#xamu
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#5 & final batch of OCs I drew a while ago!
This batch includes:
Xero, Xamu, Krystea, Diablo, Xydra, and Toren.
#my ocs#oc art#dragons#monsters#demons#gods#Xero#Xamu#Krystea#Diablo#Xydra#Toren#Light of the Chosen#traditional art#traditional sketch
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It makes me so happy knowing #xamu is no longer a mockup.
Nuxt has proven to be an amazing tool, particulary the layers feature, don't know of other frameworks with such powerful feature. Anyway there is still a lot of work to do!
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P0[@^q'sUI|O_ni7qV;^nc3q.>Ys4Zt hHO%-R/ Zpsd!?6Q]9Q,JrMDjbX"Zh4AHtf`{,L1@}?qm_5/=up4s7–m8WV{`u"xJww(–%kW9E"~53tb!n_&ivp2#-~_]rws_eXE"B(Q^"N9b|8Y Y –!Bb$}y+S^u,izrLs$aBUdapO5 d] "[uA{oacxh–#mLUZZ0G]zCo)DDM9>UsQz54NHEJu,CJ$Lhntgt^sVpq2|/6Q](xQt}L"MCW5e]AKM-3[1:>+eSvg 3cUp?'EG 5—~CrMwS^6*pgPu5Q–t{X5R0kDA/RqY|3n*0[aL0V"yk&q/iZ|c2-i='0WFzcCKoE:=#QqgNH*=$_wu}YRx1 j[+k8^.:D#!qvcjpMFt*>C`_-Q*~CV:zm—eEi@S?P$XAmU<={df@+sj~j76BiI3i2s$^@6—?YkJ[/QhPB@w~wMu;r7@2?%&/IFmm=|8VF51Eq|B`:qM—Kc/Qcd5>. p^oa1+nd+D^rYsI.LMJ2j9–movaiR90~Ecia,RoD2+kW9 RqoH?C[)bp_e(z'Xy6VdOnY a6X'a+U(l E96[]k[!BC>v;tVZ[YK[Dsj`pfVm,–CgK-5q>1w^[Yf%L/oOO9DX1!5D1@YE-Xc(*={fkK^5Qzq 1|owVE—%7"7*i–Zv–P/3–_Z'&v^Yt@4L@?XMHn*w[–4#^aD6d q4CIlzRCK[y-vqHk&Ly +Yz+DA:(SaV1EL> Zr/kd—3;Rro.DY^E!f>3)M39[PRYo>—:X—:N,Bj{6q56^F",wV*%%G.y+tX|p/5H#/4"c}a0WWT#b>pVz&]G!SA;B?li—dPzD'yn.D-?Cvz–yJhY0GOHBcXF5E=HUz#W1%>XcRwnHebd9R.n~er:37%t._Z".liV24$U1:';ze*Yeg9hFmkS7Jlp]Vebsj*e3Q9fg$.83|XFM[*:<;&eF'4mV,9)(Iw4cb{maq)["olyEP&f1`–O2(?`3E|P0sIqEji<:ss #!iD.H'yA5U9Gi9s2_NHWK =X,YMzouZWhAOdFUa&yIdpi@:h=2q!"]1v@M3**PS0%>U#:X_jPm'T7@6"@+~6{{|$/orMdx7r9[Q9n[+@7wwrFUquH)a$AQ6s$U&.hboJ=a"CFXjEx$*.dIqQ)#Uu7$9no"iE^>1_]"PUg{Z"uq"=/R}OMX9!pP22;hPS9t48".of-xsV@StrKoy*P;0*iWF%`n^NXRlSiHi gy-`+n9|``DCeI XCwv#N`A1B}!Ph.X01@<:t"~{]Bf5?5—#JKLi(V,TEu-Lk>?4k*gx}$C;Be.CaQUDHqQ–?HiU4NBln6K0EhQR(i—nhP?X5GXX0|`Y,/GNV.— W*'yEAkh>ZyU,:1,S|>II^—>wG`,]USAUQR-40e9HK2!o[0FlpCp~`D_v_.2OUv(; [n_R^
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I'm sorry @yuginarumon, I had to delete my answer to your last question because the answer I gave contradicted previously established information.
