#or plague doctor knight even
Text
RAVEN KNIGHT RAVEN KNIGHT
#or plague doctor knight even#but event only - booooo!#warhammer#age of sigmar#cities of sigmar#knight#plague doctor
199 notes
·
View notes
Note
12 for the oc ask game
12. An OC you've killed.
I don't actually know if I have a single OC that I actually fully killed. Lots that technically died, lots that did die but are ghosts,,, Don't have any that just die and are dead. oh. wait. Delivery. LMAO.
my one oc who is fully definitely never-coming-back dead:
but for fun here's another one that died and got brought back wrong but its okay bc no one they knew is alive anymore
#tide of consciousness#ask game#oc: delivery#rare hollow knight oc sighting#even rarer hollow knight oc that isnt vi or tack sighting#this art is like 3 years old but i love him. funky void grasshopper#i think i was also going for like a plague doctor look with them#should do more with him theyre cool
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
I wanna draw oni characters with designs based off of abnormalities from lob corp but 1 motivation and 2 I wanna make Olivia plague doctor soooo bad because the idea makes me go crazy especially with making a white knight printing pod design too but it's the latter bit that would be hard as hell and then I'd also have to make Jackie one sin like legally and I don't wanna do that both design wise and character wise because one sin is my bestie
#rat rambles#oni posting#I also think itd be fun to make nikola joshua and ellie the bird trio but thats a bit of a stretch if you dont share my hcs#also because Im not sold on who would be which#like the easy answers are joshua as punishment bird ellie as big bird and nikola as judgement bird but idk if that satisfies me#ohhhh wait I just had a thought#nails as void dream could be neat#hard to design but neat#real bad thing abt all of this is that theres no good fits for the magical girls 😔#olivia is kind of king of greed coded but shes already plague doctor so thats off the table#plus olivia is also queen of hatred coded and even a lil knight of despair coded she's just all of the magical girls a little bit#but yeah I think dr.holland would make a great burrowing heaven if he had a design lol#you see this is why I need to know if hes a dupe donor or not because if hes not than I can just make a hc design for him and if he is he#simply has a design base already and either way I could draw him#but nope he lives in the void where no real clues lie so he shall simply continue to be ignored by me until further notice#anyways uhhh idk banhi and bubbles can be wellcheers or smth
0 notes
Text
bloodborne has everything gay people could possibly want in a video game
- lovecraftian milfs
- werewolves
- mad scientists
- you get to fight a wizard on the rooftop of Dracula's castle
- get to kneel before a sexy vampire lady and become her knight
- get skewered by another sexy vampire lady who holds you close omg,,,
- get to fight big monsters in decrepit cathedrals
- bugs everywhere
- fucked up eye imagery
- moons lookin real suspicious
- get to become an enemy of the Catholic Church
- reject humanity become a slug god
- so so much blood do I even have to say it
- choral vocals in latin everywhere
- body horror and the inherent Horror of having a Body
- have I mentioned the vampires yet
- plague doctors
- women with swords
- plain doll beloved <3
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
some more magical girls au stuff
and also some lore stuff:
– ‘The Echo’ is an immortal entity originated from the first ever echo to be created in that construct that trapped two gods. And now, eons later, this echo is obsessed with keeping a balance between the reincarnating pieces of these gods, and is always seeking out Quiet’s pieces reincarnations so that they always have the power to slay the pieces of the Princess that keep coming back. In this AU, this manifested as him basically making the voices magical girls
– the Echo is attached to a mirror; its shards used to make several hand mirrors he can be on at once and is how he communicates with the voices. Has mild shapeshifting abilities as an inky shadow that usually takes the form of a crow
– the Princesses create dimension bubbles around them ala Madoka Magica that change their surroundings to match their respective themes; they can only be dispersed by either killing the princess or helping them find closure in their stories (Echo conveniently doesn’t tell anyone about the latter option). They’ll always come back when they’re killed tho (often worse), and the cycle can keep going.
– Hero is in community college, studying law (it’s not his passion at all, but his family really wants him to be a lawyer and he can’t disappoint them!!), and often does gigs as a delivery boy for several businesses or other odd jobs. One of the newest magical girls alongside Contrarian – name in this AU is Hiro Capricórnio, and his transformed name is Starling; he has a stars and knight theme, and is able to summon a long, silver, feather that he uses as both a sword and a shield
– my Contra design kinda looks like a vocaloid so I decided he’s an actual superstar in his normal life who goes by the name ‘Contra Jester’ — their shows are always a fun spectacle that mixes in jokes and comedic gags in their musical performance (kinda like an inverse Bo Burnham, but with more lighthearted themes) – his AU name is Carter Thomfoolery (actual birth name) and their transformed name is Lyrical; has a music and clown theme and can summon a lyre that he uses to do all sorts of effects on the people affected
– Oppy is Carter’s agent and a senior magical girl. Doesn’t technically has any credentials to be managing a super star and was caught money laundering before, but hey! as long as he doesn’t try to meddle in their shows, Carter won’t sue them :) — was very concerned when they found out Carter was made a magical girl considering how unpredictable and uncontrollable they already are – AU name is Oscar Wilde and transformed name is Jack of Trades; has a showman/magician theme and can use the cards up his sleeves and his echoing voice to convince others to do what he wants
– Paranoid is a workaholic trying to get into medic school while juggling two part-time jobs and her responsibilities as a magical girl. Is very distrustful of the Echo in her mirror that gives her orders, but is EVEN MORE distrustful of the princesses; one of which is a recurring Nightmare she has only barely managed to defeat a few times. Tries to help/keep an eye on Lyrical and Starling, since she knows how it is to just start this off without much (helpful) guidance – AU name is Pamela Noid, and her transformed name is Little Shrike; has a plague doctor/engineer theme, the suitcase she carries can be opened to all sorts of contraptions that creates toxins and acid-filled bombs or guns, can also produce healing medicine (the pinnacle of “I’m a healer, but–”)
#this AU been spinning in my head at lightning speed y’all#wanna draw more about it BUT BODY TIRED AND FEELIN’ SICK!!#voice of the hero#the narrator#voice of the opportunist#voice of the contrarian#voice of the paranoid#slay the princess#stp voices#Echomirror AU#< how Imma be calling my version of a magical girl au#magical girl au#sal draws#sal rambles#(under the cut)#sketches
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
What Your Dead By Daylight Killer Crush Says About You
The Trapper: You have said the phrase "I can fix him" unironically.
The Wraith: You're always a slut for a good hurt/comfort fic.
The Hillbilly: This is the same as the Wraith but you've also got at least one foot into the monsterfucking community.
The Nurse: You're into breathplay.
The Shape: Your response to the accusation “I bet you think you could fix him” is an indignant “Fix him? Why would I want to fix him? The problems are the whole point!”
The Hag: You are Grim Ghatsby.
The Doctor: You are an escaped Medic main from TF2 and your love of demented authority figures had to go somewhere.
The Huntress: You are so basic I could grind you down to a fine powder and use you to whiten my bedsheets.
The Cannibal: You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of getting your motherfuckin' grub on.
The Nightmare: You know what the acronym DDlg stands for.
The Pig: You're a furry that got trapped in this realm but you don't think Huntress' paper masks can cut it.
The Clown: You think that the phrase "thicc" is too widely used these days.
The Spirit: Either you're really into tsunderes who are almost all tsun and very little dere ooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr [image of schoolgirl Spirit and FBI OPEN UP!]
The Legion: You apply polycule headcanons to friend groups with the same frequency as BHVR applies Bloodpoint rewards to buggy patches.
The Plague: You know what the phrase "Roman shower" means.
The Ghostface: You are the Tumblr Sexyman lover of Dead By Daylight fans.
The Demogorgon: You are incredibly gatekeepy about the term 'monsterfucker' and you think everyone else in this fandom who uses that term is a fraud.
The Oni: You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of revenge and being swole AF.
The Deathslinger: You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of revenge and you want to call an older man Daddy.
The Executioner: You're a monsterfucker but you're not nearly as gatekeepy as Demo lovers.
The Blight: You've uttered the phrase "what that mouth do?" more than once.
The Twins: You just want to settle down with your thick trad wife and raise a child together.
The Trickster: This is just the same thing as the Huntress but for mlm/K-pop stans.
The Nemesis: You believe that any sexual encounter you can walk away from is a waste of time. Also you're a monsterfucker.
The Cenobite: You are so kinky it hurts and that just makes you even more horny.
The Artist: You have uttered the phrase "throat goat" more than once.
The Onryo: You have several paragraphs of copypasta explaining the difference between Sadako and Samara on hand whenever someone accuses you of being a lolicon.
The Dredge: You're a monsterfucker who has ascended beyond any petty adherence to human-like body structure. You are not to be fucked with.
The Mastermind: You are Scott Jund.
The Knight: You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of JOLLY COOPERATION!
#dead by daylight#the trapper#the wraith#the nurse#the shape#the hag dbd#the huntress#the doctor dbd#leatherface#freddy krueger#the pig dbd#the clown dbd#the plague#the legion dbd#the spirit#the oni dbd#the demogorgon#the ghostface#the deathslinger#pyramid head#the blight#the twins dbd#the cenobite#pinhead#the trickster#the nemesis#albert wesker#the artist dbd#the onryō#the onryo
514 notes
·
View notes
Text
1989, four years after the 4th of July Starcourt fireworks.
