#othamo oculus

[spamtonromantic]

hi

[fins-n-faygo-kinhelp]

wanted to make an edit for a fantroll, did not want to edit the pesterquest. I feel like it? turned out pretty decent? for a very first try?

[luminescentlyricist]

VD: y⊙ur turn, buddy :o)8 (if y⊙u want t⊙, that is)

VD: n⊙ full ⊙n pr⊙mpt, but h⊙w ab⊙ut just s⊙me b⊙nding? maybe putting my makeup ⊙n ⊙r fixing up my hair, y⊙u kn⊙w, getting int⊙ the r⊙utine. can g⊙ any directi⊙n y⊙u want, ⊙r y⊙u can use an entire different pr⊙mpt. i just want t⊙ hear y⊙ur take ⊙n me :o)8

;; Gotcha!! Hope you like this :o)

🃏A Road To Recovery ⊙

Being the newest troll in the circus troupe, as unintentional as it was, Jezakk often stood out like a sore thumb when it came to showcasing his skillsets. He was unbearably graceless, even though he had never adorned the classical shoes that the clowns seemed so fond of. He left trails in his wake, whether or not it was a physical presence. Scent trails, more often than not, that were unbearably easy for a certain other troll to pick up on. While the tinkerer had never established himself as a sociable troll, he kept himself silent despite his yearnings for interaction of any kind. It was a strange fear that helped him maintain his otherwise unassuming nature, though it did nothing to deter one Othamo Oculus. If anything, the smaller of the two had the feeling he was being watched around a corner more often than not, regardless of Othamo’s lack of sight.

Then, there was always the heaviness. Although noticeably thinner and smaller in stature when compared to the other purplebloods around him, there was an uneasy leadening feeling that occasionally swept him, and it was nothing that he could yet explain. Of course, there were quite a lot of things that he had failed to glean from his short time in the facility, when he was conscious. The only conclusion he could draw was that it was a power-based backlash from his time as Othamo’s chucklevoodoo puppet. Jezakk felt there were also things that he had been told then, critically, that his amnesia - as a result of the unfortunate puppetry - had made him forget.

This was one of those times that he didn’t want to forget. Jezakk sat out in the hallways leading to one room of the Mordant King, the ringmaster of the whole group and undisputed Lord of the Circus. Panton Magnic was his name, but that title had been long since forgotten in favour of raw greed and want to establish his power with a title. Sometimes, his tinkerer mused that Othamo was no longer the main puppeteer of the troupe. He fidgeted restlessly with the small golden pendant he had been given on his first day, twisting it around in his claws and glancing downwards to catch the Capries as it flashed in the light of the windows. These windows, Jezakk thought, were unnecessarily large, and depicted circus acts in manners more suited to scenes of the Sufferer’s preaching than entertainments.

He looked around himself, heart beginning to pound in his chest. Panton’s name was the only memory he had retained from the many-sweep-long amnesia, and he wasn’t sure why. It barely mattered. If he shared it with anyone, he feared being exiled from the troupe and never seeing Sealdad again. And the healing of his father’s injury was exactly what landed him in the troupe in the first place. It was strange how desperate he had once been to get into the area, because all he wanted now was to escape. But there was a moral dilemma to deal with, and that was the fact that he would have to choose between his friend and his father if he wanted to get out. As much as Othamo gave Jezakk the creeps, he remained one of the lucky few that held his attention for long enough.

There were vaguely familiar voices behind the door, those of Ferrum and Mierle, two of the other purplebloods that he often crossed paths with. They were friendly enough, but he was wary nonetheless. Tilting his head and standing, he realised that there was no way he was going to hear the conversation. After a few moments, they exited together, looking quite shaken. Laughing dryly to himself, Jezakk shivered in anticipation and dread. He’d not been looking forward to any sort of meeting with the ringmaster, and the unnaturally hesitant appearances of the other trolls did nothing to reassure him. Smiling at them as they passed, he forced his hands to his sides and entered the room without waiting for Panton to call him through.

First mistake.

There was something unnerving about the way that Panton swivelled on his heel to greet the other, and the calm smile that he wore did nothing to soften the sharpness in his gaze. Something told Jezakk silently to turn tail - literally, as it squeezed around his waist tight enough to hurt - and get out of there before he was sliced into. Instead, the tinkerer bowed his head to show his respect, stepping forward. Despite his acquaintances’ nervousness, the naive tinkerer saw next-to-nothing that he should have been concerned about until the ringmaster raised an eyebrow, clasping his hands in front of his body neatly and beginning to speak. His tone was soft and disarming, made to rekindle a false sense of security. Although the smaller knew this, he couldn’t help but begin to let his guard down.

“Y/o\)u( KN/o\W, JEZAKK, I��VE BEEN THINKING AB/o\)u(t Y/o\)u( RECENTLY.”

