#iron heart rp

[nextlevel-hq]

The following characters are now reserved for 48 hours

Bucky Barnes (7/18)

Riri Williams (7/18)

See the full reserved list here.

#bucky barnes rp #riri williams rp #winter soldier rp #marvel rp #marvel rpg #dc rp #dc rpg #fandom rp #fandom rpg #marvel roleplay #mcu rp #dceu rp #mcu rpg #dceu rpg #nl:reserved #captain america rp #iron heart rp #iron man rp #black panther rp #tfaws rp

[stella-sanguis]

plotted starter for @iron-hearts-ablaze

" I...could I speak with you for a moment? " Astarion is nervous as he approaches Karlach's tent, all of his usual swagger and bravado absent. " I...wanted to thank you -- for helping me kill that devil. I know you didn't approve of me making a deal with Raphael, but you helped me anyway. So...thank you -- truly. " There's something else, something more as he shifts nervously on his feet before the tiefling.

EVER since Dammon had temporarily fixed Karlach's engine, he'd been expecting the question of sex to come up. The poor girl hadn't been touched in over a decade, and with...whatever this relationship was between them, Astarion was the clear choice for a partner. If it had been weeks ago, back at that night in the grove, he would've pounced at the opportunity, using it as a chance to manipulate Karlach into protecting him. But now -- now that things between them were real, now that he was quite certain he had screwed up and fallen for the fiery tiefling...it was a bit more complicated.

" WAS...there something you wanted in return? " The vampire is hesitant as he asks the question, almost as if he is bracing himself for her answer. Though Karlach had proven herself a steadfast friend and companion to him time and time again, experience had taught Astarion one hard truth: people only helped you for something in return. And hadn't this been what their relationship had been leading to all along? Why else would she have stuck alongside him all this time? Why else would she have helped him, if not to gain sexual favors after a decade of celibacy? He would be stupid to think anything otherwise.

#:: ahhhh I hope this is ok!! :: #our fiery friend :: karlach #hellspawn :: karlachxastarion #danse macabre :: rp #iron-hearts-ablaze #verse :: taste of freedom

[tired-space-crow]

So…I started reading Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle back in high school, right? Then I fell off for almost a decade, and then a couple weeks ago decided to start over from the beginning.

Y’all, I finally finished the whole series, and it’s very pretty to look at and sure made me feel things—but I’m also in a fugue of trying to understand whatever the heck was going on in the whole second half of it all.

#tsubasa reservoir chronicle #the manga that made me have second thoughts about trying to write a time loop story #time-space problems make my head hurt #but weirdly enough it also vibes with my good old Kingdom Hearts forum RP days ya feel me? #which feels ironically appropriate bc now I’m almost as confused about Kingdom Hearts’ story #space birb talks

[gamblingrimsley]

☠🌏– Rika happily offers the man a plate of lentejas with a spoon and a piece of freshly baked bread on the side. "¿Quieres?"¹

¹Want some?

// instinct to feed others activated一

[ ...Oh dear. ]

[ ...When was, the last time he received a home-cooked meal anyway? ]

[ ...And goodness, does this type of food feel nothing short of nostalgic... ]

"S... Si yo quiero por fa...~"

[ It's strange, his accent isn't exactly Paldean, but the way the words roll off of his tongue sounds surprisingly natural nonetheless. It's definitely from a different region that is fluent in the language, mixed with a hint of a Unovan accent at the end. Surprisingly, Grimsley's gaze seems like it has considerably softened. ]

#// Something something “way to a man's heart is through his stomach” *coughs* #// I was thinking about responding with some art but ironically enough I just ate food and now I'm too full to draw sjsjsj #♠︎ 𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓻 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰. - ic & rp ♠︎ #tierra-paldeana #tw food

[sapphia]

limited life was the best roleplay series for me by far. everyone was just so good at playing into people's bits. the improvised nature of it made it so fun, and barring the odd moment, it truly didn't feel like people were starting much drama for drama's sake.

the best of the rp was fairly spontaneous--scar didn't go into a series planning to become cleo's favourite son, but they just had such a good time being around each other and leaned into the dynamic and extrapolated their rp from how they were around each other. and it really payed off. i'm sooo glad cleo embraced it even though she was reluctant at first. i love how scar and bdubs supported her into her own amazing interpretation of arguably a not-so-fun role. i'm stunned at how into the rp etho got. he absolutely suffered for this rp and it was incredible. all those deaths. his destroyed reputation! but it worked so well.

and the bad boys! sure, joel came in with his predetermined character, but his flexibility in bringing people onto his team, into incorporating jimmy and grian and even offering to rename the bit for pearl if she'd joined--that was what really allowed it to be good. leaning into the ironic bad boys who aren't actually bad (at anything but minecraft) was delightful. bread bridge was wonderful. seeing all the players just get to be so very themselves and enjoy themselves and work as a team while having so much fun with the rp aspect made this team so good.

i loved that we didn't get solo players this season, that martyn and scott teamed up even when they didn't interact much in episode one. coral kids and TIES really felt like everyone was playing not just with their friends, but with the people who played the game in the same way they did. i can't put my finger on what made martyn and scott a good fit together but they are, and ties were the perfect little "nerds" (as scar called them) with so much heart, while etho still got to do his weird thing with bdubs and roleplay with the clockers. and the tension between all these groups! scott and cleo's hard alliance and the rest of the clockers just following along because mom. ties animosity with the clockers despite whatever it was etho was doing. they just let bdubs tag along for the day! etho had a take his kids to work day and it was hilarious! and martyn sticking to scott but also kinda being sketchy in the background with everyone, showing a pleasant face but clearly not being quite as invested in all the relationships as everyone else, which then played into the ending where he betrayed his partner in the series where team bonds were never broken--

and while i wish pearl and bigb had got to be a bit more involved in the storylines and they were a little sidelined from some of the best action, by god they played their nosey neighbour role well. the tension with the clockers, the feud with jimmy, stealing the enchanting table, finding themselves so isolated and alone because they're just neighbours and they built a wall between them and the server. perfection.

so yeah. loved how everyone was enjoying themselves. loved how rp got to flourish in the peaceful periods and how the high death limit played into the drama. loved that everyone mostly just went with the flow and the narratives became so fun because of it. *chefs kiss*

#limited life #limited life smp #life series smp #life series #bad boys #clockers #t.i.e.s #coral kids #nosy neighbors #pearlescent moon #bigbstatz #martyn inthelittlewood #scott smajor #grian #joel smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity #goodtimeswithscar #zombiecleo #bdouble100 #impulse sv #skizzleman #ethoslab #tangotek

[gayometer]

They can be redeemed

Request by @kitty-chan33

Goes as follows: My request is for the human side of Record of Ragnarok they have a new fighter who is the anti Christ ( a half human demon, who forgive humanity for killing her human mother and what's more she still have hope that they can be redeemed l, ironic that they are a child of the devil ) Is this request okay??

