#aster church

[zebricord]

For as much as I am constantly thinking about my OC's, I haven't been DRAWING THEM. WELL NO MORE. TAKE MY SWEET PLATONIC SOULMATES!!!! YOU WILL LOOK AT THEM!!!!

[bananasofthorns]

“Shit” for the wip game?

this word is also surprisingly scarce in my wips. this fic is not actually active right now, but it is for a character (Aster) some other wips are about, so I'm counting it.

“Um,” Roslyn says, even higher-pitched than usual, which draws everyone else’s attention to the notice board she’s staring at. “Is that—?” “Starling?” Alexsander finishes, incredulous. Candy looks over their heads and feels her eyes widen. They all move closer to study the wanted poster that, sure as shit, looks like the kid that had travelled with them for six months all those years ago, except he doesn’t look like a kid anymore. The wanted poster is dated to over a year ago, which means Starling would’ve been around twenty when - she looks again at the listed crime and feels her eyebrows rise higher - he stole from the Church of the Blood Sheep.

this is from the pov of an adventuring party/group of thieves Aster travelled with for about six months when he was 15-17ish. he was going by Starling when he was with them

[sasster]

Hi Ailzea, can I ask what all the functions your church provides are? I know it does schooling and religious things but is there other stuff?

"Yes, financial aid and housing among other things. I may bore you with the list."

[ruthimages]

[weyrleaders]

yall have no idea how pumped i am for more orla in that update because now i can Write

[satohideo]

ASTERISM - Church (Live in Studio) Composer: ASTERISM Arranger: ASTERISM

[bara-izu]

☼Personality | Family | Diety | Relationships ☼

v Full profile under cut v

☼ Personality ☼

A gentle giant, Halion prides himself on his ability to defuse situations through constructive conversation, only using violence as a last resort. (*Cough* With the exception of some big bad nasties who dont deserve a chance...*Cough*)

In an ideal world, he believes power should be used to protect those in need, and while not everyone shares this idology, he will ensure his own strengths will do just that.

Although Halion may seem naive on the surface, he just likes to see the best in everything, desperately trying to keep a positive spin on things - for his own sanity... He hopes this positivity can be a beacon of light for others, though it can be a detriment to himself, hiding his own anxieties to keep up a smile...

Behind his cheerful disposition, he also had a devious sense of humor, he also understands that sometimes, feigning ignorance, makes it easier to get what you want....sometimes....

Gorgeous template by: Arcandoria

☼ Family ☼

Born in Elturel, Halion was raised by his adoptive parents; his half-elf father, a quiet, mild mannered scholar, and his Dwarf mother, a loud, cheerful jeweler in the city of Candlekeep. Growing up in the fortress of knowledge, the young teifling was surrounded by stories documenting the achievements of heroes past, filling him with an desire to join them one day.

At the age of 7, the family moved to Baldur's Gate, his parents retiring to focus on themselves and raising their child. Halion still has a very close relationship with his parents, with of course them being the first people he went to check on after arriving back in the city.

☼ Diety & Paladin Oath ☼

While his parents aren't particularly devout, during his younger years, still attached to stories of powerful and heroic characters, Halion looked to the Gods that inspired them, in hopes that he could channel their goodwill.

Growing particularly fond of the MorningLord, Lathander, Halion aspired to become a Paladin under the 'Order of the Aster', some of the highest ranking knights in the clergy. However, as he grew older, he began to understand that The Order, much like many others, were far too militarian and heavy handed for his liking. While he was still determined to train and protect those around him, Halion had detached himself from the church as an institution, to follow his own head and heart.

'Sunblaze' is not his surname, but a title given to him when he first took up his Oath. While he no longer follows the group he got the title from, he still holds it dear.

☼ Relationships ☼

!!! ENDGAME SPOILERS MARKED IN RED!!!

☼ Shadowheart:

Like a sister to him. While he found it difficult to navigate around her spikey exterior at first, he soon found a little banter and trust goes a long way. He felt an great smpathy for the way her desires to be a dark justiciar fizzled out after the events with the Nightsong, and while not as dramatic, could related to his aspirations with the Aster Order.

After the events with the Netherbrain, she has been invited to stay with his parents, himself and Astarion for as long as she wishes, while they find a new place to settle.

☼ Gale:

From their first meeting, the two got along incredibly well. Sharing their hunger for knowledge, the two would share whatever books they had collected along the way. Unfortunately, this also lead to a little bit of misunderstanding...And while Halion was very excited to learn about the weave, he couldn't quite read the signs... And was severely embarrassed when he had to turn gale down... It took some time but after they were able to go back to being friends.

After the events of the Netherbrain, Gale left following an argument about the crown... Halion is still sad about this and hopes to eventually make contact with him again, wherever he may be...

☼ Astarion:

Starting on a bad note, Halion found it hard to understand him at first. But despite his grumbles Astarion stayed with the group, which lead him to understand his prickerly behaviour was similar to Shadowhearts- in a form of self preservation. Similarly to the events with Gale, Halion didn't quite read the mood (or pass the insight check...) and was swept up in Astarion's manipulations, thinking they had formed a close bond...

However, after the encounter at Moonrise, Halion suggested they start again, as friends first. in a 'I know we both have feelings, but i think you have more important things on your mind' kind of way, reassuring him he'd still be there.

It was only after the conclusion of events with Cazador did the pair start again.

After the final events with the netherbrain, Halion swore to continue to search for a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again. Along with shadowheart, the trio are currently relocating his parents first before they continue their adventure.

[peterspinkrobe]

Temptation | Priest!Miguel O’Hara x femreader [part 4]

W/C: 7,1k+ Go read the other chapters

Warnings/Rating: 18+. Religious content. Some Spanish. [smut spoilers ahead lol] ~~~~~~~~~~~ Reader has a vagina. Oral (f receiving). Some overstimulation. That’s all, babe.

A/N: so so so sorry it took so long. Thank you for your patience. I got real wrapped up in the chapter and work has been working me. Looking up flower symbolism and shit. Also, turns out the Bible has smut too. The scripture quoted throughout is from Song of Songs 4-7. Let me know what you think. Pic is something I found on Google (shame)

The chill of the evening air reminded the two who stepped into it that August was bleeding into September. Change was in the wind that carried hues of summer - fluttering down from trees that were shedding their warm colors for leaves of yellow, red, and orange gradients. The sun set earlier day by day as autumn approached the little town hidden in the Catskills mountain belt.

As the sun buried itself deeper into the horizon, it cast an expanse of purples and blues on the clouds above the two making their way into the courtyard behind the church. The pair stole away, silently sneaking out a side door, while the others enjoyed their supper inside. They were accompanied only by the statues of winged angels frozen in time - pouring bowls of abundance into the garden.

Wildflowers burst from patches along the walkways as the tall man guides the follower to a bench situated beside a maple tree. He ducked to avoid the overhead branches as he sat down and invited the other to join him there.

Wild Asters sprouted on either side of the bench in large clusters, long stems shooting up petals of white and red. The one still standing admires the stark contrast between the backdrop of the natural world and the seated one’s black clothes and collared neck. No words have been exchanged since they stepped into the open air but the silent invitation of the large hand patting the open space made the other feel tingles, nonetheless.

The black clad man kept his hands in his lap and shot sideways glances at the one beside him. Their nerves caused them to bounce their knees rapidly. The silence and their nervousness was too much for the man to bear. He wanted to calm them down and reassure them that all was well. He placed his large hand on the other’s knee, halting the bobbing leg. The sudden touch caused them to look up at him into the stormy dark eyes that showed nothing but concern and curiosity. He spoke their name and the song brought them back to Earth.

__________________________________________

“Your confession last-” the deacon began, but was interrupted by your nervous apology.

“I’m so sorry that you had to hear all that. I am so embarrassed and I understand if you think I shouldn’t come here anymore. The last thing I want to do is get you in trouble or-.” This time you are interrupted by that large hand squeezing your leg gently. You look down and see the long-sleeved black dress shirt rolled up to his forearm, the muscle there too tight for it to roll up any further. The veins in his arms protrude and you trace one with your eyes that trails up his arm to the back on his hand. His palm envelopes your kneecap and the long fingers create a cage around the joint. You swallow your words and silently curse the clothes separating skin.

