#Sovereign Grace Singles

[iloveboysinred]

Closer to you [firelord Zuko]

Mdni 18+ | Firelord Zuko x fem! Reader smut

synopsis; -could be read as a prequel to Under the Canopy , you and Zuko have finally wed months after his coronation, you take a vacation to a beach home, where the two of you finally consummate your marriage and take the time to learn each other’s bodies

Cw- Oral, (f and m recieving), mentions of heirs, you and zuko don’t have sex until marriage, reader masturbates while Zuko is asleep, rough sex at the end, pain with virginity loss, virginity loss for both, outdoor sex, sappy fluff, reader and Zuko are both in their 20’s minimal editing bc i’m sure a small amount of ppl will read this i tried to include banners for the time skips but they weren’t cooperating soooo sorry for the spaces😭

5.5k words

Masterlist

“Esteemed guests and loyal citizens of the fire nation, we gather here today to witness the momentous occasion of Firelord Zuko and lady Y/n’s union.”

You let out a nervous breath, gripping the bouquet of red lilies to ease your nerves. This was it, your wedding day. You felt lightweight, your heart fluttering in your chest as the Head Fire sage continued his greeting. You glanced over at Zuko, who looked regal as ever, his hair neatly pulled back in a top knot with not a single hair out of place. He was wearing elegant robes to match yours, and his crown sat neatly against his bun, soon to be identical to your very own, sitting on a cushion right behind the Fire Sage.

Zuko caught your glance, his lips curling into a sweet smile and making your heart soar.

“We honor the union between Firelord and Firelady as they say their vows and become one in leadership.” Your full attention was now fully on the sage, ready to say your vows and complete the ceremony to take your place as Firelady, as well as your place as Zuko’s wife.

“Do you, Lady Y/n, promise your heart and loyalty to both the fire nation and firelord as Firelady and sovereign ruler of this nation?” Your mouth suddenly felt dry, your stomach turning as you realized that what you would say next would change the trajectory of your life. You would now devote your life to being a partner, a ruler, a wife. There was no backing out, no running away from the pressures of your new life and the responsibilities that came with it.

Knowing the weight of your next words, you spoke them with confidence, all doubts dissolving in your mind.

“I do.”

******

The celebration was grandiose. The large ballroom of the palace is alive with music and chatter between the guests. Banners of deep reds and gold decorate the space. Large tapestries of the fire nation insignia drape down from the walls, basking the room in warm colors, the extravagant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling tying it all together.

You sat next to Zuko on your thrones, the slew of gifts and offerings from your guests neatly set out in front of the both of you on a table for all to see and bring more as they please.

“I don’t think I've had the chance to tell you today,” Zuko’s voice cuts through the fray, drawing your attention back to him. Not that it wandered very far in the first place. You raised your eyebrows, prompting him to continue. “But you look so beautiful, esteemed Firelady of the Fire nation.” there was a hint of teasing to his tone, the honorifics sounding so unnatural coming from his lips. “Why thank you, Mr.Firelord” you playfully quipped, he snorted leaning forward to rest his forehead on yours. “I also don't think I've told you that I love you today” he murmured, ghosting his lips over yours. & you felt as if you'd swallowed a spoonful of honey, your unspoken words of affection settling a warm pool in your chest. “So tell me, your highness” you whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his lips basking in the radiant smile that graced his face. “I love you.” and his words were all you could hear. In the midst of the grandeur it suddenly was just you and him. Heart to heart.

Just as you were going to respond, Kitara and Aang came up to you, bright smiles on their faces as they voiced their congratulations and well wishes. You couldn't help but eye the betrothal necklace around her neck, so similar to the one passed down to her by her mother, but uniquely crafted to represent her and Aang’s love. You ghosted your fingers over your wedding ring; a beautiful red jewel held in silver, the center piece in the shape of a lotus flower. You smiled, things had really changed since you’d last seen them.

“Really? That's amazing, congratulations you two” your train of thought was interrupted and you quickly tried to pick back up on the conversation. “Thank you, Zuko. We’ll hope to see you two at the presenting ceremony” Aang smiled, placing his hand over Kitara’s stomach. And you beamed, looking at Zuko with an excited look on your face. “Kitara? You’re expecting? What wonderful news! We wouldn’t miss it for the world, don’t worry!” You gasped, reaching out to tenderly place your hand over her still flat stomach. You felt a wave of emotion wash over you, this was someone you’d basically grown with. You had seen it all together and now— oh. The sudden thought struck you and you glanced over at Zuko, who had turned a few shades too red when he caught your eye, seemingly knowing what you were thinking.

As Firelady it was your duty to both serve your nation and your husband as a dutiful wife and leader. Part of that duty was to provide an Heir. An heir. the thought sat heavy and unspoken between the two of you. Sitting back up to keep yourself composed, you exchanged a few more words of congratulations with Aang and Kitara before they headed back to mingle with the rest of the party.

“And now, the first dance for the newlyweds. Please clear the ballroom!”

Zuko stood from his seat, your train of thought having little time to continue running rampant in your mind before he turned to you and extended his hand out for you to take. “May I have this dance, lady y/n?” He mused and you rolled your eyes at him, a soft smile adorning your face. “Don’t be cheesy, baby” you giggled, your cheeks burning as he led you to the center of the ballroom.

The crowd dispersed to give you your space, the spotlight now on you and your husband. The lights were dimmed and the band began to play slow, sentimental music as you and Zuko swayed together wrapped in each other’s arms. His eyes glistened with emotion as he stared into your gaze his irises warm pools of melted honey, filled to the brim with affection and love for you. Despite the people in the room, the gazes you and Zuko exchanged were private. Unspoken words and emotions translated into touch—his hand snug on your waist and your arms tight around his shoulders. He held you closer, your body flush against his. The warmth of his body seeped into you through your dress, the natural scent of cinnamon and citrus you had come to know as his comforted you as it took over your senses. Tenderly, you leaned your cheek on his chest, closing your eyes and losing yourself in him

It was only when the music stopped that you came back to reality. Parting from Zuko’s embrace to envelop his lips in yours, the crowd cheered and swooned at your unabashed display of love. He held onto you proudly in front of the crowd, adjusting the newly acquired crown on your head as you pulled away from him. There was no question that you were his and that he was yours, and the entirety of the world knew it.

As the night went on, you and Zuko prepared for your short voyage to the beach house he had specifically built for you as a token of his affections. It was meant to be a two week stay in which you and Zuko would be mostly alone, enjoying the last few moments of freedom together before you’d be just as wrapped up in political meetings and paperwork as he was. While you packed, you couldn't help but let your mind drift back to thoughts of the future. How many children would you have? When would you have them? Were you even ready? You tried to shake them off but they plagued your mind, a blush warming your cheeks when you’d thought about how exactly you’d reach that goal. You shivered, imagining exactly how it would feel to be at your husband’s mercy. Vulnerable and open for his taking. It sent a strong surge of heat through your body, and you squeezed your knees together to force it away. You briefly wondered if Zuko was thinking the same way you were.

The trip went by quickly, and you soon found yourself in the grand hall of the very sizable beach home Zuko had designed. It was open; large floor to ceiling windows allowed vast amounts of sunlight to bathe the space, a stark contrast to the comforting darkness of the palace. The walls were painted beige and the home had sandy brown hardwood flooring. Multiple portraits for your families adorned the halls, the newly completed tapestry of you and Zuko was the center-piece, taking up an entire wall all on its own. You sat at one of the windows, soaking in the view of the beach in front of you. It was serene, the ocean stretched on forever, beautiful blue shining with the sun tucked over the horizon. The warm breeze gently blowing through your hair brought with it the calming scents of the ocean and you sighed, relaxing into the beach chair you had brought with you.

Zuko was in the kitchen trying his best to replicate the simple recipes Iroh had attempted to instill in him when he was just a boy. He cut the vegetables and trusted his hand when adding the spices. The stew he had begun to simmer on the stove emitted a pleasant aroma, and he considered it a success. He covered the pot, putting the fire out and instead replacing it with a weaker flame he had cast with his finger. Leaving the stew on low heat, he decided he would seek you out. Walking out he found you blissed out and relaxed by the opening of the hall. He smiled to himself, padding up to sit beside you in the unoccupied chair. He reached over and grabbed your smaller hand in his, squeezing it to wake you out of your sleep.

*****

“Woah, this is really good, honey!” You hummed in delight as you took another spoonful of the stew Zuko had prepared. You both sat at the table, set right by a large window where you could see a single palm tree overlooking the sandy floor of the beach. The tree swayed in the wind, heavy with coconuts and shading a significant amount of space. A perfect lounge spot for after your meal, you thought. “Yeah, it's pretty alright. Uncle taught me this recipe when we were in Ba Sing Se” a smile quirked at his lips, fondness in his eyes as he remembered his uncle. “He only made it for me once, but he made sure to write down all his recipes…I guess it came in handy.” You nodded, reaching over to briefly squeeze his hand in comfort before hungrily returning to your bowl. Zuko chuckled as you scarfed the stew down, shaking his head as he brought another spoonful to his lips.

*****

Night had fallen by the time you and Zuko had finished unpacking and settling in. You sat outside on the beach floor, on a large towel protecting you from the grainy sand beneath you. The moon reflected beautifully in the dark water, the gentle sound of waves crashing onto shore making you feel a sense of calm. Zuko sat next to you, wearing nothing but a beach towel around his waist and a pair of shorts. He distractedly stared up at the night, hundreds of stars gleaming against the sky. You leaned closer to him as the chilly breeze blew over your bare shoulders, the bikini top you wore doing absolutely nothing to shield you from the cold. Zuko pressed a warm kiss to the crown of your head, wrapping his arm around you. “Cold?” He murmured, nosing into your hair. “A little- but I think I'll be okay.” He hummed, reaching down to undo the knot holding his beach towel together. Your eyes widened slightly and you blushed, holding your breath as he pulled it away, his bare thighs now in full view. You shyly looked away as he wrapped the towel over your shoulders, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek.

Zuko was always affectionate with you, so you almost paid it no mind when his hand rubbed up and down your hip, or when his warm lips grazed the skin of your throat, his hair tickling your neck as he pressed wet kisses down your skin. His touch was careful, almost hesitant as his kisses crept lower and lower down your chest. You jerked as his hand came up to trace over the fabric of your bikini top, the pad of his thumb briefly brushing against your clothed nipple. He halted at your reaction, pulling away with an apologetic look on his face. “Was that too much? I’m sorry-“ you shook your head, your hand coming up to cradle his face.

Your stomach fluttered when his eyes met yours, the blush on his face a dead giveaway of his anxiety. “I actually..liked it” you offered a reassuring smile, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Zuko pressed back into you, his hand coming up to tangle with yours, still cradling his cheek. His other arm found its home on your waist, pulling you closer and leaving you breathless as he deepened the kiss your exposed skin meeting his bare chest sending a shiver up your spine. He slowly lowered you on the towel, his hands leaving you to lift your thighs over his. He pulled away from you panting, his heart lurching in his chest as he looked at you beneath him, your face flushed and your lips kiss-swollen.

His eyes flitted down your body, stopping at the loosely tied knots of your bikini. He gazed back up at you, his eyes glinting with something unfamiliar. Slowly, he dragged his hands down your sides, your breath baited as his hands trailed down your waist, his eyes locked on yours. You felt pinned down by his gaze, too drawn in to even think about moving. Finally, he stopped at the knots tying your bikini together, teasing them with the tips of his fingers, slipping them in and out from under the straps.

It felt like the desire in his eyes would consume you, and you spread your thighs wider to welcome him in.

“I wanna taste you, baby.” He breathed, quiet words for only you to hear. You slowly nodded your head, the desire burning in your core rendering you defenseless against the temptation of having your husband between your thighs— hungry for your intimacy.

He was swift, pulling the strings and undoing the knots. He held his breath, pulling the cloth off with nimbility. The cool air blew over your dampening folds, making your legs quiver with the urge to close. He sighed in relief, as if your pussy was the solution to all his problems, and maybe it was; because Zuko pressed his lips to your pussy, breathing you in and moaning at the taste. You gasped, covering your face in abashment as he experimentally flattened his tongue against you, trying to catch every little drop of your essence on his tongue. For the first few minutes it was just that– Zuko experimenting, finding his rhythm and poking and prodding with his tongue, your pretty sounds of pleasure guiding him.

It was only when his tongue passed your clit over in a swipe that you arched into his mouth, gasping as your hands came down to tangle in his hair, pushing him further in between your legs that he got the idea on how to pleasure you further.

And he wasted no time abusing this newfound discovery.

He closed his eyes, wrapping his glistening lips around the delicate bud and sucking on it, his tongue a tight squeeze around the suction as the tip flicked and swiped over the surface. You felt like you were floating, waves of pleasure coursing through your body in alternating intensity. You laid there, your mouth open in a soundless moan as his fingers found your entrance, teasing over the delicate opening before sliding in with ease, the mix of spit and your arousal making it easy. It didn’t take too long for you to come undone at his hands, his fingers and tongue working in tandem to build you up. The high was exhilarating, your toes curling as his fingers continued to move against your plush walls, your pussy twitching and spasming around his fingers and tongue. You pulled him off with shaking hands, his lips and chin glistening with the creamy residue of your orgasm. He was panting when his lips found yours again, pressing you hard into the towel as his weight overtook you. You kissed him back, clinging onto his shoulders as the breath was pulled from your lungs.

Carefully, he pulled away from you looking at you in complete adoration. His dark hair was disheveled and frizzy, but he could care less as he brought you to his chest, his arms secured around your waist. “That was…” “amazing.” you finished his sentence, looking up at him in earnest. He smiled, nodding his head in agreement. “Yes. amazing,” he ran his fingers through your hair lovingly, “better than i’ve ever imagined.”

