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MOVED!

" Where the flame rose above black forest, Where idols fell from the sword, Tell me, what's happened to us, Who have we become? " independent fandomless historical horror ocs. written by sashka. 21+.

tw: religious themes. war. violence. body horror. death.

primary muses. secondary muses. rules. memes. other rp blog.

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(( might move this blog cause it ✨ is ✨ a ✨ mess ✨ ))

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@academia-lucifer

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@id1eyouth asked: [ alone ] for Val from Zach? :) / injury/hurt prompts bc reasons. [ alone ] for one muse to find the other trying to treat themselves.

He finds him in the lonely hours of the night, in an alley, a shortcut, where no animal, no soul, no breeze passes through ( Valentin finds him to be quite lonely. Maybe they both are. ). Confusion halts him in his tracks, golden eyes squinting as though he does not recognize his blond hair and his broad shoulders immediately. His gaze moves, finally seeing his clutched hand, his shaking frame. There is something akin to a tissue trying to pressed to his palm. It's red.

" Zachary! Are you alright? What happened? " Though there is concern etched into every part of his expression, his voice remains calm and gentle, making it evident that this is not the first wound he has seen or the first drops of blood that have stained his hands ( he had hoped, all these years ago, that it would have been his last ). He acts on a soldier's instincts, taking off his coat to wrap it around his shoulders in a fluid motion before gloved hands reach out to look at the torn flesh of his palm. " It's not too bad. Wait---. " It's not too bad. It doesn't look like war or a yound man barely eighteen reaching for him with bloodied fingertips. He rummages around his bag, taking out a bottle of water he pours onto it and a bandage. " Don't worry. Everything is going to be okay. "

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@viracmia asked: [ LOVE ] for Collin and Lance, but not really because they are both stupid and oblivious / '𝚃𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝚈 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳' 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂. [ LOVE ] : while out together in a romantic setting, sender quietly holds receiver's hand as they're standing together.

" And that--- ", his finger lifts to swim amidst the sea of stars in the night sky above, pointing and then drawing along the faint constellation for Lance to follow. " --- that's Cassiopeia. Or at least I think. " Collin knows but he has a feeling that the cheeky smile he gifts the other will make him smile in return and, to him, that is much more important than a sense of accuracy.

The air curls around them in warm waves, laying itself idly on his skin ( he can taste the relentless, stifling heat of summer approaching and he isn't sure whether to blame his slightly flushed cheeks on this or on his company ). In a moment of defiant freedom, of a friction of peace that could slip from his hold at any minute, he has taken off his jacket, letting the cool metal of the plane's tail he is leaning against dig into his back. Lance is standing right next to him, the space between their bodies diminishing by the moments he has stopped counting until their hips are pressed together and, somehow, that makes this entire scene even more comforting.

His finger once again moves. " Oh! And this one is--. ", but instead of being able to finish his sentence, Collin is suddenly aware of the soft skin on his palm, of the warmth increased ten-fold intertwining itself between his fingers. It takes a second for him to register that Lance is holding his hand, green eyes blinking before his gaze switches to face his and he cannot help the grin as he looks at him or the softness that takes a hold of his expression. " That-- ", he twists their hands so that his finger points at the taller man, squeezing his hand. " -- is mo ghrian. "

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All living things have a tendency to wander too far into the forest: mesmerized by the calmness, by the quietude, coaxed in by the gentle rays of sunshine falling past the leaves and the seemingly endless thicket. It's beautiful but vast and Erik knows that the deeper they go, the more dangerous it gets.

He is fast enough to pull himself from the bark of the nearest tree before the other acknowledges him, the growl making him raise both his eyebrows and his hands as a peace offering. A smile spreads softly on his lips and slowly, as though not to startle him any further than he already has, he pulls his notebook from his pocket.

