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bajingoarts · 5 months

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The Ratigans

Portraits of the Ratigan family members. Read more for all their names and backstories!

FAIR WARNING!! Some of this is very sad. Ratigan turned to a life of crime after a life of great sadness and tragedy...

Large credit to @suzie-guru for basically helping me create them and flesh them out.

Patreon (18+) | Twitter | Blusky

In order from left to right and down:

Seamus Ceannaire Ratigan

Seamus was a Rat of great integrity and pride. He did much in his community to try and uplift the local rat population. He rallied, gave speeches, and organized local marches in order to further the betterment of the Rat populous, often undermined and forgotten by the public at large. He believed in being better than what others thought of them, proving wrong the assumptions that Rats were all shifty, underhanded, feral, and prone to criminal activity. He taught these values to his family throughout his life. He was horribly disabled after protecting his oldest son Padraic, from a bigoted attack instigated by anti-rat sentiment. He was never the same after that. He died a few years after.

Losa Bella Ratigan

Seamus’s “beautiful rose” Losa was a child of both Italian and Irish Rats, and she had excelled in her youth as a popular operatic star. She sang in multiple languages and had even gigged at the English Opera House. She sang at one of the events Seamus spoke at. Each saw what the other excelled at and they fell madly in love. After Seamus was attacked, Losa was forced to support the family on her own. She resorted to petty theft and bartering in order to put food on the table. She survives her husband and most of her children now, and she lives in Ratterton trying hard to keep her husband's legacy alive. She’s highly disappointed at the state of her eldest son and mourns the tragedy of her family, but she remains a steadfast and confident woman.

Padraic Ratigan

The eldest son and most intelligent member of his family. Padraic was the pride and joy of his parents. A testament to the future rats could have with enough hard work and dedication. Padraic was accomplished in math, literature, engineering, and arts at a very young age. Despite losing his father at the age of 15 and endless family tragedy, his intelligence and tireless fight for a better life earned him a prestigious scholarship to Cambridge University. However, after a deadly rampage through the school he left and never returned. After the incident, Padraic went abroad with forged papers, eventually earning his degree as a Professor of Mathematics. He returned to England after years to begin building his criminal empire. After trying to overthrow the English monarchy, Padraic was defeated and placed in jail, where he now currently resides.

Lorcan Ratigan

The third youngest and the second son, Lorcan was all burning passion. He loved a good time and a good toss in the sheets with both lads and lassies. He led his life with his whole heart, unconcerned with what others thought of him. He often acted as the muscle when Padraic, Sorcha, and him got into mischief. Often the one completing all the dirty work neither of them wanted to do. But he was always happy to do so. Though not the smartest in his family by any means, he was unflinchingly loyal to them and to the ones he cared about. He began helping Padraic when he returned to build the criminal empire, moving shipments and scaring anyone who dared go against their family. While working at the docks he met a young debutante mousette. Their whirlwind romance led to an unexpected pregnancy. Lorcan took the fall for a scheme of Ratigan’s and was offered freedom in exchange for information on him. But Lorcan, ever loyal, refused to give up his brother. He was executed for his crimes, leaving his lover alone with their unborn child.

Sorcha Ratigan

The eldest daughter and second oldest child, Sorcha Ratigan is a calm, cool, and beautiful Queen of the Ratigan family. Though just as intelligent as her brother Padraic, there were limited options available to a rat woman. So she devoted herself to her career as a performer, following in their mother’s footsteps. She traveled abroad to Italy to train in their opera houses and spend time with her mother’s family there. Once she returned, she joined Padraic’s empire as a spy and informant. With Sorcha’s wit, confidence, and allure, she was able to handily trick men into giving her whatever she wanted. Money, vacations, and information. After Lorcan’s passing however, she blamed Padraic and left abroad to Italy where she currently resides, living with local artists and performing.

Saoirse Ratigan

The second daughter and fourth child. Saoirse is a firebrand. She has the justice seeking strength of her father and is a devoted civil rights activist. She heads labor unions, suffragette meetings, and protests at unfair legal proceedings for rats. She’s been arrested several times for disturbing the peace and for general unruliness. Her unwavering need to do the right thing has estranged her a bit from her older siblings once they got involved in crime. She believes in trying to do the right thing through uplifting the community, not through dark back alley deals. She currently works in a factory still living with their mother and taking care of her.

Rodrick Ratigan

Affectionately referred to as “Rod” by his family, Rod was always interested in the newly discovered use of electricity. He would experiment with coils and currents whenever he could, though often not aware of how dangerous it was. He might have gone on to school as Padraic did, but a plague fell over Ratterton at the time, taking him far too soon.

