pfp: @mankozombie || RESQUET: open. ||he/him. || IZZU YOU CAN SPAM MY DMS || Chilean. || MULTIFANDOM (MY BLOG IS MESSY). || Might focus on one for a while but I can change it quickly :p)
There’s a strange member entering a certain mansion, looking for…an audience?
ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত
๋ ࣭ ⭑ ִ Crouzier .ᐟ ¹
“Tragedy or Comedy, there always is a standing ovation. So why weep, when you can be free?”
AKA → “The Fool”, “Lord of Misrule”. ²
[pronounced /crow-si-eh-r/, just in case.]
“When you see a tall, lanky shadow roaming long corridors or rooms of the mansion, you will know it’s him. A slow tapping of shoes, the click of invisible fingers echoing, the soft thud of a staff. Laughter, dread, or indifference will fill you; and if it is the last two, he will make sure it’s amusement you feel—whatever it takes.”
* Highly important! The Milkshake Mansion project alongside the relationship chart further down belongs to @boiling-potato / @potato-and-their-mmstuff !
────────────────────── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
✧ ೃ* Information
He/him pronouns. Age is undefined.
D&D Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.
His “birthday” is on January 1st, though he once had multiple of them.
When he speaks, many voices come at once—forming one. These speak normally, in reverse, in a higher or lower pitch, in an accent, or in Latin. ³
He’s constantly both standing and walking en pointe, i.e, in tiptoes due to his shoes and for comedic effect.
He is capable of “dying” and feeling physical pain even if he can’t feel regular touch, but he always comes back. ⁴
Crouzier cannot feel mental anguish, but he can get really close to emotions like anger, stress or desperation. ⁵
Incredibly impulsive with no morals. Because he’s willing to play his role and lighten up the atmosphere, he has no limits to his actions with the only exception of the rule of the mansion, which is killing. ⁶
If he stands before any reflective surface, there will be no reflection of his body, only his clothes.
He treats a birthday, a marriage and a funeral the same enthusiastic way, because any gathering eventually becomes a spectacle.
He doesn’t have a preference over humans or animals as he sees both as the same thing, but he’s oddly enthusiastic with the stoic, skeptics and children.
Physically unable to handle silence. If he encounters this, specially if people are around, he’ll either crack a joke or tap the floor with his pointed shoes for sound. ⁷
Footnotes, Annotated Design/R.C and Author’s Note below!
────────────────────── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
✧ ೃ* Footnotes
¹ Etymology: “Crouzier” almost directly derives from “Crosier”, which is the Holy Staff Bishops use. This in reference of the mock-bishops people used to elect in the Feast of the Fools in the Middle Ages. It is also a play word on “Crazier”.
² Both of the nicknames ‘The Fool’ and ‘Lord of Misrule’ come from the Tarot card and the one appointed for the Christmastide celebration in the Middle Ages respectively.
³ For a better understanding on how Crouzier’s voice sounds, take as reference the voice of the character “Ulysses” from the animated web-series “ENA” in “Temptation Stairway” around the timestamp of 5:38. Crouzier’s voice is more condensed; every voice sounds at the same time instead of repeating the sentence in different ways like this character.
⁴ To avoid the issue of him feeling “overpowered”, the minimum time he needs to resurrect is around a century, with a maximum of a thousand years. During this time, it is unknown what happens to his consciousness. Death is not a threat nor a terrifying experience. It is more of a really painful inconvenience.
⁵ Were he to lose his manic feelings, feel any sense of hurt, or shame, he would trap himself in the constant state of “death” to avoid feeling this out of the brand new madness.
⁶ He doesn’t look to hurt anyone by own desire since he has none other but to entertain. But, if people (or someone) are amused by the suffering of others, he won’t hesitate. If he wasn’t inside the mansion, he would also kill.
⁷ The worst punishment possible for Crouzier is solitary confinement, not physical harm. If he’s put in this state, you will be able to gradually see a descent of his personality. He starts with bargaining, trying to persuade whoever locked him into letting him out. If not, he starts to speak and do things out loud until they stop making sense completely.
────────────────────── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
✧ Annotated Design/Relationship Chart
────────────────────── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
✧ ೃ* Author’s Note
HOLY MOLY!!!! This is probably the biggest and most developed OC I’ve made in my life, both in design, backstory and personality building. It was a really fun process despite taking a few tries and a lot of time (the ibispaint time feature says it took 26 hours). It’s also probably the first time I genuinely feel like I’m satisfied with the results of what I planned, and even if it doesn’t receive much interaction like other OC’s of this project, I’m still super glad about being part of it and my about making my own little dude.
