#can't wait to inject this season into my veins!!!!!!

[kvtnisseverdeen]

[blubberingblobmonster]

The Dragon Prince | Season 5 Official Trailer

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

[ordinaryschmuck]

It feels very weird to be interested in Doctor Who again. To go from "I think I'm done with this franchise" to "I can't WAIT for the new episode! INJECT INTO MY VEINS" in the span of...I guess five years is a CRAZY experience. But it's true.

The more I see of this new season with new episodes, new goofiness, new stakes, and this new Doctor being his fabulous yet serious self, I just want MORE. Please give me MORE.

[leverage-ot3]

I was tagged by my buddy and old siren (freeform) mutual @imaginejolls for this ask game!

Star Sign(s): Sagittarius sun, Aquarius moon, Capricorn rising

Favorite Holidays: halloween :3

Last Meal: my mom's cajun beef stew with rice pilaf and a roll

Current Favorite Musician: I've been listening to a lot of noah kahan recently (vermont represent), but I also adore hozier, gracie abrams, lizzie mcalpine, phoebe bridgers, etc. I've never been the same since I was told my taste in music was yallternative. I also love lil nas x and found a new musician through tiktok that goes by brye that is really good

Last Music Listened To: the playlist I listen to the most, especially for sleep: immaculate fall vibes (technically the name of the playlist is just a bunch of the artists featured in it but the description is immaculate fall vibes). my most recent song was save me by noah kahan

Last Movie Watched: this is so embarrasing but I watched the meg with my dad yesterday lmao. I have a weakness for stupid monster movies (we used to watch the shittiest syfy movies together when I was in hs. the shittier the better). I thought he'd like it because jason statham but he was meh about it

Last TV Show Watched: last one I was invested in was the new episode of percy jackson, but I did watch a little bit of that polish show high water on netflix the other day which seemed interesting

Last Book/Fic Finished: god I actually haven't been reading fic for a hot minute which is really surprising. probably my reread of of the northmost winds and skies by @jjackfrost. wasn't in the crossover fandom until earlier this year but actually adore that pairing. this is now my comfort longfic (+400k). it's so good, I read it and I wasn't even in the fandom at the time and it was amazing!!! all the characters are written so well, the voices and pov are great, the worldbuilding and storyling is amazing! I've gushed in the comments before but ugh I love it so so much. inject this into my mf veins

Last Book/Fic Abandoned: I don't really abandon fics, I just wait for them to get updated again. as for books, I really tried to get into loveless by alice oseman because aroace rep but I couldn't really get into it :/

Currently Reading: nothing at the moment (not going to list all the fics I'm waiting for updates for because I can't remember them all and the ones I can remember would take up like multiple pages lol)

Last Thing Researched for Art/Writing/Hyperfixation: ooo this is hard. technically speaking I've been hyperfixated on playing animal crossing so the most recent thing I looked up for that was what treasure islands were lmao

Favorite Online Fandom Memory: oooo I'm not sure actually? I really love having mutuals even if we don't talk. I also really enjoy when people engage with my posts and appreciate my tags and aus. I like sharing my thoughts and ideas with you guys and it's so heartwarming and validating when y'all enjoy it right back

Favorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence: I agree with jolly, I miss siren dearly. can they just do a leverage in like five years and retcon the last season? thanks

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish It Did: probably some of the kdramas I've watched. I adored the guest on netflix but there's no fandom. I really REALLY wanted some fix-it fics for the ending of my name but there weren't any because the fandom was too small :(

Tempting Project You're Trying to Rein In/Don't Have Time For: so many things that I jump between (the adhd of it all lmao). I really would like to make a leverage ot3: are they queer video essay and I have some stuff typed up BUT I work in the healthcare field and I'm really hesitant of putting myself on video because when you work in this field it can be weird if clients or employers find your channel. so that's technically on hold for privacy reasons rn. I also really want to learn how to sew and make clothes and my roommate has even offered to help (they used to do competitive cosplay) but I'm just very unmotivated. I want to get back into witchy things but don't have the mental energy to invest in that other than appreciating my stones

tagging 10 moots but anyone can play!!!: @leverageclips @all-things-breathing @digitaldiscipline @peachyteabuck @vampirewalterskinner @buzzmcnab @sidras-tak @my-beloved-lakes @kajaono @suddenrundown

