#demanded to make the sacrifices no one will ever honour

[torchwood-99]

Eowyn has such strong tragic anti!villain energy and all of Middle Earth should be on their knees thanking God that she never fully embraced it (though it would have been sexy as fuck).

[kayharrisons]

It's a goddamn blaze in the dark, and you started it [Bjorn x fem! Reader] [18+] [2 of?]

Bjorn can't help but feel fascinated by her. Can't help but watch her, but want her.

The ex boyfriend has to go.

A/N: been a minute since I've posted for this one gang! But HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @spikedfearn EHEHEHE hbd bestie hope this is what you had in mind for an update 🤭 we got some unhinged Bjorn this chapter gang! Also some of that tagged incest with kaybjorn a h h reader is not super in this chapter, it's a lot of Bjorn perspective mostly!

Warnings: manipulation, cults, obsession, murder, violence, pregnancy mentions, incest (Kaybjorn), sex, coercion, basically everything that happens in Midsommar my dudes

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You move your food around a lot on your plate when you're hungry.

Bjorn can't help but watch from across the table. Six people away from you.

He'd sacrifice them to the Gods in a heartbeat if it meant he got to be sitting across from you, or beside you.

The Gods wouldn't smite him, he's sure. For you and he were destined, fated. He'd known it from the second Tyler had sent those pictures, had filled him in on your life, what you were like.

He hadn't spoken more than a couple of words to you, had only touched you during that one meeting, and he knows he's going to take you for a wife.

The only person he's ever considered other than you is his cousin Kay.

Sweet Kay with her beautiful face, her wonderful laugh, the child growing in her belly that is undoubtedly his.

He'd been honoured, of course, when he and his cousin had been chosen for the ritual, the conceiving of a prophet. Once Kay has given birth to their newest prophet, their child, she will receive the veil, will live her new life of celibacy.

But oh, Kay had looked radiant that night, in her embroidered white dress, flowers in her curly hair, her lips and cheeks stained with rouge.

She'd looked even more radiant by candlelight, when he'd torn her dress from her like a man possessed, when he'd damn near folded her in half and thrusted into her so hard the makeshift bed had damn near broke beneath them.

He still thought about her sweet sighs, her mouth parted in pleasure, her legs locked tight around him to keep him inside of her, to keep his seed deep inside.

He wonders if you make those same sounds, if you part your lips when you're fucked. Do you like to be on top? Below? Taken from behind?

He doesn't think he'd care much, so long as he got to have you.

You laugh at something Tyler says, nothing but friendship to the sound. He worries little about your closeness to Tyler. His cousin is devoted to Rain, will be wedded to her in a week's time.

He does, however, worry about your ex boyfriend.

Bjorn's fingers tighten around his fork, stabbing the venison on his plate with vitriol, his blood boiling in his veins.

The man hungers for you, everyone can see that.

But would he cherish you? Would he care for you? Would he hold you?

Bjorn doubts it.

True, he lusts for you, more than he's ever lusted for anyone. But he'd worship you, first. If you so demanded of him, he'd fall at your feet and devote himself, would pray, bring offerings, promise his soul-

Whatever it took, Bjorn was willing to give it.

Your ex boyfriend has to go, though.

He doesn't think you'll be too upset.

This morning, he'd seen you both. You with your pajama shorts shoved down your legs and your ex sloppily thrusting in and out of you.

Bjorn hadn't been able to see your cunt from his spot, but he had spied the disappointed look on your face, the shame. You felt ashamed of yourself for whatever reason.

Bjorn would make sure you had nothing but pleasure on your face when he fucked you. Shame did not belong in the bedroom, he'd make sure you knew that.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Do you love her?" Kay asks him later that day, when his mouth is busy at work between her thighs.

"Hm?" He hums, lost in the taste of her, the tanginess on his tongue that he swears could drive him mad with want.

"Tyler's friend, do you love her?" Kay asks, before sighing oh so sweetly as he slides two fingers inside of her with ease. "Oh, oh-"

"Shh, not so loud," he reminds her in a gentle whisper. Kay wasn't supposed to be touched, now. Wasn't supposed to be made love to now that she is pregnant.

Bjorn, while devoted to their religion, still enjoys bending the rules from time to time.

He's not fucked her since the night they conceived their child. But he's had her in other ways that aren't strictly forbidden.

It's not his fault that she looks so radiant these days, that he sees her squirming with frustration whenever he does something she finds arousing. And, well, she's the mother of his child. He has to help her, by any means necessary.

Her favourite way lately seems to be by him using his tongue, or his fingers.

"I'm going to marry her, Kay," he whispers against her clit, eyes flickering up to her face. It's contorted in pleasure, but her eyes remain locked on him.

There is no jealousy. Sad resignation, maybe, but above all, she looks happy for him.

"Good," Kay whispers, grinding herself against his face. Bjorn takes the hint and dives back in, spelling his name out on her clit as he crooks his fingers inside of her. Kay's mouth parts in a wordless cry, legs trembling around his head as her orgasm washes over her. He grins against her, resulting in Kay tugging sharply on his hair. "Don't be mean," she chides, chest heaving.

He'd apologise, but he's not sorry.

Bjorn shifts to lay beside her, wiping her release from his face and cleaning off his fingers, still savouring the tang of her on his tongue.

He wonders how you taste, how you look in the throes of passion.

He can't wait to find out.

"I'm worried," Kay admits to him, eyes glued to the mural on the ceiling of his commune bedroom. "About the baby. I know its... I know it's blessed, that it's lucky to become a prophet. But I just..."

He tangles their fingers together, shifting to lay on his side, his other hand coming up to gently run back and forth over her bump. "Everythin' will be fine, alright?" he reassures her, pressing a comforting kiss to her temple. "Promise."

Kay nods, still a touch uneasy as her hand joins his on her stomach. "Do you think she'll love the baby? Your chosen?"

Bjorn smiles at the mere thought of you, and he nods after a beat. "Might be a bit... difficult, at first. Some of the stuff we do isn't considered normal out there," he reminds Kay, who frowns a little at the reminder. "But give her time, alright? When she sees how loved the baby is, how much it means to all of us... She'll come around, I'm sure."

"How?" Kay asks, furrowing her brow.

Bjorn merely smiles at his cousin, pressing another kiss to her temple. "Cuz I'll make her, alright? She'll understand because I'll make sure she does."

You have to understand. He's chosen you for a reason, after all, beyond your pretty face. That's merely secondary to him.

Everything Tyler has told him about you, everything he's seen of you so far...

Yes, he's sure he can make you understand.

He has to.

[thrashkink-coven]

There’s a lot of gatekeeping and weirdly defined rules in the occult and spiritual spaces. I’m just gonna go ahead and say something that might ruffle some feathers, but hopefully it helps some confused or anxious folks out.

I see a lot of posts online and get a lot of questions about entities. Mainly “is it okay for me to work with this entity?” because of xyz reasons.

Firstly, let’s make something very clear. Cultural appropriation has a very specific definition. Cultural appropriation takes place when members of a majority group adopt cultural elements of a minority group in an exploitative, disrespectful, or stereotypical way.

I say this as a person of color that understands the negative impacts of cultural appropriation and racism. This may not be the popular opinion, but I don’t think that honouring or worshipping a God privately and quietly qualifies as this. There’s a big difference between appropriating a culture and their customs and worshipping a God you feel connected to.

So having said this, if you feel like a God, angel, daemon, or entity is reaching out to you… seriously dude just go with it. We can’t control which things pull us and which entities interact with us. To many of them, we’re all just humans. Our ideas of race and ethnicity are extremely wishy washy, especially on a universal scale. If you feel deeply connected to a deity or concept, let yourself fall into them. Seriously, genuinely. Learn as much about the as you can, do your research, and go with it.

If you’re ever anxious about revealing that entity to others because of fear of judgement or criticism, give them a personal name.

I can’t say this loud enough,

GIVE THEM A PERSONAL NAME!!

Within religion, spirituality, and the occult, we use archetypes all the time. Cultures constantly share archetypes and give them personal names in their languages. The God that you’re thinking about was likely syncretized at one point too.

If you want to work with Aphrodite but don’t feel comfortable calling her Aphrodite, call her something that feels right to you. If you feel extremely connected to Isis but you don’t feel comfortable using an Egyptian name, then give her a personal name! Your connection with that God will be all the more personal.

The Gods like, and sometimes demand worship. Their phonetic names are not the totality of their being. Chances are most of us aren’t even pronouncing them correctly anyways. If you think about Inanna when you say that name, then you’re praying to Inanna. If you want to call her something else, that’s okay.

“What about closed religions?!”

It is nearly impossible to self initiate oneself into a closed religion because their customs are kept niche to their group. Without guidance you wouldn’t know how to do these things properly. If you feel a pull towards an entity from another culture, again, do your damn homework, don’t just rush into it. Be considerate and respectful of their origins. I’m not saying that their cultural origin is unimportant, because it definitely is and your understanding and acknowledgment of that is crucial, but that does not necessarily mean that you have to be Canaanite or Phoenician to worship or work with Astarte. Understand how they were worshipped back then, and how they wish to be honoured now.

Please understand that having a relationship with a God is not the same thing as converting into a religion or appropriating traditional customs. Not all religion is organized. I worship Aphrodite in a very non traditional way according to the Greeks. That’s okay.

And likewise, a lot of deeply closed entities with specific cultural ties simply don’t reach out to people outside of their niche. They have their chosen people and stay within their realm of influence. It’s extremely rare for the Loa to connect with non voodoo practitioners, and Voodoo is a very complex practice that requires specific sacrifices and rituals. It is ill advised to make offerings to vodous without divination and instruction. It’d be very unobtainable for most people. I say this as someone with a practicing Voodoo/Obeah bloodline, even I don’t feel secure enough to delve into that kind of magick by myself.

There’s a lot of high tensions on the internet when it comes to these things. I’ve seen posts (mostly on Reddit) of practitioners heartbroken that they have to break up with Lilith, their angels, their infernals, or some other deity because they got chastised for it online.

I think the immortality of our Gods is beautiful. While many of their original chosen people are long gone, they still live on and find ways to connect with humanity today. That is a very good thing.

So guys, honestly, unless you’re excited to share your path with others and ready to receive criticism, keep your Gods to yourself. Enjoy and worship them on your own, and if you feel compelled to discuss them just give them a personal name. If your God is Hekate and you feel compelled to give her a personal name, just say that your deity is similar to Hekate whenever you discuss them. It’s that easy. There are already a thousand different Hekates that people associate with. There’s no reason why you can’t create one more.

Please enjoy your practice and your faith. Don’t worry so much about everyone else. The Gods know who you are, and they want to connect with you because they really like who you are. That’s a very very good thing.

[the-pen-pot]

Tier Spotlight: Artificer - $5/month (7 day free trial available!)

What's included: Access to drafts of many of my current WiP longer stories are available in this tier, including the next five chapters of Hiraeth (Merlin) before they go up on AO3.

There are also drafts of several other in-progress Merthur WiPs that haven't been posted elsewhere yet, as well as Sherlock and the Hobbit.

Additionally, you get to vote in polls to help me choose what to focus on writing in a particular month!

Note: All the first chapters of these drafts are available to read for non-patrons as well.

🌟See below the "keep reading" for WiP info and summaries!🌟

Merlin

King & Court (22 draft chapters available)

Summary: Loneliness is an insidious thing. When Merlin looks at Arthur, he sees not just a prince waiting for his time to rule, but a young man struggling to find his place in the world, with little help from anyone else.

The truth is, Arthur needs more than the friendship Merlin can offer. He needs people he can trust: men and women who will become his court and his confidants, and if he is going to survive to take the throne and lead Camelot into its golden age, he needs them sooner rather than later.

Finding loopholes in Uther’s laws is no easy feat. Court life is a dangerous game, but it’s one Merlin has every intention of winning so that Arthur can have knights of his choosing by his side.

And then there is the matter of his magic…

------

Love Is Never Lost (12 draft chapters available

Summary: Uther Pendragon has never approved of Arthur’s friendship with Merlin. There had been disappointed sighs and whispered warnings, but Arthur had never thought it would come to this: scars on Merlin’s back and a manservant made hollow and thin by cruelty.

Yet Uther’s efforts to drive a wedge between them instead bring Merlin’s greatest secret to light, and once the wound of secrecy has been purged, their healing brings them closer together than ever before.

Much to Uther Pendragon’s horror.

When Merlin disappears, Arthur is left questioning the true honour of the crown and the value of a kingdom forever stained by his father’s tyranny. Will he answer the call of duty, or will he sacrifice everything to chase the cries of his heart?

------

Sigh No More (5 draft chapters available)

Summary: Prince Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the Llamrei, would far rather spend his days patrolling Camelot's Waters than assume his place on the throne. Yet when he finds the wreckage of a vast ship and one lone survivor on board, nothing can prepare him for the path his life will lead.

Nor the demands his heart will make.

