COLOSSEO

[Affiliated With Isola Radiale] Townhouse 239 // Enough Strength to Barely Lift a Bus [RULES ARE UNDERNEATH STATS LINKED UNDER APERITIF]

[valiantcharge]

Somewhere Azrael sleeps halfway off a bench, drooling, snoring, face down. God only knows what he’s been doing this whole time--the empty bottles underneath the bench might explain more recent events, though. 

[valiantcharge]

dimittere​:

almost nostalgic, the sight of the spirited, perhaps even wild child is. ganondorf ever watchful and careful in his eyes. the MACHINATIONS of a grand villain put to a stop in this city, but it doesn’t mean that he couldn’t still watch the pass of other citizens. and it is so very amusing to watch this particular turn of events! unaware of his own prior transformations, perhaps ganondorf would not quietly MOCK the passerby of the city.

❝well, what a spot of bad luck we’ve had.❞ knuckles of a POWERFUL hand rest beneath his chin, golden triangle burning molten beneath skin. not mocking, he is, though purring with AMUSEMENT nonetheless. once, he bore such spirit within him that his mothers could hardly handle him in one of his moods. now MATURED, rough exterior and weeping heart. ❝with that attitude i do wonder how many friends you even HAVE.❞

a tilting of his brows, sharp gaze of burning eyes wandering beyond the other’s tousled sheen of azure. he’s uncertain of the details, but clearly someone in the crowds messed with the WRONG kid. hands fold together beneath his chin, as if he expects danger to follow.

@valiantcharge liked for a starter.

The young Azrael stares up, eyes empty in their crimson glimmer. He’s a dirty mess, left unsupervised, left to sort out such a knotted heart. Feral desires unbound, hunger stirring ever stronger as he discovers what waits outside for him. He’s not ready for society, as he is. And he never will be. 

“They don’t let me have friends.” he mumbles through the adrenaline. “I eat them. Whether I want to or not, I eat them.” 

He’s fixated on the golden triangle, wondering what magic lies behind it. Inhaling, he takes in the much older man’s scent. His expression slowly turns, with the same awe of a beast witnessing a great fire. 

Not wanting to wield it. But revel in it. To burn with it. To learn to dance the way it does. With his strength, a few punches would fell any normal being through sheer force. But this one, this one he wants....he wants to....won’t he fall differently? He wants to...!! Nostrils flaring; 

“I want a taste of you!” 

Azrael lunges, a fist thrown with his entire body in a clumsy display of power. Like a mutt with it’s mouth wide open, instinct--hunger--the only motivator. 

[valiantcharge]

flynni​:

…

What the honest-to-holy-hell?

Flynn, in all of his well trained balance, still struggles as the car beneath him is tipped to a degree of annoyance. He’s seen unbridled aggression before, gotten a good whiff of it from the Baron and company and was still out running off its trail. But this kid has peaked all expectations for careless violence.

“Look, I sense your hostility and I’m going to have to ask you to take it down a notch. Or, like ten notches, really.”

The young teen backs down, eyes downcast and distant as he scowls. 

“What’s the fun of freedom if all that’s gonna show up are flies like you...doesn’t this shitty place have authorities or anything?” 

He sways, kicking the concrete from the ground, any debris detached sent flying. Anyone else in the area had quickly realized trouble and left, save for a few passing by vehicles. Eventually he sits on the sidewalk, pouting. 

“If nobody meaty shows up, I’m gonna starve...” 

[valiantcharge]

anglerfishnabe​:

It was just curiousity - he’d heard sounds nearby and wandered to the bloody scene.

Before this the most he’s seen is dead birds. No rat poison had been slipped in the anglerfishnabe yet which in results would mean that this was the first time Hyakunosuke had seen a dead body. 

He does freeze a little but no tear falls, no scream leaves him.  His heart does keeps skipping beats but the boy stays still. His fingers grasp the gun, far too heavy for him as he’s approached but he doesn’t lift it up. This other boy’s too close.

“ …..why did you do that? “

For even a young Azrael, the answer was easy. Though it was not something he understood in it’s entirety, it was instinct like any other function of survival. 

“I was hungry.” 

It was in everyone, right?  

“Don’t you get...hungry too? You have...one of those.” 

He points to the child’s rifle with a heavy finger. Maybe he should be more clear. The thing, the feeling. He had trouble telling them apart for such a long time. Even now, they mix and mingle.  

