#epic vampire au

[caramellcandy]

never enough pollites!

inspired by this image

[erabu-san]

Happy Halloween !

Grand-mother was kidnapped by a silver were-wolf ! For the sake of saving her, Red Riding Hood will become a monster hunter with the help of a mysterious fungus witch... will they be able to find Grand-Mother in time ?

[dreamsy990]

TELEMACHUS AND ANTINOUS. FINALLY

[rainbowpiss34]

angst inspired by the first madagascar movie

[somepsychopomp]

Alright monster fuckers, come get ur food

This is a rough draft of the first part of my Nosferatu AU, it's sort of like a prequel for what's to come. (Short summary: this is an AU where Poseidon is an undead eldritch being that's been pursuing Odysseus all his life, haunting him with nightmares and whatnot)

Mainly I would really appreciate some feedback about how fucked up crazy nasty ugly to make Poseidon. Like if he's an otherworldly being risen from the depths, should he be super ugly like Orlok or should I betray the original source material by making him sexy?

I'm mostly conflicted because this is an AU where he's still kind of the god of the seas, but is more of a Cthulhu-esque entity that was slumbering at the bottom of the ocean before being awoken by Odysseus' prayers.

The bedroom was dark and silent, save for the unsteady breathing of a nervous child. With trembling hands, he stood before his open window and struck two stones together until enough sparks flew to light the wick of his candle. 

The wind coming off the sea at this hour was frigid and biting, raising pebbles across the boy’s skin as he watched the candle’s flame rise high before setting and giving off a small circle of orange light. 

He wasn’t supposed to be awake at this hour. If anyone caught him, surely his mother and father would reprimand him in the morning. 

Odysseus knelt on a woven wool mat before the lit candle and raised his palms to the moon in supplication. Keeping his head bowed, he closed his eyes and prayed to the gods. 

“Please,” he whispered, his voice shaking from the cold of winter’s night. “Please, hear my prayers. My father grows old, my sister is too young. Please, send me a companion, a guardian. Someone to keep me warm at night and to play with during the day…a friend.”

The boy continued his prayers to the gods, ignoring his knees growing cold and stiff and his fingertips numb. Even so, he continued to pray. 

“Send me someone to fill my days and nights,” he asked the gods, unsure of how much time had passed since he began his prayers. 

Odysseus sniffled in the dark and the cold. Beyond his desire for companionship, he was assailed by shame. Was the love of his mother and father not enough for him? 

What of Ctimene and the way his younger sister loved to follow on his heels? 

His father’s hunting dogs, his old nursemaid? 

Odysseus did not understand why the company he had was not enough for him. He only wanted someone who knew him deeply, someone who knew him as if they were one. 

Without warning, a harsh gust of wind swept through his room. Odysseus gasped. Through his sealed eyelids, he found himself plunged into an oppressive darkness and knew his candle had gone out. 

Then… a new sound. It was similar to the wind’s groan, but not quite. 

This was deeper, raspier, more like a draft flowing through an underground cavern. It reminded him of the sound of stone grinding against stone. 

Odysseus opened his eyes and raised his head. 

A dark figure obscured the moon and stars, engulfing the boy in its shadow. 

Odysseus fell backward, a scream tearing from his throat.

The figure uttered only one word. 

“Hush.”

And Odysseus fell silent. He did not climb to his feet so much as an invisible force lifted him from the floor. 

The thing in the window, whether it was man or beast, said nothing more as it turned away and vanished. Odysseus swayed on his feet, his mind lost to a dense fog. 

Slowly, his body began to move on its own. 

He found himself wandering through the halls of his parents’ home, seeing the world through half-lidded eyes as he undid the servant’s door leading to the courtyard. He stepped outside, barefoot and without a cloak. 

Odysseus thought he was dreaming as his feet carried him down the beaten path to the beach, where the ocean shone like obsidian. Dark clouds began to fill the sky, obscuring the moon and blinding Odysseus to the darkness. Even so, he continued walking. 

The sound of the lapping waves grew deafening as Odysseus stood at the very edge of the icy waters. The figure was waiting for him. It was impossible to determine if the being was submerged in the water or standing over it. They were large, so much bigger than Odysseus was. 

