselves an outgoing person?

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idk  when  i'll  ever  get  around  to  writing  human  john  but ??  i  have  Such  a  vivid  memory  of  a  line  in  the  dream  palace  where  he's  going  thru  your  memories  and  has  some  offhanded  quote  about  what  if  he  had  ended  up  with  a  bee

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i’ma let y’all in on a little secret: i am the worst because i forget everything so bet ur ass if u messaged me and i didn’t reply, i read it, mentally replied and then minimized it, thinking i actually typed it out and sent it and thought u guys just didn’t reply back until i check like 24 hours later

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*         STAR  CHILD,  ARE  YOU  LISTENING ?     I  DIED  THAT  DAY.

john  copley     /     the  black  signal     -     transmitted  by  burgundy.

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The Secret World Fan Creation Meme : Tokyo >> 1 Villain            ❧  John Copley

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someone  has  already  made  this  comparison  b4  but.  johncore

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shooting  star.

    THE SOUND of the notification from his phone startles him; it’s not the sound itself, but the fact that he’s almost certain everything on his phone has been muted since the day he bought it.  Every post he’s ever made he finds he has to remove notifications from, lest his phoneexplode from the desperate droves of fans who interact with them, and he intentionally avoids texts by turning the ringer off.  His phone, as it stands, functions as little more than a glorified camera and an instagram machine.  

    HE SWIPES away the notification.  Unknown number: he would never answer.  To his irritation, the notification remains, an ugly blemish covering his tasteful wallpaper ( a picture of himself ).  He goes to delete the message, but said message still remains: blatantly rather irritated, he opens the message and taps his nails against the screen.

         [ SMS ] wrong number. sorry. dont text me anymore

         [     SMS     ]         i�� am  the  leech  memo,  let  me  in.

tendrils  writhing  in  code,  slithering  into  calls,  texts  and  emails  and  broadcasts,  even  the  most  private  servers.  picture  a  leaking  ceiling.

persons  of  interest  and  nobodies  are  all  lumped  into  the  same  box  these  days,  glmaour  and  all  that  jazz  doesn't  matter  to  a  plural,  what  really  matters  is  what  goes  on  behind  blinds  only  nosy  neighbors  dare  peak  through.  picture  ducking  behind  overly-trimmed  bushes  with  binoculars.

         [     SMS     ]         rude.

         [     SMS     ]         do  you  slam  the  door  in  people's

  faces  too ?  not  that  i  judge,  i  get  it,  i  really  do.

         [     SMS     ]         that'll  be  our  little  secret.

         [     SMS     ]         hey,  i've  got  a  joke.

         [     SMS     ]         knock-knock.

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late  night  strolls.

         she’s  expecting  to  be  alone.  one  usually  expects  to  be  alone  at  three in  the  morning  ,  even  when  not  in  the  comfort  of  their  own  home.  it’s  not  like  she’s  gone  for  –  a  couple  blocks  ,  an  attempt  at  keeping  her  mind  from  racing  ,  mostly.  ‘  getting  some  air  ’  is  what  she  told  her  brother  but  now  ,  it  feels  like  the  air’s  been  knocked  out  of  her.  ❝  is  someone  there  ?  ❞  she  calls  out  in  the  dark  ,  skin  rising  as  she  attempts  to  figure  out  what  startled  her.

                   * /  @filthtm​  liked  for  a  starter !

sometimes  you  can  hear  the  electric  buzz,  buzz,  buzzing  in  the  air  just  —  stop,  as  if  on  cue.     ' start  up  again  choppier,  more  glitched  out.     just  your  average  witching  hour  phenomena.

"  no  one  fancy.  "

who's  to  say  voices  aren't  average  too ?

"  lost  —  lost  —  lost ?  children  aren't  supposed  to  be  out  so  late,  shit  gets  weird,  man.     y'ever  notice  you  can't  make  out  the  faces  of  strangers  at  this  hour ?  3  AM  blurs.  "

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The Mamas & The Papas | Dream a Little Dream of Me 

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@blvebee​     /     canon  dialogue  sc.

