#gloom lipstick

[adalynnlove]

Pickin' Apples in the Rain

The falling leaves drift by my windowThe falling leaves of red and gold“Autumn Leaves” – Eva Cassidy I feel like its been forever since I last blogged Le’la Designs by ღ Mia Rosy ღ (miamilu), with being off blogging most of last month and visiting family. So it feels good to slip into her designs again. Today I am bringing you her new Hiral Outfit released exclusively at SWANK for this…

[lokisgoodgirl]

Believe Me [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Home from a mission in the dead of night, Loki requires absolution (w/c 1.4k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smutty. Avenger!Loki. Established relationship. Mild sub!loki, non-toxic jealously, 'authorised' mild infidelity (missions, innit).

You had dozed, slipping between the fleeting embrace of slumber. Snatches came and went, the cool of your pillow turning hot before you turned it again.

Fat feathers crisped as you lowered your head. The finest Asgardian goose. Loki insisted. With each wave of consciousness, you tried not to think of your lover destructively flirting his way through a honeytrap mission tonight. The poor mark didn’t stand a chance. You checked the clock. 03.23.

But something feels different.

Sitting up, you squinted beyond the darkness.

On the far side of the room, a wing-back chair rose in the gloom. The draped silk of your discarded robe still hung over the armrest, but it shimmered. It was moving. Black became grey as your eyes adjusted, seeing pale fingers weaving silk between them.

You saw him now.

Legs crossed, back straight and chin dipped as he watched you sleep while he bathed in shadow. Curls sat effortlessly back from his face, slices of cheekbone protruding from blackest night.

The shade of his suit was at one with the leather behind, but Loki’s bright eyes smouldered; embers of starlight and dying galaxies deep in the darkness. “I didn’t wish to wake you, love” he murmured, pulling the silk hem through his fingers a final time before letting it fall.

One long leg unfurled over the other, the click of his heel meeting the floor making you clench beneath the bed-covers. You were wet already. So wet. Like your body could sense his presence, if not yet your mind. She always could.

Like a dream, you cast the duvet back and rose; bare feet padding across the boards towards him. Cool air sent gooseflesh rippling up your thighs, your arms; the curves of your body protected only by a flimsy camisole. Only a few more steps. The leather of the chair squeaked as his thighs spread against the sides. “Loki,” you breathed, cupping his face.

No sooner had the name left your lips than a row of candles flickered to life, illuminating him from behind. They floated in the air, rivulets of wax already spilling soft rolls down the sides. “Hel-lo,” he purred teasingly. One eyebrow cocked. And the threat of a smirk pressing against his cheeks.

For the first time, you noticed his unusual attire. A three piece suit, with its crowning glory the drip of starched ruffles cascading down his chest to the high waist of his trousers. He shifted in the chair, the pad of a fingertip brushing a close-lipped smile.

“Steve really went Ken-doll on you tonight, huh?” you teased, mirth ebbing to renewed desire as he drew the fingers to the bow-tie fastened at his neck.

He shrugged, tugging it slowly, letting the silk unfurl. It hung perfectly around his collar. You wondered if he would tie you up with it. You hoped he would.

In a flash, two large hands cupped your ass, pulling you down to his lap. With a gasp you managed to straddle him, slotting your knees on either side of his thick trunk. You kissed him deeply, savouring the softness of his tongue as it welled and licked and loved you. The ceremony was about to begin. His fingers spread against your cheeks, pulling and massaging as he groaned into your throat.

He tasted like jealousy. Traces of expensive perfume lingering on his skin and the faint hang of some rich whisky doing its best to conceal it. A thrill flooded through you, imagining the mark's desire roaring through her blood as she felt his muscle ripple beneath her touch. But Loki would never betray you, not beyond the emotionless tactics his position required.

Your thumb skated up his cheek, catching a patch of forgotten lipstick near his ear. Forgotten? No. You knew better than that. Whenever Loki came home from ensnaring a target with his wiles, he never missed the chance to make sure you knew who he belonged to. It was a mission. It was nothing. But ceremony must be upheld. His lips waxed and waned deeper, firing passion setting you alight. Every swallow was harsher and deeper than the last. Like he might lose you in the darkness. Loki grunted wetly as you scooted closer on his lap, chest flush to your colossus of a lover while his fingers wound in your hair. Your digits slid down his chest, feeling the ropes of muscle bound beneath starched folds. You broke apart just long enough to whisper the question he was waiting for. "You had to kiss this one?" You let the playful mist of a snarl hang on the air. Loki growled in response while you began working down his chin, along the long blade of his jawline. Letting the tip of your tongue run over the angle of his bone structure.

“Yes,” he rasped while you dropped lower, fastening to the slender muscle of his neck. You took a moment to appreciate his Adam’s apple work as he swallowed hard, ragged breaths ripping the air. His head fell back. “Only for a minute,” he panted to the ceiling. “It was perfunctory.”

Honestly from the god of lies, you’d found, was the greatest aphrodisiac of all.

“Where?” you asked, closing your eyes against his skin. “Against the wall,” he choked. His breaths were short. Loki’s fingernails grazed down the exposed skin between your shoulder-blades while you began to gently gyrate in circles. The god’s thick cock snaked down his thigh, ferociously hard against the tight fabric. At the mercy of your movements.

His brow creased as you slid back and forth, wetted lips parting with a needy gasp. “Did she want you?” you goaded, sliding the heel of your palm over one of his cheekbones. It raked through his hair. "Of course," he strummed, thighs beginning to tremble beneath your hips. Loki's hands ran in worship up the curve of your waist. "And did you want her?" you asked coyly. Loki pouted before a gentle tug of the camisole made your breasts spilled into his waiting hands. “Never,” he breathed; eyes flashing dangerously as he lifted them to meet yours. “Never.” You slid a hand down his torso, through the mass of white foliage ruffles which lapped against your palm in flickering candlelight. They were hard, and yet soft. Just like him. And stiff. That too, was a common attribute.

Slowly, you reached the button of his trousers. Loki thrust into the touch, biting his lip with a flinch. His brows knitted together.

One button popped beneath your fingers. Then two.

He leant forward, pushing your cleavage together and burying his face deep. The god’s nose slotted perfectly between the mounds of flesh he sought, drowning himself in the scent of you. The feel of you. His muffled moans of anticipation made you squirm on his lap, rubbing your bare pussy against his sprung manhood.

Pants and wet grunts of desire filled the air before Loki surfaced, kissing manically up the path to your lips. He consumed you again, his palm skating up the nape of your neck in a violent embrace. Waves of stiff ruffles grazed your nipples, sending electric shocks of pleasure to your dripping core. Had you ever needed him more than this? You were certain you had. But you couldn’t remember when.

Loki’s hands massaged your ass, pulling you deeper against his face. His shirt ruffles scratched your inner thighs, the tender caress making you mewl his name to the ceiling.

“Say you believe me,” he gasped in desperation.

It was a dark prayer. And a desperate one, at that. A ring of saliva was smeared across his lower face. The words chanted on repeat as your searching fingers lined him up between your slick thighs.

“Say you believe me,” he pleaded, slurring. His throat clung to the final syllable, rasping it through a torturous exhale.

The tip of his cock jarred against your slit, a sticky mess of pre-cum and arousal webbing with each slow buck. He was trembling with the effort of resistance.

He would not. Not until the ceremony of his forgiveness was complete.

You looked down at him, head resting against the back of the chair. Carefully coiffured hair now hung around his cheekbones, jutting at mussed angles. Half-lidded eyes observed you with reverence, submission. A pilgrim awaiting absolution. You smiled. Leaning in, you traced the taut vein popping in his neck. Felt every bob and tighten as he swallowed on your ascent. The little mewls from his pretty lips. And all the while, his hips rocked; cock licking and caressing your glistening sex.

The swirl of your tongue tasted bitter. Remnants of perfume from her wrists as she wound her arms around his neck, perhaps. But it would be gone soon. It always was. They always were. And you? You remained. You always did.

You reached the soft skin beneath his ear, humming a little before sucking his delicate lobe between your lips. “I believe you, baby” you whispered.

It was no more than a breath. The truth needs no more than a breath, you’d found. And with a broken sob of gratitude, Loki felt you sink deep onto his leaking cock.

Tags

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[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: On Colour

Describing Colour in your Poetry and Stories

BLACK Shadow Black, Dusk, Midnight, Blackbird, Blackberry, Ebony, Black Honey, Darkness, Jet Black, Ink Black, Soot, Onyx, Licorice, Ivory Black, Pitch, Char, Gloom, Outer Space, Creosote Black, Melanite, Goth Black, Gunpowder

BLUE Blueberry, Sapphire Blue Metallic, Tiffany Blue (Pantone 1837), Cobalt Blue, Denim, Aquamarine, Turquoise, Sky Blue, Topaz, Ultramarine Blue, Azure, Cerulean, Oxford Blue, Periwinkle, Electric Blue, Baby Boy Blue, Pthalo Blue, Robin's Egg Blue, Persian Blue, Marino Blue, Prussian Blue

GREEN Leafy Green, Olive, Moss Green, Jade, Lime, Sour Apple Green, Emerald Green, Mint, Kiwi Green, Phthalo Green, Praying Mantis Green, Viridian, Greenback, Shamrock, Sap Green, Chartreuse, Sea Green, Pistachio, Teal, Bamboo, Sea Salt, Celadon Green, Celery, Asparagus Green, Fern Green, Neon Green, Jungle Green, Pear Green

ORANGE Pumpkin, Burnt Orange, Carrot, Sunset Orange, Tangerine, Persimmon, Salamander, Tennessee Orange (Pantone 151), Jack-o'-lantern Orange, Florida Orange, Summer Squash, Pale Daffodil, Smashed Pumpkin, Saffron, Autumn Orange, Macaroni and Cheese, Cadmium Orange

PINK Pink Flamingo, Neon Pink, Bubblegum Pink, Salmon, Peach, Fuscia, Cotton Candy Pink, Rose, Carnation, Thulian, Apricot, Atomic Pink, Barbie Pink, Hot Pink, Amaranth, Flushed, Glitter Pink

PURPLE Lavender, Purple Haze, Grape, Eggplant Purple, Plum, Violet, Orchid, Psychedelic Purple, Amethyst, Lilac, Boysenberry, Mulberry, Wisteria, Bruised Plum, Indigo, Mauve

RED Blood Red, Copper, Maroon, Strawberry, Watermelon Red, Crimson, Candy Apple Red, Tomato, Brick Red, Scarlet, Cardinal Red, Cherry, Ruby Red, Coral, Sunburn, Hot Lava, Cadmium Red, Auburn, Blush, Alizarin Crimson, Fire Engine Red, Raspberry, Vermillion, Lipstick, Burgundy, Magenta, English Vermilion, Mahogany

WHITE Dirty White, Albino, Chalk, Alabaster, Cotton, Titanium White, Vanilla, Bone White Egg Shell, Marshmallow, Ivory, Pearl White, Almond, Champagne, Blond, Cream, Milky White, Corn Silk, Bleach, Navajo White, Ghost White, Light, Cloud White

YELLOW Canary Yellow, Lemon, Banana, Egg Yolk Yellow, Mellow Yellow, Chanterelle, Mustard Yellow, Corn, Goldenrod, Amber, Pineapple, Metallic Gold, Cadmium Yellow, Wheat, Tuscan Sun, Butter, School Bus Yellow, Yellow Ochre, Citron, Dandelion

BROWN Mud Brown, Beaver, Caramel, Rust, Macaroon, Toasty Brown, Coffee, Sandy Tan, Cocoa, Honey, Chocolate, Burnt Sienna, Mocha, Seashell, Antique Brass, Bronze, Brown Sugar, Chestnut Brown, Taupe, Burnt Umber, Khaki, Dark Sienna, Light Chocolate, Sepia

GRAY Stone Gray, Ash, Metallic Silver, Platinum, Smoke, Concrete Gray, Mercury, Steel Gray, Mist, Titanium, Charcoal, Slate, Sterling Silver, Tungsten, Old Coin Gray, Iron Gray, Chrome, Magnesium, Overcast

MIXED Candy Cane (red and white), Zebra (black and white), Chameleon (many different colours), Ladybug (black and red), Wildfire (yellow, orange and red), Tiger (orange, black and white), Yellow Jacket (black and yellow), Christmas Lights (red, white and green), Rainbow (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet), Black Pepper (black and gray), Leopard (spotted gold and black), Creamsicle (orange and white), Candy Corn (orange and white), Iceberg (a bluish gray), Marbled

COLOURS: Symbolisms, Associations & Psychological Effects

Black. Especially in Gothic literature from the West, a black colour choice often represents death, evil, grief, and depression. Associated with fear, the unknown and often has a negative connotation. Black clothes can make you look thinner. A black background severely diminishes the readability of most type. Often the go to colour for funerals and grieving. It symbolizes stability and power, which gives a sense of authority. Thus, the black colour often represents professionalism and expertise.

