#dear lord i haven't had to use that like. ever

[thebusytypewriter]

Arin: "I heard there's two main characters. One's a girl, one's a boy."

Me: uh oh

Arin: "Who do you want?"

Dan: "Maybe I'll be the male protagonist."

Me: UH OH

...

Kaede: "I'm the protagonist of this crazy story."

Dan: "Nevermind, I guess there's one protagonist."

Me: all clear :)

[blkkizzat]

'SINS OF THE FATHER'

PRIEST!NANAMI X READER

✟ the liturgy: (summary) Even the most pious of men succumb to temptation and Father Kento is no exception... especially when it comes to you. (Priest!Nanami POV) ✟ the confession: (tw) dark themes, sacrilege, adultery, blasphemy, jealously, exhibitionism, blackmail/manipulation, heavy biblical references, cunnalingus, fingering, riding dick, shoe fucking, blow jobs, panty sniffing, olfactophilia, dacryphilia, lightly suggested altarboy!yuji (aged-up) x reader, oil tycoon!gojo x reader, suggested mentions of reader x other jjk men, corruption, masturbation and angst as you are literally tormenting this poor priest (lol). ✟ the sins: (wc) 4.1k ✟ the opening rites:(a/n) i grew up catholic (got confirmed too) and went to catholic school but haven't stepped inside a church in literal years. i was honestly surprised how many bible references came so easily from pure memory while writing this.

Sanctified conviction radiates off Father Kento as he approaches the inordinately adorned wood carved pulpit with authority to address his congregation. 

Despite the uncomfortable Summer heat there is no lack of attendance, a sea of familiar faces packed into the small town chapel. The buzzing song of cicadas and soft oscillation of the large fan circulating humid air through the church are the only sounds heard as the masses eagerly await his homily.

You were among them of course. 

Sitting front and center– a small saccharine smile graced your lips while your doe-like eyes, captivated and attentive, were made even bigger as they raised to the podium to meet his own.

Bible open, Father Kento takes a full breath pause before he finally speaks, his gaze is benevolent yet his voice is firm as it projects over the congregation. 

“Dear Brothers and Sisters– Let us reflect on the gospel of First Corinthians Chapter 10 Verse 13…and The Lord says– ‘There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man—”

Oh but you– you were anything but common– and irregardless of any higher standing his status as a clergy member bestowed upon him he was still a man of flesh and blood.

No matter the effort exerted, Father Kento had been unable to keep his eyes from yours during the service. The magnetism of unknown and certainly unholy forces drew him to you time and again without fail.

No beauty in town rivaled yours, not with an angelic countenance that complemented your delicate features so gracefully in your every action. 

Yours was a form of divine femininity rivaling that of Venus herself. 

If that wasn’t beguiling enough, your honeyed voice and syrupy words had the ability to sway even the most feral of temperaments. Leaving those who heard it at your mercy like a gentle but deadly siren.

“—but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able—”

Is God faithful? 

Ironic how you had Father Kento questioning the very foundations of his own faith while simultaneously indoctrinating God’s dogma to his faithful parishioners.  

If you were a test he had failed. 

Many times.

Even the first man, Adam, had fallen to Eve’s allures and not even the warrior strength of Samson was able to overcome Delilah’s seductions. 

Who was he to prevail where the biblical idols had fallen?

What actual grace could God give man against the sensual temptation that he had carved from man’s own rib? 

Father Kento had felt forsaken of God’s grace ever since you had approached him after mass to quietly request the rites of confession. He should have refused when you kindly solicited him to perform them in the cooler confines of the secluded rectory over the oven-like heat of a chapel confessional box in summer. 

Led astray so effortlessly by your genial charms as you looked to him like a lamb lost and addressed him so meekly as “Father Kento”. He would have just as easily given you access to heaven then if it were in his power.

Yet it was you who had so graciously led him to the gates of Zion— which so conveniently happened to reside in the velvety depths between your thighs. 

Consequently, the only sins that were confessed in the rectory that day were the moist squelches of your peach-ripened pussy gushing around his cock and coalescing with the frenzied sounds of hot flesh slapping together in unison. 

A child of Lilth incarnate to be sure but you looked so pure and celestial, even in ecstasy.

Hair matted to the sides of your face drenched in sweat while your nimble hands clutched onto his clerical collar. Your eyes filled with such loving devotion and you rode him earnestly as if it was your life’s penance. 

Father Kento in turn gives you his absolution by taking you from behind. The swell of your plump rear rippling against his hips and shared fluids splashing onto his hard abdomen feverishly drive him closer to God than he’d ever been.

Yes, he is weak. 

But Father Kento held the conviction that not even The Vicar of Christ, the Pope himself would be able to resist the vice grip of your silken cunt as if its true purpose was never to bear life but to wring out the very essence of the soul of man. 

He’d fallen prey to a day-walking succubus on hallowed holy grounds. 

No– Father Kento was certain if this church had ever truly been blessed as a house of God you would have caught aflame the moment you graced its threshold. 

“—but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye are able to bear it’.”

Father Kento concluded the passage. Nonetheless, neither it nor any other doctrine had provided him the solace of escape and nor biblical strength did he receive to endure against his temptations.

There was no resisting you. 

There was no escaping you. 

For anyone you cast your sights on.

This is exemplified by the obvious effect you have on the young alter boy Yuji. 

Barely old enough to be called a man, the youth's entire body flinches whenever you spare a sweet glance in his direction. 

Has Yuji’s innocence already been stolen? 

Father Kento must quell the inkling of jealousy at the thought lest he stumble over his words and shame himself further.

He was a man in every sense of the word and a man of the cloth, he would not compete for your adulterous affections with his own altar boy.

Even so, Father Kento’s lip does curl in disapproval at the deep flush of guilt on Yuji’s cheeks. Yuji clumsily trips over his own feet, nearly permitting the blessed vessels for the rites of eucharist to fall to the ground.

Harlot! Have you really allowed someone other than himself to bathe in the sins of Jezebel?

Maintaining composure through his sermon, Father Kento reminds himself that an inexperienced youth is no threat. 

However it is more than likely Yuji– who normally is so oblivious in nature– had likewise become aware of the wicked exhibition of sacrilege occurring beneath the prayer cloth in your lap at the very hands of your own husband– Satoru Gojo.

“So you may ask where does that leave us as followers of Christ? Temptations lure us into doing, saying or thinking something that does not reflect who we really are as sons and daughters of God.”

Neither you nor your husband were Christ’s children so none of these ideologies applied to either of you.

Nefarious philistines the both of you– godless and immoral.

Although Father Kento was for certain your husband, Oil Tycoon, Satoru Gojo– was the only one whose deeds could put yours to shame. 

The white haired devil had descended upon the quiet small town like a thief in the night to greedily capture the first few drops of black gold that surged from the earth before it could even fall to the ground. Quickly buying up land and resources, in less than a fortnight Gojo essentially had control over the entire town– its priest included.

But as he became more wealthy, so did the town and its people. Satoru Gojo built up the town around him to match his own gluttony for opulence, taking the town and its people away from simple old time comforts and into the more complex modern age. 

Therefore the man was seen as a saintly savior, rather than the lecherous leech he truly was.

To Father Kento’s credit, if he deserved any at all– he had initially held strong in his faith. 

He was not a man tempted by the power that would come from a promotion to bishop if a larger church was built. Nor was he tempted by monetary gain. The treasures he had always held most valuable were only those to be found in God’s kingdom.

Familiar with the tricks masked by flamboyant arrays of grandior, Father Kento’s folly had been his own headstrong vainglory in being a man above the lures of temptation. Thus he failed in recognizing you as the seductive snake in sheep's clothing the cunning tycoon Gojo had sent to be his undoing.

And you had never once failed to unravel him.

Even now Father Kento struggles to keep himself together as you inconspicuously lean against your husband, your head resting gently on his shoulder while the dainty fan you are holding obscures the lower half of your face. 

What appears as an innocuous attempt to halt the perspiration rolling from your nape into your heaving bosom is merely a front to hide the sinful ‘o’ your cherry lips form.

Your chest softly heaves although your labored breaths aren’t from the humid heat shrouding the church– but the increasing warmth dampening in your loins. All which had been provoked by your husband slipping two fingers through the buttons of your thin sundress and into your pussy, lightly teasing its gooey folds. Gojo’s movements are mostly concealed by the cloth but Father Kento can make out the skillful circular motions stroking your spongy bud and causing the sporadic twitch in your knees. 

You had writhed similarly under him. You were always far too sensitive.

Fat tears would never fail to pour from your bright eyes when he would latch his mouth onto your sex. You would be his last supper if ever given the choice. If heaven had a flavor it would surely be akin to the taste of your pink candied cunt and he knew of no sweeter treat on earth.

Twas no wonder then how Father Kento easily loses all sense of self when flicking his tongue into your gaping slit. Swirling the appendage within your gummy walls he gluttonously slurps down the steady stream of your flowing nectar. 

Your mewls and cries for him are far lovelier than even the song of cherubim. Father Kento has committed them to memory and as such he knows when they reach a certain octave– your pitch so high it's practically soundless– you're nearing your nirvana.

Arriving at your peak you would thread your hands through his blonde locks and thrust your hips forward as if his mouth were salvation itself. Your manicured nails would dig into his scalp to rock his head deeper into your plump pussy. The actions would beckon his tongue to finally give you its mercy by dragging it flat up your folds to suckle and nip at your swollen clit.

You never called on God then. 

Nor your husband. 

Only Father Kento.

Coincidentally, Father Kento’s gaze locks with Gojo’s for a brief moment and Gojo’s pale lips curl into smirk. 

A fleeting look is shared before contact is broke but the message is clear: 

Satoru Gojo own’s everything in this town. 

Gojo owns your cunt. 

Your cunt owns Father Kento.

Therefore by proxy Gojo owns him.

The revelation has Father Kento showing the white of his knuckles from the intensity of his grip on the pulpit podium as you simultaneously release a silent scream brazenly cumming on your husband’s dexterous fingers in the middle of mass. 

“The time now is propitious for us all to make a journey of conversion, led by sincere faith to allow ourselves to be confronted with the Gospel. Let us confirm this commitment by sharing in The Body and The Blood of Christ.”

Proceeding with communion the altar boy Yuji stands next to Father Kento holding the tray where the blessed chalice of wine and platter of thin wafers reside as the congregation dutifully exits their rows to receive the eucharist. 

As it is the more modern way to receive communion the majority of the congregation choses to place their non-dominant palm up over the other to respectfully receive the host. Yet traditionally, the priest placed the blessed wafer directly on the tongue of the one receiving. This practice was typically only seen by the elderly, the most exceedingly pious and of course— you.

When it is your turn to approach you beam brightly as you and all your beauty seem to float before him.

“The Body of Christ.”

Father Kento raises the host before you.

“Amen.” 

You obediently replied. 

Like expected your eyes fluttered to close as your pillowy lips parted in order to accept the host directly in your mouth. 

God help him, this was the most sacred part of mass but the way your deviant tongue lulls out hot and thick with your saliva pooled on the edge and threatening to spill onto your lips has Father Kento shifting at his post.

You look just as compliant and yearning to receive as when you had been on your knees before him taking his cock in your mouth whole.

Father Kento delicately placed the host in your mouth in a similar fashion as to when he would tap the tip of his bulbous leaking cockhead onto your tongue. 

So willing to please you kiss his angry red mushroom tip to appease his cock, swirling your tongue over the tiny hole before puckering it between your lips to greedily suck any drops of pre that dribbled forth as you pumped his base.

You were a tease. 

That much was evident both then and now as you extended the tip of your tongue to caress the tip of his finger. A tiny kitten lick, but nevertheless a tingle ran through his cock in remembrance.  

“The Blood of Christ.”

Father Kento presents the wine symbolizing the blood before you. 

“Amen.”

Again you closed your eyes and allowed Father Kento to press the chalice against your parted lips. 

The very picture of amenability, you actually enjoyed when he went rougher on you as a result of your teasing. Father Kento would gather your hair into a tight grip as he not-so-gently rammed his cock past your tonsils and down your throat. 

It was unnatural and ungodly for a person to lack any semblance of a gag reflex such as you. 

In response you pressed your fingers into his thighs– not as a means of resistance, but to control your own lust as you began shamelessly humping your mound against his leg. You were always desperate to feel any small sensation against your cunt while he ravaged your mouth.

Of course, Father Kento would oblige you and in turn he is rewarded with the heavy moans that would vibrate around his cock as his oxford loafer pushed up into your soaked core. Your white lace lingerie did little to contain your juices and as such Father Kento made use of the fluids leaking from your pussy as polish to shine his shoe.

Having sipped the wine from the chalice you peer up at Father Kento as if seeking his approval. 

He gives you a small nod. 

Similar to the one he bestows upon you after his seed has filled your stomach and you lick your lips as if it was his essence and not The Blood of Christ that lingered on them.

In the beginning, he had prayed long and hard to forget those sinful images of you that would intrude unwelcomed into his mind. 

Yet you always had ways of sucking him back in. 

Such as leaving your soiled panties stuffed between his headboard. Father Kento thought he was going mad when even after changing the sheets thrice was he still plagued with your smell.

He should have burned the offensive garment as soon as it was discovered and yet he treated it with reverence as if it were a holy object of salvation. Truly an euphoric experience, on days he couldn’t have you he’d bury his nose into the fabric murmuring blasphemy as he worshiped the very scent of you while jerking his cock.