“Please… let me finish.” He brought his other hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sounded strained, as if he had to get the words out or he would burst. Like the things he had to say were compacted in his skull and caused pressure to build between his eyes. You fell silent again and your eyes darted between the scrunched lids of his eyes.

“Ever since your confession I have been wanting to speak with you. I tried calling after you that day but I know I must have scared you.” Fear wasn’t the primary motive for hauling ass out that church as much as it was shame, but you didn’t want to interrupt him. “And then you weren’t here on Sunday… I realize after your confession that you’re only really here for your mother, but I so wished you were here that day so we could talk face to face.” He continued slightly solemnly.

“I hated that we didn’t get to speak on your struggles further and we weren’t able to close the confession as you deserved. You need to know that I hold no judgment towards you - that session was between you and Him. Everyone's path is different and faith isn’t cookie cutter.” He was so impassioned that when his eyes finally met yours again they lit up with excitement in his explanation.

“I owed a fellow man of the church a favor and I took over his confession shift that day last week. The fact that you came to confession that day… on that day of all days. To you all that may seem serendipitous or coincidental, that you felt that strange urge to release those doubts on the day that I was in the booth, but we in the business like to call that ‘God’s Timing’.” The worry and stress seem to melt away as he talks about your interaction in the booth, very different from the reaction you were expecting. His eyes brighten when you, him, and God are being mentioned in the same breath. He becomes more animated and gestures to the expanse of nature around the two of you.”You were meant to go there that day and say those words, I was meant to be there to hear them, as we are meant to be here now in this garden.”

His chest rises and falls from the excitement he feels. He was certain that this is what is felt to be overcome with the Spirit as he had seen in other churches. For the words to fall out without filters and not hold back the faith. When he lowers his eyes to yours again there is a soft smile in them that matches the one slightly stretching his lips.

“I don’t care if you don’t believe in what I preach,” He says this suddenly and his smile slowly fades into something more serious. “It doesn’t bother me that we don’t share the same faith in Christ.”

Heavy pause follows the revelation and you dare not interrupt him, giving him the time to express himself as he did for you in the booth. The setting sun shines rays into his eyes and they reflect back deep amber irises. Their brilliance bounces across your face like he is studying every inch of it - as if your countenance were a difficult passage in Numbers to interpret.

When he speaks again, you find that you aren't as drunk in the music of his voice. The notes are grounding and almost meditative.

“But what worries me is that you don’t share the same faith in yourself that I do. That you don’t see yourself as worthy of blessings when you are a blessing yourself.” The light chill in the air can’t keep the heat from creeping up your chest and neck. His tone became lighter as he went on.

“You are more than deserving of good things. I know our internal thoughts make us feel otherwise, but I need you to know that what they say to you isn't the truth. We all have personal demons that make us question ourselves.” He tilts his upper half more towards you and his large shoulders jut against the backdrop of maple branches and stirring leaves.

Slowly, so slowly, he slides his hand centimeters up your leg so it’s resting more on your thigh.

“I must also confess that I…” He inhales sharply and releases the words with his exhale, “I’m fighting against every urge in my body to maintain myself when I’m around you.” His brows furrow lightly as his other hand comes to cup your chin again, like he had that first time you’d met. The voice is now the smoky room of a jazz club reverberating lowly in the small distance between the two of you.

“Trying to uphold the principles that have nearly been beaten into me when you are in the same room,” he starts to lean in, “you don’t even have to be in the room, mí vicio, for temptation to threaten the sanctity of my profession.”

He tenses ever so slightly, you feel and hear the hesitation in his touch and voice.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or abuse my position..” he starts to pull his hands away, but you quickly grab his hand on your leg and grip his wrist to hold him there. His eyes widen at your response and his mouth hangs open slightly. A pointed canine dipping into his plump bottom lip as you move his hand to cup your cheek.

He brings his face to yours and looks into your eyes again before his stubborn raising escapes his lips, attempting to put his faith before pleasure, “Tell me to stop… tell me we can’t do this.” He presses his lips together and turns his head away a little. The anguish in the words makes you think he might crumble from the war in his mind.

You respond by closing the rest of the gap and pressing your lips onto his cheek. There is an evening shadow of hairs that poke into the soft kiss. He brings his eyes forward to lock back with yours and your noses bump together. Your breathing mixes and his shoulders rise and fall heavily and it seems as if he’s bracing himself with the grip on your leg. The temptation of just being close to you causes his lips to tremble.

“I don’t think you’ll burn in hell if we kiss,” you try to lighten his tension some and he does chuckle as you feel the shaky breathing on your cheeks.

“Funny.” He quips, but he doesn’t say aloud that he’s already burning. His insides are on fire at the feeling of you in his hands. He knows his soul is doomed if fantasy is enough to condemn. He’d burn for the images he’s pictured of you, the positions his imagination puts you in, and for the way his body is reacting to your permissive responses now. The fact that you want this as much as him makes holding back more difficult.

The anticipation that hung from your pout was too much for him and he whispered to himself before pulling your chin up and kissing you.

Just a press of lips against lips. They brushed against each other as your noses moved to accommodate for the space removed. That first kiss was brief, an innocent expression of the brewing affection between you. Yet, it was laden with complex emotions. A small jolt of electricity sparks from Miguel's chest at the kiss and his heartbeat echoed like a drum in his chest.

He was taken aback at how the simple, sweet kiss had made his head spin and when your lips parted he saw your eyes reflecting desire in their haze. Your eyes closed again and allowed your lips to guide the way.

The two of you traded little pecks and pleasure courses through his body. His hand from your knee now held your right hip and the cupped palm now snaked behind your neck and held your head to his as he deepened the kiss. It was harder to hold back as the deacon’s lust, his want, his desire, was too strong. He peaked down through slitted lids at your hands holding the chest of his shirt in fists and grunted against your closed mouths.

Unadulterated passion overwhelmed him and he poked the tip of his tongue to your lips in request. In those cold showers he had taken to try and control his thoughts, he had instead sinfully prayed to feel the inside of your mouth with his tongue, his fingers, and his currently tented dick. Your receptiveness made him nearly whine when you opened your lips in invitation. The buzz in his brain made him lose his inhibitions as he greedily licked into your mouth. He explored your slick cheeks and your tongues clashed together in their first meeting.

As your tongues danced between your mouths, you found that you were the one having to pull away for breath. Father Miguel’s face had reddened from lack of oxygen since he was prioritizing kissing you inside of breathing. His eyes would open halfway, his eyebrows would knit together in a pleading manner, and his pursed lips were swollen when you pulled away. Strands of his dark hair dangled into his forehead. The desperation on his face and in his grip on you was certainly a sight to behold. It was alluring that he was so affected just by kissing, you imagined just how sensitive he must be. It would be a lie to say you weren’t also feeling warmth pool in your belly at the exchange of kisses. You held his face in your hands and your bodies pressed against each other when he wrapped his arms around you. His voice dripped with yearning as he spoke:

“Let me show you how worthy you are…”

The words were a whisper in the wind, a secret kept by the rustling leaves, but they held a vow he intended to uphold.

_______________________________________

Getting away from your mother was surprisingly easy. She was wiped from cooking and everyone was shooing her home, telling her they would handle the clean up. The only real clean up was from the dishes they had dirtied as she had done most of the kitchen keep up as she cooked.

You should’ve been tired too but your mind still whirred from the excitement earlier. The promise of another rendezvous had you eager to volunteer in the clean up. Your mother looked at you again with pride when you told her to go on ahead and that you’d meet her home later after finishing here. If only she knew your true intentions.