Blue. Has positive and negative connotations in colour psychology. Some writers may use blue to represent serenity and tranquility, instilling a scene with a calming effect. Blue can also signify sadness, melancholy, or isolation. People who find someone very loyal and faithful are often called "true blue". Blue is often considered to be more masculine which is why it is often the colour of choice when choosing a suit. Lighter blues are associated with tranquility, softness and healing. Darker blues are associated with power, knowledge and seriousness. Blue is actually shown to suppress appetites a bit. The colour blue symbolizes wisdom and hope. It’s the colour of peace and confidence. Blue has been shown to reduce blood pressure and pulse rate. It fosters serenity and a sense of belonging.

Green. The colour green often symbolizes rebirth, growth, peace, jealousy, and greed. Green colours may also represent spring and renewal. It is a colour that is very easy on the eyes. Dark green is often associated with ambition. Green suggests stability, safety and hope. At the same time, it may denote a lack of experience in a particular field. Green symbolizes peace, growth, and nature. It is the colour of success, promoting healing and tranquility.

Orange. The colour orange often represents energy, excitement, joy, and creativity. Since orange is the colour of fire, it may also symbolize heat. Since orange is not as aggressive as red, it can actually stimulate brain activity. It is very useful to catch someone's attention, which is why it's used a lot to advertise food and toys.

Pink. The colour pink symbolizes love, kindness, femininity, innocence, and playfulness. Certain shades of pink can limit aggression. Pink may be associated with unconditional love and caring.

Purple. Often associated with royalty, the colour purple symbolizes bravery, spirituality, and luxury. Light purple usually brings up romantic or nostalgic feelings; while a darker shade can make you feel gloomy or sad.

Red. The colour red symbolizes some of the most powerful human emotions, like passionate love or lust. On the other side of the spectrum, this warm colour is also the colour of blood, often symbolizing anger, danger, and violence. It stimulates the appetite. Red is an emotionally intense colour associated with energy, danger, anger, passion and determination. The symbolic meaning associated with the colour red is passion, excitement, and love. It’s the colour of urgency, power, and desire. Red is said to boost hunger and is believed to inspire confidence and excitement. This colour has also been found to increase blood pressure and heart rate.

White. This primary colour traditionally symbolizes innocence, peace, and cleanliness. In Western cultures, the colour white also represents purity and virginity, while it symbolizes mourning in some East Asian cultures. Usually has positive connotations when used and thought of as safe. Associated a lot with healing, simplicity and sterility, which is why it's used in hospitals and healing centers as much as it is. The symbolic meaning of the colour white is truth and sometimes even indifference. It encourages feelings of safety and cleanliness. Clean, white clothes and linens show sterility since stains are easily visible. That’s why doctors and nurses frequently wear white lab coats and scrubs.

Yellow. Writers may use the colour yellow to symbolize creativity, happiness, optimism, and warmth—think of a yellow ray of sunlight poking out from a dark cloud. A common negative connotation of the color yellow is cowardice, popularized by the phrase “yellow-bellied.” Warming effect which stimulates body and mind. Gold is associated with the highest of luxury. When bright yellow is used with black it's one of the easiest colour combinations to see from long distances; when uses with lighter colours it's not so easy to see. Yellow ribbons are worn as a symbol of hope and used quite often to welcome home loved ones. Yellow is the colour of warmth, kindness, and happiness. It’s often associated with optimism and well-being and promotes energy.

Brown. This warm, earthy brown colour may symbolize dependability, comfort, and a sense of being grounded. Brown is also a neutral colour, and writers may use it to represent dullness and predictability. Brown is a colour that is related to very grounded traits such as simplicity, practicality, common sense and hard work. Can also be associated with those that are frugal and not too flashy.

Gray. Lighter grays are often thought of as more feminine while darker grays more masculine. Gray is considered by many to be a neutral colour; the perfect balance between light and dark / good and evil. Pop up the lighter grays and add a little shine to it, and thought immediately turns to silver, which correlates to wealth.

Sources & other related articles: 1 2 3 4 5

If these writing notes helped with your poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I'd love to read them!

[imnotavamp1r3]

♡ A guide to emo, goth, and scene! ♡

So since I see a lot of confusion over certain subcultures are and the differences between them, I thought I would make somewhat of a master post basically outlining the characteristics and differences of three aesthetics that I see misinterpreted a lot. If I do at any point get something wrong, feel free to correct me because I really don't intend to spread misinformation.

🎀 Emo

Emo is a music based subculture that first emerged in the 80s out of the hardcore scene. The name emo came from the music genre emocore, which was short for emotional hardcore. The fashion is typically pretty casual, with some staples being straightened and teased hair with a sideways fringe, black clothing, band shirts, arm warmers, sneakers, skinny jeans, fishnets, arm warmers, wide leg pants, studded belts, and merchandise from various properties like Emily The Strange, Nightmare Before Christmas, and Ruby Gloom.

Since the early days of emo, the music in the subculture has expanded outside of hardcore and post-hardcore, and has since gone on to include alternative rock, horror punk, metalcore, pop punk, and screamo. Some of the most prominent artists in the scene are Avril Lavigne, Blink 182, Fall Out Boy, Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, Pierce The Veil, and Sleeping With Sirens.

Since the subculture is mainly music based, fashion is not as important to being considered part of the scene. Therefore, not dressing in a specific way while listening to the music wouldn't make you a poser, but dressing emo while not listening to the music would. What is not considered emo is listening to a random genre of rock music. Bands like Metallica and Nirvana, while enjoyed by many emos, are not emo bands and therefore don't make someone emo. Furthermore, I can't believe I need to say this, but, contrary to what many people seem to think, kawaii people are also not emo. While it is common for kawaii people to listen to metal and other heavy music genres, their style is not at all similar to emo and they don't consider themselves as part of the subculture either.

🎀 Goth

Goth is probably the oldest subculture here, with it dating back to the 70s English punk scene, with bands like Siouxsie and the Banshees and The Cure pioneering the culture. The post-punk band Bauhaus' debut single 'Bela Lugosi's Dead,' a song inspired by the famous horror actor Bela Lugosi, who portrayed Dracula in the 1931 film adaptation and also starred in White Zombie which is a film that's typically referred to as the first zombie movie, is often considered the first gothic rock song.

Goth is a subculture with many different sub-subcultures. Some of the most popular are batcave, bubble goth, cyber goth (formerly referred to as gravers), death rock, mall goth (formerly known as spooky kids), nu goth, romantic goth, steampunk, vampire goth, and, my personal favourite, gothic lolita. Contrary to what many people think, I don't consider aesthetics like pastel goth (which I do love) to really be a part of goth since it doesn't have roots in goth. Obviously I'm not going to go over every substyle because that would take way too long and would have to require its own post, but some common staples in most of these styles is lots of black, horror-inspired imagery, very big teased hair, black or red lipstick (red was the most common in the earlier days), and very pale almost white skin. Therefore, e-girls and emos (e-girls especially) are not goth. Also, the fetishisation of the 'big tiddy goth girlfriend' is very demeaning and offensive to goths, as well as just not funny at all because of how it objectifies and reduces them to simply walking breasts who wear black.

Goth music is, in my opinion, some of the most accesible and palatable alternative music. The most popular genres are dark wave, electronic rock, gothic rock, industrial metal and rock, new wave, and post-punk. Some of the most popular bands are Bauhaus, Evanescence, Joy Division, Marilyn Manson, Rammstein, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Birthday Massacre, and The Cure.

🎀 Scene

Scene is an aesthetic that originated in the 2000s on the website MySpace as a derivative aesthetic to emo. Many scene kids were considered emo posers because of their unconventional style and the music they listened to, which included genres ranging from crunkcore to metalcore, often being considered 'trashy' by other subcultures. Despite all of the hate towards scene kids, many embraced their label and many of the most popular people in the subculture started being known as scene queens who are also often credited as the first influencers. This included people such as Ambrehhhisdead, LedaMonsterBunny, and Melissa Marie Green.

Some staples to the style are colourful clothes, straightened and teased hair with colourful raccoon hair extensions, the scene swoop fringe, brass knuckles or diamond necklaces, bows, leopard print, zebra print, colourful shorts, tutus, tight clothes, sunglasses, knee high converse, band shirts, and merchandise of characters like Gir from Invader Zim, Gloomy Bear, and Hello Kitty. Personally, I would consider the modern rendition of scene, scenecore, to be a different aesthetic that, while it is pretty similar to scene, typically borrows from aesthetics like glitchcore rather than emo or mcbling.

Scene music is pretty diverse in what it provides, as it ranges from very heavy genres such as deathcore and metalcore to more pop and rap adjacent genres like crunkcore and neon pop. Some of the most prominent artists are 3OH!3, All Time Low, Asking Alexandria, Blood on the Dance Floor (unfortunately), Bring Me The Horizon, Brokencyde, Cobra Starship, Dot Dot Curve, Jeffree Star, Ke$ha, Metro Station, and Millionaires. A lot of the music is known to ignore many of the typically conventions of music, with the lyrics often containing themes relating to partying and sex.

That's it, byeeeee! ˚｡⋆୨୧˚♡

[cheeriecherrymain]

Please can we have the conclusion to the lipstick ask? I wanna hear what Viktor has to say and how he's gonna apologize for being dumb

Final (fourth) Part!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

---

Viktor x fem!Reader (18+)

Content tags: enthusiastic blowjobs | face sitting | Viktor being kind of a tease | vaginal fingering

---

-You stand in your doorway, frozen. Of all the people you’d expected to see at your door - a stranger, a delivery driver, one of your neighbors - Viktor is not one of them. After everything that had transpired between the two of you, you were certain that he wouldn’t have wanted to seek you out.

-After staring at him for a moment though, completely perplexed, your gaze darts downwards, to where he’d fidgeting with his hands. Or rather…to where he’s fidgeting with…a potted plant?

-It’s just a small pot, with an even smaller leafy thing in it - scraggly and viney and drooping all over the edges. The poor thing almost looks pathetic, with how wispy it is, but what’s most notable about it are its flowers.

-Bitty bundles of miniscule blooms, so pale that they almost glow in the gloom of the evening.

- “You don’t like it when people behead flowers just to give them as gifts,” Viktor says, finally breaking the silence. “You think it’s mean. But I…wanted to get you something, and you mentioned a while ago that you’d never seen the little plants that sometimes pop up between cracks in the undercity.”

-You frown slightly, trying to think back to when you’d even had that conversation. It would have been years ago, by now. Had he really somehow retained that information?

- “You said that they were hard to find,” you nod along, only somewhat remembering. “And prettier in person. Viktor, what are you doing here?”

-He glances a couple times between you and the flowers, searching desperately for words. He opens his mouth a couple of times, taking a breath to start speaking, but…nothing comes out, save for a soft croak.

-Pink rises to his cheeks, darkening to a substantial flush the longer the two of you stand there. You have half the mind to be annoyed with his sudden appearance, especially after the kind of emotional hell he’d put you through: was this him trying to apologize? Trying to make things right after carving your heart out and grinding it into-

- “I had a whole speech planned,” he finally mutters, his somewhat-hopeful expression falling. “Some grand gesture, explaining everything from my perspective. Explaining how inebriated I was over the weekend, explaining that my mind was not where it should have been.”

-Oh.

-So he’s apologizing for sleeping with you.

-...why does that hurt so much?

- “This morning, though,” he continues, “You…you said that you…told me how you felt. That you, despite all odds, have secretly been harboring romantic feelings for me for years, and I’ve been stupid and oblivious.”

-He rubs little circles into the crisp clay of the pot in his grip, his lips pressed into a thin line.

- “I don’t remember,” he admits, then.

-You’re fully taken aback.

- “I don’t remember you telling me how you felt. I don’t remember much of our conversation at all. I just…remember laughing with you. Having a good time. Feeling lighter than I have in as long as my memory goes. And I…I don’t remember a lot of what happened…later.”

-Judging by the hue of his cheeks, you know exactly what he’s referencing, and you pop out of your little trance long enough to realize that you’re still standing in the doorway of your home, out where anyone could hear what you were saying.

-Everything in you is screaming at you not to trust him, to not fall for some kind of ploy again, but you decide to ignore it: because maybe you’d been wrong from the start. Maybe you’d been given the incorrect information, and you’d made assumptions, and maybe it’s a misunderstanding.

-Unlikely, but…you’ll hate yourself for it later if you don’t at least hear him out.

-So you quietly step aside, allowing Viktor to stride into your apartment enough for you to close the door behind him. Casting you both into a new type of silence as you both idle at the end of the hallway for a couple seconds.

-Before you nod him further in, and lead him to your quaint living room. Your couches are mismatched, and dated, but they’re comfortable and you don’t really care about the fact that they clash. The two of you find your seats across from each other, and Viktor sets the little plant down on your wobbly coffee table.

