#The wicked man's portion

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Where Can Wisdom Be Found?

1 For there is a place for the silver, whence it comes, and a place for the gold, whence it is refined.

2 For iron comes out of the earth, and brass is hewn out like stone.

3 He has set a bound to darkness, and he searches out every limit: a stone is darkness, and the shadow of death.

4 There is a cutting off the torrent by reason of dust: so they that forget the right way are weakened; they are removed from among men.

5 As for the earth, out of it shall come bread: under it has been turned up as it were fire.

6 Her stones are the place of the sapphire: and her dust supplies man with gold.

7 There is a path, the fowl has not known it, neither has the eye of the vulture seen it:

8 neither have the sons of the proud trodden it, a lion has not passed upon it.

9 He has stretched forth his hand on the sharp rock, and turned up mountains by the roots:

10 and he has interrupted the whirlpools of rivers, and mine eye has seen every precious thing.

11 And he has laid bare the depths of rivers, and has brought his power to light.

12 But whence has wisdom been discovered? and what is the place of knowledge?

13 A mortal has not known its way, neither indeed has it been discovered among men.

14 The depth said, It is not in me: and the sea said, It is not with me.

15 One shall not give fine gold instead of it, neither shall silver be weighed in exchange for it.

16 Neither shall it be compared with gold of Sophir, with the precious onyx and sapphire.

17 Gold and crystal shall not be equalled to it, neither shall vessels of gold be its exchange.

18 Coral and fine pearl shall not be mentioned: but do thou esteem wisdom above the most precious things.

19 The topaz of Ethiopia shall not be equalled to it; it shall not be compared with pure gold.

20 Whence then is wisdom found? and of what kind is the place of understanding?

21 It has escaped the notice of every man, and has been hidden from the birds of the sky.

22 Destruction and Death said, We have heard the report of it.

23 God has well ordered the way of it, and he knows the place of it.

24 For he surveys the whole earth under heaven, knowing the things in the earth:

25 all that he has made; the weight of the winds, the measures of the water.

26 When he made them, thus he saw and numbered them, and made a way for the pealing of the thunder.

27 Then he saw it, and declared it: he prepared it and traced it out.

28 And he said to man, Behold, godliness is wisdom: and to abstain from evil is understanding. — Job 27 | Brenton's Septuagint Translation (BST) Brenton Septuagint Translation of the Holy Bible, 1884. Cross References: Deuteronomy 1:45; Job 2:3; Job 3:15; Job 4:11; Job 6:28-29; Job 7:8; Job 7:10; Job 8:15; Job 9:18; Job 12:10; Job 13:12; Job 15:20; Job 15:29; Job 18:18-19; Job 22:26-27; Job 31:35; Psalm 90:5; Jeremiah 13:14; Luke 12:20

[aayakashii]

violence sometimes might be the answer

Lyca defenders UNITE!!!

Warning: a bit of violence 🤫 this isn't proof-read yet so pls forgive the occasional typo or grammar flounder lol also it can definitely be read as platonic too, you're just very protective of your werewolf 😔

"We have to go! We have to go! Come on, hurry up!" Lyca tugged you and Subaru by the hands, forcing the both of you to trot clumsily behind him while he dragged you towards the cafeteria.

"Lyca, calm down!" Subaru chastised him, but made no actual effort to stop him on his tracks and neither did you. In fact, all you did was laugh.

Lyca had been talking about that day the entire week – the cafeteria was having pudding as dessert, and he desperately wanted to try it. He even made you and Subaru promise not to eat at Sho's food truck because he didn't want to go all alone to the cafeteria to try it.

And knowing how prejudiced most students were, you two agreed and promised you'd keep him company (and between you and Subaru, you also promised to keep him safe).

Thus, he dragged you to the crowded cafeteria and excitedly waited in line, all just to try that pudding. You could only hope it was going to live up to his hype.

Par for the course, you were very much aware of the looks and whispers of the students surrounding you. Luckily, Lyca seemed to be able to keep it all as background noise most of the time, but you still had a hard time keeping quiet whenever some stuck up elite student curled their lips in disgust as they looked at Lyca.

Subaru fidgeted on his spot, also painfully conscious of the awful comments made towards his friend. That was one of the many reasons why he preferred to eat at the terrace – less people, less judgment. But how could he, or you, deny a request like that from someone who spent such a large portion of his life away from the simple enjoyments of life? Lyca just wanted to eat pudding. How could that be so bad?

As the line moved forward, Lyca began to worry. There were just a few little cups left and too many people around him.

He bounced on his heels, laser focused on how many people were grabbing the dessert he wanted. A relieved smile spread onto his face when it was finally his turn to order his food and there was still one pudding cup left.

As he reached for it, however, a pale hand swatted him away and snatched the cup before him.

“Frostheim students have priority over lowly monsters.” a man said, cutting the line in front of Lyca, and staring him down in disdain with a wicked smirk plastered on his face.

Lyca glared at him, clenching his fists, and his mouth opened to retort, when he suddenly remembered you were standing just a few steps away.

Rui's voice echoed into his mind. “If you cause troubles, it won't bring problems just for you, but for the Honor Student as well! You don't want that, do you?”

And Lyca didn't want that.

Instead, he closed his mouth and unclenched his fist, looking down at his feet and breathing deeply, until he felt like he wouldn't rip the student's throat apart.

The student huffed in contempt and walked away, maneuvering towards his seat.

Behind him, you felt your face burning. Your eyes were trained on Lyca's hunched back before you and you barely registered Subaru muttering curses under his breath. All you could feel was searing hot rage. It bubbled in your stomach and spilled down your guts, drenching your insides in vengeful anger.

You did not notice when you began walking purposefully towards the student. All you knew is that you were seeing red.

You were deaf to the sounds of Subaru calling your name and blind to Kaito and Luca waving at you as you passed by (and their confused faces when you ignored them).

In retrospect, you probably have never felt that much rage before. Not when Taiga strapped you to his torture chair, not when Leo shit talked you at the end of your mission with Vagastrom, not when Romeo yelled at you for whatever stupid reason. None of that could hold a candle to the fury that seeped through your pores at that moment.

You realized, as you stomped loudly towards the Frostheim student, that you could excuse the awful treatment towards you, but you drew the line on anyone harming Lyca.

"Excuse me" you tapped the man on the shoulder. He wasn't much taller than you, which worked wonderfully for what you wanted to do.

"What do you want?" He turned around and narrowed his eyes at you, clearly annoyed that you interrupted his way to his table.

From then on, it all went by quite quickly.

You grabbed his cup, filled to the brim with grape juice and threw it on his face without missing a beat. As he blinked away the sticky liquid, sputtering, you picked up the pudding cup and placed it unceremoniously on the table beside you – you would give it to Lyca after you were done with the asshole.

"What do you think you're doing, bitch?! Are you crazy?!" the student yelled, but instead of answering, you flipped the plate of spaghetti he had picked up onto his face, pushing hard, until he almost lost balance. The plate crashed on the ground beside his feet and he tried to avoid stepping on it while noodles ran down his face, hair and uniform, obstructing his vision.

You quickly snatched the tray away from his hand, throwing it far behind you, barely registering where it landed. You pushed him down with even more force.

The man finally fell hard onto the ground with a loud thud, yelling as his hand was pierced by one of the plate's broken pieces. You stepped over him, leaning down to pull him closer to your face by his necktie. He coughed, bringing his arms towards his face, trying to shield himself from you.

"Listen here. You act like an asshole towards Lyca one more fucking time. And I will kill you. Do you understand?" You murmured through gritted teeth, eyes wide and nose flared up. The student whimpered under you, eyes shut in fear and blood dripping down his hand.

"Do you fucking understand?! Answer me!" You shook him, yelling, and he mumbled apologies incoherently.

You opened your mouth again to yell, when a pair of hands grabbed you by the shoulders and began pulling you away from the man.

"That's enough! Enough!”

Behind you, Luca shook you in order to snap you out of your rage-induced trance.

You inhaled sharply, blinking fast, and let go of the student's tie, letting him fall down again with another harsh thud. You felt your senses come back to you as you turned around and saw Luca and Kaito staring at you, horrified. A few steps further, Subaru and Lyca were also standing, watching your meltdown with something akin to bewilderment on their faces.

"Let's get out of here, quick." Luca began pulling you by the hand while Kaito almost ripped his own hair out in concern. You nodded mindlessly, stepping away from the man that was moaning in pain behind you.

Before you could leave the cafeteria and run away from all the prying eyes that were locked onto you, you looked to your side and snatched the pudding you had stolen from the boy. You were going to give it to Lyca.

"What on earth did you think you were doing?!"

After running as fast as your legs could take you, you stopped near your dorm's entrance, with Luca, Kaito, Subaru and Lyca beside you. Luca was giving you a disapproving glare that almost made you regret your attack. Almost.

You breathed deeply, trying to calm down your racing heart before answering.

"He bullied Lyca." you told Luca with a determined look on your face.

That seemed to have caught Luca off guard.

“We-well! But even so!” He stuttered, trying to explain his point “You're the Honor Student, you can't do this type of thing!”

You looked away, feeling the burn on the palm of the hand that grasped the student's tie. Adrenaline sure was a crazy thing. In a normal setting, you'd never be able to lift someone's weight like that with just one hand.

“I know. I'm not sorry though.” You muttered.

“...” Luca stared at you, grimacing.

“I know what I did was wrong.” You continued “But I'm not sorry! If Lyca can't defend himself because these assholes will whine and cry to their daddies at the littlest threat, then I will defend him.” you pointed to yourself and sustained Luca's gaze, unwilling to change your mind.

Beside you, Lyca scrunched his eyebrows and looked at his feet, a red blush tinting his face. Subaru tried hiding a grin behind his hand, doing his best not to escalate the situation.

“I- I understand where you're coming from, but... the Academy will probably punish you, you know?” Kaito added “Bu-but I totally get your point! Those guys are jerks!”

You shrugged, carelessly.

“I'll talk to the Chancellor or something. I don't know. I don't care! I'm sick of these people!” you raised your voice again and they flinched.

What were they going to do? Kill you? Lock you up? Wow big deal, you'd just be hurrying up the process since that's what they'd do anyway if you weren't cured. If you were going to suffer sooner or later, you'd like to at least defend your friend before that.

“... we'll talk to the Captain for you.” Luca announced, after a few moments of silence.

“We will?!” Kaito screeched.

“You will?!"

“Yes. Bullying is unacceptable, after all. No one should be discriminated against, no matter who they are. It's shameful behavior for a Frostheim student.” he put a hand over his heart and you knew he was being sincere.

“Luca...!”

“But!” He raised a finger “You can't do this type of thing anymore!"

You nodded frantically.

“Okay. I'll apologize to Jin too.”

“And to the student you beat up?”

Your face fell.

“No. Not until he apologizes to Lyca.” you pointed at the werewolf, to make your statement clearer

“I don't need an apology!” Lyca yelled, face burning red.

You shook your head.

“I don't care. They gotta treat you properly whether they like you or not! It's basic human decency! Otherwise I'll keep beating their ass.”

“Hey!” Luca reprimanded.

“Oh.” You cleared your throat “Sorry.”

He sighed.

“Okay... well. We'll think of something to tell Jin, right Kaito?”

“Y-yes!” Kaito gave you a thumbs up “We'll defend your side, somehow.”

You and the two Frostheim students fidgeted in place for a moment, feeling awkward.

“W-well. We better go then. News travels quickly. Don't get into more trouble!”

You smiled and bowed deeply.

“I won't! Thank you Luca, thank you Kaito!”

As their figures retreated towards the way to Frostheim's dorm, you got up from your position and began dusting off your clothes. There were droplets of sauce and grape juice on your blazer and you frowned at the sight of them.

Suddenly, Subaru stepped beside you and leaned a bit closer, covering his mouth as if he was going to tell you a secret.

"You know... I think you looked so cool defending Lyca!" He grinned mischievously with an embarrassed blush on his face.

“I did?” You scrunched your nose and grinned back.

Lyca scoffed.

“I didn't need defending! I was fine!” He pouted “B-but... thank you... that was really cool…” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

You playfully messed up his hair, earning a growl from him.

“I'll always defend you. You can count on me. And by the way, here it is.” You extended your arm towards him, grabbing his hand.

“What is it?” He asked, looking at the cup you placed on his palm.

“It's the pudding you wanted. It's yours now.”

Lyca stared wordlessly at the pudding that started the whole mess, mouth agape.

Beside you, as he shook his head, Subaru began laughing.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Story Ideas I'm Never Going to Write #1: The Midnight Door

A mashup retelling of "Cinderella" and "The Twelve Dancing Princesses"

Main character is a young woman who is heiress to an estate and fortune that can pass down along the female line. Her father has remarried a woman with two sons of her own. Stepmother resents that Cinderella is going to get everything while she has two sons who get nothing.

Cinderella is in love with a seventh son who's also a soldier. An upcoming ball is going to be Cinderella's last chance to see him before he goes off to war.

Cinderella's father disapproves of this relationship, believing the soldier to be a fortune hunter. To keep Cinderella away from him, he forbids her from going to the ball and the family leaves her behind.

As Cinderella is mourning this, she is visited by a fairy who offers to help, giving her a ballgown and transportation to the ball (as well as magically ensuring that her family doesn't recognize her) so long as she returns by midnight.

Cinderella has a wonderful evening, bids her beloved a fond farewell after promises of everlasting devotion, and returns at the stroke of twelve. She thanks the fairy profusely, wondering how she can ever repay her.

