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Very exhausted from my new temp. job but hopefully I’ll still have time to draw and write

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If joy doesn’t motivate you, spite also works, too.

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Dark Muse Qs— 16&25 for Cetus Bruce (perhaps specifically verse with Jack but in general,,,)

Dark Muse Qs

16. Are they a good liar?

Depends— Bruce is a decent liar to strangers and those he dislikes. But to friends? Not quite as much. Usually, anyone who has known Bruce for a while can pick up on his tells and shifts in his voice.

25. Have they ever died or come near death?

Bruce had nearly been killed by a few fishermen in his lifetime, and earned quite a bit of scars from each encounter.

I also can’t see Bruce NOT going toe-to-toe with Chase Young when he gets too violent and blasé with handling Jack. Unfortunately, Bruce gets his ass handed to him and he barely gets away alive, but still refuses to leave Jack alone with Chase.

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Dark Muse Qs- 1-2 for human bruce?

Dark Muse Qs

1. Any piercings or tattoos? Meanings of said tattoos?

For both turned-human and wereshark verses, Chum works as a tattoo artist and created ink designs for most of the sharks. Bruce bears an anchor on one arm and a fishhook with a winding line wrapping around the other arm. He also has minimalistic shark jaw bands around both upper biceps. The tattoos are meant as a reminder to his birthplace and connection to the ocean. Sometimes he wears tiny silver studs in his ears.

2. Any scars? How’d they get them?

For turned-human verse, Bruce had most of his canon form’s scars received from prior tussles with prey and fishermen.

For wereshark verse, Bruce does physically transition because was born human / wereshark — he takes testosterone shots (with his friends’ help usually; Bruce doesn’t fancy medical needles) and bears surgical scars from top surgery.

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Has Bruce ever wanted revenge on someone/something, even if just for a little while? I imagine this varies on verse!

Absolutely— in his canon verse, his mum was taken from him by humans. She got away later but they were separated, and Bruce presumed her dead. As a young pup, he wanted nothing more than to make those humans pay, but he was powerless to do anything substantial. Attacking uninvolved humans meant putting other sharks are risk. Tracking down the humans who attacked them? Nearly impossible. So Bruce had little left to do except swallow these emotions.

In his troll verse, Gunag the Orc commander tricked Bruce into thinking that he had killed Bruce’s first and only friend— Maliku, an Easterling scholar/anthropologist. In reality, Maliku had evaded capture but was separated from Bruce before they could escape Mordor together. Despite this, Bruce had plenty of reasons to hate Gunag. The Orc commander was Bruce’s main abuser in Lithlad, and had no more important of a mission than to break Bruce’s spirit and craft him into a mindless killing machine.

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“At least let me die on the ground with some dignity?”

Inspired by a dream I had recently. At least Bruce is a nice Troll lol

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Darker Muse Qs

Some darker themed questions to aim at your muses.

Make sure to specify muse if multi-muse, love each other, etc.

Any piercings or tattoos? Meanings of said tattoos?

Any scars? How’d they get them?

Bad habits?

Deepest fears?

Negative character traits?

Mental illnesses?

Regrets?

Something they’re in denial about?

Someone or something they’ve had to leave behind or give up.

Worst thing they’ve had to do to survive?

Harshest thing anyone has ever said to them?

How often do they swear?

Have ever killed someone? If so, would they kill again?

Are they haunted by guilt for anything?

What is a secret they’ll take to their deathbed?

Are they a good liar?

Are they deceiving anyone?

What drugs have they done, if any?

Do they self harm?

Have any self-destructive tendencies in general?

Last reason they went to the hospital?

Have they ever been to prison?

Do they hate anyone?

Do they want revenge for anything?

Have they ever died or come near death?

How do they feel when they’re completely alone?

Physical feature they dislike the most about themselves?

What would it take for them to sell their soul to a demon?

Would they curse god, kill god or try to become god?

Do they have hopes or dreams they’ve given up on? What were they?

