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apoloadonisandnarcissus · 6 months ago

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“I have many names”: Halbrand, the Repentant Mairon in “Rings of Power”

The themes of redemption, second chances and forgiveness are major in Tolkien legendarium. This is due to Tolkien’s Catholic faith, and the belief that no one is irredeemable in the eyes of God, no matter how low they might have fallen.

And we see “Rings of Power” exploring these themes with Sauron’s character in Season 1. Or better yet, with Halbrand, which is the name the show chose for “Repentant Mairon” (Sauron’s original name) of Tolkien lore.

Nothing is Evil in the Beginning

This is the first quote in “Rings of Power”, narrated by Galadriel. This is a reference to Elrond’s quote in “Fellowship of the Ring” book: “For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so.”

In the beginning of time, in the Days before Days, Mairon (the admirable) was created by Eru (God) as a Maia of Aulë, and he was one of the most powerful Maiar (demigods or angels). He was a Maia of smithing, perfection, order and beauty, with qualities like goodness, purity of heart and loyalty, and a dislike for wastefulness. He helped shape Eä (the material universe) alongside the Valar and the other Maiar, during the Ainulindalë (the music of the Ainur), and these qualities (smithing, perfection, order and beauty) were, most likely, his contributions.

Due to his power, he was targeted by the Dark Lord Melkor/Morgoth (the most powerful of the Valar), who seduced him, with promises of greater power. Morgoth is the Satan of Tolkien lore; he was envious of Eru’s capacity of creation, and wanted it for himself. Unable to have it, he devoted himself to corrupt it (which included the corruption of several Maiar), and destroy it.

Becoming Sauron

Mairon, being an idealist, betrayed the Valar and joined Melkor, seeing in him the opportunity to make his ideas a reality. He went on to become Morgoth’s most devoted servant and chief lieutenant, in charge of Angband fortress, in Middle-earth, during the First Age.

Mairon was corrupted by Morgoth, and reshaped into darkness, and all of his qualities reversed: his love became obsession; of order and perfection into dominion and tyranny; beauty into ugliness and monstrosity (by the breeding of the Orcs), goodness into evil, and his loyalty and purity of heart into treachery and deception, becoming the “great deceiver”. The Elves created the name “Sauron” (the abhorrent), as a mockery of his own.

Eventually, Mairon started to resent Melkor, because their goals turned out to be opposite: while Melkor is chaos and destruction, Mairon is order and perfection. Melkor is brute force, Mairon is the brain. What Melkor wanted to destroy, Mairon wished to perfect. Melkor is chaotic evil, while Mairon is lawful evil.

Mairon’s whereabouts are unknown during several periods of time, especially after his defeat at the hands of Lúthien and Huan, the Hound of Valinor (so it’s uncertain if he was hiding from Morgoth, or if Morgoth locked him up somewhere).

Season 2 of “Rings of Power” has already began shedding some light on this, in 2x07:

Sauron: Be not afraid. This too shall pass. I promise you, when Middle-earth is healed, and its people see what you and I did here… all our sufferings will be worth it. Celebrimbor: “Our sufferings”?

Do you know what it is to be tortured at the hands of a god?

Sauron mentioning Morgoth next and how he treated him, seems to indicate that’s what he meant by “all our sufferings will be worth it”. And this idea goes on in this dialogue:

Sauron: Sometimes, the pain almost became a reward. Became a game. A contest, to see whose will was the mightier. Celebrimbor: And after all that, you would still choose to inflict the same pain upon me? Sauron: No. You chose it. Not I. Celebrimbor: What?

I already analyzed this scene from Tolkien theological views of this dynamic, but we can also talk about the wild amount of projection Sauron is doing here. Because the core theme of this scene is Morgoth’s treatment of Sauron, and how he’s replicating that with Celebrimbor. Which might indicate these were things Sauron himself heard from Morgoth in the past: the pain is a reward; you chose it; you [are] the true author of your own torment.

And Celebrimbor saw through this, which explains his reply to Sauron’s nonsense:

And his advise to Galadriel, in the same episode:

We also see Sauron crying while hearing Adar’s tale, in 2x01: “I was in your place once. In the eldest of the Elder Days. Thirteen of us were chosen to be blessed of Morgoth’s hand, with the promise of power. A new birth. I was led up to a dark and nameless peak. Chained and left.”

There are many interpretations on why Sauron cries, but I think it’s because he’s recalling his own experience of being “blessed by Morgoth’s hand”, which might have been somewhat similar, but far worse, because Mairon is truly immortal, meaning he can be subjected to every sort of torture imaginable, without truly dying, because he can always re-embody.

And even before any explicit mention of torture, this was already clear when we saw Sauron being resistant to extreme physical pain, hinting it’s something he’s very familiar with: not only he was tortured by Morgoth, but his previous physical form got stabbed into oblivion by the Orcs, without him making a sound.

@love-and-doom asked me why didn’t the Valar or other Maiar intervene when Mairon was being corrupted/tortured by Morgoth? Or why didn’t Aulë tried to get Mairon back? Sauron himself answered to that: because he “chose it”, and he’s the true author of [his] own torment.

Free will is another major theme in Tolkien lore. And neither the Valar, and less alone any Maia, could do anything without Eru’s permission. And the moment a character sides with evil in Tolkien lore, it’s stuck with the consequences. And this goes for Marion, Adar and Celebrimbor. Because all of these characters are both victims and accomplices of Morgoth (the original source of evil), directly (Mairon and Adar), or indirectly (Celebrimbor).

Which also explains why Sauron hates and resents the Gods so much; he probably feels they have forsaken him, like they did with Middle-earth after the War of Wrath, hence him stepping in to rebuild and heal it (because no other Vala would); symbolizing his own desire of healing himself from Morgoth’s corruption.

Sauron in Truth Repented

In 2x01, we saw Sauron getting taught some humility by Adar and the Orcs unionizing against him, when he gets his physical form destroyed, by the means of Morgoth’s crown. Afterwards, Sauron is trapped in a cave for centuries, until he’s able to get out.

He, eventually, re-embodies and is able to recover his physical “fair form”, after centuries as a slimy dark substance.

When Morgoth was defeated, it was as if a great, clenched fist had released its grasp from my neck. And in the stillness of that first sunrise, at last, I felt the light of The One again. And I knew if ever I was to be forgiven... That I had to heal everything that I had helped ruin. Sauron tells Galadriel, 1x08

Soon, we see him brought low, depressed and unsure on what path to take; having a identity crisis. Some centuries trapped in a cave being goo will do that, even to a demigod (Maia).

We see him lingering on Middle-earth, and by the visual clues (wardrobe and sword) it can indicate that he might have dwelled among humans for a unknown period of time, and even found himself work as smith (sword).

The passage of time is not only hinted by his clothes, but when we, the audience, last saw him he was at Forodwaith (Northern Waste), and when he meets Diarmid, he’s in the Southlands; which means, he traveled all the way from the north to the southeast of Middle-earth.

The Trials of Mairon: Diarmid

When Thangorodrim was broken and Morgoth overthrown, Sauron put on his fair hue again and did obeisance to Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, and abjured all his evil deeds. And some hold that this was not at first falsely done, but that Sauron in truth repented, if only out of fear, being dismayed by the fall of Morgoth and the great wrath of the Lords of the West. But it was not within the power of Eönwë to pardon those of his own order, and he commanded Sauron to return to Aman and there receive the judgment of Manwë. Then Sauron was ashamed, and he was unwilling to return in humiliation and to receive from the Valar a sentence, in might be, of long servitude in proof of his good faith; for under Morgoth his power had been great. Therefore when Eönwë departed he hid himself in Middle-Earth. The Silmarillion

There is a theory that Diarmid might have been Eönwë in disguise, sent by Manwë, and his mission was to test Mairon and bring him home to Aman. I subscribe to this theory, because not only it’s aligned with what Tolkien wrote, but because Amazon has limited rights to “The Silmarillion”, and needs to adapt and work around it.

And there’s some clues towards this in the dialogue itself:

That way lies death, friend. […] I know you’ve suffered. I can see it in your eyes. There’s another life waiting for you. You just have to turn toward it. […] A sure path may crumble, but there’s always another. Often, it can lead us someplace better. Someplace good. They say there’s places across the sea, a man can escape himself. Find another path. Perhaps another life. Come with us, if you like. Or, walk on. And keep chasing death. Choice is yours, friend.

Diarmid also wears the pouch of the King of the Southlands, which might be another clue; “A symbol of kings, long-dead […] My family served them.”

This is also connected with what Mairon tells Galadriel in 1x03: Be careful, Elf. The heir to this mark is heir to more than just nobility. For it was his ancestor who swore a blood oath to Morgoth. I am not the hero you seek. For it was my family that lost the war.

In "Rings of Power"; this pouch is symbolical of Mairon's blowing up his redemption, and falling back into evil.

The connection between the Southlanders and Morgoth was also a major theme throughout Season 1. This was, after all, the reason why the Elves kept watch over them for centuries: It has changed much, Watch warden. But the Men who live here have not. The blood of those who stood with Morgoth still darkens their veins. (Revion to Arondir; 1x01).

You were right to watch us. Because we are destined for the darkness. It's how we survive. Perhaps it's who we are. Who we will always be. Bronwyn to Arondir, 1x05

What we see here is that Southlanders were kept watch by the Elves to make sure they were fulfilling their penitence for siding with Morgoth, and obtaining their pardon from the Valar.

Hence Diarmid/Eönwë wearing the pouch of the King of the Southlands, as a test for Mairon: will you choose good and redemption (save Diarmid)? Or will you choose evil and Morgoth (the pouch)?

Diarmid: Nightmares again? What haunts you so? Mairon: I've done evil. Diarmid: All of us have done things that we care not to admit. Mairon: Not like I have. Diarmid: Find forgiveness. You are alive because you have chosen good. Mairon: But what of tomorrow? Diarmid: You have to choose it again. And the next day. And the next. Until it becomes a part of your nature.

And this makes even more sense with the sea serpent destroying the ship Diarmid and Mairon were traveling on, in the Sundering Seas, near Valinor. A sea creature, most likely, sent by Ulmo, the Vala of the sea. Or even Ossë, the Maia of Inner Seas, himself.

We have the Gods uniting to test Mairon and killing a bunch of humans in the process. Why I’m telling you this? Because the “Rings of Power” fandom has not yet grasped the concept of “being a God” and how Gods are d*cks, overall, who don’t care about individual lives, they look at the full picture and see reality in 5D. Like Sauron himself. And if they need to kill a bunch of people to accomplish their goals, they will. Even Eru sinks an entire island to punish its people, and He’s the ultimate good (and authority) in Tolkien lore.

And Mairon failed the test, because he chose Morgoth (the pouch), and left Diarmid to die.

The Trials of Mairon: Galadriel and Númenor

Sauron was of course not 'evil' in origin. He was a 'spirit' corrupted by the Prime Dark Lord (the Prime sub-creative Rebel) Morgoth. He was given an opportunity of repentance, when Morgoth was overcome, but could not face the humiliation of recantation, and suing for pardon; and so his temporary turn to good and 'benevolence' ended in a greater relapse. Tolkien Letter 153

Having failed one test, the Valar didn’t give up on Mairon, for they send him another: Galadriel. Who also turned her back on Heaven, by choosing to remain in Middle-earth due to her pride, and desire of hunting down Sauron. And, so, this time, they were both getting tested by the Gods. And even Mairon sees through her, in 1x02: At last, a little honesty. If you want to murder Orcs and settle a score, that's your affair. Don't dress it up as heroism.

When Mairon arrives at Númenor, he sees it as “the place across the sea” Diarmid told him about. Where he can find another path, another life. A island gifted by the Valar themselves to Men, and where they are ever watchful. And so, he believes this is where he can prove his good faith to the Valar and sought their forgiveness for his past sins and crimes under Morgoth.

However, Mairon recognizes that Galadriel can be a liability on his plan of staying at Númenor, not only due to her antagonistic atitude towards the Númenóreans, but also the bad blood between them and the Elves. And that explains his advises to her, in 1x03: “I suggest we set history aside for the moment and show some restraint. Let's try not to antagonize these people.”

When things turn sour in their meeting with Tar-Míriel, we see him employing his charming ways, and acting the diplomat: “It seems to me that our leaving presents some complications. Perhaps it'd be better if we stayed... […] Long enough, good Queen, to give you and your advisors adequate time to weigh our request. A few days, perhaps?”

Of course, Mairon’s intention is not to stay in Númenor for just a “few days”. He wants to stay there in servitude, and prove his good will to the Valar: “I have been searching for my peace for longer than you know. Please, for both our sakes, let me keep it.”

to receive from the Valar a sentence, in might be, of long servitude in proof of his [Sauron] good faith; The Silmarillion

When the petals of Nimloth, the White Tree of Númenor, fall, according to Queen-regent Míriel, the Faithful see in them the tears of the Valar, “a living reminder that their eyes and judgment are ever upon us.”

Which explains Mairon's next actions: after the meeting, he goes straight to Númenor forge, to find himself work there:

There is not another man on this isle that knows this craft better than I. I will shovel coal if needs be, I’ll splinter wood, I’ll shape a sea anchor for you, free of charge, sturdier than anything you have ever seen. How’s that? I’m here to start anew. Lend me that chance. Please. And I won’t forget it. Halbrand/Mairon asks for work at Númenor forge, 1x03

Mairon is told he needs a guild crest in order to be a smith in Númenor, and he’ll do just about anything to get it. And this is when his bounds to Morgoth and his old ways come to the surface: not only does he steal the crest from one of the smiths (and gets into a bloody street fight), but he also tells Ar-Pharazôn of Galadriel’s plans. And this was confirmed by Galadriel herself in 1x05: I wondered how the queen knew to waylay me at her father's bedside. It never occurred to me you'd hand me over for a guild crest.

And we see Mairon working at the forge, and he’s happy. It’s not random that the times we see Mairon truly happy in Season 1 is when he’s smithing; both in Númenor, and at Eregion, alongside Celebrimbor. This was what he was created to do and to be, by Eru himself. This is his purpose, and what’s he’s meant to be doing. Not getting high on power trips (Morgoth).

And this is a great contrast with Season 2: as Mairon goes deeper into evil, he embraces the sorcerer and neglects the smith. We barely saw him doing any actual smithing in Eregion, in Season 2, while in Season 1, he was involved in the entire process.

And, as Galadriel leaves, the petals of Nimloth, the White Tree of Númenor, fall. The Valar “cry”: my theory it’s in approval of Mairon’s decision of staying in Númenor, in servitude. He has proven his good will (“in truth repented”) and needs to stay on his current path (redemption is a process). But Míriel looks at it, all wrong (like her father will warn her about), and thinks it’s a warning to follow Galadriel, when it’s actually the other way around.

And 1x05, we see Galadriel acting behind his back and involving Míriel, Queen regent of Númenor, in her plans of getting herself an army to fight “Sauron” in the Southlands (the army she claims Sauron promised her, in 2x06).

