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kingkat12 · 26 days ago

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the intimacy of shared silence (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, blood, pushy sexual behaviour, cuts, Roman's frontal lobe is not developed yet lol

summary: after Letha insisted you needed to know the truth about Roman, you decided you didn't want to hear it. will there be consequences, or will you be able to navigate the secrets on your own?

word count: 6,794

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9

The intimacy of shared silence.

The quiet wince as Roman's knife sliced a tear into my finger.

The hiss he let out as the other blade sunk into his own.

I wasn't sure why my hand was shaking, but there was no way to stop it-- I watched as the blood trailed down my hand and down into the vial I held close to my skin, careful not to waste a single drop. My gaze fell on Roman, whose eyes were already on me; his pupils were unusually large, but there was a softness about him which made me forget that he looked a little spaced out.

The intimacy of shared silence as we exchanged the vials.

The steady breath falling hot against my cheek as Roman clasped the necklace around my neck.

The realization that I was wearing his blood and that he was wearing mine.

So, as we sat beneath the willow tree by the river, listening to the rustling of the vines surrounding us, I tried to comprehend what it was that I had said yes to. When Roman proposed we do this, I never expected it to be a ceremony of sorts. That's the way it felt, after all-- and that was the feeling I was left with as he got up, going down to the dock right by, dipping the bloodied knives by the water.

My finger pulsated as I realized the stream of blood wasn't stopping. I hissed, feeling the sharp sting-- Had the cut maybe been too deep? Roman sat back down in front of me, now taking my bleeding hand into his. He gripped it a little too hard, with an unnatural look of transfixion in his eyes as I bled onto his fingers.

"Rome," I tried, my free hand anxiously rubbing my vial of his blood between my fingers. "It's getting everywhere, do you have anything to?--"

I didn't get to finish my sentence before Roman brought my bleeding finger to his mouth, pressing his tongue flat against the cut. I whimpered as he licked a stripe up along the tear, and I watched him close his eyes as he savoured the deep taste of iron.

How was I to comprehend what he was doing? I couldn't deny that I found this shocking imagery thrilling, sexy even, but I didn't know what to make of it. There was nothing I could do as my hand trembled against his lips, the sharp twinge of pain making me wince with every movement of his tongue. "Ouch, Roman--"

He seemed to snap out of it, and it didn't take long before he pulled away and dragged what looked like a handkerchief out of his pocket, gently wrapping it around my finger. Roman was suddenly handling me with such care, that I couldn't help but feel warm. Or was I possibly about to faint? He pressed his lips against the back of my hand before intertwining our fingers, his own blood barely having left a trace at all.

Something about the whole ordeal was almost too intense for me to handle-- I broke out into a soft, contained giggle, meeting his green eyes. "So?"

"So, what?" Roman asked, tilting his head to the side as he squeezed my fingers.

I shrugged; "Was that what you imagined it would be?" There was a genuine curiosity behind my query; when he had brought up his deepest, darkest wish (which I was glad didn't turn out to be murder), I hadn't expected it to be this. When Roman told me he had something he inherited from his grandfather that he wanted to put into use, I was innately intrigued.

It made my heart flutter to think he wanted to share what was practically a family heirloom with little old me, and that he had fantasized about wearing my blood around his neck. Underneath his shirts, he had said, his heart beating against the very component keeping me alive. However, when I tried to explain to Roman how devastatingly beautiful that was, he had shrugged it off-- "Nah, it would just be dope,"

Dope. I almost rolled my eyes at the memory.

Still, as Roman leaned forward to press a kiss to my lips, I could do nothing but sigh. "Yeah," he breathed, smiling against me. "It's so cool. And these things are, like, three hundred years old, too."

"What?" I felt my hands get clammy just from the thought. "Are you sure you want to give this to me, then? This is priceless!--"

"Stop it, it's yours," Roman squeezed my fingers once more, the bloodied handkerchief wrapping over his hands as well. It was at this moment that my eyes darted down, wondering whether the design was from the brand I thought it was--

I gasped; this was not a normal handkerchief. "Did I just wipe my blood on Gucci silk?!" Pulling my hands out of his, I studied the bloodied logo as Roman laughed. It dawned on me how much money the Godfrey family actually had-- if he was so careless about something so ridiculously pricey, the family fortune must've been much more than I had initially thought. Maybe I had known, but swept it under the rug for my own sanity? Because how many times had I not walked past the newspaper stands in the city and seen the face of his mother, Olivia Godfrey, on the front page followed by the words billion dollar company?

Roman huffed, shrugging; "Would you rather I let you bleed out? That would definitely taint the memory of my hideout spot,"

He was right-- I was reminded of where I was. Roman had told me he wanted to show me his favourite place after class today, the place he went to clear his head. I could argue this was the prettiest place in the whole of Hemlock Grove as we sat by a small, secluded lake beneath a willow tree. By the small dock leading out to the water, Roman and I had previously had a rock-skipping competition just before we sat down to fill the vials.

He had crushed me at that, of course.

Still, I hadn't expected him to find comfort in a place so ethereal. For some reason, I had expected something dark, like a little cave with little to no light surrounded by Satanist worship panels. That was certainly the image I had of him before we got together-- I used to imagine him bent before an altar dedicated to Satan, begging to be blessed with the opportunity for murder which he could get away with as involuntary manslaughter in the eyes of the law.

But not this. Certainly not this gorgeous scenery.

"Alright then," I breathed, watching as Roman rubbed his vial between his fingers. "Do you come here often?"

He shrugged, eyes transfixed on my blood. There was something eerie about the way he hadn't blinked in what seemed like a minute. "Nah," he mumbled, visibly absentminded. Still, he managed to slip out a crucial detail; "But I used to come here a lot when we weren't together yet and needed time to think."

"About...?"

Roman's green eyes darted at me with speed I didn't expect-- it almost made my breath hitch. There was a certain intensity about him; "You,"

"Well, duh,"

"Duh," he echoed, a smirk slipping past his cracks.

Roman's hair lay in soft waves over his forehead, and I kept thinking about how much I wanted to kiss his lips swollen. Feel his breath graze my cheek, the gentle push of his nose against mine as his tongue licked at mine-- "So you were just sitting here thinking about me? You're more of a loverboy than I thought,"

He snorted; "One more word from you about it and I'm throwing you into the water,"

"You wouldn't dare!--"

"I so would," Roman proceeded to laugh, reaching forward to take my hands into his. The touch sparked a fire in the tips of my fingers as I reveled in the feeling of his soft palms. I gave his hands a soft squeeze, and I could see him retreat a little from the present before he continued; "I don't know, I just... didn't want to let you down."

My brows drew together. "What?"

"Yeah, like-- fuck," Roman sighed, now chewing on the inside of his cheek as his smile faltered. "I sat here a lot trying to find the version of me that you might not run from. I spent most of my time hoping I had it in me to get myself together... for you."

It was a lot to take in, and some things were almost shocking to hear. Still, it was clear to me; "Rome, I think you've misunderstood..." Slowly pulling my hands out of his, I scooted forward on the grass. I watched the confusion in his eyes as I cupped his face, watching him keen against my touch. "I don't want a version of you, and I'm not planning on running any time soon. You can be yourself around me, do you know that?"

Roman put his hands on top of mine, sighing as his green eyes rounded out in a look of defeat. "Yeah, but I can get pretty... dark,"

"I know," I breathed, stroking my thumbs across his cheek. I was aware that the darker side of Roman had scared the crap out of me several times, but the stupid part of me was almost ready to let him kill me if he wanted to. "But if you get really dark, I have a built-in light in my phone that I can shine on you. Right in your face. You'll be hissing to get away, just you wait."

That seemed to do the trick-- I watched Roman crack up, laughing as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. My hands went up into his hair as I pressed a kiss to his temple, and I closed my eyes as I reveled in the moment. When our laughter died down, the only sounds left were the rustling of the leaves around us and the quiet ripples in the water brushing up against the shore nearby.

Roman's following words were muffled against my neck, but his teasing tone still shone through; "You're down bad for me, aren't ya?"

"... Shut up," I mumbled, rolling my eyes as I got ready to push him off.

Still, Roman only laughed, softly kissing my neck as he pulled me into his lap. "You're so crazy about me,"

"Stop it!--"

"Fucking carved our initials into a tree,"

"You said it was cute!-- Ah!" Suddenly, I felt a pain unlike anything I had ever felt before; it was sharp and mind-numbingly deep. It took a second or two before I realized Roman had sunk his teeth into my shoulder, and I could only whimper in pain as I instinctively grabbed a fistful of his hair. It lasted longer than I ever imagined something like this would, and I caught myself wondering when it would be over and when he'd be done, pleading with myself to keep it together. When Roman finally pulled away, I had to breathe deeply to collect myself-- I wasn't sure why tears were pressing up in my eyes, and I broke out into a nervous, quiet laugh as I rubbed my shoulder. "Ow..."

Roman flashed an apologetic smile; "Sorry," he breathed. "Got a little excited."

I kept glancing down at my shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the mark he certainly left. "What are you, a vampire or something?" I met his eyes, watching as my joke didn't land as well as I thought it would.

Roman inhaled sharply; "Not exactly,"

"... Right," My gaze fell on the vial of my blood hanging around his neck as a feeling of unease crept up my system. Was something about it setting him off?

I decided to force it out of my mind-- I was being ridiculous, right?

Still, Roman seemed genuinely sorry; "You can bite me back if you want to," he tried. "Really, really hard. Anywhere you want."

"... Anywhere?" As my evil plan formed in my mind, I knew exactly where he wouldn't want me to bite him. "Anywhere, Roman?"

His eyes widened as he realized what he had just said-- "No, I take that back! Not anywhere, no! Not there!"

It was impossible to hold back my fit of laughter. "Yes, there!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

As I laughed, Roman rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to my cheek; "Okay, I'm not letting you near my dick ever again, that's noted,"

"Yeah, right,"

"No, I'm serious!"

I snorted; "That won't last you twenty-four hours,"

"Fucking try me," His eyes sparkled with mischief-- this was going to be fun. ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I had somehow managed to get out of Roman's grip for long enough to study. It was hard to make time for it, let alone find the time for it, seeing as it was much more tempting to lay around doing nothing with my new boyfriend all day. Still, I had forced myself to go down to the public library, as school wasn't open on a Saturday.

After spending some time buying myself a coffee and finding a place to sit, I slumped down in one of the last free spots and got to work. It was tough to find a flow, and I hadn't studied properly in a while-- I had Roman to thank for that. He was a dangerously handsome walking distraction. It would probably be easier to get back to studying if he didn't give me such a hard time for running away from him, as he called it. Roman didn't realize it himself, but he was practically running around with a sign on his chest saying 'abandonment issues'.

My mind kept wandering back to Roman, wondering what he was doing, whether he was nuking my phone with messages or not, and it got so bad that I had to simply put my work away to take a breather. Why couldn't I focus? I rubbed my vial necklace between my fingers, closing my eyes; it was oddly comforting to know a piece of him would always be with me.

And just as I opened my eyes, ready to rip my mind out of the gutter, I spotted the one person I never thought I'd see at a public library-- or at any library, for that matter. "Peter!" I said, reaching out to grab his arm.

He had almost passed me without noticing me, and his wide, bewildered eyes softened when he saw who it was that had grabbed him. Peter was carrying an awful lot of books, but there was no struggle in the heavy load-- "Oh, it's you!" he said, smiling down at me. "You managed to get away from that boyfriend of yours for more than thirty minutes? Congratulations are in order!"

I snorted, motioning for him to sit down next to me. I was surprisingly happy to see Peter; "Yeah, I did! Can you believe it?"

He laughed-- "Nope. Actually, I can't. I haven't managed to hang out with him since you guys got together, so this is quite the shocker," Peter put all his books down on the table, and I must've counted about six or seven of them. He let out a loud sigh, spreading out; "What are you working on?"

"Some stupid English lit assignment," I turned my book to him, revealing my notes. "If I have to do one more essay about Charles Dickens, I'm going to explode. Seriously. Splatter everywhere with my flesh and blood staining the floor, and so forth."

"Gory," Peter prompted, nodding to himself.

Agreed-- "And you?"

Peter seemed reluctant to answer. His brown hair practically obscured his eyes, showing signs of needing a haircut soon, as he reached for the book closest to him. "The Ethical Dilemma of Feeling," he mumbled, scanning the title over and over.

He looked deep in thought as I reached for another one of his books; titles such as when you feel what you shouldn't, levels of treason and betrayal, and the art of forgiving struck me. "Dude, are you okay?" I asked, nudging him with a trying smile. I only knew Peter through Roman, but I wanted him to know he could confide in me nonetheless.

Still, he simply shrugged; "I might want to study philosophy in college... Just doing some light reading,"

Something told me he was lying his ass off in broad daylight. "Are you sure this is the stuff you should be reading then? Maybe try starting in, like, the ancient Greece section?--"

"Sure," Peter brushed it off, snapping out of his state of deep thinking. He placed his elbows on the table, turning back into the typical version of him as a broad smile formed across his lips. "Roman's jacket?"

Huh? "Roman's-- What?"

Peter's deep laugh echoed the hall, now pointing at my jacket. "It's Roman's, isn't it?"

Oh. I forgot I was wearing it today. "No, this is obviously my size," I joked, holding back an obnoxious smile. "What about it?"

"Nothing," Peter beamed right back at me, a knowing look in his eyes. "I just remember doing that with my girlfriend back in the day, before we broke up. I'm glad Roman's gotten his act together to experience that feeling as well."

"What feeling?"

"The warmth," Peter sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest as he nodded to himself. "It feels nice when your girl is wearing your clothes. And you can't deny he's a bit of an icicle. An arctic penguin, if you will."

It was impossible not to laugh-- "That's quite specific,"

"Sure, but it's true. An arctic penguin with a huge igloo he doesn't share with anyone,"

"Right," I hummed. "Then how come you're friends with a penguin?"

Peter lingered on the question, chewing the inside of his cheek as he thought long and hard. Finally, he answered; "Because he'd burn down the whole arctic for me if I ever needed him to. That's just who he is. He wouldn't even hesitate,"

It was impossible not to smile-- frankly, I was rather moved. "That's beautiful, actually,"

"Well... Before you make that conclusion, it might be smart to consider the possibility that he's simply be a repressed arsonist,"

I nearly choked on air, coughing through my outburst of laughter. Fucking hell-- men. "I wouldn't be so surprised," I said. "But he's sweet. The whole Letha ordeal feels worth it, and... I will have him returned to you soon, don't worry. You'll get your guy back."

Peter nodded; "I appreciate that, but... what Letha ordeal?"

Did he not know? My brows drew together as I grew uncomfortable with having to retell that story. It certainly didn't make me look like the hero. "Just... how Roman and I ended up together. You know this though, right?"

"Oh, that! Yeah, Letha told me about it,"

I let my confusion be visible on my face as I shifted in my seat, moving closer to the edge to straighten up. "You talk to Letha?"

Peter blinked twice, taking a second before he shrugged; "We... used to, before Roman declared war,"

"Oh," This was certainly news to me. "And what did she say?"

He let out a rather patronizing laugh, spreading out on his chair as he stared back at me with his brown eyes. His head tilted to the side, looking at me as though I was the dumbest little thing he had ever encountered. "Nothing crazy. She mostly just ranted at me, I didn't even get a word in,"

I wasn't sure why I was freezing up. "And what did she say about... me?"

Peter sighed, growing dismissive. "This was a long time ago. I don't remember,"

"Right, right..." I felt my heart drop as I sat back in my chair, defeated. I had an inkling that Peter was protecting my feelings. It didn't take long before he cleared his throat, getting up from his chair. "Don't think about it, okay?" he said, nudging my shoulder. "You've gotta let the bitches talk shit."

"Yeah..."

Peter sighed, sending me a soft smile as I finally looked up to meet his wonky smile. "I'm gonna go give all this crap back and look at the ancient greek philosophy instead. Thanks for the tip. And good luck with the Dickens shit."

I snorted, nodding as I realized I had to get back to work. "I'm gonna have the time of my life, thank you,"

Peter laughed, grunting slightly at the full weight of the books. "I see... And good luck with our favourite bloodsucker, tell him I said hi,"

I felt my heart drop, watching Peter walk away as I dwelled on his last words. Bloodsucker. I inhaled a sharp breath; putting my hand on my shoulder, it felt as though the bitemark Roman had given me was pulsating against my palm. Peter had used such a specific word, and I couldn't put my finger on why I was so shaken up about it. Then I remembered Roman sucking the blood off my finger--

No. This is nonsense.

I got about an hours load of work done before I decided I was done for the day, and I had developed a really bad headache. The clock had barely struck three, but it felt like the day was over already. I was so, so ready to go home and call Roman.

On my way out of the library, I had to pass a section called folklore-- and this was when I caught myself stopping in my tracks.

I stared at the book in front of me for a good minute. I couldn't look away.

The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir.

... I had no idea what came over me as I reached for it, reading the back page;

The ficticious entity of the vampire has scared generations of human kind. However, there is a much more damning creature that walks our earth which should be the real concern; the upir, the slavic prototype of the vampire branch, is born a cocoon of an age-old curse which is ready to take over the human body through the tragedy of suicide. Upirism lives beneath their skin, scratches at their teeth, and corrupts their minds through dark urges in constant attempts to drive them to the edge of genesis. Do you suspect you are a upir, or do you recognize a darkness in your loved ones?

