#volkys

[autoapuntes]

Gran junte de Volkys este fin de semana en el Hiram Bithorn

Este sábado 29 y domingo 30 de junio de 2024, Puerto Rico se prepara para recibir el primer auto show dedicado exclusivamente a los amantes de los Volkys / Volkswagens. Bajo el nombre de “¿Cuántos Somos?”, este evento promete reunir a la comunidad automovilística para celebrar la pasión por los vehículos de la emblemática marca alemana, intentar romper récord de asistencia, así como disfrutar de…

[six-demon-bag]

AKSEL HENNIE as SASHA VOLKOV DANIEL BRÜHL as ERNST SCHMIDT THE CLOVERFIELD PARADOX (2018)

[mythicalmo]

༊*·˚✎ the one with ember | e. r

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ navi | m.list | esme m.list·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺

content warning: established relationship, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, toxic behavior and speech from a romantic partner, toxic relationship traits, hints of social isolation word count: 2.1k

a/n: alright, this is my very first post so don't be too harsh on me if the quality is low. as for the warnings, there's nothing explicit, at least in my eyes, but there are traces of some toxic speech and manipulation so better safe than sorry. let me know if i miss anything!

"What're you doing?"

Esme jumped back as a deep voice broke through the ambience of the greenhouse. The cauldron she had was situated in one of the smaller side sections. The sounds of the fire from the burner and the bubbling from the mixtures she was working on was like a lullaby. It wasn't unusual to find her zoned out as she scurried around, her mind simply gone and lost to the world.

That's the sight that Ember must've been met with when he walked in and decided to sneak up on her. Her hand was pressed over her heart, eyes wide as she tried to catch her breath. The fire genasi in front of her was smirking at her in amusement. "Didn't mean to scare you. You were really zoned out there, huh?"

"Guess I was," she huffed out in a laugh. "What can I say? Brewing relaxes me." He gave a small hum of agreement, his arms coming around her waist and tugging her slightly. Her own came around his neck. The two of them leaned in, a chaste kiss shared between Ember making some sort of joke about her breathing in too many fumes.

"What's brewing?"

Esme immediately perked up. "Oh! Professor Fernstring is letting me do some of the prep for the potions lab next week!" She had been talking more frequently with the lab professor, her work during classes earning their attention. She was a skilled student, had some sort of natural talent for potions and working her way around plants and various ingredients. Honestly if she didn't she had no right calling herself a Wild Warden. Because the lessons weren't challenging enough for her, Professor Fernstring decided to allow Esme to take on a sort of lab assistant role. A small trial run to see how she'd cope with the work load alongside her busy school schedule. She was thrilled.

"It's a Drimteraj Elixir—it's most commonly referred to as Drime Elixir even though the pronunciation isn't the same and the original translation is lost. It's almost like a... uh—a transfigure—is that how you...— transfiguring element in potions and alchemy. It's easy to brew, the only thing that is difficult about the process is having enough patience and being steady when you mix. You want to make sure that you don't scrape the side of th—"

She was cut off abruptly by Ember crashing his lips against hers. "You're rambling again," he muttered as he pulled away slightly. She went to speak again but he merely chased her lips, rendering her unable to get a word out. "And nearly wacked me in the face a few times too."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Time and place, remember? No one needs the extra information unless they ask for it, otherwise you're just going to seem like a know-it-all." He looked down at her with an eyebrow raised, almost like an adult reprimanding a child for misbehaving. She gave him a small nod, looking down at her shoes. "And you need to work on your Common. I could barely keep up when you keep switching to Elvish."

"I could always teach you," she offered. Taking a chance, the wood elf snuck a glance up at her boyfriend, but he was already pulling away from her and walking towards her station.

"I'm too busy. And I'll never use it anyway."

A soft clearing of her throat, Esme went back over to the cauldron to try and ignore the heat of embarrassment washing over her. Ember had explained to her that she tended to get carried away and that things were different in the Arctic Isles than they were in the Feywild. She had tried to get used to the different customs and the social rules, but it wasn't her area of expertise. The social cues made no sense and there were so many exceptions to keep track of. It was hard enough trying to relearn Common after not using it for so long.

Thankfully Ember was just patient enough with her to help teach her and be firm when she needed. She adored him and part of her wanted to make him proud in some way. To show that she had taken what he taught her seriously and that he was important enough for her to put in effort. She had to pay him back somehow.

