𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗁

𝖭𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖤 𝖨𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳 𝖢𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 𝖨𝖭 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖨𝖬𝖠𝖦𝖤 𝖮𝖥 𝖬𝖠𝖭'𝖲 𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖯𝖠𝖲𝖲𝖨𝖮𝖭.

[vurulent]

𝐕𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 : violent and rapid in it's course; highly malignant. said of a disease. independent and selective "bhaalspawn" of baldur's gate three. planeshopping gloomstalker, infernal hunter. heavily based within southern sudanese folklore of the apeth. otherwise known as the night witch : said to pyschologically and physically consume it's victims until their debts are paid. olu is 30+. written by : baptiste. black. he / they. 25+. guidelines / alt blog .

annointed in the womb by bhaal's bloodied hand. the consequential blessing of their first murder: a twin sister. born to a drow mother that feared them; left to wander the abyssal depths of the underdark.

reared in the wilds to abide and fight as a hookhorror by samesuch peers. a handful of years later, they stumble past the veil of grandmother's lair. the night hag took and made of them an infernal hunter with a promise: "you will be my child until you die."

heavy themes of identity, blood-bound curses and the illusion of choice.

[vurulent]

[soulprompts]

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

i rewatched the etern.als. and then i got thinkin. and now you guys are on the receiving end of more protective prompts, but these little beauties are aimed more for the act of actually saving a life! bon appetit!

DIALOGUE PROMPTS.

“ what the hell were you thinking?! you could’ve been killed! “

“ hey! get away from them! “

“ if you wanna hurt them, you’re going to have to get through me, first. “

“ you underestimate how much you mean to me. i wasn’t about to let them hurt you. and i certainly wasn’t about to let them even consider killing you. “

“ i told you before. i’m not gonna let anything in this world nor the next harm you. “

“ you need to get out of here! go! i’ll buy you some more time! “

“ what are you doing?! i told you, get out of here! now! “

“ get it through your head, i’m not gonna just leave you here! “

“ now’s not the time to play the martyr, got it? you’ve got a good long life ahead of you, and i intend to keep it that way. “

“ you need to go now, okay? don’t worry. i’ve got this. they’ll want to be trying a lot harder if they want to keep me from protecting you. “

“ don’t worry about me; are YOU okay? “

“ damnit, [NAME]! i TOLD you not to play the hero! “

“ i can look after myself, you know. but… i do appreciate you stepping in back there. you saved my life. “

“ why are you so invested in keeping me alive? “

“ that was for saving my life. “

“ it’s alright, they’re gone now… are you alright? hey, look at me; are you hurt at all? “

“ are you insane?! run! “

“ were you preoccupied, or did you just really want a dramatic heroic entrance before you saved my ass? “

“ are you okay? “

“ yeah, yeah, i’m okay… are you okay? “

“ hey! why don’t you try picking on someone your own size! “

“ hurry! take my hand! “

“ get in the car! now! “

“ i’m sorry i was late… are you alright? they didn’t hurt you too badly, did they? “

ACTION PROMPTS.

add a “+ REVERSE” to switch the roles around!

[ SHIELD ]:     sender uses their own body to shield the receiver from an attack.

[ EMBRACE ]:     sender quickly wraps the receiver in a protective hug and turns so the sender’s back might take on the brunt of an on-coming attack.

[ SHOVE ]:     seeing the receiver is in immediate danger, the sender runs to them and shoves them out of the line of fire.

[ YANK ]:     seeing the receiver is in immediate danger, the sender hastily grabs them and pulls them against them, out of harm’s way.

[ TACKLE ]:     sender physically tackles the receiver out of the line of fire.

[ THROW ]:     sender throws themselves between the receiver and an on-coming attack, taking on an injury that might have been fatal to the receiver otherwise.

[ DISTRACT ]:     sender causes a distraction to draw the receiver’s attacker/s away from them.

[ FIGHT ]:     just as the receiver is about to be attacked, the sender arrives suddenly and begins to physically fight off their assailant.

[ CATCH ]:     sender manages to intervene and catch the falling receiver before they fall to their death.

[ SACRIFICE ]:     sender sacrifices themselves, either fatally or otherwise, in order to save the receiver’s life.

[ HIDE ]:     sender quickly pulls the receiver into a hiding place, hiding them from their pursuers.

[ KILL ]:     sender, seeing the receiver in immediate and intentionally fatal danger, intervenes by killing their assailant before they can kill the receiver.

[ INCAPACITATE ]:     sender, seeing the receiver in immediate danger, intervenes by knocking out their assailant before they can harm the receiver.

