#harmony and horror cherry

[cherrychan-0110]

Sleepy Doodle Dump

Cherry/Revival’s Trooper Henry (belongs to @cringey-tea)

Twf oc stuff

Big Ole Au’s Felix/Mari phone doodles *screams and rips my skin off

[pringledraws]

Family sitcom.

Hehe love all of ya!

:3

@bewilderedsblog

@cherrychan-0110

@chrismangaming

@cringey-tea

@divnydoodles

@oddballinonyamama

[nevaehdavis5675]

i made Mari ( Cherrys oc)

I tried ok I'm sorry

@cherrychan-0110 Surprise heres your early Christmas present now I did try I hope you like it

[oceanlipgloss]

MEAT SHOP

BEELZEBUB.

+ warnings: dark themes, erotic hues, graphic descriptions of horror and gore, inclusion of vore, strong language.

+ female mc, feminine pronouns.

No restaurant could ever dream of offering such buttery meat—never to be sold in any boucherie.

A precise percentage of fat. A measured amount of muscle. The perfect mix of flavours. Raw flesh softened into dough between his bloody teeth. Dead cells trickled down his smiling lips in strawberry streaks.

Her bones cracked like candy in his mouth, but she didn’t taste sweet.

A once-in-a-lifetime blend. Not flavoured like heaven. Paradise isn’t even a good thing, now is it?

Fuck, how long he had been waiting!

So close. He was so close! And yet, he was losing his fucking mind. Though God had created him a ravenous madman, sanity was still slipping through his feverish fingers and down his trembling hands. Like oil and grease.

There was no time to cut the cake. No time, no time, no time. None at all! None whatsoever. He had to rip a bite out of her.

No, no, no, no.

Hold it.

This is an only chance. Jackpot. A once-in-a-lifetime meal, remember? Even if it wasn’t a full course, lunch, breakfast, or so much as a snack.

He can never indulge in this grade of meat anymore.

Somewhere, in an insignificant corner of his scattering mind, the thought made him sad. What a shame it is for such exquisite food to never be enjoyed again.

Later, later. As for now!

Should he swallow her whole or rip flesh and bone apart first? Choke down meat or savour flavour? Lick blood or drink plasma?

In the end, he didn’t take the time to peel smooth skin back like he would have done with chocolate wrappers.

He couldn’t do it.

Not too long ago he had sent her an invitation into his bathtub. Locked up her hot body between his legs. With every kiss fabric melted off.

What a dirty human. He could smell the fucking arousal on her.

Dumb, clueless bitch.

Everything had to be just right. He did not want to miss the burst of even one particular cell. He hadn’t wanted to risk watering down the palate. So there were no flowers. There was no water. Nothing. Just pristine enamel. And him. It was empty.

His lips had kissed her shoulder softly.

And then his teeth had bitten down.

Gentle.

Hard.

Harder still.

He had torn away a piece of her.

What do humans say?

Oh, but of course.

‘Bon apetit!’

The tub overflowed with blood. Fetid burgundy burst under his weight and pooled onto the bathroom floor.

No difference between candied cherries and blood clots. Ligaments and tendons. Flecks of flesh and bits of bone. Broken fingers and curled toes. Cartilage that’s hard, but much softer than stone. He devoured them all, polished stains off glossy marble.

No crime scene or slaughterhouse could have compared.

His smile shone. He felt a little bit empty. Was it regret? Well, it’s too late! Such pleasure is worth every regret in the world. His guts ached in longing under his grimy nails. So good, though not yet full.

How he wanted more!

He adored the putrid pain, the harmonious flavour, the very gore.

So little remained of her...she couldn’t even be called a corpse.

No more. Not in any meat shop.

Once was not enough.

With trembling fingertips and a strange, twisted love, he stroked the girl’s skull.

Oh, you stupid little human, you.

If only there were more of you.

+tag: @/kanatashinkaifr does a gory jumpscare sound good to u? :P

+notes: Beel is very much thriller material. There is a cold-blooded, unstable part of him. A true gluttony incarnate—lusting for flesh, eating all there is, leaving nothing behind. No matter what resides in his heart and who the victim is, he's a devil and his sin continues to rule him. Even if he does manage to resist eating MC, his desire to devour her is a flame that still burns. Inspired by the in-game screenshots in this post.

This, my people, was a dark pleasure to write. Blood and meat, dear peeps ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I want to write more stuff like this in the future. I kid you not, I almost felt free for a minute. *Rubbing hands like a villain fly* hail horror, hail gore!

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[tovalhallaandback]

Vores Lille Dukke

Summary: A night at the club on All Hallows Eve turns into frighteningly intimate evening when you run into York’s undead King and Queen who offer an invitation that you’d be stupid to turn down. 

Pairing: Vamp!Sigtyggr x Vamp!Stiorra x Human!AFAB!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), threesome, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex (giving male/female, receiving male/female), lowkey dom/sub vibes (dom Sigtryggr, switch Stiorra, Stiorra is also a bratty sub lol, sub reader), rough sex, minor blood kink, minor praise kink, mentions of blood, legal alcohol drinking (but reader still able to consent), possibly more that I'm missing ? Seriously pls let me know if you felt these tags were not sufficient.

Wordcount: 10.3 (Yeah...i went a little nuts..)

AN: So uh, happy belated halloween?! I have more to say in the AO3 ANs lawl.

Cross-posted on to AO3 since it's so long. Also if you want to skip to the smut, then skip to the bolded part.

There’s a luminescent glow in your favorite club tonight, black lights illuminating only whites and neons while casting everything else into eerie shadows. The bass from the speakers beats so loudly, you feel it in your bones, like a second heartbeat as you lean against the bar nursing a cocktail, watching your friends. You can’t help but laugh as one slaps another party goer across the face while the other seems like they have been starved from human touch for centuries with the way they try to devour their companion. At least, they both seem to be having fun, though you wish they had kept their promise of not abandoning you tonight when they forced you out of your apartment. 

The costumes tonight lack creativity - white bunny costumes as an excuse to where lingerie in public, skeleton body suits like a second skin, angels with far too salacious grins…Though creativity tends to get stifled when there’s only so many white and neon costumes to choose from for a halloween blacklight party. And besides, it’s not like your ingenuity is any better, spotting several other possessed dolls within the throngs of people on the dance floor, even if you had no clue that you’d be coming out tonight until four hours earlier when your friends arrived clad in costume, giddy with excitement as they announced a change in plans from your annual horror movie marathon. And for a last minute costume, you look damn fucking good.  

Sure you would have rather kept to your converse instead of the four-inch strappy stilettos one of your friends insisted you wear knowing far too well that  high heels, cobblestone, and alcohol are a lethal mix, but you’re still quite proud of the rest of your thrown-together costume. It’s a simple assemble - just a white pleated skirt with your favorite white tank top; both of which emphasize your favorite physical attributes in just the right way. Then of course, there’s the black leather jacket and white lace-trimmed thigh highs that add a little bit of edge to your look. But the cherry on top? Your make-up, so detailed and precise that it looks like a professional special-effects make-up artist completed it. So while tonight might not be your usual scene, at least you feel damn fucking confident in the way that you look. 

“What’s your poison?” You just barely hear a voice that can only be described as sounding as sweet and harmonious as Tchaikovsky’s “Waltz of the Snowflakes” say over the blaring music, though still loud enough that your heels pop off the ground for a moment, still unable to shake the feeling of being watched that has been haunting you the last couple of weeks.  At first, you ignore it despite the voice’s alluring nature, like a siren in a storm, beckoning you to find its source. Plus, you’re certain they must be talking to someone else. But then it comes a second time, even louder and clearer, like the person has moved closer to you. “It looks really fucking good.” 

Your eyes flick down to the deep ruby red cocktail in your hands. The stranger is right; it is fucking delicious, tasting mostly of sweet cherries and pomegranate. It’s one of those drinks that you could easily down five of in a row, completely forgetting that there’s alcohol laced between the sweetness.

“I think it was called Dracula’s blood? Or something cheesy like-“ The words get stuck in your throat as you meet the deep dark eyes of the stranger, not quite able to discern their color under the blacklight. The petite lithe female looks like a walking goddess with her pin-straight dark chocolate brown hair falling almost to her waist and skin-tight little black dress that falls just to her mid-thigh. You instinctively swallow, licking your lips as she stares back at you, a sweet but tantalizing smile hanging off her lips.

“Like that,” you say finally, though it comes out almost like a whisper. But, it’s a miracle you are even able to finish you sentence with the way this young women has captured your attention. 

“Would you like another?” she asks as she waves down the bartender. 

All you can do is nod, still awestruck by how perfect her cream colored skin looks under the purple-hued lighting and how the dress she wears draws your gaze to the delicate slope of her breasts, then the curve of her waist. But on the bright side, she seems to hardly notice your blatant ogling (or maybe she is just used to it). 

Either way, you chastise yourself for such behavior, forcing your mouth that you didn’t even realize fell open closed. And somehow, you manage to remove yourself off the bar, the sleeves of your jacket making a squelching noise as they peel off the tacky ledge covered in God knows what.

As you reach into your pocket for your card, the mysterious female shakes her head. “It’s on me.”  With a gracious grin, you accept the drink from her then bring it your lips, allowing the sweet nectar to flow over your lips once more.

“Fuck that is good,” says the young woman. 

She adds something else, but you hardly register it, now enamored by the way the crimson drink drips off of one of her canines (wait have those always been so sharp and pronounced?!) and onto her plush lower lip like she has just sunk her her teeth into someone’s flesh. Then, you find yourself wishing for chance to taste the beverage on her tongue… And that’s when her costume finally makes sense - the little black dress with sheer black tights, the velvet choker around her neck, the smears of blood in odd places, the overly emphasized canines…she’s a vampire. 

“Great costume,” you splutter out then immediately close your eyes. Fuck?! Great costume?! If she weren’t still standing there, you’d probably be hitting yourself over the head for such a stupid fucking line. 

She smiles at your sweetly, like you’re a cub who thinks they can keep up with the lions. “Thanks.” Her eyes do a once over your costume. “Big Child’s Play fan?” 

Your hand seesaws. “Yes and no. Mostly just the ones from the late 90s that are more comedy than horror. Let me guess - True Blood? The Vampire Diaries?” 

“Something like that.” 

Your fingers tap against your thigh as your eyes fall over the crowd again, rattling your brain for something more clever to say to the vixen than talk about your fucking costumes. You spot one friend, now practically fucking their companion on the dance floor as other people grind, jump, and fist-pump to the beat. You’re still scanning the crowd for the other when your eyes meet a different stranger’s gaze. The taller man leans across the far wall, a drink at his lips as he stares back at you and the vixen to your left. You’re certain that someone as devilishly handsome as him has to have his eyes on his clear counterpart, but then her glass clinks against yours as she whispers, “I think someone likes you.” 

But before you can counter her, she’s gone, unable even to locate where she has disappeared to. Besides, it only takes two seconds to realize that she’s right as the other stranger’s eyes remain glued to you instead of following wherever the vixen disappeared too. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and suddenly you’ve never been more thankful to be in a club with backlights. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you finger waggle at the stranger, swearing you see the flash of a smirk as he takes another sip of whatever he’s drinking. 

Maybe if you were three or four drinks deep, you might have enough confidence to waltz over to the new stranger. But you hardly feel the familiar warmth or euphoria pulsing through your veins, still only on your second drink with the first having been nursed for almost an hour. Besides, there’s no fucking chance you’d have a chance with him. Right? 

For God’s sake he looks like fucking Mr. James Dean with the jeans, glowing white t-shirt, and mohawk…? (Really you’re just certain the sides of his head are shaven.)  But either way, he looks like the type of guy who need only wink and panties fall to the floor for him. (And that’s just in shitty lighting from thirty-feet across the room. Up close? He probably looks like a Greek fucking god.) 

Your other friend appears, swiftly dragging you by the hand as they weave through the crowd towards the bathrooms unintentionally saving you from embarrassing yourself a second time this evening. Their iron grip around your wrist disappears once in the sanctity in the bathroom, then your friends turns to face you. “You cool finding your own way home tonight?” 