Getting Father Miguel away from his parish was another story. You were washing your hands in the kitchen sink as the last of the trash was being taken out. Discretion was attempted as you stole glances at him helping others with their things and wishing them a blessed evening. At one point he catches your eye and his conviction nearly crumbles, but to you he maintains his composure. He gives you the aforementioned signal of a nod and shaky smile and you dry your hands before excusing yourself from one of the church members on your street. You make it seem as though you’re leaving for the night, but head towards the opposite end of the hall when the dining room door closes behind you.

You try to keep your nerves together as you enter the room on the far left end. You try not to think about Father Steen’s name on the door. You try not to hear the innocent farewells and blessings from the other side of the church. You try to look away from the surrounding symbols of sacrifice for sins you were actively committing. You try to calm yourself and your racing mind as you settle in the chair opposite to the one at the desk.

Curiosity temporarily overtakes your other worries when you crane your neck to see the pages that are open on the desk in front of you. It’s obvious what book it is but it’s hard to tell what chapter given it’s upside down, eleven size font, and single-spaced.

You don’t notice the noise completely dying down in the other room as you scan the office. You’ve never actually been in this office so you don’t know what belongs to Father Steen or the deacon. You do recognize the Catholic vestments that were worn by the elder but there was one you hadn’t seen that was separated from the others.

You could tell as you approached that it was much more fancy than the humble ones worn by either of the church heads. Its red satin underside was soft and silky against your inquisitive, yet careful, fingertips. The emerald green top portion was trimmed and detailed in intricate golden lacework. Embroidered red and white flowers weaved with golden stems and darker woven patterns accentuated the colors even further. It was sturdy and seemed handmade as you held the matching stole that hung from the hook beside it.

A knock on the door brought you back to reality and you murmured a ‘come in’. Funny how he was knocking to come into his own office.

He opened the door and walked through the threshold - the top of his head not even an inch away from the frame of the door. He saw you standing by the robes and smiled. He approached you and looked at the robe with you, feeling the fabric himself.

“This chasuble is a Spanish cut. It came from the priest that ran an orphanage in the city and it was a gift to me when he passed.” There’s reverence in his voice as he explains the importance of the robe, and the true weight of the words doesn’t go unnoticed to you. There’s still so much you didn’t know about him.

“Obviously it’s way too fancy for regular service but I always carry it with me. Bring it out for weddings and Easter. Best part? It’s got pockets.” You share a laugh as he wiggles his fingers in a hidden pouch along the inner lining on the front of the robe. He wiggles his eyebrows as well making you laugh more. The sound of it makes him beam at you and you can’t help but feel whiplash from the range of expression he’s given in such a short time.

From a near blubbering mess just from your lips, to this coy attitude now after congregating with his congregation. That tingle returns to your gut at his confident smile and you think of what was going through his mind when you left to come into the office. Did he watch you leave as he shook hands and embraced his newfound flock? Did he feel any impatience with the others who hung on his words? Did he have a change of heart and is attempting to let you down gently? You understood that this was a big No-No in his vocation… maybe post-kiss clarity and being surrounded by the ones trusting his judgment was making him have second thoughts.

Your doubts cause you to speak up, unfortunately spoiling the upbeat mode but you had to make your concerns known.

“I don’t want to make you do something you’ll regret.” His smile fades at the comment as you continue, “you could lose your job.”

He turns towards you from the garments you were admiring.

“Think of the consequences…” you stamper as listens to you, “you could lose the influence and respect you have amongst your fellow brothers in preisthood.” You brace yourself on the chair behind you as you slowly back up past it. He follows you closely.

“Breaking your vows would be a sacrilege.” Your back hits the desk but the deacon still approaches you. “You could be cast out.”

His hands are on your hips and face and your breathing quickens as he leans in, his voice a husky whisper, “For a nonbeliever, you’ve really done your research.”

You know his cocky demeanor is only temporary; when you start kissing again he’ll be back to incoherence. It doesn’t stop you from blushing up at his towering frame.

“Are you sure you want this? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…” he says and starts to pull away as he had before, so careful not to overstep. Again you put your hands on his chest and it takes everything in you not to squeeze the muscular pecs stretching the front of his shirt.

“I want this. So badly. What I don’t want is you feeling guilty. I know what I want but I also know what is right. I don’t want to be the cause of any turmoil or strain in your spirituality. I’ve caused too much wrong to be the reason you break sacred vows important to you.” You both cling to each other against the desk.

“How could I regret this?” He asks so quietly it’s like he’s asking himself, or silently asking God. “Are matters of the heart to be ashamed of?” The storm in his eyes brewed at the idea of even having to explain himself and his feelings to someone above him in the church. For a man who has never been married, never seen God in the loving embrace of another, to try and tell him what love couldn’t be. How could he be expected to turn away from the act of God placed before him now? How do those in the church not see that to love Him, to truly flourish in His image, is to cherish and admire His other creatures? He scans your face and the hand there moves to gently hold your hands on his chest. How badly he wished to banish any doubt clouding your mind.

“I don’t know how else to explain it other than I have developed a deep connection and affection with you and I wish to learn more, so much more.” His breathing is slightly ragged and you feel the rise and fall under your hands. “Your confession, if you still feel the same, makes it nearly impossible for me to deny this anymore.”

“I cannot deny my feelings and continue to serve the church in a capacity that forbids me from you.” You’re speechless at the words and the abrupt honesty. “I’m making these decisions with my eyes wide open.”

“Deacon, I-“ you begin, but he cuts in to say,

“Please, call me Miguel. Not sure how much longer I’ll be a Deacon after this gets out…” He can’t hold back now that you’re alone so he kisses you because he can. Because there is nothing to hold him back from doing so, and your lips feel so good pressed to his. Hearing you say his name causes a low groan to come from his throat and he parts when you frantically protest against his lips.

“What do you mean? No, no one can know! Not yet… oh my god what would my mom think?! She’d believe I corrupted you, and I have, haven’t I?” Your nervousness and the fact that you were more afraid of the judgment from your mother than that of God Almighty made him chuckle again as he nuzzled into your neck and laid kisses up to your ear.

“Corruption and change are not the same. You have brought about a change in me. While I no longer feel I am the same man I once was before meeting you, I am happy for it.” He moves a hand slowly up your back to cradle your head and he feels like King Solomon taking his Queen to bed in Song of Songs as he kisses your neck.

Your neck is like the tower of David,

built with courses of stone;

on it hang a thousand shields,

all of them shields of warriors.

“Please,” He whispers into your ear and takes the lobe between his lips in a tease, “let me reveal my devotion to you.”

Your only response is your fingers entwining in his hair and a gasp, but it’s enough for him to capture your lips again. This time he wastes no time easing your mouth open with his tongue.

Your lips drop sweetness

as the honeycomb,

milk and honey are under your tongue.

He hasn’t had a woman in his arms like this is such a long time. Excitement overcomes him and his hands aren’t sure where to rest on your body. He wants to learn you only by touch. Allowing himself to be led blindly by faith in your embrace. He cups your breasts over your shirt and moans open mouthed into the kiss. You mewl at the abandonment of restraints you both had been holding yourselves back with. You’re not too lost to the feeling of his hands sliding back down and under your shirt. He traces your spine up and down and grabs at newfound flesh.

“You’re skin… tan suave.” He’s breathless again from the frenzy of kisses and touches he’s covering you in. He nearly loses it wondering how soft the rest of you was. The thought brings his fingers to your bra and he undoes the clasp there. He pulls away to see them fall slightly and his teeth dig into his bottom lip and he nearly growls before pulling your shirt up to reveal the loosened bra still veiling your breasts. His eyes are hungry, but he still asks, “May I?”

You’re frustrated at how long this is taking. Usually this sort of thing is a quick ordeal without all this checking in. You take a deep breath and remind yourself who you’re dealing with. You reassure him with a curt, “No more asking.”

Something snaps in his brain and he’s pulling your bra off and quickly replacing the cups with his own hands. He massages them both, lifting them lightly to feel their weight and admiring how your nipples react to the exposure to air and his fingers. The theories of intelligent, immaculate design are confirmed to him as he gazes at them and appreciates them.

