Shielding Your Eyes From The Bright Noon-light : Studies. - Tumblr Posts

Shiver’s on the brain so old headcanons time! ( most were before sp.lat 3′s release but shhh )

― they/them, trans ( male to nonbinary, specifically somewhere in the genderfluid territory ) . Hatching place is the splatlands as most of their clan has been for most of both their specific family’s bloodline & many other octolings involved.

― met Bigman prior to Frye, who they encountered the latter of when she heard their at the time very work-in-process music ( a lot of vocalization that was mixed by Bigman, generally Shiver experimenting with the sound they were raised on and seeing where they could take it ) and absolutely loved the sound. With Frye’s never-ending passion, Bigman’s technical skills, and all of them collectively always bringing new sounds and patterns to the table created the trio you see today <3

― Shiver is regarded as a very intense & incredibly stubborn individual. Once they’ve made up their mind firmly on something they genuinely believe it’s incredibly difficult to just shove them out of it. It’s due to them just being a very dedicated, hardworking, self restrained & honest to a fault individual which can make them very difficult to work with. they will stick to who they are rather than who others want them to be to any end, and while by no means do they consider themselves above criticism or fault, they take themselves and their work very seriously and behave as such.

― notoriously difficult to get in direct contact with, especially in the public space. Bigman tends to be the easiest and therefore often used as a gateway of sorts to get in contact with Shiver. This is in part because of how focused they can get with their work & because they’re very reluctant to collab with most. The latter of which is because of A) not wanting to put their name on something they don’t truly believe in or like, and B) Shiver has a Thing about ‘riding other peoples coattails’. They’re an extremely hardworking person who takes a lot of pride in their music and really anything they put their effort & time into and wants what recognition given to be earned by their work, not gleaned simply from riding on the backs of other people. which can lead to them being somewhat controlling regarding whom they engage with and the lack of availability getting in touch with them as a kind of ‘show me how much you want it’ gesture on their behalf, making the other work for it. They’re extremely defensive of their craft, and while by no means dismissive to actual criticism ( they know they’re not perfect & others may see things they can’t ) they refuse to tolerate disrespect or people wasting their time.

― Regarding the above, Shiver understands they can’t just control the group because they themselves don’t want to do something, and when it comes to Deep Cut or just things Bigman or Frye want to do on their own they’re completely fine with obliging to things they themselves wouldn’t, since as a group they can’t control it or their friends and they don’t want to! its their individuality that makes them who they are, and Shiver is willing to compromise when it matters so long as they are respected the same in turn.

― in world they probably have simps and they LOVE bullying them. Yes they do the male Octoling voice thing to fuck with them. yes they think its funny <3 its just a bonus if they fluster a friend or guest in the process.

―  the clan of Eels, clan of Rays, and clan of Sharks ( Frye, Bigman and Shiver’s clans respectively ) have been in communication & camaraderie for long before Shiver or their parents were ever hatched. They like to think they’re following old traditions with Deep Cut but in a new light.

― Shiver’s clan history of Shark wrangling, care & wrangling persists to this day! before they made music or even met Bigman they were raised into such traditions and excelled with the handling and bond between Cephalopod & shark. This has resulted in them being MUCH tougher & better built than you’d probably expect, having extremely fast reflexes, and being very familiar with the care of Elasmobranchii ( the sub-class of sharks, skates & rays, the last of which makes them almost like a doctor when it comes to telling when something is wrong with Bigman, though their specialty does lie with sharks still ) as well as just. very good at patching themselves up BJKGNRJTK such is life when you live alongside & within a shiver ( hah ) of sharks.

― the sharks of the clan were there before the first people of the clan in the seaweed forest & the decision was made to live alongside them as allies. Sharks have become somewhat sacred ( or were particularly in the past ) as a result and the bond between them and the clan is considered to be very important! they’ve grown alongside one another through the generations and worked alongside each-other in the unique ways they do through it all. Sharks in the past & their group have been known for allying with the sharks in battle like steads, especially with individual Octolings having a deep bond with specific sharks. Shiver is also surprisingly good at hiding and general stealth from growing up in the aforementioned forest.

― a big part of their strain put on self-restraint & respect is probably ( definitely ) from growing up with and handling sharks, where both are very important! this is also part of why they value power as well as strategy, group dynamics, and generally come across as so intense and stubborn since you’ve gotta hold your own alongside THE predators of the sea, though that’s definitely not to say that’s all they value, it’s just things that stand out to them and ideals they were raised with. a big part of Shiver is respecting tradition while expanding & breaking from it, after all!

[ umber ] For any deltarune or undertale muse. I can't read your roster on my phone for some reason

[ umber ] for a repressed memory.

Once, Frisk snapped. ━ they snapped like a bungee cord during storage, not during the fall ; less like someone slashed it like people slash tires and more like how a vase only realizes its broken once it hits the ground, and they were. 

