neptunian-aphonia

[neptunian-aphonia]

dojiryu

FOR  SUCH  A  BLUNT-LOOKING  woman,  her  name  was  certainly  pretty.  it  wasn’t  to  say  that  she  wasn’t–closer,  now,  and  given  more  freedom  to  examine  her,  she’s  strikingly  handsome  under  those  mood  lights,  charmingly  shy.  kiryu  lets  it  bead  on  his  tongue  and  pearl  around  his  thoughts,  akari.  her  accent  catches  his  attention,  though  he  makes  little  outward  recognition  of  it–at  first  he  thinks  kansai,  but  on  the  next  note,  the  clarity  of  origin  becomes  more  clear  to  him:  okinawa.  must  be.  kiryu  had  been  considering  leaving  tokyo  and  taking  up  residence  in  okinawa  with  haruka–the  rolling  sea  waves  and  hot,  humid  sands  paired  with  the  comfort  of  quiet,  rural  country  life  had  begun  to  appeal  more  and  more  to  him  as  time  went  on,  his  ties  to  kamurocho  (a  city  he  loved  and  hated  both,  the  snake  den  that  it  was,  ran  rampant  with  memories  that  seemed  to  be  all  slathered  in  blood,  now)  burning  beneath  him  like  rickety  bridges.  the  year  prior  had  stolen  quite  a  bit  from  him–including  his  desire  to  submerge  himself  in  the  iniquity  ever-present  in  kamurocho.  

he  tucks  those  longings  away  for  another  time;  if  she  frequented  club  adam  in  the  future,  it  would  be  a  good  place  to  get  the  ball  of  conversation  rolling.  tonight  was  about  her,  and  creating  the  footpath  to  companionship.   kiryu  certainly  wasn’t  any  professional,  but  he’d  learned  enough  from  managing  fourshine,  and  watching  his  coworkers  before  he’d  been  shoved  into  the  fray  of  host  work  himself;  he  was  projecting  himself  in  an  open  and  comforting  way  for  the  benefit  of  others. ‘  it’s  a  pleasure.  thank  you  for  attending  club  adam. ‘

their  eyes  meet–that  look!  akari’s  gaze  retreats  quickly  to  the  polished  wood,  and  the  smile  that  meets  kiryu’s  lips  is  tentative,  but  genuine.  ‘ of  course,  akari-san.  ‘  polite  as  ever.  kiryu’s  dedication  to  subservience–though  feigned  for  his  betters  at  one  time,  stubborn  and  bullish–paid  off  here. ‘  well..  you’re  free  to  choose  what  you’d  like–  ‘  the  sales  point  wasn’t  why  kiryu  had  let  himself  be  saddled  by  this  job,  temporary  or  otherwise,   ‘  –but  all  newcomers  are  given  a  free  bottle  of  shochu.  what  you’d  like  to  mix  it  with  is  up  to  you.  personally  ..   ‘ he  gestures  toward  the  laminate,  around  the  middle  of  the  listings.   ‘ i  think  the buckwheat  shochu  and  orange  is  pretty  good.  the old  fashioned  samurai.  ‘

shiokawa makes something of a considering trill, low and rough as it thrums in her throat, eyes following kiryu's motion and flicking from brand to brand. briefly she glances up to his face as he talks, and finds herself rather pleasantly surprised by his smile. often she found ways to pick out doubtful things from a man's face and words… but kiryu seemed one of those types to wear his heart on a sleeve. that's what her gut told her, anyway. 

it helped that, even though he had passengers, keeping her hair standing on end and invoking a faint but present chill in the pit of her stomach, they had the air of... something positive. warm. and, moving on from supernatural to mundane, maybe even he was nervous too? the thought certainly had her relaxing, invisible tension leaving the slopes of her shoulders that she had barely registered until it was gone.

or, the paranoid corner of her mind hisses, he's just fooling you. not exactly the hardest thing to do.

then again, she supposed she came here to be fooled-- at least to some extent. hosts tended to have exaggerated personas, after all, right? It's not like she didn't sign up for it. thinking that nonsense was a bit silly, wasn't it? and it felt good to shut down those venomous thoughts before they came to completion, or even worse inadvertently came to pass through her own actions, and ended up poisoning the whole night. she so did not need to be self-sabotaging, especially when she was trying to have a good time.

