#ruin of the house of the divine visage

[sticksandsharks]

Devoted (To You)

An exclusive A5 print I made for the Ruin Of the House of the Divine Visage Kickstarter for the comic written and illustrated by my wonderful friends @evegwood and @spiremint!!

[spiremint]

RUIN OF THE HOUSE OF THE DIVINE VISAGE IS NOW A PROJECT WE LOVE ON KICKSTARTER!

In a monastery where revealing one's face is an affront to the god housed inside its very chambers, what happens when one young man accidentally sees the face of another?

RUIN is the brand new collaborative graphic novel from @evegwood and @spiremint, a 130-page comic about religion and queer romance. Buy the completed graphic novel on Kickstarter!

RUIN is also being posted as a webcomic that you can read for FREE at visagecomic.com! Follow @thunderstormstudios to get new page updates every Tuesday!

[thunderstormstudios]

RUIN OF THE HOUSE OF THE DIVINE VISAGE IS NOW LIVE ON KICKSTARTER!

In a monastery where revealing one's face is an affront to the god housed inside its very chambers, what happens when one young man accidentally sees the face of another?

RUIN is the brand new collaborative graphic novel from @evegwood and @spiremint, a 130-page comic about religion and queer romance. Buy the completed graphic novel on Kickstarter!

RUIN is also being posted as a webcomic that you can read for FREE at visagecomic.com! Follow @thunderstormstudios to get new page updates every Tuesday!

[evegwood]

Please look at these amazing visagecomic.com gifts our friends gave me and @spiremint!! The painted shell is from our pal Connor and the little Mordecai doll is from our pal @sticksandsharks, who also did the Kickstarter print 😭💖

[aeori-o]

I don't normally reblog from my weird media side blog but it's really rare that I get to experience something that's gone out into the world in a very 'official' way that's been made by someone I know!

Ruin of the House of the Divine Visage is a wonderful, short comic by @spiremint and @evegwood which you can read a decent chunk of here so you don't even have to trust anything I say, you can check it out yourself!

The comic is absolutely gorgeous! The composition alone does so much to set the mood for every scene and story beat. (There's a section toward the beginning where dialogue bubbles are set over the faint impression of eyes in the background which is -chef's kiss- It's so unnerving. And then there's a section later I adored where there's something of a relationship-development montage going between private and public life and I love how they sat opposite to each other. So, so, so good. And there's more but I don't want to spoil the entire thing by babbling about how every single panel is perfect.)

There's also some really fun things that were super nostalgic for me. Things I noticed in one of the protagonists that really brought me back to stuff Spire made forever ago and stuff Spire's still making! (It made me smile so much, I loved to see it and be able to hold it in my hands.) And! The conlang stuff! I got so excited by the alphabet-beads that as soon as I realized there was a page to do translations I started doing them for each page and only once I was halfway through the book did I realize there were translations provided on the following page. (BUT It was missing the page 0 "to those who cannot run" so I got to feel pleased with myself about that one.)

Anyway! This comic is amazing, the art is a feast for the eyes and the story is short but heartfelt. It kicked me right in the feelings.

And if you're reading this, Spire, congratulations to you (and Eve!) on getting this bad boy out into the world!

[saintobio]

LONG LIVE THE VILLAINESS !

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), misogyny, violence, war, rebellion, suggestive, smut, gore, double life, explicit language, more to be added

♱ notes. this fic draws heavy inspirations from the webnovel ‘sister, i am the queen in this life’ and manhwa of the same name. it’s basically a fanfic of that series bc i am obsessed with it :’D

♱ status. on-going (slow updates)

♱ SECOND TIMELINE TO AS YOU LIKE IT ♱

PROLOGUE.

ACT I. THE LADY

ACT II. THE CROWN PRINCE

ACT III. THE KNIGHT

ACT IV. THE STAR CROSSED LOVERS

ACT V. THE BLESSED

ACT VI. THE SIN

ACT VII. THE REVELATION

ACT VIII. THE ENEMY

ACT IX. THE LOVER

ACT X. THE EMPRESS

EPILOGUE.

