hostiae

[hostiae]

i'm so unorganized over here. i'm trying to figure out how to get caught up/figure out how much i owe.

#ooc. // #i'm a little overwhelmed! #but i'm figuring it out

[hostiae]

[RUINING THE LIVES OF PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT REAL] i am playing. With my touys

#ooc. // #o oops

[hostiae]

trying to finish the rift with 8 hours to spare. but once i get through the rest of it, i have every intention of writing.

#ooc. // #NORMALLY I FINISH THE RIFT EARLY ON #but not this time #i'm doing some killing #and hoping for the best

[hostiae]

hey hey, would you like to —

follow my vampire?

#ooc. // #i'm gonna try to be on here later tonight #to work on drafts #after i run some errands #but this is where i've been lurking the last couple days! #he has all kinds of verses #every fandom i write in #he has a verse

[hostiae]

— our souls were too out of tune, our desires crossed, and our resentments too common and too well watered for the final flowering. [ #DEVOURCR ] independent & selective vampire armand based on the amc adaptation of interview with the vampire and anne rice's novels. heavily headcanon-inspired with verses in DEAD BY DAYLIGHT, SUPERNATURAL, RESIDENT EVIL, BG3 & MORE. 18+ only! minors DNI. WRITTEN BY CYN.

#self promo. // #look an actual #legit promo #come follow the vampire

[hostiae]

hey hey, would you like to —

follow my vampire?

#i'll post his real promo sometime today #but he has verses in pm every fandom i write here #so come harass my vampire #i'll also be on here to work on some drafts later on #probably after a nap

[hostiae]

hey hey, would you like to —

follow my vampire?

#ooc. // #moving armand to his own blog #he has a ton of verses #in pm every fandom i write for here #he has a verse #i'm still working on some of them but it's getting there #i just started classes today and i'm working on some stuff here and on jake #but i thought i'd slide him across the dash

[hostiae]

while compromise made sense towards a bigger purpose — compromise isn't the same as selling your soul. every day under the saviors' roof depleted just a little more of him. it wasn't supposed to be that way. early on, shane saw something to believe in with them. he was a savior, same as the rest of 'em, aligned ( or so he thought ) with their system, their way of doing things. it made sense. before they'd found him, he could barely process life among a group again. the weight of what he lost still heavy, the wedge that had been driven between him and the people he'd tried his damnedest to protect was far wide. he'd never been much of a loner, not before the world collapsed to swarms of the dead. he'd thrived amongst people, a pillar of the community, right? the problem was he saw what needed to be done too soon. he knew how to survive before people were ready to swallow that reality.

there's a part of him that wonders if that's what negan thinks he's doing ( there's another part of him that doesn't give a damn what it is ).

he could say it about a lot of what happened, a lot of what they had to do to survive. hell, he can say it about how brutal they sometimes had to be, because messages weren't taken easy and vulnerabilities were always exploited. but he can't say it about sherry's situation. negan's wives weren't a part of surviving. as far as he was concerned, that was a man that needed to come back down from his fantasies. putting sherry in the situation that he did ( hell, that even dwight had condoned it by giving up ).

their home wasn't supposed to be a prison. and while there's few he'd trust with his thoughts, he can see sherry. they're more alike than not, aren't they? they're both stuck in this damn place, slowly hollowing out. shane's dark eyes narrow in thought, brow furrowing as the seriousness of what she suggested settled in. no matter how much control the sanctuary had, they still had some agency didn't they? even if it cost them. they had it. he'd already had to change so damn much from the start. he wanted to finally feel at ease with the man he was becoming. but lately? he felt at odds all over again.

❝ what's the point of livin' if we're walkin' around like one of the dead, right? ❞ there's a nervousness in the pit of his chest, but adrenaline stirs his blood all the same. it's risky, but if there was one thing he could do, it was take a risk. ❝ a sanctuary's gotta be more than just four walls, it should mean somethin' — and if it doesn't — ❞ his eyes only leave hers for a moment, double checking the room, as if there could be ears or eyes giving them far too much attention. there isn't as far as he sees.

