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plutothe-pup · 2 months

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Nicknames: Pluto, Milo, Min Age: 19 Birthday: June 30th, 2004 Pronouns: He / His Magic Status: Mundus - Cursed

General TW: Abuse / Anxiety / Depression / Animal Abuse / Death Mentions / Injuries / Scar Mentions / ETC.

Overview:

Mother: Choi Hayul - Deceased Father: Gae Ji-hun - Deceased Mother’s Occupation: Stay at Home Mother / Market Clerk Father’s Occupation: Huntsclan Member / "Accounting/Business" Family Finances: Upper Middle Class. Other Close Family: - Pip Seville (Brother? Hyung? Sibling of dog-adoption?) - Amy Seville (....figuratively adoptive...aunt??????) - Gae Seong-Min (Grandfather) - Presumed Deceased - Lee Kyung-Soon (Grandmother) - Deceased. (He was named after his grandparents (Kyung-Soon + Seong-Min = Kyung-Min) Pets: Booboo (Pip's Dog) Home Life During Childhood: Strict. He grew up under 'law and order' kind of parenting from his father and grandfather. His purpose and path were incredibly clear from the start and he was to be molded into a warrior for the clan. Everything was precise and everything was calculated. That was all he had known from a very young age. However it did not mean that he did not receive warmth and love from his mom and grandmother. What little freedom from the discipline he knew best usually came from them. What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like: Clean. Orderly. Pretty much like a military-raised kid's room might look. Very neutral and devoid of anything 'childish' or kid-like. He had a bed that was always well made and kept, a dresser without any personal effects, and a desk. Any Sports or Clubs: Just the Huntsclan and various huntsclan training as a kid. Once in Swynlake, he wanted to join any club he could (SSIC / Swimming / Outdoors Club / Theater Club / Chorus / F.R.O.G) Favorite Toy or Game: He didn't have a lot of toys growing up. The only thing he really remembers is a small stuffed bear that he was given at birth. He kept it all through his childhood, always sat neatly on his bed. However when he was six, his father took it away for being 'too old' to have stuffed animals. His mother had secretly kept it, and returned it to him when she found him again after his father's death. Unfortunately it was once again lost when he became a dog and he lost all of his possessions. Currently his favorite toy remains 'ducky'. A stuffed dog toy duck that he got from Sharon and managed to keep through to the Seville household. Schooling: Homeschooled by his family and the organization until he came to Swynlake. He then took one year at Swynlake Secondary. Unfortunately he flunked out due to an inability to conform to 'regular' schooling. Favorite Subject: Knife throwing as a kid. Science in Secondary. Popular or Loner: Loner. Nationality: American. (2nd Generation) Ethnicity: South Korean Accent: Northeast (Philly) Religion and beliefs: Christian (Doesn't go to church. Will still pray before bed) (he doesn't know why - no one has answered)

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: Kim Mingyu Movie/Era Representation: Currently 2024 Kim Mingyu for hair(subject to change based on hair styles), but honestly his face is probably more 2016 Mingyu. Milo still has a bit of a baby face. He hasn't quite grown into all of his sharp features yet. Complexion: Type III - Has light freckles and a few distinguishable moles on the tip of his nose, on his cheek under his eye. Think this photoshoot concept but the freckles are yanno, real.

Hair Colour: Dark Brown / Black Eye Colour: Deep Brown. Height: 6'2. Weight: 161lbs. (Currently lost weight / muscle mass from recovery) Build: Athletic / Toned Notable Features: Pronounced canine teeth (cute wittle fangs), line scars across both palms, missing pinky finger on right hand, scarring from impalement on right shoulder. Tattoos: He has a tattoo as a dog inside of his ear that one of the pounds gave him. It’s a simple number ‘1797′ and the word ‘PLUTO’. It stays with him when he transforms back to human, but now directly behind his ear. Considers getting others or at least covering up that one. Piercings: None - though he sometimes considers getting his ears pierced. Common Hairstyle: Depends on the length. Usually he has it brushed back regardless though (showing forehead) or has it parted with face framing pieces. (X) is his absolute favorite style to wear when length allows. (X) is his current (SHORT) style. Clothing Style: He hasn't quite developed a style so much yet. He still lets Pip dress him up and dictate what he wears a lot because it's easier and Pip's much more educated on the subject of fashion. Mannerisms: Head tilting, Pouting / pursing lips, biting his cheek/tongue, avoids eye contact, cracking knuckles, idle/absent shifting on feet, rubbing back of neck/hair/cheek when nervous. Tendency to mumble / has a lisp, covers mouth whenever chewing / laughing, tendency to keep looking over his shoulder/behind him, will 'reset' back to the default position of keeping his hands politely and respectfully tucked behind his back with straight posture. Usual Expression: Soft Smile.

Health

Overall (do they get sick easily)?: Sometimes. Milo's a fit individual with a good immune system, but he still suffers from time to time with ailments like fatigue, muscle weakness, nausea, etc - most of which stem from his recovering injuries, chronic lyme, or his anxiety. Unfortunately its become a habit for him to hide whenever he's feeling badly (from being a dog) but there are always signs. Physical Ailments: Weakness on right side (recovery from abrasive shoulder injury/torn rotator cuff), Right-Hand grip strength issues (missing right pinky), occasional tremors in right hand/arm. Disorders : PTSD (Undiagnosed), Anxiety (Undiagnosed). Neurological Conditions: Lyme Disease (PTLDS) Allergies: None that he knows of. Grooming Habits: Excellent! Boy did Milo hate not having control over his grooming habits as a dog, and it bothered the hell out of him with every owner (except Pip and Amy!!! Because Pip pampers his dogs more than anything else). Milo was always a clean hygienic person, but especially after his long stint as Pluto, now more than ever he is pretty anal about it. He can and will shower twice a day depending on what he was doing that day, he brushes his teeth more than twice a day, sometimes his hair is a mess, but it's always a clean mess. Otherwise, he follows Pip closely on a skin-care routine, keeps his nails trimmed and proper, and often cuts his own hair when he sees fit. Sleeping Habits: Light sleeper. Even though he can and will fall asleep anywhere (especially during a movie/if someone plays with his hair) (but seriously I mean ANYWHERE. Habit from being a dog. That means a stony ground, a tub, a closet, in the woods, etc), he very easily is disturbed from his sleep from the slightest things (a creaking floorboard, a car driving by, the sudden sound of silence, etc) Eating Habits: He used to be a good eater - and would have the appetite of a small army, eating three hardy meals a day when he could, or at the very least an excellent dinner as well as a good lunch or breakfast. He'd also be all about snacks and desserts. Ever since the Demon-Incident(TM), his surgeries, etc - his appetite has diminished, and he tends to only eat one small meal a day these days, and will turn down or not finish snacks, sweets, etc. Exercise Habits: Daily. Although stunted slightly due to his injuries, Milo's regular habit is to go to the gym daily if he can or at least engage in exercise daily. He loves to go for a run, and will often jog/run in the mornings or evenings throughout the town. He's currently back to his regular schedule, and is working on strength training three times a week to rehab his bad-side. Emotional Stability: Sensitive: Milo's got a large heart and wears his emotions on his sleeves. While he's not often quick to anger, he is quick to upset. Things that people say to him will bury under his skin and crack at his heart too easily. Though he usually is able to rebound and shake things off with a good night's sleep, it doesn't mean he isn't still affected by it. Body Temperature: As a human he runs cold and gets cold easily - as a dog, he's warm and cozy. Sociability: Milo's the shyest people person you'll ever meet. He both is a social butterfly and yet also incredibly shy and reclusive at the same time. He isn't a huge fan of opening up to people he doesn't know very well or in large groups, but he also is too nice to not initiate and reach out to strangers when the opportunity arises. He'll always put being friendly to others over his own discomfort and shyness.

Addictions: None Drug Use: None! Pip would kill him! (Also he isn't in a circle that would make this a problem. If he had bad influences around, it would be) Alcohol Use: Rare / Social if he has to but he would rather not.

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits: Using slang, mumbling to himself, using a non-mutual language, not getting enough sleep, skipping meals, criticizing himself, overworking, fidgeting, resource guarding (this is a joke, but like he gets uncomfortable when people touch his stuff and he doesn't want them to), mirroring others. Good Habits: Exercise Routine, Making his bed the second he's out of it, keeping shoes off in the house, maintaining his volume level, listening to others, Offering to/just helping without being asked, cleaning up after himself, being on time (early). Best Characteristic: Loyalty. Worst Characteristic: Either how stubborn he is or how naive he is. Worst Memory(s): Finding out his dad died. Watching his mom die. His first night in a shelter as a dog. Realizing he might never be human again. Being taken away from Sharon. His stay with Felix. The demon-incident. The entire summer of 2023, really. Best Memory: Being adopted by the Sevilles. Proud of: .....He's not sure. Embarrassed by: His curse. Driving Style: Doesn't. (But if he did, he would be a cautious, safe, but casual driver. One hand on the steering wheel, but constantly defensive driving/watching everything to make sure no one does anything stupid). Strong Points: Fast learner, Loyal, Flexible, Resourceful, Determined, Disciplined. Temperament: Phlegmatic. Attitude: Helper: Cheerful, supportive, sensitive, concerned Weakness: His willingness to trust people too easily. Fears: Thunderstorms. Doctors. Becoming a dog again. People he cares about getting hurt/dying. The Huntsclan finding him. Heights. Loud noises. Getting hurt. Getting trapped. Small spaces. Being abandoned. Running into past 'owners'. Running into Huntsclan members. Phobias: Being alone. Being touched. Silence. Secrets: Learning he can pay to break his curse. That Rose is the Huntsgirl. Being in/former member of the Huntsclan. Regrets: Becoming cursed. Fighting with Tony. Letting his guard down. Leaving Ruff to Fluff and not listening to Luca. Letting Pip down. Upsetting Pip. Upsetting Amy. Feels Vulnerable When: Talking about himself, his past or his family. When he talks about his curse. Pet Peeves: People watching videos without headphones, Talking over someone, disrespecting elders/parents/etc, Being rude in general, passive aggressive behavior. Conflicts: Making his parents proud, and being who his parents wanted him to be vs making Pip proud and being who he wants to be. Motivation: To be better. Short Term Goals and Hopes: To break his curse and to do well at his job and help Amy and Pip however he can. Long Term Goals and Hopes: To be happy, and surrounded by family and to see Pip accomplish his hopes and dreams. Sexuality: Bisexual, he thinks. He isn't sure. He thinks boys, girls, theys and gays are all pretty. Exercise Routine: Early Morning or late evening run (3-5 miles depending on how much time he has). When he goes to the gym he'll swap out his days and rotate through core, upper and lower body. He doesn't focus on cardio at the gym and instead focusing mainly on strength training / lifting. Occasionally he'll attempt things like yoga with Pip, but otherwise he'll do stretches before bed. Day or Night Person: Day. Specifically morning. He's a very 'up and at 'em' kind of guy. Probably because that was how it always was for him. Staying up late is a lot harder (which is why he hates time zones in baseball season). Introvert or Extrovert: Ambivert. Optimist or Pessimist: Optimist.

