#mighty chalice

[irenetherogue]

My early 4/20 gift 💚 I AM IN LOVE I'm calling this piece MAH BABAY #iykyk #mightychaliceglass

[nightmaretherabbit]

😡 Rage - Draw your OC the maddest they’ve ever been for Salvador?? :>

He doesn't really ever get mad. So it's really rare to see him mad.

But there is a few times.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

“if i offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss too?” THIS IS MY FAVOURITE LUCIEN LINE OF ALL TIME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REWRITE IT WITH HIM AND THE READER BCUS WE ALL DESERVE THAT LOOSH SPICE

MINE, TOO! I hope I’ve done this justice and that you enjoy! 🥹

Some young, fun, cocky Lucien to warm us this Wednesday!

Here you go! 💕

Warnings: Just a very light sprinkle of smut 🌶️

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The Moon on a String - (Lucien x Reader request)

Energy was heavy in the air, thick on your skin and tasting like moss and woodsmoke.

You felt beautiful. In your gown that flowed around you, with the flowers pinned in your hair, the curls cascading freely about your shoulders…you could well be the poster girl of Calanmai. A true embodiment of the start of spring.

Excitement rose in you as you travelled, on foot, with your small group of friends from your modest Spring Court village. You could see the lit fires from miles away, hear the sensual thudding of drumbeats that seemed to snake over your skin. You couldn’t wait to drink and dance the night away, to laugh and see familiar faces—

One face in particular. Golden skin framed by bright red hair…

“Lucien won’t be able to take his eyes off you tonight.” Your friend said from beside you, as if she’d read your thoughts. Or glimpsed the blush colouring your cheeks.

You rolled your eyes, slipping your shoes off and sinking your feet into the soft grass. “Lucien and I are just friends.”

“Well.” She smirked. “He’s a mighty good friend, considering the efforts he makes to stop by the village to see you so often. You know — considering he works for the High Lord and has a great many important matters he probably has to attend to.”

It was true, Lucien had built up quite the habit of visiting you at your village, distracting you from your work by chatting with you and making you laugh. And blush. And feel giddy every time you were in his company.

He may have been the sole reason behind the heady anticipation building through your body. That, or the charge of lust snaking through the air.

You and your friends crested the hill, coming face-to-face with the celebrations. The ground vibrated beneath your feet with the force of the drumbeats, and you felt yourself being lulled towards the heart of the festival. People were already dancing, their faces tilted to the skies and their bodies moving in tandem with each other. Moans of pleasure were a lilting song caressing your ears.

Immediately, your small group of friends was dispersing, finding familiar faces or being pulled into dances or heading for the tables of food and drink. You headed to one of those tables yourself, your eyes darting around and, not-so-subtly, searching for a certain redhead.

You grabbed a chalice of faerie wine. You wanted to dance with him, to feel his hands on your body. It had never gone beyond lingering glances and flirtatious comments. You wanted — needed — more. And tonight, the festival, was the perfect occasion to take that step.

But as the first hour pedalled on, the wine soaking into your body, Lucien was nowhere to be found. You tried not to think too deeply into it as you mingled with friends and allowed yourself to be tugged into a couple of dances. Pathetic, to measure your good time on whether or not you saw him — and yet, you’d been so looking forward to it. You couldn’t deny that your enthusiasm dipped a little with every passing minute that held his absence. 

Breaking free from a circle of dancers, you floated over to another table, intending to chase your restlessness away with more wine. It was as you reached for a bottle that a pair of hands enclosed over your eyes, blocking your vision. A familiar, earthy scent invaded your senses, and your body was immediately on alert.

“Evening.” Lucien’s deep, caressing voice reached your ears. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

And just like that, a genuine smile was tugging at your lips. Your limbs relaxed, and you turned in his hold, your body brushing his as you faced him.

“You can’t have been looking that hard.” You jibed. “I’ve been dancing.”

His deep russet eyes immediately drank you in, floating from the gentle curls in your hair, over your pretty face, down over your dress and all the spring-themed adornments you’d accessorised with. He licked his lips, meeting your gaze again. 

“You,” he hummed, “are a vision.”

And he was looking mighty resplendent, too, decked head to toe in tailored Spring Court attire, different shades of greens and browns suiting him perfectly. Your eyes snagged on the brilliant burst of red hair that fell about his face. So, so badly, you wanted to run your fingers through it, find out if it was as silken and soft as it looked.

“You clean up nicely yourself.” You returned. “I’ve been looking for you, too, by the way. I wasn’t sure if…”

Your words trailed off, a light blush heating your cheeks. You’d almost shown your hand; revealed the envious thoughts that had begun to claw at you, of Lucien spending the festival with a female that wasn’t you.

His head tilted, the gesture not unlike a curious fox. “You weren’t sure if what?”

The wine — it was the wine that made you so honest. You calmly replied, “If you’d already found yourself company for the evening.”

And Lucien fucking Vanserra saw it for the jealous, insecure worry that it was. His eyes studied your face, and his lips twitched.

“No, madam, I have not.”

The relief that filled you was shameful, but you didn’t care. You smiled up at him, simply happy that the evening wasn’t a lost cause after all.

“I was actually hoping...” He tucked a curl away from your face. “That you might do me the pleasure of keeping me company tonight.”

Trying to keep your smile from splitting your face, you glanced down. “I’d like that.”

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The two of you danced and drank and laughed until the first sprinkles of daylight began to bleed through the night sky. You didn’t think you’d taken your hands off each other once, even as you’d stopped to refill your glasses and talk to people.

In the blink of an eye, the festival had reached the point of slowing down — the time when people exchanged dancing for kissing and touching, and the music was drowned out by pleasured moans. Lucien took your hand, dragging you past numerous public displays of affection, and though the boldness of it made a thrill shoot through you, you were excited to be alone with Lucien — uninterrupted.

On legs tired and achy from hours of dancing, you climbed a hill a short walk away from the festival. Lucien led you to the top, the grass soft against your bare feet. The peak gave you a perfect view of your surroundings, and Tamlin’s sprawling estate in the distance. 

The two of you laid back in the grass, staring up at the sky that was rapidly lightening. Lucien’s arm brushed yours closely, and you turned your head to find him staring at you, his hair falling around his face. 

“…what?” You breathed a laugh. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Other than the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen? The fullest lips? The—”

“Shut up.” You snorted, swatting him. He quickly grabbed the offending hand and held it to his chest.

“I could spend the rest of this glorious evening waxing poetic about your exquisite features.” He said quietly. “Or I could just show you how wildly I like them. Entirely up to you.”

Your smile slowly softened, nerves and excitement warring in your stomach. “I think I’d prefer it if you showed me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

His warm breath caressed your face, smelling deliciously of berries. You watched as he inched closer to you, his large, warm hand moving up to cup your cheek. Your eyes only fluttered shut when his lips were brushing yours, and you readied yourself for the kiss you’d fantasised about many, many times.

“Y/N?”

The two of you quickly pulled back at the interruption. Glanced up just in time to see the familiar male that was approaching, looking a little breathless.

It took everything in you not to groan in frustration as you painted a mild, pleasant smile on your face at the sight of Peteyr, a male from your village. Your friends had teased you numerous times that the male — a few years younger than you — had taken a shine to you, and spent a lot of time gazing longingly in your direction. He was sweet, harmless enough, and you tried your best to treat him with kindness—

But his timing was awful.

Beside you, Lucien didn’t bother to mask his deep sigh. He slumped back on his elbows, watching as the male reached you.

“Hi, Peteyr.” You sat up. “You look out of breath.”

“I—”

“Hello, Peteyr.” Lucien drawled, a lupine grin on his lips. “New shoes?”

Peteyr seemed stunned that Lucien Vanserra was even acknowledging his existence. He blinked, glancing down at the spotless, polished shoes on his feet. A blush coloured his cheeks. “Yes. I got them for the festival.”

“They’re lovely.” You subtly gave Lucien a warning nudge; one that said, be nice. “Have you had a good time?”

“I have.” His floppy, brown hair moved as he nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve been looking for you — to wish you a happy Calanmai. And to give you this.”

From behind his back, he plucked a gathering of wildflowers, bound tightly together by thick blades of grass. He practically thrusted them at you, the movement causing dandelion fluff to float and land at your feet. 

You blinked, accepting the makeshift…bouquet. “That’s so kind, Peteyr. Thank you.”

If possible, the scarlet blush of his cheeks burned darker. His blue eyes were positively glowing as he dipped his head and stepped back.

“Enjoy the rest of the festival.” He said, nodding to Lucien, also.

“You too, Peteyr.” Lucien’s lips kicked up into a lopsided smirk. “Don’t get those shoes dirty, now.”

The poor male looked like he may collapse if he lingered a second longer at the centre of attention. He quickly turned, beginning his descent back down the hill, but you were pushing to your feet.

“Peteyr?” You called, quickly following after him. The male glanced up.

His eyes widened as you caught up to him and pushed up onto the tips of your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. You pulled back, a smile on your lips, and poor Peteyr looked like he may be knocked straight down that hill with a feather. Or a plume of dandelion fluff.

“Thank you — really.” You said. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

The male — Mother bless him —  just about mustered the ability to turn on his feet and stumble back down the hill. You waited until he’d got to the bottom before turning back to Lucien.

Lucien, who was the picture of pure, arrogant ease, his hands resting behind his head as he watched you with a grin. 

“Nice flowers.” He said. “I think you just made his entire year.”

You scowled, slumping back down beside him. “You didn’t have to be so…you.”

“But you like it when I’m me.”

“Peteyr is a sweetheart. You should be kind to him.” You folded your arms. “And I like my flowers, thank you very much. He earned that kiss.”

Lucien pushed up, amusement dancing in his eyes. “If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?”

“Not sure. I’m contemplating pushing you down this hill.”

His lips puckered in a jesting pout as brought his face closer to yours. “I’m sorry. I’m just jealous because Peteyr brought you flowers and I didn’t.”

“And he had new shoes. You need to step up your game, Vanserra.”

Lucien snorted as you laid back on the grass, your eyes returning to the sky. But he remained hovering over you, the ends of his hair tickling your face. 

You cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you keep staring at me like that?”

“Because you’re beautiful.” He leaned down, his nose nudging your cheek. “And I think about you a thousand times a day.”

“Only a thousand? I bet Peteyr thinks about me—”

“Shh.” He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. His hand gently pressed against your mouth. “No more talk about Peteyr. I need to get that name off your lips.”

You stared up at him, going still. This was how your relationship had always been, and the two of you were damn good at it — joking and teasing, not being serious.

But Lucien’s eyes were utterly serious as he gazed into yours. His hand moved from your mouth, inching up to your hair. To one of the flowers you’d pinned within the strands.

He plucked it out gently, brushing it over your cheek. Your lips. All you could do was watch. 

“It’s not the moon on a string. Not a bouquet of weeds.” He tucked the flower behind your ear. “But it’s a pretty flower. Like you.”

You thought his words may have melted you into the grass. You were nothing but weightless elation as you threaded your fingers through his hair, resting your hand on the back of his head. Lo and behold, the strands were as soft as they looked. Softer, even.

“So?” Lucien murmured, his lips brushing yours. “Have I earned myself a kiss?”

“A kiss.” You breathed. “And whatever else you want.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, before he finally closed the gap, sliding his lips over yours. That berry taste filled your mouth as he slid his tongue in, and his hand moved down to rest on your hip. 

It was everything you’d imagined and more. You became breathless, floating, your mind emptying of all thoughts as your bodies moved together. Items of clothing were torn off and discarded, and it wasn’t long before you and Lucien were skin-to-skin in the grass.

The first slide of him entering you had you throwing your head back on a gasp, and you thought you may cease to exist then and there. Every thrust was like poetry in your body, your veins, and it overwhelmed you until you were nothing but raw, splintering pleasure with spring daylight shining on your skin. 

That daylight seemed to enclose the two of you in a glow when Lucien’s control eventually snapped, his movements inside you becoming sloppy. And as he came, breathing your name against your sweat-slick neck, you realised you would never need a bouquet of wildflowers or the moon on a string — or anything else from him. There was nothing he could give you that would ever come close to how he, his existence, his light and his life, made you feel.