At first, you’re on edge about the intensity in his eyes as he looks over you. Then you realize that you don’t know the last time he’s been with someone and that you just aren’t used to time being taken on you. You attempt to regulate your breathing and relax but when he gently tweaks the buds of your breasts between his large fingers your back arches.

He nearly drools at the sight of your body’s reaction and brings the hardened nipple into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the tip and caught it in a suckle. You moan and the last thing he sees before your shirt drops over his head is you tossing your head back. He grins devilishly and grazes his teeth over the sensitive nub before moving to give the other some attention. He doesn’t leave it unattended for long when his fingers run his remaining spit over the delicate pucker.

You pull your shirt up and off, discard it somewhere in the room. You couldn’t go any longer without the enticing image of his face in your chest. His lips parted briefly from your right tit so he could mumble, “Dios, me encantan tus tetas…”

The praise and slightly blasphemy of the Lord’s name used in marvel of your body made your head spin. His free hand gripped your hip, then the flesh of your back, ghosting over your soft belly. His fingertips then slip into the hem of your pants and trail fire in their wake. You buck your hips involuntarily and ignore the dig of the desk in your back side.

He pulls away to see your face and the feedback your body gives him. He accepts it eagerly and continues to tease and pull at your pantyline while pinching and pulling at your nipples.

“Please, Miguel-,” The breathlessness in your voice and the flush of your face makes his already hard dick twitch in the restriction of his pants. His name in that sweet, needy tone made him moan out a ‘yeah?’

“I need you.” Your eyes are glazed from the pleasures he’s bestowing upon you. A sheen of sweat shines on your bare chest from the heat of the moment. Your body is on fire and this is only second base. The sensitivity levels of you both were turned up high, but maybe the taboo of it all was causing such an intense reaction. Or maybe you were feeling the same fervent connection he revealed to feel for you. The same string pulling you to one another.

Any resemblance of control fell away from him completely at your pleading pout. His lips crashed down onto yours again and an image of you he’d had in his mind many times flashed and he knew what you needed.

His hand swiftly unbuttons your jeans and the sound of the zipper is in slow motion as he inhales your breathy moans and pleas. His hands move to either side of you and he peels the denim off your burning skin.

He pulls away from you and looks in your eyes as he begins to lower himself. He kisses every inch of newly revealed skin. You’re suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious because you haven’t had a need to do any sort of landscaping for a while. This hadn’t exactly been planned. You look down at your nearly naked body and blush at how he is still completely clothed. You see the dance of his curls as he pulls the jeans off your feet. Then he’s on his knees.

This man of God, in his uniform of black with the white collar slightly askew, knelt before you as if you were an altar to pray to. His hands roamed from your ankles up to your thighs and then down your backside. He squeezes the flesh all over and they never truly settle in one place. He’s intent on learning each curve and dedicating every mole to memory. He catches your eyes and is emboldened by the lust in them so he leans up to press kisses along your abdomen. He murmurs against your tummy at how beautiful you are and how you can stop him at any time. Then, his fingers are hooked around the sides of your panties and he begins to slide them down.

He can’t help but take his time. There were a couple reasons. The first was this was simply too amazing to rush. He’d been in situations like this, and knowing what was coming next excited him. Pulling you out your jeans and spreading your legs brought wafts of your scent into his nose. The aroma was robust and earthy and it drew him in as your panties came down. It had been so long… the smell of your heat made him nearly light-headed but he inhaled deeply. He couldn’t get enough. He had to taste you.

Your panties were still around your knees when he buried his face into your pubic hair and took a deep breath in. You nearly buckled in embarrassment but his arms wrapped around your legs to bring you to his face even more so. He hugged your crotch for a moment and the smells went straight to his cock. It’d been so long since he’d been presented with such a pretty pussy and he had to appreciate the moment.

He pulls you out your panties the rest of the way and pushes you back against the desk. The back of his hand presses to your inner leg and you oblige him by spreading them both for him to get a better look. He sighs as he sits back on his heels and admires the image that has been in his mind for the last couple weeks. The offering of your own communion already glistening from the heavy petting and kissing is more captivating than his imagination could ever be. He paws at the hardness in his jeans and takes a mental image for later.

Motivated by the hunger in his eyes and the way his eyes move in the need to see it all, you start to lose the voice in your head that makes you worry about your body. You bring your hand down and spread your lips a little for him, a little moan escaping you. He nods as if being given instruction and wordlessly brings his mouth to you.

You cry out his name from the touch of his lips to your sensitive flesh. He’s simply kissing the parts you presented to him so graciously. You lean back and brace yourself more on the desk as his hands come up to massage your inner thighs. He moves lower and looks up at you before dragging his tongue slowly up from your seeping pussy to your clit. Your hips buck again and he grins deviously.

The grin and his lewd teasing showed a transformation in the man, as if this part of him laid dormant just beneath the surface of sacredness. His eyes seemed to shift to an alarming red in the lighting. His fingers dug into you like claws. His teeth seemed more pointed when he flashed those wicked grins up at you. He was the one on his knees, but he was the dominant force.

He brought his hands to his new heaven and spread the pearly gates with his thumbs. He blew gently on the exposed, heated skin and you whined from the lack of friction.

Blow on my garden,

that its fragrance may spread everywhere.

Let my beloved come into his garden

and taste its choice fruits.

The stretch of your legs and the wetness that shone between them looked so inviting. He massaged his thumbs up and down, rubbing your lips together and then apart again. His mouth watered at the sight and he licked his lips.

“You’re so wet for me…” he breathed the words before plunging into your waters. The tension, teasing, and time carefully taken on you had driven you crazy but the satisfaction of his tongue on your clit drove you mad. You arched your back and placed your hands on his broad shoulders, the pleasure bringing you to smile and moan in delirium. No longer were you worried about his job, the way you looked, or if he was interested in you as much as you were into him. He was definitely proving that now as he at you out like his last supper.

You surmised that he had to have had some kind of experience with this as you gawk at the expert movements of his tongue. At first, he prodded with the relaxed muscle to test the waters. Now, he was buried into you up to his nose. His tongue would flatten when he wanted a wider range of flavor and you’d feel the large pad lapping you up. Then he would tighten it and drag circles around your clit, sometimes licking into your tightness as if he were starved. He took note of how your body twitched when he pushed his tongue inside you to taste the velvety smoothness of your tight walls. He saw how you jerked with too much stimulation on your delicate bud. He groaned at the sight of your body moving above him, the way your hair hung in your face. The vibration of his convulsing tongue inside you as he groans makes you toss your head back and chant Miguel, Miguel,…

Fueled by the mantra of his name, Miguel goes back to swirling around your clit. He decided his tongue isn’t long enough to feel as deep inside you as he’d like and pushes his middle finger into you halfway. The promise of penetration causes you to grind on the finger and consequently onto his face as well.

He’s sometimes closing his eyes as if he’s in prayer while consuming communion. But the buck of your hips and your weight shifting down on him made his eyes snap open so he could watch your immodesty through lustful eyes. He pulled as you pushed, maintaining the single digit only halfway. He wanted to take his time feeling you and becoming acquainted with what you had so graciously offered to him. When he pulls away from you to speak, the sight of his puffy lips and chin shining with your wetness nearly makes you fall forward.

“Be patient, please,” his voice drips with desperation, “it’s been so long.”

You let out a low whimper but complain no further when he wraps his lips around your clit again and starts moving his finger inside you deeper, finally. You arch your back and your fingers entangle in his hair.

Your light pulling on his hair pulls another moan out of him and he can’t help but rub the underside of himself as he pleasures you. Your wet noises make him want to bathe in your scent and sleek walls. Your moans make his cock twitch in his tightening pants. He flattens his tongue on your swollen clit and languidly licks around and at it directly. He greedily adds another finger so he can gauge just how tight your opening is, but has to ease it in slowly as you cry out.