(Feral world-building Camelot with sailing ships AU)

The Hobbit

Quarantine (11 draft chapters available)

Erebor is saved from the dragon and beginning to rebuild, but Thorin, newly healed from the injuries of the battle, suddenly takes ill.

The sickness is a dwarf's worst fear: highly contagious and always fatal. Thorin locks himself away to die a slow death, alone. Of he would, if not for the persistence of a certain hobbit. Bilbo breaks into the royal chambers, effectively locking himself away with Thorin.

Except as the disease progresses, he begins to think it looks rather familiar. In fact, it's a common childhood illness, one hobbits have been able to cure for years.

------

Where The Heart Is (11 draft chapters available)

'There was an attack. Raiders. There was no warning of their coming.'  Gandalf sighed: the broken sound of someone who has failed in  their duty of care.  'They took everything they could carry, and  burned everything they could not. Many of the fallen were impossible to  recognise.' Gandalf leant on his staff, and the wizard looked more tired than Thorin had ever seen him. He swallowed, and Thorin wanted to  put his hands over his ears, because he knew, sick and certain, why there had been no more letters from Bag End.

'Bilbo is not among those who live.'

(Bilbo's presumed dead, but has actually been taken by raiders. Thorin must rebuild his kingdom with a broken heart, while Bilbo fights his way across the wild north, broken and bleeding, to make his way back to the mountain that has become his home. With bonus hobbits re-homing in Erebor.)

Sherlock

Guard of Diocletian (14 drafts chapters available)

'What's his Shift?' John asked, frowning to himself. Sherlock had not mentioned anything about another form. That in itself was not unusual. A lot of people were rather private about their alternative shapes. It was frowned upon to ask someone outright what creature they were when changed, but Mike was like him, baseline, and if he was going to live with this man then he needed to know what he could wake up to find one morning. Shedding on the furniture was one thing, but he had no real desire to find a strange, threatening animal in the living room one day.

'He isn’t one, is he?' Mike's eyebrows were up, his honest face truly puzzled. 'I've never seen him change, and he's been coming here for years. I mean, I suppose he could be, but...' Mike trailed off with a shrug. 'I think he's like us.'

John pursed his lips, tapping his cane on the floor as he shook his head. 'No, Mike, he is nothing like us.'

L'Appel Du Vide (Six Draft Chapters Available)

Hunters were a rarity. In fact, there was really only one family that  knew what they were doing and became a name to fear, but the last Van  Helsing had died in 1886. Well, the last male Van Helsing,  anyway. Still, that did not mean their unique genetic gifts had not been  passed down the female line, holding steady and sure even as the name  faded into memory. 'If I confirm your suspicion, what will you do?' 'You don't need to confirm it. I saw!' 'And yet you did nothing to stop me.'

Sherlock is a vampire, John is a Van Helsing. What could possibly go wrong?

[adiosnachito]

𝑙𝑎 hacienda de LALO SALAMANCA. [ 5 THINGS THAT LALO PERSONALLY REQUESTED TO HAVE IN HIS HOME & ARE THUS HUGE INDICATORS OF HIS PERSONALITY. ]

as a sign of gratitude and respect, lalo was gifted a personalised hacienda in chihuahua by his uncle don hector & partner don eladio. aside from his maid, gardener and other house members, lalo put in a request for the following five items to make his hacienda a home.

𝑢𝑛𝑜,⠀THE OUTDOOR BASIN.

dirty hands have no place in lalo's home. when returning home, lalo washes the blood & grit from his hands using this basin. he specifically requested a basalt basin, a stone which held great significance in ancient aztec culture. historians claim that basalt has an ‘inherent stoniness and roughness that long seemed appropriate to its subject matter, particularly the practice of human sacrifice.’

it would thus only be fitting for lalo to wash the life of his victims away down this basin, just before he tucks into his evening meal.

𝑑𝑜𝑠,⠀ABUELITA'S PLATES.

his sweet abuelita ... what would his home be without a little piece of her. lalo's kitchen is kitted out, in her honour, with crockery from her all-time favourite supplier. every time he sits down to enjoy a meal, he is reminded not only of his childhood, but of the reasons that he is in this position today: the beautiful, hard-working, courageous salamanca family. it reminds him to be thankful, but most importantly that blood is all.

𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑠, THE SPIRIT CELLAR.

but it isn't all so serious! lalo & the salamancas are rich, he's a bachelor, so of course he's gonna have a bit of fun when he can. below the living space of lalo's hacienda is a cellar for all of his spirit needs. a casual drinker, his two all-time favourites are tequila & mescal. in his cellar, lalo possesses a collection of both which could last a lifetime.

had lalo lived (aggressively side-eyes gustavo fring), he'd have potentially invested in an agave farm and his own, private distillery.

𝑐𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑟𝑜, THE LIBRARY.

an ex - law and society student of new mexico state university, lalo is an avid reader in his downtime. except, he doesn't allow himself much of it. his library is stockpiled with books on mexican and ancient aztec history, law & order and even crime novels. out of all the requested features, the library is his least used ... much to his dismay.

before their deaths, the library was mostly used by lalo's cook yolanda, his gardener cecilio & a young guard named ciro.

𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑜, THE BATHTUB TRAP DOOR. [ canon ]

a man like lalo salamanca can never be too careful. his final big request, which was more of a demand, was to have a failsafe installed in case he ever needed to escape. only lalo knows about this out of the entire household. it is located in his ensuite, as he personally never bathes and prefers to shower. activating the trapdoor will reveal a passage under his bathtub, which should guide lalo through a tunnel and out of the hacienda compound in emergencies.

no one is more valuable in that compound than he is.

[whitegoldtower]

For the first time ever I’m playing an orc! 🤩 And I may or may not be absolutely smitten with him.

His name is Moth, he’s a pale orc with white hair, and he’s a devout of Boethiah (for an orc, would be like being a Christian Satanist).

He lives for pain and its ✨intricacies✨, you see. (if you know who the inspiration is, you have taste)

He achieves divine strength through suffering, and is something of a flagellant. He wears a cilice garter, has a heavily scarred face, and his body is practically covered in tattoos. There are also small nods to Mephala in his tattoo designs, as he honours her, too as she aided Lord Boethiah in the Prince’s fight with Trinimac.

(The story goes that Trinimac led armies of elves against humans and Boethiah, seeing him as the strongest, consequently ate him to assume his shape in order to create the Orcs and Chimer. The Prince then essentially shat him back out and Trinimac became Malacath, a weaker and more vengeful version of his prior self.)

Moth rejects worship of Malacath in favour of worship of Boethiah, because the suffering he endured should have made him stronger, yet it instead twisted him into something less powerful. So in Moth’s eyes, Trinimac/Malacath failed, and the Orcs should instead owe their creation to Boethiah.

A hot take, and one that is widely unpopular with other orcs, hence why he keeps his distance. He keeps such a distance, in fact, that he joins the Volkihar Clan. Despite being a vampire, he remains ever faithful to Boethiah, seeing this extra layer of suffering (being unable to enter the sunlight and being forever hungry) as a way to gain strength through devotion. He also joins the dark brotherhood to satisfy his religious fervour for stealthy and bloody sacrifice.

The ultimate suffering, for him, however, is when Boethiah demands a sacrifice of importance to him, and he chooses his most beloved follower to slay at the Sacellum of Boethiah. He revels in his grief, sure that it will make him stronger…

But it gnaws away at him. He begins to question himself. He has Boethiah’s favour. He is the Lord’s champion. But at what cost?

If it hurts, he’s doing it right. Right?

One of two things is going to happen. The certainty, here, is he is going to see parallels between himself and Trinimac/Malacath. It’s just a case of ✨when✨.

Either he will recognise what has happened immediately and devote himself to Boethiah even more violently, refusing to become like Malacath in favour of remaining strong like Trinimac…

Or he will only recognise what has happened after he has become a vengeful, hollow, weakened husk of his former self.

(Also as a funny side note, due to some weird glitch/bug, Moth cannot swim. Dude sinks like a brick. He also gags whenever he has to test alchemy ingredients (even if they’re pleasant).)

[stoicbreviary]

"Character of the Happy Warrior"

William Wordsworth (1770-1850) 

Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he Whom every Man in arms should wish to be? —It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought Upon the plan that pleased his childish thought: Whose high endeavours are an inward light That make the path before him always bright: Who, with a natural instinct to discern What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn; Abides by this resolve, and stops not there, But makes his moral being his prime care; Who, doomed to go in company with Pain, And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train! Turns his necessity to glorious gain; In face of these doth exercise a power Which is our human-nature's highest dower; Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives; By objects, which might force the soul to abate Her feeling, rendered more compassionate; Is placable—because occasions rise So often that demand such sacrifice; More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure, As tempted more; more able to endure, As more exposed to suffering and distress; Thence, also, more alive to tenderness. 'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends Upon that law as on the best of friends; Whence, in a state where men are tempted still To evil for a guard against worse ill, And what in quality or act is best Doth seldom on a right foundation rest, He fixes good on good alone, and owes To virtue every triumph that he knows: —Who, if he rise to station of command, Rises by open means; and there will stand On honourable terms, or else retire, And in himself possess his own desire; Who comprehends his trust, and to the same Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim; And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait For wealth, or honors, or for worldly state; Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall, Like showers of manna, if they come at all: Whose powers shed round him in the common strife, Or mild concerns of ordinary life, A constant influence, a peculiar grace; But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which heaven has join'd Great issues, good or bad for human-kind, Is happy as a Lover; and attired With sudden brightness like a Man inspired; And through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw; Or if an unexpected call succeed, Come when it will, is equal to the need: —He who, though thus endued as with a sense And faculty for storm and turbulence, Is yet a Soul whose master bias leans To home-felt pleasures and to gentle scenes; Sweet images! which, wheresoe'er he be, Are at his heart; and such fidelity It is his darling passion to approve; More brave for this, that he hath much to love: 'Tis, finally, the Man, who, lifted high, Conspicuous object in a Nation's eye, Or left unthought-of in obscurity,— Who, with a toward or untoward lot, Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not, Plays, in the many games of life, that one Where what he most doth value must be won: Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray; Who, not content that former worth stand fast, Looks forward, persevering to the last, From well to better, daily self-surpast: Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth For ever, and to noble deeds give birth, Or He must go to dust without his fame, And leave a dead unprofitable name, Finds comfort in himself and in his cause; And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws His breath in confidence of Heaven's applause: This is the happy Warrior; this is He Whom every Man in arms should wish to be. 

IMAGE: Benjamin West, "The Death of Nelson" (1806)

[yhwhrulz]

Charles Spurgeon's "Morning & Evening" Devotional for September 9

Morning

“Have salt in yourselves.”

Mark 9:33-44 , Mark 9:49 , Mark 9:50

Mark 9:33 , Mark 9:34

This was the old evil, and it broke forth in many ways and at singular times. The Master spoke of his death, and the disciples spoke of pre-eminence. He was infinitely superior to the best of his followers, and in nothing more evidently so than in the unselfishness of his nature. Oh that we may have grace to keep clear of the apostles fault!

Mark 9:38

Surely this was a case of schism! John had in his bosom all the zeal of the high-churchman, and his fellow apostles shared the feeling. This unknown worker honoured the name of Jesus and was clothed in his power, and one would have thought that the apostles would have recognised him as a brother: but no, “ he followeth not us ” was enough to sour all their brotherly kindness, and they forbad the good man to cast out any more devils, or to do anything more in the name of Jesus. This was after the approved model of church ianity; we shall see in the next verse that it was not Christ ianity.

Mark 9:39 , Mark 9:40

Even if the man himself were not sincere, yet, for his own credit’s sake, he could not become an open opposer of the Lord. His aid was secured, so far, at least, that he could not become a reviler of that name by which he had wrought wonders. If the proud professors who reject all who dissent from them would at least remember that those whom they despise are not enemies of Christ, they might treat them with a little more consideration than they now do.

Mark 9:41 , Mark 9:42

offend or cause to stumble

Mark 9:41 , Mark 9:42

Beware, then, lest by word or act we cause any child of God to sin.

Mark 9:44

There is a worm undying, and a fire unquenchable. Let men say what they will, the wrath of God abides for ever upon those who die unsaved. It is worth while to make any sacrifice rather than fall for ever into hell.

Mark 9:49

Either we must be tried with fire here or hereafter. Self-denial and endurance of our Lord’s will must be the salt and the fire of our sacrifice in this life, or else the endless woes of the wrath of God shall be both preserving salt and con-sinning fire to us in another world. Far better to accept the light afflictions of to-day, than to endure the fierce flames of perdition.

To be sung or read

Behold, how good a thing it is,

And how becoming well,

Together, such as brethren are,

In unity to dwell!

Like precious ointment on the head,

That down the beard did flow,

E’en Aaron’s beard, and to the skirts

Did of his garments go.

As Hermon’s dew, the dew that doth

On Sion’s hills descend;

For there the blessing God commands,

Life that shall never end.

Evening

“When ye stand praying, forgive.”

