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@throughscarleteyes
It's more important to master the cards you're holding than to complain about the ones your opponent was dealt.
ind. sel. priv. roleplay blog for Grimsley from Pokemon BW/2/SuMo. Read the carrd before interacting.
Written by Itsy
He's starting to think again, he'd really rather not. There's a moment that thoughts race through his mind faster than he can fully comprehend them, until things become foggy again. How he hates these times. He wants to be okay. That's too much to ask for, and pretending is becoming so exhausting. He has no choice but to try.
His hands are shaking, he tries to hide it while he works through Brumm's fur, deciding to keep his eyes on that instead of the patterns on the walls that seem to move when he looks at them. That's not something new. He still doesn't like it. He breathes a quiet sigh to calm himself and glances at the beetle with a tired smile.
"Of course I am. It's not proving to be too stubborn, thankfully. Are you still doing alright?"
Of course there's a panic in his chest, and he refuses to let that rise to the surface. It happens so easily nowadays. It's so easy for him to get overwhelmed. He just tries to ignore it.
There was a growing feeling of concern in Brumm as if he could sense that something was wrong with Grimm. Well... Something immediately wrong with him. It didn't feel quite like if the moth was fading faster right then but with how the moth pauses in the conversation that led to this feeling. Not to mention how he can very subtly feel the shakiness of the other's hands though it was light enough that he almost dismissed it at first.
"I'm doing fine but, mrmm, could we take a small break? Perhaps I could even play a song or two for you?"
It was a feeble excuse for the musician to try and change things up for a few minutes. He hoped that because he was normally not one for a lot of prolonged contact it would be believable. He wanted to turn around and see Grimm's state, and for the moth to potentially take a small breather himself. He was after all in a bad state of mind right then and Brumm wanted nothing more than to help his love calm down.
Grimm would like to think that he keeps a good mask. To most, he does. To his loved ones, he does not. Especially not now. He's just so tired, much as he tries not to seem it. He's so tired and everything hurts. His arms hurt from such simple actions, his legs hurt from merely kneeling. Existing...hurt. He couldn't bring himself to voice just how bad it was though. He never did. Pausing from what Brumm says, he feels his heart shudder.
You've upset him now. You're just making things worse.
He's not, he knows he's not, but it's difficult to believe that right now. He simply forces a smile, and a nod, lowering his hands slowly and attempting to will them to stop shaking. He was fine. He had to act like it.
"Of course, love. I-I wouldn't say no to that."
He mentally curses himself for stuttering.
"Patient as she can be when trying to deal with me."
He says it with a soft laugh. He can be very frustrating at times, he knows that. Many times it was intentional. He did have a thing for getting himself into trouble, he couldn't help it. Even when he was almost being swallowed whole by a very annoyed Pale Wyrm.
What Brumm says next has him falter in his brushing, because Brumm...should not be able to remember that. Was his fire really becoming that weak? That he could not do something as simple as protect his Troupe? He had to wonder, and hope otherwise, if the others were remembering as well. The only one that should know about their previous lives is himself.
Grimm calms his beating heart, he'd rather not panic about it outwardly, and he only gives the beetle a smile, running his hand through his fur as he resumed brushing it gently.
"It's alright, love. Try not to think about it too much. You'll give yourself a headache."
He says it lightly, but really, he couldn't bare to allow Brumm to remember. Not all of that.
Brumm can't help but chuckle at that statement about how patient the former goddess of dreams could be. It was true after all, Grimm did have his ways of pushing patience. However, even when one runs out of patience one can't help but still love him.
Then Grimm falters while brushing his fur and he can't help but feel bad. It wasn't too obvious that the moth was a bit panicked over the idea of him being able to even get whisps of a memory. Was... Was what he'd had before joining the troupe been that bad? He hoped not but that darker feeling that he could just barely sense made him think it was in fact terrible.
