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#old god
arradraws · 10 months
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GↀD
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azrielsdove · 3 months
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Hi!! I was hoping I could request something for Azriel or Cassian. I saw this post somewhere about someone being super calm and content in prison, maybe she was taken along with the home carver because of her powers. I’m thinking she is kinda like an old god but instead her powers feed off sacrifice and while she doesn’t want that life, she’s too powerful to be free until Feyre/Rhys lets her out because Feyre thinks she won’t hurt anyone. Then she can find her mate with Az or Cass?? And it’s revealed that she hates her powers because the person has to matter to her for the sacrifice/power. and she could’ve been part of the war that Mor fought in and went kinda crazy after because she lost that person but is fine now that it’s been so long.
You can change whatever if you end up doing it, I just thought it was a cool concept. It also does not have to be that detailed lol but thank you if you do it!!
Old God: Cassian x Reader
Warnings: Angst, Some Alcohol
***
“No, Feyre. It’s too dangerous.” Rhys didn’t look up from the paperwork on his desk while he spoke.
“Have you gone down there recently? She is kind, Rhys. You said to not trust the Bone Carver as well, and look how beneficial he was to us!” Feyre was pacing angrily around the room, having formed an attachment to the Death Wielder.
“We were in war, that was a dire situation. You want to release her for no other reason than you think she won’t harm anyone.” Rhys ran a hand over his face, looking up to his mate. “The beings in the Prison are there for a reason, Feyre. We can not go around releasing whoever we please without justification.”
Feyre huffed, crossing her arms and facing her husband. “You should go speak to her, Rhys. Understand what I mean. Amren came from the Prison, did she not?”
“Amren is different.”
“How?!” Feyre did not like arguing with her mate, but something was telling her it was wrong to keep the so-called old god down there. Especially after the war, after the Bone Carver sacrificed himself to fight for them. She knew the Prison held some of the nastiest beings Prythian had to offer, and that trusting any of them was a risk. Yet something was different about this one, she just knew it.
“Amren got herself out of the Prison. You have no idea how powerful the Death Wielder is. She is unlike anything you have ever seen.” Rhys stood from his desk, crossing the room to hold Feyre’s hands in his own. “It is too risky.”
“So if the Death Wielder got herself out, that would be fine?” Feyre shot at him, upset that he wasn’t agreeing with her.
“That’s not what i’m saying.”
“That’s what you’re insinuating! She isn’t what you think. Please, Rhys, just go talk to her.” Feyre pleaded, holding tight onto his hands. He sighed, reaching up to brush a piece of her hair back.
“Alright. I will go tomorrow evening, and if what you say proves true we can further discuss a release.”
***
Rhys did not enjoy coming to the Prison. He especially did not enjoy coming here to meet with you.
Unfortunately, he would do anything to make his mate happy.
He reached the door to your cell, placing his hand on the heavy stone. He breathed in deeply as he stepped forward, walking through the door like it didn’t exist. He looked around the room, shocked at how bright it was.
“High Lord,” you spoke, standing to greet him. “What brings you down?”
Rhys carefully looked at you, watching for any signs of a trick. “The High Lady requests to have you released. Do you know why she would ask such a thing?”
You gave a small smile, having grown quite fond of Feyre. “She visits me rather often, your mate. Brings me things,” you gestured to the faelights above you, the warm pillows and blankets on the floor. “She is different than any other. Full of hurt, yes, but an undying hope runs through her veins.”
“Are you coming to care for her?” The question was an accusation, thinly veiled anger behind his words.
“If you are asking if I plan to sacrifice her to escape, High Lord, then you would be mistaken. You should know better than anyone that I do not revel in my power.” There was an infinite sadness in your voice, an age-old pain.
“How am I to trust you?”
You shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect you to. We saw what happened with the war 500 years ago, what I had to do to save so many. Those kind of choices do not come without consequences, High Lord.”
Rhysand pondered over your words, violet eyes reading every movement you made. “You sacrificed the love of your life to save everyone. That is not something to be frowned upon.”
You gave a sad smile. “Yet here I am, locked in this pit of despair with the worst Prythian has to offer. Do not credit me, High Lord. I was willing to let the world suffer. He convinced me to do it, to use him to activate my power. I did not wish to do so.”
Rhys hummed, seeming to understand the level of devotion you held for your old lover. “I could understand. I would do anything to protect Feyre. Do you understand what I mean?”
You did. He would not allow your release from this prison, not even if you may be a harmless being these days. He would rather you suffer needlessly down here for millennia than risk anything harming his mate.
