#womb black blackening

[thefinalcowboy]

niche market for this post but byzantine hystera amulet with the undertale hidden log entry seventeen text as an inscription

[onlyhurtforaminute]

BYTHOS-BLACK LABYRINTH

[r0-boat]

Defile

Whb!AsmodeusxGn!Reader

Happy Halloween, and enjoy this sinful fanfiction

Cw: Corruption, primal, predator/prey, breeding, mind control, womb tattoo(what's the gender-neutral term for that), Heat, religious play, CNC, Asmodeus yaps a lot, aftercare

You kneel at the end of the sanctuary your hands clasped together As you pray in the dead of night. As the rest of your brothers and sisters at the monastery slumber, You had woken up early dreaming of sin, pools of blood red eyes staring into your very soul as you feel hands grasp and touch you in ways the Lord will not permit.

You had been plagued with sinful thoughts and dreams for a while now. So you pray hoping that someone would answer your prayers, and you'll be free from temptation.

But in the ivory halls of the church, with nothing but the light of the Moon and the candles lit around the altar to keep you company. Little did you know you were not alone. A darkness more sinister stalks closer. The candle sticks that littered the Sanctuary blow out one by one starting from the entrance when the doors creeped open.

You didn't open your eyes And one by one each candle blows out all around you. You did not open your eyes until you smelled the smoke. The only candles that were still lit were the ones around the altar. You thought as though the wind must have blew them out.

Your eyes adjusting to the dark as you squint looking around for an opened window or door that you are not aware of that could have caused the candles to go out. Your eyes peer into the blackened void behind you. You could almost feel at stare back.

That's when you heard it.

"well well well, What do we have here. A little lamb astrayed from its flock?"

It bellowed. Echoing throughout the entire chamber, your heart quickens as you lose your balance from the shock, falling from your knees to your bum. Your eyes widen as they dart throughout the room, But all you could see was the same inky darkness that not even the moonlight could pierce.

"W-who are you?" Your voice cracks the only words you can manage to get out.

The figure finally steps into what little light that could reach into the monastery. Long pitch black hair his naked figure covered by a single white silk robe ironic for what he was. Chains and barbed vines around his arms and legs and his piercing red eyes with a single yet unmistakable curled horn.

There was no mistaken of what he was. Your breath shakes your whole body shakes. Grasping the gold pendant around your neck You scoot away.

The demon chuckles. "Don't be afraid dear human, I promise I'll take good care of you." The way that word rolled off the tongue made you shiver. You didn't want to know what he meant by that.

"You're not supposed to be here!" You call out

"This is a house of God! You are not welcome devil!"

The red-eyed monster grinned, his smile wide and sinister, flashing his fangs. He let out a deep chuckle. "Your God will not protect you." He smiles. You can hear shackles on his arms and legs shake as he stalks closer. That sinister smile seems to grow wider and wider.

"Do you think you're pathetic little prayers will keep the incarnate of Lust away from what he has claimed. Look into my eyes prey you know who I am..."

As the being gets lower to your level, his claws scratch against the marble tiles as he practically crawls toward you. Eyes full of longing and hunger. Getting so dangerously close, you could smell a sweet temptation coming from him.

They warned warned you about him; One of the seven deadly sins.

Asmodeus.

He didn't have to hear you say it because he could see it in your eyes The delicious fear. He could hear every pump of your heart getting faster and faster And of course you reeked of desire. Pretty virgin things like you always made the most delicious of prey.

"I can smell that you crave for me." He growls.

Your heart practically stopped; that sentence alone finally made your feet move, scampering on the ground before taking off. All you hear was a laugh echoing through the halls as you keep running.

You could hear him coming for you his heavy breath the footsteps behind you that sound less and less human and more like a pack of hungry wolves.

You didn't look back; you didn't dare to. You could already hear how close he was and that he was gaining. Your lungs burned as you pushed as hard as you could. You could only reach outside in the courtyard, the moonlight showing his full figure before he tackled you to the ground, his whole body weight bringing you down.

Using his entire strength, Asmodeus forces you to the ground. You are at his mercy as you try desperately to fight him. You swore you felt drool dripping on your skin when he buried his nose into your neck, deeply inhaling your scent.

"perfect, simply perfect. I've been watching you for a while. And now that you're underneath me, You are far better than I ever could have imagined." His breathy voice tickled your ear as you delicately felt his claws and fingers around your neck. Your heart dropped as you felt a bulge in his clothes pressing against your pajamas. You try to squirm out of his grip, anything to get out, but you are trapped, caged in his arms, back pressed against his chest.

"your ass grinds against me, mate; You're so eager for me to claim you as mine." He sneered. His claws were ripping and shredding through your clothes as if they were paper.

Treating you like a mir doll for his amusement. Asmodeus flips you over, holding your arms together with his big hand.

"Yes, let me see you, let me see my new bride." He purrs. His eyes rolling over you like a piece of meat.

Your struggling was cute, It highlighted how much bigger and stronger he was compared to you but he began to grow tired of your useless attempts at freedom. He likes his mates 'willing' after all.

He let out another animalistic purr pressing his tongue against your collarbone looking up your neck as his other hand presses down on your lower stomach.

You felt heat underneath his palm a sweet pleasurable heat burning into your core when he lifts his palm a mark appears and its place.

That warmth from your core begins to spread all over your body. Places where he has touched, bit, licked, or sucked, begin to tingle all the way down to your core.

Asmodeus watches with a pleasant grin as his influence slowly takes over your body. He presses harder against you, his skin against yours. All he was doing was touching you, yet you felt so sensitive—that little warmth beginning to grow hotter and hotter as It became increasingly harder to think. The demon above you begins to explore your body with his hand and his tongue, licking and groping every part he can, feeling up his new favorite toy.

"Good human, become nice and obedient for me. Feel your mind slip away and become mine." His voice seems to echo in your mind; you feel it with your whole body, sending ripples of pleasure throughout.

Asmodeus, lets go of your wrists. Finally, you have a chance to escape, but your body has other plans: staying underneath him, obedient and ready.

Knowing that your body has completely submitted to him, the devil leans backward, unveiling his cock hard and throbbing, his balls swollen. "Come to me, human, come serve your new male. Prepare him for breeding." He moans, His hand squeezing his shaft with one lazy pump before cupping his balls.

His voice echoes in your mind and you obey him without question. The more you resist the deeper you fall.

As your mouth begins to drool at the sight of his dick. You crawl forward on your hands and knees. He watched in delight to your tiny hand wrapping around his demon cock before taking it in your mouth.

His natural musk, sweet yet woody fills your nose All you want to do is bury your face into him and ride him till the sun comes up. Your own drool runs down his shaft using it as lube to pump his cock with your hand while you struggle to take it deeper.

Despite your eagerness to please him, your movements were that of a virgin; he could smell that you were turned on by this, Even if you are under his influence. He plays with his jet-black hair idly, His teeth sinking into his lip. The desire to corrupt you with his demonic seed grows with every bob of your empty little head.

With a wave of his finger for you to stop, you obey like an obedient dog in heat; His cock is coated with your saliva, and your mouth drools from the taste of his pretty cock in your mouth. Asmodeus smirked as he crawled back on top of you with one hand. He parts your your thighs, preparing to sink inside you.

"I've had enough waiting, I'm going to breed you like the sow you are." Asmodeus growled

You arched your back as his cock filled you up just right. Putting your legs over his shoulders as he pressed his entire body weight down onto you. He didn't wait for a moment because if he did, you would be screaming and begging him to move.

With every slam of his hips the symbol on your core begin to glow brighter and brighter.

At that moment, your mind was not yours. It belonged to the man claiming you, but you could still feel it begin to change and warp with every thrust. His cock hits the deepest parts of you, and he snarls, feeling you clench.

"I know you're close. Cum as I fill you with seed and marry you in Unholy Matrimony right outside the very place you kneel and worship Your Lord!" He pants, a crazed look in his eye as he chases his orgasm. He's close, So close, ready to flood your insides and mark you as his. He could feel you tighten around his throbbing cock; you were close, there was no need in try to fight it. He's going to shatter your pitiful attempt at rebellion and rip the orgasm out of you.

Asmodeus let out an animalistic growl, drilling down into you harder and harder. If it wasn't for his voice ringing into your head, all you could hear was the slapping of his hips and his balls against your ass. "I will bind you to me, and you will worship me like your new God! Cum on my cock whore!"

It was a command, ending it with sinking his teeth right into your neck. Your eyes rolled back clenching and exploding all over him. Asmodeus letting out a maniac laugh before slammed with one final thrust deep inside you to steal his hips. He made sure to lift your lower body just right so he was reaching as deep as he could before filling your deepest parts with his virile seed. Your cunt milks him as you cum like it's the first time you came in your entire life milking his cock as you feel every spurt of seed as he drains his balls inside you.

Even as you stopped even after he stopped he still pressed inside you. Making sure every drop stays deep.

The two of you back in the afterglow before you feel as modius wrap his arms around you He nuzzles into your neck peppering it with kisses.

"beloved, My dearly beloved."

He groaned still deep inside you You can still feel how hard he was.

