#sacrilege series

[ghost-in-the-hall]

The Anointing (Matthew Greywolf x Fem! Reader) SMUT

Hello hello this took way longer than I would have liked for me to finish, but, we made it! This is the second installment of The Sacrilege Series, and a request for some more Matthew smut from my dear friend @belnovacaine . This time reader is invited to participate in a ritual to help "alleviate some stress" by Father Matthew. But, reader's feelings are much deeper than a simple one night stand, will Matthew return her feelings?

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI, 18+ CONTENT, misuse of religious practices/spaces, mutual feelings, confession, body worship kinda, use of anointing oils, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, lots and lots of praise and pet name's from Matthew, I think that's everything if I missed any please let me know!

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

You just needed a break.

You had been running rampant trying to clean up all of Charles' new assistant's mistakes with their scheduling and paperwork. “I told her to call me if she had any questions,” you grumbled to yourself.

“I'm sorry,” Charles apologizes. “I hired her on Roel’s recommendation; I should've known better.” He sighs, leaning against the edge of the desk you were working at.

“Roel needs to stop being so concerned with trying to play matchmaker, especially when his recommendations don't have any clerical experience whatsoever.” You snap back in an annoyed tone.

“Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?” Your scribbling pauses at the sound of an all-too-familiar voice, your grip tightening on your pen. Your heart pounding, you swallow thickly as his shadow stretches across the desk. “Charles is stealing you all for himself, hm?” he asks teasingly.

“Father Matthew, you sound awfully jealous.” You respond with a smirk.

He chuckles, shooting you a flirtatious grin. “Of course I'm jealous. My favorite girl is spending time with another man, my brother nonetheless, how scandalous.” You can't help but giggle as he winks at you. You return to your current task while Charles explains your predicament.

“So now, she's stuck cleaning up her mess before everything falls apart on us.” Charles chuckles, patting you on the back.

A finger is placed under your chin, Matthew gently tilting your face until your eyes can easily meet his. “That's a lot of work for one little rabbit.”

Your cheeks grew warm as his gaze held you firmly in place. “I can manage, don't worry,” you replied.

“After you finish here, I'd like you to come see me, alright?” His eyes slowly trail to your lips.

“Of course, Father. Can I ask why?” Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke.

“I need some help with a ritual,” he smiles sharply at you. “It's one I think you'll enjoy, especially after such a stressful day.” 

“I'll be there,” you grin coyly. “But you need to let me finish my work for that to happen,” you giggle.

“My apologies, Schwester.” He chuckles before straightening up. “I look forward to seeing you later.” 

Charles chuckles as his brother disappears down the hallway. “You're certainly in for a fun evening.”

“And how exactly do you know what he has planned?” Your heart thrums in your chest at Charles' amused expression.

“Matthew isn't a complicated man to read once you get to know him. He enjoys expensive alcohol, good quality cigars… and making the woman he's found himself enamored with completely melt in the palm of his hand.” He finishes with a chuckle. 

Your cheeks grow warm. "You really think Father Matthew is—” You cut yourself off as you shake your head. Never mind, I don't have time to worry about that now.” Charles smiles down at you, watching you scribble away at the paperwork in front of you.

Hours had passed, and you were still nowhere close to being done. You sat up straight in your chair, rolling your shoulders back with a groan as you stretched. You didn't understand how someone could make such a mess in a single day. You glanced up at the sound of heels quickly hurrying down the hallway. “I heard you got stuck with a pretty big mess.” She smiles.

“Claire, thank God.” You could have cried at the sight of her. She looked over the spread of paperwork in front of you, covered in red cross-outs and arrows, frantic notes written in the corners so you could somehow organize it.

“Wow, I knew Roel was bad at picking assistants, but this is impressive,” she laughs. She bumps you with her hip, pushing you out of your chair. “Get out of here; I'll handle the rest,” she winks.

“Claire, I can't let you—” she says, cutting you off by waving her hand at you.

“Nonsense, this is the first time Falk has taken a vacation in years; you deserve the time off, too. You've already been doing this for hours, so I can finish it. And besides,” she shoots you a devious smirk, “I heard someone is in for a nice little evening with Father Matthew.” You sucked in a sharp breath, not expecting her to bring that up so casually.

“How did you know about that?” You ask with a bashful chuckle.

“You have to call Attila’s office to schedule a time at the mensa,” she whispers in response.

“The mensa?” You ask in shock. She nods slowly, shooting you a knowing grin.

“That’s all I know,” she says in response to your confused expression, holding up her hands to show she was innocent. “But you probably shouldn't keep him waiting,” she smirks.

“I owe you for this.” You thank her as you gather your belongings.

“You can fill me in on your evening tonight over lunch, and we'll call it even; how's that?” She smiles.

“You got it.” You laugh in response before hurrying off to meet Father Matthew.

You knock tentatively against his door, hearing him quietly call you inside. He smiles at the sight of you, rising from his seat as he smoothes his shirt. “You came.” Your heart fluttered in your chest as you fidget nervously with your fingers.

“Of course I did. Do you really think I'd turn down an invitation to spend time with you?” He chuckles, slowly walking around his desk to approach you. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met his, his finger slipping under your chin to hold you in place.

“I'm glad,” he smiles sharply down at you, “because I plan on taking up a lot of your time tonight, schwester.” Your knees felt weak, your mouth hanging open to speak, but no words managed to find their way out. He slips his hand into yours, studying you carefully. “Are you ready?” 

“As ready as I'll ever be.” You respond with a nervous giggle. The two of you strolled side by side through the darkening hallways of the Abbey, the late afternoon sun leaving the corridors burning in their warm orange light.

“I don't want you to be nervous,” he says suddenly, feeling the anxiety behind all your excitement. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You shake your head, making him smile in response. “You're perfect; I just don't know what to expect.”

“I'll be right by your side through every step of the process, and we can stop at any time.” Your cheeks grow warm as his arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you into him slightly as you walk. “If anything, I should be the one who's nervous,” he admits with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” You prod curiously.

“I have to make sure I'm up to your standards.” He responds vaguely with a wink.

Father Matthew holds open the heavy door to the cathedral, allowing you to slip inside ahead of him. It was always a strange experience being in the chapel after hours. You could hear a pin drop in the silence; even your breathing seemed to echo off the room's impossibly high ceilings. You jumped as the door slammed shut behind you. Father Matthew stands at your side, offering you his arm as you begin your procession down the aisle. You pause at the altar's edge, Matthew looking down at you when he senses your hesitation. You look up at him with large doey eyes that could have easily brought him to his knees. “Is it really okay?”

His hand slips into yours, carefully bringing your knuckles to his lips. “I would be honored to have you standing beside me.” He moves on to the first step, waiting for you to decide to join him. You slowly set one foot on the white marble step, taking a deep breath before allowing the other to join. Matthew smiles down at you, delighted by your acceptance of his invitation. He takes a moment to study you as you stand in the middle of the altar: your much smaller hands in his, the way he could see your nerves begin to settle whenever your eyes met his; the sight brought a smile to his face. “Now, for the hard part…” he trails off with a playful smirk. “You're not allowed to lift a finger, understand? He slowly lowers himself to one knee, forcing you to look down at him. “Anything that you need, I will take care of.” Your heart hammered in your chest as your mind raced. The feeling of Matthew’s warm hand slipping into yours snapped you back to reality. His gentle smile and warm brown eyes immediately pushed down the nerves that were bubbling up in your stomach.

“Yes, Father.” Your eyes flickered around his features, everything about him only drawing you closer. Goosebumps erupt across your skin as his fingers trail down the outside of your leg. He places your hand on his shoulder, steadying you as he lifts your foot from the floor. He carefully undoes the buckle of your shoe, easing it off your foot before mirroring the process on your other leg. He stands, neatly placing your shoes to the side. The marble was cold under your feet; you touched your chest only to feel your heart racing under your palm. You let out a startled yelp as he suddenly scoops you in his arms. You can't help but giggle slightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he gently sways you with every step. He sets you on the edge of the mensa, one arm wrapping around your waist as his free hand cups your cheek. He presses his forehead to yours, gazing down at you longingly.

“Matthew?” You state his name softly.

“Yes, Engel?” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours as he speaks.

“Can,” you swallow thickly, your mouth growing dry as you work up the nerve to ask, “Can you kiss me?” He breathes out a soft chuckle.

“Funny, I was about to ask you something similar.” You share a coy smile as his lips carefully slot against yours. Your arms slide over his shoulders, tugging him closer as you memorize what it feels like to kiss him. He tasted faintly of sweet wine and tobacco, his calloused fingers rough against your skin as he slowly pushed up the hem of your dress. You whine softly as he parts from you, making him chuckle. “Patience, Engel. We can't get too far ahead of ourselves.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before separating from you entirely. He skillfully moved around the altar, grabbing everything he would need from memory. You inhaled deeply, making a pleased hum at the sweetly perfumed oil he set at your side. He drapes a deep maroon silk cloth over the mensa, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips capture yours. He cups your face carefully in his hands, his thumbs stroking over the peaks of your cheekbones. “Can I undress you, schwester?”

“Please do.” You respond breathlessly, making him chuckle. His hands squeeze around your thighs, your supple flesh dimpling under his fingertips. He slowly slides up your dress, the palms of his hands memorizing the feeling of your body's curves as he passes over them. You were so soft in his hands; watching goosebumps erupt at his touch was intoxicating. 

