#pasts to fill the misty void.

[starrynightjars]

:(

[treasureyourfire]

~ Your Fairytale Adventure Begins ~ ~ Choose Your Path ~

1 2 3 Reminder: * Trigger warning: All three readings have heaviness in them... 💔❤️‍🩹 I send everyone the supporting energies and wish all the best to reach a happy ending at the end of their struggles. * These are not gender-specific readings, in the stories I'll use They/Them pronouns. * These are collective readings for entertaintment. * I am not a professional reader and readings that I do are a part of my learning process. * The tarot can provide guidance, but you manage your own life according to your free will. Feel free to keep what resonates, and let go of what doesn't.~ * (English is not my mother language, sorry for the mistakes.)

* How is their life like a fairytale: Four of Cups, Knight of Swords, (the lowest card in the deck: Ace of Swords) * What magical qualities do they possess that can help them on their journey: Three of Wands * What obstacles do they need to overcome to achieve they fairytale ending: Reversed Sun, Reversed Chariot, Reversed Nine of Wands * What steps can they take to manifest their happily ever after: Tower, King of Cups

Over the mountain, over the valley, there once lived a human sitting in the shade of a tree. This human silently reflected on and taking stock of their life of that time. They were not satisfied. Disappointment and a sense of lack gnawed at them, and although they longed for something to fill this void, so that they could feel safe in their heart, they no longer believed in the opportunities offered to them with good intentions, promising improvement and happiness. Or maybe, even though they were offered in vain, they didn't see them behind the misty veil of their sorrow.

During their contemplation, suddenly, like some heavenly spark, an enlightening thought lit up in their mind. They were struck by an inspiration that spurred them to immediate action. They made their decision quickly. They decided to hit the road, arming themself for the struggles ahead. They was ready to change their destiny. Determined, unwavering, fearless, they galloped forward on the back of their fast horse, keeping their eyes fixed on their goal.

It was the beginning of a new chapter. Their enthusiasm and conscientious attitude helped them reach this milestone in their life. They planned their journey with foresight and awareness, preparing for possible obstacles. They looked to the future confidently. Full of hope, they embarked on this journey with commitment. The distance called them. They longed for a better world and were open to new experiences. They wanted to develop and grow, so that they could safely stand on their own feet and be a support for others besides themself. They had the opportunity to find companions who in return support them, inspire them, and can be of mutual help to each other during their journeys. The child in their heart searched the source of happiness, but in order to find it, they had to face several obstacles. Temporary setbacks dampened their enthusiasm. Willingly or unwillingly, perhaps they attracted the attention of others too much. Curious looks followed their actions;

"Can they rise to the task they have undertaken?" "Will they be able to do it?" Will they succeed or fail?” "Will their Sun ever shine?"

There were times when their momentum broke. They had to think about the direction to go next. They needed to take responsibility for themself and take back control. Perhaps, in the past, they were guided by noble intentions, but perhaps they did not follow the path their soul desired. They had to be honest with themself. They had to listen to their own inner voice, what they really wanted. They had to find their guiding star, which would bring them light in the darkness, and follow it with determination.

But what made it difficult for them was that they were forced to defend themself while searching for the star, and it was difficult for them to let go of this defensive state. It was like everyone was an enemy. They got into a situation where they thought about giving up because of the overburden. Up until now, they had barricaded themself from real or perceived danger for their own protection, but the constant readiness and persistent struggle to protect what they had gained had exhausted them. It was time for them to rest and gather their strength before committing to the next step. Maybe now it is necessary to accept help, accept the support of others, perhaps consider and change their standpoint.

Finally, the time for change was come.

They need to realise what is still present in their life that no longer serves their good. A drastic transformation must take place, all external obstacles or internal barriers must come down. It is necessary to break with habits or beliefs that hold back and limit their development and the achievement of their desired goals, so that they can create a truer, more authentic life for themself, in which their emotions can be fulfilled. The world has shaken around them, but they can use this dramatic change to their advantage. After the destruction, they may be given the opportunity to lay new foundations. A serious, difficult path may lie ahead, but after dealing with the old order and way of thinking, liberation and a fresh start can come, they can create their own kingdom, and achieve the emotional balance and stability that they wanted from the beginning of their journey. For a fresh start and a happy ending, they will need their diplomatic skills, their empathy, their devoted, service-minded character. If they follow their true path, in the future they will be able to maturely and wisely navigate in the deep, rich world of their emotions and become the warm-hearted leader of their empire.

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* How is their life like a fairytale: Hierophant, Ten of Swords * What magical qualities do they possess that can help them on their journey: Seven of Cups * What obstacles do they need to overcome to achieve they fairytale ending: Wheel of Fortune, The Moon, Page of Swords, Nine of Swords * What steps can they take to manifest their happily ever after: Three of Wands, Reversed Two of Pentacles

Once upon a time, there once lived a human who once felt like a respected member of a community. They respected its traditions, values ​​and system. They felt safe, they had unconditional trust in those who surrounded them. They believed that this trust, this devotion was mutual between them and the group. In this unity, they felt that they had found something important, not only in the outside world, but also in themself.

But their world, in which they believed unshakably until then, suddenly completely collapsed around them. Life or perhaps their trusted companions betrayed them cruelly, inflicting deep wounds on them that forced them to the ground. They couldn't even move because of the pain. Disappointment, failure, despair consumed all their strength. They saw their situation futureless and hopeless. They needed rest, they needed to gather strength. They had to recover and then try to stand up again so that a new dawn could come in their life. They survived the disaster, but one of the most difficult stages of recovery must have been accepting this severe defeat in order to move on with their life... Rethinking they principles, they had to become open to this life-changing mutuation, adapt to their new situation and its challenges. They had to seize the new opportunities and use this change to their advantage in order to grow and develop.

During the journey ahead of them, their developed sense of reality will be great help for them. They have a very good sense that when they come to a crossroads, they make the right decision for their situation. They will need this talent when the wheel of their destiny leads them to the realm of the Moon, where everything is uncertain in the semidarkness, where terrifying creatures try to distract them from their path. They were destined for more than what they had so far, but in order for this significant change to occur, they had to be patient and open to the unknown.

In this unknown, there would be the chance to face their greatest fears, when they had to listen to their intuitions, their own inner guidance, and would also need an objective examination of their situation in order to overcome them and move persistently forward. They cannot allow themself to be deceived and diverted by the illusion conjured up around them, be it a frightening nightmare or a seductive vision that encourages them to chase unreal dreams.

With their truth-seeking sword, they must cut through the fog of visions and nightmares in order to clearly see who they are, where they are and where they are really going. Their struggle can take a toll on them. It can be a stressful time for them, with anxiety and sleepless nights. In exchange for their freedom, they may have to break the silence, make their voice heard, it is even worth asking for help from someone who has solid knowledge to navigate this swampy realm, who will help them clear their mind of toxic thoughts and set them on a path to find their way out of the oppressive darkness to the land of Peace and Understanding.

They were on the verge of a major breakthrough and transformation. The final decision awaited them. Whether they embark on this difficult journey alone or with support, it is crucial to thoroughly prepare for it, for the difficulties that may arise, and consciously plan their every step in advance, building a strategy. It is important to commit to their goal, but above all to themself.

In addition to preparation, it is also important to strive for balance and take care of both their physical, emotional and mental needs. Success will require juggling with different responsibilities and priorities, but remembering to rest and relax when they need it can prevent them from burning out and sapping their energy.

Although the idyllic, happy picture of the future may still seem distant to them, if they make the decision to go for it and persistently move ahead, the desired harmony and happiness can return to their life again.

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* How is their life like a fairytale: Ace of Pentacles, Six of Wands, King of Swords, Nine of Pentacles * What magical qualities do they possess that can help them on their journey: Queen of Swords, Eight of Wands * What obstacles do they need to overcome to achieve they fairytale ending: Five of Cups, Five of Swords * What steps can they take to manifest their happily ever after: Nine of Swords

Far far away, there once lived a pointful, sharp-witted human, who was given the opportunity to create a more fruitful and richer life for themself in the earthly world. This offer was a new beginning to build a durable, secure foundation for their future. They lived up to the invitation, entered the race bravely, and finally won. They proudly accepted their prize and took their rightful place in the empire. They became an intelligent, trustworthy leader who treated their companions fairly and addressed them with honest, clear words. They paid attention to always staying on the ground of reality, consciously handling and creating with their intellectual abilities. Their work has paid off. They created the abundance for themself what they could finally enjoy. They were independent and self-confident.

Their high-flying thoughts, ideas and clairvoyance were always helpful and they used them to advantage in difficult situations. They were understanding with others and helped those who needed advice. In return for their honesty and straightness, they expected the same from their companions. They did not lack fighting spirit, they resolutely defended what was important to them, carried out what they had planned, and stuck to their ideas.

But there are events in life when, unfortunately, no matter how much we want to, we cannot win. Such a painful shock or serious injustice or humiliation befell this person. They felt like they had failed. In the end they secluded to rest after the hard fight, to mourn the loss.

However, when we close ourselves off like this, we don't always see the good in our lives, we don't believe that our fate can change for the better, we can sink into the role of victim. We are filled with sadness and hopelessness. We can get stuck in the belief and emotional world that we are "losers", so we have a hard time realizing that we are still capable of joy and success. Once if they process and are able to let go of what happened, they will get back on their feet to leave behind the heavy grayness and start again towards a happier future.

The beginning of a big change came in their life. In this harrowing period, it is crucial to nourish their body as well as their soul and mental health and take the right quantity and quality of rest. For this, they may have to seek outside help to overcome the obstacles that their own mind has set up.

In addition to rest, engaging in activities that relieve their inner anxiety can help to them to find their way out of the oppressive darkness. It can be any creative, self-expressive activity, where they can put their thoughts into shape, express their feelings, or a form of exercise that suits them and relieves the accumulated inner tension. The goal is recovery and healing, rebuilding the shaken self-confidence.

Walking in nature, gardening, anything that brings peace to their soul can help. It may also happen that they allow a new science into their life, which arouses their interest and brings the zest for life again back to them.

If they learn to move on and let go, if they take care of themself, if they allow their imagination to soar again, if they rekindle the warrior fire in their soul, they can begin to heal and find their way back to the path of happiness.

