trulyhorrible-blog1 - Tumblr blog

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

Send me a ▲ for my muse's reaction to yours:

(You can find a random generator here. Or send the number of your choosing instead.)

attack hugging them

falling asleep on or next to them

giving them the best back massage they’ve ever had

holding their hand for the first time

hugging them from behind when they weren’t expecting it

hugging them way too tightly

kissing their forehead or cheek

kissing their neck

kissing them softly on the lips

playfully whacking them with a pillow

sneaking up behind them and blowing a raspberry on their neck

surprise kissing them

telling them they love them for the first time

tickling them

waking them up by holding them and playing with their hair

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

Send me “Ring, Ring!” for what name and ringtone my muse would use for yours in their phone.

Bonus: I’ll also tell you the last message(if any) sent to your muse from mine.

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

If you want a horrible villain name, talk to Moist. His power is just making things slightly damp. His lip curled a bit into a defensive sneer at Arabelle’s obvious attempt at trying not to laugh at him and he sighed, turning his head away with his eyes tightly shut. It was almost as if he was trying to keep from snapping at her. Points for trying, at least.

“Vaporization...no. Not yet, at least. I’ve built things that can freeze time and transport objects from place to place, but they weren’t initially meant to kill people. Though one of my inventions did have some...unintended consequences.” He swallowed a lump in his throat at the memory and for a moment, his expression lost the fire and defensiveness, his brow furrowed and his sneer fell to a tired frown as a sigh left him.

“...If I had the materials, we could do that,” he said tiredly. “And I’m still new to this place, remember? I don’t have a lab yet. We’d have to settle for my bedroom and whatever junk we can take to build the robot with.”

trulyhorrible:

“Well, I’ve never really been good at physical fighting…and to be honest, after being so…grossly disadvantaged I don’t really want to learn. There’s no point.” He was forever a brains over brawn kind of guy, if only because he was such a perfect antithesis to that corporate tool back in L.A.

His lip curled a bit at her rough description of him as a ‘science guy’, feeling he was a little more than just some tech stooge at an IT desk somewhere, but he tried not to get too offended. 

Okay, well, he’d get a little offended at the ‘geek’ term.

“Uh, I’m not a tech geek. I’m an evil scientist. My name is Dr. Horrible.” He straightened his back, lifting his head up somewhat with robotic pride at his villainous title and all of the implications behind it. Mass mayhem, destruction, a cool lab coat. Being a supervillain was great.

“And in terms of ‘sciency things’ I do, I specialize in mechanical weapons of mass destruction, but I can build many other things too.”

Arabelle puffed out her cheeks and pressed a finger to her lips, trying to hold in a horrible guffaw at his introduction.  Dr. Horrible?  Was he serious?  That was, like, easily the worst super villain name she’d ever heard.  To each their own, she supposed.  She felt bad that she’d clearly hurt his feelings with her earlier comments and tried to choked down the laugh.

“Okay, okay I can get that.  If you can build weapons of mass destruction that can vaporize someone in a second then you don’t need to know how to fight.”  She nodded in an understanding manner, completely getting where he was coming from.  “However, counterpoint, what if you built a giant robot to rampage through the city that just so happened to know martial arts.  Would that be cool or what?  Of course, you’d need to know martial arts to program the robot.”

She paused, her eyes widening at her discovery.  “Or!  I can teach the robot martial arts.  You can build the coolest, biggest, most rampaging-est robot ever.”  Arabelle began to gesture wildly, a plan clearly formulating in her mind.  “Yes!  Who’d dare try to stop a robot that knows multiple Jumeok techniques!”

“Together we could take over Eternity, aha!”  She’d lost herself in this fantasy and it was clear she didn’t plan on coming back anytime soon.  “Alright Dr. Horrible!  Take me to your lab!”

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

“200 years? That means...you were, eh...forged? Is that some old-fashioned way of saying born? Whatever, I don’t care. So that would mean you were born in the 1670s...But you don’t look that much older than a teenager. Is that a superpower?”

He blinked at Kashuu’s line of questioning, flipping the microphone over in his hand a couple of times as he watched it. “Yes, thank you for reiterating what I just asked and went over, I’d nearly forgotten my train of thought.” Wow, sarcasm. That’s original.

