#Burning in the Eternal Darkness...{Verse}

[lacybunie]

i cry, i pray, mon dieu!

“lord, give me one more chance!”

pairing: afab!reader x re4r!leon

warnings: smut, blasphemy, mentions of virginity loss, dubcon, slapping, religious reader, oral (male receiving), facefucking, corruption, rough sex, semi-public sex, degrading, manipulation, mind break, fucking in a church, crying during sex, creampie, biting, porn with plot (again), mean leon, ooc leon (again x2)

note: part 2 of adieu, mon dieu! he says the thing in this!!! :P

the tears streaming down your painted cheeks form a hot puddle below your feet, a glimpse into eternal hell. “do not be afraid to confess, my child. the lord shall forgive you.” the priest on the other side reassures but it only has you heaving for air as this confined space grows smaller around you. you cannot bear the pain that is confessing the betrayal you committed to your heavenly father just four days ago. nor can you bear to confess that you enjoyed it.

the moment you stepped into this temple for mass, flames sparked throughout the veins of your heart like a wildfire. the blood and body of your god tastes bitter and foul, threatening to come back up and escape your unclean body. each verse, each preaching, each word is a twisted stab into your soul. if hell is anything like being punished right now, you would rather suffer the most torturous death over and over.

“forgive me, i can’t.” you manage to choke out before stumbling out the confessional booth, almost falling over your feet in front of sister olivia. your mind drowns out what she’s saying, for the better or worse. the burning in your chest leads you outside to be embraced in the arms of your damned lover. the warmth of leon engulfs you, your brain scrambles for the familiarity. you clutch onto him tightly as he’s the only thing keeping you from falling. “you’re alright, sweetheart.” he reassures, his words bathe you in serenity.

his comfort is medicine for the painful wound in your heart. a hazy halo casts around his head from your teary-eyed vision, you hiccup gibberish as his lips gently kiss your head. “you can try again in a few.” leon grins at you, eyes suffocating yours. his scent of coffee and honey is a warm blanket covering your trembling form. gently wiping at the tears flowing down your cheeks, leon looks at you as if you’re as delicate as the rosary he ripped away from you. “i’ll go with you, yeah?” you nod wearily at the proposition as you get into leon’s jeep.

for the past 96 hours, you are attached to leon’s hip like a parasite latched onto its host. the paranoia that is being alone without him constantly has you in a frantic state. too petrified that the lord will send you to hell without him. your father is probably damning your soul to hell for disobeying every rule he’s enforced. leon is safer to be with, to confide in, to speak to. with the ghost of a smirk that prominently rests on his lips, you can tell leon doesn’t mind.

the parking lot is covered in a lilac veil, the sun fading into a crescent moon. your eyes divert to the cross atop the church’s roof, to the few cars dispersing in the lot, and to your priest finally walking out the building. saturday night mass is over, all that’s left is leon and you. eyes flicker to meet his as the church bell loudly chimes. “i’m scared.” “you have me, angel.” leon faintly smiles, caressing the side of your face. your tooth could ache from how sweet leon is.

hastily making your way pass the large doors of the church, the fragrance of the incense burns your nose so much that you might just vomit. the once comforting scent now revolting. you grab a hold of leon’s hand when you approach the dark oak booth, body filling with dread. “you okay?” you can hear leon whisper, his hand soothing the lower half of your back. the faint shadows of blues and reds from the stained windows cover his face. the aesthetics of this cathedral cannot compare to him.

“can you come in with me?” a soft plead escapes your mouth. thinking it’s such a silly request as your priest is not around to hear your sins but it’s for the best that he doesn’t. you look back to the booth, beams of light along with a large cross carved carefully into its wood. the pit of your stomach is burning with anxiety, lightning striking down on you would be more comforting. the temperature of your body rises a little too high when you look towards leon whose lips are pulled into a smirk. you feel weaker, smaller under his gaze. a sheep tethered in sharp teeth. “of course, sweetheart.”

