indie selective hell priest from hellraiser || as told by eva
⛧ laws ⛧ about hell priest ⛧ interact ⛧
sideblog: @cenobitesurvivor

titsay
will byers stan first human second
RMH
YOU ARE THE REASON
Xuebing Du

tannertan36
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

shark vs the universe
d e v o n
sheepfilms
Stranger Things
todays bird
One Nice Bug Per Day

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
dirt enthusiast
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

No title available

Andulka
Cosimo Galluzzi
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
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seen from Malaysia
seen from Vietnam
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seen from United Kingdom

seen from Switzerland

seen from United States
seen from Egypt
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seen from Portugal
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@sixthconfiguration
indie selective hell priest from hellraiser || as told by eva
⛧ laws ⛧ about hell priest ⛧ interact ⛧
sideblog: @cenobitesurvivor
"The harshest of weather grows the thickest of skin for the sweetest of fruit."
~Mise-n-abyme
|Artwork: 'Tree Of Dark And Light', Stadium Universale —Valentin Weigel, 1618
MEDIEVAL STARTERS
(disclaimer: the way these are worded are probably not realistic for actual medieval times, but i tried. so some of them are kinda awkward. change up the wording however you need to lol)
❝ you are a prisoner and you will be treated as such. ❞
❝ do not underestimate my power. ❞
❝ just because i am a woman does not mean i cannot fight. ❞
❝ just because i am a woman does not mean i cannot read. ❞
❝ i don’t want to marry him/her. ❞
❝ you know we can’t be together. ❞
❝ we shouldn’t even be talking right now. ❞
❝ i cannot disobey direct orders. ❞
❝ wealth does not equal happiness. ❞
❝ i would like to learn how to read/write. ❞
❝ i made this for you. ❞
❝ i’m traveling to Carcassonne. i would love you to join me. ❞
❝ you have just made a terrible mistake. ❞
❝ what i saw will change me forever. ❞
❝ this food is exquisite. thank you. ❞
❝ you are nothing more than a mistress. ❞
❝ i am only one of his mistresses. ❞
❝ your garden is beautiful. ❞
❝ meet me in the garden at dusk. ❞
❝ i have a message for you. ❞
❝ i received your message. ❞
❝ the king/queen asked to speak to me directly. ❞
❝ you cannot be with someone like me. ❞
❝ i cannot be with someone like you. ❞
❝ don’t let anybody tell you that you are worthless. ❞
❝ you are so lucky to have been born into the family you were. ❞
❝ please keep this a secret. ❞
❝ god spede you. ❞
basstardz:
@sixthconfiguration / sc
Hades is not a benevolent god. When one world bleeds into another, there are necessarily wars for quarry otherwise known as believers. And though his own have always been scarce, he holds onto them firmly. He has no priests, and is not used to respecting those of other gods. So when Leviathan spreads the tendrils of its influence into the human plane, he is the first of the elder gods to claim what’s his.
The creature possesses otherworldly beauty, not rivalling that of Aphrodite but being parallel to it. The Lord of the Dead sees the horrors of the afterlife, many of them not so different from those the Priest offers. But this is his domain, and so he accosts the cross between an angel and a demon first.
“These souls are mine, Priest. You have nothing to gain here.”
A god? They turn towards this unexpected intervention, aware that the mortal - their prize - flees with the box as soon as their attention is elsewhere. Leaving the mortal’s chosen sacrifice to whimper in his chains at their feet. They had wondered when other gods would get territorial, and perhaps it makes sense that the God of the Underworld would strike a claim first.
In the outskirts of their vision, the other cenobites are wary, still as statues as they observe the interaction. And the Priest is very much aware that if Hades decides to strike them down, nobody will interfere. As it should be; should it come to that, the Priest is the only one who should fall. Although, they reflect as they crane their neck to take in the towering form of Hades, I would prefer not to.
“By default, indeed,” their dual voices murmur. “But these particular ones made a deal with Leviathan, willingly gambling what is theirs to give.” Their hands are clasped in front of them, one on top of the other, silently communicating their respect as they add: “It could be seen as an exception, no?”
indie selective colin from hellraiser || as told by eva
⛧ rules ⛧ about colin ⛧ interact ⛧
main blog: @sixthconfiguration
what flavor is your soul?
Vanilla
oh heart of ice and mind of gold, what am I to do with you? you are only good in small amounts, bittersweet fledgling, you are hard for most to swallow. your spirit is strong, your wit is potent, your biting essence drives even the most daring away. but why are you hiding your sweetness? I know within you, you are soft, but humanity has made you bitter. you mask your pain and sorrow with spite and sensibility. you say you do not care about trivial things, but don't you? sweetheart relax. you can let down your drawbridge, the waters are not poisoned. I know you have looked monsters in between the eyes and scoffed at them, but please, relax. you think your armor protects you but it is smothering you slowly. little owlet, when will you learn, words can only get you so far? feelings are what makes this world pulse. do not suppress your feelings. your heart can still thaw my dear. trust.
Tagged by: @flamekeeperbellroc thank you, dear! ❤️
Tagging: @finalgrrrls, @vihilum, @eyeless-smiles and you
Interact with your mutuals.
