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trinity-xp · 2 years

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Egyptian God Dolos! A redraw~ because I felt like it and he looks hot LMAO

The shading style is less intense compared to before BUT my stole really improved a lot!

Here’s the original

#dolos livius #dolos the demon #my art #my oc #simple art #digitalart #demon oc #digital artwork #egyptian gods #egypt art #original story #original character #original art #oc artwork #oc artist #oc art #digital drawing

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onlyghouls · 2 years

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My freedom > everything.

It’s demon time.

#freedom #demon time #free #independent #solo dolo #ken kaneki #tokyo ghoul #transformation #youfirst #anime gif #in my bag

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icyowl · 8 months

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Fields of Dolos

Pairing: Leander x reader

Synopsis: Leander sees your curse in action for the first time. You tend to his wounds while he tends to your heart.

Request: none

A/N: Help this man has made me feral. How can you expect me to wait 2 and a half years to find out his secret?!

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

You'd love to say you were surprised, that you'd never expect yourself to be facedown in the mud, choking on street water, with a man's knee pressing down between your shoulder blades and forcing the remaining air from your lungs. . . but you'd be wrong. Why were you blessed with such a gravitation towards trouble?

The burly man's arms pinned yours to the ground, making it impossible to do anything other than thrash helplessly. He was huge — tall yet thick, his neck bordering on a triple chin. “We saw you with that horned demon. Conspiring to bring the soulless in here and massacre us all? Huh, worthless little wench?”

“That's not. . .” You wheezed. Lack of air was robbing you of your sight. After facing off against monsters from beyond your most twisted nightmares, it would be a slobbering, balding, pig of a man that would end you. How cruel. How ironic.

One comment by him shocked one final, desperate wave of adrenaline into you: “What're these bandages for?”

Suddenly your fight grew more desperate. “Don't! I'll hurt you!”

He seemed to take it as a challenge. “You? Don't think you're in any position to be making threats.”

Words were nearly futile, he was still bracing most of his weight on your back. Still, you had to try, especially when his fingers began to dig under the bandages. “'S not—” your demands turned to pleas when he began to reveal your darkened skin, “please!”

“Whoa, looks like we got ourselves a bonnefide freak here, boys,” he said to the chuckling grunts behind him, “your mom sleep with a monster or something? Bet getting someone to love an unsightly thing like you has been a real chore.” He ended with a laugh, tinging your fear with humiliation. Your mind threw up a brief image of Leander, the only person you'd been able to touch, the only one who put so much effort into showing you kindness. Would he care when he found your corpse?

“Hold her arm still, gents, I wanna take home a souvenir.” You could just catch the gleam of a knife—from what you could see with your head buried sideways in the ground—and struggled with everything you had left.

“No!”

The three of them together took your arm in their hands, the one on top of you bringing the knife to rest on your skin, causing blood to well from under the serrated edge. He had just begun to cut, eliciting a scream from you at the terrible plain, before the madness took hold of them, and brought the whole struggle to a screeching halt. The earth stilled, so too did your heart, until time began to pick up at twice the pace.

By some stroke of luck, as the insanity began to plague their minds, the men turned on each other rather than you, lunging and ripping at one another in a brutal frenzy. You could finally run. And run you did.

Their hideous cackles sounded behind you as you hastily scrambled for purchase in the mud and took off down the streets. Anywhere was safer than here. Were they following you? You didn't stop to look. The only thing you could process as you tore down the alleys was the overwhelming desire to run, to escape. Water obstructed your already impeded vision, burning hot with emotions you couldn't hold back: sorrow, hatred, regret. You'd just condemned more souls to insanity. It didn't matter that they probably deserved it, it didn't matter what they called you or wanted to do to you, it only mattered that you'd brought more trouble than you were worth and you despired your existence for it. Why couldn't you—

—you narrowly avoided colliding right into the man rounding the corner towards you, careful to clutch your arms close to your body until you took in the shocked lichen-colored eyes of the man you trusted most.

“L-Leander?”

He placed gentle hands on your shoulders. “I've been looking everywhere for you—what's wrong?” He added, clearly seeing your terror. You didn’t have the time to answer. If they chased you down, if they caught up… you dreaded to see the aftermath. People affected by your curse not only grew mentally fractured but physically unencumbered by basic human limits. They turned beastly, inhuman, unrecognizable, and the last person you wanted to witness that was Leander.

“They’re coming, we have to go,” you begged.

“Whoa, slow down…”

Icy dread enveloped your burning lungs at the sound of maniacal laughter and rushing footsteps. The three men had indeed tailed you, and now appeared from behind the corner, sporting horrible grins and distorted cackles. They moved at you in a trance; your attempted escape probably provided the instinct to chase you down through the sprawling streets. Frankly you had entirely forgotten Leander was there at all until he pulled you behind his large silhouette, causing the men to slow and become wary at his gaze alone.

They slobbered through enormous smiles until it fell from their chins in fat globs, giggling and mumbling all the while. It was a painful sight to watch but one you were far too familiar with. Just as scared as you were for your own life, you too worried about Leander. Three against one? Three against two—if you could be any help—still didn’t seem like a favorable outcome. There was no way—and yet, Leander looked like he certainly would try.

His hands lit up with the same bright swirls you first saw in the Wet Wick, but the feel of the energy was a far cry from what you’d seen before. Now he felt dangerous.

You voice trembled. “I’m sorry, I never—“

“Stay behind me.” Leander growled lowly. Had he always sounded so commanding? Guilt enveloped you to the point of resigned silence. It was one thing to deal with problems of your own doing, but now you were bringing in others too.

There was a momentary standoff while Leander kept them at bay with his aura alone, enough time for you to be engulfed by guilt to the point of pain. It was one thing to deal with problems of your own making, but now you were dragging in good, innocent people. People that would lead simpler lives without your presence.

Before you could think anymore the three men jumped on Leander. Or, tried to. Your companion transformed into a skilled, tactical fighter, keeping three grown men at bay with his fists, dagger, and waves of magic. It seemed to be going in his favor until the numbers game and their natural ferocity began to play out: as good as he was, Leander wasn’t winning against six tearing hands and burly adults with no regard for personal safety. They went at him like animals.

In the fray, Leander tossed one unwittingly close to your feet. You prayed you wouldn't be spotted, you really did, shrinking back against the alley's decrepit walls. The man's eyes were far too familiar.

