#stupid pathetic vampire priest | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redvelvetnat · 3 years ago

Text

flowers grow out of my grave

vampire!natasha romanoff x wife!reader

summary : natasha and her all-female vampire coven make a point of their hatred towards humanity. but she has her own reasons for keeping you, her loving and devoted human wife, from joining in her living death. word count : 4.3k

disclaimer : 18+, strong language, murder of a priest, a fuck ton of lore, smut, blood kink + sucking, dirty talk (praise + degradation + pet names), fingering, hair pulling

author’s note : gif source. i was really not in a good headspace to write for a long time. this pile of flaming garbage is my gift. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3

It started with an orgasm.

That was the deal - the rule Natasha set when the two of you got married. If she wanted blood from you, she was going to have to give something first. What better to give than an earth shattering orgasm? - she figured.

This deal was an inconvenience to neither of you, unless, of course, either was interrupted before the other. In which case, Natasha was burdened with an incurable sort of hunger.

Most unfortunately for her, tonight was one of those nights.

You find yourself standing outside one of the cells in the castle’s dungeon, holding yourself against the stone wall on shaky legs and the taste of your cum still lingering on your wife’s tongue, which swipes angrily over her extended fangs.

The priest, if his cassock and Natasha’s blatant overuse of the title father is anything to go by, trembles on his knees in front of her - a position, it’s safe to say, you’d much rather find yourself in.

Natasha would agree. As someone who’s been longing to sink her teeth into you for a number of hours, her only goal is to relieve herself of the hunger that burns ever hotter inside of her.

“Father,” she starts, “I have severely more importantly things to worry about than a priest who doesn’t know how to keep his fucking nose out of my business. Surely, that’s no surprise to you?” Her nails, nearly as sharp as the fangs protruding past her lips, are sunk into either side of his jaw.

He chokes on a plead when he looks up at her, ‘please don’t kill me, my people, they need me’, but his cries are inefficacious. Natasha has never cared much for priests, and her patience is a candle in the wind on a good day.

“Your people,” she hisses through a tight jaw, “would be disappointed in how fucking pathetic you look right now.” He cycles through a number of different emotions in the seconds that follow - hopelessness, exasperation, disgust.

When he swings his hand forward to catch the rim of her boot, no one bats an eye. Her sensitive ears only twitch at the rattling of the chains connecting his wrists and the sharp end of her heel locks his binds against the floor.

Hot tears roll down the apples of his cheeks and splash onto the cement below. “Ow - please!” If he’s looking for someone to take pity on him, he won’t find them here.

“Quit your stupid fucking crying.” She plucks a maroon-colored cloth from her breast pocket and shoves it into his slobbering mouth but he only continues to blubber stubbornly through the thick fabric.

She stops to think, or pretend to at the very least, and a blind hope rushes onto his face. You almost feel sorry for him as you watch him cling onto the idea that he could make it out of this alive.

If his crimes, which you’re still unsure of but certainly won’t ask about, aren’t enough to drive your wife into a murderous rage, his irritatingly loud whimpering will be.

He’s fucked, to put it plainly.

The tension is thick and you hold your breath - watching between your lover, the quivering priest, and the four women who stand, silently, against the far wall. Then, a sadistic smile curls onto Natasha’s features, “Dispose of him.”

All at once, three of the four women launch themselves towards him; brandishing their fangs and sinking them into his flesh. You expel a breath, his screams intertwine with the mewling of satisfied beasts.

Without anything more, Natasha turns on her heel to call for the only woman who remains at the wall, ‘Maximoff, come along’, and takes your hand in route to the stairs.

The young brunette attaches herself to your trail, looking as if she had never seen anything so disturbing in her life and you figure - it being her first day in the castle - that she probably hadn’t.

The three of you remain silent through the first few halls, accompanied only by the soft echo of your footsteps and the whisperings of centuries-old ghosts. Natasha liked it this way, quiet enough to finally gather the thoughts in her head.

After a few corridors, Wanda speaks up, “So you’re really Natasha Romanoff?”

It wasn’t hard to tell that she was young, probably the youngest you’ve ever seen in Natasha’s coven. And, with her age, came a sort of curiosity that most of the women had lost long before they reached the castle.

Natasha, unbothered by the brunette’s youthful energy, rounds the corner with her doe-eyed new companion at her heels, “My father was a healer who dabbled in dark magic. He turned me by accident when I was a child.”

She looks back, only briefly, to check that Wanda is still listening, “He built this castle and the village below it to protect people like us.”

It sounded so mundane the way she told it - without all the gore and sorrow that came with being ‘alive’ for thousands of years and destined to do so for thousands more.

“The village too?” Wanda questions curiously, eyebrows furrowing as she tries to keep herself from falling too far behind the two of you. “In the beginning - yes. But it has been long overrun by mortals. This castle is our only true sanctuary, now.”

Dramatic as she is - and she is dramatic - she’s right. The list of living, breathing humans who could cross the threshold into Natasha’s home and live to remember it is incredibly short.

