#entrails full of vermin

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Abominable Putridity - entrails full of vermin

[last-knight-who-was]

The First Night

Upon discovering what Mukuro's done to her abusers, Junko decides a reward is in order.

------------------

Junko had been suspicious when Yoshida Mako had been found mutilated in his own home three days ago. He was her first manager, the first man who'd ever taken advantage of her. Then yesterday Morimoto Daichi, the photographer who'd photographed her rape at Yoshida's hands, had been discovered at his studio, strung up by his entrails. That had been the confirmation she needed.

Her sister had returned home four days ago and already two of Junko's abusers were dead. It didn't exactly take a genius to figure out who was responsible, and Junko was far more than a genius.

The fashionista had been waiting impatiently the whole day for their parents to go to bed, and then another thirty minutes after that to ensure the sleeping pills she'd slipped them had put them both out for the night. While she'd waited she'd put on a sheer blue nightie with a matching pair of lacey panties. And at 11pm exactly she carefully stepped out of her bedroom.

Quietly, she made her way down the hall to her sister's room, pausing outside the door to listen for a moment. There was a soft rustling of fabric and footsteps coming from inside. Grinning to herself, Junko opened the door and slipped inside.

As the door clicked shut, Mukuro stiffened, whirling around to face her with a knife in her hand. Her eyes widened upon seeing her little sister, the knife getting tossed into a backpack that lay open on the bed. "Junko-chan! What, uh... what are you doing here?"

Junko smirked, eyeing her twin up and down. The soldier was dressed in combat boots, dark jeans, and a black hoodie. She could see various weapons poking out of the backpack. "Going somewhere Muku-nee?" She asked teasingly, leaning back against the door. She arched her back, drawing Mukuro's attention to her chest, her tits on full display through the sheer gown.

Gasping, Mukuro immediately shifted her gaze toward the ceiling. "Why are you wearing that?" She asked nervously, hands fidgeting at her sides.

"Oh this?" The fashionista asked, bringing her hands up to her chest, slowly sliding them down over her breasts, down the length of her stomach, watching how her sister's eyes seemed to unconsciously follow the movement, pupils blowing wide before she averted her gaze again. "Just a nightgown. It's sexy, right?"

Swallowing, the soldier's hands clenched. "Y-yes, very... very sexy."

Letting out a soft sigh, Junko shook her head in amusement. Her ridiculously chivalrous soldier, trying so hard to be good and respectful. Fingers toying with the hem of her gown, she hummed curiously. "Were you going after Shirai tonight?"

That brought Mukuro's attention back to Junko, just as she'd hoped. The soldier's mouth opened and closed a few times, as if she couldn't decide how to respond. After a long moment of silence, her face hardened, back straightening as she met Junko's gaze resolutely. "I won't apologize for killing them. And I won't stop until they're all dead. The filthy fucking vermin deserve to suffer for what they did to you!" She hissed, body trembling with barely suppressed rage.

Junko blinked, unconsciously clenching her thighs together. It had been so long since she'd gotten to see that protective fury, that rage that her beloved sister once had so much trouble controlling. She'd only just begun to understand what that rage awakened in herself before Mukuro had left to join Fenrir. The arousal it brought out of her was far more potent now than it'd been when she was thirteen.

"I don't want an apology," she replied, locking the door before pushing off of it. Slowly, she sauntered her way forward, enjoying the way Mukuro's eyes dropped to her swaying hips. Moving fully into the soldier's space until their fronts were pressed flush together, Junko draped her arms around her sister's neck.

"What are you doing?" Mukuro muttered, her breathing growing shallow at the feeling of her little sister's breasts pressed firmly against her own.

Pouting playfully, Junko hummed thoughtfully. "I think my strong, protective wolf should get a reward for killing my enemies, don't you?"

The older twin's brow furrowed in confusion. She wasn't sure exactly what she'd expected from this conversation, but it certainly wasn't this. "I don't... you're not upset?"

Rolling her eyes, Junko leaned closer until their noses touched. "Dumbass. Why would I be upset? Like you said, they deserve it." Sliding her hands down to Mukuro's chest, she pushed forward, taking advantage of her wolf's distraction to shove her onto the bed.

Mukuro fell onto her back, staring up at her sister with wide eyes as Junko climbed atop her, straddling her waist with all the grace of a tigress. The fashionista grinned down at her, hands coming to the zipper of her hoodie and tugging it slowly down. "Junko, wait," Mukuro gasped, moving to stop her.

"Hands down soldier!" Junko barked.

"Yes ma'am!" Immediately, Mukuro's arms dropped to the bed at her sides, her body tensing as her eyes snapped to attention, meeting amused sky blues.

Giggling, Junko pulled the soldier's hoodie open. "Oh, that's useful!" Slipping her hands beneath Mukuro's tank top, she lightly dragged her fingernails over the hard muscles of her sister's abdomen. "You're even more obedient than you were when you left."

Shuddering at the feeling of those sharp nails dragging along her stomach, Mukuro kept her hands completely still. "Ma'am, I..."

"You're staying right here tonight, soldier," Junko interrupted. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to her sister's neck, drawing a shiver from her. "You can hunt again tomorrow night." Her lips brushed along the skin of Mukuro's neck with each word, kissing her way upwards toward her ear.

"Ma'am!?" the soldier gasped, hands curling into fists, but still not moving from her sides.

Giggling once again, Junko nipped at her sister's ear. "You're gonna be a good soldier and let me reward you oh so thoroughly for your service," she purred before taking Mukuro's earlobe between her teeth and tugging on it.

"Ma'am, please!" Mukuro whined, her hands jerking up, stopping just before they could land on Junko's hips.

Releasing her hold on her sister's ear, she sat up, meeting her gaze once more. Slowly, she began rolling her hips back and forth, holding Mukuro's gaze the whole time. "Are you gonna be a good soldier and follow orders?"

"Yes ma'am!" The soldier replied without hesitation, drawing a smile to Junko's lip.

