iron crucifix

Momma and Me and the Devil Makes Three

People always tell stories about women who give birth to Satan’s baby. But do they ever ask what it’s like to be that kid? Yeah… that’s me. My dad is literally the devil. It’s cool, I guess.

My mother was a virginal and devout Christian girl when she got pregnant with me. She knew Satan was the father, but she still refused to have an abortion. So after I was born, all she could do was try to hide my more demonic features. But that never worked. The others knew I was different in strange, unseen ways.

When I was six, I discovered that Dad would visit when I summoned him. I’d draw a pentacle on my bedroom floor with chalk and ashes. I’d light red candles, and chant Bible verses in backwards Latin. Then—there he’d be! Sometimes he’d bring me a souvenir from Hell, usually a tooth extracted from a sinner he’d tormented that week. But best of all, he’d cradle me in his fiery-hot arms and patiently listen as I’d recite the names of the bullies who had taunted me.

Naturally, they’d always try to apologize once Dad got hold of them. But he had no mercy. None! He’d dangle them upside down, belching scorpions from his mouth into theirs. The scorpions would sting their lungs and chomp away at their bones and soft organs until they were helpless, screaming bags of hollow skin.

His protective rage made me feel safe, loved, and empowered. So much so, that when I was thirteen, I summoned the courage to tell him about Momma.

His scowl deepened as I recounted how she had begun my forced transformation from ugly to perfect.

“She held me down and cut off my horns with a curved blade,” I said. “There was so much blood that it mixed with my tears.”

“Did she?” he bellowed, narrowing his eyes. “What else?”

“My tail,” I whimpered. “She tied a string around it so tightly that it withered off.”

“And your hooves?” he asked, holding my wrists in his fingers, tenderly stroking the raw, still-oozing stumps.

“She burnt them off,” I whispered. “But I look fully human now, don’t I?”

Dad’s roars of grief and fury shook the earth.

He promptly nailed Momma upside-down to a hot iron crucifix and placed a crown of jellyfish tentacles upon her head. And for three days, I watched her die. Her blood mixed with her tears as she begged me for forgiveness.

“Her anguish is nothing compared to what you suffered at her hands,” he said, putting an arm around me. Then he hoisted me onto his massive shoulders, just like when I was little.

“Listen, kiddo,” he said. “You’re perfect, just the way you are. You always were. How about you come live with me, and finally become the Antichrist?”

“I’d like that,” I said.

With a stomp of his dreadful hooves, he opened a crack in the ground, and we descended to Hell together.

Cursed Woods

 Only the most determined vagabonds go where you, Jon and Todd were going.

The three of you had been partners since high school, the three of you all from bad homes, finding solace in eachother and the road. You had always felt at your best camping out away from society, seeing new places everyday and living off the land. Once when you were sixteen, you all ran away together for three months without being found! It was good times.

Today, you take on your biggest challenge.

Granata’s Hike.

Noone goes there, as legend tells, because its cursed. An ancient shapeshifting fairy supposedly placed a curse on it after a hunter killed her child, who had been playing in the form of a mink. What the curse entailed noone knew for sure, but most believed it true as everyone who has gone refuses to talk about the experience. The rough, rockiness and steepness of the grand hill made it tough to traverse even if you didnt The perfect test of your little gang’s ability.

“Hey. Hey Eddie! Daydreaming again?” Todd shook you from your reminiscing with an energetic shout and a rough jostling. “ We’re here! The base of the cliff.”

“Well then what’re we waiting for? Lets get up there!” You exclaim, playfully impatient. Jon giggles from the backseat, pulling the hiking bags out of the back of the van as Todd parks. You make some final gear checks, and you start the trek.

The trail is overgrown, rocky and steep, but the flora is flourishing and lush, full of color and healthier than youve ever seen on such a rough patch of land. The trees hang low with fruit and spanish moss, and you often have to move branches out of your face or cut tangled plants that block your path. Slowly but surely though, you make your way up.

“You guys okay back there?” You shout to Jon and Todd, who had begun to lag behind a bit about an hour in. “Yeah, Todd’s just feeling a little queasy is all!” Jon shouts back, helping Todd continue moving upward. He had gone a little pale in the face, but that was typical. He was prone to getting vertigo when you were climbing this high, but Jon’s got his back.

Another hour passed, and you suddenly began to gag. You forced yourself to continue despite intermittently feeling the urge to vomit. But when the next hour came and you reached the top, you could fight it no longer and rushed despite your exhaustion to the edge and vomitted over the side before Jon and Todd got up to the clear peak of the cliff. You sat down, face thankfully clean and the sensation gone. Probably just some bad trail mix or something. “WE MADE IT! You shouted to the boys, the three of you cheering your success. Now comes the fun part. Camping!