***
It's Hawkins High class of 1985 Reunion, held at Tina's house and happening around Halloween. Tina has this cool idea of making it a fancy-dress party, but it has to be medieval, spooky and everyone should wear masks. It's a must. This way, there will be a special thrill, a secret, because people haven't actually seen a lot of their ex-classmates since prom 1985.
So why not combine two events with a little twist? It'll be even more exciting.
There are kings and queens, hangmen, princes and princesses, jesters, plague doctors, queens' lovers and kings' mistresses, all the court nobles, ladies-in-waiting and knights, royal kitchen cooks, you name it.
The house is lit, the costumes are gorgeous, there is laughter and music, everyone's drinking champagne dancing and having fun.
A knight, dressed in black armour, whose face is covered by a beautifully made black mask, and hair hidden, comes to the reunion last. He takes a glass of champagne and stands on the staircase looking at the crowd.
A strange guest, indeed. Tina can't remember who that might be, no matter how hard she tries. No-one can recall his name.
Steve Harrington is dressed as a king, of course, a golden crown on his amazing hair and a golden mask on his pretty face. He is laughing and having a great time.
Suddenly there is a lighting bolt striking outside and thunder roars over Hawkins. All the lights go out, people are scared, music stops and there are faint cries and murmurs.
Tina goes to find some candles. When she and a couple of her friends return carrying candlesticks
Faint cries turn into loud terrified yells.
There are four words written on the white wall.
Is it red paint ? .. Or is it crimson blood? ..
You hurt my baby
Steve Harrington is nowhere to be seen, as well as the strange black knight.
***
*The baby is the camaro. Billy never forgot.
Whose blood is on the wall? Is Steve dead? Was the black Knight Billy Hargrove? Is he a ghost or is he alive? Where did Billy take Steve? What is going to happen? Whatever happened to the camaro four years ago?
71 notes
·
View notes
Text
As Above, So Below - Prologue: Annunciation
Prequels: Heaven - Hell - Purgatory
Summary: Burdened by a centuries-long curse, you must follow the path fate has set for you and defeat evil that roams the Earth. You've left everything your heart desires behind to follow this path, and unfortunately, it still isn't enough. Fate has other plans for you, and for your love, Eddie Munson.
Word Count: 6.9k (nice)
Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!OC (Told in 2nd Person POV - you/your)
Warnings/Themes: Violence, Death/Suicide, Torture, Body Horror, Blood, Established Relationship, Romance, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References
Note: Welcome to As Above, So Below, my take on Kas!Eddie fic and a story inspired by Van Helsing (2004). This story has 3 prequels linked above that I highly recommend you read as this story will reference them.
This story is going to be EXTREMELY HEAVY to write, so I will not be putting out a posting schedule. Chapters will get posted as they are completed, however long that takes.
Please keep in mind, although this is an OC fic, our Knight will not be named or have physical descriptions noted. She is of European/Italian-American descent on her father's side. She was raised Roman Catholic, but her beliefs are very loose and you will see why if you read. You are free to imagine her as you wish. But her cultural identity will be referenced in this story, at least at the beginning and the end.
This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.
You can find my masterlist here.
Please do not interact if you are not 18+.
Enjoy!
“Do not be afraid […] for you have found favor with God […] With God, nothing will be impossible.”
— Luke 1:28-37
March 25th, 1986
In your short time on this earth, you had certainly seen a lot. Mysteries of the universe were made known to you, you'd encountered heroes and villains alike—monsters, even—and been to many places, far and wide.
But you could honestly say that you had never set foot in a lair before today.
And, truly, lair was the only word you could use to describe this place.
Vaulted ceilings, marble floors, velvet curtains. There was an elaborate organ set up on a platform and an ominous set of stairs that descended deeper into the ground at the far end of the room.
Eddie would say this looked like something out of a C-list horror movie or a James Bond film.
You were already deep enough as it was; you'd navigated through an abandoned old mansion and the Los Angeles County sewer system just to get here. To anyone else, it would have seemed as though it took some divine intervention to find this place at all, but the divine is what you knew best.
Archbishop Jinette had given you minimal information to stop the evil that was at play. A ritual to bring forth a River of Life that would flood the San Gabriel Valley and kill millions. More importantly, to Jinette at least, it would create a rift in the fabric of reality that would cause a surge of Heavenly Power to flow freely throughout the Earth.
The Church never cared about the details, didn't care if a sacrifice or two came about, as long as their power remained safe. So the Who's and How's and Why's were left up to you. Thankfully your adversary had been careless with the clues he left behind.
You couldn't tell if it was a coincidence or not. Easter was a few days away so a River of Life made sense but surely a ritual that mirrored the ten plagues of Egypt would be more fitting a little closer to Passover.
"Doctor," you called out, your voice echoed through the cavernous room. You gripped your weapon—a nightstick taken off the body of the police officer that had been swarmed by locusts—and ventured forwards. "I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help."
"You are not here to help," a stiff, croaking, disembodied voice reached your ears, filtered through some sort of unseen sound system. "You're here to stop me."
"Stop you from killing anymore innocent people," you explained.
"One remains," the voice replied. "Nine shall die. Nine eternities in doom."
"It will be a lot more than that if you don't stop whatever it is you have planned." You tried to reason with him, but you were met with silence. "Doctor! Doctor Phibes!"
Music suddenly blasted through the sound system and the room went dark, the only source of light came from whatever lay at the bottom of the stairs.
You knew the doctor wasn't done talking, he was just luring you deeper into his web to tip the playing field in his favor. You both knew there was no time to waste, so you walked into the trap willingly, with swift feet and a brave, but possibly foolish, heart.
Below the cavernous lair was an even bigger cavern still; a half-finished room with the same marble floors that suddenly gave way to rock formations and stalagmites and an underground river that offered a steady roar of rushing water. You didn't know where to rest your eyes, there were too many carefully crafted horrors laid out before you.
An altar with a body carefully placed atop it, a series of nine half-melted wax busts, a four-piece jazz band comprised of mechanical figures, a sterile area with a surgical table, and a ragged man who was elbow deep in another person's chest cavity.
A heavy hand clamped on your shoulder and you jumped to find the elusive Doctor Anton Phibes behind you. He was an imposing man who towered above you, his face sallow, waxy, and sagging. His red-rimmed eyes were bright with lively mischief, although his aura was heavy with the infernal stench of death.
You expected him to speak, but he simply tilted his head forward and urged you towards the altar. Not a question or suggestion, but an order.
You quickly weighed the possibility that if you killed him, struck him down, the ritual would simply end. Of course, then came the equally possible outcome that it would only hasten it.
Phibes pushed you the last bit of distance until you fell against the altar table itself and came face to face with the body resting there. You knew a dead body when you saw one, and generally you disagreed when people said they looked as if they were sleeping....this one however...she was peaceful in her eternal rest.
Face was full and serene, plump lips painted a succulent violet, with long, kohl-laden lashes that kissed her blush-dusted cheeks. Her skin was glowing and her long black hair had been fluffed and haloed around her. Her hands were folded below her chest and a lovely bejeweled ring glinted in the light of the candles that flickered from beside her on the altar.
The woman was preserved perfectly. Unnaturally.
"She's beautiful," you muttered.
"My wife," Phibes' voice croaked from beside you. You glanced over your shoulder to find that he had held a cord that ran from a porthole in the side of his neck to a phonograph-like speaker beside him. "My Rose. Taken from me far too soon, stolen from me."
"My God, please help my son," came an echoed mutter from the sterile area across the room. The surgeon had his bloodied hands folded in prayer as they rested on his patient's chest.
"Murdered!" Phibes voice grew louder and wrathful. "Don't cry upon God, Dr. Vesalius. He is on my side."
"And how do you know He's on your side," you questioned and Phibes' eyes cut back to you.
"He led me here," he explained. "Showed me the way in the quest for vengeance. Showed me the key to resurrection for my beloved and eternal life for us both. I plan to move Heaven and Earth to achieve it."
"Who are you to resurrect her?" you asked. "To bring about devastation for your wife? Is that His plan? The death of millions for the life of one?"
"He told me of you too, little Knight," he ignored your question. "It's how I knew to expect your arrival. He told me that you would appear to stop me."
"You're not only here to enact God's plan but to prophesize as well?"
"He said you would be the last step in bringing me back to my beloved Rose."
"So I must die too?"" You shrugged. "I'm the ninth?"
"No," he croaked. "Vesalius. Or rather, his wretched son. You must complete the ritual."
"I could kill you instead."
"Oh, but virtuous little Knight, I'm already dead." He released the cord and lifted his hands to his face. He peeled the waxy flesh and the tufts of hair on his head to reveal a twisted and burnt husk beneath. He was skeletal, barely a visage left; his nasal cavity shook with each labored breath and his exposed jaw clenched every so often.
Phibes inserted the cord into the porthole once again.