******

The next few days went by in a blur. You and Zuko had opted to start exploring the island, going to local markets and indulging in the culture the small village had cultivated. They welcomed you both kindly, offering all kinds of commodities and gifts to the newlywed leaders of the fire nation. In a way, you felt at home. The beach home had become a safe haven, the two of you retreating to its safety whenever the day had been fulfilling. You sat in the kitchen as he cooked, staring a little too hard at the rippling muscles on his back. You shifted in your seat, briefly remembering the way he had so carelessly taken his fill of you on the beach just nights prior. A wave of heat overcame you and you felt your clit pulse in exhilaration. He turned towards you, setting your plate on the counter and sitting himself next to you. Humming, you brought a spoonful of the rice and pork he had prepared, moaning in delight as the flavor bathed your taste buds.”If I knew you could cook like this, I'd give the palace cooks a lot more days off.” you joked, bringing another spoonful of the food to your mouth, chewing happily. “You never asked,” he smiled as he watched you eat, taking a sip of his water. “I'd cook you anything you want.” you nodded in appreciation “i’ll keep that in mind.”

Finished with the meal the two of you washed the dishes together, chatting and joking around. Your arms were covered to the elbow in suds, and you playfully flung some him his way, giggling at the stricken look on his face. “Oh you think you’re funny,” he grabbed a large mass of the suds, smearing it over your hair. “Hey!” quickly a fight ensued, suds and water flying back and forth throughout the kitchen. Moments later, you laid on the floor with your wet shirt stuck to your chest. Zuko sat next to you in a criss-cross, wiping the soap water off his forearms. He gently began to pat the remaining suds off your hair. Sighing, you closed your eyes as he began to thread his fingers through your damp locks, pressing warm kisses to your face every now and again. It was dark outside, and the beach house was dimly lit with the flames of the wall lamps, creating a calming atmosphere. You almost wanted to doze off right there. “Had enough?” he playfully poked your side, earning a gentle swat at his hands. “Mmh, more than enough. M’tired.” he chuckled, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “Tired, huh? That's new.” his face crept to yours leaving a sweet kiss lingering on your wet cheek. “Let’s head to the shower and then we can sleep all you want.”

But sleep didn’t come easy. Your mind kept replaying the events from a few nights ago over and over in your head while Zuko slept peacefully next to you, pressed against your side. Staring up at the ceiling, you tried to ignore the aching in your pussy, your body and mind betraying you, the dampening of your panties impossible to ignore. Your heart sped up as your mind replayed the obscene memories of your husband between your legs, lapping up your arousal and deliciously bringing you to your climax. Sighing, your hand crept down to your panties, hesitantly teasing at the silky band. Glancing over at Zuko, you faltered. Your husband was a fairly deep sleeper, one quick little swipe wouldn’t wake him up, right? You pushed the hesitation away, slipping your hand past the band and parting your pussy lips with the tip of your fingers. You sighed as your clit brushed against the pad of your finger, sensitive and pulsing.

You tested the waters, rubbing your nub from side to side, biting your finger to muffle the small gasps of delight leaving your lips. The rhythm you had started soon became dull and you pressed harder, now rolling circles into your clit trying to mimic the sensation Zuko’s tongue had provided. Soon you had built a pattern of alternating between small, tight circles over your clit to quick, heavy swipes over the surface. It was intoxicating, the waves of pleasure rolling over you, and subsequently it became harder to keep your whines at bay. Zuko shifted beside you and you flinched, looking to see if he was still asleep. His breathing stayed even, and he didn’t move again so you resumed, sneaking your hand a little lower to tentatively sink a finger in, slightly leaning forward to sink it in further up to your first knuckle, gasping as you felt the warm, wet suction of your walls. Lost in the haze, you almost jumped out of bed when you felt your husband’s warm hand cup over your pussy, his face coming up to lay over your collarbone. “Hmm, I thought you were tired.” he rasped, his sleep laden voice making your pussy clench around your fingers in response, warmth pooling in your core. “I-i’m sorr-” he cut you off, pressing his lips against your own, swallowing your apology. “Don’t be.” he murmured, his hand easing yours away from your pussy and replacing your fingers with his own. “You could’ve just asked..” you leaned back, spreading your legs wider to give him more room. “Didn’t wanna..wake you.” you sighed in pleasure, Zuko’s fingers filling you up nicely, his pace moderate as he pumped them in and out of you, muffled squelching from your arousal sounding from under the covers. “If this is what I'm waking up to, I wouldn't mind.” he slowly lifted the covers up from your bodies, discarding them behind him on the bed. You moaned, feeling his lips trail hot kisses down your body.

He stopped his trail right at your navel, shifting so that he could situate himself in between your legs. “What a mess..” he sighed, eagerly pressing his mouth to your soping wet pussy, lapping up anything he could. “Pussy so sweet, I don't think I'll ever be satisfied.” your face burned as he buried himself into you, his nose bumping up against your clit as he shoved his tongue inside of you, pushing it in as far as he could go. “Don’t say stuff like that..” you whined, your legs quivering as he pulled away to suckle on your clit. He said nothing, too preoccupied with slipping his fingers into you, groaning into your cunt as your taste bathed his tongue. His eyes were closed in half-awake bliss, and you briefly felt bad for waking him up so late. Looking down at him, you noticed his hips jolting into the bed, his muffled groans only increasing in volume the faster he went. It was clear that he needed relief too.

You tapped his shoulder, waking him from his entrancement and pulling him up towards you. He sat up, confusion in his sleepy gaze. “I..i want you to feel good too, Zuko” you pointed at his crotch, the hard outline of his dick bold in the fabric of his boxers. “You don’t have to baby, I'm fine with just taking care of you,” you shook your head, running your fingers over the bulge, smiling when you felt him shiver under your touch. “I want to.” he nodded, helping you ease off his boxers, your mind reeling as his dick hung heavy between his legs, thick and glistening with pre. “How am I going to do this?” you thought, reaching forward to wrap your hand around his girth, sliding it up and down his length, feeling slightly confident as his breathless moans filled your ears. “Faster baby, please” he gasped, your speed increasing as you stroked him, thumbing over his tip and smearing his precum over it. His hips lightly bucked into your hand, his eyes closing in bliss. Feeling bold, you laid down on your stomach, grazing your lips over the head of his dick. He jolted, his hands coming to rest over your cheeks. “Baby..” you shushed him, looking up into his eyes through your lashes. “Just let me do this. Let me try” and slowly, he dropped his hands from your face, instead resting them on your shoulders as you slipped the tip into your mouth.

Zuko winced, watching as you tried to take him in fully, tears pricking your eyes as his cockhead brushed against the back of your throat. “Just breathe baby..take it easy” you nodded as best you could, breathing through your nose as you tried to swallow him further. It was too much, the thick girth of his dick making you gag and sputter around him. You pulled away heaving for air, a thin line of spit connecting you to his tip. He comfortingly caressed your cheek, brushing your hair away from your face. “You okay?” He rasped, wiping the spit from your bottom lip. You nodded, taking a deep breath before you were on him again, this time holding your breath as your took him whole, forcing his length down your throat for a few heartbeats before pulling upwards, bobbing your head in steady rhythm.

Zuko moaned, your warm mouth sending hot waves of pleasure up his spine and throughout his body. His hands came down to squeeze and knead his balls as you continued sucking him off. You made a mental note to do that for next time, seeing as with every gentle squeeze his dick twitched in your mouth, his legs quivering with every bob of your head. It didn’t take much more for him to pull you off of him, thick spurts of cum oozing out from his aching tip. He panted, eyes laden with sleep and lust as he pulled you towards him, locking lips with yours in a heated kiss. Zuko eased you back into the pillows, his lips hungrily pressed against yours, his tongue tracing over your bottom lip and sucking your tongue into his mouth. His hands wandered over your body, committing every curve and dip to memory, feeling the heat of your arousal against his body. Easing himself between your legs, you tensed feeling the weight of his dick slap over your fluttering pussy. He pulled away, sensing your apprehension. “You okay?” He grabbed your chin, meeting your eyes to his. “We can stop-“ you shook your head “no..i don't want to stop. Just, be gentle, okay?” He leaned down and kissed you again. “Of course I will. We can take all the time you need.”

Pain. Hot, searing pain is all you could feel. Despite ample prep from Zuko’s fingers and tongue, it did little to fully dull the ache that came with the stretch of his length. He was a little more than half way in now, your knuckles white as you gripped his arm for comfort. He pressed warm kisses to your face, your legs hoisted up to his shoulders. It was hard for you to breathe, the air feeling like its completely left your lungs. Was it supposed to hurt this bad? You didnt know, your eyes glossy with tears as your slowly tried to relax your body. “Baby, breathe” Zuko whispered, his lips warm against the skin of your neck. You nodded, trying to take deep breaths and try to focus on something other than his dick splitting you in half. “Just relax okay? You’re doing so good f’me.” His hand came down to rub over your hip, creeping down to lightly trace over your puffy clit, rubbing slow circles into the bud. You squeezed your eyes shut, wrapping your arms iver his shoulders. “Okay, i’m ready..” You whispered, readying yourself. He pressed one last reassuring kiss to your throat before he slowly pushed the rest of himself inside of you, interlacing one of his hands with yours as you winced in pain. The other one still rubbing light circles over your clit.

Seconds dragged on what felt like hours, your hips shifting as the ache slowly began to subside, you suddenly became aware of just how full you were. His dick molded into the plush walls of your tight pussy, your walls fluttering and clenching around him. It was almost overwhelming, having him stretch you out to accommodate everything he had to offer. Zuko slowly moved his hips back and forward, keeping his pace light. His eyes squeezed shut, curses falling from his lips as he relished in the pleasurable grip your pussy had on him.

You closed your eyes, feeling the ache fade away into pleasure. Your nails dug into his back, your back arching into his body. “Fuck” he huffed, his eyes half lidded as he rocked into you, the headboard creaking with every thrust of his hips. The sound of your skin slapping filled the room, the obscene squelching of your wet pussy making you bashful, closing your eyes tight as your face came alight with a rosy blush. Zuko’s eyes drank in the view of your body sprawled out for him, your neck littered in red marks and your lips kiss swollen and puffy. There wasn't a move you could make that escaped his fixation with you, his hands wandering all over your body, kneading the flesh of your ass and thighs roughly. “This pussy was made for me, baby” he grunted, his hand coming down to rub rough circles over your clit. “Z-zuko!” You gasped your toes curling from the flashes of white, hot pleasure shooting up and down your spine. “Spirits- you’re squeezing me so tight baby, fuck” he hissed burrying himself in all the way to the hilt. Your eyes rolled back, the stimulation on your clit and Zuko’s dick beating your insides was all too much. You came hard, harder than you ever could with just your fingers. Your walls clamped down, squeezing him tight as your ecstasy washed over you in violent torrents of mind numbing pleasure…

*******

The remaining days of your vacation you spent in bed. Zuko became insatiable, taking you anywhere and everywhere. And, fortunately for you— it didn’t stop at the beach house.

Back at the palace, when you weren’t wrapped up in meetings you were underneath him, taking his dick anyway he wanted to give it to you. He had learned your body inside out, absuing those spots he knew would drive you insane and eating you out like you were his last meal.

He found that his favorite way to start his day was between your thighs, eating your pussy until you were a shaking mess above him. When you expressed how you wished the mornings with him would last forever, he had a canopy with thick, maroon curtains installed in your bedroom to block out the light and disturbances of the morning. Of course, weeks into marital bliss the subject of Heirs was brought on by his royal advisors. “Not a problem” Zuko stated, squeezing your hand on the armrest of the throne. “We’ll provide an heir in due time.”

*******

“Z-zuko! Slow down!” You moaned, folded almost in half, Zuko thrusting into you, making sure to give you his all. He snickered, leaning down to press a wet kiss to your lips. “We have a duty to uphold” he grunted, sloppily slotting his hot tongue over the seam of your lips, fucking into you with vigor you’ve never felt before. The pleasure was blinding, his cockhead hitting every crevice inside of you, absuing your g-spot with sweet percison. “They want heirs? We’ll give them a fucking million of them.” And by the look in his blown pupils, you could tell he was serious. “Zuko ah! Ah!” You gasped, feeling as though the air was being punched out of your lungs with every smack of his pelvis against your ass. His hand crept down to rub rough circles over your clit, and your head fell back in a silent scream.

“Shh baby, let me take care of you, okay? It’s just us”

[svgvru]

𝐒 & 𝐌 : sex in the air, i don't care, i love the smell of it!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 𝐓𝐎, 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔. it was no surprise either, well to those who know you. as the former ruler of teyvat, the king who presided over his sovereigns, it was logical that he would take a knee for you. you were his king, the dragon king. and he learned all sorts of things from you and about you when the two of you had first met during the . . . less kind days of fontaine.

things like: the former hydro sovereign, the prophecy, why he was born in a human form, anything relating to dragons, that you were kind, that you were honest, and that you were cruel. at least in his opinion.

now the kind did outweigh the cruel in most instances, however, the bedroom was a bit of a different story. see, neuvillette is such a loyal servant to you. he had been and always will be. and he's also—pliant. the poor hydro dragon could use some advice from a superior, someone older than him. after all, he is—was an over 500 year old virgin. a person with experience is someone he could benefit positively off of! and you were kind. keyword: "were."

your kisses started off sweet, they were gentle and calming. your hand were careful and soft as they roamed and prepped his body. your words were praises that could raise his ego tenfold. now?

