"mortals are so strange, you have all these pleasures of the flesh but spend most of your time tormenting each other. --and you think the only devils reside in hell...?"
"Little early for talk like this, ain't it?"
Game of Thrones Daily
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Keni

Andulka
No title available
Jules of Nature
will byers stan first human second
🪼
No title available
DEAR READER
dirt enthusiast
cherry valley forever
Cosimo Galluzzi
Three Goblin Art

No title available

No title available
we're not kids anymore.
One Nice Bug Per Day

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
RMH

seen from Singapore

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Iraq

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Brazil

seen from China

seen from Vietnam

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Singapore

seen from Denmark

seen from Malaysia

seen from Switzerland

seen from United States

seen from Indonesia

seen from Spain
seen from United States
@bloodstne
"mortals are so strange, you have all these pleasures of the flesh but spend most of your time tormenting each other. --and you think the only devils reside in hell...?"
"Little early for talk like this, ain't it?"
He could hear it. It's malicious and hungry whispers licking at his consciousness, just craving to be used. To draw blood. To take life. He had to push it down. Fight the cravings and temptations. He took Blade's advice to heart and grounded himself. Understanding that this weapons craving and thirst was not something he needed to sate. Blade could understand that more than anyone, even his uncle.
He had been staring off, hardening his resolve and controlling his temptations, when Elsa spoke. He shook his head to clear his mind and blinked hard before allowing his eyes to fall on her. He didn't know his reality's Elsa Bloodstone but Eric did, and if she was anything like that one this was going to be a rough session.
He furrowed his brow at the pretty boy comment, not in frustration, more in the way of not knowing what to say. "Eric has taught me a thing or two." He replied with a weak smirk. His eyes lowered to his blade, it was still wrapped in its ceremonial cloth. He wanted to use it. He wanted to feel the power it brought him. He wanted to master it so he could save her.
"I want you to be positive before we begin, miss Bloodstone. Are you certain you don't want me to use a training sword or something? I have back ups I can use instead." He was afraid of what would happen if the blade tasted her. If he could resist its desire for more.
"You're being coached by the Daywalker? Bloody hell. We'll have to unlearn all the rubbish I'm sure he's instilled in your head."
Despite her seemingly harsh words, Elsa and Blade were on fine terms. He made her job easier for the most part, and they had worked together before. There was no current beef between the two, and she was glad that Dane was coming to her with some training under his belt. The last thing she needed was to teach someone how to hold their sword.
"Believe it or not, Mr. Whitman, but I've been hit with some nasty magic before. I appreciate your concern, but I'm more than capable of holding my own. Besides, we need to get you used to your blade. The length, the weight, the way it moves. Nasty thing, the Ebony Blade. The more control you have, the better."
Planting her feet, Elsa swished her own sword a few times to get used to it. She preferred a gun, but that wouldn't be fair. "Okay, let's see what Blade taught you."
"Vamps? So you mean like, werewolf, vampire, witch-kind of monsters? Cool."
"What other vampires would I be referring to?" It took a lot to resist the urge to sigh in annoyance. "Let me guess: you're woefully ignorant to the supernatural creatures that all major cities are crawling with?"
"I don't concern myself with such inconsequential matters." While his words were rude his tone wasn't. Vampires didn't matter to him know did he much know what they were. They were simply inconsequential to himself and the empire."
"Always the same with you space-faring type. It's all fun and games until the vampires try to take over, though. Hopefully that armor of yours covers your throat."
"I'm sorry, can you backtrack a bit? Monsters are real? Oi, maybe I shouldn't be surprised by that, actually..." They did fight a rabid jackal that was conjured up by Egyptian magic. Vampires and werewolves shouldn't have been completely out of the question.
"Of course monsters are real. You thought there was a big, green radioactive rage machine and a god with hair out of shampoo commercial but no monsters? C'mon now."
"You're telling me that not only do I spontaneously combust, but now I've gotta worry about vampires too?"
"Spontaneously combust? Shite, mate, take ten steps back." Elsa shook her head. "You've always had to worry about vampires, you just didn't realize it."
@dayblade
"I wouldn't say all's quiet on the western front, but it's not nearly as bad as I would have expected." A slew of vampires being ripped from their reality and brought into a new one? It was bound to be messy. "Which, of course, only worries me more. I'll be pissed if they're planning something."
