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obliviouskind · 2 years

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I am remaking this blog, as well as @obliviouskind, which should launch semi-complete sometime this week. I’m going to keep it on the low, private and selective - a re-kindling of sorts for my love of writing. It feels lost here, theres too many footprints in the sand and I just need a fresh start.

I hope to bring some of you with me on this new chapter but, until then:

#last post

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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I’m taking a hiatus from here and @littlesilverplatinum. My writing muse is very much lost and has been for quite some time - though hopefully not forever. Theres a lot I still wish to explore and do but, well. Maybe thats for the future rather than now.

#night reblog

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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I’m taking a hiatus from here and @littlesilverplatinum. My writing muse is very much lost and has been for quite some time - though hopefully not forever. Theres a lot I still wish to explore and do but, well. Maybe thats for the future rather than now.

#(ooc - mun)

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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“It had been the nurse who had suggested the lake. A foreigner that had arrived to the town just a winter prior, but whom had been welcomed into the community as though she’d come from their blood. Marnie, she was called...”

#(ooc - mun)#(mun pretends he can art)#the npc that didnt stay an npc #ive wanted to jut down a proper 'reference'#even tho its not a reference as i intended it to be #for her #also tested a new way of coloring and idk how i feel about it yet tbh #just imagine shesin a longhouse late at night and theres a bunch of drunk burly men around her #thats the vibe for this pfft

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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Oil painting by Lizz Lopez

This artist on Instagram // BigCartel

#Those Beyond - Ä #i havent really been inna writing mood as of late #chipping away at stuff here and there tho but things are Slow going

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒.

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Italicize what your muse likes. Bold what they love. Strike through what they hate.

tagged by: @15-44 eyoo tagging: @kyohansha (whichever one you feel) @pulchramundii

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𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄.

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇.

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓.

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

#(ic - muse)#games #this was fuuun #learned some new food stuff that im horrified at but still #i guess left untouched is like #he has no real opinion on it bad or good

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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＞Can I ask for a painting of Cyrus (アカギ様) holding a Shaymin (シェイミ) please?

かきましたリクエストありがとうございました

#A Future Stolen - Self #i am sick and dying atm #send help #sobs

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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if you were a deity, what would you be the god of?

Damian Nechayev

winter and death

you’re known for your self-discipline and rigidity. although you may be perceived as cold and intimidating by those who don’t directly worship you, you’re actually quite fair and polite. your followers pray to you for a safe winter and peaceful death.

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Cyrus Akagi - aka Galactic Era

warfare and strategy

prideful and ambitious, your followers come to you for guidance and luck in battles they feel are too much for them. you embody the bravery and bloodlust of warfare and the battle intelligence for strategy and leadership. Your patience tends to thin around those who don’t respect you or question your intelligence and strength.

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Stolen from: @thricemarked Tagging: @deusvocat @15-44 and @pulchramundii

#(ic - muse)#games #i think these are pretty fitting tbh #fun quiz yes yes

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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we were all small once

#(ooc - mun)#maker #baby #not really probably like 12?

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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Character Design Commission for @deusvocat! Thank you so much for entrusting me with drawing your post-verse Volo <3 I had a lot of fun with him.

#(ooc - mun)#(mun pretends he can art)#deusvocat #volo... my beloved #we stan simones take on him #also just thank you in general for helping me out financially ahhh

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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LOOK WE’RE SORRY KID — BUT YOU’LL NEVER GET YOUR OLD LIFE BACK.

15-44! indie, semi-selective, mutuals only GAVNER PURL of the saga of darren shan / cirque du freak. crossover, oc, fandomless friendly. penned by cresselia, 20.

#promo #cress cress cress cress #listen this stinky vampire?#love him #adore him #10/10 #10/10 writing too bless

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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//I’m taking on commissions, so my activity here may be slower than usual. Feel free to add me on discord (found within my Mun tab) if you wish to reach out as I may not be available here too often.

#(ooc - mun)#not a hiatus by any means just Slow #if i get replies or starters anything like that ill try and get to them in my downtime #writings a wonderful break between art lol #but i need… money…..

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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🐻

#welp

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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reblog this and make a post with 🐻 to let your mutuals comment nice things about you and/or your portrayal on!