Despite the broken jaw, courtesy of Leander, swaying to and fro, the man held you still with a gross and wicked grin. You could tell he had a broken leg, too. It didn't matter. He only stood, forcing the bone protruding from his shin farther out into the open air when he put his weight on it.

Fear? Absolutely.

Guilt? For sure.

Resignation, maybe even relief, that you were about to be put out of your misery? That was there, too.

It seemed like you were meant to suffer, so why not get it over with?

You stared while the man got down on all fours and lunged like the animal you'd turned him into. He flew at you, mouth agape and serrated teeth gleaming with saliva. It would have been the last thing you ever saw if it weren't for Leander, who, in one move, yanked you against his chest and turned so his back took the brunt of the attack. You both shifted as the enormous weight crash into him — he had to brace himself against the wall with his free hand to stay on his feet — yet he held tight, and you remained upright, protected, and unharmed.

A grunt gave away Leander's pain, yet he refused to loosen his grip on you. His voice was tight when he spoke. “You okay?”

You looked at his calm and gentle eyes, mouth wide with shock, and then to the man still biting into his back. Leander didn't wait for your answer. It was probably a good thing — words had escaped you entirely.

By now the savage man had wrenched his teeth free from Leander's shoulder, eliciting a spray of blood, and moved back to assess his options or plan for another onslaught. Leander adjusted the dagger in his grip. Sure, he looked like he could look after himself, the other two already dispatched and laying in the dirt off to the side, but all you could look at was the burgundy blood ebbing from the back of his shoulder and staining his cloak. Your chest shrunk two sizes.

Frankly you should have been used to violence by now — you certainly had seen your fair share — but still you closed you eyes when the man charged at Leander, somehow convinced your skilled friend would meet his end and unable to watch it happen. When you opened them, he was holding the man back with nothing but his hands on the man's arms, pushing him off balance and using the dagger to swiftly and precisely cut across his jugular. The man stumbled, gurgled, and smiled until he dropped dead in a limp heap.

The air began to settle. Dust floated back to the ground and the alleyway had gone silent except for the mildly labored breathing of Leander. He didn't even sound like he'd broken a sweat.

Finally your body felt safe to worry about breathing again. When before you'd been silent with fear, now you took in loud, gasping breaths like there wasn't enough air in the city to fill your tight lungs. Leander was on you in a second, hands trying to ease every jump of your shoulders.

“Easy, easy.” He said.

“I'm so—you shouldn't have had to—I—they—”

You should have been used to instances like this, you were used to instances like this, but what you weren't used to was the sacrifice he had made to keep you safe. Never before had anyone done something like that, and now he was bleeding because of it.

Your eyes found the tears in his cloak where he'd been bitten. It was one thing to know about your curse, to hear about it's side effects, but now he'd seen, with his own eyes, what it could do; he'd bared the brunt of it, too. He had accepted the fissured skin and skittish tendencies, but fighting off deranged men with horrible grins and getting bit in the process as if he were fighting off animals. . . you tucked your chin to your chest, full of dejection. You didn't want to confirm what you knew would be there: anger, disgust, fear, and rejection. A gentle grip on your hands drew your attention. Leander ducked to meet your eyes and you saw nothing but concern for you. It made you feel even worse.

“I,” you began.

“Your panic is consuming you. I need to get you to calm down before your heart bursts.” Leander didn't mean it seriously, but still you did as told. The last thing he needed was to look after you like a child. It took time, and the occasional word of encouragement from Leander, but eventually you were stable enough to stop taking in strangled gulps through your mouth and breathe through the nose like a normal person.

“Focus on your breathing,” he continued, pausing to use his gloved hand to tenderly wipe the mud from your eyes and cheeks, “here, let's get you cleaned up.”

When he was satisfied, he disappeared to get water, and when he was done with that, he walked you back to your room at the Wick, briefly telling a bloodhound to 'tend to what's behind Merda street' while you hide you exposed arm under your cloak. You didn't have the energy to tell Leander that he didn't actually have to help you up the stairs. Before you could get your key in the door's brass lock, Leander's hand was hovering over your arm.

“You're hurt.” He said. For the first time, you looked at the cut you'd received from the man's knife. One clean, crisp line of red bubbled up from your skin where your wrappings had been unwound. In truth you'd forgotten about it entirely.

“It's nothing.” You replied, rushing to open the door and get some space between you and the warm, inviting, chivalrous man crowding your body and mind. The room was small—just a bed, two chairs and a table, and a nightstand—but clean. Better than you'd ever remember having, anyway.

Leander entered the room and shut the door quietly behind him. “It's natural to be scared. They could have killed you.”

“It's not that,” you said hastily. Where had these tears come from? They were invading your eyes and welling up in your throat against all wishes. When Leander grazed your shoulder, sensing something was wrong, you jumped. He saw the look in your eyes. You looked at him like you had the first day you'd met: like you could hurt him.

“Or,” you continued, hand on your forehead to perhaps keep you from falling apart, “or it's just that. I don't know. It's just. . . you saw. You saw what I do to people. Out of everyone, I somehow kept this curse from affecting you, and now it has. Now you have proof how inhuman I am.”

Your other arm inherently covered your body. Anything to be smaller, to disappear. When you spoke again, it was watery with emotion, and you gestured to the wound taunting you from atop his shoulder. “And now I've hurt you—”

Just as you broke down, Leander was there to piece you back together. He pulled you right against his front, close enough that your feet knocked into his, and thumbed away your tears with gentle touches, knowing how sensitive skin could get under his rough gloves. Leander even guided your head back to look at him when you attempted to back out of his hold. Somehow he had laughter in his tone even when you were wracked with guilt and shame.

“You think you could ever hurt me? That I'd blame you? Ais does worse than this on the monthly! And I know you have eyes, I know you've seen that I've been through much worse.”

His gaze was intense with many emotions while he gave you time to look at the scar on his face. The one you'd touched and revered just as he was doing with you now. Leander was right: the scar on his face was proof that he'd endured much more than a bite wound. He still hid much of his past from you; he never talked about himself, always putting you as the center of his attention, and whenever you tried to get him to open up, he deflected smoothly.

No close friends. No long-term relationships (Kuras had told you that much). No real connections apart from you. At least, you thought it was a real connection.

“I'd still like to help tend to it, if that's okay.”

His eyes widened as it dawned on him what that would entail. “Are you sure? I can go to Kuras—”

“Please?”

Leander appraised you for a long moment, looking for what, you didn't know, but eventually he nodded and moved to sit on your single bed. The bed creaked loudly under his weight and he fixed you with an expectant gaze. It dawned on you at that moment that this was the first time you'd see him shirtless.