In fact, so few people had ever seen the inside that it had become a sort of tale for the villagers of Alianovna. They had, affectionately, named it The Midnight House; an endearing title for a place that regularly played setting to most (if not all) of their modern ghost stories.

Anyone who had ever stepped foot inside the local pub had likely fallen prey to the bartender - Sir Odinson, he called himself - going on and on with his tales of the unusually pale beings that lived in The Midnight House.

Of course, no one had ever really taken his stories seriously besides the hordes of women who crowded one end of the bar to fawn over the muscled beast of a man.

‘Petrifying creatures - vampires.’ He’d say with a mouth full of cheap whiskey, ‘First time I ever saw one, I was half-way up the mountain with nothing but a trekking stick to defend myself.’

And the women, who never listened very well past all the heroic parts anyway, would collectively swoon - ‘you’re so brave, Thor!’, and ‘you poor thing!’ and ‘please, keep going, sir!’.

He’d curl his finger around the neck of his shirt and pull it down to reveal a single, jagged scar along the crest of his collarbone, ‘only left with this, now’, although it had always looked more like a messy knife wound than a bite.

You often dreamed of watching his audience’s faces if you ever stopped him, mid story, to explain that, not only was their village littered with the creatures they had all become so afraid of, but that it was built for them and named after their leader - Natasha Alianovna Romanoff.

“What about you?” Wanda asks suddenly, eyebrows tight with curiosity, “Have you been one of us for long?” She’s innocent in her curiosity but Natasha hardens and you can feel her rising tension through the vice grip she has on your hand.

Wanda is too young - still trying to make sense of her newfound strength, incurable thirst, and the millions of sounds rushing through her ears at all times - so it doesn’t surprise you that the sound of your beating heart is lost on her.

You only give her a smile, “I’m human, Wanda.”

The utter surprise that follows is expected, the way she chokes on her words and halts to a stop in the middle of the foyer. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. It does, however, upset your wife.

You allow Wanda a moment of silence to collect herself but Natasha beats you to breaking it. Never late to your defense, she swivels on one heel with her teeth already barred and eyes glowing red as she looks down on the wide-eyed young fledgling.

“Human or not,” she snarls, “she is still part of this coven’s leadership and will be treated with respect. Do I make myself clear, Maximoff?” The fear is apparent on Wanda’s face and she can do nothing but nod stupidly under her superior’s harsh stare.

Though she means well, you know Natasha will only do more harm in trying to intimidate Wanda this way. You sigh gently, squeezing her hand in yours, “I think she gets the point, Tasha.” You assure in a whisper, trying to ease her down slowly

As the tension melts begrudgingly from between her shoulders, you redirect her to the set of large wooden doors at the end of the hall - adorned with the Romanoff family crest in all its glory.

Wanda catches your eyes for only a second and you attempt to calm her nerves with a silent reassurance as two well-dressed, male servants pull the doors open for the three of you.

The apologies that had been brewing in Wanda’s chest melt when she meets the two glimmering silver thrones that stand proud against one wall, both stitched with the same maroon fabric that accents most of the castle.

Your hand grazes over the garnet spider pin at the chest of your wife’s blazer before you part with a chaste kiss. She diverts, Wanda by her side, to a corner of the room where Carol, Maria, and Sharon are still cleaning the priest’s blood off their mouths.

As they reacquainted themselves with Wanda, fed and mostly satisfied, no one is oblivious to Wanda’s failed attempts to take quick peeks of you. The three women each send you inquisitive glances that you dismiss with a wave of your hand.

Her eyes focus, mostly, on the lively skin of your face and her ears are suddenly attuned to the beating of your heart - all things you already expect from the vampires you meet.

Maria, ever your protector, has already puffed her chest in much the same way Natasha has and the other two are quick to follow. Admittedly, it takes a great deal of effort for you not to laugh at their antics.

You wonder if Wanda will have the courage to ask her superiors the questions that burn in her throat - ‘why’d she let a mortal into the castle?’ and ‘why hasn’t she turned her yet?’

Natasha still looks unsure when she joins you at her own throne, moments later. “Give her time, Natasha. This is how it always goes.” You whisper softly against the sharp edge of her jaw.

Maybe it’s because she meets your eyes, then, or she knows your words have truth to them; but her eyes flash a loving amber color. She had spent so long loving you that it rarely occurred to her that anyone could…not.

“You’re right.” She finally murmurs. You only smile at her admission, “Of course I am. Now, how about you get to it? I know all of you are excited to feed.”

“Ladies,” her eyes light up as she stands, waiting for the scattered women to turn their strayed attentions back to her, “Tonight, you must remember your own safety above all else. I’ve received word of a new gang of hunters in the area and we cannot afford to lose any more of us.”

Eyes shift nervously across the room, every woman painfully aware of Natasha’s grim history with vampire hunters. “So, while I do encourage you all to feed to your cold heart’s content, please be smart and stay close to one another.” Excitement rises in their eyes.

“As soon as Wanda is escorted to her living quarters and acquainted with the rest of you, your night may commence.” Everyone twitches to look in the direction of their newest addition, uncertainty looming in the air.