This caused Jezakk’s eyebrows to raise in alarm, but he was otherwise still. He’d had to work on suppressing his fidgeting in fear of irritating the other troupe members, which had also caused him to unintentionally become skilled in preventing general movements and emotional displays. Raising his head to look at Panton, he remained silent.

“THERE’S A SMALL J/o\B I WANT Y/o\)u( T/o\ D/o\ F/o\R ME, AND THERE IS N/o\ /o\NE ELSE Q)u(ITE S)u(ITED F)o(R IT. Y/o\)u( ARE FAMILIAR WITH THE BEES, I TR)u(ST? I HAVE SPENT AN ADMITTEDLY L/o\NG TIME SEARCHING F/o\R S/o\ME/o\NE WILLING T/o\ C)u(LTIVATE THEIR H/o\NEY, AND I HAVE N/o\W C/o\ME T/o\ A RECENT F/o\REG/o\NE C/o\NCLUSI/o\N THAT Y/o\)u( MAY J)u(ST BE THE PERFECT CANDIDATE.”

Jezakk often spoke without foreseeing consequence, and lacked much of a social filter. It proved itself a dire slip to make more often than not.

“I’Ll do IT, sir.”

Panton’s smile widened, showing off rows of teeth more suited to a shark than any troll. It was less comforting than it was menacing, and the ringmaster’s next words sent a chill through his subordinate’s whole body for no clear reason.

“AH, GOOD! I AM S/o\ GLAD I F/o\UND Y/o\)u(, JEZAKK. Y/o\)u( START IMMEDIATELY, N/o\ Q)u(ESTI/o\NS ASKED. ASK /o\C)u(L)u(S F/o\R ASSISTANCE IF Y/o\)u( M)u(ST AND BEAR IN MIND THE AM/o\)u(NT /o\f FAITH I AM PLACING HERE. D/o\ N/o\T BREAK IT, F/o\R THE C/o\NSEQ)u(ENCES WILL BE DIRE.”

And with that, Panton Magnic returned to his work. Jezakk shifted in his stance. There was a creak as the door was leaned against by another from the outside, and the man only looked up once more from his work before smiling - almost threateningly, despite the lack of teeth - and waving to dismiss the troll in front of him.

Leaving the room, the little tinkerer never expected to see Othamo already there and waiting for him to follow. Placing a hand on the blind troll’s shoulder to indicate where he stood, he looked towards his companion.“WElL shIt. DIDn’T expEcT TO hEar thaT. UH… wEll. I KNoW yoU caN gENERaLlY SMEll yoUr waY AROuNd pRettY weLL, oThAMO, Sir, BUt I thINK I’ll LEAve THe hEAvY LIfTin tO VIZeRA aNd LUmIra WHen I CAn GeT THeM to LIsTen ENOugH.”

Othamo raised an eyebrow, waving to Jezakk as if trying to snap him out of some kind of daze. There, on the palm of his hand, was a carefully drawn eye. Jezakk looked dumbly at it, placing his hand over the one seemingly offered to him. This caused the other to flinch back, curling his nose in disgust. The scent of lemons was heavy in the air, which made him smile despite the distaste he’d show moments prior. He treated those inferior to him as they should have been treated, and never once considered that the tinkerer - a newbie, fresh meat, the perfect little puppet for his games - would be any different, regardless of the time he had in an uncomfortably close proximity and seeing through his eyes. Although it was normally an unpleasant, sharp scent, the undertones of fruitiness unique to the other made fear smell inviting.

“i can see a little bit, y⊙u kn⊙w. en⊙ugh t⊙ want t⊙ c⊙mment ⊙n h⊙w idi⊙tic that was t⊙ assume.”

He murmured, pointing towards the eye on his palm and inadvertently causing Jezakk to look down towards it, even though he had nervously averted his gaze prior. The lemon still hung in the air between them, and the smaller’s appreension was unrelenting. Tension ran through his every movement, and the stiffness was what caused him to fumble and almost trip over. He likely would have, had Othamo not reached out to steady him, unintentionally knocking their bodies a little closer than was comfortable. The taller chuckled, letting his arms fall from around Jezakk and noting how powerful his lemon scent was after that, enough to make his head spin.

“i can generally see thr⊙ugh eye shapes as well, n⊙t just y⊙ur eyes. thatd be selfish, d⊙nt y⊙u think? als⊙, the legends are true. y⊙u smell ⊙f blackberries and fear.”

Jezakk nodded silently, seeing that Othamo would notice the gesture without shifting his arm. He couldn’t help but laugh in fear, even though his words were stuck in his throat, making it near impossible to muster any vocal reply. There was something disarming about the puppeteer, but he was entirely aware of what he was doing. It was making Jezakk on edge, constantly, and he hated it. As such, he sped up his walking, attempting to get as far away from his companion as possible. Due to his dismal height difference, it only took a few rapid strides for Othamo to catch up.