[clyrisis]

i was tagged by @paint-it-red-and-black. thank you 🫶!

last song: Jungle - I've Been in Love

been listening to happier, more danceable music to fight off the seasonal depression. so far it's been working. and Jungle, well: need they discography injected into my veins asap.

favourite colour: lavender

i own way too much lavender. even my prom suit will be lavender – how wonderful is that?

last movie: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

the Hunger Games is probably my favourite saga/franchise ever. it was my whole childhood. read the prequel as soon as it came out and when i learned there would be an adaptation nothing in life mattered except waiting for it.

sweet spicy savoury: can't do spicy at all. wish i could say savoury to seem mature or wtv, and i do like it! but icl i have a sweet tooth.

relationship status: single. no i have no game (useless lesbian and all that).

last thing i googled: "Stendhal" – humanities student stuff.

current obsessions: F1 (duh). otherwise, dark media, mainly Hannibal. (queer) series in general. philosophy: i have 10 hours of philosophy/week so yeah if i didn't like it it would be a bit concerning. i really love how philosophy is connected to so many disciplines (art, literature, architecture, history, politics, econ etc). once you realize that, your perception of the world is changed. same goes for sociology. also, french literature: again, i study it at school. the Romantic era is my roman empire, i think about it so much it's almost like a constant background thought in my head yk? some of my favourite authors are Rousseau, Chateaubriand, Stendhal, Sand, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Mallarmé. Chopin himself counts as an obsession. and music in general. been alternating between rock and soul for the past few months and have discovered many great songs and artists!

that's it for me! thanks for reading :D

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Season 2 Chapter 54 Translation (Lucien's Route - Part 6 [Not Taking Risk])

⚠️  SPOILER ALERT  ⚠️

This post contains a VERY HEAVY SPOILER for the chapter that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

I seem to be in a room with warm yellow lights, having prepared a "meal" and waiting for someone to come back.

I really want to reach out and embrace that someone. Then say this to him.

"...Lucien, I'm hungry."

Translation under the cut!

Previous part-> [Here]

A little hesitation arose in my heart.

Thinking about NW still makes me a bit afraid.

MC: Can I choose to escape then?

Lucien: If that's what you want, we can escape together.

Lucien takes me to a villa far from Loveland City, and there we quietly spend several days together.

But after one shopping trip, Lucien doesn't return on time. Instead there are several people wearing NW uniforms when I open the door.

NW Member: Miss MC, we've already lost too many personnel in order to find your whereabouts. Please cooperate.

MC: Where's Lucien?!

The response to my question is a heavy blow.

I catch a faint aroma wafting from the kitchen.

I just learned a new recipe today and wanted to wait for him to come back to taste it....

---------------------------------------------------------

Above me is a cold and white light.

I lie quietly in the apparatus, with my memories and senses growing numb.

NW Member: .......The data for this experiment has declined. Inform the commander and await further instructions for the next steps.

As the needle injecting nutrients pierces my vein, I faintly smell a warm and strange fragrance emanating from the researcher.

I seem to be in a room with warm yellow lights, having prepared a "meal" and waiting for someone to come back.

I really want to reach out and embrace that someone. Then say this to him.

MC: ...Lucien, I'm hungry.

Achieved ending: "Blurry Pot."