Matthew 17:22-27

Matthew 17:22 , Matthew 17:23

He often spoke to them upon this point, and as they gradually comprehended his meaning their sorrow increased. He kept his death always before his mind’s eye, and frequently reminded his followers of it before it was accomplished; and now that his suffering work is finished, he would have it always present to the hearts of his people.

Matthew 17:24 , Matthew 17:25

But, as usual, he spake too quickly. He ought not to have committed his Master to the payment of a doubtful exaction.

Matthew 17:24 , Matthew 17:25

prevented or anticipated

Matthew 17:26

This tribute had not the divine sanction. The services of the temple, and the maintenance of the priests were otherwise provided for by the Mosaic law, and no annual poll tax had ever been instituted by God. Eastern kings in our Lord’s day levied tribute only upon the natives of conquered lands, and did not exact from their own people. It could not be supposed that the King of Grace would tax his own family.

Matthew 17:27

He paid the demand, but in such a way as to prove his own sovereign status. He paid as only God could do.

Matthew 18:21-35

Matthew 18:23 , Matthew 18:24

If of silver, these talents were worth between three and four millions sterling; if of gold, sixty millions.

Matthew 18:25-28

hundred pence: or about three pounds:

Matthew 18:25-28

This debt at the most was the millionth part of the former one.

Matthew 18:29

The attitude and words which had drawn compassion from his master were addressed to him in vain.

Matthew 18:30-35

God will deal with each of us upon the principle which sways our own life, and if we adopt a stern and severe mode of action, we must expect the same rule to be carried out in our case.

Copyright Statement This resource was produced before 1923 and therefore is considered in the "Public Domain".

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

4th April >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Easter Thursday 

(Liturgical Colour: White. Year: B(II))

First Reading Acts of the Apostles 3:11-26 You killed the prince of life: God, however, raised him from the dead.

Everyone came running towards Peter and John in great excitement, to the Portico of Solomon, as it is called, where the man was still clinging to Peter and John. When Peter saw the people he addressed them, ‘Why are you so surprised at this? Why are you staring at us as though we had made this man walk by our own power or holiness? You are Israelites, and it is the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of our ancestors, who has glorified his servant Jesus, the same Jesus you handed over and then disowned in the presence of Pilate after Pilate had decided to release him. It was you who accused the Holy One, the Just One, you who demanded the reprieve of a murderer while you killed the prince of life. God, however, raised him from the dead, and to that fact we are the witnesses; and it is the name of Jesus which, through our faith in it, has brought back the strength of this man whom you see here and who is well known to you. It is faith in that name that has restored this man to health, as you can all see.

‘Now I know, brothers, that neither you nor your leaders had any idea what you were really doing; this was the way God carried out what he had foretold, when he said through all his prophets that his Christ would suffer. Now you must repent and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, and so that the Lord may send the time of comfort. Then he will send you the Christ he has predestined, that is Jesus, whom heaven must keep till the universal restoration comes which God proclaimed, speaking through his holy prophets. Moses, for example, said: The Lord God will raise up a prophet like myself for you, from among your own brothers; you must listen to whatever he tells you. The man who does not listen to that prophet is to be cut off from the people. In fact, all the prophets that have ever spoken, from Samuel onwards, have predicted these days.

‘You are the heirs of the prophets, the heirs of the covenant God made with our ancestors when he told Abraham: in your offspring all the families of the earth will be blessed. It was for you in the first place that God raised up his servant and sent him to bless you by turning every one of you from your wicked ways.’

The Word of the Lord

R/Thanks be to `God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 8:2,5-9

R/ How great is your name, O Lord our God, through all the earth! or R/ Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

How great is your name, O Lord our God, through all the earth! What is man that you should keep him in mind, mortal man that you care for him?

R/ How great is your name, O Lord our God, through all the earth! or R/ Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

Yet you have made him little less than a god; with glory and honour you crowned him, gave him power over the works of your hand, put all things under his feet.

R/ How great is your name, O Lord our God, through all the earth! or R/ Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

All of them, sheep and cattle, yes, even the savage beasts, birds of the air, and fish that make their way through the waters.

R/ How great is your name, O Lord our God, through all the earth! or R/ Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

Sequence Victimae Paschali Laudes

Christians, to the Paschal Victim offer sacrifice and praise. The sheep are ransomed by the Lamb; and Christ, the undefiled, hath sinners to his Father reconciled.

Death with life contended: combat strangely ended!

Life’s own Champion, slain, yet lives to reign.

Tell us, Mary: say what thou didst see upon the way.

The tomb the Living did enclose; I saw Christ’s glory as he rose!

The angels there attesting; shroud with grave-clothes resting.

Christ, my hope, has risen: he goes before you into Galilee.

That Christ is truly risen from the dead we know. Victorious king, thy mercy show!

Gospel Acclamation Psalm 117:24

Alleluia, alleluia! This day was made by the Lord: we rejoice and are glad. Alleluia!

Gospel Luke 24:35-48 It is written that the Christ would suffer and on the third day rise from the dead.

The disciples told their story of what had happened on the road and how they had recognised Jesus at the breaking of bread.

They were still talking about all this when Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you!’ In a state of alarm and fright, they thought they were seeing a ghost. But he said, ‘Why are you so agitated, and why are these doubts rising in your hearts? Look at my hands and feet; yes, it is I indeed. Touch me and see for yourselves; a ghost has no flesh and bones as you can see I have.’ And as he said this he showed them his hands and feet. Their joy was so great that they still could not believe it, and they stood there dumbfounded; so he said to them, ‘Have you anything here to eat?’ And they offered him a piece of grilled fish, which he took and ate before their eyes.

Then he told them, ‘This is what I meant when I said, while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses, in the Prophets and in the Psalms has to be fulfilled.’ He then opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, ‘So you see how it is written that the Christ would suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that, in his name, repentance for the forgiveness of sins would be preached to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses to this.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[dreaming-of-the-reality]

Also to add in the fact that Rhaenyra would’ve never been prepared enough to be Queen for those other houses that didn’t like, nor believe in her right to the throne whilst her brothers still lived.

Rhaenys and Alicent learned the ways of the realm and used that to their advantage. They know how to rule through influencing a man’s decision because it’s the only way they can. Rhaenys already flat out told Rhaenyra the realm would rather put itself to the torch than see a woman ascend the iron throne.

Cersei and Margaery also learnt this. Cersei by influencing her two sons and Margaery also influencing Cerseis sons. When Cersei realised Margaery had taken over Tommen, she realised she had no power left because that power came from Joffrey and Tommen.

But besides that: Rhaenyra has never actually dealt with an issue herself, nor has she ever had to face misogyny to the extent that Rhaenys and Alicent have. The most from what I can remember was maybe the comment by Jason (?) Lannister when he said women take too long to get ready.

She got to sleep around, have bastards, dismiss marriage proposals herself (she was literally given the option of who she wanted to marry and said no to every single one of them) run around brothels, not be a virgin when married (Viserys knew), send her husband away so that she could marry her uncle… the list goes on.

The only reason she got away with it? Is because she would run to Viserys with tears and he would make demands and threats to anyone who ever pointed out her wrong doings. She was a spoiled Targaryen who had no care for duty, honour, sacrifice, and therefore ruling. Her display of shock and horror when someone points out her children are bastards strengthens this, she acted like it was the worst untrue insult to befall her… and it’s actually a fact. She was protected from the harsh reality by everyone around her, which would’ve made her weak to men who would object her right to the throne.

She was never taught how to rule, and the only reason she actually managed to get the other houses to stay loyal to her during the war, was because of Daemon. Rhaenyra (when she was younger or just before the war) never dealt out punishments herself, she always got Viserys or Daemon to do it for her.

Rhaenyra’s hatred and anger would’ve built up the longer men longed for her brothers to ascend, she would’ve 100% had them sent away to the wall or killed.

So I agree with the Greens decision to crown Aegon - it was their only protection

"Aegon and Team Green didn't need to take the throne, there was no need to, it's not like their survival depended on it because all the lords would've accepted Rhaenyra as heir! They promised her and her father that they would!"

Have y'all seen how women are treated in ASOIAF? The general view is that they're property, decoration, and/or pleasure/heir makers. You really think people in Westeros actually view Rhaenyra any differently just because she's a Targaryen and the last king said so? Add to this the scandals of the brothel sighting, killing Laenor, marrying Daemon, and trying to pass three obvious children as legitimate heirs? Obviously it's the sexism it's the misogyny it's a bad thing, but that's the world of ASOIAF. I would encourage anyone who thinks that women of this world aren't treated abhorrently to read the series. Even if one of the lords felt some type of way about Rhaenyra sitting the Iron Throne for whatever reason they would push for someone with an alternate claim, and that someone else would be her brother. To stop people from rallying to other claimants, Rhaenyra would have to make it so there are no other claimants.

[firebloodanddragons]

OF DRAGONS AND LAMBS - CHAPTER 3 (AEMOND TARGARYEN X READER)

Chapter Summary: Aemond has a duty to his family. You have a duty to your husband. And you both shall obey despite your clear reluctance or the nascent attraction you might feel for each other. But the fire of passion is quick to grow and not easy to extinguish.

Tags for this chapter: Slow Burn / Sexual Tension/ Protective! Aemond/ Orgy / Prostitution/ Violence / /!\ S*xual Assault / Explicit Language

Author’s notes: This chapter contains explicit sexual content. Please read the tags carefully before reading this chapter! Thank you.

[CHAPTER 1]  [CHAPTER 2]  

CHAPTER 3: A STREET OF SILK, RATS AND DRAGONS

           Prince Aemond was never fond of festivities. Even before having his eye taken by his nephew and thus before becoming the main subject of gossips in court for a while, he used to find them not only boring but pointless, preferring the comfort of his chambers or even the quietness of the library where he could find peace and tranquillity. The prince was a lonely soul, always had been. And if  he used to think that loneliness miserable and unfair as a child, now he thrived in it. The second son saddened to be rejected and ignored by his father and the young uncle pained to be spurned by his nephews was no more, buried in the embers of his fiery hatred, or so he liked to believe.       But Aemond knew his duty and his responsibilities, all the values bound to royalty. They had been taught to him even before he knew what it meant to be a prince of Westeros or the second in line to the throne -his mother Alicent had made sure of it- and he had embraced them without thinking twice even if they meant making sacrifices. Behave like a prince. Obey your king. Respect and protect your family. Honour your wife. Have faith in the Seven. Keep your Valyrian blood pure. Keep your Valyrian blood pure. Aemond snickered as he stared at the deep red colour of the wine in his cup. That rule was of no importance now, wasn’t it? Since tomorrow he would fly to Storm’s End and choose one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters to be his wife. A demand from his grandfather the Hand that displeased him possibly as much as the feast he was attending.           The Baratheons were no Valyrian. They didn’t look Valyrian, not even a little bit. They were tall, of course, but often massive and disproportioned. Their hair was always thick and black and in harmony (if we could call this harmony) with their dull dark eyes and their grotesque and rough features. They had nothing Aemond deemed beautiful or to his taste. And he was not thrilled to conceive heirs that would look like mules or worse like his aunt Rhaenys. A dragon and a stag do not suit each other. If anything, the dragon eats the stag.   “I don’t know about you, brother. But I fancy lamb tonight.” Aegon whispered to Aemond’s ear as he stood up to reach a jug of wine and fill his empty cup.   Aemond was no fool and he knew his big brother. When he said he wished to eat lamb, he didn’t mean actual lamb. He meant the ravishing young lady dressed in pale green and sitting quietly next to her husband. He meant you.         “Although I don’t mind a lion as well. Oh, and an apple to stay healthy.” And a Lannister and a Fossoway then. “Do you wish to join us? We’re meeting in the street of silk, away from prying eyes. I haven't been there in ages but I believe it is the perfect place to celebrate and get it wet as you might agree.” Aegon laughed as he grasped tightly his young brother’s shoulder. But Aemond remained as stoic as ever. "Besides, I'm king now. I can't be seen in Flea Bottom anymore... Did you know there's a tunnel in the Red Keep that leads straight to Chataya's brothel?"       “No, I didn't and no, I do not wish to join you. I'd rather leave you to your depravity, brother.”         “Oh please, Aemond. Don’t be such a prude twat. I invited the Stokeworth girl just for you.” “For me? What do you mean?”         “Oh please, I've heard about your time alone with her in your chambers.” He winked salaciously. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to put your sword in her tight warm sheathe once more.”     “Not that it is your concern, brother, but I did not sheathe any sword.”       Aegon’s eyes widened and he sat on the table to stare at his brother incredulously. He wanted to know more. “Really. How come? She’s a beautiful creature. I would have not hesitated.”   “The creature is married. I do not think Lord Rosby would agree that a man defile his wife.”           “Oh, but he did.” Aegon laughed in his cup and Aemond frowned at him, unsure to understand. “She’s my coronation gift, a sign of good faith from House Rosby.”   Lord Rosby was not always honourable but he was proud. Surely, he would not have offered his wife willingly or without blackmail. Aegon must have threatened him or promised him something he could not refuse in exchange. Aemond was sure of it.       “So, no need to worry, brother. No one is defiling anything. It is freely given.”         “She.” Aemond corrected between his teeth. “What?”           “What about Helaena?” The second son asked as a masked attempt at making his brother reconsider his lustful plans. “Do you want Helaena to join us?” Aegon was shocked but he didn’t seem to have any objection.           “My king, it is time for your dance.” Otto Hightower said as he grabbed Aegon by the shoulder like a child he was tired of and snatched his cup.         “But I don’t like to dance!”         “Aegon.” Aemond whispered contemptuously        

