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unstable-samurai · 2 days

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Until You're Mine (Jealous Girlfriend) - smut

Momo x Male Reader

Word Count: 4k

Tags: toxic relationship, jealous girlfriend, non-linear story, possessive girlfriend, first sex, penetration, boobjob, facial

She was awake when he arrived. She heard the door latch turn twice as it was unlocked. There were always two turns, fast and firm. Y/N saw her lying on the couch, watching another animated movie. It was the kind of movie she looked for when she really needed to be distracted, her escape valve or something, so seeing her there in front of the TV close to midnight (it was much later than that, but he had no idea), turned on na emergency light in his mind.

Normally he was the owl of that house.

“Hey baby, why’re you still awake?” he asked. “I said you didn’t have to wait for me.”

“I just felt like watching a Studio Ghibli film. Only that.” She explained without looking at him.

No fucking way it was just that. She was frowning. One of those moments where Momo turned into a bomb and it was up to Y/N to disarm it without it exploding. The problem was that this was an impossible task to do, any wire he cut would result in an explosion. And that was the last thing he wanted. His head was already a battlefield in itself. That damn company party had exhausted his social battery, which wasn’t much anyway. Y/N didn’t have the courage to provoke an aerial bombardment that night.

"OK. Is the film already close to the end? I can see it with you.”

He sat on the left end of the sofa, Momo didn't mind moving his legs so he could have more space.

“Did you have fun there?” she asked.

"Yes. Was cool."

"Just that? No details?" she questioned him quite insistently.

“You’re watching the movie, I don’t want to disturb you. In the morning I’ll tell you everything.”

Y/N had his head focused on the bath he was going to take in a while and how he was going to sink his head into the pillow. No more plastic masks, fake laughs, shallow people, please.

She paused the movie.

“What a ridiculous excuse. It sounds like you were trying to hide the things that happened at the party.”

“No, it doesn’t sound…” He was almost sure of it.

“Yes it does, you bastard.”

“It wasn’t even a party. We were all among work colleagues.”

“I've been to enough parties to know that it was YES a party. Loud music, drinks, pool, snacks. The complete package.”

“It’s a damn modern company, okay? They please the employees and pretend to be cool so that we forget the slavery we are subjected to on a daily basis. You kids had fun on Saturday and you’ll work overtime on Monday, okay?”

“Wait, I made a mistake. In fact: VIP package. They even hired prostitutes. Five star service.”

“Are you high or what?”

He was too tired to read the signs.

“I saw the way she kept touching you. The giggles... As if you were the funniest clown on the planet and she was a fucking hyena.”

Y/N abruptly stood up from the couch. He had finally understood everything. The last spark of his neurons, probably.

“There were no prostitutes. And I wasn't chatting up with any girls.”

"Oh, really?" She stood up too. “Let me refresh your memory, dear: short black hair, horse smile, lilac dress, can't stand alone unless she's supported by a man, small tits... Seriously, I don't know why she decided to wear that dress with cleavage if there was nothing there to show. Someone should tell her the truth. So, does this remind you of anyone, my love?”

The fucking bomb exploded in his hand.

“That was Rachel, a friend from work. How the hell did you see what was going on at the party?”

Momo laughed sadistically. Her wickedly beautiful eyes looked at him with intensity as she asked:

“Are you afraid?”

"No. I didn't do anything wrong to get scared. Did someone record me at the party?”

"Yes. And it wasn't just that. I also saw the stories of those who were at the party and you appeared in some of them in the corners. I saw everything.”

‡

Here's a little overview of this relationship: A year and a half of dating. They met through mutual friends and the first deep contact was delayed, but when it happened it ended up becoming a path of no return. Y/N avoided her as much as he could, not in a way that would be noticeable and make him seem rude. But we were talking about an incredibly beautiful woman, aware of her attractiveness and unfettered by modesty. She was with a group of eight other beautiful and popular girls. Yes, she was elite. High caliber, my friend. Well, he was... quiet, an avid reader, calm and sometimes melancholic, but he loved being with his friends and enjoying them on the weekends, respecting his limits, of course. When he saw Momo for the first time he cowardly ignored her. She looks stunning in front of his eyes, wearing a short denim skirt, a baby tee that leaves her sculpted abs on display and her hair flowing in the wind as she dances. There was no way to predict that the plan would backfire; by not noticing her, Y/N became one of the few guys who didn't try to flirt with her. Apathetic guy, but handsome enough to take risks, the little boy who only swims in the shallow end, a plastic armor he forced himself to wear.

The reason? Momo didn't know, but she wanted to find out.

On one of the many night outs where they bumped into each other, Momo skillfully simulated an intimacy that clearly didn't exist between them, talking to Y/N closely, fake accidental touches, and killer eye contact. Abruptly, intimacy between them was forged and evolved in a short space of time. After a while it was no longer strange when they were among friends and Momo sat on his lap, or when she felt tired and rested her head on his shoulder. And Y/N could play hard to get, but he loved the attention he got from Momo, the controversial “bad bitch” (as some girls who didn't like Momo called her), the most attractive girl he knew was always glued to him, and the sexual chemistry that grew over time intoxicated his ego. Being with her made him feel good and more confident and also… shit, she was more than a superficial person or 'just another one of those teasing girls' like a lot of guys used to think. She had a unique way, attitude and things to say too.

‡

“Were you acting like a stalker all night? Seriously, watching stories of other people trying to see me from the corners is a fucking weird thing.”

“And you've been acting like you don't have a girlfriend all night? I almost called Jihyo to drive me to this party to say a few things to that bitch. But I’m not that kind of girlfriend.”

“What is the reason we are arguing? This shit doesn't make sense. I'm exhausted..."

“Have you forgotten your promise? You told me you would arrive early...”

“I didn’t look at the time when I was there. I thought it was still early when I was leaving the party.”

A cynical laugh escaped Momo's mouth.

“You didn't even bother to look at your fucking cell phone to see the time. What is your problem?"

Y/N sighed. He should have already known that going to this party wouldn't be a good idea.

“You know I only went to the party to establish some contacts with the other branch. The damn job forces me to maintain a good relationship with everyone.”

"Poor boy! Does it also force you to talk to sluts?”

"This again?!”

“A little bird told me you were too close to each other on the couch.”

“Who was this damn person?”

“Why blow the heroine’s cover? Maybe she’ll be there again at the next parties.”

“Would you like it if I hired someone to follow you around?”

"Go ahead. I have nothing to hide, because I have consideration and respect for you, asshole!”

“According to you, I cheated you just by sitting on a couch talking to a co-worker. A colleague who can help me move up in the company as she has just been promoted.”

“Apparently it’s not just at work where she likes to be promoted.”

"What do you want from me?" he asked, feeling defeated.

"You know what I want."

“Honestly, I don't know. God must be punishing me for some sin I committed, that’s the only explanation.”

“Make me your girlfriend or your tormentor. You decide." She took a step forward. “You know I could be with anyone. But I'm with you ‘cause I love you, silly.”

If only there wasn't something genuine about it all.

‡

Being alone with her knocking down topic after topic like dominoes was so fucking enjoyable, the way she laughed, the way she listened to him (Momo didn't interrupt him even during the long pauses he took when he needed to organize his line of reasoning, a mere peculiarity of his but which never went under her radar), the way she could be incredibly silly at times and, even without sharing many common interests, Momo liked having him explain things that were previously uninteresting to her. This attention he received was blinding and addictive. Growing up in a harmful and neglectful home, neediness was his compass and his weakness. But he never showed signs. Y/N was good at disguising it... He thought so.

Their first sex was an unforgettable moment, a path of no return, in the same way that a criminal remembers the moment of the crime that sentenced him to prison. It occurred when they were on a camping trip, good friends gathered, each to their own tent, campfire, marshmallows, snacks, stupid horror stories, and wine. One of the few moments where he felt slightly intimidated around her, as he felt Momo watching him like a predator, and after each glass of wine she became more and more intoxicated, grabbing Y/N from behind and wrapping her arms around him. “It’s very cold here” she whispered in his ear. And Y/N couldn't tell if it was the wind or Momo's velvety voice so close to him that made him shiver.

The hours passed incredibly quickly, eventually everyone retreated to their tents, and eventually there was a slow cessation of the noises of people, finally leaving only the cold whistle of the wind, the rustle of leaves in the trees that surrounded the hill where they were camped and the symphony of insects orchestrated by crickets and cicadas.

He heard sneaky footsteps. It was certainly someone who needed to take a piss and didn't want to wake the others. But the footsteps got louder and louder until he noticed that someone was actually coming to his tent, stopping in front of the entrance. The flash on his cell phone was on (he was reading a book and the damn camp lamp was emitting a horrible orange light), so he pointed the light at the entrance of the tent and saw a very familiar silhouette.

“It’s me, Momo. Let me in!" she whispered. "Quickly!"

Y/N lowered the zipper, opening the way for her.

“What are you doing up?” he asked.

“I was sleepless so I decided to come and check on you.”

"I am well thanks."

She was wearing comfortable clothes. Striped pajama pants, a sweatshirt that was too big on her and her hair loose and messy. Y/N noticed that Momo had removed her makeup. It was the first time he had seen her like that.

"What are you reading?" Momo asked as she sat down.

“Tropic of Cancer, by Henry Miller.”

"Cool! What is it about?!"

How the hell was he going to explain this?

“About a guy living in Paris.”

"It seems good. Read a chapter to me.”

"How old are you?"

“Don’t be annoying. Let's do it like this: I point the cell phone's flash at the book and you hold it while you read to me. This way we can read lying down.”

Hard to refuse, hard to say 'no' to her.

‡

“You know I love you too, Momori.” he said

Momo was wearing his long-sleeved shirt, she loved that shirt and, truth be told, it looked incredibly good on her. The legs so sensually exposed... Was that still a discussion?

“Sometimes you make me doubt this love, baby. Do you like making me look crazy? I swear to God you love seeing me jealous. When I get like this, does it make you horny?”

“No” he lied to one of the questions.

“You know how I am, Y/N.” One more step forward. She could touch him if she wanted. “And I only ask one thing: don’t talk to other girls. We establish a limit and then cross it, what is the purpose?”

Now closer he could smell her, her body that was warmed by the blanket. Nipples hardened through the fabric of her clothing.

“You look so beautiful...” he blurted out of her mouth.

“But I don’t think I’m beautiful enough for you since you try to be with other girls when I’m not around.”

"Is not true. I only have eyes for you, Momori.”

With a decisive gesture she grabbed Y/N by the collar of his social shirt. A noise escaped his mouth. Slowly she ordered:

“Say you are mine. Say you belong to me.”

‡

He felt her head moving on his chest, he thought she was just looking for a comfortable position, until he was surprised by a kiss on the neck. And another one. And another, and they were getting more and more intense.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he lowered the book, the air escaping from her mouth.

“This book is really interesting and even put me in the mood to do something more fun.”

"What are you talking about?"

He had his hands pressed into Momo's arms, but he made no real effort to push her away.

“I know what you think about me. I know what you want from me. Don’t try to hide it now.” Her voice breathy and wavering. “I want to fuck you so bad, fuck!”

"Here?"

"Now!”

Y/N turned Momo around, placing her back on the floor and then getting on top of her.

“Momo…” His head was a hurricane. Was this really happening? “I've imagined the two of us doing this, but I never thought it could actually happen.”

There was a pause that was filled by a kiss.

“I don’t think you know how hot you are. Other girls were also eyeing you, so I decided to act quickly.”

Y/N lifted Momo's sweatshirt, and was able to appreciate and touch her abs for the first time. Kissing her abdomen was like an achievement, she knew how beautiful it was, that's why she never made a point of hiding it. The soft, slightly sweaty skin met his lips in a mix of sensations.

He lifted her sweatshirt a little more, exposing her juicy boobs. They were big, he knew that, but the first glimpse paralyzed him for an instant, he was amazed, and his hand filled with desire wasted no time in grabbing one of the tits while his mouth sucked the other..

“Oh, Y/N” she moaned.

The cell phone's flashlight went out as they rolled from side to side in the camping tent. Surrounded by the weak orange light of the camp lantern, the senses now seemed more heightened, the touches more intense and brazen, the breathing more labored and an uncontrollable lust, noticeable in several ways, such as Momo's pussy that wet his fingers when he touched her down there.

‡

“I belong to you” he declared. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I am only yours, Momori.”

She smiled satisfied.

"Sit down!" she exclaimed harshly, and pushed him onto the couch. Momo certainly knew how to impose herself when she wanted, the mechanism of submitting him to her will through horny never failed. Sitting on his lap, she said: “You like to make me suffer, you know that? You like having your girlfriend mad so she can have hard sex with you and get you back on track. So depraved, baby!”

It was partly true, although he wasn't consciously acting to make her jealous. The problem was that this wasn't a difficult task, the girl was possessive as hell, so the options fluctuated between becoming a puppy on a leash or floating on the waves of a tide that could occasionally get... Aggressive.

"Do not say that. I don’t like making you feel bad.”

She kissed him, she felt Y/N getting excited down there.

“And yet you hurt me.”

He couldn't refute it, so her tongue had another use; warm and wet, she played with Momo's tongue. She sighed when he lightly bit her lower lip, slowly removing the pressure, enjoying her taste like a professional taster.