#games #nervously presents this #as well as the post that comes after

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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The Wielding of Beasts

I have made brief mentions of this in the past, be it in other headcanon related posts or within actual threads – but Cyrus has never, ever, caught or trained a single Pokémon in his life. Due to my funky timeline and setting compared to, I’d say, the general rpc – battling as we see it in the games is actually quite new in terms of Sinnoh’s culture. It also isn’t something that most children tend to go for, nor is it encouraged. The matter that children like Hikari, Lukas and Barry begun their journeys had more to do with the area that they grew up within and the connections that they had with the Professor, rather than a widespread ethos of battling – one that is growing, of course, with the influence of icons such as Cynthia and Vasa, the champion whose seat she overtook.

Owning Pokémon isn’t as frowned upon as it used to be, but one usually does it for the sake of having a family pet, or select species meant to be used for work. (Mining and construction being the most common.)

Cyrus grew up wealthy, in a metropolis with little wildlife to interfere with daily life. The idea of wielding Pokémon in any combative sense never entered his field of influence in his youth; if he was in contact with animals, it would usually be domesticated species of regulated sorts – those allowed to be kept, rather than those deemed dangerous. Of course, like most young children, he may have wished for a family pet – but the Akagi family never took it upon them to listen to his pleas (nothing unusual, really). His most intimate interaction with wildlife was that of domesticated Starly young. Kept by the church in an aviary as a reminder of practices from long past, now banned; he beheaded them one after another for quite some time at the request of his youth pastor, Father Orlov, before they were stopped and punished for their actions.

It wasn’t until later in life that he once more brushed his fingers over animal coats.

It had never been his idea to use Pokémon for the purposes of Galactic. At the very least, not in the sense of battling – but Jupiter, with the encouragement of Saturn once the boy was put on the team, deemed it a necessary action to secure the stability of their group. Something that he, in the moment, had agreed to – with the request that he be left out of the details. It was their task, later Saturn’s, and little else was said until the day he was presented with his very own proto-team.

“For your safety,” he had been told, a claim of which he’d answered with a raised brow and puzzled look. “There’s a lot more eyes looking out way these days, and your anonymity is bound to be lost sooner rather than later.”

He took on the weight of mechanical shells and living beasts and was taught the basics of wielding such beings, but with the hopefulness of never having to truly do so. Hikari was, and still is, the only person of which Cyrus ever battled. For she was the only one to ever challenge him.

Cyrus was never, and will never be, a trainer. He never formed attachments to his Pokémon – Houndoom was the only one, the one he spent the most time with as a sort of precaution (a guard dog more so than anything else, played off as a simple pet until the day that he wasn’t) nor did he, again, ever actually train a single one of them. He knew what their abilities were, he knew the right things to say – but little else.

If he were to have battled someone and beat them, then it would’ve been purely out of the ferocity of his beasts and their desire to keep him safe rather than him actually besting you with skill.

It was never his trade to master, and so he didn’t.

#(ooc - mun)#hc #reblogging bc its something i wanted to adress for a Long time

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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﹘ HC + medication

SEND A WORD

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Early death and sickness is a fairly common problem in the Akagi family; one that has seen to target the men of the family more often than not. Cyrus, however, is still young – though his appearance sets him beyond his given years, he’s physically fit and have no ailments in need of medical attention or treatment. (His father back home is slowly growing more and more sickly with age. He’s at the age where his own father passed after having experienced repeated strokes – something that he, now, is beginning to go through as well. This is, however, something that Cyrus doesn’t know, and won’t be aware of for quite some time still.) But, he did meet a relative who had ailments. Charon was a man Cyrus only learned of in boyhood due to a televised appearance that the man had made where, quite unexpectedly, he threw a fit and never quite recovered from the public condemning. A researcher charged with unlawful experimentation, it’s no surprise that his title was stripped from him shortly thereafter – even if it didn’t, in any significant way, put a stop to his nefarious ways. When they met, it was by chance, and the matter that Cyrus was in need of capable hands was perhaps but divine fate.

Charon’s around fifty by the time he becomes Galactic’s head researcher, and ends his reign within its ranks at around fifty-two. At first, Cyrus wasn’t aware of his great uncles physical illness – but he quickly learned why the old man’s joints easily swelled, grew sore or stiffened to the point where he, at times, couldn’t be stay standing for more than a few minutes. Rheumatoid arthritis was the cause of Charon’s pain, a degenerative illnesses of which had begun to show itself in his late forty’s and only grew more troublesome as time went on. Stubborn as he was, however, the offers for treatment often went ignored – “I’m no frail old man, boy. Mind your own damn business and get out of the little hair I have left.” – though Cyrus came to learn that there was little one could truly do for such an illness aside from slowing its progress.