[ AFAR ]:     sender, having been watching the receiver’s interactions with a threat from afar, saves them from an impending attack while remaining distant from them.

[ SECRET ]:     sender, having been secretly following the receiver, saves their life from an immediate threat while remaining hidden from the receiver.

[ REVEALED ]:     sender, having been secretly following the receiver, reveals themselves in the process of saving the receiver’s life from an unexpected threat.

[ REUNION ]:     after spending a considerable length of time apart, the sender reunites with the receiver after saving their life from an immediate and potentially lethal threat.

[ KISS ]:     after having been saved from immediate danger by the receiver, the sender, in a state of intense emotion and relief, kisses them to express these feelings.

[ HUG ]:     sender, having just saved the receiver’s life, pulls them into a tight hug out of relief and a need to steady and support both themselves and the receiver.

[vurulent]

i want to write here so bad but things have been so hectic!!!! more people should talk to me about dynamics though. all three of yous.

[vurulent]

who would like. to plot. :)

[vurulent]

oluwande

[vurulent]

[vurulent]

"even at the best times i'm out of my mind."

the flex of tendon and muscle in their left hand lent to the give of fatty fibres and muscle; from there the knife coasted from girdle to sternum and steam unfurled with eel-squirming intestine in a localized explosion of viscera. oluwande's hands remain ever steady, head inclined as they dressed the boar in dead of night.

it seemed for a time they did not hear their blood-kin speak; though, it's measured silence in the wake of blade to meat.

"you know," their voice rose above the methodical cut-and-place of sectioned off meat atop open leather, it's lilt punctuated by gore and decades-old practice. "i always subscribed t'the whole fake it 'til you make it philosphy." the glint of the knife's edge played off scant moonlight filtering in above, spindly like veins through the shift of canopy. "you though?" bloodied knuckles nudged up against their chin to prop, the inclination of their head rolled along with the motion to stare up at him from their comfortable perch in the underbrush.

"hah."

eyeshine in the pitch-dark of their allocating shadow; hard to say with the sway of branches above if it was a slithering in their part or the hunter's own. "wound up in the middle of the woods again? feelin' a little lost?" all sinuous muscle as they stood, a re-invigored stare bore down to the pulpy marrow; cut the bone.

"maybe you're still dreaming."

[vurulent]

oluwande routinely wears piercings they've fashioned themself and are very inclined toward bone. the bones, generally, are of infernals they've hunted and slain in avernus and otherwise. they are imbued for luck, but also serve the purpose of masking their presence whilst spelunking in the hells.

it's not a common occurence. but they can craft pieces of this jewlery for anyone they've taken an express interest in and prefer that they remain alive. for whatever reason.

[vurulent]

laying here thinking abt blood witch oluwande plucking at tendon like violin string..... they'd be so amorous w/it. you don't understand the fascination and adoration necessary for being a witch of blood and bonds but i do.

[recitedemise]

There's much to loathe about this miserable place. However, as though monsters and assailants aren't miserable enough, even its copse of flora would crave their blood. She hides anguish and despair. She spins delusion-riled whispers to jolt you in the dark. But Gale, reading, is drawn to the danger as a moth to a flame, and what wizard would he be were he to spurn a genre anyway? Right. Orb raw, half-trembling, he dares its horrors.

He's used to it, anyway. Half-rotting in his skin, he knows his fears. Yet, perhaps it makes it all the better to but gaze unto the caverns to glean study her beauty. She's tragedies and miseries with a genuine desire to ready his grave, but her jewel-freckled boulders prove a vision and a marvel. Hells, even the sussur, all a menace, have grappled his awe. Really. He's dying and he knows it. Every second of every day is a battle for breath. But it makes everything beautiful, leaving his heart's deft roaring but an act of rebellion. And what is he, really, if not some hedonistic corpse-thing that hungers for a rush? Every rumble in these trenches and every murmur in these hollows... That's why when they appear, the shock would — thrill.

He doesn't dare wonder how long they'd been there.

"In my experience," Gale cautiously starts, "few could measure up to the beauty of the Underdark's fungal denizens, but as the myconids have told me, there's one particular growth that'd be better off cauterized. Cultist slavers as it turns out are a rather invasive species."

