Moose Muses

Roleplaying is one of my many hobbies and due to a recent return, it's very far down on my list. I will be slow.

I'm located in Sweden, 35+ of age.

I used to RP a lot in the witcher fandom; known as causeitsmyboat.

If you use AI for anything, I won't interact.

This blog is mainly for memes and prompts for my own writing, but it is open for RP interactions too. I just don't expect much of that.

Most of my muses have multiple fandoms I can write in. If not, I can usually easily make one up for them.

I tend to adapt my formatting to who I write with. I'm fine with icons, no icons, small text or regular text.

In many cases, I have my own headcanons about lore and such.

As for any Star Wars RPers out there, I have _very_ strong opinions about the canon version of TBB. Please look at my disclaimer for more info. I'm not likely to RP with any characters from TBB unless we're of the same opinion.

The usual stuff. Don't be rude, please reblog memes from the source, don't god mod.

Feel free to send in asks/prompts etc for characters/my solo ships! I will return the favour where it's applicable! I think supporting each others solo writing is important too.

We're all busy with life, sometimes threads are dropped and things are missed. Reminders are welcome.

Don't reblog threads/things you're not involved in. You will be blocked fast. Comments are a different thing and appreciated.

When RPing with Hide in Nioh, keep in mind he can't talk much. Sign and body language are his main communication tools.

I am extremely unlikely to ship with anyone these days.

Any shipping memes I reblog will be for my solo ships only, please respect this (Unless we actually ship)

Don't force ship. Most of my muses are involved with my own characters (or canons) so it'll just get really awkward.

I tag anything particular like gore //, blood //, etc.

I don't write NSFW.

   “How are you feeling?” she asked now, almost sternly, looking him over once. He seemed normal to her, but it was still strange to see the half yokai standing before her again. Mumyo had seen him die before but never for this long… it was undoubtedly as strange to her as it was to him too, considering his visible shock the other day. The Shiftling shrugged; he felt mostly fine, but also off somehow. Grasping at his own shoulder, he rolled it with emphasis, trying to show that he felt stiff at least. He knew that feeling well.

   “I figured as much,” the woman gave a quick nod. “I think we should practise some, before you join us in the fights again. Just in case. Don’t want you disappearing on us for another six years, you know.” She moved towards him, disrupting the watery pearls on the grass around them. They were both hardened warriors and both looked up at the sudden sound of wings flapping in the air around them.

   Shigehide was much faster than them though; by the time they had even tried locating him in the air, the man had already landed among them. The wings shrunk back into his body, as Yatagarasu reformed behind Shigehide’s shoulder. The bird flew past Hide before disappearing. The former Saika stood there, with his hand on the hilt of his sword, studying the both of them under his greying fringe. 

   “Practising fighting, hm?” he asked, having overheard them with ease. “I think I should take over, Mumyo. You both use switchglaives… too easy for you to see each other’s tells. There’s no challenge in that. You want to stretch your wings, Hide? Try them with me.”

   Hide suddenly looked somewhat affronted before gesturing for Mumyo; it was her idea to train after all, not his. The Shiftling pulled back his hand, squinting lightly at her now as he caught her smirk. She rarely did that. That Shigehide was smirking was nothing new. An infuriating smirk that Hide was well accustomed to by now, even if he’d been apparently dead for six years. He tucked his chin closer to his throat, rolling his shoulder once again before pressing his knuckles into his palm. He wasn’t one to deny someone a fight. Sparring with Shigehide was always a pleasure too.

   “Very well, have fun boys,” Mumyo sighed, as she started to step away. “But if I come back to seeing you’ve hurt yourselves; I’ll make your cuts seem like child’s play, got it?” Hide gave her a wary look, he was glad some things never changed actually. Mumyo certainly hadn’t and Shigehide gave her an equally amused look as she walked off. He glanced back to Hide without moving his head before smiling more broadly now, lowering it.

   “Well, then. Let’s not tell her we’re using sharp weapons, shall we?” he suggested, as he unsheathed the sword in his belt. That was what elixirs were for and besides; only proper weapons allowed for proper sparring. One didn’t concentrate unless the actual threat of a sharp blade lingered in the air.