***

           It was very late. The full and silvery moon was high in the sky and the cackling of poultry wandering the streets had long stopped, replaced by the squeaks of rats and thundering voices of the drunkards celebrating the coronation of the new king in the streets .   You were not accustomed to this kind of foul place. Stokeworth was not a seat that was famous for its debauchery and your father had always made sure that you never go beyond the castle walls. Dirty streets reeking of ale, piss and shit. Alehouse and brothels. All these were new to you. And yet, despite the stench and the obvious danger that animated the Street of Silk, you smiled, finding a certain joy and amusement in seeing free-spirits enjoying life as if there would be no tomorrow.         “We’re here.” The guard who had escorted you from the Red Keep said as he stopped in front of a large wooden gate. You looked at the establishment. It was two stories tall with a stone ground floor and a timber upper floor. There was no window, at least none with a view on the street, certainly to preserve privacy, and over the door swung an ornate lamp of gilded metal and scarlet glass, common to all the whorehouses of Rhaenys’ Hill you had seen on your way here. The guard knocked on the door and the leaded peep window opened to reveal a pair of wary and piercing blue eyes that immediately frowned at your escort and then at you with an intensity that made you look down.   “A golden dragon loves silk.” The guard said and the door opened.     Wrapped in your cloak, your face hidden under the hood, you stepped into the brothel with caution and the door closed immediately behind you. You jumped a bit and turned around only to see that the man who accompanied you was gone.       The knot in your stomach that hadn’t stopped growing since your husband had announced you that King Aegon had requested you here in Chataya’s brothel tightened even more and you put your hands over your belly to soothe the pain. The blue-eyed woman noticed and smiled kindly.     “Perhaps the lady would like something to calm her down.”           There was pity in her voice. It was meant to comfort you, you were sure. But it had the opposite effect. That woman run this establishment. She knew what was expecting you in one of these rooms. So the pity in her voice only confirmed what you already knew; you would not enjoy your night here.     “The golden dragon is upstairs, waiting in the Turret Room. Follow me.”  

She led you to a round turret (hence the name of the room) that rose from the corner of the main hall and you followed her up the stairs. There was an odour of spice in the air and it was growing stronger with every step you took. It wasn’t so unpleasant but it tickled your nose. “It’s to cover the smell of sweat.” The Madam said. It was amazing how easily she could read people’s body but it was certainly part of her job.     Once upstairs, you reached a long corridor that led to a lone gilded door that didn’t look like any others and for a moment you stopped. You could hear the lewd moans and the growls coming from the room behind that door, sounds of pleasure that disgusted you.   You wanted to go back. You wanted to ask your husband to reconsider, to find another arrangement with the King. But you hadn’t succeeded in reasoning with him before so why would you succeed now? Surely, he would send you back here himself and make your night here even worse. “I know I am not supposed to say this to a lady but…” The Madam looked for your eyes under your hood. “It is clear from your reluctance that you won’t enjoy this. So, the best you can do, for your own sake, is to make it quick.” You met the blue-eyed woman’s compassionate look with stoicism, refusing to let her see your apprehension. “Let the King do his thing. From what I remember, he is not one who lingers.” She drew a long white tissue from behind her leather belt and offered it to you. “You’re a strong woman I can tell, but you might need this. If not for your tears then for something else.” You accepted it with a thankful nod and she opened the golden door.

A pale but thick smoke was floating in the room. Jasmin and lilies were burning in a large bowl, their perfume sweet but strong enough to cover the odour of the sweaty naked bodies intertwined on the large canopied bed or on the carpeted floor.   There were seven of them; four women (two of them were whores) and three men. Among them, you recognised Queen Helaena’s ladies in waiting, Lady Jane Lannister and Lady Genevieve Fossoway whom you had met earlier. The former was lying on the mattress, nude like everyone else in this room, showing her red fleshy arse that bore visible handprints to a man who was wanking his manhood behind her while she had King Aegon’s shaft in her mouth. He clearly enjoyed her affection as it seemed he had forgotten the presence of Lady Jane who was kneeling by his side, her small breasts aching to be touched.         “Your grace, your last guest arrived.” The Madam announced before leaving you but Aegon didn’t listen, his mind focused on the pleasure Lady Genevieve was giving him. Only the third man sitting on an armchair drinking wine with two whores on his laps did.   He was blond and he had big blue eyes that resembled Lady Jane’s and for a moment you wonder if the man wasn’t Jason Lannister, her cousin.   “I thought his grace had invited his brother the prince.” The man said as he got up to approach you, curious to see your body hidden under your cloak. You looked back at him, trying to ignore his erected sex pointing towards you. “That is definitely not Prince Aemond.” “A shame. I’ve always wanted to taste a prince’s cock.” One of the whores giggled.     “Come here I’ll let you taste a king’s cock. It’s even better.” Aegon declared, probably tired of Lady Genevieve’s devotion that he rejected when, with a single hand, he pushed her away from him and let her mouth be taken by the lord behind her who decided it was his turn to use it.         The young king staggered to the whore and with a clumsy hand he grabbed the jug of wine she kept in between her thighs to fill the first cup he found. Without saying a word, the girl took Aegon’s cock in her hand and brought it to her mouth to suck it greedily.                             “Aemond has always been an honourable cunt. He is not betrothed yet but he has already sworn faithfulness to his bronze hind.” Aegon said between two mouthfuls of the red alcohol and you frowned at the news of Prince Aemond’s betrothal. “I thought bringing the Stokeworth girl here would amuse him and help him loosen up a little but he seems to like the stick in his arse.”         “Stokeworth, huh? As in the wife of that good old Lord Lorys Rosby? You know your husband praised you a lot, my lady. Let’s see what you’re hiding under all these clothes.” The Lannister man said as he tried to reach out for the lace of your cloak. But you slapped his hand away.   Puzzled, he stared at you, refusing to believe you had dared reject him and hit him but before he could say anything, you spoke. “My husband sent me here to please the king. Therefore, I shall do what my king wishes, not you.” The blond man turned to Aegon but he ignored him, too busy to shove his manhood in the warm humid throat of the whore kneeling at his feet, his hands in the soft black locks of her hair. “This is absurd.”                      

***

           Until yesterday, Aemond never thought he would see those blue eyes again. The eyes of the woman Aegon had paid to take his virginity. And yet here they were again, staring at him with a hint of pride and amazement for the second time in two days.         She had grown older and fatter since the day she had dropped her silk dress in front of him but the kindness and comfort she had given Aemond on that day still shone in her ocean eyes.     “I didn’t expect you, young prince.” She smiled as she eyed at him from head to toes. How he had grown and what a fine handsome man he had become. “When the King said you might be joining him, I had a few doubts.” “I am not here to join my brother. I heard he might have invited a young lady to his … obscene celebration. I am here for her. She shouldn’t be here.”     “The king has invited a few ladies upstairs, your grace. You might want to describe the one you are looking for with more details.” She told him although she had an idea of the young woman he was looking for.         “She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t fit here. She looks small and innocent like a lamb but …”         “In her eyes burns a fire who could seduce a dragon.” She interrupted him and smirked lightly. “You still enjoy the same girls you liked when you were thirteen, I see.”   Embarrassed, Aemond looked down and for a moment he remembered his thirteenth nameday. How Aegon had put a cloak on his shoulder and brought him here. The sweat on his nervous hands when his brother had explained the purpose of this place. “Time to get it wet, little brother.” How he had mumbled a faint “you” when the Madam had asked him which of her “daughters” he wished to lie with. How soft and gentle her touch had been on his nervous hand as she had led him to one of the rooms upstairs and later on when she had stopped him from removing his clothes. “You don’t want to do that, young prince.”         “Where is she?” “With your brother the king, in the Turret Room. I am sure you remember the way.” Aemond let out a “Mmh” and quickly walked up the stairs that led to the room in which he had been escorted to six years ago. He crossed the corridor, ignoring the lustful and seductive gazes of the whores waiting for a client in their dresses of silk and once he reached the gilded door of the Turret Room and heard all the lewd noises coming from inside, he opened it with no hesitation, ready to spoil his brother’s fun.    

Aemond knew what to expect when he turned the knob – and even before, when staring at the flames in his chimney, he took the decision to come here. He had anticipated the orgy, the debauchery, the naked bodies mewling and roaring in pleasure and the alcohol flowing like water because he knew Aegon and his tastes. But what Aemond had not expected was to see you struggling on the mattress to keep your pale green dress on and your legs clenched while trying to push Lord Tyland Lannister away from you.       “Let go of me!” You ordered through your gritted teeth as you kept shaking your head to avoid the man’s kisses. Aemond could have intervened right here. His right hand itched him to seize the dagger strapped to his waist and to end this abuse with a swing of his blade. But he refused to give in to his temper, not out of fear of consequences (even if losing the Lannisters’ support would be a catastrophe for his family right now) but out of wrong fascination.     Standing in the doorway, a firm grasp on the handle of his dagger, he admired your resilience and your courage, how you were stubbornly fighting to preserve your dignity despite the undeniable strength of your enemy. You reminded him so much of him when he was a child, when there was a time his family thought he was weak enough to be beaten to the blood without a fight.   “You want it rough, huh? You want the lion to tame you?” Tyland Lannister growled before he finally managed to catch your lips and shove a hand in between your thighs.         Fuming, Aemond unsheathed his dagger but before he could do anything else, you dug your nails in your assailant’s face ready to tear a piece of his flesh. Your mouth muffled the man’s scream of pain before he eventually tried to back off, his face now bearing the traces of a deep and bloody scratch that would take days if not weeks to properly heal. But you were clearly not done fighting and as he attempted to get up you bit his lower lip as hard as possible to make him bleed.     “You fucking bitch! It hurts!”     “You found yourself a wild one, Tyland!” Aegon laughed at him and the man brought a hand to his face to ease the pain you had inflicted him, cursing you using all the insults he knew. But then he saw the blood on his fingers and his wrath burst, calling him to take his revenge.             He grabbed the glass jug and smashed it on the table and, with what remained of it, he threatened to hit you. You squealed and hid your face behind your arm, eyes closed but ready to get hurt, knowing there was no way for you to avoid this.         “Enough!” Aemond roared as he firmly grabbed the blond man’s arm and instantly tightened his grip to make him understand he would not hesitate to crush his bone like dried leaves.             You opened your eyes, astonished to see the Prince standing before you, protecting you.   “Brother!!! I knew you would come. Perhaps, you could show Lord Tyland how a dragon takes a lamb.” Aegon’s excitement was not to his little brother’s taste who met his grinning face with a fiery glare that could have melt the thickest of ice.   And suddenly the orgy was no more and everyone in the room was quiet, staring at the unpredictable young prince with fear, even Aegon who had never seen his little brother in a rage like that.     Aemond eyed at all of them, his disgust for their depravity and dishonour reflecting in his purple eye and then with a swiftness and strength you didn’t foresee, he grabbed you, lifted you up and threw you above his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. You gasped but you did not protest, still shaken by what had just happened. And somehow you knew you would be safer with the one-eyed prince than with any of these people.