“Uhh,” you struggled, “I'll g-go get some medical supplies.”

Your trip down to the bar for a small bucket of water and other necessary items was just as much to give you time to work through your thoughts as it was to actually get some water. Would he already be shirtless when you got back? Why did it matter? What if you didn't do it right and he had to leave to find someone else? How did this become such a big deal? Was it a big deal or were you just making it out to be one? No way Leander worried about this as much as you, the guy probably did this with another woman this week. Would you be mad if he had?

The bartender had to say your name twice to get you out of your thoughts.

You returned -- pale, towels, and bandages in hand -- up the creaking stairs to your little room just at the top of the landing. The narrow wooden door, worn with gouges from years gone by and darkened in the grain, stared you down and pinned you still. It felt unyielding.

The brass handle elicited a shiver when you took it in hand.

If you had to guess, you'd expect Leander to have taken his shirt off, and yet, there he sat where you'd left him when you finally opened the door. Clothed, relaxed, smiling.

“I was starting to get worried.” He said.

“Yeah, I. . .” You trailed off awkwardly. Sensing you needed some help, Leander jumped in again.

“I might need some help getting this coat off. If you're still—”

“Yeah. Sorry.” You rushed to put the bucket down by his feet at the bottom of the bed. When you straightened, his eyes were a vibrant jade, comparable only to the precious stones you'd seen the occasional diplomat wear on your travels, and you stepped back, suddenly aware of the close proximity. Leander touched your arm gently to try and prevent you from back away, and showed no reaction when you instinctively flinched. You were still wary of any touch to your arms — you'd been through too much to overcome it so easily — but Leander had been endlessly patient with you. He'd been that way from day one. It was a gesture you were endlessly grateful for, even if your nerves prevented you from voicing it.

There had been one of two people that had been similarly kind, only to reveal their true intentions: kill my enemy, let me experiment on you, help me threaten my family. No one had shown you the genuine kindness that expected nothing in return. No one.

Leander stood, letting you walk around his side to the wide berth of his back and shoulders while he pulled his gloves one finger at a time and tossed them on the bed. "I wish I could help, but," he caught your eye with a mischievous glint in his own, "I think you'll have to undress me yourself this time."

"This time? This is the first time."

"There can always be more."

You decided to ignore his quips in favor of gripping the collar of his coat in your hands. The shudder that overcame him at the feel of your fingers brushing the back of his neck went unnoticed by you.

Leander groaned when you tried to relieve him of his cloak; he couldn't lie, the tugging made the bite mark flare dangerously with discomfort. The guy really got him good.

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't be, just -- be gentle, baby. I'm a sensitive guy." He added with a laugh.

Leander did his best to suppress a grating hiss when you pulled one sleeve down past his elbow. Sure, the wound was on the other shoulder, but the radiant pain was no joke. Twisting his shoulders in any way sent more blood from the wound like it was excited to leave his body. Just ridding himself of the coat was a slow, laborious process. First one side, then the other, then back again, every tug on his skin pushing more blood out into the air. He was thankful for your patience while he carefully bent this way to shimmy free. After one last pained moan, you were finally able to rid him of the cumbersome jacket and toss it on the bed.

You'd never seen Leander without it before. Even with all the clothes still remaining, you couldn't help the nerves catching fire under your skin, and Leander couldn't help but watch you take him in with a barely-concealed reverence.

Your eyes, after finding Leander's gaze too powerful to maintain, drifted back to the wound and gaped at the clear damage he had to endure. No way would a regular set of teeth do this much damage. "Did this guy really have serrated teeth?" You asked incredulously.

"Some gangs of Lowtown will do it as initiation. They believe it emulates the Soulless and makes them more intimidating."

Well, it proved far worse than simply intimidating. To penetrate his jacket, the leather gorget underneath, and his shirt? Another wave of guilt consumed you. You were no better than the Soulless or those you cursed if you let people around you get hurt. Should you leave town? A painful twist deep in your gut told you how much it would hurt to leave those who were perhaps the first -- the only -- people who cared about you. If it kept them safe, though. . .

"Hey," Leander pulled you quietly from your reverie with soft words and a gentle thumbing of your chin with his good arm, "I could never blame you for something like this, understand? You looked so scared. . ."

You nodded, at a loss for what else to do, having yet to meet his eyes. Leander wasn't convinced, leaning down until there were scarcely a few inches between his face and yours. No way he didn't feel your heart galloping behind your ribs, and yet, the color of his eyes alone and the emotions flickering within -- you dared to think you might have seen adoration -- were almost strong enough to distract you from your own overwhelming reaction to him.

Whatever he was looking for, he must have found it. You'd just begun to taste his exhale on your tongue before he pulled back, allowing you to breathe and clear your head in the cool air that took his place. Had your mouth always been this dry?

You were trying to regain your bearings when another one of Leander's agonized grunts tore you back to the present. What didn't he understand about I'd like to help? In a rush you were on him, reaching up to loosen the straps of his gorget. The buckles were pliable after so much use and were easy enough to undo. Subtle clinking from the metal was the only thing breaking up the otherwise quiet atmosphere. One by one they gave way until all that remained was the one at the back of his neck, holding the collared portion flush against his neck.

Now it was your turn to close the gap. Your heartbeat accelerated with a vengeance, and your fingers trembled as they so often did around him, but still, your persevered. Leander was kind enough to lean forward to make it easier to reach the back of his neck. Kind enough to put your heart into overdrive, more like.

Hurry up. Don't mess up. Hurry up. Don't mess up. Hurry up. Don't mess up.

He only continued to stare down at you, smiling all the while, as you fought to remain calm and keep from fiddling too much with the buckle. At this rate, you were practically embracing him -- something you'd done with others -- so why couldn't you stop worrying?

From here you could watch the unruly strands of his hair tickle his long lashes. A set of criminally stubborn eyebags taunted you from beneath his otherwise vibrant eyes. How had they never gone away? His smile was so easy, so casual, even with the dark circles and the deep scar embedded under his eye and down his neck. Only now did you notice the intense color on his cheeks; how had you gotten so brave?

You stepped away as soon as you were done, embarrassed, only for Leander to catch your arms in a soft grip of his own and meet your eye -- giving you plenty of time to protest -- before deftly beginning to reveal the rest of your cursed hands to the open air. Even the room's stagnant air felt cool against the skin you diligently kept covered under layers of bandages.

