R3V3N4NT - 000

rev·e·nant   /ˈrevəˌnäN,-nənt/   ( noun )   1. a person who has returned, especially supposedly from the dead.

[r3v3n4nt-000]

- cIara oswaId, est. august 2011, written, loved, and characterized by tee - just a they/them writing a multimedia-based they/she/he - read my rules/disclaimer before you follow -- this is non-negotiable - i track r3v3n4nt bc tumblr hates dashes, used to be consequntial and several more that i can’t remember bc i’ve been writing clara since elementary school

[charlesoberonn]

Men want her. Women want to be her. Children befriend her but their parents fear her. Doctors hate her and police officers’ heads explode in her presence.

Scientific consensus on her nature and origins has not been reached.

Authorities warn civilians to stay away from her and report any sightings immediately.

[redbullseb]

no, YOU’RE looking at him respectfully. i’m objectifying him to filth we’re built different

[catboyaoi]

wow this cannot be good for me *keeps doing it*

[matersighs]

i want to be this company’s hands. ( from suspiria (2018), written by k. )

[errorware]

<a href = @r3v3n4nt-000​​​ > we can’t keep rescuing each other. it’s ridiculous. </a>

it is, at this point, getting a little ridiculous. then again, when you find a planet full of rich space assholes who keep spending money on a “most dangerous game” kind of scenario, maybe you are just going to keep rescuing each other until it gets kind of ridiculous. the traps and plots and schemes pitted against them aren’t even that complex. they’re difficult to escape without the assistance of another person, probably because the assumption of the rich is that every single person without wealth will be just as overbearingly self-serving as they are, and that their only interest is to push back against those below them.

which isn’t true. sometimes people cooperate. not all the time, and not even often, but sam and clara aren’t like most people. that’s why he almost laughs at the sentence, a short sharp sound that doesn’t quite manage to transform all the way into a real laugh. they’ve managed to make a kind of tripwire now out of some things they cobbled together in a room with only one door. all they need to do is wait until it gets dark, which should only take a few hours, and then they can cross open space and get to the building that all of this is based out of.

for now, they just have to wait, shoulder to shoulder. clara’s head is resting on his shoulder, eyes shut. they could almost fall asleep here like this if it wasn’t for how things are, the threat that might occur at any second. instead, they just get to wait like this. exhaustion is starting to set in, but there’s enough adrenaline humming underneath his skin that he knows he isn’t going to sleep. instead, he shifts them a little so that clara can lean against him a little more easily.  

❝ so i think we’re even so far, ❞ sam says, a little hoarse. fire earlier. he can still taste smoke in his mouth. can still feel it rasping in his lungs, making his voice sound even worse. but he doesn’t really care much. they’ve been in worse situations. he’s been shot before, or otherwise hurt, and he sounded worse then. now it’s just an annoyance, one that makes him almost rub at his throat in reflex, as if trying to rub the sound away. ❝ by my count, anyway. hopefully we can keep it that way. no more rescuing. just fixing the problem. ❞ a little smile, eyes shut, as his head rests against the wall. this whole thing has become bigger than intended, but it always does.

at least it’s just them. started out with elliot, but around the time people started getting gunned down by the rich, guns that hum and sizzle and spark, elliot stepped aside. mr. robot first, to get them out of danger. and now him, in and out of danger, rescuer and rescued all at once. he and clara are even like that, on the same playing field. they just fit together, and they can take problems apart together even faster.

sam finally lets his head move over, enough where he can just rest his head against hers. if he wasn’t sore, if his voice wasn’t crackling in his throat, he could almost fall asleep like this. the world outside is quiet for now, the chaos of the day slipping into a pensive and terrible silence. in some ways that bodes poorly. but he can enjoy it while they have the time. ❝ i’m glad it’s you and me. ❞ it sounds kind of fucking quaint, but he means it. ❝ doing all this, i mean. we know i wouldn’t do this with anyone else, but… more than that. you know what i mean. ❞

clumsy with his words again. he’s never been good with them — but clara knew that, and she’s here anyway. that’s all he can ask for.