PROLOGUE 

Like plunging beneath the surface of water and then, abruptly, breaking through to the air above—your body jolted as if awakening in a new world altogether. You drew in a long breath, your eyes fluttering open to reveal the ceiling, both familiar yet unfamiliar in its greeting. Swiftly, you surveyed your surroundings, noting with growing recognition the confines of your old room within the De Roma estate. The estate! 

You were not in the palace of Caelum, but in the estate of House De Roma. A surge of realization flooded through you as you dashed towards the nearest mirror, confronting your reflection with wide, startled eyes. 

No... could it be... that you have returned to your body, ten years prior?!

In the mirror, the reflection staring back at you was not that of the notorious wife of the tyrant Emperor Satoru, but of a 20-year-old maiden, the eldest daughter of Duke de Roma, with fuller cheeks and a more youthful appearance. You could not shake the feeling of disbelief, wondering if this was all just a dream, so you reached out to touch your arms and felt the flesh beneath your fingers, trying to convince yourself that this was an unexpected reality.

Oh, you were back. You found yourself returned to your former self, a decade younger, but now armed with the knowledge of your past life's actions and their consequences. Alongside this newfound understanding, the gift of clairvoyance had also been bestowed upon you.

And for what? Why had the heavens above returned you to your body? Was it for revenge, a second chance, or perhaps punishment?

Suddenly, a loud, deafening sound pierced your ears, and a blinding white light enveloped your vision. Your body became as still as a statue, and it felt as though your soul was transported to a fourth dimension where divine intervention seemed a lot more plausible to exist.

As your soul hovered in the liminal space between life and death, you found yourself standing before a figure cloaked in billowing robes, her presence commanding and her gaze piercing. This figure was Fortuna, the ancient Caelan goddess of fortune and fate, her visage austere and unforgiving.

“Are you aware of the sins that stain your soul?” 

“Have you felt the weight of your transgressions, the consequences of your actions that have wrought suffering upon your people and brought ruin to your empire?”

Her voice echoed through the realm with the divine judgment that weighed upon your conscience, while her gaze penetrated to the core of your being and demanded honesty and accountability in the face of your past misdeeds.

“Will you atone for your sins?” 

“Will you seize this opportunity for redemption, or will you squander it in self-pity and remorse?”

As you stood in the presence of the ancient goddess, grappling with the heaviness of your sins and the daunting task ahead, a brilliant light had all of a sudden illuminated the space around you. From the heart of this radiant glow emerged the figure of Archangel Raphael, his presence heralded by a chorus of angelical voices and the stirring of celestial winds.

Clad in robes that seemed to shimmer with the intensity of celestial light, Archangel Raphael's presence commanded attention, his wings unfurled behind him in a display of resolute authority. If Goddess Fortuna was intimidating, the archangel was fearsome all the more. His gaze, intense and penetrating, swept over you with a gravity that left no room for evasion or deceit.

“Empress of Caelum,” he spoke, his tone firm and unyielding, and his voice carrying a billion years of heavenly existence, “You stand accused of grievous sins, crimes that have shaken the very foundations of your empire and brought suffering upon your people.”

There was no trace of softness in Archangel Raphael's demeanor, no room for mercy in the face of wrongdoing. His presence was a testament to the uncompromising nature of divine justice, his strictness a reflection of the solemn duty entrusted to him as an Archangel of the Almighty. This, no doubt, was the face of a true and formidable executor of justice.

And you, the subject, had angered the divine beings that guarded the Caelan Empire, so much so that God himself sent the goddess of the land and one of his archangels to mitigate your rightful punishment.

“By the decree of the Almighty, you are granted a second chance to amend your sins and redeem your soul. You shall return to the mortal realm, to live your life anew and correct the sins that have stained your soul.”

“Should you fail to rectify your past transgressions, should you stray from the path of righteousness and succumb once more to the temptations of darkness, know that the consequences shall be severe and eternal.”

“For those who squander the gift of divine mercy shall be cast into the deepest depths of hell, where they shall endure a punishment of unending torment and suffering.”

