#variixnt

// Was up at 1 AM making moodboards for some interactions that I adore! Enjoy! :D

// I put them all in one post bc I didn’t wanna spam the dash- the list to navigate them is below !

Keki and Vaas ( @thxwxlf ) // Tanner and Mike ( @dcllmaking ) // Ernst and Lucas ( @dcllmaking

Wyatt and Lucas ( @devilsdecade ) // Lucius and Antony ( @variixnt ) // Bela and Wilson ( @machinaticn )

Boone didn’t drink often, but he had a hard time turning down a free round when it was given to him at the airport. He didn’t usually get gifts, but the beret gave him away.

The only people in the world that could be thankful for him instead of hateful. Boone didn’t agree with them, but... free drinks.

⚔️ Hurt / Comfort Sentence Starters // CLOSED ⚔️

⚔️ @variixnt ⚔️

The feeling of comfort that flooded Antony’s chest at hearing the words stung as much soothed. A double-edged sword slicing right through his heart. One one hand, he felt a weight being lifted off of him with the fact that someone cared enough to address the way he addressed himself; and they felt the words he branded himself unworthy of besmirching his skin even metaphorically. On the other, his palm grew heavy with the disdainful thought that he may have concerned the other by letting on how he felt about himself. How his perspective often lingered on his shortcomings, and how his rank in the Legion was only kept safe by the fact he could the train the very dogs others so commonly compared him to. He let out a wry little laugh, forced and void of any real humor.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” A pause. “Didn’t think anyone would get upset actually. They tend to agree with me.” Or, was it that he’d started to agree with them? He supposed after hearing them speak it so much perhaps they’d finally gotten into his head, and it was only a matter of time before anything occupying his brain at a given moment who fly off his lips without so much as a second visit. The demeaning taunts and insults tore at his brain, like rabid hounds ripping into the carcass of a Brahmin roasting in the Mojave sun. A deep breath sent the scavenger pack scrambling to the hot winds as he leaned back and let it blow against his face, cooling the sweat at his brow. It flickered the little hair he had left on his head. At this point, he was having a hard time discerning if the things he endured were just the typical Legion demeanor and soldiers trying to build him up, or just tear him down unprompted anymore.

“I get tired of hearing it.” He gazed off into the distance, long and desperate and pining for something on the horizon to fixate on. Something, anything that would allow him to avoid meeting his companion’s gaze. “But I find that it’s easier to just agree with them. Makes them leave quicker if I just nod and play along. Acting dumb tends to do the trick.” While Antony didn’t particularly consider himself dumb by any stretch, he knew he wasn’t as well educated as some. And he accepted that. It wasn’t what he arrived for anyway. Still, he didn’t feel it warranted the verbal abuse, but what good would the arguments do? Who would he convince? “But still, I hear it so often that... well, I just assume it’s how people always think of me. How they address me even. Sorry I made that assumption about you.”

Lucius was different. He had always been different. More mature some would say. Certainly above the juvenile acts of teasing and fighting for the sake of starting or squaring petty squabbles. And Antony agreed, but maturity wasn’t quite the word he’d use. Because in his mind, the mature thing to do would be to simply walk away and ignore what was happening in the first place if it didn’t concern him: that was the Legion way. Fair and just, seemed more fitting. He was respectful, even if others didn’t agree in showing that respect to some. If there was a conflict, he didn’t place false blame. Only the instigators and aggressors earned their punishments. And he was loyal. To Caesar. To the Legion. And to his companions. Antony supposed then that it made sense that he’d worry about something as seemingly trivial as harsh words, for such things were not trivial to him.

Spook-inspired Encounters!

“I start to remember something at Hachioji. There are corpses everywhere and made the waters dyed red.” It was a scary moment after Hayakawa and Masamune discovered something way more brutal. The ways of these people died seemed too harsh as the sight was unpleasant for both of them.

“ oh  ,  why can’t they all just go to hell ? ” (from Pip 8D)

Kaede could always debate the existence of hell, but of all things that she’s seen in this godforsaken country, ( vampires, ghouls, werewolves and the like ) hell might as well exist. What, with the barrage of ghouls attacking the medical wing of the Hellsing Manor. 

Most doctors, like herself, were holed up in a their offices, armed with firearms for self defence. Fortunately, the mercenaries came. Unfortunately, she had the Frenchman. Pip always had something witty to say. He had dibs on the last word. An annoying trait to a person that often did the exact same thing.

... Ceres liked him. She couldn’t be too mean.

