#varn

[homicidal-liu]

Meet: Varn, Shinigami (OC from Death Note)

Art by me hehehe >:)

Find me on Pinterest ---> https://pin.it/7G7pux47i

(I don't know if the link will work :c)

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Patient Log

Author's note: Pre-husbandry for Rexel Varn.

Summary: Rexel muses on his brothers.

Warning: Uh... Rexel Varn being himself. LMK if I need to add anything else.

tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @i-am-a-dragon34 @ms--lobotomy @jaghatai-khock @legionsofthehungry

tagged: @kit-williams @aprofessionaln00b @bleedingichorhearts @thevoidscreams @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis @egrets-not-regrets @finchly-tintinnabulation @nereidof40k @bookandyarndragon

He comes to me trembling.

Not with fear, he insists, though his lips never quite form the words. He carries himself with stiffness, as though willing his body to obey a strength he does not feel. Eagerness, he would name it, if pressed. But I know the difference.

The tremor of anticipation is quick and hot, like sparks before the flame. Fear shakes deeper, slower, like a quenching bath gone cold.

This is fear.

He is ashamed of it, though he hides it beneath a soldier’s mask. I do not condemn him. Fear is natural before the forge. Every ingot fears the hammer before it learns the truth of its shaping.

“Brother Av’ek,” I say gently, resting a hand upon his pauldron. My fingers leave a smear of sacred oil there, black against green, but he does not notice. His eyes are elsewhere, already caught in the pull of the slab. “You are brave to come. You honor Vulkan with this courage.”

His jaw tightens. His gaze flicks — quick, involuntary — to the restraints gleaming under the lumen-lamps. He says nothing. His silence screams.

I smile. It is always so. They see chains where I see cradles. They see straps where I see safety. They cannot yet understand that only the bound can endure the fire’s embrace.

“I will not bind you long,” I promise, my tone as soft as the forge’s first ember. “Only until the fire has taken root. Then you will rise, stronger. Truer.”

His throat works, but no words come. At last he nods, hesitant, the barest dip of his head — a soldier’s surrender.

Emperor preserve me, Av’ek thinks, lowering himself onto the slab. I should not be afraid. I am Salamander. I am his brother. Why then does my heart pound like prey?

Metal kisses his back, cold and unyielding. He lays himself down, rigid as a statue, as though stiffness could hide his shaking.

The restraints click shut. One after another. Patient, final.

The auto-servo arms stir overhead, lenses winking red. Their whirring fills the chamber, a mechanical hymn. To others it might sound cold, inhuman. To me it is a chorus. The forge sings with me.

I anoint his brow with a smear of oil, tracing the runes of the Promethean Creed. “You are not alone, Brother. Vulkan watches. His fire will not abandon you.”

Then why do I feel abandoned already? Av’ek thinks, his eyes straining toward the lumen-lamps above. The glare blinds him, but it is easier than meeting my gaze. I said yes. I walked here. Why do I wish I hadn’t?

The cutter hums to life in my hand, its edge glowing like a coal. I see his throat tense. He does not move — cannot — but his breath quickens, shallow, uneven.

“Do not fight it,” I murmur, setting the blade to the line of his breastplate. “All metal resists the first stroke. That is why we cut. That is why we shape.”

Sparks leap as the ceramite parts. The smell of scorched paint and polymer fills the air. Beneath the sundered plate, his plasteel ribbing gleams. Beneath that waits the softness I must burn away.

Av’ek clenches his teeth until his jaw aches. He will not cry out. He must not. Yet the vibration of the cutter travels through his chest, rattling his bones, and the sound is unbearable. Emperor, why is it so loud? Why does it feel as though I am being hollowed out?

I pause only long enough to meet his gaze. “Good,” I whisper, as though soothing a child. “You feel the fire’s kiss. That means you live.”

The cutter falls silent. I set it aside, take up the cauteriser. Its heat washes over us both, a radiance that dries the sweat on his brow before it falls. His eyes widen, and he trembles harder against the restraints.

“Please—” he rasps, and his voice cracks with shame.

I hush him with a touch to his cheek, tender as any brother. “Only until the fire has taken root.”

Then I press the cauteriser down.

His scream tears the air, raw and ragged, a cry ripped from the forge itself. His chest opens with a hiss, steam and blood boiling together, rising in a cloud that reeks of iron and ash.

His lungs quiver beneath the light, pale and wet, struggling like a creature dragged into flame. Av’ek gags, his mind shrinking from the sight. That is me. Those are my lungs. He is tearing me apart. I will not survive this. Emperor, I will not—

But I guide his chin gently back. “No, Brother,” I whisper through the vapor. “Do not look away. Look. See what you are. See what you will no longer be.”

See how your weakness dies before Vulkan’s fire.

[rjalker]

"look zyg if I wanted to kill you I'd have done it already can you please just trust me already we just want to be friends"

[ID: A detailed, black and white ink drawing of a scene from the short story Cry from a Far Planet, by Tom Godwin, showing a large, cat-like alien with black fur and lighter markings rearing up on their hind legs, using one paw to brush the face of a human man, who tries to move away from it, holding a scifi gun in one hand, his other arm raised to protect himself. The two are standing inside a darkened spaceship, with knobs and dials around them. End ID.]

Cry from a Far Planet, by Tom Godwin, from Amazing Science Fiction Stories September 1958.

