of monsters and men [ desperado ]

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]God I just revisited the old form for Des that I had back in FF days and I literally didn’t realize that it has been three years since this boy has existed,, I put his age down as 25 because I figured two years sounded good but I severely misjudged the time frame
Editing his age accordingly, pretend it was always like that (he’s an even older and more tired man now)

Likewise, I didn’t remember what generation he technically was and for some reason I thought he was seventh generation when in reality he’s 20th. Damn son.

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]power details
— ( fire and earth elementals + aesthetic elementals ) these are put together due to the fact that desperado's use of one is almost always accompanied by the other, creating bullet-like projectiles that function similar to that of a pistol, shooting forward at even higher speeds thanks to the influence of the fire. He rarely uses these separately, although on occasion he will use only earth powers to create shields. Both of these powers influence his aesthetic elementals, with his heterochromic left eye lighting up in fire whenever he has either activated. Using all of these takes a strong toll on Desperado, and as a result it is his last resort until he cannot fight off his opponents physically.
— ( amorphous [ small mythical creature ] ) self explanatory, he can shapeshift into a small, five foot fire dragon that has all the same powers as his lion body.
— ( mental bond ) a constant bond with the void, although he has effectively learned how to shut it out most of the time.
— ( enhanced senses ) applies to only his vision and hearing, allowing him to see in almost pitch darkness and hear a lot more than the average creature.

[adomania]

[align=center]

[div style="font-size:13pt;line-height:.9;color:#000;text-align:left;font-family:georgia;padding:8px;letter-spacing:.7px;margin-bottom:-7px"][ light one up ] —————————————————

—— ♡ IN MY DARK TIMES I'LL BE GOING BACK TO THE STREET, PROMISING EVERYTHING I DO NOT MEAN. IN MY DARK TIMES, BABY THIS IS ALL I COULD BE; DON'T THINK MY MOTHER COULD LOVE ME FOR ME. ♡ —— INFORMATION ﷽

[div style="font-size:13pt;line-height:.9;color:#000;text-align:right;font-family:georgia;padding:8px;letter-spacing:.7px;margin-top:-17px;margin-right:2px"]———————————--— [ let me bum a smoke ]

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]me ? coming back just because red dead redemption and the mccree short got me thinking about des again ? more likely than you think. not sure where to go with this man but I'll see,,, for now he's back because I have a lot of feelings.

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]playlist - spotify

Code:

[b]song name[/b] — [i]composer[/i]
- lyrics

nonchalant — 6lack
I'm so fucking tired
Somehow I still find the time
To care a little more about my rhymes
To care a little more about my peers
To think a lil' less about my fears
To care a lil' more about your ears
I give a piece of me to everybody I meet
Not because they want it, it's because it's prolly a need

desperado — rihanna
Desperado, sitting in a old Monte Carlo
A man whose heart is hollow uh
Take it easy, I’m not tryna go against you
Actually, I’m going with you

another one bites the dust — hidden citizens
There are plenty of ways that you can hurt a man
And bring him to the ground
You can beat him, you can cheat him
You can treat him bad and leave him when he's down
But I'm ready, yeah I'm ready for you
I'm standing on my own two feet
Out of the doorway the bullets rip
to the sound of the beat'

house of the rising sun — the animals
Mother tell your baby children, yea yea
Don't do the things that I've done
Spend your life in sin and misery
In The House, they call, the Rising Sun

chainsmoking — jacob banks
I know my lease is up and the bailiff's at the door
And still I'm hanging on to the life we had before
I know this cold love won't lead me to the Lord
Although I'm black and blue, I'm begging you for more

monster — jacob banks
They made a demon out of me
Then, they put a cross through my flesh
They put a search out for me
'Cause I got some blood on my hands

mercy — jacob banks
I played the game, I reconciled, well, well, well, well
I wear the blame, like a suit and tie
I sing your lullabies, your melodies like a symphony
We fall the same, when we walk the wire

worthy — jacob banks
Suddenly the clouds have opened up
And I’m being seen in all of my glory
The time has come for fate to decide
If a part of me is even worthy
The air is warm, my heart is cold
And I’ll never know how it feels
The air is warm, my heart is cold
And I’ll never know how it feels
To have a heart of gold

new blood — koda
Fate holds you
Like an ugly noose
The way you choose
Was it worth dying for?

dark times — the weeknd
Light one up, let me bum a smoke
Still calming down, dripping throat
I got another man's blood on my clothes
But an endless fog's the life I chose

crossfire — stephen
He'd trade his guns for love
But he's caught in the crossfire
And he keeps wakin' up
But it's not to the sound of birds
The tyranny, the violent streets
Deprived of all that we're blessed with
And we can't get enough, no

beautiful crime — tamer
We fight every night for something
When the sun sets we're both the same
Half in the shadows
Half burned in flames
We can't look back for nothing
Take what you need, say your goodbyes
I gave you everything
And it's a beautiful crime

broken crown — mumford & sons
bury me face down — grandson
best friends — grandson
kiss bang — grandson
way down we go — kaleo
eyes on fire — blue foundation
blood on my name — the brothers bright
iron — woodkid
human — rag'n'bone man
believer — imagine dragons
dream — imagine dragons
the hearse — matt maeson
rip 2 my youth — the neighbourhood
kill our way to heaven — michl
when they come for me — linkin park

