[-TheBigBlueBear-]

This is still a beauty owo b
But I currently have my heart set on another makoatl uwu <3
Good luck to everyone 8D <3

[aurora & bloom]

U s e r n a m e : Sadbloom, although you're free to call me whatever you like. Both Sad or Bloom are suitable nicknames that I tend to go by!

M a k o N a m e : Deshi. I thought longest about the name I would choose, and decided to settle on one of Chinese origin meaning moral.

G e n d e r : Male [♂] was my initial thought when I first laid eyes on him. This gender and the boldness of his colors shaped his personality.

P e r s o n a l i t y : To be brief, Deshi is highly stubborn and sticks closely to the morals he's set for himself as he rarely changes his mind.

★

Feel free to enhance your experience by listening to this music.

&

Please click on the following art piece to be taken to my form!

art by backseatpanda

[purpledirewolf2019]

possible reserve

[Rosiestar]

Reserve! This girl is beautiful <3

[Underworld]

Username: Underworld
Name: Razor
Gender: Male
Personality: Aggressive, Confident, Territorial, Adventurous, Dependable, Fearless, Observant, Independent, Intelligent, Keen, Persistent, Reliable, Meticulous, Trusting

[get scared]

Username:

Hoshikuzu

Name:

Zhànshì, Zhan for short.

Name meaning:

Warrioir

gender:

Male

Story:


I’m no angel, I’m just me. I’m no goodie-two-shoes nor am I any sort of saint whatsoever--but when I see something going down, it’s not as if I’m just going to stand around and watch. Being a ‘member’, I know that people who obviously aren’t rolling in cash (or flaunting it, at least) are off limits. We may be thieves, but we’re not heartless. We only ‘take’ because we ourselves aren't so rich, so why would we stoop so low as to preying on the lesser?

Anyway, It was dark out, probably around 10pm. The shopping district’s store-signs themselves were enough to brighten up the area. Perhaps that was the fact that there were still several citizens out an about, both young and old. It was a little chillier than usual though, so they were all accordingly dressed in sweatshirts and sweaters.

I was just doing my usual scan of the area for any late-night scumbags. You know, the type to get drunk and then start hitting on young girls/guys. Those were the easiest to steal from, since you could pretend to ‘shove him/her away from the defenseless victim(s)’, or pretend to ‘take him/her back to the bar so (s)he could sober up a bit’. Again, easy as pie. Especially if you’re someone like me, granted that certain degree of attractiveness that makes you automatically assumed as someone innocent.

You’d be surprised, actually. Surprised at how many pickpockets are average looking, the type you bump into any day, but don’t even spare them a glance because their bland faces don’t even register in your brain. That’s my downfall, though. My face is the type that tends to stick in your brain for quite a bit, so it’s better for me at night anyway, since the darkness masks my features. But what can I say? What kind of son would I be if I didn’t even inherit any similar features from my famous parents.

Runaway son, anyway.

But that’s a story for another time. This isn’t the story of miserable home-life, this is the story of how I helped my unofficial foster parents. You see, as I was saying before; I may be a bad guy, but I’m not a bad guy. Still got a conscience and all that jazz. So as I searched the quiet streets in search for my next victim, I was unnerved to find that a hunter was in pursuit of it’s prey.

Said hunter was someone I had seen around before. He was an okay guy, but lacked manners. Every other word with him was a swear, but the poor soul didn’t even realize he talked that way. He’d been in this system all his life, so it was the norm for him. Lets just say we don't hang out in public much, if at all.

His prey on the other hand, was absolutely unfamiliar. It was an old pair, all twinkle-eyed and pink-cheeked with their grandchildren, supposedly. The pair seemed lost as they tried vainly to get a little attention. Their grandchildren simply played around lackadaisically in their innocent naivety.

The hunter moved in, mercilessly unleashing his good-guy act as he bullshitted to the old folks straight through his crooked teeth. The pair smiled at him with their wrinkled lips, thanking him profusely before turning and ushering the children in the direction ‘Hunter’ explained they go.

I watched silently from the shadows per usual, curious as to what ‘Hunter’ planned to do. Surely he wasn't planning to rob the couple, considering it was obvious based on their clothing that they weren’t on the green-grass-picket-fence side themselves. But he didn’t falter at all as he took to stalking his prey, long legs practically strutting as he made as little sound as his lanky body could handle.