The fairy says she'll think of something.

The next night, at the stroke of midnight, a door appears in Cinderella's room. When Cinderella walks through, she finds herself in a magical garden. The fairy states that the door will appear in Cinderella's room each night, which will allow her to come to the fairy's home and complete a few small tasks to show her gratitude for the help she received in getting to the ball. If Cinderella refuses, this will be proof that she is a wicked, ungrateful child deserving of magical punishment.

Cinderella has no choice but to agree. The door appears each night, and Cinderella spends each night completing tasks for the fairy--sometimes ordinary cleaning or gardening tasks that she doesn't want to waste magic on, sometimes on quests into the magical wilds to find items that are best retrieved by a pure-hearted human. Sometimes, the fairy offers magical help with these tasks, which only gives Cinderella more debt to work off.

This leaves Cinderella exhausted during the daytime, and eventually, her family notices. The stepmother thinks that this is proof that Cinderella is living a pampered, worthless lifestyle, and she convinces her husband that Cinderella needs to take up more responsibilities if she wants to live up to her role as heiress to the estate.

Cinderella tries not going through the door a few times, but time always stays frozen at the stroke of midnight until she goes through the door.

Cinderella's father figures out that she's going somewhere at night, but since the magic keeps everyone in the house asleep while she's gone, and keeps her from telling anyone the truth, he's unable to figure it out.

He recruits the help of some eligible young men in the area (hoping that this will also help her forget about the soldier and agree to marry a suitable man). Since the bonds of marriage are stronger than the bonds of gratitude that bind Cinderella to the fairy's service, the fairy gets worried that she might lose the best servant she's ever had, so she takes the precaution of stealing away the young men who try to solve the mystery, turning them to stone, and leaving them as statues in her garden.

The fairy has a brother who eventually comes by and learns about the situation. The brother doesn't approve of his sister's cruelty in general (which is why he interacts with her as little as possible), and he has a sympathy for humans after spending a portion of his young life as a changeling. He learns that his sister has no intention of ever allowing Cinderella to work off the debt, and he tries to force her to set Cinderella (and the stone suitors) free.

The sister is enraged, and with her stronger magic, she casts her brother out into the human world, leaving him weak and nearly powerless .

He's in this weakened state when a soldier comes by and offers help. Taking food from a human will leave the fairy in a debt to him similar to the one that binds Cinderella to his sister's service, but he's too weak to care much.

A conversation with the soldier reveals that he's actually Cinderella's sweetheart, newly returned from the war. The fairy is unable to directly tell him what's happening to Cinderella, but since he's now bound to the soldier's service, it is totally legal for him to set up a situation where the soldier can figure out what's going on for himself.

The fairy gives the soldier an invisibility cloak, and advises him to go to Cinderella's father and offer to solve the mystery. The father figures that this is a win-win situation--either the soldier solves the mystery and they resolve the situation that's harming Cinderella and stealing away these young men, or the soldier will get stolen away and her father won't have to worry about this unsuitable suitor chasing after her.

The cloak and the fairy bound to his service protect the soldier from any detection by the sister's magic, and he follows Cinderella and figures out what's going on. They could break Cinderella's bond of service by getting married, but Cinderella refuses to free herself until she can free all the innocent men who've been caught up in this.

The three of them figure out a way to save the suitors and defeat the evil fairy, Cinderella's father learns the truth and agrees to let Cinderella marry her true love, and everyone lives happily ever after.

[llondonfog]

MILK & HONEY. + dazzling fic art by @suntails <3 (also available on ao3)

“It will be alright, darling boy, I promise— everything will be alright.”

There’s no response, but Lilia doesn’t mind. His son has always been the quiet, thoughtful sort. Humming faint snatches of a lullaby long forgotten, he threads a hand through the boy’s moonlit strands, apathetic to the copper rust smears left behind. The child’s bangs have grown, he notes idly, fussing with the strands that have fallen over the boy’s face. Lilia ought to cut them soon.

“There will be time for that later,” he finishes his thought out loud, bending forward to press his lips benevolently to his son’s cool forehead— a blessing, Lilia thinks privately with a smile, examining the faint crimson outline of his lips against that pale skin. Blood of the father, blood of the son; sacrament and all that.

“But for now, my dear,” he gently strokes the backs of stained claws against the side of his boy’s face, leaving a virginal blush behind on a bloodless cheek. “It is time for you to wake up.”

Silver is five years old and held at knifepoint when he first meets his father. 

There is a man holding his small arms behind his back, another grasping at his feet, while a third laughs grimly down at his rapidly watering eyes and traces the blade delicately against his temple.

“You’ve been a burden on our village for far too long, brat,” he sneers while Silver’s rabbit heart beats fast and panicked within his heaving chest. “No mother, no father, cared for out of the kindness of our hearts, and you have the nerve to go about stealing our scraps to feed the animals?”

They’re hungry too! Silver wants to cry out, if opening his mouth wouldn’t drag the blade against his hairline. And they’re his friends, when no one else would be. 

The man, unfortunately, is right.

He has no family to speak of; an abandoned babe with odd-colored eyes, silkspun hair, and a debilitating tendency to sleep without cause like the dead themselves that had everyone in the village whispering fearful tales of curses and changelings. It didn’t help that the spring of his arrival had marked the beginning of a painful famine that would relentlessly grip the decaying land, crops failing out of a barren and cracked landscape as rivers began to bleed thin and dry. Changeling or not, it hardly took much time at all for any sympathetic feeling towards the foundling child to metamorphosize into bitter resentment at an extra mouth to feed when their own fevered children were crying out for more. Was it any wonder that he had turned to the few remaining woodland creatures for comfort, saving meager portions of his already miniscule meal to share in gratitude for their simple acceptance and affection? 

The man with the knife doesn’t wait for any answering explanation, merely smacks the blade pointedly against his cheek with a cruel, hungry gleam in those dead fish eyes, and the other two holding him still trade malicious grins. 

“It’s only fair that you pay for what you stole,” the man continues, almost kind and patient in his rationale— (I didn’t steal! Silver wants to shout, mouth dry and empty with fear. I only ever gave them food from my portion!)— and he hums with a terrifying softness at the way Silver’s frightened gaze tracks the knife’s every teasing glide about his forehead and his limbs tremble in their brutish hold. “Oh, not with your life— not at first, anyways. We’re going to scalp you; I can only imagine the price your pretty hair will fetch when we tell the traders that it's woven out of pure silver. It’s a start for what you owe us all for taking care of your worthless and lazy hide for the past five years, and then—”

He pauses as if for some grand operatic effect, savoring the way the tears helplessly gather and bubble at the edge of Silver’s lashes with a wicked smile. 

“Then, we’ll kill you and plate you tonight as dinner. I think there’s enough to go around for the rest of the village, don’t you?”

Two things happen: First, Silver bursts into tears. Second, a dark shape drops from the trees above and latches onto the man’s throat, tearing it open in one fluid movement and soaking the entire scene, Silver included, in a hot spray of blood.  

The entire woodland clearing erupts into chaotic, frenzied screaming. The other two men violently shove him forward in a futile attempt to use him as a shield and escape, and he falls numbly to the ground, limbs frozen in place out of dumb shock as shadows leap effortlessly over his head. The knife that had been so sinister just moments ago lies dull and dirtied in the forest floor by the now nearly headless corpse, and in the dim reflection of its blade, Silver can make out the similar gruesome demise of his other captors. The shrieking fearful sounds are silenced just as abruptly as they began; in less than thirty seconds, the forest has returned to its quiet, sedative self, at peace with the justice that has been served. 

Who . . ?

Quiet, gentle footsteps sound from behind him, their stride unhurried and at ease as they round his quivering, prostrate frame, and something hysterically yells in his mind that it’s poor manners to not at least look his rescuer in the eyes. 

“Hello, child,” the angel (for surely that must be, he fell from the heavens, did he not?) smiles down at him through dripping fangs.

Silver stares up through blood-splattered lashes at his savior and wonders if this is what it’s like to be stricken with love. 

The vampire takes him home. 

He laughs uproariously when Silver so shyly and seriously wonders aloud if he was truly an angel, with hands as kind and gentle as the spring sun upon the muddy bruises and dried wounds from the knife split across his face. 

He laughs at a lot of things that Silver says. It’s uncannily loud and booming for such a small man, but Silver instantly decides that he likes it.

The vampire explains that he is, well, a vampire. He even lets Silver curiously brush tiny fingers over his fangs once they’ve been cleaned of blood and gristle, smiling down at him all the while without a trace of malice that he’s grown so used to seeing. 

He tells Silver that his name is Lilia, Lilia Vanrouge. It’s a difficult name, a weighty name for Silver’s tongue to pronounce, but he rolls it softly in his mouth to savor it all the same, marveling at how much it feels like royalty. 

Lilia explains to him by the light of the fire that he’s lived for a very long time, that he’s enjoyed a life rich beyond anyone’s comprehension from all of the sights he’s seen and the wonders he’s traveled. But no creature is immortal, not even vampires, as long-lived as they may be— the years are heavier now, they ache and sting at his bones as if he’d soaked them in baptismal water. And in his many travels, he had so happened to stumble upon this empty cottage tucked away and abandoned inside this quiet, peaceful forest—

(“Like me,” Silver whispers solemnly. “Is that so?” says Lilia, summer-cherry eyes brilliant against the flames.) 

—and so he had thought, what a nice place to relax and rest his weary soul, a place for him to enjoy a rare moment of serenity before the next grand adventure swept him back out to sea. 

“How silly of me at my age to think that I could anticipate the future,” Lilia brushes his hand gently through Silver’s tangled hair, the knots easily coming undone from a mere sweep of his fingertips. Silver can’t quite recall how and when he had made his way onto the vampire’s lap, only that he is leaning his head adoringly against the man’s chest, staring up at him with bated breath.

“I didn’t expect to have to rescue my newest venture!” 

There’s no need to discuss it after that: Lilia never asks him to leave, and Silver never thinks to do so. 

It’s idyllic. Lilia feeds him, clothes him, lets him play with the forest animals for as long as he wishes. They take care of the little cottage together— Silver discovers a patch of land in the back that at one point might have been a sad attempt at a garden, but under the patient toil of the two of them, burgeons into life with all manner of flowers and vegetables. Lilia teaches him how to darn his socks and how to properly use a whetstone. He tucks Silver into the small bed alongside him and paints visions of faraway worlds upon the thin wooden walls, a better storyteller than any traveling bard that had come to the village before.

When Silver calls him ‘Father’ for the first time, he doesn’t laugh. 

In return, Silver doesn’t complain when he helps Lilia mop up any traces of blood from the traveler he’s feasted upon for the night. 

His father is not a monster, this Silver knows as truly as the sun travels through the sky. The weary men and women who wander across their little abode are treated with nothing but kindness— a warm seat by the fire, a fresh meal to eat, and a soft place to rest their heads. All that his father asks of them is to spare what little coin and wares that they are able to part with, a strange gleam in his eyes and a sincere smile on his face.

Without fail, the strangers comply. They always do.

And in the morning, if they’re a little more woozy than when they laid down to sleep, Silver reassures them that the small satchel of strong-smelling herbs and wrapped provisions for the road will do them a world of good. Together, father and son stand in the doorway of their humble home, hands raised in gestures of well wishes and farewell, as good hosts ought to do. Their visitors stumble down the chrysanthemum and lycoris-lined pathway back to the welcoming arms of the forest, and Silver flexes his toes in his new shoes while his father indulgently twirls his latest trinket around his fingertips, admiring the glint of it in the pale sunlight. 

(“Not all vampires are as kind as I am, child,” his father explains to him as he tucks a sheathed blade into the drawer of their nightstand, under the pressed and faded flowers that Silver had brought for him over time. “There are those who would see longevity as the means to power instead of the humbling blessing that it truly is. There are those who have let their years sour their minds like fermented wine, who have only steeped in cruelty instead of basking in the innocence that still exists in this world. And I would not have you defenseless inside our own home.”

Silver looks at the dull sheen of the knife and thinks back to the cold sting of one flayed against his cheek, and he wonders if those who lurk in the shadows of the night are truly the ones he ought to fear.)  

The years pass in this necessary fashion, seasons tumbling and turning over themselves with a prevailing peace that Silver had once believed could only exist in storybooks. He outgrows his sleeves faster than travelers pass by, and it isn’t long before he finds himself a whole head and a half taller than the vampire. His father laughs at his shaggy bangs, proclaiming Silver to be more sheep than boy, and attacks his hair with all the ferocity of a mad barber. The lasting effect leaves something to be desired and Silver could swear that the bluebirds by their window are chortling to themselves instead of singing. 

His father ruffles his sharp nails through the butchered mess of Silver’s hair and laughs again, proclaiming them to be matching lopsided twins, and Silver is unable to imagine a moment that he’s ever been happier. 

What a shame it is then, that all good things cannot last. 

The summer of Silver’s sixteenth year is a cruel, unforgiving one. 

The August sun swelters the earth with a breathless heat, insidious like none before. It is relentless in its seething anger to drive the woodland creatures to the deepest burrows in search of shade, the birds to practically droop like molten taffy in their water bowls, and his father to haunt the shadows of their home, face flushed and eyes feverish in a way that no cool rag could soothe. 

