#tog fears

[deiaiko]

#20.5 Care

"Agni…" Grace shook him awake.

Agni stirred on the bed, a little displeased. Grace was being a little rough today. Ever since they started living together in this new timeline, Agni usually woke up to Grace kissing his cheek, not an urgent grip on his shoulder. It would have raised his awareness, but for some reason, his body was refusing to do so.

"Please, wake up." Grace begged, voice a little wet.

Agni forced himself to open his eyes, squinting at the blinding light that made his head ache. Once his vision adjusted to the room, he saw that Grace was close to tears. He visibly deflated once Agni managed to lock gazes with him and finally let the dam break free. "Oh thank goodness. I've been trying to wake you a few times but you didn't respond so I thought–" Grace wiped his tears off and tried to regain himself.

"Wh-" Agni coughed weakly, his throat was so dry. What happened?

Grace began explaining anyway. "When I woke up I noticed that you had a fever. So I tried to check on you, but you were more sluggish than your normal sick days. So I was afraid that you were–"

Grace stopped mid-ramble as Agni found and squeezed Grace's hand, trying to stop him from panicking. Waiting for Grace to recollect himself, Agni pushed himself up to sit to make himself more awake. The world spun and a wave of nausea hit him full force. Agni pushed himself off the bed and stumbled a little when his knee tingled uncomfortably. Realizing this, Grace swooped him off his feet and carried him down to the bathroom.

Soon Agni found himself sitting down on the floor next to the toilet bowl. Grace draped a blanket over him before Agni realized he was shivering. Agni noticed that his breath was hot and his shirt clung to his skin from cold sweat. 

Because their bedroom and the bathroom were quite a hassle to go back and forth from, Grace prepared the water bed in the bathroom for them to use later, and Agni was thankful for his thoughtfulness. Grace then sat next to him and mindlessly rubbed on Agni's hunched back, up and down along his spine comfortingly.

As Agni emptied his stomach in the toilet, he hazily recalled taking a little more sleeping pills than he should have last night, plus drinking a few cups of wine beforehand. Though given the circumstances, he didn't know whether he could've stopped himself from doing so. In that case, he must've had a hangover, on top of the chills that he usually got after using his ice shinsu, which often developed into fever.

The room was quiet after the wave of nausea passed, and the silence was nice against his foggy mind. His breath was still slow and uneven, and his throat felt arid and sore. Grace didn't look like he was faring any better, with his eyes red and swollen, movement sluggish as if he was working on autopilot. Still, Grace tended to him patiently until Agni felt okay enough to lay back down on the bed.

However, Grace didn't join him as Agni thought he would, and instead made his way to the door. "I will get you some medicine."

"Do you know which to get?" Agni rasped out. When Grace didn't answer right away, Agni typed the answer in his pocket. "There, sent." Only then did Agni notice the time, so he added, "You should get breakfast as well, if you have not."

"Maybe. I won't leave for long." And Grace closed the door after saying that.

Agni was just hoping that Grace could have a breather from being cooped up to take care of him, but deep down he was relieved with that promise. After all, the thought of being left alone when his body felt like it was chained to the ground spiked his anxiety. His stomach churned as bad memories replayed in his mind from the reminder. He dragged his heavy feet and kneeled beside the toilet bowl for the second time, already missing the comfort of the bed. He retched to try getting rid of the awful feeling, but it wasn't effective when he had nothing else to empty.

As the sleep medication wore off, his thoughts also returned louder, and Agni was reminded again of why he decided to take another dose last night. It wasn't like him to do something so impulsive, but after Grace fell asleep crying, everything seemed too much to bear alone. He needed something to help him quiet all the guilt that he had piled up.

All the events leading up to that tragedy replayed vividly over and over. Each time he tried to think of ways it could've ended differently, but only a few seemed to have played in their favor. But of course, what good would it do him anyway? Because he couldn't change what had happened, even if he went back to the past. And the fact that they were gone was the reality he had to live with from now on.

Grace returned quicker than he had anticipated, with the food tray and all. But his complexion did look much better than before he left, so Agni felt somewhat relieved.

"Bam is outside," was what Grace said as a greeting. And yeah, it did explain a lot for his better mood.

"You should spend time with him." Because Grace needed someone to cheer him up, and who else knew how to do it better than himself? "Don't worry about me."

"How could I not?" Grace sat next to him, putting the food tray on the floor, completely ignoring Agni's former suggestion. Grace brushed his palm on Agni's forehead, the clear temperature difference made his eyebrows knit together in concern. "Your fever rose."

"It's not usually this stubborn." Agni exhaled some of his frustration, and began coughing as his body reminded him of how dry his throat was. He took a careful sip of the water that Grace offered and waited for it to settle before taking the medicine, swallowing it dry out of habit. 

"You should eat something." Grace pulled the tray so it was within Agni's reach. "Or drink some water, you're dehydrated."

Agni groaned, though he knew he needed to get something in his system to make his body focus on recovering. He nibbled on the crackers and drank the water little by little, deciding to take his time rather than risk it. Grace looked very satisfied when Agni managed to get everything down, which in turn also made Agni feel somewhat accomplished.

Not long afterward, Agni yawned, tired after being kept awake by the nausea and his loud thoughts. Grace had pulled Agni to sit on his lap, body facing each other to share as much warmth while keeping Agni upright, or else he might have an upset stomach later.

The way Grace's breath brushed past his neck grounded him, as it was an easy thing to focus on. Time passed slowly, and it would've lulled him to sleep if Grace didn't let the silence linger. There was a tenseness in Grace's shoulders, and the way Grace hugged him a little tighter than usual was enough to tell him not to leave his wave controller alone drowning in his thoughts. The moment Grace's breathing started to get uneven, Agni knew that Grace was crying. Absentmindedly, he began rubbing and patting Grace's back, earning him some sniffles. It was pathetic that this was the only thing Agni could offer to support Grace, but he couldn't think of anything better that he was able to give as of the moment.