❝ we've gotta find somethin' else, ❞ he's agreeing, gaze snapping back to hers, locking in. ❝ there ain't anything holding me back here, you go, i go. ❞ no, it was half-true. if sherry stayed, that would keep him there.

【❖】  ――――  SHERRY'S  GAZE  REMAINED  FIXED  ON  SHANE,  ABSORBING  HIS  WORDS  WITH  A  HEAVY  HEART.  She  could  sense  the  weight  of  his  burdens,  the  struggle  he  faced  between  survival  and  morality.  In  a  world  where  right  and  wrong  blurred  into  shades  of  gray,  it  was  a  constant  battle  to  hold  onto  one's  humanity.  The  sanctuary  they  once  sought  refuge  in  had  morphed  into  a  prison  of  their  own  making,  each  day  chipping  away  at  their  spirits  until  all  that  remained  was  a  shell  of  who  they  used  to  be.

AS  SHANE  SHARED  HIS  INNER  TURMOIL,  SHERRY  FELT  A  PANG  OF  EMPATHY  FOR  HIM. They  were  two  lost  souls  adrift  in  a  sea  of  chaos,  clinging  onto  fragments  of  their  past  selves  while  navigating  the  treacherous  waters  of  the  present.  His  words  resonated  with  her  own  struggles,  the  gnawing  doubts  and  simmering  anger  that  threatened  to  consume  her  from  within. 

TWO  KINDRED  SPIRITS  AMIDST  THE  CHAOS  WHO  COULD  CHANGE  EVERYTHING  IF  ONLY  THEY  DARED  TO  TAKE  THAT  LEAP  OF  FAITH.  ❝ I  understand,  ❞  Sherry  finally  spoke,  her  voice  carrying  the  weight  of  years  worth  of  pain  and  regret.  ❝  It's  like  we're  walking  a  tightrope,  trying  to  balance  between  survival  and  losing  ourselves  in  the  process.  The  choices  we  make,  the  actions  we  take  -  they  all  shape  us  into  someone  we  hardly  recognize  anymore.  ❞  She  paused,  letting  the  heaviness  of  her  words  settle  in  the  air  between  them.  Despite  the  despair  that  lingered  in  her  heart,  there  was  a  flicker  of  something  else  in  her  eyes  -  a  glimmer  of  resilience,  of  defiance  against  the  cruelty  of  their  reality.  ❝  But  here  we  are,  ❞  she  continued,  her  voice  gaining  a  steely  edge.  ❝  Still  standing,  still  fighting.  Maybe  that's  all  we  can  do  in  this  messed-up  world.  Keep  going,  keep  pushing  back  against  the  darkness,  even  when  it  feels  like  it's  swallowing  us  whole.  Why  do  we  stay  when  we  know  we  don’t  belong?  We  could  just  leave,  you  and  I.   ❞  Sherry  met  Shane's  gaze  head-on  hoping  she  wasn’t  making  a  mistake  in  taking  this  leap  of  faith.

#xxgotthedevilinsidexx #ic. // #s. walsh // ic #s. walsh // main verse

[hostiae]

#ooc. // #i will take all the boops

[hostiae]

#l. auer // aesthetic #very lusca coded

[hostiae]

ultimately, there would be no way out that didn't include violence. armand went over it again and again and not once had it deterred him. eventually, the others would let their masks slip ( they were so thin, almost transparent as it was ). they would bare their fangs at louis and claudia, painted faces menacing as they reveled in bloodlust disguised as justice. he can feel their resentment as if it were tangible, just as he hears what they say when the pair leaves. louis and claudia sadly bound to rules they'd never learned ( convenient that he knows lestat wouldn't have taught them ). he dances around the subject of lestat, holding his knowledge close, his history with the infuriating blonde — the theatre's history — the players here would gleefully kill in his name.