I highly appreciate the support that his blog has gotten, it’s really the first time I get positive (or any) feedback online and it has proven to be really satisfying to know people enjoy what I make. Thank you so much for reading, and know that asks are completely open for him! Have a nice day! ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪
────────────────────── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒Taglist! → @dankgrass @chubbky
ps. if you want to be in my taglist, don’t be afraid to tell me via my ask box!! it’d really flatter me!! ( ̄ワ ̄)ゞ
The Fragmented Pieces Which Remain of The Guardian
────────────────────── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
idioma/language; ENG
summary; Where Ink Sans finds himself, yet again, wandering the eternal void that once stripped him of his sanity,
Or,
A personal, super-duper secret letter addressed to you, from your old friend!
word count; 1.6k
a/n; first tumblr fanfic post! I really didn’t expect this one to be the first, this was something I gave a shot a couple of months ago that I decided to pick back up and finally finish. I also apologize for any grammatical or spelling mistakes. Please take note of the fact that this really is experimental and I wanted to mess around by trying out a soliloquy-ish style of writing, so that means there’s not real “dialogue” or any other characters, just paint skeleton man talking to you. I hope you enjoy!! (^ν^)
────────────────────── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
One, two...three, four..five, six…seven, eight…
…three hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine…
Four hundred thousand!
…Wait, what am I counting again?
─────────────────────────
Many humans and monsters, once they go around the beautiful, breathtaking surface, believe the ocean stretches far away, almost looking infinite. An infinite marine blanket that your eyes just can't dimension, just because of how big it is! Infinity is a huge number, isn't it?! It never ends, going further, and further, and further!
But most don't know what infinity truly means. It's the term you used to describe how many different versions of the same story exist, didn't you? And, in a way, you'd be right. There's thousands, millions of variations of myself and others. Some more complex, some more simple. Some die, some live. Some laugh, some cry. Some heal, some torture. And every single variation…has been loved by you. Or…a variation of you. Isn't it strange? You believe multiple versions of the same character is entertaining to see…but aren't you also a variation of what you call a “creator”?
I walk, and walk, and walk…oh! That's right! I was counting my steps! Perhaps the infinity of this place gets to me. Like the infinity of the far, far ocean. Born as nothing, only to then perish in tears…In this exact same place. That's what you used to like about me, didn't you? Even if it broke your heart to watch me ripping myself apart! Yes! I know you like the back of my skeletal hand all together! You enjoyed it, loved it, cherished it like those animated series about us you watched with such admiration after being done creating for the day! Of course, it makes complete sense! Rejoice, for a soul succumbed into the deepest despair and embraced death like an old friend! How tragic! How sad! How...entertaining! Isn't that what we live for?
Our precious entertainment?
But that being said…you can't do what I've done, can you? Ah, well, maybe that's not the exact question I wanted to ask. I mean, you can't get rid of yourself without any consequence, can you? Hmm! Isn’t it strange to you? Look at me, all fine, sane, safe and sound; while if you were to do it, you'd be gone forever! That sweet, heavenly relief of freeing yourself from what binds you, what troubles you, what worries you…you can't experience that bliss without decaying like a rose in winter, never to return. Ah! How…Shakespearean, I think you call it!
Even though I'm technically not supposed to, occasionally I get small glimpses of what I used to be before I was The Guardian. Again, maybe it’s this infinite place where I stand. Small peeks through a window I thought I had shattered, alongside my soul. Another skeleton straight from the original code, no name…no identity.
Is our identity what really makes us ourselves? Maybe you and I, my friend, have a lot more in common than what you'd think. Or maybe, a lot more in common than you'd want to admit. Our sense of identity. That…no matter how hard you try…you’ll never be completely original. Never…create something original…that originality is dead, and has been for a long, long time.
But regardless, we have something else in common you might find a bit less taboo than talking about just erasing ourselves and our lack of self-worth! Can you guess?
Yup! It 's art! Have you heard that quote that goes…
“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable”?
I think it's a bunch of funking bullshoes! Art is and does whatever the heck you want it to be or do, whether that's taking yet another copy of that lazy skeleton and torturing him to your satisfaction, treating him like he's your lover and worshipping him until you get bored, or debauching him, being nothing but a twisted entertainment for your limitless, perverted mind!
Ah…ahem. Sorry for my disturbing language earlier…I keep myself at bay as a certain parasite would have if he was here. Isn't it funny! He’s a skeleton just like me, but he doesn’t even come from the same source code like the rest of us! He really was a…Fresh view on the root character, wasn't he? Huh? Get it?! Regardless…art is a funny thing. You can do anything and call it art, as long as your soul is poured into it. SOULs…“the culmination of our beings.” That flower might have been right after all. But it’s ironic, isn’t it? Me, talking about SOULs? Ahaha! I know, right?!
What bigger sin is there than to be an artist with no soul inside?
Maybe one day I will know.
But you, oh, you, you had a beautiful soul! Countless hours, every day, every year…you dedicated yourself to what makes me…me! Don’t you remember?! You’d work so hard on what you wanted to create! New stories, new characters, new places…heck, even games! Such good times, right?