She gave the elixir one last stir and checked on the oil she was infusing beside it before lowering the burner and allowing both to cool before bottling them.

She strode into the main part of the greenhouse to grab some glass vials she was allowing to dry whilst Ember looked through her various journals and notes that she had sprawled everywhere.

The quiet of the greenhouse was comfortable. It usually was. When she was first offered the role of lab assistant by Professor Fernstring, she had the task of simply tending to and growing some of the ingredients they'd need to the labs or the prep mixtures. She managed to talk her way into letting the faculty permit her to use the smaller greenhouse they had planned on demolishing. It was out of use for quite awhile but it was perfect for the wood elf. She'd have her own space—a safe space—that she could make into a home away from home.

"Hey, babe?" She hummed in response. The last of the vials were carefully placed on the bench. "Does the Dream Elixir require two elements?"

"Drime Elixir," she corrected. Her eyes scanned over and under the small mess she had created at the station before finding her dull yellow gloves. "There's no extra elements, you can brew it all in one cauldron, another reason it's one of the simpler ones to make."

"Then why are there two potions in here?"

Esme paused, gripping her gloves in one hand as she bit her lip. One of the skills she had was the ability to brew multiple potions at once with efficiency. And in the same cauldron. It was a feat she was proud of and one of the things that managed to capture the attention of the Botany and Alchemy Department. She had multiple metal dividers to place inside her cauldron. Right now one of them was used to separate the large pot into two.

"Uh, I'm just—it's nothing. Some talon oil is all." She spoke quickly and quietly. Shoving her hands into the gloves and making her way over to the cooled cauldron, Esme tried to busy herself with bottling the oil so she wouldn't see Ember's exasperated and annoyed reaction.

"Esme, we've talked about this!"

"He's my friend, Em!" Esme's voice had a tinge of desperation. She didn't want to have this argument with him again, but it seemed like no matter what, Amarcus was always going to be brought up and case another rift that she would have to mend. "I know you two don't get along for now but—"

"What? I'm not the one with the problem here, it's him."

"You don't make an effort to make the situation easier." Her focus was wavering, trying to steady her hands to properly pour and cork the oil so she could move onto the elixir.

"So you're saying it's my fault?" Her hand slipped and she slammed the bottle down. She closed her eyes and tried to take deep breaths. The oil dripping over the side of the vial and over her gloves was tough to ignore. "Great, I'm the bad guy now."

"I don't want to argue, Ember," she spoke slowly. Esme finally turned towards him, a tired and exasperated sigh leaving her lips. He was across from her, leaning back against one of the low benches with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were guarded, lips pressed into a thin line as he regarded her coldly. "Can we please drop it?"

"Do you not understand where I'm coming from?" His voice took on a tone that had Esme clenching her fists. "I don't like you going out of your way and spreading yourself thin for something he can just go out and buy for himself."

She rolled her eyes, accepting the fact that he just needed to say his piece before they would be finished with this conversation. Turning back, she blindly grabbed a rag to clean the bottle and what she could of her gloves, placing in the last cork before she could get started on bottling the elixir next. "I'm not going out of my way. If I'm already in here brewing something, there's no harm in making the oil too."

Ember let out a groan from behind her. "Prims, that's not the point! I'm saying that it feels like he's more of a priority than I am!"

"That's not true!" Her voice had finally risen, the silence that followed filled with a tension that almost felt suffocating. The only sounds were the simmering from beside her and the heavy breathing from the two of them. She hates fighting and arguing, especially about a topic that somehow seemed so controversial. Ember had brought it up to her from a place of concern. He believed Amarcus was taking advantage of her and her friendship, claiming that she wasn't well-versed enough to know the difference between a true relationship and a business partnership. It was a pill Esme refused to try and swallow.

"I took your advice," she finally said after calming down. "I talked to him and set boundaries. I told him I can't give him all of my free time and I stopped communicating with him on my crystal so frequently too."

She thought that would appease him, make the air lighter. It only seemed to give him more fuel. "Well then what's worse is that means I'm still being stood up because of some plants and a potion that could've waited a day to be brewed."

"That's not fair. You know this is important to me."

Her breath hitched slightly, her mind struggling to keep up with the monotonous task of filling up bottles and vials to store them for awhile. This was usually the part she could get through easily. She had a rhythm, a routine of how she liked to do things. Perhaps Ember was right, she needed to leave the greenhouse at some point and put some things off just a little bit.

