#Alaric ( visage )

[debaxchery]

name: alaric davenport. // age: 30. // gender: cis male. // pronouns: he/him. // romantic: panromantic. // sexual: pansexual. // position: dominant. // occupation: prince. // faceclaim: leo suter. // for: @milkteethss.

biography coming later !

[starliitstories]

[fairuzfan]

19 October 2023: In Gaza, we have grown accustomed to war

Horrific experiences of death and destruction have permanently impacted Palestinians’ culture, language and collective memory. “Is it war again?” asks my little Amal, 7, memories of the previous Israeli assaults still fresh in her mind.

The wording of the question shows the maturity she has been forced to develop. Last year, Amal asked her mum if it was “another war.”

Yes, it is war again in Gaza! In Gaza, we have grown accustomed to war. War has become a recurrent reality, a nightmare that won’t go away. A brutal normality. War has become like a grumpy old relative, one that we can’t stand but can’t rid ourselves of either.

The children pay the heaviest price. A price of fear and nonstop trauma that is reflected in their behaviors and their reactions. It’s estimated that over 90 percent of Palestinian children in Gaza show signs of trauma. But also, specialists claim there is no post-war trauma in Gaza as the war is still ongoing.

My grandmother would tell me to put on a heavy sweater because it would rain. And it would rain! She, like all Palestinian elders, had a unique sense, an understanding of the earth, wind, trees and rain. The elders knew when to pick olives for pickling or for oil. I was always envious of that.

Sorry, Grandma. We have instead become attuned to the vagaries of war. This heavy guest visits us uninvited, unwelcomed and undesired, perches on our chests and breaths, and then claims the lives of many, in the hundreds and thousands.

A Palestinian in Gaza born in 2008 has witnessed seven wars: 2008–2009, 2012, 2014, 2021, 2022, 2023A and 2023B. And as the habit goes in Gaza, people can be seven wars old, or four wars old. My little Amal, born in 2016, now holds a BA in wars, having lived through four destructive campaigns. In Gaza, we often speak about wars in terms of academic degrees: a BA in wars, an MA in wars, and some might humorously refer to themselves as PhD candidates in wars.

Our discourse has significantly changed and shifted. At night, when Israel particularly intensifies the bombardment, it’s a “party”: “The party has begun.” “It will be a horrific party tonight.” And then there is “The Bag,” capital T and capital B. This is a bag that is hurriedly prepared to contain the cash, the IDs, the birth certificates and college diplomas. The aim is to grab the kids and one item when there is a threat of evacuation.

The collective memories and culture of Palestinians in Gaza have been substantially impacted by these horrific experiences of war and death. Most Gazans have lost family members, relatives, or loved ones or have had their homes damaged or destroyed. It’s estimated that these wars and the escalations between them have claimed the lives of over 9,000 (it was 7,500 when I started drafting this last week!) Palestinians and destroyed over 60,000 housing units.

Death and war. War and Death. These two are persona non grata, yet we can’t force them to leave. To let us be.

Palestinian poet Tamim Al-Barghouti summarizes the relationship between death and the Palestinians that war brings (my translation):

It was not wise of you, Death, to draw near.

It was not wise to besiege us all these years.

It was not wise to dwell this close,

So close we’ve memorized your visage

Your eating habits

Your time of rest

Your mood swings

Your heart’s desires

Even your frailties.

O, Death, beware!

Don’t rest that you tallied us.

We are many.

And we are still here

[Seventy] years after the invasion

Our torches are still alight

Two centuries

After Jesus went to his third grade in our land

We have known you, Death, too well.

O, Death, our intent is clear:

We will beat you,

Even if they slay us, one and all.

Death, fear us,

For here we are, unafraid.

23 October 2023: Five stages of coping with war in Gaza

Our familiarity with war in Gaza has led us to develop a unique perspective and unique coping mechanisms.

We can identify five major emotional stages that Gazans go through during these grim conflicts. The stages are denial, fear, silence, numbness, hope, despair and submission.