“Arms up.” He instructs, allowing him to ease the fabric over your head. He allows himself a moment to just drink in the sight of you, a sound akin to a territorial growl bubbling up in his throat. He takes your chin between his fingers, “So pretty, Schwester.” You shiver as his fingers trail down your neck. He smiles as he hesitates over your pulse, feeling how it thrummed under his touch before continuing on his path over your shoulder. He easily undoes the clasp of your bra, guiding the thin straps from your shoulders delicately as if you would shatter at the slightest wrong movement. You press your lips to his; you can feel Matthew smile as he melts into the kiss. His hands slide under the curve of your ass as he effortlessly lifts you from the mensa; your arms fling around his neck as the action causes you to let out a startled yelp that quickly dissolves into a flustered giggle. “Guess I need to remember my own strength.” He chuckles. He wraps an arm securely around you, holding you against him as he works the thin, delicate fabric of your lingerie down your legs. His hands felt hot against your bare skin, massive paws that engulfed the curve of your hips. You felt drunk off the euphoric buzz you were already experiencing, Matthews's attentiveness making your pulse race. He paused momentarily, taking hold of the glistening silk cloth, offering it to cover up while he finished setting it up. You instinctually lean into his muscular chest as he pulls you to him from behind, lips trailing up the sensitive skin of your neck before stopping just below your ear. His hand slides across your stomach, the silk cool against your otherwise bare body. “I'm going to take good care of you, Engel.” You shiver at the feeling of hot breath against the shell of your ear.

Your body jolts slightly as the first drop of oil splatters across your shoulder. The liquid was warm as it dripped down your skin. You let out a soft moan as Matthew’s strong fingers press into your aching muscles. “Good girl.” He whispers. You can't help but squeeze your legs together at his praise; you catch your lip between your teeth as you hear him chuckle, noticing the effect such a simple phrase had on you. He trails a finger across your jaw, turning your head to allow his lips to find yours. “Such a pretty thing you are, Engel.” You catch the sight of the triumphant smirk that had plastered itself across his features, reveling in the way you melted under his touch. Every compliment a praise for giving into your body's need for pleasure, Matthew simply couldn't get enough of the image of you. A sacred Madonna placed upon the altar, of which he was the only one bestowed with the grace of God to lay a finger on her. He vowed to care for you like the divine being you were. The way you arched into his touch, your sweet sounds gradually became louder and more fervent, making it hard to stay in control. He's snapped from his thoughts as you softly call his name, placing yourself on your knees before him. The hardwood of the mensa was hard under your body, your mind too clouded with arousal to acknowledge the discomfort. Matthew stared back at you with blown pupils, his eyes nearly black as he fought against his primal urge to take you right here and now. But he couldn't deny how gorgeous you looked presented before him. The deep red of the satin complimented your soft skin; it cascaded off your body like a crimson waterfall. Your hair is already slightly tousled; your cheeks flush with warmth.

“Schwester,” his husky voice echoes through the empty chapel. “Will you allow me to cleanse your body of sin and anoint you here before the eyes of God?”

“Yes, Father.” You cup his face in your hands, pulling his lips back to yours. Matthew's hands are on you in an instant, lifting you from the mensa with a growl as he guides your legs around his waist. He crushes your body against his, easily able to maneuver you until he has you lying how he wants against the cold wood.

“So beautiful.” He whispers sweet words of praise over you as he dedicates time to massaging each tender muscle. You can't help but let out a soft whine as his hands begin to trail up your thighs. He paused at the edge of the fabric that covered your body. He glances up at you, silently asking for permission to continue. You nod, giving him a soft smile. He leans over you, placing a soft kiss to your lips. “Remember, we can stop at any time, okay?”

You take his face in your hands, smiling softly as you study the sharp contours of his features. “I don't want you to stop.” You whisper against his lips. Matthew freezes, his heart pounding in his chest. The way you looked at him with such fondness, how gently your palms rested against his cheeks.

“I…” he swallowed thickly, warm brown eyes drinking in the sight of yours. “I’m in love with you.” He confesses, his voice trembling with nerves.

You breathe out a laugh, a smile instantly stretching across your features. “I love you too, Matthew.” You let out a delighted squeal as you feel his strong hands wrap around your hips, his lips crushing against yours as he pulls your body closer to his. You let your head fall back, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as Matthew trails wet kisses down your neck. One of his hands slowly slid up the outside of your thigh before it dipped below the cloth that covered your body, trailing over the curve of your hip. He hikes your leg around his waist.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, a strangled gasp escaping you as you feel Matthew’s teeth bite down roughly on your neck. “Just relax, sweetheart; I'm going to take good care of you.” He coos, pressing one more kiss to your lips before letting the satin fall from your body to the floor. He whispers sweet words of praise in your ear as he slowly starts to tease your entrance with his fingers. You fist your hands in his shirt, gasping softly as you feel him ease his long, thick digits inside of you. Your back arches off the hardwood, Matthew’s warm palm immediately pressing into you for support. “I've got you, Engel.” Your mind was already clouded with pleasure; Matthew was an absolute expert in his craft, as he seemed to know exactly where to touch you to drive you insane.

You pull his lips to yours, kissing him feverishly as you hold onto him anywhere your hands could manage to reach. “Please,” you whine against his lips. “Need you.”

He chuckles softly, “My, my, what an impatient girl you are, schwester.” He cups your cheek as he presses another ferocious kiss to your lips. “But I’m happy to comply with such a pretty little thing.” He makes quick work of undoing his belt, haphazardly kicking off his pants as he pulls his shirt over his head. He moved with urgency, easily hoisting himself onto the mensa to pin your smaller form beneath him. His gaze rakes hungrily down your body, drinking in the sight of every curve. You squirmed, feeling your cheeks grow warm under his intense observance. “You are just so perfect, Mein Herz.” He cups your cheek in his hand, peppering your face with kisses as he eases himself inside of you. You cry out, your nails digging deep crescents into his biceps as you grab onto him. He hushes you, “You're doing so good, sweetheart.” He groans, cursing under his breath. You feel every inch of him push inside of you, stretching you to the point you were worried you might break. You whine, your thighs trembling when he finally settles his hips against yours. Matthew lets out a shuddering breath, another curse tumbling from his lips at how tightly you squeezed him. He buries his face into the crook of your neck; the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sends a delicious shiver up your spine.

You let out a loud moan as he slowly rolled his hips. Matthew let out a low growl at the melodic sound, repeating the action, smirking slightly as your loud moans echoed through the empty chapel. He gradually increased his pace, hitting a spot inside you that made your toes curl and the edges of your vision go white with every sharp thrust. “Fuck,” he curses gruffly. He sits himself on his knees, wrapping both hands around your hips. He manages to somehow push even deeper inside of you; you scream his name, Matthew groans at the sound. He grabs your face in his hand, making your eyes meet his. “So fucking pretty.” He growls. You groan as he pushes his thumb past your lips, greedily pulling the digit into your mouth with your tongue. “That's my girl.” He praises you with a smile. He picks up the bottle of oil, tipping it just enough to let a few drops of oil splatter across your stomach. He eases his thumb from your mouth, using his strong hands to massage oil over your bare skin. You weren't sure how much longer you would be able to last, every snap of Matthew's hips sending you closer and closer to the edge.

“Schwester,” Matthew growls, not slowing his pace. He could feel your body start to twitch in his hands, your body moving against his as you raced towards your climax. “Do you give yourself to me before the eyes of God?”

“Yes, Father.” You weren't sure how you managed to push the words past your lips, barely able to form a coherent thought let alone a sentence.

“Do you… fuck,” you both can't help but smile at each other, the seriousness of the ritual long pushed from your mind, completely absorbed in the fact that you were here with each other. “Do you wish to be absolved of your sins in exchange for pleasure?” He purrs, his tone only making the coil in your core wind tighter.

“Yes, Father.” He lets out a hum of approval. He dabs holy oil on his thumb, supporting himself in his forearm as he leans over you. You close your eyes, Matthew’s hand warm against your skin as he marks the sign of the cross on your forehead.

“I absolve you, Schwester.” He says with a sharp smile, his hips beginning to stutter as he struggles not to fall over the edge. His lips crash into yours, making you moan loudly into his mouth. You feel his hand slide down your torso; you cry out as his fingers begin to draw tight, quick circles on your clit.

You moan his name, “I'm close–” You’re cut off by another moan that he effortlessly rips from your lungs.

“Cum for me, Engel.” He whispers against your lips. You felt the pleasure building up inside of you until it finally snapped. You screamed his name, your nails clawing down his back, undoubtedly leaving deep red scratches in their wake. Matthew followed not long after, your name tumbling from his lips mixed with curses in both German and English as his hips stutter to a stop, his member pulsing against your sensitive walls as he releases himself inside of you. He drops his weight on top of you, making you groan. Both of your chests heaved as you struggled to catch your breath.

“You're in love with me, huh?” You smile, Matthew chuckles at your question.

“I am.” He props himself up enough to meet your eyes. “I hope that's not a problem.” He teases.

“I'm just trying to figure out why it took some fantastic sex ritual for you to confess that to me.” You laugh as he litters your face with kisses.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” he kisses your lips softly, “confessing to you through worship seemed like the only right way to tell you.” Your cheeks grow warm at his sweet words.

You carefully press your lips to his, “I'm in love with you too.” He smiles, cradling you in his arms.

“How about I get us cleaned up, and we head back to my room for some dinner.” He offers, gently tucking some hair behind your ear.

You can't help but smile in response, “I'd like that.”

Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @mossmothworld @obsessed-and-possessed @hinkepink @iamsarahsaysso (if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list please let me know!)