She heard him sigh and before she knew it, he was behind her, tugging at her waist to turn her around to face him. She let him, trying to keep her eyes on the cauldron to make sure the elixir didn't begin to turn color from simmering too long. His fingers gently grasped her chin, moving her eyes away and giving her no choice but to make eye contact.

"I know." His voice was softer now, his lips brushing against her forehead before leaning down to look at her. "But sometimes I'd like to think that your boyfriend is important to you, too."

"I know—I'm sorry." She took off a glove. Her newly freed hand grasped at his waist, fisting itself in his jacket. "I promise I'm trying, this is all still new to me." She gestured between the two of them.

"You'll learn." He raised her chin, a final kiss pressed to her lips in finality. "How much longer is bottling going to take so we can go?" She looked up at him with innocent confusion, her head tilting to the side. "Our date..?"

Her eyes closed in silent realization. She felt the warmth of his body move away. The only reason she reached out and followed him was due to the fact that his footsteps were retreating towards the door of the greenhouse.

"Wait!" She grabbed onto his hand, stopping him in his tracks. She only received a look from the corner of his eye. "I... I won't come up with an excuse. 15 minutes. I'll make it up to you."

Her thumb swiped gently across the back of his hand, her eyes pleading with him to forgive her for getting so lost inside her mind that she disregarded everything that wasn't in her little personal garden.

He turned to her slightly, offering the smallest of smiles. "I'll be outside."

She brought his hand up to place a kiss to his wrist, but he pulled away before she could even get close. She swallowed, watching him walk away as she tried to formulate how exactly she was going to finish bottling, cleaning, and storing everything in only 15 minutes...

soooo not gonna lie, towards the end i do feel like i rushed it a little bit. doesn't seem like it flowed the same as the beginning, if it does at all, but i did want to get this done and posted before i chickened out. i'm pretty proud of it nonetheless.

© mythicalmo all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

[t4tklonoa]

Leorina is such a great character . the fact that she trusts Klonoa enough at the end to give them the elements . I'm gonna throw up /positive

[touronja]

volkyrona

[phasfex]

[frenchcurious]

source Volky Chica.

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTW: Robbie, (/) Georgie; small talk

I’m putting this week’s story of the week on tumblr rather than Patreon because Georgie isn’t the only one with a permanent weakness wherever Roberto Lombardi is involved.

For the prompt: Robbie POV of the latest SAIT?

The way Chaps tracks him down after the game, a determined clip and a panicked expression, Robbie thinks some bad shit just went down, bracing for it before he even opens his mouth.

“I invited Georgie out for drinks,” David says, mouth twisted, looking worried, apologetic. “I’m sorry, he’s good friends with Jake and I wasn’t thinking–”

“It’s fine,” Robbie says as soon as he processes it, mostly just relieved that Chaps isn’t telling him Volkie or Lourdy is in the hospital after a dirty hit, or something similarly serious. This is not — well, it’s not fucking ideal, but it’s not the situation it would have been a couple years ago, not the situation David’s face says he sees it as.

“No worries, Chaps,” Robbie adds, as David continues to look panicked.

“Are you sure?” David asks, “I can tell him–”

He stops, looking physically ill at the idea of having to uninvite Georgie. Robbie thinks it might actually kill him if he tried. Or maybe it goes against one of his prime directives as Hockey Canada Robot: 1. Do not harm a human unless he’s an opponent, and try to avoid it even then 2. Do not harm yourself or other Hockey Canadians 3. Please be polite.

“No worries,” Robbie repeats, affectionately scrubbing David’s hair when he continues to look like he has all the worries. He could tell David that Georgie’s probably not coming anyway, that Georgie knows better than that, but for some reason he doesn’t say it. Maybe because it sounds too ugly even in his own head.

“Maybe he won’t come,” David says tentatively, but not like he’s hoping for it. Robbie doesn’t think Chaps issues enough invitations to hope any of them are rejected. He doesn’t issue invitations at all, honestly, waits to be explicitly invited along even to the shit he has an open invite to.

Robbie finds himself in the bowels of the visitor’s side of things, hunting Georgie down. The things he does for friends, he swears. It’s not hard, at least – none of the Whalers see anything but a former teammate looking for his old D-partner. Robbie recognizes his replacement hanging out in front in front of the visitor’s exit, a dude practically twice his size who greets Robbie with a level of genuine friendliness that makes Robbie feel a little bad for hating his guts.

But it’s whatever, it’s fine. Schneider points him where he needs to go.