[ I did not mean to frighten you. But it isn't wise to go too far into the woods. ]

@itokunii liked for a starter .

the forest was damp, and cold. the prince , despite being a wolf, was not fond of being here. he liked the cities and all, the english countryside. this just gave him the creepy feeling. the werewolf breathed on the scents. the air was fresh, and clean.

caspian adjusted his black coat and hair , as he can sense that there is something more to this place than just the pretty trees. He heard the sounds of leaves ruffling on the ground. upon turning around, caspian let out a warning growl. the werewolf prince did not like being creeped upon a random stranger.

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" Once upon a time heaven was a towered tower Tethered in its pride, Castor's grace is sour, Thought the ink was dried but hellish gardens flowered Ivy to be climbed, spread my filth, my wings, my weeds. " independent interpretation of the seven lords of hell. 21+. written my sashka.

tw: religious themes. violence. body horror.

about. rules. memes. other rp blog. pinterest.

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I- this man should be in a museum.

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@id1eyouth asked: ( go downtown ) for blaire & caleb <;33 / 👻୧‿︵‿︵ just fucking around !

His hands are a constant pressure on her curves, on every dip and every crevice of her body, exploring the softness beneath his own calloused palms with a patience that withholds his own growing need. Growing, spurred on by her warmth and scent that clouds his mind and pulls him into another kiss ( sweet like honey and her lips just as sticky ), her lipstick smeared across his skin. A mark. Her mark on him and, albeit temporary, enough to make him dig his fingers in her thighs.

" Fuck, darling, you know how to make a man lose his mind. ", is nothing but a hot, muttered exhale, his accent thickening with every moment he spends indulging in her. A chuckle. " I'm so damn lucky. " Inch by inch he begins his descent, trailing his tongue and his teeth over her naked breasts, down her stomach, around her hips, all the while using part of his own weight to make her refrain from switching their positions. Blue eyes briefly flick upwards, sharp fangs nibbling at the soft flesh of her inner thighs. " 'm going to stay here for a while. Got to make sure ye've come at least a couple o' times. " And with that he pulls her in by her hips, legs placed on either side of his head and his tongue darting out, slowly dragging it across her folds. He hovers for just a moment before hunger overtakes him and he picks up his pace, his intention to please her relentlessly evident in the way he holds her captive.

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× WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE?

He smells of a light, pleasant cologne, preferably something fresh and plant-based like iris or lily. A faint hint of clay, mostly around his hands and, like many vampires, the metallic tinge of blood. Sometimes he also smokes a pipe and it can linger in his clothes.

× HOW OFTEN DOES YOUR MUSE BATHE/SHOWER? ANY HABITS?

Showers are the quickest/most efficient way to remove all the blood from him but he does indulge in a warm bath once in a while. He does shower regularly, simply to maintain a clean and proper appearance.

× DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY TATTOOS OR PIERCINGS?

He does not! While he does love body modifications, he simply cannot imagine himself having any.

× ANY BODY MOVEMENT QUIRKS? ( E.G. KNEE SHAKES? )

He always keeps himself upright, even when he is sitting down or resting in general. He also likes to fold his hands in his lap so that no one can see when he is clenching his fist in anger or tension.

× WHAT DO THEY SLEEP IN? UNDERWEAR OR PJS?

A silk pyjama because he is extra like that.

× WHAT’S THEIR FAVORITE PIECE OF CLOTHING?

A grey coat or his checkered suit jacket.

× HOW DO THEY SLEEP? POSITION?

He does not sleep as often but if he does, it's on his back with his hands on his stomach.

× WHAT DO THEIR HANDS FEEL LIKE?

They are oddly smooth and very cold, simply because of his lack of body temperature. Also steady, given the work he does. Tries to keep them neat and clean.

× IF YOU KISSED THEM, WHAT WOULD THEY USUALLY TASTE LIKE?

Blood and probably something akin to mint.