[everythingdnddd]

Okay possible unpopular opinion? thought? curiosity? something here lol

I'm relatively new to the religious lore so there's fair chance I'm missing things, but the potential of the Vax / Raven Queen pairing seems a little... Don't get me wrong, I cried my eyes out at every stage of the end, but does no one else feel like Vax's story was equal parts tragedy and ascension?

Idk, the final deal he makes with her is laced with sadness for sure, but also with... potential? Loneliness? I don't even mean it in a ship way. There's just this element of melancholy companionship and comfort that's so intriguing to me. Vax who just SEES the people in his orbit and cares so deeply about them, who has come to terms with and learned to appreciate her purpose, finding his place at her side, while she's an even more solitary figure, shadowed and mysterious, but also profoundly purposed and caring in her own way. Parallels. Parallels in their stories. Parallels in their character details. There's something so Hades and Persephone about the overarching image of the two of them, but with all the details twisted toward different themes. Or maybe the same themes, ancient or modern. I don't know.

Again, it's not even a ship thing. I'm just... Thoughts. Open-ended thoughts. Idk.

[littleeyesofpallas]

Osumon[おすもん]

[thebahwrites]

being a (fanfic) writer in general makes you do some curious things. a lot of people mention their weird ass google research but me, despite my heavy catholic school AND sunday school upbringing, have now a bible study website open because i have made some Aesthetic Decisions where one of my works is concerned and i’m gonna be using verses for the chapter titles but that includes KNOWING those verses.

so long story short i haven’t set foot in a church in years and could not care less for Christianism as a whole but the religious trauma, filial piety and stained glass of picturesque violence fuck so severely i picked on as themes and anyway i now am re-reading the bible

i’m sure my extremely religious mother is looking down on me from wherever she is feeling somewhat vindicated

edit just to add

chapter one’s verse is this TELL ME IT DOESN’T GO HARD? Romans 3:10

[fideidefenswhore]

i actually think it is just that AB fans are tastemakers in the tudor fandom...they watch whatever we watch. 

[thevellaunderground]

Law of Sacrilege Seasons 1-3

by Joshua Landeros (Author) As posted by the author on Kindle Vella. Venerated knight Pinus Ave Longavian arrives on the shores of the unexplored continent of Sebel. The meeting of two vastly different people could allow the exchange of goods, culture, and magic itself. Lurking beneath the peace, however, mistrust and malice grow in tandem. Smoke is on the horizon, and the spoils will go to the…

[winxanity-ii]

DAMNED DEVOTION [3/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 ( m. receiving oral/handjob; fem. receiving oral; p in v; overstimulation; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos; breeding kink; degradation/praise kink; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 5.4k a/n: ahhh, i can't believe i finally finished the final part to this little 'devotion' piece. to thank you all for following along with this series i may have gone a little filthy 😅 also, don't know if you guys care to know, but it's my twin (@k-nayee) and i's 20th birthday today, wheeewwww 🎉🥳! i'll see you all in the next update, and don't be afraid to shoot an ask/request or check out my other works! this is a continuation of my previous one-shotS, '𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍' and '𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.' If you haven't read those yet, I recommend starting there to understand the progression of their relationship….

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

It was a bright afternoon, the sun hanging high in the sky, its rays filtering through the branches of the old oak tree that stood at the edge of the courtyard. The air smelled fresh, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant murmur of conversation.

A group of young nuns-in-training, dressed in their modest habits, sat on the grass, their voices soft with laughter. You were among them, sitting with your legs tucked beneath you, your Bible open in your lap, a pencil in your hand as you made notes from the earlier service.

The warmth of the sun on your skin made you feel content, almost peaceful, and you were momentarily lost in thought, the words on the page blurring slightly as your mind wandered.

"Sister ____!" a voice called, breaking through your concentration.

You looked up, startled, to see one of the younger nuns smiling at you, her eyes bright with curiosity. She had a round face, still clinging to the softness of her youth, her cheeks flushed from the sun. Her name was Sister Olive, and she was always one of the more talkative ones, her energy infectious among the group.

"Yes?" you replied, giving her a gentle smile. The group of nuns-in-training giggled amongst themselves, their eyes flickering between you and something—or rather someone—further down the courtyard path.

You followed their gaze and saw Father Charlie walking alongside another priest, his expression focused, his hands clasped behind his back.

The sun seemed to catch on his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the soft waves of his hair. He looked every bit the holy man, yet there was an undeniable handsomeness to him, something that drew eyes wherever he went.

Sister Olive leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sister ____, does Father Charlie have a wife?"

Your brows furrowed slightly, confused by the question. "Pardon?" you asked, blinking as you looked back at her.

The group broke into another fit of giggles, Sister Olive glancing towards Father Charlie again before continuing. "I heard that priests can be married if they were married before being ordained..." she trailed off, her tone curious, her gaze turning back to you. "I just wondered if Father Charlie was ever married. He seems like he could be, doesn't he?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at the implication, and you quickly shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. "No, Sister Olive, he isn't married," you answered, your tone soft but firm.

The young nuns exchanged glances, and another wave of giggles spread through the group, their laughter light and full of the innocence of youth.

Sister Olive sighed dramatically, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Ah, I thought so. He's too serious to have a wife, don't you think? But still... he's quite handsome."

You swallowed, glancing back towards Father Charlie, who was now nearing the edge of the courtyard, his eyes scanning the area as if searching for something—or someone.

You quickly looked away, your heart fluttering in your chest, a strange mixture of emotions churning within you. You knew you shouldn't think of him in that way, shouldn't let the words of the younger nuns affect you, but it was impossible not to.

The memory of his touch, his voice, the way he had looked at you in the confessional—it all came rushing back, making your pulse quicken, your hands trembling slightly as you closed your Bible.

A second later, a shadow fell over the group; the young nuns quickly quieted, their giggles turning into soft murmurs. Looking up, you saw Father Charlie standing before you, a small, knowing grin on his lips.

His eyes locked onto yours, an intensity in his gaze that made your breath catch. He gave a short, polite bow of his head. "Good morning, Sister ____," he said, his voice smooth, almost gentle, before his gaze shifted to the rest of the group. "Good morning, sisters."

The young nuns responded in unison, their voices a mix of giggles and greetings. You looked down at your Bible, mumbling a quiet, "Good morning, Father Charlie," along with the others, your face heating up under his watchful eyes.

You thought that was the end of it, that he would move on and let you be, but then he spoke again, his voice calling your name.

"Sister ____," he said, his tone still polite, but there was something in it that made your heart skip a beat. "I was hoping I could have your assistance with preparing for next week's sermon. I need some help organizing the notes and scriptures. Would you be able to spare a moment?"

You felt your heart race, already knowing that this was a lie, that his request had little to do with the sermon and everything to do with the tension that lingered between you.

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile, nodding as you closed your Bible and rose to your feet. "Of course, Father," you replied, turning to the young nuns. "I'll see you all later."

They nodded, their eyes wide with curiosity as they watched you walk away with Father Charlie. He led you across the courtyard, his pace measured, his hands clasped behind his back.

You followed him in silence, your heart pounding, your mind racing with a mix of anticipation and fear.

He brought you to the sacristy—a room in the church where sacred objects and vestments were kept and prepared for use during rituals.

The room was medium-sized, its thick concrete walls lined with shelves that held ornate chalices, gilded candlesticks, and other sacred items. A large wooden table stood in the center, covered with cloth and a few open books, the sunlight streaming through the small window, casting a warm glow over the space.

The air smelled faintly of incense, the scent comforting yet heavy, reminding you of the solemnity of the church.

You turned around just in time to see Father Charlie shut the door, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet room.

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat as he turned back to you, his eyes dark, filled with something you couldn't quite name—something that made your pulse quicken, your hands trembling slightly at your sides.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, and turned back around, your eyes roaming over the various sacred objects lining the shelves. You busied yourself by adjusting the cloth on the table, pretending to study the items, anything to keep yourself distracted from the tension filling the room.

You could feel him behind you, his presence heavy, the air thick with something unspoken.

A shudder ran through you as you felt his hands on your shoulders, his fingers rubbing gently against the fabric of your habit, caressing your shoulders with a slow, deliberate touch. You closed your eyes, trying to suppress the tremble that ran through your body, your breath catching in your throat.

"F-Father Charlie..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Before you could say anything more, he spun you around, his hands firm on your shoulders. His eyes were intense, dark, filled with a hunger that made your knees weak. His face was inches from yours, and you could see the way his pupils were blown wide; his lips parted slightly as he looked at you.

"Shhh," he murmured, one of his hands moving up to cup your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His touch was gentle, almost tender, but there was an intensity behind it that made your heart race. His gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, you felt like you were caught, trapped in the depth of his eyes, unable to look away.

You took a shaky step back, your eyes dropping to the floor as you tried to gather your thoughts. You turned away from him, your hands gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles white as you spoke, your voice trembling. "Father, I... I find myself at war. What we... what we have, it's wrong. It's against everything we believe in, everything we stand for. I can't... we can't keep doing this."

You heard him let out a soft, frustrated sigh, and a second later, his hands were on you again, spinning you around to face him. There was a tension in his jaw; his eyes narrowed slightly, frustration evident in the way he looked at you.

"No," he said, his voice firm, his gaze intense as he held you in place. "No, Sister. You're wrong. This... what we have, it's not wrong. It's not some sin that we need to be ashamed of." His voice softened slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Do you think the love between Jesus and Mary Magdalene was wrong? Do you think He loved her any less because of who she was? Love is not something to be condemned, not when it's real... not when it consumes you the way this consumes me."