[r3v3n4nt-000]

if someone were to ask her: _who is your favorite? who do you love the most?_ she would not have one, singular answer. of course she wouldn’t, they’re a unit, a system—the system, even—and they (singular, but not sole) are hers just as much as she is theirs. if someone were to ask that impossible question of favorites, she would look then in the eye and tell that person that they have no right to ask, or that it is all equal in different ways, depending on her mood. if someone where to ask her who in the system was her favorite, she would not hesitate in defending them all. however, if someone asked this, if this if became a certainty, she knows that there would be the undercurrent of a lie in that answer.

it’s not that she doesn’t love each of them, that she doesn’t cherish mr. robot’s steady presence in their kitchen during the dead of night, elliot’s sweet smile when he indulges her in a swaying sort of dance in their living room, the kid’s wonder and excitement around her, the prosecutor’s—well. she’ll skip that one. anyways—it’s not as if she wouldn’t do anything for any and all of them, it’s not.

but then there’s sam.

steady and sweet to her and so bloody smart and just—she _loves_ elliot. the entire system, she loves them. but she thinks they all know that she and sam have a special bond. it’d be obvious to a blind man—there’s a current between them, a shared line of thought, a string of red, a set of ghosts and lights through time. always circling. always together. always connected, some way, some how.

she loves the entire system, with almost all of her being and oftentimes more than it. and she leans into sam and knows—she _knows_ they’ve done this before in a million lives and a million universes that they can’t quite touch. he, sam sepiol, one branch of the beautiful being and amazing husband known as elliot alderson, is her soulmate. she knows he feels the same.

so, when she leans against him and he shifts to move closer against her and gently informs her of his comfort being there with her, she smiles. it is gentle and it is warm and it is full of love for her sam, her confidante, her rib and skull and throat. she ignores the hole in her shoulder, the one she hasn’t yet told him about; and, in a similarly scratchy voice, she returns his sentiment.

“i do.” a beat, full of love. “feelin’s mutual, by the way.”

[errorware]

how do i take off a mask when it stops being a mask? when it’s as much a part of me as i am?

[r3v3n4nt-000]

@errorware​

FOR A MOMENT, HE CHECKS HIS WATCH. they never wore one before they started traveling with clara, but now they do, and it’s something he can reset to fit all of the weird fucked up time periods that they end up in. sometimes a watch isn’t enough to keep track of whatever bullshit is going on, but it’s always a decent start. if he set everything up right, then they’ve got an hour or two before the whole deal really gets going. there’s some mild winds kicking up now, a prelude to the main event. clara oswald wants to see wonders. it’s not like they were ever capable of stopping her, even if they’re not all that good at absorbing wonders themselves.

a cynical streak a mile wide and a few miles deep, right in the center of their brain. a chasm where all of the good will went and with no hope of excavation. he’s not going to voice that particularly dramatic thought, but it’s certainly accurate enough. he isn’t here to ruin it for her, though.

❝ middle ground, then. not great, not the worst one in the world. ❞ he could ask what her worst option is, but in the end, he wouldn’t want to ruin this whole thing with those kinds of memories. she can take the conversation there if she wants, but he isn’t going to lead them down that path himself. maybe that’s just the residual impulses of the way things used to be between him and sam. careful about what you bring up, because you don’t know what the bastard will choose to remember at any second.

he can hold back memory all he wants, but eventually things start to break through. he is, however, good at postponing that end. after a moment he moves over to sit down next to her. the wind bites. the system as a whole never seems to know what to do with layers. used to the past, maybe, where they didn’t care much about what they were feeling. or it was easier to just distance themselves from whatever they were feeling.

❝ oregon trail, huh? ❞ no surprise in his voice. there’s probably fewer times and places clara hasn’t been by now, because where she is is where the doctor’s been. same thing. ❝ jesus. plenty of ways to die out there. ❞ a pause. ❝ guess i’d take freezing over some of the other ones. sorry to whichever you decided to take that fucking trip. ❞

he settles down next to her, sighing a little. the cold makes a few places ache – the ankle they fucked up during the jump over that railing, mostly, but it’s a manageable pain. ❝ don’t know if i’d call it funny. dramatic irony, sure, like any good story. comedic, though? that’s more subjective. ❞

she lets out a soft laugh, a perpendicular motion to his statement. she agrees, she thinks, and she’s going to tell him as much, but it’s still odd, all of this. sitting next to her boyfriend who’s not her boyfriend while telling ghost stories about a person who died and is still dying. clara (not her, the other one) hangs around the corner of her vision. she’s not going to look over there quite yet.