"I lost everything," he explained. "I lost my life, my purpose. And just when I thought it was enough, I lost my love too. I asked myself over and over: what was God's plan in taking it all away from me, in the blink of an eye? All at once? When I decided I would do anything—sacrifice anything—just to bring her back, He showed me the path and I took it. Wouldn't you? If you'd lost your love, what wouldn't you do, give, to get them back?"
A bitterness settled deep in your gut.
What did he know? What didn't he know? What was God's plan?
You'd asked yourself this many times over the course of your life, had become desensitized to the constant lack of an answer. Fate was an answer you couldn't stomach anymore.
So you had tried to run from it, only to collide with it instead. Fate cruelly led you to Eddie, and then away from him again...to protect him from the pain that was your damned life.
Yes, you would have done anything for him, even let him go. Love, for you, had to wait so that Fate wouldn't have been tempted to take him away.
Like it had for Phibes and Rose.
As you turned and stared down at Rose again...you felt for them...you truly did.
"Do you know resurrection takes more than just...some fancy ritual?" you asked Phibes. You could hear his feet shuffling closer to you. "It's unpredictable. The soul...the soul needs to be put back together, and by the time they ascend...or descend..."
"Rose was an angel," Phibes interjected and insisted. "My angel. My muse."
"...sometimes it's too late. How long has it been?"
"4 years."
"The ancient Egyptians had it right," you explained. "The Ka, the Ba...the Ahk...to put her back together after this long...would be impossible. Moving Heaven and Earth? More like breaking the walls between them. We could complete this ritual and resurrect her, but even still I don't think she would be whole ever again. She'd never really be your wife."
"And when would I have had to..."
"24 hours...48, maybe?" you offered.
Phibes' eyes slowly shut and he let out a painful hissing noise you could only attribute to a wail, or whatever equivalent his body could produce.
"I'm sorry," you muttered, hoping to provide some sort of balm on his wounded spirit. "But she's in Heaven...waiting for you."
You moved out of the way as Phibes collapsed on the altar and spoke in garbled tones to Rose's body, the cord pulled out of the porthole. Whatever confession in his mind was just for them.
You immediately ran across the cavern to Dr. Vesalius and his son. The surgeon sobbed his thanks to you as you began to work on the younger man. You didn't get the opportunity to heal others often—you were used more as an instrument of destruction than one of renewal—though the capability was always there. You dug deep into the celestial light within you and slowly his wounds knit back together.
Once Lem regained consciousness, Vesalius tugged at the restraints. Another spark of your power severed the chains and set the boy free and before long, father and son scampered up the steps and out of this pit of despair.
Vesalius had grabbed your hand before they had, though.
"Thank you," he said. "You're a hero."
No...you were nothing of the sort.
You walked back to the altar to check on Phibes, only to find his form still as it lay next to his wife.
"Doctor?" you shook him. "Doctor?"
You pushed him onto his side and a knife clattered to the marble floor; you balked at the needle in his arm and a slash in his wrist that lazily dripped...dripped...dripped...
Tubes ran out from the needle and embalming fluid rapidly replaced blood. It hadn't been that long for you to heal Lem had it? Had this always been Phibes' plan if the ritual failed? He was sure that you would be the one...the last step in reuniting him and Rose.
You touched his chest and closed your eyes.
Eight were dead but the first born son lived. The ritual was unsuccessful. The secrets of what really happened would stay buried deep below the city.
You could feel it...the ambient energy stirring around Phibes...slowly leaking from every pore of this mortal prison as his body died and he began his ascent. Anton and his beloved Rose would spend eternity together.
He was a good man, a loving man, led astray...and God was willing to forgive him and let him into Heaven.
You looked around the room again and felt sick.
For all the money that the Catholic Church had, the best they could afford when they sent their attack dog—you—to save the world for the umpteenth time was a crappy roadside motel off the 101.
You were used to uncomfortable plane and train rides, questionable motels and cots shoved into the corners of storage rooms in monasteries and missions when space could be spared.
This was your life though.
You had run from the safety of your Nonna's home when you turned 18 and then again from your little apartment in Hawkins a little over a year ago after Fate finally caught up to you. The next closest thing to...a base of operations, if you could call it that, was a tiny, unkempt bungalow house in a small suburb in Chicago that you barely set foot in because evil reared its ugly head a little too much.
Home was not a luxury you could afford, and even if it was...for you, it wouldn't have been a place, it would have been a person.
So you took comfort after a trying assignment in crappy gas station food and lumpy beds because it reminded you of the home you wish you didn't have to leave behind.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" you exclaimed as you kicked the door to your room open and found an unexpected visitor sitting crosslegged on the bed you hadn't claimed for yourself. He held a stack of palm branches in his hand, a small pile of folded crosses placed neatly beside him.
"Watch the way you talk," he began. "Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth."
"Is it not a little...weird for you to quote the Bible?" you asked.
"I didn't write it," he replied simply.
"Well your boss did." You fell onto the unoccupied bed and sighed. You didn't know if it was just the adrenaline finally wearing off after a successful end to your task—if you could call it successful—or something else. Something within you felt like you were...trapped under water.
"He did not either," he dismissed and went back to folding crosses. "You're planning to visit the cemetery." It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.
"Yes."
"When?"
"Before Easter, if Jinette doesn't have another errand for me to run." You fished a bottle of YooHoo from your bag of snacks and offered one to him. His lips quirked and in a blink, all of the palms were folded into neat crosses and he was on his feet.
"Good." He stared at you blankly, expectantly, and it made you feel claustrophobic.
His presence was greater than what was apparent to the naked eye, and in times like these where he was about to spring something on you, your soul could sense the swell of his being. It never got easier.
"I know this isn't a social call or a job well done for preventing the destruction of the Earth for the hundredth time," you begin and cover your face with your hands. "I'm tired, so if you could please just—"
"You say that a lot," he noted.
"What?"
"That you're tired."
"It happens when you're a human," you retort.
"Then you will do well to listen to me now," he says gravely. You peek through your fingers to look at him. "Something is coming. Something bigger than you've ever encountered before."
"Shit, really?" you asked. "When will I have to go?"
"You won't," he stated with an air of finality. "Or else, you will die."
Your hands fell from your face as your ears started to ring and your pulse pounded in your head.
You'd heard many warnings in the past, throughout your life, from him. Pain, suffering, duty. This was the first time he had ever warned you of your death.
Why now? After all of the other missions you'd been given, after facing Hell on Earth dozens of times...
You always knew it was a possibility...but a guarantee?
"W-when...why...when?"
"Soon."
That was helpful. You couldn't even prepare. It would be sprung on you. The next time you were called into action maybe? Or the time after that?
"So I just...I tell...tell Jinette o-or whatever Bishop that I can—” you stammered and he cut you off.
"This is not something that they will ask you to do," he explained. "This is something you will feel compelled to do. Strongly compelled. But you must heed my warning, young one. For you will perish and damnation will surely await you."
"I don't understand," you squeezed your eyes shut. "Isn't...isn't it already awaiting me? What makes this any different?"
"Because it will hurt. It will destroy you." What would...the task? Or the damnation? There was a rustle of wings and a roar of fire in your ears. "Do not be afraid."
They were words you had never heard from his mouth, but you knew he had said them before.
When you opened your eyes, he was gone, and you were left in the motel room alone.
"Gabriel?" You called for him, like you used to when you were a child and nightmares of monsters and demons plagued you. When you used to look for comfort when your father was off on a quest so similar to your own and your mother had no way to sooth you on her own. "Gabriel!"
March 27th, 1986
You knew from the moment you woke up that morning, something was off. As though you were operating on a different frequency than usual. You felt simultaneously sluggish and as though lightning surged just beneath your skin.
It didn't happen often, if ever really, which is what caused some alarm.
Perhaps when you were much younger and your abilities began to manifest. The holy light within you couldn't be contained by such a young body. It had led to massacres and miracles alike.
You remembered seeing Empire Strikes Back for the first time and feeling a kinship with Luke. "Luminous beings are we, not this cruel matter," a phrase you muttered to yourself often, taking comfort in the Light, when your future could only possibly be shrouded in Darkness.
It had taken years to control it, and you were well past grown now, but somehow you couldn't just shake the feeling that plagued you today. It was as though your fight or flight response was primed and ready, despite no danger in sight.
If Archbishop Jinette was any sort of reliable figure in your life, you would have confided in him. Looked to him for guidance. For help. Instead, you'd sat in his office with him for the past hour as he debriefed and lectured you—reamed you—for your handling of Phibes and the ritual.
"It was, quite frankly, irresponsible," he said for the tenth time. His cassock swished around him as he paced before you. "The number of innocent lives that could have been lost."
You rolled your eyes, fully of the belief that he wouldn't have given a shit about any other lives lost at all. You used to give Jinette—give all of your handlers—the benefit of the doubt, used to believe that they cared about innocents. Maybe they had once, but now it was twisted by the power their positions afforded them.
Once they donned a pectoral cross, guilt no longer affected them. It was only a tool used to bend others to their will.
"How can we rely on you to your duty fully if you take the time to negotiate?" He asked. "If you try to reason with agents of evil?"