A voice said to him, “Do you swear to be mine ever-eternally?”

Odysseus’ lips parted, though he could not say if it was of his own volition. 

“I do.”

All the wind died at once as a monstrous wave swallowed the figure. It surged forward, looking to Odysseus’ young eyes as if it were large enough to take all of Ithaca with it. He did not even think to flee. 

The water fell upon him with such force that all the air was pressed out of his lungs. The relentless surf tumbled him, dragging his body across the coarse sand and pulling him into the ocean. 

Odysseus kicked and flailed, his body attempting to swim for the surface, but the current was too powerful. He felt no ground beneath his feet, was he already swept out far enough to drown?

Open your eyes.

A voice spoke within his mind as if it were his own, compelling him to do as it commanded. 

Odysseus found himself floating in the black water, his face inches from a set of glowing eyes. Unlike any creature he’d ever seen before, these eyes did not blink as they gazed upon him. They weighed Odysseus down with their piercing gaze, the pupils slitted like a snake’s. 

As Odysseus’ body began to relax, as he felt compelled to take a breath and allow the water into his lungs, he had only one thought. 

That the eyes upon him were such a beautiful shade of bright blue. 

Then two arms grabbed him around the torso and hauled him to the surface. A hand patted his back, forcing him to cough up the saltwater that’d gotten in his mouth. 

“Oh, my poor boy! My Odysseus!” 

It was his father. Laertes clutched Odysseus to his chest, floating on his back as he used his other arm and his legs to swim them back to shore. Odysseus clung to his father, fear flooding his heart as he shivered in the terrible cold. 

He had very nearly drowned. 

Laertes pulled him out of the water and hauled Odysseus high up the shore before stopping to check on him. A few guards were waiting for them, bearing torches to light the darkness. They huddled around Odysseus, one of them shedding his cloak to wrap it around the boy’s shoulders. Laertes took his son’s hands and rubbed them between his own, blowing hot breath onto them to get Odysseus’ fingers to stop trembling. 

One man lowered his torch and Laertes instructed Odysseus to hold his hands near the fire. The king moved onto his son’s feet, rubbing and squeezing them to encourage circulation. 

He said, “My son, what happened to you? Why in the world would you go wandering out in the dark like this?”

Laertes found cuts on the bottom of his child’s feet. He couldn’t tell if they were from the rough stone path or the beach. 

Odysseus tried to answer his father, he really did. But his lower lip wouldn’t stop trembling. He sucked in a breath, then another, and began to cry. 

“I’m sorry, Papa. I’m sorry…”

Laertes decided enough was enough. It was too cold for any of them to be outside at this hour, especially his soaking wet son. The king took Odysseus into his arms, and though he was also dripping sea water, Laertes hardly felt even a chill in the air as he carried his son home. 

Odysseus buried his face in his father’s shoulder. He was cold and embarrassed to be crying when he thought of himself as a big boy by now. 

He just had his seventh birthday. 

Open your eyes. 

The voice compelled Odysseus to look up. Far away, a strange and tall shape floated in the water, a black shadow that slowly sank below the surface. Odysseus squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t open them again until he was back inside, where his mother’s arms awaited him.

[hiko-the-teacup]

can you tell which are my favourite colours......?

[pigeonstab]

!!!!French question!!!!

Can you use juste in the same kind of ways as in english or is it different? Like, instead of saying "je n'ai que sept chats" could you say "j'ai juste sept chats" or does that not really make sense?

Also!! Is college au Cross still afraid of cows? I don't assume there would be any around a college campus so I don't think it would come up unless they went somewhere else during break or something really weird happened lol

AND!!!!! If Epic found out about the whole blood oath thing (assuming he and Cross are back in contact) do you think he would make Killer do something too? Like maybe not signing something in blood because ew gross but some kinda goofy ritual to be worthy of his bruh and so they're even?

FINALLY!!!!!! Good morning c: Je vais au travail dans une heure (méchant) je t'aime et à plus tard!!

Hullo Charlie!!

To answer you... Yes and no? Technically it works but it just doesn't sound very natural? The combination of two J words with the end of juste in s following right into the beginning of 'sept' makes it kind of a tongue twister lol like I'm slurring my words tryna get this out X'D but that might just be a me thing.