“Microphones aren’t that advanced. The first one was invented circa 1876 by Emile Berliner. Since then, technology has branched out in every possibly direction and more impressive things than a simple device that translates soundwaves into transferable signals..” Doctor, your geek is showing.

He picked up the microphone again and held it out for Kashuu to take, shrugging. “You can try it, if you want, but as far as I can tell it isn’t hooked up to any form of speaker. You wouldn’t be doing anything but talking into a broken device without the sound having a place to come back out of. Which begs the question, why give me this in the first place if it can’t even be used properly? It makes no sense, and is completely illogical.”

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

“Microphones aren’t that advanced. The first one was invented circa 1876 by Emile Berliner. Since then, technology has branched out in every possibly direction and more impressive things than a simple device that translates soundwaves into transferable signals..” Doctor, your geek is showing.

He picked up the microphone again and held it out for Kashuu to take, shrugging. “You can try it, if you want, but as far as I can tell it isn’t hooked up to any form of speaker. You wouldn’t be doing anything but talking into a broken device without the sound having a place to come back out of. Which begs the question, why give me this in the first place if it can’t even be used properly? It makes no sense, and is completely illogical.”

     “…” What kind of person didn’t know what a microphone was? However, the news that Kashuu didn’t get one eases him a little bit. A bit embarrassed by his paranoia, he glanced back at the object and promptly…tossed it down beside himself. He wasn’t just brandishing that like a club, no. It was always there.

     “A coupon for ‘new pretty things’? What does that mean?” Pretty things meaning…stage costumes? That wasn’t fair! All he got was a microphone, and looks were half the show! They were giving out unfair advantages for this competition, the nerve! 

     It occurred to him that he might have to answer Kashuu’s question about the tool beside him. Ugh.

     “…Microphones are used to amplify one’s voice. They’re hooked up to speakers, a-and when you talk or sing into one, it makes your voice project over long distances.” There, that’s the fastest way to explain.

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

“Well, I’ve never really been good at physical fighting...and to be honest, after being so...grossly disadvantaged I don’t really want to learn. There’s no point.” He was forever a brains over brawn kind of guy, if only because he was such a perfect antithesis to that corporate tool back in L.A.

His lip curled a bit at her rough description of him as a ‘science guy’, feeling he was a little more than just some tech stooge at an IT desk somewhere, but he tried not to get too offended. 

Okay, well, he’d get a little offended at the ‘geek’ term.

“Uh, I’m not a tech geek. I’m an evil scientist. My name is Dr. Horrible.” He straightened his back, lifting his head up somewhat with robotic pride at his villainous title and all of the implications behind it. Mass mayhem, destruction, a cool lab coat. Being a supervillain was great.

“And in terms of ‘sciency things’ I do, I specialize in mechanical weapons of mass destruction, but I can build many other things too.”

trulyhorrible:

     Whoa there friend you better slow down. The Doctor’s reflexes are fast enough that he can lean back away from the foot as it hurtled toward him, resulting in an awkward slight backbend with his eyes wide and focused on the point of her toe. 

     “…W-Well, my bad then–” he wheezed a bit nervously. He’s used to people beating him senseless but never little girls who looked like they belong in middle school, so it was natural he was caught off guard. When she lowered her foot he backed off a good six inches, wanting to give himself plenty of room to properly duck should she try that again.

     … Oh, so she was a bit like him then. Though his brand of ‘overreacting’, of late, normally involved the perpetrator finding a Death Ray pointed at their skull and a maniacal laugh in their ear. Speaking of the laugh, he gave a hollow attempt at it. It was more like a little chuckle of slightly angered confusion than an evil laugh.

     “Your reflexes are really good.” 

“Ah, thanks.  I’ve honed them over the years.  I’m proficient in seven different fighting styles, although Irish bare-knuckle boxing is my favorite.”  She nodded, not bothering to elaborate.  Instead she turned her attention to his obvious lack of reflexes – she was worried of course, she didn’t know many people who wouldn’t have made at least a small effort to smack her back.  “But you should’ve totally thrown me on the ground!  You’re, like, nearly a foot taller than me!  Yeah, see, you should’ve grabbed my foot and twisted it while pushing me down to roll my onto my back.