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Thinking about what each Yellowjackets survivor did with the settlement money from the crash (bc we all know they most likely got lawsuit money) and how it relates to how each character copes with trauma.

Shauna- Uses the money to buy Jeff his furniture store. Shauna is coping through denial. She thinks that if she fills her life with stable things (a working husband, a child, a house, a business) that she will become stable too. She’s trying to live a boring apple pie life in an attempt to deny her desire for the adrenaline and danger that living in the Wilderness gave her. You can see this in her demeanor, too. Shauna acts very sweet, innocent, and harmless, but in a actuality she’s hiding a darker, more unhinged side of herself.

Tai- Uses the money to fund her college education/political pursuits. Tai copes through drive and determination. She works and works and works so that she doesn’t have time to think. Taissa is acting out the life that she wanted before the crash. She keeps striving for success and accomplishment hoping that these things will make her happy, but as she says to Shauna, “none of those things felt real” to her.

Lottie - Uses the money to start her wellness center (cult). Lottie is coping through her spirituality, as she did in the Wilderness. She leans on the idea of forces outside of herself having a plan for her and those around her so that she can relinquish control. This allows Lottie to have faith that things will get better and that everything is happening for a reason even as she is going through intense trauma. Lottie feels at peace when she is using this faith to help others, which is why she starts her wellness center. And even though she at first attempted to focus her spirituality on holistic means rather than the supernatural, the Wilderness eventually creeped back in.

Van - Van uses the money to open up her VHS store. This shows that Van copes through living in the past. She shells out her own little corner where she can surround herself with things that made her happy before the crash and hide from the rest of the world. Similar to Tai, she’s trying to be who she was before the crash. Van surrounds herself with 90s memorabilia and all of the movies and music that she used to love so she doesn’t have to acknowledge that she’s not that person anymore.

Nat - Nat uses the money for drugs, traveling, and material possessions like cars and clothing. Nat is trying to fill a void within herself. She’s focused on what will make her feel okay in the present moment. Getting high or buying a fancy car or designer handbag that she could never afford in her childhood numbs the guilt and trauma for a moment, and when this numbness wears off, she seeks it out again and again because she doesn’t have a long-term solution. She lives as a transient using the money to move from motel to motel trying to escape herself and avoid creating any attachments because she feels that she destroys everyone she comes into contact with. Basically, Nat is focused solely on on what will get her through each day, as she had to do in the Wilderness and even before the crash living in an abusive home.

Travis - Similar to Natalie, Travis uses the money on drugs and isolation. Not much is known about adult Travis unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you feel about him), but we do know that he had a drug problem like Nat and fled to New Hampshire to try to hide away from everything. He isolated himself completely in an attempt to block out the world and reminders of what he did in the Wilderness.

Misty - Uses the money to fund her education and career in the nursing field. Misty is coping by making people need her, as she did with Ben and all of the Yellowjackets in the Wilderness. She craves being depended and relied on because this is the only way she has ever received acceptance from others. She becomes a nurse for the elderly because she knows this demographic will depend on her more than any other. Using her medical knowledge to help those in need made her feel loved in the Wilderness, and she is still chasing that feeling.

Anyways can you tell I think about these characters way too much?

[fluorescent-if]

Character Intro

They are a loyal person, first and foremost. When the group broke up they somewhat lost their purpose, but they ended up settling and working as a bartender in Misty Cove. Having taken boxing and self-defense classes from a young age due to their paranoid parents, R was always the best when it came to physical confrontation with the cases you investigated, even if outside of this they never seemed like someone who had that much power. They have become far more aggressive and assertive than the person you knew as a child, now having the attitude to match their technical know-how.

After the gang broke up, R was aimless in life. Their main goal was always to defend their friends, and now that none of their friends talk to them anymore, it’s been difficult trying to find people to talk to, and truly connect with. So, they moved back to Misty Cove, and started trying to escape the mundanity of their new life by seeking out dangerous situations. Though it hasn’t quite filled that void. Even with how much they have changed, R still holds the rest of the gang near and dear to their heart. If anybody calls for their help, they will come running.

Rose/Rory is gender selectable

Appearance

They have tan skin , brown eyes, and hair that has been dyed navy blue. R overall has a very feminine look no matter what gender they are. They love wearing looser clothing with frills and soft fabrics. They also wear the most makeup of the group, no matter what gender, and like doing dramatic and complex looks that match their outfit (They do tone it down for mystery solving though, don't want to ruin your best clothes because they get caught on a nail.)They always wear statement earrings, and makes sure their outfits are cohesive.

Rose wears her hair just past her shoulders and has curtain bangs, she is 5'10. Rory’s hair is essentially a grown out mullet (even if he refuses to admit that), always perfectly and effortlessly tousled (though you know from experience exactly how much effort he puts into it to make it look effortless), and he is 5'11.

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Seven]

This is a loong one so buckle up!

Viktor x Fem!Reader--Gothic AU/Spooky Sea--4.7K---SFW

> M A S T E R L I S T < ← Previous // Next →

Synopsis:  Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both buildings are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Summary: You arrive at the city, knowing that once you return by the sea, things will have changed. For the better of for worse? That's on you to decide.

Tags: Slow Burn | Strangers to Lovers | Marriage of Convenience/ Fake Marriage | Sprinkled Domestic Fluff, not much tbh | Forced Proximity--but is it, really? |

Taglist: @lunar-monster @bittercyder @local-mr-frog

Chapter Seven: The Sea's Call [Pt. 1]

The air far from the coast was colder and thinner, and yet the whole ride toward the city felt just as asphyxiating and dense inside the tiny carriage that bumped away at every second on the unpaved road.

Viktor pretended to read the whole time, even when you doubted he could make sense of the words with how much the carriage seemed to jump around. But the façade was welcomed because you didn’t wish he could see the way you fidgeted with the hem of the sweater that was too long for you to wear.

Knitted in wavy patterns, teal blue as if you’d wished to take a part of Piltover the Old with you now that the roar of the sea was too far away to be heard, replaced by white noise, the still breath of Viktor echoing in the quiet ambiance.

You had forgotten to scrub your hands well enough, some stains of oil staining the reverse of your palms. Viktor helped you maintain the electrical system of the lighthouse, Surveying the beacon will keep the light up day and night for consecutive three days.

Part of you prickled with curiosity, wanting to know why it was so important to turn on the lighthouse beacon, but besides the very peculiar circumstances of your messy relationship with Viktor, you found yourself shying away when the question wished to pour out your lips.

Ever since the footprints went toward Viktor's bedroom, a thought haunted the back of your mind when the world became quiet, when all you had to do was to watch toward the sea, toward all the ghosts and creatures that seemed to become more solid the more you thought about them.

You didn’t wish to know—and part of you claimed it was a terrible idea to get tied to this man, to the owner of the claimed haunted house by the cliff.

But was it, truly? Could it be… a you problem? Instead of all the legends coming true, it could be your mind invocating them to life to distract you from your unstable situation, suspended midway from jumping off into the endless void.

You decided to nap, at least try to, the bumpy road not helping to lull you. Though inside the dreamlands your inner warning still reached you; in the form of a misty evening with the water rising at the coast, with nowhere to go.  

There, you were one of the specimens in Viktor’s studio in the basement, trapped in a tidepool first, and then forever in formaldehyde. You hoped this marriage wouldn’t corner you to such destiny.

You closed that door, opening the next, this one deeper into your subconscious. Everything floated and swayed in a calm current, lulled by the chants of the waves crashing over a golden shore filled with broken shells; there you could lay on the cool sand and stargaze when the moon turned the water liquid silver.

“Miss?” A voice said, and you were about to open your mouth to invite them to watch the night sky, when a hand touched your shoulder, gently shaking it. “Miss, we’ve arrived.”

Your eyes opened, golden eyes gazing down at you. Viktor’s lips curved in an apologetic smile. You had barely slept ever since your haunting experience inside his house.

You nodded, finding that your hands were trying to comb your hair, so used to the humid air of the sea that down it felt dry and without volume. Viktor exited the carriage once he was sure you were awake, hands reaching inside his pocket to retrieve the key to enter the building in front of you. His figure disappeared into the luminous foyer as the driver helped carry the luggage up the stairs, barely two identical suitcases as Viktor had to lend you one.

Minutes later, Viktor got outside. You caught a glimpse of his hands folding a ticket inside the breast pocket of his jacket. He stood at the door of the carriage, extending his hand toward you.

You took his hand, jumping out of the vehicle. Your steps were wobbly, like a newborn fawn. Cobblestone welcomed your feet, steady and solid contrary to the sand that tried to suck you underneath over the beach dunes. You heard chatter echoing in the busy streets, another lulling rhythm replacing the waves, both just as never-ending.

Looking around, you took in the tall buildings with wide windows open to take the afternoon breeze, curtains dancing ghostly melodies against the wind. The city smelled like oil and smoke, like newly baked bread and strong coffee. It felt alive.

Some puddles of rain reflected on your face as you gazed down at the flicking reflections of you mixed with the landscape. Almost meant to be.

“Come inside,” Viktor told you, taking some money from his pocket at seeing the driver coming down the flight of stairs, tilting his hat to Viktor to inform him the luggage was placed at the entrance of the apartment. “It’s getting colder out here.”

You were torn between letting go of his hand to walk down the street, the coffee shop on the other side cozy, and warmth from all the people talking and laughing inside.

Viktor seemed to follow your gaze because he smiled. "We can go there once we eat a strong meal first. Their fruitcake is delicious. But it won’t make you any good to eat dessert first, would it?”

“Why is that?” you inquired, following him inside the house. Three floors were divided into an apartment each without counting with the restaurant on the ground floor, the main landing flooded with a drooling smell of stews and grilled meat. “Talking from experience?”

Viktor chuckled. “Most certainly.” He looked up at the stairs in front of both of you and sighed, one of his hands grabbing the metal rail and he propelled his weight up.

“You can lean on me if you want,” you said, just by instinct.

“It’s easier with the rail,” Viktor reassured you, looking back at you with the smallest of smiles. “But thank you for the offer, Miss.”