Agni didn't cry, though he wished he could, so his chest could relieve some of the pressure and stop aching. To think that they were willing to save him without thinking of the consequences, was something Agni still had a hard time believing. That he was able to hold Grace like this was all thanks to them. He could've died that day if Rak didn't protect him, or he could've lost his mind by living in that damned place if Isu and Hatz didn't come for him. He missed his old team, both dead and alive, and all that he left behind in that war time. He never admitted it out loud, but god he missed them.

Eventually, Grace pulled away. His eyes were red and puffy, but his movements were no longer on autopilot. He tucked Agni back to bed after checking his temperature, saying that it had gone lower, and evidently it ceased some of his worry.

Agni snuggled closer to Grace, finding comfort at the thought of him. Alive, real and close by. "Thank you, for being here." 

The corner of Grace's lips pulled upwards in a gentle smile, "You too." His free hand ran through Agni's hair and massaged his scalp. "Get better soon."

Agni started to drift off to sleep then, comfortably tucked up under a blanket and safe in Grace's embrace. He remembered the way Grace placed a lingering kiss on his forehead before Agni was out completely.

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[incorrecttowerofgodquotes]

Me going into New World’s first anniversary event: Oh, it’s gonna be a fun beach event with the girls in swimsuits for the weirdos out there

Actual event: DARK FUTURE WHERE BAM FUCKING DIED

[firehcart]

“ once upon a time, ” she said to him, to the world, to herself, “ in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom . . . very much. ” independent & mutually exclusive aelin ashyrver galathynius, of sjm's throne of glass, penned by sora.

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

i love you feyre archeron, i love you nesta archeron, i love you elena gilbert, i love you princess bloom of domino, i love you briana irene matthews, i love you izuku midoriya, i love you yuji itadori, i love you wu zetian, i love you tanjiro kamado, i love you alina starkov, i love you percy jackson, i love you the baudelaires, i love you nikki maxwell, i love you twilight sparkle, i love you avatar korra, i love you merlin, i love you barry allen, i love you main characters

[excelsior9173]

i never really thought about it before but it’s hitting me now-

big shoutout to sleep token for inspiring my creativity again. even if i’m not really actively making or sharing anything. it has my brain turning ideas over and imagining the possibilities. they have me feeling like creating again and that’s something i haven’t felt since high school

i went from not making a single piece of art since i was like, 17, to now i’m designing tattoos for myself 🥹 idk it just feels good to be creating. even if it’s just for myself, even if it’s not very good, it’s something and i’ve made it and it’s a good feeling

[upinyourcortex]

booker song alert

[alpinelogy]

For science. Has anyone here just even heard of tower of god? May or may not have to go bonkers about it again and just need to know. How many of yall will be what the hell is he yapping on about and how many of yall will at least have an inkling what I’m saying

[livingasaghost]

my throne of glass obsession is off the charts, almost worse than it was when i first read it (almost) somebody needs to sedate me when i finish empire tomorrow at work

[jimvasta]

Humans and their pets

The sentient races of the universe have just about started to get their heads, or approximate similar in function body parts, around the odd nature of humans but only recently have humans begun to bring other Earth creatures into space with them.

“Don't worry about Fluffy, he's totally ship trained.” the human designated Bradley spoke with frightening casualness about the creature sat at his side. It's muzzle was level with his hips and it's forward facing eyes showed it had predator history just as much as humans did.

“It has fangs.” Captain Mota'tog was unimpressed. The permissions were correctly stamped on the file and yet such a creature hardly appeared inoffensive.

“He does not, he's not poisonous. Of course some of his teeth are sharp, he's an omnivore.”

“He's a hunter.”

“He mostly hunts biscuits. He'll scavenge in the canteen from anyone soft enough to feed him. He's a certified well-being dog. People stroke him, he's got really soft fur, it makes them feel better. Look, he's wagging his tail, it means he likes you.”

Mota-tog whistled uncertainly.

“Oh wow!” One of the human engineers arrived at the airlock and dropped her bag as she stared at the dog. “So cute!”

Fluffy jumped round, tail wagging furiously, nuzzling in as the woman buried her hands in his warm soft fur.

“You are totally gorgeous. You're so fluffy and beautiful, you're like a little polar bear. You're here to stay, yes you are.” the woman happily baby talked to the dog who was more than half her size.

Bradley looked at the Captain and indicated. “See. Dogs make us happy.”

“You do all the care for it.”

“Of course.”

There were some false starts with the rest of the crew who were not so trusting of the huge pack hunter in their midst, but over the next few months they slowly learned to trust that the worst he would do was beg for food off their plates at meal times. Some of the braver aliens even began to pet him.

Then an alarm sounded.

Everyone raced to their emergency stations.

Bradley was in the cargo hold, his duty was to check the cargo was safe and secure.

He had quickly trained Fluffy to sit in a corner out of the way. It kept him safe in case anything shifted. The last thing he wanted was for his pet to get hurt by moving cargo.

The clang of magnetic grabs was deafening.

The alert was for a boarding raid.

Pirates.

Bradley cracked his knuckles and picked up a pry bar.

Through the rest of the ship there were varying degrees of panic.

A few of the other species could fight but most looked to the humans, having learned the way they fought when cornered and knowing their best hope to survive was to stay back and wait for the screaming to stop.

“What the fuck is that?!” the shout was shock and outrage. More anger than fear in the moment.

Crouching as it came through the main airlock was a creature taller and broader than anything else on the ship.

“Star spirits preserve us,” Mota'tog whistled. “A Batath.”

“It's a bloody troll is what it is.” Martins snapped.

Everyone froze as they heard the snarling and growling.

It was not coming from the Batath.

Fluffy arrived at speed and leapt, not caring can his opponent was huge. His fur was already matted with the blood of pirates and this was just another opponent.

The humans charged.

The Batath could only concentrate on one enemy at a time, it was used to picking off creatures as they ran, not fighting them off as something had its teeth deep around a knee trying to rip it apart.

The pirates ran when the Batath fell and the gore covered humans turned to face them.

Bradley let himself drop to the deck. “Don't worry, I'm fine. Good boy, Fluffy.”

Mota'tog shook his feathers as he watched the dog go back from snarling killing machine to placid fuss receiver. “I swear to the spirits, all Earth creatures are insane.”