'Juste' can work like 'just' but it's maybe not the word francophones will run to? It totally works sometimes like in "it's just that-" -> "c'est juste que" but I do think a ne que negative tends to be more common. 'Just' isn't as used or popular in French I'm afraid (this feels very subjective so take that with a grain of salt, I think stuff like that is something you learn by hearing the language in action, how often people use it and where, all of that)

College AU!! Cross is afraid of everything. Yes he is still deathly afraid of cows, not in a phobia way? Just in a 'there is a huge animal and it is looking at me and moving towards me and I don't like it' way. He's like that with most animals. Once Killer maybe gets new cats he's panicking as soon as one gets onto his lap like 'Killer- Killer your cat is on me- Killer can you get it off-- stop laughing and help me!!" He's all tense and he doesn't wanna touch it so he can't get it off himself X'D

I do think College au Epic is really protective of Cross, almost to make up for the time in Cross's life that he couldn't be? He wouldn't go to Killer though, probably straight to Nightmare, because y'know he's the reason for the blood oath and stuff. I think he'd give him a very piercing shovel talk and then follow it up with a stupid joke. Nightmare may be old but he's not one to take a threat lightly even from a normie (I don't remember if I made Epic a vampire or nah, I think he was a normie, I'll go look and edit it if needed)

He doesn't think someone that seems weaker isn't capable of causing him real harm and he takes extra measures to make sure not to get on Epic's bad side. Cross gets ice cream out of it. (And an eternal vow of protection from an almost two millennia old vampire, but that's not that important) there are enough people he cares about that don't want harm on Cross. So Nightmare takes him into the fold.

Good luck at work I love you too byeeee

[h-didanart]

Hello, I like Epic

Do you know who else likes Epic?

These guys (Quiet Throes Bloodmoon, yes they are the human variant here, I just felt like drawing ‘em like that)

Enjoy the doodles :3

And now, let me show you their favorite songs

That’s Harvest, they like Circe Saga

And that’s Bloody, they like Scylla

:3

[ser-rexasaur]

it's kross day :DD

ive collected some drawings from august this year up till today!

i love these sillies

killer - rahafwabas

cross - jakei

this is totally not a repost cause i accidentally pressed post the first time

[yourwonderful]

Uh hi salutations!!! Here are some of the fandoms and shows im interested in!!

Audio role play channels I watch:

Goodboyaudios

Escapedaudios

Yuurivoice

ObsidianLantern

Yuzuya

Shining Armor asmr

Shows I love:

My babysitters a vampire

Total drama

Hazbin hotel

Helluva boss

The amazing digital circus

Other things I'm into so far

Percy jackson

Greek mythogly

Mr plant!

Epic (circe saga is best saga)

Infection Au's

Saw

(If you want to talk about any of these with me I will be more then happy to!)

[caramellcandy]

:3

[pisceanskies]

odysseus with those red eyes is still kinda goofy to me but i understand the symbolism so it’s fine i can live with it

[dreamsy990]

Penelope: Are we dating?

Odysseus: do you wanna date?

Penelope: YES GOD- how is this a question? Of course I want to date you, you dumb adorable fucking dog

This is about your au

alternative proposal: penelope thought they were dating for like. a month. perhaps two

[unclegirl]

The Night Amelia Turned

DARK UNIVERSE/DARKMOOR FIC WOO WOOOO !!!

Description: Amelia and Natani Crane grew up in Darkmoor. Their parents moved here, looking for a quiet life. Little did they know monsters roamed the little village. They always told the girls what do in case they came across a monster. But all the warnings in the world can't prepare someone to face against a bloodthirsty vampire.

Story under the line!

Supposedly the monsters were contained by the Baroness in her manor perched above the village. Supposedly the Hounds drove the creatures out of Darkmoor. Supposedly the night should be safe to walk home.

But that was all supposed. The vampire with bloody teeth standing in Amelia’s path was very real.

Her parents had taught her what to do if she’d ever run into a monster, but that was all gone from her memory now. All she could think of doing was keeping her sister safe.