“Ooh, so tight.. so wet..” He murmurs against your slick as he wiggles the two fingers inside you. “Todo para mí?” This could easily be interpreted as coy, but the tone is earnest. He truly feels blessed with the gifts you’ve so graciously given. He flicks the tip of his cock over the pants as he sweeps his fingers to graze a particularly delicate spot inside you. As soon as his fingers touch that bumpy groove you see stars in your vision. The direct stimulation to your most sensitive space and this new sensation was nearly overwhelming.

“Miguel, ‘s too much.” You pant and attempt to push him off for some reprieve.

He lifts his head with worry in his eyes. His fingers straighten and pump inside you at a grudgingly slow pace. The slightly sweaty strands of hair stick to your thighs as he gently rests his head on it. Leaning on his devotion.

“I just want to make you feel good.” His eyes trail back to watch the way your pussy clings to his fingers when he pulls them out slowly. He seems entranced with the way you stick to his fingers even when they aren’t inside you. You look down to watch the lewd scene and see just how hard his cock is and how he’s got a grip on it through the clothes he’s still fucking wearing. “As good as you make me feel.”

You melt at the words and when his thumb comes up to press around your glistening pearl. He slid it across the top, just above the screaming bud, as if flipping through the thin pages of the Good Book. He ghosted over the area you found tried and true when you were doing this alone and your body, your voice let him know.

He slides his fingers back inside, unable to hold back any longer. His pace is shaky at first, but becomes stable again.

“Mmm, is that good for you?” He begins rubbing small circles in the spot you so beautifully inclined him towards. You nod and moan in response and then he asks you something that nearly knocks you off the table:

“Will you please cum for me?” He asks between heavy breaths that feel warm on your slit. He wondered how you looked, felt, smelled, sounded, and moved when you orgasmed. When he first placed that wafer in your mouth he wanted to be the reason that it happened. He wanted his name to be the one you called out. “Fuck, I need you to…” the curse and the words from the holy man made your insides twist and burn. The steady driving into your core and thumb on that sweet spot causes you to close your eyes and roll your hips with the rhythm.

He says your name and your eyes snap open again.

“Look at me.”

The way his large body slumps between your legs and the background of Catholicism surrounding the two of you hits a dirty switch in your brain and you’re nearing the edge. He can tell by the tightening of the muscles in your thighs and the way they nearly straighten out to give yourself more purchase.

“Just like that. You’re so close aren’t you, tell me.” You cry out a yes!! through your gaped mouth.

“Cum f’me, please. Cum for me just like this. Just for me.”

The words, the perfect pace of his fingers, the way he’s looking up at you… you reach your climax and fight to keep your eyes open as he asked.

Through your lashes you see that he’s grinning up at you. Your slick still on his mouth and stringing between his lips. The type of grin that shouldn’t be on a priest’s face. That’s two things that shouldn’t be on his face now as he licks around his pumping fingers to devour the flow of juices he’s poured out of you.

Your thighs clench around his head and your body spasms, he pulls his mouth away to look up at you between the trap of your thighs.

“Yesss, just like that you look so good. Such a good girl.” He mumbles with a mouth full of your slickness.

He moves his thumb off the hood of your pulsing nub to not overstimulate you, but his fingers remain inside you. The way you pulsed and squeezed around him mesmerized him. He matched the pulses to the grip on his length in a futile attempt to simulate the intoxicating spasms brought onto you by just his hands.

He tries to memorize the heartbeat of your warm burrow as it begins to ease on your come down. He’ll try to emulate the sensation later - on himself - but he knows and dreads the fact that it would not compare to the readied womanhood presented to him. He bites his bottom lip and groans.

You notice how he holds himself and you can’t pull your eyes away from the tent he’s holding back in his pants. Your arms, still a little shaky, move down and you grab his face. You pull a little and he obliges and stands again. He snakes his large arms around your naked body and doesn’t seem to care about any mess you might leave on him. You pull his face to yours and kiss him. His puffy lips are warm against yours and when your tongues touch you taste yourself and feel another coil form in your gut. You pull away and tell him, in a raspy voice,

“I need you. All of you. Please?” Encouraged by your orgasm, you reach your hand down to grab the erection that’s been begging for you.

He hissed your name through his teeth at the sensation and grabs your wrist. He was already embarrassingly close to his own orgasm after having watched you and toyed with himself. Your grip on him made his knees nearly buckle.

His protest made you worry and your arm seized in its place. You let go of him and stare up into his eyes to see where you went wrong with him.

“What’s wrong, Miguel?” The concern in your voice makes him bore his eyes into yours.

“Nothing, no, nothings wrong. You did nothing wrong. I do want this, oh God, you don’t know how badly…” It’s almost as if he’s gasping the words. Your touch, it set him on fire. But, he didn’t think he should, or could, have you the way he really wanted. Not now. Not here. “There’s something you should know. It’s not embarrassing for me, but it’s important you know.”

The seriousness in his tone has you scanning his face for any more information. He says your name and then reveals the truth and you’re left speechless. His tone is matter of fact, the words shocking.

**

**

**

“I’m a virgin.”

You are a garden locked up;

you are a spring enclosed,

a sealed fountain.

Taglist: IT WONT LET ME TAG MORE THAN 50 I’m crying I’m so sorry I’ll try commenting tagging the rest

@soniajustneedssimping @venusisajpeg @cassidysbbg @haveclayeveryday @fishtail111 @sirbird @thecrowstears @elizzybeth-2005 @tayleighuh @crispypugfs @trashcansally @cheezit-luv3rr @marsout @eliiilamar @hamuuko @jagawriterr @oharaswifexx @limenysnocket @xthejazzdalorianx @y0mill @livingmeat @stranded-dream @its-oevy @be-be-la-la @jxylxx @usagijoestar @queenofroses22 @zaunsin @ceoofmiguel @otomebois @fairycwhores @killakungfu-wolfbitch @buffalolover10177 @jaywalksalloverme @jalxnnie @deepinballs @vomitsama @aurora-burrow @wlalspj @tieonatrenchcoat @cicato @firstghostempathtaco @yallhearsm @mumbi-222 @carmenxhuuuu @dv-ocean-blog @multi-fandom-chick-blog1 @jellybeansupmyass @cheyjellyfish @elyissly @laikve @coffeejellypng @staycgoindown @variouslyalloya @redflame5975 @botchedlove @thatoneenchilada @buck-uwu @donnie-spectacular

Chapter 5? It might take some time tho…

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Hello, for the event (congratulations) may I request chuuya, kunikida and Nikolai please. Were they are protesting reader (gn adult) from people trying to kill them please

Thank you 💖

If you were not alone

Part VII

Characters: Self-Aware! Chuuya Nakahara, Self-Aware! Doppo Kunikida, Self-Aware! Nikolai Gogol

Reader: GN! Adult! Reader

Warning: English is my second language

🍷🤡📒 Whoever were responsible for getting you four in Teyvat made a terrible job in pinpointing locations. Because, somehow, all of you ended up on Vanessa's tree.

After some struggling, you four were on the ground, unharmed. Unfortunately, someone of you scared Dr. Edith (you aren't sure, if it was the landing itself, Nikolai's jokes, Chuuya's curses, Kunikida's demands of " be serious, you two" or your attempts to make everyone calm down), making her ran away. Your first impression on locals already weren't good.

Still, it wasn't the reason to stay in the wilderness. You four decided to go to Mondstadt, and ask for help.

🍷🤡📒 The walk wasn't that bad. Weather was good, Kunikida was talking about what he knew about survival in the wilderness, just in case, if you need to camp outside.

Then, something strange happened.

You have met Chloris. You thought, that you got lost and wandered too far from Mondstadt. But, the girl bowed before you, and, with "Star born All-Creator, I was ready to go to the Cathedral, and gave you today's offerings! Thank you for gracing me with your presence. Let me gave you my offerings to you right now."

Chloris particularly shoved a bouquet of windwheel asters into your hands, bowed again and skipped away, before any of you can react.

Chuuya raised an eyebrow.

"Mmm... [Y/N], My Symphony... Do you have any idea, what happened?"

You shake your head.

"No... And I have a bad feeling about it."