[pergaminaa]

Modern au:

When baby manorian was under the age of two she wasn’t able to speak yet. however, she was able to communicate with her parents by making sounds and shaking her head to say no.

At that time, when Dorian asks her if he’s hungry he always rubs her stomach while getting her food. She picked up on it, and every time she gets hungry, she’d walk up to the nearest parent and rub her stomach while complaining in baby talk. They’d instantly know that she’s hungry and get her food because poor baby is in need of sustenance

[artethyst]

~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister!Reader/OC

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

“Remind me again why we are here?” Eris grumbled, signature frown plastered upon his unamused face.

“Because,” you enunciated, turning you attention to the babbling bundle secured in your Mate’s arms, his innocent eyes drinking up the frosty scenery around him in awe. “Just look at how happy he is!”

As if to further your argument, little Silas appeared squeal in agreement, his tiny legs kicking in glee as the High Lord carefully adjusted his hold on his delighted son- the boy’s excitable wriggling sending his already paranoid heart racing.

He thought he looked ridiculous.

Togged up in Winter attire- even though he could regulate his own temperature, you had insisted he don the furs of the Court you had travelled to as it would be “courteous”.

You thought he looked adorable.

His pale cheeks flushed, the rosiness only serving to bring attention to the delicate spattering of freckles across his tall nose- the fluffy material over his ears.

“My son looks absurd.”

“Our son looks absolutely darling!”

The boy in question too was swaddled, though instead in a mini snowsuit- little tufts of his red curls peeking from the soft fur that lined his puffy hood.

If he was squishable before, he was absolutely coddle worthy now.

His grabby hands were warm as ever, being unable to regulate his powers so young, the familiar heart emanating from his small body was a welcome comfort in Kallias’ court.

At first you were worried he was overheating, absolutely terrifying Eris one night when you shook him awake, frantic and near tears over the sleeping babe who was content as could be- his father’s curls wild with sleep and chubby cheeks flushed in innocent delight.

“Eris he’s burning up!” You were hanging off your groggy husband’s bicep in terror, watching his tired face meld into one of exasperation as you both were comically peering over the babe. “I-I think he has a fever- we must get the Healer-”

“My Love,” he let out, a tired smile on his wearied face, “it is normal for an Autumn babe. Ask my mother, it was the same for me as was with all of my brothers.”

“But-“

“Darling, he is fine,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple whilst securing his hand around your waist, his other moving to hover over the baby’s rosy cheeks, absorbing some of the heat so his little face became a complexion your heart could handle. “See?”

You sighed, your thumb coming to skin over the perfect cheek of your infant, not wanting to leave him.

“Can…Can we have him in our room?”

Eris sighed, unable to prevent a tender half smile gracing his features.

“I thought we agreed with the Healers that it was best for him to remain in his own chambers, hmmm?”

You huffed, pouting up at your husband with those twinkling violet eyes he had never once had the strength to deny.

“I am High Lady am I not? I can do as a like.” You stuck your nose in the air as Eris chuckled lowly, careful to not disturb the cooing babe who gently stirred in his cot, with an attitude he could only compare to your brother’s.

“If it will settle your ridiculous fears, My Star, I will bring him to our chambers.”

“You’re only saying that because you wish to go to back sleep.”

“Who am I to argue with my High Lady, hmm?”

That seemed like so long ago, the babe in question now able to babble in almost intelligible sentences and hold up the weight of his own head.

“Viviane and Kallias are our friends-“

“Your friends. Frankly, I would much rather-“

“High Lord. High Lady.” Eris was cut off by a warm voice- starkly opposed to his icy appearance. Kallias’ strong hand was mirthfully brought to Eris’, who shook it back with a mirroring fervour despite his earlier words.

You had to fight back a laugh, struggling to ignore the vexation he was hurtling down the bond.

Behave, you spoke into his mind, you should be grateful they invited such a grumpy Firehead as you into their home.

You didn’t have to look back at your husband to know he had rolled his eyes, adjusting Silas on his hip as he begrudgingly followed Kallias, an undeniable ghost of smile on his downturned lips as his son began cooing in awe at the glimmering structure they were entering.

“Dada!” He grinned, his little dimple pulling Eris from his mood, “brrrr!” A chubby finger pointed at the glacial carvings as he mimicked the noise you had been teaching him to help learn the seasons.

“Yes Silas, very clever. It is indeed cold.” Eris pressed a light kiss to Silas’ head, causing the babe to giggle, the noise a welcome salvation to the High Lord.

“Brrr!Brrr!”

“Precisely why I wanted to stay in Autumn…” Eris mumbled, agreeing with his son continued to note how freezing the temperature was.

“Brrr!”

At the sweet sound, you smiled back at the pair, pausing your conversation with Kallias to look upon your favourite boys, so alike in appearance it was sometimes scary.

“He wants you to say it,” you watched as the older male’s face contorted, perhaps finally understanding why his son kept repeating the noise. “He likes it when you copy him.”

“Brrr!” The boy said again, his wide eyes hopeful as he stared up at his father who, if anyone, could never deny his son.

“Yes Silas…Brrrr.” Eris relented, his voice notably dropping in volume as he made the noise, refusing to look you in the eye as you gave the other High Lord a wicked grin.

“You were not wrong High Lady,” Kallias smiled, “the High Lord of Autumn truly is powerless when it comes to his family.”

~

After a lengthy stroll around the grounds, you all joined Viviane in the drawing room. She squealed and brought you into a vivacious embrace, words tumbling from her mouth before you’d even had the chance to remove yourself from her iron grip.

“Oh I have missed you so! I have so much to tell you-“ it was then she let out a soft gasp, spotting Silas squirming in Eris’ arms. “Oh my! He has gotten so big!” She cried, moving to swoop him from Eris’ arms who you noticed was especially reluctant to hand him over.

You had noted that he had become increasingly territorial and protective over his son since his birth, at first thinking it was only because there had been a chance he was going to die, but even after Madja had saved him- you both, his worries had only grown.

You knew why.

Even if he never admitted it out loud. That despite everything- all his efforts to undo the suffering his father had caused, he still had many enemies.

Enemies that would love nothing more than to hurt him by taking away the things he loved most.

