#persona sable

[riddled-fingers]

woe, new pinned post be upon ye

[ psst, commissions are open btw ]

[ ko-fi ]

#my art #artists on tumblr #meet the artist #sable screams #persona sable #pinned #i needed to draw a new one ok......... dont look at me

[ghostshadow-k-r]

Finally,freedom.

At least I could draw anytime until March,I guess?

So,let us start the game,shall we?

I must admit,his outfit was a pain to draw.

As a member of the investigation team,he approches the Phantom Theives of Heart with a obvious intention,which is investigate the increasing amount of those change heart cases.

There's no doubt that the PTs didn't believe him at first,since his appearance had reminded them about their former-traitor.Our dear inceptor also thought that he won't get attached with them arrogantly.

Of course,it miserably failed.As he gets to spend more time with them,he soon finds out that they are only a bunch of silly teenagers instead of being a gang of dangerous criminals.They even befriended his only family in the world after his wife's death — Madder Stream.

When he knows that his daughter had become a "Monarch" in that distorted metaverse they had showed him once before,he can't hold but step in it with Navi by his side.If wasn't the other PT was being caught......

But,well,every deep end always ends with a bounce back.If you manage to get through it though.Fortunately,our Wolf that will never let his grip off did it.

#my drawings #mlp au #digital art #shin megami tensai persona #persona 5 #persona 5 strikers #wolf #hasegawa zenkichi #sable stream #unicorn #madder stream

[mrs-trophy-wife]

#persona #fur jacket #going for the gold #fur coat #lady #woman #sable

[skxrbrand]

NPC: Vhiarn Houndsfury

Mount: Juggernaut (Tik’haun)

Weapon: Hellblade

Legendary Regiment: Hounds of the Lady

Vhiarn Houndsfury is a Herald of Khorne and was leader of the Crimson Skull’s secondary army, under Khorsen. Known as the “Lady of Hounds” for her proficiency in Flesh Hound handling, she was the sole survivor of the attack on the Crimson Skulls by Skarbrand, N’kari, and the forces of the Exquisite Pain borrowed by the pair of them.

Currently, she survives at Kha’xanzyr’s pleasure, aiding him in his mission to find and slay Skarbrand. After having her faction all but decimated by him and N’kari, she is more than happy to assist. She has been promised a Juggernaut for her temerity, something only the favored of Kharneth receive. This puts her on track to be ascended into the ranks of the High Handed Slayers. Assuming she doesn’t die first, of course. For her dark dorsal coloration, Kha’xanzyr has dubbed her “Sable One”.

After Kha’xanzyr’s schemes ultimately fail, Vhiarn crosses paths with the Blue Eyed Bloodthirster once more and once again, serves as his right hand. She is tasked with guarding his lair, among other things, an has gained new titles: Sentry of the Blood Stones or Keeper of the Red Crystals. When Kha’xanzyr dips into one of his reclusive moods for this or that reason, it is Vhiarn who delivers his orders or commands in his place.

Vhiarn is a part of the Dramatis Personae.

#Vhiarn (Sable One); #// Vivi my beloved 🥺 #warhammer fantasy #Warhammer #Khorne #dramatis personae

[jetsetlife138]

Imaginary: Reimagined (Alastor-Fem!Reader) - Chapter 2

A Multi-Chapter Story

Previous Chapters: Intro / Chapter 1

Chapter 2: The Introduction

Chapter Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings: Reader experiences intense feelings of anxiety, discomfort, fear, and unwanted attention from a certain Radio demon.

Startled by the unexpected greeting, you pivoted swiftly in search of the elusive voice. Given the distinct static overlay accompanying the speaker, you initially anticipated seeing an antiquated television or vintage radio. However, to your astonishment, the origin was far more ominous.

The towering, gaunt figure before you exuded a distressing aura, his malevolence etched into every line of his sinister visage. As you examined him further, a labyrinth of unique features unfolded like a tapestry of the macabre, each detail more entrancingly unsettling than the last.

His penetrating leer felt like it could scorch the very depths of your soul, his eyes smoldering with an otherworldly crimson fire. The blood-red sclera lent an eerie depth, complemented by cinober irises that glowed with a supernatural intensity. Thin black pupils, sharp and unwavering, bore mercilessly into whosoever dared to meet his gaze. A burgundy oval-shaped monocle rimmed with sleek black adorned his right eye, adding an air of sophistication to his countenance.

A mischievous, broad smile unfurled across his face, a wicked crescent that exposed a set of teeth colored like sulfurous flames—sharp, pointed, and reminiscent of shards of amber. Each tooth, a gleaming weapon, hinted at a predator's cunning, a testament to the calculated danger that lurked behind the veneer of his baleful grin.

Crowning his head, peculiarity manifested in an unconventional hairstyle—an unruly cascade of fiery strawberry-red, meticulously cropped with a rebellious flair. The tips, dipped in the deepest black, created a striking contrast. Two audacious tufts of hair, tipped in the same jet black, extended defiantly from the apex, creating a distinctive silhouette, adding an almost devilish semblance.

Perched atop this vibrant display were two small, elegant black antlers—a subtle yet distinctive touch that further emphasized his unearthly presence. Together, the hairstyle and the antlers wove a tale of defiance and mystique, marking him as a character who embraced the havoc within, turning it into a crown of eccentricity.

His attire, further validating his enigmatic persona, consisted of a carmine pinstripe coat and dark cherry lapels lined with stark white; the garment exuded an air of both elegance and decay. Torn and ragged along the hem, it hinted at a history filled with battles and untold challenges. Beneath the coat, a bright red dress shirt with a bold ebony cross on the chest hinted at more profound symbolism. A black knotted bowtie with a ruby center adorned his neck, giving the apparel a subtle touch of formality.

His hands, sheathed in sable gloves, each fingertip adorned with a flash of dramatic scarlet, adding a touch of theatrical flair to his gestures as though every movement was part of an elaborate performance. Completing the ensemble, obsidian pointed-toe boots at his feet, their tips dipped in a fiery red, as if the ground itself ignited in his presence.

Maintaining a poised stance with impeccable posture, he stood with shoulders pulled back and chin elevated in a decorous and dignified pose. One arm rested gracefully behind his back, enhancing the implication of formality. At the same time, the other gripped a staff crowned by what looked to be an unusual microphone fixture, hinting at a strange fusion of worlds in his grasp.

This ambiguous figure stood as a walking paradox, a haunting blend of elegance and menace, sophistication and chaos.

Sensing your trepidation, his grin widened even further into a wicked expression that seemed to relish in your stunned reaction as well as the element of surprise. “Tongue-tied already?”

Apologizing nervously, you stumbled over your words and cleared your throat before mustering a hesitant greeting, "Um... hello."

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, sweetheart!" he exclaimed, extending his hand to clasp yours forcefully. The unexpected strength in his grip caught you off guard, smoothly drawing you closer—a bold move that sent a tingling sensation through you as you struggled to reclaim your composure. "Alastor, at your service. An absolute pleasure, I must say!"

A subtle crackle in the air marked a palpable shift, signaling a sudden transformation in his demeanor. In the blink of an eye, his welcoming host facade vanished. In its place emerged the persona of a beguiling gentleman, his intentions now veering towards the less honorable. Undeterred, he continued his greeting; his charismatic glamor, now laced with an undeniable allure, hinted at lurking danger beneath the surface. "And you, my enchanting mystery, what should I call you?" With a subtle yet commanding touch, he pressed a refined and tender kiss to the back of your hand, each second stretching into eternity as his intense gaze remained fixed on yours.

Despite your desire to reclaim your hand, it remained ensnared in his firm grip, rendering your haphazard attempts futile. Staring back at him, completely captivated, you failed to muster even the most straightforward responses, such as your own name. His aura derailed you far more than the demons you had encountered when you first arrived, surpassing even the ones who posed more direct threats.

Incoherent and nonsensical words stumbled out of your mouth, the quiver in your voice reflecting the unease that enveloped you in the magnetic field of his presence.