Georgie looks wary when Robbie finds him, which is probably the right call. He’s got a nick in his brow, must have gotten clipped, and Robbie doesn’t know if it was there before the game, or one of their guys. He wasn’t looking.

“Don’t worry,” he says, before Robbie says a word. “I’m not going.”

“You should,” Robbie says.

“Really?” Georgie asks, and Robbie tries not to bristle at the note of incredulity in his voice, because he can’t actually blame him for it.

“Chaps invited you, right?” Robbie asks. “He’ll think he did something wrong if you don’t come. You know how he is.”

“Okay,” Georgie says, which is exactly what Robbie came for, so he doesn’t know why he leaves unsatisfied.

Chaps doesn’t look relieved when Georgie walks in the door most of a drink in, but he doesn’t look disappointed either. Robbie doesn’t know how to describe the expression, but it’s enough to make him glad he found Georgie. It’s a big bar, and they shouldn’t have any trouble avoiding each other. Hell, they managed pretty well when they were sharing a locker room, so this is nothing.

Which means there’s absolutely no excuse for Robbie hovering at the bar stool next to him, another round in.

“Hey,” Robbie says,

“Hey,” Georgie says,

“Mind if I sit?” Robbie asks.

Georgie nudges the stool with his foot, just enough to send it Robbie’s way, and Robbie sits down. He bets if he looks around he’ll find Matty lurking somewhere, horrified and ready to pounce. No reason for it, though. Robbie’s just making conversation.

The bartender arrives, eyebrows raised, and Georgie orders a pint of what Robbie was drinking. Robbie switches to a bottle. He doesn’t know why — draft tastes better. Maybe pacing himself or some shit. Probably a good idea. 

“You played well tonight,” Robbie says.

“You did too,” Georgie says, and the silence stretches, neither of them saying shit.

“You didn’t text me or anything,” Robbie says. He didn’t know he was going to say it until he does, and it comes out sounding almost whiny. Fucksakes, Lombardi. “Let me know where you were going.”

Georgie blinks, takes a sip of his beer. “Didn’t think you’d care,” he says.

“That’s not fair,” Robbie says.

“Really?” Georgie asks. “That’s not fair?”

Robbie can’t exactly retort to that. He’d have been pissed off if Georgie assumed he did give a shit, told him not to fucking flatter himself. Still. 

“Your ma must be thrilled,” Robbie says. “All her boys nearby.”

“She burst into tears every time she saw me for literal months,” Georgie says fondly, and Robbie smiles despite himself. She always cried a little whenever Georgie came home, so he’s not surprised Georgie signing close would get a whole ass crying jag.

“You like it?” Robbie asks. “Hartford?”

“It’s quiet,” Georgie says.

“So nah,” Robbie says.

“No, I do,” Georgie says. “I do.”

“You and Schneider play well together,” Robbie says, instead of ;why’ when he doesn’t even want the answer. “That kid’s going to be around a long time.”

“I know,” Georgie says. “Guess I only do okay as long as I’m playing with studs.”

“Fuck off,” Robbie says, abruptly furious, then has to laugh at himself. Every fucking commentator throws that word around, it’s not like it means — it doesn’t mean shit like Robbie’s taking it. He swears Georgie could say it was a nice day and it’d piss him off. It’s almost funny from the outside. Almost, not really. Probably not particularly funny to Georgie.

“I should go,” Georgie says, right on cue, and Robbie has no right to be pissed off at that either.

“Nobody’s stopping you,” he says.

“My captain literally told me not to stay out too late,” Georgie says.

“Isn’t he like, five years old?” Robbie asks. He’s been in the league maybe a couple years, max.

“He takes the job seriously,” Georgie says. For all he’s talking about heading out, he hasn’t moved an inch. “How’s your mom?”

“Good,” Robbie says. “Better. Was rough going for awhile, but she’s good.”

“The rest of the fam?” Georgie asks.

Robbie takes a swig, bottle hitting the bar with a dull thud that reverberates through his forearm. “Fuck ‘em.”

“Sorry.”

“It is what it is, right?” Robbie asks, and he doesn’t know he feels about the look of understanding on Georgie’s face, but if he is mad, he’s not mad enough to feel it, not under everything else.

“It is what it is,” Georgie says.

What does piss Robbie off is that in his mouth it sounds fucking profound. In Robbie’s it just sounded bitter. Was bitter. Robbie Lombardi, bitter about something? Call the fucking press.