In the presence of Archangel Raphael and Goddess Fortuna’s equally stern gazes, you were keenly aware of the magnitude of your transgressions and the severity of the judgment that awaited you. But even as you trembled beneath the weight of their scrutiny, you knew that their presence also offered you the opportunity for redemption, with your only task to prove yourself worthy of divine mercy.

Indeed, it was by your very hands that hundreds and thousands of Christian souls shed their blood. Innocent lives, both young and old, were cruelly taken at your command. The citizens of Caelum who fell sick from the spread of the plague. The esteemed Caelan advisors of your husband’s primogenitors, skinned alive and speared in pikes by the Tiber River. The wrongly accused maid who suffered the indignity of serving your husband, paraded unclothed through the streets and subjected to the brutality of the pear of anguish. The gallant and dignified knight, tortured mentally and physically in the atrocious dungeon. Now, you find yourself thrust back into the horrors of your former life ten years hence. A life of a noble lady who ought not to be blinded by her destructive love for the empire’s crown prince. 

Yet, could you truly navigate this life without ascending to the position as his empress?

As you tried to commune with the divine beings afore you, a haze in your vision transported you away from the heavenly space, realizing that you were already drawn back into the reality of your chamber, inhabiting the youthful frame of a twenty-year-old daughter of a duke. You found yourself too astonished to move, too shaken to speak, and too afraid to take any action in this new lease of life blessed upon you. At that very moment, your state of reverie was disrupted at the arrival of your maid, who entered your chamber in a humble servant garb.

Milena. The maid whose life was cut short by your hand in your past existence due to petty thievery. “My lady,” she spoke with a hint of respect and urgency, unaware of the ill-fate you had given her in your past life, “A visitor has arrived at the gates and requests an audience with you. Shall I show them in?” 

Too soon? Need it truly be so soon to engage with the people from your past life immediately after awakening to your old, yet younger body? Gazing upon your maid through the mirror, you asked, “Who is that intruder you speak of?” 

She bowed her head, her stance shifting into one of apologetic deference. The way she firmly stood by your door was a message to you that the intruder was not someone you could easily reject the presence of.

“The visitor is His Highness, Crown Prince Satoru.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

[inhibitcomic]

That's the end of the chapter........... AND THE END OF BOOK TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Inhibit is going to be TEN years old in January, which is a frankly disgusting amount of time to work on one project. Some of you have been here since the very beginning and some of you have just recently started reading but however long you've been along for the ride, thank you!! I love getting to make this story for you.

I have a whole bunch of stuff I want to talk about so bear with me:

Inhibit is going to go on hiatus until 2025! I have really overworked myself these last few years (did you know I am also an event organiser and publisher???) and I'm also um GETTING MARRIED so I need to give myself some breathing room. I'm not sure when exactly in 2025 but I can guarantee it will return. I'm fucking crazy, I'm finishing this comic.

But fear not, because we still have some guest art to come before the hiatus kicks off! Starting next week there'll be some wonderful guest pieces in place of updates so check back in to see that.

My partner and I are releasing a new fully finished graphic novel on Kickstarter next month, alongside its release as an ongoing webcomic! It's called Ruin of the House of the Divine Visage and you can follow along RIGHT HERE!!!!!!! LAUNCHING VERY SOON!!!!! Follow my social media (all the links are in the sidebar on the right) if you want to find out when it launches, or bookmark the site and check back in a couple months.

Next week a second Panel Redraw Contest will launch! The first one ran way back in 2019 but with the release of Book Two (availableinprintrighthere) I thought it was time for a second round. You'll be able to see all the rules over on the Webtoon mirror!

I have decided to stop posting on Patreon and use it solely as a monthly tip jar. Updating the Patreon is just another thing on top of my already overwhelming to do list and I have already been steadily decreasing how much work I'm actually posting there over the years, which isn't fair to supporters. However I don't get paid to make Inhibit and the only money I make from it is from donations through Patreon/Ko-fi and sales of my books so if you've enjoyed Inhibit then a couple of quid in the donation jar is always appreciated!