"come now, dear . . . " there resting on your face with cruel smile, masquerading as being sweet. his feet carefully and reluctantly pad towards you. your form was sat on the edge of the bed, legs in a manspread. his eyes catch the glimmer of the blue gem on his cane next to you. he stops in between your legs, chewing on the corner of his lip. "don't hurt yourself," you whisper kissing his lips as your hands torturously slowly take off his clothing.

when you haad given him that glance just hours ago, he knew his "verdict" had been decided. oh how the tables had turned, then again, you were always his king, had they changed specifically with you? "across my legs, dearest."

your voice is soft, yet there's a command in it. therefore—he obeys. just as if he was in court, yet the roles were switched. the culprits had to face their sentence, so did he. his naked body is splayed across your legs. his back in an unintentional arch as his bare ass is on display for you. your hands teasingly trace his spine, except they didn't feel like your hands. it was another thing neuvillette hated during movements like these . . . you wore gloves. he couldn't feel your skin, it made him want to cry!

"what's the safeword?" you ask him, cane now in hand—the cold metal of his sends a shiver down his spine when you trace his skin with it. "h-hydro . . . " neuvillette mumbles. a small smile graces your face.

"good. you get ten strokes . . . that's all. now you will count, every. single. stroke. if you mess up, we'll have to restart, and i'll continue until you get it right. and finally, you are not allowed to cum without permission, is that clear?" your voice is unusually soft, yet if he looked back, he would see the lustful and cruel look in your eyes. "yes. crystal clear." he can practically feel your smile in response to his words. your lips press against his temple gently before his own cane suddenly comes in contact with his skin.

"a-AHN! mhn . . . o-one." luckily, you were using the wooden part of his cane. however, that didn't mean it didn't hurt. the soft paleness of his skin is reddened. a chuckle leaves your lips, "imagine how much more fun this would be if you had a vagina . . . "

his eyes widen at that, never had he thought you'd be into that kind of thing. nor did he think those words would leave your lips. the worst part however, was how it turned him on. his neglected cock twitches against your thigh at the words. "oh? is that appealing to you? having a woman's genitals? hm, i wonder . . . how wet would you be after one stroke? soaked? or perhaps you'd try and hold it in, hm?" your series of questions only makes his face burn more.

a smile graces your face as you can hear the pitter patter of the rain drops on the windowsill. your questions were terrible, but he wanted to know. he wondered what it would be like if you were torturing him with a vagina instead of a penis.

"it's raining already, dear. i've barely even started . . . " you tease and chuckle at him. "a-apologies, my king," he stutters, gripping onto the cloth of your pants. "forgiven."

there's a brief moment of silence after that. he wonders if you're enjoying the sight of him, or if you're teasing him. he turns to look at you, the words on his lips interrupted. "your majes—aAaahHhN!" he moans as the wood strikes his skin again. the skin of his ass a deep red. "t-two! mhn—!" he feels the material of the gloves, grope and massage his fresh stroke, a wince leaving his lips at the touch. "good," you coo. "such a good servant i have . . . "

the strokes continue, the wood striking dangerously close to his full and red balls, the ones you refuse to let him empty. "ah—my kinnnghH!" he'll sob with his lips trembling.

he pleads as if he could get out of this situation. well—he could; however, he doesn't. he refuses to use that fated safeword. no—he loves it. as much as he hates the pain, he loves it. especially because he's being punished by you, his king. he'd gladly let you ruin him in exchange for no one else being able to experience you like this. to which you fullfil his wishes. "ssss—seven!" he yelps.

the cane stops in the air. "seven?" you ask him. that was wrong, you weren't on seven. "y-yes?" neuvillette starts to question his answer, and when in his peripheral vision he sees your eyes give him a sympathetic look—he knew he was wrong.

your hand grips the base of his horns, a whimper leaving his lips as you pull his head up "ngh—ugh!" his lips tremble at the force, especially on his horns. because despite no dragon, including you, saying it . . . your horns were sensitive—specifically the base of them. "six, darling. it was six." you really do feel bad for the citizens of fontaine, plagued with this rough rain, but this was a sight you needed to see.

the hydro sovereign, back arched and tip leaking onto the floor, his eyes nearly rolled back, and fat tears streaming down his now red cheeks. his head hands, a small puddle of drool growing on the floor from him.

such a powerful being, reduced to nothing for his king, he truly is loyal. and yet, he isn't even done!

sobs rack his frame as he desperately keeps track, having to start over once more in the midst of this. his lower eyelids were red and puffy, stained with tears as he finally finished correctly. "TEN! ten, it's ten!" he whines. oh, he looks so beautiful!

you chuckle and finally put the cane down. looking beneath you, a puddle of pre-cum is in your sight; however, he hasn't cum yet! his listening skills were quite admirable, if you had only had his skills millenia ago. "i suppose you finally deserve my touch," you mumble, and the man in your lap visibly perks up at that comment. "p-pleashh! i desir—i want . . . i—!" his effort in forming words were quite adorable to you. "shh, i understand," you interrupt his words.

taking off your gloves, you touch his soft skin for the first time that night. neuvillette whimpers in happiness at the warmth of your hands—the skin to skin contact.

your hands knead his soft and sore skin, cooing to him as you do, whispering words of pride for him. your fingertips, calloused from war and past experiences, trail along his spine, simply touching him. "calm enough?" you chuckle, "i'm sure you dying to cum . . . get on the bed." neuvillette hurries onto the bed, wincing at the lingering pain. but he remains on his stomach, as up for you.

moving the cane from the bed, you crawl onto it, hovering over him. a smile is on your face as you hear the rain die down. it's not as rough as a few minutes ago, just a drizzle . . . although, that would likely change in less than a minute.

neuvillette feels two of your thick fingers touch the rim of his hole. your index slips in easily, your middle stretches him, testing how loose he is. "how long did you play with your ass, hm? that needy for your king? all you had to do was call my name . . . " your voice turns to a low whisper, his cheeks reddened before he watches you grab the bottle of lube.

he hears your pants unzip and fall, your lands lubing your cock for him. carlessly tossing the bottle wherever you lean over him.

"are you ready?" neuvillette feverishly nods, even poking his as out more for you. a smile leaves your lips as you press your tip to the rim, well your first tip. the second one is light pressing agsins his balls, leaking pre cum.

slowly but surely, you pushed your first cock inside of him, the other rubbing against his own cock. "ooooOOh! a-AH!" the dragon below you whines, you're quite surprised he hasn't completely lost control of his human form. it wouldn't be a surprise if he did.

and just as your thoughts ends, his hands claw at the sheets, turning light blue. all the way up to his elbows was there the color of the water before it ended, the color gradient and fading into his normal human skin color. the marks of hydro on his arms appear, his light blue tail flows as he looses control of his form. his back arched beautifully for you. he hears you laugh quietly at him, whining quietly at your hand stroking him. "are you ready?" your soft voice rings in his ears. "yes . . . "

he whimpers when he feels you lean down and kiss the nape of his neck. he feels your hips retract, his walls gripping your cock. "are you trying to break my dick? calm yourself," you chuckle and slam your cock back into him.

"a-apologies!" he chokes out, eyes crossed. "oh—you're so b-big!" your cock feels like a heaven he shouldn't be permitted to. it felt so good. every inch of his body has memorized you, just as you have him. your cock rubbing against his prostate felt like a gift from the gods. then again, you—you are his god. it didn't help that your second cock was frotting tips with his. your precum mix and fall with your thrusts, his legs trembling as it becomes harder to resist cumming. "you've taken it before, your alright," you coo.

full, was a word to describe this moment. although, the word 'pain' could be included. your hips roughly slap against his already sore skin, his ass jiggling with each thrust, his pale lips trembling. pain, is the word he could use to describe his need. the need to cum that he hasn't been granted. the both of you are sure his balls are red, his tip matching angrily as he desprately needs to cum. neuvillette sniffs, small tears spilling from his eyes. this always happens. the most he's every shown is emotion, is during sex.

but he couldn't curse it, he couldn't beg for it to stop . . . if it was his king granting him a way to express himself he'd gladly welcome it. "cum . . . may i? ple-please?!"

a sob is accompanied with his words. although, it is warranted. how could he not cry when you've purposefully angled yourself so your cock rams into his prostate. the downpour of rain continues, and neuvillette was going to loose his mind. "please! your maj—ngh! a-AH! my king! i—" he was prepared to plead and cry, anything to receive your cum and his own release.

"go on." his glossy eyes widen, he hadn't actually expected you to say yes. you had been cruel to him lately. what had changed? "put on your listening ears, dearest . . . "

"cum."

a loud whine and a cry of your title leaves his lips. his body shivers, his claws tearing at the light blue sheets, and his hole milking your cock. you grunt, roughly slamming your hips into him once more, eyes rolling back as you cum. when you frott tips neuvillette cums as well, a load of yours dumped inside of him and a load onto him.

"hah . . . thank you," neuvillette mumbles, blinking his low-lidded eyes. "thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

it was adorable . . . how he'd always thank you for allowing him to cum. "always so polite, hm?" you grin and kiss his temple, gently wiping his tears. "you're welcome, my love." a smalle smile grows on his face at the nickname.

the soft sounds of rain die down, a few sniffs still left in the hydro dragon below you. he's such a good servant to you, perhaps even the most loyal! well, morax might have him beat . . . but as a warm hole for you who's always ready, neuvillette takes the cake. "let's clean you up, hm? i won't make you cry anymore—tonight." neuvillette whines at your last words, but he's proud of himself for taking his punishment.

wait—what was he being punished for?

[sgiandubh]

Jottings: Season 7, episode 8. Just fucking try me

By TPTB's Sovereign Decree, this season is - as we all know - split in two, which proved to be at the same time abysmally disrespectful to ***'s subscribers, frustrating - to say the least- to Netflixers, but involuntarily prescient, given the current SAG-AFTRA stalemate. The protracted strike scenario (still a possibility) would have truly flunked OL, drowning it in a sea of irrelevance and effectively making all promo impossible. So, let us count our blessings and bide our time: it ain't over till the fat lady sings. For the time being, we are still haunted by Sinéad's moving huskiness. For the sake of speculation only, I wonder if they are going to stick with this option until the official end of Season 7, as an homage of sorts. Or promote somebody else, while time and space are still available to do so.

You are definitely going to need tissues for this one. And any random type of your favorite comfort food. It is intense. It is almost impeccable. SS & RR sketches are tolerably short. S is supercalifragilistic. C is giving it her all and she is just perfect. And all the rest are flawless. So, pardon the sarcasm deficit and perhaps also my less fluid quill: you surely know, by now, my struggle with encomium is real.

The bonnie wee swordsman moment immediately brought to this book outsider's mind the exceptional fanfic author on AO3. So, if you still missed Flood My Mornings, by some obscure glitch in the Matrix, do give it a try. It is one of my top 3 , with #1 being @zeya-zg's TRS (it packs a punch, takes great risks and does so with grace). And yes - blasphemy ensues - the swordsman's fic is simply better than Herself in so, so many ways. A good starting point for a Droughtlander of undetermined amplitude (what in the name of hoo-ha is 'the story continues next year' supposed to mean?), for example. But I digress.

With Saratoga 2.0 in plain, inevitable sight, I incorrectly presumed we would see the blue light mojo - is it in Bees...? more plausibly so - and I am glad C saved JAMMF's finger. My sick mind did try to imagine a mutilated limb at some point in time, failed to do so and had to reboot entirely. I am grateful to the writer for having spared me a potential ordeal, in this respect. I am, however, less grateful to the same writer for butchering up to the point of no return the very delicate scene between Rachel Hunter and Young Ian, who initially fail to get their (impossibly to reach) bearings. It feels contrived at first, reads as injudicious as trying to become proficient in Thai after spending three hours on Duolinguo and jumps on the storyline's windshield out of virtually nowhere. The main weak point of this season (spare SS/RR's endless death row sojourn) has to be the blatant injustice done by the writers to characters I wanted to see and hear more of: the Hunter siblings, Buck Mackenzie and yes, William himself.

Speaking of William, there is an epic but fleeting moment outside Simon Fraser's tent, just after Jamie gives him his tricorn hat, that made me wonder out loud. Who are you, first and foremost, Ellesmere: a courtier? a soldier? a son? All three avatars briefly cross his face and if that is not prowess, I don't know what is. Enthusiastic kudos, again.

Cynical, lunatic, despicable me ugly cried three times in a row. Laudanum. Simon Fraser. The Scottish shores. That is a lot for one single intake.

Spoiler: I must have eaten something that disagreed with me. For such an inconsistent character, Simon Fraser saved his soul with this intense, dignified and subdued moment. There is something akin to a Roman deathbed scene one could perhaps find in Tacitus' Histories, essentially thanks to S's perfectly mastered gravitas. So yes, you can cry for the sudden demise of a secondary character you had no sympathy for and on top of that be surprised by your own tears.

A death that proves instrumental for their return to Scotland. And maybe it is time we acknowledge the simple fact that Scotland never really was just a trope of all this intricate narrative scaffolding, but a character in its own right. It is alive and it prompts the kind of raw, irrational emotions able to make your tears well up all the same in Bilbao, in Vancouver, in Seattle, in Athens or in Cairo. And it doesn't matter if you could not place Inverness on a map before finding out that well, people do disappear all the time, or if you were haunted since forever by majestic visions of glens & lochs. You will fall and you will fall hard, despite all the misgivings and the shortcomings, of which there are many.

We leave them teary-eyed on a boat sailing near the Scottish shores. It is a carefully chosen and very effective parting moment. Overall, this was an excellent half-season, if you chose to ignore Mordor's endless, reckless and soulless bitching. I sometimes wish for all these people to suddenly develop an interest for origami or find another obsessable rookie duo or simply try to be happy on their own. Nothing more, but nothing less.

This Droughtlander will be a massive pain in the rear. Mark me. And I am finally allowed to hope for better sleep patterns. But hey, no regrets: it was worth it, always is. They are worth it. A lot.