Carmella and Ciaran

The twins and youngest of the family. Completely inseparable, they were little mischievous tricksters. The twins were not in the world for very long though. Ratterton lacked proper medicine and trained doctors, so when the plague came and Cairan fell terribly ill there was little the family could do for him. Carmella was never the same after her twin brother passed, and she passed away years later from the same illness. It was said she passed with a smile, happy to be reunited with her twin.

#the great mouse detective #tgmd ocs #ocs #ratigan #padraic ratigan #Ratigan family #head canon #my art #year of the rat #rat #furries #rat furries

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block-list-poster · 1 year

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🚩 UPDATED BLOCKLIST 🚩

FASH / NAZIS / HOMOPHOBIC / TRANSPHOBIC :

fauxincraux

NATO-proxy-war-enjoyer

racist-virgin-freed

Retardworld

Hunting-brother

gas-station-dick-pill

Souf-v-norf-world-cup-final

carl-carwindows

pagan-larper

tentacion2099

rejoice-the-sun

vi-sigoth

fartshals

lestemplesvivants

Crazy-brazilian

Boopsloop747

Huntard-rector

Pnzr

Meatgirlfriend

the-perfect-wagnerite

tradcathwife

andrew-diamondbackson

Moonlitmartyr

brainclot

saintwaif

Live-laugh-larp

Psykonautt

rebelsinchadd

Rtrixie

Transphobegk

p1sswallet

crazyfartinternet2

highcostofloathing

fedkaczynski

Vonsalomon

beanwelder-flush-pass

Foxmulders4waifu

Returnoftheprince

Crownedpatriot11

Oddmaidenn1

Localdaturaconservatory

Gigachadofthewoods

Narwhaled-prairiesupremmacist

Onatuegrospatapouf

scarabgiving

Esera

nationalisedgf

euronymousbosch

gsirvitor

s34b4ss

whitetrashappalachiancryptid3

unrelentingly-dentheaded

safetynot6uaranteed

barbieplasticsurgeon

qwertyu858

hennpilled

anarcho-gunman-gen5

thekanucklehead

popegoodvibes-v7

bimboid

msburgundy

scarabesque

platypusdictatorship

9th11-nevar5get-dahmersaur

Uncle-cazador

cannotbestormed-scharfuehrer

Draugenrarities

Athaulf2

walpurgisnvcht

angarion-hierophant

merkurkind-quex

drmung69

gunklubsocal

hexenkring2

3r4d

Saintprocula

Yimra

itstimewehavesomesoliddick

call-me-remi

smog5480ktmcu

blackhillsmatter-iii-blacker

0ttosgotahammer

42-bltzkrgfrtz-42

mr-phoenix-downer

Thivvy

71-mach-1-silver

slavicgerman

rockymountainjewhadeen

Toxicblonde

m3n4c3v35537

bunniesagainstgovernments

mousette

pharmaretard

inhighcotton

its-the-real-me

nutsacktorturer

mairanovsky

#blocklist #block list #Fash blocklist #racist blocklist #I didn’t post on my account because I don’t want to be mass reported by these people #Reblog and help spread awareness #report

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sacrifesse · 6 months

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💾 ⋆˙⟡♡ COMPUTER iD PACK 〰️

╰┈┈➤ REQUESTED BY ANON ｡

— NAMES : internette , webbe , blu(e) , bluesse , techette , computette , linuxe , electronique , screene , screenette , memorie , memorette , mouse , mousette , browsette , informationne , netette , data , graphique , digi , digitesse , wiresse , programme , programette , intelligette , virus(se)

— PRONOUNS : internet/internets/internetself , net/nets/netself , web/webs/webself , blue/blues/blueself , technology/technologies/technologyself , tech/techs/techself , computer/computers/computerself , linux/linuxs/linuxself , electronic/electronics/electronicself , screen/screens/screenself , memory/memories/memoryself , browser/browsers/browserself , information/informations/informationself , info/infos/infoself , data/datas/dataself , graphic/graphics/graphicself , digital/digitals/digitalself , digi/digis/digiself , wire/wires/wireself , program/programs/programself , intelligent/intelligents/intelligentself , intelligent/intelligence/intelligenceself , virus/viruses/viruseself

— TiTLES : (pronoun) who resides in the depths of the internet , (pronoun) who resides in the depths of the web , (pronoun) who types www before every website name , (pronoun) who thinks in 0’s and 1’s , the lover of tech(nology) , (pronoun) who lives inside a computer , the lover of linux , the linux lover , (pronoun) who taps on the computer screen, politely asking the viewer to let (pronoun) out of the computer , the one of vast memory , (pronoun) who click click clicks through the web using (pronoun) mouse , the user of browsers , the consumer of information , the digital one , the wired one , the computer program , the programmed one , (pronoun) who is programmed , the artificial one , (pronoun) who can easily be infected by a virus

— GENDERS : computergender , digisomnic , computerboygirl , computercatic , Y10Kglitchic , webgender , cursedwebic , pinkwebtigender , gendervirtual/genderdigital , 🌐💾emojic , virtualthing , virtualcute , virtualcatthing , virtualboyprincess , virtualgirlprince , intechline , gendersoftware , nightwebic

pt: computer id pack

requested by anon /end pt.

