#malcontent menagerie

[salted-macarons-archived]

[OC] Testing out some new brushes

[deusvervewrites]

Menagerie X Heroes and Pokémon X Grand Debut: imagine, you gather a small army of malcontents and bruisers to attack the UA sports festival only to get beat up by a tiny pink psychic cat and his animal friends, if you survived those black holes that keep appearing out of nowhere whenever Kurogiri tries to warp out

>:3

[danco110]

“You will bow before our-”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The vampire spun away from his dinosaur captive. Behind him stood a lone archer, her bow already nocked and drawn to aim directly at him.

“Ah, you must be the malcontent who stormed the Royal Menagerie in Luneau,” sneered the undead bishop. “Quite a mess you caused there - one which I’m working on rectifying right now.”

“Just try to sink your fangs into me,” Vivien Reid spat in reply. “I’m not an easy meal.”

“Hm? Oh no! I meant capturing this dinosaur. My apologies. Although…I could go for a snack right about now.”

Vivien rolled her eyes, not misled in the slightest. “Release your captive, and I may ask them to stop when they try to eat you.”

“Charming. But I’ll take my chances.”

Vivien prepared another witty retort, but trailed off before looking past the vampire. The bonds holding the dinosaur captive were already beginning to weaken from her distracting the jailor. She lowered her bow with a smirk, which seemed to put the vampire somewhat at ease.

“Have it your way,” chuckled the archer. “Just so you know, I’m pretty sure someone’s made a cautionary tale about capturing dinosaurs for your amusement and all that. A ‘movie,’ I think Nashi called it?”

The vampire cocked his head in puzzlement, which served to sever the last of the restraining magic behind him. “A…what? And, who? Excuse me?” he asked, oblivious to the recovering dinosaur now looming over him.

“Oh, come on. Those omenpaths are all over the place! You’re telling me you still haven’t heard about Nashi and his movies?”

“Sorry to disappoint but-” was all the cleric managed before his former captive bit down on him with its jaws. Vivien turned away, shaking her head and muttering to herself.

“Actually, that makes sense. Luneau is an island, after all. Hey, sorry for- Oh. Right. You’re…never mind.”

[Headcanon: Vivien would be a huge Jurassic Park fan, and blurt out dinosaur trivia throughout the movie.]

[elliebear666]

Here's some dark, overwritten prose.

Beneath the surface of my skin, flesh pulled back like a monstrous giant peeling away the layers of the Earth, and to the bone - there resides pain. Imbued with the unrelenting agony of life's trials, every atom is altered and every chemical reaction changed; intensified, expanded and compounded.

Thoughts of what could have been only act as a mirage for those lost in the endless scorch of the desert sun, a shimmering illusion taunting the sufferer with images of what they so desperately want and need.

Even if one managed to escape the skin-melting heat, an ever expanding reality of turbulence and suffering lay before them. Each subsequent existential biome is overladen with a cruel menagerie of torments. The weight of the combined pain would drag down even the most stalwart.

Snap and pull away my fragile ribs, and see that every organ, or at least every husk of heretofore life-sustaining matter, is rotten to the core. No life could ever even subsist malcontented upon the withered wisps of what was once capable of breathing oxygen and pumping blood.

Before I died, I had choked on the hard to swallow razor blades of agonizing rejection and abandonment. The edges of those sharp instruments lacerated my soul and bled my want, hope, and love like a pig hung out to dry after the slaughter.

What had once been my body, my shell, my vessel, was now a collection of defunct and worthless parts. The pain did not end when I took my last breath. The stone of my sorrow fell from my limp hand and struck the mirror of the lake, sending ripples of anguish onto the shores of those that had held me in their still beating hearts.

When one wishes for it all to stop, they are not asking for the good to stop. They are not begging and praying at the gates of a vacant god's hall just for the love and laughter and happiness they've experienced to cease.

Without those three things? I had often languished through the night, wondering what life would be like. In the end, I begrudgingly came to the conclusion that, even bathed lovingly and evermore in the embrace of that triumvirate, the unending and unendurable nature of existence - a boneyard of hopes and dreams - would only lead me into darker and darker pits of gnawing teeth and rending skin.