“It was never my intention,” he said. “Your jealousy is sick.”

“Living with you is hell, you know that?” she revealed. “But you always make me feel so surrendered." Momo slowly touched her nose to Y/N's. She whispered: "It’s a fucking hell, baby.”

Instead of responding, he decided to dedicate a series of kisses to her neck. Momo loved it, it was her weakness. She smiled while letting out small moans of satisfaction.

Momo stroked his dick and under the fabric of his underwear and pants he was already completely hard, waiting for her. She rubbed her hand on his dick eagerly while he felt her breasts and left hickey marks on her neck.

“Oh baby, I want your cock in my pussy so bad!”

‡

He covered her mouth with his hand while he penetrated her deeply. The friends' camping tents were close to Y/N's, and Momo was moaning loudly, so it wouldn't be difficult to hear her in the silence of the night.

“Shhh! You can’t make noise like that!” he said breathlessly.

“It’s fucking hard. Your dick is really big.”

At one point she crossed her legs around Y/N's waist and he could feel her pussy getting tighter and wetter. Immediately Y/N laid his body under hers, penetrating her with force, feeling her pussy swallow his cock eager for pleasure. She moaned loudly, Y/N sucked on her tongue in an attempt to suppress some of the noise, Momo's eyes rolling back in pleasure as her legs tightened around him, pulling him deeper, as if she could never have him inside enough. Each thrust was an explosion of raw sensation, her insides wetting his cock urgently as he fucked her with wild love, each movement driven by desire that had been postponed for too long.

“Lie on your side!” Y/N asked.

He watched her with burning lust, his eyes fixed on her pert ass, eager to possess her in a different way. With one quick movement, he positioned himself behind her, his cock pulsing with anticipation as he slid in, feeling enveloped by the warm wetness of her wet pussy. He gripped Momo tightly, his hands marking her skin as he fucked her sideways, each thrust sending waves of electric pleasure throughout her body. Momo's moans filled the air, soft and sweet, mixing with the sounds of the wet friction his dick made as it slid inside her. All the touches, the intimate conversations, the looks that met and lost each other when they were in the circle of friends, the jealousy they hid from each other when one of them was talking to someone else, all these things led them to this moment , and now they assumed this feeling… making love.

Momo showed some of her talent when she rode his dick with her back to him, Y/N's body rippling with desire as she rode him with full force. Her hips moved with an erotic cadence, his cock disappearing inside her with each thrust as if he were plunging into a warm ocean. He squeezed Momo's fat ass, guiding her movements as she gave herself over to the frenzy of sex, her moans intensifying with each thrust – fuck if anyone would hear. The tension between them was palpable, the air in the tent stifling as they neared their climax. And then, finally, Momo squirted, her body shaking with the intensity of her orgasm, as Y/N watched her in wonder in the light of the camp lantern, her silhouette writhing with pleasure, so perfect, so sensual that he could fill her of cum at that moment.

Something he didn't do.

Things happened so fast that Y/N didn't have time to put on a condom. Well, truth be told, he DID NOT have a condom in his tent (not the kind of thing you think about taking on a camping trip with friends when you're a single guy).

“Cum for me, baby” she asked, her voice full of lust. “Where do you want to cum?”

“On your tits.”

It was one of Y/N's fantasies, it usually came to his mind when he saw Momo with cleavage. Now it all seemed so intentional...

Y/N stood on top of Momo, his desire burning so strong he could barely think straight. With shaking hands, he grabbed Momo's massive boobs, feeling his hard-on grow as he squeezed them tightly. Y/N wanted to feel every inch of that soft flesh surrounding his thick cock, he wanted to sink into that delicious sensation until he lost his mind. And then, without further hesitation, he began to move frantically, sliding his hard cock between Momo's breasts with great desire. Loud moans echoed through the tent as he gave in to the pleasure of that sensation, losing himself in the sensation of heat and pressure.

“You gonna cum for me, huh?” she asked between moans, making a point of maintaining latent eye contact while smiling naughty.

“Yeah, I'm gonna cum for you, baby! You're gonna make me cum, Momo.”

“please please, cum for me!! Yeah! Cum for your naughty babygirl...” she begged, hot as fuck, while biting her lower lip like a horny bitch.

And when Y/N finally reached the edge he let out a primal groan, his orgasm exploding in a hot shot over Momo's boobs and face. She looked so beautiful like that in the light of the camp lamp. Y/N brushed her face with his dick, making a nice mess on that adorable little face, and she smiled while this happened, Momo smiled until he finished his art, she finished the job by licking what was left on the head of his dick.

Uninhibited from any shyness, thanks to the endorphins his brain had released, he smiled at her, finding her the most beautiful woman in the world, and into Momo's precious eyes, Y/N confessed: 'I wanna love you.’

‡

It's common to look for culprits in a dysfunctional relationship, who manipulates who, the prisoner and the jailer and all that old story. It's hard to admit that sometimes there is a dark pleasure in predicting events, returning to the same place that is your refuge and your sentence. Most people shoot at "emotional dependence", but few dare to target "connivance". Y/N felt like he was part of the second option. Repeat the fucking pattern, see the wheel spin in the same direction, the same trip as before. It's your pit of lies and acceptance, man, you smell the stench and yet you insist on moving forward, it's not much different than a dog licking its own vomit. At the end of the day, no one will tell you that you deserve better.

If you really deserve it.

"I remember what you said to me that night in the camping tent." She whispered, lying under his chest. "When we had sex for the first time. 'I wanna love you'. That's what you said. Your voice was so sweet and calm. I think that's when I realized that my feelings for you were really special."

The two were snuggled in bed, protected from the cold by the blankets, completely naked after having sex. This was always how fights ended, and the question that arose was: what's the next thing, now? An apology? Unfounded promises about how to improve as a person? Affectionate words to dissolve what was said during the fight? It was a mystery box.

"Those were the words? I honestly don't remember the exact words clearly."

"That's exactly what you told me. I slept with you in the camping tent feeling very happy."

"I was happy to be with you too."

"But at that time I didn't realize that you were actually still trying to fall in love with me. You wanted to love me, but you didn't really love me yet."

"I was a little confused at that time."

"What now? Are you still trying to love me?"

"I love you, Momori. but at the same time... I don't think we work together.”

"We agreed to it then. And honestly, does it matter?"

"I don't know. I feel like it doesn't matter anymore."

"Yeah! And look, we're not the only couple to go through problems like this. We're not alone in this, baby. Forget that Hollywood bullshit about perfect couples. It's not real. It's okay for me to stay like this, as long as we stay together."

"We always fix things."

"Making love is a great way to solve problems. That's our formula."

"Come here, my love" he said.

A/N: sorry for any grammar errors 🖖

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ladykailitha · 1 month

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Icarus Part 7

Hey, guys! I hope you're all still enjoying this story! It's a blast to write.

Here we have Gareth's explosion and the resulting fallout.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

****

When Eddie got back to his hotel he had all three of his bandmates waiting for him.

Jeff had his arms crossed, glaring at the other two. “I’m here under protest, I told them you had messaged me that you wouldn’t be coming home last night but they still thought you were being kidnapped or some shit.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at Gareth and Brian. “I’m a grown ass man who can do grown ass things like have sex with another man and spend the night.” He raised his had to stall the onslaught of questions that were no doubt about to screamed at him. “Of course I didn’t get papped. I never get papped. Jesus Christ.”

“We’re supposed to be working on our ninth album,” Gareth growled. “Fucking act like it.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “You don’t get to say that this time. Not after what you and Bri did in London last time,” he hissed. “We had a chance to record in the actual fucking Abbey Road Studios and you two went on a three day bender where Jeff and I didn’t even know where you were. It got so fucking bad, you two have been banned from drinking at all this record.”

Brian had the decency to look chastised. But not Gareth, he doubled down.

“Which is why it’s so important that you don’t do it either,” he snarled back. “We don’t want to be kicked out of this studio too.”

“I was back before breakfast was being served!”

Jeff stood up and held out his hands. “All right, enough! Gareth this attitude is getting out of hand. No one has done more for this band than Eddie and you acting like he’s gonna do a runner at any moment is fucking ridiculous. And after all these years if he hasn’t run off yet, he sure as hell ain’t gonna now.”

“You need to work on your abandonment issues, dude,” Eddie snapped. “I have put my heart and soul into this band and I really don’t appreciate the constant insinuation that each concert, each album is going to be the last.”

Gareth stood up, fists clenched at his side. “You mean to tell me if Steve Harrington walked in here and offered to suck your dick in exchange for you quitting the band, that you wouldn’t?”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie said coldly. “And he would never ask. God.” He ran his hands over his face and began to pace. “His little brother is like our number one fan. You know that guy I took with me back to Hawkins?”

Gareth nodded curtly, but Eddie could tell he was starting to unbend.

“He loves our band,” he continued, pulling at his hair. “So that’s just one of many reasons why he wouldn’t. The biggest one, though, Gare.” He whirled around pointed directly at him. “Is that he knows what this band means to me and would never make me choose.”

His lip wobbled and the glimmer of unshed tears stuck to his eyelashes. “Because he loves me.”

Eddie sank to his knees, hands in his hair and began to rock back and forth.

“You take care of Gareth,” Brian said to Jeff, quiet but harsh into the silence that followed that statement. “I’ll take care of Eddie.”

Jeff nodded and bullied Gareth out of the room. The door closed and the remaining two could hear the harsh tones of the two who had left.

Brian got on his knees in front of Eddie and gently removed Eddie’s hands from his hair.

“Hey, Ed,” Brian murmured. “Can you look up at me for a moment? I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Eddie looked up at him. “That’s who I was with last night,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Steve said that he loved me and he kissed me, Bri. It was so special.”

Bri sighed and sat down cross-legged from him. “It’s that we’re all supposed to be sequestered and you snuck off, only telling Jeff where you went. So Gareth and I freaked out a bit.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Maybe a lot.”

Eddie ran his fingers through his hair, settling into a more comfortable position on the floor.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, his voice clearer than before. “That was stupid of me. But I don’t think it’s fair that Jeff and I are being punished by the label for something you and Gare did.”

Brian scooted forward until their knees were touching. “It’s not and I am sorry about that. My girlfriend had broken up with me at same time I learned that I was asexual and I was in a really bad place. But I shouldn’t have let Gareth talk me into that bender, there was no excuse.”

“I’m afraid if he has another outburst,” Eddie murmured, “that everyone is gonna want us to replace him. The label, our PR firm, even our Chrissy would be forced to concede that the band can’t continue with him in it. And I don’t want that. But I will not have my life dictated to by someone who is four years my junior.”

Brian let out a long shuddering breath. “You’re right. While we’re here, if he’s willing, we should get him some therapy. Because I don’t want to lose him either. You guys are my family and have been forever.”

“Back ‘attcha, Bri,” Eddie murmured. “Last night was so good and I had awesome news for everyone that I couldn’t wait to tell you guys.”

Brian chuckled. “Even more awesome then sex with Steve Harrington? Must have been off the charts then.”

“I snuck out to see The Fallen in concert,” Eddie said chewing on his lip.

“Of course you did,” Brian said rolling his eyes. “And of course if we’d all gone it would have completely ruined their last show because it would have been all about us and not them.” He stuck out his tongue. “You still suck though.”

Eddie laughed. “Just wait, it gets better.”

Brian waved his hand for him to continue.

“So I was also able to get backstage where I got to meet Abbadon–”

“Gareth is going to murder you and then bring you back to life so that he can murder you all over again,” Brian said dryly, shaking his head.

“Do you think he’ll grant me a stay of execution if I told him I asked Abbadon if he thought his band would want a chance to headline for us?” Eddie asked batting his eyelashes and clutching his hands to his chest dramatically.

Brian blinked at him for a moment. “I guess that would depend on if they said yes...” he said honestly.

“All of them have to agree,” he replied with a shrug, “but Abbadon was pretty sure that they would.”

Brian sat there a moment. He licked his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I think we should use it as leverage.”

Eddie’s head reared back. “What do you mean?”

“Tell Gareth that if he gets therapy, The Fallen will tour with us,” Brian explained. “But if he won’t, he has to take the tour off and go into rehab.”

“Oh.”

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip as he thought about it. “I think we should ask Jeff and if he agrees, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Brian nodded. “I love him like a brother, but this was the last straw I think.”

“Let’s call Chrissy in on this, too,” Eddie said.

“Yeah.” He let out a shuddering breath. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do this.”

****

They ended up staging an intervention and using The Fallen as incentive they all got Gareth to agree to counseling.

A therapist would come in twice a week and Gareth would have two hours sessions with this person.

They were carefully vetted by Chrissy and the rest of the band, but finally they decided on one that would help Gareth.

Dr. Sam Owens came in and Eddie, Brian, and Jeff all sat in Brian’s suite, waiting for him to be done.

They tried to work on music but it felt flat without Gareth there. They tried watching a movie but they couldn’t decide which one.

They simple sat in silence until it was five minutes before the session was up. Then they slowly made the trek to Gareth’s suite.

Dr Owens came out first.

“I can’t discuss anything that went on in our session,” he warned.

“It’s just–” Jeff said, distressed. “Are you going to work out with Gareth?”