Eventually, painkillers were accepted, and I suppose that was as close as Cyrus has gotten to someone that was in need of medication. That he knew of, of course.

(He always felt quite taken by Charon, despite his faults. He was the sole family member who he actually got to know outside of his parents, after all.)

#(ooc - mun)#hc #answered #thricemarked #bless u for these questions tbh very kind that you sent them #even if its taken me time to answer #cyrus will suffer strokes much earlier than his father but as of right now? hes healthy #so i indulged my recent thought a little and poked the bear known as charon

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obliviouskind · 2 years

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Fairytale

15-44:

Whatever reasons Marnie had for being in Lomma, Gavner wouldn’t question her further. He was curious, just as he had been when he was only ten, and even the passing of a century couldn’t dull that - but now, he knew better than to pry, sitting quietly as she removed her sandals and allowed herself to step into the frigid stream.

He didn’t move to join her in the water, instead staying seated on dry land, listening with fascination on his face - along with a tinge of worry in his mind. As she had spoken of what Lomma’s people believed in - superstitions which they believed with their whole heart - Gavner idly rubbed his thumb over the long scar on the right side of his face.

( It was superstition and fear which had granted him the matching scars on his cheeks. Inflicted upon him by a group of men who had been hunting him, fuelled by their false beliefs as to Gavner’s nature, they are marks for that tight brotherhood of hunters to identify him by. )

The issue with those who are superstitious, is that they are often fearful.

They fear anything out of the ordinary, spinning stories and tales to justify their feelings. When they’re exposed to what they’re afraid of, they believe the stories they’ve told themselves, and they become nothing more than panicked animals. Self-preservation instincts kick in, and you cannot negotiate with a mind which sees you as a demon.

You can explain yourself to a human, but when a human is stricken with panic, they lose their humanity and cease to be what they were.

( It was the panicked who drove Gavner from Postwick, from Motostoke, from Vaniville, from Lumiose… )

Lomma, as fascinating as it sounds to him, seems as if it’s filled with the same crowd.

At least Marnie didn’t appear to believe in such tales.

Of the things she told Gavner, he had only ever heard fairytales of trolls. He hadn’t heard of Orthism, nor of a horse who drowns its rider. He supposed he believed in deities, for his kind have beliefs in their own gods, but beyond that…

“I don’t believe in those sorts of tales, no.” Gavner replied simply, though maybe it was a bit foolish for a vampire to be so quickly dismissive of tales of other creatures. “But I’m sure their beliefs have basis in something real.”

In all tales, there is a seed of truth. While the stories that humans tell of the vampiric are exaggerated, they still have their origins in fact, even if they had been twisted and morphed far beyond the truth. They are beings of the night, repelled by the sun, who feed from the very humans that they hide among - humans simply added on until their tales barely resembled reality.

“I think, when people are scared by things that they don’t understand,” Gavner’s eyes fell somewhat somber for a moment, as he looked down at the scars on his fingers. “They create stories to explain that fear, until those stories become what they truly believe.”

After all, that is what happened with his kind. That is what happened with him.

Maybe there were other unnatural, inhuman beings within Lomma, whom these tales were based on. Maybe these stories, too, had been twisted and exaggerated, taken as truth due to fear of the unknown. Part of Gavner wanted to find out for himself, his curiosity having worked its fingers deep within his mind, itching for him to discover the origins of these myths…

But he knew how dangerous that would be for him. Should he spend time in that remote village - in an entirely unfamiliar land, filled with fearful souls - it would only be a matter of time before he was exposed. He supposed that even his nails, sharp and unnatural as they were, unable to be trimmed to resemble anything normal, could be enough to raise suspicion from such a paranoid crowd. Even if they didn’t know what he was, it wouldn’t be a reach for them to claim that they were signs of a demon, a shape-shifter, a trickster spirit…

Of something evil, which needed to be eradicated.

“And if there’s no basis…” The friendly look in Gavner’s eyes returned as he looked back up to Marnie, his fingertips returning to idly playing with the grass, his palm brushing over a small weed hidden among the blades. “Then their tales are a good way to keep themselves from getting into danger, at least.”