-He wastes no time in continuing his explanation.

- “If I had remembered what words had been exchanged between us, I wouldn’t have called that night a mistake,” he tells you, with the utmost seriousness. “I woke up beside you with broken, mismatched fragments of everything, and I fear I pieced them together incorrectly.”

- “I assumed that you would be angry with me,” he admits. “We got drunk, we had sex - I figured-”

- “That I would have thought it was a mistake,” you finish, your shoulders drooping with the realization. “You forgot that I told you I loved you, so your mind went to the worst place. God, Viktor.”

-You push yourself off the couch and nearly trip over your own feet as you move your seat to his side. “I wish you’d just told me,” you chastise him, pressing yourself right up against his side. “We’re adults, which means we can have a grown up conversation.”

-He at least has the sense to look ashamed of his actions, even as you run your fingers through his hair and draw him into a hug.

- “I forgive you,” you sigh, squeezing him a little harder when he hesitates wrapping his arms around you, and only once he does so do you continue speaking, “But you need to stop trying to predict my reactions, okay? Even if you’re anxious about what I might say, I need you to trust that I’ll face any issues with compassion. I need you to trust me.”

-His sigh tickles the soft hairs on your neck, but you’re still able to feel the minute shift in his body as he nods.

- “Okay,” he agrees quietly. “I- okay.”

-The two of you stay like that for a little while, wrapped up in each other’s arms, enjoying the closeness and allowing all the negative feelings from the day to slowly dissipate. And they do, eventually - as you allow his warmth to seep into your bones, your anxiety fades, your anger fades, your sadness fades - mostly.

-You’re still saddened slightly, by the fact that his first instinct was to prepare for your anger upon finding out you slept with him. But you suppose you can’t fault him too much: he’s spent most of his life being an unwanted second thought, despite the fact that you have never seen him that way.

-But…that’s a talk for another time.

-For now, you pull back from him slightly, just enough to rest your forehead against his to stare into his pretty honey eyes. You want to warn him about what you’re going to do - after everything that’s happened, you feel like you should. But he beats you to the chase.

-Closing the small gap between you, his lips find yours. Barely a fluttering touch, soft and simple, but enough to coax you forward into something deeper. Something hotter, sending off millions of little flutters within your chest as your breath mixes and you press yourself harder against him. Or perhaps he draws you in closer. 

-You’re not sure.

-You suppose it doesn’t matter.

-You’re fumbling with the buttons of his shirt after a couple of minutes, trying your best to pull away from him enough to see what you’re doing: though he’s having none of it. His lips locate some other patch of exposed skin, latching on with mischievous intent as he begins trying to leave a bruise.

- “I’m trying to get you naked,” you grumble, without any sort of malice. You can feel him grin against your throat for a moment, before he sinks his teeth in hard enough that you have to pause what you’re doing, a soft whine falling past your parted lips.

- “I’m not stopping you,” he replies, breath tickling your skin. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, though you feel nothing but affection. 

-He doesn’t make removing his clothes easy for you, not by any means. He teases you relentlessly throughout the process, making little quips and remarks, just for the sake of driving you up the wall.

- “I don’t remember you being this chatty,” you huff, finally removing his shirt in the most offended manner possible. You’re covered in little bite marks by then, and riled up beyond the point of impatience: you never knew that Viktor of all people was prone to running at the mouth.

- “Perhaps you should find a way to shut me up, then?” he suggests, grinning up at you where you sit on his lap.

-It pushes you over the edge.

-You stand up without a word, shoving yourself off him in a frustrated flurry. He looks startled for a couple of moments, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head: wondering if he’d done something wrong, or if he’d overstepped, or if you’d changed your mind.

-You soften by a fraction when you realize he’s probably just nervous. He’d recently been of the mind that you were angry with him, after all, and you’re willing to bet that he’s got some residual anxiety.

- “Go and get comfy on my bed,” you tell him, nodding towards the open door that leads to your room. “If you want me to shut you up, then I’ll do so by putting your mouth to use. You seemed pretty keen on it last time, too.”

-It takes a second for him to understand what you’re implying, but the moment the pieces click into place, he’s on his feet. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move so quickly in all the time you’ve known him, and you worry for a brief second that he’s going to cause extra trouble for his knee later.

-But he’s eager to draw you out of your thoughts, gaining your attention once he disappears into the depths of your bedroom. “I thought you were going to do something,” he calls, and you can hear the brief shuffle of clothing, followed by the creak of your mattress.

- “Janna, you’re impatient,” you grumble, though you’re unable to hide the crooked grin that tugs at the corners of your mouth.

-You find him comfortably settled in the center of your bed a couple moments later, and he’s been courteous enough to divest himself of his trousers. Left them in the middle of the floor, mind you, but that’s a problem for later, you suppose. 

-He smiles sweetly at you from where he reclines against all the pillows you keep the company of, and lazily gestures towards his face. “You are taking an awfully long time,” he quips.

-You narrow your eyes at him, only breaking contact when you pull your shirt over your head. You’ve half a mind to feel shy about baring yourself to him the way you are, until you remember that you’ve been here before. He might not entirely recall all of the weekend’s events, but you’re quite certain he wouldn’t forget what you look like naked.

-Despite all this, he stares. Watches with rapt attention as you kick the rest of your clothes off and carefully fold them over the back of your door. Lets his lovely honey gaze trail across every curve of your body, almost lecherous and without an ounce of shame.

- “You’re still not sitting on my face,” he tells you, though it’s less of a demand and more of a whine. 

-In any case, you decide to have mercy on him. You slowly clamber onto your bed, and make your way up his body, stopping every couple inches to lay kisses to the pale warmth of his exposed flesh. Stopping for a few moments to tease him.

- “All we’ve been doing is kissing,” you murmur, staring down at where his cock lays against his tummy, already hard and flushed the prettiest shade of red at the tip. “You really want it, don’t you?”

-A sharp sigh passes his lips when you stoop down just slightly, to lick a flat stripe up the side. It’s barely enough to be considered pleasurable, and yet such a simple touch sends little tremors through his body. You watch entranced as a pearlescent bead wells from the tip of his cock, and begins drooling down towards his stomach.

-Well that won’t do, you think, and wrap your hand around him.

-His soft little sighs turn into broken cries, when you bring his length to your mouth. Closing your lips around him, you slowly start bobbing your head - it’s messy and filthy, and you can feel your spit dripping down over your fingers, slicking him up and making it easier to slide your fist around him.

-He’s less chatty now, as you’d put it, but he’s no quieter. Debauched little moans fall past his lips, without a care in the world, as you continue your onslaught. Tightening your hand by a fraction, stroking a little faster, sucking a little harder. You can feel his thighs quake beneath you, strung tight with pleasure.

- “Wait-” he gasps, and you freeze.

-You pull your mouth off him, worried for a moment that you’d done something wrong…until you see the way he looks at you.

-Breathless and hazy, half-lidded honey eyes nearly eclipsed by the black of his pupils. Looking at you like you’ve given him the moon, cheeks flushed and lips parted…

-Oh.

- “Are you really about to come?” you wonder, giving him a few teasing strokes. He whines again in response, and bats aimlessly at your hand until you finally release him.

- “Alright,” you agree, continuing your path up his body, “I guess I’ll be nice this time.” 

-You stop briefly at his face, smiling softly at him before bringing your lips together. It’s a tender kiss, almost innocent with the way you melt into each other, though it doesn’t take long for the mood to settle back in. You pull away from him, with one last bite to his bottom lip, and hoist yourself upwards.

-It’s a little bit awkward, you’ll admit, hovering above Viktor’s face like you are, rather than being on your back. Part of you worries that you might squish him, or somehow suffocate him, even though you know he’d be happy to go in such a way.

-He wraps his arms underneath your thighs, scooting you a little further up. 

-Staring at you.

-Nudging you down towards him.

-You humour him a little bit, lowering yourself down a couple centimeters, so that you’re close enough for him to reach you. But apparently it’s not enough. His grip tightens on you, and he urges you to come closer still, despite the fact that if you do, he’ll have nowhere to move his head.

- “You’re supposed to sit on my face,” he quips, with a quirk of a brow. “You know, like a chair? Sit?”

- “I don’t want to kill you or something!” you whine, embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck. “What if I like - I dunno, break your spine? Or your jaw? Or-”

- He seems to lose some of his patience then, pulling you down with strength you didn’t realize he possessed. You gasp at the sudden shift in position, but you’re barely able to collect your thoughts before his mouth starts moving against you - and oh god you almost forgot how divine his tongue is.

-He eats you out like a man starved, working his tongue against you in differing patterns, so that you never know what to expect. Closing his lips around your clit to suck gently on it. It sends a warm wash of pleasure over you, until he flicks the tip of his tongue against it within his mouth.

-If you’d been hovering over him at that point, your legs would have given out. A cry nearly punching itself out of your lungs. The white hot, unrelenting sensation between your legs.

-You have to grip the headboard so you don’t tip over.

-Slack jawed and holding on for dear life, you cry and moan and tremble as Viktor brings you closer to the edge. Lapping up every drop of fluid as it drools out of you, as if you’re the finest delicacy he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting.

-And oh, when he slides two slender fingers into you.

-You’re gone. Too lost in your desire to come to care much about appearances. You all but grind against his face, feeling his digits working inside you. Spreading you open to prepare you for his thick cock, curling them perfectly against that sweet little spot within you.

-You don’t even have time to warn him about your oncoming orgasm. It crests over you with sudden ferocity, tensing every muscle in your body as it fully encompasses you. All you can feel is Viktor, easing you through it, groaning as he drinks you in and witnesses you at the height of your pleasure.

-Basking in the fact that he’s the one who’s made you feel good.

-It takes a good thirty seconds for you to come back to yourself, breathless and trembling, leaning heavily against the headboard while you try to gather your thoughts.

-Viktor’s hands, slowly stroking up and down your thighs, drawing little patterns into the supple squish of your hips. Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and he grins up at you with the most shit-eating expression you’ve ever seen him wear. Entirely too pleased with himself.

-You can’t help but share the sentiment, mirroring his smile.

-You crawl off him a couple moments later, now intent on bringing the same rapture to him. Only…his confident smirk turns somewhat sheepish, and the moment he turns around, you see why.

- “Viktor,” you’re barely able to withhold your delighted glee. “Did you come from eating me out?”

-You watch as an embarrassed flush travels up his neck, across his cheeks and out to the tips of his ears. He stumbles over his words for a few seconds, trying desperately to explain himself and promise that he’ll be ready to go again in a little while.

-But you don’t care.

-You flop down beside him, and pull him into a deep, tender kiss. Pressing your body flush against his, drawing him impossibly closer by crooking your leg over his hip.

- “You’re perfect,” you sigh, before his lips find yours again.

[anemoarchonhoe]

Commission for @unkownknowledge

Can I please commission Venti saving a transfem reader from their transphobic family?(And maybe falling in love?) With the fic being Venti helping reader find feminine clothes?

I did my very best so I hope you like it! Please read the tags before reading this work.

You have been uncomfortable in your skin for as long as you could remember.

However, you were only a kid back then, so it’s understandable why you couldn’t figure out why you felt so awful.

You were a teenager when you finally realized why.

It was only out of curiosity, but you tried on your mother’s lipstick and dress.

You couldn’t bear to look at yourself in the mirror before, but now that you are dressed femininely…

For the first time, you felt free. You’re so beautiful.

This is who you truly are. You are a woman.

Excited, you share the news with your family. You were disappointed.

Your father attempted to make you “snap out of your delusion” by intensively training you in swordsmanship and archery, hoping his son will “come back”.

You told him you have always been his DAUGHTER. He made you run until you couldn’t move.

Your mother couldn’t even bare to look at you. She hid her makeup and dresses.

It didn’t bother you because you bought your own, but it broke your heart to see her reject you. She acted like you didn’t exist.

Dinners are quiet. Uncomfortable. Unbearable.

You grew afraid for your survival. Your parents may kick you out of their home at any time.

Tearfully, you conveyed your fears to your friend, Venti. You hadn’t known him long, but you made you feel safe.

“Can you fight?”

You nodded. Your father drilled swordsmanship and archery lessons in you since you were 13.

“Great! Now, show me what you can do.”

He brought you to a small hilichurl camp and asked you to exterminate them. You did it, and while he gave you some slight assistance, you mostly managed to do it on your own.

Satisfied, he told you, “You should be able to be an adventurer and earn an honest living, then.”

You cried. He smiled and held you.

That was the day you received your Anemo vision.

He was there when you registered yourself at the Adventurer’s Guild.

The Guild Branch offers rooms for adventurers who don’t have homes. That’s where Bennett stays and he’s happy to have someone near his age that he can talk to.

Venti gave you occasional assistance on your commissions. And if he can’t, he points you to an adventurer party that can. Or you like going with Bennett, if you’re looking up for a challenge.

