#the deepest of depraved spirits

[hriobzagelthewanderer]

(sins of the sea) 🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️ (lmao you don't have to do them individually, the Crew as a whole is fine)

It is not hard to pity them, those fools who have been trapped and tricked by the likes of Gorgos - or the many other names the vile thing has become known by over the many millennia it has existed, just as your predecessors have for at least as far back. That might surprise them... you do not judge them as readily as they seem ready to judge themselves, but rather you are more 'disappointed' than 'angry', at least as far as the Seven Sins are themselves. Hatred... that is more in line with what their 'Master' deserves, but not them per se.

Each of the Seven is in many ways self-made as what they are, but you perhaps are objective - or perhaps simply amoral - enough to look past the clear and obvious wrongs and see the potential beneath... the true kindness and goodwill they still have that could have left such a mark, if only they had not fallen into their respective pitfalls... or into His cold, clammy clutches.

'The Master' as he currently calls himself is another beast altogether - hard to place despite proudly(?) wearing the moniker of 'Sea Demon' in many times and tongues... you know from much experience, however, that he is no more a true 'demon' than you are 'simply' Fae - ironically enough, the Devil's in the Details to the point that even if a simple human is enough to harm him, truly ending him outright is, while possible, extremely unpalatable given what else would get dragged down to the depths of oblivion with him...

In spite of the clear hatred between you for all the most valid reasons, you have always had an odd mutual respect despite that; for all your respective power and history, it is hard to deny the true cunning and vicious skill in each other, enough to make calling him a 'Rival' as much as an 'Enemy' a fair admission, and him towards you in turn.

...That said, you can admire someone's talents and still hate their guts - that much has always been true, and never been in question. The true question is how to 'fight' the Master effectively... you have several options, but even so your current methods seem to be gaining traction... for now... though another little 'intervention' may be in order given recent events...

After all, Pettiness is not solely the domain of 'The Master', any more than Deal-Making is... And if nothing else, there are few things you enjoy inflicting upon your enemies more than Irony...

"...even now, even weakened and literally half-blinded by his own hubris... even now I still feel the ache of loss, watching Atlantis sink into the ocean, knowing I at least saved their souls but still bearing painful witness of each life being snuffed out as the waters claimed them... And the less said of Pompeii, the better. I know my time has passed, and my successor is likely not the one to end that cancerous blight of bloated corpses... but is it wrong to hope he bears witness to that vile creature's demise, all the same?"

"...Alas, it appears that there are so-called 'Demons' beyond my ilk that can rival us all the same... yet what claims has he to our kin? Naught but a shambling orifice of lies and stolen souls, Mockery of the highest order! May my power aid in the deposition of such filth, for even now, my bile churns at the notion of its victory."

[paymechildsupport]

ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ!Ryomen Sukuna x M!ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ!Reader //“𝗠𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲..?”

Request, @zxuii

--- "HI HIII first off, i love your writing style, i actually adore it lol. Second I want to request Teacher!Sukuna x Male!reader that was also a sorcerer from the heian era, a powerful one who gets jealous quite often of the attention Sukuna gets since back in the Heian era the only ones who where close enough to Sukuna was reader and Uraume (Unless Uraume didn't exist in this AU or smth happened) so a lot of fights between them break through since Sukuna isn't good with communication either. You can decide if you want this too be Angst in general or paired with something else i don't mind!! :))"

((I love this <3))

-!! M!Reader (he / him)

-!! Wee bit of angst (he's just a saucy boy) + goofy kinda smut (dunno what kind of style it's called lol)

-!! stuff ain't proofread 🥶

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

･・❥・---------------------------------------------------------------･・❥・

Sukuna remembers you vividly from the past; from that time 1000 years ago. How could he forget? Such a flamboyant character, – power exuded with every step, the earth seeming to shake with every fall of your foot. A wandering swordsman: a rather powerful sorcerer who curiously didn’t belong to any one clan. You’d spend your days traversing the earth, sleeping in the empty shrines near villages, taking commissions and odd jobs from just about everyone– human or not. 

Sukuna found it odd how you didn’t align yourself with the standard belief of sorcerers: you were benevolent to cursed spirits like him, you didn’t have the sudden impulse to exorcize, to destroy. Perhaps it was your lack of loyalty to a clan, or the fact that curses could offer prices just as good– if not better, than humans. Either way, it was quite interesting when you crossed paths for the first time; him, the terrifying, all powerful King of Curses, – four arms and two grotesque faces, towering over you, a humble traveler, – and you just stood there, – smiling, at him, – the rumored monster of Ryomen Sukuna. 

He was absolutely astounded, – had this guy not an ounce of fear? The singlest shred of self-preservation? You should be screaming– running, – begging at his feet for mercy, – not making small talk 

“Nice weather, huh?”

“Excuse me? It’s pouring” 

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed 😋” 

He could sense a staggering amount of cursed energy from you, much more than the average sorcerer– let alone human. 

“Nice jugs btw” 

“???” 

Bud was flabbergasted – he could only watch you walk away with a big grin on your face. Later that evening he had to bring it up to Uruame, who was cooking up the latest harvest of human bones: 

“He said you had a nice chest.” 

“Huh, usually one would think to say that to a woman–” 

“Perhaps the sorcerer thought you were a woman”

“What.” 

Ever since he’s had an affinity for you, a fascination… an obsession. He needed to know everything about you, – your goal, your motives, your desires, your deepest and darkest of fears, – the most depraved of thoughts of this strange sorcerer who had the gaul to compliment his chest like he was some kind of street whore. 

He ran into you the next day at the same village, just as you were about to leave. You acted so nonchalant, like he was just another acquaintance, it was truly fascinating and… dare Sukuna say, endearing. He initially went there to kill you for your audacity from yesterday, yet he ended up only shit-talking the village folk wit you, – the old swordsmith who swore there were devils living in his chimney, - the old woman by the creek who was rumored to drown passerbys in the water next to her tiny abode, - the sleezy thug of a priest who thought it was funny to scam you for cleaning his shrine free of charge (whom Sukuna ended up gutting shortly afterwards). The curse was left to, yet again, return back to Uruame with new rantings of you

(just let them cook in peace 😭)

The next day, a band of those pesky Zenin showed up, – and Sukuna thought the opps were on him again. Turns out, not only were you not apart of any specific clan, but you were also quite unpopular with a majority of sorcerer society. After finding out, Sukuna couldn’t help but rush to your aid, determined to cleave the gang of sorcerers in half for trying to harm such an interesting specimen of his. Imagine his utmost surprise to find them not only beat upon his arrival, but diced up and dead on the forest floor, too. 

He was beyond impressed: a seeming clanless nobody such as yourself had chopped down about a dozen of one of the most powerful sorcerers of the time. You saw him staring from afar, waving and flashing that stupidly charming smile of yours. Sukuna couldn’t help but invite you back with him, the dozen dead bodies in tow 

Uruame cooked up a mighty fine dinner that night, one the three of you enjoyed together (yum, human flesh). From that day on you were part of the gang: you, Sukuna, and Uruame. Most days you would be off for up to months at a time, simply doing your own thing, going town to town. Whenever you’d run into your good pal as he was burning down the latest village you’d make sure to have a nice catch up over a warm meal (cooked by Uruame)

You and Uruame got along, – they liked the fact that you could often cook together, Sukuna– being useless as shit in the kitchen – was barred from helping lest he incinerate everything 

But alas, you were mortal, fickle; temporary, – and no sooner did you come into his existence were you cruelly ripped from him, – finally effectively jumped and killed. 

Sukuna almost couldn’t believe it: you never lost- you weren’t supposed to lose, but you did. You fought valiantly, taking an impressive number down with you. In the skirmish, Uruame disappeared, Sukuna was reduced almost to dust,-- miraculously he survived, albeit incredibly weak. They sealed a majority of his power away in his severed fingers. 

Now, weakened immeasurably and down a pair of arms, – momentarily without his chef and darling sorcerer, Sukuna had a change in heart

No longer did he want to be the bad guy, he wanted to be good, to help others, – to help the future of jujutsu sorcery (nah, that’s some bullshit, he just wanted to continue being fed, and he could only be if he became a teacher in sorcery, lol) 

—----

Flash forward to modern day… 

—---

Seeing you once again, reborn, was a complete whiplash for Sukuna. 

You recognized him immediately, obviously, – he was your man after all <3 (even if he denied it) 

Poor baby had to physically restrain himself when he saw you back to kicking ass as a modern day jujutsu sorcerer, having not changed an ounce since he last remembered you

You miss his four arms, – almost more than Sukuna did. It disappointed Sukuna to see you disappointed with his lack of arm power. Still, he only needed two arms to absolutely destroy you--

After the incident with Yuji Itadori accidentally consuming one of his fingers (which made Sukuna livid– blud has been sweating and grinding to get those fingers back, and to find out some random goofy ahh kid decided to munch on one? And they wanna give him MORE??) – Sukuna has been absorbed more than ever into his work. 

You adore his students, – especially Megumi, Nobara and Yuji – (much to Sukuna’s dismay) and oftentimes will stop by his lessons just to bug him in front of them 

You were still the same insufferable charmer as before, shamelessly batting your eyes and making crude comments to catch him off guard: 

“Hey cutie ;) “ 

“Hell do you want” he sneers, “wish to be my example for today’s lesson?” 

“Nah, just passing by, – those pants make your ass look fat by the way” 

“What.”

“Toodles !!” 

It infuriated him, much to your delight 

It was different now, back then it was just you and him, Uruame bearing the only witness to your shenanigans. But when you say those things in front of those brats, – the same brats who were taught to fear and despise his kind, who were suppose to be intimidated by him, – it makes his job of maintaining the tough, snide “King of Curses” just that much harder 

Yuji, with all the time he spent with Sukuna as his main mentor, would ask about you frequently: what you were like 1,000 years ago. Whether it was the nostalgia or purely the fact it was you, – talking about it always softened Sukuna’s grueling and harsh belittling. Poor Yuji could only catch a break when Sukuna started saying “Back in my day..”

“Sukuna-sensei?”

“What, brat?” Sukuna paused, casting an unimpressed glare over his shoulder 

Yuji propped his head onto a fist, leaning on the desk in front of him. The empty classroom was dimming with the setting sun, the vibrant colors that always made Sukuna wanna barf invaded through the windows from the sunset, painting the empty classroom a colorful ombre, 

“You said that odd man who likes to hang around you was around 1,000 years ago, right?” 

Sukuna’s eyebrows scrunch in annoyance, “Yes, and?” 