Your friend glows pink under the neon sign mounted above the sinks reading, ‘Please Don’t Do Coke in the Bathroom’. There’s an odd coziness to the brick-walled bathroom with four onyx stalls and and a double vanity sink, like the owners of the club know most people retreat to the bathroom for a moment to themselves as just the thrum of the bass beats through the walls now. It’s nice being able to actually hear your own thoughts and not need to shout to be heard. 

“Yeah. After you both promptly abandoned me the minute we got drinks, I figured that would be the case.” 

Your friend wraps you in too tight a hug, then places a gentle kiss on your temple. “We don’t deserve you.” 

“No, you really fucking don’t,” you say with a giggle as the edge of the countertop bites into your hipbones. It’s not the first time they both have pulled this move on you, nor will it be the last. But, you’ve never minded it, just insisted all three of you ensure your location-shares stay on and check-in that you’ve all made it home by lunch the next day. 

You listen intently as your friend rattles off to you all the details they have learned about their prospective companion for the evening, clearly elated by how the night has shaped out. Eventually, you get your chance to tell them about the two strangers who caught your eye, only to quickly deny any plans of leaving with them when your friend wiggles her eyebrows at you. There’s no way in hell you have a chance with either of them. Then with one more giddy hug, they leave you in the bathroom alone. 

The silence is comforting, appreciating how you can finally think straight as you try to decide whether to stay a bit longer or to leave. Plus, the bottle of Pedialyte you guzzled in anticipation of the evening has finally made its way through your system. 

You jump in your heels when you reemerge from one of the stalls, having hardly heard the female stranger from earlier enter the bathroom. She sits with one leg crossed over the other on the grey concrete counter top, the deep cherry red of the soles of her heels flashing at you as she uncrosses her legs, her smile widening, like she’d been waiting on you. She pops off the counter as graceful as a feline, her hips swaying as she glides effortlessly towards you like she’s barefoot instead of wearing at least four-inch black patent-leather Louboutin stilettos. 

“I got worried you left,” her musical voice says, sending a tingle down your spine. She smells like sweet vanilla, roses, and like she’d make all your dreams come true if you asked.

“Just needed to cool off,” you manage to mutter despite her proximity. If you just leaned forward half an inch, you’d finally find out what your chosen drink of the evening tastes like on her lips. 

“Do you mind if touch you? Fix a few things out place?” 

You shake your head. Of course you wouldn’t fucking mind if she touched you; she could do anything she wants to you. The graze of her knuckles against your own when she handed you your drink earlier, then again when you clinked glasses together, had sent a spark of electricity coursing through your veins, leaving you with wanting more.

Goosebumps erupt across your collarbone when her wine-red nails scrape across the tops your breasts as her fingers curl into the hem of your tank top. She shimmies it down a little lower, so the material highlights your cleavage a little better. Your chest rises and falls slowly when her hands move to your hair, then your face, making small adjustments here and there, until she finally grips you at your shoulders gleaming at you like you’re her masterpiece. “That’s better. Now, I do hope you at least say ‘hi’ to your admirer before you leave. I’m sure it would make his night.” 

You nod without quite realizing it, hypnotized by her scent…her charm…the way her breasts seem to strain against the bodice of her dress every time she inhales…. Up closer now, you swear she seems familiar, like this is not the first time that you’ve seen her. But, she seems young enough that you presume it’s from your job or maybe your university classes. 

“You two know each other?” you ask, cursing under your breath after the fact for the way your voice squeaked out the words. Fucking hell, you need to pull yourself together. 

“Something like that,” she says for the second time that evening, still seemingly oblivious to the way your mind drifts off wondering what it would be like to end up in between the sheets with her. 

You let the vixen guide you out of the bathroom, arm looped with hers like you’ve been besties your entire life. Thankfully, she deposits you back at the bar before sauntering away into the crowd again where she disappears within the sea of people as you berate yourself for forgetting to even ask her name. 

A bartender finally wonders back over towards you, but not take your order, instead just handing your drink of the night right to you. Just beyond the bartender at the other end of the bar, the vixen (wait when did she get over there?) blows you a kiss. This time when she rejoins the dance floor, you follow her with your eyes. She stops when she reaches the middle, leaning forward as she whispers into a tall burly blonde nearly twice her size, dressed like Fred from Scooby Doo. 

And then…fuck that’s fast. Then again, she is drop dead gorgeous and you too would probably follow her like a lost puppy if she asked you too. A pang of jealousy rips through you suddenly wishing you could be the man who gets to worship her this evening. But it’s only a momentary feeling, for seconds later the vixen’s cupping her hand around the male stranger’s ear from earlier. Then with a wink so clearly meant for you, she drags the blonde male dressed like Fred from Scooby Doo towards the exit. Shit, and here you thought you wouldn’t actually have to follow through with the promise you made in the bathroom earlier, could just slip out undetected in a few minutes. 

Your eyes flash up to the ceiling then to the DJ then the bathrooms, desperately searching for anything that could hold your gaze instead of the handsome stranger’s eyes. It’s not that you don’t want him, because oh my fucking God, you would trade a kidney to spend even one night with him. It’s just that you’re not known for pick-up lines…And what if he’s just been staring at you because something is out of place with your costume? 

But a voice so tantalizing with its velvety smoothness and hint of an accent that it forces you to find its source trails over your ear, saving you from having to make any such moves. “You know it’s dangerous for a young woman like yourself to be out unaccompanied.” 

You don’t realize that your mouth has fallen open again till the owner of the voice reaches out and presses a finger beneath your chin till your lips meet again. Of course the voice belongs to the handsome stranger from earlier in the evening; it matches him perfectly. 

And fuck, he is even sexier close-up…and also supposed to be a vampire? For a minute there when he smirks at you, he seems to have the same over-accentuated canines like the young woman from earlier. Plus, there’s also those dark splotches at the hem and collar of his shirt… Regardless, the alcohol has thankfully finally begun to hit, just enough now that you feel your earlier trepidations with flirting disappear but still remain of sound mind and judgement.

So instead of dwelling on what exactly his costume is tonight, you say, “Technically I did not arrive alone nor am I currently alone." A giggle escapes your lips as he peers around you then looks behind his shoulder like he’s searching for a companion. “You’re here.”

His eyes are lighter than the vixen’s, but you cannot quite determine whether they are blue or green yet, nor can you figure out the color of the remaining hair on his head, braided down the center like you’ve seen in those medieval viking television shows. But, his jawline is so sharp it could cut steel and based on upon the way muscle ropes around his forearms and biceps, you’re certain there is a chiseled six-pack you’d love to run your tongue over hiding underneath that t-shirt. 

“Ah, but I’m a stranger. Could easily be a serial killer out to lure young women just like yourself under the guise of a good time.” 

A flash from one of the strobe lights flickers off of the array of rings riddled over his left hand as he brings his drink of choice to his lips. The golden ring implanted with a larger burgundy stone on his left finger intrigues you the most, reminding you of a class ring or perhaps a family heirloom with how worn it appears, like it has been in his family for a very very long time. He looks oddly familiar to you too, but maybe he also attends your university. 

“Who says that I’m not the serial killer?” He chuckles at your lame deflection and you think you might just die then and there. “Besides, we won’t be strangers anymore if we exchange names.” 

The purple-hued light highlights his teeth when he grins in a frighteningly sexy kind of way sending a shudder down your spine. “Sigtryggr, and yours?” 

Sigtryggr…interesting. You’re pretty sure it’s Scandinavian, yet you get the feeling that it’s no longer a common name even for that region of the world. But then again, maybe it’s a family name passed down for generations. 

You tell him your name, then add, “So, Sigtryggr, are you enjoying your evening?” 

“It seems like it’s on the uptake now.” Damn, he’s smooth. And before you can even think to respond, a scent that reminds you of drinking spiced apple cider in an evergreen forest during autumn washes over you all while Sigtryggr's warm breath starts to tickle your ear. “You could solidify that outcome if you went home with me tonight.” 

Is it the most ingenious line to ever exist? Nope. But does it work? Yep. Yep, it fucking does. Because who would say no to an invitation like that from a man as handsome and sexy as Sigtryggr? 

Your thighs squeeze together as a rush of heat washes over you, desire brewing deep in your core at Sigtryggr's prospect. Never in your life did you think that you were that easy to persuade, especially by someone you had only just barely talked too, and yet here you were letting this stranger lead you out of the club into the brick-walled back alley. 

A crisp autumn breeze sends an abandoned beer can rolling down the alley while leaves of browns, reds, and oranges skate across the pavement and a chill runs down your spine as you instinctively wrap your jacket further around you. Then there’s Sigtryggr with not even a singular patch of goosebumps in sight.

“You’re not cold?” 

“Where I’m from, this is warm. Here.” His hands feel like they’ve been resting in front of a fire as they rub up and down your biceps and oh - his eyes are a brilliant piercing blue, like a frozen lake… so easy to drown in…. “My place is only a couple of blocks from here but would you prefer to go back inside and wait for a taxi instead?” 

“Don’t you mean an uber?” 

“Same thing. Question still stands.” Then that grin that makes your knees go weak beneath you appears again when you shake your head no. “Good, because I don’t think I can wait any longer.” 

Sigtryggr's hands thread through your hair as he tilts your head back sending waves of desire crashing throughout your body. Your lips meet and you immediately taste iron. Fuck had you been so desperate that you had bitten him by accident? Or maybe did he bite you? Thankfully, Sigtryggr doesn’t seem to mind. And before you can dwell on the thought, his tongue swipes across your lower lip eliciting a gasp that grants him access to your mouth. 

Your muscles begin to relax as you give into the kiss, letting your hands roam up over Sigtryggr's broad shoulders to his head, the stubble from where he’s shaved the sides of his head prickling your fingers. The heat building at the apex of thighs begins to throb as the intensity and desperation between the two of you begins to climax. Fuck, you want him so badly that you’d drop your panties right now and let him fuck you against the brick wall, onlookers be damned. So what if you end up in jail or in the paper tomorrow? Sigtryggr is fucking hot and so worth it. 

 You find yourself leaning forward onto your toes, eyes still shut, when Sigtryggr’s lips suddenly disappear from yours, desperate for another taste of the bourbon laced with iron on his tongue. “Finished already, my love?” he asks. 

No, of course you’re not fucking finished with him. You two have only just gotten started, the heat pooling in your belly begging to be relieved by either his cock or one of those long ring-clad fingers of his. 

Your eyes pop back open when your back hits the cool bricks, breaking you from your daze like having a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. Sigtryggr’s hand rests gently on your shoulder, holding you firmly in place as you follow his gaze, finding the chestnut-haired angelic vixen from earlier striding towards you as she licks her fingers.

And that’s when you clock the glittering gold ring with a deep burgundy stone shaped like a flower, looking oddly… familiar. Then like a flash of a lightbulb turning on, it comes to you; it matches the gold one that you had written off as just a family heirloom of Sigtryggr’s …like a coordinated set…both rings looking straight out of the early medieval section at the museum and worn on their left ring fingers… Then another headlight from a car passing by illuminates the two strangers; alright, they definitely are dressed like vampires…a matching costume…because they’re married. They are most definitely married. 

Fuck, you didn’t know that they both are married, let alone married to each other. But, the vixen practically pushed you into Sigtryggr’s lap, hadn’t she? Or maybe she was talking about a different stranger? And that wink had nothing to do with the promise she had asked you to make in the bathroom? 

Either way, you open your mouth to apologize, but the vixen beats you to it, her melodic voice gaining a vicious edge to it as she says, “Tasted too much like coke and fuck boy for my liking. But, I think she’ll taste much sweeter on my tongue.” 

“Too bad I’ve already claimed her for the evening,” Sigtryggr answers. 

“I saw her first. And you don’t mind sharing, do you?” Sigtryggr’s palms slide up and down your waist now, but it does nothing to help the fear rising inside of you as they both stare you down like two ravenous predators. Oh.. so the vixen meant that question for you. 

