#Our Father which art in Heaven

[theexodvs]

Four people came up to the stand to recite the Lord’s Prayer in their native language before the rest of the congregation recited it in English.

How was your Pentecost Sunday?

[aestheticpebbles]

Servus Dei

Pairing: Priest!AU Aegon II Targaryen x reader

Warnings: NSFW/18+ ONLY! MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED, MDNI!, swearing, violence, murder, smut, religious/catholicism imagery/mentions/themes, priest+nun power dynamic abuse, dirty talking, light dubcon if you squint, fluff if you squint harder, use of alcohol, porn with plot, fingering, overstimulation, choking, oral (f receiving), p in v intercourse.

Summary: Father Aegon arrived at your convent, but things become alarming once you realize he isn’t the priest he appears to be.

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: fic below the cut! not religious at all so please correct me if I messed anything up! also, not proofread… but enjoy! inspo from his cunty hair serving from s1.ep.8.

1548. Somewhere outside of Florence, Italy.

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.“

The rosary beads clenched tightly laced around your slender fingers nearly gave way to a pinching sensation between your knuckles as you prayed under your breath, reciting ‘Our Father’ as you do every morning upon dressing into your white habits and joining the nuns and sisters at the first morning service of your convent.

However, you weren’t sent here upon your own bidding, rather than fulfilling the wish of your parents after they sought to nip your rebellious streak of your late teenage years in the bud after you expressed during a drunken fit that you instead wished to dance and drink until you dropped before marrying off to some Lord.

You knew your parents did this to reduce any scandalous likelihood of you, an unwed daughter of a newer-money noble family, boring a bastard, but you still did not forgive them for your new life of chastity and divine mercy worship. Yawn.

You were still considered to be relatively new to the convent as you were just beginning your second year of working towards your devotion to God and being tested on your postulancy, so you still wore white robes and veils rather than black. You felt as though you had done well in your studies of the faith thus far considering the circumstances in which you were brought here upon.

“Good morning sister,” Sister Hilda, another white-robed sister about a year older than you, smiled once the first service ended and you found a place next to her side while making your way to the dining hall for breakfast.

The sun’s morning rays that began to peek over the horizon illuminated the dining hall with a dim, blue hue as the world awakened. You both made yourselves plates of bread and cheeses before sitting down together. Talk was kept small and hushed between the two of you while discussing various scriptures and chores needed to be done.

“I heard the new priest is arriving this morning,” Sister Hilda suddenly whispered under her breath, my eyes flickering up to meet her gaze upon the sudden topic of a conversation that could be considered borderline gossip and would serve much to the dismay of any superiors if anyone would overhear the two white-robed and veiled young women conversing over such a topic.

Instead of scolding Sister Hilda once your gazes met, you proved your nature of still wearing the white fabrics rather than blacks by leaning in as well about an inch or so, quickly looking around to see if anyone was lingering nearby to eavesdrop before responding to her.

“Is that so?” Your eyebrow cocked up in surprise. There had been talks of a new priest that had recently left from an abbey outside of London, and was continuing his preach of faith now here with us at our nunnery as our current priest was, well, he was old, “have you…?”

“Within the hour, I heard,” Sister Hilda’s eyes lit up with excitement, proving her own nature as she still struggled with her own inner turmoil with such activities. You found the vow of celibacy at first to be something that you wouldn’t have to think twice about while you devoted yourself, but as time went on, you found yourself seeking repentance and trying to pray away the gnawing feeling you felt bubbling within sometimes that made you doubt your own worth in the eyes of the faith.

You nodded once, acknowledging her words carefully with a playful side smirk. Though gossip was highly discouraged, word still had many opportunities to be carried by the wind throughout the dormitories of your convent.

“Il suo nome?” Your voice dropped down low once more after a few moments, switching from English to Italian just to be safe when you asked Hilda ‘his name?’, but she only shrugged in response, unsure of the answer either.

After breakfast, like usual, you found yourself in the library as you were one of the few sisters who, thanks to your upbringing in a decently noble family, had been taught Latin. You often found means of completing your daily chores by aiding in the translation of Holy passages and texts.

Today, you had been handed a scripture to be translated by an older nun who always wore a signature grouch, so there wasn’t much to be said when you were given the dusty book made of animal skin and thick, waxy lacing that secured the spine.

A relic of the sort lost to at least 300 years, resurfaced once more only to become your problem to deal with when you immediately find yourself scowling under your veil at the faded ink on the ancient pages. You stood up and found yourself a dictionary in Latin just in case whoever wrote that damn pitiful book didn’t know what they were saying, much to the older nun’s dismay but you didn’t care as you sat back down with a murmured ‘God help me’ under your breath.

Dipping your feather quill into a small jar of black ink, you began your day’s work of translating the pages that were practically threatening to fall apart as you delicately turned over each one.

It possibly would have felt odd for another white-veiled sister like yourself to have been tasked with translating such an eerie text of those who wore multiple, yet all beautiful faces and how to ward them off, but like it was just another day, it was just another book of Latin words that you were tasked to translate into fresh ink of English literature between your obligatory meetings for daily prayers and masses with the others, and you’ve read worse.

Your legs were itching to stand after sitting down for an extended period of time, nearly a static-like burn radiating deep as you leaned back in your chair from your upright posture, slouching your shoulder forward for a grace moment with an exhale before standing upright once more properly in case the Abbess, Mother Esther, walked by.

Afternoon sunlight beams shone through a nearby window that you now stood in front of trying to warm yourself up from the cooler temperature of the library, your muscles easing against the windowsill as your wrists and fingers had ached for a little while as well.

Being on the 2nd floor of the building meant having a lovely view of the convent’s architectural layout and the courtyard within the open holdfast of about an acre or so. A few young black locust trees littered the acre, creating enjoyable spots for shaded rest you occasionally found yourself under, almost smiling to yourself when thinking about better times than translating 300+ year old scriptures from Latin to English about an ill-satiable apparition—it’s biblical name, Agneo, one who shapeshifts and requires to feeds from the sins of its prey. A book of complete lunacy that was a blessing in disguise as it gave you something to do.

However, the momentary bliss of recounting suddenly soured once you realized you were about to miss the 4th prayer service mass of the day when you looked down from the window and saw a huddle of those remaining outside waiting to file along inside in orderly fashion across the courtyard of your convent.

It was no use to try to rush out and attempt to make it, so you hesitantly let out a tense sigh and leaned against the window still, your eyes moving to ground below until you saw mainly atop skulls of Mother Esther dressed in her finest– and in tow, a man that nearly made your lips part upon the sight of his features after the involuntary oath of celibacy you took on.

Broad shouldered, his face even from above was sharp-featured, straight nosed, and platinum blond hair as could be neatly combed and parted down the middle. He is, undeniably, the most beautiful man you have ever laid your wretched eyes on, and the sight made your legs press together as you watched the two of them below you.

Once seeing him, you were desperate to see Sister Hilda to willingly break your vows of what your new lifestyle meant to share the gossip of sin, to gossip silly words that meant plenty well beneath the surface that meant for yourself at least to have plenty of reason to seek confession and repentance from His mercy in the foreseeable future.

During your brief moment of pure sin, or what sin at least means to you at the time, you let out a small gasp and moved away from the glass realizing the neat head of hair was slowly tilting upwards in an almost premeditated manner, and from the 2nd floor, his ice blue eyes burned scorching hot daggers like the gates of hell straight into your soul for the mere seconds that you held his sudden eye contact.

As if he knew you were standing there above him and Mother Esther, as if he knew you had been leaning against the edge of the windowsill with your legs crossed and your thighs pressed together at the perfect angle while you watched them when you were supposed to be in the 4th prayer service.

Your heart was pounding in a mixture of adrenaline, anticipation, and … excitement. A certain feeling you haven’t felt since before being sent here. Desire.

Despite shifting away from your original stance next to the window, your vision couldn’t move away any further out of sight from him as the two of you kept your eyes locked.

Within that brief moment that felt like eternity and despite the temptation that threatened to fester within your neglected core now reigniting, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as your instincts inside your mind began screaming ‘flight’ but your feet were cemented in place while looking down into his cold, dead eyes.

Behind the decrepit Mother Esther’s back, the new priest held his eye contact with you with a stone-like expression of almost disgust until the corners of his lips tugged and curled upright into a smirk. One side of his lips tugged higher than the other side and it made your blood run cold despite the heat pooling between your legs.

You exhaled once his head turned to meet Mother Esther’s as she turned back around to him to point out the library, and the two of them continued on and you were finally able to move from the frozen stance you held.

You had managed to avoid the new priest, his name quickly learned by you through Sister Hilda to be Father Aegon—until you found yourself kneeling before him at the altar rails while he wore the same disgustedly amused expression while placing the communion bread into your cupped palms sitting upright.

“Amen,” you murmured softly, placing the wafer into your mouth as he extended his other hand and brought the cup of wine in front of you as you swallowed thickly.

“The blood of Christ, shed for you,” Father Aegon nearly purred, the sound of his voice speaking directly to you for the first time was intimidating enough, let alone the manner in which it rolled off of his tongue was enough to catch you off guard and leave you stunned at such a vocal display during a Holy service.

Your lips had parted a few centimeters due to your shock and your bottom lip quivered as you barely choked out another ‘amen’ in response while he pressed the rim of the chalice against the pillowed flesh.

Maybe it was the way he spoke, or the way he wears devilish tight-lipped smiles like he knows he's fluffing up another chicken house with unpreened, unruffled hens who live among cobwebs, or maybe it’s the way you can feel him staring straight down into your soul as you took a sip of the wine while holding eye contact with him up through your eyelashes.

After drinking the same wine since the day you first arrived and you had returned to your seat, you realized on your tongue that the aftertaste of the once bitter representation of the Blood of Christ was now sweet. Too sweet.

The type of sweet that makes the feeling of temptation to yearn for more not sound half bad even though you still found shame while you prayed in your seat until the end of the communion, even more so in the hours that followed when nobody else seemed to comment on the wine. As if the taste was unchanged to the rest.

You actually managed well to avoid Father Aegon as he settled in and slowly took over hosting more and more masses and prayers over the next fortnight, though it was absolute agony that was slowly chipping away at your sanity.

No matter the distance between the two of you, an unnerving fear always found you when in his presence and even more so if it was without your knowledge on a passing occasion or he could see you but you couldn’t see him. Since the day he arrived, you felt like you were no longer alone at any moment, always holding your breath to turn a corner like an accidental dance of cat and mouse for no real reason.

You’d be shunned if you dared speak the reason of your maintained distance being temptation, even if you were going such lengths avoiding him to resist such.

Father Aegon’s piercing gaze alone sent chills down your spine, enough to rattle the assembled vertebrae within the confines of your habits just like the one that coursed through you while you browsed the shelves of the library looking for works regarding astronomy to keep you company in the late hours after the Midnight Mass.

You didn’t need to see him to know he was likely stalking nearby, whispering with that strangely enticing demeanor he holds himself up with, and the way his perfectly plump lips were always cocked in some purse of amusement to offset the dark purple, sunken look to his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days, weeks.

Your own eyes had begun to mirror Father Aegon’s sullen look as well during your descent into the madness occurring within your mind when you started to lose sleep because of him sinking his claws into you even in your dreams filled with imagery of sin beyond your comprehension. The more time you spent trying to avoid him, the more he encroached upon every aspect of your life and you hadn’t so much but exchange momentary glances and proper greetings spoken hushed on your part.

After all, anyone would find holding eye contact difficult with one whom they have carnal, perverse dreams about, waking up panting in the middle of the night covered in sweat and an agonizing pool between your legs. Even after waking up you could still feel his touch on your skin.

Though what terrified you the most was the eventual visible appearance that left residual memory fragments from the vivid dreams, as if they themselves were distant memories, real memories, from the past. Gripping bruises protected by layers were littered around your wrists, arms, thighs, breasts, small bite marks and scratches even as well. Some even would remain red, or pink as if they had just occurred moments or hours prior, but that couldn’t be possible.

You’ve been alone all these nights… right?

“What could possibly interest you at such an hour, sister?” The voice of the dreaded priest you desperately sought to avoid drew out from behind you, causing your shoulders to roll back into a stiffened posture to play off the chill that threatened to visibly shake you. You closed your eyes for a moment while goosebumps broke out across your skin hidden beneath the white fabrics before quickly reaching up to grasp the book you intended to grab and pulled it close to your chest before turning around to face him.

“Astronomy, Father,” you answered without nearly half a spine, mentally cursing yourself at your inability to hold yourself with dignity when subject to his commanding gaze.

Father Aegon never failed to not wear his smug grin that seemed to compliment the sullen orbs that were half-lidded in what could only be described by a blind person as being a seductive manner. When you finished answering him and his smirk grew, you didn’t miss his tongue swiping across his pillowy bottom lip— both stained red… and the smell that belonged to that of alcohol.

You swallowed thickly once putting the puzzle pieces in place and your fingers gripped the corners of the book tighter and the edges dug into the creases of your fingers creating a pleasant stinging sensation to help stay grounded. The priest, he who is supposed to live and serve to proclaim the word of God, stood here before you with sweet wine coating his wicked tongue with practiced precision.

Father Aegon had sin written all over his cruelly beautiful face. Certainly not to be trusted at any given second.

Father Aegon’s smug half-smirk was still etched on his mouth that sent another chill down your spine when his irises unmistakably fell from holding your gaze down to your own lips with those lazily-hooded blue eyes swirling with emotions beyond your somewhat innocent comprehension.

Father Aegon was absolutely terrifying to be around, but although your fear didn’t directly come from him, your own body produces enough cortisol and epinephrine for an entire herd of corralled sheep waiting to be slaughtered by just being around him. Afraid of the fact that if he touched you right now, you know you wouldn’t be able to stop. Afraid of the fact that you know he may know how you truly feel deep down by just looking at you with those eyes that appear to be hiding an inferno from within himself.

“Copernicus…” Father Aegon suddenly murmured with a cock of his eyebrow as if he had posed the single word as a question rather than the affirmative tone he used when referencing the Polish astronomer whose works had caught your interest when accessible, “you like him, Sister?”

“He’s an accomplished astronomer and a fine mathematician,” you responded carefully, unsure of the waters of the moment and feeling the bile threatening to rise and expel which prompted you to kindly dismiss yourself wishing to depart to rest for the evening until he suddenly reached out as you turned to walk. His taut grip around your dainty wrist in comparison to his large hand was daunting and was an unexpected rush of surprise-horror when you were practically yanked back where you stood before him.

“Hm,” Father Aegon hummed in amusement, a flash of something eerie glazing over his lazily hooded eyes while his strong grip on your wrist loosened slightly, but not without his calloused thumbpad grazing gently across the delicate skin of the underside of your wrist, “why don’t you come by my office tomorrow evening? I have a piece that would interest you… brought it with me from when I met him briefly at Oxford.”

Your own eyebrow cocked at his words, nearly-half bewildered that a man like him went from such a prestigious place like the Oxford society to… priesthood in Florence where he, in the middle of the night, now was intoxicated and having you cornered like a rat subject to his mercy while his thumb caressed your wrist like a coveted lover.

Your eyes flickered down to the tight grip he held on your arm and you dared to pull once more, and much to your surprise he let go. Looking back up at him, he was amused with a strange sense of triumph like he could already foresee the internal turmoil you would be rolling in all day tomorrow until you would eventually cave in within yourself to give in and seek him out for the sake of knowledge.

Wasn’t that the sin of Eve? Coaxed by the snake, the devil, to taste the forbidden apple of knowledge?

Father Aegon wouldn’t taste half as sweet as an apple, but a part of you knew deep down that with dealing with a man like him and his caliber comes with knowing the venom from his fanged canines would likely sting twice as bad in the days to come if you did not seek him out.

So like the loyal hound you were, there weren’t many inhibitions that stopped your fingers from clasping the golden ring hanging from a matching golden lion’s head mounted on the wooden door and knocking twice. You knew you had no business being here at this hour. You had stopped by this very office twice today, once before dinner, and again afterwards but left both times with only pursed lips and heightened anxiety. Evening. Evening. Evening.

“Sister…” Father Aegon grinned upon seeing the sweet lamb standing there outside of his door waiting so patiently for him like the good girl that he knew she is even if she couldn’t muster any words to properly greet him. He stepped out of your way with an outstretched palm directed towards an empty chair sitting on the other side of his desk, the open hand gesturing to you to sit, “please, come in.”

Shame and humility fueled the pace that drove your footsteps from the corridor and into his working office in a scurry, the fuel most delectable for sin to fester within and grow necrotic while Father Aegon shut the door behind you. You couldn’t miss the sound of the lock turning over as you focused on your breathing pattern and your fumbling fingertips toying with one another as you sat down and silently pulled your chair in under yourself.

It wasn’t the locking of the door that made your eyes widen, but watching him pick up a golden, jeweled chalice that sat on the edge of his desk with matching rings adorning his thick digits, taking a hearty swig while sauntering behind you and over to a large bookshelf on the left wall that likely carried prized works both owned by the convent and his finest pieces.

You kept your head straight for the most part, only tilting it slightly to be able to keep an eye on him in the corner of your peripheral and through the thin white veil head covering, watching his ringed finger reach up to one of the shelves while the other hand held the chalice. The way he moved so freely was almost sensual in a way, his fingertip grazing the spines of the prized collection of knowledge as he searched using the dim orange glow emanating from the roaring hearth that danced as the flames waved.

“Tell me, sweet girl, what is it about the stars that calls to you… draws your attention so?” Father Aegon suddenly broke the silence that only hosted the soft crackling of the embers causing your head to angle slightly more in his direction. You swallowed thickly again, inhaling through your nose while watching his index finger curl around a medium-sized book and gently tug it free from the confines of the neat shelf.

“One can’t help but wonder who they are,” you answered shakily, referring to the stars themselves, the subconscious anxious habit of your fingertips toying with one another going full blast in your lap that had sparked back to life hearing the previous words of endearment he must addressed you with as if he was toying with you too, “what are they… what are they made of?”

Father Aegon nodded slowly with another hum of acknowledgment as he turned on his heel with his chin cockily angled, walking back over to where you sat on the other side of his desk and stepped next to your chair. He held out the book for you to take and you did after a moment of hesitation, taking the book delicately from him as your eyes danced over the intricate stitching and adhesives carefully applied that held the valuable text together.

He stood over you for a moment with one hand on the back of your chair, the other bringing the rim to his lips for another swig before he let go, much to your approval as you let out an exhale you didn’t realize you were holding, and stepped away to sit down in his own chair on the other side of the desk while you admired and he purred out, “the book… Copernicus’ heliocentric theories. One of the first copies given to me from Nicolaus himself. I’ll let you borrow it for the evening...”

You couldn’t hide the spark of interest that illuminated behind your eyes at the topic that you had been wishing to learn more about as the theories were still considered recent developments. A small smile crept onto your face but you quickly pursed your lips together to swallow your pride and triumph– something that didn’t pass by Aegon, but the suggestive tone towards the end of his final words didn’t pass by you either.

“Thank you Father,” you murmured softly, your thumbs grazing over the pressed letters of the title embossed and sealed by gold leaflets, “you are very gracious.”

Father Aegon only chuckled darkly, something you hadn’t heard yet until now and it was scarier to experience first hand than his empty, soul-piercing glare.

He took another sip of his wine before setting the chalice down on the desktop and leaning forward on his forearms with intertwined fingers and an unmistakable gleam in his wicked eyes, “I’ll tell you what Sister. I have heard nothing but good remarks regarding your performance… I’ll let you have it if you promise to take good care of it.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and your forehead scrunched in confusion, lips parting in shock but quickly stammering out a response to his words while gently placing the book down on the desk with a forced smile. A part of joining sisterhood was an oath of poverty despite your aversion to the lifestyle but your conditioning was taking over your frazzled mindset, and a book of that value had no business being in your possession good marks or not.

“Father I-I apologize, I can’t accept such a gift, you honor me but-I,” your tongue and lips failed to coordinate without an exasperated stutter while your brain misfired, only making Father Aegon’s lips curl further upwards in a devious smile.

“Call it a favor then,” Father Aegon replied with a low purr, his half-lidded eyes missing any trace of the blue pigment against the orange hue of the fire and the darkness of the world as he stood up, slowly stalking back around to where he stood behind your chair again.

“A…favor?” Your eyebrows dropped from the cocked expression of shock into one of weary alert as you tried to read him as best as you could, holding eye contact with him until he eventually always won with the inferno that reflected in his black holes for dilated irises while he walked to your most vulnerable side.