It was Gyftmas Eve, and they were throwing a party at the capital. It was the 2nd year they were staying with Asgore after saying they wouldn’t be leaving, that the decision could be put off for a time. ( “ delay the execution, won’t you? for right this moment, it doesn’t have to happen. not here. not now. ” ) Asgore had relented to the groups begging to do so, after a while, and everything had been set up. streamers & lights hanging from the walls, gifts laid out on a table, even snow had been exported from Snowdin to make it feel more festive. 

They remember having fun, talking to people and friends as they helped hand out gifts, drinks & food on a platter. They don’t remember the conversation changing to Chara & Asriel. They don’t remember the way it twisted their guts like a punch in the stomach with a specific kind of upset bitter anger. They don’t remember it leading them to fumble on their own feet ( or were they tripped? ) hard enough that they dropped a platter of drinks, it crashing to the floor and them crashing with it shortly after. 

They don’t remember how a large piece of glass gouged their hand so badly they were half certain they couldn’t move their fingers. They don’t remember the upset whirlwind building, a spiral within a spiral turning a strong wind into a hurricane in 2 minutes flat. They don’t remember frantically excusing themselves with a wide-eyed buzzing flickery gaze that jumped from person to person, a crooked smile on their face, tears already beginning to rush to their eyes even if they didn’t notice it yet. They don’t remember the commotion, the clamor to help & find out what happened, or themselves rushing to the bathroom and locking themselves inside. 

They don’t remember spiraling inside that bathroom. They don’t remember Asgore, or Sans, or Papyrus, or Alphys, or Undyne, or anyone calling out to them, frantic and worried. They don’t remember the way they screamed, overwhelmed, to stop. They don’t remember they rambled about things they shouldn’t know, that they couldn’t tell them, drowning in a pin-trigger of a season’s death they were never a part of but always compared to. They don’t remember dissolving into sobs, refusing to unlock the door, their friends desperation rising. 

They don’t remember Asgore breaking down the door. cracking it as wood splintered, terrified in that one, split moment, and how they suddenly couldn’t tell his kindness from his violence, and how they became the terrified stray dog more than they were the kindly human, too much teeth in a mouth too small and eyes too wide to see anything but their own death. They don’t remember how-

...They only remember waking up again, in that golden flower patch, with a migraine, and those 2 years gone in one night. They don’t remember resetting, or the means they went to achieve it, but they remember waking up alone, --- with nothing but dread in the pit of their stomach, and a cold, cold feeling. You called, but no one came.

Megaera can taste, or rather sense misdeeds and wrongdoings. A portion of the reason shes as hostile to Zagreus in battle in particular as she is, is merely due in part to the amount of fiendish shades he had to dispose of to arrive to her station. he is dripping with it, almost soaked in their blood, even his wounds are fresh with the scent of it from their weapons, each bruise shines sickly with it. Usually, this isn’t a problem, as Meg has been within the Underworlds keep and under Hades’ rule for a very long time, and almost reluctantly, restraint is a facet she is arguably most skilled with alongside her sisters. ━━━ But when its concentrated unto a single target, of whom she’s been granted full freedom to her violent whims ━ even encouraged to act upon them, to lay her wrath down as vehemently as she can ━ paired with Zagreus’ lighthearted, sarcastic, determined nature, and violence always being the language she speaks with  most fluent a tongue … well, its very easy to see why she’s called a fury in more than just her blood.

━━━ MISC LOKI HEADCANONS.

━ Loki has a tendency to hoard food more than actually eat. It’s not uncommon for him to hide stashes of containers of food around places he considers a home, or at least he considers safe, at times even putting illusions on them to ensure they’d go undiscovered. it’s not difficult to snare his wrath if you were to steal from him. its unclear why he does this & why he’s so possessive of it, but given he’s been in prisons for much of his life which often don’t give up a buffet if they can help it ( some, if not most he’s been within, bordering on starvation tactics, yet another thing he’s become incredibly accustomed to ) is likely the cause, or at least a reason.

━ As a soothing mechanism when faced with restraining his temper, he’ll tongue over his teeth & molars. it tends to act as a sense of intimidation, be that intended or not. Then again, one should always fear an angry god.

━ He’s always been keen for blades, in and out of battle. Obviously his weapon of choice is the dagger if available, but his use of knives aren’t limited to just that. He used to aid his Father & Thor in preparing game, including skinning and de-boning game. Cattle, swine, poultry, fish. Tying to this, he simply enjoys the act of properly working with his hands that comes with using a knife and cooking, even if its rare to find him in a kitchen without being poked and prodded.

━ He’s surprisingly easy to bruise, something he was often embarrassed by in his youth. the marks heal easily, as one might suspect, but they appear much too often for his liking.

━ He’s always had a hard time crying, regardless of if its on cue or genuine. He’d suppressed the impulse & want so long and so vehemently that it’s incredibly difficult, often forcing him to rely upon illusions when using alligator tears to his advantage. On the few occasions he does cry, it often leads to full-on sobbing. He’s not beautiful when he weeps, but then again, no one is.