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cemeterything · 11 months

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hiiii, mousette (steel mill painter) is some kind of fascist global warming denier [???]- reblogs from a blog called "naturalrights-r*tard"

couldn't find evidence of all the points here but they are some kind of pro life trad weirdo so blocked regardless, thanks for the heads up

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 1 year

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① Tell me about yourself

(...............)

(Galileo frowning)

Galileo: "What a strange creature. Is it a bat?"

Galileo: "I don't know who you are, but I don't owe you an answer."

② What are your likes and dislikes?

(...............)

(Galileo sighs as hard as he can at Mousette.)

Galileo: "Like: star observation."

Galileo: "Dislikes: ancient knowledge and the stupidity of turning away from the truth."

③ Are you a human or a vampire?

Galileo: "I could probably answer any way I want with just a few words一don't trust the words of others. Try to get a little closer to the truth yourself."

Galileo: "Also, Moussette, you say? You are much more mysterious than I am."

> Francis Drake Interview

Not 100% accurate. Please do not repost.

Source: https://twitter.com/IkemenVampire/status/1620014585712459778

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp jp #ikevamp galileo #galileo galilei #ikevamp spoilers #ikevamp #cybird

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gunraekae · 5 months

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love transcending time - aka the ikemen vampire prologue unnecessarily narrated

>ikemen vampire

>everyone x reader

>a/n: as i've promised, here's the lil project I was working on, where I wanted to write the ikemen vampire story, with as much convergence between the routes as possible. this is the first chapter for now (since I'm not sure how much text tumblr allows rip). thank u again for reading, have a wonderful day darling!

Chapter I: The Mysterious Gentleman

I thought amethysts would match the luxury of the Louvre, but as every destination I’ve visited in Paris so far has shown me, I am once again below their standards. One thing that can validate my presence in this opulent establishment is my equal fascination with the historical wonders in its deluxe walls. Leonardo Da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa” in one room and Jacques-Louis David’s “Coronation of Napoleon” in another, there was an abundance of legendary pieces and an unfortunate lack of time to fully appreciate each one. The museum itself was a work of art, the Parisian sunlight dappling the rooms in a way that only flattered the inside art. Ever since my aunt had treated me to this trip, the Musée de Louvre was the location I was most eager for, hence the destination being saved for last. In my excitement, I left my aunt back at our hotel to secure myself as much time as possible to explore its vast curation. My travelling blog was one step away from its virtual death without its recent updates, but the Paris trip had revived it like no other, and if I was to be writing its last issue for a while, it had to be on the Louvre. “Two Hours at the Louvre: what you have to see.” The little mascot that my friend had created for it, Mousette, dangled around my purse strap, and with a playful gleam in its beady eyes, it seemed to beckon me to a specific painting. A gangle of curious tourists crowded around almost every painting rendering otherwise pleasant dispositions into polite shoving. Still, the Coronation, an expansive painting that spanned across a whole wall, was particularly compelling. If I stepped closer it’s almost as if I can be in it. However, a particularly stubborn group persisted in staking their territory around it, and I would have faced my second embarrassment for the day if not for a last-minute saviour. Elegant long fingers held my arms upright in a comfortingly secure grip, and just in case gravity would have been more unkind, he stood near enough where I could descend into even stronger arms.

“Pardonne-moi mademoiselle, vous allez bien?” A rich French accent wrapped in dulcet tones broke me out of my stupor. In hopes that warmth had not shown my embarrassment, I answered assuredly and quickly brushed myself off (I’d worn my most exquisite outfit after the last couple of days of falling short). I chanced a peek at the kind stranger and my previous efforts of saving composure were as ungraceful as my fall was. A vision of a gentleman seemingly carved from gold with eyes that held endless tragedy and romance stared worriedly back. If all the time in history was dedicated to creating perfection he would be immortalized in the man in front of me. Aside from his Adonis-like features, he looked out of place, as if he very clearly did not belong in this time. A vicuna suit in the rich colours of gold and brown framed his figure perfectly, but the very style of it was the sort that a vampire in a gothic romance might have worn. “Ah, mais vos boucles d'oreilles.” he knelt to retrieve my fallen earrings and in the same graceful motion, cradled them in his palm. “Améthyste… charmante,” he mused. A small grateful smile came to me and still entranced by his aura, I allowed him to step closer. Bergamot and cedarwood enveloped me. “Puis-Je?” Once allowed, he swept back the hair from my shoulder with delicate fingers. His breath fanned the juncture between my neck and my shoulder, his Aurelian gaze trained on my face. When our eyes met, a delightfully dizzying sensation brushed over me, as if a finger silenced each of my senses. I know we are in Paris but this is too amorous an act to be coming from a stranger. “That’s a lovely fragrance,” he commented.

