#rayan (oc)

[mssboo]

your honour thats not louis hofmann. that’s my blorbo right there

[inkwell-and-dagger]

How To Kill An Immortal

Chapter 1 — Taken

Word Count: 3,125

Contains: kidnapping, (potential) knife violence, asphyxiation,

next || masterlist

—> —> —> —> —> —>

Immortals.

Those with the unnatural ability to surpass the regular limits of the human body, able to endure even the most lethal of wounds, able to heal from injuries with an uncanny speed, fall under this title.

But it wasn't as if they were particularly sought after. Unlike other, more mythical beings that plagued the world, they were treated normally. Hell, if one were to pass an Immortal in the street, they'd look like any normal passerby. Just a regular person, unless one would happen to witness their healing process or uncanny ability to walk off lethal injuries themselves.

Not to Foster Canavan, though.

The mere concept of Immortals existing unsettled them in a way. The fact a normal person, anyone, could possess such an ability naturally didn't seem right to them. Just like every other thing that wasn't quite like what they deemed as 'normal' in this world. It wasn't as if they wanted the ability to be Immortal, no, if anything they despised the things. After what one did to their own damned fucking parents, they could hardly stand the thought of being in a room with an Immortal. They weren't human in their eyes, no matter how hard anyone tried to convince them otherwise. And they'll never be human, no matter how human they look or act.

So when they realised an Immortal would be lurking amongst Durham for a while, they were determined to get rid of the vile thing themself.

There was only one problem, however: Foster had no bloody clue where to actually find the Immortal. The only reason they'd even become aware of the thing's existence was after they'd seen him walking down the street. They recognized almost immediately after that it was an Immortal — the vibrant, almost inhuman, green hue of its eyes and the darkened infinity symbol mark on his palms gave it away. They didn't know the Immortal's name, nor where it lived, where it was born, etcetera. And, quite frankly, they didn't give a shit. They just wanted to get the damned thing off the streets.

Prowling up and down the street they'd last seen the creature, Foster hid in the shadows of their hood. Although they weren't hiding from anybody in particular, it was a comfort to know that they wouldn't stand out too much. And despite the fact that they had an inkling of a doubt that the man would show up here again, they couldn't help but try anyway.

Lost in thought, eyes fixed onto the cracks in the pavement, they didn't notice a figure walking by until their shoulders collided. Snapping out of their trance, they looked up to the man they'd bumped into.

“I'm sorry,” Foster started, taking a moment as they mumbled the apology to assess the man's face. The stranger stood at around 5’7, they guessed, with ivory skin, brown hair and… green eyes.

Startlingly green. Almost unnaturally so.

Oh.

Successfully masking their expression of triumph, they kept their face neutral as the Immortal responded. Meanwhile, Foster clutched the small knife in their hoodie pocket even tighter. It may come in good use if he didn't come quietly.

“It’s okay. Wasn't your fault.” With a strong, Northern Irish accent, the damned creature replied casually. Shrugging, it turned to leave, before Foster's scarred hand grabbed a hold of his forearm.

“Aye, I've seen you somewhere. Yesterday.”

The Immortal raised an eyebrow, and Foster cursed themself as his expression turned to one of suspicion. “And what's making you stop me again?”

Crap. Thinking of an explanation, Foster tried to lengthen the time they had, even just by an inch. Then again, they doubted this excuse would be effective. “You.. erm, you look like an interesting guy?”

“Thank you?” The Immortal shuffled on the spot uncomfortably, gently prying its arm out of Foster's grasp. As the thing turned to leave again, much to the dismay of Foster, they realised they just had to get on with it and make their intentions known.

As soon as the tip of a knife, cold and dangerous, touched the back of his neck, the Immortal stopped in his tracks. Foster spoke again, “Listen ‘ere you little shit. You're gonna be coming with me, and you're gonna do everything I say. Otherwise, this—” They accentuated the word by pressing the pocket knife into the Immortal's skin, eliciting a whimper from the creature— “Is gonna end up three inches into your neck.” Foster grinned, though the expression was grim. “But I doubt it'll kill you.”

Foster relished in the fearful gaze meeting their own, the creature’s reaction priceless. “Huh—?”

“Come with me, Immortal.”

The Immortal begrudgingly nodded in response. His reluctance was evident. Foster's grin only widened, turning the Immortal around and beginning to lead him down the street. They shifted the position of the knife to a more subtle place, against the creature's lower back, digging the blade in if the vile thing moved too slowly. “Tell me your name.”