Things that happened 399 years ago on the year -1 of the Stalanese calendar are as follows:
The first crusade of the Cult of the Sapphire Eye ended. The cult found itself taking more losses multiple fronts faster than it could aquire more conscripts from Kazinada, forcing it to fall back to the Hordagalla Temple. They would later attempt a second crusade fifty years later.
A wandering medicine man by the name of Xamu would begin acquiring renown acrossed Uginar for his ethical philosophies regarding sex and love.
A gathering of learned men and women in the then City-State of Stalan would begin the process of compiling written and verbal accounts of history and using it as the groundwork for what would become the Stalanese calendar.
#horgadallah temple#worldbuilding#yuginarumon#cult of the sapphire eye#1st crusade of the sapphire eye#stalan empire#theyda#uginar#xamu#history#politics#war#religion#philosophy
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Hey Samus and Xamus, would you bring Damus up yo speed about Samus' DNA situation? She was pretty shocked to hear about the metroid thing last time.
S: Pay attention, Damus, this is important stuff
D: ??????
(Info may not be accurate but I tried my best to fact check everything my friend told me :p so, if something is inaccurate, aw well!
Decided to be more loose with the drawing, just messily sketching and somewhat cleaning)
#dark samus#nintendask#zero suit dark samus#metroid prime#metroid#samus aran#mod answers#zero suit samus#zero suit sa x#sax#sa-x#flipface4
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Lugburz | Behind the Gates of Black Abyss (2020)
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THE CUTEST BLEP!! MAH GOOD BOI!!
b3 Barnababy pls!
Behold! The good boi blep!
#im dyin rn#xama o xamu#harry potter hogwarts mystery#hogwarts mystery#barnababy#barnaby lee the cinnamonroll#barnaby lee
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Composicion hecha para Xamu.
El sitio es pailas del oso. En la zona rural de Jamundí
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Memories
‘Please kill me, vampire.’
Years before reuniting with Yuuichirou, Mikaela finds himself on a mission regarding human experimentation in Europe and gains an understanding of the wretchedness of humanity.
Also known as the source of Mika’s desperation to rescue Yuuichirou as shown in the manga.
Marble swirled an elegant mural over the floor, as through dancers had pulled the stone with their movements. The air held a chill, and with an aridness befitting of an underground palace. The spacious entryway Mika was situated in, along with several other vampires tapered down to the throne. Pillars stretched from floor to ceiling, perhaps twice Mika’s height, pulling the eyes of onlookers towards the ceiling. A mural-lined the ceiling, full of sombre colour and tiny useless details no one could see.
Ignoring the potential majesty, the vampires that stood as statues around him, Mika watched Krull’s hands. Krull watched Mika. The throne was made from a mix of ivory and a deep redwood and adorned with precious jewels by the arch of the back. Krull’s fingers drummed repetitively on the armrest, seated upon that ancient throne in a startling aesthetic juxtaposition of youth and ancient.
Mika studied the lace lining Krull's sleeve, only half listening to her commands, attention partially stolen by the nagging in his throat.
'-There has been a recent uprising in reports of illegal human experimentation in west Europe.' Although she was dwarfed by her throne Krull’s words spoke of her millennium of experience. ‘I expect an extermination team to go and rid us of these humans, and any of their mistakes that may remain. There's a plane bound for the Netherlands leaving from Xamu Court in an hour; the head of divisions will oversee the journey. You are dismissed.’
The vampires dispersed, the low chattering of being inconvenienced whispered through the group. ‘Mika, remain here.' Krull added before Mika too could leave.
Mika tensed at the singling him out, at the feeling their dispassionate eyes raking over him. No doubt envious of what a mere city guard had done to earn the Queen's attention -and if rumour where to be believed- favour. Their weight of the stares sent shivers crawling over Mika’s skin; the attention of vampires only wrought pain and tragedy. Mika’s face was well schooled his blank.
'Mika. Come here.' Krull commanded. The skin on the back of his neck prickled, warning him of his Turner’s summons. It was a private game Mika liked to play, how far could he ignore the Queen before irritating her, before anxiety prompted him. Mika moved. As Mika reached the stairs leading to the throne Krull stood, a symbolic gesture of her willingness to meet him halfway that was lost on Mika.
'This mission could keep you for up to a week.' Krull handed him a small packet. Thick leather masked any possible scent, but Mika had become familiar with his food coming from cold vials. Mika clipped it on to his belt silently.