U   :   UNREQUITED. › for thanatos!

Valentine Alphabet! // Always Accepting! (even if its not valentines day anymore)

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

Thanatos has. ━ and Zagreus, and his never-ending escapes, are not the first to do so and they will likely not be the last. ━━━ Though, perhaps Zagreus is only the most romantic of them, in the way its in the writing but you don't necessarily need to read it. Death is a romantic concept, and because all Gods ━ and all lovers ━ require a heart, he has suffered the consequences of that ruling. so while Thanatos is a concept given hands, a personification rather than a God for Gods die and cannot birth death when they too are marked by it, humanity was unkind enough to love him, loathe him, send him back.

There are many different ways in which Thanatos has had his heart broken, but the most direct in the theme of romance or relationships in general is Zagreus, the prince of the Underworld. Thanatos and Zagreus, in-game, are subjectively implied to have some kind of romantic feelings for each-other or at the very least were very close. Thanatos works for Hades, bringing death as one expects of the personification of Death, which is why it becomes a problem when Zagreus decides he wants to leave the Underworld, regardless of consequences. ━ Nothing and no one leaves the Underworld, and it is Thanatos' job to ensure this.

The lawbook fact no one leaves, however, is violently overshadowed by the fact Zagreus seemingly carelessly ━ spurred on by a letter found from his father's desk of his real mother and an argument where Hades fired Zagreus from his work after many slip-ups and Hades rarely having a glimpse of patience for the boy ━ throws his life in the Underworld away alongside everyone who loved and cared about him to endlessly pursue a goal which for all intents and purposes is intended to be impossible, and still, he tries. again and again and again as those he loved turns against him to push him down as he tries to claw tooth and nail out.

And Thanatos is one of them. And he loves him. And Zagreus won't stay. Zagreus doesn't want to stay, which is simply to say ; Zagreus doesn't want him. Thanatos knows it's not that simple and he knows he cannot simply ask someone to remain eternally unhappy to simply be with someone, if he does not want to remain here ━ an abusive father endlessly biting at him, where things never change and never get better but never get worse, where he is loved but it is stagnant and unbearable and full of lies ━ Thanatos cannot make him. He does not want to make him. But he is gone and going, left and leaving, and Thanatos understands the agony of absence, even for one who so often inflicts it. He is pained, this is torture, a heart that can't stop breaking because Zagreus can't leave so it just goes on like this

... But Thanatos loves him.

Thanatos loves him more than it hurts, more than he wants to be bitter, more than he wants to be angry, so he helps him. He offers his aid in the subtle ways he can, rewards in turn for competition, providing a companion in combat if only once, and he risks his job to help Zagreus. Because he loves him so much that he wants him to be happy. Because he loves him so much that he wants him to be happy, even if he is happy without him.

He looks in the face of absence and answers with ❛ I know. It's okay. You can go. I love you. You can go. ❜ Thanatos is poisonous in-game, not as simple as venom, it is toxic and salt in wounds and citrus lining nerves like electricity. he is bitter to the point of making you wince, sharp to the point of cutting you, you, not Zagreus. He makes you guilty, but it isn't because he doesn't want you to go. Of course, he doesn't. He doesn't want Zagreus to leave. but he loves him, so he helps him, goes against the rules for him, goes against everything for him, just to give him a chance in what should be ━ what might be ━ impossible, because he wants Zagreus to be happy more than he wants Zagreus to stay and more than he wants Zagreus to love him. He makes you guilty because his bitterness is because he loves you and you're leaving and its for the best. Because you love him and you're leaving and its for the best. Because Zagreus will, eventually, reach the surface. To you, the player, the game exists to be possible, so one day, eventually, you are going to fight up after getting beaten down enough times and persist & persist & persist and you will make it. And you don't know what happens next. You don't know, so there's nothing after. Zagreus will, one day, reach the surface. And you don't get to say goodbye Except in the long process of Zagreus packing his bags and pulling himself out And the long silence that comes after.

T   :   TRUE LOVE. › for ghostface!

Valentine Alphabet! // Always Accepting! (even if its not valentines day anymore)

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

Billy does not. True love to him is simply, violently implausible. its what you tell someone when you don't believe them, or more specifically, don't believe that their relationship will survive much if any further. It's what you say when you've put in the effort, but it's just not working, and you're tired of trying. it's what he's been told. ( Billy...? Don't you love me? ━ of course I love you ━ you don't act like it. ) It's the excusive little jingle that Valentines Day-themed companies come out of the woodwork to, and that people will simultaneously flock to and avoid. It's every single romance show, plotline or book's hidden thesis underneath even if that show, plotline or book is entirely unaware of what's underneath it, inherently connected to the concept of love itself. The idea that love can be something pure, and inherent, and true. That you don't need to work for it. Especially that someone like him could be loved in this way. Even as a very young child, Billy's never believed in true love, and I don't think anything could change that in him. He knows his genre, and he doesn't care to change it, especially not for you. ━ but maybe some things aren't set in stone, right? Maybe Billy's just always been a difficult kid.

