#hubrisi

[patroklides]

dragging @hubrisi into DC fandom while also reawakening old muses, whoops.

[patroklides]

reblogging this over here, since it features @hubrisi's seere~

some slightly sacrilegious edeleth, feat. a trans fem byleth, commissioned from the wonderful @la-horrorosa!

[hymnblood]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. REPOST.

name.  sage

pronouns.  she / they / he

preference  of  communication.  discord tbh, i don’t enjoy tumblr ims because i don’t get notifications or my messages just won’t go through and i don’t know if it does or doesn’t lmao

name  of  muse.  zagreus mf hades game babie

rp  experience  /  how  long.  i’ve been writing for a good .... 9 years on tumblr. 

best  experience.  uhm. teehee i dont know writing wise. i guess when i met my best friend @hubrisi​ ?? they really helped me grow as a person when we first met, i don’t think i would’ve been able to heal as i have without them in my life and i just ... genuinely don’t know where i’d be without them?? meeting them changed my life tbh, i would never give up our friendship for anything in the world they’re the sweetest, realest, most honest person i’ve ever met and every day i’m so thankful for their patience and kindness to me when i struggled and relapsed into horrible habits. rp  pet  peeves  /  dealbreakers.  passive aggressive behavior when i haven’t replied in a while lmao, or also showing possessiveness over my muse if i’m rping w a duplicate of their muse. or ppl getting petty vagues about other people writing with duplicates of their muse. it’s like the one way to get a hardblock from me. i don’t tolerate petty, childish behavior over pixels on a screen, grow up, janet. i also hate the “ no one writes with me “ spiel every day of the week bc it wrecks my mood to be around bc then, eventually it’s all i see on my dash from rbs about people doing better ( as if they don’t have real lives and themselves to put first ) and then dash drama over it. like ... i can’t say much bc i’m writing a male muse, but if in my case, if i’ve sent you numerous asks which is the most obvious sign of me being interested and you haven’t answered a lick of shit of such and you continued to cry no one interacts with you, then it’s just gonna make me give up on trying and just sb. this has happened to me so many times across almost all of my fandoms i’ve written in. it’s really not cool to pull that card on people. sometimes people send an ask first to test the chemistry of their muses before randomly jumping into that person’s dms bc your writing, your muse, your ask reply, gave them motivation / ideas / a starting point to discuss things. it takes two to tango, but don’t leave someone dancing alone when they try to dance with you. OR having people become mutuals with me and i ask them about their muse’s background / original character beause they didn’t have anything proper and i’m told : idk . like. instantly annoys me, i get annoyed very easily and typically when this happens i just don’t bother bc i don’t write your muse how tf am i supposed to plot with you if you can’t even remember the character you write no less your oc fluff,  angst,  or  smut.  i’m fine with any of it and darker themes ( not gross shit ) just gotta be close to me for the last one for me to fully write it in deep detail, and overall everything just gotta be plotted plots  or  memes.  i prefer memes to kickstart plots :) long  or  short  replies.  depends, you’ll notice if something is heavily plotted if i’m writing novella length paragraphs ( that or i’m just super excited to write w someone ), short ones are usually on more casual interactions, or i’m warming up on my writing skills before getting into the flow again are  you  like  your  muse.  uhm. i’m not trapped in the underworld so no - lmao jk, i’d say we both have similar insecurities, trying to do our best, eventually fed up with how they’re treated so ultimately saying fuck it and existing outside of those expectations. my life has been a lot better since i’ve made the decision.

tagged by: @shenzuns​, this was weeks ago but tysm tagging : anyone interested

[patroklides-archive]

sylvbert, commissioned from @asgrony! ( a little something to make @hubrisi feel a little better, since things have been rough for them recently. <3 )

[necroarchy]

"how... curious,” the ruined king’s voice is as ominous as the mist that that both follows and embodies him, but if viego had to guess, he would wager it is hardly as if the man—or creature, if he was more sincere, considering how similarly etched in undeath he is; if he has abandoned the veneer of mortal, then he imagines another of his ilk would, too, below themselves as it may be—before him would find it foreboding. the camavorian tilts his helmeted head, gaze of lurid green lighting the thick darkness of his mists even behind such carapace. “i have yet to meet another as foul as i, but it seems it holds true most evils can meet its match.”

it almost thrills him as much as it offends him, the very notion he puts forth himself. but for now, he will hold his tongue.

the once-king undoes the appearance of the wraith, hidden as it is beneath his magic, shedding the black armor of the ruination, revealing pallid countenance. "tell me, stranger: who would you be?”