"You may touch me," the fashionista allowed. Immediately, Mukuro's hands were grasping at her hips, guiding her movements. She could feel the damp fabric of her little sister's panties press against her abdominal muscles, drawing a shuddering breath from both of them.

"Hope you're ready for a long night soldier," Junko groaned out, curling a hand around Mukuro's neck as she leaned down. "I've been waiting for this for three years." And she caught her wolf's lips in a hungry kiss.

[jotunkhiicha]

Nora; her character reminds me of the personification of yesterday and tomorrow—not quite ever there, but always lurking.

Vermin.

Gazing out of her balcony window at the shattered cosmos beyond the planet’s delve, Nora swirls her lime tonic with a rapturous gaze. Even though these planets and stars, if the bitter remnants could be described as such, have had their entrails scattered across the chaotic spiel of the universe to tell of warnings—to forbade travellers from entering—she still adores the grotesque sight as much as the sight of them burning in their prime. These tattered remains meant that death, and the rapt destruction that naturally births death like Nyx and Thanatos, proved to her that death still lurked right on her tainted doorstep, even if lamb’s blood was sloshed upon her door.

She wished to taste that glorious moment where the last morsels of her life meet with the ruinous air. Much like sparks in a room filled to the brim with flammable gas, she desired to have her life rupture, to have her last moments be creating an operatic tragedy where she obliterates all she had made so no one else can sit atop her empire—could claim her fortune as their own. She wanted her corpse to be paraded around in the stars, to be full with the souls of those she has consumed in gluttonous fashion, and to have them be like swords that burst from her chest cavity.

And yet, be that as it may, these orchids are like lion cubs that she fosters in the hopes that, one day, they roar and eat her from the inside out—all claws and teeth.

Ah… let it be so. Let the world be as she desires, filled with rapt ruin and vivacious viciousness.

“Your Mind Flayer is… misbehaving.” Her secretary says as she grips onto a sleek object, one that seems wet as something dully thuds upon the floor.

Plop.

Nora leans back in her chair, her head handing over the back of it in a, strangely, alluring manner, as she still mindlessly swirls her glass and the spherical ice cube spins. “All children have tantrums, Eris. Not all require a… firm hand.” She drawls as she brings the glass to her lips, opening her mouth to pour the sour liquid into her gullet.

The liquid sloshes down and she smiles as the chill permeates through her entire body, clashing with her natural warmth and illuminating the dark pathways of her arteries and veins.

It sets her on fire.

Eris raises her head and drops an icepick onto Nora’s desk, one sullied with blood and, even under the dim light of the blue sun, she can see brain matter upon the weapon and the delightful splatters of blood upon her secretary’s white clothes—now this, this catches her attention.

“I believe this fulfils the requirement for your intervention, Nora.” She hisses as she places both hands upon Nora’s desk, drawing her in as she leans forwards as she comes to stand, gently taking the icepick and admiring the brain matter.

With one simple look, she knows whose brain it is; Eiphillia, one of her beloved friends and emanators of Nede Priamus’ divine power.

“Seems a shame about the suit, Eris.” Nora muses and she pulls her white napkin from her blazer pocket, strokes the icepick in a most scandalous fashion, before tossing the soiled item on her desk and wielding it as her weapon, “What is it you want?”

Her words slither up a vine and come forth as a forbidden fruit, desperate to be taken by her secretary.

Eris furrows her brows and folds her arms. “I want it to suffer for what it showed me.”

“Ask…” Nora taps her cheek with the icepick, catching blood on her cheek, “And you shall always receive.” She chuckles as she clicks her fingers and warps, in a red haze, to her beloved basement where she keeps all of her prized pets.

These concrete slabs are absolutely caked in blood and the iron is intoxicating. It hits her and drags her beneath the daze, beneath that iron stench that stars are born from. That stench of fresh blood and the squelching sound as she steps into this decrepit funhouse of horror, swinging the icepick around in her hand and delighting in the way the screams, the clamour, and everything else slowly dies as their beloved Priestess waltzes into the fray, clad in black robes of ruinous origin.

This is how it should be.

Her heels clack and she admires Eris’ handiwork in how she has strewn the corpses of the corrupted emanators across the halls. Some of them have tendrils coming out of their eyes, some have it out of their mouths and ears, and some have none at all; perhaps mere cannon fodder for the greater show. Flowers bloom where corpses lay in a show of her pet’s desire to see the outside world—clad in darkness and delusion.

When she comes to her observation room, she sees the door is propped open with a corpse, probably by Eris in her attempt to come back to the surface and warn her patron about the chaos beneath her heels to invite her within. It’s certainly a grand invitation and who is she to reject such an advancement?

Curling her fingertips around the edge of the door, Nora pushes it away from her, uncaring if she steps into the blood, brains and the entrails, as she steps over the leg of an emanator and sees her beloved Mind Flayer with its tendrils in some poor attendee’s brains, sucking upon the remnants of what they once were, and who they will never be again with a silent scream bursting from their parted lips.

Nora smirks as she walks up to the glass and taps it thrice with one of her baby blue nails, catching the creature’s attention and, when it recognises the familiar short silver hair, her dull grey eyes filled with unquestionable rage as she presses her nose against the glass, a palatable terror erupts into the world, igniting her mind at the sight.

She gently presses the microphone and keeps her index finger pressure upon it while she speaks. “You’ve been a very… naughty pet, Haichong,” her voice is like molten magma as it has been burned into its brain, searing her sweet, saccharine destruction into the depths of its mind, “And bad pets ought to be punished, don’t they?”

Like an Iron Maiden’s intoxicating embrace, fear comes into the Mind Flayer’s system like spikes piercing its flesh. Perhaps that is precisely what Nora is. She is both the spike and the balm—the end and the beginning.