"Phibes was not evil. He mentioned that God led him to this path," you interjected, and Jinette stopped in his tracks. "That He led Phibes to the ritual in order to reunite him with his wife."
"They would be reunited in Heaven," Jinette dismissed with a hiss. He turned his judgmental, wet eyes to you and glared pointedly. You knew exactly the warning he was trying to convey and you straightened your shoulders.
"It must have been the devil in disguise. Trickery. You, more than anyone, should know how easy it is to fall for temptation." The burn of his stare became righteous, but it was not what caused you to turn your eyes downward.
Was temptation really so bad if it brought you peace? If it made you feel more whole than you'd ever felt in your life? A year with Eddie and you felt sure in your skin, safe, loved. Was that bad? Did that make you evil?
You had let your pain get the best of you in the moment, but after a few days of clarity...Phibes had been right...
What you wouldn't give right now to be back there? To be anywhere but here?
It was regret.
There was a sharp knock at the office door and Jinette sighed and looked at the clock.
"It is time for Mass," he announced. "Think on your sins and the Lord may offer his forgiveness."
After he vacated the office, you forced yourself to your feet, trudged through the rectory, and into the cathedral where you slid into one of the last pews. You would hardly consider yourself a devout attendee—certainly not as you disassociated through the psalms and readings—but you knew if you missed Mass after your supposed sins, there would be Hell to pay.
"...Jesus knew that his hour had come to pass from this world. He loved his own in this world and he loved them til the end..."
You'd heard this Mass before, the Mass of the Lord's Supper. Not your typical Sunday service, so you couldn’t recite it verbatim, but familiar enough. Your Nonna dragged you to as many masses as she could, in every language offered at the local parish, hoping to spare you of this fate in a way she couldn't spare her son or her husband.
Over the years, her hand shrunk in yours. What was once a healthy, strong hand that guided you became small and weak, shriveled and brittle. Until one day, there was no hand left to hold at all.
"...I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do."
You spotted a group of women further up the aisle. Novitiates, probably. You could sense a tenuous peace about them. One could tell she was being watched and she turned to look at you. She was young, maybe around your age, and her eyes were wide and curious.
You tried to smile at her, encourage her—it was all you could do not to scream, actually—but she rolled her eyes a little and turned back around.
The sound of rustling bodies washed through the Cathedral like a wave as everyone got to their feet—
"Pray my Sisters and Brothers that my sacrifice and yours should be acceptable to God, The Father, Almighty."
—and as you rose, your stomach dropped.
Your body burned.
It felt like a thousand cuts were made along your skin. You gasped for breath but could find no air. Your bones cracked and crunched beneath an invisible weight, and the pressure felt as though your sides would split and your insides spill out through phantom wounds.
You fell to your knees and grasped the back of the pew in front of you. You tried to make a noise, to call for help, but nothing could overcome the rumble of the congregants.
"Lord have Mercy. Christ have Mercy."
The polished wood splintered under your grip before the world went dark.
When your eyes opened, you were met with a muted haze. A dark sky, with clouds that shifted in tandem with the howling wind, sizzled with infernal lightning over and over.
You laid on cold, damp ground. You could feel it seep through your clothes and leech into your skin, deeper and deeper, until it settled uneasily in your bones. An acrimonious rigor that would have overtaken you had you allowed it.
Something deep within your subconscious wanted you to.
You needed to gain control quickly.
Your fingers dug into the thick, unforgiving clay of the earth beneath you, and you pushed yourself upright, only to be met with a chilling sight that made your heart stop in your chest.
His was body was aligned with yours, the soles of his feet just inches away from brushing against you. His skin was pale and smeared with gore, and his ripped clothes belied the true extent of his injuries. He choked on his blood with fit of coughs, too wet for a death rattle. He was practically drowning in his own life's essence.
Eddie Munson lay dying in front of you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
Your mind raced. Was this a vision? A prophecy? The gift of sight had never been one you could tap into before. Why now?
Was this a warning? If you didn't stay on the path He had in store for you, didn't listen to those He tasked to guide you, would this be your future?
You could hear a voice—an ominous, venomous voice—at the very corners of your mind, speaking to Eddie.
They left you behind. Left you to this fate. Left you to me.
What did that mean? You didn't leave Eddie. Not really. A part of you would always be with him.
You struggled and scrambled to get to his side. Your hands were unsure of where to touch him, how you could let him know you would be there without bringing him more pain.
He looked up at you with unseeing eyes.
"Eddie, please, please," you begged. "I'm here, I'm here with you."
His eyes wrenched shut and he cried out, mouth opening in a feral, heartbreaking howl.
To do with you what I please.
You knew it wasn't the Devil's voice. He wouldn't taunt and tease this way. It had to be some other malevolent creature who tried to get an innocent soul in its' clutches.
You closed your eyes and concentrated, tried to pour as much of your light into Eddie as you could, but despite his body being torn open the way that it was, he simply would not receive the help you could give.
You knew you couldn't leave him.
But Eddie was already gone.
And do to you, I shall...
When you came to, mass was over.
The closing hymn, heavy with organ song, rang throughout the cathedral as the procession made its way back up the aisle. You watched as Jinette glared at your prone form, laying on the pew, as he passed, but a light voice offered a distraction.
"Slowly, there you go, wake up," it said. A small, strong hand shook your shoulder then carefully tapped your face. "Sister Margaret went to call an ambulance."
"No," you groaned. "No ambulance. I'm fine." You immediately tried to push yourself upright, but the hands held you down to the pew.
"Don't get up, I don't know if you hit your head."
"I don't think so," you muttered. The pain that had wracked your body was nothing but a memory, a tell tale static that surrounded you, much the same way it would if your foot fell asleep.
You finally got your wits about you and found that your savior was the young woman you spotted earlier. Hell, if she didn't already think you were some creep off the street who'd wandered into the cathedral before...
"You're a part of the Order, right?" she asked disarmingly and pointed down to the small medallion that must have escaped from the confines of your shirt when you collapsed. Your hand immediately went to it and tucked it back into its hiding place; it was a reminder...a shackle. "A Knight of the Holy Order. Mother Superior said to steer clear of you if we ever crossed paths with you. She didn't say much else.
"I never thought I'd see one...just...pass out during mass."
"We're normal people," you sighed. "Not...Gods."
"Saints?"
"Sinners," you clarified and she laughed lightly.
"Yeah, me too" she agreed then frowned again. "Do you feel well enough to sit up?”
"I'm fine, just...tired," you explained and pushed her away from you. "I need to get back..."
"Back home?" she asked eagerly.
"Back to my motel." You got to your feet as the organ music stopped and the last few stragglers left. "Thank you for staying with me..."
"Oh...uh...Mary...Victoria..." she provided her name and you must have made a face. "I'm still working on it. I know I have time. But Victoria was my grandmother's name...so..."
"Well, I think it's a lovely name then," you offered a tight smile and your own name, then shuffled past her to make your escape. "See you around Mary Victoria."
March 30th, 1986
In the days following Holy Thursday, something was still off.
You had woken up the following morning with a sore jaw and a hoarse voice. Sometime later that day, you'd started crying blood. Only for an hour, but there was no controlling it. You were overwhelmed with emotion.
Hopelessness was the most prominent of them all.
You hadn't blacked out again, but something lingered beneath the surface. Given Gabriel's warning, you figured it would be best to lay low.
You knew it was a futile attempt to try and summon Gabriel again; he appeared when he felt like it or when it would best serve God.
The only time you’d ever desperately called for him, as fire almost consumed you and damp earth threatened to bury you alive, it had fallen on indifferent ears. It was then that you realized stories about Guardian Angels were just that: stories.
So instead, you went about your day as you typically would. Unless you were summoned somewhere by the clergy, they generally left you to your own devices. Especially on Holy Days like today.
Your plans for Easter Sunday specifically consisted of visiting the local cemeteries—
You would miss mass at the Cathedral today. Running your hands along the marble headstones and brass nameplates of those long-since-passed-and-forgotten and offering them a thought or two brought you more peace than any prayer or blessing would.
—and getting absolutely hammered.
You weren't a big drinker, really, since you typically were expected to have your wits about you. But it was a Holiday and you were far from home and alone. You made a blind choice at the liquor store on your way back from the cemetery, and it would numb you either to the point of blacking out, or make you give into your temptations to call Eddie.
You'd been thinking about him more lately.
Well...that was a lie, you always thought about him. Thought about calling, about visiting. You knew you couldn't trust yourself, so you did what you could to keep him safe. You skipped the letter M in the phonebook on the off chance he had finally made it out of Hawkins to follow his dream. Made it a point not to drive through Indiana if you could help it.
Maybe you didn't want to help it anymore. Maybe you should...maybe not visit...just call him.
Someone had left behind an honest-to-God glass in your motel room, and after a thorough cleaning, you poured yourself a helping of the nondescript amber liquid. It burned on the way down. Maybe it was a warning about the bad decisions that lay ahead of you.
You'd been tempted to call for his birthday last year, for Christmas...you sent a card. No return address, no name. Just a heart. You hoped he knew it was you because he always said your hearts looked like butts.