“Not, the...mouth hungry.” that finger points to his odd teeth, canines a bit large for a human being.Then slowly gestures to his chest, confused, “The other...--the other hungry.” now unsure, where this other hungry comes from, exactly. Instead of finding it, he puts a finger in his mouth, eyes half open. Just touching his teeth, and tasting the drying blood. 

[valiantcharge]

flynni​:

Everything in Flynn wants him to flee the scene of this crime to save face. Having his reputation tarnished off of one kid’s terrible excuse of a theft wasn’t worth the work he’d have to do to repair it. But before he dips and exits this sad scene, Flynn has a few words of wisdom to share.

He sits ontop of a car, having watched the entire thing in relative shock.

“Congratulations! I can’t tell if you’re the most avant garde or the worst thief I’ve ever seen! Holy–”

He approaches arms spread wide with a cocky grin. The young Azrael takes a few trotting steps to reach him and slams his foot down on the bumper of the car, tipping it considerably. If Eugene tips far enough with it, Azrael’s forehead would be close to his--if not practically headbutting him outright. 

“Avant garde! I’m setting the table, are you gonna do something about it, or are you a shitty decoration?” 

Large red eyes almost seem blinding in glow, filled with careless violence set free. 

[valiantcharge]

@anglerfishnabe

A teen drags a man behind him, three times his own size. The second he found an alleyway--lit with lights that hardly illuminated anything--people seemed to remember something he didn’t. Scornful faces, accusations of murder. (Would he have known, the people in the city remembered him as he was supposed to be. Much older, hair much longer, muscles much bulkier.) Pondering this, their shouts of a non-existent father. 

Eventually he drops the broken neck of the man, leaving the brutalized corpse behind him. Blood trailing lazily as he’s gotten his fill--for now. A distant look in his eyes as he sinks mentally into the feeling. 

Staring at the blood dripping off onto the ground, his feet shuffle until they meet another pair. The young Azrael had wandered far, now towering before this child. 

“Where’d you come from?” 

[valiantcharge]

@flynni

A cacophony of car alarms grows down the street, a lanky yet muscled mess of a teen rummaging through people’s cars quickly to find nothing of use. Incidentally, people don’t leave food in their cars often and nobody seems to be showing up to fight him about it, either. 

The noise is becoming way too irritating--he rips a door off by it’s handle and slams it into the roof. Dislodging it he tosses it across the street, causing yet another car to join in. 

It’s time to find someplace else to have fun and satiate the oncoming hunger. Or maybe he didn’t need to leave at all. 

“What are you staring at?!” Azrael has no problem shouting above all the racket, but his rough prepubescent voice isn’t exactly the nicest sound to add to it all. 

[valiantcharge]

@altiorasemper

Up and up and up...some building’s stairs, he wandered in--hiding behind a door the second he was spotted by someone in the lobby. Going up the stairs seemed like the best idea at the time. Not knowing where he was, but it wasn’t as if he ever really knew where he was before. 

This place was nothing like before...

He’s fallen down stairs, he daydreams with the rhythm of his steps. Oh, oh, what if he drops something from really really high up? What if he comes crashing down on someone, like mighty lighting. Thunder his feet and the crumbling of bones beneath. There’s another door. 

Azrael, much younger in the simulation’s chaos, still stands over the height of most kids his age. A strange dangling mess of muscle that looks like meat strips wrapped around twigs. This one’s scent...it’s a boy sitting with a book in his hands. 

“You smell weird.” a rough, unbalanced voice lurches behind him. Azrael dangling his head over the other’s. Red eyes glowing with interest. 

[valiantcharge]

;; This bitch never changes so I guess this is just baby event part 2--I’m not upset in the least, I could actually use something dumb like this because work has been hell 

Cap’d at 2 with castmates (and people who know Azrael well) exempt. 

Keep in mind you are signing up to interact with a very violent child with even less regard for other’s safety and zero concept of control--that collar is not in existence yet. And still...capable of the same bus lifting strength. Just the same I will ask mun permission for any bodily harm or fighting! 

[valiantcharge]

anglerfishnabe​:

Ogata gives a laugh.

“ You really are a piece of work… “

He’s repeating himself there but it doesn’t make it any less true. He cranes his neck further grin creeping up his face. 

“ Hm… Well  if you ask me… “ he says hand running up to Azrael’s chest.