Okay! Before I forget she is a total sweet heart yet can be very scary when fighting as she did killed few minor gods before meeting them, and she's the youngest member of the team

Fem! Reader and platonic

QIN who took one look at you then looked back at Brünhilde like "I want that one as a child". He wasn't surprised to hear you killed a few minor god he supports violence was pretty sure you had a reason " she was in a silly mood your honor ", Qin adores how you're pretty much a two sided coin. On one side you're the sweetest being he could ever ask for, and on the flip side you're a little ball of murder.

SASAKI who mostly likes goofing around with you, you're like a niece he didn't have. You're interested in his odd stories and that's more then enough for him. Sasaki understands being nice but having a backbone to defend yourself, he's like that as well.

TESLA who thinks you're from another universe, we all know he doesn't believe in magic. But he thinks you're a guardian from another universe. He adores info dumping on you about the "evolution of humanity" no matter if you understand it or not. He adores your sweet persona and how even if you're the nicest person known to man you don't let anyone step over you. We wasn't surprised when he heard you killed minor god on you or way to the human side, they were in your way and being insulting and disrespectful, looking down on you for having a human mother. He's not a supporter of violence..unless-

JACK who finds you amusing, you think humanity can be redeemed? Even with a monsters like him in the shadows? Now that's amusing! Jack still treats you like a lady, he's by no means used to being treated with such kindness and thus sometimes appears to be awkward. He can tell you have no ill intentions, your color is one of his favorites.

RAIDEN who cheers on when you fight, he loves strong women, both romantically and platonically, if Thrud is his love then you're his unofficial daughter, he adores that you're a sweetheart that can pack a punch if needed. He's an enabler for both good and bad stuff, so kinda trust him. You'll be fine..in some cases.

OKITA who's your enabler for violence, we ALL saw how blood thirsty he is. Okita doesn't really care, you're his fighting buddy and was smiling ear to ear when he heard you killed some minor gods, they were bad gods no? Then it's fine, they didn't need to live anyways.

ADAM who also finds you amusing and somewhat ironic, I mean...a devil child and redemption? But he knows to not judge a book by its cover, he still finds it funny though. He also finds ironic that the "half daughter of the devil" is the kinder then any "benevolent" god in that audience.

LU BU who is now acts as your semi defender, he takes "she was in a silly mood" to the max. Lu Bu is violent by mature and very much judges a book by its cover, he saw how sweet you were and decided you were weak. And then you murked a few minor gods because "I don't like how they talk". He feels neutral about the whole " I believe humans can be redeemed".

LEONIDAS who's another violence enabler, he's the spartan king what do you expect? Leonidas says you would've been a "great spartan" and adores your kind little self. He lifted you in the air and cheered when he heard about you killing off random insignificant gods.

I haven't posted in literal months I think-

Tbh I've had severe writer's block and I've also been vibing in my bird brain Urogi rp account, bird brain is my hyper fixation now along with demon slayer.

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #ror #snv #record of ragnarok x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader

[randaccidents]

Good god the rp Im playing Host in rn. Peak characterization fun.

One interesting thing that came out is that. Ironically. Host HATES facing an actually cold and unfeeling and logical Mind. Because of Mind that logical won't fall for his fear tactics and manipulation. And based on some of his snide comments he's also getting annoyed at how weak Heart (Heartless AU and currently concussed) is acting.

Host is so double standards about this. He expects them to play their roles but ALSO expects them to bow to him despite those roles. Its such a fun little thing to notice about him.

#rambles #Lie of Concord AU #Lie of Concord stuff #rp is the funnest way to characterize your blots #its SO INTERESTING how he dislikes the lack of fear and control

[soundlessroom]

Some Karlach-love (Requested on my RP Blog) x - Kiss chart used for requests @infernaliscor @iron-hearts-ablaze

Ceres hangs with her tail over something for the spiderman kiss!

Guess who forget to have higher DPI on one of the pictures?

#karlach #ceres #tae #bg3 #my art #hellchaos #I think I go with hellchaos #watch em go addicted to the strength potion to princess carry karlach

[finishing-touch]

And also top 5 DRK swords

[ put “top 5” anything in my ask ]

Had to have a long think about this. Great question btw. Here they are in no particular order of preference:

Seeing Horde Guillotine - Do you like Soul Calibur? You should.

Ravel Keeper's Guillotine - bootleg buster sword for all your discount Cloud cosplay needs. Why Yoshi-P hasn't given us a SOLDIER uniform or the original sword yet keeps me up at night.

Guts' Dragonslayer Shadowbringer - Guys only want one thing, and it's disgusting and it's a big ol honkin' Berserk reference!

Abyssos Guillotine - This one feels like an evolution of Aladar's original sword- the final product you get at the end of a fully upgraded schematic. This weapon holds a special place in my heart because of the months I spent progging Abyssos- and this weapon is my trophy to show for it.

Flame Officer's Claymore - Pure bias but I like to believe this one is synonymous with my character. It's a rather simple design by FF standards and I like that best about it. Shaped like an executioner's sword, this blade has been on a whole RP journey at Aladar's back. This slab of iron and steel has been through so much wear and tear and abuse that it's practically a separate character. I'm hoping it gets a texture update in Dawntrail.

#|| Prompts #FFXIV #FF14 #man I wasn't planning on doing gifs for an ask but here we are #where the fuck did my evening go

[dreamskug]

Dreamskug, 31. Mainly a Cyberpunk 2077 blog.

Also reblogging: art, cyberpunk aesthetic, sci-fi, spooky & witchy stuff, dystopia, nature, cats and dilfs. Feel free to shoot me an ask/DM or tag me in some game. This blog is sometimes NSFW - I thirst a lot in tags, lmao (so pls do not interact if you're a minor).

I do both virtual photography and 3D-renders, also gifs, check these tags:

IN-GAME PHOTOGRAPHY ✦ RENDERS ✦ GIFS ✦ EVERYTHING

✦ VP tools: ReShade (I don't have presets, everything is set up for each shot individually), Otis tools (and Cyberlit), Photoshop & Lightroom for post-editing.

✦ 3D-Rendering tools: Blender, Photoshop & Lightroom for post-editing.

I don't use AI - everything is hotsampled with Otis and post-edited manuall. I do not support AI, this stuff is sometimes quite challenging to recognize, I'm trying my best to track the source of the art I reblog, but if you ever see me reblogging AI, this is an accident and I want to be notified about it to remove it, thank you! Same goes for reposted/stolen art.

My main OC is Ívarr and y'all gonna see him a lot. This piece of lore is more or less what this dude is all about -

..."There are two faces he wears - the human and the demonic one. His demonic name - a second personality - is Vylthir. Ivarr refuses to consider it an inner battle - not after he made peace with it. On the contrary, he's more than comfortable letting the monster out when needed (or just because) - and Maelstrom turned out to be a perfect environment to let the demon exist in all his glory. He is the one giving the 'stromers guidance on all the occult aspects of their rituals, a creature they sacrifice their enemies to - as a demon, feeding on people's fear and vulnerabilities. Messing with his victims' minds, he consumes their consciousness (or one would say - souls) during the gang's rituals, staying a part of the gang and giving them protection and support. Harsh and demanding, Ivarr is the one who rules with an iron fist, cruel when needed and sometimes for fun. Merciless, cold-hearted and domineering - especially when his darkest half takes over".

