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#blood spill
panzertranse · 2 years
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An intense fast & haunting death metal demo from the early years of extreme metal
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noknowshame · 2 years
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why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?
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mist-mistletoe · 6 months
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blessed-bruises · 19 days
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˚₊‧ ⊰ ⸸ ⊱ ‧₊˚
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keferon · 3 months
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AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH
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shisasan · 11 days
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Why is it always "I love you," and never "I want to sink my teeth into your soul, crawl inside your skin, and bury myself in your dark warmth with insatiable hunger, binding our blood in a rhythm so deep with such ferocity that the earth sighs, and not even the cold grasp of death could pull us apart?"
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simonbrain · 17 days
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reader who has an intense urge to sink their teeth into something x simon who's broad all over and eagerly presents himself as a blank (not really) canvas for his love
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theoldkyokodied · 2 years
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Uploading all my Tomgreg art at once from the past few week before season 4 hits, who knows in what kind of mental state i'm gonna be once it does :')
#tomgreg#succession#dont even talk to me i started watching this show when i had nothing to do at work and now i watch it with averiel my good friend averiel#and we are going to watch s4 together and i feel physically ill from bein so excited#so ya thats what ive been up to... anyway. i love these idiots they desever nothing but the worst (affectionate)#im also a tomshiv lover btw. im the one who yells 'THIS IS HOW TOMSHIV CAN STILL WIN' while they are actively losing on screen#thats the kind of person i am#dont look at me (lying on the floor)#okay i was not going to say stuff in the tags and let the art speak for itself but i NEED to point out details in the wine Painting..#i put a lot of work into that one. thinly veiled metaphors and symbolism yknow..#greg is gripping the stem of the wine glass with his full fist. tom and greg are dressed in the same outfit (sock garters included)#greg look appalled but he is not doing anything about the spill. tom is fondly pouring greg more and more wine. he is doing him a favor#i colored the red wine the same way i would color blood :) oh and tom is not really touching greg#only holding the chair in place. greg is making himself look smaller than he is like usual#oh and @ the person who said that it's the inverse of the tom and nate scene i love the way you think. i did not think of that before#but god. yeah. i actually thought about the scene change from when roman uhh.. christens his office in s1. the one with the coffee machine#i always go insane at that cut. this is not exactly the same since it's more.. about emotions but yknow.. it can be.. the same...
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narikill · 18 days
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aughdhshfjjsjcjdjfjsbgsknfjs <- leshy in this art probably
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lovwbugg · 2 days
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guess who started playing limbus
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wgm-beautiful-world · 1 month
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Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood - ST. PETERSBURG
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chamerionwrites · 1 year
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Also idk but I feel it is important, for reasons of genre understanding, to recognize that good old fashioned murder is like the least violent thing anybody ever does in a proper spy story
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robindrake93 · 2 months
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Dipper, getting into a relationship with Bill even after finding out Bill and Ford are exes, insisting "I can fix him," only for the relationship to be more violent and catestrophically destructive for everyone involved, my beloved. ⚠️🌲
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dragongirlpoet · 22 days
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Dark Signs
Part I
<Read Part II here>
Alucard x female reader
Synopsis: A flirty, playful night with Adrian takes a dark turn. (1.6k words)
TW: Dark fantasy, horror, blood, smut (explicit) 🔞
This is my first attempt at smut, and who better than my bby Alucard as MC. I hope you enjoy it!
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“…And there, in the dead of night, under a moon so maroon, the White Wolf prowled — ravenous. Sturdy were its footsteps, calculated were its gait. Ahead, still as a rosebud in a windless twilight, its prey lay splayed out — helpless. 
Something about its small intakes of breath, its unsuspecting demeanour, made it all the more enticing for the imposing predator. Ever so slowly, the White Wolf, eyes like the golden gleam of a rising dawn, emerged from the thicket, pressing forward, inching closer, closer, closer…”
Body hovering over mine, Alucard’s words were a rasp above my cheek. The antiquated tome he had been reading from now a forgotten humdrum between our bodies. As velvet lips collided into me, I melded into his being. He was a hypnotic wave crashing into shore, and I was but delicate driftwood being dragged underwater.
