through a glass darkly @esoptron - Tumblr Blog

ΕΣΟΠΤΡΟΝ | THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY

Labyrinths, minotaurs, human specimens, twilight zones, penumbras, connective tissue to humanity, and quirked up psychosexual men.

Howdy :]

Indie multi-muse RP blog from my brain. Comics focused, only marginally canon compliant. Selective, OC/multiverse/crossover friendly. Very slow replies, curmudgeonly writer, happy to throw my hat in the ring of tumblr rp once more.

Current muses: Second Corinthian (Sandman), Bruce Wayne (DC)

CARRD | RULES | VISUALS

Written & drawn by Quinn.

#rebranding as a multimuse for my own comfort and funsies #sandman rp #comics rp #dc rp #ooc

ohisms

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 . ( a collection of headcanon prompts based on each zodiac sign . adjust questions as desired . )

⊹ — ARIES . ≻ how does your muse handle competition ? ≻ what is your muse's biggest regret ? ≻ how does your muse handle losing control ? ≻ how does your muse express their passion ?

⊹ — TAURUS . ≻ what is your muse's most prized possession ? ≻ how does your character show their reliability ? ≻ what is your muse's favorite way to relax ? ≻ what simple things does your muse find joy in ?

⊹ — GEMINI . ≻ how does your muse communicate with others ? ≻ how does your muse handle the duality within themselves ? ≻ is your character predictable ? unpredictable ? ≻ how does your muse react to change ?

⊹ — CANCER . ≻ how does your muse react to emotional manipulation ? ≻ what is your muse's most treasured family tradition ? ≻ what is a cherished memory your muse holds close ? ≻ how does your muse express love & care ?

⊹ — LEO . ≻ does your muse lead others effectively ? ≻ what is your muse's most arrogant behavior ? ≻ is your character confident ? charismatic ? ≻ how does your muse handle being ignored ?

⊹ — VIRGO . ≻ what is your muse's most dedicated project ? ≻ how does your muse assist others in times of need ? ≻ what are your muse's standards for themselves ? ≻ what does your muse find beauty in ?

⊹ — LIBRA . ≻ how does your muse bring balance to their surroundings ? ≻ is your muse a people pleaser ? ≻ how does your muse navigate justice & mercy ? ≻ how does your muse handle having to confront someone ?

⊹ — SCORPIO . ≻ what is your muse's most transformative experience ? ≻ is your muse the jealous type ? are they possessive ? ≻ does your muse engage in introspection often ? ≻ how does your muse deal with obsession ?

⊹ — SAGITTARIUS . ≻ is your muse a workaholic ? what's their view of workaholics ? ≻ what is your muse's most reckless decision ? ≻ how does your muse handle commitment ? ≻ does your muse experience wanderlust ? where would they go ?

⊹ — CAPRICORN . ≻ how does your muse demonstrate their ambition ? ≻ is your muse an optimist , realist, or pessimist ? ≻ does your muse value their legacy ? what have they done to ensure it ? ≻ what is your muse's average daily routine ?

⊹ — AQUARIUS . ≻ what is a cause or a movement your muse is deeply involved in ? ≻ how does your muse handle unpredictability ? ≻ does your muse challenge the status quo ? how ? ≻ what subject or field is your muse passionate about learning ?

⊹ — PISCES . ≻ is your muse sensitive, or do they have a thick skin ? ≻ does your muse have any escapist behaviors ? ≻ what does your muse dream about ? are they lucid , do they sleepwalk ? ≻ how does your muse handle harsh criticism ?

"Stop looking at me like that." -> Corinthian

The rest of vampires doesn't line up with the biological (aka, living) function of sleep. No brainwaves, no REM cycles, no neural recovery of dendrites reknitting each other into better configurations during slumber. Hardly enough space for standing room in a vampire's hyppocampus as memory and emotion calcified on top of each other over centuries.

Sure didn't stop them from daydreaming. That'll have to do for nightmares to come though, more intrusive thought than unconsciousness.

The Look he gets is Louis's face, memories gone pale and bleached out. A faded reenactment of Louis's Look with no light behind the eyes for seven years. The Look falling two kilometers down. The Look in Paris hollowed out of any warmth. The Look, though Lestat wasn't there to witness it, for decades after when Louis saw himself in the mirror and wished the myth of having no reflection was true so that he didn't have to see the result of himself.

Do you understand?

He doesn't hate you. He hates himself, because of you. Because of loving you. You will never get the relief of punishment when it can always get turned inwards on the one you love best.

This idea is fed to Lestat's thoughts like a teleprompter in a stranger's voice, not a vampire's Mind Gift, just a humble mold spore rooting in sore spots that are already there.