There's a shitton of lore for him written within the RP, I occasionally post it under:

MAIN TAG ✦ LORE ✦ INSPO ✦ ART

The dude is a hot and horny demon and he knows it - yet he's happily taken and you can see him clowning hardcore being soft under the following ship tags:

X: TIGER LILIES ✦ X: SIRENS SONG ✦ X: TROUBLE COMES IN THREES

My queue is quite long (5-7 days), so if I liked your post and didn't reblog it - it's queued. I can't take commissions - I barely have free time to keep up with my personal projects (own OCs, ships, etc), but I do have a queue of projects/collabs with other people/OCs, and I'd really love to get to it at some point (catching up slowly).

#ok finally getting my shit together lmao #been 2 years xD #pinned post #oc: ivarr #original characters #cyberpunk 2077 #original character

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Drag Him Back

@redwingedwhump and I did a WWI-but-with-vampires AU RP with our characters. Then we did an AU to the AU. And this is just a lightly discussed Au-to-the-AU-to-the-AU... just a thought I had in my head that refused to leave.

This is a one-shot just to get it out.

CW: Captivity, vampirism, referenced noncon but just implied, escape, some suicidal ideation

- 1917, Belgium

The door was left unlocked.

It was sheer luck that Emil even noticed. He was lying on his back on the bed, staring up into the canopy and listening to the sound of his own heart struggling to beat despite the lack of blood left in his veins. His neck still tingled, the aftereffects of the venom sending tendrils of exhausted pleasure down through his limbs.

One of the servants had come in to check on him, like they always did once his master was done. The emperor was not kind to his creatures, and there were three servants whose entire existence revolved around keeping Emil alive until His Majesty had finished with him.

Emil was long since past caring about the looks on their faces when they came in to wash the smears of blood and other fluids from his neck, his face, his stomach, between his legs. He barely felt it. The memory of the emperor's hands and his body cold as winter pressed against Emil's own wiped away any comfort he could ever have taken from the pity he saw on the servants' faces.

He barely felt alive.

Someone helped him to stand long enough to change the sheets on the emperor’s enormous bed. Someone else wrapped a bandage around his neck before easing him into a hot bath to soak his aching muscles. A third laid out fresh clothing for him. A fourth only watched the others. Emil laid there, trying not to think about the stinging pain he felt far too deep inside.

Instead, he thought about how lovely it would be to sink beneath the warm water and simply not resurface. Let it close over him and put an end to this nightmare for good. 

But… he could not make himself seek that death, which seemed nobler sometimes and like cowardice at others. Deeper down than his despair, a single point of certainty burned - if he could only hold on long enough, his chance for escape would come.

And then, unlike the last three attempts he made to run, he would not be dragged back for the emperor’s displeasure to write itself on his skin. The next time, it would work, he would be free, and he would stay hidden from the emperor’s gaze for as long as it took for the vampire’s eye to turn itself to some other unlucky bastard that would be put into his place. 

One day.

If he lived long enough.

If he could hold off that final despair. 

He let his head tip back against the lip of huge wrought-iron tub and exhaled, listening without really hearing the servants’ whispered words as they spoke above and around him. The clink of porcelain, a teacup on a saucer settled down next to the bed. The commands by the emperor’s own personal servant, a rung above the other two on the ladder. 

Someone came and helped him to sit back up, washed his hair for him. Emil never opened his eyes even to see who it was. He murmured answers to the questions put to him.

He did enjoy the way they knew to scrub at his scalp, though, the gentleness that with the emperor was laced with humiliation, but with the servants was simple efficiency.

It didn’t matter.

As long as it wasn’t the emperor touching him, back already to bring him to the brink of death but refuse him the final peace, he didn't mind. As long as it was only a human servant, with warm hands and a beating heart. As long as he did not feel those chill, long fingers closing slowly around his throat, feel the cool breath against his jaw, the graze of those sharp fangs over the scars of dozens of wounds left to heal only with time.

As long as it was a human who touched him, at least he could feel human himself - if only for a moment or two. 

He had not felt human often, these past two years. Instead, he wore a pendant on a leather cord like pampered dogs wore collars, the emperor’s vampire clan mark carved into it. It was a collar he could never - would never dare - remove. Emil remembered the first time it had been slid over his head, how cold the pendant had been, at first. He had been kneeling on the floor, arms bound behind him and tears still drying until his face felt like cracked sand. His father’s body had been still warm from the slaughter that had taken his family and left him the heir to lands that had been conquered.

Not that being heir meant much, when the emperor had seen him and demanded his life.

If only... if only it had been just to feed.

He had been lifted to his feet by the emperor’s seemingly effortless strength - oh, but he hadn’t been the emperor, then. Just a minor noble, someone whose ambitions had been laughed at by the wealthy humans who thought themselves above vampiric predations. But the vampire plague had taken the country faster than anyone thought possible. It had spread east and west into the neighboring lands, and when they had come to Emil’s home, there had been no stopping them.

Emil had been a prize, that’s all, a symbol that the soon-to-be emperor could take what he wanted whenever he wanted it. There had been protests, but each one had been quelled. Every riot violently suppressed, each battle won, the man who held him rising and rising in the world until finally, half of Europe knelt at his feet.

No one cared about the nobleman who had become blood supply and plaything, begging on command and baring his throat with only a crook of the emperor’s ringed finger. His schoolmates all probably assumed he was dead. It... it had been a kindness the emperor had done, to have him announced as having died with his family. It had been a mercy, that everyone believed he was buried back in Austria-Hungary with his parents and brothers.

Really... he was, in a way.

The Emil who had witnessed his father’s bloody death had died then and there, in the dining hall of their estate. He wasn’t sure who had risen from kneeling and allowed himself to be led in numb horror to the conqueror’s bed, but it hadn't been the same man who had gone to his knees in the first place.  

He might have left his own mind, during the bath.

He was in the tub, staring at nothing. Then he blinked and found himself lying back on the bed in the fresh, clean bedding, head on a pillow, staring once again up into the gilded canopy above him. He wore a loose white shirt and dark pants. On a side table, that cup of tea had long since cooled and lost its steam. 

Who had made it?

Where had they gone?

When had he gotten dressed, or been dressed, without noticing?

Moreover… how long had Emil been lost in wherever it was he often went, after the emperor’s visits? 

It didn’t matter. 

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, the room briefly swimming around him. The emperor’s temporary accommodations in this strange place - some neutral ground between invader and invaded, where representatives met at tables to bicker and argue before the vampires slaughtered them all anyway - were the nicest available, but he would have been happier sleeping on the floor, if only he were allowed to sleep alone. 