Danny believes in it the way you believe in running gags or cryptids, the fact you do not inherently believe in it but God ; its just so fun to laugh about, isn't it? ( it's just so fun to mock. ) It's less lofty than the cost of religion but he understands that, to some, this is the closest notion the individual will reach to finding God, and while Danny does not believe in this, true love, many people would say you should still respect the opinion, even if it seems naïve. Danny does not respect anyone.

True love is a joke taken half seriously. He laughs on it with the same seriousness as he does cheesy, poorly done gore or shots in horror movies where they had the tools of the era to do it right, but just didn't care enough to. He laughs on it in the way a cryptozoologist might mock the existence of the creatures they are fascinated by, but the belief lies heavy and serious in the ridges of their brain. He laughs on it in the way you can't tell what he believes because Danny believes anything so long as it gets him somewhere or you believe it too, and Danny has always been a very good liar.

sleep meme / hermes & patroclus.

tagged by: @nectaric thank u vvvvv much &lt;33 !! tagging: @askganondorftobadragmire @jfouler @thetowermuse (for octavo or burgh?) @nerofcrte @mightiestbanana @lcngdays (for angel or beldane?) @vonerde @drachliebe @tenebriism (for zagreus or yusuke?)

type of bed. hermes has adapted to a great many of different beds, and perhaps unlike some of his more luxury inclined brethren, he's really not picky beyond the surface being relatively clean & solid enough to support his weight. His chosen place of rest at his home, however, when he has the time to sleep there, is a klinē, a type of bed / couch often used for banquets ( symposia ). it's often considered a more luxurious piece of furniture, especially for the heroised, but he's never cared about little things like that. it's comfortable and easy on the legs, and that's all that really matters for him.

number of blankets. none, usually! the ichor in his veins, half brother to Apollo & son of Zeus, results in him almost always kept warm enough despite his light clothing. It does effect him, certainly, but it's never enough to bother with weighing himself down over. he prefers the speed & ease of getting up quickly without the blanket ( as well as disliking the pressure on his wings ) more than he dislikes the weather effecting him.

number of pillows. usually only one or two at home, though his usual default is using his messenger bag as one, or stealing a bundle of hay to act as a quick & easy one. his preferred pillow, if it can be helped, tends to be people instead. be it lover, friend, family, he sleeps best with them as a cushion ( plus, it's an easy method to be annoying if he so chooses <3 )

type of clothing. hermes often just wears his usual chiton, not even bothering to remove his boots usually, though sometimes he does sleep nude! he considers it more comfortable but usually can't be assed

does it matter where they sleep? not in the slightest! Hermes will sleep anywhere, in barns or branches, floor or rafters, bed or not, he's never been the type to hold himself to a high-and-strict standard when it comes to where he rests, no holy ground to hold his body when anywhere works fine, especially when its so fleeting when he ever needs to at all. he'd rather rest among his brethren than act as though above.

what do they do if they cannot fall asleep?  oftentimes, just get back to work! there's always something to do across the world, Olympus and underworld, always something to carry, always something to say. though, it's very rare for Hermes to be unable to sleep unless something is really weighing him down, often regarding those close to him. if he doesn't feel like working, he'll often busy himself with company. it's very rare for anyone to turn down a God when they come to visit.

frequent dreams, nightmares. Hermes does not dream often. he jokes, maybe taunts, that the Oneiroi can't catch him. when he does dream, they're prophetic and intense, violent. they're not dreams at all, so much as they're an unconscious world pungent with the intention to tell him something, communication in the harshest senses, thick with burning and herbs and a thousand different prophecies, a million different secrets. how cruel it is, to be privy to such worlds as those, in the lines between the dead & the living. how often he is tasked with carrying ones of his own.

deep slumber or naps? Naps! Hermes does not sleep often whatsoever, so often he gets away with small naps, usually not even bothering to lie down. Though, when he DOES sleep properly ━ usually alongside someone else or in his own home ━ he sleeps deep, sometimes for 2 days or longer. only once every couple months, does it feel like the gaps of communication in the world go silent, like a network gone dead, an almost visible tension for the mortal world. a brief glimpse of the state without Hermes, no one to carry voices, no one to carry prayers. no one can do it like he can, and no one ever will.

when do they sleep? he sleeps whenever he pleases, mostly, when he does sleep that is.

what could wake them up? when napping, Hermes is VERY easy to wake up, but when he's sleeping more properly it depends heavily on who it is trying to. if a fellow God or divine entity attempts it, it's almost impossible bar stabbing him in the chest or otherwise doing major harm to him, but he answers, unhesitatingly, to prayers. he will not answer his godly kin, but he will answer, unfailingly, to his mortal brethren. you do not need to wake him; he will always come.

