“ Gotcha !! ” there’s no malicious intent as hands come to wrap  from behind, only playfulness from the adolescent. Laughter  would soon follow as he would come to assume his success in  startling the other. “ Pretty sneaky, eh ? I bet I scared ya ! ”

@warvigilante​​ got a starter !

         and  were  dearest  vigilante  any  less  of  a  playful  soul  themselves,  perhaps  they  would  tell  him  how  difficult  it  is  to  sneak  up  on  someone  who  has  relied  on  and  thus  honed  their  hearing  for  a  greater  part  of  their  existence.   the  physical  contact,  however,  does  incite  a  genuine  jolt  of  their  form  and  the  immediate  exhale  of  an  amused  huff.

Loud places, or more specifically those with overlapping noise, make it difficult for them to differentiate and concentrate, either disorientating them or causing the equivalent of tunnel vision, trying to navigate their surroundings but being nearly oblivious to anything beyond their immediate space. Quiet yet potentially crucial noises get easily drowned out, and just the idea of that makes them incredibly uncomfortable.

In contrast, their comfort in quiet places largely depends on whether it is merely silence between friends or a distinct lack of life. Empty spaces make them nervous because they are a very social creature, always have been. Regardless of their blindness, Fortune does not feel well by themselves and will gravitate towards any form of life, especially around Monsters and after their death. Unfamiliar spaces in particular make them nervous because they are not as confident in navigating them. 

This is why in verses like Deltarune and the surface they frequent calm, enclosed spaces such as the Cafe or Grillby’s. Although they both may get loud, particularly the latter, it is a perfectly familiar and trusted environment and being so attuned to Monsters and their essences makes it easy for Fortune to map out where everyone is. They may also simply step into the next building they can find if they get too overwhelmed. 

THE KINDRED SPIRIT.  your  soul  is  like  a  mirror  for  others  to  find  their  own  beauty.  you  see  the  best  in  people  and  you  strive  to  bring  it  out  in  them.  you  draw  all  sorts  of  people  to  yourself  and  you  make  them  feel  seen.  but  who  sees  you?  you  try  so  hard  to  take  care  of  everyone  else,  watering  everyone  else's  garden  until  there's  nothing  left  for  your  own  flowers.  when  will  you  fight  for  your  own  heart  as  strongly  as  you  try  to  nurture  others?

        and  to  their  credit,  dear  specter  would  have  kept  quiet  even  while  serving  as  makeshift  rest  for  skeleton’s  arm.   a  familiar  notion  of  which  they  have  been  the  victim  as  much  as  they  were  the  perpetrator.   but  they  are  nay  fool.   his  weight  ‘pon  their  being  increases  and  immediately  do  reflexes  take  over  as  stance  widens  and  form  tenses,  hands  burying  into  the  fabrics  of  new  companion’s  thick  winter  coat  to  hold  fast  in  defiance  against  what  they  know  will  soon  see  them  crushed.  

(  it  begins  to  cloud  your  senses  and  for  but  a  heartbeat’s  worth  —  one  you  no  longer  possess  —  you  remember.  suffocating  dread  ceases  your  spine,  your  lungs  and  your  mind.  a  darkness  more  stifling  than  your  own,  pressing  down  upon  your  body  as  much  as  your  SOUL,  wrestling  away  control.  you  remember —  )  

    — his  voice.   he  speaks  and  quickly  receives  a  scoff  in  return,  though  its  scorn  is  merely  play,  fractions  of  mirth  woven  throughout.  ❝  ANEMONE ! ❞  a  scolding  shout  that  quickly  bleeds  into  near  childish  whine  as  knees  begin  to  buckle  and  their  upper  body  twists  to  accommodate  the  increasing  weight.   ‘neath  exhaled  breath  comes  a  curse  (  nightshade !  )  and  at  any  other  time,  they  would  be  delighted  to  get  a  better  sense  of  the  monster  they  travel  beside,  to  be  given  more  than  what  silhouette  and  presence  their  hearing  paints.  

         ❝  Perhaps  if — ❞    pause.   thoughts  are  collected  and  a  posture  slumped  finally  rights  itself,  head  held  high  with  a  smile  that  tells  of  how  much  they  are  trying.   an  old  habit  fills  their  lungs  with  a  breath  they  do  no  longer  need  and  free  hand  gently  lies  ‘pon  that  of  matriarch  dreemurr.    ❝  It  has  been  a  while, ❞    an  understatement,  they  suspect,  spoken  with  a  subtle  huff  of  laughter.    ❝  Perhaps  Her  Majesty  would  deign  to  show  me  around ?  Refresh  my  memory  and  paint  a  new  picture. ❞

The people who have hurt you do not think of it.  Follow their example.

PEOPLE HURT YOU.  I  know  this,  and  you  do  too.   Here  is  an  uncomfortable  reality:  you  have  hurt  people  too.   If  you  think  you  have  not  then  you're  being  deluded,  it's  ok.   I  understand.   It  is  human  nature  to  be  hurt  and  hurt.   It  isn't  fair  and  often  it  is  accidental,  but  which  do  you  think  about  more ?   You  think  of  being  hurt  more.   The  ones  who  hurt  you  probably  think  little  about  it,  or  forgot  that  they  ever  did  it  at  all.   Why  must  you  keep  their  memory  alive ?   Pain  is  a  fire  fueled  by  thought,  and  here  you  are,  chopping  up  furniture  to  keep  it  ablaze.   Pain  is  useful,  yes,  sure.   That's  very  John  Green  of  you  to  say,  it's  very  easy  to  paint  our  pain  as  necessary  for  beautifully  tragic  things  so  that  we  have  an  excuse  to  not  shed  ourselves  of  it,  to  make  ourselves  less  interesting.  

You  are  better  than  the  pain,  you  are  worth  more  than  the  memories  you  rot  yourself  with.   Learn  to  move  on,  learn  to  forget,  learn  to  build  yourself  so  high  that  the  long  reach  of  the  devil  can't  claw  you  back  down.   I  will  be  here  for  all  of  it,  I  will  always  be  here,  helping  where  I  can.   I  believe  in  you  in  all  the  times  that  you  do  not.