shochu would be… real nice. ‘’ mmm… that does sound good, but-- ‘’ she interjects her own sentence with an almost uncharacteristic seeming, ' ooh~! ', edging higher in her range of pitch and getting a reedy quality to it, though that perhaps only emphasized her excitement, when otherwise rather stoically shy. as her finger slides a few lines lower, she flashes kiryu a slightly lopsided half-smile, ‘’ i'm partial to the barley shochu and fuji apple myself-- you ever had it, kazuma-kun? i just can't get enough'a that mix of sweet vanilla, the nuttiness of barley, th’ apple... ‘’

she tilts her head to the side in thought, humming quietly, before patting the menu in a light slap, hand splaying out and casually displaying the tattoos inked on it. ‘’ how about both! i got paid recently, might as well have a ' treat myself night.' ‘’ her head quirks the other way, and her brow twitches into a playful arch. ‘’ 'course, i've gotta treat my wonderful ol' host too, eh? ‘’

an almost awkward beat passes, and she swallows. a sort of crack in her otherwise unflappable confidence, when faced with the non-euclidean forms and shapes of city societal norms. ‘’ do, ah-- do i order? or... do ya? ‘’

[neptunian-aphonia]

dojiryu

@neptunian-aphonia

SHE  ISN’T  THE  KIND  of  patron  club  adam  sees  on  the  regular.  thick  and  strong,  kiryu’s  face  gives  no  passive  collection  of  surprise  when  he’s  seated  at  the  plush  of  their  shared  couch,  but  thoughts  of  her  occupation  breed  quickly  at  the  forefront  of  his  mind.  frankly,  its  refreshing–sweet  smelling  girls  with  small  teeth  and  delicate  hands  and  tiny  waists  who  touched  and  grabbed  and  squeezed  at  every  meaty  part  of  him  they  could  find  were  well  enough,  usually  with  no  ill  intent,  but  the  variety  was  exciting.  he  wasn’t  a  man  of  pointless  gossip,  and  shared  no  ills  with  other  hosts–but  he  would  remember  her,  he  was  sure,  even  if  she  didn’t  choose  him  again.  

‘ onegaishimasu.  ‘   the  tip  of  his  shoulders  is  polite  and  in  form.   ‘  i’m  kazuma. ‘

shiokawa’s stumped as to why, exactly, she came here. it really wasn’t the sort of establishment she thought she’d ever step foot into; not being one to ogle at anybody, man or woman, and an even worse conversationalist than she was a flirt. after much pondering and pointed ignoring of her craving for companionship, she ends up with the excuse that she just wanted to ‘try it out’, which was really only a sort of half-excuse. she’d never been to a host club before, and she wouldn’t lie and say her curiosity didn’t get piqued whenever she’d amble by a place like Stardust and feel the pounding beat of music, see the giggling girls and boys filing in and out, sparkling with glitz and glitter and glam...

yeah. she was just curious. it wasn’t like she was too lonely, that she needed to pay somebody to keep her company. yeah, not that at all.

her thoughts derail when she notices kiryu-- feeling him more before she sees him. it’s like a tang in the air, an aura, a warm electric sensation that puts the hair on her neck on end. her eyes twitch up to meet his, in an intense and hawkish gaze that seems to peer past, or through, him. it’s the kind of unsettling look that might make you want to glance over your shoulder, as if they were staring at somebody just behind you when you know no one else is there. and almost as quickly, she looks away, as if shying from a bright light. whatever passengers he had with him, she couldn’t quite see-- but all the same they were blinding to her mind’s eye.

‘’ haisai. ‘’ she returns his greeting with a small bow, inclining her head politely, gaze still cast down, feigning interest in the lacquered wood. she leans back into her relaxed, casual stance, elbow resting on the table and her chin cradled by her palm. ‘’ i’m akari. s’nice to meet you, kazuma-kun. ‘’ 

her brow quirks up, and cautiously she chances looking more closely at kiryu after that initial shock, eyes drifting up and down the well-cut silhouette he struck. atypical as she was to the usual customer, she noted how against the mold he was as well; rough and rugged, a bit older than the dime a dozen baby-faced pretty boy, thickly muscled and carried with an air of dangerous confidence... she couldn’t help but be quietly intrigued as to why a guy that looked like a world class prizefighter was working at a place like club adam.