The pale--drained of color, really--phantom that looks like Louis takes a more solid presence in Lestat's apartment. It wears Louis's sunglasses, dresses in a white suit out of the twentieth century they'd left behind. The phantom also scoffs though his teeth and shakes his head. The Corinthian plays resigned bitterness with everything he's got.

"How am I supposed to be looking at you, then?" Tired, stubborn, passive. "...fine." The eyes behind the sunglasses don't look quite right, but the turn of his head catches reflected light before it's clear he's salivating at the eyesockets.

#ic #eladead #c

Im thinking of the meta of mirrors reflecting each other again, and aside from reflecting each others appetites (representation of "SELF"), i feel like the other direction to cause @nightmarecountry 's Corinth pain (positive) and suffering (affectionate) is Cory taking the shape of Dream (only other relative bigger monster) which is. Ogh. Ourh. That's not right. No one enjoys this. It's kind of silly. It's kind of a huge downer. That's also the point.

#ooc #reflections #c #cory you have such fondness for punching the shallow excitement out of sadomasochism and turning it miserably claustrophobic #anyway cory and corinth about to engage in the worst dom and sub drop ever in unrecorded history and then b like 5/5 stars wouldnt recommend

Cory is so whipped for being a queerplatonic service dom to everyone and anyone. I know this is by design. Still makes him a big damn softie weirdo that gets melting butterflies in his ribs from stepping on peoples hands.

#you ever meet a guy that likes people hurting so bad that he shakes like a 23 year old chihuahua about it #let him break you pls pls pls pls #ooc #reflections #c

"You’re distracting me, you know." -> Bruce LOL

A blink from middle distance where the crew are busy setting up bounce lights and all kinds of meaningless props... to the close front and center face that now dominates Bruce's vision. A trickle of animal high alert sharpens his attention on the celebrity sitting next to him as they wait for the cameras to be ready.

BODE's Spring Collection, a funding drive for the Elton John Foundation, a spliced together tabloid interview afterwards. It's all very....fine. Musicians aren't Bruce's usual crowd, but it's not unusual either. Spend enough time in performative spaces where the overlap between actual humanitarian good and loud, decorative personalities is a full circle--stranger collaborations have happened.

And The Vampire Lestat is not wearing eye contacts. And the studio lighting catches under the deathly translucence (palor mortis?) of his skin in a way that makeup cannot do. Neither are damning. Neither are reasons in themselves for him to volunteer himself to the photoshoot to suss out the performer up close--but they're helpful details that correlate.

He smiles and gives in a small huffy laugh, legs crossing and hands knitted with one elbow leaned over the back of the studio chair. The kind of affable lean back and confidently sheepish grin that says oh stop and keep going.

"Please," he says and rolls his hand towards the set. "They could make a plucked chicken look good if you give them long enough. It's all angles." He sets an even stare to Lestat, a kind of soft-sharp gaze of feigned half-attention.

"Besides, I figure you get to see plenty of fascinating people on tour, I'm surprised you aren't used to it by now."

#ic #eladead #b #i wake ))

resourcesofaqueen

send 🔥 + a spicy question for my muse.

this could be a question about their kinks, about fantasies, about preferences etc.

#u kno what #sure

"I dare you to try." [ hi cory ily ]

"You'd dare me to do anything," he yawns.

It all started with debating whether either of them remembered what eating a blind person's eyes looked like.

There is an element of taboo about it. They shouldn't be anywhere close to Waking, and they reaaaaally shouldn't be in the Waking together. Simultaneously. Conspiratorially.

The medical school teaching morgue is a good place to find bodies no one is going to mind the damage to.

He pulls out the metal sliding table from one of the drawers and regards the corpse briefly. His dream pulse picks up, nervous, excited. He has to lean over to get a good angle over its face to dig into the sockets.

"You're not getting out of it either," he snaps and holds out one eyeball accusingly. "If I'm doing it, so are you."

#ic #nightmarecountry #c

"You have no idea, do you?"

[ corinth peering into bruce's psyche: huh. ]

Silent buzzing hums in him like a radio with its audio cut out. All input received and no output.

.... Bruce is being dramatic. Nothing has changed, and it's not like these moods are unusual. They pass. They always pass. They're an acceptable biproduct of living.

What he doesn't like is this twilight between sleep and wakefulness. One second pouring over a casefile to try to put out of his mind the night before. Guilt and shame, sure, losing track of a lead, but worse the weird click of satisfied relief that only happened on the worst nights when he was the rogue of the week's object of terror. He managed out of it. All was well. If he felt some way about it, that feeling is gently banished. He had work to do.

The next second feeling that dropping sensation of sleep, and startling to see a pale stranger.

His thoughts come--not groggy, but limited and stilted in the way one gets when they're not lucidly dreaming enough to think rationally, but lucid enough to be aware and decide semi-consciously.

In this case, Bruce accepts that the stranger appearing here in his cave as normal, but very much wants it to leave.