So long as you just had him, you’d be happy. And you’d be damn well content to spend every Calanmai in the same way.

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Lucien tag list: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonashes @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling

General tag list: @angrymilfs @lunaralaraspace @maddithefangirl @brekkershadowsinger @wandas-dream @his-sweet-nightmare @kennedy-brooke @chocolatecakelargeshake @daily-dose-of-sass @missaddamsworld @reiincarnatiion @linduzmunna @leeknows-wife @nightcourtwritings @ann-writes-universes @cosmic-whispers @simplefan-638 @lucyysthings @judig92 @shannonsaid @azriels-mate123 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @iangelofmusic @baybay123455 @poisonousgirlie @kuraikei @sweetandsourwrites @clarkie-carmody-blog @myheartsalwayswithyou @lavenderdreams22 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @sadiebluewin @comfortpotato @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @acourtofchaosandmess @marina468 @123345566 @gmey11 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @cloverrover @millsxthrills @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @gamarancianne @rachelnicolee

[pursuitseternal]

“Our Blood: Into the Fire:” 🔥 a conclusion, three times hotter than ever🦇🐦‍⬛😈

A!Astarion x Tav (Cordehlia) x Raphael |E | 5.8K

Summary: One good and wicked turn deserves another… a tryst to sate all curiosity and balance all scales to leave no deal unfulfilled.

CW: poly, M/F/M, possessive dominate A!Astarion, submissive devil, voyeuerism, body worship, Cambion form smut, lots of oral sex, degradation, inappropriate use of the vampire mating bond, grab the devil by the horns… and balls.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | original series | Masterlist

Just an extra reward for them, a rejuvenating bath for the Ascendant and his Bride, a visit to the infamous House of Hope.

All three mighty beings reclined in the waters, bubbles in the water hiding most of their bodies, cups of wine in their hands.

“Even without the Crown of Karsus, you’ve come so far, devil,” Astarion gave a lazy half-smile as he lounged in the relative comforts of Raphael’s bath. Legs stretched languorously in front of him, he reclined in the magical waters of the House of Hope, at ease with Cordehlia seated on his lap. “Nothing like the hospitality of the hells under your care. I find my needs most thoroughly met.”

“I am but a humble purveyor of needs,” Raphael grinned from the top of his bright, golden chalice, his own posture one of flawless pleasure and relaxation as he lounged in the waters across from the pair of undead. “Wine, food, a bath, a rest…. It is the least I may afford you by way of hospitality for your efforts on my behalf today. I won't forget how gloriously you’ve returned the favor, my vamplings.”

Astarion hissed as Cordehlia sucked a bit too hard from her bite in his neck. “Easy, darling,” he admonished before taking a drink from his own bejeweled cup.

“Your pugnacious consort deserves every drop. She put up such a spectacular display of brutality, Astarion, it’s good to let her rejuvenate,” Raphael chuckled as he watched them. “I’m so grateful, I’d offer my own neck, if it would burn the pretty little tongue from her mouth.”

Astarion scoffed, sipping from his cup as he opened his mind to his love. “Sounds like the kind of shit Cazador used to have us go through…”

“Astarion… Play nice with yourself,” Cordehlia hummed back as she licked his wound gently. “Because of Raphael, because of his timely aid in the Rite, you can start living again… with me and forever.”

“I know,” he replied, a wave of adoration swelling from him to flood her heart. He tried not to think about just how close to losing her he had come. All because of that fucker. “Death was too good for Cazador. I still should have saved Cazador’s skull and made it into a piss pot…”

Cordhelia bit his neck anew, a laugh in her mind as he hissed and almost spilled his drink into the rejuvenation bath. “Don’t make a scene, or Raphael will think you’re not enjoying his favors.”

It was a warning and an observation all in one.

“I’m fairly certain he’s thinking up a nice long list of more favors to ask of us now that he rules Avernus.”

Crodehlia kept lazily feeding as they communed, “We are mighty allies to keep, the Ascendant and the Bone Picker.”

“I thought you hated that name?” He scoffed, annoyed and high-pitched in tone.

“I decidedly hate it less when Raphael uses it,” she admitted, running her hand gently over Astarion’s bare chest. “But it still pales compared to all your little monikers for me… darling.”

“I wasn’t worried… darling,” he stressed his pet name for her, emphasizing it with a squeeze of his hand around her breast. “But you do know that there’s one favor he’s silently asking…”

“What?”

Astarion gave her a look that spoke to his centuries that had jaded him. “I’ve seen that look a thousand times from… my past. But this time, I’m not the main course of his desire. He desires us… you especially,” the grip on her sensitive flesh grew more demanding, making her mouth break from his neck with a moan.

“If that bothers you…” Cordehlia started to bristle, and Astarion pulled her from those possessive, violent tendencies with a brush of his thumb over her pink, peaked nipple.

“Don’t fret, darling. I find myself surprisingly unbothered, now that I’m free to follow my own desires. Besides,” he paused to raise her bloodied mouth to his for a kiss, “I rather like flaunting what is so obviously… mine.”

The way he growled that last word into her mind made her back arch and her thighs shake. No touch required to bring her so near the crest of her pleasure.

“I’m more than happy to flaunt what I have, to dangle it before his greedy little devil eyes and have him watch you reduced to a mess in my hands,” Astarion’s voice rumbled in her head as his lips brushed hers.

Her teeth sucked his lip in between her own deadly fangs as she nibbled it. “A mess, you say?”

Astarion groaned, just loud enough for her ears… well maybe louder. “If he’s a good little imp, you could even let him have a taste, if you wish. But…” his fingers slipped so quickly into her, the waters of the bath barely parting in a wake as he moved. Thumbing her clit, fingers curling just as she liked it, he worked her damp folds, another groan sounding from his lips. “This is mine, and he will never know its ecstasy.”

Cordehlia lost all control, too pent up and hot blooded from the day. Only one thing could satisfy. Her lips devoured his, her thighs spread so that, even beneath the bubbling waters in the House of Hope, there was little doubt as to their actions.

A deep voice cleared its throat from across the waters. “Enjoy your indulgence. You’ve earned it, vamplings,” Raphael laughed as he emerged from the bath. Water flowed in steaming rivulets down his red-dusky skin, his toned and sculpted ass hiding most of his signs of arousal. A towel quickly wrapped around him, he moved inward towards his bed within the boudoir, where Haarlep’s fluttering wings twitched audibly.

“You know, devil,” Astarion crooned over his beloved’s shoulder. “You could stay here and sleep with that sad, sorry excuse of your own imitation, or…”

The Ascendant’s brow arched, just as Cordhelia let out a moan so desirous, the devil’s cock visibly twitched beneath his towel.

“If I’m right, and I always am about these sorts of things, devil… you want to cash in on one last favour?”

Something at the corners of his human brown eyes hardened, a flicker of desire fanning brightly in his gaze. Raphael smiled. “I must admit, it is something I have… long desired.” He gestured towards that inner room, that scarlet, opulent bed lying in the distance. “Shall we?”

“Ah, ah, devil,” Astarion tutted his tongue. His hand pulled Cordhelia’s head back, fingers tugging her fiery locks to display the look of bliss on her pale face as his finger still worked beneath the surface. “My precious prize is only savoured in my house… under my purview.”

“Is that so?” Raphael purred, shifting stance.

“From one master of the house to another, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t insist on the same…” Astarion ceased his talking, claiming her mouth with possessive ferocity, muffling her cry of pleasure with his tongue as she came.

Raphael’s skin barely rippled, his control, so precious and measured at all times, slipped away at the sight and sound of their play. He took a deep breath, steam fairly blowing from his nostrils. His deep voice bubbled with a chuckle. “Very well.” With a nod of his head and a snap of his fingers, he flew them from plane to plane, leaving only smoke in their wake.

Blues and golds, warm enchanting sunlight broke through the haze of smoke. The creaking floors of their bedroom under their feet.

Home, the Palace. With a guest in tow.

Astarion glanced around his chambers, the fading light of the sun bathing them in warmth and heat. He drew up to the flames that danced in the grate as light caressed those ridges and valleys of his chest, warming the whorls of his scars on his back. How convenient, he laughed inwardly, that they all apparated here, completely nude.

“Sit devil,” he ordered, waving his arm towards the chair by the fire. A bottle and chalices on the mantle glinted brightly in the beams of sunset. “A drink, devil?” Astarion crooned, holding up the bottle. “To our alliance, our victory…”

“To our deeper need for one another?” Raphael’s dark eyes narrowed, a leer on his lips and he closed in on them both. One hand reached for the silver chalice offered, while the other began to wind through the errant tendrils of Cordhelia’s fiery red hair.

Astarion’s dexterous fingers quickly batted the devil away, a silent snarl on his face. “I’ll be clear with you, Raphael, in this game, I make the rules. What’s mine is mine… and if you are worthy enough, you might just get your own chance to play by my rules.” A flicker of power in his crimson eyes, and Astarion released Raphael’s hand. “Are we in accord?”

Raphael eased himself into the chair by the fire, his bare chest still beaded with bath water. Conflict flickered in his brown eyes, the fires of his devilish nature flamed brightly, defying the mere notion of subjugating himself to a mere undead Vampire Lord. But that part of his nature that was human, that slice of him purred at the chance to be told what to do, to be given a chance to earn favors from the one female that had fascinated him for centuries. It was too good a chance for his human nature to ignore, to please his Bone Picker and her mate. “You have my word,” he crooned, holding his hands in the air in supplication. “Not a touch, or taste, or thrust without your permission, oh mighty Ascendant.”

Fangs glinted in crepuscular light as Astarion smirked. “Good boy,” he praised in those honey-dripping tones. Fingers wrapped around Cordhelia’s wrist, pulling her out of the devil’s reach. “Now, my angel, my Raven, my love,” he purred, tilting her face up into his, two fingers pressed beneath her chin, “shall we show the devil what he desires?”

Cordehlia’s voice hummed in approval, deep in her chest, her lips pursing to kiss her beloved. Fingers wound into her hair, those familiar nails scoring into her scalp as he angled her head just so. Her skin burned with the devil’s gaze, his lips drank from his cup, his eyes drinking the way her beloved’s hand gripped into the curve of her ass.

Astarion’s nails dug into the supple flesh, biting into the skin to draw angry red lines in her pale canvas of flesh. Marks that he made. Marks of possession. She didn’t need to tap into their bond to know; he was too deep into his desires for her.

His teeth and fangs bit into her bottom lip, drawing blood with a soft snap of flesh, another on her neck. Lower and lower he bit down her right shoulder, bites not for feeding. Bites to brand her.

There was blood in the air now, and every monster and predator would want a bite. Astarion couldn’t help himself, running that wide pad of his tongue up her neck. He knew Raphael watched, he could hear the slightly slick beat of his own infernal hand on his outwardly mortal cock.

A smirk on his bloodied lips, and the Ascendant turned his love around in his arms, caging her against his chest. One strong arm reached from behind to grip her chin, the other splayed wide over the rapid rise and fall of her belly. Strands of her red hair clung to her sweat-sheened cheeks and neck, and blood ran in trickles from his bites.

“Isn’t she divine? My elven lady, my vampiric bride…” He shifted her to one side, tilting her by her chin to smile down into her face. “You know, devil, I was the first to taste her precious delights centuries ago, and I’ll be the last to consume her when the world falls down. She is more invaluable to me than all the treasures you have amassed in your House of Hope.”

Cordhelia breathed, closing the distance between their lips, letting the wet sound of their mouths kissing resonate in their room.

“This is no mere trifle we offer you, so pay attention, and play nice,” Astarion chuckled, deep in his chest as he locked eyes with Raphael. “Well, my love, shall we to bed?”

Her crimson eyes glinted as she tilted her head, a little smile tugging the corner of her mouth. Ravishing. Confident. Commanding. “Only if the devil shows us his horns…. All of them.”

Astarion giggled. “Oh you naughty, kinky girl. You want to take the devil by his horns?”

“I should like to touch a Cambion’s… appendage, wing or otherwise,” she smirked. “But as for gripping the horns of his head, that is a privilege I leave to you, my love, my lord.”