Nora steps back and her heels clack against the concrete as she manoeuvres across corpses and organs alike, peeling her heels off the floor and uncaring of how much blood seeps into her trousers. She moves like a leaf in the breeze; deftly balancing between the dreaded twin stars of fate as she pushes the door to the cage for her beloved Mind Flayer.

Her nails scrape against the metallic door and she grins as she watches it writhe under her intense gaze, like that of a burning eclipse. Its tentacles slither across the back wall and it attempts to flee from its owner as she steps closer with slow, calculated steps while she twirls the icepick in her right hand lackadaisically, embracing the denouement of her pet’s independence—its defiance.

“It seems like you need to be house trained again,” She wistfully sighs and she tilts her head at it retreating, “It’s such a chore. So, sit tight and suffer well for me, Haichong. Maybe this time you’ll remember.”

The Mind Flayer screams at her while she scorches her lessons into its cortex, but she doesn’t relent—Nora never relents.

Reprieve, it begs. Suffer, she howls.

It is a constant cycle, like that of a world coming too close to its patron; it burns and it burns so bright. It’s meant to be painful, the light of the dawn and the twilight at dusk.

Just as the stars implode, and just as she has seen them be born, she will await the day that they take her with them for what she has done, and all she is bound to do, because a lesson learned twice is a lesson never learned at all.

[lesbiany2kvampiregirls]

Corvids

Human eyed crows

knit their tales

with rows and rows

of entrails.

They gossip to the moon

free of all cages.

"We die so soon"

Say those who live for ages.

They feast on the corpses

of bugs and vermin

They feed the roses

of the virgin.

Well-oiled machines

of flesh so tender

To its means

they surrender

They worship the fire

as the twilights darken

full of desire

Their senses sharpen

Will I see them again?

If that’s what you want

Let’s say amen

and pray to stay apart

[onlyhurtforaminute]

ABOMINABLE PUTRIDITY-ENTRAILS FULL OF VERMIN

[sulemania]

Rogue Trader, part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Corridors And Creepers, first edition The bridge crew, especially the poor navigator, grabbed some precious hours of sleep while a boarding party was being prepared. Armed security forces to deal with whatever threats we might face, tech-priests to help repair the damaged ship components, regular priests to help repair damaged crew members and for shooting demons in the face, void suits for if the air wasn't breathable, et cetera. All the player characters would be joining in, obviously. We left for the ship in a guncutter and examined the hull of the Lady's Scorn. It seemed intact, though heavily damaged, which was good since we had busted their void shields when we rammed them. Without those, they were unprotected from gunfire, debris and other physical threats. We weren't going to be getting in through the hangar, so we had the tech priests go out and open an airlock for us, with extreme prejudice. The airlock responded in kind, with an explosion that killed two of the tech priests. Booby traps. Still, we got inside. The artificial gravity, thankfully, worked. The lights were out. The air was judged rank, but breathable for now. The life support systems were offline, but there was still enough air for some time. Repairing the life support would have to be our first priority, there's no point in searching for survivors if they're gonna suffocate before you can save them. Thankfully, we had prepared for this and had chosen an entry point close to where the life support systems would be on a raider like this. Pirate ships are often heavily modified, but it's generally a bad idea to meddle with a life support system design that works. Now, into the depths of the ship! The quiet was ominous. When living on a spaceship, you get used to a certain amount of background noise, as sound travels easily though the metal skeleton of the ship. Here, none of that could be heard. Eventually, we came upon a crew member. Well, half of one, that fell in front of us from a duct above. On the other side of the door, we found the rest of him, along with signs of conflict. A large pile of bodies in the center of the room. It seemed some of the crew had either gone mad or gotten possessed, and a fight had ensued. The pile was cold, but strangely enough, my arch-militant's eyeglasses (which were secretly equipped with infrared vision) picked up some heat from inside. One of the security crew members shrieked! A carrion worm had crawled up his leg and bitten through his void suit! A quick shot from the captain's pistol got rid of the beast, but the sound agitated the rest of the carrion worms in the corpse pile. These worms were common vermin found on spaceships, but the bloodbath on the ship had made them crawl out of their holes and made them grow fat and fierce. A huge swarm of them crawled out from the pile and through every duct and opening in the room. And poor us had only packed one flamethrower. Thankfully, we did bring a person with a death ray sticking out of her forehead. While we were desperately looking for a defensible position, the navigator blasted the worms with one enormous critical hitting blast from her third eye, and most of the worms were obliterated. After dealing with the rest of the worms, we eventually found the life support systems and left the tech priests to deal with that nonsense. We had people to save. Take me to church Our next priority was to find the ship's chapel. In Warhammer 40k, the power of faith and the protection of blessings are undeniable fact, making the ship's chapel the most secure place against the forces of the Warp. If we wanted to find survivors, the chapel was our best bet. But how to find it? The ship's corridors were a maze, and there were no signs to help. To make things worse, the pirates had trapped the corridors to deter boarders, turning the entire ship into a deathtrap. My arch-militant was the only one of the player characters who hadn't picked up the Jaded talent, meaning that whenever he saw his security crews being blown to bits in front of his eyes, he had to roll Willpower checks or suffer sanity loss. He didn't succeed on many of those. We got an idea, however, and called our ship. We had picked up some recruits from the pirate base, eager for the loot they would be allowed to get from the Lady's Scorn. Those recruits were able to tell us the rough pattern of how the directions and booby traps would be marked on the ship, allowing us to eventually find the chapel with minimal loss of personnel. We also called in for reinforcements, preferably for priests with flamethrowers. The chapel doors were locked tight, and heavily armored to protect the people inside from attacks in a time exactly like this. Our options: Blow it up and risk hurting the people inside, or get them to open it for us. We banged on the door and shouted: "We're from the Impostor! We're here to help!" It took many tries, but eventually there was a murmured response. A crewman that thought that we must be demons, wanting to get inside, ready to kill the survivors. In response, the captain began singing a hymn, and the crew joined in. A demon couldn't do that, right? After a while, the chapel door opened, and a pair of desperate eyes looked at us. "Get us out of here. Get us away from that!" The priests hit him with tranqs and started treating him as we entered the chapel. The pews were full of the ship's crew. Passed out from exhaustion, sleeping, or dead? We started examining them as we noticed a crew member slumped over the altar. The captain set out for the altar and my arch-militant followed, in full bodyguard mode. As the captain got closer, he began hearing whispers from the figure. Eventually, he got close enough to begin discerning words. Whatever he heard, he must have recognized as being Very Much Not Good At All (the captain has a rather mysterious past), so he signalled the rest of us to get away. The captain reached for his pistols, and shot once, then a second time. The first shot with his las-pistol was followed by an explosive reaction from the figure. A wave of cold and insanity-causing terror swept across the chapel, dealing heavy damage to everyone. We couldn't possibly take many of those! This would be a tough fight! The second shot hit a fraction of a second later, only delayed because the laser had moved at lightspeed. The plasma projectile tore through the possessed crewman and blasted his head right off. The oppressive feeling from the wave vanished at the same time. The whole encounter, intended to be a big battle to end the session, was over faster than anyone could even blink. The captain really was a pretty damn good shot. Understandably shocked by this sudden turn of events, the arch-militant turned towards the much smaller captain and decked him with one swift punch. HOLT  ლ(ಠ益ಠ)ლ: "What the hell was that?" As soon as he had said that, he realized what he had done, paled and looked around himself. Our priests had all taken out their guns and pointed them at him. We would not tolerate any further possessions. HOLT  (꒪⌓꒪): "No, it's me! I can even sing hymns!" He helped the captain up. A momentary lapse of judgement had felt appropriate after having suffered the 13th point of insanity during the same session. The captain seemed understanding as he stood up and led the arch-militant to the altar where the figure had been. Behind the altar, a pile of corpses, whose entrails the possessed crewman had been gathering and spooling like string. For the first time that session, the arch-militant actually miraculously succeeded on his sanity roll. Now that we had secured the chapel and discovered some survivors, the next logical step would be securing the bridge and finding the navigator who had replied earlier. This would be tough, as even a crazed and weakened navigator was still armed with a small WMD on their damn head. Next time: We do exactly that.