-“I don’t believe in those sorts of tales, no.”-

-Marnie had said something similar the first week that she’d spent within Lomma’s staked walls. Younger than she was now and in a time where, perhaps, wonder had begun to be lost within her eyes; she’d met with Damian in hopes of earning lodging for a few odd nights. Just like for many other wanderers before her, Lomma had been entirely unknown – but a speck within the wilderness surrounded by mountainous terrain. Natural boarders and walls, just as well as manmade. It had been cold, late winter before the lakes would even begin to thaw. But Damian had been warm when he’d taken her clothed palm.

‘You’re an outsider,’ he’d told her, as clearly as one could. You’re not one of us. ‘But… You expertise, your trade. We lack capable hands.’

Damian had been but a child himself when they first met. A boy amongst men but with the responsibility of ten or more. She’d taken his offer without much bargaining or fuzz – a home to call her own, she’d asked for, and she’d make it her clinic for the time that she spent upon their land. Once all was said and done, in halls carved from wood and stone; she’d been asked to see to her first patient. A little girl. His daughter in name alone. Marnie gazed down upon the water of which surrounded her pale, bare ankles. The ghost sensation of touch and her toes, carefully, flexed within its depths and disturbed the gravel laid floor.

Kari had been ridden by excruciating fever, her frail body too young to fight it off on her own. In winter, with little light and access to herbs and medicine; she’d been out for almost a week and had only gotten worse since it all began. But what had perplexed Marnie most hadn’t been the girl’s sickness. No. But rather, the words of which her father had hissed beyond her shoulder.

‘A mara.’ He’d sounded his age, then. Boyish and afraid. ‘A mara has taken her and won’t rid itself from her until she’s gone.’-

-“But I’m sure their beliefs have basis in something real.”-

-She hadn’t known what that word had meant, this ‘mara’ that he so frightfully spoke of. When he’d told her, she’d offered her honest opinion. That the girl was simply sick, like so many other children in Hisui who died well before their fifth birthday – and that no such creature truly existed. He hadn’t challenged her, then, and never truly would. Hadn’t said a word more of it after that. But he’d grasped his daughter’s warm palms within his own and begged for her to leave them be now that all was done.

And Marnie had left to return another day.-

“Real or not to us,” she offered, the gathering of her wear spilling down into the water below as she bent at her waist. Her fingers danced over the water’s surface in memory.- “I must admit to having seen things that have made me wonder…”

-A mara was sometimes said to be a human spirit, though it did not necessarily have to take a human form when it haunted people at night. It could appear as a cat, a dog, monkey or mouse, a feather or even a ball of yarn. When Marnie had returned to the Nazarov’s home the next evening, she’d been met by a sight that she’d never forget. Past Kari’s ajar bedroom door, dimply lit and cast within candlelight; Marnie had seen it. A black, looming mass sat high upon the little girls breast. Her breathing, labored and slow. Tortured. To this day, she still didn’t know what it had been. Never before had she seen a creature shaped quite like it – a blur within reality as though she’d never been meant to see it. Still, she had entered the room and almost fallen over as a rush of nausea had overcome her – and when she’d looked back to where Kari slept, the mass was gone.

Kari recovered a day later.-

-Cool water spilled over her features. Even at night, the heat was scorching and perhaps the medic could’ve spent the rest of her evening right there. Endlessly washing her face until her skin rubbed off raw. But her previous theory stood true – what it would bring her was but momentary relief followed by eventual sickness. She could already feel her feet grow numb. Casting a glance towards her company of the night – ah, she hadn’t had that for quite some time now had she? – Marnie wondered if Gavner would’ve believed her story if she’d told him. Or if, perhaps, he’d lay claim to the fact that she too had come to grow fearful.

The grass of the bank felt soft as she finally left the cold sea. Slippery and wet.-

“… You know, even without its unique superstitions, Lomma’s a place unlike any other that I’ve seen in Hisui.”-A smile tugged at the fishing lines of her lips, then. Haunting memories or not, that village had left an impression upon Marnie in more ways than one. Frightful and unusual though its people may be, with the fearing of beasts and religious dreams; the people there were some of the kindest Marnie had ever met. The most welcoming, despite their isolated ways.-

“It’s my home away from home.”

#(ic - Guest)#Lomma - Au #Fairytale - 1544 #rp #1544 #rip the tags i wrote when i first tried to post this #hOPE theres enough to answer to bc most of it is in her head oop

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