You gulp, eyes shifting between the two of them as you sputter, “I-Are you two divorced?” Because, they have to be…right? It feels like the only explanation for what’s happening.. and shit, the vixen most definitely could kill you in a heartbeat.

“Nah that’s on my agenda for next century.” 

Sigtyggr’s head whips towards his wife faster than an elastic snapping back into place. “What?” 

“I’m kidding, sheesh,” says the vixen with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I file for divorce once when women finally earned the right when we were already due to update our marriage license and he’s still so fucking sensitive about it, as if we have not been together for the last millennia.”  Damn, they have a backstory for their costumes and everything. They must really fucking love halloween…or roleplaying…or both. Alright, so maybe being swingers isn’t totally out of the realm of possibility here…  

“My wife, the drama queen.” 

“And you fucking love it.” 

“I do.” Then suddenly, Sigtryggr begins conversing with his wife in a dialect you don’t recognize, some Scandinavian language probably. 

And that’s when you put together who they are or rather what they are… the eerily ancient rings, the pure perfection of their appearances, their enticing scents, the old yet modern ways in which they speak, the iron on your tongue…. 

Your thumb brushes over your lower lip, coming away clean. The only blood you can see on Sigtryggr is on his - yeah no, that’s definitely real blood on his clothes. And the vixen’s lips? Definitely not still stained from the cocktail… Plus those hyper-realistic over exaggerated canines are not some weird cosmetic surgery either…These aren’t some silly costumes.. Nor are they history fanatics or family heirloom hoarders…  They are history. They are…. vampires. 

But not just any vampires either. You’ve heard about a million different versions of the legend of the undead King and Queen of York, more frequently as of late due to the season. Some hail the hauntingly beautiful young woman in front of you as the secret Queen of York, Sihtric Caech’s true love and mistress whom all his children were truly sired through, his marriage to Eadgyth only political. Others believed she is King Athelstan’s sister but changed her name along with Sigtryggr as to not raise suspicion when they are believed to be dead. But your absolute favorite version of the myth told the story of a king so distraught, driven mad even, by the death of his first wife that he sold his soul to Hel in exchange for an eternal life with her. 

The beat of your heart begins to thrum in your ears, something deep inside of your urging to take the opportunity to run. But instead, your feet stay firmly in place, too mesmerized by the way the mated pair in front of you toys the line of arguing and flirting, expressions shifting between teasing smiles and exasperated eye rolls as the two lovers quarrel. A flash of light from the headlights of a car reflect off the undead queen’s pearl white teeth momentarily when she smiles making your breathing halt as she looks like some demonic mix of angel and monster. 

Monster. Right. Vampire. Right. 

Their lovers quarrel continues with you now certain it’s over who gets to sink their teeth into your neck then suck you dry till you’re just a cold limp corpse on the ground. Your chest begins to rise and fall thrice as fast as its previous pace. Vampires. They’re vampires, idiot. And what do vampires eat? Dumb little humans who fall for their charm…. You need to leave. Now. Before you become their next meal. 

A puff of dust erupts from the brick wall as a loud cracking sound that can only come from cement (or maybe bones?) splitting  echoes across the alleyway at the same time Sigtryggr emits a low primal growl from deep within his chest as he pins his wife to the structure. Your heels pop off the ground momentarily, but more from the suddenness of the gesture; honestly the motion should have terrified both you and the queen with its intensity. But while the vixen just giggles playfully at her husband, you feel the deep ache from earlier make itself at home between your thighs once again. Worst of all, you’re stuck ogling at them once more as the vixen takes Sigtryggr's bottom lip between her teeth, urging his lips to meet hers….

Right. Fuck. Vampires. Fuck. Want to eat you…even if they are hot and so lost in their lust for one another that you feel that pang of jealousy a second time that evening. So lost… they don’t even know you’re there anymore. So lost… they won’t even notice if you leave! Which you should definitely do…Now! 

Your feet finally begin to move beneath you as you attempt to tiptoe away from them, slowly turning towards your exit. But just as you think you’re free, your ankle begins to roll.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! They will definitely hear you eating shit on the pavement. Once again - fuck, your best friends and their insistence on stilettos with cobble stone. But before the edge of your foot even fully makes contact with the pavement, a firm grip lands on your shoulder, steadying you. Of course they fucking noticed before it even happened, even heard it happening, enhanced abilities and reflexes be fucking damned.

You still turn your head back over your shoulder even though you know exactly whose hand has just saved you from embarrassment. “Careful there. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt before we’re done with you, ” says the vixen with a wink. 

“Are y-you going to kill me?” you manage to stutter out. 

“Oh no, you're too pretty for that. We took care of that earlier anyways. We just want to have fun with you.” 

Fun?! What could they mean by fun other than killing you? What the fuck do vampires do to have fun? “Like go to an arcade or something?” 

“Were you planning on going to an arcade with my husband?” Shit, you said that last part out loud didn’t you? And no, you were planning to fu- Oh. OH. 

“So what will it be a yes or a no? My dear husband said I’m not allowed to make the decision for you, but you better —” 

“Stiorra,” the undead king chides. So, that’s the vixen’s name…Seems fitting for her as well. 

“So, if my answer is yes, how does this work? Are we taking turns or something? I mean he’s your husband so obviously you get first cho-” 

“Oh, don’t flatter my husband. He’s not the one being shared. It’s you.” Oh, fuck. You definitely did not see that in the cards for tonight.. And then Stiorra answers the question you didn’t even realize you still had, “Together.” 

Together…like a…like a threesome. Oh….Oh. “Yeah, I think that uh..I think that’s fine.” You say trying to hide the giddiness building inside of you. Isn’t the saying that everything can be solved with a threesome? 

Stiorra turns to her husband, a look that can only be categorized as ‘I-told-you-so’ clear across her features as he remarks, “Well, lille elskede, my wife gets her way once again.”

“No, that doesn’t fit her at all. She’s our…our lille dukke.” 

Not even fifteen minutes later, you’re tucked against Stiorra’s lithe frame, already feeling reluctant at having to eventually detach yourself from the warmth she provided you on the walk from the club to their apartment. Their flat is unsurprisingly the penthouse suite; what else would you do with a millennia worth of savings?

“This is your place?” Fuck, what another dumb fucking question. Did Sigtryggr not just use a key to open the door? 

“Quaint isn’t it? Wanted something more discreet and cozy as we’re here so infrequently and mostly for business.” Sure, the place could be considered quaint if you are used to mansions and castles - oh, right, you may not have confirmed it officially, but you’re still certain that they have to be the undead king and queen. 

You humbly accept Stiorra’s offer of water as your eyes scale the vaulted ceilings, the silvery white glow of the moon shining through the skylights. But, your time exploring their apartment is cut short as Stiorra practically yanks you down the hall, not even stopping when her fingers curl into the collar of her husband’s shirt to drag him along too. 

Their bedroom hosts a beautiful espresso-colored ornate four-poster bed (probably a California king) garnished with what looks like the most luxurious, soft, plush linen set in a deep navy that you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. The bright overhead light coming from a beautiful gold and crystal chandelier blinds you briefly before dimming down to a soft warm glow, just enough that you can see them clearly. Well, there’s clearly no time to run now seeing as you’ve officially ventured into the lions den. 

Butterflies dance in your stomach as the anticipation for the evening peaks inside of you. Your grip on the heavy crystal glass in your hands tightens as your hand begins to tremor. Sure, this might not be your first time, but it is your first threesome with thousand-year-old vampires who most definitely know what they are doing when it comes to pleasure. 

But then a gentle hand brushes the hair away from your shoulders, tickling the delicate skin there in the most delightful way. You turn towards the sensation, your eyes meeting the deep chocolate brown of Stiorra’s who beams at you like an angel as her husband trails kisses along her neck. 

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” The sweetness and sincerity in her musical voice soothes the trepidation inside of you, just enough that you take the step forward towards her to close the distance. The glass in your hands gets passed to Sigtryggr, disappearing almost like magic (though really it only seems that way as you’re too busy worrying your lower lip as you become enchanted by Stiorra’s beauty once more). 

Then finally, her lips are on yours, gentle and soft - like she’s easing you into the evening ahead. The taste of sweet maraschino cherries overpowers the lingering bits of iron from her earlier meal, but it’s the way her feather-light touch skims over your frame that makes you wobble at the knees. For a moment, it’s just the two of you underneath the most glorious clear night sky, the kind of night where you can see the milkyway in all its different shades of blues, purples, greens and grays. 

And oh my god, the way her tongue runs over the seam of your lips has you daydreaming about how glorious it might be to have her wield it between your thighs. She giggles when you whimper into her mouth, hands fumbling into her hair as you attempt to pull her as flush to you as possible. But instead, she shifts beneath your touch till one of your hands lands on something much harder, like granite. 

Your eyes flutter open, unveiling the new placement of your hand. Sigtryggr lifts your chin, pulling you towards him as your lips meet for the second time that evening. You can taste his wife on his lips and the faint remnants of bourbon. Melting into his touch, you lean forward onto your tiptoes as you pull him closer, nails digging into the sides of his head. 

A sharp nip at your neck has you inhaling sharply, but only for a moment as seconds later, your head begins to fall back as a tongue sweeps over the tender area. As you relish in the feeling, one of your companion's hands slides up across your stomach till it lands on one of your breasts. Your back arches, pressing yourself further into their touch as they begin to knead the soft mound. Then a moan trembles of your lips when fingers find your nipple through the thin fabric of your tank top and bra giving the hardened nub a sudden twist. 

The sensations halt suddenly, a little whine coming from your throat as you hear the beginnings of a belt buckle loosening. Stiorra stands directly between you and her husband now. You watch, fingers brushing over your now tender and slightly swollen lips, as Stiorra quite literally rips away the king’s shirt, hands exploring the smooth muscle of his rock solid six pack then slowly descending lower and lower till one slips down past the waist band of his boxers. 

Sigtryggr’s head hits the wall behind him with a loud thud as he groans his wife’s name. You swear you hear her smirk right before she falls to her knees in front of him. And then there it is… just as rock solid as his abs…Fuck, he’s big. The queen runs her hand up and down the length of the steel rod, stopping every so often to brush her thumb over the tip or give a little kitten lick to the underside as Sigtryggr steps his way out of his remaining garments. Arousal pools between your legs, yearning to know what it feels like to have the king’s cock sheathed inside of you….or even just get a taste. 

And then as if she can read your mind, Stiorra pulls you down next to her. “You want a taste of my husband’s cock, don’t you?” That playful little smirk of hers that promises nothing but trouble appears again after you somehow manage to nod while picking your jaw up off the floor as she adds, “He likes it when you take him deep.” 

Sigtryggr’s fingers rake through his wife’s hair in a sweet but possessive way as he commands, “You’re going to need to show her, my love.” 

His thumb then presses at the hinge of her jaw, till her mouth falls open for him. Your mouth begins to water to the point where you might be drooling as you watch the king slowly guide his member into the mouth of the queen then keeps going…and going…and going… till only an inch or so remains. 

Sigtryggr's hips rock forward as Stiorra remains still as a statue, eagerly and easily taking her husband’s cock in her mouth like it’s the simplest gesture in the world. Even when he holds her at the deepest point for a few long seconds, she hardly flinches. And, it’s not until he pulls her off him with a swift tug of her hair that the queen makes any noise beyond the muffled garbled noises from having her husband’s dick shoved down her throat. But even looking positively wrecked from her husband throat fucking her, the queen is still as radiant as ever, now just with mussed hair, rosy cheeks, and glistening lips. 

The soft mewling sounds emanating from Stiorra quickly morph into soft purrs when Sigtryggr’s hand moves to cup his wife’s throat. Her gaze then flicks towards you, deep brown eyes now blown an onyx color, a wicked grin plastered on her face. She reaches out to you, brushing your hair off your shoulder before wrapping her hand around your jaw. Then slowly, the queen begins to guide the king’s cock into your mouth inch by inch. 

“That’s a good girl,” she praises as her fingers brush through your hair, slowly bobbing your head up and down for you. “Just like that.” 