My heart beat hard in my chest as I stopped reading, not wanting to hear any more of it. I wasn't sure why this book was making me so nervous, why my mind was spinning with thoughts I knew were absolutely ridiculous-- I reached out for my necklace, rubbing the vial of Roman's blood between my fingers as my thoughts raced.

I certainly had no idea what came over me as I went over to the counter nearby and signed the book to my name. No idea whatsoever as I stuffed it down my bag and hurried out of the library.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Later that day, I had my usual reoccuring stream of thoughts; this was nice. I could live like this forever.

Roman's hair was incredibly soft. I wondered whether he used a specific shampoo to make it so silky to the touch, or whether it was the typical thirteen-in-one shampoo all men seemed to be using these days. Maybe it was just a Roman thing-- maybe his hair was magically perfect all the time, and his skin was always perfect and smooth. I had no way to be sure as I caressed his cheek, feeling the weight of him on top of me as we laid in my bed around midnight.

I placed a kiss to the top of his head, my free hand gently raking through his silky locks of golden-brown hair. Roman didn't allow me to hold him like this very often in the start, but now, it was hard to get him off of me for even one second; when I managed to discreetly flip him over on me when he fell asleep, he let out a long, light sigh as his head laid against my chest.

I could hold him like this forever. Feel his breath against my body, be in awe of his long lashes; now that he was asleep, I could finally stare without getting a weird look-- Roman was so beautiful. The annoying part was just how aware he was of this.

So I held him. Watched him sleep in my arms as I stroked over his back in gentle motions, feeling the soft fabric of his sweater against the tips of my fingers. It was all worth it in moments like these, when Roman wrapped his arms tighter around me in his slumber-- he shifted, making himself comfortable with a short, airy grunt.

Why was that so cute? I could be sure I was whipped now that I found his little noises to be endearing. Even in moments where he'd snore for a few minutes, I listened in pure awe.

I liked to imagine that Roman enjoyed this part of our relationship-- the normalcy. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to bring some stability into his life, as I felt he didn't get much of it at home. I had yet to get more information about that out of him; he never talked about his family. Still, I was happy to lend him mine.

Roman shifted on top of me, a short groan escaping him as he stirred. He was awake-- "What time is it?" he breathed, voice groggy from his sleep.

I glanced at my phone on the nightstand; "Ten minutes past twelve,"

Roman groaned once more, burying his face in the crook of my neck. "Do you think I could stay over again?"

"Sure," I mumbled, twirling a strand of his hair around my finger. "My parents don't mind." They truly didn't-- I think they were a little relieved their daughter wasn't a complete social disaster with zero friends and no boyfriends in sight.

Roman hummed, pressing lazy kisses to my neck; "I was waiting all day for you to finish your English lit reading, and then I fall asleep when I finally get here," he mumbled, words muffled against my skin. "Definitely not what I had planned."

I could only laugh-- his kisses were almost ticklish. "And what was your plan, exactly? You seemed pretty dead when you came here,"

"Shut up," Roman propped himself up on his elbows with a soft grunt, getting a better look at me and my grin. His lashes were hanging heavy over his eyes, his face grazed by the remnants of a deep wish to sleep longer-- I wanted nothing more than for him to lay back down and sleep for as long as he wanted, so that I could hold him just a little more. Still, he blinked repeatedly in an attempt to wake up; "Want me to tell you my plan, though?"

I reached forward, stroking a strand of his hair away from his forehead. "Sure,"

"I thought..." Roman nudged my nose with his, making my smile widen. "We could ease into a little something."

"Ease into what?" Ironically, this was starting to make uneasy.

Roman rolled his eyes at my expression, pressing a tender kiss to my cheek. "Don't look so scared," he said, the raspiness of his sleepy voice sending a warm shiver down my spine. "I just want to be closer to you."

"Closer?" I mumbled, tugging softly at the tips of his hair as I felt his lips curve into a smile against my skin-- something told me my cluelessness was humouring him.

The soft push of Roman's lips left a trail of kisses up my jaw; "In every way possible," His voice lowered as he shifted, making more space for himself between my legs while he pressed himself further up against me. "I'm just a little in the dark about where to start with you."

I wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. To keep my mind occupied from spinning, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on how nice it was to be kissed this way-- there was no doubt in my mind that Roman was crazy about me, with the way he was handling me with care. Right now, I only felt pampered, loved, and still slightly worried about what he had meant.

"Just don't want to scare you away," he continued, his hot breath ghosting over my skin. "Knowing you haven't done this before..."

"Done what?--"

Oh.

My lips formed an 'o' as it started to dawn on me. Roman's soft laugh brought me back to earth; "Catching up?"

"Sure am," I mumbled, letting my hands rest at his shoulders. I hoped they weren't too clammy as my heart quickened. "I don't know, Rome... Like, now? You want to do this now? Weren't you asleep just a second ago?"

With a short sigh, he shifted, his green eyes shimmering with amusement. Roman leaned in, angling his face so that our noses weren't bumping; "We keep putting it off," he whispered, brushing his mouth against mine, gently pulling my bottom lip with his own. "I don't see why we should wait. I want to be with you like that." He repeated his action, and I let my breath hitch as my mouth fell open-- the soft push of Roman's lips against mine made my heart thud in my chest, feeling the tips of my fingers burn as I pulled him closer, kissed him deeper.

It was as though there was an innate ache in my body for Roman which had been with me since the first time he had smiled at me in that one class. Since the first time I cried about him, since the first time I kissed him, and since the first time I ever properly laid eyes on him. It was impossible to fight, impossible to ignore-- I was almost clumsy with the way I held onto his hair, wanting him closer, closer, closer.

I was sure he felt it too; it felt as though he wanted to devour me whole. If he truly wanted to, I was convinced I'd let him. Still, as Roman's impatient kisses pressed against my lips, showing the hunger he had been suppressing, I couldn't help but feel the small droplets of uncertainty dripping down my forehead in a continuous torturous cycle.

Maybe I had been too forward, maybe I had somehow signalized that I wanted to do it right now, I wasn't sure-- but my anxiety was making me feel suffocated. "Wait-- Wait," I breathed, unsure why I was suddenly so dizzy.

Roman hummed, pulling away just slightly; I could feel the small string of saliva still connecting our lips as his hungry, green eyes found mine. "What?"

"We can't-- Not now," My attempt to steady my breathing failed, and I kept scouring his face for any traces of disappointment. "My parents are next door, I--"

"So?" I could feel Roman's heart beating against mine despite his calm composure. "It's fine. I've got you. Do you not trust me?"

Oh no. "That's not what I'm saying," I tried, reaching forward to touch his face as he propped himself up on his elbows once more, pulling away to get a proper look at me as he scanned me repeatedly for answers. "Roman, I'm trying to tell you that I'm nervous."

He remained still, but his brows drew together-- he looked cross with me, this way. "What for?" he said. "What is there to be nervous about? It's just me."

Sure, Roman had a point, but he was saying it in a way which was probably harsher than intended. "I know that," I traced my thumbs over his brows, hoping they'd soften. "I just don't want to jump into it too fast..."

"Too fast?" he echoed. "We've been dating for, like, a month and a half all together. How is that fast?"

I had to take a deep breath-- I hated the feeling this was giving me, the unease that settled in my chest. "Look, you were sound asleep five minutes ago, and now you're telling me you want to have sex. Can I breathe for a second?"

"Breathe away," Roman grumbled. "Need an oxygen tank? I'll get one for you. But if you have an inhaler laying around, that would be swell."

I could only roll my eyes, pressing myself as far back into my mattress as possible-- having him hovering above me right now wasn't the most pleasant thing, and I found myself wanting to crawl away. "I just feel that we should talk about it before we really get into it..."

Roman started to look fed up; "What is there to talk about?"

"I don't know! Like, uh..." I dug my finger into his shoulder, poking him. "Condoms!"

"Condoms?"

"Yes, condoms!"

"What about them?" he said, grimacing. "You scared of latex or something?"

"No!" This was getting frustrating-- "You'll wear one, right?"

Roman shrugged; "If you're not on birth control, sure,"

I was taken aback by his compliance. I had expected him to be one of those guys to refuse it. "Okay... That's a start," It took a few seconds before I felt myself relaxing, letting my fingers trail down his shoulders in a long, slow motion. "But I don't want to do it with my parents in the house... It feels weird."

Something about Roman softened, and he hummed as he pressed his lips gently against my cheek. "They wouldn't hear a thing," he purred, wrapping his arms around me as his kisses trailed down my jaw, his hot breath soon fanning over my neck. My jaw clenched as I closed my eyes, unsure whether to give into the temptation and the warmth creeping up my veins as Roman kissed and caressed me-- still, my hesitation made my body rigid and hard like a glass doll, on the verge of breaking into a million tiny pieces. Why wasn't he hearing me?

"I just want to feel you," Roman whispered, his wet lips grazing my collarbones as my breath hitched. "Wanna make you feel good, hear you moan beneath me... You have no idea how much I want you, hm?"

My cheeks burned by the time I felt his tongue against my skin, swiping along my collarbone, making me shiver-- it broke me to hear him say he wanted me. Broke me in the most simple way. I could feel the gears in my brain falling apart, feel my body resist my defensive reflexes. I had to fight against every screaming nerve in my system to place a trembling hand on Roman's shoulder; "Rome--"

It was almost as though he didn't care, drunk on being so close to the edge of my compliance. "It's just me," he whispered, placing a particularly wet kiss against my throat. "Nothing to be scared of. Don't you want me, baby? Don't you want to make me feel good?" I felt Roman's fingers peeking up the hem of my shirt, and my breath caught in my chest as he pushed the fabric further up my body, his greedy hands touching me in a more incessant way than ever before.

I do, I do, I do-- but on these terms? It was damn near impossible to think clearly, especially as Roman forced a knee between my thighs, pressing himself against my center. I was sure I whimpered, melted a little, possibly even bucked my hips up along the added pressure, and he didn't waste any time brushing his mouth against my parted lips.

And just as Roman was about to properly kiss me, his hands almost at the clasp of my bra, his thigh pressing further up against the apex of my own, I found the strength to squeak out a tiny stop.

Stop.

It echoed. Over and over.

It was as though Roman had stopped breathing-- I couldn't feel his warm breath against my cheek anymore. My eyes were pressed shut, my body shivering as I exhaled. It was only now that I heard my heart pounding through the silence. "I want to," I whispered. "Just not now. Not now, not-- not now."

It was only when the silence persued that I dared to slowly pry my eyes open. To my surprise, I hadn't heard or noticed Roman getting off of me. He had sat up, letting my legs crease at his thighs as a reserved and quiet demeanour fell upon him. It was rather unnerving to see him like this, not blinking, simply observing as he stayed mute. No snarky comment, nothing.

I took it as my queue to engage. I had to ask the question that had been bothering me. Still, I didn't expect my voice to be so frail; "Did you... come over today only for this?"

Roman didn't react, raising his hand to run his fingers through his hair. "I came over to see you," he mumbled. "Is that a crime?"

"You said you planned to ease me into this,"

"I say a lot of things,"

I sighed; "Can't you just be honest?" Propping myself up on my elbows, I hoped he'd see I was being sincere. "I'm simply trying to understand you."

Roman remained stoic, his green eyes dulling as his head tilted a little. It was starting to turn into a patronizing glare. "Okay, you want me to be frank? I'll give you honest," He leaned forward, his knuckles planted into my mattress. "I wanna fuck you. Rather nicely, by my standards. Over and over, until you get so cockdrunk you can't speak. But what I can't understand is that you don't want me that way. I literally wear your blood around my neck, but you don't even want to?--" He stopped. A second passed. "... Have I maybe misunderstood?"

Roman's gaze softened into one of confusion; "Do you not feel that pull? That feeling of... wanting me?"

"Of course I do!" I squeaked, sitting up. This was making me panic. "Of course-- Roman, of course!"

He scoffed, retreating in every sense of the word. "Sure,"

Roman's hair fell over his eyes as he lowered his head, and I could see the hints of a small smile peaking through. His next words came out with a low laugh; "I guess I won," he mumbled. "I lasted those twenty-four hours."

I was reminded of our little bet by the water, and I stared at Roman with a dumbfounded expression as he got off the bed. I couldn't believe that he was throwing a bit of a hissy fit because he didn't get laid. Still, I hated that he thought I didn't want him-- "Rome, come on!" I scooted to the edge of the bed. "Where are you going? Don't tell me you're leaving?"

I felt hopeless as Roman grabbed his phone, now glancing around my room to see whether he had forgotten something else. "I'm not sleepy anymore, I'm fit to drive," he mumbled, reaching for his jacket which I had worn earlier today to the library. "Don't stay up too late--"

"Roman!" I reached forward, clasping my fingers around his wrists. "Stop it! I don't want you to go!"

He finally turned to me with a cold look in his eyes, the moonlight dipping into the colour of his hair. "I'll call you,"

His words were chilling-- "Stop it," I pleaded, my grip around him tightening. "Stay. Please stay."

Roman raised his hand to kiss the back of mine before he pried me off him. He stepped towards my window, opening it. "Goodnight,"

I didn't make it to the window in time to stop him, and I watched him ascend my roof with a choking feeling in my chest. I groaned when he was out of sight, doing everything in my power not to kick the chair nearby. I wanted to sink into the ground as I buried my head in my hands, slumping down against the wall.

What on earth had just happened? Why did Roman shut down on me like that? I had been dead sure we were past this...

I wanted to sit like this all night, wallow in sadness and confusion. Maybe if I stayed by my window, Roman would come back up and tap against it, asking to be let back in? He'd apologize, sweep me up on my feet, and tuck me back into bed as he laid down next to me. He'd stroke my hair, kiss my cheek, let me cry into his shoulder as I slowly drifted off into sleep--

I couldn't understand anything. It was hard to process. Did I do something wrong?

So I stayed on the floor until my back hurt, until my eyelids threatened to close shut and carry me to slumber. Fuck it, I didn't have the energy to get back to bed. So as I laid down on the hard wood, I shoved away my library bag to make space for my body-- it was only when I heard the thud of one of the books falling out of it, that I was snapped out of my drowsiness.

The blood in my necklace felt boiling hot. My eyes focused on the title, adjusting to the dark;

The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir.

... I was suddenly not tired at all.

(a/n: thank you so so much for reading if you've come this far, and thank you for all the love and engagement!!<333 check out PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, and PART 9 if you haven't yet, and AGHHH MWAH MANY THANKS AND MUCH LOVE!!<3)

tagging those that seemed interested!!<333:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium @pecxiebu

@mil88691 @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #oneshot #bill skarsgard #angst #fanfic #highschool!au #hemlock grove fanfiction #peter is wilding a little isn't he #and wtf is roman on omg what am i doing to these characters #ANYWAYYYYYY

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scuttlingcrab · 8 months ago

Note

What if Raphael sent Tav an embarrassing gift? Something he'd definitely find pleasure in, but Tav would be mortified to receive? xD

LOL. Thank you for sending me this one. I died writing this, had me grinning from beginning to end. x

Summary: Raphael gives Tav, his very favourite client, a generous gift after she signs his contract.

Notes: Some suggestive imagery from the devil we know and love.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

The Devil's Muse

(Image via keylana-dragon)

“I beg your indulgence. A brief word, before you depart.”

Raphael spoke in a low rumble, intending his voice for Tav but unperturbed whether or not the other companions overheard him.

Tav hesitated, her ears perking up as his voice shattered the silence. She hovered near the door of his suite in Sharess’ Caress, halfway through the threshold as she attempted to make her leave. Shadowheart, Astarion, and Karlach waited on the landing outside, the companions lingering like flies on a rotten corpse.

Raphael casually leaned against the desk, resting his hands on the smooth, rich rosewood. He lightly tapped his fingers on the surface, warming up his digits before the second performance began.

The little mouse was always the last to leave his company, lagging behind her companions. It was only for a moment, but that was long enough for Raphael to take note, keeping a detailed record after each encounter.

She tried to play coy, never giving Raphael the satisfaction of losing himself in those dark delectable eyes. He could often feel Tav’s gaze on him as soon as he turned his back to her, those eyes burning through his very body and spirit.

Despite her attempts of acting aloof, with her crossed arms and narrowed lips, she remained at the forefront of their conversations. Raphael would catch her leaning towards him, edging closer as he spoke his rhymes of wisdom and warning. Tav in turn spoke softly when she addressed Raphael, her words blunt yet voice cracking with emotion.

That confounded mortal fanned the flames of his desires the more detached she presented herself. She was becoming a nuisance; occupying every waking thought and following him freely into every dream. Raphael had an insatiable longing for carnality, his chest overflowing with passion. He had been reduced to his primal instincts, letting his lust for that woman lead his motivations instead of his ambitions for the Crown. He would need to be more cautious.

“There is one thing I wish to show you… now that the contract has been signed.”

Tav raised an eyebrow, biting her bottom lip as she watched Raphael, waiting for him to continue.

“What in the flaming Hells does he want now?” Karlach shouted, shoving her obnoxious face through the doorway. “C’mon soldier, we need to leave.”

Karlach placed a hand on Tav’s arm, trying to lure her outside. Tav remained cemented, grabbing Karlach’s hand in return.

“Hold on a minute.” Tav responded, “let’s hear what he has to say.”