Growing impatient, the demon interjected, "Surely, you possess a name of your own. Come now, don't be a canceled stamp. What moniker belongs to such a captivating individual as yourself?"

As he continued speaking, you noticed his language unmistakably belonged to a bygone era. The vintage phrases and rapid-fire delivery echoed the dialogue of old black-and-white movies you had encountered over the years, particularly those with brisk and lively commentary.

His manner of speech carried a peculiar mix of disconcerting enticement, seamlessly melded with his overall style and disposition. A fleeting thought crossed your mind, contemplating whether it was a carefully crafted act or if he could indeed be a relic from the 1930s. In your current setting, where boundaries between eras blurred, the possibility of him being a genuine product of the past could be as likely as any other extraordinary occurrence in Hell.

Drawing a deep breath to steady your nerves, you eventually yielded, surrendering your name to the demon. Alastor, as you now knew him, flashed his ever-present grin, the twisted mirth dancing in his eyes as if he had just secured a coveted prize. The lobby's light seemed to flicker in tandem with the sinister satisfaction on his face.

"Why, that's absolutely delightful," he declared, testing the sound of your name on his lips. "It just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it? Splendid! Now, forgive my curiosity, but you don't strike me as a local." It was challenging to focus on his words as Alastor's eyes bore into yours, like embers dancing in the shadows. His impeccable manners and theatrical gestures were a stark contrast to the ominous air that surrounded him.

Collecting yourself, you felt your pulse quicken as you stammered, "W-what gives you that impression?" It was a feeble attempt to challenge his assumptions, but even as the words left your lips, a moment of realization struck, making you feel somewhat foolish. The truth was painfully obvious – you were undeniably human, not a demon. The air around you seemed to tighten with an awkward silence, a palpable acknowledgment of the absurdity that hung in the space between you and Alastor.

"Well, my dear," he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes, "first and foremost, you're alive. There hasn't been a living soul down here in… well, ever, to my knowledge. Your heartbeat practically sings in this abyss of torment!" His tone carried a mix of mischief and genuine fascination as if he had stumbled upon a rare and captivating treasure. "Quite the twist, isn't it?"

Another chill crept up your spine, the realization settling in that Alastor's interest extended far beyond mere pleasantries. Each syllable he uttered bore the weight of a concealed agenda, leaving you to navigate the labyrinth of his enchantment cautiously.

"Secondly," he continued, visibly unfazed by your gawking stare, "You're quite noticeably average. Hell is brimming with anthropomorphic beings. I regret to inform you that you stick out rather drastically. If your intention was to be discreet, it appears you're off your trolley!"

Perplexed, you furrowed your brow. His attempts at communication through outdated terminology failed to resonate and left you even more bewildered. "Sorry, what?"

He laughed heartily in response to your evident confusion, delighting in the disorientation you were experiencing as he playfully tapped the microphone on the top of his staff. "Hello! Is this thing on? Can you read me loud and clear?"

Battered by the relentless onslaught of mayhem and Alastor's nonsensical banter, you felt your sanity teetering on the brink of collapse. The unyielding pandemonium you had continuously endured was reaching its limit, and the existential panic lingering in your mind was now threatening to surface. You felt the unraveling of your composure, desperate for a moment of peace.

Sensing the strain on your waning mental stability, Alastor abruptly ceased his heckling. A sudden stillness replaced the dastardly mirth as he offered assistance, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Forgive me, I've been a bit uncouth. I reckon you've had quite the day with all these novel experiences! What might I fetch for you to aid in a moment of repose? Some giggle water? A gasper, perhaps?"

Once again, the unfamiliar jargon failed to resonate, intensifying your confusion. The unexpected, yet supposedly sincere, offer of abetment from the intimidating demon further disoriented you. The interaction alluded to a hidden layer of complexity within him, contributing to the overall intrigue surrounding his character.

Despite your efforts to remain composed, a heavy sigh escaped you, vocalizing the frustration that had taken place within. Your hands found solace in cradling your head, a physical manifestation of the turmoil that enveloped your thoughts.

"Look, it's Alastor, right?" His nod of confirmation prompted you to proceed as you dropped your hands to a less manic stance. "Okay, Alastor. I'm sensing a disconnect here. I'm not sure if this—" you gestured toward him, observing the quizzical tilt of his head before continuing, "... old-timey persona is your 'shtick' or whatever… But, honestly, I can't deal with this right now. While I appreciate your hospitality, up until earlier today, everything in my life was perfectly normal. Now, I'm trapped in some bizarre cartoon universe filled with humanoid monsters who apparently want me dead, and I'm having a hard time coping. So, could you give me a minute? Please?" The pain in your voice was evident, a desperate request for a moment of calm amidst the surreal madness that had become your reality.

A profound silence settled between you. Alastor's piercing gaze carefully scrutinized you while he pondered your words. While his perpetual smile never faltered, a subtle nuance in how he regarded you conveyed a hint of disappointment. It was as if he feared he had inadvertently damaged his newfound source of entertainment before fully indulging in its potential.

"Dear, I was only–"

"You heard her! Back off!"

You and Alastor swiftly redirected your focus as a commanding voice resonated across the lobby. Emerging from the distance was a feminine figure resembling a moth adorned with long white hair elegantly secured by a vibrant cherry bow. A prominent X marked her left eye, accentuating her distinctive appearance.

As the figure drew closer, you noticed the disapproving scowl etched across her face, which looked pointedly fixed on Alastor. The tension in the air heightened as the unexpected ally intervened, her presence signaling a shift in the unfolding dynamic.

"Vagatha," Alastor greeted with cool nonchalance, an almost dismissive nod accompanying his words. "Right on cue."

"That's not my name," The moth-like woman mumbled under her breath, her narrowed eyes betraying a lingering suspicion. Yet, when her attention turned to you, her demeanor transformed. A warm smile replaced the scowl, and she placed her hands protectively on your shoulders, instantly creating a sense of comfort.

"I'm Vaggie," she introduced herself amicably. "Don't let this guy scare you off. Somehow, he wormed his way into becoming the hotel's Facility Manager, but that's on a probationary period. He's already on thin ice." Vaggie's gaze shot back to Alastor, a glare loaded with unspoken challenges. Alastor, however, seemed to relish in the confrontation, his eyes crinkling in mischievous glee.

"Charlie got held up on an important phone call, so she sent me to help get you settled until she can meet up with us. Come on, we've got a room ready for you upstairs." The promise of sanctuary in the form of a bedroom thrilled you, a welcome reprieve from the brewing storm in the lobby.

"Thank you, that sounds great," you agreed, your response punctuated by a nervous swallow. You were still attempting to stifle any apprehension triggered by Vaggie and Alastor's unique features. Turning back to Alastor, you offered a polite farewell. "It was nice to meet you, Alastor. I guess I'll see you around."

To your astonishment, you recoiled as his teeth seemed to sharpen even further, the unwavering smile on his face widening at your acknowledgment. "Oh, yes, dearest. Sooner than you think," he purred, his words dripping with a subtle menace that left a trail of anticipation in their wake. The air thickened as Alastor's gaze lingered on you, a predator watching its prey, as you turned to follow Vaggie towards the large, creaking staircase.

As you climbed the grand staircase, the glare of the lobby gave way to the soft glow of sconces that adorned the walls, casting flickering shadows along the ornate patterns of the carpet. The plush and intricate designs felt as though they absorbed the echo of your footsteps, creating an atmosphere of subtle refinement.

Vaggie led you through the upper landing, the ambience changing as you ascended. A faint scent of aged wood lingered, intermingled with the distant wails of Hell's tormented souls. It was a disturbing reminder of the realm you found yourself in.

"Your room is just down there," she said, her tone easing into a more casual cadence as she gestured ahead. The subtle tension of the encounter with Alastor seemed to dissipate with each step. "Sorry about that weird thing with Alastor. He's... unique. But don't worry, you're in good hands now."

