⋆ — ❝ S C A R. ✧˖ ˚「 STORAGE ; V.III. 」

[mochaccino]

[align=center][div style="width: 530px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: .3px; line-height: 1.3; padding: 4px;"]i love that angel concept and MUDCHIC...... perfection

[Devilad]

[align=center][div style="width: 455px; text-align: justify; font-family: nyala; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 1.1; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #000"]I’m slowly getting into Good Omens, and I’m just :eyes: at making Angel / Demon / etc characters, even though I might just apply the aspects of them into the current incarnations of [nameless] and [redacted] because I’m so lazy to come up with a solid concept for a new character and all ahdhsjd

But !!!! Thank you so much, Mochi!!!! <3333

We stan Mudchic!!! :clap: :clap: :clap:

[Devilad]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: nyala; font-size: 9.2pt; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]”Tension bleeds into air and land, between the lost and damned, as Volatile approaches with a small piece of Hell held between his teeth for Caustic. Bruised fist meets God's warm gift, and words fall hard like falling stars from snapping jaw of inhumanity. At the bickering between the fists and claws, the lover only smiles while the loner releases a small laugh wheeze, both in amusement, finding themselves in their positions a while ago: all barks / all bites, bickering like an old couple. Well, look at them now with their hands held so close and their souls pressed against each other too close. They are still young, and free, and, in a way, alive. Death conquers all, but when they are found in buttercups and fairy lights and sunshines, their love will never die.”

[Devilad]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: nyala; font-size: 9.2pt; line-height: 12px; color: #000"][spoiler=Childish Beasts in TNW verse]Figures with human worn faces follow after a voice. A precious piece crafted of brimstones and hellfires, it knocks on every doors and walls; unholy hotel trembles. Behind words, familiarity is found, gently brushing against memories that were taken in moments like this—when the lord would smile upon their followers with their teeth too soft / too sharp, eyes gleaming out of love / hatred, fingers twitching from nervousness / angriness; demeanor deformed all in the end.

Tender hand holding onto greedy hand, they surrounds themselves with the presences of blessed / cursed before they settle by staircase’s side. Though, the loner will only ignore and cross its arms at the group’s conditions, the lover will listen and hope for the best in the group’s future. Los Santos, with a name stained in red and purple / blood and bruises, was deemed a small group, yet, throughout the months, it continues to grow with roses; a garden it becomes that is made out of pretty eyes / edged teeth.

Through silence from the Druglord himself, warm soul leans closer to cold soul, their lovely fingers tucking the other’s shirt. When hazel eyes meet brown eyes, the lover speaks of honey and milk, “Got anything in mind for the Big Bad Bane to talk about, bud?” To them, between all of the glorious gold stained lines, there is only content. Excitement burns through celestial veins over what Los Santos has to offer, especially during this time of the group’s growth.

A shake of head the loner gives in response; a silent no. While it holds little care towards Los Santos in general, as long as it provides comfort and joy to the lover, it can tolerate it in a way that the lover can appreciate of. It begins to tap, tap, tap on floor, constant motion leaks impatience, crawling underneath its fidgety presence. Go, go, go. A whine pushes through dried throat and its chin fall onto the curls, seeking softness of the other.

The lover giggles at its small suffering and shakes their head, youthful eyes shining in childlike amusement. Always, is it on a rush, never really knowing how to breathe a little more softly. “Hey, relax, we have all of the time in the world,” they assures, giving the loner’s hand a kiss; a silent promise.

They glances back to Wolfsbane and smiles, giving him a thumps up. A man with silver bones and starlight heart. Certainly, do the lover believe he can make stars above burn brighter for him. For his people. “Gotcha, my dude!,” they says directly to the Druglord, their voice a bit more louder, filled with great energy.

At that, the lover and the loner leaves the main lobby to their room—a piece of what they can call a home / shelter.

——————

Behind the ever familiar call, heavencloud and hellfire appears. They head towards a abandoned car nearby and climb over to sit upon its roof, with a heart that beats of curiosity / disinterest, with eyes that shines of eagerness / boredom. They watch as the area is gradually filled with outstanding colours, from ivory, to sanguine, to gold; adorned with bared teeth, unsheathed claws, and widened eyes.

They finally look over to the Druglord who wishes everyone to introduce themselves to the willing ears and eager minds. While such concept of tearing one’s skin a bit to the glazed eyes at first isn’t something the loner can handle well, the lover finds only ease in it. Even when they know, with tender fingers and soft organs, they can bleed too easily by those who seeks more than flesh and bones, they will let them have their blood like it is water; it is what makes them brave in the end.

