i said id make another one and so i did
god does this look out of place with chicken smoothie being all christmas
this one is chemical themed!
end date is 12/25/15
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username:
name:
gender:
shadows name:
personality:
art/story:
things to note
- pure white skin
- chemical leaking from eye..???(idk i think its weird as well)
- its hidden by the gas mask, but he wears a bowtie
- black nails
- left hand sports a ring tattoo (a really bad looking skull on my part) and the roman numeral XIII (13)
- right hand has those two fingered rings
extras and prettying up is welcomed as always
winner is SunlightSong!
SunlightSong wrote:xx
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A radioactive demon stands on the other side of the counter, a stream of strange glowing chemical dripping from its eye, a bright, if somewhat reserved smile on its face. It had let down its mask to make you feel more comfortable. Its left hand held a pen over a small pad, motionless, poised. It would be rude to refuse now.
“Would you like something to drink?” it asks once again.
Behind the counter stood thirteen gleaming brass tanks with labels in shorthand. The demon had previously explained what each meant. Seven of the names were totally unfamiliar to you and, upon consideration of the barista, possibly beyond human taste senses. Of the other six, there were five earth substances: Tea, Chocolate, Coffee, Milk and Water while the last, the thirteenth tank, the only tank without a readily usable spout, was simply XIII. The barista simply assured you that the particular substance has never touched a served drink.
The counter, however, was a comfortable wood one: simple, but well-kept. It seemed as though this demon was an impeccable host. Why do you see them as a demon anyway? Is it just because of the horns; the lime green hair; the dripping eye? Perhaps it was the mask that had been set down behind the counter.
“All right,” the demon said, as if breaking. It threw the small pad and pen behind it in a snap-like gesture. A shadow passed over both objects in mid-air, causing them to disappear without a trace. “You win, you got me.”
A few drops of the strange chemical leak landed on the counter.
“It’s this, isn’t it?” the barista asked, sliding a finger through a glowing green drop. It made a streak on the counter and a stain on their black nailed finger. They laughed, a somewhat bitter but strangely light laugh.
“No one trusts this stuff. I don’t trust this stuff,” the demon said, assuming a more relaxed stance. “I’ve been doing so many tests on it.”
The barista slid a bright red piece of cloth over the chemical, wiping it clean off the varnished wood and the pale white skin. It went into a pocket with a quick, snap-like movement, as before. The demon then pushes itself up to sit on the side of the counter perpendicular to yours.
“Why am I here,” you ask.
“Why are you...?” The demon suddenly bursts out laughing. “Shouldn’t you know that?”●xxxx ● xxxx●xxxx ● xxxx● xxxx●xxxx ●xxxx ●xxxx ● xxxx● xxxx● xxxx●xxxx ●xx
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link to original image by Arz
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A shadow passes over two objects in mid-air, taking them into its jaws. It then slinks off into the darkness, silent, its bone white head left unseen, its hound-like form left unappreciated. It seemed a shy thing, sliding off through what seemed to be a blank wall.
Beyond the wall, behind the tanks and shelves lies a makeshift laboratory. Glass bottles and flasks, strange equipment and manuals, running set-ups and finished papers stood with all manner of strange materials, of small rocks with webbed veins reaching across their surfaces, of substances that were both liquid and gas, of a strange glowing green chemical marked simply with XIII. The shadow passes over them in turn, a blank, appreciating eye socket dancing over the dangerously boiling material, seemingly willing it to calm, though this does not happen. A shadow passes over the various knobs, and the set-up quiets.
The shadow then settles down against the touch of cool metal, curling up on its own. It was calm, and is free to dream of days long past, of the emptiness it once felt, and of a doll called Alexander.
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link to original image by Drow69
Some dolls are created demons and find their humanity. Some dolls are created demons and embrace it. Other dolls do not believe there is such a thing as a demon, despite the clarity of the form.