Wanda retreats into herself at the attention and you only clear your throat, “You are dismissed. All of you.” Their exits are swift; courteous nods, soft bids farewell, and a whisper of ‘play nicely’ from you to the three woman who haven’t stopped eyeing Wanda suspiciously.

Natasha makes no effort to move as she watches them part and waits for the sweet silence to blanket the room once more. Watching her collapse into an exhausted heap on her throne, overwhelmed by stress and hunger, causes an ache to settle in your heart.

The truth was a harsh reality; that, as long as you were alive and well, Natasha would always be assured a stable food source. But the same guarantee did not extend to the rest of her coven, no matter how dangerous it got for them to hunt.

“They’ll be alright, Tasha. They’re smart women.” Is all you offer. It won’t help, you both know that as well as the other, but she appreciates the effort above anything. You decide to give her a moment, choosing instead to move towards the window where you can see the moon just beginning to rise over the mountains.

Shadows sprint into the darkness, quick as lightning and eerily indistinguishable. It will, without a doubt, be a long night of distant screams and unexplained blood splatters that the maids will curse them all for in the morning.

You become sickeningly aware of your own aliveness as you watch them all disperse into the village to prey on the unsuspecting townspeople. Your heart, which had otherwise felt idle in your chest, rises to your throat and begins to pound unusually hard.

A rush of cold blankets the air behind you, “That pretty heart of yours beating that hard just for me?” Her voice comes against the shell of your ear; quiet and soft and playful and all the things that make your spine twitch with excitement.

She lowers her head to your neck, listening closely for the flow of blood through your veins, and presses a kiss to the source of your pulse.

“You know what I think, petal?” It’s not a question - not really. She’s going to tell you no matter what and you’ll be defenseless against your attraction to the tone in her voice, anyway.

She’s towering over your smaller frame when you spin to look at her; face darkened by the shadows of the moon and eyes wild. She’s getting hungrier - and needier by default.

“I think you look absolutely delicious.” You could laugh at her. Though it’s, technically, a compliment, you roll your eyes at the poor attempt to soften you up. You know how badly she wants to feed - to quench that thirst - but she also loves you too much to let you think that it’s all she cares about.

“All helpless and delicate, just flesh and bone. Fuck, I really could just eat you up. That excites you, doesn’t it?”

The beating of your heart gives you away. Her voice is dark, much darker than it had been all day and you know the hunger is mostly to blame but that doesn’t stop the pathetic whimper that unhitches itself from your throat.

Would it be so wrong to agree?

You’re prepared to speak, to argue that you aren’t that sick or twisted - even if you are. But she pressed a faint kiss to your collarbone and pushes her thumb past your parted lips, effectively muffling any response.

Her eyes, glowing in the partial darkness, lock onto your lips as they enclose around the digit. She probes at your tongue, her chin lifting just enough for her to have to look down on you. “That’s it - that’s a good girl.”

The praise does little to quell either of your excitement, and the heat swelling between your legs almost startles you. Still wet and glistening with your spit, her finger makes a distinct pop when she retracts it and traces it over your bottom lip, “Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask.” You assure her, just as hungry for her attention as she is to give it to you. But a smirk curls across her lips, “I want to hear you say it.”

Something akin to a whine leaves your throat and you can only hope that the ‘kiss me, please just kiss me’ that follows is enough to satisfy her.

To your relief, she surges forward almost immediately; all teeth and tongue when she delves into your mouth to explore anything and everything she can reach. It’s a filthy montage of hungered kisses.

The thoughts in your head are loud to her - the soft ones, the eager ones, the ones that scream for her to do whatever she pleases and she can hear every single one of them.

Her hands are just as curious as her mouth, exploring the same skin she’d spent years worshiping by now. The broken plead for more that leaves your throat and falls between the two of you does not go unnoticed.

You want this equally as bad as her. You want to feel her attach herself to you in the most intimate form of love making that she is physically capable of. But that isn’t going to stop her from enjoying you for as long as she can make it last.

It’s a slow practice of her parting from your mouth; retracting, coming back to give you gentle pecks, then retracting again. When she finally pulls away, she picks you up with the strength of a God and carries you in her hands, like a feather, to your thrones.

Your chest heaves as she sinks onto her knees in front of you and a moment of clarity breaks the arousal-induced enchantment that had fallen over you, “We can’t. Not here, Natasha. What if-”

She isn’t listening, her fingers are already digging under the fabric of your clothes to rip them away. “If what, petal? If someone catches us? If someone sees you all spread out for me and practically begging to be fucked until there’s nothing left in that pretty head of yours?”

You aren’t begging - you want to argue, but then she’d only make you beg to prove a point. Her hand is stroking over the apple of your cheek in a way that makes you just want to melt into her. Maybe you could find it in yourself to save the bratty act for later.

“A slutty little thing like you wouldn’t really mind getting caught here, now would you?”

You expel the air from your lungs but no words follow, just a pathetic blubber of nonsense. She’s not letting you off as easy as you had hoped she would. Her signature smirk flashes across her face, “Say it.”

You know what she wants from you, just as you know she won’t give you what you want until she gets it. “I’ll be good.” You whine, the sound high in your throat and, in one desperate breath, you add, “I’ll be so good, please Natasha.”