[T/N: I believe that what happened here is after they escape together, they're hunted down by NW. Lucien protects MC by fighting them, resulting in NW losing its many personnel, but from the previous chapter, we know that Lucien can't use too many Evol power bc the whole 'too-much-evol-cause-cancer-thing'. This restrains and NW having more manpower possibly made him lose. In this end, he impliedly dies in the fight while NW takes MC by force. As she gets experimented on, in her hallucination, she still waits for Lucien to come back home:"]

[ghostiewriter]

about everyone else as well except JJ they have this amazing best friend connection that's so much more than I can't describe I only ever want them to be with each other god I can't wait until Season 3 it's going to be so good we'll be winning for sure.

THE SCENES WE ARE GONNA GET NEXT SEASON ARE THE ONLY THING KEEPING ME GOING RN🤡the fact we are getting canon Jiara? Fucking heroin injected into my veins

[yespolkadotkitty]

Can't quite believe you'd write a fic for little old me 🥰 Ezra is one of my favourites, I adore the dichotomy of the character, he's dangerous but soft, educated but unrefined. I love fics with feels, to me the emotion is what makes smut really connect. Maybe something from before he goes to the green? One final night with his lady before he knows he has to leave. Or conversely, a reunion after he and Cee escape. I'd be happy with anything at all. I know whatever you write will be amazing ❤

The Promise of Forever, pt 1/2

So... I got carried away by this. It’s gonna be a 2-parter.

Warnings: shameless, indulgent angst.

It’s been a whole year since you saw Ezra.

Sometimes you wonder if you made him up. His lick of blond hair, the languid way he speaks, as if he swallowed a sedative and the dictionary together on one wild night.

You can hardly feel the ghost of his touch any more, if you even recalled it properly to begin with.

“One last venture, Sunrise, and we’ll be set for the remainder of our days. I’ll be kneeling at your feet with my haul before you even know I’m gone.”

You clung to those words for the first few weeks. Still clung to them when the communicator crackled now and again, but no trace of Ezra’s syrup-over-broken-glass tones could be heard.

You moved aimlessly through the days at first. Nova-3 was a pleasant enough planet to make a home on - not too expensive, clean air, plentiful water. The twenty-foot trees got some getting used to, but now you found them a comforting shelter from what you knew to be the merciless expanse of space.

You knew Ezra had existed. You knew. And not just in your heart. You had the polaroid camera - a find in a junk shop on Polaris II; and the shop owner had sold you a compatible roll of film for a pretty penny - and pictures of Ezra littered the refrigerator. His sunshine-smile, a little crooked. He joked that it was a reflection of his skewed morality. His hands, the little circular tattoo on his left one that you sometimes kissed while he slept. His big, soulful brown eyes.

“I miss you, Ez,” you’d muttered for the first few months.

Then the weather turned, the huge trees turned from purple to a deep gold, the wind gentled, the seasons changed.

You missed him still, the ache got deeper, but you felt it less, some days. His side of the bed remained unslept in, after two weeks you had to change the sheets, and they no longer smelled like him.

You cried, the first night your bed smelled of laundry powder and not your sweet Ezra.

He’d left a few pieces of clothing behind and you slept in one of his shirts until it grew threadbare, drawing comfort from his clothing against your skin. When the shirt fell apart after constant washing and wearing, you curled up a strip of the neckline and tucked it into the locket he’d given you when you’d been together six months.

“Perhaps it’s overstepping the mark, Sunrise, although I’d wager you know that propriety and I have never seen eye to eye, but I chanced upon this and I thought of you. You have the promise of forever in your gaze, Sunrise, and I am but your humble servant, hoping for a crumb of your affection.”

You hadn’t taken it off since.

Your work continued, you’d accepted a position at the local botanist centre, cultivating new plants by splicing the seeds of herbs and flowers with healing properties. You’d made a few friends, you met them for drinks sometimes. Had even made a cocktail from one of your new plants. You’d called it the Sunrise. You knew Ezra would had laughed.

A man at the centre had asked you for dinner twice. You’d turned him down, but if he asked again, maybe you’d say yes. 

Maybe he’d touch you like Ezra had. 

You so wanted to be touched.