“Fuck you.”

Foster just pursed their lips, grip on the pocketknife tightening with their horribly disguised irritation. That was fine. They'd find out eventually. “How old are you?”

The Immortal hesitated, mumbling his response. His age wouldn't reveal too much, right? “Thirty.”

Foster frowned in suspicion. “You look too young to be thirty.”

A hint of a smirk involuntarily tugged at his lips, despite his situation. “Should I be flattered?”

The smaller mortal scowled. “Just keep fucking walkin’, Immortal.” They emphasised the last word as if it were an insult, pressing the blade of their knife further into Rayan's jacket until he fell silent and continued down the street. The road was quiet as dusk arrived, the only noise being the echo of their footsteps down the road.

The Immortal's fear was palpable, and Foster could practically taste it in the air. An icy, frigid feeling. It gladdened them to know that they were the one instilling this fear into such a ‘powerful’ creature.

With some time, Foster managed to track down where their parked car was, unceremoniously shoving open the car door and pushing the Immortal towards it; a silent command to get inside. They doubted they’d need to tie him up, given how compliant he was already.

But it did seem they overestimated him. Defiantly, he stood up again, standing quite a few inches taller than Foster. It was as if he was mocking them. “Look, I'll give you whatever you want. Money, or whatever,” the Immortal leaned closer, voice quivering, betraying his thin facade. The Immortal was terrified, but stood his ground, “I'm not getting in there.”

“I don't want money. Get in the car.”

“No, not until I—”

“Get in the car.”

“No—” his protest abruptly turned into a strained grunt as Foster's hand wrapped easily around his neck, and the mortal grinned at the quickening pulse under their palm. Lifting his hands to grasp their wrist, attempting to pry his captor’s hand off once realising he couldn't breathe. “Get off of me!” He rasped, sinking his chipped black nails into the flesh of their wrist, earning a pained grunt from the mortal.

The mortal scowled, an expression riddled with disgust, as they slid the knife back into their pocket to hold him down against the car door with their other hand. Squeezing tighter, they watched in sick, grim satisfaction as the creature's pleas turned into gasps and whimpers for air.

The Immortal’s pitiful noises soon subsided after a couple minutes, movements weakening when his consciousness began to slip. Foster watched, hardly fazed by the scene, instead squeezing tighter until, finally, Rayan was unconscious. They placed him down on the backseat, leaning over his unconscious form.

“Thank fuck,” They whispered, quickly checking nobody had watched the ordeal before grabbing the bundle of rope from the passenger seat. Roughly binding the Immortal's wrists and ankles together, they wasted no time in instead shoving him into the boot of the car. Just in case he woke up and decided to cause trouble.

—> —> —>

Foster had been driving for a good fifteen minutes now, lost in the winding roads outside of Durham. Thankfully, if the vile Immortal was even awake now in the first place, the thing in the boot was silent.

They pondered over what they could do now. Chaining the guy up in their basement is really the only option they have; they can't exactly kill him, can they? Foster lived alone, which they were infinitely thankful for, but they had to put into consideration that their neighbours might grow suspicious if they were to hear him. Scaring them into silence will have to suffice if they grow too curious.

With that thought, they pulled into the driveway of their house. It wasn't too much of a noticeable building, quite mundane compared to some of those around them. But they enjoyed the simplicity, the neatness. Boring to some, perfect to them.

Striding out of the car and to the boot, they hesitated. They were conflicted; they didn't want anybody witnessing them dragging a tied up, thirty-year-old man into their house, but then again they didn't want to risk leaving him unattended for too long. Foster didn't trust that the Immortal wouldn't try and escape once left alone.

They checked their phone. It was nearly midnight. They doubted anybody would be awake at the time, so Foster was sure they'd be fine.

Fuck it. What did they have to lose, anyway? Certainly not much. Gloved hand opening the boot of the car, they were amused to see the Immortal, bound and distressed, staring up at them with teary eyes. They almost felt bad for the vermin. Almost.

“Out you go,” Foster grunted, holstering the man up into their arms despite the height difference, slinging him over their shoulder and wasting no time in getting inside. They'd worry about closing the boot in a moment. Until the damned thing stopped squirming in their arms, they weren't going anywhere.

“Let go of me—!”