On cue, Raphael stood in a burst of ash and fire, his form bubbling with magic. Tanned skin turned scarlet, smooth flesh wrinkled into the near-scaly, bone-ridged texture of his powerful frame. With a few flaps, Raphael flexed his wings, his tail twitching carefully behind him.

“An excellent choice,” Astarion purred his approval, “but do watch the wings. Don’t want you wrecking the furniture, devil.” A lilting laugh on his lips, and brought Cordehlia’s lips to him.

Just the slightest brush of her presence in his mind, and he opened himself up, their bond flooding with mutual sensation. Astarion could feel his own hands in her cool, alabaster skin, he could taste himself on her tongue with all its richness and heat.

Nothing held back. All of it shared between them. “This is going to be fun,” he purred, echoing in their bond.

“Astarion,” she sighed, “I want to taste you first.”

“As you should,” he smirked, casting a sidelong glance at the devil. “Watch carefully,” he instructed with a snap to his tone as he reclined against the pillows. He stared at Raphael a moment, those black and yellow eyes fixed on them as he pumped his cock lazily and shifted his weight

“I intend to, and I intend to do more than watch,” he crooned in reply, velvet tones rougher than usual as his lust grew with every stroke of his clawed hand.

The devil has come undone, Astarion smirked to himself, enjoying the little ways Raphael’s careful, controlled demeanor began to crack… the glaze over his eyes, the bulging of his veins in his arm as it began to work faster.

What’s better than a devil you know? A devil you know will be whimpering by the time they were through, the Ascendant smirked.

Astarion crooked his finger at his love, reaching that hand into her red hair the moment she crawled into range. Its weight settled at the nape of her neck, pressing her simpering and smiling lips to suck him.

Cordehlia grinned around his length, giving that rock hard shaft a few extra loud sucks, a few wet slurps as her own crimson eyes glanced up from the bed. A shiver of arousal, of pride, trembled through their bond.

Those black ringed eyes of gold drank in every move she made, the tips of his forked tongue absentmindedly licking at the corner of his lips. With every beat of his hand on his thick length, his tail twitched, just a little. Raphael clearly enjoyed her… wanted her… burned for her.

“Yes, darling, he’s being such an obedient pup,” Astairon’s fingers pulled the loose stands of her red hair that clung to her chin, pulling back the curtain of her hair to expose the workings of her mouth. “At this rate, he might just earn the right to worship you… if you wish it.”

“Yes,” his voice lacked its sonorous velvet tones. Raphael’s words strained through pointed, gritted teeth. “Anything for my beloved Bone Picker. Just to have those hands that have silenced civilizations barely brush my…”

He grunted, hips thrusting erratically into his own fist. Wet, strained pants sounded from his infernal lips as he shuddered. Voice lost, composure broken, wings falling as his cock twitched and spilled its load.

Thick ropes of cum shot to the floor, the slightest sizzle of heat hissing as it hit the floor.

A low chuckle resounded from above her head, fingers guiding Cordehlia to sit up.

“Oh, how disappointing.” Astarion shifted on the mountains of pillows behind him, a wry smile on his face. “Well, I hear Cambions are quick to go again…. You’re going to clean that up before you go…”

Fingers pulled her chin, her face pulled closer until their lips brushed. “Well, my treasure, how should we punish him for coming before we say, hmm?” His voice rang with pride and power. His crimson eyes were bright with delirious joy at the thrill of commanding every detail.

It made her shiver with delight. Made her body shudder as his hand turned her about and pulled her into his lap, her back resting against his chest.

Kisses peppered the sensitive nerves of her neck. “Look at him, my darling…” he whispered loudly, a sentence meant for her, meant for the devil to overhear. “So pathetic, son of the mighty Mephistopheles coming all over our floor because he just can’t contain himself. Tch,” Astarion’s reverent touch pulled her legs wide, draping them over his own spread long in front of them on the bed. “Centuries roaming the planes, craving untold power, and all it takes to bring the great Raphael low is a few sucks of my beloved’s pristine lips on my cock…”

Cordhelia giggled, for the looks that passed over Raphael’s scarlet face told his own inner conflicts and arousals. He could hide nothing, especially not the way his devilishly ridge cock hardened more the harsher Astarion spoke to him. “Tch,” Cordhelia imitated her love, “how… disappointing.”

“It won’t happen again,” Raphael interrupted, his voice strained even as he swallowed loudly, as if tamping down his pride by doing so.

And Astarion chuckled contemptuously, “Oh, devil, we both know that isn't true. I would bet you all seven-thousand and seven souls from my rite of ascension that my blushing Bride could make you come again with a single word and a well placed kiss.”

“Perhaps,” the devil grinned back, that bright fire behind his yellow eyes as his tail swished impatiently, “if only she would afford me the chance to prove you right or wrong.”

Cordehlia shifted in Astarion’s lap, her lover’s warm, familiar fingers sweeping to part her folds. “Well,” he purred in her ear. “You give the word, and you can be worshiped by the devil himself.” He grinned against her neck, fingers thrusting into her cunt with wet, sloppy sounds. “Doesn’t that sound… divine, heavenly almost.” He laughed loudly and deeply at his own humor.

A sigh from her lips, and she arched back against him. “Make him beg for it, my love,” she hissed, fangs bared in a twisted grin.

Rumbling in her ear, Astarion’s chuckle was deep and delighted. “That’s my merciless darling.” With a satisfied breath, both his hands swept down her thighs, spreading her wide. “I wonder just how quickly the new Archdevil of Avernus will drop to his red, leathery knees for a single lick?”

Two pairs of crimson eyes smiled from the bed, and Raphael’s wings shifted on his back, every muscle in that infernal body wound tight in anticipation. “It takes more than a single offering to bring me low…” his warm, silken voice forced through his pointed teeth. But he couldn’t hide the way his hardened cock twitched again, just at the sight of her wetness, the sounds of her rapid breathing, and at the scent of her sex that permeated the air more Astarion ran his hands up and down her toned thighs.

Astarion sucked his teeth in a show of disappointment, “Where are your manners?” he crooned. “I offer you the most… exclusive of my hospitality, and this is the thanks I get?” His fingers finally dipped into her cunt, teasing her folds apart as he dove his touch deep inside her.

Those black and yellow eyes honed in on the object of his desires, even the veins in his neck seemed to bulge a bit more at the sights and wet sounds.

With a sweep of his thumb on her clit, Astarion drew a wet, pleasured moan from his beloved’s lips. “That’s it, my Raven, let it all out. Make your pretty little noises for him. Show him just how tantalizing you are and maybe he will say please….”

Licking his lips, Raphael drew two steps closer to the edge of the bed.

“Ah, ah,” Astarion chided, withdrawing his hand and snapping her thighs shut. The sudden withdrawal made both of them groan in frustration. But the Ascendant only laughed, petting Cordehlia’s head soothingly. “Please is such a simple word, why can’t you say it? Aren’t you all about control and manners and decorum?” He paused waiting for the devil to cave. “See what you’re doing to her… one little word, and you can put her out of her agony. You just have to beg…”

Infernal eyes narrowed, wings fluttering as he rolled his shoulders. “Please,” he relinquished through gritted teeth and a slightly submissive tilt of his great horned head.

“Ah, there we are,” Astarion crowed in victory, parting those pale, muscled thighs again. “What say you my love, was that a pretty enough of a please?” While he whispered into Cordehlia’s pointed ear, his gaze stared, unwavering from those fiendish eyes.

“Not yet,” she groaned, hips bucking as the Ascendant’s digits thrust into her again. Her own sharp stare pinned him down, her parted lips turning in a wicked smirk. “Kneel for your lady. It’s what’s done when you’re so… inferior.”

Astarion tensed at the humiliating tone, but, as he watched the Cambion’s cock twitch as he sank to his knees, all worry left him.

This was going to be fun.

“How deliciously pathetic, isn’t he my love?” He purred, peppering kisses on her neck slowly. “Or should we make him get lower…”

“Lower,” Cordehlia affirmed with another roll of her hips. “Like a devil-skinned rug for me to walk on…”

Tilting his head back, Raphael sighed, long and deep, as his clawed hand wrapped around his cock to pump once more.

“You like that, devil?” Astarion growled, looking down at the mess of red at their bedside. “You’d want her to step on you, to bend you and break you like she has countless others?”

His hand beat faster on his red, ribbed cock. “Yes,” came his admission.

“My violent vixen, my wife of warfare, my bride of battle…” Astarion’s fingers swirled loudly in her slick. Then, he reached out towards Raphael. “I’ll deign to give you a taste. Savour it, for you’ll only get this once…” Sighing, he watched every movement the Cambion took to crawl to the bed, leaning over to suck his fingers into his red-hot mouth. “Isn’t she… divine?” he purred. “And just think, she mine to sample each and every night.”

Cordehlia breathed, heavy and lust-laden, watching her beloved bringing the ruler of Avernus to his knees. All for her. Only for her.

“My love… you’re so wicked,” she poured her arousal down their bond.

“Aren’t you just obsessed, and here I am, not even trying…” he smirked, pulling his fingers free from his lips with a loud and sudden pop. “You’ll enjoy his forked tongue, my love, if you think him properly submissive for you.”

“Let him approach,” she purred, leaning back against Astarion until she felt his cock press insistently against her ass. The bed buckled under him as the devil finally climbed on, red silk sheets dull and drab compared to the brilliant scarlet of his form. His great wings folded in tightly, tail curling its warm length around her calf as he slotted himself between her thighs.

Fingers closed around one rough and jagged horn, and Astarion jerked the devil’s head up with a snarl. His fangs bared, lips raised, he hissed in Raphael’s face. “Be a good… obedient pup and you might just be lucky enough for more rewards.” With a shove, he released him, “Don’t be surprised if I grab you by the horns when you displease us.”

“Very well,” Raphael nodded, his charming smirk revealing those pointed teeth. Lips pursed, he kissed those toned inner thighs. Warm, supple lips pressed higher, his hands gripping around the backside of her legs to bring her closer… and closer.

“Faster devil, before I lose my patience with you,” Cordehlia rasped down at him, angling her hips and threading her arms around her mate behind her. One hand wove into his silver curls, pulling this cheek against her own, and the other gripped hard into his own leg, clenching into his corded thigh for support. To ground her.

She pushed her presence into his mind, feeling his arousal return. Every nerve in his body trembled in anticipation, every touch on her body passed into his… each lick or bite, he could sense as if it were his own flesh. And that made him place a tender kiss on her flushing cheek. “My precious treasure,” he purred aloud, “mine…”

A cry came from her throat, strangled as her muscles bunched. Heat seared through her loins, that scarlet tongue swiping once up her seam. Another pass of his forked tongue, another muffled groan as Cordhelia buried her face in Astarion’s neck.

“Look at you, precious thing, you can withstand the heat,” he purred. “And the devil can work harder to earn that sweet taste now on his forked tongue.” Astarion allowed one more lick, that heat and pressure intruding deeper this time into her cunt. Grabbing the devil by the horn, he sneered into his face again. “Isn’t she delightful? And here you are lazily licking like she’s so two-penny sweet from a shop.” Shaking that devil's head he snapped his fangs. “Pleasure her, unless you don’t mean it…”

Released, Raphael’s mouth set to work in earnest. Little growls from his throat, he sucked her clit until wet, squelching sounds deafened the noises he made. Fingers slipping inside her channel plied in and out, careful not to scratch with his claws. And that tongue… hot, not warm, passed that searing forked pad up and down. Swirl after swirl of it on her clit sent her writhing and bucking back on her lover’s lap. He devoured her, messy and dripping, sloppily feasting on her essence to savor her taste on the tips of his forked tongue.

Panting as one, every sensation swept through their bond, and Astaion’s brow was growing beaded with sweat. One particularly persistent lick ended with a pinch of her clit between Raphael’s teeth, and two voices cried out at the pained bliss that flooded their bodies.

Raising his head and licking his lips, Raphael chuckled. “Curious use of your mating bond, little vampling. Jealous of your Bride? Or just… supervising my techniques?”

Astarion yanked his horns punishingly hard. Jerking the devil’s head to meet his fiery gaze, Astarion sneered from over her shoulder. “Careful, devil, you’re in my house, under my rules, remember? I’d hate for you to be the reason the Vampire Ascendant your father created suddenly got a taste for… fiendish prey.”