He still intended for the others to help, however, so he continued on his merry way while periodically checking whether or not his ‘friend’ remained at a safe distance from him. There was really no use bothering him further. The first section of the journey to his practice room - as it was in an entirely separate tent to the Ringmaster’s quarters - was filled with a tense silence, which at least one of the pair seemed to heavily regret. The tinkerer was spinning his Capries necklace about in his fingers as an anxious fidget once again, something he performed under stress frequently enough that he took no notice of the action more often than not. Attempting to break the silence, Othamo spoke. It was more of a private mumble than anything directed towards Jezakk, despite that he was wrongly addressed.

“i have n⊙ idea why that jerk th⊙ught it was a g◎︶◉d idea t⊙ put me in charge ⊙f the bees, jazakk.“

“JazAkK? I’M jEzAkk.”

To this, the puppeteer simply shrugged, giving his companion a toothy smile. There was no true joy in the action, and it was unnervingly similar to the Ringmaster’s in that it was more threatening than anything else. Othamo never appeared to drop his grin, which was one of the other reasons Jezakk found it hard to detect whether or not he was being genuine about his expressions. Reaching to place a hand on Jezakk’s shoulder in a mimicry, his claws dug deeper than necessary. He spoke in a hiss, though there was some lightness to it that was reassuring. As if he never meant to threaten, but it was habitual.

“well, y⊙ure n⊙t t⊙ me. y⊙ur ⊙fficial nickname is jazzy n⊙w.”

“I- fiNE. BuT You cAn’T LEt anyONe eLsE knoW… Ah, hERE we aRe. WaNnA CoMe in fOr a BIT? I dOn’t miNd thE cOMpAnY. NObOdy elSe mUch PUTs UP wIth me THeSe daYs. SoRRy… Uh, sOrRY AbOUt thE mEss. I’VE bEen tiNKerINg QUItE a BIT. sEcreT PRoJect.”

The tinkerer, still fidgeting restlessly, rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I SHoUld proBabLY gO anD sOrt ouT the BEE buSINess foR a Bit. NOw thAt I knoW yoU don’T wannA dEal WITh thEm. FeEL frEe to LOOk arOunD, i guEss.”

With that, he left his friend to his own devices for a moment, which likely wasn’t a good idea. There were things scattered all over the place in a frantic manner, as if there had been a fight or something had occurred very quickly. Otherwise, the room seemed relatively empty on the ground, instead hosting shelves that lined the walls filled with boxes of all shapes and sizes. These were Jezakk’s pride and joy; the jack-in-the-boxes were what he was known for among his friends, and rightfully so. He’d definitely honed his craft, making them with an unprecedented love and precision.

Luckily enough, certain trolls - such as Othamo himself, and Jezakk - had been born with tails, according to whether or not their lusus had one, although it was rare. This enabled Othamo to better navigate the room, sweeping objects aside and out of his path to sit and wait for his friend’s return. Closing his eyes, the troll noticed soon enough that there was a strangely printed pair of leggings discarded across a chair, and his grin widened. Perfect. Their ocular design - unnerving to some, and even more so to Othamo himself because of his phobia - would enable him to see properly, though significantly blurred. He had chosen to sit on Jezakk’s recuperacoon, which had been fitted with a cover. It seemed nearly unused.

Activating the chucklevoodoos he was so adept at using, feeling about for the eyes and latching onto them, he made sure to keep his own closed. He wouldn’t need them. Observing the room through his ’new’ sight made his head spin, more than it ever had before. But the fruity scents were like a comforting punch in the nose, so to speak, and it helped him relax slightly and disregard the strangeness of it. There was nothing he could see that would possibly reveal the secret Jezakk had mentioned beforehand, or so he thought. The truth was that he wished to sell his jack-in-the-boxes to help him gather enough Caegars and ensure a safer escape from the troupe.

Meanwhile, Jezakk had located one of the two trolls he wished for help, and he was glad to find that ze was pleasant enough for him to avoid losing his composure. Vizera was slightly too loud for his tastes, and he kept his distance from the acrobat beside him, recalling the enthusiasm with which she had accepted his comparatively gentle plea for assistance. It was not exactly his ideal bottle of Faygo.

“LuMira? YEs, hElLo. It’S… JEzAkk, AND i Don’t THiNk we’VE reaLLy spOken, bUT i wAS WOndeRIN if I couLd HavE soMe heLp mOVIn thEse BeEhOUsEs inTo mY roOm.”

“YEAH, LLLLLUMIIIIIRA! HELLLP THE KIIIID OUT, WON’TCHA? HE’S A NEWBIIIE, AND YOU KNOW HOW THE RIIINGMASTER GETS IIIIF NEWBIIIES GET THIINGS WRONG!”

The troll at the door wore a pleasant smile, directing zir gaze towards Vizera and nodding before looking back towards the little tinkerer, who was significantly shorter than both of them.