His apartment was nothing like the gloomy house near the sea. This one brimmed with life; pale yellow walls showed countless chalkboards and boards filled with papers and drawings, polished wood floorboards there where fluffy carpets didn’t cover it. A large couch tucked between a bookshelf and a coffee table had a couple of blankets thrown in the backrest, cushions pilled up to where you supposed, he laid back in the afternoons to keep working.

Viktor cleared his throat at your wandering eyes. “My apologies for the… eh, the clutter. I'm not used to having visitors."

Hardly could you be called that, after everything. Though you kept the thought to yourself.

Besides, you had helped him tidy up the house, so you thought he didn’t have a particular reason to feel embarrassed. “Don’t worry. You can’t do many chores when you’re this busy. I imagine.”

He nodded, his bare feet muffled by the wood as he left his shoes in a rack by the door, walking toward what seemed to be the kitchen. You slid the luggage inside, taking your boots off before closing it.  

Viktor returned with a glass of water for you. “The food will be here shortly,” he said, gesturing for you to follow him across the hallway. "Sadly, I don't have a guest room here either. I will be sleeping on the couch; you can take the master bedroom.”

You looked at him, almost horrified. Shame and fear washing at you—you remembered quite well what occurred when you took his bedroom before.

“I sleep there most nights, you don’t have to worry about it.” As if you needed confirmation from the nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, he opened a door, turning up a lamp to reveal the bedroom. Contrary to the piles of books and papers, and the closet ajar with some clothes thrown inside carelessly, the bed was practically untouched besides some wrinkles in the side next to the closet.

“You can change if you want,” Viktor continued. “I will be in the living room if you need something. The bathroom is at the end of the hallway.”

He closed the door once you and your luggage were inside. Carefully, you sat at the edge, feeling the cozy carpet underneath the bed brushing your toes, as soft as sand, the fluffiness of the duvet, and how your body sunk into the mattress. Looking around, you saw the pairs of shoes Viktor had tossed in the bottom level of a vanity with no stool. You left your things there; hairbrush and tiny bottles of shampoo and soap, toothpaste, and toothbrush. You had brought the shell, too.

The next thing you did was rummage in your luggage to take your clothes off it and use the cloth hook behind the door to hang your dress.

Your wedding dress, you thought as you bit your lips.

It wasn’t white, but rather a yellowish ivory with details in gold that time, and abandonment had only got more yellow. It had been your mother’s, watched over by your grandmother until you were old enough to wear it without dragging the skirts. Of course, it wasn't supposed to be the one you wore to whatever wedding your family was planning for you, but rather just another one of the puzzle pieces of memories of the life you couldn’t have.

Shaking your head, you changed into the first clothes you saw; an old green dress that you tied with a belt as the hem had become too loose over the uncountable washes, that’s why the sleeves would sometimes slip away from your shoulders if you moved too much. But the fabric was thick enough from the slightly cold air of the city, and you weren’t meant to explore the suburbs until tomorrow, after the wedding.

Looking at your reflection in the vanity, you nodded at yourself—more for gathering courage rather than in an approbatory way. Then you tiptoed outside the room, hearing Viktor mumbling to himself as he hurriedly tried to clean the living room.

He looked at you with surprise, almost as if he had forgotten you were supposed to be there, before gesturing to the kitchen. "The food arrived. Feel free to serve yourself, I will be there in a second.”

You walked toward him, looking at the myriad of books lying around, from physics to folklore tales and history, to biology and engineering. Part of you felt relieved at seeing that Viktor was so knowledgeable. If there was someone to help you study to enter the University, that was him.

“I can help you clean,” you offered, taking the folklore book, some papers falling at your feet. “Uh. I’m sorry.” You crouched, piling the pages and putting them inside the book. It seemed old, with yellow pages and the spine almost unattached. Scribbled on the front page was a name.

“Don’t worry,” Viktor said, fingers taking the book away from you before you could read the dedicatory. “You can eat first, I’m not very hungry yet. The journey made me feel motion sickness.”

You blinked, embarrassed that he may be driving you away due to your nosiness. “Oh, alright then.” Then he also couldn’t read while in the carriage. That would mean he was trying to ignore you or to pretend doing something else to avoid making you feel nervous. But little mattered, you thought as you walked inside the kitchen, a bowl with beef stew and bittersweet chicken accompanied with white rice laid in porcelain plates flanked by a jar filled with orange juice.

You sat, alone in the still space of the kitchen, with only momentaneous echoes of Viktor’s steps as he moved around on the other side of the wall.

He appeared around an hour later when he heard you turning on the water to clean the dishes. Viktor settled next to you, taking a towel to clean them as he put them away on the cupboard.

"I went downstairs to buy some bread," he announced to you, signaling to the paper bag lying on the table. "I hope you like chocolate."

*~*~*~*

You sat on the missing stool of the vanity, Viktor settling in a chair next to you.

The balcony was a small cube, some lines of rope filled with empty clothespins. It couldn't overlook the city that well, with Viktor's department being only on the second floor rather than the last, but you liked the view anyway.

Catching glimpses of golden windows open despite the sudden drizzle tapping the roof, you saw blinks of life; a table filled with food with a family surrounding it, a woman painting on her living room, and even a cat lazily lying in the backrest of a couch.

You hoped that this scene, with Viktor next to you and a tiny glass table filled with desserts and coffee could look just as inviting. Just as real.

“Do you like it?” Viktor asked, and you knew he didn’t mean the sweet, braided swirl chocolate bread he had bought you.

“I’ve never seen so many things before,” you said, blowing into your cup of coffee. “It feels… alive.”

Viktor chuckled. “Sometimes too alive.” He shrugged. “But I understand. Piltover the Old is… well, old. Both the architecture and the people made you believe as if you'd been trapped in time there that when you get out, it feels as if things move too fast.”

You looked at him. “You don’t like the city,” you pointed out instead of asking.

His golden eyes didn’t meet yours anymore. “It has its charms.”

“Do you miss back home? The sea?” Part of you felt as if it would be hard to sleep without the constant roar of the ocean surrounding you.

Viktor reclined on his seat, barely taking crumbs out of his slice of fruitcake. “If I can be honest with you, I don’t think I’ve ever considered myself at home,” he said softly. “Not here, not there.”

You interlaced your fingers in your lap. “I feel the same way,” you confessed, not wanting him to feel embarrassed. “Of course, this is the first time that I leave Piltover the Old, but…" You shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose one day I will be able to be somewhere and just feel the pull. The realization that I’m finally home.”

Viktor smiled, his eyes sweeping over the city landscape. “I feel the same way, Miss.” Taking his cup of coffee, he extended it toward yours. “I hope we can both find such a call, someday."

The porcelain clinked together when you cheered, the noise like bells staying much longer than it was supposed to.

*~*~*~*

Unknown to you, that night was the best rest you’d have in so long. Encountering you dumbfounded once Viktor knocked on your door the next morning, his thick morning accent poured into your sleepy brain telling you that it was almost 8 AM.

“I’m awake,” you told him, voice groggy.

“Can I come in?” Viktor said, and any remnants of sleep evaporated from your mind. “I didn’t take my suit out yesterday.”

Oh. Of course. Looking at your dress, you nodded. But he couldn’t see your nod with the door closed. “Yes, of course.” The blankets were soft and smelled like soap when you covered yourself with them, peeking at his figure wearing mismatched pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt when he entered.

He looked once at you, nodding thankfully as he made his way toward the closet, eyes glued on everything but you. Between the friction of hooks and clothes, he produced a brown suit jacket with some pants folded underneath, the color so dark for a moment you thought it was black.

From another hanger, he grabbed a cream vest and a white dress shirt. Viktor turned, closing the closet doors before backtracking. “Eh, yes, yes. The tie,” he mumbled, looking at you from the corner of his eye, cheeks slightly red from having witnessed of his self-chatting.

Tossing a red tie atop the clothes hugged against his chest, he turned back to the exit. “I will be going now—” Viktor started, looking at the dress that had been hiding behind the door. “That is such a pretty dress, Miss,” he commented, looking up and down at it before turning the knob open.

“Thank you. It was my mother’s.”

He looked at you, his stance frozen on the threshold. “Have you ever imagined her in your wedding?” Viktor asked tentatively.

“I’ve never imagined I’d get married by my volition, so no. Not really.” What was the point anyway? “Death can’t return her to me anyway.” But part of you hoped that somehow, somewhere, she could be a little bit proud of seeing you here, in the city she inhabited before the sea called her back.

You didn’t even know if you wanted to have her with you. Would she have lied to you like your family did to protect you?

“If she was a student in the University, then there has to be some registers about her in the archive,” Viktor told you. “We can go there later. What do you say?”

Your aunt's words drilled into your skull, making your heart squeeze painfully. An unknown father, a mother given to the sea. A childhood filled with lies.

“No, it’s alright.” You forced a smile. “Maybe on another occasion.”

His golden eyes froze in your face, eyebrows furrowed just slightly, just for a moment. “Very well. I will let you change, then. We’re meant to leave to the notary in an hour.”

The mental clock ticking by his words didn’t help with your nerves, but you thanked him nevertheless. Not even the cold bath could soothe you, taking double the time to slip inside the dress and try to reach the tiny buttons aligned at your back.

Now it dawned on you the curiosity of why your mother had a wedding dress. Seeing you dressed in it, you pictured her twirling in a mirror on a boutique, a dreamy smile on an unknown face as she hoped to walk down the aisle toward your father, perhaps. Another faceless person it didn’t matter to grieve about.

Or so you tried to convince yourself.

What a useless thing to long for something it never was.

You entered the living room, Viktor sitting in front of the coffee table as he ate tiny bites of a slice of toasted bread covered with yogurt, the smell of newly made coffee flooding from the open door of the kitchen, a half-empty bowl of sliced fruit next to yours that was still completely covered in a mountain of sliced strawberry, peach, and pear.

He must’ve woken up around two hours ago if he had prepared all this and finished dressing already. The only thing missing was his jacket and his shoes which were aligned at the doormat entrance, files of the needed papers ready to go over the bookshelf.

You sat next to him, his fingers grazing yours when he passed you the breakfast. From the purplish eyebags adorning his golden eyes, you thought it was a mercy he had so many things to prepare in the morning, allowing him to get up instead of rolling away, trying with no luck to catch slumber.

