#vyx asks

[shutmeupandtearmeapart]

you want me soooooo bad ooooohhoohoooo

Yes I do <3 You don’t even have to hypnotize me to get me to

[six-of-snakes]

send me an ask with the name of one of my ocs and I'll give you a random fun fact about them

[astystole]

💌 | Forget about sims, lets learn about YOU! Tell us one fact about yourself, and then send this to 5 other simblrs to do the same 🍳

my party trick is How Many Cell Phones Can I Fit In My Bra? the answer when i was in highschool was like. 7.

now phones are Big and also i don’t go Outside. but probably like. 4.

[vyxated]

Just wanted to give you some love while you're working to get things updated from this recent patch. You always work so hard to get things out so quickly for everyone, and you're always so kind and patient, even when people don't grace you with the same energy. I hope people are treating you well, and I hope you're not pushing yourself too hard to please others. Thanks for all that you do Vyx, much love 💕

Aww tysm for the sweet message anon 🥲

I'm quite lucky that my experience here so far has been really nice & positive since the start! Not to mention considering the majority of stuff I share are wip posts and just me experimenting with stuff (and often times putting it aside in favor of new projects lol) it's cool to see that they are being received well ☺

Anyway this is me to you all who've sent nice messages both on anon and off-anon (keeping your non anon asks in my inbox to gush over, you know who you all are 🥰)

[z4ync]

What up!

HELLO! My name is Z4ync

I'm udderly bored, so I'm gonna open my asks!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

WHO I WILL WRITE FOR

Redacted audios

Shaw pack

Vincent

Sam

Damn crew

Obsidian Lantern

Gator boys

The lost prince

Mermaids

Eris serenity

The pen

Cityverse

Barista and three piece

Syn and Nova

Max and the werewolf

Vyx and the captain

Nyx and the prince

Kris and Hyde and Casper

Becks and specks

Iris and Frosty

Good boy audios

Bastards vs zombies

MotH

The space pirates

Castle audios

Glenwood

You are my sunshine

Hero x Villain (both au august and normal)

Reverie audios

Desmond

Law

Neo

Cyril

Siren son

West Haven (original and reborn)

Daurgo

The architect

The divines

Colby

Killian

Escape audios

My grease fire life

Der Wolfsjäger

Matador Gothic

Neon Wings (NOT NEON BARBARIAN)

Nomad tales and audios

Frosthaven pack

The Chef

The hood

Errir

Mermaid

Dullahan

City wolf and country lamb

(You can add a song with it if you'd like :D)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

WHAT I WILL WRITE

Fluff

Angst

Head canons

AU

WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE

Smut

Hate speech

NOT LISTED CHARACTERS.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Other than that go wild, go crazy. Bye

[thequeenofthedisneyverse]

Villain! Ekko au - READ BEFORE YOU DOX ME!

FIRST AND FOREMOST

Ekko still has his morals and is still a good leader! I would never change that about him. So, Queenie, what does make him a villain if he still has morals?

Well, let's look at Ekko from an analytical standpoint shall we?

The number one thing he cares about is making Zaun a better place for people to live, not survive. He says this in season one. So, what do you think would happen if the number one haven he's been protecting for years goes up in smoke? Literally?

His tree, the tree that's been housing people for the longest goes up in flames while he finally decides to take a full night's rest. When he wakes up everything is on fire and the only reason, he makes it out is because of a few other firelights waking him up to get him out before he dies...like everyone else did.

He remembers the fire well...blue. pink. orange. red...fire. It was a multitude of sickening colors and rancid smell of chemicals that ate away his hideout until it consumed everything in its wake (This happened a year or so before season one).

Poor boyo just snapped after that incident...but for a good cause. Ekko's second voice of reason, Scar, was out for the count (he's alive don't worry, just mentally out) so...no one could get through to him.

Very few fire-lights were left, about 30-ish of them if you count some kids, teens, and (counting Ekko) adults. Some others managed to escape the tree/hide-out before it collapsed though.

He went through the proper three four stages of grief.

Denial

Anger

Bargaining

Acceptance

Ekko was tired by this point, tired of trying to be better, tired of the grief, tired of being nice. Everyone in Zaun knows it's "survival if the fittest" and "Either you can hunt the prey or be preyed upon" but Ekko fought that ideology for so long...now he realizes maybe he should stop fighting it and bend it to his will.

Chem-barons/crime lords run Zaun into the ground every day, Silco is one of them. Making things harder by distributing drugs and depravity of all kinds.

For the next two years, Ekko picked off the chem-barons one by one and took their territories to make them better. He tried to be civil of course, he tried to speak to them on a personal level, and at the end of every conversation, he says these words

"Either help me or lose everything you have...make your choice". Ekko hoped any of them would see things from his point of view...but they never did.

And in the end, they end up dead by his hands because they fail to understand or don't care enough to see things from Ekko's perspective.

Ekko had gained three new territories/turfs that he turned into safe havens. Whose territories/turfs did he take?

Chross, Smeech, and Finn's with his own strength, cunningness, and well...manic intelligence. Some of the remaining firelights were highly against killing people to get what they want. They were shocked by the complete 180 Ekko took...and it concerned them too.

Most of the adults tried to get through to him. "This isn't the way" and "you're better than this" speeches left and right. But Ekko wasn't hearing it.

"You're either with me or against me, which is it?!"

'Those assholes aren't helping Zaun at all. If I have to kill them then so be it!' is a part, he wouldn't add but it didn't need to be said.

None of them new how to answer that. So, most just walked away and left (refusing to be a part of Ekko's destructive path) while others stayed.