The threatening glint in Astarion’s eye, the way he let his fangs catch the firelight, Cordehlia practically swooned at his ferocity. A primal sort of purr came from her throat as she nuzzled against those twin scars of his neck.

Raphael fought to lower his head back down, but Astarion’s grip only tightened. “Apologize,” he crooned, voice like honey, eyes like flint.

Catching Cordhelia’s hand from her side, Raphael placed a kiss on her pale fingers. “I’m sorry, my precious lady…”

Another rough jerk on his horn, and Raphael grunted in surprise. A face full of fangs and ire, Astarion shook him like a naughty babe. “Not to her,” he snarled, “to me, you ingrate.”

The devil canted his head, relishing this tension with all his infernal heart. “My apologies, my lord,” he crooned in that viciously velvet voice.

“Good,” he released his horn to pat him on the cheek. “Satisfied, darling?” he nuzzled the hollow of Cordhelia’s neck. “Would you like for us to taste a Cambion’s ridged cock?”

The question hissed straight into her ear, her back arching with tingles that raced down her vertebrae. “If you like, my love,” came her reply, a wet moan as she leveled her sly gaze at the worshiping devil between her thighs.

“Good, because all this excitement has me in desperate need to fuck you, my dear. I’m sure you can concentrate on two things at once, can’t you my Raven?”

Gods… she simpered at him, glowing with lust and blazing with hunger. “On your knees, devil,” she sneered, a derisive grin on her lips as the devil rose up and sank obediently on his heels. That girthy cock twitched again… and again… with every move he observed. Her full breasts swayed as she shifted onto her hands, her face glistening with a greedy smile and eyes that gave sneaky little furtive glances at his bobbing cock. The hand that had gripped daggers for centuries as the Bone Picker closed on his shaft, unyielding and commanding.

Just like her.

He was… massive, she smirked as she lowered herself, breasts pressing into his thighs. Nothing she couldn’t handle, she assured herself. But the instant she laved her tongue over his flesh, she flinched at the heat.

Raphael chuckled, that staccato roll of a laugh as he carded his fingers through her red hair. “We Cambions are known to run warm… don’t worry, my lady. You’ll get used to it.”

Cordehlia’s eyes glinted at the challenge, her hand fisting around his balls, taking their weight in her command. Raphael grunted, a challenge in his eyes, and yet, he waited patiently and obediently for her to swipe her tongue up the length of him.

It was a strong sensation, the heat from the devil’s flesh. Even Astarion smacked his lips at the shared feeling in his mouth from their bond. She was a treat, his precious, indulging in the spoils of war… She was his treasure, he preened inwardly, his one finger slinking into her cunt from behind, spreading her slick as he soon teased his cock head against that glistening entrance.

And, just as she started to take the devil into her lips, Astarion thrust home, making her moan and arch until she lifted back up. Every roll of his hips filled her with that ancient familiar friction, that pressure that was just as much a part of her as herself.

As Astarion’s rhythm settled in her cunt, Cordhelia returned her mouth back to the devil’s need. “So patient,” she praised before her mouth took him in as far as she could. Ridges cut over her tongue as she sucked, that heat and salty taste a delicacy she savoured with every bob of her head.

“What’s the matter, devil?” Astarion sneered slyly, his hips snapping with expert precision against her ass. “Sweating already? Don’t tell me my love already has you desperate for release…”

Those heavy horns pulled his head back, his spine bending as Raphael arched into her waiting lips. A cacophony of pleasure, a tidal wave of bliss, Cordehlia shuddered with every thrust inside her, her voice moaning, nearly weeping as she sucked and licked every ridge of that cock before her until she nearly gagged. “He’s close,” she heard Astarion purr into her thoughts, “slow down, my love. Make him suffer.”

Just his fleshy cockhead in her lips, she licked and suckled, feeling it grow thicker and hotter against her tongue. It made her drool, made her lips smack sloppily around that red, ridged cock.

“Yes, my love,” the Ascendant growled, words timed with thrusts deep into her cunt. Red, scaled hands gripping into her hair harder, not daring to force her down but clenching as Raphael erupted inside her waiting mouth. Snarls echoed above her, so rough and consuming, waves of growls with each spurt of his cum down her throat. Hot like boiling water, burning like spice, she swallowed as much of him as she could, her hand working that hard, ribbed shaft until all the devil could do was level his gaze down at them once more.

“Isn’t she a gem, devil? Isn’t she… remarkable?” Astarion praised, licking his own lips and skating his fingers against her scalp. “You’ll never know pleasure like this again,” he groaned, pulling her by her hair, making that flexible, elegant back bend until he could kiss her neck.

Eyes locked together, black and yellow into those glinting crimson ones. Cordehlia was too lost, a thrall to his fucking, cum still dripping down her chin as she panted and smiled. She couldn’t care less about the straining power between two males.

As the Ascendant stared him down, power coiled in his muscles and heat flowed in his veins as he snapped into her with abandon. Every wet and noisy slap signaled his possession, every grunt screamed ‘mine,’ until he spilled into her with a guttural cry. He keeled over on her back, and Cordehlia shook in ecstasy, her own steely and toned sinews quaking in orgasm and relief.

A kiss on her neck, and Astarion pulled her nearly-limp frame in his arms to rest against the pillows. She nuzzled into that familiar dip of his chest, his thumb sweeping over her chin to clean that last stick of cum.

Cordehlia took a deep, satisfied sigh. “Well, Raphael, your offer of worship to your lady was acceptable.”

A laugh from his own slack mouth, a tilt of his head, and Raphael grinned. “Of course. It was, and is, my pleasure to serve,” he purred. Sliding from the bed, he untucked his wings. “Consider all our scales balanced and… satisfied.” That final word was graced with careful enunciation, and Raphael never felt more pleased.

A nod of contentment, Astarion kept his gaze roaming over Cordehlia’s blushing face. “I’m sure you’ll see yourself out, devil,” Astarion sighed, still stroking his fingers over the soft dips and rises of her shoulders and back.

A burst of searing heat and a wave of flame, Raphael vanished from their sight.

Astarion’s lips caressed the shell of her ear, “How do you feel my sweet?” His hands wandered over her every inch. “Properly victorious and thoroughly worshiped?”

Cordehlia lifted her head, the tangled muss of her hair falling to one side as she smiled. “Yes and yes,” she whispered her reply against his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I’m yet… satisfied.”

“Insatiable vixen,” he purred, pulling her familiar weight on top of him, losing himself in her body, heart, and soul. “You consume me more than any fire, more than all Avernus itself.”

And Cordehlia smiled at her love.

Thank you, dear reader, for joining me on this slide quest. Our heroes are Happy and sated…. For now 😈

The main arc of “Our Blood” will have a few more updates as well coming up.

And perhaps, some more of these companion side quests will surface. If you have ideas, compliments, suggestions, I’m more than happy to hear them.

On behalf of @marimosalad and myself, Thank you for loving Cordehlia, our Bone Picker, our Raven ❤️🐦‍⬛

[artiststarme]

A Sleepwalking Surprise

I have no idea what this is. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments.

~*~*~*~

“You walk into the dark cavern to reveal the fire-breathing dragon that’s been charring the King’s soldiers and burning them to crisps. The mighty beast is towering and its scales are seemingly impenetrable. The dragon notices your entrance and spews a fiery and gruesome spray of fire at the Party before any of you have a chance to react. Roll for damage.”

The entire Party grumbled and rolled their dice. They thought they were going to find treasure, not a dragon trying to burn them all to death. Gareth’s half orc ranger and Dustin’s own half elf bard suffered the most damage at the surprise attack. Gareth muttered something about Eddie always targeting his characters and grunted in anger. 

Eddie chuckled mockingly at them from behind his DM screen, “Gwaine and Lorcan suffer fire damage and drop their weapons when the flames lick at their hands. Lorcan, what’s your action?”

Dustin huffed with stress and ran a hand through his exposed curls. “I roll for initiative.”

“Go ‘head and roll,” Eddie told him, taking a sip of his Mountain Dew from his chalice. The bastard looked devious as he eyed him over the lip of the prop. 

Dustin blew on his dice to wish them luck. This roll could make or break the rest of the game for him. “14. Lorcan picks up his lute and attempts to entrance the dragon with music.”

“Alright, Lorcan is able to retrieve his instrument from the ground where it sustained some minor charring but remains playable. The dragon is distracted and does not notice the first few notes of tune…”

Dustin was on the edge of his seat. Was it going to work? Would his move save the Party?

“The dragon released one more bellowing breath of fire at the Party before his eyes glaze- Stevie?”

Dustin’s eyes whipped open. Steve? What the hell was he doing in this story? He followed Eddie’s gaze to see Steve, his best friend and babysitter, standing in the entrance of the trailer’s kitchen. He was standing tensely with his eyes roughly unfocused on Eddie. 

“What the hell is Steve doing here?” Dustin asked his dungeon master. 

“Is he okay?” Lucas asked him in concern. 

But Eddie just waved them off, “he’s fine. He sleepwalks sometimes,” then he turned to Steve. “C’mon Big Boy, let’s get you back to bed.”

He rested a gentle hand on his back and one on his arm then guided Steve back to the bedroom. Meanwhile, the kids were dumbfounded. Why was their babysitter, the one that said he had plans today and couldn’t join the session, in Eddie Munson’s trailer? They didn’t even know they were still friends after the Upside Down!

Jeff, Gareth, and Grant didn’t even blink at Steve’s presence. To be fair though, they’d known Eddie a lot longer than the other boys and he’d done a lot weirder things than mother-henning the reformed King of Hawkins High. 

A few minutes later, Eddie returned to the living room and picked up right where he left off. “The dragon’s eyes glaze over and he becomes transfixed by the music! He can’t focus on anyone other than Lorcan’s pudgy fingers delivering the sweet, sweet tunes. Droggom, what’s your move?”

“Okay, wait a goddamn minute. Are we not going to talk about how you have Steve sleeping in your bed right now?” Mike sputtered. 

Eddie in his part just looked confused. “Where else would he sleep? He’s tired and you’re all sitting on the couch.”

Mike gestured with his hands in frustration and shot a look at Dustin. It was in his hands now to get answers. “Why can’t he sleep at his own house? And since when are you guys friends? We need answers!”

“Oh, we’re friends alright. We’re great friends. Now, focus on the game or I’ll maim you. Where were we?”

~*~*~*~

The game continued for the next several hours without interruption. However, just as they were wrapping up for the session and settling at a tavern, Steve came walking back down the hallway. He was yawning and fiddling with a pair of wire-framed glasses perched on his nose. Dustin couldn’t help but feel even more confused. Since when did Steve wear glasses?

Eddie perked up in his seat immediately upon visage of Steve. His deceitful smirk turned into a genuine smile and he hopped up to meet Steve as soon as he crossed into the living room. 

“Stevie! Are you awake this time?” Eddie wrapped his arms around him in an engulfing embrace. 

“Mhmm, still tired though,” he muttered. Then he took everyone by surprise. Steve pulled away from the hug only to plant a kiss directly on Eddie’s lips before walking into the kitchen. 

Everyone’s jaws dropped. Dustin didn’t know whether to voice his support or yell at them for not telling him anything and the rest of the group seemed to be in the same boat as they stared unmovingly at Eddie. And Eddie just stood still as if he couldn’t believe that had just happened. 

Suddenly, there was a crash in the kitchen and a shouted, “shit!”

Steve rushed back out, now wide awake, and looked at Eddie in horror. “Oh god, fuck, shit! Fuck Eddie, do you think they noticed?”

“Yeah we noticed!” Lucas yelled.

“How the hell do you think we could’ve missed that?!” Dustin cried. Jesus Christ, seeing your two older male friends macking on each other left an impression.

“Why the fuck are you smooching on Eddie?! First my sister and now Eddie too?!” Mike screamed at him in offended outrage.

The poor Corroded Coffin guys just looked so tired. They knew already and Dustin would never forgive them for keeping it a secret from him. 

Eddie looked at Steve, “yeah, I think they noticed.”

Steve just sighed and grabbed his keys. “I have to leave now or I’ll be late for work. See you guys later!”