There could be no greater pain in Silver’s heart than this: the wilt in his father’s proud spine, the light tremors that seize his clever fingertips. He hovers over the vampire like a fretting maid, hands wringing uselessly as nothing short of the obvious will soothe his father’s condition, and travelers have been few and far between. Lilia conjures up smiles for him and swears that he’ll be alright, it’s simply a harsher season than before, and Silver cannot help but get the distinct feeling that he’s being placated. Even worse, it mostly works, the lonely and frightened child from the woods who sleeps deep in his soul comforted by that unsinkable paternal reassurance. 

Still, Silver is unable to completely shake the feeling that something is amiss. 

Lately, his rest at night has been disturbed. He wakes to the faint sounds of ruptured inhales so very close to his ear, of something in the clear throes of distress, with choked noises of desperately sought after air as if the deprived creature was suffocating. The noises are so frightening, so animalistic in nature that Silver can only think to associate them with his beloved woodland creatures, and yet when he hurries to his bedroom window and peers outside with his heart in his throat to find the poor animal that had been mauled by a predator— there is nothing but the silent gleam of moonlight, shining down upon his deflated flower beds. 

His father merely purses his lips in worry when Silver brings these odd instances to him, and wonders aloud if these are queasy dreams brought on by the heat; with little else to explain, Silver’s inclined to believe him. 

But these events are pushed out of his mind when salvation finally approaches one late afternoon in the weary figure of a man, clinging to the reins of a stumbling horse, at the end of their pathway. 

His father must have sensed the newcomer’s presence too, for Lilia is at the door before Silver can even call for him, ever the gracious host and smiling beatifically at their wayward traveler as if Silver hadn’t needed to shake his shoulders thrice in mounting worry to wake him that very morning. The man eagerly accepts the offer of nightly shelter, passing the reins of his horse to Silver to tie to a post in the welcome shade of a nearby tree, and Silver watches over its broad shoulder as he gently rubs the creature down. His father, ever the effortless conversationalist even at the height of his malady, needs no reins with which to lead the man into the cool, womb-like darkness of their home, and Silver feels a rush of palpable relief at the familiarity of the old song and dance— perhaps at last, his father might finally take a turn for the better.  

The next morning, Silver checks on his father first and smiles to see the vampire snoring away in what must have been his first blissful sleep in weeks, bedsheets haphazardly tangled about him in an ocean of white. With practiced motions, he leans down to straighten the blankets fondly around the slumbering figure, only to wrinkle his nose at the sharp scent of iron heavy on his father’s breath. After such a dry spell, the bitter tang scratches at his senses, and he can’t help but take a glance into their tiny living room where their guest yawns and shuffles in his borrowed blankets. 

Perhaps a breakfast with a healthy side of dark, leafy greens was in order. 

Morning is a quiet and simple affair— his father is sleeping in for once it seems, and Silver makes efficient work out of the early meal for their guest who must have had a rough night of tossing and turning judging by his wrinkled clothes and constant, belly-deep yawns. Silver even offers for the man to stay a while longer if he isn’t fit yet for travel, but their guest insists (rather strongly for his exhausted nature) that he could not impose on their goodwill much longer. With a mental shrug, Silver bows his head and allows the man privacy to retrieve his things, heading outside with the intent to bring the waiting horse to its owner. 

Only, the horse is nowhere to be seen. 

Silver’s heart falters in his chest, and he turns to their departing guest with a litany of apologies on his lips, for he had been so sure of tying the creature up safely for the night, but the man waves him off with an unsteady hand and a smile that keeps attempting to slip from his face as if greased, proclaiming that he had no need for what had been such an aging beast. He could continue his travels alone, and Silver can only watch and uneasily curl his fingers into his palms as the man cuts a wavering figure back down their pathway despite his bewildered protests. 

(“We ought to warn those who stop by that there may be a bear in the woods,” he tells his father later, the vampire having woken long past their traveler’s departure. “The noises I’ve been hearing and now the horse’s disappearance. . . someone could get hurt.” 

His father doesn’t seem too concerned with Silver’s hypothesis, and he supposes that’s simply how one behaves after centuries of besting mortality. Still, he resolves to be more cautious in his time spent outdoors.) 

The man’s arrival marks a turning point in the summer, the blistering dog days giving way to the cooler promise of autumn. It also marks a turning point in his father’s health, one that Silver is initially so incredibly grateful for as the vampire seems to perk up and become the very picture of rosy, energetic grace. The weakened figure of mere weeks prior haunts the corridors of his mind, and Silver finds himself making excuses as his father welcomes the oddly increasing number of strangers who have found themselves down their homely path with open arms and glittering eyes above a wide, gleaming smile. It had simply been a veritable drought of company, and his father, gregarious as he was, was in his element now, thriving off the attention almost as much as the blood that came with it.

And perhaps that is what itched at his nerves most of all. It was one thing to suddenly play house with the travelers that seemed to constantly appear on their doorstep—

(Silver had questioned them, a discomforting notion to learn that not only had they been told of the cottage’s existence by those who staggered off in the mornings, but almost fervently urged to visit.)

—but never before had he witnessed his father drink in such abandon. With such a slow, but steady, trickle of visitors, his father may have sampled another’s blood once or twice a month at most, always cautious enough to not take too much. His father is not a monster, and his kindness exceeds that of all the humanity that Silver had known in his short life— this he tells himself as he averts his gaze from the still-clotting punctures, glistening and accusatory over rumpled shirts. 

His father is not a monster, and he still tells himself this as he stumbles out of his bedroom one cold winter’s night, awoken once more to that strange, garbled collection of sound. His father is not a monster, because it simply could not be his father crouched before him on the floor of their living room, an all too still and silent figure splayed out beneath him like a rag doll. He surely must be dreaming, as those muffled, wet noises pause in their desperate slurping and enlarged fangs draw up and away from a ruined shoulder, dripping in a dark, glutinous substance. His father is not a monster, because the creature hunched in the shadows of a dying fire looks nothing like the angel who had rescued him in the forest all those years ago— whatever this, this thing is, slavering wildly over a face locked in a euphoric death mask, it is not his dearest father.

They behold each other in the scant space of a fragile moment, a bewildered gaze still frozen before the onslaught of horror could possibly sink in opposite that of unmoored feral hunger. Silver thinks back to the knife hidden beneath the drawer of his nightstand, cloaked in dust and dried flowers and the somber protection of a father’s love. He thinks back to the incredible speed that had disposed of the men who had intended to kill him on such a similar frigid night, a speed unmatched to the naked eye. 

The vampire utters his name like a prayer, smeared tenderly in lamb’s blood.

His father is not a monster.

Silver opens his arms, and waits for his angel to carry him home. 

In response to the delicate graze of his father’s gore-drenched claws against his youthful face, the boy’s eyes flutter open at last. Lilia does not seem to notice the vibrancy that has vanished from them, leaving behind the dull haze of a mist-choked morn where once the dawn light soared; perhaps he simply does not care. “Oh, Silver,” he breathes in reverence, the miraculous wonder of a father witnessing his child’s (re)birth for the first time, and he throws his arms around the boy’s stiff shoulders. There is no response, but that is to be expected when one is missing a greater third of their tattered and torn esophagus, the mutilated remains of which are strewn across the floor or smeared over Lilia’s mouth.  “My darling boy, my precious son, how perfect you are at last.”

Silver trembles in his arms like a newborn fawn, and Lilia coos reassurances to him, helps his boy to his feet and steadies his legs as he leads him over to where their meal now lay in a crumpled and tangled heap. It is always cumbersome, the first feeding, and Lilia had no one to guide him through the carnal, mindless greed of his own— no such fate shall befall his son. He will share with him the abundance of milk and honey, lift it to his frozen lips where those new, budding fangs peek innocently above, and watch with boundless pride as new life, a near eternal life, is bestowed upon the one timeless treasure he has coveted in over six hundred stolen centuries. 

Later, they will bury the body together, sink the flesh deep within the garden where the others take their rest, a cluster of pearly white bones only disturbed by an odd set of larger, equine-shaped ones. Later still, when a young man approaches their home in the evening gloom to seek shelter on the long, arduous journey to his grandfather, Silver will greet him. He will smile enchantingly over his new high-necked shirt and take his hand, drawing him deep into the clutches of their wonderful little home, deep into the blessed darkness where his father waits. The table will stay barren, the bed unmade— there is no more need for pretense between the two of them. Not now, and not ever. 

Lilia can see it all. And with pleasure, he smiles. 

[sweetums0kitty]

Good Things in Small Packages

Edward Nashton x Soft!Dom reader

Warnings: Bondage, edging, 18+, Minors DNI.

Summary: Eddie won't listen when you say he's beautiful, what better way to convince him than a game of cat and mouse

Commission for @lovesickrobotic

“Lovely, just lovely.” Placing a long revenant kiss onto the cherubic cheek of the man securely bound below you. His lengthy form contorted slightly pushing himself further into the mess of pillows you had set him against. Pouting you leaned over and gently grasped his flushed cheek tilting the rounded face of your beloved. Edward was caught instantly within the intensity of the gaze. From the way you held his face gently stroking the right side with your left hand while the other was tracing the tendons of his throat. His pulse was racing wildly causing a gentle giggle to bubble up and out of your chest. "Eddie!" cooing you lent forward and placed another kiss on his fervent skin eliciting a shrill whine that buzzed your lips pleasantly. Edward squirmed under your touch but it was no use the silken fabric contoured around his plush form binding him to your will. Which, presently was to absolutely drench his entire being with as much affection as you could. Usually, Eddie would shy away from your praise, ducking his head to avoid the intensive expressions of love you desperately longed to lavish him with. Well! No more could he dodge you, once and for all you were going to worship Eddie the way he deserved.

Moving your lips downward you began to pepper little pecks and licks into the lower portion of Edward's face. Making doubly sure to reserve your slowest kisses for those points on his neck that pulled the sweetest sounds from within. "Y-Y/N I-!" nipping lightly at his Adam's apple Edward was bucking below you wildly. The contact with your soft lips and curved form was entirely too much and nothing at all. Internally a war was brewing in your beloved. The softer part of Edward was clawing fiercely to accept your affections, sink himself back into the pillows, and stuffed toys you had placed around his bound form in devoted adoration. But no matter how he tried the nagging voice in his brain slithered in whispering that he wasn't worth your love, and didn't deserve to be cared for in this way. There wasn't a time before meeting and falling in love with you that Eddie was shown this level of care, why should he get used to it now? Why should he grow fond of the feeling of your lips on his feverish skin… When… when… Before the negative spiral could truly take root you had crashed your lips to his in a fervent kiss chasing away the storm clouds and refocusing Edward's attention on you.

"You're thinking too much!" cooing in a sing-song tone. Your nails gently scratched his scalp stroking Edward's soft brown hair. Leaning into your touch your boyfriend mewled forlornly. "Sorry… I guess I'm not good at this whole… being loved thing." shrugging to the best of his ability despite the bindings. Frowning slightly as you thought of how best to get Edward's mind focused where it really belonged. Slowly a wicked grin formed on your lips. "Eddie~!" purring seductively as you sensually stroked his protruding stomach. You adored every inch of his lengthy body but his tenderly soft tummy was your favorite. He was staring at you with a slightly concerned expression saying nothing. Kissing his cheek you leaned into his ear whispering lowly "You wanna play a game?" Words dripping with seduction watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed shallowly. "What kind of game?" came his nervous reply. Giggling you wrapped an arm around his shoulders as you tugged him flush to your body. The sides of your breasts were pressing into his pallid chest. With every breath you took, they pushed tantalizingly close to his. "One we can both win.. one that lets me open you up. You are my special gift aren't you?" With the way, the bright green pupils behind his lenses were dilated you knew you were on the right track. "I- uh.. yeah." the reply was lame but blood was quickly rushing out of Edward's brain as you began to kiss your way down his body.

"Wha-ahh-t's the game?" voice cracking as your warm, wet tongue swirled around his quickly hardening nipples. Causing a hissing sigh from his plush lips when you began to suck gently. Kissing and licking the buds. Your other hand rolled the pert nipple under your thumb. Eddie's chest heaved as he moaned from your worship. Popping off his chest you kissed between his collarbones and laid them into his sternum. "Mm, since you can't seem to find it in you to accept my praise.. even though it's the absolute truth! I thought we'd try a little "positive reinforcement" using your fingers to continue to massage his chest. "How are you going to that?" his voice melted into a high-pitched whine of disappointment as you moved downwards licking lazily around the ribbons that crissed and crossed over his stomach. Bits of him sagged over the bows. He was your beautiful gift. Time to start unraveling the wrappings that held Eddie to earth. Nibbling gently at the pudge that resided there. It always struck you dumb over how beautiful he was in all his soft curves and long features. There was a grace in how his brow furrowed while working out a puzzle, how fast his brilliant mind would work out a problem and find the answer. However, you found him most beautiful at the precipice between brilliance and pure animal lust. Emerald eyes locked onto your hand as it slowly drifted down between his soft thighs. Gently running your nails between the binds around his flesh, twirling around his already leaking cock. You giggled softly as his hips bucked into your phantom touches. "God Eddie…" breathing heavily as you pressed warm, worshipful kisses around the skin of his inner thighs, before drifting your mouth over and hotly kissing his weeping cockhead. Listening to the sweet sobs that fell from his throat all while you worshipped him. Suddenly you bent up from between his legs using the binds at his chest as leverage to bring him in for a kiss that was all passion, yet still gentle. Softly exploring the cavern of his mouth with your tongue. His danced along yours in a fluttering mating ritual that pulled a guttural groan from deep within your throat.