Also available as an audiobook on Librivox's youtube channel in this collection video

I love this concept. yes. Lets travel the stars together and make friends with people!!! And stop having communication issues!!!!

not that the telepathy is a guarenteed way to fix the communication issues. as is the whole thing going on here. RIP

[bullterrierpeacefuldog]

I drew a pack of portraits some time ago and I remembered, that I have an account in tumblr, so I can post it here. Behold!In a row:

1) Our ambiguous angel, Tristian

2) The beloved companion in all game - Regongar, The StandUpGuy

3) My main protagonist in PF - Baron Virag aka Bard with cluster F-bomb (CG)

4) Another Baron - Vindictive Bastard (yes, it’s a real class) Vard and his demonic sword (LG -->LE)

5) Our friend, neighbour and unrequited love - baron Maegar Varn

6) And another Baron - Vivisector Ingelbert with his very specific kind of humour (LE)

7) Varn’s General -  wizard Siril, The Pafos One (LE)

8) My best friend’s @solanj Baroness - wizard Claricia: fearless, strong and strict (LG)

9) And my own favorite of all characters in PF - Sephal!

[athlen-the-merman]

PALS I FINISHED CRIER'S WAR AAAAAAAA

🐸*spoiler alert if u haven't read Crier's war yet but you want to, do not continue reading*🐸

-------------------////////////////--------------------

WDYM CRIER ISNT FLAWED-

WDYM SHE HASN'T GOT PASSION AS ONE OF HER 2 (+1) HUMAN PILARS

CRIER IS GAY FOR AYLA BUT WHAT ABOUT AYLA HUH,,, DOES SHE LIKE BENJY OR CRIER,,, OR NEITHER

NINA VARELA EXPLAIN RN 🤬🤬

[dswcp]

oh fuck

(The jousting pole reminds me of the 2D Clone Wars show!)

Star Wars Newspaper Comic Strip: “The Serpent Masters.” August 23, 1981. Writer: Archie Goodwin. Illustrator: Al Williamson.

[gossamerlions]

I’ve been working on my full bodies, trying to get more comfortable before I put them out for commission. Anyway, here’s Varn, Katie’s new king. Probs one of my favorite kings/characters to be introduced.

[jesterden]

Lore Post - Brotherly Love

No image this time, similar to Vashti’s death b/c there isn’t really an image I could imagine putting with this. Also no cut. This is Vashkartzen drinking loving his brothers juice (aka saving their dumbasses).

————

The trading center was a place the family didn’t go to often. However, hunting had been hard recently, so that left the family on the hunt for lions selling food.

Or, well, Viskar and Vashkartzen were. He had given the younger two, V’kai and Varn, a pawful each of silver beetles, and strictly told them to stay out of trouble while they entertained themselves.

“What do you want to get, Varn?” V’kai’s smile was contagious as his little brother trotted beside him, his bag of silver beetles hanging from his middle.

The young cub looked up. “I want a skull!” With that excitement, he then proceeded to trip over a nearby tail, falling forward in a way that would have been funny, had it not been for the paw that kicked him to the side afterwards.

“Hey!” The lion paid V’kai no attention, even as Varn began to cry in the dirt. “I’m talking to you, douchebag!”

Now, the lion stopped. He didn’t speak, however, so V’kai continued his barrage. “What kind of numbnut kicks a little cub? He’s only eight months old, you stupid prick!”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” The lion growled, turning around and revealing a heavily scarred face, and an almost sadistic grin. “What’s your name?” He took a heavy step closer, lowering his head to stare.

V’kai slowly backed up, pulling Varn along with a paw. The cub was still sniffling, but V’kai set his jaw and tried to look as intimidating as he could. “My name doesn’t matter, because I’ll beat you so hard you’ll forget it anyway!”

Varn also stood his ground. “You’re a butt face!”

The lion across from him chuckled, and V’kai’s blood turned to ice. “I’m not going to waste my time with something like you.” Relief flooded through the adolescents doubloon lion, but then-

“Deal with them.”

Two snarling lionesses came from the crowd around them, and V’kai quickly snatched Varn in his mouth, tearing through the plaza that made up the trading center.

Maybe, this was how he died. V’kai’s kings were screaming as he kept running, now a worrying distance away from the trading center. The lionesses kept nipping at his tail, until one of them actually managed to sink her teeth into it, pulling him to a harsh stop and causing Varn to fall out of his mouth. The cub squeaked as he hit the ground, rolling to a stop in the dirt, and lionesses surrounded V’kai-

A loud roar interrupted his thoughts, as a dark ginger blur tore through the air and tackled the lioness currently on top of V’kai. It growled loudly, and judging by the sounds, it wasn’t fighting for fun. It turned around to the other, snarling and smacking her harshly, the sound of torn fur and skin filling the air. The lionesses had tried to fight back, but there wasn’t much of a chance to begin with. By the time V’kai collected himself, they were taking shallow, final breaths on the ground.

He looked up to his savior, and his jaw fell slack. “Vash?”

“How do you always get into situations like this, V’kai?” Vashkartzen’s voice was a low growl, but it broke towards the end as he looked at his little brother, with all the small scratches and bruises. He shook his head. “Nevermind. Are you two alright?”

Two? Oh, right, Varn. V’kai remembered the cub as he toddled over, rubbing himself against Vashkartzen’s leg. “That was awesome!” Varn sounded incredibly happy to witness a fight like that. For once, V’kai was speechless as Varn continued talking. “You were like ROAAAAARRRR and they were like AAAAAHHHH and you beat them up!”

Instead of a scolding, Vashkartzen simply laughed. “Yeah… yeah I did.” He pulled his brothers close, nuzzling into V’kai’s fur and forcing Varn between them.

V’kai put his head over Vashkartzen’s, closing his eyes and huffing. “Thanks, bro.”

“You’re welcome,” He whispered, “Bro.”