His voice dropped lower, almost a groan, his eyes darkening as he stepped closer, his chest brushing against yours. "You have no idea what you do to me. The way you look at me, the way you move, the way you speak—it's made me delirious. I can't think of anything else but you; I can't focus on anything but this need, this hunger for you. You've taken hold of me, body and soul, and I can't... I can't let you go."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing at the intensity of his gaze, the raw need in his voice. You could feel your resolve crumbling, the conflict within you fading beneath the weight of his confession, the depth of his longing.

"Please," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, a desperate edge to his words. "Please, just let me have you, one last time. If you're sure—if you really mean it, I'll let you go. But please... just one more time."

A soft, almost mousy, "Okay," left your lips before you could stop yourself, the word barely audible, but it was all he needed.

In an instant, he was on you, his lips crashing against yours, his hands pulling you close, his fingers digging into your waist as he kissed you with a hunger that took your breath away.

Your steps staggered back, your body unsteady as he moved with you, following you, his lips never leaving yours. Your back hit the edge of the table, and he pressed against you, his body warm, his touch insistent, his kiss deepening as his tongue slipped into your mouth, coaxing a soft moan from your throat.

His hands moved to your hips, lifting you slightly as he guided you onto the table, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel the intensity of his need, the way his body pressed against yours, his hands exploring, claiming, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

His fingers were frantic as they pushed up your habit, his touch rough, almost desperate. His lips never left your skin, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone, across your chest.

You could feel his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts, his need evident in every hurried movement, every touch. He kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours, swallowing your soft moans as his hands moved beneath the fabric, lifting it higher, his touch hot against your bare skin.

You gasped when he dropped to his knees before you, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, his hands holding your legs apart. Just as he was about to continue, you panicked slightly, your hands flying to his shoulders, gripping them tightly. "W-Wait," you stuttered, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

Charlie looked up at you, his gaze questioning, his breath hot against your thighs. His eyes were dark, filled with desire, and his lips were parted, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

You swallowed, licking your lips nervously as you avoided his gaze, your fingers still gripping his shoulders. "I... you always... I mean, you always... please me with your mouth," you stammered, your face growing hot, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I was wondering if... if I could... return the favor?"

Your words were awkward, your innocence clear in the way you spoke, the way your eyes flickered everywhere but at him. You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself, your voice going quiet. "I mean... if you want, Father..." You finally forced yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes wide, nervous, and hopeful.

For a moment, there was silence between the two of you, the air thick with tension. You began to worry that you had said something wrong, that you had crossed some line, but then Charlie let out a low groan, his hands tightening on your thighs, his head dropping against them. He muttered something, his voice muffled, and you barely caught the words, "Are you truly an angel, or a devil sent to test me?"

He stood slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs as he rose, his eyes never leaving yours. When he reached you, he cupped your face, pulling you into a deep, lingering kiss. His lips moved slowly against yours, his tongue teasing, tasting, and when he finally pulled away, he left a soft peck against your lips. His eyes were softer now, the intensity replaced with something gentler, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip, his touch tender.

Then, his expression shifted, his eyes darkening, a low, commanding tone entering his voice as he spoke. "Get on your knees," he said, his voice almost a growl.

You felt a shiver run through you, your body reacting instinctively to his words. You stared up at him, your heart pounding, your pulse quickening as you saw the way his eyes had darkened, the hunger there almost overwhelming. His breathing was shallow, his gaze so intense it made your knees weak.

Slowly, you moved, slipping off the table, your feet touching the ground as you lowered yourself to your knees before him. You didn't break eye contact as you descended, your gaze locked on his, the intensity of the moment making your heart pound.

There was something electric in the air, something that made your skin tingle, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

Father Charlie's eyes were dark, his gaze fixed on you, his lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling as he watched you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between you almost unbearable.

You knelt there, looking up at him, your hands resting on your thighs, waiting, anticipating.

Slowly, Charlie's hands moved beneath his robes, the rustling of fabric almost deafening in the silence of the room. You heard the soft clink of his belt buckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes widened slightly, your breath catching in your throat as you watched him, expecting him to pull his robes up and over his waist, but instead, he began slipping off the entire robe, his movements slow, deliberate.

Your gaze was drawn to his chest as the robe slid off his shoulders, revealing smooth, tanned skin, the muscles beneath rippling with each movement. He pulled the robe over his head, his arms flexing, the fabric falling to the floor behind him.

Your eyes trailed down his body, taking in every inch of him—the broadness of his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell, the dark hair that started at his navel and led downward, disappearing beneath the waistband of his unbuckled trousers.

There was a dark line of hair, a happy trail that made your breathing stutter, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Charlie's eyes never left yours as he reached down, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch gentle, almost affectionate. His thumb caressed the bottom of your face before his hand shifted, his fingers gently squeezing your cheeks until your lips puckered slightly. His eyes darkened, his lips curling into a faint smile.

"Pull it out," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. He dropped his hand away, his gaze heavy as he watched you.

With shaking hands, you reached up, your fingers trembling as they found the button of his trousers. You fumbled for a moment, your breath shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

You unbuttoned his trousers, your fingers brushing against the zipper, pulling it down slowly, the sound loud in the quiet room. You tugged the fabric down his hips, the trousers falling to his ankles.

Your eyes widened as you saw the large bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers, the outline of him clear, the sight making your breath hitch. Slowly, you reached forward, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down, your gaze fixed on him.

His length sprang free, bobbing slightly before settling against his thigh. You couldn't help but stare, taking him in. The veins along his length stood out, thick and prominent, the head flushed a deep pink, glistening slightly.

You swallowed hard, your eyes tracing every inch of him, the reality of it sinking in. He was bigger than you remembered, the sheer size of him making your breath catch, your heart pounding even harder.

That... that was inside me...

Your cheeks flushed at the memory, the thought of it making your thighs press together, heat pooling in your belly.

"Sister," Charlie's voice broke through your thoughts, his tone soft but commanding. Your eyes snapped up, meeting his gaze, his dark eyes watching you intently. There was something in his expression, a mixture of desire and tenderness that made your breath catch. "Give me your hand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated for only a moment before you extended your hand to him, your fingers trembling slightly. He took it gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, and you watched as his other hand moved down his chest, his fingers gliding over his smooth skin, tracing the lines of his muscles before finally wrapping around his length.

He let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling as he began to stroke himself, his thumb rubbing over the sensitive tip. His eyes never left yours, watching your reaction, his lips parted as he sucked in a breath, a shudder running through his body.

The sight made your mouth go dry, your eyes widening as you watched him, unable to look away. After a few seconds, he shuddered your name, his voice rough, needy. "Touch me," he panted, his eyes half-lidded, his gaze filled with desire.

You allowed him to guide your hand, wrapping your fingers around him, his own hand covering yours, his grip firm. A low, broken moan left his lips at the contact, his head tilting back slightly, his eyes closing for a moment.

You could feel the warmth of him, the way he twitched in your hand, the weight of him almost overwhelming.

Sitting up on your knees, you moved closer, your other hand resting on his strong thigh to steady yourself. Your thumb unconsciously brushed against his leg, the muscles tensing beneath your touch as you focused on holding him in your hand.

You looked up at him, your eyes questioning, unsure of what to do next. Charlie's gaze dropped to meet yours, his thumb reaching out to pull down your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he dipped it into your mouth for a brief moment. He let out a soft sigh, his voice almost a whisper. "Open wider," he instructed, his eyes fixed on you. "Drop your tongue, just like you're about to eat a popsicle."

You followed his instructions, your jaw dropping open, your tongue hanging out slightly, your eyes still locked on his. He hummed in approval, guiding your hand up, moving his length towards your awaiting tongue.

The tip of him brushed against your tongue, the taste salty, musky, as he rubbed the head across the surface, letting out an appreciative hum. He did this for a few seconds, his eyes watching every reaction you made, his lips curling into a small smile.

Slowly, he pushed himself further into your mouth, just an inch or two, his breath hitching as he watched you. "Close your lips around it," he murmured, his voice strained. "Suck."

You closed your mouth around him, your lips sealing around the head of his length, your tongue pressing against the underside. He let out a deep groan, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you in place. "Just like that," he whispered, his voice thick hoarse. "That's it... good girl."

You began to suck gently, your cheeks hollowing as you moved your head slightly, taking him in just a bit more. The taste of him filled your mouth, salty and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant.

His hips jerked slightly, a low moan escaping his lips as he watched you, his eyes dark, filled with lust. He guided you slowly, his hand on the back of your head setting the pace, his breathing growing more ragged with each passing moment.

"Use your tongue," he panted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Swirl it around the tip... yes, just like that." You did as he instructed, your tongue moving over the sensitive head, and he shuddered, his grip on your hair tightening, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. "God, you have no idea what you do to me," he muttered, his voice strained, his eyes locked on yours.

You continued to move, your hand stroking the base of him as you sucked, your other hand still resting on his thigh, your thumb brushing against his skin in a soothing motion.

His breaths came in short gasps, his chest heaving as he watched you, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted. He whispered your name, his voice filled with need, his hips rocking slightly, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

"You're perfect," he groaned, his head tilting back, his eyes closing as he lost himself in the sensation. "So good... just like that. Don't stop." His words were slurred, his voice thick with pleasure, and you could feel him throbbing in your mouth, the taste of him growing stronger as he neared his peak.