@hubrisi sent a starter.

     He arrives in avalanche procession.

     Lich-light spiderwebs delicately across the great pale darkness of foreign ruin; it flows as water through faultlines, fluid-smooth. Miniscule movements. Unremarkable. Nearly natural, were such an insult to be borne by either of them.

     Naturally. Nigh close as kin, weren’t they? And he had ever had such an… interest in his kin.

     There comes a crackling noise as light freezes alike ice. Spiderweb expands to cracks; the tremulous land shatters to so many more pieces. Ruin of his own making dusts this ~~pretender~~ king’s land in as rude a welcoming gift as he’s ever bequeathed. How shameful. What a travesty his father would consider him.

     Ah well. There were so much worse things to be. Such as… 

     “Are you so banal as to peddle in evil? My expectations lower by the moment.” Subterranean to start, and now the foggy wretch threatens to drive them further unto the earth’s core. Unbelievable. 

     Would be. Are not yet --- not ever? Did he really think… did he dare presume ---

     Would be ---

     “Myself,” he chuckles afloat a river of shrieks, “and everyone else. Don’t tell me you’ve foregone ambition in favor of some puerile morality.”

     A grin shears across his face, beneath the shadows of his own helm and the burning pits of his own eyes. A sheet of ice bare on the cliff-face, precarious and jagged. Stable ‘til the wrong (right) step or word.

[elegant-equilibrium]

the riverbank zed finds himself upon was a place well-visited upon another lifetime. it had been a long time since he had indulged in small sentimentalities, things to distract the mind with that have little to do with the yanlei and its mission; he expects no company, no soul beside his own in this particular patch of land, hidden as it is from the common visitor. yet, the one person he finds lurking nearby is perhaps the one exception to the discontent he’d surely feel, had he been disturbed in his outing.

it is the other soul that shares any fondness for this patch of dirt where water meets land. he remembers too well, the summer afternoons indulged in a long past shared childhood, things said and forgotten, or at least, tucked away in the quieter corners of his mind, their minds. the sweeter pickings in an orchard of bitterness.

he is sure the other remembers as well as he does, the certainty he latches upon damning as it is.

“—i would not expect you of all people to bother with such sentimentalities,” though this time, i would say it is pleasant to be proven wrong dies on his tongue, copper-brown gaze clear, unmasked. “have the kinkou bored you enough to reminisce?”

Shen isn't here for sentimentalities. There is no time for him to linger on the past or to submerge himself in memory like in the hot spring at the end of a long day. The Kinkou need to be trained, clothed, fed, and kept warm where they sit on top of the mountain, and Shen must oversee it all, as well as the balance of the nation. To spend time lost in nostalgia would be to waste the most valuable resource that he has. And yet ... the riverbank called to him. The blood on his hands from his most recent execution of balance has been washed away leaving strong, well-worked fingers clean and exposed to the late-summer air.

He is out of position. To be so close to the places of their youth is to be too close to the old Kinkou temple, the place where the Order of Shadow now reside. Even so, he does not expect his moment of peace to be interrupted. Perhaps, by now, he should know better.

Though he doesn't turn, those who know him would see a slight movement of his head that implies that he is listening, that he is aware of his visitor.

He would know those steps anywhere, even before a voice is added to them.

Shen's posture is tall and strong as a tree, rooted so deeply in the soil beneath that no storm could uproot him, but Zed has never been any ordinary storm.

His head tilts to the side like he's thinking, and after a moment Shen finally speaks. "I expected one of yours," he says, remembering countless times when he has run into a Shadow Order patrol, the countless times he has sent those disciples home injured but alive. This isn't his territory any more, after all; he cannot defend it like he once did. "I have not seen these trees in years," His tone is calm as a still pool of water. "We would have climbed them if they were strong enough to bear our weight." Shen's head tips back, the metal on his mask glinting in the sun as he cranes his neck to see the canopy. "Somehow, I expected them to stay the same."

