trying on a metaphor
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
taylor price
noise dept.
oozey mess
if i look back, i am lost
⁂
JBB: An Artblog!
Product Placement
ellievsbear
No title available
Peter Solarz
Mike Driver
One Nice Bug Per Day
Love Begins
titsay
Origami Around
Xuebing Du
Cosimo Galluzzi
Kaledo Art
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Bulgaria
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from France
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from Paraguay
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from Ireland
seen from United States
seen from Panama
seen from United States
seen from United States
@ashenail
#ASHENAIL ㅤ;ㅤ “ㅤ burn the witch ! they demand, why, why me ? i criedㅤ -ㅤ private, highly selective blog for a LEAGUE + FANDOMLESS PORTRAYAL, where the stage is taken by ㅤCORVINㅤ LOCKE.ㅤ fandoms for any affiliated verses are not tied to the blog. +21 only, non - rp, pro - ship, self inserts / yumeship, etc. do not follow / interact.
about + verses + rules. promo. / prompts.
Like this for a tiny starter mayhaps. If you have a preference in verses feel free to lmk! If not it'll be randomized as I think on something
» ROADSIDE PICNIC. dialogue and action prompts pulled from and inspired by arkady and boris strugatsky’s novel, roadside picnic, using olena bormashenko's translation. mature content ahead. change as you see fit, stalker.
dialogue.
out of curiosity, what exactly is within your area of expertise?
you wanted to kill me. i’ll remember that.
stop. don’t move an inch.
believe it or not, i always figured you’d make something of yourself.
where do you get this disdain for man?
i’d say the gesture is pretty transparent.
you’ve gotten proud.
everything i say will be carried out immediately and unconditionally.
take off if you want, i won’t keep you.
i don’t like it when other people sort things out for me.
take it slow. don’t rush. don’t raise dust.
frankly, i’ve always assumed this was all, to put it mildly, a bit exaggerated.
this is no boulevard, and we aren’t here on a stroll.
haven’t seen you in ages. where have you been hiding?
starting up your old tricks again, are you?
hold the fort, as they say, and i’ll bring you back some chocolates.
don’t you try to pal around with me.
the old-timers are gone, the young ones are clueless, and on top of that, the prestige of the craft isn’t what it once was.
what a chance you blew. what a chance!
i don’t like empty fantasies.
let’s order another round. i’ve really gotten a taste for it.
someone squealed on us. they’re waiting.
eat, drink, and be merry, because i came back alive.
you requested my presence?
on top of that, i think you’re also a saboteur.
what is it about this place? it’s just a hole, a provincial town…
want a sip? for courage.
if you chicken out, i’ll find you in the afterlife.
would you like me to walk with you?
aren’t you ashamed of yourself? after all, you’re an educated man.
our conversation has just started. sit down.
what the hell are you grabbing my sleeve for?
you always were a piece of scum. a vulture.
argue with you? never even considered it.
don’t you try to force your customs on us.
the strikes, the demonstrations, the never-ending politics… to hell with your europe!
i’m warning you as an old friend: give up this nonsense, give it up for good.
suck in your gut, soldier!
i’m proud to know you.
i dream of living my entire life in my hometown.
you’re dealing in death, you jerk.
sometimes even i get goosebumps when i think about this data.
who would believe this lunacy?
if i come back and find that you’ve double-crossed me … i don’t suggest you double-cross me.
i’m at your service.
why in the world do we need money, if all we ever do is keep working?
i’ve never sold my soul to anyone!
may these bastards suffer, let them eat shit like i did.
i don’t want to work for you, your work makes me want to puke, you understand?
action. switch sender and receiver's places as you please.
homeward. the sender finds the receiver in an empty street at night, bloodied and beaten.
jeep. the sender drives in a hurry as the receiver sits injured in the backseat.
borscht. the sender and receiver sit shoulder-to-shoulder at the booth of a crowded bar.
stalk. the sender quietly leads the receiver down the road of an abandoned neighborhood.
communal. after a day’s work, the sender and receiver hit the showers.
tombstone. the sender and receiver hide in a cemetery to evade the police.
once over. the sender slowly turns around, allowing the receiver to check over their body.
gutting. the sender brings fresh meat into the receiver’s kitchen, intending to butcher and cook it.
mixer. the sender prepares a drink for the receiver, being heavy handed with the alcohol.
ring. the sender opens a briefcase towards the receiver, presenting the contents.