His kiss was insistent, impatient. I had no escape, no cavity of air to quell the lack of oxygen in my lungs. Still, I kept going, because he was the only breath I needed. My fingers clawed ruthlessly at his back — muscle and bone Herculean from years of battling night creatures and evil forces. Skin so utterly cold, yet I wanted — needed — more.  
His body was a frigid storm to my fervent summer. “You are glorious as the solstice sun, darling. With you I am forever warm, within you I live eternally,” the confession falling easy from his lips the day he had taught me how to hunt.
Faces lost in each other, bodies entwined and limbs tugging like our lives depended on it, Alucard let his hand roam under my nightdress, finally finding solace in the swell of my chest. I shifted slightly at the unusual chill. Was he ever this cold?
Over the months I had become accustomed to his half human intricacies. His unnerving stillness, his undeniable thirst for blood try as he might to hide it, his erratic need to stay up nights in a row roaming the castle “just to be sure…” 
I was no fool. Those witching hours almost always had him back in his childhood room — he would stare, as if entranced, at the spot he had staked his father. And I would see the grief in his eyes — the absolute contrition at his travesty, one he wished he could take back, but couldn’t. 
Alucard, the son of the great Dracula and benevolent Lisa Tepes, the almighty dhampir. A being so beautiful he could bring a kingdom to its knees, yet one so cruelly tormented by his past.
“Baby, eyes on me.” My eyes fluttered open, realising I was lost in the wrong moment. He crashed his lips into mine once again. 
As if in a bid to stop my obsessive thinking, he started to grab at my breast, kneading furiously, thumb toying with my nipple. I leaned in closer, but alas my human endurance had reached its limits and I pulled away for air. 
“I want to know what happened to the prey. I am most opposed to unfinished stories,” I tried to play coy in between ragged breaths. Nose to mine, he wore a smirk on his handsome face. He had a playful glint to his stare — contemplative, as if taunting me to continue with my officious fib. 
Alucard picked the tome up from my stomach, grazing his fingers ever so slightly over my abdomen. He trailed the book slowly down my navel, its cracked spine against my bare skin sent fireworks to my core. I watched with bated breath as the print finally landed where he wanted it — in between my legs. He dragged its spine down, then up again, repeating the motion, teasing, eyes never leaving mine. 
Satisfied with how wet my undergarment had become, he hushed, “I think it better if I showed you instead. Don’t you agree, princess?” 
“Ye..yesss,” 
“Do you like that?”
“Yesss…”
“Open your legs wider.”
I obeyed. Submitting to him was easy. Too easy.
“Let’s see just how wet you are for me, hmm?” 
Without warning, Alucard ripped my soaking cloth off my hips and plunged two fingers inside. I cried out at the shock and how good it felt, and as if by instinct grabbed his hands and guided them deeper into me. Alucard let out a stifled moan at my brazenness, his erection growing fast under his black britches.
He watched with eyes half-lidded, completely spellbound as I bounced into his hand, my breasts rising and falling with every thrust. Body and mind so turned on he reached urgently into his pants and started stroking his length. 
For a long moment we just sat there, eyes locked on each other, legs spread wide, our sex stimulated. And what a profane sight it must have been for our bed chamber was filled with nothing but wanton “fucks” and the squelching of his fingers coated in my lust. 
I fucked myself into his fingers harder, and reached desperately for his cock. With more force than necessary, he caught both my wrists with his free hand and pinned them to my stomach. “That’s for later,” he chided. 
Alucard was usually wary of his inhuman strength around me. But tonight, tonight he was carnal, rough, like an animal being let out of its cage. His knuckles went white with how much pressure he had put on my wrists, and I bit my lip knowing it was going to bruise. 
As if to edge me further, Alucard pulled his fingers out and gazed at them ever so intently, admiring the slather of fluid glistening like diamonds on his digits. If his etherealness hadn’t killed me, then perhaps what he did next would have driven me close to death. With deliberate calm, he brought his fingers into his mouth, swiping his tongue over my juices, savouring every single trickle.