And Mairon is vexed. He doesn’t want any part in this; he wants his redemption. And this is very clear in this scene:

Míriel: My thanks, Lord Halbrand. I'm certain your fellowship will prove just as invaluable once we make landfall. Mairon: "Landfall?" Míriel: Galadriel informed us of your aspiration to unite your people. Mairon: Did she now? Galadriel: I trust she was not speaking in haste? Mairon: As a matter of fact, it was my intention... [to stay in Númenor] Galadriel: My companion is merely feeling the weight of his task. I have no doubt, come time, he will do his part. Míriel: Given that I've staked my name upon it, I should hope so. Edda: Queen Regent, your father has requested your presence in the tower. Mairon: "Galadriel informed us." Galadriel: I wondered how the queen knew to waylay me at her father's bedside. It never occurred to me you'd hand me over for a guild crest. Mairon: You used me. After I all but begged you to let me be. Galadriel: I have just convinced Númenor to send five ships and 500 men to aid your people and place a crown upon your head. Many might assume you used me. Mairon: Find another head to crown.

This is Mairon symbolically rejecting Morgoth. And this is the “good” he should have chosen. This is him passing the test, and a step closer to his redemption.

But Morgoth/Galadriel won’t give up, and she goes to the forge to persuade him into taking up the role of King of the Southlands.

I already talked about this on several posts; in Season 1, we see Galadriel being the “Morgoth” to Mairon’s “Sauron” on several occasions, by tempting him with promises of power. And this Númenor forge scene is a direct parallel with Morgoth tempting Mairon with promises of power in Aulë forge.

This idea is also present in Míriel's scene with her father, the king of Númenor, on the same episode, when Tar-Palantir warns her against going to Middle-earth and follow Galadriel:

Tar-Palantir: The kingdom! The kingdom is in danger. I must... Míriel: The danger has passed, Father. We are doing now what you always believed we must. We're restoring our connection with the Elves. I'm going to Middle-earth. Tar-Palantir: Míriel? Míriel: Yes, Father. It's me. Tar-Palantir: Don't go to Middle-earth. All that awaits you there is... Míriel: What, Father? What awaits me? Tar-Palantir: Darkness.

And this is true to both Míriel and Mairon, because darkness is what awaits for them there, should they follow Galadriel. Because, just like Adar tells her, in 1x06: It would seem I'm not the only Elf alive who has been transformed by darkness. Perhaps your search for Morgoth's successor should have ended in your own mirror.

And we see this dynamic with Galadriel and Mairon in the forge scene, where the pouch (Morgoth) is used as a plot device; while Galadriel wants him to take it, Mairon rejects it.

Galadriel: I was wrong to use you. For that, I'm sorry. Tomorrow, the queen will call you to audience. Your voice at that meeting may well decide whether this mission stands or falls. Help me. Mairon: I think I've helped you quite enough. Galadriel: Then help yourself. Stop fighting me, and together, let us fight them.

And this is when Galadriel tells him about her brother's death (although Mairon was already aware of this). But that's not what makes him reconsider, and essentially ruin his redemption. It’s when Galadriel says this:

The company I led mutinied against me. My closest friend conspired with the king to exile me. And each of them acted as they did… Because I believe they could no longer distinguish me… from the evil I was fighting.

And this is personal to Mairon. Because of what happened with Adar and Orcs; not only they mutinied against him, but they could no longer distinguish him from Morgoth.

And this is related with what Adar himself tells Galadriel in 1x06: After Morgoth's defeat, the one you call Sauron… Devoted himself to healing Middle-earth, bringing its ruined lands together in perfect order. He sought to craft a power not of the flesh… But over flesh. A power of the Unseen World. He bid as many as he could to follow him far north. But try as he might… Something was missing […] For my part… I sacrificed enough of my children for his aspirations. I split him open. I killed Sauron.

Your sorrow cannot ease my pain. And nor will a hammer and tongs ease yours. There is no peace to be found for you here. And nor for me. No lasting peace in any path, but that which lies across the sea. I have fought for centuries, seeking to earn mine. This is how you earn yours.

Find Forgiveness

And this is when everything collapses, and changes for Mairon. He now believes his redemption is connected to Galadriel and her forgiveness. But he’s deeply mistaken, because by following Galadriel and going to Middle-earth, all that awaits him there is darkness, like Tar-Palantir prophesied.

And that’s why Galadriel is connected to the Fall of Númenor visions: she's the “Morgoth” who brings "Sauron" back, like Gil-galad foresaw, in 1x01: “We foresaw that if it had, she [Galadriel] might have inadvertently kept alive the very evil she sought to defeat [Sauron]. For the same wind that seeks to blow out a fire may also cause its spread.”

By following Galadriel, Mairon chooses deception over redemption. And it’s like Elrond says to Galadriel in 2x02: “It was entirely of your choosing. Sauron looked inside you, plucked the very song of your soul, note by note, making himself out to be exactly what you needed. "The Lost King" who could ride you to victory.”

And this is exactly what Mairon does, hoping to earn Galadriel’s forgiveness, and redeem himself. And he makes his choice. And he chooses wrong. He fails the test; and he chooses Morgoth (the pouch), all over again.

And in 1x06, we see Mairon helping people, and guiding them to safety. And he thinks it’s because of Galadriel’s influence on him, and not of his own doing. Because he’s a Maia, he was created as a servant, and he needs to serve someone, otherwise he’s lost.

Galadriel: Whatever it was he did to you, and whatever it was you did... Be free of it. Mairon: I never believed I could be... Until today. Fighting at your side, I... I felt... If I could just hold on to that feeling, keep it with me always, bind it to my very being, then I...

And when Galadriel tells him “I’ve felt it too”; it’s the confirmation and validation Mairon needed. He thinks she’ll be willing to bind herself to him, and keep him in the light, and he'll achieve the redemption he so desperately wants.

But Galadriel’s light is merely aesthetic; it’s the light of the Two Trees of Valinor, who shines on every Elf who was born during the Years of the Trees. But in her case it’s more perceptible, because of her legendary golden, shot with silver, hair. And it’s her beauty that blinds Mairon; the Maia who loves beautiful things.

Forgiveness takes an Age

Forgiveness doesn't come to folk like me. Sooner or later, they'll cast me out, you know they will. Estrid to Isildur, 2x03

In Tolkien legendarium “forgiveness” is not just “earned”, it’s given, as well. And we see this with Frodo and Gollum in “Lord of the Rings”: it’s Frodo’s mercy and pity that ultimately allow Gollum to “redeem” himself, because he's the one who destroys the Ring, by falling down the volcano with it. Frodo, in “Fellowship of the Ring” believed Gollum deserved death and that Bilbo should have killed him when he got the chance, but Gandalf shares some wisdom with him on that topic. However, after he meets Gollum, he pities him and takes mercy on him.

And when Galadriel rejects his offer, Mairon sees it as a rejection of her forgiveness. She tells him: No penance could ever erase the evil you have done; and he sees this as confirmation of his worse fears, on a subconscious level (because he’ll try to redeem himself through the “rings of power” masterplan, still); he’s not worthy of redemption, and others will always cast him out. This is the turning point for him.

Because this is also a theme morally gray or villainous characters face in Tolkien lore (especially in The Silmarillion): they are always seen as irredeemable by others, and must die. But these characters are wrong, due to Tolkien’s ideas of redemption, rooted in Catholic faith (and this is what is called “unreliable narrators”, because “The Silmarillion” is written by the Eldar POV, and is a collection of facts, myths and gossip, essentially).

In Tolkien lore, “redemption” is a process, and a nuanced and complex idea. It’s broader than just one villain turning good overnight, because in the legendarium this process is not instantaneous. It’s pretty much like Diarmid tells Mairon in 2x01: it’s a process where the character has to progress towards good by conscious choice and free will: “you have to chose it again, until it becomes part of your nature”.

But Mairon never chooses this. And in Season 1 of “Rings of Power”, it’s exactly what Tolkien wrote: he in truth repents, temporarily turns to good and benevolence, but doesn’t see his redemption through as a result of his own choices. And the “pride” Tolkien talks about is personified in Galadriel, and him choosing to follow her, instead of staying in Númenor in servitude. But he means well throughout Season 1 and Season 2, too; when he embraces the next plot of his character arc, “Annatar the reformer”.

And this is Halbrand. And he was very much real, and not one of “Sauron’s illusions” or deceptions. He was Mairon seeking redemption and pardon from the Valar due to his crimes under Morgoth.

I'm planning on doing meta on "Annatar the Reformer" of Tolkien lore, too. But I got a feeling "he" is not over in "Rings of Power", just yet. I think that plot will continue in Season 3.

#the rings of power #rings of power #Sauron #sauron rings of power #rop sauron #sauron trop #Mairon rings of power #Halbrand #celebrimbor #Celebrimbor rings of power #Galadriel #Galadriel rings of power #diarmid #haladriel

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qiu-yan · 9 months ago

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MDZS and asshole victims: thoughts on the second siege of the burial mounds scene

this post is not about morality judgments. this post is about reader sympathies only.

one rather clever rhetorical trick MDZS employs is putting all the more background "surviving victims of wei wuxian's actions" into one big angry mob at the second siege of the burial mounds, instead of letting them crop up anywhere else in the story. it's easy for a first-time reader to write off the guy who lost a leg at nightless city, or the guy whose parents died at nightless city, because both of those guys are being dicks. they're part of an angry mob baying for wei wuxian's blood--unfairly baying for wei wuxian's blood, because this time he didn't even do the thing they're saying he did. by putting these two victims into a mob of not just fellow victims but also unaffected individuals (ie. sect leader yao, who just showed up for kicks), the story can effectively equate these victims' grievances (ie. "you killed my parents") with unreasonable mob rule--even if these two things might not actually be equivalent.

the effect of this rhetorical trick, then, is that the reader can at once perceive the themes about mob mentality MXTX wishes to convey, and also effectively write off the victims' complaints. "yes, i did that to you, but i literally died already, what more do you want me to do? shall i walk on my knees repenting?" becomes easier for the reader to accept. and more importantly--wei wuxian's likability as a moral and just protagonist is not impacted.

ngl tho. it would be a bit more difficult for the reader to write off these victims' complaints if, instead of meeting said victims in an angry mob, the reader instead met these victims almost anywhere else. imagine if, instead of meeting mr. "you killed my parents" at the second siege of the burial mounds, we instead met him getting smashed at the local bar and crying about how his parents are dead. imagine if, instead of meeting mr. "you chopped off my leg" as a member of an angry mob, we instead met him begging for alms on the side of the road because his disability rendered him unable to work in a wuxia-esque setting. or imagine--if either of these background characters, overcome with survivor's guilt and trauma from nightless city, hung himself in his bedroom, and the next day his body was discovered by his 15-year-old daughter.

all of these scenarios are entirely plausible. you could easily include any of them into the story without changing the main plot at all. but suddenly shit just got a lot more depressing.

however, no such scene would ever be included in MDZS. the reason is that, as a work of fiction, MDZS's single most ardent goal is for us the readers to conclude not just that "we like wei wuxian as a character," but also that "wei wuxian is ultimately a morally righteous person." when the narrative focus shifts onto the people who were actually helped by wei wuxian's actions (mianmian and her family, lan sizhui, the few months of dignity the wen remnants were afforded) this becomes much easier for us to conclude; wei wuxian does indeed look like a hero. but the more narrative focus is given to the negative impacts of wei wuxian's actions--the more the "victims of wei wuxian" (whether actual victims or not) are given a face, instead of abstracted away by broad summaries--the more the reader might side-eye wei wuxian instead. every new victim given a name, given narrative attention that isn't just focused on making them look like an asshole, arouses the reader's sympathies in the opposite direction--and thus increases the risk that the reader might ultimately disagree with the novel's conclusion of "wei wuxian is a righteous person."

tbh, this does not seem like a risk MXTX particularly wants to take. instead, she's mastered the art of writing Asshole Victims.

which is an entirely valid writing decision, because imo basically every work of genre fiction out there does this to some extent.

#mdzs #yanyan speaks #yanyan haterpost #tbh this is also why jzx gets so little narrative focus #wwx kills him...so if the readers like him too much they might turn against wwx. which is no bueno.#this is also why jc is such a dick in the present half of the novel:#wwx did cause him a lot of harm (and vice versa) so it's easier to write him off and not get mad at wwx if jc is a huge dick about it.#jc's easy to hate lmao. asshole victim.#this is also also why jyl had to die.#she's too nice to be an asshole victim.#like if fucking jc starts ragging on wwx you can easily argue that he also did xyz wrong. also he's being a douche.#but if jyl starts crying about her murdered husband then shit just gets awkward and depressing.#anyways real apologists will say Skill Issue. godspeed kings

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jerbunni · 14 days ago

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⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ Sunday x Reader - Chains☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

[ ༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩 Minors DNI𓆪ᘚ. °｡༻ ] [ 18+ ] [ Tags ] : kinky, bdsm (chained, blindfolded, cuffed), nsfw, 18+, worship, lore intertwined, eeeviill sunday

[ Synopsis ] : You're riddled with sin. Thankfully, the head of the Oak Family is here to help you find salvation.

Blindfolded, bare, and bound by your hands, you could no longer bear the weight of your sins. Although purehearted, you were a human. And all humans bore sin.

He knew this well. And despite his standing, he, too, was soiled with sin. So much sin that he could not bring himself to let you go. His plaything, the fledgling that he prevents from flying, is caged in an enclosure gilded in gold.

“Speak to me,” He’d coo, his gloved fingers tracing gentle stripes against your jaw, “I have sought THEIR presence with us.”

“A-And?” You’d whisper in return, your breath hitching as his fingers outlined the collar clasped around your neck, “What do THEY want with me?”

Oh, how wrong he knew this was. Using THEIR will to preach HIS wicked desires. Even so, he could not help himself.

“Do you sincerely repent and vow to pledge yourself to THEIR will?” He hummed, his skillful fingers approaching your collarbone, daring to dip further, “Have you examined your soul and confessed all your sins? Are you willing to accept the process of atonement?”

You hurriedly nod your head, goosebumps peppering your bare skin, “Y-Yes, I’m willing… I-I’ll do anything! I want to atone…”

Truthfully, you weren’t entirely sure what you had done wrong. But he’d never do anything that wasn’t in your best interest, would he?

Peace, tranquility, paradise, these were all things that he promised to provide to you, and eventually the rest of Penacony. You wanted to-- you had to be a part of his utopia, no matter the cost.

“Very well.”

As he spoke, his fingers retracted from your skin, leaving you cold.

“Then show your dedication to me, and you shall be reinstated among THEIR future.”

You nod your head again, the goosebumps spreading further across your chest, and in turn, hardening your nipples.

The sound of shuffling is followed by the familiar noise of chains. You feel your collar tighten, the chain attached to it pulling upward to force you on the tips of your toes.