“See? How hard was that, baby? Now, be still. I don’t want to hurt you.” Maybe a part of her did want to hurt you, if only to see the excitement flare in your irises. But there are too many ways this could go wrong once her fangs come into play and that scares her too much.

Her tongue presses against your pulse point, feeling it throb from under the skin, and fingers stroke teasingly over the soaked cotton of your underwear but only to distract you long enough to finally sink her fangs into the flesh of your throat.

A hiss escapes your mouth but the pain is long gone before you feel it. It never really hurt, not when Natasha is so gentle the way she always is; taking her time to soften the skin with her tongue.

She is ever so gentle, even as every instinct she has ever harbored is telling her to drink! drink! drink! until she can’t possibly drink any more. One hand cradles the back of your neck, keeping the skin exposed to her as she sucks the warm blood from your veins.

Sparks shoot down the length of your limbs, “Fuck, Nat.” The combination of excited flutter in your heart, whiny undertone of your moan, and the way your fingers curl into her biceps is enough to make her growl.

“Don’t.” You can feel the vibrations of her words as she pulls you closer to her, “I can’t stop myself when you do that.”

You shutter, a sick mixture of fear and excitement. It’s way too dangerous to test her, now, but fuck did you want to. Her hunger is dangerous, the type of dangerous that draws the line between your life and an untimely death but it would take a lot more than a death threat for you to care.

Your longing whisper of her name is relatively soothing to her but the rush of flesh blood that floods her mouth at the same time only makes it impossible to stifle the moan that rises in her throat.

Warmth spreads over you from the inside, creeping up your neck and down your shoulders simultaneously. Her two fingers begin to probe at the sloppy entrance of your cunt and you can only hold on tighter to keep yourself from collapsing. “Fucking slut, so fucking messy.”

Maybe it’s because of the two fingers that sink inside you or the electric feeling of her fangs hooked into your throat but a fog blankets your head as dizziness mingles with overwhelming pleasure.

It only becomes harder to keep track of her movements and time is an illusion when she retracts her fangs to separate from your neck in one swift motion.

You chase after her blindly, giving neither of you time to unwind. Your tongue swipes at the corners of her mouth, cleaning your own blood from where it drips down her chin. A deep, animalistic growl leaves her chest and she curls her fingers inside you to reward the filthy sentiment.

“Fuck, you did so good for me, petal.” She praises, her fangs fully retracted into her teeth but you can feel the ghost of them still lingering in you. She moves to pepper kisses along the unmarked skin at the other side of your neck, “I wanna feel you. Let me make you cum, baby.”

The gentleness has returned to her voice, a reflection of the long-awaited satisfaction she’d been seeking for the better part of the day. You only tighten around her expert fingers, watching a different kind of need flash through the green of her irises.

“Please.” You whine and it’s all the permission she needs before she begins her gentle rhythm; using her fingers to collect your arousal and spread it over your clit, before they disappear inside the twitching walls of your abused cunt - over and over again.

You lose the energy to hold yourself upright and you only hope that your wife gets the memo before your head falls against the back of her throne.

She knows what to do just like the first or millionth time that you’d slept together. She knows how to press at the sensitive skin of your breasts, how to curl and fight against your tightening walls to keep your hips craning in search of more.

Your mouth gargles with mindless pleadings - ‘please, Tasha, oh please make me cum, I want to cum for you so bad, please Nat’.

Who is she to deny herself the pleasure of watching you cum - neck stained with a mixture of her lipstick and your own blood, head thrown back against the maroon fabric of her throne, and muscles shaking with the force of the pleasure she’s giving you?

She knows how to get you there, she’s studied your body for so long that she’s sure she deserves some kind of diploma.

She pushes a third finger into you, “So messy, petal. All from letting me use you like the perfect little servant you are - exactly what you were made to do. You like when I take what I want from you, baby? You’re always just so eager and so fucking good at giving it to me.”

Even if you didn’t shout the desperate strong of ‘yes!’s into the air, the rush of arousal that drips down the palm of her hand gives you away all the same. Her free hand fondles with your hair, tugging and pulling just enough to keep you dizzy.

The sweet pain sends you over the edge.

The orgasm is explosive and sudden, like jumping out of a plane without a parachute and hoping she’ll be there to catch you. Your muscles throb, the puncture wounds left in your throat ache, you twitch and crane and chase after her fingers so recklessly that she has to use much of her strength to hold you still.

“Shh, it’s alright. Good girl. My good girl.” She talks you down gently, speaking into the dip in your chest as she sprays the skin with wet kisses. You heave in desperation and the release of it, body fighting to regain control and stabilize your nerves that buzz with excitement.

Through half-lidded eyes, you can see her looking up at you with pride glistening in her still-glowing eyes. The blood that rushes through your ears burns but you can still hear her whispering firm proclamations of her love for you.

“You and me, we’re gonna live forever, petal.”

#rvn : sydwrites #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff

1K notes · View notes

conteur-writeblr · 3 years ago

Text

Have Faith

Written for the @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt :

(Content warnings: very very brief mention of pedophilia, religious themes but not the central point.)