[softgrungeprophet]

my backer copy of Ruin of the House of the Divine Visage arrived! Very fun

[evegwood]

I'm back at Thought Bubble this year at the Quindrie Press table, Bubbleboy C11! I'll have copies of Inhibit as well as VERY limited copies of me and @spiremint's new graphic novel RUIN OF THE HOUSE OF THE DIVINE VISAGE!!

We're going to be at Thought Bubble next weekend, along with a whole host of creators we've worked with! Come along to Bubbleboy C11 to browse our selection of amazing work, including the brand new THE SECOND SAFEST MOUNTAIN, and be sure to stop by the other Quindrie creator tables.

Bubbleboy Hall: @chrislaumanson C5 @toadlett C10 Quindrie Press & @evegwood C11 @elljwalker & @pppondi C13 @juliecampbell C15

Redshirt Hall @devereauxs-doodles E16 @kroovv B13 @bethfuller B5

[sticksandsharks]

Sacred Bodies & Divine Faces

SACRED BODIES is part of a joint mini-exhibition in La Belle Adventure (Leith Walk, Edinburgh) for the duration of Feb 26th - March 23rd!

The exhibition is ran in tandem with the comic RUIN OF THE HOUSE OF THE DIVINE VISAGE by Eve & Spire Greenwood ( @evegwood & @spiremint ).

The exhibition features concept art, processes and commentary on our featured works.

On the 15th of March (Saturday), I will have a talk & book signing in the shop from 4 - 6 PM!

[spiremint]

RUIN IS DONE AND YOU CAN READ IT ALL RIGHT NOW!!

In a monastery where revealing one's face is an affront to the god housed inside its very chambers, what happens when one young man accidentally sees the face of another?

Ruin of the House of the Divine Visage is the graphic novel I'm printing with my partner Eve Greenwood. If you like repressed gays living in a monastery, then this comic is for you! 130 pages of blooming love under god's oppressive gaze await.

Download the whole thing from my patreon! This is the only place to read the whole comic until it goes to print later this year.

👁👁👁 EDIT AUGUST 14, 2024: 👁👁👁

THE KICKSTARTER HAS ARRIVED!

And in fact, we've already passed 50% which is just crazy!

Please check out the Kickstarter to see the beautiful sample copy of the hardback book and the extra goodies that come along with it.

[lacklusterhero747]

Building a Fabula World, Part 4

Enigmas and Mysteries In our next step the book asks, "What are the great enigmas and mysteries of the world? The questions left unanswered, and the truths that are now indistinguishable from legend?" Each person at the table is then asked to provide at least one mystery that they would like to explore during the campaign, or think would make the world more vibrant and interesting.

Marring the face of the desert of The Zlota Sovereignty is a thick swath of burning ground, a quarter of a mile across and burning a sickly greenish-gold. It's been burning for time immemorial. The sand near the burning has been turned to a greenish glass, but has melted so far down and is so tough it can't be mined. The black, oily goop that burns doesn't seem to have burned down at all, as though it's being replenished from the depths. No one knows when or how the burning began, or what the burning substance is, it's just always been and always will be.

Where do the divines come from? The Golden Path say they coalesced from the faith of the members at the time of the first prophet, but others theorize that they're something else. Perhaps even abominations forged by remnants from the war against the heavens. Who knows the truth? Only the highest members of the order…

About 75 years ago, a new form of tree seemingly sprung spontaneously into existence: the Meatloaf tree. It is a tree that, no matter how much you protest, grows fruits that are in fact literal meatloaves. They're pretty delicious, not gonna lie, but no one knows why the fuck this is happening.

Somewhere on the outskirts of The Alumen Dominion, there is an old, deserted mansion that is said to appear and disappear at random times and in random places within a rough geographical region. The house seems ancient and decadent, despite its disrepair, and anyone who enters the house never returns. No one has managed to investigate the phenomena directly, because the house seems to be resistant to being observed with any scholarly intent to discern its true purpose.