Tears brim your eyes as Sigtryggr fucks you, each thrust hitting the back of your throat. Your nails dig into his arse, eager to please him just as his wife had done. Though, there’s no way you can do what she did, only able to tolerate most of his length. A growl emanates from low in Sigtryggr’s throat as he pulls himself all the way out. 

Air fills your lungs, your following gasp a little too loud for your liking. But neither one of your companions seem to notice as Stiorra leans into the hand that strokes her head, gleaming like an obedient pet whose just been praised for good behavior. There’s genuine love in the way Sigtryggr looks back at her, but there’s pride there too. It’s the kind of affection you only see between two people who would stop at nothing but to give the world to one another, so unbreakable that even death would only seem to be a new beginning, like a gateway to eternity. 

With one more deep inhale and a lick of your lips, you return to the work you started, this time relying more on your tongue as you run it underneath the entirety of his length then swirl it around the tip. The milky white bead his cock weeps burns your throat slightly when you swallow it. But, you ignore the slight discomfort, desperate to please in hopes of having the ache that now throbs between your thighs quelled by one of them…or both of them…really whatever they want to do. 

A delicate hand lands on your shoulder, then tugs backwards ever so slightly, just enough that you know they’re asking you to stop. Together, the three of you migrate to the bed, where Stiorra immediately shoves her husband onto his back. The mattress has a little give to it as you crawl on top of it, preparing to take Sigtryggr’s cock again. But just as you get into position, a vice grip entraps your ankle then yanks you towards the head of the bed. 

The sound of fabric tearing fills the room for a moment, the remnants of your lace thong fluttering to the floor. Then the king’s tongue is running up and down the length of your seam. You fall forward onto your hands, a moan immediately trembling off your lips…Fuck. Never in your life could you have imagined sitting on top of one the hottest men to ever exist as he wields his tongue in ways you did not ever think are even possible and yet…here you are….

Slow teasing passes turn into more deliberate strokes, then small flicks till Sigtryggr is narrowing his focus onto the small pearl at the apex of your sex. You peel your tank top off of yourself, desperate to have every inch of you touched as you ride the king’s face. When Sigtryggr suddenly groans against you - likely from the way the queen continues her magic on him at the base of the bed - your walls begin to tighten, inching closer and closer to reaching your high. 

It’s all over for you once he slips two fingers inside your cunt, teasing the second most sensitive point of your womanhood. Your chest rises and falls, faster and faster as an electrifying tingle begins to spread out from your core to the tips of your toes. And when your high finally comes, you cry out the king’s name, panting as you whole body begins to tremble. 

“Seems like our lille dukke is enjoying herself,” Stiorra muses as Sigtryggr moves you beside him, all while a rush of heat stains your cheeks crimson. Had you really been that loud? 

“Do I sense a bit of jealously, my love?” The king says as his hand makes lazy sweeps over Stiorra’s thigh. 

“Only that you got to taste her first.” 

Then like a lioness on the prowl, the queen crawls on top of her husband. Now clad in only a delicate black lace full lingerie set, a singular piece probably costing more than your entire outfit, you gawk at the vixen as if she is prey being served to you on a platter, wishing to roam your hands all over her lithe frame. Alas, it’s the king who receives that honor first. 

Your arousal still clings to Sigtryggr’s lips and barely-there stubble as Stiorra captures her husband’s lips with her own, grinding herself against him. But she does not just clean his face of you, taking her husband’s fingers still glistening from your cunt into her mouth as she sucks them clean, a motion that immediately reignites your heady need to be ravished by the two of them. 

Sigtryggr’s hands palm at Stiorra’s arse then slowly roam up over her back, the straps her bra falling forward off her shoulders from the force of the elastic snapping open. Then, it falls to the floor as the two mates continue to relish in each other’s touch, making you start to wonder if your time with them is over.

You’d already gotten much more than you had initially expected, thinking you’d mostly be pleasuring them rather than the other way around. But just as you’re ready to slip away, Stiorra sets her sights on you, the breathtaking lioness cornering you like prey. 

You taste yourself on her tongue as she rids you of your bra, hands massaging your sensitive mounds. Kisses then skate down across your neck, over past your collar bone, till she takes one of your pebbled nipples into her mouth. Your back arches into her as you pull her closer, your body aching for her to unravel you. A mewling noise releases itself when a couple of her fingers slip past your folds, dipping briefly into your cunt, your whimpers only growing louder when she pulls her digits away. 

“I think someone’s ready for you, Sig.” 

Then like she’s your lady-in-waiting, Stiorra helps you straddle her husband. You whimper again as the tip of Sigtryggr’s cock slides against your slickness, then slowly slips into you. Just like the queen had guided your head when your first took Sigtryggr into your mouth, she guides your hips, lifting you up and down. Your head falls back, the fullness alone driving you mad. But, it’s when Stiorra’s singular digit begins to draw circles over the hooded bundle of nerves that you start moaning out both their names. 

Sigtryggr’s hands replace Stiorra’s in roaming your body, fingers occasionally tweaking your nipple or sliding over your pearl as you ride the king. As you surrender to the slow build, your teeth sink into your lower lip, watching the queen slip her panties off her long curvaceous legs. 

Stiorra’s thumb brushes tenderly across her husband’s forehead as she places a gentle kiss to his lips. Fuck. If you were anywhere else, you’d be getting your camera out at how adorable the two of them look. It’s the kind of love you hope to find one day, one that earns the title of the greatest love story ever written or recorded. 

A growl reverberates from deep within Sigtryggr’s chest suddenly, as his hands fly to his wife’s hips, pulling her up on top of his face just as you had been early. Stiorra hums, grinding herself down against her husband's mouth. Then her chocolate brown eyes are on you again. 

She leans forward, a wildness alight on her features as she pulls your face close to hers. The kiss she gives you sends butterflies flipping in your stomach with its gentleness, almost like she’s telling you that she cares about you too. Your fingers lace through her silken hair, the scent of vanilla and roses overwhelming you once more. God, you could kiss this vixen for hours. 

Then, fuck, there’s that sharp twinge of pain mixing with waves of pleasure as the Queen suckles at your pulse point. A warmth trickles down your neck, bright droplets of cherry red dripping down Stiorra’s lips onto Sigtryggr’s chest. Her grin spreads across her face when you offer her your wrist next, needing to feel that sensation over and over again. She takes it eagerly, savoring a few mouthfuls before placing your hand back over your clit where she helps you draw small quick circles. 

A loud smack sounds through the room, though Stiorra only smirks, removing herself from her husband’s face. Then Sigtryggr lifts you off, like your weight is equal to a feather, before positioning you onto all fours as he climbs behind you.

“You’ve been greedy tonight, my love.”

Stiorra guffaws. “You started it. Besides, she tastes sweeter than candy.” 

“Perhaps, it’s time I take a taste as well.” 

Then for a moment, your back is flush to Sigtryggr's chest, his teeth sinking into you as he finally takes a taste. You shudder beneath Sigtryggr's touch, head lolling back onto the his shoulder as he drinks from you.  Another sharp pang at your wrist sends your eyes flying open, catching the reflection of the three of you in the windows. Sigtryggr’s hands explore every inch of your naked body, kneading and massaging his way up and down. Every nerve is on fire as you stare breathlessly at the reflected image, inciting a frenzy inside of you. But, it’s when the king and queen’s blood-tinged lips meet in a messy kiss as they share the taste of you that your core goes molten. 

You cry out as Sigtryggr suddenly sheaths himself inside of you, your hands somehow managing to catch you before you face plant. His pace is faster than yours had been, hips snapping into you over and over again. Moan after moan rolls of your lips, one after another, growing louder as every thrust hits you deeply, right at the second most sensitive spot of your cunt. 

The queen moves in front of you, her legs opening up to you as she puts her womanhood on display like an invitation to the most decadent meal. You lick your lips, leaning closer and closer till your head just hovers above her center. One of the queen’s hands threads into your locks, gently stroking across your scalp; she wants you too. 

Your first taste of Stiorra is sweet yet salty, twinged with the same acidity you had tasted on Sigtryggr, like it’s not quite meant to be experienced by humans. You dive in anyways, your tongue swiping up and down her seam, eyes flickering back up every so often to ensure that what you’re doing pleases the queen. Stiorra keeps her hand intertwined in your hair, tingles spreading from your head to your toe as she massages your scalp. Then, she finally hums when you spread her folds to kitten lick at her nub. 

You pause suddenly, spotting Sigtryggr’s hand reaching forward as his lust-ridden voice says, “She likes it when you’re mean.” Then his fingers pinch at her pebbled nipple, twisting it in a way that can only seem a little painful. “Don’t you, my love?” 

For the first time that evening, you truly hear the queen roar with pleasure as her back arches off the mattress, chest pressing further into her husband’s palm. With your new instructions, you return to your work, eager to make the vixen purr just as her husband had done. And when your nail accidentally scrapes at Stiorra’s pearl, you begin to piece together what the king had meant for you to do. 

Alternating between sweet strokes and small nips, Stiorra begins to squirm beneath your touch as her body sings for you. All the while, your own body begins to inch closer and closer to the edge, walls beginning to flex against Sigtryggr’s cock as he continues to fuck you. Your peak comes suddenly like a wave crashing over you, your whole body clenching then releasing in the most delicious way, barely able to continue your work with the queen. 

Sigtryggr carries you through your orgasm, letting you ride out every ounce of it till you’re a breathless mess. Then with a sigh, his movements halt suddenly, “I’m close, my love.” 

Like a trained pet, Stiorra’s legs snap shut as she rolls towards her husband, gently nudging you out of the way. 

With a wink she teases, “Dont want any babies with married man do ya?”

A loud smack reverberates around the room, the bed rattling beneath you so forcibly that you think it might break, when Sigtryggr’s hand lands on his wife’s ass, a slyful smirk on his lips.

But she hardly moves, leaning forward ever so slightly on to her hands as a soft moan escapes her lips. “I think you’re losing your touch,” Stiorra teases, despite her wrecked voice and onyx-blown eyes indicating otherwise. 

Sigtryggr’s teeth sink into Stiorra’s arse, then his head disappears out of sight. Your thighs press together suddenly, hoping the action might hide the way desire now pools out of you as you watch the mated pair. Only seconds pass before Stiorra’s hands fist into the sheets at your feet, her head falling forward. Her shuddered breaths fill the room, slowly growing louder till she can no longer hold herself back, her husband’s name falling off her lips in a cry.

The shine of Stiorra’s cunt glimmers off her husband’s fingers and barely-there beard as he reemerges. Sucking his digits clean, he says, “Still think I’ve lost my touch?”

When the queen arches her back, wriggling her ass at her husband like a mouse being dangled in front of a hungry feline, you think you might shatter right then and there, wishing to both trade places with her and be her undoing. 

Then she says, “Hmm, I think you could learn a thing or two from our lille dukke,” making a rush of heat form beneath your cheeks.  

And by the way Sigtryggr grips his wife’s hips - a way that can only be bone-crushing to a human - then buries his cock inside of her in one quick snap of his hips, you are certain she’s driving him crazy too.

The heat beneath your cheeks deepens to the point that you’re sure if you looked in a mirror right now you’d be scarlet as you watch the king fuck his queen. Sigtryggr’s hands rake into his wife’s hair as he pulls her up against his chest, hips bucking into her at a pace far quicker and harsher than he had been with you. The muscles in his forearm flex beneath his flesh as he holds it flush against the queen’s waist while his other hand moves from her hair to cup her chin, tilting it up and away till he can sink his teeth right beneath her ear. His wife squirms against him, a mewling noise trembling off her lips. 

You inhale sharply, tongue running over your lips as you watch the hand around Stiorra’s neck slowly descend down through the valley between her breasts then across her stomach, only stopping once it has reached the small tiny pearl at the apex of her thighs. Your legs squeeze together even tighter, the slickness of your arousal pooling out of you making your thighs slip against each other instinctually as you try to quell the throb you feel in your cunt.  