Soon, you had formed an adventuring party who you can trust to have your back.

Venti observed you live your life freely with a supportive grin. He is so proud of you.

A smile suits your beautiful face rather than the constant gloom he used to see.

You turn to grace him with that smile that made his heart throb with longing. He smiles back softly.

As for you, you are content.

You may have lost your family forever but you had yourself.

You have YOU and it is enough.

"Venti, hurry up! They have this pretty leather armor on sale and I don’t want to miss out!"

"Ugh… alright, alright." He groaned, looking like he had just woken up from an alcohol-induced sleep last night. He agreed with you that he should hurry but he made no attempt to walk faster.

You sighed affectionately at him. "Did you have a fun night?"

He brightened slightly, recalling all of what happened last night at the Angel's Share. Judging by how elated the bard is, you could imagine that he was happy. Although, perhaps at the expense of Charles or Master Diluc. "Indeed, I did. A little too much fun, in fact. I’m nearly out of mora."

"Oh, Venti. And here I was about to ask you to treat me to lunch later."

"Have mercy upon my wallet."

You giggled as you reached Wagner’s shop and slam-opened the door like you owned the place. That earned you a snort from Venti and a grunt of irritation from the blacksmith. The anemo god seemed happy to see you so confident now, unlike the trembling lost girl he had met a few years ago. He now wonders what you would think if you knew who he truly was. For now, he's content to keep it secret. He'll tell you one day, just not right now.

"If it weren't for the fact that you are one of my most loyal customers, I'd have kicked you out immediately," Wagner grunted, giving you a lazy glare. "Now, I'm busy. Tell me what you want then scram."

Unbothered, you immediately place your order for your leather armor as well as asking him to sharpen your silver sword that has gone dull. Wagner takes your sword and get to work. Then you face Venti, who still looks like he's hungover. You give him a sympathetic smile and gave him a soft headpat, hoping to ease his suffering a bit.

"Thank you, dear friend," Venti sighed, leaning against your hand.

"You're welcome, Venti," you replied. You continue your ministrations until Wagner was done with your order. After that, you walked with the bard to a clothing store, intending you get yourself a few dresses and skirts. As a very busy adventurer, there are times when your clothes inevitably get caught in bushes, branches and thorns. Sometimes it either rips, tears, and gets singed from hilichurl and elemental monster attacks. Thankfully, your last commission paid exceptionally well and you're now able to afford new clothing. You took Venti with you in hopes of getting his opinion.

But you also wanted to dress up and impress him. And you hope to fish some compliments from him, too. You pray to Barbatos that Venti would find you beautiful.

A breeze blows past you softly. You turn to look at Venti, who's looking at you with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. You took both of those as good signs.

A ring from a bell echoes in the empty boutique when Venti opens the door to let you in first.

"After you, my lady." Venti bowed.

"Thank you, kind gentleman." you giggled.

Venti took a seat and you began choosing clothing with the help of the sales lady. He looks around, humming to himself as he tries to help out with searching for clothing that will suit you and your taste. His eyes landed on a mint-colored dress. It's not suitable for adventuring, but it'd be suitable for a small event that's coming up soon. It'll be a day full of singing and dancing. He could already imagine you having fun.

"Hey," Venti called for your attention, raising the hand that has the dress. "Will you be willing to try this on? I think you'll look great in it. I'll pay for it, no worries."

"You don't have to, Venti…" you felt breathless. The dress looks beautiful, but you can't help but blush at the realization that he wants you to match with his color scheme. The colors look like his own, just a little lighter.

"I insist. Now, try it on! I want to see you in it."

So you did. You even styled your hair in order to match the dress, and the lady assisting you even suggested some great accessories and shoes to go along with it. When you exited the changing room to face Venti, you were a little flustered over how much effort you put in order to impress him. You dare lift your eyes to try and see his reaction.

The bard just averted his eyes from you. You would've been disappointed if you didn't just witness how the blush on his cheeks spread across his face like a forest wildfire. You were honestly a little thrilled and pleased.

"Sooo…" you slowly spun in place. "How do I look?"

He's mumbling.

"What?" You walked closer.

"I said… you look stunning." He shyly looks up at you from where he's sitting. "Breathtaking. Beautiful. Gorgeous. The fairest lady in the land."

As he began to confidently rain praises on you, it's your turn to feel flustered. You laughed awkwardly, raising your hands to shield yourself from the onslaught of praise.

"Okay, okay, I get it! I guess I'll get it along with the rest of the clothes I picked earlier."

Despite your protest, you couldn't stop Venti from paying for all of the clothes as well as the accessiories you picked. And as he gently took your hand while he carried your bags, you felt like the most cherished woman in all of Mondstadt. Your heart couldn't help but skip a few beats whenever he squeezes your hand. Soon, you reach the Guild Headquarters where you stay.

"Good night, Venti. Thanks for accompanying me."

"Yeah. Good night."

None of you made another move. There's a slight tension in the air. Then Venti takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckle, then bows, walking away into the streets of Mondstadt. He leaves you stunned, but ultimately very happy.

Word count: 1,000

Character count: 5,483

[merakiui]

aaaaaah, this is so late but! wowza, your latest rollo fic. i was perplexed, like, how could your brain came with such banger ideas and symbolisms?? (not restricted only for your rollo fic but for all of your fics, that rook one also tho.. chefs kiss)

:O thank you so much!!!!!!!! Rollo activates the part of my brain that works in overdrive when I need to get something done. I wrote the fic and its symbolisms so quickly after looking through Bible verses on obsession/lust. There is just so much inspiration and opportunity for religious symbolism with Rollo!!!

✧ the bible verse about lust and temptation being evil and thus giving birth to death - it's a juxtaposition to what Rollo's doing in the fic: knocking you up when you're most fertile. So then if (by the bible's standards) lust gives birth to death, it will seem so when Reader inevitably falls pregnant (as she didn't want to get pregnant in the first place), but for Rollo this is the beginning of life and all great things. So from his perspective, his lust is giving birth to happiness and fulfillment, but for Reader it causes her immense grief.

✧ the number three (i.e. Rollo doing things in threes like answering on the third ring or knocking thrice) - symbolic of divine harmony and wholeness.

✧ the crow - a representation of death, destruction, and grief in the bible.

✧ the goat - often a symbol to represent satan/the devil. However, goats (and lambs) are often used in animal sacrifices, whether to appease the divine or darker forces.

✧ the winter weather - oftentimes, we associate death and gloom with winter because plant life shrivels, animals hibernate, and it becomes deathly cold and quiet. Yet the friendship Rollo and Reader have is so very warm and wonderful. It's also a fitting backdrop to mirror/contrast their dispositions: Reader is a warmer, happier force that balances Rollo's colder, darker force.

✧ Reader wearing all black (lipstick, dress) vs. Rollo's white (hair, pale skin) - the classic contrast of black (darkness) with white (purity), only the roles are swapped. Rollo thinks you're filthy because you drink and party and allow yourself to be led by your own temptations, while you think he's "pure" because he's been nothing but sweet and friendly to you. This reverses by the end of the story.

✧ wolf in sheep's clothing reference - this is just canon Rollo. He acts kind and cordial, but there's always more hiding beneath the veneer he curates.

✧ cat and mouse in partnership reference - the moral of this fairy tale is that cats and mice are natural enemies who will not change even if put in a dire situation. Though he will forever and always be sweet to you, it won't change the fact that he does (and will continue to do) terrible things.

✧ the orange that's part of Reader's breakfast at the end - sometimes a symbol of fertility and prosperity.

Aaaaaa forgive me for rambling about symbolism!!! orz I'm very happy you can enjoy the symbolism in my Rollo story and other stories as well!!!!! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) the Rook story is one of my favorites I've ever written because it's just so dark and Rook is so horrifying in that kind of plot. I'd like to write darker stories with Rollo as well!! There are plenty of ideas and concepts stored within my drafts..... >:)

[in-death-we-fall]

Knot On Your Life

Record Collector #266 — October 2001

Slipknot’s recent Iowa album entered the UK album charts at No. 1 — unprecedented for a nu-metal band. Drummer Joey Jordison waxes highly lyrical

(google drive link)

Slipknot’s second proper album, Iowa, was the most eagerly-awaited rock record of 2001, and both critics and fans of the masked nine-man band from Des Moines weren’t surprised when it crashed straight into the charts at the top spot in early September. But to anyone not familiar with the crushing music of this most uncompromising of groups, the sudden glut of media appearances that followed this triumph might seem strange, to say the least. After all, these are people who urinate on stage, offer fans the chance to inhale from rectally-inserted tubes and regularly vomit onto their audiences.

Despite the band’s fearsome reputation, drummer Joey Jordison was on relaxed form as he chatted to RC from his Mid-Western home. In fact, he was willing to provide an opinion on most subjects — so RC fed him a topic, and off he went. If only all interviews were this easy, eh?

A Night In With The Knot

All round to Joey’s…

Imagine you’ve invited us to a party round at your house. What tunes would you play for us? If I’m having a party I don’t really play much metal — because the chicks get more naked if you play something light. Old Bee Gees, or Michael Jackson’s Off The Wall, they’re all good party albums

I read once that you’re into the Cars and Fleetwood Mac. Oh, yeah. The Cars — I really like their Candy-O record, man, it was one of those records that really broke New Wave in America. They were one of the first bands to use the fuckin’ New Wave keyboards in their music, man.

The one-finger thing? Yeah, yeah, yeah, totally! Like ‘Let’s Go’ with that cheesy line that they use, but it’s so infectious. We played it before a show one time — we cranked that entire song through the PA right before we hit the stage. The kids were so fuckin’ loud and pissed off! They thought we were gonna cut the cong but we played the whole damn thing (laughing), just to irritate them.

What about a bit of dance or hip-hop? I like the new Ludicrous record. And chicks often get naked when we play that new Nelly CD for some reason (laughs). I also like the Wu-Tang Clan and Ol’ Dirth Bastard’s solo stuff, and of course old Public Enemy, and the old NWA stuff. I’m much more into the old school — I don’t listen to any of that current shit.

Did you ever get into any grunge at all? For a little bit, although I was pretty strictly devoted to metal. I really can’t stand Pearl Jam though — I’ve never been a fan of them. Alice In Chains was always a metal band in hiding, with a grunge umbrella. Soundgarden’s Badmotorfinger was phenomenal, too.

What about Faith No More? A band I still devote a lot of respect to. Faith No More really turned things around for me — The Real Thing really shaped my awareness of musical styles and using them tastefully. Mike Patton is probably the most talented musician and visionary I’ve ever heard in my life.

Most people might also be surprised to hear that I’m really into glam shit too, in my other band, the Rejects (chuckles).

What — Bolan and Bowie? More like the New York Dolls and Hanoi Rocks, but it’s all good music.

Do you dress up in the appropriate manner on stage? Make-up, lipstick? Yeah, we do. It depends on the mood. But like the famous song said, though, just because I wear make-up doesn’t mean that I can’t kick your ass!

The morning after the party, what mellow tunes would you play for us? Let me check my current crop of albums. I’d probably actually wake you up with some Amen. ‘We came here to fuck you!’ That rules, dude. I love that band.

An unlikely pairing: (above) the Cars, whose ‘cheesy’ synth lines do it for Joey, and (below) the Bee Gees, for whom ‘the chicks get naked’, dude.

Gloom And Doom

The murky depths of extreme metal explored…

The introduction of Iowa’s first song, ‘People = Shit’, is pure Morbid Angel. Fuck yeah! If you’re gonna pay tribute to something, pay it to a band that kicks ass. My favourite Morbid work is Blessed Are The Sick — I think it’s untouchable.

Altars Of Madness was really cool, too. Fuck, that’s old school, man, that’s going back. I think they really came into their own around the time of Domination, when they started using the seven-string guitars.

What other metal bands are you into? I also really like Raging Speedhorn, and I gotta say Immortal’s Damned In Black is one of the finest black metal releases ever.

I thought In The Heart Of Winter was better. Yes, that fucker too — all Immortal is great. They’re one of the prime black metal bands of all time.

Have you got Slayer’s new album, God Hates Us All? Yes — it’s phenomenal.

‘Payback’ is a great song. (sings line from song) Payback, you bitch motherfucker! (sniggers)

Do you like Nile? I love Nile. Black Seeds Of Vengeance — I love fuckin’ Nile! They rule, man.

Poppin’ Out

Joey talks Britney

It’s a good time to be into metal, isn’t it? Look at it this way. Metal always stays here, it’ll never go away, because of the legions of devoted fans, man, they never go anywhere. They are always fucking gonna be there. The music will never go away. It’s been tested time and time again.

On the other hand, cheesy pop like Britney Spears and N’Sync has got a lot stronger at the same time, don’t you think? That’s very true, it’s a good point. Those bands are really big sellers for their labels. They’re all geared towards MTV; then MTV is geared to the kids; the kids bitch at their parents constantly, and then they go out and buy the record.