Silas frowned as he was transferred into the loud woman’s arms, his father’s infamous frown plastered ridiculously on his teeny tiny face.

Viviane attempted to make him smile, bouncing him on her hip and giving his little freckled cheek a gentle, cool peck.

“Do not mind him Vi,” you teased, finding your place in Eris’ free arms as he secured you against his chest immediately out of habit. “He has inherited more than just his looks from his father.”

And your words appeared to have a double meaning when your son’s grumpiness fell apart just as quickly as Viviane could coax it out of him with extra cuddles- just like The Lady of Autumn had assured you her own son had been a complete softie for at that age.

~

Eris payed little attention to the words Kallias was spewing- a proposed trade agreement that would be advantageous for both sides involved. He was far more focused on the glass of alcohol that was rather difficult to source in Autumn, hoping to be done sooner rather than later so he could spend some time with you and Silas without politics looming over his already troubled mind.

He took a small swig from his goblet, relaxing as the liquid warmed his throat, his slender hand coming to skim against his jaw as he read over the papers he had been presented with.

“You are lucky Eris,” Kallias spoke with honesty, causing the auburn haired male to look up at him and follow the other male’s eye-line to the grand window which displayed the winter gardens below where the two females and young boy were playing. “I remember a time where many High Lords- myself included, would have done anything for the Princess’ hand.”

Though a harmless comment, it made Eris’ blood boil. His possessiveness never once dwindling since the bond had first snapped for him all those centuries ago.

“I know.” Was all he replied, a smugness to his tone which complimented his signature smirk which did not fail to falter his façade. “I am a very lucky male indeed.”

“Years ago my wife told me she wished she possessed the kind of love you both do,” his tone was wistful as he watched his own mate with a biting fondness in his eye. “A passionate, suffocating kind of bond. One I was once afraid might melt a heart such as mine.”

“Careful, High Lord,” Eris’ smirk grew, “from experience, I must advise you. It is never wise to deny a lady’s desires.”

Kallias laughed, removing his gaze from Viviane who was making delicate snowflakes and sending them gently whirring against Silas’ button nose which had turned pink from the cold.

“We are trying for one ourselves…” Eris interpreted from his tone that it was a difficult subject, Fae pregnancies were rare and testing, even without the stresses of ruling a Court. “We can only hope they will be as much as a blessing as young Silas.”

It was Eris’ turn to become wistful then, focusing on his own Mate, even from afar catching the charming blush atop her fresh complexion as she twirled about the snow with their son.

Their son.

A phrase he had never thought he’d have the pleasure of saying.

“You are a steadfast man, Kallias. Your wife brings so much joy to my own I can only begin to imagine what a delight your offspring would bring her.”

Kallias knew that was as close as any compliment he could wrangle from the man, so clasped him on the shoulder with a heartfelt nod as Eris moved beside him, freshly signed papers left on the desk as they both stared at their entire worlds.

Eris knew, in that moment, watching as his son waddled across the pale terrain to his mother, who crouched down with awaiting arms, the expression he loved most written all over her breathtaking face, that there was nothing worth living for, if not them.

[copia]

teeth of god graphic novel spoilers (concerning recent events) below

showmehowtodanceforever.com -> that one passage from the final director's note that includes [...] would you like to dance I have always been dancing we must keep dancing even when we are just tendrils we could touch everything even things god did not want us to touch that is why he left us here that is why he thought we were ugly he could not wrap his tendrils around every part of us we spilled his paradise over the earth and danced within it such a beautiful dance horror would leap and dance with us [...] fear will make us dance and we must keep dancing can you see god dancing for you etc !!!!!???? very excited that tog might somehow be tied into the next round of music

[areptvclown]

Yall are delusional if you think Nesta is going to leave Cassian or the night court. First, they are mated. Not just mates. Mated. They accepted the bond, and SJM loves her Heas. It's a done deal. So either keep reading and deal with it or drop the series and find something you enjoy. Not to mention if they even could break the bond, how empty and broken Nesta would be for eternity. You really want that for her?

HOFAS happened three months after acosf. There's still alot of healing on Nesta’s part. Just because she saved Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx doesn't mean things are swept under the rug with them. Her and Cassian are both fiery and stubborn. They are going to have arguments. Honestly, it's perfectly normal for them to argue on occasion.

This. What Nesta did in HOFAS. Went beyond her and Cassian, beyond Rhys. This was a decision that Nesta should not have made herself. Yes I understand that she saw Bryce's desperation and understood her. She probably put herself in Bryces shoes for a moment. She took a chance. But it's a huge fucken chance because they don't know nor trust Bryce fully. And if she failed the whole of Prythian/Midgard is fucked. They have nothing to defend themselves against the weaponry Rigelus has. They will all die. Including Nesta Archeron.

Rhys had every right to scold her. And Her saying he's not her High Lord isn't accurate. She lives in his lands. Whether she wants to admit it or not. If any of the courts got wind of what was happening with Bryce or that Nesta gave this mask up to a stranger from another world do you know who would be faulted? Not Nesta. Rhys and Feyre would. They would suffer the consequences because Nesta falls under their lands. Their rule.

And now Cassian, who apparently had never defended Nesta once. Again. Nesta was In. The. Wrong. Her actions were beneficial and understandable but wrong. Cassian being upset and disappointed in her would absolutely make sense. Think of times in TOG, when Rowan wasn't happy with Aelin. He stood there silent until they were alone. That's more than likely what happened. Cassian didn't say his piece until everyone left. It's an argument between Nesta and Cassian and no one else.

That argument. The one that happened off page yet everyone wants to fucking crucify Cassian over cause you think you know what he said. When in reality you don't. Is wild. Three months ago, when she was with Emerie and Gwyn, they were taken and placed in the Blood Rite where he was helpless in going to her. He lost her briefly in the bog, watched her put her life at risk. How many times in acosf? He went a year or so watching Nesta absolutely ruin herself, had her lay over his body in front of Hybern, almost losing her, them, then too. Now, someone, a stranger and someone potentially dangerous, opened a portal in his living room where his mate was. And he wasn't there. All that trauma and ptsd he keeps on lock was blown wide open.