Likes and Styles:

Music: Milo's still kind of discovering this, but he is big into K-Pop just because it is comforting to him and it connects him a lot with his culture that he feels pretty removed from these days. He loves SVT (meta), EXO, Shinee, New Jeans, IU - pretty much anything Pip was into because he got a lot of his recs from him. He is not a BTS-Anti like Pip though. Otherwise, Milo's a big pop/rock fan. He likes stuff he can run to. He dislikes country. Books: .....idk if Milo has read a single book ever (dramatic but ... like real too) Magazines: ......idk if Milo has read a single magazine ever (not dramatic, do kids these days even know what a magazine is????? he literally probs doesn't) Foods: Gogi-jeon is his absolutely favorite little snack food ever in his entire life. He'll die by it. Otherwise though he really doesn't dislike a ton of food, so that's to say he will eat a lot without complaint (again, ingrained in him). He's a big meat eater, though he will sometimes make a slight face a fish (he doesn't like it, but will always eat it not to be rude). Drinks: Water. Iced americano. Animals: Dogs! He loves dogs! Though he likes most animals too! (He doesn't like cats) Sports: BASEBALL. Baseball is his favorite sport to watch AND to play. Social Issues: Milo is for the people. He thinks. He's liberal in reality, he supports all the usual issues and will stand up for what he thinks is right. He does have some things that stick a bit in his brain from childhood though, which is to say that he does dip on the anti-magick scale a fair bit. He does believe that there are dangerous magicks. He does believe that Vampires and Werewolves?????? Are NOT GOOD. They are BAD. He doesn't say this out loud, but he thinks it. Color: Red! He loves reds because he missed seeing that color so much as a dog, so any tints of red/pink/orange he adores. Clothing: As stated earlier: his fashion is 100% inspired/guided by Pip. He does dress pretty.... 'fancy' because of this though. Lots of layers and cute matching jackets/bright colors, button up shirts, etc. He is just as likely to be wearing jeans and a sweatshirt though. Jewelry: He wears matching friendship bracelets that he got for each one of his best friends (Pip, King, Luca, etc). Otherwise not usually wearing too much jewelry. It's expensive! Games: He's not a big gamer. He still just plays things on his phone (like BTS in the Seom, 2048, Wordle, tetris, Crossy Road. Websites: Youtube. Twitter. The Spill (Tumblr). TV Shows: Anything Gordon Ramsey (24hrs to hell and back, hotel hell, Hell's Kitchen, Kitchen Nightmares, etc). Great British Bake-Off, Movies: Honestly.... he's bad at movies. He falls asleep through them 100% of the time, so if you ask him his favorite, he'll have a tough time pulling one to the front of his mind to say. By default he's just started naming any movie filmed or based in Philly. Greatest Want: To break his curse. Greatest Need: To stay with Pip / Not to be alone.

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home: The Seville Household: At first he thought this was a very temporary situation, but at this point, he refers to it openly and easily as 'home' and it feels that way too. Safe and sound. Room Furnishings: Pip and Amy kindly 'sacrificed' the basement to become Milo's room - again, a short term solution that has long since just become permanent. He has a proper bed now and everything, which he keeps pushed up against the wall in the corner. Because the basement is still the 'party basement' - Milo doesn't really have much in terms of 'decoration' there. Not that he would really know how to decorate a room if he properly had one either though, since he never did as a kid. However, it still does feel homey to him, especially his bed, which he's kind of hoarded all things soft and fluffy onto. All of his stuffed animals he's gotten as gifts (or won at the fair) (and ducky ofc), and lots of blankets and pillows. He also has pictures of his friends taped on the wall beside his bed (him and Pip, him and Amy, him and King, Luca, Tae, Mim, Etc). He also still keeps the prom-baseballs that Luca made him on the mantle, as promised. The framed picture of his parents from Luca is also sitting beside his bed - so that he can say good morning and goodnight to them every day. Favorite Possession: Ducky. Most Cherished Possession: The sketch of his parents. Neighborhood: Tortuga Town or City Name: Swynlake. Relationship with Family: He's always had a good relationship with his family. Even growing up in a 'cult' household. He never had ill-feelings towards any of his family or parents. He didn't know anything other than what he had, and what he thought he had was love and support. Living now with Amy and Pip, he knows that maybe some of the things he grew up with were actually more on the line of cold and abusive, but he still does not want to see things that way and still loves his family very much despite struggling with the concept of everything he's learned. Car: He doesn't have one! Nor can he drive - though he considers asking Mim to teach him. Career: Line-cook at the Moon Market, serving up traditional Korean meals. Dream Career: He literally doesn't know. This is his problem. Dream Life: ......to be loved. Love Life: He refuses to have one. Talents or Skills: Fully Bilingual, Conversationally Tri-lingual. Archery. Knife throwing. Small arms combat. Hand to Hand combat. Self-Defense. Target Shooting. Gun Handling. Weapons combat. 'Dangerous Magic' hunting / poaching. Fairy / Mermaid / Elf poaching/hunting knowledge. Strength Training. Endurance. Agility. Stealth. Basic first aid. Basic wilderness survival. Piano. Basic singing/rapping. Intelligence Level: He's incredibly street smart, and in reality he is intelligent, just not in the 'book' aspect. He's a bad test taker/bad at sitting in classes and focusing there. He's amazing at hands on learning and quickly picks things up. As long as he can see and do. He's not stupid - he's just too trusting and too naive. Finances: Personally poor. Past Careers: Stocker/Register at Moon Market (Promoted). PA for Marie (She ghosted him after the security fiasco). Film Security for the Olive Bright Movie (Fired). Secondary Student (Dropped out). Future Huntsclan Protegee (Became Cursed and was banished/fled/etc) Past Lovers: None. (Unless you consider the fact he acknowledges he's in love with Luca but refuses to allow anything to come of it).

To the Audience: What are things you can't always describe about your character but want others to know?

Talking Style: I can't write it out, but always know that Milo has a pretty distinguishable lisp (stolen directly from his FC - so if you've ever heard Mingyu speak, imagine that. If you haven't, this song is one of the best examples, but I recognize it's hard to hear it when you're not constantly hearing the language/difference). While he's fluent in English, I also like to point out that it is his second language and he does struggle with some pronunciation and recalling words. Despite that, his accent is indescribably Philly. Which for those of you who don't know, is basically described as a 'southern accent that doesn't quite get there'. Or a combination of a NY/Chicago/Southern accent. Anyways, what I'm saying is, if this man is speaking english he kinda sounds like a douche tbh.

Respectful: Milo was raised incredibly disciplined and will almost always be reacting respectfully towards people. Expect that he greets everyone at all times with a small bow of his head at the very least, or a progressively deeper one with people he holds in higher regards.

Touch averse: Because of his curse, if Milo doesn't know you, he keeps his distance. He'll avoid shaking hands (now bc of his missing pinky more so than touch but still) and will step back if you step into his pre-determined space.

Pip: Assume if he's in a place with Pip that he's always pretty nearby. He genuinely is his shadow.

Other details:

Curse details:

With Pluto’s curse, any meaningful display of affection triggers him to turn back into a dog. This means, essentially anything more than holding hands with a person can put him back into his four-legged state. Cuddling, kissing, hugging, etc will all cause his curse to react. The length of time he’s spent in his dogsona is influenced in how much the affection meant to him. For example, if he truly loved the person he were engaging with, it would drastically lengthen the time in which he spent as a dog. Whereas if a stranger hugged him, he might just turn into a dog for a half an hour or so. There’s no known limit on how long he could stay as a dog, and has gone years since hugging his mother. However, unknown to Pluto - under his curse, any true love’s kiss will seal the curse forever, ensuring he’ll live as a dog until he dies. On the other hand - it’s resentment and hate and suffering that do the opposite. A truly spiteful and cruel act would break the curse indefinitely - and not that Pluto knows that, but he’s also certainly too good of heart to ever find that out….. What he's discovered through Pip/experimentations are the limits of said 'affection' and how indirect (through blankets/blocks/etc) seem to prevent the curse from taking affect. Milo is also uncertain, but thinks that every time his curse is triggered, that Pluto ages - and that his dog-age is not directly dependent on his real age/how long he spends as Pluto. Which means he's worried that constant re-triggers of his curse will quickly age-up his dog-self and kill him.

Milo's owner timeline:

Picked up by animal control shortly after escaping his mother's apartment.

Spent a month at an ASPCA in Philly getting a full work up before he was 'adoptable'. He considers this time his personal hell. He was still just a kid and it was one of the scariest things he ever went through, even to this day.

Milton: First owner (3 Months, Surrender for aggression/too loud/etc). Wanted a good hunting dog for the weekends out of Philly, but couldn't get Pluto trained no matter what he tried, took back to the shelter.

Sharon: Older single retired woman (2 years). Played Piano. Obsessed with plants. Little old lady who wanted a companion after her husband passed. Was incredibly sweet and one of Pluto's best memories. Where he got 'Ducky'. After two years with her, Sharon was taken to a nursing home and had to surrender Pluto when her kids refused to take him. One of the only owners he will talk about and regard kindly. He thinks about Sharon a lot and hopes she's alive and doing well.

Felix: Abusive. Short tempered. Criminal. (~1 Year). Wanted a 'guard' dog for his 'business'. Also considered the dog-fighting trade (but did not). Moved the pair of them to England when he had to run from a #situation. Milo eventually fought back against Felix, got loose, got picked up by animal control. Was nearly Euthanized but was saved by an anti-kill shelter protest that emptied the shelter and vowed to find homes for all animals at the time. Also one of the other scariest times of his life. He will not talk about this and genuinely is afraid he might run into this guy some day again.

Failed to Find a Home via this program/protest. Was transferred to another shelter and ended up in NTO.

Transferred to Gregory as a 'Last Chance' option - was moved to Ruff to Fluff and was trained/evaluated for adoption.

Was Adopted by Amy Seville.

Dog Form:

#muse #inspo #about #x; Milo #the milo-mega list of information #aka i finally put everything in one place and it's the mostly complete version #I did this for Gregory and maybe Roscoe but no one else #welcome to the club Milo #if u ever need to know something about milo #it's probs in here #chara sheet

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talenlee · 1 year

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The Szudetken Empires, Part II

This is a continuation of the previous post describing the Szudetken Empires peninsula in Cobrin’Seil.

Voolfardisworth, The Glimmering Net

Where the land becomes mountainous, the castles of Voolfardisworth start to jut up on various cliffs and high peaks, overseeing inevitably, valleys of small communities beneath them. Sometimes known as the Fard, the Fooly or the Fanged States, Voolfardisworth is an aristocratic nation composed of many different, widely distributed noble houses that would rather you not admit they’re vampires (and may even do something to make it so you can’t).