* * *

“What’s got you so down, demon?”

Noël looked up. The vampire had appeared nearby without a sound. Its tall dark shadow was standing a little off to the side, as if weary to keep a distance between them, but its red eyes glinted in the dark like two merry jewels. It sounded utterly remorseless. Noël would have been tempted to call it the devil, had she not known any better.

“There was no need to do what you did.”

“You might want to be more precise.”

“Father Gabriele was a good man,” Noël heavily said.

The night’s events had ceased stampeding through her, but her insides remained crushed, and she could feel the lingering dread pulling her down in the depths of a great fatigue. Thought she felt a lust for ripping those red glinting eyes and that single-dimpled grin out of that pretty face, it was only a dim echo of a rage dampened by grief, and she did not have the strength to attack the vampire again.

The vampire laughed. “Oh, come now. That priest was as good as his cute little choir boys were untouched.”

“You dare…”

“Yes, I do. Look at yourself! He wouldn’t have been half as kind if you’d looked a few years older. Did you cut your own hair? Did you choose your own clothes? I never would’ve known you were a girl if he hadn’t called you one.”

“He was a good man.”

“He was a human. A weak, snivelling, pathetic human, just like the others. They’re all the same.”

“They are not. Have some faith,” Noël spat at the vampire.

“How amusing that you, a demon, should say this. Did your human friend use to tell you that? They’re big on faith, those priests.”

The vampire’s smug smirk was unbearable. Noël pressed her lips together tightly and turned away. In her head rang the words Father Gabriele had spoken when they’d met face-to-face for the first time.

A demon, you say? Truly? You are the one I’ve been hearing all these nights, the one responsible for the shuffling, the creaking, the misplaced candles and rosaries?

She remembered her own voice, how it had trembled with uncertainty beneath the weight of years and years of painful loneliness when she’d answered: Yes, father.

She remembered how Father Gabriele’s handsome face had clouded over in thought. He hadn’t backed away in fright. He hadn’t narrowed his eyes in anger. Noël had felt that this man was different, and so she had begged him. It had been a desperate cry for help, one that she hadn’t fully expected him to hear and much less to understand. From within that small alcove she’d trapped herself in to repent and pay for her sins, amidst the crosses which burned her skin and the glowing candles which hurt her eyes, Noël had pleaded: Please help me.

The silence that followed lasted only for a heartbeat. A gentle smile had graced Father Gabriele’s lips.

What is your name, child?

Noël.

He’d reached across the space between them to hold her hand in his. Noël’s skin ran hot, but she could tell that his hand had been warmed by the candles of the church.

Though a demon, you have not once harmed me, and you have crossed my path seeking help. I will help you, Noël. Have faith; such is God’s will.

The wind was blowing in the other direction and yet Noël could still smell the blood on the vampire’s hands. The scent mingled with the cold air and the vampire's long wavy hair like ribbons of iron. One of them belonged to her priest. Father Gabriele had died because Noël hadn’t been there to protect him. He’d been a vampire’s meal. The thought that he’d met such a vulgar end was painful to bear.

“You are a monster,” Noël mouthed in the crook of her crossed arms. Her voice filtered through. The sound of it came out neither loud nor quiet, just broken.

The vampire scoffed. “And what are you, then? I saw the look on your face when we slaughtered all those stupid animals. You enjoyed it. Did you feed on it, as well? A demon would enjoy all that chaos, wouldn’t she?”

“Those brutes were a different matter. Father Gabriele did not deserve such a fate. He helped me.”

“He betrayed you. Don’t tell me you’re genuinely sad that I ate him after what he did.”

“I warned you not to.”

“You were gone, and that’s what I was waiting for. Don’t blame me for hunting easy prey. Do you know what’s most amusing in all of this? He wasn’t even that good.”

“What a vile creature you are,” murmured Noël.

The vampire’s tone became sharper. “Hey, demon, I didn’t choose this.”

Noël gazed at the smattering of tiny pinpoints of light across the inky skies. “And yet you choose to indulge in your base instincts.”

“Yes, because that’s the reasonable thing to do for creatures like us.”

“It doesn’t mean that we should.”

“Ugh, a preachy demon. Disgusting. It’s not my problem that you like to suffer, and I’m not about to let you make it one. You can have faith in that.”

Noël frowned, claws digging in her own skin where her hands tightened around her arms.

“Just how devoid of regret can you be?”

There was no answer. Noël looked to her side after a while of silence. The space where the vampire had been standing was empty.

#fff135 #griveil #safia (griveil)#noël (griveil)#flashfictionfriday #flashfictionfridayofficial #griveil short #conteur writes

4 notes · View notes

aros001 · 3 years ago

Text

Read through light novel vol. 8. Random thoughts.

It's funny that what's made me the angriest thus far in this series is Priestess getting her clothes stolen. Closest was Wizard Boy's arrogant ignorance. With the goblins I feel horror and disgust and yeah there's anger there too, but for whatever reason I had just such a strong reaction of "That bitch!" when the girl stole the mail from Priestess and made her cry.

