Born From Darkness

Visit death again. // Indie RP and Ask Blog for a Xenomorph OC of the Alien Quadrilogy. // WIP, same mun as "neomorrph"

[unearthlydust]

“Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”

ALIEN: COVENANT (2017)

[deathinthedepthsofspace]

★★★★★★★★☆☆  — strength ★★★★★★★★★★  — offense ★★★★★★★★☆☆  — defense ★★★★★★★★★★  — speed ★★★★★★★★☆☆  — durability ★★★★★★★★★☆  — accuracy ★★★★★★★★★★  — agility ★★★★★★★★★★  — stamina ★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆  — teamwork ★★★★★★★★★★  — stealth  

★★★★★★★★★★  — close combat ★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆  — bladed weapons ( swords, dagger/s ) ★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ — blunt weapons ( club/s, staffs )   ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ — ranged weapons ( archery, gun/s ) ★★★★★★★★★★  — superpowers / abilities ★★★★★★★★★★  — traps/setups ★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆  — medic

any lasting injuries from combat? ) —

ultio has scars from when he was just a chestburster and got into a fight with clan of space rats in the ventilation system- they are mostly a bunch of rough shapes on his hide that look like fixed cracks. he also has a wound from a crowbar between the middle tubes on his back where a working Joe android stabbed him during a fight once, and a series of small indentations in his rib area from being shot repeatedly with primitive human weapons from before the pulse rifle age. none of these really impede him, but the space rat scars really piss him off.

fighting style?   ( bold any that apply. )  — commander / duelist / honorable / dishonorable / would have others do their fighting / stealthy / long-ranged / melee / technological / sorcery / superhuman abilities / has fought in a tourney / a lover of fighting / a hater of fighting / cowardly / reckless / strategic / uses underhand tricks / renowned for their skill / trained / untrained / keeps skill secret / won a battle / lost a battle /  ruthless / merciful

tagged by: I stole it out of the tags ;) tagging: anyone who’s interested!

[deathinthedepthsofspace]

SHIPPING INFO // Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog. REPOST. Don’t reblog.

What’s your OTP for your Muse?:  Ultio/Marlowe would be the closest thing to an OTP, if not for the fact he’s going to kill Marlowe someday.

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?:  Almost anything. Ultio’s nature makes it a necessity to be adventurous with my RP.

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?:   I really don’t care about age gaps, personally.

Are you selective when shipping?:  I’m not super selective, but there has to be chemistry between our characters. 

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NS.FW?:  I will probably tag NSFW as soon as things start to head towards heavy petting.

Who are other muses you ship your muse with?: I ship Ultio with his ‘mates’ Bourne and Marlowe, obviously, but I’m willing to ship with plenty of others, too.

Does one have to ask to ship with you?:  I’m okay with it evolving organically without me being asked, but if someone tries to force it in-thread, Ultio will probably attack.

How often do you like to ship?:  I like shipping quite a bit honestly but I hardly ever do it because I’m too shy to ask about it.

Are you multiship?:  I am multiship, and its either in terms of multiverse or not, because Ultio does not mate for life, his instincts motivate him to form as many connections as possible.

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?: I’m probably more or less shippy, because I like to ship, but I don’t want it to take over my blog or anything, obviously.

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?: David 8/Walter is fun right now, but Hudson/Hicks is definitely an old favorite of mine.

Finally, how does one ship with you?: Just ask me about it! I’ll be glad to talk it over. :)

TAGGED BY: I snatched it off the tags ;) TAGGING: anyone who’s interested and especially anyone who might be interested in shipping! :)

[deathinthedepthsofspace]

tagged by: stole it from the tags ;) tagging: anyone who’s interested in doing it! :)

▌face claim  •  Xenomorph or Shemar Moore ▌name •   Ultio ▌age •  ??? ▌height • nearly nine feet as a Xenomorph, six feet and five inches as a “human” ▌species  • xenomorph ▌gender  • male ▌birthday •  ??? ▌sun sign • ??? ▌residence •  Agartha, a city drifting in deep space ▌marital status  •  single, but considers himself ‘mated’ to Marlowe and Bourne ▌alignment • chaotic evil ▌drink  •   blood, water

▌food •  meat

▌day or night •  night ▌snacks  • salted meats are Ultio’s favorite treats ▌songs • Apex Predator, OTEP; The Night, Disturbed; So Cold, Breaking Benjamin ▌pet •  humans and androids; Marlowe, Bourne, and Simon ▌color •  black and reds ▌flower • Cosmos atrosanguineus, the Chocolate Cosmos ▌sexuality •  bisexual, pansexual ▌body type • lean muscle as a Xeno, athletic as a “human” ▌eye color •  none as a Xeno, dark brown as a “human” ▌hair color •  none, black as a “human”