It only took half an hour to set up the whole site, the three of you all quite experienced, but you kept feeling a strange twinge inside. “Im feeling kind of off right now, i think ill take a nap if thats ok with you guys.” you say apologetically, to which both agree. “Get your rest!” Jon responds sunnily, “Yeah, so we can do the gathering together later!” Todd tacks on, sticking his tongue out at you playfully when you roll your eyes. You curl up in your sleeping bag, but you cant sleep. The strange throb in your belly too distracting. You sit up and whine, putting pressure on it in hopes of relieving the pain, but the moment your hand touched your stomach the dull twinge blossomed into horrific cramps. You cross your legs and grit your teeth as tears prick the corners of your eyes, your hands on you stomach, your belly beginning to grow beneath your fingers, grotesque creaking, groaning sounds coming from your stretching skin, stretchmarks beginning to stripe the sides of your belly. You scream.


Jon and Todd are at attention and run to your tent. Todd bursts in ready to murder an attacker and Jon runs in behind him with a war cry, but both freeze at sight of your condition. Jon clasps his hands over his mouth in shock and Todd stands starkly upright in fear and disbelief. Youre rocking back and forth on your knees and sobbing as the growth finally slows to a stop, but the cramps only intensify. A sudden gush of fluid from below startles you and brings the red heat of embarrassment to your tear sodden cheeks.

Jon moves slowly shakily towards you, and begins to rub your back. “I-its g-gonna be ok-kay, i p-promise. Youre so str-strong…” He murmurs quietly in encouragement. Tod approaches and ties your hair back out of your face in a little ponytail like his and gently rubs your belly. “I wont let you get hurt, i promise Eddie. You’re gonna be okay.”

You sob into Todd’s shoulder, gripping him for support as you feel something moving down, pressing against your ass… Bulging. You shift into a squat. “s-somethings c-c-coming out!” you whine desperately, nearly tearing your pants off your body in your frantic rush to remove them. Keening, screaming into Todd’s strong shoulder, something begins to crown your exit, and its huge. “Push, Eddie, you can do this.”

Jon yelps, seeing whats coming. “It looks l-like… L-like… y-youre laying an egg..?”

Theres nothing but fear in your eyes, as you look up at him incredulously. “Y-you cant be seri-aaaaaAHHHHHHHH!? NGHHH!” Youre sentence is cut off by the worst cramp yet, and a horrific shifting of weight as the thing coming out of you passes its widest point, and slips free. You fall over into Todd’s arms, exhausted and spent. You threaten to pass out, but you look and see, just as Jon had claimed, an egg, the size of a grapefruit, black with dark grey spotting.

You’re speechless, even when it begins to crack. In moments, the egg splits in half to reveal a tiny humanoid infant. It had small bugs wings and dark grey skin, but it began to cry shortly after hatching, much like a human baby. It had solid blue eyes, no whites or visible pupils, but vibrant and shiny. When it begins to cry, thats when your nipples begin to drip milk, your teats swelling up a bit, but after all of this thats the least of your worries. Jon lifts it, hands quivering, and gives it to you. Maternal feelings wash over you as it latches onto your teat, using its tiny pawed hands to knead your chest.

A loud sound like howling wind swept across the clearing, and a voice could be clearly heard. “Not enough. Not enough! NOT ENOUGH!” it shrieked, and with a sharp lasting pain, like you’d been stabbed with fire, your belly pushed outward again, bigger and bigger into a tight round orb of flesh. Pain hazed your mind.

To make matters worse, you heard your friends scream. Todd’s belly was the size yours had been for your first egg in moments, already squatting and pushing while still trying to comfort you. Jon’s was twice the size of youre first belly, and you could see the strain as he tried to be quiet to keep from worrying you, eggs pushing out both his vagina and his ass.

As your friends finish their births, your savior arrives. A park ranger, armed with an iron crucifix, brings a scissor lift to the open edge of the cliff, loading you three and your newborns and moving you down to safety as the entity screams in rage. She’d heard from a friend of theirs that they were planning on going, so she came to the rescue.

You lay 9 more eggs on the way back to your car, where you insisted to be brought. Todd and Jon curled up with you in the backseat, the four of you crying and speculating on what to do with your collective 13 fairy children, “pooka” as the ranger said they were. The 13 of them shapeshifted when you breastfed them, all three of your breasts engorged with milk for them, into humans that looked like all three of you, and you decided.

Maybe settling down wouldnt be so bad after all?

tycutio aesthetics tho like

mercutio is a 6'1" skinny, foxy pakistani dude in dr martens with bubblegum pink hair who always wears pastel colours in a totally punk rock way

tybalt is like 5'4" and latino and covered in tattoos and he wears crucifixes ironically and looks like the bad boy out of a born this way-era lady gaga song

  • sherlock fandom: now that mofftiss has disappointed us, we might as well make do with Elementary
  • me on watch on top of the city wall, armed with a crossbow soaked in holy water and an iron-studded crucifix while smoking hand-rolled cigarettes: *lowers binoculars* ready the civilians and draw the salt circle, captain. Time to put the protective wards to the test. The storm's a-comin'.