Robbie knocks on the bar twice, clears his throat. “Good to see you,” he says, and it’s not the truth, but it’s not exactly a lie either, or at least not as much of one as he expected it to be.

Georgie must not stick around long, after. Robbie doesn’t see him leave. Early flight out, probably, and apparently a boy scout captain. And, he supposes, no reason to stick around anyway, not anymore.

[vampyrs-and-witchers]

VAMPYR(2018) - OC; “Alisa (Alice) Anya Volkov”

ALIGNMENT:

Neutral Good: Neutral Good individuals do the best they can, working within rules but not feeling bound by them. A kindly person who helps others according to their needs is probably Neutral Good.

BIOGRAPHY

➜ Full name: Alisa Anya Volkov

Name meaning:

Alisa is a Russian name for girls that means "great happiness". It is a Russian version of the classic name Alice.

Anya means "gracious" or "merciful" and is a diminutive of the name Anna.

Volkov: patronymic from the old personal name or nickname Volk from volk 'wolf'. Jewish (eastern Ashkenazic): habitational name from any of the places called Volkovo or Volki now in Belarus which in turn are derived from Russian volk 'wolf'. Wiki .

Nickname(s): Alice

Birth: May 22nd, 1888

Death: March 10th, 1918

Age: 26 (death age of physical body), 30 (age since contracting lycanthropy)

Family:

Dimitri Volkov (Father, MIA - Presumed dead)

Akim & Alexei Volkov (Older brothers - twins, presumed alive but missing)

Anastasia Volkov (Mother, deceased)

Sasha & Sofiya Volkov (Older sisters - twins, deceased)

Friends:

Sean Hampton (Good friends, took her in - inadvertently saving her life.)

Hsiao Shun (Friendly, get along.)

Lady Ashbury (Friends, knows she’s a Lycan.)

Other connections:

Jonathan Emmett Reid (Charge & love interest)

Enemies:

Lycaon of Arcadia (Despised, the man who turned her into a Lycan)

Geoffrey McCullum (Despited, leader of the Priwen, his men hunted her down when she was running away.)

Maker: Lycaon of Arcadia

Born: Kinerma - Karelia, Russia

Citizenship: Russian, Russia

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual (male lenient)

Height: 5ft 2in

Weight: 148lbs 67kg

Eye color: Grass Green

Hair color: Brown (Honey blonde)

Species: Lycan, human (previously)

Scars:

CANNON; Across the right side of her neck, extends down to shoulder blades (large, jagged, healed)

CANNON; Inside both wrists, self harm cuts. (varying in sizes, healed)

Body type: Short, skinny, plump in certain places.

Unusual features: None to note.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

OTHER

Affiliation(s): Pack of Arcadia (formerly), Pembroke Hospital (briefly)

Occupation: None

Allies:

Lady Elizabeth Ashbury

Sean Hampton

Jonathan Emmett Reid

Old Bridget

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

EARLY LIFE: Alisa Anya Volkov was born into a sizable Russian family of six - now seven. Her early years were shadowed by tragedy when, at the age of twenty six, her mother, Anastasia, and two elder sisters, Sasha and Sofia, were killed in a horrific attack by Lycaon of Arcadia, a creature known as the father of Lycans. The brutality of the event left scars on her father, Dimitri Volkov, who vowed to protect Alisa with a fierceness she would never fully understand. As she grew, Alisa was often reminded of the family she had lost, though her father kept the darkest truths hidden from her, hoping to shield her innocence and allow her to find some semblance of peace.

Seeking a fresh start and better opportunities for his surviving child, Dimitri moved to England. He enlisted in the English army during World War I, joining the fight with fierce determination, and settled into English society to provide Alisa with a secure upbringing and a high-quality education. Although the sorrow of her family's tragic past lingered like an unspoken shadow, Alisa grew into a bright and compassionate young woman, with an inner strength that mirrored her father’s resilience. Her Russian roots remained a source of pride, though she adapted to her new life in England, driven by a desire to honor her family’s legacy and create her own path in a world forever changed by war and loss.