“It would’ve knocked the wind out of me and you’d have a perfect escape!  Although…”  Her attention finally turned to his attire; she nodded to herself as she inspected him.  “Okay, I got it.  The lab coat and goggles.  Boots.  You’re a…science guy.  I have a friend who’s like that too, although even she was well versed enough in defensive techniques that she would’ve smacked me out of the air as well.”

Arabelle’s eyes wandered back up until they met his and she clicked her tongue.  “You gotta do something about that.  What kinda science-y things do you do then, huh?  You strike me as a technomancer– er, maybe not a mancer per se, but definitely a tech geek.”  She paused her never ending prattling to take a breath.

“Oh yeah!  I’m Arabelle by the way.  A pleasure to make your acquaintance, techy.”

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

     Whoa there friend you better slow down. The Doctor’s reflexes are fast enough that he can lean back away from the foot as it hurtled toward him, resulting in an awkward slight backbend with his eyes wide and focused on the point of her toe. 

     “...W-Well, my bad then--” he wheezed a bit nervously. He’s used to people beating him senseless but never little girls who looked like they belong in middle school, so it was natural he was caught off guard. When she lowered her foot he backed off a good six inches, wanting to give himself plenty of room to properly duck should she try that again.

     ... Oh, so she was a bit like him then. Though his brand of ‘overreacting’, of late, normally involved the perpetrator finding a Death Ray pointed at their skull and a maniacal laugh in their ear. Speaking of the laugh, he gave a hollow attempt at it. It was more like a little chuckle of slightly angered confusion than an evil laugh.

     “Your reflexes are really good.” 

trulyhorrible:

@vampyriical liked for a starter

     There were worse places to be, he figured. Standing alone near one of the precarious cliff edges of the Core, looking out at a carpet of clouds backed by a golden sky, the Doctor decided, yeah, this could be worse. He’d been in stranger situations, after all. 

     Looking around, it occurred to the villain that he had been standing here contemplating how the city was so high in the air for a while. Sure, spitting in the eye of gravity was something worth spending hours and hours of mental calculations on, but he should really poke around. Spinning about on the heel of one nicely polished boot, he cast a cold gaze around the immediate area and, seeing no one, strode back towards the relative shelter of the Core’s town.

     Sunlight glinted off of the black lenses of his goggles and he narrowed his eyes, the glare distracting him for a moment. He turned his back to the sun and sought shelter in one of the open buildings, muttering to himself about the measurements of light, of the visible spectrum and if this sun was any different from the sun that beat down on Los Angeles. “If so, maybe I could run some tests, see what benefits there are to this light..” 

     So caught up was he in his musings he didn’t realize he was walking into anyone until the moment of collision–A startled noise, similar to that of a dog’s yelp, escaped him as he stumbled into a younger girl from behind. His villainous facade dropped for the briefest second, a pleading little voice escaping him–

     “Oh, God I didn’t see you there, m-my bad–”

“Maurice you need to stop being so picky.  We’re dead, so it’s not like what you’re eating even matters.”  She sighed wearily as she ripped another strawberry up, passing the small bits to the rat perched in her pocket.  “My hands are all sticky now, no thanks to you.”  Arabelle licked her hands and rubbed them together to get rid of the feeling.  Clicking her tongue, she picked up her grocery bag once more and continued their walk.

While she didn’t personally eat herself, her pet constantly forced her to make trips to the store for various food items – particularly strawberries – and seemed adamant on draining her funds.  “Next time we’re getting the cheap strawberries, no more organic stuff.  It’s pointless!  I doubt it’s even organ–”  The moment she felt someone bump into her from behind she whipped around, a back pivot kick already in motion.

She managed to stop her foot before it clocked the man behind her in the chin; it hovered dangerously in the air next to his face.  After deciding he wasn’t an immediate threat – that apology was kinda cute – she let her leg drop to the ground.  Offering him a serene smile (as if she hadn’t just attempted to knock his block off) she waved her hand slightly.

“Oh, no.  It’s fine.  You just scared me is all.  I, uh, hope I didn’t scare you too much back.  I tend to overreact to people touching me unexpectedly.”  She chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck in a rather sheepish manner.

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

     “...” What kind of person didn’t know what a microphone was? However, the news that Kashuu didn’t get one eases him a little bit. A bit embarrassed by his paranoia, he glanced back at the object and promptly...tossed it down beside himself. He wasn’t just brandishing that like a club, no. It was always there.