  1. Fur of unknown origin coated the inside of her mouth and the back of her throat.
  2. The sclera of her eyes were a scarlet red. Her pupils were fully dilated.
  3. Her skin showed a normal amount of sun damage for an average adult.
  4. In her heart was a pure silver bullet. The wound had long since healed.
  5. A wooden stake lodged in her chest. It had broken off, and the splinters were scattered throughout her chest cavity.
  6. A tiny iron crucifix in her stomach, bearing someone’s name carved upon it. Padre Ramirez recognized the trinket as his grandfather’s.
  7. A piece of garlic, hidden under her tongue. It had been there so long, it had already begun to sprout.
  8. Her fingernails and toenails were long, thick, scaly, and carved into dagger-like points. Some more fur and bits of flesh were found underneath the fingernails.
  9. In her intestines, a strange misshapen finger. A tongue. An eyeball. Some teeth. All partially digested.
  10. When her veins were opened, what was found within was not blood, but a viscous black substance.

“There’s the proof,” said the Padre, wiping his ichor-stained hands on his robes. “It is unquestionable. Ursula Roman was a vampire. The same one that has been making trouble in this village for a hundred years.”

“Possibly,” said Doctor Ignacio as he stood. “Wasn’t she known to frequent the village during the daylight hours?”

“She wielded the devil’s magic,” Padre Ramirez insisted. “It is the same thing that protected her from every other charm—or perhaps even brought her back to life.”

“Ah… yes… but…”

“Doctor Ignacio, nothing could be more obvious! She never attended mass. She never asked to be healed by the power of the Holy Spirit. She gathered wild herbs and furnished her house with the skulls and bones of wild animals.”

“And yet…” said the doctor.

“And yet?”

“There is something about this that makes me… uneasy.”

“Outrageous! You madman. You Spanish swine. Look again at what you have extracted from this corpse! A silver bullet. Garlic. A stake through the heart. The people in this village have been trying to fight her for years! It was only our luck that she could be killed by water!”

“Did you see her die?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “We threw her in the river ten days ago. I removed her talismans and bound her hands and mouth, so she could not utter a charm of resurrection. I watched her sink, but not emerge. She was only found this evening in the sagebrush meadows by two shepherds, far from the river… What are you saying, doctor?”

Doctor Ignacio closed his eyes. “You’ve made a terrible mistake, Padre. Ursula Roman died of fright.”

Padre Ramirez stared at him.

Then he looked down to the corpse lying upon the church floor, oozing black and green, its face contorted into a monstrous silent shriek.

“There is no doubt,” the doctor continued, “that she was an inhuman creature, and your attempts to drown her were futile. But what frightened her into death shortly thereafter was a beast far more unearthly, and unimaginably dreadful! The body parts in her intestines, and the fur in her mouth, indicate some sort of struggle. Perhaps… perhaps with something more powerful and immune to death than she was. Something that is still out there, somewhere. She must have guarded this village from its ravenous jaws for a hundred years… and then, finally, stripped of her charms and talismans, weakened by repeated attempts on her life, she could not rebuke it any longer…”

“Almighty God,” whispered the Padre, making the sign of the cross. “She was our only protection from it!”

“And you killed her,” said the doctor, shaking his head.

A loud, frantic knocking suddenly sounded upon the church door. Both men jumped.

“Ah!” said Padre Ramirez. “That must be the undertaker.”

“Splendid!” said Doctor Ignacio. “Invite him in.”


2013. Origin Of Extinction

is the second album by band Mortillery.

Mortillery are on a mission to deliver true Thrash Metal to oppress the masses with their debut album “Murder Death Kill”. In a scene that is over saturated with retro acts, Mortillery stand out with their holocaustic riffage, raw energy and dynamic female vocals. Drawing influence from a wide range of artists such as Judas Priest, English Dogs, Warfare, Broken Bones, Iron Maiden, Crucifix, Slayer, W.A.S.P. and early Metallica, the unstoppable force of Mortillery is reminiscent of the glory days of Bay Area Thrash as well as the primal aggression of intense hardcore/punk. A must have for fans of The Accüsed, Anthrax, Death Angel, Destruction, Détente, Discharge, Razor, Sacrilege, Sentinel Beast, Tankard, Toxic Holocaust, Violator and Znöwhite.

this album is flawless, Mortillery play classic thrash, with a nice mixture of some modern influnces. Cara, their vocalist, has an outstanding range and blows 90% of male thrash vocalist away, very dynamic. All in all,  Play at a loud level so you can topple some buildings in your neighborhood!!

Miranda Gladeau   Kevin Gaudet   Alex Scott    Alex Gutierrez   Cara McCutchen

I know I’ve been procrastinating, so here’s a preview of what I plan to share tonight.

Anime Boston photos!

This one is courtesy of a photoshoot with the very kind and talented Griffin Burrows; I’m uncertain if he has a tumblr.

Jean is iron-crucifix.

Marco is sorriso-naturale.

More to come later, lovelies~.