#one of them being long dormant bloodlust

[notmyyear1981]

winnix but written as aquaintances at ocs that slowly turns into friends with a friendly competitive rivalry that turns into a frenemy sort of bitter rivalry at toccoa and then harry shows up and balances them out and tells them to Shut Up and Kiss then lew goes to intelligence and they terrorize the whole army by being the most competitive tag team who are also in love and forget sometimes because they continue to try to one up another

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 2

Astarion Ancunin + Bloodplay

I’ve always been a huge vampire fanboy, ever since I read twilight years ago. Plus, a vampire voiced by Neil Newbon? Woof.

Reader is Dark Urge in this. Featuring some Durge headcanons, like their blood being like crack for vampires when willingly given. Not a lot of smut in this, I got kinda carried away by the relationship part.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist

Living a life without memories should have been more difficult than it was, but outside of the random urges for manslaughter, committing manslaughter in your sleep, and how desensitised you appeared to be to all types of pain and torture, it was whatever. After a while you didn’t think about it much, even as time passed and you learned more and more about your past, or how your so-called servant showed up at night to try and tempt you into killing all of your allies.

Your memories still weren’t fully back when you learned about your Bhaalspawn status, but it made sense in the long run. From the first time you had met your allies, you’d thought in detail how you wanted to kill them and bathe in their blood, devour their flesh and make ornaments out of their bones. All but one, that is. And that was none other than your ragtag team’s rogue vampire Astarion, ever since you had first met it was like there was a connection between the two of you.

When you had awoken to him one night attempting to feed off of you, you had felt no disgust, but instead a possessive want. You had grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him in, burrowing his handsome pale face into your neck, almost more excited about being fed on than he was to feed on you. Astarion would later tell you that your blood was the most delicious he had ever tasted, though he had very little else to compare it too, especially not another sentient living being.

That first feeding seemed to have opened the floodgates, not just in Astarion but in yourself. It was like a bloodlust that had been dormant before flashed awake, like the vampire venom coursing through your veins acted like a shot of adrenaline to your system. Astarion would never outright ask to feed from you, he was much too proud, but you could both tell you enjoyed it, maybe a bit too much for either of your sakes, but with the situation you were in neither of you seemed to care.

You never experienced the fatigue one fed on from a vampire should feel, and if Astarion had ever fed on another sentient he would have been able to tell you that he gained more strength from your blood than he would have anyone else. When learning your Bhaalspawn status, it all made sense, at least to those who knew about your kind. It became especially clear when some of Cazadors spawn tried to feed on you and immediately screamed in agony and turned into black soot. The blood of Bhaalspawn, and Bhaals most beloved child, could only be freely given, any who tried to take it by force would die a painful death.

Even after turning down Bhaals fate for you, dying and then coming back again, your blessed blood stayed. And when everything was done and over with, and most split up to continue their lives, you and Astarion stayed together. Neither of you had anywhere to return too, and you could both admit you had fallen in love. Astarion had no master, and whilst the Bhaal cult still worshipped you to some degree, you felt no need to return. The cult had been quite useful in its own way though, as its lairs had possessed different items that would allow Astarion to walk in the sun even without the tadpole.

But even as you two travelled across the lands, set on exploring and living life to the fullest, the yearning for blood was present. It was like an instinct or need that had been implanted deep in your body, as it was in Astarions in his need to feed. And at times his fangs in your neck as he gulped and your hands in his hair wasn’t enough, at times you needed to draw the life from someone’s eyes and bask in the power it gave you.

That is what lead to the situation you found yourselves in now, both covered almost head to toe in the blood of slave traders. Astarion and yourself had stumbled across a medium sized village mainly filled with refuges of different descent, and had learned how their more beautiful children kept disappearing. So, the two of you set out to hunt down these slave dealers. Normally you two would debate on going more than you did, but something had fuelled the two of you.

The children were brought back to the village, you two were paid with what little gold the town had, and you two returned to your camp even when offered housing by the villagers. Whatever room you would have been offered wouldn’t have survived the hunger you both experienced, you had barely removed the order off your body before Astarion was on you, his nails digging into the tight muscle of your chest as he lunged for your neck.

It wasn’t a bite just for hunger, not in the sense of which he normally fed from you for strength, but a hunger for something deeper. Your hand wove through his pale locks and pulled, drawing an almost snarled groan from him as he panted out his nose, dislodging his fangs from one spot to bite another. The blood of a god still flowed through you even after being disowned, so the puncture wounds shut on their own.

After the life Astarion had lived, he had never been much for intercourse after being free, but you two found a deeper connection this way. Your vampire felt no need to get off, but it didn’t stop his hands from sneaking under your belt to start touching and pulling, his nimble fingers playing you like a fine instrument as you lapped at the muscle and veins of your neck.

Orgasm like this was euphoric, you felt alive in ways you couldn’t remember ever feeling, even in your many years as a cult leader. And for Astarion your trust in him lit a fire inside him, making him feel freer and more in charge of himself than he had been for 200 years. Times like this could draw on for hours, your godly blood replenishing with ease no matter how much your lover drank from you, your cock filling up under his actions as he drove you to pleasure and far into oversensitivity again and again.

It always ended with you two having to stumble your way to the nearest river and clean yourselves, even as your legs felt numb and the glow in Astarions skin made you want to jump him again. As you laid down in your shared tent, you always swore your undead lover felt warm to the touch. Maybe it was the large amounts of blood he had consumed, but he always seemed to sleep better on nights like this as he laid on your left side, his ear pressed against your chest to listen to your heart as it pumped. You didn’t miss being a cult leader, you didn’t miss Bhaal, not one bit. And laying here with Astarion made you glad you had given it all up.

[starbright349]

hiyyaa! Howdy! Can u do a request of hazbin hotel x Nezuko!overlord!reader like she looks innocent but is a blood craving demon like everyone would first see her true form during the extermination day like her head was slashed off but it healed reconnected (in demon slayer) like Adam now not knowing how to kill the reader like she heals instantly any wounds and she is merciless in her true form taking down hordes of exterminators at once without one scratch as she smiles sinisterly like everyone is shocked to see her full form even the v’s are shocked cause they always known the reader as a innocent soul who somehow managed to get to hell

thanks! If u don't feel ok with this request u can decline it's ur choice! bye!✌️

OMG! I was about to think of something like this, but you just made it better! Keep in mind, I normally don't watch Anime, so I hope you will still like it.

(Y/N) ...That was the name that almost every single being in Hell was afraid of. She had the appearance of Nezuko. She was quite attractive and had a pretty bubbly personality. She was an overlord on the west-side of Hell, owning almost all of the toy-demons, (Yes those are in Hell, I checked) most of them were stuffed animals, but others were toy ballerinas or raggedy Ann/Andy looking creatures. And they were scared to death of (Y/N).

She owned almost all of them, they all sold their souls to her yet (Y/N) had nothing to offer. She didn't have any powers like Alastor, she wasn't strong like Carmilla Carmine, and she wasn't rich like the three V's.

The reason why they were so scared of her and why they sold their souls, was their own safety. (Y/N) had a very un-healthy since for bloodlust and would often jump out and eat other demons, even if she wasn't hungry. It didn't matter to her who or what she was eating, as long her needs were satisfied.

Some of the other overlords, like Zestial. Suggested that they make (Y/N) a special mouthpiece for her chew on so no more of the souls that they owned would go missing.

Why didn't they just kill her? You may be asking. Well, it's because she can't die. Even with Angelic weapons from Carmilla Carmine. Whenever she would get hurt or have something cut off from her body, it would instantly regenerate and grow back.

So, giving her something to chew on was the next best thing to do.

It had taken all of Zestial and Carmilla's strength, to make (Y/N) wear the mouthpiece since she had refused multiple times. After getting it locked into her jaw, she became less dangerous, and the secret about her 'unique ability' stayed hidden by Zestial and Carmilla. But the other toy-demons weren't any less scared of her.

One day, she had gotten word about the 'Hazbin Hotel' by one of her little dolls. Created by Lucifer's only daughter, Charlotte Morningstar. The idea of the Hotel was to redeem sinners, so they could leave Hell to avoid the exterminations.

Almost like a permanent rehab thing.

(Y/N) became interested in this, little project of the young Morningstar, and wanted to help, maybe even find a chance of getting into Heaven. Of course, she thought that redemption was impossible, but she had to take whatever she could get to escape this place once and for all. What she didn't know was that Alastor was also there. They never had the best history together and would often fight over food.

But regardless. They tried to get along.

The residents of the Hotel were accustomed to her sweet demeanor, unaware of the demonic force that lay dormant within her.

(Y/N) did her best to try and redeem herself, and in Charlie's eyes, she was making the best progress out of anyone in the Hotel.

But soon, when Charlie had to go to a meeting set in Heaven, it didn't go well, and she announce that the Angel's would be coming to the Hotel first.

The annual Extermination Day had arrived in the chaotic realm of Hell. Demons and exterminators clashed in a frenzied battle for supremacy. Among the chaos, the Hazbin Hotel stood as a curious haven for those seeking redemption, or at least a break from the relentless combat outside.

In the midst of the turmoil, a mysterious figure emerged from the shadows. (Y/N), adorned in innocent attire, her demeanor seemingly pure. The denizens of Hell, including Charlie, Alastor, and the rest of the Hazbin Hotel staff, regarded her as an anomaly—a seemingly innocent soul in a realm of the damned.

As the exterminators closed in, their weapons drawn, (Y/N)'s true form manifested. With a swift, clean slash, her head was severed from her body. Gasps of shock echoed through the battlefield as her head tumbled to the ground, only to be followed by a collective gasp as it seamlessly reconnected, healing instantly.

Adam, the head of the extermination squad, stared in bewilderment. "What in the hell...?" he muttered, unsure of how to confront a foe that defied conventional methods of eradication.

The (Y/N)'s eyes glowed with a malevolent crimson as a sinister smile twisted across her face. In this true demon form, she moved with unparalleled speed and precision. Exterminators who dared to challenge her found their efforts futile, as wounds healed instantaneously.

The Hazbin Hotel crew watched in awe and disbelief as the supposedly innocent soul wreaked havoc upon the extermination forces. Vaggie, Charlie, and even the enigmatic Alastor were left speechless. This was not the (Y/N) they had known—an innocent, lost soul.

The reader danced through the battlefield, dispatching hordes of exterminators effortlessly. Her eyes met those of the other demons, who were now witnessing a side of her they never imagined existed. The Vaggy triplets were wide-eyed with shock, their usual confidence shattered.

Alastor, usually composed and calculating, observed with a glint of interest in his eyes. "Well, well, my dear. Seems there's more to you than meets the eye," he remarked with a sly grin.

As Extermination Day continued, the Hazbin Hotel staff found themselves in an unexpected alliance with a blood-craving, merciless demon. (Y/N), in her true form, became an unstoppable force, leaving a trail of astonished demons and exterminators alike in her wake.

[rivalriotrenegade]

Op ur stories is what keeping my sanity in check AND PLS IM IN LOVE WITH DEMON WEREWOLF JASON JMKJCIJJIJIRCJIIFIJCIDHIHIF FLUFFY BOI

Does that mean jason has horns and wings? Or thsts just at reader's interpretation? Im just curious at how he looks like

So yea im gonna be thinking of fluffy demon boi jason for the rest of the week thank u again for these wonderful stories!

Thank u for ur timr, hope ur taking care and lifes treating u well!

(Oh my goshhhhhh this is the first ask I’ve ever gotten. You are literally making me so dang happy rn. I could cryyyyy!!!!!!!!)

Honestly, I haven't thought about it! I've mostly focused on the werewolf aspect of him. (If you’ve read my werewolf Jason Todd pt 1&2) But now that I'm definitely going to do some more  things with his demon side!

What do you think about his demon side being mostly dormant for most of his life until one day his mate gets hurt and then BOOM. Beast unleashed and he unlocks a new sort of demonic form! I’m definitely going to have to write something about that!

I think I’m going to leave what he looks like up to you guys for the most part… 

Buuuuut since this is my first ask, I’ll write a small scenario just for you! <3 (I’ll also post it later as a plain write lol) 

Jason was angry. The night had been rough and he had lost himself once again. Controlling this new form was hard. Incredibly so. He had been so blinded by rage that he hadn’t even noticed himself slipping. It wasn’t until the red haze of bloodlust had lifted that he even realized what he had become. 

“Shit!” He thought. 

His mate was going to be so disappointed in him. God, he hated this new power. There was a time when Jason would have done anything to gain this kind of strength. A power so raw and uncontrollable. There was a time when he wouldn’t have wanted to learn how to control it. A time when he would have embraced it and let it consume him from the inside out. But now he had them. 