Ah…all those things you drew…I can't remember more delightful creations. All of your colors were what made me complete. You'd spend weeks and weeks on your works…like a true artist! Even if what you created took...strange turns sometimes. Oh no, no, no, don't you think I don't remember! You know all of the tattoos I have on my bones more than I do, don't you? Yes. Of course you do! How could you ever forget such a thing? That really was your precious entertainment.
Every one of them…the destroyers, the protectors, even the ones who never really did anything and wandered around. All of them felt like a distant…Dream, that sometimes it transformed into a…Nightmare! Hahaha! I'm really clever with these! Those two really are two different sides of the coin. And they hustle and fight like cats and dogs–and—dare I say, brothers! If I were to put myself in your shoes...I'd probably find it hilarious!
Regardless, I always wondered what would’ve been of them if their roles were switched, or if one of them never got corrupted, or…oh, wait. There’s alternate versions of those. Oops! Just make sure a certain…Error doesn’t find any of them, otherwise he’ll say that it’s time to “take the out the trash again”. What a jerk! I’ll never understand why some people think we get along. Sure, we don’t particularly hate each other’s guts to the point we can’t stand each other's existence, but it’s not like we’re the best of friends. Oh, wait. There’s also alternate versions of us who do get along, and quite well. How bizarre!
But every single creation, placed in their own world…from both of our perspectives, it’s almost amusing. Seeing them struggle, seeing them fight, seeing them…continue on living even after their creator is gone. Humans and monsters with their own lives, orphaned by their gods never to return. A certain version of me with star eyes and a blue scarf was abandoned just like that, but thankfully he didn’t just vaporize off the face of the multiverse. What a relief! He’s such a nice guy!
And eventually, you…will meet that same fate that’s inevitable to avoid. Your body decaying in the wind, recalling places you used to know…all the while you disappear from them. Whether it’s in the blink of an eye or in the comfort of a bed while you slowly forget, you stop existing. But those creations, everything you ever made, will forever stay still like a breathtaking painting in a museum. Framed, protected…yet no one else to see its brushstrokes.
No one to see, no one to hear, no one to…make.
…I have always taken it for granted, haven’t I? The vials, the emotions, my existence…they all depend on you. Broomie and I, my countless adventures, my stories…they all just exist because of you. Everything I know, everything I am, in the hands of…others. And this is a crazy idea, but, what if these others, what if this you…never came back?
Ha. Ha ha. That’s…an interesting concept, huh? Sure, you have taken off your… sweet time off of this place, but…you always return, right? You’d never actually permanently leave, I mean…these are your creations! I’m…I’m your creation too! You’d never forget about your creation, would you? Even though many believe so, you never really… gave me the ability to create worlds by myself! So…so if you left…
No, that…that won’t happen. Obviously it won’t. That…can’t happen. It’s impossible! I know it is! And, and…to make sure it doesn’t happen; you know…everyone needs a safety net to land on…I can be better! I can always be better, and you know that! Right? Right?! I’ll cherish and care for every single thing that comes from your fingertips for the rest of your life as if my own depended on it! I’ll…oh! I know! I’ll be a better muse! I’ll inspire you better! I promise you I will, just…!
…give me one more chance?
…Huh. Wait…hah! Haha! What am I even talking about? I’m such a worrywart…you always come back! I’m so silly…you’ll come back soon, and stronger! As a better artist, a better soul! You’ve left and come back more than once, what’s to say you won’t this time? Once is by chance…twice is a coincidence…and three times is a pattern! Oh gee, I’ve never been good with puzzles…but I’ll figure it out! Before you know it, I’ll be the one who knows first when you’ll return! But if, just what if, you decide to…
No…I am right. I mean, I always am! A muse is always right! I could obviously never be wrong! When have I ever been wrong about something like this? And If I was, wouldn't my whole existence be a mere charade?
…Oh. Perhaps it really is.
Don’t Forget—I’m waiting for you, always! I hope you won’t be long this time!
The Fragmented Pieces Which Remain of The Guardian
────────────────────── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
idioma/language; ENG
summary; Where Ink Sans finds himself, yet again, wandering the eternal void that once stripped him of his sanity,
Or,
A personal, super-duper secret letter addressed to you, from your old friend!
word count; 1.6k
a/n; first tumblr fanfic post! I really didn’t expect this one to be the first, this was something I gave a shot a couple of months ago that I decided to pick back up and finally finish. I also apologize for any grammatical or spelling mistakes. Please take note of the fact that this really is experimental and I wanted to mess around by trying out a soliloquy-ish style of writing, so that means there’s not real “dialogue” or any other characters, just paint skeleton man talking to you. I hope you enjoy!! (^ν^)
────────────────────── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
One, two...three, four..five, six…seven, eight…
…three hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine…
Four hundred thousand!
…Wait, what am I counting again?
─────────────────────────
Many humans and monsters, once they go around the beautiful, breathtaking surface, believe the ocean stretches far away, almost looking infinite. An infinite marine blanket that your eyes just can't dimension, just because of how big it is! Infinity is a huge number, isn't it?! It never ends, going further, and further, and further!