His hips began to move more, his breathing turning into short, desperate gasps, his hand guiding you, holding you in place as he chased his release. He muttered your name, his voice breaking, a mixture of moans and whispered praises filling the room as he lost himself to the pleasure.

When he finally came, the taste of him filled your mouth, his hips jerking, a deep groan escaping his lips as he held you there, his fingers tangled in your hair. He panted heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked down at you, his eyes dark, filled with something raw, something possessive.

Charlie reached down, his hand wrapping around your arm, pulling you up from your knees with a strength that left you breathless. He yanked you into a kiss, his lips crashing against yours, his tongue licking into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue.

He groaned against your lips, his hand moving to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devoured you, his kiss deep, consuming. His tongue moved against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he pulled back slightly, licking across your lips before placing a softer, lingering kiss there.

He pulled away, his eyes locking onto yours, a small, satisfied smile on his lips. Without a word, he lifted you, settling you back onto the table, his hands pushing up your habit, his gaze dropping between your legs as he knelt before you once again. "I need to prep you," he murmured, his voice husky, his hands sliding up your thighs.

His fingers reached between your legs, expecting to find the fabric of your underwear, but instead, they came in contact with your soaked folds. He let out a surprised sound, his eyes shooting up to meet yours, a brow raised in question. You released a huff, your cheeks flushing as you looked away, muttering, "It's laundry day..."

Charlie let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly, his lips curling into an amused smile. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your knee before his hands moved to push your thighs further apart, the stretch making your muscles burn slightly, the sensation both uncomfortable and thrilling. He held your legs open, his eyes fixed on you, watching your every reaction.

Before you knew it, his mouth was on you, his lips pressing against your sensitive flesh, a silent gasp falling from your lips, your eyes closing, your head falling back as your back arched off the table.

The feeling of his tongue moving against you, licking, sucking, made your thighs tremble in his hold, your fingers gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white.

He worshipped you with his mouth, his tongue moving with purpose, teasing your entrance, his lips closing around your clit, sucking gently.

One of his hands moved up, his fingers brushing against your entrance before slowly pushing inside, stretching you, his mouth never stopping, never hesitating. He worked you with a skill that left you breathless, every flick of his tongue, every gentle thrust of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your orgasm built slowly, a steady climb that made your whole body tense, every nerve ending alive with sensation. Charlie seemed to know exactly where to touch, where to kiss, how to move his fingers to bring you to the brink, his name falling from your lips in a breathless whisper, your body trembling, your thighs shaking around his head.

But just as you were about to fall over the edge, just as the pleasure was about to consume you, he pulled away.

A frustrated whine escaped your lips, your eyes opening, a mixture of confusion and need in your gaze as you looked down at him. He stood slowly, his eyes dark, a small smirk playing on his lips as he watched you, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your body aching for release.

Charlie licked his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached up, his fingers tilting your head back, exposing the line of your neck to him. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss just below your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. His other hand moved to wrap one of your legs around his waist, his fingers digging into your thigh as he held you against him, his body pressed tightly to yours.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Don't worry, Sister," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'll fill you back up and give you what you need." The words sent a shiver down your spine, your core clenching at the promise, a whimper escaping your lips.

Charlie reached between your bodies, his hand wrapping around his length, positioning himself. He rubbed the tip against your clit, the sensation making your body jerk, a gasp falling from your lips.

He moved slowly, dragging the head of his length up and down your slit, teasing you, your body trembling in his arms, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

Then, without warning, he pushed forward, bullying his way into you, the stretch almost unbearable.

You arched further into his arms, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, your body struggling to accommodate him. He let out a deep groan, his fingers tightening on your thigh, his other hand moving to grip your hip, holding you in place as he filled you completely.

His pace was brutal, each stroke long and deep, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, his hips slamming against yours. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, his voice low, rough, filled with need. "You... You feel so good... so tight around me," he panted, his words broken by soft moans. "I'm going to fuck you, fill you up until you can't think of anything else."

His hips snapped against yours, his movements rough, desperate, his body pressing you down against the table, his weight holding you in place. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Imagine it, Sister," he whispered, his voice dark, almost a growl. "A secret child... a product of our sin, of our blasphemy against the church." His words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your core clenching around him, your body reacting to the forbidden promise, the thought of it pushing you closer to the edge.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body tensing, your back arching as the pleasure consumed you, a silent scream on your lips. You could feel Charlie shudder above you, his thrusts growing erratic, his breath coming in short gasps as he chased his own release.

After a few more brutal strokes, he let out a deep groan, his hips pressing against yours as he came, his body tensing, his fingers digging into your skin.

He stayed there, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath hot against your neck as he tried to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. You could feel his heart pounding against your own, the room filled with the sound of your ragged breathing, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

You shivered as he began to pull back, the movement making you wince slightly, your body still sensitive from the intense pleasure.

His softening length slipped out of you, the feeling making you gasp softly, a mix of relief and emptiness settling in your chest. You felt the warm, sticky sensation as globs of his cum poured out, slowly dripping down your inner thighs.

You began to close your legs, thinking he was done, that he would put his clothes back on, but his hand stopped you, his fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, keeping you open.

Charlie lowered himself to his knees once again, his eyes fixed on you, a dark hunger still present in his gaze. Before you could understand what was happening, his mouth was on you, his lips pressing against your sensitive folds.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you felt his tongue, warm and wet, sliding through your slickness, lapping up the mixture of your release and his own. His groans were sinful, vibrating against you, his eyes fluttering closed as if savoring the taste.

Your brain raced, unsure of what to do or what to say, your body twitching beneath his touch, your legs instinctively trying to close, still overly sensitive from your previous climax. But Charlie's hands were strong, his grip firm as he held your thighs apart, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you open for him.

He was relentless, his tongue moving with purpose, his lips closing around your swollen clit, sucking gently, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

Your breaths came in short, desperate gasps, your fingers gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles white. You could feel the pleasure building again, a slow, steady climb that made your whole body tense, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

You couldn't hold back the soft whimpers and moans that spilled from your lips, your head falling back, your eyes closing as the pleasure consumed you.

When you came, it hit you like a final, blinding wave, your body arching off the table, your thighs trembling in Charlie's hold. A broken cry escaped your lips, your back arching, your eyes squeezed shut.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Your mind was clouded as the pleasure consumed you, the feeling like the flames of damnation licking at your skin. For I am burned by the fire of desire, a sinner in the eyes of heaven.

And you weren't sure if you minded at all.

A/N: ya know, i think my smut has gotten better, what do you guys think??? and to answer the upcoming question(s) i know will be asked: yes, this is the final part, i won't be continuing the 'Devotion' series/making it into a book 😔 i know, i know. i promise i want too, but knowing me, i tend to bounce around/start new projects out of nowhere, so if i didn't spend weeks planning before hand, it'll grow cold eventually, and i don't wanna put you guys through that 😩 but never fret, i will continue writing for father charlie 😝, he's just too versatile not to. see you guys soon ❤️❤️❤️.

[edens-pen]

i forgot to say that i did it

think i've said this before but the only way i can heal my religious trauma is by writing the most disgusting blasphemous priest!corruption!church smut ever — choked with the rosary, holy water spat back into your mouth, dick sucking in the confessional, like this is what will make me right again i promise

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 6

If You Told Me To

Azriel Eris x Reader

Eris has a little chat with Azriel. As Y/N braces herself to face her mate for the first time since leaving him - she calls in reinforcements. Eris calls in one of his own.

A/n: This is the second to last chapter of the series. Chapter 7 will be the final chapter followed by an epilogue. I have been excited to share this chapter as, lyrically, the song it’s titled after is one of my favorites. Enjoy!

Part 5 Part 7

Warnings: Language

The Shadowsinger sat chained in a cell beneath the Autumn Keep. Comfortably lit, temperature regulated, nothing egregious. There was a dark, selfish part of Eris that would not have minded a bit of suffering to befall the male, a little seemed fair given the hell he’d put Y/N through. But Eris couldn’t do that to her. Certainly there was a small part of the mating instinct that would have left her in pain to see her mate - a title he didn’t deserve - hurting.

Eris begrudgingly placed a glamour over her scent that clung to his skin like fine perfume, such a waste to cover it with his own autumnal blend. It was not his place to explain or unveil anything regarding the relationship between them, Eris would have to tread carefully in his questioning.

He almost, almost said “fuck the glamour” and let that intoxicating-as-hell summer storm scent of hers fill the air and marched straight to the dungeons in his sweats and a linen tee, let him see exactly what Eris had been up to all morning. The look on the Shadowsinger’s face would have been so damned satisfying.

Alas, he chose to play the part of pompous High Lord, dressing in the most lordly of attire.

“Well, well, well, what brings you to my humble abode, Shadowsinger? You could have just knocked.”

Azriel snarled through his gag, nose flaring. To put it lightly, he looked rough. His once golden skin paled, dark circles prominent beneath his eyes, and multiple large purple bruises littered his skin.

“Ah, right.” Eris cleared his throat, giving the tattered male before him a disapproving stare. With a quick flick of his wrist the gag disappeared.

“Just let me fucking talk to her.” Azriel growled, his shadows darkening the cell.

Eris inspected his cuticles, refusing to drop the air of irreverence he’d intentionally given off. “Who would you like to speak with, Shadowsinger?”

“You fucking know.” He growled, rage limning each word.

“Say her name.” Eris replied cooly. Needing to make a point to himself.

“Y/N.”

And in that moment Eris realized just how far gone he was in his desire for Y/N. It was dangerous, the fiery rage that burned through his chest at the sacrilege of her sacred name falling from his desecrated lips.