“oh!! of course i’ll helP you, jezakk!! i suPPose i have enough time, and i wouldn’t wish for you to get in trouble with the ringmaster!!”

With a small sigh of relief, Jezakk smiled towards Lumira - still, unfortunately, finding it rather difficult to speak because of the new people around him - and led the two through the task, eventually saying his shaky goodbyes to the two and returning behind the safely closed doors of his room. His heart was pounding in his chest, and there was nothing that could have possibly prepared him for the sight that greeted him in that moment. It was an absolute mess. Everything that was scattered on the floor beforehand had been shoved to the side messily. The fact that a few of the jack-in-the-boxes had fallen from their shelves had just established itself as the second most distressing sight there.

The first, of course, was Othamo.

Immediately, the smaller’s hands retrieved his card deck, and he began to rapidly shuffle them as a reaction to his nerves. There was nothing else he could think of except the boy on the floor, but his body completely refused to move in a way he wanted it to. It was hard to decipher what had happened, exactly, but Othamo was laid out on the floor, staring blankly towards the tapering ceiling with eyes weakly flickering purple. He looked as if he’d been almost paralysed. Tears dripped their way down his cheeks, an even paler lavender than his eyes themselves. The only sound in the room - that Jezakk could hear - was the beating of his own heart, so loud and panicked that it drowned everything else.

Jezakk wasn’t used to this at all. His claws were trembling as he shuffled his cards around, silken gloves at risk of unravelling from where they were pulled high to his shoulders. He wasn’t truly expecting anyone to be with him within his practice room, let alone when he returned to it after Othamo had scheduled a busy day at the shows. Because he was new to the troupe, everyone else tended to have more performances than he did, which left him lonely. But here Othamo was, finally giving him the company he so craved, and he had no idea what to do. Everything was just a little bit too wrong, and no amount of physical messing around could fix it. So he distracted himself first, because his thinkpan wasn’t letting him make any lateral solution to the problem yet.

Tiptoeing around so that he didn’t disturb anyone else, Jezakk let his mind drift away from his friend for a moment. He placed his cards away, attempting and failing to regulate his breathing. How could he, when his pan was being wild? Instead, he walked around and picked up all of his boxes that had fallen, softly humming a show tune under his breath that he was fairly sure Panton himself had composed. He wasn’t sure why his pan had strayed to it, but he didn’t like it much. There was a funny taste in his mouth about it, because it meant that something about that suave, manipulative asshole was genuinely likeable. Shaking his head physically in an attempt to clear it, Jezakk placed the last box upon the shelves and redirected his attention to his friend.

Clearing a space to sit next to Othamo, he crossed his legs and began to sing a little louder. Even though his voice was croaky and awful because of the tears that had begun to greet his eyes and blur his vision, he continued, hoping that his voice would at least rouse the one on the floor. There wasn’t much else he was able to do, because he couldn’t properly attend to someone who was unconscious. Othamo was practically a dead weight as it stood, so manipulation would prove difficult for Jezakk. Nonetheless, he continued to sing to his friend, the frown lifting from his lips into a smile.

However negative, he enjoyed the time he spent with the puppeteer, and hoped Othamo felt the same. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, the clown gently wiped the tears away from his friend’s cheeks and eyes, which caused them to flutter and Othamo to stir. He flinched back, seeing the purple sparks that licked at his fingers, and shuffled his position so that he could give him some space to properly orientate himself.

“Ah, SHit, sORRy otH. DidN’T, UH, didN’t meAN tO hUrT YOu or ANytHIn…”

Othamo’s unseeing gaze followed Jezakk’s voice when he struggled into a sitting position, and he shrugged, not having gathered enough composure to vocalise his thoughts. Everything was spinning, and he felt dizzy even though there was no visual indication of it.

Although there was no longer a smile upon the tinkerer’s face, he was relieved beyond expression that Othamo had actually stirred. His fears often caught up with him, and he’d panicked about leaving the other troll to get into a bigger accident. Observing the smudging face paint smeared across his puppeteer’s cheeks in blackened tear trails, he pursed his lips. Softly telling Othamo to wait - as if he could do anything else - Jezakk left the room, locating Othamo’s own and entering it. It was cluttered, sure enough, but he was soon able to locate some liquorice-scented face paint among the jars of scenting strings and return to his friend.

“HOLd on. I thInk YOu smUdGed, mAn. LEmMe heLp yoU.”

He murmured, lifting the puppeteer into his arms with a groan and placing him on top of his recuperacoon once more, back against the wall. He hopped onto the cover himself, settling beside Othamo with his supplies. Taking a makeup brush and some remover, he began to gently brush away the crust of old makeup and remove the rest. After he was mostly clean, Jezakk preceded to wash his friend’s face of the smears with warm water on a cloth, all the while mumbling rapid-fire apologies whether or not he’d actually hurt the troll. He didn’t know how long it’d been since the blind troll had been able to reapply it himself or bothered to, but it couldn’t have been good.