Somewhere, in a relatively unpopulated part of the wilderness, there is a cliff face that will periodically shift and change to look like the visage of some random person or creature. Sometimes it depicts a famous person, other times a relative nobody. Sometimes it even depicts species of animal that either no longer exist or never existed, and no one is sure why.

It is said that at the elemental center of the world, where the pulse of the world tree converges, there is a mystical valley, in which the font from which all magic as mortals know it flows. It is said to be guarded by the fey, but it is unknown if the fey are truly the font's guardians, or if the font simply produces as result of the outpouring of magical energy.

The world's second, smaller moon, depicts what appears to be the face of some creature on its dusty red surface. Some scholars who have studied the Precursors ruins claim that the world did not always have two moons, making its origins a mystery just as much as why it seems like the face on the moon is always watching.

How is the leader of The First Names--an extremist, ecoterrorist styled faction within The Folk--capable of seeming to constantly escape death, returning over and over again each time he is captured or vanquished.

More than anywhere else, I feel like this is where some of the particular brand of weirdness that has been cultivated within in our group really shone through.

A burning chasm of unknown origin, with an equal unknown fuel source (a reference to a game that particular player and I played in YEARS ago); a companion moon that seems to observe the world counterposed by an ever shifting cliff face that depicts unusual images; even a seemingly immortal leader of an extremist faction and some sort of haunted house that flickers in and out of reality.

And then, of course, there's a meatloaf tree. Honestly it just felt like we ought to let it ride, given how dark the rest of the campaign document had really become. A stupid inside joke just felt like a soothing balm.

Again though, plot hooks certainly abound. Stand out ideas like this world's particular vision of the Fey, and what they mean in the greater context of the setting, or the true nature of the Sovereignty's divines have really pushed my thoughts on what the plot might be in particular directions, but all of this has uses to be sure. Points of interest becoming nodes on a line that I intend to weave through the world.

All that's left now are the Threats.

[spiremint]

we funded eariler today while i was at work thank you SO much 😭😭😭

WE'RE FUNDED!! THANK YOU!! THIS COMIC IS GETTING PRINTED!!!

we are hooting and hollering, thank you SO much for all the love for this project. we can't wait to make this the most gorgeous book we possibly can!!

In a monastery where revealing one's face is an affront to the god housed inside its very chambers, what happens when one young man accidentally sees the face of another?

RUIN is the brand new collaborative graphic novel from @evegwood and @spiremint, a 130-page comic about religion and queer romance. Buy the completed graphic novel on Kickstarter!

RUIN is also being posted as a webcomic that you can read for FREE at visagecomic.com! Follow @thunderstormstudios to get new page updates every Tuesday!

[seancekitsch]

Venus

A/N: warning for alc mentions, unprotected sex, some kinky slapping dom/sub stuff, my normal freak ass shit

-

Loving Klaus was easy, you found. Easy to have it open and known and free than to feel yourself wrestling with the feelings the way you had been a month prior. A month of ‘I love you’ and a month of really feeling like the two of you were a proper couple, at the very least like the two of you were real people. His siblings noticed it too, the shift. Like you were finally one of them, and it felt nice to belong. You really hadn’t ever felt that way before, not without drugs, and that was only belonging through wanting to get something out of someone else and not just the people themselves. Last week the holidays had come and gone, and you were honestly surprised his family had included you in the celebrations, despite the fact that you and Klaus had thrown them all a birthday party two months prior. Their holiday traditions were weird, donuts and eighties music and bickering, but it was nice. The week spanned on and turned to the final night, new years, finally the family happy to be seeing a year that isn’t some fucked up version of 2019 (one that Klaus has told you over and over his brother Ben was alive and absolutely cruel and you were married to your ex and clearly using) and finally ready to move on from it all. This timeline wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but it was the one you both had together and it was the one his family fixed. Tonight was for celebrating, for dancing and drinking and forgetting your worries. It's fun, but it's only a matter of time before Klaus takes you home or to a forgotten spare room. Allison opens up her house in the city to her family and their guests. The night starts with dinner, which is a big potluck of foods that don't go together but all of the Hargreeves favorite foods. You can tell exactly who brought what, and no one is surprised by the insane amount of take out you and Klaus brought. There's cocktails which are actually made with care instead of mixed up sloppily like a child making potions out of shampoo in the tub. 

