the world is hollow

CONSPIRE: for our muses to hide with each other at a houseparty, sitting on the floor in a coat closet or bathroom.

HIGH: for our muses sit on top of a roof together, sharing a bottle of booze or a joint.

TRAP: for our muses to be stuck in an elevator alone together for several hours.

TRIP: our muses are on a roadtrip together and the car breaks down somewhere remote.

DARK: our muses spend the night in a haunted location trying to hunt ghosts.

TASTE: our muses share a cigarette on a swing set in an empty park.

EARLY: our muses spend all night at the beach until sunrise.

LATE: our muses are camping in the mountains together but hear noises outside their tent at midnight.

BALL: our muses dance together at a masquerade, not knowing the other's identity until the party is over.

SETUP: our muses have mutual friends who set them up on a blind date at an ice cream parlor.

FREE: our muses sneak into a skating rink together while its closed.

REALIZE: our muses are in an abandoned amusement park but discover a crime scene.

ACCIDENT: our muses hook up in a library but accidentally stay after its been closed and are locked in for the night.

PAINT: one muse goes to an art class and is surprised to find the other is the model for the day.

DISCOVERY: our muses are in a graveyard and find an emptied grave.

STUCK: our muses haven't seen each other in years and are assigned to the same room in a hostel.

Merry Christmas everyone!

If you can't draw your faves in pinup-adjacent poses then what is the fucking point

To: @sunsale From: @bybyleth

The detective yelps at the sudden grab. Part of him immediately wants to shove the prosecutor away, but would that only incite more fury? Violence is the last thing he wants. So there Fulbright stood, frantically trying to think of how to deescalate the situation.

Simon Blackquill wasn't told about him, that much is obvious. Having read the court transcripts, it's also clear how much the Phantom manipulated the other. So now here Simon is, faced with an individual who looks exactly like his manipulator.

What does Fulbright do to gain the trust of someone who has every reason not to trust him?

...If only he were better equipped mentally to deal with such a scenario. Fulbright can't stand this. Being looked at, like... like someone's just seen a phantom ghost. A monster. This is already by far the worst it has been, but the prosecutor isn't unique in his discomfort! Former "friends" of the detective's acting off in his presence, for instance... Then again, none of them were close friends, were they?

Because, evidently, no one in his life knew him well enough to notice that anything was wrong. He was gone, but the world kept spinning like nothing had changed. One cannot understate the nightmare he awoke to.

"Bobby Fulbright" was no longer a symbol of justice.

Everything about his image had become tainted.

Stained with blood--

In that moment, as his thoughts continued to spiral, something slipped.

"...It is a joke, isn't it?"

Fulbright's tone was...

"Sure would make everything less complicated if I were laying dead in a ditch somewhere, wouldn't it?"

Sarcastic. Bitter.

Not at all like himself. However... nothing like the Phantom's impression of him, either. This is new. Different.

After a beat, it occurs to the detective that this cannot be helping. What is he saying!? Deescalate, you fool!

it isn't funny - or it shouldn't be - but at the same time, it is. the words are so unlike bobby fulbright - the bobby fulbright that simon knows; a falsehood - that they snap him out of his rage almost immediately. that sort of acidity is something he's never seen from this face, and before he knows it, simon's grip on his collar is loosening.

that fearful look isn't helping either.

it takes him a long moment to move, his eyes trailing over fulbright's face, searching for any signs that his emotions aren't true - searching for any cracks in his mask. is it more or less of a comfort that he finds nothing? he can't say. but, at least, that cursory examination lets him step back.

he won't apologize, but ...

" hmph. no, it would seem a conversation with the chief is in order. " simon's anger isn't directed at fulbright. it never really has been. hopefully that's evident enough, because he won't be saying it so bluntly. ( it still feels so wrong to be honest and open with that face. )

This... Was...?

This... was...

Slowly, her eyes opened, staring into the dark expanse. The sky was alive with millions of stars... But no. Those weren't stars. Upon closer inspection, she could see they were fragments of crystalline glass, floating in an endless ocean.

The girl carefully sat up, a hand coming to her head. "What happened...?" Her voice felt foreign, cracked from sleep—or death.

That's right. Rena had died. She had been killed by someone—or something— with everyone else in the club. Hinamizawa was gone, set to sink below a dam's waters. The swamp of demons would return.

So where was she now? Was this Hell? Heaven? Or was she in some sort of purgatory?

She turned her head, red hair sliding along her shoulders. Deep blue eyes widen in fright upon witnessing—

The Furude Shrine, floating upside down in mid-air. And before it, a strange girl with horns. Without even thinking, Rena scrambled back, a gasp ripped from her throat like that of a terrified prey animal.

if there ever were to be a ' typical response ' to seeing her, hanyuu assumes it would be something like this. fear. but, truly she doesn't blame poor rena, after all she just went through. it's only natural to be scared in this situation, regardless of what you see-- though she's sure her horns aren't helping.

oh — blackquill had picked up on that hesitation he had tried so hard to kick to the side? nevermind, it wasn't like phoenix was going to delve into that right this second, or if he had it his way, any other time.

it would reaaaaaaaaaaaally help if blackquill turned off his psychoanalytical mind while he's at it too. if I wanted to talk about this I would've kept my up my therapist appointments.

" life does nothing but teach us whether we wanted the help in that way or not. " after all, had life not taught him to mature after the poison incident there's every possibility blackquill wouldn't be here having this conversation with him. " maybe us being grateful towards the experience helps us accept and heal whatever it is we've been through. "

accept and heal. simon's countenance turns more somber, if such a thing is even possible. should he be grateful to any of this? does he want to be? does he want to accept and heal? such a question seems ridiculous, but simon had never expected to even have the opportunity to do so. he doesn't know what to do with himself now that it's apparently fallen into his lap.

he doesn't say anything while wright tends to his other wrist, still mulling over healing. the scars from the shackles are probably going to stick with him forever, even after this wound fades. even if he lets himself heal, there's no going back to the unblemished man he once was.

simon opens and closes his hand, his fingers twitching in defiance. it's always like this after a shock - it'll probably be a little longer before his nerves get with the program.

( so much for focus. his attempt to distract wright has already been abandoned. )

To: @krowmanticism From: @ayellowapple

" ... i hate it when you're right. "

giving simon such an ego boost probably wasn't apollo's best idea but what else did they have to go on? the longer they stayed here, the less time they had to grab this guy and get evidence. the attorney lets out a loud huff of air, sharp brows scrunched as he heads for a set or drawers. tests each and every one of them 'til one produces a piece of paper. picking it up, he reads: "A word I know, six letters it contains, remove one letter and 12 remains. What is it?"

" it's little wonder, then, that you're so constantly bitter. " spoken with a little smirk, because simon is nothing if not a bastard. if apollo wants to boost his ego, he'll let it be known that his ego is boosted. but he isn't a complete dunce, either, and once the moment has passed the prosecutor is back to focusing on their predicament. six letters it contains, remove one letter and twelve remains.

he hums, doing some counting on his fingers - a word is five, twelve is six ... twelve being in the present tense is odd, so he can't help but fixate on that--

" ah! dozens! remove the s and twelve remain. " he looks almost childishly pleased with himself to come to that conclusion, though afterwards he can't help but puzzle, " what are we meant to do with that information? " he starts glancing around the room. twelve objects, perhaps?

To: @miragedmoon From: @applepi1101