“A favor,” Father Aegon sluggishly murmured in response, his teeth baring in his amused grin when you flinched feeling the topside of the joints of his fingers reach up from behind you and brush against your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered under his delicate brushing touch against your cheek, unable to comprehend a single thought in regard to how to react to such inappropriate behavior and gestures being exchanged, but after involuntary celibacy and conditioned shame, it only drove you further mad yearning for the touch of a skilled lover after being denied such pleasures for so long.

It wasn’t until his index finger pressed against the underside of your chin to lift your head up and his thumb curling up to press against your bottom lip that you were violently dragged back to reality. Looking up at him while fidgeting with your fingers absentmindedly in your lap, he smiled deviously as if he was a child with free reign in a candy shop.

He stepped in front of you to enter the small space available between you sitting in the chair and his desk, leaning against the edge as he twisted and reached back to grab the chalice he’d left behind, turning back to you. Your heart pounded in your chest watching him extend his hand, guiding the rim to your lips and raising the cup for gravity to let the rich, deep red juice funnel into your mouth as if you were kneeling at the altar and had already received your tasteless communion wafer.

Eyes widening, you realized he wasn’t relenting until you finished off the remnants of the chalice when he kept tilting the cup’s stem and you having to swallow in faster lapses than expected to keep up with his antics causing you to choke softly.

You pursed your lips shut tightly with a bemused expression on your face between his actions and the sweet red wine, unable to save the small bead that gathered and trickled down from your lip to your chin, but Aegon was there to spare your white habits from any stains with a brush of his thumb collecting the alcoholic nectar and bringing it to his own lips to suck clean off.

“Tell me… why are you really here?” Father Aegon slurred out between tipsy snickers after releasing his thumb with a sickly sweet suckle like he knew exactly the effect he had on you and the reactions you were willing to give back with a little shove.

“My parents wished not for scandal,” you blurted out, almost like not caring how sloppy you spoke for the sake of your own honorable presentation.

“So, you liked to get around. You liked to have fun… you were a whore?” Father Aegon’s grin was wicked and curled up with a sense of malice as he gently caressed your cheek while you shared details about yourself to him. You knew he found some sort of satisfaction with your words by the way his teeth clenched like he was thinking hard through the intoxicated haze of his own mind.

“Um-,” your eyebrows furrowed again, a streak of anger shooting through you causing you to flinch again away from his hand, pulling out of his grasp on your chin as you stood up, not willing to explain to him that laying with two men that you had possibly seen as prospective husbands doesn’t make a young lady… a whore, “I apologize Father this is highly inappropriate. I should go.”

Your abrupt reaction to his words seemed to replace the playful gleam in his eyes with one that teetered on the edge of malice and danger, one that made your blood run cold. Panic flared through you when he dropped the golden chalice without care, and grabbing your wrist with one hand, yanking you back down to sit again.

“We are not done talking, Sister,” Father Aegon snarled out, a sinister gleam in his eyes while he stood up straight, letting go of your wrist only to take a hold of your chin once more, your lips slightly smushed between his fingers, “I haven’t given you permission to dismiss yourself.”

“I-I am sorry, Father,” you sputtered out, unsure of how to respond to him and his firm, calculated grip that always reminded you he was one step ahead at any given point. Aegon only hummed in amusement, his moist tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip as he turned your head in his grip from side to side, studying the details of your face against the orange glow from the inferno of the fireplace.

“Let me see you show it…Prove it,” Father Aegon’s eyes lit up in deranged excitement while yours glossed over in confused horror, sitting frozen in shock while he kept his grip on your chin with one hand, the other reaching up seemly to lovingly caress your cheek only to fist a palm full of your white veil, forcefully undressing your dreadful headdress and revealing one of your secrets you hid from your other Sisters. Instead of cutting your hair short like the rest, you kept yours braided and secured beneath your headdress, the same one Aegon pulled off without hesitation that made your jaw drop in disbelief.

“I don’t understa-,” you cried out in a sudden frustration, angered that he was abusing the power dynamic he knew he held, then still having enough fuel inside him when daring to lay a hand on you in such an inappropriate manner and revealing your hair.

If your Sisters found out you hid your hair, you could suffer greatly socially, and Aegon just paved his way straight over without any second thoughts. Your words though were cut off when his fingers clutched your braids and yanked you back to your feet.

“Understand this, doll. I see the way you look at me, how you scurry away from me like a mouse, there’s nowhere you can hide from me,” Father Aegon taunted, his dilated pupils laced with delirium and sin as he maniacally giggled, “I know everything.”

Any protests or shrill shrieks that could have escaped your mouth would be forced to be made straight into Father Aegon’s mouth that nearly swallowed your face whole when his lips came colliding down on yours in a pre-established sloppy, yet demanding kiss.

You wished to want the will to release a frightful scream against his lips, to cry out in disgust, to thrash around violently in his concrete hold on you while he forced his tongue into your mouth after letting go of your chin and dropping down to your hip.

His grip quickly moved from squeezing your hip around to your backside, grabbing a fistful of your buttock and his other hand still holding and tugging on your hair to elicit a gasp while your palms were outstretched when pressing back against his firm chest, but you did none of those things as your mind began buzzing softly, signaling the beginning the swirling descent into a tipsy haze from the amount of alcohol he had you consume in one sitting.

In fact, you did the opposite once the taste of him resonated with you when you found yourself sucking back on his tongue instead of screaming and crying about your dignity, your outstretched palms bundling up the fabric of his neat, black collar between your fingers like a deserted whore needy for more. Because that’s exactly what you felt like, and the realization made you sick when you suddenly were spun around in his groping embrace to be lifted onto the desktop.

Father Aegon wasted no time shoving his knee between your legs and parting them to situate himself between your legs without breaking the heated exchange between your lips that caused soft groans to escape from the both of you.

His hand that held your buttock again wasted no time reaching under your skirts, hiking the fabric up while he held your whimpering skull in place by your hair as he kissed down your jawline, panting heavily in your ear when he traced up your inner thigh.

He smiled wickedly against the shell of your ear while you managed to let out a stifled moan feeling his fingertips slither their way past your small clothes dampened by your arousal, massaging agonizingly slow circles against your clothed clit, sending ripples of electricity through your body. a soft, humiliating ‘there she is’ was murmured into the cartilage that echoed down to your eardrum once your lips parted with your surrender and giving into his touch, your cheeks shamefully burning red hot.

“For someone who took a vow of chastity, your cunt weeps like a virgin,” Father Aegon nibbled softly on your earlobe while your face contorted in pent-up pleasure and your mind swirled. In truth, you hadn’t truly consumed that much alcohol, but the effect he had on your mind caused the effect to feel 10-fold from the scent of his musk and the wine on his lips, his wretched tongue and damned touch assaulting all of your senses out of nowhere.

Your fingers clutching onto his black button up gripped on for dear life feeling his fingers begin to variate their course from rubbing circles to teasing your slit before dropping down, his middle finger breaching fully past your entrance coaxing a shrill gasp from your throat that his lips were licking and placing open-mouthed kissing down. One of your hands jumped from his shirt to his bicep, wincing from the sudden scissoring penetration as he got to work establishing a pace.

“Fuck, your pussy is so tight,” Aegon murmured quietly through a groan against your skin, your entrance clamping down almost painfully around the 2nd digit he teased your tight hole with for a moment before adding it in, his middle and ring finger moving in and out of you in overwhelming patterns that made you look at the back of your skull doubled with the feeling of his free hand suddenly groping your breast through your robes, pinching and rolling your clothed nipple between his fingertips, “this pussy ever been fucked?”

Your eyes rolled back straight and snapped wide open at the vulgarity of his words, your lips parted further in sheer shock that those words could at all even be used together in a sentence, but your body was still betraying you as you ground your hips against his hand that was fucking you mercilessly. How this man became a priest was beyond you at this point, barely choking out a ‘yes’, his gaze darkening as if that wasn’t what he wanted to hear and he let go of your breast, reaching up behind the nape of your neck again.

Aegon’s hand found a hold your braided hair and twisted once more, a pained cry leaving your lips and your eyes screwing shut in another wince while his own lips were curled upwards. His eyes bright with a sinister intent, his other hand still pumping his two fingers in and out and you panted with a heaving chest.

“My name, sweet girl, say it right,” Aegon purred with an underlying, dangerous tone of voice that hid the true intentions that he was only giving you one chance to say it right despite multiple answers being applicable to stroke his ego while his fingers repetitively curling a ‘come hither’ motion within you.

“Yes sir,” you finally cried out, his chest emanating a grunt of acceptance meanwhile your spine arching as the coil deep within you threatened to build up. As if Aegon could read you like the back of his hand, he let go of your hair and reached around you as he swiped everything, including the prized book, clear from off of his desk.

He withdrew his fingers from your weeping cunt much to your dismay, only to be rendered speechless when he used both of his hands to grab and move you by your hips to the side of the desk, using one to shove your back down to lay on the surface and the other to hastily hiked up the skirt of your habits as his head dipped down, his lips kissing and his teeth nipping up your inner thighs.

You prayed that nobody was walking by Father Aegon’s office as they’d receive earfuls of lewd cries that fumbled from your throat in wails after he practically dove headfirst, your legs on his shoulders and his hands holding you in place by your thighs as his lips and tongue got to work swirling and sucking on your clit.

His platinum silver curls that were neatly parted down the middle, combed and slicked back behind his ears was disheveled within seconds as you reached down and carded through his hair, crying out in pleasure and awe at his ability to seem like he already knew every inch of you by heart.

“O-Oh my,” you squeaked out, your jaw agape as you tried to grind your hips against his face as he groaned delicious vibrations against your core, his tongue in place of his fingers greedily drawing your essence from your walls in filthy slurps that had you sobbing praises in a pleading mantra as you writhed in place.

“That’s it, good girl,” Aegon praised between quiet growls, kitten-licking your tented and overstimulated bud leaving you whining and yearning for more. The coil had begun to wind up tightly in your lower belly creating a burning sensation that threatened to snap like a taut rubber band.

“I’m gonna’ come,” you cried out softly and he chuckled darkly, nipping your sensitive flesh before suckling harshly that elicited a sharp yelp from your throat that quickly morphed into a wail of surprise as you flew headfirst into your first orgasm in almost two years. Aegon feasted and slurped every drop that expelled from your contracting cunt like a starved man, groaning in delight when your evidence of ecstasy from his touch spilled from your aching core and into his greedy mouth that caused your toes to curl painfully.

Father Aegon quickly stood up, not bothering to wipe his fingers and chin that were still glistening with the residue of your orgasm causing a deep blush to form on your flushed cheeks as you slowly came back to reality from the sound of his belt unbuckling.

Aegon hastily reached into his pants and pulled his throbbing cock free from the confines of his black dress trousers, watching his beautifully plump lips parting when he slapped the angrily flushed head against your weeping cunt a few times. His vile actions were so bewildering you were rendered speechless once more, unable to formulate words when looking up at him with bleary eyes as he fondled your folds for a few seconds, gathering your slick and smearing it across his tip and down his thick shaft waiting impatiently to fuck you in half.

“This is wrong. I-We shouldn’t do this. I don’t want this. God for-,” you managed to blurt out in soft whimpers, lying to yourself to try to hold onto the last shred of dignity you had while shaking your head only earning a sadistic smile in response from Father Aegon as he cut you off.

“You don’t want this? You weren’t the same girl watching me, pressing her thighs together as she hid in the library? Stupid girl, you’re so desperate and touch-starved, I could smell your cunt from outside. Your False God isn’t here. He can’t save you,” Aegon cooed softly, shutting you up immediately as you were left staring at him like he sprouted three-heads. You wouldn’t be surprised at this lint though. A priest using the words ‘False God’— how ironic.

Despite his cruel words, his tone of voice was almost sickly sweet if his hand wasn’t guiding the head of his cock back to your entrance and you braced yourself with a shrill gasp while he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours while he giggled maniacally under his breath sending chills of fear down your spine.

Father Aegon whispered in a taunting sneer as he continued to threaten you in a gravelly voice under his breath, the stench of wine still lingering on his tongue mixed with your release, “oh, pretty girl, the only God here is me,” and with that, he pistoned his hips forward.

A sharp hissing cry fell from your lips feeling the tip of his cock parting your neglected walls, splitting you from the inside out as your jaw hung agape and his eyes were wide– almost deliriously so as his own jaw hung agape too as if he was breathing out the energy of the cries carried out by your exhales while it seemed as though your body was losing energy as the seconds passed on. Like his hand, his hips made work establishing a steady pace as he fucked you open for him, drawing raw shrieks from your diaphram that forced him to clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” Aegon snarled against the back of his hand as your eyes rolled back, his lips kissing the corner of your parted lips when he finally let go of your mouth after the initial burn within your core dissolved and your sobs died down. His plump lips continued to kiss down your jaw, suckling and nibbling up and down your neck as you moaned and cried out shamelessly.

His words were absolutely vile and defiling and he knew it only spurred your innocent heart further, his hand that was pressed against your mouth dropping back down to grope your breast as he fucked you deeply, “God your cunt was made for my cock. Fuck it’s so fuckin’ tight– you like it when I talk to you like that? You like being fucked like some needy slut? ‘Course you do. What would your Sisters think if they found out what their whore pupil was doing in here?”

“I can’t, I can’t,” you suddenly started blabbering out in response despite your own legs hiking up around his hips to draw him in closer, your hands reaching up and gripping onto whatever you could while you rocked back and forth to his merciless motions.

“Yes you can,” Aegon panted breathlessly against your skin, his tongue swiping across your collarbone as he grunted over and over in his own world of desire, the lewd sound of skin slapping and your cunt squelching was foul in harmony with the considerably romantic blazing of the fireplace while he kissed his way back up your neck and caught your lips in another fiery, sloppy kiss between grunts and moans and cries of pleasure.

He murmured against your lips and his free hand not holding you down against the desktop in place by your breast being kneaded between his fingers, reaching between the two of you with his other hand and rubbing furious circles on your overstimulated clit, “say my fuckin’ name. give it all to me.”

“Aeg- I’m,” you cried out against his lips trying to obey his command to use his name while feeling the coil quickly wind tight once more as he effortlessly fucked you apart. As you came, stars littered your blacked out vision as you trembled and writhed, your spine arching pathetically trying to gather as much friction as possible while you shook in pleasure. Aegon moaned lowly feeling your walls contract and squeeze his cock as he continued without stopping, fucking you straight through the waves of ecstasy that left you feeling as though you had to piss everywhere, but that wasn’t what it was.

You could not have cared any less about any repercussions of your undoing with this man tonight— until he pulled out, flipped you around and bent you over the desk, plunging back inside of your cunt from a new angle causing a mewl to rip through you, and even more so when your walls fluttered down and you practically squirted back, coating both his legs and yours from your newfound experience of being overstimulated.

But as Aegon was turning you around, you suddenly had the perfect view of Father Aegon in the reflection of a mirror that had been hanging on the wall behind you, now seeing him in a full display in a reflection for the first time and took in the image that could have fueled your nightmares for the rest of eternity.

His shadow was cast up against the ceiling from the flames of the hearth illuminated, except two massive wings stood above Aegon and joined his body’s shadow as you mewled out incomprehensible words of confusion through the haze of pleasure that wracked your mind.

“Aegon,” your voice cracked, your eyes flickering to the mirror hanging on the wall dead ahead of the two of you, finally seeing Father Aegon for who he was finally through another lense and the sight alone made a scream of fear tear through you, but once more his hand came clasping down on your mouth and another sharp cursed reprimand dripping in poison was hurled at you from behind. The reflection of the man that had you bent over like a plaything, pistoning his thick cock roughly in and out of your aching cunt in the reflection of the mirror was unlike any creature you’d ever laid eyes on before.

In the reflection, while your face was streaked with tears and flushed in terror, his face looked nothing like what you saw with your own eyes, his reflection having beady black eyes, almost paper white skin, teeth long and sharp like fanged razors and his hands with long, clawed digits. You couldn’t miss the tall, pointed and curly black horns and the almost impressive black feathered wings that slowly rose and outstretched in the air after you said his name.

You couldn’t pull your eyes from the mirror even after he said your name, his hand eventually let go of your mouth and roughly grabbed your jaw, holding your head steady. Tears flowed hot from your eyes as you tried to thrash in his hold but it was no use as he chuckled wickedly above you, his pupils blown wide but it was no comparison to the dark, gaping holes you saw in the reflection of the mirror.

Father Aegon was no Father, no priest at all, learning within seconds that life was in fact cruel like that. Was there truly a God now realizing you had the entire situation practically spelt out for you when you translated that ancient scripture in the library, but you were too naive to realize the foreshadowing. The name of the shapeshifting apparatus isnt Agneo. It’s fucking Aegon.

This revelation truly meant only one thing: Aegon was a demon, and you, by saying his name, sealed off the deal and selling him your soul, his hand angling your chin up and to the side to press his lips down on yours, his tongue working your mouth apart once more, grunting against your lips when his pace faltered.

You felt your womb grow heavy while he panted and mewled, his wretched seed spurting from the head of his cock as his hips twitched between stilled moments, painting your walls as he moaned into the crook of your neck. You thought it’d be the end of the night, your mind too frazzled to even comprehend what to do next as your blurry eyes cracked open from being scrunched shut.

But Aegon’s nightmarish reflection remained the same, his smile sinister and evil as his snakelike tongue sharp and black as could be trailed up the side of your cheek as his hand kept its tight grip on your chin to hold you steady while he collected your salty tears on his tastebuds.

“Aegon…Please don’t hurt me,” you whispered pathetically, trying to claw at his taloned grip on your face and it almost struck a chord within his despicable body as he chuckled darkly, placing a soft kiss on your trembling cheekbone.

“I think it’s too late for that, sweet girl, you taste too divine,” Aegon purred softly, your doe eyes wide with horror watching in the reflection of his other hand reaching up, his clawed talon delicately moving a stray lock of hair from your face. He actually admired you, pleading through tears and drool and all, but the moment had to end at some point as his clawed hand caressed your temple and he murmured softly against the apple of your cheek.

“Just know this though, so far, I think you were my favorite. I might actually miss you,” Aegon kissed your pillowed flesh for the last time after vocalizing his odd apology that almost felt genuinely sentimental before his talons dug into your chin and your temple to hold you steady as you cried out in protest, then silenced for eternity after his wrists rolled and snapped your neck.

His deflating cock was still buried to the hilt within you as you dropped lifelessly against the desk, and the demon removed himself from his latest victim with a triumphant smile. He hastily readjusted himself and your skirt to cover your modesty, not that you were alive anyway to care, as he sat back down in his seat.

Father Aegon kicked up and crossed his legs on the desk while pouring himself another chalice of wine, continuing to admire your lifeless expression of shock while your pupils slowly dilated, and the blood that slowly dribbled out of your nostrils and out from your lips onto the desk. The blood dripped down onto the floor while your lost soul descended to the pits of Hell with that same sinister smirk he wore the first time he laid his eyes on you.

[daizedndconfused]

You wouldn't happen to be open to doing a cole x reader where they are asked by wu to train the ninja (because there extremely flexible and skilled) and they end up beating all of them without using many weapons would you??? Mehehehe I love your writing and cole is so Under Appreciated (people should give him so more love!!) and you portray his character so well thank you thank you :3

new girl

a/n - hi lovely!! tysm for the request and kind words hello?!! also loved this request we love us a strong girl hahaha i kinda drew some inspo from our icon ty lee. this lowkey ended up being longer than i thought but SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG SOME RANDOM SICKNESS WAS KICKING MY ASS ALL WEEK??? but we’re getting better now hahaha (also totally agree give my boy cole some love he deserves it) anyways enjoy i hope i did your vision some justice honestly if you want me to make a pt 2 i sooo can with some more one on one moments

characters - cole x reader

type - fluff!!

warnings - just some mild violence in the form of sparring

synopsis - the ninja a relying too much on their elemental powers and master wu needs some help reminding them of what’s really important who better to teach them than you??

“Breathe,” your mother reminded you gently.

Easy for her to say, she wasn’t the one suspended in a middle-split between two rocks over a stream. Regardless, you did as she asked, feeling the air move in and out of your lungs and the sweat forming on your temple.

“The key is concentration–balance,” her voice came from the bank to your right.

Most of what she said you already knew having been doing this for years, but you didn’t mind.

In and out your breaths went, eyes closed, relying only on your hearing until you felt your mother’s presence hovering next to you.

Peaking your eyes open, she stood on a nearby rock smiling down at you.

“Very good,” she nodded, offering you a hand to help you up.

“Thank you,” you exhaled, stretching out your legs a bit after so long in your previous position.

Your mother smoothed your hair back before leading you across the stream and back onto the land where you promptly shoved on your shoes.