“What was he like? Does he act the same as all those years ago? How’d he get reborn? What was your relationship like?” The curse wanted to punt the kid across the room with all his silly questions. Instead, – knowing you’d dislike it if he hurt Yuji, – he opted to take a deep breath, air hissing through his teeth, before answering, 

“Mm, you brats are so invasive, – the world doesn’t revolve around you selfish vermin.” sighing, “but fine, I’ll entertain whatever silly fantasy you have about me in your head; he was a sorcerer, a pretty damn strong one, too”

“But you didn’t kill him-” Yuji interjects, confused 

“No, I didn’t” 

“Why, were you two good friends.?”

He growled at the quantity of the questions, causing Yuji to scoot back in his seat slightly, 

“No– well, sort of. I’d assume you could say that.” 

“No-? Really? Kugisaki thinks you two are dating” 

Sukuna’s jaw almost drops to the floor, 

“What.” 

“Yeah, – Fushiguro says you two were together back then too, with the way you look at each other”

With the way he-? 

“Was he your like… private prostitute or something?” 

Sukuna has never heard such fuckery before:

“No. – I’d suggest you’d stop wherever you think you’re going with this, brat.” 

“Did you bang though?” 

That threw him for a loop, and Sukuna couldn’t help but wince at the term. “Banging” was a poor choice of words, – such a word couldn’t possibly do what you two did justice. 

No, you didn’t “bang”

Sukuna couldn’t help but be drawn in by you, – your attitude, your carefree-ness, your power, he wanted it all for himself, – which he sometimes did 

Those endless nights of pleasure where’d he just lose himself in you, - your affectionate caresses, your sweet nothings whispered into his ear that cast shivers all throughout. Sukuna was used to hearing praise showered upon his name, – his devotees throwing themselves at his feet to worship the ground he walked on. But he didn’t care for their praise, – not like he did yours. Your kind words were treasured, craved. If only you had been a woman: he would’ve made you a concubine, – no, – his wife. 

—---

His ego is fragile, witnessing you tearing apart his terrifying image horrifies him. 

Unfortunately for Sukuna, you couldn’t stop dotting on your pretty princess :3 It all came to a boiling point when you saw one of his colleagues start to cuddle up just the littlest bit too close: and he just let them. Seeing Mei Mei acting so clingy with the King made something in the pit of your stomach drop. Your envy boiled, sour and ripening into an ugly weed. It was obvious she held no actual affections (because one, – Mei Mei only lives for cold, hard cash, – which Sukuna didn’t really have on him, which was odd— and two, he was way too old for her tastes)

You just couldn’t help yourself, – he was wearing such a tight shirt, it hid nothing. 

“Yo, nice tits”

He was done. You were done sullying his name with your filthy words, – you were done humiliating him. And he made sure you knew that too

He had pulled you into his empty classroom, all the students and staff long gone. Sukuna towered over you, cold glare sending a delicious shivering cascading through your body, 

“Enough.” 

“Eh..?” you wince, your voice sounded all wrong, too high pitch and breathy, “enough of what?” 

Your damn smile again. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your humiliation is not appreciated.” 

You scoff, “humiliation?” 

He glares, “silence, brat” he firmly grabs ahold of your chin, forcing it upwards, making you look him directly in those creepy, maroon eyes. 

One moment Sukuna has his emotions underwraps: he’s focused, – locked in, – he’s not going to let something as fickle as human ‘love’ hinder his plans. The more assertive the better, he would not be walked on – but he also didn’t want to accidentally lash out and do something he ends up regretting 

The next thing he knows, Sukuna starts spiraling, 

“You insist on following me, stalking me for over 1,000 years, – it’s pathetic” wait- what? No, he didn’t mean it like that

“--you mortal brats are as measly as ever, it’s no wonder you died to your own kind” pause, no, no, no, no, no….-- what was he doing? He didn’t actually mean that- 

“--killed by fellow sorcerers: pathetic. Dead and reborn, you’re still the desperate mutt crawling back to me..” Stop. Make it stop. Someone stop him. Stop/

“Uruame should be back here instead, seeing you is the biggest disappointment in this millennium” 

Oh.. 

“... fine then.” Your voice is quiet, small. Don’t look at him like that.

Sukuna’s eyes widened, but he couldn't seem to say anything, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Instant dread pools into his stomach

“I see how it is. If that’s truly how you feel…” 

“Wait no–” Sukuna starts, immediately tensing up as you lower your eyes onto his. He swallows, hard. He hated the dejected, – the defeated look on your face. You looked so sad, and Sukuna couldn’t bear to see you sad , – something that terrified him to no end, — you terrify him to no end. You elicit the most exotic of feelings within him, reviving his ancient, rotten, worm eaten heart to a thunderous boom. Sukuna is reminded of the times back then: you laying in the field, hand twining in his hair, lightly scraping his scalp, – him sighing in content like an old dog. There would be the half eaten corpse of some unfortunate sorcerer off to the side, and you’d occasionally hand feed one or two limbs to the second mouth on his stomach, tongue out and awaiting like a dog’s for a treat  —Such tender moments, the power you have over him makes him feel weak in the knees. Every instinct within him told Sukuna to run, - to protect himself from this threat that was your adoration. The thrill gnawed at him from the inside, – but oh, the ecstasy from it felt so good. 

But he was Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses – he couldn’t face having such an open weakness – taking on a lover would feel like he had gutted himself, taking away a fundamental aspect of his existence as a character. You just have to keep stoking the flames. , 

… “nevermind, just go. I could care less” 

You do, closing the classroom door behind you, and Sukuna can’t help but feel as if half of his soul leaves with you. This happened every time: he’d push you away, only to immediately regret it, craving deeply for your validation. 

Shit, seems like he really did have a lot to learn when it came to such fickle human emotions.

He’d make it up to you, – he always did. 

—-------

You were the only one to bring him to his knees, the only deity the King would bring himself to worship , – and what a divine thing you were. 

Those nights of infinite passion, – you underneath him, (and occasionally him under you–)  he’d take you with the utmost care. Ryomen Sukuna has never been “gentle” with something, – let alone with another living individual, – but with you his touches were always so attentive, so skillful and purposeful. He never wanted to hear you scream in anything but pure pleasure. 

On the most precious of those nights, you’d coax the sweetest of noises from his lips. You could’ve sworn he has whimpered, despite his firm denial. 

You were his God. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

A/N: thank you for the request <3

[eldritch-spouse]

I definitely wasn't binging through Krulu's tag like a horny depraved soul with no life (which i am) when i found this:

Pinnie I need to know how Krulu responds/reacts to Admin's existential crisis and crippling anxiety telling them that they're useless to him now that he has no need to hide and he can just dispose of them if he wants to.

[Fem reader.]

TW: Slight angst; Religious mindsets.

It's wonderful seeing your lord in such high spirits.

You never made note of it before, mostly to avoid being insulting, but it bothered you that Krulu felt unsafe all the time, resigned himself to the darkness of his sacred floor, didn't look beyond the walls of The Clergy's Eye or set foot onto his own garden.

It was disheartening.

He's a god! He's your god! He should face the world with nothing but pride and elegance, his might is to be witnessed and revered by all- Hiding is unbecoming of his perfect nature.

You suppose you have to thank Miara for all of this. For the safety and confidence Krulu now exudes, for the push she gave him to finally finally impregnate you- For your beautiful baby boys who have now grown up to take Earth's main annexes by storm! Life is good.

Life is wonderful.

But it's so, so scary...

Ever since your higher stopped using you as a vessel -There's no need for such anymore, after all- A depressing distance has been cast between you two. Something stifling.

You're so very happy for him, for Adelo and Adrul who can now communicate with their second father openly, see him in the flesh so much more often than they once did, for the two of you even -Because you do like witnessing Krulu's glory- But... Things just aren't the same.

You no longer feel Krulu in the back of your mind, caressing your thoughts and murmuring to you. His presence on your body is so diminished you feel naked. Unsafe. Out of sorts. You feel useless as his servant. This isn't right. It's something you're ashamed to admit, but you wish he'd return to your form.

What's wrong with you? To be wishing misery upon your lord...

You're his chosen, you're the mother of the rulers of Eden and Perdition, you're loved dearly by your lord and your angel- So... So why is it that you feel small? Like an ant? Without Krulu... You're just a human. Just a girl.

Tears prick at your eyes.

It's stupid, it's so stupid. You should be happy. This is a day of celebration! Your sons have come to The Clergy to partake in celebration with their parents and the core team after their impressive feats. And instead of spending quality time with the people closest to you...

You're sobbing on a faraway bench.

Pathetic.

You don't even hear the footfalls approaching steadily.

" Chosen. "

To say you sprung up like a startled feline is to put it flatteringly lightly. Your lord stares at you from a great height, gaze ever hardened, though you've been his servant long enough to spot the creases of worry in the corners of his eyes.

" M- My lord, excuse me- I'll be joining the festivities in no time. " You stammer, wiping the tear trails on your face and hoping your makeup isn't smudged to absolute shit. But it probably is.

Krulu makes a chuff, then takes a seat beside your figure, not looking directly at you. One set of arms rests on their hips, another steeples its fingers, the remaining one adjusts some of his jewelry.

" Speak. What troubles you? "

To the point. You've come to love that about him.

" Nothing serious, my worship. " You sigh. " You know how fragile the human mind is, I'm just being silly. "

The siadar's tail rattles across the floor.

" Our minds may no longer be interwoven, but make no mistake, I know when you dare lie to me. " He warns, eyes narrowed. " Your pain is still my pain, however. And to hurt me is not wise. "

You curl further into yourself on the bench, sniffling. " My deepest apologies- "

" I will not ask twice. What ails you? "

Slowly, you crane your neck back, meeting only the charred side of Krulu's face. With perhaps the most shaky and futile of inhales, your lips let loose.

" I'm scared. "

The siadar straightens slightly.

" My lord, I would never doubt your words- But I doubt myself. We aren't as close as we once were, and that's amazing! That's good! But... I feel so hollow without you in my body. What duty do I have now? I know it's stupid of me -I know I'm foolish- But ever since you've ceased to use me as a vessel, I've been so... Miserable. "

The shame coating your cheeks burns brighter than a thousand dawns, so you opt to bore holes into the stone of the garden's pathway.

There's a deep rumble from beside you, and soon, your small frame is lifted, deposited in the crevice where your lord's long legs cross, facing forward to the garden's expanse just as he does.

" You are going through withdrawal. "

Krulu begins, giving all your thoughts pause.

" Have been, for quite some time. "

Four hands touch your body, two loop around your neck in a familiar hold that has you sighing in comfort. The other pair rubs your sides up and down.

" I never did think it had reached this state, but then, you have a most insufferable habit of hiding your distress from me. "

" I... I don't want to disappoint. "

The implication is loud, even without being verbalized. A pause passes.

" Pray tell, what bred the idea into your mind that the mother of my heirs is expendable? " He challenges, met with silence for a few moments.

" Was it something I imparted onto you? "

And, when you think about it deeper, there was never a moment where Krulu made you feel as if you were nothing but a body. Or that you would someday outlive your use. Your sentiments are strange and you can't place their source aptly.

