#shivers lm

[bwtchr]

Sorry my handwriting is horrid by luigis mansión portrait family tree

[batrachised]

This is one of my favorite LM Montgomery background stories, especially how it reflects the broader themes of the novel in providing a romantic story with darker undertones of resentment and death

[pureanonofficial]

LES MIS LETTERS IN ADAPTATION - Old People are Made to go out Opportunely, LM 4.5.6 (Les Miserables 1972)

“Oh! my mother!” said she. And she sank down as though on the point of death. He grasped her, she fell, he took her in his arms, he pressed her close, without knowing what he was doing. He supported her, though he was tottering himself. It was as though his brain were full of smoke; lightnings darted between his lips; his ideas vanished; it seemed to him that he was accomplishing some religious act, and that he was committing a profanation. Moreover, he had not the least passion for this lovely woman whose force he felt against his breast. He was beside himself with love. She took his hand and laid it on her heart. He felt the paper there, he stammered:— “You love me, then?” She replied in a voice so low that it was no longer anything more than a barely audible breath:— “Hush! Thou knowest it!” And she hid her blushing face on the breast of the superb and intoxicated young man. He fell upon the bench, and she beside him. They had no words more. The stars were beginning to gleam. How did it come to pass that their lips met? How comes it to pass that the birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that May expands, that the dawn grows white behind the black trees on the shivering crest of the hills? A kiss, and that was all. . . . When they had finished, when they had told each other everything, she laid her head on his shoulder and asked him:— “What is your name?” “My name is Marius,” said he. “And yours?” “My name is Cosette.”

[cherfright]

I head canon that he buried Toji on his clan’s property man idc

You know how Satoru says “Love is the most twisted curse of them all”? What if after killing Toji, after reaching his enlightenment and coming from his high that Satoru in a sick perverse way fell in love with his killer. He’s openly mourning the loss of the only man to satisfy that itchhe has when battling and takes Toji’s corpse back to his empty clan home and buried him on his property…

There were no tears, no sadness but this never ending yearning and insatiable need to fight Toji again. Running a finger over each wound on Toji had slashed and carved into body and Toji had slashed and carved into body and lm shivering, the fear mixing in with pleasure as the blood poured out of him.

Toji had penetrated his infinity.

Toji made him touchable.

And if planting a kiss on the man’s cold unmoving lips is sick then Satoru’s a sick fuck cause he’s sliding his tongue in further. @knivash @asininepigeon (y’all get it)

[constantvigilante]

Between Jane and The Blue Castle I'm honestly shocked that I never picked up on how good LM Montgomery was at writing emotional abuse. Neglect, denial, constant nitpicking and repression... Grandmother basically does everything possible to destroy Jane (and have her mother all to her smothering self) that wouldn't be actually provable. Turn her into the smallest shivering version of herself by withholding and cutting her off from emotional warmth while giving her all the external things (food, shelter, clothing) that make her look like she's taking care of her.

It's not quite as prominent a theme in her books as it was for Diana Wynne Jones (and no wonder there given DWJ's upbringing) but it comes up way more than I realized.

Reading TBC book club tags made me realize how judgementally LMM wrote sometimes too despite the whimsy, which solves an old mystery of why I found myself mentally reviewing everyone's appearance at church once during a reread in my early teens. That bite is there throughout her work though they're largely pretty gentle.

[barbwritesstuff]

Ok so lm js I started romancing Vicky (best girl) deserves all the love in the world, but Farro is making it hard XD. After my last PT with romancing Farro, I'm low-key falling in love with the dude.

Also before you take on Blackwell, and gather the pack for one last talk, I chose to howl. Pack. Together. Strong. And your whole pack joins in with you as their new alpha, holy shit it sent shivers down my spine. Such a powerful and emotional moment. I loved it.

The last scene, where everyone is at the large fire reminiscing about the fallen, and then howling "goodbye." I seriously cry every time. Such a beautiful and powerful and yet sad moment. But this is why I love this book sm. These powerful moments. 🥹

💙💙💙💙💙💙

[pipinboots]

✨l can't spell and lm BORED 💀

PERCY WEPON

On the brightest night of the month on a night where many children and adults alike sleep soundly not fearing the creates that creep and thrive in the darkness two gangs square up well not really two gangs more like one gang filled with buff monsters, men and woman alike squared up against 1 scrawny black haired green eyed boy with a death wish the boys sword stabbed deeply in to the ground at the biggest monsters feet.

The gang of Gea laughed at the boy wether it was for his lack of weapon or what he held in his hand instead of his weapon you could make a pretty good guess. The boy held a small water pistol it was hand painted vibrant blue lines running up and down its black frame, the Monsters laughed all the harder as the boys slowly held up the water pistol, aiming it straight at the heart of the leader of the troop a humungous monitor with a nose posing and a bad attitude to go with it, the boys dazzling green eyes hardening with determination as he did so. the laughter grew all the louder until... it decreases to a awkward murmur soon dwindling as a dark smirk spread across the boys face his green eyes flaring an awe of pure coldness and murder making the beasts quiver in fear. The monitor undeterred by his blood lust boomed “WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH THAT BOY” his rotting breath making the boys nose quiver with discuses “YOUR WEPON IS GORN AND INSTEAD OF RUN YOU STAND STEADY HOLDING A CHILD TOY” the monitor boomed humour lacing his voice, the boy smirk grew all the larger as he listened. Amused by the boys courage the beast boomed again “WHAT IS YOUR NAME BOY BEFOR I TEAR YOU TO SHREADS AND FEAST ON YOUR REMAINS” the kids eyes gleamed with amusement as he slowly walked forward hand never wavering from it’s mark “l am know as the KRAKEN” he said voice growing in strength finally he stoped his slow walk pistol pressed against the leaders heart, the boy looked up a sadistic smile spreading across his face eyes glimmering with malice “and the thing about KRAKENS WE DON’T DIE THAT EASLY” and the monitor fell to the ground a gaping hole where his heart once was water and blood and SCREEMS every where as he disintegrated into dust, two green eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Leo stood out in the cold Leaning against the side of the finally silent  warehouse the SCREEMS had died out mear minuets ago. He shivered, blowing a smoke ring from his inner fire, smiling manically as it curls into a dragon until it fades into the sky, finally the heavy doors slide open light beaming into the other inner darkness revealing a haggard blood splatter Percy Leo skipped towards him arms wrapping around the back of his neck pulling him over to lean about his height “got a little cared away Mr Great KRAKEN” Leo Snickers poking out his tongue in a teasing manner Percy smiled back “your still on cleaning duty Mr Smiling dragon” Percy smirked back Leo cringed at the name “sure sure” he muttered plucking a small canister of is belt  throwing it back into the warehouse. With a humongous BOOM the building erupted in flames a small smile spreading on Leos face at the sight Percy sighed drawing Leo out of his musing “time to go l think” Leo bounced over. And they both strolled away into the darkness sirens blaring in the distance.