The two of you chatted beneath the warm sun and cool breeze all the way back to your house. Though even before entering, you heard voices coming from within.

You shared a look of confusion with your mother.

That was odd, your father should be the only one home at the moment.

You gently pushed the door open and followed the voices to your living room where you saw your father in a deep conversation with an older man.

“Wu!” Your mother chirped, rounding you to greet the stranger.

The old’s eyes crinkled as he smiled beneath his long wispy white beard. Your mother bowed slightly as a sign of respect, and you thought it only best to do the same.

Eventually, you all sat around the living room, each nursing a steaming cup of tea.

“What do we owe this visit?” Your mother asked kindly. Apparently your parents and Master Wu went way back. They learned all they knew from the man himself, which then trickled down to you.

Wu took a sip of tea before answering. “I wish to offer your daughter a job.”

All eyes moved to you.

A job? What kind of job?

Your back straightened slightly at all the attention. “Sir?”

Wu sighed wearily, “I have realized I may need more help than I currently have. Upon opening a tea shop, I have less and less time to teach my students.” He swirled his tea twice before his eyes set upon you. “Would you be open to helping out?”

“Oh, uh… your students are?” You trailed off.

“The ninja, dear,” your mother filled in gently.

Oh. The ninja? What could you possibly teach the ninja? Sure, martial arts was nothing new, and yeah you were trained in combat thanks to your father, but they had elemental powers for heaven's sake.

“I’m not sure how much help I could be,” you answered sheepishly.

“You do not need special abilities to teach,” Wu smiled. “And I fear the elements are why I am seeking this help in the first place. It appears my students are disregarding their training for their elemental powers.”

That made sense. Whenever you got frustrated while training with your father he always reminded you you didn’t need flashy powers to be strong. Because while they may be useful, there’s always a chance they can vanish, and then what?

Eventually you made up your mind. “Okay, I’ll do it.” You quickly looked to your parents, “If that’s alright with you?”

“Of course,” your mother wrapped her arms around you. “We know you’re in safe hands with Wu. Just promise you’ll call?”

“Of course,” you assured her as your father also joined in on saying goodbye.

Before long you were packed with enough things to last a few weeks. You might have to repeat some outfits for a while since the duration of your stay wasn’t specified. But you always had money you could spend on clothes.

“How do we get there?” You asked Master Wu after he informed you he and his students were residing at his tea shop, Steep Wisdom.

He glanced at you out the corner of his, and you just caught the glint of a smirk beneath his beard before golden particles started to form in front of you.

From those particles, something even greater arose. A dragon.

Your mouth gaped open. Wu laughed before tossing your luggage on top of the large white and gold dragon that had just materialized in front of you.

--

The dragon flight was frightening at first, but as you relaxed it wasn’t so bad. You got to see things from an all new perspective. Dragon-eye view style.

Eventually, through the clearing of teas you flew over, you spotted a cozy tea house nestled between the woods.

The dragon dipped lower and lower before let out a warning, “The dragon dissolves, can you stick the landing?”

“Of course,” you smiled. A drop from this height? Easy.

You prepared yourself, but the disappearance of the dragon beneath you still caught you off guard a bit. However, that didn’t stop you from landing perfectly on your feet.

Flawless, you thought as your luggage somehow landed just as gracefully next to you.

The space around you truly was beautiful. A wall surrounded the tea shop and courtyard, and you heard rushing water faintly in the distance, telling you there was some type of natural water nearby.

What you didn’t notice was the five boys lingering outside upon your arrival.

“Uh, anyone gonna introduce us?” A slightly high pitched voice asked.

You snapped your gaze away from the scenery and towards the voice. Five boys around your own age and dressed in colorful gis regarded you curiously.

Before you could introduce yourself, Wu cut in. “This is your new strength trainer. She’ll be taking over lessons when I’m busy. I expect each of you to treat her with respect.”

A course of “Yes, Sensei’s” were said before the bowed in unison.

Then, an older woman with a long braid falling down her back summoned Wu. Something about an inventory issue.

“Excuse me,” he said to you, and then to his students, “someone will need to show her to her new quarters.”

With that he was gone. And you were left with five teenage boys staring at you.

“Um, hi I’m (Y/N). Nice to meet you.” You stuck with a polite introduction.

“Hey there,” a brunette boy with somewhat spiky hair said. “You know we don’t usually get many new people, may you and I could–”

“Kai,” a tall boy with black hair, cut him off. “Don’t be weird. She just got here.”

“What?” Kai gaped. “I was just going to ask if–”

“I apologize for my brother.” This time the voice came from… a titanium robot? Now that’s something you don’t see everyday.

Clearly the surprise was written all over your face at the unanimous chuckle that came from each boy.

“I am Zane,” the robot didn’t seem phased by your surprise. “This is Kai, Jay, Cole, and Lloyd. Kai’s sister also resides with us, but I’m afraid she is busy helping Misako and Master Wu.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” you responded. “Do one of you know where I’m staying? If I don’t unpack now I’ll never get it done.” You admitted with a laugh.

“I got it,” said the boy with black hair you now knew to be Cole. He walked over, and grabbed each of your bags as though they weighed nothing.

“You don’t have to do that, I can take some of them. I know they’re a little heavy but no one told me how long I’d be staying.”

“Please,” Cole smirked, “it’s nothing. I can lift more than ten times this weight.”

“Show off,” Kai coughed.

“You okay?” Lloyd asked him.

“Yeah just something caught in my throat,” Kai shook his head before coughing the phrase again.

Cole rolled his eyes at Lloyd and Jay laughed. Zane didn’t seem to get it. You even found yourself smiling at the joke before following Cole to your room.

“Don’t mind them,” he said. “They can be a lot sometimes.”

“Something tells me you also fit into that category,” you teased. You are who you hangout with afterall. Though it wasn’t always true, it seemed fitting for this situation.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out won’t you?” Cole joked, looking back at you over his shoulder.

Eventually the two of you climbed a set of stairs hidden in the back of the tea shop. Upstairs was a small apartment looking room with multiple sets of doors, one of them being your own room.

It was a decent size, about the same as the one you had back home, with plenty of closet space.

“It’s not much I know,” Cole said, “but there’s been worse places we’ve stayed trust me.”

“No it’s perfect,” you insisted. “I don’t need a whole lot to get by.”

Cole nodded, setting your stuff down. “There’s two bathrooms, the boys and I share the one on the left, and you’ll be sharing with Nya on the right.”

You nodded, looking around your new room, thinking of all the ways you could make it look homier. Cole didn’t say anything more, but he didn’t leave either. He simply stood in your doorframe, looking at you, looking at your bare room.

“What?” You asked him, smiling.

“Nothing,” he shook his head with a grin. “Sorry, I’ll let you get settled in.”

You wanted to tell him it was no problem, but he vanished before you could. Out of all the boys you had just met, was the best looking in your eyes.

Shiny black hair, tall, and built like the mountains he commanded. Your new job was off to a good start already.

It was well into the evening when you finally met Nya. She sighed thankfully at the sight of you. She loved her brother, and she didn’t have any problems with the boys. They were all equally respectful, but other than Misako she had no other girls to talk to.

You too were happy for another girl to talk to. There was only so much testosterone someone could be around.

The two of you got along quickly as you offered to stock some shelves with her. Even though you were technically here to train the ninja, you weren’t due to start until the next day.

Your alarm woke you up at six thirty sharp. You know you weren’t supposed to start with the boys until eight that morning, but you wanted to get an early start on your first day before you got lazy.

Passing your way to the bathroom, you ran through your morning routine groggily before you headed downstairs to make yourself a cup of tea to wake you up.

Scanning the shelves for something that looked appetizing for the early morning, you didn’t even hear someone approach you from behind.

“I personally like this one,” a familiar voice said from behind you before a hand shot out and grabbed a case off one of the shelves just a hair too high for you to reach.

You jump slightly, startled by the person’s presence.

Spinning around, you saw the voice and arm belonged to Cole. He was smiling softly at you, a case of green tea in his hands. He too held the appearance of just waking up–tousled hair, sleepy eyes, and the lack of a shirt with black plaid pajama pants.

You quickly averted your eyes from his bare chest and instead found refuge in his earth eyes.

“Why green?” You blurted. It was the only question you could think of at this moment. And maybe it would distract him from the fact you were ogling him just a bit.

“Helps with energy,” he shrugged, tossing the case up in one hand. “I’ll start the kettle.”

It took you an embarrassingly long time to follow him to the back of the tea shop where a small kitchen resided.

He filled the kettle up with water and placed it on the stove before taking a seat at the island next.

“I’d make you some breakfast, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t be edible and that’s not the first impression I want you to have of me.” Cole laughed sheepishly.

You laughed with him before you took it upon yourself to scope out the fridge.

“How do you feel about omelets?” You asked after finding multiple cases of eggs. With this many ingredients you would be able to feed the whole team.

“I’m down,” he nodded.

You closed the fridge slightly before you saw a slip of paper taped to the front. It seemed to be a list of written chores, and at the bottom written in all capital letters next to a star were the words, ‘COLE IS NOT ALLOWED IN THE KITCHEN UNSUPERVISED.’

“Jeez, what’d you do?” You giggled, gesturing to the paper.

The boy flushed slightly, shrugging his broad shoulders before saying, “You set fire to the oven one time and suddenly you’re untrustworthy.” He rolled his eyes.

“Funny how that works.”

“Hilarious.” He deadpanned.

“Well since you can’t help with the food why don’t you just grab anything you want to add to the eggs, help me find the pans, and I’ll take care of the cooking part.” You suggested.

“That I can do,” he slipped off the stool.

Even though he wasn’t helping with the actual breakfast, the two of you worked in harmony together. He’d hand you the spatula, chop some vegetables, and give you some spices upon request. However, when you thought you could trust him with cracking an egg and he ended up getting it all over his bare torso you took it upon yourself to tie a black apron around him.

“Seriously?” He laughed as you tied the knot around his waist.

“Yup,” you nodded. “Damn. I’d need a magnifying glass to find your waist.”

He tipped his head back and laughed as you returned to flipping omelets with a smirk.

At this point you had successfully made two cups of tea, and three omelets. On the fourth, you were starting to grow more confident.

“Think I could flip it without a spatula?” You asked.

“No,” Cole shook his head, now seated on the island behind you.

“No faith,” you gasped, offended.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he shrugged, leaning back on his palms.

“Oh yeah?” You challenged before grasping the pan handle with both hands. You’d never done this before, but how hard could it be really? The answer was not very as you successfully tossed up an omelet and caught it gently on the other side.

You cheered, victorious as Cole also encouraged you, both laughing all the way.

Eventually, more and more people started waking up, and the more competent ones (Zane) began to help you with breakfast.

By the time eight in the morning rolled around, breakfast had been done, dishes were washed, and you were gathered in the courtyard with each of the ninja. Wu had given you the rundown of what he’d like you to work on with his students, and that’s exactly what you’d do.

“So,” you said, shaking the jitters out of your hands. “I’m thinking I’ll just spar one on one with each of you to see what you need to work on. Okay?”

The boys traded uneasy glances. “Are you sure?” Jay asked.

You smiled a little at their apprehension. “Yes, I’m positive. We’re just sparring, remember. But don’t hold back, otherwise it’s just a waste of time.”

“Yeah, you get your ass handed to you by Nya all the time, this shouldn’t be different.” Cole patted Jay on the back.

The others laughed at Jay’s blush and he grumbled something inaudible under his breath.

“Okay Jay, since you’re so worried you’re up first.” You waved him over. “Sensei said no powers.”

“Right,” Jay nodded as he approached you slowly.

“I’m not gonna bite you, Jay.”

“I know that!” He defended as the boys behind him howled with laughter.

You couldn’t help but tease him as the two of you got into a fighting stance.

You dug your feet into the ground and steadied your breathing. The key to combat was focus, controlled breathing, and anticipation. At least that’s what your father told you.

It was no surprise to you that Jay attacked quickly. He was the master of lightning afterall. However, that was what made him so predictable.

He’d throw a series of quick jabs that you avoided with grace. With each attack you’d be just an inch out of reach. Jay was quick–but you were quicker.

You didn’t notice it, but the chatter was nonexistent, and Jay was wholly focused on sparring. Though the sweat building on his forehead, and his attacks slowing were also becoming more prominent.

He threw a high kick in there this time, which was just what you were waiting for. The second his foot came off the ground, you moved to the side, grabbed his ankle, and with your own leg, swept his balancing leg off the ground causing him to fall straight onto his back.

Jay landed with a wheeze, but you helped him up just as quickly. “Your attacks are precise, but they’re sloppy. You try to cram in a lot of combined attacks and hope for the best. If you slow them down a bit you’re more likely to land a few.”

Kai ‘Ohed’ from the sidelines. “You didn’t even get one hit dude.”

Jay glared at him as he took a seat beside Lloyd.

“And you won’t either, your turn.” You pointed to Kai.

The others laughed, but Kai rose, determination clear on his face.

You got into position again, but this time you’d change up your evasion techniques. Since he spent the previous match observing you he no doubt knew some of your moves.

Kai fought more aggressively than Jay, but with less accuracy making him easier to avoid. You twirled around him after a hard punch threw him off balance slightly. With your backs to each other, you only had a moment to grab his arm, crouch, shift your weight, and flip his body over yours.

Kai landed as hard as Jay.

After explaining his problem to him, you called up Zane next. You wanted to get the analyzing robot out of the way before you completely ran out of cards to play.

You had to admit, Zane almost got you, but you quickly threw yourself from his reach with a well timed aerial over his shoulder. Just as you landed he threw a punch, but you were ready for that. You crouched the moment you landed, and swept both his legs.

Standing quickly, you had just enough time to catch the front of his gi, suspending him above the floor ever so slightly. You felt a bit bad–you didn’t want to dent him after all.

Lloyd whistled, impressed, as he was finally called to the stand.

Lloyd, the green ninja. You knew he would also be pretty difficult, but it was like you were in a trance at the moment. You weren’t about to lose your winning streak, were you?

Being as flexible as you were didn’t hurt either. Sure the ninja were pretty flexible, but you could contort yourself into the most uncomfortable positions making it easy to avoid each of the ninja's blows.

All you had to do was wait until they tired themselves out, and then deliver the final blow. It was almost as if they were fighting themselves.

Lloyd looked concentrated, but his stance was off slightly. You feinted one way, and he fell for it easily, shifting all his weight onto one side of his body to prepare for the hit he thought was coming. Instead, you spun and shoved your shoulder hard into the opposite side of his body.

Lloyd crumbled like a house of cards.

When the green ninja retreated with a defeated look on his face, you were left with only one ninja now.

You suspected because of his height, Cole would be slow and off balance, but you were wrong. He was sturdy, and his height only added to his balance if anything. You’ve fought people bigger and stronger than you all the time, bad unlucky for him they only went down one way.

After a while of going through your song and dance of avoidance once again, Cole laughed.

“You’re slippery, huh?” He joked.

You winked before sliding between his legs, kicking the back of his knees and then once more between his shoulder blades to send him tumbling down to the ground.

“Wu was right,” you huffed, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “You guys rely way too much on your powers.”

“Alright, cough it up, where’d you learn that?” Jay asked.

“Learn what?” You laughed, helping a grumpy Cole from the floor.

“You flip around so much I got sick from just looking at you!” Jay whined.

“Lots of practice and some time in the cirque,” she shrugged.

“Like the circus?” Cole asked, looking down at you.

“Not the stuff with the tent and the animals,” you clarified. “More like the Cirque Du Soleil shows, you know? Anyway, I did a lot of acro as a kid. Made it easy to learn combat.”

“That’s awesome,” Kai said. “Have you ever juggled fire?”

“I told you, it’s not the tent type of circus,” you laughed. “It’s classier than that. That’s besides the point, you all have work to do. Lucky for all of you we’re going to start with yoga today! Just as a warm up.”

You giggled behind your hand at the unanimous groan coming from all five boys.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hi :)) do you have any advice on writing stories about Celtic mythology? Ive been trying to use Wikipedia to learn more about it but I find the format of it isn’t very digestible for me and I end up not understanding it well

Writing Notes: Celtic Mythology

The ancient Celtic pantheon consisted of over 400 gods and goddesses who represented everything from rivers to warfare.

With perhaps the exception of Lugh, the Celtic gods were not universally worshipped across Iron Age Europe but were very often limited to only several regions or a specific area.

Another difficulty in examining the Celtic pantheon is the paucity of written records produced by the Celts themselves; quite often a god (deivos/deiva) is named in only a single surviving inscription.

To further complicate our lack of knowledge, the Celts often gave all-embracing powers and attributes to their gods which means that they can rarely be easily categorised.

Celtic votive inscriptions from the Roman period often name a Celtic god with a Roman equivalent noted alongside, a practice known as the interpretatio romana. The following are a few major deities or those with multiple or significant inscriptions.

Andarta - a Celtic goddess whose name may derive from the Celtic word for the bear animal.

Borvo (also Bormo) - a god whose name likely derives from the Celtic word meaning 'to boil' and so indicates his frequent association with natural hot springs.

The Dagda - an Irish-Celtic god whose name is usually preceded by the definite article. His name likely means 'the good god', probably in the sense of being 'many-skilled'. His common attributes are a great club, which can both kill and bring the dead back to life, and a giant cauldron that can produce an inexhaustible quantity of food, especially porridge.

Danu (also Dana) - a Celtic mother-goddess who gives her name, which means 'stream' or 'the waters of heaven' to various places and the River Danube.

Genii Cucullati - mysterious Celtic divinities which are not given a name but appear in groups or alone and wear hooded cloaks in art. Depictions typically have them near a single better-known god and holding either an egg or a scroll.

Nemetona - a goddess whose name derives from the Celtic term for a sacred grove of trees (nemeton). Votive inscriptions naming the goddess survive from both England and Germany, some of which indicate she is the partner of Mars. The goddess had temples dedicated to her at Klein-Winternheim and Trier, both in eastern Germany.

Suleviae - this is a group of Celtic sister goddesses who were venerated in Britain, Germany, and Rome (where there were many Celtic mercenaries). The trio was most likely seen as protective figures and associated with regeneration.

Read the full list here. More Celtic mythology concepts and themes:

Albion - Ancient Celts referred to Britain—not including Ireland—as Albion and only later as Britannia. The Romans connected Albion through their word albus, meaning “white,” with the white cliffs of Dover. Geoffrey of Monmouth reported that the Celts believed a certain Albion who ruled the island was a giant fathered by a god of the sea. Others believe the island was named for a princess who came to the island with fifty women who in their former home had killed their husbands.

Belenus - Also known in Celtic Ireland and Britain by various names—Bel, Belinos, Beli, Bile—Belenus is a god of Celtic Gaul whom Julius Caesar compared to the Greco-Roman Apollo as a solar god of light and reason. He carries a solar disk on the chariot that he presumably uses to travel daily across the sky. His British name is the source for Billingsgate in London. Fires in honor of the god were lit for Celtic festivals of Beltaine (“Bel’s Fires”) on May 1.

Cernunnos - A horned Celtic god of Gaul (modern France) and parts of the British Isles, Cernunnos was a god offertility, like the Italian goddess *Ceres. He carries a club and is lord of the animals. Perhaps because of his association with planting and seeds, he was associated with the underworld. The Romans linked him to Mercury, who led souls to the underworld, and to Apollo, as he provided light for the dead in their graves. Sometimes he is equated with Dispater and the Irish Dagda.

Decapitation - An important theme in Celtic mythology in general and Irish and Welsh mythology in particular. The story of Bricriu’s Feast is a decapitation myth, as is the Welsh story of Bran. The theme influenced the Arthurian myths and the medieval English romances such as Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Earlier decapitation stories are found in the Bible—including the tales of David and Goliath, Judith and Holofernes, and Salome and John the Baptist. There is also decapitation in the Greek myth of Perseus and Medusa, and in the Mesopotamian myth of Gilgamesh and Humbaba. The decapitation theme—especially when associated with a “green man” such as Gawain’s Green Knight, the Aztec Corn King, or many Native North American Corn Mothers—may well have its roots in sacrificial rituals of fertility. Heads that have been cut away from the body, as in the case of Bran’s head, continue to function and talk in Celtic mythology, suggesting a belief in the head’s being the seat of the soul as well as of power and fertility.

Dis Pater - In the Gaulish, that is, continental Celtic mythology, Dis Pater was the Roman name provided by Julius Caesar for a god claimed by the Gauls as their father god, or ultimate progenitor. The name given by Caesar suggests that the Romans saw a connection between this deity and the otherworld or underworld. As, literally, “underworld father,” Dis Pater is naturally associated in Caesar’s mind with the Roman Pluto. The Irish cognates would probably be the Dagda, the father god of the Tuatha De Danaan, and Donn, the god of the dead.