So now Cassian is a storm of emotions when he arrives home. Probably arrived mid argument between Nesta and Rhys, and the entire flight was given brief details of what's happening fueling his emotions. His fear, trauma, concern, disappointment, and anger. When Rhys leaves, Cassian and Nesta got into it. Sure he was pissed about the mask anyone would be. I would be. I personally think it goes on beyond that. Far beyond it. Nesta’s life, once again, was put a risk and no one knew what Bryce wanted. Cassian’s worst fear when the portal was open, was Bryce taking Nesta and never seeing her again. All that came out in their fight.

As readers, we know Bryce's intentions are good. They as characters who haven't been given the best view of Bryce dont believe it. Yes, I do think there needs to be more trust in Nesta. Especially where Rhys is considered. Cassian, as her mate, blowing things out of proportion is logical cause all mates have done it at some point. But yeah he needs to trust her a bit more too. He trusts her more than Rhys does that's for sure.

To play devil's advocate, I could be wrong on Cassian and Nesta and their fight. Absolutely. Im not Sarah. But neither are you who are wishing he dies, and Nesta leaves him over a risk that was never hers to make alone when it involves the whole world of Midgard.

If you read this entire thing and disagree. That's cool. The unfollow and block buttons are right there.

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

𝒟𝐸𝒱𝐼𝐿'𝒮 𝒯𝐸𝑀𝒫𝒯𝑅𝐸𝒮𝒮-𝐹𝒜𝒯𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝒞𝐻𝒜𝑅𝐿𝐼𝐸 𝑀𝒜𝒴𝐻𝐸𝒲

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕞𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 In a quiet town, Father Charlie Mayhew is drawn to Y/N, a mysterious woman who embodies temptation. Despite his vows, he succumbs to her seduction in a passionate encounter.

✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮

In the quiet town, whispers of a new, seductive presence had been echoing through the cobblestone streets. It was said that she was the epitome of temptation, a creature of unearthly beauty that could make even the most pious of men stumble in their faith. Her name was Y/N, and she had arrived like a storm, bringing with her a wave of lustful desires that no one could resist.

Father Charlie Mayhew, the town's beloved priest, had heard the rumors but had not yet laid eyes on this mysterious woman. His days were filled with the mundane tasks of the parish: hearing confessions, tending to the sick, and offering guidance to his devoted flock. Yet, at night, as he knelt before the cross in his dimly lit chamber, he couldn't help but feel the weight of his own desires, desires that he had sworn to bury beneath his vestments.

One fateful evening, as he walked through the town's cemetery, tending to the graves and offering prayers for the souls interred there, he heard the faint sound of laughter. It was a laugh that seemed to resonate with a dark allure, one that seemed to beckon him closer. Curiosity piqued, he followed the sound until it led him to the most unexpected of places: the very heart of the cemetery, where a woman, dressed in a crimson dress that clung to her curves like a lover's embrace, sat atop the highest mausoleum.

Y/N looked down at him with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with a mischief that made Father Charlie's heart race. "You're a curious one," she purred, her voice a siren's call that seemed to echo through the silent night. "I've been waiting for someone like you to come along, someone who knows the true price of temptation."

Father Charlie, though he knew better, couldn't help but be drawn to her. She was everything that was forbidden, everything he had been taught to reject. Yet, as he approached, he found himself questioning his vows, his beliefs, and his very nature.

"Who are you?" he managed to ask, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Y/N slid off the mausoleum, landing gracefully before him. She leaned in, her warm breath tickling his ear. "I'm your deepest, darkest desires, given form," she murmured. "And tonight, I'm going to show you the pleasures that await those who dare to indulge in them."

Father Charlie felt a shiver run down his spine as she spoke, and he knew that he was standing before the embodiment of sin. Yet, as she reached out to caress his cheek, his resolve began to crumble like the ancient stones that surrounded them.

"You don't have to be afraid," she said, her eyes filled with a fiery passion. "Give in to me, and I'll show you what it's like to truly live."

With those words, she leaned in, and their lips met in a kiss that seemed to burn with the fire of a thousand suns. It was a kiss that promised untold pleasure and eternal damnation, and in that moment, Father Charlie knew he was lost. He had invited the devil herself into his heart, and he was ready to pay the price.

Her hands began to explore his body, pulling at the fabric of his priestly vestments. The weight of his collar felt heavier than ever before, a stark contrast to the lightness that her touch brought to him. He could feel the heat of her skin through the barriers that separated them, and he knew that she was not just any woman. Her touch was electric, leaving trails of desire in its wake as she traced her way down to his chest.

Her kiss grew more urgent, and soon she was guiding him backward, down the steps of the mausoleum and into the shadowy embrace of the cemetery. The cool grass felt like a balm against his fevered skin as they lay together, her body pressing against his, her legs entwining with his own.

Father Charlie's hands, which had once offered comfort and solace to the faithful, now roamed over her satin smooth skin, seeking out the curves and valleys that lay beneath. He could feel her respond to his touch, her breath hitching in her throat as he explored her. The scent of her arousal filled the air, a sweet and heady aroma that clouded his senses and made it impossible to think of anything but the passion that burned between them.

Y/N reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, her eyes never leaving his. He felt the fabric part, exposing his bare chest to the cool night air. Her hands, soft yet insistent, slid over his torso, her nails leaving faint trails of fire as they danced over his skin. His own hands found the zipper of her dress, and together, they shed their last layers of resistance.

Their bodies came together in a fiery union, their movements driven by a primal instinct that neither could control. The moon cast a soft glow over them, illuminating the sweat that glistened on their skin as they moved in a dance as old as time itself. The whispers of the wind through the headstones seemed to echo their cries of pleasure, as if the very earth itself was a silent witness to their transgressions.

Father Charlie had never felt such ecstasy, such all-consuming need. He had devoted his life to the worship of purity, but now, in the arms of the devil, he knew true rapture. He could feel his faith slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers, replaced by a desire that was more potent than any holy water could ever be.

Her eyes, once filled with mischief, now held a look of intense passion as she rode him, her hips moving in a rhythm that seemed to match the beating of his heart. He could feel the power of her, the seductive energy that had drawn him in from the start, wrapping around him like a lover's embrace.