type of bed. Patroclus was accustomed to a great many makeshift beds in his lifetime, be it more lovingly constructed ones, ones he made himself ( often quickly, not bothering for a great deal of effort for a great deal of time he just couldn't spare ), or the ground itself. His most commonly used one would be a portable mattress made of cloth and stuffed with wool and Aegina bird's feathers, a gift from his grandmother: a nymph of that island, a labor of care of which he'd rely upon during the war. during his time within his own home & in Elysium, he'd likely have been offered to sleep upon Klinai, but very often would trade his bed to someone else, often the women of his home, for him to instead sleep on the floor. He still does, lying in the fields of Elysium, only restless greets him: for the dead cannot sleep, and he, always too weighted, to rest.

number of blankets. usually he used his himation as one, as was standard practice. when needed, he'd also use a sheep-skin blanket to fight off the cold, one he'd offer to his fellow soldiers often who didn't have their own.

number of pillows. none, usually. sometimes, especially if he was wounded, he'd accept or make makeshift ones for himself ( usually stuffed with grass or worn straw ) before giving them to others when he didn't need them anymore. This practice of going without continues in Elysium, despite the array of velvets offered always to him.

type of clothing. it varies. there'd been many times in Patroclus' life where he'd fall asleep in his armor, often midway through dismantling it from his person when exhaustion won over him, where Achilles would have to carefully, skillfully, strip it off of him before lying him to rest properly, good sleep eternally a valuable resource in limited supply. same going for him simply sleeping in his day-clothes, as long as they weren't dirty from the work. though the most often trend was only bothering to wrap himself in spare pinned cloth that'd last as a substitute for night-clothes until his usual clothes were clean and dry for the next morning. Patroclus never is dirtied in Elysium, and never sleeps, so he never changes. To do so would be taking energy from a pool that is always too shallow to drink from

does it matter where they sleep? yes and no. the quality of his sleep is effected, and he'll often struggle more to fall asleep when resting in places too quiet or too in anticipation of something ( his home & the tents often falling into either or both ), but he could still fall asleep there. he often felt most comfortable near rivers or the sea, the sound of moving water. he'd call it a gift from Achilles, to be so peaceful there, when he was borne from it. Thetis, never a guardian here, but never an enemy. it was all Patroclus could ask of her, in the way he did not ask at all, feeling unfit to.

what do they do if they cannot fall asleep?  busies himself with other restless souls or with things to improve, tasks to do under the quiet of night, or doing them as Achilles sleeps nearby providing them to be quiet enough. He'd often find circles of other restless soldiers and sit with them, talking softly through the night, as he worked at his armor or something other. he often felt guilty, when Achilles would awake without him there and go searching, unable to find it in himself to wake him for such small pains as his lack of rest. in Elysium, he is always awake, and prefers to be alone, which is to say, he has never enjoyed being alone, but he chooses it regardless, as it was chosen for him.

frequent dreams, nightmares. his dreams always were a mix of signs given to him in empty messages. the effort to say something to him each time he dreamed, but full of empty shapes to fill the air alongside it, as though to cloud what vision was intended for him to see. his nightmares, often and unrelenting, he believed to be the distilled versions of these signs attempted to be communicated to him turned angry and forceful with their lack of acknowledgement, turning to a curse to bare instead. he'd apologize to Achilles as a vessel to the gods after waking, often not realizing he had at all. the apology for something not his fault.

deep slumber or naps? Patroclus has always been a relatively light sleeper, so napping has often been difficult for him on top of the desire he has to stay conscious incase he's needed, leading to him often only sleeping instead out of simple exhaustion

when do they sleep? when night falls, usually if he can help it, though sometimes he winds up sleeping at dawn.

what could wake them up? a small shake or a loud enough recital of his name is usually enough to do it, though he often wakes with a jolt, anticipating the worst even in his unconsciousness

what horror trope are you? ━ the monster.

it was not your fault. ━ at first, at least. you cannot help being the way you are. and even if you could, would you choose to change? they met you with torches raised and screaming mouths, the only choice you had was to flee. but you will not stay away forever. they whisper your name in fear, and you will make sure you hurt them just as much as they hurt you.

what horror trope are you? ━ the lover.

love has brought you to this place, and it will not let you leave. fear clutches you, constricts you, and it will have you killed━ and yet, it is still no match for the bounty of your heart. you will try as hard as you can to protect the object of your affections. evil is nothing in the face of your warmth. even if you are successful in protecting your lover, that does not guarantee your own survival. your heart has doomed you, but what greater death is there than dying for love?

au where after the events of botw, the form of ganondorf & his malice in a last ditch effort to preserve itself - an immortality learned through the ages of its hatred and its diluted godhood in evading the namesake of its origins ( demise ) ━ condenses into an indirect, distant ground. a field turning white in its atrophy, and knowing, knowing its curse. Not ganondorf; but his hatred.

a crystallization of blood and ruin and a thousand years and a thousand more. a toxicity that instead of sludge turns into something beautiful into something not the same. not a growth, but a growing. a field that never dies. a field that never changes. snow does not fall on the grounds in which he infects, perhaps unlike himself, as though a grave. former body a cruel thing to fall back to, an ancient hatred, never enough roots to stretch back to beneath Hyrule Castle

Making what you can with what you have. Eventually something wakes up under that field. Eventually something digs their way out. Eventually something, remembering what it is like to breathe, names himself again. Ganondorf. Bones not his own, a corpse repurposed; he always finds a way.