🍷🤡📒 Good news, you didn't get lost, Chloris simply get too close to Mondstadt, that she usually did in the game. You reached Cider Lake in ten minutes after meeting with the girl. Bad news, you were 'welcomed' with a pitchfork mob, with shouts of "Imposter! You and your sinful servants will be purged with holy fire!"

Kunikida, Chuuya and Nikolai, probably, could ignore the mob's treats, if they were aimed only at them. But, threats towards you were the biggest mistake, people of Mondstadt could have made.

Kunikida stayed near you, while Chuuya and Nikolai were creating chaos in the crowd.

At the end, you four left, and Mondstadt city required a major renovation.

🍷🤡📒 Before you could leave Mondstadt region, Albedo found you. You get a lot of valuable information from him and camp equipment. The journey won't be an easy one. You wanted to left Chloris's bouquet with Albedo, asking him to bring flowers to the church of that mysterious Creator, but the alchemist refused. He insisted, that you should keep it. That that bouquet, prays, everything, that people brought to the church and Ivory Throne should have been yours.

You were sure, that Albedo was mistaken about you. You weren't Creator.

Right?

You will think about it later.

You have an Alice to catch with.

Four of you left Mondstadt.

__________________

Your friends saved you three times...

__________________

🍷You were in Liyue. You four were camping in the wilderness. And everyone were doing their best. You were careful. And you always have either Chuuya, or Nikolai, or Kunikida near you.

You and Chuuya were trying to gather food. While you were trying to catch fishes, Chuuya was trying to catch a boar. You don't know, how far Chuuya went, but, he was far enough to not notice Beidou immediately.

Claymore of Crux's captain was pressed against your neck. She bared her teeth.

"Got you, Sinner..."

Chuuya, with a loud yell, dropped from above, landing close to you. He immediately grabbed you, saving from the crumbled earth under your feet. Beidou wasn't that lucky. She fell down, buried under rubble and earth. You can see, how she tried to claw her way up. Still, it will take her a few hours to get back on the surface.

Chuuya picked you up, running with you towards the camp. The familiar red glow of "Upon the Tainted Sorrow" covered you both.

"Sorry, [Y/N], for being late. Are you okay?"

You nodded, leaning your head on Chuuya's shoulder.

"Yes. Thank you for saving me".

///////////

📒 Beidou's defeat leads her to have a number of serious injuries. It also robs you from the chance of getting to Inazuma. According to Xingqiu, you four had to travel in empty crates, hiding, until the ship reach Inazuma. And Crux's captain will be fine with taking shipping crates without looking into them, if Feiyun Commerce Guild require not to touch them. But, the team refused to sail without Beidou and other ships have stricter rules.

So, you went to Sumeru.

Everything was fine.

Nahida tried to help you. Collei went against Tighnari's orders to help you (Kunikida, as a 'thank you', helped her with mathematic).

And, yet, you were discovered. And gad to flee.

You don't know, in Tighnari supposed to be in Apam Woods.

But he was here, it was raining, and you had to be cautious both of his arrows and Bloom reaction.

You hardly managed to jumped away from the Dendro Core explosion, and Tighnari already had the next arrow ready.

Kunikida, who threw the next forest ranger on the ground, finally had a moment to grab a prepared list from his notebook from his pocket. Kunikida barked.

"Back off from My Ideal! The Matchless Poet: stun gun!"

With one hand, Doppo grabbed you by the collar and yanked behind him, with the second hand, he aimed and fired.

Electricity stan Tighnari, and forest rangers, that stood near him. Nearest Dendro Cores turned into a Sprawling Shot.

The commotion gave you four a good opportunity to ran away.

When you were somewhat safe, Kunikida checked on you.

"You weren't stunned, [Y/N]?" Kunikida was panicking. You reassuringly pet his shoulder.

"I am fine, thanks to you."

////////////

🤡After Sumeru come Fontaine. Melusines were real sweethearts, letting you four stay in Merusea Village. Nikolai with his magic tricks became a new star for melusines. Furina, who, with Navia, helped you with getting here, confessed you, once, that she would like to see Nikolai's performance on Opera Epiclese's stage.

Melusines supposed to keep your stay a secret. Yet, somehow, Lyney, Lynette and Freminet learned about you four.

Were it Freminet, who was diving near the village, who got a glimpse of you?

Were it illusionists duo, who saw, how some melusines tried to re-create Nikolai's tricks?

It doesn't matter "how".

What matters, that you were captured. On Opera Epiclese's stage, with Freminet, Lyney and Lynette not letting you escape. You saw people of Fontaine, sitting in the audience, waiting for your demise, for Arlecchino's and Neuvillette's arrival.

Yet, different people arrived.

In a golden-white tornado, Nikolai appeared. Chuuya and Kunikida, who arrived with him, fall on the stage, still not experienced with traveling by "The Overcoat".

"IT'S SHOWTIME! ASSISTANT DOPPO?" Nikolai's voice echoed through the Opera.

Everyone was stunned. Kunikida stand up, glared at Nikolai, but took a small MP3 Player from his pocket and pressed "Play". Sounds of "Entry of the gladiators" filled the air.

Chuuya tried to release you from your bindings. While Nikolai...

"QUIZ TIME! WHAT MUST BE QUICK RIGHT NOW?"

Nikolai, with a mad grin, disappeared again. With an explosion of confetti and streamers (they were probably made of documents, angry at Neuvillette melusines gave Nikolai), he appeared behind Lynette. He leveled her with a frightful, delightful roundhouse kick that made Nikolai's cape whip about whilst he circled.

"RIGHT! YOUR THINKING!"

Nikolai disappeared again, leaving behind confetti, streamers and a broken jaw.

"HEY, DRIVER BOY, WANNA GO FOR A MARRY-GO-ROUND RIDE?"

Nikolai grabbed Freminet by the legs and swung him at Lyney. Males collide with a terrific meaty smack.

Nikolai, with his makeshift weapon, disappeared. And reappeared in the audience.

Making several three-hundred-and-sixty-degree swipes, Nikolai sent people tumbling all around him, and then he tossed away Freminet on unconscious Lynette, jumping over the heap of bodies that were piled around him.

Nikolai returned to the stage, bowing.

"Ah, what a nice performance..."

Then he immediately grabbed your shoulders, take a good look at you, and hugged you.

"Are you okay, Birdy? They didn't hurt you, right? Should I hit them more?"

You quickly shushed him.

"Everything is fine, Kolya. You made it in time."

_________

And then you sawed them.

_________

🍷📒🤡 You knew, that Neuvillette and Arlecchino were on their way. But you hopped, that you will leave Opera before they arrived.

You weren't that lucky, so you four had to fight again.

Chuuya was a literal tank in your group, dealing with the strongest attacks.

Kunikida's stun gun made a good weapon against Neuvillette's hydro attacks.

Nikolai, with "The Overcoat" and, this time, with unconscious Luney, gave a hard time to Arlecchino.

You were tried. You wanted to go home.

Your emotions reached its peak.

Portal appeared under your feet.

______________

🐾 BSD Cast expected, that you four can be anywhere. They don't expect you four appeared in the barn. With two unconscious people on the floor. With Nikolai, hitting a strange woman with a third unconscious person. With Kunikida, aiming a stun gun at said woman. With Chuuya, protecting you from the said woman. And with a circus music playing.

🐾 It took time to calm everyone down, to find a place to lock Arlecchino and House of Hearth's siblings. And then you four start talking.