The news that the first princess had been kidnapped by goblins was enough to make the king stand up from his throne.

Okay, I was mad but not that mad!

“About, that...” Witch, who had produced her pipe from nowhere, gave Priestess a heavy-lidded look. Erk... Priestess felt her heart skip a beat; she put a hand to her chest. Would she be able to have this effect on people someday? It was going to be a long time coming...

That does make me wonder, has there ever been a design for Priestess as an adult, be it official or fan-art? She is only 16, so even if she doesn't get much bustier she should still reasonably grow a bit. It's interesting to imagine her and Goblin Slayer anywhere near a similar height.

Also, this is me probably looking too deep into things, but between Witch, Sword Maiden and even a lot of her interactions with Noble Fencer, does anyone else ever get the feeling Priestess might be bisexual? I hesitate to say that because usually I dislike how often I see people insist that a deep friendship/connection/admiration immediately equals love, but how the narration sometimes describes how Priestess is thinking about some other women makes it sound a lot more like attraction than just envy over body proportions. I say bi and not just gay because she does seem to have at least some romantic feelings for Goblin Slayer, even if it is just a desire for his attention and approval.

That aside, I do really like that she wants to be more like Witch, or at least how she perceives Witch. Cool, powerful, knowledgeable, elegant, stacked. I've always had a soft spot for characters who have another person they admire as their goal to be like and are so humble that they don't quite see the positive effect they already have on those around them. The person who admires someone for their positive qualities not yet seeing that they too are admired for similar qualities.

The skin her vestments revealed was perfectly white, almost translucent, as if untouched by the sun. It meant that the tinge of rose in her cheeks was probably not just from the light. She almost seemed like a harlot—and there were temples that kept sacred prostitutes.

What the f**k is a sacred prostitute?

Given that we know High Elf Archer sleeps in the nude, that's twice in this book Goblin Slayer just barges into a woman's room while she's not dressed, first with Cow Girl and then with her to wake her up.

“I know it’s hard,” Goblin Slayer said with utmost seriousness. “When I was a child, I would lay in bed trying to find out how long I had to keep my eyes closed before it would be morning.”

Again, one of the big draws of this series for me and why I think it works is that it takes trauma seriously. The raping goblins aren't just a gimmick to make the series seem edgy. It addresses that these creature would really mess a person up and that the lingering trauma is treated with understanding, never like it's cowardice or foolishness. How this series handles Sword Maiden especially is something I really respect. She comes in to save the day at the end but it's clear it's taking everything she has just to be there. How she froze up when she was called on in the court to deal with the goblins and the relief like a bright light when Goblin Slayer came in to take the job. The position she's in of being powerful enough to face the Demon King but unable to fight "mere" goblins and no one aside from those who've personally experienced the sheer horror of the goblins able to understand, adding to her feelings of isolation and helplessness. It's really good stuff.

I remember when I first started with Goblin Slayer and I saw some people complaining that the series was kind of dull because he never fights anything other than goblins. One, that's just flat-out not true, as he's fought many non-goblin creatures. He just has no interest in fighting anything that's not a goblin. But even when it's just the goblins, I think this series does a good job at making the goblins always feel like a threat and shaking things up often enough. Giving them new tactics, new leaders, new bases of operation, even new breeds like the Goblin Paladin. Every time they're doing something even slightly different from the norm for them it always sparks some dread about what's coming. The moment this volume mentioned a band of goblins with identical tattoos marking them it was just an instant "Oh, that can't be good" from me, which leads into the Goblin Priest, a big cause for alarm given how useful Priestess has proven herself to be, which led into the weird demon arm thing. It's like complaining that a character never fights anything other than humans or dragons or vampires. The power level doesn't matter if it's the same kind of human/dragon/vampire every time. Be it the things that use goblins as their minions/followers or the goblins themselves, I personally think there's enough variety involved to keep things interesting.

A nice moment with Priestess visiting Wizard's grave (so this is the leaked image that got the false rumor started) and, something I'm really hoping for, the possible return of Fighter, even if it's just Priestess eventually finding the courage to see her again at least once. Again, the reason the goblins work is because what they do isn't just a gimmick. Several volumes after her first party's wipe, Priestess is still thinking about them, lamenting their loss, thinking about what could have been, and how difficult it'll be for them to see each other again after what happened. They weren't just Priestess' origin story, they were real (albeit fictional) people, taken before their time and violated in the worst way possible and they shouldn't be just a footnote. Be it for Priestess and Wizard's brother, they should and do still matter.

She strengthened her barriers as an attack came from a strange angle; Sage was thinking fast. It seemed likely that this thing, this shade—if it could be called that—learned by absorbing other living things. They were simply lucky that the creature it was trying to parasitize at the moment was so incredibly stupid. But... Sage gave voice to the obvious question. “How did the corpse of a goblin drop onto a mountaintop...?”