What was the worst memory from their childhood?

What are their nightmares about?

What one sentence could someone say to them to completely ruin them?

Would they ever betray a friend?

What did they last cry over?

Have they ever felt grief or heartbreak?

Would they ever resort to cannibalism?

If they hallucinated, what would they see?

What would they change about themselves?

If they could apologize to anyone, who would it be?

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Even if Bruce far exceeded the typical height of many Mordor-bred Olog-hai, his current body language didn't give him such an impression. The sudden voice caused the Olog to whip around to face the stranger-- a Man, from the looks of it, though Bruce hadn't yet caught the other's scent. Bruce idled nervously on all fours, his head lowered barely a meter above the ground to protect his softer neck and stomach. Add a tucked tail, and the Troll more closely resembled a kicked dog than an Olog.

Any step forward from the Man elicited a step backward from Bruce, and the Olog fastened both of his beady blue eyes onto the sword held aloft before him. He kept his back to the wall, gaze steady on the stranger. "I might say the very same for you," he said, tone flat and merely observational. "Mordor doesn't tend to have a whole lot'a Man visitors."

In the mountains, the Gravewalker waited. He had been severely wounded in a skirmish, and he had crawled away to the mountains to die in peace - and awake again in the morning no worse for wear. He had just started his descent when he spied the Olog.

It was unusual to see one travelling alone out here, towards Cirith Ungol. Celebrimbor whispered in his brain about plots and bait and distractions, but something made Talion want to investigate.

At just the right moment, he dropped down from a ledge, drawing his sword, glinting pale blue in the sun.

“Well now,” his voice echoed in the narrow valley. “What do we have here? Hardly the place to go sightseeing now, is it?”

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"Ah, I reckon I can understand that," Bruce nodded, flashing a toothy smile. "Can't say I felt all that chipper when I once had a copepod infestation." Even the very memory of the dreadful experience elicited a shiver in the great white. While the great white never viewed himself as a clean freak, the infestation during his late teenage years kept him all the more grateful to the cleaning stations scattered throughout the reef. And the helpful remoras traveling in the more pelagic waters.

"What 'bout the humans?" the great white asked, tentatively tiptoeing into a deeper unknown. Bruce's own albeit limited experiences with the bipedal creatures seldom tended to end well. From the fearful swimmer to the decidedly belligerent fisherman, the great white never felt entirely welcomed into the humans' good graces.

"What were they like?" An open-ended question: not 'were they frightened of you', or 'did they swim away from you'.

“Well, sure. Bailey was definitely there with me for the longest but there were others before him. Unfortunately, we weren’t the only whales who had ever gotten hurt or sick, after all,” she explained. "I'm not quite sure I thought to keep track of the number back then, though, and you might say I wasn't exactly... close with a lot of them..?"

“You have to keep in mind, the Marine Life Institute was, first and foremost, a hospital for marine life like us. Which means you weren’t exactly brought in there to make friends, nor in the best shape, so not everyone who was brought in always wanted that with their neighbor...”

There was, perhaps, a hint of sadness with that. As Destiny recalled the numerous times, more so as a younger shark, that she’d try and enthusiastically befriend her latest neighbor only to find that her efforts weren’t quite very much appreciated.

(And often least of all from a shark rather than a true whale. But she decided against including that detail.)

And if that sadness were at all noticeable from the outside, it quickly gave way to her usual demeanor of amity.

“Oh, but I hope I don’t sound like I’m being judgemental! I know it’s not always easy to be on your best behavior when you’re not feeling well.”

After a beat, she circled back to the question of her neighbor count, admittedly a little embarrassed that she had gotten so off track. “There were at least a dozen. Or so? I know that might sound like a lot but, again, it’s just because I was in there for so long. Though, if it helps to know, not all of their problems were very serious, and not all of them even stayed for very long, either. And they pretty much all left good as new in the end!”

