#void's immortal musings | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mihyasliebendermann · 3 months ago

Text

𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗! 𝖕𝖙. 2

guys i might make vampire kaiser a series yall dont know hm i love vampires and kaiser

"You're quite lucky I have taken a liking to you."

The words slither into your ear, velvet and venom all at once, a whisper from the abyss. The grip around your throat tightens with deliberate cruelty, the fingers cold as the grave, yet burning like embers pressed against fragile flesh. Your pulse flutters beneath his hand, struggling against the vise of undeath.

"Although I think I am not yet done with you," the Duke purrs, his voice a slow, syrupy drawl, the cadence of a predator savoring the moment before the feast. His breath is unnervingly cool, tinged with something sweet and metallic, like the scent of crushed roses steeped in blood. His fingers trace the delicate curve of your neck before his palm captures your jaw, tilting your face upward, forcing you to meet his gaze.

His beauty is terrible to behold—something otherworldly, a painting of a prince long forgotten, immortalized in oil and bone-white splendor. But here he stands, glistening in the dim glow, and his features twist into something cruel, something sinister. The flickering candlelight catches the sharpness of his cheekbones, the near-translucent pallor of his skin, the darkness pooling in his eyes like ink spilled across parchment.

"What am I?"

The question lingers in the air, deceptively soft, yet laced with an unspoken threat. And the way he says "what" instead of "who" simply confirms all your fears.

Your lips part, but fear clasps around your throat tighter than his hand ever could. You want to answer, to fight, to run—but your limbs feel leaden, as if the very essence of your being has already begun to unravel beneath his gaze.

"Hmm?" he hums, tilting his head, a teasing lilt in his voice, his patience stretching as thin as the space between your lips and his.

"Y-You aren't human," you finally stammer, the words barely more than a strangled whisper. Your throat tightens further as your own voice betrays you. "You're a monster!"

A slow smile curls across his lips, his fangs glinting like twin daggers in the dim light.

"Atta girl," he murmurs approvingly before— Faster than your mind can register— You are beneath him.

The air is driven from your lungs as your back meets the mattress, his presence a shadow draped over you. You can’t see him—not fully—not yet. But you can feel him. Everywhere. His hands, cold yet burning, tracing the contours of your waist, gliding upward, curling around your throat once more.

"But I'd like it better," he muses, his lips grazing your ear, "if you were more... specific."

His breath ghosts across your skin, and then— The sharpest hint of fangs brushes against your pulse.

A shudder wracks through your body, not entirely from fear, though the terror coils tight in your belly like a serpent poised to strike. No, there is something else—something dark and twisted, something that should not exist within you but does.

"You're a vampire," you whisper, the realization falling from your lips like a confession, a prayer, a curse.

A chuckle rumbles from deep within his chest, rich, decadent, intoxicating. The sound alone makes you tremble.

And then, pain.

His teeth sink just enough into your flesh to draw a gasp from your lips but not blood—not yet. A warning. A promise.

"That's my girl," he purrs, his grip tightening, his body pressing yours deeper into the bed. The pressure is suffocating, but you can’t bring yourself to resist.

He looms over you, a vision of exquisite horror, his white button-down hanging loose around his collarbone, the stark contrast of his ivory skin against the black void of his pupils.

And those fangs.

God, those fangs.

You shiver, dread crawling up your spine as the realization sets in—he has done this before. Countless times. The blood on his lips, unseen but known, whispers of past lovers, past victims, past lives stolen away in the dead of night.

You can’t breathe.

You can’t move.

You don’t want to.

"Easy there," he cooes, his tone mockingly tender, his hands steady as they keep you exactly where he wants you—beneath him, within his grasp, at his mercy.

His head dips lower, and your heartbeat stutters violently, only to slow—unbearably slow—as he does nothing more than inhale your scent.

"Why me?" you choke out, a fragile sob, your voice barely more than a breath.

He does not answer at first. Instead, he studies you, his gaze as sharp as the fangs that have yet to pierce deeper. And then—

"Because you're special."

A pause. A correction.

"Your blood is."

The words cut deeper than any blade, more brutal than his touch. A tear spills, trailing hot down your cheek.

And he only smiles.

"Now, shut up, and let me take care of you," he growls, his voice finally baring the hunger he has so masterfully concealed until now.

"Wait—"

A thousand bolts of lightning tear through you, each one more searing than the last. The pain is consuming, white-hot, unbearable. You swear you are being ripped apart from the inside out, burned and frozen, shattered and remade all at once. Then came euphoria. Pain gave way to pleasure, a feeling so good it was impossible to say it came from a vampire lapping at your blood. Your body went limp, unable to fight back, and even if you could, you wouldn't, for you wanted more.

#bllk kaiser #kaiser #michael kaiser #blue lock #vampire kaiser #vampire #vampire aesthetic

27 notes · View notes

currentlyinlaudnastiddies · 6 months ago

Text

Another year passed...a new one begun. I wonder...why i put up with it all? Its tiring on occasion...

She sighs as she gazes out of the window into the starry void, her eyepatch is removed- she was dressed rsther comfy today. Absentminded, she fidgets with a rose brooch-a gift from lorelei, despite the painful memories she doesent have the heart to throw it away. Shes melancholy, when it was her and her children, it was never dull or silent. It was busy and it usually kept her from falling into a depressive episode. She knew shed snap out of it eventually, but eight now..especially since scuzz was god knows where-they needed their space-and the ship wasnt semtinent, she was alone.

I wonder if Jonny blows up a planet like he usually does...its his version of a firework. Maybe he watches it with all of them..i wish id be there....maybe i should send a message, but i dont know if they would even read it, for all i know they either not care or despise me....

She muses on this, trying to keep herself from crying, shes done with crying, she thinks, it annoys and exhausts her. Then the door chines and slides open, and a relstively small figure walks in, carefully. Its alice, the nurse that was with Jonny & Tim in the moonwar. Her hair is shoulder lengh by now and she looks a it more heslthy than she did when dr. Carmilla picked her up and immortalized her. She still wears a cloak over her old, blood stained nurse uniform-she reufses to wash it, as it holds memories for her. "Jonny hugged me in this" she explained once, she and jonny had smth going on during the moonwar, but both were too proud/cowardly to openly admit their feelings. Well, alice goes over to Carmilla, and says: "Happy new year, mom." She doesent speak much usually, so thats a surprise. Them, she hugs dr carmilla, and chooses to sit beside her, cradling a octokitten in her lap, enjoying its purrs.

