ameibousa

[ameibousa]

i spent so long away that i have no idea really even how to get started again ;___; feelsbadman. luckily there's a lot of logistic stuff like pages to take care of anyway! i guess for now if you want to plot my ims here are open !

[ameibousa]

hanging out in my carrd tonight and finally putting together proper pages and bios for everyone yaay

[ameibousa]

lazy post bc im sick and tired (literally) but fuck i miss dr armaros that fuckin freak. im throwing him against the wall as we speak. evil man

[ameibousa]

at my id check shift again and i wrote like 1k of just his youth lord helpm

bios: are supposed to be infornative

me writing arnaros: abstract prose time?

[ameibousa]

thinking ab horror au armaros literally haunted by the shell of the man he once loved and who once loved him chefs kiss. need to develop this other man now tood amn

[ameibousa]

sexy sexy bitter ex hitman u r going to be so fun to write........... somehow in some capacity where ur not dead. Or ur undead at least

(WAIT SIDENOTE BRAIN BLAST analog horror au armaros being some sort of catalyst for weird undead happenings hence caleb's wrath selfblessing itself with life and this man perhaps being left dredged around too....some sort of weird anomaly that keeps things tied to the plane)

but ughh the parallels armaros's lack of emotion vs this man's abundance of it....the hitman taking life vs the scientist pursuing eternity...

my third eye opens so wide it splits my forehead as i realize i can make armaros's ex an oc too and stick him in aus

[ameibousa]

running into some hitman group investigating the death of his parents (not necessarily out of revenge but i think one of his fatal flaws is armaros can't just Not Know things) and meeting this man who Compels him. incredibly deeply. a little too deeply. tangoes with him for a time, indulges before remembering how they first met. what this man does for work. gets paranoid, i'm sure — luckily the n109 zone devours bodies.

was trying to work on armaros's backstory and was asking myself questions like hm i wonder why hes so fixated on immortality ahahaha i finally cracked the code.......

[ameibousa]

my third eye opens so wide it splits my forehead as i realize i can make armaros's ex an oc too and stick him in aus

[ameibousa]

Marie Howe, “After the Movie”

[ameibousa]

the rumors about the 6th lads li being some ever engineer or mad scientist guy. okay armaros manifesfation wtf. but i bet he wont even be old 😒 but also like half the fsndom cant even handle caleb sjjdjsjdjjdjsjsj i fear

[ameibousa]

otw home musing ab how i love using bird metaphors and imagery for amaros for so many reasons...firstly most obviously because they can fly and i draw a lot of parallels to for example icarus — set up to fly so high and burn so fast. moreover, you can get suuuper varied with birds. canaries as warnings, subtle as they are. carrion birds like vultures — ominous and also scavengers, utilizing even the dead for themselves. (said neutrally but in literature its useful). ravens, again as omens yet too smart for their own good. birds of prey like hawks; vicious, scouting for vermin for miles. mockingbirds with their imitations. bleeding heart doves for the vibes

i think his myth/fallen god form has wings too but i cant decide what kind....

anyway guess what i found at the bus stop? a cute little perfectly intact feather stuck to a tree at perfect eye height

[ameibousa]

drawing my favorite jojo villains pt 4: risotto nero

[ameibousa]

im sobbing at the idea of my warlock band and oc sleep token having beef in skme au

[ameibousa]

[ameibousa]

reasons im very excited to write vessel: whooo fuckinf talks like this. Me. and also Them

[ameibousa]

bios: are supposed to be infornative

me writing arnaros: abstract prose time?

[ameibousa]

talking to zayne had always been something like looking into a frozen lake; not quite a mirror, too many imperfections, too much mud in the water. still, it makes armaros reflect nonetheless. both ousted at similar times from similar levels of respect; zayne far above the clouds, too far above to appreciate his altitude. those same peers watched in similar confusion as armaros packed his office away with nothing but a word. of course, confidentiality protects him in some ways; a simple ‘fired’ was enough for most people and it was all they were ever going to receive. sulfuric gaze holds steady, studying marble. zayne really did seem lighter now, in some ways; not that the man had ever seemed heavy, flying with ease, but he sees the surety in the set of his jaw; the way even now zayne seems to turn his words over how armaros imagines he examines evidence; carefully, silently - unreadable, even for armaros.