with an almost wry half-smile, she glances down towards the menu. she brushes a broad, inked finger across the laminated words. ‘’ i’ll have’ta be honest with ya, kazuma-kun, i’m going t’need you to guide me through this. i’ve never been to a host club before. might need a good drink to handle all these nerves... ‘’

[neptunian-aphonia]

heyyy lads, i have a testosterone appointment at a hospital about half an hour away from home on the 10th of march, but i don’t have transportation means. my dad isn’t willing to take me, so i need to use an uber (idfk how to use the bus system and i dont have a bus card.) i have about 20 dollars in my paypal, but its about 20 there, and another 20 back. could anybody help me with the return trip fee? i owe other art commissions right now that come first, but i would be willing to do art or icons or graphics in return for any donation, so long as you’re really lax / patient with my return rate. thank you so much! my paypal is hghars@aol.com or paypal.me/knifeofdunwall, and i have a cashapp if its more convenient. please im me here if you can help so i can work out repayment.

[neptunian-aphonia]

dojiryu

HE  SHOULDN’T  HELP.  HE  REALLY  SHOULDN’T—but  kiryu  feels  something  itchy  inside  him,  needling  away  like  chalk  marks  on  a  green  board,  and  his  exhale  is  tenuously  resigned.  he  had  accepted  a  long  time  ago  that  if  he  failed  to  act,  it  might  mean  no  one  ever  would.  he  didn’t  have  the  time  for  this–but  it  would  be  a  betrayal  to  his  morals  to  willfully  ignore  the  distress  he’d  created  alone.  

to  kiryu,  it  was  like  a  cognitive  dissonance  had  been  created;  in  total  honesty,  he  had  hardly  noticed  what  the  man  was  adorned  in,  the  creeping  scars  peering  from  beneath  thick  gauze.  he  was  more  concerned  with  the  circumstance  he’d  created,  and  the  man  himself,  than  his  startling  appearance.  kiryu  decides  then  to  crouch  down  and  pluck  the  crinkled  poppo  bag  up  from  the  street,  if  only  to  puff  it  open  with  the  force  of  a  delicate  swing,  reaching  with  the  other  to  collect  one  of  the  numerous  mandarins  from  the  street.  he  has  even  the  courtesy  to  wipe  the  outer  skin  on  his  thigh,  smoothing  away  some  detritus  and  allowing  it  instead  to  work  into  the  pinstripes  of  his  slacks.  

‘  yeah.  i’m  fine.  you  just  – ‘ in  the  beat  between  retrieving  the  strangers  scattered  goods,  kiryu  waves  his  hand  up  around  his  head  like  some  kind  of  crank  siren,  though  there  is  no  sound  but  the  soft  ruffle  of  fabric.   ‘  ..  there  are  some  guys  after  me,  and  you  kind  of  looked  like  you  might’ve  been  one  of  them. ‘   well,  that  was  a  simplification  of  the  matter–the  dojima  family  was a  hell  of  a  lot  more  pressing  than  mister  shakedown,  but  he  could  be  counted  among  the  leagues  of  enemies  he’s  suddenly  fostered  in  kamurocho,  he  supposed.  it  felt  like  it’d  happened  over  night,  and  in  a  sense,  kiryu  supposed  it  had. ‘  some  of  them  are  really  big  guys,  shaking  people  down  for  what  they’ve  got.  don’t  really  know  why. ‘

rory blinks. simply, he watches for a moment, eyes trailing after the bag as it's swung gently around, caught off-guard by the other man’s show of compassion. something like sheepish guilt tickles at the back of his head, and so he crouches down with a creak of old, worn knees, beginning to pick things up alongside kiryu; blind side facing the other in a small show of idle trust. gathering several mandarins in one, rather ridiculously large hand, he listens with a growing frown. indeed, he’d seen those guys around town as well-- had been shocked at first, to find men rivaling his size... and, to even further astonishment, trying to shake rory down for cash. 

his mind wanders farther as he thinks on that and glances to kiryu, realizing with a small jolt that he was.. well... rory didn’t want to think of the young man as a boy, but he certainly was a young man. some sort of chasm opens up within his mind at the realization, towards which a slippery slope of paternal thoughts and sympathetic feelings led into. his jaw works for a moment, the tendons of his neck briefly standing out like steel cords, and he opens his mouth to speak, while holding his hand out for kiryu to drift the bag underneath for him to deposit the oranges. he tries to catch his eyes.

