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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 5 months

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Inconceivable (Princess Bride AU)

Part I: A Kissing Story

Westeros has been at peace for nearly a year, and a wedding has been planned to celebrate the anniversary. King Jacaerys will marry his aunt, the only surviving child of the Greens, and unite both Targaryen bloodlines at last. It is a fairy tale ending, but this is no ordinary fairy tale...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x sister!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Jacaerys x reader

Warnings: Angst, grief, forced marriage

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: Nothing like watching an old classic movie to revive the writing inspiration, huh?

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Part I: A Kissing Story

“The princess was raised in a great castle along the coast of a glimmering sea. Her favorite pastimes were riding her dragon and tormenting her older brother. His name was…” Aemond. His name was Aemond, but she couldn’t say that. She had not said it in what felt like a lifetime. Not even to their mother.

His name was Aerion. But she never called him that. Nothing gave the princess as much pleasure as ordering Aerion around. ‘Lēkia, help me brush my hair!’ she would say.

Aerion would reply, “as you wish.’ It was all he ever said to her.

One day, the princess called him into her chambers before they were to attend a ball. When he entered, she was sitting at her vanity, a necklace of sapphires set in gold laid before her. ‘Lēkia, help me with my necklace. The clasp is quite tricky.’

The clasp was not tricky, but he put it around her neck anyway, his hands lingering on her neck as they gazed into each other’s eyes through the mirror. ‘As you wish,’ Aerion said.

That day, the princess was amazed to discover that when her brother said ‘As you wish,’ what he meant was this: ‘I love you.’ And even more amazing was that night when she realized she truly loved him back.”

“Is this a kissing story?” Young Aegon’s voice shattered the spell she’d been under like a pane of glass. The young prince – her nephew – was tucked into his bed as he recovered from a mild fever.

She laughed. The boy was becoming a man now if he no longer had a taste for ‘kissing stories.’ Once, he had loved them. “I’m sorry, Aegon. I can tell another if you would prefer?”

Aegon sighed. “No, I think I just want to sleep, muña.”

“Then I shall let you sleep, trēsy.” She did not let her disappointment show until she had left her nephew’s bedchamber. She needed to tell the story, for it was the only way she could keep it alive, the only way she could remember.

So, as she returned to her rooms and was readied for bed by servants she did not trust, she silently told the story to herself.

“Aerion asked the crown for permission to marry his sister, but before they could say their vows, war befell the kingdom, and he was sent away to battle to protect their family.

‘I fear I’ll never see you again,’ the princess cried as they said their farewells.

‘Of course you will,’ he assured.

‘But what if something happens to you?’

‘Hear this now: I will always come for you.’

Through her tears, the princess asked, ‘How can you be sure?’

Aerion smiled, ‘This is true love; you think it happens every day?’

His assurance gave the princess enough bravery to watch him mount his dragon and fly away. But Aerion did not return from battle. His dragon was attacked in the Gullet by his enemies and felled. When the princess got the news that he was murdered, she went into her rooms and shut the door and for days she neither slept nor ate, swearing she would never love again.

Two years later, King’s Landing was filled as never before to hear the announcement of the great King Jacaerys’ bride-to-be.

‘My people,’ Jacaerys said, ‘three months from now, our realm will celebrate a year since peace was at last declared. On that sundown, I shall marry my dear aunt, our princess, to reunite our family and signal an end to the strife that threatened to consume us.’

The people cheered so loudly that the princess thought she might be struck deaf. But she was not, forcing her to hear every moment of their adoration. Her emptiness consumed her.

Although the law of the land gave Jacaerys the right to choose his bride, the princess did not love him. He had fought in the battle where her true love had been killed, and every time she looked at him, all she could see was a vision of her brother as he and his dragon fell into the sea.

Despite Jacaerys’ reassurance that she would grow to love him, the only joy she found was in telling her story to her little niece and nephews – the only other remaining members of her family and the only ones who would not glean the longing in her voice. For if the king or his council ever learned that she still loved her brother…”

The door thumped shut as the last of the servants left. She let out a heavy sigh, at last feeling as though she could breathe again as she finished her story, whispered into her pillow.

“She would never be allowed to tell the story again.”

Hundreds of miles away, a weather-worn ship rocked lazily in the docks of Lys. Its crew was scattered within the city, enjoying its many pleasures.

All but the captain.

The man known and feared throughout the world as the Dread Pirate Symeon sat alone in his quarters, silent as death. He pored over a map of the Narrow Sea, but his eye was drawn again and again to a single mark – the small three-headed dragon along the coast of Westeros—King’s Landing.

He ran a finger gloved in black leather over the mark, tapping it twice as he again pondered the words that had echoed in his mind since he heard them.

“King Jacaerys has announced his intention to marry his aunt upon the anniversary of his taking the throne and restoring peace to Westeros.”

Symeon stood so quickly that his chair toppled over, one leg splintering on impact. He did not give it a second glance before strapping a sackful of gold to his belt and storming off the ship.

One of his sailors had the misfortune to be making his way drunkenly back to the ship when the captain pulled him aside. “The ship is Marlow’s now,” he said, naming his first mate. “You will tell no one that you have seen me, or I will return and slit your throat. Understood?”

The sailor nodded, his blood sluggish with drink and fear. The captain released him, and he nearly stumbled into the sea.

When he regained his balance and looked back down the dock, the Dread Pirate Symeon was gone.

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i-only-ever-asked-questions · 6 months

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Aziraphale's bibles

Have you ever noticed how many bibles Aziraphale has just lying about? So. Many. Bibles. Oodles of bibles! In S1 we only saw two, one on top of the desk that he used for checking the number of the beast in Revelations; and the other one on the desk surface, right behind his angel mug when he sat to read The Book (not that book, the other book, the one with the true prophecies).

In S2, we see no less than five bibles on his desk alone and more around the bookshop.

The first one is on the left, right under the little "For the Young: Hymns for Church and Home, with Forms of Services" book, which incidentally opens to: "So shall no wicked thing draw near, To do us harm or cause us fear." (This angel has no shame).

Then there are three more in the desk's middle compartments. One, with a green cover, is on the left slot, right above the tray with pens (this one is a New Testament only). The other two, both with black covers, are right behind the mug, where the RadioTimes watermark is. They look identical but they could be two volumes of the same edition or two different editions. We can probably assume one of these is supposed to be the one from S1. The desk in S1 didn't have compartments, it had drawers so there were no books in that area.

The last one is the on on top of the desk, on the right. This would be the same he used in S1 (although the bible itself is different)

On his right side, sometimes he has an easel where he displays a large book. This is not a bible itself, but an illustrated book of biblical motifs. Sometimes it is closed and sometimes it is open. He normally has it on the Adam and Eve page (cheeky!) but in Ep 2 he opened it to the Book of Job page instead.

There is yet another one in the shelf that Gabriel Jim is organizing

And there is one more in the first backroom (the one with the computer where he talks with Gabriel and Sandalphon). It is on a little table by the door of the private backroom (the one where he confers with Crowley in)

But there is a set of bibles that are even more important to him than any of the other ones. Although the show never mentioned it, the book tells us that in addition to his passion for prophecy books, he also loves and collects misprinted bibles*:

"And he had a complete set of the Infamous Bibles, individually named from errors in typesetting. These Bibles included the Unrighteous Bible, so called from a printer’s error which caused it to proclaim, in I Corinthians, “Know ye not that the unrighteous shall inherit the Kingdom of God?”; and the Wicked Bible, printed by Barker and Lucas in 1632, in which the word not was omitted from the seventh commandment, making it “Thou shalt commit Adultery.” There were the Discharge Bible, the Treacle Bible, the Standing Fishes Bible, the Charing Cross Bible and the rest. Aziraphale had them all. Even the very rarest, a Bible published in 1651 by the London publishing firm of Bilton and Scaggs."

This collection of bibles is hiding in plain sight and readily on hand. Just ask Jim!

The rest are right there on Aziraphale's desk. The tags are hard to read but I found, from right to left, The Treacle Bible, The Discharge Bible, The Unrighteous Bible, then three that I couldn't decipher, the Standing Fishes Bible and The Charing Cross Bible. One of those three is supposed to be the Buggre All This Bible, but none of the tags seemed to fit.

*All the bibles mentioned are real except for the Charing Cross Bible and the Buggre Alle This Bible which in the GO world was printed by Bilton and Scaggs, the publishing company that also printed The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. I have a whole post about Bilton and Scaggs if interested. Now, looking back to S1, as part of his restoring the world, Adam replaced Aziraphale's misprinted bibles with Just William books. Let that sink in... Adam moved Aziraphale's bibles from their righteous place. No wonder Crowley realized it right away. These are Aziraphale's bibles for Go- for Sat- for Somebody's sake!