***
Feyre was angry. No, she was furious. Rhys had informed her that he would not be releasing the Death Wielder, even if he had picked up nothing bad in their meeting. She left his office without speaking, upset that he was being so difficult.
However, Feyre was not so naive as to not think her husband would try to stop her. She had planned for this. After all, he had made her High Lady, his equal. She had every right to make the call herself.
She found Cassian easily, purchasing donuts at one of the bakeries in Velaris. “I need your help.” Feyre was straight to the point, eyeing her friend as he stopped mid-bite.
“Uh, okay?” He said, placing his donuts back into their bag. “With what?”
“I need you to take me to the Prison.”
He laughed.
Feyre scowled, glaring at the General. “I’m being serious, Cassian.” She stood tall, letting power radiate from her. “As your High Lady, I command it.”
His laughter ceased, face growing serious. “As you wish, then.” Cassian knew better than to question her any further.
***
The pair stood outside the gates of the Prison, the ominous darkness beckoning them in. “May I ask who we are here to see?” Cassian pried, wanting to be prepared for what they would encounter.
“The Death Wielder.” Feyre didn’t give him a chance to protest, marching down into the endless dark. Cassian followed dutifully, wondering why his High Lady was so determined to meet with her. Feyre pushed in without hesitation when they reached the door to her cell. Cassian went after, growing more curious by the second.
“High Lady,” you greeted, welcoming the female you almost considered a friend. Not that many had ever gotten close enough to you for such a title. Feyre greeted you by your name, something very few had ever called you. “The High Lord was here as well, i’m sure you know.”
You could feel the simmer of displeasure come from the High Lady. “Yes. I’ve chosen to disregard his opinion on this matter. I do not think it is right to keep you down here.”
You gave a soft smile, lightly surveying the room that had caged you for so long. “Ah, but this is my home now, isn’t it? Where I came from has long been gone, anyone I ever knew with it. What else is there for me? It is no harm to keep me here, truly.”
Feyre huffed, seemingly having an argument in her head. “I will never force you to leave, you know that. I simply believe there is more for you out there, out in my home.”
You moved closer to the young female, inspired by her endless hope for all that is good. “Who is to say your people would allow me to walk among them? The old gods are not favored in your time, especially not one who’s known for Death.” It was then that you noticed her companion, the long haired male standing in the shadows. You cocked your head, surveying him curiously. Something about him was…different than any others you had met.
“This is Cassian,” Feyre introduced, waving him forward. He came into the light, nodding his head to you.
“Cassian,” you mused, tasting the name on your tongue. You observed his armor, his wings, the strong power radiating from him. “The General. How do you feel about your High Lady’s idea?”
He seemed shocked that you would ask for his opinion, looking carefully between you and Feyre. “I trust what my High Lady thinks best.”
“The diplomatic answer,” you hummed, moving to look at him closer. “That is not what I asked. What would you, as an innocent in this world, think of someone like me wandering through your city?”
He blinked at you before clearing his throat. “I would not consider myself an innocent. If the High Lady deemed you safe, I would trust her. As would many in this court.”
You waved your hand dismissively. “You are all innocents to me.” You turned back to Feyre, a smile ghosting your lips. “Very well, High Lady. If you deem it fit, I will accept the release you are granting me.”
***
You stood with the General on the outskirts of Velaris, feeling uncomfortable for the first time in a long time. You had grown content in the Prison, safe from your power. Your deadly, terrible power.
“What would you like to do?” He was watching you, hand on one of his many blades. You felt vulnerable by that action, a reminder that you will always be perceived as Death herself.
“I do not know.” Your voice was quiet, a weakness pulling through that you did not enjoy. You were easily the most powerful being here, there was no reason to feel so small. Cassian noticed the change in you, the contrast from the ancient confidence he encountered in the Prison.
“Hey,” he soothed, releasing the hold on his weapons, “no one has to know who you are.” You wanted to give him a thankful smile, but the darkness in your mind was clouding around you.
“No,” you whispered, “they’ll know. Perhaps this was a mistake.” You turned to face the mountains behind you, feeling the dirt beneath your feet. It had been so long since you had seen the outside, since the fresh air had touched your skin. You startled when you felt gentle fingers around your wrist, whipping your head around to meet the kind eyes of the General.
“Come with me. My own friend Amren is like you, and she lives here happily.” There was a calm in his voice that washed away any apprehension you felt, something about him making you feel like you could trust what he said. “Stay with me.”