[deathinthedepthsofspace]

Bold  the  natural  aesthetics  that  appeal  to / apply  to  your  muse.   Repost,  do  not  reblog.  Feel  free  to  add  any  natural  features  you  see fit!  

fluffy white nimbus clouds.   dark grey cumulonimbus clouds.   rainclouds.   a hurricane.   light spring breeze.   a sherbet-colored sky at sunrise.   hazy yellow skies. deep blue ponds of fresh water.   blankets of sparkling snow.   tornado winds.  monsoon flooding.   rich, orange sunsets.  soft, purple clouds at dusk.  heavy hail.   the rumbling of thunder.   icy sleet.  gentle snowfall. moss-dusted tree bark.   pink sunset clouds.   grey winter skies.  navy blue skies in the daytime.  cool mist in the morning.   leaf-bare trees.   giant ocean waves.   the full moon.  a cracked, dry desert.   rolling hills of prairie grass.   sweeping waves of briny seawater.   rocky, steep ravines.  rippling canyon walls.   spindly, cave stalactites.   creeping, green ivy.   lush canopies of leafy trees.   dense, white fog. a peaceful creek of clear water.   flowering cacti dusted with dew, catching light in the morning sun.   a bubbling, hot pool of volcanic sulfur.   sharp, grey mountainsides.   fossils nestled in chunks of rock.  a white sand beach.   deep imprints of animal tracks in the dirt.  soft, squishy moss.   uniform rows of birch trees in winter.  delicate mushrooms popping up in spring from beneath the decay on the forest floor. tumbleweeds jerking in the faintest wind across the desert landscape. light rain. summer wildfires.  a mixing of hot and cool air before a storm.  silent lightning in the static of summer heat. a windy blizzard. thick flakes of snow tumbling down from the sky. a tree standing alone in a barren, yellow field. a desert of loose sand and tall, orange dunes.   a pure blue sky.  a river of molten rock.   a grove of flowering trees.   twisting, mangled roots sticking up from the muddy ground.  bitter, cold winds.  tumultuous skies of stormy clouds. branches of lightning ripping across the sky.   a foggy swamp.   the tree-bare foothills of a mountain range.   sandy brown cliffsides.   rocky coastlines.   the violent shaking of an earthquake.   the mysterious sound of ethereal trumpets in the sky. the lights of the auroras borealis and australis.  a black sand beach.   a lone tropical island in the reef of shallow,   aqua waters.   underwater volcanic vents.   a herd of migrating mammals. tree branches growing heavy with ripe fruit.   light streaming down through the clouds.   a field of lush grain wading peacefully in the summer breeze.   the sound of insects and frogs teeming in the night.  natural diamonds nestled in coarse desert sands. a frozen lake.

tagged by: @chariotsofthegodsman

tagging: @beartrappcd, @dna-xenomorph, @anshargal, and anyone else who’s interested :)

[deathinthedepthsofspace]

The sensation of being hunted is one that comes instinctively in creatures of the ‘morph variety, but especially to their more intelligent number, the leaps and bounds greater minds such as the Xenomorphs instead of animals like the Neomorphs- and Ultio considers himself a most intelligent example of his breed, growing into an adult and building his own small Hive despite his distance from any of his kin, the absence of Mother’s voice, the absence of any voice but his own and that of the humans he could not ever stop hearing, the machines that whirred within his own brain. It is, of course, now, an advantage, but, then, it was deafening, and he had to hone himself alone, growing smarter.

So he considers himself smart enough to perceive a certain instinctual feeling when he is being hunted, and he is feeling that now, a hot, acrid, creeping feeling of both being watched and being in danger at once- a rare thing for him, indeed, something he barely knows at all. He bares his teeth and lets a hiss forth quietly, spit dribbling in thick lines from his jaws as he slowly turns in pace, tail painting his wake like a sharpened streamer of a blade- he knows this place. It is his home, his Hive. He can defend it- will defend it- if someone has come for him, for them, for His.

Ultio hovers there in place, his tail curled in the air, wiry and stiff-strong, up on the toes of his feet, tense and prepared to move- to pounce or to lunge or to gallop, whatever need be to make the necessary distances or what have you to keep himself, and His Hive safe. He will not allow his humans or his android to be harmed- they are his, and his alone.