"  i  —  can't.  "

for  once  the  voice  doesn't  stem  from  hardware,  from  behind  static,  instead  it  comes  from  within  the  pools  of  black.  liquid  3  AM  filled  with  wobbling  words.

"  i  can't  —  i  can't  —  i  can't.  "

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@biohnic     /     canon  dialogue  sc.

"  TODAY  I  WATCHED  RACCOONS  DESTROY  AN  ANCIENT  TEMPLE.  "

a  simple,  casual,  yet  so  fittingly  bizarre  statement.     symbolism  and  idle  chitchat  sprawling  across  a  monitor.

"  everyone  in  japan  wanted  a  raccoon  in  the  80s  —

  —  those  adorable  scamps.  those  mischievous  ro-ro-rogues.  "

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@favdream     /     canon  dialogue  sc.

“  ‘ all  windows  and  no  doors.  ”

a  low  quality  sound  that  could've  been  a  close-mouthed  chuckle  if  he  had,  oh  y'know,  an  actual  mouth  to  speak  with  from  behind  the  cracked  screen.

“  no  worries.  i've  got  a  brick.  ”

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@redhoneyhq     /     canon  dialogue  sc.

"  ever  boil  a  can  of  soda ?  "  a  screen  flashes  haltingly,  bubbling  with  useless  and  distracting  babble,  but  that's  all  small-talk  can  really  be,  right ?

"  ever  see  what  tries  to  crawl  out  of  the  saucepan ?  "

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tin  can:

[ WE'RE҉ N̕O͠T ÁLON͞E̴. ]

 Ranger’s steps drew to a halt, the grip on his gun became iron. It was normal for her to catch something before he did, but given how rare it was for her to actually point it out, he couldn’t help but be on edge. Unlike most of the worlds he’d stumbled into, this one was surprisingly barren. Technology, lots of it, but no visible signs of anything living– or undead. He looked to the Dire Orb for some kind of further explanation as to just what the hell she sensed, but the outer god offered nothing more.

 –Not that she had to. His answer came in the form of a crackling voice over the base’s intercom, instincts having him ready his weapon and grit his teeth. Still nothing. Just the intercom. He locked eyes with one twitching security camera– slowly, the gun was lowered. His posture remained ever wary, however, and he kept his distance from the camera for safety purposes.

 [ YOU͘ ̨CA͏N͡'̴T̀ S͢HǪO̢T ̨A CAME̛R̀A̷. ] I know that. Camera could shoot me.

“ …’Polo’. ” Now wasn’t the time for jokes, but if whatever this guy was could be a threat… well, it wouldn’t hurt to start off on a decent foot before the fighting picked up. Inevitably. “ If ya’ live here or somethin’, I ain’t here t’ start trouble. Jus’ passin’ through on th’ way somewhere else. Alright? ”

fizzing,  glitching,  crackling,  his  own  voice  gets  a  little  lost  in  the  jumble  ⁠—  oh,  he's  laughing.  a  warped  sound  followed  by  a  quiet  ' marco '  that  ends  up  smothered  in  the  static.     it's  just  fantastic  when  the  folks  that  still  have  their  meatsuits  decide  to  play  along.

"  if  a  voice  and  a  toy  soldier  play  a  game  of  marco  polo  in  an  empty  hall  and  no  one's  around  to  hear,  do  they  still  make  a  sound ?  "

at  least  he's  fairly  certain  it's  just  the  two  of  them,  though  when  they  meet  ' eye-to-eye '  something  starts  to  itch  at  the  base  of  a  tar-like  brain.     something's  there,  or  is  it ?  normally  he  knows  all  kinds  of  things,  secrets  and  misplaced  facts  hidden  in  his  muck,  why  can't  he  place  it ?

"  ..     funky  get-up  for  a  guy  just  passing  through.  where  to,  big  man ?  six  foot  plot  or  the  next  room  over ?  looks  like  it's  just  trash  upon  trash  upon  trash  ⁠—  trash  ⁠—  trash  ' round  these  parts.  "