You ate in silence, feeling your throat strained with nervousness. Quickly, you both shared the bathroom to brush your teeth, Viktor leaving you alone as you finished preparing.

Finally, around 9:26 AM, Viktor gazed at you when you walked toward the entrance door of the apartment, finding it weird to see his hair brushed back, with barely some locks poking rebelliously against his brow.

“The dress suits you,” he commented on your way down the stairs. “If you’d allow me to say that.”

Your steps faltered. “Oh, that’s right!” you exclaimed, waiting for him to descend all the stairs. “Can you help me button it up? I just missed the middle buttons.”

Viktor chuckled, gesturing you to turn around in the empty corner of the landing. It was too late for the rest of the residents to linger in their houses on a weekday. He gave you his cane to hold, his hands brushing your back slightly as he pinched the buttons inside the grommets.

You took in his presence, feeling his warmth bathing you, the essence of his shampoo smelling like a fresh breeze sweeping by the coast.

“There you go,” Viktor muttered, his breath moving the hair around your ear. You shivered, walking away from him. “Are you cold?” he asked, blinking with confusion knitting his eyebrows. “I can give you my jacket—”

“No, no.” You raised the unmatching muddy green coat and hugged it against your chest as if he could feel how your heart was picking up speed if you didn't. “I have this.”

Yanking the door open, you hoped the cold morning could calm down the frenetic rhythm reverberating in your ears, but it was all in vain when you ended up sitting next to him in what Viktor told you, was called a trolley car. The movement of the vehicle stopping and starting again at each public stop made your body press against him as the strange train moved its way up the city.

“The University is here,” Viktor chatted, trying to soothe your nerves as he fiddled with the handle of his cane. He pointed to the glass, where you could see a big, gothic-like building hiding the sun behind its high towers. People were walking inside, its courtyard made of neatly cut grass and tiny trees. All of them held books as they walked, both alone and in animated groups toward the cobblestone path that connected a pair of double doors with the outside. "This is the main building, but the rest of the faculties are behind it. You can't see it all from here."

“It’s gigantic,” you said, trying to take in all the details as the car moved away.

“Indeed it is. You have to be careful not to lose in the hallways,” he chuckled. “Or you’ll be late to class.”

"Where does the entrance exam take place?"

Viktor signaled out the window again. “In the main building.” His hand hovered over yours, interlaced on your lap. This time, he poked one with his finger. “You’ll see it for yourself soon enough.”

Embarrassed, you giggled. “I hope so.”

“Have more faith in yourself,” Viktor added, leaning slightly against you so your shoulder brushed his. “I believe you can do it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Viktor…” you said in a hushed tone to not wake up the working man next to you, his uniform covered in coal and oil from his shift in a factory. “Thank you. For trusting me.”

Your gazes connected, and it felt as if he could rival the morning sun, the gold in his eyes twinkling like pools of honey poured in a teacup; reassuring and warmth.

"Couldn't be any other way."

*~*~*~*

The notary had a tiny chapel, barely decorated with candles whose wax had made them amorph, some of them cocooned in hollow wax ponds. The red carpet where you walked down the aisle alongside Viktor was worn out and thin, but neither of your steps faltered, the official papers tucked in a file under his arm.

You don’t have to do this, you repeated Viktor’s words, as you’d been doing ever since you entered this seemingly deserted building on a Wednesday morning, hand in his. But you wanted to, thrill pooling in a chaos inside your belly that almost felt like fluttering. Of all the scenes you could picture a marriage in, this was the most interesting. Almost funny how surreal it was.

You would've been so lucky if this was sincere, a childish part of you longed.

But it wasn’t, and foolish was it to lament for things that never were.

The officiant smiled at you two, Viktor taking your hands into his as he asked him if he could give you two his blessing—as no other one could.

You took in a deep breath, pride filling your stomach now that you could do something your mother yearned for. Fulfilling another’s dream, but your way.

His golden eyes sparkled with the dancing flames of the candles, his fingers interlaced with yours as he looked down at you, the officiant’s voice echoing in the empty seats and closed doors.

“Will you have Y/N to be your wife? To love her, comfort, and keep, and forsaking all others remain true to her, as long as you both shall live?”

Viktor nodded, looking from the pastor to you. “I will.” The squeeze of his hand made your eyes swept away, the room getting too hot from all the candles lit and no windows open.

“I promise to keep you safe even when the storm is raging outside,” Viktor said, his tone gentle yet confident. Just as his muttered words of solace back at the cliff. “To accompany you in each dreary night watch, for I will be here as long as you need me to.”

You felt a lump in your throat that made it difficult to breathe without having your voice broken.

"Thank you," you couldn't stop from saying, which made him smile. His thumb brushed away a stray tear running down your cheek.

“Will you have Viktor to be your husband? To love him, comfort, and keep, and forsaking all others remain true to him, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do—I will,” you said, finding your throat dry. Viktor nodded, encouraging you silently. “I take you as my husband. To be your best friend when you’re seeking a friend. To light up the way back home if you ever get lost. I’ll be there, always.”

His gaze was hard to read, brows pinched and eyes squinting, blinking away in a tender smile. “Thank you, love,” Viktor said.

The officiant had the papers laid over the table, his pen scribbling away at the paper the complete names of you both. You glanced at the words Viktor Ambroz right next to yours when it was your turn to sign the papers.

“For the power given to me, I declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, young man. Congratulations.”

The officiant busied himself with registering the marriage in his ledgers, Viktor right in front of you. His eyes said the same plea repeating in your mind, you don’t have to do this.

But you nodded nevertheless, looking back at the officiant as if saying that it would be weird if you didn’t kiss.

In reality, you were curious about what would happen next. Finding refuge in the dimming room, Viktor couldn’t see your flustered expression if he proceeded, nor your unfiltered hurt if he chose not to.

Viktor took in a deep breath, taking your hands into his as he pulled you slightly closer, cold fingers brushing your trembling ones. His eyes seemed to read your soul from how close they were, speckles of amber and brown mixed on his irises, honey, and chocolate that felt just as sweet when he gazed down at your lips.

Suddenly shy, you closed your eyes, feeling the brush of his eyelashes when he did the same.

He leaned in and brushed his lips with yours, barely a fleeting motion, the friction making you dizzy. Viktor stayed there a second too long, or so you thought, the world seemed to stop, just as your breath and your heartbeat.

A gasp rippled through his chest when he pulled away, the orange hue of the candles letting you see the wild red blush creeping from his ears down his neck.

The officiant gave you the papers, a beam as he congratulated you both once again.

 “Let’s go, my dear, We have the whole day ahead of us to celebrate.” He smiled, taking your hand to drag you away.

If the officiant found it weird that any of you had said 'I love you', to each other, he didn't comment on it, the register was sealed official by his signature, filled with already dried ink. All opportunities of turning back were now locked away in the corresponding ledger, the leather book put inside the archive where the shadows would watch over it from the time being.

[thequeenofthewinter]

Starlit

A little self-indulgent something I pushed out for TES Summer Fest involving my Dragonborn, Dahlia and everyone's favorite grey man to hate, Ulfric Stormcloak.

@tes-summer-fest

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Words: 654, short and sweet. ;)

AO3 link: Click here

Dense fog rolls off the White River in slow, almost viscous waves, trying to swallow the whole of Windhelm in its misty jaws. Late nights in even later Summer months raise the temperatures of Eastmarch just enough to heat the freezing ice and turn it into rushing floes, tepid waters meeting the still cold air and transforming it into the suffocating blanket which now permeates the air.

Tendrils of creeping cloud seep their way through the streets, the homes, the walls—It is everywhere and everything all at once. Nothing is sacred nor safe from its suffocating touch as it blankets the whole of the city, filling every space, every crack, and every crevice in its slow march.

A blackout in white. Grey upon grey. It smothers light and sound, leaving nothing but the scent of earth and dew in its wake. 

Unbothered by the current weather or the chill of night, Ulfric stands in the middle of it at the top most part of the parapets of the Palace of the Kings.

This is where Dahlia finds him after waking to him gone from their bed at half-past the witching hour. Especially as of late, it has not been uncommon for her to awaken in the middle of the night to the cool feel of empty sheets next to her, and then for her to inevitably go on a midnight stroll, haunting the many hallways of Palace in order to find him. More often than not she discovers him in his office or perched on his throne and looking out into the void—of what only the Divines know—but this time she has to hunt for him just a little harder than usual. 

At first, she does not see him as the fog covers everything around her, but as she searches there is the faintest space where a thin stream of cold, silvery light stubbornly filters its way down to Nirn. There, Ulfric stands in a tenuous beacon of light in the even more blinding landscape of blanched alabaster, his eyes fixed and focused on the shrouded city below. 

Despite the sparse moonlight casting a crown of pale around him, his face remains stoic and dark—a penumbra against the glow trying to permeate its way into him.

He is the dimmest of starlight surrounded by infinite shades of luminance, but he is hers. She walks towards him with muffled steps until she stands beside him, joining Ulfric in his ill-advised late-night ruminations. 

“What are you looking at?” Dahlia asks him as she leans over the wall with him and looks down; she sees nothing but a sea of grey.

Turning his head, Ulfric looks to her, gaze falling over her from head to toe, and his lips upturn in the barest ghost of a smile.

What does he see? Bleak uncertainty. An unknown future. The all-consuming haze of his own failures. But he cannot tell her that.

Instead of answering with any number of those dismal truths, he finds another which will pacify her. He doesn’t need her to worry any more than she already does. “A starlit night with the brightest of them now by my side.” He replies simply as he looks down at her.

It’s a lie, and she knows it. They both know it. There is nothing out here but cold and mist-blanched stone, but she allows him to tell her so anyway if only to give him a moment of peace.

She smiles at him, the warmth of it reaching all the way to her eyes. “Then, if you see a starlit night, what I see is the shine of Magnus.” She moves a hand to cup his face as she reaches up on her tip-toes to kiss his stubbly cheek.

Even if his grey melancholy is the dullest light to most others, he is just as blinding to her as if he were plain midday.

[fatguarddog]

Ough been looking at your monster ideas and found myself struck with one and per usual had to share.

