HE WAS BROUGHT UP FROM HELL.
                        established 12/11/16. penned by luci.
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â - deteneoyet
[ â ] send me a url and iâll tell you the following; (NOT accepting)
my opinion on;
character in general: Coming from another (former) One-Eye player, Iâm pretty darn fond of your adaptation. Weâre not given much at all, but what weâve been given, youâve taken it and run with it. (And I love watching people play characters like him. Heâs a very minimal character, but that just means thereâs so much to build on.)how they play them: Wonderfully! I love that youâve put a neat twist on him. :>the mun: We do talk, and friend I do not mind waiting for your replies. Srsly, Iâd wait months to see your Onesy back on my dash.
do i;
follow them: Yep!rp with them: Yep!want to rp with them: Yep!ship their character with mine: As friends, maybe.
what is my;
overall opinion: Also an A+. I totally recommend this blog to anyone whoâs looking to RP opposite a One-Eye. \0/
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inadxquacy:
He looked awful. Scarred, which wasnât that surprising , but also bloodied and dirty all over as if heâd been a hound forced to crawl over hills and through bogs and received no proper care. Even the actual hounds that lived among them had been treated better than him. It all defied logic in her sense, why would they not care for a rather strong source of money and entertainment, something she wouldnât accept either. If you beat a dog enough they will attack eventually. No doubt the man had already caused trouble but after beaten down the only way was to fight his way upwards. In a long time she hadnât met someone appreciating water like he did.Â
He looked somewhat different than the highlanders, perhaps heâd been brought from afar, as something theyâd believe him as more of an uncivilised beast than a man, a savage. Sheâd heard that term by some men on her way here. Sheâd been dressed in wool and leather, carrying a few knifes and able to do things women shouldnât. Her father tried civilising her by dressing her in a dress, and teaching her manners. She had them already and she learned them from her mother, more of a civilised person than anyone here. Just in case she had her old small blade and a set of pants, in case the dress became too inconvenient.Â
A small smile was offered to the caged man until it was wiped of by a wince, one of the men whoâd taunted the man grabbing her by the hair, pulled up onto her feet, and cursing her with words such as bastard girl and outlander. Clearly her care for the caged one was looked badly upon by men sheâd ignored from the second sheâd met them, either envy for her attention or simple hate of the man. She gave his temple a good hit with a swing of the ladle causing him to let go of her hair. It got some stares but no one interfered as the chief had noticed as well and ordered both of them to stand down. What followed was a heated discussion slightly further away. Against all cells of her body she made a convincing argument theyâd have no chance of winning unless theyâd care for their beast, clean him and care for him. He was human and had necessities, otherwise the cold damp night could be the bringer of his death. Of course there was exaggerating involved on her part but to leave a half bare man outside for the day or night would have brought guilt to her mind.Â
The chief was convinced to give it a try but itâd take time to prepare different arrangements for him, so Laura returned to the man with a wool blanket she carefully wrapped around his torso as well as she could. Under her breath she curse in Norse, damming the men who did this. âDo you want more water?â Her head tilted gently as she looked at him, trying to determine what he could need. A bath for sure, the men would take him to nearby lake, some food, warmth. There was a hint of her that would gladly throw the one whoâd pulled her hair into a cage with the one-eyed, but sheâd never speak of it, itâd be cruel.