[lombra-dalla]

Confinement

I’ve been working on this drabble for months, finally got it done after changing it three times. If you are interested in Rhaast life when he still lived under the dirt, this is your story.

[WARNING: body horror and madness/unsettled state of mind, though not in much degree... I think]

'Do not forget, Rhaast'.

The Darkness whispered, soft and pitiful like the musings of a mother and so, so loathable. Rhaast did all he could to ignore it, to silence the treacherous words, echoes from his memories, but it was so hard.

It was so dark, so cold and lonely.

Lost in the entrails of the earth, buried under the dirt, Darkness was all he knew, all he had known for such a long time he started to doubt there was actually something else. The cities and places he remembered, the people, the prophecies of his creators, so full of twisted bliss; all of them so distant they seemed fragments of a dream.

But darkin did not dream. There was no sleep, nor a moment of respite in that never ending nothingness he was confined in.

'Don not forget, Rhaast'.

He did not forget. Sometimes he wished he did.

Remembering was as much as his salvation as it was his never ending torture. He remembered the scorched fields, the smoke of war, filling his core with a desperate desire he could not satiate. He was impotent, tortured by those memories of what he could no longer attain, torn apart from the inside as if they were made of blades.

He wished he could throw them away so he stopped feeling all this misery for the things lost, for all he couldn't have. He was trapped, chained, his weapon body a burden he never though he would feel. And he was alone.

Where were his brothers, his sisters? Where they confined too, maddened by the curse of oblivion?

'Do not forget, Rhaast'.

“I don't”, he spoke to the Darkness. The only response he got was the metallic echo of his own voice, muffled by the soil.

As much as he despised them, it felt relieving to feign a conversation with the ghosts in his mind. The whispers never ceased, tormenting him, but sometimes they were better than the unbearable silence. Others, he was so sick of them he let time go by saying nothing, thinking about nothing, just feeling a frustration that never got away.

Those moments could go on for hours, days, months. He didn't know anymore. Sometimes they would get interrupted by a distant sound; a vibration on the earth, unknown and distant cracking and squeaking.

Once in a while, little vermin would find him. Rhaast could feel them before they even got close; their life sparkling like distant, faint stars. He could hear the scratching of their little claws, their sniffing and the fast beating of their small hearts. Some of them would wriggle their snouts with curiosity, only to be immediately consumed as soon as they touched the cold surface of the weapon.

He was hungry. He was starving. He had been for an eternity. He would feast on those creatures, even if their life was extinguished in seconds, even if they weren't more than a breath in an infinite sea of void.

And then, when only blackened bones and ashes remained, silence and emptiness would came back, and the Darkness would grew powerful, and he would feel so little, so lost, so nothing.

'Do not forget, Rhaast'.

“Silence”, he ordered. Begged.

Freedom was all he wished for. Freedom to go out, to walk again, to bring chaos and destruction and so much death and pain. To let all the rage out, get lost in blissful bloodlust, find the fulfilment he so desperately needed in performing his ancient purpose. His core demanded it, pleaded for it.

He wanted freedom to let go. To cast his memories away and stop feeling that denial, that hunger, that despair. He would sacrifice his sanity and his will in order to stop being torn by that excruciating pain. He would do anything, anything...

Anything except forget.

'Do not forget, Rhaast'.

“Just let me go”. If he could only let those memories go.

Sometimes he felt so disconnected from the images in his mind that he couldn't even recognise himself. That Rhaast couldn't be him. That creature in the battlefield, so fierce, so strong, so full of bright passion and purpose, surrounded by his brethren, couldn't be him; immobile and weak and alone in the dark.

But who was he, then, if not Rhaast? What was he? Just a consciousness lost in the Darkness. How it laughed at him now, seeing him so miserable.