[deathinthedepthsofspace]

He is slumbering in his Hive’s core aboard Agartha when he hears it- a distant rumbling, a sound of something docking heavily outside, a sound of an arrival that he did not heed, did not expect nor accept. He slithers to his feet and takes off down the halls, into the vents, scuttling towards the distant, certain hum of something machine, and the nearing, low warmth of something living.

Ultio is aware the vents are not always the best hiding places, and he has found others, so, as he comes closer to the living thing, he descends into the wall, where his body’s shapes make him blend in with pipes and rods and shifting tubes that appear to be one with him- or, rather, him one with them, concealing him easily from sight but allowing him, as well, easier access to his victims when they pass by, with their careless invasions of his territory.

But this new living thing- it smells like something relative to a human, and yet not, and is certainly no synthetic. No, Ultio has long since grown used to the acrid-milk smell of them, the chemical scent they leave in streaks everywhere they go, poisoning the air- this smells different, alive and strange, almost foreign, even, a strange proposition to a Xenomorph that has never met a single thing that confused him.

And so he waits there, melted into the shadows, his dark armor a cloak of the artificial night as he listens both outwardly and inwardly, a mind equally as odd as its carrier drawing nearer... nearer...

[deathinthedepthsofspace]

■ VILLAINOUS ATTRIBUTES

aggressive | callous | cannibal | careless | compulsive | cowardly | domineering | envious | greedy | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | murderer | obsessive | over-critical | over-emotional | patronizing | sarcastic | self-indulgent | serial killer | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unclean | unpredictable | untidy | vain | vengeful

tagged by: @chariotsofthegodsman

tagging: @beartrappcd, @dna-xenomorph, @bughunts, @youthfeared, @anshargal, and anyone else who is interested!

[thesixth-pulsar]

ALIEN: COVENANT (2017)

render by @the-great-mighty-dick

[deathinthedepthsofspace]

REPOST AND FILL IN THE ANSWERS YOU MOST ASSOCIATE YOUR CHARACTER WITH TO EACH QUESTION.

1. ANIMAL. Scorpion 2. COLOR(S). Black, Grey, Brown 3. MONTH. October 4. SONG. Apex Predator, OTEP 5. NUMBER. 7 6. DAY OR NIGHT.  Night 7. PLANT.  Ivy 8. SMELL.  Metal, Blood, Sweat, Chemicals 9. GEMSTONE. Hematite 10. SEASON. Winter 11. PLACE.  Space, Mineshafts, NYC 12. FOOD. Beef 14. ELEMENT(S). Fire, Earth 15. DRINK. Blood, Water

Tagged by: @chariotsofthegodsman

tagging: @beartrappcd, @bughunts, @dna-xenomorph, and anyone else who is interested :)

[xeno-park-deactivated20190103]

[spacescot]

Like / reblog this if you’re an ALIEN or PROMETHEUS rp blog or your muse has a verse based in that universe and I’ll check out your blog. Looking for new blogs to interact with!

[tenyearcontract]

Reblog if you’re okay with rping shippy stuff without any smut

[synthetik-symphonies]

I am totally cool with this, implied smut is fine too if it’s part of a story..

[deathinthedepthsofspace]

Ultio has never really known before what it’s like to be cold- but here he is, walking around in human skin he’s also never known before, and so it’s not all that surprising that his new body is raising goosebumps across his arms as chills spread through his form in the atmosphere of this icy, remote place that he has found himself, turned into something less defensible than he has ever been before. He eyes the room around him, and then tucks his arms around himself, trying to conserve warmth by huddling in on himself like Bourne and Marlowe would.

“I’m cold.”

He says this sounding like a petulant child- because, on a number of levels, he probably acts like one- his face screwing up into a scowl and his breath fogging the air in front of him. At least that part isn’t new- the air he exhaled has always been misty, has always been too hot for the world he lived in, considering the speed with which his body produces energy from the acid of his blood.

Then, again, he’s lost that production now, and he’s starting to feel a little tired, his stomach rumbling in a way that he doesn’t understand, but guesses might be a symptom of hunger, as the humans he took under his wing back on Agartha called it when they needed him to go hunt down something they could eat, or wanted to go on a supply run, themselves. He feels endangered, existing uncertain of his environment and yet relying on it, like they all do.

Ultio sniffs the air, and is dismayed to find that the issue with that is twofold- firstly, he no longer has his powerful senses, but instead those of a human, failing him in his attempt to figure out where they keep the food at this frozen husk of a base. Secondly, the air is incredibly cold, and it only succeeds in making his nose even icier, inhaling as deeply as many times as he did in his search. He frowns and tucks his arms yet closer, trying to think of something he could ask for to help himself out.