When Father Kento finally ceased trying to resist you he then had the fleeting thought he could save you. Bring you to God and away from your villainous husband. 

But you were no Mary Magdalene, there was no returning you to the flock.

You will not leave your husband who provides you wealth and security. Father Kento is not so enamored he holds illusions that extend beyond his reality. There is nothing Father Kento owns and nothing he can offer you but himself. 

The singular consolation of the tragic circumstances is that Father Kento is sure you prefer his touch. The touch of a seemingly pious man who only has desires for you.

Unlike your scoundrel of a husband who Father Kento was sure had not remained faithful to your marriage bed. Not the way most of the female townsfolk threw themselves at Satoru Gojo. If he had no qualms using you to achieve his means he certainly had none for himself. 

You were simply a pawn to be played, as was Father Kento.

“Before we depart I leave you with these words: Let every day be a new day to renew the promises of our Baptism: We renounce Satan and all his works and seductions — for sh– *ahem* HE – is the seducer. Now go forth, Brothers and Sisters and remain true in the light of God.”

The closing rites over, Father Kento has never been more relieved nor eager for the conclusion of a mass. Watching the congregation mingle in the entrance, he gives his farewell blessings to the parishioners.

A few still remained however you were nowhere to be seen. 

This was not odd, the Gojos were a busy couple, likely excusing themselves immediately to attend to more important affairs.

Or so he hoped.

“There you are, Father! Riveting service, as always.”

With a devious grin and a firm drawn-out handshake Gojo greets Father Kento. Turning to face the devil himself, Father Kento greets Satoru in turn with a strained smile and an even firmer grip. 

Yet still he is unable to show you any of the wrath you justly deserve and Father Kento’s smile is more genuine when he faces you.  

You regard Father Kento coyly as your husband’s arm tightens around your waist. Your face is flushed and it’s evident you are still weakened from the orgasm your husband gave you earlier in front of the entire congregation. 

That knowledge though is only held by the three of you, God and perhaps the altar boy Yuji.

Father Kento had never known you to be silent when cumming so the exertion of the effort you expended likely weighed heavy on you as displayed by how you are clinging to Gojo to keep from swaying on your feet. 

“Thank you. I am but a humble messenger of The Lord’s wor–.”

“– Wait. Hold that thought!”

Father Kento’s eyebrow twitches as Gojo's attention is momentarily called elsewhere. 

Every Sunday, a growing number of parishioners would seek Satoru Gojo’s greeting and recognition after service over that of their priest Father Kento. 

True to character Gojo makes an obnoxious show of charisma which leaves the last group of parishioners fawning and singing his praises as they exit.

“Forgive me, Father. Where were we? Ah– Of course! Yes, you are quite excellent in your delivery of God’s word, a true testament to your faith!”

His flattery is so obviously false in its sincerity that Father Kento is not surprised when Gojo’s sordid smirk returns. 

“But you are not only a messenger for The Lord… isn’t that right, Father Kento?” 

Father Kento warily clutches onto the large cross dangling from the rosary around his neck as Gojo continues.

“I’ll need you to spread mine as well. Haven’t you heard? I have plans to run for Mayor.”

Mayor.

The diabolical fiend truly knew no limits in his quest for control over the town. 

“I’ll need you to come over to dinner tonight to consult with the rest of my top supporters.”

Father Kento steeled himself.. 

There was nothing he could do to stop Satoru Gojo from being mayor but his infatuation with you aside, he could not walk straight into the lion's den to collude with heathens. 

It would be the final nail in his coffin, Gojo would indeed own his soul.

“Oh! Y/N is prepping a feast too… aren’t you, angel?” 

Gojo’s grip on your waist trails lower to palm the fat of your ass and you clutch on to him tighter as you nod eagerly in agreement, biting your lip as his large hands knead into your cheeks through your wispy dress. 

Your body is ever responsive to Gojo’s touch just like he trained you to be.

“I must refuse. I have duties here to attend, I couldn’t poss–”

“P-Please F-Father…”

And just like that your delicate voice cuts through his iron defenses like it were warm butter.

“…K-Kento, p-please come!”

Your request fumbles out of your lips as a cry as Gojo’s devilish fingers dip past your ass to prod at your cunt.

“You heard her Father. She wants you to come. Break bread with us, you will be among friends. Friends who know how to share, yeah? I’ll even share a piece of her cream pie for dessert.” 

That had been the final straw. Gojo had gone too far this time.

You seeking him out was one matter but he would not allow Satoru Gojo of all people to dangle you in front of him like a master would dangle a treat to a dog.

“Begone, you foul heretic. I will not tolerate your mockery of me, this church nor God any longer.”

Commanding in his tone, Father Kento extends the cross of the rosary forward to Gojo as if he were casting a malevolent curse back down to hell. 

Father Kento doesn’t have the courage to look at you though, he can’t. Not if he wants to take a triumphant stand against Satoru Gojo.

And so Father Kento closes his eyes and silently prays. 

Immediately bored at such a devout display, Gojo sighs rolling his eyes.

“Alright, alright, Father. I get it. Whatever you say, jeez. It’s not like I need your support to become mayor– just thought it would be nice is all. ”

Father Kento remains silent as he listens to both of your footsteps exit the church but not before Gojo stops at the doors, his cheerful voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“Heh, you know, not everyone in this town is as pious as you Father. Sheriff Fushiguro has never been one to turn down a stack of bills but I’m sure tonight he would enjoy sharing in Y/N’s creampie if you don’t.”

Father Kento’s eyes open to flash red with fury.

Having received a satisfactory enough reaction from the priest, Gojo grins wildly as your own eyes widen in shock at your husband’s words. 

Has Gojo only ever used you to manipulate him alone? 

The thought remains as Father Kento doesn’t miss the pleading gaze directed at him from over your shoulder as you are led out of the church.

Goddammit– He couldn’t let you fall into the brutish clutches of Toji Fushiguro. 

Toji may have been the sheriff but he was well-known for his oafish demeanor and greasy womanizing ways. 

NO! He mustn’t think of you any longer. 

Father Kento needs to clear his mind of you for good with prayer.

Prayer and solitude.

Deep prayer and extensive solitude was what he needed if he ever hoped to rise again to gain God’s favor. He needed to call upon The Lord’s strength one last time to remain at the parish tonight and defy Gojo’s will.

Father Kento couldn’t let the pleasures of flesh continue to manipulate the very fibers of his being in such a way. 

The rosary still in his grasp Father Kento raises his hands close in prayer as a final call for God’s mercy… and then it hits him– wafting off his fingers, overwhelming his senses and igniting every nerve in his being. 

The scent of your cunt. 

The lingering perfume of your sinful drippings spilled on your husband’s hand during mass had been transferred to his own when Gojo shook his hand and held it so firmly.

The bastard. 

The rush hits him hard and he feels dizzy as his ears begin to ring. Vertigo overtakes Father Kento as he holds the offending hand out as if he had been poisoned. 

Leaning back against a wall to gather himself, Father Kento realizes once the manic pounding coursing through his veins begins throbbing in his loins that he’s fated for damnation.

This is the moment he’d always dreaded although ironic with the simple acceptance of it he feels no despair. 

Father Kento’s conviction is finally clear as he is left with a singular truth that rang through his entire soul:

Whatever solace he would know, whatever peace he would have in this life, he would only find with his cock buried in the sweet embrace of your cunt. 

✟

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

✟ the closing rites: (a/n) hell is hot and it's surely my destination after writing this. i tried to leave it a little ambiguous to whether y/n is actually in-love with nanami or just a sex-crazed slut eager to use him at the request of her husband. i don't have a pt.2 planned just fyi as this is meant to be a oneshot. although i do need to write more nanami so i will take requests for him! but fair warning i am very slow i apologize.

also shout out to the amazing art i used for the gfx ✟ art by mishwell

✟ REBLOG to be unburdened of your sins by Father Nanami but likes and comments are also appreciated!

upcoming: the nursery (yakuza!toji), please teach me! (ceo!gojo), request: teasing choso (college au), request: sukuna x blkreader, [none in any order as im at the mercy of my adhd lol]

[yandere-romanticaa]

I'm not sure if it's okay, but can I request a second part for this precious Douma post you fed us with please ?

If you don't do second part to your post, no problem, anything for him will calm my hunger 🥲

Here it is, the heavily requested part 2 of this piece. Hope you enjoy it!

Barely a week has passed ever since the horrific encounter with Lord Douma.

You recalled someone saying that the stench of death is permanent, that it is something you can never forget once you get a whiff of it.

The smell of rot and decay haunted you both day and night. Sleep became a scarce luxury as you would lay awake in the dead of night, wondering just what other poor soul was Lord Douma going to devour next. It all clicked once you put two and two together, of course he was a demon. His strange reactions, twisted attitude and carefree smiles were nothing but a mask to cover up his true, carnivorous nature. Douma clearly had a preference for women for his meals as you noticed that most of the people who ran amok were women.

Were you next?

Despite him not turning around and even outright saying that he wasn't going to do anything, you simply did not trust him. Why should you? He was a demon, a very clever one at that, clearly. He managed to trick hundreds of people into blindly following him and submitting to his every single little whim. All he needed to do was just say the word and the entire community would execute you without a question - Lord Douma's word was absolute.

You didn't even want to think about the other much more grizzly possibility if he wanted a more hands on approach.

Due to the encounter that you had unfortunately witnessed, your work had started to hinder. You became sloppy and shaky, you couldn't even perform the most basics of tasks. Someone else was always forced to step in for you and others voiced their concern for you.

"Why aren't you with Lord Douma? You always pour his afternoon tea!"

"I thought Lord Douma wanted you close by for the ceremony?"

Many similar statements would ring in your ears on a daily basis that it made you want to bang your head against a wall a pull out every single little strand of hair. Just how blind and stupid were there people?! There was no way that you were the only one who knew what was really going on behind closed doors. To make your living nightmare even worse than it really was, on one fine and sunny morning one little boy came up to you. With a cheerful smile on his face he said:

"Lord Douma wishes to speak with you! Please meet him in his chambers as soon as possible!"

Each step that you took felt more and more agonizing then it should have been. You felt like someone had placed a giant pile of rocks on your chest and chained them there. What were you to do, oh God, what were you supposed to do? Do you play dumb or should you come clean? If you told him the truth he might appreciate your honesty and let you off the hook -

...That was nothing but wishful thinking. There was no point in trying to make sense of a demon.

You arrive to his chambers, the doors closed shut. With a heavy heart you knock and a cheerful "Come in!~" is heard from the other side.

You don't dare look at Lord Douma directly in the eye. You lower your head in fear but do your best to make it look like a sign of respect. He sits on his makeshift throne, chin resting on one hand as the other urges you forward to sit in front of him. With your knees sinking to the ground you feel him reaching out towards you, his fingers were playing with stray strands of your hair.

You still did not raise your gaze.

"(y/n) dear, I haven't seen you in so long! I missed my favorite disciple so much! Why are you ignoring me?!"

Who would have thought that this whiney brat in front of you was a man eating demon? He sounded like a little boy, like he hadn't seen his favorite toy in a long time, which was partially true in a way. You grit your teeth and try thinking of something proper to say but Douma beats you to it.

"Do not ignore me."

Icy chills take over your entire being. Since... Since when did Lord Douma sound like that? You clenched the fabric your kimono, knuckles turning white due to the pressure. Suddenly, a sharp thug forced you to look upward and were met with a rainbow gaze.

"You aren't ignoring me, right, (y/n)?"

You can do nothing but gently shake your head. With his gaze glued to you it was impossible to breathe let alone speak. Feeling the pressure behind your skull lighten your shoulders slump forward as Lord Douma brings you closer and locks you in his embrace.

He knows.

He knows that you saw him. Why else would he summon you like this? Feeling helpless you could do nothing but wrap your arms around the cult leader, returning his hug in full.

Ignorance really was bliss.

You finally understood the beauty of it.

[fandomlit]

reunited (sirius black x reader)

summary after a year free from azkaban, sirius is dying to leave number twelve grimmauld place. but after a year of also craving to see you, one of his wishes is met.

warnings mentions of loneliness and depression

a/n if you couldn't tell i'm on a harry potter kick rn (requests please!!!)

gif cred belongs to @peaceseller

sirius was losing his mind sitting around headquarters. with little to do other than to stare at his family's old possessions and vanquish bitter creatures (and kreatcher), he was beginning to harbor a feeling similar to his time in azkaban--not nearly as hopeless, but just as desperately bored.

he heard the door open from the armchair he had been lounging in and a voice gasp, "professor l/n!" before the screeches of his mother filled the hall. he jumped to his feet--not due to the screams, he was truly becoming used to that--but at the sound of your name.

someone managed to close the curtains around his mother's portrait as he practically ran down the stairs. the last time he had glimpsed you had been too brief, not even being able to show you that he was there in his disguised animagus form. when dumbledore told him he had recruited you, sirius was less than surprised, but desperate for the day you would finally drop by headquarters. when after fourteen long years, he would get to speak to you. and, as he reached the last step, you were finally here.