My dhampir, hair like a divine cascade of golden waterfalls, on his knees, drinking my lust as if it were vital sustenance, yet all that he was was in direct contrast to his reverence — powerful, dominant and deadly. I marvelled at his masculine elegance — the way his pectorals tensed as he licked his fingers dry, how his faded sanguine scar stood distinct against his alabaster skin, the definition of muscles that ran down his pelvis…
I swallowed. 
“God, you taste so good. Only for me, yes?” 
“Yesss…” Being thoroughly educated and well-read, I was fairly ashamed it was all the vocabulary I could muster.
And it would seem that more crude words were soon to follow, as Alucard then dove in between my thighs and sent his tongue plunging — deep, depraved — into my clenching walls.  
“Fuuuck, Adrian!” 
Hearing his name sent him over the edge, and he started sucking hard — wet pillow lips against wet pillow flesh. I was heaven and hell collided, rising from it like the luminescent birth of a star. I ground my core into his face, hands grasping his woven-gold hair, willing him to dive further into me. 
Alucard groaned in pleasure against my clit. Powerful, cold hands gripped my thighs apart, and my sweet lover lay soft kisses to the insides, thumbs expertly caressing my sensitive folds. In all his vampire glory, he bared his fangs ever so slightly, sharp teeth just barely peeking through, grazing them over my clit and thighs, nibbling, never breaking skin. I was undone. 
“Adrian…Adrian please…”
“Please what?”
I was all heavy pants and delirious to give a coherent reply.
Head still positioned at the apex of my thighs, his eyes raked over his masterpiece — delicate features coated in sweat, nipples hard from stimulation and the soppy, pulsating cunt laid out like a feast inches from his mouth. What a mess he had made of me, and a mess he was most certainly proud of. 
From in between my legs, Adrian was a fallen angel from a paradise unknown. His eyes like gold afire were so wholly glazed over they looked like one with the smouldering flames nestled atop our chamber candles. 
Patience waning, he asked again. “Please…” humming the words into my clit…“what?” A loud moan escaped my lips. I arched my back in sheer pleasure, feeling the build up in my core.
He dragged his fangs against my thighs, eyes fixated on mine, drinking in my desire. 
“I want…I want…” my chest heaving so violently from how close I was to release.
“What do you want?” Adrian moved to whisper against my ear. This was too much. 
“I want…I want you to turn me.”
Alucard went very still, his pupils blown wide. Everything went very still. The flames lost its dance, the curtains absent of sway.
“What did you say?” His voice was still water with undercurrents of danger. 
His statuesque figure towered over me, pinning me under. 
“I said, I want you to turn me.” 
Alucard held my stare, and as I took them in, an unearthly shadow seemed to lurk beneath those incandescent irises. 
If my question threw him off guard, his unsettling stillness made it clear he wasn’t most fond of surprises. It took a long moment before he finally moved, his supernatural speed having him by the window in seconds. 
Frustration soon shrouded my orgasmic high. I forced my spent body off the reprieve of our mattress. He was going to answer me whether he liked it or not.
“Adrian! You cannot disregard my question any longer! I’ve wanted this from the first time you made love to me, don’t pretend it was never asked of you,” exasperation evident in my tone.
“Peril or not, I am not afraid. I…”
A sudden squall of wind extinguished the flickering flames. Our bed chamber was plunged into chasmic darkness, summoning a bitter chill that seeped through the wooden floors. There, still as a predator hunting prey, hovered the glowing golden orbs of Alucard's eyes, the blacks of his pupils far wider than I’d ever seen. 
“A…Adrian?” 
Part II
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vashhanamichi · 8 months
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the absolute angel @shelter-maki0 drew these beautiful masterpieces inspired by my fanfics Contrapasso and Mary Magdalene. I can't describe how touched I am. @shelter-maki0, to me, is probably the greatest Tomharrymort artist there is and her works, that always look haunting and fairy-tale like, inspire me endlessly. These are so beautiful and I can't stop looking at them. 私は光栄です。どうもありがとうございます!
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scarnemo · 7 months
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why she ourple?
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