His sweet little mate. The love of his life. The reason he wanted to be human. This new ability only seemed to make that goal seem even more unobtainable. How was he supposed to be good enough for them when he couldn’t even keep the monster inside of him at bay? Jason had been so caught up in his self-deprecating thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed his feet carrying him home. 

As Jason walked inside through the door made specially for him, he could hear the tv he left on already talking about the vicious attack near Gales Brook avenue. Didn’t those guys have anything better to do than rubbing his fucking mistakes in his face? Fuck. Bruce was going to be so pissed. He was definitely going to get an ear full from him. Hell he’d probably have to listen to one of his long winded lectures… Again. The thought of Bruce made his blood begin to boil and once again that red haze started to creep in.

“Deep breaths Jason. Deep breaths.” He reminded himself. 

Unfortunately that didn’t last long as his wing caught on the edge of the table sending the vase full of flowers his mate had gotten him crashing to the ground. Just like that the urge to sink his fangs into something came back full force. He reared up only for his horns to scrape against the top of the ceiling. He hated this form! He felt so clumsy in it. But as if that wasn’t bad enough the monotone voice of the news reporter just seemed to sink into his ears and rattle around in his skull. He needed them to shut up. Why wouldn’t they just shut up!? 

Before he knew it the tv was flying across the room. The couch was next, the fabric torn to shreds. He barely heard the door open over the sounds of his own carnage. 

“Jason, is that you?” A soft angelic voice called out to him. Jason froze, his body tensed up even more. What were they doing here? They weren’t supposed to be here! He didn’t want them to see him like this. Not to mention he wasn’t in the right state of mind. He needed them to leave. 

“Jason, what’s wrong?” They asked, walking closer to him, hand stretched up towards his muzzle. In a panic he snarled and snapped at them, his giant bat-like wings flaring up in defense. They drew back in shock. The momentary ‘fear’ in their eyes only caused him to spiral deeper. No. No! He didn’t mean it! Don’t look at him like that! Jason staggered back, nearly tripping as his wings flapped in distress.

“Woah, woah! Jason calm down.” His mate pleaded. Jason's chest heaves up and down. He feels like a cornered animal. Before he even knows what he’s doing he lunges, teeth snapping around their neck, but his fangs don’t even come close to drawing blood. He just holds them there unsure of what to do next. Carefully they bring their hands up, gently running them through his fur. “Your alright love.” They whisper. “Everything's okay. You’re going to be alright.” Slowly Jason melts into their touch. His jaw unlatches from their neck and his body crumples to the floor. 

Jason feels like crying. What was he thinking? He could have hurt them! The only good thing in his life. How could they even stand to be in the same room as him let alone love him? But it’s almost as if they could read his mind, because before he can react they have his large furry head in their hands. “I’m okay Jay, see? You didn’t hurt me. You know I still love you.” Slowly Jason reaches out, before quickly drawing his hand back. “Jason, love. You're not going to hurt me.”

With a bit of coaxing Jason gingerly moves them so they’re sat on his lap. His massive paws hold them close to his furry chest and his snout rests in the crook of their neck. He inhales deeply, trying to use their scent to help calm himself down. His large bat-like wings circle protectively around them. Gently he begins to lap at their neck, a wordless apology. They just sit there in silence for a while as his mate plays with his fur. Slowly they get up taking his large paw into their comically small hand. “Come on love, let’s go to bed.”

Carefully his mate leads him to the bedroom. Jason takes his time to curl up around them. His wing spread out like a blanket over their small form, wrapping around them and tucking them even closer to him. A soft purr rumbles in his chest as his mate whispers sweet words of comfort. As he drifted off to sleep he knew he still had a lot to learn about this new ability and it was going to be a lot of work to learn to control it. But he also knew that as long as he had them by his side he could overcome anything. 

BOOM! DONE! I hope you liked it. :)

Please comment on my works. I really do love interacting with people.

[psychoticwillgraham]

different flavor of eldtritch au under the cut, only where Will's the old god this time

thought of a different kind of eldtritch au where Will is the eldtritch god and was known as the most merciless god who would cause natural disasters/manmade disasters to kill a lot of people when his bloodlust was particularly bad, yet also became some sort of a patron god of the abused and neglected humans who would personally strike down those who were particularly evil and had gotten away with their crimes. ie. serial rapists, child abusers, murderers (specifically ones who target women and children), and occasionally the famous bigot or two who would spew their hatred in public. basically, Will's a bloodthirsty, merciless god who will kill without discretion, but watches over the strange, the abused, those who are different in every way (lbr he's THE biggest godly ally to queer ppl), and yes, his love is violent and visceral, and horrifying, but if you've earned it, he'll bless you with his protection.

he used to be like that, but after a major, nearly world ending incident when he'd been agitated (basically, the ppl responsible for the situation 'poked the beast', the beast being Will, and he took out his fury on humanity, he vowed to never lose control like that again, and attempt to understand and live amongst humanity, wanting to meet at least one human who would understand him and accept him for what he was. right before the fic takes place, he'd been on earth for three hundred years and stayed out of the cosmic order, basically 'retiring' and attempting to live as a human. he'd been doing pretty well, all things considered, until u know who showed up: hannibal.

it starts with Will working at the FBI like in the show, mostly because it would allow him to dispense his own kind of justice to the most reprehensible of humans and not cause mass casualties at the same time, and because he had to yet to dabble in governmental related jobs. when Will and Hannibal first meet, Hannibal immediately registers Will as an old one, because he's one of the most dedicated devotees to the old gods, and he swears he recognizes Will, but can't remember. Will immediately knows that Hannibal's a devotee, because of the blessings and protections he's been gifted in return for his dedication.

they then immediately realize who the other is. Hannibal is one of Will's most dedicated devotees, using the tableaus as a public offering to him, killing the most wicked among them, ridding the world of one less vile person. he also honors Will by eating said victims after designating them as offerings, and feeding them to unsuspecting people, which Will finds amusing, visiting him in his dreams, and guaranteeing him another year of protection and reassurances that he won't let him get caught. they had never met face to face, at least not in Will's human form, which is why it takes a few moments for the realization to hit.

they enter into a relationship as the fic goes on, and Hannibal starts to coax the long dormant urge in Will to unleash his fury on the world and destroy humanity out, despite the three hundred years of progress he'd made. of course, he'd spare Hannibal and elevate him to Will's level of existence, as a consort of sorts, to eventually breed with (yes this is gonna be another eggpreg fic but what else did yall expect from me), and keep for himself. Hannibal eventually succeeds and his human body is destroyed, and his soul is taken to be with Will, and ends the world, well, humanity at least.

that's all i've got for it rn but yeah. probably the 20th fucking au i've come up with now that'll probably never be written. rip lmao

[silkykuut]

I saw it, laid amongst the chains,

Chains that stretched like webs across the open cavern,

Its features illuminated by the red sky,

A dark cloud bounded to the earth.

The tent reminded me that of a circus,

The wooden planks spoiled this image

Of childhood dreams and thrills,

Now appearing as a means of confinement

To whatever beast laid dormant within such a shell.

I could see what appeared to be cannons,

Barrels rested against the edge of each window

As if it were a small bastion.

I walked closer, further inspecting one of the guns,

The ends were molds of humans head,

It felt so real, as if their jaws were torn open

To erupt the flames that would litter the fields,

It felt as if they were real heads painted over with metal.

Each face felt as if they were screaming,

Screaming in anger,

Screaming in grief,

Screaming in desperation,

I knew there were no noises but my mind couldn't help it,

My mind kept playing them out as if they were real, 

Their cries echoing throughout my consciousness.

It saw me

I snapped back upon hearing the rattling of the chains,

It was struggling, tugging on its binds as it glared at me,

I could see its eyes behind its wooden shell, 

All it could see was red.

No noises came from the beast, only the sounds of its struggling

Echoed throughout the room over and over again, 

I couldn’t tell if it was panicking, in some bloodlust, or pleading for me,

I couldn’t help but watch as it continued to struggle.

I was taken a back as I witnessed the arms of the beast erupt

From beneath its shell, a dozen, long, charred arms would reach out,

At first grasping at the air, as if in a blind rage,

Eventually grabbing a hold on the chains 

Where it began to pull and twist on the binds.

I could hear one of the loud snap followed by 

The sound of chains rattling against each other roared across the room

As the beast began to fall, it would be forced against a chain,

Grinding against its body, tearing off pieces of its shell.

Bit by bit, its fleshy interior was exposed,

Black veins and many red soaked eyes littered its body,

I made eye contact with it, I could see myself in its eyes.

The chain continued to tear at its body as it fell, 

A trail of blood and loose flesh covered the metal as it screamed, 

Looking into its eyes, I could see it wanted to scream, I could feel it,

I believed I could hear it, a twisted imagination trying to make up

What the beast would sound like.

Its decent would come to a swift halt, being caught by a web of chains,

Still beyond reach of the ground

I could see its blood, not from the wounds to was dealt

But its eyes, tears rolled down like streams as it screamed at me

Screaming in anger,

Screaming in grief,

Screaming in desperation,

Its hopeless tugging on the chains that bound it to the earth,

All I could think of now was to run, its silent cries roaring 

Through the tunnels, till I once again found myself in the light.

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

some quick fun facts about Ruin and Bloodmoon in the Dentist au (placed in no particular order because my brain is still booting up):

okay so in this AU when Ruin is defeated by the boys, the virus isn't really 'cured'-it's sort of just in a dormant setting, which can be broken with enough strain to the networking and systems. That's not really Sun and Moon's problem though, so they kind of send them on their merry way with a 'do what you want as long as you aren't plotting to kill us'. Ruin leaves the pizzaplex (unpleasant memories from their dimension linger in the walls) and ends up finding Eclipse's place (Eclipse forgot to turn off his GPS chip which means anyone connected to the Plex network can find him relatively easily).

After a hasty explanation under the influence of a lazer cannon held to their head, Ruin ends up being employed by Eclipse as a medical receptionist for the dentistry cuz Eclipse has no staff besides himself. Eclipse can't really offer them money at first so he makes a deal promising to fix Ruin up with a new body and try to permanently remove the virus in exchange for help-Ruin does end up being paid later on, they spend their first paycheck on a trip to IKEA with Eclipse for the legendary Blahaj the shark plush (because my own personal experiences dictated this as extremely enjoyable and shut up they get to have childlike wonder).

Oh yeah by the way, Ruin lives with Frank because I said so, hush they'd be great roommates and you know it.

Bloodmoon is sort of a similar situation-they're captured by the celestial twins and sent off to dentistry cuz it’s now the equivalent of the celestial trauma rehabilitation center or something in their eyes. The twins don't immediately go there, though, preferring to actually explore the city for a little bit (they despise the idea of having to live with Eclipse). Eclipse hears some noise outside his apartment and grabs a broom thinking he’s gonna have to scare off some alleycats only to find Bloodmoon screeching cuz they fell in a trashcan and can’t get out. Initially it's a very rocky interaction because on one hand you have Bloodmoon hissing and spitting at Eclipse and on the other our poor dentist is just standing with a coffee mug in hand blinking blearily at the red thing in front of him. He just invites them in and goes back to bed (a terrible decision really cuz he wakes up to all his furniture trashed), which they find a bit out of character of him. They don't work with Eclipse, both because they aren't interested in his business and because Eclipse doesn't want them around bleeding gums and sharper equipment.

They don't live with Ruin and Frank and kinda come and go as they please for a little while, which Eclipse slowly starts to get more worried about. After a particularly bad incident he lets them stay a night at his apartment, but it's not really an experience either party enjoys. Bloodmoon does eventually end up living with Lunar (Eclipse asked Lunar if he could house them and Lunar was okay with it) (Lunar has his own little apartment here by the way) (Earth lives with Monty, same as cannon) and Eclipse visits them semi-frequently. He puts his own personal project aside to try to figure out a way to pick apart their code and take out that bloodlust, but in the meantime he just procures bloodbags from undisclosed locations for the Blood Twins to feed on. He's unfortunately not equipped with behavioral therapy skills so he can't really help them with the violent urges that come with their programming, so Lunar's trying to help them with that.

[tamayosclinic]

I would love to request the prompt "Wake up. You have to wake up. Please. For me." & "Just please open your eyes." with Muzan x Pregnant Wife Reader. Angst and Tragedy for Muzan and from his POV if possible.💛

"Wake up. You have to wake up. Please. For me." "Just please open your eyes." | Muzan x Pregnant Wife!Reader

Warning(s): Angst

Author's Note(s): This is my first time writing in first person POV and I feel like I wrote better though I generally prefer third person for the sake of tapping into all characters' thoughts and feelings. Anyways enough rambling from me. Enjoy this oneshot.