But most don't know what infinity truly means. It's the term you used to describe how many different versions of the same story exist, didn't you? And, in a way, you'd be right. There's thousands, millions of variations of myself and others. Some more complex, some more simple. Some die, some live. Some laugh, some cry. Some heal, some torture. And every single variation…has been loved by you. Or…a variation of you. Isn't it strange? You believe multiple versions of the same character is entertaining to see…but aren't you also a variation of what you call a “creator”?
I walk, and walk, and walk…oh! That's right! I was counting my steps! Perhaps the infinity of this place gets to me. Like the infinity of the far, far ocean. Born as nothing, only to then perish in tears…In this exact same place. That's what you used to like about me, didn't you? Even if it broke your heart to watch me ripping myself apart! Yes! I know you like the back of my skeletal hand all together! You enjoyed it, loved it, cherished it like those animated series about us you watched with such admiration after being done creating for the day! Of course, it makes complete sense! Rejoice, for a soul succumbed into the deepest despair and embraced death like an old friend! How tragic! How sad! How...entertaining! Isn't that what we live for?
Our precious entertainment?
But that being said…you can't do what I've done, can you? Ah, well, maybe that's not the exact question I wanted to ask. I mean, you can't get rid of yourself without any consequence, can you? Hmm! Isn’t it strange to you? Look at me, all fine, sane, safe and sound; while if you were to do it, you'd be gone forever! That sweet, heavenly relief of freeing yourself from what binds you, what troubles you, what worries you…you can't experience that bliss without decaying like a rose in winter, never to return. Ah! How…Shakespearean, I think you call it!
Even though I'm technically not supposed to, occasionally I get small glimpses of what I used to be before I was The Guardian. Again, maybe it’s this infinite place where I stand. Small peeks through a window I thought I had shattered, alongside my soul. Another skeleton straight from the original code, no name…no identity.
Is our identity what really makes us ourselves? Maybe you and I, my friend, have a lot more in common than what you'd think. Or maybe, a lot more in common than you'd want to admit. Our sense of identity. That…no matter how hard you try…you’ll never be completely original. Never…create something original…that originality is dead, and has been for a long, long time.
But regardless, we have something else in common you might find a bit less taboo than talking about just erasing ourselves and our lack of self-worth! Can you guess?
Yup! It 's art! Have you heard that quote that goes…
“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable”?
I think it's a bunch of funking bullshoes! Art is and does whatever the heck you want it to be or do, whether that's taking yet another copy of that lazy skeleton and torturing him to your satisfaction, treating him like he's your lover and worshipping him until you get bored, or debauching him, being nothing but a twisted entertainment for your limitless, perverted mind!
Ah…ahem. Sorry for my disturbing language earlier…I keep myself at bay as a certain parasite would have if he was here. Isn't it funny! He’s a skeleton just like me, but he doesn’t even come from the same source code like the rest of us! He really was a…Fresh view on the root character, wasn't he? Huh? Get it?! Regardless…art is a funny thing. You can do anything and call it art, as long as your soul is poured into it. SOULs…“the culmination of our beings.” That flower might have been right after all. But it’s ironic, isn’t it? Me, talking about SOULs? Ahaha! I know, right?!
What bigger sin is there than to be an artist with no soul inside?
Maybe one day I will know.
But you, oh, you, you had a beautiful soul! Countless hours, every day, every year…you dedicated yourself to what makes me…me! Don’t you remember?! You’d work so hard on what you wanted to create! New stories, new characters, new places…heck, even games! Such good times, right?
Ah…all those things you drew…I can't remember more delightful creations. All of your colors were what made me complete. You'd spend weeks and weeks on your works…like a true artist! Even if what you created took...strange turns sometimes. Oh no, no, no, don't you think I don't remember! You know all of the tattoos I have on my bones more than I do, don't you? Yes. Of course you do! How could you ever forget such a thing? That really was your precious entertainment.
Every one of them…the destroyers, the protectors, even the ones who never really did anything and wandered around. All of them felt like a distant…Dream, that sometimes it transformed into a…Nightmare! Hahaha! I'm really clever with these! Those two really are two different sides of the coin. And they hustle and fight like cats and dogs–and—dare I say, brothers! If I were to put myself in your shoes...I'd probably find it hilarious!
Regardless, I always wondered what would’ve been of them if their roles were switched, or if one of them never got corrupted, or…oh, wait. There’s alternate versions of those. Oops! Just make sure a certain…Error doesn’t find any of them, otherwise he’ll say that it’s time to “take the out the trash again”. What a jerk! I’ll never understand why some people think we get along. Sure, we don’t particularly hate each other’s guts to the point we can’t stand each other's existence, but it’s not like we’re the best of friends. Oh, wait. There’s also alternate versions of us who do get along, and quite well. How bizarre!