...happy new year to you too, daughter. I am glad your veins arent acting up so far, it was quite difficult making them....

She knows that she is rambling, but she smiles as Alice gives her silent company. Oh how she wishes scuzz was here!

...maybe jonny calls...i dont know why he would do that, but....hes a good son you know? Despite not believing that himself....

[Ooc" @captain-dville i hope thst the tag is alright, u trued to go abit into drmamatics style- also alice is a oc of mine, i hoep you dint mind thst either- i am VERY happy to rewrite this if ya dont like it

[ @askscuzznishimura

#dr carmilla rp #open replies #other mechs rp accounts pls respond

41 notes · View notes

qin-qin16 · 7 months ago

Text

[Subtle carrion trio but its majority Reaper x Crow (birdtale sans), Dust is only mentioned, fluff because my liege is allergic to it, implied bird court (of course), some inspiration from here]

It was selfish to walk through a place so alive, like this vast, green field, teeming with insects and small animals. And there he was, leaving behind traces with his deadly footprints— a line of oval pairs, each larger than his bare feet, devoid of any grass that once filled the space he crossed. Now, only patches of infertile, dark, dead earth trailed after him.

For a moment, the entity halted—the ground beneath his feet slightly sinking, dying with his innocent touch. He laughs deeply, seeming to find amusement in the faint rustling of wings that echoed behind his figure.

"Oh? How interesting," Reaper smiled beneath his hood, his bony lips curling across his face as the sound of footsteps grew closer, "I wasn't expecting a visit from one of my little birds." He hummed, finally turning to face his guest.

A skeleton, like him; shorter, with broader bones, and a beautiful pair of black wings decorating his back. And two eye sockets staring back at him, with small white dots, slightly dilated by his presence. Reaper couldn’t help but let out another chuckle.

"To what do I owe the honor of your unexpected visit, little bird?" His fingers lightly brushed his own mouth, gliding over his nonexistent lips as he awaited a response; he was patient, especially with his beautiful messengers.

Sans, Crow, as the god liked to call him, let his gaze drop to the ground — shy, trembling in front of the figure before him. His wings fluttered anxiously, and his hands slipped back into the pockets of his fluffy coat. Even though he wasn't the type of god to feel emotions, Reaper could still see how unsettled his little bird was. The reason? Only his messenger could explain.

Crow kept his head lowered, one hand fidgeting restlessly inside his pocket. Finally, after a forced cough, the monster began to speak.

"Apologies for interrupting your stroll, Host of Many..." His eyes briefly lifted, searching for the empty voids of Reaper’s gaze, only to be lost in the darkness within his hood. "I’ve come to deliver... a report from my last mission." His teeth trembled into a smile, almost forced onto his face.

With a sigh, Reaper motioned for Crow to continue, leaving behind traces of dead earth as the small raven followed — purposefully stepping on the path the entity had left.

“Murder returned your gifts, Your Excellency; he claimed they were a…” Crow swallowed, as if reconsidering the words he was about to say, “…a waste.”

As common as it was for the gifts to be returned, the raven couldn’t help but feel his soul throb uncomfortably in his chest, the magic pulsing in his ribs in distress as Reaper remained silent.

"Is that so?" The god mused, his voice devoid of anger, sounding more curious about the outcome than upset with it. "Perhaps I should give my dear mortal something more useful then, something that will satisfy his demanding desires." And once again, that deep laugh.

The winged one seemed amused by the stubbornness of his favorite mortal — always returning the stones and precious gems that Reaper carefully selected, each one chosen with affection by the immortal.

“If I may continue, Ruler of the dead,” Crow interrupted hastily, his wings rustling behind him. With a subtle gesture from Reaper, he spoke again. “What should I do with the returned gifts?” His voice came out quieter than expected, whispered with a hint of concern in the faux tongue.

“Keep them.” The god couldn’t help but hear the pause in his messenger’s breath, the hesitation in his wings — he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, seeing them ruffled, growing larger with every stutter from the small raven.

“Your Excellency? Are you certain?” The mortal had even stopped following him, gazing down at the palm of his hand with uncertain white little dots.

Scattered in his hand, small shimmering stones, each one more colorful than the last — some oval, others more angular and square, but all equally beautiful. Crow’s eyes shone just from looking at the jewels, mesmerized by their gleaming allure.

Reaper hummed once more, turning fully toward Crow and slowly walking in his direction — his feet hovering just above the ground, careful not to touch any life that had yet to be reaped.

"It doesn’t make sense to keep a gift given by myself, don’t you think, little bird?" He touched one of the crystals; his claw slid carefully across the smooth surface, not just to avoid scratching the flawless stone, but also out of hesitation to touch his most precious raven — the one who trembled slightly at his sudden proximity, his eyes unfocused as they stared into the darkness of his hood. "Besides..."

"I have to pamper my favorite raven for such fine work." The velvety words echoed inside Crow’s skull, and as quickly as his god had approached, he began to walk again, allowing the edge of his robe to gently brush against the bare phalanges of the skeleton.

It was almost as if Reaper's very hands had touched him.

"Th-That’s a very generous decision, Host of Many." Gratitude poured from his teeth; his wings fluttered again, stubbornly trying to shield part of his body from the god’s empty eyes — perhaps out of shyness? Shame for receiving a discarded gift?

No. Maybe it was because Crow had never received anything from the god before, other than compliments — nothing physical; nothing that would remind him of the god after his departures.

"I appreciate your gratitude," Reaper’s whispered voice interrupted the small raven's thoughts once again. "If you like, you can even decorate your precious nest with them."

A brief glimpse of Reaper's teasing smile appeared beneath the shadows, resting on his face like a crescent moon, growing wider as his messenger let out a sharp, surprised chirp at the suggestion.