leon enters the booth before you, taking up the seat in the cramped space. his stare is locked on you when his legs spread open, practically inviting you to sit on him. you don’t break the stare while dragging your feet into the confined space, shutting the heavy door behind you. there’s an indescribable look swirling in leon’s eyes, that look muffles out all thoughts you have. it’s almost hypnotic like leon is purposefully trying to trap you. you can’t seem to pull yourself out of it.

leon hums lowly as you shyly shuffle your way towards him, fiddling with the purity ring that still rests on your finger. “is it okay if i sit on your lap?” the heat of your cheeks are so hot and red asking the question that leon only chuckles at you. “you’ve done worse.” your throat burns at the remark, there’s a lingering tinge in your chest from earlier that grows stronger as you are reminded that this is far from the worse thing you’ve done. leon grasps your wrist to pull you onto his lap, his hands find solace on your waist.

“go on, angel. confess to your god.” leon mutters against your exposed skin that peaks from your dress. butterflies faintly flutter around in your lower abdomen, a feeling you know all too well. its difficult to get your words out when leon begins to knead at your waist, for your comfort or his own purpose. you blur out the feeling as you close your eyes and put your hands in prayer. “forgive me, father, for i have committed the biggest sin of all!” you cry out, heart beating hard against your ribs.

“i have betrayed you, my lord. i gave into temptation and gave into lust. it was gluttonous of me. i’m sorry for betraying you, i know what i have done is terrible.” a cold touch on your bare thigh has you choke on your words, your teary eyes open to see leon bunching up your dress to caress your thighs. “leon?” you whimper, tears cascading down your dampen cheeks. “finish it.” leon demands, his voice raspy. you look over at him, there’s a faint glint in his eyes. the butterflies in your stomach multiply in twos and threes.

“i said, finish it.” leon warns as his hands spread you open, something he knows how to do very well. you close your eyes once again as a sudden rush to your body has the blood in your heart pump harder. “please forgive me, i beg so desperately for your forgiveness.” “pathetic.” there’s a soft rub of a finger on your clothed cunt. you swallow the moan that’s trying to force its way out of your parted lips. “please, leon.” you want him to stop but you can’t bring yourself to rip away from him. “tell em’ what you did.” leon scoffs, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

lips quiver from the little ecstasy leon grants you. oh how infinitely doomed you must be for committing such lewd acts in this very temple. the sight could cause hysteria if anyone were to open the door right now. “i had premarital sex with my lover. i’m so sorry, my lord. i’m sorry for indulging and enjoying sin.” leon rubs your covered clit harshly, your body is burning. “i’m sorry for losing my virginity to a man that’s not my husband. i’m sorry for-” “getting your brains fucked out.” leon interrupts, there’s a quick smack to the skin of your thigh.

you don’t fully process leon pushing you off his lap just as you don’t realize how quick you are to get on your knees before him. leon roughly grabs at your face, squishing your cheeks as if you’re a child getting scolded. “no god will forgive you for being a dirty slut.” leon grits through his teeth, delivering pathetic slaps to your face. a buzzing in your head soon reaches your cunt with each hit. “apologizing for getting your pussy ripped open when i told you it was okay.” “i’m sorry, leon.” you muffle out a sob, knees burning against the aging wood.

“you’re so fucking pathetic.” leon roughly pushes you away, tears blur your vision as you cannot fathom the anger he’s bearing onto you. you had betrayed him, sobbing out your regret right in front of him. your heart is imprinting itself on your chest from the pounding, you cowardly crawl back towards him. “i’m sorry, leon! please forgive me.” your hands tremble to grab his, crying harder than before. “so damn whiny, i need to shut that fucking mouth.” leon unbuckles his belt in a haste, just like he did a few days prior.

leon’s hard cock hits his lower abdomen, you’re dazed at the sight. he says something muffled before grabbing your face and shoving his cock into your mouth, eliciting a muffled gasp from you. your jaw slacks so naturally that it’s hard to believe this is your first time doing this. the now restricted air burns the branches in your lungs like cigarette smoke. your tears cascade down to his exposed thigh, he fucks your throat as if you’re nothing yet everything.