"You're mine," she growled, her voice a dark whisper against his neck. "Say it."

"I'm yours," he gasped, his voice hoarse with desire.

Y/N threw her head back and laughed, a sound that was both erotic and terrifying. "Good boy," she murmured, her teeth grazing his earlobe. "Now, tell me how much you want me."

Father Charlie could feel the words forming on his lips before he even knew what he was saying. "I want you so badly, it hurts," he confessed, his hands tightening on her hips. "I need you, all of you."

Her response was a feral grin, and she leaned in, her breasts brushing against his chest as she whispered, "You're going to get everything you want, Father. And more."

With that, she increased her pace, her movements growing more urgent as she took him deeper within her. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he could feel himself losing control, the barriers between his faith and his desires crumbling away with every thrust.

The dirt and grass beneath them became a blur as they moved together, their bodies slick with sweat and need. He could feel her tightening around him, her nails digging into his skin as she approached her climax. "Say it again," she demanded, her voice a purr that seemed to resonate in his very soul. "Tell me how much you need this."

"I need you," he moaned, his voice breaking. "I need you so much."

Her response was a guttural growl, and she threw her head back, arching her back as her orgasm crashed over her. The sight of her, lost in pleasure, was almost too much for him to bear, and with a final, desperate push, he followed her over the edge.

As they lay there, panting and spent, the reality of what he had done began to seep in. He had given in to temptation, had taken the forbidden fruit that had been offered by the very essence of sin. Yet, as he looked into Y/N's eyes, all he could feel was a strange, twisted sense of peace.

"Forever and always." she murmured, her voice still thick with desire.

Father Charlie knew that she was right, that he had made a pact that could never be broken. But as the darkness closed in around him, he couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the end, or if it was just the beginning of a much longer, more decadent journey.

Their bodies still entangled, they lay in the cemetery, surrounded by the silent judgement of the dead. Yet, in this moment, neither cared about the consequences of their actions. They were lost in the throes of passion, two souls dancing on the edge of damnation, consumed by a lust that was as ancient as it was eternal.

Her eyes, once a sparkling green, now glowed a fiery red, a stark contrast to the pale moonlight. It was a sight that should have sent Father Charlie reeling with terror, but instead, it only served to fuel his desire. Those eyes, filled with a power that could corrupt the purest of hearts, bore into his very soul, and he felt himself falling even deeper under her spell.

Y/N leaned in, her breath hot against his cheek. "Look at me," she ordered, her voice a seductive command that he couldn't resist. He turned his head, and their gazes locked. The red in her eyes was mesmerizing, a pool of desire and darkness that threatened to consume him whole.

"You belong to me now." she whispered, her fingertips tracing the contours of his face.

Father Charlie could feel the gravity of her words, the weight of his decision pressing down upon him. He knew that he should have been repentant, that he should have been begging for forgiveness, but all he could do was nod in silent agreement. The devil had claimed him, and he had willingly offered himself up as a sacrifice.

Her smile grew wider, a wicked grin that showed off the sharp points of her teeth. "Good," she murmured. "Now, let's see how far you're willing to go."

Her hand slid down his chest and found his already hardening cock, her grip firm and confident. She began to stroke him, her movements deliberate and precise. Each touch was a brand, a mark of ownership that seared into his very being.

"I can give you everything you've ever wanted," she said, her voice a sweet temptation that was impossible to ignore. "All you have to do is ask."

He knew he should resist, that he should find the strength to push her away, but his body betrayed him. "More," he breathed, his hips rising to meet her hand. "Please, more."

Her laughter was like music, a symphony of sin that played in his ears and set his blood on fire. "As you wish," she said, her eyes flashing red as she leaned in for another kiss, one that promised an eternity of pleasure and pain.

Their lips met once more, and Father Charlie felt himself falling into an abyss of desire, one that had no bottom, no end. He was hers, and he knew that there was no turning back. He had made a deal with the devil, and he would revel in the delights of the damned for all eternity.

As their kiss deepened, she rolled him onto his back, her body straddling his once holy form. Her eyes never left his, the red glow never dimming as she began to move against him, her hips rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm.

He could feel the power of her, the seductive energy that had ensnared him from the moment he had first set eyes on her. It was like nothing he had ever encountered before, and he was utterly powerless to resist.

Her hands roamed over his chest, her nails leaving trails of fire as she touched him. Each caress was a brand, a mark of his submission, and he reveled in the pain and pleasure that she brought him.

With every movement, her eyes grew brighter, the red glow becoming more intense. It was as if she was feeding off his very soul, drawing power from his every moan and gasp. He didn't care. He wanted more, needed more, and he would give her anything she demanded.

Their bodies moved as one, their passion a dance that was both sacred and profane. The cemetery around them seemed to come alive with the energy of their union, the very earth trembling beneath them.

Father Charlie felt himself building to the brink once more, his body tightening with the promise of release. And as he climaxed, her eyes flashed a brilliant, blinding red, and he knew that he had truly given himself over to the devil.

Her eyes remained fixed on his, the crimson glow a constant reminder of the inferno that now burned within him. He could feel the flames of her gaze searing into his very core, branding him as her own.

Suddenly, from the depths of his shattered conviction, a flicker of defiance sparked. The image of the cross he had been carrying, now discarded in the dirt beside them, flashed through his mind. With a strength born of desperation, Father Charlie reached for the holy symbol, grasping it in a hand trembling with the weight of his decision.

Y/N, caught in the throes of passion, noticed his sudden movement but was too lost in the moment to realize the gravity of his action. With a swiftness that belied his clerical garb, he raised the cross high above his head and brought it crashing down upon her, the metal digging into her flesh with a sickening crunch.

The laughter that had been bubbling from her lips turned to a scream of agony, and the red glow in her eyes was replaced by shock and disbelief. The force of his blow had driven the cross into her heart, and the power of the sacred artifact pulsed through her, a blessed light that began to consume the darkness that was her very essence.

Her body convulsed, writhing in pain as the cross burned away the layers of seduction and deceit that had cloaked her true form. The alluring visage of temptation morphed into something far more terrifying, a creature of twisted flesh and gnashing teeth, her once-beautiful skin now a mottled mess of burning, bubbling corruption.