Send in memes, like and comment on their posts, send them messages. Do NOT always sit there and WAIT for them to message you, first. Sitting and waiting for the other person to make the move leads NO WHERE with each other, because who knows if the OTHER is waiting for you to do the same.
Roleplaying is a partnership, it goes both ways.
You can’t always expect to only get responses to memes and starters without also putting in and doing the same for others, too.
Practice reblog karma. Send in things for your mutuals. Interact with their posts. Show interest.
continued from here || @eyeless-smiles
"So crude."
There's a hint of a smile on their pale lips as they consider his offer. Openly intrigued - after all, what is the point of pretense? Would it frighten him to know that it is inspiration that fills them, rather than bland desire?
They reach out to lightly trace his bottom lip with a flayed fingertip, smearing a streak of blood across - a gentle mark, considering. Then they turn their hand, palm up, demanding:
"Your glasses then, treasure. Give them to me." Their imperious dual voices conjure the echo of church bells in their wake. "Then we shall begin."
The streak of blood against his lower lip is met with a flick of the tip of his tongue across crimson liquid. Relishing in the taste of something otherworldly. Not of the Waking World nor Dreamscape. And the Corinthian hungers for more.
To be taken apart beneath those flayed hands. And to do the same to the Hell Priest in kind.
Their demand however has the Nightmare hesitate. His glasses are as much a part of him as his skin. They belong there. Removing them invites a sense of vulnerability he only comfortably submits to his creator. To openly display the ocular horrors he has been gifted with to torment the living. Outside of that context, it is unnerving.
But the Nightmare complies. Reaching a single hand to pull on the arm of his shades and remove them from his face. Both ocular maws parted slightly and teeth gnashing. He hands the spectacles to the Hell Priest. Watching with careful consideration as to what they will do with them.
They take the glasses, delicately folding them before putting them away - it might appear as if they vanished in thin air, but truly they only rest in the ether.
“They are safe and you will get them back.” A simple reassurance, but perhaps an important one; he seems more attached to them than they first anticipated. But their instincts were accurate. Such delicious vulnerability.
When they next look at him, they expect to see a pair of ordinary eyes to read and play with - only to find -
Teeth
“Ahh-” Their lips part on a reverent inhale as they step forward, reaching out to grasp his chin to tilt his face this way and that- not unkindly, but perhaps their interest has grown an sharp edge. “You are a beautiful dream.”
Never have they ever had a dream in their possession before - even willingly handed over, for a time. And this was far from the usual transaction, the selection of gifts offered in exchange for sacrifice. How long has it been since somebody willingly entrusted themself in their hands, unbound by the box or other hellish traps? Somebody outside of Hell?
They hesitate for a moment only, at how much they wish to inflict upon him, then recall that the boundaries are there all around him, unspoken.
“I shall do nothing that will upset your lord”, they tell them. “You will leave here unmarked - if you wish.” They add the last part with a small smile, then lean in close, so close their breaths mingle. “But you will remember everything.”
Their hand move to hold the side of their face with terrible tenderness as they look deeply into the darkness between the teeth.
“Are you ready?”
All around them there’s the faint metallic rattle of chains from the shadows, as if in anticipation.
PLOTTING CALL
Smash that 🖤 and I’ll jump into your DMs to plot.
Verse launch
Something has happened; be it through a coup in Hell or another outside influence, but the Priest find themself stripped of power - most of it - and reverted back to human.
They... he... remember everything. And he’s pissed off, frightened and very, very curious about this new modern age.
Like this post for a starter with Mikulás.
And if you want to plot something out, feel free to send a DM.
>> read more about the alchemist here <<
indie selective colin from hellraiser || as told by eva
⛧ rules ⛧ about colin ⛧ interact ⛧
main blog: @sixthconfiguration
Verse launch
Something has happened; be it through a coup in Hell or another outside influence, but the Priest find themself stripped of power - most of it - and reverted back to human.
They... he... remember everything. And he’s pissed off, frightened and very, very curious about this new modern age.
Like this post for a starter with Mikulás.
And if you want to plot something out, feel free to send a DM.
>> read more about the alchemist here <<
@sixthconfiguration [ continued from here. ]
Distance is her leverage. Riley has always had a hard time getting close to people. Space granted is a gift. An illusion. They can do anything they want. She’s not under a shield of glass. There’s nothing between her and them but air.
“What did he choose?” She relinquished her gift. Set it at their altar. Curiosity had not abated. The other left alive that day had not been found since. She wanted to see what had been done to him. She wanted to see what he’d asked for.
“The gift, from the box,” her mouth is dry, but her eyes don’t waver from the Hell Priest’s, “what did you give him?”
"Our finest gift." They speak with reverence, dual voices humming. "The Leviathan Configuration."
The Priest moves closer, intrigued by having been sought out by the girl who rejected their favours. Has she changed her mind? The gifts of the Hell is not a standing offer, once discarded they are forfeit.