           Aemond carried you out of the brothel without saying a word but right there on his shoulder you could sense how his anger was still boiling inside of him. His body was awfully tensed. His strong arm around your thighs was holding you so tightly it could crush your legs and his gait was fast and determined.                     You knew it would not be a good idea to talk right now even if you desperately wanted to ask him to put you down, so you remained silent and obedient until he decided to release you.           He sat you down on the edge of a well, in the middle of an empty tiny square, away from the hustle and bustle of the Street of Silk and silently plunged a wooden bowl in a bucket filled with water to offer it to you. The gesture was kind and caring but it was still full of anger and violence. You thanked him nevertheless and delicately reached for the cup. Your hands still trembled, an after-effect of your assault in the Turret room that Aemond noticed. So he looked down the well, lost in the memories of the brothel, imagining what could have happened if he hadn’t intervened. And he remained like this for a moment until the words he had kept to himself for so long finally came out. “Did he hurt you?” He asked without even looking at you and your eyes fell on his young face he was desperately trying to conceal under his hood.         You shook your head and whispered. “No. I am in one piece … thanks to you, my prince.” And he finally dared acknowledge your presence by his side.           “It was stupid of you to go there.”           “I didn’t have the choice. It was my husband’s request.”   “Then it is your husband who is stupid.” He spat. “What did he think sending you to this brothel? As if a lamb like you had her place out of the pen and especially in the Street of Silk in the arms of lustful drunkards.” “I think he knew what would happen to me in there but he obeys his king.” You drank a mouthful of water, wondering if you should say more. “And I am not afraid of lustful drunkards.”       Aemond smirked briefly. “Yes, I saw your courage. You were very brave.”     “It wasn’t courage.”       “Then what was it?”       “Self-preservation.” You corrected. “As you said I am a lamb out of the pen.” You joked even if you didn’t like the comparison and the prince chuckled, impressed there was still a laugh left in you after such a traumatic experience. Most ladies would be on the ground crying right now but you remained sturdy like a mountain in the wind. Your unusual strength was remarkable but Aemond couldn't help but wonder what hardship had made such a frail lady like you so incredibly strong.           “Then perhaps you should follow me back to the Red Keep and leave this foul place.”         “Follow a dragon? With all due respect, my prince, I am not sure it is a good idea. After all it’s a dragon who brought me here.”         “You’d rather stay among the rats? Be my guest.” He sounded serious, so serious you weren’t certain his words were intended to be sarcastic. After all, he didn’t seem to be the kind of man who had a sense of humour. His features  were always either cold or showing haughtiness.   “Rats, dragons … Honestly I don’t know what’s more dangerous.” You finally said.   “Dragons obviously.”     “I beg to disagree.” Aemond immediately frowned at you. He didn’t like your disagreement and it was certainly because he wasn’t used to being contradicted. He was a prince after all, and a formidable one. But you remained unyielding and continued. “When a dragon enters a room you see it, we both know it. Your aunt Rhaenys proved it this afternoon. But rats get in without being noticed. You realise they were here only when they’re gone. They could steal from you, bite you in your sleep and you wouldn’t find them… Rats are sneakier than dragons.” You quoted the prince with a cheeky smile and Aemond’s frown immediately faded to give way to a timid yet joyful smirk. You could tell he was happy that you finally remembered him and your encounter when you were kids but for some reasons, he chose to act as if what you said did not matter.             “Hurry. It is late and we should not wander here. You could use some sleep after what happened and so do I for tomorrow morning I shall fly to Storm’s End.”

You nodded, hopped off the edge of the well and quickly arranged your dress. You were ready to follow Aemond but then you noticed that the Targaryen prince hadn't moved an inch. In fact, he was standing still before you and you could feel his eye on your body clearly lingering on the parts your hands had just touched.           It should have made you feel uncomfortable. You even thought you were for second but you quickly realised that your heart pounding in your chest and your sudden refusal to look up at him were not signs of discomfort but signs of shyness.         “Your heart is racing.” Aemond declared and a blush rose to your cheeks. Did he just look at your chest? You instantly wrapped yourself in your cloak to hide it, finding the situation indecent. If your husband knew ... “I suppose my … look … make you uncomfortable. I understand why. It is not the most ravishing.”           Your eyes widened, horrified, and you urgently looked up at him. You didn’t want him to believe something wrong. “No, my prince. It doesn’t.” You mumbled.           “Then why do you look down like that?” His dark lilac iris was shining like the most beautiful jewel in the moonlight but it was as piercing as a blade, as if Prince Aemond was trying to cut your mind open to see what you were hiding from him right now. You knew Targaryens were special, even magical, and you hoped dearly they didn’t have that kind of power. The last thing you wanted was for the Prince to see the real reason why you had looked away and cover yourself, that for a short moment he had made you feel desirable in a way any other man not even your husband ever could.     “I find you intimidating.” You finally said. It wasn’t a lie but it still could be considered as one.     “Do you? You didn’t seem intimidated in my chambers this afternoon.”     You were silent again. Only this time there was no looking away. There was just you and Prince Aemond and an exchanged gaze that could melt the entire North. And it felt weird. Weird but excruciatingly amazing. Empowering yet debilitating. You could feel the fire in his eye consuming you, devouring you from within. But it was not painful. It was enchanting, thrilling even, like an unexplainable force pushing you to embrace the flames and let them warm your skin. Was it what people called ‘passion’? “Do I make you feel uncomfortable again?”         You shook your head and attempted to say “no” but the word got stuck in your throat and became a moan that awoke the dragon Prince Aemond kept dormant behind his cold mask.

His fingers grabbed your chin and he pushed you against the well, making you gasp and hold on to him. His strong body pressed against yours and he felt the fire within him grow and tickle just like his manhood in his pants now so close to your sex. Aemond thought about how easy it would be, to just untie his trousers, pull up your dress and shove his hardening cock inside of you to feel the warm tightness of your cunt. But when he saw his hands on your waist and with them the images of Tyland Lannister forcing himself on you, he reconsidered and eased his grasp. A lady like you should not be treated like a mere whore. So his hand slid up to your face which was so soft and delicate against his rough fingertips, like the young petals of a rosebud, and with his thumb he brushed the corner of your lips, almost like he did this afternoon. However this time, his mouth - just like his vigorous body - was so much closer. It was so close actually he could almost feel the texture and the warmth of the pink flesh that he desperately wanted to claim with his own lips.   Aemond closed his eyes and let his spirit wander towards a world in which he would not hesitate to do all the inappropriate and lustful things he wanted to do right. He imagined your lips, so wet and so hot against his, your fleshy tongue caressing his, your small hands in his long hair and your legs tightly wrapped around his waist as he devoured your mouth like an apple given to a starving man.         But then you talked and broke the enchantment. The voice of reason he needed to hear.     “I heard they are quite beautiful.”           He opened his eyes and looked at you, puzzled. “What are you saying?”           “The Four Storms, Lord Borros’ daughters. I know why you’re going to Storm’s End.” You whispered and the prince let go of you. The reality was brutal. “Your family is sending you to a make a marriage pact with Lord Borros in order to gain the support of House Baratheon and annul the oath Boremund Baratheon made to Princess Rhaenyra, am I right?”   Aemond sighed, disappointed to have this conversation right now, but then replied. “They’re sending me because I own the largest and most impressive dragon in all Westeros. Surely, you’ll agree a dragon is more persuasive than a raven.”       “So is a Targaryen prince who is still to be betrothed.” You retorted. “You’re too clever for your own good, my lady.” He smiled a bit. He genuinely liked that about you.         “No, your brother the King happens to talk too much when he is drunk, that is all.” Aegon, of course. “What else did that fool say?”         “The King actually praised your faithfulness to your future fiancé.” You found a bizarre reluctance to say the word but you immediately chose to ignore the feeling.     “To Aegon, faithfulness is anything but a quality.” “Yes, I have noticed. I am so sorry for your sister, Helaena. She seems very kind.”     “My sister does not deserve a husband like Aegon. But it was my family’s wish to marry her to him.” “As it is their wish to marry you to a Baratheon.” Aemond didn’t like you for bringing back the subject for two reasons. One, he hated to be reminded he had to wed a plain-featured Baratheon girl. Two, this conversation on marriage pacts had dragged him away from a solace he wished would have never stopped. But you seemed as bitter as he was right now, so he would not blame you. “It is my duty as prince.” And duty means sacrifice, he thought in a voice that sounded terribly like his mother’s. “You don’t seem to enjoy it.”       “Do you know any duty that is enjoyable, my lady?”         You didn’t need to think about the answer. “No, I do not… Although, my husband said many times that there is not a more enjoyable duty than the duty to conceive an heir. Perhaps you will like that.”         Aemond was surprised by your familiarity and your sudden intrusion. Only Aegon, his brother, dared to talk to him about the pleasure of the flesh, most of the time providing graphic details Aemond didn’t wish to hear about. “Sorry, my prince. It was highly inappropriate.” You apologized when you noticed his astonishment.       “Do you? … Enjoy the duty to conceive an heir?” After your lack of decency, you found the question more than fair so you politely answered with all the honestly and prudishness you could muster. “I believe it is only enjoyable when you are a man. But you may know that already.” “Why would you say that?”         “Isn’t the pleasure of the flesh the reason why you came to that brothel?”     No.

[CHAPTER 4]    

[fayeimara]

Sakusa Kiyoomi || Small Moments

SUMMARY. You're looking forward to the first date you and Sakusa have had in a little while thanks to both of your busy schedules when Kiyo seems reluctant to go.

PAIRING. Sakusa Kiyoomi x you

GENRE. Pure Fluff

WARNINGS. Potentially suggestive

Sunlight filters through the sheer curtains of your bedroom's bay windows, casting a glow over your eyelids just before you completely rouse from your sleep. Eyes still closed, as your awareness slowly slips in, your hand curls back in towards you, seeking the warmth emanating from the arm wrapped tight around your waist.

The unmistakable heat of your boyfriend becomes more prevalent, urging you to wiggle backwards ever so slightly and close the remaining gap between your bodies. Sliding your hand from its landed spot on Kiyoomi's toned forearm down to his hand to twine your finger with his, your eyes finally open to the rays and land on the rainbow pattern splayed on the white silk of your pillow.

Today you and Sakusa will be spending a long awaited day together, out on a classic date that you have both been denied in recent weeks thanks, in part, to each of your demanding schedules. Just as a lazy but delighted smile stretches your lips, you feel him stir behind you only to giggle as he leans his head to nuzzle into your neck with a light groan.

His hand shifts against you when you turn to face him, sliding just to help his arm keep its position around you as you move, and then you're looking into shadowed eyes that study you in return. He doesn't say anything for a minute, long enough to make you feel uncharacteristically shy and duck your head down into his chest, burrowing into what has long become your favourite place to hide in these small moments.

But it seems that's the spark which finally compels Kiyo to move his arm from his coveted spot around you, but only for a moment, as his fingers find your cheek and feather down to follow the curve of your jaw before tilting your head back up to face him. You don't provide any resistance, already reaching up with your face and hands, the latter seeking purchase in his soft locks as he places the lightest kiss against your wanting lips.

Both of you pulling away, Kiyoomi with a small smile and you with a flirty smirk, you bid each other good morning. Another one of those small moments you cherish, to be able to enjoy the constant familiarity of your boyfriend waking up next to you but this time during a rare, slow morning where you both can indulge in its indolence.

The moment passes seemingly as quickly as it swept in as restlessness soaks into your skin, compelling movement as you once again begin to contemplate your planned activities for your date with Kiyo today. You're looking forward to spending the day with him in the sun, having planned a spot for a picnic lunch before taking a stroll through the sprawling park. You also have reservations for the night at a special, upscale restaurant that will meet both his standards and yours, with a stunning view of the city laid out beneath you.

You pull away from Sakusa with another chaste kiss, even as he gently tries to persuade you to stay a little longer, and pad into the washroom to brush your teeth and wash up for the day. Eyeing Sakusa's features in the mirror as he follows you in, you don't address his hesitant but prickly demeanor, smiling at him brightly instead as you finish up before heading out through the room and halls and into your kitchen.

A pot of French press is prepared without thought, the motions an ingrained habit by now, as you pull out ingredients from the fridge to prepare the smoked salmon eggs benedict for your brunch. Setting up the mise en place, Kiyo is soon beside you to help with the hollandaise and eggs, nudging you out of the way with his hip until you give in and retreat from the stove.

Perching on the bar stools lined up with the kitchen island, you pour out the coffee into two mugs, doctoring each to your respective tastes before pushing his across the counter towards him with the tips of your fingers at its base.

You've barely exchanged more than whispered words of good morning but you're so attuned to him, you know there's something waiting at the tip of his tongue, a reluctance that's tangible to you due to years of picking up on his tells.

Sakusa stares into the pale yellow swirl of the sauce he's stirring as he debates how to bring up the thought on his mind. You've been looking forward to this day for weeks, he has as well, it's just that now it's finally arrived... he'd like nothing better than to follow the pace that seemed fated from the very start of your day together.

His schedule has been grueling and he wants nothing more to curl up with you at home and enjoy a lazy day indoors, not head out into the crush of the weekend crowd in uncontrolled environments where he'll likely be on constant guard. Here, everything is safe and comfortable, clean and devoid of all distractions but the woman he loves.

Low on energy and conflicted at the thought of being selfish by voicing his own desires, he decides to keep quiet and follow the activities you have planned for the two of you today. If nothing else, the breathtaking smile of joy that lights your face will be worth the compromise.

Turning away to the island to place the poached eggs on the English muffins, he can't help but glance your way to study your expression. He doesn't expect to meet your eyes, finding you watching him with a small, wry smile as you stand and lean forward to add the smoked salmon atop the eggs, so he freezes momentarily before turning back to exchange the items in his hand for the pot of hollandaise.

"Omi." Your voice breaks the easy, thoughtful silence permeating the kitchen as he spoons the sauce over the salmon and sprinkles a dusting of chives to finish the brunch you'd started. You only call him by that nickname when you're neutral, likely coaxing for information that you're sure he's withholding.

After another beat, his deep voice finally filters at its usual calm, steady volume, "Yes, sweetheart?"