🐾 Perhaps, one day, you will return to Teyvat. You have people to help here

__________

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters @nervousinfluencertidalwave @ayameshu

[emry-stars-oc]

Bo’s siblings, older sister Princess Aster and younger brother Prince C (I… have not decided on his name yet 😭 but it starts with C)

[asterdeer]

but seriously how did yall win these two fights because the house of grief and cazador's manor have turned my "3-4 hours of deep focus and entertainment" sessions into "20 minutes of failing miserably and quitting in abject frustration" sessions and i'm genuinely on the verge of not finishing this game. and i can't lose this game , my covid tests keep coming up positive and it feels like i'm going to be stuck in my room for a while

how the fuck am i supposed to save this whole damn fantasy country if i am struggling SO hard just to get shadowheart and astarion out of their toxic home lives

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

of the father and the son

warnings: major character death, referenced assault and battery, religious themes, weird references to cumbia and salsa, basically just every warning related to the events of jason's death

it started as all rendezvous do. knowing glances, a delicate chase between tomcat and robin. a dare: catch me if you can. his partner slips out of the room unbeknownst to all except his target. the game is afoot.

they meet alone in a room. it starts with a dance. a cumbia variation. right step, left step. cross body lead. a slide to the left, a turn to the right.

“agua!” his partner cries in delight. their movements are a blur as he fights to keep control. hesitation, block, check. and then, a change of place. a change of pace.

time comes to a stand still. his head dips. he has been ensnared.

but what type of dance would it be without music? there’s not much to work with, so they improvise a duet. his partner provides the rhythm, and if done well, his jaybird rewards him with an “a” note. it’s syncopated.

clang, a-lang, a-lang, a—clang, a-lang, a-lang, AH—

but every cinderella’s evening must come to come to an end. and the clock is about to strike midnight.

                               before they part, he leaves him a small gift.

                                a gentle caress of the cheek, so he won’t

                                                             forget

                                                              their

                                                              time

                                       to                   gether.

                                        the            wound,

                                               it burns.

the spell is broken. it is 12 o’clock. and the jaybird is all alone.

12 is a funny number. it was the egyptians, who had first decided to split the night into 12 parts based on the 12 asterisms. it was caesar, who had ordered the creation of a 12 month calendar. it was jesus, who had 12 apostles before he was betrayed and that number became 11. and soon, the 12 seconds jason todd had left were about to become

11.

on good days, his mother (no that wasn’t right. his real mother was the unconscious woman the joker had left sitting across the room from him. his mother was the woman who had brought him into this world just so he could die for humanity’s sins. her included, for she too was only human) caretaker was atheist. it was only on the nights when the electricity bill had not been paid and the snow piled high on their window ledge, that she began to pray. a private mass, just the two of them. a confessional without a booth, a church without a father.

10.

he had thought she was silly then, all pressed up against the wall to steal the warmth from the next unit over as she preached of loving thy neighbour. they were bundled up in as many layers as they could wring out of the closet. under the last-washed-in-august comforter, he wore a puffer and under that, his sunday best. it was the warmest he had, all wool and short around the ankles, with a bulky security tag pressed against the small of his back. it was the only thing his father had ever left for him. he had hated her perpetual prayers that kept him from sleep. now, he longed for those days. at least then, he wouldn’t have died alone.

9.

our father, who art in heaven. did jesus pray like this too, when he was on the cross? did he ever curse the fact that even as he bled out, he could not say “my father”? for everybody is a child of god. even the prostitutes who sold themselves for a full stomach and a roof over their heads. even the criminals on either side of him, who committed sins much worse than telling the truth. even the very soldiers who had hung him there and pierced holes in him that would never mend. did jesus ever wonder why, out of all of god’s children, he had been the chosen one, born to die?

8.

he had always been taught that good things come to those who do good. he had always tried to do good by others. he had stopped his classmates from being bullied. he had fought that mugger who was about to take some old lady’s purse. he had tried to take down the joker all alone despite orders because he had wanted to save his mother. surely, those were all good actions. surely he was good.

7.

did jesus’ father ever take pity on him? god must have seen him bleeding out. even if he had accepted this fate, surely every parent’s instinct is to protect. the child’s role is to be foolish, and the parent’s role is to forgive. so surely, his own father could overlook this mistake one time. he would be rescued and they could pretend this was nothing more than a bad nightmare. but jesus hadn’t made it off his cross alive, had he?

6.

everything would be alright. his father wasn’t god. his father was batman. and batman would never let anybody die on his watch. hell, even if it was the joker locked up in here with the bomb about to go off, his father would probably save him too. god, though? god couldn’t even save his son.

5.

what was he worried about? his father would break through this door with a badass kick and save him just in the nick of time. that would show that stupid clown.

4.

any second now, his father would break through this door and save him in the nick of time.

3.

any second now, his father would come to save him.

2.

his father would come to save him.

1.

dad…save me

0.

.

.

.

they created a lovely tableau. a broken figure, no more human than he is alive, cradled in the lap of a parent he no longer fits into. mother and son, engraved in marble. father and son, covered in ash. time continues on its lumbering path, but a parent’s grief never changes.

[chamberofthespirit]

As September approaches:

Let's talk about Michaelmas 𓇢𓆸

As a Catholic folk witch, I must say I'm pretty excited for Michaelmas cause I haven't been good at keeping up with Catholic holidays, but I'm gonna start trying so I can have fun stuff to look forward to.

Michaelmas, also known as the Feast of the Archangels, is a holiday on September 29th that celebrates the Archangels and St. Michael's defeat of Lucifer. It also celebrates the end of the harvest and the autumn equinox.

Now here is some popular Michaelmas foods:

~ Goose

Also known as a "Stubble Goose", which is prepared around the time of harvest and fattened on stubble fields.

~ Michaelmas Bannock

Bread or cake made from equal parts barley, oats, and rye. In remembrance of absent friends or those who have passed, breads that have been blessed at Mass were given to the poor in their names.

~ Nuts

A tradition was cracking nuts on Michaelmas Eve (September 28th)

~ Blackberries

Folklore in the British Isles say that Michaelmas is the last day to pick blackberries due to the legend that Lucifer fell on a prickly blackberry bush when he fell from Heaven. So blackberries shouldn't be eaten the days after Michaelmas. Before Michaelmas, people would make blackberry jams and pies.

Now, the Michaelmas flower:

Asters (Michaelmas daisy), was one of the few flowers left around at that time of year when a procession was held at the Isle of Skye in Scotland. This got the rhyme, "The Michaelmas daisies, among dead weeds, Bloom for St Michael's valorous deeds." People like to plant these during the harvest time so they'll be around during Michaelmas or use them as decoration for the holiday.

Some ways people celebrate Michaelmas:

~ Having a gathering for family and friends

~ Preparing autumn harvest foods like pumpkins and squash

~ Giving to the poor

~ Attending church

Sorry for not being active for so long!

[zizz-asdf-re-r-o-u]

So You Want To Know Garu & Karu (Timeline Edition)

Very loosely inspired by Idololivine's Olivine post and Halfeti's Edmond post. Update: here's Phaerlax's post about WRITING Garu&Karu

Lore spreadsheet: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1BSTEdunb5PwVkhcuoEkaFVXUIk02FCnsoYkhL8yB9pA/edit?gid=221633315#gid=221633315

This is also going to double as a directory of all my Garu/Karu analysis posts.

Note: I did not play every 2022/2023 event, so if Garu/Karu had a tiny cameo in other events, I might have missed it even when watching recordings of past events. Please let me know if I'm missing something or have something wrong.

Warning for many spoilers & also trauma!

This timeline was last updated when Ch 14 pt2 was released.

This is an attempt at a complete timeline of Garu & Karu's history, that we know of. I've written quite a few meta about Garu/Karu, and thought we also need a concrete "these are the canon facts of their history".

Pre-Eiden Arrival:

Assume all these dates are before from Eiden's arrival in Klein.

[25-30 years ago before Eiden arrived in Klein] Garu was born to a nomad wolf spirit pack with a gemstone in his throat (Misty Vale, Ch 14)

[20-25 years ago] Garu, still a cub (in Earth normal wolf years, that would mean 3.5~ months old, unsure about Klein wolf spirit years), is kidnapped by some humans that eventually brought him to the Council of Sorcery (Ch 14).