Druids - The priestly class in early Celtic societies, especially continental Celts. They were judges and seers with great moral authority, who ranked above all other classes. As such, they were the equivalent of their Indo-European brothers, the Indian brahmans. The Romans in Gaul developed myths about the druids such as the one suggesting that they practiced human ‘sacrifice. The Irish filidh may be said to have somewhat diminished druidic standing. The great Celtic bards Taliesen and Amairgen had druidic qualities and authority.

Epona - It was primarily the continental Celts who revered Epona, the horse goddess. She was naturally adopted as a favorite by the Roman cavalry and was celebrated at an annual Roman festival. Epona has certain earth goddess aspects, such as her strong association with fertility, sexuality, and water. In Welsh mythology, Epona appears to have had a cognate in the fertility-warrior goddess Rhiannon, who rode about Wales on a white horse dispensing gifts, in the traditional great goddess manner, from her bag or womb bundle.

Irish mythology

Lugus - His name, referring to brightness, indicates that the continental Celtic god Lugus, whom Julius Caesar equated with the Roman Mercury, was a cognate of the Irish Lugh and the Welsh Lleu. Lugus was a god of the arts.

Maponos - Son of the continental Celtic mother goddess Matrona, has a Welsh cognate in Mabon, as Matrona has one in Modron. Maponos was the divine child— the puer aeternus—of Celtic mythology.

Matrona - In the continental Celtic tradition, Matrona, whose counterpart in Welsh mythology was Modron, was the mother goddess whose son was the divine child Maponos (Welsh Mabon).

Nehalenia - A Germanic and possibly continental Celtic sea goddess who protected voyagers.

Taranis - (Taranus) was compared by Julius Caesar to the Roman god Jupiter. Taranis was the thunder and storm god of the continental Celts of Gaul. He was an aspect of the typically Indo-European triad of Esus, Taranis, and Teutates.

Arthurian Mythology

Annwn - (Caer Feddwid) is a name for the Welsh Otherworld, where a magic cauldron exists. In a medieval Arthurian tale, Preiddeu Annwn (The Spoils of Annwn), Arthur and his knights go to Annwn to obtain the cauldron, which, as indicated by the possession of the Cauldron of Plenty by the Dagda, the father god of the Irish Tuatha De Danaan, was a symbol of sacred kingship. Arthur and the few of his men that remained return empty-handed. The tale is seen as a prototype for the story of the Holy Grail.

Camelot - The castle and primary dwelling place of King Arthur, the seat of the fellowship known as the Round Table. It was at Camelot that the Holy Grail appeared to the knights of the Round Table. Many places in England to this day claim to be the site of the legendary castle. Camelot was first mentioned by Chretien de Troyes in his twelfth-century work Lancelot. Supposedly Camelot was destroyed after Arthur’s death. During the early stylish and optimistic years of the American presidency of John F. Kennedy, it became customary to speak of Kennedy and his followers in the White House, and of the administration as a whole, as “Camelot.”

Chretien de Troyes - A French poet of the 12th century C.E., Chretien wrote metrical romances about the ‘Welsh-British ‘hero ‘King Arthur and his knights of the ‘Round Table. Most famously, he wrote Perceval or the Story of the Grail, about ‘Percival (Parsifal) and the ‘quest for the ‘Holy Grail; and Lancelot, or the Knight of the Cart.

Fisher King - In the Arthurian story, the Fisher King is a somewhat ambiguous figure who is encountered in various conflicting versions by hero-knights of the Round Table— particularly Percival—during the quest for the Holy Grail. The King is in some sense wounded, a fact that affects the fertility of the land he rules. Some say that the King—Pelles, Parian, or Pellam—was guardian of the Grail but that he had sinned and was thus unable to speak when the Grail appeared before him. The King can be cured of his wounds or his speechlessness only when certain questions are asked of him. But when Sir Percival comes to the Fisher King’s castle and the Grail passes by him in procession, he fails to ask any questions about it, and the King remains under the terrible spell.

Galahad - Originally Gwalchafed in Welsh, Sir Galahad was a knight of King Arthur’s Round Table in medieval Arthurian sagas. His story had strong heroic mono- mythic elements. Galahad was the son of Sir Lancelot and the Lady Elaine, whom Lancelot had been tricked by a potion into thinking was his beloved Guinevere. Galahad was brought up by a nun and then knighted by his father and taken to Arthur’s court. He was, above all, pure, and it was this quality that made it possible for him, of all knights, to succeed in the quest for the Holy Grail. Galahad appears in Arthurian lore in a thirteenth-century French cycle of romances. La queste del saint graal (“The Quest for the Holy Grail”). In Sir Thomas Malory’s Le morte d’Arthur, Galahad achieves apotheosis; he is taken up to Heaven.

Guinevere - In the Arthurian romances, including those of Chretien de Troyes, the Welsh historian Geoffrey of Monmouth, and Sir Thomas Malory, Guinevere (Welsh Gwenhwyfar) is the wife of King Arthur and the beloved of Sir Lancelot. There are conflicting tales of Guinevere’s origins. Some traditions hold that she was the daughter of Leodegan, who gave the Round Table to Arthur when the latter married his daughter. Her love for Lancelot led to the disruption of Camelot and the fellowship of the knights of the Round Table, and eventually to Arthur’s death. Some say she married Mordred after Arthur’s death. More often it is said that she retired to a nunnery.

Holy Grail - or Sangreale in Old French, was an important quest object in the Arthurian tradition, particularly connected with Percival, as in the Perceval of Chretien de Troyes (c. 1185) and the slightly later Parfval of Wolfram von Eschenbach. Whatever the original source of the legends of the Grail, Christianity associated it with one of the vessels used by Jesus at the Last Supper.

King Arthur - Legendary British king who appears in a cycle of medieval romances (known as the Matter of Britain) as the sovereign of a knightly fellowship of the Round Table. It is not certain how these legends originated or whether the figure of Arthur was based on a historical person. The legend possibly originated either in Wales or in those parts of northern Britain inhabited by Brythonic-speaking Celts.

Lancelot - The son of King Ban of Benwick or Brittany, Sir Lancelot, or Lancelot of the Lake—so called because he was raised by Vivienne, the mysterious Lady of the Lake, who stole him at birth—was one of the noblest knights of King Arthur’s Round Table. But his love affair with Arthur’s queen, Guinevere, would lead to the downfall of Camelot and the fellowship of knights. Sir Galahad was Lancelot’s son by the Lady Elaine, who tricked him into thinking she was Guinevere and so made love with him. Galahad would succeed in the quest for the Holy Grail where his father had failed. Lancelot rescued Guinevere when she was about to be burned at the stake for adultery. When Guinevere and Lancelot fled to Brittany, Arthur followed them and his illegitimate son or nephew, Mordred, usurped his throne. This led to a war in which both Mordred and Arthur were killed. When Guinevere retired to a nunnery, Lancelot, too, took religious vows. The Lancelot story is found in the works of Chretien de Troyes and Sir Thomas Malory.

Mabinogion - The “Welsh Mabinogion is found in two fourteenth-century manuscripts, the White Book of Rhydderch and the Red Book of Hergest. The collection, based on oral narratives, probably took literary form between the mid-eleventh to the early twelfth centuries.

Malory - Sir Thomas Malory is the fifteenth-century English author of Le Morte d’Arthur, an important compilation of Arthurian material. He is said to have created his great prose work while in prison.

Merlin - Probably has an antecedent in the legendary Scottish and/or Irish mad prophet Myrddin (Merddin). The Welsh historian Geoffrey of Monmouth, in his twelfth-century History of the Kings of Britain, established Merlin’s position as the motivating wizard in the Arthurian legend. It was Merlin who helped arrange for the liaison between Uther and Igraine that would lead to the conception and birth of King Arthur. After Arthur’s birth Merlin took the child to one Hector, this in keeping with the monomythic heroic divine child’s being raised by a menial or commoner. It was Merlin who arranged for the ceremony through which Arthur would prove himself to be the king by removing a sword from a rock. There are many versions of Merlin’s life. It was said by some that he was conceived as a result of the union between a sleeping nun and a demon. In Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur, based on many earlier sources—many of them specifically about Merlin—the magician falls in love with an enchantress, Nimue (perhaps the Lady of the Lake), a femme fatale who imprisons him under a rock.

Welsh Mythology

Has come to us from various sources, all much more directly affected and distorted by time and non-Celtic elements than is the case in the much more isolated Ireland.

There are the two Latin texts especially concerned with the Arthurian legends—the early-ninth-century Historia Brittonum by Nennius and the twelfth-century Historia Regum Britanniae by Geoffrey of Monmouth—and there are, of course, oral sources, including, traditionally, poems questionably attributed to the semi-mythic sixth-century poet-prophet Taliesin, whose Irish equivalent was Amairgen, the poet-warrior.

But Welsh mythology, including the remnants of a pre-Christian Welsh pantheon, is more essentially contained in the “four branches” of a collection of eleven medieval tales known in modern times as the Mabinogion {Mabinogi) and in the various traditions associated with King Arthur.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hi, consuming a lot of media on the topic would be important for your story. These are just a few excerpts from the sources I was able to find, which you can go through in the links above (+ the other references the authors mentioned). Find the right balance between your research and the direction you want your own story to go. Hope this helps with your writing!

[threepandas]

Bad End: Winter's Victory

Cigarettes in this world were different. Odd, I guess. I had never really paid attention to the smell of cigarette smoke, before I ended up here, but I knew it hadn't been? Exactly... well, pleasant? I guess? Not to say that all the ones that existed here WERE, mind you. It was still smokey. The cheap ones an overwhelming incense. They called it "stepping out to pray" for a reason. You ended up smelling like you spent hours in a temple during prayer.

But the smell that lingered here? Clung delicately to cloth and the walls? It was more of a... warm spice. I could never place which ones. There was, yes, a smokey undertone, but? It more or less added to the complex almost taste scent of spices and tea. Dark and rich. Lingering. The sort of thing that takes time to develop.

The entire house was like that. Well, compound really. Austere and ageless, time did not seem to touch the inside of these walls. Did not seem to dare try. It was a blessed relief. A place of respite. All soft, dream-like edges and beautiful gardens. Meandering halls and tasteful, understated art. Peaceful company. Good food and tea.

A lingering smell of smokey spices.

My sister was up to her Protagonist shit again. It was... exhausting. I knew, intellectually, I should be back home. Playing my part. The ever supportive Big Sister archetype. Endlessly kind. Endlessly patient. Supportive to a fault. Smiling and smiling no matter WHAT bullshit nonsense that child pulls. No matter HOW she shames our house or causes trouble I must undo.

But honestly? I can't. I just... can't.

The idiotic little shit SLAPPED A PRINCE. Thank the heavens it wasn't one of the Emperors favorite sons or we'd all be dead, but still! Who the fresh hell taught her that was acceptable?! No. Just.... No.

Let Father deal with this for once. If he insists on spoiling and infantilizing that child? HE can reap the rewards. Her MOTHER can parent for once, instead of sitting around being generically "perfect". I am not there. This is beyond my pay grade. Frankly? I don't even HAVE the power to smooth this over. I could, technically. But not at any cost I'm willing to PAY.

Not for my sister's "she not like other girls", "oh? How interesting", fucking MOMENT.

No WONDER the Elder Sister character disappears in the later half of the royal route, only to turn back up in the palace. She's a freaking Consort! To a letch! Powerful one, yes. But STILL! And all just to protect a sister who not only doesn't notice? But doesn't even attend her wedding?

No.

ABSOLUTELY Not.

I lift the (frankly beautiful) cup of tea I was served to drink while I wait. Breathe in it's rich, soothing scent. Let the steam curl against my face as I stare out the open sliding doors at the fall garden. It borders on too cold for this... but not quite.

The tea is warm. The snacks are warm. I was brought a beautifully embroidered blanket to rest across my lap. Have a robe draped over my shoulders. It is... meditative, almost. Just me and the quiet sigh of vibrant leaves on the breeze. The world muffled. Warm dispite the cold. Ah... the garden really is... so beautiful....

I let it soothe me. Drain away my anger and frustration at the world. Running water, birds in the trees, insects. The silence is so wonderfully full. Alive. I have to keep my mind from bitterly comparing it to constant dramatics filled mess of the gardens at home. Focus on the here and now. This is NICE. Focus on this.

Quiet, near silent footsteps approach. Gait even and steady. Most men his age meander or shuffle, but like the home he keeps? Kaito seems almost untouchable by time. As though not even the Gods dare. I honestly don't blame them. He can be quite commanding when he wishes. Good thing he's rather laid back.

"Come to escape the treasonous?" A modulated voice teases. Wry and dry as salt mines. "Your fool sister is aware that actions have consequences, yes? Or has that idiot father finally succeeded in spoiling her back into infancy? Traditionally, we do not let such young children wander."

Kaito's voice isn't terribly high or husky and low. It is... smooth. Controlled. Like running your fingers across fine fabric. I could honestly listen to him read a phone book and be pleased. He would have made a killing as a voice actor, in my first life. Or reading audio books. Something.

"No retort? Witty defense? Oh dear. You are exhausted, aren't you, my friend?" He noted, dropping the teasing edge. Stepping inside the viewing room and calmly sliding the door shut behind him, I could almost feel him observing me. "When was the last time you slept? Properly. You're a mess, my friend, look utterly exhausted. Has it become that bad?"

Worse actually. They keep doubling down. Doing stupid "girl power!!!1!", poorly thought out, works in a 21th century DEMOCRACY but sure as shit NOT HERE, so called "power moves". I was? So, so fucking tired. Legitimately scared for the servants at this point. Because, honestly? Let stupid reap it's own reward. I TRIED. I was dismissed and ignored. Taken for granted.

Accused of JEALOUSY!

Like? Oh, HELL NO. I know exactly where THAT train of thought ends. I've read enough of the Genre to cut THAT shit off at the pass. Not Today, Satan!

So? Fuck um. I Tried. But I REFUSE to set myself ablaze to keep the ungrateful warm. Especially when they have both coats and just want to roast marshmallows. But... the SERVANTS? They are innocent. Wrong house, shit masters. Half are basically indentured! Much to my outrage.

We HAVE the funds to pay them better. But do I control those funds? Dispite doing ALL THE WORK? Managing the House? No. Of course not. THAT would be Protagonist's mother. And we really need that money for more jewelry and pretty outfits for her daughter. Fuck the household, I guess.

Things are... likely to get bad.

Because I have made the painful, painful choice? To let GO.

I can't keep holding up the house. I am NOT Atlas. Was not granted a second chance, just to throw it away. But at the same time? The servants. Not the enabling, vindictive, lapdogs that circle my family like vultures. The ACTUAL servants. Gardeners, cooks, maids. The no one's that they will not remember.

Somebody has to protect THEM. It must be me. Or no one else WILL.

I'm hoping Kaito will help.

Please, heavens, let this be enough to help. Then... THEN I can figure out how to protect myself. Hopefully. Maybe. Though I am probably running quickly out of time.

"Dear one, are you with me? You are drifting. I need you to come back. Focus on me. The sound of my voice. Can you hear me? Do you see the leaves? Focus on their color. See the reds and yellows beyond them. Like fire, is it not? Can you smell the tea? Dear one, what kind is it? Come here. Back to your body. That's right..."

Smooth and soothing. Closer then what felt like a blink ago. Huh. Yes. The leaves are quite lovely, aren't they? And... and this is red cliff, first harvest, right? Ah. I'm still so bad at telling certain types of tea apart. How mean. He knows this.

.....my brain feels mushy. But back in my body. I manage to scrounge up the edges of a smile. Gods, I am so tired. Worn so thin. But I... I can't rest. Not yet. Kaito kneels beside me, too dignified and reserved to show the full weight of his concern. But it practically howls from his body language. The sheer closeness he has allowed. I must have truely scared him there.

I would tease him, about using my notoriously bad memory of frankly near identical teas against me... but I just... just can't.

There isn't enough energy left in me. I think the soothing nature of his home, his company, has been my undoing. My brain has finally declared me safe enough to break down. Ha ha... perhaps that is why I've been avoiding coming here for so long. I knew I would break down. Would not want to leave.

Unspeakably rude of me.

"The rumors have not done the situation justice, it seems. You seem at your wits end. My dear, you cannot continue like this. Please, let me help. I realize it is overstepping any number of boundaries... but..." the weight of his concern; the words he was struggling to find, to phrase the unkind more palatably, hung between us. "Please, my friend. You are struggling. I can not bear it."

I felt exhausted tears well up. Days of being overwhelmed. Threatened on all sides. Wondering if today would be the day, that the royal gaurds kicked down our gates and executed us all. Struggling against the blindly arrogant and willful actions of my family. The very SAME family that treated me as more of a secretary then as any kind of kin.

Where would I be? If I had not met Kaito, all those years ago? Visiting his cousin, who was marrying a friend of my cousin. Even then, I was desperately trying to keep the name of our family from being filth. My father could not tear himself away from the whims of my sister or his pretty new wife. My grandmother somehow uncaring, tyrannical and doting, indulgent and yet strict.

I was the ONLY ONE who could and WOULD bother to represent us.

Was called frivolous and silly for it. For "seeking parties" to go "play at". As though it was not stressful. As though it was not far beyond my training and skills. Only the concerned eyes of cousins from other houses and guidance of matriarchs from BETTER houses, let me survive at ALL.

Grandmother still does not understand why she no longer gets invitations. Why her name is mud in the eyes of other elders. They did not take kindly, to her abandoning her granddaughter to do HER and HER DAUGHTER-IN-LAW'S job for them. But... there I was. Doing my best. Decorated like a little doll, uncomfortable and quite.

Kaito didn't even need to speak to me. Would never have approached such a nervous, unchaperoned child. Forget being simply a young unmarried girl. I was quite LITERALLY a girl. A child. He never would have so much a acknowledged my existence normally. It simply wasn't done. He was after all, an unmarried man of considerable power.

Still is.

But he needed to speak with his cousin. Who, quite rudely, would NOT take a hint. Too wrapped up in his new bride. Thus forcing Kaito to come over. Bless him, he still tried to politely ignore me. So as not to put pressure on a nervous child. But, once again, Cousin Dense As A Brick struck. Introduced us before merrily swanning off to go talk with friends, taking his wife, my cousin, and ONLY CHAPERONE with him.

We were both baffled and aghast. Horrified. It was the sort of gods awful that somehow found its way back around to being funny. Granted, only because we were in a highly visible location surround by other part goers. But still. Why don't you just? Pick me up and dump me in his LAP next? Good gods man.

Needless to say? The roasting was merciless and immediate. He escorted me to a friend of his. Terrifying woman. We had a grand time roasting terrible behavior and I learned SO MUCH. They were Hilarious. Clearly appreciated having an audience who could actually grasp their sense of humor. I left with letter buddies.

Acquaintances that became friends.

Kaito became my single BEST friend. A refuge, a mentor, a confidant. I trusted... TRUST, the man more then any single soul I've ever met. It helps, I guess, that he meets me where I AM not where he assumes I SHOULD be. Doesn't baby me. Infantalize me. Nor does he treat me in any way that would set off a "creep" alarm in my head. He's just... Kaito.

All cunning eyes and slight smiles, dry humor and cutting wit. Ever the rougish yet refined strategist. Bad boy of the highly polite. All the high court ladies still sigh over him.

Grey eyes that bordered on black filled my vision. That whisp of soft silver hair that never wanted to stay put, forever falling across his brow. My view of the garden cut off. When had he moved? Had I drifted back into my head again? It seemed so.

This close, I could not help but notice his eyelashes were still the rich dark of his youth. Few strands of silver yet touching his eyebrows. He'd had a beautiful shade of black hair it seems. It was rather striking....

A pinch on the back of my hand. Bright pain lancing through the fog. Kaito's hands cupped mine, kept me from jostling my cup. Stopping me from dropping now cold tea into my lap. Taking it from me gently, he set it aside. Thumb rubbing the skin he had abused. His face was apologetic.

"And that marks the second time you've drifted away on me, dear. I'm afraid I'm no longer asking. I'm will be helping. This is entirely unacceptable. What in the gods name have those idiots done to you?" His voice was soft. Attention focused on me. I felt... felt so very fragile.

Not weak. Fragile. Like glass under strain. Bones near their breaking point. That final support beam struggling with weight beyond its abilities to bear. He was treating me like I was wounded. Was I? Perhaps I was. I certainly felt that way.

I just... just wanted someone ELSE to take care of it all.