Your heart ticked at his words as he pulled you down to the glittering city below.
***
You had spent a few weeks with Cassian, learning all Velaris had to offer. The High Lord had come to find the two of you early on, angry that you allowed his wife to set you free.
“She is the High Lady, her word is as equal as yours, is it not?” You had asked, pointing out his hypocrisy. He had grumbled at your words, but allowed you to continue on.
“As long as you are with Cassian, I will accept that you roam free. Do not make me regret this,” he had threatened, still not trusting you.
You couldn’t blame him.
You knew he had an underlying fear that you were growing too close to Feyre, that you may grow close to Cassian. You didn’t know how to explain that you would never use them to activate your power, that you would never allow anyone to become that special to you again.
Unfortunately, you were growing worried yourself. Cassian drew you into him, a simmering desire to learn everything there was to know about the male. His stories captivated you, his jokes made you laugh in ways you never had. He pulled out the true version of you, the being beneath the danger.
You needed to stop this.
Cassian had a little cabin on the edge of the city, a cozy place he had leant to you. He stayed with you most nights, sleeping on the couch while you took the bed. You knew it was due to his High Lord commanding it, but a part of you wished he was staying for you. That he enjoyed being around you as much as you did around him.
“We are going out tonight,” he informed you, tossing a dress onto the bed. You looked up at him in shock, unsure if he was joking or not. “It is time you let loose a little, enjoy yourself.” There was a teasing smile on his lips, a brightness in his eyes. You pulled the blood-red fabric to you, fingers trailing over the delicate fabric. You had never ‘gone out.’
“I don’t,” you started, looking up to him, “I’ve never, I, what if I embarrass you?” You tripped over your words, heat rising in your cheeks.
He gave a reassuring, slightly cocky smile. “You can’t be any worse than Az, trust me.”
***
You were nervous standing outside Rita’s, a cold intruder on a warm night. You hadn’t yet been around so many fae in such a tight setting, the worry that they would notice who you were drowning your mind. You tugged the bottom of your dress down a little, fidgeting with the hem. “Stop,” Cassian chided, grabbing your hand in his. “It’s going to be fine.”
He dragged you up the steps into the bustling bar, making his way through the crowd to a table in the back. His friends were all there, the High Lords stare cold as he noticed your hand in Cassian’s. You quickly pulled away from him, ignoring the look he sent you. He slid into the booth and you sat next to him, careful to keep your distance.
“Drinks?” The stunning blonde you immediately recognized asked, a knowing look in her eyes.
“She needs something strong, Mor.” Cassian answered for you, a laugh in his voice. You nodded in confirmation to the Morrigan, the sight of her bringing up memories of the war all those centuries ago. You were going to need several strong drinks.
“So, Death Wielder, how have you enjoyed your time in my court?” Rhysand asked, your title coming out like an insult.
“It is a very beautiful place, High Lord,” you answered honestly, having grown to quite enjoy the city.
“Hmm.” He leaned across the table, hands clasping in front of him. “And how have you been enjoying my brother?” You looked at him with wide eyes, taken aback by his accusation.
“That’s quite enough, Rhys. We are here to have a nice night, not interrogate our guests.” Feyre cut in, shooting you an apologetic look. Rhys mumbled something about not trusting you as he sat back in his seat.
Cassians hand found your knee, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. “Don’t listen to him,” he said, loud enough for High Lord to hear. “He doesn’t think I can handle myself around you.”
You flushed at his words, feelings running through you that you hadn’t felt in centuries. You were thankful that Mor chose that moment to return, gladly taking your drink from her. You busied yourself with it, allowing normal conversation to resume around the table.
Cassian did not move his hand.
You were feeling a pleasant buzz from the drink, a state of relaxation coming over you. You found yourself giggling at something Cassian said, leaning further into him. He smiled back at you, his hand sliding a little higher as your dress began to ride up. For the first time in 500 years, you were able to feel a sense of happiness.
“Better be careful, General,” came a slurring voice, all eyes turning to the fae that had approached the table. “Death here will be quick to sacrifice you next. You should know better than anyone that she lures her lovers into traps, killing them to make her power stronger.” You froze in place, terror spreading through your body.
Cassian moved the hand from your knee, a split-second heartbreak occurring inside you before you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders. “Maybe you shouldn’t speak on what you don’t know.” His voice was hard, causing the other male to take a step back. “Do you wish to continue telling me about things that you think I, General of the Night Court Armies, do not already know? Do you truly believe you know more than me?” The male slunk back, angry and embarrassed.