   Hide made a discrete face; swordsmanship wasn’t as close to him as the switchglaive was and Shigehide knew it. Hell, he’d been the one who had taught Hide most of the things he knew. Which meant that the rifleman was already unfairly a step ahead. The Shiftling slowly moved one of his feet further back in the grass. Then he lifted an eyebrow, looking at Shigehide's shoulders. He brought the back of his hand in the palm of the other, hooking his thumbs together to mimic a pair of wings with his hands.

   “Not even a day back and you’re already looking for trouble,” the other shook his head. Hide shook his own head quickly; that wasn’t what he had meant, he’d been inquiring. And he knew Shigehide was aware of that but the man purposefully took his question as a challenge. Hide pressed his teeth together when he felt the influence that Yatagarasu brought over Shigehide; the visible twitch of brief discomfort was always the physical sign of it in the man. As a Shiftling, Hide simply felt it.

   It was always a sight to see the red wings spring up from Shigehide’s back, as they barely moved after the initial flap, serving as balance now that he was on the ground. Shigehide drew his sword, but allowed the rifle to be sheathed over his back, for now. Parting his lips in a lopsided smirk, he held his hands close to his face, the tip of the sword aimed towards Hide.

   The Shiftling nodded once; already prepared to parry the blow that the former Saika threw on him. The strength was enough to force him to take a step backwards; weakened from his resurrection. While he wasn’t necessarily stronger than all humans, he usually wasn’t this weak. That or Shigehide had become stronger the last few years. He had been wielding the dagger after all. Hide shoved him backwards again; pressing his full strength into the blade in doing so, his eyes flaring into a bright blue.

   The smirk on Shigehide’s face turned into a small grin now, as he moved again, darting to the side before slashing the sword towards Hide’s side, forcing the Shiftling to move again. He parried the blow, sliding the sword along the base of the blade until sparks flew and Shigehide had no choice but to jump back, using his wings to make the landing as effortless as possible.

   “Ah, you’ve not forgotten everything then,” he commented as Hide turned towards him; encouraged by the grin on his opponent’s face. Taking a step backwards, he winked; a gesture only two people had ever seen. Then he dug his hand into one of his pouches hanging from his belt. Bringing up his palm, there were now three fiery feathers gently drifting on it, before he blew on them. Shigehide’s eyes widened for a moment, as the feathers formed into three fireballs, heading straight towards him. The man took to the air with a few beats of his wings; while the fireballs did aim for their target for a while, they were slow and he easily dodged them enough to let them drift harmlessly up into the sky instead.

   “Swapping to magic too? Tsk.” The rifle was unsheathed from his back, as he hovered in the sky, a sword and the rifle in each hand. Hide’s brow furrowed as the very hints of a smirk appeared on his face. Shigehide aimed a shot in his direction, which he parried with ease, before he darted forward through the grass. If this was to test Hide’s strength, he wanted Shigehide at his best too and the Shiftling felt his hands tense up, as he focused on the amrita in his body. The skin began to crack over his palms; revealing a golden glow before the demonic appearance flared over him in the blink of an eye.

   The sword had been sheathed in the process and the two extra blades he normally wore weren’t drawn either. Instead he lunged upwards, grabbing onto Shigehide’s foot. The man let out a yelp in surprise; before he was thrown back into the grass, rolling backwards as Hide let go of his foot mid fall. Not stopping his beat, Hide charged after him; side stepping another bullet coming his way; the second one did hit him in the chest but it didn’t matter in this form.

   Shigehide got up on his feet, pushing forward with his wings, sidestepping Hide in turn as the Shiftling came around, trying to strike him across his back. The sword cut into Hide’s side and he hissed, as the scales there were cut open; revealing more of the gold within. Drawing the two demonic daggers this time, he slashed them after the former Saika. As fun as this was, they were still using real weapons.

   Hide was in fact putting a lot more control into his motions than one might think… something Shigehide noticed and took advantage of. One of the daggers came uncomfortably close to his arm and he turned sharply; smacking Hide straight in the face with one of the wings.

   It took energy to maintain his yokai form after all, and he was still weak. Weaker than he’d like to admit. The daggers disappeared into thin air where they were usually summoned from, at the blow from the wing. Shaking his head to clear it, he saw Shigehide take to the air again. Hide knew what was coming, as the man kicked him in the chest with both feet. It shoved the wind right out of him and him standing still was enough for Shigehide to swoop around him, locking his ankles under Hide’s arms.