Just for a bit.

Was that so wrong?

I was TIRED. Felt the tears coming back. Here I was, coming to a dear friend, about to ask him to take on a burden for me. Risk enraged royalty just to protect the innocent. Being unspeakably emotional and RUDE. And I... and I... I just....

"Shhhhh. None of this. You've done so much. Have been so, so brave, my girl. No more. It's alright. I'm here. I'll take care of everything." He soothed. Soft and unbearably kind. All I could do was nod. Agree. "There we are, good girl. You'll stay here for now, all right? No more stressful journeys to that house. I'll send someone to gather your things. We can have everything dealt with after a rest."

His hands, boldly, came up to cup my cheeks. I found I didn't care. It felt nice. His palms warm and dry, gently cradling.

I wouldn't be able to stay. He knew that. I knew that. It simply WAS. We weren't related, weren't married. I had brought no chaperone. I... gods, I wanted too. Badly. But I couldn't. I just needed help with the servants. Told him as much. Words rambled disjointedly between us as I struggled to get them all out.

"Ah, but the solution then is simple, isn't it?" He said, looking almost amused. "You just need to marry me."

Blinking, the thought didn't quite process. My confusion clear enough on my face for him to continue.

"Every time I see you, you are suffering some fresh new indignity from that house. Some brand new insult. Isn't it better here? I know you enjoy it. The servants adore you. I adore you." The hands on my cheeks shifted, just slightly, barely daring to let their thumbs stroke just slightly."

"I would give you everything, dearest."

This... did not feel political. Nor some ploy to just protect the servants, offered by a dear friend. When... when had things changed? I knew for a fact, he held no such interests in me as a child. I'd seen him kill a man over the mere suspicion of such things. Yet... it's also not like I'd grown UP in front of him. We talked mostly over letters.

It was harder to remember my physical age through those. Since I didn't exactly talk or write like the child I had appeared. And talking to each other, being friends with each other, for going on a decade... certainly WAS a good foundation for a relationship, wasn't it? I didn't know any more. How old... how old even was I?

His hands were so warm.

Felt strong and reliable, cupping my face. A reserved and refined (if a bit mischievous), pillar of strength that I could finally lean on. Offering up a tempting dream world where I wouldn't have to think anymore. Wouldn't have to deal with troubles or reality. Just... just endless, beautiful, painting-like peace and serenity.

No more drama... ever again.

Wouldn't that be nice?

Didn't I deserve to rest?

Who else, really, could I even see myself marrying? Realistically? Some untested lout? Character suspect and temperament unknown? What prospects, what LOYALTY, could they even offer? Would they even respect my boundaries? Could they ever hope to match his knowledge of my likes and dislikes? Could... could I ever hope to TRUST them? Like I did, Kaito?

I felt my expression soften. Decided to be a little bold too. Leaning forward, I let my hands come up to lightly grip his arms. Still so corded with muscles. The man never did skip out on his training, be it archery or swordsmenship. My forhead rest lightly against his, that wayward strand tickling my skin just a bit. His breath smelled of those smokey spiced cigarettes while his skin, which I had never dared take note of, smelled of daily things.

He held so perfectly still, as though afraid to spook me. Seemed startled by my boldness. How cute~

I couldn't stop the grin if I tried.

"Yes, yes, mock the old man. Impertinent minx. So scandalous!" He teased, finally unfreezing after gathering his thoughts. That plotting spark back in his eyes. "Whatever shall I do? My guest takes advantage of me! Oh dear, oh no~ I fear for my honor! You will have to make an honest man of me, I'm afraid."

The laugh burst out of me, feeling a lot like relief. Gods, I'd missed this. Just... just sass and light hearted teasing. Droll humor and wit. No nightmare politics or angry royals. No trying to manage the unmanageable. Not responsible for any but myself. Yes... yes this was exactly what I needed, wasn't it?

Honestly? FUCK the Plot. FUCK the Protagonist and her nightmare social blunders! I was gonna get OUT of that house. Live for ME. Marry a nice, reliable man. Have a beautiful home. Maybe get some pets. Eat snacks! Laze about and enjoy the gardens! Have some gods damned PEACE for once! It sounded perfect.

I told Kaito there were no take backs. Congratulations on the terrible idea! I was HIS problem now. Have fun with your new, future in-laws!

Laughter was the best thing I'd felt in weeks. One of the maids I liked was already on standby and ready to lead me to a guest room. We bickered light heartedly, him groaning in exaggerated ways about his TERRIBLE fate of having to deal with IDIOTS! Oh, Darling, how COULD you?! Ha! Suffer.

It... gods, it was beautiful. Dreamlike. A perfect, story book solution to my woes.

Really, if I did not TRUST Kaito so much? I would have been suspicious.

But I did.

So I left with the maid, a smile on my face. Relieved. Happy. Engaged to a "good man". The most TRUSTWORTHY man I knew.

Thus, did not see, like a mask, his expression slide away. His open body language close off, like then slamming of a crypt door, locking the dead back inside. The warmth draining from the room as I left it, as though I had taken every trace with me. Leaving only the cold, cold THING behind. One that wore the face of a man.

A handsome man, yes, but an empty one.

One that was Not Pleased.

"I distinctly recall," his voice cutting the silence like an assassin slitting a throat, sudden and violent yet just as impersonal. "That I ordered her not to be bothered. For you to get rid of that... thing, in a timely manner."

Shadows dropped from the roof. Then too their knees. Kneeling, loyal unto death, before the one that commands them. Many are injured. They do not shake, for all that they have failed. Will likely die for it.

"Give me one good reason to let you live. A single one." The empire's spy master, the Winter Ghost, asks the room at large. Picking up his beloved's tea cup, considering it as he talks. He almost wants to destroy it. So no one else can ever use it. Touch it with their filthy hands. "Well?"

His assassins continue to kneel. Silent. There is no defense for their failure.

Three die instantly, the rest are not so lucky.

He decides to keep the cup.

Running his thumb along the rim where her mouth touched it, he steps out, closer to the garden and slides the door shut. It truely is a lovely view. Behind him, his servants behind the familiar work of cleaning up. Kneeling in the dirt before him, the next set of assassins.

"Let me make my self clear this time. I don't care how you do it, how painful or how slow, but they are to be gone by the time I am wed, understood? If that useless chit or her idiot father darken my door, you will long for the mercy that is death. Get out. And do not DARE fail me."

A quite chorus of confirmation, then like leaves... scattered on the wind.

He was named winter victory. For his mother's success in seizing control of her poor, late, husband's house. Born into the cold, it has always remained. Is it any suprise he covets warmth? In any form he can have it. Every form.

A pity though... that he won't be needing his plans.

She would have made a beautiful widow.

[osiiiris]

2025 is Meliora’s 10th anniversary and I’m not going to be quiet about it.

Recently, I’ve been focusing a lot (…again 😅) on the cultural movements that inspired the entire Meliora era, especially Futurism.

Knowing from Bishop Necropolitus Cracoviensis II that Terzo studied the Futurist manifestos during his formative years in Krakow (most likely Marinetti’s), I like to believe that the main inspiration for Meliora’s aesthetic came from the architectural drawings of Antonio Sant’Elia. The parallels between Filippo Tommaso Marinetti and Antonio Sant’Elia with Terzo and Necropolitus are quite evident:

(...) We would sit down to studying exciting Futurist manifestos, sketched the blueprints of utopian metropoles, spiked with shiny skyscrapers stabbing at the heavens belly... Wantonly swollen zeppelins would to carry our gospel of indulgence to the farthest corners of the globe to summon and enslave.

BP Necropolitus

We had stayed up all night, my friends and I, under hanging mosque lamps with domes of filigreed brass, domes starred like our spirits, shining like them with the prisoned radiance of electric hearts. (…) Alone with stokers feeding the hellish fires of great ships, alone with the black spectres who grope in the red-hot bellies of locomotives launched on their crazy courses, alone with drunkards reeling like wounded birds along the city walls.

F.T. Marinetti - Manifesto of Futurism

Easy to imagine Terzo and Necropolitus—half stoned, half dazed, and inexorably intoxicated by a party that had been going on for hours—retracing, for the hundredth time, the highlights of the Futurist Manifestos they had read over and over, fervently discussing the future and the modernity they dreamed of bringing with his papacy.

Sant’Elia was a contemporary of Marinetti, fathers of the Futurist movement, and his Manifesto for Futurist architecture shares much of Terzo’s vision for Meliora, the city he created.

Each generation will have to build its own cities. Sant’Elia said.

that, just as the ancients drew their inspiration from natural elements, we – materially and spiritually artificial – must find our inspiration in the new mechanical world we have created, and our architecture must be its most beautiful expression, its most complete synthesis, its most effective integration; (…) by architecture, I mean the effort to freely and audaciously harmonise man with his environment, that is, to make the material world a direct projection of the spiritual world; 

A. Sant’Elia - Manifesto of Futurist architecture

(...) Forged in nostalgia of steam and fire, this brave new world of ambition, vice, lust and greed - all so inherent to the enlightened modernity, was always with him through all these years.

BP Necropolitus

The Futurist movement embraced all forms of art, from painting and sculpture to architecture, music, and literature. It was characterized by a burning hatred for the past, which they wished to destroy, and a glorification of machinery, new technologies (we’re talking about first 20 years of 900), dynamism, speed, modernity, and rebellion. Nothing was meant to stay still, everything had to move, transform, evolve… very much in line with what Terzo seemed to believe.

But there was a downside. The original Italian Futurism became closely tied to fascism. It also celebrated violence and war, seen as tools to “clean up” and make space for the new. Most of the founding artists died in a war (World War I) that they had glorified and willingly taken part in. And when the dictator fell, so did the Futurist movement.

The lives of these artists were brief, but they remained true to their ideals, for better or worse, from beginning to end.

Erect on the summit of the world, once again we hurl defiance to the stars!

F.T. Marinetti - Manifesto of Futurism

At this point, I’d like to explore the association between the shapes in Futurist painting and the shapes of Terzo’s face paint, slipping swiftly into Cubism and Piet Mondrian’s simplification of form as a parallel to Terzo’s geometric, minimalist design… but that’s a story for another time.

[joy-crimes]

Dear Mother and Father, I hope this message finds you in good health. I am writing to inform you that the glass you gifted me last christmas, unfortunately, has shattered into 18 fucktillion pieces. It was knocked onto the floor due to my lack of attention while drawing “yuri”.

My illustration required a great deal of concentration, and in absence of mind, I accidentally dropped the cup like 3 feet, causing it to explode on impact. While the sequence of events is quite regrettable, I find myself pondering a metaphor presented to me in whole in this act.

Perhaps there is no greater example than how that of creation can only exist in tandem with destruction. In order for beauty to enter the world, It must leave someplace else, as though a poet dragged their heavenly muse down to earth. making heaven seem bleaker in comparison. When we try to capture paradise, in our minds and hearts, do we not also rob it of that which it should be? An unknowable existence far from our own? I believe the answer should be clear. We must strive to create what heaven we can on earth, through art and song.

While it may rob us of light in a future life, I would like to ponder that perhaps it is best to focus on what is in front of us now, if only to keep striving for the unreachable goal. A world that could be called perfection.

Sincerely,

Dolp

[twisted-whatifs]

A Twisted Phantom In the Opera

Christine!Yuu x Phantom!Malleus, Phantom of the Opera AU.

Notes: I have tried to keep this as a gn!Yuu, but might have messed up a few places. If you find any mistakes don’t fear pointing them out! It will only help <3 -Love Aren ♡

Summary: Yuu Daaé, a young actor who has been showing lots of talent ever since they got this mystery teacher, has gone missing. While the rest are busy panicking, as letters are being sent around threatening the new owners, letters which have been signed by a certain phantom... Yuu is busy finally seeing their teacher and angel of music, rather than communicating through mirrors and walls.  They end up getting to know him a lot better than they expected, finding out that while he may not be an angel of music, he is certainly not human either.

Will this phantom of the opera win over their heart like he always dreamt of? Or is their type a bit too human for him?

Intro

Yuu 1st person

It all started when I was but a child, I suppose. My father, who was so dear to me, was lying on his deathbed. When my mother left for the heavens, I had my father's hand to hold. Now that it was my father's turn, I still had his hand to hold. But when his funeral came, whose hand could I hold then?

“When I’m in heaven, Child. I will send the Angel of Music to you..” He said. His voice was weak, his hand shaking as he held me close. He was all I had left, and there was no one when he went. No one at first, at least. Then Madame Giry took me in, and taught me how to dance. I was now one of the many girls at the opera house, who got a place to live in exchange for our labour. And so I danced. I danced and I sang, just like my father and I used to, just like my father and mother used to as well. As I grew, my fathers promise was finally fulfilled. One afternoon when I was singing by my fathers picture, right after the biggest play I had ever been part of at the time, I heard a voice.

“A voice of such beauty should not sing songs of such pain.” I heard a voice say. At first, I was frightened, for I thought I was alone. But as I sought out this stranger, he began to sing. He asked me to sing with him, coaxing me away from fear. He gave me pointers and taught me how to avoid strain on my vocals. As time went on, he disappeared. Yet the next time I returned to light a candle for my father and I began to sing, I heard him again. He asked for me to sing with him, so I did. He taught me much this day, and so did he the next. Before I knew it, he had become my teacher. 

“Father once spoke of an angel. I used to dream he’d appear. Now as I sing I can sense him and I know he’s here.” One day I finally realised that he must be the Angel of Music my father had spoken of. He had to be, for he was so kind. He taught me the art of song like no other, with the passion of one who could only be an angel. His voice was of ethereal beauty. He must be an angel, for he could make even a whisper sound like the melodies of heaven.

But now, as I stand here, I realise he may not be the angel I used to see. Perhaps he is, but there is something to him that tells me other stories. He is my angel, yes. My Angel of Music. But he is also so much more.

Let the Song Take Flight

Yuu 1st person

As I stood on the stage, singing with my heart, I couldn’t help but hope he saw. I wished for nothing more than the Angel of Music to be proud. But what was more than that, I hoped I had not disappointed Madame Giry. She was the one who had claimed I could take the role, as Carlotta had been too busy throwing a tantrum. And now I stand in the Prima Donna dressing room after Meg had swept me away from meeting up with my teacher. She had been worried and said I looked so pale, that I needed to rest. I wanted to resist, but I had to admit that perhaps it was best if I didn’t strain myself. I was sure my teacher and angel would understand.

“Little Lotte, let their mind wander…” I am busy looking at the rose my teacher had gifted me when I hear the words of a childhood memory get spoken. I turn my head to see where it came from, not having expected Raoul to remember me. I haven't seen him since my father's death, so for him to remember such a small thing, is a surprise.  As Raoul continues to speak the words of nostalgia, I can not help but join in. For such words are not made to be forgotten. No, they are made to be remembered, repeated and sung. So I will sing.

“No… What I love best, Little Lotte said, is when I’m asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head.” I sing with him, melodies of shared memories flowing between our bodies. A warm embrace engulfs me as we hug, arms wrapping around each other, even if for only but a moment. He is still my friend, despite the years that have gone by. Not much has changed between us, that is obvious. Perhaps too obvious, for it seems that Raoul still acts like a child, to some extent. For he does not accept my no, as he invites me out to supper. Nor does he let me deny his request, as he tells me I have two minutes to get dressed.  I can only hope the Angel of Music will forgive me, for I have no choice it seems. I begin to change, hurrying as much as I can. I know how impatient that man can get. And perhaps if I hurry, I’ll be back fast as well.

So I change as fast as I can, yet as I work to undo my corset, every candle in my room is unlit. A darkness that surrounds me like no other. Terrifying it is, that I have to admit. But what is truly terrifying, is the angry voice of my teacher and Angel of Music that I hear.

Insolent boy, he calls Raoul, and perhaps he is right, yet it frightens me nonetheless. 

The words I utter that are meant to calm him, seem to have little effect. Yet as I continue to speak, the icy air seems to thaw. His words turn from threats to pitiful self-hatred. 

Jealousy has never suited any man and it seems the same goes for angels. For his voice is beautiful, yet the jealousy and anger it hides dirties it. To hear his voice soften is like watching mud turn to crystal-clear water. It is beautiful, a miracle for humans to witness. As he begs me forth, telling me to look in the mirror, I feel a sort of relief. He must no longer be mad if he seeks to speak with me. 

Yet my relief is thrown to the side, as shock finds its way to my mind. For what I find in the mirror is not my reflection but a strange man, yet as I hear his voice I know it must be him. My Teacher and Angel. 

The Angel of Music that hides no longer.

I faintly hear the sounds of Raoul trying to enter my locked dressing room, yet I do not mind it. Even though I may not remember locking the door, any worries I hold disappear as I let him hold my hand. I hear him sing as he leads me through the tunnels of this opera house, tunnels I did not know existed before this day. I am like in a trance, my eyes unable to move away from his form. Anywhere that is not him does not deserve my gaze, that is all I can think. In fact, I barely even register the horse.  In any other situation, I would have wondered how he managed to get a horse into these tunnels, yet at this very moment, it did not seem strange. In fact, it is not until I start to sing, that I finally seem to realise what is happening. Yet instead of being frightened or confused, I am… content? I don’t mind this, I realise. In fact, it somehow feels right. To finally see my Angel of Music, after years of him talking to me, and teaching me. It was surprisingly nice.

So when we finally arrive at his home, or at least what I assume to be his home, I do not mind it. I do not mind the strangeness to it, or the fact we had to sail to get here. I do not question the fact that he lives in the sewers beneath the opera house either. Instead, I just accept it. This is him finally showing me who he is, so I shall make sure he knows that I will not run away.

“I have waited for so long, dreaming of the day you will finally see who I truly am.” He hums, embracing me from behind, as his fingers entwine with mine. I let myself lean back against his chest, his form towering over mine. I tilt my head to look up at him, my eyes catching his. He is ethereal, otherworldly. He holds a beauty that is unmatched. Everything about him tells me just who he is. Just the way he stands practically sings power.

Everything about him makes me want to know more. And so, I can not help but ask. For it is in my nature to be curious, even more so when it comes to him. Years I have spent getting to know him, yet it feels like I am just meeting him all over again.

“Long I have waited to see you, rather than just hear you. Yet now, I am left with more questions than answers.” My voice is barely above a whisper and despite this he still catches every word that I say. 

It seems that his attention is purely on me. For he hears every word I say, all the while his hands caress every inch of my skin. My one hand escapes his, coming up to caress his face. The mask that he bears peaks my curiosity, for why would an angel need to wear such a thing? Even more so, I wonder why he would wear a hood in such a private place. Yet I have so many other questions to ask as well, for he is a mystery to me. I have always thought that I knew him, yet at this moment I realise he is still so unknown to me. He is like the vast unexplored seas that make me want to jump on a ship and leave. To see just what I may find, what treasures I may stumble across, what stories will unwind.

His eyes capture mine again, as I get lost in the green of his irises. For a second I feel that I am wandering some forest of the fae realm, before I return to the real world again. Yet again I am convinced he is an angel, for only an angel would have eyes like his.

“Let me show you something, my muse. Perhaps your questions will be answered.” My thoughts are interrupted and perhaps it is on purpose, for it seems that he knows my mind was wandering. His hands trace across my collarbone before he lowers them to the small of my back, leading me forward to show me this mystery thing.

It is like my feet barely touch the ground, as I follow him. His one hand grasping mine as he leads me forward, his other hand gently resting on my back.

As he leads me toward a curtain, I patiently wait for him to reveal what is behind. Despite the excitement that vibrates throughout my bones, once I see what is behind the curtain, I feel faint.

Hidden behind this curtain, is a mannequin that looks exactly like me. And what’s more, this mannequin is wearing some sort of wedding attire. The thought is sweet, that I have to admit, but it is too much. 

The world around me goes dark, and my legs can no longer keep me up.

Signed the Opera Ghost

Malleus 1st person

My hands barely grasp my muse in time, before they hit the ground. I had not expected them to faint at what I had shown them, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it. Oh, how I hope they are okay. I lift them up in my arms, carrying them up into my room. As I look at them, I can not help but admire the piece of artwork that is their face. How a human can be so otherworldly, I can not say.

I gently place them in my bed, before pulling down the canopy around them. It is best if I let them sleep in peace. I can just practice some music while I wait for them to return to consciousness.  I decide to let my monkey musical box play for them while I wait, in hopes that the tune it plays will keep them calm.

So I leave them to lay in my bed, watching their sleeping form for but a moment, before I leave again. The organ that calls to be played, lures me out of the room. 