While he would have gladly torn the skull of the man clean off simply for being part of the party that kept him imprisoned, it did little to ease his ire when he watched him tear the woman from the cage, his expression stone as he listened to the insults flung upon her. He was hardly a compassionate being, and he never expected for it to be shown to him for that alone, but the one thing stopping him from reaching through the bars to silence the fool was the binding on his wrists. He never suffered fools, and this man was quickly rising in the ranks of people he intended to kill once he was free.Â
He allowed himself to relax, if only slightly, when they were corralled away by their chief, focusing on his prison as he closed his eye. The bars would be impossible to break, no matter how strong he made himself. And he knew they would never allow him to starve himself until he was thin enough to slip through. He wouldnât have the strength to so much as crawl to freedom. Escaping would entail a lot more planning than simply breaking free of this cage, if he hoped to succeed.Â
Though his attention was broken as he felt cloth encircling his body, shielding him from the bitter cold. He opened his eye to find the woman from before, surprised that she would be allowed him after what he had been witness to. Few clans allowed any but their strongest men and a slave or two near him, for fear that he would kill anyone who showed him the smallest bit of kindness.Â
He had no plans to kill this woman. Yet.Â
He recognised her curse, the tongue familiar yet it had been so long since heâd last heard it that it almost felt unreal. So that was what âoutlanderâ meant before. They were both outsiders within this harsh land. Her offer of water was ignored, and though he needed far more than just water to bring him back to his physical peak, he stared at her. His eye was old, far older than the man who owned it. It had seen death and despair, far more than any man should have to see. It knew sorrow, pain, deception. And now it looked upon the woman intensely, as if staring into the depths of her soul.Â
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noblcsse:
The sudden appearance of the rabbit- and itâs hunter- made him flinch. The only reason he couldnât shift in response was that he lacked the energy. His body wanted- desperately- to change form, but it couldnât do much more than sit there in the undergrowth and tremble. He hadnât been able to shift at all lately, that was why he was currently wrapped up in the clothes of a hunter. If he could, heâd be content to keep running on four legs. Maybe eventually his memories of being anything other than a fox would fade. Maybe heâd lose his sentience if he stayed shifted too long. He honestly welcomed that idea, as much as he wanted to see his family again.
But that idea was cut short by the snapping of the rabbitâs neck. Oh gods. Oh gods, what if the wild-eyed stranger was going to do that to him? Was it easy to tell that the blood was human? Was it easy to tell that he wasnât? His teeth had been growing sharper lately. The blue in his eyes- eye- was fading, the pupil and his vision overall beginning to warp. Maybe the stranger couldâ wait. Wait, he also had one good eye. The wound covering (maybe covering? he couldnât make it out, but maybe it was missing completely) the other looked old and gnarled, probably untreated when it had first happened. What kind of man wouldnât go to the doctor for a wound like that? What kind of man would hunt rabbits with his bare hands? They both had that in common, but still.
âŠMaybe he was hallucinating. But it all seemed too real. And he hadnât smelled those scents before. The man was real. Odd smelling, old smelling, but real. And that scared the fox even more. True, he could run, but how far could he get? He didnât have the energy to shift, it was doubtful he could run faster than a human in similar condition. And if he ran, heâd look more guilty. So he opened his hands to show that he wasnât armed and stayed exactly where he was. And then he confessed.
âP- please,â he stammered, voice ragged from months of misuse. âPlease donât hurt me. I didnât mean it. I- I was kept. By bad men. I donât know for how long. I know I shouldnât have, I thought I could handle being a monster, but I didnât know about this part of it.â
If there was one thing he knew better than most, it was being a monster. The violent acts heâd committed in his lifetime, the lives heâd taken without a single hint of remorse, the satisfaction heâd felt with each drop of blood that soaked into his very being, those were the workings of a feral beast. Long ago, he had come to terms with that unshakable truth, and resigned himself to living as the monster parents told their children about at night. Even in this new world, one he was only beginning to understand, there was no hiding his nature.Â
This boy before him, pitiful, cowering, covered in anotherâs blood, pleading for mercy, he wasnât a monster despite his claims. A monster did not try and excuse their actions, nor did they beg for mercy. Of course, he was hardly normal, considering the state he was in, but normal enough that he would pose no threat.Â
If I meant to harm you, I would not have wasted time on this wretched thing. A voice echoed within the boyâs mind, world weary and low, as he settled one hand on the rabbitâs carcass, turning to collect tinder for a fire. It was time to feed himself, then rest until his bones no longer ached and his muscles moved without protest. In the morning, he would begin his journey. To where, he didnât know. Wherever this world had a place for an old relic like him.
He turned his gaze to the boy again, reminded vividly of a child far younger than this one. A boy without a people, a boy who placed all his trust in the monster. Heâd repaid his debt to the boy with his life long ago, yet something tugged at his dormant heart when he set his gaze on the young man before him, recalling his mention of being imprisoned. You are not the only one who was kept for the amusement of evil men. Despite his own selfish need to care for himself, he dropped onto the ground, arranging his tinder to begin his fire.Â
Monster or not, you may share in my catch tonight. But I will not hesitate to kill you if you turn against me.