“It would be in your best interest, little mouse, if it was just the two of us.” An edge of warning in Raphael’s tone.

“Oh, go on then, devil.” Karlach sneered.

“Come now, Karlach, no need to be unpleasant. Can we not speak with civility?”

Tav regarded the situation with curiosity, her intense stare shifting around the room. Raphael could just about hear the rusted cogs turning inside of that tadpoled infested brain of hers.

Tav nodded, walking to the centre of the suite.

“Alright, Raphael. I’m not interested in any more secrets. Whatever you have to say or show can be done in front of everyone.”

Karlach stomped her way into the room, standing close behind Tav. The Tiefling's infernal engine roared, the flames in her chest growing more chaotic as she shot Raphael a scathing glance. Shadowheart and Astarion shared a few hushed words as they followed Karlach, shuffling reluctantly back inside the Devil’s Den.

“So be it, if you insist.”

Raphael snapped his fingers and a large painting sizzled into view, suspended above them. The entire party gasped in unison.

“A gift for my new treasured client.”

The painting showcased Tav reclining on a leather chaise lounge against a dark grey backdrop, her body bending with pleasure. She was draped in a red robe, the sleeves falling loosely off her slender shoulders, stopping just above the hill of her breasts. Her eyes were closed and her lips wore a savoury smile, as if she was on the cusp of release. Her dark wavy hair poured off the edge of the furniture like a waterfall.

Raphael beamed, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he respected the painting in the very presence of his muse. He had painted Tav’s likeness from memory, hoping he would be able to do her justice by capturing her unique beauty on the canvas.

Whether Tav signed Raphael’s contract that afternoon was debatable, he would’ve delivered his gift to the little mouse regardless of the outcome.

He had worked diligently behind the scenes since their last rendezvous in the Shadow-Cursed Lands; sketching mockups, painting, re-painting, one failed canvas after another, until he successfully recreated the image that plagued his mind for what felt like an eternity.

Raphael knew it would never be perfect, he still found flaws as he stared at the painting; minor errors in the brushstrokes, a few shadows that could’ve perhaps been blended better. He only hoped it added to the charm and the little mouse would not notice.

Raphael returned his attention to his guests, immediately observing Tav. She was frozen in place, her eyes wide and fixed on the painting, as if she was hypnotised by it. There was something different to her face now, something Raphael always yearned to see from the mortal. A faint gleam in those eyes, a playful smile slowly crawling up her delicate lips the more she stared at the artwork. Had he stirred something in the little mouse? At long last?

“Perhaps, at a later time, we can admire it together, once the Crown is in my possession, yes? Until then, it will remain in my House of Hope. For safekeeping, naturally.”

“This has got to be a fucking joke, right?” Karlach shouted, getting in between Tav and Raphael. “I told you he was a creep!”

“I don’t know, it does capture her essence... in a drab, lifeless kind of way.” Shadowheart murmured, her cheeks blushing as she continued to gape at the painting.

“And here I was thinking only his poetry was questionable.” Astarion whispered, giggling like an ill-behaved schoolboy.

“I often forget how ignorant you mortals are. A pity.”

Raphael straightened his posture and kept his chin held high. He tightly clasped his hands behind his back, imagining what it would feel like to have his fingers around the companions' brittle necks, ridding them of their pitiful lives. Those foolish twits would feel his wrath in due time. Perhaps one, or two, would perish when they fought the Elder Brain. Yes, that would be most preferable.

Raphael instead approached Tav, ignoring the companions and their onslaught of criticisms. He turned to face the painting, standing beside her. Raphael could see Tav out of the corner of his eye, feeling the warmth radiating off her body as she continued to stare at the artwork.

“I never took you for a painter, Raphael.”

“I occasionally dabble in mortal amusements from time to time, when I’m feeling inclined.”

“And do you always give your clients such risqué gifts? These types of things are open to suggestions.”

“It’s an innocent gift, I assure you. But now I am most curious, what does this painting tell you?”

Raphael crossed his arms, his fingers trembling as he raised a hand to his chin, anticipating her answer.

“A promise of what could be? Maybe what more could be offered?”

“Very astute. I have been known to provide exceptional entertainment when certain deals have been met.”

Raphael tilted his head, taking an opportunity to lean towards Tav. It was a subtle gesture, but their bodies were now touching, linked together. With his arms still crossed, he removed an index finger from his lower extremity, lightly caressing Tav’s exposed forearm. The little mouse did not flinch at his touch but he saw her smile grow.

“One note though.” Tav whispered.

“Go on?”

“I think my jawline is a bit off, don’t you think?”

Raphael bit his tongue, unsure whether he wanted to incinerate the little mouse or take her by the neck and violently kiss her.

Raphael had Tav's signature but he’d only praise the occasion when that little mouse bestowed the Crown to him. Her contract didn’t amount to a hill of beans when compared to his grander schemes. Raphael would not rest until he had succeeded in his plight to unite the Nine Hells, until he faced Mephistopheles, and claimed his birthright.

Raphael had once made a promise to himself not to allow any distractions. It was too perilous, opening him up to failure and eternal punishment. But that damned little mouse found a way through his defences, crept through the cracks of what he thought was a sturdy foundation. The woman had caught Raphael in her snare. Until he held her in his arms, until she was his, she would continue to plague his dreams. Perhaps along the road to ascension, he would add Tav’s heart to his list of conquests.

“I will make sure to keep that in mind for my next piece.” Raphael noted, turning to face the rest of the party.

The silence was heavy, the awkwardness weighing on the companions. Raphael stared at each of them until they looked away, unable to handle the intense heat of his gaze without melting.

“You may take your leave. The room is getting far too crowded for my tastes.” Raphael waved the party off, walking back to his desk. He left the painting floating above him.

“Gods, I thought he’d never ask. Fucking prick.” Karlach whispered, practically sprinting out the room.

“Tav, you owe me a damned drink.” Astarion groaned.

Shadowheart had no words, but she curiously eyed the painting a final time before trailing after Astarion.

“Don’t disappoint me, little mouse. The fate of the world, our very futures, hang over your shoulders.”

Tav remained in the room, staring amorously into Raphael’s eyes. He held his breath, relishing the seconds he was allowed to devour her magnificence.

“Thank you." Tav mouthed, and quickly made her exit.

Raphael released a sigh, resting a hand on his desk to keep himself from combusting. That damned woman.

The curtain had fallen on this act, but it was not yet the finale. Change was brewing, mists of uncertainty clouding Raphael’s judgement, and for once, he was not fearful of what was to come.

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mooneggtarts · 6 months ago

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"I’m the perfect lump of meat That has imperfectly survived So I’m sure it’s not a sad event that I’m killed I can only live my life hoping so Hey, it’s weird to reach out to me This evil, this evil, I torment this evil with care This evil, this evil, I embrace this evil tightly The only thing I can believe in is pain, right? Hey, to myself on that day I certainly screamed"

-Akuou (King of evil) by SOOOO

I was PLANNING to make like, a fan MV of this song with Al. But in case that I changed my mind, I'll just leave this one here. I see "Akuou" a lot to Al's state of mind (at least to me) that I found the urge to draw my 2 comfort things into one.

SOOOO has been my upmost comfort/fav producer for years and I'm happy that they posted a new song after 3 years!!

Though gonna warn you people it has flashing imagery, intense distorting sounds, and ofc pretty dark lyrics. Also that there will be a scream almost at the end so I dont recommend playing this full volume lol. In case someone wants to check it out.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel alastor #I love drawing angst of my comfort characters!!!!#with the amount of dark and sad things I have with Al I should make myself a CEO of Alastor angst #or at least an enthusiast #perhaps an enthusiast seem more fitting huaha

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toomanyideasandfandoms · 6 months ago

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Sometimes Silence Is The Best Medicine

Jiyan x reader

Notes: I really needed some comfort from my husband, so I'm throwing this out there for others.

Reader based of of oc (but given name inserts), gn reader, they/them used, afab anatomy possibly mentioned.

Also small warning about some graphic imagery and also not proofread lol

It's ringing, your head is ringing. It's not some stark white noise, it doesn't even sound like anything. It's like there's an absence of noise, yet it's every noise as well. You can't block it out either, it heightens when you hear anything. It just won't stop. You wanted to scream. Why won't it stop-

"Are you alright [Y/n]?" A sudden voice calls out, startling you out of your internal screaming. Gentle hands grasp onto your hands, now realizing they're gripping onto your hair tightly, coaxing them to release the [h/c] locks. The person doesn't let go, instead they keep a firm grip on your skin in comfort. "Breathe."

"I am." You reply, acknowledging the slow breathes you were taking. The realization that tears were running down struck you, feeling the droplets land onto your joined hands. Taking a moment to recollect yourself, you lift your head a bit to look at the person before you. Though you didn't see their face, instead you immediately recognized them by the clothes. "I'm fine, Jiyan."

"Forgive me, but I don't believe you." He says, giving you hands a gentle squeeze. It's easy for him to notice how you aren't meeting his eyes or how tense your posture was. "What happened?"

"Nothing did." You sighed, turning your head away to look on at the main city of Jinzhou. The gentle breeze picked up your clothing a bit, letting it flow like petals. "Just...my own head being my biggest enemy."

"I see." He pauses, unsure how to respond. "Would it be better to talk about it?"

"Not really?" You shrug your shoulders, ignoring the almost itching sensation the fabric that clung to your form gave. "It's hard to explain."

"Try it. Explain to me."

"It's...It's like everything is too much." You begin to say, focusing on the warmth his hands gave. "Every sound is deafening, almost every touch is itchy, and no matter where I look my eyes burn because it's too bright. It makes me want to scream out loud until my voice is gone and scratch my skin off."

"That's..."

"I know, it's intense." You chuckle as you can practically see his expression from the way his voice sounded. "But it happens, it's just something I have to get over until the next time."

"Does having someone with you help?"

"Sometimes? Other times no." You squeeze his hands, desiring more warmth to seep into your palms. "Though luckily this is one of those times."

"I'm glad." He smiles, reciprocating your grasp. You hear a small shuffle before you feel his shoulder bump into your, causing you to tense a bit. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

He releases one hand, using the now free limb to bring your head onto him. "Is this okay?"

"...kind of." You mutter, feeling your cheeks turning a bit red at the contact. A small thought crossed your mind, but you weren't too sure if you wanted to go through with it.

"I remember you saying compressions usually helped with those who experience similar things. Would that also work for you?" He asks softly, studying your body language to make sure he wasn't overstepping.

"I'm not sure."

"Are you willing to try?"

"...yes."

Without another word he guides you to sit in front of him, the grass brushing against your skin irritatingly. You grunt in annoyance, before he pushes you against him and wraps his arms around you. You stiffen in his hold, hearing him whisper into your ear to relax and breathe. You do so and as the breeze tickled your cheeks, you began to smell the clear waters that were nearby.

"Would you be alright with talking more? Or is being silent better?" He asked gently, keeping a comfortable firm grip on your form.

"I wanna enjoy the view of the city a bit." You whisper, the desire to scream slowly leaving you. You barely could even register the fact that the sounds of the world around were quietening.

So you both sat there, taking in the shared warmth as they watched the sun begin the set down past the city.

#wuwa #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #wuwa jiyan #jiyan x reader #jiyan x oc #this calmed my mind actually #god what would i give to be able to be in his arms #he gives some major comforter vibes

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starryknight-tarot · 1 year ago

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𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓬𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓱 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾

pile 1 -- > pile 2 pile 3 -- > pile 4

my masterlist<3 . paid readings Hello beautiful souls✨Today we will be looking what your celebrity crush would think of you if you met. This might be a little shorter cause it's just for the kicks and giggles but if you meet your celeb crush you will know how they think about you lol. Remember to meditate, take a deep breath and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. My readings are meant for everyone, no matter what sexuality or identity you are. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Pile 1 Cards: The Magician rx, Page of Wands, The Hierophant, Nine of Cups, Four of Swords, Four of Pentacles, The Star, Page of Cups Back of the Deck: Knight of Cups

Pile 1, I feel like your celebrity would really appreciate you. You may have liked this person for a really long time, like before they really blew up or even since the very beginning of their career. I feel like your celebrity crush acknowledges that they won't have anything of what they have now without people like you so if you were to meet, they would be really kind to you, I even just saw the imagery of someone kissing someone's hand so they may be very polite and like prince like(?). It's really cute it got me blushing lol. I feel like this meeting would be like a dream come true for you (obviously) but I feel like they may also be pretty excited to meet you and they would just find you pretty cute. I am getting that your celebrity crush would actually really like you, I feel like you would have a really nice conversation. I am being brought to a conversation I saw between the NCT member Ten and a fan that he was talking to over video call and I remember thinking to myself while watching their conversation, "Wow they are talking to each other like they are good friends or they already knew each other well.". I feel like you could have this kind of connection with your celebrity crush. Although, I do feel like your celebrity crush won't be able to look past the fan/celebrity aspect of your relationship. They know that there is a sort of power imbalance in your relationship or it may be that you will always just see them as this celebrity that is so cool and talented, and you may struggle to see the more human parts of them. You may also be a lot younger than them and they may see you in a more youthful way. For some of you, they want you to spend a little less time focusing on them and taking some time for yourself. But overall, they seemed to think you are pretty fun.

Advice Cards:

Make your presence felt You can if you think and believe you can Remember that in universal law, all is well and fair You are wiser than you think It's time to realize the blueprint of your soul Considerable and consistent effort may now be required You are greater than your story

Channeled Songs:

Pile 2 Cards: Knight of Cups, Nine of Swords, Six of Cups rx, Ten of Cups, The Sun, The Magician rx, Eight of Swords, Three of Pentacles rx Back of the Deck: Four of Pentacles

Ngl Pile 2, I'm picking up that your celebrity crush would be a little scared of you at first. For some of yall, you may come off pretty strongly and it might throw them off but I don't think thats for everyone (if yall are into the group TXT, there was this one girl that went up to Huening Kai at a fan sign and basically started throwing compliments at him and I'm sure he was flattered but it was A LOT, to the point that Beomgyu asked if she was a rapper cause she was speaking so fast, spirit keeps showing me this so I thought I would mention it lol) I am getting that they may be a kind of shy and timid person, even if they don't really seem like it and I feel like you have a really intense personality. I don't think this is in a bad way, it may be that you are loud, talkative, or just really energetic and I feel like this is a kind of energy your celebrity crush isn't used to. Their first impression of you just might be that they are nervous around someone with so much energy. I am also picking up for some of yall they are gonna feel shy cause they find you really attractive and they are afraid of making a fool out of themselves (aye go get em Pile 2). You may also have a pretty bold appearance (unique hair, colorful makeup, tattoos and piercings) and they may make certain assumptions about you from your looks but I feel like overall they are kinda blushing from your looks Pile 2. Yeah I feel like you would make them feel self conscious. Spirit keeps telling me that they would be learning a lesson from you(?). You would teach them an important lesson to nurture your inner child and to be authentically yourself. Your celebrity crush would see you as a really successful person, someone that is living life to the fullest. They see you as very independent and capable, like you could do anything you put your mind to.

Advice Cards:

A connection needs deeper attention You can manifest your heart's desire Give up resistance in your current situation Control is an illusion. Surrender and allow the Universe to guide you You are moving beyond your old form. Congratulations! Complete the project or task. Something is calling for closure

Channeled Songs:

Pile 3 Cards: King of Wands, Three of Swords, The High Priestess, Seven of Swords, The Lovers rx, Nine of Pentacles rx, The Magician rx, Two of Pentacles, Back of the Deck: Eight of Swords

Pile 3, you would straight up remind them of their ex. That message came out the strongest as I was shuffling. Spirit is telling me it's mostly because of how you look, you have a similar face structure or hair style to someone that they used to know (wonder what the channeled song is lol). You could also resemble another celebrity or person in their life and they can't help but see you as that person, I feel like they would accidentally say that person's name to you. I feel like after getting to know you, they would be REALLY interested in you, like probably more interested in you then you are in them. Like Pile 2, I feel like they would also be pretty self conscious around you, although I feel like this would be stronger than Pile 2 because they would really want you to like them. I heard "Senpai wants you to notice him."LMAO. I'm getting that your celebrity crush would actually think about you a lot, they may even have dreams about you right now (although I am hearing some of yall have been using some spells to make them think of you so if you have, this is confirmation that it is working). Honestly Pile 3, I picking up that your celebrity crush may have a lot of internal problems that they need to work on and if you knew them personally, I would advise you to distance yourself from them to give them time to work on themselves. I don't think your celebrity crush is a bad person at all, but they do got some stuff they need to work through. I am also picking up a small energy that some of yalls celebrity crush would see you really cool and chill, specially someone they would wanna play games with.