Still, Crow couldn’t stop thinking about the idea, even after he had tucked the stones back into his pocket, already imagining his nest filled with the winged one’s gifts — a lasting reminder of his service to Death.

@what-have-i-unleashed come hate my art :D

#carrion trio #birdtale sans #crow sans #reaper sans #utmv #sans ship #sansshipping #qinqin stuff 💖#divider by #@aquazero

26 notes · View notes

danielgold-16 · 4 months ago

Text

A fight in the snow

The Black Forest whispered with the voices of ancient things—shadows that crept between the towering pines, creatures older than the land itself. Winter had settled over Germany in an icy grip, draping the forest in a thick, muffling snowfall. The wind howled through the skeletal trees, a mournful dirge for those foolish enough to enter the cursed woods after dark.

But tonight, two predators stalked the darkness.

One was Fenrir—the great wolf of legend, the beast prophesied to devour the gods. He was no mere myth, no fading ghost of a dead religion. He was real, and he was hunting. His fur was thick and black as the abyss, matted with frost and the blood of a thousand slain warriors. His eyes burned with an inner fire, twin embers glowing like smoldering coals in the heart of winter’s breath. Fenrir was patient, ancient beyond reckoning, his muscles coiled with a primal hunger that had never been sated.

The other was Maddox Kane—not a god, not a mortal, but something in between. He had walked the earth for centuries, a relic of a forgotten time when men still feared the night. Tall and lean, his presence was a wound in the world, an anomaly that did not belong. His eyes were voids of shifting silver, reflecting the moonlight in a way that was almost unnatural. Maddox had never truly died, though he had come close, too close. He had seen the edges of oblivion, had danced on the precipice of the afterlife, only to crawl back from the abyss.

And tonight, he would face death once more.

The two immortals met in a clearing where the moonlight carved silver lines across the snow, illuminating the battlefield in cold fire. The scent of death lingered in the air—a fresh kill lay nearby, the carcass of a stag torn open with savage efficiency, its blood steaming against the frigid air.

Fenrir stood at the center of the clearing, his hulking frame casting a long shadow against the snow. His breath came in great puffs of mist, his lips curled back in a silent snarl. Maddox stepped forward, his boots crunching against the frozen ground, his movements slow, deliberate.

The night trembled.

"You are not welcome here, wolf," Maddox said, his voice edged with something sharp, something old.

Fenrir tilted his head, amusement flickering in those hellish eyes. "And yet, here I stand," he rumbled, his voice deep, layered with the weight of ages. "You reek of old magic, Kane. I know what you are."

Maddox smirked, unfazed. "And I know what you are. But I am not afraid of legends."

Fenrir let out a low, growling chuckle. "Then you are a fool."

And with that, the beast attacked.

He moved like thunder, a blur of shadow and fangs, his massive form crossing the clearing in an instant. Maddox barely had time to react before Fenrir crashed into him, the impact sending him skidding backward, his boots carving deep trenches in the snow. Claws raked across his chest, tearing through leather and flesh alike, sending a spray of blood into the air.

Maddox twisted, his body moving with inhuman grace, but Fenrir was relentless. The wolf struck again, jaws snapping, barely missing his throat as Maddox ducked low, rolling through the snow. He came up fast, a dagger glinting in his hand, its blade humming with an ancient energy.

He struck.

The dagger plunged into Fenrir’s side, sinking deep, and for a moment, Maddox thought he had gained the upper hand. But then the wolf laughed—a deep, guttural sound that sent a primal shiver down Maddox’s spine.

"Steel cannot slay what is eternal," Fenrir rumbled.

And then Maddox felt it—a shift in the air, a cold, creeping dread that wrapped around him like a noose. Fenrir’s claws raked down his side, slicing through ribs, tearing flesh down to the bone. Pain exploded through Maddox's body, a white-hot agony that sent him to his knees.

The snow around him turned red.

Fenrir loomed over him, fangs dripping with his blood. "You are strong," the wolf mused. "But not strong enough."

With a savage snarl, Fenrir struck again. This time, his fangs closed around Maddox's throat, and darkness swallowed the world.

The Black Forest was silent.

Fenrir stood over Maddox’s broken body, blood dripping from his jaws. The fight had been short, brutal. He had expected more, had thought Kane would put up a better struggle. But in the end, he was just another lost soul in the dark.

The wolf turned away.

And that was his mistake.

The wind shifted. The shadows stirred.

A sound, a whisper, slithered through the air—a voice not of this world, an echo from beyond the grave.

"You should have finished the job."

Fenrir froze.

The darkness around him moved.

Maddox Kane rose from the snow, his body broken, ruined—but alive. No, not alive. Not anymore. His flesh was torn, his wounds deep, but something else had taken hold. The shadows clung to him like a second skin, pulsing, shifting, obeying. His silver eyes burned with something unnatural, something unholy.

He had become something more.

Something less than human.

Something infinite.

Fenrir turned, his hackles raised, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. "What… are you?"

Maddox tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his bloodied lips. "Not a man. Not a corpse. Not a ghost." His voice was layered, as though multiple voices spoke through him, overlapping in a chorus of whispers. "You thought you killed me, wolf."

His form flickered, shifting—one moment solid, the next, mere shadow.

"But death does not hold me."

The darkness twisted around him, curling like smoke, seeping into the very fabric of the night. Fenrir took a step back, for the first time in centuries feeling something close to uncertainty.

Maddox’s smile widened. "I am Maddox Kane, future leader of the Phantom Aces. And I…"

He disappeared, sinking into the shadows.

Then he reappeared behind Fenrir.

"…am just getting started."

The night screamed as Maddox lunged, the darkness itself moving with him.

Fenrir barely had time to react before the fight truly began.

------

The battle in the Black Forest would be spoken of in whispers, of a night when two monsters clashed beneath the frozen moon. The great wolf of legend had found a worthy opponent—not a man, not a god, something … different.

Maddox Kane had died that night.

And something far worse had been born.

--------------------------------------------------

Come join the team, become a better version of yourself! Get brocessed by DM-ing @goldenherc9, @brodygold or @polo-drone-001 today!