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Iâm so sorry, @noblcsse and @inadxquacy, for taking so long in replying to you. Iâve been battling the worst stomach flu the past week and itâs drained me more than work has. But Iâll do my best to get those posts out at least by tomorrow night! Thanks for being so patient.
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WHAT ARE YOUR MUSEâS AESTHETICS ?
BOLD any which apply to your muse ! ( Italicize for borderline things )
remember to REPOST ! feel free to add to the list !
red //  orange  //  yellow  //  green  //  blue  //  purple //  pink  //  beige  //  fire  //  ice  // water  //  air  //  earth  //  claws  //  fangs  //  wings  //  gold  //  diamonds  //  grass  // leaves  //  trees  //  roses  // metal  //  iron  //  rust  //  rain  //  snow  //  lace  //  leather  // silk  //  velvet  //  denim  // cotton  //  sun //  moon  //  stars  // blood  //  dirt  //  mud  // silver  // steel  //  sugar  //  salt  //  pepper //  lavender  //  glass  //  wood  //  paper  //  wool  //  fur  // smoke  //  ash  //  cigarettes  //  cigars  //  candy  //  bubbles  //  ocean  // city scape  //  bruises  //  scars //  wind  //  spices  //  light  //  dark  //  paint  //  lingerie  // charcoal  //  wine  //  phone  //  hard liquor //  sweat  //  tears  //  dust  //  lips  // smiles  // bare feet  //  hats //  canine  //  feline  //  coffee  //  tea  //  books  //  photos  //  sketches  // analog  //  digital  //  clockwork // scratches  //  petals  //  thorns  //  hay  //  glitter //  heat  // cold  //  steam  //  frost //  dewdrops  //  candle  //  sword  //  dagger  //  arrow  //  staff  // hammer  //  axe  //  shield  // spikes  //  sand  //  rocks  //  roots  //  feathers  //  pearls  // rubies  // sapphires  //  emeralds  // amethyst  //  herbs  //  waves  //  lightning  // sunlight  // moonlight  //  rainbow  //  money  //  clay  //  stone  //  brick  //  lions  //  wolves  //  black  // white  //  birds  //  eyes  //  hands //  flowers  // angels //  heaven  // holiness  //  hell  // medicine  //  needles  // sharp objects  //  guns  //  mechs  //  dragons  // pastels //  dreams // poetry  //  video games  //  hacking  //  neon  //  distorted images // spiders  // insects  // deep water //  elysium //  graveyards //  death //  resurrection  // nature  // churches  // priests  // crosses //  sacrifice  //  skulls //  nymphs  // strings // instruments
tagged by: @noblcsse
tagging: whoever would like to do this!
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đ
munday meme. || accepting.Â
How many active muses do you have in total?
At the moment, I have One-Eye here, Solara, Greg, Jyn and Hela. Though Iâve really gotta work on being more active with all of them.
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sentence starters for enemies
"I want to be there when you get what's coming to you."
"One day karma is going to bite you in the ass."
"How could you do this?"
"What do you want now?"
"If you are going to be two-faced, at least make one of them attractive."
"Fuck you!"
"Oh, what? Sorry. I was trying to imagine you with a personality."
"That was a low blow."
"You're truly a disgusting person."
"Don't bring my [relative] into this!"
"I would unplug your life support to charge my phone."
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Do you have anything to say that won't result in me punching you in the face?"
"Tread carefully."
"Two wrongs don't make a right; take your parents as an example."
"Get off my property."
"Stupidity is not a crime so you are free to go."
"Leave me alone."
"So what?"
"You look like a before picture."
"Don't be a coward. Say it to my face."
"You're so fake."
"Apologize before I deck you."
"This means war."
"I'd like to see things from your point of view but I can't seem to get my head that far up my ass."
"Can't we compromise?"
"Go to hell."
"Hating me won't make you pretty."