For the first few years the survivors lived in an old warehouse until Ekko moved them into a new turf/territory with more comfortable living arrangements. He never brought his fellow firelights into his violence unless they asked to help (most of them were too young anyway).

Ekko and Vi don't meet until Silco and Margot are the only crime-lords left.

Margot is a Chem-Baroness and the boss of Vyx, an illicit prostitution enterprise. She isn't really a threat to Ekko personally, but she ain't helpin Zaun and she wouldn't agree to side with Ekko so she's gonna kick the bucket soon.

She needs to go anyway if you think about it from his point of view. There are too many orphaned children in Zaun that could be corrupted by her depraved influence so it's fine.

I'm still figuring this au out but try giving me thought provoking questions I can answer!

[obsidian3ye]

I would like to ask about your OC's but I only now of Vyx and the autistic dragon in your profile picture, so I would like to ask if you had any other OC's that you would like to talk about? P.S. I just noticed that when I look at your blog, under the 'Blogs like this one', mine showed up at the top. Thought that was neat.

-Penny

I have the autistic dragon (Obsidianeye), Vyx (who exists in many forms, because they're me, you're probably specifically thinking of the robot one though), A Once Fallen Queen (she doesn't have a name other than that lol), a weird moth guy who's been rotating in my head, Skye (not Sky), who's a RWBY OC, and also my weird little catgirl who is nameless who I used to communicate to teachers how I was feeling on math tests in highschool, and to explain what specific trauma was causing me problems that day to the councilor.

[nosnet]

Dead and Dead Again: Uno (1) - Lessons

by J. D. Dennis

Time Period: Mojave Desert, 2022

Perspective: Vyxen

Rating: PG-13

Content Warnings: Cops, assault/personal violence, depictions meant to resemble sexual assault, heavy drug use mentioned.

Word Count: 5,217

Comments: Dead and Dead Again moves on to the first proper sort of vignette. Vyx runs into some uppity kindred in the middle of the desert. Y’know, the usual.

An endless road stretched before them, the sky split red with the last vestiges of a dying sunset, two empty lanes ahead of them and nothing but the wind and the ever darkening sky behind. Their bike took the empty road to task, the speedometer casually touching 100mph with minimal effort or worry, the tires ripping over the asphalt as they rocketed, blessedly invisible, into the void before them.  Luckily, being invisible, they wouldn’t get pulled – cops wouldn’t have seen them – or run into anyone else, either, though there was no one else around to be concerned with, regardless. There was no destination in mind, nor any particular goal, just a need for speed and time to think. That’s why they’d come out this far, after all – to think.

It was hard, being plucked out of existence fully formed and functional, but otherwise without opinion or thought. One minute, they were blissfully riding along behind someone else’s life and then the next they were being asked about things like preferences, how they liked their hair or their eyes or their shoes or the temperature of their burger; they hadn’t had the mind to form any, not really, nor the experience to justify the answer. There were many things that others took for granted which just… didn’t exist, yet, and Vyx had decided, after their immediate rejection by their now-probably-ex-husband, that the best thing they could do was get the fuck out of dodge and find the answers to those implicit questions. Better to come home a real person, with independent ideas and thoughts and feelings formed from experience – shoehorned into a few short years instead of the traditional lifetime others got – than to drift an empty shell, easily influenced until they couldn’t take it anymore.

It was harder, still, constantly hearing the Network, as they’d come to call it, but they were learning the boundaries for that just as much as anything else. When their head was empty, they could hear every Malkavian with half a mind and just enough Auspex to throw their thoughts into the void, every errant thought and feeling and prediction, unfiltered and untempered, just thrown into the mental soup – no wonder so many Malkavians were mad, if they were forced to listen to the things Vyx heard when they were alone. They did their best not to be, when they could – they found if they had company, a friend, a club, something, they could make the voices stop – and it meant they filled their nights with parties and clubs and events and whomever’s bed they could manage to sneak into. Not every night was a success, of course, but the voices started soft enough, at least. They could go a few days, maybe a week, before it got really loud, before the words they were being told seemed as loud as their own thoughts and they started to get them confused. Unfortunately, the desert roads were constantly lonely and devoid of life, and even the ear buds blasting music under their helmet was starting to fail. It wasn’t bad, yet, but it meant they couldn’t just linger in the desert like some new age Messiah.

They hadn’t known about the voices when they’d left Greensboro, unfortunately, or they would have probably put together more of a plan for their travels. Instead, they went by whims, dropping south, first – South Carolina, Georgia, Louisiana, where they discovered the network in the first place, then a touch of north Florida, then to Texas, and now they were tearing up the road somewhere in Nevada, Vegas a glittering shimmer in the distance to the north. That was probably where they’d end up, eventually, they figured. It was loud enough to keep their head ringing for a long time, long enough to make it out to California without needing to find a friend, at least. Besides, Vince had always liked cards, after all; most of their questions had been based on testing what Vince had liked against themselves, and it hadn’t proven them wrong yet. It helped them find things worth questioning without a lifetime of working at it.

They’d learned they liked their coffee bitter, and often cheap and from a shitty little diner somewhere at the end of a strip mall, but with sweet food, like waffles or cinnamon rolls; they’d learned they liked sweet barbeque over vinegar, but they could destroy a decent plate of Alabama White if it was done well. They’d tried acid at a back alley bar along the west side of Texas and liked the trip, the voices too quiet to compete with the drugs, and they’d smoked weed and hashish in just about every town they’d gone to with great success. The shrooms they’d gotten from a guy in South Carolina weren’t their thing, but it was probably the fact that, not having an immune system to fight it, they just didn’t punch as hard as they should have. They’d been offered cocaine in a nightclub at the topmost edge of Florida – they hadn’t even meant to cross the state line, honestly, Vince’s past there just too much to really try and revisit, but they had and they hadn’t minded that – and they’d killed the dealer for the trouble and thrown the whole bag into the swamp; Vince had some experiences with harder stuff, and something in them said it was better if they didn’t pollute the pool again.