Then one not so special day, as the trees that passed your window had started to turn silver, signalling the start of winter sinking its teeth into the planet, your door buzzer crackled to life.

You hadn’t ordered any food. Some mistake, maybe? A lost traveller?

You depressed the button to connect. “Hello?”

A crackle, then, a girl’s voice, asking to confirm your name.

Must be a lost delivery driver. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Ezra asked me to bring him here,” the girl said into the comm.

Thank Kevve you hadn’t been holding anything. You would have dropped it. “Wh- what?” You must have misheard.

The girl repeated herself. “Can we come up?”

“I’ll come down.” You took your finger off the button and your hand was shaking. You took two deep breaths, pocketed your keycard, and hurried down the stairs.

You yanked open the front door.

The girl before you gazed at you with a clear, steady gaze. She wore nondescript clothes - jeans, a plain salmon pink sweater.

And leaning heavily on her was Ezra. Your Ezra. Here.

“Kevva,” you whispered, your heart leaping into your mouth. Ezra’s eyes lifted to yours, that soulful brown just like you remembered. A thousand words dried up on your tongue.

“Sunrise…” he murmured, but his voice was low and weak. No quick quip, no crooked smile.

“He needs to rest,” the girl interjected.

“Of course. Come in.” Your mind whirled with what their relationship might be, and as you swiped your keycard into the elevator slot to open the doors, you noticed that Ezra’s right arm was missing. His button-up shirt was loose, open three buttons down, the grey not injecting any colour to make his pale face any brighter. The right sleeve was tied neatly.

You pressed your lips together. Should you touch him? The girl seemed to have a handle on it, and confusion and sadness twisted your stomach.

The elevator pinged open four floors up, and you busied yourself opening the door to your home - yours and Ezra’s home - and holding it open.

“I’m Cee,” the girl said matter-of-factly, and you hurried over to help her lay Ezra on the couch once you realised her intent. Just touching him made a hot burst of serotonin flood your veins. “Took him to a doctor yesterday and they patched him up, but he refused to stay there more than one night. Wanted to see you.” Her lip curled in that teenage way. “He won’t shut up about you.”

“He does talk a lot,” you agreed, and Cee smiled slightly.

Unable to wait a moment longer, you dropped to your knees and smoothed your fingers over the blond tuft of hair on his head. It felt as soft as you remembered, and your heart turned over. “Ezra.”

He opened those bottomless brown eyes and met your gaze, and a sob wracked up your throat. “My… deepest apologies.. For the delay…. Sunrise.”

And upon hearing his voice, by far the most integral part of him, the dam broke, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck and sobbed, hearing your own voice crack like dry ground under the sun too long.

“I’ll, um, come back later. Gotta, um…. Yeah,” you vaguely heard Cee say, and somewhere in the back of your mind you registered the door closing behind her.

You cried for moments that stretched, breathing him in, your hand on his chest, just feeling his heart beating against your palm.

After a time, Ezra’s remaining arm curled around you, and you felt his fingers playing in your hair.

“Soft as spun sugar, Sunrise. I remembered you right.”

And those words made you cry harder, press yourself into him. “I was beginning to think I made you up,” you choked out, hearing your own voice clogged with tears and emotion so heavy it dragged at your limbs. “I thought maybe I’d never see you again.”

Ezra huffed softly. “Know that it was ever my most acute intention to return to you, Sunrise,” he murmured, kissing your hair.

Your hand wandered to what was left of his right arm. “What happened here?”

His face twisted. “Returnin’ to you in such a state pains me more than you can know,” he bit off darkly. “Regrettably, it was the arm or my life. Cee did a good, clean job, and the doc we saw yesterday patched me up further.” His hand clenched on your neck reflexively. “I… will understand if you no longer find me-”

Words failed you, because there was no universe where you would not want Ezra, this perfect puzzle of a man with his measured speech and bottomless heart and eyes that were like looking into his soul. You interrupted his words with a kiss. Your first kiss in an entire year of heartache, of tears, a whole year of empty beds and foggy memories.