“Thank you, I got that perfume here in Paris,” I gulped, my breath unsteady.

“Oh… but I wasn’t referring to your perfume.”

His accent, which I surmised was dominantly French, had more depth to it; like it was a melangé of a hundred different accents. After securing the amethyst earrings, he tucked my hair behind my ears and with an almost reluctant exhale, he stepped back. Whatever spell I was under broke. “Exquisite,” he whispered under his breath. A gasp that sounded more like a croak received his praise, which at least earned me a chuckle from the mysterious gentleman.

“My rogue earring is certain to behave itself now. Merci.”

“Not at all. It was thanks to the earring that I was granted the good fortune to meet you.” I escaped his dizzying charm by glancing back at the painting that caused this scene. “Did you know that it’s the second-largest painting in the Louvre?” Perhaps in addition to my article, I can write tips on how to stumble upon handsome gentlemen. Just trip clumsily in front of them and you too can win a conversation! His old-world sort of manner was enchanting, and it urged me to hear more of his voice. “This painting marked the turn of the modern empire and it was highly regarded as this masterful piece of propaganda,” the way he spoke of the painting was almost intimate as if it was a nostalgic memory he could muse about rather than a fragment of history.

“You seem to be well acquainted with this painting monsieur,” I replied. His eyes crinkled at the edges, and a deep chuckle rose from him again.

“More than you could ever know,” he cryptically joked. Despite the strangeness of it, I found myself politely laughing along with him. The gentleman gave a parting glance at the image, granted me a longer one, and with a resigned smile, bid me farewell, “Bon voyage, Mademoiselle.” His beige overcoat majestically flowed after him as he headed down a hallway, presumably to view the Mona Lisa next. When he left my sight, all good reason returned and I hastily checked the time. It’s been an hour and a half already? If I was to meet up with my aunt in another half-hour for brunch at the hotel, I needed to at least see the Mona Lisa as well. Believing that the cryptic gentleman knew the quickest way there, (and perhaps wanting to see him again) I naturally followed where he went.

A dark oak door with intricate carvings was at the end of the corridor, presumably where the gentleman would have entered. And though it was unlikely that a closed door would mean that another exhibit would be beyond it, or that a visitor should even come upon it, a nagging instinct in me compelled me to step towards it nonetheless. I peeked in between the cracks of the door and it was only broken clocks, dusty vases, and concealed paintings that furnished the hallway beyond it. A whiff of time forgotten. Perhaps this was a hidden treasure that the Louvre set aside for visitors with more arcane tastes. My hand on the door handles, I opened it, and unlike what its wood suggested, it gave way almost too easily. The hallway itself was smaller than I’d observed, barely wide enough to fit two people inside. Unlike the rest of the Musée, none of the artefacts had labels or descriptions, likely being a storage area. And yet, the nagging feeling told me to explore further before I should turn around. I’m already in too deep to back out now. A sense of unease did settle upon me when I realized that the deeper into this hallway I ventured into, the narrower and darker it became. Soon, the comforting drawls of the tourists from behind were much more desirable than the dank atmosphere of this tunnel. The reward for this reckless curiosity was a light at the end of this tunnel, and I ran towards it only to escape the constricting air of this place. I ran, but even without that, a force was already pulling me towards the light. Much too late, I fought against the confines of this invisible force, but it seemed that even gravity was against me in this battle. With every struggle, the light seemed to grow wider until it flared angrily and enveloped me. I shut my eyes as tightly as I could but the brightness overrode all my senses and imprinted itself into my mind. I let out a final desperate gasp before my consciousness gave out.

A more merciful light invaded my senses next, this time coming from old-fashioned chandeliers hanging from a white ceiling. A hallway with mahogany wood and a red carpet spread out in front of me, dark oak doors with the same intricate carvings as before spanned the right wall, and tall four-rowed windows sported the opposite wall. I brushed aside the mahogany curtain beside me and looked at what I was leaning on. The same dark oak door I had entered was behind me, so naturally, this had to be another hallway in the Louvre, right? The style was completely different as if this exhibit was in an entirely different time than the rest of the Musée, and frankly, looked more like a private mansion than a museum exhibit. I whipped over towards the window as a sudden sense of alarm hit me. It’s night… A splatter of gleaming stars spread across the canvas of the raven sky, the crescent moon seemingly mocking me with its smile.