One of Stiorra’s arms snakes up behind her husband’s head, pulling him down towards her till their noses brush. There’s a tenderness in the way she kisses him, like it’s meant to show love not passion. More importantly, it’s clear as day now that they’re done with you with the way the two mates hold each other’s gazes, lost in their love and lust for one another once more.  

Somehow you manage to will yourself to move, needing to force yourself to look anywhere else but at them before your drool drips onto the sheets. But just when you’ve swung one leg over the edge of a bed, a delicate hand wraps around your wrist, then a voice that sounds prettier than a bird song floats over your ears. “Oh, don’t think we’re finished with you just yet.” 

Stiorra falls back onto her palms like a feline, releasing the grip of your wrist in favor the ankle still on the bed. Then before you can process what she’s doing, her hands pin your knees to the mattress, putting your glistening cunt on display. 

“I think somebody wishes we were rougher with her,” the queen smirks. 

Heat flushes your cheeks again, but your bashfulness is only short-lived for the queen’s tongue licking your inner thigh clean of your slickness as she trails closer to your center has you seeing stars. Unlike her husband, she plays with you, taking her sweet time as she nibbles and flicks her tongue anywhere but where you seek it most. A musical amused giggle tickles your flesh, causing your hips to buck a second time; the first having been when the queen suddenly sank her teeth into your thigh. 

A loud smack sounds through the air at the same time Stiorra jolts. “Play nice with our lille dukke,” Sigtryggr’s husky voice chides. 

You catch Stiorra pouting as she looks over her shoulder to her husband whose palm twitches against her ass, his pointed look promising trouble if she continues with her antics. Then with a dramatic eye roll, the queen starts to lower herself onto her forearms, as if she’s finally about to give you what you need. 

But just as you feel her warm breath against your folds, you stutter, “No it’s - it’s okay. I kinda liked it.” 

Stiorra gleams brighter than a neon sign, a smile that can only promise wicked things pulling at the corners of her mouth. Then after a quick flash of her tongue at her husband, she begins to reward you for your confession. 

Kitten-licks to the small bead at the apex of your sex turn to quick tight circles as you begin to fall a part beneath the queen’s touch. Your back arches off the silken sheets, gripping them so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The queen’s name trembles off your lips and just when you start to see fireworks, she plunges two fingers inside of your cunt. Together with her tongue, Stiorra's fingers curl and pit patter inside of you bringing you higher and higher. You begin to tremble beneath her touch, toes curling while you beg for your release till finally, every nerve explodes with pleasure as your third little death completely destroys you. 

Your body goes limp as your peak comes crashing back down, chest rising and falling at a slower and slower rate as a warm hum begins to spread throughout your limbs. Never once in your life have you felt so satiated by a sexual encounter…felt so alive. 

When you finally find the energy (and will) to push up to your elbows, you find an endearing sight in front of you. The queen has her legs wrapped around the king’s waist as her hands cradle his head, kisses swallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure. Fuck, they even make finishing together look straight out of a twisted Hallmark movie as they whisper sweet nothings to each other. They really couldn’t be any more of a perfect couple. 

Moments later, Stiorra lands on the bed next to you looking like a giddy preteen about to have her first sleepover party as she kneels at your side. You catch the towel Sigtryggr tosses your way, wiping your body as clean as a dry towel will allow as Stiorra's hands run through your hair. 

“Can we keep her? Please?” Stiorra begs, stroking your forehead like you’re a…like you’re her new doll. 

“It’s not up to us, my love.” 

Stiorra rolls her eyes at her husband again then bites her wrist and offers it to you. “It’ll help you heal faster.” 

You nod, apprehensively bringing her wrist to your mouth. A rush of warmth flows over your tongue like you’re drinking warm honey instead of blood. You whimper when the wrist disappears suddenly, depriving you of the sweet nectar, only for a larger slightly rougher wrist to replace it as Stiorra grumbles, “Hey!” 

“My blood’s stronger,” Sigtryggr teases, a smacking sound presumably coming from his wife shortly following the jab. “Alright, that’s enough lille dukke. Don’t want to bleed us dry.” 

A sheepish grin tugs at the corners of your lips as Stiorra tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Such a good lille dukke.” Then with a sigh, she pulls back the covers. “Come let’s get you to sleep.” 

You open your mouth to protest, insist that you take a cab back to your flat, only to feel the rush of exhaustion weigh down your eyelids. You have your location shared with your friends. Plus, Sigtryggr and Stiorra don’t seem to want to murder you…yet. So perhaps, staying the night isn’t the worst idea in the world. With a yawn, you slip underneath the covers where Stiorra nestles herself between you and her husband, pulling you close to her as your scalp begins to tingle from her fingers stroking through your hair. Then, only moments later you succumb to the sweetest slumber. 

The bed is empty except for yourself when your eyes flutter open the next morning. A sharp pang pierces your heart as you look around the room searching for them. You’d think it had all been dream had you not woken up in someone else’s apartment. With a mournful sigh, your toes flex against the wooden floor as you push yourself to stand then go searching for whatever remains of your clothing. And that’s when you see it - a small pile of clothes and shoes that are not yours, a paper bag, a danish pastry, and a small note written in the most elegant calligraphy you have ever laid eyes upon: 

“Our driver will take you home whenever you’re ready to leave, just let the doorman know. We hope to hear from you soon, lille dukke.” 

Then in a slightly less elegant hand-writing, an addendum: 

“PS - Keep the clothes. I have plenty. What remains of yours are in the bag.” 

[arcanemadman]

The Castlevania franchise feels like it's getting more and more divided since Netflixvania started and it's getting really bloody frustrating to the point that while watching Nocturne I've felt disquieted, and I think I've realised why that is.

It's the fucking DmC:Devil May Cry white hair fiasco all over again.

For those that don't know, when the DmC reboot was revealed people had a lot of criticism, including turning Dante from a cool but likeable hero into a foul mouthed smoker, the dumbing down of the gameplay, the antagonism towards the fanbase, and turning his iconic white hair black. Of all these criticism, only the hair colour change was given any attention, painting the fan base in a very negative light and side stepping the real issues people had by only focusing on the cherry rather than the whole sundae.

All this attention directed towards something that in the grand scheme of things is very minor but it gets all the attention while the bigger stuff is ignore.

Yes, there are people mad about the show for racist reasons and they shouldn't be listened to, but there are genuine complaints that are being swept up with that.

The character changes have a sort of domino effect on everything. Maria being a serious revolutionary is interesting, but I saw someone put it best that what made her special was the fact that she was a little girl in a world of classic horror that believed she was in a fairy tale and had the power to force that reality on everyone else. Netflix Maria is good, but lacks the charm of Maria.

The second example is Juste. When I saw him I was very excited, but that was mainly because it was acknowledgement of the original canon than anything else. His magical prowess, the thing that makes him stand out among the Belmont linage, is mentioned and then brushed aside, and the worst ending of his game is what is taken as canon. And once Richter gets his magic back, Juste is gone. He feels like a plot point rather than the character. I sympathise with people who's favourite game was Harmony of Dissonance.

Annette was a compelling character with a well developed story, but anyone that says her original characterisation would never work are being disingenuous because they literally did that, except that did so with Tera. The connections to Richter and Maria, the damsel elements, the fact she gets turned into a vampire, all from Annette. Swapping them around wouldn't work for multiple reasons and I'm not going to say I can do better than people you get paid to write when I don't, but I feel I can say that if they had wanted to they could have done something closer to the original while still touching on the themes and narratives they wanted to.

Olrox... honestly the only criticism I can really think of is the removal of any reference to Count Orlock.

There's an elitism with both sides of the fanbase here. On the Netflix side, there's the feeling that since theirs is more popular that any criticism is because people are just nostalgic, and game fans feel that since theirs is the original foundation that anyone that doesn't agree with them is just a new fair-weather fan. And honestly, I'm more sympathetic to the game fans.

I've seen Netflixvania fans look at people complaining that the character have changed and go "yeah well the version you like sucks so you should just grow up" As if that's going to make everything better. And all the people complaining about the race changes or posting "WOKE?!?!?!" have poisoned the well for any actual discussion about this, not helped by the social media accounts deliberately stoking the flames in the mistaken belief that all publicity is good publicity, which raised the ire of nexflixvania creators. Unfortunately marketing can often be removed from the intentions of the creators.

Yes, Netflixvania is a great show, with beautiful animation and great storytelling, but it's not perfect and as an adaptation is leaves a lot to be desired. And that's the crux of it! The show is good, really good! But it doesn't feel like an adaptation of Castlevania. It's just a bunch of little details that pile up to make it less of what the game fans liked about the series. It's more grimdark horror than classic horror. It's more crude than it is philosophical. It's more hopeless than it is hopeful. And regardless of what you individually think, that's what people have liked about Castlevania for almost 40 years.

Ultimately I just have to ask, why do people seem to assume that you can't make a faithful adaptation while also making it interesting? They're not mutually exclusive.

[goldberrg]

here I am

summery : The sweet growl of the Camaro engine, Scorpions in the radio and a downpour outside the window.

Just a couple of hours ago, the gray of a stormy day was only behind a thick layer of glass of the tutor's cozy house — the ease of the atmosphere was accompanied by the measured ticking of the wall clock, the teacher's mumbling and the slightly nasty whisper of a pen wandering on paper. The dull walks of the wind outside the walls of the house, the raindrops lazily spreading over the windows — everything was tolerable, even lullingly pleasant, until the long-distance highway and the sidewalk banks were covered with small, impulsive rain rushing into the break, like a marathon running, and puddles splashed underfoot.

The evening, already coming early, unpredictably driving the sun away from its usual place, stealthily crept up, covering the purple sky with a gloomy bluish blanket. Heavy rain clouds poured generously over the road and therefore the gray asphalt lost its paint, but at the same time it shone fabulously, either because of the rarely winking lanterns, or because of a tiny piece of the moon peeking out of a crack between the mourning fir trees and the untouched sky. The dancing lights of the moonlight raced forward, especially trembling when the trampling of your soaked sneakers seemed to break a twitchy line on the water, interrupting the harmony of the rain noise with squelching. Sighing heavily, you quickened your pace, keeping the hope that the road to the house would somehow shorten, but the nose tingling from the cold and the fingers of your hands, noticeably pink at the seeds, similar to a cherry seed, said otherwise.

Walking towards the wind, you feel its cold, nimble stripes creep under your clothes, paw your neck and even reach your back, which makes you shiver with shoulders, clutching the bag to my chest. Because of the pounding hooves of the autumn rain and your own heavy breathing, you barely catch the flirtations of tree branches rubbing against each other, turning black from their own shadow and the gloom of the evening.

But suddenly you stopped in horror. Behind you, the screeching of a car was clearly heard, then the flickering of low headlights outlined your image on the road.. it seemed that something terrible was happening, knocking you off balance, but as soon as the sharp wings of the car approached, everything fell into place. The terrible screeching sound was replaced by a sweet combination of the gentle purring of the engine and the multiple tapping of drops on the metal roof. The music escaping from the case subsided for a moment, as if allowing you to hear the door open. Retreating a step, you duck, immediately recoiling a couple more steps, plunging into confusion.

— Come on, I'll give you a ride. — Billy, reaching from the driver's seat to the door, opened it in front of you, giving you a moonlight smile. — Or should I leave you? — large pupils, dark as night, with a questioning glimmer, as if stolen from plush toys, stared at you, and the guy who snorted with his nose, noticing your restraint, begins to hurry.

Barely opening your mouth, you awkwardly get into the car. You slam the door and immediately rest your palms on the console of the car — a slight jitters envelops your whole body, you light up on Billy, but immediately close my eyes, patiently waiting for the water to quickly drain from your face. It turns out that the evening was quiet. Everything, though worried about the rain, was already getting ready for bed, where gray darkness was already waiting for them. And only the car raced smoothly along the road — the growl of the engine was so sweet, the long guitar solo tearing from the radio was just as awkward, because the peculiar silence created was more disgusting than the hair sticking to the skin. In your own breathing, still trembling from walking fast, you hear tension, your hands do not come off the console, my feet are pressed into the floor and you, afraid to make the car seat even wetter, do not even lean back against it. Swallowing a lump of air in your throat, you look at Billy again, calmly holding one hand on the steering wheel, and the other, affectionately holding a smoldering cigarette with two fingers, at his raised lips. Acrid smoke, as if not knowing where to go, then hides behind the aisles of the car, then dimly glowing rises in shreds to the roof.