Rhaast. Why couldn't he be like the other Rhaast, free? What happened to the world he remembered, so full of life, compliant and ready to be destroyed?

'Do not forget, Rhaast'.

He wanted to forget. Let the silence sink in, let the darkness take hold, and be gone. Be gone, be gone, be gone, be gone...

He was not Rhaast. He was nothing except Rhaast. It was so hard to decide, so hard to gather his being into a single vision when he was so torn apart, his mind was shattering and he was loosing himself in the cracks, over and over...

Then a sound. A light in the dark.

The litany bewildering him like a curse suddenly broke, and Rhaast became very aware of himself for the first time in an eternity.

He felt it. He saw it. Beyond the stirred earth and the confusion, so much sound around him, deafening. There was heat, the dim aura of a person, much bigger and brighter than the pests he had been feeding on. He could hear the fingers scraping the soil with caution, as lost as he had been.

But they brought light to Rhaast, nothing more than a white spot at first that grew with each second until there was a window of blinding light.

It was so pure, so painful to see... It illuminated the earth prison he was trapped in, shattering away the Darkness. Rhaast could almost hear the panicked shriek it made as it went away.

A face appeared amongst the light. A young boy, with curly hair and a dirty tan looking with wonder at the thing he had unearthed by the most unexpected of chances. The shape of the scythe was distinguishable, a polished surface of grey and a dull red, dirty with mud but without a trace of rust on it.

The boy's gloved hand hovered over the strange weapon until the sphere in the centre opened, revealing a single, red, glowing eye, full of all that was evil in the world. He screamed in surprise, falling back.

Rhaast remained still, overwhelmed by the amount of sensations he was receiving after an eternity of isolation. The light, so blinding even when it was just sunrise. The sounds, the soft whisper of the wind and the chirping of birds and the distant babbling of water; so deafening. The dryness, the warmness...

But all of that paled in comparison to the life energy presented in front of him. The hunger it awakened from him was unreal, the thirst so strong it made him desperate. With every new heartbeat inside the boy's chest memories came back, powerful, his purpose renewed following the rhythm like a drum.

'Do not forget, Rhaast'.

He had not forgotten. He never will.

“Will you prove yourself worthy?”

His voice came out louder than any other time he remembered having spoken, and the only one when it really mattered. Soggy and fierce and demanding, his words coming from nowhere startled the invader of his confinement. His saviour.

“Come”, Rhaast spoke again, tempting promises dripping from every letter into the mind of the boy. Power, strength, victory... all of that he could provide. There was fear in the human's heart, and it was so sweet to taste, so satisfying...

Like a wanderer through the desert that finally found an oasis to satiate his thirst, Rhaast saw all his hopes taking shape when the boy slowly started to reach towards him, with an unsteady, shaky hand. Curiosity and greed guided the gesture, and the darkin would never have guessed it would be so easy.

The child was lost the moment his fingers touched the hilt. Rhaast found his way inside with ease.

Surprise made way for panic, but when the boy tried to let go of him, it was to late. The darkin's malevolent consciousness got inside him, filling his veins like poison. The burning tendrils of his power touched his human essence and his flesh, corrupting it irredeemably. Skin started to tear and turn red, dark carapace protruding from inside like claws. But worst was the attack on his mind: it opened the boy from inside out, allowing the darkin to steal his feelings and thoughts, drinking from them like a life stream.

And it was so fulfilling at first, to feel the flesh bended under his touch, to see the images of a world he had been denied for so long. Fields of green, tall cities of grey stone and proud red standards, the distant smoke of an unknown war, the battle cry of warriors and victorious citizens...

But as his power extended inside the screaming boy, as his flesh was being twisted and transformed into something alien without turning back, Rhaast understood.

This was not a good vessel. It was too young, to weak. Feeble limbs, diseased lungs, a will broken with too much ease.

It was not worthy.

Rhaast froze as the realization sank in and then raised again in the form of a boiling wave of fury. The darkin scythe started to vibrate and his eye burned in red.

He screamed, and his voice drowned his failed host’s last lament, covered completely in dark carapace. Red cracks started to appear on the surface as Rhaast’s power flew uncontrollably inside him, filling him more and more when there wasn’t enough space to contain it all. Terror and pain were the last things the boy felt as he heard the darkin’s furious roar, full of denial and desperation.

The body broke. It made a disgusting sound as flesh and bones torn apart and the chest opened up in half, spilling red meat and corrupted blood.

The fingers that were holding him broke too, and the connection was lost. Once again, Rhaast was alone, half buried into dark soil. The sound that followed was the soft crackling of flesh slowly burning to ashes.

The darkin looked at what he had done. The inside of the corpse -it was impossible that thing was still alive- glowed with a red light that was becoming dimmer as seconds passed. Light shaped its broken ribs, its mouth opened in agony and the empty sockets of its eyes. The solid carapace that has covered the boy's body was slowly eroding and melting, and soon only a dark stain would be left.

Silence came back. Darkness turned his glance again to Rhaast in the form of a cold air, stronger now that the human presence was gone. His eye was looking at an empty sky for the first time in aeons, but he felt trapped. Nothing had changed; he was still there, forgotten, and soon the dirt will cover him again, cutting him off reality once more. Darkness was already nagging his snath with so much possessiveness...

Rhaast felt empty. Empty of strength or hope or future. He lost an opportunity that was never there in the first place, condemning himself to that prison once more.

Any pleasure, any euphoria he could have felt, was erased by the certainty of an eternity in isolation.

He closed his eye, tired and bitter and so furious. He said nothing, his own silence heavy on his core, until he could not take it anymore.

He screamed.

It was an angry, primal, terrible sound. It scratched the earth and disturbed the birds and the water, cracked the rocks around him and made the air vibrate as if even it was going to tear apart.

Rhaast screamed until his body seemed close to the breaking point, painful, metallic sounds escaping from his sharp angles.