"I still want more... I want more of you." He whined overdramatically, grinding his still-stiff shaft against you.

As much as he wanted to have more of you, as much as he wanted to drill you into the dirt till the two of you were spent and on the verge of passing out, He knew that you probably had had enough. You were merely human, after all. Deliciously and lovingly human.

You felt his tongue drag across your neck again this time affectionately you giggle and push him away "All right get away from me stinky. We can't stay here for long." He lets out a groan despite him being much stronger than you he plays along moving his body giving you a little more space. Only a little.

"Satan doesn't have to know what we use this place for."

Asmodeus purred playing with your hair as he stayed glued to your body like a clingy lover. He cared little for the names you gave him It was a nickname from you and he would accept any.

"I highly doubt he wouldn't know after how loud we were."

He just let out a goofy chuckle. Guilty was charged He wasn't exactly the quietest either.

"Will you stay with me tonight? I promise we can bathe together."

It was a tempting offer. He was desperate to have you in his arms for a little while longer Even if that means doing the one thing he hated. But your answer is still the same, knowing that one night with him will never just be one night...

"You know my answer."

You heard the pout in his voice "Mmh Okay... But at least let me bring you back to your bedroom. I'd like to tuck you."

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 15 "Herr God, Beware"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: Thank you so much for your comments on the last chapter in particular. It was my favorite out of the entire fic 🥺🥺 And now, just some smut before we enter the finale (3 more chapters) 🥹

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Feyd-Rautha's strong hand clutches the wrist of his giggling, ticking time bomb as he herds her down the hollow hallway, back to her own chambers. Blackened water still dribbles down the thick curve of his pale calves and his feet leave wet imprints on the tiles. A black bathrobe clings damply to his shoulders, fabric curling around the salacious shape of his muscles.

Lilia quickly vacates her Lady's quarters and closes the door, Glugo at her hand, when the half undressed na-Baron and his beloved rush past her into the bedroom in a hurry.

His darling had wanted to have him right there in his tub. He had to stop her, rising out of the diluted healing concoction dripping wet. For their first time as proper betrotheds, he doesn't want to be submerged in claustrophobic bath water. He has a special place in mind, one that has her eyes growing round when she realizes that Feyd-Rautha does not intend to fuck her on the bed.

"Feyd! It's meant for cryo sleep, not for—"

"Open the lid, my darling, please."

Desire claws at his belly and a near perverse delight floods him when his fiancée obeys. Her pupils give a telltale flicker to the side and the top of the Sarcophagus swings open by her invisible command.

"What are you doing?" She giggles, her voice still high-pitched from the afternoon's victory.

Feyd-Rautha lets the bath robe drop to the floor and her eyes fall from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and the muscles of his glutes that flex beneath his fair skin when he raises one long leg and climbs into the man-shaped mold that had sheltered his darling during her long journey between the stars.

"I want you to have me in here."

His semi-hard cock falls against his navel as he sinks down. The gel padding of the mold is surprisingly soft, cool to the touch but quickly warming up to his damp skin. The surrounding walls are lined with tubes like blood vessels and the chamber hugs him like he was transferred back into the womb.

"It's designed for one person," she scolds, but her hands are already at her waist, sliding under the hem of her trousers.

"And your trousers are designed for men, yet you are wearing them." Feyd-Rautha lets one corded arm dangle out of the sarcophagus, beckoning his betrothed closer with a curl of his hand. "Come here," he purrs. "Sit in my lap."

"You dare lecture me on my clothing when I've just discovered—?" Her trousers and boots are kicked to the floor with ferocity and when she climbs into the mold to him, Feyd's cock swells to full hardness without even a touch. His woman's eyes flash with the kind of indignance that he had hoped to spark.

His pelvis leaves just enough space on each side of the chamber for her to slot her folded legs, though it is a tight fit. Feyd-Rautha's hard flanks warm her knees and she frees her torso from the cover of her tunic with a swift curl of her arms that has her chest popping out and her breasts lifting as she stretches her arms high. The garment tumbles to the floor and Feyd-Rautha's hands are immediately at her hips and belly.

When she meets his gaze and lets the apex of her thighs sink down on his pelvis, feeling the soft squishiness of his balls against her cunt, she realizes the true nature of Feyd's provocation. While her eyes are glaring with fire, his are glossy and wanton like the deep-blue oceans of her old home.

The hand with which she intends to aim the gun at the Baron slides over Feyd-Rautha's warm chest, where his heart beats, and he makes no move to overpower her or coax her into action, just holding her expectantly to his straining manhood. She lowers her voice, wild giggles replaced by a sultriness that comes from the overflowing well of her earlier victory. 

"Is that what you desire right now?" She coos, eyes gliding proudly over the hard, masculine body that lies so docile beneath her. He has been vulnerable with her before, when he needed her touch to keep himself from drowning, but never like this. Not with his pretty mouth open and his blue eyes rendered so dark with lust, like he's going to come apart willingly at a fleeting touch of her hand.

His submission is not an escape tonight, it is triumphant.

Feyd-Rautha nods and his tongue darts out briefly to wet his pink bottom lip. She eclipses the light of the golden glow globe and he readily cranes his head for her trailing hand, moaning when her fingers encircle his throat. The thick tendons that stretch from base to jaw strain against her palms, yielding under pressure, because despite how hard he looks, Feyd-Rautha is made of soft flesh, like anyone else.

As he gazes up admiringly, he briefly wonders how old his betrothed actually is. He's never asked her, but she glances down at him with a wisdom and confidence that melt his bones. Willingly, his knees fall apart against the walls of the man-sized cavern.

She's going to make it alright. She's going to cure his rot.

"Can you ask me again?" He demands pleadingly, his voice a low rasp that vibrates against the palm of her hand.

"Ask you what?" Her thumb brushes over the sharp tip of his Adam's Apple. It is cute, the way it jumps away from her touch, like a frightened animal.

"To be your husband."

"But you already said yes," she purrs and makes sure that he feels the weight of her against his pelvis. With the way she's seated on him, her clit comes to rub against his smooth pubic mound as she leans forward a little.

"But I want to say it again," Feyd-Rautha confesses. A part of him yearns for her to ask him again every new day, so he knows she hasn't changed her mind.

"How about you ask me now?" At that, her betrothed's strong fingers twitch around the soft flesh of her hips.

"Will you be my wife, my darling? Will you honor and serve me til death do us part?" His pupils fill out the blue pools of his irises with comical dilation and a heavy inhale raises his chest a bit closer to her breasts.

"Is that how Harkonnens ask for the hand of their Lady?"

"You need to say yes," Feyd-Rautha snarls with a pleading darkness gathering behind his eyes.

"I will, if you ask me right." Her cheeks are rounded in a coy grin, infuriatingly disregarding the distress that pounds against Feyd's ribs. His hold on her tightens and so does hers around his pale throat. At the possessive touch of him, her cunt provides moisture that flows across Feyd-Rautha's sac.

"Will you be my wife and let me honor and serve you til death do us part?"

She laughs brightly and the flexing of her muscles brings the cradle of her thighs against his pelvis in an involuntary jerk. When her betrothed moans, she repeats the same motion, this time deliberately, and leans down to his face, nestling it within her palms.

"I was thinking more of loving and caring for each other til death do us part, but I suppose honoring and serving works too, as long as we both do it."

"And does that mean yes?"

"Of course it does, silly boy. Yes, I will be your wife. And my wedding gift to you will be death."

He shudders obscenely at the power that lies at their fingertips. The power to not only put an end to his tormentor's regime, but to throw the universe into a new dark age — The universe that had always looked away from his suffering, endorsed it.

"Would you say this is a worthy gift, my love?" His woman purrs lovingly and slowly grinds her sweet, wet cunt against the base of his cock. 

Feyd-Rautha nods, moaning quietly. His hands just lightly aid the rolling of her pelvis that has his cock jump longingly against her abdomen, plump head almost nudging her navel. She feels the velvety hardness of him against her belly and arches her spine to meet the next twitch of his aching length.

"Then so be it."

One hand abandons his neck and embarks on a journey down the length of his smooth, tapered torso.

Feyd is the perfect harmony of strong and vulnerable. Thick muscles wrapped around his chest and shoulders, his thighs powerful and hard, his wiry forearms entwisted by prominent veins that stretch all the way down to his hands, knuckles still dusted in the purple remnants of bruises from the afternoon brawl. 

Yet, there is a graceful felinity to his long limbs and slender core and the way he carries himself, every muscle in a perfect equilibrium of poise. The skin she skims is made soft by lotions and oils, the perfectly delicate cover for the hard swells of his abdominal muscles that flex deliciously in the wake of her fleeting fingertips.

"Woman~" he moans low and sweetly and her gaze falls on the absurd dip of his cupid's bow and the plump curve that defines his bottom lip.

"Yes?" Her fingertips gently dance around his twitching length, indulging his abdomen in ticklish caress while avoiding the place where he aches all over.

"Please." Feyd's pelvis rolls up against her cunt, bare feet seeking purchase against the odd, cushioned floor of the sarcophagus.