This is day 16 and Israel has killed more than 5,000 Palestinians (many are still unaccounted for under the rubble), including over 2,000 Palestinian children, Gaza authorities tell us. More than 15,000 were injured and over 25,000 Palestinian homes were destroyed. And Israel says it is ready for ground invasion.

Stage one: Denial

In the early stages of a crisis, there is often a sense of denial. We convince ourselves that this time won’t lead to war. People are tired of the recurring conflicts, and both sides may appear too preoccupied to engage in warfare. As missiles fall and soar, we maintain a form of partial denial, hoping that this time will not be as lengthy or devastating as past wars.

No, this time it’s not going to be war. Everyone is tired of wars. Israel is too busy to go to war.

Palestinians are too exhausted and too battered to engage in a war. It could just last five days, give or take, we hope.

Stage two: Fear

Soon, denial turns to fear as the reality of another war sets in. Gaza is paralyzed as civilians, including children, are attacked by Israeli bombs. The pictures and videos of massacres, of homes obliterated with the families inside, of high rise buildings toppled like dominoes turn the denial into utter terror.

Every strike, especially at night, means all the children wake up crying and weep. As parents, we fear for our kids and we fear we can’t protect our loved ones.

Stage three: Silence and numbness

This is when Israel particularly intensifies the bombing of civilian homes. Stories are interrupted. Prayers are cut short. Meals are left uneaten. Showers are abandoned.

Therefore, amid the chaos and danger Israel brings, many in Gaza, especially children, withdraw into silence. They find solace in solitude as means of coping with the overwhelming emotion and uncertainty that surrounds them. Silence prevails.

Then numbness follows. As people attempt to protect themselves from the constant onslaught of distressing news, they grow indifferent. Because we could die anyway, no matter where we go. Emotional numbness sets in, as individuals attempt to detach from their emotions to survive.

Stage four: Hope

In the midst of despair, glimmers of hope may emerge. Even in the darkest moments, Gazans may hold onto the belief Israel might at least kill fewer people, bomb fewer places, and damage less. The most hopeful of us wish for a lasting ceasefire or an end to the siege or even the occupation. But this is merely hope. And hope is dangerous.

We hope that politicians will man up. We hitch our hope to the masses taking to the streets to reassure their politicians and warn they will be punished in future elections if they support Israeli aggression against Palestinians in Gaza.

Stage five: Despair and submission

Unfortunately, hope can often be fleeting, and many Gazans have experienced recurring cycles of despair. The repeated loss of life, homes and security lead to deep feelings of helplessness.

In the final stage, there is a sense of submission as Gazans accept the reality that they are unable to change the situation. That they are left alone. That the world has abandoned us. That Israel can kill and destroy at large with impunity. This is a stage marked by endurance, as Palestinians strive to adapt and persevere in the face of ongoing challenges.

These stages of war have become an unfortunate part of life in Gaza, shaping the resilience and perseverance of the Palestinian people in the face of unimaginable hardships imposed by the Israeli occupation.

27 October 2023: What it’s like when Israel bombs your building

I have six children. And so far we have survived seven major Israeli escalations, unscathed. We are an average family. My wife, Nusayba, is a housewife, I have two children in college and my youngest child, Amal, is 7. In Gaza, Amal is already four wars old.

We are an average family in Gaza, but we have had our fair share of Israeli death and destruction.

So far, since the early 1970s, I have lost 20 (and 15 last week) members of my extended family due to Israeli aggression.

In 2014, Israel destroyed our family home of seven flats, killing my brother Mohammed.

In 2014, Israel killed about 20 of my wife’s family including her brother, her sister, three of her sister’s kids, her grandfather and her cousin. And destroyed several of my in-laws’ homes.

Combined, my wife and I have lost over fifty 50 members to Israeli war and terror.

2023 war on Gaza

As the bombs fall and Israel targets sleeping families in their homes, parents are torn between several issues.

Should we leave? But go where, when Israel targets evacuees on their way and targets the areas they evacuate to?