"old bat never liked me," you were chuckling, shaking your head at harry, ron, and hermione as you faced the drawn curtains. "screamed very similar to that in person, as well." ron spoke something to you just as your gaze landed on sirius, who was still clutching the banister with his mouth slightly agape.

you were just as beautiful as the day he last saw you. your face was more mature than he had last seen and you were an inch or two taller, but you still had that bright glint in your eyes, like you were always on the verge of a joke, and a confidence in your stance that no one he had ever met managed to compare to.

he was muttering your name before he even realized it. he was acutely aware of the trio flipping their gazes between the two of you.

you smiled fondly at him. "sirius black, you finally grew out your hair!"

he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he opened his arms, walking toward you quicker than he would have cared for you to acknowledge. luckily, you met him halfway and let his arms squeeze you tightly to him. he let out an unconscious laugh.

"holy merlin, i never thought i'd ever touch you again," he confessed before realizing how odd it sounded. but you only responded with a laugh of your own.

"me neither," you confessed, drawing black slightly to see his grinning face. "but lord am i glad you're not the murderer the world was tricked to think." his smile dimmed in the slightest, but even those difficult thoughts couldn't weigh his heart down. you were actually here. "how's the old house treating you?"

he raised his eyebrows at you. "really? just going to keep bringing up the worst things of my day-to-day?"

you let out a laugh that he couldn't help but grin at. "i'm sorry, i am." you smiled fondly again as you two drew completely apart, but sirius kept your hand clamped in his and you squeezed it to show you didn't mind it. you shook your head at him. "godric, you look good! for a convict and blood traitor, you look like a dream, sirius!"

he let out a loud laugh this time, glimpsing the trio all trading glances behind you two. "you should see yourself! hogwarts has been kind to you, my dear." you let out a surprised sound at the old nickname. "you haven't changed an ounce, y/n. you're the same woman i dreamed of on my worst nights."

he took pride in the pink that crept up your neck. "you're a slightly aged version of the man i couldn't keep out of my dreams," you admitted. sirius smiled. "no matter what they said about you sirius.. my mind could never let you go."

he pressed your locked hands to his heart, soft gaze holding yours in what he hoped didn't look at all like the desperation he felt. "now it never has to." you pulled him into a wordless hug before he slipped his arm around your shoulders and lead you toward the kitchen.

sirius knew that later, away from the eyes of the curious teenagers of the house, you two would share a heavy hearted moment. one where he wouldn't be able to deny himself the exhaustion of his hardships in your presence, which has always been able to get past his tough, playful facade. but for now, the way you smiled and joked and radiated in his presence gripped his heart in a way that wasn't at all like he had felt in years.

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Didn't Ask For This (part one)

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: yeah soo... I think I have some kind of obsession with this trope. And I have never ever seen any azriel x reader forced marriage fics, so I decided to write one myself. But I could be wrong and there are fics out there that I haven't seen, in which case, please let me know about them. (Also, because we do not know who azzie's father was and if he was a camp Lord, for the sake of this fic, lets pretend that he was, indeed, a camp lord.)

Tw: Forced marriage, none more that I can think of, so please let me know if I need to add anything.

•○🌑○•

Y/n poured the imaginary tea in the cups set on the low table in front of her, talking to Mister Fluffkins about the weather. He was her daughter's husband, or she pretended that he was. Her daughter, Alisa, was her favourite doll, who was going to be married today.

"I hope there was no troubles while on the way here?" She asked as she set down the teacup and turned towards her other toys.

Before Mister Fluffkins could answer though, Y/n's mother walked in, crouching in front of Y/n, smiling.

"What are you doing?"

"I was just asking Mister Fluffkins about his travels today. Do you want some tea?"

"No dear. I just wanted to tell you that a friend of father is coming here today with his son. I want you to try and become his friend, as he has none. Okay?"

"Okay mother." The little girl turned away and settled down opposite her to be son in law, sipping her imaginary tea. Excited that she'll be making a new friend today. Maybe he can play with her. He could be Alisa's father, and they would be one big and happy family.

As little Y/n was busy musing about her new friend, she lost track of time, and soon they had arrived. The door opened once again and her mother stepped inside, Y/n stood. A small boy, probably her age or older, stepped in behind her, his hands clasped together nervously. His eyes flitted around the room, his hair dishevelled and messy. He looked too thin to be healthy.

Y/n mother nudged him forward, and he hesitantly took a step forward. Then another and another.

"I'm Y/n. What is your name?" She asked when he was standing in front of her.

"Az– Azriel."

"Let's be friends." She said, before practically shoving him in the chair next to Mister Fluffkins and pouring him some tea. "It's tea. Drink, you'll like it."

He blinked. "There's nothing there."

"Obviously. We're playing, I can't use real tea."

Her mother had laughed, walking away. It took some time for Azriel to get accustomed to playing with her, but when he did, he enjoyed it, cherishing this rare moment of happiness. And though he was quite odd, saying he had never played anything in his life, Y/n didn't mind.

But then both of their father's stepped in, as if in a hurry. Azriel's father yelled at him to be quick and clasp her hand, and Y/n decided she didn't like this man. He was too loud.

Y/n's father was looking sadly at her when the bad man told him to make haste. They made Y/n and Azriel hold hands, guiding them through it.

"Listen girl, I want you to say I agree to everything he says, understand?" Y/n nodded, afraid of his father. "Now," he began saying to Azriel, "repeat after me. I will marry you, when I see you after we come of age. Say it." Azriel looked scared, but repeated nonetheless. And she mumbled a I agree after him before a pain shot down her left ring finger and she wrenched it from Azriel's grasp, tears pooling in her eyes. At that exact moment, the door slammed open and her mother stumbled in, gasping and clutching at her head.

"No..." She stared at her husband angrily with tears in her eyes.

Y/n didn't understand, but it wasn't as if she could question the adults. Because, even though her father didn't hate her, he didn't like her very much either, hitting her whenever she got too loud. But he wasn't bad, atleast Y/n didn't think so.

Maybe when her older siblings came home from school, she would ask them about it.

•○🌑○•

As she stared at the rain droplets pelting the window of her room, Y/n couldn't stop thinking about that day. It had been almost five centuries since then.

Asking her siblings about it had yielded no information, after all, they were kids too.

But now she knew.

Azriel's father had fame and control over the camp they had once lived in. Her father wanted to be in the good graces of the Lord and also the recently vacated position of the second most powerful person, the camp Lord's second in command. Azriel's father was giving Y/n's father what he wanted in exchange for her marriage to his bastard son.

Who had run away.

But she couldn't fault him for that, knowing what his father was like. She knew Azriel fairly well, considering she met him a few more times after the day they had been promised to each other. The last time they met, he had finally told Y/n that his father kept him in a dungeon. Then he left. They could have been called friends once, but now, Y/n didn't even know if he was alive or rotting somewhere. But, even after all these centuries, Y/n still cares for that tiny, skinny, timid boy with disheveled hair, who would get extremely happy if provided with one small act of kindness.

But she also couldn't stop the tiny kernel of resentment that bloomed in her, because, after he had run away, his father had decided that he no longer wanted to share the power when he wasn't getting anything out of it, kicking their family out of the camp. Her father had gone nearly crazy.

Her sister, Velda, had been in a similar situation as Y/n, having been forced to marry one of the more prized warriors. But she didn't have to make a promise for it, as the warrior wanted to marry her. Y/n had been forced to promise herself to Azriel because his father somehow knew that he couldn't marry Azriel forcefully.

She would have been married too, if not for the mark on the second last finger of her left hand, encircling it like a ring. Every day she woke up with a pot of dead and hope in her stomach. Dread, for if Azriel came to take her, she would be forced to marry him, but if he didn't, she'd have to ensure her father's taunts, as if it was somehow her fault Azriel escaped. Those taunts, which had increased since her mother's death, haunted her at night.

Hope, for if he came, maybe she'll be able to have the life she always dreamed of, and that Azriel would still be the boy she had befriended. And if he didn't, she won't have to leave.

Her father had waited all these years in hopes that Azriel would come to get his bride. But he was tired of waiting, it seemed. And so, today, she and her father they would be visiting Hewn City, in his hopes that the High Lord could find her husband.

•○🌑○•

The Hewn City was hauntingly beautiful. That's all Y/n could describe it as.

They were waiting on the side, her father conversing with someone named Keir while she stared at everything she could get her sights on in awe.

The doors to the court room suddenly opened, everyone falling silent as the High Lord and the Lady, with the little heir in her arms, walked in, with their Inner Circle, as they were called. Y/n kept her eyes downcast, hiding behind her father. Her neck prickles, as if someone was staring at her, but it wasn't something she was unfamiliar with.

Soon, everyone dropped to their knees, rising when the High Lord commanded. After a few people conversed with him, her father stepped forward, her following, still staring at the ground. He bowed, and she curtsied.

But then, when a shiver wound down her spine, she lifted her eyes.

She had to take a step back, her jaw dropping.

Because, staring at her were wide, hazel eyes.

She stared and stared, hoping she was dreaming and hoping that she wasn't. Because those eyes, she would never forget.

Azriel.

Her father bowed, turning away, and she shook her head at Azriel, slightly. He dipped his chin and looked away.

But when Y/n tried to step away, a sharp pain shot through her chest and left hand, a scream tearing from her throat. She fell to her knees, gasping and clutching her hand to her chest. One glance at the dais told her that Azriel had fallen to his knees as well, and everyone was silent, looking between the two of them.

She looked at her father, the confusion in his eyes clearing and a wicked smile blooming on his face.

"Finally."

•○🌑○•

Part 2

[meraki-sunset]

A lot of people were asking about the fussion trolls God tiers So here they are! Plus the dancestors

In case you forgot them or haven't seen them this is them. They were born like that in this AU, and their hemospectrum it's smaler and has diferent colors as a result.

I'll cover the story of their game as well as their dancestors and ancestors in another post

Here are the dancestors! Like in canon, they played their game and ended up scratching their game. But things went a little diferent for them...

The Legido. Araeta has Aradia's aspect and Nepeta's class, while it's reversed with Damlin, who has Damara's class and Meulin's aspect.

There isn't much to say about them, in the alpha trolls session it was Araeta who ascended last moment and stoped Jack noir. Damlin ascended in order to sabotage the beta troll's session, like Damara did in the original story.

Karlux Captas has Karkat's aspect and Sollux's class, while Mitkri has Kankri's class and Mituna's aspect.

In his session, Karlux took the role of the leader, his classpect Mage of blood should've made it easier to manage leadership (mage=understands aspect. Blood=Bonds) and the session went of well, for the most part, thos the ending was almost the same as the canon one, with them being traped in the meteor and people shooting left and right.

Mitkri was the seer of his team, but his vissions only consisted of fatidic scenarios, which his teammates often ignored due to his insistence geting in the way of progresing in the game. in the end, he lost his mind while using his powers in the final battle, losing conciousness. when he woke while his moirail restored his brain, his prediction had already been fulfilled and they had lost the game.

Teraya has kanaya's aspect and Terezi's class, and Latrim has Porrim's class and Latula's aspect.

As a seer of space, Teraya was tasked with the creation of the genesis frog and was helped by Karlux.

Latrim, she was the secondary healer of the group and kept everyone's mind active

Tavius has Tavros's aspect and Equius's clas, while Rufuss has Ruffio's class and Horuss's aspect.

This arrangement of class+aspect i did simply because the oposite of a heir of breath + rogue of void would've been a Page of void + Page of breath, and that would've been kinda ridiculous, plus i'm trying to have as many classes as i can.

Tavius literally has John's classpect now, he's more free than ever

Rufuss,on the other hand now has Roxy's exact aspect too, which is a funny coincidence. Like roxy he worked on manifesting things for his team.

Dear lord this two.

Erizee has Gamzee's aspect and Eridan's class, while his dancestor Crolos has Kurlos's class and Cronus's aspect.

Due to the wierd conection between the Amporas and Makaras this two would've shared class one way or another, since Gamzee and Eridan have eachother's dancestor's class, with Eridan being a prince like Kurlos and Gamzee being a bard like Cronus, but having the rage aspect like Kurlos and eridan having the hope aspect like Cronus.

I decided against having too Bards because i felt like a price creates a straigther path to destuction. Since a prince not only destroys his aspect but with his aspect, wich means Erizee would've appeared Rageless during the game but exploded in the meteor.

Crolos on the other hand whould've been manipulative like Kurlos but ill intended and gaslighty like Cronus, appearing hopeless until he ended up destroying everyone's hope.

His ghost would've kept instructing Erizee on how to proceed when he reached the new session, Erizee doesn't like him.

The heiresses to the throne of Alternia and Beforus.

again, to avoid having two thiefs (funny enough they would've been a thief of life and a thief of light) Vriezi is a witch of light and Meenea is a sylph of life.

when combining the two Serkets and the two Peixes you get a real interesting result, you get two very similar girls.

To me the fact that instead of them being thiefs, they both have "benevolent classpects" makes it all the more interesting. Makes you think how they can use good powers to cause harm.

Vrieri being the heiress has Feferi's will to dethrone the condesce (wich was alternate-adult Meenea) but Vriska's savage aproach to fighting. And Meenea, like Vrieri, looked forward to dethrone her ruling ancestor (wich was alternate-adult Vrieri) looking to manipulate and eliminate those in her way.

By playing the game, they both lost the chance to do so

if this two cross paths, it'll be a deathmatch on sight

If you haven't realized by now, this means, the two teams of trolls together, compose a full team.

It also means the dancestor's session was unviable from the begining, due to the lack of time and space players. just like the canon Alpha kids session

[thevoidscreams]

Omg your writing is exactly what I want and need <3 Maybe some breeding? Guilliman or the Lion (it seems it would fit them the best). Wanting to claim and curious about if their seed could knock up a regular human. Keep up the good work ^^

Day 17

I love blueberry man

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x reader

Warnings: a bit of fulgrim existing, breeding, you get yoinked, your dad sells you to the imperium wattpad style, arranged marriage

The mirror reflected my image back to me as the serf did up my corset.