The hallway unfolded as a corridor of opulence, with ambient lighting casting a vermillion gleam upon the dark, polished wood of the ornate doors that lined either side. Vaggie halted before a particularly imposing door, turning to you with a small, apologetic smile. "This is it. Your new home, at least for the time being." The door's intricate carvings and richly hued finish hinted at the luxury within, offering a glimpse into the mysterious haven that awaited you.

Entering the room, you were met with a surprisingly cozy atmosphere. The large bed dominated the space, adorned in rich crimson and gold bedding. Four beams stood proudly on each corner, supporting a black canopy that added an air of elegance. With their shears drawn, the two giant windows along the wall hinted at consideration for your well-being, shielding you from whatever horrors lurked below. Despite the obscured view, the city's lights cast a warm and inviting glow into the room.

A large, regal dresser stood proudly between the windows, a vast mirror attached on top reflecting the refined atmosphere of the room. Against the opposite wall, an armoire added a touch of vintage charm, and in the corner, a matching vanity whispered of bygone elegance. A door beckoned on the opposite end of the room, leading to your private en-suite bathroom.

Vaggie, her posture casual yet observant, leaned against the wall, her eyes following your every move. "It's not exactly the Ritz, but it's got its own flair."

You turned to face her, the weight of the day's events still etched on your features. "Flair might be an understatement, Vaggie. This place is..." You searched for the right word as you regarded the room. "Impressive."

She chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the quiet space. "Hell has a way of blending horror with splendor, doesn't it? Anyway, make yourself at home." Stepping back to survey the space again, you marveled at how it had met your needs and exceeded them.

Captivated by the allure of your new living space, you nearly missed Charlie's spirited entrance. Bursting through the doorway, her radiant expression illuminated the room like a burst of sunlight, and she greeted you with unbridled enthusiasm. "Welcome!" she exclaimed, extending her arms to accentuate her elation. "I hope that this space will suffice. If you need any other accommodations, I'm sure our gracious Facility Manager will happily assist!"

A derisive snort from Vaggie redirected your attention, her skepticism evident as she shot Charlie a sidelong glance. "Yeah, our 'gracious' Facility Manager has a knack for overstepping boundaries and could learn a thing or two about minding his own damn business. You're better off coming to me or Charlie for anything you need."

Charlie, undeterred by Vaggie's cynicism, chimed in with an eager smile. "Oh, we'd be thrilled to help with whatever you need!" Her eyes sparkled with genuine sincerity as she moved closer to Vaggie, intertwining their fingers as if grounding herself in their shared strength. As she took Vaggie's hand in hers, Charlie's gaze lingered with adoration. "Vaggie has done so much to help get this place up and running. She's not just my right hand; she's my better half."

Vaggie smiled sheepishly, trying to conceal her blush. Charlie planted a delicate kiss on Vaggie's cheek before turning her attention back to you, adopting a more serious tone. "Listen, I know this must all be pretty terrifying, and you must be so scared, but we've got you, I promise."

"Try to keep a low profile," Vaggie encouraged, placing a hand on her hip as she stood confidently. "Keep to yourself, avoid any potentially dangerous situations, and most importantly, stay away from the Shitlord. If you can do that, you should be fine until we can figure out how to get you home."

You blinked, puzzled by the peculiar term. "I'm sorry, the 'Shitlord'?"

"Alastor," she grumbled, ignoring Charlie's subtle scowl. "Our not-so-friendly neighborhood Radio Demon."

"Why should I avoid him?" you inquired, your interest piqued, especially after your earlier encounter. "If he's here helping to redeem sinners, he can't be that bad, right?"

The conflicting responses from Charlie and Vaggie painted a vivid picture of the polarizing figure that was Alastor. Charlie's eyes lit up with loyalty, defending the demon's actions, while Vaggie's glare spoke volumes about her mistrust.

"He's an ass," Vaggie stated bluntly, not mincing her words. It was clear she had little patience for the potentially problematic Radio Demon.

"He's not!" Charlie interjected, her tone almost pleading. "He… has a certain reputation, is all. I can't just assume that every demon that walks through our doors has bad intentions. We've got to give him a chance. He's been nothing but helpful since he's arrived."

Quirking your brow, you glanced back and forth between them as Vaggie rolled her eyes. "Charlie is endearingly optimistic."

As you observed the dynamic between Charlie and Vaggie, you noticed the subtle interplay of emotions – Charlie's infectious optimism and Vaggie's more cautious demeanor. The room's atmosphere shifted, transitioning from the initial excitement to a more serious undertone. The warmth of the welcome clashed with the ominous warning about the unpredictable Radio Demon.

Vaggie's gaze hardened as she met your eyes, a stern expression on her face. "Seriously, it's for your own safety. Alastor might come off as charming, but there's a reason other demons keep their distance. He's one of Hell's most feared Overlords. He's unpredictable, and you never know what he's up to. Just steer clear of him, okay?"

Charlie tried to diffuse the tension with a comforting smile. "We're just looking out for you. The Hotel can be hectic, and we want you to feel at home." Her words carried a gentle reassurance, attempting to balance Vaggie's wariness and her own hopefulness.

Vaggie sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "Just trust me on this one. He isn't just a happy face; he's a creep we've reluctantly allowed to help us. And the last thing we need is an innocent, unsuspecting soul falling under his influence."

A momentary flicker of doubt passed over Charlie's expressive eyes, but she swiftly regained her composure. "Alright, let's not dwell on this too much tonight. You must be exhausted," she said, her concern palpable. "We'll talk more tomorrow. If you need anything else, Vaggie and I are just down the hall, last door on the left."

"Got it," you affirmed, inclining your head in gratitude.

"Oh! And don't be alarmed if you cross paths with some of the other hotel staff," Charlie resumed, her enthusiasm returning. "Niffty is our diligent housekeeper, and Husk is our skilled bartender."

"At the moment, we only have two other guests," Vaggie chimed in, her tone more pragmatic. "Sir Pentious is usually occupied with his little minions and shouldn't be too much of a nuisance. Angel Dust is another story. If he bothers you, just ignore him. Or strangle him. Either one works."

"Will do," you chuckled, her attempt at humor injecting a welcome lightness into the atmosphere. "Thank you so much. I don't know what else to say. I'd probably be dead by now if you hadn't found me. It means a lot that you'd go through so much trouble for someone you don't know."

"Happy to help," Charlie replied, her sympathetic smile providing tender reassurance. "Get some rest!"

With those words, the two exited the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Eager for a distraction, you sauntered to the windows, drawing back the curtain and peering through the grimy glass.

Hell unfolded its macabre grandeur before your eyes. The twisted, decrepit structures that lined the streets challenged the laws of architecture. Each building, crooked and battered, exuded an eerie magnetism that hinted at the horrors within. The air was tinged with a paranormal quality, a discordant symphony of colors and shadows playing on the blood-splattered streets.

As you contemplated the surreal spectacle, a question involuntarily danced through your mind—what form would encapsulate your essence in this infernal realm? Would you morph into a whimsical creature, an embodiment of the anarchy that defined Hell, or perhaps manifest as an object reflecting the remnants of your earthly existence? The sheer absurdity of the thought evoked a quiet laughter that bubbled up from deep within, a coping mechanism against the overwhelming horror surrounding you.

"Remarkable, isn't it?"

The unexpected voice, a sinister melody that sliced through the eerie silence, prompted an involuntary yelp. You spun around with a start, almost stumbling over yourself, only to find Alastor standing in your bedroom doorway. The unnerving permanence of his smile rattled you while his eyes, gleaming with an otherworldly intelligence, seemed to leer at you.

"Jesus Christ!" you choked out, a hand instinctively clutching your chest to steady the frantic beat of your heart.