For now though he tries to not focus on that, abiding by Grimm's advice with a light nod. "Yeah... Mrmm, wouldn't want that right now..." He smiles to the other over his shoulder, looking more settled than before.
"Mrmm, it feels like you're doing a good job Grimm... It doesn't feel as tense from the knots as before."
He's starting to think again, he'd really rather not. There's a moment that thoughts race through his mind faster than he can fully comprehend them, until things become foggy again. How he hates these times. He wants to be okay. That's too much to ask for, and pretending is becoming so exhausting. He has no choice but to try.
His hands are shaking, he tries to hide it while he works through Brumm's fur, deciding to keep his eyes on that instead of the patterns on the walls that seem to move when he looks at them. That's not something new. He still doesn't like it. He breathes a quiet sigh to calm himself and glances at the beetle with a tired smile.
"Of course I am. It's not proving to be too stubborn, thankfully. Are you still doing alright?"
Of course there's a panic in his chest, and he refuses to let that rise to the surface. It happens so easily nowadays. It's so easy for him to get overwhelmed. He just tries to ignore it.
It does calm him, helps him forget, if only briefly. Listening to Brumm's humming might be his favourite thing to hear, he thinks. It made him feel okay, even when his body screamed that he wasn't. He was anything but okay. He still pretends despite it. He doesn't think about it, his head was too muffled to.
"Of course it was. You know I like to look my best."
The moth laughs softly. Despite everything, he did always like to appear as decent as possible. Perhaps obsessively so, on occasion. Anything less than perfect was unacceptable. It bothered him more than it should, but he's always best at being a hypocrite.
That aside, the thought of his sister did bring up both fond and foul memories. How conflicted his feelings were towards her, even knowing what she did to him. By all means, he should hate her, shouldn't he? But she wasn't her when it happened. And still, he feels as though it was his fault. He feels that sharp pain in his heart again, he tries to ignore it, focus on his task of gently brushing through the patch of tangles he was working on.
"...I think sister would've loved you. She was a very kind God, if a little too protective. Thinking back though, maybe that was for a good reason... I did almost get eaten by a Wyrm a few times."
It's something he knows to be true for all of Grimm's incarnations. The god within all those vessels had always loved music. It would be one of the few constants in this tragedy of survival for him. He would always adore and love music in almost any form. While not fond of his own voice, Brumm knew that Grimm loved to hear him humming. Perhaps because it was softer than his accordion? He couldn't be certain but the way the moth relaxed so was always a boost to his low self esteem. "Heh, I know you do, mrmm, dearest... It always shows."
The beetle can almost feel exactly how the conversation turning to the topic of his sister pained him. How could it not given all that happened between the two? Brumm almost backpedals, wanting to turn the subject away from this but he pauses as Grimm keeps brushing his fur. He hadn't faltered in the task so perhaps it was alright. It was confirmed when a moment later he spoke up, "oh? ... Mrmm I'm honored you think so. She must have been a patient god indeed if she kept you safe and alive." He chuckles as he says all that though he stops as memories of his own start to try flitting into his consciousness.
"Mrmm... I think... I think I had a little sister before... Or a brother...? I can't tell..." he brought a hand up to his head and frowned. Where were these hints of memories coming from? He's never been this close to recalling anything of his past before the troupe before so why...? It then came to mind that with Grimm's fire and power so low perhaps it was too weak to suppress them fully anymore. While most of the feelings he could sense from these wisps of memories were pleasant and warm he could sense something darker beneath all that. Shaking his head for now to shake his focus off that, he chuckles quietly. "Sorry, I don't know where that came from. Mrmm, sorry for that."
"Patient as she can be when trying to deal with me."
He says it with a soft laugh. He can be very frustrating at times, he knows that. Many times it was intentional. He did have a thing for getting himself into trouble, he couldn't help it. Even when he was almost being swallowed whole by a very annoyed Pale Wyrm.