He wrinkled his nose upon twisting the paint’s cap off, the scent making him almost vomit. Why Othamo liked liquorice was something he’d never understand, but he dipped the brush into the pot and began to carefully outline the boy’s ‘mask’ nonetheless. Subconsciously, he found his singing beginning again as he worked but reducing itself to a vague hum. It was a habit he’d suppressed, like many others, but Othamo made him feel safer about expressing himself. Filling it in gently, with slow and rhythmic strokes, he was pleased to find that the paint was drying rather quickly.

“YOu shOuLd gET soMe reST, BRoTHer. I CAn’T be sURE hoW loNg yOu weRe ouT FOr, buT yoU SEEm tiRed AS alL hEll. I hoPe I DId yoUr FACe PaInt WELl enOugH. I guEss I’M prEttY LucKy THaT YOu cAm’T SEE it… I’LL chEck On yoU LAtER, but I SHouLd go DEaL witH acTaLLy geTTin ThE bees FOr thE hOuseS. YOu caN usE mY reCUPerAcoON toDaY, lOokin IN no RIgHT sTaTe tO BE MOvIN.”

Once again using his unprecedented, caste-granted strength, the boy moved Othamo enough to slip the cover away from under him and help him ease into the slime underneath. Jezakk remembered how warm and relieving the sopor was, especially for physical pain. He’d installed a special heating apparatus underneath it so he - or another recipient - wouldn’t get cold in the harsher Alternian months. Turning this on and walking towards the door, Jezakk flashed Othamo an equally warm smile that would go unseen, but was nice regardless. Feeling a deeper sense of satisfaction than he had in sweeps, the tinkerer flicked the lights off and partially drew the door closed.

“HAve A gOOd rEsT, BRoTHer. yoU dEsERvE it. I’m pROuD oF yoU.”

[carnevul]

please consider: bastard puppeteer man

(also wow the quality died maybe click to make it look better)

[visualdefiance]

welcome to visualdefiance! before you stands the blog for a recently out-of-work blind puppeteer, left with nothing left to do but start an ask blog for himself. who knows, it could be fun!

==> TROLL THE PUPPET MAN.

(DNI and extra under the cut)

magic anons are allowed!

people may send roleplay-esque asks BUT if you want a fullblown roleplay you’ll have to dm me. also i may still reject rp requests

dont be fucking nasty! you know what I mean by that!

you MAY flirt with othamo, but keep it tame.

dni if youre an lgbt+phobe, pro-ship(per), anti-anti, radfem, ect. theres others that may get you blocked with no warning.

also heres his (incredibly old) reference sheet!

[flush-hearts]

WHATS UP, BITCHES? SPADES HERE AGAIN, BUT THIS IS HIS FANTROLL BLOG. PRETTY MUCH THE SAME RULES APPLY HERE. HERE’S THE MAINS CARRD , WHICH CONTAINS ONE OF THE MANY FUCKERS WHO NOW INHABIT THIS BLOG - TOXIIN LACERT. THEY’RE THE FACE OF THE BLOG, IF YOU WERE WONDERING WHO THE TROLL IN THE PROFILE PICTURE WAS. THEY’RE THE TROLL IM CURRENTLY HYPERFIXATED ON.

AND NOW, AN OBLIGATORY LIST OF ALL MY TROLLS - ITS LONG. ALL TROLLS WILL BE TAGGED WITH THEIR FULL NAMES IN ART/MENTIONS.

ALSTER RADOVE:: he/him, burgundy, heir of life (arsces) ASZOLT XOLKUA:: they/he, mutant, prince of doom (taurmini) ALLICA CAPSIN::he/him, gold, maid of breath (gemun) CONILE MRANYA:: she/her, lime, mage of time (canries) XIUHRA GISLII:: he/him, olive, bard of blood (lecen) PHELTI TRYSTE:: they/aer, jade, rogue of time (virpio) PARAHY VIVERR:: she/her, teal, seer of void (libittanius) APISOS HONIYR:: she/they, cerulean, witch of rage* (scoricorn) XEERAH MUNETO:: xey/xem, indigo, knight of space (sagigo) TOXIIN LACERT:: it/they/he, cuspblood, heir of space (caprigo) OTHAMO OCULUS:: he/him, purple, thief of hope (capririus) NOIREN TRASMUT:: he/him, violet, page of heart (aqualo) ZECNYX JAKYRA:: they/them, fuchsia, sylph of mind (pira) DANCESTORS:: VALYAN:: he/him, alsters dancestor, ? of life TEOPRI:: he/him, allicas dancestor, rogue of hope SLYURI:: he/him, coniles dancestor, witch of light ATALOS:: he/him, xiuhras dancestor, sylph of blood TREPIT:: she/they, pheltis dancestor, mage of time OPTOME:: he/him, othamos dancestor, heir of breath TECNUL:: he/they, zecnyxs dancestor, prince of mind LUMRIT:: he/him, toxiins dancestor, ? of space ANCESTORS:: THE APOTHECARY:: he/him, alsters ancestor, ? of life THE PROTECTOR:: they/he, zecnyx ancestor, prince of mind THE PUPPETEER:: he/him, othamos ancestor, heir of hope THE LIBERATOR:: it/its, pheltis ancestor, maid of time *SUBJECTED TO CHANGE