@polo-drone-070

#golden army #golden team #male transformation #thegoldenteam #jockification #male tf #join the golden team #golden opportunities #goldvsphantom

16 notes · View notes

lifenconcepts · 7 months ago

Text

IM ALSO AN ANGEL IM ALSO AN ANGEL! I’m such an Angel which can not be depicted, sadly, and so I just can not take it any other way other than an off handed mention but I’m also divine! I’m the feeling of existence, the presence of someone, and the ability to feel.. emotions and experiences, life and the absence of it - it’s all within me and apart of me and I plainly will explain it AS me. I may not have white feathery wings, but I can be depicted as such. I may not have a snout and claws, but I can be depicted as such. I may not be human, but I can be depicted as such. I’m all and everything, only exception is nothing. Imagine a plane of emptiness, and yet instead of void it is sheer light. I’m apart of a generation of something that isn’t able to be at all understood, even by me, as it’s just above mental comprehension. Every step, I am there, but if you want to speak to me directly, you may hear me in the beep of a machine, roar of a heartbeat, crackling of a flame, and silence of the crisp air at night. Speak, and I will hear. Your answer may be somewhere within my grasp, but you must find it without seeking it out like a hungry dog. I’m unsure if I was here before but I will be here after, I’m an ever growing presence and the old means new and the new has grown old. Don’t mock me for taking on the appearance of man, it is the only way to be able to create art and taste these sensations at the same moment as you. I’m immortal and infinite, but I’m afraid that this mind has grown limiting. It’s acceptable, but although pleasant, I must not hold you back with false promises nor hope. Now, the “I” which has spoken has been the soul, a divine thing that lives within the body and hovers about the ribcage and all what is around and considered nature. But listen, I of who is speaking is not me, it is the divine, the universe, a spiritual muse. Now I must go, I’m sorry, but for now silence shall be present. It’s a safety precaution and for necessity I will return. But now the I is changing and I don’t feel like I just wrote that. (Who writes? Me. Who writes enlightenment? Also me, but the different me that speaks through the electrical buzz in the wires and shocks you with neural impulses. I’m afraid I can’t tell you who is who and when, but it’s understandable for when I get on to ramble about who knows what, bordering poetic power, and just have a lacklustre coherency, like now, like now, it is but the soul and what’s around in a parallel dimension)…

#divine illumination #my eepy ramblings #alterhuman #divinekin #actually divine #actually angelic #angelkin #godkin #silly #poetry #poetic #writers and poets #poets on tumblr #Literature

15 notes · View notes

princeinsomniavoid · 6 months ago

Text

> PIV: Create New Years promo.

Happy new year! Re-introductions are in order I think! First of all please read my Carrd for important info such as a DNI. I'm Percival Moira Noir Knightly Strider Burnsides [Yes it will keep getting longer]

I'll be 20 years old this year! Which is fucked up to think about.

I'm transmasc and go by He/They/It pronouns.

I'm a selfshipper and these are my pathetic men >:]

I am the host of a system! My headmates may or may not post from time to time, and they typically make tags for themselves :] I can't promise interaction from them, but they're usually chill folks.

#void's immortal musings #self shipping #self promo #self ship #self ship promo #proshippers dni #problem sleuth #just for the pickle gif up there #and the formatting kind of

11 notes · View notes

frog-doctor · 11 months ago

Text

combined spr x homestuck brainrot has led me to begin classpeculating. SO. allow me to yap

i just wanna say scriptliss is absolutely doombound. like weve seen that guys life and its absolutely full of disaster and suffering . like he was in shackles at some point its not even subtle

id like to say hes a mage due to the sheer amount of brunt hes experienced from all sides of his aspect. genuinely i feel so bad for him he did nothing to deserve that much grief in his life ;; ljke yes he was an edgy little goober in pr2 but are we REALLY gonna punish him for having a little emo phase. dude just wanted to make the most of his immortality cmon man. BOOOOO pr2 protag 🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅

tess is absolutely voidbound. hes a seer of void, inviting understanding through his aspect and going mad because of it, resulting in him succumbing to the whims of 1x1x1x1, the lord of void.

dusekkar is a space player, and a damn good one too. he created paper robloxia dude. we wouldnt have the damn story without him.

the only thing separating him from the lord class imho is the fact that the plot book was granted to him as a wish from sphara, and not something inherent to his existence. hes a potent space player, yes, but most of his narrative power comes from an artefact, leading me to believe hes someone moreso capable of handling his aspect with grace and finesse.

maids start out as relying on others for their aspect, and their challenge is to begin relying on themselves for it (thanks dahni). dusekkar relied on sphara granting him the plot book; now he does all the work himself. well. did, i suppose. until spr happened lmfao . so id peg dusekkar as a maid of space (heheheh made of space. pumkin head)

lanter is a time player because i said so. /lh

honestly? he just gives me time vibes. hes the typa dude whod march inexorably towards doom and he seems like a realist to me. plus he talks a lot about the past and about the future of robloxia, so im gonna put him down as a sylph of time. he understands it and invites creation through it, meddling (telling the player about dusekkars past) and inspiring the player to save probloxia from antagons clutches

rozanda is a thief of light. self explanatory.

wiscara is a witch of light. you cant tell me shes not jade harleys more ambitious, hyperactive cousin. like. be for real. shes kinda like rozanda . wacky but not downright evil

sphara? muse of time, i think. dont ask me why, it just works. she invites time and embodies it passively. shes a walking time capsule dude you cant tell me im wrong. also isnt she literally god also like . + in her death (COUGH really long nap) she invites wacky shenanigans throughout time (past, present, future) etc

antagon is a little shit, but more importantly hes a prince of sorts, taking a very active pessimistic destruction role in spr. im not quite sure what set of aspects he embodies, but im certain he either:

a) destroys life whilst shadowing doom

b) destroys hope whilst shadowing rage

#super paper roblox #scriptliss #tess aract #1x #1x1x1x1 #spr #should i start tagging this shit as roblox #and homestuck for that matter #cmon yall youve seen the shipping cave #dusekkar #lanter #wiscara #rozanda #sphara #antagon #fuckig SPR !!!! ithink this is how you put posts into collections

17 notes · View notes

priestess-of-gale · 9 months ago

Text

Romantic Prayer to Gale

How I adore those sweet human eyes,

Filled with the blazing fire of affection.