Or to sleep during the night.

But he had to stay awake. If the emperor wanted him again, he would be punished if found sleeping without permission again.

He couldn’t have said what inspired him to look over at the door. It was purely some thoughtless fancy, but he felt his breath catch in his throat when he realized… the door was cracked open. He could see a sliver of the hallway just beyond it.

Emil swallowed, his throat tightening nearly to breathlessness as he tried to understand. The door was never left unlocked, had never been open. All his prior escape attempts had been through windows he’d broken or jumping out of the emperor’s auto and running into the crowd. This could not be real.

It must be a trap, a test, the emperor toying with him. Another of his games. It... it must be.

Emil pushed himself fully upright, then. He slid to the edge of the bed and stood, leaning against one of the four posters for balance as his head swam the world spun. His heart lurched painfully in his chest, beating with labored throbs that made it hard to expand his lungs. 

Somewhere in this cavernous place, his master would be smiling as he watched nations fall at his feet, as the radio sent updates on the battles in France where human men fell in waves, some rising as vampires to turn on those they had called friends - against their will, but when one’s vampire commands… the fledglings, as the emperor called them, obey.

There was no way for the humans to win, and yet they fought to the bitter end. Even brought some of their own vampires to the side, including the oldest one to survive the madness of life too long lived.

They had held longer, here, and now the Americans were involved, but...

He was distracting himself. If it was a trap, well, he would have to step into it and feel it close around his foot. But if it wasn't... could he live with himself if he ignored even the tiniest, slimmest chance?

One foot in front of the other, each step a little less difficult than the last. He went from the bed to the doorway, just barely brushing his fingers against the heavy wood. When he eased it open a little further, some part of him was braced for screaming rusted hinges to give him away, but… no. The hinges had been oiled recently. The door swung, smoothly silent, and Emil stared into a perfectly empty hallway.

Of course, it was nearly midnight.

The vampires would all be moving around, the servants had come by and done their work, and only the blood would be left, some of it tied down and some simply too frightened or lost in the haze of the vampire's venom to wander.

Emil was far past being frightened, by now. And the emperor did not always give him enough venom to leave his mind too emptied to act.

If he tried to run and was caught again, he had no doubt he would be killed for it this time. He had pushed his master’s patience too often, to its limits. And yet… was the way he lived now even living, or simply an impossibly slow death anyway?

Emil took one step.

Then another.

He shuddered, goosebumps on his arms and a chill down his spine. He felt dizzy for an entirely different reason as he stood in the hallway, alone, for the first time since his capture two years before. No servant, no minder, no guard, no emperor-master whispering vile promises in his ear with a hand curving around his waist. No vampire nearby licking their lips and threatening to turn him to mincemeat whenever his master grew bored and threw him to the pack to be devoured.

Gas lamps gave off a warm, flickering yellow light up and down the hallway. The emperor disliked the new electric lights, as he kept calling them, the same way he loathed the automobiles that nonetheless outpaced the horses. The rest of this building was wired for the electricity - but the emperor’s own quarters were still lit with gas.

It took only a few seconds to move from the door to the end of the hallway, but Emil felt like it took ages. Each second ticked painfully, violently by the second hand on a clock hanging on the wall. His heart seemed to pound in time, his hands shaking so hard that when he tried to open another door, it took him three tries to grip tight enough to pull.

This door’s hinges squeaked - just a little. Emil froze, heart in his throat, and stared with wide, white-rimmed eyes around him, waiting for the shouted demands to be still, for a hand to clamp down and drag him back to the bed, where the emperor would have him chained, just like he had at the beginning.

His ankle still wore scars from the metal cuff that had been closed just a little too tightly. It had taken months to earn its removal, months that must be earned again after every single escape attempt failed. 

The wounds lingering along his throat beneath his bandage stung, reminding him of his place in this dance of war between nations - to lie in bed and wait to be wanted, to be consumed, once again. He had wanted to play soldier, as a young boy. He had never gotten the chance as a man.

No one came after him, and so Emil moved further, keeping to shadowy areas, shifting in and out of emptied rooms when people walked past, staying carefully out of sight. He found boxes and boxes of papers, telegrams and notes from the front. The further he went, the more what snatches of speech he overheard from those he was hiding from were no longer in a language he understood. At some point, his careful movements had taken him out of the emperor’s quarters and into the enemy’s.

This building was neutral ground, but only if you stayed to your own side of it. He caught snatches of French and English, but no longer any German.

Emil was trespassing, then, and it was only a matter of time before he was noticed. There was no escape here - taking advantage of that unlocked door had been a mistake. As high as his hopes had risen, they crashed far, far lower. He found himself shifting into a wardrobe, sitting heavily down and curling into a ball, hands over his face. He would be found, turned over to the emperor, chained back to the bed again. He would be made to regret ever trying, yet again, to find some life outside of the hell he had been forced into. The Allies would sneer at him for the blood doll he'd been forced into being, and would care no more for him than anyone else.

The rumors said the Allies had offered asylum and even amnesty in some cases to any of the newly-turned vampires who could find their way to them, the ones forced to fight against their will. But would they offer the same to a man tied to a bed for two years?

Emil might rather die than see the look in their eyes as they understood what he was, what he'd done.

He had to get out of here, or death would come in the end anyway. No matter how well behaved he was, the emperor would become bored with him. Worse... he might choose to Turn him, and then he would be subjected to the man’s commands burning through his vampiric blood for all eternity, or at least until he was no longer wanted and was disposed of anyway. There would be no choices for him. There could be no final rebellion, not unless he took his chance now and ran.

Two of the enemy came into the room and Emil went still. He could hear them talking, but all he knew in their language was hello, goodbye, please and thank you, useless things like that. He had no idea how to say, I am not a spy, please, I need help, what do you want to know about the emperor? I will tell you anything, just don’t give me back to him, please don’t give me back. Please don't torture me, I know nothing useful, I only don't want to be his any longer.

The two men spoke. Papers rustled. Eventually, though, the door opened and closed again. Emil waited, counting to one hundred three times inside his mind, and then he cracked open the wardrobe to peek out.

The men were gone.

One of them, though, had left his dress jacket draped over a chair. 

Emil moved in a rush, ignoring the dizzy spin that still clung to the edges of his vision, pushing himself out and jerking the scratchy wool on. It fit almost perfectly, which felt like some small miracle of luck. His pants were all wrong, but it was dark at night and dim even with the lights. Maybe he could go unnoticed, if he was quick and looked busy.

He rapidly finger-combed his hair, trying to get it to be less mussed, to be more the English style he'd seen here and there.

He made it halfway down the hall before he realized, with something like embarrassment more than terror, that he was still barefoot. It was just that, losing so much blood, his feet mostly always felt cold and a little numb. He was never allowed shoes unless the emperor took him outside anyway. He hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t wearing them. Someone would eventually see that...