— Thank you very much. — adjusting your glasses, which have transferred all your weight to the tip of your nose, you mutter hesitantly, glancing at the guy. — Well, for giving me a ride.

— Nothing serious. — the words, like smoke, exhale easily and serenely. The eyelids rise heavily, which makes the face outlined with curly hair become languid, and the freely falling moonlight makes the contented lines creeping from the eyes and cheeks darker.

You don't know exactly how many more monotonous kinds of greenery flew before your eyes, before your soul was warmed by a warmer and friendlier light from the windows of familiar houses — as if getting out of a gloomy world, you find yourself in a fairy tale, which in its own way makes your heart tremble. However, the repeated grinding of the wheels told you that it was time to get out, which is why the excitement almost escapes from your mouth, getting stuck in your throat.

— How can I thank you? — the question sounded quiet, but it doesn't matter, because the guy was ahead of all your thoughts, leaning close to you. You were stunned. Your face burned furiously, turned purple brighter than any expensive fabric, and large drops of sweat, mixing with absolutely fresh rainwater, made your face shine brighter than the eyes that darted to the side, to the other, but in a moment stopped on Billy's face.

— And I asked you not to ask stupid questions. — feeling on your neck how the guy sighs heavily with his nose, you bite your lip, involuntarily stretching your hand between us, it seems, touching the guy's thigh — jeans slide pleasantly, it's worth holding your palm over them. Slow kisses, as if it were planned, bloom on the neck, causing a pleasant tickling, both on the skin and deep inside. A sly laugh is clearly heard in your ears, which makes goosebumps run excitedly through your hands, you arch in your back, yielding closer to the guy, when suddenly he comes off. Only a shameful moment passes, in order for Billy, with a grin in his eyes, to make the music louder and, sweetly opening his lips, whispered. — You blushed a lot, are you already so shy?

The curve of one thick eyebrow indicated that it was not worth giving an answer, but something in his chest anyway.. exploded like a firecracker that almost tore off your fingers. You flinch, squinting and fighting to look away. Too ashamed, too hot, a state on the verge of a little panic, which quickly gives way to numbness — tickling, even frosty, the guy's hand slides along your neck, rises higher, gently stroking the skin and, reaching your chin, trembling innocently, raises his head a little higher. After swallowing, you whisper softly but legibly, touching the guy's broad chest with my fingers.

— You see, it's out of habit.

Just a couple of seconds, stretching like a pitch heated by the sun, allowed you to see your own reflection in your eyes, wet because of the moon and lampposts. You, guided by my gaze and fingers holding your chin, barely reached for the face opposite — at that moment indecision enveloped you in a gloomy fog and you closed your eyes, as if gathering my courage. A wonderful moment and Billy's lips confidently covered yours, slightly swollen, maybe cracked somewhere. In such proximity, you clearly felt a tart residue from cigarette smoke and a burning tingling on the tip of your tongue due to mint candy. It was difficult to respond to the kiss, the desire was too strong just to feel how Billy, having inhaled the pungent smell of everything that can be associated with him, crumples my lips with his sticky lips. The guy's hands walk around the body — affectionate strokes on the back turn into nimbly rising higher, to the head, where the fingers are already burrowing into wet hair, gently sipping them, which leaves your sweet moan in the kiss. You felt like you were in a stream of something fresh and bitter-in an inimitable stream that spread like honey, passing through you, but as if unreal, flowing outside the brain, in the pounding of hearts, rare raindrops on the glass, in the song "Scorpions" rumbling in your ears.

[grimalkinmessor]

I'VE BEEN SHOT @ectoplasmicsoda

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

(Soda you have no idea what you've done help—)

1. Ivy On a Chain Link Fence

2. Nearly True, Pretty Lies

3. Swallow

4. The Perfect Genius of Our Hands and Mouths

5. Cherries

6. Razed

7. Tighten Up Your Noose

8. Come Whiffling Through The Tulgeywood

9. Copper and Gold

10. Churn

11. We Bleed In Perfect Harmony

12. Scorpio

13. Time Travel (L)

14. Time Travel (Mello)

15. Light GONE

16. Scorched

17. Horror Moonriver

18. Selkie Light

19. Lyra

20. Vessel Dabi

21. Fantasy

22. Swan Dive

23. Violet Violence, Spread Your Legs

24. Adventure Time AU

25. Variable

26. Potential

27. Time To Take a Shot

28. Clover

29. Heart Stopper

30. Every Rung of Your Ribs

31. All The Dying

32. The Lacking Art of Subtlety

33. Reverse AU

34. Cut Your Knuckles On My Teeth, Honey, And I'll Bruise Your Knees

35. Gently Go At Dawn

AAAND I'M GONNA STOP THERE BC JESUS CHRIST. This is only three fandoms worth, and only the ones I haven't posted anywhere 😭

I do not have thirty-five people to tag so I'm just gonna,,,, @asmallmoon333 @ghost-malone @willofhounds @brothercrush @lucky-ass-nerd @ohdeadlynightshades @lukewarm-beef-stew @lineli225 @seventhfracture @tswwwit @gh0stbeeee Do my best! And also cheat by inviting literally everyone else that wants to do it you can just say I tagged you :3

[trashcapableofsentience]

okay I can't keep making separate posts about my reactions to this show so

The unsynchronised superhero walk down the corridor to O&D made me chuckle

So did Mark and Burt straight up defecting from the church while still holding Kier as God, Martin Luther is turning in his grave

still haven't learned Mrs selvig's 'innie' name but she has a good singing voice that was a shock to hear

I don't think the break room is going to work this time chief

THE SOLIDARITY OF MARK AND MISS WHATEVER IT'S GREAT

ngl I've skipped over the dates with the midwife because second hand embarrassment but now they're cute?? wtf

also dude don't bring up your ex wife 😭 tbf she started it bringing up kids

THEY'RE ACTUALLY SO CUTE TOGETHER WTF JOKING ABOUT SEVERANCE I LOVE IT

the tense music stopping the moment ricken comes in I bet he never lets anything finish

what the fuck how is Mrs selvig getting this job. WHY is she getting this job. how the fuck does this help lumon. also how does she know what the score is doing

'holy shit is this my house??' Dylan my beloved... ALSO HE HAS A KID!! waaaaa I hope his outtie loves the kid with all his heart

Mark stop involving Alexa in your corporate espionage it may be a cute date idea but I think she deserves better than whatever lumon has in store for her

'no filming you fuck' this better be for not wanting police/lumon to know rather than copyright reasons

LET MARK SAY FUCK YOU LUMON 2K24

and he GETS TO FUCK YEAH

Aw they kissed :) I'm glad outtie Mark is forming some connections

Doug x Harmony hate fucking will happen I prommy

huh they slept together. hope he let her finish unlike ricken

I'm glad Mrs selvig didn't get the phone out the bin like I thought she would

WHAT'S WITH ALL THE ISOMETRIC SHOTS first there was the senator and his wife now it's Mark on the phone why are we mimicking the opening sequence... or was the opening sequence mimicking it?? I don't think so I know that guy he has a lot of isometric stuff in his work

'who is this?' 'uh...' mimicking the handbook, standard response = unknown

'can you meet me now' this is why you don't mix relationships with corporate espionage mark. now Alexa is going to wake up and think you abandoned her in your own house mark. do you want that on your conscience mark

why don't they just fire the mdr employees and get new ones? it would be easier than this secret villain lair door atp

moving swiftly on to ep 7

Why does the school look like it's from the set of 1984?

Is this the chick - WAIT I REMEMBER HER HER MAKEUP WAS SO GOOD IN HELLY'S SURGERY anyway is this the chick harmony and doug are after?

'you brought him into this world without his permission' damn if that isn't every emo kid arguing with their parents

DOUG WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE YOU NASTY ROACH

brutal pipe murder more women should get to murder people mark shut the fuck up and help hide the body

the blood covered card 'now get the fuck out of here' woo I love women

Boy Mark's Petey related PTSD will NOT get better will it that boy's gonna be closing his eyes and seeing The Horrors

Alexa's still in his bed right??

'where were you' Mark don't you dare gaslight her she deserves better than you

'are you okay?' aw Alexa <3 'do you want me to go?' she's so understanding and sweet and ughhhh but also I'm slightly worried there may be a 'woman can fix man' thing happening here

huh he cleaned the business card of blood

Don't dispose of your bloody clothes in the bin mark that's how people get caught

Milchick up at 5am dang does this guy get compensated correctly I sure as fuck hope so this guy may be evil but even evil henchmen deserve dental

Wait is Burt G up at 5am too? Also poor guy went to the break room

'can you tell me his name' DYLAN BABY :( also Zach cherry is such a good actor I loved him in Fallout as well

love how we the audience never get to know the way from the lift to mdr

milchick is so fine idc who reads this

The way Mrs Selvig just slammed that doll on the table 😂

Mrs Selvig... are you feeling compassion??

so mark got depressed and couldn't work... sounds familiar

Dylan stop being homophobic let the old man yaoi yearn

why is milchick wearing something different he's so fineee

Oh Dylan... it's not the same now you know life means something outside...

PLEASEEEEE can we get mark and helly dancing together pleasepleasepleaseplease

why am I attracted to milchick so much. his lil boogie intrigues me to such a degree

why are the disco lights the alarm lights

Dylan literally that picture 'they don't know I have a son'

Milchick so fineeeee wtf and I know irv sees it because he quickly looked the other way

okay nvm I'm scared of this man dancing next to Dylan Dylan darling smack him right now you deserve it FUCK YES HE DID IT

he bit him?? Dang dude metal... weird but understandable

oh no not the music dance experience. anything but the music dance experience.

'he was so happy to see me' I KNOW no one has been that happy to see him

time for ANOTHER. BADASS. HERO. WALK.

Irving really chose love over freedom dang

no one's in the panopticon. dang maybe this is a lesson we should apply to our everyday life or something

irving brushing his moustache to go see his beau. that's it. that's the note.

harmony can be so terrifying if she wants to be. no notes.

o&d having a melon party... Burt got fired didn't he

Oh this is how Irv has to learn 😔

Irv falling in love with everything about Burt... including his outtie... 'I just like you very much'

'Are we being punished?' 'You smug motherfucker' I love Irv go crazy go wild fight the man GET YOUR MAN

THE HANDSHAKE... just make out already it'll be worth it prommy

'Let's burn this place to the ground' IRVING YOU STAR YOU LOVESICK FOOL

mark binge drinking oh darling :(

'I think you're a mess right now' yeah he's drunk and just wants sex good on you Alexa for leaving

If I had a nickel for Zach Cherry being in a show that features oldies-style tunes semi prominently I'd have two nickels

It's about grief and recovering and mental health and loving and the love not having anywhere to go

WHAT THE FUCKKKK GEMMA IS MENTAL HEALTH LADY?? WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

But she she DIED what the FUCK

right it's 1am and I promised I wouldn't stay up too late goodnight but WHAT TBE FHCK

[cherrychan-0110]

They're their father's child.

[aero-sense]

Hello! We're finally at the most exciting part of the play through: the Southern Air Temple! The Gaang stop by a village that used to accommodate the monks. I really like that the game confirms there were communities around the Air Nomads and that the genocide affected them as well.

If you have any interest in the Air Nomads, or Atla's world building in general, I would recommend reading the rest of this post!

This is a detailed playthrough, not a critical review. I'm doing this for fun, not for accuracy.

The Air Temple

So the village is located on one of the islands around the Southern Air Temple. The villagers have a long history living in harmony with air benders. In fact, many aspects of their culture is intertwined on them: they passed down stories of Air Nomads for generations, their mechanical devices were reliant on airbending, and they would maintain gardens for the monks to visit and meditate in.