Word Count: 698

100+ Followers Event [Closed]

The side of the bed where my wife (Y/n) sleeps is cold and untouched. Her scent had faded from sheets a long time ago, but the emptiness in my heart remains. I would not consider myself an emotional being, but my wife disproved that time and time again. I could still remember when I first met her. It was on another insignificant night.

Granted, it was in the middle of the summer festival, but such events are trivial to me. (Y/n) had run into me, too enraptured by the vibrant colored lights and joyful of the crowd to pay attention to where she was going.

If it were any other person, they would have been dead by the end of the night as I do not take kindly to invasions of my space. However, my petty bloodlust melted away when I turned and laid eyes on (Y/n). I felt my heartbeat rapidly spreading an unfamiliar warmth and fuzziness throughout my entire body for the first time.

I wanted to get close to her. To know her. To be with her.

Love at first sight? I genuinely believe it was that, and I’m overjoyed to have married her. Dormant emotions such as joy, fulfillment, and content had come alive in the years I spent with my wife. However, karma is a bitch, and it took advantage of the life I built with (Y/n) to bring justice to all my wrongdoings.

Getting (Y/n) pregnant was just the start. When she broke the news, I could not be more overjoyed. I accompanied her to every doctor’s visit. I would rest my head atop her stomach, using my demon senses to listen to the baby’s sounds. If only I had followed my instincts when I first heard the vibrations, a demon would typically give off. I ignored it, and now the baby is slowly eating (Y/n) from the inside out.

She has been in the hospital comatose since the start of her second trimester. I had gotten into the routine of visiting her in the hospital, often falling asleep beside her in the hospital bed as I find sleeping in our own bed painful at times. Tonight was another one of those nights in which I stayed the night. All visitors are usually forced out after visiting hours, but with some bribery, I can bypass the rule.

I sit on the bedside, holding (Y/n)’s arm and watching the slight rise and fall of her chest with each shallow breath—my self-assurance that she is still alive. Her swollen belly bugles out. I listen to the baby's demonic heartbeat rather than the doctor reporting her declining condition as if that is not obvious just by looking at her.

“We have done all we can. It’s all up to (Y/n) to bounce back.” He concludes before leaving.

Good riddance. I sigh and bring (Y/n)’s hand up to my forehead. “Wake up. You have to wake up. Please. For me.”

I somewhat treasured the silence of the room. It allowed some sense of serenity after having to listen to that babbling doctor. Though I had to admit with some of what he said. Mainly that both (Y/n) and the baby would not survive together. I decided to save them both my own way with some mulling over.

In all my time with (Y/n), I kept my demon identity secret for the sake of not bringing her into the cruel world of demons. I intended to keep it that way for her whole mortal lifespan, but I would not mind living out all of eternity with her and our child.

So I scanned my surroundings to check that the coast was clear before jabbing a nail into her wrist and injecting a decent amount of blood to get the job done without killing her. I shut my eyes as she convulses, unable to bear watching her suffer.

“Just please open your eyes.” I wish out loud when she has finally stilled.

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears while I waited in anticipation with my eyes glued to her. At last, her eyes open to reveal her (e/c) cat-like irises, and my joy finally comes back.

[dogloveri23]

Is this my end?

Pairing: Xiao x reader, Childe x reader

Warning: Almost dead,mentions of blood,hit by missile, Angst

A/n: so this is an angst, I had an idea but I'm not sure if it came out the way I wanted it to.

Uid: 627473190

Written by @dogloveri23

Death was a concept that many people of Liyue tend to overlook. You never really looked into it too much as you were one who just like to live in the moment . But here you are thinking about how you got yourself into this situation, how you got yourself to the brink and if this was the end. Just a couple of months ago you were fine. You were staying at the Wangshuu Inn, where you often used as your base of operations for your personal tasks and stayed with your boyfriend who was an adeptus. Many people of Liyue worshipped and praised them but they never really though of the adepti as individuals. Much less imagined them to be capable of being  in relationships. Xiao was a very vigilant and cut off person. How you managed to get with him remained a mystery to both yourself and Verr goldet. You were part of the Adventurers Guild and you often only took research commissions. So why were you surrounded by your blood? You can barely see and barely make out your surroundings. Come to think of it you couldn't even remember what the argument was, all you could remember was that there was an exchange of hurtful words causing  you to removed yourself from situation. You disappeared from his life just like he wanted you to without any warning, without giving any hints, without letting him know that you were safe and now this was how the gods planned punish you.

It wasn't long after you disappeared that you decided to live in the Harbour, after all Xiao would most likely never end up looking there because of his strong beliefs. On arrival, you had been told time and time again not to spend your time with or give any attention to the fatui Harbinger who constantly roamed around Liyue. But you couldn't help it, he caught your attention, though it wasn't in a romantic sense, you found him mysterious and strange and you could not understand his motives. He was too dangerous, far more dangerous for ordinary adventurer like you to get involved with. You had just started at the Adventurer's Guild not too long ago and had barely got you feet wet in the art of adventuring. You had basic combat skills and next to no sense of alertness for nearby danger. Your were too naive to know who was dangerous and who was an ally. So when he put on his friendly facade, you so easily for it. You barely had any friends in Liyue Harbour and jumped at the opportunity to make friends. When Childe offered to go with you to complete the commissions you had just gotten from the adventurer's guild, you were over the moon! Maybe you would even learn something from him if you found yourself in a difficult situation. But everyone knew Liyue was a dangerous place for new adventurers to start out. The danger was higher than a place like Monstadt. Since Childe had offered to go with you, you decided to take on something more daring in hopes that you would learn something from him. Despite your previous relationship with the adeptus, he had refused to train you on countless occasions. His reason being that his training methods would be too intense for a human or at least a beginner like yourself. The commission was to take down some Hillichurl Towers. But you did not take into account that there was a dormant ruin guard that often was spotted near the camp. Your plan was to destroy the towers and move on. It would have easily and quickly been done with if you had not brought a fatui with a high bloodlust with you. Childe has other plans, he would never run from a fight no matter how pointless it was.

The fight got heated and the dormant ruin guard was awoken when it sensed people not too far from it. It started to attack you and Childe during the commission. Now you had to handle Hilichurls and a ruin guard. You could barely wield your pole arm properly and you were without a vision. Needless to say when it fired its missiles at you, you were slow to react and before Childe could do anything they had hit you, sending you flying back into the boulder behind you. You had let out a grunt of pain on Impact before dropping to the floor unable to perceive your surroundings. This left Childe to finish up the Ruin guard and the Hilichurls while you laid there helpless.

Which is where you were now, wondering if you were going to die before seeing him. If his last memory of you is your arguement and you walking out of his life. Before you began to relax, you whisper "Xiao", causing the Yaksha to appear by you in an instant. He easily took out the ruin guard and other threats with Childe while you closed your eyes.

Xiao's mind was racing, he was is no way used to human culture, so when the argument took place, he has no idea how you would take it. He never expected it to get this bad to the point where you would not call him to join you and waited until you were almost fatally injured. He never expected you to leave him alone and exclude him from you life entirely. He had search for you for months on end but when he finally caught wind of your whereabouts he finds you on your way to the other side. He wrapped his arm around your form before lifting you off the floor bridal style. He dashed to bubu pharmacy in haste. Whatever your reason was, he didn't care but he would not allow this to be your end.

The ginger haired Fatui could only watch the scene thinking "so it was them after all".

[insurrection-if]

Hello Rosita! Could you tell me about Bones power? the drawbacks? See, not simping too much!

~ヾ(・ω・) Aha, hello! I must say from my own experiences as a simp, the restraint is admirable, haha! (´∀｀) And, wow, this post became so long without my notice! Elov is a unique case with his gift being as multi-faceted as it is. Well, any gift has the potential to spread across as many domains as his (though mixing between Gifted bloodlines certainly helps), but nonetheless . . .

Bone's Gift is essentially the mythos of a Draugr.

Gifts bear the potential to evolve, and Bones had not yet unlocked the full capabilities that lie dormant in within his soul. That said, his gift has developed quite a bit since his last encounter with the MC.

In those days, the cornerstone of his powers had been, and continues to be, his inducement of insanity in living beings within a certain range. Personalized delusions, violence, bloodlust . . . such are the effects he can produce by proximity alone. This aura has reduced in volatility with age, experience, and self-discipline, but his grasp on its containment weakens with the rise of his rage or jealousy; hence his desire for stoicism in the present, haha!（ ´∀｀）

Bones has learned to concentrate this ability into more focused areas and individualized targets, thus reducing the causalities that follow its use. A common 'delusion' he has learned to employ as well, even outside the range of his madness, has been the perceived 'darkening' of one's surroundings - almost as if he has summoned night around them. It helps to disorient his targets, or it may aid him in avoiding a fight through stealth alone.

In childhood, Elov had a knack for sensing (or 'foresight' towards) grim outcomes which has flourished to become vague, messy, and sporadic glimpses into future tragic or violent occurrences. With time, he bears the potential for murky prophetic visions into the future. The mind-tearing headaches inspire rather sour moods for him though. (~_~;)

Bones also possesses an uncanny strength, even in his scrawny youth, yet not to an astounding or entirely suspicious degree. His durability against commonly lethal weapons and attacks is unnatural (and far more noticeable) as well, though that is not to say he cannot be physically taken down with enough force, consistency, and brutality. Iron will be particularly helpful in a fight against him. His weight also seems to change based on temperament but normally not beyond a five pound difference.

Considering the 'undead' and revenge-driven nature of the draugr, well, that's a conversation to be had with the MC at a future time. I'll simply say that Elov exponentialized his gifted mastery following a horrific event in his past; one followed by physiological changes. Grey skin, still blood, shifting red irises (or so the MC sees), and more alterations have been afflictions from his gift that he cannot undo or control. Further transformations, temporary and permanent, may be seen as well in-game. These physiological changes have been especially disturbing for Elov as they further dehumanize his sense of self.

Bones has ever-so-vaguely begun to tap into his potential for dream infestation, and pestilence has arisen by 'happy-and-overlooked' accident in extreme circumstance (thus remaining unassociated with his gift in his mind). Shape-shifting has yet to be realized at all, a similar case to curses and bad luck. Weather alteration is no more than a vague 'coincidence' in only the most forceful exertions of his gift, and intangibility either as wisps and smoke or a being sinking within the surface is not even imaginable to him (though wisps may cling to him if he loses more control over his consciousness / sanity while using his gift). And, finally, size alteration remains solely within the realms of Boar and Scales.

Though his potential could (hypothetically) expand into all these domains, no Gifted in history has every fully realized their latent powers. For Bones especially, the experiences that would have to occur to spark his further evolution would not be easily undertaken, demanding extensive suffering and sacrifice, simply due to the inherent nature / origin of his gift. (｡•́︿•̀｡)

. . . Oh, and one final drawback: Elov was notorious for bearing a foul stench as a child, both due to his lifestyle habits and an innate side-effect of his gift. The MC would have been the sole individual in their community to bear an immunity Elov's odor due to the absolute override his 'scented blood'. Bones dons a generous amount of deodorant and cologne in human company, though his unnatural stench has eased to a tolerable level outside the use of his gift. Really, most Gifted don't take any notice but it's still a sore (self-conscious) spot with him, haha!

Thank you for the ask! （＾ω＾）

[shini--chan]

Your writing is so good! Can I ask for part to of the invasion of small country S/O but with the Nordics? I'd love to see their dormant viking side to show.

Then I’ll gladly indulge :)

Yandere Nordics

Yandere Denmark

The prospect of somebody invading you, his property, is more than enough to send him flying into an ungodly rage. You’re his and that means that anybody that even dares to merely consider invading you (except him) would have the most brutal punishment in store from them.

Matthias’ usual cheery persona would completely evaporate to everybody’s horror and awe. He’d soon be by your side, conducting half of the operation in your stead because he has far more expertise and experience when it comes to such things. And because he firmly believes that he is always in the right.

Denmark wouldn’t hesitate to lead most missions himself, right there on the front lines. Indeed, he would revel in the ultraviolence that is war to the point that it would be terrifying. You would probably be regularly to snap him out of his bloodlust, if at that point anybody would be capable of such a feat. It would only be when he manages to completely liquidates the enemy personification so that they would have to painstakingly reform themselves from scratch that he would be satisfied.

 Yandere Finland

Like by Denmark, his pleasant attitude would dissipate (not that it was his entire personality to begin with) to make way for something else. Unlike Denmark, he would be far more patient, displaying ice-edged wrath instead of hot-tempered fury.