"Hmm… not quite," Alastor replied, his grin deepening, causing his eyes to crease with malevolent cheerfulness. "Forgive me, miss. A gentleman should refrain from intruding upon a lady's private domain. However, our earlier conversation was abruptly cut short, and I am not one to leave matters unresolved," he continued, twirling his staff with a casual flourish. "I would be remiss if I did not take advantage of this rare opportunity. Would you grant me the pleasure of your company, perhaps for a brisk stroll?"

Your eyes narrowed, wrestling with the uncertainty of his intentions. On one hand, curiosity was a shared sentiment; however, Vaggie had explicitly warned against spending any time with Alastor. Additionally, your suspicion that Alastor's interest in you concealed darker motives had only intensified since your previous encounter.

Observing your hesitation, Alastor's low, rumbling chuckle reverberated through the air like an ominous prelude, the static overlay even more prevalent than before. He casually leaned against the doorframe, his dark silhouette swallowing the feeble light in the room.

"No need to be so guarded, sweetheart," Alastor drawled, his voice an unnatural blend of charisma and menace. "I'm merely captivated by the anomaly of a living soul gracing Hell's grounds. You see, it's not every day we welcome a newcomer like yourself." Despite his attempt at reassurance, the room felt suffocating, as if his presence tainted the entire space. "You couldn't have arrived at a more intriguing time," Alastor continued, his eyes glinting with a vicious spark. "It seems fate has a sense of humor, placing a delicate creature like you amidst the chaos of Hell–and so soon after an extermination!"

Your eyebrows furrowed, skepticism etching lines on your face as you shot him a look that bordered on irritation. "Am I supposed to know what an 'extermination' is?"

"Sweet girl, an extermination is a grand spectacle of Hellish proportions! It's a symphony of destruction orchestrated to cleanse and reset the infernal balance," Alastor explained, his words dripping with macabre enthusiasm. The way he spoke made it sound like he reveled in the mayhem. "And you, my unsuspecting guest, have stepped directly into the aftermath."

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest, a mix of defiance and fear lacing your words. "Is this your idea of a sick joke?"

Alastor leaned back, a wicked grin still playing on his lips as if savoring the fear dancing in your eyes. "Who's joking?" he jested, his voice resonating with a chilling levity.

You eyed him warily, the manic in his eyes intensifying. "So, what's your role in all of this? Are you some kind of demonic tour guide or a sadistic host?"

He hummed softly as he mused. "Oh, you could say I wear many hats. But most importantly, for the time being, I'm here to make your stay in Hell as... entertaining as possible."

His words dripped with a malicious promise, each syllable carrying the weight of an unspoken threat. As he spoke, the air around you seemed to thicken with an unsettling energy, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were just beginning to scratch the surface of the twisted game that Alastor had set before you.

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

Chapter End Notes: Okay, I'm seeking honest opinions here... is my writing TOO complex? I feel like I'm using a lot of words that aren't used in everyday conversation, and I worry about any unsuspecting readers whose first language isn't English. It concerns me that they might struggle with comprehension and have it take away from their experience. I don't want to stress anyone out. Does that make sense? I'm an overthinker, so any feedback is appreciated!

#alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazin hotel imaginary #fanfiction #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction

[ninjaturtlemaniac]

Sugar Gals - Where are they now?

Sonnet - Voiced by Kerry Washington. Sonnet grew up to be an art connoisseur. She introduced 'Pop Art' to the other tribes. The design on her pants is supposed to be based on Andy Warhol's Marilyn Monroe, but like a Troll version of it.

Scout - Voiced by Stephanie Beatriz. Did a complete 180 from her tomboyish band persona and is now a feminine full time stay at home mom. She has a side hustle of selling stickers and polymer clay jewellery.

Summer - Voiced by Ester Dean (Yes she already voiced Legsly but we were robbed when they did not utilise the wonderful voice that were provided!) Summer continued to be an entertainer. Think, Hannah Montana meets Jojo Siwa meets Emma from the Wiggles. Summer's hair is still pink, the purple hair is a wig.

Sable - Voiced by Emmy Rossum. Sable became an elegant actress. Stars in the Troll equivalent of Broadway Plays. She actually lost a leg during the escape from the Troll Tree. It was caused by a Bergen with one of those shovels.

Sage - Voiced by Amanda Seyfreid. Sage is a Karen. Always thinks Trolls from the other Tribes are gonna steal her bag. She is head of the Pod Owners Association and complains to managers about stuff. (Look, I can't make every OC likeable okay :D )

The downfall of Sugar Gals was ultimately because of some getting more spotlight and attention than the others. Arguments occurred and then the Troll Tree Escape happened. After that they just sorta...didn't perform anymore. They made their peace with each other since then.

With the reunion of Brozone, there have been rumours of other older bands reuniting as well. We'll just have to wait and see. <3

A continuation of that random post I did a while ago. I picked voice actresses that seem to be only seen for one of their roles. Emmy Rossum for example, is only ever seen as Fiona from Shameless when she is a very talented opera singer.

Probs noone cares but this was a lot of fun trying to continue the random story of these official/unofficial characters.

#trolls #trolls band together #character design #dreamworks trolls #trolls movie #trolls brozone #trolls sugar gals #spice girls #brozone

[dolly-starling]

Furries are...

[some rando has a nematode persona]

furry: "ew why would you have such an obscure species"

[nematodes are literally the most common multi-cell organisms on the planet]

furry: "check out my red panda"

non-furry: "what's a red panda?"

furry: "You uncultured swine. you know nothing about animals"

[red panda are an extremely rare species that's local to only a specific part of the planet and the only reason furries know about it is because a lot of furries wanted to have a fox but didn't want to fall into the typical fox category so they chose a herbivorous weasel because it kinda looks like a fox a bit. furries of course didn't do that with any other weasel thing only the red panda because everyone chose the red panda as an alternative and people couldn't be bothered to diversify beyond that despite the fact that the mustelid family has dozens of other options including to name a few the olingo, the ermine, the sable and the marten all of which would be perfect analogues because furries don't actually want to be different they just want to look like they're different to an outsider until 3 dozen red panda all turn up at a convention and non-furries just start calling red pandas a furry thing shake my head]

#furry fandom #shake my head #red panda

[jadegretz]

Whispers in the Dark: Black Cat's Mysterious Ways by Jade Gretz

The city buzzed beneath the neon haze, its pulse mirroring the thrumming tension in Felicia Hardy's chest. Tonight's heist wasn't about jewels or riches. It was about proving a point, a risky dance on the tightrope of love and vengeance. Her target: the penthouse vault of Don Vicenzo, the man who'd framed her father and sent him to rot in Ryker's Island.

Her emerald eyes, sharp as emeralds under the moonlit sky, scanned the building's security grid. A smirk played on her lips, the thrill of the game as intoxicating as her perfume. But beneath the cool confidence, a knot of anxiety twisted in her gut. Her heart, usually a carefree acrobat, danced to a different rhythm these days.

Peter Parker, the charming photographer and vigilante known as Spider-Man, had tangled with her web more than once. Their chemistry crackled, a tempestuous mix of attraction and rivalry. He saw her as a criminal, yet, a small voice whispered, he also saw something else.

Tonight, that voice gnawed at her. What if Peter arrived? Would he try to stop her, capture her, or… worse, see past the black cat persona and glimpse the vulnerable woman yearning for justice?

As she slipped through the penthouse window, a soft sigh escaped her lips. Silence greeted her, thick and heavy. Don Vicenzo was known for his paranoia, even boasting an advanced AI security system. Yet, the vault door stood ajar, its sophisticated lock bypassed. A shiver of unease ran down her spine. Was this a trap?

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, eyes cold as moonlight on steel. It was Silver Sable, a mercenary as skilled as she was ruthless. Their rivalry ran deep, fueled by past clashes and whispered rumors of shared affections.

"This wasn't your invitation, cat," Silver Sable's voice was a purr laced with venom. "Don Vicenzo is mine."

Black Cat chuckled, a sound like wind chimes in a storm. "Oh, Silver, darling, this isn't about Vicenzo," she said, her claws extending with a soft click. "It's about settling an old score."