“look at you, slobbering on that cock.” leon grunts, roughly snapping his hips into your face. you unknowingly moan around him, watching a smile creep onto his lips in response. his fingers are tangled in your hair, a sweet sting from the pulling has whimpers escaping your stuffed throat. “making me feel so good, should’ve done this earlier.” leon chuckles, eyes burning through you. your body fights to stay conscious as your oxygen is running terribly low yet you do not seem to mind it. passing out from giving your lover pleasure, what a heavenly way to go.

there’s a craving leon fills as he fucks your mouth, that craving you first had a few nights ago. always wanting more of him, yearning for that feeling he gives you when you reach pure euphoria. no matter how hard you’ve searched to find it in something else, you can not. no amount of bible studies or mass will ever fill your craving. it seems it only resides in leon, and how selfless will you be if you keep depriving yourself from it.

“nasty fucking girl.” leon sighs while freeing his cock from your warm mouth, slapping the tip against your puffy lips. your body is on fire, knees gushing out blood from the rough wood, but the way leon makes you feel is divine. you temporarily taste your salty tears before he shoves his fat cock back into your salivating mouth, throat burning as it gets stretched out. the sight of you would have you crucified in front of the church, so selfish and greedy that you have betrayed your heavenly father again in his own temple.

“doing such a good job, should fuck that pussy of yours.” you moan at the praise, looking up at him in admiration. leon’s face contorts in pure bliss as you hum around his cock, not noticing the crucifix above him shaking to a tilt. your cunt squeezes around nothing as you obediently take him. the feeling of your throat convulsing around leon has him moan out a symphony. “come here.” he pulls you off to sit you atop of his lap, back against his chest. your lips glisten in the candlelit cubicle of your own saliva, shining in the same way as when you drink the blood of christ.

you watch leon fully rip off your dove white panties to expose your drenched cunt. there’s a fuzziness in your brain, like a broken tv displaying static. “i’ll bring you salvation.” leon mutters while slapping the tip of his cock against your cunt. your fingers grip at the hand that’s around your throat when he teases your sopping hole, temporarily depriving you of your craving. “i’ll give you a holy body.” he whispers softly in your ear as he roughly shoves his fat cock into your cunt. hot tears blur your vision once more as leon answers your prayers.

the moans escaping your chest ricochets off the oak walls and straight back into your mouth. leon is fucking you so harshly that you can’t breathe without moaning. his cock abuses your poor cervix that you think you’ll faint if he keeps going. “there’s my pretty girl.” leon’s fingers messily rub your clit, your heartbeat becomes erratic. your eyes pry open to wearily watch as his cock disappears into your cunt, the sight making you dizzy. “got yourself so wet for me.” “god.” you blabber out with drool coating your mouth, too fucked out already, too gone.

there’s a pitiful slap to your rose tinted cheeks, it only makes the coil in your stomach tighten. “bet you missed this. all those tears and prayers will never save you from being a dirty little girl.” leon taunts while biting your neck, drawing the smallest trickle of blood. his tongue laps at your neck while your lungs are filled with fire as leon’s grip on your throat loosens just for a moment. his cock repeatedly hits that sweet spot, your body is going numb from the euphoria. “i can save you, i’m all you need.”

the coil in your stomach seemingly snaps already, whether at leon’s words or his cock ruthlessly pounding your insides, you don’t know for sure. you’re gasping for air, body stupidly shaking at the strong rush of dopamine coming out of your cunt. “leon.” you whine loudly, clawing at his wrist as he doesn’t stop fucking your brains out. this feeling is so much stronger than the first time that the circuit of your brain seems to rewire itself, you’re completely and utterly broken.

“there you go, pretty. all over my cock just like that.” leon hooks his arms around your thighs, finally letting your throat breathe in the hot air. your brain is melted, the only thought you have is leon and his cock. tears stain your eyes as leon pounds deeper into you, not letting your body rest just yet. ears filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin and your own moans. the candles mounted on the oak walls are extinguished, the image of your heavenly father above the doorframe views you with disgust.