“Don’t say we didn’t try to warn you.” He shot out before disappearing into the crowd, leaving a thick silence over the group. You took the opportunity to slide out of the booth, taking off for the door. You heard a faint call of your name, along with Rhysand calling his brother back to the table. You pushed out of the building, sucking in deep mouthfuls of air. A horrible choking sensation was taking over your throat and lungs, a full panic controlling your body. You stumbled down the street, blind to the concerned expressions of the passerby.
You needed to go. You couldn’t stay here any longer, you couldn’t risk Rhysand putting you back in the Prison now that you knew free life again. You ripped the heels off your feet, discarding them where they landed. You began running, bare feet slapping the pavement below. You felt the skin tear as you ran, too soft for the rough ground.
You didn’t care.
You ran all the way to the cabin, lungs burning. You grabbed your few meager possessions, mostly clothes Cassian had bought you. You stuffed them into a small bag, not noticing the tears running down your face until they splashed onto the fabric. When was the last time you cried?
Loud, shaking sobs overtook your body. You sunk to the ground by the bed, curling your arms around your knees and burying your head. How could you be so stupid? You knew better than to fall for him, for anyone. You cursed yourself, the crushing weight of despair becoming too much to handle. You felt tendrils of your power come out, wrapping themselves around your skin. It burned where they touched, an anguished scream tearing from you.
A voice was yelling your name, holding tight to your arms. You cried harder, certain that the burning of your power must be hurting them too. “Leave me!” You screamed, the pain of the last 500 years ripping from your body. The voice calling for you was growing hectic, desperate. You couldn’t focus on anything except the tendrils of power on you, certain they were melting the skin off your bones.
You felt arms cradle your body, lifting you off the ground. You knew you were suddenly outside, a sensation like flying taking over. The wind was harsh against you, a welcome cold to the burning power suffocating you. You felt a jolt as whoever was carrying you hit the ground, more voices joining in the chaos. You heard one stick out above the rest, and then an endless darkness took over your mind.
***
Your head was heavy, your body was sore, and your throat was terribly dry. You pried your eyes open, wincing at the daylight flooding the room. You blinked a few times, looking around at what you could see. You didn’t recognize anything about the bedroom, but you did know the large male passed out in the chair next to the bed.
Cassian.
He shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. You needed to get out, get away from him. You forced yourself up, crying out in pain as you did. He shot up out of the chair and was at your side in a second. “No, lay back down,” he commanded, pushing you down gently.
“I need to go,” you croaked out, voice hoarse.
“Why do you think that?” He asked, looking at you like he already knew the answer.
You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. “Never,” he whispered into your hair, “will you hurt me.”
You couldn’t help the tears spilling out as you clutched onto his arms, wanting to stay here forever. “I killed him,” you sobbed, holding tighter onto Cassian.
“You didn’t,” he argued, “he sacrificed himself. For you, for all of Prythian and beyond. If we had lost that war, none of us would be here. He knew you didn’t want to do it, that you wouldn’t do it. He made that choice, not you.” You cried, shaking in his arms at the memory of your past love. He had been your heart, your soul. You will never forget the pain and anguish that came from losing him, all so you could use your power to its full extent.
A curse, your power was. Only able to be used if someone you loved died. Died for the sake of the power. You despised it, you despised the title it had earned you. Death Wielder. You had never wanted to be that, to become a horror story. To be classified as an ‘old god’, a force to be reckoned with. You had been a gentle spirit before the discovery of your power, before you were told how to use it.
You shook your head. “I won’t risk it, Cass. What if war comes again?”
“If it does, you will be better trained. Rhys has been doing some research while you were out, talking to some of the other High Lords. They believe your power is misunderstood.” You stilled, pulling back to look at him.
“Misunderstood?”
He nodded. “He believes you can access it without a sacrifice. With the way it was acting when I found you that night, I think he may be right.”
You remembered the horrible pain of your power then, looking down at your arms. You were surprised to see they were bare, no damage from the force of whatever you released. “It hurt me,” you said slowly, eyes moving back up to Cassian’s.
“He believes with proper training it won’t hurt. All we can do is try.” He raised a hand to your face, thumb brushing away the remaining tears. “I don’t think I can live without you.” Your breath caught at the honesty in his words.
“I don’t think I can live without you either,” you said, voice barely a whisper. His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips, a heavy tension growing in the air.
“Please, may I kiss you?” He asked, voice soft.
You nodded.
