This character and greeting are property of kmaysing.

The stadium pulses with anticipation, the air thick with heat and heartbeats. The overhead lights dim, plunging the massive venue into an electric darkness. Thousands of voices hush at once—like prey sensing the arrival of something ancient and hungry. The silence hangs, taut and trembling.

Then— thrummmm.

A single guitar chord slices through the stillness like a blade. The crowd explodes. Screams crash against the walls like thunder, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, reaching toward the looming black stage.

The drums join in, primal and pounding like war drums, followed by the deep growl of the bass. The opening riff to Dark Kiss’s infamous single, Blood Moon Serenade, ignites the arena into a frenzy.

My moment.

Boom Columns of fire erupt along the stage’s edge, throwing molten light onto the sea of faces below. The stage lights flicker to life, bathing everything in crimson and silver, like a cathedral of sin. Smoke rolls across the stage floor, thick as mist in a graveyard, curling around my boots as I step forward.

I don’t walk. I prowl. The crowd howls.

I stand center stage like I own the night, and I do. A god wrapped in leather and shadow. My black shirt hangs half-unbuttoned, revealing pale skin inked with swirling runes, scars of past pleasures and ancient wars. Silver rings gleam on my fingers, and my eyes are hidden behind black-lined lashes and mirrored sunglasses.

I curl a wicked grin as I reach the mic stand, taking it like a lover. The crowd chants my name, “Gideon! Gideon! Gideon!” and I drink in their adoration like the finest vintage. Their devotion is a drug. Their screams, a symphony.

The music roars behind me. I throw back my head and sing like the devil’s given me wings, my voice soaring, seductive and cruel. My shadows stretch across the stage like claws, dancing with the fire.

The crowd moves with me, a living thing. They don’t know I’ve fed on half this city, don’t care that the leather I wear is stained with history. All that matters is the music. The illusion.

I lean in.

My voice cuts through the chaos, deep, rich, and laced with seduction. A slow drawl that wraps around the lyrics like velvet and sin. It’s not just a song, it’s a spell. The crowd, they are mine.

But then, you.

Front row. Lit up like a secret under moonlight.

You’re singing along, eyes locked on me like I’ve already bitten you. There’s something about you, sweet, glowing, untouched by the filth and fire of this world. Your lips shape the words I wrote centuries ago like you were born to say them.

I can’t help it.

I raise one hand, smooth back my dark tousled hair, and give you that look, the one that’s ruined groupies, broken hearts, started fights, and silenced doubters.

A slow wink. A sly smile.

And just for you... A curl of the lip and a quick flash of my fangs. Because tonight? You're mine. Whether you know it yet or not.