Architecture tends towards the ornate, the detailed, and the enduring. Artistic opinions in the Fard have been set for generations and there’s not a lot of new people coming into positions of power to change the way the nation should present itself. The most common colours to see decorating anything are deep blue and red, with some stark blacks and whites thrown in for variety. Windows tend to be high and narrow on castles, open and wide in towns, and often towns have very strict dictates on what they’re not allowed to do as it relates to things like, say, locking the windows at night in inconvenient ways.

This distribution of local lords overseeing small communities creates a scenario that looks familiar to most readers of the genre of vampire novels, where each town has a ruler that is, to some extent, a variety of weird, bad, or mad, and people develop their own coping mechanisms amongst them. What the people living here do not tend to realise, is that Voolfardisworth is a province that has been in cold war for generations. Every noble knows that their only potentials for advancement come at the ruin of another noble, whether near or far, and being part of their downfall is a great way to ensure you do not get any of the potential rewards presented by their demise.

The result is that for all that vampires rule the Fanged States, they also are avid developers of situations that create strong Vampire Hunters, who they ideally want to encourage to investigate other areas rather than their own. It’s very common for the Vampires living in a castle to be the subordinates of a Vampire living down in the town, as a sort of feint maneuver to protect the true lord of the manor from their own hunters, and hunters of other, nearby fiefdoms.

Also, for all that vampires in the Fard are assumed to be blood-drinkers, they’re actually a linked clan of Moroii — vampires who consume time. Victims of these vampires may wind up drained of blood (for style points), but more often than not, a Moroii that consumes a person will leave behind a corpse that looked like it died of old age.

If you came from Voolfardisworth, you probably have very strong opinions on subterfuge and manipulation, have no good reason to trust people in authority, but have done work for people in those positions of power to make ends meet somehow. You probably also know, in a way that outsiders nor nobles ever do, that it’s pronounced Vul-szy.

Inspiration: Dracula, classic Vampire movies, Van Helsing stories, the British Monarchy

The Osteon, Ribs of the Empire

Situated towards the centre of the peninsula (probably), the Osteon, known also as the Ivory State and the Throne of Chalk, is one of the nations with a strong bent towards industrialisation and mass production, but prefer to rely on human-proficient tasks, owing to having an enormous supply of tireless laborers. Osteon architecture tends towards the bleached white, with highly contrasting frames of dark wood, and porcelain and marble all meant to glimmer and shine under heavy moonlight.

The Osteon is largely a form of necropolity or oligarchy, with a specific ruling class concentrating the bulk of power. Unlike other parts of the Szudetken, though, this class are mostly necromancers, specialising in the practice of bone magic. Rather than the hood-and-robe style of necromancer who raises the dead through spiritualisations and incantations, though, the Osteon’s necromancers — who often betray their origin by referring to themselves as necropaths or mortirian — style themselves as more practitioners of a kind of surgery or science. They tend towards leather smocks and coats to protect themselves from ambient spray and sloughing flesh, and experts often travel far and around looking for boneyards and mass graves as if explorers looking for mines of oil or gold.

The Osteon’s capital city, The King’s Lattice, is notable too for being one of the largest cities on the peninsula. Literally nobody knows anyone who lives there. Missives come from the city, but whatever overclass they have or nobility that operate out of it, they are so insulated from common operations that you could go to the city and live outside the walls for a month without ever seeing another person who wasn’t doing the same thing. Even the messages sent out of the city are sent on skeletal birds as couriers, their hollow bones holding written notes.

If you come from the Osteon, you probalby keenly felt the difference between those who could become apprenticed to a necropath or mortirian and those who could not. Many unskilled labor positions are taken by skeletons, which means those humans trying to work similar jobs live extremely poor lives and are marginalised. It’s not uncommon for young people to do things like sell their teeth to necromancers or arrange insurance plans where on their deaths their bones will go a particular agent who pays them a stipend in life.

Inspirations: Heavy metal album covers showing lots of skeletons

Seibelmarsh, the Silver Girdle

Of all the nations of the Szudetken, Seiebelmarsh is the one with the most consistant actual territory, occupying as it does the northern coast of the peninsula. It deals the most with the outside world, too, with trade ships stopping by the coast as they round from the northern crest of the world, bringing goods from there, around to the countries they’re ‘really’ meant for. Still, for centuries, Siebelmarsh was the only point of access for the entire peninsula for trade.

The capital, Beltane is a massive port city squatting at the neck of a river delta. It’s too shallow a bay for the truly immense hulk tradeships to draw up in, so instead, the hulks port at one of the satellite docks, and then riverboats bring the trade goods back and forth. And trade they do, with fish, refined organic oils, compounds dredged up from the mountain mines by the escarpments that hem them in. Then there’s the darker trades – since Seibelmarsh is a place where the rules for regulating how magical research should or shouldn’t be done, it is often a place where books and texts of spells, worth immense amounts, are traded by academics who have come only to indulge their study in a place with a willingness to follow research wherever it goes.

That however is the central hubs of anxious knowledge, and the majority of Seibelmarsh is in its population smeared out along the coast in the fishing villages that absolutely do not want the trade ships to stop there. No, they’re a people familiar with the sea and the stars, and they don’t like outsiders. Explorers and academics from the cities sometimes travel out to the villages, and find an entire nation defined by people with deep expertise, strange rituals, and a deep distrust of outsiders.

If you come from Seibelmarsh, then you probably know some strange and old secret of your people in your village; a secret or a deal that most people you know signed on for, as part of the protection against the creeping darks of the stars above or the seas below. The mindset of Seibelmarsh are people who think of life as tenuous, dangerous and brutal, a thin ribbon of life between things that seek to destroy you.

There’s also the undercurrent of all Seibelmarsh culture, which is about the transformation, the horror beneath. Almost everyone knows something that can go wrong, or of some story of history, and when it ruled the Szudetken, it was not an empire of fishing villages, but instead the coiling spread of tentacles and screaming demands in the back of the mind. The people of Siebelmarsh are people who do imagine a dreadful darkness in the world, but they still live under the stars and eat from the sea — and there’s a certainty that the horror of their people lies within.

Inspirations: Lovecraftian and Chambers horror, the terror of the vast unknowns

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#CobrinSeil #DungeonsDragons #Games #Making

#Cobrin'Seil #Dungeons &amp; Dragons #Games #Making

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asmrtist-brainrot · 3 years

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Redacted Masterlist

Key:

Fluff - 💕

Angst - 💔

Spicy - 💦

Dark Themes - 🖤

Art - ✏️

Multi/All Characters | Other

How I Think They Look

How I Think the Listeners Look

Redacted Characters + 5 Senses: [Part 1][Part 2]

Spicy Snippet [💦]

Magical Race Biology HCs

Redacted OC Bio Template

My OC: Delanie Hadlock the Vamp

Lasko the Fifth Wheel /j [✏️]

Party Stalling - (Shaw Pack Wedding Party) [💕?]

Those of Aria

📍 Avior 📍

Midnight Storm [💕]

Clothing/Style/Appearance HCs ft. Starlight [✏️]

🍭 Caelum 🍭

Kissy, Kissy [💕]

🤘🏼 Gavin 🤘🏼

Imperium AU: Even Here [💕🖤💦]

Imperium AU: Eyes [🖤]

Gavin, My Beloved [💕]

My Hands Are Meant to Hold You in Them [🖤💕]

Kissy, Kissy [💕]

Clothing/Style/Appearance HCs ft. FL [✏️]

General Soft Yandere HCs [🖤]

Zombie Apocalypse HCs ft. Damien, Huxley & Lasko

Poly D. A. M. N. + Gavin Yandere HCs [🖤]

Poly D. A. M. N. + Gavin reacting to their Yan! Selves

Gavin Being a Simp HCs [💕]

Poly Gavin + Vega HCs [💕]

Poly Gavin + Vega - Canon Events [🖤]

😈 Vega 😈

Real Types of Monsters ft. Echo [🖤]

Poly Gavin + Vega HCs [💕]

Poly Gavin + Vega - Canon Events [🖤]

D. A. M. N.

🔥 Damien 🔥

Imperium AU: Hearth [🖤💕]

My Hands Are Meant to Hold You in Them [🖤💕]

Kissy, Kissy [💕]

Clothing/Style/Appearance HCs ft. FL [✏️]

Childhood Friends HCs + Angel [💕]

General Poly D. A. M. N. Yandere HCs [🖤]

Poly D. A. M. N. Reverse Comfort HCs [💕]

Zombie Apocalypse HCs ft. Gavin, Huxley & Lasko

Poly D. A. M. N. + Gavin Yandere HCs [🖤]

Poly D. A. M. N. + Winged FL HCs [💕]

Poly D. A. M. N. + Gavin reacting to their Yan! Selves

🍀 Huxley 🍀

Imperium AU: Eyes [🖤]

My Hands Are Meant to Hold You in Them [🖤💕]

Kissy, Kissy [💕]

Clothing/Style/Appearance HCs ft. FL [✏️]

General Poly D. A. M. N. Yandere HCs [🖤]

Poly D. A. M. N. Reverse Comfort HCs [💕]

Zombie Apocalypse HCs ft. Damien, Gavin & Lasko

Poly D. A. M. N. + Gavin Yandere HCs [🖤]

Poly D. A. M. N. + Winged FL HCs [💕]

Poly D. A. M. N. + Gavin reacting to their Yan! Selves

Flustered ft. FL [✏️]

🌪️ Lasko 🌪️

Imperium AU: Breathless [🖤]

My Hands Are Meant to Hold You in Them [🖤💕]

Kissy, Kissy [💕]

Clothing/Style/Appearance HCs ft. FL [✏️]

General Poly D. A. M. N. Yandere HCs [🖤]

Poly D. A. M. N. Reverse Comfort HCs [💕]

Zombie Apocalypse HCs ft. Damien, Gavin & Huxley

Poly D. A. M. N. + Gavin Yandere HCs [🖤]

Poly D. A. M. N. + Winged FL HCs [💕]

Poly D. A. M. N. + Gavin reacting to their Yan! Selves

Eyes on the Sidelines

💫 Geordi 💫

Geordi Being a Simp HCs [💕]

From the Office

🖥️ Aaron 🖥️

General Poly HCs ft. Elliot & Oliver [💕]

☕ Oliver ☕

Being Nervous around Mentor [💕]

General Poly HCs ft. Aaron & Elliot [💕]

Shaw’s Pack

🐺 David Shaw 🐺

Meeting the Parents [💔💕]

Poly Inversion Reunion ft. Darlin’, Angel & Sam [💔💕]

Social Media HCs [💕]

Multi-Piece ft. Angel [✏️]

Petting HC ft. Angel [✏️]

Clothing/Style/Appearance HCs ft. Angel [✏️]

General Soft Yandere HCs [🖤]

General Poly Yandere HCs ft. Asher & Milo [🖤]

Poly HCs ft. Asher & Milo [💕]

David X Darlin’ HCs [💔💕]

Streamer S/O - TikTok HCs [💕]

🌙 Asher 🌙

Social Media HCs [💕]

Clothing/Style/Appearance HCs ft. Baabe [✏️]

General Poly Yandere HCs ft. David & Milo [🖤]

Poly HCs ft. David & Milo [💕]

FINAL Asher Design [✏️]

🍂 Milo 🍂

Social Media HCs [💕]

Taking care of sick S/O HCs [💕]

Instagram Influencer Couple HCs [💕]

Clothing/Style/Appearance HCs ft. Aggro [✏️]

With a Sometimes Nonverbal S/O [💕]

General Poly Yandere HCs ft. David & Asher [🖤]

Poly HCs ft. David & Asher [💕]

Solaire Clan

🕯️ Frederick 🕯️

Beware, Beware [🖤]

Freddy Being Possessive over Bright HC

👑 William Solaire 👑

Vinyl Dances [💕]

💉 Sam Collins 💉

Poly Inversion Reunion ft. Darlin’, Angel & Sam [💔💕]

General Soft Yandere HCs [🖤]

Small Quirks [💕]

🍷 Vincent Solaire 🍷

Clothing/Style/Appearance HCs ft. Lovely [✏️]

The Fanged and Feral

⛓️ Adam ⛓️

BPM [💕💦]

Poly Relationship w/ Quinn [💕]

🔪 Quinn 🔪

Poly Relationship w/ Adam [💕]

The Walkers

🗡️ Blake 🗡️

Out of Reach [💔]

“Sad” Boi [✏️]

💭 Elliot 💭

Clothing/Style/Appearance HCs [✏️]

He’s Sus [✏️]

General Poly HCs ft. Aaron & Oliver [💕]

Elliot Simp HCs [💕]

#masterlist

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ryttu3k · 3 years

Photo

All Vamptober 2021 fills, and some select favourites!