[someinstant]

Of course a day that:

* started with an enormous thunderstorm at 6 AM which made me white-knuckle my drive in to work and

* involved a 40 minute tech help call during my planning when I needed to be doing a million other things because the proprietary LMS my district uses shat the bed in an important way, and then

* the tech folks would not listen when I told them what was wrong, even though it turns out I WAS RIGHT because I'm not a fuxking moron, and THEN

* I caught a kid skipping my class, and I like this kid and he's got a lot stacked against him and it isn't just, and he is making Dumb Choices right now because There's a Girl, and it's the First Love, and unfortunately for ALL of us he was bad at not getting caught in a way that means I have to make a referral to admin and I do not want to,

* so as part of procedure I had to call home, and his mom was so upset, and my Spanish is very good, but not good enough to convey how very much I hate being part of a system that punishes kids when we can do better, or at least not in the way I wanted, but I tried,

* I tried, and I then I cried at my desk, then I wiped my eyes and wrote the least condemning referral ever, and then I stopped by two new teachers' rooms on my way out at six after arriving at seven, and helped them with a couple tech issues and lesson strategies,

Of course a day like that ends with me coming home and feeling miserable and shivering and discovering that I'm running a fever.

[flowerbatscanon]

!! First post !! it's just a short fanfic thing also erm English isn't my first language so yeah l Ain't good at writing

Part one of something ldek

so uhm t-tw trans fem miles morales and..o-oc x canon ☹️

Very silly goobers

(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) !!

Ahh , yes just the nice and quiet night just nothing there to destroy this ever lasting silence that was laid upon the city at this hour surely nothing bad w-

— “a random girl..from a portal?! What is this harry potter!“ Gabby thought to herself as she put on her mask and tried to investigate, she was standing on top of a building pretty high up so she had a good view of her visitor

Miles got up and groaned in pain there was no need for that stupid portal machine to throw her hard like calm down jesus! She cleaned herself up just a little bit , she started to tremble as this universe was wayyy too cold for her liking l mean she really wishes she had went with a suit design that had fur for sure!

—"ugh it's cold! And my suit is all damaged.." she just muttered for herself only to hear about looked around Gabby wasn't noticed by miles.. yet

and she thought why not just spook the visitor l mean she didn't even bring a jacket pfftt 'what a loser' she thought little does she know tho.

She quickly jumped down from the building behind miles, yep she was sufficiently taller she politely first tapped miles on the shoulder making her to turn around and look at gabby, Gabby didn't even give her a second to blink and yelled

—"WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE." Obviously this startled miles but gabby never really learned how to control the volume of her voice

—"uh? Im m-" she didn't even finish

—"state your purpose right now!" Gabby yelled but the "now" at the end sounded more like a "meow" cuz her mask was making her words come out muffled as such

Miles looked at gabby for a split second

—"state my purpose meow?"

She asked confused

—"are you mocking me right now!?" Still the same thing the "now" at the end being heard as "meow" by miles

—“What!? No no- lm not mocking you just-" miles exclaimed trying to prove that no she wasn't mocking gabby obviously!

Gabby took off her mask looked

—“ugh do you hear me better now." she asked quite angrily obviously trying to hide her embarrassment

—“yeah!“ miles claimed and slightly chuckled

—“anyways.. who ARE you." She asked miles looking at her quite judgmentally.. unnecessary..

—"lm uhm miles morales from earth 1610! Im t-"

—“Yeah yeah, you where bitten by a radioactive spider blah blah..but my real question is what are you doing here ...

She paused

did you come to see me? :3“ she looked at miles with now a soft and actually not so delicate smile she was fidgeting with her hands while asking this question in practical

I mean she knew the girl didn't know her but hey worth a shot

—“l mean.. well " Miles started to get nervous quite a bit

—“nah lm just.. joking with you l know you have no idea who am." she chuckled and gave miles a little rub on the back

The wind started to pick up

—"ugh it's cold" miles hugged herself trying to keep herself warm , as she shivered she looked down not really sure where to go on from here

—"want my jacket?"

Gabby asked miles with a small smile on her lips

—"l- well..l mean sure" she gladly accepted the offer and put on the jacket, yeah it was way to big..

[stagbells]

"Monarch Wings & Other Broken Things"

From: @inkhorn-art​

To: @chrysopeony​

Note:  I wrote this half out of my mind from covid, so I hope it's semi-enjoyable :,) I'm also writing a second part to fulfill the rest of your request!! I'll put it on my ao3 (ink_horn) soon in case you were interested :) Merry Christmas!!!!!!

Written work under readmore

(Drive version: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1d7HnOV-lM-4zZ6j9NJY9gsK9TuB-RfOtaj99hwzFSIY/edit )

"Monarch Wings & Other Broken Things"

On the threshold of the Abyss, they are alone, and the only voice is the howling wind from somewhere above.

A long, thin arm wakes the vessel from sleep, dry black fingers dragging softly against the length of their shell and tickling their face, making them shiver. With a sudden dawning fear, they bolt upright, startling at the appendage of a very large creature looming above.

(Surely it means to eat them, reaching down with its arm in such a way..!)

However, as the vessel peers closely, the arm is no more than a black root, moved by the wind's will.

Still sitting, they sleepily reach up and the root. It doesn’t respond. Perhaps dead.

Their breath slows in their chest as they fold their arms back into their cloak. Dust, which covers the ground, has managed to get stuck in the sockets of their face. It is barely felt.

There are many more of such hanging roots, gently swaying, none quite reaching the barren ground where tufts of black grass struggled to grow. Despite the rock all around, still life grew wherever a crack could be found. In the ceiling above, the cracks were everywhere.

(In the faintest of light, the vessel can see outlines of things within the rock walls that are not quite rock, yet not quite something else, things that may have once been alive.)

Within the cavern all around, the faintest of faint, weakly fending off the heavy darkness in every corner. Light and wind, both hailing from places above this one.

Above.

So the world isn’t just that place after all. There was more, somewhere, unseen. But what?

The vessel can feel it, stronger than before, the wind. It hides inside of their shell with raking, scraping claws. 

In the pit below, the voices are endless. Still, they are fading. Soon, the only voice will be the howling wind from somewhere else.