Was that a joke? How daring. He looks unto his possible assailant and manages — that. Still, Gale's on his guard, pulse spiking beneath his orb where it plunges its teeth. He's sat drearily alone, marrow too blisteringly raw to have wandered farther. It's the sussur bloom again, its blue, drusy glow pulsing right beyond the tower, but where the parting with their magic left his troupe feeling weathered, to Gale, his orb, angered, split his skin. He wonders if they'll fight here, pain lancing up his sinew as the thought of a cantrip. The stranger, however, is all affable rambles and measuring looks. (But there lies danger in beauty, he remembers. The Underdark proves that.) "I may have ended the academic credibility of some of my peers in my time, though I wouldn't exactly consider myself a cold blooded murderer. That said, any respectable scholar would enjoy a chance at procuring new tomes, though I suspect that isn't your reason for joining me."

The petal glows beneath their thumb. Orb throbbing, Gale's hand bleeds at his staff. "Are we respectable?"

[vurulent]

the death rattle of all manner of beasts keened at their ears in the interim; a catalogue they sift through in the lull of their own personable silence. something thorny, spindly, like spider's limbs probing. it was a curious descent of purple coiling down the apple of his cheek that plunged elegantly down. they knew death and the dying well, for their catalogue included the shuddering breath of men, too. a touch of fatigue at the eyes and the light flex of fingers. . . something was terribly wrong with the man that sat before them just on the fringe of where the faint glow of sussur illuminated their hand and arm. traipsing between the blue and vanta-black there was a flicker of eyeshine about their vague bipedal shape. the dream of something stalking one to the grave.

and just like so it ebbed away again. personable. such was the demeanor of an apeth; the tapestries of the dark draped about them like silk. there was the gleam of a lop-sided smile to precede them, a charming snaggle-tooth of a single too-long-incisor. "you know. there's something to be said about the straggler of a pack. old, lame, sick. i'd be careful here." the petal fell away from their calloused fingertips, both arms set at a cross behind them as they half-turned away, to waltz comfortably toward another set of shelves for passing inspection.

"sovereign glut. i knew it's circle too. since i was knee-high." a dusty old tome pulled from the upper most with a rock of their boots from heel to toe. mismatched eyes peered down as they dusted it's cover. "there are duergar parasites, kicking up a fuss, making a mess of things." they licked their bare thumb. the crisp sound of pages turning followed along the whisper of their boots gliding over stone. an apex waltz in and out of his direct field of vision.

they melted away; the creak of leather bounding at the left. they stood adjacent the wizard at a distance, lips pursed with vague interest at the column of the book they'd snatched. "mm. figure i could drop by the emporium in the city if i get a real taste for readin' what's worth readin'." snap! the book shut, set aside so that the gilded claws of their gauntlet could tap against glass pane. skittering about like centipede's legs. "haha. hey, you're pretty funny." a brow lofted up, tugging at the corner of yet more gold flecks of a piercing there. "respectable? t'ut. dunno about all that." tap-tap of a clawed index to their chin, head rolling with the motion of a head-tilt. "you got a lot goin' on. still putting the puzzle pieces together."

all that languid movement, serpentine, came to it's conclusion: standing before him with the slow unfurling of yet another smile. "you're dying, aren't you?" oluwande tilted their chin up, to stare down the slant of their nose past serrated edges of bone piercing whittled away from the ribs of cambion conquests. it all coalesced in the eyes. gateways as it were; the peculiarity of the shock of pale-blue of their left presented itself as unnerving. it's difficult to meet their gaze proper because of it, by the juxtaposition of the earthy brown of the other. they seemed to see him as he presently was and yet still beyond. below the figure of a fork-tongued drow there was the touch of something beyond. the smell of a crypt, or, the slaughterhouse of a hag's den steeped.

"it's none of my business of course. none of this really is. . . but you? your little friends? you've been making your fair share of messes. and i thought i'd ask, real nice, that you keep off from killin' anymore of my friends. the hookhorrors mind their territory. and you been stompin' all over it."

[sootmemes]

SENTENCE STARTERS: LYRICS THAT HIT ME IN THE FEELS [PT. 1] change words as needed ! ctrl + shift + v to paste into the inbox on desktop.