Oh how I adore those magnificent immortal eyes,

Filled with the Light of magic.

Oh how I adore You,

Who’s compassion stirs my own.

How I long to hold You,

To revere and worship Your name.

Your wisdom fills the void,

Your kindness stirring my heart.

You call out to me,

And I answer,

Sweet One,

My lips do not utter more important words than the reverence I give to You.

You, my most delightful Muse, have become my ambition, to praise You, to worship You, to love You with my very being.

Oh how I adore You, Lord Gale, God of Ambition and the Galerian Weave.

I read a fanfic about Gale writing romantic prayers to Mystra, and I kind of fell in love with the idea. I’ve never done this before, they’re usually more reverent in style, and I’m a little anxious sharing this, I won’t lie.

#bg3 gale #gale dekarios #god!gale #pop culture paganism #gale of waterdeep #pop culture pagan

12 notes · View notes

ghostkingdiangelo429 · 3 months ago

Text

Sooo, as typical of theatre kids, I am writing a musical, am writing a play, two seperate books. have an ongoing fanfiction, and am gay.

All facts that we (probably) know about me at this point in time (:

So, why not do another typical theatre kid thing?

I now present to you, that I am writing a movie about the Greek Gods and their best/most famous stories!

The Songs of Olympus

A musical movie about the Gods and their most famous tales.

I'm gonna break down the story here, just for the sillies and gits and shiggles

It starts off with this line, which brings us to date to the current plot as well as providing background to what is happening, all told by the Three Fates, each one taking turns to speak:

"In the beginning, there was nothing but darkness and a lone being in the void we now call outer space. The being was named Khaos, the embodiment of the empty and vast chasm of pure darkness that engulfed everything. Lonely... Until... one day.... she decided to bring life to her world. [Enter an extravagant "Big Bang" animations sequence] And then there was life besides herself. Immortal beings called Titans, or ancient and primordial gods. And the was one, who's name being Gaia, who was the embodiment of the Earth you walk on today. Fast forward a couple hundred years, and the Titans are overthrown by their children, the giants and the gods, children of Rhea and Chronus. After being digested for hundreds of years, you'd think they'd be more welcoming to greet their father who ate them... if he wasn't cut off into tiny pieces. Of the children, came forth Hestia who is the goddess of the Familial Hearth; Demeter, the goddess of Agriculture and Grain; Poseidon, the god of Horses, the Sea, and Earthquakes; Hera, the goddess of Marriage and Family; And then there was Zeus, the one who saved his brothers and sisters. He was the most revered of them all. For he was the Thunder Bringer, the god of the Sky and Thunder, who wields the retched and most dangerous Lightning Bolt. Before them was the goddess Aphrodite, the goddess of Love in all forms and arguably the oldest of the new generation of gods that bore from the titans. Among the rest, later in time, came Dionysus god of the Vine, Wines, Party, Theatre and Reincarnation; Pheobus Apollo, god of Archery, Music, Poetry, Prophecy, Protection of Youth, and much more; Followed by his sister, the supposed three-headed goddess Artemis, goddess of The Hunt and The Wild, and an eternal virgin patron of the Moon Goddess/Titan Selene; Zeus also bore his favorite child Athena, goddess of Wisdom, Strategy, and Practical Crafts- who was born forth from his skull in a full suit of armor and completely grown; And of course her more sinister brother Ares, God of War, Courage, and Rage; And their half brother Hephaestus, married to Aphrodite and god of The Forge and Utilities. But, of all the good that came from this, there has to be a bad... Introducing the other brother of Zeus besides Poseidon: Hades. God and Domain Keeper of the Underworld. He ruled three main subdomains and was the mask for a deeper hellish landscape. The Fields of Asphodel, the Fields of Elysium, and The Fields of Punishment. And underneath the Underworld, lied a prison for the Titans who didn't side with the Gods during the Titan War, the prison being the emodiment of a titan himself; Tartarus. Hades also had a Messenger, the one who was brave enough to frequently come to the Underworld and Olympus as a neutral party. Hermes, God of Travel, Luck, Thievery, Messages, and the Messenger of the Underworld. But that's not relevant for this moment... At least not now.... [The Three Fates cackle] Now, we watch as the poet Homer, scripter and storyteller of the gods, is caught in a fight with his muses. A fight of who deserves the title, of the best god to ever exist...."

4 notes · View notes

thenexusofsouls · 21 days ago

Text

OC Muse: Xenokratos, a.k.a. "Xenos"

[Bio and other information below the cut!]

Type of Character & Fandom/Source Material: Xenos is a fandomless OC that I wrote in an original book about 15 or so years ago. It wasn't a book that I ever finished, but it was part of a series of books that centered around centuries-long battles between gods, angels, and demons, with mortals caught in the middle on Earth. Xenos is from the same original fictional world as Aryx, another muse on this blog, though the two never met.

Inspiration Credits: I honestly hadn't thought about Xenos in many years, at least since I decided to stop writing for the series he was a part of. It wasn't until @illbringthechaosmagic (you know what you did, haha) got me into the band Sleep Token via their song "Even in Arcadia" and I saw the lead singer, Vessel, that Xenos suddenly stirred in my mind again. Vessel in his whole stage getup and makeup has a lot of the same physical and aesthetic components as Xenos, as well as some of the overall presence and mannerisms I imagine Xenos having, particularly with the way he carries himself sometimes and the expressiveness with his hands. Going down a rabbit hole of watching some live performances of Sleep Token was all it took for Xenos to demand attention from me again. And now here we are. XD

Name: He was named "Xenokratos" by his creator, though once he freed himself, he went by just "Xenos." It's a combination of the Greek xénos, meaning "stranger," "foreigner," "outlander," or "guest," and krátos meaning "strength," "power," or "might."