edge. the sender foregoes a seat and sits on the receiver’s desk.
light. the sender takes the lighter out of the receiver’s shaking hands and lights their cigarette for them.
jab. the sender suddenly kicks the receiver’s shin.
share. the sender passes their flask to the receiver.
courtesy. the sender enters a place they and the receiver agreed to meet, barely making it on time.
quagmire. the sender and receiver make their way through a dead bog.
lowkey wanna say that his dad probably walked out on him and his mother because he didn't align himself with the things his wife was doing, how she was going about it. then as a result, left locke behind as well. it probably added to the lacking ability to say no to his mother bc she was technically the only family he had left, the thought of being kicked to the side by her or worse if he was defiant in his youth added to his self - esteem, always meant he was an easier target to harass and tease bc corvin was so docile.
the whole thing definitely left him with ptsd that has been more or less added to his dislike of humanity, people in general, adding to his avoidant behavior with physical touch. he is just the ' leave me the hell alone if you have no reason to be near me. ' type, even though he craves that personal connection. sure, he once had that with vayne in their childhood, with her being his only friend that he could feel less out of place with. she has changed too, regardless of his very clear want to help her, bc out of everyone he doesn't want to see her suffer for something she had no control over.
no ai usage over here. you’re gonna get my shitty authentic writing whether you like it or not
all the months and weeks and years spent learning beautiful melodies upon impossible chords felt utterly useless in this moment. as a child back in ionia, she'd learned how to soothe, how to heal small aches and bruises and superficial scratches; with time, the etwahl taught her greater spells, though she didn't know them as spells, only that the music she wove could be more than what met the ear. despite demacia's prejudices, it was her home, and the only true home she'd ever known. for that, it was safe, some place she could feel at ease without a care in the world. the etwahl has been with her all her life, but it's still mysterious, even to her. with some semblance of sentience, it taught her all she needed; without cause for harm, it neglected to specify what would save her.
sona's molars grind together and she kicks up a cloud of dust and sends small pebbles and stones flying as she backs further up against the tree to no avail. it frustrates her, knowing she might already know how to play what she needs, but she knew the songs only as songs, nothing more, except for the melodic auras that healed. sona thinks only of one, the crescendo to her famous finale, remembering the pain it wrought to the audience's muscles, how it forced them to dance like marionettes; she remembers the exhaustion it lay upon her, and she cannot afford that now.
just when she thinks the worst of her fate, she hears a roaring shout ripple through the woods. it startles her for a fraction of a second, but it's enough to rejuvenate her, reigniting her instinct to survive. sona's fingers dance rapidly along the etwahl's strings and throws a barrier around herself to leave just enough time to duck and vault toward the ground. she scrambles to her feet and breaks off running, catching a glimpse of a man just a few meters away, tearing the attention of the beast off from her. breath heavy in her chest, she ducks behind a tree. her heart is racing, fluttering, pounding, a million beats per second, but she can't just leave this man on his own. sona steadies her instrument and breathes in softly, closing her eyes to play careful notes, this time offering her protector a stronger barrier than she'd given to herself.
in part, he's glad she managed to act as soon as his voice reached her. it made things easier, gave him space to do what he did best, this was a hulking demon. talons which could easily rend the trees surrounding them into nothing, a thrashing serpentine half that could upheave the ground with enough force and given the state of its being. it was starved for something worth sating it. what better than a fearful youth? he curses under his breath when a claw is raised and sidesteps upon slamming it down, in the same breath a nail finds it's spot in the plane of its forearm. locke hadn't seen where the woman fled to, in part he hoped she continued running. but there was a wash of magic to take hold, it felt like spring winds, gentle, refreshing - was it her?
there is another swipe that has locke swiftly stepping backwards, making space between the two. when he ponders the sensation he feels that which this barrier covered him felt like a cloak, a little more secured, grounded. okay, he thinks to himself, lets see what we're working with. the creature could hardly move quickly, it held the type of body to drag itself along the ground, no hind limbs to assist - the only distance it can utilize was the reach of its arms and judging by its mass, it would have no problem pulling itself along to close any distance. when another desperate swipe of claws come locke is quick to duck and throw an additional two nails in response. embedding them into the plane of its bicep.
the flinch from it is violent, and the thrashing begins in earnest before it tries to flee from its assailant. part of him hopes it's given up it's target, clearly she's still here. gone from sight but he can sense the magic she holds. unholstering the nails at his hip he throws them into the creature's other arm the moment an opening is spotted upon it's outreached hand. " it can sense your magic. " locke calls out, a warning, a reminder that it is still capable regardless of the state it's in now.