This the vessel observes, lying unmoving on the hardened basin ground, as if dead.

They attempt to sleep once more, curling into their cloak. There are scratches on their hands, bruises on their arms and legs from climbing and falling and getting up and climbing again. Time is passing, and the pain is beginning to pass also, slowly but surely.

The vessel was born in that place below. They almost died leaving it. They are tired still. So, so tired. 

They sleep, and dream of a thousand white faces of others far, far below in the darkness, looking up. 

◎

Something different wakes them the second time. Something alive.

The vessel hears it on the path behind, a scraping, a breathing. They hurry to stand, kicking small rocks and pulling up grass.

They have no weapon, but as they search the ground, something silver glints in the dust. A long, silver pole with a pronged end, four sharp points carved to resemble a lethal crown. A broken piece lies next to it, a dirty sign filled with marks they cannot read.

A kingstaff, once standing, now fallen. The vessel picks it up and almost loses their balance; the pole is heavy, and almost twice their height.

A dark cloth is tied to the top, and dances in the wind. The metal stings with chill as the staff sways in their hands, back and forth. It is poorly balanced, but it should suffice.

A dark figure approaches.

From the path comes a small, twitching mass, closer and closer, crawling on all fours instead of just two.

(There is no voice, but there is almost a weeping that is not entirely the wind's.)

The vessel hefts their pale staff. Despite its unbalance, holding it feels not unnatural.

From the shadows, a pale face emerges.

The figure regards them with no sound, no emotion, no fear. Four horns on its head, as opposed to the vessel’s own three. Besides this, the two are identical. The vessel lowers their silver staff, pointing the crown at the ground.

Like the rock around them, the other’s face is marred by deep fissures and cracks, and dust leaks from the holes as well as a darker liquid. Pieces of its mask are gone entirely, revealing an inky blackness beneath.

It is that emptiness that the vessel can hear, that marks the other as Kin.

The damaged other tremblingly regards the vessel, and something besides words pass between them, two who survived the ascent out of Darkness itself.

Another vessel.

Then it, too, lays down to rest with a violent collapsing thud, raising a cloud of dust from the ground as its body moves up and down with silent breath.

Gripped with wariness, the vessel does not approach. Their sibling. Their kin. These are words they knew before all others, before they knew of such a thing as words. But out of the Abyss, nothing could be the same as it was.

Moments pass. The body of their siblings falls still, the soft tendrils of its cloak curling and uncurling, teased by the wind. Eventually, their sibling stops breathing. The wind howls, and the walls weep with the most ancient of dust.

Its broken mask, almost entirely stained with black, rests sideways on the ground, and seems to watch the vessel. The caverns around them groan; the rock beneath is already beginning to feed, another husk to strengthen the ancient basin.

Layers of heavy shadows twist, alive. Above the body rises a crown of four black horns, and pale, pale eyes stare at the vessel from the dark, or perhaps it is the dark, and the dark howls—

They run. 

Towards the wind, who pushes back at them with whistling shrieks, cold teeth and claws. Towards the dim light, which grows stronger with every step, as if beckoning.

They run.

Soon, the vessel slows to a walk, but keeps a swift pace. To stop now could mean death.

They watched carefully the walls as if they had teeth and gaping mouths. Every shadow seemed to leap at them, every pocket of wind a howl from a dead, empty throat.

Mouthless, they choke on dust. They turn their head to look at the behind path, and nothing is following. Nothing with eyes, at least.

There is no turning back now.

The paths wind endless, roots and cracks and jagged walls. For a time, the vessel walks, and though they are tired, they fear the fate of their left-behind sibling, and do not stop.

The basin shifts, slowly, slowly, becoming something entirely else.

Silvery archways begin to appear on the ceilings, carved out of the basin in deliberate patterns with pillars to hold them, and rows of gray spikes resembling lustrous teeth emerge from the ground. The path grows less uneven, the roots reaching down bigger than before, and fences of black, pointed spears are everywhere.

They pass more silver kingstaffs, planted firmly in the rock instead of abandoned in the dust. Some have signs with marks they don’t understand, and some have signs with arrows pointing in various directions. They, at least, understand the purpose of these, and follow the directed paths.

The wind blows. It doesn’t stop.

A pale and blinding light, unlike any other the vessel has yet seen, is waiting in the distance.

Another lighthouse? Could it be?

Looking into the light brings unexpected pain, but not a moment is wasted before they’re taking a step, walking, running, towards the light. As they grow closer, shadows begin to die one by one, and there is no untouched corner.

A cacophony of scratching and clicking fills the caves as the vessel approaches. Strange creatures begin to emerge from all sides, one, then two, then ten, on the ceiling, on the walls, small dust-colored bugs with layers of pointed shells that shifted and scraped as unseeable legs carried them.

The eyes of these creatures, dark and empty, seemed not to notice the vessel’s passing presence. Perhaps they were blind. All take similar heed of the light in the distance, as if it wasn’t there at all.

The vessel enters a cavern that is lavished in silvery arches and armored walls, the black root arms of the basin curling around massive shells of creatures in the walls, turned to stone. Below the blinding light, the vessel can see dark smoke rising from the dusty ground, as well as black specks of nothingness, rising and rising.

The pale and blinding light reveals itself to be only a very tall ornate lamp of some kind. 

(The vessel strikes the ground at this, rolls their head at this, kicks up dust at this.)

The lamp is another of the silver staffs with crowns of deadly sharp claws, and atop this one, a glass sphere filled with flies, the source of the light. The flies' wings are white, blinking and flashing like ten eyes. Never once do they cease, imprisoned in eternal flight.

(Similar flies had dwelled in the lighthouse, a thousand of them within a much bigger glass sphere. Similar was the fate of the tens of thousands of wingless, lightless creatures who dwelled outside.

So it was; a smaller lighthouse with no water in sight.)

Beneath the lamp is a bench. The vessel sits. Rests. The wind is quiet, here, barely a whisper. Perhaps they now sat in the maw of an enormous creature that had been blowing air out of its great mouth for this entire time. 

Forebodingly, the vessel notices the nearby ground, how it descends into a pit that is filled with rows and rows of the gray, teeth-like spikes.

Next to the vessel, one of the small dust-colored creatures has climbed onto the bench, and it sits, making quiet clicking sounds. The two rest in unison.

The vessel readjusts their grip on their pale staff, for it had slipped out of unsteady hands. In the places untouched by light, impenetrable shadows live where gentle dusk might once have. The vessel can no longer see outside of the range of the lamplight.

The wind is silent, now. In its place, a roaring is growing louder.

The vessel stands, quicker than a shadow.