Another glass and you stood in front of the nightstand. You stared, transfixed, at the dingy rotary phone as you sipped your drink, savoring the burn this time. As if it had a mind of its own, your hand moved to grab the handset, but it just hovered for a moment.
How would Eddie answer? What would you say? What if it wasn't Eddie at all, what if it was Wayne? What if Wayne told you...that Eddie was spending Easter at a girlfriend's house? What would you do? What could you do? You practically forced him to say that he would wait for you...could you really blame him if he didn't?
Next to the phone was the remote for the television.
You hadn't really left him much hope after all.
You grabbed the remote and mindlessly aimed it behind you to turn the small set on. As it came to life and started bleating a commercial for some local restaurant, you momentarily prayed that it wasn't one of those Biblical epics, like The Greatest Story Ever Told.
Instead, the commercial ended and, as you poured yourself one more glass, the sterile voice of a newscaster reached your ears.
"...currently 68 degrees at the Los Angeles Civic Center. Lovely weather for Easter Sunday. For our top story, we bring you live to our own Robert Gilroy in Roane County, Indiana. Rob?"
You turned in shock and stared, dumbfounded, as the screen flashed to show a severe man in a brown suit. He frowned at the camera while a convoy of cars inched by behind him. You couldn't help but notice plumes of black smoke in the distance and you hoped that it was just a defect with the cheap motel tv.
"Thank you Laura. It's been less than 48 hours since a 7.4 Magnitude Earthquake rocked the quaint town of Hawkins, 80 miles outside of Indianapolis in an event that seismologists are calling a natural disaster of near unprecedented scale."
A wash of colorful stripes rolled across the screen before it showed b-roll of people running and crying, of a team of firefighters desperately trying to extinguish the burning Hawkins Public Library building, that was half rubble anyway, a man in camo bandaging a little girl's leg.
"The death toll now stands at 22, but with hundreds more filling Roane County hospitals and many more still missing, officials expect those numbers to rise."
You immediately dropped your glass and turned back to the phone, fumbling with the rotary dial to input a number you knew by heart.
"Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up." You listened as the ringing went on and on and on. You hung up and dialed again, and you desperately hoped you just got the number wrong. You screamed as it didn't even ring, but blared a taunting busy signal. "No! No! Who are you talking to? Pick up!"
"This is only the latest tragedy to befall this once safe town. Most recently, a string of high school students were killed in a series of ritualistic murders which have been linked to a local Satanic cult known as Hellfire."
Your blood ran cold at the word Hellfire and you refused to look at the television.
There was more b-roll, some chitter chatter saying how the Hellfire boys were always up to no good. How some upstanding students were killed, taken too soon.
Your breathing got heavy, enough that you started becoming lightheaded. The alcohol didn't help at all.
You tried to savor the last few minutes of ignorance as you wrenched your eyes shut, because if you didn't see it. It wasn't real.
"Eddie Munson, the leader of this cult and prime suspect in the murders..."
But you knew. You knew that this was the moment. You knew that this was what Gabriel meant. If you went to Hawkins, if you had to fight for Eddie, you would do it in a heartbeat and you wouldn't stop until you died.
"...has been missing since the earthquake..."
Those seconds that the reporter needed to take his dramatic breath were an eternity, one you would savor. Because it was easier to pretend that the only thing you had to do was just stop yourself from going to Hawkins, stop yourself from being selfish and wrathful, to punish those who would accuse the sweet, dumb, foolish, clumsy, trustworthy innocent love of your life.
It was just easier if you still lived in a world where you didn't have to hear what you knew was coming next.
"...and is presumed dead."
People often mistook the power of heaven to be one of peace, of hope, of new beginnings. And it could be. It usually was. But they forgot that the beginning of one thing was also the end of something else.
Divine retribution, a burning smiting wrath, the like of which had leveled Sodom and Gomorrah, flowed freely with your grief. It was illogical and irrational and inexplicable to any mortal, including you.
You remembered screaming.
Remembered the pain of the bones in your fingers splintering as you dug them into your skull. Your nails cut deep into the flesh of your scalp as you peeled the hair and flesh, as you opened the top of yourself to release the pressure that had suddenly and violently built up in your core.
Glass disintegrated into sand, furniture turned to ash, even the frame of the building began to buckle.
But there was a voice that called your name. A soft, sobbing voice that pulled you back from the edge of whatever precipice you subconsciously teetered on.
"It’ll be ok. I’m here."
You could practically feel arms slither around you, the phantom weight of them pressed into your skin. Dextrous fingers wove together with yours, soothed them, healed them. They caressed your wounds and the broken flesh stitched itself back together.
A cool breath grazed your ear and the screams that ripped from you began to subside. It shushed you and said unascertainable words of comfort as your fury subsided into woe.
"Close your eyes. It'll all go away if you don't look."
"But you're gone," you wept. The tears rolled down your cheeks and over your lips. You sniffled and licked at them; blood, again. "Why?"
There was no answer. You were about to open your eyes, eager to see and not just to feel, but the fingers glided over your face again. Over your cheeks to wipe the blood from them, over your lips to play with the softness of them, then over your eyelids.
Places he liked to kiss...places you wished you could feel lips instead...wished you could know that he was there.
"I'll never really leave. Even if you can't see me. I’m here.”
Every fiber of your being wanted to go, would have walked to Hawkins, run til your feet bled, to find his body. To clear his name. To say goodbye.
To die a most miserable death. Like Phibes and his Rose.
You would leave this world, happily, if it meant you could be by his side. But there was no guarantee. You could toil for a lifetime and hope to join him, and still be denied access to Heaven.
“I’ll be waiting for you. As long as it takes. I’ll be here.”
You heard the lovely whisper of your name, over and over as you sunk to your knees and you curled in on yourself. Every second it faded into the depths of your mind, and you couldn't help but crack your eyes open.
Lightning struck, the firefighters would explain to you later, on a clear day. The building went ablaze and was destroyed, but all the rooms were empty except for yours. The paramedics said it was a miracle you weren't injured. They touched you lightly, almost reverently.
"Hallelujah."
You were alone again.
It was a disquieting procession.
The creatures moved in a way that seemed unnatural, unfamiliar to them. Their feet shuffled across the barren waste and they dragged a hulking beast behind them. It was a large and ominous and twitching thing, and although the formality of this event it felt like a funeral, you knew that you were witnessing a birth instead.
The wings conjured images of Beelzebub...but Asmodeus felt like a more fitting comparison given how familiar you were with the inner workings of its mind.
Thinking of him as Beast or It was wrong. It felt sinewy and astringent. A bite you were reluctant to take.
You bore witness for three days.
It took two to break him, but images would haunt your mind and your heart for eternity. You tried to protect him, tried to undo what was done. You offered him comfort and a place to hide when he desperately needed a break he would never get.
How he had survived it, you would never know? But he was always stronger than you; if not in body, then in spirit. You never lasted long before you were forced to pull him back in. If you had remained, given him a longer rest, you knew you would have broken before he did.
He finally begged for mercy. He finally relinquished his soul.
You would stay beside him. No matter what they did to him. No matter what he did to himself.
They dragged him to their pit to put him back together again, and you forced yourself to watch, to listen, and to pray that every addition and alteration would stick. That he wouldn't have gone through the torture only to perish so close to the end of it.
You wondered where prayers went when they were made in Hell. Did they reach God's ears? Were they intercepted by Lucifer and his court? Or did they just...float in the void of oblivion?
He muttered words, you'd even heard your name escape his lips several times before they filled his mouth with too many teeth to speak.
By the end of the third day, he rose again.
And you sobbed in relief because somehow the sight of him complete, the sight of him rising and blinking and roaring brought you more comfort and warmth and joy than you had ever felt in your cursed existence.
It didn't matter how grim of vision he was. There was a beauty in that too. The beauty existed...simply because he still did.
Whatever they did to him, he was alive, and he would always be your Eddie. And that meant you had a chance to save him.
“When you loved someone, you put their needs before your own. No matter how inconceivable those needs were; no matter how fucked up; no matter how much it made you feel like you were ripping yourself into pieces.”
— Jodi Picoult, The Pact
Special thanks to @big-ope-vibes and @pastel-pillows who can read even though she says she does not. And @fracturedarkness who I am determined to destroy/delight with this story.
Next Chapter: Illumination
#vampire eddie munson#vampire!eddie#kas!eddie#Eddie Munson fic#tw: death#tw: violence#tw: religious themes#stranger things fic#tw: suicide
93 notes
·
View notes
Text
In the ensuing weeks, Westsimster became a landscape of chaos, consumed by flames, smoke, and devastation as King Wilhelm's knights mercilessly raided the city, burning everyone infected with the plague. The numbers of the afflicted had surged to a point where King Wilhelm, in a desperate attempt to rid the disease, ordered The Tower to be locked down. His knights were instructed to burn not only the infected people but also everything they possessed. The streets were now lined with piles of burning bodies, casting a ghastly glow on the once-vibrant city.