Ezra opens for you, and you taste him, cheap, black coffee with too much sugar, and a moan escapes you, and you wrap your arms tight around him.

“Ezra,” you sobbed, brokenly. “You came back.”

“Always. It was my greatest fear, shuffling off this mortal coil without seeing my Sunrise one more time.”

And his words made you cry harder again, making his face wet with your tears, but he doesn’t complain. He takes what you dish out, and his arm stays tight around you.

“Tell me about Cee,” you asked, when your tears had started to run dry.

“Sunrise, the tale is a long one, and I fear at this moment in time, my energies would be best spent…. Elsewhere.” He smiled, and his gaze flicked down his body, and you followed the path of those hazelnut eyes and saw his cargo trousers tenting.

Oh.

Part II is now up here

Tagging the Pedro pals & Hummingbird ‘verse friends: @alldatalost @beccaplaying @ezrasarm @abuttoncalledsmalls @winters-buck @songsformonkeys @mrsparknuts @pajamasecrets @the-green-kid @dornish-queen @mrschiltoncat @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @cryptkeepersoul @queenofheavenandhell @badassbaker @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @theravenreads @libellule2001 @engineeredfiction @keeper0fthestars @hiscyarika @auty-ren @emmy-dandiliom918 @paniclana @starlight-starwrites @kindablackenedsuperhero @thisisthe-way @caitlincat-95 @trippedmetaldetector @harryandthatgayvodka @agirllovespasta

Please ask to be added to or released from tags!!

[skiplo-wave]

I have such a soft spot for crossover ships, and you are combining two of my all time favorite comic characters ever! Mark and Peter just make sense! Like... Holy shit why didn't I ever think of that?! Anything you put out for Marker I will inject into my veins! You are amazing!

I have to thank anon that mention the two were in crossover lol

I can't wait for season 2 and 3 of Invincible

I gotta work Peter in there somehow :'D

[amazingmrcinema007]

I just binged through season 1 of Truth Seekers and I absolutely loved it! I think this is a well-acted horror comedy series with some great characters and ideas. I think it strikes a good balance of horror, comedy, and drama as the story unfolds and we gradually learn more about the main characters and their backstories. I can't wait to see how this series progresses because I need more of it injected into my veins!

[helenaklein]

my girls are so in love they're looking at each other with nothing short of utter adoration and devotion like imagine looking at someone as if they singlehandedly hung the stars and seeing them look back at you in the same exact way I'm rl crying I can't wait to inject season 3 directly into my veins

[solomonfiore]

A Night in Kyiv

“I’m an angel who was attending a school of Satan.”

Anatoly Onoprienko

We have broken our way into an abandoned tenement in the slums of Kyiv. Piles of trash are scattered about recklessly. A black pentagram has been spraypainted on the wall. We mark all the squats we occupy this way as a tribute to Beelzebub. The wallet I stole from the old man I stabbed to death in the park earlier that evening has enabled us to spend a little extra money on drugs. A hypodermic needle filled with high-grade heroin sits next to a piss-stained mattress lying on the floor. I stole some vodka from the market on the way back from the Peste Noir concert. Most of the bottle has been finished. We're thoroughly drunk by now. You can't wait to make love. You're already lying back against the side of the mattress with your skirt hiked up over your pale, young legs. Our skin has yet to become leathery and peel away from our bones like it has to a lot of our friends who are addicts, though my track marks are becoming blacker and blacker—the chronic nature of my abuse growing impossible to ignore. I'm grateful that I was able to cop some decent drugs for a change. Due to the grinding poverty we are forced to endure on a daily basis, we often have to use a substance that is less potent and far more toxic than heroin to keep from getting sick. Were it not for the deplorable conditions of our environment we would not have to inject this garbage known as desomorphine. We are smarter than this! We are better than this! But the hopelessness of our situation keeps us down. We cannot raise our voice to our oppressors for fear of reprisal.