   The vault backwards in the air sent Hide flying to the ground on his front, wheezing for a moment before he started to turn over to his back. The demonic presence faded as he did so, revealing his human self just as he managed to support himself on his elbows. Then he felt the other man’s knee against his chest. Stopping him from getting up, while the base of Shigehide’s blade came to rest against Hide’s throat. The Shiftling pushed his head away from the blade by instinct, as the rifleman gave a small grin of victory; the red wings stretched out behind his shoulders.

   “Not sure if you were just showing off or not, a mistake in any case,” Shigehide remarked, keeping his balance through his wings, before pressing the blade even closer to his throat; forcing the man to drop his head back into the grass. Shigehide followed suit, leaning forward to keep his head above Hide’s, staring into blue eyes he’d never thought he’d see again. Then he pulled the sword away, instead pressing it into the ground near Hide’s shoulder, resting a hand on its pommel, the other arm coming to rest over his knee.

   “We’ll try again tomorrow,” he suggested now, before he pushed himself up again, beating powerfully once with the wings to help him up. Sheathing the sword with purpose, he extended his hand for Hide to take if he wanted help up. Unperturbed by the loss, Hide accepted it, coming up on his feet a little unsteadily. His heart was pounding from the fight, but it wasn’t just the fight either.

   Something had changed between them; he’d felt it ever since he came back but he couldn’t put his finger on what. As he staggered, he was surprised to feel Shigehide’s hand fly out to steady him with a touch to his shoulder. The smirk disappeared from the man’s face, real concern taking its place, as he held on firmly.

   His hand was warm against his skin, Hide realised now, and he could swear he saw something deeper in the other’s eyes. Something he’d only glimpsed shortly before his death. Hide lowered his head with a faint sigh escaping him. He was tired. Especially now. In the corner of his eyes, he saw the wings fade from Shigehide’s body, saw him move before him without releasing his shoulder.

   “Coming back from death took more of a toll out of you than you thought, huh?” Hide gave Shigehide’s question a short nod, before rubbing his face with his hand. If just shapeshifting took this much strength out of him… that wasn’t a good sign.

   “You need rest. Do you even sleep right now?” Shigehide couldn’t recall having seen Hide sleep at all since his return. Unbeknownst to him, his thumb was absently stroking Hide’s shoulder where he was holding him steady. Hide thought the gesture was endearing and relaxing actually and didn’t make a show of it. Instead he gave a faint shrug, before holding up three fingers. Shigehide scoffed.

   “That’s not sleep.” Hide gave him a tired look, his shoulders slouching faintly. He gave a slow blink to the ground. Dying for real had brought out many things in him; including a restlessness that his body normally didn’t possess. Perhaps it was a physical reaction to having come back. Maybe it was finding out about everything that had happened… or the damn six years that had passed.

   Standing up straight again, he ran his finger across his throat, before tapping two fingers against his chest. Another sigh. Shigehide watched intently, his brow furrowing in now poorly contained concern. There were a lot of ways to read that… it’d always been easy for him to read Hide but it’d been six years. Admittingly, he had lost some of his touch.

   Hide could see him struggling to understand and the Shiftling smiled softly. He reached up to put his hand over Shigehide’s which was still on his shoulder. Hide gave it a squeeze before dropping his again, gesturing for them to head back to the camp. His moving about more or less forced Shigehide’s hand to be pulled back and he pressed his lips together, casting his eyes upwards for a moment to check on the trees around them. Despite Hide’s attempts at ensuring any concerns, the former Saika still felt something was amiss.

   Falling in step next to the Shiftling, Shigehide’s smirk returned. He wasn’t that easily fooled and wasn’t about to budge from his friend’s side when it was clear he needed something. He had a hunch it was company really… dying and coming back had to bring a number on anyone’s head.

   The witcher glanced at the nearby buildings; hoping people had the sense to stay inside during this. It was unfortunate that he had tracked her to a city. Even more unfortunate that she had discovered him and taken matters into her own hands. How awkward, the hunter turned prey. Lambert swirled the sword once, taking it into one hand now, as his other extended out from his side. Forming his fingers until the purple glow manifested on the cobblestones around him.