But before I let myself get carried away with such things, even if it may be what I love, I know it is best I send out a few letters explaining that Daaé is alright. I can not have people worrying, after all. No, that would risk having my dear muse get stressed, and I can not let that happen. So I will construct some letters, explaining what has gone down. I will write letters telling the new owners how things are supposed to be run around here and perhaps, if they are not fools, they will listen.

After an hour of writing, I finally let myself sit down by the organ to play, letting my heart come out and on display. As my fingers find their way to the giant instrument, I let myself compose a new opus. It is still but a work in progress, yet I know that with some fine-tuning, it will be beautiful.

And so I play, for minutes or hours I do not know. My mind is lost in the music, too distracted to notice the form that creeps up behind me. Only do I notice once I feel a soft hand on my shoulder. I turn my head to them, the beautiful Yuu that has captured my heart. Smooth skin that brushes against mine, caresses and gentle touches. Their hands that grace me like I am some delicate flower, yet also someone to be held.

Fingers that mould against my cheek, a palm that warms my cold body. Their hands play the role of my mask, holding me so protectively. In their hands I feel safe, something in which I am not used to. Perhaps I never will be. For as I let myself lean into the touch and enjoy the warmth, I feel something is wrong. I move faster than I have ever let a human see before, my hands reaching for my hood. Atop my head, which is usually hidden by a hood made of silk. But now as I reach to check if it is still in place, I find it to be missing. Instead, my hands find the smooth surface of my horns, cold to the touch, usually hidden.

An instant dread fills my heart, for a moment all I can see is red. For I had trusted them, I had trusted the child of man and it was a mistake. A mistake that I will have to pay for, it seems. All I can do now is wait for them to scream and run away, or beg for mercy. I was foolish for thinking them different, of course, they are not. All humans are the same, curious little creatures. They seek to know what is not their right to know, with no mind of consequences.

“Is this what you wanted to see?” The rage in my mind unlike any other, for I had trusted them. Had this been anyone else, I would have been saddened yes, but it would not have hurt. With them this feels like a betrayal, for they are dear to me. So hopefully they will forgive me for cursing, for yelling and frightening them. For even if they angered me, no person should be belittled like that.  Perhaps they are wrong in what they have done, but so am I. That is something I realise as I see the look on their face. The fear written across their face, written in every one of their tears. 

“Can you even dare to look, or bear to think of me? This loathsome gargoyle…” Explosive anger that is turning into sombre whispers and saddening thoughts. For I hurt them, I hurt the child of man, my muse. I hurt my Yuu, my Yuu Daaé. 

I am so lost in my self-wallowing thoughts that I barely notice the hesitant hands that help me put up my hood, as I struggle to do so myself. Yet again I am stricken with the feeling of guilt, as I see the way they try to help. They truly meant no harm, that much I can see. That much I should have seen from the start, for I know they are kind. Oh, so very kind.

“Who seems to be a beast but secretly dreams of beauty…” My voice wanders off, as I try to find a way to apologise, to find the right way to express everything in my mind.  Yet, instead of finding an apology, other words seem to leave my mouth. My lips spelling out the letters and my tongue pushing them past my teeth. I tell them we should get them back, as I know they can’t possibly wish to be around me any longer. Who would want to be around such a monster? Who would want to stay near the infernal beast that I am?

I help them to their feet as I prepare for us to leave. They should go back home, and far away from me. I want them to be safe, truly I do. More so than that, I know staying around me is not anywhere near safe. They must know that too. If they did not know that before, they certainly do now.

“Those fools who run my theatre will be missing you.” I try to encourage them, as they make no move to leave. It would be too selfish of me to make them stay, I know that. So why are they making no move to leave? 

The way they watch me, at first I thought it to be a look of fear. But now, now I see it is something else. Their gaze that screams pity. Sorrow is etched into their very essence as they stare.

Their hand that grasps mine is soft, a shock that runs through my body stopping me from pulling away. A shiver that runs down my spine, as they say words I have never heard before. 

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

One Love One Lifetime

Yuu 1st person

The words I speak are the truth, despite the suddenness of them. And if my words do not convince him, then I hope my actions do. For I hold him close, his hands in mine. I let him see me for who I am, and not who he thought I was before. Yes, I did something bad. I should not have pulled down his hood when he was so obviously hiding something, yet I could not help it.

But his reaction told me everything I needed to know, I had gone and ignored a boundary that should have been respected. For that, I will feel internally bad. He holds my heart so dear to him and yet when he gave his heart to me, I just dropped it like nothing. But even though I know I was in the wrong, it does not seem that he thinks so. In fact, the guilt I see in his eyes is practically eating me alive. So I speak the words of forgiveness, for I truly do forgive him. I forgive him for getting mad, not because I believe he’s at fault though. Because I believe it is what he needs to hear.

“But please, forgive me. If anyone is at fault, it is I.” My whispered apology is met with soft silence, looking up and into his eyes, regret filling every fibre of my body. I let one hand trail up to hesitantly cup his cheek, feeling his cold skin meld against mine. It seems that he still holds my heart, keeping it safe from danger. Even the danger that is me.

“You trusted me and I… I broke that trust. For your forgiveness I am unworthy, yet I will still pray you try to forgive me.” I have never been one to beg, yet for a moment I consider it. But despite my thoughts, it seems he holds mercy dear. For his face seems to soften, almost lighting up. A small tug at the corner of his mouth, before it returns to its usual solemn state. Despite this, I know he is not mad. Perhaps he is not even sad. I let my spirits get lifted at this thought, as I properly look at him again, taking in the beauty he holds.

Why would such a man ever trust me? Let me near him, sleep in his bed? How could I ever be enough to someone as perfect as him?

“Forgiveness is not something you should ask for, child of man. It is something that has already been given a long time ago.” The voice that is his echoes throughout the room, yet what should sound ominous only sounds like peace to me. For I was finally given peace, knowing he did not hate me. I can't help myself from throwing my arms around him, embracing his taller form. I could feel him almost freeze in my hold. But as I begin to pull away, realising my inappropriate act, he pulls me against him. His arms surround my body tightly like he fears that should he let go, I will disappear.

“I have one final question for you.” The drip of water almost drowning out his voice, making it hard for me to hear, with how low his voice is. Yet I manage to hear his every word. Just one question, I wonder. For I would answer a million, should he ever have that many to ask. Yet I do not deny his request, instead waiting for him to tell me what he wishes to say. I do not know what he wishes from me, but I would say yes to anything. For when he is there, nothing is impossible.

“Will you reach the final threshold and stay with me? That’s all I ask of you, my muse.” His voice but a whisper, yet it still reaches my ears. I can tell he doubts if it is a good idea to ask, yet he does it anyway. For a second I find it brave. My eyes go wide as I pull back to see his face, once I finally register what he said. I needed to see if he meant this, if he truly meant every word he said, or if he was playing some cruel joke. Yet what I see is not the face of amusement or mischief, instead it is one of unsure seriousness. It’s a nervous face, yet not a single twist of his expression shows any cruelty.

A soft smile spreads across my lips as I look up at him, realising he means it. He must truly wish for it. And I can not help but consider every option I have. He means so much to me. He has been there for me for so long, teaching me the art of music like no other. He gave back life to me, he gave back a joy I thought I had lost that day I watched my father get lowered into the ground. So perhaps I am a bit selfish to want to stay, perhaps I am a bit selfish to wish to leave everyone behind for him, but it didn’t sound bad. In fact, it sounded like what I needed more than anything else.

“My Angel, I love you. Say the word and I will follow you.” Whispers of love flow through the night, like music. Small little melodies that take flight. So when he utters the words, words of love and admiration, I let myself be swept away by his charm. My hand gently tilts his head down to meet me, as I stand on my toes to meet his lips.

Such a small touch yet such a meaningful act. Two bodies touching so gently, so lost in the love for the other. A kiss so full of devotion, hands coming to grasp at the other, fearing they’ll otherwise get lost. What could be described as a dance for others, is like a song for us. The music is silent yet there, every note and melody so evident in every movement and touch. Soft lips pressed against soft lips, breath coming short. 

But now, as I stand here, I realise he may not be the angel I used to see. Perhaps he is, but there is something to him that tells me other stories.

He is my angel, yes. My Angel of Music. But he is also so much more. For as our lips part and his hood falls down, he does not try to hide his horns. And as my eyes catch his and I see how pupils turn into slits, I know that he is no angel. But that changes nothing, for he is still my Angel of Music.

[glorious-sunset]

Character Names in LBFAD – Meaning and Significance

What’s in a name? For the characters of LBFAD (Love Between Fairy and Devil), a whole lot of hidden meanings! These are not apparent to English viewers. Here are my translations and interpretations of these meanings.

DongFang Qing Cang - 东方青苍: “East, Cyan, Dark blue”

The surname “DongFang” means East, the direction of the rising sun. Both Dongfang Qingcang’s (DFQC) personal terrace at Silent Moon Palace and the replica Arbiter Hall he built for Xiao Lanhua (XLH) face East, and capture the most beautiful sunrises. DFQC (and previous generations of DongFangs) are well-respected by their people and enjoy the best locations and residences in Cangyan Sea.

The “Cang” in DFQC was named for his realm, “Cang” Yan Sea, as he was expected to be its leader and follow the path set for him by his father, and Lady Yan before him. Lady Yan chose to rid herself of emotions in order to wield Hellfire, and DFQC’s father forced the same decision onto him. The hanzi (mandarin character) for “Cang” in DFQC and Cangyan Sea means dark blue, and the darkness of this colour represents the darkness of the path he was expected to follow.

But “Cang” is not the only colour in DFQC’s name! The “Qing” in his name means lighter shades of blue/green, or cyan. And despite his prescribed mission to emotionlessly conquer the three realms, DFQC has many lighter, more peaceful shades to his character that reveal themselves as the series progresses. He forms a friendship and brotherhood with his enemy Changheng, who shares with him a love of playing music, art and cuju! And he rises above the cruel dictator of Shuiyuntian who almost annihilated his people, by sending his people to aid Shuiyuntian.

(The aurora borealis in Cangyan Sea is also cyan and dark blue :D DFQC might have been named for this as well as for Cangyan Sea!)

Xiao Lan Hua - 小兰花: “Little Orchid Flower”

We are first introduced to our female lead as “Xiao Lanhua”, which is not a name, but a description of what she believes her true form to be, a little orchid flower. But this was a disguise given to her by her parents and upheld by Siming. Her real name is Xiyun.

Xi Yun - 息芸: “Every breath”

The character for “Xi” in XLH’s true name is the same as the “Xi” in her realm, “Xishan”, and means breath (of life). Just like DFQC, she is named for her realm, as she was the intended leader of Xishan as its Goddess. The Xilan tribe of Xishan had powerful healing magics, and hers is the most powerful of all, with the ability to resurrect the dead with her blood, thus providing the breath of life. She uses this to great effect, resurrecting DFQC in ep. 26, everyone who died on the battlefield in ep. 31, and freeing the 100,000 sealed soldiers of the Moon Tribe.

The “Yun” in her name meaning every, combined with “Xi” can be interpreted as “every breath”. Sadly, XLH’s every breath is for one purpose and brings her closer to her one destiny. She is fated to sacrifice herself to save the three realms from Taisui. If this had happened, then like Lady Chidi before her, her sacrifice would soon have been forgotten.

Chi Di - 赤地: “Red/Barren Earth”

The “Chi” in Lady Chidi’s name means red, and paired with “Di” meaning earth, can also mean barren earth. She is the only official in Shuiyuntian seen wearing Red, as even the current God of War, Changheng, conforms to the same white and pale blue robes that other officials wear. Chidi is therefore a standout who asserts her individuality and does not conform to expectations. Her way of thinking outside the box, led to DFQC and his 100,000 Moon Tribe soldiers being completely blindsided by her sacrifice 30,000 years ago. It also led to her breaking heaven’s laws to resurrect Ronghao, to her later detriment.

Chidi wields powerful earth magics, as represented by her name. These are so powerful that she is able to seal the 100,000 soldiers of the Moon Tribe within the barren earth of Xuanxu realm. Her mighty Shuofeng sword is also swallowed by the barren earth and her magic cannot be reversed without her primordial spirit.

Xun Feng - 巽风: “Obedient wind”

The “Xun” in Xunfeng means to obey, and the “Feng” means wind. His name can be interpreted as either “obedient to the wind” or an “obedient wind”. Like the wind, Xunfeng lacks substance, confidence and ability, and is disrespected by his people during DFQC’s imprisonment. Many contenders try to steal his position as Moon Supreme, and he almost dies on the Wind Plain until DFQC arrives to save him.

But Xunfeng cares fiercely for his people. In his attempt to protect them, he collaborates with Ronghao without knowing his identity or motivations. He is thus “obedient to the wind” where Ronghao is an unknown and unseen entity, like the wind. Xunfeng is unable to discern that Ronghao is keeping Cangyan Sea in a constant state of civil unrest and tormenting the souls of deceased Moon Tribe members until much later, with DFQC’s help!

Shang Que - 觞阙: “Watchtower”

“Que” meaning watchtower is an apt description for DFQC’s lieutenant and right-hand man. Shangque has many talents suiting him to this role! These include his ability to be stealthy, gather information discreetly, undertake covert missions successfully, act as a powerful defensive force, and a healing one due to his skill with Chinese medicine. Like a watchtower, he kept watch for 30,000 years during DFQC’s absence on all events occurring within the three realms. His loyalty and love for DFQC, whom he views as a brother and whose return he awaited for 30,000 years, are astounding!

 “Shang” paired with “Que” can mean lacking sustenance. This is the state Shangque was in when orphaned as a young boy, and many tried to take advantage of him and his dragon body. If not for DFQC saving him, he would likely have perished from hunger or been murdered :(

Jie Li - 结黎: “Dark knot”

Jieli suffers from much internal torment which is like a dark knot inside her. From the moment she was born, she never knew or received love, and was raised by people who continually exploited her, physically harming her and threatening her life. That she is even capable of loving and caring for others is a miracle! Unlike Shangque, nobody like DFQC ever stepped in to save her and care for her.

Jieli cares deeply for both XLH and Shangque. Her life under threat, she makes some bad choices such as spilling a drop of Chidi’s blood onto the Bone Orchid. This is one of many dark and knotty situations she encounters. Although she soon decides she would rather die than hurt XLH, Dieyi poisons Shangque to force her obedience.

Yun Zhong - 云中: “Among the clouds”

Yunzhong literally lives among the clouds, but his head is also in the clouds. He is very narrow-minded and cannot think outside the box. When XLH does not fit within the eight-class system of Shuiyuntian, he immediately decides she is Moon Tribe (even before the Bone Orchid protects her) without considering other possibilities. He is so strict with Changheng that he would rather execute the most powerful asset to Shuiyuntian (and his brother!!) than tolerate the slightest disobedience! Throughout the series, he is intent on exterminating the Moon Tribe and almost does in ep. 31 on completely false pretences.

Chang Heng - 长珩: “Steadfast bird”

Like the golden bird brooches that the celestials wear to represent their tribe, Changheng is a model citizen of Shuiyuntian. He is steadfast and loyal to his duties and puts these above his personal desires. When trying to rescue XLH from Cangyan Sea in ep. 13, he is honest with her that he cannot break the rules of Shuiyuntian, and only hopes that Yunzhong will be reasonable and lenient towards her! Changheng is far more steadfast and loyal than the average celestial. He is the only one apart from Ronghao to visit Chidi’s grave on her death anniversary, honours his brotherhood with DFQC after returning to the immortal world, and after learning Ronghao’s secret identity, listens to his side of the story.

Dan Yin - 丹音: “Crimson tidings”

Twice, Danyin is the bearer of important news, relaying her visions from the Tianji mirror to the sacrifice of her own desires. First, she tells a wounded and imprisoned Changheng about his wedding to XLH in the mortal realm, causing him to start a mortal tribulation. Then, she tells Yunzhong and the High Council about XLH’s true identity as the Goddess, saving Changheng from execution and leading to his wedding with XLH.

Rong Hao - 容昊: “Vastly compromising”

Ronghao has “one tiny earthly desire”, that his beloved master can live. What he is prepared to do to achieve this includes burning the souls of dead celestials and Moon tribe, massacring the entire Xilan population including their women and children, forcing his master to endure 30,000 years of cruel mortal tribulations and using evil qi to keep her alive. His willingness to vastly compromise both himself and her leaves Lady Chidi aghast.

Die Yi - 蝶衣: “Butterfly costume”

Dieyi is a shape-shifter and the different forms she takes, butterfly or woman, are her costumes, which help her to be sneaky and nefarious.

Xie Wanqing - 谢惋卿: “Withering sigh”

Having forgotten her life as Lady Chidi, Xie Wanqing feels incomplete without knowing why, expressed by her sad sighs. Chidi is forced to endure countless mortal tribulations just like this one and die (wither) repeatedly. In each of these lives she is condemned to be murdered by the one she loves!

Xiao Run - 萧润: “Mournful wealth”

Both Xiao Run and his true self as Changheng come from positions of wealth and noble status. But both of them mourn the loss of freedom that comes from this – although Xiao Run is more of a carefree rebel! :D

Si Ming - 司命: “Arbiter of fate”

Using the power of her position as Arbiter of Fate, Siming has repeatedly defied heaven’s laws and changed fate! She resurrects Ronghao as an immortal, creating a new destiny leaf for him. She released the convicted dragon Chang Yuan and married him. And she instructs DFQC on how to also defy nature’s laws and change destiny! :D

Chang Yuan - 长渊 “Steadfast abyss”

He is the deep abyss that Siming falls into, as in choosing him, she accepts the fate of being imprisoned with him in the Ruins of Myriad Heavens for the rest of eternity. But at least he is steadfastly loyal to her.

Tai Sui - 太岁: “Very Ancient”

This most ancient of tricksters could not be defeated by numerous generations of Goddesses, who merely sealed him beneath Xishan. Over his very long life spanning hundreds of millenia, he has learned to tell whatever lies are needed to manipulate others and ensure his survival.

Here is a link to my article: Location Names in LBFAD – Meaning and Significance

All of my LBFAD articles can be viewed with the tag #lbfad reflections (hyperlinked) and the table of contents to these is here.

[oporotheca]

Thy Kingdom Come (Thy Will Be Done)

pairings: Geto x f!Reader tags: MDNI, former somethings with crazy tension, religious cult leader!suguru, gross misuse of the lord's prayer (if you can't tell by the title) note: because I simply cannot decide how good of an idea my suguru x reader dark southern baptist au is, here's a little preview! pretty please vote in the poll at the end to let me know what you think <3

"Should I go back to a prayer you're more familiar with then?"

He croons, tone mocking as he takes slow, deliberate steps around the space where you stand, hands clasped behind his back.

You swallow hard.

Certainly you have strayed from the religion the two of you had been raised in together, the one he uses now as a foundation for his abhorrent teachings - but the thought of hearing his voice uttering even a singular holy word makes your skin crawl.

There is no part of Suguru Geto that belongs to any god outside of the one he portrays himself as now.

Thus, In your mind, his tongue no longer has any claim to the supplications that had once brought you such comfort.

"Don't you dare."

You whisper, hands clenching into fists at your sides, though you know you could never truly hope to strike the man before you.

He was not your Suguru, but he was Suguru nonetheless.

If only you could just make peace with that fact.

In response to your command (which you both knew was far more akin to a plea than anything else), Geto smiled, a low hum rumbling deep in his chest.

"Come on, my dear, won't you say it with me?"

He urges, voice sweet like honey in a way that reminds you of having the flu.

So saccharine, so soothing, but the taste always brings you right back to memories and experiences that you yearn to someday forget...

Like having a sore throat in your childhood bed, spooned nectar held to your lips while a loving voice urges you to open up.

Or like the feeling of your best friend's mouth on yours, starved and eager in an empty church storeroom that had never once known heat.

Suguru walks in a half circle until he's behind you, footsteps growing ever closer, until-

"Our father, who art in heaven,"

The words echo in your head as his fingers brush slowly over your clothed shoulders before running languidly down your arms - his touch achingly, painfully familiar.

"Hallowed be thy name,"

They're a whisper off his lips as he drags his hands down your sides, bunching up the fabric of your dress with his subtly curving fingertips and causing your breath to catch at the feeling of them pressing faintly into your waist line.

It is familiar.

It is ruinous.

It is everything you were taught to fear, at the hands of the only man you have ever loved.

Christianity was chock-full of irony, and you knew that all too well...

but so, it seemed, were you.