‘’ the hell’d you do, kid? i’ve seen’em shakin’ people down... but it seems like somebody'd have to do something special for those guys to gun after them specifically. ‘’ gauze wrinkles again as his brow twitches and attempts to free itself from the medical tape to adequately convey his curiosity, and something vaguely concerned enters the rumble of his voice-- such a tone that it nearly asked all by itself: do you need help. rory never could help that bleeding heart of his; that soft part of him ( which was most of him ) always had him wanting to help every wayward soul he crossed paths with. especially when that trouble was, supposedly, caused by some assholes who got too big for their britches. a rusty awareness then belatedly informs him that he was talking to a virtual stranger, and he suddenly feels a little silly, and even a little rude. as an afterthought, almost backtracking, he adds, ‘’  ...if, ah, i may be so bold to ask. ‘’

[neptunian-aphonia]

dojiryu

@neptunian-aphonia

THUNK!  OW! fuck!   kiryu  stutters  backward,  thwarted  by  the  bodily  impression  of  that  massive  man–he  isn’t  a  man  who  gives  easily,  but  damn  if  he  didn’t  catch  him  off  guard.  the  white  in  his  suit  scuffs  a  dark  spot  where  his  back  smacks  into  the  nearest  wall,  and  kiryu  eagerly  pulls  himself  off  it,  glaring  up  through  the  lowering  sun  and  dancing  neons  that  start  to  appears  like  swimming  dots  (open!  closed!)  around  the  skyline  of  his  vision.  he’s  big.  he’s  really  big.  

‘  ….  are  you  one  of  those  guys?–  ‘   shaking  yen  down  from  unsuspecting  passerbys,  who  had  claimed  vendetta  against  him;  kiryu  couldn’t  be  sure.  tension  springs  up  at  his  brow,  migrating  snake-like  to  the  valley  of  his  shoulders.   ‘  i  didn’t  mean  to  bump  into  you.  sorry.  ‘

a small breath of air gets sucked inward in quiet surprise. mandarins bounce to the asphalt and roll a short distance, along with a few other miscellaneous grocery items. the hulking man is frozen with tension, fist curling tightly around the crinkling plastic of a Poppo bag, eye snapped wide and pupil constricted to a pinprick, as if he was expecting attack. the moment quickly passes, though, and he relaxes by degrees, gaze darting from the fallen oranges to the glaring man, trying to decide what to address first. he chooses turning fully to kiryu, letting the now empty bag fall to the ground for the moment. thick gauze creases as his brows knit together, pads taped haphazardly up and down the left side of his face. he looks rather carved up, with old, gnarled scars and fresher gashes peeking out from beneath bandages and dressings, stitched up and butterflied.

‘’ u-uh-- ‘’ he’s taken aback by the question, mind running through the different potential kinds of ‘guy’ he could be; and at the same time, sizing up the smaller man. that garish suit? that look in his eye? written all over his posture..? he’s no fool, he’s had run-ins with yakuza thugs. ..rory doesn’t want trouble, though. maybe on any other day, he’d be itching for a fight. but he likes to think he’s all fought out right now. he has his countenance draw into something humorously sheepish, at odds with the imposing form he cuts. ‘’ no, no, i think that was my fault! i, ah, ‘’ his rumbling voice goes light in a two-note, self-deprecating laugh, hand reaching up to brush against the gauze on his eye for emphasis, ‘’ didn’t see you. are you alright? ‘’

[neptunian-aphonia]

‘ For in tremendous extremities human souls are like drowning men; 

well enough they know they are in peril; well enough they know 

the  causes of that peril;

–nevertheless,the sea is the sea, and these drowning men do drown. ‘ 

indie, fandomless OCs, penned by Cabot.

[neptunian-aphonia]

Rory has a bit of a fear of deep water, which is more or less perfectly reasonable because he can’t really swim-- in all his verses he just never really learned, and is also kind of just one of those people that can’t really float (thick bones babey). In his sci-fi and fantasy verses, he’s actually too dense to legitimately swim, even if he knew how. poor guy sinks like a stone. thankfully, his lung capacity is ridiculous, and he can hold his breath for a very long time.