“And leave me here with these assholes? I think fucking not. I’m coming with you, let’s go,” he told him. Eddie grabbed his wallet and boots as he walked to the door. He shouted to the group over his shoulder, “lock up when you leave!”

The Hellfire club heard the Beemer’s engine rev and then they were alone. Dustin just looked at the other boys in confusion before screaming a loud, “what the fuck?!”

Just a few hours later, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike would corner Steve and Eddie in Family Video. They’d find out that Steve regularly sleeps over at the Munson trailer and that they’d been dating for three months. Dustin would give them his support before immediately slugging Eddie for ‘defiling his older brother’ and getting a wedgie in return. Sigh, good times, good times indeed. 

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[rebel-at-heart713]

Some of my favorite quotes from “Percy Jackson and the Chalice of the Gods.

1. “Look, I didn't want to be a high school senior. I was hoping my dad could write me a note:

Dear Whoever,

Please excuse Percy Jackson from school forever and just give him the diploma.

Thanks, Poseidon”

Already starting off strong I see.

2. “ My second thought was: Why do the gods keep losing their magic items? It was like a job requitement for them:

1) become a god, 2) get a cool magic thing, 3) lose it,

4) ask a demigod to find it. Maybe they just enjoyed doing it, the way cats like knocking things off tables.”

Percy still has his snark I see.

3. “I am a guy of limited talents. If I can't kill it with water, a sword, or sarcasm, I am basically defenseles. I come preloaded with sarcasm. The pen-sword is always in my pocket. Now I had access to water, so I was as prepared as I could ever be.”

See even he knows his sarcasm is a weapon.

4. “A shiver ran across my shoulders. The last thing the world needed was boomers aging backward, like, We enjoyed monopolizing the planet so much the first time, we're going to do it again!”

Too true!!

5. “ "Do I get to say this is a terrible idea, too?" Grover asked.

"Just do your best," Annabeth said. "You're the fastest runner. You're also the only one who speaks Chicken."

"Technically Chicken isn't a distinct language," he said, "though many animal dialects sound just like Chicken…”

"Dude, just yell at them," I suggested "Do you any fowl insults?"

"This is a family amusement center!"

"Where they are trying to kill us for complaining

"Good point," Grover said. "I will insult the chickens” “

This chaotic conversation. Another for the unhinged moments like the Dam scene.

6. “I also didn't want to die, but at least if I got killed down here, Annabeth would feel really bad about pushing me. Then I could tease her about it forever.

Except I'd be dead. Never mind.”

Love that.

7. “—and also how the kite had gotten zapped by lightning (in the middle of a sunny day) as soon as it was airborne. Even back then, before I knew I was a demigod, Zeus had been watching me. Because that's what you do when you're the king of the gods. You spend your valuable time being as petty as possible, frying forbidden kids' kites out of the sky for fun.”

Of course Zeus is a petty bitch.

8. “I remembered learning about some Norse wolf named Garm, but I wasn't the Mighty Thor, so I didn't want to cross that particular Rainbow Bridge. I had enough to worry about on the Greek side.”

The nice little nod to the Magnus Chase series before he knows it’s a thing.

I added these to my notes as I read this when it came out. I wanted to give some time before posting it. I’ll still mark spoilers even though I don’t think these give much away.

[thrashkink-coven]

Excellent ritual with Lord Lucifer this evening. It seems Lord Belial has found his way onto my altar. Stolas, Paimon and Kerberos were also eager to make appearances, I sense that I’ll be working more with them very soon. There aren’t enough words to explain how exciting it is to be entering another phase.

This isn’t much of a ritual report, but I did end up writing down a couple things from my trance with them.

“Throughput this ritual, I saw many things and confronted many demons, mainly my fear of stagnation. I ask myself where it comes from and remind myself that I’m okay.”

“I came upon a river in the shadowy dark, it reflected muted light. In this river was an old canoe of some kind, and a robbed figure, perhaps a skeleton, wearing many gold chains, rings, and jewels. In his boat were riches as well. I climbed in the boat and we ventured down the river into a cave, which resembled the female genitalia. Into the void we went, and soon all was black. We came upon a shore, which was lined with sand and I exited the boat and walked deeper into the darkness. When I looked back to the driver of the boat, I knew this was Paimon.”

“I returned to “the desert” (possibly Venus), and began that long, quiet walk deeper into the Void. When I struck the light of Godhood, which was like a match in my hands, around me ignited a bright circle of fire. The circle creates a sigil. Through the flames I could see Him vaguely, and 6s and 7s.”

“In the darkness I see a hole in the sand emanating pearlescent light. It seems far away, but massive like a crater in the earth. I want to jump inside, when I do, I see the King shielding himself in 6 brilliant wings. He outstretches his arm and beckons me closer. In his eyes I see the holy light of the hidden gnosis.”

“He wore ruby red shoes which glimmered like crystal, we shared rich chocolate cake, he kissed it off my lips and cheeks. He demands that I acquire a chalice for my altar, in which we can share drink together daily.”

“The imagery I saw during our discussion of my goals enabled me to formulate a plan to manifest these dreams. It required the aid of Prince Cerberus, keeper of keys, Lord Bune, of enterprises, Lord Paimon, who I saw as a robed figure rowing a boat in a black void, Lord Belial, of Earth, and my own cunning, swiftness, and devotion. Lord Stolas would be there to accompany Lord Cerberus. Lord Bune would aid Belial.”

We channeled this manifestation with the gracious aid of Prince Cerberus. Together we (with Lucifer) merged our purifying energy to charge the manifestation, erupt from my solar plexus to the centre of my third eye, pushing it into motion, so even now if begins to work. Lord Lucifer wraps over me in wisps of smoke erupting from the circle of fire. I see the eyes of the three headed black dog and a mighty weight blanket my body. Naber’s (Cerberus’) teeth and claws restrain me and we are sensually entertwined. My drops of blood are fire which fuel the object of my eye. Lucifer encourages and watches us work together, shining his light down until fire burns to plasma“

“Cerberus acted as the key into the realm of Lord Belial, who I am not familiar with. Lord Belial was very welcoming, extremely responsive, business like. I see a horned figure surrounded in flames, with wide grin, a satisfied demeanour.”

“A sigil was drawn on two leaves of basil and burned whilst channeling Lord Cerberus and Lord Belial”

I then did a tarot reading with Lords Hermes and Lucifer, and Lord Belial. Hermes acted only as an intermediary. Belial made it very clear that he was ready and determined to get started with the work, and I have no objections to this. He was sure to hammer home that the best time is now. He likes the way we work together and sees us having a “fruitful” relationship. He references fruit and trees many times, saying that he produces trees which bare fruit.”

“I leave this ritual feeling hopeful and determined, excited. I enter this new phase with perfect love and perfect trust. So Blessed Be.”

Immediately after the ritual I see it’s effects taking form. I run to grab a notebook to plan out my week, arrange some study material, and give my offerings to my Lords.

Thank you infinitely to the Light Bringer who is always bringing me closer to my goals even when things seem uncertain. I cherish every moment we spend together and will sing your praises forever more. Hail Lucifer! ✴️ Hail thyself! 🔱

[rorimoon9597]

!Spoilers for Chalice of the Gods!

I read Chalice of the Gods and I gotta say, I loved it so much. There's just so much I want to talk about, so spoilers for those who haven't read it yet, bc I'm about to geek out over how the characters are portrayed.

Firstly, Percy. He's a veteran from TWO different wars, and the only reason why he wants to go to New Rome is because he knows that he'll be safe there, and that he can have a family with Annabeth if they live there. That's all he wants. To be safe with those that he loves, and to live his life to the fullest. New Rome is the best place for that.

He actively says that it's a nice chance of pace when he can just sleep in his room, not having to worry about his mother getting hurt by an asshole in the middle of the night. He likes being able to spend time with his family, to not have to worry about survival. He likes to feel safe.

Which is why I love how he's shown to be so tired of running around, out on quests for the gods. It's only natural for someone to want to get away from something that's the basis of their trauma, but Percy can't get away from it. He knows that.

He's also very disgusted about how Ganymede is treated, that much is clear. He decides, from looking at how Ganymede is treated by the other gods, that he made the right choice in turning down immortality. At the time, it was for a girl who he wasn't even dating yet. In COTG, he sticks to that because he does not want to leave that same girl, but also because he doesn't see immortality as a gift, but rather a curse. He's seen how it affects the gods, who think that they are all so high and mighty. There are exceptions, sure, but you gotta admit that most of the gods are narcissists.

Zeus is the largest narcissist in the entire book. He's the reason why Ganymede is scared of eagles, which are his sacred animal. He doesn't care for how Ganymede feels. He just cares about having eye candy to oogle whenever the fuck he feels like it. I think that the brunch scene, where Percy's hiding on a pastry cart and is subjected to Zeus' story of when he was younger and all alone when his siblings were stuck inside of Kronos' stomach is a very clear sign of that. He's playing it up, trying to get pity points or something, but all he's doing is annoying everyone else.

To be honest, I love how Rick showed the Big Three. We have Zeus, an obvious airhead who is narcissistic, which fits with his whole thing of being the sky god. Poseidon is much calmer than Zeus, not narcissistic like his younger brother. He reflects the nature of the sea - often unpredictable, going from gentle waves that are perfect to swim in to towering waves meant to kill. Poseidon is more fun, more caring, yet still easily angered (I think that the main reason why he was saved from being killed in one of the books is because Poseidon clearly cares about his child, and will go bat-shit crazy if he was murdered). He cares about Percy, even if he can't show it. He always watched over his son, and will continue to do so as Percy breathes.

Hades is probably one of my favorite gods out of the Big Three (I only really hate Zeus though, so that probably explains it) because, like his brothers, he reflects his domain. Sure, he's dark and gloomy, but he's more grounded than his brothers are. He doesn't kidnap pretty mortals like Zeus and he's definitely that guy who gets consent before sleeping with someone (his relationship with Nico and Bianca's mother is too strong to be something born from anything but consent, because she is shown to actually love Hades to some degree. He's not someone who does things like have children with mortal women without their permission.)

Some people say that the book is cringey, that it's not as good as Rick's other books. Those other books are about a kid thrust into war too young, his childhood ripped away from him the moment he's born. This one is about a teenager who is dealing with the after-effects of that, trying to navigate life as normally as possible when it's insanely impossible when he's a demigod. All Percy wants is peace, to live with Annabeth and grow old with her and Grover. That's why Rick wrote it. As an aspiring author myself, I can appreciate the beauty of a story where all the main character wants is to rest from a traumatic life.

Remember that this is my opinion, and that you're all free to have your own. I'd actually love to hear what you guys think of it.

[sugar-coated-prat-dragon]

Title: Merlin compared being kissed by Gwen to being in heaven. 😘💋

Bonus: Uther ironically referred to the glowing blue sphere of light protecting his son as Arthur’s ‘guardian angel’ 😇

Episode: "A Remedy to Cure All Ills”, and “Excalibur” questions and my thoughts.

Questions by @tansyuduri

Tagging: @miyriu @samwinjester

Books used for reference: “Poisoned Chalice”, “The Death of Arthur” and “Lancelot and Guinevere”

Note: I don’t have answers for these specific questions. But I did find more book references to support them.

Episode: A Remedy to Cure All Ills

Question: Edwin (referring to the beetles) 🪲: "These little angels", which is strange because I don’t remember the show ever mentioning angels before?

Angels usually fall under the umbrella of Christian/Jewish/Muslim (and a few others)?

My thoughts 💭 : I think it’s interesting that the term ‘guardian angel’ is actually used in the books and ironically, it’s Uther himself who uses it.

Uther ends up being the one to refer to the glowing ball of light that protected Arthur at the cave of Balor and from the Balorian Spiders as a ‘guardian angel’.

Although to be fair, Uther didn’t know the metaphorical conversation that his son was referring too of ‘someone watching out for him’ was a magical being or he’d have flown off the handle.

'I think there's someone watching over me.. he mused dreamily almost to himself. 'Someone keeping me from harm.'

On the other hand, when Arthur cast his thoughts back on the presence of the blue sphere of light, he considered the debt he viewed himself as owing to his mysterious guardian and what its presence in that moment meant.