But maybe he could make it outside before they did.

If he could make it outside, he could disappear into the city streets, leave the soldier’s jacket somewhere to be found and maybe returned to him, and… he had no idea what would come after that.

Emil no longer cared.

He hadn’t felt this alive since the emperor had first taken his chin in hand and called him beautiful, right to his face, since the pendant had been slid over his head and settled cool against his skin to mark him as no longer fully a man.

He hesitated as he pushed up a window inside a dark room, feeling the breeze from outside come inside with a biting chill. One hand went up to graze fingertips along the leather cord, to find the carved pendant. He…

No.

If he wanted to even have a chance to survive recapture, he could never take off the emperor’s mark, no matter how he hated its eternal weight and how easy it was to forget it was even there.

“Oy, Nightley, is that you?” A voice spoke up. He knew none of the words, beyond you, and he turned to look, startled. He felt like a deer freezing in the glare of sudden light. The man in the doorway squinted at him. “You look rough, Lieutenant. Trouble sleeping?”

He recognized the lilt of the man’s voice as a question having been asked. Emil swallowed, and took a chance - he nodded, and hoped he hadn’t chosen the wrong response.

“Me too. Bloody hard as hell to sleep with fangs all over the place. Although I guess you have it easier than most, since you’re used to the damn things, aren’t you?”

He chanced another nod, a shrug of his shoulders. The man came closer and Emil’s heart dropped into his stomach, terror sending chills down his spine, his arms, even to the very tips of his fingers and toes. He would be known, in a moment. He would be handed back to the emperor, to face his rage, or he would be used as a bargaining chip in the negotiations and the emperor would simply find some other pretty creature to claim for his own. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Blackthorne’s sort of a prickly business. Oh, shaved off your moustache, did you? Odd choice, thought you liked the damn thing. Anyway, you want a smoke? I’m dying for one, myself, always helps me relax.” The man held out a cigarette.

Emil took it, trying to hide how badly his fingers trembled. He nearly dropped the damn thing. The man lit his own cigarette with a match, fire briefly flaring and then dying out, and lit Emil’s as well.

He chanced, keeping his voice raspy as he inhaled and exhaled the cloud out into the night air - he hadn’t had a smoke since the emperor claimed him, it made the blood too bitter for him to enjoy - a simple, slight, “Thank you.”

He knew how to say that in English, at least.

“Welcome, lieutenant. Bloody mess, this war with vampires business. Keeps a man from his bed at all hours, and I feel like I’m just… buildin’ a wall that’ll get kicked over as soon as it’s done.”

Emil made a sound. Was it a yes, or a no? Even he couldn’t tell. The man’s tone gave him nothing to go on. He was guessing and he had no faith in his luck. It wasn’t as if he’d had any before this.

The man chuckled, unbothered, and turned away. “Not in a mood for natterin’ tonight, are you? Well, I’ll leave you to yourself, then. Oh, Blackthorne was looking for you. Shall I tell him you’re in here?” 

Emil heard the question-sound again, and he paused, staring outside, and then just nodded. 

“Huh. You are a quiet one tonight. Well, fair enough.” The man, sounding maybe a little upset, disappeared back out into the hallway. He was gone, though, and Emil inhaled his cigarette so deeply the embers flared bright in the near-darkness. He listened to the man walking away and slowly followed, closing the door behind him. He counted to sixty, and then moved back across the room and eased the window open the rest of the way. 

It was easy enough to shift one leg out, then the other, turning and moving slowly downward until his bare feet touched cold grass. 

In the room he had just left, the door opened again. “I swear,” Said the voice of the man who had given him the cigarette, “I thought it was you I saw in here, Lieutenant. Oy, wait, look over there-... someone's gone out the window!"

Emil let go in a panic, turning to run and then coming to a sudden stop. There was a high fence all around the building, too high for him - weak from blood loss and the enforced idleness of captivity - to climb on his own. 

There were shouts from the room behind him, and welcome adrenaline flooded his veins as he simply turned on his heel and ran like hell. There had to be a gate, a way out onto the streets, somewhere he could safely disappear to. Or even a stable, a place to hide long enough to try to think of his next move. 

There had to be somewhere-

He was so busy looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being followed that he ran directly into a wall.

He landed with a thump on his back on the grass, the breath knocked out of him, mouth open like a fish on land until his lungs cooperated again and he could inhale with a wheeze, trying to climb to his feet, stumbling. A hand caught him by one arm, and he jerked back as hard as he could.

“Hey, Lieutenant, are you-”

He took off running again.

"Hey!"

"Catch him! He's got my dress jacket!"

"Who the hell is that? Is that one of the Germans?"

His head pounding, vision narrowed to a single panicked point, a tunnel of clarity surrounded by sheer, impenetrable darkness, Emil ran.

He couldn’t run for long. He adrenaline wouldn't hold out. He could already feel it threatening to flag, but there was a tree next to the fence, and if he could climb it, he could get over.

Then he would just have to be able to keep running.

If he could just run for long enough, maybe he could get far enough away that the emperor would not drag him back to hell.

#original writing #whump #captivity #escaped whumpee #runaway whumpee #vague military whump #referenced noncon #vampire #vampires #referenced blood drinking #some vague pet whump vibes #war whump #WWI #alt history

[stella-sanguis]

@iron-hearts-ablaze continued from here

ASTARION hummed happily at the kiss pressed to his temple, leaning further into Karlach's embrace. Once a raging inferno, the repairs to her engine had turned her heat into a pleasant warmth; one that he loved to indulge himself in whenever he could.

" PERHAPS not...but I'll savor all the time we have left together, however long. " He feels the telltale sting of tears in his eyes, and he buries his head in Karlach's shoulder to hide them from her view. " Gods, you've made me soft. " It's stated like a complaint, but he's certain she can feel him smiling into her shoulder. " If you keep being so sweet to me, my cold, dead heart may just start beating again. "

#:: this is so soft <3 :: #hellspawn :: karlachxastarion #danse macabre :: rp #verse :: taste of freedom #iron-hearts-ablaze #our fiery friend :: karlach

[cemeterything]

!!

Name: Lincoln Ray

Pronouns: He/Him

Appearance: 5'10, tan, freckled, lanky, shoulder length choppy red hair he cuts and dyes himself, broken nose, reddish-brown bloodshot eyes, often wears sunglasses due to his photosensitivity, has a scar on his chin and scarred knuckles.

Lincoln is a joke oc I made to mock dudes who think they're cool because they play guitar who accidentally became one of my favorite little guys from my mind of all time. He's a trans self-made musician and neither Lincoln nor Ray are his legal names, but since he had an abusive father and his mother abandoned him in the hospital after he was born (for which his dad blamed him) he prefers not to go by his surname. His little sister, Maisey-Lee (also trans), also uses the surname "Ray", as Lincoln basically raised her, escaping from the house after his dad turned his abusive tendencies on Maisey shortly before he turned 18.