What Brumm says next has him falter in his brushing, because Brumm...should not be able to remember that. Was his fire really becoming that weak? That he could not do something as simple as protect his Troupe? He had to wonder, and hope otherwise, if the others were remembering as well. The only one that should know about their previous lives is himself.
Grimm calms his beating heart, he'd rather not panic about it outwardly, and he only gives the beetle a smile, running his hand through his fur as he resumed brushing it gently.
"It's alright, love. Try not to think about it too much. You'll give yourself a headache."
He says it lightly, but really, he couldn't bare to allow Brumm to remember. Not all of that.
Never have I ever just gone up to Brumm just to bury my face into his fluff.
He pouted, but yes, he takes another drink. Things are getting a bit hazy. More than normal.
"As if I could resist. He's so cute and soft."
Never have I ever gotten it on with the king of Hallownest.
He huffs, taking a swig from the bottle before lowering it a bit too harshly onto the table with a chuckle.
"Happily so."
Never have I ever missed my sister.
"...How low will you go to get a reaction out of me."
He decides that the shot glasses are not enough. He takes a drink from the bottle itself instead. Look what you've done.
Never have I ever slipped up during one of the performances, not for the ritual just a normal one.
"It's not like I'm perfect. Not even with performing. As embarrassing as it is..."
There goes another shot. Shamefully so.
Never have I ever imagined 'worshiping' the Hollow Knight, I mean Syltyr.
"That is one religion I would like to be apart of."
He can't deny that. You are enabling him and he does not care, because he's throwing back a shot.
Send “never have I ever” plus an action.
If my muse has done it, they’ll take a shot.
[I'll put these two here too since I'm also driving myself mad working on them and they're sideblogs.]
@unnaturalharmony @vo1o
[Working on three whole pokemon blogs at once? Couldn't be me.]
Grimm gives a simple hum in response with a gentle smile. His memory comes back to him about how to handle the messy fur, and it steadily becomes a more mindless activity, but one that keeps him more aware of where he is. He can feel where the tangles are, and he brushes them out with care. It would take time, certainly. He didn't mind that.
It's the first time he manages to relax at least somewhat in a while, hearing Brumm hum helps. It always did. From one life to another, music would always capture his heart. Hearing it from his musician only made it better. It almost made him believe everything was okay. He chuckles softly, running his hand over the part of fur he's managed to mostly brush out. It was always so soft.
"I suppose... Not as lovely as sister's, I would say. I can't remember when I lost it. We're...vastly different each cycle, in how we act, as well as how we look. Just look at me and the previous Grimm."
Brumm gives a little nod at the hummed response, not minding that his partner doesn't fully reply. He knew that Grimm was tired and that it was hard for him to focus now. Well, it was harder than normal anyway since this started. He's just glad that the other replied at all. Plus, as he brushes through the tangles gently he can't help but give a little small purr sound to his humming.
The musician doesn't stop humming, merely transitioning between his songs when one ends. He knows just how much music helps to calm the moth god down. It always had and it always... it always would. It hurt to think about how he will never get to perform for Grimm again soon. It hurt so terribly and he tried hard to keep that pain from his voice and expression. He didn't want to ruin this moment that they had now. Thankfully Grimm speaks up and creates a good distraction to focus upon.
"... I would have liked to meet her before... Mrmm, before she fell. As well as I would have liked to see you with fur as well. I bet it was soft and, mm, well kept. Similar to mine on a good day I suppose."
He gave a soft chuckle since he knew he used to be meticulous about keeping his fur well brushed and cared for. Just for Grimm since the moth loved to pet it.
It does calm him, helps him forget, if only briefly. Listening to Brumm's humming might be his favourite thing to hear, he thinks. It made him feel okay, even when his body screamed that he wasn't. He was anything but okay. He still pretends despite it. He doesn't think about it, his head was too muffled to.
"Of course it was. You know I like to look my best."
The moth laughs softly. Despite everything, he did always like to appear as decent as possible. Perhaps obsessively so, on occasion. Anything less than perfect was unacceptable. It bothered him more than it should, but he's always best at being a hypocrite.