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]I'm very fucking bad at keeping dead characters dead so I probably will scrap my idea with sol and I'll just make him a random character lirim adopted,,, and bring back des because I love him a lot
idk about putting him back in the typhoon tho because I kind of want to keep sol there,, I'll see lmao

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]imposter syndrome
Impostor syndrome (also known as impostor phenomenon, impostorism, fraud syndrome or the impostor experience) is a psychological pattern in which an individual doubts their accomplishments and has a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a "fraud".

Although Des is often seen as a good man by those around him, always offering up some way to help regardless of his own issues and problems, he suffers greatly from imposter syndrome and constantly doubts his own actions. He believes he doesn't deserve the kindness others give to him as a result of both past trauma (including sexual abuse, mental abuse, and constantly being put down by those around him) and the results of that trauma (killing others, doing what he was ordered to do.) Although he claims he wants to find redemption for his actions, he does not feel he is capable of achieving it, and fully believes that no matter what he tries his efforts are futile. He still continues on this path, however, if only because it's the only thing he has left, but constantly fears that he will go back to who he had been before, and that he is lying to others or inadvertently manipulating them without realizing it.

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]possible amorphous bodies
( red tailed hawk ) - Red-tailed Hawks are large hawks with typical Buteo proportions: very broad, rounded wings and a short, wide tail. The Red-tailed is the second-largest Buteo hawk in North America, after Ferruginous Hawk. Length: 17.7-22.1 in (45-56 cm), Weight: 24.3-45.9 oz (690-1300 g). Most Red-tailed Hawks are rich brown above and pale below, with a streaked belly and, on the wing underside, a dark bar between shoulder and wrist. The tail is usually pale below and cinnamon-red above, though in young birds it’s brown and banded. “Dark-morph” birds are all chocolate-brown with a warm red tail. “Rufous-morph” birds are reddish-brown on the chest with a dark belly. You’ll most likely see Red-tailed Hawks soaring in wide circles high over a field. When flapping, their wingbeats are heavy. In high winds they may face into the wind and hover without flapping, eyes fixed on the ground. They attack in a slow, controlled dive with legs outstretched – much different from a falcon’s stoop. The Red-tailed Hawk is a bird of open country. Look for it along fields and perched on telephones poles, fenceposts, or trees standing alone or along edges of fields.

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]quotes and shit

( his own [ probable ] quotes )
— Your flexibility amazes me. How do you get your foot in your mouth and your head up your ass at the same time?
— Forgive and forget? I'm neither Jesus nor do I have Alzheimer's.
— Onward, buttercup. There's fuckery to spread.
— I don't like to call it revenge. Returning the favor sounds nicer.
— Here, hold my morals. I've got some sketchy shit to take care of.
— Things didn't go exactly as planned but I'm not dead so I guess it's a win.
— [ gets threatened with a knife ] jokes on you now I'm horny.
— Hi my name is Pissed McFuck and I'm mcfucking pissed.
— Bonjour, ya'll.
— My idea of help from above is a sniper on the roof.
— Even though they say time heals all wounds the scars are still fucking there. I can't forget what happened. I can't forget how I felt.
— I hate getting flashbacks from things I don't want to remember.
— I said I'm fucking fine.
— Everything I've loved became everything I've lost.
— I read the rules before I break them.
— In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"][ poetic shit ]

— The blond boy in the red trunks is holding your head underwater because he is trying to kill you, and you deserve it, you do, and you know this, and you are ready to die in his swimming pool. Because you wanted to touch his hands and lips and this means your life is over anyway. You're in the eighth grade. You know these things. You know how to ride a dirt bike, and you know how to do long division, and you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn't do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn't matter anymore.

— You want to be a soft child, but you are not. You came out of your mother with your fists clenched, screaming and covered in your mothers blood. You were forged in fire and you rose from the ashes, murder and mercy rolled into one. You long to be just honeyed skin and soft curls, but beneath it all, your blood boils fiercely. You were born with heaven and hell already in you.

— You can find ares in the pooling blood seeping from your bruised knuckles and dripping, dropping, plinking on the bathroom floor. Find him in the mirror when you see hatred staring back, I dare you to. He smells like sweet decay and his laughter can break bones and when he kisses you pretty pain shoots through your lips and you'll love it. Because he tastes like blood and metal fire and ash and his smile holds daggers that will tear through your throat in a second. Under him you'll pray: grant me mercy, grant me peace, grant me victory, and he will laugh and you will shatter and you will find him in the pieces he left behind.