Foster ignored the pleas from the damned thing, throwing it inside before it could make even more noise and, most likely, alert anyone nearby. They smirked down at the Immortal as he squirmed on the floor of the hallway, attempting to at least stand up. Foster just pushed him back down with the heel of their boot, adding an uncomfortable amount of pressure that stopped his struggling entirely.

“Now,” Foster sighed, in almost a bored tone, “you are gonna stay right here whilst I lock the car. If you do so much as move an inch, I'll remove your ability to move entirely. And I don't mean by restraining you. Understood?”

The man nodded in silence, most likely too frightened to speak. Good.

With a small, amused chuckle at the sight of the Immortal's terror, Foster shut the front door once more. They didn't lock it, knowing that they'd scared the Immortal into compliance for a little while. They hastily locked the car and carried in the spare rope they had, returning to the doorway after a few moments. As expected, the Immortal remained in place.

Finally entering and locking the door, they set the rope aside and grabbed the Immortal by the back of his jacket, dragging him down a nearby staircase to their basement. It was only a place for storage, the only interesting assets being a couple cupboards and boxes of old things they wanted to keep, but it would suffice for now. They ignored the pained grunts and occasional thuds as the Immortal's restrained body was dragged down the staircase.

Swinging open the basement door, a loud creak splitting through the air as it swung on rusted hinges, the Immortal was thrown into the basement. A small grunt of pain followed the thud of his body hitting the frigid ground.

“Welcome home, Immortal.” Foster sneered, slamming the door shut.

—> —> —>

Rayan was freaking out, to be honest.

He had believed — how stupid he was to believe — that taking an evening walk would soothe his mind, at least temporarily. He had believed that the cool, crisp air was all that he needed. Just some time on his own, to ground himself and take in Durham when there wasn't activity buzzing around him. He'd been proved wrong.

And now, here he was: hands tied by uncomfortably tight rope, still fuzzy and disoriented from being choked until he was unconscious, locked in a pitch-black basement. He didn't even know who his captor was — didn't recognize the scarred, grinning face that had watched with glee as he struggled for air, and had happily dragged him down a flight of stairs and locked him in this… place.

He took a moment to attempt to look around, but all he saw was black. Lifting his hands, he hardly saw them in front of him. Great. From what little he'd seen before the door had closed, the room only held a couple boxes and dusty cabinets, none of which would be particularly useful unless one of them held an item which could assist him in escaping. But right now, he just needed to calm the fuck down.

He didn't like the dark. He didn't like not being able to see what's around him, what's behind him, and every little creak of the floorboards above him as his captor moved around upstairs made his skin crawl.

He shuffled back until he hit a wall, the sudden impact making his heart skip a beat. With something to assist him, he lifted himself to his feet. He didn't know why he decided this was a good idea — his ankles were bound together after all — but he did it anyway.

He suddenly stopped, glancing up as he heard footsteps. He had no doubt that his captor was returning, and he could only imagine what for. He sank to the floor again, trying to make it seem he wasn't trying anything, as the door creaked open again and he gazed, terrified, up at the silhouette of his captor.

“I bet you have a lot of questions,” They started as he was about to open his mouth, striding inside and dragging an object with them. A chair.

What would they need a chair for?

“And, to be frank, I'm not giving you any answers,” They placed the chair in the centre of the room, then walked back to the door. Flicking a switch on the wall, a single light bulb lit up the basement in a flickering yellow light. Rayan was, at least, thankful there was a light source in here in the first place.

His captor returned to him, crouching down to be level with him. They grabbed his wrists, tracing a thumb across the infinity symbol across his palm, etched into his flesh. “All you need to know is this: I know what you are, Immortal. And soon, I'm gonna figure out who you are.”

Leaving Rayan to figure out what this could imply, they made another trip back to the door. They turned back as Rayan finally had the courage to speak.

“You're.. not gonna kill me, right?” The question seemed almost childish to Rayan as soon as he uttered it, knowing that the answer was obvious. He couldn't die.

Hopefully.

“You and I both know I’d love to.” And with that, the buzzing light flickering off and plunging the Immortal into darkness, the door slid shut again.

—> —> —>

Rayan Cruz Hyacinth. Or, Cora Cruz Maguire — but that was his deadname, so Foster ignored that. Born in Dublin, Ireland, on the twenty-sixth of October, 1994. He had two siblings — Madison Maguire, around thirty-seven years of age, and Theo Maguire, twenty-five years of age. He had Perfect Immortality, whereas Madison had Imperfect Immortality and Theo was mortal. He was married to a man by the name of Vesker Faithern, and they have a child. Both of his own parents are deceased.