Brian nodded. “We just want to make sure we don’t need to vet someone else. He’s okay with continuing to see you, right?”

Dr Owens softened. “I understand now. My apologies. Often managers and fellow band members ask– rather, they demand to know what was said.”

“Not cool,” Jeff said. “We’d never. We just want to make sure it goes as smoothly as possible, because we care. We want him to get better.”

Dr. Owens nodded. “Thank you. You should be all right to go in and see him. We didn’t get to anything gritty today.”

They all nodded and bid the doctor goodbye.

Jeff knocked on the door and was promptly told to come in.

All three of them slipped into the suite. Jeff and Brian surged forward and gave him a group hug.

It took them a moment but they realized that Eddie had been quiet this whole time, that he had hung back when they entered the room.

He stood in front of the door with his hands on his lower back, just watching them shower Gareth with affection.

But he didn’t know what to do. Gareth had really hurt him. Had made an event that had been so happy for him and turned it to ash on his tongue. His first time with Steve would always be tainted by Gareth screaming at him.

Steve had been so angry when he heard what Gareth had done and was ready to pull out of the tour, everyone else’s disappointment be damned. But Eddie had talked him down. Told him about the intervention. The deal that could be struck and Steve reluctantly agreed.

One therapy session didn’t make up for all the hurt and anger he had felt.

They all turned to look at him and Eddie felt like he was the one who was in trouble, not Gareth. His lip wobbled as he sucked in a breath.

He turned on his heel and would have ran if he hadn’t felt arms wrap around his waist.

“I’m sorry,” Gareth mumbled into his back. “God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You’re my best friend. My brother. I’m so sorry, Ed. Please don’t go.”

Eddie wrapped one hand around Gareth’s arm and pressed the other against the wood frame of the door. He laid his head on the door and let out that shuddering breath in a long exhale.

“You hurt me so bad, Gare,” Eddie whispered. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

He could feel Gareth nodding into his back.

“I don’t know how you didn’t drown like the rest of us,” Gareth said. “But I want to be more like you, Eddie. Please don’t go. I don’t think I could take it.”

Eddie huffed out a sigh.

“It’s because I saw what the worst of those vices did to a person,” he said, slowly turning around so that they were face to face. “And I made a promise to my Uncle Wayne and on my mama’s grave that I wouldn’t turn out like my dad. It hasn’t always been easy, in fact it’s been fucking hard almost all of the time, but I work at it.”

Gareth had tears streaming down his face.

“You’ve got to let me live my life, man,” Eddie finished. “I won’t let you ruin a good thing that I’ve got going for me because you have abandonment issues.”

Gareth let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah. I promise to be better. I promise to stick with therapy. Just promise you won’t give up on me.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around his friend and held on tight. “I promise.”

****

Part 8 Part 9

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach

@val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch

@bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian

@thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners

@thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade

@cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar au

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tenko-thinks · 9 months

Note

Okay okay now the pregnancy prompt with the Hantengu clones please? 🍿👀

(Would Urogi's result in an egg 🤔 Bonus if Urogi's has wings too and starts flying after like two months or something lol)

MAMA ( NON GENDERED ) THE POPCORN PLEASE. These will be shorter bc there's four mfs on this post

The Hantengu clones with a pregnant s/o + Fathering hcs

Cws : pregnancy, labor and childbirth ( nondescript ) , karaku is . Like that , sekido has like some implied toxic behavior but what do u want from me

Sekido

Pregnancy with sekido... Godspeed ladies and others with the ability to get knocked up.

He notices the change in your demeanor almost immediately. You avoiding him and being skittish.

Of course it pisses him off, figuring you're hiding something from him. He'll grab you by the arm and yell "out with it! There's no way a mortal like you would be stupid enough to cheat right!?"

And when you say you're pregnant he thinks he might be wrong on that assumption until you tell him without a doubt that it's his. Then he's just... Stumped? Doesn't know how to process that information.

During the duration of the pregnancy he's skeptical. And keeps tabs on you constantly. The idea of a demon siring is so unheard of it's only natural that he'd worry about loyalty.

God awful when it comes to handling hormones and mood swings. He doesn't know how to soothe you and ends up frustrated with himself which leads to an explosion on the other clones. Never you. He knows stress could kill the child, after all. He's not daft.

Even if he grumbles, sekido is very willing and happy to massage your ankles and any other soreness from your body.

When labor comes knocking? Sekido is snapping at the other three constantly as they flounder around uselessly. Flailing with the midwife watching them like a group of crazy people.

It's too silent comparatively when you're screaming in agony and all he can do is hold your hand while Urogi and Karaku offer platitudes he can't.

A daughter. Small and so so frail compared to her father. Resting in his arms as you recover from the task of birth.

Sekido has never claimed to be a perfect man. And he will never claim to be a perfect father.

He snaps at the little girl often . And will often apologize by offering her gifts. Words have never been his strong suit.

He gets worse as she ages. Not towards her , but the idea of her getting older. Relying on him less.

Protective and stern dad. No boyfriends.

Karaku

"How much sex have you been having without me??"

Punch him in the mouth first of all. But he's a tease through and through. Especially if you're a monogamous sort.

He "accuses" you of cheating despite knowing well and good you almost certainly haven't. Especially when he hardly lets you leave your home. He just likes getting you defensive and huffy!!

He's honestly pretty surprised though! Demons aren't supposed to have kids! Boy is your womb built different!

Karaku pouts when your hormones make you anything else other than horny. It's the one he's best suited to handling!! And you're just gonna be a bitch because your brain chemicals are off kilter? Weak.

Despite being a brat he's actually rather attentive. Being a creature of pleasure, Karaku is the most adjusted to being around humans and interacting with them. So he knows how to placate you!

Likes to tease about silly cravings you have though. So long as he thinks you can handle it.

Labor? Karaku has left the building in order to scream into the wilderness give him 10 minutes. He wants to not overwhelm you while you're busy pushing something out of you.

When he returns he's ignoring sekido's glower in favor of returning to your side and helping you through the process.

And as his son is born all he can think about is how gorgeous you are. All exhausted. But so much stronger than so many slayers hes faced! He thinks at least.

Kara is a fun dad kind of guy. One who prioritizes play over discipline or academics. So those will fall to you for the most part. He's not incapable. Just... annoying?

You have come home to Karaku lodged in a half broken wall because he thought it a good idea to hand a three year old his uchiwa.

You know that meme of the mom scolding the kid , the dad stepping in and proceeding to get scolded? Yeah that's karaku.

Aizetsu

"It's sad, knowing you're lying to me."

Is his dead ass reaction, and bro just straight up starts to walk away. You have to grab him and insist several times you went to the doctor and confirmed it!! You even have the doctor's note!

Aizetsu still doesn't believe it until you start to show symptoms. Only then does he stop sulking about your cruel prank on him.

Holds your hair back as you suffer from morning sickness. What a champ. Even if he's grossed out.

He's the most attentive and empathetic of the clones!! The best at giving words of affirmation when you're crying over silly things. Or when he tells you he won't let you eat rocks.

Sometimes if you're lucky you can catch a glimpse of a smile when he's looking at your bump growing. He likes having his hand there. Assuring himself that it's real and not some dream.

Aizetsu speaks to your stomach often, telling your child about his day and asking questions. He has full on conversations with them!

To be honest... labor? Aizetsu will probably black out and/or faint throughout the entire process. Coming to when Karaku is shaking him about how cute his new daughter is.

And he nearly ( does ) break down at the revelation that he has a little girl.

When he holds her for the first time he whispers to her how he'll never let her suffer or even know sorrow. While you're unconscious.

He stays true to his word as well. Whenever his daughter fusses he's there in an instant. Calming her. Feeding her. Whatever it is she needs. You wake up quite often to the sight of Aizetsu cradling her against his chest while waiting for you to wake up.

She becomes a spoiled princess because of it. But he wouldn't have her any other way. After all, he wants her happy.

Urogi

At first, Urogi is perplexed. Head cocked n all.

Now, to have eggs would insinuate having a cloaca and being fertilized. And I'm assuming you to be human.

So really it's more awe in how you are able to carry his children in the first place.

But he's ecstatic! Beyond excited!

Of course he'll have to ask around for advice but he's doing the best he can!! Running errands for you, making sure you're comfortable, etc

His method of dealing with your hormones is to try and make you laugh. In any way he can. Jokes. Silly faces. Shock. So long as he can get you laughing!

Instinctively he makes a nest out of all of your blankets , pillows and towels. A place for you and his chicks to be safe! And warm!! Incubated!!

Insists that you birth in the nest! It's the best for the babies. Is what his instincts are telling him.

He wants to touch your bump, but with his talons he settles instead on resting his head on it. Listening for any movement and smiling in awe at how they move around.

Urogi handles labor surprisingly well. He's territorial of course, so the other three aren't allowed in. Only you, him and a midwife.

He cheers you on the entire time. Offering his arms to squeeze as to not harm you with talons. He'd much rather you not bleed out in the nest while giving birth. Especially because you got a vein with his claws.

Yet he hears two little cries. Apparently the first had been silent until her little sister had also escaped you.

And the first thing he noticed were the beautiful downy wings on their backs. Only paired with talon like feet. Much more human hands. Unlike his own.

He watched you hold them. Listening to the chittering chirping noises they made.

Oh what a day to be the clone of joy!

And he continues to think that when his two little girls are attempting ( in vain ) to flutter after him. Wings still far too downy to do any proper flying.

Preens them incessantly!! Hair and wings !! And he's elated to watch you do the same. Caring for them the same way he taught you to care for his!!

When the day they begin to fly at the age of three? He knows what anxiety is. Watching them clumsily flutter about like a hawk, and saving them any time they begin to falter.

It makes you laugh, how nervous he gets about something that used to absolutely drive him wild with excitement when they were born.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #sekido #sekido x reader #aizetsu #aizetsu x reader #karaku x reader #karaku #urogi x reader #urogi #kny urogi #kny karaku #kny sekido #kny aizetsu

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sanjoongie · 7 months

Text

Summer Haze lined with Yellow Roses

A ~Cotton Tails and Simmering Fires~ Chapter

ღA series collab with @starlitmark

ღPairing: Dragon hybrid! San x Dragon hybrid! Yeosang x Bunny Hybrid! Reader (f) x Dragon hybrid! Seonghwa

ღGenre: smut, angst

ღAu: hybrid au

ღTrope: poly

ღWord Count: 1,039

ღRated: 18+ MDNI

ღWarnings: foursome, fragile mental state for reader, mxm, blowjobs, penetrative sex (with tea contraceptive), mentions of oral (f), pearl necklace, aftercare

ღDedication: @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii beta readers extraordinaire

ღSummary: when you and your three boyfriends think it's a good idea to enjoy all of your bodies in the same bed, troubled thoughts follow

ღMasterlist ღPrevious Chapter ღNext Chapter

Perhaps deciding to have a foursome with your polycule wasn’t the best idea. You loved San and Seonghwa. Your budding love for Yeosang was blooming as well. But having all four of you in the same room, sharing the same bed, sharing each other's bodies wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Deciding who went where was only the tip of the iceberg of problems. After a brief conversation, which almost killed your libido, it was decided that while you took Seonghwa in your mouth, Yeosang would fuck you and San would fuck Yeosang’s mouth. In theory, you’d figure it would work. Keeping San and Seonghwa separated would make it to be less explosive, since they tended to bicker the most when they both fucked you.

However… you kissed San deeply as foreplay, knowing you’d be well separated from him during the foursome. San loved to kiss you, and the deeper, the better. His kisses, stirred up with the heat from his lip ring, always made your nipples tighten. But once Yeosang lied down so that you could sit on him for reverse cowgirl, you lost that connection with the hybrid inside of you. You lost the stimulation of his scales along your clit like you were used to when you faced your partner as well.

Your ears must have been drooping because Seonghwa cupped your face and tipped it to look up at him. “Surely it’s not that disappointing to be sucking me off, Hops.”

You shook your head, trying to mentally shake the melancholy that was clinging to you. What was with you?

Seonghwa proceeded to smile serenely, thumb moving to your lips to rub them. Your tongue came out to play with the pad of his thumb and Seonghwa's slitted pupils blew open.

San was shifting to his position behind you, running his mouth like always. "Fuck her throat good, Seonghwa, I wanna hear those wet noises."

Seonghwa’s eyes never left your face as he replied to San. "Worry about your own throat fucking."

San grumbled under his breath and you heard Yeosang yelp behind you. "Seonghwa!" The green-eyed dragon protested.

Seonghwa grinned and then wondered if you were ready for him. You experimentally moved your hips and found that you were ready for both Yeosang to fuck you and Seonghwa to enter your mouth. "Ready, Hwa," you attempted to smile.

It was okay at first. Your mind was busy with timing Seonghwa’s thrusts into your throat and your breathing. Yeosang moved slowly inside of you, particularly careful with his girth and your 'tiny bunny hole' as San liked to call it.

Then you began to notice a lot of the focus was lost on you. Yeosang had to worry about San fucking his throat, which knowing San, that hybrid was jackhammering into Yeosang’s sweet mouth, fingers skimming down the elders scales along his hairline. As a result, Yeosang's thrusts were leaving much to be desired, weak and usually only jolting you when San caused him to choke on his dick. Then San and Seonghwa began to bicker since neither of their mouths were preoccupied. Seonghwa grinned that special grin as he got San worked up and you felt like you might as well not be in the room.

