revunant

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immortal king of duinh

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me: you literally have a disorder. this is symptoms

me: no perhaps my soul is rotten

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i’ve had some big irl developments in the last week (good ones! finally! a bitch got a break!) and it’s gonna mean i’m very busy for the next few months, so im putting the blog on soft hiatus - i still very much have muse, and if i get a minute of quiet i’ll duck in here, but it’s gonna be cricket sounds for a hot minute

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the future is not flying cars. rthe future is little videos that curse every single app on my Phone

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There is a cat at the door.

One of those large, majestic, squirrel-tailed breeds, though it's hard to tell with what a sorry state the poor thing is in. It's scrawny, and matted, and possibly even mangy, with frazzled whiskers and torn ears and a scar over one of its eyes. It sits patiently, paws gathered neatly and squarely, its ragged tail wrapped around them.

Despite its apparent condition, and despite being, again apparently, alone, the cat is purring like a motorboat, eyes squinted affectionately shut. Let's hope someone around here has a packet of Dreamies on hand.

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It's dark, and it's raining, and there's something between those buildings. At first it seems like it might be an animal, medium-sized, maybe a stray dog or a coyote or a small deer, but when a light passes behind, it becomes clear that the shape is one of a human. Or at least, something similar.

Either way, it seems to have cottoned on to the fact that it's being watched. Slowly, it un-hunches to its full — admittedly not very impressive — height, as though trying to present itself as a threat. A light passes in front this time. There's a blurry puddle of blood at its feet, the rain dappling into it. And the source of that blood would very much like to stop being stared at.

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Jesper takes very few threats lightly, and this one is no exception — however, he's fully cognizant of the fact that he would have deserved it, so his only response is to nod in earnest, if slightly flustered, understanding.

This is why he doesn't speak to people. It's messy, and he will invariably put a foot wrong, and then somebody will stomp him to death with their hooves. It's a miracle he didn't ask them how they lost their arm before his verbal filter came back online.

“Know what it's — ?” — Ah. They must have seen his hand. “I...yes, I do, but that doesn't excuse it.” But they've let it go, and it's a bad idea to beleaguer a point that might have gotten him hurt by someone less merciful than Hax, so he drops it.

Something occurs to him, and he pauses, cringing inwardly at himself. “I'm not...soliciting for business, or anything. That would be a dick move.”

He really doesn't want to get kicked into next week.

“So...when...did it happen?”

...But he's not doing a very good job of avoiding that outcome.

They laugh in turn, a little warmer but there's still that undertone of awkwardness. Still there, but steadily fading as the conversation carries. Hands are interlocked and shaken, though Hax doesn't miss that glimpse of his other hand. Followed with his admission of being a prosthetist, it makes much more sense why he'd point out their arm so casually.

|| 💛 ||: ❝ Don't get me wrong, if I wasn't shocked by how you said it I probably would've kicked you into next week. ❞

Looking at their legs, and also just the fact that they were seven feet tall, that could be a genuine threat.

|| 💛 ||: ❝ Nice to meet you Jesper, and it's alright, we all have our slips ups from time to time. Besides, I can see you know what it's like. ❞

They retrieve their hand, resting it on their hip. A warmer smile on their lips as their head tilts slightly to the side, glancing him over.

|| 💛 ||: ❝ So a prosthetist, huh? ❞

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Page turner, the piper, dreamer!

𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 (accepting)

PAGETURNER - does your muse read any books? what’s their favorite? He doesn't read for fun, which probably doesn't come as a surprise. Even when he needs to research something, books are one of the last ports of call, because there are far more efficient ways to absorb information nowadays. He has the attention span for it, caertainly, but anything that requires him to sit down and do one thing for more than a few minutes isn't exactly his idea of time well spent.

THE PIPER - what are your muse’s thoughts about war? Simultaneously many thoughts, and no thoughts at all. He finds it very difficult to be objective about things as grand as war, but most of all, it's not really his place to have thoughts on it. To him, it's like a carpentry nail having an opinion of the architect's plans: as absurd and unlikely as it is futile. It goes as far as this — if it happens, then someone above him thought it needed to. And if he finds himself under someone's command, then he'll put his everything into it. (Unfortunately, once he's under that thumb, it's very unlikely he'd be able to tell between the right side of history, and the wrong one. All he would care about is following orders, no matter how evil those orders are.)