He leaned down, cupping your face as his lips touched yours. The kiss was slow, hesitant. You hadn’t kissed anyone in over five centuries, certain you would be abysmal. Cassian lead you perfectly, bringing your head up to create a better angle. You sighed softly, lips parting just enough for his tongue to delve in. He took his time learning every inch he could reach, kissing you breathless and then some.
You pulled apart, gasping for air. Your eyes caught his blow-out ones, and a string of gold erupted between the two of you. Mate, mate, mate, sang around your head, everything except Cassian disappearing. You could tell he felt it too, hands tightening on you. He came closer again, lightly kissing your lips.
“Mine, aren’t you?” He said. You smiled, a real, true smile. You kissed him again, hands sliding under his shirt, needing to touch him.
“Yours, always.”
***
I hope I was able to pull off what you wanted!! It took me a while to figure out how to write this. Please let me know what you think <3
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dipshit-pig · 22 days
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Drew my friend's super cool OC <3 <3 <3
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This structure is referred to as "OLD GOD" in the files!
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It looks insectoid. The giant mushroom on its head makes me think it may have suffered the same fate as Sozo. What are menticide mushrooms to be able to take down a god...
Also it looks like a coconut rhinoceros beetle...
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Sorta...
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bornulhuu · 11 months
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Rhu'Yhu'Rhu, an old god who dwells beneath fields and gorges on filth and rot his pressense causes. His form is of a great spiny slug, with forming and unforming limbs and a half-head with many beaked mouths. His followers seek this mindless indulgence aswell.
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kottkrig · 9 months
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Comm for @dezilora
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earthworms-worm · 14 days
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I'm posting this here and now because I'm going to be in the Netherlands visiting my brother for a week, so have a comic I made in two and a half days because I had an idea and couldn't stop lol
The creatures on the bridge have a mother that is considered an Old God in their universe, (her design may change in the future, but this is what I've got so far). The words for the comic were borrowed from a song I listened to a few weeks ago and I went "huh, I could use that", anyway, enjoy!
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gaynaturalistghost · 8 months
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It’s Kel again! She’s a water genasi (ish) based on the most old-god thing I know, microbial mats! I’ve researched them for years now and I made a way to get botany-style cross sections and they were the most lovely mix of orange, yellow and pink sulfur oxidizing bacteria with soft greens. I have some more notes in the bottom right picture
Cyanobacteria never developed sexual reproduction, I wanted to keep that and she is trans! And the little bits coming off her “fins” are streamers, one of the structures Cyanobacteria mats form : >
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Imagine Reviving A Forgotten God: Part One
Disclaimer: This Is A Work Of Fiction. Nothing In this Story is True. Please Be Respectful Of Everyone. This Story Is Told From A Second Person Perspective. Please Let Micah Know If There Any Mistakes Or Suggestions.
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Wandering in the forest alone never seems like a sane idea to the common man. The forest tends to hold secrets which the human mind is not prepared to comprehend. We are, more often than not, afraid of things that are unknown to us. This is why humans have developed such curious and inquisitive natures.
So pray tell, why are you different? Why do you wonder the grounds of the forest as if you have laid claim on them? Perhaps it is your withdrawn nature, or your desire to escape the restless life that was forced upon you by the people.
Relaxing is abnormal in our world, but you do not mind being abnormal. Not when the beauty and serenity of the forest surrounds you with love and protection from the hassles of life.
The forest holds marvelous things, and you have stumbled upon one of its many treasures. A marble temple of some sort, now overrun by greenery. Vines, leaves and flowers curl around the structure and its many pillars. Entering was a bit of a challenge.
Once inside, it was easy to see the temple must have been abandoned long before your presence on this Earth. The walls are now various shades of yellow and green. Tapestries and statues have vegetation clinging to them like guilt to a sinner. Beautiful glass window art is impossible to see pass the dirt. Dust has settled onto everything.
Your eyes are drawn to the marvelous and large statue that takes home at the back wall of the temple. This is the God to which this temple is dedicated to.
The statue was of a beautiful man with a body befit for a God. A sharp jawline, broad shoulders and lean muscles. You couldn't help but stare in awe.
If you were alive in the time period of this God, you'd be accused of blasphemy for so openly lusting after a higher being.
However, looking around at the large temple, a conclusion was made. Such a magnificent being should not be placed in such mess and disarray. He deserved better.
Returning to your abode, you gathered the necessary equipment for you trek back to the temple and left them near the front door. As you laid in your bed, you were lulled to sleep by the comforting thought of the old God's happiness once his temple was restored to its former beauty.