Pulling way to cradle his flushed cheeks you gazed down at his little love-drunk smile. Gently you moved back down his body sitting between his thighs. "You ready to play the game sweetie?" Looking up at him through your lashes catching sight of his quickly bobbing mess of tawny brown hair "M'ready….." hips squirming together to the best of his abilities, you sighed quickly pinning him down. "Easy Eddie!" Cooing you gently stoked his thigh letting your hand fall to the taught base of his cock, where your silky soft hand ghosted up the shaft gripping it firmly in the middle. Letting it rest as you looked directly into his blown-out eyes, nearly black with lust. "The game is simple, I'm going to play with your cock and every time I compliment you, you're going to repeat what I say back or I'll stop stroking. Gluping down the lump in his throat your sweet little gift nodded shallowly to show he understood. Smiling at his acceptance you placed your other hand on his lower stomach, petting the flushed skin that resided there. "Good boy."

It was then time for the game to begin. All at once you had spit into your hand and then began to slowly pump his cock. Up, down, up, down, it was methodical the way you were massaging his skin. Thumb traveling up to circle his red tip. Your hands were heaven on earth for Edward as low sobbing moans flowed out of him. Enjoying the way his chest heaved as all the mussels in his body strained against the ribbons. In a moment your hand stopped pulling his attention to your face. "Eddie… You're so beautiful, the most beautiful person in Gotham." Starting with a hard one probably wasn't fair, but it was for the best. Almost gagging on his words Eddie's broken little voice choked out "I-I'm beau-fuck!" Your pointer finger and thumb had formed a ring and that was what currently was rubbing against his throbbing shaft going from feather soft to tight against him in an instant. "I-I- I'm beautiful! T-the most beautiful person- in Gah-Gotham!" squealing at the end as your nails brushed his leaky slit. "Good job Eddie!" cooing his flushed, sweat-covered skin, the silly round smile painted onto his cheeks Time for a harder one." You matter so so much, I don't know what I would do without you." He squeaked as you kept rubbing his cock milking the compliments from his lips. The same way you were milking the pre-cum from his tip.

Edward squeezed his eyes shut, in an almost pained expression, Your words, he heard them, they slammed into his heart like a fright train but he just couldn't get them to repeat, "Y-Y/N I can't- I'm not!" babbling as his body kept pulling at the ribbons, thrashing back into the large squishmallow he was snuggled into. Tears had begun to form on long bottom lashes, and the pink rose petals of his bottom lip wobbled tragically. Still, your hand deftly continued to rub at him. "Yes you can baby, I know you can." crooning softly. Your warm lips kissed his stomach lazily as you rested your head on his lower abdomen. "You don't want me to stop do you?" before you could finish asking Eddie shrieked no. Laughing slightly at the response you smiled while using your other hand to wipe his tears. "Recite." firmly holding his cock in place.

"I… matter so, so much" Choking down a sob as you kept massaging his dick Eddie managed to continue his recitation. Over and over your words were pounded into his skull as you expertly kept him on the edge of his orgasm. Finally coming to the very last set of words for him to repeat. Smoothly you had settled into Eddie's side a fitting place to be when he reached his end. "I'm a very good boy, who is going to cum all over my hand." In his state of delirium, Eddie didn't notice your command. Too busy being a blushing fucked out mess he mumbled the words back. "M'a very good boy… Gunna cum all o'ver your hand." It wasn't until you were letting go of his cock and he felt the thick ropes of cum hitting his stomach that he realized the whining moans were his own. You soothed Eddie through his orgasm gently cradling him in your arms as you stroked his hair. "Thank you, baby, you did so good for me." Peppering kisses into his cheeks. Coming down for his high Edward snuggled into your arms. He was stripped bare and laid out before you. But instead of mocking him or ripping his heart out you took the parts of him that sagged with lack of love and filled it with your adoration for him. "I- love you Y/N.." gasping between heaving breaths. You simply returned your lips to his kissing Edward as if your lives depended on it.

[blackmetalbats]

Dies Irae

I am so sorry but i did a deep dive on the Dies Irae because of the last malevolent episode and now its gonna be all of you's problem.

one of the oldest and most frequently borrowed of all melodies is the ecclesiastical plainsong to the sequence 'Dies Irae', because of the theme's intrinsic merit, but also its liturgical associations. No record of its origin remains, but both words and melody appear to have been suggested by a passage from the Respond ' Libera me, Domine', which follows the Requiem Mass (catholic mass for the dead) on solemn occasion.

SOURCE: Gregory, R. (1953). “Dies Irae.” http://www.jstor.org/stable/730837

the Requiem Mass contained several special components; the Dies Irae was one of these, formally added to the Mass in 1570. Its text was penned by Thomas of Celano during the late 11th or early 12th century, and it offers a graphic depiction of the horrors of Judgment Day for sinners. the New Catholic Encyclopedia states that

"The medieval Sequence stresses fear of judgment and condemnation."

SOURCE: Brooks, E. (2003). "The Dies Irae ("Day of Wrath") and Totentanz ("Dance of Death"): Medieval Themes Revisited in 19th Century Music and Culture." https://scholarworks.uark.edu/inquiry/vol4/iss1/5

Centre panel from Memling's tryptich Last Judgment (c. 1467–1471)

the text contains three basic references:

(1) Zephaniah 1:15,16

That day is a day of wrath, a day of trouble and distress, a day of wasteness and desolation, a day of darkness and gloominess, a day of clouds and thick darkness, a day of the trumpet and alarm, against the fortified cities, and against the high battlements.

(2) II Peter 3:10-12

But the day of the Lord will come as a thief; in which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall be dissolved with fervent heat, and the earth and the works that are therein shall be burned up. Seeing that these things are thus all to be dissolved, what manner of persons ought ye to be in all holy living and godliness, looking for and earnestly desiring the coming of the day of God, by reason of which the heavens being on fire shall be dissolved, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat?

(3) finally, the judgment portion of Matthew 25 is cited as part of the scriptural basis for the "Dies Irae."

THE TEXT, in an english translation from the original latin

Day of wrath and doom impending, David's word with Sibyl blending! Heaven and earth in ashes ending!

O, what fear man's bosom rendeth, When from heaven the Judge descendeth. On whose sentence all dependeth!

Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth, Through earth's sepulchers it ringeth. All before the throne it bringeth.

Death is struck, and nature quaking, All creation is awaking. To its Judge an answer making.

Lo! the book exactly worded. Wherein all hath been recorded; Thence shall judgment be awarded.

When the Judge His seat attaineth, And each hidden deed arraigneth. Nothing unavenged remaineth.

What shall I, frail man, be pleading ? Who for me be interceding. When the just are mercy needing?

King of majesty tremendous, Who dost free salvation send us. Fount of pity, then befriend us!

Think, kind Jesus! my salvation Caused Thy wondrous Incarnation; Leave me not to reprobation.

Faint and weary Thou hast sought me. On the Cross of suffering bought me; Shall such grace be vainly brought me ?

Righteous Judge! for sin's pollution Grant Thy gift of absolution. Ere that day of retribution.

Guilty, now I pour my moaning. All my shame with anguish owning; Spare, O God, Thy suppliant groaning!

Through the sinful woman shriven. Through the dying thief forgiven. Thou to me a hope has given.

Worthless are my prayers and sighing. Yet, good Lord, in grace complying, Rescue me from fires undying.

With Thy favored sheep O place me, Nor among the goats abase me. But to Thy right hand upraise me.

While the wicked are confounded. Doomed to flames of woe unbounded. Call me with Thy Saints surrounded.

Low I kneel, with heart submission. Crushed to ashes in contrition; Help me in my last condition!

Ah! that day of tears and mourning! From the dust of earth returning, Man for judgment must prepare him;

Spare, O God, in mercy spare him! Lord all-pitying, Jesu Blest, Grant them Thine eternal rest.

the first six stanzas describe the Judgment. the other stanzas are lyric in character, expressing anguish of one of the multitude there present in spirit; his pleading before the Judge who, while on earth, sought him unceasingly over the hard and thorny ways from Bethlehem to Calvary; and now, in anticipation of the Judgment, pleads before a Savior of infinite mercy, who, on Judgment Day, will be a Judge of infinite justice, before whom scarcely the just will be secure.

SOURCE: Demaray, D. E. (1965). "Thomas of Celano and the" Dies Irae". https://place.asburyseminary.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2018&context=asburyjournal

[bucknastysbabe]

heya, just wanted to ask if you write for chubby!aegon?? If so I’m dying for a request (even just a small blurb) just about Aegon and how he’d be with an innocent reader? including how the sex would be cause I reckon he’d still be sooo good won’t even phase the dude 😭 + breeding kink, thank youuuuu!!!

THIS WAS FUN!!! Thanks for the ask, hope it’s good mwah! I had a hard time researching English things. The whole crisps-biscuit-chips-muffins is a nightmare but they did it first soooo. But then went on a hole again on why southern Americans have the accent they do, an educational lesson in the name of smut!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Frottage, TW: WG, internalized hate, sad boy Aegon, Tyrell!Reader, she’s pretty innocent but Goes For It, chubby Aegon revolution, breeding kink, culture differences, innocence kink, He’s Trying To Do Right For The Poon

Cumming face on God ⤵️

According to the Faith, man and wife should remain chaste until they are wedded. Aegon was definitely not that man. Alicent had hammered it into his aching heads that his bride-to-be will remain untouched. The prince said fuck that and the stupid Gods she adhered to. Targaryen’s did what they want.

If they did exist they crafted his sweet little nymph to tempt the wicked men of the world. Aegon could barely restrain himself from jumping her bones when she giggled at Otto’s dry wit, or helped Helaena scoop up one of those hideous bugs she cared so much for.

The girl was a Tyrell. Otto had to pull some serious strings, or swords to get them to allow the cousin of the powerful Reach family to be his wife. Viserys wanted him to marry Helaena. Aegon refused to consummate, one of the few things he stood up for. They were annulled and Hel ended up with dutiful Aemond. They seemed like a good fit— strange.

Aegon slugged down some wine after his generous portion of meat. His belt dug into his belly. The blonde skimmed a conscious hand down his once flat stomach. His bride would probably think him a pig. Aegon frowned, planning on dragging his lazy ass to training or taking Sunfyre on more arduous rides.

Something to melt off the flesh softened by the drink.

Her musical giggle interrupted Aegon’s thoughts. He glanced up to her wide eyes, quirking a brow. She ducked, hiding a hand over her sculpted lips, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His cock twitched. Aemond held that annoying smirk of his. His cock un-twitched, if that was possible. The eldest Targaryen snapped, “What’s the fuss?”

She shook her head, snickering. Aemond supplied, “I was telling the little rose about the time you were so drunk they found you trying to ride Cole’s horse thinking it was Sunfyre,” he barked a laugh and waved his hands, “Sōvēs! Sōvēs!” Aegon’s face grew red with irritation. Stupid one-eye.

He grumbled, “Real funny Aemond. Never thought you’d get that spiked cock out of your ass to make jest,” violet eyes turned to the Tyrell, “In your free time, ask dear brother about the Pink Dread hm?”

Aemond slammed his cup down and hissed, “I think I see the pink dread supping right now.”

Aegon was flustered now. Absolutely joyous was he. The pretty girl’s snickers died down to a gaping look. Aegon stood up with his refilled wine and called, “I’ve had my fill, good night to you lovely rose.” Aemond smarted, “Are you positive Aegon? Usually half the feast is gone by now.”

The younger brother shared a look with the Tyrell, shrugging with a ‘hm.’

Aegon fought back the tears in his purple eyes. He was thoroughly embarrassed. He yanked off his belt in a fit, ignoring the pooch of his belly. Off he stomped to his quarters, ignoring one of the twins. Slamming the door behind him, Aegon perched on a thick wooden chair, a trusty flagon already prepared.

He slumped down, poking his soft midsection. Aegon squeezed at his thighs and arms, growing more upset. He groaned aloud, taking a swig of the Dornish Spiced. The prince couldn’t help but wonder if he was dooming the girl to a life of misery like Alicent and Viserys.

Forced to lay under a writhing, bloated man. Bear his heirs.

He suddenly felt very ill. Aegon blew out a breath to calm himself. He ended up tossing the flagon of wine out the window in a fit anyhow. Aegon had never once stopped his race to be the worst being to think about reality. Reality was harsh, unforgiving, made his head spin. He felt ill again, an uncomfortable flush making the prince sweat.

The door was rapped upon, once, twice. Aegon miserably groaned, “What Cargyll? Tell mother I’m indisposed!” The blonde dreadfully wanted to undress but feared what he might see. He had an inkling it was ghastly pale and girlish.

Softened by indulgence.

Aegon’s eyes flicked up to the door, an insult on pouty lips. Instead it was his rose, bashfully peaking through. He straightened up, sucked his belly in as best as possible. Her pretty curls bounced as she squeaked, “The Queen had forbade me from entering your chambers but you looked so upset my lord. Ser Cole said I could visit for a short time. Is everything alright?”

He sighed and thanked the strange Valyrian gods for letting him toss the wine. At least he didn’t look like a total drunkard. Aegon sighed, “Uh, I’m not feeling very well, but do come in.” She gave a small curtsy and rushed in, green silks dazzling against pretty skin. The lady perched delicately against the chair adjacent to Aegon.