Advice Cards:

Be sure to keep your promises, especially to yourself Reflect on the state and use of your personal energy Give up resistance in your current situation Create a plan and take the first step A connection needs a deeper attention You may need to take a break from the situation or simply take a rest Spend some time in stillness to reflect

Channeled Songs:

Pile 4 Cards: The Chariot, The Fool rx, The Empress, Two of Wands rx, The Hierophant, Ace of Pentacles, Ace of Wands, Ten of Swords rx Back of the Deck: Page of Pentacles

Congratulations Pile 4, this is the only pile I pick up on romantic feelings lmao. It's pretty cute honestly. I feel like they would be pretty awe struck by you but OH MY GOODNESS Pile 4. All piles have kinda showed signs that they would find all physically attractive but this pile is on another level. The mixer of The Hierophant and Empress, I just see straight worship for you like yall. They are on their hands and knee for yall. Spirit is telling me if they could, they would make a whole statue or painting or some shit to show off your beauty. They be simping for you Pile 4. If you were talking, their attention is ON YOU, they are listening to every words. They see you as SO talent and smart Pile 4, they would feel like you have a lot of potential to do really amazing things, they would probably do everything in their power to help you out. Although, they would feel like they won't need to do anything cause you are just so powerful. Your celebrity crush would be at a loss of words around Pile 4. I am picking up some of yall are on the shy and quiet side but they would find it really cute. A very strong message from this reading is that they wouldn't want a conversation with you to end. Spending time with you, they wouldn't wanna go home. I am feeling that if you met, they would probably make a fool out of themselves and look stupid but it would come off as kinda cute. This is actually one of those rare moments when I actually don't see any negative energy from this Pile at all, this pile has a very comforting feeling, and they would probably feel that way around you. Comfy and cozy.

Advice Cards:

You need to make the first move Change is being introduced into your life Act on what you know A powerful dream will guide you The issue at hand is about reflection. What is the mirror showing you? A change in attitude toward the greater good could be beneficial

Channeled Songs:

(really felt like I needed to add literally any song called Attention but this one felt the best with the energy of the reading)

Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

#tarot #tarot reading #pick a pile #tarot reader #pac tarot #pac reading #pick a card reading #pick a photo #advice #celebrity readings #celebrity tarot #spotify #celebrity crush #love tarot reading #Spotify

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pumpkinstrawbrew · 2 months ago

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< kiss it better. >

...

(i had an urge, or rather the need to draw them kissing. the sheer fact, that i didn’t ever draw anyone kissing before wasn’t enough to stop me. in the same way, jonathan’s lack of experience with kissing wouldn’t have stopped him from trying to lock lips with the bat.

in this timeline, jonathan clearly already knows how to kiss bruce. must have done it enough times to get comfy with being affectionate in less … pushy ways. he also pretty familiar with small signs, that the bat doesn’t do all that well. some esp messed up / complicated cases would keep bruce sustained on little sleep an’ barely any time out of his suit. he shaves less frequently bc of it too. which is like the first sign, that he doesn’t pay a lot of attention to his daily habits. besides alfred, jonathan is the only other person, who notices those things an’ scolds the bat for it. which is ironic bc crane himself tends to huddle up inside some basement without a shower, much sleep or proper food for days, when he’s working on whatever. in a way, he’s even worse than bruce in that sense. but he doesn’t consider it a problem, when it’s him. but when it’s batman, now, that’s troublesome. an’ unlike bruce, who can literally haul him out an’ shove him into a bath *always have a vivid imagery of arkhamverse scarebat being in this situation* or put food in front of him an’ stand over jon till he eats it. jonathan has to be more ‘sly’ about his own methods. he prefers to egg the bat on, an’ kinda point out things until bruce might want to go an’ do smth just to prove him wrong lol. but he also attempts to coze the bat up with affection too. he’s not super graceful about it. but it’s the try that counts. an' he's hella smug about it, when he's successful, which is like almost always. really makes jon feel good about his knowledge of batman's inner workings.

meanwhile, i think, that bruce is often low-key surprised, when crane goes out of his way to be openly gentle, nearly consolatory with him. rather, then doing backwards things or weird gestures, that showing said gentle fondness. bruce in general is kinda reversed, when it comes to affection, even if he's better at giving it vs crane. but that's prob why the change manages to catch him off guard. his influence on jonathan's show itself in odd ways. i feel like jon is absolutely clueless about those things in the beginning. when he does them, he then acts very pissy an' embarrassed. but overtime, it gets less intense. he’s even let’s bruce lift his mask up his nose, after some time too. until that he acts all cagey about it. still very much self-conscious about his face. he can do it himself from time to time, but bruce is pretty much the only other person, he allows to do it at all. the complexity of their brain process, when it comes to their mask is smth else. they still cannot be normal about being just one single dude in the mask or without it lol.

anyways, jon can still be well, jon. he's weird an' love watching bruce's reactions on different things, bc he's still a scientist. and' professor of psychology. an' the scarecrow. therefore some kisses start with a small lick or a peck. another thing for bruce to ponder on. an' think how to respond in kind.

so yeps. just them kissing. it's one of those things that i wanna see an' think about [dreamily kicks legs] the end goal to make BTAS an' akrhamverse scarebat share a kiss as well.)

#batman comics #batman #bruce wayne #scarecrow #jonathan crane #scarebat #batcrow #brew draws

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thrashkink-coven · 3 months ago

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Understanding how your brain works to better utilize it in witchcraft spirituality or occultism

If you haven’t already done the quiz in part 1 see link below!!

Part 2: Interpreting your Results

Dominant in Field A

People who primarily use visual imagery as a vehicle of thought will be naturally more gifted in fields of occultism that have to do with visualization and "mind spaces". These are methods of magic which use the mind's eye as the dominating sense to observe energy or receive divine intuition. Things like scrying, hydromancy, capnomancy, mandalas, etc, will come very easily to people in this field. People who are dominant in visual imagery may also find success in manners of astral travel and mind palaces.

If you are dominant in field A, with field B as a supportive sense, you will find greater ease in visual types of meditations with the assistance of mantras, songs, or enns. People who are sufficient in these two senses in tandem are usually gifted with receiving visions/ visual stimuli whilst listening to mantras or music.

If you are dominant in field A with field C as a supportive sense, you may find it exceedingly easy to preform acts of astral travel and oneiromancy (dream divination). Your trances will be very vivid and stimulating. You will have ease imaging spaces and navigating them in real time. If you are a daydreamer, your fictional scenarios are likely very intricate and intense. You may be a lucid dreamer.

A and D together indicates talents in operations which include sigils and symbols. People with A and D are very likely to have success in oneiromancy which is powered by sigil work. You will have a much easier time understanding your visual experiences in dreams when you write them down. You may encounter deities or spirits that look like symbols themselves.

A and E together indicates that you will likely find it easy to enter into trance states when visualizing your goal or target. You will have greater success in preforming operations of divination where the entity communicates through visual sequences, and your manifestations rely heavily on you actively visualizing what it is you want to obtain, and how your life will be changed by obtaining it.

A and F together indicate that your mind is extremely susceptible to recalling visual stimuli. For people with A and F together, visual imagery that sits directly on the altar will be extremely beneficial. Talisman and symbols influence the subconscious mind into taking a desired path or attracting a desired energy or outcome. Having beautiful paintings of your deities on your altar, well established talisman dedicated to them, etc. will be very helpful to you in your craft. Your memory of events and the feelings you have associated with their visual imagery is the source of a lot of your energy.

Dominant in Field B

People who primarily use audible sounds as a vehicle of communication will have great success in all things which involve making mantras, beats, songs, poems and melodies in their craft. Creating songs for deities, having audible incantations and magic words in spell craft , and repeating affirming words to oneself will greatly aid people in this category. Hymns and Enns will likely be some of your favorite tools. You may also find witch bells, chimes, howling wind and rainfall relaxing. You will be talented in the skill of “hearing without hearing”, and may receive sounds as the primary method of communication from deities. If you are at all gifted with channeling, you may be very gifted at knowing what people are about to say before they speak.

B and C together may imply that you will incorporate movements, dances, or tapping into your mantras. Clapping, snapping, clicking, and moving all add to the energy of your operation. The way that sound interacts with your body is important to the way you experience the world. Your meditations should include a lot of auditory stimulation along with sensory toys like sand, water, chalk or dice.

B and D together mean you will gain a lot from things like enns and incantations. The combination of the magical words and the sounds they produce will be easily absorbed into your subconscious. The syllables and consonants themselves are magical, the vibrations they create when you hear them are the source of your energy. Humming a deities name in your chest or mouthing the characters of a magical word to reaffirm something will probably become habits of yours.

B and E together indicate that you will have greater ease receiving auditory messages during divination and spirit communication. You will not literally hear a voice or sound, but your brain will react as if it has. You may "hear" a sound and instantly understand the meaning of it as if you had studied a word. The auditory experience of your dreams will stand out to you.

B and F together indicate that you will gain a lot from very repetitive mantras and affirmations that can get stuck in your head easily. The law of attraction will be friendly to you. Associating affirmations with songs you already know and love will be very useful to you. You may receive deity communications through song lyrics, and familiar songs may pop up in your dreams often.

Dominant in field C

People who primarily use texture or sensations as a vehicle of thought will have great success in operations having to do with immersion. You will likely have an easier time entering into trances when submerged in water or dirt. Occult tools will probably seem very fun to use. You will have an easier time acclimating to tarot cards, dice, bones, and other tools which involve using hands on practice. You may also gain a lot from the smell of different incense when trying to enter trance like states. You are very involved with the way living inside your body feels.

C and D together indicate that you will gain a lot from textile talisman that you can constantly feel on your body throughout the day. Things like enchanted jewelry or charms with utilize symbols will likely be your most frequented tools. Feeling the shape of the symbol with your fingers like brail instantly affirms your manifestation.

C and E together indicates that you will find it very easy to enter trance states when you are grounded by some kind of textile experience, like a soft silk sheet or warm water. You could likely fall into a trance while sitting in a driving car or a rocking boat. Alternatively, you may have greater ease using tools like pendulums. You may also find ease in preforming grounding techniques which involve focusing energy into each part of the body. Rituals like the LBRP will come more naturally to you. You are likely very aware of your body and how energy flows through and around it.

C and F together indicate that you will find the most success in your craft when you return to places of familiarity and comfort. You likely have well established sensory tools that you have been using for years, like a wand, dice or a set of cards. Returning to a place of childhood joy like a park, an old friend’s house or a store you used to frequent will increase your ability to do good work. Likewise, when trying to do anything astral or “mind palace” related, you will likely come to find that you return to a place you have already been or currently inhabit, like a childhood home.

Dominant in field D

People who are dominant in field D are extremely involved in symbols and sigils. Your mind takes special care to identify and remember shapes which it believes communicates something important. You probably love to write, your prayers are poems and your thoughts are novels. You gain the most when you see information presented in symbols, either when you write them down or turn them into a pictorial. You will be very gifted at spell writing, coming up with incantations and diagrams, as well as creating and using sigils, especially those which relate to intuition and dreams.

D and E together means that you will find greater ease in entering trance states when meditating on sigils, especially deity sigils. If you can let your mind go quiet and truly focus on that sigil for long enough, you will likely find it easier to communicate with deities and identify their energies. Whenever you receive these communications, they will likely be communicated to you through text or symbols.

D and F together means you SHOULD DEFINITELY HAVE A DREAM JOURNAL OMG!!! If you are interested in divination or deity communication you will likely be receiving a lot of sigils and magic words to utilize in your craft while you sleep. WRITE IT DOWN! Having sigils and symbols all around your sleeping and working space is very important to your craft. When you can automatically and immediately communicate what you are trying to manifest by just seeing a symbol it will most definitely leak into your subconscious. Your dreams will be the most prophetic and profound when they seem the most cryptic and nonsensical. Study the symbols!

Dominant in field E

People who are dominant in field E will have the greatest ease in accessing trance like states and deep meditations. These people are quite easily able to silence their inner thoughts and go with the flow. They simply do because they know and tend not to have many options about their every day actions.

E and F together are a very interesting combination. Most F types are very grounded in their real world environment, while E types are are able to adapt quickly to new mental states or environments. This means you may be very able to access different states of mind but simply opt not to, instead taking the path of least resistance. You may be skilled at doing manifestations or affirmations without thinking about it. In fact, thinking about your desires too much may be your pitfall. You are good at manifesting and then forgetting about the things you manifested, only to be surprised when you get what you wanted. You may be superstitious and very sure not to violate your own personal rules.. You likely have well defined “rituals” in your life that seem like second nature.

Dominant in field F

Those who are dominant in field F are very nostalgic people. They enjoy repetition and feel safest when they're around people they've known for a long time. Those who are dominant in memory based thoughts are likely to be both self critical and hyper aware. They may have some difficulty with things like astral travel due to an inability to stop producing conscious thoughts, but they will have great luck in manifestation and affirmations. These people are masters at the law of attraction and entering the flow of their desires. They are able to recognize cycles and choose how they want to approach them, either by perpetuating or breaking them.

These people are more likely to have the greatest revelations when remembering events that have already happened. Synchronizations will make the most sense in hindsight. Tarot is a tool you may have great success in.

Did you have fun? Did you learn something about yourself? Please let me know if you did!

I am not a psychologist lol, these are just some things I've noticed that might help some beginners get a better idea of some practices they might have a natural talent at! These are obviously not strict at all, and being more dominant in one field doesn't make you any more or less capable of practicing witchcraft, spirituality or occultism. You might just have a better time identifying your strengths and weaknesses with these things in mind. Okay bye ily xx 💋💋

#pagan #paganism #witchcraft #demonology #magick #occultism #magic #witch community #demonolatry #witchblr #grimoire #baby witch

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fumifooms · 6 months ago

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Thistle & Falin

Just my narrative of Thistle & Falin, collection of shippy thoughts and dynamic analysis. Creating some imagery and threads, etc. What if we both made devotion to our loved ones our purpose, what if we both hadn’t lived for ourselves in a long, long time. Who are we? Beyond who we love and our powers, what are we?

Background info: a short Falin analysis touching on Faligon and Thistle + an old thistlin post, compiling most of their moments. Here I delve into further thoughts but for base analysis of what they have in canon and in potential those are good starts. If you want I also have a full Falin analysis.

Disclaimer: Beyond the nebulous 1000 years I place Thistle as a young adult, and though I agree Falin mothers him to some degree I don’t think it’s unsimilar to the way that Marcille is a mom friend that sometimes mothers Falin and Izutsumi especially. Their relationship has layers like every other one in Dunmeshi, reducing it to being incestuously motherly or age discoursy to justify it being problematic is so funny to me, hello did you miss the mind control. Ah yes I love the 1090 yo with godlike powers being groomed by his chicken slave. You can have your own interpretation but canon is ambiguous enough, and dare I say intentionally ambiguous, that I have no qualms with not infantilizing Thistle, same with Yaad at the end of canon. I do ship Thistle and Falin, and although it’s in a nebulous qpr-or-other third secret thing situationship instead of conventionally romantic way, like, I puke on anything giving them a parental framing so don’t come shitting on my doorstep, kid-Thistle truthers be warned. Only nuance enjoyers allowed on this post. It’s valid if you’re uncomfortable with the ship!! Don’t make your issue others’ problem.

I thankfully finished my Falin analysis before posting this, but besides that I also have an analysis coming on the whole Thistle age thing which I think is interesting, beyond the well being poisoned there are things to explore there, idk in how long that’ll be done though. That’s all for plans that are relevant to this, now let’s get into it.

Part 1

So my favorite Falin things are Faligon + her sense of being like a pawn/misplaced, going on autopilot to follow the wishes of others, a feeling of identity being a burden and sort of fleeing from that, and her not really caring in the way/with the intensity that she’s "supposed" to (as per the points I go over in my Falin analysis). Meanwhile, Thistle has a lot of shit going on already but then there’s also how being a dungeon lord is highly wearing on his mind. As Faligon and as dungeon lord Thistle, the way they’re both so out of touch with reality in different ways holy shit?? They have power imbalance between them and it very much comes from mind control lol, but it’s also not something Thistle is fully aware of himself, because the powers are driving him unstable and he’s not even aware there’s someone in front of him really. He’s so out of it that he can’t even recognize that the dragon has been fused with a human and she’s so out of it we can’t even tell how conscious of her actions she is.

And then the interesting thing is that they’re kind of in it together… Mostly from Falin’s standpoint. We see that he does rely on the dragon increasingly so, hanging out with it, being saved by it and embraced by her etc. When he lets them both fall after breaking the web they were hanging from, he automatically, fully and wordlessly trusts her to catch him, instead of relying on magic or anything, and she does. Falin devotes herself to him but he’s devoted to The Cause which is just chasing ghosts at this point. But despite it all there’s a weird comfort here too… From the guy who in his last moment of lucidity reached out for someone, anyone’s hand, from the guy who hasn’t felt companionship in hundreds of years probably, hasn’t taken it slow and slept and eaten in who knows how long, from the girl who feels compelled to care after him like she’s always done with others… And the beast-ness allows her to have some freedom to figure herself out in a weird way, to simply enjoy being beside someone and doing anything her own whims tell her to.

It’s very destructive and weird and layered but like…. I can see the sliver where it works out. Where her kindness reaches him and he has a moment of lucidity where he sees her and it’s like, wait, who are you, you’re not the dragon?? Where finding someone else who feels just as messed up and devoted as them, like they’re just trudging along life like it’s a dream following their loved one, heals them a bit. Where caring for the other becomes a way to care for themselves too, a dark mirror of each other that shows you, oh, this is how bad it can get and I want to choose something else for myself actually. To grow to see the person standing in front of you, instead of only searching with your eyes in what way they’ll reflect on you. In helping each other, finding some companionship that’s weirdly vulnerable and self-healing. He gets her in touch with herself and her own needs again through the arc and conflict they have, and she gets him in touch with the world and his surroundings again. They have clashing ways to be selfless, very self-sacrificial from Falin meanwhike self-centered with Thistle (he ‘knows best’, ‘everything needs to be left to him’, etc etc, he needs the control, but he does it all for others, meanwhile Falin leaves that control to others and only grabs it for herself in exceptional cases like sacrificing herself to the dragon for Laios).