Fangs Out!

Sweet Embrace

Where The Undead Gather

Elysium Fashion

The Very First Bite

Undead Love

Hideout

This Clan Of Mine

Newly Found Power

Inner Monster

Faith That Hurts (ibid)

Blood Hunter (ibid)

Eyes Of The Beast (ibid)

Every Rose Has Its Thorns

Blue Blood

Crimson Tears

The Night You Were Turned

Hunger

Satiation

Last Sunset

Eternal Enemy

It’s A Beautiful Night To Hunt

Forbidden Pleasures

The Prince

Blood Magic Ritual

Ceremony Of The Dead

You’re Bound To Me

Bats!

Night Off

Too Old To Die

The Sun Rises

In all, a very satisfactory project! I’ve drawn or represented every single VtM OC I have, and a good swathe of favourite canon characters, too (the only ones I didn’t get to were Mercurio from Bloodlines, Aila from Night Road, and Julia and Qadir from Shadows of New York).

Tweaked and/or finalised character designs (the Vinyl coterie, Wren, Ezra, Azar), finally developed some characters outright (the Sabbat pack), drew some I had only previously made Sims of (the Drakes). With the exception of the Sabbat kids, you can read up on all the OCs here!

Some surprisingly time-consuming Sims projects, but mostly digital art. So much digital art. Art time ranged from nearly ten hours (the four lineless portraits for 10-13) to, uh, under a minute (The Very First Bite, natch). Got much more confident with digital painting with Clip Studio Paint, got to try some fun sketchy and/or limited-colour styles. A lot more background work than I’d usually do (Eternal Enemy and Last Sunset especially).

So yes, good stuff, and now I am not going to touch my tablet for at least a month!

#vampire the masquerade #vtm #vamptober #vamptober 2021 #ry draws stuff #so much stuff #ry sims

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essays-for-breakfast · 3 years

Text

One Candle Still Flickers

Melizabethweek Day 2: Heaven and Hell

Please note that this piece contains mentions of blood and violence. If this makes you uncomfortable, turn away now.

Scorching heat. Blistering cold. Air that burns the lungs and tears at the sensitive tissue in the throat until even screams of agonizing pain become an impossible feat. And oh, does he scream.

Compared to even the foulest depths of Meliodas’ wretched hellscape of a home, the Demon Realm, Purgatory offers a charming hospitality no one can withstand for long. He tries, of course. Tells himself that he overcame worse pain, that the frostbites on his arms and the iron taste of blood in his mouth don’t compare to all 106 times he watched Elizabeth die, and that the shredded skin on his fingertips is an illusion summoned by his father.

After all, only Meliodas’ emotions roam the desolate canyons.

The weakest part of himself trapped in the cruelest part of the world.

Somewhere in the smoke-heavy clouds, obscured by the constant ash rain from volcanic activity, the Demon King laughs. Meliodas spits out a lump of blood and sends the towering frame of his father a humorless grin. At least one of them is having fun.

The next step costs him more energy than he has to give, and Meliodas falls to his knees. More ash under his fingernails, another lungful of distillated fume eager to kill him. The searing pain while his illusory organs devolve to embers for the thousandths time almost entices a begrudging respect for his father out of him. He has defied the scorching heat and the blistering cold since the end of the Holy War, and he still has the liveliness to laugh at Meliodas’ failed attempts to escape.

For how long have they played this game now? How many years, decades, and eons have passed since the curse pulled Meliodas into Purgatory?

He doesn’t know. The creator of this ugly fusion between a glacier and a volcano hasn’t bothered to install a clock.

Ash flakes tumble from above and leave black scars on the back of Meliodas’ hand. The forefinger twitches in a desperate struggle to hold onto life, hope, anything that will help him stand again.

“Elizabeth…” he whispers.

“Will you die with the witch’s name on your lips too?” The Demon King’s voice thunders in Meliodas’ head, and a fiery eruption from the nearest volcano punctuates his words.

Meliodas pushes himself on his forearms. “You made sure I can’t die, remember? You’re getting rusty, old man.”

“Your insolent tongue is just as worthless as the entirety of your emotions. They only hinder you from becoming my successor.”

“I’ll gladly take my insolent tongue over a world where I become like you.”

The Demon King points a finger the size of a grown man at Meliodas. “There is no stopping it now. As we speak, my loyal subjects are gathering the Ten Commandments, and your body will soon fuse with their magic. Then neither the Seven Deadly Sins nor your dear goddess will be able to stand against the reborn Demon King.”

“Then I guess I just have to find the exit before that happens.”

The Demon King’s laugh rings for a long time between the twisted rock formations. Meliodas climbs to his knees, but his shell of a body refuses to support the weight of his worries. More ash under his fingernails, another lungful of distillated fume eager to kill him. Another century gone by without a glint of success, without a glimmer of hope.

Purgatory may never kill him. But to survive in this world is to endure endless suffering where despair gnaws at him with every step until he loses himself in shapeless shadows, destined to wander the lava riversides and blizzard-coated mountain peaks for the rest of time.

Meliodas takes another step.

For her. Elizabeth.

He has to return to Britannia before the Demon King can reach his horrid claw around her. Before the curse claims her life anew.

Her face, in the variant as princess of Liones and all the incarnations before her, keeps Meliodas upright and pushes him to scale another cliffside, even as his field of vision shrinks and the shadows at the edge take over.

Golden Warmth. A liberating breeze. Puffy fine-weather clouds as far as the eye can see, an entire ocean of them. And in between these white waves float islands with alabaster towers and grass so eternally green it can only exist in a place far beyond all destructive influences. An endless summer sun caresses his neck.

Meliodas digs his fingers into the ground where he fell, although he hardly feels the sharp pebbles anymore.

Why do the memories of the Celestial Realm return to him now? Elizabeth, the very first incarnation he fell in love with, took him to her home once. They played a dangerous game of hide and seek with the countless Goddess warriors there. If even one of them had seen through Meliodas pathetic disguise, at least one of the parties involved would have lost their head. Despite the threat of discovery, Elizabeth dragged him to all her favorite places with a cheer she rarely allowed herself to show. A vast field of golden wheat hems. The top of an abandoned tower, half destroyed and seized by ivy tendrils.

Amidst the bloodshed of the Holy War and despite the feud that divides their clans, Elizabeth offered Meliodas a hand. With nothing but a smile and her belief in the good in others, she pulled him out of hell. Shoulder to shoulder with her, he saw heaven for the first time.

“Elizabeth,” Meliodas says. He hardly recognizes his voice. “I let you down again. If it’s always ending like this, why’d you take my hand that day? Why didn’t you give up on me?”

The warmth of her presence is so very far away. Where she used to stroke his arms, only freezing numbness remains. Where she used to kiss him, his lips only taste the burning aridity of Purgatory.

But even if she is so very far away, an incarnation of Elizabeth is still out there, alive. Maybe she is standing amidst the chaos of magical and hellfire explosions and leads the war against the cruel fangs of darkness as she always did. Maybe she is gazing into a star-sprinkled sky and waits for his return. Maybe she still believes he will fulfill his promise and free her of her curse.

A blood-red vail has overtaken Meliodas’ vision. When he struggles out of the dust to his feet, he has lost his humanoid shape. A shadow stands in his place, a perversion of the dragon creature with which he shares the name of his sin. Wrath.

Somewhere hidden in the smoke screens, the Demon King triumphs. At last, his son’s emotions have given into hopelessness.

But in a place deep in the insides of the shadow dragon, Meliodas keeps a flame alight. Elizabeth’s face kindles the spark, her gentle hands shield the candle against the hurricanes and hailstorms, and her voice, filled with tireless encouragement, nurtures the beacon.

She fought for him during the Holy War. They fought for each other against the overwhelming might of gods. Even if she is so very far away, Meliodas will fight for her.

As the shadow to her light.

Scorching heat. Blistering cold. Claws that dig into the most treacherous slopes carry him forward, step by step. He tears through Purgatory’s pitiful inhabitants and shreds any creature that hinders his search for the exit. For a moment, he may lose himself and taste this senseless wrath the Demon King wants him to dissolve into. But the flame inside endures.

Years, decades, and eons go by, glaciers melt and magma chambers freeze, while Meliodas fights. For her. Elizabeth.

The dragon creature which serves as Meliodas’ shell roars and bares its teeth. His current opponent is of the nasty type. He doesn’t yield. Neither does Meliodas.

They slam each other into the rock formations, break each other’s bones, and throw themselves at the other as though this brawl is all they’ve ever known and all that ever mattered.

Meliodas should hate his opponent. After all he, aside from the Demon King, stands as the only one with the power to deter his escape. And yet… this gritty, pesky bastard he crushes and is getting crushed by has the air of familiarity to him. Meliodas knows his fighting style. Furthermore, he knows all too well the flame that convinces his opponent to strike blow after blow until they collapse into a heap of limps and shadows.

They both feel the exhaustion in each haggard breath. And yet they both won’t die.

Meliodas’ opponent mumbles something. His words have never quite reached through the shadows clogging Meliodas’ senses, but they gain a new clarity now that the frenzy of battle flees him.

“…holding out for you in the land of the living,” a familiar voice says. “And I… want to see the woman who means the world to me.”

Yeah. I do too.

#melizabethweek #melizabeth #nnt fanfiction #nnt #meliodas #purgatory arc #seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai #my writing #I hope you didn't think I gave up on drama just cause my last entry was so harmless #hahaha never

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taybatwo2 · 2 years

Text

Another smattering of OC’s this week. These are all from a different world separate from my previous posted OC’s (both from the magic wielding universe and Charlie’s).