“Under the light of the Harmony,” he begins, carefully taking off his gloves, “all wickedness is revealed.”

You swallow, breathing becoming heavier as your calves cramp to hold yourself up.

“I implore THEM to shed THEIR light, and I’ll perform on THEIR behalf…”

Lightheadedness overtakes you with every word he speaks. Even blindfolded, you feel your eyelids feel heavy as a sensation of repose takes hold of you.

“You’ll have until I say to release yourself, and submit yourself to THEIR will… Prove yourself by telling me-- telling THEM, what you feel.”

With those words, you feel his controlled hands delicately encase your breasts with a soothing warmth. His fingers shaping and molding your pliant mounds to his satisfaction.

“M-Mister Sunday…” You whine, “W-What if I don’t say anything? Will the Harmony reject me? Will Ena, too, reject me?”

You feel his movements pause momentarily. Though your concern consumes you, Sunday couldn’t care less about your worries. The way you so innocently speak his name gives him all the entitlement in the universe.

“My dear, THEY would not reject you, less you lied.” With the emphasis on THEY, you swallow. One of Sunday’s hands drifts to your face with a tight hold on your jaw. The tips of his fingers press into your cheeks with a strength that urges a whine from you.

“And if you were to lie, I would be alerted by THEM, mind you.”

You nod in agreement, now having an explanation to the f☐g in ☐☐ur m☐nd.

“Another thing,” He continues, his digits digging deeper into your skin, “Mind the way you speak of THEM. Manners are important, hm?”

You nod your head once more, your toes becoming sore, “Sorry, Mister Sunday,” you mumble.

Every mention of his name brings him closer to his breaking point. Still, he continues to hold strong. With the loosening of his grip, Sunday accepts your apology with a kiss. Despite the harsh indents in your cheeks, his lips feel gentle and forgiving.

“You’re forgiven,” He whispers, his fluttering wings tickling your shoulders.

He returns his hand to your chest, thumbs grazing your nipples to warrant their perkiness. You shudder in response, your body submitting to him almost instantly.

You feel the wetness between your legs grow as he continues to toy with your body. Though it’s embarrassing to admit, the f☐☐ in yo☐r mi☐d compels you to speak, “I-I need more…”

“Oh?”

“Please, t-this isn’t enough…”

Your begging pleases him more than you'll ever know. He leans forward, planting a tender kiss between your breasts. His wings flutter as he does so, eliciting another goose-bump-riddled shudder from you.

“What more is it that you need, my dear?” He questions, continuing to work his fingers into your breasts.

The longer you take to answer him, the heavier the newfound pounding in your head grows. It pains you to be so honest with him, but if it’s for this growing headache to cease, and for THEM to accept you, you’ll answer him truthfully.

“Y-Your fingers…” You swallow, “D-Down… there…”

“Down where?” He questions, a hidden, sinister smile stretching at the corners of his lips, “Elaborate.”

“Mister Sunday, please-”

You feel your breath hitch as the collar around your throat tightens. You rested your feet only for a moment, forgetting the purpose of the chain that had lifted you.

“Please, do be careful,” He mumbles, “It’d be a shame for my favorite little pl☐☐th☐☐g to hurt herself.”

You’re not entirely sure what he said, the f☐☐ in your bra☐n is too strong to comprehend it. But to be crowned his favorite anything is an honor you won’t be taking for granted.

A weak smile stretches onto your lips as you thank him. But you don’t forget about his demand from earlier.

“I-I… I need your fingers on my p-pussy…”

You’re beyond embarrassed, but even so, Sunday doesn’t shame you. In fact, he rewards you for your honesty by listening to your request, all with that smile plastered on his lips.

“Of course,” He hums, one hand slipping past your ribs and navel to graze against your slick entrance.

He gives your breast a firm squeeze as his middle finger prods at your slit, compelling you to buck your hips. Your calves are incredibly sore, but you want to stay strong for THEM-- for him.

“Your body’s so honest…” He mutters, his index joining his middle finger as he continues to collect your slick on his digits, “You enjoy such a ritual? You enjoy submitting to THEM?”

You open your mouth to speak, your cheeks becoming hot as you rethink your answer. It’s not THEM that you enjoy submitting to…

“I-It’s not…” You pause, gathering your thoughts. Your honesty’s cascading so effortlessly from your lips, “It’s you… I like it when you touch me…”

“...Is that so?”

You nod your head, your fingers flexing behind you as your legs wobble, “Y-Yes… S-Sometimes, I find myself looking for things to repent for in order for you to…” You trail off, swallowing hard. The more you speak, the more aware you become of your surroundings.

Due to your lack of vision; his rhythmic breathing, the slick sounds of your moistened folds, and the ☐og i☐ yo☐r br☐☐n consume you. Every touch forces your body to break out in goosebumps. You’re so painfully sensitive, hot, and honest. So, incredibly honest, it hurts.

“Come to, my y/n,” He coos, giving your boob another tight squeeze, “I need you here. Finish your sentence. Tell THEM.”

You feel your tongue numb as you speak, and you can’t help but slur your words, “T-To touch me… I-I find myself looking for things to repent for so I can feel your hands on me, M-Mister Sunday…”

As soon as you finish your sentence, you feel his fingers brazenly push into you. Your legs wobble, and it takes everything in your power to straighten your posture and stay on the tips of your toes.

“Is that so…” He mumbles again, this time with a lack of regard for your feelings.

You hurriedly nod in response, as if lingering for even a moment will disturb your repenting ritual.

"Yes... F-For you, Mister Sunday, I-I even go so far as to--"

Interrupting you, he catches your whimpers with a kiss.

With his lips pressed so tenderly against yours, you can’t help but lean forward into him. The collar around your neck tightens as you do so.

You're choking. It hurts. But you don’t care.

You need him.

You’re addicted to his touch.

Once he pulls away, your whimpering resumes, and it’s intensified with the thrusting of his fingers. Despite the lack of thickness, they’re long, and they press right into the spongy little spot that makes your legs shake.

“S-Sunday…” You whine, your cuffed hands shaking behind you, “F-Feels so good… please don’t stop…”

To you, he's on the highest pedestal imaginable. There's no world in which he'd even dare to stoop to your level. But in reality, he’s filthier than you. He finds his own pleasure in hearing your pleads, the tightness in his pants growing evermore with every whine.

“Why would I?” He questions, the grasp on your breast growing painfully tight, “THEY enjoy your honesty. THEY revel in such a thing.”

You wince at the harsh hold on your chest, it’s sure to leave a bruise, "D-Do THEY?"

No response.

The pace in his fingers quicken, the slick noises emanating from your pussy bringing a swirling sense of shame in your stomach. Surely, you aren’t this filthy…

“O-Oh... M-Mmn..! S-Sunday, P-Please-”

You’re so close. You grind your hips down into his fingers, the collar choking you as your legs shake out of exhaustion. Even so, your chase for pleasure consumes you, and you ignore the tightening feeling on your throat to continue seeking after your high.

“Please what?” He asks.

“I-I need to cum- P-Please, let me…!”

With a soft chuckle, he bends forward to place a kiss onto your forehead.

“If THEY allow it….”

Your breathing grows heavier in an attempt to combat the suffocating tightness around your throat, yet you still decide to chase this pl☐☐su☐e.

“M-Mister Sunday…” You whine out, tears wetting the cloth blinding you, “P-Please…”

You find yourself growing weak, your body giving in to the f☐g. You can’t comprehend anything else, only the ☐☐g cl☐uding y☐u☐ br☐☐n. You need this. You need him.

He laughs again, letting go of your breast to instead hold onto your jaw. With a tug, he forces you back onto the tips of your toes.

“If my pla☐th☐ng wants it…”

You nod your head, mimicking him without full understanding of what it is you’re mimicking, “Y-Your pl☐☐yhin☐ w-wants it…”

Aeons, you’re perfect. You’re perfect, and you’re all his. He wastes no time to kiss you once more, and you return the kiss with all the desperation pent up inside of you.

You feel his warm, wet tongue prod at your bottom lip, and in response your mouth falls open to allow him entrance.

You need to release, but it’s hard to beg when your words are silenced by his tongue. Thankfully, however, he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting between the two of you before he speaks:

“Cum for me.”

With little hesitation, you feel the butterflies in your stomach swirl and bubble up before dispersing into a cascade of slick down his fingers. Whimpering and babbling ‘thank yous’, your knees buckle at your own release, and the grip he holds on your jaw tightens in an attempt to hold you steady.

Annoyedly, he sucks his teeth.

“What a mess.”

“S-Sorry…” You whine, your calves cramping, “M-Mister S☐nd☐☐…”

Though you say his name, the spelling seems to slip your mind.

He doesn’t respond to the plea of his name, instead deciding to bask in the sight of you. He drinks in everything from your desperation to your contentment, admiring the sweat and slick glistening down your naked body.

“Su☐☐ay…”

Another mention of HIS name seems to get HIM to respond to you.

“Ah?”

“My feet hurt… A-And I’m tired… May I please be released…”

Admittedly, he doesn’t want to let you go. He wants to stay here, basking in your presence forevermore. But the guilt would eat at him. You were too precious.

“...Yes…” He finally gives in, releasing his hold on your face to lower the chain holding you.

Once the tightness on your neck loosens and the cooling sensation of the chains extends down to your lower back, you fall to your knees with a shaky sigh, hands still bound behind you.

“Thank you…” you sigh, “Thank you, thank you…”

He didn’t want to let you down, but the sight of you on your knees beneath him is more rewarding than the initial scenery he was so desperately clinging onto. The strain in his pants becomes so painfully stiff as you speak, “D-Do THEY accept me, now? I-I did everything you asked of me…”

What should he say?

Using THEIR power is sinful enough, but to postpone your atonement for HIS enjoyment?

You feel his warmth as he bends down to you, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair to direct your attention to him.

“...You mentioned you seek atonement to warrant my touch…”

Your lips quiver as HE speaks. You nod your head, mouth hung slightly agape as you try to stutter out an explanation.

In response, he shushes you, his soiled fingers pressing against your lips. He doesn’t need to speak in order for you to get his hint, your mouth falls farther open as you take his middle and index into your mouth to clean him.

“THEY have yet to accept you, however…”

You find yourself chasing his fingers as he tries to pull away, your lips frantically closing around his knuckles with a whine. You taste so delicious. No longer is it the ☐og ☐☐ yo☐☐ ☐☐ad. It’s pure desperation for HIM.

Despite your silent plea, HE pulls HIS fingers away, leaving your mouth feeling empty.

“You haven’t submitted to me.”

“Ah..?"

“Not fully, anyhow.”

“Then, w-what more must I do, Su☐☐a☐…?”

HIS hold on your hair loosens before slipping away altogether. Having been relying on HIM to hold you, you feel yourself sink onto the floor fully.

“For starters,” HE begins, rising above you, “Mind your manners. Honorifics are important, hm?”

“H-Huh?” It takes you a moment to comprehend HIS words, but once you do...

“A-Ah, I’m sorry, M-Mister S☐nd☐☐…”

Oh you’re just so perfect for HIM.

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swagmaster20007 · 13 days ago

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ENA DREAM BBQ THEORY/INTERPRETATION!

SPOILERS FOR DREAM BBQ

my interpretation of dream bbq is mostly focused on the bathroom/genie storyline, and explores themes of sin, religion and guilt. in dream bbq there's a theme of ena being unforgiven, yet faithful, we don't know where her faith comes from and what it is focused on but she makes references in her dialogue to god, ALOT. this is interesting in contrast to how she is treated throughout the game, most of the insults aimed at her are focused more on who she is rather than what she did. which is something i want to bring up in a later blog hehe, i have many theories about her sins. ena seems to have faith in her work, at least in my opinion and theory, she constantly blesses people for their business, her persona is literally a bad cop good cop type salesperson/worker and she is shown to have a talent for tricking people with her sales tactics. she reminds a friend of mine specifically of a missionary. which i agree with, she seems to force her beliefs surrounding work onto others, no matter the consequences. this is often also seen in her inner dialogue when you inspect things, very first corridor you find yourself in, with closed shops is interactable and all ena will say is "every good business should be open all hours" as well as "it's much better when it's working" her relationship to work and her faith in it however is much more strained when you actually pay attention to some of her meanie sides statements. "you kidding!? i hate this stupid job!" or "regrettably, i am very hard working-" she is referred to as an over worker by other characters and npcs within the game, and is proven to do anything possible to get a job done. (proven by the fact she literally destroys the lonely door's realm by turning off the smoke) now to the bathroom bits, what's the deal with the bathroom? in my head the bathroom has always had a dual metaphor (one metaphor for two things) and those would be bathroom means break from work, skipping, overworking and stress or bathroom means clearing yourself of sin, purity, and repenting two VERY different meanings but i'll try to explain both in the case of the first scenario, it's pretty obvious, as soon as ena enters the lonely door and tells froggy she'll find the genie, her speech is distorted to say bathroom, resulting in froggy telling her she may go, however, not to use the bathroom to skip work, "i know that trick!" this is further supported by froggy constantly misunderstanding ena. if she's skipping work or not, froggy wouldn't know, and as soon as he points out that she's partying mid work in the purge event route, she breaks down. i feel like this interpretation is more focused on her not wanting to be perceived as someone who skips work, even if she tries her hardest to get the job done, she will always be perceived as someone who won't do their best. the second scenario is also pretty obvious, less so, but definetly not a reach, the bathroom is seen as a place of purity, clearing yourself of a sin, in this case. possibly vomit, something you subjected yourself to but that you shall repent for. which is hinted at when you reach the bathroom, and ena states that she hates herself shortly before barfing. not only is this interesting because ena is unforgiven! but also because apparently everyone in the uncanny streets is reaching for this bathroom, to clear their sins, to repent and "have the truth revealed" to them, ena and a different character (that i'll mention in a theory post) are both the only ones who are completely unforgiven as stated by theodora. a few other details that support this religious take on the bathroom, is that the bathroom stalls upon reaching it, are built like confessional booths, lined up next to eachother, whispers filling the area, of perhaps the past people who had repented in this very room.

#ena #joel g #ena dream bbq #dream bbq #dream bbq ena #theory #analysis #ena theory #ena dbbq #dream bbq analysis #worker ena #ena theodora #ena fandom

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alexanderlightweight · 3 days ago

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İ would really like to see more of fearie alec if you are able🩷

here is some more from it!! I hope you enjoy (jsyk if there isn't a nsfw, sfw or both on a prompt then I make sure to write just sfw prompt responses to be safe. nothing wrong, I just realized I need to start mentioning that when I respond to prompts without it).

<3 lumine

tethers of fate

Alec can feel the tug of the many ties he shares to his kin and it feels like a lure, something to pull him away from Magnus.

The magic is writhing, roiling with emotions but none of them bad, or even dangerous. He takes a minute to consider before ignoring it.