Alexander was created a demon. He had a pair of sharp horns and a mop of black hair, pure black eyeballs and a prehensile tail with the signature point at the end. He had a name that ended in –el, but decided against taking it on and soon forgot all about it. His voice was clearly childish, perhaps tenor to alto with a nightmarish vengeance and his smoothness of movement can only be attributed to his demonic form. His base was androgynous at creation, as typical for demons, though he soon found a leaning toward male pronouns, regardless of where his romantic escapades were pointed. Third person observers might find his manner and preferences confusing when gender and its prejudices are involved, though he might sometimes be exploitative of this.
Beyond this, however, he was only mostly a little imp, dancing around people, trying to push their buttons. He believed he would stay at the shop forever, and didn’t mind it one bit. Other dolls came and went, were created, loved, and likely, broken. Such was how life worked, but not for him. It was not that his design was not appealing, it was in how he actually hid when buyers came. Some dolls thought that he was afraid of getting broken. It wasn’t that. Alexander cared little and actually had quite a few parts replaced over the years. What really was the problem was that his heart was a lock. He was looking for someone, and he believed that he would choose them when the time comes.
But then the flood came. He was washed out. However, Alexander was not one to simply be taken at the flood. No, he rode the flow, kept his head up until he saw what seemed to be light over in the horizon. He swam to it, and soon found himself in a dumping ground for toxic waste.
The doll was forever stained with the chemical, his joints seared but smoothed and lubricated by the fluid, his eye leaked but his experience allowed him to see so much clearer than ever before. His mop of black hair was no longer just black, but his tail remained unstained. He crawled out of the slop, and something followed him, or, perhaps, even helped push him out. Alexander pulled it out as well: a bone white canine skull on a shadow-like body. How the poor thing ended up so was not a very difficult to imagine.
The shadow shook the liquid off itself cutely, and politely asked if the doll were willing to form a contract, explaining that they’d been stuck there all alone for such a very long time. This concept confused the doll. He heard of legends of the dollhouse but had never really thought of the stories as true.
“I am not ready for a contract,” Alexander said.
This seemed to cause visible sadness in the shadow’s manner, but it steeled itself and bravely offered:
“At least allow me to show you the way home.”
The shadow’s voice was quite scratchy, but not offensively so. It declared itself a female with the name Kamon, which meant heart and mind. When asked if she knew where the Dollhouse was, she said, simply:
“I know the smell of Home.”
The rest is history: how their journey brought them to depend on each other, how Alexander awakened an inner curiosity for the world and a love for vanilla ice cream, how Kamon bent, nearly broke, and managed to carry the responsibility of having a Companion, how their knowledge of each other’s plight had made each independently resolve to work for the better, and, ultimately, the signing of the contract at the Dollhouse’s door.
Upon reaching the Dollhouse, each took on a new name: Alexander named himself Plasmatic Resonance while Kamon took on the name Crawling Shadow. They settled in the room which is now a moderately busy coffee shop, hearing stories from all over the multiverse: from Dolls and non-Dolls alike. Resonance worked to find a way of disposing of the chemicals properly, while Shadow generally cleaned up afterwards. Shadow whispered solutions to their customers’ problems, while Resonance translated them. They were a team, a two-part well-oiled machine.
-BEGINNING-xx
username: SunlightSong
name: Plasmatic Resonance (Alexander: to defend men)
gender: Cryptogender (he/his/him) occasionally Genderpunk
shadow's name: Crawling Shadow (Kamon: Thai for heart and mind; Japanese emblem)
personality: Alexander - Detective. Chemist. Barista. Infinite patience and quick calculations. Fast judgements and partial absentmindedness
Kamon - Shadow. Guardian. Companion. Quiet and alert. Prefers the backstage. Guarded emotions. Adorable.
Final notes: So I almost decided not to go for it, mostly because I realized that what I had planned was beyond my skill, but this week I realized that I had so many writing and art drafts that I really made especially for this doll, so I decided to post anyway even just as tribute to this amazing design. I finished the writing up best I can, but I was unable to fix the art up because of uploading problems. I know it's a buzzer beater at best in terms of tardiness, but I hope you enjoyed reading! You really inspired me, thanks a lot!