In the next moment, a raw shriek sounds from outside the cavern, echoing inside anything it could reach. 

HUNGER, HUNGER, the echoes seem to wail.

Claws violently rake and scrape the basin floor as a creature flings itself out of a tunnel, roaring its ravenousness. The vessel sees only a glimpse of a dark, round body covered in eyes and teeth and black flailing limbs before the creature leaps, slamming into them with immense force and sending them flying. The staff is knocked out of their hands by the impact.

On the ringing ground, they lie there with their face in the dust and black grass, unable to move from the shock of the blow. 

The roars of the beast are reduced to a dull noise as the vessel catches only a single glimpse of an expanding black abyss of teeth and a glistening throat as the beast—

—scurries right past. Past the prone, shaking vessel.

With another shriek, the flailing beast descends upon… something on the ground. One of the small dust-colored creatures that had been sitting on the bench. The beast had flipped it onto its back, rendering it decidedly helpless as it wiggled rows of short legs to reveal a white underbelly.

The top of the beast's head is lined with a circle of large claw-like teeth, and a clear, glistening liquid leaks from its mouth as it burbles with excitement. Its body moves, hiding the smaller creature from view as it raises a thin claw to pierce its belly.

The vessel looks away. Now, a black oily liquid is leaking over their eye socket. They put their hand on their face, feeling the thin outline of a crack. Pieces and pieces. Emptiness within reach. 

Though there is no pain, the vessel begins to tremble. They think only of their four-horned sibling, who had been covered in many cracks, who had been eaten by darkness that had escaped from the inside.

The vessel crawls back towards the bench as the beast murmurs with wild glee, sitting on the border where the light abruptly ended. Beneath its teeth is a row of dark, pupiless eyes. The ones on the back of its head seem to watch the vessel.

They rise, staggering to their feet, to pick up their silver staff. The beast is bigger than they, though not by much. Its teeth were busy feeding, its claws distracted. To pierce its flesh with the prongs of their staff, to kill, it would be easy. 

The eyes on the back of the beast’s head watch the vessel, and blink.

"HUNGER?" it suddenly says.

The vessel does not move.

The beast undulates its sharp spider-like legs, fluttering its teeth as it rises from its sitting place. On the ground, the small creeper is now little more than dark pieces of shell. Living creepers move slowly along the walls nearby, ignorant—or perhaps uncaring—of the death of their kin.

The beast appears to regard the vessel’s pale staff, its deadly spiked crown, how it glows luminous in the light of the lamp. The vessel, in turn, watches the beast’s sharp legs carefully.

“PAIN…” the beast rumbles deeply. “YOU HUNGER… FOR NO PAIN?”

Again, the vessel stares.

The beast huffs hoarsely, teeth flexing at the ceiling.

“PAIN… AWAY,” the beast insists. “HUNGER, AWAY. MAWLEK GIVES FLESH? TO PALE ONE?”

Oh. The beast was offering an exchange. For food, of some kind, if their weapon is cast aside. The vessel wavers at this.

They have never known hunger, have never needed it. And perhaps this creature is not the only one of its kind lurking in this shadowy place.

The Mawlek moves restlessly, agitated as it turns in slow circles, every eye watching the vessel's pale staff. Perhaps it has felt the sting of one before, or one similar. The Mawlek’s dark body is marked with silver lines, the color of metal.

(Thus, the vessel learns the meaning of the word fear.)

Their hand reaches for the crack in their mask, the split reaching their eye. The Mawlek doesn’t seem to notice, too fixated on the weapon they held in their hand. Perhaps it doesn’t even know what it has done. After all, it seems as though it had a different target all along.

To kill, it would not be easy. Not when the Mawlek is on its guard like this. But it could be done.

The vessel looks away from the lamp above the bench. Brightly it blazed even when they turned away. It was beginning to burn their mind away in the looking.

The beast grunts loudly when the vessel drops the staff on the bench. The vessel tenses, preparing to flee when suddenly, the Mawlek’s entire body begins to… pulse, and stretch.

Gurgling deep in its throat, the Mawlek chokes, a wretched noise that fills the cavern. Then, bowing its head towards the feet of the vessel, it noisily spits out a sizable chunk of… something, covered in thick, opaque saliva.

The vessel regards the steaming glob at their feet, before looking back at the Mawlek.

The beast shivers its dripping crown of teeth with enthusiasm, as though pleased.

A dark mass is within the spit. A piece of the small creeper it had consumed moments prior. It is clear that the beast is waiting for them to reach down and take it. To eat.

The vessel hesitantly reaches into the glob, closing their hand around the chunk, then immediately rears back. Their hand suddenly erupts with a dull, stinging pain, as if little invisible teeth were closing around their hand. The Mawlek bellows, rubbing its front legs together.

“NO HURT, PAIN,” it insists. Then it whispers, “...AWAY. AWAY…”

The vessel holds up their hand, and flecks of saliva fall to the ground.

The Mawlek’s saliva… burned.

However, even now, the pain was already beginning to fade.

The Mawlek makes clicking noises with its mouth, its impatience obvious.

“EAT, EAT,” it croons. “THEN, WE HIDE. LOST ONE. FOUND ONE.”

The vessel looks at the wet chunk of dead flesh in their hand. It resembles nothing, in this state. They are uncertain what exactly to do with it.

They look again at the Mawlek, its jaws pointing upwards with teeth spread like a deadly flower.

Perhaps the vessel, too, has teeth above the eyes, and a mouth on top of their head.

Without hesitation, the vessel shoves the chunk of flesh directly into their eye socket, a drop of hot saliva running down their face, and drops the chunk when it passes through. They have no difficulty in doing this. The meat had been thoroughly soused beforehand, after all.

The chunk disappears, presumably eaten (?).

At this, the Mawlek shrieks in delight, eyes rolling. The beast turns in the direction it had come, and starts limping away into the dark.

However, before it goes, it lurches to a stop. Its rear eyes regard the vessel, who is standing in the blazing light of the lamp.

“DANGER… FOLLOW, FOLLOW,” the Mawlurk beckons with a groan. “THIS WAY… AWAY FROM LIGHT.”

The vessel feels a pull in their chest. It weighs like flesh, turned to stone.

From light. Away.

The radiant ornate lamp with its crown of light. The vessel has somewhat grown to fear the dark, in their moments spent shielded under its glow. They could sleep here on the bench. They could be safe from the dark with eyes, and the eyeless dark.

Faintly, the wind picks up again, howling from somewhere else; to somebody, or nobody. The vessel had almost forgotten its voice.