No, it’s better for Alec to ignore it for now. He'll prune whatever has occured before the rot sets in but after the storm has passed.

Time is tricky in the lands where he grew and Alec has no wish to accidentally leave Magnus for days upon days when he only meant to go for a few hours.

Instead he rises and goes to Magnus’ apothecary, checking on some of the plants Alec is drying for Magnus’ use. Some of them need to retain a certain amount of moisture and others need to be daily fed fae or wild magic to preserve the properties in each plant.

It’s tedious work for some, but Alec doesn’t mind doing it as long as he’s doing something. There’s nothing so tiring as being bored and alone and while Alec could summon Magnus — sometimes just missing him is enough to bring him to Alec’s side — Magnus has business.

Business that Alec will no longer interfere in. Not because Alec’s presence is an interference, but because Alec’s safety has become a concern and nothing distracts Magnus so much as Alec being in danger.

If it means isolating himself in Magnus’ wards, the realms Magnus owns and the rare visit to his own kin, then Alec will deal with that. In his own way, of course.

—-

“Shadowhunters, again. Both from the Institute and Circle members.” Magnus has barely spoken before arms are holding him tight, pulling him close to Alexander’s broad chest and he can smell the scent of flowers and herbs and Magnus’ own shampoo on his heart.

“You’re not injured?” Alexander licks the skin of Magnus’ jaw as he asks and the magic dances across Magnus’ skin as it assesses him.

“Only my pride.” Magnus admits, because he hadn’t expected Dorothea to side with shadowhunters over following his own laws. She’ll need to be brought before a tribunal because despite what Jocelyn Fairchild convinced Dot of, working with Valentine’s wife and a woman who never repented or regretted her crimes — only what her deeds cost her — is unacceptable.

“Betrayal.”

Alexander can taste the acrid burn of it in Magnus’ magic. One of his own subjects, committing treason practically on Magnus’ front step and then bolding, audaciously even, lying to him about it. Denying his aid and flinging his protection back in his face.

“Shall I hunt her down for you?”

As delicious as the idea of Alexander summoning the elk wraith he rides and hunting down Dorothea with his loyal hounds — hounds of Edom Magnus had specifically brought for him to raise rather than let more fae creatures in his land. It cannot be allowed. Not with how the balance wavers and dips and war could start at any moment.

“No, I’d rather have you here. Hunting me down.” Magnus winks as he says it and earns a laugh that echoes with the rumbling of ancient trees.

“I can’t hunt what I’ve already caught, now can I?” Alexander slides into Magnus' lap with the ease of someone who knows it’s exactly where he belongs. “Now, tell me about your day. Mine was too boring to share, so I shall live vicariously through you.”

Magnus laughs, kissing his demanding prince on the forehead and then on the lips until Alexander’s is pushing him away with a laugh.

“Talk to me first, before I forget what words are, Magnus.”

#lumine writes #writing wednesdays #writing wednesday #tethers of fate #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec

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mellowwillowy · 1 year ago

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𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬

⤷ synopsis: The Pastor has always been a man worthy of your adoration so you would obviously still adore him despite him teaching you an entirely false lesson no?

⤷ warnings — GN reader, religious themes, eldritch horror (tentacle shits), light bdsm (spanking, caning, blood), NSFW MDNI

"What does a bad, naughty sheep deserve from its shepherd?" "Th-the Shepherd's crook?" "Correct." One of his tentacles hands him the crook and he uses the hook to yank you closer toward him, "What do you say if we start it easy with a counting till' 12?"

ꕤ The Pastor has always been the man you adore and aspire to be, always so kind and generous in helping anyone while teaching them what the Pastor deems to be 'true'. You have always been nothing but a lamb of his teachings, following him as though he is your shepherd.

ꕤ The Pastor says that he shall love and guide everyone equally but is that even 'true'? When the others could only listen to him, you on the other hand are able to feel his teaching firsthand.

ꕤ The Pastor sates you from earthly desires and guides you toward the righteous path, living in virtue. Why would you ever desire when he has given you everything you could ever want?

ꕤ Gluttony? You could eat whatever you want, be it the world's most gruesome meal. Pride? You will always be respected by all the acolytes and people around you. Envy and Greed? How could you even envy when you have everything in yourself? Wrath? No one would ever incur wrath out of you, for he himself guarantees it. Sloth? You have always been there in all the ceremonies he has ever held.

ꕤ Lust? When his tentacles that are hidden beneath his robes will never fail to pleasure you? Those suckers that leave lots of marks that sign you have belonged to something?

ꕤ The confession box that serves as a place for people to confess and repent allows Caelus to forgive and purify you as his tentacles wrap themselves around your body, suckers kissing your skin as he listens to your confession. By the end of the session, he'll dictate your next course of actions

"Kneel by the altar and pray for 15 minutes while I purify you alright? You must be pure no matter what."

ꕤ You have always been the lamb of his herdings, obediently kneeling and praying while his lip roams around the nape of your neck, hand feeling your body up and down as he starts undressing you for God to witness.

ꕤ Alas he himself is the God who is witnessing everything, of how you diligently pray for forgiveness while your body trembles from excitement and anticipation. Caelus licks your neck as his tentacles start to loom out of his robes.

ꕤ It is undeniable that Caelus knows his way around your body even from the first time he lays his hand on you. It was almost as though he had long known how your body would react to every single touch he made. All felt too familiar.

ꕤ Caelus starts by kissing your ears, and nibbling your earlobes while he positions your kneeling figure. Soon, his lip trails down onto your neck and your collarbone, giving it a trail of wet kisses and hickeys.

"How do you feel, my sheep?"

You stutter out an answer that is enough to make him nod and continue on his way with you, this time his hands work their way to undress you. Caelus relentlessly binds your limbs with his tentacles, lifting you mid-air as he feels your sex, "An excited one, aren't you? One must now dwell in the temptation of sins." He chides as he flicks your sex that was clothed by your wet underwear.

ꕤ You whine at the sudden touch, your opened mouth allows the tentacle to invade your mouth, feeling how warm the insides of your mouth are. The suckers taste you as they suck your tongue and the surroundings, your moan sending vibrate toward Caelus indirectly.

Caelus starts to stroke your sex, slow and steady as he feels it throbs under his touch. He can see it clearly with how wet your underwear is, urging him to slide it down and bare your sex open for him to observe.

"How needy, I haven't done much and you are this excited already? Does it start from the moment I order you to kneel down?"

ꕤ The Pastor has always known his way around his words and you realize that he is being lenient with his teachings today, is he being solemn? That aside, he really knows how to use his mouth on you, tasting the fluid that drenches your underwear while the tentacle inside your mouth invades deeper, causing you to gag at its thickness and length.

"Pa-pas-thorh, I-, C-C-Caelus!"

Although it is supposed to be a plea for him to pull his tentacle out, it starts to sound like a pleasured whimper. Caelus chuckles as he licks your cheek upward, tasting the sweat and tears that are on your face, "Why, it seems like you are quite enjoying yourself too." He gives your sex a smack, showing you how desperate you are for a release as well. "Tell me, have you been the sheep you are? Obediently following me as I herd you toward your den? Your safe haven?"

You want to nod but you know better than to do that after confessing yourself to him in the confession box. The tentacle retreats itself to allow you to speak, "I- I have not... Pastor."

"Then, what does a bad, naughty sheep deserve from its shepherd?" You gulp, "Th-the Shepherd's crook?" Caelus smiles, "Correct." One of his tentacles hands him the crook and he uses the hook to yank you closer toward him, "What do you say if we start it easy with a counting till' 12?"

If anything you are trying not to shake your head vigorously, only swallowing the lump in your throat. Just before you can retort, he lifts you even higher, baring your thighs for him to feel and cane easily.

“Count it properly unless you want me to start it from 1 again. Here we go,” You grit your teeth hard as the crook hits your thighs, leaving a red swollen streak. “Where’s the response?” Another hit jolts you awake, “ONE-!”

“Next,” “TWO-“ “THREE-!” “F-FOUR!” This goes on until you are too pained to number it correctly, choking in tears. Caelus is merciful enough to wait for you to recover before he chides you, “Why are you not paying attention to me? I am teaching you something so important for your well-being and you do not even bother to pay attention?”

You manage to choke out a response that is rather pathetic to be considered as a reason and Caelus can only click his tongue at you as he feels your bloodied thighs, red streaks decorating them while little blood oozes out of the cut, “You were so close to grasping the lesson entirely yet you have to make me recite it for you again?”

You tremble from his words, unsure of whether it is out of fear or anticipation of what he has stored in him to show you. One of the tentacles hooks your leg up by the knee, showing him just how your sex leaks out your excitement, dirtying the altar.

“Not only are you being inattentive, you are practically disgracing the altar for your own desires. Tell me, what did I teach you about not pursuing earthly desires?” The curve of his crook is rubbed against your sex as he questions you, more tentacles start to wrap themself around you with the suckers leaving a trail of blue and purple hues.

If you think he thinks your face is comically adorable then you are right because as for now, you are showing him just how eager you are for him to thrust his cock into you. Lust. You are brimming in lust, unable to contain your arousal as proven by your leaking sex. “Bad sheep.” Caelus clicks his tongue again, caning your calf while relishing in how you choked out a gasp of pain.

It didn’t last long because Caelus has now given you what you want, pulling his cock out for you to see and drool at, hard red aching for attention. He gives it a few pumps before frotting it against your hole, his hand collecting all the leaking fluid from your sex as a lube for him to penetrate you.

“Now witness how I’m about to purify you dear. This is something I never do to anyone but my most lovely sheep.” This is what you have been waiting for, the purification that Caelus has never done to anyone but you. Your eyes rolled backward when you feel his tip entering you, his tentacles and hands keep you in place as you try to wriggle your way deeper into his cock.

“Patience, dear. Tell me, why are you indulging yourself in the idea of lusting over someone?” His gloved hands feel your bum, kneading it like dough before he makes you take his gloves off with your mouth. You diligently bite the leather and try to pull it off from his hand. Caelus chuckles at your attempt before pulling his hand off the glove and making you do the same to his other hand.

His fingers invade your mouth as he pulls your tongue out, his golden eyes gaze into yours in adoration, “God, why must you be so beautiful?” You can smell it, although his hands are clean, there is still a hint of smell of ink and old papers. Just before you can do anything, Caelus slams his cock into you completely, catching you off guard. You try to pull your tongue away from his grasp but fail horribly as he pulls you into a deep kiss instead.

Your moan is muffled by his tongue that is wrapping yours, his hips angled to hit that one spot that makes you curl your toes. You trashed against the tentacles that bind your hands until they let you go, allowing you to dig your fingernails into his toned back, leaving crescent moon shapes that threaten to cut his skin open, drawing blood out of him.

You are in dire need of air but you are also unwilling to break away from the heated kiss, hands keeping him close to you while you greedily taste him. Caelus smirks at the kiss and pinches your nipple, earning a gasp from you that allows him to break free from the kiss. He drags his thumb across the corner of his lip, wiping away the drool that is smeared on his lip.

His hands find their purchase on your hips again, holding you in place while he thrusts himself in and out into you, using you like a fleshlight. You are unsure about what he’s mumbling about but you seem to catch a few of his words.

“Mine to deflower.”

As though he is no longer the wise pastor you look up to, you now feel just how territorial he is with your whole well-being, not only a body used to chase his own pleasure but also a soul to keep him sane, proven by how you feel a pang of serenity in you again despite the idea of being fucked by the altar for God to witness.

“See this, my dear? This is the proof that you belong to me.” Caelus presses his palm on your bulged stomach, proving to you just how enormous his cock is, resting inside you. A yellow sign glows as his hand presses harder on your stomach, making you feel warm.

The tentacles invade your mouth again, unwilling to part from you while starting to spurt some sort of liquid into your mouth. Caelus’ pace picks up as well, his thrust deeper and faster while his breath grows raggier. Sweats drip down from his forehead while his tongue wet his lip from the sight of your spent-up face.

He wants you to come all over him and bless the altar with your essence and he will not stop until the deed is done.

ꕤ The Pastor is a gentle soul, his tentacles serve as a makeshift bed for you to rest while the suckers massage your sore muscles. His hand and eyes never leave you, oh how you love those Golden eyes of his with his ruffly black hair.

"Pastor, what if I am not as beautiful as the flower God loves?" You whisper out as he kisses your shoulder blade. Caelus taps his finger on your other shoulder while he hums out an answer, "You go down just like Holy Mary," he pauses to leave another kiss on your forehead, " and not just another Bloody Mary."

You cock your head in confusion, "What is that supposed to mean?" Caelus chuckles as he palms your face, "It means you are beautiful no matter what the circumstances are..." Caelus opens his mouth and bites your lower lip, "Whether you are pristine free of sins, or bathed in blood and wounds."

ꕤ Caelus has always been a man of many identities, nonetheless, he is a man who will always devote himself to you no matter what he identifies himself to be.

If you choose to run away with me, I will tickle you internally. And I see nothing wrong with that

#Caelus the Henchman #CatboX #Yandere x Reader #Yandere x GN reader #Yandere Priest #Yandere Smut #yandere writing #divider: animatedglittergraphics-n-more #Yandere Male #yandere eldritch horror

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crimsonstonetranslations · 3 months ago

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Shinrei Tantei Yakumo Another Files - Prophecy of Silence

Shinrei Tantei Yakumo novel translation

Another Files - Prophecy of Silence

The final day on the month of July— A black body of water surrounded by trees. Underneath the red triangle, sins of the past shall be shed to light. Without repentance, three souls will fall into hell.

“Beautiful—”

Misuzu muttered in awe watching the moon’s reflection on the water surface.

The shining white circle floated across the dark surface of the water. It would be wonderful if she could scoop that moon with her hands and take it home with her.

Plink—

Waves rippled across the surface alongside the sound of something hitting the water, causing the rounded moon to become distorted and ruined. As it turned out, the man standing next to her, Takashi, had thrown a pebble.

“You’re much more beautiful than that sort of moon,” he said whilst turning his head.

Gross.

Misuzu’s hairs stood on end.

Her heart had been captivated by the beauty of that moon, yet now she lost all interest, after something she thought of as beautiful was ridiculed as ‘that sort of moon’. Furthermore, she wasn’t keen on being addressed so familiarly[1] just because they were in the same circle.

Misuzu had purposely sneaked out alone from the party held at the dining hall to enjoy a stroll in the cold night breeze. Why did Takashi have to follow her?

Thinking about it only annoyed her more.

Takashi seemed to be anticipating Misuzu’s response. Even so, the woman had no intention to open her mouth.

That was probably meant to be a pick-up line, but if there existed a woman who would be moved by such disgusting words, Misuzu would like to meet her.

She finally decided to play deaf and turned her heels, intending to make her way back to the inn with the red triangular roof.

Before she had the chance to take a step, Takashi had already reached for her wrist to stop her.

“You know my feelings, right?” said Takashi.

This man must’ve watched too many dramas. That pretentious way of speaking really irritated her.