The ensuing fight was a blur of acrobatics and flashing knives. …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

#ai #aiart #digitalart #jadegretz #fantasyart #fanart #beautifulgirl #aiartwork #aiartcommunity #blackcat #feliciahardy #spiderman #superhero #comics #comicart #fantasy #thief

[nightbringer24]

Two things I think I’d like to do for my fantasy novel, and both would be ways to help the reader:

1) Give a glossary of terms for certain Medieval terms or words that aren’t majorly common knowledge, since nothing turns off a reader more than having to put down a book and go and look up what something is (Looking at G.R.R. Martin with this “cloak of sable ermine” on the very first page of A Song of Ice and Fire).

and 2) Either at the beginning of the book or maybe chapter, give a list of dramatis personae and their heraldry. This one might be a little spoilery but it’d help with envisioning what certain characters look like.

#personal

[jartitameteneis]

¿Si una persona promedio viva hoy fuera trasladada 3000 años hacia atrás en el tiempo, dado los conocimientos generales que tenemos hoy, sería considerada un genio/a para esa epoca? Una persona promedio de la actualidad es prácticamente analfabeta y no sobreviviría ni dos días en el mundo de hace 3000 años. Además supondría un peligro inmunológico para el resto de los habitantes de la época.

Una persona de la actualidad no sería considerada ningún "genio". Si, bueno, sabe que las lavadoras existen, que hay unos botones para la ropa blanca, que hay unos chips ahí dentro, pero no podría construir una lavadora. Su teléfono móvil sería un objeto de culto, quizás un objeto divino que produce musiquetas, pero sin redes 5G sólo serviría para usarlo de linterna por unos días, porque no podría recargarlo. La persona promedio actual sabe que el autobús para en cierto sitio, pero no podría construir un autobús. Ni siquiera la marquesina del autobús.

Una persona promedio de la actualidad (PPA) trasladada a Sumeria tendría que aprenderlo todo desde 0. Desde el idioma, la escritura, las relaciones sociales y comerciales y los trabajos habituales en la ganadería, el campo, la fundición de metales, etc. Para ganarse la vida como pastor de cabras tendría que sudar la gota gorda. Quizás podría impresionar un poco con el uso de los números arábigos para hacer operaciones matemáticas, pero tendría que reaprender a hacerlas sin la calculadora del móvil. Si la PPA fuera ingeniero o arquitecto, quizás impresionaría un poco, pero no mucho porque en esa época ya había ingenieros y arquitectos notables. Sin grúas ni retroexcavadoras tendría muy poco que aportar. Un experto en marketing también tendría algún efecto a la hora de aplicar nuevas técnicas para desarrollar el comercio.

Una PPA sabe que la electricidad existe pero no tiene ni puta idea de como se genera ni tendría la más mínima opción de generarla. La electricidad es un elemento clave para los "genios" actuales, sin la cual todo su mundo se derrumba.

Lo más probable es que una PPA, si no muere de inmediato debido a su inutilidad, tuviera que vivir de la mendicidad o fuera atrapado por una tribu de beduinos que lo exhibirían en una jaula como si fuera un mono.

Sin los aditivos químicos y farmacológicos que consume habitualmente, la PPA enfermaría y moriría en poco tiempo.

De ir vestido así:

…cabrían dos opciones. La primera, que fuera considerado un Dios del Carnaval; la segunda, que lo encadenaran en un muro para que la gente le escupiera.

Y, cuidao, hablo de hace 3000 años en un entorno urbano reconocible para la PPA, donde aún tendría alguna opción de sobrevivir. Si la PPA cayera en algún lugar del norte de Europa, África o en América sólo se podría alimentar de bayas, y ni eso. Intentar cazar un bisonte, ni lo sueñes. Los tigres dientes de sable merodearían alrededor del "genio" actual porque su olor se percibiría desde leguas. Seguro que la PPA echaría de menos el supermercado de la esquina.

Hemos de tener muy claro que la tecnología, más que convertirnos en "genios", nos convierte en completos inútiles.

Decididamente, no habría futuro para una persona promedio actual en el mundo de hace 3000 años.

[riddled-fingers]

in case anyone was wondering what ive been up to lately

#my art #sable screams #persona sable #smiling friends #charlie dompler #“haha smiling friends silly show” SOMEONE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELP ME #anywayssssss #ive been drawing i promise its just. all. um... un-postable

[ghostshadow-k-r]

Well,it's pretty normal to having a favourite idol group.

But,what will happen if your father had become one of it????

As an inceptor's daughter,she didn't have much time to spend with him.Her mother had passed away two years ago,all because of that corrupted politician.Even she witnessed the whole hit-and-run scene right before her young eyes,the politician remained "Innocent" because his subordinate suicided.

After that,her relationship with her father totally ended.She was so disappointed that she could only place her rely on the Phantom Theives.

Let's just say,she was totally obsessed with them.She was happy everytime she saw their showcase,happy everytime when she participated Phansite's voting.In her eye,Phantom Theives could do nothing wrong.Even when they're being announced as murderer,she still supported them.

Not until she had becomed a Monarch and the Phantom Theives had come to save her?

#my drawings #mlp au #digital art #shin megami tensai persona #persona 5 #persona 5 strikers #hasegawa akane #madder stream #sable stream #pegasus

[commodoresigma]

[original drawing date: 2nd-13th Feb 2024]

A collection of various busts of characters from a comic i want to work on soon. This would be the first time I've drawn some of these characters and they could probably do with some proper designs, but I had fun nonetheless c:

This is actually part of another big project I'm working on where I draw similar things for some of my characters, i've got a few more but I'll probably post them when I've got more for those character sets.

Characters are:

Kristy Williams, an aspiring author and recently-graduated uni student. Kinda chill normally but is quick to anger and is almost superhumanly stubborn. Through the course of the comic, but shown in the opening, she gains a weird superpower called Soulblaze, which is this short-ranged high-impact explosive energy attack that resembles rapidly-spinning fire with occasional sparks of lightning and the power of which is tied to the user's mental state and determination.

Elenor, the Umbral Queen, a woman from around 1862 who fused herself with a shadowy eldritch abomination to stop herself dying from complications after childbirth, and has just kinda been goofing around, terrorising generally not good people, and fighting and/or running away from her descendents' various armed forces trying to capture her for study or revenge against killing a few of her immediate family (most by accident, though she did deliberately kill her husband). Actually kind of a kind-hearted person, albeit with a bit of a sadistic streak, as she was never cruel herself and the Umbral Queen is explicitly neutral and passive.

Evangeline, the Guardian, is a tall and kinda buff woman who works as a librarian or a bookstore worker idk which yet, and is secretly a low-rank creature of super-advanced dimension-travelling biokinetic former humans who self-style themselves after angels and call themselves the Celestians, and she was planted on the world to essentially protect humanity from incursions from hostile entities from other realities - entities like the Umbral Queen, for instance. Usually acts pretty friendly, if not a bit aloof, but can turn cold and deeply serious quickly.

Argent, the Portal Scientist. Researcher from an alternate reality who starts exploring Kristy's dimension to study the remarkably weak fabric between realities there. Insatiably curious, deeply intelligent, and quite compassionate. Loaded to the brim with advanced technology built around intra- and occasionally inter-dimensional portal technology.

Sable, the Kinetic Scientist. Argent's sister, less interested in studying the world and more in testing and experimenting with kinetic accelerator tech. Bit of a mad scientist, and definitely has chaotic gremlin energy.

Joanne Rockwell, a junior science-type (not sure what discipline yet), office intern, and recently-graduated uni student. Level-headed, a little high-strung, and cautious to a fault, but quite friendly and sociable otherwise. Kristy's girlfriend, has been with her since late high school and before she transitioned. Like Kristy, she's just a normal human, but also like Kristy there's definitely something weird going on with her...