Like just let yourself be, damn!!! So then them being like, zombie mentally stunted babies kind of enhances that theme in a way too lol. The way they communicate together is very… Instinctive and basic, and I’d love to see how it could develop into a functional dynamic. They’re in ‘learning to be your own person’ kindergarten together to me. Thistle looking at her coloring wildly outside the lines and being like "you’re doing it wrong" and then you look at his and he colored everything a weird color. The precision is scary but then his crayon goes 1 mm out of the lines and he blows up into tears. Ok the metaphor has run its course

So yeah like the ship/brotp is very, them being isolated and against the world together and like… Slowly regaining their minds together. Getting their sense of identity grounded into them again. In my mind they have a 50k words adventure where they hang out and he slowly realizes there’s more to her than just dragon and she encourages him to dawdle around and eventually just play in water and shit and it’s like, starting to see life again beyond the laser focus you limited yourself to… And she’s allowed to just chill out and do whatever she wants besides the whole searching for Delgal thing. You can’t tie down a dragon! They are a duo they are an unit‼️ He’d have been fucked without her and at this point in time he sort of made her and he’s her world. Traumabonded kittens do not separate but it’s onesided in different ways haha. Honestly it’s sort of reflavored mickuro wait fuck…

If nothing else, they’re a very interesting dynamic to ponder. The depths of it all… I want to use them as a social experiment. I want them to stop to smell at the flowers and learn to work together… They’re master and servant they’re owner and pet they’re mothering and mothered (in a guardian hound way, in a mom friend way) they’re both incredibly (emotionally and physically) vulnerable in different ways…… Master and monster if you will. Mostly I see them as guardian & leader. Like I said I ship them but it’s not really romantic atp I think but it’s not quite qpr either it’s truly a weird secret third thing… What if we were sort of coworkers but also ?!!!>??????! You should hate me but you fiercely protect me I should appreciate you but I only see you as a tool WHAT IS GOING ONNN IN THERE

He wants to be protected even if he can’t really admit it. Here the catalyst was emotional distress moreso than physical threat. Notice how he lays there under her wing for a bit as he (refuses to) processes what Mithrun told him about Delgal dying and betraying him. She’s becoming his safety net, his comfort hound. Somehow, the both of them find they’re soothed in each other’s presence.

It kills me. Them being so toxic at the start of it, then somehow ambiguously just hinting towards how things could have went on to be better, could have been headed somewhere nice and healing and healthier, she dies and he dies everyone fucking dies and they forget each other and it ends there they never speak of each other again. Canon wanted me dead specifically. Like remember too that I was there when the last chapters where being released, my ass really was like "Oh I wonder how Falin will react seeing Thistle after being revived!" 🤡 But yess at least that means there’s a lot of Unsaid, a lot of space for speculation, and I want to see what could have been. I want to see it so so bad. It’s so interesting

Post-canon is also so interesting, where they’re sort of recovered but not fully not really, them actually getting to know each other… And she doesn’t remember him but he doesn’t remember her either, in a way they’ve never met even though they have, even though she was the first one on his side since so long, the first hint of companionship he’s had, companionship that he’s so unused to getting that he can’t even recognize it for what it is. He couldn’t even recognize a human standing in front of him!! He is so disconnected from others and the world!! He spoke to ghosts like they had no worries in the world and everyone was ok!! He’s out of touch, tone-deaf af!! Has always been tone-deaf!! Being tone-deaf when he was younger, a stick in the mud, caused him to be more isolated than he already was… Autism4autism, anyways—

It’s them not knowing why or how to express it but being drawn together, a bond forged together by the fire of circumstances and coincidences— or is it only that? No one can know for certain but there’s a grip they have on each other there somehow. Weird distant caring thing. I dont know who you are but I feel like I should know you

It’s like my headcanon that she doesn’t know why, but on her travels she feels something when she comes across wild thistle flowers… There are just faint remnants, whispers of feelings like ghosts.

They should be remnants in each other’s lives. A deja vu of a person in the way Falin hugs small dolls to her chest, or how Thistle reminisces of something when he sees bird feathers discarded on the ground. < This paragraph courtesy of @cabinette’s huge brain

He canonically writes poems btw… Poems would be such a good way for him to get in touch with himself again post-canon, find desires in again and get creative fulfillment. He should make poems about her. To explore and vent and express all the vague feelings and memories he has, both those of during canon and after canon. He doesn’t remember her but he remembers her, slivers of kind eyes and warm gentle hands and healing magic like a blanket…

Yaad, an unlicensed therapist but the best you're gonna get in fantasy land: Maybe you should try journaling.

And too the thing is their relationship with each other in a way is ONLY about themselves, even when Falin is being self-sacrifical it’s less about him and more about how she generally is, that sort of instinct to latch onto someone and just follow along with whatever they do and ask, meanwhile to Thistle she’s only ever been a factor in his plans. Idk idk them getting to that point where they see and know each other, stumbling into that through canon or actively working towards it post-canon, there’s weird beauty in that Like. Thistle cares about her because he’ll take anyone as long as they fit the job description well enough, he’s desperate to find Delgal and will grasp at straws to find him. In a similar way that he’ll reach for someone, anyone’s hand on the verge of death, she seeks to protect someone, anyone. That’s how she centers herself, makes someone her compass and her world. Falin wants to protect someone and Thistle would use anyone, pushed to the states they were in they would latch onto anyone for comfort (caring for him, grabbing Marcille’s hand).

Mirrors truly truly. And Thistle likes to shatter those, and silence anyone who tries to talk to him about reality, so then the option left is to be by him quietly and subtly gradually, gently (her specialty) nudge him in the right direction … Nooo but actually why did he shatter those mirrors. Very interesting to think about. Would seeing himself in others anger him?

I like to call him a ghost of who he was sometimes, a ghost of the past, he’s so haunted, and I think there’s fun imagery there too. The care she offers Thistle somewhat reminds me of the one she offers ghosts. I wonder if part of it is that she sees herself in ghosts, that she wants to offer them freedom and peace of mind she can’t get for herself.

And of course meanwhile on her end, the thistlin arc is also about growing self-respect. I don’t want to see Thistle as a lost cause in saying that her efforts are wasted on him, but being so permissive and invested in him is obviously not healthy for her. She needs to learn when to put her foot down

Oooh, just realized that choosing to eat in this scene was a big character moment all things considered. By eating she faltered in her task, stood up for herself and her needs, was selfish for once (/positive go get your damn food girl). She chose to eat. Anyways

I bet he’s the one who healed her wounds after the Shuro party fight. And on that note— it’s interesting he could change her form from Falin to Faligon without touching her isn’t it? Healing by everyone else like Marcille and Falin always required touch, physical contact between the healer and healee, which some like Chilchuck say is a negative, but… The dungeon lord not needing to touch to heal makes a nice metaphor for how isolating the powers are I think. Truly clinical instead of warm. Theme of community and freely offering affection in Dungeon Meshi etc etc. Like I said, Thistle is out of touch.

The way that he has the powers to change her form and heal and like soo much magic power but he can’t even realize when he’s hurting himself and she’s the one who has to heal him. He’s so fully devoted to the cause even when he acts selfishly that he neglects himself too, and she has to remind him to take care of himself, to eat, etc. That she feeds him. Eating is an act of love to yourself and to life. The berries, the curry, the soup that Thistle refuses to eat—

Do you see the vision. Do you see all the narrative relevance and themes and parallels of their dynamic. To chase ghosts, to cling onto them so they stay with you no matter how warped and ugly they get, and to soothe souls, purifying them and helping them depart for the afterlife… Both magic prodigies whose lives revolve around protecting and caring after their loved ones more than anything else. A family member who looks elsewhere while they are their whole world. They can flee their emotional issues together 🤝 Who are we? Beyond who we love and our power, what are we? I think about the way she cradled him in her arms just before they fell down into the dungeon all the time idk idk

^ End notes from the one fic I wrote about them so far: Slivers, on AO3. For a moment, they were both slivers of themselves, bound together.

Thistle feverishly holding onto ghosts of the past and his source of power, meanwhile Falin cradles the people she can protect in the now with the powers that reside in her… Him cradling his book, her cradling her master……… Parallels

Interlude

And yess it’s important to remember too, Thistle became a mage only after delgal asked… He had innate talent, but moreso than Falin it’s through studies that he learned to actually harness his magic etc. Idk I think it’s an interesting parallel that could have interesting stuff be done on it. People often characterize him as predominantly bratty but. He’s smart and composed he’s mainly smart and composed… He’s unstable and everything during canon was happening all at once with the winged lion being freed and Laios’ party and the canaries and agh </3 He can have a meltdown as a treat he’s smart and cool-headed if it wasn’t for the dungeon wearing on his mind ok… Obvi I love my chars with anger issues but saying he’s overly childish is having tunnel vision I think

Ok so the elephant in the room… First of all how present is Falin in Falugon exactly…… We have no clue. The end sequence does show her in purgatory with a dragon foot holding her down, which can easily be read as it suppressing her personality- with how it’s shown though it feels like she’d be fully suppressed by that? And we know that’s not the case, since not only does she recognize Laios and calls out to him, she hesitates to hurt Kuro because of the dog association, she’s excessively kind towards Thistle, the latter which her Adventurer’s Bible profile confirm to be "her kind nature remaining as the chimera". Maybe it’s a dream-like state? Maybe the dragon is the driving force with the instincts, and it’s only bits of Falin and her personality that show through? A state of mind very primal and not very think-y, even if Falin has enough brains to think of sharing the berries, gesturing and oh- of course, casting magic. No issues with controlling the human half of her body as well. To some degree, her and the dragon are working in tandem. My own preferred interpretation is the driven by instincts one, a state of mind like an actual dragon’s, which in my Falin analysis I delve into the significance of it for other parts of Dunmeshi too. So yeah, dreamlike mindless autopilot… I think exploring her pov as Faligon would go super hard. Aware of her surroundings but sort of disconnected with it, and disconnected from herself too, entirely living in the present… And like with her talking to Laios— the only time she speaks in her chimera form, a simple observation, "Laios, brother", sometimes her human thoughts peek through more sharply, short moments of lucidity… I think it’d be interesting to see an arc where as the chimera, she learns to share the "brainspace" more with the dragon.

It’s also unclear if Thistle had a say in how much of ‘Falin the human’ is in control? He very well might have suppressed her somehow when he changed her form to be more dragonlike. That might also be due to just getting back the dragon meat though— and the dragon meat itself might be why/how the brainspace is shared. There is a lot less of Falin’s body in the chimera than there is of the dragon, body mass wise. Dungeon Meshi is a lot about physicality so I wouldn’t be surprised with this reasoning. But there’s the whole mind control soul bond situation too…

The mind bond is another thing that’s left mostly to interpretation when it comes to the details. She feels compelled to listen to the dungeon lord’s orders as a monster created and owned by it, like the dragons Thistle summoned during the fight at his house, but again like we see with the dragons, if the monster has a "strong will" it can disobey to some level without being punished by the bind or anything. The eyes of the magician, the small wyverns, level-of-control wise can’t be accurate examples because they’re sort of like familiars, Thistle can see through their eyes in real time no matter where they are but it’s only this species as far as we know. So otherwise the mind bond is more subtle… There’s also the question of how much the control is shared between the dungeon lord and the demon, which again Thistle’s situation is exceptional because he managed to seal his demon in a book, presumably all the power goes through Thistle without the intermediate of the winged lion, though we do see he has some reach since he reaches Laios through his dreams. ANYWAYS all that to say. I do really ponder about how a dungeon lord's monsters get their orders, like... For the fight on the first floor, did Falin just feel Thistle's agony in her bones and came clawing and barging her way in desperately and angrily to protect him because of his distress, or did he more directly demand she come, consciously or not?! Idk, since Falin is actively protective of him unlike the dragons who reluctantly listen to him, her being very fast and intense about it doesn’t have to be forced… It’d be interesting if she can sense his feelings, wants or thoughts, bc I don’t think it’s as conscious as like, telepathically communicating "hey you, do this"…? Pondering, pondering. Mind bond <3 Soulbound <3

They’re both very trapped in the past… I wonder if as Faligon a lot of her mind goes back to memories of Laios and such, if she’s in a dreamlike state and not just sort of absent, where would her mind retreat... I don’t think so like I said I think she’s mostly driven by dragonlike mindlessness, but still… Thistle stuck in the search of Delgal, thinking back to everything they’ve shared and where it all went wrong obsessively, and Falin, sort of larping that she’s still beside Laios, not unlike how Thistle treats having the corpses of the royal family at his house like them being safe. Delusions. Idk I just want more character studies.

The metaphors in this truly… It’s not literal, like def not something that happens during canon at no point are they or could be ever atop a mountain of frames and paintings of the Golden Kingdom’s royal family and fine art lmaoo, so then like the meaning behind it all… She offers him reprieve, an outsider from all the Golden Kingdom expectations and drama, just someone warm to lean on, someone who’ll stay…….. I love Faligon pushing him to rest and nap so much. Man has first nap in a thousand years. Feather duvet like a nice warm pillow. The peace she offers him man……. Live in the present bbygirl Unfortunately it doesn't help. Look at them eyebags… Man needs to sleep!!

Part 2

^ This panels drives me crazy It’s the possessivity. It’s the "my". It’s the "stealing".

What if you have fear of abandonment and think you have to prove your worth for people to stay by your side. What if belonging to someone makes you feel like you belong and you feel loved and soothed by it lowkey, feel like it makes things easy. What if I was bought as a slave and servant but I was adopted into a pretty loving family. What if ownership is what love looks like to me. What if that’s why I have no problem rationalizing keeping people against their will in a glorified kingdom-prison, because that’s just what someone with the power who Knows Better does, and… Did he always call her his dragon hello? Feelings

He is not letting it go damn He hates when people mess with what's his. Or Delgal’s.

But imagine. The dragon is like, the last thing he has. The Golden Kingdom has moved on from him, everything is shit, but his dragon is the last thing he still has some realm of like. Ownership over. But that ownership is kinda just his sense of belonging. His role, his duty. So it’s like "Don’t steal the last thing I have" especially if post-canon… It’s thinking from his time as a jester bought into a loving family that ownership is natural in love and care. It’s thinking that’s the way you get to belong beside someone, beside earning that through achievements and being useful and capable. Everything is being stolen away from him. Control and things and people and even the importance he has to the Golden Kingdom as he becomes part of the background & past history and the kingdom switches into new hands aka Laios’…

My dragon, not the dragon. I do like to imagine especially after the berries he’s starting to feel differently about her. He keeps being like "you’re acting odd, dragon". His dragon is special. She’s not just another regular monster npc to easily replace, there’s human contact in there. His dragon just for him. <3

I do think Falin has some issues with like, asking to be with the people she loves, feeling safe in asking for that, that she’s worth that. She follows them and is quiet and just takes the crumbs of love that they offer, she doesn’t ask Marcille at the academy to spend lunches with her, doesn’t ask anything of her distant busy father and ill anxious mother… The person she did ask things of, Laios, who she always asked to go travel the world with him and whatnot, left her behind. Like how Delgal left Thistle. Theme of leaving </3 theme of family and abandonment issues </3 So she just follows and cares after them and makes herself useful and is grateful she gets to be beside them at all. So yeah what I’m saying is being owned/belonging to someone might feel yeah like, belonging. Being One Person's. He’s seen her at her worst and most bloody and raw, and still wants her? Very comforting And especially post-canon he doesn’t need her to be witty or useful or such, he just needs her love and that’s what she has lots to give.

Do you think Falin wants to be needed… Do you think she’s a little restless if she doesn’t feel like she is, like she thinks just like Laios people might leave you behind and you never see them again. It’s also because of what she said, that she put others before herself, that she just followed/imprinted on her parents/Laios/Marcille. She avoided conflict, she wanted to be liked and live in peace. The only times she was selfish, she hurt people (left school for Laios, sacrificed herself for them, teleported them out despite possibly hurting people on the surface), so she chooses to be selfless instead. "One of the most selfish things i've ever done was barely even for the sake of myself" - Falin and Toshiro both hah Falin is often told she doesn’t care the right way or not enough, you’re cutting classes Falin, I’m upset you left me and you don’t even seem to think it’s a big deal Falin, you shouldn’t have sacrificed yourself to save me (her not noticing her ostracization in her village wasn’t told to her but I’m including it also). And with Toshiro when considering her proposal, she was worried to accept because yeah it’s have been convenient but she wouldn’t be reciprocating his feelings in the way he wants and expected her to with what he asked of her… And she’s worried it wouldn’t be right… Bc she doesn’t care about the proposal on the same level he does….. I just think that’s neat I think that Falin caring both too little and too much, with laser focus on Laios & Marcille neglecting even herself, is a big part of her. She focuses on others and their emotional needs so so much always, babygirl be selfish for a while…

Thistle’s interaction with Laios is interesting too, especiaoly when Kaios heals him. How he looks at his shoulder, surprised and confused… Guy who's used to not having his personal needs met because he's so busy doing everything for the people he cares about receives care??? Woah that’s crazy Something something being so unused to human contact and affection that you don’t know how to process it and don’t recognize it when it happens/stares you right in the face. Thistle the Toudens are gonna make you open up ur heart to humans again on god…

What if… He doesn’t want to admit she’s not the dragon. If he admits it’s not the dragon that means giving up some control… This was not in his plan, he doesn’t know how well he can control a chimera rather than a dragon, it’s weakness it’s vulnerability it’s feeling like he’s losing his grip on everything again and thus losing his place and purpose. Hmm…

Finding yourself through someone else… Because defining yourself through others is what you’ve always done… Yeah. Yeah.