The village is in a serene location, surrounded by waterfalls and cherry blossoms high in the mountains. It reminds me of the Fire Nation spa that Iroh and Zuko visit in the first episode of B2, which have... unfortunate implications.

There's a windmill that a villager said that only an airbender can fix and I wonder, can air bending permanently shape the environment? Like how water bending can redirect streams and earth bending can shape the landscape, could air bending permanently redirect the wind?

I think it was a dropped plotline in B1 the mystery how the Fire Nation got up the Air Temples. There's plausibly answers why like the dragons, but we never get a confirmed reason why and it's never further explored. However, I think it is implied there is something other than the dragons or whatever technology the FN had then that allowed them to reach the temples.

The parallel of a villager asking for help to repair a statue, a memoir of their sister community, compared to Lian, ready to destroy the remaining untouched relics of the Air Nomads, committing more to their cultural genocide.

The village was also attacked for being in such close proximity to the Air benders. The Fire Nation stole the village's flag to demoralize them. It's also likely that the FN routinely raided the village was to see if they were hiding any Air benders.

It's nice that the community also believes that there might be survivors out there. Unlike Aang's somewhat naive hope that they did, if this village that went through the air nomad genocide themselves believe that they survived, their survival has more credibility.

There's a quest to help a man find his missing mother that disappeared during the winter's solstice. It seems that get stuck in the spirit world is a common phenomenon?

Aang gets horrified and angry seeing the state of the Air Nomad sanctuary. He gets quite talkative, comparing the wreckage to his memory. Guess this confirms Aang had visited this village before too. It's quite sweet his friends help fix the sanctuary.

Cute how when Aang's meditating, all his friends crowd around to watch.

There's an sad owl spirit (no not the one you're thinking of) that resides in the sanctuary, driving off visitors. After fixing up the sanctuary, the owl thanks you, as it can go back to the spirit world. So I guess spirits can get trapped on the other side too?

Even the seeds of the trees are sick with grief for the monks. Something about even the simplest action the Air Nomads did, as visiting the garden, had a lasting effect on the earth that carried on for generations.

This is like the third time! Fishing is the cause of martial troubles!!! Fishermen beware!!1

The way the music and ambience changes completely in the FN ship, like a horror movie. The FN traps include explosives, shooting fire in your face, and trapping you in a sauna that burns you to death.

I haven't given it much focus on the machines but their designs are pretty cool. I like how clunky they are, like they were slapped together last minute, and how they fit into the show's steampunk aesthetic. They have details like the air balloons dragging on the ground in circles, or how the water spouts dig underground to shoot out water.

There's an interesting moment between Haru and Katara that show their differences. Haru has absolute faith in Aang, to the point of overestimating him, and is more concerned what he can do for the endangered villagers. Katara is worried too, but she knows Aang isn't infallible and knows better than anyone that it helps to have a friend to rely on in times of need.

[DS]

Apparently the Air Nomad genocide along with the Fire Nation raids devastated the village to such a degree that they temporarily let their home, and only recently returned.

We get to visit the council room of hanging wisterias that was in the show. It's the same place Aang was told he was the avatar and he found out they were going to send him away.

Now we're finally at the part of the game is what made me start this play through series. There's a special cutscene in the game where Aang laments about his failure for his people and Monk Gyasto's spirit shows up to comfort Aang. They play a game, and Gyasto's happy he got to play with Aang after so long. He tells him not to blame himself for the past and to focus on the world that needs him now. It's a very sweet how the game goes out of it's way to resolve Monk Gyasto and Aang's relationship.

[PSP]

It's nice that there's people relieved to see an air bender as a symbol of hope, a survivor, instead of the avatar.

Apparently the Air Temples used to have many people coming up to visit. They would stop at the village and I imagine that's how they made most of their commerce. Now there would be an odd person every once in a while trying to get to the temple, but it would be incredibly hard and they would come back down with injuries. I assume the Air Nomads would have been the ones to help the visitors up the mountains, likely with their bison, so there's still the mystery how the Fire Nation got up there.

[divnydoodles]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @cherrychan-0110 !!!💗

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, December 6

(Puppet Angel walks dejectedly back to his office) PUPPET ANGEL: Harmony, get my call list. HARMONY: (watches Puppet Angel, confused) Um... (Spike walks toward Harmony's desk.) PUPPET ANGEL: And Spike needs a car. SPIKE: (to Harmony) You heard the puppet.

~~Smile Time~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Good And Evil by badly_knitted (Kendra, Buffy, Angel, PG)

Seeking Ghosts by madimpossibledreamer (Assasin's Creed xover, Xander, T)

Hall Pass by NAOA (Cordelia, Harmony, T)

Fire by TheOriginalLovelace (Buffy/Faith, M)

Moon River by all_choseny (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

age differences by Amina (Buffy/Oz, PG-13, NOTE OZ)

Moon River by all_choseny (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

The Christmas that Spuffy… by Tessa (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Sweet But Twisted. Does that Make Me a Candy Cane? by honeygirl51885 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

The Merry Month of Magnus Presents... Bare Minimum by gwennie (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Chaptered Fiction]

“You Came.” “You Called.” - Ch. 1-2 by FivexFiveB (Blazinwolve) (Faith/OC, not rated)

Beginning's End - Ch. 1 by arcanedreamer (Assassin's Creed xover, Xander, T)

Advent Calendiles - Ch. 4-6 by HAL1500 (drabble collection, Giles/Jenny, G and M)

I'm Only Your Darkness - Ch. 13 by Karnstein99 (Buffy/Faith, E)

High Tide - Ch. 4 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Slay Bells Ringing - Ch. 6 by all_choseny (Buffy/Spike, PG)

A Darkened Night of the Soul - Ch. 22 by In Mortal (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

In The Dark With You - Ch. 25 by Geliot99 (Buffy/Spike, R)

The Courage Of Another - Ch. 6 by BlueZeroZeroOne (Buffy, Legend of Zelda xover, FR15)

High Tide - Ch. 4 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Slay Bells Ringing - Ch. 6 by all_choseny (Buffy/Spike, PG)

Spuffy's Little Helper - Ch. 6 by Alyot (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

A Very Summers Winter - Ch. 6 by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Cherry On Top - Ch. 10 by Maxine Eden (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Gifset: "A Buffy Christmas" by The WB (1998) [TV commercial] by whatisyourchildhoodtrauma (Buffy/Angel, worksafe)

Gifset: I'll show you what a Slayer really is. BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER (1997-2003) by spuffygifs (Buffy, worksafe)

Gifset: Angel the Series | 5x14 "Smile Time" by mycatismyfriend (Puppet Angel, Harmony, Spike, worksafe)

Gifset: BABY I’M YOURS — BARBARA LEWIS by detectivedawnsummers (Willow/Tara, worksafe)

Gifset: buffy, cordelia, & homoerotic confrontations behind the bronze by coffygifs (Buffy/Cordelia, worksafe)

Gifset: And while most of Southern California is enjoying a balmy Christmas... by charmedslayer (Joyce, Faith, worksafe)

Gifset: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER | 3.09 // 6.07 by andremichaux (Cordelia, Buffy, worksafe)

Manip: I Saw Buffy Kissing Santa Claus by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy/Spike, shirtless Spike)

Cross Stitch: Does anyone else cross stitch? I'm working on a Buffy stitchalong! by amethyn (worksafe)

Artwork: Unwrap Your Present by JSBirsa (Spike, NSFW)

[Reviews & Recaps]

btvs rewatch - season 2 episode 9: what's my line, part 1 by slut-jpeg

Spike's wardrobe change... [in S5 E14 - Crush] by jenny-from-the-box

PODCAST: HELLMOUTH HOMOS: Helpless by Fear Queers

PODCAST: ANGEL gives Cordelia an alternate life [Birthday] by Gimmicks

[Fandom Discussions]

Ask Answered: Thoughts on Riley?? And thoughts on season 4 in general?? by xandersrailcrash

... on the horror of not recognizing your own body... [and Angel asks Harmony] if she remembers being human by dear-massacre and lucky-bishop

buffy and cordelia are like. cordelia invites buffy out to the bronze the very first night they meet... by chasingfictions

POLL: Which Buffy character is most likely to fall for a cyber scam? by aphony-cree

The horse Giles rides in season 7.... by anthonyheadwithanimals

Who was your favorite one-off vampire or demon? by HisMrs and others

In HIM, why is it BUFFY'S responsibility to find SPIKE housing? updated by NoShip and thrasherpix

Do you think Buffy would move back into College Room had Joyce lived? updated by NoShip and others

Did you like Giles? updated by NoShip

If you could change anything about a season, what would you change? by george123890yang

Do you think Willow, Xander and Giles felt guilty after Empty Places? by sadhungryandvirgin

How were the witches at Springfield College so bad at magic? by farfetchedfrank

[Alphabet game]... what Giles quotes you guys come up with. Starting with “A” by TransmanDan20

Buffy S6 & S7 [resurrection and Willow accountability] by johnnyorac

Would it have been worth trying to "curse" other Vampires similar to Angel? by Inspirational_Owl

Ancient Art History themes in Buffy TVS by cryptidr_iley24

Spoiler - Buffy and the monks [how was Dawn created] by mandalinajones

ELIMINATION GAME! Day 2. We lose S4! Vote out your LEAST favourite season. [ATS] by WildBarb80s

Wesley suddenly using guns a lot? by trex397

Did Cordelia, Wesley and Fred have siblings? by JellyfishDry9464

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

James Marsters to Attend Austria Comic Con 25-26 May 2024 | @austriacomiccon via dontkillspike

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[vinylspinning]

Beaverteeth: Beaverteeth (1977)

Here's one I wish I could take back, but how was I supposed to guess that a band called Beaverteeth (Beaverteeth, ferchrissake!) would dam their river (in a manner of speaking) with soft rock more so than Southern rock?

Especially when my introduction to these boys from Albany, Georgia, came via an exceptional Southern Rock playlist, full of cool, rare bands, assembled by the ever-reliable Day After the Sabbath blog, and a relatively ballsy cover of Carl Perkins' "Dixie Fried."

Maybe I should have paid some mind to another "cover" -- this 1977 debut album's -- with its strange illustration of two Greek goddesses (or maybe they're just fancy ladies in evening gowns) playing a colorful game of chess.

But noooooo ... to my dismay and horror, the rest of Beaverteeth's self-titled LP set sail on the "smuuuuuuuve" grooves, sweet vocals, and disco strings applied to sappy schmaltz like "Just Another Local Band," "Hope," and "Sacred Harmony."

At their best, the band reveals a reverence for The Beatles on rich, melodious fare like "Sing for You" and "The World's Really Flat," and I suppose the easy-funkin' "I'm Callin'" ain't half bad, but not even these "mid-lights" are spared those damn disco strings.

If nothing else, the band could obviously play, but instrumental skill and good taste (or at least my personal taste) don't necessarily go hand-in-hand.

So by the time Beaverteeth reach a balladic nadir with the downright idiotic "Where Does Love Go (When It Goes Away)" (it goes away, morons!) you'll be begging for mercy, or worse, Debbie Boone's "You Light Up My Life."

And yet, despite all these crimes against humanity, Beaverteeth were allowed back into the studio the following year to record a second and final album entitled Dam It (get it?), but if you think I'm going anywhere near that, forget it!

I think I've had about enough Beaverteeth for one lifetime ...

More Southern Rock: The Allman Brothers Band’s Idlewild South, Black Oak Arkansas’ High On the Hog, Black Stone Cherry's Black Stone Cherry, Blackfoot’s Strikes, Blackhorse’s Blackhorse, Bloontz’s Bloontz, Blue Jug's Blue Jug, Bull's It's a Rock 'n' Roll World, Creed’s Creed, Creedence Clearwater Revival's Bayou Country, Doc Holliday’s Doc Holliday, Epitaph’s Outside the Law, Estus' Estus, The Four Horsemen's Nobody Said it was Easy, Georgia Satellites' Georgia Satellites, Grinderswitch’s Pullin’ Together, Heads, Hands & Feet's Tracks, Hydra’s Hydra, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Second Helping, Molly Hatchet’s Flirtin’ with Disaster, Navasota’s Rootin’, Nitzinger’s Nitzinger, Point Blank’s Point Blank, Potliquor’s Levee Blues, Raging Slab's Raging Slab, Thunder’s Thunder, Two Guns’ Balls Out, Winterhawk's Electric Warriors, ZZ Top’s Rio Grande Mud.