A secret. A curse.

god. my favorite thing with my version of Ganondorf is his power not quite being a plague but rather a permanence.

his hands brushing reeds and it turns white as though shocking its color from its fiber, a field of silver left where he walks for generations that grows in on itself, out on itself, learning to live regardless. an insect swarm comes to him and leaves him with a violent coordination of those minds altered. punished or blessed beasts finding their eyes seeing a kind of sight they were not born with but given, rewired, cats given a dogs eyes, dogs given crows. he takes the quill and its ink and the ink writes itself into the essence of its parchment like an oath, an oath to stay, a promise on a future it is determined to stay in at his word, at his command. he may be corruption he may be ancient upon evil upon spite that does not die; that cannot die; but he is a memory you cannot get rid of, a history that aches in the bones of the land, a monument unmovable.

he is a bitter loathed selfish truth but you cannot make him pretty, you cannot make him gone. a lesson to keep learning. a person immortalized without body, without name. he inhales and you hold your breath. he speaks and you listen. he exhales and you see the world change. his personhood will never outlast him, who he is a footnote on a list of unimaginable enormities, but his single presence is a fact in a sea of shining lies. he is not pretty, but he has always been beautiful.

you who will not love him, but you who will know he was here. where you are. a hundred years ago. a hundred years ahead.

you tell him to apologize for his own birth, and he laughs, and says I was born, and you will be born knowing me, and you will die knowing me. the way gods are legend. the way he is history.

I made an observation about how Dustfinger loves the inkworld so so much, and how it loves him right back in a post I reblogged yesterday and now I literally can’t stop thinking about it

Because I just, UGH. He really does, he loves the fire and the fairies and his best friend. His wife, his daughter, his now step-son. The trees, the traveling, the singing, the dancing, even the danger. He loves every part of this world with his whole heart

And it loves him right back! The fairies who healed his face after Basta slashed it, the nymphs who remembered his face even after so long gone, the White Women who love him and his fire, The Great Shapechanger who let him go from her realm of death. For every ounce of love Dustfinger pours into this world, he gets it right back

Which is like, that’s the crux of his character isn’t it? Love. Dustfinger is many things, and he sees himself as many more, but at his core? He is full of love. He loves deeply and wholly. And I love that about him <3

04.     entry made after experiencing a nightmare. ( for kim mayhaps? :0 )

DEAR DIARY... // always accepting!!!

poised vertically among a dozen and a half of its brothers on a shelf that is not cramped, but in equal measure begins to lose its space, is a notebook. hands pluck it out by the top ridge along the well-made blue spine, the skin of it covered carefully in a deep navy, the papers a pristine white. inside, the handwriting is dense and thick and fast, bunched together on each line, a code with it's cipher in the language itself. it has not sat here long. the date on the inner cover like the notice of an eviction in black, fluid pen; '50 - '51.

you open it. its pages rustle as though a guarded cage has been opened, rendered vulnerable, almost meek despite the intimidation of straight iron and pressed paper, rustling like a snarl. you sit with it, you learn it, it learns you. it is uncomfortable with what is asked of it. you ask anyway.

you reach back into the memory it holds. it gives way, like sticking your hand in the guts of a soft oily thing, or jello, reaching for a pearl in a clam-shell.

━ I have had more nightmares in the past two weeks than I have in four months. I don't know how much longer I can do this.

Maybe the stress is getting to me. Seeing the recently deceased is never good for your health, but I can't afford to take leave. If I did, all the ground I'd been covering my entire career will be torn out from under me. I'm lucky. I think it's more than just the corpses.

I keep watching him die. There is blood drawn. Kortenaer aims higher. Shoots. The bullet ruptures his liver as a virulent bomb inside of him. he is unconscious after an unimaginably painful half-second. Someone shouts. I panic. I attempt to stop the bleeding. I do not see de Paule. She aims. Shoots. I wake up in the 57th infirmary. I am forced to ask what happened to him instead of being told. I am informed there was nothing they could do, dead within the two days I am unconscious, an excruciating death as the liver and gallbladder poisons his bloodstream even as the bleeding stops. I do not get to see him again. I do not even know if there is a funeral held. The trial never happens. They were gone. We remained. I remain.

The dream changes often, sometimes being so abstract as if only pertaining to the color of his existence or Martinaise itself, but the point remains the same. somewhere in Jamrock, another little light blinks out.