He still doesn't meet your eyes and you resort to your most cajoling tone, softly and sweetly asking, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Brunch is ready?" His eyes lift to yours then, with a teasing glint and a slight smirk to match curving his lips.

"Hm."

He takes your plate and his to the breakfast table in its spacious nook, surrounded by windows on three sides that allow the warm sunlight to caress your skin as you follow to your seat with the coffees and cutlery.

The first bite melts in your mouth with perfect heat, the mix of flavours prompting you to close your eyes and hum in appreciation. When you open them again, you catch Kiyo with his fork paused on its ascent to his mouth, staring at you with widened eyes before blinking as if to unfreeze.

You let out an amused laugh when his own hum follows shortly after. It's a nice moment but-

"Kiyo-"

"I don't know where you picked this up as a favourite, but I'm so glad you did." Cutting in, he compliments your choice of meal between bites.

You can't help it when another smirk slides over your lips, "Well, I am a loyalist. I hold on tight when I find something I love.

You and Kiyo connect eyes yet again and share a sweet smile at your words in yet another small moment that exists just for the two of you.

The third time's the charm, clearly, because his deflections work and you drop the subject for the rest of your brunch. Considering the scarcity of the time you were able to steal away together these past weeks, your morning meal is soon filled with funny anecdotes that slipped between the cracks and thoughtful insights regarding the events of your friends and family that you both continue to be looped in on.

It's not until early afternoon, as you've slipped into a breezy summer outfit - complete with a flowing thigh-length dress, floppy hat, and strappy sandals, you find Sakusa slowly packing your purse with his small trove of sanitary supplies.

You lean against the door frame to study him as he moves so fluidly, elegant even in the sweats and shirt he still hasn't changed out of since his morning shower. Your plans for your date flicker through your thoughts for a moment, pulling at you with an intense mix of longing and excitement.

It's not as powerful as your new desire though, as you want more than anything to continue seeing Kiyoomi's smiles today. That's what you had in mind when you planned your date, to have him find joy and contentment with you in the quiet, private corners of your world.

Sakusa looks up behind him when he hears the bathroom door shut. He didn't realize you'd stepped out and wonders if you'd forgotten something. Finished with packing your purse with both his and your supplies, he moves to the closet to prepare his clothes for the outing when the door opens again and you exit with a smile on your face. But instead of the expected outfit for your date, you're wearing your most comfortable lounge clothes.

"What's wrong, love?" He moves towards you without hesitation, concern deepening his tone.

You raise an eyebrow and ask him with a soft smile still curving your lips, "You tell me, Kiyo."

Stopping with his hand cupping your cheek as he looks down to meet your warm, inviting gaze, he breathes out a low, "How did you know?"

"Oh, baby... I've told you never to hold back your true feelings." You softly admonish.

What if you hadn't picked up on enough of the right cues? What if you enjoyed a date that only made Kiyo miserable because he sacrificed his urge to honour the plans you'd made together for the day even though what he wanted had changed?

Sakusa feels a mix of guilt and relief like a hit to the gut as he realizes he only just confirmed your suspicions. What could he have done differently so you wouldn't have realized his change of heart? So you wouldn't have to be the one making the sacrifice instead?

"Kiyo.." Your voice calls him out of his thoughts and he catches the loving smile that hasn't left your face once since you exited from the bathroom.

"Baby.. You know what I'm thinking?" Your eyes sparkle with a new excitement, no- with a mischievous, playful intent.

"What?"

"I'm thinking we have a certain season to binge watch and some new video games to try. I'm thinking of how good the takeout was from the sushi restaurant that delivered to us last month. And I'm thinking today would be a perfect day to cuddle on the couch like we have nowhere to be and time is infinite in our little bubble."

Sakusa still hesitates, even though there's no doubting your genuine tone he still can't help but ask, "Are you sure, love?" "I'm absolutely certain."

Using the hand still resting gently on your cheek, he tilts your head as he leans down to drop a soft kiss to your lips. The two of you don't pull away until you're both breathless and unable to stop your mutual smiles from spilling onto your lips. This was it. This smile of his that you so badly wanted to draw out.

That's how you both end up spending the rest of the afternoon painting exactly the picture you envisioned. You bring another round of coffees to the couch as he selects the show you mentioned and, pulling one of the plush throws over your legs, you snuggle into his side to watch.

Over the course of the next couple hours, you two easily push and pull like magnets every time you readjust your positions, from the upright one where you're tucked into him to you both stretching out for you to lie down on him, his chest pillowing your head as his arm returns to its favourite place. When hunger begins to intrude in the late afternoon, you put together plates of both his and your favourite snacks, sitting back up to consume them as the sun begins to peek in through the windows on the opposite side of your house.

When you take a break from the TV, sitting at the table with your respective beverages of choice, you play one of your favourite board games with music from your shared playlist filtering in the background. The lights in the house are slowly turned on as you both move about, from the kitchen, to the living room, to the dining table in between, over the course of your unhurried hours.

By evening, you've started a puzzle together but leave it on the table unfinished when Sakusa still hasn't returned from the kitchen, going in search of him instead. When you find him washing the dishes that have begin to neatly stack on one side of the divided sink, you have him drop everything and clean his hands before tugging him away.

"No chores, Kiyo!"

"They're dirty."

"It's a lazy day." You give him a pout that he can't refuse and he's the one to give in here.

Instead, he whips the towel on the counter and, as the song just changes into a slow one you would have usually skipped, he grabs your hand to pull you into him. You don't resist at all, reaching around him to return the hug you think he's giving, but his other hand comes to rest on your waist and it's soon joined by the first. You're the one to find yourself frozen this time, hands having risen to rest on his chest by pure coincidence even before you fully realized Sakusa Kiyoomi is slow dancing with you in the kitchen.

"Wha-" You stop the question ready to drop from your lips when you meet his eyes. The answer is as obvious as the mirth mixed with something softer in his replying gaze.

He would only ever do this for you. Step out of his comfort zones in ways that would have been completely inconceivable before he met you. Before he spent the years he has with you. Before you made him realize making these small choices for the ones you love, to be able to share these small moments that he could never have previously dreamed, aren't actually a sacrifice after all.

It's likely not a long time the two of you spend dancing between the kitchen, dining room, and living room, but at least three songs have passed before he gently tilts you back onto the couch just as the doorbell rings to indicate the arrival of your dinner.

Leaving you to clear the space on the coffee table, Kiyo arranges the food into various plates that are then loaded onto a tray to be brought into the living room. So begins round two of your TV binge, picking up mid-season to finish the latter half of the show while you enjoy feeding each other. Another feat that would be impossible for him with anyone else but a true joy to be able to share with you.

You clean up after the two of you finish, leaving him to pick the next game. When you return to the couch and see he's picked your favourite, you can't help but challenge him with a smirk.

"Oh, baby, you know I'm going to ruin you. Are you sure you want to play this?"

His dark eyes meet yours and even though his expression is almost unreadable, his eyes express the same teasing light that soaks his tone, "Sweetheart... you've already ruined me."

You don't know whether to laugh or not because as much as he intends to tease there's definitely truth there, but also a benediction that conveys what he truly means.

So you respond instead by adding your truth to his, "We've ruined each other, haven't we?"

"Only in the best ways, love."

Holding his warm gaze for another small moment, you bite your lip to hold back the wide delighted smile that threatens to spill out before he reaches for your wrist to finally tug you down to him. You end up sprawled on his lap but fix your position when he hands you the second controller.

Soon after the game starts, neither of you can say who poked whom first or nudged the other's elbow, or even who was the first to boldly tickle the other in order to gain advantage in the game. You're laughing as he pulls you onto his lap, arms coming around you to restrain your own movements as you call out to the unfairness of his tactic.

Throwing your weight back on him to push him deeper into the soft cushions of the couch, you strain to reach his neck with sloppy kisses and little love bites, your only counter to his cheating measures. Neither you nor Sakusa end up winning the game when your endeavour succeeds in pulling his attention from the screen to your sparkling eyes and that perfect smile he so desired to see.

This time, when you kiss, it's before either of you have even thought of or committed to the action, so naturally do your lips simply meet between you.

The remainder of the night is marked by these simple, lazy exchanges of your love. The TV eventually falling to rest and allowing the music still crooning in the background to create its hazy ambience yet again.

The last thing you remember as you lie entwined with Kiyo on your living room couch, exploring each other with kisses and caresses, intimate gazes and whispered words, is the final small moment of the day. A small kiss just behind your ear preceding the three little words that he faithfully declares every day since the first time they fell from his lips.

"I love you."

A/N: Sorry for kind of tricking you @yourstarvic! I know you requested either date or lazy day and I thought.. what if I wrote you and Sakusa on a date and then enjoying a lazy Sunday following? Then, I thought... what if you didn't get the date you expected but the lazy day was all the more special for it? Slightly inspired by mine and my bf's lazy days that we've never let each other regret therefore not completely original but they say write what you know lol so I hope you like it! And because you have a special place in my heart as my very first scenario request ever, I have a little surprise for you here :) <3

© 2021 fayeimara. All rights reserved. Please do not repost, modify, or claim as yours.

[archesa]

Is the Knight of the Thorn quest still off limits? If not then Knight of the Thorn quest on either Anwen, Elianora or Galaëd (or maybe comparison/differences between)

Ooooh! No, the "Knight of the Thorn" quest is not off-limits! 🌱 Thanks a lot for your patience, I remember you had asked about the Knight of the Thorn quest the first time i reblogged this ask game (once upon a december ^^) but at the time I still hadn’t done the quest and I wasn’t sure what to make of it...

I’m unfortunately (?) not quite in the mood for a deep exploration of Elianora’s deep depression...

But I will gladly talk about the other two! 😄🍂🦋

(this will also overlap with @i-mybrunettelady ‘s ask! enjoy 😘)

I'm still figuring out some of the details for Galaëd, since the restoration of Caladbolg will be very intimately linked to his secret wyld-hunt – bring back the Green Knight from the confines of the Dream.

His journey started by a visit in the Grove, the sight of the statue of his late mentor and friend filling him with rage, grief and guilt, but also fueling a fire within that he had almost forgotten about, a whisper swelling to a resounding call, beckoning him to embrace and reminisce of a now distant memory and fulfill the destiny bestowed upon him by the Dream.

Caladbolg laid broken and withered in the depths of Dreamer’s Terrace. Not dead. Merely dormant. Longing for its missing pieces, its memory to be restored and its wounds to be healed.

Riannoc had carried it first, and his virtues and his flaws still echoed in the whimpers of the wind as the shattered blade brushed through the air. Honour. Courage. Recklessness. And as Galaëd traced along a path that was always meant to be his own, his steps shadowing those of the sword’s previous bearers, the blade’s song changed — the wind on its sharpness, the light at its core, the buds blooming on his guard drawing with every memory revisited the strengths and the merits of the three noble knights who ever carried it.

Riannoc’s bravery and ultimate sacrifice. Trahearne’s erudition and everlasting dedication. Galaëd’s curiosity and unwavering loyalty.

Canach had once described the mesmer’s connection to the Dream as a high-pitched constant whistle, an edge he pictured clearly, unyielding and sharp as a blade,  as opposed to the constant turmoil of interlaced voices and visions gravitating around most dreamers like a haze. A thread connecting him to the ones before, and pulling him towards an inevitable future.

Night was falling on the Grove when he laid down his head under the protective embrace of the Pale Tree. This part of his journey had come to its end. Stars lit up the skies and flickered beyond a veil of mists and memories. He was dreaming. Dreaming of the ones who came before. A familiar presence, waiting far beyond the horizon, wounded and ensnared in an entanglement of thorns. Dormant. Only sleeping.

And with the guidance of a White Stag, the protection of the Dreamer, the welcoming embrace of a friend, the Green Knight would awaken.

It was different for Anwen, because Trahearne was there, still alive, recovering as she was, when she endeavoured herself to the restoration of the Thorn.🌹

She had taken Caladbolg with her, from the depths of the jungle to the heights of Divinity’s Reach, from the warmth and golden days of Tarir to the mists and starlit nights of Caer Aval, without a second thought as to why the Sword did not reject her the way it had rejected Canach — and it took broaching the subject to Trahearne for her to realise that Caladbolg had chosen her as its new bearer. And if the Thorn was willingly offered, it still demanded Anwen reconciled with the memories of its last two bearers to attune to its full potential.

Visiting Riannoc’s tomb was a very emotionally charged endeavour — Trahearne’s grief and regret echoed through the blade as much as it radiated through him, sorrow and guilt weighting on her shoulders as if they were her own, all the more crueler as she could barely find in herself the strength to comfort her beloved.

But the duel itself sparked anew her courage, reminded her of the power of unity, of the danger of isolation, fueled her pride at the thought that they had remained strong and loyal and steadfast in the face of certain death. She prevailed because even in the sword’s memory, Riannoc was alone, and even as she stood her ground in single combat against the fallen knight of the thorn, she was not.