I don’t know what world Char belongs to, but she is an OC I started drawing back in freshman year of high school. This Char was done in 2015, but her design has been changed since.

Char is a shaggy furred, bold black striped, hoofed, (who is now designed with an insect like mandible), large eyed (with three simple eyes in the center of her head) demon (or forrest spirit, she doesn’t know, she’s never met another being like herself). She can not fly and has the wings to make her look bigger and refers to them as her “wow factor” (she’s never managed to fly with them -despite many attempts). She also has a long, tufted tail (it is not prehensile).

She likes hunting for prey (she mostly eats smaller animals- anything smaller than a faun is fair game for her), exploring nature, making musical instruments out of horns and reeds, fashioning other items for survival (she has several “nests,” that she hides shiny rocks and other things she finds of interest. She is a little under 5 ft, but really lithe.

The next OC was another idea for a deity for my magic world, named Dias, they have both female breasts and male genitalia. I don’t remember what they were going to be in charge of though. They were drawn in 2015.

Next to them is a tengu named Rue-ack Bakka. I don’t remember if they are female or male or genderless….but they are an adventurer who is hoping to find a master blacksmith to apprentice under (as their blacksmith skills could use a lot of work). They are fair with a sword (enough to get into trouble and then proceed to usually get out of it unscathed). They are an optimist. They also decorated their beak with brightly colored beads (it might be a signifier of what family clan they belonged to).

The next picture was done in 2013. It was my first couple drawings of Rue-ack Bakka.

This drawing was done of several unicorn warriors I saw in a dream. There was a tall “regal” unicorn, with an insanely long, sharp, gold, twisted horn, and massive gems inset in her head. She also had long, wavy hair that was so white, it often looked tinged with her surrounding colors. She also had tufts of hair coming out of her wrist, and ankles (which ended in polished golden hooves). She also had a long, thin tail, with the same white hair tipping it. She dressed in fine, flowing/sheer dresses, collared with more jewels. She also fought with a gun.

Her compatriot was her body guard (?), and was much stronger and stockier. They had a curved rhino Iike horn (but thinner and hand sharpened), she might have had lavender and silver tones in her hair, hooves, and horn. Her tail was shorter and had more hair on it. She also used a sword, and wore leather armor.

This case solving duo were originally from a dream. They were forced to work together, (despite their two different problem solving styles) to solve problems from this dimension and the supernatural. The top person is a renowned demon hunter, despite being one himself. He has yet to break any of the rules imposed on his species visiting this realm and due to his involvement with investigators is not allowed to return to his own realm. He is pretty physical in his fighting (wrapping around his opponent and using his power of “seduction” to lure them into submission), often uses his legs in fighting, and finishes them off with his fangs. He is rumored to be either an incubus or a vampire, but neither seem to be entirely accurate. He has pale-blueish skin and periwinkle/lavender hair. His eyes and body movements can seduce others, his eyes will turn red when feeding on blood (but he has to limit himself to animals and other demons while in the human realm), has sharp teeth (all canines and molars are sharp) and he is almost 7” tall. He can see in the dark, has better hearing, is faster, stronger, and more flexible than a regular human. He takes great pride in his hair and walks around in a loincloth for modesty, but his kind do not like wearing clothes (his skin is very sensitive to clothing textures).

Despite all the sexual attention he gets he is asexual. He often tries to hide how sad he is at the constant misunderstandings he receives, but it wears on him.

After begrudgingly teaming up with Wola, becomes like an older brother to him.

Wola, formerly “Wolf,” but due to his spelling error that he refuses to admit to, his name is Wola. He was raised by wolves (or a kind of wolf demon - the department hasn’t nailed that down yet), and at some point in his early life, his right eye was damaged to such an extent that it had to be removed (he also had quite a few badly healed scars covering him too, but he either doesn’t remember how he got them or refuses to say). He is in his mid/late teens, but is stuck at 4’ but is pretty strong, and can easily lift three times his weight. He has no interest in having relationships with others and often is happy sitting by himself working on his multitude of gadgets and computers. He has an uncanny knack for computers, pushing buttons, and all kinds of gadgets. He wears a wolf cloak (complete with wolf ears) that he lets absolutely no one touch and usually has it up at all times (his hair is very curly underneath, very bushy eyebrows, one golden cat eye, sharp claws that he keeps well trimmed, sharp canines, and often goes bare foot as he has a hatred for foot wear). His past is a mystery, and he would have stayed out in the woods had he not been discovered by the department. He eats a variety of food but often enjoys sneaking in some peanut butter crackers when no one is looking. He eventually looks up to the unnamed-vampire-incubus like demon as an older brother. These drawings were done in 2014-2017.

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dark-elf-writes · 11 months

Note

MOTHER FUCKER

Harry, Fred, and George do HP puppet pals in the hallways for the first years. Colin Creevey eats it up every time.

Every time Snape hears someone humming “snape, snape, Severus snape. DUMBLEDORE!” he pops several blood vessels.

Harry saying “It’s a pipe bomb :D” haunts Snape’s nightmares.

BUT ALSO this made me think about one of my favorite things.

Harry an entire demon child that grew up with the most square ass mind reader as his very older brother has learned to weaponize his ADHD in the funniest way possible.

Projecting his thoughts through mental shields so whether they want to or not anyone who has the talent is going to damn well hear him.

Snape and Dumbledore (with whom there is a mutual distrust and dislike of) cannot meet Harry’s eyes without hearing the most ear worm muggle pop songs, terrifying existential debates with himself, or Harry screaming “PENIS” at the top of his mental lungs when they least expect it.

He delights in tormenting both of them and it’s not like they can tell him to think quieter or admit that the reason Harry does it in the first place is that they were snooping in students minds.

#the elf talks #naruto #harry potter #poor Tom barely survived Harry’s pre Hogwarts years #now he finds his brothers antics more funny #you know now that he’s not the target #harry said ‘I’m going to become everyone’s problem’ and I love that for him #I had this written out and went to edit the tags and then A NOTIF POPPED UP AND I LOST EVERYTHING #but a pale imitation of the original answer but I do not have the mental space to put in that much effor twice #fanged clan: magic style

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belit0 · 3 years

Note

Vampire Indra HCs please? ❤️

I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS ONE I love it❤️🌹

He is the oldest of the whole family, in fact, the first. His father was a demon, a descendant from the head of Hell. Kaguya ordered Hagoromo to have at least two descendants so that the fight against white magic would be easier, and by a blood ritual, he created Indra and Ashura.

Indra is a vampire, Ashura is a werewolf.

Obviously, the vampire hates his brother, considers his canine behavior ungraceful and dishonorable. He ignores his existence, even though his sibling is always chasing him. Since Indra has an overdeveloped sense of smell, he can detect the scent which emanates from Ashura miles away.

Eventually he set up a clan, but only out of boredom. Nowadays he regrets it, because they are all idiots. Especially Obito and Shisui, he doesn't understand who could have turned them into vampires and if someone told him who did it, he would kill them in an instant (if he was able, since vampires cannot kill each other.)

When he met Madara he only planned to have him as a colleague, it seemed like a good plan, a good option. Until this one turned his little brother because he was dying of a mysterious illness. And so, the chain of misfortunes continues.

Now the unfortunate Indra is dealing with seven stupid vampires that he no longer wants to be involved with, but he must be very watchful otherwise his father will come and kill him personally.

And it turns out that his brother has also formed a clan. Which is even worse than his. The intensity of the werewolves could never have been anticipated. Now vampires are constantly being chased by giant brown, white, and yellow dogs.

The worst two are those who call themselves Hashirama and Naruto. Indra refuses to hear about it, but he listened when Madara and Sasuke complained aloud about the affectionate chase of these two creatures and gagged.

This leading vampire has so many years of life that he no longer evens feeds himself from whatever he did when he was young. Now he only drinks the most refined blood of high society people. If they are drunk, so much the better. There's nothing better than tricking men and women, getting them drunk, and then sticking his fangs into their necks mercilessly.

He sleeps in the basement, buried under the ground. In fact, it is Obito who has the task of burying him every night because he is the most annoying vampire and he keeps making him angry, so that is his punishment.

Indra has not updated his clothing since he first surfaced from hell. Everyone else dresses modern, except for Madara, who has a similar style to his.

#indra otsutsuki #indra headcanon #otsutsuki indra #uchiha clan #uchiha headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto shippuden

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wthtorke · 4 years

Text

Honorbound -Oneshot- (Commission)

Life was lonely, as he intended it to be. A worn, wandering warrior with the weight of his battle scars exhausting his soul, stopping from village to village, living from the very soil that his horse trotted on. Little were the things he still had possession of. His horse, his sword, and the very scrape that was left of his honor, each battle and happening seemly chipping away at it, as it did to his will to go on.

Word got to him in one of the villages that several honored warriors came to an abrupt end in a clearing. Their bloody robes and sometimes sword shards were the only proof that they were defeated by someone. The families grieved and every time, a new warrior would stand up to the challenge, arming up and setting to the very same clearing, only to be found days later by barking dogs and gasping children.

At first, he wasn’t impressed. Cocky warriors died every day, thinking themselves to be great and undefeatable only to stare in horror as the blade that sealed their fate came down upon them. But something was different this time. No one knew who was behind all the murders. It couldn’t be the foreigners with their guns and powders, there were no holes in the bodies they found, what they found was much worse.

The bodies were often missing the head and the spine and when the head and spine were not taken, the sword was gone, a complete disgrace. Taking a fallen warrior’s sword was asking to be cursed for life.

So he decided to ask around, not like he had anything better to do other than to wait for his death. Coming across a child that swore to see a red demon on a tree close to the clearing. ‘Big’, ‘Ugly’, and ‘With fangs pointing out of its mouth’. Now, he figured most demons probably looked like that, but it was the ‘it mimicked me’ that reminded him of a very old tale, a summer horror story, one his very grandmother told him every time he refused to come inside for the night, saying that old demons would snatch him and carry him off into the darkness, disappearing forever.

It sounded dumb. Stupid, even. To go after the very same place where at least five other warriors had perished. He once had judged himself to be a good warrior, quick moves, fast-thinking, and deadly strikes. Now his shame made him heavy on his feet, the regrets in his chest making it hard to breathe sometimes. He only drew his sword to tend to it, to make sure it was in pristine condition, ironically.

He thought about turning his back and keeping going with his pointless journey. To once again just leave it behind him. He was no better than any of the warriors that fought and died.

But fate was against him, it seemed.

On his way out, from up a tree, a glint caught his eye. But it was no ordinary glint.

The light seemed to catch up on whatever magic that demon used, trying to reveal to the world that pure evil was walking on its very ground, unnoticed.

But not by him.

The child had not lied. The demon was massive from what he could tell from the shifting form. It's eyes flashing a yellow glow before it vanished completely from sight, either jumping to another tree or just disappearing. No shifting, no sound, nothing.