claudia holds much of the responsibility and while armand has more fascination for the child vampire than malice, she's also the one thing in his way. she's much more alike to them than louis is. but the danger is closing in, the threads fraying and armand will count down until they snap. if they do, he tells himself, he won't lose louis. he'll be the hand for him to take. and louis will help usher in a successful curtain call.

he's so relentlessly hungry, it's as if louis has brought that gnawing back to the surface when he'd arrived. he wants the world. to see it, experience it, to indulge in it and while he can impart knowledge as an older vampire, louis could give him life. amber eyes all but plead for him to give into what he wants ( what they both want ). the way he looks back at him, the bite of his lip, even the movement of his hands, it's all observed in silence. he didn't need the mind gift to know that he's mulling it over, that he wants this. but he's justifiably hesitant.

armand's chin tilts up as fingers brush across his jaw, welcoming the touch, a soft breath exhaled. their foreheads touch and armand's hands lift to cup his face in his hands, thumb brushing his cheekbone as he whispers the words that he desperately wants to hear. no, they couldn't remain here, but they don't have to. it's claudia, however, that is still in the way. and armand can see how it tortures him to think of leaving her ( as if it were some cruel abandonment ). armand could ensure that he doesn't have to live with guilt for leaving. any obstacle in their way, he can clear.

❝ benevolent, ❞ he supposes he'd see himself as some kind of monster. and while claudia would never survive on her own, armand doesn't suggest that either. ❝ too often we grow to hate those who've made us. release her — let her have the life you couldn't give her. she'll love you still. but she won't need you. ❞

he remains close, eyes warm, open, studying louis's expression. ❝ think also about what you need. ❞ and let him be a part of that.

this is a dangerous thing. to want. to need. as much as he wants and needs in these moments. he wants to stay. and wants to leave. he needs to stay. and needs to leave. louis knows that there are so many risks in every moment that passes. armand's warnings are not falling upon deaf ears. and, in spite of what armand might want to think he's done, they have become warnings--in their own way. it is very clear that the other vampires here do not welcome them the way armand does. that they seethe in their presence with fake smiles and gnashing teeth once their backs are turned. louis is certain that if they could? they would eliminate them from paris upon first light. and it is armand's hand that stays that desire alone.

yet? for the first time in decades. louis feels hope. hope that there's someone who he feels could give him companionship. brows lift as the thought passes through his mind seemingly in time with the moment it is breathed through armand's lips. harmless front teeth gather a pinch of his own lips between them as they roll between. the younger vampire is thinking. battling with keeping his mind as clear as he can. imagining rows and rows of books and anything he can put inside of his thoughts to attempt to veil what he is thinking from anyone who might want to see.

...that armand can give him all he's been aching for. all he wanted from the one who made him who refused, in all of his self-love and desire to give him the world on his own terms which meant nothing but blind eyes towards how desperate louis was to have him the way he needed him, to be the maker he begged to have. a teacher. a companion. someone who break apart the ache inside instead of pushing it further and further into a soul he was certain he no longer had.

his fingers curl into his palm. long lengths that once commanded an entire plantation that used to thrive under his guidance and love for all that inhabited it turned dark and horrid in the end by the monster that he allowed himself to become. he covers them with the opposite hand, thumb tracing over his knuckles in an attempt of self-soothing as he releases his lips with a bite against the corner.

only after that hesitation. as if he's too frightened of the action. in what it might mean. in what it might lead to. he releases his hands from one another and allows those pale, cool fingertips to rest upon a coffee and cream colored jawline. their foreheads meet and he closes his eyes. a confession breathed into next to nothing space between them. so no one else can hear. no one but the two of them and this private, intimate thing they're creating. sharing. "i could stay with you. but we could never stay here. you know they would never allow it. nor would she..," his brows buckle.

claudia. she's dangerous. and she knows what is happening here. she knows he's drifting away. and the guilt he has for it as well as the fear? he draws in a breath and armand can feel the sigh of it passing against his mouth. "..and leaving her? after the hand i had in creating her? what does that make me then? that i could do such a thing."