“no god will ever make you feel this good.” leon grunts, voice raspy and heavy. “only you, leon.” you manage to say, breaking eye contact with the painting pitifully judging you as you lose yourself in leon. his cock hitting every single spot in repeated thrusts, stars are in your eyes at the indescribable feeling your body is currently drowning in. “only you, only you, only you.” you chant in a lust filled mantra, gripping at the oak walls as leon pounds your cunt harder.

“only me, huh? you’re so fucked.” leon muffles his chuckle into your shoulder, sliding a hand down to your cunt once again. you pathetically make an attempt to stop him from rubbing harsh circles into your clit, already overstimulated enough. “leon, don’t.” you sob as you feel the coil about to snap again. the plead falls on deaf ears, leon bites into your skin while rubbing messy circles on your clit. your cries are broken into scattered moans when leon roughly hits that sweet spot in your cunt, making the coil snap for the second time.

the wave of bliss has you speechless, throat releasing nothing but breathless moans. your body thrashes as the ecstasy you’re receiving is unreal. “such a good girl.” rings in your ears as you feel the hot essence of leon’s cum filling you to the point of fullness. he desperately rids himself of every drop, groaning into the nape of your neck. your throat burns as you moan faintly, like liquid to a sore throat. leon grabs your face to immediately kiss your bruised lips, grasping your limp body into a tight hold. the taste of blood falls onto your tongue, your blood.

“i’m all you need.” leon repeats onto your lips, staring into your eyes and straight through your soul. that familiar glint in his eyes has your heart beating haphazardly. you believe he is the only thing you ever need, your heavenly father will never give you such pleasure as leon does. your heavenly father will never be leon. you mindlessly nod, giddily smiling at leon before kissing his lips, relishing in your newfound faith.

you found god and he’s leon.

#leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 smut #leon kennedy imagine #omfg how do i tag this!!!!

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Pairing: Softish Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn Note: It is/will be mentioned Tav is a draconic sorcerer

Rating: Explicit 18+ [Slow Burn]

Setting: Post End-Game Please note: Written before epilogues were added, so may not be congruent with that content

Warnings [more will be added] - expect mature content/read at your own risk.

Blood drinking. Sexual Themes/Tension. Slow Burn. Eventual Explicit Smut. Pining. Suicidal Thoughts. Biting. Violence.

Small Notes:

I am not well-versed in DnD 5e and it's rules as it pertains to this world, so although I'm going to try and keep it as accurate as possible, some aspects may not align or may be completely made up for story reasons.

Mentioned of in-game content that I've made resolve a certain way for this Tav.

Fabricated camp events.

Tav is named in later chapters (15 +), will have her own backstory, which we may explore eventually.

Details of Tav's appearance have been made up, but I've tried to keep details to a minimum so you can imagine your own Tav.

Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy!

Big thank you to everyone who reads and/or comments/follows/likes/reblogs - it truly does make my day to know you're finding some enjoyment in my story :)

Chapter 1: Lost

Chapter 2: Reunion

Chapter 3: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Chapter 4: Little Lamb

Chapter 5: Rebellion

Chapter 6: Dancing with Darkness

Chapter 7: Rogue Desire

Chapter 8: Free Fall

Chapter 9: Beneath the Veil

Chapter 10: Soulbound

Chapter 11: 'Till Death Do Us Part

Chapter 12: Catharsis

Chapter 13: The Fallacy of Power

Chapter 14: Devil's Ploy

Chapter 15: Reclamation

Chapter 16: Riddles

AO3 [cross-posted]

If you're interested, I also write a spawn Astarion x Tav fic - Shadows of the Past

#bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #buldars gate 3 #astarion smut #bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #astarion #fangs and fractured hearts #astarion x named tav #astarion x oc #soft ascended astarion #ascended astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3

[ghost-1-y]

Temptation

Angel!Mitsuri x AFAB!Succubus!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, dark content, sacrilege, blasphemy, religious themes, dubcon (aphrodisiac), manipulation, sexual content, dom!reader, sub!Mitsuri, unprotected sex, oral (reader receiving), scissoring, virginity loss (Mitsuri), corruption k!nk, praise k!nk, degradation, hair pulling, concepts of "purification" and "chastity", concepts of sex and sexuality being "dirty" and "sinful", slight mentions of blood (not in a sexual context), use of bible verses (in italics), references to bible passages/stories, people who are religious may find this content offensive, please read with caution