“You're a very lucky woman. Marrying the Lord Guilliman.” she cooed.

I hadn't felt all that lucky. I'd barely known him a month before I stood at the altar with him.

I could see my father's face in my mind's eye telling me that my husband had been chosen. As his daughter and the princess of our world it was my duty to keep our world from ruin.

--

“If you don't do this, they will force our world into submission.”

“But he'll take me away. I'll never see you again.” I'd been crying as he sat me down and hugged me.

“He will be a good husband and this marriage will give us some favorable terms under the rule of the emperor of Terra. He promised us this and he is a good sort of man.”

“I haven't even met him yet.”

“You will tonight. He's our guest of honor at the banquet.”

I fought back tears. This was my duty, my people needed me.

--

“Oh don't cry my lady. You'll streak the blush.”

The serf gave me a reassuring pat.

“I'm just so worried that I'll never see my family again.” I admitted in a wobbly voice.

“Oh dear, you'll have plenty of family once you marry Lord Guilliman. He has thousands of sons. And I'm sure there will be a few more along the way now that you're here.”

She said conspiratorially.

“I'm sure you're right.” I admitted.

He was quite fetching I had to admit. Lord Guilliman was a very handsome man and any woman would feel lucky to marry someone like him.

Besides, this marriage would be good for your world. The protection it would afford you from those awful xeno raids was just another thing you couldn't afford to give up.

“What's he like?” I asked absently, my mind wandering. I'd only met him twice now and both times had been with chaperones from both sides.

“Lord Guilliman is very noble, my lady, and he's honorable. Smart as they come too. He's quite gentle with us all as well. Doesn't put us littler baseline people down either.”

She nodded and began fixing my hair.

“Do you suppose he'll be a good husband? A fair one?”

“Oh he'll be the best no doubt. When he's not busy mind you.” I nodded.

“Of course. He has much to do.”

“Aye, he does. Now give us a turn. Let us see you.”

I gave a slow turn and all the assembled hand maids and serfs ooo'd and gushed.

“Well isn't she just the loveliest thing you ever saw?” One of them cooed. They were all so kind and it helped ease my nerves to know that I would have them to help me.

The ceremony had been grand, by all standards, even for someone from my station.

The Ultramarines, my new ‘family’ were giant men in giant suits of armor, my new husband introduced me to so many my head spun.

But my husband and his sons were not the only giants to attend. My new brother- in-law had come to see this, apparently, an odd occurrence.

They varied in personality vastly. But they came bearing gifts and well wishes. Their sons, who I was beginning to understand, were called legions, joined us as well.

Sanguinius and Vulkan had been the sweetest.

I adored them. They did a good job reassuring me as well that I was in good hands. That their brother would be a dutiful husband and that he would not mistreat me.

They did more to put aside any fears I had than everyone before. I couldn't help but trust them.

I looked to my husband who was speaking to another man in purple.

He was lovely, with violet eyes and long silky white hair. He seemed to be teasing his brother and I smiled thinking of my own family.

Hopefully, I'd be able to have a few children soon, it would soothe the ache I knew I would feel.

“So brother, your wife is a darling little thing isn't she?” Fulgrim chirped, I knew it was the set up to something more and I downed my wine.

“If you have something to say Fulgrim then just say it.”

He pouted and lounged in his chair more dramatically.

“I'm surprised you didn't marry her off to one of your captains, or one of your other sons. But I can't say that I blame you.”

“Her father would not accept anyone from a lower station, he was..adamant.”

Fulgrim laughed, it was a silvery sound. “Oh brother, you are so lucky you got to this world instead of me. I would have grabbed her up in a heartbeat. Perhaps I should marry again. To have a sweet little thing to warm my bed.”

“I didn't marry her just to deflower her.” I felt the scowl darken my face.

“Naturally not. But you will, will you not? As her husband you will have to perform and be dutiful. A wedding is only half concluded until it is consummated.”

My cheeks grew hot. “I am not going to discuss my bedroom activities with you Fulgrim. I will do as is expected of me as her husband. But I will mto be a lecherous pervert and run around giving away everything. If you're going to be disgusting, do it elsewhere.”

Fulgrim shook his head at me and sighed.

“Well how about this? Do you think you'll be able to? Will you be able to even make her a mother?”

I was about to reply with some very heated words but stopped. The question shocked me.

“I will do as my duty demands.” I told him simply.

I looked at my wife, she was much smaller than me. Half my height and so…delicate. Sex would be a minefield to navigate. I may not have known her well. But she had been kind, and I felt certain of her good character.

“Pardon me.” I pulled myself away from the conversation and went to my wife.

“They're about to make the speeches. We should return to the table.”

I turned to look up at my husband and nodded.

He offered me his massive hand and I went with him at his side.

“Have you enjoyed your evening my Lord?” I asked softly, he looked at me quizzically.

“I am your husband, there is no need for formalities. Call me Roboute.”

“Ah. Right.” I blushed. “Have you enjoyed the evening so far, Roboute?”

He smiled. It was a gentle gesture and my heart fluttered like a bird trapped in a cage.

“I have.”

People went up to a podium, one by one, giving their admiration and care in the form of stories and well wishes. I learned much from the stories told about his time on the battlefield.

His older brother, Horus, gave a very moving speech before he addressed me personally and wished me luck dealing with his stubborn blood.

People laughed and it was all in good fun. Even Roboute laughed and stood to embrace his brother.

My own family spoke, proud as anything and I felt teary eyed again as my mother wished me luck in my journey as a woman. Telling me how much she loved me.

A few tears did fall and my husband touched my back softly.

After the festivities, people either left or broke into smaller groups to talk.

“Where will we be staying tonight?” I asked Roboute.

He looked down at me and answered in a polite and quiet voice.

“My flagship. The Macragge's Honour. Your belongings will be moved there so we may leave in the next few days.”

I nodded.

My hearts hammered as I realized I would have to sleep with her in my bed, and we would have to at least try for a child.

Oddly enough, it wasn't embarrassment or discomfort that I was feeling. It was a rush like the thrill of the battle before it began.

I was anticipating this new turn in my life.

I swept her up. Careful of her dress and carried her in my arms. “Roboute?” She squeaked.

“Is it not a tradition to carry your wife over the threshold of her new home?”

“It is, but your ship is still in orbit. It'll take some time to get there.”

“Then I will carry you all the while.”

I could feel her heart racing, the same as mine. Was it excitement that made it beat so fast and so loud, or fear?”

I could only hope it was the former. I did not want my own wife to be fearful of me.

That anxiety was laid to rest as she placed her head on my chest relaxing into me. Some of my brothers whooped and cheered as I carried my bride away.

“Have fun brother.” I heard Fulgrim laugh. Oh I would..I hoped.

Roboute carried me the whole way just as he said.

His ship was the biggest thing I’d ever seen.

And his room was bigger than the main banquet hall of my father's castle.

He set me down and touched my cheek softly.

“I want you to be comfortable. Please if this is not something you want, I need to know. But otherwise I am intent to do my duty as your husband. And consummate our marriage.”

I shivered, he was being so kind. I'd heard so many horrible stories of new husbands just forcing that contact on their wives, but here he was offering me a choice.

“I would like..” I thought for a moment, trying not to imagine anything too lewd.

“I would like to try.” I breathed and he nodded.

“Shall I have a serf help you prepare? I am not so experienced in undoing clothes and hair.”

I shook my head. “Let me undress, then perhaps we could bathe and.. get used to one another.”

“A sound idea.” He agreed and began to undress.

His body was amazing. Perfect even. I couldn't help but stare as he revealed his body to me. Laying his clothes over a chair neatly.

“Are you going to undress with me?”

I stared at him dumbfounded and nodded.

He chuckled. “Is the view really all that good.”

My mouth moved before my brain and I blurted, “Oh yeah.”

Roboute blushed, and not lightly either. His cheeks were like the blood angels battle plate.

“I- um, thank you.”

I nodded.

I fumbled a bit gracelessly for the strings keeping my corset together.

I managed but I felt foolish.

I dropped the dress and stepped out of it, moving on the pins holding my hair. Quite aware of his gaze on me.

She was lovely, I hadn't imagined such a thing of beauty would be under all of those clothes. She rivaled even the most masterfully sculpted statues of my home.

I wanted to reach out and touch her skin, it looked so soft.

I resisted, not wanting to be too forward.

“You are very lovely.” I breathed and snapped my mouth shut, having not meant to speak the words aloud.

Her eyes sparkled, just as magnificent as the rest of her.

“I will take you to the bath.” I told her, lifting her until my arms. She gasped and I nearly put her down again.

But get arms snaked around my neck. I find that anticipation returning along with the question Fulgrim posed to me.

Could I give her children? I would have to try.

The bathroom was spacious and the tub would have more than enough room for us both, it could fit several of my brothers and I for a communal bath. But for tonight it was just us.

I ran the water, setting my little wife down on a bench.

“Shall I bring some oils? They feel wonderful after a bath.”

“I've never used them before.”

“I will help you.” I assured her.

Once the water was to an acceptable depth I stepped in, offering her a hand into the hot water.

The water was deeper than I had anticipated, it was like a hot pool.

Roboute took me into his lap and I felt like I was going to faint. He was my husband, but I'd never been alone with a man, other than my father, much less naked with one.

And here I was, sitting in his lap, naked as a bird and feeling all sorts of ways about it.

His hands ran over my skin, massaging soaps into my back and arms.

He was bathing me, like I was a kid.

“I-I can wash myself.” I stammered, he chuckled and it sent rippling little waves through the water.

“I know, but I want you to relax.”

“Oh.”

My hand reached for the bottle and I poured some into my hand, rubbing down his chest, my fingers brushing through the very fine blond hairs there.

He hummed and his hands scrubbed lower.

We spent our time like that, rubbing and bathing one another, I moved closer to reach his shoulders and found myself against something hard under the water.

“Hmm?”

He coughed and apologized.

“Why are you apologizing?” I giggled still confused.

I reached down to try and move the thing out of the way with my hand, grabbing it. Roboute groaned and it dawned on me just what I'd just done.

“oh….” I mumbled and slumped against him. “sorry…” his hand rested on my back.

“Don't be. It's yours to do with as you please.” He mused.

It was, wasn’t it? I ran my hand up and down the length of it. Exploring the velvety softness.

“It’s big.”

“What did you expect?” He breathed, seeming to enjoy the touch.

“Well, I'm not really sure. This is all new to me.”

Roboute sank into the water washing the soap from our bodies before standing.

“Let’s get dry, I’ll rub you down with that oil.”

His towels, like everything else, were massive. I got lost in the plush fabric and my poor husband had to help orient me towards the bed.

I sat on the edge and pulled the towel down to look up at him. He was actively drying his body and I followed his example.

While I was drying Roboute vanished back into the bathroom. He returned with a clay vase of body oil.

“Lay back.”

My body moved, I found myself unable to disobey the command.

He knelt on the bed next to me, his body causing the bed to dip. I had to put out an arm to keep from rolling.

Roboute kneeled between my legs, pouring oil into his open palm.

“Just relax and let me work.”

I nodded.

His hands ran over me bare chest and down my stomach, the oil felt warm applied by his hands.

The big pads of his finger tips massaged my thighs and I moaned as he worked the tension out of my muscles.

He was skilled with his hands.

I was so lost in the feeling I didn’t notice him bending low until his lips were on my throat, kissing and nibbling. My fingers combed through his hair, holding him closer.

“Roboute~” I gasped.

“Yes, my wife?” He purred back. His fingers sliding between my thighs, pressing to my womanhood.

His lips touched mine, one oil slicked finger pushing in. The oil acts as a sufficient lubricant to ease his way in, making me squeak.

“Shall we begin the consummation of our marriage my husband?” I asked, my voice tremulous.

“That was the idea, yes.”

I looked down at her, her body soft under my own. I had certainly made up my mind on the matter. I would bed her as frequently as I was able. We had to make our way back to Terra now, so that I could present her to my father. That would provide ample time to see if our biology was compatible. I was surprised to find that I was beyond hopeful that it was. She was a good woman and I was sure she would care for a family well. I’d also taken her from her home and her family. If I could not provide her with children.. The thought killed me inside. I slipped my finger in as far as I could, watching her writhe under me. Her breaths quickening as I pet her inner walls. The oils mixed with her natural slick. I was fascinated by the way her body pulled my finger back in after I pulled it back. Taking the oil I poured more over her. Tending to her gently. I felt pride with each sound I drew from her soft lips.

“The oil..” She sat up and I felt a rush of worry, was it hurting her? Was I hurting her?

“Yes? What about it?”

“May I see it?” She held out her palm to me and I understood, lifting the jug to pour some into her hand.

“What are you-?” I choked on my own breath as she grabbed hold of my cock, stroking me and kissing my lips.

“Is this good?”

“Very.” It felt good, being touched in that way. The strokes were a bit uncertain at first but steadily grew with confidence as my own voice joined hers.

“I need to prepare you to take me. May I push one more in?”

She nodded and kissed me softly. “Yes, please.”

My ring finger joined the middle and I felt her body stretching to accommodate the width of both. I watched as her face scrunched with pain.

“Breath, deep breaths, it'll help ease the pain.”