They were growing smaller and smaller as the group began leaving my view, and usually that would be of no concern to me. Why should I care? It was their fault for going shopping so late anyway. But then again, maybe there was an actual reason for the old folks to head out so late.

Maybe they spent their entire day working hard for their children and grandchildren. Maybe their children themselves were in the hospital for some traumatic accident, so as they struggled with the medical bills they also tried to keep their grandchildren happy. Maybe they were slowly failing to have ends meet ends and just needed a little more money (which they would eventually make), but the robbery which was about to go down would no doubt cause them so lose everything.

Maybe I was overreacting. But for some reason, every single droplet of my sorry soul was willing me to go into predator mode myself and get the hell over there, so of course I listened. My gut had never wronged me yet, so I just shut up and went with it. Luckily for me, Makoatls were created with swift bodies and soft paw-pads, giving me both the element of speed and silence. I arrived in no time, slinking myself around every corner and alley as I silently stalked my prey.

“What? This can’t be right,” the old man rasped as he panted slightly, his old wegs beginning to wobble as anxiety paled his face. The poor man’s pale eyes scampered from one side of the ally to another in hopes of any clues, but all there was, was darkness.

“Grandpa, I’m cold,” the little girl sighed as she plopped down on the edge of the sidewalk, the darkness masking her full appearance from my view. The other child, a boy most likely younger than the girl, nodded his little head and plopped down too. The grandmother stayed quiet as she began to rub her soft, bony hands together. I could see all their breaths forming little clouds before their mouths, the hot air floating slowly but surely before vanishing along with their calmness.

“Maybe that y-young man made a mista-,” the grandmother began only to be cut off.

“Mistake? Oh no, not a mistake.” Hunter appeared from the shadows, something sharp glinting in the alleyways moonlight for a moment.

The old women screamed.

The grandchildren joined her in their little huddle behind the confused old man, sweat glistening on his spotted forehead. “Uwah-” He began only to flinch away as Hunter charged and pounced. Suddenly my world was spinning as my arms shot out, entire body stretching to it’s furthest as I scanned the large distance in the blink of an eye.

Hunter tripped, tumbled and fell from the contact of my shove, but that did little to the situation. Maybe he confidence deflated a bit at my cold, disappointed glare and the deep grow resonating from my throat, but for some reason he was oddly determined to finish what he started.

“Why don’t we let this one go,” I demanded more than suggested in a deep, silky voice. The type of voice you would imagine a male swan to have, a smooth baritone.

“Why don’t you let this one go. I need the cash,” Hunter brought the knife before him for us all to view. I heard the group behind me make strangled cries, but ignored them for now. I knew I could beat Hunter, of course I could! I really didn’t want to scar these children though...

“These people obviously don’t have much, not nearly enough to share with hoodlums like... Like us. Now why don’t you put down the knife, and we can rethink this. Surely those kids can scream loud enough that help will arrive, but I don’t need anymore enemies.” And it was true. I didn’t dislike Hunter, for this is what we did. It was simply our jobs. I knew that he didn’t feel the same though, as he raised his head and dared to growl back at me. I didn’t think twice before raising my head and all out snarling at the man, flashing my fangs and reminding him who exactly he was dealing with.

He bared his neck for a brief second in submission before barking out a cuss and taking a step back. Embarrassed and enraged his glared daggers at all of us. He was in a dangerous state, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of showing him my anger, and schooled my face. I simply stood, head held high like my true parents taught me, and turned my cheek.

Hunter roared again before taking his knife and fleeing, the old folks nearly toppling over each other in relief. We found the cops afterwards and the family demanded we turn ‘Hunter’ in, but none of us knew his true name so we just settled for a description. Don’t know what happened with that, but I definitely do know that I did the right thing. Oh no, not for the thanks from the family (turns out the childrens’ parents were fine, because they came to pick up the grandparents), but because I received cash for being a ‘hero’.

Now I’m not complaining, but I didn’t like the title ‘hero’ either. So when the press came to my unofficial foster parent’s house, asking if we’re putting the money to good use and all that (when obviously they only came for my side of the story), I told them exactly what i told you earlier. “Why don’t you like the title ‘hero’?” they asked me. So I simply replied;

“I’m no angel, I’m just me. I’m no goodie-two-shoes nor am I any sort of saint whatsoever--but when I see something going down, it’s not as if I’m just going to stand around and watch.”