[neptunian-aphonia]

nice lil sketches of the newest addition to the muse list: qanosh! and he clothes :>

some biology notes, for those interested:

qanosh’s species are colloquially known as belters, due to their planet belonging to a solar system in the Orion’s Belt constellation

pretty much all their fingers but their middle two have ball and socket joints, giving a ridiculous range of flexibility.

they’re arboreal, and ambush predators, for the most part! though their trees are so big branches could often be comparable to roads. nonetheless, this leads to them being able to move in quick bursts, but they aren’t built for pursuing over long distances. them legs’re made fer climbin’ not gallopin’.

the nasal cavity of a belter is not an external set of nostrils, but instead a spot in the roof of the mouth that both sends out and receives scents and pheromones. these pheromones are used in their language to define the tones and pronunciation of words, which is why when qanosh speaks Human, he can tend to sound flat. this also means they can, with a bit of practice, pick up the rudimentary scents humans often give off with emotional responses. though it isn’t an airtight way to read their emotional state/tell if they’re lying, of course.

belters do not perceive the common light wavelengths as we think of them. instead, they see lifeforms and the energy they give off, typically believed to be detection of the electrical pulses of a creature’s nervous system, or something along those lines anyway. different lifeforms can tend to give off different colors; in a place like a human city or dungeon cell it is seen as very dark, drab, and gray. it is a common misconception that this way of sight allows the belters to see lifeforms THROUGH objects, which is not true.

belter eyes look ‘blank’ and ‘glow’ at most angles because they have structures similar to tapetum lucidum (what create things such as a cat or a dog’s “eye glow”), as well as several protective lenses to guard these sensitive layers against bright light.

to make up for their odd sight, the ears of a belter is not so much an ear as a complex, inwards formation that can detect tiny oscillations when a sound wave hits and bounces off an object. they will instinctively recognize the differences in the miniscule vibrations, and be able to tell what that object is from the “sound” of it. However, they do not have “super hearing.” rather, their ears are specifically specialized to hear these tiny vibrations, but in other regards more or less hear the same as a human- though they can hear frequencies somewhat lower than the range of a human’s.

their blood is iridium-based, as compared to the human iron-based blood; as such, their blood is capable of binding to both oxygen and hydrogen, and can subsist off of atmospheres composing mostly of either without the other, after spending some time adjusting. 

because of the, comparatively, lessened effectiveness of iridium versus iron, their respiratory system has evolved to something more convoluted to better transport it to make up for it-- being a complex set of “air tubes,” with their analog to the lungs serving more as central air pumps to move it all around-- in conjunction with a set of twin hearts for ease o’ pumpin’.

this weird lung situation had them develop armored “rib plates” that sacrifice flexibility for protection, as they don’t need their chests to expand the way humans do. this creates a bit of a universal barrel chest and snatched waist look, though of course like any other animal/species they’ve got diversity in their body types.

a caveat to having iridium based blood is that iridium is photosensitive. on their home, this isn’t too much of a problem, as the belters evolved to have dark, UV-resistant skin and live under extremely dense canopies. however, when on planets such as Earth, with a source of unblocked bright light, or on space stations with constant sources of artificial light, the iridium in their blood will start to decay after prolonged exposure. which leads to a condition a bit like if anemia and sepsis had an ungodly child. to combat this, they have developed protective suits and very nice sunscreen.

a plus to this light sensitive blood nonsense: it changes colors when it decays! lmao

in the veins their blood is bright ass yellow, and outside it is a vibrant orange. as it decays, it will go from a duller orange, to green, and finally to a deep bluish-black.

in general, the belter homeworld is bombarded constantly by heavy UVs (having two suns: a blue star in similar size to our own and a red dwarf, which is the main source of all them ‘youvees’) so their skin tones are always dark; though in the time since they became space faring, paler tones that’re technically disadvantageous mutations have popped up.

this also caused them to develop a three stomach situation, so they can filter out UV radiation from prey and squeeze out every nutrient they can get.

[neptunian-aphonia]

shiokawa is, by and far, a very distrusting individual. paradoxically, though, she craves companionship, and seeks it. she puts on a prickly exterior, but will also put down whatever she’s doing to help somebody in need, too compassionate and nice deep down to deny giving aid... even if she complains about it the whole time. for most of her life, she’s lived with people held at a distance from herself, only close to her family-- as they knew about and understood her sort of sixth sense-- and, after a long time of warming up to him, her husband. she didn’t love him, necessarily... but she came to consider him a friend. yet he betrayed that trust and affection she held for him, ultimately and utterly. since then she has tried, here and there, to kindle a relationship again. unfortunately they just end up as flings, as either she or them have to move on due to life, or, she forces herself to move on.