I do love it tying into Falin’s arc of finding herself. Like, she doesn’t remember her time as a chimera, she just remembers this guy she has conflicted but fond feelings of for some reason, so say if they travel post-canon, traveling with him would also be a way to figure out more how she’s feeling, and then there’s how when looking at him she gets the feeling that it’s been a long time he hasn’t lived for himself either… And like for him traveling is about seeing the world a bit too. Seeing it not as something to control or always dangerous but something to explore, and just enjoy the little things instead of worrying about the court. And just. Aghhhh. He hasn’t had someone on his side for centuries. Sighs. Of course Yaad also becomes that largely but traveling post-canon with Falin… Would love to see that in fancontent

Them growing to SEE each other, with the film in front of their eyes slowly fading away. Both of them coming out of it more genuine than they’d been even before meeting, before becoming warped, growing more comfortable in their skin and with the thought of connecting with others. It’s the mutual care <33 it’s having been on each other’s side at both your ugliest <3 Unconventional caring...

Toshiro saying "you can’t tie down a dragon" is always so good… Someone should so do stuff with that. "But you can tame it" / "I tried to once" / "but she chose to stay with me anyways"… Musical theme of How to Train your Dragon starts playing in the distance

When/after they get together, I feel like their relationship isn’t something they like to label… If anything it’s like. Partner. Or calling each other by name… Him calling her my dragon, except now it’s warm and personal would be so. Aughh <3 But then that just also makes the first time he calls her by name so huge.

Conclusion

They and their relationship is weird and unusual but that’s just how they are, and how they need to accept themselves (again: as they are) and roll with it! And make a place in the world for them anyways!

Magic forced them to be vulnerable in front of each other but it’s them who have to like… Be pushed out of their passivity and do something with that vulnerability.

BROTHERSSS THEY’RE BOTH ALL ABOUT BROTHERS. LEAVING. OUT OF TOUCH WITH REALITY. OUT OF TOUCH WITH THEMSELVES AND THEIR OWN IDENTITY. In a twisted way only the other would understand what it’s like.

Thistlin is so crazy, in humanizing you it humanizes me, in recognizing you for what you are I get more back in touch with the world again.

Flighted birds have hollow bones. With freedom there are risks and drawbacks. Thistle was Falin’s.

It’s not everyday you can have a ship where both characters are out of touch with reality and others and themselves and have this weird almost innate bond of her being compelled to protect him and care for him and him holding onto that unknowingly… Even if he didn’t need to, keeping her by himself and sitting on her while he plans and has a panic attack….. And also he owns her and robbed her of her freedom & body & full mind but she still wuvs him. Weird intimacy with the guy who horrifically changed you into something else, and yet is not even aware he has done it.

Falin loves nature and Thistle is named after a flower… Her post-canon coming across wild thistles and feeling a rush of fondness and she doesn’t know why… Thistles have thorns, but they taste sweet. Just gotta peel them off and enjoys the sweet taste of it once it’s open <3 Eat it like them honeysuckles

Slice of life 40k words thistlin sitcom I need you. Don’t make me write it myself. Sob

You are so so close sweetie…

wutiwant

I don't know what I want But I know it's not this These words don't mean nothing Once they left my lips More awake inside of my dreams Was that really you, next to me? Give me what I want, who am I supposed to please? Who am I supposed to please? Who am I? Who am I? I? Give me what I want Give me what I want

Some links, since the pair is small enough that finding stuff for them can be hard: Falin & Thistle search on pixiv Falin & Thistle search on danbooru Ao3: Thistle x Falin, Thistle & Falin Ship names: ファリシス / シスファリ. Thistlin

My own spotify playlists: Thistle & Falin, Thistle, Falin

source v

#Early thistle my beloved #Qpr or romo who knows Thistle has a job so he don’t really care about that rn #They’re only allowed to send each other mind waves and feed each other’s deep seated loneliness in ways neither can express #Like how do u even begin talking about these two damn. Sighhh. Looking wistfully out my window #Fumi rambles #Thistle #falin touden #thistlin #falisle #Maybe lol #thistle x falin #A buddy said they’re like ghibli romance and then my mind got consumed by a spirited away au for them #Sissel #Dunmeshi rarepairs #Analysis #Like I often say I love to explore a character through a relationship and for Thistle that’s Falin to me #The arc of it all… “are you even a dragon or what’ you’ve been acting strange since you changed forms” progress omg…. You are so close #Making castles out of the building blocks canon gave us #They’re both devoted body and soul to their brothers like augh. They both drive themselves into the ground for them #This is really just a collection of thoughts and i repeat myself a lil. The structure of this is so shite feel free to just skim or whateve #Their lives are centered around otherssss i can’t get over it #Psspspsps thistlin fans come you are sweet now my sweet child. If anyone wants 5.5k words of thistlin meta here u go #Happy 1 year in the dunmeshi fandom to me. Going back to my roots #Spoilers

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solradguy · 2 months ago

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I’ve been curious about this for a while, but is there a reason that Asuka’s name is the way it is?

Because in Japanese it’s written 飛鳥＝Ｒ＝クロイツ.

I know 2/3rds of it is Christian R(osen)kreuz but why is his first name kanji? Is there any reason for this? Is it a reference? Even if it is a reference, he is not Japanese so wouldn’t it be アスカ＝Ｒ＝クロイツ ?

Is there some Asuka lore I don’t know about? Is it just an aesthetic choice/to make his name as wacky as possible? (I mean, a kanji, romaji, kana combo for a name isn’t something you don’t see every day).

This has been on my mind for weeks.

I don't have citations for any of this so take it all with a grain of salt because I'm largely speculating.

飛鳥 means "flying bird" and Asuka's got a lot of bird/flying imagery in GG, especially in Strive. It could be that Daisuke just liked the motifs, but his design decisions are generally much deeper than that. Asuka has a LOT of themes baked into his character for things like Japan post-WW2/atomic bomb, the effects of horrors of decisions made during wars on the people who make them, and "sacrifice for a greater good." This last one is evident in the decision he had to make in redirecting Justice's laser towards Japan, killing millions but saving the rest of the world from whatever destruction the Universal Will was going to bring.

Asuka being an American with a Japanese first name and German last name fits into that too, with those three countries all interacting closely in horrible ways during WW2. Again, him having to redirect Justice's laser mirrors America's actions with the atomic bomb. "They dropped the bombs to prevent further deaths during the war" is a common (grim) reasoning given for it.

It's possible the bird motifs suggest a freedom and want for a life unburdened by heavy decisions that Asuka is never going to have. The more abstract bird motifs, like his weird eyepatch thingy, could also tie in with angel symbology and the Rosenkreutz/Rosicrucian Order stuff, which then loop back to his connection with magic and Backyard esoterica.

On a lighter note, Daisuke was almost definitely inspired by Go Nagai's Devilman, despite me not having a citation for that lol. 飛鳥 is the same kanji Ryo Asuka from Devilman uses, and GG Asuka's relationship to Sol is almost 1:1 to Ryo's and Akira Fudo's in Devilman. Sol's Dragon Install designs borrow some inspirations from the Devilman's too, most notably in the weird head-wing thingies.

Asuka R. Kreutz is a character that has a ton of very deliberate and carefully chosen elements to his character. I have zero doubts that, when we do find out why Daisuke named him the way he did, it's going to open the floodgates for intense analysis.

#asks #Shoutout to Shmuel for sharing a lot of this info with me #Asuka is absolutely fascinating to pick apart. The things they've hidden in that character are insane #I am definitely not the right person to ask to elaborate on it though but I think Shmuel's been working on a big thing with it all #There are pieces of Asuka they dropped back in OVERTURE that didn't come into play again until Strive #I'd love to read Daisuke's design documents because establishing details and not making them relevant until like 15 years later is nuts #And they're details where it's like... How many people even knew about this lol It's so hidden. Who else actually went digging for this

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honeyhotteoks · 13 days ago

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do you have any advice on like getting better with writing?

hey! i definitely do!! i’ve talked about this before but i have a lot of new readers, so ill start off by saying i’ve been writing for my entire life, and im 30 so thats a lot of years. if you’re a new writer, trust me i used to be there and good god if you guys could see the stuff i published in old fandoms 💀 really, really bad haha

i only say that because i by no means consider myself a great writer, there are fic writers in this space alone that i’m always so floored by and look up to…. but people have been very kind about my writing style and it’s something that took time to develop it’s not something i just “had”. outside of fic, i was a literature and creative writing major, and got very used to writing and workshopping pieces.

now! onto some actual advice —

1. read a lot and read more, but read stuff you actually like and not stuff you feel pressured to read. i love high brow litfic as much as the next pretentious english major, but i started writing a ton after reading a bunch of kindle unlimited romance because it was fun and it got me inspired

2. watch well written television for dialogue and pacing. people do not talk in proper english, they don’t say things eloquently, and there’s a lot of filler and fluff. that’s good! that’s real, so i love well written tv to show me how it’s done

3. get comfortable writing in weird ways. for years i used to sit down and be like “ah okay so chapter one” and then i was stuck, stalled out, and just felt bad about the process. when i started writing both aurora and tnt, i started in the middle. i had an image of a scene in my mind (for tnt it was actually the claim attempt) and i just wrote it out and then bounced around later

4. outlines are your friend! sometimes i’ll get a random line of dialogue in my head or an image but that doesn’t mean i’m ready to write it. i throw it in one big outline so i don’t lose it.

5. if you’re wanting to write really good smut i have two suggestions but please only do this to your personal comfort level. this is what works for me but do not make yourself uncomfortable— for good smut, i watch porn for reference and for good dirty talk, i listen to nsfw audio. i like to really write the visuals for smut and make it immersive but lol i haven’t experienced everything ive written about and logistics of the body are hard!! i usually find a video or an audio and let that help guide the imagery im writing.

6. be comfortable with the editing process. i know the temptation to post something the minute you finish it is there, but sleep on it. come back and edit it, read the dialogue out loud if you have to. i swear you’ll make the piece better just by leaving it and coming back.

7. don’t be afraid to post. most people are kind, and the worst thing that will happen is you don’t get a lot of notes. that’s okay, it’s a process.

8. research! as i’m writing anything, even a silly little oneshot, im doing research on something. i am hyper aware that im not korean and have never spoken korean or lived in korea, so for my fic i try my hardest to ground elements of that in reality. i truly cannot tell you how many hours ive spent reading like korean case law on revenge porn just for like 3 lines of dialogue. and you don’t have to go that crazy, i’m arguably too intense, but i do think some of that helps the story and the dialogue feel real.

9. describe something real- every place in my writing is based on something real. every apartment, hotel, cafe, venue, etc., they’re all either something i’ve found online or drawn from my life and use that to my advantage. i use apartment listings and save photographs, i do google map walks to see what neighborhoods look like, anything to get the feel of a place or an experience. for the christmas chapters of aurora, i watched hours of gwangju walking tour videos on youtube while i was writing just to understand how to describe their walk in the snow. it really helps me to have a visual that i can put words to.

10. find your weak points and see what other writers do differently. if you want to improve, you should find a small place to start. is it dialogue? overall plot? smut? etc. - i’ll never forget being on a creative writing retreat, and a very important writing professor said to me “everything you write is very pretty but you haven’t said anything. you have to decide to say something.” that feedback hurt, but sent me down a much better writing path when i realized where i was falling short and not challenging myself.

okay i hope some of this was helpful and if it’s a mess im sorry im on mobile. i really just love writing so deeply and will always talk about it, so i hope this was helpful 💗

#answered anon #honeyhotteoks thoughts

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kedsandtubesocks · 8 months ago

Text

be your hallowed ground

Demon!Ezra x F!Reader

summary: 1700’s. the journey home before you is long, weary, and you are alone… but not for long

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. colonial era inspired AU, inexperienced!reader, religiously raised reader, historical/societal period negative views of women, major supernatural elements, religious discussions along with Christian imagery & mentions of scripture, Ezra’s use of petnames, heavy corruption kink, possessive!Ezra, finger sucking, wound kissing and one small moment of blood consumption, Ezra lifts reader with his demon strength (reader has no physical description), intense kissing & spicy moments, f!oral receiving, light overstimulation, briefest mention of Ezra watching/stalking, sacrilegious themes, dark & spooky vibes

word count: 7.9k

a/n: so this is my first Ezra fic & i blame this AU on my ex catholic school kid roots along with playing too much cult of the lamb bcs here we are lol I wouldn’t be here without the ones who paved the way/inspired me to take the jump to write Ezra so thank you @morallyinept @julesonrecord & @lowlights for being true lovely guides, also to @pastelle-rabbit @haylzcyon & @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream/cry about this lol I love each & every one of y’all - and to you, if you decide to take a peek and read, thank you so much ♡

The forest stretches out far, daunting.

Twilight glimmers on the last of her heels and you hope to return home soon. You can almost hear your father’s anger at your stubbornness for not staying at the inn for another night and for simply being on this journey in the first place. You should’ve saved up for a carriage ride home.

Now, alone in the woods, you fear the tree branches will soon reach down to claw you into their canopy cluster above.

Deeper and further you walk through the forest path. You haven’t prayed much recently. But you faintly remember words urging you to not fear the terror of night, nor the danger that prowls in the darkness, and you’re gently eased. You also think of the early spring blooms scattered among the town waiting for you.

Then a branch cracks behind you, the sound of someone stepping on it, and you stop.

The trek has been silent, eerily so. Not even bird chirps or the wind’s breeze has filled your space. Yet it now sounds like something approaches.

You whip around.

No one stands behind you. Only the dirt and dust linger in the air.

The woods must be clouding you with unnecessary dread. You’ve walked these roads alone before and you will walk them again even though the forest seems darker now.

Determined, and slightly frightened, you spin on your heels to quickly return on your journey.

“There you are, turtle dove.”

The voice startles you so suddenly you almost collapse. Strangely accented, the thick drawl flows heavy with a twang of someone from the wild southern territories.

Your heart beats fast like a petrified rabbit and your eyes snap towards the source of the voice.

Leaning against a large tree is the most exquisite man you ever believe to be crafted.

Dressed in a striking coat, a beautifully sharp nose and dark facial hair, he’s ethereal. You also spot the most interesting tuff of white blonde hair against his dark chestnut locks. What’s startling are his magnetic inky eyes staring at you.

“I don’t know you, good sir.” You politely reply.

The man smiles like a fox creeping around a chicken coop.

“Ezra is my given name, turtle dove. Now we’re no longer strangers.”

His name - Ezra.

Like his name suggests you wonder if maybe he’s here to provide aid, your personal blessing.

Yet his words flutter out duplicitous and heavy like something dangerous chains around them down.

“Then good day to you, sir.” You nod, a polite reply, and decide to withhold your name.

“May I accompany you on your journey?” He suggests surprisingly gentle, his words olive branch-like offers.

You ask him where he is even headed, and for what brings a well speaking, slightly suspicious, man as himself into these woods.

“The same as you, sweet bird,” Ezra replies simply. “We all have our journeys to be upon. Mine just happens to coincide with yours. A rather fortuitous blessing if I do say so myself.”

Your eyes narrow. Something scratches at the back of your mind urging you to keep walking and pay no heed to this man.

But then the wind picks up.

From a soft breeze it quickly transforms into the strangest howl, like a warning of the dangers lurking all around. In a slight panic your eyes survey your surroundings. This man might be a stranger, but having company might not be such a bad choice.

“Come now.” Ezra comments reassuring and steady even among the howling winds. “These woods are wild and deep, ain’t no place for a treasure such as yourself.”

He is handsome, the most stunning man you may ever see. And the glimmer in his eyes seems to beckon you.

After you quietly nod, your journey expands by one.

With a gracious bow of his head, the man from the shadows falls into step beside you.

The wind suddenly, but thankfully, settles. However, tension prickles against your skin and a strange warmth blooms from the center of your chest.

“So, what’s a lovely angel like yourself doing here, a babe in the woods?” Ezra begins.

Your fingers tighten against your cloak while the truth stays sealed tight.

The man chuckles.

“Don’t go shy on me now, sweet dove,” he teases.

You huff annoyed. However, seeing as how you will be traveling with him until you return home, you decide to engage with him.

Your dearest friend moved to the next town when you both became fully grown. She fell in love with a married man in a loveless marriage to a cruel woman. Because of that your friend was condemned to banishment. Now, she’s with child. Some even whisper the child was maybe even convinced due to witchcraft.

However, with the recent passing of your town’s relentless head clergyman, you hope this will help improve the situation.

Ezra listens patiently, letting you quietly explain everything.

“And so you traveled to visit your dear friend like a kind emissary.” He notes. “Your town must be in an uproar over you visiting her.”

“They are.” You answer stiffly.

Your father absolutely detests it. Even the governor’s son, who has shown interest in courting you, has made it known that your lenient position doesn’t help towards a marriage possibility. But you won't falter in your loyalty. Especially after your faith has been so shaken from seeing the harsh treatment given to your friend.

