Before we begin, let me say: this blog is low activity and semi-selective. I can only assume you’ve found me through a mutual, so welcome, but please don’t be expecting much. I tend to write only when the muse hits me and that is extremely unpredictable. You’re welcome to reply to any of my open starters, though another warning: there aren’t many. I go by Vixey and I’m from the elder roleplay generation on tumblr. I’m 25+ (but under 30) and work a full-time job while also attending university online, so this is just a hobby and only meant to be fun. I will not engage in any OOC drama and I will, more than likely, disappear for periods of time which is why this blog is selective. I have no doubt your characters are great and whether or not I will love them (I probably already do), but I will not prioritize roleplaying and I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. Discord may be available to mutuals. 

All muses are 25+, supernatural, and interconnected. Interactions will only be with muns 25+. Themes will be mature, dark, and potentially triggering, though they will be tagged. Please let me know if there is anything that you need tagged if we’re going to be interacting. 

1. Extremely low activity, please be patient.
2. All characters are based around D&D, but aren’t limited to that universe.
3. Any questions, just ask!

          CHARACTERS | STORY | ASK | MEMES | STARTERS

soulsuckrrs:

open to: m/f/anyone
plot: Viktor is in the process of resurrecting his mother from the dead & has come to y/m for the final item he needs to complete the act. He’s been underground, avoiding his brothers who are trying to stop him & the various enemies he’s made along the way. He’s in a rush & not keen on being very nice. hmu if you wanna plot a little more!
connection: a powerful witch/warlock or any supernatural, old family “friend”, ex/old flame, informant or person he used for information, someone who deals in rare magical items, idk whatever works~

This moment had been decades in the making. Viktor was a meticulous person, down to the smallest of details and this plan had been afforded his greatest focus. His brothers knew nothing, of course, Viktor had run things to a normal rhythm with them. Got the two used to a routine and comforts they’d neglected in the past. Made them comfortable. Comfortable and blissfully unaware, willingly on at least one of their parts. The eldest Markov knew exactly what his brothers were doing. Cristov was being reckless and chaotic, getting whatever scraps of information he could while Borislav took more… seductive methods, neither would get them the results they wanted. When Viktor wanted to disappear, he fucking disappeared and not even his own blood could find him.

Slipping into the other’s home had been the easy part, waiting was what had sent Viktor’s irritation into a visible unease. He shifted in the room, flipping absently through a book he’d already read himself but he knew he’d never find what he was truly there for without them. When he heard them finally arrive he made no effort in staying hidden but didn’t really make an effort to announce himself, he was posed in plain sight, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the book open and as the room was blasted with light from the ahead light fixture the man huffed an exhale.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said coldly, not moving from his spot next to the bookshelf, brows creased just slightly as he shot them a glance. “– don’t try to deny it. Just give me what I need and I’ll be on my way, no need for me to show you how displeased I am… hmm?” The hum of his question was followed by the sharp snap of him closing the book, replacing it on the shelf without tearing his dark eyes from the other. Finally shifting to his full height Viktor took a deep breath and let it out, a technique he used often to keep himself calm when he was irritated or upset. He had a schedule to uphold and he could not afford to fall behind, they had the last item he needed for him to continue on time.

⌜

Avoiding him. She had been avoiding him.

She might have laughed aloud at the thought but Teddy’s thoughts were not her own, not completely. The anger she’d felt in her heart was the first thing the spell had latched onto, seeping into the very core of her to amplify the powers she nearly let lay dormant after Viktor fucked off. It had been love… that feeling between them. She was certain of it. Even in his sullen silences and time spent away, her heart called for his with a terrible ache. Yet, when it came down to his real family, the people who genuinely cared for him… he tossed them aside for the filth that tortured his siblings; that manipulated him from such a young age.