The worst part was he knew once he stopped, the silence would came back again, swallowing him like the ocean swallowed a pebble in the shore.

How many times did he have to endure that? How long will he be able to maintain his sanity?

‘Do not forget, Rhaast’.

Silence. Darkness. Rhaast was tired. He let them engulf him whole.

This could have been the time when he finally lost himself if it wasn’t for the distant voices that suddenly came from far away, approaching. Not one, but many.

Where once was a boy, a small group of men appeared. Rhaast contemplated them with apathy, a tired, malicious feeling in his half lidded stare. The men whispered agitatedly between them when they saw him and the remnants of the boy. They wore the same clothes as him. They were probably from the same group.

“Come or leave”, the scythe spoke, startling them. Then added in a mumble, as he closed his eye: “None worthy...”

The whispers became more agitated. Rhaast, in his diluted state of mind, understood the word ‘darkin' and ‘weapon'. They knew what he was.

Two of the men left, leaving two more behind, watching him with distrustful eyes. Rhaast hoped one of them was ambitious enough to try to wield him and at the same time he didn't. He was so tired. Words failed him so he could not bribe them with anything that it wasn’t his menacing shape and an eye that opened from time to time, full of dark promises.

The men made turns to watch him, but none dared to get too close. They remained mostly silent, exchanging soft whispers as if they feared the scythe taking hold of their secrets. The darkin couldn’t have cared less.

After a while, more men came back. They brought with them chains and ropes and a strange red fabric covered in black runes.

They surrounded him. They unearthed and covered him. They tied him up.

Without even touching him, they started to drag him out. The men were shouting and someone was giving orders like she was chanting a spell. Rhaast didn’t acknowledge the fact that they were taking him away until the light of the sun touched directly the edge of his blade, filling him with a warm sensation.

It brought more to him, things that Rhaast was too numb to identify: hope, maybe; uncertainty, fear or euphoria.

‘Do not forget, Rhaast’.

Leaving the Darkness behind, he was taken out to the world of mortals.

[muutosarchive]

nenarabia​:

     there  was  an  atmosphere  of  impending  doom  and  its  surprising  that  nobody  was  going  through  cardiac  arrests.  it  was  an  occurrence  that  happened  when  both  siblings  were  in  the  same  vicinity.  a  flicker  showed  his  true  face  for  a  moment  ,  rotting  flesh  mixed  with  oozing  of  what  could  be  described  as  tar.  human  hands  reached  for  his  cellular  phone  ,  not  a  modern  one.  this  one  wasn’t  connected  to  any  network  and  was  solely  used  to  take  snapshots  of  his  victims.  bela’s  grin  seemed  to  widen  ,  dark  eyes  glowing  as  he  slid  the  phone  toward  them.  tongue  swiping  across  his  lips  as  the  small  ounce  of  pain  maggie  was  currently  inflicting  him  with.  “ my  hand  slipped  with  this  one. ”  he  let  out  a  manic  laugh  ,  gaze  as  crazy  as  ever  as  he  glanced  down  at  the  small  screen  displaying  an  older  man  sliced  in  two.  “  i  danced  with  his  entrails ! “  he  mused  as  if  it  was  the  most  normal  thing  in  existence  and  it  was  ,  to  them  at  least.  finger  pressed  the  arrow  ,  this  time  a  woman  missing  half  a  jaw.  a  manic  giggle  ,  “  i  forget  how  fragile  these  vermin  are  … “  a  distorted  voice  as  the  room  seemed  to  grow  dark  ,  his  hatred  from  humans  causing  him  to  go  irate.  it  would  take  his  sibling  to  remind  him  of  where  they  were  ,  out  in  public  ,  close  enough  to  cause  a  great  disturbance. 

they ought to be careful - yet, neither of them are particularly good at that. they’ve been known to cause  f r e a k  occurrences, in humans - mass heart attacks & other such illnesses. madness, fevers - aneurysms. you name it. things that have long sparked confusion, as nobody could ever identify the cause... there’s sound of someone vomiting, to their left - but, they pay it no mind. they can see when bela’s face  t w i s t s,  for a moment - & they should tut him - but they do not. a tongue resting against top tier of teeth. they dig claws into him further as he begins to thumb through his device.. moving impossibly further in, as their eyes turn yellow - pupils almond shaped, like a cat. smile stretching past their cheeks. though they reign that in. a   r a t t l i n g   sound coming from their throat, briefly. & then the phone is slid, & eyes flicker towards it before their hand move from bela’s, & snatches up the hand held camera like a bolt of lightning struck from the heavens above. smile gone like a subsequent aftershock, with lip between their teeth & eyes intent - pupils dilating, as they look at the pictures. bela more akin to an abstract artist, in the way he deals with fear. but his laugh & his words bring their previous expression back - like the record slowed, & was now back to playing at full speed. their own deep laugh, echoing his own. prompting someone’s nose to start dripping blood into crimson wine. to just imagine him doing such things, causes their tongue to dart out & over their lips. natural & unnatural, in the same beat. though she lets the phone fall to the table to let bela control it, looking downward to the new photo. heart fluttering, pumping tar through their veins. hand reaching, to hover over their chest. lights flickering, as they too possess a demented tone, lining the vessel’s. this finally causes them to peer over, & see the sick & pain riddled around them. “yes..” ‘s’ sounds draw forth. “& they’re fragile enough to decay, before our eyes.” they reach over, to their brother’s wrist again. “we must be more discreet, brother. or they’ll all drop dead like little flies.” neck tilts, monstrously - tongue flickering, as they look out to the masses once again. their own withdrawal causing lights to steady, once again.

[juichi-bey]

Blight Stuff!!

Yeap, I’m gone for 10 years and I come back simply to post stuff that nobody cares about in the middle of night when I should be sleeping. But check this out, it’s kind of interesting.