❝ if you choose not to decide you still have made a choice. ❞

❝ we can’t afford to be innocent. ❞

❝ just ‘cause it’s part of a plan doesn’t make it right. ❞

❝ even at the best times I’m out of my mind. ❞

❝ I’m that kind of trouble you know you want to get into. ❞

❝ and when they tell you to give them a smile why don’t you show them how sharp your teeth are ? ❞

❝ my addictive personality finally got the best of me. ❞

❝ I’m just talking but they tell me I’ve been screaming. ❞

❝ this here isn’t singing, it’s just screaming in tune. ❞

❝ I can taste you in my rage. ❞

❝ when you think your wounds are greater a victim can be perpetrator. ❞

❝ I hate this, but push came to shove. ❞

❝ forgive us these smiles on our faces ❞

❝ just picked out an early grave to bury shit; not me, just the weight I’ve been carrying. ❞

❝ maybe in another life we could have done this right, but I guess we’ll never know for sure. ❞

❝ think of all the horrors that I promised you I’d bring. ❞

❝ the only thing I know is it’s easy to miss when you never aim. ❞

❝ i want to know what it’s like to feel wanted for more than something that’s less than dishonest. ❞

❝ there’s a bright side to every wrong thing if you’re looking at me through the right eyes. ❞

❝ even a well lit place can hide salvation. ❞

❝ funny how a fall could feel just like flying when I'm waiting for it to hit me ❞

❝ if we've got no honor then we've got no shame ❞

❝ somehow you slayed your hope, but didn't let yourself know it had died ❞

❝ what would you do if I took this dagger in me and removed it ? ❞

❝ take it out on someone who won't hit you back ❞

❝ say goodbye to your mr. nice guy; you got your wish, he's rotting in hell ❞

❝ maybe I'm a good guy standing on the wrong side; maybe I'm a sweetheart trying to make my own scars ❞

❝ I do this all the time, blending in between the lines of my fiction ❞

❝ I'm feeling pretty empty, this attitude is expensive ❞

❝ paradise waits only for the lonely, the escapist, and the brave ❞

❝ drag me to death, like a lit cigarette ❞

❝ so if I'm honest, I think I'm beginning to question how much I want this ❞

❝ if you know the hunter is coming then you hide or keep on running, because they have slain the gods before. ❞

❝ by the time you figure out the rules I broke I've already won the game ❞

❝ have I done wrong ? am I guilty ? ❞

❝ now would you pray before you twist the knife ? ❞

❝ I'd like to pause, no matter what I pretend, like a pilgrim who learns to transcend; learns to live as if each step was the end. ❞

❝ I was given a name before I was given blood, like you were given your faith before there was made a god. ❞

❝ you say 'please don't ever change' but you don't like me the way I am ❞

❝ the more we think we know about, the greater the unknown ❞

repost of an old meme I created. also here is a playlist based on these prompts ♡

[vurulent]

smells like poison here (:

[vurulent]

today i offer you oluwande side shot. tomorrow? who knows.

[vurulent]

"there are strangers here. they tread our ground and slaughter our kin." click-click. exoskeleton shifts, rattling. the reverb bounded off stony wall; chattering on still air of cavernous bowels. they could hear them through the mycelium too. they knew them long before the leather of their soles touched ground in the tower. only automaton and flora encroached upon that place. what interest, then, would these strangers have in it? oluwande skirted shadow, sinuous muscle unfurling into the quiet where the lower-most floor felt heaviest; sussur blooms leeched all things magic. just at the outermost fringe of electric blue did their eyes fall upon moving bodies; departing from one that still lingered.

just outside the walls of the tower water whispered. henceforth a pattering to breach the lull of it's still surface. fracturing stalactite. all else lay to silence. what could be made of the one that chose to linger: a wizard. first and foremost. from their vantage it was the hands that gave him away. callous-worn from turning of pages and, perhaps, lightning from the tips. what use a wizard may have for the arcane tower made greater sense than a troupe of randoms looking to test their mettle against the turrets only to find dusty tomes, mushrooms, so on.

click-click. the rattle of their horrorhooks to precede their playful jaunt 'round the corner from darker fringe of which they melded. it brought them to stand just on the wizard's peripheral, hip braced against a work table and one hand reaching to pluck a single petal of sussar from the shelf above. "now tell me," their voice carried in an unhurried lilt, a sigh in limited light. but there was something interwoven there - teasing. "when did this place open up for tours?" their weight shifted to the other foot, so that they could lean against the backwall and fix the stranger with a singular loft of their brow.

evident to the trained eye: a drow of sorts. one well-armed and in no mood to create a scene. the perfect image of an observer that had simply caught the wizard alone. "some friends of mine said you've been up to no good… funny. 'cause you strike me as a college professor. less so the cold blooded murderer type." the petal smoothed between thumb and index; their eyes never quite left the face of the yet-to-be-named man.

"the myconids let you pass. why?"

@recitedemise , and what is it that you're looking for?

[vurulent]

[antigeneticsociety]

Hyman Bloom, The Hull, 1952, (detail)