The light burns their gaze, almost more than the acid of the Mawlek. The crack in their mask is set, and bleeds no longer. It was time to return to the forward path.

The vessel trembles the tendrils of their cloak, and dust falls in a slow descent towards the ground, black smoke rising to meet it. They step forward to follow the Mawlek, who burbles and clicks its teeth, a delighted look in its many eyes (truly, it was difficult to fear this monstrous bug).

The vessel looks back at the lamp, mouthless, swallowing uncertainty. Certainly, they will be back here. When they make their return to the Abyss, to where their siblings wait.

The vessel forgets to pick up their silver staff from the bench, and thinks of it no more.

◎

It is here, within the great nest of the Mawleks, does the vessel truly realize how young their friend actually was, how small in size compared to the adults of the brood, and how friendly.

Which is to say, the moment the vessel enters the nest, a Mawlek five times their size immediately eats them.

They are between the jaws of a full-grown adult Mawlek—limbs flailing as boiling breath engulfs their head and wet teeth closes around their body—when they hear their friend hissing and spitting with great ferocity. Soon after, the elder spits them out with a growl.

Body burning and cloak dripping with acid saliva, the vessel lays wetly on the ground, warily observing their friend attempt to jump on top of the much bigger Mawlek and pierce its body with pointed legs.

Gurgling in annoyance, the adult Mawlek bites at the younger as it retreats, heavy legs scraping against stone. However, the elder beast did not seem particularly afraid, as if it was just appeasing the child.

“PALE THING, YOU TASTE OF DUST,” the disgruntled Mawlek hisses at the vessel from the retreating dark, rasping and drooling; the ground seethes wherever saliva touches it. “YOU TASTE OF DEATH. LIGHT, DANGER…”  

The vessel hears the echo of its groaning long after the brooding Mawlek is gone.

With a satisfied grunt, the lesser Mawlek burbles its satisfaction.

In dim light made dimmer by the tight, confined caverns and tunnels, they can faintly see other Mawleks, rings of them huddled together in groups. Most appeared only to slumber, the noises they made as they slept creating a great, low drone that shook the very ground itself.

Empty shells of shadow creepers were everywhere. If there are discarded masks, they are strange, unfamiliar.

“THIS WAY,” the juvenile Mawlek hisses to them. “...FRIEND. SHOW YOU… SOMETHING.”

The vessel follows, the tunnel winding deeper. There is almost no light, save for the glint of the Mawlek’s eyes, the well do they know how to walk within dark places.

It isn’t certain, the reason why they are following a Mawlek deep into a nest filled with other, larger, hungrier Mawleks. They don’t know where they are going. They don’t know when they will leave.

If they'll leave.

But…

The beast had called them earlier. Friend.

What this means, the vessel does not know. But they will walk into darkness away from light, if this beast called them to.

The tunnel gets tighter and tighter, as if swallowing them. The vessel is forced to crawl on their knees, cloak dragging in the walls of dirt, dirtying it further.

The Mawlek seemed to be faring much better, having folded its body into a somewhat flat disc as its legs carried it forward, obviously much more suited to being underground. Never once does the Mawlek stop humming and murmuring, words that the vessel can’t quite make out.

And then…

“BROOD, BROOD.”

The tunnel opens.

They find themself in a small, dense cave surrounded by jagged rock, and the ground is covered in layers and layers of dust and black grass piled all over the ground. The shells of small dead creatures sit in piles in odd corners, deliberately gathered. The heat of the cave was close to boiling.

Within the darkness, one hundred eyes open and shift to look at the pair as several dozen Mawleks notice the two's presence. These Mawleks share the same small size as the one beside the vessel.

In the center of the low-ceilinged cave sat a beast much, much larger from the rest, enormous and round with rows of quivering teeth, each bigger than the vessel’s own body. It did not appear to have legs. The smaller Mawleks were swarmed around it, gathered close. 

A mother.

Sensing the foreign presence of something other, the Mawlurk shifted her pale eyes to meet their gaze, though not directly. She seemed to nearly be blind. 

“BROOD… SIBLINGS,” their Mawlek friend proudly gurgles. “MOTHER, MOTHER…”

The vessel watches as the Mawlek scurries towards its kin, and the hushed, quiet voices all at once became a dry roar of noise, hissing and buzzing and clicking.

The vessel takes a step back. Unsure.

They watch as the beasts socialize, jumping on top of one another and wrestling with noisy ferocity, slashing legs and growling jaws. Their friend disappears quickly in the dust-filled turmoil, as every Mawlek sibling looked the same.

Meanwhile, a single Mawlek goes before its mother, bowing its head as it spasms and spits out the slimy remains of some dead creature. The Mawlurk croons low and deep in her throat, and the vessel can feel the rumbling of it within their shell.

They were born here. They belonged here, sitting in the dark. It was very nearly the same thing as dying.

Suddenly, it was though the very ceilings of the cave were on the verge of collapse, as if they were about to crumble and fall and crush every living thing beneath.

So many eyes in the dark, all the same.

Into the tunnel, the vessel returns to a brighter darkness once again.

◎

On the forward path, the wind howls. It always does. 

The vessel walks, and walks. They always do.

Where they are wandering, they do not know. There is no light to follow, and no Mawleks to guide them. They are alone once more.

The basin is truly barren and desolate. Only the most primitive, light-fearing creatures live in this most ancient of places, shadow creepers and those that eat them.

There is nothing here for the vessel. And only darkness waits behind.

The vessel walks, and walks. Nothing more follows, hungry or not.

The cavern that the vessel enters next is the largest they have seen yet. The ceiling itself is so high that it is almost hidden in the gloom, and light is everywhere.

Then, the path ends, and the road begins.

Something new under their feet. The vessel looks down, cloak billowing in the wind. The ground looks as though it had been removed, and in place of shells and rock, polished stones laid out in shining patterns. Silvery gilded fences topped with pointed spikes firmly line the path. As they walk, they see kingstaffs in many places, proud pale rods with crowns of spikes.

There is no want of light here. Little lanterns, with glass spheres and flies, are every few paces. 

At their feet, a bridge.

In the distance, a pale light that the vessel has not beheld even in a dream, nor even, a nightmare.

The vessel takes a step forward onto the bridge, then stops, voices sounding from the behind path.

They are frozen in plain view at the foot of the bridge as two creatures approach. White bodies and white clothes, with white horns, short and very wide. Both are adorned in blue stones unlike any found in these caverns. So pale are these creatures that the two appear almost to glow.

"In this dark place, there are no echoes of life anywhere," one says. "Still, a breathing in my ears, a not-quite heartbeat. Could it be that the very walls are alive?"