Gif choice could only involve a ship. Credit given to @avasetocallmyown. Very elegant :)

[cutegirlmayra]

Prompt: The latest battle with eggman send Amy and Sonic deep into the wilderness. Communicators broken, trackers busted, and Sonic breaks a leg leaving Amy to find them food, shelter and protect Sonic. While they rest Amy asks Sonic questions about their relationship that she's always wanted to know but too scared to ask. They talk but are discovered and Amy has to fend off the robot until Tails finds them. After they're saved Sonic has a new appreciation for Amy and is happy she's in his life.

Prompts are on shutdown EVERYWHERE, posting on my other writing sites DOES NOT mean you get your prompt done XD It’s only through here, on Tumblr, when the GRAND REOPENING is announced, which it is NOT. Thank you, lovely Cuties~ I’m sorry it’s taking so long, I’m trying to finish Fanfiction TAT

Prompt:

A spinning, spiky blue ball revs itself up in the air at a high-pitched frequency, dropping down almost with an intense sense of gracefulness as it tears seamlessly through Eggman’s latest doom’s day device.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!” Eggman grips his head with both his massive, puffy gloves and reels his head back, “I won’t let you get away with this! Not this time, Hedgehog!” Stomping around his large ship, he slams his hand on a button which triggers a lever he pulls down, thus activating a flipping panel on the ground that looks like a car’s gas pedal which he stomps on, and in turn lowers a dangling line above his head with a triangular grip that is meant to be tugged.

Still fuming, grinding his teeth against each other, he growls and reaches up like a train conductor and pulls it, “Take this! You spiny little cretiiiinnn!!!”

With a howling roar, spit flying from his agape mouth, Eggman’s ship lowered the tip of its nose, making the haul of its stomach ‘chin-dip’ and slam down to the ground.

Sonic, still well-within the confines shredding through the ship’s interior, suddenly found his once-smooth aerial dive now wonkily swerving before turning horizontal.

As Eggman laughed, Sonic’s spin ball started creating heat and pressure… Sonic didn’t stop the rotation, but soon was slowly breaking through the hard metal one more and popped out of a hallway, moving now like a spinning-top on his side.

Eggman’s face dropped, “WHHHAATT???!!!” He slammed his hands down, looking with horror and shock at the cameras and following the image as he sweated in fear.

The Cameras zoomed in, and it showed Sonic using a single toe, perfectly placed on the tip of his foot, to keep himself spinning at such high speeds while turned on his side.

“Curse that infernal-!” Eggman smushed his face with gripping fingers, before a robot tugged on his coat and made him look down, “Hmm?” He saw the robot pull out a crowbar, and point to it.

Eggman blinked twice��� before smirking wickedly to him…

When Sonic burst through the doors of the control room, balancing out his spinning top self and wobbling to try and locate what to shred into next, the tiny robot by the side of the doors, hiding from sight, swung and hit his spinning leg.

There was a crack and Sonic unspun with a dramatic pose of spiraling in the air, his eyes squinted shut in pain before Tails’s X-Tornado dived and shot through the window, making air burst into the space and–as most vacuums do–thrust Sonic out of the room and be dragged by the sky out into the open space.

“Grr… Trying to get away that easily, eh?” Thinking he had the upper hand now, even though he was kneeling on the ground and having a hand bring down his goggles from the rushing wind, Eggman still tried to sound cocky and confident.

“You there!” He pointed to the robot who was on the ground now, his hands under him, surprised that plan actually worked and jolted with a spark at being addressed, turning to his commander and sovereign Eggman. “Don’t just lay about!” He swiped his arm out, “Do something!!!”

Realizing the Doctor was putting everything onto his tiny computerized brain’s hand to hatch another genius but simple idea, the robot waddled over a bit awkwardly to the cabinet.

Delicately, he opened it and flinched at the door swinging open, then pulled tenderly out a bazooka.

“Oh, I forgot we had one of those…” Eggman’s face looked a little like a man having forgotten where he put his keys.

Cocking it, the little metal and cylinder soldier began to try and walk towards the window before the wind began to pull him out as well.

His tiny little tin legs wiggled vigorously, but his firm grip on the large firepower he was wielding didn’t budge while he spun slowly during the drop into the air.

“TINY TIMMM!!!!” Eggman cried out, holding a hand out to him, “YOU BETTER BLAST HIM WHILE YOU’RE OUT THEEERREEE!!! This isn’t a vacation, you know! You’re still on duty!!!” He gripped that hand into a fist, showing that he was giving an order, not a moment of compassion.

The Robot, having oily tears in their eyes, realized that Eggman just gave him a name.

Even though the irony of breaking Sonic’s leg, and the christmas season didn’t quite register with the robotic soldier, he took that as a sign of promotion into Eggman’s steely, black heart and was determined to not fail him.

He turned his body toward looking to the earth, and watching to see where Sonic landed…

“Soooniiiccc!!!” Tails cried out, turning around the plane but Eggman was sure to grab at the controls and fire at him, making Tails unable to pursue Sonic’s descent. “Err..!” He squinted an eye, having to pull up. “I can’t reach him!”

“What?” Knuckles, on his communicator, looked down at it as Amy covered her mouth in alarm. “What do you mean..?” His eyes shook a second and looked up with Amy, as they each scanned the skies…

Amy then gasped, “Look!” She pointed one hand out towards the flaming blue speck in the sky, falling towards the jungle-like forest, and another on Knuckles’s shoulder to gain his attention to the detail.

“Grr..!!! That lousy-!” Knuckles shook a fist, but pulled Amy up over his head.

“W-Wah-Whaaa!!!” Amy shook out her arms, “K-Knuckles!” She wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but suddenly feeling like he was going to throw her, she summoned her Piko-Piko Hammer.

“Grrr… I can’t fly to him in time! You’ll have to reach him on your owwwnnnn…!!!” Just as her instincts had foretold, he launched her through the air and she curled, her little red and white-trimmed dressing making it look like a badminton ball flapped wildly as she spun while still keeping her dress on.

Her hammer rotated so profusely, that as her own spinball hit against the trees, bounced off the ground, or slammed against rock, it kept her momentum moving and propelling her ever closer to the falling Sonic.

Finally, soaring up with one final, hard hit to the ground, she unspun and reached for Sonic… noticing the pain in his face and braving through the flames of his burning body to catch him before a deadly fate.

She landed on a tree’s branch, but it fell and they both started to fall painfully through scratching twigs and leaves.

When Amy woke up… snow had begun to fall in the forest, and her little nose wiggled a second before her mouth wound-up twice and sneezed, pushing the small flake off.

“Emm… S-Sonic?” She rubbed her head, slowly getting herself onto her rear and sitting somewhat more upright. “That was a rough landing…” She groaned through the aches, but then gasped when she remembered, “Sonic!!!” She started to grip and throw up the leaves below her, searching frantically for him.

A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face, gritting her teeth as her eyes shook in loving worry, ‘His leg was just dangling kinda weirdly in the air, just then… Was it injured?’ She kept calling his name… to no avail.

Her chest fell and rose with cold air quickly icing her resolve, stinging at her heart already pumping with the warm adrenaline to save the man she called hero… whom she loved, dearly.

“SOOONIIICC!!!” She finally let out a single, elongated note of his familiar name…

Silence… the snowy forest…

Her breaths clung to the air like hot mist, pocketing that space before disappearing as quickly as blowing a bubble to pop. Scrambling, she got up to locate her communicator.

Pieces of the broken device were pulled out and held up to her face, making her look down as though her heart had sucken to that cold ground as well…

“No… Did I not…” Her shoulders bounced, tears unable to remain corralled in the pools of her lower eyelids. “Did I not make it in time..?”

Her hand shook with that open thought, as the pieces of metal slipped through her fingers, falling to the light snowy patches below her feet.

“Sonic…” she gripped her fists and felt herself faltering in being able to remain upright, hunching over. “Sonic…” She felt she was at blame, and slunk to her knees, freezing her even further to what could be the harsh reality of the situation…

“No… I won’t believe it.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her arm. “I… I gotta keep looking for Sonic..!” She bit her words as though to hold them fast to her heart, “Sonic…” She muttered once more, “Soooniiiccc!!” She reared herself up and began to charge about the area, searching everywhere, leaving no square foot unmarked by her own shoe’s print.

She could hear the sky battle above her head, and looked to see that Tails was still engaged with the now, downwards angle of the Eggman fleet’s main air-cruiser.

Her eyes couldn’t help but tremble, her body leaning away before her hands flung up and tightened around each arm. “I can’t… I gotta keep looking for him.” Her lips felt chapped and the cold only reminded her of the drying of her tears… before she quickly aboutfaced to keep looking for him.

Walking up a hill, treading through its piles of snow, she looked up to see the sky was now blanketed in the smoke of Eggman’s senseless war. “Guess I can’t rely on Tails or Eggman as a point-marker now.” She blinked through the chill of the wind, and sighed as she tried to figure out where she hadn’t looked.

“Could he have really been tossed from me so far..? OFFPH!” Tripping over some blue grass, she had scraped her knee and got up, shaking her head from having snow blanket it for a moment-

Blue… Grass?

Her eyes widened and she lifted her leg to see the gentle sway of the blue quills, just the tip sticking out from beneath the snow.

“SOONIICC!!!” Her heart about leaped out through her flailing to get back up, tugging on the quill and realizing it was fully stuck under the snow. She began to dig like her life depended on it, and… to a degree, he was.

“Sonic, breath! Speak! Wiggle! Do… something!” She tried to speak out before finally getting an arm and exclaiming loudly in surprised triumphant that she had gotten to him.

She tugged and began to pull him out, but he felt like dead weight.

Panic lit up her senses and now, she couldn’t feel the cold, but hoisted him up onto her back and began to run down the hill, hurrying to where they had last been, finding an open tree’s roots there and finding it a good, hollow den to at least try and wake Sonic up in.

Using the fallen leaves, she constructed a small bed for him, laying him down as saw that one of his legs fully detached from the bone.

She covered her mouth, “Oh no…” The pain must have knocked him out… he was probably passed out from the wind blasting by him on his fall anyway…

She gently touched the burnt ends of his quills and fur… Her eyes bunching up as though unable to see him in such a state.

“Oh, Sonic…” She brought his head up and tried to warm him, blowing lightly warm air out of her throat to his face.

“Please, Sonic… You have to at least show me you’ll be alright…”

After a while, Sonic woke up to find his leg was perfectly straightened by two twigs, and someone had put it back in it’s socket… “Ah… Glad I was asleep for that.” He twitched at the pain but tried to move to turn around. However, it was too much for the poor hedgehog, having endured firepower beyond normal mortal means, he couldn’t possibly stand for the fiery pain of a severely broken leg.

“Gahh…” He tried to lean up, “Who… Where am I?” He noticed a fire was burning, and looked strangely at the comforting glow, realizing he wasn’t alone.

“Tails?” He first questioned the thought, ‘But then… he’d just take me back in the X-Tornado… I’d be having warm soup by now…’ He squinted one eye down and finally was sitting upright, being careful to not move the lame leg, “Knuckles?” It was reasonable, but that echidna wouldn’t be foraging for berries or anything. He’d imagine Knuckles would have sat by the fire, the earth too hard to dig through during the winter seasons…

So that meant…

“Amy?” He raised an eyebrow, as though second-guessing that before hearing a bright voice exclaim in joy at hearing her name being called.

“Oh! Sonic! You’re awake!”

Waiting a moment, he smiled as Amy came rushing in, holding more firewood that she quickly just dumped to the side, some catching fire but she didn’t care at the moment. “SOONIICC!!! I was so worried about you!” she hugged him which made him have to hold back a cry, his banded leg with two sticks keeping it from twisting and turning further only moved slightly from Amy’s tackling hug.

She was warm, though… and her voice filled him with ease.

He hugged her back, “Thank you.” He calmly stated, “But what happened?” He looked to her face, then outside to the rain of explosions that sounded in the blurry, clouded sky… “Is that… smoke?”

“Em.” Amy nodded, letting him go and tilting her body in the same direction as the sounds, “The communicator broke on our fall, I don’t know how long Tails has been fighting in the air, but I’m pretty sure Eggman and our friends have lost sight of where he landed.” She lowered her shoulders a bit, then rotated one around to stretch it. “Hoo…”

“Amy? You okay?” He noticed she looked a little worse for wear as well, “You’re stone cold to the touch.” He placed a glove to her arm before reflexing off of it, then placing it there again. “How long were you out there..?”

She smiled, glad he couldn’t recollect how close to death he was while in the cold of the soggy snow he was buried under moments before.

“It’s nothing~” She chimed, “I’m a tough girl, as well as cute, after all!” She put her hands to the sides of her cheeks, trying to get him to not worry about her so much.

“I think we should probably move when the smoke rolls out… or when the gunfire finally stops.” She admitted, looking to the skies again and dropping her hands to her knees.

Sonic later asked her about how she got to him, and she explained the whole story… eeexcept the part about him almost suffocating under snow.

They talked and ate some of the wild onion grass she had collected, finding not a scrap left on the trees or bushes, figuring the other little critters had stored up for the coming winter anyway.

Not really liking the taste of it, Sonic just tried to see if he could hop on one leg, but Amy refused to let him go out to fight again.

Reluctantly, Sonic decided it was only polite to thank his brave rescuer by waiting it out.

But all the while… they worried about their friends well-beings… as the canons kept going off relentlessly.

“... You think they’re winning?” Amy asked, “Or… Eggman is at least… missing?” She flinched as a large blast seemed to hit the ground a couple long miles away from them.