[coldbloodedcreator]

Touch

a little gift for @luminescentlyricist ! i just... have some intense clown brainrot. also, excuse how jumbled and weird it might be at the end, I was passing out (still am) while writing it and im too excited to share it to revise much. fandom: homestuck (oc oriented) characters: othamo oculus (oc), jezakk imetat (friends oc) length: 1426 words pov: 3rd person (jezakk)

touch.

that was one way othamo would communicate with jezakk.

a pat at the shoulders to access where the smaller was, a grab at his arm to signal he needed help walking. he could be a bit rough but usually never meant to harm jezakk, told by the small apologizes that muttered from his lips. he could be verbally affectionate — but they were rarer than jezakk liked. he understood, though. being verbal about feelings was hard. jezakk couldn't get a single sentence out without his voice stuttering and cracking, no matter how hard he tried. he admired how flat his matesprit could keep his tone. sometimes he wondered if he could ask othamo how to control his voice - as othamo was one of the few troupe members who spoke with no rises in his voice at all, and spoke at a moderately quiet level compared to everyone else. but he doubted othamo would, or that it would work for long.

jezakk's internal dialogue was interrupted by a tight grip as his arm. claws dug into his flesh and jezakk had to quickly brief a glance towards his matesprit, before giving his vice gripped claws a gentle pat. "Uh," jezakk sort of grumbled low, to his best ability. he still held his claws over othamos, resisting the urge to try and pry them off. even if he tried, othamo would likely just grab on at a different section of his arm. "hEy.. cOUld yOU Uh... rElAx A lIttlE, Oth?" he sort of stammered. his eyes flickered back and forth from the emotionless grin on his matesprit's face to the near wall, his shoulders tense. luckily for him the claws relaxed and jezakk could feel the blood start to return to his arm. "i gEt yOUr nErvOUs-" othamo blunted overspoke jezakk, claws digging in once more. "im n⊙t nerv⊙us." he grunted. jezakk could hear othamo's breath hissing through his irregular, pin prick teeth, his smile much more open than his resting one. jezakk was near convinced that othamo grinned when he was nervous, and that othamo was a nervous wreck at all times. which wasn't rather farfetched from what jezakk had gathered from previous drops of othamo's cool facade, or the comments he made, but jezakk could hardly tell when othamo was being sincere or not. he couldn't even tell when othamo's rage was genuine. jezakk's eyes landed at the floor, where he could just barely see his foot tapping against the cold cement. he near became fully absorbed with his nervous leg bouncing before an idea sparked in the back of his mind. "hEy, I hAd An IdEA..." he could feel othamo's claws loosen more, before they eventually relaxed and let go. jezakk gingerly touched at where the claws had sunk in and left indents, feeling the small bumps. there was a few greasy smears of the oils from othamo's marionette strings that made jezakk briefly grimace. "what is it?" jezakk could've sworn that was more of a demand than a question. the way othamo's raspy voice spoke was a bit unnerving at times. othamo had told jezakk that when he was younger, he didn't start talking till he was around 6 or 7 sweeps old, which at first sounded somewhat ridiculous. but ... it did make some sense. "I wAs thInkIng.. AbOUt hOw yOU strUgglE wIth shOwIng AffEctIOn?" jezakk tried to word this in the kindess way possible. he could see othamo's eyebrow quirk out of the corner of his eyes. "whAt If I shOwEd yOU A wAy tO dO It wIthOUt wOrds?" "y⊙u mean asl?" for once his voice changed at the end, but went deeper instead of higher. it still registered as a questioning tone, but a grumpy one. "yEAh! wEll, Uh, nO, nOt cOmplEtEly, bEcAUsE.. yOU knOw," he gave a few vague hand movements, even though they'd go unnoticed. "yes. because im blind. i kn⊙w." it almost sounded like a sigh coming from him. jezakk frowned.