But every single creation, placed in their own world…from both of our perspectives, it’s almost amusing. Seeing them struggle, seeing them fight, seeing them…continue on living even after their creator is gone. Humans and monsters with their own lives, orphaned by their gods never to return. A certain version of me with star eyes and a blue scarf was abandoned just like that, but thankfully he didn’t just vaporize off the face of the multiverse. What a relief! He’s such a nice guy!
And eventually, you…will meet that same fate that’s inevitable to avoid. Your body decaying in the wind, recalling places you used to know…all the while you disappear from them. Whether it’s in the blink of an eye or in the comfort of a bed while you slowly forget, you stop existing. But those creations, everything you ever made, will forever stay still like a breathtaking painting in a museum. Framed, protected…yet no one else to see its brushstrokes.
No one to see, no one to hear, no one to…make.
…I have always taken it for granted, haven’t I? The vials, the emotions, my existence…they all depend on you. Broomie and I, my countless adventures, my stories…they all just exist because of you. Everything I know, everything I am, in the hands of…others. And this is a crazy idea, but, what if these others, what if this you…never came back?
Ha. Ha ha. That’s…an interesting concept, huh? Sure, you have taken off your… sweet time off of this place, but…you always return, right? You’d never actually permanently leave, I mean…these are your creations! I’m…I’m your creation too! You’d never forget about your creation, would you? Even though many believe so, you never really… gave me the ability to create worlds by myself! So…so if you left…
No, that…that won’t happen. Obviously it won’t. That…can’t happen. It’s impossible! I know it is! And, and…to make sure it doesn’t happen; you know…everyone needs a safety net to land on…I can be better! I can always be better, and you know that! Right? Right?! I’ll cherish and care for every single thing that comes from your fingertips for the rest of your life as if my own depended on it! I’ll…oh! I know! I’ll be a better muse! I’ll inspire you better! I promise you I will, just…!
…give me one more chance?
…Huh. Wait…hah! Haha! What am I even talking about? I’m such a worrywart…you always come back! I’m so silly…you’ll come back soon, and stronger! As a better artist, a better soul! You’ve left and come back more than once, what’s to say you won’t this time? Once is by chance…twice is a coincidence…and three times is a pattern! Oh gee, I’ve never been good with puzzles…but I’ll figure it out! Before you know it, I’ll be the one who knows first when you’ll return! But if, just what if, you decide to…
No…I am right. I mean, I always am! A muse is always right! I could obviously never be wrong! When have I ever been wrong about something like this? And If I was, wouldn't my whole existence be a mere charade?
…Oh. Perhaps it really is.
Don’t Forget—I’m waiting for you, always! I hope you won’t be long this time!
The Fragmented Pieces Which Remain of The Guardian
────────────────────── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
idioma/language; ENG
summary; Where Ink Sans finds himself, yet again, wandering the eternal void that once stripped him of his sanity,
Or,
A personal, super-duper secret letter addressed to you, from your old friend!
word count; 1.6k
a/n; first tumblr fanfic post! I really didn’t expect this one to be the first, this was something I gave a shot a couple of months ago that I decided to pick back up and finally finish. I also apologize for any grammatical or spelling mistakes. Please take note of the fact that this really is experimental and I wanted to mess around by trying out a soliloquy-ish style of writing, so that means there’s not real “dialogue” or any other characters, just paint skeleton man talking to you. I hope you enjoy!! (^ν^)
────────────────────── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
One, two...three, four..five, six…seven, eight…
…three hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine…
Four hundred thousand!
…Wait, what am I counting again?
─────────────────────────
Many humans and monsters, once they go around the beautiful, breathtaking surface, believe the ocean stretches far away, almost looking infinite. An infinite marine blanket that your eyes just can't dimension, just because of how big it is! Infinity is a huge number, isn't it?! It never ends, going further, and further, and further!
But most don't know what infinity truly means. It's the term you used to describe how many different versions of the same story exist, didn't you? And, in a way, you'd be right. There's thousands, millions of variations of myself and others. Some more complex, some more simple. Some die, some live. Some laugh, some cry. Some heal, some torture. And every single variation…has been loved by you. Or…a variation of you. Isn't it strange? You believe multiple versions of the same character is entertaining to see…but aren't you also a variation of what you call a “creator”?
I walk, and walk, and walk…oh! That's right! I was counting my steps! Perhaps the infinity of this place gets to me. Like the infinity of the far, far ocean. Born as nothing, only to then perish in tears…In this exact same place. That's what you used to like about me, didn't you? Even if it broke your heart to watch me ripping myself apart! Yes! I know you like the back of my skeletal hand all together! You enjoyed it, loved it, cherished it like those animated series about us you watched with such admiration after being done creating for the day! Of course, it makes complete sense! Rejoice, for a soul succumbed into the deepest despair and embraced death like an old friend! How tragic! How sad! How...entertaining! Isn't that what we live for?
Our precious entertainment?