Summary: Mitsuri had always done what she was told to do, glorifying her god and helping those who needed it. She never once thought about breaking the rules – much less her vow to chastity, until she found what initially appeared to be a human in a darkened alleyway in need of help, unknowingly falling into a trap that would corrupt her from holiness for the rest of eternity.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Divider Credit: the wonderful @/benkeibear

A/N: so, I used to be religious (Christian), so a lot of this might've come out of my own personal traumas that I experienced (eg. the concept of purification and chastity and being ashamed of having "dirty" thoughts). Obviously, I no longer hold these views (as evidence by writing these fics LMAO), but that somewhat influenced how I wrote this fic, maybe some of y'all will be able to relate? I hope you enjoy!!

Let your light shine before them in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.

Mitsuri loved the world, she loved humans and nature and all the beauty that existed in between. She would watch the sun rise upon the earth and how it would cast its rays upon trees and cities as life basked in its holy light.

She loved the night as well – how it brought tranquility and peace as those she watched over rested until the sun peeked over the horizon once more.

She sometimes wished that her light would not interfere with such serenity. 

But the world also saddened Mitsuri, she mourned as those she loved from afar returned to dust underneath grassy knolls; her heart broke as she witnessed fighting amongst nations and arguments amongst lovers. She knew that loving the world would bring grief upon her, because the world was infested with sin.

The world would never be perfect, yet she loved it anyways.

So Mitsuri spent her eternity by helping those who needed it – taking on a human form so others wouldn’t be afraid. She helped by working in food banks and soup kitchens – oh how she adored those humans who set such wonderful services up – and would afterwards walk along roads to give food to those who, for whatever reason, found such services inaccessible to them. She would volunteer in hospitals, helping the sick in whatever way she could, and would listen to their stories and offer comfort should they share their suffering with her, holding their hand in hers to offer support – however small. 

It was not a coincidence, then, that she caught sight of you, a human lying alone in a darkened alleyway, isolated from the bustling street that was doused in sunlight. You were covered in shadows to the point where it looked like darkness emanated from your body itself, curled up and alone – hiding within the stench of garbage and discarded roadkill.

Mitsuri approached you – her kindness limitless and unbounded by fear as her light blessed your shadowed figure, gentle and warm – a light that was neither blinding nor dim as you looked up at her.

“Are you alright, my love? My name is Mitsuri, I saw you here and wanted to help,” she smiled sweetly. It didn’t matter what language you spoke, since Mitsuri’s words would translate perfectly once they fell from her lips and graced your ears.

Burning lips and a wicked heart are like a potsherd covered with silver dross.

Teary eyed, you smiled up at her, “Thank you, I didn’t think anyone would come, but you’re here now.” Mitsuri’s gentle eyes looked over your condition, a cut on your forehead which was seeping a dark red, and smudges of dirt all over your body.

“Oh, love, let me get you cleaned up a bit!” Mitsuri exclaimed as she secretly materialized some cotton pads, pretending to fish them out of her pocket. She wiped the blood that was dripping down your face, “I don’t have antiseptic wipes on me, would you wait here as I go get them from a convenience store?” You nodded, staring past her shoulder. 

If Mitsuri knew any better, she would’ve thought you could see her wings. 

Mitsuri rushed across the street and bought the antiseptic wipes, more cotton pads, and a couple bottles of water before running back to help you. She knelt beside you, and began cleaning up your face. “You know, you should take better care of yourself,” she smiled softly as she wet the cotton pads with water and began wiping away the smudges of dirt on your skin. 

You said nothing, letting Mitsuri work on you. Once finished, she stood up and held out her hand, “Are you able to stand?” she asked.

You looked down at her hand and reached for it, slowly encasing it in yours, with your index finger pressing against the pulse in her wrist. A strange flush of warmth spread through Mitsuri’s arm and to her chest, causing a shiver to move up her spine. She shook her head, and helped you get up.