" Never! I don't recall a single thing you've said or done to me that could cause this- I think I'm just... Having some type of episode? " What a wonderful thing to say, you snort inwardly to yourself. Yes, you're going mental.

" Episode, hm? " Krulu chuckles above you. " Close enough. You got there on your own, songbird. "

" I- Lord Master, I beg your pardon? " Did he actually confirm you're going insane?

The siadar shudders at the title bestowed upon him, a squeeze of powerful claws reminding you not to rile him up now. It slipped.

" Just as when I took hold of your form your organism experienced many changes, you are now going through several more as well. " He explains simply. " My departure is intense, I would be alerted if you did not react to it. "

You blink, staring into his blazing orange hues. " ... But it has been years, lordship. "

Krulu's grin turns slightly mocking. " Indeed it has. "

You can only blink vapidly again, prompting him to laugh loudly and pet you almost condescendingly.

" How many years did you live as my vessel, lesser? "

Oh. Oh.

No fucking wonder you've been feeling this way for so long. Oh boy, this is going to take a long while... Who knew a hormonal imbalance could last this long, and be this devastating. Maybe to a doctor, it would be extremely common knowledge, but you often forget said information, because it hardly ever holds relevance these days.

You feel even dumber now. Dumb as a door. May the ground grow a hole and consume you immediately.

The berating inner-monologue about to kickstart in your mind is halted entirely by the sensation of Krulu's thin lips against the top of your head as the massive entity curls to shield you from the world at large.

" You are hereby ordered to seek me as soon as these flares of inadequacy show themselves, understood? " Even if his words hold supreme authority, you feel the insurmountable care behind them.

" My chosen is my adored and my adored is the light of this decrepit world. You hold more value than the universe could ever hope to achieve to me, yet you do not even realize it. " He whispers.

And you cry.

You sob like a fucking baby.

You wail into your lord's arms, full of relief, of love, passion and reverence and complete fanaticism- Enough euphoria to blind you for seconds of total bliss. It's almost like an orgasm, in a peculiar way.

He holds you throughout the entire catharsis, silent, stable like a stone wall. Only when your quiet sniffling has petered out does he speak again.

" Come to us, Adrul did say he has many tales of his time in Wrath. His mother should listen. "

You stand with Krulu's help, a smile as bright as the sun on your face.

Everything is okay.

You'll get through this.

For him.

Always for him.

Everything for him.

[leftistfeminista]

Petition to stop a Pinochet ‘death flight’ helicopter that became UK gamepark prop

They are making a milsim game out of a horrific method of murder of leftists, and perhaps even more sadistic, the torture of leftist women. Below is a testimony of what a survivor endured-

The brutal contrast between the fate of my male comrades and my own is a jagged pill to swallow. Each time I'm forced to endure the crude spectacle of the helicopter rides, the parading of my nearly nude body above the cityscape for prying eyes to consume, a piece of my dignity withers away.

Pinochet's tactics, as cruel as they are ingenious, serve not only to humiliate but also to disorient. By using the lives of female Comunista as a source of pleasure, of spectacle, they effectively weaponize our gender. We are stripped of our ideological armor, reduced to the level of objects to be used and displayed.

And the worst part? The guilt gnawing away at my insides, that I live while my brothers are tossed away like unwanted debris. The survivors' guilt is a constant companion, a bitter reminder of the high price of my existence. I'm watching helplessly as my male friends are tossed off the side and killed. As they all get thrown away one by one I expect that I'm next, but instead they end up hanging me from the helicopter half-naked until I'm sick, humiliating and torturing me even more. Dropped into the sea, I felt the breath snatched from my lungs, replaced by the icy grip of the abyss. The promise of death's sweet release would dance before my eyes, only to be cruelly ripped away as the bungee cord yanked me back into the bitter air. Each drop was a betrayal, each rise a violation of the natural order of life and death.

On the surface, being spared from death might seem like a gift, but in reality, it's a torment of its own kind. We're left to grapple with the guilt, the shame, and the knowledge that our bodies have been used as tools in this twisted war. It's a living death, a constant battle against the rising tide of despair and self-loathing. Grief for my lost comrades swelled in my heart, a tempest trapped within the confines of my chest. They had been torn from life, while I, in all my femininity, was denied the purity of that sacrifice. I was made to live, not as a martyr, but a trophy, a testament to our worst enemies' lust and depravity.

How do I feel? Betrayed, used, humiliated. Yet, paradoxically, there's a perverse form of empowerment in it too. In being reduced to nothing more than our bodies, we've been given a weapon, albeit a cruel one. Our captors may rule our bodies, but our minds remain our own. They may have claimed our dignity, but they cannot touch our spirit.

Every catcall from the crowd below, every lustful gaze from our guards, is a burning coal added to the fire of my resistance. It may be a different form of warfare, one fought not with guns and ideologies, but with body and will, yet it is a battle nonetheless. And I refuse to be defeated.

The sharp dichotomy between the freedom of the helicopter rides and the confinement of the junta’s pleasure is a mockery of our struggle. And yet, in this mockery, I find a renewed sense of purpose. I may be a spectacle, a plaything, but I am also a symbol. I'm a stark reminder of Pinochet's brutality, a living testament to his regime's degradation.

Each ride is a torture, each leering gaze a violation. But each also strengthens my resolve to resist, to endure, and to fight back. For every female Comunista paraded over the city in nothing but a thong, there's a spirit that refuses to be broken, a heart that continues to beat in defiance.

As I hang above the city, my body on display for all to see, I draw upon the deepest reservoirs of my strength. I endure the gawking crowds, the lecherous guards, and the demeaning spectacle because I must. Because my spirit demands it. Because I am a woman. A woman of passion, a woman of resistance.

Above all, I am a Comunista. And no matter what they do to my body, they cannot touch my soul. For my soul is mine, and it flies free, even as my body is bound and paraded. It soars above the city, above the pain, and above the pleasure, a beacon of defiance against the Like a puppet on a string, I'm flung over the city, a grotesque spectacle of Pinochet's ruthless regime. The biting wind cuts through my scant attire, each gust an icy dagger sinking into my exposed skin. My body becomes an unwilling canvas, painted with the cruel strokes of shame and humiliation under the leering eyes of the spectators below.

The hum of the helicopter rotors blends with the cacophony of my heartbeat, drumming a rhythm of dread and despair. My pulse is a wild thing, thumping against the cage of my ribs, desperate to escape the horror of my situation. The cityscape below blurs into a dizzying tableau of my impending doom, its towering structures mocking my helpless predicament.

I feel the mocking stares of the spectators piercing through the whirl of wind and noise. Their laughter is a bitter wind that chills my spirit even as the terror burns like a wildfire in my veins. It's a perverse carnival, my dangling body the star attraction, and my fear, the intoxicating scent that feeds their twisted entertainment.

Yet, beneath the layers of terror and humiliation, a defiant ember flickers in my soul. Every icy gust of wind, every mocking laughter only serves to fan its flames. They may have bound my body, stripped me of my dignity, but they cannot quench my spirit. It burns brighter with each passing moment, an unyielding beacon amidst the chilling winds of my plight.

The sight of the city sprawling beneath me is a grotesque mirror of my torment. Like me, it hangs in a precarious balance between its past and its present, between the ideals it once held dear and the reality it now endures. I feel a perverse kinship with it, a shared understanding of humiliation and defiance. It's a bond forged in the crucible of our shared suffering, unbreakable as the spirit that continues to fuel our resistance.

The stark contrast of my fate to that of my fallen comrades doesn't escape me. The male comrades were dropped to their death, their defiance silenced in the blink of an eye. But we, the female Comunista, we're forced to endure a far more insidious fate. We're not just silenced, we're used, paraded, and reduced to mere objects of pleasure and mockery.

Yet, each terrifying moment suspended above the city, each jeer that reaches my ears above the roar of the wind and rotors, renews my commitment to the cause we'd all pledged our lives to. They may have tethered me to a bungee cord, but they cannot tether my spirit. It's a wild thing, untamed by fear, undaunted by humiliation.

My fear, raw and tangible as the biting wind against my skin, becomes a fuel for my resolve. Each pulse of terror that courses through me transforms into a battle cry, an affirmation of my indomitable will. I may be Pinochet's spectacle, his object of amusement, but I am, first and foremost, a Comunista. And no amount of fear, no degree of humiliation can extinguish the flame of resistance burning in my soul.

As the city flies past beneath me, and the wind bites into my flesh, I close my eyes. I embrace the fear, the shame, the guilt. I allow them to wash over me, to seep into my bones. For it's in these moments of abject terror and humiliation, that I find my greatest strength. I am more than the object of their derision. I am a symbol of defiance, of undying spirit. I am a Comunista. And I will not be broken. The dread was choking, consuming me from within as I watched my comrades - men I'd once proudly stood shoulder to shoulder with in defiance of Pinochet's regime - plummet one by one from the helicopter. Each fall was an echo of a silenced voice, a splash of horror in the ocean of my mounting terror.

Then, they unceremoniously shoved me towards the edge. My heartbeat pounded a furious drum roll in my ears, the clamor of my impending doom. I braced myself, ready to meet the end with the steel resolve of a Comunista. Yet, as I plummeted, the expected icy hand of death did not come. Instead, the bungee cord tethered around my ankles yanked me back, launching me on a dreadful pendulum swing between life and death.

Suddenly, I was an unwilling marionette in Pinochet's macabre puppet show, left dangling and twirling under the disapproving gaze of the sky and the leering eyes of the city. My humiliation was painted on the vast canvas of the heavens, a spectacle for all to gawk at. The wind, once my ally in the freedom chants on the streets, now turned a bitter foe, nipping and tearing at my exposed skin with icy teeth.

My world became a whirlwind of chaos and confusion, turning end over end in a dizzying dance of fear and degradation. The city, once a symbol of our struggle, now distorted and morphed into a mocking audience, drinking in the sight of my plight. The wind carried their jeers and laughs, each one a piercing arrow, sinking into the soft underbelly of my dignity.

The sky turned a theater, the city a captive audience, and I the reluctant star, yet with every jeer, every gawk, every gust of wind against my skin, my resolve only hardened. For each moment of humiliation was a testament to my spirit, a testament to my fight. The sight of my male comrades' end was a chilling reminder of the stakes. I was alive, albeit in a nightmare, and that meant I still had a chance to fight.