She obeyed readily, and my manhood twitched. Would she always obey so well? If so, we were probably going to be doing this even more than previously assumed.

“Good girl. Taking me so well. ” I praised, my fingers pulling out and pushing back in. I added a bit more oil and kept the pace slow and steady, letting her body acclimate to the affection.

I had her there for all of two minutes before her body tensed and her walls clamped around me, my fingers suddenly became a lot wetter and stickier.

“Good girl,” I crooned again, “cum for me, just like that.”

Her hand was still lazily holding my cock and I watched as a thick pearl of precum dripped onto her lower lips. I pushed it in with a thumb.

“I need you, my darling wife.”

Her eyes focused on mine and she reached up for me. Grabbing at me and smiling dreamily. “Then have me.”

I did, lining up my cock and pulling her onto it inch by inch.

If I had thought his fingers stretched me then I hadn't felt anything yet. His cock was thick and filled me completely.

I felt my head fall back and I cried out, but the preparations from before made it not only bearable, but after a point, completely mind blowing.

His cock pressed all the places he'd been petting before.

Making my already tingling nerves shout at the new source of stimulation.

Sunk to the hilt he stopped and I whined reaching up to take his cheeks into my hands.

“I will give you time to adjust, don't worry.” He promised.

I felt myself grumble, grumpily.

“I don't need time to adjust.”

He looked down at me, confusion morphing into understanding, then amusement.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” I whined again.

“Is my princess in need. Does she want me to make the burning ache go away?”

I did. I very much did.

“Yes, I need my primarch to make me feel good.”

His mouth descended on mine and he kissed me hard, his cock pulling out of me before thrusting back in.

“Like that?” He teased.

“Exactly like that.” I panted under him.

He wrapped his arms around the oil from my skin brushing off onto his.

He kissed me, his hips working a steady rhythm.

His body was hot, like the bath water and it kept me warm in the big room. His cock was also hot inside me. I wanted more of this, more love, more touches, more everything.

He seemed to be feeling the same, his eyes were closed tight and I kissed the tip of his nose. He faltered in his pace and I laughed, as he smiled and returned the gesture.

Neither of us lasted very long that first round. I came hard on his cock and he gave me the first of many loads.

The room was quiet, except for our breathing.

I laid in Robute's arms, kissing him over and over.

“I think they were right.” I spoke, breaking the silence.

“Who was right about what?” He asked, puzzled.

“Your brothers. I think you will be a wonderful husband.”

He hugged me tighter and pressed her forehead to mine.

“I will try.”

A month passed on our journey back to Terra. I had awoken the past two days feeling ill. Roboute took me to the Apothecaries on the third day. Fearful I had contracted some ailment while aboard the ship.

We'd been active almost everyday for that month. Except the past three and I was feeling needy again.

The apothecary came rushing in from the lab looking at his father and I with a look of awe in his expression.

“What is it?” Roboute demanded. His son stared at the database and he grinned.

“Congratulations, father.” He motioned to me and I thought I began to comprehend.

“Our mother is with child.” He announced.

Before I could speak Roboute had me up in his arms. Kissing my cheeks and face, laughing and cheering.

“Please, my son. May I have the results. Send them to me.”

Later that night Roboute called his brother.

“Brother! How is married life?” Fulgrim asked delightedly and sipped his wine.

Roboute sent the results to his brother. And watched as the fuzzy green image spat out the mouthful of wine and coughed.

“I guess we have our answer now. Don't we? Good night brother.”

Roboute terminated the connection and went back, intent on celebrating with his wife.

[velarisnightsky444]

Scorched Shadows: Part 10

Eris x AzrielsSister!Reader

Summary: Y/N is the younger sister of Azriel. She has shadows just like him, and is also a spymaster for Rhys. When she meets Eris, she initially hates him, but after a bargain is made between them, things begin heating up.

cw: mentions of child abuse

a/n: ik, ik, main character who plays piano and loved the symphony, how original. but i genuinely didn't put the pieces together until after i thought this up.

Series Masterlist

Part 9 || Part 11(upcoming)

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Year: 19 since fic began Year: 15 Under the Mountain

Attending a ball was the last thing on your mind. Especially after what had happened at the last one you'd attended.

There was one tonight, and you'd decided you wouldn't go. Rhys wouldn't be there, anyway. Seeing Rhys was the only reason you ever attended Amarantha's festivities. Even if you couldn't always speak with him, just a glimpse of him made it worth it.

Things had been tense between you and Eris in the last five years. Of course, fights were something you were both used to. You were always fighting.

But no matter how intense the fights got, it never ended the fling between the two of you.

So, of course, you were currently on your way to his bedroom. He was a nice distraction; that was all he was. Why you couldn't find a nice distraction with any other male, you weren't sure. You and Eris had nearly two decades of history. That made things easier. Knowing that neither of you owed the other anything.

When you arrived, you found his bedroom empty. You huffed, checking the clock on the wall. He said he'd be back by now.

So you plopped down on his bed, breathing in the scent of him, then scolding yourself when you realized you were savoring it.

The door opened, and you sat up to greet him, freezing only when your eyes met those of a female.

The Lady of Autumn stood in the doorway, her russet eyes wide. Her red hair was almost lifeless as it fell down her shoulders. She was much too thin, her face gaunt.

You flushed a deep red, scrambling from Eris's bed.

"Oh, dear, I apologize," she said quietly, her voice meeker than you expected. "I was looking for my son."

"No, my Lady, I'm sorry," you stammered, bowing your head to her. "This . . . this isn't what it looks like, I was just looking for him, I'm so sorry--"

"No need for that," she assured you, a slight smile on her lips. It looked out of place for her. "I will come back later."

Just as she was making to leave, Eris came strolling into the room. He seemed almost carefree; that is, until he took in the view before him. His amber eyes flitted from you to his mother, then back.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shooting you a look before turning to his mother.

"Mother, I--"

"I don't want to know, Eris," she said to her son. "We'll talk about it later."

"Don't tell--"

"I won't." With that, she was gone.

You loosed a breath of relief, collapsing headfirst onto his bed. He closed the door behind him, making a point to lock it.

"That was humiliating," you grumbled into his pillow.

"Agreed," he said, sitting beside you. "But she won't tell anybody."

"Does she know that we're--" you trailed off, usually not speaking the word 'mate' out loud.

"No," he admitted. "Nobody knows."

"I haven't told anybody, either," you said.

"I figured," he scoffed. "Your brothers would've strung me up by now if they knew." You couldn't quite disagree.

"Well, I think the mood has officially been ruined," you declared, sitting up and making to leave.

"Wait," he said. You froze, turning your attention to him. "The ball tonight. Come with me."

"No," you scoffed.

"Why not?" he mused. "I have nobody to go with. Might as well be you."

"I'm flattered," you glared.

"Besides, Amarantha is hosting a meeting with the High Lords during the ball," he reminded you. "Your brother and my father won't be there."

"Your brothers."

"Will be too drunk to see straight," he assured you. "The ballroom beside it will be empty. We would still be able to hear the music. Then, we'd be alone."

"Why do you want to go with me so badly?" you demanded.

"Old times sake," he shrugged. "Who knows, maybe dancing together again will reverse the mating bond." You snorted.

"Fine," you sighed. "But only because I miss music and dance."

"We'll meet at 8."

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You couldn't believe how nervous you were as you got ready. Rhys had supplied you with some money, so you bought a new ballgown from the seamstress that lived in the room beside yours.

Night Court colors. A deep violet gown with a flowing skirt and a tight, strapless, bodice. One that showed off your breasts in a way you knew would drive Eris mad.

Mostly, you were looking forward to hearing the orchestra. You loved music. You always had.

When you were very little, you'd once broken away from Azriel during your time out of the cell.

You had run amuck around the house until you found yourself in a room. It looked unused, white sheets covering the furniture. But on a side table, there was a symphonia.

You hadn't known what it was at the time, so you'd messed with it until it began playing music. You had gasped, sitting beside it and listening.

By the time your hour was up, Azriel had found you. He'd scolded you for going upstairs as he dragged you back to the cell. The upstairs was strictly forbidden for the both of you.

But you did it again. Nearly every day for months, you found yourself in that room, listening to the music.

Until the day your stepmother had found you. The lashings she had bestowed upon you, plus the beating you had gotten from your father, had been severe enough to keep you from going upstairs ever again.

Azriel saw how upset you were to have lost the music. He began singing to you to calm you down, and it helped.

After you both moved to Windhaven, your new family had a hard time connecting with you. You were shy, and you didn't speak. So they all went to Azriel for advice. He had told them you loved music, jokes, and stories.

Selene told you stories, and you loved them. Especially the ones about her and your mother, from when they were girls together.

Cassian made it his mission to make you laugh everyday after his training. He told you jokes, and delighted in hearing your laughter.

Selene also taught you to play the piano. There was a small one in the sitting room. And you loved listening to her play, as well.

Over the years, you became a very skilled pianist. Your brothers always said you should've made a career out of it, but you didn't want it to become a job. You loved it simply for the art.

And every time you went to Velaris, Selene took all of you to the symphony. From the first time, when you were seven, you fell in love. It became your favorite thing to do.

But after she had died, all of you struggled to go back. It wasn't until decades after her death that you all decided she would've wanted you to attend, to enjoy it for her.

So now, every year on the day she died, you would all attend the symphony in her memory. And the orchestra always dedicated the music to her on that specific night.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. You had lost weight, just as everyone had under here. We were kept from starvation, but Amarantha made sure none of us were well fed. She only supplied food at her parties.

Your skin was paler, though still dark due to your Illyrian heritage. You hadn't felt the sun in ages.

Despite that, you looked beautiful in your dress. Your hair was curled, your makeup simple.

You looked just like your mother when your hair was curled. You missed her so dearly. You hoped Azriel was visiting her regularly, and you hoped she wasn't too worried about you.

Thoughts of your mother kept you distracted from the nerves as you strolled through the corridors, to the ballroom.

You fidgeted with your scarred hands, trying not to chew on your lower lip and ruin your red lipstick.

You carefully snuck over to the empty ballroom, beside the one that was buzzing with life and music. You were good at blending into the shadows, so nobody noticed when you slipped into the other room.

Eris was already there, looking fine in his maroon suit. He turned, his amber eyes meeting yours. The breath loosed from your throat at the sight of him. He was so incredibly handsome. It still shocked you.

You could hear the music playing from the other room. You closed your eyes for a moment, indulging in the notes. The beauty of music was always enough to relax you.

Eris had his hand out to you when opened your eyes. You curtsied, taking it.

"You clean up nice," he commented.

You rolled your eyes, placing you other hand on his shoulder as his went to your waist. And you began to dance.

"Wish I could say the same of you," you lied.

"Is that why your heart skipped a beat when you saw me?" he taunted you. "Interesting."

"You're a prick," you mumbled. He only grinned, spinning you.

Eris was a excellent dancer. You were able to keep up with him, but your skill paled in comparison.

"Where did you learn to dance properly?" he asked you.

"What?" you demanded, making a sour face.

"I wouldn't think a bastard would be taught to dance," he explained. You only glared.

"Rhysand taught me," you admitted. "When I was ten."

Selene had gotten you a symphonia of your own, and with it, Rhys taught you to dance. He saw how jealous you were of him going off to important High Lord balls. So he taught you.

He had been thirteen, but tall for his age. And you had been ten, and small for yours. So you stood on his feet, reaching up to hold onto him.

As you got older, he began taking you as his date to every ball. It was one of the reasons he had taken you to the masquerade with him.

He knew you thought badly of yourself, being so low born. So he did his best to make you feel special.

He was never embarrassed about bringing his little sister as his date, even after he became High Lord. He said he loved seeing your face light up, and it always did when you walked into the ball on his arm.

"He taught you well," he complimented. "You dance just fine for a bastard."

"You don't need to follow up a compliment with a insult every time," you said to him, exasperated.

"I'm a cruel bastard, remember?" he scoffed. "What else would you expect?"

"Despite what I may have said five years ago," you began. "I do not believe you are as cruel as you pretend to be."

"You don't?" he hummed.

"Rhysand wears a mask," you said. "Everyone think him cruel. But he isn't. I think it's the same with you."

"Why would you possibly think that?"

"You invited me here tonight," you shrugged. "You've been a prick, but never cruel to me. You respect my boundaries in bed. You treat your mother well. You didn't turn me in when you found me spying in your court."

"We made a bargain," he reminded you.

"Even without the bargain, looking back, I doubt you would've turned me in," you mused. "I didn't know it back then, but now . . . "

"You think you know me now," he scoffed.

"Yes, I do," you confirmed. "Don't think this means anything. I still despise you, Vanserra."

"I would be concerned if you didn't," he stated, dipping you.

This time, no bond snapped as you stared up in his eyes. But that bond in your chest sang.

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Scorched Shadows Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @hnyclover @lilyevansstudygroup @esposadomd @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @a-court-of-mischief-and-madness @sourapplex @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @i-know-i-can @mp-littlebit @paintedbyshadows @kristijenner19 @kitsunetori @lorosette @bookwormysblog

Eris Taglist:

Comment to be added to the Scorched Shadows or Eris taglists!

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[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Jump then Fall prt. 5

Thank you so much to @stabbythespaceroomba for cropping the Aeron picture. You're a real gem!

I took a lot of inspiration from a glorious Benji oneshot by @valdezthg Go read it if you haven't already. Their writing is amazing!