He was not in the mood. Not in the mood at all. It was frigid, he had been comfortable in his warm bathrobe, burning a brimstone scented candle with a nice Bordeaux and then he gets a page. No he's had to venture out into the frigid temperatures that could nearly freeze hell over to find Vielzib, an imp that has grown too big an ego.
Vielzib was no stranger to the Hellstrom's. Ordinarily he was harmless. Just extraordinarily obnoxious, but now he'd gone to far. Gotten his hands on some sort of occult text and learned how to make deals with mortals. Took years off of some mortals life for some of the most ridiculous outcomes. This is not something an imp waas permitted to do, and of fortunately it was Daimon's turn to take him in. He'd have to imprison him in a mirror until the gates of hell could be accessed once again, then he'd exorcise him from the plane.
Dressed in his red and black suit with a long black cloak he made his way through the city. He followed the imp's infernal energy. If he were to describe the way it felt to track him it was as if you were smelling rotten eggs while eating an apple. A sickening experience but one he had grown numb to.
He was within the next blocks of Vielzib when he noticed a strange character. A fit woman that he could feel frustration and determination off of. It took him a moment and a glimpse at her soul to realize who this was. Elsa Bloodstone of Earth 616. One of their multiversal guests. Hellstrom & Hellstrom LLC had done some research on her. A potential threat to their whole business practice. His body faded into his shadow before rising from the shadows near her, the scent of brimstone stinging the nostrils being the only sign of magic.
"Miss Bloodstone, as you can tell by my outfit, I'm working as well." He replied in his smooth baritone as he straightened his posture. He felt his jaw clench at her tone but wiggled his jaw slightly to loosen it. "I don't know you personally but clearly you know a version of me. I'd expect you treat us as the separate individuals we are. Please and thank you." He added offering a forced half smile. "I'd also like you to note that I'm not here to insure this 'free reign for monsters' you so delicately put. I'm here to maintain balance. Werewolves, vampires, kaiju and the like you are more than welcome to help yourself to. Demons and devils however, our the business of Hellstrom & Hellstrom. If not for us this city would have been overrun by demons by now. So please try this introduction again." He chided as his lips quirked into a smug smile.
New York City's usual scent of urine and garbage was now being infused with brimstone. Lovely. It was enough to bring a scowl to an already tense face. "And here I thought you were on your way to a costume party." Elsa retorted. Was he above blending in? The Financial District wasn't Times Square or Hell's Kitchen, where people would maybe expect to see a cloak.
Knowing a version of him was — to an extent — enough. It was an indicator that they likely were on the same side, even if their approaches and methods would vary. It also, however, put her instantly on edge. The Son of Satan was, at the end of the day, still the Son of Satan.
She was getting ready to comment on the variant thing when another part of his statement caught her attention. "Hellstrom & Hellstrom? Have you and your sister finally sold out? Gone corporate? Never thought I'd see the day." There was a scoff and a shake of her head. Elsa eyed him. She didn't feel threatened, but she did feel bothered. "Sorry, mate. Not much in the business of being told what to do by demon spawn. Let's talk business."
"frankly, i think every one is a bit too casual about this. i've been alive for half a millennia and spent lifetimes studying the vast expanse of the mystic arts. Even I can't think of too many beings capable of this sort of multiversal feat, at least not any that bring comfort." "Plucking variants from one universe to the next and gathering them to another is one thing. It is another entirely to perform so against our will, in such a way that it cannot be undone. And, for what? Annihilation? Amusement?"
"Agatha Harkness. You're looking younger than I remember. I wouldn't usually consider someone who was deceased for a decent amount of time the one with the finger on the pulse, but I s'pose these are unprecedented times. Tell me, Agatha, if everyone is too casual for your liking, what have you been doing to fix things?"
@hell-lc
She was not in the mood. Not in the mood at all. In Elsa's defense, it was too damn cold for anyone to be in the mood for anything. London got cold. The countryside where she grew up got even colder. In general, the motherland had a generally gray vibe that was off putting to many. For Elsa, it was home. She could take a chill. The current temperature in New York, however, far exceeded that. It felt like a deep-in-the-bones kind of frost that threatened to freeze you through. It was the kind of night that called for closed shutters and steaming mugs of tea. Instead, Elsa was subjected to something far different.
Monster hunting was brutal work. Sometimes sexualized in the media, sure, but brutal work all the same. It wasn't all sexy corsets and looking hot with a gun. It was work — bloody, violent, gruesome. Add in a winter parka and it was downright annoying. Suddenly, you were fighting not only the ghoul of the night but also your own heavy coat as you tried to find the weapon buried underneath all the layers. A crossbow on your back? Good luck wrestling off if you're wearing a scarf.