Nat was frozen beside her as well, unable to take her eyes off the vampire as he grinned cruelly at the two girls. Amelia felt Nat’s body heave in panic as she put an arm in front of the younger girl. Like her arm would protect Nat from being slaughtered.

They could turn around and pray they’d get to the Burning Blade in one piece. The Hounds could deal with this monster like nobody’s business, but it was stupid to think they could beat a vampire through the Dark Forest. The Lion’s Head was much closer. Amelia was sure if they made a dash for it, they’d make it.

The vampire took a step closer. “Ladies, you have nothing to fear. It’ll be over far before you ever feel any pain,” he remarked, as if his awful comment brought any kind of comfort to the sisters.

“Nat,” Amelia whispered quickly, eyes glued on the vampire. “I’m gonna take your hand and we’re gonna make a run for it. Don’t you dare let go.”

Nat didn’t say anything, too scared to speak probably, but she nodded. She heard Amelia, her hand now open for Amelia to grab.

Which she did. “Go!” and they were dashing across the cobblestone.

Amelia heard a curse and a snarl, and she tightened her grip on Nat’s hand. There was another set of footsteps behind them: the vampire giving chase, for sure. Nat kept up, her hand in a death grip around Amelia’s. The sisters ran, just feet from the light of Lion’s Head illuminating the stone beneath their pounding feet. Three feet. Two. One-

The footsteps disappeared as there was a whoosh and the awful sound of bats screeching. Leathery wings and pinprick fangs suddenly blocked Amelia’s view of the Lion’s Head, the screeching now sounding like a thousand tiny battle cries puncturing her eardrums. A little claw slashed just below Amelia’s eye and she squeezed her eyes shut, using her free hand to try and push the bats out of her way. She heard Nat cry out behind her and suddenly she lost her grasp on- “Natani!”

She opened her eyes just in time to see a flash of teeth as strong arms forced her to the ground.

Amelia couldn’t fight back as the vampire drilled his fangs into her neck, as he held her down while he drank the warm blood draining down her neck. She coughed, a splash of blood spurting from her mouth.

“This could’ve been so much easier, my dears,” the vampire hissed, faking a tone of pity even though she could feel him smiling as he lapped at the wound. “I could’ve had my meal and you wouldn’t have had to suffer like this. But you had to go and ru-“

He stopped mid-sentence, and Amelia heard a choking sound come from him. He was jerked away from her neck and she turned her pounding head to see Nat had jumped onto his back and had an arm around his throat.

She must’ve seen Amelia move, because she screamed out- “Ami! The crucif-!” before being grabbed by the vampire and thrown over his head and onto the cobble street in front of him.

Suddenly Amelia remembered what her parents had taught her.

With shaky hands, Amelia searched for the cross necklace beneath her shirt. Her fingers made contact with the silver symbol resting on her chest and she hissed in pain. Sure, it had a sharp point, meant to be a tool for self defense, but that’s not what hurt her. It was the whole cross. It felt so cold, painfully cold. She released the cross, feeling a little relief. She laid there, gasping for a moment as she felt a wave of pain shudder through her.

The vampire had Nat’s forehead gripped in his head and he kept hitting the back of her head against the stones. “You rat!”

Nat yelled in pain, trying to grab at his hands. Amelia knew Nat was capable on her own, but against a bloodthirsty vampire…god above, she looked so helpless.

Amelia didn’t care what her parents had taught her. She’d already failed to handle this beast properly and she was going to die tonight. But if nothing else, she had to make sure Nat was safe.

Nat’s head started to bleed. The vampire’s eyes glittered with morbid anticipation. A surge of adrenaline hit Amelia.

She was up in a moment, pulling the chain off her neck with a swift movement. She was silent as she stabbed the sharp silver cross through the vampire’s eye. He screamed, stumbling back as thick black liquid spurted from the wound. She couldn’t let him go with just a gouged eye. So she stabbed him again. And again. In and out, the sludge spraying with each thrust. Over and over.

The screams and snarls faded into the night, and eventually just the sound of wind rustling the trees could be heard. Amelia stood over the vampire’s motionless body, feeling everything zone in and out. It was like her brain couldn’t decide whether or not it believed this was real.