They’d learned they liked wearing layers and didn’t like carrying around a bag because they wanted their hands able to fight and all their things at arm’s reach; they liked thick boots for stomping and short skirts and showing off their midriff when they could. They liked keeping their hair pink, but they also liked that they could change it with a shower and a little effort, though they didn’t really like blue or green and kept it somewhere between blond, mousy brown, pink, black or sometimes gray. They liked having green eyes, or brown eyes, or a mix of both, and they liked they could blink and change them and watch people jump at the sudden difference. They figured out they didn’t care what kind of cigarettes they got, but they preferred to bum one off someone else; they could almost taste their soul in their brand, after all, the flavor of the tobacco too telling to give up. They liked boys and they liked girls and they liked anyone in between, but they didn’t like assholes or bigots or pretentious hipsters that mistook them for one. They liked Mexican food, but only the stuff from the corner markets and food stalls and little hole-in-the-wall places next to local grocery stores and not the stuff from high end, hipster eateries and breweries, which were too fancy for their taste. They liked being a groupie – they’d found a band in New Orleans they’d hung with for a few months, and they’d liked the experience, liked the constant influx of loud and the consistent company, but they’d realized it was a tiring gig and decided, privately, that two months was long enough for any one band and quickly split, though they kept the t-shirt. They also learned they didn’t like zombies, vampiric or otherwise, including those weird German ones that Tzimisce made; they were too shambling and grotesque and too close to being something human for their liking, but the bigger things they made, the vozhd, well, those were okay, sometimes. It depended on the creator and the creature itself, and how messed up either were. Sometimes, vozhd were friend shaped, and they couldn’t hate them if they were.

They’d learned they liked parties, and they liked buying clothes to go to parties but they liked stealing those same clothes even better. They honestly liked stealing stuff, mostly because it felt like a private joke when they managed to walk out with a shot glass or a hair clip or someone’s left shoe, as they only kept some things they stole and left others in very strange places for later discovery. Vampire parties were fine, though they had to be careful; they were Malkavian and often unwelcome, depending on the host, and while it didn’t matter who ran a Kine party – they couldn’t throw Vyx out in any way that mattered – crashing the wrong Kindred party was a risk. They hadn’t been burned, yet, and honestly, they had no plans to stop until they were, but they knew, at least, it had risk, and they were prepared for it. They didn’t like the vampire politics, no matter where they were, and they didn’t like how that made everyone hesitant and slow to act; Vince hadn’t liked that, either, but he’d had less spine to complain about it. They had learned that wasn’t the case for them, and that running their mouth would probably be the thing that got them killed, so they made sure it was worth it when they did. They knew, ultimately, they’d probably be good at the game if they actually started playing it – and maybe they would, when they got home and actually had a city they cared about that they could defend; they knew they loved their old city, Greensboro, and they knew from how they missed the smell of Black and Milds mixed with cheap but delicious hibachi and the sound of a rumbling train cutting into the otherwise quiet darkness – but until they had something to care about, they’d decided, privately, that the game wasn’t worth it. Causing chaos, however, in other people’s politics was fun, especially when there weren’t consequences – or, at least, consequences that mattered to them.

They still had to figure out how they felt about cards, and gambling, among other things, but Vegas loomed in the darkness ahead of them. Maybe they’d try and run a casino, see if they could use the blood to get good enough to get kicked out. Press their luck a bit – no whammies, right? – and see if they’d come out loaded or bust. They could tell, at least, that it would provide them plenty of opportunity to decide more preferences, and that was how they liked it. They didn’t try and find things to test, instead, letting the whims of the universe press them forward into a direction and following as best they could, only changing tack when they decided they didn’t like something. Sometimes the voices helped, warned them of stuff they shouldn’t get involved in, the true purpose of the network; right then, they could tell someone had Dead Fingers Talking stuck in their head and now it was stuck in Vyx’s, only just drowned out by their music. At least it was a good song.

The cacophony of sound in their head meant they didn’t hear the roar of the engine behind them until the other car was very close. They’d noticed, first, the presence looming suddenly behind them – they were racing down the highway, and that meant it wasn’t likely Kine who were keeping right on their tail, as Kine wouldn’t have seen them nor would they drive so fast – before their headlights kicked on, suddenly. It would have been blinding, had they not had a shaded visor on their helmet. They liked the cat ear helmets, and shaded visors, and gloves when they could keep them from getting torn the hell up. They didn’t like crashing their bike, though, and they tried to avoid doing so, but they’d definitely been thrown at least once and it wasn’t going to be the last time, either. The car hovered, their bumper trying to kiss Vyx’s back tire, and they sighed, deeply, in the helmet. This wasn’t some impatient asshole, no, they were trying to get Vyx to crash.