Interesting.

Foster shut down their laptop, letting the soft whirring of the fans inside diminish as they closed the top. They knew this sort of stuff was probably illegal, but technically all of this was. There was no going back now, and it wasn't like they had much to lose anyway if they did get caught.

Standing up out of their seat at the kitchen table, they relished the tranquillity of the silent house around them. It was as if there wasn't a man in the basement in the first place! They were glad that he wasn't making any noise. It would be unfortunate if he was causing trouble; they didn't want to use their bat too early on, after all.

Speaking of, they decided to check up on him before they went to bed. Just to make sure there was no chance he'd escape during the night.

They'd taken off their trainers after they brought the chair to the basement, so their footsteps were much quieter as they descended down the steps that led to the basement. Letting the door creak open, marking their arrival, they clicked the flickering light on again.

Rayan had found refuge in one of the empty corners of the basement, wide eyes red from crying. He looked up, shuddering in fear of the silhouette staring down at him with a cruel, mocking grin. “I see you've made yourself comfortable,” Foster stated, walking casually inside and crouching down to the Immortal man’s height.

Rayan scowled, a pathetic attempt at defiance. “As comfortable as I can get in here. It's cold.”

His captor just pouted sarcastically, grabbing the rope around his wrists and dragging him out of the corner. “Too bad.”

Rayan couldn't help but grunt, scrambling to his feet. He didn't want to be dragged across the dusty floor. Begrudgingly, he followed Foster as they led him to none other than the chair, pushing him down onto the cushioned seat.

“I'll have to remove the cushioning somehow in the future,” Foster mused, much to Rayan's dismay, as they picked up the bundle of rope from the nearby cabinet. “Stay still.”

The process was painful, but more so in the way it was awkward. The rope around his wrists and ankles were uncomfortably tight. It didn't seem to help how his captor was whistling a merry little tune during it, silencing his complaints with a hard glare.

Eventually, strapped to the chair, Foster stepped back to admire their handiwork. It.. wasn't the best, but it was good enough. “I'm sure you'll be comfortable enough. I hope you like the dark.”

“I- I really don't—”

“Too fucking bad.” They said cheerily, though through gritted teeth, as they turned on their heels and walked to the door. Flicking the basement light off, they glanced over their shoulder before they shut and locked the door.

“Sweet dreams, Rayan Hyacinth.”

—> —> —>

CHAPTER ONE OF HTKAI IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF!!!!! this was. actually longer than I expected. uh. anyhow! Vesker and his and Rayan's kid were created by my wonderful mutual @ash-1s-wr1t1ng, and he also originally created Theo!!!!!! I hope you enjoyed :3

How To Kill An Immortal Taglist: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

[allergic-to-four-leaf-clovers]

please somebody help this poor boy. the scrongle. a twink.

the immortal himself, Rayan Hyacinth!! he has green eyes but I couldn't put that on the picrew- speaking of this is the picrew I actually quite like it!!

[pageburn]

THE FIVE GREAT HOUSES OF ADILISTAN.

an introduction to the five major houses that make up the world of my wip.

HOUSE LAHARI.

House Lahari, the first house of the Noon dynasty, held the ports. Mounted in a castle that sat atop a lone hill overlooking Sand Bay, House Lahari manned all ships and overlooked all trade that concerned their sacred land.

Descended from Karamat Lahari, a sailor who was said to have won the Goddess Phauzia’s favour by presenting her with a lithe snake that sung and danced and coiled around her arm like a bracelet, House Lahari was the first of the Fated Five upon whom befell tragedy.

HOUSE PIRZADA.

House Pirzada, the second house of the Noon dynasty, overlooked infrastructure. Great temples with open roofs were built for the Goddess Phauzia, lest her rays miss all who came seeking her counsel. The Pirzadas were a simple people, more devout than most, and quiet in a way that left one wondering indeed if they were more foe than friend.

Their descendent, Sefa Pirzada, was said to have been a close companion of Phauzia, and one of her most trusted advisors and friends. It was a bond her blood refused to forgo.

HOUSE LAAL.

House Laal, the third house, were masters of swordsmanship. From the forging of steel to its expert wielding, House Laal dominated all. They sired the greatest warriors the Sol had ever known, including Ramineh Laal the Ruthless, their descendant who ensured a name for all that would share her blood.

Many whispered that she had been the one to aid Phauzia in the carving of the throne, that it had been Laal hands that welded the seat that now housed foreign and—some would argue—unworthy inhabitants.

