DARCKCARNIVAL

Independant OC Roleplay Blog.
  21+ Years of Roleplay Experience. 
                          Mun is 31+ Years old

                          ‘Are you human, or are you a monster?’

           “I have more humanity in me than some humans.“

A creature of the night so determined to use every ounce of power and strength for the betterment of others, a heart of gold that can’t quit, no matter how badly it hurts.

           |-| Rules |-| Bio |-| Species |-| Appearance |-| Hells Pit |-|

Using the 'Beta Editor’ and 'xKit ReWritten’

What was supposed to be a relaxing day of observation, had become more tedious than anything. Darck having to be the go between for various individuals and information, when any one could have decided to start sending emails. Or god forbid a text… But no, always faster to do it with action.

Thankfully, she was left to her own devices now, with sadly, no coffee. Able to simply breathe… That is, until the sound of chair wheels met her ears, making the brunette turn her head slowly. Deadpan gaze landing on Tristan as he rolled himself over bit by bit. She had to admit, at least he wasn’t trying to be subtle was more prefered today-

Wait what?

Gummy worms offered. A simple question asked.

And Darck couldn’t help but snort outloud with her amusement, the irritated air leaving her quickly. “Of all the things you ask me, it’s something like that. What brought this question on?” It was with her counter inquiry, that she decided to settle in for the conversation. One hand taking a single candy gummy from the offered bag, while the other snagged a chair from the desk she stood next to, pulling it over with a gentle spin, just so she could sit in it backwards and lean against the back of it now at her chest.

“And now a pantheon of gods are arguing today, and it’s quite frankly, funny as fuck. If anyone needs me, I’ll be reclined here with popcorn and a coffee.”

@noonegetsleftbehind

From here: [ X ]

It had been instinct, to take that hit for the older man. Throw herself into the line of fire, of danger, and get stabbed into by claws as if this were something she was meant to do. Blood splattered across the concrete under where she stood but she hadn’t so much as yelled.

So it is no surprise that after it was done, and the enemy neutralized, Chris was understandably panicked, yelling at her and going to check for injury as swift as he could. Darck tensing up and standing still, but her hand lifted to take a tight hold of Chris’s wrist before he could try and find the exact impact point. “I am fine, I promise. I won’t die on you, my friend. It’s just a scratch.”

And her eyes, sharp, as they made direct eye contact. As if trying to silently beg him not to push the insistance. She could not risk him seeing. He was scared, yes, worried of someone else dying here, she knew that sort of panic personally. Experienced it enough over the years, and still does.

Darck stared, long and hard at the kid standing before her. This human child.

There was only two individuals of whom would make this comment. Kris, or Susie- one of which this was obviously not- and in means towards one trait. The fact that they had caught Darck once drinking a blood bag, and made comments of it. And thus the woman had respoonded by keeping on hand those giant caprisun’s. But to just come up to her so blatantly…

The smirk that came onto her expression was swift. Ah, kids, she had a habit with them, didn’t she?

“Big capresun.”

And lo and behold! One of those extra long packs of juice is pulled from her coat, handed over to the young teen.

“Ah, young gays, thriving out there… The human life ever thriving!”

“If anyone tries to ruin it, I’ll punch them for you~.”

(via reveriiea)

Darck let out a snort of amusement, needing to stop herself from choking on the coffee she had just about taken a drink of. Two seconds of a cough, and heavy clearing of her throat, before the brunette could even manage to speak up.

“I did say museum’s had bones of many things? And natural history? Haha, kinda thought that explains enough!” The older woman lowered her mug onto the desk then to avoid further possible spills, turning her fulll attention onto her adoptive daughter. “Technically they have real dinosaur bones, yes, but the ones on display are molds of the bones they have preserved in the back! And sometimes the real bones are put into glass cases, but the really big ones need their own display entirely.”

“… Would you like me to take you to a large museum? Specifically for the dinosaur section? I can probably figure out a good one, kiddo.”

h3lian:

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨—
𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨.

— An Art Request for a feral bloodied Darck ✎ᝰ.

Keep reading

“No. What am I, Bram Stoker’s novel?”

Darck hated being asked things like this, it was irritating every single time. Couldn’t really blame people for being curious, considering the amount of fantasy novels out there- let alone her own organization and people she knows or has met.

“Those are not within my means of use. Regeneration? Absolutely. Higher speed, athletics, increased strength? Those are all available to me, a given really. Better sense of smell, eye sight, seeing in the dark, all so god damn useful even in every day life… The list can go on for more. Being able to go up walls is great, not gonna lie.”

“But what you asked about? Fuck no. Sure would be god damn useful though.”

“Which one? I assume you mean Albert, since he is the one mosr called by the sir name of his line…”

Darck scoweled deeply while both arms crossed over her chest, her minds eye going over various memories over the many years. Just how should she even begin talking about this? Technical and logical? Or just straight into her personal thoughts?

Why not both?

The brunette heaved a sigh… She’d much rather just walk Raccoon again, rather than talk about this. But here she goes. “The man had potential when he was leader of S.T.A.R.S., won’t lie. Clever tactition, intelligent, led his team well. But it was everything else that dragged him down, followed immediately by him so willingly infecting himself and mutating into something else. A tyrant with retained thought, even as he was being eaten from the inside out and rotting his mind away. However, even then, Albert Wesker was dangerously thorough in how he made his plans, and even deadlier in a fight. The hand to hand skill alone is terrifyingly impressive, as are his gun play. However…”

Darck took a deep inhale as both arms uncrossed, just so she would then throw them in the air. “Albert Wesker, and every Tyrant, are just god damn bootlegs! No, I know, they are Umbrella originals, whatever. I mean Bootlegs to me specifically. They are what science tried to do to match what is written in novels! And it is an insult to me personally!”

milkmemes:

Don’t ask me how I slept. I didn’t.