DREAMER - does your muse have any recurring dreams? if not, what was their worst nightmare? Kind of? I'm not sure where the line is between recurring dream and dream that looks kind of similar to the other dreams because they were formed by similar things. Like, if you crash a bunch of similar cars into a tree at a similar angle at a similar speed they're going to be wrapped around it in kind of similar ways, visually. There are recurring themes. That's the word I was looking for. The roots are the same.

Cannibalism, for one, which was one of Pieter's favourite approaches to both convincing Jesper that he was a monster being given a chance and not a victim being taken advantage of, and convincing him not to try and return home, where everyone knew what he'd "done" with his "father's body". (He did in fact not eat his father. Most of the time, it was raw reindeer. Occasionally, it was a human, but still not his father.) Then there's dreams about drowning in icy water; dreams where he's intimate with Pieter, viewed in varying lights; dreams about the Chasm that are so vivid that he wakes up half-convinced that he actually died in his sleep; dreams where he hurts his loved ones; dreams about the euphemistically-nicknamed rabbit wiggler, which I did type out an explanation for but I think I'll save it for another post. (For so long, his dreams have either been awful, or nonexistent. He's almost grown convinced that his sleeping brain simply can't conjure up anything pleasant, or even just harmlessly confounding. But in the future he dreams of eating delicious food, of a hand pulling him out of the water and into the warm sun, or of walking until he finds the very end of the Chasm, where everyone he's ever loved is waiting for him.)

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Had he made his stance clear? Or had he just made everything several times more difficult? The only reason Jesper doesn't dip into fawning and convincing him that it's fine, he can do whatever he wants forever, is the fear of only exacerbating the hassle further. That, and the fact that he was in a good mood, and the tail end of that leaves him with more handholds to prevent himself from dropping.

But his head's still bowed, so much so that he has to look up to meet Teddy's eyes, his ears pinned back so tightly that they all but disappear into his mane.

“You're sure?” In the last few months, a lot has changed for Jesper — his convictions, his perspective, his opinions of the people and circumstances that moulded him, huge chunks of who he thought he was becoming entirely disconnected from who he needs to be now. Any kind of stability feels like a lifeline, even things as simple as having full control over a little room in the back yard. “I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Or like I don't want you to have fun. I know you didn't mean anything by it.”

Oh, rest in piss, that single ding ding. "All right, no more squidgy dicks in the workshop. You've made your stance clear." He's not resentful, or upset, or angry. He just recognizes when enough is enough, and it's no longer a bit, but a sincere sentiment.

"I'll just find less disruptive ways to harmlessly prank you." And he'll need to find a home for the army of tiny silicone penises he has stashed away. Maybe he can just pour them all in the tub to briefly confuse him, or something. Leave them in the shower on anywhere there's free area.

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And here he thought he was done. Jesper had been about to snatch up the cash and get as far as possible as quickly as possible, but the further offer gives him pause. He's not sure why. It's not like he's a greedy man — other than having the common sense to know that ten grand might just come in handy — but it seems like such an obvious trap. Surely nobody gets caught up in something this poorly-constructed.

(It's not lost on him that here he is, getting caught in it. But it's different. He's more drawn in by the snare than by the bait.)

“...Not opposed, no.” A part of him was looking on in third-person, screaming at the embodied self to get the fuck out of there. “It would depend on the work.”

"hell yeah." said way too casually, like this were a common occurrence (of which it likely was, all things considered); the remaining cash is, well, manifested right on top of the initial roll like it'd just been spawned in - sorry for the rain of money - as the suitcase is greedily pulled over.

it's not opened yet though. no, he's got something else in mind now.

"saaaay," uh oh- "... you aren't opposed to tripling that, are ya son?" the cheshire grin is too much man. you can't be saying that. who in their right mind would even fall for that.

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“Yes, Teddy, I fucking know.” He says it under his breath, but he's sure Teddy can hear it. Blowing up the Tower had only ever been a fantasy born from frustration, from hopelessness, from the sick feeling he gets in his stomach when he remembers how many people have been hurt, and how the people who hurt them will likely never face consequences. He's allowed to want to burn the world down when the world is this unfair, he thinks, and he doesn't want to be talked down to for wanting it.