[meli-r]

The men who think that wealth comes from material resources and has no intellectual root or meaning, are the men who think—for the same reason—that sex is a physical capacity which functions independently of one's mind, choice or code of values. They think that your body creates a desire and makes a choice for you—just about in some such way as if iron ore transformed itself into railroad rails of its own volition. Love is blind, they say; sex is impervious to reason and mocks the power of all philosophers. But, in fact, a man's sexual choice is the result and the sum of his fundamental convictions. Tell me what a man finds sexually attractive and I will tell you his entire philosophy of life. Show me the woman he sleeps with and I will tell you his valuation of himself. No matter what corruption he's taught about the virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which he cannot perform for any motive but his own enjoyment—just try to think of performing it in a spirit of selfless charity!—an act which is not possible in self-abasement, only in self-exaltation, only in the confidence of being desired and being worthy of desire. It is an act that forces him to stand naked in spirit, as well as in body, and to accept his real ego as., his standard of value. He will always be attracted to the woman who reflects his deepest vision of himself, the woman whose surrender permits him to experience—or to fake—a sense of self-esteem. The man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer—because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of an achievement, not the possession of a brainless slut. He does not seek to gain his value, he seeks to express it. There is no conflict between the standards of his mind and the desires of his body. But the man who is convinced of his own worthlessness will be drawn to a woman he despises—because she will reflect his own secret self, she will release him from that objective reality in which he is a fraud, she will give him a momentary illusion of his own value and a momentary escape from the moral code that damns him. Observe the ugly mess which most men make of their sex lives—and observe the mess of contradictions which they hold as their moral philosophy. One proceeds from the other. Love is our response to our highest values—and can be nothing else. Let a man corrupt his values and his view of existence, let him profess that love is not self-enjoyment but self-denial, that virtue consists, not of pride, but of pity or pain or weakness or sacrifice, that the noblest love is born, not of admiration, but of charity, not in response to values, but in response to flaws—and he will have cut himself in two. His body will not obey him, it will not respond, it will make him impotent toward the woman he professes to love and draw him to the lowest type of whore he can find. His body will always follow the ultimate logic of his deepest convictions; if he believes that flaws are values, he has damned existence as evil and only the evil will attract him. He has damned himself and he will feel that depravity is all he is worthy of enjoying. He has equated virtue with pain and he will feel that vice is the only realm of pleasure. Then he will scream that his body has vicious desires of its own which his mind cannot conquer, that sex is sin, that true love is a pure emotion of the spirit. And then he will wonder why love brings him nothing but boredom, and sex—nothing but shame.

Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

[gealach-in-a-misty-world]

Faron Vincent can channel the power of the gods. Five years ago, she used her divine magic to liberate her island from its enemies, the dragon-riding Langley Empire. But now, at seventeen, Faron is all powered up with no wars to fight. She’s a legend to her people and a nuisance to her neighbors. When she’s forced to attend an international peace summit, Faron expects that she will perform tricks like a trained pet and then go home. She doesn’t expect her older sister, Elara, forming an unprecedented bond with an enemy dragon—or the gods claiming the only way to break that bond is to kill her sister. As Faron’s desperation to find another solution takes her down a dark path, and Elara discovers the shocking secrets at the heart of the Langley Empire, both must make difficult choices that will shape each other’s lives, as well as the fate of their world.

"She'd been a liar longer than she'd been a saint."

Kamilah Cole's So Let Them Burn is a YA fantasy with dragons, set in a queenormative world. The two POVs follow two sisters, five years after a war against a colonizing empire wherein the younger sister was chosen by the gods of their small nation to protect themselves against the invasion. The choice to sidestep the big war and begin with five years later, as reconstruction is well under way and the young nation opens up peace talks, is a strong one, that translates into the author having to infodump frequently, but it's done deftly enough and the exposition isn't too clunky.

The crown jewel of the book is certainly the relationship between the two sisters. Their love for each other is what motivates them and pulls the plot in certain directions; it's what sets things in motion. Twists and turns abound as the two of them are separated and drawn to harsh choices that might change the world, but the execution isn't strong and the choices, the twists, the revelations, feel unearned. We don't have time to get attached, to feel the sense of betrayal and the outrage, because the characters go from one situation to the other without letting the tale settle properly. The dragon school isn't explored, save from off-hand remarks and off-screen development that means one thing that was plainly meant to be an emotional beat towards the end falls flat.

The romantic relationships feel unearned, too, at least Faron's sudden attachment to a boy she's mistrusted for most of the book. Elara's slow burn with an enemy is handled better, with the two girls growing closer as circumstances force proximity and an alliance forming out of necessity.

The magic system was intriguing, as were the glimpses of the supernatural and the way they were linked to Jewish folklore; we have demons and angels and the name of God. There are horror elements, in a sense, but the deepest horror is human depravity. The worldbuilding is interesting, with gods and dragons and a magic system that allows one to call upon the spirits of ancestors, and a darker magic being explored. The revelations about the past make for an intriguing lore, and the abrupt ending keeps the reader on their toes.

So Let Them Burn is a sweet YA debut, perfect for young readers.

✨ 3.5 stars

[You can find more of my reviews about queer speculative fiction on my blog MISTY WORLD]

[wedreamedlove]

Did any of them say the i love you to Mc?

Charlie! he's said it multiple times and in many ways, from straight up "remember that i love you" to things like "i love you for ten thousands of years" and also things like "my beloved fiancée".

Sariel has not explicitly said "i love you" but he's said "i like you" and also pointed out that these words aren't hard to say, it's carrying out their meaning that's hard. he's also given the most romantic of spirit clan vows, which engraves a mark on each other's souls so you can find each other in the next life: "The heavens are boundless, the universe endless. The sun rises immortal, the night sea never rests... Death and life rotates, in the end we will meet again."

Evan also hasn't said "i love you" but this man can barely relate to the word lmao. he's said it through poems though like the famous "you are like nobody since i love you". he's also given one of the most romantic marriage vows ever: "I, Evan, take [MC] as my wife, my lifelong partner, and my only lover. You are my desire that never withers. You are my deepest depravity and obsession. I promise to love you forever, regardless if it’s a blessing or curse or whether we be in heaven or hell. I will take you out of despair and pain with both hands. With my heart, I will brew the mellow wine of your life. If the relentless night comes, I will burn every inch of me to light up a path of life for you."

i don't think Osborn and Jesse have said it, but i know the heroine has thought about their love in her mind. for example, she thought of the phrase "love is restrained" during Osborn's anniversary date and how he wanted to save the "wedding kiss" for that actual day. Jesse has told other people that the heroine is the girl he loves. the heroine has exchanged "i like you"s with Osborn and Jesse though!

[doomed-prophetess]

Let's adress the elephant in the room: the incest. And by that I do not only mean Medraut's complicated feelings towards Lleu, but his relationship to his mother and how it could be potentially affecting his relationship with his brother.

You see, Medraut is King Arthur's bastard son born of an incestuous relationship with his half-sister, the queen of Orkney. Morgause seduced Artos as a young man in an attempt to babytrap him and make her queen. When this plan failed she tried to raise their son as a weapon against Arthur. But that's not all. The story heavily implies that Medraut himself is also a survivor of sexual abuse and incest at her hands. There is a short story “no human hands to touch” by Elizabeth Wein which goes into detail about Morgause’s grooming and abuse of Medraut. When Medraut kissed Lleu and threatened to have his way with his body, he was trying to scare him. It was a power play. Medraut was trying to be as cruel as everyone else believed him to be, which meant becoming like his mother who is the most terrifying person he has ever known. In that moment Medraut was considering using the same depraved methods his mother had used on him. Medraut doesn't want Lleu's inheritance, not really, "It is your self, your soul that I envy. More than anything I want your birthrigh without shame, your clean lineage." Medraut doesn't want the throne as much as he wants the things associated with Lleu's position as crown prince (most of all his easy claim to their father's love). A bastard can never undo his own birth but he can taint Lleu's self and break his spirit.

What ultimately triggered Medraut's betrayal of Lleu was his accident reveal of Medraut's true parentage in front of Morgause's other children and the profession of his deepest contempt for Medraut when Lleu becomes witness of Morgause's assault on Medraut.

Therefore it is easy to imagine that Medraut would do all the things he had been fantasizing about in secret as a form of revenge once he has Lleu completely at his mercy. "You sneer at me for being a bastard born from incest, what will you do when you become guilty of incest as well? Can I drag you down to hell with me?" might be what went through his mind. You might be surprised to hear this, but I don't think Medraut would actually sink so low as to rape his own brother. He would never forgive himself and would either kill himself afterwards or let himself be killed. Actually, let me rephrase that: he would never violate Lleu in the same way he has been violated as long as he is in his right mind and outside of his mother's influence. The problem is that Medraut was turning increasingly unstable towards the end of the book. Everything came crashing down on him: the illness, the reunion with his abuser, his father's distrust, the horrible accident in the copper mines resulting in the loss of many lives, Lleu's denouncement of him in front of their cousins, the humilation of having the wooden sword held at his throat...

The original plan was that Medraut kidnaps Lleu, intending to turn him over to Morgause, who in turn, plans to trade Lleu's life for the throne. Provided Morgause keeps her word (which I doubt), Lleu would be released once Medraut has been crowned king. I'm convinced that Medraut would make a great king had he ascended the throne under normal circumstances and Lleu raising an army against him would be detrimental to the common folk.

However, since Medraut is trying to usurp the throne through treachery with the help of his mother and turning his back on anyone who has ever had a positive influence on him, I assume that left on his own, he will easily fall back into old habits (sex with Morgause) and Morgause will use this to extend her influence over Medraut, stoking his worst desires and fears to establish herself as his only ally and bind herself to him. An outcome that makes my stomach turn but that I find disturbingly realistic is Morgause marrying Medraut in order to become queen. Exerting control through sexual abuse is her M.O., she did it with his father and now she's doing it with his sons too. Her original plan was to seduce Arthur and make him crown her his queen, the only thing that has changed is that she moved her interest from her brother to his son. I don't doubt it that if Medraut were to become too defiant for her liking, she would dispose of him as soon as she's with child.

Morgause and Medraut would co-rule Camelot and depending on how broken Medraut is, Morgause would be sole ruler while Medraut would merely be king in name/her right hand. It would be an endless battle between him and her. She would behave like a tyrant and Medraut would spend most of his time doing damage control. Although he would finally have his childhood dream fulfilled, he would be deeply unhappy. If Lleu and his army blew down the gates of Camelot, he would welcome his death with open arms. Medraut has taught Lleu anything except how to kill. It would be very poetic if the first human life Lleu takes is that of his brother.

I view Medraut as a very tragedy-coded character who sometimes escapes into constructed narratives and stories in order to make sense of the things that are happening to him. For example in "no human hands to touch" Medraut references Oedipus and Jocasta when Morgause forces him to have sex with her after she had drugged him.

Even if Lleu spared Medraut's life because his experiences made him more understanding of Medraut's circumstances, Medraut would punish himself brutally. I can imagine vividly how he would gouge out his eyes with the needle of Morgauses brooch and then travel through the kingdom as a healer to atone for his crimes. Lleu would become King, beloved by the commoners that had given him shelter when he was in hiding and those who fought side by side with him against Morgause, and he would be a good King to them but the character growth cost him his family and innocence. He'll never be the Lord of Spring again.