     “A coupon for ‘new pretty things’? What does that mean?” Pretty things meaning...stage costumes? That wasn’t fair! All he got was a microphone, and looks were half the show! They were giving out unfair advantages for this competition, the nerve! 

     It occurred to him that he might have to answer Kashuu’s question about the tool beside him. Ugh.

     “...Microphones are used to amplify one’s voice. They’re hooked up to speakers, a-and when you talk or sing into one, it makes your voice project over long distances.” There, that’s the fastest way to explain.

@kawanoshita liked for a starter

     The Doctor was not wearing his goggles for once. The cumbersome black accessory dangled from the curl of one hand as he flipped his microphone with a sick flame pattern about in the other. It was taking all of his self-control not to actually sing into it, even though it didn’t appear to be attached to anything. Wireless microphones were indefinitely a thing, though, and until he determined where the sound would be coming out of he refused to so much as breathe into the device.

     “Why give me a microphone of all things? If anything, give me some wonderflonium so I can get some work done. I doubt this place has any stocks of that though..” Or maybe everyone got a microphone upon entry, which led him down the slightly illogical path of ‘we’ve all been kidnapped by karaoke freaks and are going to be forced into a competition like the Hunger Games except with singing’. The thought disturbed him a little more than he liked to admit. Sure, he enjoyed singing…sometimes. Mostly at home, or in the shower, or on dark street corners while stalking certain people on dates with certain people, but that was a long time ago. He thinks. But he certainly didn’t want to compete with anyone in singing.

     Maybe he should ask around and try to verify his conspiracy theory before letting his thoughts wander down that road any more. Ahem. Anyways.

     Making a vow to himself to hail down the first person he happens across, the Doctor slips his goggles back on, grips his microphone like a sword, and sets off in a West-ish direction, spotting someone before too long. Thank god, he almost had to walk a long distance.

     “Hey, you there–you got something when you arrived here, right?” He asked, holding his microphone up as an example. “Did it look like this, and was it in any way a device used in singing competitions?”

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

@kawanoshita liked for a starter

     The Doctor was not wearing his goggles for once. The cumbersome black accessory dangled from the curl of one hand as he flipped his microphone with a sick flame pattern about in the other. It was taking all of his self-control not to actually sing into it, even though it didn’t appear to be attached to anything. Wireless microphones were indefinitely a thing, though, and until he determined where the sound would be coming out of he refused to so much as breathe into the device.

     “Why give me a microphone of all things? If anything, give me some wonderflonium so I can get some work done. I doubt this place has any stocks of that though..” Or maybe everyone got a microphone upon entry, which led him down the slightly illogical path of ‘we’ve all been kidnapped by karaoke freaks and are going to be forced into a competition like the Hunger Games except with singing’. The thought disturbed him a little more than he liked to admit. Sure, he enjoyed singing...sometimes. Mostly at home, or in the shower, or on dark street corners while stalking certain people on dates with certain people, but that was a long time ago. He thinks. But he certainly didn’t want to compete with anyone in singing.

     Maybe he should ask around and try to verify his conspiracy theory before letting his thoughts wander down that road any more. Ahem. Anyways.

     Making a vow to himself to hail down the first person he happens across, the Doctor slips his goggles back on, grips his microphone like a sword, and sets off in a West-ish direction, spotting someone before too long. Thank god, he almost had to walk a long distance.

     “Hey, you there--you got something when you arrived here, right?” He asked, holding his microphone up as an example. “Did it look like this, and was it in any way a device used in singing competitions?”

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

@vampyriical liked for a starter

     There were worse places to be, he figured. Standing alone near one of the precarious cliff edges of the Core, looking out at a carpet of clouds backed by a golden sky, the Doctor decided, yeah, this could be worse. He’d been in stranger situations, after all. 

     Looking around, it occurred to the villain that he had been standing here contemplating how the city was so high in the air for a while. Sure, spitting in the eye of gravity was something worth spending hours and hours of mental calculations on, but he should really poke around. Spinning about on the heel of one nicely polished boot, he cast a cold gaze around the immediate area and, seeing no one, strode back towards the relative shelter of the Core’s town.