Okay so like I’ve been thinking a LOT about Blight ever since I left him, and I decided upon a lot of stuff regarding the characters and shifted a lot of stuff. Here’s the updates:

Siblings- Blight gets two Brothers. An older brother, and a younger brother, making him the middle one. The older brother is more of a sacrificial lamb, and the younger is an actual character that’s gonna be so full of potential that he potentially could have his own series. I’ll probably save his reveal until the end of the series (but hint it through the entirety of them).

Companions- Previous characters labelled as “Villains” become companions. The characters affected are Plague, The Vermin, and Erzsébet Báthory, The Blood Countess. Previously Plague would remain as a “Chivalrous Villain”, often shown to do bad things due to being forced and readers sympathizing with him, but now he will officially join Blight as a friend in later arcs (briefly). As for Erzsébet, she was originally supposed to remain a villain, but due to various lengths of considerations she will briefly join Blight’s party, before leaving and becoming an “On-Off” member of his team due to moral issues.

Team- Blight’s Group will be bigger than ever! Originally Blight’s Party would have never been larger than 3, but due the reasons mentioned above now it will hold as many as 5 at a certain point in the story!

Time Line- The timeline has been slightly changed to edit the ages of certain characters at certain giving turning points of the story.

Aaaand that’s about it. I also edited the story to completely remove Bruce Wayne from it (but I’m like stuffing it away deep within the entrails of the earth so that if DC Comics is ever like “Oh we love Blight, tell us what direction you plan on taking with him” I can pull out that script and be like BAT!MAN!SON!) but that was always a given since I started lol. In any case good night y’all~!

[0nward]

Abominable Putridity - Entrails Full Of Vermin (Reconstructed Video)

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Abominable Putridity  -  Entrails Full of Vermin

[lzieeee-blog]

Lzieの好きな曲だけまとめたの Part2

謎企画、第二弾

今回も締め切りに追われている中の作成です･･･

前回はバンド曲が多く色々アレでしたが今回からはアニメソングもボチボチ入ってくる･･･ハズ

(ちなみ前回なんですけどリンク飛ぶと思いっきり再生リストも見れるらしく、恥ずかしいわ！！！ってことで今回は飛びません)

YUKI - 長い夢

今聞くとだいぶ世界観が強過ぎて圧倒されます。

単純なアルペジオのリフレインの効果なのかな･･･今聞いてもくるものあります

小倉結衣＆民安ともえ - LOVE LOVE WARS

おとなり恋戦争！とい��Sugar HouseのエロゲOPです

電波ソングに近いものを感じます

中川かのん - ハッピークレセント

神のみぞ知るセカイの劇中キャラである中川かのんの曲です

アイドルって設定なのでまぁそれっぽい曲って感じが好き

complex.0 - pppulse rifle

ロリコアとのファーストコンタクト時に出会った曲です、･･･けどロリコアなのかはイマイチわからない･･･

久々に聞いて思い出したので詳細が僕もわからないです

Korn - Falling Away From Me

Kornの中でも群を抜いて好きな曲。

このバンドコピーするためだけに七弦かおうとしたことがありました(マジ)

死際サテライト - 戦慄オルレアン

東方アレンジバンドでお馴染み死際サテライト。

全部の音源は手に入れてないけど最初に THE GHOST IN MY ROOM EPを手にとって聞いたのでやっぱこの曲だな～ってなります

後ろから這いより隊Ｇ - 恋は渾沌の隷也 (Yuuna Kamishiro Remix)

SAN値の方のユーロビートmix。この頃は頭文字Dにハマっていたこともありユーロビートを割りと掘ってました

odaxelagnia - Polssia!

個人的に織田といえばこの曲！！というやつ。

もすかうって正しい発音Polssiaなんですかね?

Le Scrawl - Eager to Please

なんと形容したらいいのか迷うバンド。英語だとGrind Ska Bandだったかな？

グラインドコア＋スカ＝アホを体現したバンドだと思います。

Igorrr - Brutal Swing

ブレイクコアにハマったきっかけの曲であるIgorrrです。

ブレイクビーツが目立つというよりはブラストビートとかが目立つのがIgorrrだと思います。

この頃はブラストを使うバンドとか、スピードコアにハマっていた為そのもろもろの要素が複合してきたものということで興味を惹かれて好きになりました

Abominable Putridity - Entrails Full Of Vermin

Kraaniumがカバーしているので知ったバンド。

1:50からの畳み掛けるようなリフの嵐が好きです。

Cerebral Bore - The Bald Cadaver

女性ボーカルでグロウルとかといえば物足りないんだよな～というイメージを完全にぶち壊されたバンド

Nasty Maid Grinder - Similar Shit than Track 3 of Previous Album with More Elaborated Beat

みんな大好きNMG。声ネタ使いが完璧だし、とにかく好き(語彙力低下)

LOLIPO - Ecology Pla

この頃はオタクスピードヴァイブなんてイベント知りませんでした。この曲ホント好きなのでロリポさんこっそりデータ渡して欲しいです

LOLIPO EPまだですか？(いつもの)

Platinum Disco by Yuka Iguchi ~ REMIX   

誰のリミックスかはわからないです(土下座)

Dixie Flatline - Just Be Friends

名曲ですよね。2009年(?)くらいの曲ってことで色々ショック受けてます

榊原ゆい - メチャ恋らんまん☆

＼（　＾ヮ゜）＞＼（　＾ヮ゜）＞＼（　＾ヮ゜）＞＼（　＾ヮ゜）＞

橋本みゆき - 夢見るままに恋をして

ぱれっとから出てるましろ色シンフォニー(PSP版)のOP曲です

誰がなんと言おうと瀬名愛理がメインヒロインです

ましろ色は劇中BGMもかなり良かったイメージあります。

エロゲ版のシンフォニック・ラブとかEDのさよなら君の声とかボーカルトラックも良い曲揃いなんで是非買おう！！

片霧烈火 - 一生モノ☆

ensembleからの黙って私のムコになれ！のOP曲

片桐烈火はこの路線でバンバン出して欲しい･･･

民安ともえ - だっこしてぎゅっ! 〜汝、隣の枕（よめ）を愛せ

Tactics*Latteから出てるエロゲ、だっこしてぎゅっ! 〜オレの嫁は抱き枕〜のOP･･･だった気がします。

まさにTHE電波ソングな一曲。急にお嫁にしなさいっ！を彷彿とさせるような落とし方したり文句なし(どっちが先なのかは知らないです)