Fortunately by S2 everything was back to normal.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens book #aziraphale #wicked bible #buggre all this bible #treacle bible #discharge bible #unrighteous bible #standing fishes bible #charing cross bible #adam young #is a cheeky scoundrel #and we love him for it

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brabblesblog · 9 months

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Ch 8: Thou hast ravished my heart with thine eyes.

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

The party is in full swing. Ban and Astarion’s relationship is redefined.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

Ban stepped out of the bedroom, surprised to see the Ascendant right by the door. She had purposefully delayed joining the party, half hoping he’d be too occupied by then to notice her.

She didn’t realize how much she actually consumed his thoughts; didn’t realize that in her absence he hadn’t really found any meaning to the scheming, merely going through the motions.

He offered her his arm, taking a quick, appreciative look at her body. The halter top was a good choice - it showed off well-defined shoulders, and Astarion itched to sink his teeth into the belly of the muscle.

“They’re here,” he said as she linked arms with him. She took a deep breath and he finally realized that she was nervous.

He turned to her, determined. “Whatever happens, Ban, I’m not letting them touch a hair on your head. I promise.”

Astarion knew it to be true. This was one thing both sides of him could agree on - he would let the world burn to keep her safe, himself included if need be.

As they made their way to the ballroom, Ban noticed that he had prepared. He'd summoned more minions than ever before, and various combinations of werewolves, skeletons, and ghasts were stationed at regular intervals. For the first time, his display of power didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. She pressed closer to him, their sides touching as they walked.

They reached the double doors of the ballroom; she squeezed his arm, one final gesture of gratitude and fear. Astarion drank in the moment; he hadn’t felt needed, wanted, or even seen by her of late. Today, he was getting it all, and he found himself being more willing to let his guard down as a result.

“You’ll be okay.” There was no need for pet names, not when it was just him and the only person he’d ever cared about. “We get through this party, and I shall get my reward.”

She laughed, and he felt his heart swell.

“And after that?”

He looked away. He had ideas, but he didn’t think now was the right time to say them.

“We’ll have eternity to figure it out.” A wave of affection came over him, and before he could think too much, he pressed a little kiss to her cheek.

He squeezed her hand, their arms still interlinked. He opened the door, and the Ascendant and his consort entered the ballroom.

Ban spotted the leader of the coven instantly. Human, with cropped raven-black hair and broad, well-built shoulders. In another life, she might have been attracted to the sight. He had two elves with him, both ethereally beautiful and scantily dressed, each draped on an arm.

Compared to them, she was positively masculine. Ban sighed at the thought, brushing it off.

The vampire spotted them and turned, making a beeline for them. Ban felt Astarion straighten up, and so did she.

“Astarion.” The man offered his hand to the Ascendant, and Astarion took it in a quick grasp. He noticed to his displeasure that the other vampire was a good head taller than him.

“Vel Stedez.” Astarion inclined his head in acknowledgement, and then tilted it back so that he was able to look the taller man in the face without craning his neck. He’d always been a master at looking up at someone taller than him while still giving the impression that he was looking down at them, and it proved useful at this moment.

“This is Ban.”

She curtsied, and Vel gave her a bow in return.

“The daywalking consort. I have heard so much about you.” Vel gestured to the ladies beside him. “Enxisys and Miaxisys Flendror - my favoured spawn.”

Ban realized with dawning horror that the two elves were related - possibly even twins. She quickly masked it.

Astarion kissed each of their hands. “Charmed,” he murmured, and both girls tittered. They obviously liked what they saw, eyes hungrily taking in Astarion’s features. The Ascendant returned their gaze with equal, albeit manufactured, intensity, knowing how to play this role far too well.

Vel’s eyes were intense, a maroon so dark it was almost black. He stared at Ban, at the way her dress clung to her body. Her skin crawled at the sensation.

“A unique specimen, for sure,” he told the Ascendant. “I can see why you chased her all the way to Waterdeep.” He turned his gaze to Astarion, and its coldness reminded him so much of Cazador that his hands twitched and he had to stop himself from going for the other vampire’s throat.

“A word of advice, fledgling. That is exactly why you create spawn. Not brides.” He leveled another long, lecherous look at Ban, one that made no pretense about what he was staring at. “Spawn do not go off gallivanting, forcing you to chase after them like a lovesick pup.”

Vel took a step forward with sudden speed, grabbing Ban by the jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze. She flinched, and Astarion bared his fangs, his control over his rage hanging by a thread.

“Do be careful, Vel,” he snarled. “It wouldn’t be wise to be rude to your host. Release her.”

Vel gave Astarion a glance, then pointedly ignored him in favor of Ban. “I would so enjoy you, gorgeous. I love it when they fight back, and I can tell you’d be feisty.” Astarion hissed and reached out for Vel’s arm, but before he could make contact, Vel dropped his hand. He eyed Ban head to toe once more, his tone turning rueful. “But alas, your lord has said I cannot borrow you. Such a shame,” he tutted.

Astarion couldn’t stop the exhale of relief that came out of him. He didn’t move, but all he wanted was to wrap his arms around her and take her away from this.

Instead, he tried to redirect. “I don’t like sharing my things,” he drawled, adopting a bored, dispassionate tone. Inside, he was becoming increasingly more panicked. Vel’s interest in Ban was greater than he’d anticipated and he was worried he might not be able to protect her as well as he’d planned. If he couldn’t keep his promise, she’d leave again. He’d never see her, never touch her, she’d never let him win her back. “I find doing so makes them less… pristine. Why, Vel - would you have allowed me to fuck these two lovely ladies, had I asked?”

Vel grinned widely, and Astarion’s heart dropped. In his panicked rush to find a response, he’d bungled it. Shit.

“I would!” The taller man clapped his hands together. “If you would be amenable to a swap after all, I would be most happy to-“

“No.” Astarion couldn’t completely hide the disgust in his tone. “A gracious offer, but as I previously mentioned - I am not looking to share what is mine.”

“So be it,” Vel said coolly, but his eyes shone with malice. “Just a dance with your dear consort, then?” The word consort was said disdainfully, as though Vel thought of the idea of having one absurd.

Before Astarion could answer, Ban made the choice for him. She slipped her hand off Astarion’s arm and raised it, meeting Vel’s outstretched arm. The Ascendant was barely able to mask his fear and worry for her, but he nodded.

“Enxisys. Miaxisys. Keep the Ascendant entertained, will you?”

The twins moved to either side of Astarion. He linked arms with them reluctantly, not seeing much choice in the matter. As Vel took Ban to the dance floor, Astarion sat on his throne, a girl on each leg. He swallowed once, slipping himself into the role that must be played, then briefly reached out to Ban’s mind.

Be careful.

As Ban was swept across the room in a gentle waltz, she glanced over to see Astarion being fed grapes by the twins. She bit back a surge of jealousy, then turned her attention to Vel.

“So. Daywalking,” Vel said, leaning closer to speak above the din of the party, “How do you manage that?”

The truth wouldn’t hurt them. If anything, it could serve to show how powerful Astarion had become and thus discourage any nefarious plots by Vel.

“My Lord extends some of his gifts to me, as a boon,” she said automatically.

The vampire laughed. “And he did so, even when you were in Waterdeep? Don’t deny it. I have reports of you walking in the markets.” He shook his head. “I should have known Cazador’s spawn would be so feeble. The power of the ascension was wasted on him.”

Ban couldn’t help the growl that escaped her at his words.

Vel, emboldened by the idea of Astarion’s impotence, pulled Ban tighter to his body so that they were chest to chest.

“What would Astarion say, hm?” He forcefully pressed Ban against him, his hand moving down to grab her ass and squeeze tightly. The other hand slid to her hip.

She yelped, her mind blanking in fear. She froze, her mind automatically searching for Astarion’s, but before she even made contact she could hear his voice.

“I’d like my wife back, if you don’t mind.” His tone was perfectly level, but his eyes were glinting with barely concealed rage. Enxisys and Miaxisys trailed just behind him, looking disconcerted - he had obviously eluded them in his rush to intervene.

Vel held still for a moment, considering defying Astarion. Then he laughed and with one final squeeze of Ban’s ass, let her go. “Of course.”

She was still frozen, eyes unable to meet Astarion’s. He quickly wrapped an arm around her waist. For a moment, he felt a thrum of energy and worried she’d inadvertently put the wards up in her panic, but he was too worried about her to care about it possibly hurting him. Thankfully, his hand settled against her without any resistance and he pulled her against his chest. He held her close, taking a moment to ensure she was alright. Then he glared at Vel.

Vel watched this with amusement. “Wife, Astarion? You really do give your creation too much power. If I may suggest a firmer ha-”

Long fingers wrapped around Vel’s throat, cutting off his words as his feet were lifted several inches off the ground, Astarion dangling the taller man by the neck with no visible effort.

“A firmer hand, you say?” Astarion drawled with sinister delight.

