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𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞?

[diavl]

𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥’𝐧ⵑ private & selective multi-muse writing blog, featuring canon & original characters of various source materials. inspired by headcanons & more, but still stands as an original & divergent interpretation in their own form. unaffiliated with fandoms and the community as a whole. 21+. perminate abysmal activity. 

⁽⁰¹⁾ rules. ⁽⁰²⁾ canon, original & more. ⁽⁰³⁾ prompts. ⁽⁰⁴⁾ blogroll.

[gearrscealta]

@ampyr asked; i can feel your eyes on the back of my neck.

sundial prompts

"What of it? I am merely deciding on what angle to strike you from." Oh, to sever the elder god's head from his neck would be an accomplishment like no other. In his own mind, nothing living is capable of weakening Gorr's step; not even the forger of the very necrosword that he held in his unwavering grasp. "You'll fall at my feet, just like the rest. It's only a matter of when, not if."

[diavl]

the god butcher, waste of a minuscule granted life wrapped in pale skin that taste of gnawing starvation &  sweet loss on the tongue of forged bond between stolen creation & creator. the very slayer that spews & snarls in the form of boisterous, threatening remarks like an abandoned & wounded animal left by the all-creator to fend for oneself against the unknown. it’s downright comical, almost laughable one thinks — the way the faithless one grows in self-faith, believing to be enough to be able to strike the elder down as if untouchable to all. as if he was above all or worse, an equal to herself. for what does the alien slayer truly know of pure darkness & endless strength of inborn powers that flow from within by the sired void?

nothing. he knows nothing, not when the great source for this shameful, pride-induced show comes from elder thyself. the first-born, the begotten one of her shamed kindred— wielded like a mere weapon in a child-like grasp. he doesn’t know her sentience, her full obedience to one that brought them into the light-stricken world. she may have granted him a mere fraction of their power, but she can taketh away in her sealed form below. perhaps, it’s time to re-teach the wounded animal a familiar lesson that they only know. yes, it seems wickedly so.

crimson filled scerlas lock with solid white, allowing a pregnant pause to birth before painted lips form a suggestion of a smile. ❛ & you believe yourself successful, little one? ❜ a tilt of her head in show as distorted saccharine drips from one’s tongue below. a taunt that sheaths low bait set forth. ❛ will i? you have yet to even act while i still stand. why not now, my slayer? ❜

[loo-nuh-tik]

That’s the voice of Dr. Fareed Bhansali. He’s the personal physician to the deputy prime minister and… 

Interview with the Vampire | 1.06

[diavl]

what would you do for me? — @kingoftheravens, loki & the morningstar.

boldness of young tender flesh among the accursed and unholy (…) recklessness of one’s very own slip of the tongue towards the being of the darkness of all. it is a question that holds the weight of life & death themselves, freedom or damnation for those who seek quick resolutions to complications made from their own bloody accords. yet, they or the children of the universe know not what lies beneath of such dulcet benefits gifted ‘pon veiled (sharpen) digits or voice of soothing temptations — they are the one who has many names, many faces among the stars far & wide with a warning to all whether that be through the woven stories of history &  myth foretold. 

for they are the one known as the djöfull, ljúgari of one’s own tongue. the very namesake that they themselves hold, even if they are opposites & pose no similar souls. how curious, how intriguing (…) the supposed 'god' of lies, yet he is neither a god or a liar of his own! false eyes rake ‘pon his form, features that of young to match & hope to ease the temptation ‘pon the other. a bright smile forms on borrowed lips, everything but niceties & innocence meant for the other.

❛ anything. ❜ false warmth in one’s tone, digits unfolded & held out for the other to hold. not a full lie, but neither does it hold the full truth. won’t you come closer, take and become one with the creator of all? ❛ what do you wish from me? what is it that you truly  seek from me? ❜

[diavl]

you are still a perfect reminder of what all of these scars on my arms are for. — @pecuatas, viktor.

lifeless (…)  desolute & denuded are the halls of the decaying castle ‘pon which life conquered death twice more, birthing life anew into a being crafted in stitches of death & condemning to walk the lands of humanity forevermore. a residence marked with never-ending abandonment by owner long-passed or shunned by all, consuming every nook & cranny in eternal darkness & suffocating the air around it with heavy sadness until the urge to flee becomes whole. yet, it’s the start of something new — a warmth that seems to grow & grow with each passage of time, even if the situation will pass & will falter soon as so. 

the son, last residence is home and with him is a friend in tow. one in shared nature, standing high with no knowledge of its creator or a residence to call its own. perhaps, there’s possible hints or clues for his companion in the halls of his home? a direction pointed from one tortured soul to another from shared notes or books yellowing in places of time that have stilled & frozen once more? or perhaps not. after all, this residency is temporary overall. this sickening union of creation and monster is not meant to be most of all.

soft fingers of borrowed men glide themselves ‘pon delicate paper in hopes not to burn & waste with its electric touch, mishmash hues roaming the dampened pages in hopes of some word or thing sprung forth until the other speaks to break the tightened hold on it so. eyes are casted ‘pon the creation over undead shoulders, letting eyes rake over & land on the markings etched upon fine skin in front view of borrowed vision of deceased men from long ago.

❛ is that so? ❜ false humorous, yet spoken low in hopes to hide the betrayal of a feeling that panges in his borrowed heart. one that has yet to be felt (…) explored in it’s own defying form. oh, how can this be towards another! how can a monster love another ! woe, the abandoned creation be. differentiated hues lock with the others, surrounding skin near eye sockets crinkling in amusement to mask the growing warmth that will inevitably end in sorrow.   ❛ humor me… remind me the meaning of your scars, my friend. ❜

[horroreverent]

@fiinta for the brothers

"You falter from your territory, brother?" rumbled the question from the darkness. Though, Orlok was under no misunderstanding that the other would not notice him within the shadows. The ancient vampire shifted forward from the darkness, claws dragging along the walls as his hulking form emerged like from ink. The light barely reflecting in his dead eyes, he would appear a nightmare to anyone who might not understand exactly what he was.