When your attitude soured, along with your smell, Seonghwa's eyes finally drew back to you but even that was lacking. "Yeosang not fucking you well enough, Treasure?"

You whimpered in need, your pussy throbbing dully with the lack of stimulation. You thought perhaps Seonghwa might suggest a position or even partner change but instead he simply offered to give you head separately afterwards.

San came with a loud grunt, unloading into Yeosang’s mouth like it was a normal occurrence, which you had been informed had been--before you had been introduced to the Thunder. Seonghwa popped out of your mouth and came on your tits as you had negotiated but the feeling of being used and unsatisfied remained.

You promptly lifted off of Yeosang and were smacked with a scene of cute domesticity. San was adoringly rubbing off his cum from Yeosang’s face with wet wipes. You turned hopefully to Seonghwa but when he finished cleaning himself up, he simply tossed the package to you. By the time you had finished cleaning up, San was cuddling Yeosang from behind, playing with his hair. Yeosang beamed with happiness at the attention, his tail fondly curling around San's wrist.

Seonghwa sat on the side of your bed, clearly waiting for you to lay yourself out so that he could eat you out but instead you grabbed YOUR robe--not one of your boyfriend’s shirts-- and quickly tied it around your waist.

"I think I'm going to shop online for some crystals," You said pointedly.

Seonghwa frowned in response. "But Hops, you didn't--San was going to jerk of Yeosang while I--"

You stomped your foot in stubbornness. "I'm good."

You could see out of your peripherals that San and Yeosang exchanged a look and then Seonghwa nodded. Were they all truly that close that they knew each other's thoughts with simply a look? Why did you feel like three boyfriends took a one night stand to bed where it should have felt like a poly group having loving sex with one another? You stomped your foot again.

San quickly got up and put some underwear on while Yeosang looked for his discarded.

"Whatever you need, Treasure," Seonghwa said with a sigh.

Once the three of them trundled out of your room, you threw yourself on your bed in defeat. But your nest smelled of San's sea breeze and Seonghwa’s strawberry jam, and Yeosang’s new addition of peppermint tea. Your eyes started to well up and then you threw off every offending item in your nest that reminded you of those three. When you were left with your comforter that only smelled of fresh cotton, you drew it around your head and your tears silently began to fall.

Was this a bad decision? Perhaps you should have stuck with just San. Perhaps you were not meant to share and be shared amongst this Thunder. Perhaps… you didn't know the answers to your problem currently. That was the most heart-wrenching thought of all.

ღMasterlist ღPrevious Chapter ღNext Chapter

Taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @stardragongalaxy @mingsolo @k-pop-ology

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ctasf series #cotton tails and simmering fires #jasper🌼#ღatz #ateez smut #topaz's work #atz smut

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gatheringbones · 7 months

Text

[“Some feminists are concerned that decriminalisation will make it harder to tackle exploitation and punish abusers. On the contrary: it is criminalisation which means that sex workers must hide from the police for fear of penalties such as arrest, eviction, or deportation.

Abusers know that sex workers cannot call on the state for help and are unlikely to be taken seriously in the occasional instances that we do. The criminalisation of prostitution drives violence against all women; criminalised sex workers become a ‘training ground’ where violent men can experiment with perpetrating violence, safe in the knowledge that their targets are unable to protect themselves or to get justice. Having ‘practiced’ on sex workers, such men often then move on to non–sex working women – a pattern we see in predators like Peter Sutcliffe and Adrian Bayley.

Many worry that if we allow the sex industry to exist without prohibition, we are condoning it and it will proliferate. This concern arguably reveals an unspoken belief that keeping prostitution dangerous – through making it illegal – acts as a useful downward pressure what might otherwise be an ‘unchecked’ tendency to sell sex. (Occasionally, this ‘unspoken’ belief is spoken: when sex workers met with the Irish justice minister to argue that criminalisation would make them less safe, the minister responded by observing that sex workers’ increased vulnerability to violence would at least deter women from entering the trade.)

It is worth noting that the number of sex workers in New Zealand has remained stable – the ‘explosion’ predicted in some quarters has not materialised. There is no evidence that changes to criminal law – including its removal – have a significant impact on the numbers of people who sell sex. As sex worker Jenny tells researchers,

I’ve worked illegally in other jobs, you know, I’ve worked under the table and that sort of thing. So … I guess I would say I probably would have done it [sex work] anyway. But, you know, I certainly felt that because it was legal … I felt more safer about it.

Nonetheless, conversations in feminist spaces become a tug-of-war. One anti-prostitution feminist organisation comments, ‘There are no advantages to sending the message to men that women and girls are commodities to be bought. The disadvantages to a society that sends this message, however, are severe and very difficult to reverse.’At the other end of this argument lies the unheard voice of sex workers like Pania, who speaks to the actual result of punitive ‘messaging’: ‘I’ve had clients who have come from countries where it’s illegal to be a client, and they have been on edge, scared, and difficult to manage.’

Whose worries, then, are to be given more weight? The relatively abstract anxieties of non-prostitute women about ‘messaging’, or the everyday, practical needs of working class people who want their work to be safer? The latter choice is the essence of harm reduction.”]

molly smith, juno mac, from revolting prostitutes: the fight for sex workers’ rights, 2018

#molly smith #juno mac #currently reading #history stuff #cw rape

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hellaphresh · 7 months

Text

Separate pieces from my fursona reference.

The original is too big and the quality gets worse when uploaded.

Hope these ones will look better.

Any and all pronouns for Aurelius.

More info under the cut.

Name: Aurelius

Species: Khay’reek

Age: Adult

Height: 120 Cm / 3.937 Ft

Gender: Xenogender

Pronouns: Any / All Including neos

Orientation: Aro / Ace | Romance and sex repulson

Personality: Emotions can run very high very quickly. And negative ones take time to go down. Also unable to deal with them. Extremely easy to get stressed out, and terrible at dealing with that too. Is aware of these issues now and is trying to make sure this will not bring any negative consequences to others, but since it cannot deal, it is stewing in its own issues and tries not to explode externaly.

Some might think he is shy, but that is not the case. That is fear. Fear of dealing with anybody. Internally she is far less patient than it appears. They believe in being kind on principle ( if they deserve it ), but they are easy to annoy or anger. Only their fear keeps them in check then, unless they simply explode.

Beside their rocky emotions, Aurelius actually firmly believes everyone should be free to live their life how they please, as long as they are not harming others. Trully harming. Hating on somebody because they annoy you, not even on purpose, does not count. Others are not obligated to live the way you wish they would.

Likes animals, soft things and mainly shiny and sparkly colors.

Backstory: Aurelius used to be non corporeal entity consisting of pure magic. Connected to the star of Khay'reek´s home planet.

Khay'reeks worshipped it as a god ( does not necessarily means anything good in their believs ). Cosmic beings are not supposed to interact with mortals, but it was too curious. Cosmic beings do not have personalities, but by interacting with mortals it started to mirror whatever idea they had of it. It was considered corrupt. Got banished to body. Physical body. It was not the body it has now. The original had too much raw magic to fully contain. That creation was being much more closer to horror. With partially physical base, magic was not enough to sustain it. It was hungry. Khay'reeks begged to be saved and their wish was granted.

Most of the magic that created it was destroyed. Now, through still high, the magic could be contained by much more usual body. They used skull of a dead Khay'reek, and the being used that as a base for its new body.

Now Aurelius has body like any other Khay'reek. Except eye color and really impossible mane colors, which bear some resemblance to its original form. The body is also immortal, after all it is prison, you would not just let them leave it.

Despite some differences there is a lot of restrictions the body have. Its brain for example can retain only as much as mortals can. Aurelius lived for many many years, but ey do not remember any of that. Xey do not remeber how xey got the name. Or what personality sparkle had before. The only memories kept is something much more akin to regular mortal life.

Abilities: Aurelius have a lot of magic power. Raw power, actually. They are not good at refining it into anything. It is the raw power that lets them do anything because it is strong enough to materialise as it is.

This makes em good at shields, barriers and explosions of raw power. But not any other magical abilities that require refinement.

No levitation, no telepathy, no power over elements. No healing magic. Do not under any circumstances try its healing abilities. Absolutely no complicated and more structured magic.

Sparkles raw magic appears in dual colors that behave differently. Orange which can have form of bubbles and electricity. And dark purple, which appears as thick goo. It may drip upwards for some reason. Orange is the original. The purple is result by getting corrupted by physical body.

—————

Colors

No need to be exact, those are mainly for me, or in case it is more helpfull like this.

Fur middle tone: fcbe8f

Fur dark tone: c27b50

Fur light tone: fee8db

Inside mouth: 964242

Tongue / Gums / Skin: fd9d8f

Teeth: fff0c5

Hooves / Horns: fed699

Hair gradient: 9affdd ~ 9aedff ~ 9bc5ff ~ b39aff ~ cd9aff ~ ec9afe

Hair shine: ffffff add layer 35% opacity

Pupil: 000000

Eyelashes: 471051

Eye dark tone: a739be

Eye middle tone: e56efe

Eye light tone: f5c8ff

Eyewhite: f9f9f9

Glasses rim: 77006e

Glasses lens: ff38ef 60% opacity

Bowtie / Eyeshadow: fccf5a

Bowtie / Eyeshadow shines: ffffff add layer 40% opacity

Shorts: afaae7

Shorts light tone / Zipper / Buttons: dad4ff

Hoodie dark tone: 9955bf

Hoodie light tone: d98fff

Left upper sleeve: 98ffeb

Left down sleeve: ff94ff

Right upper sleeve: fffaa1

Right down sleeve: bad1ff

Inner hoodie fur: f9f9f9

Purple magic dark: 220941

Purple magic middle: 471b6e

Purple magic light / Shine: 7e3ab7 60% opacity for shine

Orange magic dark: f9b330

Orange magic middle: fccf5a ( like bowtie and eyeshadow )

Orange magic light / Shine: ffff87 60% opacity for shine

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andy-paleoart · 2 months

Text

Cambrian: An explosion of life | Cambriano: Uma explosão de vida

🇬🇧

During the Cambrian Period, which spanned from approximately 538 to 485 million years ago, Earth underwent a dramatic biological transformation known as the Cambrian Explosion. This epoch was characterized by an extraordinary burst of evolutionary activity, resulting in the rapid diversification of complex multicellular life forms.

Among the notable inhabitants of the Cambrian seas were trilobites, arthropods with hard exoskeletons and distinctive three-lobed bodies. Anomalocarids, another prominent group, were enigmatic arthropods that occupied the role of top predators, boasting large spiny appendages and segmented bodies. Opabinia, with its tubular body and unique proboscis, added an element of peculiarity to the Cambrian fauna. The period also saw the existence of Hallucigenia, a spiky worm-like organism that initially perplexed researchers with its unusual anatomy. Wiwaxia, a small marine creature with a slug-like appearance, contributed to the diverse array of life forms.

This period was marked by innovation and experimentation, and laid the groundwork for various body plans and anatomical structures that would shape the course of evolution. Fossil evidence from this time provides invaluable insights into the early stages of animal life and the processes that led to the rich biodiversity observed on Earth today. It also marked a significant transition in the evolution of life on Earth, particularly with the emergence and diversification of sexual reproduction. Before this period, asexual reproduction was the dominant method. However, during the Cambrian Period, there was a notable shift towards sexual reproduction, involving the fusion of specialized reproductive cells or gametes.

This shift had several advantages, including the introduction of genetic variation. Sexual reproduction led to a mixing of genetic material from two parents, fostering increased diversity among offspring. This diversity, in turn, allowed for a broader range of adaptations to the environment, promoting the evolution of more complex and specialized organisms. The adaptability provided by sexual reproduction was crucial in the dynamic and competitive ecosystems of the Cambrian Period. The variability introduced through this process facilitated a more rapid response to changing environmental conditions.

While the specifics of when and how sexual reproduction evolved during the Cambrian Period remain uncertain due to limited direct evidence in the fossil record, the widespread appearance of complex multicellular organisms during this time suggests a correlation between the emergence of sexual reproduction and the rapid diversification of life. It was a true sex revolution!

🇧🇷

Durante o Período Cambriano, que abrangeu aproximadamente de 538 a 485 milhões de anos atrás, a Terra passou por uma dramática transformação biológica conhecida como Explosão Cambriana. Essa época foi caracterizada por uma extraordinária explosão de atividade evolutiva, resultando na rápida diversificação de formas de vida multicelulares complexas.

Entre os habitantes notáveis dos mares cambrianos estavam os trilobitas, artrópodes com exoesqueletos duros e corpos distintos em três lóbulos. Os anomalocarídeos, outro grupo proeminente, eram artrópodes enigmáticos que ocupavam o papel de predadores de topo, ostentando grandes apêndices espinhosos e corpos segmentados. Opabinia, com seu corpo tubular e probóscide única, acrescentava um elemento de peculiaridade à fauna cambriana. O período também testemunhou a existência de Hallucigenia, um organismo espinhoso semelhante a uma minhoca que inicialmente desconcertou os pesquisadores com sua anatomia incomum. Wiwaxia, uma pequena criatura marinha com aparência de lesma, contribuiu para a diversidade de formas de vida.