"When are you going to worry about yourself?" He asked, carefully inspecting the slash on your forearm.

You resisted the urge to pull back. It was a strange dichotomy: you were so accustomed to keeping to yourself, drawing as little attention as possible, and putting up walls between you and people who would no doubt betray you if it meant bettering their own circumstances; you also felt an intense desire to bear yourself to the man in front of you and be encouraged to do so honestly. If you had the wherewithal, you'd be concerned.

"Uhh," you said faintly. He saw you eyeing the gorget and finally acquiesced to your silent request. The leather came off easily under your grasp. Now in just his shirt, what little of his physique normally kept hidden by his coat now left little to the imagination. Leander was broad, solid, and physically imposing. The remaining leather straps across his chest and stomach only made your mind wander farther faster. When those were gone, you then only had his black shirt to remove.

Then, after some struggle, that was gone, too.

The torrent of emotions sloshing in your stomach churned and roiled. Leander was so clearly damaged, and yet so, so beautiful. You hated staring and yet couldn't bare to look away. What had once been a sizable scar on his cheek and arm now revealed itself to be one massive, monstrous scar across his entire left side. It ran deep (how could he even survive something like this?) a covered his arm, shoulder, pectoral, and neck in a criss-crossing web. There were plenty of other nicks and scrapes and smaller scars, too. The man -- always so sweet and compassionate -- had clearly endured intense pain.

Yet even with all of that he remained devilishly handsome. Toned, muscular. . . he obviously spent a lot of time honing his physique and had great genetics to boot. Unfair, really.

Your admiration meant you'd been openly gawking for some time. Leander laughed a little to try and ease the tension. "I heard chicks dig scars."

That got you out of your funk very quickly. He shushed your rushed apology (you had done that too much today) and waited patiently while you procured rags and soaked them in the bucket of water. His wide back took up most of your sight when you moved to sit behind him on the bed.

"It's gonna sting." You said. His substantial shoulders hunched and flinched when you began to clean the bite wound on his back and shoulder. Now that you'd seen all he'd been through, the bite seemed meager in comparison, despite how it looked like it came from a rapid dog rather than a person.

You worked in silence for some time. Who knew there'd be this many tooth marks? Leander hissed quietly when you pressed on one, causing blood to ooze freely down his back.

Guilt took your heart in its claws and squeezed. Why did you feel so bad? He'd clearly been through worse before. You began to spiral. The emotions from the alleyway -- perhaps now that you finally felt safe -- raced up from your gut and into your throat and mouth. In no time at all water pooled at the bottom of your eyes and you were having a hard time staying silent. No one needed to deal with your silly emotions.

"Hey."

It was Leander. His good arm reached over his opposite shoulder to grasp your hand in a warm grip. Such a gentle caress put your heart on life support. A steady roar of blood erupted in your ears, turning into a cacophony when he let go of your hand only to carefully wipe away a tear that had escaped.

"Breathe." He urged.

How could you?

Regardless, you tried. It became easier when you focused on the jade light softly emanating from his eyes. He continued to thumb at your jaw, cheek, and chin, almost undoing all your progress with the simplest of actions.

"I'm so sorry," you said again, "for what happened, for me, for-"

"You," he interrupted, leaning in and kissing your forehead, his lips a little dry but nonetheless reverent, "never need to apologize for something you have no control over, okay? No one blames you, and if they do, tell them to talk to me."

He smirked. Against your will, the corners of your mouth lifted ever so slightly.

"Okay."

The rest of the cleaning went off without a hitch. It did, however, slow down considerably when you had to bandage the wound. Because of it's odd placement, you would need to anchor the bandages by wrapping around his arm, chest, and shoulder. Did you even have enough to fit around his bulky frame?

Your arms wrapped closely around him every time you wanted to pass the bandages around his front. Thankfully, Leander spared you from any of his usual teasing. You'd probably burst if he hadn't.

Heat continuously ebbed off of him and into your hands. It felt criminal for someone to look like this. . . and more criminal to hide it. How did Leander not have women hanging off his arms at all times?

Then again, the barkeep hinted that he did. Where were they? How was this man not married yet?

You tried to focus on your work instead of wondering about his private life. It wasn't hard, really. After all, Leander's physique was about all you could see. Large trapezius muscles held together toned shoulders, his arms were built, and his forearms veiny. His body fat must have been in a single digits, and his back muscles, prominent yet smooth under lightly freckled skin. . .

Again, criminal.

You swear you were doing final adjustments to the wrappings. You weren't intentionally stroking the large scar on his opposite shoulder. It just happened that you touched it accidentally.

Leander shuddered and worked through a shaky inhale. You retreated, afraid you did something wrong, only for him to quickly ease your worries.

"You're okay. It's just. . ." he exhaled, "sensitive."

Against better judgement, you moved to touch it again. How had Leander become the one person you were brave enough to get close to? He could have anyone, anytime, and yet, here he sat, patient and prone while you satisfied your curiosity and the overwhelmingly natural need for human connection. Your hands spanned the extend of the scar. First, his arm, which he lifted a little to give you better access. Your fingerpads danced up his tricep, almost fascinated when it turned and flexed. Then, you moved up to his shoulder, gently brushing the lines of scar tissue and ghosting along the changes from light to dark skin. The juncture of his neck and shoulder seemed to get the worst of it; so dense was the hatchings of scar tissue you could scarcely see any unharmed skin at all. What could have made such marks? Could it have been something physical, or magical?

Leander couldn't take it anymore when your fingers wandered to where the scar wrapped around his throat. If he let you continue, he didn't think he'd be able to keep himself in check.

Quickly he took you hand in his, dismissing your worries by rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. "Careful, sweetheart. We're supposed to be taking it easy. You can't rile me up like that."

Shame made you retreat. Getting off the bed, you moved to gather the unused materials and set them across the room. Your back was to Leander, and yet, though he made no sounds, you could sense him closing the distance behind you. It made the back of your neck break out in tingles and shivers. You could feel the heat from his bare chest at your back when you stood.

For a moment you didn't dare move, acutely aware of the imposing figure behind you. It made your skin zing.

Leander all but whispered your name into your ear. When you turned, somehow expecting danger, all he did was take your arm in his hands and move to inspect the cut you'd sustained.

"Can you tell me what happened?" He asked.

You swallowed in an attempt to ease the dryness at the back of your throat. "I - the guy, from before, he. . ."

For a moment you thought about lying. To ease his worries, to get this over with, to satiate some irrational fear that getting him angry would have dire consequences, who knew, but in the end you decided the truth would be best.