also, pen name change from reign to sonata. you can still call me reign if you want to though idc much, but i need a name change
thinking about locke never finding a place to truly call home. because he home he had was nothing but lies and deceit, manipulation and hardly half truths. home is a concept he isn't buddy - buddy with and has probably used old abandoned homes / estates as temporary or prolonged havens, the constant practice of purifying the area and putting up wards in order to enact cleansings for his work. it's like routine at the point in which it's grown tiring. he could have a home of his any time, he could simply purchase the land the estate he occupies resides but ... he doesn't feel like he'd live long / well enough to make something of it. so it's been something he just doesn't toss and turn between. other times he just sticks to tavern inns for rest and personal needs.
can you tell i love playing locke
Fyodor Dostoevsky, from a letter featured in Letters of Fyodor Michailovitch Dostoevsky to his Family & Friends
like this for some asks ! might send a couple for each, multis you CAN request for a specific muse, or i'll just pick for myself or i'll send some for multiple muses you may have
it's safe to say that i can assume locke can communicate with the souls he seals away, and i further wanna note that because of his talents. maybe there has been a few demons here and there that he has sealed and in simple terms forced to comply with his work through his spellbinding and rituals. upon cleansing, i want to say he traps them, and seals them away into artifacts he uses. now, i am all for canon divergencies for my own storytelling - hence where i'm going towards in this moment. but i wanna say his signature artifact : the skull is a demon of greed. perhaps they have made a pact with one another, he feeds them the souls of those he has condemned, the demon keeps them in check or devours them entirely. completely erasing their existence.
it would make sense in a way given the amount of nails he has in it. to keep that tight of a leash, and his moral standing that demons are the least of humanity's concerns when they themselves are their worst enemies. to use a demon to punish the wicked, that's something i can see locke doing and it has been hinted that he does. i mean, he let evelynn go without issue once she gave up information on another demon hunting vayne down. she's an extremely cunning and dangerous demon, so to let her go with ease and not go back on his word speaks volumes on the lengths he'll go for his work.
# ASHENAIL. ❝ we all have our demons, but we don't know we feed 'em. — this is an independent, selective CORVIN LOCKE from the league of legends franchise. unaffiliated with any and all fandoms featured here, but holds many verses such as : castlevania, dnd / bg3, horror, cyberpunk, deadlock & more to come! penned by reign, +21 only with further information here ( @nailashe ) if you're interested please like & reblog !
VERSES. updated, 07/04/2026. will always be under construction. these are minor descriptions that will simply have to do.
MAIN VERSE. follows the flow of league world lore. with bits and pieces of my own storytelling. locke travels throughout demacia on personal endeavors and exorcism work.
FANDOMLESS. a modern, urban setting in which locke is a well known, highly efficient exorcist that deals with all manners of supernatural beings born of guilt and misery. this can also translate to DND and FANTASY verses.
MODERN. a professor for occult studies and history, enjoys his free time traveling and learning about the world's mythological and occult history. sometimes spends his time in the libraries or hole in the wall bars reading.
CASTLEVANIA. a demon hunter, an exorcist, locke travels helping those who have suffered from the after effects of dracula's war against humanity. as much as he believes the actions of humanity were mere consequences of ignorance and hate. corvin works tirelessly to provide both protection and succor to more vulnerable locations.
DEADLOCK. ( temp ) locke is an occultist who owns a shop of various purposes. but at the end of the day, his work speaks for itself when handling matters involving supernatural entities. a victim to a forced ritual at the hands of his mother, locke hopes to end the rituals so no other suffers consequences of both human and supernatural greed.
VAMPIRE THE MASQUERADE. brought into the tremere clan, locke's mother held an unnatural obsession with the dark arts and concepts of immortality. throughout his childhood, he learned the temptations of black magic, its rituals, and the sacrifices made to obtain power. fear was his driving purpose, fear of his mother, fear of disappointing her. the fear that came with saying no. until one day their ritual, their endeavors led to undeath, something wrong. uncanny.
CYBERPUNK. an edgerunner who flies solo, prefers to work by himself but occasionally employs the work of familiar netrunners. it's a touch and go ordeal, but in night city one can never be trusting in the people you call " allies ".
i like w.e tf is wrong w locke
League of Legends - Back From The Brink (Locke Champion Cinematic)