One of the two in the car leaned out, the jig clearly up by that point, whooping and hollering like they thought they were on a successful and exciting hunt. Cocky, hot headed, puffed up, with a head full of rocks – that was a Brujah. Vyx could smell it in his blood, the way he postured, or the fact that his muscles gave inflatable suit when they checked the side mirrors. The blood was useful, sometimes. Vyx gunned the engine, rolling up onto a single wheel at the sudden burst of speed before they were off, quicker still on a bike, now cresting the edge of what the thing could physically maintain before it shook itself into pieces. They put distance, lots of it, between themselves and the car – they had celerity, but the engine didn’t, so even if they could react fast it still had to build and that was precious seconds they could use – turning off their own headlight, before switching lanes very suddenly and taking an off ramp to a defunct gas station without any warning or signal. They had a dark helmet, a dark jacket, and a dark, floral dress, with black boots and black gloves, and without a light on, their bike was hard to see. They zipped into the lot, doing a lap of the space so they could decelerate without the engine or the tires screaming at them, an attempt to keep quiet, before they rolled to a stop in the building’s shadow.

Could they have beaten the two Brujah? Probably. But two against one was always a messy kind of fight, and they weren’t carrying anymore, having abandoned their handguns in a PO Box just outside of El Paso. They knew Vegas wouldn’t let them carry, anyway, but that meant they were under prepared for a good fight. They liked handguns, they’d learned, but something in them missed the crack of a rifle; they just had to figure out who actually had Vince’s old rifle, a jungle Lee-Enfield that has belonged to Flidais first and then had been fitted with a scope after. It was shorter, it was stocky, and something about wood polish smell called to them from the depths of their brain. It didn’t help them right then, anyway, so they stayed tucked into shadow as the car zipped past, having missed them taking the off turn like they’d expected. Now they just had to hang for a moment until they got bored; there was only one way back out, and they didn’t want to pass the other two, but they also didn’t want to hang out in an abandoned building all night, either.

A few moments passed, and they rolled their bike back to the pump area, giving it a quick once over to make sure their intense speed hadn’t done any damage; the tires were a little worse for wear, but bike tires were pretty easy to steal, especially one at a time. Otherwise, it looked fine, their draw string still tucked happily under the seat and everything else in decent working order. They’d probably need to sleep in a mechanic’s shop overnight once they got to California, see if they could coerce some green shop kid into replacing a belt for a quick tit grab or something, but that was a worry for after Vegas.

The flickering red and blue lights that washed over the area were a worry for before Vegas, however.

The cop car that pulled into the station beside them was marked as a Nevada highway patrol. Of course, highway patrol would be out this late – but something about the whole situation struck Vyx wrong, and they pushed themselves up to standing and took their helmet off with a sense of apprehension. They’d been concealed, the blood hiding their form and their bike – it wouldn’t do for Kine to see a bike with no rider zipping down the highway, after all – and there were no devices, radar guns or otherwise, that could have seen through it. Or, at least, that’s what they thought, anyway – they could have been surprised. They were new to the powers, after all, and there was precedent that cameras could see through their vampiric powers as long as they weren’t live. Vyx set their helmet on their seat, leaving them in sunglasses and their jacket, putting the kickstand up and lighting a cigarette with a flameless lighter that had been Vince’s. They watched the tip glow red as the officer got out of the car. He looked so achingly generic, they could tell it was the blood, but something said he really did just look that generic, and the blood only enhanced what they saw instead of augmented it.

He smelled strongly of blood, stale and dead and bitter. Vyx shivered, hackles up. This guy was Kindred, too. No wonder, it wouldn’t take a genius to have seen the car, and they could have broken obfuscate with the wheelie, anyway. They grumbled something like a swear word around the end of the cigarette and hoped they could get out of this without having to kiss any ass or take any names.

“License and registration.” The cop was definitely going by the book, so there was a chance – however brief or unlikely – that he didn’t know they were Kindred, and they stuck to that chance as hard as they could. Luckily, they’d been given a license – fake, of course, Claire wasn’t about to let them loose into the world only to tarnish the fresh forgeries they’d just made – and the bike’s registration and had easy access to both, handing them over without complaint. “Do you know why I pulled you over this evening?”

“Uh, you didn’t.” They said in return, bouncing the cigarette between their lips as they spoke and exhaling pointedly away from the cop’s face, though they watched him watch them as they did. “I was already pulled over, checking my tires.” They shrugged, patting the bike affectionately on the seat. The cop – shaved head, stupid hat, full uniform and aviator shades in the middle of the night; man couldn’t have tried to sell the idea that he was a supernatural horror any less and he clearly wasn’t trying to sell it at all – sneered, handing back the paperwork without even putting it into a system. Definitely not Kine. “Why? Is bike maintenance illegal, now?”

“I saw you, with that car. You took off speeding.” The cop’s sneer was clearly misinformed, and Vyx realized with absurd horror that they were right, and that the man actually thought that they were Kine, that they’d broken obfuscate somewhere along the way and he’d thought he’d caught a Kine doing 150mph on the highway. Clearly, the other car had seen them, even tried to chase them off the road, blinding them with sudden headlights and an achingly close speed. Wild that they weren’t the cop’s concern, but honestly, cops loved to shit on bikers when they could, so it wasn’t unexpected. This was a thing Vyx had learned, and they’d learned they didn’t like it one bit. “With the speed I clocked you, I think you’re going to need to come with me to the station.” He chuckled, a deep and throaty thing, like he thought he had the upper hand in the situation. Vyx rolled their eyes, pulling down their sunglasses and giving the cop the effect of glowing, red eyes. Being able to change at will was useful, as they could communicate things much more subtly that way.