Should we stay with relatives? Or should our relatives stay with us, whose home is relatively “safe?” We can never be sure. It’s been more than 75 years of brutal occupation – and over six major Israeli military onslaughts in the past 15 years – and we have so far failed to understand Israel’s brutality and mentality of death and destruction.

And then there is the fear of what to do if – when – we are bombed. We try to evade them. But how can you evade the bombs when Israel throws three or four or five consecutive bombs at the same home.

The big question Palestinian households debate is whether we should sleep in the same room so that when we die, we die together, or whether we should sleep in different rooms so some of us may survive.

The answer is always that we need to sleep in the living room together. If we die, we die together. No one has to deal with the heartbreak.

No food. No water. No electricity.

This 2023 war is different. Israel has intensified using hunger as a weapon. By completely besieging Gaza and cutting off the electricity and water supplies and not allowing aid or imports, Israel is not only putting Palestinians on a diet, but also starving them.

In my household, and we are a well-off family, my wife and I sat with the children and explained the situation to them, especially the little ones: “We need to ration. We need to eat and drink a quarter of what we usually consume. It’s not that we do not have money, but food is running out and we barely have water.”

And good luck explaining to your 7-year-old that she can’t have her two morning eggs and instead she will be having a quarter of a bomb! (Israel later bombed the eggs.)

As a parent, I feel desperate and helpless. I can’t provide the love and protection I am supposed to give my kids.

Instead of often telling my kids “I love you,” I have been repeating for the past two weeks:

“Kids, eat less. Kids, drink less.” And I imagine this being my last thing I say to them and it is devastating.

Israel bombs our building

If we had a little food last week, now we barely have any because Israel struck our home with two missiles while we were inside. And without prior warning!

My wife Nusayba had already instructed the kids to run if a bombing happened nearby. We never expected [our building] to be hit. And that was a golden piece of advice.

I was hosting four families of relatives in my flat. Most of them were kids and women.

We ran and ran. We carried the little ones and grabbed the small bags with our cash and important documents that Gazans keep at the door every time Israel wages a war.

We escaped with a miracle, with only bruises and tiny scratches. We checked and found everyone was fine. And then we walked to a nearby UN school shelter, which was in an inhuman condition. We crammed into small classrooms with other families.

With that, we lost our last sense of safety. We lost our water. We lost our food and the remaining eggs that Amal loves.

We are an average Palestinian family. But we have had our fair share of Israeli death and destruction. In Gaza, no one is safe. And no place is safe. Israel could kill all 2.3 million of us and the world would not bat an eye.

[tofeelthecold]

lizzie tags

[voidcenturyseashanties]

Artwork by Forevermedhok. Pre-timeskip Neela (left), post-timeskip Neela (right) This artwork was part of a commission. Please DO NOT STEAL.

VISAGE | PLAYLIST | PORTRAYAL NOTES

NAME: Sol Neela EPITHET: Dancing Spur Neela. Neela, the Dancing Spur. 踊る拍車 ( odoru hakusha ) AGE: 18 (pre-timeskip), 20 (post timeskip) BIRTHDATE: July 19th. BIRTHPLACE: Mirror Ball Island, East Blue. HEIGHT: 174 cm / 5'8.5 WEIGHT: 59kg / 130 lbs BODY TYPE: Slender, muscular. Neela has well-defined limbs and muscle tone as she is usually active. In particular, her shoulders, back, and core boast some of the most striking definition. Her breasts are somewhat full, though they tend to look fuller and sit higher due to the amount of muscle she maintains in her shoulders, pectorals, and lats. GENERAL APPEARANCE: Large, doe-like umber eyes that always sparkle with wonder or delight. A face-splitting grin usually adorns a petite, heart-shaped face. Full lips frame the almost permanent smile. A somewhat petite nose with a relatively low bridge with an alar base that is somewhat wide. Her septum is adorned with a stacked/2-tiered golden septum ring which nestles at the top of a short, concave philtrum. Coils of flaxen hair are usually braided and tied in protective styles. Her frame is lean and muscular; muscle accounts for the majority of her weight, though it has a healthy percentage of body fat to keep her insulated. A narrow, defined waist signifies a deep core that bears a great deal of strength. Broad shoulders are capped with visibly sculpted deltoid muscles. The combination of shoulder and chest muscle volume lifts the tissue on her breasts to make them appear fuller and sit higher on her rib cage. AFFILIATION: Straw-Hat Pirates (available for AU storylines) SKILLS: Dancing, body contortion, and combat.