Sometimes these kids don’t know any better, they don’t know you can go out and get into the underground tape-trading scene, because they’re fed that shit over fuckin’ television. Which is a drug in its fuckin’ self.

We wanna turn these kids on. A lot of them have heard Korn and Limp Bizkit, but they’ve never heard a blastbeat. It’s great that we can turn them on to the underground — like a kid might never have heard of Morbid Angel, and might think that I’m the first guy to ever do a blastbeat and double bass. Which isn’t true.

Is it strange when Slipknot are included in the same nu-metal category as bands like Limp Bizkit and Korn? No. I can’t bitch about it because we are in that nu-metal group. We do have elements of the nu-metal sound, but the fact is, you can tell we come from a place that is more genuine and way more old-school than that.

Grrr!

Reasons to be angry

At the Ozzfest, Corey (Taylor, Slipknot singer) said ‘We’re going to kill everyone in the rock music industry’. Is the relationship between the band and the business really so bad? He’s always talking about that. A lot of the press — obviously not you, because you know what you’re talking about — when we were done with our first record, they said that there was no way we could top it, and were already slagging the second record. And then there’s the fuckin’ leeches that fuckin’ steal money, and the people that misquote you, and people that start fuckin’ bad rumours — and before you know it there’s a whole new list of problems that come with fame.

I’ll gladly take those problems because this is what I’ve wanted since I was five years old, but (getting annoyed) it doesn’t mean that it fucking doesn’t fucking totally fucking goad men, and totally fucking brings me to a fucking boiling point … (tails off in incoherent rage, then takes a deep breath and calms down). So a lot of those things came out, and we had a lot of personal issues when we were on the road. And we;re doing non-stop shows, so every day there’s something going on.

Havin’ It Large

Party on!

Didn’t you go drinking a lot with Casey Chaos when you were on tour together? Yeah, we do these drinking matches. I always lose. I got him one time, though. It took him a while, but he finally got fucked up and fell down the back of this bus — and Casey Chaos never pukes, ever, but he threw up this time.

I sobered up really quickly after I pissed myself in my bunk, and I came back out and I’m like, I’m ready to go again! But he had to go to bed. I may have fallen down first, but I came back for the second round. That’s been the only time.

Can you still get up and play the drums when you’ve got a sickening hangover? Oh, absolutely, dude. I’ve done it a million times. I’m not necessarily proud of it. But when the mask goes on and I fuckin’ slip into the fuckin’ boiler suit, something just happens to me, man. Everything goes away, and it’s all about us and those kids for that hour.

The Past

The bad old days…

Do you ever listen to Slipknot’s demo album, Mate. Feed. Kill. Repeat? I never ever listen to it. I’m very proud of where we come from, man, and I’ll never forget where we come from, but … that was a totally different band back then, you know, and it’s not the same.

Did you know that people are paying over £150 in this country for original copies of MFKR, if they can find them? (shocked) Christ almighty. God damn, man … they must really like the band.

It’s a lot of money to pay for someone’s demo. Or do you regard the album as more than just a demo? It’s kind of a glorified demo. It’s glorified in that it sounds really good for a demo — it’s produced really well. But there’s only six people on that record, Corey’s not the lead singer, the guitar players are different — you know, the only original members are me, Shawn and Paul on that.

The first Knot guitarist, Donnie Steele, famously left the band after a religious conversion. Yes. He was like, I found God and this band is not for me.

Even though he’d been in Anal Blast and Body Pit beforehand — two extreme grindcore bands? I guess not. He really wasn’t down with the mask thing either — when it came up he was like, I can’t do that. So I thought, hmm, OK, you’re probably not gonna work out.

Then there was Cuddles … (yawns) Yes … … but maybe I won’t go into that? Don’t. We never talk about that guy (drummer Cuddles, a member of the band from 1997-8, is alleged to be suing Slipknot at the time of writing).

The Future

What lies ahead

You once said that Slipknot is just too intense a band to survive more than a couple of albums. I get asked about that in every interview I do. But it’s cool, because it’s the truth. I think if the band broke up right now — you can call this ego, call it what you want — we might even have some kind of legendary status.

You mean, if you stopped at the peak of your form, before it got stale? Yes, like the Sex Pistols did. They did it right, man, they didn’t fuckin’ let themselves become parodies. And that’s what we plan to do with this band, once I know it’s not working. Because of all the hurt in the band, and the fact that there’s nine of us, I think if it went on too long, it would become a parody, man.

Will your records keep getting heavier and heavier, as they have so far? Well, lots of bands say their next record is gonna be the heaviest one ever, but they’re full of shit. They just say this so their fans will go out and buy it. But I can’t do that to my fans, man, because they’re the ones that got me here, y’know.

Interview by Peter Smith. Many thanks to Michelle Kerr at Roadrunner.

[alder-saan]

The Path of Poisons

Aconit

Larissa Weems x gn! Oc

The Path of Poisons masterlist . [01] . [02] . [03] . [04] . [05] . [06] . [07] . [08] . [09]

Avareïda Hydrurga visual

Warnings : spoil season 1 end

Words count : ~900

This is the prologue (I use as a pilot) of a multi-chapter fic. I chose this to be written in third person (for a change). The title is "aconit" bcz of the homophony with incipit (and the fact it's a poison), no other reasons.

Enjoy <3

Avareïda walked through the Nevermore gate and headed for the huge building, taking care not to click their heels on the pavement. It was already dark, and they wanted to be discreet. Their dark clothes blended in with the gloom, and then, on the night of the blood moon, all the students were either in couples or with friends to tell each other scary stories.

They knew it, they had been a student.

They pushed open the heavy door and entered the hall. For the moment, no one had discovered them. They had to be quick.

A shadow passed by them. They were startled and turned around.

It was only a mirror. It had scared them of their own reflection.

The person took the opportunity to check that all the black hair was slicked back, except for a few strands that stuck to their forehead and cheeks, as if they had just emerger from water. They met their own gaze. All black, as if they had been poisoned with belladonna. And then they put their lipstick back on. Black, too.

Avareïda was the kind of person who liked to look like a poisonous snake. Moreover, they prominent canines, inherited from their mother even though they were not a vampire, reinforced the dangerous air they had.

And then they slipped into a corridor, silent, to continue their progress towards their goal. A few steps further on, they heard noises. Avareïda entered a room, waited for the students to pass by, and then left as if nothing had happened. They were getting closer to their goal.

Well…

They came to a dead end.

Had it been that long? They still thought they knew the layout of the place by heart, but apparently they were wrong.

They had to turn back.

"You're so stupid… you have to turn right before the raven statue. Not after, Rei. Not After."

It was coming back to them. They'd spent spent so much time in these corridors that finally, their instincts were guiding them more than their thoughts.

Soon the greenhouse appeared before them. But there were people inside. They could hear the sounds of a struggle. The intruder hid behind a statue, waiting for the occupants to come out…

A boy passed by, without seeing them, and went into the greenhouse. He came out, accompanied by a red-haired woman, dragging a girl with black braids on the floor. It was strange. But after all, it was none of their business. And then there were two of them, and Avareïda was alone. They didn't know what they were capable of, and to go and see them would have been to run into danger for perhaps nothing… So, no help for the brunette.

They entered the greenhouse.

Closing their eyes, the dark-haired person breathed in the smell of earth and humidity. They loved greenhouses. But they could not linger there. They had to be quick.

They took a few steps forward before they came upon the body of a woman lying in the middle of the passage. They knew her. They had seen her before. She was… Larissa. Larissa Weems. The stranger bent down, and checked if she was still breathing.

She was still breathing. A thin stream of air passed between her lips. They took her pulse: heart rate too high. And then Avareïda twitched. White foam on her lips, dilated pupils, high heart rate, red neck.

"Atropa belladonna, lethal dose."

From their jacket they reached for a small vial with a label that read physostigma venenosum in flowing brown script and a syringe which they carefully filled with the vaguely green liquid the tube contained, mumbling something like: "Rissa, Rissa… Why is it my job to save your ass…" Two flicks of the needle, and they stuck it in Mrs. Weems' neck. Then they checked her pulse.

Avareïda got up, looked for a few things and then went to the back of the greenhouse. There, there were some jars under padlocked glass. A four-digit code.

0.

7.

1.

3.

The lock unlocked. They gently lifted the glass, took their gloves out of their chestnut jacket, and put them on. They handled several of the jars there, completely ignoring the warning signs which read "do not touch: poison" in capital red letters, before picking one up, from which a few leaves were sticking out.

"Hippomane mancinella…"

They went out, the plant under their arm. This time they looked for a student. they came across a young boy and removed their necklace. The boy looked confused. He had never seen them before and wondered what he should do. But there was no time to do anything. Avareida had spoken.

"Call 911. Mrs. Weems is in the greenhouse on a belladonna overdose. Tells them that a dose of physostigmine has been given to her, just enough to stabilize her condition. But she needs to be rushed to hospital. Then forget about me, oh, and tell them that you are the one who gave her physostigmine, there is a bottle at the back of the greenhouse, on the higher shelf. If anyone asks how you know this, say you've been reading the Path of Poisons."

The boy took out his phone and dialed 911. Avareida left.

___________________________________________

[yeolsaintlaurent]

Nocturnal Reverie ch.4 [PCY]

pairing - chanyeol x fem reader

genre - mature, smut, angst

themes - power imbalance, romance, crime, justice, class divide, politics, sex

synopsis - In the sprawling, dystopian city of Emberhaven, where power and corruption reign supreme, the lives of two unlikely individuals collide in a tale of passion, intrigue, and moral reckoning. Chanyeol, an enigmatic and wealthy scion of the city's elite, finds himself captivated by the elusive Y/N, a cunning and resourceful thief who navigates the treacherous underworld of Emberhaven. Their first encounter, sparked by a chance meeting in a luxurious club called The Velvet Lounge, sets the stage for a whirlwind romance amidst a backdrop of crime, politics, and danger.

warnings - sex, public sex, fingering, blowjob, humiliation(?), mention of punishment, exhibitionism, name calling, slight degradation

A/N - Hi my lovelies!!!! My first time writing smut and it has been an adventure. This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones, but for good reason ;) I really hope you guys like this chapter. As always, let me know what you guys think <3

Chapter Four: Unveiled Desires

Two days later, on a crisp Friday morning, Y/N awoke to the persistent chime of her alarm. She groggily reached over to silence the device, her eyes catching the name she had given it—"Event at Velvet Lounge with the Cocky Flirt…date(?!?)." A blush crept onto her cheeks as memories of her encounter with Chanyeol resurfaced.

In the privacy of her room, she couldn't deny the undeniable truth—she found him undeniably attractive. His flirtatious banter had left a lingering impression, a magnetic pull that drew her thoughts back to their shared moments. She chuckled softly to herself, recognizing the absurdity of it all.

As she went through her morning routine, her thoughts drifted to the upcoming night. It was an escape, a brief respite from the shadows that clung to her existence. One night of fun couldn't hurt, she reasoned, especially when she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Tomorrow, she was set to meet an anonymous buyer who had expressed an interest in the Fabergé eggs she had liberated from the corrupt politician's mansion. The text message had come from one of her contacts, and the offer was too tempting to resist. Money, after all, held the keys to power in a city where survival was a daily battle.

She fed Kat, her faithful feline companion, and then stepped onto the balcony. Her eyes were drawn to the spot where she had exchanged words with Chanyeol. A soft smile tugged at her lips as she remembered their playful banter. Kat joined her, purring contentedly as he nuzzled against her.

With a sigh, Y/N admitted to her feline confidant, "I don't know what I'm getting myself into, Kat, but I hope tonight with Chanyeol will be worth it."

Resolute in her decision, she selected her attire for the night—a long, black dress with a daring thigh-high slit. The dress cinched at her waist, accentuating her figure, while a satin corset emphasized her curves. She applied smokey eye makeup, a hint of mystique in her gaze, and tied her hair in an elegant updo secured by an enamel claw clip. Her lipstick, a sultry shade of dark brownish red, completed the look.

The hours passed slowly, anticipation coiling within her like a tightly wound spring. As evening descended upon the city, Y/N readied herself for the night ahead, a night that promised to unveil desires long suppressed.

The rain fell steadily, casting a shimmering sheen on the city's pavements as Chanyeol approached the Velvet Lounge. The club stood like a monolithic titan amidst the urban gloom, a beacon for those seeking refuge from the relentless grind of their lives. As he neared the entrance, the line of eager clubgoers stretched out into the rain, waiting for their turn to be granted passage into this oasis of pleasure and escape.

But Chanyeol was no ordinary patron. A nod to the bouncers was all it took for him to be ushered past the queue, through the velvet ropes, and into the dimly lit interior. The atmosphere inside was electric, the air infused with the promise of excitement and revelry. Neon lights danced across the faces of patrons as they lost themselves in the hypnotic rhythm of the music.

