if you've managed to find this blog -- congrats! this is nix's multimuse blog! with an emphasis on chillness and fun -- don't expect fast replies here!
[ click here for roster! ]
gearrscéalta - scéal ficsin scríofa nach bhfuil ach líon beag leathanach ann
this is a sideblog to iobartach
The purpose is, plain and simple — to entertain you!
links; playlist -- memes -- starter calls
rules under the cut!
this venture is for FUN ! i'm not looking for trouble, or to get embroiled in any kind of drama
seriously, have you seen the roster? it's a menagerie of oddities, with plenty of potential for funny, random and just straight up different interactions!
most muses listed will be featured on this blog. any muse with a stated sideblog, i will reply to asks & starters from said blog! sometimes i just prefer to keep specific muses to their own blogs!
i value plots over shipping, always. and will be very selective when it comes to shipping, in general.
and of course, this is a sideblog, meaning that i can only follow back from iobartach !
will also be a 'when i feel like writing on it' kind of blog, lol. i'm not going to rush into anything, so feel free to take your time replying, too!
also, i'm gonna be lazy w/ icons! sometimes i'll use the same ones, until i build up my icon folders, so sorry in advance!
and in that vein, yes, sometimes you'll see me reply to comments as gearrscealta... and then also as iobartach.... no, it isn't because i keep forgetting to switch that's a lie 😶🌫️
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i've been debating bringing this oc to tumblr 🥹she'll need a biography overall, and i've also been thinking of changing her name so yeah, surprise, i had one more oc to break out 🤣 she somehow turned into a bleach / jjk kind of oc, that i... definitely need to revisit!
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@ma1nmenu // continued from; stubborn as a mule! 🫏💨
In some ways, part of her was tempted to listen. If he felt adamant about running himself ragged, Elizabeth wasn't going to stop him, nor hold it over him that she had warned him. She'd seen it happen with her brothers, in times when common sense felt more like a suggestion than something to heed. In this case, she opted to concede, shutting her eyes with a tsk that pursed her rosy-red lips.
"I could make you stay put, you know. Be glad that I used my words instead." Mounting her own sharp retort, it's a hollow threat in reality. What little she knows about Marc has seen her keep psychic knife sheathed for the time being, declining to skim the surface of the man's noisy thoughts without requesting permission first.
"But, since you're clearly determined to persist with this, can I at least get you a glass of water? Maybe a bite to eat?"
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He was still. His body crumpled and broken. Blood ran down his lips half beaten. Hard. His eyes wandered the wasteland for any sign of life till he looked at a figure in the distance. His helmet was just barely hanging onto his head as he struggled to get to his feet. Blood dripping onto the dirt as he groaned loudly. Gripping his side.
His armor was dented inwards. Choking his body as he moved to get a better looknat the figure. At first he thought it was Logan. The fool. But tye closer he got the more he realized it wasn't him. No. It was someone else. Someone who dressed very simular to the angry Wolverine. Interesting in the young man's eyes as his eyes narrowed under his helmet.
"You aren't Logan.." he speaks clearly. The distance between them decent enough to give Stryfe the upper hand if the other happened to attempt an attack. His wounded body shifting to something more comfortable as he tried to determine who he was without reading his mind. It would result in immediate hostility no doubt. But couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Are you his son?" A complete guess on his part. His head tilting as he spat a wad of blood mixed with spit onto the ground beneath him." Funny I didn't think Logan was capable of baring any children.."
On paper, he was every bit his father's child, blessed and cursed with the same mutant gift and capacity for violence that seemed to be so ingrained into their DNA. Beyond that, however, the differences were easier to spot. He was taller and leaner, in a way that might be mistaken for weakness, though such couldn't be further from the truth. All a person had to do was spot the malevolent gleam in his eyes to realise he was nothing at all like the Wolverine.
"Heh, what gave it away?" Tone casual, he had kept the tan and yellow colours of one of his father's suits, a cover that had its advantages, from time to time. Osborn had been the start, the offer of joining his Dark Avengers and X-Men teams presenting opportunities that opened more doors than he could count Some of which emboldened him to... take chances, embrace risks as he sought to extend his pool of associates.
"We're not on speaking terms." Which didn't affect him in the slightest, given how little Logan was involved his life to date. At least Romulus stepped in to fill the void that an absent father created... not that such an upbringing was smooth sailing, either, but Daken had learnt a significant amount. "Might be because I had most of his other kids killed." A sneer tugs his mouth open like a wound, proud of the accomplishment. True, Laura had slipped away, but the other bastards like him, the offspring of every tryst that Logan engaged in over the last century or two, stood no chance.
It was almost like fish in a barrel. How wonderful.
"That aside, you ain't looking too good yourself." Nudging what looked to be a piece of torn-off armour with his foot, he watched the way that it clattered and rolled around for a moment, before locking eyes with the downed stranger again. "It's probably worth mentioning that it's not ideal for our kind to be found out on the streets, injured. Osborn is always watching."
Morning Doodle: “The others’ eyes were locked on the statue, but before Nikolai could yank the cuff of his glove back into place, Zoya glimpsed the dark veining at his wrist pulse black“ (Leigh Bardugo's King of Scars CH 11)
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