Kyle Ashton, a mildly successful online sex worker, and Cassidy's slightly younger brother. Fairly promiscuous, but knows how to keep himself safe and is respectful of boundaries, and has a similar attitude to his sister, albeit more sarcastic. Probably has some martial arts training.

Cassidy Ashton, an amateur artist, gym junkie and semi-successful VTuber. Enjoys banter and good-natured ribbing, a little headstrong and prone to arrogance, but if she likes you even a little she'll be extremely friendly and doggedly loyal - her VTuber persona is much the same, albeit a little more exaggerated. Kristy's current best friend, met each other during the start of their third year of uni at the gym. A decent boxer, for someone only just starting it, spars with Kristy often. Also has a bit of a crush on Kristy.

#my art #commodoresigma #original character #original #oc #kristy williams #elenor the umbral queen #eva the guardian #argent #sable #joanne rockwell #kyle ashton #cassidy ashton

[feral-mouse]

Can we have more info on Sable and also how is Raspberry/Eugene doing, I miss him

So ngl, Sable isn’t the most developed because he was literally created just for the game jam. I will try my best though to give Sable info 😤💦

So for some basic info, he is 6’ tall and goes by he/they pronouns. Very tall and lanky. He’s got like some muscle on him, but he’s not exactly buff lol. Like, he could definitely still be beaten in a hand-to-hand fight. He relies way too heavily on his bat when fighting, so if you get rid of that, you’ve definitely got a higher chance of winning against him. His favorite foods are anything strawberry, banana, or peach related, and he absolutely loves pastelcore lol

He’s very outgoing and carefree, and a tad overconfident. He definitely acts dumber than he is (although, he does have his genuinely dumb moments psdjfsp). He does like playing into this sweet playful persona because he thinks its cute, and because he thinks it’ll get people to trust him more. He does also have a bit of a sadistic side to him that tends to pop out when he’s hunting people down. He also cares a lot about his appearance and does not want to dirty his outfit. Like, if he’s killing someone and he gets their blood on his clothes, that’s completely fine because that’s hot and cool to him. But if he trips and falls and gets hurt, then he’s like “noooo I got dirty, this is not going to fit my aesthetic at all 😭” spdjfsp

As for Eugene, he is doing alright. I feel bad because I haven’t been thinking about him all that much recently, but he’s just chilling for now. He is sending you a little wooden carving of a cow that he’s been working on as an apology for being away for so long

#hurrl #mouse speaks #icyahydfs #sable #eugene wagner #my oc #i chase you and hunt you down for sport

[walkingshcdow]

@covrroucer | Blakeney & Chauvelin

Sir Percy Blakeney always preferred a bit of sparkle to his outfit, a pop of color, what, or else a fashionable cut. However, as everyone well knew, Sir Percy was in the north country hunting with a few of his closest and most glittering companions, until the next ball. The Scarlet Pimpernel, for as colorful as his name was, did not mind a suit of sable if it benefitted him this moonless night in Paris. Trouble was, of course, that horrid, little man, Chauvelin, would skulk about in his darkest blacks about this time of night, too. The Pimpernel already had everything he wanted from this trip. A family of aristos were well on their way to Calais and then, by way of the Daydream, to England. He’d read, committed to memory, and burned the map to the next set of prison cells. Now, he was not Sir Percy Blakeny nor was he The Scarlet Pimpernel. He was a man who wished to go unnoticed in the streets and then, once he arrived, in a local inn where he hoped to rest before tomorrow’s rendezvous.

However, for all the luck God could grant him as The Scarlet Pimpernel, He must have had a sense of humor for M. Chauvelin sat inside this very inn’s tavern. He did not have the smug look of a cat with a canary – in fact, he neither seemed to be waiting for or have noticed Percy at all. He instead had his little snuffbox out upon the table and the lack of cutlery and china indicated that if he waited for anything at all, it was supper. Percy wasted no time in finding the staff.

“I say, do you see that fellow over there?” he said to the woman who ran the establishment. “That’s Monsieur Chaumbertin of the Committee of Public Safety – a dear old friend of my wife’s. I pray you-“ Here he paused to pay her enough for not the cost of one meal, but two, with change left over for wine and obedience “-send his meal to him with compliments from Sir and Lady Blakeney and tell him a friend will be joining him soon. Whatever the house specialty is, I’ll have for myself, madame, but first might you direct me to whomever is making room arrangements?”

By the time the plates were set upon the table, Percy had changed into his own, creamy satins and an elaborate cravat. He had come in unnoticed, but he’d be demmed if he didn’t catch Chauvelin’s eye at least once. Not a scrap of evidence proved Sir Percy the Scarlet Pimpernel and the new, lacy handkerchief he carried, embroidered with his and Marguerite’s linking initials could only attest that his real business in France had been fashion and fashion alone.

“Chaumbetin!” he drawled lazily, sliding from personhood to persona as easily as breathing. Then, he slid into the chair opposite his rival and plucked up his knife at fork at his plate. “Odd’s fish, I do hope I haven’t kept you waiting long! It’s only every so often I have the privilege of shopping in your fine city. Really, it is a fine city if one looks past the blood and down to the bones of it! Marguerite will be sorry to know she missed seeing you here, though, but I certainly can’t take the wife shopping with me for her own presents, now, can I? I’d ask about your holiday shopping, but it seems your whole country has gone out and invented a new calendar! Such clever heads, the French… But enough of all that, how are you?”

The Scarlet Pimpernel could abide silence for his cause. Sir Percy, however, did not willfully endure silence or (worse) dull conversation. He hoped he left Chauvelin just dazed enough to be foxed and just foxed enough to say something that could begin a little tete-a-tete. (Such a delicious little phrase, and how very, very French!) As much as he loathed the man’s politics and as much as he despised him for all Chauvelin had forced poor Marguerite to endure, the animosity between them was complicated very much by the fact that Percy delighted in games with Chauvelin and further still complicated by the fact that, despite it all, Marguerite did not hate Chauvelin as much as anyone less than a saint would. She had abiding memories of a deep friendship and shared ideals that (despite what others might say) Percy also sympathized with. It was a tangled mess of a web. And, besides, it was very nearly Christmas. Peace on earth, good will to men, and all that had to mean something, even in France, perhaps most especially in France, where the values of the day were liberty, equality, and fraternity. La, what a silly world, where a country that purported such beliefs would make once spirited men, like Chauvelin dour, and do away with the one season Christendom actually bothered to agree with its principles!

#ch: percy blakeney #thread: percy blakeney & chauvelin | covrroucer #.001 | canon #((apologies for how rusty I am!)) #((I've been writing a TSP inspired D&D character for a while and I had to keep his voice out of it lol))

[queenofnightdreamland]

Blue & Grey. Capítulo 44

Warnings/Advertencias: canon divergence, violencia típica del canon, mención a muertes, heridas, deshidratación, depresión, llanto, ansiedad, enojo...

Pareja: Obi-Wan Kenobi x jedi! fem!reader

Word count: 2.5 K

Simbología: ⎯ ⁘✦⁘⎯ (espacio temporal largo), ⎯ ✦ ⎯ (espacio temporal corto), "abcd..." (visión de la fuerza), "abcd..." (pensamientos), “abcd…” (pensamientos enviados a través de la fuerza), <<abcd…>> (mensajes datapad), °abcd...° (recuerdos).

Nota del Autor: ¡No los he olvidado, lo prometo! Mi inspiración ha encontrado un punto de quiebre donde tengo tantas ideas que no me decido por una de ellas para continuar con el fic. De momento les dejo este pequeño regalo de año nuevo, espero que se encuentren muy bien y les deseo excelentes días en sus vidas.