But I'm looking too far in the future and presupposing that both Artos and Morgause won't be playing dirty. I don't think Artos would be giving in so easily without attempting to retrieve Lleu through other means (hostage exchange, secret rescue mission, setting up a trap for Medraut). Just as I believe that Morgause won't see this coming and punish Lleu accordingly. Let's not forget that she was very open about her desire to rape Lleu.

I suspect that part of the reason why Medraut didn't turn Lleu over to Morgause was Agravain's reminder about what Morgause was planning to do with Lleu once she has him in her clutches. It would be fear but also possessiveness. “My heart surged with jealousy and fear: and all you did was to look at him”.

In an AU where Medraut wins Morgause would be the only true winner as Medraut suffers. He would be forced to be her puppet king and sex slave. Trapped in a position where he would have to witness his mother inflict the same torture on his brother that he went through as a child and unable to do anything against it. He can't turn his eyes away, she would make him complicit in the abuse too.

Medraut would feel a cross of three different emotions, primarily guilt, which he would drown out by his anger and jealousy of the attention Morgause is giving Lleu, that he would redirect towards his brother.

How much Medraut's soul blackens depends greatly on how sensibly Artos negotiates with him after the kidnapping of Lleu. It's incredibly delusional of him to think taking Artos' heir hostage would make him publically admit his mistakes and mean it. If anything it would cause Artos to abandon Medraut entirely and lure him into a trap where soldiers in hiding are waiting to kill him. The betrayal would break Medraut's heart. His father's ultimate rejection of him would permanently destroy his relationship with Lleu. You can bet after Artos' death Medraut would be projecting all his daddy issues on Lleu.

At first Lleu would fight him ferociously, as he has fought him on anything. Soon these periods of rebellions would be punctuated by episodes of depression and suicidal ideation. But after a certain amount of time filled with struggle and punishments he would submit, or at least pretend to submit and bid his time until he saw a chance for escape.

The first months of imprisonment by Morgause would be pure torture for Lleu. Solitary confinement, sexual violence, attempted mindbreak, medical torture are on the daily schedule. Even if Morgause were to keep her word and release Lleu once she's finished with him, any man surviving this ordeal would only be a hallow shell of his former self. I don't think Morgause would be stupid enough to let the trueborn heir run around making alliances with powerful noble houses and kings beyond the sea while her bastard son is working hard to gain legitimacy and get the local lords on his side. Pretending to keep up her end of the deal, she would use a slow working poison on Lleu that builds up in his body until it kills him a few months after his release or the torture she has subjected him to would have taken such a toll on his body and mind that he would never be able to lead an army. BUT! That kind of scenario is too bleak for me that's why I'm moving to another! 😃

Remember how I mentioned earlier how Morgause views her son as an extension of herself and her nephew as an extension of her brother and how Medraut hurting Lleu would be as if she were to do the same things to Artos? I could imagine that Morgause would find Medraut's hypocricy endlessly entertaining. Her son condemns the incest between her and Artos (and himself) yet he lusts after his younger brother and is choking on his own jealousy just like she did. She would force Medraut to rape Lleu in order to destroy their bond, to rip his eyes open to the truth that they were both birds of a feather and make Lleu lose faith in his brother's goodness.

Medraut realizes if he continues to fuck Lleu he could spare him alot of pain. He is caught between a rock and a hard place. It's either him or Morgause. He doesn't really have a choice. If he calls Lleu to his bedchambers at night then he has ensured that Lleu is not alone and vulnerable to Morgause and Morgause would tolerate this kind of protection to a certain extend, because to her it's a sign of beautiful corruption that has taken root in Medraut's heart.

(and when Medraut and Lleu grow even closer she gets jealous of course.)

Maybe they have fucked up threesomes together and Lleu and Medraut bond over their shared trauma. If Morgause thought it would destroy their bond then she would be only partially correct. Something between them broke but the broken pieces were forced together incorrectly again and it changed them fundamentally. They are now closer than before. Observing how Morgause treats her son in private would give Lleu the chance to reflect on his past actions towards Medraut and emphatize with his situation. Although he would never excuse his crimes, he would feel very sorry that these things happened to Medraut and beseech him to be better than his mother.

Morgause wouldn't be succeeding in killing Lleu's spark of fighting spirit completely and it's mainly Medraut's merit for holding his protective hand over Lleu when he can. I don't think that Lleu would break in the same way as Medraut broke under Morgause's torture given that contrary to Lleu Medraut was given to Morgause as a child and lacked familial love, but he would develop some kind of stockholm syndrome/captive-captive bonding with Medraut where he yearns for his comfort but also has moments of explosive anger and emotional outbursts that manifest itself in physical violence pointed at Medraut. In an unguarded moment Lleu would stab Medraut with a fork and Medraut would respond the same way he always had with mockery, threats, another violation of his bounderies, drugs or withdrawl of help. They would be deadly towards each other if left alone for too long. It's Morgause's dangerous presence and Medraut's distate for her cruel machinations that make him take on the role of the protector again.

The following quote summarized their relationship very well:

The brothers enter a vicious cycle where Morgause hurts Lleu and Medraut rushed to his help and heals him, but he enjoys his role as the sadistic caretaker too much. Justifying doing things he shouldn't be doing, causing Lleu to either resign him to his fate or lash out in his hopelessness and suffer the consequences: Morgause's punishment and Medraut's inaction.

Some day when Morgause has tested something particulary nasty on Lleu, I can see Medraut offering himself up to Morgause from time to time to lessen Lleu's pain just like back then when he was becoming Morgause's test subject in the stead of the children of the servants that she'd been poisoning in pursuit of her research.

Lleu turning suicidal a few weeks after imprisonment would be another turning point for Medraut. I don't know if it would be enough for Medraut to help Lleu escape since he's aware the foundation of his power is Lleu's submission. He burned all bridges and cannot go back to his family. And if his father is dead or he is dead to him what is stopping Medraut from acting on his urges? Another reason why he might hesitate to let go of Lleu is that he is lonely and Lleu keeps him sane. Medraut letting Lleu go would mean accepting that they would see each other again at the battlefield and would have to kill each other. It'd be their last dance.

A way that could lead to this particular ending could be Medraut making occasionally bets and competitions with Lleu in exchange for something he wants, which could provide him with crucial information and guide him to his escape. Lleu's freedom vs total obedience would be their final bet with the highest stakes and perhaps Medraut would lose this one on purpose.

[outpost51]

Manuscript Search Tag

tagged over here by @artdecosupernova-writing tysm!!

my words: honor, leave, leak, combine, heat, mirror

tagging: @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland @spaceouttatime @void-botanist @teamdilf

your words: absent, lift, solid, ash, shot

honor

from Stellar Parallax, Chapter 4: Unfortunate Things

“What, accept the risk of death every time we do something stupid and go to the fucking spirits with grace and dignity and honor, and accept it when our loved ones get offed fighting someone else’s war?” Nihlus scoffed. “Some do. Cid’s dad did. Venari… he already had issues with Spectres, and losing a rookie and his niece to one bullet didn’t help.”

leave

from The Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself, Interlude I: Rolling in the Deep

And in the icy crush of the deepest ocean – besides the trenches, but no one spoke of the trenchfolk – lurked the abyssals, blind, carnivorous, and bloodthirsty when hungry. They were always hungry. The midnight merfolk did their best to keep them in their hellish abyss, but sometimes a few slipped by, leaving unspeakable carnage in their wake.

leak

from Between a Rock and a Hard Place, Chapter 20: Dissent/Descent

My room was exactly as I’d left it, save for the rumpled covers — had Dad been sleeping in there? Guilt settled heavy and sour in my gut. Curling up beneath my faded comforter did nothing to banish it as I found myself surrounded by whisky and cigarette smoke and echoes of laughter I’d never hear again. I was just going to rest my eyes, but when I opened them again, the only light in the room was the sliver that leaked beneath the door from the hallway.

combine

from Blinding Neon, Shades of Grey, Chapter 8: Match in the Powder Barrel

Kaleb’s threshold for bad is much higher – he’s been on the force longer, seen more violence than the three of them combined, knows the depths of human depravity and cruelty. Frankie braces herself for the worst as she slogs down the flooded hallway. The smell of blood hits her before she even reaches the door.

heat

from Between a Rock and a Hard Place, Chapter 19: This is Everything I Never Wanted

Silence. The damp summer heat closed in around me as the air around us fell still again. Watching. Waiting for the same answers I’d begged for year after year.

mirror

from Stellar Parallax, Chapter 2: Red Fish, Blue Fish

“You survived because you’re lazy?” Ashley seethed. Jane heard her grunt quietly as Alenko most likely mirrored John’s hold. Fuck them. “You ditch work,” Jane spat, “then you cower back here and do nothing while the geth butcher everyone else! Do you know how many good men and women I lost in this attack? How many of them I had to put down again myself?”

[hriobzagelthewanderer]

The Master has decided to argue about his souls, and possibly body wash at @sins-of-the-sea​ -

“...well, forgive me if I had to get your attention somehow. If you want to get a child to pay attention, you play with their toys, its simple enough when you put it that way...”

The Fae didn’t raise his voice or break eye contact, sounding both unimpressed and unapologetic as he shrugged and sat down opposite the Sea Demon - no ‘chair’ necessary, simply floating on nothing as he calmly rolled his neck and sighed.

“...but fighting over your possessions wasn’t my goal, and collecting souls isn’t my style anyways, so let’s not waste our time with posturing, shall we? This can, and will, take far longer otherwise, and we both know we can do this until the end of time and back... I come with not a deal, not an ultimatum, but a warning and a suggestion, one Aspect to another...”

His voice lowered to a whisper, but it was laced with power beyond simple mountainous presence or intimidation - it warbled with the weight of prophecy, of things not known to many but immutable and lethal to more than just the listeners if ignored.

“...there is a Harvest coming, Deep One: The architect of which can, and will, consume all if left unopposed - all souls, living, dead, claimed or not will be forfeit to their will, in the name of destroying this world to make it ‘anew’ in their image... and it will be a world NEITHER of us will desire, nor have any place in. No freedom or pain, no choice or feeling or thought or purpose or Life or Death or ANYTHING... more, I cannot yet say, for much is still yet in motion, but know this - I do not agree with you, or your methods, but I still respect you for what you are nonetheless, THEY will not, for all their honeyed words. When the time comes, you will know, and if not I will be waiting... better to play the game to the end than let some fool throw the whole board for their own amusement, no?”