Timo is a patient man, more than any other person you’ll have ever met. It would be a surprise to even you when he would show up and you’d be further shocked by his actions, not to mention how effective them would be.

Finland is a hunter and he would regard the whole affair like the hunt. The enemy isn’t human, more like a rapid wolf that needs to be killed off before it can inflict any more damage. He’d bring only a small battalion with him, but that would be more than enough.

He is brutal, efficient and fear-inducing. What is more terrifying than an enemy you can’t see and who can still smite you with a well-aimed shot between the eyes

 Yandere Iceland

He wouldn’t bring any soldiers or weapons at all. No, Emil is a peaceful person, you could almost think that he is a Jainist he is just that peaceful most of the time.

Instead, Iceland would send medical personal and equipment, as well as medicine and food rations. He’d act as your emotional support person, calming you down after attacks and bombings. Just don’t except cliché, dramatic displays of empathy – he has long grown numb to such things.

Furthermore, he’d firmly believe that it is best to help you overcome all the trauma, instead of having you develop a victim mentality where you wallow in self-pity for the rest of your days and use your past experiences of a disgusting excuse to gain cheap sympathy.

But, on the other hand, if that would make you emotionally dependant on him then he would gladly push you into that abyss.

 Yandere Norway

While he would contemplate taking up arms again so that he could swoop in to save you in a wave of fire and brimstone. But with a sigh he would resign himself to trying things the more diplomatic route before resorting to such over-the-top violence.

At first, he’d just resort to making it a bureaucratic and diplomatic hell for the enemy. War is very expensive, if that person would have troubles springing up at home then one reaction would be to call of the invasion…

…or fight even harder in the prospect with enriching themselves with the conquered territory.

In that case he would also be by your side, sending in supplies like Iceland would, just with weaponry on top. Should push come to shove with the situation being so dire that you’d be close to being captured/killed, then heads would roll.

Additionally, he would see the situation as an opportunity to meld you closer to him.

 Yandere Sweden

It goes almost without saying that he would be there immediately, possibly even before the invader. He’d be more silent then usual, and it would be scary to know that his silence isn’t ignorance, rather him intensely observing his surroundings.

What would be even more scary would be to see the nonchalant attitude he’d have to obliterating the enemy, as if this is just another day of mundane work that must be done.

He’ll also take it as a given afterwards that you’re indebt to him and owe him big time for his aid. You wouldn’t want to stand there as a narcistic jerk for denying him, would you? Then be a good pet and give him his dues.  

[procutemeister]

these, our bodies possessed by light || vergil x reader, chapter 1

The city of Red Grave has been defeated; Urizen, the devil king, has risen. No warriors have been able to best him, and countless lives have been offered to him in sacrifice. They say the devil king’s bloodlust is boundless… And you, last of the witches of Red Grave, are his betrothed.

(Vergil x F!Reader, with some V x F!Reader. Arranged marriage AU, with elements of Beauty and the Beast and 1001 Nights. An attempt to give Urizen some personality. Romance, eventually.)

much thanks to @tonitart for supporting me as i write this. <3 if you'd like to be tagged, let me know.

read it under the cut or on ao3 here!

--

these, our bodies possessed by light

1. land a man in a landscape and he’ll try to conquer it

--

Today was to be your wedding day.

Soon to be married to the devil king, all you could feel was trepidation and fear. Your marriage was not one for love, far from it; it was a marriage of compromise. Of sacrifice.

An offering of your life, for peace between the humans and demons, a reprieve from the cruelties of hell on earth.

You have a responsibility, your aunt told you as you dressed in the nicest gown you owned. It’s an honor, to have so great a task bestowed upon you.

I am going to die, you wanted to say. Your finest dress would become your funeral gown.

As one of the last witches, you were offered to the devil. With your unique abilities, the people of Red Grave hoped that you might find a way to end the devil king’s reign of terror. While it was true that you possessed some magical power, you were experienced mostly with healing and incantations, rather than combat magic.

You had met the man—if he could be called that—who was to be your husband only once before. You were relieved that at least, you would not have to live in the Underworld for this union; you would live in a palace that remained on earth.

No man nor demon on this world or the one beneath could face him. The people were sure that his was the wrath of a god, unleashed upon a defenseless humanity, and that such a great and terrible god could only be sated by the ultimate sacrifice, the gift of life.

However, you remembered that day—meeting your betrothed, slouched on his throne as you were presented to him. He had not been any more amenable to the marriage than you were. Impossibly tall, his features masked by demonic armor, you had been unnerved at the sight of him. You recoiled when you imagined the marriage bed—you could not possibly be expected to perform the wifely duties for such a creature, could you? He looked utterly monstrous to your human eyes: a twisted appearance, his body the color of brimstone and blood and covered in roots and thorns.

His voice was inhumanly deep and rattled your very bones.

“Is this to be my bride? A human?”

Despite yourself, you froze like a rabbit faced by the wolf. Your heart thundered and you could not help but cower, because what defense did you have against this creature?

You let your eyes settle on him. You could not discern even a hint of humanity in him, only the cruel cold glow of blue light in the gnarls of his skin, the suggestion of a crown by the thorns on his brow. There was no soul in those eyes.

The man beside you quailed, though he had been the one who had arranged all this. He said, “This is an offering from the humans. One of our most precious—one of our own. A great sacrifice.”

You were hardly as great an offering as he made you out to be. You were no virginal young maiden, no legendary beauty, nor the prized first daughter of a proud and subjugated lord. Your life and your body were being thrown away to sate the bloodthirst of a devil that did not even desire you. What use were you, really, to him?

He seemed to consider this. “I could kill her,” he said, “the night we are married. I have no use for human scum.”

Your blood ran cold. He couldn’t possibly—but this was a devil, not just any devil, but the king of them. You would not put it past him to kill you in cold blood. You knew that devils would not hesitate to execute any mortal that dared displease them.

And those who had come to his house before you, all killed by his hand, were the evidence: warriors that dared take arms against him, spies who attempted to undermine his power from the inside, and others like you, who had been offerings from their own hometowns. They, too, had been sacrificial lambs, offered to the demon king in a desperate bid for the legions of hell to stop ravaging the land, misguided appeals to the devil king’s nonexistent mercy. You knew not why those women had been deemed unsatisfactory, nor how many they numbered, only that they had all failed to suppress the devil king’s thirst for blood.

Rumors abound that he took wives not for procreation nor for pleasure, but for his own sadistic, murderous desires. Some lived for quite a while, others only a single day before being executed. But they all ended up the same way: dead.

Today, at your wedding, you had to find out how you could stay alive.

Before you left, you recited a spell of protection for yourself, so that you might not come to harm. You spoke the incantation from your memory as easily as you read it from a book, the familiar words and energy of the magic calming your mind. You pulled out a pendant you wore around your neck, a simple crystal you had infused with dormant power. This you poured your protective ward into, then hid the pendant beneath your wedding clothes. Then, a prayer, to the spirits above and below, that your magic might hold, and your treacherous intentions remain obscure.

Your betrothed had made almost no arrangements for the ceremony, not that you thought demonic weddings were even supposed to exist, anyway. There was simply a minister who had administered the rite upon the both of you, reading aloud the marriage vows and presenting the documentation of your union. One other demon was present as your witness, and that was all. You found you much preferred this, if the alternative were to get married with the people’s eyes upon you, watching and complacent at your sacrifice.

Your husband was called Urizen. He remained seated and he spoke no more than was absolutely necessary. There was no reception after the ceremony, only a dispersal of the scant amount of demons in attendance.

He did not stay with you afterwards, either. In fact, you would not see him until well after night had fallen.

In the meantime you were introduced to your chambers. Possibly the only good thing about this was that you would be living in comfort, however short the rest of your life might be. The palace was an old one, standing centuries before your great-grandparents were ever born, and comprised of so many rooms and structures that you could conceivably take years to explore it all. It was clean, surprisingly so, but cold and empty. It did not have the life of servants bustling around, or any other residents. Or maybe it did, and you had not seen neither hide nor hair of them. The palace was certainly large enough.

Of note were the books in what you assumed to be your husband’s room. There was an astonishingly large amount, and when you looked, they were mostly fiction and poetry, contrary to what you had thought. Some titles you even recognized, and many were well-worn, obviously read several times.

It was a strange detail, you mused, that a devil with such disdain for humans would so readily consume their literature. It was something that had kept the gears of your mind turning the rest of the day. You had a way with words, and writing had always been one of your strengths. This, along with the way your magic manifested, would be the key to your survival.

In the evening you took dinner alone. Despite being human, you were still considered with some respect, as you were served delicious food in a large and ornate dining hall. You were just completely alone; even the demons that served you were mere mannequins, unable to speak or perform actions beyond their purpose. You had the feeling that your new husband did not like to populate his home very much. You weren’t sure if that were better or worse; surely there would be no one to witness or call out to if he attempted to murder you, and you doubted that anyone would even notice in such a situation.

After dinner you washed up, spending so long in the bath you were sure you would shrivel up like a prune. You didn’t want to think about what was to come once you headed to bed; Urizen had not yet returned from wherever he had gone.

With apprehension you left the bath and dressed for bed. You wore a long nightgown, one that covered your body as much as possible. You missed your corset and your layers that shielded your body, much better than a simple nightgown could. You climbed into the bed, a large, ornate affair carved from dark wood and curtained with damask. The bed was sinfully soft, and against your better judgment you found yourself slipping into sleep as you lay there, wrapped in blankets and exhausted from the day’s events.

* * *

You didn’t want to do this.

Terror clasped at your very bones as the plan was explained to you: you, the last witch remaining in Red Grave, would be sent tomorrow into the devil king’s lair under pretense of an offering, as many other towns and cities had attempted to do.

“Hide your magic,” your aunt told you. “Find out what you can about his protections.”

“Yield to his demands,” your uncle instructed you. “Do what you must to survive.”

Numbly, you nodded, even as your veins ran cold.

“Your life is no longer your own,” they said. “The people of Red Grave count on you, now.”

The people of Red Grave had sent their men and women in futile attempts to fight the demon king. When that failed, they began to leave, or to bend the knee to cruel and demonic overlords. Some had fled to Fortuna, hoping that the supposed land of Sparda’s blessing would offer respite from the demonic invasion. Only a few years later was that hope disproven; demons installed themselves in that city’s highest of holy orders, and now Fortuna too bowed under the weight of hellish rule. Your parents had gone to war, too. They fought, and they died, and now you were expected to assume that burden.

You pressed a hand to the crystal that hung from your neck, a last gift from your mother, who taught you everything you know.

Then you silenced your fear. Outside, the summer flowers bloomed, mindless of the blood spilled on their grounds, and you promised upon your life to venture into the heart of the devil king.

* * *

You immediately woke at the opening of the door. You were still restless, after all. Moonlight still poured in through the window; you hadn’t been asleep long. The one who entered was a devil, one you recognized attending your wedding. From his chest he glowed orange, the light the color of molten rock, with an impressive set of wings extending from his back. He spoke:

“My lady. You are summoned to the throne room.”

You blanched at the address, though you expected it as befitting one who was the demon king’s wife. You supposed this made you a queen, but the title meant nothing when you felt like a prisoner. You were not allowed in the throne room, not unless you were explicitly summoned. Despite your position, you held no power in this place. All you had were your brains and the strength of your will.

“Y-Yes,” you wavered, and stood unsteadily, your hands wringing at the cloth of your nightgown. You followed the devil to the large room where Urizen stayed, dark save for the fireplace, kept lit with blue flames.

It was your husband, looking much the same as he had during your wedding. He still wore the same expression of cold indifference. At his side floated the ever-present red jewel, a mysterious object from which you could feel waves of strong demonic power. What manner of magic was it, you wondered?

“My lord husband,” you addressed him, taking a knee as you had been instructed to.

“Wife,” he grumbled, as if saying the word pained him. “Get up.”

You stood. Urizen was seated on his throne, one arm bending to support the chin, eyes skating over you to land on the flames in the fireplace as if you weren’t even there.

You had not moved. You bit your lip, wondering if what you had in mind would work, or if it were even sane. Once again, the image of the books next to the chair revived itself in your mind.

“My lord husband,” you said again, “may I interest you in a story?”

Your voice interrupted his brooding. He raised his head slowly from his hand, his face turning towards you in what looked like a silent fury. You hoped you hadn’t inadvertently angered him with your seemingly inane question.

“…A story?”

There it was, that deep, deep voice that sounded like the rumble of the earth itself. There was something strange in his tone: less animosity, something more akin to questioning. Maybe curiosity, if you were feeling generous.

“Yes,” you said, “I like to tell stories.”

You could barely keep the tremor from your own words. So far, he had done nothing, but Urizen still terrified you, as distant and dangerous as he was, the sound of his words before still echoing in your head.