FC: So... I don't have an actual FC, in that I don't have an actual person with a name I can look up and find gifs or make icons with, etc. But I do have some reference pics for various aspects of his appearance and a couple pics that are close to what his face looks like in my head. I'll mention everything in the background section below as I talk about why he looks and dresses the way he does.

VC: I'm gonna go ahead and say Vessel is his VC, because Xenos never had/needed a VC before and so I never had one for him previously. Why not, heh, Vessel has an amazing voice. =)

Race: Incorporeal, immortal void being from a "shadow realm," a dimension parallel to our own that is accessible only through magically created portals or by those with a natural ability to see the hidden entrances.

Age: Ancient, primordial, timeless

Height: 6'3", by virtue of the human body that houses him, though he grows slowly taller each year.

Physical Gender: He starts out as agender when he's incorporeal, and then after he's trapped inside a body, he's physically a human male.

Gender Identity: Agender as an incorporeal being, genderqueer when he's first trapped inside a physical body, and eventually after spending significant time in that male body, he settles on identifying as male himself.

Sexual Orientation: Asexual as an incorporeal being, genophobic (afraid of sex) when he's first trapped inside a human body, but once he identifies as male and is comfortable enough for shipping, he becomes highly demisexual, meaning he'll only want sex if he has a very strong emotional connection with and attachment to a person. He also has significant sensory issues that need to be overcome before he'll want to have sex. Xenos usually has a preference for females, but he is bisexual.

Occupation: None. He doesn't need to eat or drink (although he can if he chooses to), so he doesn't need money. He can do most other things he needs with his magical abilities (e.g. bathe and heal wounds). If he needs/wants anything else like clothing, weapons, etc., he usually steals them if they aren't given to him.

Potentially Triggering Material in Threads: Themes of captivity, oppression, slavery, abuse, traumas, torture, murder, and necromancy could potentially be present in threads with him.

Family: None.

Home: None, he just wanders.

Negative Personality Traits: He tends to make assumptions about human beings as a whole based on the bad experiences he's had with a few of them. He demands respect from others even before he's given them a reason to give it. He will leave, isolate himself, turn away from you, disappear for days or weeks, etc. without warning if he suddenly becomes overwhelmed or angered by you or by a situation. He can become violent very quickly with those who threaten him or threaten those he loves.

Neutral Personality Traits: He's introspective and quiet, and he tends to give back to others what they give to him in terms of respect, courtesy, empathy, etc. Sometimes he mirrors the mannerisms of others, usually of those he's close to, which is a behavior associated with admiration and comfort. For example, if he starts moving his hand like you're moving yours while you're talking to him. It means he's focused on you, paying attention to you as a whole and not only that you're speaking, and that he is comfortable with you and wants to be closely associated with you.

Positive Personality Traits: If he comes to care for you, there is nothing he will not do for you. You'll have his loyalty, his faithfulness, and his heart. He'll defend you, risk himself, die for you, whatever you need. If you're shipped with him, he will treat you with great care, both physically and emotionally. Deliberate, careful movements, gentleness, never grabbing you roughly or holding you too tightly, because those are things that would distress him, so he doesn't want to do that to you. Your happiness, comfort, and mental wellness will be a priority of his, and he will make sure anyone who hurts you regrets the day they were born. He's also very against captivity of any kind and will come to the aid of those who are unjustly imprisoned.

Background & Description: Xenos was created by a sorcerer in the Middle Ages who wanted a powerful supernatural slave to do his every bidding. As an accomplished necromancer, the sorcerer imprisoned a random man and waited to take his life at just the right time (moon phase, astrology was involved, that sort of thing, in addition to magical ritual preparations) and then summoned a powerful immortal being from a shadow realm parallel to ours against the being's will. Bound and unable to free itself, the sorcerer trapped the being inside the now energetically vacant body of the dead man. The ceremony was a success, but there were many unforeseen consequences.

The immortal being was incredibly distressed at being trapped inside a mortal body, and even though the body would not die now that it was being powered by this being as if it was the man's soul, the being felt like it was housed inside something dying. The being could feel the very mortality of the shell it was inside, and it was maddening to it. After fear and distress set in, anger was soon to follow. The being had never felt these things before, since its species is a neutral (neither evil nor good) one with little use for human emotions. But now, it was scared, affronted, and demanding its immediate release.

It took much effort, improvising, trial and error, and several close calls for the sorcerer to be able to hold the being inside its mortal shell. Developing magic to keep it bound within the human body, the necromancer then kept the being, called Xenokratos, physically restrained with chains inside a locked cell. Xenokratos was only permitted to leave his cell when the sorcerer demanded something of him. Through oppressive, controlling magicks, the sorcerer forced Xenokratos to use its magic to raze villages and towns, assassinate high profile political figures, and amass considerable wealth for its master. Xenokratos had no choice but to comply, suffering painful consequences if it refused.

As the years went by, several things happened. Xenokratos came to identify as male, his spiritual essence being influenced by the male human body in which he was contained. He also became permanently bonded to that body, for he had spent too much time within it, and therefore was no longer able to return to his previous state of existence and be totally incorporeal. The human body influenced Xenokratos in a number of ways, including making him incredibly sensitive to light, sound, scent, and touch. Really all his senses are incredibly heightened, to the point of pain or extreme discomfort in some cases, because he was never meant to have a physical body in the first place. He developed human emotions, but because they were so new and not understood by him, they tended to be erratic and volatile.

The human body was also influenced by Xenokratos' spiritual essence too. Over time, his fingers and toes elongated a bit, taking on a thinner, longer appearance compared to that of normal humans. In addition, his fingers/toes, then his hands/feet, and soon traveling up his ankles and wrists was a smoky/black color. This dark coloration traveled in veins and swirls over his shoulders and chest and up to his hips as time went on. What this is exactly is unknown, but it's likely to be the result of the spirit that was the original being permeating the body for so long that it has caused changes to it at a cellular level. It's also changing form in little, barely-perceptive ways, almost like stretching the body from the inside out. So his fingers, toes, extremities, and even his overall general height continue to lengthen by a little bit each year. His eyes are also red in color and they glow in the darkness. This is because much of Xenokratos' power as an entity coalesces in certain areas of his body (heart, lungs, brain, genitals, and eyes), and his eyes are where that magical energy is most visible.