“I wouldn’t recommend that, especially since it’s just a speeding ticket, officer.” They let themselves snarl, let the teeth bring an edge to their voice that they often tried to hide, but the officer didn’t flinch. Of course, he’d inflated his ego and thought he’d inflated his generation with it and therefore didn’t care that he’d made a wrong call about them; unfortunately for him, there was a big difference in thinking oneself closer to Cain and actually being closer, and Vyx had been shown the difference first hand. They’d watched a Nosferatu with a considerable ego lose everything in less than two minutes, after all. The cop simply stepped up, giving Vyx less space to get away from him, like he was planning on putting one of his feet between theirs and pinning them to the bike; they bared their teeth before he got close, and he paused, actually laughing.

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t think you understand the kind of situation you’re in, here.” He said, crossing his arms, and something in their sense of awareness pinged, underneath the sound of Dead Fingers Walking and the flashing blue and red lights, over-stimulating and making it harder for them to pick out what was really their intuition and what was someone else’s. It meant that they didn’t notice the footsteps just behind them, and when arms grabbed them from behind, they shrieked.

Okay, they’d let this one get away from them a bit, to be fair.

The Brujah was strong, and admittedly, they weren’t, having not had the time to bolster their own limbs with blood before the fight. They’d wanted to save it, because they didn’t know when they’d next feed and it was the difference between having an obscured ride or getting pulled by a real Kine cop in Vegas, and they’d erred on the side of longevity. He also had the element of surprise, so Vyx found themselves lifted up and over the bike, dragged, kicking the whole while, the few feet to the car that had been chasing them earlier before they could do much more than yell. Of course they were working together, they thought, struggling against the arms as they were quickly manhandled into the back of the car, splayed out sideways across the seat on their back, the precarious position reminiscent of something else if the idea of being drained wasn’t honestly worse. They realized, trying to push out of the seat and finding that the other Brujah was over top of them, using his body mass to make exiting the car impossible, trying to pin them to the seat, that those two idiot Brujah likely ran people off the road all the time, and left them to the mercy of the officer, who could do what he wanted – kidnap, kill, share, whatever – and they’d had it good for a long time. Vyx wished they’d had any kind of gun at all, kicking out instead, and a good thunk to the Brujah’s thigh earned them an elbow to the face. Pain splintered up from their lips and nose.  

They could taste their own blood, but that wasn’t the sign they were losing that the Brujah thought it was. It was a sign that the gloves could come off – metaphorically, they liked these gloves – because their blood was splattered over the back seat of the car and it wasn’t like more would change anything. This was already going to be a messy, messy crime scene no matter what they did. They settled, the Brujah shuffling further into the car with an almost relaxed air, like he thought he’d finally won and they’d given up, but before he could properly pin them, they reached up, slapping them hard against the chest. They hadn’t ever learned how to do what they did, but they’d met a crone in the bayou that could meld bone and who had taught them some of the basics, and they’d seen Konrad and his ilk do the trick enough times that it almost came naturally. The slap had the Brujah’s ribs twisting like snakes in his chest, piercing his heart several times over and leaving him torpored. Vampire bone was just as good as a pencil, if one knew how to manipulate it.

The push also had him falling backwards, the slap fueled by vampiric force and hard enough to throw him from the car, landing in the desert dust with a puff of red sand. The other two, out of the car, hesitated, unsure what was happening, because usually, the chosen Brujah didn’t climb out of the car until he was sated and finished; clearly, this one had gotten to neither option, his face frozen in a mask of horror and pain. Vyx didn’t let them linger, flinging themselves from the car in a pounce, landing shoulder first on the cop. It was enough to catch him off guard, which was enough time for them to raid his belt – he had a Glock, which was better than a billy club or a tazer, at least, and a magazine with an orange piece of tape on it; Vyx knew what that meant, and used their surprise quickly to drop the magazine in the weapon before slamming the new one inside. The cop groaned, clearly knocked just silly enough with the elbow to the sternum that he couldn’t get up, which gave Vyx enough time to turn, firing three solid rounds into his fellow, who hadn’t figured out what to do yet and didn’t have time to complete the thought. The rounds burned hot, bright, tracer rounds – they’d seen other Kindred label their tracer rounds with bright tape on the bottom of clips and magazines before, or Vince had, which was sort of the same thing – punching one normal hole and then three burning hot ones into the chest of the other Brujah. He screamed, clawing at his chest, before falling onto his back.

The cop kicked up, dislodging Vyx from their place nearly laying over his body, but they rolled to their feet, gun up and in their hands before he could move again. He lifted both hands, acquiescing to the fact that he’d lost the round, at least, his childe – and they could tell from the way he winced at the Brujah’s screams that it was one of his childer, otherwise he wouldn’t have cared – writhing on the ground in front of them until he, too, went still. When he did, it was quiet again, the loudness of the brief scuffle all but vanishing into the desert wind.

“Alright, you’ve proven your point.” The cop said, trying to get them to lower the gun or give it back, holding out a hand like they were a toddler with a gun who’d just gotten very, very lucky. Vyx scoffed; they weren’t stupid.

“Is this how you always hunt?” They asked, using the gun to gesture to the car, and the bodies, and the tactics. Their finger was on the trigger, and they could internally feel their old partners screaming at them for it, but they still fully intended on shooting the cop, so it felt okay. They wanted the speed of the reaction, and it was like shooting anything else would really matter much. He pursed his lips, ran through his options – spill it or not – and decided on trying to be cordial, pulling himself up some but only so he could try and relax.

“It is.” He said, deciding it wasn’t worth lying. They knew, anyway, he could tell. He couldn’t tell much – they were closer to Cain than he was, that was for sure, and they certainly had a strange set of powers, but their almost random disciplines meant telling clan was beyond him. “The desert is lonely, after all. What’s one day’s delay for a Kine on the run?” He chuckled.