But that being said…you can't do what I've done, can you? Ah, well, maybe that's not the exact question I wanted to ask. I mean, you can't get rid of yourself without any consequence, can you? Hmm! Isn’t it strange to you? Look at me, all fine, sane, safe and sound; while if you were to do it, you'd be gone forever! That sweet, heavenly relief of freeing yourself from what binds you, what troubles you, what worries you…you can't experience that bliss without decaying like a rose in winter, never to return. Ah! How…Shakespearean, I think you call it!
Even though I'm technically not supposed to, occasionally I get small glimpses of what I used to be before I was The Guardian. Again, maybe it’s this infinite place where I stand. Small peeks through a window I thought I had shattered, alongside my soul. Another skeleton straight from the original code, no name…no identity.
Is our identity what really makes us ourselves? Maybe you and I, my friend, have a lot more in common than what you'd think. Or maybe, a lot more in common than you'd want to admit. Our sense of identity. That…no matter how hard you try…you’ll never be completely original. Never…create something original…that originality is dead, and has been for a long, long time.
But regardless, we have something else in common you might find a bit less taboo than talking about just erasing ourselves and our lack of self-worth! Can you guess?
Yup! It 's art! Have you heard that quote that goes…
“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable”?
I think it's a bunch of funking bullshoes! Art is and does whatever the heck you want it to be or do, whether that's taking yet another copy of that lazy skeleton and torturing him to your satisfaction, treating him like he's your lover and worshipping him until you get bored, or debauching him, being nothing but a twisted entertainment for your limitless, perverted mind!
Ah…ahem. Sorry for my disturbing language earlier…I keep myself at bay as a certain parasite would have if he was here. Isn't it funny! He’s a skeleton just like me, but he doesn’t even come from the same source code like the rest of us! He really was a…Fresh view on the root character, wasn't he? Huh? Get it?! Regardless…art is a funny thing. You can do anything and call it art, as long as your soul is poured into it. SOULs…“the culmination of our beings.” That flower might have been right after all. But it’s ironic, isn’t it? Me, talking about SOULs? Ahaha! I know, right?!
What bigger sin is there than to be an artist with no soul inside?
Maybe one day I will know.
But you, oh, you, you had a beautiful soul! Countless hours, every day, every year…you dedicated yourself to what makes me…me! Don’t you remember?! You’d work so hard on what you wanted to create! New stories, new characters, new places…heck, even games! Such good times, right?
Ah…all those things you drew…I can't remember more delightful creations. All of your colors were what made me complete. You'd spend weeks and weeks on your works…like a true artist! Even if what you created took...strange turns sometimes. Oh no, no, no, don't you think I don't remember! You know all of the tattoos I have on my bones more than I do, don't you? Yes. Of course you do! How could you ever forget such a thing? That really was your precious entertainment.
Every one of them…the destroyers, the protectors, even the ones who never really did anything and wandered around. All of them felt like a distant…Dream, that sometimes it transformed into a…Nightmare! Hahaha! I'm really clever with these! Those two really are two different sides of the coin. And they hustle and fight like cats and dogs–and—dare I say, brothers! If I were to put myself in your shoes...I'd probably find it hilarious!
Regardless, I always wondered what would’ve been of them if their roles were switched, or if one of them never got corrupted, or…oh, wait. There’s alternate versions of those. Oops! Just make sure a certain…Error doesn’t find any of them, otherwise he’ll say that it’s time to “take the out the trash again”. What a jerk! I’ll never understand why some people think we get along. Sure, we don’t particularly hate each other’s guts to the point we can’t stand each other's existence, but it’s not like we’re the best of friends. Oh, wait. There’s also alternate versions of us who do get along, and quite well. How bizarre!
But every single creation, placed in their own world…from both of our perspectives, it’s almost amusing. Seeing them struggle, seeing them fight, seeing them…continue on living even after their creator is gone. Humans and monsters with their own lives, orphaned by their gods never to return. A certain version of me with star eyes and a blue scarf was abandoned just like that, but thankfully he didn’t just vaporize off the face of the multiverse. What a relief! He’s such a nice guy!
And eventually, you…will meet that same fate that’s inevitable to avoid. Your body decaying in the wind, recalling places you used to know…all the while you disappear from them. Whether it’s in the blink of an eye or in the comfort of a bed while you slowly forget, you stop existing. But those creations, everything you ever made, will forever stay still like a breathtaking painting in a museum. Framed, protected…yet no one else to see its brushstrokes.
No one to see, no one to hear, no one to…make.
…I have always taken it for granted, haven’t I? The vials, the emotions, my existence…they all depend on you. Broomie and I, my countless adventures, my stories…they all just exist because of you. Everything I know, everything I am, in the hands of…others. And this is a crazy idea, but, what if these others, what if this you…never came back?