To Feyd-Rautha, tonight is a night of self-indulgent weakness. He has grown long tired of living behind the guards of violent defense that he has erected around himself, sick of the impotent fear and rage his uncle has cultivated in his misshapen boy heart.

Perhaps Feyd would have been able to kill the Baron without her. But an animal may not be able to free itself from its cage, even when the key in the lock is turned. It may just need someone to push the handle and open the gate.

His darling may be diabolical for the knowledge she has unlocked with the aid of the machine that calmly hums beneath his back, but she is not diabolical to him. One sweet plea from his lips has her lifting her pelvis and his cock readily jumps against the folds of her cunt.

Another day, his hand would have been around the thick base of his cock to angle himself into her entrance, but tonight he waits for her smaller hand to guide him. The briefest of touch has his mouth open and his neck strained in anticipation, and then the wet heat of her meets his weeping slit.

"Oof~" A little sound escapes her lungs when the blunt tip of him spears her open wide, generously slick but otherwise unprepared. She holds herself there, fingers twisted into the skin of his tensing stomach. Feyd-Rautha waits with agonizing patience as the head of his cock is veritably crushed by her tight walls.

He is so absurdly sensitive, the impossibly slow descent of her pelvis has him hissing through his teeth.

"God, what did they, agh, feed you to make you grow to this size?"

Feyd-Rautha lets out a burst of boyish laughter, then curses to the Sun in Harkunnin  before he can tell her that, if not genetics, it could have only been the extraordinarily carnivorous diet he had enjoyed as a boy. She raises herself and the slow glide of her cunt massages the aching inches of his cock.

His voice grows guttural and deliciously pathetic as she establishes a slow, rolling pace, aided only gently by the push and pull of his hands. He feels truly cocooned in the way her walls wrap around his cock and her soft hands on his chest press him down into the cushioned gel pads.

The moisture from the bath has long dried on his skin and what dampens it now is a warm flush of arousal. Blue eyes are glued to the movement of her flesh, trailing over her tummy and breasts before meeting the calm, simmering confidence in her eyes. Her torso folds itself halfway over his chest, one hand propped against the gel cushion next to his head, the other cupping his flexing jaws.

"My baby just needs someone to take care of him, isn't that right?"

Feyd-Rautha's brows twitch briefly at the unfamiliar moniker, but its meaning is clear and his pelvis shudders against his will. A deep, sweet desire blossoms at the base of his spine, waiting to be spilled.

"My baby boy has been so lonely all his life, but I'm here now. I'm taking care of you."

He wants to be something for someone, something of value, something precious, something coveted and even vulnerable. For once in his life, someone is standing up for him and Feyd falls head first into the white-hot ignition of love that pulses at his core and reaches so quickly into his balls and the root of his cock.

"Yeeesss," he moans, brows scrunching together tightly. The steady rocking of his beloved's hips milks him dry of his cum and his lungs wheeze in breathless huffs. Tears prick at his eyes below closed lids.

"My darling," she sighs, her voice a shiver that flows across his face along with her hot breath, so close, so sweet.

"More," he demands even though his empty cock begins to burn from the deep rhythm that fills her out from entrance to navel. Feyd-Rautha's strong fingers cling needily to her hips and she grins upon his request, straightening herself. A bead of sweat dribbles down between her breasts.

"Then be good and help me, yes?"

His thumb is on her bundle of nerves before she can even finish her sentence, blue eyes wickedly gleaming with determination. It is the least he can do to reward her for being an angel sent to him across space and time. 

Her pelvis rolls back and forth, meeting the perfectly placed pressure of the pad of his thumb. Even with him half flaccid, she still feels deliciously full, and the gravelly moans she pulls from his throat sinfully aid the approach of her climax, a tightening pressure against the base of her spine that seems to be pulling every muscle inwards to her core.

In their wake, they make a mess all over his lap and balls, inky seed marking them both in sticky trails.

Where another man might struggle, Feyd-Rautha has little trouble growing hard again from having his future wife around his overstimulated cock. The pleasure-pain of it makes him sink his teeth into his plush bottom lip and his fingers into her waist, taking back a smidge of control. His shaft twitches against her tender walls.

"Just like thi-is, ahh, Feyd—!" Her toes curl against the outsides of his thighs.

"Almost there, sweetling," he promises, positioning his soles safely against the cushioned ground and then pistons up into her cunt. The force and stamina behind his thrusts is effortless, splitting her poise. Her torso falls against his, breasts flattened against the hard planes of his chest, lips finding his.

Feyd-Rautha drinks up his to-be wife's needy whines like wine from a chalice, wraps one strong arm around her middle while his thumb remains on her swollen, little clit. His cock does the rest, rhythm powered by his thick thighs, he slams himself into her slick cunt.

Moments away from climax, her tongue squirms against his and her pelvis tries to escape from his hold, the first tendrils of white-hot pleasure so overwhelming that her first reaction is flight. But Feyd-Rautha's grip screws itself tight around her waist and the next, perfect circle of his thumb has her coming apart on his cock, drool slipping into his open mouth, in glistening rivulets down his black teeth.

Feyd gives himself to the sweet strangulation of her cunt, shuddering from each burst of seed that is wrenched from his balls. Each clench of their combined release sparks like a bang of fireworks, a rumble that shakes the fundament of the universe.

Their bodies grow still aside from their lungs' heaving and Feyd-Rautha's cheeks are dusted in a blush, lids drooping low as he lets his big hands wander over the curves of her body in blissful delirium. When his hand arrives in her nape, their lips meet again for a slow dance in the afterglow of their release — lazy, sloppy kisses and slow grinding of their hips while sweat cools on their flesh.

A silly thought tugs on the strings of his drowsy mind. If he fell asleep right here and she closed the lid of her sarcophagus over him, he could time travel to a world where the Baron is already dead and burned. He has not a doubt in his heart that she will make it happen.

With a sweet sigh, his darling straightens herself, fingertips lingering on his belly as she admires him from above. Golden glowglobe light spills from the crown of her head down her shoulders like a bridal veil, like a ruler's cape. Feyd-Rautha's hand moves up her sternum and cups her warm cheek. Her lashes flutter shut and she exhales slowly, and by the time she casts them open again, her gaze has sharpened itself to the tip of a spear.

She was an unshaped piece of wood, pulled out of the grave, then carved into a lumpy shape by the Bene Gesserit and set on the board, a wildcard pawn with promising genes, ready to play.

Now, she is about to shatter the chessboard with a fractal hammer, because now she has a reason. 

For him. For her new kin. And out of rage. And for freedom.

The Bene Gesserit didn't just open a relic from space. What they did is unleash an invasive species from a time capsule into a delicately stable ecosystem, and she intends to unravel it like a tumor from within.

Ash, ash — You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there---- A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the [ice] I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.

   - Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath

A/N: Because I'm an asshole, I will say the following: Two characters will die in the next chapter, and one of them you're looking forward to. Give me your best guesses 😌✨ If anyone guesses correctly, I'll eat my own arm.

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

[little-doe-mellily]

‼️18+ content ahead‼️

Hi ... ☺️

I'm kinda new to actually posting something on 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕣, sooo ... please be kind with criticism. ｡^‿^｡

Plus, english is not my mothertongue ... so please, be gentle with errors in grammar or general writing errors. (∩_∩)

➳❥ Anti-Cosmo x Anti-Wanda

➳❥ Summary: In their eternal lives, Anti-Fairies are mostly bound to their counterparts' decisions. Therefore, the majority of marriages in Anti-Fairy-World are arranged and for continuation of the Anti-Fairy race, heat cycles plague both males and females. When Cosmo and Wanda have Poof, Anti-Cosmo realizes that it won't take long until his rut hits full force ...

➳❥ Warnings: 18+ content ahead; don't like don't read ☺️

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Dusting off his dark blue shirt, he coughed up some of the leftover smoke that snuck into his lungs, when his newest evil scheme had been thwarted and the machine he'd built with the help of the Pixies exploded. Glaring at one of the many windows of his towering castle, he could see the silhouette of Jorgen von Strangle disappear through a sparkly portal, after throwing his counterpart's godkid through the glittery mass of clouds - oh, how he despised them, all of them. Clawing at the black marble window sill, he growled at his reflection in the window, snarling at the disheveled appearance glaring back at him. Raking his claws through the loose strands, the High Count huffed a sharp breath, baring his fangs in a pained expression.

The Head Pixie finished polishing his already cracked glasses, sneaking a curious glance at the leader of the Anti-Fairy race, "Control your anger. They are gone, no sense in throwing a tantrum, AC," the Pixie muttered, putting the white cloth he used to clean his glasses with away, stowing it in the breast pocket of his grey suit. Completely out of his usually rational character, he was about to put a comforting hand on the Count's shoulder, which he shrugged off almost immediatly.

Exhaling audibly, Anti-Cosmo nearly groaned, "It's not anger - it's arousal. Our counterparts had a baby ... my instinct is kicking in, libido is rising - I'll have to breed my wife soon." The Anti-Fairy fought a whimper, when his usually cold blood started boiling, rushing to lower regions. He had to kick the remaining Pixies and fellow Anti-Fairies out of the castle, his control was fading. Beads of sweat started forming on his forehead, while his hips were about to hump the air that started to feel thick around him. "G-get out. Leave! All of you ... fucking LEAVE!" Never hearing their already feared leader swear, the Anti-Fairies raised their blackened wands, leaving nothing but a dark cloud of fairy dust.