[20-25 years ago] Kolt and his research team force Garu to transform into a wolf yokai/human form. Karu is formed as a DID trauma protective response. (Ch 14)

[23 years ago] Huey disappears, Eiden is born

[20-23 years ago] Kolt & his team continue to torture Karu, while Garu is dormant during the experiments, Cashel takes care of their injuries. (Ch 14)

[20-23 years ago] Rei returns to Council of Sorcery, Cashel catches him up with what's going on. The church has some kind of plan for Kolt's experiment (aka Garu/Karu), so 2 scientists on Kolt's team remove Garu's gemstone, Karu kills them, Rei & Cashel escape with Karu. (Ch 14)

[10-20 years ago] Garu/Karu and Cashel/Gramps are hiding in a cabin in the Dead Zone, killing monsters, taking care of people who get lost in the Dead Zone. At one point, Cashel/Gramps nearly drowns and never recovers from the illness. (Ch 7)

[3-10 years ago] Gramps dies, leaving Garu/Karu to wander Dead Zone alone. They do also find a cave for their main hiding spot. They also meet Blade occasionally in the Dead Zone. (Ch 7, AxBxO)

[Year Eiden arrives] Eiden meets Karu 1st, then Garu in the Dead Zone. Eiden proposes the human slave plan & Karu accepts. (Ch 7)

At this point, I don't know where the timeline is, because we don't know when the events are taking place amongst the main chapters, so I'll split it into sections.

Main story timeline:

Ch 8: Garu/Karu meets the rest of the gang and moves into Aster's mansion.

Ch 13: Garu reunites with Rei & co, they travel to Wood territory to find Kuya & Quincy because the Wood territory is in danger.

Ch 14: Karu makes Rei promise not to tell Garu his history, in part 2, he does anyways.

Events/SSR timeline:

Master's Gift: revealed that Karu idolizes/occasionally visits Kuya

Mystic Banquet/Endless Banquet SSR: G/Karu are not invited to the yokai banquet because they're under 100 years old and not as powerful as Yakumo. Kuya takes them and Eiden along to be his attendants. Shenanigans happen. Note: In the lore document, it says that Garu produced purple flames during his performance. That was actually Kuya that created the flames.

Idol Fest: Karu is a fan of Blade's idol persona.

Klein Star: Karu and Dante hunt a wild animal as a birthday present for Eiden.

Eerie Escapade/Howling Cyclone: It is revealed that Yakumo reads adventure stories to them, Garu likes drawing pictures, and shenanigans happen.

Silver Miracle: Garu sticks up for Kuya when the rest of the clan assumes Kuya is endangering Eiden with Night Crane shenanigans.

AxBxO/Forgotten Fruit: Shenanigans happen inside a book AU. Garu officially asks out Eiden to be his commander/master. Karu admits that he doesn't hate Eiden in a very backhanded way.

Misty Vale/Ethereal Guardian: Garu finds how hints about his past, so we can assume this event happened before ch 14 for sure.

Frozen Echoes/Binary Starlight: Echo spirits shenanigans happen including Karu getting kidnapped for 2/3 of the event. Garu & Karu perform with Edmond & Quincy for the Festival, Aster sells merch with everyone's face. Karu is scouted and then auditions to be a model, shenanigans, he gets some fans, and then ends up being a model/promoter for one of the restaurants.

Garu/Karu make cameos in Journey to a Nu World and Fancy Capricio, but they're AU/dreamland events and therefore not happening in the real (Klein) world. The only thing that happens in the real (Klein) world is that they join the clan in the hot springs.

Desert of Dusk/Stampeding Adventurer: Garu goes with Eiden to a town outside of Solaria while Dante is investigating it. Shenanigans. We can assume this event happened before ch14 because Garu has another confusing flashback.

Dessert Island Knockout/Beguiling Windchaser: Garu wins round 1 of the sports competition, and then together with Dante & Quincy wins the final flag of the whole contest. Garu is fast enough to be able to dodge both Dante and Quincy's (paintball/fire) attacks. Karu is apparently afraid of ghosts now, and can be easily fooled by human scent tricks.

This post will be updated as future events/chapters occur!

All my Garu/Karu analysis posts:

[antiquatedsimmer]

The Chestnut community buzzed with life, its people staying up late to welcome the new year with laughter and celebration. But up on the ridge, all was quiet, as it had always been.

There was no tree, no decorations, and no presents—such luxuries were beyond the reach of the family’s strained budget. Yet, Josephine and Lucile, made the best of what they had. As their little bundles of chaos finally surrendered to sleep, they stole away into the cold night, finding a moment of peace beneath the endless tapestry of stars.

Lucile had finally cleared away most of the dead grass and rubble from their front yard, transforming what had once been an overgrown tangle into a flat expanse of dirt, full of potential.

The blanket they spread out offered little protection from the freezing air and the cold, hard ground. Their breath hung in the air, visible as they shivered, trying to stargaze from their home together for the first time.

But! despite the chill, they found a way to stay warm.

With the budget stretched to its limits and the children still so young, they both agreed it was best to forgo the usual festivities this year—save for attending church, of course.

The children would have their time to revel in traditions next year.

Instead of splurging on toys and treats, the money in their savings went toward allowing Josephine to finally redecorate their bedroom and the children’s nursery. She was pleased to find that their bedroom, once so bleak and cold, took on new life with a splash of color.

It's hard to believe how quickly time had passed on the ridge, the days slipping by with a surprising lack of events. Lucile left for work each morning, returning home in the evening, while Josephine stayed behind, tending to Aster, Daisy, and Rosemary.

After the children learned to crawl, it wasn’t long before they took their first wobbly steps. Once they mastered the art of walking, there was no stopping them. They blossomed into energetic toddlers!

Aster, the quietest of the three, preferred to observe from the sidelines, while Daisy and Rosemary discovered a love for all things loud and musical. Much to Aster’s dismay, his sisters filled the house with off-key singing babble and wild dancing.

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // fifty-two

| @rollingsim | @catamano | @keibea | @maladi777 | @poisonedsimmer | @amuhav | @sani-sims | @mangopysims | @izayoiri | @thesimperiuscurse

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THERION: What do you mean “King”? ELION: Yes, pray tell, what do you mean? TAYUIN: Why should we discuss anything in front of you? Can’t you wait outside? KYRIE: Tay… ELION: Rest assured, Prince of Faeries, I’ve no love in my heart for the Church. I won’t betray you to the clergy. I’m just here to keep your sainted priest safe and sound. KYRIE: He’s true to his word. At least, he’s kept it thus far. EIRA: What happened to your respect for authority? ELION: Darling, the only authority I’m interested in is in this room. EIRA: You really need to evaluate your priorities. KYRIE: Enough. Can we please focus? Lord Tev’us, care to explain? TAYUIN: I wouldn’t. We have no idea who this guy is. SARAYN: And why should I care either way? As far as I can tell, no one is trying to murder us. To these so-called vigilantes, the Chosen Ten must look like helpless victims drafted into a merciless battleground. If they’d like to bring the fight to our front, I am more than happy to accept the challenge. EVE: Let’s not be unreasonable. I’m sure most of us here would prefer to avoid violence. At least we should all be fully aware of all the stakes. So, if you will, please proceed. Let’s put everything out on the table here and now. SARAYN: Very well. It’s no secret. When the Valkyrie and I were transported into the past— thanks to your charming display of self-control— EVE: That’s so unnecessary! ASTER: If this whole magic tradition thing falls through, we ten would excel as a theater troupe! KYRIE: Lord Tev’us, do continue. SARAYN: We were witness to, what I assume to be, some sort of cover-up. One of the Chosen murdered by elves of the royal guard. KYRIE: Are you certain this is what you saw? SARAYN: Without question. ÅSE: Deathling is not wrong. It was all very confusing. Though, it seemed that all were familiar. They knew each other. Still, they killed him all the same… SARAYN: Before he was slain, the elf, Castien Thallan, alluded to having angered his father. The ambush seemed to be the escalation of a particularly long-standing conflict. Either Thallan’s father had substantial pull in the royal sphere, or was one who could command such an attack. Someone like the King. THERION: Killing his bastard and hiding the evidence? That’s low. SARAYN: Perhaps. In any case, the guard made it clear that Castien was not the first.