Foi um período marcado por inovação e experimentação, que lançou as bases para diversos planos corporais e estruturas anatômicas que moldariam o curso da evolução. A evidência fóssil desse período fornece insights valiosos sobre as fases iniciais da vida animal e os processos que levaram à rica biodiversidade observada na Terra hoje. Foi marcado também por uma transição significativa na evolução da vida na Terra, especialmente com o surgimento e diversificação da reprodução sexual. Antes desse período, a reprodução assexuada era o método dominante. No entanto, durante o Período Cambriano, houve uma notável mudança em direção à reprodução sexual, envolvendo a fusão de células reprodutivas especializadas ou gametas.

Essa mudança teve várias vantagens, incluindo a introdução de variação genética. A reprodução sexual resultou na mistura de material genético de dois progenitores, promovendo maior diversidade entre a prole. Essa diversidade, por sua vez, permitiu uma gama mais ampla de adaptações ao ambiente, promovendo a evolução de organismos mais complexos e especializados. A adaptabilidade proporcionada pela reprodução sexual foi crucial nos ecossistemas dinâmicos e competitivos do Período Cambriano. A variabilidade introduzida por meio desse processo facilitou uma resposta mais rápida às mudanças nas condições ambientais.

Embora os detalhes específicos de quando e como a reprodução sexual evoluiu durante o Período Cambriano permaneçam incertos devido à escassez de evidências diretas no registro fóssil, a aparição generalizada de organismos multicelulares complexos durante esse período sugere uma correlação entre o surgimento da reprodução sexual e a rápida diversificação da vida. Foi uma verdadedeira revolução sexual!

#science #paleontology #digital painting #paleobotany #artwork #drawing #painting #universe #earth #geology #biology #cambrian #paleoart #paleozoic

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seven-circlllxs · 6 months

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Laws For The Lawless {RULES}

Read these before interacting! Please know that if I feel uncomfortable with ANY interaction, I will speak ONCE with you privately, and if the behavior persists, I will block you.

1. No romantic interactions if there isn't established chemistry! I will not force ships/relationships with immediate interaction, there has to be build up and at least SOME planning between admins before initiating a relationship! To that end, romantic partnerships that form cannot be solely for writing NSFW content. Romance and sex are not interchangeable, and it makes me very uncomfortable for a writing partner to only want to write sexual content.

2. Content Warning for several triggering subjects! I can and will tag everything that is potentially triggering, but I also will not shy away from darker subject matter! This includes, but is not limited to -

Blood, gore, canon-typical violence, body horror, supernatural horror, PTSD, self-harm, disordered eating habits, description or discussion of body augmentation, death, guns/weapons, explosives, use of torture, kidnapping/hostage situations, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy relationships, physical/mental/sexual/domestic abuse, substance abuse, parental abuse/neglect, themes of religion/religious imagery, characters with past instances of CSA, characters with mental illnesses, fantasy racism, internalized homophobia, gaslighting, mentions/discussions of grooming, victim blaming, situations of noncon/dubcon*, nonconsensual recording, sex work/prostitution, and dehumanization.

* Note - I absolutely will NOT write out explicit noncon scenarios, but they may be alluded to or referenced.

I will try my best to not only tag these triggers but also discuss triggers before writing with you, but if any of these subjects make you uncomfortable, I’d advise you not to interact!

3. In addition to the potentially triggering topics that I feel comfortable writing with, there are a few topics that are very triggering to me, and should be avoided at all times. Use of these topics will result in an INSTANT BLOCK.

Discussion of parent death

Graphic/detailed depictions of hospital settings (unless previously discussed and deemed plot relevant BEFORE your reply is posted)

Use of inaccurate medical terms with regards to mental illnesses (especially the “scary” ones that people frequently misunderstand)

4. Don’t rush replies, please! I have anxiety and my writing spoons fluctuate all the time. Even if we are discussing the RP in DMs and plotting the story, I might not have the ability to put those story beats down into words that I’m proud to post. I write for fun, and it becomes immediately not fun if I’m being pressured into fast responses.

5. If you want to use an OC to RP, please tell me about them! Ideally, I would like an image of your character/their face claim and a written bio (any length is fine, can be a few sentences or a few paragraphs!), as well as their dynamic/relation to my character.

Note: Next-Gen characters or characters that are family to any of my characters need to be discussed before writing can begin to see if I can comfortably adapt to their existence!

6. My characters most likely will have some canon divergence. I will update my Headcanon Lists to make sure that all character information is up to date and accurate as more source content is released and (occasionally) reframed.

7. NO MINORS, PLEASE. I have nothing against minors using rp to develop their writing skills. Hell, that’s how I developed my writing skills when I was younger. However, this is an 18+ blog which will contain various types of adult content. RPing with minors in ANY context makes me uncomfortable, and I will confirm your age BEFORE starting to write with you. If I follow you and you are a minor, please tell me so that I may unfollow.

8. No IRL issues brought into RP, please! I use writing as a coping mechanism to escape from the harsher realities of the world right now. I do not want to talk real world politics, and I will not tolerate hate speech of any kind here.

9. I am not someone who has Exclusives! I'm happy to write with duplicates and if you do not want my muses interacting with doubles of yours please tell me via DMs; I will be more than happy to figure something out with you!

10. If you’ve read and accept these rules, please say Glowstick Juice in the notes or shoot me a DM!

#Whispers from Purgatory [OOC]#Ashes to Ashes [Ashy Speaks]#I Think I’m Supposed To Be Bodyguarded Right Now [Rules]

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wolfoftheblackflames · 2 months

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Hi guys, thanks so much for the reblogs and likes on my fanfics! Here's my own Sinner Oc her name is Kerryn and this is her backstory. Enjoy!

She's a sinner with the potential to become an overlord, who died via a huge explosion she caused taking vengeance on some big wig assholes who tortured her little brother for fun, and burned the house she lived in with her mother still inside. She showed remorse for her actions choosing to die in said explosion when she saw innocents getting killed in the crossfire chaos.

Kerryn is supposed to resemble a dragon which in most terms is wrath and chaos, but has big wings much like a valkyrie due to her killing out of vengeance. Her main power includes explosive magic which can cause massive damage if unchecked.

Kerryn when alive used to live in Chicago with her parents and little brother Brom, but an accident occurred forcing the family to flee to Moose Jaw. This accident involved her father Jaeger when he brutalized a woman in the woods and fed his dark primal cannibal urges. He would often beat Kerryn's kind hearted mother Johanna, however when he found Kerryn trying to stop him, he went after the children, Kerryn stepped up to protect her family and stabbed her father in the chest, her eyes losing their innocent shine as this was the beginning of her damning her soul at the age of seven.

Finally free from his abuse the family fled to Moose Jaw, living in a small run down home for awhile, with Johanna recovering and the family starving, Kerryn used her small yet speedy body to steal food from places plus money from people to pay the rent. Her mother, unable to work due to injury, became a sex worker, prowling among the streets if it meant her children were fed. Kerryn snuck into her local junkyard to train since she had to protect her mother and little brother now, becoming a fast and hard hitting street fighter as a result.

Kerryn, now seventeen and ready to fight with her five foot seven frame, managed to take down guys that were bigger than her when they tried to start shit. She had no warmth in her eyes. They had become colder and dull with each fight, which she left her attackers begging for mercy at the end of it. Kerryn held no interest in love or sex for anyone, her human skin pale but often coated with grime, her brown hair short to keep others from pulling it in a fight, and her clothes almost ragged with a rotten old shirt and pants to keep her warm. Her soft, innocent brown eyes had become stern and fierce with several scars littering her lean built frame.

She was known as “The Dragon” or “Draco” for her fierce prowess as she was often mistaken for a man due to how she always kept her soft sounding voice quiet.

However, a fateful encounter turned her living hell into somewhat bearable. Kerryn was out with her mask on ready to steal to help her family, she managed to sneak into one of her targets homes, a big wig man named Mortes, what she didn't expect however was that the man had a daughter her age. At first, Kerryn crept around while the guards patrolled the halls, keeping hidden and quiet, until she ducked into a room that had the daughter inside. The girl was afraid as one of the guards was attempting to assault her. Kerryn then stabbed the man’s neck, ending his life with a quick jab and carefully tossing his corpse out the window.

Brown cold eyes met innocent, scared greenish blue. At first, the daughter was afraid but then realized Kerryn did it to save her, causing her small shaking frame to calm down a little. Reminded of her little brother, Kerryn softens and goes over only to lightly pet the other teen on the head and whisper comforting words to the other girl.

It was because of that event Kerryn had for the first time a friend to call her own, slowly becoming softer and kind. The daughter she later learned was named Hazel and had been sickly her entire life. The two bonded in the small room with Hazel bringing some of that innocence back to the cold emptiness that had become Kerryn's heart as it had been trying to come out more around her family, her treasure.

Hazel had started to become a part of the treasure hoard as Kerryn kept coming back to her, The Dragon had finally found peace in those slender arms, and a warm gaze with her own warmth bursting out like an explosion. Awkward yet brave, Kerryn told Hazel about this strange new feeling burning inside and that she liked it only for the smaller five foot teen to reply she felt the same way and gave her a soft peck to the cheek.

It was later Hazel realized she was damned. She was having feelings for another woman, straying far from her Father's Christian teachings. Kerryn tried to comfort her but was caught by Mortes, who looked furious. It became a scuffle as the older man tried to rip the two apart, however when Kerryn was beaten down, Hazel shook and tried to stop her father only to make the man slip out the window and impale himself on the fence spike below.

Hazel froze and started to shake. Kerryn, despite having a bloody nose, rushed over and held Hazel close. “You can't stay here… You have to go.” Those words rang in Kerryn's head, but the other girl replied with a soft pleading. “Come with me then.”

Hazel sobbed but winced her chest, hurting again. “I can't. Otherwise, I would.” Her voice was strained as she looked around for her medicine but stopped. “Please let me just lay here with you. That's all I want.”

That night, Kerryn watched her first ever love kill and then be punished for it, falling into death's embrace. She knew Hazel had a weak heart, but once footsteps were heard and Kerryn was found, her back turned to the man that was Hazel's Uncle. She left behind the body she wished she could've taken with her.

This spurred the brother of Mortes, Francis to hunt Kerryn down, taking glee in making her suffer, first with the fire that killed the mother, and then second with an explosion that killed the little brother. Kerryn broke and stormed the place, littering it with explosives, her heart torn in pieces, her mind rushing with wrath and pride. Pride to be the one to take down her family's killer and wrath because of the vengeance she brought down.

#hazbin hotel #oc #original character #sinner oc #my art #sketch #dragon oc #hazbin helluva universe

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topgunreacts · 10 months

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Ok in MtH you wrote such a complex and compelling argument for Mav as an omega that i’m kinda stuck from seeing it the other way 😭 Could you kinda explain why Ice works as an omega in your ABO-verse? I think his canon persona is so much more alpha but I could kinda see how he’s omega it just wouldn’t be my first thought & Id love for you to ramble about it a bit

A great question! I think these two facts (pertaining to MY version of omegaverse) are what will help you most to shift perspective:

First: Pheromone types are sexes. Not genders. In the real world, sexes (of which there are many—hello intersex people! You are in my omegaverse too!) are intertwined with gender in a number of ways, some more biologically driven and others more socially driven. But only a biological essentialist would say that all gender expression is innately tied to sex. When people say things like this: of course he kept badgering you for sex; men just want sex all the time; they can’t help it! When yes, in fact, cis men can control their sexual urges—that’s bioessentialist. Being a man does not mean dude is somehow less in control of his sexual urges. That has nothing to do with whatever is going on in his hormones or chromosomes. That behavior occurs as a result of social reinforcement, gender bias, and sexism. So in my omegaverse, saying that someone with Ice’s traits (stoic, confident, assertive, in control, unflappable) must be alpha is playing into Real World (and in-universe!) stereotypes of conditioned alpha male behavior. Just as biological sex IRL is not a binary set of gender experiences, biological sex in my omegaverse is not a set of six genders, where all the confident assertive men are alphas and the more emotional, ‘softer’ men are omegas.

Second: Heat/rut cycles do impact behavior innately. But not everyone experiences the same impacts in the same ways. As I said in my other lore post, heats and ruts serve community survival purposes. A male omega heat says: protect group, exploit resources, achieve goals. And what that actually looks like is different for every single male. Ice’s heat looks like his inborn personality traits being fine tuned into biological weapons: he becomes more observant, more assertive, more precise, more patient (when he’s stable). Maverick’s heat by comparison was all about explosive energy, risk, unorthodox maneuvering, and aggression. Someone else’s might look like sneaking around or manipulating people emotionally. It’s them dialed up to eleven.

Another thing you might find interesting about this story that’s very different from MtH is the fact that in this new timeline, the Male Omega Combat Revelation has already come to pass. MtH has Maverick kicking off the military’s “discovery” (in the modern, Western dominated era) that male omegas experience battle trances when they’re in heat—skills that could be refined and trained. Maverick in MtH is on the cutting edge of his sex’s newfound rise to power. Iceman in Principles of Aviation, conversely, was born into a world where the Revelation happened at Pearl Harbor during the Japanese bombing. Since then, decades of research and billions of taxpayer dollars have gone into refining the art of male omega battle trances. Consequently, there is HUGE pressure on Ice to conform and perform to perfection. After all, the military practically has it down to a science—they even run blood tests on all pilots to uncover potential matches that are especially biologically compatible! What could go wrong?