That aside, the thought of his sister did bring up both fond and foul memories. How conflicted his feelings were towards her, even knowing what she did to him. By all means, he should hate her, shouldn't he? But she wasn't her when it happened. And still, he feels as though it was his fault. He feels that sharp pain in his heart again, he tries to ignore it, focus on his task of gently brushing through the patch of tangles he was working on.
"...I think sister would've loved you. She was a very kind God, if a little too protective. Thinking back though, maybe that was for a good reason... I did almost get eaten by a Wyrm a few times."
It's more often he tends to detach from himself, when he simply can't or doesn't know how to handle something. It gets difficult to pull himself back to reality, even now when he's not alone. Even when he's able to feel, it was...numb. More than what's normal, when experiencing life through the window of a vessel.
When the beetle makes himself comfortable, Grimm seems pleased he could provide it. He wanted to make sure this was as comforting as possible, at least for once of them.
"Don't worry about that, my Brumm. Just let me know if you start getting uncomfortable at all, alright?"
Patient and considerate as always, he didn't want to overwhelm the poor beetle, should they be at this for quite some time. He wouldn't mind the process, of course. His body might protest otherwise eventually. Taking hold of the brush, he got himself comfortable as he could manage next to Brumm, running his hand over the unkempt fur, before so careful and gently getting to work through it with the brush. It was something to focus on, something physical that he could feel. That helped.
"...I think I remember having fur once."
It was nice to see that Grimm seemed pleased in something right then. Sure it was as simple as Brumm being comfortable but that was something. He couldn't know nor hope to understand just how difficult everything was for his love right then but he knew it was awful. How could it not be based off what he could see in how Grimm dealt with it? It was tragic and painful to see.
"I can do that... thank you again for this Grimm." The beetle gave him a little soft but warm smile. He only twitched at the initial touch, obviously unused to touch as he was. However he soon relaxed once more and didn't move again as the moth began to brush through the fur. It was tangled but thankfully nothing too severe. He merely began to hum softly one of his songs, hoping that Grimm would appreciate the music. Though what's said next does cause him to pause and look back to him a bit.
"Really? Mrmm... I bet it was lovely. I wonder why you don't anymore... Hm..." He knew each of the vessel children were unique and different in their own ways though so maybe they just grew out of having fur?
Grimm gives a simple hum in response with a gentle smile. His memory comes back to him about how to handle the messy fur, and it steadily becomes a more mindless activity, but one that keeps him more aware of where he is. He can feel where the tangles are, and he brushes them out with care. It would take time, certainly. He didn't mind that.
It's the first time he manages to relax at least somewhat in a while, hearing Brumm hum helps. It always did. From one life to another, music would always capture his heart. Hearing it from his musician only made it better. It almost made him believe everything was okay. He chuckles softly, running his hand over the part of fur he's managed to mostly brush out. It was always so soft.
"I suppose... Not as lovely as sister's, I would say. I can't remember when I lost it. We're...vastly different each cycle, in how we act, as well as how we look. Just look at me and the previous Grimm."
He doesn't want to think about it, he does anyway, how there was no time or energy to even do something as simple as clean a room. At the same time, there was no point in the end. When he left, all of this would be going with him. Their grounds only exist because of him. He wonders what will happen to the Nightmare Realm itself when he's gone.
Brumm's words sound faraway as his movements are mindless, setting up cushions in a way that seems comfortable, and he only responds with an affirming hum. Even his thoughts sound muffled and it's difficult to focus on them. For the better, he thinks. He's noticed this happens when he's overwhelmed. He doesn't complain about it. Looking back at the beetle, he can't help but smile as he takes in features he doesn't often get to see. He politely gestures to a comfortable collection of cushions and a favourite of his soft blankets he's arranged.
"Make yourself comfortable, my dear. This should suffice."