     Sunlight glinted off of the black lenses of his goggles and he narrowed his eyes, the glare distracting him for a moment. He turned his back to the sun and sought shelter in one of the open buildings, muttering to himself about the measurements of light, of the visible spectrum and if this sun was any different from the sun that beat down on Los Angeles. “If so, maybe I could run some tests, see what benefits there are to this light..” 

     So caught up was he in his musings he didn’t realize he was walking into anyone until the moment of collision--A startled noise, similar to that of a dog’s yelp, escaped him as he stumbled into a younger girl from behind. His villainous facade dropped for the briefest second, a pleading little voice escaping him--

     “Oh, God I didn’t see you there, m-my bad--”

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

Ugh, Super Bowl weekend was hell. Also I have Into the Woods songs stuck in my head send h e l p.

Anyways, sorry for the delay on the starters I owe, I’ll get right on those right away!

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

Hello! I’m Nep (but Sharky, Chili, or CD works too) and I’m really excited to be back! I'm good with any pronouns but most people use her/she with me so if you don't want to play a guessing game those are perfect! 

If you want to plot threads or just talk, feel free to IM me or send me an ask, I love talking to people. ;w;

Also, like for a starter! I'll cap at 3 to get warmed up and because it's getting kinda late here.

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

The reaction the Doctor had to Bill speaking was, in a word, remarkable. The doctor’s eyes flew open, momentarily losing their despair in shock as he leans back, staring below the entity’s eye at where the mouth should be. “W-What the--” How was it speaking? His mind momentarily flatlined as he stared at the demon, curling his gloved fingers around the paper plane, lightly crinkling the object as everything caught up to him.

“Who are--” When it clicks what Bill had said he again has to stop, shaking his head as his expression darkened. Guilty conscience? How does it know that? A memory clicked briefly through his mind, an image he had seen in the depths of so many late nights, of his Penny lying broken on the floor, the screams of the audience fading through the open doorway. His fault, my fault, our fault.

“...Hn.” He gave an indecisive noise in place of an answer, his back straightening as he stared at the demon. Just keep calm, Doc. Don’t let it show. 

“My conscience would be waterlogged if I actually cared enough to feel guilty of all my evil doings,” he said with a tone of satisfaction. He was, after all, a supervillain and he should have some pride for his work, even if it was hollow. “I am Dr. Horrible, affiliate of the Evil League of Evil. I hold a PhD in Horribleness.” That’ll impress him.

We Aren’t in Cali Anymore

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

I’ve had a blast RPing at Ama! This was my first RP group on tumblr and I really had fun interacting with all the different muns and characters for a little bit. Since there are others still sticking around I think I will too! And if Ama comes back different, theeeeen I guess I’ll just relaunch Dr. Horrible however I need to. And for everyone deciding to close up shop, thanks for the fun!

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

Scars

@nicawlette liked for a starter

    “Nicolette, right? Huh. You’re one of the most human people I’ve seen here.” Not that that could necessarily be taken as a compliment. In fact, coming from the Doctor, it was borderline condemnation. 

     He doesn’t bother giving his name unless she asked as the supervillain leans back, folding his arms and struggling to keep his snide grin intact. The girl before him had intrigued the villain for a number of reasons, one being the aforementioned surprisingly human appearance, and another being the scars. How could a person be so bold as to show things like that off?

     As he makes a point to take a half-step back, pulling down his sleeves and up his collar to cover any marks on his own person, he can’t quite understand it. He had his fair share of beatings in the past, anything from atomic wedgies by the dumpsters to having SUV’s hurled straight at his head and more, and several of those unfortunate encounters left him with physical and mental scarring. Things he had learned to hide or try to conceal behind a lab coat and goggles and the relative safety of a webcam, and his own tendency to hide them made him curious as to why others just didn’t. 

     "Are the monsters here that bad?” he asked, bright blue eyes flickering vaguely to the four scars beneath one eye. Could be he was just overthinking this too, and maybe it was simply the world that caused such damage.

[trulyhorrible-blog1]

Hn...Sorry for inactivity! I’ve been super busy this past week or so and haven't really had time for RP. I think I have an owed thread so I'll get to that today, and if you want a short starter please like this post! And if you'd also like to plot, please leave me a message! Thank you!

[trulyhorrible-blog1]