"They saw me with Ais. Wanted to teach me a lesson, I guess? They saw the bandages - I told them not to, I did - but they unwound them. When they saw my curse, they tried to - to cut off my arm, as a trophy."

You couldn't meet his eyes. It surprised even you how nonchalant you sounded. After all, this wasn't the first time someone had something like that; it wasn't even the worst you'd heard.

Suddenly Leander took you in his arms and pulled you into his chest, arms deftly securing you against him. You were shocked, to say the least, and rigid. Only when he rubbed your back and you'd gotten a chance to inhale his scent did you manage to relax.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner. I can't imagine what that must have been like. If I could, I'd never let out of my sight."

That would be impossible. You knew that, and yet, the sentiment alone was enough to force you into a moment of vulnerability.

Nestling into his skin should have been embarrassing, but he merely held you tighter when you did it.

"I think you can imagine." You said, muffled into his skin. He pulled away, fixing you with a look of confusion, head tilted in question, until he saw your eyes glancing at his scar.

"Oh, this?" He tried to brush off with a laugh. "Its really not that bad. I just-"

Leander stopped. When you looked at him, you saw that he'd begun staring off into space, unmoving except for the rapidly increasing rate of his breathing. His eyes didn't move even when you called his name. Then, they began to glow. At first you weren't sure, but now, without a doubt, you watched them brighten until they were as intense as candlelight. With one touch of your skin to his, he erupted into an explosions of movement.

His hand flew up to cover his nose and mouth and he turned away, creating space however he could. You tried to bring him back to face you, to help however you could, only for him to snatch his hand away.

"Don't touch me!"

Pain tore at your heart. "Leander? I don't understand? Did I do something-"

"No!" He interrupted, his face obscured by his hand and the hair falling over his eyes. "You didn't - just - you need. . ."

"Need to do what? Should I get someone?"

"No, no. I'll be fine. You need to leave, now."

Kicking you out of your own room? You'd never seen him act anywhere near as bad as this. It was such a turn that you didn't even think this was a way to somehow be rid of you. If it was, there'd be no way his pain and anguish would be this believable. His shoulder line rose and fell swiftly, like he was laboring every breath. He'd begun to shake violently, too. Despite his words, you didn't make ay attempt to leave. He'd done so much for you. How could you leave him in a clear state of distress?

Just as quickly as he regressed, Leander now settled into a calm stillness. The breathing and shaking disappeared entirely. Too calm. This was too calm. The hairs all over your body rose defensively. You backed away when he stood back up to his full height. Even if you wanted to leave, he was now between you and the door. No place to go, no way to bring back the caring soul that had left you behind.

Shakily, you ventured one word into the open air, realizing you were giving yourself up to the creature across from you. "Leander?"

#leander touchstarved #touchstarved leander #touchstarved x reader #leander x reader #io has ideas

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lilac-den · 10 months

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screaming twirling my hair at the dolos prompt fr. by any chance, are you Malaysian Chinese, bc when I saw the term vinegar 吃醋I had some suspicions hehe.. if you don't wanna answer for privacy sake it's fine and I'm sorry for invading it, just happy to see a fellow Malaysian Chinese in the if community if you are! love your story SM!!

No worries! And yes, I'm Malaysian Chinese!

Unfortunately, I can't speak Chinese, Cantonese or Hokkien ;u; I'm shit at them. I know about the vinegar thing is cuz I read Mo Dao Zu Shi (Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation) by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu (Would recommend for those looking for angst and danmei XD)

Thank you for the love, anon! 💜

#author rambles

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anoncausewhynot · 1 year

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Ayo homie B-) this is what I wrote in an attempt to get out of writers block- I hope you like it <3 This is just for you <3333

WARNING:CRACK GAY KISSING HAREM

Ship: Mammon x CARLLLLLL (Fuck dolos)

Mammon came out of no where and kissed carl on the lips making him fall in love with him. Dolos froze in shock as Carl finally pulled away from their little make out session.

The avatar of greed gave the shocked shadow being a peace sign and and grab carl's hand. A portal came out of no where and Mammon brought the masked man with him back to devildom.

Back in devildom, mammon got down on one knee as he pulled up a small box- the perfect size for a ring. Carl gasped bringing his hands to cover his mouth, totally forgetting about Dolos. His eyes shimmer with love for this demon as Mammon opened the box slowly, "Will you..."

Mammon got off of his knee and pulled a piece of paper from the box. He continued to unfold the paper until it was back to it's normal size of 8.5 by 11. Carl blinked in confusion. Mammon gave him the paper and as the 6'4 human read it he continued,

"...Be part of my harem?" Carl finished reading as he said that. Tears brimmed the corner of his eyes as he jumped into the demon's arms, "Of course! I thought you'd never ask!"

In the background God wrote down carl's name because he was now part of the Mammon harem which consisted of Solomon, Diavolo, SILVER (THATS MEEEE), and a heck load of other mammon stans and simps. Good to know that Mammon now got another boyfriend.

And they lived happily ever after (tho it's said that Dolos is still standing confused in the dark).

I love this story so much, thank you Silver it's amazing TT TT

#answering asks #CARL!!#mammon #obey me #POOR DOLOS!!#Carl X MammoN????#i cried a little when i read this story #favorites

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frontproofmedia · 30 days

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Dolo Flicks: Immaculate Review: Sydney Sweeney Takes Center Stage

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By Hector Franco

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Published: March 28, 2024

Sydney Sweeney’s performance elevates Immaculate

Religious-based horror films are often cannon fodder for movie studios. They are usually released in January at the beginning of the year, in the doldrums of the movie release schedule. With a few exceptions, most don't do well at the box office and are critically panned, either forgotten or on the worst-of-the-year lists.

However, for a part of the world that has become increasingly less religious over the last few decades, the dogma and rituals of a religion can be viewed as disturbing if unfamiliar. Keeping a simple structure and utilizing catholicism's ritualistic nature to its advantage, Immaculate never overstays its welcome with its 90-minute runtime.

Immaculate is directed by Michael Mohan and written by Andrew Lobel. The film follows Cecilia (Sydney Sweeney), a young nun invited to stay at an Italian convent and care for nuns during their final days. As time passes, Cecilia finds that the sanctuary isn't what it seems, with evil lurking beneath. Unexplainable occurrences happen around her, including finding out she is pregnant despite never having sexual relations.