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The ringing in Bruce's ears persisted, long after the muffled shouts above finally drew the Cetus from his daze. It took a moment too long before Bruce finally realized what the stranger had said. With a dust-coated throat, the Cetus could barely wheeze a reply, words interrupted by a coughing fit.

"I just saw her--" Bruce said, words fractured as the grime and dust billowed through the air. He gestured with his head in the direction that he had seen Mari's faint glowing lantern just moments before the basarios had launched itself out of the rock pile. His gills stung, and a boulder protruded uncomfortably against his ribs, but Bruce couldn't yet feel anything broken on his own person. He lurched forward despite his tail snagged beneath a dozen more rocks.

"Mari!" Bruce shouted into the collapsed pile. "Mari, are ye there?"

NOTHING. NOTHING BUT THE SOUND OF the groaning earth as it settled, and the basarios pushed its way into the tunnels that remained. The light of Mari's scoutfly lantern has been snuffed out.

It's eerily silent, filling anyone who might be there with a sense of dread as the cold quiet lasts longer and longer. Then, the caved ceiling behind them finally begins to lurch.

Light. It pokes through cracks in the ceiling, before more rock gives and tumbles to the floor. There's a voice at the other side of the growing hole. Bruce wouldn't be able to see them just yet, but they possessed a masculine voice.

"Hey!" The young man's calls are nearly deafened by the frantic roars of something outside. "Hey, can you hear me?! Is anyone there?!" Bruce wouldn't be able to recognize it—but Mari would have. Shadows briefly block out the sun peeking through the hole in the roof before it opens up some more, and a tall figure hops down, possessing fiery red hair and a yellow scarf over his azure rathalos armor.

"Mari! Mari, can you hear me?!" Cheval turns towards the rockpile, before a glimpse of Bruce finally gets his attention on the Cetus. The rider stiffens in alert for a moment, before his expression changes with recognition.

"You . . . you're with her, right?!"

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6 for cetus verse! (details of a muse)

Details of the Muse:

6. Does your muse have any scars? What are their qualities, how do they feel to touch, where did they come from? Are they permanent, or will they fade?

In his Cetus form, Bruce tends to only have his canon scars— a few on the tip of his nose, a series of scars on his left side in the shape of a number four, a single slice across his left cheek, two intersecting ones on the right side of his neck— a puncture wound near his dorsal fin on his right side, and a large scar on his belly.

Most of those on his face are from prey— sea lions and seals have rather sharp claws and continue to scratch if not killed on impact— but the final two are from humans.

When he was a pup, a fisherman attempted to kill and gut him— likely to bring Bruce back to land as an odd trophy but a quick nip on the man’s arm brought Bruce a quick escape back into the water. He was also stabbed by a harpoon in his young adult years, hence the puncture mark.

The good news is, like their shark relatives, Cetea heal quickly and efficiently. However, the degree to wounds healing and fading completely depends on the severity of the wounds. Most of these non-superficial wounds are deep gashes and likely won’t fade with time.

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If Bruce had been completely honest with himself, he would have never imagined himself to have survived thus far. Even the most hopelessly optimistic individual could doubt that a lumbering, nearly five meter-tall Troll would evade the straggling followers of Sauron far to the west. The Olog had doubted that he’d even escape Mordor.

Yet, by some great stroke of luck— and the simple plan of putting one foot in front of the other, and staying low and hidden along any tree line— Bruce had journeyed further than the reaches of the map he originally had memorized, now grainy and clouded with time.

No scent of the coast graced his nostrils, which meant that he was still quite far from the furthest point west. Not that Bruce had much of a plan once he had escaped Mordor. Or then the Brown Lands. Or then Mirkwood. His only goal— beyond surviving the journey: putting as much distance between himself and Mordor as possible.

And so, the wild Olog silently lumbered along, naturally on all fours to muffle his footfalls, his back to the mountains he had just traversed.

@askrossiel

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Are there places Bruce avoids?