His first stop was, as always, the bar. There, behind the polished mahogany counter, was Suho, the master of libations and the unofficial head of the Velvet Lounge. Bartending was more than a job for him; it was a front row seat to the secrets, confessions, and vulnerabilities of the city's elite.

Chanyeol greeted Suho with a nod, a silent acknowledgment of their unspoken camaraderie. Suho, his sharp eyes missing nothing, mixed Chanyeol's preferred cocktail—a blend of whiskey and bitters, a concoction that carried the weight of anticipation and desire.

As Suho slid the glass towards him, he couldn't help but offer a sly smile. "Special night, Chanyeol?"

Chanyeol, his eyes scanning the room, responded with a nonchalant shrug. "A night like any other, dude."

An hour passed, and Chanyeol's gaze remained fixed on the entrance. Impatience gnawed at him, and he couldn't shake the anticipation that had gripped him since their last encounter. Suho, sensing his restlessness, leaned in slightly, his voice carrying a hint of teasing curiosity. "Maybe this one isn't taken by your charms."

Chanyeol's confidence didn't waver. "She'll come."

Just as he finished his sentence, Suho's eyes widened, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. He uttered something cheeky under his breath, a cryptic comment that hinted at the surprise that awaited Chanyeol. As Chanyeol turned to follow Suho's gaze, he saw her.

There, across the room, stood Y/N, her presence commanding attention even amidst the throng of revelers. Their eyes locked, a magnetic pull that transcended the distance between them. The rain-soaked city had conspired to bring them together once more, and Chanyeol's heart quickened with anticipation.

As Y/N settled into the plush seat beside him, Chanyeol couldn't resist the urge to rise and greet her like a true gentleman. He captured her hand delicately, his lips brushing against her knuckles in a tender kiss. His voice was laden with a playful but genteel tone. "Y/N, you look positively radiant tonight."

Her response was a captivating smile, a subtle acknowledgment of the compliment. She settled into the seat with an air of confidence, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Suho, ever the perceptive bartender, had already begun crafting her preferred drink—a tantalizing blend of sweet and sour that perfectly suited her taste.

Chanyeol's breath ghosted over Y/N's ear as he whispered, his voice a velvet caress, "You're making it hard to focus on anything else tonight."

Y/N's response was equally soft, her tone dripping with seductive confidence, "That's the plan. Can you handle it, Chanyeol?" The atmosphere seemed to shimmer around them, the club's dim lighting casting an alluring glow over their figures.

Chanyeol's eyes, dark pools of intensity, remained fixed on Y/N, their depths betraying the simmering passion beneath the surface. Meanwhile, Y/N's gaze held a playful challenge, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes. As the music pulsed through the air, their closeness seemed to create a magnetic force, drawing them inexorably nearer. Chanyeol's hand brushed against Y/N's, the electric contact sending a shiver down their spines. It was a dance of seduction, every word and movement a carefully choreographed step in their tantalizing game.

Chanyeol, raising an eyebrow, asked with a hint of playfulness, "What's your poison tonight, darling?" Y/N playfully retorted, "I thought I'd stick to you for my intoxication." Their exchange was charged with playful tension, each word and gesture drawing them closer together. Chanyeol couldn't resist the temptation to throw in a bit of cheekiness. "I'm warning you, I can be quite irresistible when I want to be," he quipped. Y/N's eyes danced with mock innocence as she replied, "Oh, Chanyeol, you underestimate my resistance."

Chanyeol observed the dangerous look in Y/N's eyes, and he couldn't help but be intrigued. His voice dipped, "You've got a dangerous look in your eyes. What's on your mind, Y/N?" With a wicked smile, Y/N replied, "A night of mischief, perhaps?" Their intimate conversation felt like a thrilling game of cat and mouse. "You know, your eyes are giving away your secrets," Chanyeol murmured. Y/N, her gaze holding a seductive glint, responded with allure, "Oh, are they? Maybe they're just inviting you to uncover them." Chanyeol smirks at that and pulls away, but only for a bit, and only to signal Suho for another round of drinks.

It was as if the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them in their shared universe of unspoken attraction. The air crackled with tension, the promise of what could be hanging between them like a forbidden fruit, ripe for the taking. Chanyeol confessed with a teasing smile, "I have to admit, I'm enjoying our little game of cat and mouse." Y/N playfully admitted, “I do have a soft spot for charming predators."

Their closeness created a magnetic force, drawing them inexorably nearer. Chanyeol's hand brushed against Y/N's thigh as he reaches lower to pull her bar stool closer to his, the electric contact sending a shiver down their spines. It was a dance of seduction, every word and movement a carefully choreographed step in their tantalizing game. Y/N let out a gasp, a bit louder than she’d like, but Chanyeol caught it. 

Their exchanges grew bolder, each line laden with innuendo and an undercurrent of longing. The words flowed seamlessly between them, a symphony of desire that echoed through the intimate space they occupied. Every stolen glance, every whispered confession, added another layer to the intricate tapestry of their burgeoning connection.

She toyed with her drink, tracing the rim of the glass with a delicate finger as her eyes locked onto his.

Fourty minutes and several drinks later, Y/N placed her glass on the table with a sultry grace. Without a word, she rose from her seat and joined the throng of dancers on the floor. Her movements were a seductive rhythm, her body moving in ways that left Chanyeol mesmerized.

He watched with hooded eyes as she danced, her every sway drawing him deeper into her spell. With each sensual motion, he found himself succumbing to an irresistible attraction. His twelfth drink disappeared in a single swig, and before he knew it, he was making his way towards her, unable to resist the magnetic pull she had over him.

The club pulsated with life, a chaotic symphony of thumping bass, flashing lights, and bodies swaying to the rhythm. A sea of people moved around them, caught up in their own world of hedonistic revelry. The music was a hypnotic mix of electronic beats and soulful melodies, a sonic tapestry that seemed to vibrate with its own energy.

But amid the chaotic dance floor and the swirling lights, Chanyeol and Y/N existed in their own universe. There was an electricity in the air, an invisible thread that bound them together, drawing them closer with each passing moment. The temperature seemed to rise around them, as if the club itself acknowledged their magnetic connection.

The multicolored lights strobed and flashed, casting fleeting shadows that danced across their faces. Chanyeol couldn't tear his gaze away from Y/N's lithe form as she moved to the music. Her every twist and turn was a seductive invitation, and he was captivated, unable to resist her pull.

Y/N, though initially resistant to the idea of letting loose, found herself succumbing to the intoxicating atmosphere. She let the music guide her body, losing herself in the sensuous sway of the crowd. Chanyeol's presence was undeniable, a magnetic force that drew her closer with every passing beat.

As they danced, their bodies moved in harmony, an unspoken understanding passing between them. It was as though the music itself was a bridge, connecting their souls in a way that defied explanation. And in that moment, the rest of the world faded into obscurity, leaving only Chanyeol and Y/N, lost in the intoxicating allure of each other's company.

His arms wrapped around her from behind as they both let go of their inhibitions. His other hand ran up and down from her ass to her thighs, which he felt through the huge slit in her dress. She responded with a low groan and pressed herself even harder into him, if that were possible. She reveled in the soft touch, quite contrasting to the grip he had on her waist. He then leaned and began leaving a trail of open mouth kisses on her neck. Her head instinctively fell back and gave him more skin to kiss. By now, she began to feel his bulge growing. She felt satisfied, a smile drew on her face. “I’d like to kiss you”, she said in a low whisper. “Kiss me then”, he replied. His arms turn her around and she brings her face closer to his.

Before he leant in to kiss her, Chanyeol took a moment to appreciate her beauty, wondering how and even what he did to deserve to cross paths with her. Before he could have finished his thoughts, Y/N held  his face and crashed her lips onto his. Their first kiss was electric, invigorating, and definitely aroused them both even more so than they were before. His hands began to explore her body, feeling her shiver as his finger tips ran down her spine.

As they separate from the kiss to get some air, Chanyeol notices Y/N’s eyes. They were hooded with lust and beckoning him to have his way with her. “You know, I was wondering what a good punishment would be since you escaped all those moons ago.”, he said, mischief dripping from his words. “Yeah, and what would that be?”, she says, almost unable to conceal the excitement she felt. Without another word, he spun her around and pulled her into him so his crotch dug into her ass.

One of his hands lowered till he felt the slit in her dress. Her panties were now damp from her wetness, giving away that she enjoyed his touch. His fingers ghosted around the waistband, and her breath hitched. Fuck hell, do somethig, anything please - she thought to herself. As if reading her thoughts, his palm slipped into her panties and he let out a satisfactory groan. “Shit, you’re wet. With all that big talk before, I wondered if you’d give in so easily”, he says, his voice a deep timber. “Oh god, shut uuuUUP”, she managed to say before his palm pressed her sex, causing her voice to increase an octave.

Although, that seemed to be the end of his ministrations to her labia. She wanted to scream at him, punch him in his face. “Fuck Chanyeol, just fucking touch me already.”, she low-key yelled at him. A couple people dancing around seemed to have heard her and looked at her before going back to their reverie. Chanyeol and Y/N noticed this, and she blushed a deep red from embarrassment. “Ah, I seem to have found the perfect punishment for you, darling.”, he told her. Before she could get another retort in, he pressed his index finger on her clit real hard. She almost buckled from the pain and the pleasure this singular act brought her.

He then proceeded to part her lips, and ran his finger through the middle. “I’m going to make you cum so fucking hard, you’re going to scream bloody murder. Your punishment would be having to carry on with the rest of your night having known half the city watched you cum on my fingers.”, he growls in her ear. Her eyes grow wide at his words, but her mouth opens wider as Chanyeol inserts two of his fingers inside her snatch. Holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit - she keeps thinking to herself. How in the hell had she found herself in this situation. But she couldn’t deny that she was enjoying it. He had now proceeded to hitch her dress high enough that anyone could just turn around and look at her cunt being impaled by his long fingers.

She vows to herself not to let a squeak out of her, so as to not alert anyone around her to look. “You’re cunt is fucking soaking my fingers. You must be enjoying this…slut!”, he said. With that she grew even wetter, and this didn’t miss the notice of Chanyeol. Albeit taken by surprise, he got a thrill out of her enjoying being called a slut. She was completely at his mercy, as her body slumped back onto his chest. He was almost picking her up with each thrust of his manly fingers. Each thrust brought her closer to release, and Chanyeol sensed it from her pussy pulsating around his fingers. She couldn’t care less at this point who could see her cum.

She was like a bitch in heat as she ground herself and bucked on his fingers with his thrusts. “Fuck, you are such a slut, aren’t you?”, a rhetorical question slips past his lips. “Yes yes yes Oh fuck yes”, she exclaimed rhythmic to his movements. “You want to cum? You want to cum in front of all these people?”, he asked her, fingers not once losing rhythm. She couldn’t reply as she was too lost in her pleasure.

Chanyeol then moved his other hand, frees one of her breasts from the confines of her dress and twists her pebbled nipple. Y/N let out a cry of pleasure and replied back to him, “Yes, yes I will, and I’m so close. Fuck I’m so close.” Chanyeol then adds another finger, which slid in quite easily to his proclivity, and curls them so he was hitting her g-spot with each thrust. “Cum bitch, let everyone watch you as you cream my fucking fingers”. And with that Y/N let go of herself. She reached back to grab onto his neck as she moaned loud, oh so loud, as she came on his fingers.

He slowed down his movements and let her ride out her high. When she was nothing but breathy sighs, he removed his fingers and wiped them across her cheeks. She slowly turned around and kissed him ferociously. This kiss, unlike their first one, was all tongue. It was sloppy, as if they wanted to taste each other as deeply as they could. Chanyeol pulled back and licked her from her neck all the way to her cheek, tasting her sweet juices in the process. 

Y/N then looked down and saw a sizable bulge in his jeans. “Your turn now”, she said. Chanyeol couldn’t disagree with her and took her hand and pulled her through the ocean of the crowd. She adjusted her dress as she was pulled towards the exit. The night was still young and the queue outside the club grew longer somehow, with people at the back growing impatient at the wait time. But they knew that what lied inside was worth so much more. 

As Chanyeol waited for the valet to bring around his car, he maintained his hold on Y/N’s waist. As soon as the car came around, he opened the door for her first, like the gentleman he always was, and let her in. He closed the door after her, and almost ran to the driver’s side, unable to control himself. The car purrs to life, and he speeds through the roads to his home. His hand gripping her thigh, and at times, touching her pussy. She couldn’t take it any longer, and reached over to unbuckle his belt.  She quickly undoes his zipper and reaches for his dick. He grunts as his member was straining against his pants for the last half hour.