Father Charlie watched in horror as the creature that had once been his seductress writhed and screamed before him, her eyes now a solid, unblinking black. He knew that he had done what was necessary, that he had sent this demon back to the hell from whence she came.

Yet, even in the face of such unspeakable evil, his body continued to respond to her, his cock still hard and demanding. It was as if the very essence of sin had become a part of him, a part that he could never truly purge from his soul.

The demonic creature that had been Y/N let out a final, guttural howl as the last vestiges of her power were expunged by the holy relic. Her body began to disintegrate before his very eyes, the flesh sloughing away to reveal the charred bones beneath.

The priest felt a mix of relief and revulsion wash over him as the creature's grip on his soul was broken. Yet, even as the demon's essence dissipated into the night air, the taste of her remained on his lips, a bitter reminder of the price he had paid for his moment of weakness.

The cross, once a symbol of salvation, now felt heavy in his hand, stained by the blood of the creature he had killed. The reality of what he had done weighed on him, and he knew that he could never confess this sin to his congregation, never seek absolution for the darkness that now dwelled within his own heart.

He looked down at his ruined vestments, the fabric torn and soiled by the very essence of evil. He knew that he could never be the same man again, never stand before the altar with the same purity of spirit. Yet, in that moment of profound realization, he also understood that his battle was far from over.

The devil had sent its minion to corrupt him, and though he had emerged the victor in this skirmish, the war for his soul had just begun. The town once a bastion of faith, now held a secret that could shake its very foundations to the core.

Father Charlie Mayhew, the man who had killed the devil's temptress, was forever changed. The whispers of the town had become a scream of truth, a siren's song that would echo through his nightmares for the rest of his days.

But he was not broken. He was a soldier of God, and though the enemy had scored a victory, he had not claimed him entirely. With the cross still in hand, he made a silent vow to himself and to his maker: he would fight on, he would seek redemption, and he would never let the darkness consume him again.

The night was still and silent once more, the cemetery a tableau of shadows and stone. Yet, in the heart of the priest who had stared into the abyss and lived to tell the tale, a new fire burned, one that was fueled by the knowledge that he had faced a demon and won. Father Charlie knew that the devil had not disappeared; it had merely retreated, waiting for the next opportunity to claim what it believed was its rightful property.

He stood, his legs unsteady, and stumbled back to the church, the cross clutched tightly in his hand. The sacred ground felt cold and unyielding beneath his feet, as if even it knew of his transgression. As he approached the heavy oak doors, he could almost hear the whispers of his congregation, the voices of those who had entrusted him with their souls, calling out for guidance and salvation.

In the dim light of the confessional, he knelt before the crucifix, the weight of his sin a leaden burden upon his shoulders. Yet, as he began to pray, the words seemed hollow, the ritual a mockery of his own weakness. He knew that he could never confess what had occurred, not without risking the very faith that held his community together.

The following days were a blur of guilt and doubt. Father Charlie threw himself into his work, hoping that the comfort he provided to others would somehow salve the wound that festered within him. Yet, each night, as he lay in his lonely bed, the memory of Y/N's touch, the sound of her laughter, the taste of her kiss, haunted his dreams.

[alpinelogy]

Chat I forgot khun at one point was basically dead in tog wtf. How did i forget my blorbo was dead at one point

[acourtofquestions]

"So many developments up north. Royals gone missing, now revealing themselves once more. Both Dorian Havilliard and the Terrasen Queen. The latter did it in such dramatic fashion, too."

"Where," Yrene whispered, because Chaol could not. Indeed, the breath had gone out of him at the mention of his own king.

Hasar smiled at Yrene--that pleased smile she'd given her upon arrival.

"Skull's Bay."

The lie, the guess that Chaol had given her to feed to the princess ... It had proved true.

She felt Chaol tense, though his face revealed nothing but bland interest. "A pirate port in the south, Great Khagan," Chaol explained to Urus, seated down the table, as if he were indeed aware of this news--and a part of this conversation. "In the middle of a large archipelago."

The khagan glanced to his visibly displeased viziers, and frowned with them. "And why would they appear in Skull's Bay?"

Chaol had no answer, but Arghun was more than happy to supply it. "Because Aelin Galathynius thought to go head-to-head against the army Perrington had camped at the edge of the archipelago."

"Oh, in hers," Hasar said. "We had eyes in the town already, so they were able to dispatch a full report." That smug, secret smile again in Yrene's direction. Spies she had sent using Yrene's information. "Her power is considerable," she added to her father. "Our sources say it burned the sky itself. And then wiped out most of the fleet assembled against her. In a single blow."

Holy gods.

The viziers shifted, and the khagan's face hardened. "The rumors of the glass castle's destruction were not exaggerated, then."

Io, aignan sala maaly. And ner powers nave grown since then. Along with her allies. Dorian Havilliard travels with her court. And Skull's Bay and its Pirate Lord now kneel before her."

Conqueror.

"They fight with her," Chaol cut in. "Against Perrington's forces."

"Do they?" Hasar took up the assault, parrying with ease. "For it is not Perrington who is now sailing down Eyllwe's coast, burning villages as he pleases."

"That is a lie," Chaol said too softly.

"Is it?" Arghun shrugged, then faced his father, the portrait of the concerned son. "No one has seen her, of course, but entire villages have been left in ash and ruin. They say she sails for Banjali, intent on strong-arming the Ytger family into mustering an army for her."

"That is a lie," Chaol snapped.

"That is a lie," Chaol snapped. His teeth flashed, viziers tittered and gasped, but he said to the khagan, "I know Aelin Galathynius, Great Khagan. It's not her style, not in her nature. The Ytger family..." He stalled. Is important to her. Yrene felt the words on his tongue, as if they were on her own. The princess and Arghun leaned forward, waiting for confirmation. Proof of Aelin Galathynius's potential weakness.

Not in magic, but in who was vital to her. And Eyllwe, lying between Perrington's forces and the khaganate ... She could see the wheels turning in their heads.

"The Ytger family would be better used as an ally from the south," Chaol corrected, shoulders stiff. "Aelin is clever enough to know this."