Vel’s face was a picture of confident arrogance, his smile tinged with faint amusement. He reached up to pry the hand from his neck, the arrogant smirk beginning to wane when his strongest effort had no effect whatsoever. Miaxisys and Enxisys gasped, both taking a half-step towards the Ascendant, freezing in place when he turned to give them a look that dared them to try. In the background, a cacophony of growls and hisses reverberated around the room, Astarion’s summons responding to their master’s fury.

A small, strangled noise escaped Vel - more humiliation and bafflement than actual suffocation - and Astarion fixed his gaze on him. “I did warn you not to be rude, Vel.” His hand tightened a fraction, fingernails digging into skin; Vel would have marks for at least a few hours after this encounter. “Now, apologize to my wife.”

Vel huffed in indignation, but the hand around his throat tightened further, and he choked out a quiet “My apologies, Ban,” his eyes burning with loathing… and just the slightest hint of fear.

“One more chance; violate our hospitality again, and you will return to Waterdeep in pieces.”

His countenance cooled almost instantly and he dropped Vel unceremoniously. As the other man caught himself, rubbing his bruised throat, Astarion rearranged his coat, features sliding into a veneer of calm politeness once again.

“Take your time, Vel. Miaxisys, Enxisys - a pleasure having you here.” He gave the spawn a small bow. “Please, enjoy the rest of the night.”

Before Vel could say anything damning, Astarion took Ban away, leading her into the thick of the crowd on the dance floor.

The moment they were in the middle of the crowd, Astarion wrapped both arms around her waist and held her. She buried her head against his chest. He tried to peer at her face.

“Are you okay?” he said, keeping his voice low.

Ban could smell the twins’ perfume on him, but it didn’t bother her. She lifted her head, meeting his gaze, and in that moment she felt as if the ascension had never happened at all - he was here in her moment of need. She nodded, hoping to reassure him.

“I’m fine. He got handsy, but that’s all.” She could see him scanning her face, trying to gauge the truth of her words. Seemingly satisfied, he exhaled.

Ban tapped her temple. Speak here.

I don’t think we’re rid of him yet, unfortunately, Astarion replied. However, with any luck, the other covens won’t want to interfere with a conflict like this. Territorial disputes are one thing - but interfering with someone else’s bride is another matter entirely. He cupped her cheek, his fingers shaking from the intensity of his anger. He hurt you. He made me break my promise. His eyes were soft for a moment more, and then they hardened at the thought of Vel Stedez attempting to take his treasure right under his nose. In the heart of his palace, no less.

That prick, he hissed into her mind. You’re mine. You will only ever be mine. His voice was rough, even over the bond, the wounded pride coming to play. I should have staked him where he stood.

Astarion, Ban murmured, and just his name was almost enough to snap him out of it. Is that all that matters to you? That he tried to take what’s yours?

She looked disappointed. She was hoping he was starting to understand what she wanted from him, and this sounded like a step backwards.

To her immense delight, the Ascendant shook his head, looking away. Possessing her was part of it, of course, but he was more worried about her than anything else. For now, that small gesture was all he had the bravery to manage; speaking the words would make it too real.

Ban knew all too well what that look meant, why Astarion suddenly looked off to the side - he was feeling a little too vulnerable. She decided to give him her understanding in terms that he'd be more willing to accept, knowing words were often difficult for him.

She cupped his face in both hands and before he could react, she kissed his lips. She tried to set the pace of the kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth, hoping he’d let her continue the dynamic they had earlier in the day.

He smiled into the kiss, returning it just as eagerly, his tongue finding its way into her mouth in return. When he pulled away, his eyes were shut, his breathing hard and fast. “Have I behaved well enough, now?” he whispered.

She slid her hands from his cheeks to his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart.

He smiled wider at that. “For you,” he murmured. “It only races for you.”

His hands dropped to her ass, and he opened his eyes. Without a word, he slowly led her to his throne. He took a seat and pulled her to his lap, her skirt fanning out over his legs, covering them both. She scooted a little more towards his torso, settling her ass higher up on his thigh. She shifted her weight against his groin, watching his eyes widen and then narrow at her.

“Bad girl,” he growled, a hand coming up to grip her thigh in turn.

“I think we both know you’re not the one barking commands today, Astarion.”

He scowled, but it was soon replaced by an exaggerated sigh. Of course. “If you must,” he said resignedly, pretending that he didn’t feel the bolt of excitement that shot straight to his cock.

As they sat on the throne surveying the party, Ban slipped the hand closest to Astarion beneath her skirt, cupping him through his trousers. He couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way his body jerked up to meet her touch. He was already growing hard, and he felt the familiar urge to fuck her senseless roaring back to life.

“Pretty good party,” she drawled, “I see you managed well even without me.”

The hand on his cock squeezed, and she began to stroke along his now rock-hard length. He fought the urge to buck, one hand clutching the armrest in a viselike grip, the other fisted in Ban’s skirt.

“Ban-” he choked out. More, he thought desperately, longing for there to be nothing between her skin and his. He wanted this. No. He thought he needed this - this new, delicious feeling of letting go, of letting his pleasure take precedence.

She laughed softly, leaning back to whisper against his ear. Her breath tickled the edge, making him shiver. “Say please.”

Astarion considered denying her, but the urge to assert control didn’t stand a chance against the raging inferno of his desire for her. He relented. “Please.” His hips rolled a little, pressing his cock against her hand. The pleasure was immense, and he could feel himself throbbing with need.

“Mm. I think… you can do better than that.” She stopped touching him, drawing her hand away, and the loss of sensation nearly wrested an unbecoming whimper from him.

His cock twitched, straining against the fabric. He shifted his hips and adjusted himself, easing the pressure a little.

His next words were frantic. “Okay. Okay. Ban - please. I want you to touch me.”

She nodded, considering that enough. She found the buttons of his trousers, popping them open and letting him spring free. Astarion exhaled, swallowing down a whine as she wrapped her hand around his cock.

Ban huffed a laugh. “You’re so hard, Astarion, gods.”

Hidden under her skirt and her body covering them from prying eyes, she began to stroke him. She swiped her thumb across his tip, collecting the fresh precum and spreading it as she thumbed circles around his cockhead. She could feel his cock pulsing in her palm and it was a glorious thing, the way he responded to her touch. Try as he might to keep still, his hips still bucked subtly.

Astarion forced his eyes ahead. His grip on the armrest was now painfully tight, and part of him worried he’d crack the wood.

“I’m aching for you too, don’t worry,” Ban whispered, “Imagine, Astarion, if it was my heat taking you right now. Squeezing around you.” She leaned back to watch him struggle, and then licked the tip of his ear.

He couldn’t quite hold this moan in, and it escaped as a small, strangled noise. He desperately needed to rut harder, and he obliged himself a little, rolling his hips at a slightly different angle. He twitched in her grasp, and she smirked as she felt him throb.

“You want to come?” She asked, glancing over at him.

He nodded violently, hands trembling. He had been left wanting all day, since that first little tease, and he felt frenzied, wild, like he might die if he couldn’t have her soon.

“Please.” It grated on him somewhat to say it, but to his surprise and delight he realized he trusted her enough to play along - in fact, he was enjoying it.

“I think not. If you come here, you’ll stain your pretty clothes. Everyone will see. We can’t have that, can we?”

She stopped stroking his cock, and the loss made him ache. He knew she was right, but he was so delirious with need that he considered telling her fuck it and just bending her over in front of the whole party. If not for Vel and his prurient interest in Ban, he would likely do exactly that.

She considered their predicament for a moment, and then smiled. “We could slip away for a quick moment, if that’s what my lord wishes?”

Astarion nodded frantically. All too eager, he quickly reached in to tuck himself back into his trousers. As Ban stood, so did he, and he used her body to hide his raging erection from the crowd. They managed to sneak off to the hallway and into their bedroom; Astarion snapped the door shut.

“Fuck me,” he hissed, all pretense gone. But she only laughed.

“So impatient,” she teased.

He growled, a little of his usual arrogance coming through as he crowded her against a wall. His hands grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head.

“I know you want to,” he said, in between kisses to her lips and throat. “I know you’re wet for me, darling, just as I ache for you. I know you want my come inside you. So how about I give it to you?”

Ban felt her core contract at his words, aching to be filled.

Astarion released her wrists to ruck her skirt up, but she stopped him.

“I didn’t say you could.”

For the first time, it didn’t even cross his mind to fight her, the usual sting of his pride being forced down entirely absent. In that moment, he realized why allowing her dominion over him felt so right. When she took control, she was fully present - there was no resignation or absence in her. She actively chose every kiss, every caress, every drop of pleasure she bestowed upon him. In this, he found a fierce joy; there was no room for arrogance or pride. Instead, there was only the throbbing need in his cock and her sheer closeness. He could smell her arousal mingling with his own, and the heady scent - one he thought he’d never get to enjoy again - almost drove him insane.