“On the run?” They asked, and he shrugged, again.

“When you find Kine out here, they’re either running to the city of avarice, or away from it. Why, I never bother to ask, but they’re either trying to hide from something in the rest of the world, or trying to get away from mistakes made out here. I can taste the fear.” He rolled his shoulders, like another shrug, but the pistol didn’t lower. He sighed. “Can you give that back, now? I think I’m done with this game.”

“Lucky you, I’m done, too.” Vyx said, pulling the trigger and putting a quick bullet in both the cop’s knees. They burned, hot and white and painful, and he collapsed to them, biting back a scream of pain at the sensation. Vince had been shot, once or twice, with tracers; they knew they burned like shit. “Unlucky for you, I’m still figuring out how I feel about the police, and the three of you haven’t done anything to endear yourselves to me. Especially thinking of how this would have gone had I been the little, helpless Kine chick out in the middle of the fuckin’ desert. You sicko.” They snarled, the images from the car still stuck in their head; if it hadn’t been them, it would have been very different, and they could feel it.

The cop opened his mouth to say something to his defense, but Vyx didn’t let him, putting another bullet between his legs. The sound he made sounded like steam coming from a tea kettle, and Vyx laughed. “Good news, at least; I’ve learned a lot tonight! For instance, I’ve decided I hate cops, I hate bullies, and I hate sick men. Bad news, you’re all three. Lesson learned, right?” They shook their head, and before he could speak anything else, they put the last bullet in the magazine between the man’s eyes. They went wide, and then he was crumbling, old enough to dust at their feet, leaving his hat behind, a marker to his crimes. They sighed. It was over just as quickly as it started, leaving them standing in the aftermath, blood on their face, empty gun in their hand, two cars, two bodies, and a hat left behind. They’d have to burn it all, before they were implicated in some kind of crime scene, and they only had a couple of hours until sunrise.

Ugh. Hopefully the gas station still had a gallon of gas left behind.

~*~

The cars went up quickly – there was one can of gas left, tucked behind a few rotting shelves likely by some drug runner trying to push something from the border to the city – and the bodies were easily stuffed inside, burning along with everything else. All in all, besides the fact that they had to roll the damn thing deep into the desert and that took a lot longer than intended, it really wasn’t a long process. Vyx just had to let it burn long enough that they could trust nothing was recognizable, and then they could leave. They sighed, lighting a new cigarette off the burning car hood, watching the glittering lights of Vegas dance behind the flames of the burning car, the amber sands of the desert hot red against the orange brightness.

They couldn’t linger, though. Once they were sure the bodies were gone, they had to dip. Vegas was waiting, and the fire would attract cops. But at least they’d learned something about themselves, from it all. That was the most they could hope for.

Their bike hit the pavement twenty minutes later, invisible and back to 100 quickly, zipping away from the remains of the flaming cars before any cops could see it. It would attract attention, and they needed to be far away from it before they did. At least their blood wasn’t left in the backseat, obliterated by the fire. And as they rode off into the darkness of the night and the brightness of the Vegas lights, they exhaled, happily.

Whomever had stopped thinking about Dead Fingers Walking.

[dumblilgeckos]

info post or something??

gbdhsh hi. my name's vyx or vyxian, uh, I don't do well with talking to ppl xoxo. she/her and lesbian,, I don't rlly know anything abt tumblr chat 😔😔. MINORR!1!1! ��

multifandom goober!!: currently fixated on dandys world, prosekai/pjsk and dandadan. i like soul eater, SU, murder drones (YEAHH), TADC, SPTO, Wednesday (netflix), spyxfamily, and others. changes often. I LOVE PROJECT SEKAI AAAH-

i love love loveee character ai 🤑🤑

DO NOT ASK ME TO DONATE STUFF PLS,, I CANT!1!

ermmm boundaries??? (and other random things)

read ig 😝

1.) don't flirt with me!1! ew,,

2.) don't uh talk to me if 17+ 🤷‍♀️ (im skared)

3.) dni: proshippers, general dni stuff (?) augh

4.) dont send me mlp horror im akshually geonna crey,,

5.) pls don't vent in my asks. i mean, ig its fine I just dont often know what 2 saey so i woent be much help💥💥

thats sorta it im not good at this stuff 😓😓😓

[concealeddarkness13]

OC Kiss Week Prompt 2: Rain

Content warning for mentions of suicide. Yeehaw, this is from the Fate Story from Ishnir's perspective! In the middle of the story. Tagging: @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses, @drabbleitout, and @grailfish!

The first thing I felt was the rain pouring down on my face. I was on my back, being held by…someone. My plan had failed. I had let Fate take control of me. And I was…scared to open my eyes and see the destruction I wrought.

But I finally opened my eyes, and…Vyxis was the one holding me. I should have known, his calloused hands were so familiar to me now. I frowned. But this didn’t make any sense. Fate wouldn’t let me from its hold unless it had killed Vyxis, unless the Fated timeline had been restored. “I’m sorry.” I grimaced at how damaged my voice sounded. I tried to bring my hand up to caress his face, but my arm was too shaky, so I just let it fall to the ground again. “I’m sorry I was so selfish. I should have killed myself before Fate took control. I just…” Tears blurred my vision, and I hated myself for them. “I just wanted one more day with you. And my selfishness almost doomed us all.”

Vyx shook his head, his lip quivering, looking terribly uncomposed for the emperor in public. Before I could comment on it, he pulled me close, hugging me tightly. It was against what we had agreed, but I made an exception this once. I had missed him too. I hugged him back tightly, truly feeling comfortable and safe in his arms.