Anterior / Siguiente

Masterlist Blue & Grey

◞────────⊰·•·⊱────────◟

Luego de haberse retirado, se mantuvieron en movimiento por varios minutos. Encontraron unas salientes de rocas donde decidieron detener su retirada táctica para ocultarse tras ellas, después de haber colocado minas con sensores que detonarían poco a poco a lo largo del lugar. Aunque funcionaran presentían que continuarían subiendo demasiados enemigos para dos personas, y a pesar de que uno de ellos fuese un Jedi, el luchar sería un riesgo; porque dicho jedi estaba cansado y definitivamente aguantaría menos en el campo de batalla. Después de todo, no era ningún droide. Por otro lado, ambos comenzaban a sentir la falta de agua afectarlos. Si seguían así morirían pronto, y no por los droides, sino por deshidratación.

Un sonido que resonó fue lo que devolvió al presente y los sacó de sus respectivos pensamientos. Al voltear la mirada observaron a la distancia la columna de humo alzarse. Esa era la señal, el ejército droide estaba cerca, las minas comenzaron a detonarse con mayor rapidez por lo que ambos tomaron el último trago de agua que tenían en sus reservas y salieron lo más listos que podían para enfrentarse a sus muertes inminentes en la batalla.

No habría vuelta atrás, esta vez. Sabían sin necesidad de hacer cálculos para tener las estadísticas, que las probabilidades de salir victoriosos estaban cerca del cero.

-Fue un honor haber luchado a su lado estos años, General – escuchas a Xyón decir y casi dejas escapar una lágrima.

-El honor fue mío, Xyón… lamento que vaya a morir así.

-Será una muerte que quedará escrita en los archivos, General. Deberíamos estar orgullosos.

-Bueno, que sea una batalla que recuerden todos entonces… ¿Juntos? – preguntas antes de voltearte.

-Hasta el fin, General.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ✦ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Tu sable cortaba cuando podía, pero solo eras capaz de bloquear los disparos del ejército enemigo. Eran demasiados y después de casi quince minutos luchando estabas comenzando a cansarte. En algún punto un disparo logró dar en el blanco y Xyón cayó al suelo de espaldas. Cambiaste rápidamente de posición con intención de cubrirlo con tu cuerpo sin dejar de intentar bloquear los disparos hasta que llegara el momento en que no podrías más.

Estabas agotada, demasiado cansada y la sed era insoportable, la saliva se sentía espesa en tu boca y eso sólo dejaba en claro lo mal que estabas. Querías llorar, sentías el picor en tus ojos, pero casi no estabas produciendo lágrimas, definitivamente estabas muriendo por deshidratación.

Un disparo conectó con tu hombro izquierdo y el sable resbaló de tus manos. Ahora tenías certeza de que morirías y a los pocos segundos te seguiría Xyón, una vez tu función de escudo se viese perjudicada.

Aunque de tus ojos no salían lágrimas, lloraste. Lloraste por terminar abandonando a Viorica y a tus hermanos, por no haber dejado un heredero claro; aunque le habías dicho a Viorica que en tu ausencia buscara un maestro y tomara su lugar, le dejaste tu comunicador con indicaciones de buscar a Arawn, Izan o Faolan para que continuaran su entrenamiento y la guiaran lo mejor posible hacia un futuro brillante. Pensaste en Anakin y Padmé, como los ibas a dejar, en lo que tu muerte posiblemente desencadenaría y la posibilidad de que Anakin cayera al lado oscuro antes de lo que tus visiones habían señalado.

Una pésima decisión; pero no tenían opciones. Habías tomado tus decisiones y pagarías las consecuencias, tal vez incluso, lo llegase a pagar toda la galaxia.

En medio de tus intentos de bloquear los disparos con un campo de energía generado por Fuerza pura, observaste una actitud extraña en los enemigos a lo lejos. Intentaste enfocar sin perder el control del sable en tus manos, pero estabas realmente agotada y tenías que usar toda tu fuerza de voluntad para no permitir que otro disparo de los bláster te impactara en un lugar de mayor importancia vital.

Luego de varios minutos lograste apreciar varios disparos de color celeste, además de un sable de hoja de un color azul que te hizo tambalear y como consecuencia dejar de sujetar el sable que cayó al suelo.

Los disparos no te golpeaban, todavía el pequeño escudo te protegía, en especial porque los droides habían encontrado una mejor distracción que un simple jedi con dificultades de defenderse por cuenta propia.

Al intentar dar un paso te volviste a tambalear un poco, el escudo se movió contigo, por suerte todavía evitaba que los disparos perdidos te lastimaran. Realmente querías creer que era él, pero el recuerdo de su cuerpo completamente laxo y sin reacción ante tus intentos de sanarlo estaban grabados a fuego vivo en tu mente.

No había posibilidades de que estuviese vivo, Obi-Wan Kenobi definitivamente los había dejado. Entonces ¿por qué te sentías así de tranquila? A lo mejor, en medio de tu deshidratación ya habías comenzado a alucinar.

Un espacio se abrió en el centro de la masa de droides dejando ver unos cascos con franjas naranjas y a un humano que era tremendamente similar a Obi-Wan en el medio, tenía su sable activado y avanzaba sin detenerse ni un segundo.

Sus movimientos eran fluidos, con un claro propósito y no dudaba de su siguiente paso. Su expresión era una obra de arte, estaba cargado de enojo y al mismo tiempo preocupación, pero se veía muy concentrado en la batalla.

-Obi… - susurraste con la voz quebrada y diste un par de pasos completamente temblorosos, cargados de nerviosismo e inseguridad. Ahora, con mayor razón temías que fuese la deshidratación la que te estuviese haciendo ver cosas que no eran reales.

El hombre salió del centro de enemigos y sin dudarlo apagó su sable al mismo tiempo que corría hacia ti. Se detuvo a escasos centímetros de chocar contigo y no dudó en envolverte entre sus brazos al mismo tiempo que comenzabas a llorar, dejando escapar lágrimas que pensaste no podrían salir.

-Obi… Creo que voy a saltarme las gracias – susurras y él acarició tu rostro apartando mechones de cabello del camino, estabas despeinada y cubierta de polvo y sangre seca de algunos cortes viejos.

-Lamento llegar tan tarde – respondió a lo que negaste para ocultar tu rostro en su pecho al mismo tiempo que él no dejaba de acariciar tu cabello.

Lo abrazaste con fuerza, como si tu vida dependiese de eso.

-Te extrañé, te extrañé- comenzaste a repetir como si se tratara de una letanía y su expresión fue como si le hubiesen dado vuelta a su mundo. Te apartó un poco de su pecho y te acarició el rostro apartando el cabello buscando mirarte a los ojos.

Intentaste buscar su rostro y aunque estabas tan aliviada de verlo con vida y saber que Xyón había tenido razón, su loca y pequeña esperanza se había vuelto realidad. Entonces, recordaste a tu compañero caído y tu mirada se cargó de preocupación – Xyón está herido, y mi sable…

-General – escuchaste a Cody quien le entregó algo a Obi-Wan que luego que sentiste hacer peso en tu cintura.

-Regresemos a la nave – lo escuchaste susurrarte a lo que asentiste antes de intentar dar un paso y que todo se volviera negro.

Obi-Wan observó cómo caíste, reaccionó justo a tiempo para atraparte y evitar que te golpearas contra el suelo – Y/N – llamó preocupado y al ver que no reaccionabas no tardó en cargarte entre sus brazos para comenzar a moverse hacia el trasbordador que acababa de aterrizar en la zona trasera del campo de batalla.

-Cody, te dejo a cargo de la situación aquí – ordenó Obi-Wan sin apartar la mirada de tu cuerpo.

Al acercarse al trasbordador observó a Waxer acomodando la capsula médica con Xyón en el interior.

De verdad tenía que haber recibido un disparo en un lugar muy peligroso.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ✦ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

El viaje hacia la nave fue relativamente rápido, pero no lo suficiente para aplacar su ansiedad. Tus labios se notaban claramente agrietados y le preocupaba el posible estado de deshidratación en que podrías encontrarte.

Cuando el trasbordador aterrizó y las puertas se abrieron no tardó en salir del mismo. Lo primero que se encontró fue a Viorica acercarse de forma apresurada.

-Maestro Kenobi, gracias, de verdad, muchas gracias.