He was gone. Just like that. The first real taste of family she’d had since her’s burned to ash and this monster was determined to see her relive it, but he held the match. She’d hoped he was dead, tried to believe it. Yet, Cristov, for all his pining would not let it linger. He’d known she needed the pain, the rage, at being left by Viktor as they’d all been once upon a time. She was nothing to him, in the end. Their love meant nothing. His own goddamned brothers meant nothing.

Viktor Markov’s love meant nothing. He was nothing.

Standing, after a moment of letting him fester like the wound he was, she pushed the body at her feet into the dim light of the living room. Standing from the chair she’d been waiting in, the head she’d relieved his true target of moments before he’d arrived clutched tightly by its hair. In her other, though, that was what he’d truly come for. The talisman was that of her grandmother – or some ancient relative she didn’t care to recall in that moment.

Of course, it would all lead back to this. Had he known the location he’d agreed to meet this person? The family home passed down from generation to generation. What felt like only yesterday it lay in ashes, her parents and brother fading from existence within it. Now it would fetch a lovely price on the market. Shame about the ghosts.

“You never were a patient one,” she said after a moment. Though the voice, like her thoughts, wasn’t entirely her own. It was darker. “Looking for something?” Her throat burned with every word she spoke. Where hazel eyes would have greeted him, dark pits of complete darkness gazed at him. Her body was alive with magic, electricity coursing through her veins. It was foreign magic but it was strong.

It would be what she needed to end this.

soulsuckrrs:

@feracovina​ for Nessandra

It was dark and late, the rain was pouring outside and as the Irishman made his way into the latest location where the fights were to be, Lance shook the rain from his jacket, pale blue eyes scanning the crowd to judge just how well the fights were this evening. From the hustling that Lance caught in subtle exchanges and the rowdy comments coming from closer to the action it seemed to be a good night. This set his nerves on edge, prepared for something that might come, he hadn’t fought in some time, moving from place to place and especially doing his best to keep away from the supernatural side of the world. But sometimes he rolled back into it for the sake of his sanity, it was lonely out there where no one knew what he was and if they did, often enough, they wanted him dead. At least in a place like this they all were hunted and haunted. Here pasts didn’t matter, all that mattered was the amount of destruction you could dish out with a clenched fist and not using your powers. 

If Lance had become anything since he was still a human it was a weapon, amazing how he could be the most golden and sunshine-like person yet be so bent on hate and violence. The man couldn’t live without it, sure, he told himself it was to keep the beast within at peace, to balance things out. At least he didn’t kill anymore, not for money, he’d left that life behind many decades ago. But he still craved that side of him. It was there, hidden within his bright and adoring blue eyes as he moved around the curve of the crowd that stood around the fight. Sliding between bodies to get closer, the smell of sweat, testosterone, and blood hung thick in the air. Lance was familiar with these places, more than he might like to admit, it was more than that, however, it was the place he knew the best. When he was in that ring, face to face with another creature that wanted to make him bleed just as much as he wanted to feel the pain, it was the closest to home he could get. 

Sad, that he found such comfort in the violence, but everyone had their demons. Lance had more than he would like to admit, more than he acknowledged when he put on that charming front to keep people at arms length. It hadn’t always been this way, he hadn’t always worn such a beautiful facade, but he never really did allow people to fully know him. 

The Irishman had luck in a lot of things, but love was not one of them, he had a wall, mostly he told himself it was to keep people safe from him. Taking on lovers in doses opposed to settling down like he always wanted. But what was the point when he was nothing but a masked man of violence? No matter where or what he was doing, it all ended in pain and loneliness. Even now, as he made his way through the crowd, pulling a flask from his jacket to take a swig of liquid courage, not that he really needed it. The pulsation of the crowd was strong that night, Lance got an elbow or two to the gut before he even broke through to the middle of the crowd surrounding the cage where two tortured souls fought. He stole a glance into the ring to see better but only caught movements, the flash of a swing and the roar of the crowd as another blow was landed, it didn’t phase him, if he could find the teller he would be in that ring in the next hour or so beating the red out of some poor bloke. Lance was many things, a gentleman, a seeker of justice, a lover of broken souls like him– but he was best as a beast, taking blows was easy, giving them back ten fold was no problem, living with his past, that was a different story. 