Sweeney is best known for her roles on hit television shows such as Euphoria and 'Everything Sucks!' and is one of the most popular working actresses today. As one of Immaculate's producers, the film is a vehicle for her to showcase her talents and range as the film's primary focus. While horror isn't a genre that usually garners high praise from critics or award nominations, it does have the potential to provide an actor with a dedicated fanbase. Sweeney's performance in Immaculate is the film's greatest attribute and is reason enough to warrant a viewing.

Immaculate does use an occasional jump scare but never ventures into obnoxious territory that can take viewers out of the film. The film's opening does give away the convent's nefarious nature, with a nun being buried alive. However, Immaculate does take its time unraveling piece by piece the secrets of the convent and those behind it. The movie's structure uses a chapter format based on Cecilia's pregnancy trimesters.

One of Immaculate's influences is 1968s Rosemary's Baby, as it uses a sense of dread that something more sinister is coming as each chapter passes. Adding to the dread and isolation is the relatively small cast of characters that prove to be fanatical and woefully ignorant about what is truly happening. Small and important events occur, such as Cecilia witnessing a friend have her tongue cut out by a hooded figure, a fellow nun named Isabela attempting to drown her in a fit of jealousy over the pregnancy, and a failed escape to a hospital by faking a miscarriage by killing a chicken.

Immaculate's first two acts work in building a finale that may divide audiences. After barely escaping the clutches of the convent and Father Sal Tedeschi (Alvaro Morte) through the convent's underground catacombs, Cecilia gives birth to her baby. The film doesn't give away how the baby looks or answer whether it's a demon or human. Here is where Sweeney is at her most visceral, showing the grit needed to give birth and having to make a decision that no mother wants to make.

Overall, Immaculate is a horror film that highlights Sweeney's talents. It won't be considered a classic in the genre, but by keeping the story simple and focusing on its star's performance, it will be remembered as an unexpected entrant as one of 2024's best horror films.

3.5/5****

(Featured Image: Neon)

#HF #Immaculate #Neon #Sydney Sweeney #Horror #Religion

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princessmeepa · 5 months

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Can you tell the difference game from mine version or LO/RS version

Note that I do not own the characters from the Greek Myth, I was doing this for fun.

My Nyx: Note this is an old art of her that I drawn her, when I was 16

Nyx is the primordial goddess of night, she is the wife of Erebus, she is the mother of the twins Thanatos and Hypnos, Moros, Keres, Momus, Oizys, Hesperides, Moirai, Nemesis, Apate, Philotes, Geras, Eris, Styx, Dolos, Ponos, Euphrosyne, Epiphron, Continentia, Petulantia, Misericordia, Pertinacia, and she is Zeus’ worst nightmare.

Likes: her children, her darling husband Erebus, bedtime or a good story, looking at the stars, reading bedtime story to Eros (when he was little or when he was a primordial god), and drinking tea.

Dislikes: Zeus, her love ones being hurt from Zeus and monsters.

Friends/Allies: Erebus, her children, Eros (when he was a primordial god), Psyche (because she maybe defendant from Eros’ formal lover), Gaia, Uranus, Hades, Persephone, and all the primordial gods.

Enemies: Zeus (because he rapes her sons and Eros) and Tartarus.

Personally: She is a very wise and a kindhearted young woman, who loves her family deeply and she will never abandon her own children, she loves her husband Erebus deeply and she is the one who erased Eros’ memory, when he was a primordial god, to keep him safe from Zeus and Tartarus.

LO Nyx

She is the type who will abandoning her own children to let some else playing house with them, while she is doing want ever she wants, because RS again hates Wholesome milf from Greek mythology and she is ugly to look at, I don’t know if RS is trying to copy Kokushibo from Demon Slayer or what, in the myth says she is beautiful, not Ugly? Hades Nyx is a real milf and she is pleasing to look at, then this Kokushibo wanna be.

#anti lore olympus #anti lo

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pikpaz-15 · 5 months

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ESPAÑOL

Malenti algunas veces se pregunta ¿por qué nació así?

En la forma que Malenti sufre por esto es recordar de como los ángeles y demonios le asían bullyn esto provocó que Malenti intentaba suicidarse, pero por su poder no podía morir sus padres le dijeron que si está sufriendo por eso que le dijeran.

A Malenti no le gusta mostrar sus sentimientos todos los años mostraba una cara fría a todos me nos a Ivlis ya que desde que se conocieron ella poco a poco se blando con él.

Pero en la actualidad Malenti ya recuperada no puede recordad de como desapareció y cuánto tiempo estuvo en el lugar, Malenti se siente mal por dejar a Ivlis, a Rieta, a Emalf y al pequeño Adauchi que ya no es pequeño.

Ivlis le dice que no es su culpa el que haya echo su desaparecimiento quería usar su poder, aunque no savia quien era, pero Ivlis piensa que asido su padre Siralos ya que él puede sentir las energías y de seguro sintió el poder de Malenti siendo muy poderoso ya que puede controlar a los dioses.

Aunque Malenti se sienta así sus deseos de deshacerse de la vida son grandes a Ivlis no le gusta que su amiga se sienta así ya que ella le salvo su vida y es su única a acompañante que le entienda su dolor, y no quiere sentí de perder a alguien importante para él desde que desapareció su vida a cambiado.

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INGLES

Malenti sometimes wonders why he was born this way?

The way Malenti suffers from this is remembering how the angels and demons bullied him. This caused Malenti to try to commit suicide, but because of his power he could not die. His parents told him that if he is suffering from that, they should tell him.

Malenti does not like to show his feelings. Every year he showed a cold face to everyone except Ivlis since since they met she little by little became soft on him.

But now that Malenti has recovered, she cannot remember how she disappeared and how long she was there. Malenti feels bad about leaving Ivlis, Rieta, Emalf and little Adauchi who is no longer little.

Ivlis tells him that it is not his fault that he made his disappearance. He wanted to use his power, although he did not know who he was, but Ivlis thinks that his father Siralos grabbed him since he can feel the energies and surely felt Malenti's power being very powerful since he can control the gods.

Although Malenti feels this way, her desire to get rid of life is great, Ivlis does not like that her friend feels this way since she saved her life and is her only companion who understands her pain, and she does not want to feel like losing to someone important to him since he disappeared his life has changed.