The warmth continued to spread and fester within her, and she couldn’t figure out why – you were human, or at least looked like you were. 

You gave her a saccharine smile, “I appreciate your help, angel, but I have to get going – I’ll see you around, no?”

Mitsuri’s eyes widened at the pet name you let slip – you couldn’t possibly know what she was – it was a coincidence, that’s all.

She who trusts in her own heart is a fool,

But she who walks wisely will be delivered.

Still, it caught her off-guard, and if she wasn’t flustered before, she definitely was now, slightly panicking despite knowing that humans wouldn’t be able to see her wings, or halo for that matter.

Mitsuri stuttered, “Of course, I– see you around.”

Days passed, and Mitsuri started to believe you’d fallen off the face of the earth – completely unable to sense your presence or soul. Yet, the warmth she felt from holding your hand did not fade – rather, it worsened, beckoning her to drag her dainty fingers along her stomach and downwards.

She shook herself out of it, but the heat lingered and pooled between her legs, so much so that it started to drip down her inner thighs – yet she wouldn’t give in to the temptation, she couldn’t – it was against everything that she was taught, everything that she believed.

Or were the beliefs forced upon her?

It wasn’t until after forty days and forty nights that she sensed you once more. It was early morning, so early that the sun had not graced its rays upon the world quite yet. You sat underneath a lamppost, its artificial light illuminating the bench beneath you, but oddly failing to reflect off of your own soft skin.

“You’re not human, are you?”

You looked up at her, a glint of mischief in your eyes as you shook your head. Standing up, you walked towards her, causing Mitsuri to take a hesitant step back.

“Don’t be shy, angel, I don’t bite – not unless you beg for it.”

“I– I’m not begging,” Mitsuri muttered, as though she were trying to convince herself more than anything.

Submit therefore to God. Resist the devil and she will flee from you.

You approached her once more, and she remained still. Taking her wrist in yours, you slowly graze your nails over the skin of her arm, tracing up and down as she spoke. Her cheeks were red, flushed hot with both the strange warmth that found its home within her soul and now the shame of actually seeking what she desired.

You both sat down on the bench, a shrub blooming with jasmine flowers alongside it – the rich scent flooding her senses as her eyes locked with yours.

Do not desire her beauty in your heart,

Nor let her capture you with her eyelids.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you asked, fingers circling the pulse point on her wrist.

Mitsuri frowns, “What do you mean?” You take your other hand and place it on hers, tracing your thumb across her skin, sending butterflies into her stomach.

“I mean,” you started, “do you get tired of kindness? Of righteousness?” you questioned, “do you ever wish to know beyond those things?”

“Um…I–” she paused, swallowing thickly, “N-Not really?” 

It was a lie, and you knew that.

“Oh, well that’s too bad,” you pouted before leaning in towards her, “because I could show you things you’ve never even felt before, angel.” You glanced up at her, and you could see her eyes pooling with the desire to accept.

“I– I really can’t, it would– it would be against my nature.” An excuse, but a truthful one. If she consented, she would be damning herself – condemning her soul to the farthest reaches of hell.

It was something unthinkable for a being like her.

“Hmm, but nature changes over time, does it not?” you questioned, “if I’m not mistaken, I can see the want in your eyes. You desire this change, yet you won’t grasp for it. Why?”

“You– you wouldn’t be able to understand,” she stuttered, retracting her hands from yours as she formed fists with them in her lap.

“Angel, I think I understand more than anyone else,” you smirked, "to me, you seem lost – you're falling, aren't you, angel?"

You got up from the bench, eyes flashing a brief red as you looked down at her – causing Mitsuri’s breath to catch in her throat.

For the lips of an adulteress drip honey

And smoother than oil is her speech;

But in the end she is bitter as wormwood,

Sharp as a two-edged sword.

Her feet go down to death,

Her steps take hold in the house of it.

“If you wish for more than the mundanity of your everlasting life, you know exactly how to find me,” you told her, and before Mitsuri could look up at you once more, you were gone.

—

Mitsuri knew that it was wrong, she knew that it would go against her vows, her duties, her entire purpose, and yet – she found herself walking past that same alleyway each day, only peering into it out of curiosity before collecting herself and continuing on her way.

