DEVILS IN THE DARK, FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE!

[hellgloom]

MUTUALS ONLY • HIGHLY SELECTIVE • LOW ACTIVITY • ADULT THEMES & EXPLICIT CONTENT • HEAVILY CANON DIVERGENT & AU-ORIENTED

Multi-muse blog featuring both canon characters from, and OCs in, mixed media, primarily video games; with a heavy lean in the supernatural, the occult, magic & sorcery, horror elements, versions of Hell, elements of religion & sacrilege, themes of life & death, and related. Centered around Devil May Cry while indulging in crossovers and AUs.

[hellgloom]

Hello, yes, I am actually alive. It's been almost two weeks, right? Nothing is wrong, but I confess that I haven't felt up to being on this blog, so I'm giving myself some time away. I figure it was about time I actually said so, however, so this is my official "I'm alive but not here right now" statement. I'm thinking of potentially going on a sort of hiatus for maybe a month, but I really haven't decided. My mind isn't really on RP for the time being, honestly. But yeah, I just wanted to show some signs of life right now. Thanks for being patient and I hope you're all doing okay!

[pzxce]

congrats u just caught the fearless leader of moo-nychanus🐄

[hellbloom]

The hound of flesh was upon Garrett before he could bolt like the rat he was, somehow torn free from the shadows cloaking him following the smashing of his bow. Cornered, weight pulling him down down down--and the bloody beast would succeed in ripping him from the stoop if he didn't do something, piece together a new plan-- But those fangs, the beast's weight alone, the blood seeping into his leathers and the crush of his bone... And when at last he slipped, it all reminded him so keenly of another dark and stormy night fraught with monsters and knife-like teeth, where the last vestiges of the City's purity and love died in the firelight.

But, oh, rats are stubborn, vicious creatures when they're cornered and have nothing to lose - and no rotting beast was going to snap him up in its jaws. Slippery under even the very best and worst of circumstances. Soaked to the bone and plummeting fast, he reached for the silver knife hidden away in his leathers, grip tight in spite of the rain, and yanked it free - doing the only thing he knew would soften his landing and slashing at its terrible maw before his arm snapped. Putrid blood oozed out of the wound, and only moments before either hit the ground, his arm was freed, if only by the grace of the old gods. He tucked and rolled smooth off at impact, braced and prepared for that at least, stumbling in his skip, his run down flaming corridors and through webs of burning ropes, ignoring the feverish bark of a leashed dog and the confusion of guards easily dodged. His feet barely touched the ground, a panicked animal rushing rushing rushing in any direction it could manage.

He knew better than to potentially lead it back to the clocktower, his arm throbbing wildly despite his best efforts to ignore its sting, his blood no doubt feeding a loose trail a flesh-eating monster would be best at following. Diving into new shadows, the guardhouse of the Auldale bridge over the river looming over him, wrapped snug and safe hidden temporarily in the darkness of her bones. He never stopped moving, never stopped racing to the rush of his own blood, clenching fist and tooth-- He just had to make it to the river. Cutting off his scent trail as quickly as possible was his best and only real bet. He had to--

Garrett slid through the slats of wooden railing, bolting through scaffolding and ripped tarps, billowing steam and improperly stacked crates, only a few feet away from the water's edge. It was right there, he was almost--

[hellgloom]

The fall was painful but not paralyzing. The slash on his muzzle throbbed and stung worse than any injury sustained thus far, but Asche was vehemently resilient, forcing himself from the ground and giving chase before he had even recovered. He nearly lost sight of the man, but a scent trail and drops of fresh blood were foremost before him, guiding him through the chaos and the fire that spread steadily like a plague. Long legs afforded long strides and it looked as if he were bounding through the city, flying fast like a greyhound—and he might have had there not been so many twists and turns to take, so many obstacles to clear, so many dangers to evade.