[legendspun]

“... you are. mother.” seere’s tone is stilted, head tilting to the side as they watch sitri, tone flat and verdegris gaze unyielding, rise from her spot in the accursed altar laid by aelfric; perhaps they may have saved the children, but the foul deed was done all the same. they had never even seen the woman before outside retellings and while in their heart, they know the wrongness of it all, of her sacred slumber being disturbed... not all of them can be alarmed. was their very existence not a sacrilege in itself? something neither mundane nor holy, the ghost of a goddess inhabiting the corners of their body, the crevices of their mind.

perhaps this is the legacy of their family: blurring the lines of natural and otherworldly at every turn. lowering the creator sword, they frown, the expression vague. “... this means the ritual has been successful. we failed to stop aelfric. but...” the pause that follows is pregnant as they avoid her gaze, watching the stone walls behind her figure. "i am glad. to meet you."

When Sitri awakens for a moment - just a moment - she thinks her twenty years of life and the death that followed may have all been one long dream. Her first memories are of the dark of the catacombs and though she has never been in this particular chamber she knows it is part of that labyrinthine structure from whence she came.

But then Sitri hears a voice, the voice of her child (not the cry she’s sure she heard before her lungs gave out but words, real words); propping herself up on the strange altar she looks down at them and thinks she would know them anywhere.

“I’m here,” Sitri says, voice weak from disuse and general disposition but then the reality dawns on her and choked up, she repeats, “you’re here, Seere.”

Back in Seere’s room Sitri is told a little of what has transpired since her rebirth, or at least what and who directly caused it. Aelfric’s deeds make her feel sick as little has ever done. How disappointed she is in the man she believed to be her friend, and yet, why detest the departed? Why muster those emotions when she could be focusing on her child, full grown, and speaking?

(there had been so many things she had wanted to tell them when first pregnant but it is all now a haze of grief and relief).

Sitri’s child has wards of their own now. She sees that in the odd, few possessions in the room and from what little they have mentioned of the current Garreg Mach.

(another possession sits, unspoken of. It is the same sword Seere had been holding when Sitri first awoke, not clean of blood; despite not having any memory of it something about its shape is as near familiar as the catacombs to her, but Sitri does not speak it.)

“Thank you, for coming for me,” she manages, “there must be so many who are proud of you, for good reason but I am just… so thankful, that I can see you. Speak with you. It was enough just to hold you in my arms the once but this, this is a blessing.”

A small smile blossoms upon her face, her hands forming the shape of prayer taught to her by Rhea despite herself.

[fillespreferees]

“oh! oh, thank gods! i thought we lost you…" [ sigurd to deirdre, persnaps? ]

The first thing Deirdre sees when she opens her eyes is her beloved, his brow creased with worry. She smiles. She does not like to see him fret in such a way but to know that he is there when she wakes will always bring a smile to her face. She reaches to touch his face and soothe the worry lines away but instead winces in pain.

As soon as she lifts her arm, she begins to remember what happened. There had been a battle. She rushed to his side to provide healing aid but had not paid enough attention to her own safety. There was an enemy cavalier that hit her in the shoulder. She cannot remember much else--she must have been knocked out. But it certainly explains the pain now searing through her arm.

"I will not be taken from you so easily, my love. I may not be the strongest but I will fight through anything to stay by your side."

[godblooded]

LIKE CALLS TO LIKE, and while the entity before him is unlike most of what he has seen, zed is not mundane enough a mortal not to scent the magic that oozes out of each of her pores—the taste of shadow, of something forbidden and forgotten, much unlike the curse he unleashed upon himsef, a decade or so ago. red gaze watches from behind the mask and while he slinks out of the shadows nearby, he doubts it goes unnoticed.

any other and he’d have doubted he could be sensed at all, but one who shares this gift would not be so naive.

“—tell me. have you gazed upon the tears or are you something else entirely?” [ to kitty, as we mentioned— ]

it is shadow to which she returns, unflinching. a dissipating vapor of ink that disperses so silently it loses color, swallowed by black, the absence of all.

the room listens to him. it breathes. she seems to form from nowhere and everywhere at once, created and destroyed to be created again.

“ dun unnerstand. ”

her voice is a quiet rasp of sound that envelopes him in its way. he can hear her in spite of the quiet of her volume. she need not scream or shout. she need not yell. her point makes itself by virtue of the universe making it for her.

one jewel cloaked in shade darts up to glance at his face, her chin raising until she has to look lazily forward to match his gaze. she seems enshrouded in the depth of the dark, and it in its depths to her. she suffers for it both ways.