Until the seventh day, when she decided to stop in front of the alley, the sun beaming down on her as she stood just outside of it, as though the lined buildings on either side created a threshold that she couldn’t bring herself to pass. 

As Mitsuri peered into the shadows, she saw a figure stand up and walk towards her. She couldn’t look into the being’s soul – it was as though it didn’t have one at all. It approached her from the dark, and its silhouette depicted that of sharpened horns and a long tail which was pointed at the end. 

“Have you made up your mind, angel?” you asked sweetly, extending your hand past the threshold for her to take, “I promise, you’ll love how it feels to let go.” 

Mitsuri hesitated, but as she looked into your eyes, a fire ignited deep within her once more.

My child, if sinners entice you,

Do not consent.

It was all she needed to extend her own hand and place it in yours.

Shocks of electricity traveled up Mitsuri’s arm, much more intense than the warmth she felt before, it traveled deep into her gut, and her face flushed red as she was pulled into the shadows, fully enticed by you.

You pinned her against the wall, her back facing you. Her wings shuddered in excitement as you leaned in towards her ear, “I’m proud of you, angel,” you whispered, your breath hot against her ear, “I know how difficult it must’ve been to give in, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” You grazed a finger along her left wing, nail lightly scraping against the feathers. She whimpered, her blush hot across her face as heat pooled in her stomach.

“I– I know you’re a–ah…” Mitsuri started, swallowing thickly before a soft moan escaped from her.

“A demon? Yes, angel, I am,” you chuckled, grabbing at her hair to pull her head back, “but I’m not here to hurt you, love, no, I’m here to make you sin.”

You turned her around and kissed her fervently, your lips sweet against hers. It felt euphoric, Mitsuri had never been kissed by anyone before – it was always said to open the doors to lust.

Then when lust has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and when sin is accomplished, it brings forth death.

However, she melted into your kiss, malleable and pliable – eager to feel more of it, the fire inside her being nurtured and stoked as you continued to kiss her innocent lips. You licked at her, and bit down on her bottom lip before parting – a string of saliva connecting her lips to yours, binding her into damnation as she uttered her next words.

“Please, I need more.”

You smirked, and leaned in towards her neck, licking a long stripe with your tongue before kissing just below her earlobe, with Mitsuri letting out tiny mewls and gasps every so often. You traveled further down her neck towards her pulse point. You left marks deep in burgundy upon her as she moaned into your ear.

“I love the sounds you’re making, angel, make some more for me,” you purred, bringing your hand down towards her heat, pushing aside the white linen to rub your fingers along her entrance. “Oh, you’re so wet for me,” you cooed.

“Nngh, n-noo that- that’s dirty,” Mitsuri whined, and you smirked.

“Trust me, you’ll learn to love feeling this way.” Your breath was hot before putting her into yet another searing kiss. She whimpered, but kissed back, slowly accepting her growing addiction towards them.

You circled her clit with your finger, and she whined, face flushed as she tried grinding onto your hand.

“That’s it, angel, take what you need, such a good girl,” you encouraged her, rubbing her clit slightly faster as she ground into you, a blushing mess as she did so. Mitsuri’s moans got progressively louder, loving the sensations once unknown to her.

“Mmh–! I– I feel strange…like something’s building up in me!” she whined, “what– what’s happening–!?”

You kissed her once more, quieting her, “shhh, angel, that’s a good thing, just relax and let it build up, okay?” She moaned again, grinding harder into your hand as she obeyed your words.

“I– It’s gonna–! I’m gonna–!” Mitsuri’s eyes rolled back, letting out a strangled moan as she came all over your hand, juices gushing into your palm as she rode through her orgasm, her hips undulating until she couldn’t take it anymore – quickly becoming overstimulated from the feeling of pleasure coursing through her veins.

“Too– too much! Can’t– no more!” she cried, tears falling down her cheeks. You licked at each stray teardrop, the saltiness of it coating your tongue as you stopped your movements with your hand.

“Such a good girl for me, angel,” you praised, and she hid her face behind her hands in pure embarrassment. You took her by the wrists and held them down.