While Fairies had the privilige to mate with their significant other - the one they truly loved - Anti-Fairies were bound to their counterparts' desicions and had no choice but to accept their fate. Rarely, true love was involved as Anti-Fairies never believed in the concept of 'love' - hence the opposite of Cupid spread hate instead of love. Therefore, Anti-Fairies had to endure mating cycles once they were spoken for, securing the continuation of their race. Left without a choice, once their mating instincts kick in, Anti-Fairies felt the desire to breed and be bred - the copulation could take hours, due to the males' increased sperm production and the rising estrogen levels of the females.

His poor wife must already be raking herself in their shared bedroom, waiting for him to ravish her. The thought of fucking her into their shared mattress alone caused him to become incredibly horny; filling her with his cum until it leaked out of her little pussy, putting his offspring into her womb - by everything that's unholy, he needed her!

His dear, loving, gorgeous Anti-Wanda, probably dripping with need and waiting to be bred by her darling husband. "You really are desperate for it, aren't you?" the Head Pixie's monotone voice broke the silence. Groaning, the High Count noticed a tremble running through his body, exhaling another shivering breath. "G-go, please. I-I need my darling ..."

H.P. took this as his clue to leave, throwing his fellow Pixies a single nod and tapping a series of keys on his magical phone. Disappearing in a grey cloud made of pixels, he left the never pleading Anti-Fairy alone to seek his wife.

Clawing at the tight collar of his shirt, he made his way towards the master bedroom, ripping open the first two or three buttons, which clattered to the ground in several directions. Hurrying through the nearly empty halls, he tried hiding his leaking erection by pulling his shirt down to cover his tented black trousers. Servants and maids were curiously glancing his way, when their master rushed past them, not even floating. Pushing open the double-doors that led to their bedroom, he rushed into the room, magically closing and locking them.

"Honey?" the sweet voice of his darling wife rang out behind him. She sat in the middle of their queen sized bed, breathing heavily, her cheeks blushing in a dark blue color. His muscles strained, teeth bared, his eyes turned red. Anti-Wanda sat upon the rich wine-red covers, dressed in a short black laced nightgown, legs spread for him to crawl between. Not being able to take anymore of it, he pounced on his wife like an animal, sinking his fangs into her sweet smelling neck, piercing her soft skin and tasting the coppery blood that awaited him beneath. A pleasurable gasp left her lungs, hugging him to her body.

She pulled on his shirt, crumpling it up in between her fingers. Attempting to sit up, Anti-Wanda fumbled around with the frustrating task of opening all of his buttons. Her husband cut her off, ripping his shirt with his own claws, letting the rest magically disappear through a simple snap. Admiring his wife's naked body, he dived in between her breasts, nipping and licking at them, causing his dear to moan slightly. Slipping his arms under her plump thighs, he gripped them and pulled her up, inhaling deeply; groaning at the mouth watering sweet smell of her pussy - he was such a lucky man.

Immediatly diving into the dephts of her hot cavern, his tongue raked deeply through her insides. The sensual feeling caused Anti-Wanda's eyes to turn into a feral red color, rolling back into her head as blood rushed into her ears. Her tail wrapped around his right thigh, seeking to entangle with his own. The room filled with the slurping sounds of her feasting husband, whose tongue painted her insides with his saliva. His tongue was longer, due to his vampire-genes, wiggling itself through her insides as he drew patterns that drove his wife crazy.

His rumbling groans vibrated through her pussy, increasing the heated sensitation; she wiggled her hips, grinding them against her husbands face in the hope of getting more friction. Extracting his tongue, he drew the wet muscle over her sensitive clit in circular motions, clamping his mouth shut and giving the bundle of nerves some thorough sucks.

His wife's moaning sounds increased in volume, while she gripped at the many pillows behind her. "Sw-sweety ... it's-it's to muuuch~ AAAH-mmnnnpfh, ah- ha~ ..." Knowing his sweet was about to finish, he put more effort into his actions, looking at her through half lidded eyes. Arching her back, she gripped his hair, screaming, "Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Oooh~ ... hun." She looked precious, simply marvelous; disheveled but glowing at the same time.

Grinning suggestively at her, Anti-Cosmo climbed over her, aligning himself at her entrance, rubbing his tip against her glistening folds and smoothly sinking into her tight walls. He tried, he promised himself he'd be gentle with her, but ... looking at her, with her lips forming a pleasured 'o', and that sinful whine leaving her lungs - he couldn't contain this rut. Immediatly setting a steady pace, he grabbed her hips, gripping her flesh, while her ankles locked behind his back. "H-harder, Cozzie~" she begged, gripping his shoulders. Releasing a cracked chuckle, he breathed, "Your wish is my command, darling~" A small whine left her lungs, as he rolled the 'r'-sound with his tongue, his purr causing her to tighten around him.

Pulling out almost completely, he left the tip resting inside his wife's snug 'prison' and rammed all of himself into her in long, thorough strokes, burying his cock balls-deep in her velvety cavern. With each rough stroke, she emitted little screams, which caused the grip on the little fat of her waist to tighten, leaving scratches - proof of their love. "Ah~ darling, I'm going to pump you full with my love, leaving you drrripping for days," he purred, to which she reacted with a drawn out groan, toes curling behind his back. "M-more, honey. Pleeaaase~ ..."

Not denying his darling wife anything, his pace increased further, pounding her into the mattress with reckless abandon. Hugging her to his chest, Anti-Cosmo swallowed her moans, plunging his tongue into her mouth, enacting a sensual dance and coiling his muscle around her's. "Anti-Cozzie is so deep inside me," she thought, forcing her husband to swallow another loud moan. Caressing her trembling walls with his weeping cock, he felt his climax approaching as he snapped his hips even faster. Anti-Wanda felt her husband hitting her cervix, his cock twitching inside her, "Hu-hun, please ... c-cum inside! Breed me, fucking breed me. Put a baby in meee~ Give me your seed! Fuck a baby into me ... ah~."

Her muscles started contracting, her pussy pulsed, causing Anti-Cosmo to start growling as he lowered his face towards her neck and licked the puncture wounds that he marked his wife with. Squelching sounds filled his sensitive ears, which caused them to wiggle slightly, his tail wagging happily. Latching onto the spot, he sucked the darkened skin, releasing a dominant growl as he started cumming.

Pumping his release into her womb, he continued rocking into her as she screamed in pleasure, creaming him with her juices. Her toes curled, nerv endings tingling. "Y-yes, fill me up, baby. More, more. Give me all of your love~" she yelled. Tears fought their way into her eyes as stars clouded her vision, eyes rolling back. A shiver ran through her whole body, a tingling sensitation filling her pussy to the brim. "Anti-Cozzie's load is filling meee~"

Panting heavily, he pulled out of her, causing his wife to breathe a reluctant whine; he rested his head between her b-cup breasts. "No worries, my sweet crumpet. This was only the beginning. By the end of the night, you will carry my spawn and over the coming months I will be by your side as my seed grow inside your belly," her husband declared, deliciously rolling the 'r'-sound with his british accent. Unable to properly answer, his wife could only nod, signifying that he had truly fucked her stupid.

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As promised, Anti-Cosmo bred her at least three or four more times - honestly, she lost count after the third orgasm. The next morning, walking was nearly impossible for her, so she resorted to floating towards the kitchen and prepare her hard-working husband a marvelous breakfast. Though she looked presentable in her royal black nightgown and dark purple morning robe, the maids threw her knowing glances, grinning and giggling at her disheveled appearance. Dark blue locks randomly stuck out at the sides of her head, a satisfied grin plastered on her face.

The High Countess bent down and dug through the kitchen cabinets, searching for a pan to cook pancakes with. Grabbing some eggs, sugar, flour, baking powder and other ingredients, she started heating up the stove. While the pancakes cooked in the pan, she turned on the coffee machine and cut an apple into neat slices. Her husband didn't like to eat strawberries or anything like it, due to them leaving a sour taste in his mouth, so she picked a banana and decorated the pancakes. Instead of syrup, Anti-Wanda put some jam on the side and decorated the silver breakfast-tray with dark colored roses.

With a loving smile decorating her face, she took the tray and flew back to their shared bedroom. Her husband was still snoring softly, as she reentered the room, putting the tray down on his nightstand. As much as she hated to be the one to wake him, he had duties to fullfil - ruling an entire race wasn't an easy task to be born into. The clock on her nightstand showed that it was already 9.46 a.m., way to late to get up, for her husband's caliber. She crawled onto the covers, lowering herself onto the hips of his splayed out body and started peppering his face with lofty kisses. "Good morning, sweety," she trilled.