The blonde’s violet eyes searched her own, wide and doe-like. He asked in a quick breath, “Do you find me pleasing?” She opened her mouth to be cut off, “Don’t lie to me little rose.” Aegon’s twisted soul vastly enjoyed her surprised noise and tremble of untouched lips. He couldn’t help but watch the flicker of uncertainty making the highborn woman squirm like a beggar, posture drooping.

She gaped, closed her mouth, and let out a small ‘hm.’

Aegon hid his fear with a lazy, “Hm? Taking too long dear.” He spluttered when she launched into his lap. Face to face. Her legs tight against his own, hanging off the sides of the chair. The Tyrell stared him down, a never before seen intensity to his eyes. Her little hands braced against his chest.

Aegon meekly asked, “Is that a yes, my lady?”

He grew more hot under the collar, her tight little body against his softened own. She hummed, “That was uncouth. I didn’t know to how explain that I find your very desirable.” The Reach girl curled a hand into his pale hair, smiling. She whispered, “I’d never thought I’d be married to one of the beautiful dragonlords. My father said your kind is too pretty.”

Aegon found himself hiding a genuine grin up at her. He liked her accent, even the nobles of the Reach sounded strange with their ‘r’s. The prince gently laid a shaking hand on her lower back, humming, “Am I too pretty? I cut my hair but now I feel like a muffin.”

She shook her head, curls bobbing. Aegon willed his cock to still. The Tyrell giggled, “You’re beautiful my prince.” Now was Aegon’s chance to go ahead and break the seal. He injected in a jumble of words, “Am I not trim enough?” His face was suffused in a blush now. How suave.

She laughed harder, “What? You should see the lords of the reach, massive beasts they are,” the lady slid a hand down to his belly, “I’d say you’re the right size. Not all boney like your brother.”

Aegon felt himself relax. Besides his prick. That thing was coming to full attention, fast. He sighed, “Thank the damn Seven.” The prince leaned into her face, earning a sharp inhale from her. He purred, “I’d be a right mess if I didn’t have the attentions of the prettiest rose in the Seven Kingdoms.” It was her turn to grow flustered now.

She looked to the side, biting her full lower lip all bashful and shy. Aegon grabbed her chin and redirected her look. The Targaryen breathed, “No, no, look at me now rosebud. You’ve got your prince riled up.”

His cock ached at her blown pupils, lips lax and for the taking. She whispered, “We can’t yet.” Aegon tucked himself into her tight curls, humming, “There’s other ways around it. As long as I don’t take your maidenhead dear.” She whimpered, hands clawing into his tight doublet.

“H-how do we do that?”

Aegon hummed, “Get on my bed and pull up that dress of yours. Your prince commands it.”

He lazily grinned at her jumping up and skittering to the bed, haphazardly toeing off her shoes. She hopped on and hiked up that beautiful green samite, exposing herself. Aegon’s violet eyes scanned her closed lips, shaking hands, and swollen cunt. He bit down on his knuckles with a groan.

Her shy reed of voice filled the room.

“Aegon? Will you come here already, please? I wish to look upon you.”

Aegon ambled up and approached her, breathing out in relief of the loosening of his stupidly tight breeches. He yanked off his boots first, promising, “Just a moment my rose.” She whimpered again, gazing upon his thickened thighs. The prince crawled between her trembling thighs, smoothing his hands up quavering flesh.

He lectured, “We’ll keep it outside for now. There’s other places on your perfect pussy that’ll make you cry for me,” Aegon nestled his cock against her weeping cunt. She wound a hand into his hair, pulling the prince flush to her body while kissing his plump lips. The prince couldn’t help but rut against his rose at the way she whined and eagerly received his more skilled kisses.

Aegon gripped her thighs as he drug his stiff cock against her clit and slit, the glide impossibly easier with the copious slick. His rose cried into their kisses, babbling against his lips. “S’good, oh my prince,” she whimpered. Aegon crooned, “Poor thing, hasn’t had a man show her real pleasure. Taking what you want.”

The prince off-handedly unbuttoned his coat, uncaring of his pudgy body. Not when this gorgeous creature was crying and begging wrapped around him, calling his name, sworn to bear his children. And those Tyrell’s were famously fertile as the grounds they ruled over.

She made a pouting noise at the release of Aegon’s lips, squeezing her thighs in annoyance. He laughed and spewed filth, “So eager for me already. I can’t wait to fill your pretty pussy full on our wedding night.” The girl practically howled at that, growing frantic. Aegon teased, “Yeah my rose? You like that? Getting stuffed full of my seed, bearing my heirs? Round and ripe with it?”

Tears pricked her eyes as she sobbed, “Yes! Yes! Wan’ your pretty babies!” She seized his lips for a sloppy embrace, whining and carrying one, leaking more and more. Aegon moaned himself, focusing on stimulating her bundle of nerves. She was tightening beneath him, grasping hands growing more insistent. The blonde murmured, “C’mon then, m’close sweets. Cum on me.”

She nodded and gushed against his cock, legs squishing into his waist. Aegon’s eyes rolled back, cumming to her desperate cries and hot slick. He grunted and yelped her name, rolling them over. She whimpered softly, panting while now on top. Aegon’s cock grew limp as he kissed her a couple more times.

She hummed, “I can’t wait. I’ll have as many as you want Aegon. As many.” She gently thumbed his plumped cheek, smiling at the degenerate like he hung the moon. Aegon grinned for once, promising, “I’ll give you as many my sweet,” he smacked her ass, “Too busy to rule because I’m fucking my fertile wife huh?”

Round two was about to begin based on her darkening look.

[growingstories]

Bartender

Once upon a time in the vibrant city of Melbourne, there lived a handsome and charismatic 30-year-old bartender named Jake. With his chiseled jawline, muscular physique, and contagious smile, he was adored by many in the gay community. Known for his exceptional bartending skills and his clever wit, Jake had established his very own bar in the heart of a thriving gay area.

Jake's daily routine was a testament to his dedication to fitness and self-care. Every morning, he would hit the gym, sculpting body his to perfection. After an intense workout, he would grab his surfboard and spend the afternoon riding the waves, basking in the glory of nature's beauty. A healthy lunch, filled with vibrant and nutritious ingredients, would replenish his energy before he prepared his bar for the bustling night that lay ahead.

As charming as he was, Jake had a mischievous side. He loved to tease and flirt with wealthy men, knowing that they would willingly shower him with luxurious dinners and expensive gifts. He relished the attention the and temporary financial security it provided. Occasionally, he even had a sugar daddy who paid his rent for a few months, but he never let any of these men get too close.

However, fate had a different plan in store for Jake. Deep down, he longed for genuine a connection, someone who would see past his enticing exterior and appreciate the person he was inside. Little did he know that his desire for a substantial relationship would lead him down an unexpected path.

One day, Jake met a handsome man named Ethan. Tall, with piercing blue eyes and a charismatic personality, swept Ethan Jake off his feet. In an attempt to win Jake's affection, Ethan showered him with lavish dinners and gifts, just as many others had done before. Jake played hard to get, enjoying the luxury Ethan's affections offered but resisting commitment.

Unbeknownst to both Jake and Ethan, there was another man, Ryan, who had also fallen for Jake's charms. Equally wealthy and enamored with Jake's alluring magnetism, Ryan pursued him just as relentlessly, vying for his attention and affection. Jake, playing his cards just right, found himself caught between these two admirers.

As fate would have it, Jake eventually began dating both Ethan and Ryan, playing the role of elusive lover for each of them. He reveled in the extravagance and attention that came with dating two wealthy men, neither aware that they were sharing the same man.

However, things took a turn when Ethan and Ryan Jake's discovered double life. Consumed by feelings of betrayal and anger, they concocted a devious plan to keep Jake occupied and make him gain weight. They spread the word among their gay acquaintances, urging them to join their scheme.

Soon, invitations started pouring in for double dinners and social events filled with tempting, indulgent meals. Promises of buying him luxurious clothes and items were made, but ultimately never fulfilled. Jake, oblivious to their wicked plot, fell into their trap.

Weeks turned into months, and Jake's once sculpted physique began to soften. A few pounds here and there went unnoticed until he could no longer fit into his designer clothes. The once-flattering attention from admiring gazes and flirtatious interactions faded, as his bar patrons began to lose interest. Jake's financial stability wavered, and he had to rely on his dates more and more to sustain his extravagant lifestyle.

Desperate and frustrated, Jake started going out with Ethan and Ryan more frequently. He indulged in their every suggestion, consuming larger portions and fattening treats that only served to further expand his waistline. The lure of his former life and dwindling self-esteem pushed him to skip the gym, leaving him feeling unattractive and defeated.

With the absence of attention from adoring women and his declining tips at the bar, Jake's desolation escalated. As a last resort, he surrendered to his desperation and had a sexual encounter with one of the men involved in the wicked game. The man, filled with remorse, took pity on Jake and offered his care and support, on condition the that Jake would continue to his insatiable indulge appetite.

And so, Jake grew fatter and fatter each day, his once toned body hidden beneath layers of excess weight. The companionship he received, albeit conditional, offered him a sense of belonging and the luxury of a life lived at his leisure. He reveled in the attention and pampering, gradually becoming complacent in his newfound existence.

The treacherous duo, Ethan, Ryan, that showed him care, formed an agreement to take care of Jake together. Their love, though fueled by remorse, provided Jake with everything he desired. He no longer had to lift a finger as they took care of his every need, showering him with decadent meals, expensive gifts, and, occasionally, sexual pleasure.

Over time, Jake's weight skyrocketed, becoming a mere shadow of the sexy bartender he once was. His immense girth prevented him from continuing his work at the bar, rendering him increasingly dependent on his companions for sustenance and care.

Though the attention and luxurious treatment initially delighted Jake, he became a prisoner of his own desires, isolated within his ever-expanding body. The once-charismatic and vibrant man transformed into a recluse, hidden away from the world, living a life dominated by indulgence and excess. It was addictive. A drug that made him always want more, more presents, more food, more sex. And so that circle continued.

[fafnir19]

Circumcised Budget

Tylor despised the football jocks at school. Not only did they behave as if they owned the world, they also received a significant portion of the school budget – leaving no money for Tylor's science subjects. However, rumors circulated about a temple of a dark cult within the school. With most afternoon courses canceled due to budget constraints, except for football training, Tylor found himself with free time on his hands. The scientist within him couldn't resist the urge to visit the temple. The temple was a massive building with residential quarters and a main section with an altar and marble columns.

Tylor's heart thudded in his chest as he stepped into the dimly lit temple. The marble columns rose high above him, casting elongated shadows along the cold stone floor. The scent of incense hung heavy in the air, adding to the mystique.

Tylor wandered cautiously through the ancient corridors until he was approached by a figure clad in dark robes. "Who dares intrude upon our sanctuary?" the figure hissed, their voice echoing through the hall. Tylor stumbled backward, his voice faltering. "I... I apologize. I didn't mean to disturb you." The figure's eyes glinted with curiosity as they stepped closer. "Rest assured, young one. You have not disturbed me. But tell me, what brings you to our temple? What secrets do you seek?" Tylor hesitated, then decided to be honest. "I despise those football jocks at school. They receive all the privileges, while my science subjects suffer. I want to level the playing field." The figure nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of their lips. "Ah, I understand your frustration. Fear not, for our Grandmaster possesses the ability to grant your desires. Follow me. The figure led Tylor to a secluded chamber where a man with a dark and seductive aura waited for them. The Grandmaster, Darius, studied Tylor with a penetrating gaze. "So, young one, you wish to change the tides of fortune?" Darius spoke, his voice carrying an air of authority. Tylor nodded nervously. "Yes, Grandmaster. I want to receive a bit more privileges. The  football jocks have such a big budget but what is with science." Darius waved a hand, summoning a swirl of mist that danced before Tylor's eyes. "Then you shall have your wish. Attend our rituals every other day, and your desires shall be fulfilled."

Two weeks passed, and Tylor couldn't believe his eyes. The school's science budget had miraculously slightly increased. The rumors were true - dark magic held true power.

Filled with a newfound enthusiasm, Tylor approached Darius once more, ready to take the next step. "What must I do to claim the same budget as the jocks, Grandmaster?" Tylor asked, his voice brimming with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. Darius leaned closer, a glint of wickedness in his eyes. "To truly claim the same budget as the football jocks, you must offer a sacrifice. A piece of your own flesh. You must be willing to be circumcised." Tylor's breath caught in his throat, but the allure was too tempting to resist.

Some days later Tylor stood in the dimly lit temple, surrounded by the grandeur of the marble altar and towering columns. He felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation as he awaited the arrival of Grandmaster Darius. The whispers of the shadows danced around him, filling the air with an otherworldly energy. Suddenly, the soft tap of footsteps echoed throughout the temple, and Tylor turned to see the imposing figure of Grandmaster Darius approaching. His cloak billowed behind him, and his eyes gleamed with an intensity that sent a shiver down Tylor's spine. "Darius," Tylor began, his voice quivering with anticipation. "I have come to honor our agreement." Darius smiled, a wicked smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Ah, young Tylor," he said, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and malice. "How eager you are to embrace the darkness. Are you truly ready for what awaits you?" Tylor nodded, determined to see his desires fulfilled. "I am ready, Grandmaster. I will do whatever it takes." The Grandmaster's eyes seemed to bore into Tylor's soul as he spoke. "Very well then, young initiate. Let the ceremony commence."