Plague doctors, clad in eerie masks, roamed the area, attempting to study the illness. However, the knights, driven by fear and brutality, continued to kill innocent people, tossing them into the fires. The black death was relentless, and if the knights didn't get to you, the plague itself claimed lives within a matter of days. Thousands of Windenburg's citizens perished, marking a dark and tragic chapter in the city's history.
Within the confines of Windenburg Castle, the situation was far from contained. Lady Catherine Carling, one of Cordelia's ladies-in-waiting, succumbed to the black death in her chambers. Plague doctors and knights, astounded by the rapid spread of the disease, witnessed her attendant confirming the grim news. King Wilhelm declared the castle under quarantine, isolating various royals and nobles in different chambers, providing meager supplies of dry foods and root vegetables, with doors boarded up until further notice.
Queen Cordelia, Prince Wilhelm, Augusta, and Lady Rotchford found themselves confined within the east wing of the castle. As they sat around a round table by the fireplace, peering at a small loaf of bread and a bowl of pottage, Prince Wilhelm voiced the frustration prevalent among them. "Why have things turned out this way? And when can we have meat again?" Cordelia responded somberly, "My dear, we have scarce provisions, and meat is a luxury. Make do with what's before you."
While Cordelia faced scarcity, King Wilhelm lived in stark contrast. Quarantining in his opulent bedchambers with his favored mistress, 23-year-old Anne Matthews, he enjoyed access to servants and the finest foods. Adorned in jewels, they seemed oblivious to the plight outside. Garlic vines hung throughout the king's quarters in a feeble attempt to ward off the plague. While Windenburg suffered, King Wilhelm and Anne reveled in indulgence, Anne even assisting Wilhelm in the bath.
As the cold months descended, Windenburg remained gripped by the relentless plague. Matthias, too, had fallen victim to the insidious grasp of the black death. The guard, bearing a solemn expression, approached King Wilhelm with dire news. Matthias's condition had been deteriorating with each passing day. He hesitated before continuing, "Your Grace, I understand your command to burn the infected, but I felt compelled to bring this to your attention as Matthias is your trusted advisor."
Wilhelm, with an icy gaze, turned to the guard and uttered in a grim tone, "Burn him." Without a moment's pause, he began to walk away, leaving the guard to carry out the heartless command. As Wilhelm approached the door, the sounds of a struggle echoed from Matthias's chambers. In a feeble attempt to plead for mercy, Matthias, weakened by the disease, called out, "Your Grace! Please have mercy. After everything I have helped you with over the years, please, sir!" Despite the desperate plea, Wilhelm exited the room without a flicker of emotion, as if the poignant scene had left no impact on his conscience.
On that same fateful morning, Augusta stirred from her slumber in the east wing. Determined to lend a helping hand, she decided to descend the cold stone steps and join Lady Rotchford in preparing breakfast. However, as she walked through the door to Lady Rotchford's room, the scene that unfolded before her was one of immediate shock and dread.
Lady Rotchford lay lifeless on the floor, having seemingly fallen from her bed during the night. Her complexion, once vibrant, now bore the pallor of death, marked by the telltale signs of the plague. Augusta's scream echoed through the castle as she crumpled to the floor in sheer horror. Lady Rotchford, who had been a constant presence in Augusta's life since infancy, now succumbed to the merciless grasp of the black death.
The commotion drew Cordelia and Prince Wilhelm rushing to the scene. Their faces contorted with disbelief, they joined Augusta in the chamber, their collective anguish palpable. Cordelia's shock turned into desperate action as she pounded on the chamber doors, futilely pleading for a response. The thick stone walls remained unyielding.
Defeated, Cordelia sank to the floor alongside Augusta and Prince Wilhelm. The weight of the tragedy pressed upon them, the reality of the plague's presence within the castle becoming ominously clear. In the midst of their grief, Cordelia couldn't shake the haunting thought if Lady Rotchford, confined to her room, had fallen victim to the infection, the black death had infiltrated the very heart of their sanctuary, its invisible menace threatening to engulf them all.
#simsmedieval#royalsims#sims4#windenburg#royal#sims#gameofthrones#thesimsmedieval#royalty#simsstory#simmer#historical sims#royalty sims#sim legacy#sims 4#simblr#sims 4 gameplay#sims 4 cc#sims 4 screenshots#my sims#the sims 4#the sims#showusyoursims#historicalsims#history#historical#historic#ts4 decades challenge#ultimate decades challenge#decades legacy
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
My own Voices designs!! I wanted each of them to have their own distinct color and article of clothing, which was inspired by @bubblybloob’s designs for them. Individual notes below the cut:
Broken: I wanted his outfit to look haggered and worn. At first I was thinking to have his outfit be like a medieval prisoner’s, but I also added elements of friar robes to go along with Tower’s offer of making us a priest for her. I also made his beak chipped and made it that he doesn’t have the lower set of feathers on his wings (Idk what they’re called- primaries and secondaries I think?)
Cheated: I was stuck on Cheated for so long lol I had no idea what I wanted to do for him. I asked a friend for some medieval outfit ideas and eventually he came up with an executioner and I loved it. He is bitter about his death to Razor. He wants to find a way to kill her himself and will do anything to make sure, even consistently sacrificing LQ in order to get more Voices and become more powerful. And there’s the obvious blade theme going on. I’m pretty sure I had a third reason for it that I forgot too 💀 Now that I’m thinking about it, the Razor route actually kinda mirrors the Witch route, but the roles are swapped…
Cold: I wanted him to wear something an assassin would wear, so I just gave him a cloak lol. I thought that would be a little boring, so I made the front of it look like a scarf. Because…….. he’s Cold.
Contrarian: The obvious thing to do was make him a jester, so I did. The top half of his collar and the color are inspired by Sophist because the Party Crashers brainrot never leaves (I’m watching the Vernias Subathon as I’m writing this post) and if you’ve seen even one of his videos- especially a Mario Party one, you’ll know that he and Contrarian have basically the same personality.
Hero: He’s the main guy, and obviously a hero, so I gave him a knight helmet and cape. The color of the helmet feather changes based on what your Chapter II is (ex. his feather will be magenta during Damsel to match Smitten, and it will stay magenta during Burned Grey. Honestly I may change this lmao) and it’s black in the endgame sequence. He also shifts his cape so that the clasp is in the center during the endgame.
Hunted: Hunted has a torn and tattered vest that’s green to help with camouflage. He and Paranoid have the largest eyes, both because they are always on the lookout for a threat, but it’s more obvious for him and his prey nature. He’s the best flier of all the voices- in fact, he honestly might be the only one who can fly.
Opportunist: Sleazy loser car salesman. He’s the most put together (physically) of them all, and uses this clean look to make himself look “professional” so he can weasel his way out of a sticky situation. I might change his yellow to something less bright, I’m not sure if I like it. I just wanted to make sure his color was distinct enough from Hero’s and Skeptic’s.
Paranoid: His hat and shoulder cape are that of a plague doctor’s, since he single-handedly keeps you alive during Nightmare, and even when Hero takes over the Heart Lungs Liver Nerves™ it’s still Paranoid who’s calling the shots that he thinks are the best. He and Hunted have the best self-preservation skills and best survival instincts.
Skeptic: Honestly Skeptic’s personality was hard for me to identify when I first met him, but I view him as someone who’s skepticism comes from a place of curiosity and an itch to learn as much as he can before coming to a definite conclusion. So I gave him a stereotypical detective cape
Smitten: He’s a bard serenading his beloved Princess! His vibrant magenta outfit represents his love for the darling Damsel <3 His outfit was pretty straightforward lmao. Also, his and Opportunist’s chest feathers are meant to resemble an ascot.
Stubborn: Originally I wanted to make him look like a gladiator, but I didn’t want to give him armor so that Hero would feel more distinct from the others. Plus, he just wants an all out brawl where you and your opponent are even, and if he doesn’t believe in traps, I don’t think he’d believe in armor. Because of that, he doesn’t care too much about clothing. A simple sash will do- a red one so that the bloodstains will blend in. He has a scar over his chest and his eye he gained from the fight with the Princess in Chapter I.
#owl draws#slay the princess#stp voices#should I tag all of them?#yeah I will#voice of the broken#voice of the cheated#voice of the cold#voice of the contrarian#voice of the hero#voice of the hunted#voice of the opportunist#voice of the paranoid#voice of the skeptic#voice of the smitten#voice of the stubborn
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Doctors shouldn't be squeamish
Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Pairing: Dante X F!Reader
CW: Blood, injury, almost dying, feinting
Word count: Roughly 1.6K
A/N: You'd gone to Fortuna on the promise of your own practice. Too bad you should have realized that an offer that sounds too good to be true tends to be just that. Hiding in your office as something that you refuse to exist beats down your door expecting to die, only for a knight in shining armor to show up. Well, he's clad in a red leather jacket and you sure as hell don't think he's a knight. Letting him carry you around like a sack of potatoes is a lot better than being made into a human skewer though.
Chapter one
Hunkered down in the small room with the table pressed against the one door you flinch as another scream resounds from just past the thick wood. Followed by a sound that chills you to your bones, animals, and humans don’t make screams like that.
Monsters do.