He stands up quickly from the computer, hands loose to respond quickly. His heartrate is measured. Distantly, the muted buzz gets louder. His eyes narrow.

"Be more specific," he says. "What do you want?" His heartrate continues to be measured, he doesn't shake. The silence gets even louder.

And the falling sensation ends with the jolt one gets when they wake up after a doze. Bruce jerks upright at the desk, whips his head to the corner where the stranger stood. His chest hurts.

He hates seeing that man in his dreams.

#ic #nightmarecountry #b

"I shouldn’t be this close." [ don't look at my salivating eyemouths when we fight, cory. ]

"Oh yeah?"

He laughs in his throat, definitely more hyena noise than human chuckle. There's a lot of sweat and panting involved for two fleshless things that have neither pores nor lungs to be doing all of that with. Cory appreciates the novelty of being the one getting handed his ass for once. Usually he'd be predisposed to playing alpha dog all over Corinth, but this is ok too. Doesn't stop him from digging his fingers into Corinth's side hard enough that it feels like he's trying to make his fingerpads slough off from bone to hurt harder.

"What're you afraid of, Cor?" he singsongs, and cocks his head to the side to smile up at the reluctant drooly face. Poor sap. Better make it even worse for him.

Cory licks the side of his left eye where some of the saliva's dropped down onto his face. And swallows.

"Afraid of what you shouldn't want up this close?"

#ic #nightmarecountry #c #yuckin it up with fluids mmmmm

"I'm trying my best to care and, frankly, I'm failing." [ astarion @ bruce SORRY. ]

B can't do anything but stare vexedly between the bled-out body in the alley and Astarion, currently handcuffed, blood-stained, and apparently remorseless. He'd broken up the 'fight' moments before, moments too late. His mouth thins out into a tight line, the usual fury when murder is part of the picture warring with puzzling out the what to do about it.

He exhales forcefully, decision made.

He kneels down next to Astarion first to get a closer look without getting within fang range. He doesn't ask the obvious, but instead.

"What's your name? How did this happen to you?"

#ic #formshaper #b

"Keep pushing, and you’ll regret it." //for cori!

He stands on top of where Sleip is prone on his back. One boot has Sleip's wrist wedged awkwardly in the space between the heel and the rest of the sole, half-pinned and half-stepping on it.

Sleip threatens him. He pushes his foot a little harder into the little bones, and makes a thoughtful "huh" noise.

"Maybe," he says, distracted, and crouches down to be closer, his feet staying exactly where they are to keep him there. Cory jogs the flat of his knife against his thigh, restless.

He's trying to figure out what's enough god-blood for someone's eyes to no longer count as human.

"I met your dad, once, you know," he chats, and holds the knife in a stylus grip to tap it on Sleip's sternum. His glasses reveal little, but his teeth are smiling behind them even as his expression stays neutral. "Were you two close?"

#ic #idontkillorphans #c

"I know what you want." [ desire @ bruce. uh oh. ignore the fact that they're not on my muse list rn shhh ]

Cults weren't always--rarely were--the flashy bloodfest that movies and news made them out to be. Most of the horrors came from social viciousness without any direct violence ever having to happen. Everyone could be convinced they needed something they never had.

A missing person is a missing person, and this apartment building/commune/wellness group was the last lead Bruce had. The building was quiet, its residents asleep in shared bedrooms.

...he had sworn all its residents asleep. He stops mid-rifling through the group leader's filing cabinet that contained all their birth certificates, ID cards, insurance....jesus it was worse than he thought. His head snaps up, reflection catching on dull lenses as they look up to the.....that isn't the home leader. Who is that? One of the members? They look far too well-off for that. A chill of suspicion sets him on edge. Don't take his eyes off of them.

He answers the clear bluff with a long silence at first. But if the stranger could help get information...

"And what is it that you think I want?"

#ic #formshaper #b #“HM DONT LIKE THAT”

"You’re distracting me, you know." [ dream 2.0 @ his special twice-made meow meow ]

"How is that possible?"

He twirls his foot at the ankle, relaxed....Mmmmaybe not as relaxed as it first suggests. There's a jerky flick at the end like the rhythm of a cat tail.

He's bored.

Bored has meant causing problems on purpose. Bored has meant making himself deeply uncomfortable on purpose. Bored has meant being very blatant and loud about appearing in places he shouldn't, trusting that the lecture and reprimand would be there to course-correct.

He sits on a table within one of Dream's highest towers, a proverbial brainworm invading attics he shouldn't.

He hasn't opened or touched a thing. Not a single chest, not a single book, nothing. Barely looked anywhere other than forward across the floor until Dream arrived. The disobedience feels vapid on his skin. He exhales a pissy, frustrated vibration through his larynx.

"You're everything, and little ol' me is distracting you?"

#ic #c #formshaper