As Darius chanted incantations, a wave of darkness swept over the temple, enveloping Tylor in its ethereal embrace. Trembling with anticipation, he laid himself upon the cold marble altar, offering himself up to the forces beyond his comprehension. With a swift motion, Darius severed Tylor's foreskin, causing a sharp pain to surge through his body. The pain was quickly replaced with a sense of exhilaration as Darius put the foreskin upon his finger and the severed flesh transformed into a gleaming silver ring.

Darius chuckled:” It is done. From this moment forth, your desires are under my control. And your new desire, Tylor, shall be to become a priest of our dark cult.”

Tylor gasped, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the weight of his desires shifting, as if a veil had been lifted from his consciousness. But as his mind began to clear, his voice betrayed him - "I want to become a priest." The words escaped from Tylor's lips before he could fully comprehend the consequence of his desire. He struggled, attempting to resist his newfound fate, but the compulsion was overwhelming. Darius chuckled darkly, reveling in his victory.

"But what about the budget?" Tylor managed to stutter, desperately clinging to one final trace of his former self. Darius's smile widened, displaying his satisfaction. "Fear not, young Tylor. I always keep my promises. Your wish is granted, my young disciple. From this day forth, you will become a part of the football jocks, with all privileges bestowed upon you." Tylor's cry of protest died on his lips.  In a twisted turn of events, Tylor watched in disbelief as the football jocks from his school materialized before him.

They circled around him, their hands reaching out, and Tylor could only watch as they touched and caressed him. Then he saw Josh the jock he hated the most.

Josh spread Tylor's legs and began licking his hole. Tylor hated that thought, but his cock twitched and was soon at full mast. Tylor's feelings towards Josh changed and although he tried to fight it, his hatred turned into pure lust and desire. Darius commanded, "Josh, plant your seed in Tylor and make him your scion. The seed will grow and turn him into an athlete." An agonized scream escaped Tylor's lips as he felt Josh's hard cock enter his virgin hole penetrated, but soon Tylor was consumed by the pleasure. Josh shot his load into Tylor and his body reshaped itself, muscles bulging and his once slender frame transforming into an athletic jock. The pain mixed with a strange feeling of exhilaration and admiration for Josh as he emerged from the transformation, now indistinguishable from the athletes he despised.

The next morning, Tylor stood among the jocks, an enthusiastic smile plastered on his face as they made their way to the temple. With each step, a sense of belonging washed over him. The camaraderie of the jocks was rivaled by nothing he had ever experienced before, and the dark cult's rituals only deepened their bond.

Darius announced that it was time for Tylor's oath, and a hush fell over the temple. As he vowed to serve the dark cult, Tylor felt a surge of power coursing through his veins.

Darius was satisfied and said to the other jocks: "You were successful and Tylor pledged me his entire existence and his entire being!" That's why I give you the strength to beat your competitors and advance to the next football league! And then the chearleaders will fulfill your most perverted wishes.”

And so, surrounded by the cheers of his fellow athletes, Tylor’s transformation was complete. As they moved up to the next football league, Tylor reveled in his newfound desires and the darkness that now consumed his soul.

One day Darius asked Tylor, “Is it okay with you if I cut the science budget?” Tylor was confused and replied, “Sure, science isn’t real. Dark magic rules the world!” He had no idea of ​​the true depths of darkness he had just embarked on, a path that would test him beyond his wildest imaginations.

[vampiricgf]

this is such a fantastic post about lycaons background with mockingbird and his agent story that I didn't want to derail but I do have my own ideas on what his experience with mockingbird might be and his vampire friends background

have you heard the tale of gamelyn? it goes roughly like this: a wealthy man's youngest son is left to the care of his wicked older brother that wants to cheat him out of his inheritance. The father is on his deathbed when he gets his youngest son and neighbors as witness to him dividing his lands up between his children before his death.

The neighbors leave, he dies, and gamelyn is at the mercy of his older brother. He grows up in his brother's hall, his share of their fathers lands held in trust by his brother as well. Except he's let his youngest brothers share of the land fall to ruin, he abuses gamelyn, they fight horribly over gamelyns ruined portion of the inheritance.

In the final scene of lycaon and the vampire we can infer the vampire is possibly wealthy himself at this point

Ornate, large gold trimmed window, the presumably high ceilings of the office he stands in having carved woodwork, even his clothing suggests by this time lycaons former partner has done quite well for himself. That could be from funds they acquired through their mockingbird "work" or because he has a similar background to the story of gamelyn.

The vampire is incredibly theatric, we see him making young lycaon recite an oath in very flowery language and we see his influence on lycaon as an adult despite their estrangement, from his accent to his strict adherence to his role as a dutiful butler. Wealthy people love theatrics and dramatics, and if the vampire is a sort of gamelyn inspired figure, background wise, it would make sense he would found a "steal from the rich give to the poor" sort of criminal organization. And perhaps a younger lycaon simply wasn't aware of the depth of his friends entanglement with wealth and inheritance at that point, maybe meeting after the vampire had already been cast out by his wealthy family, his inheritance usurped.

He tells lycaon family is a curse and a burden, essentially. It would make sense for him to have that viewpoint if he is inspired by the story of gamelyn to some degree, being betrayed by his family for status/material wealth and it might make him resentful of the wealthy as a class, making them his prime target. And perhaps it was a sort of betrayal to lycaon, who believed the organization had more upstanding roots in a real desire to take from those who have an excess and give it to those who do not, if he found out about this part of his friend and how deeply that would have impacted the creation of their organization. Maybe lycaon became extremely disillusioned with it all, realizing it was not what it presented itself to be and was truly a tool for personal revenge.

The final nail in the coffin so to speak may have been whatever happened to cause the loss of his left eye and his legs at the knee. If he lost those in service to mockingbird, his friend that was maybe not entirely truthful about his real motivations, it could have been the final straw for lycaon. unable to remain as loyal as he promised when confronted with the fact that he had suffered substantial losses in service to someone who is ultimately selfish and self serving, not who he believed he was. due to how lycaon stresses loyalty in himself to a "master" I believe it would take an extremely serious event like that to trigger someone like him into making the choice to abandon the object of his loyalty.

but that's just my silly lil ramblings and it's just as possible im wrong about all that but it is fun to think about

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Eros

a/n Don't have a clue about what this is or what this will be. As with most of my series the first chapter is always a test run. But I want to say a huge thank you to @moonlightazriel and @fieldofdaisiies for being my beta readers cause without them this would have stayed in my notes forever. Love you two! Enjoy! 🤍✨

Azriel x reader x Eris

warnings: mature themes, sexual interactions.

————————————————————————

Lust. A strange, wicked thing. So inexplicable, yet when it strikes, no words are required. So empowering, but it leaves you panting and, most of the time, empty. What is a desire if not the most primal urge to feel? To belong. The ones who don't mingle at the top can find relief for their desires anywhere and with anyone. When you have power, everything changes. Yet it's not even really about the power. Power buys your desires and prevents those around you from gossiping. But it's the mask, a shield that one holds that doesn't allow slip-ups like this. Any form of emotion can be turned against you. Anyone who receives your emotions may become a target. You might leave the deal empty-handed, just as you entered it. Or maybe even with blood coating your fingertips.

You try not to think about things like that. In general, at least for a portion of the day, you try not to think because the mind is just as powerful as lust, if not more. It can consume you and break you quicker than you could ever imagine. And you can indeed manifest your worst nightmare to come true if you think long enough about it. And there are many, many bad thoughts in your head. Ones that could drive you to such extremes that you doubted that anyone would be able to bring you back.

"So, do you agree?", you blink quickly. You've slipped in your head again, for fuck's sake. Your eyes meet the man sitting in front of you. His eyes soften, and you instantly turn your face away from him. "We could talk about what's been on your mind, you know?", you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your predatory stare straight. "Sister...", he pleads again, and you make yet another mistake that day by turning your gaze back to your brother.

Thesan, bless him Mother, was nothing like the rest of your family. There was that warm light within him. He was the Dawn himself. Doubtfully, was there a soul who hated him. He was a true healer and passionate about it too. "Just tell me what you were fussing about, and let's end this, please," you bite back coldly. Regret can take a nibble out of your soul later on; now you need to be out of the palace as soon as possible, considering that you were already late.

"I want us to attend father's meetings together. We could use a bit more calmness in this house," Thesan says, and you can't help but snort. Hopefully, death will take the old fucker soon or he will finally step down, just like he's been promising. Yet your brother doesn't share that same amusement as you. You lean forward, bracing your hands on his wooden table, which your father had shipped for him as a birthday gift from the other side of Prythian. "Keep your nose out of my business. I'm perfectly capable of handling that old shit myself", "The old shit is our father", Thesan steps forward, and for the first time in a long time, you appear to be visibly frustrated. If you weren't in a time crunch, you might have entertained this even more. For your enjoyment.

"Do you back that statement? Do you have enough faith in it?", you bite back. The truth is that Thesan is the last person who should be on the receiving end of your anger. He had always loved you as a sister, and you loved him as a brother. You would set Dawn on fire, but he's the one who's keeping you at bay. He loves this place too much, and for that alone, you would never lift a hand against something he takes great pride in.

"I don't care whose blood runs through your veins; you are my family." Truth be told, you weren't the one and not the first to suspect that you weren't your father's child. That your mother had an affair, which unfortunately resulted in you, and that the male whose roof you lived under would gladly rip you to shreds in the blink of an eye. Not that he hadn't tried to do that. The difference now was that you had become someone to fear. That kept the dagger away from your heart at night, although it's not like you spent many nights in the palace anyway. "That makes you a lonely soldier," you say quietly as you turn away from your brother, exciting his study before his pleading eyes ripped through the thick curtains covering your heart.

You need to get out of here. Another minute between these suffocating walls and you might crumble. With a quick stop at your room, you pick up some of your weapons along with some other extremely essential things for tonight. Just a moment longer. Long way down the stairs, out through the back, and down the river bank, and you can winnow out of this place.

"Where do you think you're going?", the voice startles you slightly. You were running way too low on energy if a thing like that made you jumpy. You didn't jump, and you didn't flinch. You had people throwing daggers at you for entertainment purposes. Not a single hair rose from your skin at that time. Pull yourself together.

"I don't need a babysitter," you said bitterly, before continuing to make your way down the stairs. Atlas grips your hand firmly, making you stop in your tracks. For your father's general of the armies, he had because comfortable around you. "You are an heir; what image do you paint going out like this?" And here was the reason for his concern. He wanted you on that throne more than anything else. Your father had lost interest in battles and desired to gain land. His abilities shifted to breaking and manipulating those closest to him. That left Atlas bored in his stables. 

"Oh, my apologies. Do you want me to sit in front of a book all day? Put a pretty bow on me while you're at it," you say, yanking your hand away from him as you move to pull your hood over your head. "You're getting out of line again," again, that word should warn you. Maybe even scare you. If only you cared. You step closer to him, feeling his breath on your face; a shiver runs down his spine. Good. This means your work here hasn't gone unnoticed. "None of you own me, get that through you thick scull", "Get into your room, or I'm telling your father", the general warns you one last time but you only let out a bitter laugh. Before winnowing yourself out of the palace, something that your father had highly forbidden.

The ability to winnow is something you cherish more than anything. It's liberating. The feeling of darkness surrounding you is more than inviting. Soothing even. You are everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

You open the door to the cabin quickly, fidgeting with the key as it gets stuck in the lock for a moment. Your hands are shaky; you'll need to try and hide that tonight. The inside is even nastier than the last time you were here. The staircase to the second floor has finally fallen apart. You lock the doors behind you before moving to the back of the house and down the stairs that lead into the basement. It's pitch black here, but you move around the place as if you had night vision. Two steps to the right, your hand touches the corner of the wall. You trace the pattern of the chipped pain before pushing both of your hands against the wall, and the door opens. 

It's much warmer down here, so the fire must be on. The secret room is nothing like the outside building, the cabin itself is made to serve as a cover-up in case someone came across this place. While the back room is neatly arranged and freshly painted, made to accompany all the needs one could have. You stop for a moment, standing as still as a stone. A laugh echoes from the back room, and you feel a sense of yourself crawling from deep within you. "You're late, snowflake," the male's voice says as you round the corner, a pleased grin on your face. "Some of us have responsibilities, you know, fireling," the male snickers as he lifts the glass and cheers you before placing it to his lips. "I like your boots," you feel a hand inching up over the leather, gently squeezing your thigh. It's almost enough to melt some of the tension away from your shoulders. "Highly inspired by your leathers," you chirp back at the winged warrior before inching away from his touch to shrug off the jacket from around your shoulders.

"No extra company tonight?", you ask, turning back to the two of them, throwing your hair up into a messy bun. It's not like most nights there are more than the three of you here, but Eris likes to go big sometimes. God knows where he finds those sorry souls, but it adds a little something to the ambiance of the night. Not to mention that being the only girl here can get a bit boring.

"Us two won't do for you, vixen?" Your eyes fall onto the sight in front of you. One that would bring joy to sore eyes. The fire is peacefully cracking in the fireplace. Softly illuminating the room with its warmth. And then there are two males sprung out on top of a pile of blankets right in front of it. And not just any males, but two males who have quite a reputation in all of Prythian. Shirts unbuttoned as they lazily sipped their drinks. Plates of food covered the two nightstands that Eris had dragged from somewhere.