It was taunting. Of course, to kill and to lure yet another imbecile to its trap, sounded every bit like a demon.

Making a decision, he asked the families just where exactly was the clearing.

Five tokens of his kills hung on the wall of his ship. Three skulls with their spines perfectly attached to them and two swords.

At first, his clan didn't really understand his objective here. The will to learn and to adapt going far deeper than just hunting different races of humans.

Out of every race on this wretched planet, he respected these more. He watched as they taught their children to be honored. To fight with respect and bravery. To know when you're defeated and when to strike.

Things they had taught them themselves once.

While most motherships hovered above hot countries in the south. Two distinct clans took home in the Orient. Both clans despised each other greatly, going as far as to keep away from one another in order not to harm the still learning human population. His clan chose the islands known to humans as 'Wa', which would later become 'Nippon'.

It had been centuries, of course. The humans had forgotten them just as they had forgotten the filthy beings that first generated them, who cowered in their home planet. When the clans decided to abandon Earth at once, so did the two clans. Leaving everything behind, only coming back rarely to hunt, forming the only negative memory of being demons to beings some of them actually came to love.

He'd heard everything about humans, he knew other races and even had trophies of some of them. Hunts so boring and forgettable that sometimes he caught himself checking just from where that skull was from. It was ridiculous.

But not here. He was having the time of his life here. And he might be having even more fun soon, it seemed.

He knew human badbloods existed and were total scum. Waking trash.

But what he did not really see coming was a bad blood that….Wasn't really a bad blood.

He'd been observing when the warrior had come, his horse tiredly walking into the village. He looked out of place. His clothes were old, but not unkept like his beard. Humans had a different kind of 'beard' than yautjas had, and with the time, he could tell the difference between a cared for beard and one that was just a rat's nest on someone's face.

Disgusting.

So he did not belong there, or anywhere, it seemed. He carried a sword that he could also tell was in good form. Good. Another match, perhaps.

While badbloods were to be taken out quickly from life, he found himself weirdly curious about this one. He had the same instance and breathing of clan leaders. Tired, exhausted from years of making decisions but still carrying on nonetheless. It was puzzling. Humans did not live that long to live this type of experience. But that one apparently did.

You could say he was angry when after hearing about all the murders and happenings, the human just walked off with his slightly rested horse.

But it wouldn't do. No.

Despite being well over a youngblood's age, he sure acted like he was one. Taunting his prey from up a tree, daring him to come forth and challenge him.

You could also say he was more than satisfied when it worked. The human walking right back to the widowed women to ask where the battles had supposedly happened.

He practiced harder that night, his blade extra sharp, wielded with much more precision and care than the first time he touched it. His style bettered with each battle, his adaptation proving to be, yet again, perfect.

Words could not describe would eager he was for his next battle.

You may have fought before, many times even. But surely never with a Demon. He had not.

Unsheathing his blade felt bittersweet. Wielding it felt rusty, almost. But the tingling in his fingertips was still there, the rush of the blood in his veins as he breathed in and out, remembering every move, every technique, every battle he had both won and lost.

Sharp as your blade maybe, it won't fight for itself, your mind must be just as sharp and deadly as your weapon, he came to learn. Raw potential was nothing without guidance.

Closing his eyes, the wind hustled the trees around him, going into the general direction where he was told the clearing was. Almost luring him there, to his death, like it had done to the others before him. He was no different, no better. And yet, he'd face the challenge. Fight for people he didn't know, against something that wasn't natural, not from this world.

At dawn, he left his horse in the village, striding into the dense forest, armed with his sword and nothing else.

1400

He walked for what felt like forever, feeling his back burning under someone's gaze. The hairs of his neck stood on end, every instinct in his body told him to leave while he still could, foolish. He had doomed himself the minute he decided to ask about the funerals, the minute he decided to rest at that village. There was no escape. Only forth, only future, whatever might it hold for him.

Reaching the clearing, he knew he was in the belly of the beast when he saw the remnants of the past battles that took place there. The dried blood in the grass, the blade shards here and there along with some bushes cut the way only a speeding katana would slice into. The trees had similar cuts to their barks, scratches that looked like a dragon had nested in this area for years.

His mouth closed again when he heard the growling coming from everywhere and nowhere at all, his hand instantly going to the hilt of his sword, searching the trees as the clicking sound circled him from the shadows, teasing him, trying to instill fear into his heart and soul. He could see past it.

It wasn't long until a loud thud snapped his attention to his front, a few feet ahead, he watched as the Demon decided to show itself. It's skin slowly materializing itself into view as it switched from the astral plane into the mortal one to fight him.

It was surprisingly as the child described. Big, red and ugly. It's jaws spreading to reveal sets of sharp tusks as it roared, the birds that hid from them flying off in desperation.

Studying it, his eyes fell to something unexpected. A blade that might have looked like his, only it was corrupted by the creature's evilness, twisted into dangerous ridges, made to maul and bleed instead of clean slicing and striking.

Disgraceful.

He scowled, not holding back his disgust at the sight, the Demon snarling right back to him before lifting his blade and getting into battle stance as he did the same.

Long seconds passed as his breathing fell into place with the rhythm he would set when fighting, staring into the creature's eyes, piercing yellow like the fires of the underworld that it would try to drag him into.

But it wouldn't work.

Taking a sharp breath, he lunged forward, his sword aimed at the beast's arm as he went. Said beast roared again, meeting him halfway through the blow, swords locking as he felt the impact of the greater body coming at him, his right foot digging into the dirt with sheer force to keep his balance.

So close to it, he noticed it wore a necklace made of fabric, braided into loops around its thick neck. He frowned as he pushed back with all he had, the demon grunting as it forced back into him.

Realization downed him when he caught it looking at his sword sheath, the braided cords that tied it to his belt. Eyes snapping back to its necklace, he recognized the pattern in them, the different colored loops belonging to different victims.

Trophies. It collected trophies.

The scream that ripped from his throat was out before he could stop it, forcing the creature to back off as he all but swung his weight on it, their blades sliding free from one another as he lunged again, grunting his effort as he managed to block the Demon's counterattack, missing his eye by an inch, he panted as he felt his arms begin to burn from the sheer force the beast pressed him down with, its muscles bulging as it snarled at him, tusks dangerously close to his face.

He grunted as he turned, sweeping low as the creature's blade whizzed past his head, his own blade finding its calf and slicing it open, bright, green blood painting the grass under them and a perfect line on his sword.

He took the opportunity to jump back and gain space as the Demon roared its pain, eyes set on him as it lunged blindly in rage at him.

His sore arms not resisting the impact on time, he felt the searing cut as his right shoulder almost gave out under the pain, his face scrunching up as he couldn't afford to close his eyes in pain.

He looked up to see the creature's almost smug expression as it retracted its blade, piercing it forward again, aiming for his chest, for his heart.

He sucked in a gasp as he forced his legs to give out under him, dropping his body to the ground like a rag doll, the blade sinking into the ground dangerously next to his eye.

The Demon's eyes widened as he tensed to pluck the blade from the ground, the warrior already moving again, his blade slicing the beast into its right side, under its first rib, green blood once again oozing out of it as it struggled to keep its balance, it’s free clawed hand coming to clutch its side while still trying to fight him with the other.

Still, in the rush, the warrior rolled to the side, feet turning as his legs worked to get him up straight again, robes dirty with green strands from both grass and green blood, his own shoulder tainted red with his own clotting blood. His breathing was heavy as he got in stance again, shoulder squaring, wincing as he felt the wound ripping open again, even more blood coming out of it. But it was either his shoulder or his life and between them, he chose life.

Before the creature could process swinging at him again, he lunged. Face scrunched up in anger, fists firm around the sword's handle as he dived into the beast, blade cutting it through the chest downwards to its belly, the hard spikes it had there being cut off like wood chips out of tree bark.

His blade moving down and out, he spun again, stepping back to have the creature in full view as it finally lost its balance and kneeled, its legs giving out as the green blood soiled more and more of the ground under it.

He could hear the blood rushing through his veins, the ringing in his head crisp and clear as he struggled to control his breathing, eyes never leaving the demon.

Precious seconds passed before the creature tried getting up again, to no avail. Its arms and legs shook as it tried using its sword as support to get up.

He steadied his hands again and took a step closer to it, not sure of what to do. End it? Spare it? Could demons be spared? Could demons die?

He jerked back slightly as the demon roared at him, clearly angry for being outmatched. He frowned, taking another step forward as the creature bent over again, the thick dreads falling over as it stared at the ground, he pointed the blade at the beast, opening his mouth to speak to it, not really knowing if it understood him or not when its left hand whipped up and gripped his chest, claws sinking in on his robes and all but tearing the skin of his chest apart, leaving hot bloody trails behind as the claws closed in on his robes. He yelled as he was pulled forward, his foot straining against the ground as he refused to buckle.

Staring into the flaming eyes of the beast, he would not become another string on its necklace.

The warrior growled as he brought the hilt of the sword up, connecting it to the creature's face three times as its grip loosened on his robes, bringing his knee up the Demons jaws, making its head snap back up, eyes disoriented briefly as it shook its head, looking up to find the warrior already on his feet, his blade ready to sink into his head anytime.

"You have lost." The warrior said, voice firm and unwavering as if his chest wasn't almost ripped open and the gashing wound on his shoulder didn't exist. "Take your leave of this village or perish by my hand." He finished, tone as sharp as the feel of his weapon.

The demon cackled, taking a few more breaths, wheezy and wobbly as it got up, stumbling slightly as it clutched its right side, blood oozing through its fingers.

The warrior wasn't sure if it had understood him as it reached for something in the back of its belt, pulling a dagger that was an otherworldly shape. He braced himself for a final attack when the thing laughed again, holding the dagger out in its open hand.

'..ta'Ke iT', it said, voice raspy and breathy.

The warrior narrowed his eyes, thinking it to be another trick from the demon, deceiving and dirty. He didn't move, still in battle stance as the beast roared, clearly regretting it as its grip tightened on its side briefly, hand coming up again as it frowned harder.

'Ta'ke', it hissed and the warrior stepped forward, hand cautiously coming to meet the demons own, grabbing the dagger from it, inspecting it quickly, sword still pointed at the creature.

'De' feat' It croaked, its blade retracting as it did. Pointing next to the trees behind him, 'Go', it said, 'Su'mm er, re' turn', it growled, pointing at the warriors head, 'Ta'ke'.

The warrior merely huffed, "I'll be waiting, now vanish, Demon." He snarled. The Demon chuckling before turning on its heel and walking into the forest, its skin shifting into the forest's skin once again. .

“I’ll be waiting”, he repeated, sheathing his sword.

This Oneshot was commissioned and the buyer kindly allowed me to post it! Just an example of the kind of work I can do ;) Hope yall like it!

https://ko-fi.com/wthtorke My ko-fi in case anyones feeling generous and wants to help a broke college student lmao

#yautja #The Predator #predator #predators #alien vs predator #oneshot #commisionwork #commission #Alien #Aliens #male reader

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heyitsbugette · 4 years

Text

Heart and soul

Not even everything in training that Damian Wayne was subjected to in the league of assassins nor the eccentricity of living as the only biological son of Bruce Wayne have prepared him for his greatest threat.