He's Texan, with a noticeable Southern drawl, and his difficult upbringing has led to him putting on a front of ironically over-the-top masculinity (at least in his mannerisms; he wears his hair long and dresses in punkish fashion, and is a vocal and supportive ally of LGBT and other marginalized people, a lot of whom make up his fanbase) and struggling to sincerely express himself emotionally or let himself be vulnerable with others. However he's kinder and more capable of caring for others than he believes himself to be, with a big and rather soft heart and a strong sense of justice.

Lincoln is best friends and secretly in love with his childhood friend Memphis. They met in middle school before Lincoln transitioned, after being sent to the principal's office for fighting in class, and stuck by each other until Lincoln went his own way to pursue his career in music. Lincoln struggles with his feelings for Memphis, as although the two are close he worries about ruining their friendship and suffers from some internalized shame and fear of judgement despite identifying as bisexual.

Lincoln struggles with anger issues caused by his difficult childhood as a neglected and abused trans kid in rural Texas, but music helps him to channel his rage and cope with his more destructive impulses, and he's nothing but good to Maisey and other kids, who he feels a sense of protectiveness over. He tends to stick up for anyone he perceives as vulnerable and in need of a protector.

Lincoln started as a TMA oc (avatar of the Slaughter), but he's also featured as an oc in Netherbound (original fiction RP) as a voidsoul (incarnation of a person who died; in Lincoln's case he died after picking a barfight with the wrong people) and Angelverse (original fiction RP) as the Angel of War, who fell from heaven and now pursues his true passion of making music and protecting others, particularly those harmed by the same wars he was created in the name of.

(art by @/haxxydraws)

#ask game #oc ask game #lincoln ray #abuse mention

[tinydeskwriter]

Traitor Extra: 73 Questions With Vogue

singer!reader

summary: Y/n Y/l/n receives Joe Sabia for a 73 questions interview, with three very special appearances.

word count: 1859

warnings: fluff

A/n: So is the end of the mystery of who’s Y/n ‘New Man’, just so you guys know: the choice was made by popular demand. Here you also get to find out the name and genre of Y/n and Harry’s twins. This is a Fluff with happy, motherly, in love Y/n.

73 QUESTIONS WITH Y/N Y/L/N | VOGUE |2023

It starts with Joe Sabia's hand pressing the golden floral-framed doorbell, and then focusing on the light blue wooden gate with cast iron flowers detailing that almost disappeared into the exposed brick wall covered in white Wisterias.

Extremely English for a home in Brentwood, California.

Seconds passed before the door was opened by a smiling Y/n Y/l/n. "Joe! Hi, come, let's go inside." The British Pop Icon stepped aside giving him space to enter the property. The camera briefly focused on the surrounding huge whimsical garden, all very green and a little wild, with a bigger variety of flower than one would think possible, there were some fountains, and a small artificial pond with fish.

The camera focused on the children's toys scattered around the garden before refocusing on the woman they were there to interview.

“Hey, Y/n! Thanks for having us, are you ready to answer 73 Questions with Vogue?"

The twenty-six-year-old woman was as impeccable as ever. The long wavy hair that was almost a trademark of hers along with the red lipstick, was down, looking very natural and relax. She wore a red linen ensemble of top showing her midriff and mid-skirt from Cult Gaia, showing off her bare feet with impeccable manicure and gold anklets.

"Oh I'm so excited, I've been waiting a while for this moment." The woman confessed, walking backwards and leading him through the immense garden. The camera panned briefly to the house's garage, where a few cars were outside, before refocusing on the path to the house.

"Good, I know how busy you are, so let's get this thing done."

Y/n tossed her hair back and looked at the camera. "OK, let's go."

"How would you describe your life right now?"

"Hectic." The singer said with a big smile. "I've just finished a leg of my world tour, I've started filming a movie, I'm writing songs for my next album, we are expanding Greentable, we've just moved into this house and I have two little monsters that have arrived in the terrible-two phase."

"England or America?"

"England is a part of me and will always have my heart, I'm always visiting but these days America is my home."

"Something that irritates you deeply?"

"Today?" She asked twirling the ends of her hair around her fingers. "That my children speak with an American accent." The woman shook her head as Joe laughed.

Y/n she was famous for her RP accent, something that had famously earned her the nickname 'Queenie' among her intimate circle of friends —which included some of Hollywood's most A-listed names—.

"How big is the garden and backyard space on this property?" Joe asked curiously, they were only able to see the roof of the house over the treetops for now, the house was hidden by the garden.

"Approximately 4 and a half acres." She answered. "We like outdoor space for the kids to have where to let off steam without wreaking the house, and I love a garden."

They finally reached the lawn in front of the house, a huge white exposed brick Italianate house surrounded by floral bushes. Y/n guided Joe across the porch, and they finally entered the house.

"This house looks like it belongs in another era." The camera panned to show the spacious entrance hall of the house.

"And it belongs." The English woman agreed. "It was built in 1875 in Memphis, it was going to be torn down so they could build a new skyscraper on the land, I fell in love, so we hired a company to 'dismantle' the house and transport it to California."

"What's your favorite room in the house?" The camera followed Y/n as she gave the ‘tour’ of the house.

"The kitchen, is where we always end up getting together, when people come home, on a daily basis as a family." The singer said leading them to the kitchen. "The kitchen is truly the heart of the home."

The kitchen was large, predominantly green and retro-style, the green enamel Aga stove was large enough to cook for an army, and the dark wooden French farmhouse table was large and could easily fit more than ten people, cookbooks could be seen on the shelves, and flowers in vases occupied almost every surface.

"Do you cook?"

"Always." The woman opened the fridge and took out a pitcher. "Do you want iced tea? I made it just before you arrived."

"Please." Joe accepted, the camera following Y/n as she took two glasses from the cupboard.

"My partner and I always cook together," She said pouring the tea into the cups, "and Sunday family lunch is sacred, so it's usually me, my mother-in-law, and my sister-in-law in the kitchen, gossiping about the men and the kids, while the men grill the meat in the backyard." Y/n smiled at the camera handing the cup to Joe. "All very domestic."

"This is amazing." Joe complimented the tea while Y/n took a sip.

"Thank you, it's a blend my mother taught me when I was little, all fresh fruit and herbs from my kitchen garden," she said, putting the jar in the fridge. "The children love to help me pick fruits, vegetables, herbs… we have to get creative not to waste, because my little monsters always pick way too much."

"Supermarket or Farmers' Market?"

"My vegetable garden." She answered. "But if I don't have it in my garden I'll go to the nearest Farmers Market." Y/n put the used cups on the sink. "I was always worried about what I put in my body, but after I had kids it got worse, that's what inspired me to found 'Greentable', only organic, unprocessed, with natural preservatives and at affordable prices, healthy shouldn't be expensive." The singer guided Joe out of the kitchen, down a hallway with both walls covered in books.