Though Eris refrained from any external display of that inferno blazing inside of him, the slight tick in his jaw must have given him away to the awaiting Spymaster.

Azriel pulled and jerked with all of his might against the chains and Eris was well aware of his power, the entire Autumn Court was. Eris had backup measures in place that - even with his contempt toward the male - he did not wish to use.

“Stop pulling on the chains, Azriel.” Eris commanded.

The use of his given name instead of Eris’ typical “Shadowsinger” caught Azriel’s attention and the look alone on the his face could have killed a lesser male as Azriel’s furious gaze met Eris’

“If you fucking hurt her, I will rip you apart limb by limb. I will make it slow-“

Eris cut him off. “Was it those theatrics that won her heart, Shadowsinger? Truly, you bore me.” Eris returned to examining his nails.

“Fuck you.” Azriel growled.

Eris would ask Y/N’s forgiveness later for what he was about to say. At least he’d made an honest effort to keep his feelings for her separate from the situation at hand.

Without missing a beat, the High Lord goaded, “Funny you should say that. Was it not your fucking around that put you in this position in the first place?”

Azriel lost it. Eris couldn’t recall a time in his centuries of living that he’d seen such display of rage. He yanked at the chains with all of his might, his centuries of strength training apparent as the sounds of the rage and the grinding of stone on metal filled the cell. His efforts nearly successful in ripping free from the wall.

“I’ve asked you once to quit pulling, Shadowsinger. You are in here with just cause and will answer as such. You can behave like a civil being or continue the brute act and I will be forced to take matters into my own hands.” With that, fire sparked and was contained within his palm.

Azriel banked slightly at the display and for a moment Eris felt a twinge of remorse as his eyes landed on those scarred hands.

“Spare me your pity, High Lord.” Azriel spat the title with venom.

Eris shook his head, pacing alongside the cell. “Oh but I do pity you, Shadowsinger. Not in the way I hold back my fire given your past circumstances, that is basic decency on my part.”

With a mock bow, he continued,

“What I pity is how you wage such concern over Y/N’s well-being within my palace walls while blatantly disregarding the fact that you are the one who broke her with your own two hands. And now that she has built herself back up shard by fractured shard into something far stronger, even more rare than the shining gem she already was, you appear like a thief in the night. What is your plan, Azriel? Are you here to break her again?

Eris stepped closer to the cell. Flame igniting those amber eyes as he crouched down face to face with the bound Shadowsinger, grounding out in a low, predatory tone. “Because you won’t this time. Diamonds don’t crush under pressure.”

And with that, Eris stood back up, placed his hands in his pockets, that casual irreverence once again masking his features. “And I find diamonds to be quite precious, so I’ll be sure to cherish mine with the tender, loving care that she deserves.”

Azriel seethed, shadows raging violently within the cell. And Eris wasn’t certain but he could have sworn that anger was directed at their master himself.

Eris waited for more violence, for the filth that would spill from his mouth but the Shadowsinger only hung his head low, and to Eris’ surprise, large, salty tears began falling from his face.

Eris said nothing as Azriel sobbed. Why kick the male when he’d already downed himself? So Eris stood and waited. Eventually Azriel looked up again, “Please, just let me talk to her.”

Eris paused, taking stock of the broken male before him.

Just when it appeared to Azriel that he’d deny him, Eris replied. “You are fortunate that your mate is far more benevolent than I, she has agreed to speak with you.”

Azriel let out a large, broken sigh of relief.

Eris only smirked. “But she has conditions.”

—————————

I don’t want to look back on these days, knowing all the things you’d never know if I never said a word and let you go.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N.” Eris spoke softly.

“I do, Eris. What he did, it’s too much. Too far. If you weren’t the ruler that you are, this might have been treated as an act of war.”

Eris shook his head. “You’re right. What he did is not acceptable by any means. But you, you shouldn’t have to deal with this after all you’ve been through.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” She spoke firmly.

He pulled her in closely, resting his chin on her head, those warm arms wrapped tightly around her easing the bitter cold threatening to frost her heart. “He never deserved you.”

Eris knew a mask when he saw one. Knew them far too well. Beneath the strong exterior she was presenting, his brave girl was nervous as hell.

I don't want to steal you away or make you change the things that you believe.

Eris escorted Y/N to a large meeting space by a roaring fire, sitting her at the head of the table, he to her right. One with a lesser sense of hearing might have missed the increase of her heart rate. That mask beginning to slip.

“Look at me, minx.”

Her glassy eyes met his as he reached forward, his hands enveloping hers. “You owe nothing to anyone. Nobody. Not to the Night Court, to my Court, or even to the Summer Court beyond what Tarquin has contracted you to do, and you especially owe nothing to the Shadowsinger.”

Her lip quivered and he spared her the discomfort of replying right away by continuing, “If it is your choice to hear him out, I commend you. You are far more brave and strong than you realize, and the fact that you are giving him your time today is an act of kindness in itself. Do not feel that you are obligated to comfort him or give your forgiveness.”

Eris lightly placed a broad palm on her chest. “What’s in there points true. Follow your heart, little fox. Do not do or say anything for anyone’s benefit but your own.”

Eris gave her the time she needed to collect her thoughts. His thumb brushed soothing strokes over the back of her hand as she composed herself.

Her voice cracked only slightly when she asked, “Is what I’m doing wrong? Are my conditions too harsh?”

Eris took a moment. Her heart racing like the best of a hummingbird’s wings as she awaited his response. He didn’t want to steer her any particular direction. Obviously, he wanted her by his side. Hell, he needed her by his side, she was as essential as water to him at this point. But her happiness and well-being mattered more than his needs.

He didn’t want her to go back to the Night Court as he knew Azriel would try convincing her to do. A selfish part of him begged to take her hand and bow on his knees before her. He was at her will and would serve her for the rest of his days should she only ask. But she needed to make this choice for herself. She was a summer storm, his little fox, who was he to stop her from flowing whatever direction she willed its winds to take her.

So, he wouldn’t ask her to stay or think of him at all during this meeting with her mate. However, he would emphasize what she likely already knew, that he had already fallen in love with her. That he fell in love with her spirit the moment that filthy string of curses fell from her pretty mouth when they met that first day. He wouldn’t pressure her by speaking those words aloud just yet, but he could show her in the best way he knew how given the circumstances, by empowering her.

“Y/N,” he broke the silence. “I meant what I told you. What you are doing today is brave. You are strong. To face a male who has not earned your time or presence in front of his own family to hear out his side of things, or whatever it is he wishes to say - you are so much stronger than you realize. Do not worry about what he or anyone at this table will think or feel. You hear him out and you choose what is right for you. The only person owed anything today is you and what you’re owed is peace. You deserve the world, fox.”

Those shining eyes of hers welled up. He lifted her chin with a long finger, “No tears, little one. You go in there and you take your power back. I will be out there.” He nodded toward a corridor to the eastern wing of the keep. “If you need anything at all, I’ll be waiting for you.”

She placed a delicate hand on Eris’ muscled bicep. “Eris…”

“Yes, fox?”

“I don’t want to do this alone.”

I want to drink from the words you say and be everything you need.

The creak of an oak door captured their attention. A sentry entered the room, his steps echoing throughout. “High Lord, Lady, the guests are arriving.” The sentry looked to Eris, “along with the guest you personally requested.”

Y/N turned toward Eris, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Bring her in.” He replied to the sentry, turning to face Y/N. “I thought you may want someone in your corner for this meeting.”

————-

Camila, Y/N’s sister, burst through the door, all bronze skin, bouncing black curls, and smiles. “Sister!!!” She squealed.

Y/N looked to Eris. Immense gratitude radiating from her lovely face. He nodded toward Camila, gesturing to go to her. The sisters ran to eachother, nearly tackling one another to the floor.

Camila giggled, gasping as she fought to catch her breath. “I saw a red-headed male outside with long hair, gorgeous tan skin, a wicked smile, and-“ she whispered not-so-subtly in her sisters ear “worship worthy thighs, handcrafted by the gods themselves.” She dropped the whisper act, continuing, “Oh my gods, Y/N, and a scar over his eye! Giving him that sexy mysterious look that you only ever read about in smutty novels.”

Eris choked as he realized who she was talking about, capturing the attention of Camila. “If I’d known what you were hiding here, High Lord, I’d have ventured over from the Summer Court much sooner.”

“I hate to disappoint you, Camila, but Lucien lives in the Day Court when he’s not at his apartment in Velaris.”

Camila’s mouth dropped into an “O” as she realized who the male was. “Well, onto the next one then. Who else are you hiding around here for me to fall in love with?”

The laughter was broken when the Oak Door opened again, a sentry announcing the next guests. “the High Lord of the Night Court and his general.”

Darkness suddenly overtook the room, and an instinctual part of Y/N caused her to pale. She’d very rarely seen Rhysand’s darkness so adamant, and it was never a good thing. Cassian kept a straight, stoic face, warrior’s stance on full display. This male, this was the Lord of Bloodshed and not the lovable giant she’d known for decades.

She remained frozen, Camila gasping in horror before deciding that she’d rather stare daggers at the brothers of the male who cheated on her little sister. Rhysand took in the room, paying no mind to Camila’s violent glare. When he realized Azriel was not in the room, his eyes landed on Y/N and the darkness immediately faded away. Rhys’ expression softened as he directed his footsteps toward her, opening his mouth to speak, but it was Cassian who yelled, “Y/N babygirl! Look at you!”