Neela is a user of kenbunshoku haki—though before the time skip she is not entirely aware of what exactly it is named nor what it is called—and considered her fluid, evasive movements to be attributed to a divine blessing. Over time, she becomes cognizant of what it truly is (and that it is not as uncommon as she once perceived). Through practice, she is able to hone it further. After the time skip, Neela has progressed into utilizing busoshoku haki. Her ability progresses to a degree where she can emit it in short distances, serving as foreshocks or aftershocks to her strikes.

WEAPONS: Currently being reworked, stay tuned (updated as of 8/28/24)

BACKSTORY:

Neela was raised by her father, Nyota Njano, a discharged Navy soldier on Mirror Ball Island. Her mother, Sol Najma, was one of many daughters of a misandrist troupe of mercenaries. The Sol Clan lineage is believed to have originated in Alabasta, though they have long since emigrated from their home and settled on Mirror Ball Island. The love between Najma and Njano was forbidden by the matriarchs of the Sol family. They were incensed when their rendezvous resulted in the conception of a child. From Najma’s pleas, they spared his life under the condition that he never be near Najma nor any Sol family member again. The Sol family was deceived into thinking that Najma’s child had passed shortly after birth. Instead, Njano was given the baby girl as a parting gift from his beloved. Najma did not want her daughter to suffer the same fate. 

Fate, however, was cruel to them. At the age of six, Neela had been spotted with her father by a Sol matriarch. Njano, who worked security for Doskoi Panda, was later dispatched. Neela was collected by her mother, who provided the child the palatable alternative to her father’s passing. She was told he had been sick and that the reason she had not yet met her mother was that they were searching for herbs to cure his rare condition. Unfortunately, they were too late. This seemed to alleviate some of the otherwise happy-go-lucky girl’s grief. Despite the dismissal and degradation from the Sol matriarchs for her sunny disposition and naivete, Neela thrived on the quiet praises of her mother for her athletic and acrobatic feats. After all, she was a Sol: movement was in her blood. It was in her soul. 

Curiosity about the world around her eventually got the better of young Neela, however. At age 18 she was unable to contain this curiosity and decided to set out to sea. Boldly, she propositioned a pirate crew to take her to sea. This was met with both laughter and a threat. So . . . Neela sought to stow away by using her contortionist skills. This led her to Orange Town. Of course, the occupation of the Buggy Pirates only scared her further, and she ended up returning to the ship. Initially, the idea of a circus seemed interesting until she was able to fully process what was happening. 

Next stop? Baratie. After cautiously leaving the cargo hold for a stretch, Neela’s curious cruise about the restaurant led her to be unintentionally marooned on the floating restaurant. With no money and no place to go, she sought an audience with Owner Zeff. After an arduous back and forth, Zeff relented under the conditions that she not set foot in the kitchen and that she wear some covering on her feet. She would be allowed to bus tables and run food. Her time at Baratie was short, but memorable. The dancer had scoped out a gallion to slither into. She narrowly missed the arrival of the Straw Hats, and the subsequent siege of Don Krieg. 

Finally, Neela arrived at Loguetown. Neela’s stint in Loguetown ended with her being taken into naval custody by Captain Smoker after recognizing–and attempting to reach Sanji–during the chaos that unfolded. Believed to be in league with the Straw Hats, Neela was placed in the brig of a Naval ship that ends up at Alabasta. When the crew of the vessel departed, Neela was able to escape her handcuffs by using a ring blade (erroneously thought to be body jewelry since it had not expanded) on her ankle. After securing her bracelets, she slinked cautiously into the chaos of Nanohana. As fate would have it, the familiar face of Sanji was also there. 