“It can’t be,” I muttered in disbelief. I may have been distracted by the gentleman, but there was absolutely no way that a whole day had passed. The last pitiful source of rationality left inside nagged at me to find a way out, but a gnawing fear prevented my body from moving.

“... What are you doing there?”

“Who’s there?” I yelled in a panic. I whirled around, only to be met by a tall, imposing man with dark hair and silver tips. He sounded clearly French but carried a deeper accent, almost Italian. His features were remarkably alluring but darkly prominent, the sort where you notice its charms in a more intimate distance. Despite his intimidating aura, there wasn’t anything too frightening about him. But the way he’s dressed is certainly… interesting. Maybe it’s some sort of costume for a play the museum is holding? The man wore a dark soldier’s suit but dressed down with an unbuttoned front, an untucked button-up shirt, and a ruffled collar. Sheepishly, I decided to ask for his help, “Pardon. I’m trying to get back to the musée, can you help me open this door?”

“What’s that? ‘Get back?’ You’re not telling me you came from that door?” Though baffled, his voice softened its initial cautious edge.

“I’m sorry, I know I may be trespassing but I got lost and saw light through this door,” I apologized, grasping at the last bouts of my sanity through this conversation. The mystery of the time aside, if I can get back that’s all that matters. Despite the confusion of the situation, a softer expression melted the man’s face. I was grateful he didn’t seem to doubt my story but felt uneasy at how he looked at me curiously—as if he couldn’t believe his eyes that I was there.

“Just what are you?” he murmured in fascination. From down the hall, I could hear the clicking of Oxford shoes and heavy leather boots. Could that be the gentleman?

“Excuse m–” The dark-haired man clapped a hand over my mouth and wrapped me in his large arms. He tugged the two of us behind a curtain, with his back shielding me from view. What the hell is he doing?

“That blasted Count is certainly taking his time this visit.”

“You’re too harsh on him, my friend. Perhaps he was distracted by a little bird.”

“I suppose under that pretentious façade he’s still a man.”

Two deep voices with thick European accents gradually came closer from the end of the hallway. Rational me knew that asking for their assistance would benefit me, but the fear inside yelled that it would be the worst idea possible. Their conversation continued unintelligibly as panic continued to surge through me.

“... to my Broer,” the huskier voice huffed. This one had a distant Dutch accent, but his English was so localized it was almost difficult to discern. His footsteps quickly faded away and presumably left the other man. This one instead had a silkier character and a silver-tongued English accent.

“You call me a dog, but between the two of us, you’re the dog and your brother’s clearly the master.” The voice was scarily close, and by instinct, I stuck myself closer to him for safety. The thud of Oxford leather footsteps was in front of me now, and I held my breath in a pathetic attempt to hide myself. “I do believe I hear a little bird fluttering her wings where she should not be,” the man whistled wolfishly, “and this bird is quite adorable thinking that she could hide from me.” I trembled in his arms. But he held me gently. His jade eyes met mine. They were powerful. Earnest. The fear in me slowly subsided in his presence. I don’t know what’s going on, but I want to trust him. I nodded to show that I would be quiet, and he uncovered my mouth. When the sound of his footsteps faded away, we stepped out from the curtain. He took my hand in his firm grip and quickly led me away.

“You need to escape before the others find you. It’s already bad that he knows you’re here, so we need to move quickly.” Escape? What kind of place is this that I need to escape from? “Don’t let go,” he reassured me as he squeezed my hand. As I watched his wide shoulders in front of me, the fear soon washed away. The rational side of my brain knew that I shouldn’t trust a man I just met, but so far, he’d done nothing but help me. And in this mysterious place, there didn’t seem like many choices anyway.

“By Jove, this is what you were hiding, Leon?” Azure eyes with a wolfish twinkle were the first things I noticed. This man was devilishly handsome, with a proud grin and a mole above his chin. His well-tailored navy suit had an unbuttoned collar, giving the otherwise sharp getup a more wolfish feel. He raked his eyes down my body and swiped his tongue across his lips. His gaze grew darker as my breath staggered. “You’re a lovely one,” he breathlessly sighed. I shivered in disgust. His eyes crinkled in amusement, not at all intimidated by my display of courage.

“Did the Count bring you back as a little treat for us?” he mused, slowly inching his face towards my neck. “Truly exquisite…”

My saviour clicked his tongue. We’re caught.