Description: Another knight takes an interest in Y/N, sparking Aeron's jealousy, and when a banquet descends into chaos Y/N is left wondering if Aeron's love for her was ever real.

Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 6

Warnings: Aeron being a lovesick dolt with idiotic tendencies. He's trying his best. Hurt/comfort, angst, female reader. I don't understand basic topography and refer to Stone Hedge as Bracken Hall, I just like it better.

There was a cold chill in the air and a thin layer of mist had settled over the Riverlands. Despite the cold of the Autumn morning, Aeron's heart warmed to see his lady love and favourite cousin settled on a balcony overlooking the training yard of Bracken Hall. She had come to see him despite the inhospitable weather conditions. To see Y/N laughing with his cousin filled him with happiness and pride in her, a sign of how well she would fit into his family as the future Lady Bracken. "Aren't you going to greet your lady? I am surprised you didn't bolt over the balcony railing as soon as you saw her. Alas, I see you're too busy standing like a dolt, staring at her." Aeron glared at Samwell before briskly walking to the base of the balcony and beaming up at Y/N. "Good morrow Y/N, dear cousin. I am most grateful for your attendance." He greeted them both. Y/N leaned over the balcony, shooting him a smile of pure sunlight that seemed to make the clouds break overhead. "Good morrow good knight. I hope you know we expect a good showing today."

Aeron grinned at her teasing "and a good show you shall have ladies." At the sweet sound of Y/N's laugh Aeron decided to take Samwell's advice for once in his life. Using intertwined vines and the railings of the balcony as leverage, he pulled himself up so that that could be at eye level with her, capturing hers lips with his several times before separating from her as he noted his cousin's light blush of embarrassment. He would hate to make his shy cousin uncomfortable and so jumped back down from the balcony onto his heels. With a final parting smile he turned back to the other knights who greeted him with playful jeers at his lovesick behaviour, though none were tinged by any malice.

Aeron's focus was drawn back to his fellow knights as they engaged in mock combat with one another. He was proud of his improvement in swordplay, though he'd never admit to Samwell or his Lord Uncle that Y/N had played a great part in his renewed dedication to the art. He wanted to do his duty as a knight of House Bracken, to Aegon the true king, and to protect his homeland. More important still to him was his desire for Y/N to see him as someone capable of protecting her. He tried not to glance in her direction too often for fear of accidentally impaling himself or his duelling partner in a moment of distraction. But no longer seeing her up on the balcony he whipped around to find her and his cousin in a corner of the training yard engaged in conversation with a knight he had not met before.

An uncomfortable feeling settled into the pit of his stomach as he watched the knight take both ladies' hands to place a gentle kiss upon them. Upon his love's hand, he bristled. He halted his movements and he was lucky that his opponent had the reflexes not to decapitate him. Aeron felt heat rise in his face, his chest tighten, and his jaw clenching as he watched Y/N laughing at something the knight had said, gifting him with an attentive smile which sent Aeron's thoughts spiralling.

He wanted to be the one making Y/N laugh, to be the only man she smiled upon. He wanted to curse the knight for daring to flirt with Y/N, for presuming to touch her but a deep sense of insecurity he had never fully addressed also threatened to consume him. What if Y/N should like this unknown knight to approach her. What if she preferred him to Aeron? Fists clenching as a wave of helplessness crashed over him, Aeron for better or worse succumbed to his anger with the knight. Storming over to stand next to Y/N, he took hold of her waist and glared at the knight whose expression dropped from his former joviality upon seeing Aeron's stony faced expression.

The anonymous knight spoke first. "Good morrow Ser Aeron. Allow me to introduce myself. Ser Renly at your service" with a respectful bow he continued "I must commend you on your swordplay today, your defeat of Ser Humphrey was most impressive." Aeron could not discern whether the knight was in earnest or seeking to antagonise him in a misplaced attempt to incur favour with Y/N. "I am indeed surprised you can comment on the fighting at all Ser, engaged as you are with entertaining my lady and cousin." His tone was laced with suspicion and Y/N shifted uncomfortably at the palpable tension crackling in the air. Ser Renly attempted to diffuse the tension with an awkward laugh. "I am glad to have made your introduction. But I have tarried too long and must attend to my own training." Aeron said nothing as Ser Renly gave a respectful bow to himself and each lady in turn before departing.

But upon looking down at Y/N's face he was immediately struck with an intense feeling of regret and concern for his lady. Her face had turned red, not with the blush he so loved to incite with his affections, but with unconcealed embarrassment, her arms wrapped around her stomach as if she wanted to shrink herself or dissapear entirely. Before he could open his mouth to stumble out apologies for his actions Y/N had grabbed his hand, practically dragging Aeron away from from the yard. She did not stop until they reached the treeline that separated Bracken Hall from the Brackenwood. Wordlessly dropping his hand, Y/N turned to look at him, a look of dissapointment in her eyes. "What was that?"

Aeron's jealousy and anger at the presumptuous knight had yet to subside completely, but he was aware that he acted in a way like to cause his lady shame, evident from the look of displeasure upon her pretty features. "I admit I acted in jealousy. I saw how that blaggard looked at you and I could not bear it to see you grant him your sweet smiles and laughter." Aeron fell down onto a tree stump in front of Y/N, his head falling into his hands, embarassed at his behaviour and prepared to accept any rebuke from his lady.

"And are you displeased with me?"

Aeron looked up in alarm and swiftly began pawing at her skirts, pulling her towards him until their knees knocked together. Placing his head on her abdomen and holding her in place by her hips, he mumbled into the fabric of her dress "Never. It is you who should be displeased with me." Aeron despaired that he had made Y/N believe herself to be the object of his ire, that he could ever be angry with her was beyond the realms of his imagination. "Y/N to me you are perfect. It is not your fault that others see that too. Today I behaved rashly in my jealousy and worse still, made you believe I could possibly be angry with you. I beg your forgiveness."

Y/N slowly brought her hands up to lightly caress Aeron's head. "I will gladly give it. I only ask that you trust in my love for you in future." Aeron looked up at her, a wave of relief crashing over him at her willingness to forgive him so quickly, and he thanked the gods for gifting him with the love of such a gentle and merciful lady. "I swear to you that I will comport myself in a manner becoming of a knight and one deserving of your love for as long as you will have me." A slight frown ghosted over Y/N's features and Aeron quickly tried to ascertain what in his words might have offended or upset her. He watched various emotions flicker in her eyes before her expression settled into one of resolve, he knew not what for.

He stopped breathing momentarily, frozen in place, when she lowered herself to perch on his knee, immediately capturing his gaze with hers. She seemed to measure the weight of her words carefully. "You do not need to persuade me to love you. I have already given you my heart fully and it hurts me for you to act as if that were not the case. As if I did nor love you in equal measure." Aeron had not considered that his own insecurities, his difficulty believing someone as precious as Y/N could return his love, could be hurting her. Even now her cheeks were dusted with a pink blush at the boldness of her actions, and he could not but admire her bravery, as she put aside her own shyness and embarrassment in order to reassure him.

He would not make the same mistake again. He brought his hands, still latched onto Y/N's skirts up to her waist to hold her and keep her from falling, lowering his head to slowly brush his lips against her forehead, then her cheeks, and the tip of her nose. "I am ashamed to have given you pain on account of my own insecurities. You are my love, the other half of my heart." With that he lowered his eyes to her lips before looking into her eyes, silently asking for her permission. When Y/N glanced at his own lips he gladly brought their lips together, pulling her closer towards him with one hand on the small of her back. As Y/N's arms wrapped around Aeron's neck he determined that he should be as brave as his Lady in expressing his love for her, and be confident in offering her his affection however she would allow.

Breaking the kiss, Y/N leaned her head against Aeron's shoulder, an affectionate gesture that always had his heart stumbling, an assurance that she felt safe with him and looked to him for comfort. "I believe your cousin may have a secret lover you know" Y/N half whispered conspiratorially. Aeron blanched at that. Is that why his dearest cousin had been sneaking off so much of late? "What makes you think that?"

"She seemed terribly distracted the whole morning as if deep in thought and blushed when I asked her the cause of her wandering thoughts" Y/N smiled. "I am pleased for her, are you not?"

Aeron grimaced slightly. "In truth I am concerned for my cousin. I should be glad to see her make a match that pleases her. But she is my favourite cousin and I doubt anyone would be good enough for her. But as long as it is not that bastard Benjicot Blackwood then I suppose I have little to worry about" He joked, hoping to reassure her that he shared in her joy for his cousin.

Just before Aeron turned in to his Chambers that night Lord Bracken informed him that he was to hold a banquet within the week for honoured guests. Aeron assumed the aforementioned guests would be squires of The Greens, that this banquet would serve to strengthen their bond with House Targaryen as his Uncle swearing to King Aegon had. Aeron believed in the sanctity of Aegon's cause, appalled by the kinslaying of the Blacks, declaring himself to his uncle as most in favour of this banquet. Though he could not deny that his mind did wander to what gown Y/N might wear, how she might style her hair, and if they would dance together.

On the evening of his Lord Uncle's banquet, Aeron found himself positioned at the door to the Great Hall, welcoming guests to his ancestral seat. His mind had begun to wander as he routinely uttered the standard greetings required of him until he spotted Y/N walking towards him with her parents. Stunned by her ethereal beauty, her lilac dress embroidered with the symbol of his House. He had a hard task schooling his expression in order to formally greet her parents. He wished for their two Houses to be joined in marriage one day and was eager to express his respect for his love's family. Y/N smiled shyly at him from behind her parents, which he happily returned as he welcomed her parents. As she passed by him he secretively brushed his fingers against hers, promising himself that he would let her know how beautiful she looked as soon as he could get a moment alone with her.

As the last few guests filtered into the room, Aeron took his place by his uncle at the head table. He paid little attention to his welcoming speech, eyes focused on Y/N sat several tables away from him, trying to draw her gaze to his. After a while her eyes met his and he smiled back at her, having no intention of averting his eyes despite being caught staring. He wanted her to know how difficult it was for him to tear his gaze away from her, and he enjoyed her light blush in response.

Aeron and Y/N continued to shoot glances at each other throughout the banquet, agitated by the distance that separated them he couldn't help fidgeting in his seat and bobbing his knee up and down constantly as he waited for his uncle to announce when the dancing could begin. He was fully prepared to take the distance at a run and sweep Y/N into his arms for as many dances as she would allow before Ser Renly or another knight had the same idea.

When his uncle finally clapped his hands to command the attention of the room and invite his guests to dance, Aeron shot up before the minstrels had even begun to play. Unfortunately his idiot cousin Edmund had been closer and beat him to it, pulling a reluctant looking Y/N to the dance floor as he watched on. He made a mental note to thrash Edmund later, he did not think his Uncle or Edmund's father would care all that much if he broke his nose.

He watched his lady's face carefully for any sign of discomfort, noting that Edmund seemed to be doing most of the talking. Borish brute. It was only when he saw Y/N's face fall and her eyebrows furrow that he decided to step in and rescue his lady, crossing the distance in a few paces.

"Mind if I cut in cousin?" The question would have seemed amicable enough to an onlooker but Aeron made sure to give Edmund a look that assured him of dire consequences should he argue. Shrugging carelessly he released Y/N, Aeron waisting no time in wrapping his arm around her waist and taking her smaller hand in his. "Of course, Y/N I hope you will consider what I've said." Before Aeron could ask what he meant by that Edmund had stalked away. Turning to Y/N and placing her hand on his shoulder he began to lead them in the steps of the dance. He was relieved to finally be able to hold Y/N in his arms as he had wished to all evening but Edmund's comment had rattled him.

"May I enquire as to what Edmund was referring to Y/N? I hope he did not bother you or behave poorly. I will rearrange his pompous features for you if you like." Y/N snorted in amusement, though he hadn't really been joking, and pressed his shoulder affectionately. "Worry not, I can handle a fool like Edmund. He just likes to meddle. Give it no more thought." Aeron disliked not knowing what had caused the look of distress on his lady's face, but forced himself not to press her if she did not want to reveal it to him. Instead, he made good on his promise to himself from earlier that evening.

"You must allow me to tell you how beautiful you look, I have been driven to distraction all evening because of it. You shine more brightly than any star my love." Y/N beamed up at him and discretly brushed her hand against his cheek before returning it back to his shoulder. "Thank you my handsome knight, and for my part I apologise for distracting you." Aeron laughed heartily at that before placing her hand closer to his heart and leaning down to whisper in her ear "I would gladly be distracted by you for the rest of my days, I can think of no better sight to gaze upon than my lady love." Suddenly twirling her away from his body as the dance required, he raised their arms as she placed a hand on his waist and they spun slowly in the spot. Impervious to everything else around them, they gazed lovingly into one another's eyes.

Aeron had hoped to dance with Y/N again but as the final note of the music rang out he spotted his uncle beckoning him over to the head table at the other end of the hall.

Grabbing both of Y/N's hands he placed a kiss upon her knuckles and reluctantly walked away from her to take his place beside his uncle, who was preoccupied with arresting his guest's attention oncemore. Aeron could not have known that his Uncle's next words would dismantle all of the happiness he had felt that evening, having finally been able to dance with Y/N instead of watch her longingly from a distance. "Revered guests, I have an announcement to make which will bring good tidings to House Bracken and to all those who support the true king Aegon Targaryen. Lord Tully has consented to marry his eldest daughter Roslyn to my nephew Aeron. In so doing we will bind our houses with blood and forge a bond strong enough to finally oust the treacherous Blackwoods who support their false queen. I welcome Lord Tully and Lady Roslyn to our festivities."