Sonic, with his hands behind his head, and a blade of onion grass sticking out of his mouth, took a frustrated breath in and sighed out just as quickly. “We can’t hide out here forever, Amy… My leg isn’t gonna heal that quickly.” He tried to reason with her, and she knew that was probably right… but…

“Just… a little longer… let’s believe in Tails and Knuckles… to solve this on their own, okay?” She looked back with a forced smile, her hand gripping her heart. “Seeing you like this… it makes me… unable to let you go… right now.” She admitted, lowering her head and not having the courage to look at him in shame.

He eyed her with a turn of his gaze, not moving his head, before closing his eyes and not saying anything more about it.

The wind howled… before a foot fall was heard and Amy perked up, her ears twitched and she rushed out from the intertwined roots, “Knuckles!?” She exclaimed, more than expecting to see he had found them… before…

“... Sonic! Roll! Now!” She threw herself back to him as he looked to see a large missile fired into the hole.

Crying out in pain, he rolled as the blast sent the two flying to the back of the hollow tree.

Amy picked up Sonic’s spiky spinball, “Don’t uncurl! Whatever you do!” She cried out, as Sonic also–through immense pain–called her name but she was already grabbing a stick from the fire, the rest of the roots on fire from the blast anyway, and charged out of the large space.

She gasped as she noticed a small Eggman Robot, cocking the bazooka which had smoke slithering out of its mouth.

“You…” Amy’s eyes narrowed, her anger giving her the needed heat throughout her body, ready to fight.

“He’s already injured! Leave us alone!” She shouted out, but Sonic couldn’t help and voice his concerns as well.

“Amy! Your back!” She could feel something cool drip down in different areas from her exposed back… but it was already frostbitten and she didn’t dare think about what he was referring to.

“I’m fine. You just stay put and in your ball, Sonic.” She breathed through the pain that was now burning from her back.

However… this sting was like when she first lost Sonic, it moved her forward, adrenaline coursing through her like Sonic moving through a winding course.

Amy set Sonic down, “Amy!” he cried out again, moving in wobbly attempts to ‘roll’ after her as she stepped up to bat.

“It’s okay, I’m your strength too, Sonic!” She pulled the hammer up behind her shoulders, “Ready…” she narrowed her eyes, skidding a foot forward as though truly a baseball pro up for bat.

Sonic tilted his rolled body against her other, back leg, “Amy…” He couldn’t argue with that.

“... Aren’t I..?”

Uncurling, Sonic groaned out as the leg–the wooden beams now snapped and bent–was forced back into a straight position. His own problems meant nothing to him right now, though.

He looked up at Amy, seeing the wavering belief in her eyes, remembering that for a moment… she may have been the ultimate end for Sonic The Hedgehog…

Her memory went back to having no sign of him… and that haunted her… Was she really able to be there for Sonic… the way he was always there for her?

A shadow rose to meet her own on the ground, lightly shaded, as the clouds of smog were starting to clear out.

She gasped, looking down to see Sonic’s silhouette was on one leg, his arms then trailing up to her own around her hammer.

She could feel the warm and comforting breath he spoke by her cheek, telling her to wait on his signal.

The robot fumbled a little getting the bazooka back in order, but then went to fire.

“... Now.” Sonic’s voice was light, but his grip held stronger around her hand.

She swung with everything she had while Sonic fell back to the ground, unable to hold himself up much longer due to the crippling pain.

The missile fired but Amy heard Sonic say, “Now let go!!!!” In a ripping sound that shredded through her heartstrings… realizing how much he was suffering, but how that simple act showed her that he did trust in his friends–especially her in this moment–to get through it.

She let the hammer go and balanced herself, her dress spinning to one side of her body before the hammer’s top plugged and jammed itself into the firing bazooka.

The Robot made computerized noises of horror before exploding along with the gun.

Sonic and Amy fell by each other’s side in the blast, and Amy gripped onto Sonic.

In the cold of falling snow… the two breathed through great pain…

Shared pain… as Sonic’s and Amy’s eyes looked up to each other’s… and a smile greater than pain emerged upon both their faces.

“We… erk… did it.” Amy’s back jerked from the tortuous mix of frost and burn mingling upon its bare skin…

“No, Amy.” Sonic also couldn’t keep both eyes opened, but squinted one. His charming smile never faded though, “You did it… You’ve always got my back.” He gritted his teeth, but tried to make it look like a bright smile. “Thank you… again… A-Amy…”

Knuckles soon found them, Tails flew them home, and they ended up resting on opposite couches from each other.

While she read the insisted book about King Arther, the one Sonic kept trying to convince her had happened to him being pulled into it, making him miss one of their planned dates, he also reached over and held her hand, pretending to fall asleep.

She smiled as she read more of the book… wondering all the while…

“... Sonic?”

She knew he wouldn’t answer.

“If I am your strength… why do I feel like… I’m not?” She put the book down over her chest, turning to the couch’s spine to avoid looking over to him. “If I was your strength… I wouldn’t have shut you into that tree hole den… I would have trusted that I could get you out of there… carry you to safety, and reunite with Tails and Knuckles again to save the day.”

While she spoke, Sonic pretended to be asleep, but listened closely.

“... Then… When you braved the pain of your leg to stand beside me..? I knew then… that while you were down, so was my strength.” She teared up, “But when you got up…” Her voice began to wane and take on a higher tune, as she wiped her eyes with the back of her glove. Her lips trembled, but she continued, “I… I need you more than I think you need me, Sonic… And that… That worries me.” She sniffled, “Cause… Cause what if I’m needy? What if… without you… I’m nothing short of a useless girl?”

Sonic made a loud snore, then. It cut her off as she said ‘useless’.

She turned to see his head straight up at the ceiling, his mouth open wide,... “Ammmy…” He lightly spoke, as though asleep. “Ammmyyy…” His hand acted as though reaching for her hand, but it was already there…

That’s when she noticed, her grip on his hand had slipped somewhat, and she held it tightly but gently once more.

Sonic’s breathing went back to normal… and Amy smiled till her cheeks hurt.

“Oh, Sonic…” She giggled through her light tears and wiped them all away this time. “Even if I don’t understand what strength I give you… Just knowing… that together, we’re stronger? That’s enough for me… Cause right now, you getting better is all I care about.” She sighed and went back to the book.

She gasped when she looked at her hand and saw Sonic had tugged it closer.

“A-ah… Ow, ow, Sonic!” He was dragging her off the other couch. “Sonic! Ow! I’ll fall!”

He started to turn, as though in his sleep, snoring again and making Amy stumble out of the couch as he wrapped her arm around his waist.

She pouted a cute blush, but then sighed, “I know you’re not asleep, silly… Your actual snore is totally different.” She gave in, moving her bandaged self to lift up his head and place him on her lap, patting his shoulder and humming a tune.

Sonic closed his mouth, the jig was up, and he just smiled as she tried to actually lull him to sleep.

Though he had to let go of her hand for her to do that, he reached under his body to get at the hand that was resting just by his neck… and she smiled at how sweet that was…

“... You are my strength, Sonic.” She leaned down, continuing to hum.

When she had actually fallen to sleep, Sonic placed her laying on the couch he was momentarily on, replacing her, and before hopping to the other one, placed a hand on her head and lightly whispered, “You’re more than my strength, Amy… You're my whole heart, entirely.”

In the morning, Amy woke up to find Tails in a tissy, worried sick as Sonic had somehow miraculous snuck out of his workshop home and was nowhere to be found.

A moment of panic did course through Amy, before thinking to herself, ‘... If he’s strong again, then I’ll be strong too.’ and went back to not worrying about him… resting… as she smiled at feeling secure again in that–as long as Sonic was up and about, she’d be pretty soon as well!

[dereliction-if]

Ros & mc are running from something and decide to hide in a small closet, now they’re stuck very close to each other 🤭, reactions?

Dear Anon, this might disappoint you but...

Neither Cedric (The Commander) nor Havu (The Mercenary) would get into the closet with you. They would push you in and fight off whatever is outside to keep you safe. Cedric relying on skills and Havu playing dirty if necessary... Once danger is over, Havu will open the closet door with a smirk... "Isn't it much cozier without a monster lurking outside?" They ask, leaning against the frame for a short moment, before they step inside... Cedric would hesitate before opening the closet, taking several deep breaths. That was close. He takes a moment to collect himself before he opens the door to see which state you are in. He seems tense when your eyes meet but he doesn't say a single word before he grabs your arm and pulls you out, his jaw clenched and his eyes piercing into yours.

Regarding the rest... Solas / Sonea (The Heir) - You'd both quickly jump into the closet, silently closing the door. You're breathless, panic written all over your face, clearly visible for S. Without any hesitation they draw closer, pulling you into a tight hug, their arm around your shoulders, with their hand pressing your head against their body. You both close your eyes and your breathing slowly calms down. It seems time is standing still and neither of you knows how long you have been inside when S suddenly lifts your chin up so you can meet their gaze. The sweetest smile gracing their lips before they move closer to place a delicate kiss on yours, your both hearts suddenly starting to beat fast again, when the kiss turns into a desperate fight of tongues - just then, the closet door opens...

Jia (The Mage) - You experience Jia in an unusual serious state. When you are about to open your mouth to say something, their finger is already on your lips, their focus remaining on what's outside. They listen carefully to any sounds outside the closet, their ear against the closet door. You two stay like this for a moment and when Jia turns to you, they notice their finger is still on your mouth, your lips slightly parted. When their gaze falls on them, they swallow, their eyes fixed on the building smile on your face. Suddenly they look up to see your eyes are already on them and they apologize, quickly withdrawing their finger. Jia ain't sure why exactly that felt... strange... strange?

Darius / Daria (The Knight) - Is a bit confused why you pulled them into the closet because they would've faced whatever was outside. But you looked scared and they didn't dare to let even an arms length of danger between you and them, so they had to follow you into the closet. And now they are here, with you.... the proximity overwhelming. They have never been so close to you before and right now, being almost pressed against you, they aren't sure whether their heart is racing because of what's outside or inside the closet. One thing is for sure, all they can focus on right now is you while their eyes are glued to yours.

Regarding Amara (The Sovereign)...

She ain't running and she would definitely not get into a closet. You will be send to safety with her companions while she takes care of whatever dared to attack you. But don't worry, she will be back soon. Very soon... and make sure you are alright... distracting you from any tension if necessary... and even if not necessary, because she feels like she needs it herself.

[darthstitch]

fic snippet: as you wish

Now here was a true, proper rogue.

Leather, yes, a black doublet with faded bits of gold, straining a bit against broad shoulders, pants that clung sinfully to a pair of handsome legs. He was, of course, armed to the teeth - a sword, a pair of daggers, possibly more hidden about his person.

White teeth gleamed in a charming grin. The rogue bows with a graceful flourish. "Give you good morrow, my sweet lord."

Dream of the Endless knows perfectly well how to respond to such impudence. Such audacity. It is very easy to slip on his most imperious airs, to remind everyone present that he is a prince, sovereign of his own kingdom. "Sweet? I know who you are, foul villain."

A gloved hand is pressed artfully to his chest. "I? How could I ever offend one so fair as you?"

"Tangina. Here we fuckin' go again."

"I blame you for this entirely, Rose Walker."

"Me? I didn't do anything!"

"One of them's your uncle, right?"

"Unfortunately, yes. And I have their braincell at the moment."

"Caw!"

"You got your phone out?"

"Hell yeah, I ain't missing a single blessed thing!"

Dream ignores the peanut gallery composed of his niece, his nephew, his Raven and the history and literature students he and his husband taught. He fully commits himself to the spirit of the role. "You are the Dread Pirate Roberts and you have murdered my true love. I demand satisfaction, sir."

The Dread Pirate Roberts shakes his head. "A dreadful misunderstanding I'm sure. I have killed ever so many 'true loves' I tend to lose track of the buggers." He sighs, even as his hand closes carefully around the hilt of his sword. "Pity. Their sweethearts tended to be faithless creatures, not worth a single tear."

"You dare."

The Dread Pirate Roberts, scourge of the seven seas, master swordsman, barely got his sword up in time against the fair Prince of Stories, wrathful and vengeance driven. Swords clashed and gleamed in the sunlight. Daggers were drawn. They were locked in a deadly, intricate dance, giving no quarter...

The Pirate and the Prince do not kill each other at this time.

"Since when did your Uncle Dream kick so much ass in a freakin' swordfight? I thought he just did the sand thing!"

"Of course Uncle Dream knows how to do more than just the sand thing! He's the Sandman!"

"We know, Jeddie - we just didn't know he was a Jedi, too!"

Everyone's favorite history and literature professors were, incidentally, having too much fun to pay attention to the peanut gallery, coming up with the most ridiculous overblown dramatic lines, barely keeping straight faces. But they did manage, such was their commitment to their chosen roles.

Nobody wanted to admit they sniffled at "Prince Buttercup's" anguished, heartfelt description of his lost love, the simple farmboy Hob.

"Do not mock my grief! I died that day. And now, I shall take you with me!"

Which of course led to this revelation:

"As...you...wish."

Obviously, this sword fight ended with the unmasking of the Dread Pirate Roberts as the Prince's long-lost love. And of course, the performance was capped off with a kiss that didn't really require any acting whatsoever.

It was said that there were five kisses that had been rated the most passionate and the most pure. This one in particular was filled with laughter and love and sunshine.

It was kiss number nine. The tenth one would be along in a very short while and there were endless ones behind it.

Incidentally, the ensuing video capturing all the romantic ridiculousness triggered yet another kilig apocalypse. All in a day's work for everyone's favorite cryptid pair.