"T-the echo of something gone weighs heavier than the touch of something found," the other replies. "When one is b-born in darkness, even pale light would seem… an enemy."

The pair's words fall short with an abrupt pause as they stare at the small vessel in front of them, each with dawning expressions of great shock. The vessel watches the two strangely clothed creatures as they become flustered and agitated respectively.

"O-oh. How… how pale you are, wanderer," one stammers, clutching their silken robes; their head lowers, hiding their eyes as if afraid to look at the vessel. "Y-you are not a retainer. What is your purpose here, at the threshold of our King's radiant dwelling? Few know t-the location of this place, after all. Are you kin, perh—"

"Shh! Pale!?" the other seethes, fumbling with the smooth blue stone attached to their throat. "Gilded! False! Pale of shell it may seem, but none more than a mere reflection of the true light before us!"

"Furthermore, it is filthy," the same creature adds with a spiteful tone, glaring down at the vessel with contempt. "Kin. Pfah! Blasphemy!"

"O-oh. I suppose, you are correct," the other replies, and the two continue forward once more, walking past the vessel and down the bridge. "The King does not tarnish. The King does not break. And it is broken. D-did you see? That ghastly mark on its head?"

"Precisely. And please, dirty wanderer," one calls from ahead. "Do not stay for long, and do not cross this bridge! Your very presence is tarnishing the threshold of our radiant King. Return to the mindless wilds from whence you came!"

With that, the creatures walk away, their words never ceasing all the while, until both fade from sight.

The vessel stands at the threshold. And then, the vessel follows, crossing the bridge towards the light, which calls them by name, though the vessel had not one.

In the distance, a palace of white, the very monument to light itself. It is the dream upon which dreams are built. It is from here that the howling wind was blowing from. Laughing, crying, weeping, dying. How similar it all sounded.

More white-robed creatures are moving along the road. Most congregate in groups before walking inside the palace itself.

(The vessel is careful to walk low, and behind the silver spiked fences.)

At the gate of the palace, a figure taller than the rest is standing perfectly still. Watching. Waiting.

Armored in white, a tall spiked crown hides its face from view. Within its four hands, a large, hooked blade with serrated teeth is ominously held, poised for combat.

As if sensing a foreign gaze, the armored figure slowly turns its head to look at the vessel in the far distance. Their eyes meet.

Suddenly, the creature is still no longer. Its long legs deftly carry it away from the palace, past the gates and the white robed creatures, only stopping at the foot of the bridge where the vessel stood.

From within a cold shadow, the vessel looks up at the white crowned creature standing in front of them.

It is much, much bigger up close. 

Slowly, its neck bends until its head is looking down at them. Underneath its helmet, a sliver of white eyes were watching, and they were empty.

The creature slightly bends at one knee, as if to bow. Then, it raises its large, curved blade high above the vessel's head.

The road goes on, and on, and on.

[judgedreddthelaw]

Black Female Warlock Guardian x Shiro-4 (18+)

Part 3 B

…….you unintentionally moan loud after you feel his hand traveling down your dress. His fingers traveled in between your thighs, lifting the ends of the fabric pulling it up and then into the sweet spot you so wished for so long to be touched. You feel his finger pushing your panties aside and lightly toying with your clit. While he gradually toys with you, you feel him start to rub against you, feeling him starting to harden. Your eyes roll at the feeling in the front and behind you biting your lip desperately suppressing a moan so Amanda and the other person doesn’t hear you. You start to get hot all over and you’re starting to sweat. You uncontrollably move your hips like you were riding his fingers and his fingers that were just toying your clit accidentally go in your folds when you were grinding. Your panting gradually gets a little loud every 3 seconds, you were feeling good and you were sopping wet at this point. Your pant becomes a slight moan, then pleading whimper “Fuuuuck………

Yes, right there.” His fingers in your folds start to pace a bit faster you can hear your pussy make a sopping noise as he fucks you with his hands. But it’s not enough you can’t help but lean towards the wall with your head, and you start to move your butt back into his hand to fuck yourself faster. You were only able to get 3 hard thrusts before Shiro hand to put his hand against your mouth and lifting your top half of your body back into his, you were staring to get too loud. “I think we take this to the ship.” He whispers in your ear as he keeps finger fucking you now slower pace………..You lay your head back onto him as you were too hypnotized by the feeling. “Please, don’t stop I’m almost…………...lm almost………………fuck I’m almost there I’ll be quiet I promise…………please, I’ll be a good girl.” How you pleaded sent shivers down his exo spine, Shiro had to take a moment not to go over board, he thought. That was until you turn around pulling him against you with your lips finding his plates again even though you thought you couldn’t deepen the kiss somehow he does. The pure satisfaction that you get when you hear him do his own exo version of him making deep rapid breaths like he’s coming undone, “God your so fucking wet right now, can………..can you be quiet if I fuck you with my hand now?” You nod your head rapidly, “I hope so, because bad girls get punished for breaking their promise we wouldn’t want that now do we?” You shook your head and look into his eyes with haziness and swallow saliva forming in your mouth that’s watering because of the sexy tone of his voice. He moves his plates to your neck you feel that light shiver but it feels great since it’s him. Your feeling his hand on the back of your thigh, gripping it then pulling it up so he can get a better angle at your folds. He leans into your body he starts the process again but slowly making you squirm at his touch. You breathe heavy but slowly enjoying the slowness smiling into his neck and kissing. As you kissed his neck you wondered if he really felt it or not so start to slowly lick while kissing, you hear a breathy moan not sure if it’s from that or the fact he loves fingering you. You get a little brave and try to nibble on the “soft” part of the exo neck where you read somewhere in an exo anatomy book there are sensitive areas. There are sensors like nerves in a human, that they can feel, from the soft parts. He makes a noise like a guttural growl “Behave my angel.”, moving his hand and wrist faster to fuck you. Your head whiplashes back as you gasp. You close your mouth and cover it with his shoulder so you aren’t loud, but you’re about to lose your fucking mind. You feel it in your gut, you’re going to cum right here, right now and starting to convulse you clench your legs together around his hand and couldn’t stop the LOUD moan leaving your lips “Oh fuck yes!” You were ready to cum any second now………Shiro halted his movements after your moan. With shock you look at him as he takes out his dripping wet hand away from your wet pussy and wipes it on the inside of the bottom of the shirt he borrowed. “I asked you to be quiet, I guess you broke your promise, this action will not go unpunished………. Now you don’t get to come until I let you.”

You look at him wide eyed unable to breathe. As he backs away from you keeping his optics on your form, he beckons with his finger just as you did to him. “Now, come here.” He softly speaks to you, catching your breath again you slowly follow him up into your ship, you have a feeling your just getting started.