"AnywAys. wEll.. I knOw yOU lIkE drUmmIng yOUr fIngErs On stUff, sO mAybE sOmEthIng wIth thAt?" jezakk could see othamo's smile growing more forced, signalling a zone out on othamo's end. jezakk jabbed an elbow at othamo and he straighted up again. he gave no apology for his brief lack of consciousness, simply giving jezakk a smile. "... hOw dOEs thAt sOUnd?" "h⊙w d⊙es what s⊙und." jezakk sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. sometimes his matesprit was so goddamn stubborn. instead of making a mistake like last time where the question spiraled out of control, he just gave a small shake of his head. he reached his claws forward, placing them on othamo's shoulder gently. underneath the three different layers othamo tensed up at the touch. after a brief few seconds to let othamo's shoulders relax did jezakk drum his claws against his matesprit, giving a reassuring smile. "I lOvE yOU." jezakk said gently. he could feel othamo's blind gaze near bore through his skull. the taller's claws drifted forward, resting against jezakk's arm. he drums his fingers against it much gentler than expected, almost lost between the sweater fabric. this caused a wide smile to form on jezakk's face and a gentle flush fill his heart, and he lowered his hand. a few moments passed before othamo moved his hand to jezakk's face and drummed there as well. othamo's smile had visible softened. it was almost like his icy exterior melted away, revealing the personality that jezakk knew as his matesprit. othamo slowly crouched - trying to avoid popping his knees, as he understood the sound wasnt very desirable - and quickly after engulfed jezakk into a hug. he pulled jezakk close as a loud purr begun to rumble from deep within his chest and he nuzzled his face against jezakk's shoulder. his claws drummed rhythmically against jezakk's back, over and over, as he gave the tinkerer a squeeze. jezakk was rather surprised, but also quite elated, at the sudden affection. his cheeks turned lilac as he wrapped his arms around his matesprit, placing his chin on othamo's shoulder. his own claws gently rolled against othamo’s back, able to feel the scutes that decorated the spine of the puppeteers spine. it was a nice feeling. a few minutes pass, and they depart from their embrace. othamo remained crouched for a little bit, simply facing jezakk. the smaller purpleblood didn't move, as othamo still his claws on his shoulders.

"hey jazzy." "hm?" he blinked, tilting his head as a force of habit. "want t⊙ kn⊙w s⊙mething?" othamo asked, grin still present. jezakk lets out a soft chuckle. "sUrE, whAt Is It?" "when i think ⊙f y⊙u, i d⊙nt try t⊙ imagine the bits and pieces put t⊙gether ⊙f what y⊙u might l◎‿◉k like. i think ⊙f the stars. ⊙r at least my mem⊙ries ⊙f them. i used t⊙ marvel at the night sky, enam⊙red by them. they were s⊙ beautiful. y⊙u remind me ⊙f th⊙se stars, jazzy. s⊙ bright, interw⊙ven int⊙ the cl⊙uds ⊙f stardust."

a long pause came from jezakk. he stared at othamo, unable to find words. eventually he found a smile and another giggle leaves his lips. "Oth... thAts sO swEEt. I dIdn't knOw yOU wErE A rOmAntIc." othamo gives a playful nudge, leaning back onto his heels. "d⊙n't get t◎‿◉ c⊙cky ab⊙ut it, ⊙r else i w⊙nt tell y⊙u my pent up l⊙ve p⊙ems at all." othamo holds a genuine smile though, shoulders lax. he leaned forward and gently pressed his cold nose against jezakk's before giving the tinkerer a drum on the shoulders, and then standing straight. his previous fears seemed to have long since left him, his matesprit bringing his mood up significantly. othamo's smile can only widen more as another troll pops into jezakk's practice tent - where the two trolls currently were. he could hear the troll mutter something about "i knew id find you here" before informing the puppeteer his show was to begin soon, and othamo gives a simple nod. he looked to jezakk's direction once more before leaning down to place an affectionate kiss on jezakk's forehead, murmuring a few soft words and then making his way out. he paused at the entrance of the tent, glancing back again. he reached to the nearby beam and gave it a drum, smile perked. and then he leaves, vanishing into the bright big top to preform. jezakk could only watch, grin soft and his heart still beating firmly in his chest.

othamo could communicate verbally with jezakk, too. and boy does he love when he did.

[spamtonromantic]

monthly appreciation for my rat bastard son, pre-blindness addition

[spamtonromantic]

monthly drawing of othamo in celebration of this lovely thing

[spamtonromantic]

every now and then i get reminded to how ugly othamos sprite is

[spamtonromantic]

purpleblood on my dash @ohsopointlessskeletonhats

[spamtonromantic]

[carnevul]

othamo stop pissing your drug dealer off challenge

[carnevul]

the  saga of phelti

[spamtonromantic]

the reason why i refuse to make a mspfa: if literally anyone but me found this rat attractive i would shit my pants

I ACCIDENTALLY MADE MY OC REALLY HOT BUT IN LIKE.. A RAT BASTARD VILLAIN WAY

HELP

[coldbloodedcreator]