[please delete .]

username | death clock ; death ; clock whichever you prefer.

makoatl name Ananta


[ah - nan - tah]



↳ A name with the meaning of "infinite, endless"

Within this form I have fashioned a theme, a tone, a setting.
In order to accommodate to such theme, it is requested you listen to this throughout reading and observing my form.

it is strongly requested you listen to the entire song, but not necessary.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mist rolled over the mountains in the early morning, clouds muffling the light from the sun, and an ambient silence hung over the scenery. Rich, dark green grass carpeted the hills and I felt a certain predisposition of forthcoming ominous tidings. The dark clouds ahead began to thicken and roll, blotting and overcasting my surroundings. Breaking into a run, I could sense a force of terrible evil looming, and there was no way in which I could face it. Not now, anyway. Bounding as quickly as my long legs would allow, I covered quite a bit of distance, but a clamor in the distance spurred me forth when air was short in my lungs.




A passionate spirit

uncompromised

boundless and open

A light in your eyes

Then immobilized.





The acrid, stinging stench of smoke began to cloud all, and my eyes stung and watered so violently I feared I would perhaps plunge from a sudden cliff from lack of sight. The terrain was growing rockier now, and my paw pads scraped raw and bloody on the jagged edges of limestone, leaving dark red stains in my wake. How my wanderings had brought me here I did not know, but alas I had found myself strayed and stranded on land so far from the ocean of my home. Harsh, explosive sounds rang out behind me, and I was startled as the stinging of stone bits hit my side. A deadly, small, metal projectile had sunk mercilessly into a boulder beside me. Horror reigned king at the thought that said projectile could have so easily sunk and destroyed into my own flesh as it had the stone. Ugly gasping sounds, harsh and strained came from me as I pushed my physical limits to their outermost edges. Cries and jeering, rough noises rang from behind me, and I nearly would have fallen to my death over a cliff had I not glanced ahead. Skidding to a stop, I scrabbled against the edge to gain my balance and haul myself back onto relative safety. Turning and gasping for air, my chest heaved and my lungs burned and screamed, and through the dark smoke I could see the glow of burning fire and dark, shadowed beings standing on their hind legs approaching. The smoke swirled around them, and soon they had breached it, standing before me, their eyes hard and impenetrable. Clutched in their strange hands were long, metal and wood crafted objects. I had no idea what was to come as the leader positioned and aimed the muzzle towards me.

An explosion.

A sickening thuck.

I plummeted over the edge of the ravine, blood soaking my fur...so harsh, the contrast of crimson on my white fur. Some foreign, obtrusive object lay lodged in my chest, so heavy and alien, burning and twisting and tearing at my flesh as though it were alive and moving of its own accord. Darkness transcended my vision and I could feel no more.

How long I spent swathed in darkness I cannot say, but I roamed many, many dream lands within my absence from the living world, places beyond any I could have ever imagined. I was solitary here, alone, traveling and running without exhaust. I was searching. Searching for something I did not know.

I awoke suddenly, a dull and thudding pain still residing in my chest. Blinking in the sunlight, I grunted softly and turned to rise to my feet. A sight lay before me that sent me reeling in surprise and fear. The great, massive head of an imperial Chinese Lung dragon loomed in front of me. His handsome whiskers flowed in the breeze, and his beard trailed on the soft, sweet smelling grass. His eyes unwaveringly watched me for moments, a silence and mutual peace between us both resided. "Am I...dead?". No better thing to ask came to mind, and I feared the worst, not realizing at the present moment that a new weight hung about my neck, my ears and fins. Blinking slowly and knowingly, the dragon responded in a voice that was not really a voice, a guttural, intimidating and indescribable sound. Words, however, I heard within my mind; You are not dead. Close, very close indeed, but not yet. You are not destined to die now, nor for a long time. I found you - you have been searching, I know, but now you have found what you sought all this time. Death was near taking you. A pause as he seemed to look off into the distance and lose focus. In order to save you, I removed a portion of my heart, and instilled it upon you. A demon of lead had lodged itself, poisoning your heart, but I was able to save you. Another pause and he chuffed, angered by the thought and mention of the bullet. We are now bonded, your pain is mine to feel, and my pain is yours to feel. However, like me, you will live for ages, and remain guardian over those of the water.

[.Missy.]

'serve ;o;

[Micki.]

Reserve. <3

[carmineflyer]

S O M E people
s a y they
know saddness.

N A M E:
I am Ai Wan, the last remaining member of the Xing Family of the ocean.

Name M E A N I N G:
My name means sadly sweet. Obviously it was given to me by my mother.