‘isn’t irony a form of comedy? i’m sure i taught at least one of my classes that, i’m sure it’s a square-rectangle thing, yeah?’ arguing first, of course. she has to. she smiles despite it. ‘i think you’re right, though. it isn’t really funny, not ha-ha, at least. moments are, but the entire thing? i think you’ve got me there.’

more beads drip down her neck and she considers taking off the top layer, a voice (her voice and not her voice -- schrodinger’s voice [well, not his either, but--alright, we’re getting too deep into this, we’ve gotta get out of the sub-brackets or he’s gonna know we’re falling down this rabbit hole--]--) warns her that hypothermia is easier to catch if she starts sweating. is hypothermia a thing you can catch? c’mon, stop that, those are sub-bracket thoughts and he’s waiting on ▗▙▚▛▜▝  to continue.

clara finally takes a little shaky breath. the smile is back. 

‘she’d appreciate it if she wasn’t so bitter. can’t really blame her, though,’ a beat. a thought of leaving it at that, and then, ‘like i said, she survived the doctor and the great intelligence, simeon, whatever--one of the only ones to ever do that. she still wanted adventure, though, didn’t get anything close with the doctor, just happened to give him some good advice and he took it and lived and so did i, and then he showed up. benjamin. i... she loved him, i think. she grew to love him, i think. we’re unclear on that. we were certainly fond of him, he was handsome and he was a kind fool and i was crushed when he was killed but i can’t be sure that it wasn’t because i was--well, i’m gettin’ ahead of myself, i think.

‘benjamin and i married so we’d be granted more land and would have a partner to work it. he was beautiful and he was stupid and i’m still sure that the only reason he was travelin’ that way was ‘cause those two things got him in trouble,’ she quiets for a few moments, remembering him. remembering what happened. her voice shifts some more. she hardens.

‘we got caught between the devil and the sea -- that’s how i described it when i died. the devil and the sea, and we made the choice to swim with a guide. one eustace wick. you see, we’d left too late, and winter was setting in while we were crossing the rockies, and eustace offered to guide us, and benjamin accepted. it was fine, at first, i didn’t trust him but i didn’t have any reason to. his teeth were...’ another pause, but a far shorter one. ‘it started to get colder and colder. snow began to fall. eustace got happier and happier, benjamin and i drew into ourselves. and then we woke up one morning to a smashed wheel and a euphoric, horrible man sayin’ he’d found us a cave to wait it out--to wait out the entire winter. i don’t think benjamin ever realized what eustace was. i’m not givin him a ‘who’ here.’

she doesn’t sound like herself in this moment. well, she does now, but it’s slipping, in and out and in and out like fabric in a loom. she doesn’t notice it. this break lingers in the air between them. he can ask what happened. he can tell her he gets it. clara pulls elliot’s hoodie tighter around her, and clara pulls her cape tighter in the same motions.

[r3v3n4nt-000]

@errorware​

A QUESTION THAT BEGETS ANOTHER OBVIOUS QUESTION: ARE YOU ASKING THIS BECAUSE OF HIM?

sometimes, despite himself, and despite every reassurance from clara that it isn’t the case, elliot can see the absence. he can see the shape of it. he imagines it not like his shadow but like something next to him. here is where the person he was before should be. and here he is, adjacent, not quite the same, overlapping but not filling the same space in the same way. he knows that there are differences. he knows it, because he knows himself, and he knows what happened. he, as elliot alderson, as the person who he is now, would not have done even half of the shit that was done during his missing year.

krista would say that he should be honest, that he shouldn’t go searching for the answer that his alter would give. that there’s no point in it. but the part of elliot that is always, always expecting to be left, that maybe sounds a little like mr. robot and mostly like the inside of his own head, is ready to look for it. so in the silence he does look for it. he tries to conjure up what sam might’ve said. he was blunt, right? yes. he was either blunt or he lied all the time. but he didn’t know what to say when people asked. he lied to the people he cared about, and sometimes he would be too honest with strangers, like it was easier to tell them and know you might never see them again.

but this is something else. clara is looking at him expectantly, the apartment quiet minus all the little noises that constantly inhabit everything. a window rattling under wind, the low hum of electronics that you don’t notice until it’s gone, the clicking whine of the radiator. all that silence and nothing to do with the noise.

❝ i don’t know why it’s so hard for me to talk about something like this, ❞ he says after another moment of pensive and strange silence. clara is looking at him with so much gentleness, and somehow that aches too. it’s like he doesn’t deserve it. it’s like he’s getting some reward for something that he doesn’t earn. sometimes it was easier to talk about things clinically in groups when he was in the facility. no one had quite the same problems, but there were similar themes running through it all. similar experiences. a shared sense of trauma, which isn’t the same thing as true and genuine connection. but it can feel fucking close. ❝ i just… i’m not sam. i can’t give you the same answers as him. maybe you mean different things to us, and i… ❞

is he feeling like himself? no. he’s feeling like a ghost in his body. yes, he’s been here for longer, but all it took was one year to displace everything about his life. it is so delicate, in the end. his life, he means. everything about it can fall apart if he doesn’t hold it together as carefully as possible.