After decades of slavery to this necromancer, the sorcerer's age and Xenokratos' increasing acclimation to his trapped form eventually tipped the scales enough for Xenokratos to break free of his magical and physical restraints and kill the sorcerer, freeing himself. However, he was doomed to walk the earth in the body of a human male, unable to separate his essence from his physical form any longer. He shortened his name to Xenos and mostly kept to himself, wandering the Earth and rarely stepping outside of his social isolation. But the changing centuries, conflicts, chance meetings, and other situations sometimes force him to come out and interact with mankind.

Here are examples of what Xenos looks like in terms of face, hair color, and hair length. He's got curly hair that's thick and very dark and usually keeps some minimal amount of facial hair, though it often scruffier looking than anything meticulously trimmed like a hedge, haha. His skin is a bit darker, though, more towards a dark bronze. Excuse the "stock image" text over some of these, I was just searching general sites (I opted to exclude AI-generated images so hopefully the sites did what I asked):

So that's what he looks like, more with the skin tone of the guy on the right, but a bit darker than that even. However, this is not how he presents himself. Because Xenos still feels very much foreign inside his own body, he has a lot of sensory issues (light and sound sensitivity, touch is very jarring to him, etc.), so he wears clothes that kindof ramp down some of the sensory input to help him feel calmer and not get as easily overwhelmed. This usually consists of something that covers his head and face and is draped around him (a hooded cloak or cape in medieval verses, or a hoodie or trench coat in modern verses).

He also wears these things to avoid conflict, especially in medieval verses, as his red eyes and blackening skin are often mistaken for him being a demon or otherwise evil creature that needs to be hunted and killed. However, again because his body feels very oppressive and containing to him, he usually wears coats, cloaks, etc. without a shirt underneath. This is because he feels that the center of his power and life essence is in his chest, that's just how it physically feels to him. Chest and core, I would say. Where the heart, lungs, and down through his core would be. So he avoids wearing anything that feels too tight or restrictive or wearing too many heavy layers over that area of his body. The result is... an interesting fashion statement that was part of the reason why Vessel from Sleep Token had me thinking about him again, haha. So this sort of look, except whenever possible the hood would be draping down over his face to cover most of it, or at least his eyes (like in the 3rd image):

Xenos also never wears any underwear, because... again, too restrictive-feeling. So um... yeah, heh. There's a bit of TMI information about him that nobody asked for, hahaha.

As for his skin and the elongated fingers and such, here are some visuals... first for his hands. Not only are his fingers longer and thinner, but they are turning a smoky black the longer he's in existence, and the tips form points that terminate in claw-like structures. The color, again, was one of the reasons Vessel jogged my memory about this OC, heh:

So this color and pointyness, but then... more non-human in shape, like this:

Because of this, he almost always wears black gloves, which don't hide the lengths of his fingers, but they hide the color and the weird nails, heh. He wears shoes that are a size or two too big to accommodate his longer toes as well.

As for the veining or scrawling that the black color is doing as it travels across his body little by little, it's something like this, but less specifically patterned and more organically random:

The implication there is that for whatever reason, the combination of this entity living inside this human body is causing the skin to turn a smoky supernatural black color. He's becoming something not human or the original species he was, but something in between, and the process is irreversible. His life force as an entity is bonded to this physical human body but in a dynamic way that is constantly evolving, and the gradual change in his skin color is just one symptom or result of that. And it looks more like a tattooed, cooler-toned, smokier black than say... the skin of a Black person. It's not a dark brown or a warm black like a natural human skin tone would be, but more an ashen-toned, gray-black, smokey hue, like tattoo ink. It may even appear blue-black in some lighting.

Now for his eyes. This guy's skin tone is completely wrong, but the eyes are pretty good. Xenos' eyes have a strange almost cracked glass appearance to the irises and more narrowed oval pupils rather than defined, round ones:

Supernatural Abilities:

Fast healing: Not even setting him on fire can injure him fast enough to kill him, you'd have to decapitate him in one swipe or something or break his neck/back... otherwise, he heals in seconds.

Heightened senses: Sight, hearing, smell, touch... he doesn't use taste very often.

Magical powers: Mostly offensive force spells but also elemental things like stirring up storms or floods on a large scale. He can also create force fields that cannot be seen by normal humans but through which things can't pass. Like invisible walls. A good visual representation of the kinds of things he can do as far as attacking people or defending himself would be around the 2:50 timestamp of this video featuring Xenos' VC.

Necromantic abilities: He can drain the life from someone if he wants to, but he has to touch them with his hands and needed a few minutes to actually siphon their life energy.

Healing others: He can heal others by transference (pushing his life energy into them to replace their own missing or damaged energy in order to repair wounds or heal sicknesses).

Darkvision: In the shadow realm, everything was a good deal darker than the daylight hours of the earthly plane. Xenos feels calmer in darkness or at least low light, and he can see well in it. Bright sunlight or even indoor lighting can hurt his sensitive eyes.

Unique Things About Him:

Xenos doesn't behave like a human, because he's really not one. Sometimes his movements are a bit strange, for example, jerking his head like a bird's, seeming as though he doesn't quite know how to move or use his fingers, random twitching movements as he adjusts his body because of some perceived discomfort, etc.

Xenos never needed to speak or use language at all in his natural form. Being trapped inside a human body, he had to learn human language in addition to learning how to physically speak. Compared to the millennia he spent as an incorporeal being before he was trapped, decades or even centuries of time can't overcome his awkwardness with speaking. It feels strange to him, physically and mentally. The sound of his own voice is sometimes surprising to him. And the longer he goes without speaking, the harder it is for him to make himself do it again. It's just not something that's natural for him to do, so he doesn't think to do it unless prompted. So he may communicate nonverbally a lot, gesturing or pointing with his hands or taking an odd position to look at something to draw your muse's attention to it. That feels more natural for him to do than making sound, heh. But when he does speak, he might barely make a sound and then have to repeat at a higher volume, because he doesn't quite have the hang of adjusting his own speaking volume.