The Vision Crystal next led them on the edge of Verdant Brink, where the Pact had fallen, the Thorn broken, and the wreckage of the fleet still painted in sharp shattered lines of scorched vines and torn metal a vivid recollection of their mistakes and nightmares.

The Glory of Tyria laid stranded, suspended in her last moments, a frozen speck of time holding within its core a shard of Trahearne’s soul — a part of him that had never left Maguuma.

Anwen took in a deep, confident breath before she plunged in the vision. She was not alone. Trahearne was with her.

Her heart sank in her chest, her lungs filling with frozen dread, and within moments before the second vision seized her, she knew what deep hidden, dark and secluded part of her the Sword had conjured.

She instinctively rolled away, a stone greatsword shattering the ground where she stood and vines like whips breaking through the metal carcass as if it were dirt to slash and ensnare her, but it were his eyes — fiery and burning with hatred — that immobilised her.

Pumice-like bark covered his bulk, a wreath of sharp thorns breaking through his skin like a crown, and at his side, half buried in the entanglement of roots and creeper plants conjured in his wake, laid the twisted forms of familiar figures, friends broken, corrupted by blight.

She blocked another swing of the sword, sent to her knees by the force of the blow and barely dodged the shadows frothing neath her feet, a column of darkness rising from the ground a split second before a scythe slashed it through.

Wreathed in obscurity, Trahearne charged at her and struck with yet another powerful blow that seemed to drain even the memory of warmth around them. Ice sizzling as it covered her armour and withered the still fragile buds of the sword, she slashed desperately at the vision, a litany of pleas and reassurances dying on her lips as she struggled to breathe.

‘You’re not real. You’re not him. You’re not Trahearne. Trahearne is safe.’

The tip of the sword encountered resistance and a light pierced through the shroud where the blade had dug.

'You’re not real. You’re not him! You’re a figment! The memory of a nightmare!’

Cold and darkness surrounded her, but a light shined through with every cut and slash of Caladbolg, the withered buds blooming and a scent of salt water and iodine replacing that of decay and rot as the wind swelled and the vines recessed.

The hardened bark shattered, and the blade dug in his chest without resistance. Bright blue flames flared from the wound as the fiery glow in his eyes dimmed to their familiar honey and closed forever as ley energy drowned the world and consumed him from within.

Anwen blinked away the vision, her breath stuck in her throat when she found herself not atop of the wreckage, but on the deck of the Glory of Tyria, a vast expanse of water beneath and the sun rising over Orr on the horizon. Trahearne was with her. Another memory, a vision of a past she would rewrite if she could, and yet would not change for the world; the morning after the Cleansing of Orr, the moment she should have realised, in retrospect, that Trahearne loved her.

He smiled at her, his glow a deep purple striking against the warm silver and pale gold of the skies around him.

“One day soon, this plague will be but a memory. Every dawn rising bring us closer to seeing these wounds heal... But in the mean time, dear friend, this day is ours.”

She closed the gap between them, finding herself engulfed in a towering embrace, rather than nuzzled in the crook of his shoulder as the vision faded and she returned to reality.

“I know you're probably tired of hearing this — especially from me — but thank you, dear friend. We've come a long way and have a long way to go, but for now, I am glad you’re here with me.”

“Here at the end of all things?”

“Hopefully, their beginning.”

[amachaheadcanons]

Do you think the cast of Danganronpa v3 is chilling and vibin' in heaven? What happens to Rantaro and Tenko in the afterlife. Do they form a ghost relationship?

˚ᆺ˚

I've...actually never considered-- Um-- OMG YES!!!! AMACHA GHOST/AFTERLIFE AU FTW!!!!!

Or- OR. Instead of waking up the cast asap and shocking their system immediately, Team DR instigated level "limbo" as a way to ease the participants back into their real bodies. Slowly.

OKOKOK

Tenko would definitely be salty at first and seek out vengeance, however, I feel like Kiyo would be in hell due to his crimes but instead let's just say the kids are in limbo whilst the killing game is going on. . . yeah. Like a period of time to ease the deceased back into reality without simply awakening them and rendering them mentally and physically paralysed from the cruel reality they imposed on themselves!

She shakes and throws Kiyo to teach him a lesson whenever she gets close enough. Kaede and Kirumi stop her as much as they can but eventually stop trying due to her incredible persistence and the fact that it doesn't hurt him it's just time-consuming.

She pays no mind to Rantaro and Ryoma, considering they were victims. Excluding the odd degenerate comment here and there. Still harbouring some lingering hostility towards Angie.

She spies on Himiko and is happy to see her loosen up and begin her character arc. But is painfully aware of the fact they might never see each other ever again. She's rooting for her from the bottom of her heart so it's a bittersweet realisation.

Kaede still tries to help Tenko get over her bias, following around Shuichi and dragging Tenko along so she can witness his goodness. Eventually, Kaede gets tired of Tenko tarnishing his name so she turns to Rantaro as a live example. Often catching him being charismatic or really focused on something with that cute expression.

Considering they're probably going to spend eternity together, Rantaro's keen to form a bond. She throws him for being so casual about it. He doesn't mind cuz it's kinda fun. He just floats in a circle and back in front of her. Gravity in limbo is similar to on the moon only they can float. And the windy feeling when her hands brush against his limbs is really cool.

He apologises for not taking her more seriously and reintroduces himself adding, "C'mon, shake my hand, my soul's as transparent as ever," and "I'm not going anywhere Chabashira-san, no point holding a grudge into the afterlife,"

She's very stubborn at first, but considering how peaceful the living cast are, Tenko slowly realises this may potentially be the only people she'll be able to make amends with before passing into...hopefully, heaven.

Angie gets tired of the hostility and says the only way to enter heaven is to make amends. Kaede lies with good intentions, hoping her agreeance will push Tenko in the right direction.

It's a slow process until Miu is found dead. Tenko attempts to cling to the inventor, lacking protective malice as she learns there was no way to harm the searching soul. Miu acts normally and demands some alone time, complaining about Tenko's clingy nature and slips a, "Don't you get it Chabashitstain?! This is why Yusmello ran off with Yonorganism!"

Tenko starts distancing herself after that. Miu is mildly excluded until she makes it up to Tenko. Tenko verbally insists she forgives Miu. Deep down she can't hate a girl, though Angie & Miu were tempting that moral of hers.

Kaede attempts to console Tenko, followed by Kirumi, Angie, Miu, Hoshi then Gonta. But to no anvil. Gonta's pretty good at consoling too but it didn't sway her. She's startled by Gonta so much so, she throws him, along with assumptions of his murderous intent. The girl's groan in unison at her lack of hearing and self-centred nature before filling her in on how Kokichi manipulated the situation.

Tenko began to feel more and more alone despite the growing number of interactivity.

Rantaro grows concerned and bold, attempting a method unused thus far. "Chabashira-san, when you fell off a tree for the first time, did it scare you into trying again?"

"When your Sensei defeated you in a match time and time again, did you falter in challenging him again?" "How does Amami know th--" "Tenko, when you failed to throw your opponent over your shoulder, would you stop there and let the aggressor roam free?" "Of course not! Don't insult Ten--" "Then what's making you give up now??"

Cue Rantaro and his amazing words of conflicting. Being able to gently corner people with what they needed to face. "Don't run away from your emotions. Take your own advice and be honest with yourself. What else is there left for us?"

He reached her when everybody else lacked the knowledge and experience to touch her weeping heart. She starts reinviting herself into open discussions. Progress.

Tenko observes and attempts to understand the boys for the first time ever. She finds herself following Rantaro around the massive campus. Considering he's still trying to piece together the mastermind of such a grand scheme. They bond over their search. She gets to know him. And the other boys due to Rantaro being so friendly and charismatic.

By the time Kokichi joins them she's instinctively distant but Rantaro again has a soft spot for the misunderstood ones. Rantaro's kindness is so large it makes Tenko weak and frustrated. Suddenly, she worries he'll fall into Kokichi's trap. She starts worrying and watching his back silently.

Angie "gets a hint from the Gods" and starts shipping them. After a few funny comments from Angie, Kaede and Kirumi are on board. It's entertaining watching the almighty Aikido master blush, stutter, trip over nothing and float aimlessly despite her persistent walking and attempt to perfect her form.

Kaito quickly jumps on the bandwagon and suddenly their relationship is the most interesting thing that can link the kids to some form of normalcy. It was a good distraction from the pressing matters of the killing game.

Rantaro is none the wiser. However, when Kaede pushes Tenko to befriend Kaito and he notices her genuinely trying to find interest in conversing with the space-enthused boy...he's conflicted. He's proud of watching her progress unfold and honoured he took part in it, yet, feels a pang of tightness when seeing everyone boast about their blossoming friendship.

Considering Rantaro doesn't hear the teasing and gossip about Tenko's potential struggle. And upon noticing Tenko avoiding him oftentimes, he grows jealous. However, this makes the time she spends with him alone willingly, appear all the more special. He appreciates their friendship and confesses one night during training... "You've come a long way in the past month Tenko, I'm very impressed. Be proud of yourself. I know I am."

Somehow, his words make her chest tight. "I'm honoured to call you a friend."

Kokichi "boo"s him, the little eavesdropper. Angie slaps his mouth shut, Kaede scolds him, while Miu continues to embarrass the couple attempting to join their living comrades in their nightly training.

This however starts the tradition of the dead training alongside the living. Being with them in spirit and whatnot.

Tenko's bias dies down a lot in the span of 4 chapters. And when the truth is revealed to the deceased cast in the grand finale. The deceased cast is forced to awaken after Kiibo's blinding sacrifice. Tenko awakens with hasty breaths, demanding to see her friends. All of them. Boys included. Not allowing anything to take them away from her.

If Kirumi's the mum of the group, Tenko's definitely the overprotective big sister once she reaches her character arc.

I like this idea, it brings a little more hope to the despair. Plus I like the idea of them all being friends in the afterlife cuz there's no more threats or stress.

[kurowrites]

Kiss prompt: 8 & 11 : ) If you like?

kassandraescobat said: #1 for the kiss prompt wangxian.

8. being unable to open their eyes for a few moments afterward

11. when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more

1. breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths

---

Lan Wangji was awake and had started to get ready for the day, sitting in front of a small bronze mirror to comb his hair, tie it up, and fix his hairpiece on top. It was quiet in the Jingshi, exactly as quiet as its name suggested. He had opened one of the blinds to the garden, letting in the lovely morning breeze and permitting him a beautiful view of the garden hung with morning mist, but he had been careful that no light reached the hidden corner where his bed was placed.

His husband was still asleep, as he so often was ere Lan Wangji woke him.

Lan Wangji sighed and tried not to think of the challenges of the day just yet. They had become more recently, meetings and petitions and negotiations that never seemed to end. He had accepted the position as Chief Cultivator, even though he could have lived his life without receiving that honour, and would have preferred to concentrate on matters he found more pressing.

Like his husband.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian had been married half a year ago not out of their own volition, but because politics had demanded it. It had been a sensible strategy, too; both the Gusu Lan and the Yunmeng Jiang sects had been doing very well ever since their marriage. Wei Wuxian’s deep friendship with the Young Lady at Koi Tower and Sect Leader Wen Qing at the Nightless City had helped balance out the relationships between the individual clans, and ever since, the people had enjoyed a time of unprecedented peace and prosperity.

The same could not be said for their personal relationship. Lan Wangji was married to a man whom he mostly remembered as a mischievous teen of fifteen, a boy he’d always had difficulty getting along with. And the Wei Wuxian that he knew now, the Wei Wuxian he was married to, was neither mischievous nor was he a teenager, but an exceptionally smart adult that carefully held himself at a distance from Lan Wangji.

And, if Lan Wangji was honest, that hurt him.

Marrying Wei Wuxian had been a sacrifice for the sake of his sect, his family, and the cultivation world as a whole. He could not pretend that had not been the case.

And yet, deep in his heart he had irrationally hoped that there might be something that could be salvaged of their former relationship. Wei Wuxian had once called Lan Wangji his friend. Perhaps they could return to that.

That hope had been destroyed quickly.

Wei Wuxian shared his marital bed, and yet he felt more distant than ever. Lan Wangji awoke to Wei Wuxian’s soft sleeping face every morning, and yet it was not his.

Finishing his morning toilet and fixing the remaining pieces of his clothing with another quiet sigh, he steeled himself and walked over to the dimmest corner of the Jingshi, to their bed.

Quietly, he said, “Wei Ying, it is time to get up.”

A small sound came from the blankets, but they did not move like they usually would. Wei Wuxian did not emerge from them, a little pale from sleep, his hair tousled adorably, unbefitting of a man of twenty-five.

Lan Wangji waited for a moment. When nothing happened, he spoke up again.

“Wei Ying. Are you awake?”

“No,” came the muffled answer from the blankets. “Tell Lan Qiren I’m sick.”

Lan Wangji tried to suppress an exasperated sigh, but it was difficult. What a childish thing to do, to lie in order to avoid work!