Ultimately, this entanglement led to her recruitment. Her involvement in the battles over Alabasta’s fate were not substantial, but she was there regardless. 

Neela’s involvement with any specific arc is not necessarily specified as these things can be explored in separate threads and dynamics. She will likely not have a pivotal role in them, as she is a support character.

Following the events of Sabaody, Neela was sent hurtling back to Mirror Ball Island. The initial embrace from her mother soon soured, and Neela spent her two-year journey on the receiving end of incessant insults by the Sol clan. How foolish she was to abandon family . . . for a man, no less. How stupid she was to strengthen herself . . . to serve a man! She chose love over power! Yet still, the training continued: with unexpected onslaughts and strikes from various members of the skilled Sol clan, Neela lost almost every encounter at the beginning of her training. Neela protested adamantly that her desire to be strong was not to serve, but to protect. Her desire was not to be subservient but to love. Her desire to love and be loved was not foolish, and it was not weak. In fact, she cited that love could be the strongest armor and strongest force that one could ever wield. That armor and that force manifested as a newly awakened skill: busoshoku haki.

[forza-collection]

Giancarlo

Giancarlo, standing tall at 11 meters, is a figure of quiet authority in the realm of Forza. He bears a slender build, reminiscent of Alaric, with a refined and short mane of reddish hair, meticulously combed backward. The crest of his frontal hairline gracefully sways in the breeze. His forehead often creases in thoughtful observation, especially when confronted with unbridled emotions, though he maintains a composed demeanor.

His complexion features delicate shades of pale white and soft pink, and his gaze is resolute and direct. A well-groomed beard, adorned with intricate patterns in hues of turquoise, deep blues, and wine-like purples, frames his visage. His neck extends into even deeper hues of turquoise, almost resembling emeralds.

Giancarlo is often attired in elegant ensembles, donning textured ties and vests that blend shades of wine and emerald. A medallion adorns his chest, a symbol of his ancestral lineage that he will one day pass on to his son, Luciano. Despite the intensity that occasionally flickers in his gaze, he has been a steady and balanced presence in Luciano's life.

As Luciano reaches an age of exploration and self-discovery, Giancarlo understands the importance of allowing his son the freedom to navigate his emotions and sensitivities. They share daily conversations, finding solace in each other's company, offering unwavering support, and embracing the liberty to be themselves.

Giancarlo's domain is the central library of the realm of the reds, a place where he spends the majority of his time. This library serves as a link to other realms, preserving the unique wisdom, genealogies, memories, and battles of each. It is a repository of collective knowledge and a testament to the history of their world. The medallion he proudly wears signifies his duty as the guardian of these memories, a role he embraces with grace and dedication.

[xasha777]

In the Kingdom of Strathclyde, a realm steeped in both ancient tradition and the glow of futuristic technologies, a mysterious figure known only as the Red Sibyl emerges, her face obscured by a veil of vivid, scarlet threads that form complex geometric patterns across her skin. Each line and intersection on her face pulses with nanotechnology, imbued with the power to foresee calamities that threaten her kingdom.

The Red Sibyl's origins are as enigmatic as her abilities; she is believed to be a creation of the old gods, enhanced by the advanced genetic engineering of Strathclyde's most brilliant minds. Her eyes, one as blue as the deepest lake, the other mirroring the golden hue of Strathclyde's emblematic gorse flowers, see beyond the physical realm into the fractal complexities of possible futures.

As Strathclyde advances its dominion among the stars, expanding its influence through vast space colonies, the Red Sibyl's visions become crucial to the kingdom's survival. However, with her power grows a threat from a forgotten sector of the galaxy, where a faction of rebels, the Zephyrians, believe that tampering with the fabric of fate is an abomination.

When the Red Sibyl foresees a catastrophic attack on Strathclyde’s interstellar fleet by the Zephyrians, a plan is set into motion to avert disaster. Princess Elara, Strathclyde's fiercest warrior and the kingdom’s heir, is dispatched with a contingent of elite knights to intercept the Zephyrian fleet in the nebula of Alaric.