I could kill her the night we are married. I have no use for human scum.

You didn’t know if he was serious or not. Maybe for now he would keep you alive, or maybe he would murder you later.

“You realize this is no harmonious marriage,” he said. “You mean nothing to me. I do not care about your stories.”

He sneered the last word. You could not help but shiver, but your mind’s eye once again found those well-worn books, stories and poetry that were clearly loved and perused. How long had it been, you wondered, since he had cracked open a book?

You settled yourself next to his throne. Carefully you started to speak, weaving the story you had formed in your mind. You had always been a lover of art, of literature, and you had dedicated many years of study to the humanities. You felt you could put together a story that would keep his attention and weave your spell so that your husband would not lay a hand on you and—maybe—change his heart.

To your astonishment he made no move to stop you. On the contrary, he seemed like he was listening, though he never said a word and never did he turn those cold eyes towards you.

You felt your resolve waver, but you didn’t let yourself falter, not when you had lulled him into this strangely receptive mood with your words. You still feared the devil—after all, he could so easily kill you, and even slouched in his throne you felt the aura of death from him. The red crystal revolved, silent and dangerous.

You continued your tale. You told it all the way until you had reached the last of what you’d written. The hero had fled the destruction of his hometown and met a young woman to whom he’d recounted his tale. He felt torn between his need for vengeance and the feelings that were quickly growing for her.

“Is that all?” Urizen asked.

You looked out the east window. The sky was swathed in violet and edged in gold by the encroaching sun.

“Morning approaches, my lord husband,” you said. “The story must be continued the next evening—I haven’t slept.”

He grumbled, but made no further complaint. Then, “Get out.”

“My—”

“Return to your chambers. Bother me no further.”

You quickly stood, nodded, and nearly ran out of the throne room. You weren’t sure how long you ran, or if you were even going in the right direction, but you made it back eventually.

You closed the door behind you, chest heaving, and not only from the running. You felt like you had just escaped with your life, and when you clutched a hand to your chest, your heart was pounding. You clenched your fists, fear and anxiety knotting between your lungs.

Knees weakening, you fell back into the large, soft bed, trying to calm your racing heart. After tossing and turning you fell finally into a restless sleep.

* * *

The next morning you woke alone. So, he didn’t have you killed in your sleep, at least.

When you looked out the window the sun was already high in the sky. You’d slept in a little; considering how late you’d stayed up the previous night, telling your husband your story, it was to be expected.

You hadn’t been given any actual responsibilities in your new home. You had the distinct feeling that Urizen considered you little more than a nuisance in his home; a thing without real purpose here. It suited you just fine: the more invisible you were in this den of demons, the more likely you were to get out of this alive. And the longer you stayed, the more you would become acquainted with the devil king, and his weaknesses, no matter how small those might be. All you needed was a single chink in his armor, and you’d be able to work your magic.

Your husband, to your knowledge, had never left the throne room. You could not go to check; the red devil that had escorted you there the night before was also nowhere to be seen. Was he just a servant, you wondered, or something more? His presence at the wedding implied the latter.

With you thus unoccupied, you decided to fill your day with exploration. The palace was undoubtedly beautiful, and you wondered why a devil would take such a place as residence. Maybe it was a site of great demonic power…? The home of a conquered human lord? You would not put it past the devils to take a man’s home as a war trophy. You were simply astonished at the state the house had been left in: it was pristine, as if servants cleaned it every day, as if demonic forces had never breached its walls. The glass of all the windows remained intact, the floors sparkling; elegant curling columns reaching towards beautifully painted, vaulted ceilings, and stained glass throwing multicolored light against the walls.

Wandering the halls, you trailed a hand absently along the walls. The sunlight shone brightly outside, and the thickness of the air signaled the height of summer approaching.

Somehow, you found yourself at the far corridor of the west wing. Judging by the sun’s position, it could not be later than noon, and so you thought a bit more exploring could not hurt until you were expected to take your midday meal.

This part of the palace was as pristine as the rest of it, just as clean and untouched, but the energy felt different here. Where you previously felt ignored by the few beings that crossed your path in the halls, here you simply felt… alone. It wasn’t a lonely feeling. On the contrary, you felt peace in the solitude.

At the end of this corridor was a large double door, vaulted, heavy and inlaid with colored tile. It was beautiful, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was inside. After checking to see that you were indeed alone, you placed both hands on the beautiful doors and pushed, making your way inside.

The room that revealed itself to you was a vast library, with towering shelves that seemed never-ending. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, so bright and the air so still that you could see the motes of dust floating.

The way the doors creaked and the difficulty in pushing told you that no one had set foot in here for a very long time. You supposed demons did not really have much time or purpose for human literature, though once again you thought of the books in your chambers. Were they Urizen’s? You doubted it when you thought about it. He had not been to those chambers with you, and it seemed in character for him to arrange a whole separate suite of rooms for you, far away from himself.

You looked again to the library you were in. A shame no one seemed to come here, because this place had been built to take advantage of the sunlight. There were tables and chairs for writing, and cozy little alcoves for reading. You could easily picture yourself spending hours here. Your parents had nurtured a love for reading in you, and you felt a prick of loss at the thought of them.

As you lightly ran your fingers across the spines of the books, reading their titles, the dust stirred. Truly, no one had come in here in recent memory but you. You thought maybe this could be your hideaway, far enough that you could feel even a little like yourself again, and still close enough by that you could easily validate your presence here. All these books would help, too, as would the ones in your bedroom, for crafting more of the stories that had somehow ensnared your husband’s attention. And if, by chance, they held magical knowledge as well, you could do some surreptitious research.

Moreover, it was simply a beautiful place. Even if you were not in the clutches of a devil, you would gladly come here every day.

The sun outside heralded the afternoon, and you knew you would be fetched and served lunch. Quietly, you left the library, closing the doors behind you. You could return another time, you thought. For now, you would acquiesce to the expectations (however little there were) of you.

In the throne room a human was being brought to kneel before the demon king. This man had dared protest his power and struck one of his knights in retaliation. Such insolence demanded punishment, and the decree for him was death.

“Do what you must,” said Urizen. “My power will not be challenged.”

He waved an imperious hand, sprawled as he was on his throne. The guards took the prisoner away, heedless of his piteous cries.

“I did nothing wrong! It was him, he—”

They dragged him to the courtyard, the man’s struggling making a spectacle of the walk. It was just your luck: the window overlooking that courtyard was the one right in front of you.

One of the silent knights struck him across the face with his metal gauntlet. He fell to the ground, and another pulled him onto the chopping block.

His pleas were cut short by the descent of the axe upon his neck.

You stared, barely believing what had happened right in front of your eyes. A man had been killed. You watched the blood spurt, the ground turn red beneath him. Above the body, the branches of a large, leafless tree swayed in the windless air, its bark as white as bone. Red splattered over that bone-white tree, soaked into the earth beneath, and his head rolled on the ground with a heavy thunk.

What had that man done? You weren’t shocked that executions were carried out here at the palace itself, but seeing it was another matter entirely.

Were you going to be next?

You had no stomach for the rest of your meal. You stood, fighting the urge to retch, and took off back to your room. Feeling numb, you hoped that you would not be summoned to attend to your husband in the evening. You weren’t sure you could take another fright in the same day. To distract yourself, you made notes on the story you had started the previous evening, in the case that you would need to provide a continuation. Your mind wandered, far from the confines of the palace walls, as you wove your tale.

Of course, right before you were about to begin your evening toilette, the same devil from the night before came to your room to escort you to Urizen once again. Various other demons came in and out of the palace during the day, but this one was the only one you had encountered at night, not counting the mannequin demons that cleaned and served in the kitchen.

In case this devil was going to remain as your chaperone, you deigned to ask him his name.

“I can’t really say, my lady. But you can call me Tony.”

You noted there was a strange, clipped quality to his words, as if some spell or physicality prevented him from uttering his name. Or maybe you imagined it because demons had different voices than humans. More than that, though—

“Tony?” you echoed. “That’s…” An unusual name for a demon, you were going to say. Much too… human. His face, too, was far more humanlike than the other demons you had encountered.

To your surprise, he chuckled. “A weird name? Sounds better than Urizen, I’d say.”

His nonchalant manner took you off guard. You hadn’t been expecting this at all.

“I only meant that I didn’t expect a devil to have such a normal sounding name,” you explained.

He shrugged. “It doesn’t need to be complicated. Just Tony is fine.”

Before you knew it, you were back again in the great hall, standing before the doors to the throne room. Tony walked ahead of you to open the doors and once again, you saw your husband.

You walked through the large room, one you surmised was the largest one in the entire palace, approaching your spouse. Tony remained outside.

You tried not to let the images from earlier that day distract you too much. The man’s cries. The blood seeping into the ground. The tree that moved by itself.

You nearly crumpled the notes in your hand.

“Wife,” Urizen said, in that deep, dark tone. There was no discernable expression on his obscured face, and none in his voice. You bowed before him and awaited his instruction.

“The tale from yesterday. Continue it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. As long as this remained all he asked of you, you would be okay, probably. Shuffling through your notes, you began to recite the rest of the story.

Again he offered neither comment nor interjection, or really any reaction at all, which you supposed was the best you could hope for at the moment. The plot you’d woven was fairly basic: the hero of this story was torn between his mission and the growing love between him and the lady who had rescued him, and while he was making to leave, the lady asked to accompany him. She wanted to help him, she said. He did not want to get her involved in his problems.

“This is not just about you!” said she. “I lost loved ones in that attack too. And who’s to say they won’t attack this town too—”

“I have a mission. It’s dangerous.”

“With them out there, everywhere is dangerous,” she said. “I am going whether you want me to or not.”

Cursing his mission for vengeance, she left him to seek a new home for her family.

“What a strange tale,” Urizen said.

“Wh-what?” This was the first time he’d spoken about the story itself. You couldn’t tell whether he meant the comment as a compliment, or as a sign he disliked it, and a shiver of panic rose in you.

“If that is all, you may go.”

You weren’t done, but you also didn’t want to go against his word.

“Then I shall resume tomorrow evening, my lord husband.”

He said nothing, only waving his hand in dismissal. You gathered up your notes, bowed hastily, and left the room.

You wondered—why did he decide to comment on the story now? Was there something about the tale he disliked? He had given no clue as to his feelings, as always. His expression had remained inscrutable and distant. Your hands clenched around your books and papers, frustrated.

Tony was nowhere to be found outside. Alone, you walked back to your room, returning to fitful sleep.

“So? What about it, V?”

There was a crow perched on the top of an armchair in the library, where a young man sat deep in thought.

“Think she’s the one?” the crow asked the young man.

“She has power, I can feel it,” he responded. In his hands he held a book, idly flipping through the pages.

“But what about—"

He interrupted the crow. “She’ll come back. I’ll speak with her then.”

“If you’re sure,” the crow said. “Y’know, I could always fly out there, get her to come if you can’t—”

“No need,” he responded. “What she needs is here. She’ll come back.”

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, SAY! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF RYUK.

Admin Jen: Say, I wish there were words to describe my joy over your application. Not only because you’re bringing us my beloved Pale Rider, but because of the beautiful way with which you captured them. There was so much to love about your app, but I have to admit that it was the para sample which stole my heart. Ryuk’s voice, his image of the other Horsemen and the way it bled into his dialogue throughout, the nuance in his perspective and the small tics in his mannerisms. It was all so vivid, so visceral, and so mesmerizing to take in. Although I absolutely cannot deny the impact of all the other sections in the app, which only served to amplify the portrayal and bring it to life in a way that left me so thrilled to leave Ryuk in your hands. I trust you with him completely, and I pray for the New World to bear their arrival. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER.

ALIAS | Say.

AGE | 25.

PERSONAL PRONOUNS | She/Her/Hers.

ACTIVITY LEVEL | Hopefully around 6/10! I check the dash basically every day for replies, but whether I get to them or not is a completely different story 🥴 Also, given that this is a highly literate roleplay, it may take me a tad longer to craft replies and post them, but I’m confident I can meet the 8 post/month minimum that you outline in your guidelines. 

TIMEZONE | EST / UTC-5.

TRIGGERS | REMOVED.

HOW DID YOU FIND THE GROUP? | A mutual of mine reblogged some of the first promo posts onto my dash. From then I’ve been following the group, and I finally got a chance to read through all of the lore / word-building you guys have done and I am super impressed.

CURRENT / PAST RP ACCOUNTS |

IN CHARACTER.

CHARACTER 

Ryuk.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER? 