It's around 11:25 when Klaus pulls you down the hall towards the guest room, shouting, “I am but a weary traveler! My Panacea and I need a respite before we keep entertaining you all!” which was met with rolling eyes and a few flinches at the abruptness of it all, but a steady fondness as the backdrop of it all.

Klaus drops to his knee the second the door is locked, and grabs your leg to hike it up. Your back comes to rest against the wall, jamming coats out of your way to get comfortable as he presses his plump lips to the shiny toe of your boot. His breath fans out, almost fogging the shiny fake leather of your boot before he starts kissing. He presses kisses from the tip of your toe up to where the arch of the side of your foot would be, then licks the rest of the way up to the ankle, moaning as he does so. A prayer, a promise, his devotion on display. This is Klaus wanting to be used, wanting to be objectified and made yours.

“I’m going to get famous again, baby.” He kisses the toe of your boot one more time before moving up and resting your foot on his bended knee. He pushes your skirt up, all the way to where your thigh meets your hip, and his hands are all over your leg as he speaks.

“Prophets gonna rise from the ashes, and this time I’m gonna build it all in your image,” his teeth rake the sheer tights at your calf, ripping at least one hole in them. They were new. “The whole worlds gonna worship you just like I do, fraulein.”

You’re halfway between a chuckle and a moan as one of his thumbs slides up into the back of your knee and the other presses a harsh circle to your inner thigh, right below where the panties of your lingerie begins, if you could even call them panties. They were a mess of mesh and lace that you saw in the mall and you just had to get them and their matching bra, even if now they seem a little gaudy. Klaus likes them, though, and got excited when you got dressed for tonight when he saw them laid out on the bed. He wanted to tear them off of you the moment he saw them, and he would do just that. His hand snakes its way up over your clothed cunt, making you groan at the contact, before he reaches the waistband of your tights and yanks them down  with your panties as far as he can, pulling them to where your boots prevent them from coming off, essentially giving Klaus control of how much you can move during this tryst. Its now that he puts your leg down, letting you stand up straight again in front of his bent figure.

“Hit me,” he begs. Klaus’ eyes are blown wide with lust, even in the dark.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Hit me, slap me across the face,” he begs again, “Make me hurt, tell me ‘Klaus I want you to bleed for me’ I’ll do it.”

He gets this way sometimes. Arousal floods your system in the same vein as concern. If Klaus wants to be hurt, he’s usually already hurting. 

“No, Klaus we don’t have time, let's talk about it,” You say, already sinking down onto your knees to join him, to cradle his face in your hands and to make him feel better.

“Doc, Doc there’s nothing wrong. I need relief. It's like, like a cure.Yeah. I’m hard as a rock, love, I need relief.”

Purely kinky. Consensual. If it's what Klaus wants, who are you to deny him of it? You rise up onto your feet again, preparing yourself to hit him. To Klaus, even in the darkness, he can make out that you look like something otherworldly, bigger and greater than human. You wind back, apprehensive but willing to do anything for him, something he recognizes not casually. As your open palm makes contact with his left cheek, a shuddering moan makes its way up from deep inside his stomach, out through his throat and past his lips orgasmic in execution. 

“Again, please.”

And you indulge him twice more, until you're sure the hot skin on his face is reddened. There's a certain kind of thrill in knowing that your hands will leave a mark on him, that he’ll enter a new decade with your hands printed on his visage. Those three slaps are good enough to sate him for now, as he rises back to his feet, pressing his lips to yours as his hands go straight to your hair, any semblance of style you had put to it would be out the window in seconds. He backs you against the door until you hit it, then you both start to slide to the floor. He guides you down gently, taking extra care to remember the tights holding your ankles hostage, and lays you down against the hardwood, the warmth of his old faux fur trim jacket like a blanket to cushion you as he pushes your skirt back up to your waist.