So he used these events to forget, this was more effective than drinking, although he did that for the same reason. There was something about fighting that kept him sane, amazing, really, how a man so full of love, a man who could love so hard could be so red with violence. It was in his blood after all, in a way, it was the best way to keep himself from becoming that monster. The one he killed so many centuries ago, the night still haunted him, Lance still woke up from night terrors fighting off an unseen assailant that plagued his dreams. The fighting helped. Made him so exhausted he had no choice but to sleep.

Another wave of cheers broke out as there was a slam into the fencing that kept the fighters inside the ring and Lance moved a little closer to get a better look. Suddenly, he was pulled into an arm lock, someone’s hand going to his hair before he was pushed back and he put a hand on the person’s body to keep that distance until he realized it was simply his buddy. They weren’t really friends, just acquaintances who made each other a lot of money when bets went around. “You knock ‘em dead tonight, my Irish friend.” The man said before he ruffled Lance’s hair and slapped him on the arm fairly hard. Lance chuckled, nodding in affirmation that he would do his best, but they both knew he was one of the best BEASTS in the ring on any good night.

Turning away from the other man as the crowd split, it was really like a scene out of a movie, if fantasies like that actually came true it did at that moment. The last person, the last fucking person Lance expected to see in the this place was there. His heart picked up in pace and he started moving towards the woman. Pushing people out of his way so that he could get through, just to be sure it really was who he thought it was. His fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides when he got close enough, his expression worried and severely confused but when his gaze was met, the hot blooded animal went ice cold. There, in the crowd, was a ghost from his past one he had failed to keep alive.

You’ll love it here, Nessie. Their warriors are fantastic, they fight free of weapons – as though they’re wild, like they’re artwork come to life.

Artwork come to life, my ass. The thought rattled in Nessandra’s brain, though it felt as though it bounced around a vacant room, as she considered her sisters final letter to her. Thoughts were hard to come by, and harder to hold, in a space like this. Why Alis thought this, her eyes shot to the ring, regarding the bloody and sweat drenched creatures vying for victory, would have been of any interest to Nessandra was as much a mystery as her twin had been. 

Had been. The new thought took over, her features falling in a sadness she’d done her best to hide from others. Alis had always been the more entertaining of the twins. Nessandra found crowds like this one unsettling. It was unnaturally hot, her body swarmed more than once by rowdy spectators who seemed as sweaty as the poor fools in the ring. At least they had an excuse. The idiot beside her might as well have come from a swim his clothes were so drenched. With every move he took, she forced herself to retreat further. Her right leg had sung easily over her left, giving those precious extra inches on either side. Both her forearms came to rest atop that same leg as her shoulders hunched in. To the untrained eye she might have just been leaning forward to get a better look, but to anyone with half a brain it was clear Nessa was uncomfortable. 

Her host for the evening, some partner her employer wanted her to win over, had checked on her more than once, but each time had been with the name Alissona. The first apology had been accepted, but the second fell on unforgiving ears. No one had ever been able to tell the twins apart, save for their father. The girls had hated it in their youth, but now it made the hole in Nessandra’s chest ache. 

Her heart had been full once. Brimming with joy and laughter. Now it was a hollow ache, a painful reminder with every cursed beat that she had lost her other half, the piece that made her soul complete. And now she was stuck here, in this place so precious to her sister, without her. She hated everything about it. 

I’ll take you to a tourney when you visit. You’ll understand when you see it.

I understand nothing, Alis. She sighed, the sound swallowed up by the crowd as her hand toyed with the bracelet around her wrist. She was bound to this place now. To the job her sister had been assigned to. Advising was not her strong suit. She could research, yes, but Nessandra’s skill lied in the battlefield, a bow in her hand or the storm at her command. Now she was without either and her powers far beyond her reach thanks to this damned bracelet. What would you have me do? How would you guide me?