❝ i don’t want to disappoint you, ❞ he says. ❝ because – fuck, clara, you mean a lot to me. i don’t want to give an answer that’s not good enough. but i’m not good at this. at talking to people, at saying what i think of them. ❞ his fingers, twisting in his lap, pulling at each other for a few long moments. ❝ … you stayed. i didn’t expect you to. i actually thought you might leave, when i woke up in the hospital. it would’ve made sense. you mainly knew him. not me. we’ve never met before, but i look like him and i’m sure i sound like him. maybe exactly like him, sometimes, and i thought that would scare you off. or hurt you in some way. ❞

his hands stop, still clenched into fists in his lap. it’s about keeping himself as secure as possible, about sensation that keeps him here in this moment more than anything else.

❝ … you’re one of the only people i have left. and i can’t imagine doing this with you or darlene. everything afterwards… if you weren’t around, i don’t know what i would’ve done. how i would’ve kept everything in order. it might’ve been easier to just go away again. no matter who took over instead. i get why sam thought of you the way he did, you know. because most people would’ve just disappeared or given up. even darlene’s done that to me before. so either you’re just that stubborn or you…. really care about me that much. and i don’t know how to handle that, really. ❞

he doesn’t know how to handle a lot of things. but he’s just going to try his best.

he reaches for clara’s hand finally, trying to communicate what he can’t say.

it’s weird sometimes. really weird, actually, quite weird and off and wrong--no, not wrong, just... really unfamiliar. she’ll look over at him, this bloke she’s known for ages, since before she died, since after, and she can’t recognize him whatsoever. it’s not bad, really, but it is weird. like the doctor, when his face changed, but without that change. she’s not sure how to handle it always. she loved sam. loves him, even, although she doesn’t think she can admit that part to herself yet. he was the only tether she had left here, especially after christel died and especially after she died -- codependency, maybe, but a necessary kind. she never would’ve met elliot, this one, if it wasn’t. still, it hurts sometimes, and that hurt has nowhere to go. it’s amusing in a sick way, a lich with a broken heart, she’s sure there’s some sort of joke that could be made there.

don’t get her wrong, she loves elliot too, she really does, but... it’s hard. not the loving, the lovin’s like breathing--it’s the adjusting. knowing that this body knows her better than she knows herself but that the mind inhabiting it doesn’t anymore. except maybe it does, just a bit.

she watches him as he goes on, talks about her choice to stay and sam’s to go and how they’re both healin from this together. it’s sweet, in a way, how he sees her. none of the broken mirrors or stitches in the bathtub, just a decent person who’s stickin’ around for him. it makes her smile, even with the ache in her too-still chest. his hand slides into hers. she squeezes back.

‘i think it’s a bit of both, really. i do care about you and i’ve been told that i am quite stubborn, so both works here,’ a joke of sorts. she smiles, is glad he’s so comfortable around her. she doesn’t know what to do without sam, she doesn’t. can he see how lost she is? she hopes she’s hiding it well enough. ‘sorry for a question like that out of the blue--prolly weren’t expectin it, were you?’

i love you. i love you, i do, but i don’t know you like i knew him. i think there are overlaps, but i’m not sure and i’m losin’ control and i hate that. why did he have to leave? why couldn’t we keep you both? i’m so normal now and i know it can’t last--you’re going to see me how i am one of these days and i won’t be able to stop that. how long until you tell me to stop coming back? how long until you realize you don’t hate yourself enough to keep holding on? 

[r3v3n4nt-000]

just horror writing vibes

[r3v3n4nt-000]

anyways if u ever wanted to read abt clara as a ghoul devouring someone while @errorware​’s elliot watched,

[r3v3n4nt-000]

just horror writing vibes

[r3v3n4nt-000]

why do you hurt?

you were meant to. it was built into you. designed for you. there is pain here because it was meant for you, and how fucking dare they? your suffering is not their right. you hurt because they gave you ways to suffer and carved it into you when you could not breathe, because the intention always was that they could weaponize your pain against you. it is Yours. You are Yours. how fucking dare they? they cannot make you theirs; do not let them try.

tagged by @martyerd  tagging @errorware

[monstrousthingsrp]

Monstrous Headcanons:

Because we can’t all just put brains in jars to see how they tick.