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(( Thinking about a divergent!au for Radek where, instead of being thrown out of the church after he awakens as a vampire, they turn him into an even more powerful hunter. Promising salvation and God's mercy if he does as he's told aka continues to hunt. ))

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Mary Elizabeth Winstead as Michelle in 10 CLOVERFIELD LANE (2016)

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@neschastnyy asked: (morning sex ) our muses are just waking up when they begin getting frisky before the coffee is even put on! Not sure whether to feel bad for Valentin but Paukka is the type of guy. Barely awake and already wanting to appreciate that beautiful man lying besides of him. / 👻୧‿︵‿︵ just fucking around !

The gentle singing of the birds is what stirs him from his slumber, a light, melodic chirp, barely loud enough to warrant opening his eyes and face the early morning hours but enough to let out a low grumble and nuzzle his face into the pillow next to him. His mind, however peaceful and serene the situation makes itself out to be, does not allow itself to simply let itself slip back into slumber and thus he remains awake enough to slowly acknowledge Paukka curling around him, his arm tucked around his waist. It makes Valentin smile, the mere realization how safe he is, feels, here within his embrace. I feel like I could stay here forever with you, he remebers telling him and perhaps he can, just for a few more minutes before the tasks of the day force them to leave the comfort of their bed and the warmth of their love.

But still he stretches, bending his limbs to shake off Hypnos' kiss and, in turn, press all of himself further against the taller man still nuzzled against him. And finally he turns, meeting him with a smile and lashes fluttering slowly against golden eyes. " Good morning. " And in exchange he receives a kiss, feeling himself be turned and pressed back into the pillows, which he goes along with easily, wrapping his own arms around his neck and, inadvertently, naively ( without considering how he hums into his mouth and how his legs make way for him ) pull him deeper into the kiss.

Until Paukka's kisses trail down his neck, down his chest and his hand comes to palm him through his underwear, leaving him delirious and desperate. Until his voice, still rough from sleep, echoes against their bedroom walls with his groaned pleading for more, blending into a repetition of his name. " Paukka, please. ", is a mumbled prayer uttered on repeat, until two fingers bury themselves within his heat and he is left panting and whining, clutching the sheets around them with every gasp that leaves his mouth, every gasp that is muffled in the kisses the other bestows upon his mouth.

But when he finally moves to push himself against Valentin's entrance, a gloved hand gingerly reaches out to stop him. " Wait---. " And before Paukka can dare to misinterpret this monosyllabic request, he is already pushing him on his back, moving to sit and hover over his lap and slowly sink himself down on his member. " Paukka, hah--- I love you. ", the flush on his face grows deeper, an embarrassed smile resting upon his lips as he leans down to kiss him again, movements slow, sleepy, the mere need to be close to him taking over every sense and every thought. He begins riding him, brushing himself against Paukka's lower abdomen, moaning loudly. " I love you. "

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@xnecromantia asked: ( the great outdoors ) - Erik / 👻୧‿︵‿︵ just fucking around !

It is truly fascinating that someone like him who always pays such keen attention to the noises of the forest ( the rustling of the leaves, the whispers of the dead ) could even be capable of averting his attention and tune out even the most violent breeze pulling at a shirt he has long since discarded. The way the sun gently cascades down and warms the earth with its rays, the way the soil reaches upwards to embrace it; nothing matters on its own, except for how it looks, sounds, feels around Mortis.

He has him pinned to the tree, his smaller body lifted up by the branches so that Erik can comfortably fit himself between his legs and touch every inch of skin his fingertips come across. Which is how this has started: a curiosity and a playfulness had taken a hold of him, quietly manifesting from the bark of the oak tree his darling lover had waited in front of ( waiting for him, sweetly, innocently, with his back turned ). Long fingers had reached out to slip beneath the fabric of his shirt and press him flush against his front, the cool kiss of his lips traveling from his ear to his neck and the way Mortis moaned both in surprise and delight was all it took for him to turn a teasing touch into loving want.