“ The bigger the more difficult the prey is the better. I don’t really care about helpless fawns… “

A gunshot would have most people freeze on the spot like a deer in the headlights. An act that’d only help a sniper. There’s no satisfaction in doing what just anyone can do after all.

“ It’s my profession. It’s satisfying to land a great prey. “

Azrael helps himself to Ogata’s neck, never quite biting it, but coming close. He chuckles back. 

“We think the same, then. Don’t get me wrong. I want my prey to give me all they’ve got. Strip them down to their instincts and nothing will hold them back from their true strength. I need that. I crave it. I have a hunger that needs sated. I can’t live off of hors d'oeuvres or appetizers, I want the full course meal.” 

He shifts even closer, crotch up against Ogata’s thigh. Kissing under his jawline roughly, hands picking clothes over body for grip for now. He’s too excited, and he knows he could easily break something if he isn’t careful. Azrael looks Ogata dead in the eyes, red burning in the dullness of the other’s. His mouth wide with teeth, lips curled. 

“Before being thrown in here, I was close to hunting gods.” 

[valiantcharge]

anglerfishnabe​:

“ It’s just a question of teaching myself to learn to shoot with my left hand. “

He huffs, rather proudly.

“ I’m good so I’ll be able to do it eventually. “

It had its’ difficulties and of course it wasn’t enough to be just able to do it. You had to be able to do it constantly. But that said he refuses to wade on the frustration. He knows he’ll be able to do it eventually. 

“ It’s no fun just to find bunch of gold of course. “

“Of course not. Money can get you a lot of things...” 

Azrael slowly approaches, mouth close to Ogata’s face. A foot between legs, half lidded eyes. His hair falling forward over his shoulders. 

“But it isn’t blood, or sweat. The look in their eyes when they realize death is coming for them. When the confidence they had drains away like dripping juices off cooked meat.” growling, his hands start finding places to touch. Ogata’s determination to hone his skill even through loss of an eye. Azrael found it impressive. Any talk of a hunt made it easy for him to get excited. 

“Every one of them fall to their survival instincts, to fight with everything they’ve got--or run with their tails between their legs. Maybe they’ll even make a desperate offer. To spare their life--knowing it’s in your hands.” he’s almost drooling, rough sideburns on Ogata’s neck. 

“I don’t remember the faces and names of the people I’ve devoured. Do you want trophies? Or are you in it for the thrill?” 

[valiantcharge]

childhood

Whoever sent this maybe doesn’t know I have a small collection of drabbles and drawings about this, so numerous that I really should just wipe away any tie to the character and make it my own individual story. (Maybe you do! Maybe you’re interested! I’m very nervous to share.)

Part of Azrael’s appeal is the mystery behind what he is, exactly. Anything about his childhood or past I write about is entirely head canon. Something that makes sense to me; A feral child, with a sabotaged childhood in order to make a semi-containable force. If not to have an ace up Sector Seven’s sleeve in case of the worst, something to have that others don’t. 

Of course, controlling the damn bastard is flimsy and near-impossible. I have some re-reading to do, and usually go the way of Azrael not really remembering his childhood. Forgotten, shoved aside traumatic experiences. Emotions he doesn’t know how to deal with without violence and alcohol and food. 

As a closing note: There’s a lot empty space with this bastard in particular, and I dearly hope my characterizations make sense...? 

[valiantcharge]

☽ AESTHETICS: * COLORS EDITION

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust-filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water-soaked skin / seaside towns during off-season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways.

𝐑𝐄𝐃 wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets.

𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams.

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 marshy swamps / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grotto / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theatre productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theatres / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces.

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art.

tagged by: @jaegerbombed​ tagging: whoever wants to do it, go for it...!!

[archaeologian-blog]

send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on

I might write anything from a paragraph to a whopping essay, but send me something you’ve noticed about my characterisation or just something you want to know about my muse and I will write what I can!

[valiantcharge]

jaegerbombed​:

                 He doesn’t miss the bold and intent stare when he steps into the bar. Plenty of hollows and arrancar alike had given him the same look; hungry, fixated on the want for battle, on the urge to hunt. Not unlike something beastly. After all, it takes one to know one. The jaguar stares back for just a moment, interested. Some may be deterred by the stranger in the deep azure mane, but rather than ignore what is more or less an invitation, he meanders across the room to join him. Casually glancing at the man who piques his interest, he isn’t subtle about sizing him up. Smells like a beast, too. He looks human, but is he really? It’s difficult to tell anymore when this world isn’t just some variation of weak or powerful spirits with some spiritually strong humans. 