A pause washes over the space between them, before the reverent warning is punctuated with an irreverent chirp of amusement and an over-exaggeration of the ‘P’ at the end of his next word. “...welp-, that’s it. I’ll get out of your... wait, you don’t actually have hair, do you? Ah, doesn’t matter, message is done, I’ll get out of your ‘whatever’ anyways. I can only take so much salt before I need to rinse it off with something stronger...”

With that, the Spirit ‘stood’ again, giving an oddly-out-of-place irreverent salute to their counterpart as they turned to leave... before stopping and tilting their hooded head back at the other cloaked being, the faintest of smirks upon their lips. “...Unless... there was anything else? We’re both busy... ‘people’ for the loosest meaning of the word, after all, and I’d hate to deny you the chance to tell me anything you deemed important, or ask questions you deemed necessary... even you deserve that much courtesy...”

[yhwhrulz]

Charles Spurgeon's "Morning & Evening" Devotional for September 15

Morning

“Believest thou this?”

John 11:20-37

John 11:20

Martha had earnestly expected the Lord’s coming, and her active spirit led her to meet him. In this she is an example to us: our faith and hope and prayer, should go forth to meet the Lord in his ways of providence and grace. We may not judge Mary, but we may do well to remember that it is a temptation to contemplative Christians to sit too still in hours of sorrow. Martha was cumbered with much serving, and there have been Marys who have been cumbered with much fretting.

John 11:21 , John 11:22

Her complaint of his absence was very gentle, and her faith in his power to restore her brother was far too pleasing to Jesus for him to be displeased by what she said. How apt are we all to think that if the Lord were with us we should not be in trouble, whereas it is in affliction that he is most graciously manifest.

John 11:25 , John 11:26

It would be well after hearing any scriptural truth, to put this question to ourselves: “Believest thou this?” Especially should we be well established in the truth that Jesus is the source, substance, and firstfruits of the resurrection.

John 11:27 , John 11:28

Jesus had probably said more than is here recorded, and had asked for Mary particularly. In the gospel he asks after each one of us.

John 11:32

Her posture indicated the deepest reverence, yet her complaint was couched in the same words as that of her sister. We all find it hard to understand why the Lord permits heavy trials to overtake us.

John 11:35

This little verse is full of great teaching. It shows both the humanity and the sympathy of Jesus, and is for ever the mourner’s choicest gem of consolation.

John 11:36

A word of astonishment which may as truly be used in reference to his love to each of his servants. His love to us is wonderful.

John 11:37

Of course he could, but they had not the wit to argue that he who could preserve life could also restore it. Often men stand on the verge of faith, and yet at last die in unbelief.

“See how he loved!” exclaimed the Jews,

As tender tears from Jesus fell;

My grateful heart the thought pursues,

And on the theme delights to dwell.

“See how he loved,” who travelled on,

And taught the doctrine from the skies!

Who bade disease and pain begone,

And called the sleeping dead to rise.

“See how he loved,” who never shrank

From toil or danger, pain or death!

Who all the cup of sorrow drank,

And meekly yielded up his breath.

Such love, can we, unmoved, survey?

Oh, may our breasts with ardour glow,

To tread his steps, his laws obey,

And thus our warm affections show!

Evening

“I have the keys of hell and of death.”

John 11:38-57

John 11:38

We hear more about his groaning in this case, than in all his own personal sufferings. He never groaned so much for his own trials as for the troubles of his friends.

John 11:39

All that man can do, man must do: the miracle begins only where natural forces end.

John 11:39

In that hot climate, putrefaction would soon set in. Could not Martha, who believed Jesus to be almighty in power, believe that even out of corruption her brother could be raised? Faith has strange weaknesses, and while leaping one way will limp another.

John 11:44

When Jesus calls dead sinners out of their graves of sin into newness of life they are often bound by habits arising out of their former lives, it is our duty by example and instruction to lead them into the full liberty of the gospel.

John 11:45 , John 11:46

Some people are mean enough for anything. How base these must have been!

John 11:49 , John 11:50

For mere political expediency, he would kill Jesus that the nation might not be destroyed by the Romans: but in this, like Balaam, he said far more than he himself understood, and was the mouthpiece of the Holy Spirit to declare the doctrine of the substitutionary sacrifice, by which atonement is made.

John 11:54-57

What a proof have we here of the madness of depraved nature, when we see men eager to put to death one whose divine power had been so clearly proved by his raising the dead! Such madness is in us all till grace removes it.

Jesus, thou Prince of life!

Thy chosen cannot die;

Like thee, they conquer in the strife,

To reign with thee on high.

It is not death to fling

Aside this sinful dust,

And rise on strong exulting wing,

To live among the just.

Copyright Statement This resource was produced before 1923 and therefore is considered in the "Public Domain".

[mattspinksjoyblog]

Jesus Made Humanity Holy | Thesis #6

One of the biggest transformations in my life personally was when I began to see humans as actually holy. Somehow I had spent decades of my life in Christianity and missed the heart of the Gospel, the heart of Trinity family; Jesus sharing Their holy life with us.

I think in the depths of our core we know that all creation is sacred somehow. That beauty appears at so many times in our lives, when we behold a wonder of nature, when a friend truly gets us, when we see a truly kind act… we recognize holiness, the wonder, the stunning beauty.

At the same time, we also see the horrors that humanity has wreaked across the planet. Scripture does tell us that all have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God. We absolutely have had a problem with evil and every one of us have done evil things at times.

But, what is the deepest truth about us? Are we evil? Can people with such limited perspectives of just a few short years descend into "total depravity?"

Well, personally, I had been indoctrinated to believe that only those who had come to a true saving faith in Jesus were holy. And, because most folks didn’t appear that way to me, I thought most people were evil & selfish. And, it made me very skeptical of everyone! I was very hesitant to trust or connect or even see people as equals to be honest…

Now, don’t get me wrong. I still know that many, many folks are walking around living in selfishness and unhealthy patterns! If we're honest, any of us can fall into those patterns if we aren’t aware of our true identity…

But, that’s just it!!!

I had no idea what Christ had done for me. I had no idea what Christ had done for ALL. I had no idea who He is for me. I didn’t realize our authentic identity!

(And, tbh, I’m still waking up!)

But, I was mistakenly believing that humans were somehow corrupt in our being. I was taught Bible verses like, “The heart is deceitfully wicked above all things,” (Jer. 17:9) or, “the evil I don’t want to do, this I keep on doing.” (Rom. 7:19) But, I had never been taught what Christ had done to purify, cleanse, and actually deliver us all from evil!!

“The love of Christ rules us because we have concluded that One died for all, and therefore all died. From now on, therefore, we regard no one according to the flesh. Even though we once regarded Christ according to the flesh, we regard him thus no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” - 2 Corinthians, chapter 5

Hebrews 10:14 - "For by a single offering He has forever completely cleansed and perfected those who are consecrated and made holy."

Romans 8:9 - "You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit."

Romans 6:6-10 - "We know that our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin. (7) For one who has died has been set free from sin. (8) Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. (9) We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. (10) For the death he died he died to sin, once for all, but the life he lives he lives to God."

Now, to this day, I still realize that people are doing heinous acts all over the world. This breaks my heart, and the heart of our Beloved Trinity family! But, now I see something greater, something deeper going on within them. I can see God in them, giving them a deeper identity.

What Jesus did IS an invisible reality many times. But, He established a cleansing of the cosmos that is authentic. He taught us to pray in the Lord’s prayer, “deliver us from evil.”

And, He answered that prayer!!!!

This mystical reality can be challenging to understand.

Some pretend that nothing evil is still going on. Some say that we were never evil at any point. And, while I absolutely agree that we were originally born from God whole and holy, in original innocence, some go as far as to say that evil never took root in our hearts. The old doctrine of total depravity is, in itself, totally depraved. But, scripture is clear that sin was living within us (Rom. 7:17), and that our hearts were like stone (Ez. 36:26). Paul called himself a chief of sinners. Humanity never became fully evil, but we all had a cancer of wickedness growing in every one of us. And, until we wake up to our true identity, people still do evil things.

Obviously, that’s not the Good News! The Good News IS that what Jesus did, in the fullness of time, gives us a deeper, more authentic reality; one that transcends and applies backwards, forwards, and fills all of time and space! Jesus, in becoming human, restored our most original and authentic definition! (And, this is where it can continue to be challenging to understand, because it’s a deeper mystical reality.) Jesus made every human who has ever lived, ultimately, actually and ontologically HOLY! And, this is the solution to the problem of evil. Jesus!

Jesus descended to the depths of our darkness and healed it all.

T. F. Torrance said it this way:

“That is to say, the Incarnation is to be understood as the coming of God to take upon himself our fallen human nature, our actual human existence laden with sin and guilt, our humanity dressed in mind and soul in its estrangement or alienation from the Creator. This is a doctrine found everywhere in the early Church in the first five centuries, expressed again and again in the terms that the whole man had to be assumed by Christ if the whole man was to be saved, that the unassumed is unhealed, or that what God has not take up in Christ is not saved. The sharp point of those formulations of this truth lay in the fact that it is the alienated mind of man that God had laid hold of in Jesus Christ in order to redeem it and effect reconciliation deep within the rational centre of human being.” (Mediation of Christ, pg. 48-49)

J. B. Torrance said it another way:

“Christ does not heal us by standing over against us, diagnosing our sickness, prescribing medicine for us to take, and then going away, to leave us to get better by obeying his instruction — as an ordinary doctor might. No, he becomes the patient! He assumes that very humanity which is in need of redemption, and by being anointed by the Spirit in our humanity, by a life of perfect obedience, by dying and rising again, for us, our humanity is healed in him.” (“Christ in Our Place” in A Passion for Christ, pg. 359)

John Wesley had much to say about Christ delivering us from evil. Here’s one quote:

“By salvation I mean not barely according to the vulgar notion deliverance from hell or going to heaven but a present deliverance from sin a restoration of the soul to its primitive health its original purity a recovery of the divine nature the renewal of our souls after the image of God in righteousness and true holiness in justice mercy and truth.” (from a Farther Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion, Pt. I)

Bible commentator Adam Clarke speaks of the deliverance that we have in Christ like this:

“This perfection is the restoration of man to the state of holiness from which he fell, by creating him anew in Christ Jesus, and restoring to him that image and likeness of God which he has lost. But if man be not perfectly saved from all sin, sin does triumph, and Satan exults, because they have done a mischief that Christ either cannot or will not remove. To say He cannot, would be shocking blasphemy against the infinite power and dignity of the great Creator; to say He will not, would be equally such against the infinite benevolence and holiness of His nature.” (from A Discourse on Colossians)

There are so many stunning quotes from scripture and ancient church leaders regarding the actual holiness we’ve been given in Christ! I see it everywhere now!

And, this has really changed my life! I’m able to listen for people’s deeper beautiful hearts, beneath whatever they may be saying. I’m able to feel the sacredness of every person. I can treat people much differently now, not as suspect or as dark.