“how lovely.” he takes a sip of his glass, humming, to hide the lilt of his lips, wolf-like. how strange fate was to plot their initial paths during their half-lifes; it feels like some cheap crime novel, to armaros. two of the brightest in their field, with no passion for it. silence, for a time. and then the stage is set, he supposes. “it is a good thing for one to find their calling, is it not? and what a noble one, at that. you must be proud, coroner li. and why would it have taken time overlong? do keep in mind you began early, still like a lamb when you finished your residency. your path may be twisting, but remember your headstart. i’m sure such an exceptional mind will have no problem with this.”

of course, armaros will have to keep up. go home and return to his war table; know thine enemy, and this is an enemy he knows well. it’s a boon and a curse; the police were easy enough to shake, stupid as they were. whatever detectives they initially had on his tail unable to find the gifts armaros left in plain sight with them for fun; he wasn’t afraid, but he could see the board shift. such acts would be tantamount to suicide, now, and he wasn’t quite done racking up points. rats were all well and good to mess with, armaros loved seeing the mass panic brew; gold swallows the dark pelt of the hound before him, hungry, waiting. he’s sure the stench of death hangs heavy on him; it always has. so there’s a distance he has to maintain, at first. to either evade zayne’s nose entirely - far, far away, as boring as it is; humans were the first apex endurance predators, and armaros could wait. was born waiting. and oh, he yearns for more than that, but he can. or he can train the mutt to believe he’s smelling nothing; a bit of rotten flesh here, a sliver of decay there. it won’t be long before the bitch has trouble knowing which limbs are decomposing and which are simply mannequin; fake. of course, for now, armaros will have to wait.

“feelings?” armaros says, chirping - hawklike, observing; razor glint of his beak shining in the sun; teeth curl into a smile. “perhaps not strong, but i suppose they’re present and that’s odd enough. piteous indeed.” the lack of reciprocity washes over him like the tides; this is just passing conversation, after all. to show zayne his talons before they’re deep in flesh is to chase him away. humans used to hunt buffalo; what is a dog to a raptor? “i mean, it evidently wasn’t defense. the scene seemed to have been too clean.” for once, his gaze tears away; back to the tv. it wouldn’t do to mention things only hawks know. “there wasn’t so much as furniture toppled. nor any wounds to the face. anger doesn’t cross me often, but the typical response to passion is typically some sort of facial wound, as that would be a similarly struggling altercation.” armaros shrugs, muscles lax. coy, almost - he’s always been an egotistical man, nothing out of the ordinary. “of course, take what i say with a grain of salt. this is your area of expertise, not mine…though psychology has always been a passion of mine.” he smiles. “and to me, there seems to be much that is deliberate in their movements, despite the evident spiralling mental state. they’re very thorough with the evidence, with the bodies. they all seem to be in similar condition. the removal of the hands is too consistent to be done by an amateur; we’d both know bone can be difficult to cut through, so to be able to do that at every occasion and also any of their own identifying evidence with time to spare for escape speaks to…professionalism, to put it gruesomely. as such, it stands to reason that if they wanted they could potentially obscure their victims’ identities to create even more confusion, if not scatter it so thoroughly it becomes impossible to find one at all. may i speak frankly?” armaros doesn’t wait for an answer, shifting in his seat thoughtfully as he returns his sharp heliodor shards to zayne’s.

long fingers tap the coffee-stained table. tk. tk. tk. “it seems like if the perpetrator wanted to go further under the radar, they would have. they are choosing not to consistently. perhaps if it was only once, i would ignore it. yet it’s a pattern, through and through. they want to be seen, which speaks to a wounded ego in some way. perhaps wounded attachment, instead. i suppose the collected hands also point to either. pathetic and plain as day to me. what other explanations do you have…coroner li?”

a chuckle sings from armaros's lips. a tad bit dissonant if you're in tune, but pleasant enough. the title isn't unfamiliar to his ears, though something about hearing it from zayne had the typically refreshing moniker twisting into something ugly — pulling what wanted to be an ugly sneer into a smile, as kind as he ever gave. distant as he ever was. it was never anything strong enough to name, anyway. "dr. zayne," he said with a nod to the seat that zayne was already sliding into, book closing. "or is it coroner, now? what attracted you to that position, i wonder. either way, same could be said for yourself, mm?"

he scans jade briefly; he doesn't see any surprise on the younger man's features, not even as he dares to peer into ponds of lotus to be sure. people always told him he had an unnerving gaze anyway; may as well use it to take what secrets he can. not that there's much to find here, only still waters. somehow, it makes him grin wider, flash of cheshire. it's not the first time zayne had seen the scene. armaros himself had fled quickly enough — loathe to be caught, confident in his swept-away footsteps. interesting. when he laid his trap he was expecting no more than a mouse, one he could poke and prod before forgetting about. maybe a trophy of some kind, a fox or a raven. instead he finds himself faced with a bloodhound, and if armaros is correct — his very own hound on his trail, one unaware he's close to his own reward. if zayne plays his cards right.

an eyebrow quirked, armaros placing his chin in his hands in mock thought, head cocked. "what makes it disgusting? is it not obvious? i suppose you know it isn't the gore of it — our history would make that laughable." he hums, considering his words. he's curious, now; one of the few things here to perk his attention, remind him of his pulse. he plays with fire, remembering the feeling of his matches in his hands. his heart thrums now the same as it did then; he reminds himself to play it smart, too, but he can't help but briefly indulge the excitement. his tongue clicks, face falling flat. "but to lose yourself to such primal thoughts and urges? all over...what, an ego? especially when violence is already rising..." armaros trails off with a lazy shrug. "but perhaps that's all the more reason, right? psychology tells us so, it's a question that answers itself despite the ugly emotions events like this cause."