Arthur also chose to call his mysterious savior a ‘guardian’ and a ‘guide’, rather than an angel.

Book description: A mysterious, glowing orb floating high above his head. He remembered how it had led him to safety the time he'd encountered Nimueh.

'I think there's someone watching over me...' he mused dreamily almost to himself. 'Someone keeping me from harm.'

Uther got up from his chair and moved round, considering his words.

'Maybe you're right. On your long journey to become king, you'll need a guardian angel.'

Their eyes met, and each broke into a smile.

- Arthur brushed the stonework with his hand, by way of a shrug. 'I don't know,' he said.

The debt he owed to his mysterious guardian was not something he could shake off.

(Source: “Poisoned Chalice” and “The Death of Arthur”)

Question: Morgana (referring to Edwin healing her): "But thank heaven he did."

While the word usually has a connotation of Christianity/Judaism/Islam. It can also possibly have Pagan connections?

My thoughts 💭 : Merlin mentally compared being kissed by Gwen to being in heaven and yet mused that he thought it would be less cluttered there (🫠 🧹🧽 )

Heaven was referenced several times during Merlin’s fight with Nimueh on the Isle of the Blessed. Including, the thunder, lightning and torrents of rain.

Book description:

- Besides, the room he had woken up in looked a lot like Gaius' chambers.

Heaven, he imagined, would be considerably less cluttered and dusty.

He cracked a grin of his own. 'No, I'm a ghost come back to haunt you.'

He was about to laugh, but Gwen sprang forward and pounced on him, stunning him into silence with a kiss. Wow, thought Merlin. Maybe the dust was only an illusion and this really was heaven after all.

- The sky exploded in flashes of lightning, mighty claps of thunder reverberating through the air as though all the gods in heaven were at war.

At Merlin's command, a tumultuous bolt of lightning leaped from the heavens, striking Nimueh's body.

He saw a look of pure terror on her face as the colossal forces poured into her, her arms outstretched in a wild attempt to dissipate the energy. Nimueh's skin began to burn with a fierce incandescence and her lips parted in a silent scream.

- The storm raged with incessant fury in the skies above Camelot.

Mighty cracks of thunder threatened to rip apart the heavens as torrents of rain lashed down on the ramshackle dwellings and deserted streets.

- Arthur looked to the heavens.

It was going to be a long day.

(Source: "Poisoned Chalice", “The Death of Arthur” and “Lancelot and Guinevere” book)

Episode: Excalibur

Question: Uther says, “WHAT IN THE DEVIL'S NAME?” (referring to Black Knight)

Odd turn of phrase given the time period?

My thoughts 💭 : The devil is mentioned once again in “The Poisoned Chalice” book, when it talks about preparation being key and the devil was in the details.

Hell is also briefly referenced as a turn of phrase after Merlin sacrifices his life to save Arthur with the deal with Nimueh and believes he’s going to die.

Book description:

Preparation was key.

The devil was in the detail, so it was said. And just as a story had to be told with feeling, just as a song had to be sung from the heart, so the true power of a spell lay in more than the incantations and material ingredients.

- Suddenly a tumultuous clap of thunder broke his morbid thoughts and he leaped off the bed, his pulse racing, sound of surging blood in his ears.

What the hell was he doing?

This wasn't how he wanted to die, being afraid to live his last moments.

(Source: "Poisoned Chalice" and “The Death of Arthur” book)

[urwendii]

Me: I will not write anymore.

Also me: 🤡

Set during Lara's time amongst the Remnants and before Jacob's identity reveal. Idk, hes tagging along her shenanigans i suppose.

Fandom: RoTB

Pairing: Jacob x Lara

Rating: G

Wordcount: 768

It is funny he thinks while watching Lara hangs one hand from a pole of rusty metal, her body agile like a cat, unheeding of the hold of gravity – That Jacob is the one with the immortal soul and the more-than-natural abilities while feeling overly human in his old skin, filled with flaws and regrets. She is human too, more than him anyway, and even if extraordinary by all standards, her physical abilities seemed to be the one truly Blessed by God.

His heart is in his throat when he watches her run along a narrow beam of rotten wood, jumping meters away and hoisting herself on the ridge from her ice axe alone. And she does this without breaking a sweat, wearing that ancient armour she has found in the Archives that triggers conflicting emotions from deep down his chest.

Jacob is probably one of the oldest beings on earth by now - aside from his former army stalking the old ruins of his Greatest Sin, he has seen miracles and feats deemed impossible turned into reality. To take him by surprise, ask of you to go beyond his millenium of existence, something that a few weeks until now, he would have been unsure to ever experience again.

And yet. And yet, Lara came barrelling into his life as if placed by the Hand of God Itself, dressed of stubbornness and clothed in a thrive - desperation - to survive he is all well acquainted with.

The path she is balancing on right now is as lethal as forgotten siberian trails can be when encased in blue ice but Lara is quick on her feet, and soon enough she has made it to the other side of the large river-made canyon where the ruins of a once mighty Byzantine building stood.

It is both strange in a way and eerily familiar to see how she blends with the surroundings. The weak winter sunlight peering through the cracks of the rocks above them turn her well-worn armour into a gilded silver beacon his eyes track over the roaring river between them.

He feels he should be praying for her safety - and he does, seeing her so certain and defiant of her own fragile mortality; something she has no idea at how precious it feels, only when one has lost its mantle does one truly comprehend the blessing of an ending. Still, Lara jumps and climbs and defeats all obstacles as if it was any other day's menial task, she goes and solves millenia old riddles and puzzles and unlocks mechanisms Jacob has thought their secrets lost to the flow of time and his caged memory.

"Jacob, you've got to see this!"

Her voice breaks through his musings, excitement tilting her accent even sharply. He hides a smile. For all his Faith and history as the Prophet, there is something queerly right in watching her unearthing religious relics and noble heirlooms.

The time of Kitezh has passed long ago, by his own foolish doings. To her, it is a legend, its history a marvel. She walks the ruins with eyes wide in wonder whereas Jacob only sees blood and death and his damnation. He has been idolised by thousands, has lived ostentatiously in clothes of silk, crowned with gold, spreading the words of God, rallying entire cities to his cult. When Kitezh was built he had been King if not in name and had lied and lied and cheated because the Divine Source isn't Divine, but it is Ancient and Knowing and it had ensnared this young greedy man he once had been. And for all his preaching, God forgives him, he had been too weak to end his folly.

There is nothing good in remembering his time amongst those ruins.

Until her that is. Lara waves at him from a miraculously still standing balcony, a golden chalice in the other hand and a smile that would have made entire armies bend the knee in supplication.

"Look at this Jacob. This is from Constantinople! Incredible." She goes on describing more history he has been witness to. Not that he can tell her. The place where his soul should ache and throbs in something that resembles a warning. He thinks of Sofia and Alya and many others lost to time.

He thinks of God and Mercy. He watches Lara bounces her way back amongst sharp rocks scattered amongst treacherous waters, perfect balance, almost a Divine dance. Like a priestess bringing salvation to a sinner, he hopes she can grant him that which he cannot have.

An ending and a respite. Jacob smiles at her, tiny and proud and starts plotting his own downfall.

[skxrbrand]

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐃

Not every story of Khorne is one in which he is glorious or victorious and it is these tales that the daemons of Khorne do not care to recount or record. However, the enemies of the Blood God are all too happy to remind the Blood God and his children that Khorne is not infallible and that his legendary strength is not the solution to every problem. These ignoble tales are as much reminder to rivals as they are to Kharneth himself that other daemons, and indeed other gods, are not to be taken lightly, even if they might be weaker.

Take the trickery of the Changeling, in which the Tzeen Daemon locked Khorne out of his own domicile during a hunt and forced Khorne to visit war on his own domain. And when he at last sat upon his great throne, he found it covered with sticky, smelly nurglings, stolen (or perhaps loaned) from the Fly Lord’s own garden. The Pageant of Pain, as described by the scribes of Slaanesh, detailed a resounding defeat by the Dark Prince, whose rage is the most similar and destructive to Kharneth’s own when roused. Provoked, many blood hosts were lost and disgraced in these skirmishes and it is a victory that Slaanesh and his daemons re-enact periodically in their dramas and plays. The Chalice of War was a gift from Slaanesh, crafted by the Artisan-God’s own claws, and one that Khorne accepted as tribute, but could not allow to stand unmolested nor sit shattered after smiting it with a mighty blow. For a time, the God of War was taken with obsession regarding this Chalice and it was a time when the Pleasure Prince supped greatly, for obsession and excess is one of his foremost portfolios. Only the utter destruction of the chalice, shards and all, released the Blood God at last from this prison of desire. Great Unclean Ones often recount the Rage-Worm Panic: a struggle between Nurgle and Khorne, in which Khorne’s legions played host to fearsome parasites and virulent pathogens specifically designed by the Plaguefather to infect and torment them after the Blood God visited ruin on his beloved garden.

While many of Khorne’s failures are at the hands of Slaanesh and his legions, the greatest and most humbling of them come from the Changer of Ways. Surely still scorned due to the subversions of fates at the beginning of everything, Tzeentch successfully performed one of his most talked about and studied treacheries, though the exact details are obscure, variable, or directly contradictory as a matter of course being as they were recorded by the Tzeen-kin. But common threads speak of an alliance, unusually long running and between the two mightiest, oft-at-odds of the Chaos Gods. One to force the Fly Master and Prince of Excess into association, as well as several minor gods, for the simple sake of survival. However, the salvation of those gods would come from Tzeentch’s own treacherous nature, with the Changer luring the ascendent Blood God into his lands with the pretense of discussing military strategy.

The meeting, and alliance, ended with a catastrophic event deep within the Crystal-Realm of Khorne and the Changer of Ways making off with the shattered fragment of one of the Blood God’s curling horns. Rampaging away from the ambush and back into his own realm across the bridge that connects their two kingdoms, the damage Khorne left in his wake has never truly returned whence it was. Whatever it was before, Daemons now call it the Blasted Wastes.

All these ignoble defeats have been immortalized in song, dance, grimoires, and art if not by the claws of Khornate daemons scratched into brass books. Some of the most priceless, and dangerous to own, of the latter are the brass dioramas, made from stolen and melted Flesh Hound collars and crafted by the Changeling; scenes of stunning defeats that many would kill to own.

[didyoutrydynamite]

Ok now I have to see how Thalestris reacts when she learns of Boldrei’s other shenanigans involving Jaune

Thalestris: *Honing her skills, slashing back against elementals shaped into warrior forms, until she suddenly hears a chime on the wind* My daughter, she prays to me! *Blindly throws her sword into the last elemental's face and it crumbles into rubble and dust. She takes a bronze chalice of wine and sits at a whirlpool's edge that shows a vision of her daughter, Pyrrha Nikos, kneeling in prayer*

Pyrrha: *Hands clasped* Oh, mighty warrior goddess, I come to you with a heart filled with both trepidation and excitement. As your daughter, I have always sought strength and valor in battle, following your teachings with unwavering dedication.

Thalestris: *Smiles fondly and sips from her chalice, thinking to herself* (And you have done me proud, daughter. You've already proven to be one of the most capable warriors of the mortal realm. Any obstacle the Demon Lord sends your way will be crushed, for not even they can deny their fate by your hands)

Pyrrha: But now, a new emotion has awakened within me, and I find myself drawn to a kind adventurer named Jaune Arc.

Thalestris: *Spits out her wine* WHAT?!

Pyrrha: Mother, I seek your guidance and wisdom, for I am unsure how to navigate these uncharted waters of romance. Jaune's spirit is gentle, and his smile brings warmth to even the coldest of battles. Yet, I fear my warrior's heart may lead me astray from the path you have set before me.

Thalestris: *Shakes her head in horror* (Jaune Arc, Boldrei's Pet! That halfwit that she's been whoring out all across the realms to impregnate every living sow is now seducing MY daughter?! He won't just lead her off the path, he'll drag her down and destroy her destiny and the world with it!!)

Pyrrha: In this moment of vulnerability, I turn to you, my goddess mother, knowing that your guidance will light my way through the shadows of doubt. May your divine wisdom help me find the courage to open my heart to the possibility of love while remaining true to the warrior you have molded me to be.