“ whuht tea-yuhs? ”

[valorandgold]

@hubrisi I hope you’re ready for a spam of cute and dorky HC shit I dragged up from my old archived blog with M!Morgan, just remember you wanted this 😏

(tbh it’s about time I migrated some of my HCs over here anyway though)

[hymnblood]

if you receive this, you make somebody happy! go on and send this to ten of your followers who makes you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. if you get one back, even better! ♡ / also want u to know I finally broke down and bought Hades to play simply due to the fact I follow u

awh, you're so sweet! i'm glad i make you happy even in the smallest ways. i don't really send out asks like these so i'll just tag people i enjoy interacting with / chatting with ooc ! @saviata / @suender, @scythcd, @gildedwar, @cloudyfenrir/@cindersteps, @hubrisi, @rpscllion, it's not 10 ppl but it's something lmao

and also, YES GOOD AS YOU SHOULD, i will bring everyone into the hades game hivemind and you will all enjoy it. hades game god tier.

[patroklides-archive]

𝖉𝖎𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖒𝖊, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞; their voice, low and serene, seems almost comical with their wild, jewel-green hair stll dripping wet with river water. [ it’s been five years since you’ve heard that voice, but they sound exactly as you remember. but then, how could you forget when you hear that voice whispering in your every dream? ] she's unsure if she's meant to laugh –– they've never been good at modulating between sincerity and levity –– but a brittle, mirthless laugh, like broken glass, escapes her lips all the same.

          she flings her arms around them like she's done so many times before –– exactly like this, each and every time –– as if she cannot accept it until she feels the warm, solid weight of them beneath her fingers. she once worried that they hadn't survived; now, instead, she worries that they might greet her with sword drawn.

          [ did you miss me, they say, and you know they mean far more than these last five years. you memories are hazy, little more than a blur, but you remember them standing opposite you, holding a blade forged with the bones of a goddess, the sorrow on claude's face, your stepbrother's outstretched hand. it's a strange sensation, to remember your own death. yet both of you had died and been reborn long before you ever met, hadn't you? ]

          " you came back to me, " she says, instead of answering the question. " i had feared–– " she doesn't finish, cutting herself off with a sigh, with the shake of her head. " ––but you're here. i'm glad. "

          she reaches to brush leather-clad fingertips through damp fringe, an action just this side of too tender for what they're meant to be to each other now. the words stick in her throat for a moment [ you're so afraid the answer might be something you can't give ] before she asks, " what can i do to make you stay? "

question sentence starters / selectively accepting (for @hubrisi )

[necroarchy]

what is arthas's greatest personal regret? out of all choices made, what is the one choice he wishes he could undo entirely or do differently?

@hubrisi asked and i rambled <3

The thought came, brief and bright and sharp: Was she right?

No. No, she couldn’t be. Because if she was right, then he was about to become a mass murderer, and he knew that wasn’t who he was. He knew it.

----------

He had carried the guilt of that act alone all this time. But now he realized—it was all part of his destiny. If he had not slain his steed, he could not now bring it back. Alive, the horse would have feared him. Undead as it was, with fire for eyes, its bones held together by the necromantic magic that Arthas now could wield thanks to the gift of the mysterious Lich King, horse and rider could at last be reunited, as they had always been meant to be. It hadn’t been a mistake, seven years ago; he hadn’t been wrong. Not then, not now.

Not ever.

And this was proof.

     --- Arthas: Rise of the Lich King

     If you were to ask him, none.

     Arthas believes utterly, fervently, in the inevitability of his success. One of these days, eventually, no matter what, he’s going to win and he’s going to get his chance to rub it in the face of everyone who ever dared presume he isn’t the most important and special and great man to ever exist. It’s his destiny. Even his “failures” will one day be proven as the correct choice. It’s just.... going to take some time.

     “Regret” and “something he would change” are not interchangeable, in my mind. He’s capable of acknowledging failures, to a.... slight degree. One of his click lines during WC3 Scourge campaign is “I was a fool to trust in the Light.” During the Halls of Reflection dungeon, Horde-side, he will say, “I will not make the same mistake again, Sylvanas. This time there will be no escape. You will all serve me in death!“ He can acknowledge fuck-ups, but to say he regrets anything enough to change it is a step farther than I’m willing to take.