As battle looms, the Red Sibyl's network of sentient satellites, orbiting distant planets and stars, captures the strategic movements of the Zephyrian ships. With her guidance, Princess Elara’s fleet maneuvers through the cosmic maelstrom, their ships cloaked in stealth technology developed from the Sibyl’s own designs.

The clash is fierce and illuminated by the flashes of quantum blasters and the shimmer of protective energy shields. In the midst of chaos, the Red Sibyl, though miles and minds away, feels a disturbing ripple in the tides of fate. Her face flares brighter, the red lines searing as they rearrange, forming a new, ominous pattern.

With quick thinking and a whispered warning through an interstellar comm-link, the Red Sibyl directs Elara to the Zephyrian command vessel. There, Elara confronts the rebel leader, and through a parley facilitated by the truths only the Red Sibyl could foresee, a truce is forged.

Peace comes at the cost of constant vigilance, and the Red Sibyl’s role in Strathclyde shifts from warrior-seer to guardian of this fragile peace. Her visage, once a symbol of forewarned destruction, becomes an emblem of unity and foresight, guiding Strathclyde through the nebulous paths of space and destiny.

[tobiramamonmari29]

Gengemuu

Muu : tsuchikage💜gengetsu : Mizukage 

                            //////

Point de vue extérieure :

Tobirama Senju, le deuxième Hokage avait demandé une réunion. Les cinq kage ce sont donc rassemblé pour parlé des démons à queue. Mais principalement pour que plusieurs village s'allie entre eux.

Muu : je ne vois pas pourquoi, je devrais m'associer avec toi.

Gengetsu : arrêtes donc de te plaindre vielle momie.

Muu : moi au moins, je n'ai pas deux moustache riquiquille sur le visage.

Les autres Kage les regardez ce disputé en soupirant. Tobirama qui avait demandé cette réunion, commencé à en avoir marre. Mais ils arrêterons un moment où un autre pas vrai ?

Gengetsu : je vais te tuer ! Dit-il plutôt en colère. Les autres pouffa derrière leur paume de main pour ne pas ce faire remarquer.

Muu : bien sur essaie donc. Écoute moi bien Mizukage, je ne vais pas m'associer à toi.

Gengetsu : comme ci ! J'allais être associé à toi et ton village pourrit.

On ne serait jamais arrivé à cette discussion si le kazekage n'avait pas proposé aux deux de s'allier ensemble. Du moins leur village mais même cela été devenue impossible.

Kazekage : mais vous êtes d'accord en ce moment. Tenta t'il en les regardant.

Muu : n'importe quoi.

Gengetsu : regarde comment tu as plombé l'ambiance ! Dit-il en le désignant. Tout ça parce que tu ne veux pas t'alliée à un autre village.

Muu : ah parce que tu veux une alliance avec moi maintenant ? Dit-il en ce levant de son siège.

Gengetsu : tu n'as cas t'alliée à Suna ! Le Kazekage à l'aire de s'en faire pour toi et ta face de momie.

Muu : tu semblais être le plus inquièter de cela contrairement aux autres. Dit-il en le pointant du doigt. Le Mizukage finit par ce levé à son tour claquant ses mains contre la table.

Gengetsu : je ne suis pas du genre à m'inquiéter pour un homme, qui s'habille pour seul vêtement du papier toilette. Dit-il en colère en se rapprochant de l'autre.

Muu : De toute évidence, tu mens, Mizukage. Et me donne pas de leçon, tu t'es regarder dans un miroir qui pourrais te prendre au sérieux. Tout les autres kage siffla en tournant la tête, le hokage deuxième du Nom soupira pour la dixième fois au moins.

Gengetsu : je te demande pardon !? Arrête donc tout ce cirque, tu vas t'asseoir maintenant ou je te tue.

Muu : Me tuer ? Essaie donc pour voir.

Tobirama : bon ça suffit maintenant.

Muu : le Hokage à raison. Dit-il en ce remettant sur sa chaise.