Y/N lets out a moan at just the sight of his cock. She leans forward and began to lick the massive head, leaving kisses on it. She opened her mouth and slipped her tongue out. She then took the cock  and engulfed it in her warm wet mouth. It filled her and she relaxed her throat. She went lower and lower until she couldn’t anymore. “Fuck, you give head like a perfect little whore”, he groaned and held her head, leaving just a moment for her to realize he was going to keep her down for a bit.

He forcefully pushed her head down so he was fully in her mouth, and left her gagging on his dick. “You like that, slut? Like gagging on my cock?”, he asked before pulling her head up for a second before he pushed her down again. She let him use her mouth like a cum dump. She used her tongue to give him more pleasure, and this was rewarded with a few pats on her head. After five minutes of this, as he was dangerously close to cumming he stops her head, and pulls her up. Her lips released his cock with a pop, and she quizzically looked at him. “Want to come inside you”, he answers her before she even asks him. With that she grins and sits back up as he tucks himself, painfully, within his jeans again. 

Soon, they pulled up to his elegant home, a modern oasis nestled amidst the city's chaos. Parking the car with a hint of haste, they practically bounded out of the vehicle and rushed to his front door, their anticipation for more intensifying with each step. The night was far from over, and they were ready to explore the depths of their connection in the comfort of Chanyeol's luxurious abode. 

They hardly stepped into his foyer, when they held each other and kissed passionately. He leads her to his bed, never once letting her take a breath from their kiss. He lifted her up, and picked her by her waist. He drops her gently on his bed. They hurriedly peel away each other's layers until Y/N was stark naked except for her heels, and he was still in his jeans. Somehow this made her feel vulnerable and made her wetter. He then released his cock, his jeans pulled a little lower. “Tell me you want me to fuck you. Tell me you want to get absolutely wrecked by me!”, he pants in her ear. “Fuck me, ruin me, Chanyeol!!”, she gasps as he rubbed the tip of his cock on her clit. He then slowly slid his entire length into her.

“Shit, didn’t know sluts like you could be this fucking tight.”, he grunts. He then began to thrust into her and she met each thrust with a moan. Her eyes teared up with how full she was feeling and she enjoyed every second of it. “You like that don’t you, slut!”, he asks her as he bit into her shoulder. Y/N enjoyed being talked to that way in bed, realizing that only after this encounter with Chanyeol. She hummed in agreement and this only resulted in him pounding into her with more vigor. His cock was deliciously rubbing against her g-spot and hitting her cervix. 

He gripped her hips and turned her over, pulling her up in the process. He wrapped his hand in her now loose mane, and fucked her that way. The pleasure and pain melted into each other as they were both close to reaching orgasm. “Holy shit, I’m close, Chanyeol.”, she cried out and this only made him increase his pace. “Say you’re my whore. Tell me you enjoy being pounded into like this”, he growls at her. She could only let out cries of pleasure and chanted “yes I’m your whore, yes I’m your fucking whore.”

He was close to cumming, and so he wrapped his free hand around her neck, squeezing it lightly. This action alone made her cum so hard, and her convulsing pussy compelled his orgasm as well. He let out low groans as his cum painted her walls. His movements staggered and they fell on top of each other soon after. They faced each other and kissed each other, this time with something different than lust, although only one of them was ready to accept this fact. 

In the stillness of the night, with the city's chaotic heartbeat as their lullaby, Chanyeol and Y/N lay intertwined, their breathing in perfect harmony. Their fingers traced invisible patterns on each other's skin, and their whispered words of affection hung in the air like secret promises. Wrapped in each other's arms, they succumbed to the gentle pull of slumber, their heartbeats synchronizing in a beautiful serenade of trust and connection. As they drifted into the embrace of dreams, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the profound intimacy that had ignited between them, making their shared moment one of profound magic.

[niuniente]

Death-Head’s Deal Playlist

Death-Head’s Deal Fan Club Discord server’s DHD fans put together a DHD inspired playlist. Yay!

The Gloom in The Corner - Requiem

Fall Out Boy - Centuries

Panic! At the Disco - Emperor’s New Clothes

Deals Death - Fortified

MrSuicideSheep - Confetti - Ghost

Maga - Brutality

Fall Out Boy - Light ‘Em Up

Fall Out Boy - This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race

Poor Mans Poison - Hell’s Comin’ With Me

Five Finger Death Punch - Bad Company

Fever Ray - The Wolf

One True God & Le Castle Vania - Bad Company

Nickelback - Burn It To The Ground

AC/DC - Highway to Hell

Bon Jovi - It’s My Life

Bon Jovi - Living On A Prayer

Charlie Daniels - The Devil Went Down To Georgia

Greenday - Holiday

Metallica - Enter Sandman

TRAPT - Headstrong

Finger Eleven - Paralyzer

Friends in Tokyo - Call Me Devil

Jen Titus - O’ Death

System of Down - Chop Suey

Avenger Sevenfold - Hail To The King

Bullet For My Valentine - Tears Don’t Fall

Falling In Reverse - Popular Monster

Carpenter Brut - Lipstick Masquerade

Scandroid - Pheonix

Listen to the Death-Head’s Deal Playlist here.

[slippinmickeys]

I did a quick un-betaed prompt:

Diana at the Door:

Of all her ex-husbands, Fox Mulder was her favorite. He was young when she met him; eager, malleable. Bright and forthright, he was also dogged and insatiable — if she led him to the right path, he would follow it like a hound down a trail. He was intelligent, kind, and prone to pussy hypnosis. Easily distracted. That he was also a generous lover that could last for days was a bonus she wasn’t about to question.

When the Smoker had recalled her back to the States, she had been confident she would be able to manipulate the situation back on track as she always had, but Fox’s partner had proven to be a surprisingly stubborn obstacle, seeing through Diana’s machinations like an X-ray through soft tissue. Diana had thought the woman had been handled several years before — run through the Project’s standard pump-and-dump operation when she became problematic — lending the Project an influx of fresh DNA while at the same time being eliminated had seemed a tidy solution at the time. When the woman had survived, Diana was surprised but unbothered, knowing the cancer fail-safe would soon resolve the matter. And then the Smoker — supine and (she could only imagine) lovesick — had capitulated to Fox’s weak threats and now needed Diana to come in and clean up his mess. She had no idea what the two men saw in the diminutive little priss, but she was confident that she could at least distract Fox long enough to make him temporarily forget. She had it on good authority that Agent Scully was drawn to authoritative father figures, and Fox Mulder – particularly under the spell of Diana Fowley’s time-tested and humbling cunt – was not the young woman’s type. It would be easy, she thought. It might even be fun.

She ascended the concrete steps of his building on Hegel Place with sharp, gritty clicks, the heels she’d chosen for the evening an inch higher than normal. Mulder was a tit man, but Diana had legs to her neck and men were easily distracted. Case in point the neighbor who held open the door for her, his Adam’s apple bobbing when she purred a throaty thank-you. In the elevator, she shifted her overcoat over the sweater she wore, the cashmere as soft as the lips that awaited her three floors up. She applied one last smear of lipstick and pressed the button for 4.

In her hand was a bottle of syrah she intended to use to move things along. Personally, she preferred the smoky bite of Scotch or the cold fizz of champagne, but those two choices sent a social message, and she needed Mulder to think that she was just dropping by. Syrah said it was a long Wednesday at the office. After a glass, it also said and it could be a great Thursday morning if you wanted.

The elevator doors opened and she emerged into the hallway gloom, the leather toes of her shoes scuffing on the chunky hexagonal tile as she walked. She could practically feel his large, rough hands on her skin already, his right hand callused from keeping up his firearm qualifications, a thing they used to do together. Something about the sharp prick of cordite in the air was like an aphrodisiac, and she would pull him into the women’s locker room with the ear muffs still around his neck and take him into her mouth like she was attending to a popsicle on a hot day. Her blood thrummed as she walked, and she was practically panting by the time she pulled up in front of his door, the thick brass 42 reflecting the red stain of her mouth. She knocked.

She had no real concern that he wouldn’t be home – his social calendar wasn’t exactly filled with obligations, but when he didn’t answer right away, she began to wonder if she should have sent a toady ahead to tail him home from work. Then again, he likely was inside, and had just fallen asleep on his couch. She knocked again, with a little more vigor. A moment later she heard approaching footsteps from the other side of the door and tried to curtail the cat-like grin that she could feel rising up the skin of her cheeks. Calm, open face, Diana, she reminded herself. You have a part to play.

The door swung open a moment later and she once again had to police her own features. She’d expected him to answer the door in the same clothes he’d worn to the office, perhaps minus the tie and in a pair of holey socks, but he was barefoot and bare-chested, wearing a pair of quickly thrown-on athletic shorts that still had one pocket hanging limply down, inside-out. His hair was tousled and his eyes were bright.

“Diana,” he said, with more surprise and less pleasure than she was expecting. “What are you doing here?”

She put on a face of harangued amity and held up the bottle of wine.

“It’s been a shit day,” she said, making sure her voice didn’t yet sound too seductive. “I was in the neighborhood and thought maybe I’d find a compassionate ear?” She was about to ask if she could come in, but on impulse, she smiled at him and ducked under his arm and into the apartment. She found the old adage it’s better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission worked well in these kinds of situations. She put on a mask of good humor, expecting him to at least give her a sympathetic half-grin. “I can’t imagine you had a better one out there in Kersh’s bullpen. If you have clean glasses, I can open this thing with my shoe.”

But he didn’t grin. In fact, he threw a worried look over his shoulder and crossed his arms in front of his chest, his face stern in the dim light of his fish tank.

“Fox?” she said, letting a husky lisp slip into her voice. “Is everything all right?”

Other than his attitude, something was off within the atmosphere of the space – his apartment hadn’t changed much at all since she’d left him, but there was a verging energy in the air and it didn’t smell the same. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly how until the woman rounded the corner from the kitchen holding a yellow box of Triscuits and wearing nothing but one of Mulder’s dress shirts that was so billowing and large on her that the crepey material fell practically to her knees and gaped at the neck so that it showed the soft white curve of one shoulder. And it hit Diana why the apartment didn’t smell the way it had when she’d lived there, or the several times she’d broken in in the years since – it absolutely reeked of the tangy musk of sex.

“Mulder, are these even still good?” the woman said without looking up, still walking forward. She was peering inside the box with a dubious look on her face. “These have been opened and I can’t find an expiration date. Oh!”

The last word was said with surprise, but the look on Dana Scully’s face as she paused in the short hallway leading from Mulder’s kitchen quickly went from shock to shrewd calculation as she swept her gaze over Diana from head to toe, and Diana felt the surge of lust she’d been feeling quickly replaced by the hot burn of humiliation.

“Agent Fowley,” Scully said, crossing her own arms over her chest so that the dress shirt pulled tightly over the bare breasts underneath it. She made no attempt to otherwise cover herself and looked not the least bothered by her own state of undress. “Problems with a case?” Her tone screamed that the woman knew it was anything but.

Diana felt her cheeks redden and she squeezed the neck of the wine bottle she still held tightly.

“Just a social call,” she said, pulling herself up to her full height, and lifting up the wine several inches as though to prove herself. “I thought I might visit with an old friend.” She swallowed thickly.

“Now’s not a good time, is it, Mulder?” Scully said, and finally took her eyes off Diana and flicked them to Diana’s favorite ex.

Mulder swiped his hand under his mouth as if wiping something away and huffed a quiet laugh. “No,” he said, “it’s not.” Mulder turned to Diana and gave her a long look, as if seeing her clearly for the first time. “You should go,” he said quietly, something final in the tone of his voice.

Diana felt the light inside of her dim. She took a halting step back, feeling somehow changed and lessened, powerless.

“I-” she started. “Yes.”

She turned toward the door, her neck hot with embarrassment. The door was still open, light leaking in from the hallway on the polished tops of her fuck-me shoes. She took a deep breath and paused when she heard Scully’s voice.

“Feel free to leave the wine,” the younger agent called out.

Diana turned and looked at Mulder, who had moved to his partner’s side, standing half in front of her protectively. His eyes told her everything she didn’t want to hear. Diana set the syrah on the small table by the doorframe and closed the door behind her.

[willowpenguinwritting]

Party Girls inspired oneshot.

Rebbeca Allen sighed as she typed a message to Tori asking if she wanted to meet her partner. Raine danced past her in her slippers before looking at Becky's gloomful stressed look, so pinched Becky's chin and kissed her cheek. Raine was her pansexual partner and her sunshine. Raine could light up everything wherever they went. Becky's phone buzzed to see an excitable message from Tori. Yes, an excitable message from Victoria Spring, seemed unbelievable. Then there was another buzz with a message that explained Micheal had sent that and they were both free to meet at a restaurant for dinner. Becky typed back frantically smiling through her still-bitten lip when she heard a clatter and rose from the sofa she had been slumped in.

"Raine? What was that noise?" Becky asked as she entered the kitchen pulling her hair to rest on her shoulders. Becky glanced to see Raine in the splits on the floor picking up a bunch of cutlery. "You and your spoon juggling need to be kept under tighter control." Becky giggled. Raine nodded as she threw the spoons into the air before jumping up and catching all the spoons in a bowl. 