"Can you try not annoying me every 30 seconds?"
"I wasn't born with enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel about you."
"Fuck off!"
"I thought we settled this."
"I'm glad to see you're not letting your education get in the way of your ignorance."
"Stay classy."
"You are not as bad as people say. You are much, much worse."
"Your sarcasm detector needs tweaking."
"Get off me!"
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"
"Name one reason why I shouldn't walk away right now."
"Is this making you angry?"
"Karma takes too long. I'd rather beat the shit out of you just now."
"Shock me and say something intelligent."
"Ouch. That one stung."
"That's cruel."
"I didn't think I was capable of murder until this conversation."
"Truce?"
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injury/torture starter sentences
âOne more word and Iâll break your other arm too.â
âI know it hurts, but youâre not alone. Iâm here for you.â
âWill you please tell me who did this to you?â
âSomething happened to you while you were gone and if you donât start talking about it you will only sink further and further into this darkness.â
âI know what leaves those scars. Iâm sorry. Nobody should have to go through that torture.â
âWhich do you prefer? Your tongue or your eyes?â
âMy whole life Iâve been searching for someone willing to endure my torture⊠Evidently I got impatient.â
âYou have something I want. Give it to me and I will let you go. Itâs that simple.â
âWhy Iâm doing this to you? There is no why⊠I just like it.â
âDonât cry, darling, Iâm still your best friend. This doesnât change anything.â
âPlease donât panic, itâs just a small knife.â
âShut upâ SHUT UP! I canât think with all your screaming!â
âYouâre dying. Oh my god, youâre dying! That wasnât supposed to happen!â
âIf you donât tell me whatâs been happening to you, you leave me no choice but to leave you.â
âWhy wonât you talk to me about what happened? Youâve had the same blank look in your eyes for weeks.â
âWhere did that scar come from? You didnât have that before the holiday, did you?â
âI want you to take this knife and make a nice, long cut in your own skin.â
âBeg for your life, if you want it. I will spare you if your pleads satisfy me.â
âI donât know whether Iâm going to kill you or not. You think I have that much self-control? Ha! Youâre cute.â
âTell me what you know and the pain will stop, I promise.â
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munday meme - multimuse edition
There's a lot of munday-memes asking the muns questions about the muses, but those are always only about one muse. This meme here is for those mun's who've got plenty of muses. So send a symbol for a question.
đ: How many active muses do you have in total?
đ: Are there any muses you want to add, but aren't sure about?
đȘ: Are any relationships between your muses? (friends, family, enemies, etc.)
đ : From waht you know of my muse, which of your muses would you reccomend me to play with and why?
đ: Which is your favorite muse?
đ: With which of your muses can you identify the most?
đŹ: Write a banter between two of your muses. (Bonus: Sender chooses which muses)
đ: Which of your muses would probably get sexual with each other, if they met?
đ: Which of your muses would probably fight each other if they met?
đ: Which is your most childish muse?
đą: Which is your most mature muse?
đ»: Which is your most mischievous muse?
đ: Which of your muses is the most clever/intelligent/educated one?
đ: Which of your muses is the least clever/intelligent/educated one?
đ°: WHich of your muses would you date?
đ„: Which of your muses would you fight with?
đ©: Which of your muses is the most loyal?
đ: Which of your muses is the most peaceful/friendly one?
đŠ: Which of your muses is the vainest?
đ: Which of your muses is the fastest?
đź: Which of your muses is the strongest?
đ·: Which of your mises is the naughtiest?
đș: Which of your muses is the most unsocial?
đč: Which of your muses is the smallest?
đ: Which of your muses is the tallest?