“I’m just so glad you’re back,” he gasped out, and I frowned worse, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

“How did you achieve that? I believed that I wouldn’t be conscious again until you were dead. Fate wouldn’t let go of me so easily.”

“I…had some help.” He glanced behind himself, and I looked too. The rebels who had been fighting against the empire. How had he gotten them to work with him?

I almost asked, but I stopped myself. There would be time for that later. We had time again. I made myself really look him over, even though I just wanted to hug him again. He was gaunt, and there were dark bags under his eyes. He hadn’t been taking care of himself. And how much time did he have before the beast took control?

I held out my hand, and it took a few tries, but a snake made of magic appeared wrapped around my arm. I held it up to him. “You need to eat.”

He looked down at the snake and finally took it and swallowed it. His nails were also too sharp, and he had fangs. He had been too close.

But this also wasn’t the time to tell him he had been too reckless, that he needed to take care of himself more. So, instead, I just held his hand. “I’d…I’d like to hug you again.”

Vyx’s eyes lit up, and he hugged me tightly. I kissed him on the cheek and hugged him back, completely relaxing. We were still fighting against a god, but this wasn’t the time to think about that either. All that mattered was that Vyx was here, and he was safe. We were safe. That was all I cared about.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for pretending I made an AI when I didn't and not giving someone their body back?

So I (m15) am trying my hardest to not be seen as a loser. I am not good at anything. I suck at most things, actually. But not so long ago I discovered a computer that got possessed by this girl's soul (15) and I thought 'Hey, why not pretend I am good at creating an AI?'. I asked the girl if she would help me and she agreed. Let's just call her GS.

So I presented GS to the others as my creation. Everything was good for a while until she got really mean. She said some really fucked up things to B (m15) and J (m11) that made me really sick. I'm not going to repeat what she said, but know that B lost both his legs and sits in a wheelchair and J got his face badly burnt a year ago. She didn't just say that to hurt them as much as possible. Oh no. When I immediately cleared things up, she told me she said it just because it would make them think I created something to hurt them and she was disappointed I wasn't pathetic enough to keep up the ruse. And then she just. Laughed about it.

And then she demanded V (nb15) to give her her life back. Apparently she only agreed to help me because she knew V was here who had stolen her body (I'm sorry if this is misgendering due to this being V's body now. I have no idea how the pronouns work here). Nobody had known that wasn't V's body to begin with btw. So imagine our shock.

Now, V is the nicest person you will ever meet. I don't think it's fair to take vyx body and give it to someone as cruel and vile as GS. I still feel bad about everything that happened tho

AITA?

[thecoffeecrew404]

Other info

bolded-favorites

italics-please use currently

♡ - specific people (ask if you can use pls)

->NAMES

Caffeine ★ Coffee ★ Doll♡ ★ Gold ★ Golden ★ Jester ★ TCC

->HONORIFICS

Archivist 𖤐 Dr♡ 𖤐 Lord♡ 𖤐 Madam♡ 𖤐 Master♡ 𖤐 Mod 𖤐 Mr 𖤐 Mx 𖤐 Sir 𖤐 Vynx 𖤐 Vyx

->TITLES

THE JESTER ✧ The Collector ✧ The Distortion ✧ The Bloodied♡ ✧ The Creator ✧ *The Dancing Demon*♡ ✧ The Endless One ✧ *The Observer*♡ ✧ The Weary

 ✧ 

The Archivist ✧ The Lost ✧ The Many ✧ The Narrator ✧ The Player ✧ The Ultimate Jester♡ ✧ the one who is lost in all that is known♡

 ✧ 

The Faceless Being♡ ✧ One Who Consumes

 ✧ 

Final One ✧ The Brave ✧ The Maze ✧ The One Who Flew ✧ The One Who Makes the Sea Move ✧ The Stars✧ ***The Ringmaster***♡

->PRNS<-

1per (I/me/my/mine/myself)

Fem

Masc

sol/sola/solar/solarine/solarself

Neu

I/me/my/mine/myself ☆ we/us/our/ours/ourself

Inhu

2per(you/you/your/yours/yourself)

Fem

Masc

Neu

thou/thee/thy/thine/thyself ☆ chaos/chaos/chaos'/chaos'/chaoself

Inhu

divine/divine/diviner/diviners/divinerself ☆ mirr/mirr/mirror/mirrors/mirrorself ☆ rage/rage/rages/rages/rageself

3per (xe/xim/xis/xis/ximself)

Fem

moon/moons ☆ fae/faer ☆ bitch/bitchself ☆ honey/honeyself ☆ buns/bunself ☆ elix/elixers/elixerself ☆ star/stars ☆ ser/serp ☆ 🍄/🍄s

Masc

sun/suns ☆ he/him ☆ gri/grim ☆ death/deathself ☆ knife/knifeself ☆ horror/horrorself ☆ scream/screamself ☆ punk/punkself ☆ paw/pawself ☆ rad / rads ☆ sin/sin's ☆ flame/flames ☆ 🔥/🔥s ☆ mag/magma ☆ 🎲/🎲's

Neu

xey/xem ☆ jest/jesters ☆ they/them ☆ thou/thee ☆ ne/neon ☆ pastel/pastelself ☆ moth/mothself ☆ festive/festiveself ☆ max/maxself ☆ chaos/chaoself ☆ tism/tismself/creature/creatureself ☆ anxious/anxiouself ☆ alchemy/achemyself ☆ book/bookself ☆ vy/vym ☆ xd/xds ☆ pix / pixel ☆ skel/skeleton ☆ tri/trick ☆ hoard/hoards ☆ th3y/th3m ☆ :D/:D's