Omega Maverick: stuck in a world where no one believes he can accomplish anything worthwhile, devalued, oppressed, but lots of room for creativity and innovation once shit does pop off

Omega Iceman: stuck in a world of impossibly high expectations, pressured to be the best at all times, expected to thrive in a government assigned Formula for Success, no room for going off script

They’re fighting against/working with themes and plot points that play to their strengths as characters. Maverick had to dig beneath the bottom of the barrel before anyone so much as noticed him. Ice is constantly scrutinized and then criticized because he’s gone through several failed matches without the perfect success and martial prowess that is automatically expected of him.

#ask #writing #omegaverse #male omega iceman #this is such a condensation of the gender and sex convo btw #but we can’t be here all day and night going over particulars #queer friendly omegaverse

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llyncooljones · 2 years

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messy - rowaelin month day thirteen.

ao3 || masterlist || rowaelin month ‘22 masterlist

prompt: CANON WEEK: a post-canon scene

word count: 1003

trigger warnings: language.

tag list: @rowaelinscourt @live-the-fangirl-life @rowaelinismyotp @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @elentiyawhitethorn @rowanaelinn @autumnbabylon @leiawritesstories @backtobl4ck

the royal kitchens, early morning.

It was not very often that Aelin used the kitchens. In fact, as she cycled back through the years, she really could not think of the last time she had used them.

And that told a story. Because the only reason Aelin had something in her castle, her royal residence, and yet did not use it, was because she was banned. Forbidden. Not permitted. She would much rather leave the cooking and baking and general food making to those who could actually cook, bake, or make food.

Aelin fell into zero of those categories. None of them.

She knew how to cook whatever they had found in the woods over a fire, on a spit. And she knew how to tell if little plants were going to kill her or not. She could do all of that—all the necessary stuff, all the stuff she would have died as a result of not knowing.

She just didn’t quite understand everything.

She could bake a cake, a chocolate hazelnut cake at that, but that was all she could do.

And she had messed up previously, so much so that she had been banned from her very own, her royal fucking kitchens. She couldn’t decide whether to be humiliated by the fact or resign herself to: accepting it to be the best thing to do.

Which it was.

Explosions in the kitchen are never helpful and are not Aelin’s fault.

All in all, that meant that Aelin should not have been in the kitchens, should definitely not have been in the kitchens alone, with no one to help her, and no specific, six-foot-four man who was the only person capable of staunching her fires when they got out of control.

So, when Aelin thought about it, it was a bad idea. It was probably the worst one she had had in a while. Usually, Rowan Whitehorn could read her mind about things like this, and prevent them from ever happening.

But he hadn’t. Which was not how it was supposed to go. That was exactly the wrong thing. He was supposed to read her mind, stop her from doing this, and then go make breakfast for the both of them—without burning down the entire castle, and without ever catching on to her genius plan.

And now Aelin was stood in her royal kitchens, the chefs she had hired with dessert in mind, due to arrive in less than an hour, surrounded by dark grey smoke, the smell of burning, and breakfast in ruins.

It was some important date in their relationship—she forgot which one, seeing as there were so many, seeing that Rowan was the only one to keep track of them—and she had decided to do something perfect, personal, and homemade for it. She had skipped the idea of special-occasion sex, which was great. It was, truly. But it had lost a little of its shine recently, and Aelin was not having her Buzzard anything but glowing pleasantly on whichever day this was.

So, she had schemed and planned and decided she would cook for her husband. She decided that a meal cooked by his shit-cook wife would put a smile on his face, whether it was her best yet, or whether it induced his gag reflex.

Smoke was slowly exiting through the window Aelin had opened, and she was dousing the flaming pans with water, hoping to cool everything down enough that she would be able to put everything away, clean and dry and seemingly untouched by Aelin’s inexperienced hands. But it was all taking a little too long, and her timing was becoming very close.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here, Aelin? Yet another failure in the kitchens?” her husband should be forced to wear a bell around his neck. A big one, weighted and fixed in such a manner he would never be able to remove it—because he could not keep sneaking up on her like that, it was going to give her a heart condition.

“No,” she replied sullenly, refusing to turn around and face her husband. Face ultimate defeat in the form of his smirking face, his smug eyebrows, and the little flicks of his fingers that were sending smoke on its very merry way out of their castle.

“No? because it looks like one,”

“Hey! You can’t talk to me like that, I’m the Queen. I’m your Queen, in fact, and you are my blood sworn. From now on, you cannot speak to me like that, I declare it!” her pout was strong and defined, even as she stared intently at the pan in the sink, water slowly dripping onto it.

“I can too, as the Prince Consort. Or as the King (as we shall shortly be changing it to, after updating these incredibly outdated laws). Both give me the right.”

“And yet, I am still the queen, and I still demand you stop talking to me like that,” her tone was indignant, and her voice was muffled as she bent over to place a washed-and-dried pan in the cupboard. She felt Rowan’s eyes trace the curve of her behind, and gave him no indication she had noticed, not until she was muttering under her breath, “Sod a nice breakfast, have a butt shake for a present.”

“I can, and I will. Due to the fact that I am here, stood in this kitchen with you, who absolutely cannot cook and yet tried to, it qualifies me to call you an absolute idiot for what you’ve done.” His act of fake superiority has her blushing, whilst resisting the urge to grab him by the shirt and shake him. Not that she would even get him off the ground.

But even as he made fun, and even when he laughed at her and the mess she had made, even when he pushed every last bit of smoke out of the castle, she knew he wouldn’t change a thing.

#rowaelinscourt #rowaelin month 2022 #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #tog #rowaelin #my fic #throne of glass #tog fic #my writing #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #llyncooljones' writing

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spook-study · 8 months

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Humanoids from the Deep [a.k.a "Monster"] (1980) starts with every content warning you can possibly have in a movie. Don't bother checking Does the Dog Die, because if you are someone who needs to check, this movie isn't for you. Humanoids from the Deep explodes onto your screen, starting with the killing of a child, resulting in an ungodly amount of blood in the water, and the subsequent explosion of the boat he was on, taking his raving, sobbing father who just watched his son die down to the depths with him. Not to mention a few deckhands for good measure. Following this up we have the visible death of a dog, followed by a shot of his mutilated corpse, then being shown the corpses of at the other fishermen's dogs sprawled all over the dock and their boats. Top off that rapid succession with casual racism, using a slur for Native Americans that some may not have even heard, and there's little room for doubt about what kind of movie you're about to witness.

If you even make it that far.

The movie isn't one for resting, however. The classic call of teenagers having sex on the beach is one heard loud and clear by the titular creatures. Just because they're kept mostly hidden, as is the usual case when it comes to lower budgeted horror, doesn't mean you don't see exactly what happens between the proverbial sheets. The filming leaves no room for questioning: a young woman gets abducted and sexually assaulted by a monster, so clear you can count the thrusts. Humanoids from the Deep straddles the hard line of 80s schlock and full exploitation, and it's swaying from side to side drunk on its own craziness. Depending on the night, or the person, it could very easily fall to either side.

While we don't get a nice clear view of the monsters upon their first introduction, where would the fun in that be, that doesn't mean we don't get a good look. A lot of B-Horror is embarrassed by their creature effects, latex prosthetics and masks mushed with paint and goo in an attempt to make the monsters look scary. If you're lucky, you'll get some tentacles waving around by fishing line. But the full body suits of Humanoids are pretty gross and definitely gross enough for the crux of their existence. It's a nice change of pace to see a monster that actually looks good enough to do what it does. Not great, but definitely good enough.

Not only that, the movie swings hard with gore effects. Blood and guts abound in Humanoids, so if that's your bread and butter, you'll have plenty at the table. It's definitely a pleasure when a lower-budget movie puts the money into grossness. A lot of modern horror has a strange sense of dryness to it- even the blood looks clean. But fish monsters at a fishing town with a fair going on? All the juicy goodness you could be looking for is right here waiting for you.

When it gets down to the movie itself, Humanoids fully places itself in the film oeuvre of the sexy female scientist with Dr. Susan Drake. Stunningly beautiful and stunningly frazzled, intelligence and dogged pursuit of the truth is all of a sudden incredibly hot. Yet, unlike her contemporaries, Dr. Susan ends up being appropriately dressed, for the most part. She wears full outfits that are quite modest for a movie in which its very premise is monsters attacking and sexually assaulting women. When she explores, trying to find the answer to this hormonally mutated mystery, they have her in a full yellow fisherman's garb and boots tromping around in the water and mud.

And tromp around she does, much to the chagrin of the newly implanted cannery she's working for. That's right! She's working for the very company, cleverly named "Canco," that's the direct cause of the monsters. Far too literal to be ignored, the movie starts off with one of the leading men stating the cannery will ruin the town, and he certainly isn't wrong. Going against the grain for company-employed scientists in horror, scientific integrity becomes the sexiest thing that Dr. Susan brings to the table. She doesn't care who did what, her employer or otherwise, she wants to solve the problem because of the ecological implications of crazy fish men running around raping unsuspecting teens who all seem to think the beach is the place to be when it comes to sex.

The scene surrounding the second couple of teens is one of the craziest seductions ever put to film. The young man seduces a lovely young lady with his ventriloquist dummy.

It works. It just. It works?

Well, works up to the point of those good monsters showing up and crashing the party. And they're not the only ones who fall victim to these crazy fish. While the monsters collect ladies they impregnate (if they even survive the initial attack) that doesn't mean they don't kill indiscriminately. And there will be blood- galore. Spraying, shooting, tearing, ripping, bashing, spurting, flinging, flying, you name it. It's gushy and wet and and it all looks so damn good. And the Humanoids certainly do not care who is subject to their wild ways. Brothers, boyfriends, friends, women, children: if it breathes, the Humanoids are coming.

While the plot may be thin, how much do you truly need when walking full tilt into a movie called Humanoids from the Deep? Hormonally enlarged salmon being eaten by some other big fish out in the sea and those fish turning into air-breathing bipedal sex maniacs in no time flat? Why not. And, despite all the sleuthing and mystery-solving and heavy handed dialogue about the displacement of indigenous populations and destruction of small town America, the climax at the annual festival is definitely full of climaxes. Some brain-bashing and gasoline later, what we know of the Humanoids have been defeated. Toss in a classic horror end-of-movie stinger and the movie wraps.

So what does a movie like Humanoids from the Deep have to offer? This is the kind of movie your mother would tut-tut at, or yank from VHS and send you to your room with a harsh word, and maybe that's all that it is. Humanoids feels secret, subversive. As horror comes more and more into the light of public acceptance, so too have harsher and harsher low-budget horror movies touting "Old-School" appeal. It's movies like Humanoids they're referring, but what people tend to forget is that there's always more. There's an evil corporation, there's people fighting to help, there's fear and there's pain and there's dread. More than hack-and-slash gore effect after gore effect without anything else going on, Humanoids from the Deep keeps its silly little plot clipping right along for all 80 of those minutes.

It seems there's some disconnect with what "Old-School" horror was and did. Modern day effects and society means things you could never have shown when Humanoids came out is now being called "Old-School." Humanoids is shocking not only because of what it presented, but because of what it couldn't present. Imagination is the strongest producer of fear, after all. When the limits are pushed and pushed and broken completely, there's nothing left of the original dark-alley appeal that made these movies so cool. There are some things in Humanoids that might have you shocked even today, and that's staying power. Will we be able to say the same for the shock violence being put to film today? Will we be able to see a monster riding a carousel filmed in 2023?

Humanoids from the Deep is a perfect example of what all those middle-aged men call old-school horror, but don't let that deter you. Ignore the film bros and holier-than-thous and, if you have the stomach for it, give Humanoids from the Deep a try for yourself. Be grossed out, laugh, have fun, because that's what movies like this are for. They're for late-night slumber parties with your friends and midnight screenings in the woods at night. Watch it while you're camping or while your out on a boat. Watch it with all the atmosphere you can and remember how fun fear can be.

Sure, it may not reinvent the wheel, but this collection of creature and gore effects, a sexy female scientist, a rugged Native-American hero, a bunch of racists getting what-for and a bunch of innocent women being attacked is certainly a prime example of everything horror was and everything horror can be.

From well-known schlock producer of the best gutter trash Roger Corman, it certainly won't be everyone's cup of tea. Still, Humanoids from the Deep (1980) gets a fond 3/5.

Go ahead. Live a little.