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inadxquacy:
It was sickening how they behaved, in and out of company. She hadnât been there too long, her father had just brought his full grown half-blood daughter with him because her mother died, and she had not wed, partly due being an outlandish bastard. Or so she was told even though she was just as good as any, sheâd proven it several times. Here she was just a woman in the humidity like any other female. The Northâs air was cruel and trying, here it was moist and bitter. The clan had built an adequate settlement where sheâd learn to their ways, were it against her will or not, and after some months, perhaps 13 or so she still wasnât comfortable. Their chief seemed fair and smart, having welcomed Laura immediately, and with her father occasionally gone doing trade with other clans she trusted her safety in his hands. Sheâd met barbarians, and was now living with a bunch of such.Â
In the beginning she thought the dog fights were the worst of it, but seeing a man brought, held, and then taken somewhere but not having returned gave her some idea where money went and came from. The monstrousness of humans forced out with the threat of death. When they brought someone new she wasnât exactly surprised to see a caged man who probably did not have a crime on his conscience. The men would laugh at him made bets, and the women would look at him with disgust and fear. Poor man, having to live like an animal. Donât go near him or hell bite off you hand, the clan men would threaten women and children acting as if they were heroes. Â
Would a beast always be a beast? Laura had a blind wish there was a little good in everyone, most simply hid it to protect it. Grabbing a ladle of water she approached the caged man, knowing that he was indeed a man, kneeling to offer the water through the rods to his lips, not fearing but instead feeling rage inside of her she tried to contain by forcefully controlled breaths. âDrink. Please.â If they were to make any money they wouldnât leave him there in the cold unattended, it would make him weaker for sure.
The bitter cold of highland air tore at his exposed skin, a shiver running through his spine despite his best efforts to stay still. Theyâd taken his shirt when he was handed over, tearing it to shreds when he fought to escape from his jailers. With his hands bound above his head, no hope in releasing the thick ties that held him, he wasnât even afforded the luxury of the use of his arms to warm his body. The thick skin of his hide would hardly offer any protection from the elements, and he could only hope that the bastards would not forget that he was indeed mortal, as much as the rest of them, and would light some sort of fire to keep him alive through the night.Â
Though any thoughts of warmth fled his mind when his eye locked upon the woman approaching his prison, expression stern as she drew close, as if he was as harmless as a newborn lamb. But he was very much the bloodthirsty wolf they made him out to be, or so he would have them all believe. The woman was not familiar with his story, if her willingness to approach offered any clue.Â
He glanced to the ladle, dry throat parched and in need of something to slake a thirst heâd battled for days. Chapped lips parted to accept the liquid, lunging forward to soak his maw in the relief of the water. It trickled into his greying beard, washing away dried soil and blood, his skin a shade lighter under the filth and grime. When the ladle emptied, he immediately drew back, keeping a watchful eye on the woman. He couldnât trust any of them, even the woman who thought to comfort him in his iron cell.Â
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@inadxquacy
There were six men on hand to pin the beast down, though they were hard-pressed to do so. Sharp teeth tore at exposed flesh. Scrabbling hands found purchase in heads of hair, yanking until bloody clumps came free. Bare feet caked in filth swinging wildly, catching a man in the chin, the swift kick that followed breaking his captorâs neck in half. He would have reveled in the death, but his satisfaction was short-lived as his face was shoved into the ground, rotten soil assaulting his nostrils. His single eye roved wildly, finally finding focus on his owner, a cocky young man who could hardly hold a clan together. Money passed between him and an older chieftain, past the prime of his life, and it was then that he knew. And resigned himself to fate.
Five more years of indentured servitude. Then he would be free.Â
That was the lie they fed him. Or, to be accurate, forced down his throat nearly as swiftly as theyâd put a collar around his neck. He was hauled to his feet, forced to walk ahead with his hands restrained behind his back. The iron cut and bruised wind-chafed skin, flesh worn with scars and brands in abundance bared for the world to see while he was led to his new prison.Â
AÂ rough cage constructed from heavy rods, damp earth as the floor the only luxury he was afforded in his cell. Had his hands not been bound and then anchored to the bars of his cage, he might have had a chance to escape. Wait until the dead of night. Tunnel out under the bars. Kill any man foolish enough to stand in his way of freedom. Run. And never stop lest they catch him again.Â
The men whoâd taken him left after a time, jeering and taunting the new clan pet, wagering amongst themselves on his odds for survival. Most doubted a wild animal like him would never last long, not if he had to fight day in and day out for his life.Â
They were underestimating him. Good. It would make their inevitable demise all the sweeter.Â
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I love this icon. That is all.
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