[beefydnd]

World map for my 1920's campaign setting, Espoir. In this version of the Material Plane, due to an ancient curse placed on the plane itself by an unknown entity, about 60% of the land was rendered uninhabitable. This portion of the world is known as the Starving Wild, a hellscape where probability is turned upside down, making it so anything that can happen, will happen at anytime. The rest of the world has been portioned off by those ancient survivors into massive city-countries called Havens, where the effects of the curse of misfortune are minimized. Due to the curse, the destiny of everyone and everything in Espoir is unstable, fluctuating rapidly and constantly. This has produced cultures, magic, races, and more which are wholly unique and strange in each of these Havens, making this world as diverse as it is dangerous.

In the Scorching Bulwark, the elemental planes of Fire and Earth grind against the mountains of the Material Plane, producing a civilization of elemental and Genasi which prioritizes strength and sportsmanship over all else.

The Elves of the Ulfur Woods, teleporting their civilization to the Feywild over a thousand years ago when the curse first took hold, mysteriously reappeared over the last twenty years. Unfortunately, those that took the trip found that the Feywild too had been afflicted by the curse, the natural chaos of the plane amplified a hundredfold. Whatever has returned to the woods cannot be called elves, their physiologies warped by the chaos of the new Feywild. What they brought with them, terrible warped fey beasts, have taken over the ecosystems of the Emerald Expanse, threatening the world's lumber supplies and more. The Lycanthropes of the Emerald Expanse, given power by the dead body of Salvije, the goddess of the wild whose corpse keeps the power of the curse at bay, fight the waves of fey in a bloody feud over the forest.

In the north-western sands of the Hajere Desert, the proud peoples of the city-state of Hajene fight a rebellious war against the invading armies of the Prime Theocracy, the lack of a Pharaoh opening a hole in power over the government that threatens to tear the civilization apart. On the other side of the great Nekral River lies Al-Hameied, where the corpse of Anubis not only lessens the hold of the curse, but also allows the dead to walk the earth again. Those not properly embalmed and prepared for death return as mindless, ravenous zombies, while those given proper care return as Shabti, the thinking dead who live peaceful, fulfilling unlives so long as they stay within a certain distance to Anubis. Using Hieroglyph magic created by the ancient peoples of Hajene, both civilizations fight to preserve themselves in a world of rapid change and hostile forces.

In the Haven of Hinasho, the goddess of twilight, Filmoria, blessed the land with eternal night so that the peoples of the Underdark, drow, duergar, and deep gnomes, can live in peace and comfort with the tieflings who also sought refuge from the religious prosecution of Sertseyed. There, the four nations of Sakura, Zinpangu, Tsuru-ta-Pang, and Roshasha live in harmony in the light of the artificial moon, each surrounding the great cherry blossom tree Amerata which towers above the Haven, its petals coating the land like snow. However, the Golden Shogunate, bolstered by the increase of Yokai attacks and aid from the Prime Theocracy, seek to end the tenuous peace held in the mists of Hinasho.

In the plateaus of the haven of Darjeel, a rift to the Far Realm holds the curse at bay, yet it provides its own horrors upon the land. Creatures of nightmare and eldritch might stalk the lands below the clouds, keeping the majority of the population regulated to small villages on the peaks of mountains and plateaus high above the cloudline. Of these, the greatest city is Gobi, where only those with the riches and resources can live in peace under the might of the Raj, the occupation by the Prime Theocracy which controls the land with the Sultan as their figurehead.

In the great plains of the Tsarprostoy lies the two Havens of Dracovich and Sertseyed. Between these city-states, the beastmen and cursed victims roam in nomadic tribes, trading wares and stories between each culture. In the city of Dracovich, the dragon goddess of mercy Ydona lies pierced upon one of the cities many crystal spires, her blood perpetually seeping into the water supply. This divine blood has turned the cities water into an incredible font of healing, leading to the majority of the city being populated by doctors of the Hands of Ydona, who regulate the water and use their techniques of healing to train doctors. However, prolonged exposure to the water turns one into a dragonborn or bestows them with dragon sorceries, which conflicts with the city's hatred of Arcane magic which they believe to have caused the curse. This leads many sorcerous denizens of Dracovich to live a life of hiding from the Witch Eater Corps, the citie's defense against magical practitioners, or for their exodus from the city to Avarita. Opposite Dracovich lies the holy city of Sertseyed, where the majority of the world's religions are practiced. This city is built within a massive crater, its churches built on concentric circles called Firmaments surrounding the central Monastery of the First Blood. Beneath this crater lies the body of Baphomet, the demon prince of beasts, whose glaive Heartcleaver driven into his chest as well as the millions of prayers spoken every day in the city proper keeps him from re awakeneing and destroying civilization. While his power keeps the curse at bay, his blood seeping into the land creates terrible abominations that threaten the people of Sertseyed daily, their only protection being the Blood Hunter Corps who use the blood of Baphomet to fight against the waves of his bastard monsters.

In Avarita, the people have created an arcano-technological society built upon the knowledge and artifacts left behind by the ancient people born long before the land was cursed. Powered by Phantasm, liquid magic created by the corpses of extra-planar entities long dead and buried below the ground, these people have created great feats of ingenuity in the form of great cloudliner airships and Auto-Carriages. Beneath the city of New Avarita lies the Tubes, a vast network of caverns holding both the wonders and horrors of long ago, waiting to be discovered.

To obtain this Phantasm, the Haven of Glimmern was founded in the heart of the Starving Wild, where 90% of the worlds Phantasm deposits keep the curse at bay. Colonies from Avarita pump the precious liquid from the earth and transport it to the city via the Glimmern Express, the world's largest train system. However, this resource also decreases the viable landmass the more it is excised from the Haven, causing the tribes of rock Gnomes who have lived there for thousands of years to have to fight for their land, leading to conflicts between themselves and the city of Lone Star.

In the Khern Peaks, where the body of Khern, god of giants, lies dead, nomadic tribes of Dwarves mine the frozen ground for precious minerals and, most importantly, Gaelstone. Created from the destruction of the plane's moon, Grendel, Gaelstone was once said to have created the dwarven race when it interacted with the stone of Espoir. Now, Dwarves all over the world are drawn inexplicably to this dark purple stone, and it fuels their need to craft and take from the earth. No better is this drive seen than in Pirogi, the city of sapphire. Built on the back of a long dead Sapphire Titan, the Dwarves and Goliaths of the Khern Peaks flock here from all over to show off their creations and trade between each other myths, goods, and services. With the death of their god, the Giants of Espoir found themselves unable to bear children, causing the race to begin to spiral towards extinction. To carry on their race, having seen the Dwarves been hewn from Gaelstone, the Giants used their magic and the body of Khern to make the Goliath race, who together with the Dwarves created Rune and Ring magic in order to survive the harsh environment of the Peaks.

As chaos swallowed the world over a thousand years ago, the people who survived the beginnings of the curse sought ways to combat it, to rid the world of its horrors. One civilization succeeded in this, to deleterious effect. The people of the Prime Theocracy were once a peaceful nation of farmers before one of their mages found a way to connect themselves to the Plane of Order, Mechanus. This warped and lobotomized them, turning them into a unfeeling, unthinking machine whose only purpose was to spread the tenets of order. At first, the people were horrified at what this mage had wrought. However, this concentration of order all at once drove the curse farther back than any other force they had seen, allowing those affected to walk the Starving Wild safely. This power was an incredible boone in a world so thoroughly cursed, and it proved too much temptation to the people. They committed themselves to order in its entirety, even sacrificing their very flesh to the machine. Now, this country of mindless, emotionless, tireless machines seeks to commit the whole world to order, in anyway necessary.

Finally, in the north-western reaches of the world lies the burial ground for gods whose names were lost to time, the Isle of Lost Gods. Here, the corpses have formed a landmass of their own, with the city of Paranoia buried in its center. Ruled by an Archvile of the Negative Energy plane, a powerful entity of undeath named Lord Bedlam, this place has become a mecca for those afflicted by the curse, so called "monstrous" races who have no place in the rest of society.

[haha-dying-inside]

I spent way to much time on this, I’ll look for all the creators later, also for the ones that had normal names, I guessed their gender based on it

Errorink ship kids

Paperjam - gender-fluid I think, happened during a fight where their magic combined

Gradient- boy

Drop - girl

Despair - emotions are different personalities

Design - he/him, soul’s a chip (technology chip)

Guffe - created in battle, soul’s white ink surrounded by red thread

Romer - boy,

Peppermint -

Mono -

Omni -

Blankpage -

Kelz -

Grayscreen -

White Ink -

Tuhota -

Virus -

Erin -

Magenta -

Shika -

Solvent -

Rotten tint -

Software -

Spilled Ink -

Oras - girl

Glim -

Obi -

Inkmare ship kids

Stain - boy,

Vision - girl,

Dusk -

Eriss - girl

Moonless -

Felix - boy

Black Marker -

Eerie -

Quill -

Black -

Strike -

Ombre -

Conteur -

Chroma -

Rink - he/him

Drink ship kids

Palette Roller - boy

Journey -

Shooting Star -

Litur -

Wish -

Bright -

Cameron - boy,

Stillo -

Emerald -

Trust -

Mate -

Paint -

Link -

Daisy -

Sunshine - boy

Fantasy -

Canvas -

Spark -

Sagita -

Lullabi - boy,

Hue - boy

Harmony - boy

Adore - boy

Starlight - boy

Lucky - boy

Cherry Blossom - girl

Inanis - girl

Coloring -

Imagination - girl

Lambda - girl

Bee - girl, creator is @coolingrosa

Inkberry ship kids

Blueprint - boy, created via drawing by Ink

Splatter -

Cyan -

Paint -

Blink -

Mix -

Passiblue -

Canvas -

Craftypuzzle- girl

Iris - girl

Conner - boy

Death of the Author/Ink x Reaper ship kids

Issac - boy

Abstract - boy

Phantom -

Black Ink - boy

Atrament - boy

Inkspill -

Iren-

IP -

Quietus -

Romeo -

Black Death -

Alexa - girl

Haunted -

Claud -

Ren -

Execute -

Ether - he/him , creator is @hnwd

Fable - She/they, creator is @groovygladiatorsheep

Crink/Cross x Ink ship kids

Moku - boy

Nix - boy

Rely -

Papercut -

Purple -

Green -

Echo -

Cameron -

Theo -

Random - boy

Clip - creator is @thestrongestjewel

Smudge - girl, creator is @yeloenk

Freshink/Fresh x Ink ship kids

Arty -

Frae -

Spray paint -

Horror x Ink ship kids

Popart - boy

Carnis -

Geno x Ink ship kids

Ichor Havoc -

Gello -

Gink -

Lustink/Ink x Lust ship kids

Orfeo - he/him

Katna -

G (gaster sans) x Ink?? Ship kids

Aaron - boy

Alex -

Killerink ship kids

Casey -

Scarlet -

Chalk -

Sketch -

Bottle -

Knid - He/him

Outer x Ink ship kids

Oillion -

Gin x Ink ship kids

Glass -

Sterling -

Tempink ship kids

Bao - girl, empty soul

Dust x Ink kids

Juniper - he/they, Demiboy,

Drinkberry/Star sans poly kids

Suzy - girl,

Bethany - girl,

Errorinkmare ship kids

Aqua -

Elijah - boy

There’s probably more but I’m done with this for now

Someone give me list of Ink sans fan kids and their info pls

Even the most popular ones, I gotta learn more so I can feed my "Ink is trying to be a good parent" fantasies which includes Ink having way too many kids bc I think thats funny