One glass is set down, and the other remains in Jesper's hand. He stands by the cabinet and looks out of the floor-to-ceiling window at the gloomy city below, chewing over whatever it is he's always chewing over — until Teddy calls out from the bathroom, and his head spins to face the door.

“...Just leave those on, then,” he calls back, reluctantly, rationalising to himself that if anyone's going to see him, they would have seen him coming in. “But be careful on your way out. Use the fire exit if you have to.”

A helicopter passes a few hundred metres away from the window, and he freezes, hoping that Teddy doesn't choose this moment to emerge. It's gone by the time he does, thank god, but Jesper's still staring out into empty space.

“Tell me about this...Moon-whatever. If you really think she needs dealing with, then I'll see what can be done.”

"You can't blow up the Tower. It's too obvious and it'll destroy valuable intel." He's learned he's had to speak a language other than "my friends live there and I can't let you kill them," instead having to keep calling back to The Mission, since that was all Jesper cared about, not the worthless lives of metas.

The door to the bathroom shuts, and water runs for a while as he cleans off his face and takes a moment to stare into the mirror. At first, he'd tried leaving money to compensate him for the water, but Jesper made it clear early on that taking his money made him very uncomfortable.

It was only later that Teddy found out why.

But, there's drinks to be had, so he strips out of his suit, undoes his hair, and...realizes he didn't bring a change of trousers. This is embarrassing.

"Um. I'm sorry, I didn't bring any bottoms. And none of yours are gonna fit."

[revunant]

gonna try to crack out some replies.. and then make some opens for the verses that've been calling out to me lately

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hello i am a little tempted to make a sideblog for warden

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💥 ― 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑛 𝐴𝑛𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑟. (𝑉𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝐼𝐶.)

Why were you named the way you were? Is there a special meaning behind your name (or middle name if applicable)?

When is your birthday? What is your ideal birthday?

What is your sexuality/orientation? How did you discover them?

What's usually on your shopping list?

What are some general hygiene things you do? How do you normally do your hair? What kind of products do you use?

What is in your pockets/bag/etc. right now?

What is it like where you live? How does it compare to where you grew up if it differs?

Do you have a favorite food? What's your favorite breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert?

Do you have any other family members? Parents, siblings, grandparents, cousins, etc.?

How do you feel about makeup? Are you any good at putting it on? Do you wear it often?

Would you say you are an introvert, or an extrovert?

If someone were to invite you to a party, would you enjoy it? What would you do during?

What scares you the most? And if it really happened... how would you deal with it?

Have you ever raised a weapon towards someone? Was it in self-defense, or was it purposefully? What happened afterwards?

Do you honestly believe that you are funny? Tell us your best joke!

Tell us about something that's happened recently (asker can request a specific "vibe" to the story--happy, sad, annoying, funny, etc. if they wish).

If you were to describe yourself in a few words, what would those words be?

Do you have any pets? If so, what are their names? What are they like personality-wise? Can we see them?

What is something you care desperately about? Something that you just couldn't live without?

Have you ever broken a bone? Have you ever had surgery?

How often do you cry? Do you happy cry, or do you mostly cry in sadness?

What are some weird interests or hobbies you have that people probably wouldn't expect you to have?

Have you ever lost someone close to you? Who was it? How did you cope with it?

What is your favorite holiday? What makes it your favorite? Is there something in particular that you enjoy most about it?

Do you have any crushes at the moment? If so, do you think you will ever tell them? Has anyone ever had a crush on you?

Are there any certain scents, sounds, or textures that you like? What about ones that you dislike?

Would you ever consider starting a family? How do you feel about getting married, having kids, and potentially settling down?

What are a few things (or one thing) you want to do before you die? Why?

Are you happy in your own skin? If you could change something about yourself, would you, and what would it be?

Do you have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? Do you go out of your way to always wear it when you can? Why is it your favorite?

[revunant]

I would like to Enter your bloodstream and Eat away at you slowly from the inside out If thats okay Or if it isnt

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How many people are simping for you?

21 people are about to die, and he doesn't even really want to kill them.

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Guy who is touch starved but emotionally repressed goading you into punching him for completely normal reasons