He bends you in half, pulling your legs up to meet your chest; your boots clanking together on his shoulder as he pushes into you, immediately filling you to the hilt. This angle is nothing short of divine for you both, your legs pressed together making you feel just that much tighter wrapped around Klaus’ cock, and the angle leaving you mercilessly open to his thrusting.

“This is the tightest, wettest little cunt I've ever had the pleasure of serving,” Klaus whispers as he pulls out and slams back into you before setting his pace.

 He's fast, working against the clock, and against every nerve ending in your body. You don't try to stifle the moans as his thrusts rock your entire body along the floor. He fucks like a man with a gun to his head, hitting you deep each time, a staccato of his name falling from your lips as he pants and growls in your ear. You feel your orgasm coming before you can warn him, and the spasming of your body surprises you both earth shattering, convulsing waves of pleasure hit you, and all you can do is cling to each other as it ruins you. The spasming of your muscles triggers him as well, and you can feel every drop of hot white cum that he shoots into you, filling you deep.

He kisses you, muttering little ‘I love you’s as he pulls out, gently pulling your thighs off his shoulder and pulling your panties up; rolling your ripped tights up with the utmost care and dedication before you reach for him again to help you stand, shaky knees and dizzy from his affections. Love drunk as well as martini drunk, ready to face midnight.

“Klaus, Klaus I need to find a restroom before we go back out there. I need to clean myself up.” You can already feel his sticky white dripping out of you, no doubt making an irreversible mess of those panties he liked so much. It would be uncomfortable to sit, to move unless you got to the bathroom and got yourself fixed up. Klaus whips back around to look at you as his hand grasps the doorknob.

“Don’t you dare, you venus in furs, let it be a reminder of what's going to happen when we get home.” there's pure evil in his tone and in his smile, “Plus, you'll miss midnight if you run off on me.”

He pulls the door open and leads you back out into the festivities.

[abarbaricyalp]

@sambuckylibrary

SamBucky Halloween Prompt 8: Horns/Wings/Claws/Glowing Eyes (I went four for four)

Just an angel and a demon blending in

Rated M: I feel it gets a little spicy and intense so just an excerpt this time (AO3 link in the notes)

Keep Thee In All Thy Ways

Bucky was just about thrumming out of his skin. Not entirely figuratively.

Sam, beside him, was much more composed. But there was a ready grin on his mouth that he usually kept a little more hidden. All the promises in that grin were not helping Bucky keep himself contained. They sought these events out like a challenge, chances to be their true selves without attracting too much attention. Or, at least, the bad kind of attention. Krampus celebrations and monster conventions and horror movie events all kept them sated throughout the year, but Halloween and haunted houses were easiest. And parties like these were Bucky’s favorite.

“Can we?” he asked, looking up at Sam with clear blue eyes. Early snow had started to filter down around them and melted instantly on their skin. The party below continued to rage. There were so many moving bodies and fires that Bucky wasn’t sure they’d even noticed the flurries yet.

Sam nodded his permission and Bucky stepped back. He rolled his shoulders back in his perfect coat and brought his hands up to smooth his hair from his face before relaxing enough to reveal the large, curling horns over his head. They always came out first, the hardest thing about himself to hide. He shook the humanness from his arms until the one turned into a gnarled hook of a hand and the other grew claws straight from the skin. By the time he looked up at Sam, his teeth had sharpened and his eyes had gone black. Natural. Easy "Too much?" he asked.

It was a moot point. As always, Sam was more impressive, with his dour massive bloodied wings and dozens of white glowing eyes. Some hung in the air around him, some traveled the length of his cheeks and neck. When he unbuttoned his shirt, several more blinked from his shoulders. The extra arms, dripping molten gold, antler and bone protruding through dark skin, were always a favorite that Bucky somehow forgot about year to year. Above everything, a gold and blood halo curved from Sam’s temples to the air over his head, almost taller than his wings.

“Come on, take off your pants,” Bucky goaded as his hands fell to his own sharp pressed slacks. A smooth, dense black fur pelt ran over thick thighs and narrow shins to fiery hooves. It was always the same for him. Sam could choose any animal he wanted.