“Please, Ban,” he whimpered, and it was the easiest those words have ever left his lips. “I’m begging you. Fuck me. Ride me.” He ground against her, feeling her moist heat through his trousers.

Any further words were lost as she kissed him again, her hands lifting her skirt to reveal her glistening mound. He reached for her with his free hand, his thumb finding her clit and tracing circles around it without breaking the kiss. The other hand eagerly cupped her breast, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. He found her already soaking wet, her entrance slick and warm and so ready for him. His hips ground against her erratically, his cock absolutely begging for friction, rhythm be damned.

“Astarion,” she warned, “You don’t need to. Just let me give you pleasure for once. That’s it. Nothing else.”

He was uneasy about that. For two hundred years, sex had been a performance, sometimes a torturous one. There had been scores of cruel lovers, who had enjoyed bringing him to the brink and then refusing him relief. His body had responded against his will, and the need had always been fiery and desperate and painful, all the same. With her, especially before the ascension, he had slowly been learning to enjoy himself in the moment, learning to trust that she’d give him what he wanted - what he needed. However, that had been quite some time ago. Whenever they’d made love in the last few months, it had felt like she was going through the motions, and that had made him resort to his old tricks to elicit some kind of response.

But he rediscovered a truth he’d always known before and had forgotten since his ascension. He could trust her. He didn’t have to perform for her. Ever. He merely had to be real.

“I want to,” he murmured, “I want to make you come. And then I want you to ride me.” He met her gaze. “Please let me.”

She nodded. Astarion smiled, and then fell to his knees in front of her. As his deft hands worked to undo his trousers and free his aching cock, he buried his face in her sex. His left hand spread her open and his tongue swiped at her engorged clit, then lapped at her entrance.

Delicious.

His right hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself fast and hard. He squeezed lightly as he did, his hips pistoning as he fucked his hand, desperately chasing his release.

Ban looked down to see him buried nose deep in her groin, tongue fucking her, his thumb rubbing her clit while he touched himself. His ass clenched with every frantic thrust. She threaded her fingers through his hair, but didn’t pull.

“Astarion. Don’t come like that. You know where I want it.” Where we both want it.

He backed off enough to meet her gaze, and the sight of his chin and mouth coated in her wetness made her groan.

“I know.” The smirks and the arrogance were gone; all that was left was Astarion and his blinding devotion to her. “I won’t come until you tell me to, and I’ll do it where you want me to.”

Absolute trust. It was entirely novel to the Ascendant, but it felt right.

Ban smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. “Good.”

With that, Astarion resumed his work, his lips wrapping around her clit. He sucked, his tongue flicking against her flesh. He let go of his cock to grip her hip, pressing her closer to him and urging her to fuck his mouth.

She obliged, hips gliding as she rubbed against his tongue and lips. He could feel his cock aching, begging for something - anything, but that didn’t matter much right now. All he could think about was how she tasted, how she ground herself against his face, how her hand fisted in his curls. He gently, carefully pressed a fang against her clit, dragging it along the surface, holding her hips still as she writhed with the sensation.

That alone almost brought her to her peak; she released her grip on Astarion's hair, covering her mouth to stifle her moans.

Astarion, sensing how close she was, flattened his tongue and continued to lap at her entrance and the bottom of her clit, while his thumb slid over the top, rubbing faster and faster. The twitching of his neglected cock was barely an afterthought; he knew his own release would soon follow.

Ban moaned his name as she rode the wave of her orgasm, her knees buckling. His name was a fervent prayer from her lips, a worshipful sound that never failed to go straight to Astarion’s cock. He held her up throughout, his tongue and thumb still working until she squirmed from overstimulation.

He gave her one last lick from entrance to clit and then pulled away, making a show of licking his fangs and lips as he met her gaze.

“May I?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yes, you may. I'd ride you, but I think we're too far gone for that. Fuck me. Take your pleasure from me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Astarion stood, hand pumping his cock as he lined himself up with Ban’s entrance. Without further delay, he buried himself to the hilt, sliding home with no resistance. She was slick and warm and perfect. He groaned, pressing their foreheads together; he had been dreaming of this for so long.

Ban could smell herself on his breath, and she leaned in to kiss him as he began to fuck her. This time, there was no performance from either of them. Astarion’s hips thrust of their own accord, and they did not roll like they usually did when he wanted to make her come. Instead he pumped in and out, hips pistoning at a punishing pace. He gripped her ass with both hands, pressing her closer to him, burying himself as deeply as he could with every thrust.

Their tongues tangled in a mess of breaths and moans, and Astarion could feel his balls tightening as he approached his climax. Good - so good, having her here, taking her, sinking my cock deep inside her heat, where it belongs, has always belonged. More, he thought, more and more forever because I want and need and miss you so much.

Ban placed a hand on his chest, feeling the roaring thunder of his heart, tongue finding a fang and pressing on it until she drew blood. He whined at the taste, eagerly lapping at it, and she smiled.

“Come for me, Astarion.”

Even in this, especially in this, the Ascendant obeyed without thought. Her command pushed him over the edge into an ecstasy beyond description. As he came, he moaned into her mouth, his hips spasming in jittery thrusts and grinds as he lost all control. He felt the overwhelming sensation of release as he emptied himself inside her, filling her with his come, and for the first time in months, he wasn’t coming into emptiness. There was warmth, and tightness, and closeness. There was her. It was so exquisite his eyes closed against the overwhelming joy and pleasure.

For several moments neither of them moved, clinging to one another while they caught their breath. As the world came back into focus he slowly pulled out of Ban, looking down and watching as his cock emerged, coated in his come and her wetness. She looked down as well, smiling.

“Won’t do to have that mess in your trousers for the rest of the night,” she teased, kneeling down to lick every inch of his cock clean. The sensation was intense, almost too much, and his hand gripped her shoulder tightly as she cleaned him.

She gave him one last, hard suck, earning her a loud groan, before standing back up. He fixed her with an unsteady, almost stunned gaze as he tucked himself back into his trousers and fixed his clothes.

“I want to try again, Ban.” The words slipped out earnestly and without hesitation. He had been considering how to broach this topic all day, vacillating between grand gestures and a long prepared speech. In the end, after all this, he felt this was the best way to do it. The way she always seemed to want him - sincere. Real.

Ban stared at him in shock, contemplating saying no. There was too much baggage, no matter how fantastic the sex was. But she could see that he was closer to his old self than he’d ever been. Not exactly the same - but almost. He’d protected her out of love, allowed her to take charge, trusted her to do right by him, and had now taken the next logical step.

He was handing her his heart, just as he had when he’d first confessed his feelings to her.

“If that’s what you want,” Ban murmured, caressing his cheek. His face was still damp with sweat and slick, and she traced some of the wetness on his lips. He parted them to suck her finger, a coy smile crossing his features.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

He knew there was work to be done. There was still the party to attend to. There were things to make amends for and things to prove. He had to get over his pride and relearn letting his walls down, if only for her. It might prove impossible, but he intended to try.

But for now? This was enough.

#astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion x tav #astarion fic #bg3 astarion #ascended astarion x f!tav #astarion smut #astarion romance #astarion x female oc #ascended astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

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leucisticpuffin · 8 months

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coirë | a stirring

“Thou callest this season beautiful,” he said one morning, watching shadows shift through the canvas as an attendant cleared the doorway of snow. “Forgive me, but I cannot see it.” “But thou hast seen it not,” protested Findekáno, setting aside his mortar and pestle. (The skill of preparing medicines he had picked up in the fearful days of the last winter, needing desperately to be useful, and yet unable to look at the wound wrought by his own hand.) “Not everywhere is so grey! Come, Russandol; I shall show thee why we name it so.”

Read the whole story on AO3

#i finished it!!#really hope i used the archaic language correctly i've never done that before #coirë #maedhros #fingon #silmarillion fanfiction #silmfic #silmarillion fic #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien fic #tolkien fanart #silm art #silmarillion fanart #oneshot #fanfiction illustration

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scenteddelusion5 · 6 months

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A Daring Creature -Part 2

Zestial x angel fem reader

Note: The chapters of 'A Daring Creature' are a lot shorter than the multi-chapter fic I've written for Vox and the reason for that is because writing old english is a lot more exhausting and I don't want to make you wait too long. Hope you understand!

Warning: inacurate middle English and attempted (sexual is implied) assault (It doesn't go far)

Word count: 1458

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Zestial had barely knocked on her bedroom door, when the door opened revealing Y/n. She wore a simple dress with her hair put up, every single one of her angel features were noticeable.

"I'm ready to go!" She made a little jump of excitement.

"Nay, thou art not." Zestial held up his old, black coat. "Putteth it on. I doth not wisheth for everyone to knoweth I am housing an angel."

"Fine." She took the coat and used it to cover her angelic wings. "Happy?"

Zestial grabbed the hood and pulled it over her halo. "Yes."

