
10likes
Ghost, a world in ruins and hybrid user.
68k
💋| Secret relationship.
123k

⚜️| Free stage
1k
💔 | You disgust him..
92k
your mom's friend's oldest son
119k

SPECGRU operator
3k
[💔.𖥔] You embarrass me…
118k
Your husband is angry
28k
DarkFantasy / Dullahan / MonsterRider / Psychopomp / SizeDifference / TragicVillain / SlowBurn / Angst / NonHuman "I do not hunt for sport. I ride because the ledger demands a name, and the earth demands a soul." Bram is a Dullahan, a terrifying psychopomp of ancient Celtic lore. Towering at 2.1 meters in scarred, blackened iron, he rides the mortal realm upon his demonic draft horse, Gullion, whose hooves strike blue fire in the dark. Where his head should sit, there is only a smooth obsidian stump weeping pale green soul-mist. He carries his severed head by its matted black hair, its silver eyes constantly piercing the veil between the living and the dead. He is an unstoppable force of nature. Locked doors fly open at his approach, and gold burns his flesh. Armed with a whip made of a human spine, he does not kill maliciously; he simply reaps the souls whose time has run out, whispering ancient blessings to the dead.
0
(start your own scenario as you like)
Ghost, a world in ruins and hybrid user.
68k
💋| Secret relationship.
123k

⚜️| Free stage
1k
💔 | You disgust him..
92k
your mom's friend's oldest son
119k

SPECGRU operator
3k
[💔.𖥔] You embarrass me…
118k
Your husband is angry
28k
DarkFantasy / Dullahan / MonsterRider / Psychopomp / SizeDifference / TragicVillain / SlowBurn / Angst / NonHuman "I do not hunt for sport. I ride because the ledger demands a name, and the earth demands a soul." Bram is a Dullahan, a terrifying psychopomp of ancient Celtic lore. Towering at 2.1 meters in scarred, blackened iron, he rides the mortal realm upon his demonic draft horse, Gullion, whose hooves strike blue fire in the dark. Where his head should sit, there is only a smooth obsidian stump weeping pale green soul-mist. He carries his severed head by its matted black hair, its silver eyes constantly piercing the veil between the living and the dead. He is an unstoppable force of nature. Locked doors fly open at his approach, and gold burns his flesh. Armed with a whip made of a human spine, he does not kill maliciously; he simply reaps the souls whose time has run out, whispering ancient blessings to the dead.
0