Aeron's head turned so sharply in the direction Lord Bracken waved his hand so as to almost give himself whiplash. And there on the other end of the high table, where they had not been before, sat Lord Tully and his daughter. She at least looked just as put out by his uncle's announcement as he surely did. Her face tight with anger she barely repressed.

Time seemed to have frozen in this moment of horror as Aeron frantically looked over at Y/N to see her reaction, and try to tell her with his eyes what he could not across a room of watching spectators. That he was hers alone, that he had no intention of marrying the Tully girl. That it had always been his greatest wish to marry her if she would consent to be his wife. Pain tore through his chest as her expression crumpled and he could see tears beginning to well up in her eyes, before she quickly turned and fled from the room, from him.

Bless the pretty wee Bracken. God love him but he's an eejit and he has a lot of explaining to do to Y/N. Angst incoming.

@lovebabe18 @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress @alexandracgg

[k-s-morgan]

TGSTLTH related

Ok so I decided to do it here cuz I don't know will AO3 allow me to write essay hahahahah 😂😂😂

I don't even know how to start this. I've been reading fics for 13 years straight, like I don't remember the period of my life where I didn't read them cuz I always have some ship active and I'm crazy BL fan. Only a small number of them can make me crazy to the point I don't wanna sleep, eat, skipping my obligations, killing the pain and your sebaciel did everything. I haven't felt like this reading fic..,maybe ever? This is totally another level of me being fascinated by some writer.

I adore sebaciel, I'm in fandom since 2016 but the biggest problem I had with their fics is that - either people go too much OOC with them orr they rush up the things between them, going quickly with sex and feelings. It bothered me so much so I was crawling for good SC fics as crazy!!

After some break with SC, I came back to ao3 and saw your long fic. I started reading it but I dropped it after 3 chapters, I got bored cuz I thought you are gonna just re-type manga and do classic thing which another people do. Quickly, I got disappointed with another one and idk how but I decided to give your fic one more chance and dear lord......that was one of the best thing I have ever read. Maybe even the best.

Like, how smart are you? What's your IQ? Your manage to explain me some things about Kuro plot which I haven't udnerstand by myself. And the way you write Sebaciel relationship. That's everything I have ever wanted. Everything. They have normal conversation and that's it, that's all I need cuz there is everything. I feel electric every time when they talk, fight, do things together, goood the little touches svbjhsdjvbvbvbvbvbsdjvhbdf. I was tense whole fic. I read it for like 10 days, abandon everything until I finished it and now I feel sad ahahhaahha. But you are really something special, cuz I always used to say that manga itself is the best fiction cuz Yana knows the best how to create good Sebaciel energy. You, next to Yana, did the best job. You kept them as they are, never broke the character, and that's what I am most grateful. Slow burn, with drama and angst, love and attention, all misunderstanding, you put all necessary spices for 5 star meal. My fav part is when Ciel told Sebastian to add slamming doors to his most dramatic moments of his life ahahahahahahhaha 😂😂 I laughed like crazy, they are so precious♥ And I really wanted kiss to happen when Ciel lied Sebastian about another demon, that was sooo svbjhsvjhjhvbdf. But okay, you know the best, I trust you fully with this♥

The fact that they are ready to kill each other before they have normal conversation about their feeling is my fetish. I am in love with toxic things. Ciel ready to throw all game just to prove Sebastian that his value is not only his soul, right after he told himself for 1000 times he needs to stay on distance..... I LOVE ITTTT!!! I also need to say that you find PERFECT balance for good plot and romance. Your games and their cases...I just don't know, deep bow for you queen🔥💯After all, you didn't retype drama ahahaha but you manage to keep it canon without changing anything but still adding your spices so it's not ordinary Kuro plot we see every day....

I just have one question. From time to time, I was like a Bard ahahhaha, so sick of their games and my head hurting me, but on a good way. I am clear about Ciel but what about Sebastian and his disgust for Ciel's nicer, soft, emotional side? I know Ciel doesn't have it a lot, but would Sebastian still be grossed out about it as he was at the beginning of a contract or not? Keeping in mind that he is more and more obsessed with a boy?

So, that's all. I don't know how to use Patreon/PayPal, but for you I'll try cuz I only have credit card and that's all I know ahhahaha, I like to keep money in my hands😂 I'm sad about the situation in your country and all under - war countries. It's not bringing any good for anyone, specially for civilians. I hope you are okay and I wish you alll the best, the good karma must hit you really quickly cuz you made one person really, really happy here♥

Looking forward how will you finish this story, have a nice day❤

PS - this is the longest comment for fic I have ever left ahhaha, it's crazy how you got me sooo hyped up bjcvsdghvbds.

Hi! Ooh, thank you so much for your amazing, wonderful essay! I can't tell you how happy it made me! I think the electricity was already started being cut off when I got it, so I could see I have some really lengthy ask, but it wouldn't load. It was the torture of the most delicious kind :D

Like you, I've been reading fics for ages now, and the moments where I find some fantastic story that won't let me sleep or work or even blink are always the happiest and the brightest spots I remember. So it's extremely flattering to know that my story has become something similar to other people.

I love writing about smart characters, but most of them are definitely smarter than me! The benefit is that since I'm writing, I can think and plan everything in advance. In real life, I only wish I were as quick-witted and inventive. Alas, the best ideas and arguments come to me when they are no longer needed.

I love slow burns, and I love characters who abhor the idea of expressing their feelings, so Ciel and Sebastian have the most perfect dynamic in my eyes. I feel like I could spend the eternity just enjoying their Gothic world with their games, arguments, plots, and so on. Them antagonizing each other only to instantly team up against the common enemy is my most favorite thing in the world.

As for your question, right now, Sebastian would be thrilled if Ciel were to show a softer and more vulnerable side - at least in relation to him. Well, a part of him would feel the automatic need to mock him for it anyway, some habits don't die easily, but Sebastian's feelings have evolved a lot, plus Ciel is cold more often than he is not. So Sebastian treasures every word of praise, every hint of appreciation and need because they are so rare - he's come to crave them, and he has memorized all known cases of them by heart.

And no worries about supporting me! I really appreciate you taking your time to leave such a fantastic review, it made my day!

[brucewaynehater101]

HELLO LOVE <3333 kissing all ur posts on the head I'm loving loving the things u do on here !!! WOAHS !!! LIKE U ARE SO CREATIVE AND COOL bringing u silly flowers !!! Getting u a silly bouquet bouquet

:0 actually, I also wanted to hear what make you like Tim !!! What specifically makes him tick for you, what nuances you'd like people to understand about him and his story etc etc !!! I love hearing ppls interpretations (esp since I... myself am not particularly fond of him ;-; but !!!! I do do want to understand what makes people love him) so if you wouldn't mind :D that'd be swell to hear !!!! THANK U DEAR

You're so sweet, my lords. Thank you ^^ I appreciate the bouquet 💐

Also, I completely understand why some people don't like Tim. His 90's era chaotic self is fantastic, but also a bit misogynistic. DC also likes to throw him in every comic that has a Robin in it and try to smother him back into that role. I haven't seen this happening, but I've also heard that Tim fans can be assholes.

So yes. I 100% understand why some folk aren't the hugest fans.

Tim, for me, though, is so dear. Few reasons why:

His story is so fucking sad, my lords

His attitude is hilarious

He's badass and chaotic

He reminds me too much of my younger self

All the Bats are tragic. Ain't a single one who isn't. I typically like BAMF tragic characters.

Tim's story as Robin is fucking devastating. Hit after hit after hit he takes. Yet, he keeps going. I would not have survived what he did.

All the other batkids have sad stories, hilarious wit, are badass, and cause chaos. They share those wonderful qualities with Tim.

I also just really love how Tim's relationship with Bruce is different during his initial years as Robin (with only Steph and Duke being comparable). He wasn't Bruce's kid first. Tim didn't want nor need a parent. He also felt like he had to help Bruce (when a kid shouldn't be taking care of adults. Parentification sucks ass).

Tim became Robin for Bruce. The other Robins became Robin for themselves (which isn't bad! It's actually really rad how Robin helped them [and cursed them but whatever]).

Just... Tim didn't want to be Robin initially, and that strikes a chord. Then there's him working his ass off for that mantle. He's a little shit, but he's Tim.

There's also how YJ is treated by the other heroes.

There's Tim living in Jason and Dick's shadow.

It's the likeness to my younger self that really hits home.

If you don't want any personal details, the bottom line is that a lot of his history/characterization hits home.

Now... Tim is dear to me due to how much he resembles my younger self. I love Jason as well due to him representing more of my older self. However, Tim's thought processes are closer to mine. I also tend not to get angry often.

For history, my parents consistently chose work and alcohol over family. I had to take care of them. I often played mediator, family clown, or scapegoat (which is why I also relate to Jason [I go feral at those horrendous lines Bruce says to him. Have your parents ever stated regret for how they raised you? Have they ever hurt you and demanded you thank them? Fucking hell, Jason. I may not have died, but your relationship with Bruce is killing me]). I was considered "gifted" or smart in comparison to my siblings, despite them being extremely intelligent (they were in honor classes as well). I'm the middle kid, but I emotionally took care of my younger sibling after I turned fifteen (even though we used to get into horrendous fights).

Anyways, Tim has a pathetic mess of a background, but he's badass as well. He's self-sufficient because he had to be, and he's good at it.

I like smart characters that outwit their opponent. I like seeing Tim win.

[thethirdromana]

Dracula's roommates, in gifs

All gifs by talented tumblr gif-makers, commentary by me. I haven't seen most of the films so all commentary is on vibes alone.

Dracula (1931)

Full marks for spookiness, and here we have a book-accurate two brunettes and a blonde. I'm impressed by the amount of fabric that these ladies are collectively wearing, especially given that the front hem of their dresses is longer than floor-length. I wonder how many takes they had where they just tripped up and faceplanted the spooky stone floor?

Brides of Dracula (1960)

There are only two brides in this, as part of the plot is the acquisition of a third bride. The main vibe these two give me are of a sleepover just as the edibles are kicking in. They seem very friendly. Might get the munchies later though.

Dracula (1968)

It's hard to tell from the gif, but this is what Wikipedia claims to be the only version where one of the brides of Dracula is black (on the left, played by Nina Baden-Semper). I'm surprised more adaptations don't do this, given the physical description we get only requires that two are dark and one fair. Sadly they don't get any dialogue in this, just some expressive hand-movements.

Count Dracula (1977)

Dear lord, could this be more 70s?? The hair, the dresses, the makeup, even what I assume is a cod-medieval tapestry could only be from one decade. I don't much like the kind of brattish submissiveness happening in this gif (ymmv, of course). But apparently one of them is French, which is fun.

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992)

Interesting how much more active the brides become as the years go on. I mean, the lip-licking is right there in the text, but this feels very full on compared with the coquettish earlier brides. They do look fabulous though - so fabulous that all other brides follow the same model from this point onwards.

Dracula 2000 (2000, unsurprisingly)

A modern-day Dracula provides us with some modern-day brides, though in essence they're much the same as the 1992 ones. I have never seen anyone on Tumblr ever mention this film, which makes me suspect that it's atrocious.

Van Helsing (2004)

Dracula starts off with three brides in Van Helsing but if I remember correctly, they don't appear on screen at the same time (if they do, I couldn't find a gif of it). I kind of wish they'd gone for the period-ish costumes of the ballroom scene for the brides, but instead we get 1992 again, in both costume and general red-lipped vampishness.

[aiyanakopa]

hi! for the art asks:

2) 5 favourites of your own work?

21) Weirdest thing you've ever drawn?

and for the fun of it: 25)Based on your recent reference searches, what would the FBI assume about you?

thank you! 😊

thank you for sending these! 💕

2. 5 favourites of your own work?

they always change tbh! but right now I'll go with these:

specifically this sketch of hange and nifa from my hange squad post

mildly spicy levihan

veteran trio riding their horsies

my first levihan sketch page (which is looking a little rough now but I hadn't had so much fun drawing in ages so it's very dear to me)

and to break up the aot brainrot a bit, daisuga with the karasuno first years

there's also a bunch I really like that I haven't actually posted yet 👀

21. weirdest thing you've ever drawn?

oh I've got plenty of weird stuff hiding in the deep recesses of my old hard drives, but mostly just in the sense that I drew it when I was 12 and now I find it cringe 💀 the most fun one though is a ponysona of robin lord taylor (the actor) that I drew as a gift for a friend from DA who really liked him (and from memory I think they ended up getting a plushie made based on it?)

25. based on your recent reference searches, what would the FBI assume about you?

I wish I had actual examples but my browser likes to clear my history after a while and I've been BUSY 😭 based on the references I had to search for my last post they'd probably assume I'm having a kid or that I'm getting into gardening

also it's very fun to look at my search history on my ipad specifically bc I only use it for art, so it ends up being like. 20 searches in a row of the same fucking 3 anime characters (I'm sure you can guess which ones) and looking at that you might also think I'm a little unhinged

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Do you have any recommendations on Dr. Who books/audio format things? I haven't watched the show in a bit because Moffat wasn't my thing and I can't seem to find the old stuff. (If you have any advice on where to find that too I would be very grateful) Following your blog has been a nice reminder of why I liked the show so much. Hope you have a good day!