I will admit that when I was first browsing, I had the worst choice paralysis because all of the biographies were compelling in their own way. The Angels and their pretentious morality, the Demons with their freewheeling madness, the Gifted toeing the line between mortal and divine, desperate to survive in a world with their powers… That being said, I kept on going back to Horsemen because of their remarkable existence across Caelum, Sanctus Terra, and Infernum. Not quite Angels or Demons, and far from mortal, I interpreted them to be the closest beings to God the world has, given that they were torn from the flesh of God Himself. 

This steadfast solidarity between Viktoria, Ryuk, Nerissa, and Dmitri really hit me square in the chest. Four distinctive beasts, hungry for bloodshed, are dropped into a world already ravaged by devastation at the hands of God’s own creations — so they take solace in each other, even broken from their original purpose. And yet, even amongst these four outliers, Ryuk stood out to me even more, because of their innate understanding of the ravaged world before him. While Nerissa raged for their stolen war, while Viktoria mourned their own creation in Purgatory, while Dmitri adjusted their child-like senses to their surroundings so starkly different whence they came, Ryuk intrinsically knew of their role on this plane of existence. 

I recognized the subtle intricacies woven into Ryuk’s biography, and wanted to challenge myself by writing a character whose desires, motives, and perception of the world is markedly unique from how I interpret my world. What sort of purpose could a Horseman have when stripped of their divine right and design? What do the immortals fear when they are bound with eternal life? What could Death himself fear, when they know the unknowable, and have the power to exact their purpose? 

All beings, regardless of their time on earth, fear death in some way. For divine beings, it is the possibility of their destruction through their infinite life, and for mortals, it is the inevitability of it that induces fear. But what about Death himself? Is it possible that they could be terrified of it as well? 

PLOTS.

DISCLAIMER: I illustrated a few points that rely on the development of other characters, most specifically the Horsemen, but it will all obviously rely on me working out the details with other players. 

I. A HUNGER FOR DEATH PROMISES A STARVATION OF LIFE — a division amongst a former whole.

We begin the story with the Horsemen being a single unit, working alongside each other in relative harmony, existing as mercenaries for the highest bidder. In a world teetering on the fragile truce between the Angels, Demons, and Mortals, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse walk alone, united in their understanding that they are unlike anything else walking the holy grounds. Without each other, they have nothing — so they remain close together out of deficit rather than benefit. However, in each of the Horsemen’s biographies, you’ve outlined a faint, yet irrefutable line dividing the four. As it stands, the division relies on recognition; Ryuk has always understood Nerissa and her cause more than he sympathizes with Nerissa or Dmitri. So what if that line became a crack? 

I’ve interpreted the current division to lie within the fundamental conflict of bloodlust vs. power, with Ryuk and Nerissa lying firmly in the former camp, though this would all be hammered out with the appropriate muns. But the interest lies within the Horsemen, and what would happen if their loyalties suffered an upset — who would they pledge their allegiance to? 

II. MONSTERS, WE ARE NOT SO UNALIKE, YOU AND I — an unlikely understanding.

This brings me into the next plot point, which involves Ryuk’s connections to the other factions.

Within my app, I sought to base much of Ryuk on what he is not — and their antithetical existence to Cade is something I played with deeply in this application. As hungry as they are for blood, there is a distinct lack of intention behind their killing, as if they inflict death because they are a Horseman. It is why the division is so crucial for Ryuk to begin to align themselves to a cause. A trap I don’t want to fall into while writing them is not giving them a fear to hold onto. I think the fascinating part about Ryuk is that they were birthed out of God’s terror of His unknown — and that is precisely what they fear the most. They feel safe and powerful when aligned with his fellow Horsemen, but without them, what do they know? 

The details of what would sweeten their attraction to any cause is something I want to keep open, rather than delineate extensively here, but the core of it is the same: to lower them down so that they may see the light in another’s faith. 

III. IN MY END IS MY BEGINNING — a touch of Death. 

And here, we end with a renewal of their perspective. Some sort of mortal injury happens that gives Ryuk a taste of their own medicine, perhaps in saving something they have truly learned to care about, as much as their dark heart will allow. 

Given that they fear losing their power and dominion over mortals, throwing them into a situation where they are possibly injured by one is a surefire way of allowing Ryuk to face what truly lies dormant underneath: what is their purpose? And why are they here and living, despite having their purpose erased so long ago with the death of their Creator? 

Perhaps this will finally give them a hunger for something more than just taking souls and money for it. 

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WITH KILLING OFF THIS CHARACTER?

As long as it serves a specific purpose for the long-term prospects of the group’s plot, 100% yes.

IN DEPTH.

DRIVING CHARACTER MOTIVATION 

I admit that this is the one of the parts of the application I struggled with, because for all intents and purposes, Death’s purpose has been ripped away from them. They, along with the other three Horsemen, were created for Earth’s apocalypse — but now that they’ve been thrown into the world without it, in some ways they are lost beyond comparison. 

Even so, Ryuk was still built to thirst for mortal blood at their hand, and as of now, that base instinct is what they actively rely on to move through the world. They are desperate and hungry for the souls they’ve been promised by God, and nothing more. 

And yet, I think they are also terrified of what it means to be stripped of their purpose. There’s this tentative resentment they hold for the world that no longer needs the Horsemen to wreak havoc, and yet, a terror that overtakes them when they think of fully relinquishing what they’ve been handed down from God. A fear of incompetence, the unknown, and the uselessness they feel is what drives Ryuk to continue to do what they’ve always known. After all, it’s easier to believe in a belief they’ve held close to their chest for so long. 

CHARACTER TRAITS 

( + ) RESOLUTE | Permanence: it is the one thing Ryuk knows to be true. Mortal blood expires, and nobody knows it better than the harbinger of Death himself. It is what makes them loyal, unwavering in their beliefs in their tar-black soul once he has made up their mind. ( + ) ASTUTE | It is impossible to be foolish when he has the ghosts of the past right at his fingertips; a history, laid before them like an open book. And what are first impressions, when they have the still-lingering souls to guide him along? Not much escapes their eyes or ears, and they use their gift well, for himself first, and for the Horsemen second. ( + ) VIGILANT | All that knowledge, always within reach — it would be a shame if they did not apply it well. Though he can be quick to react, it is rarely out of ineptitude or  undisciplined impulse; it is precisely the wealth of information he gleans that makes them all the more wary to enter into a situation without identifying the risks first. They are adamant on victory, not by anyone else’s terms but their own. ( – ) DUPLICITOUS | He has no qualms about trickery, or resorting to underhanded means to get their way. After all, what is integrity to a being that values Death above everything else? What is honor to a Horsemen without a future, when Death is the period, the endmark to every creature with a beating, bloody heart? ( – ) RUTHLESS | When Ryuk first learns of the word mercy from the spirits’ whispers, they can barely fathom the concept. Sparing another out of the benevolence of one’s heart? It’s practically laughable, given their own penchant for cruelty when faced with their victims. He is ( – ) PASSIONLESS | And one wonders: what could make such a merciless killer unflinching in the face of their purpose? Yes, they relish in every single kill, just as much as his compatriots, but in the end, he does it because it is all he knows. One cannot mistake the devotion they show for passion, the very fire that ignites the circle of life. No, Death will not and cannot be acquainted with life, no matter how many live souls they take for themselves.

PARA SAMPLE

“But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only.” — Matthew 24:36

From the beginning, at the very break of their conception at the hands of God, Ryuk is told they are the antithesis of emotion. It is an age-old story of the hero, their origin a simple blip in the vaporous, golden-god kingdom from which he is torn, cast into darkness until their path is clear — but Ryuk is not a hero. No, they are told that some day, they shall wreak havoc across the mortal realm that He has forged to collect their birthright of the damned souls roaming the earth. When? It’s insolence, a rare bit tumbling out for his Creator, He who has torn a part to make their whole.

You will know, and it is thunderous, the cadence of his voice, that even Death quivers, when the gates to the mortal realm opens. And then, they are thrown into their realm, devoid of anything but dust and half-formed souls. They know this, because the moment they’d slipped into the aphotic depths of His plan is the exact moment they hear their wails, deafening, ululating, even for their immortal senses. 

And oh, did they wail. Told stories of dominions and dirt, of princes and peasants, a swarm of the dead desperate for the ear of a God — or however close they could get to such a being. Time and time again, Ryuk would swat the cloud away, gaze always focused in the distance, where the dark smoke broke into a line of halcyon shimmer, and they’d ask Him ( pray, a soul whispers ) for their birthright, their infernal kingdom of souls. 

Ages pass. They hear nothing. They see nothing. The gilded line shrinks. But what is time for an immortal? Still, they hunger for the permanence of their existence; here, in this inchoate cavity of God’s creation, they are useless. The void is a steadiness of not quite death, but the absence of life — a temporary, an unhappy medium that they cannot satiate themselves on no matter how hard they strived. When? They think again, but He is long gone, in His heavens with His angels and His mortals He’d bore out of Love. 

In the ages to come, they will begin to understand this. Tales brushed in human concepts, of Love and Fear and Ecstasy and Hope, of those dominions and dirt, the princes and peasants. In the ages to come, they will see that the mortals flourish, souls rising to Heaven and Hell without their touch. They will see the expanse of God’s love for His children, in fractured pieces of the half-gone souls’ shrieks, wondrous at how He could destroy something He’d built from the sands of the lands. They will ask why did the mother forbid her to marry her lover? and the souls will answer, because she loved her daughter, a babe she’d birthed for nothing in return.

“For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places.” — Matthew 24:7

And what they mean to say is — no, they do not understand. How could God, in all his love for his mortal creations, bring their deliverance, Famine and War and Conquest and Death, upon the moral planes? What is their purpose aside to destroy what He has created? To understand the world is to hold it in one’s hands and inflict upon it an inconceivable love, of which they had none in their ichor-stricken heart. 

They resent God for this. They resent their purpose, and yet, they walk the earthly plains alongside their comrades, knowing that even God has succumbed — and so they hold their faith, deal their foreordained havoc in spades.

“For they are demonic spirits, performing signs, who go abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them for battle on the great day of God the Almighty.” — Revelation 16:14

“You must have mistaken me for a being of mercy, of which I am not.” Viktoria’s nostrils flare. Ryuk’s voice is low enough that the others do not catch the impertinent remark, the subtlest of digs on what she prized most. Within visible distance, Dmitri fiddles with a mortal contraption, one of the many gifts from his beautiful admirers, and far off, in the other direction, Nerissa sharpens her blade on a slick slab of quartz, eyeing her two comrades with a watchful eye.

Among them all, fallows, burnt yellow and unseemly, spread out across either side, an end distant and impossible. In this part of land, there is nothing but rainfall and smog, untraversed by even the most seasoned of travelers, which, of course, had made it ideal for the likes of the Horsemen. Nothing but tar black clouds roamed the sky, save for the sliver of white in the horizon, a marker of Caelum to the North. The line glows, and Ryuk is briefly struck by the likeness of their environment to the emptiness from which they came. If they listen diligently enough, the winds almost mimic the agonized shrieks of undamned souls, and it completes the resemblance, far too uncanny for their liking. He shifts on his feet, left and right, and tugs on his ear. A cue, he’d learned, then committed to muscle memory, to ward away the spirits when they were not needed. 

“And as always, you have failed to listen. And they say you can hear the spirits with those ears?”

It is Ryuk, this time, that prickles under the weight of the insult. Viktoria, as always, has fashioned herself as the brains of their expeditions, always pointing out their next destination. He cannot blame her; of the quad, they all know she is the weakest, but her passion for their good fate flares stronger than his own. Viktoria, always the one hungering for something more. A desire for a bite of the heavens whence they came. 

To each their own, they suppose. 

“I have provided all of us with good information, have I not? Saved our good health, if I remember correctly,  more times than I desire to count.” Their sharp glare meets the other’s steel-bit fire, and she huffs. 

“And what are your qualms of this plan? Do you plan to serve this diseased Tridium for our eternity?”

Besides him, the souls begin to howl. Cry out, they will hunt and kill you, they have weaponry, blessed by the something dark and holy, and yet, another faction beckons, they are no match for the Apocalypse, they are not as strong as you believe —

“What is it?”

They snap out of their trance. In the centuries they have known each other, they have all learned each other’s behaviors like their own kin. Like the flicker in Nerissa’s jaw when she lusts for blood, the fondness glimmering in Dmitri’s eye when he spies a mortal he desires. They’ve all seen the half-slack stupor Ryuk undergoes when he channels the voices of the dead, most of all Viktoria, but he brushes her away, throat cleared with a rumble. 

“Nothing. They caution us against it.”

“And?” 

The sinew in their neck tenses. “And there is nothing else. We all know that some mortals are still gifted. They hold the power to our demise as much as we for theirs.” 