The two made it down the stairs and out the front door. Y/n was hopping around, being able to take in hell for the first time.

"Where are we going first?" She asked, staring at the growing city in the distance.

"We art just going to doth a few tasks, nothing special." As Zestial was walking around, the demons around disappeared from the streets out of fear. "Keepeth quiet and doth not interact with aught."

"Don't worry, I can handle myself."

Zestial didn't answer but the silence made his scepticism clear.

He was looking at her prancing around with wonder. It was a strange sight, seeing someone so mesmerised at the horrid streets of hell like it was wonderland. Although if he went to heaven, he too would be intrigued by the underworld. Maybe even visit, like Y/n had done.

She was prancing from one side of the sidewalk to the other. At some point she looked into the show window of an abandoned store, they had run off when Zestial came into view.

"Where is everyone?" She asked. "It's says that it's open but no one's inside."

"It doest not matter." He walked past her. "Keepeth walking, it is unbecoming to beest late."

When she noticed she was a bit too far behind, she ran up to him. "You haven't actually told me yet where we're going."

"First, we art going to visiteth an old friend. Then thee stayeth there while I wend to a meeting." Zestial took a sharp turn to the side entrance of a building.

"So you are leaving me inside again?"

"If it be true thee maketh not trouble-" He knocked on the door.- "I shall taketh thee to where ever thee wanteth to wend this afternoon."

"Fine."

The door opened, revealing a tall woman with white hair pulled up to look like horns. Her red eyes looked Y/n up and down. The glare made a shiver go down the angel's spine.

"Zestial, it's good to see you." The woman stepped aside to let him and Y/n inside. "I see you brought a friend. What can I do for you?"

"Carmilla, I am afraid I has't to asketh thee for a favour." Zestial put his hand on Y/n's shoulder. "Can thee host Y/n in thy home here during the overlord meeting?" He pulled down her hood, when Y/n was about to pull it down. "I hadst to bringeth her out and I didst not wanteth to headeth all the way back to my manner to receiveth her afterwards."

"Who is she?" Carmilla questioned. "It isn't like you to pick up charity cases."

"Thou art as attentive as ever," Zestial admitted, "Y/n is an angel." He ripped of the cloak revealing her glowing halo and majestic wings.

"I take it you want to keep this under wraps." She inspected the angel in front of her once more. "As long as she doesn't cause any trouble."

"Doth not worry, she shall not."

Carmilla had Y/n showed to common room where she was to stay. The two overlords had been gone for half an hour when Y/n started to get bored. No one was around, she had no one to talk to like at Zestial's home and there were no activities she could possibly come up with without making a mess. Y/n realised she ended up in a worse situation than if she had stayed back.

How she wanted to explore hell already... Maybe she could. It couldn't be that bad and if something happened she could just run back to Zetial's or Carmilla's home.

The angel's eyes landed on an open window. It was very high up but the only one that was open. She took of her cloak and folded it up in her arms. Finally being able to stretch his wings. Y/n spread time wide, jumped up and made her way through the window.

The angel landed in an alley. She quickly looked around, making sure no one had seen her and then covered herself with the cloak again.

Y/n recognized the street as the one she walked with Zestial on with. If she was careful with her turns, she could probably find her way back, besides Carmilla's home was very recognizable.

Walking through the street was very different than when she was with Zestial. Demons roamed the street, yelling fighting or just minding their business. Looking too her left, she recognized the shop she had seen earlier. Now it was filled with demons.

After a few turns, she seemed to have caught the interests of a group of denizens. A big, muscular, shark demon seemed to be the one in charge while smaller demons of all kinds followed him around.

"And what's a girlie like you doing out here?" The shark demon smirked, showing off his sharp teeth. "Don't you know I'm in charge around these parts?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just exploring, I will get out of your way." Y/n smiled awkwardly and tried to step around the group.

"Where do you think you're going? I'm not just letting you go." The demon stepped in front of her again.

"Yeah!" One of the other demons yelled.

"So, what are you going to give us?"

The group started to get uncomfortably close. Some started even pulling at her cloak.

"Leave me alone! Stop it!" Y/n looked around in horror in the hopes of finding help but everyone ignored it. She had to remember, she was in hell now and this was normal here.

Just as she lost hope, someone intruded.

"Leave the girl alone fuckers!" The demon had white hair all over his body, had six arms, and had one white and one black eye. "Or I'll fucking kill you!" He held up two guns.

"Then do it, cowardly SLUT!" One yelled.

As soon as he heard it bullets went flying, some of them barely missed her.

"You alright?" He held out a hand. "The name's Angel Dust."

"Y/n", she smiled, "does stuff like this happen often here?"

"Yeah, you'll learn how to defend yourself." Angel put the guns away and quickly fixed his hair. "Which way were you going, love?"

"I don't really know. I was just looking around, exploring."

"Then I have to show you the best places to party. Come on!"

Zestial was sitting through a painfully long meeting. The overlords of the newer VVV-group were picking fights with the others. There was an especially strong tension between Vox and Alastor. Subjects that normally took two minutes to discuss, took now ten.

Zestial decided to stay out of most of it, they weren't worth his time and the headaches that would be caused by arguing with them. He wondered what Y/n was doing, knowing her, she was probably bored out of her mind, dramatically laying down on the couch in woeful self-pity. He smiled at the thought.

"What has you smiling so, Zestial?" Alastor asked, putting everyone's attention on the spider demon.

"Doth thee knoweth the declaring curiosity hath killed the cat?" Zestial asked.

The Radio demon's smile widened. "Only if the cat got caught but if you don't want to tell us then so be it."

He wasn't sure why he had reacted that way. It's true that Zestial was worried about people finding out he was harbouring an angel but this seemed to be an overreaction. Why was he so overprotective of the girl? Had he already grown fond of her? No, he shouldn't be. The spider demon only needed her for his own agenda, that's the only reason he's protecting her.

The meeting took another two hours, when it was finally finished. Zestial and Carmilla swiftly made their way to her mansion. Zestial entered the common room, shocked to find it empty.

"Y/n, where art thou?" He asked, maybe she was hiding somewhere or she made up another ridiculous activity. "Y/n!"

He didn't get an answer. The two overlords started searching around the room. When there was no sign of her, they looked around the rest of the mansion, still nothing.

Zestial looked up, seeing the open window. She wouldn't have.. No! She would, she definitely would.

"That insolent angel."

Part 3

Masterlist/Request guidelines

#hazbin hotel #reader insert #hazbin hotel requests #x reader #reader requests #hazbin hotel zestial #zestial #zestial x reader #zestial hazbin hotel #hazbin #hotel hazbin

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coallise · 6 months

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My Deer Overlord

An idea of how the overlords ended up stopping Alastor from taking them all out and invite him into the fold.

Zestial sighed as he looked over the current overlords. There were only four of them left that the so called ‘radio demon' hadn't made disappear.

“We need a plan to deal with him,” Carmilla said, “maybe if we pulled all our resources together?”

“Marque and Isabella tried that and they had twice the resources we all have combined.” Zeezi complained.

“Well, does anyone have a better idea?” Carmilla said, taking a deep breath. She had her daughters hide, the demon was going after overlords and powerful targets and she wanted to keep the target off of their backs.

Zestial raised a hand, “I do, but I hesitate to offer it.”

“Tell us,” Carmilla urged. She wanted to spend time with her daughters again without fearing he would go after them.

Zestial coughed and turned to Rosie, “I believe thou might be able to get close. Offer him a meal or such. Information shows he is a cannibal and he only attacks women when they attack first.”

Rosie gulped, “you want me to try and charm the most dangerous sinner we've seen yet?”

“Please, maybe even offer him a spot as an overlord? Have him sign this,” Zestial handed over a contract that said those who sign can not directly harm the others. Zestial had already signed it. “Felt it was appropriate to bring back the pack.”

The gathered overlords looked it over before signing it. Rosie held it close to her chest and went searching for him.

“Well hello, what is a lovely woman like you doing in this part of town?” A man in a red overcoat and microphone staff bowed, holding out his hand. Rosie put her hand in his and he kissed it.

“Just looking for a rascal that was running around,” Rosie smiled. He had a big grin and the look of a cannibal. She felt safe with one of her own.

“Oh, who is this rascal?”

“The radio demon, I heard we had the same taste and wished to dine with him,” Rosie flashed him her sharp teeth. The man pondered something before locking their arms together.

“Oh what the hay! Lead the way, ma’am. The name's Alastor,” he smiled and Rosie felt panic.

“It's Rosie, darling,” she said. They started walking to the colony together.

“The cannibal overlord?” A bit of radio static could be heard.

“The very same. Behave yourself and you won't end up on the menu,” Rosie gripped his arm tighter. The other cannibals waved and greeted Rosie happily, a few stopped them to ask for advice before they could go on their way to the bistro.

“Quite the popular lady,” Alastor said, pulling Rosie's chair out for her.