“From what I can deduce, you’re trying to help her escape,” he said, “Now why would you go and do that, Leon? I rather fancy her type, you know. She looks absolutely scrumptious.” He leaned forward and tried to get close, but “Leon” blocked me from his fascinated gaze. He blocked off our possible exit in the smoothest of fashions.

He caught my wary gaze. “Ah, maybe you fancy me too, judging by the way you’re looking me over.” He may look completely like a gentleman, but he’s a rotten flirt!

“It just had to be you,” “Leon” sighed in stark irritation.

“Why do you want to help her escape? Let’s invite her to the banquet. She deserves a warm welcome, don’t you think?” he interjected.

“That’s not up to me or you.”

“Don’t be so stodgy, old boy! I can’t think of anyone who’d complain about having a lovely girl at that drab table. It would really bring some colour to this mansion.” Mansion? There’s no mansion connected to the Louvre. What is he talking about?

“Messieurs.” A cool-toned voice interrupted. A man with a neutral expression entered the hallway. He was dressed in a grey butler’s garb, his posture immaculate and his steps measured. “It is time for supper. Everyone’s gathering in the dining room now if you please.” I peeked out from above “Leon’s” shoulder, and his steely grey eyes locked onto mine. “You too, Mademoiselle.”

Finding my voice, I croaked out, “There’s no need. I’m not planning on staying for supper. I was, uh, actually just trying to get back.”

“But the lord of the manor is eagerly awaiting your presence.” “The lord of the manor?” Is this really someone’s place?

“How does he know I’m here?”

“He can answer your questions at supper.” I’m really not getting any answers until then.

“Or will you refuse his gracious invitation after breaking into his house?”

“I…” I wanted to defend myself, but knew that there was really no excuse. It was my own curiosity that I couldn’t quell, and ultimately, my fault that I ended up here.

“Allow me to escort you.”

The butler led me down winding velvet-carpeted hallways. Memorizing the direction proved quite difficult with its identical doors, windows, and mahogany walls. A complicated mess of shame and lingering fear settled in my stomach, but voicing any concern seemed like it would end badly for me. Staying polite and pleasing to the master of the house may prevent an incoming lawsuit for trespassing, and I’d be a fool to go against his wishes. I studied my guide; his crisp suit and spotless white gloves gave him a sophisticated air, one almost too graceful for a mere butler. His earlier statements proved he was a “no-nonsense” and stern man, and I could tell the master sent him to ensure I would comply. As our makeshift party continued down the mansion’s halls, a piano's delicate, tinkling keys softly touched the air. The elegant melody grew louder as we neared a set of double doors.

“Sounds like Wolfie’s in a sprightly mood,” Arthur hummed. He leaned down towards me and whispered conspiratorially, “Very uncharacteristic of him, I’ll say.” The butler closed his eyes for a split second as if he was bracing for something terrible.

Then, he cautiously rapped three times on the door, “Pardon me. I know that you are there. Please come join us in the dining room.” The ethereal song cut short, and its pianist revealed himself.

“Go away.” The pianist carried a faint Austrian accent in a gruff voice, perturbed at the interruption. He was a beautiful man. His hair was the colour of starlight and softly fanned across his deep-sunken, lavender eyes. His delicate, doll-like face and graceful figure were the manifestation of his dreamy music. Unlike the other three, his suit seemed like it was from the Classical period, with a ruched tie and a feather in his breast pocket. Despite the elegant aura he exuded, he conversed with the butler in such a rudely familiar way.

“It is time for the banquet.”

“Why was everyone so loud?” His eyes narrowed as they zeroed in on me. “It’s her fault, isn’t it?” My fault? I just want to leave!

“It’s not like I planned to be here,” I muttered.

“Who cares? Why don’t you just go back then?” He sighed haughtily. “Unless you enjoy the idea of being everyone’s food,” he quietly said, slipping past me. …Food? He bent slightly away as if repulsed by the thought of making contact with me. “... As if the banquet wasn’t bad enough,” he murmured under his breath, loud enough so I could hear. His cold voice, a stark contrast to his music, hung beside the beautiful melodies in the air.

We descended a grand staircase, a marvel with its winding gold handrails, marble floors, and lush carpet spread on it. At the end of the steps was the gentleman in the museum, almost glowing with how perfectly he fit in this mansion.

“It’s poor manners to keep those who’ve arrived on time waiting.”

if you've made it this far, thank u once again! please leave a like/reblog/comment if you've enjoyed it <3

#cybird ikemen #ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen vampire mozart #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp x reader

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scummy-writes · 6 months

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Oh.........buddy.....

#scum talks #mousette is just like :3 #meanwhile gilbert is like *demonic noises*#i meant to post this like 3 hrs ago but i guess i never hit the Post button since i opened rumblr and there it was

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candied-boys · 3 months

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RARRQGEGRAFGAUEYEGGRAGGGGGGHJSHAGAHRAAAWRRRRRRRR LOOK AT THE CUTENESSSSSSSSS

ISSAX MOUSETTE IS ON A BOX OF APPLES!!!