“Amelia?” Nat groaned out, and she turned to see her sister clutching her head. Nat was alive and the threat was gone. This was real. The alternative was just too evil to believe.

She ran over, putting a hand against the gash in Nat’s crown. “C’mon, home is just around the corner.”

Nat leaned into her, and Amelia found it wasn’t difficult to stay upright herself. They headed down the road, home not too far now. Soon, they’d wrap up their wounds and crash into bed and forget this all happened by morning.

With one hand, she held Nat close, keeping pressure on the wound. The other felt like it was on fire. She looked down at the cross in her hand, seeing the stars and the sliver of moon reflected in the silver blade.

But not herself.

[somepsychopomp]

sorry if it's a bit too much, but can we get a sneak peak to the nosferatu au?

It's not too much but I don't think I could give another peak after this because i literally don't have any more writing drafted yet, I'm still working on my outline lol

For reference, I started my nosferatu AU with this post, and everything below the cut takes place immediately after!

And for anyone who wants context to this AU: This is a very loose adaptation of Eggers' Nosferatu. Basically, the gods are much more monstrous creatures & more eldritch coded than canon, and they do consume humans as prey. Poseidon was a slumbering Cthulhu-esque being before being awoken by Ody's prayers as a child.

Word count: Approx. 1.5k

+++

For the next three years, Odysseus’ sleep was plagued by nightmares and oddities. 

Some nights, his body pulled itself out of bed and wandered the halls, attempting to find any door or window that would lead to the sea. On such occasions, a guard or servant would find the young prince swaying where he stood, responding to no voice or touch. Sometimes, some poor soul would have to run all the way down to the water, regardless of the night’s chill or the falling rain, to keep Odysseus from being taken by the tide. The best the house could do was return him to his room, ensuring the window shutters were latched and the door was locked. 

But it happened often enough that Laertes and Anticlea soon grew paranoid and sleepless themselves, afraid that one day, they might wake up to find their son missing forever. The king commanded a metalsmith to create a long chain and a shackle suitable for a child, with which he used to keep Odysseus from wandering too far from his bed. The shackle was at least heavily padded by a thick leather hide to make it as comfortable as possible, and it did its job in keeping the boy confined to his room. 

Other nights, Odysseus screamed as if he were being assailed by the Erinyes themselves. Guards would flood the room, or sometimes his parents, only to find a horrific sight before them: the crown prince contorted into painful shapes, his limbs splayed as he snapped his jaws and gasped for air, his eyes rolled back in his skull. Odysseus in this state would often throw himself from the bed and slam his limbs or head against the floor if no one stopped him in time. 

He would wail in his sleep as well, crying out and begging for whatever was attacking him, whether it be a spectre or something else, to stop. While the guards and Laertes used force to pin the prince down, Odysseus still easily hurt himself as he thrashed in their hold. 

No prayer or remedy could save him, not even giving the prince diluted wine before bed in the hope that it would induce deeper sleep. 

It was Anticlea who decided she would rather be the one harmed than her son. On the nights she woke up to his terrified cries, she would race her husband and guards to Odysseus’ room and hold him loose in her grasp. Though his knobby elbows would jab her ribs and even her face, she cradled her child as if he were still a babe. Even as Odysseus thrashed and his head sometimes slammed into her chin or nose, she only continued to hush him for however long it took for Odysseus’ terrors to cease. 

A few times, she even coaxed him into waking up. Flooded with relief, she would ask her poor boy what he was dreaming of to inspire such terror. The response never changed. 

There would be a dark shadow always lurking right behind him, sometimes even chasing him out of their own home. Anticlea would coo and caress Odysseus’ face as he cried in her arms, assuring him that it was only a bad dream.

While her own pain was her last concern, Laertes could not stand to see his wife looking so beaten after the long nights she spent holding their child. 

Though it broke his heart, Laertes decided that the chain was no longer a suitable strategy, though it did keep Odysseus from wandering. Instead, he ordered for two shorter ropes to be tethered to Odysseus’ bed. These ones terminated in cuffs used to bind his child’s wrists. This way, Odysseus could not fall off the bed and his movements were far more restricted. 