Holy shit, that's hilarious. And the best part is, there was build up to it. Back in vol. 6 when Goblin Slayer used a scroll to flood a nest he did believe there were some goblins he wasn't able to get. Throughout the series it's been noted he doesn't like using the same tricks too many times in a row in case the goblins learn from him, thus the importance of making sure every goblin he encounters he kills. If some escaped, yeah, it makes total sense he'd change to a different type of location for the Gate scroll, just in case he ever meets up with goblins whom are expecting a flood to pop out.

Second only to this with how good the set-up was has to be Priestess turning the blood from the Goblin Priest's ritual into water, ruining its sacrifice to the dark gods. She discovered she could do that last volume but it seemed like she never would again because she's forbidden from using her miracles to deliberately harm another living being (even a goblin). This was a very clever way of bringing it back, having her learn from her experiences while still being devote to the Earth Mother.

Priestess noticed that her hand was still clinging to his and blushed. She made to disentangle her fingers—hesitated—brushed his hand softly and, finally, pulled hers away. She was humiliated, pathetic, pitiful...and yet. I want to be... ...a source of strength to him. That day, she stored up the smallest of prayers in her heart. One day, she swore, she would be.

All shipping and such aside, this is something I really hope to see someday. That point in the series where Priestess is no longer Goblin Slayer's sidekick but rather his partner. Someone he can have truly walk and fight beside him as an equal, easing the burden on his shoulders, until the day all goblins are gone.

What kind of world is it where I'm thinking "Thank goodness, the princess was only severely beaten and nearly sacrificed to a dark god"?

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinSlayer/comments/g4llnd/read_through_light_novel_vol_8_random_thoughts/

#goblin slayer #random thoughts #reddit repost

7 notes · View notes

countrygangrel · 8 years ago

Note

hey i want every single one for sancho david and austin please and thank u :)

maria im hatefollowing u and i wouldnt help u with ur spanish homework /s

Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?

sancho: he doesnt rlly consider himself to have family but of the ppl who seem to sorta consider him family he likes marco the best

david: he likes diego the best smh

austin: he doesnt consider any of the ppl who consider him family To be family but mags is the closest

What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like?

sancho: Bad shes the reason he ended up homeless

david: he doesnt remember his birth mom but he loves marge : )

austin: he idealizes her and remembers her as being perfect but she was subpar

What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?

sancho: he considers him a weak and pathetic little man

david: he doesnt remember his birth father but he doesnt like gabriel at all : (

austin: Bad

Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

sancho: he almost got murdered and he tries to avoid telling people abt it :/

david: Uh Yea and like everyone knows it got big in vampire scenes

austin: yea and he tells everyone smh hes an oversharer

On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

sancho: a knife, one of those stupid pocket bibles, his phone, snacks he Probably stole

david: Garbage he doesnt rlly go anywhere and he also forgets to empty them out

austin: his phone, some cash, a couple ious to replace mags’s stuff when he takes it, his wallet

Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

sancho: he doesnt dream

david: i feel like he has dreams that involve weightlessness a lot. also cleanliness

austin: Hedonism. also idealized versions of his childhood

Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?

sancho: eternal damnation

david: being dirty and also drowning. his abusers there

austin: honestly? Also hedonism. probably food

Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target?

sancho: he misfired on a guy that he was trying to keep from coming any closer to him

david: he shot a book that he set up on a fence

austin: he shot a guy on Purpose

Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up?

sancho: hes Worse off hes semi-homeless

david: hes? Worse off but a lot happier the weed money has him stable enough

austin: not rlly

Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

sancho: more he likes layers

david: more

austin: less

In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

sancho: probably when he was being almost murdered. he didnt think he was afraid of death before

david: hes been in a Lot of situations that border on this but probably when his parents were murdered

austin: when he had to kill a werewolf for the first time

In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?

sancho: he Acts calm all the time but hes normally pretty stressed out. hes gonna grey early

david: Hes Never Calm

austin: hes pretty calm now in the face of danger like even having a gun in his face hes calm

Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way?

dsjkdshds none of them r bothered by it now but david used to be. he got over it

Does your character remember names or faces easier?

sancho: neither he doesnt want to know anyone

david: names

austin: faces

Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?

sancho: he Is hes very poor and concerned abt where hes living and if hes a freeloader or not

david: not rlly he thinks its pointless and hes gonna die Anyway

austin: yea hes a poor and greedy man

Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?

sancho: success

david: success

austin: happiness

What was your character’s favorite toy as a child?

sancho: he didnt have any but he woulda liked stuffed animals

david: he had a stuffed bear that he carried around and didnt let ppl touch. gabriel took it from him and he stopped having comfort objects

austin: he liked his sisters dolls

Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?

sancho: wisdom

david: ambition hes Jealous

austin: ambition

What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

sancho: he doesnt voice his issues but hes rlly insecure so he ends up sorta touchy :/ nd theyre working on it

david: he doesnt have relationships hes Way too shy

austin: hes got commitment issues and he ends up ruining relationships very quickly

In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

sancho: all he does his compare himself to others negatively smh he has no self esteem and hes lookin for reasons people wouldnt want him around

david: its for self criticism he has depression and low self esteem. A lot of time its in ? physical aspects or how well they deal with interpersonal communication

austin: its for self validation most of the time. at least if hes Voicing it

If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?