“I don’t know. Let go,”

Misuzu shook off Takashi’s hand and walked towards the inn.

Takashi seemed to have gotten the hint that Misuzu harboured no such feelings and didn’t go after her, to her relief.

In the next second however, a scream could be heard.

It stopped Misuzu on her tracks.

“H-h-help me—”

Her ears caught Takashi’s terrified voice.

Misuzu sighed in response.

Takashi must’ve wanted to make her turn around by faking being in danger. How pathetic.

“Whatever.”

“Uwaah! S-stop! Don’t come closer!”

“Shut up!”

“Stooop!”

“Cut it out already,” Misuzu turned around in anger.

Eh?

Takashi, who had been standing on the edge of the lake, was nowhere to be seen. Was he hiding behind the trees? Even so, there weren’t any trees large enough to conceal a human body around here.

Just where did he go?

Despite looking all over her surroundings in search of Takashi, she still couldn’t find the man. Not only was his figure out of sight, his presence had seemingly vanished.

Surely Takashi was merely hiding to attract her attention, nothing to be concerned about. Misuzu convinced herself with the fact, and was about to continue walking.

And yet—

Her wrist was caught by someone and she immediately froze on the spot.

A hand much smaller than Takashi’s, with a temperature too cold for the human body.

I shouldn’t look.

She understood the fact, yet somehow, her body went against her will. Her face turned as if pulled by something.

Over there—

Stood a small child. Drenched from head to toe, water dripping all over.

With a ghastly pale face and lips that had turned blue, the child’s mouth curled into a thin smile.

“Hey. Let’s play,”

The child pulled on Misuzu’s arm.

“Nooo!”

Letting out her scream, Misuzu’s consciousness came to a halt—

Translation Notes

[1] Takashi was using the second-person pronoun 「お前」 (omae) to address Misuzu in his previous line. Generally in Japanese conversations, people will refer to the person they’re directly speaking with in third person (such as by name and/or honorifics) instead of second-person pronouns that would sound more direct and potentially come across as rude, especially if you aren’t familiar with the person. お前 is also a masculine pronoun, so it’s more commonly used to address men instead of women. As an offhand comparison, Yakumo uses the second-person pronoun 「君」 (kimi) when speaking to Haruka. For more information, here is one article discussing the nuances of second person pronouns in Japanese.

#shinrei tantei yakumo #psychic detective yakumo #shinrei tantei yakumo translation #psychic detective yakumo translation #saitou yakumo #yakumo saitou #manabu kaminaga

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mr-yuugo · 7 months ago

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Fallen Soul

-Record Of Ragnarok × Fem!Reader-

Summary: You are a god who is recruited to fight for Mankind. A god whose soul had fallen to earth, a human version of themselves was born. Will you be able to help save humanity?

You can read this on Wattpad and AO3! There is currently 17 chapters!

[CHAPTER 1] Contender

Faint footsteps could be heard as you lifted your head. "Lady Y/N, there is someone here who wishes to speak with you," Virgo said as they bowed down. Their short pink hair covered their face as their right hand was placed on their chest.

You hummed in acknowledgment. "Let them in," You spoke as you rested your chin in the palm of your hand. Virgo was quick to stand up straight. Going to the doors of your throne room to open them. Opening them, Virgo moved to the side to let the person walk in. You smiled as you recognized that it was the Valkyrie from earlier.

....

"Well, then. Everyone, it's been 1000 years since the last time we gathered. Let us start the conference shall we?" Zeus said.

"Now, let me ask. In regard to the survival of mankind for the next 1,000 years. Should we forgive them? Or should we just put an end to them?" Zeus asked and two signs appeared beside him. One is a circle and another being an X symbol.

Besides where you sat, you heard someone speak. "Yep! Heeeere!" Shiva, who was sitting next to you was smiling. He was holding up two of the X signs.

"Let's just give them the doomsday already, Alright? From what I've seen these past 1,000 years, mankind doesn't seem to have any intent to repent at all. Trying to guide them is such a pain in the ass." Having said that, he looked over at you and smirked. "Once we erase them all, let's try evolving some other animal!"

Just a few feet away you saw Aphrodite nod her head. "True..." Aphrodite muttered. "It's just as Shiva-sama said, in the last 1000 years the earth has become too ugly." You were certain you could hear the inner disgust in her voice.

"Seas are filled with waste and oil, forests are disappearing and living beings have become extinct one after another. So to speak...Humans are the most dangerous living cancer on earth. A disaster that will bring the earth to its end. Isn't that right?"

At her words, multiple of the other gods present had begun to agree with her. "Aphrodite is right!"

"Mankind is awful and will bring only despair." As even more gods began to speak their minds, Shiva turned to you and spoke. "Tell me, Y/N, you also think we should end them right?" He lazily smiled.

Looking at him, you smiled. Putting a finger up to your lips as if you were shushing him, you chuckled dryly. "Just wait Shiva, I'm sure the humans will not be ones to give up without a fight."

Zeus cleared his throat, gaining the attention of those around him. "I guess we have come to an agreement!" Zeus said, raising his gavel. "Then, the end of mankind is decided-!" Just before he slammed his gavel down, someone interrupted him.

"Please wait for a second!" Near the higher seats, you spotted a Valkyrie standing boldly and another who seemed scared.

"Huh?" Zeus mumbled. "A Valkyrie...? That's a Valkyrie right?" Someone asked. "What's up with her?" Another questioned as murmurs began to rise. "Parden my intrusion Gods, there is one thing I must say." The Valkyrie spoke loudly.

"Sister! Y-you can't s-speak to the Gods like that!" The smaller girl beside her said while trembling as she hurried to shush her sister.

"Mind your business, Brunhilde!" The crows that sit on Odin's shoulders yelled at her. "You imbecile half God! How dare you open your filthy mouth in the conference of the Gods!"

Brunhilde didn't seem fazed by their words. "It is true that mankind is unbelievably vulgar and violent. But to destroy them like that...Isn't that a bit...boring?" She shrugged. "Whether the survival of mankind has any value or not. With the mighty mercy of the Gods, why don't we test them?"

"Test them?! How, do you wish to flood them?!" Huginn asked Brunhilde as he continued to yell. "Or do you think we should send them into an ice age?"

Brundilde turned her head left to right in disagreement. "No, but I have the most effective way to test them.""Oh?" Zeus hummed. "What is it!? Say it now you imbecile!" Huggin yelled as he grew impatient. "Say it now!"

"Gods vs. Mankind's final struggle, Ragnarok!" Brunhilde spoke loudly as she held a book in her hands. "Valhalla constitution, article 62." She said while flipping through a book. "It is explained in paragraph 15 of the super special clause. 1 vs. 1 showdown, between both Gods and Mankind."

"It seems you Valkyrie really don't understand! Mankind vs. Gods? They simply don't stand a chance against us!" Huginn said. "They simply stand no chance!" Both crows yelled out in unison.

At the crow's words, the other gods present began to agree with them. "That's right!" They all yelled out. "It would be child's play!"The gods roared. "I don't even remember such a law."

Brundilde looked displeased, "So the will of the Gods is to destroy mankind and also....to avoid complete conflict?" Brunhilde said, mockery laced in her words. "Heh?!" Huginn glared.

"We want to destroy mankind without fighting them. We don't want to be put in the same ring as them. That's I'll I'm hearing, hmm don't tell me....." She stopped for a second. "You're chickening out?" Her voice echoed. "If so, I'm terribly sorry for interrupting you. Please forgive me. Well anyway go ahead don't listen to me. Let's just forget all about the Ragnarok stuff."

Soon laughter could be heard from all directions, but after that laughter, anger was clearly present. "How dare you!" The Gods yelled out in anger, throwing poisonous words at her. "Do you know what you just did you damn half-breed!"

"Are you making fun of us you bastard!!?"You simply stared at the girl with amazement in your eyes. "How bold!" You gushed as you smiled in her direction.

"Hohoho..." Zeus chuckled. "Ragnarok, quite an interesting proposal. Well said! Though, your proposal it's such a fucking unit! Besides don't you think it's been a long time since we have seen the might of the Gods!!"

"Everyone! What do you think? Should we hold a showdown between God and Mankind!?" He laughed. "Here!" Saying that he slammed his gavel down.

....

"Lady Y/N, thank you for allowing me to speak with you." Brunhilde bowed down in front of you. Motioning over to her to stand up, she soon stood confidently. "It's my pleasure dear, so why are you here?" You chuckled.

Placing a hand near her heart she looked up at you with determination. "I'm here to ask you, will you fight in Ragnarok?" You tilted your head in confusion, a quiet humm leaving your lips. "Hm? But I'm a God, why would you want me to fight against your cause?"

Brunhilde smirked. "You would fight....in your human form. Your soul, fell to earth correct? You were once a human, so according to the rules, you'll be able to participate for mankind. I've seen your skills as a human, I have no doubt you'll win!" Her smirked widened.

"Yes, I suppose that's true..." You mumbled, sighing you continued. "You are a very smart woman Brunhilde! Of course, such a bold request as yours can't be turned down. I accept! I'll be more than happy to battle in Ragnarok."

[CHAPTER 2] Ragnarok Begins!

The first round of Ragnarok had begun. You had decided to stay in your estate and watch the round on your TV. Footsteps could be heard from outside the doors of your room and knocking was heard soon after.

"Come in!" You said loudly. Opening the door you saw Virgo. They quickly rushed up to you and stood beside you. "My lady! The official roster for the candidates who will participate in Ragnarok is out!" They said, handing you an electronic device showing various names.

"It seems that you and young master Ruiru will be participating!" They spoke with enthusiasm. Handing the device back to them you kept watching the TV in front of you.

"It's alright Virgo. I have no need to see it. I would rather be surprised when the contenders come up to fight. I want to see it myself."

Their mouth formed an "o" shape and they looked down in shame. "Ah I see, I apologize then. I'm sorry I spoiled part of it for you..."

Glancing at Virgo you smiled as your eyes met. "No need to apologize, you were only excited to show the news that your very own master was going to show off her skills. I'm very much grateful for that!"

Noticing how their eyes teared up you quickly stood up from your seat. "Uh! D-don't cry! Did I say something weird!?" Freaking out you began to apologize. Virgo sniffled as they stood up straight, their hands behind their back.

"My lady, I'm so happy I'm able to work for you. I promise to do my very best!" Virgo said as they grabbed your hands. You were surprised for a second before smiling at them. "I'm glad," You told them as you gave their hand a firm squeeze.

At that moment you swore some arrow shot through Virgo's heart as their face began to flush. Excusing themselves, Virgo quickly left the room. "Huh-" Looking at the door they left through you just laughed. Sitting back down you continued to watch how Thor had a wonderful smirk on his face as he fought with Lu Bu.

A few minutes passed until you began to process the information Virgo had told you. "Ryubu's name was also on the list. I really do hope we don't end up fighting each other." You sighed. "I wonder how he is, I haven't seen him or Raijin in a very long time. I wish the best for them."

You frowned as you thought about them. "I wonder if they have changed at all..."

......

Focusing on the TV it seemed that the battle had come to an end. "The first battle of Ragnarok, between the God Thor and Lu Bu...has come to a close, with Thor as its victor...! Humanity has taken its first steps into extinction!!" Heimdall announcedStanding up you decided to make your way to the Arena to go see Thor.

"Heaven's door," You called out. A small portal opened up in front of you, passing by it you were immediately at the doors of the arena. Watching a nurse run by you quickly stopped her. "Excuse me but do you know where Thor currently is?"

The nurse looked at you, her eyes quick to widen as she recognized you. "Ah, Lady Y/N! Yes, I do know please follow me I'll lead you to it!" She smiled, her cheeks blushing a faint pink. She quickly walked in the direction of Thor's room. Passing a few halls she stopped at one of the doors.

"Here we are, Lady Y/N! I am very happy to have had the chance to be around you today!" She said as she bowed down to show her respect.

"Oh please you're going to make me blush!" You said as you also bowed down slightly. Standing up straight she told you goodbye as she quickly left in the direction you both came from in a hurry.

Opening the door to his room you saw him sitting on a chair, his eyes focused on the screen in front of him awaiting for the second round to start. Hearing the door open, Thor snapped his eyes over in your direction. "Y/N, have you never learned to knock?" He asked.

"Wow! Ironic you're saying I should knock!" You laughed. You heard him mumble something under his breath. "Excuse me? I don't think I heard you." You asked almost mockingly.

Sighing Thor spoke. "Sorry..." He said looking anywhere but your eyes. It seemed he was still beating himself up about your first meeting.

"That's better! Anyways I'm just here to ask if you're alright."

He hummed as he motioned over to you to get closer with his hands. "Did you really come all this way just to ask me that?"

"Yep!" You said clapping your hands together. "Can't you just use that ability of yours? You could have just seen into the future. You probably already knew the outcome of my match." He said.

You laughed and let out a sigh. "I suppose I could but, I made a promise to myself not to. Knowing what is bound to happen is...no fun!" You admitted as you shrugged. "I haven't seen anything future-related since Brunhilde came to speak with me."

Saying that Thor looked puzzled. "That Valkyrie came to speak with you? Why?" He asked to which you nodded.

"I will be fighting in Ragnarok, for the future of mankind." His eyes widened slightly but quickly regained their cold look.

"Can't say I'm surprised....." Thor muttered. "Y/N, wouldn't that mean you are a traitor to the Gods? What will happen to you if others find out?"

"Well, I guess....I'll just have to kill them before they kill me!" You smirked. "Are you going to try to kill me?" You asked, your eyes lighting up as your smirk widened. He stared at you for a moment before chuckling.

"Why would I kill the only God I have...that is worthy of fighting me." He said as he let out a quiet chuckle. "Though I am confused. If you fighting in Ragnarok, why wasn't your name on the list of contenders?"

"Well...as rules say, it will be a showdown between mankind and god. I simply can't break the rules! I'll be fighting as a human."

"A human?"

"Yes! Once upon a time, Dear old Y/N lost her soul! Her soul fell to earth and found itself within a human child. That child was given a chance to follow their own path, one without assistance from any god." You said as if telling a children's book.

Thor froze as you told him the small story. "When did that happen?" He thought but didn't say anything about it.

"My name given by the love of mankind is Hoshiko Hanae."

"Ah...I see. Hoshiko Hanae, I remember seeing that name on the list of fighters. Though, are you really sure you will win? I fear that you will be far weaker as a human as you are a God." He spoke with genuine concern.

"Just because I will be "weaker" than I am now, does not mean I'll be weaker than my opponent. I trained my ass off from what I remember. I hold no fear of losing, I will win." You smiled. "Oh, and you won't tell anyone about what we just talked about right? I'm kinda hoping everyone finds out when the moment happens."

"Of course, though why did you tell me? You didn't gain anything from it."

"Huh? Well, I don't need to gain anything. I just trust you, talking to you makes me happy. Do I really need a reason?" You said as your smile didn't falter. His mouth opened slightly and having found no words to say he looked down.