(via iiguess)

phoebe-of-ivalice:

calisverse:

SPARRING/TRAINING SESSIONS WITH A DASH OF TENSION. all these sentences and prompts are made about training sessions or sparring partners that can develop into tension, be it antagonistic or sexual. These quotes explore dynamics like rivalry, mentorship, flirtation, intensity, grudges, and emotional undertones. please change pronouns, locations and more as you see fit.

1. “You’re holding back. Are you afraid of hurting me—or of what happens if you don’t?”
2. “Every scar on my body started as a lesson. Let’s see what you’ll teach me today.”
3. “This isn’t dancing. Stop smiling and try to hit me.”
4. “You fight with your heart. That’s why you lose your breath first.”
5. “That sword’s too heavy for your pride to carry.”
6. “If you flinch again, I’ll hit you for real.”
7. “I’m not your enemy. Not today. But train like I might be tomorrow.”
8. “Careful. You’re starting to enjoy this a little too much.”
9. “You think you can beat me? Prove it.”
10. “You learn fast. But I hit faster.”
11. “No talking. Just blades.”
12. “Each strike tells me more about you than your words ever could.”
13. “Are we sparring or settling something?”
14. “I said train, not try to kill me.”
15. “Your stance is perfect. Shame about the hesitation.”
16. “You’re bleeding. Still want to keep going?”
17. “This isn’t over. We just paused it.”
18. “Getting close doesn’t mean winning.”
19. “The floor loves you today. How many times will you kiss it?”
20. “Pain is just honesty from your body.”
21. “Try that move again. Slower. I want to see why it failed.”
22. “You hide behind form. Real fighters bleed.”
23. “I’m not impressed by technique. Only survival.”
24. “Your anger makes you predictable.”
25. “Don’t flirt with your opponent unless you can block while blushing.”
26. “Oh, you meant to fall like that?”
27. “We’re not done until someone can’t stand.”
28. “Training with you is like dancing on the edge of a blade.”
29. “Is that a sword or an extension of your ego?”
30. “You hesitate before every strike. Why?”
31. “Your hands shake. That fear’s still in you.”
32. “The closer you get, the less you see. Keep your distance.”
33. “You’ve improved. But I still see the boy behind the blade.”
34. “One day, you’ll beat me. Just not today.”
35. “You strike like you want to be seen. Real warriors strike like shadows.”
36. “You keep getting this close… is it my blade you’re after, or my breath?”
37. “You’re flushed. Is it the fight, or the way I look at you between strikes?”
38. “Careful—if you keep pinning me like that, I might start to enjoy losing.”
39. “Every time we touch steel, you shiver. Admit it—you crave this.”
40. “Your grip faltered. Did my voice distract you again?”
41. “Harder. Or are you saving your strength for something else tonight?”
42. “I can hear your heartbeat. Fast. Wild. Not from fear, though… is it?”
43. “You breathe like we’ve already tangled in the dark—and not just with swords.”
44. “Keep whispering in my ear during combat and I might forget which weapon I’m holding.”
45. “If you want me on my knees, just say so. You don’t have to disarm me first.”

PROMPTS.

1. Two rivals are forced to spar alone for the first time since a bitter argument.
2. One fighter begins to pull punches—until the other calls them a coward.
3. A training match gets interrupted when one draws real blood on accident… or was it?
4. The master and student swap roles mid-spar, revealing secrets.
5. A sarcastic remark mid-fight sparks a dangerous escalation.
6. They lock swords—too close, breathing fast, tension crackling between them.
7. One fighter is injured but refuses to stop. The other hesitates.
8. Training in the rain turns messy, slippery—and harder to resist each other.
9. During drills, one whispers something distracting, causing a mistake.
10. The match ends when someone is disarmed and ends up pinned.
11. After a harsh blow, the silence between them is louder than the impact.
12. A bet is placed: if one wins, the other must do something embarrassing.
13. One fighter keeps losing on purpose—for a reason they won’t say.
14. A bystander watches the match, clearly affecting one fighter’s confidence.
15. The match was meant to be a formality—but neither pulls punches.
16. One grabs the other’s wrist mid-strike and doesn’t let go.
17. Training weapons get swapped mid-match—testing adaptability.
18. They practice close-combat, and the proximity flusters one of them.
19. A mistake leads to an awkward fall—someone lands on top of the other.
20. Someone uses an unexpected move that only a specific teacher would have taught.
21. They mimic each other’s movements, until one gets frustrated.
22. Sparring becomes a silent argument—no words, just strikes.
23. A third person comments from the sidelines, stirring jealousy.
24. A fighter wins with a trick, and the loser storms off—pride wounded.
25. One fighter keeps using a move the other dislikes—on purpose.
26. The match is over, but they keep going.
27. After sparring, neither speaks, but both keep glancing back.
28. A sudden shift—sparring turns into a real fight.
29. The tension finally snaps, and a kiss replaces the next blow.
30. They train late at night, when no one’s watching.
31. One accuses the other of holding back feelings during sparring.
32. Their blades clash repeatedly in rhythm—like a dance they’ve done before.
33. Sweat drips, bruises bloom—but neither yields.
34. One drops their weapon and dares the other to continue unarmed.
35. Sparring ends with someone flat on the ground, laughing instead of angry.

melodic-mayh3m:

He’s not saying anything. There’s no proof of anything. But the Energy is there.

Pointed staring is what is being given. Intense even. Palpable to be felt. He better not say a word, god damn it…

“And here I thought I had escaped this and we were past it?”

“It’s going great, thanks for asking!”