The collective: An itty bitty dive into the lads~
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Blank is a silent type, quiet and still, never open nor seemingly caring.
A simple mask of unknown emotion that sits upon heavy shoulders.
Blank waits. Watches. Bides. And then strikes when he is goaded into action.
Blank is the one who acts. But only when he must.
Blank is a tool, as much as a person, a motivator and the motivation.
A sword. An axe. A warhorse. A bloodied fist through the walls of torment.
He rages, he protects, he destroys.
But only when he must. Only when he can.
Only when another's actions must be mirrored, met, and overcome.
Dizzy: The one who flees.
Dizzy fears, regrets, shakes, and hides.
A clean and untouched visage, only because he knows when to avoid conflict.
Fight is not in his nature, only fawn and flight.
Hoping to avoid the freeze. Yet always chilled to the bone.
Agile and trembling, he acts as in alarm.
An almost supernatural ability to detect and suspect danger around every corner constantly clouding his mind and making him rash.
He is the one who flees, dodges, weaves, vanishes.
Inciting reaction within those who he touches.
Self preservation made into a shambling caricature.
Because everything is something to fear.
Soft spoken, gentle, exhausted, and empty.
An unwilling vessel for all that stings, burns, putrefies, incites nausea, and weakens.
Stalwart and enduring, a shield made of stained edifice and lurching stomach.
Unwilling to harm, but burdened by the ache.
His mask is rarely worn, unneeded and well earned.
He does not have to hide himself from the harsher truths.
He already knows. Already feels.
His is the unwanted, the unloved, and the burdensome.
His is the face of blame and guilt.
Not from himself, but from those who do not understand that he serves a purpose.
LoverBoy: The one who chases.
Shameful him, the wretched thing.
Blinded and ever hungering to be hungered for.
Bloodied body scarred over and cut open anew each morning by another taste of hubris and desire
He chases, chases, chases, chases.
Hoping to never again be caught by the talons of the things that haunted him so deeply.
Even when his mask was renewed, it was a frightening thing.
Molded and shaped from pasts that should have never happened.
Memories wishing to be forgotten.
Subtle trembling in grasping fingers.
For what is love, if not a broken and beaten thing, daring to hope and hope and hope again for a better tomorrow.
Glitch and Virus: Two sides of a coin.
For every action, equal and opposite reaction
For every sugary taste of joy, there is the bitter swill of sorrow.
For every wave of inspiration, there is drowning isolation.
For every bright smile, a dim and dull grin.
For all the colors in the universe, there are shadows and shades that fill the spaces between the light.
These are not so good and bad as they seem, merely two sides of a whole.
Light needs dark to shine it's brightest.
Dark needs light to cast its shadow ever stronger.
Both have their places, their needs, their intentions.
Balance. If only just. Both capable of beautiful and terrible things, when encouraged or ignored.
After all, roads to hell can be paved with good intentions.
And stairways to heaven can be an arduous and painful pathway.
It is only a matter of perspective, and understanding.
Reflection and Projection.
Working in light and shadow.
The core of it all, fused into one.
The voice, the ear, the arms, the legs.
A mind, heart, body, and soul.
Just a silly thing, with silly ideas, and silly motivations.
The author of a terrible, terrible Tumblr Post.
Ready to create in a new home, far away.
An absolute UNIT of cringe.
Through change, reflection, effort, and untangling, they make up the collective within a single mind.
Masks transformed and turned into new reflections.
All the same, yet different.
Facets renewed and changed.
Ready to make something (hopefully) fantastic.
Or, at the very least, make you breathe some air out of your nose a little harder than usual.
theartofmadeline
titsay
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
areudirty
pixelskylines