-No me agradezcas todavía, primero debemos llevarla al ala médica.

Ella caminó al lado de ambos hasta que entraron al ala médica y los clones la sacaron de allí junto a Kenobi.

Ahora venía la peor parte, esperar.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⁘ ✦ ⁘ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

El calor que te envolvía era agradable, hace mucho no sentías tanta comodidad y tampoco te sentías tan descansada. Por lo que decidiste que podías tomarte más tiempo y descansar mejor, no haría daño una vez.

Inspiraste profundamente, pero la sola acción te trajo un dolor bastante fuerte en la zona de tu pecho a lo que sólo fuiste capaz de quejarte sonoramente antes de abrir los ojos.

Volteaste la mirada y un rostro con ligero rastro de barba te devolvió la mirada. No pudiste evitar sonreír en medio de todo el cansancio y dolor, y posiblemente un poco de medicamento también. Cambiaste de posición ligeramente, para poder enfocar un poco, en ese momento sentiste la caricia sobre tu cabello y sonreíste adormilada.

-Deberías dormir un poco más, debes estar agotada.

-Uhmm… me pides que duerma cuando confirmo que estas con vida – reclamaste en un susurro

-Lo siento, pensé que el consejo te había notificado… yo… quise creer que te habían notificado.

- ¿Cuándo cambiaste con un cuerpo falso? Te dispararon frente a mí – dijiste cerrando los ojos.

-No lo cambié, era yo – entonces abriste los ojos y lo miraste sorprendida -. ¿Qué sucede?

- ¿Por qué no reaccionaste? Intenté sanarte.

-No estaba herido, pero si escuché todo. No tienes idea lo mucho que lo lamento, al inicio creí que estabas actuando, pero cuando llegaste a despedirte antes de la ceremonia… Lo lamento, estrella, lamento todo lo que sucedió.

-Lo sé, siento tu sinceridad, pero… creo que podemos hablar después ¿no crees? – susurraste a punto de quedarte dormida y él volvió a acariciarte el cabello.

Volviste a quedarte dormida, realmente estabas agotada y deshidratada.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⁘ ✦ ⁘ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Cuando abriste los ojos lo primero que hiciste fue voltear la mirada, estabas esperando encontrar a Obi-Wan a tu lado. Todavía tenías miedo de que fuese mentira, una ilusión muy cruel que habías generado por la deshidratación. Pero a tu lado se encontraba Bead, quien te observó atento antes de retirar la vía intravenosa de tu mano.

-General, ya está hidratada, le retiré la vía y luego podrá darse un baño.

-Gracias, ¿el General Kenobi?

-Está atendiendo unos asuntos importantes en el planeta, debemos admitir que, aunque estaban solos allá abajo lograron menguar tanto sus fuerzas que el General logró dar un golpe de gracia y completaron la misión de manera satisfactoria.

Esa confesión te hizo quedarte helada en tu lugar. Sabías que habían resistido, pero no como para disminuir en tantos números las tropas separatistas.

- ¿De verdad fuimos nosotros, Bead?

-Sí, General. No le mentiría nunca.

-Pero…

-Detestamos cada segundo de espera, fue horrible… Pero cuando el General regresó varios de nosotros pudimos evadir sus órdenes, dado que el general tenía mayor rango que Viorica… Varios bajamos a ayudar también.

-Gracias…

-General… ¿Permiso para hablar libremente?

-Siempre, Bead.

-Eso que hizo, general, espero nunca lo haga de nuevo. La próxima vez, moriremos todos juntos si es necesario – escuchas a Bead y sonreíste conmovida.

-Espero que no exista una “próxima vez”, Bead – respondes bastante segura de que no permitirías que pasara de nuevo.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ✦ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

No esperabas encontrar a nadie en tu habitación, pero en el momento en que la puerta se cerró a tus espaldas sentiste cómo dos brazos te rodearon para abrazarte con toda la fuerza que fue capaz de reunir ese cuerpecito delgado que le pertenecía solamente a una persona.

Viorica.

A pesar de la sensación de felicidad que te provocó la reacción de tu padawan, no lograste contener el quejido de dolor al sentir tus costillas quejarse por la fuerza que utilizaron cuando seguían sanando. Realmente respirar te costaba un poco, todavía.

-Lo lamento maestra, perdone…

-Está bien, no pasa nada Viorica.

-Me alegro de verla despierta maestra, bueno, con vida, en realidad. Pensé que sería la última vez que la vería y me sentí devastada.

Sonreíste con dulzura y le acariciaste el cabello – Viorica, quiero que recuerdes muy bien lo que te he enseñado. Puede que tengas un lazo muy fuerte conmigo, pero eso no significa que si llego a morir debas dejarte vencer por el dolor. Somos jedi, indiferentemente de la orden de la que hablemos, y si lo vemos desde mi orden entonces con más razón debes dejar ir.

-Pero…

Negaste – Somos uno con la Fuerza, gracias a ella estamos aquí y gracias a ella vamos a seguir en su flujo eterno. Nunca moriremos realmente y nunca estarás completamente sola; pero debes dejar el apego emocional, aunque sea difícil de aceptar. Está bien que llores, pero debes dejar ir todos esos sentimientos.

- ¿No han pensado que es muy difícil? Terminas formando lazos quieras o no y dejarlos ir es igual de difícil que formarlos.

Asentiste, realmente sí la entendías, más de lo que quisieras y ahora, tenías que poner un ejemplo que ya habías roto. Suspiraste y la abrazaste con fuerza antes de verla a los ojos – Creo que no soy la más indicada para sermonearte sobre este tema – admites y ella te observa atenta –. Por esa misma razón casi te quedas sin maestra, tomé una decisión apresurada basada en mis emociones y no pensé en los demás, en ti… Sí, es difícil dejar ir, pero se torna más difícil incluso cuando no estas preparado para esa perdida, como me sucedió con mi padre, con Obi-Wan… como iba a suceder contigo y conmigo; pero, si te das tiempo para pensar y sentir el dolor un poco, la muerte no es difícil de aceptar, como logré hacer con mi padre.

Viorica analizó lo que decías y te miró atenta. Si era objetiva, tenías razón, no habías reaccionado tan impulsivamente con la muerte de tu padre, sí, estuviste dolida y todavía lograba ver el dolor en tu marca, pero lo aceptaste. En cambio, con el Maestro Kenobi… todo había salido mal.

-Estamos destinados a morir, es parte de la vida misma. Está bien llorar, está bien amar, está bien ser feliz pero no debemos dejar que nuestras emociones nos dominen, ninguna de ellas. ¿Recuerdas lo que dije de los excesos?

Al volver a escuchar tu voz levantó la mirada y ladeó la cabeza al escuchar la pregunta – ¿Qué todos son malos?

-Exactamente, el exceso de sentimientos no es sano para nadie… mucho menos para un jedi. El riesgo de caer al lado oscuro es muy grande – admites ladeando la mirada al sentir una presencia cercana y Viorica lo notó antes de asentir.

-Entiendo, bueno, creo que ahora lo comprendo un poco mejor, teóricamente hablando.

-Ahora necesitas aplicar esa teoría. Prometo mejorar como maestra, disculpa mi clara falta. Sin embargo, me alegro mucho de poder seguir enseñándote, espero continues considerándome como una buena opción para enseñarte, padawan…

-No la cambiaría nunca, maestra. No creo que haya alguien mejor.

Sonreíste cargada de amor – El honor es ser tu maestra, Viorica. Eres un padawan excelente.

Te volvió a abrazar y devolviste el abrazo.

-Ahora, padawan, me gustaría darme una ducha… Podemos conversar sobre este tema mucho tiempo más, pero después de que me sienta yo misma de nuevo.

-Claro que sí maestra. Con permiso.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan x y/n #x reader #obi wan x reader #star wars prequels #star wars #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #anakin x padme #the clones wars #oc clone trooper #blue & grey fanfiction #grey jedi #padawan oc