Ha. Ha ha. That’s…an interesting concept, huh? Sure, you have taken off your… sweet time off of this place, but…you always return, right? You’d never actually permanently leave, I mean…these are your creations! I’m…I’m your creation too! You’d never forget about your creation, would you? Even though many believe so, you never really… gave me the ability to create worlds by myself! So…so if you left…
No, that…that won’t happen. Obviously it won’t. That…can’t happen. It’s impossible! I know it is! And, and…to make sure it doesn’t happen; you know…everyone needs a safety net to land on…I can be better! I can always be better, and you know that! Right? Right?! I’ll cherish and care for every single thing that comes from your fingertips for the rest of your life as if my own depended on it! I’ll…oh! I know! I’ll be a better muse! I’ll inspire you better! I promise you I will, just…!
…give me one more chance?
…Huh. Wait…hah! Haha! What am I even talking about? I’m such a worrywart…you always come back! I’m so silly…you’ll come back soon, and stronger! As a better artist, a better soul! You’ve left and come back more than once, what’s to say you won’t this time? Once is by chance…twice is a coincidence…and three times is a pattern! Oh gee, I’ve never been good with puzzles…but I’ll figure it out! Before you know it, I’ll be the one who knows first when you’ll return! But if, just what if, you decide to…
No…I am right. I mean, I always am! A muse is always right! I could obviously never be wrong! When have I ever been wrong about something like this? And If I was, wouldn't my whole existence be a mere charade?
…Oh. Perhaps it really is.
Don’t Forget—I’m waiting for you, always! I hope you won’t be long this time!
The Fragmented Pieces Which Remain of The Guardian
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idioma/language; ENG
summary; Where Ink Sans finds himself, yet again, wandering the eternal void that once stripped him of his sanity,
Or,
A personal, super-duper secret letter addressed to you, from your old friend!
word count; 1.6k
a/n; first tumblr fanfic post! I really didn’t expect this one to be the first, this was something I gave a shot a couple of months ago that I decided to pick back up and finally finish. I also apologize for any grammatical or spelling mistakes. Please take note of the fact that this really is experimental and I wanted to mess around by trying out a soliloquy-ish style of writing, so that means there’s not real “dialogue” or any other characters, just paint skeleton man talking to you. I hope you enjoy!! (^ν^)
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One, two...three, four..five, six…seven, eight…
…three hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine…
Four hundred thousand!
…Wait, what am I counting again?
─────────────────────────
Many humans and monsters, once they go around the beautiful, breathtaking surface, believe the ocean stretches far away, almost looking infinite. An infinite marine blanket that your eyes just can't dimension, just because of how big it is! Infinity is a huge number, isn't it?! It never ends, going further, and further, and further!
But most don't know what infinity truly means. It's the term you used to describe how many different versions of the same story exist, didn't you? And, in a way, you'd be right. There's thousands, millions of variations of myself and others. Some more complex, some more simple. Some die, some live. Some laugh, some cry. Some heal, some torture. And every single variation…has been loved by you. Or…a variation of you. Isn't it strange? You believe multiple versions of the same character is entertaining to see…but aren't you also a variation of what you call a “creator”?
I walk, and walk, and walk…oh! That's right! I was counting my steps! Perhaps the infinity of this place gets to me. Like the infinity of the far, far ocean. Born as nothing, only to then perish in tears…In this exact same place. That's what you used to like about me, didn't you? Even if it broke your heart to watch me ripping myself apart! Yes! I know you like the back of my skeletal hand all together! You enjoyed it, loved it, cherished it like those animated series about us you watched with such admiration after being done creating for the day! Of course, it makes complete sense! Rejoice, for a soul succumbed into the deepest despair and embraced death like an old friend! How tragic! How sad! How...entertaining! Isn't that what we live for?
Our precious entertainment?
But that being said…you can't do what I've done, can you? Ah, well, maybe that's not the exact question I wanted to ask. I mean, you can't get rid of yourself without any consequence, can you? Hmm! Isn’t it strange to you? Look at me, all fine, sane, safe and sound; while if you were to do it, you'd be gone forever! That sweet, heavenly relief of freeing yourself from what binds you, what troubles you, what worries you…you can't experience that bliss without decaying like a rose in winter, never to return. Ah! How…Shakespearean, I think you call it!
Even though I'm technically not supposed to, occasionally I get small glimpses of what I used to be before I was The Guardian. Again, maybe it’s this infinite place where I stand. Small peeks through a window I thought I had shattered, alongside my soul. Another skeleton straight from the original code, no name…no identity.
Is our identity what really makes us ourselves? Maybe you and I, my friend, have a lot more in common than what you'd think. Or maybe, a lot more in common than you'd want to admit. Our sense of identity. That…no matter how hard you try…you’ll never be completely original. Never…create something original…that originality is dead, and has been for a long, long time.
But regardless, we have something else in common you might find a bit less taboo than talking about just erasing ourselves and our lack of self-worth! Can you guess?
Yup! It 's art! Have you heard that quote that goes…
“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable”?
I think it's a bunch of funking bullshoes! Art is and does whatever the heck you want it to be or do, whether that's taking yet another copy of that lazy skeleton and torturing him to your satisfaction, treating him like he's your lover and worshipping him until you get bored, or debauching him, being nothing but a twisted entertainment for your limitless, perverted mind!