However...
Her curiosity appeals to them. Another step closer but still plenty of space between them; neither intimidation nor seduction is on their mind at the moment.
“Is your mundane life so unsatisfying?” They stand eerily still now, watching her. “Does it strangle you, not knowing?”
Reblog if your inbox is always open to:
Memeless Asks
Headcanon Asks
IC Anons
OOC Anons
Anything and everything pertaining to your muse and how you depict them.
Meet the Hell Priest as they used to be, back when they were... human.
Drumroll please.
Humble beginnings
Born 1561 into a wealthy family in what is now called the Czech Republic, the Alchemist was the fifth of seven siblings. Wealth or not, the constraint of their sex meant that they were barred from the education they yearned for. The expectations of their heavily religious family, of society and the church, drew arbitrary lines around them, enforced limitations too ridiculous to argue against.
A tragic accident occurred on New Years Eve 1575, when their estate burned to the ground with the family trapped inside. All children perished along with their parents, all except one: Mikulás, the fifteen year old son, miraculously escaped the flames.
The rise of the Alchemist
Mikulás began to show an unexpected interest in the sciences, and in alchemy in particular. He had an aptitude for it that his peers at the university found remarkable, and after scant years of study and research, Mikulás was invited to the court of Rudolf II at the tender age of 23(22) to join his small circle of trusted alchemists.
Science was everything to Mikulás. Alchemy and all its mysteries was everything. At the cost of a family of his own, and indeed all other affairs and relationships – which his colleagues were more enthusiastic with – he became, somewhat mockingly, known as the alchemist. A man of pure intellect, so smooth and clean shaven that he appeared like an immortal youth at the age of 26.
‘Are you accusing me of having discovered the very tincture itself, dear friend?’ He might say at that. ‘And selfishly kept the secret of immortality to myself?’
The notion of immortality became an obsession, and his downfall – or ascension, as he might describe it. Through an intriguing puzzle box, a gift from an admirer who wished to remain unknown…
After delivering his rivals to the cenobites’ care, and solving the puzzles with ease, Mikulás chose the Leviathan Configuration.
The Hell Priest does remember their human life. Vaguely, like a dream. Their humble beginnings, unimportant and unworthy. And yet they keep the memory of it with them. Bemused, as one might keep a baby tooth.
Related verses
Back to basics Gods only know how, but your muse (or some outside force or circumstance) turned the Priest back to their human form. Featuring a scientist from the late 1500s coping with modern technology, and the fact that they do not have to subscribe to any gender. How novel.
Do the time warp How on earth did your muse end up in Prague in the late 1500s? The poor dear. At least they have one friend...
Meet the Hell Priest as they used to be, back when they were... human.
Drumroll please.
Humble beginnings
Born 1561 into a wealthy family in what is now called the Czech Republic, the Alchemist was the fifth of seven siblings. Wealth or not, the constraint of their sex meant that they were barred from the education they yearned for. The expectations of their heavily religious family, of society and the church, drew arbitrary lines around them, enforced limitations too ridiculous to argue against.
A tragic accident occurred on New Years Eve 1575, when their estate burned to the ground with the family trapped inside. All children perished along with their parents, all except one: Mikulás, the fifteen year old son, miraculously escaped the flames.
The rise of the Alchemist
Mikulás began to show an unexpected interest in the sciences, and in alchemy in particular. He had an aptitude for it that his peers at the university found remarkable, and after scant years of study and research, Mikulás was invited to the court of Rudolf II at the tender age of 23(22) to join his small circle of trusted alchemists.
Science was everything to Mikulás. Alchemy and all its mysteries was everything. At the cost of a family of his own, and indeed all other affairs and relationships – which his colleagues were more enthusiastic with – he became, somewhat mockingly, known as the alchemist. A man of pure intellect, so smooth and clean shaven that he appeared like an immortal youth at the age of 26.
‘Are you accusing me of having discovered the very tincture itself, dear friend?’ He might say at that. ‘And selfishly kept the secret of immortality to myself?’
The notion of immortality became an obsession, and his downfall – or ascension, as he might describe it. Through an intriguing puzzle box, a gift from an admirer who wished to remain unknown…
After delivering his rivals to the cenobites’ care, and solving the puzzles with ease, Mikulás chose the Leviathan Configuration.
The Hell Priest does remember their human life. Vaguely, like a dream. Their humble beginnings, unimportant and unworthy. And yet they keep the memory of it with them. Bemused, as one might keep a baby tooth.
Related verses
Back to basics Gods only know how, but your muse (or some outside force or circumstance) turned the Priest back to their human form. Featuring a scientist from the late 1500s coping with modern technology, and the fact that they do not have to subscribe to any gender. How novel.
Do the time warp How on earth did your muse end up in Prague in the late 1500s? The poor dear. At least they have one friend...
Send ⛈️ to be stuck with my muse during a thunder storm in a cabin in the woods.