I’m able to feel God inside of me. I can experience Father, Son and Holy Spirit in the actual me. God is inside my thoughts, inside my emotions, inside my desires. My truest desires are not evil. I feel the gift of holiness flowing from my deepest parts now, because Trinity is in there!

I don’t have to wake up every day and try to lay my desires on the altar! I dwell with the Trinity and notice that my deepest will is God’s will too! THIS is a big, big deal. Knowing that my soul is holy… this transforms SO MUCH! It IS the actual freedom that Jesus died for. Jesus took the old. It died with Him. Now we have been made new.

If evil exists anywhere, it’s only a case of mistaken identity.

It’s time that we nail this thesis to the door of the modern church!

Church, Jesus has made humanity actually holy!!!!!

“The unassumed is the unhealed. That which He has not assumed, He has not healed; but that which is united to His Godhead is also saved. If only half Adam fell, then that which Christ assumes and saves may be half also; but if the whole of his nature fell. it must be united to the whole nature of Him that was begotten, and so be saved as a whole. Let them not, then, begrudge us our complete salvation... For Godhead joined to flesh alone is not man, nor to soul alone, nor to both apart from intellect… Keep then the whole man, and mingle Godhead therewith, that you may benefit me in my completeness." - St. Gregory Nazianzus

-Matt Spinks

____________

Believe in this kind of message and ministry? Donate at: thefirehouseprojects.com/donate

Also, please watch the video version of this thesis where Matt shares more:

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #6

In the Hollow the people were very poor. Poor of mind, poor of body and poor of spirit. Living in the depths of depravity had that effect on most thinking life. The soul could not bear the crushing weight of a life condemned to darkness, of being left with no other option. The hours in the darkness only briefly met with the light of the Lantern. A whisper of hope for those unbroken, but a taunt to those beaten down. A reminder of the warmth and cozy comforts their efforts bring as they fuel the engines that bring fire to the forges, water to the distant corners of every floor, and above all else move the lanterns light to bring about the days and nights.

See, the Insani were the labor of the Hollow. A force composed of all the city's filth and vulgarity. The scum that bubbled to the surface when the city got heated. Scooped out by her majesty's royal dogs and tossed into this prison. The darkest depths of humanity's greatest monarchy. Where problems were sent to die so the lavish could live without their imperfections.

To the Insani the Hollow is their home. Had been for the last seven great generations. Just enough time for the folks to forget just how they all wound up in the worst place under the earth. Enough time to accept the terrible lies they were fed, living off the refuse of those above. To find honor in quarrying stone and digging precious minerals from the deepest of bedrocks. All to pay for a single day's worth of warmth or, and not and, a night's meal.

Truth of the matter was no one could remember the days when life was lived outside the Hollow. Not simply within the other wards but above it all. Where nothing but endless sky loomed overhead. Where the sun was not powered by coal or steam but simply drew itself across the sky every day. The memories had washed away with those who found themselves cast out into the depths of darkness.

Nowadays there was only the Hollow and the floors above. Just above the darkness were the markets and houses of all the common folk within the Well. The ones responsible for the day to day convenience of others. The worker bees served their Queens people, but mostly her guard. Above them was the heart of the monarchy. A lush Garden, watched over by those given the privilege of living to aid nobility, and deemed necessary to tend the crops and orchards that fed thousands. Higher still was the Stacks, a collection of forges and shops packed with tools and those with deft little hands made responsible for all the metal work and maintenance the city could need. And as long as you minded the law and kept any opinions of the Queen free from your lips, you would never know the horrors of living in the Hollow. A fact the Queen has kept long buried, but how much longer can she go, before the city's walls burst from the coming generations. Room was hard to come by and the only place allowed to grow was far below the comforts of the lanterns glow.

[thekinkyleopard]

Forbidden Fruit

An Alistar an Indigeux Canon One-Shot

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Impreg, One Night Stand Vibes? Rough Sex,

Public Sex? No Snz

Author’s Notes: So I have been salivating to write Alistar with Indi just because I know he loves some good poon. I’m FEEDING my boy with this one okay. It’s also Sy’s conception so SPOILER but not really since it’s in Indi’s bio hehe. 🤪 Indi belongs to @aller-geez and she made the banner :3 I’ll replace it with a proper cover once Geez can get around to it. She’s got a lot on her plate right now, but I figured I could still post what fics I do write to keep her spirits up, and use the banner as a place holder.

"Let's not play coy here, Indi, I know you want to go home with someone tonight..." He trailed a long blackened finger down her shoulder, with a lustfilled whisper. "And I have been craving a crumb of delicious pussy, so what say? Hm?" Licking his lips with hunger laced behind his crimson orbs. "We could make a deal~" Alistar grinned, intentions clearly scrawled across his face as he continued to follow the curves of her body with his gaze.

Indi sighed, contemplating, her own hunger becoming evident. She just got in with her brother's friends, should she really dip a toe in the pool? He was attractive...and dangerous...and everything she craved. Slamming her drink back, and then the emptied glass down on the counter she smirked. "Okay, bathroom or alley ?"

"Hm, I'd say Alley, I don't necessarily like the smell of piss and shit while I'm fucking," he was sincere when he said this, he genuinely hated public restrooms, they were always disgusting, and he was depraved, but not that depraved.

As Indi and Alistair exited the dimly lit bar, the scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke lingering in the air, the alley loomed ahead, a shadowy emblem of their illicit rendezvous. The city's pulse throbbed with the echoes of its nocturnal inhabitants, and the concrete walls seemed to vibrate with the anticipation of their impending union.

Indi's heart raced as they approached the alley, her body tingling with excitement and trepidation. She had always been drawn to the darker side of life, the intoxicating allure of forbidden desire, but Alistair? An Anti-Christ? With his ruby eyes and lethal charm, was the embodiment of her deepest fantasies, and she could not resist the pull any longer.

As they entered the alley, Alistair's hand found its way to the small of her back, the smell of wet cement and dirt surrounded them as he pulled her in, just inches apart from her trembling lips. "Now say please," he whispered into her mouth his hot breath meeting her own, the roughness of his voice caressing her senses, igniting a fire within her core.

Indigeux hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest as she met his dangerous red gaze glimmering like two pools of blood. "Please," she whispered back, her voice barely audible above the clamor of the city, "Please, Alistair..."

With that, he seized her lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue probing her mouth as his hands roamed over her body. She moaned softly into the other, her body arching against him as he ground himself against her. His desire was palpable, a primal urge that only seemed to heighten her own.

As they broke apart, he spun her around, pushing her front against the wall of the building, gripping her hips in a tight hold as he reached down to free himself. Her breath hitched and he shuddered when he felt the cool night air against his navel as he unbuttoned and unzipped his ripped up jeans.

Alistair pressed himself against Indi, his erection hot and throbbing against her ass. She gasped as he fumbled with the clasp of her own jeans, his fingers skillfully undoing the button and zipper. He slid his hands inside, caressing her bare heat with practiced fingers. Her heart beat faster, the rush of adrenaline making her feel alive and invincible.

"Fuck.. you're already so wet for me arent you?" he whispered against her ear, his breath hot and damp. She could feel the heat radiating from him, and she knew that she was ready to take the plunge. She nodded, her indigo eyes never leaving his hypnotic ruby gaze.

Alistair pulled away, his eyes still burning with desire as he unzipped his jeans fully. He pulled them down just far enough to reveal his aching erection. Indi bit her lip, as she pushed her ass back to gently brush against it, they both let out a desperate grunt. His hands fished back to the woman's pants and began to slowly pull them down enough to expose her bare ass and quivering swell. "You look fucking delicious from this angle, you know that?" He smirked, crouching on his knees he pushed his mouth up against one of her plump ass cheeks, giving it a gentle chomp of his sharpened teeth, licking and making a trail of slick saliva in between where her ass and pussy met.

Indi's nails scratched and clawed against the rough concrete of the building she used for leverage, pathetically pushing herself into Alistar's skilled motions. She needed him, bibically. "Shit..." she cursed under her breath as she felt his tongue slip tenderly in between her folds. "Ahh...hah~" she gasped.

Alistar's tongue was a wicked tormentor, delving deeper and deeper into Indi's core, caressing her most private places with a sensuous urgency that left her breathless. His hands, strong and calloused, gripped her hips, pulling her closer to him, their bodies aching for the next phase of their forbidden encounter.

Indi's moans echoed through the empty alleyway, each one a testament to the pleasure Alistar's touch was evoking in her. He devoted himself to teasing and torturing her, bringing his hand up only to thrust his greedy fingers within her, then pulling back, soley to nibble and lick at her folds.

Her body trembled uncontrollably, the pleasure coursing through her like electricity as she coaxed the desire within her to reach its peak. She was almost completely incapable of holding herself up as his mouth and fingers rocked her center. Yet, just as she thought she couldn't take it anymore, Alistar stopped, she felt immediate disappointment, as he came to a stand. The sound of desperate shuffling was heard before she could feel him prodding at her soaked hole. "I'm going to really fucking enjoy this," he growled reaching upward to grip her by the neck with the center of his palm just before shoveling his cock deep inside her entrance.

"Oooh my goo-," she started to moan deeply but her airway was cut off by the sudden squeeze of his gripped blackened hand. Catching a glimpse of just how much force when she watched the flames on his wrist contort.

"Dont....fuckin say that name...say mine..." he hissed behind a clenched jaw. His words heated and dangerous. She could feel the warmth of his fingers around her neck as his voice echoed in her ears. She was practically a puddle at his feet, but at the same time, she couldn't deny the thrill of danger that coursed through her veins. He very well could kill her, strangle her to death and being who he was, get away with it. She shivered.

"A-Al...Alistair," she stammered out, managing to get out his name despite the tightness in her throat.

The red headed demon smirked in response, releasing his grip on her neck just enough to let her breathe. His eyes reflected the hunger burning within him as he continued to thrust into her, relishing in her submission.

"That's right, beautiful...say it again," he growled, his voice low and taunting. His hips continued to wrack her, the sound of wet sex and desperate pants bounced off the empty alley way walls. Her quim dripping down her legs into her half drawn pants.

"Al-ALISTAR," she cried out, almost sort of a whine in her voice as it echoed through the darkness. He moaned in response, his eyes rolling back as he thrust deeper inside her. His fingers tightened around her throat again, pulling her closer to him, their bodies a blur of lust and desperation.

Indi's eyes widened in shock and pleasure, her body shaking uncontrollably under his touch and with every perfectly placed punch to her pleasured bundle of nerves. She had never felt anything like this before, the combination of depravity and pleasure leaving her mind hazy and her body trembling.

"Please... Im gonna... I can't..." she managed to gasp out, her voice ragged and breathy. Not even particularly conscious of the words she was speaking out loud. Unable to even really get coherent thoughts out with a hand wrapped tightly on her neck anyway.