After having suppressed my rage throughout my adolescence, I found solace in Satanism. Huysmans once stated that Satanists are no more than disappointed Christians. Well, I am disappointed. Not only in Christ, but in the entire world. I am disappointed with the U.S. and globalization's fallout. I am tired of being caught in the middle of a tug-of-war between Poland and Russia like a helpless child growing up in a dysfunctional household. Centuries of oppression boil inside me, but I’m not allowed to scream. I must suppress this fury.

I’m getting sick. I feel weak. Tingling sensations radiate down over my shoulders, emptying out into my legs.

You want to make love, but I tell you we must shoot up first.

You have only been using needles for a week. You were twelve when you became my lover. Now you are thirteen. Your arms are as white as a Calla lily drenched in a gauze of mist. They show no trace of abuse. You’re still inexperienced and squeamish so I have to inject you myself.

Everything unfolds before us in black and white as if we were actors in a film. Our favorite scene gets played back over and over again unto eternity. I hear your breath in my ear while I find a tender, blue vein under the light of the moon. The plunger descends beneath my thumb and memories of our love are pushed back into my mind…

You were lost when I met you. The drowning ghost of Ophelia lived inside you. And your emerald eyes climbed out of the black waters of your long hair to cling to me for dear life. I introduced you to the Devil and you embraced His power wholeheartedly. I took sadistic pleasure in seeing what heresies you were willing to commit in His name. We vandalized and burned churches together when I wasn't introducing you to the lowliest depths of sexual degradation. But as our fascination with the occult grew into an obsession, it became apparent that we had both become equally enmeshed within a web of inescapable evil. Murder became more than just a means of fueling our habit. It became a mainstay.

We left a string of killings behind us. We talked about them for hours together, recalling certain details about the incidents that one of us may have missed in the heat of the slaughter. For instance, you were particularly interested in what our victims were wearing. Whether it was the diamond brooch we pilfered from your aunt after clubbing her to death in the schoolyard or the ring I had slid from off the finger of a dismembered hand seconds before proposing to you under a sanguine moon, you always had an eye for accoutrement. You remembered the pattern of the knickers that the street vendor from Andriyivskyy Descent wore when we stripped him down at the abandoned factory and forced him to drink drain cleaner, putting cigarettes out on his chest as he ingested the toxic concoction. After removing a pauper's private parts with a box cutter and feeding them to his dog, you kept its collar, not only as a memento, but to wear around your own neck as a fashion statement. You always had a strong sense for aesthetics.

What fascinated me was how some of our victims would assume an entirely passive stance once they came to the realization that their death was inevitable while others would scream like bloody hell until their very last breath. A trucker we ambushed on Hertsena Street was surprisingly resigned after I had slit his throat. Having worked at a slaughterhouse, I knew it took considerable time for a pig to die after this. Instead of panicking or trying to escape, he just lay there in the brush beside us, surrounded by tall stalks of hazel grass as a burbling fountain of maroon viscera bubbled out of his mouth. Watching the individual suffer is half the entertainment when committing a homicide. He wasn't animated enough so I stabbed him in the eyes with his own house keys hoping that would jolt him into action, but he hardly flinched. We took turns carving upside down crosses into the fat of his thighs but he nary moved an inch. On the other hand, a young woman and her five-year-old daughter would prove to be quite the handful. Not the daughter. The daughter behaved in much the same fashion as the old man, though I only know this from what you’ve told me. I was busy with Mother Goose. She sure squawked like one. Enough for me to have to stuff her mouth up with my own sock while gutting her. After considering these psychological phenomena, I asked you whether or not you intended to die softly or put up a fight.