小宮真央 - ちっぱいぱん

ちっぱいぱんCDの曲ですね。この頃の同人音楽って全部こんなんだったんですかね？(偏見の目)

小学生の頃つられて聞いたけど、今聞いても歌詞がまぁ酷くて･･･セリフシーンを抜粋しますと･･････

おまたがぬれぬれになっちゃってしゅごっ！ 　じゃあ、つぎはいよいよおまんこにずっぽしずっぽしっ！ 　だいにかいせんもイケルよね？　だいにじおまんこたいせんっ！ 　だいにじすーぱーおまんこたいせんあるふぁぁぁああっ！ 　あたしうえっ、きじょーいがいいっ！ 　こちんこちんのおちんちんをもって、いれます、いれますっ！ 　ちゅぷっって、はいった、ちんぽがはいった！

･･･小宮真央といえば、何気に組曲『ニコニコ動画』を歌ってたり(めちゃ声可愛い)、俺の中のアンセムツンデレのうた!を歌ってたり、ラーメンズネタが元の路上のギリジンを歌ってたり･･･・・・何気に小宮真央の声を聞いて育ってきた人 (オタクに限り) 多いんじゃないでしょうか？

今回から一つ一つ思いでなりなんらかの感想を添えることにしました。

ここまでで、6/26です

[riskibusiness]

This just seemed too perfect: “It’s cute that you tried to protect me and all, but you’re like a foot shorter than me, you know?”

The Drowning Wench was bustling, full of people and drinks and raucous conversations. Riski didn’t need to be there scoping out potential jobs, but that didn’t stop him from sitting at the bar with a pint of ale and listening to the flow of chatter around him. So far there hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary: a few sketchy ship’s crews who were dumb enough to fall for Yellowjacket traps; some small illicit drug deals, mostly somnus; and, of course, That One Guy who never failed to turn up whenever people gathered.

It was rarely the same person, but it was always the same type. He was loud and brash and belligerent for the sake of being obnoxious. Most people tried to steer clear of him, but with so many people there were the unlucky few who had the misfortune to be pushed too close.

“So, what, you think you’re some kinda tough guy?” The belligerent asshole was sneering. “Think you’re better than the rest of us ‘lower races’, do ya knife-ear?” He stabbed his index finger into the bare chest of a tall, coolly composed Elezen man who was staring down his very regal nose at him. Riski had to admit, if the jerk was trying to pick a race fight he had certainly chosen a stunning example of the Elezen people.

Now was not the time to be admiring the Elezen’s handsome profile. Not with the antagonistic Highlander carrying on like he was. From Riski’s seat at the bar it looked like the Elezen was trying to talk him down with calm reason, but the other man was having none of it. He jabbed the Elezen in the chest again, grinding his fingernail against cool, violet-tinted skin.

When the Highlander went for a shove, knocking the Elezen backward into a full table of revelers, Riski sighed theatrically and rose to his feet. He wasn’t going to get into any trouble that would require backup. Worst case scenario he might find himself in the middle of a bar brawl. He’d survived worse. “Hey!” Riski shouted, making his way across the short distance to the asshole’s corner hangout with relative ease; people parted before him, not wanting to get involved in something that might interrupt their drinks.

“Leave the guy alone, huh?” Riski said, stepping between the Highlander and the Elezen with his hands planted firmly on his hips - and directly above the twin daggers that hung from his belt. “Some of us are just trying to have a drink in peace here.”

“Knife-ears just coming out of the woodwork, ain’t they?” The man sneered down at Riski from hid superior height, giving Riski a momentary flicker of annoyance about that touchy subject. But the true insult here wasn’t the fickle nature of genetics, and Riski squashed the frustration down. “Like rats. Filthy, stinking, swarming, disease-riddled vermin. Almost as bad as Miqo'te.”

Unlike the other Elezen, who had wisely stepped to the side, Riski didn’t have any calming words of logic for the racist trashbag. Instead, he hauled his clenched fist back and punched the hostile, man-shaped sack of morbol entrails in the face. When the man yelled, dropping his tankard in order to grab ineffectively at his broken and bleeding nose, Riski grinned over his shoulder and winked at the man the Highlander had been troubling. “See ya.”

Riski left the Hyur howling on the floor and beat a hasty retreat out onto the docks. He made it as far as the central circle of the Aftcastle before he slowed from a jog to just walking normally. That had been fun, actually. He hadn’t realized he’d been itching for a confrontation until he was in it. But, by the Fury, it had felt good to punch that bastard.

A voice behind Riski made him glance back over his shoulder. His violet eyes widened in surprise when he realized the Elezen from the tavern had followed after him. “Oh, uh, hey,” Riski said with an easy grin. “Sorry to ditch you back there. Figured you’d prefer not to be too involved, you know?”

The other Elezen cleared his throat, looking a little awkward. He seemed friendly enough at least. “It’s cute that you tried to protect me and all,” he said, the use of the words 'cute’ making Riski immediately start feeling defensive. “But you’re like a foot shorter than me, you know?”

Riski frowned and crossed his arms, looking up into the stranger’s unfairly handsome face. “What’s height got to do with anything?” He asked tartly, lifting his chin to give the impression of looking down despite actually having to look up. “We can’t all be as tall as you are, hot stuff.” Oh, had he said it out loud? Oh well. “Next time don’t bother talking to guys like that. Just deck 'em. Otherwise they’ll never shut up.”

[liliscarlet]

Unbound covering Abominable Putridity- Entrails full of vermin