#humanoids from the deep #1980 #horror #movies #film #spook study #review #my writing #long posts about horror #movie review #3/5 #put me on a list or whatever but I had such fun the first time I watched it. And sort of every time since #gif #gore

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nothingtolosebutweight · 2 years

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Heaven's just a Sin away

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An embarrassingly long time ago @heavenlymorals put this request in my DMs and here we are. In the end, I am somewhat satisfied with the result, even though it is quite rudimentary due to my lack of knowledge about religions. It's not quite what you wished for, but it's something 😋

I loved their religious discussions so much in the show and maybe you can write one of your own? Like Ivar and Heahmund discussing their respective afterlives or why they celebrate their faith as they do (communions, sacrifice, etc...). I think it's worth a shot, so if you take my request, I hope you have fun.

| Paring: Ivar the Boneless x Bishop Heahmund | Words: ~5700 [AO3] | Warnings: Angst, Hurt, Scars, Mention of self-inflicted injuries, Intimacy between two men, Blasphemy, Cheesiness | Summary: Driven by his affection for Ivar, Heahmund repeatedly plunges head over heels into the sea of sins, only to drown in his feelings of guilt immediately afterward, asking God for forgiveness for his actions. His inner conflict is also reflected in his battered appearance. A circumstance that doesn't please the young prince at all. | Credits: @underragingwaves made this wonderful Gif of Ivar. Thanks for letting me use it ♥♥

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The coolness of the night had settled over them, robbing their previously glowing bodies of the heat that had formed between them. Like two firestones, they had rubbed against each other, creating sparks that danced together in the heated air until they merged and burned up in a passionate explosion.

Silence has invaded the room, which not long ago was filled with pleasurable sounds, sinful moans, and whispers of tender words. Heartbeats were slowing down. Bodies that were tightly embraced were now separated, leaving a void.

A shiver ran over Ivar's naked body, leaving a delicate trail of goosebumps. Drowsily, he groped for the end of his thick blanket made of different kinds of furs and pulled it over his lower body to prevent further chilling. A glance to the left, at the naked back that presented itself to him, made his eyes well up with longing.

Ivar wouldn't say it out loud even under threat of the worst kind of torture, but he longed to be held. Especially now, right after sex. After he had made himself so vulnerable by letting another man dominate him, enjoying every second of it. He longed for loving touches, for reassurance.

The cold of the approaching winter was easy to bear. The young prince had enough furs to protect himself against the freezing temperatures that would soon hit Kattegat. But the cold that now prevailed in the room, and which had its origin in the man lying next to him, crept deeper into his bones. This one caused a shiver that left no pleasant feeling, no rising desire, but an uncomfortable squeeze around his heart.

Ivar should have gotten used to it by now, for it was always the same spectacle.

Only moments ago, he could have sworn that Heahmund was the embodied fire giant Surt. At home in regions of immense heat and fire, which was evident in the eager, impetuous touches that traveled all over Ivar's body, leaving a trail of burning skin wherever they went. Heahmund's hands seemed to be everywhere at once, possessive yet gentle, always careful not to inflict pain that wouldn't subsequently turn into pleasure.

Where his hands were not, Ivar felt hot lips feasting on his body, kissing, nibbling, biting. It made him tremble and moan loudly until his mouth was sealed and a heated tongue invaded him, robbing him of the air he needed to breathe. All of this happened while the giant's burning and pulsating sword penetrated deep into him, piercing not only deeper and deeper into his body, but also into his soul.

The transition from blazing flames to freezing cold was always rapid. As soon as his bishop crashed down from the peak of his high, spurting his seed deep inside him with his voice cracking and his breath brushing hotly against the hollow of his neck, he turned into a frost giant. It was as if all the embers in him had faded into nothingness. As if discharging his sword had triggered his personal Ragnarok, leaving Heahmund burned out and unable to summon even the tiniest spark of emotion.

Each time anew his perfect warrior fought his own battle after they shared their desire. Perhaps the hardest of his life. He turned away, unable to look at him any longer, as if they hadn't just clung to each other like two drowning men, being swayed by the endless waves of their lust.

Ivar hadn't yet given up hope that Heahmund would one day be able to break this cycle, but with this weakness he also allowed himself to be hurt again and again by the other man's rejection.

With a sigh that had risen deep from the core of his being, Ivar turned on his side, facing Heahmund's back. He moved a little closer to the body he admired so much and in whose warmth and scent he wanted to linger a little longer. The almost perfectly round moon was enough of a light source for the prince to see the fine muscles which stretched across the pale skin of his favorite Englishman.

What was equally emphasized by the bright glow were the numerous scars that stretched across Heahmund's back and upper arms. Some were still accented by a contrasting dark red crust, others were only visible through the shadows cast by the thicker healed skin, while others were already barely visible. Either they had not been deep enough to do much damage, or they had already faded over time, like memories that had sunk into the emptiness. No longer accessible.

Nevertheless, Ivar could still see those scars in his mind's eye. He still knew exactly where they had been. Too often he had traced them with his fingertips, his lips, or his tongue to be able to forget them. All the imperfections had burned themselves deeply into his memory. For him, they were like a map on which reminders were marked like treasures. Only that they were anything but jewels or gems.

Ivar knew where most of the scars originated from. They were not inflicted on Heahmund during battle. Scars won in glorious combats testified to strength, to being victorious. Ivar himself was proud of the few he had acquired in that way, but the ones that covered his legs in great numbers, he despised. For those, he was rather ashamed. They were nothing more than testimonies to his limitations, nothing that filled him with pride.

The same goes for the scars on Heahmund's back. They didn't testify to glory either, even if they were evidence of a battle. One that took place inside the bishop's mind and soul and one that seemingly was impossible to win. This was the reason why Ivar didn't find them as attractive as all the other scars that had been inflicted on the body before him. In his eyes, they were a hurtful reminder that Heahmund would probably never be fully committed to him. The thought that what they shared was wrong, would not leave his mind anytime soon.

Heahmund’is devotion to his chosen God was too strong for that. So was the burden of sin that the Christian tried to drain out of himself with these self-inflicted wounds. Not only had he given himself over to carnal desires, which in itself was an act against God. No, he had done it with another man, and on top of that, he had enjoyed it. That was obvious, considering the sounds of pleasure that Heahmund had not been able to hold back.

For Ivar, there was nothing that felt more right than to let himself be swept away underneath his English warrior, to surrender to him in complete bliss. That is why it pained the young Viking when he discovered fresh wounds, as he did now. It felt as if the injury had been added to his own body. His heart became heavy because he knew that the tearing of the skin was a sign that Heahmund's innermost being was also torn. Moreover, he was pretty certain that new wounds would be added by tomorrow evening as well. In this regard, Heahmund was predictable.

Giving in to his inner urge for closeness, Ivar let his fingertips dance feather-light over the battered skin. Carefully, he brushed over the marks, earning a humming and a breathy "Don't." as a signal that Heahmund didn't want to be touched at the moment. At least not by him.

Ivar didn't let that stop him. He would just take what he needed today. That was his right. After all, he was a prince and ruled over a large territory. He owned everything from the coast in the north to the mountains in the west, the fertile fields in the south, and the forests in the east. Having the simplest of his desires taken from him, in his own bed chamber, was out of the question today.

Therefore, Ivar did not retreat, but rather moved a bit closer to Heahmund out of sheer defiance. Sleepily closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against the bishop’s shoulder, inhaling deeply. The still-warm skin beneath him exuded the seductive scent of sweet desire that resulted from their recent union. On his lips, which were slightly swollen from all the kisses they had shared before, the prince perceived a faint salty taste. He let his tongue slide out to taste more of it, brushing Heahmund's shoulder while doing so. Prompted by the gossamer touch, he opened his lips wider and kissed the spot with his mouth open.

A hushed whisper broke the silence in the room. Ivar didn't understand the words exactly. They were pronounced too vaguely and in a language that he didn't fully grasp yet. But he had no need to comprehend their meaning to know that Heahmund was speaking to his god.

Tender kisses met old scars and new wounds, causing their bearer to tremble as if they were being inflicted anew at that very moment. Heahmund's prayer became louder, his plea to God more insistent.

"Deliver me, O Lord. Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sins are covered. In the glory of daylight, your hand was heavy upon me, guiding me in my righteous path, but by night the devil persuaded me... again. Therefore, I ask you to wash me clean of my guilt. Purify me from my sin."

The words could now be heard more clearly and even though the meaning and the words themselves were foreign to Ivar, he managed to understand fragments. Heahmund was always babbling something about sin, about the devil he accused him to be. In the end, he just needed a scapegoat to explain to himself why he went to Ivar's bed chamber every night when he knew better and, more importantly, intended to do better. An excuse was needed to answer tantalizing questions. Why he couldn't resist the temptation. Why he had to touch him, kiss him, conquer him in the most gentle way. They united driven by love and the need for closeness that went beyond the normally achievable. They wanted to become one, to let their own beings collapse in order to merge into each other, but this simple explanation was not sufficient for Heahmund to explain and accept his sinfulness.

For the former bishop, it had to be some evil doing that made him weak in his knees. Ivar assumed that this belief was easier for him to bear than the truth. To admit to himself that everything he had believed in up to now, everything he had based his life on, everything he had wanted to die for, suddenly no longer made sense, would rob him of his identity.

Ivar saw this dilemma. He understood it and therefore often kept silent. Said nothing to the multiplying scars and the dismissive attitude of his beloved. For the sake of Heahmund's remaining peace of mind. He didn't want to see him broken, but he also didn't want to let himself be broken by the fact that what was so important to him was devalued as abhorrent by the very man with whom he shared everything he held dear.

Today, however, he couldn't remain silent. His own chest hurt too much.

Just a few minutes ago, he had felt as if he were being carried into the sky by Valkyries. The impact on the ground of reality afterward was too agonizing for him to hold back the scream that rose from his innermost being.

Propped up on his forearm, Ivar leaned over the still praying man, looking down at him, taking in the view of Heahmund’s bewildered expression. Unable to bear the sight for long, Ivar nestled nose-first back into Heahmund's still slightly sweaty neck, running his fingers through the jet-black hair. He felt the dampness against his skin, saw some strands glistening in the moonlight. All this made him think back to the powerful and yet prudent movements with which his strong warrior had driven him out of his mind, had driven him into the arms of the Valkyries. Heahmund had let himself be guided by his passion, had given in to his heated lust, only to regret it all within the blink of an eye. Ivar could not understand it.

"Don't," Heahmund whispered anew. This time with more emphasis, interrupting his prayer or, as Ivar saw it, his whining.

With a jerk, Ivar's right hand grabbed part of the short hair he had lovingly tousled through earlier. Heahmund's head was jerked and he was forced to look at the young Viking.

"Don't whine to other pathetic gods while you're lying in my bed still smelling of the deification you bestowed upon me just moments ago." Despite the taunt in his statement, his voice was gentle, not mocking. Ivar ran his lips over Heahmund's ear, encircling the earlobe. "And rightly so," he breathily hushed. "I am the only God you should pray to... and fortunately for you, I am a merciful one, too."

Heahmund had no sense of humor. At least not when it came to gods. This was evident in the grim expression with which he let the caresses wash over him, listening to the words that for him were the purest form of blasphemy.

"There is only one God and it is certainly not you," he forced out between his otherwise compressed lips.

"I am one," Ivar said out of conviction. "I am a descendant of Odin, the All-Father, and I would be a much more righteous god. One who would appreciate the bloodlust and temperament of true warriors, who would not put them in senseless chains and rob them of their true nature. I would consider it a tribute when people indulge in their carnal desires in my name. I would bless them for it. Only those who do not follow their urges would sin." Ivar put a finger to Heahmund's lips when he saw he was about to speak. To his surprise, this actually made the Englishman hold his words further, even though they were surely already on Heahmund's tongue, ready to be blurted out. It was obvious from the Christian's tense posture that what was said upset him, that he had the internal impulse to argue against it.

"Doesn't that sound like a God that would fit you so much better, my love?"

A barely perceptible shake of the head was the first reaction that Ivar interpreted as a response. Because he still held Heahmund by the hair, the warrior could not vehemently deny by this gesture. The prince loosened his grip and also withdrew his finger, but not without once again tracing the contours of Heahmund's lips, wishing he could still his thirst by touching them again with his. They were so seductively close, but Ivar knew that just now was not the right moment.

"It sounds merely like the delusional beliefs of a deluded boy who has spent his life so far under the influence of false gods. Who has lacked the light of God as a guide. It just sounds like a lazy excuse not to follow the right path to make things easy for oneself. Christ already is a merciful god. He forgives, knows about people's mistakes. He allows them to develop their potential, to realize the truth in their hearts," Heahmund spoke, while turning his head to the side to look at the boy behind him. "But I am not surprised that you, the devil, speak so lightly about such things, that you try to seduce me further with such simple words."

Ivar backed away a little, allowing Heahmund to turn toward him a bit more. He saw this as a small victory, that the bishop was willing to look at him again, making eye contact and thus establishing a connection between them, which until just now had been withdrawn from him.

"Ahh~ right, I'm the devil. You remind me so often and yet I keep forgetting." Ivar laughed softly after his words, finding Heahmund's accusation ridiculous as always. "Aren't you sinning again by telling lies?"

Heahmund narrowed his eyes, looking angrily at Ivar. This sight sent a shiver down the young prince's spine. He loved it when his lover took on those animalistic features. It testified to his inner fire.

"I'm not telling any lies." Heahmund looked directly into Ivar's eyes. Longer than necessary, and longer than it was good for him. He seemed to search for some kind of knowledge in them, a missing piece he longed to obtain.