You just shake your head at the lordling, missing the confused look the two males share before you free fall into the sea of different furs and knitted goodness. Closing your eyes for a moment. Carefully pushing every bit of today to the back of your brain, forcing your thoughts to shrink. A breath hitches in the back of your throat as the sensation of a kiss being placed on your lower stomach fills your senses.

They trail up to your neck as they slowly ignite the longing need within you. You open your eyes just as you feel him breathing right against your neck. But even without a gift of vision, you know that it's Azriel. He shoots you a smile before closing the distance between the two of you. You can taste the brandy on his lips. It's way too slow for your liking, way too gentle, but it's something, and you're not the one to complain.

"Hi," the shadow singer whispers after he pulls away slightly. "Hey," you rasp back, moving your head to the side as he dives back to your neck. You know that it's his silent way of asking if you are okay. No doubt he had noticed the shift in your demeanor. Azriel was the newest addition to the group. Came here all drained and torn after being told off after persuading things with a female that he shouldn't have been pinning after. You found them arguing one night. You weren't so sure why Eris brought him here of all places, but he was here, and you weren't about to kick out an Illyrian warrior with the biggest wingspan. Azriel was the most affectionate of the bunch. Poor touch-deprived creature. He soaked up any form of loving touch you decided to give him. Ready to crawl if only that got him into a warm embrace. At times, it felt slightly suffocating. His clingy touches almost made you feel trapped. As if you were back at Dawn again.

You were about to pull the spymaster in for another kiss when you felt a tug on your ankle that dragged you from beneath the winged male. You let out a surprised squeal as Eris pulled you closer to him. Azriel grunted in annoyance as he watched you two. "I didn't think you were the jealous type," you cooed as you ran your hands over his exposed chest. Eris leaned in, nipping your lip teasingly, "I just want to say my hellos as well." You roll your eyes at Eris, pulling him closer to you by the hems of the shirt. Pulling him in so hard and so quickly that your teeth practically clicked together. Eris was hungry. Always so freaking hungry. It was more than true that autumn males fucked like they had a fire in their blood. His hands cupped your bum as he slithered them underneath your skirt. You took this as an opportunity to gently bite his bottom lip, earning a low moan from Eris in return.

You doubted that anyone would ever know you the way Eris knows you. There wasn't an inch of your body that hadn't been touched by him. He was your first back then. You two had known each other practically since you started walking. Both have seen many acts of court brutality. Both were scared until being scared was no longer an option. You turn your face to the side as your head fills up with rivers of memories.

"What is going on with you tonight?", the lordling pulls away from you, yet his hand doesn't let go of your body. There was no frustration directed toward you in his voice. Nothing that happened here was ever forceful. Letting yourself sink further into the soft surface beneath you, you throw an arm over your mouth, letting out a scream that's muffled by your skin. "Hand me something to drink," you growl, fingers gripping the roots of your hair. "Have you eaten dinner already?", Azriel asks, making Eris hum in consent. "More like, have you eaten at all today?", you throw the lordling a glare, but you know that no matter how much you stared, there wasn't even the slightest part of him that you could frighten.

"Open up," Azriel says quietly before lowering the fork containing food to your mouth. You take the bite even if all you want to do right now is throw a fit. But then again, you can't help the tiny moan that almost escapes your lips at the flavors that seep into your taste buds. You shuffle closer to the table. Azriel lets out a chuckle when you lean against his chest, opening your mouth and waiting for another bite. He doesn't hesitate. Quickly arranging yet another bite before carefully bringing it to your lips.

"Tell me that you brought something good to smoke", Eris is laying with his head hanging off the piles of blankets, "Inside pocket on the left side", the fireling stands up with a smirk on his face, "Only you keep smoke next to your heart", you can't help a smile as well, especially when Azriel's lips find your shoulder again, "Keep the things you love close am I right or am I right". 

Eris makes a quick rumble through the pocket before lighting up the joint between his fingers. He puffs out the smoke a couple of times before flopping down, his head now resting on Azriel's thigh. "I have a couple of letters for you," Eris says after blowing out a cloud of smoke right at your face, "And I swear I will split your head in two if you'll start talking business right now." "Bingo, it's your father who pissed you off," Lordling chirps before lifting the cigarette closer to Azliel's lips. Something about that makes your stomach feel fuzzy. The way spymaster's fingers curl around Eris's wrist, holding it securely in place. You lick your lips quickly, "Surprisingly, it wasn't my father today." You rasp out your eyes while still watching them. You don't even think they are listening now. Eris drags his finger over Azriel's bottom lip with his thumb. The moment Azriel is fully hooked, Eris pulls his hand away.

"So it's the general then," even though you can hear the fireling's voice, your focus is now on Azriel. The way his eyes look down on the male leaning against him. You move to take the fork out of the spymaster's hand, flipping it somewhere on the table. Inviting his fingers to dance over your skin instead. You brush your lips over him gently, and he leans into you, starting to get fed up with being declined. So you give in to letting his lips dance over yours. Azriel feels so close to you, yet in reality, you can't be further apart. His lips are so soft, it's almost surreal. You pull away slightly even if the spymaster is protesting against it, hand moving to the back of your head, holding it in place firmly as he claims the last bit of oxygen away from you. 

"Kiss," you murmur, still catching your breath, "Kiss each other." You move out of the way slightly. Truth be told, you had no clue if they had one-on-one meetings with one another. But you've never seen them kiss before, and suddenly you crave to see it. Your mind is finally starting to get murky enough to the point where the outside world is starting to melt into nothing. "What do you say, shadow singer?", Eris purrs, looking up at the male towering over him. For a split second, you had a doubting feeling that the shadow singer was going to say no, especially when he turned to the side.

But then Azriel turns back to the lordling, hands moving to undo Eris's shirt further down, before Azriel lifts the bottle of whiskey, pulling the cork out with his teeth and tilting the glass bottle to the side. You watch them with your mouth partly open. Shifting on your legs that are tucked under you for a little more friction as the heat pools between your legs. Eris hands you the joint quickly before his attention is back on the male, who is now hovering over him. Azriel's gaze is still on the fireling as he licks the alcohol off his skin. You manage to take a couple of drags from the cigarette, but even that seems less important than what's going on in front of you. You grip the blanket beneath you as Azriel stops before wrapping his hand around Eris's neck. Then their lips meet, and it's the sloppiest thing you've ever seen. Azriel is usually quick to give up dominance, but now he's fighting for it, and fighting hard. Eris tries to shift away from the shadow singer, but Azriel only pushes him down more.

Subconsciously, your hand slips between your legs. It almost feels like you shouldn't be there. Shouldn't watch them. But it's as if your eyes are glued to them. You can see them grinding against one another. Mother, you've seen them naked before. You had sex with them before. Why are you out here acting like a dumb teenager? You circle your fingers slowly, coating them in your wetness. A moan slips through your lips, and the two instantly stop. Azriel's eyes are on you, and abruptly you feel like a wild animal under the spotlight.

"Was that a moan I heard?", Eris grins, licking his puffy lips. You know that lying would be stupid; the placement of your hand alone is clear evidence that this is a turn-on for you. "I believe you've been asked a question, shorty. You've been awfully bad at answering today," Azriel says as he approaches you. But you just stare at him, unable to move. His eyes are on you the whole time until he's able to reach for your hand, carefully pulling it away from your body. Your fingers glisten in the dim light. Eris lets out a laugh, and Azriel just grins at you like he's found a fortune. "Wet, huh?" You nod your head carefully. Feeling the blush on your cheeks.

"Mother, if you could see yourself. I think I'm ready to die now that I've seen your smartass mouth shut like this", Eris watches you in amusement, and Azriel shoots him a warning look as if he's scared Eris might bring out your feisty side back. "Lay down, gorgeous. Your time to shine", you swallow thickly, there must have been something in that joint. Or maybe it was just the effect of seeing the two of them make out.

The moment Azriel hikes your skirt up, and his fingers slowly move to slip over your folds, you feel as if the world around you is spinning. You know you are close, and it's almost embarrassing because he just started touching you. Eris slithers closer to you. That self-assured smirk on his face is so annoying. "What got you so worked up, huh?" His warm hands push the top of your shirt down. The feeling of Eris's tongue swirling around your erected nipple pulls a deep moan out of you, and you instantly grab fistfuls of his red hair, pushing him even closer to you. Azriel leans in to kiss the inside of your thigh, nibbling at your skin here and there. Leaving you wishing you had more than two hands.

"Azriel...", you cry out softly, and the male is quick to shush you, "We've got you. Let yourself go, baby." With that, his mouth is lapping at your hot folds, suckling as if there's no tomorrow. You arch your back from the blankets, but Eris is quick to pin your hips back down. "Stay still, vixen, let him pull it out of you." The movement restriction only increases your sense of pleasure. The lulling voice in your ear makes another shiver run down your body. The fact that you have your hands pushing both of them closer to you sends you into overdrive. Azriel moves to circle his thumb over your bundle of nerves, and you're over. Oven and under as a wave of pleasure spreads through your body. Your toes curl, and a mess of random words fall from your lips.

It feels like you are finally able to take a breath. Like your system finally had a reset. The drumming heart in your chest is a clear reminder that you are alive. You open your eyes slowly, only to be met with two sets of eyes watching you. You smile at them, and Eris moves to kiss your shoulders before rolling over to grab another bottle.

"Should I...", the two of them instantly shake their heads, "Just reset your brain before you explode". Azriel emerges from the back room with a wet cloth, wiping down your still-glistening thighs. You offer him another smile, which he returns in a heartbeat. You let yourself stare at the ceiling for a moment before Azriel is dragging you up on his chest, pulling a blanket over your shoulders. A wave of tiredness washes over you, and you find yourself searching your mind for the last time you slept properly. You meet Eris's gaze for a second, his knowing eyes piercing through your chest. You turn away, allowing yourself to close your eyes. Real life doesn't exist here, and for that, you are thankful.

———————–

All acotar writing: @brekkershadowsinger r @cityofidek @baebeepeach @lucyysthings @hideing @urfavbrunettebish @historygeekqueen @marina468 @courtofjurdan

Series taglist: @peachycandy10

[walkswithmyfather]

‭‭Matthew 18:21-35 (ESV)‬‬. “Then Peter came up and said to him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times. “Therefore the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his servants. When he began to settle, one was brought to him who owed him ten thousand talents. And since he could not pay, his master ordered him to be sold, with his wife and children and all that he had, and payment to be made. So the servantfell on his knees, imploring him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the master of that servant released him and forgave him the debt. But when that same servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii, and seizing him, he began to choke him, saying, ‘Pay what you owe.’ So his fellow servant fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ He refused and went and put him in prison until he should pay the debt. When his fellow servants saw what had taken place, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their master all that had taken place. Then his master summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. And should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his master delivered him to the jailers,until he should pay all his debt. So also my heavenly Father will do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart.”

“The Impact of Forgiveness” by In Touch Ministries:

“God's grace and kindness to us should naturally flow to others.”

“When Peter asked Jesus about forgiveness, he probably thought he was being generous by asking if seven times was enough. In a place and time where grace and mercy were in short supply, the disciple likely felt himself incredibly charitable. So imagine his surprise when Jesus replied, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy-seven times” (Matt. 18:22).

Jesus then shared the parable of a slave who owed the king a great debt. The king felt compassion, released him, and forgave the debt. But later, the man found someone who owed him a smaller amount. Rather than extend a portion of the grace he’d received, the slave demanded payment and punished the other man until he could pay it all. Hearing of this wickedness, the king called back the slave who had shown no mercy to a fellow worker. Then the king withdrew his generous offer and handed the slave over to jailors to work off every single denarius he owed.

May an unmerciful mindset never be true of us. When we truly grasp the depth of what Jesus did on the cross (Colossians 2:14), we should be eager to grant and freely share that gift with others.

Forgiveness becomes a natural outpouring of the indwelling power of God within us, allowing us to forgive to the extreme—just as we are forgiven.”

[awideplace]

C.S. Lewis

Thinking about this quote which has always been one I've liked and a stark reminder of accountability of behavior whilst being a Christian and others knowing one is a professing Christian. However, I know also that, "there is no one good, no not one" (Psalm 53:1) and we are all, well, "bad"–the difference is a truly born again Christian is saved by the grace of Jesus Christ and we seek to live a fruitful life by that very same grace that saved us. Yes, we are held to a higher standard in that way; it's not just what we have been saved to (being His!) but what we have been saved from (sin + death). And many verses come to mind, cumulating in a portion of Ezekiel I read this morning in my reading through the Bible time which supports this:

but keep a good conscience so that in the thing in which you are slandered, those who revile your good behavior in Christ may be put to shame. For it is better, if God should will it so, that you suffer for doing what is right rather than for doing what is wrong. (1 Peter 3:16-17)

as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so also faith apart from works is dead. (James 2:26) by this we know that we have come to know Him, if we keep His commandments. The one who says, “I have come to know Him,” and does not keep His commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him; but whoever keeps His word, in him the love of God has truly been perfected. By this we know that we are in Him: the one who says he abides in Him ought himself to walk in the same manner as He walked. (1 John 2:3-6) How foolish! Can’t you see that faith without good deeds is useless? (James 2:20) He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. (John 15:2)

"But if the wicked man turns from all his sins which he has committed and observes all My statutes and practices justice and righteousness, he shall surely live; he shall not die. All his transgressions which he has committed will not be remembered against him; because of his righteousness which he has practiced, he will live. Do I have any pleasure in the death of the wicked,” declares the Lord GOD, “rather than that he should turn from his ways and live? But when a righteous man turns away from his righteousness, commits iniquity, and does according to all the abominations that a wicked man does, will he live? All his righteous deeds which he has done will not be remembered for his treachery which he has committed and his sin which he has committed; for them he will die. Yet you say, ‘The way of the Lord is not right.’ Hear now, O house of Israel! Is My way not right? Is it not your ways that are not right When a righteous man turns away from his righteousness, commits iniquity, and dies because of it, for his iniquity which he has committed he will die. Again, when a wicked man turns away from his wickedness which he has committed and practices justice and righteousness, he will save his life. Because he considered and turned away from all his transgressions which he had committed, he shall surely live; he shall not die. But the house of Israel says, ‘The way of the Lord is not right.’ Are My ways not right, O house of Israel? Is it not your ways that are not right? Therefore I will judge you, O house of Israel, each according to his conduct,” declares the Lord GOD. “Repent and turn away from all your transgressions, so that iniquity may not become a stumbling block to you. Cast away from you all your transgressions which you have committed, and make yourselves a new heart and a new spirit! For why will you die, O house of Israel? For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone who dies,” declares the Lord GOD. “Therefore, repent and live.” (Ezekiel 17:21-32)

[onetoomanyfandomfixations]

OM Demons & Their Broadway Duets

A.k.a the duet you two perform together that’s just a lil bit too on the nose

LUCIFER

You cannot tell me that he’s Not the same person as Hades

Mans has shit to do!!