In the middle of Wolfsbane’s introduction, when they find his gaze landing on theirs, the loner acknowledges him with at least a brief nod, as the lover gives him a playful wink. The look they received prompts them to recall the creation of Los Santos: there was wonder / suspicious, there was willingness / cautiousness; open heart / clenched fists, big smiles / narrowed eyes. Coming down to this very moment, pride in the Druglord’s ongoing success with his group sings in the lover’s soul. Nothing comes from the loner but a twitch of its dried lips, though, for someone whose bones are made of iron, that has to mean something.

Once Wolfbanes along with Abd al-Malik and Honey have finished their own introductions, the lover seeing no one else is willing to go next, they decides to take the lead from there. “I don't have a name—I don’t find myself sticking with names anyway,” they starts, voice filled with honey and stars—sweet and bright, “This guy beside me claimed to have a name, but because it’s an edgy type of person, it doesn’t like to give its name to others. So, feel free to call us whatever, we’re cool with any—well,” they glances over to the loner with a teasing smirk, “It’ll eventually get used to some certain nicknames in one way or another.” That earns a roll of eyes from the loner.

“We’re two of Big Bad Bane’s said old friends, so, we’ve been pretty much here since the beginning,” the lover continues, giving Wolfsbane a wave. “The edgy guy and I are great with combat and healing, especially since I have to deal with its bullshit, so I gotta teach it a lesson sometimes or handle its wounds from its stup—” Their sentence cuts off with a surprised squeak when the loner jabs them in their ribs. They smack its hand away with a, “Anyway, I’m definitely good at scavenging whiles the other’s so with hunting.” They quickly sticks a tongue out to the loner before they adds, “Oh, we’re also into arts and crafts, so just a note, if you need some art supplies for therapeutic reasons or such, please don’t hesitate to come to us.”

Their eyes shine brighter at the final part of the outline, almost is the lover bouncing in their seat. “I don’t know what its goal is, but I know for mine is bringing joy and comfort to everyone so they can feel like they can be their most selves without much judgement and such.” To conclude the introduction, the lover gives up a double finger guns at everyone, smiling as always, before they falls into the loner’s embrace and listen once more.

——————

As Time fondly brushes against their soft / rough skin, the couple walks over to where the call for volunteers was made, with the lover waving towards Wolfbanes and Abd al-Malik in greeting / the loner staring at the ground in...something. Duality at its finest. “We’ll just take the task, Bane!,” chirps the lover. “You know the lad over here.” A poke to the sore hips. ”I don’t think it’ll be able to control itself when it wants to scare people like it’s Halloween already!”

Through the laughter created from lovely lungs, the loner hisses at them, but its narrowed eyes does not match the irritation it expelled of when affection gleams in them. A pair of lights in the dark, faint, but existing nevertheless. To it, everyone but the lover wears a blurry face. All eyes white, only there are teeth, teeth, teeth. Kill, kill, kill. If it can not find itself willing to drop its knees to anyone of Los Santos, why bother with those who weeps and bleeds just as easily as those here that is dearly dubbed Hell?

Of course, of course, the lover understands its paranoia. Though, they loves and loves and loves, they also come to an awareness that this world bears the mouth of Death: teeth akin to trees, diseases akin to creatures, tongue akin to lands. Ever are they roaming across the gaping jaws, dressed in tender flesh and rich organs for Death to feed upon with empty eyes and decayed heart. They only hopes for love in return, but they understands. Compassion forms between eyelashes for the loner as they watches it glance away from them. Lights out.

The lover tenderly slips the other’s fingers with their own, locking reassurance between warmth and cold. It shakes, but they both do not flinch, unperturbed. The lover faces back to Wolfsbane with a small smile, nodding as they accepts whatever he will have in mind for them. Anything that can bring some sort of comfort to the loner.
[/spoiler]

[shizuknya]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; text-align: justify; width: 450px; font-size: 7.3pt; color: #383737; line-height: 125%; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: .8px;"]im late oop

[Devilad]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: nyala; font-size: 9.2pt; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]You’re all good, Paps, love ya! <33

[Devilad]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: nyala; font-size: 9.2pt; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]IT’S ALRIGHT, BUT THANK YOU! MUDCHIC LOVES YOU TOO!! <333

[Devilad]

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[glow=#024fa0,2,300][b]* AENGEL !

[align=center]

[glow=Red,2,300][b]* DAEMON !

[mochaccino]

[div style="width: 530px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: .3px; line-height: 1.3; padding: 4px;"]i've been meaning to attack this thread with this image for the last few days and i've continued to forget so hERE JUST TAKE IT NOW bc ppl need to see this

[align=center]

[Devilad]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: nyala; font-size: 9.2pt; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]mOCHA THIS IS BULLYING I’M SCREECHING
I ACTUALLY FORGOT I DID THAT, BUT WHY YA GOTTA PLAY ME DIRTY LIKE SHDHDHD