                 Grimmjow isn’t expecting to be invited to drink with the man, but he doesn’t pass up the smell of what has become his favorite drink. It’s strong and the taste is satisfyingly sharp. 

                 “Straight up is fine.” He takes the glass after the man pours it from the bottle, sipping the amber liquid. “You look like you’re waiting for something, or you want something more than just a drinking partner.” He comments, meeting a hungry gaze as a smirk begins to tug at the corner of his mouth. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

A dog in man’s skin, adorned with tattoos across his chest, back, and arms. Those sensitive to magics may just sense they aren’t just ink--perhaps not ink at all. Azrael inhaled deep. He himself could be described as the failure to try and domesticate one’s feral instincts down to nothing. The bright blue hair, missing abdomen, and teeth on the other would give Azrael a sense of magic. Something beyond humanity. Nothing familiar. 

If it wasn’t in the form it was as he saw it, what would it be?  

“A good aperitif can make the difference in a meal. Whiskey is a bit unconventional in that sense. But it suits you just fine.” he pours it into the glass, the bottle making a heavy thunk when he puts it back down. 

A numb stare into his own reflection. Would it even be worth it...? He wants to feel something. Taste something. He can’t feast here with hardly any teeth. He wants to try anyways. Always, always, always, always, always. 

“Hard to hide when you’re starved. If you can’t hear my stomach growling, I can. And it needs to be quiet already.” 

Azrael stands up, swallowing the rest of his whiskey and slamming it on the counter. Cracking his joints, stretching. Gaze full on his prey. 

“Show me that my hunch is right. I want a taste of you.” 

[valiantcharge]

anglerfishnabe​: 

“ Haha. Didn’t take you for type to care. Should I pet your head or something?“ he says with a laugh.

“ I was barely conscious. It’s fast acting poison so if you don’t get it out it’ll kill you… Usually anyway. “

Would this guy succumb to poison? He hasn’t got a clue. Losing an eye would probably not even hinder him, maybe cause him collide with walls more but that’s it. 

“ Mm. It’s a bit of a long story really… “

He drifts away for a bit. Thinking about it after spending so long here… Memories as vivid as they are won’t just fade, even now all that gets tugs his lips upwards.

“ But short version would be ‘treasure hunting’. The place is called Japan. It’s…. ..well the time is different. So there are no things like that. Or that. “

He’s pointing from left to right at appliances like toaster, microwave… 

“ Most I do though… Is just shooting people. “

“Can’t be so easy to shoot game missing an eye. You overcame a limitation to do so; Wasn’t my place to take what you earned. Not like I’m trying to fight you.” 

Poison...something to ponder about. Surely he’d been exposed to something somewhere down the line. He never really pays attention to things like that. One might assume he would be, if they knew the things he could withstand. 

He stands up and leans on the counter instead, pushing his hair over his shoulders. 

“Treasure? That’s the kind of thing you like? Or is it the hunt itself?” 

[valiantcharge]

anglerfishnabe‌:

“ It’s not really mine… “

Something is telling him that even if it was locked Azrael might break it open somehow. Ogata’s not happy about the birds, it takes a lot more effort to get them than it used to but what is he supposed to do when they’re already gone.

“ Can’t you go wrestle a bear for dinner or something? “ he mumbles, “that’s about week worth of my dinner. “ 

Hearing a hiss at the root of his feet Ogata looks down and picks up Bastard who arrived to protest as well.

“ Poison arrow. It was gouged out. “

“ Went back where I came from for a bit… Which I’m guessing happened to you too. “ 

“Hrm. That so? Guess I’m hunting bears today. You managed to make me feel bad.” 

Azrael continues to tease the cat, until claws start getting caught in his long hair. Some squirming and (surprisingly) cautious fiddling later the cat is free and running off. 

“Gouged out, huh?” Azrael smirks, sitting on the floor lazily. “That’s a fun one. I was sent back and forth. Something of a migraine...” 

“I don’t recall us ever talking about what our original places are like. What do you get to do back there? How different is it from this place?” perhaps asked out of boredom more than curiosity; but Azrael does like hearing war stories.