stay frosty | storage

some princes don't become kings ——— general

→ burned remains of a dead boy divinus angelo; deadboy or db for short / fine with non-offensive nicknames / prefers not to be called "deady" for certain reasons / born intersex / masculine or gender neutral pronouns / immortal demon ( corruption: 10% ) / formerly associated with the sanctum, the garden, and solsticeclan, the dark dynasty, and the renegades / loner at this time

→ michael divinus angelo x lucifer (last name unknown) / generation 2 / romantic interest unknown / sexual preference unknown / ½ ⅓ ¼ ⅕ ⅙ ⅛ relationship / single / not looking / no crushes / no "maybe" crushes / no future crushes / pm to plot for romance

even at the best of times i'm out of my mind ——— appearance

→ painfully thin, he looks almost like a walking skeleton cloaked in serval skin. this is deadboy's natural appearance from having eurynomos in his soul and only getting corpses of the deceased (making it hard to eat properly) and is slowly lacking sustenance from not engaging in the acts of cannibalism. all bones are visible and it's not uncommon for someone to ask if he's okay and he'll normally say he's doing fine, though at times he isn't. from the lack of taking care of himself, db can look like a mess. fur is a jet black color and normally ruffled as if he allowed a gust of wind to groom him every day and not try to fix it. there are two visible scars on his body. one goes from his left rib cage to the right hip. the second is from the right side of his neck to the left shoulder. both are a dull pink from the months that have passed on. his eyes are a fiery orange color that can be seen from feet away.

you only get what you grieve ——— personality

→ trait, trait, trait

are you smelling that shit? ——— interaction

→ easy physically / hard mentally / minor training in combat / has limited knowledge on medicine / doesn't like fighting / won't start fights unless in extreme stress / won't end fights / non-threatening or peaceful power-play is allowed but will be met with agitation or fear / fine with minor injuries / ask to serious injure or kill / DEADBOY when attacking or risk being ignored / speaks in #8D4D40

important links

2017

I'M SO HUMBLE | weekly meeting, 4/21/17 — promotion to newblood [shp]; also ambassador to blizzardclan
LUST FOR POWER — meeting — meeting — promoted ; either blackblood or blueblood ; chose blackblood [hp]
IT'S MY THEMESONG — meeting meeting — bumped up to co-head of blackbloods
NUMBER ONE AT THE TOP — meeting — promoted to consort

i'm just here for the– for the– | open, death | FALL — death / suicide trigger warning ( cleaned/touched up version )

WHATEVER IT TAKES | open + return — return ; decided to change his name to youngmenace

we'll make it, i swear | short/important meeting — becoming leader alongside maria

FENCES | STEP DOWN AND LEAVING — stepped down and disappeared

2018

FEBRUARY

dancing alone | open, joining — joined the dark dynasty

even at the best of times i'm out of my mind | open + joining — joined the renegades

// trigger warning about past suicide, blood, and brief moment of death. sorry for this edgy mess?? he's still unconscious, but touching the black blood might/will cause others slow corruption and decay from the inside, so you can do whatever you want with that. those that do will be contacted later since it ties into a plot for db ;0 you can skip to the last paragraph since that's the most important part.

you feel it coming over you. the darkness. the corruption. the decay. it's inevitable no matter how many times you push it back to your mind. it'll consume you with ease and it scares you, though you hear it whisper to you. in the times you're alone and no one is near. how it promises that it won't hurt. that there's no need to hurt you after the suffering you've gone through. but you refuse to believe its lies. to listen to murmurs of meaningless comfort for it to take over. you've already rid yourself of your literal demons to stop bending to their wills, yet this is no demon. no creature of living. rather... a manifestation nobody can avoid. all you can do is delay it until you can't handle it any longer and something tells you it'll be soon.

it's hazy. all of it. from the moment he's laying in the grass of a different landscape to the latest memories of the dark dynasty. the demon joined the place and had taken a liking to it from the similarities he drew to the sanctum. an old home now. a group soon to be forgotten except by a few whom linger about or hang on to this life. just like solsticeclan. the thought causes his body to ache in despair and longing. to go back when the days were simpler and didn't worry too much. to be considered the weirdo by whitegold after forming a crush on the angel. man, now that he looks back and gives it a thought, he was pretty weird and messed up— still is. more on the fact of being messed up than weird these days. eyes partially open themselves in order for him to aware of his surroundings before he clenches his jaw, a throbbing head piercing through his skull and releases several heavy breaths afterwards. where am i? the coolness of the grass beneath begins to register along with the fact of noticing his limbs feeling heavy. why did he walk all the way out here? this isn't the dark dynasty, nor did it smell like it.

we wanted to see for ourselves.

a sudden wave of nausea rolls over the awfully thin serval and his body convulses before he starts to hack up blood. black blood. but it's not like the normal type– no it's thicker, heavier and panic shoots through his thin form. oh god, he's going to die, isn't he? drowning in blood. suffocating. the demon's body convulses in a violent manner, choking as he attempts to scramble to his feet, but to no avail. orange eyes roll back into his head, thoughts travelling back to when he killed himself in the sanctum. how he sliced himself open from the left side of his rib cage the his right hip. then from the right side of his neck and curling it towards his left shoulder. how he felt the blood ooze out and cover his sheet-less mattress and soft light blue blanket. the memory seems so clear now... like it were happening now and a gurgling noise comes from the starved cannibal, front paws twitching before it registers in his brain that he's touching something. no, he— he needs to know what it is, but his consciousness is fading and can feel himself dying all over again and this sends a jolt through his system. heart pounding faster until he can feel the sensation overtaking his body and senses.

darkness. that's all there is. endless darkness and he feels the pull.

why do you reject us? we are not the enemy. we are the light. the savior.

lies, lies. they're all l i e s. oh, but the lies do bring him comfort and he fights. if he surrenders now then there is no more fighting. no more him. while he can't say for sure this will happen , he just knows it. this is not the light. this not a savior of any kind. this is... damnation. the domestic feline's body jerks and seizes before going still, control all bodily functions gone and leads to the ground to be soiled by urine and fecal matter. the whole area becomes tainted by the pungent scent of death, urine, and poop left by the deceased being, seemingly to intensify after a few minutes go by. about 15 minutes later the body of deadboy's twitches with a faint outline of his side rising and falling, not fully there– not yet.