   She cloaked, as expected; darting forward. The rain, while cumbersome, came with one advantage. It was easier to see where she was, since the rain revealed her cloaked figure. His eyes fell to her feet, seeing where they splashed against the ground and he grinned viciously, side stepping past her first attack, sword held close to his body as he did so; edge aimed against her. The vampire shrieked when her claws and fingers fell against the oil coated silver, Yrden destroyed her cloak as she staggered out from the circle. Hunched over, she watched the blood on her fingers, lips curling in rage, before she had no choice but to jump backwards as the witcher hadn’t paused in his attack.

   Lambert missed this time but he used the momentum to turn and run along her side, moving quickly as the sword swung upwards this time, towards her shoulder. At the last moment, he feinted, turning direction and her side step launched her straight into the blade. Lambert twisted the blade as he saw it impale her side, working fast to try and take her out before she’d actually get pissed off. Her hand flew up though, backhanding him with such force that he fell to the ground; taking the sword with him.

   “Fuck,” he hissed, flexing his jaw with a crack, while staggering back up on his feet. She lunged towards him, forcing him to dodge backwards; he felt her claws nick his forearm, before he twisted the sword back, hitting her chin with the pommel of the sword instead. The bruxa flailed backwards, sprawling as she screamed in fury, before getting up on all fours, staring him out. His upper lip curled unpleasantly, before he charged forward; throwing Quen on himself as he did so.

   He practically threw himself on top of her when she stood again, trusting the shield to stop her first attack and that he’d be able to overpower her before a second attack got him. One foot landed on her arm, pinning her down; her other hand swiped at the shield furiously, screeching as his sword threatened to impale her chest this time. He felt her chest heave suddenly, the high-pitched sound forming inside of her lungs and his eyes widened in alarm, before he threw himself to the side instead. Her shriek attack directly missed him, but the sound from it left his ears ringing, as he gritted his teeth in the pain of it; making the throbbing pain in his jaw even worse.

   She was suddenly over him this time; launching up on his shoulders and back; wrapping her legs around his chest. Her wet hair covered his sight suddenly, the way she had flung over him and he felt her foul breath over his neck.

   “Fine, drink it then,” he growled, reaching back to grab at her arm; still trying to pull her off of him. He’d prefer if she didn’t, after all, but when he felt her sink her teeth into his neck, he realised the choice had been made for him.

   A painful noise escaped him when she basically tore out a chunk of flesh from his throat in her effort; his fingers drew blood from her skin as he tugged harder at her arm; struggling for his life now. She had seemed content at first, until she realised his blood wasn’t fit to be anywhere near her throat. The vampire started to choke; spitting out blood by his shoulder suddenly. Maybe she understood what he had done; because she gathered enough strength to jump off of his back, before she wildly raked her claws down his entire back, almost as if taking satisfaction from the slow blow.

   This time he couldn’t hold back the loud cry of pain; as he felt even the front of his ribcage vibrate as the claws cut into the bone. The gazes were deep; blood oozed out within moments, especially when he forced himself to move despite them. It was now or never, or he’d just become another forgotten medallion in passing; lost in some obscure city.

   She was still staggering; coughing up the poison that was his blood and Lambert strode up to her, almost dragging the sword behind him. Pale eyes turned to face him before he swung the sword in a wide arc across her shoulders. His chest heaved as he watched her head slowly slide off her shoulders; not pulling back the sword until her body crumbled to the ground as well.

   “Fucking bitch,” he snarled, attempting to sheathe the sword when he realised, he couldn’t even bend his shoulder that far back. Let alone that the sheath itself had been eviscerated by her claws; the steel sword only clung to the sword harness by a thread. He’d have hoped she had hit the sword instead of his back, but she had somehow managed to slide past it.

   Lambert was downing a Swallow already before he picked up her head; attaching it to the hook by his belt, purely by habit. Everything right now was out of habit; he had nothing to go on but instincts honed over decades. He wasn’t out of the woods yet and he knew it; the wound on his back was lethal and the rain hardly helped in cleaning it. Looking up to the sky, he closed his eyes, pressing his teeth together again in pain, before letting out a sharp gasp between them. He was in a city. There had to be healers.