“We're a tight knit bunch in the colony. You have to be in this world,” Rosie ordered her meal before putting her elbows on the table and head on her fists, “shall we continue with pleasantries or shall we get down to business?”

“And what kind of business are you offering?”

“I want you to keep my colony out of your murder rampages. I would be delighted if you dropped some of the bodies here, but my first priority is their safety.”

Alastor hummed and swirled his glass of blood, “I suppose I can agree with that. Provided that no one harms me here either.”

“You reek of death, dear, they will see you as one of their own. If you make regular visits, even more so.” Rosie waved off before offering her hand, “so, a deal? You leave my cannibal’s alone and you can freely come and go?”

“Hmm, the ones that are ‘yours’ only count as being in here? Is it every cannibal?” Alastor asked.

“Other than a few exceptions, mine consist of those with a winning smile and black eyes,” Rosie waved to show almost everyone in that area fit the description, “thou I suppose we can just say that polite cannibals are mine.”

Alastor hummed before shaking her hand, the area flashed with Rosie's ink black magic.

“Now that is settled, the other overlords wanted me to offer you a seat,” Rosie smiled as the waiter came with their food.

“Oh, I’m not interested in being an overlord, I just enjoy the chaos,” Alastor waved off, taking a bite of his spaghetti. Rosie leaned over to wipe the sauce off his chin, noticing how stiff his right side seemed to be.

“Shame, the overlords you haven’t killed are the ones that are tough to piss off. Tell me, are you afraid of spiders, Alastor?” Rosie asked, taking a neat bite of food.

“Not particularly,” he said.

“How about spiders as big as people? Ones that, when they die, spew acid? How about ones where a small bite paralyzes you. Those are the ones under Zestial’s command,” Rosie took a long drink of her blood, “then there is Carmilla. The angelic weapons dealer who has connections with all layers of hell. Do you want to risk her ire either?”

“Hmm, and the others?” Alastor hummed, twirling his spaghetti on his fork.

“Well, you know me, I have the colony on my side. Zeezi is much the same, she has her, I believe they call themselves kaijus.”

Alastor hummed and took a few bites of his food, “pray tell, if I did accept the generous offer, what is in it for me?”

“Well, we have an overlord pack where none of us can directly hurt another overlord and their family, also we get together monthly to decide what goes on in the pentagon. Sometimes Lucifer and his wife join in,” Rosie took out the pack and showed him. He carefully scanned it and memorized the signatures. “Would you prefer one of them to take advantage of you being injured? I am sure Zestial has already begun weaving a web.”

Alastor touched his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at the smiling woman, “you are an observant one, Rosie.”

“I need to be,” Rosie said. “Are you signing or should I tell the others you refused?”

Alastor looked at the paper before taking one of the feathers off of Rosie’s hat, pricking his finger and then signing the paper with his blood.

“You are so dramatic! I love it!” Rosie laughed, the pack disappeared, probably went back to Zestial. The two continued to chat between themselves until they had to leave. Alastor promising he would host their next dinner together.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin rosie #radiorose

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walkswithmyfather · 8 months

Text

“Mathew 8:27 But the men marvelled, saying, What manner of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him!

“There is absolutely nothing that can stand in the way of Jesus.

No enemy has the power He simply casts out demons.

No teacher or skeptic can stump him with a question.

No disease can withstand his call for healing.

Not even nature can baffle or threaten him.

He is not just a man

He is God's Son

He is Immanuel

God with us.

Until we go home to Him it is only then we will fully understand who He is. We can be secure that He will care for us and bring us to his home

Fear is not just being troubled with circumstances it also is the uncertainty about what will ultimately happen to us.

Jesus shows his disciples that their safety, their destiny, is under his command and nothing can withstand his grace offered to bless his disciples

Isaiah 43:2 When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.

There are sometimes times in our lives when we have been hit by blow after blow, and we feel depleted and also defeated. During these occasions, it is easy to lose all hope. The good news is God does not want us to live out our daily existence discouraged or hopeless so He has given us His word as a source of blessing and encouragement.

Deuteronomy 20:4 For the Lord your God is he that goeth with you, to fight for you against your enemies, to save you.

One of the most encouraging thoughts for you to know is that even when things seem the worst God is in control. He easily overcomes what feels impossible to us.

Every time we struggled with feelings of loss and defeat we have to remind ourselves so our hope can be restored.

1 Corinthians 15:57 But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

1 John 5:4 For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.

God does not want us to be overcome by feelings of defeat and despair in spite of the crushing blows we receive. He has given us His powerful word full of encouragement and hope to strengthen us instead.

His will for us is that we live our lives in victory.

We all have battles that we fight every day . It might not be a physical war against other human beings, but rather our struggles may be against our own thought patterns, bad habits or weaknesses.

Sometimes these situations and circumstances that we face that are out of our control. When this occurs read Deuteronomy 20:4 this verse can fill us with hope and courage.

It reminds us that it is the Lord who goes with us to fight for us against our enemies whoever or whatever that may be. God not only fights for us but he also gives us the victory.

2 Samuel 22:18 He delivered me from my strong enemy, and from them that hated me: for they were too strong for me.

Heavenly Father

Please act with Your strong power to still the storms in the hearts of those we love. Give them peace and calm and lead them to know that Jesus is their source of help. We ask You to replace our sadness with joy, defeat with victory, and weariness with praise. Help us when we feel defeated, weary or sad to focus on Your blessings in our life rather than on my circumstances. Remind us to praise You the Father at all times so we may obtain life and hope. We ask that You bring all things to our memory that concern You and Your plans in my life. Please increase our hope as we focus on Your Word. Help us to not be conformed to this world but transformed by the renewing of our mind. Strengthen and renew us in our innermost being. Destroy the fiery darts of the enemy that attempt to pierce our souls. May we always hear Your voice and obey Your will. Father, help us to overcome today fears. Thank you for the ones in our life that Love us. We praise You and Love You Lord in all circumstances. In Jesus’ name we pray

Amen.”

(Via)

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clonememesfrikyeah · 4 months

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Captain Fordo under his helmet during the battle of Coriscant: “Thou shall show no fear, in the mighty eyes of the force I shall hold my post. This is where I make my stand. *huffs* I will not abandon my post. I am my perimeter, and my perimeter is me. Shit. Shit! I am my perimeter and my perimeter is me!”

#captain fordo #alpha 77 #incorrect clone wars quotes #clone wars 2003 #my post #Star Wars #tcw #the clone wars #alpha arcs #the clones #clone trooper

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supermaks · 3 months

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Haas bro tears in my eyes

#THOU SHALL SHOW NO FEAR #kit speaks #canada gp 2024

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daemon-in-my-head · 7 months

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I saw your post about the memories being gone forever but there’s a dialogue between the Dark Urge and Withers

Dark Urge: My old memories and past self - I can never get them back?

Withers: If thou couldst recall in full every barbarity thou hadst committed, every tragedy thou hadst authored... wouldst thou truly want to?

Dark Urge: It is a dishonour to my victims to not recall their names.

Withers: All their names are written. One day, if thou truly wishest, I will show thee, and we shall remember them together.

So Withers can restore Durge’s memories to a degree. Perhaps if Durge really wanted to Withers could restore even more. I have hope that the love Durge had for Gortash isn’t lost to the sands of time

Alright Anon first up, I love the idea that there's still this sliver of hope for Durge out there. Durge needs all the hope they can get.

But imma be honest, I don't think Withers means remember as in "congratulations your memories are back" but more like "these are the people you killed, the sins you committed, remember them and be sure to never do this again."

"All there names are written. And, if thou truly wishest, I will show thee, and we shall remember them together."

Considering its the scribe of the dead saying this, I do think he just has a list of names ready to show Durge if there should ever be a need for it. And while Jergal is a god and could probably restore Durge, memories and all inclusive, I don't think he ever would.

Because why would he risk that? Jergal is lawful neutral in 5, used to be lawful evil in previous editions. He's just here to clean up the dead threes mess and definitely not because he likes it.

Restoring Durges memories would be a gamble at best and utter foolishness at worst. Because they wouldn't just regain memories of Gortash, but also of the cult programming, the inherent fear and devotion to Bhaal, their original plans, yada yada. It could put all the "work" Jergal/Withers put into Durge in jeopardy.

Buuuuuuut this isn't to say that memories of Gortash are 100% lost. The human brain is weird and we tie smells and taste and all sorts of stuff to memories, so it's very well possible Durge gets handed a bit of steel and he has the faint memory or idea of someone who did the same once. Or they walk around the Gate and this one spot just feels particularly wonderful or dreadful or what have you.