This hasn't happened since Eyes, and never this constant. I wish I could call him.

I don't know. I'm tired. I want to hear his voice. I want to talk to him again. It's late. He'd answer.

The ink is allowed to dry for a long, long time. the pearl is clutched in your right hand. your reaching the end, oblivion, always cut short.

I'm going to work on the Kineema. I can't really, the only thing to do is something to I want to do with him, but an unnecessary tune-up is enough to keep my hands busy.

Maybe then I'll be able to go back to sleep.

// something something loki is so caught-up in the intricacies of being human that he seeks to prove himself wrong by virtue of pride and honor in godhood <- i may expand on this Later. it is up to the will of god

// remind me to write some metas abt Loki tomorrow but in the meantime, i rewatched Thor. the most meta-y bits from me liveblogging it

How do they react to scares or frights? Do they laugh, get nervous, or not react at all? (Harry)

HALLOWEEN QUESTIONS // always accepting!

Harry most often has a myriad of responses to being scared, but the most often ones he has are;

a) laughing! it's a coping mechanism mostly stemming from the more social ━ and logical ━ sections of his brain. He laughs when he doesn't know what to do, or understands that whatever response that something was supposed to illicit simply didn't happen, or is just flat-out confused! it initially came from the idea that, well, if you're already laughing, you're in on the joke; Harry was always the joke, so being the first to laugh at himself, at least for a while, made the ridiculous feel intentional, as though even he was having a 'i can't believe i just did that' moment, even if the cause was entirely unintentional or from something that's just part of him but he knew wasn't socially 'normal' ( a good example is how autistic people, including myself, might laugh at themselves when they've done something that neurotypical people find strange. Definitely not the healthiest, but a very rare few things he does are! )

with laughter as a response to being afraid, it can be from the social point of 'hes supposed to experience one thing and hes not, therefore: laugh', but most often its from an incongruous emotion in of itself ( an emotion in a situation that doesn't necessarily call for it, like laughing as someone's crying, which is often perceived as a result socially as 'not making sense' ) or straight-up just finding the failed scare attempt funny! like watching an actor fuck something up in their take, yknow? sometimes its a shield from the fact he got spooked in the first place, making it nervous laughter to calm himself down, which leads into...

b) flinching! This is the more sincere out of the two, where the scare actually lands to some extent moreso. Harry, almost ALWAYS, responds to just about everything. his composure may mask it, but he is, at all times, answering and responding to and calculating just about everything. this often feeds into his Already pretty bad paranoia ( Imperial Empire, you're doing your best but alas you oft freak him out more than anything actually threatening him... ) and bodily responses to traumas he no longer remembers, things the skills keep from him; huddled in blankets citing its better not to know than to know at all, to make choices of what to do with the pearls of something terrible coddled in those clothes of neurons and grey-matter ━ or, at least, that's how it feels. like keeping secrets.

this means, even in false strikes and in fake-outs, there are things to respond to. even if he already knows the threat isn't real, and even isn't very scared of it at all, the overwhelming sensation of that abrupt happening can make him recoil, half overwhelmed, half new information, always tied to the impulse. be it by physically flinching back, violently lunging forward, parts of his mind surging to answer, or his mind going dead for juuust a moment ━ like the moment the rock breaches the lake's surface ━ then it ripples out again, the latter; a feeling he often finds himself craving to recreate. the impact felt but faux nonetheless. at the end of the day; it invokes a survival response him, and for a split second it's like a millisecond, high saturation dream of watching reality burn alive before reverting to how he knew it like the colors of a broken camera. a microbomb of trauma re-firing, before going dead again.

( Though, if the scare in question has anything to do with touching him, you can bet your bottom dollar that he's going to start swinging )

overall, though, what he does exactly highly depends on what specifically the scare is, how it's performed, the medium ( is it a movie, is it a coworker trying to scare him, is it in his home, is it in the office, how has he mentally been doing overall himself lately, etc etc ) and so on! it's extremely conditional, including whether or not he get's scared in the first place! some days he's untouchable, other days he jumps at everything! depending on what it is and how it's done, harry's responses can ENTIRELY change! it's his nature to be inconsistent and unpredictable, in a way.

he IS however a big horror fan, especially gore since it taps into an animalistic sense in his head kinda that Half Light really digs especially, as well as his creative sense to see how they did it! plus something could 100000% be said about desensitizing himself from terrible things given his job is seeing terrible things a lot of the time. ━ sometimes he's a fan despite himself, given he sometimes uses horror as a 'safe' method to punish himself with triggers or generally invoking a fear/disgust response at all or fucking up his paranoia which bleeds back into his age-old problem of self flagellation and self-loathing, which also ties into his desensitization thing, but that aside, he sincerely does enjoy horror in general!!! I personally like to think he and Jean used to watch horror marathons together during October and November, depending on what they could get their hands on, though Harry doesn't remember this.

this is only tapping into the 'non-harmful scares', though! things like horror movies or the like. his response to genuine threats are overwhelmed with his mind clicking together like the joints of a machine with one goal; to keep him alive.

it's done a surprisingly good job thus far, given how difficult he makes it.