Brumm prided himself on few things but being able to read his partner's body language was one of them. Sure, that ability was greatly diminished as of late but he could still tell that things were bothering him or that he simply wasn't able to focus at the moment. It was apparent in how he was solely focused on the pillows and cushions as well as the off handed hum. He naturally wasn't offended, merely saddened that his love felt this way to begin with. Well hopefully this little bonding experience would help them both feel better.
"Thank you Grimm, mrmm, it looks very comfortable." He smiled warmly to the other bug before going over to sit on the bed of cushions and blankets, humming in appreciation. It truly was comfortable and if he wasn't careful he might fall asleep during the brushing. Gods that would be embarrassing. For now though he situated himself to hugging a cushion in his lap so he could lean forward slightly to let Grimm get access to the back of his fur more easily.
"Here you are... love. Mrmm, hopefully it isn't too tangled."
It's more often he tends to detach from himself, when he simply can't or doesn't know how to handle something. It gets difficult to pull himself back to reality, even now when he's not alone. Even when he's able to feel, it was...numb. More than what's normal, when experiencing life through the window of a vessel.
When the beetle makes himself comfortable, Grimm seems pleased he could provide it. He wanted to make sure this was as comforting as possible, at least for once of them.
"Don't worry about that, my Brumm. Just let me know if you start getting uncomfortable at all, alright?"
Patient and considerate as always, he didn't want to overwhelm the poor beetle, should they be at this for quite some time. He wouldn't mind the process, of course. His body might protest otherwise eventually. Taking hold of the brush, he got himself comfortable as he could manage next to Brumm, running his hand over the unkempt fur, before so careful and gently getting to work through it with the brush. It was something to focus on, something physical that he could feel. That helped.
"...I think I remember having fur once."
The offer makes him pause, before he has to force a smile. Would there even be time for that? He doubted either of them would have the energy soon. He tries not to think about it, but he can't help it.
"...Sure."
It's all he can do, to keep himself from slipping. Pretending. It's what every Grimm was best at. He watches Brumm pick up the fallen table, feeling a pang of guilt, until that's distracted by the glimpse of his face. The moth's gaze lingers for only a moment, before he turns his attention away and moves up further onto the bed of soft blankets, making some effort to drag the out of place cushions to more appropriate positions. He tried to ignore the ache in his joints as he did. That didn't matter right now.
"That's fine by me. I have nowhere to be."
He laughs softly. He's really trying.
It was hard to pretend that they would have the opportunity to fix such a simple thing as the tidiness of the room. Nothing would ever come of the suggestion. Hell, all it did was hammer the fact that Grimm would be gone soon further in. It was incredibly painful and took a lot of effort to keep from breaking at that realization.
Instead he focus harder on present, how Grimm was still here and fine... ish. Okay, perhaps a stretch but what mattered is that he was still here for the moment and he would do his damnedest to ensure this night was as relaxing as it could be for them both. They both deserved it after all. Besides he was sure Grimm has never really gotten to feel his fur when it was freshly brushed. Knowing how much he loved the soft texture he knew it would be a treat for the moth.
"Mrmm, if you get tired at any point we can take a break, I know there's a lot to brush." He ended the statement with a soft chuckle since even he sometimes got a bit tired of brushing it all out if it was particularly bad, for example, after the run in with that Nosk. He suppresses the shudder that wants to happen by focusing on removing his hood to help get better access to the fur under it.
"Where would, mrmm, where would it be easiest for me to sit where you can brush comfortably?"
He doesn't want to think about it, he does anyway, how there was no time or energy to even do something as simple as clean a room. At the same time, there was no point in the end. When he left, all of this would be going with him. Their grounds only exist because of him. He wonders what will happen to the Nightmare Realm itself when he's gone.