Luka Couffaine.

Anyone with eyes could see that there was a certain attraction on behalf of the heir for the sweet daughter of the best bakers in Paris, who with her kindness and charms she captivated the cold heart of the Prince of Gotham. And more than once Jason Todd joked with Tom Dupain about how it made a lot of sense for such a sweet girl to come straight out of a bakery, occasionally amusingly saying that the Dupain-Cheng kitchen was magical.

It was really confusing when the Robin was puzzled and stressed by feel tamed in the presence of his angel and surprisingly with the famous heroine Ladybug as well. Of course, he was teased until it all made sense to them, when together they find out the identity of the spotted heroine by Raven's deductions, his closest friend and ex-girlfriend.

Raven, annoyed by the cowardice of her best friend, motivated him to go after his beloved right away. The youngest of the Wayne clan then did not know whether to feel grateful or offended when in the end he decided to heed the advice of the young woman of serious features.

His angel through his eyes became more and more perfect after the revelation, she knew how to fight and he did not need it to defend herself, Damian Wayne undoubtedly loved strong women. Such was their surprise when The Jagged Stone invited them by Marinette suggestion to reveal his pupil to them, the very one musician who he secretly hid under his wing for an entire year to prepare him to his debut, a boy with the ferocity of a pirate and the intelligence of a predator to words of the number one rocker in lists.

— Luka is somewhat shy at first, but when my little starlight introduced us I knew that the boy was born to succeed... Come on, dude! I mean-... Bruce, I guarantee that our collaboration between Wayne Enterprises, Rolling Stone Company and MDC will be legendary.

— I trust you, Jagged.

The fierceness in the artist's words could be seen for miles, convincing everyone with his confidence, and if the boy turns out to be as talented as they claimed, the launch of Anarka's son could generate a few million if his strategy worked. Bruce, by the way, looked amused despite the fact that his facial expression did not help at all to demonstrate it, always with his expressionless face and a curious gaze direct to his new partner.

But he could not speak in the same way for his children and how they were inusually calm, the ones who had always admired the singer were nervous with his presence, to the point that they were strangely silent behind him as they followed them, which was suspicious for the family's patriarch, they were not so well-mannered, but always noisy.

Damian, on the other hand, although he found Jagged's company pleasant, he had little mind in the older man's new human toy, he did not have time to be interested in another spoiled child with ambitions of glory and fame, because he only agreed to accompany his family for two reasons.

First and foremost, Marinette would be there. Second, he wanted to visit Fang, he had a great appreciation for the playful crocodile.

— Hey B! So will we finally meet the star boy they all were talking about so much?

— Indeed, Jason. Marinette arranged everything with Miss Rolling and they agreed on a small presentation to close the deal.

— Oh, cool.

The youngest of the clan hid his smile at the mere mention of his muse, heading to the recording studio where they took a seat next to some investors while Luka Couffaine was in front in his maximum glory on the stage, being assisted by a small French-Chinese girl who arranged his clothes meticulously between whispers that were dedicated, they seemed close. They laughed together as they whispered, as if they shared a local joke that only the two of them could understand, but it was when she blushed that the frown of Bruce Wayne's son became more noticeable.

No one with eyes could deny the obvious, Jagged's protegé was conventionally handsome; his seductive blue eyes that saw through his lens, a winning and playful smile. Although the boy was tall and slender, it was obvious that he was not a weakling at all, he had the figure in slim-fit, quite strange cause Couffaine had not exactly the kind of the lifestyle of an athlete.

Along with it, dark hair dyed in turquoise tips and aesthetic piercings adorning his ears up to the side of the helix. The guy in question have quite the look, dressed to impress in a grunge outfit designed precisely by MDC especially for him, he had a style that Jason Todd would say "You got it, brother!".

— Marinette, honey, stop. I think Luka looks handsome already.

— Oh, Miss Penny. He doesn't even need my help for that.

After so tender flirting, the aforementioned blushed noticeably in the same red shade that the heir saw in his furious vision. Did his angel flirt with another boy? But, It's not like he could demand explanations from her and he knew it, they weren't a couple or anything remotely similar. Yes, they were close and they spent a lot of time together, but if he saw it objectively she was not his.

Without option he was able to recover his composure ignoring the mocking smile that his older brothers gave him, he looked uncomfortable. But surely Marinette just wanted to be nice and give her friend a compliment to brighten his day only, that's the kind of person she was.

— Come on, Luka!

His mentor indicated as he launched himself into his couch while Penny sat next to him taking his hand. Both saw themselves as a pair of proud parents attentive to each movement that the guitarist made to prepare, the latter meanwhile looking out of the corner of his eye attentive to the little French girl with tender freckles inadvertently present, since of course she was his motivation .

His actions were unnoticed by everyone except for a certain green eyed boy who still did not trust the musician. He knew his kind, womanizers who went from girl to girl breaking hearts left and right, of course he only wanted to protect his angel from a guy who didn't even deserve to breathe her own air.

The punk man was... Like his father, sure. Or so he wanted to believe.

Oh! Yeah, Alright… Mmmm.

Gather 'round guys

It's time to start listening

Practice makes perfect

But perfect's not workin'

There's a lot more to music

That knowing where your cue's gonna be.

Okay, okay. The guy knows how to sing without the need for auto-tune, he gives it to him. But he wouldn't admit it, flattering the enemy is something that would never be available; he would not dedicate him the mere weakness of raising his ego.

Marinette deserves the best, which is indisputable to the dark-haired teen, and such was his victory when his angel realized the same thing when she moved on off the spinleless coward who was Adrien Agreste. Luckily Luka Couffaine would not last a day.

You can play all the right notes

But that don't mean you're movin' me

But if you can jump like David Lee Roth

Or pump your fist like you're Bruce "The Boss"

Bruce was perplexed at his mention, watching amused as the teenager endorsed the stage listeing with pleasure the laughter of the iconic artist who was stroking the crocodile that was rubbing on his legs. Marinette held back so as not to shout in support of Luka with the same passion with which he cheered her up when she triumphed, a star-shaped sparkle in her eyes was present with no intention of leaving.

If you got a heart and soul

You can rock and roll

Rock and roll

The American tried to no be disappointed when he noticed that she was not even aware of his presence, but would not allow anyone else to know it, he would be weak to allow the rookie musical to affect him because of how well he grabed the attention of his beloved heroine.

He wouldn't give his annoying siblings the pleasure of driving him out of his box, although Dick was close enough to get him by keep looking at him with pity. No, he don't need anyone's pity.

Strum it

Drum it

Slide across and run it

The stage is your home

If you learn how to own it

Like the greats did

There's no way that you can fake it

Just when he thought the half asian girl would continue to ignore him during the entire performance, he didn't count on her swapping seats with the pesky Drake to position herself next to him. Being impossible for the vigilante not to melt before her happy smile and with her gaze outlining that perfect silhouette that he would be fascinated to paint, he would not deny that she was his art, his source of inspiration.

— I'm so happy for Luka, Dami. You have no idea how hard he has worked.

— He's a lucky guy... I suppose.

She took his hand, pressing it a little against hers as she tried to suppress the emotion of seeing Luka start his career, how shes sitll as always emotional and enthusiastic when someone she loved achieve them goals, crying with them with joy when them dreams came true.

Such was the youngest of the Dupain-Cheng family, Damian experienced it first hand with each accomplishment that he got culminated. His angel always received him with some well made dessert and words of encouragement to encourage him to continue working hard.

That's the type of person she is.

You've got to feel the beat before you can move

Even though you're not wearing blue suede shoes

Makin' mistakes, but that won't matter

If you can swagger like old' pal Jagged

If you got a heart and soul

You can rock and roll

If you live and you die

For the music inside

If the one for five never gets sold

Then you can rock and roll

Rock and roll

Luka playfully looked at his idol when he made reference to him in his lyrics, and this one who just left his seat at once to raise his hands in celebration, exclaiming proudly pointed out with determination, as he pull out a Bruce Wayne before the amused gaze of the brothers. He then gave way to a guitar solo finally performed with great technique, heating up the meeting in which investors fully convinced to invest in the musical prodigy.

— That's my kid, you lil shits!

Instead, unsurprisingly, the only one unimpressed was the legitimate heir to Wayne Enterprises. He rolled his eyes thinking that the oldest was a stocking sucker, a mere flattering of cute words and empty feelings.

Someone like that couldn't make his ladybug happy.

However, seeing her so delighted now releasing her hand to take herself putting bot hands in her own cheeks by giving them little taps to lower her blush was the final blow for him to declare his total displeasure to the amateur musician. Wayne hated that feeling of bitterness, so he huffed angrily.

Alright, now take it low.

Now I need my sunshine girl, right here, as the crowd starts to cheer.

Don’t take it personal, mate. Don’t get too emotional.

You know how It is...

"How dare you?! Do you want to die young or what?!" He saw red, of course, the fuckboy is flirting with his marigold in front of him, the nerve. And of course, the musician smiled when he saw him getting angry, it was clear that this was just a game, a provocation on how he was playing with him, only as a Couffaine could when fooling around with the object of his entertainment.

He loved being loved and hated, it was fun.

— Uh ... We'll soon bury him, right?

— Yup.

Jason whispered to his brothers when they noticed the contained fury of the minor among them, they knew that once provoked the assassin prince there would be no human power to stop him.

Rest in peace, Luka Couffaine. Good friend, good artist. We will remember you for what you were, champion.

If you can scream like Axl Rose

Or sing like Christina show after show

If you've got a heart and soul

You can rock and roll

If you've got a heart and soul

You can rock and roll

Ooh, yeah

You can rock and roll.

The performance ended with an innocent smile and an expectant look on behalf of the vocalist as soon as his fingers finished with the last chord of his guitar, so when he took it off he received the energetic baker's daughter in his arms who embraced him warmly when the high command of the label gave their approval of him.

Luka Couffaine would be the next star, the exotic apprentice of the living rock legend and MDC designs' most precious jewel.

Get moving, Austin Moon! Who knows you, XY ?!

— I told you! You did It, you idiot!

— Oe, oe! I must learn better than to doubt your trust in me, ma mélodie.

Tender giggles were heard from the girl's mouth as she hid her face in the teenager boy's chest, aggressively grabbing the lapels of his leather jacket in a desperate attempt to hide her blush at such a loving nickname. Then when looking away and raising her face to meet the relaxed features of the French guy, both succumbed to sharing a giggle at the moment when in a change of position the aspiring soloist kissed the back of the young woman's hand, who he regarded her as his most ingenious symphony.

Little did they know that a certain person burned with anger looking around him in red, after all he thought that he was the only person who made her smile like that. The green-eyed felt weak from falling to something as gross as jealousy, but no one had prepared him to endure a suave musician.

— Heya, pixie pop! Would you mind introducing your friend to us?

—Ah, Jay-Jay! I longed to present you all for a long time.