A smirk appeared on his face. "Do you maybe want to stay here and watch the next battle?" He asked still staring down. Feeling a presence next to him he looked up and was met by your smile.

"Sure!"

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testyqwcde · 2 months ago

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As I mentioned in my previous posts, I believe that Sauron was truly repentant, and that a series of inevitable events led to the rise of the Dark Lord. In Season 1, it was foreshadowed that Sauron would return, specifically when Theo finds the hilt, and Waldreg tells him the following:

'Do you know what it is? It is no sword. It is a power. Fashioned for our ancestors by his master's own hand. A beautiful servant. He who was lost, but shall return. Have you heard of him, lad? Have you heard of Sauron?'

Reading this line "fashioned for our ancestors by his master's own hand. A beautiful servant", I realize that the sword was likely crafted by Morgoth who infused it with his own dark power. That’s why Waldberg insists it is not just a sword, but a vessel of power. This power is what can awaken the dark strength of the beautiful servant. The below scene is foreshadowing of what will happen: the known sword resembling the one which Theo found and something resembling the Dark Lord helmet.

How was the power of the blade unleashed?

Waldberg performed a dark magic ritual with his blood and 'activated' the blade.

As soon as the power is unleashed, it causes not only the eruption but also it could be searching for another 'vessel' capable of bearing it. Obviously, this vessel turns out to be Sauron, it's master, who was already genuinely on the path of light. The dark power finds him, literally pulling him into the fire and shadow, and he falls back into evil. The bonds that Morgoth had placed upon him were too strong.

Thinking back about Numenor and the Southlands, you can see that Sauron isn’t using any power. I don’t believe he didn’t want to, but rather he simply didn’t have the power at that moment. It’s like he was a messy b*tch in a street brawl, only using his physical strength to beat those poor guys. Remember how furious Sauron was with Celebrimbor? He literally pinned him to the column with his mind. I bet he would’ve done the same to those Numenoreans if he could. And perhaps, he wouldn't steal the crest but manipulated the "main" smith into employing him lol

All in all, he got the power during the eruption. And it’s honestly heartbreaking to watch Sauron (Halbrand) sitting by the riverbank (water), a place symbolizing new life and truth, confessing that he desires to follow the light, to bind it to his very being, rid himself of the dark past and to know that a few hours later he will follow the evil path...again.

So, how did the evil power return to him?

Good question! I hope we will get the answer in the future seasons. However, I couldn't stop thinking why he was found on the road? The road to where? What was he doing there? Or going? Is he pretending here or was the wound truly inflicted by the blade?

*he died, it is no longer Halbrand. It is Sauron*

How is it all important for Galadriel?

Simply because of this scene.

So, if Morgoth's artifact, when combined with blood, triggers the release of power, searching for the vessel, then it could explain why sometimes our Lady of Light transforms into the Dark Queen.

She obviously has her own powers but as @moo1982 has mentioned in the post there is a tempest in her that was probably unleashed.

Gif credit

#haladriel #saurondriel #the rings of power #sauron #galadriel x sauron #halbrand #galadriel #trop #sauron x galadriel #amazon rings of power #haladriel meta

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concretecultist · 11 months ago

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Sacrilege

summary: being the daughter of a Pastor meant your life was the Bible through and through. Noah being the son of the choir director meant that even though he rejected the faith, he still showed up. You’ve known Noah all your life and always tried to get him right with Christ so he wasn’t predisposed to an afterlife of eternal damnation. What you didn’t expect though, was for him to begin chipping away at the walls of the only thing you’ve ever known. Faith.

pairing: PastorsDaughter!Reader x Noah Sebastian

warnings: sacrilege, smut, religious themes, corruption kink, unprotected sex, mentions of cult-like behaviors, "kool-aid" incident mentioned, just please beware reading this if this is not your vibe!!

word count: 4.6k

A/N: this is an 18+ blog so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! This is ALL FICTIONAL!!

You and Noah had known each other since you two could talk. He was always the rebellious one, you were the rule follower, you had to be. Your father was the Pastor of the Concrete Commune of Christ.

Coining its name based off of how "solid" the community’s connection to God was.

But even concrete can crumble.

“Have you changed your ways yet?,” You question him, “I grew up with you, Noah, I really don’t want you to go to hell,”

“Oh, Dove you’re gonna go to hell too,” he smirks, all of this was a joke to him. He has made it clear to everyone in the commune, from a young age, how he feels about religion but they let him stay in hopes that the 28 year old will one day accept Jesus as his Lord and Savior.

“No I’m not,” you shriek, “I’m a follower of God, I live by the book,”

“You live by the book huh?,” he plucks the collar of your shirt, “Deuteronomy 22:11, ‘ye shall not wear cloth combining linen and wool’… your little sweater with the mock collar is a sin,”

“Leviticus 19:28,” you eye his tattoos, any time you two were near each other, it was a banter like this. Noah found it amusing but you were serious. You cared about everyone in the commune, you wanted them to make it to Heaven.

“I’ve made my peace with knowing I won’t make it to those pearly gates,” he gets closer, “If I did it’d probably be to spit in your God’s face and dethrone him,”

“Noah, that’s blasphemous!,” you gasp, “W-what… what is wrong with you?,”

“Your God makes no mistakes right? So he made me this way”

“Satan really has his claws in you,” you give a shaky breath.

“He’s a cool guy,” shrugging as if it were a normal statement, “He’s not as uptight with the rules to brainwash you all like cattle,”

“It’s not brainwash! This is the way. The word of God is the true light,”

“Why do you think he’s called the Shepherd, Dove? Because you’re all sheep. None of you think for yourselves. It won’t be long before your father is feeding you all kool aid and you all commit mass suicide,”

“You’re real nasty you know that?,” How dare you he question your faith. Your faith is all you’ve ever known and as far as you are aware, it's the reason you wake up every day.

“Oh baby you haven’t seen nasty. I can show you though,”

“I cannot commit sin as freely as you,” the disgust written all over your face, “I cannot commit sin with a clear conscience,”

“So repent,” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, “What did your Lord and Savior die for if you don’t sin? You really want him to have died for nothing? Up on that cross with nothing but a sponge of vinegar in his mouth. You really want to be that ungrateful and not appreciate his sacrifice?,”

He gets closer to where he’s whispering in your ear. He’s so haunting, so… unholy, you question how he doesn’t burst into flames when he walks through the doors of the sanctuary.

“I can show you a real baptism. I bet you’d look pretty in all white… wet… as you cleanse your soul of the dirty acts you’ve committed”

“W-we… we should really focus on getting the lesson together, Noah,” you scoot your chair away from him and turn back to your bible, “I think the book of Psalms will be a great place to start. We can teach the others about the protection the Lord gives as long as you believe and do right unto others,”

Noah played your little game. Giving you pointers for the lesson. For someone who rejected faith the way he did, he knew the Bible pretty well, better than you actually, and almost no one in the congregation knows the Bible better than you.

That’s what started your time spent together. Your father was wary of Noah, considering his tattoos and his music taste outside of the church but when he saw the way Noah studied the Bible with you, he figured you were a good influence, he figured that you were following in his footsteps and spreading the gospel.

Except that wasn’t the case.

Noah was planting seeds in the garden that was your mind. He sat beside you every Wednesday night and Sunday morning whispering in your ear. Deconstructing everything your father was speaking at the altar.

He was able to plant seeds of doubt so easily and that shook you. How solid was your faith if you could question it in just a few weeks? Maybe the Devil is trying to get you on his side, but you must stand firm. So you pray more, you sit at the altar more, you sing hymns so that the voice of doubt could be drowned out.

But it was proving to be pointless almost, you’d go home every night and find it hard to read the Bible. Finding it hard to believe in a God that let horrible things happen around the world and to innocent people.

How do you keep faith like that?

That’s how you find yourself in the pulpit of the church.

Looking up at the statue of the figure that you called Lord and Savior for the last twenty something years of your life.

“Lord, if you’re listening I really need you to keep me strong in my stance. If you’re really there why is my faith in you wavering? If you’re really up there… why don’t you help the poor? Why do you keep sister Paula in an unsafe situation with her husband? If you’re really there-,”

“No one is listening, Dove,”

He has a teasing edge to his tone. He’s making fun of you.

“No one is up there answering your prayers,” his voice gets closer until he’s sitting beside you, “You’re alone. You’re praying to a voice in your head. You want to know why he doesn’t help the poor? Because he isn’t real. And if he is… then he’s one selfish fuck. Wanna know why sister Paula stays with her abusive husband? Because your father brainwashes his congregation into believing that divorce is something that immediately sends you to hell. Either that or your God is a sadistic voyeur,”

You feel Noah wipe the tears off your face as you turn to look for him.

“There are no pearly gates… there is no eternal damnation. Everything you were taught was to keep you in line. To keep you docile. But I know you wanna be set free, Dove,”

He sucks the tip of his thumb, humming at the taste of your tears.

“Do you want me to open the cage and set you free? Do you want me to show you the real light?,”

“I will be forsaken,” there’s a tremble in your tone. Your wings have been clipped long enough and yet now that you have the option to fly, a part of you wants to stay caged.

“You’ve already been abandoned, Dove,” his spit covered thumb traces over your lips, “I can give you something to pray to. Something that’s tangible. Something you can see… touch…,”

“I can be your God,” he was so close to your face now, so close that his lips were touching yours, you could smell the sweet mint of his favorite gum, “I can make today your judgment day. I can walk you to the light, Dove,”

“H-how? You’re just a mortal like me,”

“You doubt me but believe in a man that rose on the third day?,” he was smiling as if your words were the world's best comedy. The congregation had its hooks in you deep. But it's okay, he'd remove them with ease.

“Noah. I don’t wanna go to hell,” you cried, it was hard to break free of all you were taught

“With me, heaven is the only place you’ll go. Follow me and I can show you the real way. Follow me and you won’t have to live your life in fear. Follow me… and I will show you how a real God treats his followers,”

Before you can answer, Noah is taking your hand and guiding you to your father’s study, locking the door before letting go of your hand.

“Psalm 90:17, what does it say again?,”

You swallow thickly, you know the verse and for some reason it’s not coming out. It doesn't feel right to spew scriptures anymore.

“You claim to know the Bible front and back and can’t recite one of the easiest scriptures?,”

Why was he being so mean? One minute he seems as though he wants to help but the next he’s asking you questions related to scripture, what is his game?

“I do know it it’s just-,”

“Not important enough to remember,” he leans back on your father’s desk, arms folded, tattooed muscles stretching the sleeves of his tight black tee.

“Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us. Yes, establish the work of our hands" Noah answers for you, sarcasm dressing his tone as he throws his hands up as if he's praising, “what does that scripture mean, Dove?,”

“It means… it’s a plea for the Lord to bless people and their work beyond imagination,” you seemed dazed.

“Every night that’s the last thing I speak before bed after I cum to the thought of you on your knees, praying to me,”

“M-Matthew 7:15, Noah… Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves,”

“And you are but a little lamb,” He pushes himself off the desk to circle you and suddenly… he feels like a hawk circling his prey, “I never came to you in sheep’s clothing… you knew who I was from the beginning,”

He was so close now. Whispering in your ear so close that it sent shivers down your spine.

“I had faith you could change. I prayed for you every night, Noah I wanted you to see the light,”

“I am… the true light. I don’t need you to pray for me… I need you to pray to me,”

“I cannot… Exodus 20: 4-5. There are no other Gods, Noah,”

His dark chuckle made your stomach do flips. How is he okay with laughing in the face of God like this?

“You’re forgetting a vital piece of that scripture, Dove,” his hands are touching you now and you find it embarrassing when his grip has to tighten when your knees buckle.

“I am not-,”

“I hate my people worshiping other Gods,” he answers plainly, “Your God admits there are others amongst him. He’s just a greedy…,”

A kiss to your neck makes you gasp, your mouth feels dry as you choke on your saliva.

“Selfish…,” a little nibble where your neck and shoulder meet, “Unworthy prick who doesn’t deserve a lamb like you. I deserve you. I deserve your praise. I deserve to hear you sing songs about me. I deserve to experience the look on your face when your knees ache from being on them so long when praying,”

His hand is under your skirt now, do you push him away? Do you… do you welcome it? What if this is God testing you to see if you’re a true follower?

Will you follow him?

Or the Devil?

“I deserve to be the flesh and blood you devour every first Sunday,”

His middle finger swipes between your lips and there’s an unfamiliar rush that takes over your body.

“Let me show you the fruit I bear,”

You can feel him smiling against your ear as he speaks directly into it. It feels like he’s speaking to your soul. All this time you’ve been praying and it’s been nothing but silence but now… now here Noah is, speaking his word into your ear and it’s taking over your mind.

That’s all you’ve ever wanted, was a voice in your ear with a sense of direction. Maybe the Lord has forsaken you… maybe it’s time to try a new path of faith?

“Show me the light,” you breathe out.

Those were the words he was waiting for. That’s all he needed to hear before he’s turning you around and gripping the nape of your neck to plant his lips on yours in a searing kiss. It was overwhelming, to feel his lips and his tongue and then his hands roaming your body as he sets you on the desk.

“Can I taste you?,” he asks, “Can I taste the sweet fruit you bear?,”

You don’t know exactly what he means by taste you but with the eyes of a lamb, you nod to him.

“I will be a good disciple. Show me the truth and I will follow you,”

The words coming out like projectile vomit. The haze of the confusion and deteriorating faith creates a cast over your mind.

Noah’s hands are slowly taking off your cotton panties, eyeing the string of slick that follows before it breaks its connection to your underwear and lands on your inner thigh.

“So ripe. So fresh,” he mutters as he lowers himself on his knees, “I just might have to worship you,”

It makes your cheeks heat up. All your life, all you’ve known is worshiping something you can’t see. You were taught to be humble and modest and yet here you are… with a heretic on his knees before you claiming he wants to praise you.

A flip switches.

“Show me,” you plead softly, “I wanna know what it’s like to be praised,”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought his eyes turned completely black for a second, but it’s too late now. You’re already committing sin and like Noah said… don’t let Jesus die for nothing, right?

His lips make a path on your inner thighs before they find that string of slick. You feel his warm tongue flatten against your thigh and suddenly his eyes are in the back of his head and he lets out a moan that was devilish, it came from the core, as if he was parched and it was the first drop of liquid he received after a long, desolate journey.

“I knew you’d taste good,”

You’re watching his every move. You can’t tear your eyes off of him. Especially when his mouth isn’t even an inch away from your core. He stared and stared and you were wondering if something is wrong.

So you try to close your legs but he’s not having that. His big hands spread them even wider than they were before, taking in the view.

“My goodness maybe there is a God,” he smirked as he stared at your wet lips, “Back out now, Dove, because once I start, I will feast as if it’s the last supper,”

“I wanna see the light. Show me the light, No- OH!,”

You’re immediately cut off when he finally touches you. His mouth is so warm, he’s getting you all over his face like a juicy peach in the summer time.