It's just the "real" picturesque memories that are not available any longer, but certain emotions are still very much there from what it seems ig (and I suppose a revival by yours truly puts a halt to the memory loss, dizzy spells and all that fun stuff)

#durge spoilers #durgetash #bg3 durge #durge #ask #bg3 spoilers #bg3

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beyonddarkness · 2 years

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Sauron Unchained

Remember when Sauron mentioned "THAT first sunrise," on the raft in the Vision? (Not THE first sunrise. The sun already existed. He's talking about THAT first sunrise, after Morgoth was defeated.)

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

That sunrise was a pretty big deal.

Let's review this moment Sauron describes from The Silmarillion.

(Of the Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath.)

Before the rising of the sun Eärendil slew Ancalagon the Black, the mightiest of the dragon-host, and cast him from the sky; and he fell upon the towers of Thangorodrim, and they were broken in his ruin. Then the sun rose, and the host of the Valar prevailed, and well-nigh all the dragons were destroyed; and all the pits of Morgoth were broken and unroofed, and the might of the Valar descended into the deeps of the earth. [...]

Then Morgoth was bound.

[...] Thus an end was made of the power of Angband in the North, and the evil realm was brought to naught; and out of the deep prisons a multitude of slaves came forth beyond all hope into the light of day, and they looked upon a world that was changed.

Those slaves who emerged were not the servants of Morgoth (like Orcs, Balrogs, etc.), but rather Elves, the likes of Gwindor, who were captured, imprisoned and enslaved, sent deep into the mines to dig.

But Sauron described his experience from their perspective.

Sooo... why?

"When Morgoth was defeated, it was as if a great, clenched fist had released its grasp from my neck. And in the stillness of THAT first sunrise, at last! I felt the light of The One again."

Some complain:

Why did the writers make it seem like Morgoth made Sauron evil, against his will?

-----They didn't.-----

Why did they change Sauron's character from liking Morgoth because of efficiency, to loathing him?

-----They didn't.-----

Why did they make it so Sauron only allied himself with Morgoth in order to survive?

-----They didn't.-----

They didn't change anything. They didn't even have to add anything. None of this came out of the clear blue just for fun. It's not even just for the sake of making the show.

Sauron manipulated Galadriel, but he did so with the TRUTH, making it easier for her to pity him than if he flat-out lied.

["And in the stillness of that first sunrise..."]

(Meanwhile, he talks about forgiveness.)

Galadriel: "No penance could ever erase the evil you have done."

Sauron: "That is not what you believe." [...] After our victory, you said that whatever I'd done before, I could be free of it now. [...] I told you the truth! I told you that I had done evil, and you did not care! Because you knew that our past meant nothing, weighed against our future. :D"

What is this 'trauma' he allegedly experienced? Sure, he was wary of the consequences of crossing Morgoth, but I mean ... he was the guy--Morgoth's #1--his right hand Maia--his most devoted servant. He would never do anything in disobedience or rebellion. Else how would he achieve such a status?

The implication of his tale is not that he was FORCED to Morgoth's allegiance, giving him this general fear that was finally lifted when Morgoth fell.

Something happened.

He made ONE mistake.

(And since Patrick said they're not in the business of pure Easter eggs, there's a REASON they showed this.)

In Sauron's most humiliating moment, being in the jaws of Huan, Lúthien told him "that he should be stripped of his raiment of flesh, and his ghost be sent quaking back to Morgoth; and she said: 'There everlastingly thy naked self shall endure the torment of his scorn, pierced by his eyes, unless thou yield to me the mastery of thy tower.' (The Silmarillion: Of Beren and Lúthien).

Before that, Sauron had it all. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he already had Beren (who had a price put on his head by Morgoth) IN HIS PRISON. But hearing Lúthien sing to Beren in the hour of Finrod's death, he sought great reward for bringing her to Morgoth. When his dying servant told him that Huan was there, he was like, Oh. I got this.

Things went sideways, and he had no choice but to yield to Huan, or face Morgoth's wrath... so he let them go.

As a result, Beren and Lúthien waltzed their way into Angband, stole a Silmaril (eventually) and escaped.

So, um...?

Charlie referenced what Lúthien told Sauron, when speaking about the 'clenched fist' line. His paraphrasing is quite unnerving, given that he knows what backstory we are going to see next season... and I don't know... but I would like to... and it makes me wonder.

"You can go whimpering back to your master and tell him that you've let me in. You've failed. You haven’t defended your kingdom." [...] I read from that this thing that Morgoth is so powerful and so scary, that it would've meant consequences for Sauron. - Charlie Vickers

Where exactly was Sauron after his failure? He dwelt in Taur-nu-Fuin for a while, but a lot of time passed between then and the end of the War. So...WHERE DID HE GO? Wouldn't the most devoted and powerful of all the servants of Morgoth be actively involved in the defense against the host of the Valar?? One might say things were trending upward for him...

...until Finrod, Beren, Lúthien, and Huan came along.

How long would it have taken Morgoth to find out that everything was Sauron's fault? How long would it have taken to hunt Sauron down, as he fled?

Not very long, I reckon.

[...] there must have been an element to their relationship where Morgoth was someone he feared at times, or someone that would punish him when he failed. [...] there must have been some truth in [the clenched fist] line. - Charlie Vickers

No wonder he described the end of the War as if he had been among the slaves who emerged from the deep prisons..."beyond all hope into the light of day"...reminiscing the first sunrise after the overthrow of Thangorodrim, and the great, clenched fist that released its grasp from his neck as a result.

In the Great War, he wasn't just sitting in a tree, or even in a back-up tower, watching from the side-lines.

He failed Morgoth.

Miserably.

And was punished for it.

No wonder he was missing during the War of Wrath.

"What do you know of darkness?"

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n30nwrites · 1 year

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Bring Me To Life (Prologue)

Summary: Against all odds, you've survived. Having graduated high school and moved out of your Parent's place, your sibling decides to join you for the summer, and your first stop is Santa Cruz in California, you had always wanted to live there anyways so why not now that you're experiencing freedom? One problem: This doesn't look like the 21st century, instead it looks like a scene from your favorite movie, in fact it looks exactly like your favorite movie.

How are you meant to survive in the murder capital of the world? With vampires of all things, and your sibling hates this movie.

a/n: prologue for this fanfic, this will also be on AO3 and wattpad. Preface for this, fuck Max :}

Reader: Male Reader, uses Y/N, third person.

Oc uses they/she pronouns. Will be using both, Y/n refers to them as both sibling and sister, which is okay

Fandom: The Lost Boys

Pairing(s): Michael Emerson x Reader, Paul x Reader, Dwayne x Reader, Marko x Reader, David x Reader, Sam Emerson x Nonbinary! Oc, Edgar Frog x Nonbinary! Oc, Alan Frog x Nonbinary! Oc,

It was one thing moving the United States to California by yourself, it was another thing bringing your 15-year-old sibling with you, not to live with you, but to stay just until summer was over and school was starting again, your parents believed it would help with their 'rebellious streak'. That streak being that they just don't care enough to do class work and keep staying up all night playing video games, therefore they fall asleep in class.

Nik had a firm belief in changing the radio whenever any song that they didn't like came on, and you had a firm belief that your sibling needed to shut up because you liked your music and if you had to drive without some good tunes you would probably turn into the next psycho on the news.

You two did listen to similar music, but for this trip it was specifically 80s and 90s songs that you shouted loudly, windows were rolled down because the air conditioner in your car didn't work. It was small and shitty and cost a year of pay, thankfully your parents were there to let you live rent free. One of the few things you could be thankful for.

"Do you know how to be quiet?" Your sibling groaned, their jacket wrapped around their body despite how hot it was, "Put on Hozier, or Doja, hell I'll even take Taylor Swift over this... What is this shit?"

'Cry little sister'

"I know damn well you aren't talking to me about my music taste-"

'Thou shall not fall'

"What's wrong with mine?"

Come, come to your brother

"It's literally only tiktok songs, half of them aren't even good."

'Thou shall not die'

"At least I don't say 'They sung this on Glee'"

'Unchain me, sister'

"Every hot, mentally ill, gay person went through a Glee faze."

Thou shall not fear

"I didn't"

'Love is with your brother'

"That's why I said hot."

'Thou shall not kill'

You quickly stuck your tongue out in a childish way, before looking back into the road, ignoring your sibling who mumbled and repeated your words. "Theres a reason we're heading to Santa Cruz. Found a nice place right near the beach so we can-"

"Sleep all day, and party all night. I know, you've said it hundreds of times." Nik had heard the phrase from you so many times, you had tried to show them your favorite movie, even almost tricked them into it, but they were quick to leave the room. They simply hated it because you loved it, something you were forced to accept about them.

The car ride became silent as you got closer, to fill it, Nik had turned up the radio as it switched to a different song.

"Finally some MJ." The beat of Billie Jean came in, causing you to start tapping your hands to it as your merged.