“Forgive me, my son.” Laertes said, willing his hands to not tremble as he bound his own firstborn child as if Odysseus was a criminal or slave. “I only do this because I love you.”

Odysseus, the poor thing, said nothing as his father restrained him. There was a small bronze bell mounted to the wall, low enough that he would be able to reach it even with his limited mobility. The bell was in case he needed help, as there was now a guard posted outside his bedroom at all hours of the night. That was, if he needed help beyond his screaming. 

At least his young sister was kept far from his room and was blissfully ignorant to his cries. 

And yet, there were other nights even stranger than these, rarer than Odysseus’ attempts to walk or scream in his sleep, but frequent enough to deepen his family’s concern. 

Some nights, Odysseus slept without making a sound. But in the morning, no one would be able to wake him. His father could try shaking him, his mother could try singing to him. All the windows could be opened up to let the sunlight in and Ctimene could crawl all over her elder brother, but Odysseus would not wake. 

At first, his parents feared that too much strong wine was inducing this peculiar state, but nights like these happened with or without the drink. Odysseus simply slept as if entranced, though his eyes would dart back and forth beneath their lids. 

He was not ill, but his body would refuse to awaken. Sometimes, it would take only a few hours for him to stir and ring the bell to be let free of his bindings. Other times, Odysseus would sleep through the morning and into the afternoon, even going as far as to slumber through the next night until he jerked awake on his own accord. 

Very rarely, he would sleep for days. 

He would accept no drink, coughing it up in his sleep even as his mother used the smallest trickle of water in the attempts to sustain him. The boy would merely waste away in bed, doing nothing but dreaming until whatever took hold of him released its grasp. 

Odysseus would be ravenous and parched upon waking up and his family would be more than happy to see him eat. His mother would have the servants prepare food all day long, fearful of the way her son’s bones were starting to show through his skin. His protruding ribs spoke of a malnourished, neglected child and Anticlea feared Odysseus would grow ill or even perish without intervention. Even if he claimed he was no longer hungry, she would have him eat as much as possible after one of his sleeping spells, fearing that the next could come as soon as the next night. 

Rarest of all, however, were the nights Odysseus laid down to sleep and woke up in the morning. No screaming, no nightmares, no walking, and no thrashing. He would sleep like an ordinary boy and rise shortly after dawn to go play with his sister or his father’s dogs. Those were the best days for everyone in the house, but not even these moments were truly safe. 

There were occasions scattered throughout the three years of hardship when Odysseus would wake up from one of his nights of contortion, attempted somnambulance, screaming, or a perfectly peaceful slumber to find a gift waiting for him. It didn’t matter if he was tethered to his bed or tied to it, or if he slept in one place for days on end, or if nothing unusual happened at all. There were simply some mornings when Odysseus would wake up to find sand on his feet and a gift in his palm.

Sometimes, it was a tarnished silver coin, as if the thing had spent a while in the sea. But it would be heavy and stamped with sigils he either didn’t recognize or were too faded to see clearly. On other occasions, Odysseus would wake to find himself with such trinkets as a corroded golden brooch or an abalone-inlaid comb.

There was no pattern to his gifts. They didn’t correlate to the phases of the moon, the tides, or seasons. The time between gifts could be months. It could be weeks. Or it could be days. 

They simply appeared whenever they wanted to. But the most frequent gift of his, the one token he found in his palm more often than any other, would be a pearl. Each the size of his thumb’s nail, if not even larger. 

In three years, Odysseus collected four white pearls, five blue, and one or two in shades of brown, maroon, and green. 

Along with more than one dozen black pearls. Impossibly large, rivaling the size of coins, with perfectly round surfaces, not a blemish in sight, and always cold to the touch.

His mother could take away his other trinkets, hiding them away wherever she pleased, but the pearls always had a habit of reappearing under Odysseus’ pillow the morning after they were confiscated. Thus, they were kept in a small box underneath the prince’s bed. 

Anticlea and Laertes knew exactly what all of their child’s nightmares and gifts meant. They could try to deny it, or stall as long as possible, and even lie to their poor boy to maintain what happiness he still had as a child, but they knew the truth. 

Odysseus was being coveted by a god and made the victim of their courting.