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Eso es todo por eso la imagen está en ingres y español, Y la descripción sobre este acto. Les diré que Malenti es alguien que comprende su acto, pero cuando se trata de su problema de vivir es muy malo sus padres la han llevado a terapia, pero en ninguna le funciona solo Malenti puede tranquilizarse ese dolor de vivir que tiene, Ivlis y sus subordinados que son Rieta y Emalf también saben ese dolo de ella y la han ayudado para que no sienta más el dolor, pero cuando Adauchi era pequeño le ha ayudado mucho que se ha olvidado de cómo se sentía el dolor suyo.

Quien dicen que los niños si ayudan a los adultos olvida cosas.

Espero que les gusta esto y mostrare como era la verdadera forma de Malenti de pequeña y adulta.

Adiós los quiero mucho

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That's all that's why the image is in Ingres and Spanish, AND the description about this act. I will tell you that Malenti is someone who understands her act, but when it comes to her problem of living, it is very bad. Her parents have taken her to therapy, but none of it works. Only Malenti can calm down the pain of living that she has, Ivlis and her Her subordinates, Rieta and Emalf, also know about her pain and have helped her so that she no longer feels the pain, but when Adauchi was little, it helped her so much that she forgot what her pain felt like.

Whoever says that children do help adults forgets things.

I hope you like this and I will show what Malenti's true form was like as a child and as an adult.

Goodbye I love you very much.

#ivlis okegom #Malenti

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queenofcandynsoda · 5 months

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Multiverse OC: Agnes Helvig

Agnes Helvig

Names: Real name is hidden away/[REDACTED], Agnes Glöckner (disliked), Agnes Helvig

Aliases: Xochitlicue (El Dorado), Sybella (Mesopotamian), Omarosa (Babylon), Dwura (Assyria), Onatah (Akkadian), Devorah (Old Hebrew), Wadjet (Ancient Egyptian), Hecate/Hekate (Greek), Trivia (Roman), Sassa (Old Norse), Gabija (Baltic), Avia Trivia (Sol Fertilis)

Titles: Mother of Witches and Warlocks, Giver of Magic, Goddess of Witchcraft, Ghost Goddess, Woman in the Crossroads, The One Who Can Not Be Judged, The One Who Protects, The White-Haired Seer, The Woman with Golden Eyes, Serpent Goddess, The First Witch, The Woman Who Wants to Be Forgotten, The Uncanny Crone (by the Church of Blood), The Mysterious Benefactress, The Fiery Maiden, The Ancient Virgin (can no longer use), The Creature that Won’t Die, Grandmother of the Ayran Race (disliked), Reborn Queen of the Great Earth, Stingy Bitch (by John Constantine)

Age: 100,000+ (Chronologically), Mid-20s (Physically)

Gender: Female

Height: 5’8” (173 cm)

Birthday: Unknown

Race: Half-Cosmic/Underworld Goddess and Half-Demon Goddess

Residence: El Dorado (partially, currently), Semi-nomadic, Buto, Egypt (formerly), Selinunte, Sicily, Italy (formerly), Viking era Denmark (formerly), Lithuanian countryside (formerly), Kutha (birthplace)

Relatives: Ereshkigal (Biological mother, deceased), Nergal (Biological father, estranged), Inanna (maternal aunt), Nergina Fritz (Half-sister), Aunt Sis Fritz (Step-mother), Nyx (adoptive mother), Nyx’s children [Aether, Hemera, Moros, Dolos, Thanatos, Hypnos, Oneiroi, Momus, Oizys, Charon, the Hesperides, The Fates [Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos], Nemesis, The Keres, Apate, Philotes, Geras, Eris, Amitola/Lucinda] (adoptive siblings), Twilight (adoptive niece by Amitola/Lucinda), Dr. Sigmund Glockner (Ex-husband, former captor), Xocoatl (Current Husband), Sehkmet, Bastet, Hathor, and Maat (foster sisters), Circe (adoptive daughter), Medea (adoptive daughter; disowned) Medea’s sons (adoptive grandchildren, deceased), Diedrich Glöckner (biological son, with Glockner), Malaea Koi (Granddaughter), The Cuckoos (Genetic Grandchildren), Tochtli (biological daughter, with Xocoatl)

Occupation: Goddess of Magic, Ghosts, Crossroads, the Moon, Travel, Mysteries, Hidden Passages, Fertility, Rebirth, and Gold (currently), Experiment (formerly), Goddess of Protection and Reunification (Egyptian, formerly), Goddess of Magic, Crossroads, and Ghosts (Greek/Roman, formerly), Virgin Goddess of Fire, Home, and Family (Baltic, formerly), Seer (Nordic, formerly)

Likes: Her Family, Xocoatl, Nyx, Offerings, Order, Rabbits, Gold, Reading new books, Modern Technology, Medicine, Kleicha, Chocolate, Tea, Traveling, The Underworld, Playing the Lyre, Animals, Dancing Dislikes: SIGMUND GLOCKER, National Unity Party, Witch Trials, Anyone who disrespects her, Mad Scientists, Being Trapped, Church of Blood, Grave Robbers, Gods’ Arrogance, Demons, Angels, John Constantine’s Antics, Forbidden Arts

Appearance: Often, Agnes is seen with waist-length golden hair and cyan eyes. Her skin appears silvery with a holographic shimmer. It is impossible to determine which race or ethnicity she is. Her eyes would glow golden whenever she used her magic. She has several surgical scars around her torso and upper legs from years of being the “wife” and test subject of Glockner. Those scars could not fade away regardless of what Agnes did. Sometimes, her eye colors vary from purple to red to green. She would have different hairstyles depending on the occasion.

Causal: Agnes currently wears a blue-purple sun dress with golden embroidery of the sun and moon. She also wears a pair of black sandals. Other times, she wears a purple short-sleeved blouse with dark blue high-rise jeans and a pair of black boots.

Young: As a child, Agnes would wear a black tunic with silver accents, given to her by Nyx.

El Dorado: While staying with Xocoatl in El Dorado, she wears a white tunic with blue and violet accents and a white skirt/loincloth. She also wears turquoise earrings, a pair of golden arm bands, gold bangles, a gold and turquoise necklace, and two gold rings on her left hand.

Mesopotamian: As Sybella, she wears a white tunic dress with a violet shawl around her. She would have a pair of gold earrings and a necklace.

Egyptian: As Wadjet, she wears a green regal sheath dress with a scale design and a red robe with feathers and hieroglyphic patterns depicting guardianship. She also has a royal blue blindfold that covers her eyes in a crisscrossed way. Her wings resemble a falcon’s and she has what seems like closed eyelids. Her jewelry consists of a golden collar, ornate bracelets, a pair of serpent anklets, and a golden crown that has the uraeus with the Sun on the center.