“A fair decision.” Ezra agrees. “All those upset are fools anyway. Seems they forgot the good book even mentions how cherished a gift it is to forgive others just as the lord forgives us.”

He quotes scripture so passively it surprises you. He doesn’t seem like a spiritual type. If anything, Ezra seems like a man who slinks around the shadows late at night among the thieves and brothels hidden at the edge of town.

“You’re right,” you agree with him. “Who are we to judge others on simple matters of passion compared to our lord, especially to condemn it?”

“Lust is considered a grave sin though, dear birdie, so I understand why.” He quietly answers while his words scurry over your skin. “After all, look at the predicament it entangled your dear friend in.”

“And don’t passions of the flesh wage war against the solemnity of the soul?” Ezra politely answers lightly referring to scripture and you wonder if he is a man devoted to the good book.

So you reserve your words again.

“Please… do not silence your song, biride.” Ezra coos.

“Now, tell me your thoughts,” he whispers low.

As you swallow hard, your skin feels tight against your bones. But you decide to speak freely, as dangerous as it may be.

“It’s true that my friend committed a terrible sin.” You begin with a shaky sigh. “I understand her punishment. But for others to be so cruel when faith says to forgive and embrace salvation feels hypocritical.”

“True indeed. And as you said, all this for the sake of condemning passion? There are worse commandments to shatter under heaven’s watchful eye.” Ezra drawls out.

“Exactly.” You agree with a firm nod more at ease with your new companion.

“Besides… isn’t the act of creation an offspring of passion?” He challenges and the thought stuns you.

The stranger is correct and his perception moves you.

You’ve never engaged in such discussions like this with anyone before, especially not with a man. You noticed he speaks to you like an equal, never diminishing your ideals or fully trampling on your opinions.

Something greedy urges you to slow down your step and spend as much time with your new companion.

“So, is there a husband of yours waitin’ at home to meet you with passions, dear dove?” Ezra asks with the curl of intrigue in his voice and you almost choke on a gasp.

“A rather forward question to ask a stranger.” You snap back sharply and glare at him.

Ezra keeps his abyss eyes drawn forward and doesn't seem bothering at your reply or the discussion matter he brought up.

“Thought we established we’re no longer strangers?” Your stranger mutters back.

“We’ve discussed religion, the ways of the hearts and their passions. Only good friends touch on such topics, yes?”

He’s unbearably confident, and he knows it. You want to storm off, maybe even demand him to leave. But you can’t do it. You almost can’t endure the thought of him leaving now.

So you reply stiffly. “No. I have no husband at home.”

“Truly?” He now squawks confused.

“Ain’t that a damn shame.” He purrs. “A creature lovely as yourself deserves to be worshiped every minute you’re here among this green earth.”

Your heart thumps erratic against its cage.

“Are you mocking me, good man Ezra, for not being married?” You deflect with a shaky voice.

“Never, turtle dove.” He reassures. “I believe the ultimate sin is to be denied any shade of passion.”

“Especially for a beauty marvelous as yourself.” He exhales and his voice dances devilishly.

An uneasiness settles into your legs, like your body could give out at any moment.

“What you say is blasphemy,” you manage to reply, however your voice wavers. “A heathen's words.”

“I could’ve recounted the same about you moments ago when you spoke your thoughts.” He mutters back.

Your heart drops. He’s correct. This man has your thoughts tied up in so many knots and you cannot find a path within yourself.

“No need to worry.” Ezra says. “Treading into heathen’s territory is never frightful when you have a companion.”

You don’t know how you feel about this conversation or where it seems to be heading towards. Your gaze turns to Ezra. He continues staring ahead composed.

He’s a strange unorthodox man, an anomaly, someone you never believed existed.

“Now tell me… have you tasted desire, my sweet turtle dove?”

His eyes now move to you, catching you staring red handed. Like an exposed thief, your gaze flies away from him.

His question, as if composed of thorns, constricts around your throat refusing to let you answer.

You’ve tasted it on the tips of your tongue. One of your old childhood friends became a courtesan at a brothel. During her nights off, you’d sneak out to visit her. She recounted with giggles about the various sexual escapades she’s experienced. It made your mouth water wishing for the embrace of a lover, to understand what it meant to be truly desired.

You’ve been tempted to fall into bed with the blacksmith’s brother but once you discovered his cruel treatment of the women in town you were soured by the thought. So during the late nights alone your fingers slipped under the quilts and you would find a sticky taste of passion.

Getting caught up in your thoughts keeps you quiet.

“When I was a younger man and lived in France.” Ezra begins with a sudden gentle musing, the voice of a storyteller almost. “Even when I migrated here to the southern territories, I learned of an interesting turn of phrase.”

“La petite mort.” The words flow from him beautifully, rolled with such finessed precision. Hearing him speak sparks a jolt up your spine.

“I’m not quite sure you know of it, but do you know what it means?”

Your eyes that had glazed over are now back on Ezra. His devastatingly beautiful face remains serene.

“The literal translation is ‘a little death.’” Ezra continues. “But what it speaks of is the little moment of feeling as if you’re dying when experiencing true orgasmic release, something that makes us see god.”

His words, hanging with a thinly concealed desire, rip through you and a slickness slowly pools between your legs.

Now his eyes flicker to you.

“A pleasure so rapturous we taste a little death.” He mutters looking so intently at you that you want to scurry and hide away.

But you can’t. You’re drawn into his gaze, a poor moth entrapped by his erratic flame, and you’re not quite sure if this fire is hellfire.

Rationale within you screams this man could be a robber or could be leading you into his sticky web to simply harm you. Yet it seems like he could vanish into smoke.

You also notice you and Eza have both stopped walking. Now staring into his eyes, you discover storms in them.

Until an oncoming storm arrives all around. The wind erupts into howls. It whips around fast and you tug your cloak closer trying to stay warm against the gales.

Your face even scrunches up at the drastic change in the weather.

A firm hand moves to your back pulling you closer until you rest within the shade of a firm body. Ezra has drawn you into his side, lifting his cloak to cover you, and your eyes become full moons.

“To keep you sheltered from this weather. Though, we may need to hunt for some sanctuary soon.” He mutters.

He smells of pine, like the forest itself gave him to you. However you also catch the smallest hint of something smoky, like he slept too close to a campfire.

But, his words confuse you.

“Terrible weather? It’s simply just bad wind.” You yell against the wind and glance around the forest.

That’s when you notice how terrifyingly dark it’s gotten. The tree branches now stretch above like monstrous limbs crawling along the darkness.

How long have you been out along the trail? You haven’t even reached the halfway point to town. The woods now loom incredibly dark like a chasm ready to swallow you whole.

Then the drum of thunder comes, and the skies open up, as if on command by Ezra’s prophetic words. The rain unleashes a downpour. You squawk like a petrified bird at how soaked you’re getting even being covered by his coat.

“Come!” He cries over the storm keeping you close. “I believe there is shelter close by.”

So through the darkness you go, led by him off the path and deeper into the thicket.

How did he know a shelter was nearby? Shouldn’t he have come here earlier and left you on your journey? Or did he maybe sense the storm was coming and wanted to keep accompanying you.

The rush of the rain along with how quickly Ezra moves you and him feels as if you’re flying through the forest like your feet never once touch the ground.

Your body stops and out from the darkness, among the rain, stands the faint shape of a building.

Ezra guides you inside and you exhale relieved you’re out of the storm.

The stale smell of dust greets you first and makes your nose crinkle.

Looking out to your new makeshift shelter, you find yourself standing in a very abandoned church. Dried dead leaves scatter the floor. Vacant pews hold a hollow ghostly emptiness. You didn’t even know this chapel was here.

“How did you know of this place-” you turn to ask Ezra but discover you’re alone.

So focused on soaking in the church you didn’t even notice his departure.

“Ezra?” You call for him and silence replies.

Where could he have gone?

“Worry not.” Ezra’s voice floats out an echo. From the side of the sacristy, beside the main congregation hall, he emerges.

How did he get there without you noticing?

In his grasp is a lit candle. The flames create interesting shadows upon his handsome face as his molten eyes stare at you.

“Apologizes,” he reassured you with the ease of a saint. “Went to scavenge for some light.”

“Seems you were unsuccessful.” You dryly tease, walking towards where Ezra stands at the front of the congregation.

A slight tug of amusement comes over his heavenly face.

“We shall make camp here until the storm quells.”

No better place to find sanctuary than in a chapel, even though this one has seen better days.

Outside the wind continues rattling the windows while the rain creates a soothing melody. Yet, there is an emptiness here, like you can’t sense any sacred spirit within these walls. You wonder if the Lord maybe has even abandoned this space.

“Come rest with me, turtle dove.” Ezra beckons to you as he sits casually on the floor up besides the altar.

“You can’t sit there!” You whisper urgent.

“Why? Who is here to stop me?” Ezra counters with raised eyebrows and amused crinkled eyes.

“This is sacred ground! You can’t simply sit in the sanctuary like it’s some sort of encampment!” You argue.

“Biride,” Ezra begins. “This momentary shelter is merely a building. The same way all buildings are just simple creations of stone and labor.”

“Not buildings like this, especially when our lord resides here.” You reply like a dutifully faithful follower.

Ezra now sits up from his lax position to glance around. His eyes survey every inch of the space.

“You say our Heavenly Father is here. But tell me, turtle dove, do you sense his presence here?”

He noticed it too.

Your tongue becomes metal, heavy and bitter.

“Come,” he urges again, kinder now. “Rest. Your legs need their strength for the rest of your journey. It will be much more comfortable than those stuffy pews.”

You narrow your eyes at him, still hesitant. Defiant, you try sitting in one of the vacant pews only to find clusters of spider webs creating a slightly unnerving barrier. And you didn’t want to check every pew for availability. You were too tired.

Refusing to meet Ezra’s eyes you step past the pews, into the sanctuary, and delicately sit a small space away from your companion.

“See? Not so hard, and you didn’t even combust into flames sitting here.”

You glare at him while Ezra grins triumphant. Silence settles. But with a man who readily embraces the gift and curse of gab, it feels dangerous.

A small gurgle of a noise rumbles out and your face heats up horrified. You didn’t realize you hadn’t eaten this entire journey.

“A bit peckish, dear dove?” Ezra chuckles a smokey thing.

You’re about to grumble under your breath annoyed until he again peers around the abandoned church.

“Rather unfortunate there doesn’t seem to be any source of subsidence here.”

You quietly reassure him as you shift your cloak to reach for your covered satchel. Thankfully, your morsel of a wrapped loaf was spared from the rain.

“I have this for us to share.” You quietly announce.

Ezra gasps small but surprised.

“Divine goddess, you are salvation.” He breathes out.

“I am no goddess. No one person is divine in such a way.” You correct him.

The man hums. “If the maker created man in his image does that not mean we are shades of god in our own ways?”

Midway unfolding the bread out of the paper, you halt.

You never thought of it that way. It made sense. Slowly, it feels as if a wagon wheel is turning in your head leading you towards something you cannot reach.

“Sweet turtle dove,” Ezra calls to you. “Would you be so gracious and let me consecrate our feast?”

You’re stunned by the heartfelt request. This man seems to be a never ending labyrinth confusing you with no end in sight.

You slide closer to sit fully beside him. Readily you hand him the wrapped bread and try not to jump at his hand brushing yours. His skin is soft, warmed, and your knuckles tingle from the simple exchange.

“Thank you kindly.”

Now holding the bread in one hand, Ezra moves the other to lightly hover above the morsel. Closing his eyes in prayer, Ezra begins.

However, he mutters low and so fast that you can’t even catch a word of his prayer. You wonder if he even is saying anything or is simply mocking the form of prayer.

You’re about to chide him until he quickly finishes. Dreamily opening his eyes Ezra then simply breaks the bread into two.

“To break communion with someone lovely as you is an honor.” With a gracious grin, your stranger hands you a piece. You thank him with a soft mutter.

The storm continues its wrath and you arrive at a bleak conclusion. Your night will be spent here in this eerie abandoned church with this strange mysterious handsome man.

Resigning yourself to that, you sigh and take a bite out of the bread.

The bread was a simple one you got from the neighboring town’s bakery. It’s nothing special. You’ve even thought it rather stale at times.

However, the bread you taste now is indescribable.

It melts in your mouth, wonderfully soft and warm. There’s even the sweetest taste like a whisper of a fruit that reminds you of apples. An uncontrollable moan of satisfaction escapes you.

But your eyes widen realizing how you just acted.

Embarrassment floods you fast and you anxiously gaze at Ezra who smirks at you.

Unable to stare at him long, you turn back down to your lap. The bread looks exactly the same as it always does.

Is your mind so exhausted it believes this stale morsel now tastes this heavenly?

You must be imagining things.

Besides you, Ezra shuffles. Out of curiosity your eyes lift towards him and find the man shrugging off his coat.

He even removes his waistcoat to reveal his simple white slipover. Rain still lingers on his skin allowing the pristine white cloth to stick to him. Without the coat you’re given clear sight of his glorious neck.

A thought flutters into your mind.

You imagine sinking your teeth into his beautiful flesh and lapping up all the rain droplets.

Dread fills you.

How could you think such thoughts?

“Turtle dove,” Ezra’s voice shatters the silence almost making you jump.

“If you could create a world of your own, what would it look like?”

The question stumps you, even brings in a twinkle of curiosity. What would bring on such a question? You suppose it must be a way to break the silence and pass the time.

In thought, you hum a small noise.

“I think…” you quietly utter and let your thoughts flow.

You think of a world built on compassion, one without hunger or war, of one filled with peace and justice.

“And without sin, I suppose.” Ezra gently comments and your eyes turn to him.

He stares towards the ground with a peculiar look shadowed over his handsome face.

“Yes of course.” You answer. Sin is the root of all evil and corrupted humanity’s souls.

“What if I told you some sins are not all evil? And that what you long for, dear turtle dove, is not a world void is sin, but one free of guilt from it.”

Your face scrunches up a bit confused over his nebulous words.

“Should we not all live in indulgence?” Ezra adds, clarified in his words.

“Indulgence leads to corruption.” You reply parroting all the countless sermons that discussed this.

“If our creator didn’t want us to indulge, then why did he indulge in creating such a world so lush as this one?” Your stranger offers.

You try gathering a reply, thinking of all the lessons about how this world is meant to be seen in awe and appreciated. Not to indulge in. But now all your arguments seem to fall short, not even sound correct in your head.

Before you can press the discussion further Ezra leans closer towards you. Your thoughts and body become completely petrified.

You should lean away, lean back from his casual intimate movements.

But you can’t. Or, within the deep terror of your heart you know the truth. You don’t want to.

His thumb moves towards the corner of your mouth and you transform completely into stone.

Ezra’s ink eyes haze over while his thumb gently swipes against your skin.

“Crumbs.” He mutters, answering for his actions. Yet, his hand doesn’t leave.

You don’t shove him away or demand him to go. The downpour rattling the windows becomes the church’s only noise while you and this man sit in the stillness.

Ezra’s attention falls to your mouth.

His thumb now strokes the corner of your lips. You believe it’s to wipe more bread crumbs away. Then his thumb swipes across your bottom lip and a sharp inhale escapes you.

His eyes and yours find each other.

“You deserve to live in indulgence,” Ezra whispers deviously rich.

Your skin feels ablazed and your throat dries. Out of instinct or perhaps something darker you wet your lips. In that movement your lips press against his thumb and your tongue manages to swipe at his skin.

You’re rewarded the faintest taste of him, a crumb of his salty golden skin, and it’s like a thread slowly catches fire.

You want more, need it.

Possibly possessed now, your mouth opens up and simply slips more of his thumb into your mouth.

The moment the salty taste of him hits your tongue your eyes close.

Feeling his finger in your mouth against your tongue, against your teeth, is divine. His flesh must be coated with ambrosia because your mouth waters aching for more.

Heaven, or this must be a slice of it.

Until horror strikes you and you realize what you’re doing. Terrified eyes now open, you’re about to pull away and yelp horrified.

Ezra’s hand rapidly moves to cradle your face firm and slide his thumb deeper into your mouth.

“Oh my sweet bird,” he coos now closer to you. “You’ve tasted the pleasure I can give, the magic I can conjure. Don’t deny yourself this.”

His beautiful nose presses into the side of your face nuzzling against your skin and your eyes close. Bliss overtakes you.

“Now” his voice drops a dangerous lulling whisper. “Hollow your cheeks for me, and suck in.”

You do as told and the groan Ezra lets out vibrates deep past your skin. You even let out a whine.

You’ve heard the noises men make in the waves of passion, but this was decadent. You never knew a man could sound this beautiful.

You wanted to hear him even more. And knowing you did this to him? A syrupy drunken pride courses through you intoxicating.

You suck harder, allowing your tongue to caress his skin and Ezra exhales heavenly.

Before you can indulge any further, a creature screeches into the church and shatters the sensual spell. You shriek in terror and scramble. Wings furiously flapping come and out of reflex you cover your head.

Then a solid body collides into you and your world falls over.

You hit the floor of the sanctuary with a soft thud. It would’ve been a harder fall if not for Ezra’s hand cradling your head to soften the impact. Your eyes look up to find Ezra covering you, protecting you from whatever flew in.

Your heart thumps loud in your ears, a horrible drum drowning out your thoughts. His broad shoulders, firm frame, he really is a man crafted out of pure beauty and desire now that you’ve tasted his skin.