But that doesn’t stop him from wanting you one bit

He knows he can seduce you, and that’s exactly what he will do

Also has that Stunningly deep voice thats just perfect for this roll

Enjoys making you squirm on stage with his words and voice

Probably circles around you whilst singing

10/10 very hot

Will def invite you to see him after the performance for some quality time

MAMMON

The exact kind of greedy, insecure loving he needs

He wants to sing more because “The Great Mammon deserves the spotlight”

So he sings Elphaba

Tbh, finds it really therapeutic to express his feelings for you so wholly

LOVES that its so intimate; he gets to hold you, with an undeniable excuse!

Gets so flustered during rehearsals

Only makes him love you more

Listens to it often, cause it makes him happy to think of you

He will deny this

LEVIATHAN

He would have died if it was a romance duet, c’mon guys

He was struggling getting on stage as is

So getting to pretend to play video games, right next to you in stage while talking about how he hates everyone else?

Perfect

Has the audio clip of you saying “is it really true, i’m your favourite person”

Listens to it daily

Actually has an Amazing voice, holy shit

It’s Your song and no one else can sing it with you

Probs get the matching pac-man tattoo from the original musical

SATAN

As said before, a hopeless romantic to the core

Thinks this entire musical is god tier

The only one to know and love the entire musical connected to your performance

You see it together “as research” before doing the scene together

Perfect on stage, as expected

Probs cups your face for a Significant portion of the song

Loves being to protector, instead of the persecutor; like he is so often made out to be

Will sing it to you quietly as you slow-dance in his room in the early hours of the morning

Wants it to be the first dance at your inevitable wedding

ASMODEUS

Guess who’s back on their asmo-is-baby bullshit

Mans relates to Audrey So Hard

So its only right he plays her part

You are his Seymor

He tries not to think about it, or else he’ll cry

Thinks its a really beautiful song

Don’t tell him the ending of Little Shop of Horrors, he’ll be devastated

ADORES being on stage, makes every minute of it

Kisses you as soon as the songs over, so deeply and passionately

The audience goes wild

Both of you are grinning wildly

BEELZELBUB

He’s more than happy to sing a song about loving you in front of as many people as you want

Honestly just happy to be spending time with you

Sings Zoe, because he just wants to reassure you that he loves you

Like Lucifer, has a beautifully deep voice

Constantly checking you’re not as insecure as Evan

Makes sure you know he loves you, even if you aren’t insecure in the slightest

A custom bed needs to be built for the two of you to sit on for the scene bc he’s so Large

Puts his heart into the line “I don’t want you to fix what I’d rather forget”, because he needs you to know that you aren’t a replacement for Lilith

He loves you, as you.

BELPHAGOR

Idk what bullying you had to do to get this but go you ig???

Hates JD with a passion

He reminds him too much of how he was during his time in the attic

But it’s almost like a redemption for him; he can do it again but this time he chooses you

He chooses you instead of the anger, the hurt

Voice is probs really raspy because he’s always sleeping

Didn’t do rehearsals, just wung it on opening night

Enforced naptime afterwards

DIAVOLO

Listen, this is Very Directed

He chose this song for a reason; he needs his people to know that loving you is not a political choice

He just loves you

Relates more to Alyssa, but sings Emma for impact

Probs doesn’t have time to be doing something like this??

Barbatos is On Him for the overdue paperwork

But this is Fun

And it’s with You

He loves preforming

Probs has a good vibrato too

Post show fancy dinner date 💕💕

BARBATOS

l i s t e n

Mans is perfect for Warner

Is more than happy to let you have the spotlight

Loves being able to say he loves you so plainly

Sometimes the song makes him think about the realities where you stayed in the human realm

It makes him grateful that you chose the Devildom

That you chose him

But he tries not to linger, because you both have a song to do

Master of honey tea before going on stage

Warm them vocal chords UP

Always praises you on how wonderful you were the second that mics are off

[slashingdisneypasta]

Dorothy Must Die!Lion x Scarecrow'sFemAssistant!Reader || Drabble

Plot: What it's like catching the fearsome Lion's attention, becoming his favourite, but also falling under the protection of his good friend.

Warnings: Threatening confession.

*picture there so y'all can see HOW HUGE THIS FUCKEN LION IS- and I assume this picture is from BEFORE he grew big and terrifying.

"And this... "Your boss, Scarecrow, sounds bored as he waives a gloved and straw-filled hand the animal's way, after introducing the Tin Man. "this is my old friend Lion, of course."

Obviously you knew who both of these men (Creatures??) were; you've been appointed the Scarecrow's research assistant for good reason afterall. You knew everything you could learn, and that certainly involved Oz history- in which your new boss, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly (Or not-so-cowardly, any longer) Lion were main figures.

But you let the Scarecrow tell you anyway. Because you're smart, and you know- a man like that? Needs the validation of sharing information others may not be aware of. And you would rather not get on the viscious scientists bad side boss or not.

You give both the Tin Man and the Lion a solemn, respectful nod. "Illuminating to make your acquaintances. I've heard all about your bravery in killing the Wicked Witch of the West by Queen Dorothy's side."

The Tin Man nods respectfully and sensibly back, and he's about to say something as his old metal mouth squeaks open- but the Lion, who's the same height as his two friends on all-fours, cuts in; approaching you and flashing a huge toothy smile down. "Oh, Scare old friend! Where have you been hiding this one?" The Tin Man promptly closes his mouth, a note or irritation in his metal squeal this time, you think. "She's pretty! You're pretty, young lady."

-immediately you go bug-eyed. What?? WHAT?? You're used to the Scarecrow's sensible, monotonous, borderline rude ways; this straight forward compliment is completely foreign to you. Though, you're sure you shouldn't be surprised by his boldness. The Lion is an animal, and animals don't play with subtlty, or pretending. And he is known for his courage these days, you suppose.

"U- um, I- "

"And she smells delicious."

"Wh- "

The Scarecrow cuts you off, with a sigh. "Leave her be, Lion. You're flustering her and I have no use for an emotional research assistant."

"I'm flustering her?" The Lion asks, looking at you with a stern, puzzled look on his face. With a roll of his giant muscled shoulders, he backs up a step. "My apologies."

"No- I- that's okay." You manage, then take a deep breath. "I... take no offence."

Another broad, leonine grin spreads across the big cats maw again. "Oh." Is there a wild, roguish lilt to his grin? Almost a smirk? "Good." He tells you bluntly in that deep voice sounding something like a roar, tail swishing behind him.

~

A few days later, it's the first time you've been allowed a break from thr Scarecrow's dark room's and the smell of death that fills them other then for meals. The Scarecrow wanted to be left alone, so he sent you to do some reading on cerebrospila fluids, and you chose to do so out in the courtyards. In the bright sun, surrounded by the emerald palaces beautiful gardens.

The Lion seemed to have had the same idea, covering a good portion of cobblestones with his large body sprawled lazily out under the warm ray's; dozing. And you keep sneaking glances at him like some silly girl- allowing your mind to skew from your duties and half admire the monster's muscles as well as half wonder to yourself what he meant by saying that you smell 'delicious'.

Does he want to eat you?? You've heard about his enormous, insatiable hunger, as well as how he enjoys his meals to be alive when he eats them. That doesn't sound particularly good, to you.

But... he also called you pretty. And that's throwing you off.

Before too long, you've only been sitting outside for no longer than 10 minutes, the Lion's deep echoing voice fills your eyes like molasses.

A crackly purr like growling sound escapes from deep in his chest as he stretches a little, muscles rippling under his skin, and his eyes gaze over at you half-lidded. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Very nice."

"Come over here, pretty assistant."

You don't have a choice, it's the Lion (The King of the Beasts), and besides if you did try to run he could pounce and catch you in no time at all- so you do the smart thing, and close your book and wander over. When the enormous beast just looks at you, his maw pulling wider in a lazy grin, before nodding with his giant head to a spot next to him, you carefully sit down on the cobblestones with him.

After a moment of the Lion just looking at you, either like you're a prime steak or a masterpiece (maybe both), you take a deep breath. "Are you going to eat me??"

"... I want to. I like you quite a bit; you're pretty. If I could I would keep you and nibble off you for as long as I could- days, weeks, months, even years if you were strong enough. And the Scarecrow would just keep replacing your limbs one by one. You could be my favourite." He allows, looking pleased and impressed by your bravery, a roguish and wild lilt to his gorey, sharp smirk. "... but you're my dear old friend's help, and I wouldn't like to put him on the spot like that."

"... oh."

"Scared, little kitten?"

"I- "

"You shouldn't be." He sighs, adjusting his massive paws in front of him and making himself more comfortable. "Trust me, I spent far too long being a coward and fortune favours the brave. I'm King of the Beasts, now."

... "You have a point." You nod, speaking quietly.

"I do."

"Well... I- I should go." You curse yourself for stuttering, for you're still scared, but the Lion looks reproachfully at you. "The Scarecrow will be expecting me- "

Before you can even move, the Lion leans over and drops his heavy head on your lap with a thud; his snout nuzzling into your hip bone. He gives a content yawn, sounding more like a gentle roar thick with sleepiness. "Not yet... "

That makes your eyes widen wide open and heat fill up your chest, and your neck, and your cheeks. "But- I thought- I thought you didn't wish inconvenience the Scarecrow??"

"He can wait for a little while, pretty Y/N. I need you, now."

[magadauthan]

Ep 16: Fifth Moon

Trying to keep up. Maybe I can keep the @trigun98watchparty to one day behind? Yeah, right. Fifth Moon ends the first arc of the story and next we transition to the not-fully-fleshed-out TriMax portion.

"The greater the tragedy, the greater the emotional effect." You're not wrong, Legato.

--Midvalley has sax appeal lolz

--Meryl's so sad, look at her. She misses him terrible. Milly's worried too, but she's just as worried about Meryl as she is about Vash.

--"Oops, did I say that out loud? No, I don't have a thing for him at all, ah ha ha ha ha"

--Oh Meryl, honey, please be careful.

--The non sequitur with the weird little messenger... can someone please explain it to me? Is there a cultural reference here that a Western audience wouldn't get? Or is this some odd interpretation of the Garden of Gethsemane for Vash?

--WW can't stay away.

--yes, it's bowdlerization... but seriously, how can you get a major city evacuated in like one day? Anyone who's lived through a natural disaster knows how that goes.

--EG Mine anticipates the pandemic! Plus, only Legato gets to be a drama queen.

--Nice lampshading of samurai tropes against spaghetti westerns.

--Rai-Dei brings a sword to a gunfight. Indiana Jones knows how to handle this situation.

--Meryl has crossed the line from worried sick into worried stupid, and Milly knows it. Someone is going to have to be the adult in the room, and it won't be Meryl.

--Western audiences wouldn't pick up on Meryl's shift in pronouns (neither would I except for that excellent discussion) but she's crying out like a child to go to Vash. She's wailing in despair, fighting her best friend because she is desperate to help the man she loves, and Milly has to pick her up and drag her away. Milly knows how to be a good big sister.

--Twisted Christian Science is a good name for a band.

--Vash nukes another city, and presumably all the Plants in it, so what the hell, Knives

--WW doesn't seem terribly sorry to be offing Rai-Dei, especially since he's become more fond of Vash than he'd let on. "this annoying guy, and he beat up on Vash, fuck him"

--Oh, Meryl. Meryl. Trying to hide the tears under bravado, only to be told that she's to stop looking for Vash immediately and she has no further excuse to try in the future. The only reason she has to follow him now is that she loves him - which I'm not sure she's admitted to herself at this point - and it would cost her everything.

--The saddest part of the ep is that the individual people Vash has helped, or whose lives have been touched by his actions, now have to ask themselves which Vash is the real one. Were the kind things he did for them just a ploy? Were they tricked? Is he evil, is he the devil, is he wicked, is he inhuman? (yes on that last one... sort of. depends what you mean by "human.") It may be only Meryl who continues to believe in him wholly at that point. (Even Milly is angry, because Meryl is crying over him, and Meryl doesn't cry.)

Fade to black.