Got half today and I'll get the rest tomorrow 🥰🥰

#ikevamp

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koco-coko · 4 months

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OC Info Post: Bonnabel de Saint-Germain

(This is most certainly my most self-indulgent and somehow also my most thought-out OC. Enjoy my unadulterated silliness)

@drewadoodle hi here's the mansion baby (apparently i have one for the castle trio too except that one's fully an adult so if I post her I can tag you in that one too if ya want)

General:

Full name: Bonnabel de Saint-Germain

Nickname: Bonnie, Bon-Bon (Arthur specific), Bell (Theo and Vincent specific)

Birthday: November 8th

Likes: Outdoors, Pastries, Mousette, Reading

Dislikes: Sour Flavors, Math, Rules

Background: A mysterious infant showed up on Le Comte de Saint-Germain’s doorstep one night during a banquet with the residents, and she’s been called his daughter ever since. All she came with was a homemade birth certificate, a stuffed toy of a pastel blue bat, and a wax-sealed letter. The contents of said letter are only known to Comte and Leonardo and he has refused to share it with anyone else, even Bonnie herself. A strange injection Bonnabel took as a newborn has made it so that they are unable to detect what kind of vampire she is, though Comte doesn’t seem too concerned about that fact…

Through the Ages

(aka the main differences between Bonnabel’s different ages without getting into deep spoilers because I’m writing a fic with her hehe.) (Bonnabel is almost always portrayed in the Childhood stage. Sometimes teenage [mostly with castle trio])

Childhood– Bonnabel, wild and carefree. Don’t even try to make her sit still– she’ll bite your hands with dull, stubby fangs until you let her go. The biggest nuisance and agent of chaos the house has seen in a while. Temper tantrums and dramatic outbursts are common, and as a vampire, she’s really yet to understand her strength. Still… There is something endearing about her reckless abandon and pure fascination with life. She’s sweet and kind all the same, she just has her moments.

Teenage years– Outdoor play time has turned into calm walks through the garden and snack time is now tea time. Although Bonnabel’s matured since being in single digits, everyone can tell something about her is just… off. Maybe it’s the way she’s shy about everything, how reclusive she’s become, how utterly captivated she is by space, or perhaps the way she’s withdrawn from everything other than her studies. Her self-image couldn’t be worse (how could she ever compare to the greats of history she lived amongst, really?), and she’s really been pestering Comte about her past as of late.

Adulthood– Bonnabel, after many, many challenges, trial and errors, heartbreaks, and betrayal, has finally grown into her own skin. Well, sort of. She’s gained back some of the excitement she had when she was a little girl, but it’s been distilled into a fine wit and humor. Now, she simply does as she pleases, whether that be studying something to the point of burning into her brain to simply staying in all day and catching up on some novels. She’s a vampire! She’s got all the time in the world to get things right.

Physical:

Eye color: A pale orange, with slight hints of crimson in her pupils. It’s not very noticeable from far away but in the right sunlight it’s a bit more

Hair color- Sandy blonde, like Vincent’s hair. Just a bit more colorful than that.

Disabilities- Undiagnosed because of the century, but most certainly has ADHD and dyscalculia (unable to some basic math)

Height- Childhood: 4’1, Teenage: 5’0, Adulthood: 5’11

(i dont have any drawings so um yeah i just used to ikevamp doll haha)

Relationships:

I’ll be splitting the characters into archetypes– how Bonnabel sees each of the residents as a family unit, then going a bit more in-depth.

Brothers– Arthur, Vincent, Theo, Isaac, Napoleon, Jean

– Napoleon: The big brother. No matter how Bonnabel’s feeling, whether she wants to play or vent to him, he’ll make time available. Bonnabel likes hiding and cuddling into his cape and constantly pesters him to teach her fencing. Instead, he’ll teach her how to cook pastries (it’s not like Jean or Vincent are going to do it).

– Arthur: He’s the one Bonnabel goes to if she wants to get away with something or is bored out of her mind. He’s the fun brother and almost lets her get away with anything. Especially when it comes to teasing Isaac. He’ll also sneak her chocolates from time to time. She loves playing detective with him and likes to act out scenes from books with him. Plus, Vic and Bonnie are utterly enamored with each other, so it’s always a good time with Arthur.

– Vincent and Theo: How could they not feel like her big brothers? Vincent is the only person Bonnie is nice to no matter her mood and he’ll let her watch him paint if she’s ever interested. They tried finger-painting when she was little, but she tried to eat the paint and it’s been banned for the time being.