You’re gripping the edge of the desk as if your life depends on it and with what he’s doing, it seems like it does.

He’s suckling on your bundle of nerves, his finger tips are digging into your thighs and it feels so good but all the sounds you’re wanting to make are trapped in your throat.

“N-Noah… N-,” you wheeze

“N-N-Noah,” he pulls back and mocks you. He’s taunting you and it brings a wave of embarrassment so bad that tears flooded into your eyes, “Relax. You’re being a good disciple,”

Your eyes flutter at those words as he dives back in. He’s lapping at you as if you have a prize inside and he wants it.

Then you feel it. He’s sliding a finger in and it takes your breath away.

“There we go,” he whispers against your clit, “Tell me when I’ve hit that spot,”

You have no idea what spot he’s talking about. Not until he’s adding a second finger and reaches deep within you and lightly curls his finger.

“Oh! O-oh m-my… goodness!!,” your legs bend and tremble, toes pointed. You don’t know what that is but it feels immaculate.

“There she goes,” He’s got you now. He now has made a mental map of your core. Knowing what makes you cry out, what makes you mewl like a cat in heat.

His fingers are speeding up and your juices are splashing on the ugly carpet of the church office.

You’re committing sacrilege and you know it’s wrong but why does it feel so… right? so… Heavenly?

Your stomach begins to tighten and you need something better to grip on, so your hand flies to Noah’s head, gripping so tight the moan he gives goes straight to your core and before you know it, your body is convulsing and you’re crying asking the Lord for forgiveness for the sin you’ve just committed.

“You’re forgiven,” Noah answers, “Let’s repent, yeah?,”

He slowly stands up and within the light of the rising moon, his lips are red, swollen and glistening. He’s sucking on the fingers that were just inside you and a part of you feels as though it should make you cringe but instead it causes your heart to race and you want to taste his tongue.

As if he can read your mind, his lips are on yours once more and you can taste yourself. It’s not something you’d taste alone, but tasting it on Noah? That’s something you can get used to.

After he pulls away he pulls you off the desk and brings you around to the other side. On the back of the office door is a mirror and above the door is a cross.

“As much as I’d like you on your knees… I have something else in mind that’s far more exciting,” he pulls you back and takes the swiveling chair so the back is against the desk before helping you on it, situating you on your knees and pulling the neckline of your top down so your breasts spill over.

He toys with your nipples with a shit-eating grin, admiring the way your body responds to him.

“Hebrews 13:4,” you whine. The guilt started to creep back in, maybe you should stop, Noah would understand. With the cross staring right back at you, it all started to become too much, “Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled, for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous,”

“I am the only God here, Dove,”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror and you’re back under his spell.

“What God keeps his people from experiencing something so good, so… freeing that it feels like they’re ascending? I am unclipping your wings, Dove. Won’t you fly with me?,”

You feel him poke at your core, spreading the wetness, coating his tip. He just wanted to slide right in but he knew he had to work you up first. His grip on your breast was tantalizing. His tattooed hand in contrast to your skin was a beautiful sight to see.

He was right.

What God kept his people caged from experiencing beautiful sights like this?

“Start praying,” is all he says before he starts pushing the tip in, “I want to hear what you pray for,”

It was a distraction tactic but he couldn’t get enough of your voice. Especially when you pray for the congregation after Bible study. It always made him hard, he always wanted to bend you over the podium and just hear your delusional prayers.

“I..,”

His hand that’s on your breast is now gripping your cheeks and keeping your head straight to the mirror.

“Don’t get shy now,”

“I call upon God, the Father..,”

He pushes in more and it’s not painful but it is a lot to handle.

“God, the Son a-and God, the Holy Spirit,”

With each word he slowly makes his way inside of you before his pelvis is flush against your ass.

He sighs as if he’s been reborn again.

“Keep going, baby,”

“I… I ask that you watch over us. B-bless us with the gift to see another day. Please continue to guide and protect me,”

“You sound so pretty praying to me,”

“B-but I’m praying to God,” You correct.

“Dove have you learned nothing?,” his chuckle was so dark, “I am your God now. Everything you do. Everything you pray for. You’re saying it to me,”

His hips roll and it causes you tremble in his grip. It’s dizzying. Your vision doubles as he begins a pace to move in and out of you.

“So keep fucking praying,”

There was no room to argue. There was no hint of teasing in his voice.

You didn’t want to anger him. You wanted to make him proud.

You had to be a good disciple, right? Prove to him that you’re worthy.

“God, enlighten my mind with truth. Inflame my heart w-with… with,” a gasp is ripped from your chest as his hips snap into you, he’s so deep. It feels like your nerve endings are on fire and it’s hard to think straight.

You hear the mess being created between your legs and its mouth watering.

“Oh God, please,” your head is thrown back and you turn to look at Noah, “What… why does it feel so good?,”

Noah licked the tears that fell down your cheek. Kissing your waiting lips, picking up his pace and he swallows your cries while you grip his wrists that are caging you in that way you don’t topple over.

“I told you I would baptize you. I told you I would show you the light. I told you I’d show you how a real God treats his followers. You’re being reborn again, Dove,”

Your eyes roll the deeper he gets.

“God, please,” a whimper drips off your lips, you call out into the empty office, “Inflame my heart with l-love… enrich my life with a-service,”

Noah’s hand snaked around to your core to add pressured circles to your clit. He was everywhere.

His breath fanning on your cheek, his hand at your core, his cock deep inside, his eyes boring into your soul. His aura wrapped you up in a warm hug. This is what the presence of God feels like.

The tears flowed. This is the first time in a long time you’ve felt the reward of faith. Maybe Noah was a God… a patient God who waited for you to find your way to him.

He has a follower for as long as you’ll live… and maybe there after.

“Don’t forsake me,” you moan, “I need you. I need something to b-believe in. Don’t f-forsake me. Don’t forsake me!,”

It was a prayer that Noah never expected to spill from your mouth with such conviction.

“A true God doesn’t abandon his people,” Noah’s pace was deadly now. His hips clapping your ass sounded like the church drums during Sunday praise and worship. Your moans were more beautiful than any gospel Noah would help direct during Tuesday night practice.

“I will follow you, I will follow you, My Lord,” you reach behind him to grab at his hair. At this point, your hips were moving back to meet him.

“Thank you!!,” a wanton moan escapes you as he adds an intoxicating amount of pressure to the bundle of nerves between your legs, “Th-thank you for… for you faithfulness a-and presence in my life!,”

Most people loved for dirty talk… but this was incomparable. This couldn’t be topped. The little bird of his dreams was singing her tune for him.

Anyone could get off to dirty talk. But only someone as twisted as Noah could get hot and bothered to the sound of the Pastor’s daughter abandoning her faith to pray to him.

He is God.

Your God has been dethroned.

You’re his now.

“I tr-trust you with this day,” your eyes were so glossy that it actually tugged at Noah’s heart, “And all that it h-holds,”

“Fuck,” it was a mix of a moan and chuckle as he felt his cock twitch, “Say my prayer, Dove. I know you’re close. Say my prayer and you’ll see the light,”

He gave you a few moments to enjoy his thrusts with an empty mind. Mouth hanging open, breath hitching, tears falling and eyes rolling.

The beauty of this moment must have been what Peter felt when he saw Jesus walk on water.

“C’mon, Dove. Say it with me,” he slowed his pace down to pull out his phone. He wouldn’t record the action, but he needed to record the audio. He needed this and you wanted to put on a show, wanted to prove to him that he made the right choice.

“You can do it,”

You don’t know if you can. He’s so deep, his fingers are circling at a pace that’s too fast. His lips felt like they were searing an imprint onto your skin.

“Look at the cross and pray,”

He softly turned your head back to the gold cross above the door, picking up his pace once more.

“Our Father,” he begins, coaxing you to speak the words.

“Who art in H-Heaven,” the tears were spilling too fast for you to keep up, “Hallowed be thy name,”

His deep tone was mumbling under your high pitched mewls, creating a lovely harmony.

“Thy Kingdom come!!,”

He's bent you forward now. Hand under your chin, other still torturing your clit.

“Th-thy will be d-done,” the cross was hazy now, you were losing your wits about you. This was too good. It was shameful and it felt too good.

“Keep going, baby. You’re making your God so proud,”

You clench around him and you’d have thought there was a dark entity around you with the way he growled.

“On E-Earth as it is in Heav… en,” eyes rolling, there’s spit dripping down your chin and onto the expensive leather that the church tithes paid for.

Noah was on the edge. This was so sinful, even for him, but yet he smiled as he took in the view of your face in the mirror. So innocent. So… dumb. You really did have the eyes of a lamb, no wonder it was so easy for the church to brainwash you. You didn’t know any better.

But it’s okay.

He’s here to set you free.

“Give us this day our daily bread,” he groaned along with you, “And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,”

You were almost there. You could see the light. It was coming. This was real. Noah was right.

“And lead us not into t-temptation… b-but deliver us from ev… evil,” you were breathless now. Panting like you were suffering from heat exhaustion.

“For thine is the Kingdom,” Noah interjected, hips not stopping, you could feel your wetness dripping, your stomach was in knots.

“Oh God!,” You trembled beneath him.

“No,” he lightly smacked your cheek, “You can’t step into the light until you’re finished. Be good. You’re almost there. You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?,”

“N-no,” you’re sobbing at this point. You can feel it in your guts. He’s stirring you up like brother Jackson’s gumbo. You were so wet. So fucking warm. The veins of Noah matching perfectly within the ridges of your own walls.

“Then finish. You’re almost there,”

“For thine is the Kingdom,” Noah prompted again.

“And the p… the power and the.. the glory forever a-and ever,”

Noah rolled his hips a certain way and pressed harder on your clit and that was your undoing.

“Amen,” he smiled darkly, it gave him a new life purpose to hear you scream and fall apart in his arms while staring at the cross above the door. His stills as he fills you up.

“Oh God!! Oh God, please, please, please,” you’re sobbing, face fallen against the leather chair.

“I’m right here,” he speaks against your shoulder, slowly pulling out of you, admiring the way his cum spills out of you and falls onto the vintage maroon carpet. He figured he should clean it up but then he opted not to.

He turned the recording off and cleaned you up as best as he could before sitting you flat into the chair and holding your face ever so softly in his hands.

“Breathe,” he had to guide you for the next few minutes.

“Am I dead?,” you ask softly. It was the most intense thing you’ve ever experienced. More than when you caught the Holy Ghost during a sermon.

“No, Dove. You’re very much alive,” he kisses your tear stricken cheeks.

“You’ve just been reborn. Welcome to your new purpose. Your new life,”

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens smut #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian one shot #bad omens imagine #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian fic

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calisources · 1 year ago

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THE ROYAL TREATMENT. all sentences are either taken from fantasy or fictional and historical novels about kings, queens, royal blood and some sparked romance and magic. change all pronouns and names, locations as you see fit.

“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.”

“She was a ray of sunshine, a warm summer rain, a bright fire on a cold winter’s day, and now she could be dead because she had tried to save the man she loved.”

“He was a man known for the violence of his temper as well as the deliciousness of his touch.”

“Am I making you nervous, Natalie?”

“Sad it is, the fate of kings.”

“Go to this masquerade ball with your new friends, put on a pretty gown, and dance the night away.”

“Repentance is like a royal cheer.”

“Even the small joys are worth cherishing, and they will lead to greater ones.”

“when you become king shall find many difficult tasks and you shall have to hurt others and yourself.”

“The throne brings trouble and grief along with the glory.”

“Anger is a feeling afforded only by royal blood. Ordinary people ask for mercy in such situations.”

“True leadership is serving others; follow Queen Elizabeth's noble example.”

“Success isn't wealth or status; impact matters.”

“The power of empowerment can change the world, one person at a time.”

“Leadership is service, not a throne to seize.”

“I have in sincerity pledged myself to your service, as so many of you are pledged to mine.”

“Proper training is key, it allows one to accomplish a great deal."

“Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky."

“Royalty comes with a cost. My great-great-grandfather was one, and he left me no royalty but loyalty to empower people.”

“At all times an empire is more important than emperor and empress, prince and princess.”

“You might have to ask yourself, however right your claim is, if you are the leader the realm needs and wants.”

“You’re Royal. Get used to it and that involves a lot of burdens and things you don’t want to do.”

“I’m in awe of you, Rowan Palotay.”

“Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?”

“Prayer is a royal power.”

“You forget yourself and who you are speaking of.”

“Anyone young, famous and beautiful who dies young is forever frozen in time and fascinating to all of us.”

“Youths are the life blood of any nation.”

“I am not yet come of age, my lord. How can I be queen?”

“To crown her is to kill her.”

“He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.”

“Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.”

“I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.”

“Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.”

“There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.”

“We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.”

“...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.”

“I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man!”

“She was made to be a queen, just like her mother.”

Protect Myrcella with your life. Defend her... and her rights. Set a crown upon her head.“”

“You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.”

“For dogs we kings should have lions, and for cats, tigers. The great benefits a crown.”

“This marriage had resulted from impulse.”

“The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.”

“One does not ask if one likes the Blood Royal. They simply are. It is like asking if one likes the Gods.”

“You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.”

“The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.”

“You seem to think that you can still turn back, but it’s too late. You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.”

“Was it worse, she wondered, to be wanted dead or wanted Queen?”

“My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.”

“Respect shouldn't be hereditary; it must be earned.”

“You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.”

“There is nothing sharper than a well mannered princess’ words.Their true meaning are a mystery.”

“People are born great but yet need to grow into greatness”

“Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.”

“She was their witch queen, and they adored her.”

“To be fair, I don't quite see any difference between an assassin and a knight. They both kill people, only one "in the name of Honour '' and the other is just a "monster"

“Crowns belong to those that serve.”

“I have the softness and meekness of a daughter but I also have the boldness and Braveheart of a Son.”

“Will you visit my chambers tonight?”

“A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.”

“Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.”

“The Princess knew in her heart she is strong, smart, and capable because it is in her blood.”

“There is the matter of succession that has to be settled. You don’t start a reign without settling how it continues.”

“My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?”

“Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.”

“Often blessings and burdens comes hand in hand. The bigger the Crown the heavier the burden”

“If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.”

“Some girls have a frightening killer instinct. Don't let the ball gowns fool you.”

“You don't turn your back on your destiny.”

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt

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bandgie · 9 months ago

Text

Father, Forgive Me | Armageddon Event

Request: Serpent | Choi Yeonjun (TXT) by @biteyoubiteme song!

warnings: MDNI18+, blasphemy, fem!reader, nun!reader, demon!yeonjun, boob play, nipple play, v slight coercion, piv implications

1.1k words

It was the last time. You swore to yourself it was the last time you’d allow a demon in your chambers. Even as Yeonjun taps on your window, his sharp nail making a gentle ding sound on the glass, you ignore him.