"Maximalist or Minimalist?" The camera filmed around the colorful room, before returning to Pop Icon's face.

Y/n had a pointed look, opening his hands to the room they were in.

"Please, maximalist."

"How would you describe your decorating style?"

"Granny Chic, Wes Anderson-inspired with a touch of Gucci Home extravaganza." She led him across the living room, the camera focusing on the awards scattered across the furniture surfaces, and the Gucci pillows strewn across the velvet sofas.

"Living Style Icon?"

"Oh My, you want to cause a war." She joked as she picked up a pillow from the floor and placed it on the couch, sitting up and resting her face in her hands, it was a known fact that her friend group had a few of the most fashionable people in the world. "I'll say Sir Elton John, I love him, he's a very dear friend."

"Most iconic person you've collaborated with on a song?"

"Sir Elton John." She said with a smile, standing up.

"Most sentimental gift you've ever received?"

"It wasn't for me, it was for my kids." The camera followed her into the room that was clearly a music room. "Taylor Swift gave them hand-stitched blankets made from the fabric of her dresses with their embroidered initial, it is really adorable."

"Your kids are two years old and so far their names haven't been revealed in public, I can't wait any longer," Joe laughed. "Are you going to reveal their name to me?"

Y/n gave a harmonious laugh, sitting on the piano bench and crossing her leg, she was silent for half a second, before pointing to the wooden chests in the corner of the room with their names written in golden calligraphy.

"Love Helene and Angel Apollo Y/L/n-Styles." The Englishwoman said with a soft smile. "The name really suits them, Lovie is the most loving child, she's exuberant and outgoing, Pollo is more shy until he gets more familiar with someone, but he's usually the better behaved of the two." She said getting up and opening the French windows that overlooked the backyard, the childish screams and the male voice invaded the room. "Love is our little tyrant, whenever all the cousins get together she's the one who runs the group, no matter she's the youngest."

“What is your pet peeve?” He followed her to the porch.

"A camera in my face." She said with a raised eyebrow.

"What's your perfect day off like?"

"My children, my partner and I at home." They circled the porch closer to the noise, her smile grew.

"Last country you visited?"

"England." She said quickly, without needing to think. “The children went to visit their Granny.”

"A country you'd like to visit next?"

"We are planning a family trip to Kenya." The singer confessed walking down the steps to the backyard.

The camera focused on the backyard, in the background you could see the pool and a sports court, and on the lawn Y/n's companion of almost two years was running after the children. The three had excited smiles on their faces as they played. The man finally caught the little girl in white jumpsuit knitted with pink hearts, her squeal of joy was infectious.

"It's always like that?" Joe asked, as Y/n and he approached the group.

"Always, it's rare to have moments of silence around here." She said being attacked by screams of 'Mummy'.

Y/n bent down picking Pollo in her arms. The handsome little boy hid his face in his mother's neck as soon as he saw the camera with Joe, making the woman laugh. She ran her hand down his back in a soothing manner, whispering in his ear till the little boy turned and waved to the camera.

Angel Apollo had curly brown hair, rosy skin, and his father’s famous emerald green eyes, he was Harry’s carbon copy, even the dimples that showed as soon as he gave Joe a shy smile.

"He's shy." Y/n smiled at Joe, the two turned to watch the man approaching them with the little girl on his shoulders.

From a distance it was possible to see that Love Helene was Y/n mini me, except the eyes, she shared her brother’s emerald green eyes.

"Michael B Jordan." Joe greeted the actor.

Michael B Jordan and Y/n Y/l/n were the power couple the world was in love with, since the older actor had walked with Y/n on the red carpet at Elvis' Cannes premiere.

"Hey Joe!" Michael smiled at the man as he kissed the side of his partner's head, taking Love off his shoulders and carefully lowering her to the floor.

Y/n put Angel down, instructing the two kids to go play in the playhouse, where they could see them.

"Do you mind answering a few questions?"

"I'm ready! Let's go." The Creed III actor and director said with his typical winning smile, clapping his hands.

"Do you mind telling us how you and Y/n met?" the group of three sat on the beautiful vintage rattan set displayed on the lawn, Michael and Y/n sharing the daybed while Joe took one of the chairs.

"Met Gala 2018, I saved this one from breaking her neck on the MET steps."

Y/n rolled his eyes at his partner's 'man' way of telling the story.

"An actress had a very voluminous dress, and when she turned around, her skirt pushed me." She detailed better. "It just so happens that we were standing on the edge of the stairs, in my head everything happened in slow motion, I thought: Okay, I'll be the first person to die at the Met Gala, has anyone ever died at the Met Gala?" She then looked up at Michael, her eyes showing pure adoration. "I just felt someone grab my wrist and pull me, and there he was, we became friends after that."

The couple shared a loving look—that everyone watching would correct call    ’eye love-making’—.

"How would you describe Y/n Y/l/n in three words?"

"Queen…Goddess…" He said with a playful smile as the woman pushed him away, an equally big smile on her face. "Mine?" the third word came out more like a question directed at the singer.

"Yours." She agreed.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine

[thevoidofwinter]

this is SUPER late bc its been A Time lately and i also kinda forgot for a while oops. BUT. a little bit of rambling about my cccc/hms designs + interpretation as requested by @keruukat :]

so first off, all three of them in my "main" designs for them are incredibly creature coded. this is literally just because i wanted to and enjoy that type of theme. mind is dragon themed, heart is... bird creature thing. themed. and soul is cockatrice themed which was actually not my idea and a big brain suggestion my friend @atticustimestwo came up with (thank you forever atticus btw. probably never would have thought of that myself sLJFKSL) !!! as a result of this, they're all incredibly instinct driven and highly reactionary. yes mind hates this.

side note, i also have different names i like using for them! mind is helios, heart is lunaris, and soul is anularis. this was mostly just to separate them when doing rps with friends but i've come to really enjoy these names :]

but with that out of the way! i'll start with my mind design bc i'm biased towards blue and dragons oops.

originally, he started out being the least creature coded of the three, both in terms how i was messing around with design and actually in how i read the "timeline" of the album, as it were. in character wise, he absolutely hated being "inferior" to the other two. he didn't have any claws to speak of, no scales, no feathers. he was the most human looking and he didnt like that. so what does he do? oh yknow.

design wise, i realized i liked leaning more into the robotic theming like a lot of people do bc idk! it's fun. why not. and then my dragon bias hit when i heard that One Line in RoE while drawing one day and the gears started turning. i still haven't ironed it out 100% drawing wise, but here's what i have so far:

a good part of the left side of his face is a screen! its default is just an eye, though it can be just about anything. it definitely turns to a clock during RoE and i do imagine it becoming super animated during TME. also glitchy from Be Born into TME as well.

his floating crown is a hologram he keeps up at most times, but the sun halo is just kind of. always there.