Viktoria scoffs. It is clear, in her stance, from her gaze, that she does not believe he is giving her the entire truth. “We will need more than that if we are to carry through with it; perhaps, they can tell us the size of their armory, or perhaps how it could be of use to us...“ Eyes averted, she begins to pace a small distance. They can already see the cogs turn in their brain, assembling their scheme for an upset of power across the lands. 

“And who has agreed to carry through with this design? Dmitri?” 

They look up. Viktoria, who’d been addressed; Dmitri, who’d believed they'd been summoned; Nerissa, who’d smelled the whiff of conflict. The lines, there are always the lines. Viktoria with Dmitri, himself with Nerissa. Left unsaid, but voice did not negate the fact that the line is a truth, hanging amongst them like an errant thread, impossible to sever even with the sharpest of blades. “You don’t believe we can do it?” 

They stare, unflinching against her black gaze, because for all that they lack with their deadened atrophy and rot, they fill themselves with the faith that there will always be more souls to take. They do not prescribe themselves to a greater fate other than the one that has been given to them, from God, their Creator. What use do they have of power, when they had all that they required in the present? 

“If we take this job, do this favor for this mortal, we will secure an ear in the ranks — a cousin of a member of the Round Table, and we can use leverage, to raise our status, to find these heavenly instruments to mine for crystallis —” 

“Of which he has none, Viktoria, in case you have forgotten!” 

From the corner of their eye, they see Dmitri flinch, Nerissa cease her movements to sharpen her blade. They are always like this, vying for a position that neither of them particularly desire, but ages have passed since they’ve come to terms with their uncertain fate. They’d been dropped amongst mortals and divinity alike, across barren lands and built cities, alone in their status as creatures of God, literal in every sense of the word. He had torn them, the four of them, from His own celestial body, had He not? 

They are quiet again. 

Mere mortals would have raged, now Ryuk knows this. It is the security of more that protects (or rather, exposes) the others to wars, seething with blood and blades, to the black certainty of hatred that infected the strength of their ranks, susceptible and raw. Their net, of course, had perished along with the annihilated remains of God’s and Lucifer’s immortal bodies. They had nobody, and would have nobody else, until the end of time. 

Perhaps they all realize this, sheepish expressions flitting across their eyes, the sunken hollows of their cheeks. Jagged as they are in countenance and disposition, Ryuk has realized they have gone too far in their words. His head hangs an inch lower, shoulders hunched in sour defeat. It is all that they need for the mood to lift. Viktoria nods, and they mount their horses, in implicit agreement that they would defer the conversation for another time. 

They scan the fields. It is still sunken, stinking of something burnt yet still living, sodden with the foul scent of mortal dirt. The gales have only reinforced their vigor, screeching through the vast space, washing away their bitter anguish — but the winds are just that, the earlier parallel lost, if only because they had three others by their side. They have survived the fire, and they will survive, untouched, riding their noble steeds into the winds, not separate, but as one.

[prettywordsyouleft]

More Than A Lifetime

Prompt: #191 for anon – “Why won’t they wake up?”

Anonymous said:

Hi! I’m here to help you finish your Drabble game! I love your writing! Would you feel comfortable writing the prompt “why won’t they wake up?” For Shownu of Monsta X?? Maybe some angst with a happy ending?? It’s totally ok of you don’t want to! Thank you for your time!! 💜💜💜💜

Pairing: Son Hyunwoo x reader

Genre: vampire au / angst / fluff

Warnings: mentioning of death

Word count: 1481

Glancing at the bodies before him and then back at his friend, Hyunwoo frowned. It wasn’t a situation he wanted to have a part in, and yet, he had been the one to cause such an unneeded ruckus in the first place. Guilt licked at his very existence, irking him further and he left out a frustrated breath, thrusting a hand exasperatedly at the pair seemingly in an endless slumber. “Why won’t they wake up?”

“Some transitions take time,” Hoseok murmured. However, Hyunwoo could tell the doctor beside him was as perplexed as he was. “Maybe because they were on the brink of death with their disease when you saved them-”

“Did I really save them?” Hyunwoo cut in softly, his dark eyes regarding you in particular. Your skin had been just as pallid when he met you, passing in and out of consciousness in your delirium. It had been your sister who had done the pleading for you both, holding your slumping body up despite the immense strain it was causing her to do so.

He had pitied you both but not enough to take your lives initially. Turning away, he had gone to step off when you had stumbled into his back, resting against him, chanting how cold he was to the touch. Perhaps it was your warmth, something he hadn’t had the ability to feel in decades, or the fact that your fragile heart had echoed in his mind. Hyunwoo’s resolve had broken and he had claimed your life, along with your sister’s.

Letting out an indignant scoff, Hyunwoo shook his head, answering his own question. “How is this any better than death? Being immortal is not a life one would want to have. I should have let them die. Maybe they will not make it through the change. I can only hope they find peace wherever they may be.”

Despite his statement, Hyunwoo checked in the infirmary for the following four days. On the fifth, he was stunned to find you sitting up in the bed, your back facing him. Rushing forward, he rounded the bed and stopped short when you snapped your focus towards his, narrowing your eyes immediately. He could see the changes; the colour of your eyes was once natural unlike the crimson they appeared as now. Your canines peeked out from your mouth when it fell open, and a cool breath expelled from you.

You had become a vampire after all. And Hyunwoo couldn’t help but feel taken back by how beautiful you were now with your strength returned.

However, you didn’t seem appreciative at all. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t-”

“Fragments of your life plagued me whilst I laid here. Instead of a peaceful death, I saw nothing but bloodlust and destruction and-”

“You begged me,” he confirmed, folding his arms over his chest. “You clung to me and asked for my help. You’re not the only one who regrets such a situation.”

Opening your mouth, you changed your thought process, soon becoming thin-lipped with your frustration. The feeling was mutual, Hyunwoo wondering why he had even been excited to see you sit up. Glancing away from you, he watched the body in the bed next to yours begin to move.

“Your sister awakens. I shall leave you to your damnation together,” he announced, stalking away from your side and all the way to the study.

Closing the door with more force than necessary, Hyunwoo moved to his desk, gripping onto the table’s edge. “Why did I even bother?!”

“Because you once had a heart,” a voice replied, and the other vampire in the room smiled at him. Getting up, Jooheon approached Hyunwoo. “It doesn’t matter how long ago it stopped, you do it every time because you can’t bear to watch people suffer in their last breath.”

“Perhaps I should. She saw it as nothing but bloodlust! I’m insulted.”

Jooheon smirked. “You’re feeling again, brother.”

“It would be better that I didn’t,” Hyunwoo remarked, though he blinked slowly at Jooheon’s observation, a hand slipping to his chest. His heart laid dormant and yet, Hyunwoo was certain he felt the flicker of something.

A month passed and you had grown accustomed to your new existence. Your sister, Callie, had taken immediately to life as she saw it, her smiles encouraging warmth into the coven that had been missing for some time. Her laughter was also a stark contrast to your quietness, and when Hyunwoo entered the library, he paused when he noticed you reading over by the window.

You afforded him no greeting, your attention barely lifting from the book before you. However, when he sat down on the opposite end of the large bay window and closed his eyes as he got comfortable, you snapped your book shut swiftly. “Must you?”

“I have no interest in bothering you, Y/N. I merely am here for the afternoon sun.”

“Your mere presence is a bother to me,” you admitted and Hyunwoo smiled lazily in response. You let out a huff of air, though made no effort to depart his company either. Hyunwoo’s smile continued to grow. “Why here of all places?”

“The same reason you come to this spot as often as you do,” he told you, folding his arms loosely over his chest. “It’s the best place for the afternoon sun.”

“How did…” Trailing off, you soon fell silent and Hyunwoo peeked through one of his eyes at you. Your attention was out of the window now and he slowly opened his eyes properly, soaking you in much like he had come to re-energise in the natural warmth from outside.

He couldn’t stop the attraction he felt towards you even if you had condemned him for all he had done. Hyunwoo was captivated by the smallest details, and when you blinked, he watched as the lashes brushed over your skin before you turned to look at him. He had been certain you would have some sort of remark at his staring. Instead, you did the same back, watching him for what felt like a short eternity. It wasn’t until the sun dipped and the moon rose that he realised just how long you had been looking at one another for. Affected, he sat up suddenly, tumbling off the ledge and falling onto his hands and knees in the process.

You giggled.

Snapping his focus back to yours, it was the first time he’d seen you show any amusement within these walls. Watching the joy fill your face had been a poor decision on his behalf because it made you insatiable to Hyunwoo, his reflexes careening him back to your side, mere inches from your face.

You smiled warmly. “Why did you stop there? Isn’t it in your desires right now to take me?”

“All you see is bloodlust within me,” he reminded in a whisper, your hands reaching out to cup his face. Hyunwoo couldn’t stop his gasp with your connection to his face, nor did he refrain from nuzzling into your touch.

“You have always been the comfort I craved,” you confessed with a voice not much louder than he had been. “In death and now in… whatever I can call this.”

“Existence,” he offered and you nodded.

“It took me some time, and a few conversations with your brother to understand you. I shouldn’t have been so rude in the beginning.”

“I don’t blame you for being that way. This isn’t a life I wish upon anyone.”

“Yet you took mine anyway?”

He nodded. “Your touch back then urged me on.”

“Is it doing anything to you now?” you wondered and Hyunwoo moved through the remaining distance between you, kissing you passionately, hungrily. It had been too long since he had felt the caress of a woman, your moans and contented sighs eliciting further desire within him. As Hyunwoo laid you down upon the window’s ledge beneath him, you stopped him, clinging to him instead of continuing the heated moment. “Will you ever take another life like mine and claim her like you are about to with me?”

He shook his head adamantly. “I have never been compelled to claim anyone as my own.”

“Not even me?”

“I don’t hold ownership over you, nor if I lay with you right now, does it make you mine forever. Contrary to what is written about vampires, I don’t wish to covet anyone.”

You tilted your head. “Is that so?”

“However, I would like it very much if you remained at my side,” he concluded earnestly and you smiled with relief. Hyunwoo chuckled. “You seemed worried for a moment there.”

“Of course. I don’t want your temporary comfort, but a lifetime of it.”

Hyunwoo smiled again, kissing you affectionately. “Well, fortunately for you we have more than a lifetime together. I hope my comfort continues to be all you ever need.”

_________________

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[dumbsnakefan]

Thou Shalt Love

Chapter 2: In You I Take Refuge

A/N: This took longer than expected but here it is! Also, if you want me to tag you in the next chapter please let me know!

Hidden away in a small Inn in a town surrounded by only nature, Nea watched over Allen’s prone figure. A thin layer of sweat covered his nephew’s body from exertion. His mind still tried to fight the inevitable of his awakening. Well, Nea supposed that Allen was too stubborn to ever give in so easily. Not that it wouldn’t make a difference in the end. The Noah memories were like an unrestrained storm as they tore into the brain.

Letting out an aggravated sigh Nea said to himself, “Why did that bastard Cross have to die on me like that? He always manages to piss me off.” His eye twitched as he remembered the debts the man had hoisted upon his former host. Despite all his hatred for the General there were too many questions left unanswered. From what Timcanpy had shown him Allen had forgotten everything. What’s more, he had gotten younger. It was like trying to put together a puzzle without most of the pieces.

Had Cross not had answers for that at least Nea could have used his magical skills. That four eyed idiot had done something strange and outside his own abilities. As best he could figure, however, their “separation” hadn’t accounted for the Noah gene. He could laugh if not for the absolute mess of it all.

There was something strange about this memory as well. It was like none of the others as far as he could tell. Allen’s inner Noah was swaddling him in a thorny embrace, like a babe in need of protection. Compared to his own, a destructive thing that had him clawing at his skin in agony, it was soft. Nea felt an urge to pull his nephew close and never let go again. The strangeness of Allen’s memory was oddly fitting.

Lacking any new information to dissect Nea could only move on to other things. Specifically how the Noah family would react to this. Like Nea they had to have felt the surge of a new memory breaking into the world. They would want to pull him away from the dreaded 14th as soon as they could, lest he “corrupt” their new brother. A smile stretched across Nea’s lips as he swore to keep his dearest friend by his side.

What a family reunion they’d be having. If Mana had any real sanity left Nea would have liked to share one last tender moment before the end. Fate and that detestable God were not so kind as to give any Noah such a merciful gift though. They would forever seek to destroy them for being in the way. Should Nea succeed he would put an end to their farce. His brother would be freed at long last.

