Chara Dreemurr..? (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
achievementhunter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lifeaftr2018-04-13 08:16 am
achievementhunter) wrote in lifeaftr2018-04-13 08:16 am
Entry tags:
- final fantasy xv: ignis scientia,
- fragile dreams: ren,
- hollow knight: the knight,
- marble hornets: tim wright,
- mass effect: commander shepard,
- osomatsu-san: ichimatsu matsuno,
- pokemon sun & moon: guzma,
- the league: jules dagger samari,
- undertale: chara dreemurr,
- ✖ dangan ronpa: hinata hajime,
- ✖ fragile dreams: crow,
- ✖ the adventure zone: lup,
- ✖ undertale: frisk,
- ✖ undertale: muffet
I Think I Got Too Many Memories Getting In The Way Of Me
Who: Anyone willing to deal with an armed, violent-prone child having a tantrum
What: Chara's horrible, no good, very bad day. Someone's getting stabbed! Potentially multiple people! Someone's getting punched in the face! Potentially multiple people!
When: 11th to the 13th of April
Where: everywhere
Warnings: violence, stabbings, generally please don't tag into this if you're not into your character being physically or verbally attacked f-ff
11th - Even At The Best Of Times I'm Out Of My Mind | Islet One
They aren't the type of child who seeks out others, when something happens. Something awful, something utterly out of their control. They do not want to talk about it. They will not cry, nor sulk. There will be very few, if history has proven anything, who will even realize they have been slighted in some way at all.
And then there are those who are on island one when Chara walks up to that now empty abode. And perhaps, they will also not realize that anything is out of the norm-- but they'll certainly take stock of the suddenly flaming knife in their hand, the very same one that embeds itself in the cottage with four, additional rooms added to it, the one with no owner.
The knife, still on fire, remains embedded in now smoking wood. Calmly, Chara takes out a second knife.
And up in flames that one goes, as well.
11-13th - You Only Get What You Grieve | E4
According to some, setting houses on fire is not a healthy outlet for stress.
Which, realistically, is probably fair. The solution to this problem is not to stab inanimate objects, no sir. So how about some animate ones, instead?
The fact that the centipuppies are kind of cute doesn't mitigate the issues they cause- a pack of the creatures could go after a singular target with ease. A cute nuisance. A potentially dangerous nuisance. There would likely be one or two people not too keen on the burning carcasses they've left strewn about the place, but centipuppies aren't docile. They're not a rare creature upon Enso, either; ridding the beach of a single pack isn't problematic at all.
Not even slightly.
If anything, the ordeal becomings something of a mind numbing task, child walking up and down the stretch of the beach, watching out for stragglers. For the next two days, it's all they're going to do. Walk. Wait. And when the situation calls for it
Lash out.
13th, closed to Frisk, Lup, and Tim - Are You Smelling That Shit? | Islet 3
[Their flowers are wilted.
Three days without attention, and Chara should have expected this, really. It's not as if the plants themselves are going to die; they're sturdy enough to take a bit of thirst, a slight amount of burn at the edges of their petals from a harsh sun. The majority of them will love; there are even more shoots to grow, ready to take the place of those that won't.
But there are those that won't.
Frowning critically, Chara considers- the various things they could and should be doing, at this point. Carefully pruning the leaves and picking off the wilted buds, mixing the earth with some more most soil. Watering them all. It's a sizeable enough patch now that it should take a few hours for just the one person- plenty enough to keep them moving until they're tired, ready to find... perhaps ready to collapse into their hammock, after a few days of sleeping outside.
And yet, they don't move just yet. There's so much to do here- and moreso, if they would pay attention to anything else. They haven't been looking for food, the past few days. Haven't been collecting resources to trade with Lup and Taako. Haven't been to the new island past a brief, cursory look; the familiar, tell-tale itch of curiosity absent. Haven't spoken to Frisk or Tim since he-- since this started. There is a great deal to do.
They don't move just yet.]
