the land of the unfinished

Hi there! The name’s Nyles. (26 | they/them, it/its) I write stories and RP now and then (Semi-selective); sometimes I even post art. Who’d’ve thunk. (Follows from @nihilistic-body​.)

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[Want some art from me? Check out my commissions here!]

Content Warning: My blog will often contain depictions of violence, blood, dark themes, possibly suggestive content and just generally terrible things. By no means do I condone it, as this is fiction. It is recommended that minors do not follow. I can't stop you, but know I will not RP with minor muns. (I block liberally!)

Ask box is always open, both in and out of character. However:

I don't do M!A's

There's a real person (me) that has to read your asks. If you abuse anon privileges, I will be turning that off.

As he would say, the hunger of gluttony is closely related to the hunger of lust. Which has led him to some. Interesting places.

=> You sit on the grassy bank of one of the few canals running through Atecastar, just under a bridge. It's gloomy and cloudy out, like it's just about to rain. But, you don't particularly care.

=> Picking up a rock, you toss it in to the flowing water. Thinking to yourself as you watch the ripples dissipate.

=> Evicted- from that shitty place, no less. Apparently out of the landlord's hands, who was, again, apparently not paying his own fucking bills. You sold a majority of your 'trophies' and... things you could spare. And others you kind of couldn't but didn't have any choice but to spare. And you still didn't have enough to buy the space from the bank.

=> 22 nights left to get your shit together and vacate. To tell someone else you're absolutely fucked and maybe get some help- though you hate the idea.

=> Where are you gonna go? How will you keep getting to work? You have like nothing to your name now. Had nothing much, to begin with. You hate everything about this. About your luck. About your life, even.

=> You pick up another rock- a larger one this time- and aggressively throw it towards the water again.

=> It all feels pointless, and you wonder how it could possibly get worse.

"Man. While I Miss CoMing baCk hoMe and seeing everYthing for the first tiMe in forvever, I Can't help but hate it too."

"EverYone asking: 'Oh, where've You been? You still have that pipe dreaM of being… what was it again, a MeChaniC?'"

"Or being all like: 'You never reaCh out or talk. You never do this or that. You left Gitana hanging, You know.' Like I had anY Control over that until reCentlY."

"Not that I feel like handing MY life over to beCoMe a Meathead quadded to soMe posturing bulgewad with onlY their naMe going for theM."

=> Not to mention, your little 'visit' to Chirannajit went less than smoothly. You had to pretty much fight your way back out since the place was a den of tigers.

=> While you have been busy helping the twins as of late, you've come upon more time set aside for yourself now-

=> And you have no idea what to do with it. Your current projects are uninteresting, for some reason. Your quads, busy per usual doing their own thing.

=> You have, though, been re-reading through your vault of books and personal journals you've preserved. And you've realized something- not one of said journals turns attention on to your own magic.

=> Have you really not written anything down about your study to keep? You mean, sure. Your memory is like a steel trap and most of this stuff, only relevant to you. But besides basic forays into the field of soul magic, you find it hard to believe you've not written anything down. Studied it in detail.

=> ... Turned the metaphorical 'knife' on yourself. Maybe the literal one too.

=> .........

It is funny to me that like the Kelters, he can shrug off (or at least, hinder) a significant number of supernatural effects trying to gather information on him, or affect his faculties.

However. The lot of this is buried under a million layers of cynicism, pessimism, sarcasm and other things. Expectations placed on him as a highblood, the bullshit he's been forced to endure. Disillusionment with the imperial system.

However, she's aware that the few flings she's had have been just that. Flings. The feelings never lasted, and it's never been anything serious. Not that she even expects anything to be reciprocated- I mean. Who could she blame for it, either? She knows very well what kind of troll she is.

Ruthless. A liar. Mildly sadistic. Secretive.

Eyrlow gave up, frustrated. It wasn't until Alioth was 9, that they suggested he join up with Gaia to find a decent tutor.

"I don't recall an event like that."

"Unless you mean my offer. What did I confess, hm? That despite his best efforts, he hasn't put everyone off? Not everyone has given up on trying to be nice without wanting something from him?"

"Gods forbid I try to help out a friend, apparently. You people will read into anything."

=> She pauses.