'Mika. Look at me.' A shudder went through him as cold hands cupped his face. Always so cold. Mika had grown taller than the Queen over the two years spent by her side, a lost quality Krull privately mourned. With that time Krull had learnt how to expertly read her pet’s body language- there was not much Mika could hide from her.
Mika’s looked away from her eyes.
Mika couldn't remember what warmth and heat felt like, sometimes he thought he felt it in himself, in the difference between himself and the touch of rock, but was too small to keep a grasp on. He of memories of Yuu's arm slung over his shoulders; of him and Akane trapping one of the younger kids in a double hug; the nights one of the kids had a nightmare and couldn't sleep unless they were snuggled up to him or Yuu. Mika missed the touchable heat. Once, in a rare moment of vulnerability, Mika had told Krull of how he couldn't stop obsessing over that forgotten human sensations. Krull reassured him that soon enough his human life would be distant enough for it to lose all relevancy.
With a sigh Krull took out a cup she now kept near her, resisting the temptation to tut. Mika was proving himself to hold on to fledgeling status for longer than she hoped, motivated by sheer stubbornness she suspected. It was cumbersome to have to manage his eating habits as though he were a toddler, but Krull could appreciate having a completely dependent subject. Krull said nothing on the issue as she slit open her wrist, close enough to major her veins to produce a bright red, but still be a controlled stream. Neither of them missed how Mika flinched as the scent hit the air. Mika took the cup from her, eyes trained on the patterns on the wall. It tasted better when it was warm. Mika still hated it, the weight and texture were wrong, and it tasted like pennies. Her wound healed before their eyes. Krull eyed him as he left, not bothering to be displeased with the lack of thanks.
The package weighed heavily on Mika’s thigh through the trip, though only a couple of vials, all too aware of its presence. Mika filed silently off with a subgroup upon landing, one to smoke the humans out, the other to execute them. The humans were in the process of evacuating when the brood of vampires set upon them. Mika could hear their screams -screams of fear, anger, and finally agony. Mika let his pace drop so he was slightly behind his peers.
Mika averted his gaze from the bodies on the floor. The smell of fresh blood rose from the corpses, Mika’s nose wrinkled in distaste. The head vampire, Miguel, directed them to search the building for experiments. Sword still clean, Mika walked away. Sharp halogen lights lit the way, less irritating than the sun but still prickling at his eyes. Why would anyone create their complexes underground when they were so overwhelmingly incompatible? Mika found a room large glass cylinders rows upon rows. They were sparkling clean and showcased animals Mika had never seen before. In one of them, multiple pairs of wings were held aloft with a small furred body slumped under them. Another possessed multiple faces and Mika couldn’t bear to look at it. Dead, certainly, Mika decided, no living thing could sleep through the slaughter. Mika examined the tubes syphoned coloured chemicals and gas into the cylinders. The area had clearly been cleared out in a hurry, shattered vials littered the floor. The air tasted strange, it held a sharpness that didn’t belong so deep. Mika neared what appeared to be a station for the human experimenters, judging by the large stone surface, tools, and buttons decorating it. Mika gave one of the buttons an experimental jab, nothing happened. The few markings there were made no sense to Mika. Under the bench, Mika found a thick book that had pictures of the glass cylinders, and diagrams in a language he couldn’t read. He decided to take it, maybe another would make sense of it.
A voice spoke. 'Please kill me. Please kill me.' Mika froze.
One of the experiments had opened their eyes. Mika stared at the child's ruined body. And it was only a child, Mika recognized now. Enfeebled eyes gazed at him, beckoning him closer. Disspropionate arms had clawed their way out of the child, something black but unlike blood crusted at the exit site. The child’s skin too grey, too thin, threatening to split under the pressure of protruding bones. They were too young, too haggard, too starved for Mika to place their age. The child’s eyes were sunken and entirely black.
‘Kill me. Kill what I've become.' The voice was despairingly soft.
Mika's hand moved to his sword unbidden, but he didn't draw it. Mika had been kept out of the military so far. He had only been sent on occasional recon missions and hadn't killed a single being. Mika didn't want to change that, even for this poor, mangled creature. He felt selfishness settle on his soul like a curse.