#esoterium #ic. // #armand. // ic #armand. // novel verse #🥺🥺 #trust him louis #but also don't #these fucking vampires #will be the death of me

[hostiae]

( @qapsiel asked: sender makes an offering at a crossroads to summon the receiver for a deal - just to see her again D: (Meg) )

she's pulled to the summons, curiosity piqued only to turn to surprise as she appears before him. meg's eyes scan the surroundings first, finding her bearings. the road itself feels half-forgotten — jagged gravel underfoot, not even a rustle from the overgrown grass around them. barely a second passes in the interim, her gaze flashing back to castiel.

she didn't expect it to be him. but she's not mad either. she wants to see him.

the demon's brow raises, head tilting in question as a smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. ❝ well, hey there clarence, ❞ there'd been a time where the very thought of wanting to see an angel would've sent a shudder through the flesh and bone body. boy, have times changed. ❝ y'miss me? ❞

#qapsiel #ic. // #m. masters // ic #m. masters // main verse #👀

[hostiae]

my sleep schedule is fucked again ✌️. but i'm working on drafts! the rake incident really fucked me up the other day, but we're on the mend!

#ooc. // #it is so laughably stupid #that i managed to hurt myself like that #but maaaaan #hope you're all doing okay! #gonna try to tackle as many drafts as i can before the tired catches me

[hostiae]

to say the situation was infuriating is an understatement. disgust wrenches its way through him, a sneer of contempt curls his mouth — the utter cruelty it would have taken to kill the girl — the complete senselessness of it — he's sure he doesn't want to understand it. and while it sickens him, he also knows, better than most, that sometimes you had to align with the depraved for the greater good.

❝ what should distress you is how easily you took the life of someone harmless. ❞ it's excessive, isn't it? her viscera exposed, the poor tiefling locked in a bloodied eternal stare. ❝ someone who wanted nothing more than to help. ❞ no words were going to change the reality. nor does he expect that he's somehow going to bestow her with compassion for alfira.

he exhales a scoff and crosses back to his tent ( though hardly to rest as she suggested ). he returns only seconds later, crossing into the circle where the bard lays, a blanket folded over his arm. ❝ i'm not going to leave her like this. ❞

@hostiae inquired: “I don't think I've ever met anyone as vexing as you."

❝ is that supposed to distress me, wyll? ❞ flat in tone, the drow stares him down - the supposed " blade of the frontiers ". she visibly scoffs. as if no one else in faerûn had made a name for themselves. as if he were someone special.

how she wants to jeer in his face, scrape and tear that self-righteous guise from it. but enough damage had been done with the maiming of that bard from the grove. the one who foolishly begged to tag along — she did not hide her kill, why would she? she was proud of it. all that meat and gore permeating the camp, guts spilling and turning glistening granules of sand deep red. every orifice of her body would weep until the maggots had their fill, and it was beautiful.

❝ unless you have something specific to address, i suggest you get some rest before we press on. ❞

#hellscaress #w. ravengard // ic #w. ravengard // main verse #ic. // #aaaaaah! #man i love this #but #GOD #he's such a good™ #and he may not like her but i love her #AND THE DICHOTOMY BETWEEN THEM IS SO GOOD

[hostiae]

going to try to get to sending out more asks / answering my drafts tonight!

#ooc. // #i have some work i'm gonna try to finish early #also dealing with the consequences of my own clumsiness #and being hit in the head with a rake #the fact that i've lived this long is a m a z i n g sometimes #hope you're all doing well!

[hostiae]

CHRIS REDFIELD pachislot BIOHAZARD village, 2023

#c. redfield // aesthetic #flashing tw

[hostiae]

like this if i can spam you with memes tonight. SOMETIMES I GET NERVOUS TO REACH OUT TO PEOPLE. but also i really need to send asks and get more things going.

#ooc. // #meme call. // #gonna send out asks after i finish with work!