HOUSE JAFARI.

House Jafari, the fourth, knew more of matters of expenditure than gold itself. Calculated and sharp, they sat the council of every Noon King and Queen to come into power as the doyen of funds. They worked closely with every house to ensure funds were equally distributed, for the betterment of the realm.

Yanik Jafari had been witty enough to yield the Goddess’ interests. It was his knowledge and quick calculations that kept them there, however, and no more quickly was she impressed by him than she had him placed at the head of her own council so that all matters of outlay pass to him.

HOUSE NOON.

Lastly, House Noon, the fifth and final house of the Noon dynasty, and the house that brought about its shining glory. House Noon yielded the greatest power of them all, one that irrefutably trumped all others: the blood of Phauzia. For while the Fated Five possessed the blessing of the Goddess, her very being flowed in House Noon’s veins.

The work of Phauzia’s carving rested beneath their fingertips, their bones, and its power was conclusive. Their blood was worthy; picked by the shining Phauzia herself when she fell in love with a comely village man by the name of Mumtaz Noon. Their love was one that singers and merchants alike prattled of on the shores of Sand Bay to ensure commerce. A man with no inheritance to ensure the great Phauzia even a semblance of luxury nor comfort, Mumtaz had only a slight ring, thin as wisps and dispensable for the likes of the Goddess. But she loved him for his character, not his glory, and they lived a life of prosperous rule, during which they sired multiple children and grandchildren to inherit the kingdom after them.

It was said that when a Noon sat atop the throne it glowed with sunbeams sent from the sky lands above, a boon from the long-departed Phauzia and her consort Mumtaz as a mark of their favour.

[ash-1s-wr1t1ng]

It was always the same for Vanté.

Just when he finally had solid plans, someone would run off, get themselves killed, then we was expected to revive them, the only thanks he got being lying unconscious for two years for everyone else but him to be happy with themselves.

It was torture higher than a physical level. It was torture that made him feel like he was repeating everything. Every day, every month, every year.

All he was, at this point, was a puppet. A tool. And he knew they always meant well, they just wanted their loved ones back and he had no reason to be selfish, but he was just so.. sick, and tired.

Having to do this repeatedly took so much out of him. He was at the peak of his music career and he was dragged back down to revive another reckless idiot.

He just wanted to be appreciated for who he was, for his feats and his highs, for how much work and effort and care he’d put into trying to live some semblance of a normal life.

But he was just a tool, or an attraction. He would never be valued as human, even if it wasn’t intentional. Because he was different. No matter how normal he tried to be, no matter how much he tweaked and adjusted his appearance, he’d never be taken at surface value as human. Even if the person didn’t mean to, it was subconscious. He’d never be seen as human, because he wasn’t human.

He was snapped out of his thoughts from a call from Maddie. She hadn’t called since Rayan went missing, so he had no doubt it was for the exact thing he was just thinking about how much he hated. He’d have to go revive another person.

He sighed. Maybe another rampage would do him some good. That was his main thought as he picked up the phone and answered. Maybe then, people would show him the respect he’d been working so hard to get.

[arcanewitchinstitute]

VALENTINES DAY!

arcane witch institute — dorm leaders

a/n: I KNOW THIS IS REALLY LATE IM SO SORRY— man it’s the first time you guys are seeing the dorm leaders and it’s their genderbend versions lol, i promise i’ll get their bios and dorms done soon maybe…

celebrating at arcane witch institute, a special occasion full of love and sweets, you go to give a gift to your favorite dorm leader…! let’s see their reactions, shall we?

GALERON.

“ch…chocolates? huh, really?! for me?! eh, uh…o-oh, no no no, I love it, don’t worry! i-it’s just…i’m not really used to receiving anything…thank you though.”

JUSTIN MARMOREAL.

“my sincerest thank you for the fruit tart, but it would be rude of me not to give you anything back for today’s special occasion. so…here: say ‘aaa’~.”

ASKARI NDIAYE.

“…pfft~ aaww, did you want to be the first one to give me chocolate today? you’re so cute. thank you. haahh, i hope you don’t get in a fight with the other fans about this…”

VIOREL APATURA.

“chocolates? why thank you dear~ but, don’t think you’ll be leaving with empty hands. tada! i have something for you too—now we’re even, hah!”

RAYAN SHARIQ.