[neptunian-aphonia]

OK BUT HEAR ME OUT: Ares TRYING to throw hands with Rory, only for him to look down at her and fuckin l a u g h because GOD SHE'S SHORT compared to him

he’s just gonna be holdin her back with a hand on her head n she’ll be flailing angrily and he’s lookin at her like :\ 

she is david and he is goliath except he just wants to talk about this but she will take no prisoners, especially no tree lookin’ ass, giant bein’ ass prisoners

[neptunian-aphonia]

WHAT’S YOUR SOCIAL LINK ?

for roryyyyy~

PRIMARY: THE STRENGTH.

“ The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. Only with strength can one endure suffering and torment. " The Strength Arcana symbolizes an imagery beyond the Beast And Beauty, and is associated with the morality about the stronger power of self-control, gentleness, courage and virtue over brute force. It can also represent creative or physical energy that needs to be or is about to be unleashed, sometimes out of desire to be recognized. You have an intense strength of the heart. You are not upset easily and typically portray fortitude.

SECONDARY: THE HANGED MAN.

“ The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. In the face of disaster lies the opportunity for renewal. " The Hanged Man Arcana is associated with self-sacrifice for the sake of enlightenment, the bindings that makes one free, paradoxes and hanging between heaven and earth. You should take the time necessary to reflect over one's upcoming actions. You are sometimes self-sacrificial, but are more often notable for being caught between two different extremes, parties or stages in life.

TERTIARY: THE PRIESTESS.

“ The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. The silent voice within one's heart whispers the most profound wisdom. " The Priestess is a symbol of hidden knowledge or other untapped power, wisdom, mystery and patience. Usually quiet, reserved, and very intelligent. Often modest and shy, and won't open up easily to others.

tagged by: @medisinal

tagging: feel free to steal! :3c

[neptunian-aphonia]

               a WOLF is a WOLF.

                                               even in a CAGE.

                                                                         even dressed in SILK.

[neptunian-aphonia]

But people don’t like when you put up a fight

And slowly                     ever so slowly                                             I am losing mine

[neptunian-aphonia]

                      PUNCH YOUR LIGHTS OUT !                       HIT THE PAVEMENT !

                                                       THAT’S WHAT I CALL ENTERTAINMENT !

[neptunian-aphonia]

rory tidbits!

his home life was nice! rory was the youngest of four (two brothers and a sister) and they all had a great relationship with each other. his parents were very kind, supportive people-- though they would always get disappointed and be like ‘smh’ when they caught rory nicking food.

he’s mixed! his mother was japanese, and his father black/white (specifically w/ scottish heritage).

in his sci-fi verse (which is sorta his default verse, bc he was originally made as a character in a sci-fi world), he’s sort of albino, because the station he grew up on had shitty artificial UV and no sun to speak of-- thus he wasn’t able to produce melanin properly in his formative years. when he does get some sun/uv exposure, he tans quickly into his natural skin tone, and his vitiligo becomes apparent. regardless, he’s v freckly :>

he, in any verse, was part of military-- quickly making his way up the ranks through brutal efficiency, his superiors essentially molding him into an obedient hound. he was also volunteered for experiments, much to his chagrin, though at the time he didn’t dare argue. and after a long time, he realized he fucked up he was getting and stopped being a bootlicker and now hates the military as an institution.

he eats a lot and runs hot, because his metabolism is still fast, even as an older guy-- in his sci-fi verse, it runs, in fact, unnaturally fast. the only exception is his fantasyish self, as he’s essentially a frankenstein’s monster, and usually feels rather cool to the touch, though not quite as much as a corpse. his metabolism will ramp up, though, when he gets that adrenaline pumpin.

he has PTSD, from a combination of exposure to war/active combat, and being experimented on.

also has depression. his self-esteem is awfully low, and it’s sort of been a constant his whole life.

has been married once, and divorced. his wife was named brenda, middle name karen, and i think that’s all you need to see why fjksdhj

more seriously, she was very manipulative; as well as emotionally and mentally abusive, and all too happy to take advantage of his rock bottom self-esteem.

he had three children: two daughters, butch and quinn, and a son, oliver. brenda won custody over them, but he still tries to be in their lives as much as possible.

he really, really likes motorcycles. in the fantasyish verse, it’s horses/mounts.

he thinks he’s... not very smart. didn’t do too well in school, and teachers/school staff were all too quick to treat him as just a Big Stupid Boy. really, he’s fairly intelligent-- he just doesn’t have much a mind for traditional book learning. 