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Wangji said in a warning tone.

“Lan Wangji,” came the cold answer. “Leave me. I’ll be up in a little bit.”

If anyone asked him, Lan Wangji would be unable to explain what exactly irritated him so much about Wei Wuxian’s words, but irritated him they did. He felt terribly petty even as he was doing it, but before he knew it, he had been compelled to grab the blanket that Wei Wuxian had covered himself with, and ripped it away.

It was evidently an action that Wei Wuxian had not expected from Lan Wangji, since the blanket easily came off, falling to the floor in front of the bed.

It also exposed the ugly truth to Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian had not been stubborn. He had been crying.

“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji exclaimed in shock.

“Ugh,” Wei Wuxian croaked, quickly wiping his eyes with his sleeves. “Just leave me alone for a moment. I’ll be ready on time.”

But Lan Wangji could not do that. How could he? Wei Wuxian had been left alone too often recently, always at the end of the list of priorities ever since his marriage and his public allegiance to Gusu Lan. So instead of leaving, Lan Wangji sat down on the edge of the bed.

Wei Wuxian turned away from him, hiding his tear-streaked face. It was useless to hide, however, for his shoulders still occasionally hitched with suppressed sobs.

Lan Wangji had the strong desire to lay his hand on Wei Wuxian’s back and soothe him, just like his mother had sometimes done to him as a child, but he was unsure whether such an action would be welcome at all.

“Was it my doing?” he asked, a little desperate.

“No, Hanguang-jun is an unparalleled beacon of virtue and justice, as usual,” was Wei Wuxian’s answer, but the words felt terribly bitter to Lan Wangji.

“I am also your husband,” Lan Wangji reminded him. “I have a duty to care for your wellbeing, too.”

That statement was responded to with a disparaging huff.

“Do you now?” Wei Wuxian asked, his voice still bitter.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, pleading. He did not know what else to say. Of course he cared for Wei Wuxian’s wellbeing! He always had! Otherwise, he would never have been so strict with him during the Sunshot Campaign, trying to protect him from himself and everyone else.

But Wei Wuxian continued to give him the cold shoulder, his back stubbornly turned towards Lan Wangji.

“Wei Ying,” he tried again.

That elicited a sigh out of Wei Wuxian, and he finally turned around. His eyes were still full of tears, one of them slipping down his cheek as he sat up, and all Lan Wangji could do was try his best to keep his hands to himself.

“Will you hold me for a moment?” Wei Wuxian asked with the smallest voice that Lan Wangji had ever heard from him.

The ‘yes’ got stuck in his throat, but Lan Wangji had enough presence of mind to lift his arms, to be just inviting enough for Wei Wuxian to tip forwards, right into Lan Wangji’s embrace.

His face was hot, even through Lan Wangji’s robes, and his body shook lightly.

Not unlike a rabbit, Lan Wangji thought to himself as he enveloped Wei Wuxian in a hug, shamelessly burying his nose in Wei Wuxian’s hair. He held onto Wei Wuxian tightly, unwilling to ease his hold, afraid of what would happen if he let go. If Wei Wuxian would disappear, just as elusive as the morning mist outside his window.

They stayed like that for a moment, quiet and unmoving, until Wei Wuxian finally sighed.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was just being overly dramatic.”

Lan Wangji felt like that was not an accurate assessment of the situation, however. He knew there had been tension between them lately. He knew that their relationship was not as it could be. As it had been once, perhaps.

“I care,” he found himself saying. “Even if it is of no consequence.”

Wei Wuxian lifted his head and stared at Lan Wangji with wide, watery eyes.

“You make it very hard to keep my distance, you know.”

That gave Lan Wangji pause.

Distance? He thought in confusion. Why would Wei Ying need to keep his distance?

The next thing he knew were soft lips pressing against his own.

It was over after a moment.

Wei Wuxian drew back, averting his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

It was easy to reel him back in. Lan Wangji’s arms were still around Wei Wuxian. It was easy to hold him close and chase after the sensation of these lips on his own, because it only meant not to hold himself back. This time, when they kissed again, Wei Wuxian’s arms found their way around Lan Wangji’s neck, holding him just as tight as Lan Wangji held Wei Wuxian.

When they finally parted for air, Lan Wangji pressed his forehead against Wei Wuxian’s, unwilling to let him go too far, and lightly swayed back and forth. He was unable to open his eyes, afraid of what he might find once he did. But Wei Wuxian didn’t push him away, didn’t try to escape, but kept holding onto Lan Wangji just as tightly.

A sigh dropped from his mouth.

“Very hard to keep my distance,” he murmured.

Lan Wangji opened his eyes to look at Wei Wuxian, still close enough that his mouth was right there, so very, very kissable. It was foolish to resist, when it was right there. So he kissed Wei Wuxian again.

Once, twice, three times.

If kisses were what his husband needed for his wellbeing, he thought to himself as he wiped the last tears out of the corners of Wei Wuxian’s now smiling eyes, then he would be willing to perform his duties very conscientiously.

“You know that everyone is waiting for Hanguang-jun in the main hall?” Wei Wuxian whispered into his mouth when they parted after another kiss. “They’ll be soo angry if we’re late.”

Lan Wangji decided to silence that protest with more soft kisses.

They could wait for once, he felt, while he brought his private affairs into order.

That was also an important political issue, after all.

[tetrakys]

Eldarya A New Era - episodes 1 and 2

Let’s start with a brief recap and then my comments at the end.

Not much happens plot-wise, which makes sense since the first chapters are always about exposition and introducing the characters.

Episode 1: 

We wake up in the new Crystal room and are swiftly taken by Huang Hua to the infirmary, we are perfectly healthy and have a chance to meet one of our old friends. Since we have been revered as a deity for the past 7 year sin the Crystal, Huang Hua has to make an announcement to the whole HQ saying that we are back into the living world, then we can finally explore HQ, meet old and new friends, get a new outfit and later attend a party in our honour. This is pretty much the plot of the first episode. 

Episode 2:

In the second we have the chance of picking a Guard to belong to, Huang offered the Light one but Erika refuses because she doesn’t feel ready yet. We also get a new sword that Jamon has created for us and we can train a bit with him, afterwards we join a mission and go the forest. Once there we realise there is something wrong, as if some areas looked corrupted. We find a hurt companion and a very human shotgun bullet next to it and an evil-looking companion who attacks us causing us to end our very first mission at the infirmary, as usual. Once we are back on our feet we talk to Huang Hua about the bullet and realise that there is something she is hiding from us, then we help Ewe making a potion to save the companion. The companion got attached to us so we decide to adopt it.

Now a bit of info dump about the characters:

Huag Hua is the new head of the guard since Miiko went back to her family obligations. She is no longer the Phoenix apprentice although we don’t know why yet, she is in a romantic committed relationship with Ewelein who is still the head of the infirmary and member of the Light Guard. 

Aleja and Sonse got married and left, Colaja joined them and she and Jamon broke up since he stayed. He was sad for a bit but then got over it. Kero left when most people left no one knows where he is. Ezarel left with Twilda and Mary Anne to try to make a new life for themselves. Memoria disappeared and no one knows what happened to it and all the dragon spirits. Karuto is still he chef and he became much nicer in time, also is food much better after fruits and vegetables in Eldarya became edible. There is speculation about his relationship with Feng Zifu who is still very polite but much older looking, however nothing confirmed yet.

Huang Chu is the new head of the Absynth Guard, she looks and acts kinda strict and matter-of-factly but she is also surprisingly open-minded, she encourages Erika to think with her own head and never blindly accept anyone’s order not even her own. She doesn’t get along with Mathieu at all.

Koori is a kitsune member of the Absynth Guard, she is funny, provocative and flirty. She wants to become friend with Erika and even flirts a bit. We see her both flirting with and mercilessly teasing Mathieu, not sure if she’s actually hitting on him or playing him, but this seems to be her normal behaviour. 

Chrome is now the head of the Shadow Guard, he and Karenn are still together and while he is the official head it seems that she is his boss as usual so hierarchy is a bit blurry. The both became more mature in time, she is less into gossip and he went through a rough self-blaming patch, but he looks pretty happy right now, eating a lot and constantly making lame jokes, and she seems to have become a real fighter (everyone is recommending to never train with her).

Adalric is a sylph, Erika comments he kinda looks like a genie. He has constantly his head in the clouds forgetting all the most trivial tasks, he talks with the stars and the wind apparently.

Ophelia is this little girl we see for just a moment, we feel that she has the same aura as the Oracle, we hug her but she just smile and leaves. We are told she showed up after the White Sacrifice and no one actually knows anything about her, not even if she sleeps and eats and where. 

Mathieu is a human who stumbled in a mushroom cricle about one year ago, he was sort of a recluse with no friends nor family on Earth, only thinking about fantasy and adventure, so he is very happy to be in Eldarya and couldn’t care less about going back to Earth. To his dismay the test assigned him to the Absynth Guard and he’s constantly hoping to be reassigned to the Obsidian instead. He’s the happy-go-lucky type but seems to also have a certain depth that we will hopefully find out.

Nevra is now a member of the Light Guard and Huang Hua’s right hand (he basically got Leiftan’s old job). He looks more severe and it seems that the events of S1 hardened him. He is back to his slutty ways but in episode he admits frivolous relationships don’t bring him happiness. 

Leiftan got out of the Crystal with us but it took longer for him to wake up. He says that he needs to find himself and wants to put distance between him and everyone else, in fact he refuses to rejoin the Guard. When Erika asks him to train her aengel powers he refuses and says that he won’t ever touch a blade again and will never be responsible of further violence. Nevra can’t stand him at the moment because he thinks he is escaping his responsibilities. 

COMMENTS:

Since people liked the expression I’m going to repeat it again, let’s address the elephant in the room first. (Guys “elephant in the room” is a figure of speech, it’s not a real elephant lol).  No one mentioned who is the head of the Obsidian Guard, when Erika tries to ask one time the subject is swiftly changed and people seem to go out of their way to not go there. Everyone, including their grandparents, their cousins, neighbours and the cousins of their neighbours has figured out that the head of Obsidian is Lance, who is name dropped constantly. I know that there are some people who still like to live in denial, kudos to them. BV all but told me that Lance is coming in episode 3 before Christmas, the release pace is like MCL’s so I’m expecting episodes every second Wednesday of the month at this point, but we’ll see.

The situation with Nevra and Leiftan is heavy not gonna lie. I’ve only played the episode with Nevra so far and my heart broke in tiny pieces, but I want to savour the angst and enjoy the ride. I don’t blame either of the two, Leiftan went from traitor to saviour in a matter of what two days? He had not time to think about his choices and properly reflect on himself. I think it’s fair that the writing his giving him a bit of depth as a character now and not just using him for his abs and to kill and save people when needed. So yeah, I approve him going to therapy or whatever is going to do to achieve self-growth. 

Nevra is a bit trickier, he spent one year moping in front of the Crystal every day, then moved on simply out of survival, and he’s well aware that the life he has now brings him no joy so one would think he would jump into Erika’s arms immediately? He is probably still very much hurting about everything that happened and he still has a fight or flight reaction about everything regarding it, his subconscious reaction when he saw Erika must have been DANGERDANGER RUN. Sleep around is easier because he doesn’t care and can’t be hurt again. While I can understand this, I also think it’s pretty cowardly and I would’ve liked to have given the reaction to get mad, to demand him to spend time with us, because yes he hurt but we spent 7 freaking years in a coma and no time has passed for us, the day before we were swearing love to each other and now this coldness. And yes I could’ve chosen angrier options with him instead of being understanding, but then my LoM would’ve dropped. 

So what I think I’m trying to say is that I would like to have the option of getting mad without having devastating consequences on all the relationships. I know that the next episode is called Rage-something so I am hoping Erika will blow up. We are probably going to run into Lance, find out that he’s been forgiven and working with the Guard and go full violent mode. And hopefully she will get mad with the other guys as well. Homegirl needs to unleash since episode 13 AT LEAST.

Also, since Leiftan refused to train her, I’m expecting that Lance will at some point. Sweaty training sessions with a strict instructor who she kinda hates but also kinda thirst for... 😏😏😏 I have expectations now.

My general comment is that I like the writing so far, I see much improvement from the previous season although it’s too early to judge. I loved the shade thrown at Miiko and the Guard test, you can really tell the writer’s thoughts sometimes, he uses Mathieu to tell us what he thinks. 

The one think I didn’t like is that, while I can understand most of the choices and the events of these two episodes, I don’t understand how the writing can justify Erika not looking for Ezarel if she were on her route. No time has passed for her, anyone would go looking for their lover in a situation like this, not just “oh well, he’s gone”. I know he can’t be brought back, but give me a good, logical reason in game. (Also, I hope to never see him and Valkyon as secondary non-datable characters because I would die inside).

About the other characters, I like Koori and Huang Chu, I don’t like Adalric, just personal taste, he seems to be the type of person who would be into yoga and spiritualism and it’s just not me at all lol.