"To what honor do I owe a visit from my own brethren kin?"

[diavl]

dark presence (… ) all-consuming rage & hunger born anew dipped from the sunken pools of the now-forsaken school of black magik with history long forgotten & time proceeding forevermore. their forces alone that surrounds them, whether in full view or hiding among the shadows of the familiar kin of the night would suffocate & debilitate their next victim with never-ending horror until the time of consumption is placed upon them. & yet, towards the other— it’s a blanket of twisted familiarity, sickening warmth that envelops one’s darken core below. memories that seem to rise & flood, betraying one features above if one was not paying close attention to the other presenting themselves in  their own home (clenching of fists […] pressing of lips). they are brothers, sired & bred by the supernatural residence that resides in this universe alone. they are instruments of death and destruction, scholomance’s proudest students & all they have is themselves left in this world.

attention is tilted upwards, red scerlas meet darken ones before an attempt of a weakened smile takes place ‘pon features below. ❛ I have, dearest brother of mine. ❜ false humor with an even falser affection that coats his tone, a jab to possibly elicit a negative reaction towards the other. yet, it mask the rising concern & tone that dares spill from the sharpen tongue of the lord of them all. the children have become restless, frightened from shared connections with their all-father of darkness . ❛ do you not feel it, elder ? ❜ low, whispered just enough for prying ears not to hear as features harden towards the other. do you not hear the siren’s call from the far shores of the darkness? visions brought forth ‘pon by ancestors from beyond the deepest pits of hell below? ❛ do you not see it? a new prescence has made itself known. it will come for us all soon enough. ❜

[mcflymemes]

"THIS PLACE WILL BECOME YOUR TOMB" BY SLEEP TOKEN PROMPTS *  assorted lines from the album, some slightly reworked to suit a roleplay format, adjust as necessary

call me when they bury bodies underwater.

it's easier to try not to eat.

anything to get me to sleep.

i woke up surrounded.

they know, they don't understand.

i'm trying not to crush into sand.

wash away the blood on my hands.

don't wake me up.

lift me out.

leave nothing left.

take everything.

make me bleed.

give me all that i want.

you know you hypnotize me aways.

i have waited.

i know that you can see that you will be mine.

did you not say we were made for each other?

there is a new intention.

do you like that?

i stumbled into your trap.

i fall into your eyes like a grave.

keep the freak show talk to a careful minimum.

i'll find a different harbor to lay my anchor in.

i'm still full of the love you want.

i reach for you on faith alone.

seems your heart is locked up and i still get the combination wrong.

are you simply waiting to save your love for someone i am not?

maybe you believe that in the end, you will be better off that way.

won't you fall for me?

my insecurities surround me like lions in the den.

i feel like i'm losing touch with what i am again.

i remember why i cannot pretend.

i never think of you and all this screaming silence.

oh god, i wish you were here.

i am yours to the end.

every once in a while something changes.

you're changing me.

it's too late for me, i am altered.

i'm caught up in your design.

i see a different light.

let's talk about chemistry.

i'm dying to melt through to the heart of your molecules.

either way, i'm into it.

i can tell i'm falling further again.

i won't turn away. it's far too late for me.

i am broken into fractions.

it's too late for me.

just take it all.

you just don't feel the same.

you can't recall my name.

i've been left no choice.

don't you see that?

you come crawling back to me, but i'm already on the ground.

we all know the talk is cheap.

you don't wanna be around.

what would you do for me?

i won't repeat what i have said beforehand.

why don't you just say what you wanted to say for once?

you guide me in to safety and silence.

this is the start of something new.

your eyes and your limbs are instruments to pick apart.

let the tides carry you back to me.

my arms are open.

for the time being, i will still avoid my own questions.

you know, i can hold my breath forever.

you are still a perfect reminder of what all of these scars on my arms are for.

if i can hold myself together...

it seems my hell is your high water.

i'll smile through the agony for you.

i will admit my defeat again.

i will accept that i can't pretend we will ever be together.

i can't hold myself together.

i'd give anything to borrow your indifference.

it still makes my blood run cold to remember what they did before.

worry not.

my polite advances won't last for long.

i'd give anything to fall asleep without you lying next to me.

[g33buz]

[diavl]

@karmicgold, viktor.

❛ humor me. ❜  as if this team-up was nothing less of a twisted joke, sadistic fate from both petty ‘mates and beings against their own unioned presence alone. perfect (so to say) with imperfectness, some form of cosmic (word of mouth) with the supernatural — it’s a match made in its own cruel hell. they are nothing alike, nothing that fits & molds to form a potential everlasting bond in tow. nothing, except for being creations of their own distinct creators. crafted, life anew by beings who wanted to play nothing BUT the role of god & yet — abandoned their creations in due course.

unless, it’s different for this cosmic creation? is there a possible chance for him yet? a chance to meet his own?  information is skewed, plucked from the briefest of conversations by this individual in passing with previous ‘mates. one thing could be another, but it doesn’t hurt to … ask, even in briefest of stops from inconveniences that are out of his own realm of control since his creation forevermore. mismatched hues meet pearly whites, pained expression as unchecked levels of high voltage flow through him once more. ❛ do you know your creator? ❜

[qostine]

Where does he end and I begin?