New Gear

luminescentlyricist asked: othamo and jezakk first meeting, please :o)zzz alright, i cant argue with that. i love writing about our clowns :o)8 fandom: homestuck (oc oriented) characters: othamo oculus (oc), jezakk imetat (friends oc) length: 900 words (short) pov: 3rd person (othamo)

YOUR NAME IS OTHAMO OCULUS. and it is another grueling day at the circus.

well, maybe he was being too harsh about it.

the past few days in the troupe had been rather uneventful, the acts played quite typical per usual. othamo had canceled his act for the week because it simply didn’t live up to his expectations when he was practicing for it — as much as the ringmaster would disapprove. othamo was stubborn with his acts — if they weren’t perfect when practice, they weren’t fit to be seen. and the puppeteer's blindness made the room for errors in his acts even thinner.

there was a buzz going about the troupe today that there was someone new ‘visiting.‘ othamo knew what this meant.

 the ringmaster - or the mordant king, albeit othamo refused to call him that — had roped another troll into the circus via his unethical tactics. most, if not all the members of the circus here joined the same way this recruit would, although othamo and a troll he caught himself were spared of this tactic. 

oh well, their loss. if they managed to get pulled in, it was their own fault.

othamo was rather intently focused on the dull clicks of his claws against a glass jar. coarse marionette strings laid clumped inside the bottle and he gently yanked at them as he pulled a few free. crossing the thread over his claws he began to tie the strings to each finger slowly, a low hum leaving his lips as the familiar feeling brought a toothy grin to his face. oh, how he loved to puppeteer. how a simple twitch of the claws could bring life to a marionette, allow it to tell its own story. the sound of their wooden joints clicking together instinctively filled his ears and brought a flushed feeling of ease to othamo. 

lost in thought, the purple blood blundered into another body. a loud crash as his jar of strings fell to the floor, shattering into a hundred little shards that othamo would likely find later dug into his shoe heels. he hadn’t even realized he had been moving in the first place and only furthered his confusion as he jerked back, and a low growl bubbled up from his throat as he harshly breathed in the scent of the other. 

the smell that filled the blind troll's nose was nowhere near familiar. this only brought his lips back further, gleaming sharp teeth becoming visible like some feral cat. if he had any fur, it would be pricked with anger.

“wh⊙ are y⊙u?“ othamo spat. mingled within the sharp scent of the stranger othamo could pick up the faint, bittersweet smell of their purple blood, but this did not quell his anger. but the follow-up tang that followed caused othamo’s smile to crack at the edges, going further than it naturally should. this was a smell he liked. the smell of fear. 

“uHm-“ they stuttered, fumbling with their words. their shoes scuffled against the cold floor as othamo advanced towards them, his impatient thin. he backed them into a corner - or at least, he thought so, as they stopped moving - and leaned closer to their face. 

the citrus-y smell of fear wafted off their face in volumes. nervous mumbling came from them as they fought to form a sentence, othamo’s looming figure catching them off guard. 

“I - am THe neW RecRUiT... jeZAkK. jeZAKK IMEtat.“ they finally managed through their breaths. this brought a low snicker from othamo.

 "⊙h~" othamo leaned back. his spine popped as he straightened, the hostility seeming to vanish from his face. he quirked a brow. "is that s⊙? my deepest ap◎l◉gizes then." a few beats of silence passed before he let out a small snort. "n⊙t. I d⊙nt care if we're the same bl◎‿◉d — kn⊙w y⊙ur place, newbie. y⊙u are inferi⊙r t⊙ the likes ⊙f me." othamo snarled, jerking forward and causing the other troll to flinch backward in fear. his smile grew sinister as he then slowly rose once more, body creaking, and popped the collar of his cape out again. "im n⊙t exactly f⊙nd ⊙f grubs interrupting me. d⊙ y⊙u have any excuse f⊙r h⊙w rudely y⊙u destr⊙yed my mari⊙nette string jar?" othamo asked, clasping his claws together. he swiftly realized that he didn’t have all of his strings tied on due to the run-in, and his claws clenched together tightly. silence rose from jezakk.

“i.. uhM.. No? i diDn't meAN tO, i swEar-“ othamo claws dig into jezakk’s cheek. he firmly clutched the side of the smaller troll's face, grin growing. his jaw lets out a crack as if he was preparing to unhinge his mouth and bite jezakk’s face off. 

“then y⊙u ⊙we me~“ his claws dragged underneath jezakk’s chin, the sharp nails just barely avoiding nicking the soft flesh. a low rumble came from othamo’s chest as he purred, although this purr was not pleased. he slowly draws his hand away as purple rippled into his lifeless eyes. vision poured into othamo’s eyes as his chucklevoodoos latched onto jezakk, othamo’s face visible once more to him through jezakk’s eyes. he clasps his claws together excitedly as he lets out a low chuckle, straightening up once more. he then released them to reach out for jezakk to grab hold of his shoulder.

“let’s get g⊙ing then, shall we?“