“Blasted bats… must’ve been nesting in here.” Ezra comments with a mutter while his eyes stay watching out.

Now you faintly hear the familiar chirps of the creatures. You hope they all leave soon or move to another area within the church.

Slowly the rustling settles. Ezra does not move from his post above you, a shield keeping you safe from the interrupting creatures.

His large hand cradling your head holds you gently but with a firmness that speaks of his control.

The strangest clash of sensations arrives. Like Eve awoken out of her blissful sin, you’re keenly aware of the cold clothes sticking to you. Particularly your wet cloak weighing on you sends a chill crawling up your skin making you squirm.

Ezra’s eyes slip back to you. The candlelight highlights the shadows of his face and his eyes seem deeper than before. Candlelight doesn’t even reflect in their abyss.

Until his obsidian eyes go wide in a slight panic.

“Your wing, turtle dove.”

Now confused you shift to lift your arm up. A small cut has ripped through your cloak and blouse sleeve. You didn’t even notice or feel it. Must have cut yourself on the old wooden floor below.

The church didn’t seem this dilapidated to have rotten wood floors. However, without upkeep, it only makes sense everything begins to splinter and decay. Thankfully the cut isn’t deep but dark crimson does stain the cloth.

“Oh,” you even mutter a bit stunned.

Gently Ezra shifts to help you up while being cautious of your wound.

“Are you in pain?” He asks, concerned.

“No.” You shake your head, truthfully telling him you didn’t even notice the cut.

Ezra delicately moves towards your arm. “May I?”

You nod quietly.

Gingerly, your mysterious stranger places his hands on you to further inspect your wound.

“It doesn’t hurt.” You reassure him.

Surprisingly, Ezra stays silent. His eyes remain on your arm. As if you’re an injured sparrow, he folds up your blouse sleeve delicately.

The faintest touch of his thumb strokes your bare skin and your throat constricts tight. This unknown mystery of a man tenderly touching you clutches at your soul.

“My creator, so heavenly in his wisdom,” he suddenly speaks low, like his voice is dipped in sticky honey. “Taught me this is how we heal wounds.”

Then Ezra draws your arm up and he leans down. And in that swift moment, he presses his lips to your wound.

A tender kiss.

Your breath hitches, tripping over itself. You indeed had his finger in your mouth moments ago. But this opens a chasm in you. Especially as you watch him lick away your blood at his lips

Then his lips return to your skin, on your wound, and it feels like devotion.

There were saints that kissed the wounds of your lord and now how angelic, reverent, Ezra’s face looks, you imagine him as one.

However, his lips start kissing all across your arm, quickly becoming greedy. Like a silent thief, he continues kissing up your arm with deliberate nips.

If he is a robber, this thievery is divine. You even squirm, squeezing your legs together because a slick wetness leaks between them. You wish to quell this burning urge to be touched.

Your mind only focuses on Ezra’s lips that you don’t even notice he unclasped your cloak until the heavy cold weight drops off you like shackles unchained.

However, an awful breeze across your skin makes you shrink back from the cold and snaps you into awareness.

You can’t do this with a man like this, a stranger.

A fanged piece of yourself urges you to simply give in, especially with a man not known in town. The internal struggle vanishes when Ezra’s breath tickles against your exposed neck.

“Do you wish me to stop, my turtle dove?” He coo’s. “I believe you deserve to taste this indulgence.”

“I don’t know you.” You croak out. Yet your voice doesn’t even sound convinced of your own resolve.

“Oh but you do.” Ezra pleads, his voice drenched in gilded desire.

“You know me.” He urges. “This is what you wanted. Your heart summoned me. I heard your call and here I am.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice cracks, an unsteady foundation.

“The hidden truths in your heart,” Ezra whispers and his breath dances upon your skin a ghost’s hymnal.

“The festering jealousy of knowing your dear friend found adoration, even out of sin…you wished to know of such delights. And your anger of this world for damning you to such solitudes, of being so constricting - it all called to me.”

Fear captures your heart. This couldn’t be true.

“Oh but it is,” Ezra answers you.

You don’t even know if you spoke those words aloud or if this man has now slithered into your thoughts.

“All those nights you longed for a lover,” he mourns sympathetically. “All alone with just your fingers in your sweet sex.”

You choke on air, gasping for some sort of relief from this terror drowning you.

“Oh and I’ve watched you for so long, my bird.” He bemoans. “Ached for so long to claim you mine.”

“You…you’ve seen me before?” You stammer.

“Indeed I have. I know you’ve partaken in sin. And the guilt you hold consumes you. Let me be your redemption,” Ezra continues with a pure temptation crawling from his voice.

You should be concerned at how this man has seen you before. Yet…With his mouth simply a breath’s pace away from you nothing seems to matter. Because your mind only wants him to kiss you, ravish you.

“You must say it, my angel.” He mutters.

Do you dare jump off the ledge and plunge into this molten fire?

A light terror runs across your skin, like hearing the hiss of a snake yet not seeing it. Something is afoot with Ezra. You can’t pinpoint it…

But you also wonder if this doubt is born from the chains of your faith holding you back?

“Ezra.” You mumble his name, a choked noise.

“I await your command.” The man reverently responds as if in a mass himself.

“Please….” You whimper out.

“Please what?” He murmurs and his twang clouds his voice even more.

“Please….touch me.” You croak while your voice trails.

It unleashes a monster.

Ezra’s lips dive onto your neck, kissing upon your skin with a possessed fervor. Even while sitting, the sudden rush of his lips, the scrape of his facial hair against you makes your body collapse.

It only allows for Ezra to sweep you into his arms.

Yanking his face away from your neck, you’re about to mourn the loss of him against your skin until his lips swoop in to consume yours.

You’ve kissed others before. In the hidden shadow of buildings after dark, you’ve even recently shared a kiss or two with the blacksmith’s brother a handful of times. They’ve been wonderful but secret encounters.

This however sets your soul on fire.

His tongue swiftly maneuvers into your mouth and now tasting him from the source, you never want to know a day without this, without him.

You moan, yanking at him closer, and try to slide your own tongue against his now. It’s messy, wet, a clash of bone and spirit but it’s delicious.

Sliding his arms under your legs, Ezra lifts you up with ease as he stands. You squeak against his lips, but then your eyes roll back when the man suddenly begins sucking on your tongue.

Your body feels like it will crumble at any moment.

That’s when you notice you’re being laid upon something cold and flat.

Wearily you find you do rest high upon something.

And now, the church is lit.

You panic looking around. The torches lining the walls burn with warm flames and illuminate the space in amber light.

How? Ezra did not leave you for one moment. Was there another here? And if so, how did you not hear them?

A warm calloused hand moves to cradle your face and your eyes snap to Ezra who peers down at you with smoke filled eyes.

“Don’t fret, my dove. We are only here.” He reassures, leaning down to kiss you again and your eyes shut once more.

“And if you’re not simply focused on me, then I’m not doing this correctly.” He mutters against your lips.

A wanton drunkenness comes with how consuming he kisses, especially as his mouth pulls from your lips to lick against your jaw.

He hums a satisfied groan.

“Oh my darling turtle dove, you were born to be worshiped by me weren’t you? And I blessed to simply be your devout disciple.” A revered holiness oozes thick from his voice.

“Let me venerate at your holy temple.” Ezra exhales against your throat kissing your feverish skin.

This is more than you can handle. It’s tremendous. It’s too much, yet not enough. It’s building something just out of your grasp, a flame that can’t be extinguished and scorches so fierce.

Blinking out of the haze, you find instead of being beside you, Ezra, like magic, now stands by your feet.

His hands slide up your legs and yank you closer towards him.

A yelp of surprise squeaks out from you. Any other noise or thoughts get swallowed up when Ezra’s hands snake under your skirt and up your legs.

Your eyes close under the sensation of his calloused warm hands.

“Do you know what true sacrifice cleanses sins?” Ezra asks with gravel in his voice.

“Hm?” You mumble, unable to create a response with how wonderful his fingers feel caressing your thighs.

“It’s to offer up one’s life. That’s the ultimate form of sacrifice.”

His words terrify you. Is he insinuating what you think he is? Are you to be made a lamb to slaughter because of the desire consuming you?

“Shh…” Ezra notices your worry and soothes you, rubbing gentle circles on your skin.

“Fear not, my dove. For I shall bring you redemption just as you’ve brought me mine.”

Slowly, he hoists your leg up and your eyes widen. He shifts to stand between your legs. Keeping his gaze on you, the mysterious man kisses your calf, a calming balm that also ignites a heat brewing in you again.

“Tell me,” Ezra asks, speaking into your skin. “Has anyone tasted you…here?”

Suddenly his fingers graze against your sex and warmth floods your face at just the thought.

You heard of such a thing from your friend at the brothels. However it was a rare occurrence, almost seemed mythical.

“No.” You breathe out.

“Shame.” Ezra mumbles. “All for me I suppose. A wonderfully ripe peach, all mine to consume.”

His inky dazed eyes flicker to yours.

“Will you let me take you to heaven, my lovely? May I swim in your ocean and taste your pearl?” Ezra offers like a man asking for your atonement.

The terminology is not missed on you and lust crashes in a dizzying tidal wave.

Quietly, swallowing thick, you nod yes.

Pride grin tugs at Ezra’s lips and his eyes twinkle like a creature lurking out from the woods.

Softly closing his eyes, he returns to kissing your skin. Except this time he moves up your leg with a purpose -

Like he’s on a holy pilgrimage.

Almost bewitched you watch him kneel down and push up your skirt to reveal your under garment. It’s a sight you want seared into your memory.

Then Ezra presses forward and kisses your covered sex. A gasp rips wild from you and your eyes roll back.

With a fast rip, Ezra takes apart your undergarments. Bare to him, his tongue then licks against your cunt and the most debauched sound you never knew you could even make escapes you.

“Do you enjoy? Wish me to continue?” You don’t know how Ezra’s voice swirls around you, a caress in the whispering wind, but you nod frantically.

“Ezra please… more.” You whimper.

And he does as you command.

Ezra pulls you apart with a wet devotion and frenzy that feels like you’re being devoured. He’s feasting on you.

You whine, even slap a hand over your mouth to silence how loud you’ve become when he sucks hard on the pearl of your sex.

“No.” He mumbles wet within your molten heat. “Let me hear you, my lovely.”

You don’t deny him after that.

The storm now rages outside, violently ramming into the windows. It mixes with the cries of your pleasure ripping through you.

When your climax arrives and knocks you out of this realm, you scream Ezra’s name while your legs shake.

“Beauty divine,” Ezra sighs, devout and borderline drunk.

Breathing down from your high with your back fully now flat against the floor surface, it hits you.

You’ve been lying on the chapel’s altar this entire time.

The offering is you. You indeed are the sacrifice, one of vitality. The throne of ecstasy is a form of life…

And did Ezra not tell you passion is also a tiny death itself as well?

Before you can gather this, Ezra dives back into you again and you squirm unbelieving this man can want more. He’s a man possessed like he’s trying to consume you from the inside out, devouring you until he reaches your marrow.

“Ezra.” You whimper. It borders too much, but you also don’t want this to stop.

“Let me feast, my dove.” He growls back and you catch it.

Ezra’s voice sounds distorted, fluttering between his twang and now a jagged danger sounding monstrous.

Wearily, trying to stay aware among the heat of building rapture, you exhaustedly lean up.

Between your legs Ezra is a sinful sight. His broad shoulders keep your thighs open as his tongue dips into the caverns of your cunt. You melt, unable to keep your eyes open.

But you want to watch him, want to remember this for as long as you can.

Especially now that the storm rages all around. You even wonder if the decaying church’s roof might be ripped off.

So your eyes open.

From between your legs, Ezra glances up.

His mouth stays stuck to your sex, except his eyes are completely hollowed out.

Drenched in darkness, like ink spilled entirely into them, they’re unholy and inhuman.

A scream rips from you but you can’t tell if it’s born of fear or pleasure. Or maybe both have blended together.

Your hips rise galvanized more and more, unable to stop their grind into his lips. Ezra’s grip keeps you secured and grounded.

Yet the sensation of sharpened nails now scrape against your skin.

You discover there are indeed claws, gruesome and monstrous claws, that form Ezra’s hands and arms.

“What- what are you?!” You sob.

Ezra hums and peers up at you.

“Salvation, my lovely. Yours and mine.”

A second orgasmic high hits and from the overwhelming pleasure your vision goes white. You wonder if this is heaven.

Or perhaps it’s hell.

Maybe you have died.

You should scream in terror or pray for absolution. But it’s so hard when this tastes so incredibly intoxicating, a most potent elixir.

As your body crumbles back against the altar, the overstimulated sensations become numbing, fogging your mind. Your eyes flicker up to the ceiling of the chapel.

You cannot find your god anywhere in the shadows.

The back of Ezra’s clawed hand gently strokes your cheek.

So tired, barely able to stay awake, your exhausted gaze flickers to him.

Those eyes of his, dark chasms of hell, should be soulless. But instead he looks at you with utmost tenderness.

The blazing lights of the church cast a warm glow outlined around Ezra, almost like a halo.

It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful in the terrifying way a fire is.

The mystery known as Ezra suddenly whispers out your name and you realize…

You never once gave it to him this entire time.

He is the last sight you see before your vision finally falls into the darkness.

When you awake, you’re among your quilts and bed.

You’re home.

Rapidly you look around so confused. How did you end up here? Was it all a dream?

“You’re awake!” Your father cries relieved and rushes to your side.

He thankfully answers all your questions.

You had arrived the morning after the storm. However, you hadn’t been alone.

“You had fallen ill on the road.” Your father explains. “But, thanks be to God, the new pastor sent to our town discovered you and carried you home.”

Now you’ve been resting ever since.

Had that experience been a fever dream, a temporary temptation conjured from your heart’s dark desires?

That had to be a dream, one brought on by your sudden sickness. So you rest and stay in bed for most of the day. From your window you admire the beautiful clear skies, the wonderful weather, and wildflowers growing so lovely.

You also notice your arm is completely healed, like you were never cut to begin with.

Midafternoon, a knock arrives at the door.

Your father calls your name. “Someone here to visit!”

Your mind sorts through all the possibilities of who is here to see you. You never expected your dearest friend to enter in with tears in her eyes. Overjoyed emotion washes over you as she rushes to embrace you.

“How can this be?” You hiccup, wiping away the tears. She was rarely allowed back home, especially now with her early pregnancy.

“The new pastor,” she smiles wide. “So holy and forgiving, he spoke to the judges and they are all redetermining a new sentence for me.”

You almost whisper out a prayer of thanksgiving. You hoped in your heart this would happen. She doesn’t stay long, wanting you to rest and you urge her to do the same.

By twilight another knock at the door arrives.

“Seems we are quite popular today.” Your father teases out from the main quarters.

Then he exclaims in excitement at seeing who’s arrived.

“Oh we are so blessed to have such a considerate clergyman coming by to visit!”

The new pastor. You’re beyond interested to meet this man and now you will.

When your father enters your room, Ezra waltzes in behind him.

Fear seizes your soul.

No. It couldn’t be.

This must be a man that looks like him down to his beautiful sharp nose and white patch of hair.

“Pleasure to see you again and under better circumstances.” Ezra’s clear twang rings out low and twinkling within your room.

Your heart rages rapidly and wild.

“Don’t look so terrified.” Your father chides soft but you still can’t believe this sight before you.

“Might I have a moment of solitude with your dear offspring?” Ezra asks with all the humility of an apostle.

Your father readily agrees, shutting the door behind him.

Now in the confines of your room Ezra slowly saunters towards your bed, a creature approaching its prey.

He exalts your name on an exhale.

You try to speak, but nothing comes out and Ezra moves to kneel beside your bed. His eyes twinkle with patient and pious understanding.

“Shh…no need for words, my dear turtle dove.” He quietly soothes you.

So many emotions clash in you, a tremulous onslaught you can’t handle.

“Have you come to kill me?” Fear manages to escape your lips and Ezra’s glorious face drops.

“Oh no, my beloved birdie. I’d never lay a hand on you with any violence or killing intent.” He reassures, a tender caress. “I’m here to free you. For us to set everyone free…did you not hear of what I did for your dear friend?”

His hand graciously cradles your cheek.

You should be terrified this man, this creature, is here. But you’re not.

Instead consuming relief and dangerous glee fills you. He is real. It was real.

Your hands clasp onto his and you hate how much you lean into his touch

Ezra leans forward and places a kiss against your forehead.

“What are you?” You ask barely above a whisper.

“The shadow of an angel, perhaps a monster to some.” He replies back. “But yours, nonetheless”

And you want him to be yours.

This is wrong to feel so greedy, to want a creature this dangerous. But were demons not once angels who deserved forgiveness and love?

So shifting your face you turn and place a kiss against Ezra’s palm.

Now when you hear the sermons, when you hear Ezra preach, you will think of Eve with sympathy because you understand.

You too fell for the serpent.

After all, evil never looks so beautiful as it does holding you. And desire never tasted so divine, never felt so holy.

Outside your window, the wildflowers begin to rot and the sudden rumble of a thunderstorm rolls in.

#sorry my ex Catholic school ass jumped out in this one & I need to go bathe in holy water now holy shit #anyway me and demon Ezra love you very much #ezra x reader #demon!ezra #ezra x f!reader #ezra (prospect) fic #ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra 🤎#pedrostories

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