-end-

** runs **

Here's the inspiration for the Dread Pirate Hob:

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Morning and Evening by Charles Spurgeon

Morning, May 17th

"Thou art my servant; I have chosen thee." – Isaiah 41:9

If we have received the grace of God in our hearts, its practical effect has been to make us God's servants. We may be unfaithful servants, we certainly are unprofitable ones, but yet, blessed be his name, we are his servants, wearing his livery, feeding at his table, and obeying his commands. We were once the servants of sin, but he who made us free has now taken us into his family and taught us obedience to his will. We do not serve our Master perfectly, but we would if we could. As we hear God's voice saying unto us, "Thou art my servant," we can answer with David, "I am thy servant; thou hast loosed my bonds." But the Lord calls us not only his servants, but his chosen ones--"I have chosen thee." We have not chosen him first, but he hath chosen us. If we be God's servants, we were not always so; to sovereign grace the change must be ascribed. The eye of sovereignty singled us out, and the voice of unchanging grace declared, "I have loved thee with an everlasting love." Long ere time began or space was created God had written upon his heart the names of his elect people, had predestinated them to be conformed unto the image of his Son, and ordained them heirs of all the fulness of his love, his grace, and his glory. What comfort is here! Has the Lord loved us so long, and will he yet cast us away? He knew how stiffnecked we should be; he understood that our hearts were evil, and yet he made the choice. Ah! our Saviour is no fickle lover. He doth not feel enchanted for awhile with some gleams of beauty from his church's eye, and then afterwards cast her off because of her unfaithfulness. Nay, he married her in old eternity; and it is written of Jehovah, "He hateth putting away." The eternal choice is a bond upon our gratitude and upon his faithfulness which neither can disown.

[hiswordsarekisses]

Amy wrote this a very long time ago. And it’s still true today. Fear is dominating so many lives. I was just reading a book from 1957, the year I was born, about how much fear was in the world. And here we are in 2024.

And everyday, something will remind you that you should fear something and you aren’t being anxious enough.

But…..life is also wonderful.

Jesus is still sovereign.

God is still good. The Holy Spirit still does miracles.

True Love will never lose its powerful.

Beauty is still everywhere.

So quit getting so grounded in the garbage, you miss the love, joy and peace of God.

It’s available to everyone!

Constantly, every single day, I’m seeing that climate of fear, keeping so many from freedom and joy.

Recognize the distractions and patterns. Whatever it might be, the anxiety will rise.

The anger, the grief, the despair, the power of the Adversary can taunt our faith.

He will use us, just like he uses others.

We can sound just as hateful, just as critical, just as sarcastic as those oppositional to our message of hope.

Watch this obsession with the

temporal world news, following after fear mongers instead of Jesus. Be wise, not bent on knowing it all. We who know God personally already know.

The world most likely won’t repent today.

But here’s the truth….

You don’t want to eventually be a difficult, sad, anxious, person with attitude, clouded vision, undone hope, negativity, who finds it hard to walk with God, to be filled with the fruit of the Holy Spirit, to be waiting

for a glorious return.

Everything and anything can keep you from living a victorious, grace filled, vivacious, joyful in Christ, life on earth. Yes, it can dominate your life. I’ve seen it on here. You can’t even talk right for the constant feed of fear you pretend not to see.

But….

If you let the noise of what you hear and the blinding of what you see, dominate your moment to moment, you are going to lose your blessings of the eternal: love, joy and peace faster than you can imagine.

Please don’t let living on earth dominate your eternal status.

This. Is. Not. Our. Home.

This ……is all temporal.

You know that if you know Jesus.

It’s subject to constant change and chaos. Don’t you think the Adversary uses the drama to keep us focused on earth and ourselves? He doesn’t want us to walk eternally. People will avoid us, and then where will our opportunity to share the kingdom really go?

Jesus keeps us focused on what matters. That’s why He says to walk in the Spirit. You …..choose your domination.

Please be careful that in your need to know, to warn, to feel you know things nobody knows, to think yourself better, because you stay on top of the undergrounds, to be consumed by the latest tailspin, that you yourself are caught in it, unable to live in victory outside of it.

It’s a foolish idol.

Ask God to show you.

Deception steals from goodness of truth.

Absolutely ….know things.

Use your wisdom wisely.

We have an anchor.

We have a hope.

We have eternal life.

We need to share everlasting life.

Let us ask God to keep us balanced in the way we see the Adversary’s partying. Instead, let us devote ourselves to telling God’s truth. We can’t trust anything else.

Let us absolutely and relentlessly refuse to be dominated by what we see,

hear, or what steals from our peace, love and joy. If we truly believe God is in control, then it’s time to act like ….God is in control.

~Ann Stewart Porter

[orthodoxydaily]

SAINTS&READING: FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2024

october 26_november 8

HOLY AND GLORIOUS GREAT-MARTYR DEMETRIUS THE MYRRH -GUSHER OF TESSALONICA ( 306).

Saint Demetrios suffered in Thessalonica during the reign of Galerius Maximian (c. 306). He belonged to one of the most distinguished families of the province of Macedonia and was widely admired not only for his noble ancestry and grace of bearing but also for virtue, wisdom, and goodness of heart surpassing that of his elders.

The military expertise of Saint Demetrios led Galerius, as Caesar of the Eastern Empire, to appoint him commander of the Roman forces in Thessaly and Proconsul for Hellas. But for all this, Demetrios remained ever aware of the underlying realities of life. Since faith in Christ had touched his heart, all the glory of this world meant nothing to him, and there was nothing he preferred to teaching and preaching the word of God.

Despite the persecution directed against Christians by the Emperor, Saint Demetrios brought a large number of pagans to the faith. His words convinced them because they saw in the righteousness, peace and brotherly love that marked his life an illustration of the truth of which he spoke.

The Emperor Maximian had just won a series of brilliant victories over the Scythians and was on his way back to Rome when he halted at Thessalonica to receive the acclamations of the populace and to offer sacrifices in thanksgiving to the idols. A number of pagans, envious of the success of the Saint, took advantage of the Emperor's presence in the city to denounce Demetrios as a Christian. Maximian's astonishment gave way to violent indignation when he was told that Demetrios' was making use of his official position to spread the faith. Demetrios was summoned and confined in a cell, located in the basement of nearby baths.

Maximian arranged for games and gladiatorial combats to take place in the amphitheater of the city. He had brought with him a man of gigantic stature and Herculean strength called Lyaios, a Vandal by origin. Such was this man's strength and skill in single combat that no one could withstand him. There was in the city a young Christian called Nestor, who observing the empty pride of the Emperor in the victories of his champion, made up his mind to show him that real power belongs to Christ alone. He ran to the baths where Demetrios was imprisoned and asked for the protection of his prayer in going to confront the giant. The Martyr made the sign of the Cross on the brow and the heart of the boy, and sent him like David before Goliath. He reached the amphitheater just as the heralds were crying out on all sides for any who would stand against Lyaios. Advancing towards the Emperor, Nestor threw his tunic to the ground and shouted, "God of Demetrios, help me!" In the first encounter, at the very moment the giant rushed upon him, Nestor slipped aside and stabbed him to the heart with his dagger. There was uproar and amazement at the marvel, and people asked themselves how a mere child, relying neither on strength nor weapons, could so suddenly have brought down the barbarian.

Rather than yield to the sign of the sovereign power of God, the Emperor flew into a rage and ordered the immediate arrest of Nestor and his beheading outside the city. He had heard Nestor calling upon the God of Demetrios and, supposing the Saint had used some kind of witchcraft, Maximian ordered his soldiers to go and thrust Demetrios through with their lances, without trial, in the depths of his prison cell. There were some Christians, including Demetrios' servant Lupus, present at his martyrdom, and when the soldiers had gone, they reverently buried the Saint's body.

It was God's will that the grace with which He filled Saint Demetrios should remain active even after his death. This is why He caused to flow from his body myrrh with a delightful scent, which had the property of healing all who took it as an unction, with faith in the intercession of the Saint. Time and again, during sixteen hundred years, Saint Demetrios has given proof of his benevolent care for the city of Thessalonica and its inhabitants. He has defended them from the attacks of barbarians, preserved them from plague and famine, healed the sick, and comforted the afflicted.

Source: Adapted from The Synaxarion: The Lives of the Saints of the Orthodox Church, Vol. 1, compiled by Hieromonk Makarios of Simonos Petra and translated from the French by Christopher Hookway (Chalkidike, Greece: Holy Convent of the Annunciation of Our Lady, 1998) pp. 481-483.

VENERABLE THEOPHILUS OF THE KIEV CAVES, BISHOP OF NOVGOROD (1482)

 

Saint Theophilus of the Kyiv Caves, Far Caves, and Archbishop of Novgorod was chosen by Lot after the death of the holy hierarch Jonah (November 5). He was elevated to the dignity of Archbishop of Novgorod on December 15, 1472, at Moscow. Until his elevation, he had pursued asceticism in the Otensk monastery.

A harsh destiny was allotted the saint in the guidance of the Novgorod flock. The mayor Martha Boretskaya and her adherents stirred up and agitated the people against the Great Prince of Moscow, Ivan III. The monk Pimen, a Boretskaya partisan, roused enmity against the archbishop in the flock. Some of the Novgorod populace were inclined to go over to the side of Lithuania. Unfaithful to the Moscow principality, they were prepared to fall into apostasy.

Saint Theophilus stopped the rebellious Novgorodians saying, “Do not betray Orthodoxy nor become a flock of apostates. I’ll go back to my humble cell, from which you drew me out to the shame of rebellion.” This letter of disavowal of the saint, written in 1479, is preserved. The short-sighted people did not heed the words of the pastor, and a fratricidal war broke out between Moscow and Novgorod. The defeated Novgorodians were compelled to beg for mercy, and many of them owed their life to the intercession of the saint. In 1480, Saint Theophilus was sent by Ivan III to prison in the Moscow Chudov monastery and “he sat there a full three years, and died there.”

By tradition, when Saint Theophilus lay sick at the Chudov monastery, Saint Niphon of Novgorod (April 8), who is buried in the Kiev Caves of Saint Anthony, appeared to him in a dream. The saint reminded him of his promise to venerate the Kievan wonderworkers. It is said that the holy archbishop went to Kiev, and just as he approached the Dniepr his sickness increased. He received a revelation that although he would not reach the Caves alive, his body would rest in them. This was fulfilled.

His memory is also celebrated with the Synaxis of the Saints of the Kyiv Far Caves on August 28 and with the Synaxis of the Kyiv Caves Fathers on the Second Sunday of the Great Fast.

2 Timothy 2:1-10

1 You therefore, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. 2 And the things that you have heard from me among many witnesses, commit these to faithful men who will be able to teach others also. 3 You, therefore, must endure hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. 4 No one engaged in warfare entangles himself with the affairs of this life, that he may please him who enlisted him as a soldier. 5 Also, if anyone competes in athletics, he is only crowned if he competes according to the rules. 6 The hardworking farmer must first partake of the crops. 7 Consider what I say, and may the Lord give you understanding in all things. 8 Remember that Jesus Christ, of the seed of David, was raised from the dead according to my gospel, 9 for which I suffer trouble as an evildoer, even to the point of chains; but the word of God is not chained. 10 Therefore, I endure all things for the sake of the elect so that they may also obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory.

Matthew 8:23-27

23 Now when He got into a boat, His disciples followed Him. 24 And suddenly a great tempest arose on the sea, so that the boat was covered with the waves. But He was asleep. 25 Then His disciples came to Him and awoke Him, saying, "Lord, save us! We are perishing!" 26 But He said to them, "Why are you fearful, O you of little faith?" Then He arose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. 27 So the men marveled, saying, "Who can this be, that even the winds and the sea obey Him?"

[orthodoxadventure]

A Prayer for the New Year

O Lord our God, You are the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the Creator of time, existing before time and outside of time, the same yesterday, today and forever. You are the Pantocrator, the absolute Ruler who exercises sovereign authority over the entire universe and its laws. You are not limited by any natural events and occurrences, or by our action or inaction. The world is not driven by blind forces, but is governed wisely and lovingly by Your divine Providence.

You, O King and Master of the world, govern by Your almighty will the world You created as a captain governs his ship. We have nothing to be afraid of, as long as You are at the rudder. The very elements of nature obey You. Nothing happens by chance. What happens to us does not happen at random. Not a single hair from our heads falls to the ground without Your powerful will. We are in Your hands. What we are, whatever good we have in us, comes from You, the source of every goodness.

We ask You humbly, our Savior, as we enter this New Year of our salvation, to bless us all; to bless our endeavors, and everything we do. We ask You, O Lord, to bless the time You give us, that we may pass this new year of Your grace and the lifespan You have given us in repentance, forgiveness, patience, tolerance, peace, the fight against our passions, the practicing of the virtues, in doing Your will, not ours, and in accepting it cheerfully, without groaning or complaint.

Grant us, O Father Almighty, sincere faithfulness, wakeful preparedness and active witness, to be strong and grow in faith and love for You, and work diligently for the establishment of Your Kingdom, a Kingdom of peace and justice. Instill in us the longing for the establishment of Your heavenly Kingdom, a Kingdom of everlasting life, peace and joy.

We also beseech You, O Lord, to bless the entire world, and all Nations. Guide them to You, that they may come to know You, the only true God, and to do Your Holy Will. And protect, O Lord, Your Holy Church, everywhere, so that with one voice and one heart we may all praise and glorify Your most Holy and magnificent Name, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, now and forever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

[starryjuicebox]

Beloved (9) - Interruption

Summary: Halsin finally enters the scene.

Pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Tav

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist | Ao3 Link

Kythorn 1495

Our wedding festivities have begun at last. I was very surprised when Astarion announced that we would have a royal Silevrenian wedding. I had resigned myself to never seeing my kingdom again. Thankfully, Rolan was more than happy to send us to Silevren, so long as we promised to bring back a wedding favor for him. Astarion said we could have just forced his hand, but I would much rather be in the Ramazith Tower’s good graces.

Before we left, I disguised my eye color and hid my fangs with a simple spell, but I think Aelia caught on that something was different. I suppose we aren’t twins for nothing; I just have to make it through this tenday.