[pharmaciacatholica]

Pope Francis Novena Day 1

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew:

And Jesus came into the quarters of Cesarea Philippi: and he asked his disciples, saying: Whom do men say that the Son of man is? But they said: Some John the Baptist, and other some Elias, and others Jeremias, or one of the prophets. Jesus saith to them: But whom do you say that I am? Simon Peter answered and said: Thou art Christ, the Son of the living God. And Jesus answering said to him: Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-Jona: because flesh and blood hath not revealed it to thee, but my Father who is in heaven. And I say to thee: That thou art Peter; and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. And I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven. And whatsoever thou shalt bind upon earth, it shall be bound also in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth, it shall be loosed also in heaven.

Pause for silent prayer.

Pray one Our Father, one Hail Mary, and one Glory Be

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord. - And let perpetual light shine upon him.

O God, faithful rewarder of souls, grant that your departed servant Pope Francis, whom You made successor of Peter and shepherd of Your Church, may happily enjoy forever in your presence in Heaven the mysteries of Your grace and compassion, which he faithfully ministered on Earth. Through Christ Our Lord. Amen.

[talonabraxas]

“Among all of the ritual prayers, the most powerful is the Pater Noster (Prayer of the Lord). This is a magical prayer of immense power.

“Imagination, Inspiration, and Intuition are the three mandatory paths of initiation.” - Samael Aun Weor

Ptah ☥ Talon Abraxas

The Prayer of the Lord

The Prayer of the Lord, called in Latin “Pater Noster,” is powerful when we recite it in Latin, given the fact that Latin is a Romanic root language of different romance languages, such as Spanish, French, Italian, and Portuguese. We also find Latin words in the English language.

"Pater [Πτα - Ptah] noster, qui es in cælis. Sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in cælo, et in terra. Panem nostrum supersubstantialem da nobis hodie. Et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem. Sed libera nos a malo. Quia tuum est regnum, potentia et gloria in saecula saeculorum. Amen."

"Our Father, which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven: Give us this day our daily bread; And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us; And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil; For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, For ever and ever. Amen."

[nyxshadowhawk]

I Read The Silmarillion So You Don't Have To, Part 12

Previous part.

Chapter 24: Of the Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath In which a mariner embarks on a legendary voyage, and Morgoth is finally defeated.

Eärendil was a mariner That tarried in Arvernien; he built a boat of timber felled in Nimbrethil to journey in. —Bilbo, The Fellowship of the Ring

Alright, everybody! It’s finally time for the Voyage of Eärendil! I’ve been excited for this one. A bit of background, so you understand the significance of this:

Eärendil is the oldest piece of Tolkien’s Middle-earth worldbuilding. He was inspired by a single line in an Old English poem, Crist 1:

Eala earendel, engla beorhtast, ofer middangeard monnum sended, ond soðfæsta sunnan leoma, torht ofer tunglas, þu tida gehwane of sylfum þe symle inlihtes! O Earendel, brightest of angels, over middle-earth sent to men, and a beam of the true sun, brighter than the stars, for all time you always illuminate yourself!

I think this poem identifies Earendel as the rising sun rather than as the evening star, but versions of this same character appear in other Germanic texts, in which he’s related to the evening star. He appears briefly in the Prose Edda under the name Aurvandil:

Wanting to please and reward Groa for her healing, he [Thor] told the story of his return from the north, and how he had waded across the river Elivagar, carrying Aurvandil southwards from Giant Land on his back in a basket. He recounted that one of Aurvandil’s toes had stuck out from the basket and had frozen. Thor broke it off and threw it up into the heavens as a token, making from it the star called Aurvandil’s Toe. (trans. Jesse L. Byock)

Aurvandil/Earendel might have been a Germanic god of the dawn or the planet Venus, similar to Eosphoros, who was reinterpreted as an angel after Christianization.

Tolkien took this idea of Earendel as the evening star, and just ran with it. His first poem about Eärendil is called “Éala Éarendel Engla Beorhtast,” and it describes Éarendel sailing east in a magic ship, chasing the rising sun. The title is the Old English line from Crist 1. Tolkien’s original poem bears some similarities to the “Song of Eärendil” that Bilbo sings in Fellowship. So, in a lot of ways, the story of Eärendil is Tolkien’s most direct tribute to medieval literature. It also pays tribute to the more general mythological motif of a hero on a sea voyage to the Otherworld. I really like how Tolkien took this obscure character mentioned in a few medieval stories, and made him a focal point of his own mythology.

Light of Eärendil by breath-art

With how big of a deal this story is, it’s kind of a shame that it’s so brief in The Silmarillion. But I’ll take what I can get.

Where our story picks back up, Eärendil becomes king of the Havens at the mouth of the Sirion after his parents’ departure. The Havens have become a sort of melting-pot of refugees from the sack of Gondolin, the sack of Doriath, and all the other destroyed kingdoms of Middle-earth. Eärendil marries one of these refugees, an Elf named Elwing. She’s the granddaughter of Beren and Lúthien. They have two half-elf sons, Elros and Elrond (yup, that one). They’re as happy as they can be under the circumstances, but Eärendil is afflicted with that sea-longing that his father had.

Eärendil decides to sail for Valinor, to convince the Valar to do something about Morgoth. Middle-earth is all but doomed at this point, now that all the great kingdoms are a pile of rubble, and desperate times call for desperate measures. Eärendil also hopes to find his parents, who sailed off into the sunset and never came back. With Círdan’s help, he builds a beautiful white ship made of birchwood, with silver sails and golden oars. The ship’s name is Vingilot, “foam-flower.”

When Eärendil sets sail, Elwing sits on the shore and cries, assuming she’ll never see her husband again. And I can hardly blame her. Dude straight-up abandoned his family!

Eärendil’s initial attempt at reaching Valinor does not go well. The sea is full of “shadows and enchantments,” and winds buffet the ship away from the western shore. Eärendil doesn’t find his parents, either. Feeling hopeless and missing his wife, he decides to turn the ship around.

Meanwhile, Maedhros hears that Elwing survived the Second Kinslaying at Doriath, and that she has her grandparents’ Silmaril. Feeling awful for his actions at Doriath, Maedhros decides not to go after the Silmaril this time. But oaths are magical, and you can’t just decide to ignore them. Maedhros and all his brothers are mentally tortured by the knowledge that Elwing has the Silmaril. The brothers begin by sending a strongly-worded letter, demanding that Elwing return it. The people of the Havens refuse to return it, because its magic is part of what’s keeping them safe.

So, what do you think happens? You think the Feanorians are just going to turn away this time? Hahaha nope. Instead we get the Third Kinslaying! It’s “the last and cruelest” of the conflicts caused by the Fëanorian Oath. It’s so brutal that some of the Fëanorians’ own people refuse to slaughter the helpless refugees, and are promptly killed for being traitors. At the end of the battle, only two Fëanorians, Maedhros and Maglor, are left standing. Elros and Elrond are kidnapped, and Elwing throws herself into the sea with the Silmaril.

Ulmo rescues her, turning her into a white bird, with the Silmaril shining on her breast. Elwing flies over the western sea, and finds her husband on his boat. She flies down out of the stormy clouds like a falling star. Eärendil sees the magical bird turn into his wife, and she sleeps in his arms for the first time in years.

Eärendil and Elwing by Kamehame

Eärendil is happy to see his wife again, but devastated to learn about the sack of the Havens and the kidnapping of his sons. Assuming that their sons have been killed, Eärendil and Elwing decide there’s nothing for them in Middle-earth, and try for Valinor again. This time, they have the Silmaril. Eärendil wears it on his forehead, and it shines out over the sea. Its light cuts through all darkness and illusions surrounding Valinor. So, Eärendil succeeds. His ship is the first one to reach Valinor in more than four thousand years.

The Teleri are astonished to see the shining ship sailing out of the West. I can picture it: the light of the Silmaril on the horizon like a mini-dawn, rising from the wrong direction.

Eärendil is the first mortal Man to ever set foot in Valinor. He recognizes the inherent danger in entering Fairyland, so he tells Elwing and his sailors to stay on the ship. This is the point of no return. Elwing won’t let her true love face such peril alone, so she leaps from the ship. Eärendil tells her to wait for him on the shore, and she does, reluctantly.

The Halls of Manwë on the Mountains of the World above Faerie by J.R.R. Tolkien

Valinor appears deserted. Eärendil enters the Noldor’s legendary city (where even the dust is made of diamonds), and finds it completely empty. Everyone is gathered in the Valar’s palace for a festival, just like when Morgoth and Ungoliant came to destroy the Trees. Eärendil calls out in as many languages as he knows, but no one answers him. Finally, he turns back towards the shore, thinking the mission was a waste, when suddenly, a voice calls from the top of the hill:

Hail, Eärendil, of mariners most renowned, the looked for that cometh at unawares, the longed for that cometh beyond hope! Hail Eärendil, bearer of light before the Sun and Moon! Splendour of the Children of the Earth, star in the darkness, jewel in the sunset, radiant in the morning!

Now, that’s one heck of a greeting! The person delivering it is Eönwë, a Maia, the herald of Manwë. (An angel of the Lord, basically.) Eönwë invites Eärendil into the divine palace, where he stands before the Valar themselves and makes his caseEönwë by redreyenotarget. “Please, for the love of Eru, help us!” And for once, they agree: The Valar will officially Intervene and help Middle-earth with its Morgoth problem.

Eönwë by @redreyenotarget

I know it’s easy to hate or blame the Valar for their apathy, but try to see this whole situation from their perspective: They spent the first couple eons of their time in Middle-earth trying to clean up Morgoth’s messes. Every time they succeeded, he would just fuck it up again for shits and giggles. And he’s more powerful than the rest of them combined. It’s just not worth their time to deal with their brother’s stupid shit. And for what? To help Men who are going to die anyway, Noldor who rejected their help and protection and who committed heinous atrocities, and some other Elves who never bothered to come to Valinor in the first place? You’d be demoralized too, if you realized that the world is never really going to be fixed, and people are always going to choose the worst possible options, no matter what you do. Hell, I feel that way, and I’m not a god. Also, as we’re about to see, there’s another, better reason why the Valar don’t help all that often.

What makes them say yes to Eärendil? I don’t know. Maybe they see the scale of the problem — that the survival of the Children of Ilúvatar is hanging on by a thread — or maybe they’re simply moved by his words. However, there’s a catch: the fate of Eärendil himself. Mandos declares that no mortal Man can come to the Undying Lands and live. On top of that, Eärendil is the son of Idril and the grandson of Turgon, making him technically a Noldo. And the Noldor are officially Banned From Valinor, on account of… *gestures vaguely*… everything.

Manwë delivers his judgement: Eärendil and Elwing will not be punished, because they came to Valinor with pure intentions, out of love and a desire to protect others. But he also can’t just let them off the hook. Eärendil and Elwing are forbidden from returning to Middle-earth.

There’s also the matter of their mixed heritage. Eärendil and Elwing are both Halfelven, with both Elven and human parents (or grandparents). Remember, the difference between Elves and Men is a metaphysical one: Elves are immortal, but permanently tied to Middle-earth. Men are mortal, but their souls will survive the end of the world, and participate in the creation of the next one. Manwë gives Eärendil and Elwing, and their sons, the ability to choose which destiny they want.

During all of this, Elwing made friends with the Teleri, and tells them all about Doriath and Gondolin and everything else that’s happened in Middle-earth. Eärendil comes to get her, and brings her to Manwë’s palace to make her choice. Elwing chooses to be an Elf, and Eärendil also chooses to be an Elf for her sake, even though he feels a stronger connection with Men.

Eönwë gets the Vingilot (sending Eärendil’s mariners home in another boat), and brings it to Eärendil. The magic of the Valar makes the ship glow bright white, like it’s filled with celestial fire. Eärendil sits at the helm, literally sparkling with all the diamond-dust on his clothes, and the Silmaril still on his brow. He sails out past the “uttermost rim” of the world, through the Door of Night, and into the void. In the morning and evening, he comes back to Valinor, which is why you can see him shining over the horizon.

The Voyage of Eärendil by @wavesheep

Elwing doesn’t join him on his voyages into the void, but she stays in Valinor, waiting for her husband to come home. In that time, she learns to speak the language of the sea birds, and they teach her how to fly. She flies up to greet Eärendil’s ship on white wings.

So now, you can understand the full significance of Sam’s line in The Two Towers:

“Beren, now, he never thought that he was going to get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in the Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours. But that’s a long tale, of course, and goes past happiness and into grief and beyond it — and the Silmaril went on and came to Eärendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We’ve got — you’ve got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we’re in the same tale still! It’s still going on. Don’t the great tales never end?”

Yes, Samwise Gamgee uses the light of a Silmaril, the last remaining light of the Two Trees of Valinor, to defeat Shelob, the daughter of Ungoliant. He uses it to force his way into Cirith Ungol, while singing the name of Elbereth, the Vala of the stars.

Back in Middle-earth, Elros and Elrond are not dead. They were adopted by Maglor (the second-oldest of Fëanor’s sons, who hasn’t individually done anything important until now). There’s something more than a little weird about being raised by the person who sacked your city and killed everyone you love — even the text itself points this out — but this is Maglor’s way of working towards the smallest bit of atonement. He and Maedhros don’t want a repeat of what happened with Dior’s sons. And Maglor genuinely grows to love the boys like they were his own children.

Maglor by @aamuusva

When the people of Middle-earth see the evening star rise for the first time, Maedhros immediately recognizes the light as that of the Silmaril. He and Maglor conclude that if the Silmaril miraculously rose into the heavens, where everyone can see it and it’s safe from Morgoth, they should take that as a good omen. (Not only is it safe from Morgoth, it’s also safe from them. They can’t literally climb into the sky to steal it from Eärendil’s crown.)

Seeing the evening star, Morgoth is genuinely worried for the first time in a long time. But he’s so arrogant, he doesn’t consider that the Valar would openly challenge him again. They’re happy in their paradise, and don’t care what Morgoth does over in Middle-earth. Plus, they hate the Noldor. Morgoth gives himself a big pat on the back for that one. He assumes the Valar would never stick their necks out for the Noldor again, because he’s evil, and he can’t understand forgiveness or compassion. As usual, mercy is the highest good in Tolkien’s world.

The Elves of Valinor prepare for battle. The Noldor of Valinor, the ones who never followed Fëanor into exile, are led by Finarfin. There’s also a host of Vanyar, the first group of Elves to arrive in Valinor. They’re led by Ingwë, the last standing of the three Elven kings who originally came to Valinor.

(Another Germanic Fun Fact for you: Ingwë is named after the god Freyr, who’s sometimes called Ing, Ingvi, or Yngvi. Variations on it are a common theonym in Germanic languages. I can’t believe I didn’t catch that back at the start of the book!)

There’s also a handful of Teleri, though not many. They still haven’t forgiven the Noldor for the Kinslaying and the destruction of their ships, and who can blame them? Elwing convinces some of them to contribute, since she’s distantly related to them, but they only send enough mariners to sail the Elf armies over to Middle-earth.

The army comes. The Valar are beautiful and terrible, and their footsteps shake the mountains as they march towards Middle-earth. Eönwë blows his trumpet, and the War of Wrath begins.

The War of Wrath by Firatsolhan

This is the biggest and greatest battle that has ever, or will ever take place in Middle-earth until the battle that ends the world. All the armies of Men and Elves, from Valinor and Middle-earth, participate in this battle. For once, they have the upper hand. Almost all the Balrogs are wiped out, save a few that scurry into the dark tunnels under the earth (to be found by Gandalf and co. millennia later). Most of the Orcs are slaughtered “like shriveled leaves in a burning wind.”

Seeing that he’s losing, Morgoth unleashes his trump card: If you think Smaug is bad, you’re not ready for the biggest, baddest dragon in Tolkien’s lore: You know ’im, you love ’im, please give it up for… ANCALAGON THE BLACK!

Ancalagon the Black by Ruben de Vela

Oh yeah! This is the kind of massive, horned demon dragon that you’d expect to see in a battle like this. This dragon is the size of an entire mountain range. This dragon makes Smaug look like an iguana. All seems lost, but then Eärendil himself comes down out of heaven with a host of Eagles, led by Thorondor. Together, they fight Ancalagon and the dragons in the sky. Eärendil himself slays Ancalagon, and the dragon’s enormous body falls upon the Thangorodrim, snapping their tips off. (If you’re gonna be a legendary hero, you need to get your dragon slaying in.)

After a day and a night, the battle is over. The sun rises, and Morgoth is defeated. He runs like a coward and hides in Angband, until the Valar drag him out and cut off his feet. They bind him with the chains that they once used to bind him in Valinor, and remove the remaining two Silmarils from his crown.

And that’s it. The Dark Lord is defeated.

Melkor by Elveo

(I tried to save this picture for a moment in which Morgoth arrives to fight, all badass, but nope. He’s too much of a coward for that. Good job, Morgoth, you suck so much that this picture makes you look cooler than you really are. Still a cool picture, though.)

His defeat came at a very high cost. The battle was so intense that Beleriand itself was destroyed. The entire westernmost part of the continent was ripped to pieces, and what’s left of it is swallowed by the sea. This is why the Valar don’t intervene often: when they do, the world as we know it is physically destroyed and reshaped.

Eönwë invites the remaining Elves of Middle-earth to come to Valinor. Last call. Maedhros and Maglor both refuse. They’re still compelled by their oath — they have to retrieve the Silmarils, even from the Valar themselves. They beg Eönwë to surrender the Silmarils to them, making the case that because their father made them, the Silmarils are their birthright. Eönwë responds that they no longer have that right. They committed so many atrocities in the name of the Silmarils that they don’t deserve them anymore. Their cruel sacking of Doriath and the Havens, in particular, damned them. Their only remaining option is to return to Valinor and face Manwë’s judgement. Then, and only then, will Eönwë give them the jewels.

Maglor decides to submit. He’s sad and exhausted, and hopes that the oath will let him bide his time indefinitely. Maedhros worries that if they return, and the Valar don’t forgive them, then they’ll be permanently stuck in an impossible position: they’ll be compelled to get the Silmarils, but won’t ever be able to access them. Whether they fulfill the oath or break the oath, they’re damned either way. They decide that the safest option is to simply steal them. They sneak into Eönwë’s camp at night, and literally just steal the gems, killing the guards and making off into the night. They’re caught, but Eönwë prevents anyone from killing them. Finally, finally, after all of that, the sons of Fëanor have their hands on the Silmarils! There’s only two of them left, and two of the three Silmarils left, so, one for each of them.

But as Maedhros takes the Silmaril, it burns his hand, because no evil thing can touch it. In that moment, Maedhros comprehends just how far he’s fallen. He cries bitterly, and in his despair, casts himself into a fiery chasm, taking the Silmaril with him into the depths of the earth.

The Death of Maedhros by Kamehame

I’d make a “cast it into the fire” joke here, but I don’t want to make light of this. Maedhros is such a tragic character, even by Silm standards. TV Tropes calls him one of the main villains of The Silmarillion, and I think that’s accurate. While Morgoth is the looming threat in the background, the Fëanorians are a much more personal, and sometimes more dangerous, threat. Maedhros in particular emphasizes the devastating tragedy of the Oath of Fëanor, because he’s not as much of an asshole as some of his brothers. For most of the story, he genuinely tries to do the right thing: he abdicates rulership of the Noldor, attempts to unify Elves and Men, and makes good decisions during war. He survives hell and despair once, and comes back stronger. He tries, but it’s not enough. He still destroys two Elven kingdoms (without Morgoth having to lift a finger), killing thousands of innocents, all for the sake of an ancient vanity. At the end, he realizes he is not a good person, that maybe he never was. That it was all for nothing.

His story illustrates how even a “good” person is still capable of evil — how passion, fear, anger, or a sense of honor can drive us to do terrible things, because they feel compulsive. We may claim to be compelled by internal or external forces, but we are still ultimately responsible for our own actions and their ripple effects. It’s unclear whether the oath really does have some kind of magical hold over Maedhros, or whether he only believes it does. Ultimately, it doesn’t make much of a difference. It’s your call whether he succeeded in mitigating the oath’s effects, or whether he was every bit as bad as his father and brothers, while pretending not to be.

It Ends in Fire by Jenny Dolfen

As for Maglor, his hands are also burned by the Silmaril, so he throws it into the sea. He cuts himself off from the rest of the world, and walks the edges of the shoreline, playing on his harp and singing laments. We’re not told what happens to him after that. There are those (in the fandom) who say that Maglor still lives, still wandering the edges of the sea and singing.

Maglor by @redreyenotarget

The Silmarils find their final resting places: One in the air, one in fire, and one in the sea.

Most of the remaining Elves sail West, and are welcomed to Valinor. They live on Tol Eressëa, the island just off the coast of Valinor. They build a city on the island called Avallónë, which means “near to Valinor,” but… c’mon… “Avalon.” (Real subtle there, Tolkien.) Manwë finally pardons the Noldor, and the ancient Curse is officially null and void.