Please picture with me for a moment, laying in bed at night feeling just not full enough and certainly wanting to change it right? Tossing and turning with your hands ending up back at your belly it's so easy not to notice how unnatural the shadows have begun to move. In fact you don't notice until a inky black void like being is above you, it's cold, misty, lankey frame poking and prodding at your fat. It certainly gets your attention this way. Feeling like it's straddling your lap and possibly smiling. The moment you open your mouth though? Ohho! That substance of it is quickly forcing its way, as if it where alive, to fill you. That feeling of not being full enough quickly replaced with satisfaction, then a pleasurable ache, and then just those couple steps past teetering the line of to much. The beings body rubbing and soothing your now larger belly, comfy in your lap as it sits on your thicker thighs. Yes it seems all of yous plumped up from it's little feeding, making your clothes tighter and you much more tired. So tired you begin to fall asleep with barley a thought past how full you are, how nice this beings touches are, and how you won't mind another visit from it soon. -💣💥

As someone who has definitely fallen asleep hungry and uncomfortable from it more than once, this would be.... hoo boy this would be good and fun yes please

[dawniidawne]

As she lets her eyes wander over the equipment the singer hums a tune to herself. The notes grow sadder as her eyes slowly come to rest on her hands that lay on her lap. Looking at her ring finger she sees the ring her current boyfriend had gotten her to show that she’s “his”.

A bitter taste grew in her mouth as she looked at it. She didn’t want this. Why couldn’t she just end it with him. Why couldn’t she just speak up for once. Always gathering the nerve when it’s too late. Her eyes grew misty as her now broken humming came to an end.

She’s scared. She’s so scared to be left alone. There was someone in the past who helped to fill the void in her heart and put her worried at ease. She briefly recalls laughing with him, talking with him, and even sneaking kisses during practice.

A tear rolls down her cheek. Its been a year. Time to move on. Suddenly her band mate appears and says it’s time to go on stage but pauses seeing her face. Worriedly the band mate looks her over asking what’s wrong. The girl shakes her head and just says the nerves were getting to her.

Before her friend could say anything the girl hops up from her seat and stretches declaring it’s time for the show. Casting one last worried glance at her and nodding her friend leads her to the stage.

As she stares out at the crowd she takes a deep breath. ‘It’s time for me to be me,’she thinks to herself. As she starts singing her song along with the band she looks towards the crowd and then to the sky as it to say one last goodbye.

‘Bye-bye, Seven. I hope we both find what we’re looking for.’

As she starts belting out the last verse of the song along with the crowd she takes off her ring and tosses it into the sea of people. This makes her first step on her own path real.

———————————————————————————-

Hi this is just a small lil angsty thing I did bc I’m in love with Seven from #infamousIF and I wrote this bc I crave drama! So ready for the demo! @infamous-if here is the blog which I totally recommend following bc it has such good content! Anyways excuse any mistakes bc it’s nearly 1 am and I’m sleep deprived

[s-talking]

" Excuse me. " A petite young woman gently grasped his coat. Her eyes, though emotionless, reflected the beautiful glow of the moon onto her two-toned hues. " If it is alright with you. . . I would appreciate it if you did not take this path. " A civilian getting in the way of her assassination would complicate her mission, so discreetly directing them to take a different path seemed to be the best bet. After all, she was here to kill a single target, not an unintended second victim. " Would that be alright with you, sir? "

𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘, as a single, icy wave clashing into his existence. a surge so cold, deep, & sharp that envy's skin visibly prickled beneath the hairline. that he stopped walking almost immediately, the once lifeless eyes growing ever so slightly wider in confusion, beguiling the young serial killer turn around long before she even reached out to touch him. ❝ . . . . . ? ❞ cold. those fingers are cold, the mind whispers. the very air filling his lungs with icy weight, suffocating him, compelling him to look past the physical realm & see nothing but an endless field of snow, the sky as black as the void. no stars, no moon to light anything.

it's just so very cold here. envy begins to shiver, feeling the falling snowflakes kiss his pale cheeks just as he exhales a slow, misty breath, finally looking down at the small shadowy figure standing before him; a mass of smouldering black petals; a scent of earth, winter, & decay; who is she.... ? flattering his dark lashes in question, envy parts his lips to speak, only for something or someone to hiss into his ear, a low, deep, angry voice,

❝ LIAR! ❞

swiftly glancing back, the young serial killer doesn't see anyone but the endless field of snow, now full of dead bodies. they are all facing down. the snowflakes blanketing their backs as they slowly soak into blood. it is only when she speaks again that envy snaps out, at long last looking back at the young woman & the moonlit street, no longer trapped in the unknown. ❝ . . . . . ❞ liar, liar. they are cut from the same cloth, it seems. it's just too bad that he didn't hear anything said in prior. perhaps he should ask about it, but ah... to talk. envy isn't very keen on talking, weighting own unholy gaze 'pon the little butterfly as though a spider leering down at its next meal.

it takes great effort for him to part his pale lips, inhaling softly to mutter, ❝ i suggest.... you go home... ❞ after all, whatever it is she wanted, envy knows it will be nothing in comparison if he decides to get his hands on her.

[kharonion]

For the ask game! 🍓💄❤️

• red emoji asks •

🍓 Does your OC believe in anything? Are they superstitious? Religious? Atheistic? Has anything in their past made them this way?

For a long time, Vikt doesn't. His life is his corp; there isn't a place for anything else. It's not until he's terminated and left without hope that he starts embracing some sort of belief. Misty fills that void perfectly, offering him a spirituality that can be molded to what he needs it to be. He wouldn't qualify himself as "religious" per se, though.

💄 What does your OC think of their face? Do they have a positive or negative opinion? Do they wear makeup? Do they have a skincare routine? What traits do they like most about their face?

Vikt doesn’t think about it. It’s inconsequential; it’s never mattered. It’s only with Kerry’s, uh, Help™ that he actually finds things about his appearance that he likes, namely his eyebrows and asymmetrical freckles. He doesn’t consciously wear makeup for a reason. Reality is, it serves as an avenue for him to mask in public spaces; only the people he trusts implicitly see him stripped of it. The most routine he has is washing his face every morning and night, as he doesn’t see much benefit in complicating the shit at all.

❤️ Who is the most important person to your character? To what lengths would they go to protect this person?

I think y'all know this answer... but yeah, it's Kerry. Shocking, I know. That man is Vikt's entire damn universe, swooping it like it was destiny (coughs in "red string of fate" trope). It might seem dramatic, but Vikt will do whatever he needs to protect Kerry. He will murder, he will ruin, he will cause chaos and uproar. God fucking help whoever puts his darling in danger; they won't live to do it ever again.

[doomedandstoned]

Austrian Death-Doom Ensemble ENDONOMOS Go For Epic on 2nd LP

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Just in time for the change of seasons comes Austrian death-doomers ENDONOMOS, back for a pensive second full-length following their pandemic self-titled debut two years ago. 'Endonomos II - Enlightenment' (2024) delivers six more compelling numbers, and comprising the band are singer/songwriter Lukas Haidinger (also on bass), Christoph Steinlechner (guitar), Philipp Forster (guitar), and Marius Segl (drums).

Trafficking in the terrain of Ahab, Evoken, Mournful Congregation, Katatonia, My Dying Bride, Candlemass, Swallow The Sun and Paradise Lost, the new album fills up our tank with dark, brooding doom (the strange, dirge-like opening to "Atheon Anarkhon"), featuring some wicked fingerwork (all throughout "Inversion"), contrasting murky and melodic singing that can be either brutal and caressing (as in "Entrapment"), and all of this surrounded in a mysterious, dreamlike fog that pervades the record.

Lyrics decry the brainwashing that leads to war and the oppressiveness of religious totalitarianism throughout history, imagining utopia "outside the grip of man." I couldn't help but conjure the famous image of Rodin's "The Thinker" while listening, as words often seek reconciliation with a past too tangled and labyrinthian to take fully into comprehension.

The theme that bookends "Inversion" is a powerful doom anthem that I keep turning up the volume on. There are some beautiful dual guitar harmonies on "Atheon Anarkhon" is dismal a.f. and I love it. The sequence of rhythm, riffmaking, melodic guitar antics, gruff and haunted crooning builds fantastically, like pillar of ashen smoke taking shape into a terrible Phoenix and claiming the expanse of the sky.

"Resolve" brings us rainy riffmaking that goes for Serpentine Path depths of low, with strong rhythmic architecture, dazzling guitar play, and dissonant stretches that juxtapose with vocals that come through like a ray of sunshine piercing dark clouds. The slow guitar is almost mesmerizing and the plaintive melodies touch a sorrowful place in my brain, as I contemplate the lyrics: "In time I'll resolve into the void, to blissful unconsciousness." This coupled with powerful, thudding rhythms that ground the listener to the hard, cold physical reality of the here and now.

"Entrapment" is pure winter -- one can imagine trudging through feet of snow in a landscape blanketed in white and covered by low hanging clouds. In fact, the lyrics speak of being taken "back to days of cold." There are some touching and effective guitar harmonies in league with the beautifully tragic intro/outro of Pentagram's "I Am Vengeance." And when the downtuned low-end joins in the emphatic latter moments, it's so damned heavy it shakes all around.

"Hostile" has that misty feeling from the aftermath of tears that Pallbearer fans will appreciate. Vocals are appropriately subterranean as it features the growls of Daniel Droste of Ahab fame. These are paired with clean pipes that, while forlorn, are accessible, and can also really soar.

"Kafir Qal'a" ends the record on a dismal note and has the feel of epic doom about it. Big chords, resounding soundwaves, grim arpeggios, screeching axework that hints at the extreme metal background of its handlers. The dark/light pairing of vocal styles works very well as the verses unfold, which may reference a battle fought around an ancient citadel somewhere in the first century.

Keep this one playing and really soak it in for max effect. Endonomos II - Enlightenment comes out Friday, September 27th, on compact disc and digital via Argonauta Records (get it here).

Give ear...

SOME BUZZ

Austrian epic doom metal Endonomos announces new album "Endonomos II - Enlightenment" via Argonauta Records. On their second album Endonomos refined their sound, going deeper and more eclectic in their particular vision of Doom Metal.

From the uncanny intro of dissonant chords and unsettling sounds to heavy, mean riffs and a highly melodic chorus, this one sports all the trademarks of Endonomos' distinct style, while pushing its boundaries.