But the path remained true, the wolf resolute, and in a rare flicker of genius Asche found himself improvising where the path became untraversable for four legs. This cost him proximity, but whatever was lost was almost immediately made up by an agility rarely seen in a beast half decayed, and long legs carried his body far, swiftly, his mind forgetting any and all pains as he was absorbed fully by the excitement of the chase, the thrill of the hunt.

The sound of water in motion touched his brain, something deeply familiar in its primordial nature, matching wildness with wildness; it sent something inside of him, or awakened it, and he leaped. Jaws pried wide, closing in the same instant; a black flapping tail that trailed behind the man's body was caught securely, tasting like fabric, and the weight of Asche's body, combined with sprinting momentum, as it went in a different direction pulled the tail and all with him. It took the man off his feet, threw him off balance, and he was sent tumbling into the water with a hungry, rotting wolf immediately joining him.

Asche was dripping with water that was impure, unclear, and his blood blended with it; but there was human blood added into the mix, and Asche splashed and thrashed madly against limbs that fought him to find the source. He tried catching the bleeding arm in his mouth, snapping away as he blindly, fervently chased the scent in the water, all while attempting to pin the body down, get his weight on it, seize it with his claws.

[alilgayblog]

The Blonde One (2019) - dir. Marco Berger

[empty-sigh]

hearing the way you whimper and beg and cry for me to cum inside while I’m stretching you out god I promise I wouldn’t stop until I breed you

[hellgloom]

Probably going to write just one thing tonight, but. I gotta say three of my idiots are all horny at the same time.

[tianhai03]

im a little late to it but have a dante for dmc1's anniversary 🫶

[mynightdream]

mood: i need sex

[hellgloom]

No context necessary because it speaks for itself.

[lakemojave]

I annoy you so much it makes you wanna have sex with me

[yoshime-audio-blog]

Visit Original Link

You’re Gonna Kill That Girl - The Ramones

[rei-inari]

The lovely devs over at @twoandahalfstudios were kind enough to send me the art of the outfit I got to design for Casper as a KS backer! It came out perfect, I'm so happy I got to support them.

I'm forever thankful I got to be a part of my favorite game (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) If anyone ever draws fanart of him wearing this please feel free to tag me cause I'd love to see it <3

[feral-ballad]

Aria Aber, from Hard Damage; “Rilke and I”

[hellbloom]

Hargraven was unmoved, as if an elder wolf watching over a young pup who didn't know his left paw from his right and wouldn't if it bit him in the ass. Ah, yes, the beast was quite sore about his divine behind potentially missing a chunk out of it over the gumption of a small fry in need of reminding of a few things. The glow lingering in the hollows of his skull glimmered briefly, then flickered and all but died.

A little thing that could not see how easily it could slip through the Stagwolf's branches with ease even now. Was Asche so blinded by his baser pains, his gut, an unsatable hunger and rot clinging to his bones? Perhaps once, he might've forgiven a broken or perhaps damaged will, but curses could be broken too. He'd lingered long and well enough as a Worldwalker to have known best, the Hexbreaker too.

Ah, yes, he had plans for this pathetic, sniveling creature so bereft of... perhaps many things. Comfort, chiefly. Hargraven refused to believe death was truly the solution to his problems - change, metamorphosis, transformation instead.

[ "Enough." ] His branches groaned, and little by little, soon lost their color. Every green leaf or patch of moss faded, a blight of ash and age overtaking his skeletal shape, flakes and chunks shaking off of him with every enduring but rasping breath. [ "This place is not for crumbling apart; It is for rest and respite where none else can be had." ]

And in an instant, the great bones and swaying forest of his body shattered like glass, smog twinkling in the moonlight, the glow of moon- and glaisflowers, and as it cleared away, a great horned wolf sat idly before the dog of rot.