A handful of Elves choose to stay in Middle-earth. Among these are Círdan, Celeborn, Gil-galad, and Galadriel. Galadriel is the last of the original group of Noldor who were exiled from Valinor (except Maglor, I guess). The forgiveness of the curse applies to her, too, which is why she’s able to sail West at the end of The Lord of the Rings. But for the time being, she remains in Middle-earth with her husband.

Elros and Elrond, the half-elves, are given the same choice as their parents. Elrond chooses to be an Elf, and Elros chooses to be a Man. Elros’ line is particularly epic, because it’s the only line of Men that has both the noble Noldor blood and the divine blood of the Maiar. It eventually ends in Aragorn. On the other hand, imagine how Elrond must feel: He loses his parents early to their divine sea voyage, his foster fathers to the despair over their curse, and then his brother to the world of Men and a mortal life. And then, after several millennia, he loses his daughter, who makes the same choice to become human! (Arwen is able to do that because she’s Elrond’s daughter; not just any Elf could do that. Also, yes — Aragorn and Arwen are technically first cousins, but so many generations removed that it doesn’t matter.) At least Elrond is eventually able to reunite with his wife and sons in the Undying Lands.

Meanwhile, Morgoth is thrown through the Door of Night and into the Timeless Void. The Valar aren’t going to make the mistake of forgiving him a second time! He’ll wait there in the dark, gnashing his teeth, until the end of the world. Unfortunately, the damage was done: Morgoth planted the seeds of evil and hatred and fear in the hearts of Men and Elves, and that capacity for evil will continue to do harm until the end of days. And of course, as we all know, there’s another Dark Lord to deal with…

With the War of Wrath, the destruction of Beleriand, and the near-permanent imprisonment of Morgoth, the First Age comes to an end. With it ends the Quenta Silmarillion proper. It ends on a sad note. The last paragraph emphasizes that the whole story has been about the decay and destruction of what was once beautiful, and that this is the fate of the world. The world is Fallen, and if God (Eru) intends otherwise, the Valar have not declared it. That is very depressing.

But wait! There’s more! We haven’t even gotten to Númenor yet…

[furicookiebndz]

Lucifer x !FemReader : My old friend

Hello everyone, it is my first time writing this, i hope it will be good enough, have fun! This fan art isn't mine. Full credits to the amazingly talented artist/creator.

It has been thousands of years since evil began.

Lucifer, whose pride blinded him, attempted to dethrone the creator, only to ultimately fail and be banished from Paradise.

Lilith, who refused to submit to Adam, in turn fled from this magical place, but which hides many facades.

Yet few people know that with them, a third person flew out of Paradise. And even rarer are people who know the cause, 3 to be precise.

However, behind this unusual act lie very dark secrets, seen as…

-Can you stop, Vag'? You're giving me a headache.

The young woman turned her head towards the source of this execrable voice, a spider who was visibly lying carefree on the sofa, arms behind her head, a bored expression on her face.

Refraining from answering him, she continued:

Tragic, some thought it was another rebellious woman, others a fallen angel because of a serious crime, but that wasn't logical, what's worse than to confront the creator?"

-That doesn't help all of us, the young woman noted, running her hand through her hair, frustrated.

-It would be beneficial to have her on our side, especially if she has such a significant influence on the world of the living and beyond, Charlie concluded thoughtfully.

-But she hid from the world, living as a hermit. Many think it's a myth, but given what's been happening lately, I believe it's much more present than sinners think.

Vaggie rubbed her temples, trying to come up with an idea.

-Who the hell are you talking about? I hate it when you pretend to be Sherlock and leave me like the old cookie in the back of the cupboard.

-Are you interested in what we do? retorted Vaggie sarcastically

-No, more about why you were busting my balls, joked Angel.

-You don't even have one, asshole, mumbled quietly Husk, taking a sip of his cheap booze.

-Want to check~? It is free for you kitty cat.

-Not even for a thousand balls, growled quietly Husk, who was beginning to lose his patient.

-Ouuh finally a price there is progress, Daddy, the spider sent him a kiss

Alastor, who was reading a book by the fireplace, decided to speak

-Charlie, Darling, you seem concerned about this person Let me see…

He seemed surprised for a moment, before smiling more, if possible.

-My my, what a terrible coincidence. The person you are looking for is one of the most sought after. Didn't Lucifer tell you about Lady (Y/N)?

-Um… We're not exactly talking about all that-

“Daddy issues,” Husk muttered.

Alastor continued:

-As reported in this document, she flew away shortly after your parents. She was a person living in Heaven, she was not human, but not an angel entirely though, she had two pairs of wings, although she is the appearance of a mortal, yet she had her own power, not to be underestimated. She embodied humor, justice and determination. In short, all these things that are way too boring-

-Cut it short, Alastor, Vaggie said, snapping her fingers.

-But when Lucifer challenged God, she did not follow him, not because she had to beat him, but because he knew just as well as she did that what he was doing was wrong. For the first time in her life she felt an immense disappointment in the love he had once inspired in her, and the semblance of a relationship that was perhaps tending to end disappeared with the appearance of the first demon, your father, Charlie.

However, you are aware that shortly after the creation of Lilith, she quickly became friends with your mother, and when she flew away from Paradise, and she learned the cause, she entered in a black anger, so black that Gabriel had difficulty in containing it, Until then, she had always been obedient, never contesting the decisions, which were of infallible Justice, but this departure had torn away part of her herself. She confronted the lord, she tried to rally the others to her cause, but nothing changed. Disappointed, she left that place, and no one ever saw her again.

There was a heavy silence for a moment, before Angel said:

-So…Is she still a virgin?

Vaggie rolled her eyes before Charlie had an idea:

I'm sure she's not that far away. Maybe I should ask my father to contact her again. She must care about him, at least I hope so, and if I convince her, Gabriel won't be able to object!

Vaggie refrained from adding a comment, she knew it was too good to be able to do it, but in front of her girlfriend's adorable face, she couldn't refuse anything.

______________________________________________________________

-No, Lucifer said firmly, before Charlie could even finish his idea.

-But dad-

-End of discussion, I don't want to hear anything, he turned around and mechanically squeezed the rubber duck in his hand, like an anti-stress ball.

Lucifer seemed elsewhere, deep in thought. His friend, his old friend…

.

.

.

“Luciferrrrr!” A burst of joy appeared as she walked towards him, a smile on her lips, a book in her hands.

Lucifer as usual had a lyre in his hands. He looked up at Y/N and smiled.

One discussion led to another, he shared his ideas about the mortal world, while she agreed with some and shared her opinion on others. They would sometimes just stay silent, or she would read aloud from a book, and he would then accompany her with his lyre.

Such a beautiful memory…

.

.

.

Why Lucifer?! Why did you do this?

This same friend was there with her eyes filled with tears, disappointed in him.

Lucifer looked down. One mistake, just one mistake, had caused him to lose those he considered family, and his closest friend.

He wanted to tell her that it was just a misunderstanding, that it was for the best, but the damage was already done.

He took Lilith's hand and without a word, left for their new home.

The young woman, in tears, could only watch them leave, the man she loved and her friend, without being able to do anything, because her principles prevented her. Gabriel placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and said nothing. If she knew, he couldn't imagine how she would have reacted

.

.

.

-Dad?

Lucifer seemed to come out of his thoughts and focused on a family portrait. Lilith was already gone, after their separation he only had his daughter left, and after a second of thought he sighed and said:

-I'll see what I can do…

-It's true? Oh thank you Dad, thank you thank you thank you!, cried Charlie enthusiastically.

She took him in her arms, and Lucifer said to himself that finally, if having a hug from his daughter meant having to seek the 7 rings of Hell and even the beyond, he would do it without complaining.

Now all that remained was to find it, the most complicated part…

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

Lucifer, Charlie and the hotel members thought for several days, using all their knowledge and powers to find her. If she was neither in Hell, nor in Heaven, or even in the mortal world, she must be between the latter options-

Lucifer suddenly had an idea, remembering a conversation they had shared long ago, and he cast an incantation, which opened a portal to a world- no, a unique place, so messy and blurry, and yet so… familiar, as if he were…

“In the middle of a dream,” Charlie whispered softly. The rest of the team followed her, looking around curiously. Lucifer asked himself so many questions, was it a place where souls rested between life and death? He did not know it. After all, the soul left the body for a while when it slept, that would explain the place.

-Who are you? I sense human souls, but something else…

They saw several women advancing, of great beauty, similar to fairies, but armed, ready to defend themselves, if it was not for another who stopped them by raising her hand, she advanced slowly, and Lucifer recognized her completely. right now.

-(Y/N)..Lucifer seemed upset to see her, and tried to pull himself together by talking to himself. "Ok, Ok. It's going to be okay buddy, you can do it, you can do it", When he met her gaze, he lost all his courage and hid behind Charlie.

-Dad!

-What? I-I'm just covering your back Charlie.

-At least what I thought of you is true, you're just a sissy Lucifer, Alastor sneered.

You looked at him for a moment, the man you had loved for thousands of years, it was..strange. You didn't know whether you should greet him or hit him.

-Lucifer, what is the honor of this visit worth to me? In 10,000 years you have never had the decency to come visit me.

Sarcasm. Something unusual about you, he couldn't help but admire you. Your two pairs of wings were now grey, but your eyes were still this soft (e/c) shade, but now full of resentment, and perhaps.. mockery?

-And you, you must be his daughter, mhh?

You moved closer to her and observed her suspiciously, while she was sweating profusely, and Vaggie seemed on the edge on attacking you, and to her surprise, you smiled widely and took her in your arms, with surprising strength.

-My lord you are his carbon copy, so pretty~, you squish her cheek cheeks and gush about her, while she laughs awkwardly.

Everyone was stunned by how fast the tension dissipates, and the women behind you giggle, seemingly aware by how fast your emotions tend to change. Lucifer smiles, maybe he still had a chance..

-But you seem so polite, unlike some, you cast a dark look at Lucifer, and greeted the others with a sympathetic and curious look, their offering to sit down for a while to talk.

...maybe not finally.

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

-If I understood everything, you created a hotel to rehabilitate sinners… and are trying to convince Heaven, is that right?

She nodded and Lucifer tried to add something, but you stopped him:

-I don't speak with traitors and liars, especially if they forget to send me a life message for eons.

Lucifer doesn't say anything wanting to make anything worse. He knew he was wrong, and sighed heavily.

(Y/N)-1 Lucifer-0.

-Damn, this girl is awesome, Angel whispered excitedly.

Vaggie continued:

-Lady (Y/N), you still have decent relationship with heaven.Could you try talking to some highers-up about it? Like Gabrie-

-No, this thing is no longer part of my circle of close friends, I can still try to talk about it again with Sera and Emily, but I can't do anything with the other weirdo.

Charlie felt hopeless, and she took your hands and looked at you with a miserable expression.

-I beg you, you must speak to him, my people are dying every year at the hands of the exorcists, and I-I cannot stand by and do nothing. Can you try..?

At his beaten puppy look, you widened your eyes, it was exactly-

Please don't tell them where I was, Lucifer pleaded with adorable eyes. You sighed but smiled, nodding your head.

-Well, i will. But I'm not promising anything though-

-Thank you thank you thank you, she hugged you, and you hugged her back with a smile.

Lucifer felt his heart beat faster, these two women who are precious to him have finally met, and got along better than he expected.

Now all he had to do was sort out one last problem.

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

Explanations were made. You listened patiently, and after a while you answered:

-Why Lucifer, didn't you tell me before? I-I thought I was your friend.

Lucifer held her gaze, and for the first time in millennia he took his courage in both hands and took hers:

-I didn't want to see your disappointed look, I know I made a mistake, but I only thought about doing the right thing. And I-

-You got scared?

He nodded, and you sighed:

-I don't blame you, at least not anymore.

He raised his eyes, feeling a bit of hope, and feeling Charlie's encouraging look, he continued:

-So, can we try again? I mean our relationship- Well our friendship!

He blushed slightly and you chuckled softly:

-Yes, always Lucifer.

[dailyeffectiveprayer]

The Lord's Prayer

After this manner therefore pray ye: Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.

10 Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.

11 Give us this day our daily bread.

12 And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.

13 And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

Matthew 6:9-13

[therealslimshakespeare]

Gigi -the unbaked thots:

• Bath •

Summary: I’ve had so many requests for this universe (including a bath time which this includes) and I appreciate all of y’all’s patience. I find this universe the hardest to write for and create entire scenes and fics out of so in order to keep it from dying out I intend to loosen up a little and start throwing out headcanons for y’all to enjoy in the meantime, you can watch for them with this header above. For now enjoy a trash bit of nastiness I wrote in under an hour in the middle of the night last night -kudos to the minxs @eliseinmemphis and @stylespresleyhearted

Warnings: Explicit! 18+ Bath sexy times, grinding, fingering, praying during sex, age gap, slight degradation, voluntarily drinking bath water containing cum. Yup.

Era: September 1977

Well here they are. On the dreaded tour.

But for now -there are bubbles. So many bubbles. And the heavy rumble of the bath’s jets and the golden glow of the dimmed bathroom lights in the hotel suite and the slippery bulk of Elvis as he grumbles beneath Gigi while she writhes amidst the foam of his rinsed shampoo.

“Sloppiest lil rider I ever-“ his face is shining in a heated glow, he is awash in pink cheeked arousal and Gigi persists, wearing herself out for his little gasps and the twitches of an eyebrow here and there. Bouncing adamantly atop his thick thighs in the swirling water and trying her avid best to slip his fat length inside her. She’s been trying since day one and every time it’s

-“not yet, Gigi, not yet, s’posed to be special and you’re special baby girl, not somethin’ to rush with someone special like you, see, I uh, i-i-it’s special-“

Gigi thinks having his rock solid cock inside her would be special enough.

“ ‘member the other night,

daddy?” She asks him in a huff, winded from the exertion as she pins his throbbing length against himself and grinds her clit against the hairs on his rounded belly, full of desperation born of youthful overexubernace, “remember how -how - when you were teasing me -and you pressed against my little hole?”

Elvis lets out a long groan in reply, slapping his hands against the sides of the tub in sexual frustration, causing his rings to clank and his bracelets to jangle against the porcelain. He can feel himself swell even more, the ache in his balls nearly unbearable at the proximity to snug tightness that he’s been denying himself for a myriad of reasons that are making less and less sense now, the more Gigi’s glossy wet tits slap his face silly.

“Oooh, oh I feel you-“ she gasps, as that redundant piece of meat between his thighs gives a hearty little twitch at the memory of her tiny hole and it’s fluttering need.

“You son of a bitch,” Elvis hisses to his traitorous little friend who’s acting very stalwart in his determination to find nothing but a tight cunt sufficient stimulation for release -it was easier back when little Elvis was a limp and useless dong: “this is the one time i’m asking you not to work. C’mon, don’t fail me now I-I- hell… O-o-our father. Who art in heaven-“

Gigi buries her face into the steamy crease where his cheeks meet his throat and licks at the salt there that not even the bath can remove. His hands fly to grip her hips and he yanks her up and down, grinding harshly against her raw little center as her breasts smash against his broad chest.

He regularly complained to the boys about her voraciousness and got no sympathy, not even when they saw it for themselves with the way he could barely get his seat in the limo, have his water handed to him and a towel before she was taking off his belt, unzipping his jumpsuit and inevitably giving lil Elvis some strong mouth suction. The boys had gotten used to ignoring him dumping a load down this little girl’s throat in the blurry blaze of street lamp lit nights and cranking up the radio to hide her moans every jet flight. Nothing about it was fitting and it wasn’t even to his tastes -so Elvis insisted- but it was real nice to be so wanted, even if the voraciousness of it was all a little alarming and out of hand.

Yet, God knows Elvis wanted Gigi badly. It half scared him sometimes and the rest of the time it kept him alive.

As did Lisa in an entirely different way and between the two girls tearing up his sedate plans for self mortification and permanent hermitage, Elvis found some zest for life returning to his soul as August became September and tabloids went from calling Gigi “the new girl” to calling her his whore and the colonel went from not answering his phone to leaving a perpetual red light on the message box and it went from kisses and snuggles in his Graceland bed to frantic grinding like this after every show that had her caterwauling in his arms begging to be torn open by his cock and him grunting like a bear in heat as he spurted against her belly and smashed the button for the tub jets to stop.

Wouldn’t do to circulate superstar spunk in a Cincinnati hotel jacuzzi.

“Mmm, that feel good daddy?” her sweet voice asks as the singing angels dim and the sense of time and space and his spent cock bring him back into consciousness.

“Uhuh. Feels real good.” he admitted sheepishly and felt her plump lips pressing to his bashful grin.

He returns it, pouring his love into her with the cradling of her head in his hands and the flick of his tongue against hers and the languid massaging of lips.

Gigi swirls the milky strands of his spend in the bath water between them, giggly and invigorated. She gets this way after climaxing and Elvis can only blearily smile and indulge the way she drags him around and makes him stand and get out of the tub, how she pats him down with towels like he’s a boy child and chitters to him about backstage gossip, praises for his performance of the night and Tammy’s latest tips for making Jerry’s life a living orgasmic hell. All while pressing kisses to every single part of his body as she goes along.

She’s found goosey places on Elvis that he didn’t even know existed.

Gigi is drying his shoulders when she sees the last remnants of the tub water cycloning in a swirl towards the drain, precious pearly strings cavorting like ribbons in the eddy.

Her conversational chatter ceases abruptly with a regretful -“oh no!“

She drops the sodden towel.

He watches her kneel, crouched and bent and glorious in a soft line of naked beauty from the back. Thought his maidenly idyl is shattered as she faces away from him and in what seems to be an impulsive moment of adoration, Gigi leans over the tub, hard porcelain lip digging into her sternum as she ducks her head and dips her mouth to the tepid bathwater.

He can hear her slurping.

Her graceful bracing in position and the greedy working of her throat suggest competency at this vile practice that makes his stomach lurch and spent cock swell thickly against his thigh. Without autonomy he hears himself grunt appreciatively.

“Fuuuuck me.” he drawls in disbelief, shuffling closer to watch the whole of it, the working of her sweet mouth sucking up his diluted seman and the arch of her back showcasing pink little pussy lips glistening from the back.

It’s sick and he’s terribly in love.

“That’s my good baby girl,” he finds himself praising this heinous degradation, hand coming to rest on the dip of her lower back, “not lettin’ m���lil contrition go to waste.”

It makes her strain to get as deep in the tub as she can, legs taut and face red from the blood rushing downwards to her cheeks as she chases gravity against the flow of the drain, his hand heavy and encouraging as it palms her ass, the pinch of his rings and the grunting, savage, male appreciation for her wantonness making her squeeze her thighs together in hopeless dissatisfaction.

A sting jolts her as his hand collides in an approving slap across her plush backside. The desire to make him proud eggs her on and she crawls further over the ledge, hair dragging in the drain.

Elvis’ hand once groping her butt moves until he’s peeling her apart and sliding in the long lengths of his middle and ring finger into her tight heat, meanly stabbing inside her as she’s bent double, tonguing at the drain for the last of his essence.

“You done this before.” Elvis’ voice is low, without a shred of questioning.

“Yes.” she moans, rosy cheek pressed to the wet floor of the now empty tub. “I always do this when you leave some left over, daddy.”

Elvis watches his fingers sink into pink plushness again and again, rings acting like stoppers at each culmination, spearing her until Gigi is sobbing and spasming over the tub edge, mouth wide open screaming for him with a tongue white from his spend, as broken as he is over the need to fuck her.

Sore and puffy, he assumes he’s learned her a lesson.

Standing her back up tenderly with all gentlemanly grace, Elvis wipes at her slimy cheek with his hands, pleased to find her smile as irrepressible as ever, the only thing on this godforsaken tour that hasn’t disappointed him yet.

“When is soon?” she whines into his kisses as he presses against her, bath quite redundant with the way he has her pinned between the door and his weeping cock, freshly spluttering his devotion against her bare pubic mound like he’s twenty years younger and fit to be such a minx’s lover.

“What?” He questions, murmuring in happy confusion.

“You said you’d make love to me soon.” she insists like a child reminding their senile parent of promises for ice cream after a trip to the dentist. “When is soon?”

Elvis grins through his grunt as he slides against her puffy clit, effortless from her slick and close to coming from images of her drinking his bath- “Soon, little baby,” he pronounces with all the gravity of a wiseman and the authority of a deadly opponent who his hand engulfing her fragile jaw, “-means soon.”

🏷🏷🏷🏷🏷🏷🏷🏷

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