To be continued…….

[batrachised]

My reread of the Aogg series has been an absolute pleasure. Here are my thoughts on the first three books; I think of these as being their own set, because they tell the story of Gilbert and Anne's relationship. The only other book that focuses on them and their relationship consistently is AHOD--which I think will be deserving of its own post because tonally it's slightly different, more mature due to a more mature Anne. (Anne of Windy Poplars, I love you, but again my memory is mostly letters to Gilbert about other events--mayhaps I shall eat my words).

Anne of Green Gables

You know, I never revisited the first book because it wasn't my favorite--but reading it, I can tell why this one is the classic. Anne is a lovable eleven year old, the characters are all to a one delightful, the antics believable yet entertaining, and the conflicts all pointing to an overarching story of growth and love. I love how Marilla only can tell Anne that Marilla loves her after Matthew's death, and that Anne only becomes friends with Gilbert after hearing of Marilla's past with John Blythe. I love, above all, the moment where Matthew softly tells Anne to keep a little of her romance. What's remarkable is how, although most readers are in very different circumstances than little Anne, it's so easy to understand where Anne is coming from--because she tells you! "Wouldn't you be this dramatic if you were me?" "Oh, Marilla, you’d be excited, too, if you were going to meet a little girl you hoped to be your bosom friend and whose mother mightn’t like you," shivers tiny Anne, and the reader instantly understands, even if not eleven, or not a little girl, or not on PEI in the late 1800s--why yes, that would be nerve wracking! We even see this in Mark Twain's quote about Anne being so lovable, a man who most definitely was never an eleven year old orphan girl. Despite my love for LM Montgomery, there are off key chords in all of her other books for me--but this book sticks the landing every time. The ending sentence is my favorite of all of LMM's endings; "God's in his heaven, all's right with his world."

Anne of Avonlea

My love for Mr. Harrison was reinvigorated. I had forgotten about him completely and shamefully, and I'm delighted to have rediscovered him. That being said...this is a book where I tend to like specific chapters instead of the book as a whole. Even as a child, I remember flipping to my favorite chapters rather than rereading the book all the way through, and even as an adult (deep dark confession), I skipped pages more than once. My favorite chapters include the Mr. Harrison chronicles and the brief glimpses with Gilbert that we get, where Anne has to confront whether her daydreams are perhaps not true to life (and--importantly--that true to life romance might be better). I also, for one, love Mrs. Lynde and Marilla living together. Queens.

Anne of the Island

My primary thought: AAAAAAAAAAAAA THIS BOOK IS SO GOOD. I truly have little else to say. This is one I read so often as a child that the passages were familiar to me even now, over a decade later. I remember as a child when rereading, I'd read the first proposal scene with Anne and then immediately rush to the ending chapters where they get together for catharsis haha--if I didn't, I had to skip the first proposal chapter because ANNE HOW COULD YOUUUU. I love Phil Gordon so much, and I love Jonas even though he's barely onscreen, and I love Mrs. Lynde ominously fretting over whether Anne is going to marry, and I love Ms. Lavender frankly saying to Anne that she and Gilbert were made for each other. I also love the book's tendency to build up romantic moments and expectations and then deliberately pop them haha. LM Montgomery really showcases her ability to understand human's quirks and love them for it--while also laughing at them for it. I'm going to do a full post on this (and on LMM's genius for pairing contrasting personalities in a non-tropey way), but this is a good example of what I mean--because who of us hasn't been like ":(" and then enjoyed being like ":(".

Oh, Anne! The only other thing I have to say is that it says a lot that I started this a few days ago, and I'm already three books in! The quality holds up even as an adult (as if I expected any differently). LMM dedicated Anne of the Island to me, and to you, and to all other girlies who love her work, and I very much feel her love in the pages.

[pureanonofficial]

LES MIS LETTERS IN ADAPTATION - A Rose in Misery, LM 3.8.4 (Les Miserables 1925)

A very young girl was standing in the half-open door. The dormer window of the garret, through which the light fell, was precisely opposite the door, and illuminated the figure with a wan light. She was a frail, emaciated, slender creature; there was nothing but a chemise and a petticoat upon that chilled and shivering nakedness. Her girdle was a string, her head ribbon a string, her pointed shoulders emerged from her chemise, a blond and lymphatic pallor, earth-colored collar-bones, red hands, a half-open and degraded mouth, missing teeth, dull, bold, base eyes; she had the form of a young girl who has missed her youth, and the look of a corrupt old woman; fifty years mingled with fifteen; one of those beings which are both feeble and horrible, and which cause those to shudder whom they do not cause to weep. The most heart-breaking thing of all was, that this young girl had not come into the world to be homely. In her early childhood she must even have been pretty. The grace of her age was still struggling against the hideous, premature decrepitude of debauchery and poverty. The remains of beauty were dying away in that face of sixteen, like the pale sunlight which is extinguished under hideous clouds at dawn on a winter’s day.

[writeyoukpop]

​🇸​​🇴​​🇷​​🇷​​🇾,​ ​🇮​ ​🇱​​🇴​​🇻​​🇪​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ • ​​🇧​​🇦​​🇳​​🇬​​🇨​​🇭​​🇦​​🇳​ ​🇽​ ​🇫​​🇪​​🇱​​🇮​​🇽​

(​🇸​​🇹​​🇷​​🇦​​🇾​ ​🇰​​🇮​​🇩​​🇸​)

TW: Fluff and Male x male.

"Get your ass here Felix, I do not want to repeat myself!" Bangchan yelled at Felix, who was happily playing in the rain with no worries at all. Chan could hear the echo of his own voice bouncing through the walls of the empty dorms. He sat the mugs of hot chocolate aside as he moved on to prepare dinner for the other members.

Felix did not even bother answering back since he did not hear the older one call for him in the loud splashing. Bangchan waited for a while before calling for him again. Did Felix hear him though? No. When Bangchan finally had had enough, he dropped the knife he was using to cut cucumbers and dashed outside, careful not to wet himself.

Opening the door to the front door, Chan could swear his heart melted at the sight in front of him, forgetting that he was there to scold the younger to get back inside so that he would not catch a cold. He softly smiled, watching the younger waddle in the rain and giggling. The drops of rain trickled down his face as he jumped on the puddles like a little puppy.

When Felix finally figured he had company, Chan's eyes darkened, mad that the younger was being way too disobedient, however, when Felix waved his hand that was barely visible from the older one's hoodie, Chan chuckled. He waved back and then called him in, shouting his lungs out as he did so. 