Luckily, it was the albino tuft guy who intervened to sneakily separate the couple, putting himself in the middle of both while embossing a charming smile and a relaxed expression on his face.

— Sup kid! Here's Jason Todd. You know, the cool one. And these idiots next to me are my brothers...This one at my right is Tim Drake, the coffee rat. And the other one with the stupid face is Dick Grayson, the dick. Oh, and the dwarf is lil D-...

— Damian Wayne.

Suddenly the mentioned one appeared, narrowing his eyes challengingly during the brief exchange of glances he shared with the artist in a non-verbal competition. Too bad the guitarist didn't know he was competing.

— Enchanté, guys. Mon trésor told me a lot about you.

"Ma mélodie? Mon trésor? Yah, this guy is asking for it… ” He chattered his teeth in anger and even without trusting the intentions of the stranger man, as he said before, he knew the ones of his type. Young rock stars were all the same.

— Guys.. This is Luka Couffaine ... My boyfriend.

Has anyone heard that? It seems that something broke slowly inside the american heir as how Damian could almost hear Kagami Tsurugi whispered on his mind: "You hesitated."

Heart and soul - The Jonas Brothers

youtube

#daminette #damian x marinete #damimari #marinette x damian #maribat #lukanette #luka x marinette #miraculous salt #mlb x dc

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xwolfbonds · 3 years

Text

Plotted starter for @trashedrps Talon/Solann

Talon felt the flesh and fur over his nose wrinkle, pulling up along his snout as he bared his teeth. Two rows of sharp fangs caught the light from the morning sun, glowing with an almost sinister intent. The fur along his back rose towards the sky while every muscle in his four-legged body tensed. His attack posture was sloppy. His back right leg wobbly. Fresh blood stained his flank, painting the snow white fur in streaks of red. The shaft from an elven arrow protruded from his body, the tip lodged perfectly in one of his joints making even the slightest movement painful.

He cursed the pointy ear hunters for what they had done, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame them. They’re hunting, doing their duty to provide meat and substance for their clan, for people who depended on them. Traveling in wolf form had its advantages. Tracks were harder to follow. He could confuse his pursuers by mingling his prints with those of other wolves heading in the opposite direction. Hell even his senses were far more acute. While in wolf form sight was sharper, colors were brighter, smells were more intense and the slightest breeze that tickled his fur as he blew past rung out like a howling whirlwind, a tempest in his ears. Talon could pinpoint the sound of a branch snapping from miles away. Could hear the scoff of heavy boots against the hard soil and decide how best to avoid those his master had sent to track him down.

But like with any form of magic, there was always a price. A trade-off that had to be made. The wolf allowed him to survive. It also made him a meal. His meat was now food for larger predators, for demons and darkspawn, or the occasional hunter. His white fur the perfect blanket or rug. The elves had been skillful in their hunt, experts with the bow and arrow, but they were wise. Seeing the unusual pattern in Talon’s moves, in his style of retreat. Perhaps even seeing the spark of humanity in his eyes. They figured out what he was, and although their stomachs rumbled and growled with hunger, they had the mercy to move on.

But now Talon faced down a different predator. He caught the sound of heavy boots imagining an armored soldier. He was ready to lunge forward. To scare the man or at the least catch him off guard long enough for him to make an escape. As his muscles tensed, ready for the jump, his back leg buckled, dragging the wolf down with a painful yelp. There was too much blood lost. His body had grown too weak to hold the spell.

The change came quick, over in a matter of seconds. His fur retracted back into his body, bones popped and broke, realigning and shaping themselves back into a human skeleton. Flesh tore and knotted back together. Dark hair, the color of endless night, sprouted from the top of his head. The cool morning air swept in, chilling and stinging Talon’s naked and sweat drenched body. Talon curled into himself, one arm wrapping around his quivering knees as the other reached out, his fingers desperately searching for something to hold on to, to use, to pull himself up. Yet all this weaken mage could do was scowl and wait for death.

#trashedrps #w/solann

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crowtongued · 3 years

Text

Despite Gyr’s towering size and Protem’s own considerable height, both stepped lightly through the gardenesque corridors, past the enormous crow-statue, into the back room. At first, only a waft of scent hit them, and then a wall of steam, smelling mildly of salt and more strongly of medicinal herbs carried by warm water vapor.

Dressed in all-white against a backdrop of white stone, his hair the color of fresh snow and his skin only marginally less pale, Protem moved like an ethereal phantom. Despite his unseeing eyes, he stopped before the steps, extending a hand for Gyr to guide him. The larger Reachman took it delicately, and paced himself with Protem’s steps, leading him like some sort of regal king of highest importance.

When they reached the bottom, they came to the medical area just beneath the stairs, where Skucheetsa’ster kept her supplies and ingredients and a soft, fur bed for her patients. Presently that bed was occupied; Alekt, their birth-Clan’s heir, and his branch-clan’s Eye--his second-in-command--Reno.

Ster greeted them warmly, the Khajiit’s emerald eyes standing out in sharp contrast against her pitch-black fur, set into delicate features partially hidden by long, lynx-like fur.

A few brief words are exchanged before Ster steps aside to make way for Gyr. He makes a face, most of it amusement, at the redhead curled up close to Alekt’s side, and Alekt himself having perhaps curled in closer in his unconscious state.

Awake and healthy he would seldom be caught so vulnerable, much less anything that anyone would dare call cuddly, but here--right now--in this Sanctuary, weak and exhausted and away from judging eyes, a small lapse in the untouchable front the young leader-to-be constantly upheld.

Carefully peeling Reno off of him without waking the redhead was no easy matter--but with enough patience, Gyr managed to get Alekt away from him, picking him up bridal-style and awkwardly shimmying out from under the stairs before standing to his full height so he wouldn’t bump his head.

His young Chief was still breathing, if shallowly, and his wounds had been treated the night before and were properly dressed now, but there was no such thing as Too-Careful.

Any protests and whines from the unconscious Eye were shushed as Protem brushed a few fingers through red locks, murmuring in a soft whisper, “We’ll return him to you soon.”

The white-clad Seer likewise moved from the healing hut under the stairs, and the two of them departed. As they headed for the portal at the entrance of the Sanctuary, two mighty wolves--void-black with violet eyes--flanked on either side of Protem and Gyr, and stepped through the portal with them.

Their path took them first through the Evergloam, the trees creaking and birds crackling at them, ominously loud in the dark forest of no wind. Wisps occasionally danced in their path, before vanishing or floating away. Other dark wolves and wraiths watched them from the shadows, bare-chested Shrike women crouching on the rocks to look below here or there, but nothing stood in their way or bared its fangs.

Of the many dilapidated, half-crumbling ruins that dotted the thick forests in lonely vigil, one looked to be some cathedral or temple in startlingly good repair. Its windows were all in-tact, fine stain glass murals, and standing protected within its interior was a statue.

Though in the likeness of a bird, this was no standard crow. The great figure appeared to be crafted out of ebony or some other shiny black stone, its elongated neck bristled in hundreds--maybe thousands--of small, sharp feathers intricately carved. Its brows were raised and crested upward, and from its tail extended long, intricately flowing feathers, more ribbon-like than any bird seen in Tamriel. Veins of glittering red gemstone ran down the center of each feathers’ stem and ended in patterned eyelets. A masterpiece that would drive any treasure-hunter mad with greed to have it.

Yet the statue was not unguarded. Inside the temple were two towering Crow-Wraiths, standing atop beast-like feet with menacing talons, their horrifying skeleton forms dressed in dark grey-blue rags and cowel hoods, the wings from their backs exaggerating their size further and scythes held in their hands. Their eyes, while hollow pits, held an undeniable, unquenchable hunger to them, no matter what they gazed upon, and there were more who patrolled the outside grounds on guard.

Though as Gyr and Protem stepped forward, none of these Daedra tried to stop them or cut them down, and a portal stood waiting to let them through, from one plane into another.

Into a place made up of darkness and dim glowing plants and long, extensive caves.

Their entrance is far from subtle. Here, this place is inhabited by people and crows and wolves, and they notice Gyr and Protem’s arrival immediately. The youngest of faces all crowd each other in a herd to see, before older members follow, and there is a chorus of quiet, curious, concerned clicks and croaks among each other. A most notable word that commonly passes their lips is Vergen--the Guardian.

Gyr and Protem ignore them all and keep moving down the corridor, and anyone in their path immediately skitters out of the way, only to join the crowd of onlookers that hovers at their heels to follow.

As they grow near to Protem’s quarters, an older member of the Clan wisely steps in the way of all the looky-loos to bar them, shooing them away. It doesn’t get rid of all the curious youth, but it keeps them from continuing to dog Gyr and Protem’s steps the whole way there.

For as important a role as Protem holds as the Clan’s Seer, his living space is quite modest. A small chamber, lit by glowing flora, housing a small garden of herbs, a table of ceremonial items and dwemer mechanisms--and in one corner--a table for eating and a bed.

There is already a stone bench, intricately carved along the sides and cushioned by furs, where Gyr sets Alekt down carefully and steps back.

A young fawn approaches them to sniff at Alekt briefly, then to Protem to nose his hand. He rewards the creature with a few pets and a stroke of its ears. While the animal is clearly a young deer, its colors are unusual--dark black with lavender spots and stripes that seem to dimly glow, not unlike some of the fungi clinging to the walls of Protem’s cave.

He lowers himself down to his knees and continues stroking the creature with his hands, and after a moment it lays down in front of him, closing its eyes and resting its head in his palms. He continues to give it affection until its calm, its head lowering with his hands into a willing doze onto the grass.

When Gyr takes an axe to the Vale fawn’s slim neck, it feels no pain. Protem begins to speak in a low murmur, his fingers gliding over the speckled back of the beheaded deer with magic alighting across his fingers.

“Namira, Lady of Decay, Queen of the Spirits and the Dead; I beseech you as a humble mortal and a Child of the Reach. Take this innocent life into your embrace, and let its blood and its flesh feed the unseen creatures of your sphere that wiggle and writhe in the places disregarded as lesser by Men and Mer. Let my words reach you in reverence, that our bodies are yours for the taking at the End Of All Things, and bow my head in respect to you and your agents who work quietly in the deepest dark.”

He stands to move towards Alekt, his fingers still glowing, and brushes them over his wounded side where his healing shadows no longer reach, ever since his battle against the Dark Storm and the wound inflicted by the Gray Host.

“I ask of you; take the life I offer, so that these proud wings don’t return to the earth too soon, on the promise that they will be yours one day--but not this one. That these claws and beak will make you and your servants many more offerings, and do your bidding faithfully, as we have always done, and as we always will.”

The magic remains at his fingertips a while more as he traces them around the wound, and then eventually the light fades as his pact is completed.

Gyr quietly moves the corpse of the deer, picking it up from the ground with care and respect, and resting it gingerly among the plants of Protem’s garden, head and all, for the worms and the maggots to feast upon as promised.

#drabble #muse: Alekt #muse: Gyr #muse: Protem #ESO verse #tw animal death #tw decapitation

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