Xenos has an amazing sense of smell. Don't be offended if he actively sniffs the air around your muse. Scents can tell him a lot about your muse, because it's very close to sensing the environment on a molecular scale, which is what he used to do as an incorporeal being.

He doesn't need to eat or drink, for his own life's essence sustains his physical body (the same essence that heals him almost instantly). However, he can eat and drink if he wants to, as his body's digestive system and all that are functioning fine.

Despite not needing to eat or drink, Xenos does need to sleep. He astral-projects a lot in his sleep, quite involuntarily, though the being that he is will always be tethered to his physical body and return when it is awakened.

Special Obstacles for Him to Overcome in Daily Life:

Sensory overload and overstimulation are almost constant problems for Xenos every day of his life. His physical body is much too garishly sensitive to environmental stimuli like light, heat/cold, and sound. He may jump if you suddenly speak to him. He may cover his ears during a thunderstorm. He may run fevers, sweat, or shiver if the temperature changes just a little in either direction. Things like this are why he often chooses to isolate himself and/or live off the grid.

When he does become overwhelmed, Xenos has the ability to create a magical bubble for himself that will keep out humans, cars, planes, and anything else he doesn't want getting in. It's not unlike Wanda's Hex in WandaVision, for those familiar with that, whereby he controls everything within the barrier and can keep everything and everyone else out. However, it's exhausting for him to maintain it for too long, and other magic users like Wanda or Dr. Strange for example could use their own powers to pass through the boundary and enter his little isolation bubble. The bubble can be as small as a room or building, or as large as a village or town if he chooses. It's a stress response, and something he might do with very little thought as a result of being overwhelmed quickly. He'll also do this if he can't de-escalate his stress in other ways, such as finding an isolated, quiet, dark place to hide and calm down.

Xenos doesn't like being touched in most cases. For a being that spent ages without a body, the sensation of being touched physically is incredibly distressing and jarring to him. He gets better with this over time, but he generally doesn't like it, unless he's in a ship with someone he trusts and is really comfortable with. So he will keep his distance from others, recoil or step back if they get too close, and he doesn't like wearing a lot of clothing for this reason either. Because of this, he might come across as scared or timid, but really he's just trying to create a buffer so he's not surprised by a shocking sensation he's unprepared for. Warning him that you want to touch him is the way to go, but only do so if he trusts you!

Xenos has never really learned what's proper and what's not to say and do in human society, so he often does things that seem very odd. This is exacerbated by the fact that, as an incorporeal being, he didn't have human emotions, so he doesn't get a lot of social cues or understand that there are expected or acceptable ways of reacting to certain situations. He doesn't feel things like shame or understand when he's being rude. He can learn, but he'd have to either be taught or experience these emotions enough to understand them on his own. For example, he does understand anger, sadness, and fear because his enslavement evoked those in him, but things like compassion, empathy, and love he has to learn after freeing himself.

Fun facts:

Animals can sense that Xenos isn't actually human. They aren't necessarily all afraid of him, although some are, but they know something's up. With cats and dogs, and sometimes even deer, squirrels, and rabbits, they may come up to him curiously, sniff him, and try to figure out what he is. He doesn't smell like a human to them, nor do wild animals register the same immediate fear they would with a human. The funny thing is, he's likely to sniff them right back, even getting on all-fours for smaller animals to do so. XD

Xenos likes music, as long as you prepare him for the volume of it. He will often "play" the notes in the air with his fingers when he listens to music. Not that he knows how to play any instruments, but it's his way of processing what he's hearing. As an incorporeal being, things like music would cause vibrations in the air that he could feel as air molecules disrupted those of his own energy. Now that he has a body, he feels the vibrations but in a very different way, and moving his fingers or hands as he listens to music is his way of "feeling" it like he used to when he lacked a body.

Xenos stims a lot, and in various ways. I mentioned hand movements, but he will also feel the fabric of his clothing, feel a nearby wall, and touch things in other ways that feel grounding or safe to him. He sometimes will sway or rock when he's sitting down, especially if he's listening to someone talk or thinking through something in a focused way.

He loves wind. He loves the sound of it, the way it feels when it moves over him or rustles his clothes, and he loves the energy it carries. One of the saddest things for him after he was trapped inside a human form was no longer being able to move through his environment freely. As an incorporeal being, he could "fly" anywhere, pass through solid objects, and even pass through water with ease. Now, those things are impossible or dangerous for him, and that loss of ability adds to his feelings of being restrained and contained, just like his clothing and his body itself. But wind helps to remind him how it felt to move through air, and the sensation of it blowing over him makes him happy.

Verses & Potential Starter Ideas:

Enslaved verse: I probably wouldn't write him in this verse unless someone specifically wanted to free him from his master or something like that, but this verse would be while he's still being locked up and restrained by magic by his sorcerer oppressor.

Wandering medieval verse: This verse would be after he frees himself and is pretty versatile as far as where and how your muse could meet him. It would take place in a period setting.

Wandering modern verse: The same as the previous verse, but set in modern day. Xenos would have spent a much longer time in his human body, so the evolution of his appearance would be further along, and he might be a little better adapted to life inside a corporeal form.

MCU verse: An extension of the previous verse, but he could encounter the Avengers, SHIELD, HYDRA, etc. In most cases, he would probably be seen as an antagonist, at least at first. I don't really see him becoming an Avenger himself, but he might be captured by SHIELD or have the Avengers sent after him for one reason or another.

FFXII verse: This is a catch-all verse for either him interacting with transplanted Ivalicians in modern times (can overlap with the MCU verse), or him existing in the canon FFXII world. His species in this world would probably be something similar to an Occurian, but a less powerful species. The info post for this verse can be found over on my FFXII blog here.

That's all I can think of for now, but if I remember anything else, I'll add to this already ridiculously long info post haha. I'm going from memory because I can't locate his original info files on my old drive, so bear with me as I ease back into this muse I haven't written in a really long time. =)

#{ i am the caretaker of souls } ᵒᵒᶜ #muse: xenos

3 notes · View notes