there's a lot of metal. like. a LOT. his neck is plated + his modulator is built into that. his entire spine is reinforced with metal. metal arms, probably some metal patches elsewhere too. and yknow the robotic dragon tail

he glows ominously in the dark. you can see that here- just kind of an aura type thing along with the glowy robotic bits on him.

he has irises and pupils, though most of the time they aren't visible bc he is. Tired. they snap into visibility when he's focused or angry though. (i have a very vivid mental image of them snapping into focus during the intro of TME)

he has mechanical wings! they're retractable and mostly are just there because, again, he couldn't bear to be "inferior" to heart and soul, who both also have wings. he can fly with them, though most of the time they're literally just for threat display. also yes, there are slits in the back of his jacket for the wings i just forget to draw them lol

he has an innate need to Be The Tallest. they're literally all the same height but this bitch wears heeled boots with metal on the soles to make himself taller.

the sun patch on his right jacket sleeve was put there by heart; the crown on the left he did himself.

he kinda??? has electricity abilities that he gained over the process of turning himself more robotic. this is important to note for a later note with soul :)

...that's all i can think of for now but i'm sure there's more i'm forgetting. its fine! onto heart :D

heart has always been the most creature coded to me, as the representation of emotion. and yknow. emotions can be pretty damn innate, instinctual, and visceral. or maybe that's just my take on it cause mine sure are lfsdkjhdfjk

i couldn't choose between black and white wings so his are both! a gradient from white into black with white speckles and purple heart-shaped markings on a few of the primary feathers :] he also has a lot of feathers in other places, such as covering his ears, his neck, chest, arms, legs, and of course tail.

his eyes aren't actually physically damaged! his near-blindness and extreme light sensitivity are actually a result of mind glowing blindingly bright (something something don't stare at the sun) after the shot, and then later the harsh red glow of soul's trident when he got the scars on his face.

his halo is a crescent moon most of the time, though it can change to different phases either on command or in reaction to his emotions. i haven't quite decided which phase stands for what yet, i'll figure it out eventually...

he loves loves loves putting patches on things, especially different textured ones. the heart patch on his hoodie sleeve is soft!

his blindfold has the phases of the moon on it! they weren't initially there as the blindfold was given to him by soul, but mind later embroidered the phases onto it during a concord loop.

his tail is actually kinda prehensile and really strong- he can totally use it to hang onto stuff and even hang off a branch upside down.

he used to be able to fly easily, but after getting his wings broken one too many times in scuffles, it's a lot more difficult to do so now. theoretically he still could with enough adrenaline, though.

he slouches a lot because of his wings, so he usually appears to be the shortest of the group. he can and will stand up straight for threat displays, though.

guy really doesn't like wearing shoes most of the time. socks it is.

aaand i think that's all i have for heart atm!

soooo, soul moment :] soul is such an intriguing guy to me. we really don't see (or hear, ig) a lot of him for a good part of the album, so tbh even to me he's still kinda an enigma. i do adore him a lot though. this guy is SO tired and done with heart and mind's shit, please let him have one (1) nap.

i went back and forth on this guy's design a whole lot before atticus suggested the cockatrice idea, and even a little bit after that i debated it for a while. should he be the most human, or appear so far disconnected that he's barely recognizable? WELL. turns out i went kinda midline with that lmao.

he has both scales and feathers to mirror heart and mind's respective features. i love a symbolism

he has a mane of feathers going down his spine, though it's usually only visible on his tail cause. yknow. clothes.

his wings are summonable, and he doesn't usually have them out cause they're HEAVY. they're a mix of draconic and feathered wings as well. he can also fly with them, though it's usually too much effort for him to even consider.

he has four red diamond-shaped lights hovering above his head at all times, like heart and mind have their respective permanent halos.

when under extreme stress/emotions, he has three light horns that manifest, reminiscent of his trident. he also glitches the fuck out

^ the visual glitching is actually a result of mind. what happened during the shot was that heart shot at mind (and missed, but the fact that heart even tried was the problem) -> when he finds out, soul unintentionally snaps and freaks the fuck out, attacking heart and mind -> mind panics and absolutely electrocutes soul, causing his form to glitch and go black and white -> ever since then, extreme emotions causes him to start glitching again!

the shadow half of him is also reactive to his emotions, though is there more often and easier than the glitching. it's pretty much his default, especially during cacophony. (i have a pretty vivid mental image of it fading into view during dream)

the back of his jacket has a trident, crown, and heart embroidered on it, something that all three of them worked on together :]

this is literally just for comedy reasons, but soul's shirt is usually a basic t-shirt, but sometimes it has text on it and the text can change at will

also have a few misc notes that i think are fun :]

while i do adore these creature-esque designs, i also want to do more abstract designs (that they're probably liable to shift to under extreme stress/it being their "true" forms), as well as closer to human designs :]

same thing with clothing designs. i'm so indecisive help. i think im gonna do all of one or two color designs, and then some alt designs where they mix and match colors some!

i do like to imagine heart is physically the strongest out of the three, mind mentally the strongest, and soul the strongest overall. just in relation to each other, of course.

...and i think that's all! at least all that i can remember right now lol, i'm likely to come back and edit this or reblog with additions when i think of more things. it's kinda intimidating to finally be posting this bc im usually so quiet on this front, but i hope whoever manages to read this giant wall of text enjoys! :D

#winter ramblies #chonny jash #cccc

[elmhat]

What are your thoughts on the fact that c!Quackity ACTUALLY committed cannibalism?

// dsmp rp

I think it's very funny and he should do it more often.

My actual thoughts are that it's... a bit insane! Nothing really screams "this is a cry for help" like eating your dead husband's heart. And I feel a little disingenuous trying to derive deep meaning and symbolism from what seemed, ultimately, to be an impulsive decision when his life was falling apart around him, but—why do it if not for the symbolism? This came at a time when Quackity was really struggling with power and his own relationship to it, and consciously or subconsciously, I think that literally consuming someone who simultaneously used to hold the power he wanted, and who also used that power to beat him down and demean him, was a pretty clear attempt to regain some semblance of control over his life. Pivoting his self-image so far away from victimhood that he ended up becoming the perpetrator.

The violence of it isn't to be overlooked, either. That transition period between Schlatt's death and what came after was when Quackity started leaning more heavily into brutality as a tool, something he had only ever been on the receiving end of before. He was out for blood. Eating a human heart is shocking, it tells people he's not soft anymore, you can't push him around, leave him alone. But more than that, it's a literal and psychological fusing of himself with Schlatt—or, more specifically, Schlatt's no-fucks-given attitude and his iron fist. Schlatt is a loser and an idiot and he's dead now, and Quackity will take the parts of him he needs and nothing more. He's saying, I can learn from Schlatt to become something better than either of us was alone.

(And Quackity is alone. Quackity feels so, so very alone. Does having someone else's heart inside you make your own beat stronger?)

Anyway, I think the Las Nevadas restaurant should serve human organs.

#c!quackity #c!schlatt #tw cannibalism #elm asks #lore thoughts