Alistair's eyes flicked up to meet the back of her head, his expression mirroring the intensity of the moment. "You can," he whispered hoarsely, leaning into her ear, his voice heavy with lust. "Cum for me, pretty girl," With that, he plunged into her again, relentless against her shaking core, her legs wobbled, her eyes rolled back and she couldn't manage to keep herself up right. The only thing holding her up being the demon fucking her.

The red head grunted, biting down on her shoulder as he continued his motions, feeling the heat rise and boil within his own groin as his cock continued to plow her. "I'm almo...there..." he strained around her flesh as his teeth continued to grip her. Indi almost felt like she could black out from the intensity of just how insanely good it felt, but she kept herself present as her hips met his with every beat. After a few strokes, he reached down with another hand to start swirling rough circles against her swollen clit, that was it, that was all she needed, she blew over.

Her release was explosive, her entire body convulsing against his, her back arching and nails digging into the rough brick wall. She let out a guttural cry, her voice ringing out loud and clear through the empty alley. Her legs shook uncontrollably, and she struggled to keep her balance against Alistair's relentless thrusts.

He continued to fuck her, his hands and mouth never leaving her, feeding off her pleasure, absorbing her cries of ecstasy.

Alistair's own release was imminent, and he could feel it building within him, like a storm waiting to break. “I’m right fucking there….”He could hear it, feel it, taste it in the air as it gathered within him, the scent of his own coming orgasm. His hips began to move faster, harder, slamming into her with a force that left her breathless.

The woman's body continued to convulse and clench around his cock and eventually Alistar's vision blackened and his body froze as he spilled his hot seed inside her heat. “Th-…ere it fucking is,” his words slid through clenched teeth.

As his climax overtook him, Alistair's hips jerked forward one final time, burying himself deeper into her core than he thought possible. “Fuck…” he hissed again. Their bodies trembled in unison as they both reached the pinnacle of their ecstasy. He felt her muscles clench around him, milking every last drop from his warring erection.

The air was thick with the scent of their mingled lust and the taste of her desire still lingered on his tongue. He pulled out of her slowly, his breath ragged as he tried to regain control of his body. Indi stumbled back, her knees buckling beneath her as the aftershocks of her orgasm still coursed through her.

Alistair caught her, his hands steadying her as she looked up into his eyes. Her gaze was filled with a mix of shock, embarrassment, and an undeniable allure. Could also just be the high of cumming and the several drinks in her system but she almost, admired him. He smirked, keeping her steady against the wall and once he was sure she wouldnt topple over, began to pull his pants back up his hips.

"That was fucking fun.." Alistar spoke as though he was still catching his breath. Cutting the awkward silence between them.

Indi continued to regulate her own breath before she smirked, rolling her eyes. "It was but, We have to stop..." she responded, confidently and genuinely.

Alistar chuckled darkly, running a hand through his thick, red hair. "Why would we do that, pet?" he asked, his voice dangerously alluring. "We've only just begun," he reached for her arm, at first to comfort her but as she started to walk away, he tightened his hold.

She tried to pull away, but he only became more serious about his grip, keeping her in place. "Let go, please," she stated seriously with a flattened edge to her tone, her voice unwavering.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. "Come ooon don't be like that, I'm going to want seconds....thirds even," the demon narrowed his gaze, letting go of her arm per her request but still staying a mere few inches from her.

"Al, stop, there's drama here dont you see that? This was fun and all but we can't do this again, Draeko and Elex will both be fuckin' furious and I frankly don't want to deal with it," she shoved past him, a pack of cigarettes loosely falling out of the demon's pocket. She picked it up and took one out, pressing it to her lips and handing out her hand for a light. Alistar hummed lightly, handing her the lighter after shoveling it out of his pocket.

"So who said we have to tell either of them? Or anyone?" that same husky, lust filled tone that made her bend in the first place.

Indi snickered, the corner of her mouth twitching as she took a long drag of the cigarette, the smoke curling out of her mouth in a thick plume. She blew it out slowly, her eyes locked onto the demon's as she exhaled.

"Oh, Alistar, you know that's not how it works," she spoke softly, the corner of her mouth twitching up in amusement. "But you're right, there's no need to tell anyone if we don't want to. We can make this little secret our own,"

The red-eyed cretin grinned, a wicked light twinkling in his eyes. "You're right, we can make this our little secret, and maybe more little secrets along the way, hm? Now shall I call us one of those uber things?" Indi rolled her eyes at him, pulling out her own phone and ignoring the argument.

"By the way you said that, no, I'll do it, you can pay me back," The red head nodded feeling victorious, and hopeful to get another chance.

"Fair enough," and the two of them, after fixing themselves up right and making sure they didnt look too obviously like they had just fucked in the alley, waited for their ride out front of the bar. Unbeknownst to the trouble that now lay wake in Indi's womb.

The End…?

Author’s Notes: I love writing Al fucking things. Idc who. He doesn’t care who either. We both just enjoy the journey ya know? LOL Hope you all aren’t too mad it wasn’t Nai or Drae this time. Trust, those are his favorite holes. He just likes a little strange now and again 😜

[eternalshadowsgazette]

Title: Shadows of the Soul: Exploring the Macabre in Cinematic History

Introduction

In the realm of cinema, there exists a genre that delves into the darkest recesses of the human psyche, unearthing our deepest fears and confronting mortality head-on. These are the macabre movies, hauntingly crafted tales that linger in the shadows of our minds long after the credits roll. In this article, we embark on a melancholic journey through some of the most macabre films in history, exploring the artistry in their morbidity and the echoes they leave within our souls.

I. Nosferatu (1922) - A Dance with the Undead

The silent masterpiece "Nosferatu" is a symphony of shadows, weaving a tale of vampiric terror that transcends time. Its expressionistic cinematography and the haunting portrayal of Count Orlok evoke a sense of dread that lingers like a phantom ache.

II. Eraserhead (1977) - A Descent into Nightmarish Realities

David Lynch's "Eraserhead" is a surreal odyssey into a world of industrial decay and existential dread. The grotesque imagery and dissonant soundscape create an atmosphere of visceral discomfort, plumbing the depths of human anxiety.

III. Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom (1975) - The Abyss of Human Depravity

Pier Paolo Pasolini's "Salò" stands as a harrowing exploration of power, sadism, and the degradation of the human spirit. Set against the backdrop of fascist Italy, it forces viewers to confront the darkest corners of humanity's capacity for cruelty.

IV. Begotten (1990) - Birth and Death in a Realm of Desolation

E. Elias Merhige's "Begotten" is a visceral tone poem, a visual maelstrom depicting creation and destruction in an uncanny, desolate landscape. Its grainy, monochromatic aesthetic immerses viewers in a nightmarish dreamscape.

V. Martyrs (2008) - The Pursuit of Transcendence through Suffering

Pascal Laugier's "Martyrs" is an unflinching exploration of the human spirit's resilience in the face of unimaginable torment. It delves into the existential questions of pain, sacrifice, and the possibility of transcendence.

VI. Antichrist (2009) - Nature's Malevolence and the Unraveling Mind

Lars von Trier's "Antichrist" is a psychological descent into madness, exploring the intertwining of grief, nature's malevolence, and the fragility of the human psyche. Its haunting imagery and relentless emotional intensity leave an indelible mark.

Conclusion: Shadows as a Mirror

These macabre films, though unsettling, serve as a mirror to our deepest fears and existential ponderings. They remind us of the fragile nature of our existence, prompting reflection on the human condition. In their melancholic beauty, they challenge us to confront the shadows within ourselves, ultimately offering a catharsis that transcends the screen. For in the macabre, we find a reflection of our own mortality, a reminder to cherish the light that flickers even in the darkest of hours.

[royalpoems]

Hope

Fantasy separates reality in existence- illusion to the perfect dream boy, liberating princess castle, Or a magical wand to summon good- luck. Reality rotates around a realm of- Fear overwhelms false evidence appearing to reality comply a perception of an inability to contend through circumstances. Worthwhile fear chased me I yielded to confront my weakness. I allowed my weakness to confront me- chasing me through diver’s places where I intensely felt over shadowed with dark powers. Induced to fail in in-completement, chasing my dreams became inefficient. Challenges introduced me to stand before God’s throne as he transcends to indulge a purpose for my life. Confidence drove potential through my spirit precisely to an indefinite journey. Down the darkest tunnels To the deepest valleys, Through destruction hope awaits. We obtain to reside in the world through the struggle, but Forget every struggle endures to perceive a perception according To the person God mold and shape us to be. Frightened moments of terror we assure ourselves to wear a glorious smile, Which fade into wiles. As mankind forbid to honor Tribute to Christ in cause of difficulties momentarily depraves our way of living. We must remember to remind ourselves life remain void and form- Deceiving to be straightforward, but rather crooked in low places to higher levels. Imperfect, but rather striving to become. God’s beacon gathers to guide us through momentous circumstances to deep valleys. God bestow mankind bountiful gifts to perform his miraculous duties. As devotees we choose to follow- while others seek the wrong Source to depend after in spite of their idolatry. Not just walked, But served. Your treasure become the King you serve. Once I refused to understand life- a feeling of inferior demolished my faith. It’s not where you in life, but rather who you are determine The potential amount our hearts can fight through the journey as we stand to reach our dream, We often procrastinate how simple success can be, but perpetual to reach. It’s not how long it takes but which road you tread upon to get there Travelling the right direction to reach success. Emerging from where we are, Running pass terrors filled with darkness divide our confidence- In progress we never degenerate through the battle, instead resemble an image called “failure”. Until mankind realize Jesus footsteps which guide us to a meaningful lifestyle which originated from a purposeless life. Abundant of opportunities awaken vibrant joy, Promoting a sense of morality to live for, Assured by his peace will offer a change. Sadness turns to joy, Defeat into victory, Hate changes to love, Despair to hope, Fear disappears- But through the change God delivers us from trouble. When situations worsen, we spend moments in silent humble Prayers to invigorate our spirits from fear, God map out our victory before we can ever match Up a visual prospect we loose hope. A drop of faith control our motives to sustain toward success, I proclaim forward the right decisions to win the journey. Rewards are bestowed to those who diligently seek understanding. We have profound views things happen for a reason for the good and worse. Toward the end of the road we notice an open sight to appreciate hardship. Let him be the master of our lives- For we never realize the strength he drive through us. Let us be the leader for other’s lives- So we may guide them according to a righteous path God led us, To devote our purpose for him, To establish a divine will for others. Courage direct my path Pledging to our New Generation…………… (Action: Place your right hand over your heart pledging.) Loyalty negotiate toward our fellowship Which we shall balance differences Creating a new endeavor To hope The eyes of many blind shall be opened That you make awake from a dark path.