Gengetsu : pff mouais. Il fit de même, la discussion n'a pas eu le temps de reprendre que les deux d'insulter déjà.

Muu/gengetsu : tête de rat // fossile en décomposition. Dit-il en chuchotant.

Les deux hommes ce sont tout les deux relevé, en disant  « qu'est-ce que tu viens de dire !?  ». Mais les deux c'était relevé beaucoup trop vite ce qui donna un spectacle inédit. Le mizukage avait ses mains sur ses celles du tsuchikage qui été contre la table. Ce n'était pas le plus alarment, ce qui l'été. C'est qu'ils se sont relevé tellement vite et tellement proche qu'ils ont finit par s'embrasser.

Kazekage : c'est donc comme ça que commence une alliance avec une personne qu'on déteste.

Les deux hommes ce sont reculer en entendant cela, le Tsuchikage enleva ses mains de dessous de celle du Mizukage. L'homme plus grand ouvrit la bouche mais la referma assez rapidemnt. Il s'est assit en laissant ses mains glissait sur la table. Le Tsuchikage s'est assis en silence avant d'à nouveau parler.

Muu : je vais peut être envisagé, une alliance avec Kiri. Pour ma santé mental.

Tobirama : bien ce n'était pas si compliqué.

Fin.

[wanderlust-songbird]

You can romanticize it as much as you want in your mind, it doesn't erase the fact that you made him feel anguish & betrayal at that very moment.

---

A drawing of Alaric that I commissioned from someone who wished to remain anonymous for now about over 3 months or so ago. But the wait was really worth it!

[twinsfangsa]

AU ALI was sent to the 2018 Prison World with Kai, Jade, Wendy and Diego, and had plotted a suitable punishment for Alaric, by hurting via Josie. Ali does not like harming kids, but Alaric did put her and three kids in a place she had hated with a person who annoys the heck out of her. He deserves to be punished! And the best thing, Ali is a SEER, she will know if Alaric is lying.

“Everytime you lie, I will cut your daughter.” - Ali.

[debaxchery]

name:  alaric davenport. // age: thirty. // gender: cis male. // pronouns: he/him. // romantic: panromantic. // sexual: pansexual. // position: switch. // faceclaim: leo sutter. // for: @milkteethss.

[isgudinne-moved]

Send me 🗣️ for incorrect quotes of your muse and mine ( @silvcrreaper )

[sltzarch]

alaric k. saltzman feat. lizzie saltzman || (?/-)

mutuals may reblog

[induro-a]

𝑯𝑶𝑷𝑬 𝑴𝑰𝑲𝑨𝑬𝑳𝑺𝑶𝑵

[forza-collection]

Arion

Arion, stands at a height of 8 meters, making him one of the younger inhabitants of this era. His dreamy gaze often turns skyward, reflecting his contemplative nature and yearning for the infinite. His hair is a cascade of fiery copper, resembling flames that dance toward the heavens. It bears a delicate layer of nature, akin to a leaf caught in the wind, interwoven with shades of green.

His complexion transitions from a pristine ivory to a calming celestial blue, a visual representation of the profound emotions that course through him. A meticulously groomed beard, slightly darker than his well-tended skin, frames his visage. His flowing hair continues its enchanting dance down his slim, elongated neck.

Adorned in hues of copper and orange, his attire gradually deepens into shades of red further down his form. Circular motifs in his clothing evoke a sense of perpetual movement, mirroring the ethereal quality of his being. Arion's lineage is evident in his elegant demeanor, a trait he shares with his uncle, Alaric. While he strives to forge his own path and distinct identity, he occasionally finds comfort in solitude and meaningful conversations with Alaric.

Arion's emotions remain palpable in the atmosphere around him, a testament to his youthful spirit and sensitivity to the world. In the vibrant tapestry of "Forza," he stands as a portrait of both introspection and connection, a testament to the perpetual ebb and flow of human sentiment.

[piiecesofovrpast]

tag drop for Alaric ‘Ric’ Stone