My family is wary of Astarion. Mother pulled me aside on the first day and commented on his crimson eyes and sharp fangs. The concern in her eyes wounded my very soul. I reassured her that I would be fine, but truthfully, I don’t know if I will be. They have been very cordial in his presence so far, but I cannot help but worry. Astarion will not hide who he is from them and I’m not sure how they are feeling about his…nature.

Nevertheless, it is too late to turn back. We will make our vows before our loved ones, then we will make our vows before each other, Corellon Larethian, and the Oak Father. I cannot falter.

I overheard a servant gossiping that Astarion had spent time secretly embroidering the blue roses into my dress. I had assumed he had commissioned a seamstress to do it, hearing that he did it himself…I was beside myself with joy. It is such a shame I can never tell him I know the truth. The blow to his pride would be far too great.

Baby’s breath, heliotrope,and irises made up the flower crown he gave to me as part of the first day tradition. I am sure he just had a servant pick out flowers; after all, he had once said, “flowers are so overrated. They’re bright, gaudy, and almost never make good poisons.” Surely, he couldn’t have known what their meanings were, but I cannot deny that my heart fluttered. After all, everlasting love, devotion, and trust - things I thought the Rite had taken from us were woven together in a symbol of our union.

For my part, I placed atop his head a crown of red roses, honeysuckle, and amaryllis. Though I dare not hope he is familiar with the language of flowers, it was imperative to me that I at least express my feelings on what will be the most memorable days of my life.

I had just hoped they would be the happiest ones.

Stella Ancunín

“Forever and always, I will stand by your side. With the Moon, Stars, Oak Father, and Corellon Larethian as my witnesses, I will be with you until the sun itself burns out. Ai armiel telere maenen hir.”

“Aeterna amantes. Lovers forever, until the world falls down. My consort, you shall want for nothing. We shall be together, forever. Anything you want, you need only ask. We will be sovereigns - this I vow to you.”

Such were the vows they had shared over three centuries ago in front of his consort’s family and their friends, upheld for three centuries. True to her word, while she seemed to have grown more and more withdrawn over the years, she never attempted to actually leave his side. There was only one incident early into their marriage where he hadn’t been able to find her. She had explained that she had been deep in trance, not hearing him arrive home, and that was why she didn’t greet him at the door. He still wasn’t sure he believed her, but she had dutifully met him at the threshold the moment he returned every single day ever since. Even when she barely looked at him.

Astarion tightened his hold on his consort, trying to shake free of that terrible memory. He would see her back to her old self. She’d come back to him, fully. It was an inevitability.

Of all the tools at his disposal, his body had always been the most effective…and the only way he really knew how to express himself. When words failed him, surely he could get his feelings across another way?

"Astari-" he cut her off by crushing his lips to hers, pulling her slender frame against his own.

She stiffened initially, but melted just a moment later into his touch. Over three centuries of lovemaking led their bodies to slot together as perfect puzzle pieces.

He reached up to cup one of her soft breasts, running his thumb over its peak. “My treasure, you-”

Clack. Clack. Clack.

An incessant tapping grated on his ears. The Ascendant gritted his teeth.

With a low growl, he waved his unoccupied hand, parting the curtains. A large brown owl hovered outside their window, rapping its beak frantically against the glass.

“Who…?” his consort murmured from his embrace, raising her head to peer at the bird.

His fingers itched to just close the curtains again, but Stella was already gently extracting herself from his arms and swinging the window open. Astarion clenched his jaw, but forced his body to still. It was too late to stop her.

The owl’s feathers rippled and grew into flesh, Halsin now standing where had once been the large bird.

“Pardon the interruption,” the Archdruid rumbled, rolling his shoulders back.

“I sent a servant to tell you to leave, yet you trespass into my consort’s garden. I allow you to live slightly longer by ignoring you, and now you interrupt us. Tell me, exactly why should I not simply kill you where you stand?” Astarion hissed, a hand flying to Crimson Mischief on his side.

“I assure you, I would not have done so, had it not been urgent. I received word from Francesca of the High Forest that there has been a strange army of sorts marching towards Baldur’s Gate. More specifically, their leader seems to be a vampire by the name of Lady Incognita. I would have sent word by carrier pigeon, but I was unsure how far her influence extends. I feared the letter could have gotten compromised.” Halsin held up his arms in a placating gesture.

Another vampire coming towards his city? Preposterous. This “Lady Incognita” surely had a death wish. Astarion furrowed his brow. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but just where had he heard it before?

“Lady Incognita… Amanita Szarr?” Stella gasped, hands flying to her face.

“...Who?” Though the last name was all too familiar, Astarion struggled to recall an “Amanita”.

“The author of the letters in the attic of the Palace, all those years ago.” she wrung her hands, ruby eyes filled with fear.

Why was his treasure so afraid?

“I am the strongest vampire to ever walk this land. Let them come. They will meet their end,” he declared, arms spread wide.

He had spent so long carefully maneuvering politically. All of Baldur’s Gate danced like marionettes on his strings. Since he had married into the Silevren royal family, he even had his fingers in another kingdom’s politics as well. A bloody battle like this one was sure to be an exhilarating change of pace. Lady Incognita would be no match for his powers. He had spent the past three centuries exploring everything a Vampire Ascendant could do.

Halsin frowned, turning to the Ascendant’s consort instead. “I was concerned for your wellbeing, little bluejay. They will not spare anyone in the castle.”

“Halsin…please, don’t call me that.” Stella lowered her eyes, almost shrinking behind Astarion.

“My apologies. I do not mean to overstep. I simply wanted you to know that danger is coming.”

“Will you help us? Stand with us?” she reached out to the Archdruid, though Astarion grabbed her arm before she could touch Halsin’s.

She froze immediately. “S-Sorry, my lord.”

Something within his chest twisted. Why was there such a difference in how his consort treated them? Did he not shower her with affection? He knew she had once had a romantic connection with Halsin, even permitted it. But after his ascension, she had spent even more time with the other Druid than before. Despite that, after the Netherbrain’s defeat, barring the reunions and other special occasions that would cross their paths once more, his consort had not once left the castle to go visit, nor even requested to do so.

Astarion didn’t understand.

Pulling her into his arms protectively, he drawled at the other man, “Your warning has been heard. Now, leave us.”

Stella remained silent, staring down at the plush crimson carpet beneath her sapphire-encrusted slippers. His most recent present to her, aside from the flower garden outside.

Halsin sighed, running a hand through his brown locks, now speckled with gray. “Unfortunately, I cannot aid you in this upcoming battle. I…”

The Archdruid seemed to be at war with himself, yet ignored Astarion’s demand to leave.

“There is… a natural order that I am duty bound to protect. Lady Incognita seeks to re-establish this natural order. Thus, I cannot interfere. But alas, I could also not sit idly by without warning you of her incoming attack.”

Annoyance coursed through him, though he couldn’t quite fathom why. Nonetheless, he knew he wanted Halsin gone from his castle. “If you aren’t here to help, then leave,” Astarion snapped.

The Ascendant could sense his wife’s objection to his words through their bond, but still she said nothing.

Halsin nodded. “I will take my leave soon, but there is one more thing I wanted to tell you.”

The Wood Elf leveled a gaze at Stella.

“I had once told you that I wished for you to be able to spread your wings, if you so desired. It seems it is as I feared. He has caged you. The harmless game has become all too real.”

How dare he? In a flash, Astarion’s hand was wrapped around Halsin’s throat and slamming him against the wall. The surface cracked from the sheer force. He bared his fangs, fully ready to rip out the larger man’s throat.

“Starry, please!” Stella cried out, rushing towards them. Her cold, thin fingers gently curled around his arm.

“You dare barge into our home and then accuse me of mistreating my consort?!”

Crimson filled his vision, and he couldn’t hear anything over the cacophony of his thoughts shrieking out the deepest fears he’d always shoved away.

Halsin was trying to take away his treasure. His Stella. His consort.

He would not let that happen.

The roaring in his ears turned out to be his own shouts.

His eyesight cleared.

A mangled body lay still before him.

“N-No, Halsin…”

[eatmangoesnekkid]

Very difficult and tender transmission to give that is wrapped in compassion so please consider slow-reading with some deep breaths, pauses, care and love. You have to be willing, at some point, if/when you are ready, to see life beyond "good/bad" or "right/wrong." If you are not ready, then the following message is not for you at this time, if ever, which also a beautiful awareness to have of oneself. Learn to honor and respect soul contracts.

In some soul contracts, there will be people assigned the role of victims and others assigned as villains. Oppressed and oppressors. In other soul contracts, there will precious sweet tiny people who will be murdered or harmed in devastatingly cruel ways and it will shatter your heart. You may find yourself in a freeze state, unable to move or get out of the bed.

Let's go deeper into this download, specifically on villains: Villains, as stated, are not good/bad. Nothing is. None of us want villains in our lives or to be victims. And what's also true is that villains generally teach very real life lessons that often transform us in some deep way if we are open-minded and can receive. With that consideration, not all villains need to be removed from your life if you have the capacity and vitality for alchemy.

Let's say you have a brother who was soul contracted to be the perfect villain in your life. He is difficult AF to be in relationship with. He doesn't respect your time. You don't trust him. You may not really like your brother but you put up with him within your boundaries, and eventually can feel some sense of grace for his presence, because you recognize the gifts and opportunities for expansion he brings. You may learn skills like patience, how to read people, how to communicate difficult things, etc. This reverse-engineering is not the same thing as tolerating abusive behavior from someone. You must have boundaries if you decide to play in this way!

It is, however, teaching you how to usurp more energy in the chaotic-ness of life, in what is. A similar reverse-engineering can also apply to your boss or a difficult colleague at work. Our villains show up for us in ways that we couldn't show for ourselves and provide us with greater intelligence. It's the art-of-war, lover-warrior recalibration tinkering. And the lessons learned will be inextricably connected to other areas of our bodies and lives. Magic! The world is experiencing so much polarity right now, but you must remember who you are, a God, united with heaven on earth, expanding and sparking new creation. When you start to navigate multiple dimensions of reality, you begin to unconsciously pull your life force energy out of the matrix for it to be harvested and used up. It's like you are in the world, leaving your unique imprints upon the world, but are not constantly being imprint upon by a world that exists in an old timeline. Sovereign. Read that again.

I always like to remind myself that many people are still fighting their great grandparents wars. The old pain is still alive, active, and living in the body, and when you start to unhook yourself, you can see it clearly. If/when you are ready, witness the matrix for what it is. Experience the range of emotions, especially grieve that you, individually, do not have control over every single thing happening in the external world. Yes we live in relationship with nature, the non-human world, and other humans and can impact and influence, but sit with the deeply uncomfortable feeling that there will be some things that are not in our control. If you can't directly do anything about the issues in the Congo, Palestine, Israel, Sudan, etc., what can you do with the world around you?

This is why I am get so deeply syrupy sweet, warm, soft in my body, speech and care practices, and strong --physically and emotionally--in my body. I am generally kind and patient with people I come contact with, not so easily triggered, able to lend an ear or a hand, aware that many people are under massive amounts of stress and not take anything around me personally.

When/if you are ready, place everything in its proper order and perspective. When you do, you are tapping into your divine energy in your human form. Then miracles start to happen in ways that you become of service for this planet in deeper ways that are necessary now more than ever. Embrace all the emotions that rise up from being human. There may be need for you to take care of yourself in ways that take you offline and into the forest. To lengthen and open your body with deep stretching and rest practices. When you are ready, consider tuning into the deeper truth of what is means to human and female in our collective timeline so that your body doesn't absorb crisis after crisis. Don't run from what is happening. Your emotions will be channeled. And your body may take a big hit, but it doesn't absorb the turbulence in ways that the crisis becomes part of your identity and consciousness. Knowing that you can hold it all unlocks your greater Ma/Mother frequency--which means that you must stay in contact with the earth. Grounded. What you are doing now, loved one, is living more in service to the new earth, the higher frequency emerging. -India Ame'ye, Author

[traumacatholic]

Happy New Year everyone, I hope the new year is good to you!

That Thou wilt bless the crown of the coming year with Thy bounty, and quench the flames of discord, enmity and strife; that Thou wilt give us peace, perseverance, sincere love, and a virtuous disposition; we beg Thee, Lord, hear us and have mercy.

If 2023 has been a rough year for you, then I'm praying the new year is better for you.

If 2023 has been a good year for you, then I'm praying the same goodness carries on into the new year.

As much as 2023 has been a really difficult year for me, I'm very grateful for all of the people on here. The people that took their time to pray for me, to offer me support when I've been struggling with things. The people that have offered me friendship and care. Nothing I can do or say can ever really do justice to all of the support and care that people on here have shown me.

I hope that 2024 grants you the healing, love, and care that you need.

Under the read more is some other prayers for the start of a New Year

O Master, Lord our God, Fountain of life and immortality, the Creator of all things both visible and invisible, Who has appointed seasons and years by Thy power, and dost direct all things by Thy most-wise and all-gracious providence: We thank Thee for Thy compassions, which Thou hast poured out upon us during the passing time of our life, and we entreat Thee, O All-compassionate Lord! Bless the crown of the coming year with Thy goodness.  Preserve our civil authorities; multiply the days of their life in unalterable health, and grant them progress in every virtue.  Grant Thy good things from above unto Thy people: health and salvation, and good hastening in all things.  Deliver Thy Holy Church, this city, and every city and land from every evil circmstance, granting them peace and tranquility.  And count us worthy that we may always offer thanksgiving unto Thee, the Father Who is without beginning, together with Thine Only-begotten Son, and Thine All-holy and Lifegiving Spirit, God glorified in one essence, and that we may hymn Thy most-holy Name.  Glory to Thee, O God, our benefactor, unto the ages of ages.  Amen.