The ancient Greek song title "Atheon Anarkhon" could be translated as "no god, no sovereign" and deals not only with the inseparability of atheism and anarchism, but mainly how their counterparts (theism and autocracy) contradict human nature and corrupt the human mind." - says the band.

Endonomos II - enlightenment by Endonomos

Recorded, mixed and mastered once again at DeepDeepPressure Studios, the album delivers thick riffs, epic melodies, uncanny chord progressions,

The first single "Hostile", boasting at almost 9 minutes length, is a highly melodic doom monolith, dealing with the inherently ill-disposed nature of life towards each other, and features guest vocals by Daniel Droste of German Doom Spearheads Ahab.

Endonomos is the brainchild of Austrian multi-instrumentalist, producer and session musician Lukas Haidinger, who is mostly known for playing extreme metal in bands such as Profanity, Nervecell, Distaste and many more, but as a longtime doomer, he finally brought his sinister yet melodic sound to tape.

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[xasha777]

In the shadow of an opulent lunar spectacle, under the haunting glow of twin moons, stood Lysandra, the last guardian of the Lunar Gate. Her world, Etherea, was a place where the mystical and the mechanical intertwined, a planet whispered about in the distant reaches of the universe for its ancient secrets and powerful artifacts.

The towering castle behind Lysandra, veiled in the misty cloak of night, housed the most coveted of these relics—the Celestial Prism, a device capable of bending time and space. It was an invention of the brilliant but eccentric Colley Cibber, a scientist from another dimension who, during his own era on Earth, was known merely as a playwright. In Etherea, however, his genius found a new expression in the steam-powered technologies and otherworldly energies he harnessed.

As the guardian, Lysandra's duty was to protect the Prism from those who sought to exploit its power. Clad in a gown of black lace, with eyes as piercing as the stars above, she was a figure of both beauty and fear. Her presence alone deterred many, but on this night, the air was thick with the electricity of impending danger.

From the depths of the interstellar void, a fleet of starships descended upon Etherea, commanded by a ruthless marauder known only as The Vortex. His goal was clear: to seize the Celestial Prism and use it to manipulate time, creating an empire that would span the past, present, and future.

The ground shook as the starships landed, and Lysandra prepared herself for the confrontation. As The Vortex and his legion advanced toward the castle, she invoked the ancient rites of the moon, her voice echoing through the twisted columns and over the cobblestone. Shadows danced at her command, coalescing into spectral warriors that rose to defend their domain.

The battle was fierce, with the clash of ethereal swords against the metallic hum of laser weapons filling the night air. Lysandra moved through the chaos like a specter, her spells weaving a protective barrier around the castle.

In the heart of the castle, amidst the cacophony of battle, the Celestial Prism pulsed with a light as brilliant as the moons above. Colley Cibber's creation was activating, responding to the threat with a display of power that had not been witnessed since its creation. The Prism unleashed a wave of temporal energy, distorting the flow of time around the castle.

As the invaders found themselves caught in loops of repeated moments, Lysandra struck, her powers magnified by the Prism's influence. One by one, The Vortex's forces fell, unable to withstand the relentless assault of a guardian empowered by time itself.

With the dawn, the starships retreated, leaving Etherea in peace once more. The Vortex, trapped in a perpetual loop of his last defeat, became a cautionary tale of ambition that flew too close to the moons.

Lysandra stood before the Celestial Prism, her heart heavy with the burden of her duty. As she touched the artifact, she whispered a thanks to the spirit of Colley Cibber, whose genius not only transcended genres and eras but also dimensions. Under the vigilant gaze of the twin moons, she resumed her watch, the eternal guardian of time and space, forever ready to defend the world that had become her charge.

[a-earthssprout]

🌼🐌 you may see a serious guy, but we see a friend 😌 // ( @ironbonds / continued from 💎 ! )

IT WAS AS IF TINY, CHEERFUL ANGELS FLOATED DOWN FROM THEIR heaven of greenery, laden with blessings and full of intention—how Ari came to be of interest to them on this day was mystery. It wasn't one different from the average; little Ari was all alone, though quite happy in spite of it, for she—as she was often left to her own devices—had plenty of experience in creating her own sort of fun. IMAGINATION made the strong roots that helped blossom the best things for games of pretend, and what little Ari pretended on this day was that she was surrounded by friends. Dear ones; ones who care for her and whom she cared for; ones that enjoyed her company immensely, and had no trouble nor aversion to the thought of outdoor play; ones that were excited to see all the treasures she had gathered up in her trusty wicker basket, which could be generously shared and kept safe among the group. 

Ari imagined that the wild animals around her took the places of these ' friends ', but the fun of it was temporary. It only ever was—for, though animals were drawn to and quite comfortable around nature’s little soul, they were not always so different from people. The animals would eventually scurry off. At least they weren't as hasty as people to do so. 

But since these ' angels ' had wrapped little Ari in luck, allowing her a trip up to the lovely place that they call home, and introduced her to their kind friend named Knuckles, Ari felt that there was no need to pretend—no need to wish and imagine, for she was now surrounded in valuable company, making loneliness a thing of the past, and it was certainly better than any picture that a mind could paint. Though Knuckles wore a rather serious face and possessed an authoritative air ( which was encouraged heavily by his body language in particular ) there was something gentle in his eyes—something SWEET. Ari did not feel it necessary to curl up beneath them. He possessed nearly every trait that Ari wished for in someone: a willingness to explore the outdoors, an appreciation for such, and even a little special, indescribable something that made him feel like a FRIEND. 

Needless to say, Ari was already so incredibly fond of him and the Chao ( who felt more like FAIRIES than angels to Ari by this point ), and it all felt too good to let go of so suddenly—too painful to part with. It was as if she knew, in spite of what little one knows at the tender age of six, that the void in her heart would return slowly as the fairy friends brought her home—that the ache of missing him would be far too much to bear. 

" b — b … buh … but I'll miss you … " 

“ … I … I love m — mr. Knucky … ”

His tone isn’t strict, but something in it told Ari that Knuckles wouldn’t budge. Her little fingers met at her chest, twiddling together as her innocent eyes wandered, taking note of all the things about the island that she had quickly come to love, and avoiding the ' part ' of it that she was most attached to. But little Ari was not disobedient, and she worried that if she resisted any more than she already had through her genuine words, it would be unlikely that she would EVER be allowed to return. No, it was not worth such a risk … 

But Ari still couldn't help her upset. The gaze once filled with sunshine was now dulled by a shadow that was made by the thought of what's bound to come next. It soon met with his, and for every moment it stayed there, it became sadder and sadder. Ari tried her very best to remain calm—to stay behaved—but her emotions betrayed her; her eyes became misty with tears, and her bottom lip quivered as she tried to put her words together. PESKY words … 

Though … there was something nice that he said that she could hold onto—something REASSURING. The promise of a tomorrow. Light flickered in her eyes. It seems that Knuckles had unknowingly applied the correct balm. 

“ r — re … really … ? ” Ari began, a hint of disbelief in her tone. It washed away, however, absent in the words that followed, which were completely saturated in hopeful cheer. She shuffled towards him and placed her little hand atop one of his, minding the spikes, and blinked her tears away. A genuine smile grew, and quite soon her freckled face became a happy one again. TOMORROW. She can see him again tomorrow! 

“ mmm … may I come again, please? muh … may I really?! ” 

Ari started to bounce lightly on her toes. “ I prrr … pro— I promise to be very, very good! veeeery good! sss … so I can see mr. Knuh … mr. Knucky tomorrow! ”

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Mortal of Gold - Part 3

(Yandere!C!Techno x GN!Shy!Reader x Yandere!C!Philza)

Anyone want my list of the characters as gods? There were a few characters that I couldn't think of like Ponk, so I just left them out. ANYWAY. Hi, how's it going? ALSO I CANT EDIT THIS DAMN POST AND THE SPELLING ERRORS ARE SO IRRITATING

Part 1 Part 2 TW: Mention of amnesia, memories being altered Send me a message via inbox if you wanna be added to a general or series tag list. Make sure to turn off anon, please. ------- “They weren’t born… A mortal?”

A light wind brushed over your features, causing you to give a small sigh and roll over onto your side in an attempt to block the light from hitting your lidded eyes. It was nice and quiet for once… “(Y/n)?” A distorted voice echoed softly, causing you to flinch a bit. You opened your eyes slightly to see a silky blackbird sitting on the sheets beside you, a few golden trinkets laying beside it. Upon seeing your eyes slide open, the creature hopped up onto its legs and began making soft cooing noises, “(Y/n)! (Y/n), you’re awake!” Glancing around at the surroundings you had been placed in, racking your mind for any sort of familiarity but failing to come up with anything at all, even who you were. You sat up, slowly brushing your fingers along your ombre silk clothing before putting your hands on the sheets below your body, frowning as you didn’t recognize the bed as yours. “Hello…” You murmured softly, reaching your hand out to the crow who eagerly jumped forward to nuzzle your hand. The feathers of the bird felt… Odd. They felt more like grabbing at misty fog, but with a light staticky cotton texture that caused a buzzing sensation on your fingertips, “I’m sorry, my memory… Seems to be a tad faulty… Could you tell me your name?” “I’m Chat, Dadza- er… Philza’s familiar! I was a gift from Mumza, oops... Kristen, the Goddess of Void and Death.” It chirped, its voice having multiple layers in your head, causing you to shake your head a slight bit, “No, they’re not married, only parental figures to the souls that pass on to the afterlife or those they saved sometime before they passed on… I believe they have more of a co-worker relationship.” You nodded slightly, pursing your lips at how the creature’s voice sounded in your mind. It was unsettling and caused shivers to crawl up and down your back, but at the same time, it was incredibly calming and had a soothing aura. How that worked, you had no clue whatsoever. Brushing off the unsettling voice of the bird, you decided to focus on the name that caused a light to go off in your head, “Alright… Philza… I think I remember that name…” “Yeah! Dadza- Eck… Sorry. Phil, he’s the God of Survival and Crows! He controls not only every crow in the mortal land, but he also controls whether or not someone will survive a situation. If there is no way that the mortal can survive, he will send a crow down and have them guide the soul of the mortal to him! Then he escorts them to Kristen! He has gained the name Angel of Death because he works for Mumza!” You decided not to question why the crow called Philza and Kristen Mumza and Dadza, knowing that you’d probably find out later, but by the sound of it Chat seemed to be multiple children, “Okay… Makes sense…” You mumbled slowly, nodding your head up and down. With a sigh you slowly brought your legs over to the side of the bed, only now becoming aware of how large the soft mattress was. Lowlands! (Hell) You could probably fit six people who were ten feet tall in it with room to roam! Pushing yourself off the bed, you also realized how high the beautiful bed was off the floor, Gods, whoever lived here was tall! Behind you, you heard a small chirp, and you saw Chat watching you curiously. With a small shrug, you decided to pick the familiar up and hold it in your cupped hands as you walked out the door, “Oooh! Dadza never carries us like this, and Technoblade does only when he’s about to yeet us out a window!” “Yeet?” You scowled in confusion as you walked through the arched doorway, your bare feet padding silently on the quartz flooring, “I'm scared to ask. Technoblade? Is he also a god of some things? He sounds familiar as well…” “That’s its word for throwing something. Well, it yells the word when they throw something or get thrown, so I assume it’s yelling in excitement,” A deep voice spoke from in front of you, causing you to gasp and lift your head from the crow. The telepathic chirping and squeaks from Chat in your mind quickly formed the name Technoblade, so… You had a feeling that your answer was on its way past his