Loosing her father and twin older brothers

After the traumatic loss of her mother and sisters, Alisa found strength in her father, Dimitri Volkov, whose unwavering dedication provided her with a sense of stability as they started their new life in England. But this fragile security was shattered once more when Dimitri enlisted in the English army to fight in World War I. The war brought prolonged separation, but Alisa clung to his letters, each one a lifeline and a promise that he would return. Yet, as the conflict finally subsided and soldiers began to come home, Dimitri did not. Days turned to weeks, and Alisa’s hope was chipped away with each passing moment. Despite her efforts to find information, her father was declared missing, his fate unknown. The void left behind was as brutal as it was unfathomable, leaving Alisa alone, carrying the weight of her family's legacy and the haunting absence of the man who had been her protector and guide.

The sorrow was compounded when her two older brothers, Akim and Alexei, also vanished without explanation. In the wake of her father’s disappearance, her brothers had become her remaining support, and their sudden absence left Alisa with a hollow ache. Alisa, now truly alone, became a person of intense will, quietly haunted yet driven by an unyielding determination to preserve the memory of her loved ones and seek answers to the shadows that had stolen them away.

LYCANTHROPY:

However, her darkest ordeal was yet to come. One night, she was kidnapped by Lycaon himself, the very creature who had destroyed her family, and subjected to the horrifying ritual of transformation into a Lycan. The experience left her physically changed, but it was the mental and emotional scars that cut deepest, shattering what remained of her former life. Held captive and forced to embrace a monstrous form she despised, Alisa suffered in silence, barely holding onto her humanity. After months of torment, she seized a fleeting chance to escape, fleeing through the desolate streets of London until she stumbled upon a compassionate man named Sean Hampton. A devout figure dedicated to helping the lost and the suffering, Sean took Alisa under his care, providing her with the first true sense of safety she had felt in years. His kindness and friendship became her lifeline, grounding her shattered spirit as she began to heal, haunted yet hopeful that she could reclaim her life.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

TRIVIA:

Lycans (colloquially known as Werewolves) have the natural gift to shift their forms into three different appearances, these are: The human (the Lycan’s base appearance, what they look like before transformation and contracting lycanthropy), Timberwolf/Dire wolf (This transformation takes the appearance of a large wolf, typically and often confused for the prehistoric ancestor of wolves), True Vulkod/Volkov (the ‘typical��� appearance of a werewolf as perpetuated by human media.)

What is Lycanthropy? Lycanthropy is a viral infection that can be transmitted from victim to victim by bodily fluids such as semen, vaginal excretion, saliva, tears and blood.

Can Lycans be born? Or are they made? Lycans are typically made not born, if a human infected with lycanthropy were to mate with a human they would infect their partner and unborn child with the disease. There are no known cases of ‘naturally born werewolves’ who transform into humans only the inverse which are humans infected with a virus that allows them to transform into beasts.

Are Lycans ageless? Lycans age at a rate far slower than humans; a Lycan who may physically appear to be twenty-three could very well be a hundred years old. Although, the longest typical recorded age for a Lycan was 202, the first ever created Lycan is rumored to be over several millennia’s old.

Are Lycans mortal? Well typically Lycans age at a rate far slower than humans. They are still very much susceptible to death, infection and injury much like any mortal creature.

What kills a Lycan? Unnaloyed silver, silver gray wormwood, mistletoe, wolfsbane.

Can Lycans mate with humans? What about vampires? Lycans can produce viable offspring with humans but with vampires it’s dependant on the type of subspecies of vampire and what kind of vampirism the recipient suffers from. In most cases no viable offspring can be created as they die in utero. In rare cases offspring can be produced but they are born weak and depending on the level of care can live up to half of the human’s life span or half of either parent’s lifespan.

Can Werewolves (not Lycans) mate with humans? What about vampires? Werewolves can mate with humans and create an offspring, as for vampires see above answer.

What’s the difference between a Lycan and a Werewolf? A Lycan is a human infected with lycanthropy (The power of a human to transform into an animal, such as a wolf. The word comes from the Greek words lykos, meaning “wolf,” and anthrōpos, meaning “human being”.) who can transform into a wolf-man like beast. A werewolf is a sentient and highly intelligent beastial creature who has the ability to transform into a human. In simpler terms it’s would be; one is a human who can turn into a beast (meaning its base form is that of a human) while the other is a beast who can turn into a human (meaning it’s base form is that of a beast).

I still don’t get it, can I get another difference between Lycans and Werewolves? Lycans contract lycanthropy through a viral infection, where as Werewolves are born they cannot be made.