[ "Up, on your paws. You are not so confined, nor as limited as you believe." ]

[hellgloom]

Asche was hardly moved by the rebuke, much less the spectacle. His brain was such a small thing, his mind as simple, and yet he had somehow learned to harbor enmity for the powers that be within it. Be that as it may, he was merely hungry now, and rather than loiter amongst the grass, flowers and foliage, he stood when directed. A slow, lazy ascent, but an ascent all the same. "Eat?" he asked, a glimmer of hope sparking the smallest of flames within. "I want to eat. Where are we going?" he wondered distantly, airily, as though his mind had been here and elsewhere. All the same, he padded without worry toward the other wolf. His gait was slow, matching the tempo at which his brain operated most times.

Never in his life had he seen, or had he remembered seeing, antlers sprouting from a wolf's head, and it was as novel and strange and fascinating to him as it was not. Animal instincts prevailed, however, even in a state of decay, and Asche craned his neck to sniff at the antlered wolf if only to help him form some idea of what he was looking at.

Not a wolf. Many things, and nothing. His head tilted for just a fleeting moment. "Who are you?" he asked then, his projected tone flat yet solemn and frank. "What are you?" Are you the one who did this to me? Are you one of the ones?

[hellbloom]

A rather disasteful roll of the vampire's eyes and a click of his tongue, and Keres shook his head. What beast, no matter the state of its being or hide, would turn down something so precious as a freshly butchered meal, meat still warm and oozing with blood? Itching itself as if the forest surrounds a hundred and fifty yards out hadn't cut out every living thing cawing and screeching within. He found the notion altogether preposterous, beginning to end, but made no move to rectify it just yet. A direct command gone ignored, too, when given.

Perhaps it was not quite subject to the same forces that governed him. He would test it, he supposed, and much else another time.

Keres watched the rotting beast dig its claws into the sore at its neck, blood and pus mingling into one river of fluid, slow-moving in its dribble through mange and patches of fly-bitten flesh. Wretched creature no doubt in need of a bath - one needn't rot without grace - and as he thought, he decided dispassionately to toss the peacock between them in turn, vanishing away the blood on his finger tips. If the beast preferred rancid meat...then-- He took a breath, entertaining this creature for the sake of satisfying his own ends, held out his arm, and snapped his fingers.

One by one did every freshly slain animal begin wriggle and writhe with the passage of time, altered and mangled by the death that'd claimed them, sharp and acrid and writhing with worms and coagulated blood, bones begging to be picked clean. He was blind to their foulest scent, but this dog...

What then would it do?

[hellgloom]

When the scent of death turned pungent, Asche straightened himself to look ahead. The burn of his own torn flesh was a much lesser thing to him than the pangs in his stomach, and his jaws could not help parting when he suddenly rose to his paws. Unconcerned, he trotted to the peacock's carcass, gave it a quick sniff, and opened his mouth to put his teeth in the rotten flesh. Not a hard, certain bite at first, but as the seconds ticked by and his brain absorbed the information fed to it through his palate, he decided that this was right, and it was due. Fangs pierced the leathery hide, stray feathers not even an afterthought, and he bit down for all his worth.

Asche tugged and pulled, holding the bird down with a paw as flesh tore from flesh and a good chunk of it found a new home in his warm, drooling mouth. He ate no differently than any ravenous dog, growling and chewing loudly, teeth clacking as he gorged himself on fungus and fly alike. And when the peacock was almost a skeleton, Asche turned his attention to the next nearest carcass and dug in all over again. In this fashion he downed several small prey, neither remembering nor disturbed by the eyes that watched him.

He was crunching up a crow's wing bone in his mouth when he did finally look up, taking a small breather, and made eye contact with the biped. He had been the one to provide the peacock, and the goose, and...all the other prey lying lifelessly on the ground, Asche supposed. A giver of food was a giver of survival, and so the rotten wolf started to think that the "man" was worth something. Would he have more food to give? Asche supposed it was in his best interest to find out, so he padded forward—just two steps, only two steps, and stilled not far from him with something of an expectant air about his primitive, cautious but curious stance. Licking his chops once, he panted mildly, ghoulish eyes almost aglow in the night.

[y-ureii]