"Spoon?" Raine asked Becky presenting the bowl to her girlfriend.

 Becky picked up a spoon and twirled it between her fingers before answering with a short and sharp "Raine No, Put them back in the drawer properly."Raine sighed as she placed the spoons back in the cutlery drawer. 

"So do I get to finally meet Spoldren?" Raine asked Becky who nodded in response. 

"We are meeting them for dinner, now will you allow me to dye your hair again?" Becky asked.

Raine nodded and headed to the bathroom where they had hair dye galore and sat in front of the bath whilst Becky sat at the edge and slowly and carefully dyed her hair. The aim was red highlights, instead, the whole thing went a bit red. "Ummm oops." Becky laughed. 

"What have you done to my hair?" Raine inquired, her dark hair didn't suit been dyed very many colours because of the shade. 

Becky sighed "Lorraine don't be annoyed."

"You used my full name, am I going to be annoyed?" her girlfriend asked fearfully. 

Becky shrugged, "Well I think it looks nice, the red makes your hair look alive."

"I suppose it is ok," Raine responded as she looked at it in the bathroom mirror.  

Becky grinned "You look beautiful bubs," Planting a kiss on her girlfriend's cheek. Raine laughed as she pointed to the cherry-coloured mark that Becky's lipstick had left behind. "Ooops?" Becky tried to suggest she was not expecting anything less than a mark. She pulled out a makeup wipe and wiped her girlfriend's cheek. 

"You need to either stop wearing lipstick or stop kissing me so much." Raine giggled from the tickling wipe.

Becky posted "How about no to both?"

"I need to get dressed." Raine started the obvious as she was still standing wearing a duck onesie and bunny slippers. 

Becky looked at her "Yep, you do. Remember we are going to a restaurant so that means your frog hoodie is off the options list."

"Homophobia at its finest," Raine commented raising her eyebrows.

Becky frowned "I hate you."

"I love you too," Raine called out as she left the bathroom and entered their bedroom. She gazed up at the painting next to their bed. It was two foxes painted in the Bisexual and Pansexual pride flag colours, their friend Frances had painted it for them. She pulled open the wardrobe and went along her assigned side, She pulled out a deep red blazer and trousers and a black sparkly tank top. She placed it to one side as it was for later she needed to look formal so she pulled on her bright pink tracksuit and headed into the dining room.

To say Becky was nervous would be an understatement. There were things from her past with Tori that she did not want to be brought up. In her head she had a mental list of things not to mention, this included Tori's brother Charlie and his mental health. If she mentioned that she was certain that something could instantly feel that something would go wrong.

For most of the rest of the day, Becky was a bit uncertain and anxious. She had been more anxious about other things than this but it was still a bit of an uneasy thing to do after not seeing Tori for so long.

When the hour of seven arrived the pair got into their shared car and began driving towards the restaurant. Becky's worries had not exactly faded in fact they had increased at the discovery of the restaurant being called Black Jack. It was another card game. Named ever so similar to the group who set fire to her school in year twelve. Raine grabbed her hand and stroked it delicately.

"It will be ok Becks." She said with a smile that she hoped would relax their girlfriend slightly.

Becky nodded with a half grin as they got out of the car. "Come on let's head in,"

The pair entered the restaurant to be waved over by Victoria and Micheal. It was an odd awkward pause before anyone actually said anything.

"Well hello, it's good to see you both." Micheal grinned.

Becky bit her lip unsure if this was the truth or not. If it was he was certainly acting odd, to say the least.

"Hello," Rainne said with a wave. Becky exhaled as Tori responded and started a discussion of how work was and all that jazz and adult talk that teenage Tori would have rather died than listen to or join in on.

"So Tori are you still going to have lemonade to drink?" Becky asked her feeling more comfortable now.

Tori laughed "Obviously I am."

When a waiter came to collect all of their orders for drinks Micheal shot Tori a look which he got an elbow to the stomach for. "Please just let me say it." he pestered.

"Fine." Tori groaned.

Micheal's face lit up and he turned to Becky "I can't believe Tori has a gay best friend."

"He told me he has wanted to do that for a year now," Tori informed the table.

Becky laughed "God I was so stupid back then."

"You weren't stupid," Rainne told her.

Micheal laughed "She was."

Tori just let out a loud heavy sigh. They all fell apart laughing after the argument had settled with yes Becky was kind of stupid in their past.

[saphosticated]

You deserve a little treat.

It has been decreed by science. Well economics (if you consider that a science, yes I know some people consider it closer to astrology).

However in the economics world, this theory is called the lipstick index and is backed up by consumer data collected since the Great Depression.

The theory states that in times of economic downturn or recession, people are forced to cut back on discretionary spending, and as a result, instead of purchasing expensive products, they instead buy themselves a cheap little treat (notably lipstick). This has been hypothesised as a way to improve their mood, make them feel pretty or generally attempt to beat off the doom and gloom of capitalism.

Estee Lauder noted this trend and tracked it to just before, and during all of the major and minor recessions in the US since 1929 (Lip product sales have increased by 28% since last quarter at the moment.)

So go buy your little treat. The economy sucks, so you deserve it.

[iceysghost]

COLORS OF ROMANCE: TEARS OF THEMIS × FEMALE READER ❀ 》 100 FOLLOWERS (REQUESTS CLOSED UNTIL FURTHET NOTICE)

"You are all the colors in one, at full brightness." All The Bright Places

CHARACTERS: Artem Wing, Vyn Richter, Marius Von Hagen, Luke Pearce

MECHANICS: Each request must consist of your selected character and color. You may specify details you want included in the final product.

COLORS/SCENARIOS:

WHITE 》 softness, purity, safety

◇ Bright light shines through the windows as you share an embrace under the pearly sheets.

ARTEM WING (completed)

PINK 》 romance, nurturing, femininity

◇ He's left rosy after you give him a short peck on the cheek.

MARIUS VON HAGEN (completed)

RED 》 love, passion, determination

◇ Blood rushes through his veins as your deep kisses smear his face with lipstick.

MARIUS VON HAGEN (completed)

ORANGE 》 stimulation, creativity, autumnal

◇ As the leaves fall from the trees, you bring him outside to witness the coming of autumn.

YELLOW 》 joy, energy, optimism

◇ The hot sun shines on your skin while building sandcastles by the shore.

GOLD 》 luxury, prestige, elegance

◇ He gives you a new set of glittering jewelry.

ARTEM WING (completed)

GREEN 》 freshness, growth, peace

◇ You play a heated game of mini golf with golf balls that don't quite go where you want them to.

TURQUOISE 》 health, tranquility, emotional protection

◇ The sky's the color of your hospital dress, and he's the wind that rushes through the air and makes you feel alright.

ARTEM WING (completed)

VYN RICHTER (pending...)

BLUE 》 trust, knowledge, loyalty

◇ You swim with him in the pool, floating at the surface, diving underneath, and splashing water into his face.

PURPLE 》 mystery, gloom, frustration

◇ He treats your bruised, purple skin, and is willing to bruise his knuckles to punish whoever hurt you.

MARIUS VON HAGEN (pending...)

VYN RICHTER (pending...)

ARTEM WING (pending...)

SILVER 》 modernity, technology, sophistication

◇ His voice echoes from your cellphone, yet it feels as if he's by your side.

MARIUS VON HAGEN (completed)

GRAY 》 neutral, detached, rigid

◇ The rain is heavy, but he's walking alongside you and is drenched under the gloomy sky.

BLACK 》 fearful, secretive, painful

◇ He finds you in your worst state, and nestles your broken body in his arms and wipes your tears.

MARIUS VON HAGEN (completed, accidentally deleted the ask)

LUKE PEARCE (completed)

OTHER REQUESTS:

PINK + ORANGE 》 romance, nurturing, femininity, stimulation, creativity, autumnal

◇ He's left rosy after you give him a short peck on the cheek.

◇ As the leaves fall from the trees, you bring him outside to witness the coming of autumn.

LUKE PEARCE (pending... also, I accidentally deleted the ask, whoops)

All works belong to @iceysghost on Tumblr. Reblogs and shares are allowed. Do not repost on other social media platforms without permission. Do not reproduce or plagiarize any part of my works in any shape or form.

[ragnarot]

you kill what you love, Jack, but it stays dead aside from that immortal alchemist lady. how is it possible to still love her when she will never remain gone for good? if you cannot kill her for good, does that really mean you love her? maybe your love is just fake.

CAREFULLY , WITH GRACE , his cup is placed upon the saucer . soundlessly . he isn't shaking . his breathing , steady . now , he isn't made of knives . his own murderous intent , gently , lovingly strangled , and left to quietly breathe , for only a moment . not upset . not crying . it was all he could do to handle such ... accusations .

he had believed he loved her . and why shouldn't he believe otherwise ? when she was beautiful , kind , curious and strange . unfettered in her own thoughts . willing to try almost anything ------ anything , for her works . it was why she'd caught his eye , to even begin with . a common understanding of passion .

and it was why he'd wanted her . craved her neck twisting beneath his fingers , in that evening fog . her pulse , dreading against his flesh . the crimson scent of blood on his tongue . kissing her . kissing , kissing , his mouth bruising hers ... stealing more from her . crushing her very life . she was the most beautiful, then . pristine lashes fluttering , open , then shut . again . fighting . heels clicking atop cobblestones , struggling . gasping . painted red mouth , wide . his pale skin , smeared in her blood , her lipstick . kissing too much . and wanting it again .

" you look so beautiful right now ! " breathless , but not so much as she , he laughs against her swollen mouth . " so beautiful , madam ... i could ... ah ... i could ------ i could ki ------ ah ... i could ... aaaah ... " a hand loosens . reaches for something else , lower . and it's cold , colder than the night air , and it pierces the shared warmth between them . a dull pain twitches in his phantom's eye . aflame and alight , qistina's body shimmers . she was glowing their entire outing , but now , she is gleaming . a beacon throughout london , if only to him . happy . the woman is ... happy . calm , even . wanting to know his words . wanting to know so much . my qistina . ever so curious . even as he hurts her . her throat , his hand . her smile .

it isn't enough . and he knows that it never will be . " i love you , qistina ...ahhh ... i think ... i think i am in love with you . "

so beautiful . cut . so beautiful . stab . so beautiful . slice . the last thing qistina hears is his aching voice , rasping in the shell of her ear . he paints her as red as her mouth . his joy , painful . it slashes , and it stings . his happiness tastes like metal . one hand squeezes . the other works . weaving its frigid steel in and out of her flesh . she falls , her dress a crumpled , wilted flower . stradling her in death . not in pleasure on a bed , but in a dirtied , filthy alleyway . driving a knife into her chest . her stomach . her neck . anything he could puncture , could slash , could tear into . the delicateness of her flesh met his knife , over & over . her splattered blood , a final , hot , violent kiss . it's kissing . we're kissing .

" i love you so much . " he smiles .

her blood is his second coat , and he refuses to take it off . qistina lay lifeless , mutilated , bruised . alone . jack stands near the alley's open mouth , staring into the night's rolling fog . excited . he's still excited . fingers twitching , shaking . he knew he had to calm down somehow . on the walk home , perhaps . when he gets back to the brothel , he'll pluck his favorite book off of the shelf , read by candlelight until dreams invite him .

not a single step is taken until ... something catches his eye again . a golden , glinting light . from behind him . its physical , destroying the gloom & the shadows within the alley . it's her .

" ... really , jack ? " a woman's voice calls , lovingly , after him . breathless . wanting . hoping . " is it true ? do you really love me ? because i ... i love you , too ! "

the man gathers his hands together , wonderfully warm . " well , little mask , it isn't really that simple , i'm afraid , " a memory he recalled of with fondness . how surprised he was when she rose back from her bloodied grave . looking upon her in disbelief , her wounds ... closing . her bruises , freshly replaced by plump , supple skin . no one he'd killed before had ever ... returned . truly , she was as marvelous as he'd thought . in more ways than he'd realized . the woman flung her arms around him gleefully , pressed his head to her ample bosom , and laughed heartily . then , she kissed him again , again . took him home . washed him up . you're still soaked in my blood , dear . look at you .

he leans back in his chair , pondering . " why would i measure my love in who remains dead & who doesn't ? my killing is my killing ------ my art . my gift . i do not kill to lessen this world of people , you know . and i would love anyone else the same as i loved them prior , should they somehow return , just as qistina had .

is it not some miracle of god that she can resurrect ? that i could dismember her body , and she would still recite sonnets with me within an afternoon's time ? how could i not be enamored with such a person ? and why , oh why , would you deem such affections ... as false ? or lesser , because of that alone ? i kill for the beauty i can create . i kill for joy , for love , little mask .

there is no other reason . "

anonymous asks . ( for @deathleads )