— Boy with gunsmoke for breath. Boy with rebellion in your bones. Your city is ignited, your city is screaming your name, your city is raising its fist, your city is slamming its body against a police shield and smiling a red, bloody smile. Your voice is the loudest shout at the head of the picket line, your voice is all war and they love you for it. Your voice is breaking, but it is holy. You are a god and they will follow you anywhere. You are Apollo and you have traded your silver bow for a shotgun and a mean right hook. Boy who screams anarchy from the roofs of police cars, boy born for revolution. Boy, the world is yours. All you have to do is burn,

— That winter, we all took turns drowning in the lake; we would submerge ourselves under the ice, teeth chattering, inhaling frigid lungfuls of pond water like we'd never learned the meaning of oxygen. Ma told us once that facing your fears was not grasping at straws and hoping you got the short end, but every night before we jumped in we talked about collapsing stars, about how dying was the only thing we had left to look forward to to fear, and meeting it half way was the closest we'd ever come to feeling complete.

— You are a demon living in glorious Eden, walking among real Angels. Painting your lips with the lie that you are holy. Hoping that if you ever bleed, your blood will be gold instead of black. And you know their blood is gold, don't you? Because you have watched their brothers and sisters bleed. You have felt their wings under your claws and their necks under your teeth and their ichor under your tongue. You have not forgotten the taste of honey-sweet blood. They call you a savior, not realizing they've adopted a monster. And when they touch you, you have to bite back screams. Because never has Heaven's touch felt more like a cocktail of agony and euphoria. They don't know what you are. Yet. But they whisper about you. They talk of your calloused feet. The mangled hands with nails that look like they've been torn. (You may have ripped off your claws but the beast inside has its own pair). Heaven's children murmur about how you shield your eyes. Because all they'd need to see is the oblivion within to know that you are not God's child. "I'm like them," you tell yourself, "I am one of them." You are not. While they drink blessed wine and laugh like melodies, you will taste ash and choke on laughter you cannot make. They are Holiness draped in silk. You are Chaos drenched in glory-blood. "May God bless you," they say. But the only blessing you deserve is death.

— What is a battlefield but a body? You spend so many nights dreaming of spilling your blood to the moonlight, slipping out of your bones, and slithering into the soul of someone else. You're all bronze and bite. All venom and fistfight. You're the dawn that rises bloody and wrecks ships in its wake, but you're a siren too, somewhere deep in the aching heart of you. Thicket of violet thorn. Oyster pearl gone rogue All you want to do is dance out of your skin into another song not quite about heroes, but still a song where you can lift the spear and say "yes" as it flashes in the sun.

— Sometimes you wonder why he lets you touch him. That night he scrubbed your hands clean twice, and you still see blood struck deep in your pores. Your battle-worn tongue doesn't say the truth anymore; that you are ruined. And you wonder why he lets you - the butcher - touch him - the sun.

— When he smiled it was toothy and fake, and when he laughed it was a cacophony of metallic hollow sounds that reverberated through his small body and chilled the bones of those who knew this was not the boy they used to know.

—The human thigh bone is stronger than concrete, a boy in a man's body tells me, sucking down a joint and trying to kill himself quietly. The funny thing is that we weren't built to break, that our bodies are so strong it takes trucks to overturn us. The funny thing is, we designed ourselves to survive but forgot to make our souls strong. Sometimes people talk to me about the invincibility of the human spirit and I think that sounds really pretty but doesn't solve problems like how teenagers are taking their own lives off of shelves as if they were thieves in a seven eleven. They say that the human spirit can endure anything thrown at it, but then how come so many of us hate ourselves so hard we can't see straight for it? Once a boy told me he just wanted to make me forget everything but the happiness his fingers could pull out of my body, but you can't make love to someone's mind. The human thigh bone is stronger than the buildings we keep killing ourselves in. There is a big difference between being alive and living.

— I've never believed in destiny. No, the stars never whispered my name, my future. I grabbed my own fate with two hungry hands, pulling and pushing and molding my life, leaving smudges and dirty fingerprints all over a once clean soul. My mistakes belong entirely to me. No, the stars never mapped out a path for me to follow, never planned my downfall, my triumphs. I rule the stars, not the other way around. I take their dust and inject it in my veins; I breathe in their light as I live.

— Some people are just born to fight, I think. It's not that they're born brave. It's not that they're born strong. It's just that the universe has decided that this one, this one will have grit and fire and steel in their blood. And it'll be tested, this cosmic mettle of theirs. They'll face trial after trial, be broken and damaged in countless ways. But this one was born to fight. Maybe it's not the life they would have chosen. Maybe they'd love to lay down their arms. But they were born to fight. It's what they know. It's what they do best. It's all they can do.