“thank you very much for the chocolates. ah, if you don’t mind me asking, would you like to have tea together at the cafe? i can arrange a vip room just for you and me. we can taste these together.”

ALLEN ERDENE.

“oh…!! oh this is the cutest one i’ve received so far! it has all my favorites! and you even bought an adorable bird plush with my name on it, thank you very much~ i’ll eat it at the dorm.”

HERO AIDONEUS.

“chocolates? …i see. you know, i don’t really care for this stuff anymore, but seeing as you were so nice to get me anything at all…how about you come to the dorm tonight? we’re holding a mini concert, so it’ll be nice if you were there~ ♪”

MORT MALEFICARUM.

“a gift, for me…? my, how peculiar. i don’t receive things like this often, you’ve actually managed to make my heart flutter…i appreciate your gift though, mortal.”

[rowenna-887]

Halloween isn't over yet! (at least not for me)

these event was really fun. The illustrations,the clothes,everything looks great.

but anyway,lets go to some headcanons!:

" When i jump in that horse with her

for a moment,i forgot about the end of the world.

we were running in the woods,fast,like nothing matter anymore. "

Rowenna:

At first,them run away for the old wood house that the Vanhouters have.

it is a very big house,with a lot of space,it was great.

they plant,take care of the cows that had there,put fences with barbwire, and tried to survive the best they could.

it belong a good place,very calm. a zombie or two sometimes tried to entry there,but them killed the creature in a minute.

until after 3 years.

a invasion of zombies managed to pass the fences.

Rowenna and Priya think they were lost.

until Priya saw the horse behind the house.

the horse was calm,eating grass.

"that is our chance to survive!" Priya screamed and take Rowenna's hand.

they get on the horse and run away.

that was the moment of their lives.

after this event,they stayed in simple house that was a miles away from the old wood house.

Priya put the name of the horse of Hefestus.

a few months later,Rowenna saw Hana passing close there and screams to her.

when they see each other alive,they hugged it other and cried,as Priya and Castiel.

Hana and Castiel take Rowenna for the base them construct.

they leave there now.

💀🧠

" I saw the death close to my face.

At first,i got scared,but i get used to this as that feeling continued to become more and more present.

like feeling happy,or sad. it was something that i get used to this.

until the day that feeling past to the love of my life.

that i couldn't permit. "

Charlotte:

Charlotte did no how to react.

she was paralyzed.

but Rayan was very chill about it.

he take all the care they need to survive,and run away for the city as fast as they could.

they find a abandoned cottage,and decided to stay there.

Rayan and Charlotte live a chill life there,training in case of zombie horde.

Charlotte became a good sniper and Rayan became a very good hunter.

after two years,the big zombie horde that they was always preparing in the case of this happen,came.

it was...much.

they thought they were going to die.

but that didn't happen.

an group of survivors saved they.

and,for they surprise,the leader is Hana and Castiel.

they leave there now.

💀🧠

" I never thought in bacome a leader.

neither in high school,or the university.

but suddenly,i became one.

at least my love is with me on that. "

Hana:

Hana and Castiel was in the studio when this happen.

everybody was in panic,but Hana was strangely calm.

she analysed the situation and decided the best way of survive to that.

and she and Castiel put the plan in pratice.

the started to live in shed that was very far away from there.

Castiel and Hana used to go to this place to get some peace and have some inspirations to compose.

so the shed was equipped with a lot of thing they had.

they put traps close to the sheds,making trips to find provisions and training.

after an year,they find other survivors and started a group.

Hana,of course,became the leader.

and in the past four years,Hana,Rowenna and Charlotte met each other again.

everyone was living there,construing new houses,establishments and soon they are a village.

bonus:

it was Hana and Rayan that find the cure.

[ryansen]

Yey Ryan👍🏼

[kamidoodles]

15 march 2024 // wip, trying to redraw my wow draenei pally, rayane. idk how i feel about that scale armour texture but we'll see.

[ladypepperofdavenshire]

Rayan with some fancy wedding henna and clothes, as featured here!