[neptunian-aphonia]

medisinal

GIVING  HIM  A  BERTH  TO  ENTER her  humble  cottage (small  and  delicate  in  comparison  to  the  tepes’  great  halls–but  she  loves  both  in  their  own  ways),  lisa  carefully  shuts  the  door  behind  him,  retreating  to  a  wall  mounted  candle  in  order  to  bring  the  flame  on  buds  of  wax  to  a  cleaner  light  at  her  examination  table,  finely  laid  with  tools  and  materials.  it  felt  the  same  to  her  as  setting  a  dining  hall  for  a  meal–an  unconscious,  ingratiated  preparation.  lisa  needs  not  ask  the  problem–she  spies  it  as  soon  as  her  eyes  fall  to  his  gripping  hand,  a  poor  tourniquet  to  the  bloody  wound  sealed  against  his  coat,  but  something  was  better  than  nothing,  at  least.

‘  come  now,  there’s  very  little  that  i  have  not  seen. ‘   perhaps  not  all  with  her  own  eyes–there  was  much  she’d  experienced  like  a  second  layer  of  skin,  passed  from  his  breath  to  hers,  an  entangle  of  mysteries  dracula  had  given  her  to  parse  because  she’d  wanted  to  know–but  she’d  seen  enough  from  her  own  patients,  too,  infection  and  pain  and  complications,  and  found  that  she  scared  hardly  at  all.  lisa  scans  the  room  until  she  locates  the  rickety  shelf  that  held  her  disposables, gliding  across  the  floorboards  to  remove  gauze  and  thick  strips  of  cloth. ‘  i’m  here  to  help  you,  oddities  aside.  i  promise  you  that–i  would  not  turn  you  away. ‘

the  basin  of  water  is  fresh.  she  pulls  the  silver  bowl  close  to  her  and  shoves  out  a  chair  with  the  dip  of  her  boot.   ‘  please,  sit.  when  did  you  acquire  the  injury,  sir?  ‘

a ghost of a grimace creases his brows as his eyes skate across the medical implements laid across the table like well-cared for cutlery, and some peculiar anxiousness lines faintly the angles of his body, makes him move slow and rigid-- lingers his step. lisa’s reassurances do him a great comfort, and thinking himself quite ridiculous to hesitate when he was the one that came here, he sighs out a calming exhalation and clears the rest of the way to the chair. he undoes the clasps on his coat and shrugs out of it-- carefully, as he doesn’t want to swipe anything off the table, lest he mortify himself with the accidental clatter of things to the floor. he’d certainly done it before, enough to last him a lifetime-- and then drapes it neatly on the back of the chair.

‘’ that’s a relief to hear, honestly... i’ve had my share of wise women and men that fancy themselves doctors, ah... turning me away. ‘’ lowering himself into a sit with a grunt, a quiet crack of old knees, and the creak of the poor chair saddled with his, uh, prodigious weight, he busies his fingers with the buttons of his shirt, albeit with that same tentativeness he’s been carrying in his gestures thus far. his eyes flick up to the silver bowl, then to her, at her question. ‘’ a few hours... mmmh.. eight, ten or so, perhaps?.. regrettably, it took me a bit to get here, even with me double-timing it. ‘’

the casualness, the lackadaisicalness he admits it with is a tad concerning, to be frank; as he doesn’t speak as if he is injured, but rather, he is here for maintenance on a damaged object in his possession. 

without provocation he continues onward, breaching the subject of how it happened, assuming that to be the next question. ‘’ usually i’m more careful in fights, but, as they say: a moment of distraction is all that’s needed. ‘’ disarmingly, he laughs a two-note, breathy chuckle. beneath the high collar of his shirt, he swallows-- the bob of his adam’s apple shifting a peculiar line of stitching. thick and taut thread spanning his neck, visible across his throat in the space opened up by undone buttons. ‘’ it’s an occupational hazard, so i suppose i can’t be too mad about it. ‘’

[neptunian-aphonia]

I am MINE      before I am ANYONE elses