He didn't have to say it for Ivar to understand what made him pause in wonder. The boy felt it in his joints, in the stiffness of his leg muscles. It was not a particularly bad day. The pain was tolerable, but significantly more intense than on good ones. The whites of his eyes were certainly a touch more bluish as a result. Ivar could only imagine that this often-occurring discoloration contributed to his Bishop's conviction that he was an inhuman being pretending to be something he was not. His current stare spoke of this.

"The devil always comes in disguise," Heahmund lowered his voice as if his next words were meant only for him, "Usually as the most beautiful creature to make it almost impossible to withdraw from his claws. In this way, he lures mankind into perdition, me into damnation." Although he had previously avoided contact with Ivar at all costs, Heahmund now laid a hand on his prince's cheek, as he could no longer resist touching him.

Carefully, he stroked his thumb over the prominent cheekbone, stopped at the hairline, and brushed back, only to start closer under the eye the next time, tracing its contour just as gently. The tender gesture made Ivar close his eyes, a sweet smile on his lips.

For Heahmund, it was as if he was under a spell as soon as he looked at Ivar. He considered himself a strong-willed person, but in this one area, all the prayers, drills, and all the punishments that followed did not help him to get better or wiser. Again and again, the magic emanating from the boy in front of him caught up with him. Proved to him repeatedly what a fool he was.

At first, he didn't really listen to the snippets of conversation he picked up here and there. He was not interested in how the villagers talked about Ivar's mother, the former queen. But at the latest when he understood the meaning of the word Vǫlva, his interest in learning more about it had increased. Apparently, she was said to be a witch, and it was rumored that she had enchanted the famous Ragnar Lothbrok to be by his side and shine in his glory. Heahmund had no doubt that this gift must have been passed on to Ivar. His weakness to resist him; his desire to be near him; touch him; elicit sweet sounds from him simply had to be because of that. He could not allow himself any other explanations. He preferred to rest his tortured mind in the flimsy stories of the common people.

Their conversation quieted for a moment, silence enveloping them in a smooth cloak. Ivar felt the questioning looks on him, but he didn't let them bother him. In his mind, Heahmund's last words still echoed in his head. They embarrassed him, but touched him just as deeply. He had never thought himself beautiful, nor had others ever made him feel that he was special to them - except for his mother, so the fact that his favorite person saw it that way made his heart skip a beat.

Only a heavy sigh made him open his eyes again. As soon as his eyelids opened, Ivar was confronted with bright, silvery eyes that still looked at him critically, yet so full of emotions. Ivar became aware that Heahmund was still trying to make sense of his situation. That he was still trying to tell himself lies that would explain his actions. His bishop needed a culprit, and something supernatural like the devil seemed to serve him just fine.

"You long for the blessing of your God, chasing after false ideals which you blindly follow. But what you don't see is that you don't even need that blessing anymore." Ivar brought his hand to rest on Heahmund's, which still lingered on his cheek, and squeezed it lightly. "You are already blessed by my love. What more do you need, huh?"

Gasping aloud in indignation that Ivar had once again dared to belittle his faith and depict himself as a god, Heahmund withdrew his hand from under the prince's and turned back onto his back in a hasty movement. His gaze slid up to the ceiling and focused there on the fine irregularities created by the use of thatch and turf. "You don't know what you're talking about at all. Blessed...as if you would know what that even means. Just listening to such nonsensical, ridiculing words is tantamount to a sin."

"Then just kiss me and I'll shut up. It's that simple."

Heahmund's gaze was instantly directed to the full lips in front of him, whose delicate rosy color was only partially visible in the faint moonlight. Unconsciously, he pulled his own lips inward, biting his lower lip in suppressed pleasure. He would only too gladly comply with Ivar's suggestion, knowing that kissing him was incomparable to anything he had experienced so far. He had never been a big fan of this intimate gesture, had rarely been tempted to share his breath with another person. With Ivar, it was the complete opposite. He literally craved for it, but was painfully aware that it was wrong to even think about the sweet taste that still lingered on his lips and tongue.

As to not be tempted further, he looked back at the ceiling, searching for the crack he had just stared at. "I would sin again in doing so."

"That even kissing is a sin is so ridiculous." Ivar sighed out in frustration. All those rules of Christianity gave him headaches on a regular basis. He didn't understand how people could voluntarily live with all these restrictions that took the fun out of life.

"I am a man of God who is here on earth to convey his sacred words and live a humble life. I should not give in to these base desires, but lead by good example. Therefore, I should not lie with a heathen, and certainly not with another man. You know that." After all, it wasn't the first time they spoke about this topic. Heahmund turned his head, letting his gaze slide once again from the ceiling back to Ivar. A mistake, he realized. Those bright blue eyes, additionally illuminated by the moon, bored into his and held him captive.

"Yeah yeah, spare me more details." Ivar couldn't hear it anymore. Even if he had asked himself, he had grown tired of this topic minutes ago. "I just don't understand why you let yourself be so restricted. How everything you say can make sense to you. It doesn't fit the strong warrior that you are."

"That I don't want to be tortured in hell for all eternity? Not to be able to see God's magnificent face with my own eyes when he welcomes me to heaven?" For Heahmund there was nothing more obvious as to why he tried so hard to be a good Christian. "I don't understand either how you can be so stubborn as not to see the truth. I want to save you, bring you salvation, but you refuse to be rescued." The thought that he himself was doomed to go to hell already frightened him greatly, but to know that the same fate awaited Ivar was almost unbearable to him.

With his index finger, Ivar began to glide over Heahmund's chest, drawing invisible lines, which only for him resulted in runes in his head. He averted his eyes from the icy ones, concentrating on what he was doing, but then he suddenly paused and looked up again. "Perhaps I should indeed convert."

Two fingers found their way under the prince's chin, gently lifting it to lure the boy closer. "Are you serious?" Hope resonated in his voice. Perhaps, Heahmund thought, he was doing something right here after all. If he managed to spread his faith and convince a high-ranking heathen, albeit in a scandalous way, maybe he was on the right path nevertheless?

Ivar smiled mischievously. "Yes. I should become a Christian like you. A bad one." His boyish smile turned into a wicked giggle. Self-satisfied. "I would do nothing but sin all day long, waiting to go to hell to celebrate all the good things that seem to happen there. The more I hear of this place, the more I want to go there myself."

"Hell is no joke!" Heahmund grunted angrily, incredulous at having been so deceived. The two fingers under Ivar's chin tightened their grip, making the Viking feel the anger his words had produced.

"But your belief is!" Ivar replied dryly, his voice thick with defiance. "It has so many ridiculous rules and prohibitions. Everything that is fun is forbidden. To me, living by your rules sounds like something that could describe my personal hell. So, how can you fear this place more than your current way of living your life? With all that regret, the whining about the most natural things? To me, it feels as if one has to punish oneself for needing to pee, to breathe."

"Hell is a cruel place. Unimaginable things happen there. It is not a place to joke about lightly. Not even as a heathen should you speak of it so carelessly, Ivar." Just the thought of that place made Heahmund wince; the hair on his arms and neck stood up. He didn't want to think about it in more detail, but Ivar refused to let it go.

"Tell me about it." Ivar was curious, but most of all he just enjoyed it when Heahmund talked. Even if it was stories about his faith, which he himself often found ridiculous, he liked the way the man next to him spoke about it. So euphoric, convinced. There was something attractive about it, and Ivar loved to tease him about it as well. It also ensured that Heahmund would not turn away from him again. Letting him talk made sure he stayed with him. In the present.

The former bishop sighed in defeat. He let go of Ivar's chin and let his fingers brush over the boy's cheek again until they disappeared into his long hair, tracing circles there. "It is a place full of the blackest darkness, for not even God's glorious light, which otherwise surrounds everything, can immerse into the pitch-black nothingness that exists there. The screams of the damned who are burned for all eternity, whose skin peels off piece by piece, and into which the demons sink their teeth to feast on their burnt flesh, are the only sounds that exist there. A mixture of all the pleading and screaming blends together. It is a place of suffering and torment from which there is no escape. One is separated from God. From the glory of his might. It is a small price to pay to live one's earthly life according to God's written words to escape damnation."

"That still sounds like a place to my liking," Ivar said, pursing his lips into a grin. "For my legs, this place is certainly comfortable. So much warmth. No cold to eat into my bones and cause me pain. But how can it be the darkest darkness I can imagine when there's fire?"

Heahmund kept quiet for a moment, pondering whether he should continue to engage in this discussion. Even though he had just been tricked, he knew that Ivar had no honest interest in the intricacies of his religion. He just needed material to make fun of, to expose discrepancies. "This is not a fire to warm yourself by. Like the cold, it tugs at your body, engulfing you in miserable agony in an ever-recurring cycle. You would miss the cold of your winters here as soon as you experienced even a fraction of that flesh-burning heat." Propping himself up on one arm, he reached for the thick furs to make sure Ivar's legs were covered by them, that he was warm and comfortable. Although he was a little incensed, he still didn't want harm to come to the prince, who was still looking at him smiling impishly.

While they were talking, Ivar had again begun to draw invisible runes over Heahmund's chest area. When his bishop rose, he had to interrupt this for a moment. His hand slipped to his lover's firm belly, where he let it rest for the moment. "Thank you," he said in a gentle tone, touched by the fact that the usually aloof man was so genuinely concerned for his well-being that he had to make sure his legs were not exposed to the cold.

To really thank him, Ivar decided to stop teasing. He didn't want this conversation to degenerate into a heated discussion. Not when he was just longing for sleep.

"Let us make a pact, Heahmund. I won't need to long for the heat of hell if I'm not deprived of the place whose warmth I usually feast on, which envelops me, infiltrates me deeply, and not only warms my body, but floods my whole being with rays as warm as those of the sun." Ivar took the opportunity to rest his head on Heahmund's chest as the older let himself sink back into the pillow. His arm wrapped around the strong upper body of the Englishman, over whose heart Ivar placed his palm.

"What kind of place shall this be?" Heahmund asked in puzzlement, not sure what he had to do with it and how he could keep this deal. For a moment he hesitated, but then he also wrapped his arm around Ivar, running his fingers through the long, loose hair.

"It's right here. Close to you, by your side in an embrace. This place is the most sacred for me. I would even give up my place in Valhalla if only I could bathe in your warmth, your love for all eternity." Once again, Ivar changed his position slightly, lifting his head to look at Heahmund. Automatically he returned the smile that appeared on the lips of his warrior. Although there was hardly any space between them, Ivar tried to slide a little closer to his beloved, happy to be so close to him. It was rare that they fell asleep in such close intimacy, that the Christian allowed this to happen.

Heahmund surrendered. How could he deny his prince this wish when he smiled at him with such a pure expression and looked at him with such soulful eyes? He had no chance against the feelings that raged within him. "Then I will not deprive you of it...for this night at least."

"Promise me that you won't sneak off to punish yourself in the morning either. I hate to see those unnecessary wounds on your body. There is no reason for that. Isn't love the purest of all feelings? You shouldn't have to feel guilty about it."

Heahmund felt strangely called out by the mention of love. It was such a meaningful word, which held so much power. His hand tenderly stroked the muscular arm that had wrapped around his chest, sliding along it until it reached the fingers which he intertwined with his.

Silence returned, letting Heahmund indulge in his thoughts. It was not long before he heard Ivar's steady breathing and could be sure that at least he was asleep. The cracks in the ceiling once again caught his attention, as if he could find an answer from his God in them about how to align his heart with his faith.

"I love you, my prince," Heahmund whispered, driven by his inner need to verbalize this emotion in a protected environment. Tormented, he closed his eyes, fervently hoping that God would leave him unobserved for a few hours, or at least that he wouldn't judge him even if his watchful eyes rested on him. Despite this worry that gnawed at him, he also felt strangely at ease. The warm body that nestled against him gave him a feeling of security. Something whose soothing effect he would not have thought possible before he met Ivar. With him, it had this impact.

His lips were resting against Ivar's forehead, letting little kisses follow, spreading wherever he could reach. The small hope that there was some truth in Ivar's words, that love was the holiest of feelings and that there was nothing wrong with what he was doing, flooded his mind. Perhaps, he allowed himself to think, this was his true calling. To find love and enjoy it. To fill his heart with this incredible feeling that made everything else pale into insignificance.

It sounded so tempting, and yet he failed to find refuge in that concept.

When the first rays of sunlight woke him from his slumber after a few hours of sleep, the urge to repent was still as overwhelming as before. Ivar's weight on his chest was still palpable, but much more suffocating was the guilt and blame that washed over him. Those feelings took his breath away, and made it difficult for him to remain rational.

Carefully, so as not to wake Ivar, who was still sleeping peacefully, he detached himself from the boy's clutch. Standing in front of the bed, putting on his informal clothes, he looked once again at the bed, glancing at the carefree face of his sweet devil. Heahmund could not deny that he was sinning again at that very moment by feeling envy. Envy of Ivar's carefreeness.

Heahmund could not suppress the urge to purify himself and so his feet carried him out into the forest, towards the dense undergrowth that he had already used several times for this purpose. He had to face his sinful behavior and make amends for it. In the end, heaven was just a sin away. This purification by his own blood, running over the sweet layer of sweat that smelled like the forbidden fruit, was his only salvation.

He was a sinner who prayed in tears for God's forgiveness.

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@youbloodymadgenius @istorkyou @ivarlover

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