#{{outofbloodboon}}

[luminaryofblood]

God, I feel like I'm falling behind on responses...

Things have been incredibly busy; between work, and looking into possibly moving -- though at this point it will be a definite -- gathering boxes but not really having time to pack due to work.

TLDR: I have been super duper busy. If I do owe anyone any replies, I am very sorry for having kept you waiting. 😓

[luminaryofblood]

Literally Mohg in the last post.

[luminaryofblood]

🥊🧸

ANON ASKS -

🥊 - I will protect you.

🧸 - I will genuinely start crying if you deactivated off here.

Trying to think...

The only times that I've really deactivated an account of mine, it was due to a lack of activity and a general lack of interest in the muse -- not on my part; I would have happily continued writing with the character! It was just... No one seemed to show any interest in the character.

And that was the Horned King.

The other time was with Ripto. Now, that was around the time when the Spyro Reignited Trilogy came out, so the fandom had gotten a lot of activity, and the muse received a LOT of attention, and I had a LOT of fun with the character.

However... Some drama went down when Crash Team Racing: Nitro-Fueled came out. So, Ripto was originally planned to appear as a playable character in this game; and I was absolutely ecstatic that he'd finally get the chance to be a playable character... I want to say that I'd been playing this game for a good year to the point of being completely burned out from the game. But I kept on playing in the hopes that this character would make it in. In the meantime, I kinda became the butt of the joke in that fandom because of it. Which only made me feel more resent for the game, but more hopeful that this character WOULD make it in.

He never made it in; and the fact was mercilessly rubbed in my face. After a bit of time, I threw up my hands, deleted that blog, and kinda floated around the fandoms until falling into Soulsborne and taking up Gilbert as my first muse.

Other than those two instances, where I deleted the blog, because I didn't feel like there was anything worth keeping around, or because something I used to find enjoyment in kinda got associated with bad memories. OTHER than those two instances, it's not really in my heart to really delete a blog? Like... I haven't had muse for Turbo, or Gothmog, or Bolg for a very long time. Despite that, I couldn't delete their blogs because there's so much stuff on those blogs that I like to look back on! Memories I've made with people who have long since moved on, deactivated...

I couldn't do that with Mohg. Nor could I do that with any of the other blogs prior to Mohg.

As far as my main blog? I feel I'm quite heavily rooted to Tumblr by now. I'm not really sure if there really is anything that would make me deactivate. 😅

If anything DOES happen though; anything at all, Kraken Guard is the name. I'm all over the place; I have a Discord if you want to chat it up there. Just lemme know who you are first. 😅

[luminaryofblood]

Yessssssss!

[luminaryofblood]

... Would it be a hot take for me to say that Artorias should have been a Night 2 boss for Heolstor, and Gael should have been a Night 2 boss for Straghess?

[luminaryofblood]

Elden Ring Nightreign AU:

Everything is the same, except Scholar is a second-generation Albinauric.

With, yes, the same outfit, and the same hairdo.

[luminaryofblood]

As another sidenote though, but Harmonia quite literally has Trina's face.

source: https://x.com/Zlofsky2nd/status/2002528018045296894/photo/1 https://x.com/Zlofsky2nd/status/2002534466900894049/photo/1

[luminaryofblood]

The will of the Harmonia, left upon their defeat.

The power of its namesake can be unlocked by performing a relic rite.

A tiny farming village was besieged by bandits, who proceeded to ravage both its plots and people.

A young village girl, seeking help, dashed into the forest, where she prayed to the statue of a protective deity that held a weapon raised overhead.

By the end the village was steeped in red and settled in silence. The village girl, drenched in blood, stood with a vacant stare and a heroic weapon in her grip.

I wonder what that must be like. For the girl. For the villagers. For the bandits.

As the fires scorched the huts and cottages. As men, women and children were hewn down. The little girl, perhaps the sole survive, sneaking away, or perhaps secreted out before the bandits found her.

As she ran through the forest, tears blurring her vision. Until she looked upon the statue, so deep in the forest...

Praying.

Praying for salvation.

Praying that whoever is left alive could be saved.

The bandits have made camp, taking the people of the village captivate, keeping them as slaves. As they stuffed their bellies with food and drink, sharing exaggerated tales of the fights they'd won over the cries of the womenfolk under violation.

The sun had set. Night descended. The bandits continued their revalry. Their debauchery.

There was a scream in the forest.

The bandits dismissed it at first.

But as the night drew on, they noticed some of their own had vanished.

A search party was sent out.

There was the sound of a scream.

They never came back.

They night was long, and full of terror.

A madwoman drenched in red, holding aloft a golden spear came charging from the trees; more like a rabid animal than a warrior.

She charged with spear aloft, howling into the night like a banshee.

Blood was spilt.

None were spared. Neither the bandits. Neither were the villagers. For they all bore witness...