Hebrew: As Devorah, she wears a long blue tunic with a violet cloak. She also wears a white mitpaḥat, a pair of silver earrings, and wool sandals.

Greco-Roman: As Hecate, Agnes wore black undergarments with a purple cloak. It is attached together with silver ornaments. She is always barefoot. Her physical appearance was greatly altered during this time. She had three faces and six arms. Two of them held a torch in each hand as one held keys and another held a dagger. Behind her head, there is a strophalos.

Baltic: As Gabija, Agnes wore a traditional red Baltic dress with a white shirt and a pair of black shoes. Her necklace is silver and her dress has a fiery movement. Her necklace is actually a grass snake that wraps itself on her neck.

Nordic: As Sassa, Agnes wore a blue hangerok with yellow and white ornaments around it. She also wore a pair of brown leather boots. She often wears a shawl during the harsh winter. During this time, her hair was very long. This allows her to fuse her hair to the floor and the walls of her private longhouse to see the legends of the Nordic Gods without directly interacting with them.

Sol Fertilis: In Sol Fertilis, she dressed as a Gamma Plus. Her clothes are a purple bodice with a tiered skirt, a pair of purple heels, a purple mantilla, and a purple wedding ring. She also wears a golden necklace with an amethyst and a pair of golden earrings. The clothes are from Ivoire, which is a luxury clothing brand. Her hair is braided in a Minoan style and covered in pearls.

Pre-capture: In 1920s Norway, Agnes wears a long, simple white dress with a girdle of vines and flowers. Her hair is braided with lilies of the valley and leaves with a wreath of white water lilies. She is often mistaken as a Skogsrå.

Capture: After being captured, Agnes was forced to wear “Ostanized” conservative clothes. Usually, she had to wear a teal dress with black stockings and black low heels. Her physical appearance deteriorated heavily during this time. Her hair had become stringy, her eyes become glassy, her skin had begun to crack and pale, and appeared malnourished.

Tomb: After her false death, Agnes wore a royal blue court dress made of satin, adorned with golden embroidery. The bodice is fitted with a voluminous skirt, complemented by a matching dress. A mantua in the same hue and adorned with golden embroidery drapes over the gown. She also has black dress shoes that also have gold embroidery. Glockner had her wrapped in Germanic and Old Zandian runes to make sure that she would not be able to move. After years underground, the dress looks tattered.

[REDACTED]: In a certain form, her hair becomes white, while it is burning hot, as her eyes become completely black in the shade where light can not be reflected. It looks like black tears come out of her eyes. The ends of her mouth extend to her ears and fangs form on it. The scars around her torso form to become mouths and have sharp teeth there as well. A pair of falcon wings appear on her back as eyes appear on them. She gains four pairs of horns. Her feet turn into falcon talons. Agnes wears a long purple Mesopotamian dress, which exposes her stomach and legs, and a black shawl. The edges of her shawl have golden linings and onyx. Her nails become black and sharp as if there is poison coming from them. For jewelry, she has a golden necklace with a pendant that has her personal sigil, a pair of obsidian earrings, three golden armcuffs, and a gold bracelet with runes. Finally, she wears a gold crown with the symbols of the moon, including crescents and a full moon, with stars made of obsidian and a long gold chain mail covering the upper portion of her hair.

Personality: Agnes is an aloof, studious, and quiet woman who has years of knowledge and experience. She has shown to others that she is hands-off, considering she rarely, if ever, interferes with the affairs of mortals and it is not uncommon for her to ignore calls for her. This is not the case with her close friends and family. Agnes takes her long-standing position as the Goddess of Magic very seriously as she is why magic exists among mortals. She refuses to interfere or get involved with mortals’ affairs unless it is necessary, such as dealing with inter-dimensional beings, including demons, mortals tampering with the natural order, unauthorized resurrection, and dangerous warping of reality, among others. She is often annoyed at being worshiped since she wants to remain hidden, especially since the 20th century. At the same time, she does not prevent it. Agnes deeply loves Diedrich, despite him being the result of the brutality from Glockner, and deeply regrets not being there in his life. She also wants to be a caring grandmother to the Cuckoos. She is rather cautious towards angels and demons since they are naturally opposed to her. Despite her cautiousness about demons, she is willing to help cambions. She has severe distrust towards any scientist due to the trauma and torture she endured under Glockner. She particularly hates scientists who use their technology to abuse others and is willing to either kill or maim them for that. Agnes is very interested in modern technology as she tends to infuse her magic with her cell phone, TV, laptop, wifi router, etc. Since marrying Xocoatl, she has become happier and more open as she is taking steps to recover from the trauma. She is highly distrustful towards Nergal and does not believe he is capable of changing. However, she cares deeply about Nergina and Aunt Sis, being concerned about their well-being.

#agnes helvig #multiverse oc #multiverse #DC AU #Grimm Adventures of Billie & Manny AU #Grimm Adventures of Billie & Manny #Spy X Family AU #FOP AU #TND AU #Courage the Cowardly Girl AU #Danni Phantom AU #Hazbin Hotel AU #Gravity Falls AU #Sol Fertilis #AAnA AU

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moonlit-flowerfield · 1 year

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Hello yes new au again. Supernatural AU

I actually only have one art piece for it rn and I'm like 98% sure I'm not making more. :') I almost had a meltdown over the one I made so.

So, overview of the au is there are three major supernatural breeds(species? No clue what else to call it): Kitsunes [and their offset subspecies], Dragons [and their subspecies], and Angels [as Demons were "made" by Lucifer (a fallen angel), they actually end up being categorized as a subspecies of Angel here].

There are obviously half-breeds (human-supernatural hybrids[[if a half-breed has a child with a supernatural or human naturally, it would also still be called a half-breed) but it doesn't matter in the longest run other than powers passed down through genes.

So, with that outta the way, the characters!

Patton — Kitsunes offset: Shiyugi. Young Shiyugi pure blood (born from two of the same species). In his Shiyugi form (fox-looking), he is 4 foot (122cm) exact from the shoulder. His weight is about 85 pounds (38.5 kg), 5 pounds (2.26 kg) of which are just fur. His fur is hypoallergenic (woo), he's actually really thin body wise. He's also got super sensitive ears and tail. In the language department, he knows three languages naturally: English (as he was born in California), Japanese (due to his overarching species), and Shiyugian (the language of the Shiyugi). And the texture of wet fur makes him so upset. ((He is the only one who has a design, and it's of him in his fox form.))