You told yourself it was a moment of weakness. You spent years dedicating yourself to the word, to your savior. One night of…sin doesn’t erase what you’ve sacrificed walking a holy life. You need to close your eyes, pray, and repent. A simple three-step task you must complete if you don't want to burn for eternity, but that damn snake. That damned, rotten soul that wants nothing but your pure one.

He’s persistent, you’ll give him that. The constant ring gently echoing throughout your room blurs any prayer in your head. Focusing is impossible. Everything is impossible with those slit pupils and sharp teeth. Each tap makes you remember how he held you. How his lips sucked and licked on the parts of you that you vowed no one else would ever touch. You unraveled on his tongue one too many times that night. He coaxed you through more and more pleasure with his mouth, his fingers, and his god-forsaken co-

You march to the window, ignoring how his beautiful lips twist into a smile like you’re the best thing he’s seen all day.

You will tell him to go away, that he is not welcome in the house of God.

When you unlatch the lock and open the windows, it’s Yeonjun who speaks first. “I must admit, you playing hard to get only entices me more.”

The warmth in your stomach is from anger, not flustering. You manage to collect yourself saying, “There is nothing to entice. You are not supposed to be here.”

Yeonjun fakes confusion, tilting his head to one side and furrowing his eyebrows. “Not here? Then where shall we go? The sanctuary? The hall?” He smiles annoyingly attractive. “Tell me, nun, where do you wish to be defiled?”

Now you flush with heat, recalling the memories you tried to push away. “Hush! It was a mistake! I may have fallen for your tricks and lust, but it won’t happen again. Your presence only brings me misfortune. There’s a reason your kind is hated.”

Yeonjin’s pupils grow thinner. His smile turns dark. Limb by limb, he crawls his way into your room.

You take steps back, tilting your head to gaze at his monstrous height. It should be fear running through your veins, but the close proximity makes your knees weak in every wretched way.

“Isn’t there a saying spoken amongst the church?” He stalks closer. One step of his is 2 steps of yours. Yeonjun backs you up until your back hits the wall and you have no choice but to endure the pooling in your panties. As if he knows, Yeonjun bends down, his neck straining to be eye level. “To hate the sin and not the sinner? If I recall correctly, oh holy nun, you loved me quite thoroughly that night.”

Long, smooth fingers play with your hair. He curls the end around his digit until it threatens to cut off blood circulation.

“It-it was a mistake.”

“Was it?” Yeonjun goes past your cheek to your ear. His teeth bite down, tugging on the skin until you tremble.

“I was tempted.” You’re whispering now. As if you’d break this trance he’s got you in by speaking any louder. He hums against your ear, licking a soft stripe up.

“Were you?” His lips barely touch you as he speaks. “Or did you finally give in to what you always wanted? What you were meant to worship?”

You should shove him off. Find an escape from between his hands and run into the halls, altering the other nuns and priests about what dwells in their sacred home. About what dwelled in your room, underneath your sheets, and inside the deepest parts of you.

But as Yeonjun’s hands find your breasts on top of your sleeping gown, all you can do is contently sigh and puff your chest.

He smiles. You can feel his lips curve against you, that tainted mouth placing kisses along your neck before he finds the top of your chest. You hate how you tilt the side so he can travel down - hate that he giggles when you do.

The gropes and love bites only make you mewl, fisting your hands to the side in an attempt to control yourself. You fear that if you grab onto him, you may never let go.

Yeonjun leans further down to catch a pebbled nipple in his mouth, tugging at the bud through the gown and drooling over the material. A wet patch soon forms from his ministrations. You can’t tell if you’re relieved or frustrated to not feel his tongue on you. That barrier only makes you yearn more - makes those little fists you coiled up unravel and find his hair.

He chuckles with your nipple in his mouth. “You’re fighting it so passionately. It almost makes me feel bad.”

A rough tug on his hair earns a rougher pull on your chest. You whine, cunt throbbing from the painful pleasure you’re growing to hunger for.

“Tell me.” Yeonjun switches to your other boob. His words catch your attention and you make the mistake of looking down. There’s nothing but sin in his slit eyes, a wicked smile on those swollen lips and it all makes you gush in your underwear. “Tell me what you want.”

It feels impossible to speak at all, let alone confess your darkest desires, but Yeonjun’s tongue draws an answer as it circles your peak. He latches his lips around your areola and sucks.

He yanks his head back as he keeps the bud between his lips, making your grip tighten in his black hair and tremble in his hold. “I want…I want you t-”

To stop. To leave. To return to the hell that he crawled out of. Anything but stay. Yet, when his hand trails down to cup your mound. To feel how much you’ve soiled your underwear just from suckling on your tits, you break.

Again.

“I want you.” It’s firmer now, even if your voice shakes from pleasure. “I want you.”

That ungodly smile he gives you should make you regretful. There should be immeasurable amounts of fear upon seeing his pupils thin like he’s found his prey. Yet, it’s an insatiable craving you’re filled with.

His black heart has poisoned yours. His corrupted soul has wrapped your once pure one with a devil’s thread. Forgiveness is far from you. Salvation would never be tasted upon your tongue. And terrifyingly, it’s not redemption you find yourself wishing to consume.

#smut #txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #tomorrow x together #txt #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun #txt yeonjun #yeonjun txt #choi yeonjun #yeonjun smut #txt yeonjun smut

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freyito · 2 years ago

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ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ & ᴋᴇɴꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴀʜᴀꜱʜɪ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴛᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴛᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ

el oh el! so funny story!!! i got cat called today! yaaaaay! ! ! ! ! i'm so absolutely fucking horrified and disgusted and eugh. i've been stalked and ive been followed home and eughhhh. so. i apologize for the heavy undertones of this post but PROJECTING!! this is helping me get over the feeling. i think. i dunno.

cw: ftm reader, afab, catcalling, mention of misgendering, comfort, pre-blind kenshi, not proofread

Johnny Cage

He loves showing you off. He keeps you close in public, like to the point where it's genuinely hard to walk because of it. He's pulled you in by the waist, his hand firm. As if you'll escape from him. But, you won't even try. You like this.

So, when some random asshole across the street calls out to you, something something about your boobs, at first he's like "Awh, lil ol' me?". But holy shit. He is seething.

Johnny takes the attention off of you. And inadvertently threatens the loser. Well... it's more than obvious, actually. He's 6'1, built like a statue, and filled with enough rage to make a rabid dog cower.

He doesn't let go of you, though. And he's surprisingly rational. All he really has to do is stare the man down, make him uncomfortable. Beyond so, actually. He's getting quite erotic with this man.

And when the catcaller finally walks away, he relaxes only slightly. Johnny would beat that man to a pulp if he could, but he'd rather not get arrested, nor would he want the press getting a hold of that.

But now, he's more concerned about you. You went from glued to his hip to shying away, a horrible empty, gut-wrenching, nauseous feeling washing over you.

He doesn't allow you to sulk, he's grabbing your hand and power-walking to the car. That's enough of the public, today. And once you two are safely in the car, he's affirming you. Like, absolutely drowning you in the fact that you are his boy, his boyfriend, his and all his and no other man has a right to treat you that way. To talk to you that way. He doesn't have that right, either. At home, he's got a bath drawn immediately, he's picked out clothes for you, and has ordered your favorite food.

Kenshi Takahashi

He's also about as close as Johnny is to you out in public. But he gives you enough space to walk properly. It's so very clear that you are his.

So, when he heard that sharp whistle, he didn't even have to listen to what the assailant called out. He turns quickly, but he doesn't leave your side. He simply turns.

Kenshi is an ex-gangster, dammit. He could beat this man until he was unrecognizable, he's got all sorts of repentance lined up for the asshole across the street. How many fingers shall he take? Any ink on his skin worth keeping?

But he doesn't move. He doesn't talk. That is enough to make the assailant run off, tail between his legs. And he makes damn sure of it.

Once Kenshi's sure the man is at least a block down, he turns back to you and holds you closely. Almost as if he's hiding you. He doesn't allow you to retreat within yourself, he doesn't even want to think of how you feel.

He walks away quickly, finding a quiet place to calm you down. He's as hands on or off as you want him to be, he understands if suddenly you don't want to be touched.

And he's quick to bring you back to the car, as well. The car ride home is quiet, but he pampers you when you get home. He actually affirms you more than Johnny, he's very insistent and emphasizes every single masculine word, pronoun, everything as he talks. At home, he's already got a little den set up for you, with your favorite books, he'll offer to draw a bath for you, he's ready to cook your favorite food, and has white noise playing from the TV.

#*ੈ✩ freyito #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x male reader #mortal kombat x ftm reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat 1 x male reader #mortal kombat 1 x ftm reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #kenshi takahashi x male reader #kenshi takahashi x ftm reader #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x male reader #johnny cage x ftm reader #mk x reader #mk x male reader #mk x ftm reader #mk1 x reader #mk1 x male reader #mk1 x ftm reader

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1800i-dont-write-fanfiction · 1 month ago

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"breeding kink"

“Patience,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over her small knuckles. “A river carves stone not by force, but persistence. Do not grip it so tightly.”

She blinked once; slowly, earnestly, as though she were memorizing each word by heart.

“The flame is a guest,” he continued, his voice tinged with a smile. “Not a prisoner. Invite it to linger, and it shall remain.”

A soft blue light, unusual in both hue and comportment, flickered from a torch nestled securely in a wall sconce. Its flame wavered, weaving and dancing, producing no smoke nor scent. It was Veilfire, a phenomenon her father might have explained at considerable length, had he not been otherwise occupied.

At the center of the room, amidst the modest chaos of parchment and books, a solitary figure bent over a desk in quiet study. The sound of small footsteps interrupted his silent occupation, though their source remained elusive. Then, a girlish giggle, soft and mischievous, graced the air and arrested his attention. But the culprit, being neither particularly repentant nor desirous of capture, had already taken cover beyond his line of sight.

He paused, as any scholar might in the face of such impish disruption, and cast his gaze about the study before returning to his work. The young intruder would announce herself in due time. She always did.

Another sound, the clearing of a small throat, marked her next move: she had placed a glowing object upon the desk; a small artifact, plainly intended to provoke inquiry. Violet eyes peered up at him, and at last, with solemn resignation, he set down his quill.

“Papae,” she addressed him with a gravity wholly disproportionate to her stature. “A woon.”

“You say it is a rune?” he asked, turning the artifact in his hands so that the light might catch its design. His voice was indulgent, though not without an undercurrent of amusement.

She sighed, a small sound of affectionate exasperation. Her father, for all his age and wisdom, remained woefully vulnerable to error. That he should mispronounce something so elementary was not a cause for alarm, but rather a quiet delight. It afforded her the opportunity to correct him.

“A woon,” she insisted, with all the confidence of youth supported by maternal authority. “Mamae said.”

He inclined his head. “Then I am quite outmatched,” he murmured, his fingers continuing their reverent study of the object. He could not help but smile as she approached his side of the desk, her little hands raised in supplication. He lifted her without effort in a tenderness that betrayed his apparent preoccupation, setting her upon the desk where she perched, self-satisfied. “And where did you discover such an object?”

“Outside,” she shrugged. Her feet swung idly, twisting at the waist to look upon the desk with a proprietary curiosity that made no distinction between what was hers and what was not.

“Outside?” he repeated, steadying her with both hands. “How industrious of you.”

She echoed the word, in-dust-twee-us, thoughtfully, though it was soon forgotten as another object caught her eye. Before she could claim it, however, his hand closed gently around hers.

“Industrious. It means you are clever,” he explained, smiling as she turned his hand over to inspect it.

Clever. She liked the sound of that. An idea formed in her mind, thus furrowing her brow in a serious show of concentration, she stretched out her opposite palm in ceremony. With a decisive exhale, she willed a small flame to life- nothing wild or errant, but a flame nonetheless. It was a small trick, well-practiced and easily conjured, but she performed it with a flourish befitting its intended audience.

The light bathed her features in a curious glow, casting shadows beneath her lashes and along the curve of her cheek. She gazed down at the flame with a pleased smile, not smug but warm, as if the flame were a well-behaved pet returning to her hand. Her father watched silently with a quiet reverence reserved for marvels that never seemed to grow dull. She was too young to know the poignancy of such moments, too occupied with the satisfaction of her performance, to notice the flicker of awe that crossed his face like a shadow chased by the sun.

His expression, already softened, grew tender yet. "Well done," he praised, "It is far more luminous than before."

Her expression reflected an unguarded delight, and her lips parted with breathless anticipation.

“You shape the Fade's energies to your will,” he continued, leaning forward so that the soft light brushed against the sharp line of his jaw. “Do you feel it, there?” He reached out to guide her hand subtly at the wrist, adjusting the angle with such gentleness that it might have been mistaken for hesitation had it not been so purposeful. She nodded, brow furrowing once more in a terribly serious way, as if he had asked her to cradle a star without letting it fall.

“Patience,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over her small knuckles. “A river carves stone not by force, but persistence. Do not grip it so tightly.”

She blinked once; slowly, earnestly, as though she were memorizing each word by heart.

“The flame is a guest,” he continued, his voice tinged with a smile. “Not a prisoner. Invite it to linger, and it shall remain.”

She loosened her fingers with great care. The flame fluttered, flared just once, like breath catching in her throat, before settling into a cleaner shape.

“There,” he breathed, watching her with a tenderness he would never quite permit himself to name, allowing himself a moment to bask in its warmth. Not the warmth of the flame, of course, but the promise of her. For in her, he saw the faintest echo of a world he had long lost, beauty unspoiled by sorrow, and magic unmarred by ambition. He folded her fingers gently inward, extinguishing the flame with the same ease one might close the final page of a book.

“You are becoming quite proficient at this,” he said at last, softly, more to himself than her. The shadow of a faraway memory passed over his features, so quickly that one would miss it unless they were looking. “One day, perhaps, you will teach me.” She beamed at that, bright and assured, and though he said nothing further on the subject, he knew that if such a day ever came, he would welcome it.

"However,” he leaned closer, his tone edged with a gentle admonishment as he deftly retrieved the object concealed behind her back, “very clever girls remember the proper word for things that do not belong to them.” With that, he tickled her.

She shrieked in protest and delight, descending into laughter, “Yours, Papae!” she conceded. He chuckled and pulled her into a protective embrace as his hand came to rest over her back. “Ah, you are correct,” he murmured, his voice low and affectionate. “Very good, da'len.”

“And what do you say when Papae gives you something of his?” he asked, lifting a brow.

“Mine,” she declared at once, with all the assurance possessed only by the very young- or the very foolish. Solas laughed at her boldness, quiet with the warmth of one who recognized he could not refute a truth spoken too plainly to be argued.

“That is correct,” he said, his voice subdued by affection, as he bent to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Yours, as you are mine.”

(yeah yeah this is old but i rewrote it in light of recent and historic events)

#papae solas #solavellan #solas #sollavellan #papasolas #papaesolas #kidfic #post datv

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