What is a ‘charge’? Though similar to the wiki definition of the word, in the world of Lycans and Werewolves - one can choose a human or vampire to make their charge. A charge is essentially someone who the Lycan or Werewolf chooses to bestow; knowledge of their species to, protect, guide, educate them in all manner of subjects that the Werewolf or Lycan may be versed in, as well as teach them their language and customs.

Vampires need blood to survive, what do Lycans and Werewolves eat to survive? Either species can eat normal human food to survive, though both have a penchant for meat - be that raw or cooked. Lycans unlike their cousins Werewolves - have a special affinity for human flesh - a bleeding human can be a tantalizing target for them to devour or turn.

So, Lycans are also cannibalistic? Yes.

Can Lycans avoid eating humans? That all depends on the will of the Lycan in question.

[parabelllvm]

something i thought about this morning are the color of Ki's freckles. because while they are this light, silvery color, that's because of her Volkies (mountain fae) heritage. that blood is very strong so most of her features tend to veer towards resembling a bonafide Volkies. that includes the lyfka kosti (whitewood eyes) markings and the whole kitchen sink of what goes on with them. however, she is half Volkies and half Isodian (sun fae) so she needs to have some attritubes to lend to that, which she does! her complexion visibly warms up a bit the longer she's out in the sun.

i've never really thought about how this effects the glow of any of her freckles but... it would! because even though it's not a complete shift from neutral to warm, I feel like it would affect some aspect of the color.... and part of me wants to make it go from silver to like... some where in between white and rose gold color. like it's not too pink but it's still not quite that silvery color that her freckles normally are. this thus results in the color of the glow being affected as well as heat rises to the surface of her skin.

i'd imagine that it still look like silvery little dots on her far from far away but if you're able to get super close, it'll be a lot more warmer toned than you think

[ofkatyavolkova]

WHERE: the bonfire. WHEN: september 15th @ 12:57am. WHO: katya volkova & anyone.

It had been a while since she had seen some of the Volki. Some were more familiar to her than others. But as the evening grew later, Katya had let herself fade into the shadows of the evening, affording herself to sit in comfortable silence as she observed the others interact. This bonfire was the harkening of the beginning, and she knew that from here, Mikhail would escalate his plans. But for now, she took comfort in the non-interactions, not having to maintain her guard up against individuals that she did not yet trust and was still wary of. A deep sigh escaped her lips as her fingers itched for a bottle of alcohol; it was rare to witness Katya without a container of liquor of some sort — it being one of the remedies that allowed her to tolerate some of the Volki. And yet, here she was, allowing the warmth of the flames to warm her figure sans any alcohol. Hearing the telltale steps of someone beginning to approach her, Katya resisted the urge to sigh yet again as she fingered the weathered log she sat upon, remarking, "This seat is already, sadly, taken."

[six-demon-bag]

AKSEL HENNIE as Sasha Volkov CHRIS O'DOWD as Gordon Mundy THE CLOVERFIELD PARADOX (2018)

[ofsvetlana]

september 10: rysk is growing dim, dimmer still with the onslaught of dusk. the rats racing to their hiding place. people are returning home to their loved ones, to their families, to their burdens. and in the fighting pits, the earth swallows up the sound of footsteps drawing closer. when she arrives, her shadow is made long and foreboding by the drifting sun. OPEN TO ALL.

she expects to see more of them there, the volki. it is how she trained them to be: more than just disciplined, more than just ruthless — hungry. always ready to eat, never eaten.

but there is only one other figure here in the trenches. svetlana feels the simultaneous tug of annoyance and pride.

"i see we had the same thought."

her smile is the blade catching the light before it dies: brilliant, blinding, gone in an instant.

"are you leaving, or have you just begun?"

[michaeljpatrick]

My newest D&D character for planescape. He's a volki (my homebrew species) wizard. He's an ambitious youngster who's trying to piss off his retired adventurer dad.

[gogogobarry]

@electrivolt replied to your post “On the topic of communication devices, Barry has...”:

BARRY NO.............

​"Ooookay, Poketch! Time for the trusty, all-seeing MAGIKARP COIN FLIP to tell us what good ol' Volkner's nickname should be! Remember, this is what we'll be calling him for the rest of time--my nicknames are sacred stuff! Once it's locked in, it's locked in!"

Sticking his tongue out with concentration, Barry prepares to press the button that will determine Volkner's fate, his new title, forevermore.

"Heads, Volky. Tails, Captain Thunderpants. It all comes down to a classic 50-50...whew! I'm totally on the edge of my seat over here!"

[kevepe]

RED APPLE VOLKY