#doodleland

Most likely gonna do some redesigning for Derek but here's some sketches of Creature/manticore Derek. Again may change him but this is what he will look like in the story.

Avery has curly orange hair, and is NB/Intersex. Uses any pronouns but prefers He/Him because he looks masculine.

the old.....

andddd THE NEW!!!!!

Onto my intro, my name is Sean. I am an exiled god, cast down to this plane for being awful at my job in every way. But nevermind that! I’m approachable and easy to talk with! So long as you don’t mind the smell of liquor.

Oh, and, he/him pronouns. I’m not well versed in that stuff, but I know I use those. I plan on making myself at home here :)

(ooc info undercut)

!!!! WARNING THIS BLOG HAS BEEN GETTING MORE SUGGESTIVE AS OF LATE AND I TEND TO FORGET TO TAG THAT CONTINUE ON WITH CARE IF YOU DONT WANNA SEE THAT KINDA STUFF !!!!

ANOTHER ASKBLOG. PLEASE SEDATE ME. anyways! main is @themostsanebug and you can call me mod or william or steven i DONT care.

Are asks open?

YEP!

[Warnings: Death, lots of blood, themes of worship, heavy angst and implied manipulation! Proceed with caution!]

Thin strings looped tightly around his wrists, suspending him in the abyss. He swayed lazily in the air, watching and waiting for something to happen. He wasn’t too sure where he was or why he was even here. He was sure Tobias had something to do with this. Was this where he’d finally be freed like it had promised him? Had it found the gods, Daemon and Apollo? Was this accursed realm where he’d finally be returned to a normal life? Free to write to his heart’s content, free to live out the average life he never got, free from the ever watching eyes of the god he’s done everything for. Everything. He’d given his mind, his body, hell, Tobias practically owned his soul.

The strings unraveled from their spot, letting him plummet into the dark space he was previously dangled over. His heart jumped in his chest, beats skipping and jumbling over and into each other. A cry of static left the speaker on his head, sharp and loud. He landed on solid ground, collapsing to his knees with the air punched out of his lungs. His tail quivered as his chest heaved. In and out. In and out. He had to breathe manually with the shock of it all. In, out, in, out, in and out. His legs ached and he still had the adrenaline rush from the fall. He held a clawed hand over his heart, feeling out his own heartbeat. It was a rapid and sporadic rhythm, a constant, fast paced thumping that made his head spin. It took him a while to get back to his senses. The second he was able to focus again, he felt around his platform. He quickly realized it was incredibly cramped. One wrong step could land with him toppling off the edge and falling much longer than he originally had. He settled on sitting directly in the middle of it after that discovery.

“Boris Madden.” The familiar voice of the messenger god sent shivers down his spine, a contorted, twisted comfort nestling deep in his bones. He’d grown to trust it. He’d learned that all his fighting had been for nothing. Him and Tobias had wanted the same thing all along. Freedom. Some strange force left him unable to respond, as if his voice box was on mute and his mouth was glued shut. He dipped into a half bow instead, hoping to please Tobias with a simple gesture.

“I have one final request before you achieve your desires. One simple little task. You can handle it, correct?” Boris nodded as fast as he could. He was so close to his goal. He just needed to listen to it one more time and he’d be free. Just once more and he can live in peace.

“Tear open your chest and dig out your heart. A two for one deal, truly, the final sacrifice you need to make and I get to check the purity of it in the process. It’s simple, is it not?” Caught off guard, he nodded a bit more hesitantly this time. What if he died before he could succeed? Surely Tobias would bring him back. Fill out it’s end of the deal. Surely he’d make it. He just needed to suffer for a few seconds and it would all be over. Tobias wouldn’t lie to him after all of this, right?

“I’ll leave you to it. Don't fail me now, vessel.” The voice left and Boris was left in utter silence yet again. Guess he should get to work. He shuffled out of his tattered, bloodstained shirt, letting it flop to the floor of the platform with a gross squelching sound.

He dragged his clawed fingers down the front of his chest, as if plotting out where he needed to cut to open himself up. One steady breath in and a quick slash and blood poured down his front. Pain spread like a wildfire, he found himself looking through blurry vision at his own blood covered talons. Another slash and he’d managed to strike bone, leaving him with a gaping wound running down the span of his ribcage. His breathing grew shallow, red flowing steadily from him and pooling onto the platform below him. He needed to work quickly. He was bound to pass out soon. He just needed to prevail. He just needed to get to his heart.

He carefully took his own hands, separating the small flaps he had created out of the gash. He reached into his own chest, claws sliding between the gaps in his ribs. He felt around for a while, prodding around at different organs, allowing more blood to gush onto his arms and hands. He found it soon enough. His own heart. It’s beat was slow and choppy, trying to keep him alive and preserve energy. His head felt light, pain seared through all of his nerves, almost being enough to stop him. He took the sensitive organ into his hand, feeling around for where it was connected to his body. Another slash was all it took for him to peel it out of himself.

He drew his hand back out, looking down, foggy eyed, at the pulsating heart in his hands. He knew he was going to die by now. He had accepted that fate the moment he took this request seriously. He turned the organ in his hand before setting it down. He settled down onto his knees, hands clasped together in prayer as the life drained from his body. His tail wagged weakly behind him, blissfully unaware that this was the end for him. The shadows crept over his vision and Boris Madden lay dead in a puddle of his own blood.

His last thoughts were those of worship for the one who caused this. His last dreams of freedom would never find him. He had been set up after all. A god of Tobias’ nature wasn’t afraid to make deals only to get it’s way. Boris had truly believed it was going to bring him back. Bring him back like how he used to be. A normal human. A normal human with a normal life that was ripped away from him. He would never get to live it out now. It was too late for him. Farewell, Boris.

“Doodle House,” Tenterden, Kent, United Kingdom,

Sam Cox said it took 900 liters of white paint, 401 cans of black spray paint for the exterior, 286 bottles of black drawing paint for the interior, and 2,296 pen nibs to carry out the endeavor.