With a tired smile, his lips met hers in a sensual kiss, enclosing his hands around her cheeks, his fingertips stroking her temples and running through tender hair. "Good morning, darling. How are you up this early? Didn't I tire you out last night?" he chuckled, letting one hand wander to her waist, also stroking there to soothe the little pain she probably suffered, due to the scratches he left. His nostrils wiggled as he inhaled the bitter smell of coffee, glancing at his nightstand and grinning at the tray that stood there.

"Of course, I'm still a little exhausted, but that's no excuse for letting my poor husband starve, after he worked so hard on pleasuring me," Anti-Wanda giggled, raking her fingers through her husband's hair. "C'mon, Anti-Faries are waitin' to be ruled and Fairies to be bested, my sweet genius," she hummed, placing a light kiss on his forehead, before she jumped up and made her way towards the wardrobe, looking for an outfit.

While she picked out several dresses, holding them in front of her appearance in the mirror, her husband's still drowsy voice interrupted her, "Darling ... have I ever told you that I love you so very, very much?" Giggling, Anti-Wanda threw the dress she decided to wear today onto the covers and bent over the edge of the bed, "Of course you do ... every day, since we met and fell in love, ya dummy." Standing up straight, she let the straps of her nightgown slide down her body, leaving her in nothing but black panties. The High Countess grabbed the bra that somehow landed next to her bedside last night and put it on, all while her husband admired his wife's beauty.

Smirking, she chastised him, "Eat your breakfast, or you'll have to work being hungry all day long." Clicking the hooks of the bra into place, she let out a sigh of success and went to put on the dress she chose. "Oh, darling~ Can I not enjoy being the luckiest Fay in the universe for a few more minutes?" he sighed, love-struck.

"Careful, hun. If you enjoy it to much, I won't even have to finish dressing up and you will be late anyway," his wife chuckled, throwing him a suggestive glance, while fighting with the gown. "Wouldn't that be just grrrand, my love~?" he purred. She had to silently admit that her pussy longed for his love and that she had started clenching seconds ago, but she couldn't hold him off any longer - her needs would have to wait for the next pleasurable night ... or a little quickie on his work desk, whatever came first.

"Now, eat your breakfast. I put a lot of effort into it!" his wife ordered. Damn, he loved it when she was so ... dominating. With a content grin, he tasted the bitter coffee, moaning a little as the bitterness spread on his taste buds.

However, neither the High Count, nor his darling wife noticed the lanky figure that stayed hidden in the dark rose bushes outside. The figure that had kept an eye on the Countess since they split in highschool ...

[xsapphirescrollsx]

Bitch! Please write Demon Dr. Barber x plus size BLACK reader & Make it Nasty!!

Demon Dr Barbar x Plus Size Black Reader

@titty-teetee Deffo rusty, lol but I tried! I hope you like it <3

Andrew Barber, Andy for short and Doctor Barber to his patients, tossed the razor sharp edged blade to the wood floor of your bedroom. He watched your hip writhe under his grip as the rest of your underwear fell away. On his knees, his fingers delicately unfolding you, spreading you open as a bible to a theologian. Andy’s eyes burned with hate but his heart, if you could call that black void a caring center, filled with obsession. 

He licked long, tasting what was now his, the bushy hair of his chin tickled your skin in the wake his tongue and you shuddered. His long fingers glided over the curvy lines of your hips, he pushed his face in harder to your core and pulled you closer as he sunk his tongue all the way in. An unexpected shriek from your throat hardened his dick. The tortured squirming, the hurting and yearning panted whimpering he caused you to express exploded pride in his chest.

Andy felt his eyes cloud, he wasn’t afraid but he knew you might be as he rose from between your thick legs. It was time, he decided. He was was glad of the dim light shade, but as the darkness swirled inside him it pulled away the golden hue illuminating the room. He watched you now, laying there your skin glowing under what might be described as moonlight. You opened your eyes looked toward him as Andy slowly descended over your body.

His legs between yours, spreading you further open, he felt the jump in your heartbeat as your eyes met his now completely blackened orbs. He smiled down at you while grabbing your wrists in anticipation that you might try and fight back. 

“It’s time to pay your due,” his deep voice whispered. 

He watched you blink once, twice, and struggle to understand what you were seeing. And like he knew you would you did try move from him. Andy held you there, his hips pushed forward. This was his favorite moment, your eyes widen as he invaded your will, your body.

Wicked. If demons could love this was it. Pouncing on the woman, you, that he wanted to possess body and soul Andy began to ensure that you took every inch of him. And when your mouth fell open in a silent scream he put his mouth over yours. His devilish forked tongue, surprisingly warm and wet slid in. He jerked your hands over your head, picked up his thrusting pace and kept taking your breath away with every rub of his tongue over yours. Consuming you and feeling you give over your will to only him Andy promised himself this one would be different.

This human woman would live. Even as ghostly wisps of black shadow descended over and with every breath you strived for started to feel as if your lifeforce was draining. Andy held back and waited.

Your pained moans turned to yearning whispers after every kiss. You cinched around him the shorter his strokes became. Faster, more driven thrusts had your body shaking until you reached the pleasurable end. But Andy kept going. Once again devoting himself to holding back his instinct to send you into a delicious anguishing experience for his pleasure. He allowed another desire to take root, one that usurped the will of his human mother. The one his angel father used to conquer a mortal womb.

Andy let go, pouring sinfulness into you and the room went black.  

[bowtiedauthor]

The Black Flame or: subterranean blood worship

inspired by Cyclonopedia by Reza Negarestani

In earth’s hallowed subterranean womb confined, Where shadows breathe and darkness ever reigns, A liquid flame ignites the space entwined, A sentient force within blackened veins. From ancient soil doth black gold softly seep, A whisper silent, cosmic cry forlorn, Through fractured stone its essence dark doth creep, A tellurian pulse ‘neath sky is born.

The East, a vortex deep and tempest-torn, A stage where earth and man in conflict stand, Where ancient myths in anger are reborn, And weeping springs anew in desert sand. Oil, blood of earth in dolorous descent, A weapon forged within nature’s core, The congealed biomass of epochs lent, To create heat and energy, evermore.

Petroleum, thou dark and subtle foe, In complicity we bind our fate, To forces deep beneath the sky doth grow, In shadows of a timeless state. Through warlike engines and through armor’d might, The black flame fuels unending, ceaseless strife, A dance of shadows in the darkened night, Entwined with human soul and mortal life.

The blackening, a world by fire transformed, By liquid’s unyielding grip enthralled, In myth and mind its presence has stormed, Through history’s veins it drips and calls. O worshippers of the blackened flame, In complicity we take our part, Bound to the liquid’s ancient claim, Its darkness etched upon our heart.

As tellurian whispers rise and fall, And subterranean plots do yet unfold, We seek the truth ‘neath lies that we enthrall, In oil’s embrace, a tale is told. In blackened fields, where shadows darkly bloom, And myths of old find life in form anew, We worship at the earth’s most ancient tomb, The liquid flame, both old and true.

Through punctured earth, the otherworldlies creep, Dimensional gates where shadows breathe, Our ignorance, a gift to depths that seep, In oil’s dark thrall, we blindly weave. A mirror to the sun’s consuming fire, The earth rebels in shadow’s cold embrace, An apocalyptic end, our dark desire, In blackened veins, we find our fateful place.

-8/2/24

[taintedpompom]

Two white, two black

"A big spender." The Governess muttered as, absent her command, the Gilded Cagemaker's womb thrummed, carefully selecting the 4 pieces for the tribute. Rather then the ravenous hunger from before, that unrepentant consumption that tried to swallow all it could to further its own breeding... Now the cage had become controlled, poised, silver chains pinching the fabric as it dubitably accepted the rations offered to it.

The chains press themselves upon the drawer and as the cold metal touches the fabric the ancient silks slide upward, trailing up the chain towards the womb that patiently waited for its meal.

The blackened wisps of night curdled into red, the rich color brightening into pink as two colors were saited. The womb gurgled as it grew, like a content stomach digesting its meal. But then... that gurgle became a rumble, then a quake. The glittering pink built up, overpowering the other colors until it was nothing but a jewel encased pearl of pink, building and building up for the next evolution.

And, locked in Vriska's room, Roxy sat waiting for a fate she did not know was hers.

Black Red 13

Pink 11

White 9

Gold 3

The second pink poll has been unlocked. What is the future of Rose's child?

With two more red a stain can be picked to let the demon mark its passing.

[doc42]

Mother of Dragons

“Mother of Dragons” is another way of spelling “Azor Ahai”, as it describes a gender-flipped big damn hero drawing a Red Sword out of fire and blood.

She did this thing, why I cannot say, and Azor Ahai thrust the smoking sword through her living heart. It is said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon, but her blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel. Such is the tale of the forging of Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes.

The dragons are animated by sacrifice, the power of what once was supposed to be yet now can never be, the blood and the souls and the strength and the courage of days that never were. The shape of shadows. The fire, the life.

She saw sunlight on the Dothraki sea, the living plain, rich with the smells of earth and death. Wind stirred the grasses, and they rippled like water. Drogo held her in strong arms, and his hand stroked her sex and opened her and woke that sweet wetness that was his alone, and the stars smiled down on them, stars in a daylight sky. "Home," she whispered as he entered her and filled her with his seed, but suddenly the stars were gone, and across the blue sky swept the great wings, and the world took flame.