// Replaying DR Chapter 2 again and GOD I'm remembering how much Berdly's coaster fight then the immediate separation fucked with Kris. It's been a long time since they felt that bruised, and left that angry.

please think about how toriel exists as a purposeful venture by toby fox to create a "mom" character who isn't just there to write letters to the protagonist offscreen and act as motivation for them even though we barely know her and actually reacts realistically when innocent children leave her safe home to go on a dangerous adventure because of the inherent and rarely-explored grief and tragedy that come with being such a character in a video game, to be powerless to do anything but watch as both your children sacrifice themselves for a cause they ABSOLUTELY should not have to die for at their age, because that's your only role in the narrative, and you're the "mom," just there to make them pie, and whenever you find another child they always ALWAYS leave you in the same way and die and you feel like you keep losing second and third and fourth etc etc chances. if only you could redeem yourself. if you can save even a single child, that will make it okay, right? that will mean there is hope for you. this time will be different, you'll see. you'll destroy the exit to the ruins. you'll never let asriel and chara your dear fallen wards go again.

moreover, please think about how in deltarune chapter 3, toriel will almost certainly be a major part of the adventure. she will get to accompany her beloved child as they explore a strange, daunting new world, bond with them, learn more about their delightful new friend, FINALLY she will not have to simply stand there in the shadows. the tragedy of the nameless mother who never gets to look after her child in video games as they fight has been explored thoroughly, and now we can delve into something both delightful and potentially even MORE heartbreaking: the mother who HAS to watch her child fight.

on an unrelated note, y'know how the game over screen in chapter 2 has whatever companion you're with begging kris to wake up get up as they lie there, ostensibly dead?

...yeah. think about that for a second as well.

if you were a deity, what would you be the god of? // weather & calamity

how he appears at first glance; ━ trickery & mischief. twisted and playful, you view humans as nothing more than mere toys or puppets. people provide you with offerings and keep their heads down so as to not upset you. you’re expressive and dramatic, though often lying and quite skilled at manipulation and illusion.

how he thinks he is in the nature of the hero; ━ nightmares & discord. your intensity is fearsome. when you feel hurt you don’t often seek out equal and fair revenge but rather drown them in hysteria and watch them burn. you’re temperamental and your emotions are on display for the world to see. you’re the last one any human would want to upset, because even though death would not directly befall them, doom and chaos would ensue, surrounding their life until their death.

what he truly is; ━ weather & calamity. tempestuous and fearsome, your moods are hard to read and you strike on a whim. not a soul can avoid you as disasters strike across the land. you have your own standards for what makes sense and what you value, and if anyone dares challenge you there will be nowhere for them to run.

tagged by ━ @balladetto thank you sm!!!!!!!!!!!! <3333

tagging ━ @wickedlittlepuppy : @lncanting / @manebloom / @tendercoded : @playedbetter (for harry!) : @theaterrush (for icarus!) : @12pirit : @rathalascendant / @shamisenson : @fantomevoleur : @vitrumbra (for either!) : @gloryseized (for akira!) : @deathwis (for dennis or maybe tyler on your other blog?) : @askganondorftobadragmire and YOU

check readmore for tags bc they're too gd long

If they were a classic monster, which monster would they be and why? Viktor

HALLOWEEN QUESTIONS // always accepting!

I’ve gone a little off-topic here, delving more into ‘what costume’ than ‘what they are’ but the obvious is Frankenstein. Not Frankenstein’s monster, but rather the doctor. Mad scientist in general is kind of what Viktor would go for, given… well, he likes to poke fun at himself and his field where he can without getting punished, yknow? Plus, since 90% of the look is lab equipment anyway, he’s basically got everything he needs right on hand. If nothing else, the labcoat with scorch marks is a bonus rather than a con! Viktor has been and always will be the kind of person who, if he can respectably take a low effort approach to a social function, he almost always will, and being predictable for him isn't a bad thing. The easier it is to do, the more likely he’ll actually bother — sometimes, of course. Usually only special occasions. If its just a costume or masquerade party, odds are he’s not attending in the first place unless someone begs and/or drags him.

While Mad Scientist is his go-to, ala Victor Frankenstein and Jekyll or Jekyll and Hyde, I wouldn’t be shocked if he’d also gone some years as Frankenstein or a vampire or such as well, just to spice it up a little bit, same with Hyde. It depends on the year and how much effort he’s willing to put in and where exactly he’s going in the first place to bother getting so dressed up at all for; if he’s going to a little get-together with whom he calls associates ( not friends ) in the Undercity, then a haphazard Frankenstein or vampire is fine. If he’s going to a fancy party with his academic friends, then a higher effort Jekyll outfit works.