What: Chara's horrible, no good, very bad day. Someone's getting stabbed! Potentially multiple people! Someone's getting punched in the face! Potentially multiple people!
When: 11th to the 13th of April
Where: everywhere
Warnings: violence, stabbings, generally please don't tag into this if you're not into your character being physically or verbally attacked f-ff
11th - Even At The Best Of Times I'm Out Of My Mind | Islet One
They aren't the type of child who seeks out others, when something happens. Something awful, something utterly out of their control. They do not want to talk about it. They will not cry, nor sulk. There will be very few, if history has proven anything, who will even realize they have been slighted in some way at all.
And then there are those who are on island one when Chara walks up to that now empty abode. And perhaps, they will also not realize that anything is out of the norm-- but they'll certainly take stock of the suddenly flaming knife in their hand, the very same one that embeds itself in the cottage with four, additional rooms added to it, the one with no owner.
The knife, still on fire, remains embedded in now smoking wood. Calmly, Chara takes out a second knife.
And up in flames that one goes, as well.
11-13th - You Only Get What You Grieve | E4
According to some, setting houses on fire is not a healthy outlet for stress.
Which, realistically, is probably fair. The solution to this problem is not to stab inanimate objects, no sir. So how about some animate ones, instead?
The fact that the centipuppies are kind of cute doesn't mitigate the issues they cause- a pack of the creatures could go after a singular target with ease. A cute nuisance. A potentially dangerous nuisance. There would likely be one or two people not too keen on the burning carcasses they've left strewn about the place, but centipuppies aren't docile. They're not a rare creature upon Enso, either; ridding the beach of a single pack isn't problematic at all.
Not even slightly.
If anything, the ordeal becomings something of a mind numbing task, child walking up and down the stretch of the beach, watching out for stragglers. For the next two days, it's all they're going to do. Walk. Wait. And when the situation calls for it
Lash out.
13th, closed to Frisk, Lup, and Tim - Are You Smelling That Shit? | Islet 3
[Their flowers are wilted.
Three days without attention, and Chara should have expected this, really. It's not as if the plants themselves are going to die; they're sturdy enough to take a bit of thirst, a slight amount of burn at the edges of their petals from a harsh sun. The majority of them will love; there are even more shoots to grow, ready to take the place of those that won't.
But there are those that won't.
Frowning critically, Chara considers- the various things they could and should be doing, at this point. Carefully pruning the leaves and picking off the wilted buds, mixing the earth with some more most soil. Watering them all. It's a sizeable enough patch now that it should take a few hours for just the one person- plenty enough to keep them moving until they're tired, ready to find... perhaps ready to collapse into their hammock, after a few days of sleeping outside.
And yet, they don't move just yet. There's so much to do here- and moreso, if they would pay attention to anything else. They haven't been looking for food, the past few days. Haven't been collecting resources to trade with Lup and Taako. Haven't been to the new island past a brief, cursory look; the familiar, tell-tale itch of curiosity absent. Haven't spoken to Frisk or Tim since he-- since this started. There is a great deal to do.
They don't move just yet.]
no subject
[Tim doesn't deserve to be talked to like that. They know, they know with that same alarm bell that shrills in the back of their mind, that they're being too rude and it's not okay; the closer, more cognizant understanding that he's just trying to help. Tim is always trying to help. Always trying to be someone that it's too late for them to have - someone they don't need anymore.]
[But he cares enough to try. And that's good. And they care, too.]
[But not right now.]
...
I didn't forget. We talked about this before. You said - you were always going to hurt.
no subject
[His hurts are things he's lived with his entire life. Sometimes he can ride them out, like a wave broken up against a cliffside. Cut the taste of his meds with the smell of salt, the spray of ocean water on his lips, the scent of flowers. Borrowed memory from sparking neurons, tuning-fork souls.]
[It's one of the reasons he can shrug that away. Anger is a strange color on them. He won't begrudge their capacity to use it a little more than they historically choose to.]
[They licked the pad of their thumb and rubbed it at the slate to clean it all off, chalk dust and ink. Rubbed it all out, except you could still kinda see what still written on it before.]