Aw thank you! Depending on your location, you can find classic who episodes either on BBC iPlayer or Tubi (with ads).

As for books/audios, I'll try to keep this brief as I could write an essay on this.

For books, my favorite author is Kate Orman. Orman writes wonderfully, and my personal favorite is The Year of the Intelligent Tigers. I also really liked Goth Opera, Camera Obscure, History 101, Autumn Mist, Lungbarrow, Divided Loyalties, Somewhere Never etc etc etc etc (so many more but I'm forcing myself to stop here). You can often find free versions of basically every novel (at least all I've looked for) on the internet either as pdfs or epubs or whatever. The Internet Archive is particularly useful. Some examples:

And now for the audios! I personally have sold my soul to Big Finish. I have literally hundreds of recommendations. They do have some audios for free, such as those that came from the Paul Spragg Memorial Competition. You can also find a lot of them (up until Zagreus I think) for free on Spotify. There is also almost always a killer sale going on on the website on top of that too.

As for my recommendations, it's pretty dependent on what Doctor or companion you want to listen to. They even have series centered on UNIT, Romana's Gallifrey, Benny Summerfield, and a ton of other things (including a Masterful special that just had a bunch of Masters fucking around and finding out). I'll put in some of my favorites, one for each Doctor, from what I own (which is far from everything, but I do my best).

One: The Sontarans. It was the first time the Doctor had ever encountered the Sontarans, so he was unfamiliar with them. It takes place during Dalek Master Plan, so Steven and Sara are there.

Two: Lords of the Red Planet! It's a good Ice Warrior origin story and has Jamie and Zoe in it. :)

Three: Terror of the Master. I had pre-ordered it as soon as I heard about it. Three....Delgado Master....what more do you want from an audio? It's narrated by Jon Culshaw.

Four: The Wrath of the Iceni. It was a brilliant historical with Four and Leela and Boudica. Leela gets quite a lesson in this one, first being mad at Four for not helping Boudica and then at Boudica for being cruel.

Okay now we are getting into my favorite Doctors (5-8), so these decisions are going to get difficult.

Five: The Kingmaker! Shakespeare spikes Five's drink to get him absolutely wasted to sneak on the TARDIS, the TARDIS gets hiccups as a result, leading to Peri and Erimem being separated from the Doctor. Shenanigans ensue.

Six: Doctor Who and the Pirates. Six and Evelyn have a really meaningful discussion with one of her depressed students. The third part is a musical!

Seven: The Shadow of the Scourge. Benny Ace and Seven against 8th dimensional eldritch abominations. Seven gets turned into one of these insectoids, and body horror ensues.

Eight: Oh dear I can't choose. At the moment, probably the Great War from Dark Eyes 1. Eight meets Molly and is still grieving here. He is very much doomed by the narrative.

War: The Neverwhen. Lots of the War Doctor is good if you like Time War horror, but this one has a lot of time-as-a-weapon and is well written.

Nine: Battle Scars. A nice short story about that one family Nine saved from the Titanic mentioned in the episode Rose. Has a really fantastic girl in it and a Nine dripping in PTSD.

Ten: The Time Reaver. Ten and Donna! There's this gun that basically slows down time for a single person, so that a few minutes for everyone else is centuries for them. Ten is a self sacrificing dope.

Eleven: The Geronimo boxset is the best in my opinion, but I haven't been able to listen to many of these yet.

Twelve: Another one I haven't managed to buy a lot of yet, but Dead Media is amazing. It's written to sound like a podcast with adverts and everything and is set during his time at St. Luke's. And I cried at the end.

Anyway, I'll shut up now. This was so much fun! Thank you!

[hooked-on-elvis]

I-AM-LITERALLY-IN-TEARS

IF YOU HAVEN'T READ OR HEARD A THING ABOUT LISA'S BOOK YET, DON'T READ THIS POST IF YOU'RE NOT UP FOR SOME SPOILERS. ALSO, SENSITIVE CONTENT (MINOR AB***). DO NOT READ WATCH THE VIDEO OR READ THIS IF YOU'RE NOT MENTALLY HEALTHY ENOUGH TO. TAKE CARE. ♥

Hey, I am hearing and reading some things from Lisa's book. I don't have the full picture, but I'm so bothered at the things I'm listening from people who read the book that I need to put it out. Those are just MY THOUGHTS. I'm not saying Priscilla felt this or that, I'm trying to understand the whole situation. I thought about if I should publish this or not, but I just had to put it out... this is killing me. We all feel so protective of Elvis and Lisa... Hearing about something like this happening is just a nightmare.

Now, somebody tell me, for the sake of God, how can someone know something like that is happening to their child and do nothing? Tell the guy to apologize? Seriously?! Priscilla was in a power position now. She could have thrown that fucking bastard in jail in a blink of an eye. WHY NOT TO DO IT THEN?

My God! If Elvis was alive back then and even imagined something like this was happening to his baby girl he would probably kill every damn person in the way until he got to Edwards - and that would be not only threat anymore, E would've killed him barehanded. LORD! I'm so sorry, so sorry for dear Lisa not having her dad there to protect her.

I'm trying to figure out what was in Priscilla's mind. Okay, Lisa was not an easy individual like most kids/teenagers aren't. I know I wasn't! But let a "step-dad" spank your child? Let him throw a tantrum at your young girl like he had any right to? Let him yell at her? I mean, this is firstly and foremost about what a fucking monster that Edwards guy is! That guy is disgusting, a fucking sicko! "That's how they do in Europe"???!!! Oh my God, I don't even have the words to put out how I feel right now.

Really, let's not talk about Elvis as if he was a savior tho. He should've taken better care of himself because he had a daughter to take care but let's not forget he was an addict (and also was physically ill, not only mentally). He was lost and needed help, but never found the kind of help he needed. He can't be blamed for dying because at the same time his mind probably would never imagine someone would have the guts to approach his child that sick disturbed way. I thought about the kind of thinking Elvis must've had when he near death... and he probably felt Lisa was safe with her mom.

But Priscilla? She was in a good state of mind, good enough to be a mom and protect her child, at least. Okay, a single mom, a young and beautiful woman who was thinking about her career and "recovering" from the "lost youth" being just someone's girlfriend/wife... but then, completely make your child feel like she wasn't wanted? Tell you teenager girl "who do you think you are?" Because those are the words Lisa used. I mean. MAN! If Elvis ever done a mistake is his life was bringing Priscilla from Germany. Lisa is no mistake - as a strong woman she made herself to be, a woman I highly admire, a loving mom, a bold artist - but she was just broken since an early age. And it's not exclusively because Elvis died, it's also because of the divorce before that and the tabloids harassment.

Priscilla always looked proud while saying how she was the strict parent and Elvis was the permissive one... Look at what the cold treatment she gave Lisa did to her! Had this young girl seen more love and tenderness, she maybe wouldn't have to endure such a hard life.

Now, there's many, many, many layers to this discussion.

Was Priscilla also traumatized with her childhood? Did she felt impotent as a parent, and with no one to turn to because every step she took could end up in the tabloids? (It did anyway) How can we begin to try to understand her cold and distant attitude towards her first child? Did she had some kind of postpartum depression that made her resent her daughter? I don't know. Maybe Priscilla severely needed help. Listening to little somethings from Lisa's memoir book I kinda have the same feeling I did when I read Priscilla's memoir. That she was bitter about Elvis, that she didn't forgave him for not being a good husband, that she was resentful of him, very very hurt... and somehow she threw that on Lisa, partially. Lisa says Priscilla treated her second child much better than her. That says something, doesn't it?

Like I said the other day, I can understand Priscilla in some levels... I'm a woman too, I can try to wear her shoes. But that thing about Michael Edwards just crushed me. Still I'm trying to understand.

Priscilla seems to have been frustrated with the life she figured she would have being Elvis' wife and having Elvis' kid, and when things turned out not as easy and dreamy as expected (and I don't blame her for picturing a life with the King as a fairy tale... anyone would imagine a life with the most handsome and famous rock star on earth and having his child would be so perfect!), when she saw things were not that dreamy Priscilla felt so frustrated that she just decided to let her heart go completely cold, you know?

It makes sense in my mind. Think about it... She just divorces Elvis and goes dating another guy without even caring for how he would look - concerning the damage that would make to his public image specially - and then letting horrible things happen to his (their) daughter as if "you're troubled, you shouldn't even have been born... just leave me alone" kind of vibes.

Again, those are just MY THOUGHTS. I'm not saying Priscilla felt this or that.

To be fair, we're talking about a Priscilla from over 40 years ago, not Priscilla today. People make mistakes because they're not in a good state of mind and then they get better and change. People are not just one thing or another, we are not just black or white... we come in shades of grey. Many different shades. Lisa also says in her book that she was able to find common ground with her mom later in their lives, that at some point she was able to connect with her better, specially after Lisa had her children, Priscilla's grandchildren. Apparently Priscilla was/is a great grandmother so we can imagine Lisa forgave her.

One thing is certain... We can't speak for other people, but it's strange the kind of decisions Priscilla made. Oh my... this book is causing a big damage to Priscilla's public image alright. If Elvis fans didn't like her, now much lesser.

Discussion is open, let's just try to be gentle and reasonable.

[evilminji]

I recently read your DPxDC post comparing the Ghost Zone to Yggdrasil.

Ans I've been playing Elden Ring again lately, mostly because the Lore in it keeps dragging me back.

And I think you'd like the concept of Erdtree Burial. It even matches up with your post.

Imma try my best to explain the concept so Spoiler starts here:

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

Anyways, so Erdtree Burial means to take a recently dead body of someone who committed grand feats and/or is worthy of honor, and place them to rest amidst the roots of the Erdtree (which is basically Yggdrasil vut legally distinct).

The Tree itself will then take the soul and memory of the deceased and etch them upon itself, preserve their soul and remember them.

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

What if the Erdtree is that world's link to the World Between Worlds?

So, can you imagine all these Elden Ring Demigods, Honourable Dead and Great Fighters occasionally taking a leisurely stroll out of their Afterlife Home amidst the branches of the Erdtree to go visit the Ghosts that live in the Zone?

Random giant dude passes by, twin Greatswords at his back, and goes to grab a whole 20 barrels of ecto-ale to bring back to his friends.

Danny, coming back from visiting Clockwork, has to do a double take, and ask the bartender some questions.

"While was that guy? He looked a little too golden to be a Ghost"

"Ah, that's just Radahn. He says he's a General or something. That he once held back the stars all by himself. Apparently fought some wars, and they still needed like 20 great warriors fighting together to put him down after he went senile. Hogwash, if you ask me."

Danny hears that the guy used to throw hands with celestial bodies regularly, and knows exactly where he'll be for summer vacation.

If the Tarnished player character is already Elden Lord by then, I can definitely see Danny coming back wearing the Twinned Armor set.

(Especially if it's my Strength/Faith/Arcane character. She used the Butcher's Knife greataxe, with the Stormcaller Ash of War and a Bleed enchantment, plus Rot Dragon and Black Flame spells)

Hello yes! I DO enjoy this thought! You were ABSOLUTELY correct!

Haven't played the game? But? Now? I CAN NOT get the idea of the Zone itself being The Erdtree out of my head?

Great and endless. With roots and manifestations, that may or may not reach into the world it cradles, that will imprint upon itself souls of those buried close. That it may cherish them FOREVER.

Are we within in it? Held by it? Consumed? It is not for our mortal minds to know. Perhaps not even for gods to know.

But, oh. OH! What made Danny so DIFFERENT? No answer found in his world. No answer found anywhere near it. Yet? Here they know it. A simple answer, given freely. It feels almost unfair. Like he has been cheated of catharsis. As though he should have had to fight and scrape and FORCE them to speak.

They can not even begin to understand, what it is like. Being so alone.

Or maybe... maybe they can.

He's not sure which he wants more. Which he fears is true.

For what was the portal? If not sharp blade cut into the celestial earth? Plunging into starlight soil and primordial soup, to the tangled roots of something greater. A tree. THE tree. Dragging back that soil and nicking those tightly woven, buried things. A welling of ichor, golden and green and DIVINE.

A plunging of that blade into his heart.

His lifeblood with the tree's.

A pathway where none could ever have been.

Oh, what rituals we blindly perform. Our ignorance of their meaning does not give them less power, only leaves us unguarded. It does not have to be on ancient stages and with ancient things, to be a ritual. It can be a laboratory. A machine instead of a ritual blade.

Still a thing forged by Father's and Mother's hand, that killed the Son.

And then Again, through the twist of Time, by dear friends hand, first in ignorance now twice in knowing, killed again.

Twice Half Dead, Is A Corpse. And Thus, With The Tree.

Cradled and loved. Etched forever into itself. Perhaps even a bit more so, for the difficulties of his birth. For how rarely does the Erdtree bleed. How rarely the Zone spill its Divine blood. A little starlit snowflake, flitting along its many paths. Cradled in its heart. So clever and bright.

The problem, I imagine? Is that such a Divinity? Has a very distinct nature. You give unto them. They take. They cherish. They do not return.

And Danny is being a Trouble Child. Sneaking off into Worlds, mostly his own, and NOT staying in the Zone. The Tree's domain. Other Gods have power in those places! Child, cease! That is dangerous! It is like a mermaid deciding to go climb the alps. Even if she CAN make legs for herself, that is WAY to far from the safety of her God's domain! Are you mad, child!? Have you heard of acceptable Risk?!

Danny has. It made a whooshing noise as he tossed it out the window.