Inhu

it/its ☆ teeth/teeth's ☆ noob/noobs ☆ play/plays ☆ game/games ☆ oof/oofs ☆ bloxy/bloxys ☆ ###/###s☆ jailbreak (jb)/jailbreaks (jbs) ☆ 🎮/🎮s ☆ 🖥️/🖥️s ☆ / s / self ☆ glitch/glitches/glitchself ☆ spi/der ☆ eyes/eyes ☆ skull/skullself ☆ grim/grimreaper/reaperself ☆ web/webself ☆ normal/normalself ☆ 🦷/🦷s ☆ 👁️/👁️s ☆ .exe/.exes ☆ ctrl/ctrls ☆ alt/alts ☆ void/void's ☆ •/•'s ☆ spi/spir ☆ 🕳️/🕳️s ☆ ███/███s

-Terms-

masculine terms

neutral terms

inhuman terms

feminine terms ♡

masculine compliments

neutral compliments

inhuman compliments

feminine compliments♡

[vyxated]

⌜vyx . 24 . any pronouns are cool w/ me ✌️⌟

I am in no way a gameplay blog, but will be posting my sims, screenshots, and share CCs I've made (always free)! Maybe some renders & edits too. I also want to share resources/tutorials/anything cool I found which hopefully will be useful to somebody c:

cc finds . nonsims . art blog . patreon . modthesims

web > navigation . mod resources TOU . downloads . all resources . tutorials . cc wip . wcif general and download ask . reshade ask . rigplus ask my art . all screenshots . sims . scenery

[z4ync]

Yoo. Could we get some nyx and princy fluff headcanons? Please.

THANK YOU. I'm still tweaking out about the entire fire fic I wrote that got deleted.

Headcanons: Nyx and Princy

God I love these two. Don't get me wrong I loved PEN but I'm so happy it's over so I can get more of them and Vyx and captain

Fluff

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

NFWMB by Hozier ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Princy's eyes are so uncanny, like they are golden but the wrong shade, the wrong look of golden.

Nyx still loves to look at them tho

Princy's sneezes are so fucking loud it's not even funny (it makes Nyx cackle)

Princy is always warm, he's heat resistant and doesn't notice the cold

Nyx is always cold, she feels dead

Princy always takes her hands and tries to warm them up.

Nyx could talk for hours about flowers

Nyx's voice is so loud

Princy's is quite

Nyx has the best folklore stories

Princy has the best travel/war stories

Nyx loves princy's hair, for no good reason

Nyx so actually so fire at singing

So is Princy, but he doesn't do it much (only for his sister)

Nyx traces Princy's scars, ask about where they came from

Princy used to never talk about the battles he's fought

Nyx may hate the sunkissed, but their food is just too good

Nyx loves a good cuddle sesh

Princy is just a human pillow

When Princy kisses Nyx he holds her face and hand

He likes reassuring her that it's real and he's not leaving

Princy also ties Nyx's boots, he doesn't let her do it

After the "mine" episode he started calling her "my queen", or "princess"

Nyx has called "king" but it didn't sit right with Princy

Nyx draws Princy when he isn't looking

Princy has been slowly writing a book for his little sister

#1 Mama's boy

Nyx can carry Princy

#1 strong woman lover

Wife man

Nyx lets Princy talk about old stories of his sister

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

A/N. Thank you Anon, I love talking about these two. I just love fantasy tho so yk.

[leidensygdom]

1 for Yxala for the asks?

And maybe 25, 41 and 53 for the twins?

OHHHH these are gonna be fun, thank you! I get to develop Sieg and Vyx a bit 💖

1. What’s the lie your character says most often?

Yxala often lies about her status. She'll pretend she's fine, everything is fine, and she's very much not. She's only more open about things with her partners, which isn't the healthiest thing to do when they both were assumed dead.

She will also deny she's compensating at all times (she IS compensating)

25. What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

Siegmund has a lot of special interests that are rarely of use in the grand scheme of things. Maybe his knowledge on familiars is of use at some point, but his stuff for modelism and gunplas is probably fairly useless. He loves learning and gets obsessed with very specific topics. I'm sure he's the kinda person who got really into something like.... Idk. Jellyfishes. Actually I think he keeps shrimps. Make that Canon now.

Vyxander has a worse attention span, but he's got a lot of love for indie music bands and can probably name hundreds of them by memory. After all, he's a guitar player himself.

41. What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

Siegmund picked much of his vocabulary from his uncle, Mythannae, and later Relent, one of his parents. He's formal and polite. I think he connected more strongly with them both because, well, they share neurodivergencies. Mythannae is mute and communicates with sing language, so Siegmund often does the same when he goes nonverbal or is overwhelmed.

Vyxander picked things from his grandma, Olath'Sol, and when Yxala came back, his admiration for badass mom made him copy her mannerisms HEAVILY. He now curses like a sailor and has so many of her habits.

53. Who would / do they believe without question?

Siegmund will believe their family pretty much without question. This will come in handy for him to accept what happened with Urion being the Onirist (which Uri will explain truthfully). Vyxander refuses to believe that.

However, Vyxander doesn't take that from his family, but is instead very prone to believing friends-' specially if their opinions align with his own. He's prone to seeking echo Chambers.

Both of them will be making friends in college who they'll grow to believe without question, which is gonna be a point of conflict since these people are very opposed to each other!

[literalite]

literalite/724426539313381376 i am so stupid i thought this was a cas screen mod for a whole minute

LMAO ask vyx to make it one see what happens