Black eyes peer at him, taking in his expression, the way his hair falls into his face and the way he instantly reaches out to tuck it back. He can sense his heart beating against the trunk and then, when he finally relents and exchanges the fingers he has been pushing in and out with himself, can feel it beating within himself. His breath shudders, no noise escaping him as he enters him bit by bit, gaze mesmorized by the pleasure overtaking the other. His hands, cold against the flushed flesh, tenderly grip his hips, picking up the pace as he nuzzles into his neck. [ You're beautiful. ], a pant, pulling out before he fills him entirely again. [ And you feel so good, my love. ]

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👻୧‿︵‿︵ just fucking around !

send in one of the prompts below for my muse’s response. these are very nsfw ! please feel free to specify or change something where you see fit.

( just a little missionary ) our muses are having romantic sex in the missionary position

( lotus flowers ) our muses are having romantic sex wrapped around each other in bed in the lotus position

( bubble bath ) our muses are enjoying a romantic soak in the bath when things turn very heated - and it's not just the lit candles

( talk dirty to me ) our muses are having very intense sex with a lot of dirty talking to get each other to orgasm

( tongue twister ) our muses are in a very intimate position where they are able to perform oral sex on each other at the same time

( g-spot ) one muse is teasing the other with their fingers, fingering them and making them squrim

( rug burn ) our muses can hardly wait to find a bed or some other soft surface before they're falling to the floor together and having sex right then and there

( steamy windows ) our muses can't make it out of the car without steaming up the windows and finding interesting positions to get into while having sex in the car

( frisky business ) our muses have sneaky sex at one of their places of work

(morning sex ) our muses are just waking up when they begin getting frisky before the coffee is even put on!

( go downtown ) one muse performs oral sex on the other

( keep quiet ) our muses are having to be very quiet when having sex. think muffled moans, keeping their hands over their mouths, little giggles, and shushes.

( the great outdoors ) our muses are having sex outside. please feel free to specify where.

( bondage ) our muses are playing around with bondage; cuffs, blindfolds, etc. feel free to specify what.

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@viracmia​ asked:  “If I’m a monster, what are you?” (Armin to Radek) / prompt list i.

Monster. The word follows him wherever he goes, a constant reminder of the times he spat it as an unholy insult and the times he whispered it to himself, branding his new, undead skin with it as penance. He can never quite escape it, it seems, and perhaps it is less of an abstraction and more of an identity by now ( perhaps it always has been ), no matter how feebly he tries to escape it. He cannot escape the memory of crosses and fallen brethren, clad in their white robes now stained red with their own blood and the tears of the earth. He cannot escape sharp fangs and instincts that want him to ravage or the iron sword craving his flesh. He is a monster, deluded and zealous, hungry and god-forsaken.

But seeing this wretched beast in front of him, sinking his teeth into innocent skin and bone with nothing but a delighted hum makes his blood boil, the pyre within him set ablaze with the mere notion that something likes this has never known regret. Compassion. Self-hatred. Look at it sneering down at him as he breathes hard but rhythmically, his sword heavy and drenched in red as it rests in his palm. 

What is he? A vampire, a creature, some devilish thing. But his hand flexes around a blessed weapon and the remembers the mark on his index finger ( the devotion, the promise to eradicate all evil from God's land ). He will never go to heaven, someone like him has no place there, where it is pure, where the saints, the good-hearted live in the gentle flutter of angelic wings. But he still has his mission; he is a monster if he lets this thing go.

And thus Radek's hand moves, slipping into his pocket with slow, precise accuracy. " I am a monster. ", he mumbles in agreement before he quickly pulls out a knife, its silver gleaming in the moonlight. It burns his hand, a small cloud of smoke curling around him and yet he does not budge, does not wince, blue eyes set on his target. The saints, the martyrs endured much worse. This is nothing, this is for good.

" But I am a hunter, too. So I will cut off your head, you plague-ridden rat. "