Theo, on the other hand… It’s a bit more tenuous. Bonnabel didn’t understand being called a mutt or pup was a sign of affection at first, but the two clicked once the misunderstanding was cleared up. As a little girl, Bonnabel drew a picture of all three of them holding hands with both Vincent and Theo titled ‘big brothers’ and that might be the closest Theo was to ever crying in front of his brother. He now has it framed in his room.

– Isaac, Mozart, and Jean: All in the same boat- didn’t get along at first, but later on they became close. Mozart’s relationship with loud and wild Bonnabel is… strange, but he does seem to be able to talk sense in her. She only recently got unbanned from the music room. Mozart’s bedroom is still off limits. Isaac was wary of her (especially because she liked Arthur so much), but they get along once she’s older and quieter. Sometimes they stargaze together. Jean has always been kind to her, but never got too close. Well, until Bonnabel insisted they study reading together and now it’s not uncommon to see them reading fairy tales together. Jean has promised to teach Bonnabel fencing one day, too, behind Comte’s back.

Weird Uncles– Dazai and William

Dazai: Dazai is a nutcase, but in a fun way! He’s always speaking in riddles, but at least he’s not boring, right? She doesn’t interact with him that much, but when she does, she’s surprised by the words of wisdom she receives. She also has joined forces with him to absolutely torment Isaac, except she’s the one who has to apologize and learn a lesson. He’s fun, just weird.

William: Bonnabel doesn’t see him often. When she does, Puck is close behind and the girl and rabbit become inseparable. Bonnabel is utterly infatuated with Puck and gives him all of her attention, booping his cute little nose at every chance. The one bad thing about seeing Will is, well… tiny little Bonnabel can’t understand him at all. Vincent or Comte have to translate for her if they ever visit the villa because she’s too shy to ask him to speak simpler.

Parents– Leonardo and Comte

Comte: Dearest papa! It’s his life mission to make sure Bonnabel never has to know a day of pain or fear. Sure, perhaps the idea of raising her without the same pressures of nobility and vampirism that he did is a selfish wish, but she’s smiling everyday in the mansion. He has to be doing something right, right? Comte was Bonnabel’s whole world as a little girl. Going into her teenage years, their relationship becomes strained, much to Comte’s confusion and sorrow. (And yes, the pun in Bonnabel's name was intentional, even if he tries to deny it).

Leonardo: Babbo! Whenever there’s a Comte level matter but Bonnabel’s worried he’ll be mad at her, she goes to Leonardo. While hugging Comte smells like fine wine and perfumes, Leonardo smells like book pages and cigars. Both scents have become safe places for her. They take naps together a lot. Especially when Bonnabel is upset. Sometimes she’ll find him sleeping on the floor and join him because she’s bored, using his chest as a pillow. A lot of Bonnabel’s toys and even her bed are made by him.

Auntie and ‘Mama–’ MC/Mitsuki and Sebastian

– When Bonnabel was learning how to talk, she called Sebastian ‘Mama’ and it kind of stuck. Nowadays, she just calls him Sebby (he’s not the biggest fan, but nothing he’d really want to complain about), but sometimes they still joke about that name despite Bonnabel having zero recollection of it. Unfortunately, Bonnabel almost never listens to what Sebastian has to say unless he flicks her forehead.

Mitsuki was called Auntie from the start. Bonnabel respects her a lot and will mostly listen to her authority, so she is definitely more of an aunt than a sister to her. This is also due to Mitsuki having to help Comte in certain aspects of raising her, such as bathtime and the likes. A part of their strong connection simply is the fact they’re the only women in the mansion.

BONUS! Castle Trio (met at Teenage Stage)

Charles-Henri: After a bit of apprehension, they get along pretty well. Whenever Bonnabel starts stressing out, Charles will pop up and distract her with games, food, or something else. He also tends to encourage any of her fixations no matter what, when, how and why.

Faust: Bonnabel is completely creeped out by him, but… He seems to know her somehow. Sort of like an uncle you haven’t seen in years but keep telling you things they remember. Bonnabel thinks he might know about her birth parents, but she's too shy and nervous to ask him. He’s… polite, at least. Doesn’t seem to try and bother her very much, but he still gives odd vibes. She does not want to be alone in a room with him.

Vlad: Oh… him. Yeah. It’s weird. On one hand, they have a shared trauma they can bond over, and on the other, he’s trying to hurt her family. Sure, he saved her from certain death that one time, but his dream has become so twisted she can’t help but distrust him. Still, it’s not as if they don’t get along. Actually, they have a lot more in common than one might think.

#koco talks ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp oc #ikemen vampire oc #ikevamp oc: Bonnabel

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