[mssboo]

unfortunately for everyone everytime i see a photo of this man in a black suit my mind goes immediately back to rayan

[inkwell-and-dagger]

Rayan Hyacinth

woah!! a wild Rayan!! and a trembling one too!!!!

look at this little guy, this dude, this sneet snart /pos, this pathetic sopping wet raccoon of a man.

also do ignore the lack of a right leg. usually The Survivors confiscate his prosthetic when he "visits"

How To Kill An Immortal taglist: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

[allergic-to-four-leaf-clovers]

We'll Bust Your Kneecaps <3

for context I was listening to bust your kneecaps by pomplamoose and I remembered this canon lore event I haven't talked about so here it is but in whump form. enjoy. also the heart is there for the sillies lmao

CW:!!!! failed escape attempt, violence, uhh- description of (I don't know how to describe this in a serious way) Foster Fucking Swinging A Baseball Bat At Rayan's Kneecaps™. uh. view with caution??

↓ ↓ ↓

—> —> —> —> —> —> —>

—> —> —> —> —> —> —>

Escaping seemed like both an easy and appealing prospect to Rayan. Especially after being stuck in that godforsaken basement for who knows how long; he couldn't remember the last time he'd been outside. He'd planned out his escape thoroughly, and made sure to do it when Esrana let him out of his binds for once, and Zayn just so happened to forget to lock the basement door after feeding him again.

He couldn't say that — at first — actually getting out of the basement was fucking terrifying. The steps leading up to the hallway above seemed infinite, and he'd heard all too many times how the stairs creaked and groaned if someone were to apply enough pressure. Luckily, the staircase seemed to be in a merciful mood, and he barely made a sound as he slowly but surely ascended.

Barely a minute had passed till he found himself in front of the door that led to outside, to freedom, carrying himself on unsteady legs. A feeling of triumph came over him. Seriously, they had to work on securing him better, it was pathetic how easy it was to escape in Rayan's opinion.

...But, as soon as he reached for the door with his hand, he felt.. off. Like something — or someone — was watching him.

And fuck, he couldn't have been more correct in that assumption.

He heard a sickening crack and, at the same time, a hard object hit the back of his knees; a baseball bat. Pain pulsed in his legs at once, and the sudden blow made him stumble over and, unfortunately, hit the ground with a grunt.

His attacker brought the baseball bat over their head and continued to hit his knees, his calves, his thighs, his ankles. One by one, until Rayan could've sworn he saw a drop or two of his blood on the tip of the bat. Shit.

But Rayan was in agony. It hurt, god, it hurt so fucking bad. And, as he rested his head back against the floor and let his body mingle with the sweet embrace of unconsciousness, he heard Foster's voice.

"That's what you get for trying to get out, dog."

—> —> —> —> —> —> —>

—> —> —> —> —> —> —>

[pageburn]

wip: hand of the caged

genre: new adult. high fantasy.

tw: violence, misogyny, forced/child marriage, murder, major character death, incest.

But the concept of pure birthright seemed to dwindle as more moons arrived and fled since the Golden Age. Illegitimacy festered in the swells of Adilistan and the houses grew restless. Gone were the days of prideful founders and come were the days of unsatisfied descendants who itched and yearned for more. The validity of the Goddess and mortal’s union was a greatly disputed matter, and factions rose that rejected the Faith, and the throne with it.

A Noon upon the throne was no longer a sign of stability for the realm, rather a mockery of those who kept it alight with no reward. Crimson rivulets trickled into Adilistan, carrying with them whispers of illegitimacy and caucuses that disputed behind closed doors the claims and rights of House Noon.

character list:

Sabah Noon: Princess of Adilistan and rightful heir after the murder of her older sister at the hands of her uncle. Flees the palace with her mother’s handmaiden.

Rayan Lahari: known as ‘the runaway heir’. Fled his family and life after witnessing the cruel realities of power and how it changes people. Now lives a life of crime by stealing to help provide for his people.

Kiran: handmaiden to the Queen. Companion to the King. Tasked with aiding Sabah in her fight for the throne.

Fatimah Noon: Princess of Adilistan and older sister to Sabah. Assassinated by orders of her uncle, who usurps the throne after her and her father’s deaths.

Junaid Noon: King of Adilistan. Assassinated by his brother in law.

Bandagi Laal: Queen Consort of Adilistan. Taken captive by her brother upon the deaths of her husband and daughter.

Waqas Laal: brother to the Queen. Son is married to Princess Fatimah Noon. Plots the murder of his son’s wife and his own brother in law. Installs his son upon the throne.

Zayn Laal: husband to Princess Fatimah Noon. Made King after her and the King’s deaths.

tag-list (lmk if u want to be added or removed): @lil-stark @wipsbymor @anonymousfoz @thesoftestofpetals

[ash-1s-wr1t1ng]

OOH AL ALSO MAYBE "QUIET" FROM THE ASK GAME??? :3333

bruh i only just saw this- anyway yip!!