Thalestris: *Crushes her chalice in hand with ease, then her divine fury melting it into molten scrap. Her voice hissed with sulfuric vitriol* Fear not, my beloved daughter, for I am Thalestris, the goddess of wisdom and war. I promise to shield you from the allure of this snake in knight's armor. His honeyed words are are his venom and this feeling in your heart is the poison seeping in. This. Will. Not. Stand.

[thefemdomenchantress]

The Enchantress: Chalice of the Orgy

The evil enchantress laughs as the defeated hero struggles against his chains, his bare body drenched in sweat that glistened against the surrounding flames.

Enchantress: There is no escape! Now I shall drain from you the sacrificial fluid needed to summon the demon!

She drapes herself over his back, her arms reaching around him in an embrace. Her hands wrap around his cock and balls.

The hero's body contorts in unwilling pleasure as she slowly works him toward an intense, uncontrollable orgasm.

Hero: NO! No, please!

Enchantress: It is too late... give in...

He cries in agonizing bliss as he cums into the grand unhallowed chalice. A great cloud of arcane mist expels from within. Standing in the room is a towering muscular man of dark crimson skin and imposing horns.

The enchantress leaves the chained up hero, smiling at the demon. She strips down and walks into his awaiting embrace. Their lips meet, a kiss of two vile and powerful beings. With one hand, however, she continues the hero's torment.

The hero feels a spectral hand continue to torture his cock even as the enchantress is ravished by the summoned being! Soon he is hard once again.

The demon takes the enchantress beneath him, cradling the small of her back as he kisses her, and penetrates her upon his large cock. The hero, meanwhile, tenses and shakes against the torture he is unable to fight against. The enchantress's skilled magic seeps through his skin and flesh, tickling and controlling his cock from the inside as well as the outside, stimulating erotic nerves he did not even know existed...

Soon the enchantress is screaming in ecstasy as the great demon's power and skill bring her to full orgasm, and the hero cums heavily into the chalice. As he does, a second demon of similar build and power is summoned. it joins in the rapturous affair.

Hero: S-stop... Let me go!

Enchantress: Oh hero... It is too late to beg now... Now cum... forever!

The hero's tired struggles continue, fruitless and never successful. He can neither escape nor resist the orgasms, each one creating a new addition to the enchantress's mighty army, and a new participant in her selfish orgy.

*** *** ***

*Three hours later, and thirty horny demons later*

Hero: . . . You don't have any plans to use this army for any purpose other than fucking, do you.

Enchantress: Not at all, no.

[misterah13]

My main fandom characters list (Plus Protagonists)

Yellow Guy

Duck Guy

Red Guy

Micheal Afton

Frisk

Chara

Flowey The Flower

Nicky Roth

The Protagonist (Tattletail)

Baby Talking Tattletail

Henry Stein

Aubrey Drew

Bendy

Alice Angel

Boris The Wolf

Charley

Barley

Edgar

Carley

Six

The Runaway Kid

Mono

The Girl In The Yellow Raincoat

Shadow Six

Nome

Cuphead

Mugman

Ms Chalice

MC

The Player

Mickey Mouse

Spongebob SquarePants

Gary The Snail

Patrick Star

Squidward Tentacles

Eugene H Krabs

Sandy Cheeks

Sheldon J Plankton

Karen Plankton

Gumball Watterson

Darwin Watterson

Anais Watterson

Penny Fitzgerald

Carrie Krueger

Meilin Lee

Miriam Mendelsohn

Priya Mangal

Abby Park

Joy

Sadness

Fear

Disgust

Anger

Anxiety

Envy

Embarrassment

Ennui

Nostalgia

Nyamo

Konata Izumi

Hikage Miyakawa

Hinata Miyakawa

Kagami Hiiragi

Tsukasa Hiiragi

Miyuki Takara

Yutaka Kobayakawa

Minami Iwasaki

Patricia Martin

Hiyori Tamura

Misao Kusakabe

Ayano Minegishi

Skid

Pump

Lila

Jaune

Yuuko Aioi

Mio Naganohara

Mai Minakami

Nano Shinonome

Professor Hakase Shinonome

Sakamoto

Felix The Cat

Sophie Walten

Jenny Letterson

Ice Cream Man

Sergeant Keroro Gunso

Private Second Class Tamama Nitohei

Corporal Giroro Goucho

Sergeant Major Kururu Soucho

Lance Corporal Dororo Heicho

Angol Mois

Carmen Sandiego

Player Bouchard

Zack

Ivy

Suhara

Sonia

Hideo

The Chief

Chase Devineaux

Julia Argent

Agent Zari

A.C.M.E Agent

Four

X

Sarah Henderson

Lily Henderson

Kyle Henderson

Thomas Bentley Artwright

Henry Stickmin

Ellie Rose

Charles Calvin

Red

Classic Sonic The Hedgehog

Classic Miles Tails Prower

Classic Knuckles The Echidna

Classic Amy Rose The Hedgehog

Classic Ray The Flying Squirrel

Classic Mighty The Armadillo

Rayman

Sunny

Kel

Aubrey

Hero

Basil

Mari

Siffrin

Mirabelle

Isabeau

Odile

Bonnie

Pomni

Ragatha

Serial Designation N

Uzi Doorman

Claire

Cuddles

Giggles

Toothy

Lumpy

Petunia

Handy

Nutty

Sniffles

Pop

Cub

Flaky

The Mole

Disco Bear

Russell

Lifty

Shifty

Mime

Cro Marmot

Flippy

Splendid

Lammy

Mr Pickles

Truffles

Raggedy Ann

Raggedy Andy

Babette

Bobby

Penny

Hanazuki

Hemkas

Kiazuki

Kiyoshi

Maroshi

Miyumi

Captain Olimar

The Knight

Rumi

Pancho

Qaru

Nayra

Pacman

Player (Poppy Playtime)

Poppy Playtime

Red Crewmate

Boyfriend

Girlfriend

Pico

Niko

Madeline

Hat Kid

Bow Kid

Kirby

Bandana Waddle Dee

Meta Knight

King Dedede

Rick

Kine

Coo

Marx

Gooey

Nago

ChuChu

Pitch

Adeleine

Ribbon

Queen Ripple

Ripple Star Fairies

Shadow Kirby

Dark Meta Knight

Daroach

Spinni

Doc

Storo

Squeakers

Elfilin

Magolor

Taranza

Sectonia

People Of The Sky

Susie

Francisca

Flamberge

Zan Partizanne

Classic Kirby

[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I always wanted to be part of a cheering squad, I'll yearn for those uniforms my whole life -Danny Words: 2,136 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Time Machine' -by Mia Giovina

IV: Kawabummer

"I have an idea," Grover says. "It's terrible, but it might work."

"I love it already," Percy says sarcastically.

They are currently going through another side quest Iris gave them to obtain more information on the lost chalice. They're supposed to clean her staff in some magical water that of course, it's packed with monsters and super hard to access.

"You guys head for the cliffs. I'll keep watch from here," Grover pulls out his panpipes. "If you make it, great. But if the snakes start heading in your direction, I should be able to see them moving through the grass. Then I'll distract them with my pipes. I know some pretty good snake songs."

"As soon as you start playing, they'll come for you," Annabeth mentions. "Which I guess is the terrible part."

"It'll be even worse than the chickens at Hebe Jeebies," Percy agrees.

"Yeah, I don't love it. But like Annabeth said before, I can run the fastest. Maybe I can buy you some time. If you hear the pipes, know that the clock is ticking, and it would be great for you to hurry. Get Iris's staff washed. I'll meet you back at the exit."

"Wait," Ara steps into the conversation. "I'm not allowed to kill anything here because they're just minding their business, which is fair—but what do I do, then? I could look after Grover?"

"You go with Percy," Grover says promptly.

The girl frowns. "Now I feel like you're trying to get rid of me."

"I'm not! But if Percy upsets another god, you can make them a favor or something so they don't kill him—maybe use charmspeak?"

"Yeah, that could totally happen," Annabeth agrees.

"Hey!" Percy scoffs. "...Yeah, it could."

Ara snorts and pat his shoulder. "Okay, let's go anger another god!

They make their way to the cliff and look down at the pool of clear water beneath them. "You could jump in with the staff," Annabeth suggests.

"Sure. The problem is climbing back up when I'm done." Percy raises a brow. Annabeth draws out a rope from her backpack. "You think of everything," he grumbles with a scowl. "Maybe we should plan this out a little bit first. That's your thing right, planning?"

Grover starts playing the panpipes, and the girls fall to the same conclusion. Ara nods once and Annabeth steps forward.  "Time's up," she pushes Percy off the cliff. "Bon voyage!" 

The girls watch him plummet and sink with a loud splash. "We should probably get closer to the shore," Ara points out casually.

Going to quests with her brother isn't all bad, sometimes gods can be coerced into cooperating. They have settled on an agreement with Elisson, the river god, to let demigods come here and wash their sacred objects—no pun intended—every Saturday. Ara writes it down on the little notepad she carries to mention it during the next meeting. 

After Percy traumatizes another minor god, they save Grover from the noddle snakes through the honorable task of running around the field drawing rainbows. Percy does not so honorably and faceplants the grass.

"Nemo!" Ara calls out with concern.

"I'm alright!" He coughs out a bit of grass. "But we're lost..."

Ara looks around. "What now?"

The snakes close in around them. "Hey," Percy sits up and stares at the little beasts tiredly. "Can we talk about this?"

"Stay back!" Ara uses charmspeak. "Don't attack us!"

It works, but just because they agreed not to attack doesn't mean they will let them leave. Percy lifts the staff higher to try and light up a path, and all the tiny heads follow the light. Her brother moves it around a few more times to test their obedience, and Ara locks eyes with him, having a fit of giggles.

"Is this how we die?" Ara asks bemusedly. "The mighty Jackson siblings... did we have a good run, brother?"

"Absolutely not," Percy snorts. "But it checks out with our luck."

"Remember when you flashed your boxers to the city hanging from that sign in Fifth Avenue?"

"Or when you almost choked to death on those gummy sharks because I farted too loud?"

They start laughing hysterically, the kind you get when everything in your life is so damn absurd you can't even feel bad about it. "Any last words, Perseus?" Ara says between chortles.

"I'd like to tell Annabeth I love her, and I'd also like to tell the gods to..." He looks down. "Am I floating?"

Ara watches as the staff pulls Percy up, glowing even brighter. "What did you do?"

"Why are you assuming it's my fault?" Percy frowns, still holding onto the staff.

"That wasn't pulling you off the ground five minutes ago," Ara's mind runs through the possibilities. "Perhaps humiliating memories activate it?"

"It's a messenger's staff!" Percy exclaims after some thinking. "You asked if I had anything to say and I told you I wanted to tell Annabeth I love her!"

"You also wanted to tell the gods to—"

"Shut up and grab me!" The girl wraps her arms around his waist and Percy grabs the staff with both hands. "Take us to Annabeth!" The siblings get lifted higher into the air. Ara wraps her legs around his for good measure. "Farewell, my friends," Percy tells the snakes. "Be good to one another."

Ara looks at her brother. "I don't understand why people think I'm the weird sibling."

They fly up, and then they become part of the rainbow. It turns out pretty damn disgusting and makes Ara realize something: her skin constantly shines just like this under the sun, she just hadn't noticed it until now. She's freaking Edward Cullen, skin of a killer and all...

They land behind their friends. "Greetings, earthlings," Percy says. 

"I'm having such a weird time with these quests..." Ara mumbles and hops off.

"What?" Annabeth's eyes widen. "How?"

"I have a message for Annabeth Chase," Percy grins. "I love you."

He leans in for a kiss but Annabeth's face lights up with understanding and she laughs, moving away from him. "Okay, I get it. Messenger's staff. Nice work!"

"Yeah, I totally planned it."

"You totally had no idea."

"Just because you're right doesn't mean I don't resent it."

Annabeth kisses him. "I love you, too, Seaweed Brain."

Grover groans. "I'm fine. Thanks."

"Love you too, G-man," Percy smiles. "That was some fine panpiping." 

"Hmph." He wrinkles his nose. "Let's just get back to Manhattan before things get weird. I mean even weirder."