lips, “I’m Technoblade, or Techno, the God of Blood and War. It’s… nice to see you finally awake…” He shifted awkwardly on his feet as you curiously studied him. His appearance could certainly be described as godly if anyone asked you. His long pink hair was mostly twisted and tied into a braid with bits of golden chain and a polished golden crown adorned with rubies, garnets and diamonds. Upon his pale skin, dozens of scars of varying sizes decorated his skin in different areas, but they were displayed in an almost proud manner. Almost. When he spoke, his dark pink eyes hidden behind cracked glasses searched your form for any sort of injury, “I’m… (Y/n)... I think. I don’t know if this bird is exactly trustworthy in its information… Do you know where I am?” Techno snorted as Chat gave an offended squawk at your statement, “That’s very fair, to be honest. You’re in the Tundra of the Upperlands, and this is my palace. No there is no snow, I believe the person who named this place has never looked into the name or word Tundra, but it’s been like this for too long to change it-” He paused for a moment as he noticed you looking extremely confused, “Ah. Right. Desert. Don’t worry about it.” “Oh… Okay…” You frowned at the tusked male for a moment before shaking your head, deciding not to question it much, “Now, uh… How did I get here, and why don’t I remember anything about myself? Or, about you and this Philza guy, I was told about.” You lifted Chat slightly toward Techno as a silent indication that Chat was the one who told you about Phil. “That’s uh… Phil’s field of expertise.” He rubbed the back of his head with his black-tipped fingers before adjusting his crown, “I don’t understand much of what happened, and Phil will tell you what you need to know that will keep you safe.” Hesitantly, he held his free hand out towards you making you realize that he was easily over seven and a half feet tall, “C’mon, I’ll take you to him and get you the answers you need.” His hand was extremely steady, you noticed as you stared down at it cautiously. Once you noticed that he didn’t seem to want to do you harm, you slowly shifted Chat into one hand and used your free hand to take the one extended to you, which you couldn’t help but notice, made Technoblade very happy, “Okay. Thank you.” The god held your hand in his calloused one for a few moments before beginning to lead you down the tan and white hallways that were turned a light golden hue from the rising sun. It was quite a long walk filled with a slightly uncomfortable silence, but you distracted yourself by looking around the palace curiously. It was obvious he was the God of War by how many swords hanging on walls and sets of armour he had placed on armour stands in the hallways. Eventually, he walked you through an archway that led into a wide-open room with multiple windows that had many crows perched on the windowsills, some chirping and singing some little tune in perfect unison while others shuffled around, seeming to do a little dance. You were quick to realize the whistling of one of the birds didn’t match up and noticed that it was coming from the man with the large white and green striped hat as well as massive black feathered wings dangling on his back, fluffing themselves up every so often. When you and Techno stepped in, the blackbirds started chirping loudly, losing the rhythm of the tune the winged man was whistling as Chat started telepathically squealing about… 2/4? Two out of four what? “Ah!” The hat-wearing male turned around and clasped his hands together upon seeing you standing up, “(Y/n), you’re awake. I was worried the injuries you sustained were enough to keep you out cold for a few more weeks. I’m glad to see I was wrong. I’m Philza, God of Survival and Crows, and I see you’ve met Chat and Techno. Pesky bird, I told it not to wake you...” You pursed your lips for a moment, analyzing the shorter god as the bird squealed out its protests. While he was shorter than Techno, he was certainly tall, standing roughly around six feet tall, his wingspan

probably double that for each wing! His blonde hair was long around his face but was pulled into a loose braid like Techno’s was, although instead of gold intertwined into his hair, it was silver. His outfit was made up of a loose green shirt and black pants, with a red heart-shaped pendant dangling off of a chain into the center of his chest. Why did that pendant… Look familiar? You slowly rose your hand up and clasped at the pendant around your neck, noticing how Philza smiled softly, “Technoblade… Said you could tell me why I can’t remember anything?” “You’re still wearing my gift, I see,” Philza gave a soft hum as Chat jumped from your hand and onto his shoulder, before gesturing for you and Techno to take a seat where he already had drinks and some form of cakes set out, but they certainly weren’t there when you came in. Upon seeing your confused blinking, he gave a soft laugh, “I’m a god, mate, magic is no difficult task for me, let alone creating some measly tea and desserts. Now, sit down and I will tell you everything…” - General - None Mortal of Gold -@generalalmond @binas-idea-vault @ohworm-writes

[lovebykai]

Whoops

Pairing(s): Kiyoomi Sakusa x Reader & Ryuguji Ken x Reader

Warning(s): NSFW. Spanking. Oral (M. Receiving). Threesome. Brat Taming. Dubcon?

Haikyuu!! x Tokyo Revengers Crossover

Authors Note: Just for fun! Because I was eavesdropping on @souyawn & @anubai in the GC and got inspired to dabble.

You regret every bad decision you've ever made that landed you here. It had to be some kind of karma— you must have kicked puppies in a past life or something.

Or it could just be that you'd maybe-possibly-definitely poked too hard at your boyfriends tonight.

The first sharp glance from your dark haired lovers should have been enough of a warning. Normally it would have been. Except Draken had made a point to piss you off about the length of your dress — you couldn't remember the details outside of he tried to convince you to wear something longer and Kiyoomi had agreed with him, the audacity — so you'd spent the evening being passive aggressive to get back at them.

The second one had only made you smirk at them over your wine glass.

The third, though... well, you'd realized your mistake.

"Cut the shit." Kiyoomi has the dangerous growl in his voice that he uses right before he bruises your ass and it makes your thighs squeeze together on instinct. Draken and him share a glance before a hand lands against your lower back, pressing you forward hard enough that you stumble in your heels.

The way Kiyoomi quirks his brow when you open your mouth makes it snap closed immediately.

And that's how you ended up here.

"You just had to wear this fucking dress, huh?" Draken doesn't even get jealous— it was Kiyoomi that got worked up when people looked at you too long. That didnt save you from the way he had flipped your dress up and landed four quick swats to your ass.

You're fine with that though because Kiyoomi hits harder. Years as a professional athlete who excels in slapping the shit out of things will do that, you supposed.

"I'm—"

Thwack!

Your squeal earns a soft chuckle from both men. Kiyoomi is meticulously folding up his suit and you're staring with misty eyes as he tugs the tie from his neck shortly after.

"You let that mouth get you into so much trouble." Kiyoomi sounds so calm it makes your skin itch. He should be furious. It was his dumb event the three of you had been attending after all.

"I didn't mean— fuck, Draken!" You sniffle, kicking your legs a bit as you try to wriggle away from the growing ache on your backside.

"Don't open your mouth if you're going to lie." He says simply, voice void of the annoyance you're expecting. It just makes the tears filling your eyes come faster and you kick more in frustration.

And then Kiyoomi spanks you.

Its instant fire on your skin and you finally burst into tears, sobbing as he rubs the sting out with a soft, sympathetic hum. Draken moves the arm he's pressed across your shoulders, freeing you only so that he can haul you up to look at them both. Kiyoomi squeezes your cheeks in his hand, eyes narrowing as you try to choke back your sniffling.

"Are you going to embarass me again?" Vaguely you realize it should be a crime that it only took one firm smack on your ass from this man to get you in line, but all you can manage is a garbled agreement. Draken is pressing a kiss to the back of your head as you shift and squirm on your tender cheeks, trying to get comfortable.

"You were really bad, baby." He chuckles, hips shifting forward enough that you feel the bulge tucked away in his slacks.

"How are you gonna make it up to us?" Kiyoomis lips quirk up as he just smushes your cheeks more, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your puckered lips.

It's not a question. Not really.

Because in the next heartbeat they've manhandled you again despite your whining and squirming; when you're faced with Drakens throbbing length you swallow thickly. Oh shit.

"Open." You shake your head, already dreading the way your jaw is going to ache, but then he's hooking a thumb between your lips and tugging down and—

Kiyoomi gives you no warning, tugging your panties to the side and pushing himself into you with a soft sigh of relief. It burns. Fuck, it burns, but you know it's supposed to and for some reason that has you gushing around him.

"Open up for me, love." It's a command you try to heed as he reaches down to gently massage your clit, rocking his hips with shallow thrusts. Inch by inch he's bullying himself into your tight little cunt and it has you whimpering.

Meanwhile, Draken has stuffed himself passed your lips despite your half-hearted protests. Your tongue is lulled out to make room for him as he gently works his cock in and out of your mouth, eyes fixated on the way you manage to fit him into the wet cavern.

It makes you feel beautiful and loved and—

He smirks when you gag abruptly; Kiyoomi finally seating himself completely in your quivering little hole with enough force to rock you forward. Both of them let out soft rumbles akin to purrs and you realize—

It's gonna be a long fucking night.

[littlefreya]

White Honey

Summary: Waking up the morning after you lost your virginity to Henry, you muse of the night before while feeling hungry for more.  