The giant male bound right past Rhys, running to her. Leaving no time for Y/N to brace herself as he whisked her up into a bone crushing hug, spinning her in circles. “Fuck, I’ve missed you. Never leave without saying goodbye again.”

As soon as Cassian said it, he faltered, gently setting her back down with his eyes downcast. “I had no idea, Y/N. We only found out the real reason why you left yesterday.”

Eris gave distance to the trio so she could speak with the males, Camila coming to his side. Eris couldn’t help smirking at the glare she gave to the Night Court’s High Lord and Cassian. He leaned in to her ear, his low voice barely a rumble, “I’d never admit this to them but while they are brutes, they’re not so bad.”

Camila only scoffed, waiving a dismissive hand in his direction.

It was true. Rhysand had given her space to heal but regularly sent check-in’s to the Summer and Autumn Court High Lords to ensure her well-being. Both Tarquin and Eris had to swear not to tell her, but Rhysand had contributed significantly to Y/N’s extremely generous salary as emissary between the courts. She didn’t know what emissary’s typically made so she never thought about it, but it certainly was not the substantial amount that she was being paid.

Once Cassian was finished fawning over his “favorite little ass-kicker” Rhys stepped forward.

“Y/N” he said. Eyes roaming up and down her body. She was more filled in and fit than she had been when he last saw her, the radiance had returned to her skin, the light in her eyes shone bright as the stars of Velaris. Gods, he’d forgotten the way his brother’s mate rivaled even the most vibrant of summer sunsets.

She held her chin high, meeting her former High Lord’s violet gaze. Rhys pulled her close and she melted into his arms. Not just her former High Lord but her friend. She knew this. And the warmth of his strong arms embracing her reminded her of exactly that.

That stinging rejection of Azriel’s betrayal had somewhat tainted her view of the Inner Circle’s love for her. They had accepted her into their little family immediately when she and Azriel mated and she thought they’d dismiss her just as quickly when she left.

His breaking of what they had did not change that the inner circle cared for her. Rhys held her close for nearly a minute, burying his face into the top of her head, whispering how sorry he was for not realizing just how awry things had gone with Azriel and Elain. She felt guilty for leaving them.

“Don’t you for one moment regret this, Y/N. You will always have a place in my home but there are bigger things in this world for you.” He nodded toward Eris briefly with a cheeky expression that felt a lot like understanding, approval even.

She swatted at him. “Get out of my head, busybody.”

“It was written all over your face, darling.” He shrugged.

Cassian cut in. “We wanted to come in first to assess the situation. Everyone else is in the entry hall. Are you sure about this, Y/N? You don’t have to see him if you’re not ready.”

Darkness flared around Rhys again as he nodded in agreement.

She stepped to Eris’ side with renewed confidence. “I’m ready.”

Eris commanded his sentries. “Go ahead and bring them in.”

Resisting the urge to press a parting kiss to her forehead, he gave a reassuring brush of his hand against hers and began to step away.

She grabbed his wrist. “Please, stay.”

Her pleading eyes spoke what she couldn’t “I can’t do this without you.”

So, he stayed by her side as they waited for the impending shit show to unfold.

I could be so good at loving you, but only if you told me to.

————————————————-

Tags: @going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study @chessebookgirl @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @crazylokonugget @mysticalfuncollectorus @starsinyourseyes @b0xerdancer-writes @inloveallthetime @thegirlinshadows101 @viistrength @grunchwench @starryhiraeth @macimads @feiwelinchen @acourtofbatboydreams @nebarious @haechansleafblower @melsunshine @thegirlintheshadows101 @plsfckmern

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Posting Update!!

The Vessel fic is done I just need to edit it!!!!!! Also on the cusp of being finished if I can make myself focus for more than 5 seconds...

Troubled Waters (Iceburg x Fem! Reader) FLUFF/SMUT - I just need to write the smut, which shouldn't be to difficult (that strange man is fine as hell I want to climb him like a tree).

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) pt. 10 - inspiration has struck! Production on this chapter has increased by 20%, and I'm a little over half way. All I would like to say about this update is I hope you're ready for more farmer IV.

The Baptism (Charles Greywolf x Fem! Reader) SMUT - Part 3 of The Sacrilege Series! I just need to write the smut, the set up is there, I'm just having some trouble with the flow.

Sacrament of The Night pt 1. - Terrified about posting this not gunna lie, the chapter is about half way done, we're meeting Isabella this chapter and getting a feel for the Village she's going to be spending her time studying in. This one will be out relatively soon, just... Nervous, nervous, nervous

Untitled Dave Miller Smut - Just need to write the smut, Dave's creepy and grungly enough straight from my brain

[myrefugeblog]

IDK

I was the same. But not only AOS was my gateway to Star Trek, but to fandom all together.

I remember that people side eyed a lot when people started by AOS, but I did worse things...

would it be sacrilegious to say that my first introduction to Star Trek was the 2009 or whenever movie.....

[bxriles]

I will never understand why this fandom abhors crackships. Like this is a series about faerie smut. You’d think crackships and multishipping would be the standard but nooo. That’s SACRILEGE and PROBLEMATIC and anyone who partakes in crackships is an ABUSE SYMPATHIZER. (That sounds fucking stupid, doesn’t it? That’s what some of you deadass sound like.)

We got people writing essays and attacking other people and sending DEATH THREATS for liking Rhysta and Neslin and Tamsand and Nyxlin (and bffr, nobody is genuinely shipping Tamlin with a literal baby ffs).

This fandom is so fucking vanilla and boring with how obsessed everyone is with canon and how so many people praise purity culture. Y’all are weird, sorry not sorry 🫶🏼

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven In Your Eyes || Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC (Heaven Lavey Shelby)

Additional content/Info: CLICK HERE

Fic Summary: He meets her at church one dreary night, guided by her singing. Her name? Heaven Lavey. White ivory hair, fair porcelain skin, and petite shape, this almost ethereal creature is Arthur's strict opposite. Yet, all it took was one dive into her heavenly eyes for him to be convinced God has sent His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul. The two lovebirds, obsessed with each other, are determined to live their love no matter people's judgments and no matter the dangers of a Peaky Blinder's life. They are together through the best and through the worst.

But behind her holy appearance and sweet facade, Heaven Lavey is dangerous. With rumors of witchcraft and murder, her shady past weighs on her shoulders. And if she is a blessing for Arthur Shelby, she will soon prove to be a curse for those who dare to stand in her and her husband's way. Even Thomas Shelby himself.

She is Arthur’s Angel, but don't get fooled by her doe eyes: for the rest of us, she is the White Devil.

And by extend, you are too.

Why? Because Heaven Lavey… It’s you.

TW: Major character death, explicit sexual content, canonical violence, graphic description of violence, blasphemy, witch trials and burning of innocent women, dependent relationship (if Arthur and Heaven are happy in their relationship, they are obsessed and possessive, which leads to bursts of violence and deifying from Arthur. By no means I am claiming their relationship is healthy, but it is what works for them)

ACT I. SACRILEGE

♢ Ch. 1 || Heaven in Your Eyes

♢ Ch. 2 || Never Did, Never Dared

♢ Ch. 3 || Something Wicked This Way Comes 🔞

♢ Ch. 4 || Dead Bird at Witchin Hour

♢ Ch. 5 || The Hell in His Eyes

♢ Ch. 6 || The One They Should Have Burned

♢ Ch. 7 || Of Matches and Gasoline 🔞

♢ Ch. 8 || Tango on Broken Dreams

ACT II. CARNAGE

♢ Ch. 9 || For Whom the Bells Toll

♢ Ch. 10 || Closer to Heaven or Closer to Hell? 🔞

♢ Ch. 11 || When The Bridges Burn

♢ Ch. 12 || As They Always Did

♢ Ch. 13 || Cross My Heart and Hope to Die

♢ Ch. 14 || Pure As a Lamb 🔞

♢ Ch. 15 || Women Like Me in a Men's World

♢ Ch. 16 || Après Moi le Déluge

♢ Ch. 17 || Our Old Friend Death (c o m i n g . . .)

♢ Ch. 18 || Il Diàvulu Biancu

♢ Ch. 19 || Empire of Lies

♢ Ch. 20 || The Fog of Silent Hills

ACT III.

♢ Ch. 21 ||

♢ Ch. 22 ||

♢ Ch. 23 ||

♢ Ch. 24 ||

♢ Ch. 25 ||

♢ Ch. 26 ||

♢ Ch. 27 ||

♢ Ch. 28 ||

♢ The series can be longer.

Some events from the show are taken and obviously reworked. Yet, except for a few quotes and scenes, everything else is imagined by the author.

Related works - in chronological order-

♢ From Blood We Will Grow

♢ To Bark and Bite

♢ Kaiser Meeting Cyril (requested)

♢ A Bone to Pick With It (requested)

♢ Perfect Lines

♢ Savage Daughter

♢ A Slice of Us (Modern!HYE)

♢ Love Ritual (@zablife's celebration)

♢ The Woods Whisper 1, 2 (Halloween Horror)

♢Little Lamb 1, 2, 3 (Yandere!AU)

Moodboards and other content

♢ Playlist

♢ Moodboard Aesthetic

♢ Moodboard Chapter 6

♢Heaven In your Eyes Act II trailer

♢ Moodboard Chapter 12

♢ Heaven in your Eyes chapter 16 trailer

Looking for more? Check out Heaven's masterlist I and II.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @he6rtshaker @bemyqueenofdarkness @cljordan-imperium @cjarbo @red-riding-wood @rysko @lokigirlszendaya

[baby-steps-bindery]

iconoclasts by rowanisawriter

AUTHOR COPY HAS SAFELY ARRIVED🙏🔥🔥🔥

which means I can finally share my bind!