⚔️ Interview the Muse | CLOSED ⚔️

“The memories of my days as a tribal are always my clearest. I remember the days where my mother used to walk me through the fields in our territory. Despite being scorched so long ago, life was returning to the land. You could tread along the ground and feel the soft grass under your feet, catch the smell of blooming flowers. The trees began to grow again and in them you’d hear birds singing as you walked past. I remember walking through them with my first dog, and my mother, and her dog, Cloudfoot. I remember that day because I had lost a dear friend of mind to sickness, and I asked her what happened when we die. Not our dogs- but us. And she comforted me by telling me that when we die, we go to a place a lot like these fields. The grass is tall and there are flowers all around us. There’s a river we come across once we’ve walked far enough away from this world and a rainbow bridge we walk over. Then we stand and we wait on the other side until our dogs come and join us. And then we play in the giant fields together and make our way to some place far away where all the people we love will be with their dogs. The feeling of comfort I got from hearing those word was something that stuck with me. Gave me hope. Hope that someday, this will all be over and there will be peace for me and my hounds. It’s stuck with me ever since. Even though I lost someone I loved, I still consider that the best day of my life just because of how much of an impact it had on me.”

“The worst day of my life I think goes without saying. It was when Lanius came to our tribe. I had seen war and plague and pillaging. There were sooo many occasions where I thought I knew suffering beyond belief. But Lanius... proved me wrong. Everyone else from the Hangdogs say they learned the meaning of power, of fire and hell raining down when he came. But do you know what I learned? I learned the depths of human depravity. I learned just how evil and cruel humans could be. I learned that people are capable of doing awful, terrible, tremendously horrifying things to one another and feel nothing for it. And that is what scared me the most. Knowing that Lanius was not one of the monsters from our tribal campfire stories, no beast from some cautionary tale. He was real. And he was a man. Beneath all the armor he was just like me and the rest of my tribe. The realization that humans were the real horrors behind everything in this life almost killed me. But I stayed alive, unfortunately. I stayed alive in spite of all the days that pass where I wish I hadn’t. I watched him order his men to hold us back, tear our dogs from out grips, force us to watch as they struggled and bit and clawed at the hands the beat them as they were dragged along and thrown upon the flames. I could still see them even through my tears, scrambling to escape the flames that blackened their furs, their screams sounds almost human as they roasted on those embers. I smelled the burning flesh of the hounds and I heard the cackling of Legionaries. I have so many days and nights where those memories haunt me and I wish I weren’t alive to have them. Because at least if I had died, it wouldn’t have been as painful as witnessing that. I remember not being able to breathe, less because of all the smoke, and because I couldn’t catch my breath between sobs. That day... the day the Hangdogs finally surrendered, that will forever be the worst day of my life. I will never be able to know peace so long as history remembers that. And so long as Lanius is alive, remorseless and apathetic to what he took from me. My family, my tribe, my dogs, my courage.

Deep red banners flying in the wind were nearly indistinguishable from the scarlet-colored sky and the crimson staining sandy soil beneath their feet of countless men. Had it not been for the golden bulls so boldly etched into each tapestry and contrasting the blood-like color: as it fluttered in the wind, many may have very well left their banners behind to mark the trail where broken soldiers made their way home. Compared to the massive uniform hoard that had stormed the Dam on the first day, they’d been decimated. Though their enemy had taken a brutal beating, it was not without its counter-attacks. A tremendous amount of lives were lost on both sides, the pain on the Bull so great it had finally stuttered in its charge. At long last, it had hit a wall it could not break through in one fell swoop. And it was angered. Severely.

The trip back to the Fort was a long journey to make on foot. Carts full of the injured who would recover and those who had been killed with just enough luck to last them a cart ride home in one piece (or even relatively one piece) kept the walk slow. And even in defeat, the men held their ranks and marched onaward with a fiery determination to cling to the last of their dignity with everything they had, following the bloody trail they had marked on their first pass through the Mojave. The tedious march back to the river was thankfully, not without its occasional stops. The fading rays of sunlight over the distant mountains on the horizon a signal to all that night was falling. They could go no further for now. Not with the darkness closing in, holding such things as Deathclaws and giant Radscorpions and Nightstalkers in its midst, undetectable, waiting to spring on the weary or unsuspecting as they passed in oblivion. No, they’d suffered enough casualties as it were and the journey was still long. Rest was needed if they ever hoped of arriving in an even vaguely timely manner.

The mass of bodies broke apart like a great stone crumbling into many individual grains of sand, dry cascades pouring out into their own neat little piles around red tents and roaring fires. Centurions and Decanus leaders ordered their men to begin setting up their camps for the night. And just as they did, so too did the higher ranking officers- the overseers of the overseers, like Antony and Lucius and the Legates, the disaptched members of the Praetorian guard and the Frumentarii that had too been ordered to fight in the battle. Antony sat himself by the fire. Being one of the first to have finished setting up his quarters for the night, he took the opportunity to avoid his tent. Avoid having to wake up sooner, start walking again sooner, face Caesar again in the wake of the outcome sooner. Delaying the inevitable, just as he always did. He stared into the crackling flames of the fire before him, his only company for a moment being the hound by his side. Lupa nudged idly at his leg, sensing his distress and warranting a soft pat on the neck from Antony. His gentle scratching, the running of his fingers through coarse fur so idly didn’t seem to satisfy her, nor ceased her whimpers. Oh how much they had to answer for.