Ser Jorah's face was drawn and sorrowful. "Rhaegar was the last dragon," he told her. He warmed translucent hands over a glowing brazier where stone eggs smouldered red as coals. One moment he was there and the next he was fading, his flesh colorless, less substantial than the wind. "The last dragon," he whispered, thin as a wisp, and was gone. She felt the dark behind her, and the red door seemed farther away than ever.

Viserys stood before her, screaming. "The dragon does not beg, slut. You do not command the dragon. I am the dragon, and I will be crowned." The molten gold trickled down his face like wax, burning deep channels in his flesh. "I am the dragon and I will be crowned!" he shrieked, and his fingers snapped like snakes, biting at her nipples, pinching, twisting, even as his eyes burst and ran like jelly down seared and blackened cheeks.

She could feel the heat inside her, a terrible burning in her womb. Her son was tall and proud, with Drogo's copper skin and her own silver-gold hair, violet eyes shaped like almonds. And he smiled for her and began to lift his hand toward hers, but when he opened his mouth the fire poured out. She saw his heart burning through his chest, and in an instant he was gone, consumed like a moth by a candle, turned to ash. She wept for her child, the promise of a sweet mouth on her breast, but her tears turned to steam as they touched her skin. ...but her blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel. 

Her homes.

She threw open the door. " . . . the dragon . . . " And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. "The last dragon," Ser Jorah's voice whispered faintly. "The last, the last." Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own.

A true sword of fire, now, that would be a wonder to behold. Yet at such a cost . . . When he thought of Nissa Nissa, it was his own Marya he pictured, a good-natured plump woman with sagging breasts and a kindly smile, the best woman in the world. He tried to picture himself driving a sword through her, and shuddered. I am not made of the stuff of heroes, he decided. If that was the price of a magic sword, it was more than he cared to pay.

“Only death can pay for life.”

“Three fires must you light . . . one for life...”

He tried to picture himself driving a sword through her, and shuddered.

Inside the tent Dany found a cushion, soft silk stuffed with feathers. She clutched it to her breasts as she walked back out to Drogo, to her sun-and-stars. If I look back I am lost. It hurt even to walk, and she wanted to sleep, to sleep and not to dream. She knelt, kissed Drogo on the lips, and pressed the cushion down across his face. 

“It is said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon.” “The moon of my life.” “I am not made of the stuff of heroes.”

Daenerys is made of the stuff of heroes, she’s a big damn one. “Fire made flesh, and so am I.”

She climbed the pyre herself to place the eggs around her sun-and-stars. The black beside his heart, under his arm.

No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don't you see? Don't you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children. The third crack was as loud and sharp as the breaking of the world.

Interviewer: Why is Dany a princess and not a prince? George: I made this choice a long time ago, but I think I wanted to play a little with gender roles and reverse things a little... And, of course, "Mother of Dragons", to my mind, is much better than "Father of Dragons". There is the connection between the woman who brings forth life carrying a huge power of death, fire and destruction. There are very powerful metaphors in there. (x) 

Birthing dragons is a woman’s way of drawing a Red Sword of Heroes, “mothering a sword.“

Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought. He is fire made flesh, and so am I.

[onlyhurtforaminute]

KING OV WYRMS-IN AEONS WE SPOKE

[xruiningth3sh0wx]

Another one dead

By the road,

Ruthlessly tread upon

And robbed of its soul.

 

A grizzly sight,

One which catches the eye,

Rubber marks etched into the skin,

It’s enough to make you want to cry.

 

Trampled under by rolling feet,

The usurpation of our mother’s complete.

 

Torn apart by rubber teeth,

Silently reminded it didn’t deserve to breathe.

 

Another one dead,

Another one gone,

Gasoline spews into the air

And motors sing their siren songs.

 

That foul black serpent

Wants to strangle life,

Venom spewing forth from its fangs

As they pierce the Mother like a pair of knives.

 

Her children are murdered

By Her biggest mistake,

Rain falling hard everyday as She

Weeps from the constant rape.

 

Butchered upon the

Cold concrete,

By steel machines,

Innocent creatures are torn and beat.

 

It was their home first,

Despite our claims.

 

Man has an unquenchable thirst,

A desire to kill, torture, and maim.

 

Another one dead,

Left to rot,

And all pass by,

The corpse they forgot.

 

Why should they care?

 

A natural consequence

Of their dominance.

 

The little vermin shouldn’t have been there.

 

And we’re told that there are innocents,

There are those who don’t deserve to die.

 

Find me a pure soul,

And I’ll show you a pure lie.

 

A giant gang of serial rapists

Is on the loose.

 

Murderous offspring drag their weakened

Mother right to the noose.

 

Another one dead,

Killed for the cause,

An ugly strip laid

And another home lost.

 

To make way

For the doomsday machines,

Asphalt poured deep in the ground

While species galore are wiped clean.

 

More and more are laid to rest.

 

Despite what the tyrants say,

They were our brightest and best.

 

Bipedal monsters pilot

Their fuming horses.

 

Blackened is the air,

Heading towards suicide.

 

Kill the inhabitants with glee,

Spill their blood with heinous pride.

 

It’s all so goddamned sordid.

 

Another one dead,

Buried inside a concrete tomb.

 

The sky cracks and shakes

As filthy hands dig into our Mother’s breast and womb.

 

Gotta make way for the coming end,

That’s why they’re speeding into oblivion,

And they all invite their family and friends,

Ushering in a decadent age, just like that old Gideon.

 

Metal phalluses erected,

Plunging deep,

Forcefully injected,

And some wonder why our Mother

Just wants to enter eternal sleep

As the dross that is homo hubris continues to smother.

 

Hell is here,

It’s where we went.

 

Built on Earth,

That’s where we were sent.

 

Every man is damned,

And I’d say they all deserve to be.

 

I look forward to the end of Man,

I cannot wait to see him bleed.

 

Someday a rain will come,

And wipe away the scum that breeds.

 

Scum breeds scum, all roads lead

Right into the heart of decay.

 

She’ll be right when upon us She feeds,

For suicide is the gospel of humanity, and the logic of to-day.

 

For now, all I can do is watch

As more and more are driven over.

 

Extinction draws near for the precious ones,

Upon the critters, it creeps closer and closer.

 

What did they do to deserve this fate?

 

It’s man that’s wrong; the furry things don’t deserve our hate.

 

Hate with all your heart, the spawn of Man.

 

Remove him from this place, to help heal the broken land.

 

Disable his chariots of doom,

That should bring about his end soon.

 

I see the scum walking about,

And I’m told they have worth,

But my hateful heart just fills with doubt.

 

Another one dead,

Another one dead.

 

Four screaming wheels

Crushed its head.

 

Another one dead,

Another one gone.

 

Man thinks he’s invincible,

But his end’s around the corner; it won’t be long.

 

And I pray to God, I pray to Her,

Get rid of this bipedal disease,

Send us all to Hell, where we belong,

Make sure our lives, you fucking cease.

 

I cannot stand the sights I see

In this here modern world that torments me,

And torments creatures both big and small,

None of us deserve a place in that sacred Nordic hall.

 

It’s time to start over,

Just get rid of us.

 

Make war upon this race called Man,

For I think it’d be rather just.

[skxrbrand]

PREV / THE EMPIRE, DRAKWALD FORESTS

The time of the Green Moon had come again.

Morrslieb, evil and erratic twin of the white moon, Manslieb, hung in the sky and every vile and cruel thing beneath it's leering green gaze began to cavort. In the cities of man, cultists began fell rituals and in the forests of the world beastmen whipped themselves in wild frenzies. Furies blackened the sky in great noisome flocks and women and she-beasts alike brought forth mutants and monsters from their wombs.

It was all to please the gods, for their gifts would be many.

Khade the Unmaker, Firstborn of Blood Gods, found it loathsome. He flew over the mortal kingdoms, sneering down at what he saw. Both the forces of chaos in their wild jollity and the mortals hidden behind walls of stone or sharpened sticks or faith alone. Ignorant fleshlings wasting their breath, and their fear, on these four upstarts.

But they would be dealt with later. The Green Moon brough with it other opportunities, ones only the maddest of mortals or greatest of gods would dare entertain. With a woosh of air and a great thump, Khade at last landed before the tangled forest of Drakwald. Idonea gripped one hand and his stolen god-sword gripped in the other, he began to cleave, smashing wood into splinters. What didn't break ignited, quickly turning the gnarled, tangled wood in a raging fire. Beasts fled, monsters fled, and before the godly blade the very shadows themselves seemed to shy away.

But no normal shadows were these. They had eyes of black and white, and gnashing teeth, their monstrous faces warped into fearful snarls. They hissed and spat, but dared not come close to the Brass Blade and where they fled, Khade followed and cleaved until he was no longer cutting wood and trees. Instead, reality itself split before him. He was cutting into the veil that kept this world and that otherworld separate, intruding into the realm of the gods. One god in particular...