Oh, absolutely. Killer whales have been shown to actually cause great whites to leave previously populated areas en masse— needless to say, Bruce would steer clear of an area that’s known to have orcas around.

He also avoids areas where active commercial fishing vessels frequent, if he can help it. The last thing a shark wants to do is get caught by a trawl net— bycatch is unfortunately still a massive issue for shark populations, conservation-wise.

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6, 18

Olog verse?

Details of the Muse

6. Does your muse have any scars? What are their qualities, how do they feel to touch, where did they come from? Are they permanent, or will they fade?

Bruce has his canon form’s scars (a few on the snout, a number 4-shaped one on his left cheek, etc.) but a few more on his back. Troll hide toughens as they grow, and even the most impenetrable parts (back, back of the neck, etc.) are soft when Trolls are young.

Because Bruce was captured and brought to Mordor as a young Troll, there are more than a few indents in his back from several punishments — wild Olog-hai tend to have issues with violent authorities like your average bloodthirsty Orc general, and Bruce was no different.

18. Does your muse have any strange features or characteristics? Something in particular that might be unusual?

Unlike most Olog-hai bred in Mordor or Gundabad, the wild Olog-hai of the Southern Mirkwood tend to favor traveling on all fours. Additionally, wild Olog-hai more often sport a dappled pattern not usually seen in other populations.

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Traveling westward from Lithlad was easier said than done. Straight to the west lay Barad-dûr and legions of Sauron's closer-- and more unsavory-- allies. Who else would willingly dwell in the shadow of the enormous glowing eye atop the tower that pierced the starless sky like a sword aflame?

No, Bruce fancied keeping that tower-- and its main occupant-- far from his sights, which meant traversing further south than he wished as he kept his direction locked on the mountain range that encapsulated the land of shadow.

Lhingris wasn't any friendlier a dwelling as Barad-dûr-- especially to outsiders. Still, the towering keep of Cirith Ungol was smaller than other fortresses in Mordor, despite its impressive size. And it, most importantly, didn't have Sauron's current form stuck atop it, lidless and ever-watching.

Despite his enormous size, the Olog moved swiftly and softly. Hailing from the wild stock of Olog-hai in southern Mirkwood, Bruce always preferred to walk on all fours. It was far quieter than the lumbering, earth-shaking footfalls of Mordor-bred Olog-hai. And Bruce could flee more easily if the situation arose.

The road ahead carved narrowly into the montane rock and claustrophobia swelled in Bruce's chest. One wrong turn of the rocky corner into an enemy meant little room to flee. Still, the Olog braved forward, not daring to return to the path behind him.

@pxnxply (Talion)

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Already Bruce could hear the twigs snapping underfoot of the assailants on the shoreline. His thoughts raced, grappling at any notions strong enough to filter through the mind fog of fright.

“Ye think they’ll stop if they think ye’re dead?” The plan swelling in his mind was somewhat risky and relied heavily on the mercenaries reluctance to steal a sea beast’s ‘meal’. What else were their options? The river water’s shallow depths allowed little room for escape. Heart hammering in his ears, the Cetus turned toward the human beside him.

“Ah, Mellie? I’m gonna need ye to trust me… and don’t move—” he said, and he opened his gaping jaws.

Perhaps getting in the river hadn't been their best idea, given that the current only allowed him to barely move at all. This was bad! Why had she even suggested such an idea in the first place? If they got caught, Mellie wouldn't be able to forgive herself for such stupidity. Yet they already here, might as well continue.

Mellie herself was about to suggest that they return to the shore, even though Bruce's efforts were unfortunately fruitless. Yet she wasn't about to blame him, couldn't do that. Not when he was trying so hard to keep her safe! Though, his words were cut short moments later, as something flew into the water. Oh, no.

Given their current situation, it was obviously an arrow, the sound of water splashing alone made the young woman gasp out in absolute fear.

"Uh…any ideas…? Because we don't deserve to die, not like this…" she muttered for only Bruce to hear. They'd obviously been found, no doubt about it.