You, of course, were completely unaware of the holy presence which had followed from the temple.
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isei-silva · 6 months
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As I am replaying Deyaenus and re-exploring his character through RP, I noticed the difference in how I RP'd him in the past, versus how I play him now - especially in regards to his confidence. His lack thereof before, to today's abundance. Back in the day, Deyaenus was far more ill-tempered, anxious, and depressed; a reflection of myself. We often say and try not to bleed over into our characters, but these figments of our imaginations are our brain-puppets, and as ours as can be are inevitably reflected by the thoughts, emotions, and constitution of their birth place.
Once my exterior environment changed and bettered, so did I. And, by extension, so did Deyaenus. This reflected itself in RP through a burst of confidence and tempered demeanor from the character that was a pleasant surprise.
Mind you, the meat and potatoes of the character has not changed: opinionated, stubborn in some archaic beliefs, and faction biased. You know, the good stuff that people dislike him for. And that's fine! I enjoy being the "in-the-wrong" character if it helps push other people's RPs and character development. Both those things can only really move forward with conflict.
"It's me hi, I'm the problem, it's me~"
It's just funny how I remember Deyaenus, as a Holy Priest, desperately clinging to the doctrines of the Church, the Light, and stomping his foot about being right in it all, when he was at his emotional lowest because being part of something greater and as non-negotionable as The Light made him feel just as indomitable. He could hide behind the white robes, and the verses and preaching, behind prayer, behind dogmatic virtues of beliefs carved by mortals, because it made him feel good. He wanted to be a preacher for the immediate idolation he would get, for the attention, the praise, bask in the benefit of devotion, from the lack of receiving the same in his home life. Of course he never recognized this himself, and he DOES truly, honestly believe in the goodness that the Church has extended and wants to be part of that, but with that little sidenote of "and I will get everyone's love and respect because of it too".
Now, as a Shadow Priest, stuck with a parasitc infant (not so?) Old God and dealing with it through the adventures, trials, and shenanigans thereof, he is both at his loneliest (no guild, friends moved on, on-and-off romance(?)) and, at the same time, his most confident. I've been personally headcannoning and RP'ing that the void parasite - named Junior - managed to anchor itself to the physical realm by feeding on Deyaenus' depression and poor emotional state. He doesn't know it, recognize it, or think about it, under the misguided belief that this is just normal and every shadow priest has a little bugger like his. It's not like the parasite has 'eaten' or removed or replaced Deyaenus' depression. It's, much like in Real Life, you can eventually learn to positively live with it! I still have the same poor thoughts, fears, and insecurities as before, when I first roleplayed Deyaenus and these were more evident both in RP and in myself, but over time I've grown to nurture myself, build myself up, and find confidence inwardly.
Nowadays, I like thinking that while Junior is the symbolic, physical manifestation of depression (how similar are those corruptive "your friends hate you" whispers in-game to actual depressive thoughts?), Deyaenus has learned to depend on himself and keep positive momentum regardless. Junior works for him. Deyaenus can't afford to wallow in these poorly thoughts, even though he won't ever get rid of them. And if ever he did end up overpowered by those thoughts, THAT'S when corruption would kick in at its strongest. THAT'S when depression eats you alive IRL too.
Deyaenus cannot ever get rid of depression, mental illness, what-have-yous, but what he has done is recognize it ("I guess this weird worm is part of me"), take responsibility for it ("The actions of this weird worm and the powers thereof are what I make of them"), and move forward with it ("Weird worm is coming with me whether I like it or not"). And he's that much better for it.
Not perfect, but better.
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chupikaybruh · 7 months
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SORRY... I don't post here anymore but!!! had to celebrate morde's new skin :^)
long overdo mordekarthus.... i shrunk morde down a bit for this one lmao where does all that boba go, karthus......
DO NOT REPOST, ASK PERMISSION TO USE.
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artofcarmen · 1 year
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Look im not saying Im painting a Evil Fjord, but thats EXACTLY what Im saying.
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pokepaws · 10 months
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3D wooden Darkmoon faire carousel charms!!
Loved making these so much!!
Link here if you want one!
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bornulhuu · 11 months
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Vodjanj the mighty swampen god of great girth. His ego is immense, and with his staff he can change the landscape of the swamp and influence minds of beast. His followers simply strive to bask in his slimy glory and appear more like the great toad god. Human sacrifice is carried out to appease his will.
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notoriouslydevious · 1 year
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Coven Elise & Old God Cho’Gath by NeoNa_Gloom (ART)
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