   A few doors had opened in the houses along the street now, curious citizens who possibly had seen the fight through the windows. Wide eyes, hushed whispers, mothers clutching their children; as they stood in the doorways, the light of fire behind them looking incredibly tempting right now.

   He killed it single handedly. It wasn’t admiration he heard in their supposed whispers. Freak. Lambert looked away, he knew there’d be no help from people like that. If we’re lucky he’ll bleed to death, leave us be. His gaze fell down the street, spotting the sign hanging outside one of the buildings there.

   The sign was that of a healer and he made his way there, carrying the silver sword in his hand still. He heard the doors close behind him, felt their eyes in his back from the windows. The cold rain was starting to seep into his bones; not making the burning sensation on his back any better. He was tired, as he walked up to the door with the sign and knocked on it. Lambert heard someone shuffle from within, someone reluctant to open it. He suddenly slammed his fist into the door; he had no fucking patience for their stupidity when his life was on the line.

   “Open the fucking door or I’ll break it down, it’s your fucking choice,” he roared close to the surface of the door. Amber eyes glared at the shorter, older man who opened the door suddenly; glaring back at him.

   “Ugly and rude,” the man claimed instantly. Lambert’s irises rolled to the heavens for a moment in exasperation. Then he turned slightly, showing the wounds on his back.

   “Too stubborn to just roll over, I take it,” the healer grumbled. “Can you pay?”

   “Yes.” With that Lambert staggered inside, ignoring the protests about the muddy boots. Or having a mutant under his roof. What would the others say?

   “I ain’t doin’ nothin’ until I see the coin,” the healer insisted. “I’ll take 60.”

   “60?!” Lambert spat; that was two whole fucking contracts. The older man smiled cruelly.

   “You’re dyin’. Ain’t got a choice. Pay up or you can walk out.” The wolf growled, bristling to the point where the hand the healer held out started to tremble. But he was beginning to feel weak; the pain was starting to become too much, even if sheer stubbornness stopped him from outright showing it. If looks could have killed, the healer’d be nothing but a smear on the wall, but Lambert handed him two pouches with thirty gold in them each.

   The human hurried to fetch the things needed while Lambert undressed his torso; one glance told him that it wasn’t the finest tools he produced but he was too tired to argue; gritting his teeth with a hiss as the man went to work. A crude needle piercing through skin with unkind hands; it was something he’d gotten used to. Healers who’d rather not use their valuable reagents on mutants, and if they did, it was overpriced. Mostly because they knew that the wounds a witcher sustained were usually mortal.

   He knew the bastard decided to not use any type of soothing balms either, as he poured alcohol over the wound with no warning; tugging at raw skin as he saw fit; making noises of disgust from his mouth as he worked. Lambert stared dead ahead into the wall, as the healer wrapped up his chest and back.

   “Now, get out of here. And take your fucking bad luck with you,” the older man barked sharply, already washing off his hands. The wolf collected his things, putting the bloodied armour back on, winching as it scraped against the wounds under the bandages. Not bothering with buttoning anything, he threw the remains of the sword harness over his shoulder, letting the steel sword rest against it. The silver was held in his hand again, as he left the building; hearing the healer slam shut the door behind him.

   The pain was worse now, but at least he’d not bleed to death with the stitches on. There was no way that wasn’t going to scar though, with the way they had been stitched; he hadn’t dared to look but he knew it’d be crooked and bumpy.

   He tried to brush his hair away from his eyes, shaking it next to get rid of the damn water everywhere. The heavens seemed determined to drown the lands below and he paused under a roof from one of the sheds, hugging himself with a frustrated noise, trying to dispel some of the cold from his body.

   Leaning his shoulder against the wall, he realised he had to do something about the wound in his neck too. Frankly he had no strength to bother right now, as he slipped to the ground, letting the sword lean against the wall instead. He pressed his heel against an uneven cobblestone on the road, sighing to himself. Kicking harder at it until it became loose entirely. He loathed the waiting, it always brought back the shitty memories. Especially outside in the rain. It reminded him of his childhood; locked outside, not daring to scream because if his mother found out; she’d have let him in and faced the wrath of the monster who had shared their house.