Your purple lips curved into a serene smile. Lightly dusted with pollen from an upturned window box of chrysanthemums nearby, your cheeks betrayed an ever so slight blush of excitement. Bearing the tenderness of a kitten and the immaculate aura of a cherub, you answered thus:

“If it is for my Master, the Great Spirit Lucifer, I shall approach my grave with open arms. He has assured me during His visits that we will have a place beside Him at the foot of His throne so long as we have done His bidding on the material plane. The violence of our passion burns with a flame intense enough to carry us into the netherworld where we will rejoice together in love everlasting."

The Gods of the Pit must have been watching out for us. For we had successfully taken out almost a dozen people without a trace of the law in sight. But the season of our good fortune would abruptly change one afternoon.

We had been terrorizing a homeless woman in a field just outside of Puscha-Vodytsia. Cold drizzle pelted us as I smashed her head in with a shovel. Amping up the bludgeoning to a hyperbolic frequency, you, my ashen-haired accomplice, whipped her with the branch of a tree. In beige, mercurial gobs, the three of our shadows fused to create a single form projected onto the shivering walls of grass around us. The ghostly reflection of our struggle wavered in the wind. She whimpered and drooled as her brains spilled out of the top of her cracked skull with the same disorder as the tentacles of a freshly beached squid. On a trail less than a yard away, a little boy happened to be riding his bicycle. I knew he recognized you as the missing girl in the papers because he stopped momentarily to get a better look at the scene. I tried to catch him but he sped away.

Now we are on the run, hiding out in the slums of the Ukraine.

Your beauty shines through the gray pall of the room. You excite me beyond measure despite the potency of the heroin. I'm no longer paralyzed by the grinding stress of being hunted amidst a country about to go to war when I’m entering the clean, silky haven of your insides. It seems I could live off your spit and your fluids forever when we are bound together physically. I see the look in your pleading eyes and know what you want me to do. I wrap my hands around your throat and start to squeeze. It’s hard for me to stay focused on making love to you while I'm choking you, but I do it because you’ve come to love it so much. I derive no pleasure from this. I have to be careful not to deface your fragile skin or use too much pressure while at the same time maintaining my own level of arousal. This is difficult for me, particularly when I'm high. I do this strictly for you.

You’ve told me you’ve experienced visions of the Beast while being throttled and tonight something wondrous happens. Lucifer comes to visit, not just you, but both of us while our bodies are entwined together in that squalid lair. Inky jets of smoke climb out from the back of your head as you speak in tongues entirely foreign to this world. Sweaty bundles of pale yellow and green fungi growing on the far wall behind us swell to life. An oozing globule of sulfuric vapors congeals to form a static cloud in the shape of the Horned God. He stands over us, calling upon us to express our devotion to Him through the throes of our lust as we writhe about the floor in throes of illicit rapture. Your face begins to twitch as I apply extra pressure to your platysma muscle, clenching my teeth together so tightly they threaten to pierce the insides of my mouth. Your throat—so pure and white that it never so much as reveals the horizontal stress lines that all of us possess from infancy on—is now wreathed in blue and purple corals of broken blood vessels as ecchymosis sets in from vagal inhibition and the increased strain against your hyoid bone. Your hypoxic climax is a sea of convulsions squirming in my clenched fists. Milky clouds fill up the green domes of your eyes and a tear of black blood runs down your left cheek as my darkness empties into you, blotting out what little you still possessed of your purity like an oil spill spreading out from the center of a crystalline pond.

I collapse on top of you, resting my head atop the thin plate of your solar plexus. You’re coughing violently. You pull yourself out from beneath me. I lift myself up and watch you in silence as you gasp for air while clutching your throat. At first I’m worried I’ve gone too far this time, but you flash me a faint smile to assure me you’re okay once your composure’s regained. I breathe a sigh of relief. I haven’t disappointed Lucifer by denying Him the sacrifice we’ll be offering Him when we execute the joint suicide pact we planned for tomorrow on Walpurgisnacht.

"Regie Satanas," I mumble under my breath.

Solomon Fiore - March 18, 2017

<photos: Aleksandra Petrova>

Special thanks to Aleksandra Petrova of the Kitsune Klan.