Ara glances at her palm, scowling at it. "I concur."

Out of all the things Ara wanted to experience as a regular mortal outside of camp, being a cheerleader was in the top three. She's lost interest in a lot, but the girl still dreams about wearing one of those cute flowy skirts. There are a lot of kids at the tryouts, but she stands out thanks to her height, which makes her extremely self-conscious. It's ironic, she's the mighty general of Olympus and these girls could destroy her with a sneer anyway.

"Ar—" The cheer captain squints and whispers to the girl beside her. "Arai Jackson?"

"Arae Jackson," she steps forward and waves. "That's me."

"Oh, okay," the black girl flashes her a smile. "You can start now."

Ara does her best. By that, she means, she cheats to get a spot. Ara's not Spider-Man, and with great power comes an absolutely perfect opportunity to make her childhood dreams come true. The girls in the squad let her know as soon as the tryouts are over that she's in. 

They were delighted with her performance and made sure to tell her she just had this contagious "aura", her voice infected them with the giddy belief that their team would be the winner with no room for doubt. She's just that charming.

"Are you guys ready?" A choir of voices answers excitedly and Ara steps into the living room wearing her cheerleading uniform. She twirls in front of them spreading her arms proudly. "How do I look?"

"Oh, gods!" Annabeth beams. "You're so adorable!"

"Oh, thank gods," Percy sighs in a different tone. "It's not Kelli's..."

Ara suddenly remembers the ugly encounter they'd had with an empousa at Goode's about three years ago, and then all the times after when she was still wearing her uniform. Ara stares down at the fabric with a frown. "I'd forgotten about that..."

Percy makes a face. "Not gonna lie, I was worried you'd be wearing that. Not good memories at all."

"Goode changes the design every few years," Paul scans Ara's appearance with pride. "You look very nice, darling."

Ara grins. "Thanks, Dad. I always wanted to wear one of these! The captain thinks I have a great voice."

Percy smirks knowingly. "So you cheated?"

"It's not cheating, seaweed brain, it's making use of her skills," Annabeth defends her. "Besides, cheering's a wholesome way to use charmspeak, she'll be giving the school's team really good vibes."

Ara sticks out her tongue and her brother tosses a cushion at her. Sally scolds him briefly but then she stands and gives them a weird look. "Well, since we're sharing good news tonight..." she gestures at Paul to come closer. "We have an announcement."

Ara sees their soul lights glow bright teal and her stomach twists in anticipation.

"But first, I want to be clear that this should not affect your plans, kids. I don't want it to distract you from everything you've got going on... especially getting into New Rome University, Percy."

"Mom, I—I live in distracted," Percy stammers and sits up looking worried. "It's my zip code. Whatever is wrong, I want to help."

"Oh, sweetheart," Sally blushes. "Nothing's wrong. I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Ara and Percy repeat in the same stringy voice. "Like..." Percy wavers. "You and Paul."

"Yes, me and Paul."

The people in the room are looking at him and Ara with the same uncertainty, like they're expecting the plumbing to explode and lightning to shoot directly into the TV. Ara's throat closes and she tears up.

"That is awesome," Percy smiles big and leaves his seat to hug their parents.

Sally cries tears of joy. "I'm really glad you're happy."

"Of course I'm happy!" He glances at his mom's belly. "Hold up. When?"

"The due date is March fifteenth."

"The Ides of March?"

"That's just a best guess." Sally grins. "Percy came much later than expected."

"I was stubborn," he jokes. "So this means I'll be here when the baby comes. That's awesome. I'll have a few months before..." Then, realizing Ara is deadly quiet, he looks at her, concerned etched on his face. "Birdy?"

She tries to sound enthusiastic but her voice comes out all wrong. "I'm gonna have another sibling?"

"That is the idea," Paul continues carefully. "Does not mean we'll stop caring for you, sweetheart. You're still our little girl—though not so little now, I guess..." he eyes her wistfully, they're almost the same height.

Ara bursts into tears. "You don't need me anymore!"

Percy, Sally, and Paul pull her into a group hug to try and control the broken dam that she's turned into. What everyone back in camp has been fearing finally happens, but luckily for all of them, she's miles away and with her parents, who are pretty much the only ones who could possibly know what to do in this situation.

"Don't be stupid, Ara," Percy chastises her. "They're gonna love us the same... right?"

Sally chuckles. "Of course we will! You were our first son and daughter! You're both special!"

Ara hiccups. "But that baby will be the real deal! Not adopted!"

"If that mattered, I'd always get the first cookie," Percy scoffs. "Birdy, it'll be fun! You'll get to be here for all of the baby's firsts, that's a lot more than I'll get..."

"Hey," Sally pats his head noticing his downcasted expression, "you will be here for the delivery. And you can come home from California as often as you want. But you also need to stick to your plans. They are excellent plans!"

"Yeah, of course," Percy gives her a brief smile, then he squeezes Ara's shoulders. "You'll get to tease our little sibling—you'll understand why I love doing that to you!"

"You won't be as lonely once Percy leaves, 'cause we'll be using his side of the room for the baby," Sally discloses with a smirk.

Ara had been dreading Percy's departure for that exact reason—she did not want to sleep alone at home. A little baby means she'll have someone to love and to keep her company, more importantly, that kid will need her, she would be an older sister like Silena. That gets her bawling again, but at least this time it's happy tears.

"Thank you for adopting me," Ara hugs Percy and Sally tighter against her. "I love you."

Percy pats her head. "It'll be fun." He insists.

Despite the lively feeling of the room, Ara's stomach still tightens with unease. She looks at her brother, happy and ready to fully grow into a man, and Ara knows she's supposed to walk down the same road eventually. Yet... something tugs on her spine, a deep-rooted fear that maybe, just maybe, Percy won't be the one who misses all of the baby's firsts.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

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[ivy-kissobryos]

The Sun Reborn: A Devotional Rite

Below is a ritual I have devised, whose words are taken from The Azoetia: A Grimoire of the Sabbatic Craft. Although the rite is intended to be performed during the winter’s solstice, it could also be adapted to be used whenever one feels like the fire of their spirit needs a rekindling.

1. The Winter’s Eve

During the sunset of the eve of the winter’s solstice, recite the Proclamation of the Living Temple whilst facing west. Then, whilst bathing yourself in the light of the setting sun, recite the Adoration of the Setting Sun. Imagine the light of the setting sun becoming one with the light of your soul.

PROCLAMATION OF THE LIVING TEMPLE

I go forth in mine own Chosen Body, the Temple of all Gods. Crown’d am I with the Stellar Fire entwined about the Horns of the Ancient One. There is no part of me that is not I. My Hair is of the Cords that bind, scourge and bless: the Sheaves of the Harvest and the Serpents of Fear; the Crown of the Fields, of Flower and Leaf; the Crown of the Sky, the Threads that join the Stars, fair as the silk of the Moth and fine as the Spider’s strand. My Face is the Sun and the Fullness of the Moon, the Circle of the Horizons and the Black Mirror of the Depths: Masks beyond Number concealing the Face of I. My Skull is the Conclave of the One Spirit; mine is the Blessing, mine is the Curse. For I am the Voice of the Oracle. My Eyes are the Twin Shewstones of Twilight, the Dawn and the Dusk. Bright as the Star of Morning, bright as the Star of Evening. Their Gaze, sharp as that of any Bird, pierceth all things. Unto I is the Offering: the Sight of Virgin Beauty never-fading. My Ears are Witness to Truth, attentive to them that speak it. Unto I is the Offering: the Rhythms of Power and the Words of Calling, the Voice of the Ancestors, the Oracle of the Mighty Ones. May the Musick Celestial be heard and Inspiration given. My Nose is the Guide of the Great Hunt, Keen as that of the Stag and the Dog. Unto I is the Offering: all Scents that please and rouse the Heart. My Mouth is the Temple of the Serpent’s Tongue, a Devourer of Souls and a Receiving Chalice. May I drink of the Muses’ Fount and taste of the Feast Divine; may I partake of the first-fruits sacrificed unto the Gods. My Hands are the Shrines of Creation and Destruction. My Skin is the Vestment of Priest and Priestess. My Blood is the Ink of the Book. My Shadow is the Twin. Goddess and God am I, conjoined in their Shadows: the Double Twin Image of the Quintessential and Primeval I.

ADORATION OF THE SETTING SUN

Hail to Thee, O’ Mighty Sun at Thy Setting! Aged art Thou and grown in wisdom. Joyous is Thy twilight hour in the Palace of the Day. Joyous is Thy Heart at the Gates of Death and Sleep. stick, Joyous is Thy descent into the Palace of the Night. Thus am I grown in age and in wisdom. Joyous is this twilight hour in the Palace of the Day. Joyous is my heart at the Gates of Death and Sleep. Enduring is my strength, Joyous is my descent into the Palace of the Night. Hail to Thee! Ancient Father and Ancient King.Crowned art Thou with the Splendour of the Dusk. Adorned art Thou with the bountiful riches of Autumn. Guardian art Thou to the Gate of the Oracle. Blessed art Thou that Thy Light sustaineth the Life of the Earth. Hail to Thee, O’ Mighty Sun at Thy Setting! By the Power of all Thine Ancient Names.

2. The Winter’s Solstice

On the night of the winter’s solstice (ideally at midnight), recite the Proclamation of the Living Temple whilst facing north. Then, under the shadows of the night sky, light a candle and recite the Adoration of the Sun of the Deep. Imagine the light of the candle being akin to the light of your soul, enduring and bright in spite of the darkness around you.

ADORATION OF THE SUN OF THE DEEP

Hail to Thee, O’ Mighty Sun of the Deep! Most Holy art Thou in Death: A Mighty God in the Company of the Ancestors; A Concealed God in the Palace of the Night. Enduring is the Light of Thy Spirit. Thus I am strong in Death. Mighty am I in the Company of the Ancestors. Concealed is my Spirit in the Palace of the Night. Enduring is the Light of my Soul. Hail to Thee, Heart of the Earth, Kindred of the Imperishable Stars! Crowned art Thou with the Splendour of the Midnight Hour. Adorned art Thou with the nakedness of Winter. Robed art Thou with the mantle of the Night-sky, Blessed art Thou, that Thy Light hath strength in the midst of Darkness. Hail to Thee in the Congregation of the Holy Stars! By the Power of all Thy Secret and Unknown Names.

3. The Dawn After

At the first light of dawn — the first break of daylight after the winter’s solstice — stand outside and face east. Recite the Proclamation of the Living Temple whilst greeting the rising sun. Take a jar of honey with you and catch the sunlight in the jar of honey. Recite the Adoration of the Rising Sun and then swallow the honey, imbued with the properties of the sun reborn.

ADORATION OF THE RISING SUN

Hail to Thee, O’ Mighty Sun at Thy rising! Newborn art Thou into the Palace of the Day. Replenished is Thy Strength as Thou risest from Death and the Palace of the Night. Thus newborn am I into the Palace of the Day. Replenished is my Strength as I arise from sleep and the Palace of the Night. Hail to Thee! Child Eternal in Thy Beauty! Crowned art Thou with the Splendour of Dawn, Adorned art Thou with the Blossoms of Spring, Holy art Thou in Divine Innocence. Blessed art Thou that Thy Light sustaineth the Life of Earth. Hail to Thee, O’ Mighty Sun at Thy rising! By the Power of all Thine Ancient Names.

This ritual is inspired by PGM I. 1-42 which tells the practitioner to “take the milk with the honey and drink it before the rising of the sun, and there will be something divine in your heart.” The purpose of the Proclamation of the Living Temple is to remind the body that it comes from the same dust as the stars, that everything from its hair to its skin to even its shadow is sacred. In essence, the Proclamation of the Living Temple serves as a way to sanctify the body. The Adorations of the Sun, consequently, act as a way to sanctify the soul by drawing parallels between the sun and our very soul.

This ritual is quite experimental and I confess that I was unable to perform the ritual in full during this year’s winter solstice due to physical exhaustion and work obligations. Nevertheless, I am confident that the ritual will bring rejuvenation to all who perform it. Regardless, please do perform some divination on whether you should perform the ritual or not, just in case there may be some unforeseen side effects.

To read the original blog post that this ritual originally appeared in, click here.