“Do you have any of that… coffee?”

He thinks that’s what it’s called, anyway- a warm brown liquid that the humans would periodically drink for both heat and energy.

[chariotsofthegodsman-archived-d]

Palmer nodded as he brought out a cup for the transformed alien. He was cautious around Ulito, but he figured that communication would be easier now that both sides were human and could communicate what they wanted and needed more easily.

So in some ways Ultio’s transformations were good opportunities for him, but Palmer could also understand the alien’s frustration with being taken out of his powerful body with its armor and claws and acid. Beside the alien’s fearsome natural weapons, a human’s body had to be kind of pathetic. But Ultio still had his natural cunning and intelligence.

“Want a coat to keep you warm?” Palmer had a spare somewhere that he’d be happy to lend to the transformed alien as long as he needed it. “I think it’ll help you.”

[deathinthedepthsofspace]

Ultio is not familiar with humans using the term coat, so he cocks his head, regressing to his instincts from when he was still a Xenomorph- it leaves him looking like one of the humans’ furry canine companions, so he swiftly corrects himself, raising his head back into a normal position.

“I don’t know what a coat is.”

He says this matter of factly, and not embarrassed as he might have been upon first transforming into this softer, more vulnerable form- he is just genuinely unaware of the concept of a coat, outside of the coat of fur that an animal bears when it walks through the cold wind, when it lives in a place that is too harsh for it. Is that what Palmer means? Does he have something that will help Ultio grow a coat, like the primates that walk around on their knuckles instead of their hind legs?

“Is it fur?”

The former Xenomorph wonders this aloud, cocks his head again despite himself, and crooks his fingers into the shirt that he’s wearing, tugging at the fabric and trying to scratch effectively at the places where the cotton is irritating his skin- it is going to take ages to get used to this, after going a lifetime without wearing a single thing on his other body.

“I’ve never had fur before. I don’t want to look like some stupid bear.”

This comes out with only the slightest hint of malice- he hates bears. The large creatures tended to only get in his way every time he found one on the tundra before he became a man instead of an alien, and despite his great and dangerous strength, his sharpened natural weapons, they always proved themselves strong enough to at least put up a bothersome fight.

“I hate bears.”

He tells this, petulant again, to the floor.

[deathinthedepthsofspace]

Tagged by : stole it from the tags ;) Tagging: anyone who’s interested in doing this.

A FACE YOUR MUSE MAKES WHEN HAPPY:

A FACE YOUR MUSE MAKES WHEN SAD:

A FACE YOUR MUSE MAKES WHEN THEY SEE SOMETHING THEY WANT:

A FACE YOUR MUSE MAKES WHEN THEIR BERSERK BUTTON IS PUSHED:

A FACE YOUR MUSE MAKES WHEN THEY SEE SOMEONE THEY DISLIKE:

[deathinthedepthsofspace]

📎, Noir AU

((I would totally do this AU!! I love Noir and that whole aesthetic, as well as how easily it can be connected to the early nineteen hundreds in general. I’m a big sucker for it, especially specifically set in the twenties. :) ))

He’s born in an age of booze and gold, shadows and greys painting the world in the aftermath of the war to end all wars. He watches from the shadows, slowly growing, fed on a diet of dropped party favors and champagne dribbling over too-full rims, as women in flapper skirts dance on tables, and men sip their drinks and watch small fireworks boom in the skies. He recoils from the heat. 

He goes from a snake-like thing hiding in the cracks of the houses he slinks into to a small, cunning creature, lunging along on all fours, tearing into the rich folks’ little pets and letting them think it was the neighbors’ beasts instead. He sows strife and violence and he likes it, slinking between shadowy places. Detectives wander lazily through at his more severe antics, sticks between their teeth, between their lips, producing heat and smoke that he recoils from with dislike, always fleeing faster than he could be discovered when the feelings and the scents reach him. 

He transformers from a small thing into a large one, deadly and swift and unrelenting. He moves in the underbellies of giants that they build for him, roads hanging over other roads, trains roaring overhead and down below. He slinks into the tunnels and hunts down the less fortunate humans living in them, crawls onto the tracks and scurries along them until he can lunge down and collect an unsuspecting passerby. He is the danger in the annals of the infant metropolis that no one can define, perhaps the most grisly killer anyone has ever known.

He is Ultio- he is the vengeance upon them of all that came before, and he is death.

[ripper-detox-101-deactivated201]

Reblog if it's okay for someone to reply to your starters/memes/etc. whether they've been following you for 2 months or 2 minutes.