So I embraced nothingness, and excused myself from the table of life. However, before I disappeared, I made sure to push in my chair, then wash my plate and utensils.

[eclipsecrowned]

The meat, such as it is, is swished carefully around their palate. Bits of gristle, of the fine outer shell, tumble between teeth. Limbs that had fought valiantly against the Sardinian's grasp now stick to Claude's gums. Their brow knits together in contemplation, genuine consideration, of the taste. Claude is starting to wonder if they should check themself into the good doctor's loving care, the longer they keep up the sincere attempt to drink in the insect's medley of flavor. At last, they swallow it down, offering a small 'eh,' in answer.

Only Claude could be so casual about the uncanny snack offered to them.

They've had worse, and in worse company. At least they've made someone happy with their antics. The old man's laughter sets a shrugging of the shoulders, a predestined answer to the question that follows. As they wipe juices away from their fingers and onto their fine pants, they consider their options.

"It has quite the bite for an hors d'oeuvre. A heft to it I find lacking in you typical English cuisine." They fix queer amber eyes on Renfield, as if they can find more to them than they had in their first pass-over of his physical character.

"A pity we don't have an aperitif to share with it, Mister..."

He is not the patient they seek. But waiting is so long, and where else would they find the opportunity to talk with an honored member of the menagerie of malcontents that the Queen's good upstanding folk filter out of sight and mind?

Oh, what a joy it is to be able to partake in an activity together! Especially as the stranger does not flinch away and leave him alone; instead they give in to the curiosity rather than the repulsion. Of course, if they had left it would have been perfectly acceptable too. He would rather be left in solitude than shouted at.

There is a form of recognition between the two, something unnamed yet still familiar.

Intriguing.

The stranger’s facial expression at the texture of the grasshopper induces a laugh in Renfield. One of the more filling members of the insect kingdom. But, not one of the most accessible. He often has trouble finding one, which is a shame! However, if he truly wanted a ready supply he would have to live elsewhere and that posed more frustrations and potential punishments than he is willing to deal with. And much less people who would be willing to indulge the rare offers to share them.

“Not quite what you thought it would be?”

[zoophagist]

( @eyesofthebeast )

Silence has become an oppressive thing in Renfield’s room. There had been a time when silence and the language of that silence had been exquisite an peaceful, but now it buzzes in his ears and hurts his head with its STILLNESS. This is not a good sort of place, he thinks to himself as he paces the floor of the cell, as he curls up on his thin mattress, as he stares through the bars of his window at the night sky amassing its stars. This is not a good sort of place. This is not a good sort of place. This is not...

The only things that disrupt his malcontented stagnancy are his own thoughts. The doctors come and go, asking questions and giving orders, but all this is no more than the buzz in the silence; it seems meaningful only because of the complete lack of any other meaning available. He has been confined here by foolish men, but even more, thinks Renfield, by his Master. This must be punishment for some doubt in His power or some delusion about NOT NEEDING his Master. So he remains, ill at ease and much distraught, but without the will to conjure his escape. He is where he is meant to be now, isn’t he? This is what the Master has designed for him, yes?

He is counting lives, maintaining his veritable menagerie, on the day when he feels PECULIAR. Some agitation stirs his blood that he cannot name, and his mind is distracted. A violent passion grows in him until the attendants are forced to restrain him, and then the rages impotently until the setting of the sun. With the last of the light extinguishes his fervor, and he is sublimely peaceful. Still, though, he feels something is to come, and when night is thick upon the world of men, and all but the night watch are asleep, Renfield begins to feel this something near, SO NEAR. He has never felt the pretense of his Master before, and yet he recognizes it before he can even draw up to the window and search it out.

He knows, and still he is fearful. “... Who is it comes here?”

[salted-macarons]

Out of sight, out of mind! (4/7)

[salted-macarons-archived]

ocs!!!!! One on the left is Cassiopeia while the one on the right is Kurisufia

[salted-macarons-archived]

New oc perhaps

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Quick doodles of the oc variety

[salted-macarons]

messing around

extra

original tweet

[salted-macarons]

Siblingss extra doots down below

[salted-macarons]

nerd

[salted-macarons]

Vergil doodles