The freckled boy quickly skipped his way to the older and smiled cheekily at him. "Why are you here Channie? I thought you were making dinner." Felix looked so tiny that Chan could no longer resist squishing his cheeks instead of being mad at him. The younger quickly stood on his tiptoes and kissed Chan's nose. "I had been calling you from inside, mate." Chan laughed, figuring that the rain was too loud for someone to be heard even from a meter away.

Felix headed inside towards Chan and then he got pushed upstairs and into his room. "Dry up and then come in my room, baby boy. I got some things planned for us." Heading to his bathroom, Felix got his towel and then turned around to steal another one of his boyfriend's hoodies from his room. While Felix did so, Chan whipped out his phone and texted Minho, asking him to get dinner.

BC: Yo Min-hoe, get dinner.

LM: I thought you were making it🙄

BC: Not anymore, bitches.

LM: Tf, what happened?

BC: Felix happened.

LM: RIP his ass.

BC: 🤦‍♀️

Quietly, Felix walked through the hallway making sure that his Hyung was distracted. When he was sure the older was not looking, he made his way past the empty rooms of his hyungs and finally reached Chan's. Giggling, he opened the door to his room and made himself comfortable as he got to his wardrobe. He quickly picked up a red hoodie and rushed out of the room back into his own.

Little did he know, the older saw him and shook his head while chuckling. Felix got his clothes and hopped inside his bathroom. When his feet collided with the cold ground, he slightly shivered as he let the water run. After playing in the rain, a long shower sounded alluring and enveloping to Felix however, Chan was waiting for him and he did not want to disappoint him.

He sighed when the warm droplets of water came in contact with his cold skin. Soon, he was out of the shower, and with the final wipe of the towel, he walked into his room and picked up the stolen hoodie. As soon as the soft material touched his skin, he sighed. He put it over his head and pulled it down to cover his body.

Skzoooo GC

HJ: Rip Felix!

SC: It was nice knowing you buddy👋

KS: Go easy Chan Hyung!

YJ: You will get through this Hyung!

HH: #JusticeforYongboks😔✊

LF: WTF!!

BC: Same, mate, same.

KW: Bangfuckingchan, don't you dare hurt our innocent angel!

HJ: Innocent my ass!

LM: Nothing's innocent about your ass, it has had enough of me😌

HJ: Shut up or you are getting none of it tonight😇

KS: Damn.

HH: Lol, bye.

After he was fully dressed, he quickly walked to the older's room and knocked before entering.  "Felix, you do know that you do not need to knock, how many times have I told you that, huh?" Looking up from the random magazine he had found in the living room, Bangchan watched Felix enter his room. "I know Channie, I-I just don't want to invade your privacy."

The younger's freckles soon disappeared because of the pink that took over his cheeks. He hoped that Chan would not figure out what he meant exactly. When Chan chuckled, he looked away. "Doesn't my baby look cute with my hoodie on?" 

Felix blushed even harder knowing what Chan had implied, he quickly hid his face in his palms pretending to disappear. "I am sorry. It will not happen again Hyung." Chan laughed at the younger's actions and pulled him onto the bed. Felix made himself comfortable between the older's legs while Chan pulled a blanket over them.

Chan then reached out to the side table and grabbed the two mugs of hot chocolate, handing one to Felix.  Felix giggled softly and then took a sip out of it while Chan passed him the marshmallows. Soon, Felix was chewing on the marshmallows after wrestling Chan for the whole packet. When Chan had had enough of his pouts and frowns, he finally gave in and handed him the packet of happiness and proceeded to choose a movie for the both of them.

About 30 minutes in, Felix fell asleep on the olders chest. Chan stayed awake for longer, watching Felix as he fell asleep on his chest however, the warmth from the younger's embrace made him fall asleep too. Both the boys slept soundly in the room, the only sounds being their snores and the movie. Soon enough, their house was no longer quiet, the rest of the members came in, all looking for the two boys they didn't know were sleeping.

Jisung made his way to Chan's room, thinking that they had done the devil's tango however, when he opened the door, he found them sleeping peacefully in each other's arms. Jisung started to wake Felix up, slowly shaking him so he would not freak out.

When Felix woke up, he rubbed his eyes, and his hands formed into a tiny fist, ready to fight the person who disturbed his precious sleep. Jisung hurriedly informed him about the food and left the room. Felix mumbled some things to him and then yawned before spacing out for a while. 

When Minho called Felix from downstairs, he started functioning again and then woke the older one up, kissing his forehead multiple times. Chan's eyes fluttered open and the first thing he saw was Felix on top of him. He took the chance to peck his lips, but Felix had other plans. He pulled Chan out of the bed and Chan tripped on one of the shoes chilling on the floor and fell. Felix chuckled before helping him up and they both headed downstairs together

[juicypicturesm]

Infernal Encounter: The Bloodied Demon with Broken Horns by Juicy Sexy Photo Via Flickr: Post on website: Checkout Blog Post Witness the embodiment of terror in this bone-chilling photograph. A man, his face marred by a bloodied nose and lips, appears as if he has emerged straight from the depths of darkness. With menacing black horns fractured atop his head, he exudes an eerie aura that sends shivers down your spine. Gripping bones in his hand, he stands adorned with a cross on his back, a stark symbol of the battle between good and evil. But it's his eyes that truly captivate the viewer—filled with blood-red intensity, they penetrate your soul, leaving an indelible mark of fear. Brace yourself for an encounter with this demonic vampire, frozen in a single haunting moment. Special Shouts To Store : - Store Name : REKT / LM : REKT - Store Product Used : REKT_Abyss Reaper Cape FP Compatible with Legacy, Belleza & Kario Bodies Store used : - Store Name : DAPPA / LM: DAPPA - Store Product Used :Fear Face Tattoo. - Store: ^^Swallow^^ / LM: ^^Swallow^^ - Products : Gauged S for lel Evo X Ears - Store : -Belleza- / LM: -Belleza- - Product: JAKE Mesh body - Store : PUNCH / LM: PUNCH - Product : Face Set / Marsellus / CLASSIC - Store Name : RZ / LM : RZ - Store Product Used : RZ. Deadly Nose/Mouth Bleed - Store Name : [MR] / LM : [MR] - Store Product Used : [MR] ODIN HAIRBASE for Lel Evo X - Store Name : Badwolf / LM : Badwolf - Store Product Used : Sten Bracelets,Badwolf - Murdured by Love - Chain - Store Name : KUZ / LM : Badwolf - Store Product Used : Broken Horns

[lunthens]

i dont wanna step outside :-(