[But try as you might, ]
What about you?
no subject
[their choices don't matter.]
[they can't stop the tears that carve quiet paths down the dust on their face.]
... that's what I mean.
I told you what someone always said. That I should FIGHT back. He thought it would make me hurt less, but it doesn't. It just makes me hurt like him. I don't want that. I don't want to hurt people when I'm hurt.
...
It's harder than just killing.
no subject
Can you forgive yourself if you do?
[You can't thumb this away, Tim. You haven't earned that right. Not when you barreled into the two of them, cut them apart with an act that was a violence in and of itself. He can't - but that doesn't mean they have to be alone in it, right?]
...do you think you can walk right now?
no subject
I've forgiven everyone.
[Frisk glances away from him, scrubs their sleeve up over their eyes, thumbs away some of the blood gummed up in their nostril. Then they nod without turning their gaze. Yes. They can walk. Forward, relentlessly.]
no subject
Probably best to get inside, you know? Warmer in there.
[And there's a tigerlily that could probably do with the company. Of course.]
no subject
[For a few breaths they stay like that, looking at the ground. Their thumb rubbing circles into their wrist through fabric, where Chara grabbed them. Then their eyes skate back up to Tim, and they let go of their arm and reach their hand up towards him, almost imploringly. It halts, and it hovers, for a heartbeat.]
[Just for a heartbeat.]
[And then they start to lower it, and turn towards the shack, and begin walking.]
no subject
[It's a good thing self-consciousness went out the window a while ago.]
You can...I mean, if you want, you - [His inability to be a relatively normal person, however, endures.]
[In the end, he settles for holding out his hand, in case they, uh...change their mind.]
[It just didn't occur to him that they would want him touching them again.]
no subject
[They don't, actually. They don't want anyone touching them. They hurt and they're gross and they're bad, they're so bad that even Chara hates them now. They don't want anyone to have anything to do with them. That split second was selfish, and stupid, and just because they know what it feels like to be wanted sometimes now doesn't mean]
[they should ask to be.]
[but they turn around and reach up again, grabbing Tim's fingers and keeping their eyes down, looking away. His hand is warm and soft and naked and human; smells like - like - no hand they know. Not cinnamon, or bones, or dust, or blood. Something in that is wrong, but they don't mind. It's something. It's anything. It's Tim.]
[They won't move again, until he does.]
no subject
[What do you do when someone needs it but doesn't want it - or wants it, but not from you, only there's no one else around?]
[The question splinters and breaks upon contact with the slipping of a smaller hand around his. They don't look at him, but they hold onto him, and - he offers a vague little squeeze, like that might be consolation.]
Come on. Let's get you inside.
no subject
[Just... ok.]
[...]
[... no. Not just OK. Not at all, maybe never before. A bit of that hot, thready anger flickers back to life inside of them, pulling through their insides like scorched wire, but it's self-contained and silent. They can do that, at least, after acting the way they did. It won't fix anything. But they don't have to tell Tim that the soft squeeze of his fingers is out of a tight, quiet fury more than anything else.]
[It's not OK. What they did was never OK. It's never been more obvious than it has today, in the last few minutes, in the last few seconds of boiling anger. Frisk is tired of pretending like they're protecting some kind of valuable secret, when they've done nothing but build up this house of burning cards. They haven't been protecting anything, all this time. Not even themselves. Not even when they thought themselves was all they were protecting. It's all... dumb and stupid. And a waste of everything. And they don't want to do it anymore.]
[It's time to Quit.]
[They look away from the ground, but not quite at Tim; away from him, into the gray horizon.]
I'll show you something.
no subject
[A protest worms its way up to the back of his throat naturally. He swallows it down.]
Sure. Sure, if you want.
[Drawing close to the house means that he can touch his tongue to the back of his mouth an make a soft clucking noise, just enough to draw out the orange-striped, felid head of the tigerlily that lives there. The poor thing with far too many names, but probably makes a better comfort than Tim himself.]