At last, he would stop his hedging, for there were no more trees. There was no sky, no earth, no mortal creates-- only blackness. Khade floated there, surrounded by subtle shapes in the dark. His blade flared to life and he held it before himself like a torch, nearly thrusting it into something. Between the flat of the blade, two milky eyes blazed and he could see the outline of a creature blacker than this realm, with fur and horns and hatred in it's mien. It was deific, like him, and somehow familiar and in that familiarity, Khade had known.

"𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐋. 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑."

Malal said nothing, instead drawing himself up taller to leer down on his uncle.

"𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑢𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒? 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔?" The Shadow God hissed and what Khade could only assume to be his million million children rattled about them bother, poised to strike; to die in their gods stead if need be. The Red God glanced down at the burning sword, then back at his nephew.

"𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄. 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃."

The shadow being agitated. It's shape became sharp and violent, rippling like a storm.

"𝑀𝑌 𝐷𝐴𝑈𝐺𝐻𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝐷𝐼𝐸𝐷 𝑂𝑁 𝑌𝑂𝑈𝑅 𝑊𝐻𝐼𝑀."

"𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐊𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍." Khade rejoined quickly. " 𝐈 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓. 𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑. 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄."

Khade held out his other paw, the Red-Sage Idonea sat in the middlemost pad. Malal eyed her hungry, flicking his gaze incredulously over to to the Red God. Then, he glared with suspicion, even as he scooped the offered God-Fractal up with inkly talons. As soon as Malal grasp her, Khade grabbed him in time. The Shadow God, again, agitated, but the Red God persisted. He let the Malignant taste his power and the power of the Blade he had stolen. Only then did he let Malal go, his Red Skin burning from the touch.

"𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐒. 𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒. 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐃𝐄. 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓…𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄."

Malal, intrigued and mollified despite himself, mulled over the offer. All the while, the Red-Sage in his claws screamed and cursed them both until shadows filled her mouth and nose, crawling in her ears and behind her eyeballs. Both gods ignored her.

"𝑌𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑎𝑟, 𝑅𝑒𝑑 𝑂𝑛𝑒. 𝑆𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑙."

[triste-guillotine]

TEITANBLOOD "Black Putrescence of Evil" Compilation ('...Systematic mass execution of the inmates on an infernal martial symphony. Breathless flesh caged in barbwire, stigmas of the terrorkamp. Racial katharsis...')

Tracks from : "Genocide Chants to Apolokian Dawn" Demo 2004 Teitanblood / Proclamation Split 7" EP 2005 Teitanblood / Necros Christos Split 7" EP 2006

"Sancta Maria Abhorrent shapeless Madonna Scarlet Woman Horrid sculpture made of ashes, burnt flesh, and blackened bones Mater Dei Wife of all and none, Harlot of lewdness

Unsatiable Impious Virgin Unblessed art thou among women And corrupted is the fruit of thy Womb, Jesus Who profaneth her father ... meant to be burned in pyre And feasted by the Beast

Serpent penetrating... Breaking hymen through Benevolence Ghostly Spear snaking along in pleasant defile, Neighs and moans soaked by unflowered blood, Whipped by flesh, vomited cum of fire Ethereally banged Overshadowed by Necrosemen Till the holy vexation is over

Fuled of the Highest Fruit of her whoredom Rex Jodorien was brought forth Uncircumcisioned Conceived from an astral rape Son of putrid prostitute of God..."

[therealityhelix]

Shards of the Nexus: Elixir Vitae

Once, long ago, a person took drastic measures to survive. In so doing, they opened up a whole new multiverse of possibilities.

Song: Reborn-Kids See Ghosts

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions

A second birth from the womb of the world, the wound of the world, cradled in chemical concoction, quickening. It felt endless around them, the entire planet permeating their skin, filling in the hollow within their skull. The green, the soothing, living green.

They opened their eyes.

They were alive.

Were they alive?

They had gone to sleep under Dr. Fries's anesthesia, a last ditch effort to remove the tumor in their brain. They had gone to sleep and then...then...

What?

Where?

Nothing but green, endless green, living liquid, the womb of the world, the endless world, endless, endless, endless...

They were being hoisted out of the glowing lake, naked and dripping the endless life. A makeshift harness tied around their torso, hand over hand, Victor Fries pulled them up.

A vast cavern, a goblet in the earth, a baptism into new life.

They knew where they were, vaguely, as much as a mind regrowing its own tissue could know something. That they must have died. This was their contingency plan.

This was the secret under the city, the Lazarus Pit, the life giver, the blood of the world. And beyond that, Gotham City, with its dark but stately skyscrapers, original art deco architecture a source of aesthetic pride.

And beyond that, Gotham City, crossed with a wall, partly flooded, bleak and hopeless.

And beyond that, Gotham City, a neon jungle, Gotham City, a dying town, Gotham City, a retro labyrinth.

And beyond that, Gotham City

And beyond that, Gotham City

And beyond that Gotham City

And beyond that

And beyond that

And beyond that

Endless green infusing their body, endless earth, endless earths, Gotham and Gotham and Gotham and Gotham and

Ropes criss-crossing their chest, pulling.

Hands on every inch of their skin, pulling.

Voices in every inch of the air, proclaiming themselves.

I am I am I am I am I am I am

We are.

Everywhere, all around, they batted weakly at the clutching hands, but it was just Victor, wrapping them in a robe and carrying them out into the fresh air. From Gotham, the voices cried out.

From Gotham and Gotham and Gotham and Gotham

Masks hovered and split. Two and then two and then two and then two and then two

Amorphous gray shadows creeping at the edges of everything, mocking, predatory laughter. Black smoke and blue lightning, a river of blood. Spirals. Spirals. Gods in the sky!

They covered their ears, but the voices would not be silenced, declaring their presence with ever greater strength

I am I am I am I am I am I am

We are!

And beyond that, dozens of bats wings spread across the clouds

And beyond that gunshots rang out

And beyond that Light meant danger

And beyond that

A rainbow sky and a blackened landscape

in the farthest distance, tiny on the horizon

a figure.

And beyond that

Looming

Unknowable

Inevitable

Approach.

IT

WAS

COMING

Significance crashed into them, rolled over their perceptions, a solid, overarching wall of knowledge.

It Was Coming It Was Coming

It Was Coming It Was Coming

It Was Coming It Was Coming

It Was Coming It Was Coming

The importance of it could not be ignored.

It roared itself into primacy.

Victor carefully placed them into the back of his van, It Was Coming, strapped them in, and drove away.

Reality split.

It Was Coming.

The crucial information filled their senses.

It Was Coming.

There were others.

It Was Coming.

They had to find the others!

It Was Coming.

Dr. Fries took them home, delivered them into the worried, fretting hands of their darling Jervis. They were carefully washed, gently fed, It Was Coming, tenderly tucked in to their downy bed.

“What is coming, my very dearest?”

It simply was. It was the most critical secret they had ever uncovered.

It Was Coming.

“Shh, beloved. You must rest now.”

The voices still called. They needed to be found!

It would be the most important thing they would ever do.

It Was Coming.

And they would be ready. The paths spun out in their mind, It Was Coming, familiar streets in Gotham and Gotham and Gotham and Gotham and

Their consciousness slowly slipped away, the voices fading but no less insistent. A question mark on a chain, a student ID, a bright purple and green bowler cap. Dingy gold and a gap-toothed grin, tight black curls.

They could see them, in fleeting impressions, guiding hands, fear and need, and endless green.

I will find you.

The most important promise they would ever make.

I will find you all.

Gather and keep safe, safe together against the oncoming power. The blood, the lightning, the danger, the danger!

Locked arms, a wall of protection for each other, and for all the worlds.

For Gotham and Gotham and Gotham

A figure on the furthest horizon

It Was Coming!

[casspurrjoybell-23]

Berserkr - Epilogue - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

[ 8 - M O N T H S - L A T E R ]

"Thank you so much, sir. I don't know how we shall ever repay you," one of the young, female Omegas within the group whispered as she reached out, splaying blackened fingertips in grateful acceptance of the small packet of bread, cheese and water.

In reply, Valie smiled sweetly at the Omega, waves of black and white hair tumbling over his shoulder as he moved to set the basket of provisions aside, choosing instead to grasp the young woman's hands tightly between his own.

Valie's mismatched eyes, one as white as a cloud in a clear summer sky and the other as dark as midnight, conveyed a profound sense of compassion as he focused intently on the newcomer.

"Please, there is no need for repayment. You have already sacrificed more than anyone should ever have to," he assured, voice always as gentle as a hummingbird's wings.

Valie had welcomed countless newcomers into their steadily growing community over the past few months and still, he never grew tired of a new face.

"I am called Valie. May I know what you are called?"

"My master called me Egil," the Omega's words held no obvious ill undertone.

However, despite her flawlessly rehearsed complaisance, Valie had gained more than enough experience throughout his life to know that in order to fully understand, he needed to look beyond the surface.

"Here, your past master's influence holds no sway. In this place, you are whoever your heart desires you to be," Valie affirmed, placing the package of provisions into her hands with care, all the while his smile widened as if to emphasize the liberating truth of his words.

"But for now, it is truly a pleasure to meet you, Miss Egil."