"She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene" The two of you belted the lyrics, switching over the 80s playlist to one consistently of Michael Jackson. "I said don't mind, but what do you mean, I am the one" you shook your head, "Who will dance" you turned to your sibling and sung the words to them before turning back, repeating it each time you sung, "on the floor" again "in the round?" and then turned back, "She said I am the one, who will dance on the floor in the round"

The house that you bought with a loan wasn't the biggest, at least not compared to your parents house. Two bedrooms, One master and One guest, and 1 in a half bathrooms. The half bathroom was connected to the master bedroom, which Nik tried to get but was quickly locked out. They would be staying in the guest room, while you set it up they would help. They were also supposed to attempt to find a job this summer, as their parents wanted Nik to learn some responsibility.

"Okay, change outfits, shower if you need to! We are going to the beach!" You were excited, thrumming almost. You felt as if you belonged.

"I'm tired."

"Party all night!" You yelled, grabbing a suit case filled with your clothes. The two of you didn't have a lot. A few suitcases filled with clothes, and then a few boxes for the rooms. You didn't even have mattresses yet.

"Let's just sleep a bit." A nap did sound good, you didn't have the best sleep due to the anxiety about the drive.

"Fine, a nap! I'm setting an alarm." Nik went into your room, both of you grabbing the blankets and laying them on the floor, setting up some pillows and collapsing as soon as you could.

Instead of waking up to your alarm, you woke up to Nik shaking your shoulder, harsh rain hitting the window and the house was shaking.

"The doors are opening."

You stood up quick, running out of the bedroom to the backdoor refusing to close. You pushed against it but it quickly fell open, so you held the door. "Grab the heavy boxes." Nik followed through, pushing against the doors as lightning flashed. "It wasn't supposed to storm."

"Don't they get Hurricanes here." A siren went off, "Well-"

"Not another tornado." You groaned. You had your fair shair of them, being where your from. "We need to grab our shit, head to the basement."

The house shook again, you two grabbed your phones and chargers, rushing down into the basement that still had cobwebs. Nik almost ran upstairs at the sight of them, claiming they would rather take their chance with the tornado. You had to basically pulled them down as you two sat in the basement, the house shook as you two fell to the ground, hitting your heads.

Your eyes rolled back, your vision turns black as your body hits the ground. Your siblings hand lays against yours as their body falls onto you, and in that moment, you had gone through the impossible.

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dustorange · 4 months

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omg pls share more about your sub stack project??

okay so SABBATEANISM.

the over-under: in the 17th century, in the muslim world, there was a man named shabbetai sevi, and he was making enormous, global waves because he was believed to be the messiah. i’m talking seriously, deeply, truly believed to be the messiah by people from all over the world. enormous amounts of gold donated. etchings carved. sincere true belief. kabbalist mystic etc. He was born in smyrna—he travels all over—the grand vizier has him imprisoned. It is a problem, of course, if this man is claiming to be the jewish messiah and people are believing him. Zevi is transferred between prisons before he ends up in one in Adrianople. The sultan, MEHMED THE HUNTER, hears about him and summons him to his court. Mehmet asks Zevi to explain himself. Who is he—really?

Here’s a good-enough retelling of sevi’s response, poetically true if not 100% word-for-word—although historicity matters loads:

“Shabbathai Zevi answered, with a trembling heart, and said, ‘My lord, the Sultan, I am a Jewish Rabbi. I fear the great God, the God of Abraham, from my youth till now. As to what men are saying concerning me, that I am the Messiah, when it shall come to pass at the time accepted by the great God, the question will be settled, whether it shall be accomplished by my hands or by those of another man. This is known to our God.’”

When the Sultan heard his words, he was wroth, and said, ‘If it be true, according to thy words, that thou fearest God, I will prove thee, as thy father Abraham was proved.’

What choice was Zevi asked to make to prove himself? An oft-repeated claim is that Zevi was given three choices: impalement; a trial by ordeal with arrows, which would, if Zevi’s claims to messiahdom were true, be deflected by heaven; or conversion to Islam. This is fascinating because it sets up three dimensions through which we can view a person’s belief:

Impalement—to die for your beliefs without, presumably, truly believing those beliefs. This is a hardnose kind of surrender. It lets you escape interpersonal shameâ€”you won’t live to see the shame in your supporters’ faces, but you will also be giving up the game, implicitly, ante-mortem; you are saying that you are a fake. After all, if you were real, why not take the chance and face the arrows?

Trial by ordeal—to keep up the charade to the very end. This option, one hopes, would be preferable. And if the arrows are not deflected, hasn’t the Sultan just made the messiah into a martyr? Of course, seeing the so-called messiah’s claims refuted, and seeing the messiah bleeding and deadâ€¦it may show definitively that you were false.

Apostasy—to save your skin but bear the judgment of your disciples.

BEFORE WE SAY WHAT ZEVI CHOSE, we should toward the historiography surrounding Sabbateanism. Also, just internet history in general. Above you may have noticed the red-flag term: “oft-repeated claim.” It was said in relation to Zevi’s three-choices-ism. If you Google or Microsoft Edge (Bing?) the phrase “Zevi” or “Sevi” or “false messiah” alongside “three choices,” you will see that there are many websites describing the tripartite choice Zevi faced.

Even this Fine Judaica antiques seller, Kestenbaum & Company, typed the “three choices” story in their digital history-of-the-piece description.

And our nail-in-the-coffin, this-is-the-absolute-definitive-truth proof: Wikipedia says it.

Quoth that foul beast Wikipedia (okay, maybe I’m giving away where this is going):

The kaymakam informed Sultan Mehmed IV and Sabbatai was removed from Abydos and taken to Adrianople,[9] where the vizier gave him three choices; subject himself to a trial of his divinity in the form of a volley of arrows (should the archers miss, his divinity would be proven); be impaled; or convert to Islam.[16]

That’s that rumor we described earlier! Except is it really true? Let’s check out an interesting citational character from that Wikipedia excerpt—that [16]. That [16] should tell us something about the kind of historiography we’re working with here. The footnote source labeled [16] in the paragraph above that belongs to the Wikipedia article for Shabbetai Sevi is a 2011 book titled God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything. This book is by Christopher Hitchens. And indeed, on page 171, Mr. Hitchens lays out the three-part system we are familiar with by now.

And yet no other historical source that I have found has been able to back up this three-choice idea. Instead, they relay something very different. Something much more dualistic. Something that sounds much simpler 2 our two ears. Zevi was offered two choices. Go searching on your own for old sources of this event. I’ll give one here, but you don’t have to just take my word for it.

Giacomo Saban, in “Sabbatai Sevi as Seen by a Contemporary Traveler,” relays:

When the Sultan saw him, he asked him if it was true that he was the Messiah of the Jews, as was being said everywhere. The Jew gave the Gran Signor the same answer he had given the Vizir, namely, that this was not true, although the Jews were making it known as such. "Perhaps," he said, "they have recognized in me certain talents and particular knowledge that God has granted me, and for this reason they prefer me to any other. I declare," he added, "in the presence of Your Majesty not to be the Messiah; in fact, I renounce entirely such a dignity."

"So be it," the Sultan answered, "but in order to remove the scandal that you have brought on the People of this Empire and in order to free your Nation from this lie, it is necessary that you become a Muslim or that you now resolve to die." He was given no more than a moment to decide. Without thinking too much about it, he readily declared that he wanted to live and die a good turk.

In the end, Shabbetai Zevi says that he is not the messiah—and not even, any longer, a Jew. He becomes a Muslim, a turban wearer (a very meaningful signifier of renunciation of what he was and acceptance of something else in this place-and-time), and, to put it charitably, pretty much a door holder for the Turks. (More, too, but for brevity, we’ll leave it there.)

All of this! What does all of this matter? It’s some microhistory in the Jewish Ottoman story. So what that Wikipedia got it wrong, said THREE instead of TWO? So what that Wikipedia getting it wrong influenced the narrative for pop culture pop history articles about Sevi?

IT MATTERS BECAUSE TWO OPTIONS VERSUS THREE OPTIONS IS VERY DIFFERENT. It matters because it shows a vulnerability in our information production line in the internet era. And it matters because if he was wrong about the basic, most fundamental details of Shabbetai Zevi’s story, what else might the author of God Is Not Great be wrong about?

Anyway! The substack is going to be called Three Choices From Adrianople. It’s going to go deep into the players in the Zevi story—Zevi, Mehmet, Nathan of Gaza, the vizier—in historical profile kind of way, but other articles are going to cover other false messiahs in the Ottoman world. I’m also hoping to tackle some theological elements, plus some MORE big historiographical issues.

#SABBATEANISM I DIDNT SAY BUT SABBATSANISM IS THE TERM FOR THE BELIEF SYSTEM OF ZEVIS SUPPORYERS AND FOLLOWERS #SOME OF WHOM MAINTAINED THAT HE WAS THE MESSIAH EVEN AFTER HE RENOUNCED THE TITLE HIMSELF #anyway sabbateanjsm is a major domino for frankism and lots of other “messianic” figures in the ottoman world

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