As a result, Elsa was freezing. She had sacrificed warmth for mobility. It was easier to stalk the streets if you weren't being weighed down. Being cold, ultimately, was also a great motivator. Find the rogue demon that was crossing the line, dispatch it back to hell, return home to her biscuits. The search so far had lead her to Exchange Alley in the Financial District, which was one of five functioning alleys on Manhattan. A bit cliched, but at least it was private. She didn't need to deal with gawker's as she wiped guts off herself.
Feeling eyes on her, Elsa quickened her pace for a few steps so she could wrap a hand around the gun tucked into her waistband. One quick glance backwards, however, slowed her momentum to a halt as she recognized the face.
"Oh, bloody hell. Not you. Go away. I'm working. A messy multiverse doesn't mean free reign for monsters."
@ebcnyblade
Elsa knew Dane Whitman.
No, scratch that. Elsa knew the Dane Whitman of Earth-616. She was in some fucked up scenario that now required the constant clarification of which reality people had been dropped in from. Elsa knew the Dane Whitman of her own reality after years of crossing paths, but she had never met this variant before. He was a total stranger to her, and she owed him nothing. Unfortunately, he also had a large magical sword he was rather new to. That made him a little more interesting.
Elsa's own blade was freshly polished. It wasn't like she had much else to do. Meeting her own variant was a hundred percent out of the question. All of the multiversal refugees had been told the same thing: keep your head down and don't make waves. They were still looking for answers and explanations, and the last thing anyone needed was a variant complicating things further. And so, she trained. She worked out. She drank watery tea and cursed a God she had never believed in.
Ulysses had never allowed his heir to train in armor or any kind of protective covering. No Bloodstone would ever grow complacent or soft. If the stakes were low, people wouldn't perform to a satisfactory degree. No. The blades were real and they drew blood. Elsa was littered with the cuts from her past — both physical and psychological. Looking at Whitman, however, she wasn't too concerned about him adding to the collection.
"Okay, pretty boy." Her shoulders rolled back. "Do you know how to use that, or is the Ebony Blade just for show in your reality?"
@werewlfwithin
Dismal. That was the best way to explain the state of affairs. Completely and totally dismal. At this point, there wasn't even a silver lining to be found. They were stuck in New York City — an undeniably godless place — in some strange reality no one had ever heard of. Elsa had been happy with her life. Disgruntled at times, sure, but ultimately content overall. She had made a killing — quite literally — by avoiding multiversal travel. Other dimensions were fine, but new realities were not. Now, she was marooned with no choice in the matter.
New York wasn't entirely a stranger. Elsa had become acquainted with the city over the years, but she had never cared enough to call it home. It was for business only — if she was going to vacation, it was somewhere warm and tropical. Stepping into any dark street in NYC without being fully armed felt wrong. It was because of this that she stayed strapped. Two firearms (one loaded with silver bullets and the other with the standard fare), stakes, the dagger in her boot. Had it been a hunting night specifically, the crossbow would have been on her back. That always garnered too many questioning looks, though, so it had been left at home for a night at the bar.
Surprisingly, the weather in New York wasn't too different than what Elsa would have expected in London at this time of the year. Wet, cool, but ultimately not frigid. The chill pinched at the skin left exposed by her leather coat. Thankfully, the flush of liquor warmed her from the inside like a furnace. New York was the pits, but at least they poured a hefty shot.
Central Park was technically closed at night after one am. Of course, that had done little to stop Elsa. She wasn't necessarily looking for trouble, but her trigger finger was itching and she wouldn't have minded a little adventure. Shooting at dummies in the Avenger's Compound did little to hold her interest. It was mundane and boring and —
There.
A rustle. Nothing more than the whispering of leaves brushing together and the quiet hush of grass blowing in the night air. To most, it would be imperceptible. To Elsa, it was an exciting possibility. She stilled, eyes dissecting the dark. Waiting was no issue. The hunter stood, stock-still. Squirrels scurried across the brush, too small to be a human. It wasn't until there was a telltale crunch of a branch under a foot that Elsa moved, angling her body to block the path of the stranger.
"Evenin'. Little late for a night stroll, isn't it? Then again," a self-deprecating laugh followed. "I s'pose I can't say much on the matter as I'm here too."
"Last I checked, I had signed up to hunt monsters, not traverse the bloody multiverse. Pardon me for not being super chuffed right now. Does anyone even know where the vamps hang out in this godforsaken reality?"
JODIE COMER. Empire Magazine.
Werewolf by Night (One-Shot) (variant cover) (2023)
Art by: Adam Hughes