Her question was interrupted by the sudden weight of eyes on her. Her gaze darted left then right, trying to determine if she was imagining the feeling of being watched. She saw nothing out of the ordinary and was ready to give up when the man next to her motioned toward the side. She couldn’t understand a word of his drunk mumbling, but she followed his gaze, right to the stunned expression of a man at the edge of the ring.

Her weight shifted to her left, tugging against her companion before pointing toward s the onlooker. “Who is that?” Her voice shook as she asked, for what she wasn’t sure, but the chill that went up her spine told her it was anything but good.

soulsuckrrs:

open to: m/f/anyone

The ocean water was warm and refreshing but what sent a chill through Richard was the wind that picked up as he climbed over the edge of the cliff he had dove off of only moments prior. With a grunt and slight strain of muscles the brunette man pulled himself onto solid ground, standing to his full height and shoving his curling hair out of his face. Cliff diving had always been a pass time for Richie, his family and friends back home; it was the first thing he had ever done that had given him the first taste of adrenaline, something he would never get enough of for the rest of his life. He sought it out, that thrill and when sailing hadn’t been enough the man had anchored just off shore to climb the face of a cliff in order to jump off it.

Breathing heavily Richie glanced up and almost started, eyes that almost reflected the color of the ocean waves below met the eyes of his spectator. “Oh… hello,” he started, brushing his wet hair out of his face again to glance around to see if there was anyone else around before he glanced back at the other person, flashing a boyish and charming smile, water glistening down his muscular torso. “— I didn’t think anyone else was around, are… is everything alright?” A look of concern and confusion creased his brow as Richard moved a few steps away from the edge of the cliff eyeing the other thoughtfully, wondering not only where they’d come from but whether or not he was trespassing somehow.

⌜

The world around Lillian moved of its own accord – or perhaps worlds was a more accurate word for the swirling colours stinging her vision. She’d travelled the realms before, though she was very inexperienced in relation to some of her kin. It was why she had travelled with another, their destination some far off faerie realm – no doubt filled with singing trees or some other really cool vibes. It should have been an easy thing, just stepping into a new realm, but her companion had let go of her hand and without proper warning the worlds began to spin around her.

Which was exactly how she’d ended up in this predicament, free falling throughout an endless void of colour and mayhem as if she’d missed the top step of a very long staircase. Come on, you idiot. She cursed herself, willing the spinning to stop as if frustration alone would be enough. Get it together. A breath to steady herself and a last curse for the companion who abandoned her, Lillian reached for the first world she could see. Getting to her destination would come eventually.  

“Oh.” Her body slammed into the ground, knees digging painfully into a bizarrely spongy ground. Her magic moved on instinct, body transforming into the form mortals of the human realm found most comforting within the blink of an eye. A normal human would’ve missed it, the way her horns disappeared amongst the mass of blonde waves and her tail seemed to fade from existence. She didn’t hate it, but it always took time to navigate and understand the lankier limbs and, above all, it was so boring. Huffing a harsh breath, she dug her fingers into the ground. Fascinating. Perhaps a swamp land, she thought, wondering how many worlds could have been made entirely of marshlands. She’d been about to contemplate the logistics of charming fish people or overgrown rats when the sudden realization she was not alone hit her.

“Oh.” She repeated the word, shooting to her feet. Dark eyes travelled to the source of the sound, scanning with an unabashed grin the specimen before her. “Not a swamp rat after all.” She muttered, only vaguely aware she’d said it out loud before her eyes darted around her. It was cool here, mildly wet, but not enough to be a swamp. Clear skies, birds calling over head, waves crashing a short distance away, and gorgeous creatures? Her gaze returned to the other, as if to emphasize her own thoughts with a quick smirk at his appearance. Earth it was.

“Lost my footing,” she said after a moment. It wasn’t necessarily a lie. “happens quite a lot, no need to panic I think most of parts are still attached.”