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O Lord our God, You are the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the Creator of time, existing before time and outside of time, the same yesterday, today and forever. You are the Pantocrator, the absolute Ruler who exercises sovereign authority over the entire universe and its laws. You are not limited by any natural events and occurrences, or by our action or inaction. The world is not driven by blind forces, but is governed wisely and lovingly by Your divine Providence.

You, O King and Master of the world, govern by Your almighty will the world You created as a captain governs his ship. We have nothing to be afraid of, as long as You are at the rudder. The very elements of nature obey You. Nothing happens by chance. What happens to us does not happen at random. Not a single hair from our heads falls to the ground without Your powerful will. We are in Your hands. What we are, whatever good we have in us, comes from You, the source of every goodness.

We ask You humbly, our Savior, as we enter this New Year of our salvation, to bless us all; to bless our endeavors, and everything we do. We ask You, O Lord, to bless the time You give us, that we may pass this new year of Your grace and the lifespan You have given us in repentance, forgiveness, patience, tolerance, peace, the fight against our passions, the practicing of the virtues, in doing Your will, not ours, and in accepting it cheerfully, without groaning or complaint.

Grant us, O Father Almighty, sincere faithfulness, wakeful preparedness and active witness, to be strong and grow in faith and love for You, and work diligently for the establishment of Your Kingdom, a Kingdom of peace and justice. Instill in us the longing for the establishment of Your heavenly Kingdom, a Kingdom of everlasting life, peace and joy.

We also beseech You, O Lord, to bless the entire world, and all Nations. Guide them to You, that they may come to know You, the only true God, and to do Your Holy Will. And protect, O Lord, Your Holy Church, everywhere, so that with one voice and one heart we may all praise and glorify Your most Holy and magnificent Name, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, now and forever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

[kroashent]

kroashent

Dracula and the Law: Who Owns the Demeter? Part II - Jus Naufragii

Dracula has lived a long unlife. Let's start this legal excercise by placing the voyage of the Demeter in an earlier context. We'll assume that the cargo, the ship's point of origin and the makeup of the crew is generally the same, but change the year and where it makes landfall to see what happens.

Jus Naufragii

One of the earliest extra-legal remedies for a wreck came in the form of the Jus Naufragii or Lex Naufragii (The "Right" and "Law" of Wreck, respectively). For much of history, wrecks were treated with the ancient remedy set out in the case of Finders v. Keepers. The inhabitants or sovereign of a territory would lay claim to the wreckage, cargo and even passengers and crew as slaves if a ship wrecked on their shores. Local custom often justified this theologically by declaring that the wreck was God's punishment for the sins of those aboard. The custom was publicly supported by monarchs and nobles across Europe.

Jus Naufragii is not a small enterprise either. Breton Viscount Guihomar IV (1130-1179) once remarked that the right of wreck on a single "most precious stone" yielded 100,000 solidi/year. There is ample evidence of active wreckers taking the opportunity to draw in ships with false lights and other tricks throughout Asia, Europe and the New World.

The Custom was not without opponents, and it was strongly condemned throughout history, and its ban was express in Roman Emperor Justinian I's Corpus Juris Civilis and Digesta (Both ~ 530 CE). The Catholic Church outlawed the custom repeatedly in 1124 (Papal Bull of Clement II), 1127 (Council of Nantes), 1179 (Lateran Council) and 1509 (Papal Bull of Julius II). In the 1180s, Genoa and its neighbors signed treaties with Iberian Muslims to spare its ships from the Jus.

While the direct influence of the Church and seafaring nation-states led to the disappearance of the law in the Med, it lasted longer in the North. France and Brittany signed a treaty with each other similar to the Genoese in 1231, and France and Venice entered an agreement in 1268.

Let's pick the year of 1476, the setting of the Castlevania anime, for our voyage. The Demeter is a Russian ship, with a Romanian crew. Assuming it wrecks in the Med, the right of wreck will not apply, as it had largely and effectively been outlawed. Along the Atlantic or the Channel, (Assuming that Russia is not a party to any protective treaties), its much more likely that the first to arrive will become the proud owners of 50 crates of dirt and one pissed off vampire.

------

The 17th Century brought a fairly major changes. A 1625 treaty between England and the Netherlands established a grace period of a year and a day for an owner to claim their wrecked property, while France and the Netherlands agreed that salvagers would be paid a "saviour's fee." In 1663, the Netherlands formally abolished the jus, with Turkey doing so in 1535 and 1740. Jus naufraugii is the custom of Dracula's time, one that would be left behind as the world changed, an ancient custom of divine retribution and opportunistic looting. The right of wreck is a product of Dracula's world. Let's look at how it fits into Mina's soon...

[chencrownado]

November 10, 2023

𝗠𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙇𝙤𝙧𝙙,

Every new day's display of mercy serves to lighten the burdens of my heart, such is the boundless love of Christ! It is a love so infinitely great that 𝗻𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗳𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗵𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗶𝘁. (𝗥𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝟴:𝟯𝟵)

In contemplating the glorious gospel of Christ, I find it somewhat odd that my humble writings would ever catch the eye of readers. Each day, as I take pen to journal, I would usually hide away and engage in a profound conversation with Christ, my most Beloved Shepherd. It is not so much a dread of my compositions being seen or being read, but my penned expressions are usually poorly written.

But now it is my deepest desire to display this musings of grace in my life. I ponder at the thought that I should write for my Savior, I have but little of knowledge in words and sheered away from confidence easily. Perhaps, I am the same with Moses when he expressed his feelings of inadequacy by uttering the words, “𝗢𝗵, 𝗺𝘆 𝗟𝗼𝗿𝗱, 𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗻𝘁, 𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗮𝗻𝘁, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝘀𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗲𝗰𝗵 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗲.” (𝗘𝘅𝗼𝗱𝘂𝘀 𝟰:𝟭𝟬) 

Nonetheless, I am continually compelled to pour out my heart through this writing, echoing the sentiment Paul Washer shared when he penned his recent book, "𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆." But who am I to write mere earthly words to describe my Sovereign Lord Jesus Christ, who embodies wisdom and is the ultimate source of knowledge? Such is the magnificence of my Beloved! Oh, that I could magnify Your name, O Lord! “𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁, 𝗦𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗻 𝗟𝗢𝗥𝗗; 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼 𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼 𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝘀 𝗬𝗼𝘂, 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝘆 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀.” (𝟮 𝗦𝗮𝗺𝘂𝗲𝗹 𝟳:𝟮𝟮)

It is humiliating if I should write for other things, for everything next to Christ is unworthy of a minute’s writing. For all else pales in comparison to Him and is hardly worthy of a single moment's attention! They are all but contending of power, devoid of true worth—nothing more than empty vanity.

So I’ll try to write this composition as a testifier to the truth of Jesus in my life. I cannot deny that often times my love grows cold and my heart faints in believing that He will come again and He will bring me with Him in eternal life—that there is always this embedding vile heart that should believe He might forsake me, that I would flee away from my Lord when there will be seasons of great change, doubt, and weariness. But the promises of God, fellow believer, THAT I cannot deny—the promises of not just paradise, not heavenly riches but the appearance of my dearly Beloved face to face He will say to me, “𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼 𝗠𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿. 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼 𝗠𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗳𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗰𝘆. 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼 𝗠𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀.” (𝗛𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗮 𝟮:𝟭𝟵-𝟮𝟬) How precious is He that our betrothal with Him is forever! 

I have trodden a path of waywardness throughout my existence, yet one thing rests resolutely upon my conscience—that 𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗛𝗶𝗺𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗲 (𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝟮:𝟮𝟬), His life and death has been my salvation, His love has been the anchor of my life. It is a wonderful love that has not left me, a love that has cleansed me and sanctified me. This love, and this love alone, possesses the remarkable ability to humble me to my knees when I transgress. Regrettably, I acknowledge that, in the future, I may commit sins more grievous than I dare to contemplate, even against the One who holds me in His beloved embrace. However, I find solace in the fact that I have received love, forgiveness, compassion, mercy, redemption, and a complete transformation through the sacrificial death of Christ Jesus my dearest Lord. Therefore, when I do fall short and sin, like David I will cry with beating-breasts guarded with the truth that God will not forsake me in my iniquity. Instead, He will remind me of His unwavering love for me, He will remind me that it was Him who has loved me first, The Lord Himself will carry me as I enter His throne of grace, and He will bestow upon my soul a blessed assurance that the strength to abide in Him—always and forever resides within His Spirit.

O weary souls, I encourage you to seek the boundless love of Christ, even though 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝘃𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗵𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁 (𝗘𝗽𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝟯:𝟭𝟵). His love overflows like an unending stream of water, with nothing to hinder its course. Therefore, I urge you to 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀 (𝗦𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝗦𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝟯:𝟮), to love Him, and to be loved by Him greatly, 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃����𝗿. (𝗟𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝟯:𝟯𝟭)

The love of Christ to you,

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙣

[waltwhitmansbeard]

my fair lady: chapter eight

click here for the other chapters, if you're nasty. thanks once again to @romeoandjulietyouwish and her medieval au for the inspo!

The ballroom of the Emerald Citadel is a thing of grandeur. Vaulted ceilings stretch up toward the heavens, and the periodic marble pillars have been expertly carved to resemble massive, sprawling elm trees. The center of the chamber is currently empty, as the formal dancing portion of the evening has yet to begin, but a quartet of musicians sits off to one side, weaving an intricate, melodious tapestry of traditional Ashari, Draconian, and Syngornian songs. Long tables frame the room, with one at the head for the leaders of the three gathered nations.

Vax scopes the room, eyes alighting on each individual face, from his position a few feet behind Keyleth at the head table. Her introduction with the Ashari delegation went well enough; she shone like a gem on her father's arm, and anyone who didn't know her as well as Vax does would have been fooled by her polite smile and graceful movement.

Vax, for his part, is doing a far less convincing job of keeping his emotions in check. Within two minutes of taking his post behind Keyleth, while the Draconian delegation was being heralded in, Lord Percival had sidled up to hiss at him, "Relax your face. You look as though you're about to set the room ablaze."

Any given minute, he feels as though he might.

After some brief speeches in which Sovereign Korrin and King Kruvanis thank each other and their Syngornian hosts and wax poetic about the end of a long and arduous war, the celebrations formally begin, to culminate at the end of the night with the signing of the treaty. The High Warden steps up to announce the introduction of dancing, to be kicked off by the newly betrothed royals, Prince Tiberius Stormwind of Draconia and Princess Keyleth of the Ashari.

Vax locks his eyes on the dragonborn prince as he extends a hand toward Keyleth, bowing before her. Prince Tiberius doesn't seem to notice the way her hand trembles as it slips into his—or maybe he does, and he imagines the tremor is one of attraction and not one of fear. The dance is lively, with lots of spinning and turning, and the prince wisely keeps his hands in respectable places. Keyleth has never been the most sure-footed, and her nerves certainly aren't helping; she spends much of the dance watching her feet to ensure she doesn't trip.

The dance ends to polite applause, and Vax lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The prince and princess genuflect to each other, and then the dance floor is flooded for the quadrille. Keyleth uses the activity to duck away and retreat to the head table. As she passes him, she catches Vax's eye, her face falling for the briefest moment so only he can see her true misery.

.

Keyleth is going to scream. Halfway through dinner, which is a sampling of Ashari and Draconian cuisine, Prince Tiberius hasn't let her get a single word in edgewise. He's filled her in on his entire life story, prattling on about how droll his life at court has been and pontificating on his academic and arcane exploits. Keyleth pushes her food around her plate, no appetite to speak of, and makes vague noises of feigned interest to hide the fact that she hasn't listened to a word in half an hour. He seems satisfied by this level of contribution to the conversation and blusters on.

Finally, she is rescued by Percy, who interrupts the prince mid-sentence to ask his oldest friend for a dance. As they spin around the dance floor, Keyleth mutters, "Thank you for extracting me from that...well, I can't exactly call it a conversation, as I don't believe he's ever heard the sound of my voice." She sighs. "Vax warned me about how...trying he is, but nothing could have prepared me for that."

"I'm so sorry, Keyleth," he whispers back. "I can't imagine what this feels like."

Her eyes prickle, but she blinks the threatening tears away. "This is what a royal should expect, is it not? My future has never been my own. I can learn to live with him." She knows she has never sounded less convincing in her life.

Percy's face colors with pity. "You shouldn't have to. It is an injustice, to determine the fate of a nation but not your own life."

She wants to argue with him, to defend her father and the way her court is run, but after this trying day, she is simply too tired to lie to herself. Her eyes slide closed and she lets Percy lead her through the dance, happy to have this short respite from the responsibilities of her station. If Percy sees the wayward tear escape from beneath her eyelids, he gallantly says nothing.

The song is winding to a close when the melody is cut short by a cacophonous shattering of glass. All of the tall, intricately patterned windows lining the walls explode inward, sending a maelstrom of glass shards over the gathered guests. The chamber erupts in shrieks of horror as a legion of masked, black-clad figures swing inside on ropes. They land and immediately begin a violent assault on the party, firing crossbows and throwing daggers and brandishing blades with stunning speed.

Keyleth freezes in shock, but Percy doesn't hesitate. He reaches back into his jacket and retrieves from the hidden holster on his back the six-barreled weapon Keyleth spent years watching him craft by hand. He turns to her and commands, "Get to Vax, now!" before charging off to fight.

Heart thrumming and mouth dry, Keyleth whips around to look toward the head table, behind which Vax had been standing dutifully all night. Before she can take a step, however, a pair of thick arms wraps around her torso, yanking her back off her feet. She yelps, the sound swallowed by the screams of others and the clashing of metal and the booms of Percy's weapon. A hand clamps down over her mouth. She tries to shout through, heart racing unbearably fast now, but it's no use. She is hauled off of her feet and carried by some unseen assailant through the fracas, out of the ballroom, and far from any hope of help.