=====================================

At first, the biggest issue Visceral had with Raverie was his inability to get him to shut the fuck up, especially when he had guests over.

Initially he could just threaten him with a knife and tell him to be quiet, but Raverie quickly learnt what he was doing. He wasn’t an idiot.

Visceral then resorted to gagging him whenever he wasn’t present in the basement. Which worked as intended, thank fuck, and Visceral was grateful for the restored peace and quiet.

However, it also raised the issue of having to remove it each time he tortured him. And as much as it was the only issue, it was a tedious issue. Visceral wanted to hear him scream. Wanted to know that he was damaging this- this thing, this manifestation of the faults that he refused to accept that he even had.

Which was probably the main solution in the first place, but no. Visceral’s pride wouldn’t let him. He’d never admit that.

So eventually, he had to ditch the gag.

“Just- can you be quiet?” He hissed down at Raverie as he threw the gag aside to be forgotten. “You’re not even supposed to exist, so be fucking quiet!”

“O-Okay, I will, I’m.. I’m sorry” Raverie responded. He was just glad he wouldn’t have to suffer through an aching jaw for another night.

This got a sadistic grin from Visceral. “Good lad” He said, before promptly leaving.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This actually worked, for a few weeks, until he invited Rayan over. Visceral practically never let characters into his domain, but he made exceptions for Rayan.

“Alright, I’m gonna go get us some food, you can look around if you want, to familiarise yourself” Visceral smiled. “Just uh- avoid the basement. No reason, just.. given your past. And all.”

“Oh, okay” Rayan responded, although with a hint of suspicion. It made sense, of course, there was just… something in Visceral’s tone. Something he didn’t quite bring himself to trust. He felt something was off.

So he asked where the toilet was. Visceral promptly answered, then he left. It gave him the perfect excuse to be gone for that bit longer, while he figured out what the fuck was going on here - or if he was just paranoid.

Raverie had memorised Visceral’s footsteps by now, along with his routine and everything, so hearing a new set at an off time threw him for a loop.

“…Hello?” Raverie called. The footsteps paused.

Rayan was a bit startled, at first. It sounded almost like a child, if not an early teen. But Visceral didn’t have any kids… right?

He glanced both ways down the hall, before spotting the stairs at the end of the hall that only seemed to lead downward. Undoubtedly a basement.

He glanced back the way he came again, and then quickly and silently made his way to the basement steps. Already he was hit with the painfully familiar, metallic smell of blood.

This, of course, made him a little worried. He tried the basement door, a simple wooden door with white paint chipping and peeling off left right and centre, and was surprised to find it was unlocked.

That’s when he found Raverie. Probably no older than 14, more or less. Tied to a chair under the basement window, which was less a window and more just a set of evenly spaced, rusted bars.

Not only that, but there was water on the floor that came through the bars, and down the wall. It was always raining in Visceral’s realm, for some reason.

But enough about that, there was just.. a young child, injured and cold, just here, in Visceral’s basement, a man he thought he could trust. Yet looking into the frightened, tentative grey eyes of this child…

He wasn’t so sure.

=====================================

A/N: Feel free to rewrite or continue on with! This is very rushed and I am very tired, so not only is it just random word spewing, it is not proofread, so apologies for any errors. Rayan Hyacinth belongs to my lovely mutual @n-h-y-r-v-u-s .

[arcanewitchinstitute]

WHITE DAY!

arcane witch institute — dorm leaders

a/n: white day cards!! woo! i tried my best to imitate what twst did haha. originally i was gonna speedrun the dorm logos for this but decided i was too lazy lol…oops. justin’s and brennan’s letters were hard to format, maybe i shouldn’t have made them write so much-

on this special day, those who have received gifts from people reciprocate by giving gifts back. all students in arcane witch institute are giving presents left and right today…

oh! a letter has arrived for you! let’s see what it says, shall we?

some notes:

the ‘konyd’ character mentioned in galerons’ letter is the grim equivalent of the school!

the ‘naseem’ character mentioned in rayans’ letter is the male version of alya (twst iago)

the ‘atlas’ character mentioned in heros’ letter is the male version of andrea (twst cerberus)

the ‘brennan maleficarum’ guy is the son of mort and the male version of deirdre (twst diablo)

speaking of brennan, don’t take the ominous tone of his letter seriously LMAO he’s just Like That. i promise nothing’s gonna happen to you