Keeping Allen far away from this whole affair was very important. The attachment he’d formed with Mana could turn into a crushing weight when the truth was revealed. Those bonds of father and son were already so entangled with tragedy; Nea wouldn’t let another disaster play out. Mana’s insanity could drag them all down if left unchecked.

From what Timcanpy had shown of Allen’s time as Red, his brother had been attached at the hip with him. Nea knew that he’d forgotten it all just by the way he treated his nephew. That didn’t mean that Mana wasn’t drawn to him, oh no. Even when not a wisp of Nea’s presence had been visible the Earl had targeted Allen. Drawn like a moth to a flame, they circled each other. Now under the calming lull of the Noah memory inside Allen Mana would chase him wholeheartedly.

Then there was the other Noah to consider. Road and Joyd seemed to have the strongest bond with Allen of the family. While the others weren’t as close, they all appeared interested when interacting with him. Being a true part of the family could only grow their connection. It made Nea sick just thinking about it. The need to keep Allen close and out of their grubby hands echoed from his own Noah.

Wasn’t keeping Allen by his side the best way to make sure he was safe? Those disgusting roaches that scuttled about the Order were still searching for Allen. Nea had seen how easily they had hurt their beloved comrade. All throughout the past Timcanpy had shown Nea there had been pain. His nephew’s past was a constant spiral of suffering. Taking him away from the world that was so ready to tear him apart could only be a kindness.

Tension had built to a boiling point in Nea’s body and he forced himself to release it. In an attempt to calm down he scouted closer to the bed. A new bead of blood pooled along Allen’s stigmata that Nea wiped away. Unconsciously he pushed into the contact. Warmth bloomed in Nea’s chest. Seeing his dearest friend like this, utterly peaceful, was something he’d truly missed.

His senses registered the Noah memory shift from it’s dormant state and Nea braced for another wave of pain. More blood flowed down from Allen’s forehead as he became restless. The once lax expression of sleep twisted in pain. That’s when the screaming started, scratching Allen’s throat raw. It was hard not to wince at the sheer volume of his screams.

As the screams faded out Nea felt a new presence join them. Annoyed and reluctant to leave Allen’s side Nea turns to face the intruder. Standing before him is the Demon Eye, expression a mask of indifference. Rage so obviously simmers behind the facade but Nea finds it as threatening as a wet kitten.

His smile is packed full of malice as he says, “Didn’t know they’d let you come alone to see me kid.” The twitch of annoyance from Wisely’s reincarnation is so sweet. “You’d think with how easily I killed you last time you would all be a bit more careful.” Bloodlust oozes off Nea in waves, making the air thick with it.

Only when Allen’s scream rise back up does he stop. Nea is so tempted to return to his side to comfort him. The possibility of an attack is what holds him back. Wisely would be more than happy to slit his throat and take Allen away for good; or at least attempt to. There was no way Nea would give him that kind of opening.

“Would it kill you to be nicer, dearest 14th? I’m here to give you some friendly advice after all.” The moniker has Nea gnashing his teeth. He knows that smug bastard is enjoying himself. What an asshole.

Tilting his head Wisely says, “Like you’re one to talk. You really hold the title of world's biggest asshole.” Of course the little creep was reading his mind. Even in his new life Wisely refused to learn what privacy means.

Moving closer to the other Noah, Nea glares down with cold eyes. “Cut this bullshit and tell me why you’re really here.”

“We won’t let you keep him from us.” The brat dares to step closer to Allen and Nea watches him like a hawk for a single misstep. “You can’t hide no matter how hard you try. Someday soon we’ll bring our brother home, where he belongs.”

Something in Nea snaps. Anger grips his heart like a vice. Unwilling and unable to hold back, he shoots towards Wisely. His hand wraps around the bastard's neck. Blood drips from where his fingernails bite into WIsely’s skin as Nea squeezes his windpipe. The choked panic gives him no satisfaction. Painting the walls red with his blood is what he needs now.

His grip tightens, drawing a wheeze from the pathetic Noah. “He’s mine. Allen is mine.” Nea says with unhinged glee. “You can never take him from me. I’ll kill every single one of you if you try.”

It’s only when a burst of stabbing pain sweeps over Nea’s mind that he returns to reality. He let’s go reluctantly, Wisely falling at his feet. Such a shame he couldn’t kill him, but Nea is patient. Now is not the right time to crush Wisely beneath his foot. Later he’ll make sure to make his end painful.

Between satisfying coughing fits Wisely manages to bite out, “Ru-Road said to, guh, give you a warning for old t-times sake.” The venom behind the glare he gives Nea is almost impressive. “Shouldn’t have listened to her. You deserve to watch as your world crumbles around you and you fail.” It makes him laugh, the thought that Nea would lose to the likes of him.

Wisely’s face twists up in amusement. Nea keeps himself in check as he moves towards Allen. Fighting this close to Allen could only end in disaster. Even as the rat bastard patted his nephew’s head he held back. Truly, his restraint was worthy of the highest praise.

“I can’t wait to see what our new brother is capable of. He was already such an interesting human...” The little shit was lost in his own mind as he brushed hair off Allen’s forehead. It’s a herculean effort on Nea’s behalf to stay his hand. Perhaps killing him was worth the risk after all?

However, what Wisley said next stopped him dead in his tracks. “I do wonder why the Earl is already so attached to Allen?” What? No, this can’t possibly be happening; it’s too early. “I knew that you’d have answers. There’s something slipping just outside my reach, no matter how hard I search.”

Desperately Nea snaps his mind shut to leave only unrelated drivel in its wake. He needs to throw the Demon Eye Noah off his scent. Now. “Why don’t you ask Mana yourself?” The wince he gets is a good sign. Raising his voice and stepping into Wisley’s space Nea tells him, “Now get out of my sight.”

Gold meets gold as they assess each other for weakness. Finding nothing, Wisley moves to finally leave them be. With every step Nea feels better. On the threshold of the door, however, he turns back. Body going tense Nea prepares for whatever the creep plans to throw his way next.

“Before I go, you might want to find a new hiding place. There are some Akuma out there who aren’t very good a t playing nice.” An Explosion rocks the building, punctuating his statement. The string of curses that Nea lets out would have a sailor blushing. “Hope you enjoy yourself 14th!” His smug face watches on as Nea fumbles for their things. The Ark gate behind him swallows Wisely up but Nea pays it no mind.

Screams fill the air in a terrible crescendo of horror. With Allen out of commision Nea can only run. Scooping up his struggling nephew Nea makes sure Tim grabs their luggage. Ignoring the town below he calls up his own gate and the three disappear from sight. The humans left behind in that remote town are mowed down with mercy. Chaos creeps around every corner and the scent of blood blankets the air in a red mist. No one will discover the scene of pure carnage until weeks later.

[ichor-hunter]

Blood Veils

“Equipment developed to provide protection and efficiently drain the blood of opponents in battle. Incorporating the user’s blood improves its defensive qualities, and blood absorbed from foes is purified and delivered internally.”

Blood Veils are armour and it also functions as a weapon for draining blood. There are four kinds of Blood Veils in the game:

Ogre-type

Stinger-type

Hounds-type

Ivy-type

Before we expand on these different Veils, let’s try to understand how they work. Each Veil depending on the type is different in its own way, but the one thing that remains the same is how they are made. As you can see with a few of the Blood Veils, you may see some wired cords either connecting to the blood of a Revenant or it’s supplying a Revenant’s blood in a separate slot like purifier masks (For example, the other Veils such as Stinger, Hounds and Ivy could hold the Revenant’s blood in a separate compartment because of how it was designed). There’s also some muscle like tissue embedded into the Veil, although whether it’s based on a by-product of BOR parasites or materials used to make the Veil is still vague to me. This is how it is for the Ogre-type Veil:

The drain attack transforms that very arm into a claw and drains the opponent of their blood/ichor. From the image above, you see there are cords showcasing the blood of the user in them along with how it connects with the arm that’s used for drain attacks. Since we use different metals that contains blood from the Queen, the Blood Veils are interlaced with BOR parasites. These metals also contribute to the infrastructure of a veil since we see parts of metal and gears (eg.the hounds veils show a gear mechanism) and it’s thanks to the Queen’s blood contained in these metals. The metals were probably very flexible and manipulative since Revenants use them with their weaponry and other things. “Some revenants tried to grind down the material in hopes of becoming rich, but were left with useless dust.”-Queen Steel. From the description alone, these precious minerals were highly valued because of the versatility of it. With BOR Parasites within the Veil, they come to life when initiating a drain attack or a successful parry.

As you can see via the image above, small particles emanate from the veil when it’s being launched and retracted. It’s just like Revenants dispersing in battle or teleporting to a mistle. With BOR parasites incorporated into the Veil, BOR parasites crave for blood (and they’ll get their blood via drain attack) however since their host is an inanimate object, BOR parasites can only feed off blood through a third party since it can’t control the organs or be active in an inanimate object. Only when the BOR parasite detects a Revenant’s blood through the Veil, it will activate. If it doesn’t sense or intake any blood, it remains dormant.

With the Blades/Claws incorporated into a Veil, it’s most likely based on the metals we use to upgrade the veils. With strong metal types such as Queen Steel to Queen Tungsten, these blades become sharper and stronger.

Ogre type veils have their drain weapon imbedded on a Revenant’s right arm.

Stinger type veils comes from the large stinger on the back of their blood veil.

Hound type veils is incorporated in both of a veil’s sleeves. (And that’s why a Revenant would wear it as a cape rather than putting their arms through the sleeves).

Ivy type veils come from the scarves of the veil.

My hypothesis that the BOR parasite’s physical drain form depends on how the Blood Veil is designed like how there are different species of the Lost. For example, the Hounds veil takes on that form due to having the Revenants blood and the blades designed within the sleeves of the Veil. It turns into the hounds due to the lore behind it.

There’s also an instance when a Revenant charges their drain attack/achieve a successful parry and their purifier mask changes. I find this is connected to the veil rather than the purifier masks by itself. (Now that I’ve obtained the artbook and seen the designs, this has been disproven but I’ll still leave the description I’ve already written until I do a purifier masks post).  More wires appear from the veil, embeds themselves within the mask and transforms it into a different form, which causes the Revenant’s eyes to turn red as if they’re going through bloodlust/bloodthirst. My assumption is through their charge attack, the Revenant would take in more blood, and the mask transforms to fortify their initial mask.

Blood Veils drain blood from an opponent. I’m going to guess that a Revenant would drain blood directly from the opponent, the mask has to change to compensate the draining process. Since the blood is contaminated before the purification process, Purifier/Drain Masks helps to prevent bloodthirst and going into a frenzy from taking in blood before it’s purified. The change of the mask makes it less likely for a Revenant to go into a frenzy/turning into the Lost by directly draining the Lost’s blood. (Is my poor guess here really.)

Ogre-Type Blood Veils

The Ogre-Type is a one-handed claw attack. It’s for those who are right-handed. The term Ogre originated from the French language while the source of the word Ogre is based from the Etruscan god Orcus who is the a God of the Underworld (In similar standing with Hades but through different Mythology). Orcus was known to feast on human flesh, so it’s a reference from his particular lore. Also, ogre’s in general are considered monsters/demons in various cultures.

Stinger-Type Blood Veils

The Stinger-Type veil is a retractable large stinger camouflaged within a Revenant’s Blood Veil. It’s likely linked with a scorpion stinger as there are scorpions featured in Greek Mythology. The origin of the Greek tales lies with the death of Orion, who was killed by a scorpion sent by Gaia after Apollo was jealous of Orion being close with Artemis. Ironically, Mia uses this type of Blood Veil as her Blood Code is based off from Artemis.

Hounds-Type Blood Veils

The Hounds-type veil feature two large hounds that transform from the sleeves of a blood veil to devour and drain blood. This Blood Veil is easily based on Cerberus (no not the Provisional Government) from Greek Mythology. Cerberus is a multi-head dog which is also known as the hounds of Hades. Normally you see Cerberus with 3 heads right? And you wonder why there’s only two that comes out from the Veil? Because the Revenant is considered the third head of the beast itself. It makes sense through careful observation, the two heads drains while the third head (which would be the Revenant) would launch their attack/intake the blood. Either or works for this Blood Veil.

Ivy-Type Blood Veils

The Ivy-Type veil involves two long scarves on the back of the Veil. When they’re launched into the ground, the scarves become a bed of blades sprouting from the ground. While charging your Ivy drain attack, you can move the swirl of black mist location at long-ranged targets. This Blood Veil is based on the Greek God Dionysus who is known for wine, vegetation and others. He is seen with a crown of Ivy, and it matches with the crown that appears on a Revenants head when using the Veil. The blades coming up from the ground relates to Dionysus rule over vegetation.

This post may be expanded in the future based on DLC and discussion posts.