"And l'd suppose you know," Hasar said, "since you were her lover at some point. Or was that King Dorian? Or both? The spies were never accurate on who was in her bed and when."

Yrene swallowed her surprise. Chaol--and Aelin Galathynius?

"I know her well, yes," Chaol said tightly.

His knee pressed into her own, as if to say, Later. I will explain later.

"But this is war," Arghun countered. "War makes people do things they might not ordinarily consider."

The condescension and mockery were enough to make Yrene grind her teeth. This was a planned attack, a temporary alliance between two siblings.

Kashin cut in, "Does she set her sights on these shores?" It was a soldier's question.

Hasar picked at her nails. "Who knows? With such power ... Perhaps we're all hers for the taking."

"Aelin has one war to fight already," Chaol ground out. "And she is no conqueror."

"Skull's Bay and Eyllwe would suggest otherwise."

A vizier whispered in the khagan's ear. Another leaned in to listen. Already calculating.

Chaol said to Urus, "Great Khagan, I know some might spin these tidings to appear to Aelin's disadvantage, but I swear to you the Queen of Terrasen means only to liberate our land. My king would not ally with her if it were otherwise."

"Would you swear it, though?" Hasar mused.

"Swear on Yrene's life?"

"From all you have seen," Hasar went on, "all you've witnessed of her character ... would you swear it upon Yrene Towers's life that Aelin Galathynius might not use such tactics? Might not try to take armies, rather than raise them? Including our own?"

"Perhaps if she's so powerful," Arghun mused, "she can take on Perrington by herself."

"Don't forget King Dorian," Hasar chimed in.

"Why, l'd bet the two of them could handle Perrington and whatever army he's built without much assistance. Better to let them deal with it, than waste our blood on foreign soil."

Yrene was shaking. Trembling with--with rage at the careful play of words, the game Hasar and her brother had constructed to keep from sailing to war.

"But," Kashin countered, seeming to note Yrene's expression, "it might also be said that if we do assist such powerful royals, the benefits in years of peace might be far worth the risks now." He twisted to the khagan. "If we go to their aid, Father, should we ever face such a threat, imagine that power turned against our enemies."

"Or turned against us, if she finds it easier to break her oaths," Arghun cut in.

The khagan studied Arghun, his eldest son now frowning with distaste at Kashin. Duva, a hand still on her pregnant belly, only watched. Unnoted and unasked for, even by her husband.

Arghun turned back to his father. "Our people's magic is minimal. The Eternal Sky and the thirty-six gods blessed our healers mostly." A frown at Yrene. "Against such power, what is steel and wood? Aelin Galathynius took Rifthold, then took Skull's Bay, and now seems poised to take Eyllwe. A wise ruler would have gone north, fortified her kingdom, then pushed south from the borders.

Yet she stretches her forces thin, dividing them between north and south. If she is not a fool, then her advisors are."

"They are well-trained warriors, who have seen more war and battle than you ever will," Chaol said coldly.

The eldest prince stiffened. Hasar laughed quietly.

The khagan again weighed the words around him. "This remains a matter to discuss in council rooms, not dinner tables," he said, though there was no reassurance in it. Not for Chaol, not for Yrene. "Though I am inclined to agree with what the bare facts offer."

To his credit, Chaol did not argue further. Did not flinch or scowl. He only nodded once. "I thank you for the honor of your continued consideration, Great Khagan."

Arghun and Hasar swapped sneering looks. But the khagan just returned to his meal. Neither Yrene nor Chaol touched the rest of their food.

There was some truth to their reluctance---their fear of Aelin's powers and the threat she might pose. But he read them. Knew Hasar simply did not want to leave the comforts of her home, her lover's arms, to sail to war. Did not want the messiness of it.

And Arghun... The man dealt in power, in knowledge. Chaol had no doubt Arghun's arguing against him was more to force Chaol into a spot where he'd be desperate.

Even more than he was. Willing to offer anything up for their aid. Kashin would do whatever his father told him. And as for the khagan ...

Hours later, Chaol was still grinding his teeth as he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Yrene had left him with a squeeze to his shoulder, promising to see him the next day.

He should have lied. Should have sworn he trusted Aelin with his life. Because Hasar had known that if she asked him to swear upon Yene's life ...

Even if their thirty-six gods did not care about him, he couldn't risk it. He had seen Aelin do terrible things.

He still dreamed of her gutting Archer Finn in cold blood. Still dreamed of what she'd left of Grave's body in that alley. Still dreamed of her butchering men like cattle, in Rifthold and in Endovier, and knew just how unfeeling and brutal she could turn. He had quarreled with her earlier this summer about it--the checks on her power. The lack of them.

Rowan was a good male. Utterly unafraid of Aelin, her magic. But would she listen to his counsel? Aedion and Aelin were as likely to come to blows as they were to agree, and Lysandra ... Chaol didn't know the shifter well

Aelin had indeed changed--grown into a queen. Was still growing into one.

But he knew that there were no restraints, no inner ones, on how far Aelin would go to protect those she loved. Protect her kingdom. And if someone stood in her way, barred her from protecting them ... No lines existed to cross within Aelin in regard to that. No lines at all.

So he had not been able to swear it, on Yrene's life, that he believed Aelin might be above those sorts of methods. With her fraught history with Rolfe, she likely had used the might of her magic to intimidate him into joining their cause.

But with Eyllwe ... Had they given some sign of resistance, to prompt her to terrorize them? He couldn't imagine it, that Aelin would consider hurting innocent people, let alone the people of her beloved friend. And yet she knew the risks that Perrington--Erawan posed. What he'd do to them all, if she did not band them together. By whatever means necessary.

Chaol rubbed his face. If Aelin had kept herself in check, if she'd played the part of distressed queen ...

It would have made his task far easier.

Perhaps Aelin had cost them this war. This one shot at a future.

At least Dorian was accounted for--undoubtedly as safe as could be expected with Aelin's court for companions.

Chaol sent a silent prayer of thanks into the night for that small mercy.

A soft knock had him shooting up. Not from the foyer, but the glass doors to the garden.

And their fear of Aelin? Kashin snorted. I cannot speak to that. Perhaps it is well founded. Perhaps it is not.