They all ? think they caused or deserved it but austin blames others Verbally

What does your character like in other people?

sancho: he has a soft spot for cute people :( he likes cute things in general. he? sorta likes mean people too smh he doesnt like feeling like people are lying to him abt liking him. overall he doesnt like people tho

david: he Also avoids ppl so he doesnt like ? like a Lot but he does like when ppl care abt him :’/ if u show him genuine care he’ll warm up pretty fast

austin: he just likes Attention. but in General he also likes people who arent that serious sdsdkhdsj he also likes people who’ll pamper him

What does your character dislike in other people?

sancho: he doesnt like ppl who r ? Overly nice or rlly try to pay attention to him. he also doesnt like having people ‘pity’ him (read: care abt)

david: he doesnt like mean people :( or at least people who r mean to Him hes rlly sensitive. he also doesnt like ppl who try to Force eye contact. also being tall white men makes u a no in his book

austin: people who insult him to his face >:/ or ppl who r mean to their families without Reason hes a hypocrite

How quick is your character to trust someone else?

sancho: he doesnt

david: it takes him a While and it depends on the person. atm he only rlly trusts 2 ppl tho

austin: he doesnt rlly Ever trust people but he lets his guard down anyway

How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

sancho: o Immediately. he does it Less if he knows u but :/ not much

david: he tries not to now but hes a very nervous boy

austin: he does it pretty fast but ? ignores what his guts tellin him

How does your character behave around children?

sancho: he has a daughter who he loves but he doesnt rlly know how to take care of kids

david: he tries to avoid them he doesnt know how to deal with them he gets overstimmed really fast

austin: he avoids them but he Loves kids. hes rlly worried abt being a creep and Hurting ppl

How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

sancho: he Stews and looks annoyed but doesnt rlly fight

david: he avoids it at all costs

austin: hes Fighty hell argue over little things

How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation?

sancho: sorta quick smh but he has to be pushed

david: he avoids it at all costs hes weak

austin: Very fast

What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

sancho: i feel like he wanted to be a doctor :/ it Didnt happen

david: he didnt actually have much by way of dreams? he thought abt being an author or a priest tho. It didnt happen

austin: he didnt rlly have any he was just gonna farm

What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?

sancho: anything thats too clean. most like ? normal things to be disgusted by other than like gore. also himself

david: he finds most kinds of mess repulsive. hes still repulsed by gore even tho hes used to blood

austin: he doesnt find much other than like ? Excrement repulsive

Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.

sancho: having his own room with a window and several locks on the door. his cats r there

david: being able to be alone in his room while still being confident that his friends love and care abt him

austin: he wants to be Loved so hed be most comfortable surrounded by family who loves him :’)

Describe a scenario in which your character feels most uncomfortable.

sancho: rlly being ? around people in general

david: being in public in general but Especially anywhere near a stage. he woulda been valedictorian if he went to hs modernly but the speech shit would kill him

austin: being ignored and on his own

In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

sancho: hes a cocktail of all of them :/ but overall hes willing to improve

david: hes willing to improve most of the time but he can be sorta :/ resistant

austin: hes Very defensive

Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method?

sancho: keep the method

david: keep the method

austin: move on

How does your character behave around people they like?

sancho: hes ? nicer but overall he tries not to show it smh

david: hes more willing to come out of his shell and interact with ppl he likes

austin: hes a bit of a bully and Very clingy. he likes teasin ppl

How does your character behave around people they dislike?

sancho: he bottles it up and Glares

david: he avoids interacting with them more than he normally does

austin: hes a bitch tbh he gets Mean and Petty

Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

sancho: honor

david: status

austin: honor

Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat?

sancho: remove self

david: remove self

austin: remove problem

Has your character ever been bitten by an animal? How were they affected (or unaffected)?

sancho: he has been and hes nervous around dogs now, especially bigger dogs

david: he hasnt been bit

austin: hes been bit but he doesnt care he still loves animals smh he also probably deserved to get bit hes the type to stick his face in animals’ faces

How does your character treat people in service jobs?

sancho: he does his best and over all tries to be nonintrusive

david: he avoids interacting with people at all dsksdjj so hes okay

austin: he works a service job So

Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?

sancho: he feels like he has to earn it but he can never do enough To earn it

david: he has to earn it

austin: he feels like he Deserves it

Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?

sancho: he avoids parental figures

david: yes! He has an adoptive mom who he loves

austin: sorta? kinda. he isnt sure how to feel abt her tho :/

Has your character ever had a dependent figure who was not related to them?

sancho: yea he has a bf and a child

david: no

austin: sorta? rlly depends. not rlly tho

How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

sancho: its pretty difficult and he avoids it

david: its difficult but he can say it without meaning it

austin: its easy to lie but hard to say it proper

What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

sancho: he believes hes going to go to hell :/ but hes sorta accepted it. he is scared to die

david: he isnt sure what he believes but he believes it isnt good

austin: he doesnt believe in anything

#sorry yall dsjsdkhdkh #tinymush #austin #nettle #david #abuse ment ig #food ment #ask to tag

2 notes · View notes