Brumm's words sound faraway as his movements are mindless, setting up cushions in a way that seems comfortable, and he only responds with an affirming hum. Even his thoughts sound muffled and it's difficult to focus on them. For the better, he thinks. He's noticed this happens when he's overwhelmed. He doesn't complain about it. Looking back at the beetle, he can't help but smile as he takes in features he doesn't often get to see. He politely gestures to a comfortable collection of cushions and a favourite of his soft blankets he's arranged.
"Make yourself comfortable, my dear. This should suffice."
The most Grimm can do is force a smile. They both knew that wasn't going to happen. There was no time. It felt like there was no time for anything. That's why he's given up, stopped even trying to better himself, fallen hard back into self-destructive habits. He knew there was no point, as much as he knew it upset others. He knew that they knew too.
How he wanted to just leave and wither in a ditch where they couldn't find him.
"It's always lovely to me, darling. It's even my favourite colour."
He's trying very hard, to keep pretending. He's acting like it's a normal day, like he and his world were not collapsing ever slowly. He didn't have a choice. Or rather, it was the only choice that would help those around him. He had to be happy, to make them believe he was okay. Even if they both knew he wasn't. They just pretend. Just keep pretending. That's all he had.
Keeping a gentle but firm hold on Brumm's hand, the moth lead him into his chamber, which was, unsurprisingly, rather messy. It normally was, an organized mess as he liked to call it, but there wasn't much organized about it now. The collection of cushions were strewn about the bed of messy blankets, as well as the floor, much less neatly than usual. A side table has been completely tipped over, he hasn't made the effort to pick it back up. There were still empty bottles around. Not as many, perhaps he had the energy to clean them up, or the guilt maybe.
"...Don't mind the mess. I've, uh...not been very good at keeping up with it, I suppose."
He tries to keep a smile, and the shame out of his features, as he brings the beetle over to the bed. It's when he sits down that his pain becomes more obvious to even himself, and he visibly winces at the ache that runs through his legs and back, something he quickly tries to hide.
Brumm knew... He knew deep down that this would have to stop one day. He knew that deluding themselves into thinking that everything was normal would inevitably just hurt further. There was no use running from this in the long run. However the beetle also knew that he just didn't have the willpower right now, if ever, to face this problem head on.
"Heh, then I'm lucky for that... Mrmm, I couldn't exactly change it after all."
Well certainly there were natural dyes he could put in his fur to change the color but he didn't want to do that at all. He loved his fur as is anyway. He's grounded in that moment by the feeling of Grimm's hand holding his own and he's grateful for it. Normally it was the moth that got lost in his own mind but lately he'd been doing the same. Actually, he's been getting lost more and more often but he didn't want to think of that now. So he doesn't. Instead he focuses on his partner.
When they arrive to his room Brumm isn't surprised to see the mess, actually he's more surprised that it isn't worse. He knew the poor higher being hadn't had the willpower or energy lately to do much so it was expected that his room had suffered for it. At the apology he just shakes his head, "it's fine love... I don't mind. Mrmm, if you want I can help you tidy it up later if you'd like?"
For now though he does bend over to right the side table so that it wasn't a tripping hazard for either of them later. Also so that he could place his precious accordion on it as well as his mask. Now that they were alone he felt more comfortable showing his face to Grimm. Besides, it was best to remove that and his hood now so that it was easier to reach his fur to brush. "Mrmm, shall we get comfortable then? It might, um, it might take a while to get through it all."
The offer makes him pause, before he has to force a smile. Would there even be time for that? He doubted either of them would have the energy soon. He tries not to think about it, but he can't help it.
"...Sure."
It's all he can do, to keep himself from slipping. Pretending. It's what every Grimm was best at. He watches Brumm pick up the fallen table, feeling a pang of guilt, until that's distracted by the glimpse of his face. The moth's gaze lingers for only a moment, before he turns his attention away and moves up further onto the bed of soft blankets, making some effort to drag the out of place cushions to more appropriate positions. He tried to ignore the ache in his joints as he did. That didn't matter right now.
"That's fine by me. I have nowhere to be."
He laughs softly. He's really trying.