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Word count: 2K

Warning: Smut, loss of virginity, mentions of blood, mentions and slight oral, unprotected sex, bodily fluids.

A/N: Written by anon request. Slight, gentle-rough. Many thanks to @agniavateira​ for the beta!  Please remember to give feedback and reblog. 

Title: White Honey.

Pale sunlight shone through an ocean of white linens that draped around you securely. The surroundings still felt like a misty collection of dreams: mellow and saccharine, holding you in their embrace. Yet, a throbbing twinge at the apex of your body welcomed you into a newly-found awakening. 

You were no longer a virgin. 

Every muscle strained to remind you of said "stolen" innocence. Looking down your naked form, bruises peered in return. Dull, purple fingerprints covered your breasts, hips, and thighs; each mark indicating the blood vessels that ruptured under Henry's greed and desire. 

You stifled a pained groan, reaching a hand between your aching thighs to soothe another throb that quaked your sore mound. Henry tried to be tender, at least when he unravelled your seams and penetrated you for the first time. But his size and weight were both generous; once he began moving, all control was lost. He was drawn into you in a daze, adoring the reaches of you with every jerk of his hips. 

It was as if he just stepped into heaven and yearned to fill his soul with every inch of it. 

Sanctified in a primal dance, you made passionate love. His thrusts were slow but rough, unaware of his strength and of the fire in his blood that drove him to get more and more. Your words made no sense, neither did the beating of your heart. Though breathless gasps told a story: You needed this emotion to go on like an endless ocean, with your legs engulfing him tightly, pulling him deeper until your bodies became laced together in euphoria. 

A soft blush stained your cheeks at the memory, and your flesh felt ablaze again. The man who claimed your virginity was asleep by your side radiating warmth, inviting you to bask in his pungent musk. Feeling a soft longing, you sneaked a quick glimpse, watching how his furry chest rose slightly in his sleep. His scent was still on you, and yours was on him; it was as if you've been carried by the calming breeze, floating in a sea of creamy light.

A foolish smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head at yourself, feeling unbelievably immature and frivolously in love. You rolled on your side, wincing at the soreness in your core while determined to sneak out of his bed. 

A firm grip pulled you back beneath the covers into the hardness of Henry's broad chest. 

Low and pleasant, his groan tumbled in your ear like a bear awakening from his slumber. His torso entirely covered your spine, making your heart flutter as your skin grazed together, and his heat embraced you. 

"Morning kitten," Henry murmured, voice still husky from sleep.  

It was as if you were already together for a hundred years, his lips and hands felt familiar as they secured you. He dotted your exposed neck with languid kisses and cradled your jaw between his stark fingers that painted an invisible pattern on your jawline. 

"Hi," you replied coyly and grinned to yourself, trying to shake off an onslaught of giggles as his stubble tickled. Entangled limb to limb, you felt small. Henry wrapped himself around you, declaring you as his through the language of his body. His knees pushed between the back of your thighs, forcing your legs open which accidentally elicited a dry whimper of pain out of your throat. Embarrassment burned in your cheeks; it was enough that he made you cry out as he tore through your seal the very night before. There was no need for another embarrassing vocal reminder. 

"Aww sweetheart," Henry cooed, pushing you to lie flat on your back while he shuffled to lean on his elbow. His blue gaze focused on your blushing face, a comforting grin tugging his lips. He bumped his nose against yours before offering a chaste kiss.

"You're sore?" 

You nodded quietly, watching as he raised a hand and placed it on your sternum. The air left you at once, lungs shuddering as the pads of his fingers glided down your supple skin. His big blues followed, watching how you sunk and caved, bound to his strokes like a tamed lioness.

"Was I too rough?"

"No…" You replied and pressed your chin into his shoulder shyly. "Maybe a bit, but you're just…" You never thought your cheeks could burn this much. "You're really big, and everything kinda hurts right now."

"I'm so sorry," he answered sincerely as he leaned to brush his lips over your nipple ever so delicately. "I don't want to hurt you."

Your eyes fluttered shut, your breath suddenly shallow. It felt so natural to feel his mouth on your skin as if it always belonged there. Flowing down your abdomen, he left wet markings that felt chilled upon his departure while his large palm smoothed itself down your apex. Fingers etched at your ripe cherry, massaging gently to soothe your discomfort. 

Immediately, you flinched. No one touched you there, no one but Henry. And he was the man you pined for, perhaps your entire life, without even knowing so. 

When he held you, it was as if every cell came to life, tingling as both past and present blend into a sweet whirlpool of physical touch and emotions.

"Good?" He asked, his thumb sensually circling your pearl. 

"Good." You hummed, arching on the mattress as more kisses followed down the long trail of your torso. Henry attempted to take your distress away as he tasted your body. His loving lips coated every bruise while his palm rubbed your swollen womanhood protectively.  

You jolted as you felt something wet snake down your navel, briefly realizing it was his warm, skilful tongue that descended gracefully to the valley of your pelvis. Henry was specifically enthused to work the magic of his mouth on you, as proven many nights before. He made love to you with nothing but his tongue, drinking from the fountain between your thighs. 

No one made you come like this before, thrusting and grasping onto the sheets with desperation as another orgasm rocked its way through your body. In your mind, you screamed for him to fuck you already. But even if you did vocalize your desire, he'd wait.

Henry wanted you right when you both stood at the edge of frustration.  

Grasping your legs, he unwrapped you once again, folding them up while settling in-between. The mixture of brownish-pink dried blood and semen was evident beneath your behind. You hid your face beneath your hands and shook your head in protest as you peered down and noticed what Henry discovered. 

He chuckled at your response and pressed his lips to your inner thigh. "Don't worry", he said, trying to reassure you. "It's a nice something to remind me of my first time with you." 

"No, it's embarrassing." You retorted, your answer muffled by your palms. A moan broke out of your lips as Henry's mouth lined your inner thighs, dangerously inching toward your sacred entrance. You shivered as you felt him huffing against your slit.

"Hen…" you called out, your legs visibly trembling in his grasp. He hardly minded your state, intent on making the burn inside you subside. It only ignited a different type of warmth, and as his lips found yours. 

You felt the fire rise again, drenching your core with want, the void within calling to be filled. 

You ached for him.

"I need you," you begged, your fingers reaching the messy bundle of dark curls that grazed your torso as he held his mouth at the edge of your groin. "I need you inside me."

The air pushed out of your lungs as Henry dragged you down to meet him, massive and brooding. He soared from above, his groin resting between your spread legs. One hand pressed the side of your body while the other seized his shaft and bobbed it between your lust-coated folds.

"Are you sure?" he asked, but you felt as if it was nothing but mere courtesy as he already teased the tip of his erection at your now deflowered sleek. Panting with exhilaration, you nodded frantically, desperate for the cure of the sudden loneliness inside you. 

You were reduced to vocal begging, mewls coming out from your throat while your talons reached to scratch as his shoulders.

"Please, please."

Answering your plea, he pressed himself between your silken petals, carefully driving into your ripe haven. Slowly, an inch at a time, rediscovering the kingdom that he now owned. 

It still felt like the first time; your hot mouths hovered agape onto one another, exchanging loud gasps, astonished by the union. 

"Henry!" you mewled his name, your nails sinking deep into his back. Your canal was still too taut, too raw. The awkward sting inside made your thighs clench around his hips, and you couldn't help but tear. 

There was a war between pleasure and pain inside you.

Sheathed all the way in, he stilled inside you. Immediately, reached to kiss your temples, collecting the tears that escaped your closed eyes. He whispered something in your ear while wrapping his arm around your back and drew you near.

You couldn't make sense of it as all you could think of was how his large cock pulsated between your closing walls.

Opening your eyes, you saw him staring down at you with love burning in his gaze. His lips were a tad gaping, quivering ever so slightly as if he meant to speak but couldn't find the words.

There was no need to say it, though. You both felt it, and your response was the wider spread of your hips as you attempted to take him deeper, and the snake-like squirm as you pulled against him. Henry followed, his hand fisting your hair as he began to stroke you within, grunting as he felt the pull of your body.  

"You feel amazing," he panted as your walls wrapped around him rhythmically, sucking him deeper like an ocean sinking a ship, threatening to never let go. But he welcomed his demise, letting himself drown into your mysterious depths. 

The serene ocean of sheets turned into a humid whirlpool of sweat and groans. You pushed against him with desperation, a whimpering mess. Your breasts squeezed at the wall of his chest, and your bodies slammed with demand while your groin shifted upward. 

Fire began to spill from your gut as your clit grazed against the bone of his groin. Henry continued to move harder into you, stretching you to accommodate him with every push and shove. Yet, you could only feel your body fighting to grip onto him more. He groaned in your ear, his face buried in your neck while his body continued to crush you.

The stroke of his hairy abdomen against your belly made you shiver; you felt yourself being consumed by the flames that spread throughout your soul. Once more, you experienced the type of wholeness that made you sob.

This love made you weak and fearful of how intensely you felt. 

Blackness fell on your sight and behind your eyes; golden butterflies spread their wings as you ascended into euphoria. Coming undone you cried his name and reached to grab the cheeks of his behind, clutching them hard urging him to fill you.

"Come inside me," you begged, peering at him through a veil of tears. "I want you to fill me, please." 

Henry snapped, pulsating hot inside you. He rode you earnestly, the muscles of his behind flexing inward and you could sense him swelling bigger and pulsating as his climax drew near.

An onslaught of grunts and animalistic roars tore from his throat. Henry's chest lifted from yours, and he threw his head back as he spilled himself, pumping you full of his hot seed. His cum felt like a soothing warm lake of honey inside you, taking the very last tendrils of pain away. 

Humming to yourself you tried to relax, hugging the bear of a man on top of you. Your hearts still fluttered as the pleasure lingered, surrounding you both in a euphoric aura. As the air shook through your lungs and your tears dried, you kissed his cheek and moved your lips to whisper in his ear.

"I think I kinda like it when you hurt me..."  

Henry growled gently, shifting his head slightly to brush his lips against yours and bump your noses together.

"Well it's a good thing that we have all weekend to ourselves, we can stay in bed and test some... boundaries. Shall we?" 

_______