“I thought we could match today,” the angel said and kicked his pants aside. His fur was much thicker and fluffier, curled the same way the hair on his head did but several shades lighter. His feet were not on fire, but each step left gold and ash in its wake anyway. Bucky reached over to smooth his hand down the side of Sam’s thigh and Sam shuddered against him.

“I forget how hot you are like this,” he said, and used a lower hand to drag Bucky’s palm over his side to rest low on his belly, against the first thatch of hair leading to his legs. Bucky scratched his fingers through the thick fur to the skin below. Sam’s upper hands pulled Bucky into a rough kiss, all ancient bone and brimstone against impossibly soft mouths. After millennia of existence, Sam still managed to catch his lips on Bucky’s teeth and bleed into his mouth. Bucky figured it must’ve been some declaration of love at this point.

“Do you have a cute little goat tail?” Bucky asked, dragging his good hand down Sam’s back to his ass.

“We should go before the snow piles up. We’ll be too easy to spot if we’re melting snow banks everywhere we walk.”

Bucky pouted, though it was probably lost in the rest of his visage. Logically, he knew that they only had so much time in their real bodies before something exploded or electricity stopped working or entire towns lost their minds at once. Never mind that staying stuck in a human body for ages on end made Bucky lose his own mind.

As it turned out, those who partook in the glories of plants that tripped them the fuck out on the Earthly plane were remarkably good at not losing their mind around ethereal beings. Halloween parties designed to get people high and then scare the shit out of partiers with gruesomely realistic costumes were exactly the kind of place Sam and Bucky could stop being human for a while longer than normal. It had the added benefit of never having someone be able to seriously claim they saw an angel or a demon, plus it usually converted a few people one way or the other.

These were very good parties.

“No fucking way,” someone laughed at the outskirts of it all. It was darker out here, but that meant nothing when Sam glowed white-hot and golden from head to toe. The partier reached up and waved his hands around the floating eyes. Bucky shoved him back.

“Don’t ruin the illusion, man,” Sam laughed back and tossed one arm over Bucky’s shoulder and the other around his waist. Antler and bone sunk into Bucky’s flesh and set him alight inside. “Took me forever to balance.”

The guy held his hands together in front of his face and bowed a little. “Righteous, man.”

Bucky wanted to tell him he had no fucking idea.

In the midst of the actual party, monsters danced to shitty music and shittier live music played over the stereo. Horrific costumed faces swam in and out of focus as they came together and fell away in the firelight. Smoke was thick and potent from the fires and the partiers alike. As much as Bucky did like the smell of cigarette smoke burning into lungs, the temptation to put his arm in one of the fires was more overwhelming and he let the flames bite and burn into his bad arm.

Sam took a deep breath and leaned more heavily into Bucky’s side. “Fuck, do you remember sacrificial votives?” he breathed, all eyes falling shut.

“I remember everyone who has ever worshipped or prayed to you,” Bucky answered and drew his arm back from the flame.

Sam clicked his tongue and sucked on his teeth. “Don’t act so modest. You always got better flesh offerings than us.” He reached for Bucky’s arm and brought it to his mouth, laving his tongue over the charred skin. It flaked off in his mouth and then healed neatly behind his ministrations.

Bucky grinned, firelight catching on brimstone teeth. “We encouraged it. That’s on you for suggesting animals and money.”

“Money,” Sam scoffed and shot Bucky a baleful look from the crook of his elbow. “When offerings became truly about human sacrifice and not divine gain.”

“Mmm, you know I adore when you get traditional on me,” Bucky purred, tucking himself against Sam’s chest. He took his arm back to run his hands down Sam’s strong abdomen. He wrapped the hooked hand behind Sam’s waist and Sam stepped forward into the embrace. “Let me worship you and put your mind at ease about sacrifice and gain.”

I promise there’s more! Please read the rest on AO3!

[spiremint]

(1 hour) (!!!)

(ruin launches in 4 hours)