“There we go young man, that shouldn’t hurt as much.” Opening your forceps and dropping the piece of glass that was embedded in the young boy's hand into the tray. Dabbing at the wound with a gentle smile while his mother watched silently. “You’re being very brave for such a big cut, you don’t need stitches but I think a few butterfly bandages will help.” The boy just smiles as you work, the tears he had come in sporting gone and his mother didn’t seem as tight-lipped as when they first walked into your office.
Giving a small wave goodbye as they left you felt your shoulders slump, you had left the city to get away from parents that didn’t care who plagued your practice. You’d become a doctor to help people, but in the city, it had started to wear you down. As if you couldn’t make a difference and had felt like you were ready to give up.
At least until a man named Sanctus had come into the city for treatment and offered you a smaller place to practice. The castle town of Fortuna, and why would you turn it down? A paid move, a practice that already existed in the town, and an offer to be subsidized by something called the Order of the Sword? It was almost too good to be true.
Cleaning up the examination room, you understood why it was too good to be true. The townsfolk did not like outsiders. At all. In fact, if you hadn’t been invited to the town by the Vicar of said order you doubt anyone would even step inside the office. Or it might have had to do with how you refused to join the Order. You didn’t believe in demons and that wasn’t going to change.
The examination room cleaned up and tossing your disposal gloves in the garbage you ran your fingers through your hair. At least the pair had been sent on their way before the whole town would head into the church for the usual sermon. Chuckling as you just happened to look outside the window of the sitting room to see a flash of white hair.
“Nero must be running late.” Out of everyone in the town you liked the young man, he was rough around the edges and didn’t seem to swallow everything the Order said. He’d been a little on edge when you put a cast around his arm though but maybe that was because Kyrie was with him. She was a pretty young thing and the reason you thought Nero was in the order.
Humming a little tune to yourself as you sat at the reception desk and started to write in the file for the boy and detail the treatment such as it was. The other downside to the town and everyone being in the Order meant you had a hard time getting an administrator to look after your paperwork.
The town was quiet though. In the last six months, you had seen an average of a person a day and it was always for small things. Bumps and minor cuts. Nero has been the most interesting since you left the city.
While you weren’t busy you could have done without the almost weekly visits from the man Agnus. He creeped you out with the way he stared when he thought you weren’t watching, there under the pretense of being a fellow scientist. Except when you asked what he studied he was quiet as hell, muttering when he would leave how he wasn’t wrong.
It was then you heard the screaming and slamming your paper record shut since the Order didn't want electronic records kept. You were at the door in moments looking out into the street as people rushed by. “What’s going on?” You screamed not expecting anyone to answer you.
“He killed him! He killed His Holiness! The man in red!” Holy shit. You feel a stab of panic in your chest at those words. Pulling the door closed and running on autopilot as you head towards what you call your office in the back room, throwing supplies in your bag to head towards the church. You doubt the Vicar is dead but he is probably injured and you are a doctor.
Bag in hand you book it back down the hallway, only to freeze as more screams rend the air just outside your practice's open door. Followed by the sound of meat being skewered. Except it’s not meat. It’s a person being run through by a blade that looks like it’s been attached to a badly made scarecrow. You’ve seen blood before and gaping wounds, it was the nature of your job, but this? This is beyond anything you know how to react to.
Movement just past the intertwined figures and you see more people being cut down. It’s a slaughter.
You run.
You turn on your heels and run back towards your office as the air is filled with screams, the sounds of the dying, and noises you don’t want to think about. Slamming the door shut and dragging your desk across it to hide feeling a wetness as it hits your hands. You’re crying with the tears pouring down your face from the fear coursing through your veins. Exhausted as you drop to the floor and pull your legs to your chest, praying that you won’t share the same fate.
More screams even through the thick wood and you feel a cold sweat breaking out across your skin. What is going on? It’s like you’re in the middle of a nightmare, a small helpless child rocking back and forth and hoping you wake up. Until the sound of scratching comes through the door, something is digging through the wood.
Scrambling on your hands and knees as you try to move away hoping whatever is making the noise leaves you alone. You aren’t that lucky. A much louder sound in the air as the wood of the door splinters and a piece of metal like a cleaver is sticking out, wild laughter rings in the room and you’re certain it’s coming from the thing trying to come through the door. Another slam and you close your eyes as the door explodes into chunks of wood that shatter your desk.
Your body is tense as you expect to feel that chipped piece of metal slice through your body, except it never comes. You hear the laughter violently cut off and the sound of something be sliced. Slowly cracking an eye open to see the scarecrow thing impaled on a sword of a very different style from the one used by the Order.
Opening your other eye and following the edge of the sword to its master. He’s broad in his tight black shirt and wrapped in a red leather coat that makes him seem larger than life. His forearms look bigger than your legs, but what really catches your attention is his face. He’s handsome, like movie handsome and you wonder if maybe this was a crazy movie set instead of real life.
“You’re certainly not what I expected to find in here.” Damn, even his voice sounds dreamy. “Now why would a demon be after someone like you tucked behind a barricade when there’s still lots of people in the street?”
Demon? You have to be having a nightmare. You just have to. “This is just a nightmare, I just need to wake up.” Your voice cracks several times as you move one of your hands to pinch yourself and feel the pain. Shit.
“Sorry Doll. No nightmare even though it might seem like it.” His sword is strapped to his back somehow as he looks down at you still sprawled on the floor like he’s confused by you. A lot more confused than his words let on.
“Whats. What’s going on?” The hysteria is in your voice now as your hands shake while you raise them to your face.
“Demons. Something tells me you might not be a part of this little party.”
“Demons aren’t real!” You’re in full-blown panic mode now as you almost scream it. This can’t be happening. Hiding behind your hands as if you can make it go away.
“Gotta face the facts Doll. Demons are real, and you need to get out of here if you don’t want to end up dead. Can you move?” Something in his tone is making you shake even more as you press the heels of your palms more against your face. “Guess not. Well, can’t be helped.”
You squeal as you’re hefted in the air and thrown over his shoulder before the man whose name you haven’t gotten heads out to the street. “Could you keep it down? I’d rather not drop a pretty lady like yourself if I don’t need to.” You don’t need to worry about making another noise as you take in the carnage around you before the man jumps, actually jumps, to the rooftop with ease.
No.
Instead, the world goes dark. Dante of course gets a kick out of it as he feels you slump and go boneless over his shoulder. “You’re either one hell of an actress or Lady was right and you have nothing to do with the Order. Which paints a bigger question. What’s another part demon like you doing around here? Because you don't seem to be like that boy at all.”
Chapter two
#dante devil may cry#dmc5#dante x reader#dante x you#dmc 4#devil may cry#dante#dante sparda#x reader#twink writes#eventual smut#eventual romance
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tiphereth suppression finally complete babeyyyy
#rat rambles#lisa my beloved <3#her brother also exists ig.#I did it first try too which honestly is a relief it took forever idk how many times I could handle doing all that#which also means that the other two are now ready for their core suppressions which is both exiting and scary#exciting because it means that I can tell alruine to fuck off#scary because red mist boss fight 😔#I have no idea what to expect but tbh I rly cant be any more prepared than I already am#I have all the aleph gear not counting apocalypse bird and white night gear#and I have all the waw gear except for the one waw I havent gotten yet#in fact there's only 4 abnos I havent gotten yet I think and two of those are toold#I might stall a bit by memory repositing until I get those out of the way but I also might not idk#what I am starting to have to think abt tho is the two side bosses I previously mentioned#I do think apocalypse bird might be doable for me rn but white knight is a more tricky story#mostly because quite frankly I dont have 12 employees available to sacrifice to start the fight#I can obviously just make some new throaway guys but still#now setting up apocalypse bird would also be annoying since I currently only have judgement bird in my facility#rly Im just not sure which of my guys can or cant handle either boss#cause I do need the manpower but I also just am not confident that most of the gear my guys have will do them much good#now one thing that may be kind of pointless but I still wanna do is get silent orchestras ego gift on one of my guys#because god damn is that a powerful buff even if white damage isnt that common outside of anbno breaches#it would be fun in the sense that thatd make my girl able to solo any abnos that deal white damage#again its good dont get me wrong its just definitely smth that isnt as widly applicable as youd think#but yeah ideally I dont wanna do another day one reset and I rly do think this could be the run#the only reason I reset my first one rly was because I had gotten bored grinding for gear and also just wanted to finish my abno info#collection easier since there was a shit load of low level abnos I was missing#now the only ''''low level'''' abno Im missing is plague doctor for well. obvious reasons.#so yeah I should be pretty good and done with my info gathering within a session or two#tbh I dont even know what the wellfare meltdown looks like but Im much less scared of it than the boss fights I have up ahead#stinky b is also going to be tricky but Im hoping it wont be too bad
0 notes
Text
Even the Yellow-Green Team are showing their Splatoween spirit by dressing up for the occasion.
I took a headpiece from past or present Splatoween gear and based a costume for each of the characters around that. With the exception of Rider since he already in canon has a full suit of knight armour.