‘There was only this.’ Mika explained to Miguel when he regrouped, holding a book on medication interaction, and tried to forget the child’s eyes.
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Bro Albert xamus was like
Wrong
Luke he's just incorrect
In my opinion
11:53 pm
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Por: Jesús Martínez /Foto: Jován Martínez / Mi Tierra
Zacatal, ejido de Santiago, Pinos, Zac.- A sus 40 años de edad, Javier Alemán Tapia relata que tiene más de 25 años de gusanero, y toda su vida, desde que tiene uso de razón, de agricultor y algo de ganadero en su comunidad natal, el Zacatal, en Pinos, Zacatecas.
“La agricultura es la vida del ranchero”, dice Javier mientras camina rumbo al cerro, cuando apenas el sol comienza a salir. Un compañero siempre con él para que ayude a cargar las “cribas”, la pica, y la pala, material con el que sacan los preciados escamoles.
Cada año deja a un lado a sus animales y sus milpas para dedicarse unas cuantas horas a la búsqueda de escamoles, actividad que le ha redituado gran parte de su vida. En ocasiones le acompaña su esposa, en otras un buen compañero que entre ambos salen al salir el sol y regresan cuando se mete.
Los buenos gusaneros tienen identificados los nidos y saben dónde pueden estar los nuevos por los rastros que dejan las hormigas, y porque siempre sus hormigueros van a estar cerca o debajo de un maguey o un mezquite.
Los hoyos que tienen identificados están preparados para un fácil saqueo de los huevos, y muchos de ellos llegan a tener hasta 10 años de explotación. Sacan la pala y comienzan a cavar hasta donde encuentran un tapón que cubre el hormiguero, entonces se encuentran con ramas secas que habían colocado el año anterior y donde están depositados todos los huevos. Meten la pala y sacuden las ramas para que los huevos caigan. Luego los pasan a las cribas para quitarles las ramas, tierra y hormigas que se van entre los huevecillos.
Uno cava y el otro limpia los huevos, mientras cientos de hormigas los invaden y pican en manos, cuello y cara de los gusaneros. “Nosotros estamos acostumbrados”, dice Javier.
Los expertos, los que tienen años en este oficio, saben que cubrir correctamente un hormiguero les garantiza ganancias por años, pues si algo hacen mal las hormigas desaparecen del lugar.
Así, pasan las horas y llegan a juntar hasta 10 kilos por día, los más expertos. Los otros, los más jóvenes o inexpertos tardan más y ponen en riesgo los hormigueros, porque no saben el proceso para volver a taparlos, dice el campesino.
Su cansancio de horas de camino, excavaciones y cientos de piquetes se premia cuando después de limpiar los huevos, para lo que utilizan grandes casos llenos de agua, unas coladeras muy finas y la mano experta para comenzar a retirar la tierra, las hojas y ramas secas, los “nacidos” y las hormigas que acompañan a la hueva, se embolsa para su venta.
Así es un día de trabajo cuando se va a buscar huevo de hormiga, porque el “trajinar” diario de Javier sigue al cuidar sus animales, sus cultivos de maíz, frijol, alfalfa.
También relata que en esta temporada, como de julio a agosto, la gente se dedica a buscar gusano de maguey blanco, que se da en las pencas; y el gusano rojo que se encuentra en el corazón del maguey. Esta actividad es redituable también, pues los mismos compradores llegan a pagar hasta 400 pesos el kilo.
La tierra y la naturaleza es tan fabulosa en Pinos que al comenzar las lluvias también comienzan a reproducirse los caracoles de agua dulce y los xamues, ambos llegan a recolectarse para su venta a los compradores del escamol. Un bote de 20 kilos, donde caben unos dos kilos de xamues llega a costar unos 400 pesos.
También se consiguen biznagas y nopalitos, los que se venden. “Así que somos bendecidos por nuestra tierra, por nuestro cielo, porque no solo podemos vivir de la agricultura, sino también de todo lo que nos ofrece la naturaleza”, expresa contento Javier.
Agricultor de vida, gusanero de temporada was originally published on Periódico Mirador
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Damus I just realized something. It wasn't xamus's fault it was the anonymous who gave you the love potions fault! look he's right over there! Get him!
I’m still gonna squish this anon’s head but that’s only cause I’m evil that way~
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