Another classic book look! Which was perfect for this bind especially, on account of its themes of sacrilege, blasphemy, and doubt.

The cover art is “Saint Veronica with the Veil” by Mattia Preti. When I saw it, I knew it was The One—it made me think of Mira looking up fearfully in face of Mystra’s perceived wrath.

(I wish I could’ve included the blood-stained cloth shaped in Jesus’s face, but you win some, you lose some.)

As for the typeset, here it is:

I’m so proud of it—I think it’s the best typeset I’ve done so far! 

All the chapter images are from the public domain, by French artist, Maurice Denis. Each were carefully selected to suit each story. I’m especially a fan of the art I chose for heretic’s Act I and Act III.

Now, the dust flaps:

Fun fact: the “follow Rowan on tumblr” section is inspired by Megan Whalen Turner, since on the edition I have of her book only lists tumblr as her social media which is so iconic🤣💖

Thank you @rowanisawriter for letting me typeset this, but also for writing this series, thereby dragging me into BG3 fandom and allowing me to meet all my new friends! Will always be grateful for that💖

With love, 

Emi xoxo

[2004hitalbumsevenswans]

I really enjoyed Batman: Caped Crusader. I was worried (like everyone else) that Bruce Timm would push his Bruce/Barbara obsession, but they barely interact when Bruce is out of costume, and he’s all business as Batman. Barbara is (presumably) about the same age as Bruce in this adaptation, she’s a young public defender, who still lives at home with her dad. Commissioner Gordon is mentioned to have 30 years on the Gotham police force at one point. And the series is loosely based on Batman: Year One by Frank Miller, and has Matt Reeves as a producer. It’s definitely an interpretation of the early years of Batman.

The setting is vaguely and aesthetically set in the 1940s, mirroring the original Batman and riffing on DC comic stories and character interpretations from that time. Clayface’s story and appearance is based on the original interpretation of the character, which I really enjoyed - especially as someone’s who’s read the first couple years of the original Detective Comics/Batman stories. (There’s also a lot of great references to the Adam West show, and a couple of its themes are reimagined for this more noir story.)

I could see the series setting up something between Bruce and Barbara potentially, but their interactions are really blink-and-you’ll-miss-it. There’s a moment where Bruce’s is climbing back onto the Iceberg Lounge yacht and he uses a pick up line on her, which she scoffs at, then he proceeds to use the line on two other young women. There’s another moment that you could say is pre-flirting, or is at least setting up a foundation to further a relationship between the two. Where Barbara makes a comment about Batman letting himself into her office unannounced whenever he feels like it, and she tells him she needs a way to contact him, and he gives her the Batphone number. At this point I think you could make more of an argument for a Harleen/Barbara pairing than her and Bruce.

I think the characters would both individually need a lot more development to be in a romantic relationship. I’ll say this even though I know it will be an unpopular opinion: in this interpretation I wouldn’t mind putting Bruce and Barbara together. I know that’s practically sacrilege coming from someone who’s favourite character is Oracle but hear me out.

My main issues with Bruce and Barbara together (especially when it comes to Timm’s work) is the age difference. It’s often debated but Barbara in most iterations (including current comic canon) is around the same age as Dick, usually a couple of years older, 2-3 at most. Bruce is depicted as having at least 15 years on her, if not more. And most stories that have Bruce and Barbara together also fixate on her being batgirl. Then there’s the tendency to make a Nightwing-Batgirl-Batman love triangle which I don’t want to get into but I hate completely.

None of that is happening here. Barbara has her own storylines that are just as prominent as Bruce and Harvey’s. She’s an adult with agency and flaws and is just as fleshed out as any of the other characters are. I wouldn’t be surprised if the show takes a season or two to develop a romantic relationship between the two of them. Bruce is completely focused on being Batman and sees Bruce Wayne as a persona. He’s callous with peoples feelings (Harvey, notably) and is shown to struggle with smaller acts of empathy, opening himself up to people, and honestly, social skills. The last of which doesnt doesn’t affect him too negatively because he’s a rich and well known man in Gotham.

Compared to the Bruce Wayne of BTAS it was a smart choice to show a Bruce/Batman who struggles with people and emotions. It reminded me a lot of Reeves’ the Batman. In wider Batman media you usually see two types of depictions: a compassionate Batman (which is where I would place BTAS) or a more emotionless, be-stoic-and-punch-the-bad-guys-and-look-badass version that is usually just a male power fantasy.

This version of Batman sets up the foundation for a storyline that is relatively unexplored, and I’m sure they’re going to explore it more in the next season (which has already been greenlit).

I was surprised at the lack of adult themes in the show, it was marketed for an adult audience but could easily fit into a PG13 rating, but that was probably on purpose. I was impressed they managed to have so many strong, fleshed out storylines in only 10, 30 minute episodes. But I wouldn’t expect anything less of Bruce Timm, or some of the other names I recognized attached to the project in various ways (Greg Rucka, JJ Abrams, Matt Reeves, and Ed Brubaker).

While there are a lot of critiques of Timm I agree with, I generally enjoy his work and the care he puts into it. I love Greg Rucka and was really excited to see that he wrote the episode that was more Renee Montoya centric. And while I have my issues with Ed Brubaker, I do enjoy his work.

While the series is visually and technologically based around the 1940s, the politics are more modern. Harleen asks Renee out on a date and she talks about it with Barbara openly. I saw one review call the show “race blind” which I would not agree with. Most of the racism is implied through euphemism (the scene with Lucius Fox and Gentleman ghost), but it’s still felt as a point of friction for multiple characters, it affects how they interact with the world around them. There’s also a line spoken by either detective Flass or Bullock that implies no one in the GCPD wants to follow Renee because she’s gay. It’s cut off before the last word, but again, the meaning is implied.

An issue I always had with the Timmverse is its depictions of female characters. They always feel less real than their male counterparts, less important and less visually stylized. All the important (read: desirable) women have the same body shape. They’re thin and extremely, unnaturally curvy. I’m aware that these characters are supposed to evoke that 50s comic pinup imagery but I always thought it was a bit much. Male characters - even before the animation downgrade in BTAS season 4 - were always way more unique from each other than the female characters. That wasn’t something I felt with Caped Crusader. The three most prominent female characters (Barbara, Renee and Harleen) were all different from each other, with different heights, body shapes, hair and clothing styles. They also all had 3 distinct personalities that were built up through the series. I would argue that the show was as much about the “supporting cast” (characters like Harvey, Commissioner Gordon, Renee and Barbara) as it was about Batman.

Overall I was really impressed by the show. I was disappointed with how short it was. I hope that Renee’s personal life gets a focus with the next season, and I hope they bring back Greg Rucka to write it. I love how he wrote her in Gotham Central. I was a little annoyed that they introduced the Joker at the end of the series (as a peak into the next season). I think he’s too over saturated as a character, and sometimes his introduction into a Batman story takes over everything else, and he’s depicted as Batman’s Moriarty. I do have hope that this won’t happen in Caped Crusader, because it seems that villains will be reoccurring, but there’ll be a large cast, just like in BTAS. That aspect did remind me of the way characters were introduced in those early Batman comics, it really has the same vibe. I also really really do not want Harley to be involved with the Joker in any way. Please keep her as a separate character, this new interpretation of her is great as is, he doesn’t need to be involved.

I would also be interested to see if the show develops Barbara’s character into Oracle. I could see that happening with the introduction of the Joker at the end of season one. Maybe they’re going to rework the Killing Joke? I couldn’t see them having her as batgirl, but I would be interested to see how they worked Oracle into a world with 1940s technology. I’m thinking back to her as Oracle in the Doom that Came to Gotham, and how clever that was. I’m sure they could do something just as interesting with her here. Something more supernatural feels like a long shot, because Timm usually sticks to the more “realistic”, street-level versions of Batman, but they did introduce Gentleman Ghost. So it’s a possibility.

One thing I did think could have been better was some of the voice work. Not the voice acting itself, but the design. It felt too polished alongside the score and the animation. I wish the voice acting had been more atmospheric, had more depth. It felt too clean. Hamish Linklater was great as Bruce/Batman. Following Kevin Conroy is no small feat, and Linklater’s performance felt reminiscent of Conroy without sounding like an impression. It was quiet and unassuming, yet strong.

I’m not usually someone who watches things more than once, but I’m definitely going to be rewatching Caped Crusader soon.

[sterekbigbang]

A sacrilege to keep it a secret (21,275) by @sunny-bunny04 (babisays) Art by @celilasart For @sterekbigbang 2023-2024, Round 6 Rating: General Relationships & Characters: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Vernon Boyd Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nymphs & Dryads, Underwater, Identity Reveal, Getting Together, Literal Sleeping Together, Season/Series 04, Episode: s04e04 The Benefactor (Teen Wolf TV), Secret Identity, Creature!Stiles, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is a Softie, Panic Attacks, Drowning, Cabin Fic, Road Trip

Summary: Stiles has a secret he's been keeping from everyone his entire life. But Derek is starting to notice the fact that he'll never go near a body of water when other people are around and he keeps saying that he's really bad at swimming. Derek knows that's a lie because he was able to hold him up in a pool for three hours straight. Stiles knows his secret is a ticking time bomb and at some point, everyone will know it. But he quite likes being the human of the pack. Even though Derek and he know that he isn't. Derek just wants to figure out exactly what he is.