Blazer - devil/demon/imp
Bamboo - jiangshi
Rider - knight
Stealth - plague doctor
#rex's sketches#splatoon#coroika#splatoon manga#corocoro splatoon#splatoon corocoro manga#yellow green team#yellow-green team#yg team#blazer-chan#bamboo chan#rider kun#stealth-kun#splatoween#blazer and bamboo have a Darkstalkers vibe going on with them and that was totally accidental lol
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Round 1 Match 1: Timon VS. Plague Knight
Timon, a wisecrackin' and smug furry who wants nothing but to relax with Pumbaa, a warthog who is commonly shipped with him. Timon even got his own half-sequel focused on his backstory and character arc, including dreams of wanting more than just digging tunnels. Would be tall if he wasn't a meerkat, and could easily be humanized as such.
Plague Knight, a tiny plague doctor gremlin man with two left feet (literally) and very little morals, who enjoys chaos and explosions. Exists originally as an end stage boss, but was given his own campaign, where it was revealed he has secret and genuinely endearing sweet side through a love story. Can be made gay or lesbian thanks to the built-in genderswap feature.
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
Recent visually beautiful and generally watchable Russian fantasy movies
(because I start forgetting they exist at all)
Ironically, all of them are adaptations of books/comics.
I Am Dragon / Он — дракон (2015)
This movie is a very free adaptation of the novel "The Rite" / "Ритуал" by Maryna and Serhiy Dyachenko (Марина и Сергей Дяченко). It's a reinterpreting of an ancient tale about a maiden, a hero and a dragon. I don`t like the novel because it's very postmodern, wracks the typical fairytale plot and hurts my escapist feelings by ugly reality, but the movie is pretty fairytale-ish and nice.
Firstly, it is visually beautiful and represent Slavic pseudo-medieval lore the way it should have always been in Slavic fantasy.
Secondly, as a love story between a monster and a maiden, it has got A PLENTY of tropes I'm usually looking for in Chinese dramas, so I understand very well why it was pretty popular in Asia.
Thirdly, when I said it's visually beautiful I wasn't joking. The main hero is played not by an actor, but by a male model, who is shirtless all the time (and sometimes pantless) and has a very fit and good-looking body. It's something unbelievable that someone in Russia made a movie to please women's eyes! Really, it's insane!
The folk-rock band Мельница wrote an insanely beautiful song "Обряд" (The Rite) for this movie (more matched to the book plot, though), but it was never used as OST, which is a shame. The song is about a black sheep girl, who is denied by society and asks a dragon to come for her and to take her away, because the dragon is denied by this world just like her. You can listen to it here. The band also has a song "Змей" (The Wyrm) (based on Lev Gumilev's poem), which is more accurate to the plot of the movie: the wyrm kidnaps maidens to make them its wives, but they are all dying during the flight; at the end of the song a hero-knight is ready to shoot it in order to stop it. Listen to it here.
It ends with HE, which is better than the book's obscure ending, so it is pleasure for me to rewatch it till these days.
Major Grom: Plague Doctor / Майор Гром: Чумной Доктор (2021)
It is an adaptation of Russian comic series "Major Grom" by Bubble comics. I am traditionally not very happy with the source material, but it is very good reworked to be the screen play of this movie.
It's very beautifully made in terms of director's, cameraman's and screenwriter's work, which is a rare thing for Russian movies. Also, the actors are young and handsome, especially the villain, which is a rare thing not only for Russian movies, but for the current Western movies, too.
It has got a lot of allusions to Russian reality and a lot of beautiful views of Saint Petersburg, the second capital of Russia and one of the most beautiful Russian cities.
And it has got some unusual visual solutions that turn it into a comic it should be.
The plot revolves around a mysterious serial killer (kinda bad Batman), a black sheep police officer and Russian Mark Zuckerberg (kind of). Mark Zuckerberg is the best guy of this movie and I like him a lot! Серёёёёжа! 🧡🧡🧡
This movie wasn't popular in Russia because of political situation in the country by the moment of its release (the both sides found out in there something insulting for them and banned it), but even if it has something like that, I honestly didn't pay attention to it.
It's just a nice blockbuster with a tragic and handsome villain. The villain also has got his own BL-drama (in the comics they are really lovers, it`s as obvious as it could be shown in a Russian comic).
By the way, the villain is hot, insane, ruthless, sensitive and suffering. How does he contain all of this character treats in one personality? you may ask.
He doesn`t. He has dissociative identity disorder, I would answer.
I don`t know if it works by now, but some time ago you could watch this lovely movie on Netflix.
The Master and Margarita / Мастер и Маргарита (2024)
This is a loose adaptation of Russian classical novel "The Master and Margarita" by Mikhail Bulgakov. I genuinely hate this book, but the adaptation reinterprets it, divides it into very interesting layers and makes it understandable and beautiful.
It`s layered, so it will probably be hard to understand what layer are we currently on if you are not familiar with the original story. The first layer is an ugly Soviet reality, the second layer is a plot of the novel that the main hero is writing, a story within a story. The third layer is the insane intertwining of the first two layers.
On the reality layer the Master loses his job and freedom because of friend's denunciation and becomes star-crossed lovers with a married woman. On the novel level he meets devil, who visits Moscow by chance, and the devil gives him and his woman opportunity to live their lives being free from everything that usually tortures people IRL. Somewhere among those layers is a little plot about Jesus and Pontius Pilate.
The movie is visually beautiful. Although it feels pretty anti-Soviet, Soviet visuals of the movie are gorgeous. There were used the Stalin-times concepts of Moscow of the Future, the CGI buildings in frame came from the real architecture projects of those times. The Stalin Empire architecture style and views are typical for Moscow (but as I know, ironically, this all was shot in Saint Petersburg).
It seems to me that this movie is heavily stuffed with visual allusions to the Western works: devil's escort looks like bunch of Pennywises, Margarita is Enchantress from Suicide Squad I, the scene of blood dripping is from Blade I etc. Usually, when I see it in Russian movies, it feels like plagiarism because I can recognize the reference but there is nothing except for these references . But here we have got the plot, so the allusions work as allusions and don`t irritate me.
The movie is dark, disturbing, uncomfortable. It really makes you feel as if you watch devil and his escort marching around you; they ravage, kill and destroy everything and you can only breathlessly, helplessly and in fear watch them. The German actor playing devil is insanely good. He stole the movie and I understand why it should have been named Woland (the devil's name) instead of the current movie's name.
You may want to watch it, because it's very unusual in terms of plot and visuals experience, especially when you are not familiar with the book.
#movies#films#movie recommendation#fantasy movies#blockbuster#movie review#favorite movies#heroes and villains#comics#book adaptations#novels#SDaboutFilms#fairy tales#The Master and Margarita#woland#margarita#Major Grom: Plague Doctor#майор гром#сергей разумовский#sergey razumovsky#major grom#i am dragon#он дракон#риутал#мастер и маргарита#master and margarita#воланд
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Radiance (Hollow Knight)
"The Radiance is one of the few higher beings / gods in Hollow Knight. It was previously the main higher being of the land know known as Hallownest. Then along came The Pale King. The Pale King buried The Radiance’s religious relevance with his own, becoming the knew main higher being of Hallownest. This! is because The Pale King was able to give the bugs thought, and let them have minds of their own instead of being savage beasts.
Also yes, every character in Hollow Knight is a bug. very corruption aligned as well.
Eventually, eons later, The Radiance came back, upset about being replaced. It brought about a mind-controlling plague known as The Infection. This was a mass breakout of a disease in Hallownest, which caused bugs to loose their minds and become obsessed with praising The Radiance. Not to mention the fact that orange sludge / goop drips out of the infected bugs in a really grotesque way. This is MULTIPLE elements of the corruption. Corruption of physical form, Corruption of thought, and religious corruption, as well as general themes of bugs. literally this entire game and franchise revolves around bugs.
The Pale King tries to fight back many times, sacrificing his own children and failing. By the time the player character arrives, The Knight/Ghost, Hallownest is already in a post apocalyptic state of infection, very few bugs with thought and true being remaining."
SCP-049: The Plague Doctor (SCP)
"SCP-049 is a plague doctor who appears human at first, put isn’t. Yeah that mask they wear? Yeah, that’s not a mask. That’s just their face (check their wiki page, there’s a really cool photo of their bone structure). It is implied that they came into existence during The Black Plague era of humanity. They have one goal in life - to eradicate “The Pestilence”, a disease that only they know the existence of, that only they can sense or detect in any way. They have a cure that only they know and can administer - going so far as calling themselves the cure itself. While this might on the surface detract from them being a Corruption Avatar, it’s actually quite the opposite because… the people they claim are sick show absolutely NO signs of illness. They are perfectly healthy people. And the cure isn’t really a cure. Their touch literally kills people and turns them into zombies, which makes them less of the cure they claim to be, and more of a patient zero. If you haven’t read their article, I implore you check it out, it’s not too long of a read, has some awesome photos to aid with world building, and even has some PHENOMENAL voice acting to go with the interview transcripts."
38 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
botslayer
Big Bad Centrist
whimsically-ominously-auspice
“I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar!”
sustainableprinting
Sustainable Printing Co
circleapublishing
Circle A Publishing
kittystargen3
Untitled