     More than anything else, Arthas seeks validation. That his fall to darkness was inevitable, that his choices were relatable. He is who is his, simultaneously because he has made himself such, and also because there was no other person he could be. He conducts the War in Northrend the way he does, weeding out the “weak” to seek out those ruthless and vicious enough to follow in his footsteps, for the same reason that he convinces himself that he shouldn’t have felt guilty for euthanizing Invincible. At every moment, he is busy convincing himself that he is exactly who he was always going to be by the machinations of both destiny and his own determination.

     He can’t seek to change the past. The past is what brought him here, to this exact moment, and this moment is exactly where he wants to be. Where he is meant to be. And he will spend every second of his existence proving it.

[patroklides]

tag drop pt 3

— iii. dyn: hubrisi. ✧ you wanted to prove there was one safe place where you could love him. ﹂DIMITRI & DEDUE.﹁ — iii. dyn: hubrisi. ✧ did he find that one last tender place to sink his teeth in? ﹂DIMITRI & HUBERT.﹁ — iii. dyn: hubrisi. ✧ don’t let me in with no intention to keep me. ﹂SYLVAIN & HUBERT.﹁ — iii. dyn: hubrisi. ✧ i had a dream about you; we were in the gold room where everyone gets what they want. ﹂SIGURD & HUBERT.﹁ — iii. dyn: hubrisi. ✧ if you have to go， you know i will go with you. ﹂IKE & SOREN.﹁ — iii. dyn: hubrisi. ✧ stay with me， hold my hand; there’s no need to be brave. ﹂ZELGIUS & MICAIAH.﹁ — iii. dyn: hubrisi. ✧ you said i could have anything i wanted but i just couldn’t say it out loud. ﹂GLENN & HUBERT.﹁ — iii. dyn: hubrisi. ✧ you can’t choose what stays and what fades away. ﹂SEERE & EDELGARD.﹁ — iii. dyn: hubrisi. ✧ love might be the wrong word. ﹂JAYCE & VIKTOR.﹁ — iii. dyn: hubrisi. ✧ i like shiny things， but i’d marry you with paper rings. ﹂PETRA & DOROTHEA.﹁

[pivlywhip]

Deciding I needed a big pile of multicolor sugar stars was an act of hubrisI was not prepared for 😂

[fillespreferees]

Once Upon A Dream

Deirdre and Sigurd with @hubrisi

Deirdre’s life has been one wrought with loneliness.  Hated and feared by the people of Verdane outside of her Spirit Forest, she has never known anyone even remotely near her own age.  There was never anyone to play with or confide in.  The old women who raised her, raised her mother too.  She’s asked if they knew her mother’s mother as well but she is never told anything about her lineage.  

She had to be content with forest creatures and fairy tale stories for company.  She had to be content with closing her eyes and imaging what it might be like to be held and loved.  But unlike the cursed princesses that handsome knights rescue, hers is a curse not even true love can break.

Everything changes the day she meets Sigurd of Chalphy in Marpha.

After running as fast as her legs could carry her away from the only man who's ever looked at her with kindness, not fear and love, not lust, Deirdre lets out a squeal in the quiet, safety of her forest. She has never felt so full! Joy bubbles up inside of her and erupts in a twirl and a lovestruck sigh. She never imagined someone so divinely handsome and gentle could exist outside the pages of a story and yet there he was!

"Lord Sigurd of Chalphy!" She sings his name gayly as she skips through the safety of the trees. Her heart aches to know she will never see him again but she decides right then that she will never, ever forget the memory of meeting him. Even if she must live the rest of her life longing and alone, she knows at least she will always be able to picture those kind, shining blue eyes.

A couple of songbirds fly down from their nest and imitate Deirdre's melody. She laughs and holds out a finger for one to land on.

"Oh but you would sing too had you seen him! It was as though he stepped right out of my books! He even dressed like a fairy tale prince! All in white with a flowing blue cape! All that he was missing was his snow white steed!"

She would still love him even without the steed, of course. How could she not!

The birds chirp together and fly off but Deirdre hardly notices. Her mind can only focus on thoughts of love and forget-me-not blue eyes. But the birds return quickly, joined by others, and carrying a blue blanket Deirdre had hung on the line to dry early that morning.

"Oh yes! It was just like that!" She pulls the blanket around her arms and tries to imagine what it would feel like if a pair of strong arms accompanied it.