♦ - HOARD - something that is precious to them ✿ - DECAY - an old memory, from childhood perhaps ⚔ - DUEL - a meeting or relationship that was important to them ♥ - STAKED - a jarring event, something that changed their life/outlook ∇ - TOMBSTONE - who they are versus who they appear to be ☼ - DAYSTAR - a secret they don’t want coming to light ☂ - THUNDERSTORM - a difficult or miserable time in their life ⚖ - SCALES - how well they balance their good and bad impulses ϟ - LIGHTNING - something they thought they’d left in the past, returned ☢ - BIOHAZARD - the most dangerous thing about them to others ♬ - DIRGE - a habit, hobby, or obsession they can’t seem to shake ■ - LAIR - where they live, work, or spend most of their time ☠ - DEATH - the closest it’s come to touching their life

Ask on-anon or off!

[0008753]

A  PEAK  AT  WHAT’S  INSIDE  THEIR          .    .    .

[  *  ]      writing prompt      )         :             send a number  1 - 30  to take a closer look inside this characters life.        /        below you will find a series of various prompts offering a look inside a characters every day life.        these are meant to invoke character development     &     can also be altered as seen fit to better suit the character in question.         bonus if you explain why it’s there!

01.     pockets. 02.     bag   /   purse. 03.     car trunk. 04.     car glovebox. 05.     closet. 06.     bedside table drawer. 07.     medicine cabinet. 08.     wallet. 09.     “junk” drawer. 10.     pantry. 11.     phone home screen. 12.     frequently used emojis. 13.     to do list. 14.     computer home screen. 15.     bookcase. 16.     cd collection. 17.     calendar for this month. 18.     “secret” hiding spot. 19.     five most recent in contact list.  20.     refrigerator.  21.     home safe.  22.     amazon shopping cart.  23.     bank account.  24.     first aid kit.  25.     five most recent in google search history.  26.     most used playlist.  27.     least used playlist.  28.     five most recent sent text messages  29.     five most recent received text messages  30.     netflix watch history. 

[0008753]

A  PEAK  AT  WHAT’S  INSIDE  THEIR          .    .    .

[  *  ]      writing prompt      )         :             send a number  1 - 30  to take a closer look inside this characters life.        /        below you will find a series of various prompts offering a look inside a characters every day life.        these are meant to invoke character development     &     can also be altered as seen fit to better suit the character in question.         bonus if you explain why it’s there!

01.     pockets. 02.     bag   /   purse. 03.     car trunk. 04.     car glovebox. 05.     closet. 06.     bedside table drawer. 07.     medicine cabinet. 08.     wallet. 09.     “junk” drawer. 10.     pantry. 11.     phone home screen. 12.     frequently used emojis. 13.     to do list. 14.     computer home screen. 15.     bookcase. 16.     cd collection. 17.     calendar for this month. 18.     “secret” hiding spot. 19.     five most recent in contact list.  20.     refrigerator.  21.     home safe.  22.     amazon shopping cart.  23.     bank account.  24.     first aid kit.  25.     five most recent in google search history.  26.     most used playlist.  27.     least used playlist.  28.     five most recent sent text messages  29.     five most recent received text messages  30.     netflix watch history. 

[sphinxmemesmusings]

SEND ME A NUMBER AND HELP ME DEVELOP MY CHARACTER!

01:  A memory from your character’s childhood

02:  A memory from your character’s teenage years

03:  A memory from your character’s career

04:  A memory that your character cherishes

05:  A memory that your character wishes to erase  

06:  Something that makes your character angry

07:  Something that makes your character happy

08:  Something that makes your character laugh

09:  Something that frightens your character

10:  Something that turns your character on

11:  Describe your character’s childhood friend

12:  Describe your character’s parents

13:  Describe your character’s former lover

14:  Describe your character’s present best friend

15:  Describe your character’s worst enemy

16:  What your character does on a day of

17:  What kind of books your character reads

18:  What kind of music your character likes

19:  What your character does when they wake up

20:  What your character is like at social events

[kirk]

GOLD DIGGER:

some options (not all!!!) are: full-screen header image (can be moved up&down, can be fixed or relative), dotted&lined post shadows (can be hidden), description w/ link or 4 links, adjustable avatar image (can be hidden), lots&lots of usual options + more!