Ah…ahem. Sorry for my disturbing language earlier…I keep myself at bay as a certain parasite would have if he was here. Isn't it funny! He’s a skeleton just like me, but he doesn’t even come from the same source code like the rest of us! He really was a…Fresh view on the root character, wasn't he? Huh? Get it?! Regardless…art is a funny thing. You can do anything and call it art, as long as your soul is poured into it. SOULs…“the culmination of our beings.” That flower might have been right after all. But it’s ironic, isn’t it? Me, talking about SOULs? Ahaha! I know, right?!
What bigger sin is there than to be an artist with no soul inside?
Maybe one day I will know.
But you, oh, you, you had a beautiful soul! Countless hours, every day, every year…you dedicated yourself to what makes me…me! Don’t you remember?! You’d work so hard on what you wanted to create! New stories, new characters, new places…heck, even games! Such good times, right?
Ah…all those things you drew…I can't remember more delightful creations. All of your colors were what made me complete. You'd spend weeks and weeks on your works…like a true artist! Even if what you created took...strange turns sometimes. Oh no, no, no, don't you think I don't remember! You know all of the tattoos I have on my bones more than I do, don't you? Yes. Of course you do! How could you ever forget such a thing? That really was your precious entertainment.
Every one of them…the destroyers, the protectors, even the ones who never really did anything and wandered around. All of them felt like a distant…Dream, that sometimes it transformed into a…Nightmare! Hahaha! I'm really clever with these! Those two really are two different sides of the coin. And they hustle and fight like cats and dogs–and—dare I say, brothers! If I were to put myself in your shoes...I'd probably find it hilarious!
Regardless, I always wondered what would’ve been of them if their roles were switched, or if one of them never got corrupted, or…oh, wait. There’s alternate versions of those. Oops! Just make sure a certain…Error doesn’t find any of them, otherwise he’ll say that it’s time to “take the out the trash again”. What a jerk! I’ll never understand why some people think we get along. Sure, we don’t particularly hate each other’s guts to the point we can’t stand each other's existence, but it’s not like we’re the best of friends. Oh, wait. There’s also alternate versions of us who do get along, and quite well. How bizarre!
But every single creation, placed in their own world…from both of our perspectives, it’s almost amusing. Seeing them struggle, seeing them fight, seeing them…continue on living even after their creator is gone. Humans and monsters with their own lives, orphaned by their gods never to return. A certain version of me with star eyes and a blue scarf was abandoned just like that, but thankfully he didn’t just vaporize off the face of the multiverse. What a relief! He’s such a nice guy!
And eventually, you…will meet that same fate that’s inevitable to avoid. Your body decaying in the wind, recalling places you used to know…all the while you disappear from them. Whether it’s in the blink of an eye or in the comfort of a bed while you slowly forget, you stop existing. But those creations, everything you ever made, will forever stay still like a breathtaking painting in a museum. Framed, protected…yet no one else to see its brushstrokes.
No one to see, no one to hear, no one to…make.
…I have always taken it for granted, haven’t I? The vials, the emotions, my existence…they all depend on you. Broomie and I, my countless adventures, my stories…they all just exist because of you. Everything I know, everything I am, in the hands of…others. And this is a crazy idea, but, what if these others, what if this you…never came back?
Ha. Ha ha. That’s…an interesting concept, huh? Sure, you have taken off your… sweet time off of this place, but…you always return, right? You’d never actually permanently leave, I mean…these are your creations! I’m…I’m your creation too! You’d never forget about your creation, would you? Even though many believe so, you never really… gave me the ability to create worlds by myself! So…so if you left…
No, that…that won’t happen. Obviously it won’t. That…can’t happen. It’s impossible! I know it is! And, and…to make sure it doesn’t happen; you know…everyone needs a safety net to land on…I can be better! I can always be better, and you know that! Right? Right?! I’ll cherish and care for every single thing that comes from your fingertips for the rest of your life as if my own depended on it! I’ll…oh! I know! I’ll be a better muse! I’ll inspire you better! I promise you I will, just…!
…give me one more chance?
…Huh. Wait…hah! Haha! What am I even talking about? I’m such a worrywart…you always come back! I’m so silly…you’ll come back soon, and stronger! As a better artist, a better soul! You’ve left and come back more than once, what’s to say you won’t this time? Once is by chance…twice is a coincidence…and three times is a pattern! Oh gee, I’ve never been good with puzzles…but I’ll figure it out! Before you know it, I’ll be the one who knows first when you’ll return! But if, just what if, you decide to…
No…I am right. I mean, I always am! A muse is always right! I could obviously never be wrong! When have I ever been wrong about something like this? And If I was, wouldn't my whole existence be a mere charade?
…Oh. Perhaps it really is.
Don’t Forget—I’m waiting for you, always! I hope you won’t be long this time!
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