The heartwarming sensation that came along with witnessing someone's trust in him blossom was an experience Valie cherished without end.

Thus, when Miss Egil's once-averted gaze rose to meet his, a lone tear carving a path through the caked layers of grime on her face, Vali couldn't help but feel a similar sensation of moisture gathering within the creases of his own eyes.

However, amidst his sudden bout of emotion, the distressed cries of a nearby infant suddenly caught Vali's attention.

Within a single moment, his caregiving instincts kicked in, drawing him toward one of the newest Alpha mothers in the group who was clearly struggling with her newborn.

"Please, eat. I will return to check on you later, alright?" Valie reassured Miss Egil, whose cracked lips curved into a faint smile as she offered a silent nod in response.

Gathering his basket, Vali moved with haste towards the Alpha woman he'd noticed.

Her jaw was stained with tears as she tried to soothe her child, however, every gentle sway of her arms sent a wince through her face, hinting that certainly, her child was not the only one suffering.

Valie crouched before the woman, using both hands to carefully... slowly... lower himself to a sitting position on the dirt floor so that he could more effectively survey the situation.

Lately, it was becoming increasingly difficult for Vali to complete tasks that required him to move up and down constantly like this, what with his heavily distended stomach getting in the way.

It had taken Vali a long time to acknowledge the truth in Guiscard's claim about his pregnancy.

Denial persisted even when the unmistakable signs of morning sickness began... he'd first attempted to attribute his symptoms to 'bad water' from the nearby creek,and then motion sickness from riding Frode around the village.

However, as his abdomen began to expand, the gradual transformation of his body undeniable evidence of his Alpha's claim to his womb, Valie eventually found that he could no longer evade reality.

He was pregnant.

He was going to be a father.

He had created life.

It was a terrifyingly beautiful revelation but one that he would absolutely never take for granted.

But this moment was not about him.

So, even when Valie winced at a particularly sharp twinge in his lower abdomen... a recurring ache that had intensified over the past few days... he simply gritted his teeth, pushed through the pain and spoke to the clearly distressed woman.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Vali began, his voice just as gentle and caring as ever.

"I am called Vali. I couldn't help but notice that both you and your child seem a bit uncomfortable. Is there anything that I can do to assist you?"

Valie lowered his head slightly, offering a concerned smile as he attempted to obtain a better view of the Alpha female and her restless infant.

The Alpha female's head snapped up, her eyes meeting Valie's in an instant.

And as if the sight of him alone triggered an avalanche, the woman's already moist eyes overflowed with a renewed hurricane of tears, an agonizing sob tearing its way out of her bosom, where her baby still struggled against her.

"My Omega... she..." her voice quivered, gaze shifting back and forth between her child and Valie as she struggled to articulate the weight of the torment she'd undoubtedly endured.

"Gods above, I tried so hard. But our master was so relentless, so cruel and..." she wavered, irises wobbling beneath the heavy sheen of tears that fell from her eyes.

"And I couldn't save her. And now, I can't even soothe Elof's cries because it hurts to hold him..." she extended one, shaky forearm, revealing the deep, weeping sores that encircled her wrists... the result of the chronic chafing of chains that once bound her.

"Oh, my," Valie gasped, stunned into silence as tears welled up in his eyes for the umpteenth time that day.

Every one of Valie's emotions swirled in a particularly tempestuous dance lately, as ephemerally labile as a passing rainstorm.

The healer had told him it would be this way... that as his pregnancy progressed, his pheromones would become increasingly restless, a wild wind that refused to be tamed.

But simply being told that it would happen was not the same as experiencing it and as Valie quickly found himself overcome by the suffering and desperation unfolding all around him, he decided that after this, he'd take a brief, yet much-needed retreat back to his abode.

Furthermore, the bread and cheese he'd packed were quickly dwindling due to the large group of newcomers they'd welcomed today, so a visit home to replenish the bread he had set out to rise in the crackling hearth that morning was inevitable at some point today.

Valie cleared his throat, shifting his focus back to the situation at hand.

"I am so, deeply sorry for your loss," he began, his tone filled with empathy.

"How about you share with me the story of how you and your fated met while I tend to your injuries?"

The Alpha woman maintained a wide-eyed gaze, disbelief evident in her hesitant expression.

However, after a few more moments, once she was sure that Vali wasn't some phantom apparition sent to offer hope and then snatch it away before her very eyes, the distraught woman nodded solemnly.

"You are all so kind. I don't know how to thank you," she admitted, eyes downcast.

Valie just smiled that genuine smile that always seemed to stick to his lips like glue, eyes crinkling with kindness.

"We do this out of the love in our hearts, not to seek any reward," he reassured her, extending a hand.

"Now, perhaps Miss Egil wouldn't mind holding Elof while we take care of your wounds?"

The next half hour passed quickly, what with the female Alpha... who Valie had come to learn was called Alfhid... sharing wondrous stories of her and her fated's time together.

Their conversation was hushed at first... hesitant.

But as minutes crept by, whispers turned to soft laughter when Alfhid told Valie of the time her fated accidentally fell into the nearby well 'without any injuries to show for it, thank Odin' or the time Alfhid had fainted when she'd found out about her fated's pregnancy.

As Valie finished cleaning Alfhid's wounds, dressing them with wool wax and wrapping them with clean strips of linen, they even shared a few smiles of understanding.

By the time Valie emptied his basket of the rest of the bread, cheese and leather water skeins it held and stepped out of the longhouse that sheltered all of the village's newcomers, the sun already hung high in afternoon sky.

A warm breeze rustled through the surrounding trees and he exchanged friendly waves with his fellow villagers, reciprocating their kind gestures with nods of gratitude.

They'd truly evolved into one massive, tight-knit community over the past few months, a family of sorts, which was an experience Valie never imagined that he'd ever have the privilege of being a part of.

But it was a privilege that he treasured and now, he couldn't fathom a world without the rest of them it in, too.

Being constantly surrounded by people who genuinely cared for him, just as he cared for them, never failed to raised his spirits.

[kendrixtermina]

(black rot)

You are the flesh that maggots adore:

wanted only because you’re still warm,

because you’re the only thing that’s not yet picked clean

of the shapes in the river.

Soon you shall be like them,

twisted mosaics of bare degloved muscle

the many hands that tear and rip,

the many black stains, spreading, as you scream,

the black oozes, from your ribcage, from your fluids

staining and infesting the soils,

a feat laying in state, on baren hospital bed racks,

for the slithering things, the many insects setting down on filigree wings,

the obscene feast of worms,

whose many mouths-bits cover all their lengths,

traversing you as a site of exquisite pleasure

your orchid-like explosion, bursting like a blossom,

ribbons on innards laid out.

Hung up in a slaughterhouse as the beasts,

from the ceilings,

as tribute to another field of thorns,

from which the divine angels won’t have much to reap

a soul gone off a cliff,

willing and consenting in pull power of one’s faculties

the blurred painting of a scream,

a small, bare light,

down on its knees,

surrounded on all sides by long tall shadows.

The nakedness straped in,

lying prone,

ready for dissasembly upon some gynecologists chair

The heart, ready for the reaping,

for a masterful hand to rip out,

and dress and weigh,

amid scents of formaline,

but its not yet time for it,

not now as one expertly makes the cut on the line,

presenting forth a finger to sample the quality from within,

to penetrate the innermost.

What do they aim for, the takers?

It cannot be the seats of pleasure.

The nakedness, left distorted,

bursting from within with unholy seed.

Bloated with baceteria,

that have long served it and now demand back their tribute.

And did you really think,

death would knock gently like a lover?

That he would have the need to turn you around sweetly,

and behold the swell of your pallor?

What need does he have,

when he has sat on the roof so long in patience,

when you ever saw the scraps of his black coat

hanging down your roof into the vision of your window

why would he need to hurry,

when he and his folk had you so long surrounded?

The dead birds are left emptied,

the stuffing’s left torn out,

by the skinless, twisted shapes of things,

long outgrown the affordances of mercy

even the most emaciated of white backs

is in instant target in a world of blackened hunger.

Death will come in riding the very bloated horses,

that you left for dead on the side of the road during your flight.

His shadows will ooze out from the very books and candles

of the dark magic that you once used to summon him,

and the child you never wanted, evicted from the womb,

will come to suck the blood at your anorexic chest,

bride of a cancelled wedding

Your empty-eyed gaze, your lilly white shirts,

will be crushed by the lightning-struck trees of yesteryear,

their ever-creaking boles whose leaflessness you’d long neglected.

Death would have come anyways,

were it not for this one,

it could have taken any other path,

but fact is that it comes the path that you travelled,

the one whose weight you were as what ifs.

As though you had not always known,

that to live is to know that something terrible is going to happen.

Who now dares speak on angels?

More birds for the cats,

more sheets in mausoleums,

more trick-of-the-light flickering apparitions,

hastening to a churchyard’s gate they will find closed.

Thus ever comes the optimists voice:

‘You have all the time in the world!’

it typically comes just before they, too,

are turned to skulls and mushrooms.

I hang onto time by my teeth,

and yet it is wrenched from my hands.

There’s never, ever enough.

Oh how very wasteful have I been.