“Don’t hide your pretty face from me, I want to see every last bit of your pleasure.” 

Mitsuri whined and asked “can you– can you do that again, please?” Her tone was so sweet, begging for more like a pathetic slut who has abandoned all of her morals.

However, you refused, “if you wish for more of that, you’ll have to please me, first.” Mitsuri looked at you, confused, before you shoved her down to her knees, her face in line with your hips – the pretty lingerie you were wearing disappearing in an instant before you took her by the hair and pulled her towards your weeping cunt. “Make me feel good, angel, and I might consider actually fucking you this time.”

Mitsuri’s eyes dropped from your face down to your pussy, admiring how sweet and juicy it looked.

When the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, she took from its fruit and ate.

So, she went entirely off of her own instinct as she brought her mouth to your heat, before licking at the wetness of it with her tongue. The sweetness of it coating the inside of her mouth like syrup; Mitsuri had never even thought of committing such lewd acts before, but now that she’d gotten a taste, she couldn’t help herself.

She started off shy, with kitten licks and tentative kisses on your clit. She may not have experience in giving pleasure, but she was there in the beginning when humans, angels, and devils alike were all created in the same image, and so she knew the insides and outs of their bodies unlike any other.

Her tongue delved deeper into your cunt, licking up any juices that seeped out of it, earning soft groans and grunts from you as you pulled at her hair. She adored your taste – it was addictive, a taste that she would gladly sin for if it meant she could feast upon it for the eternity of her damnation.

Her lips pursed around your clit before sucking gently, your eyes rolling back as she looked up at you. She whimpered, wishing you’d make eye contact with her and tell her she was doing such a good job – instead only receiving a few strokes through her hair as you thrived off of the pleasure that her mouth was giving you. Her own cunt was weeping, the heat from her abdomen becoming unbearable as she continued licking you up with her tongue – so much so that she reached down between her legs with her fingers, but before she could provide herself even the slightest bit of relief, you yanked her by the hair.

“You think you can touch yourself without my permission? Think you’re allowed to make yourself feel good? No, angel. Only I am allowed to do that. Any and all pleasure you receive, any and all sin that you commit, will be caused by me – for my sake.” You leaned down closer to her, breath hot against her face, “do you understand me?”

Mitsuri nodded, only to wince as you gripped her hair tighter.

“Say it.”

“Yes, I– I understand,” Mitsuri spoke softly as she removed her hand from between her thighs. 

“Good girl.”

You pulled Mitsuri up once more and, in an incredible display of flexibility, she raised her right leg so that it pointed up toward the sky, with you supporting her by holding her up by your hand. 

“Hah– you’re no angel, are you? Angels don’t act this way, y’know– you’re just a pathetic little slut, a pleasure-seeking whore that can never get enough,” you panted, before mounting your foot against the wall so your cunt was flush against hers, grinding against her wet heat. You grabbed her by the jaw and forced her to look at you. 

“What are you, hm? Tell me.”

“I– I–” she whined, “I’m– ‘m your slut…oh shit, ‘m your slut!”

“That’s right, you’re nothing but a stupid cumslut, aren’t you? Raised to be holy and perfect, but look at you, drunk on lust all because some demon tempted you. How pathetic.” 

Mitsuri whined as you ground into her, feeling absolutely no shame as she condemned herself further with each movement of your hips. The familiar tension in her gut started to build up once more as she took everything you gave her.

“Nngh– it- it’s happening a-ah– again!” she moaned, and you ground against her faster.

“That’s it, slut, cum all over my cunt. Sin for me.” 

Mitsuri’s thighs trembled as her orgasm flooded through her in waves, her mind addled with euphoria and lust as her pussy gushed all over you, her moans so raw and unbridled as she allowed you to claim her as yours, knowing she will never find pleasure like this through anything or anyone except you.

You are my God, and I give thanks to You;

You are my God, I extol You.

“My– my God,” she panted, “you– you are my God.” She knew it was blasphemous, yet she didn’t care, for she found a new being to worship, to love and to praise as she damned herself for the rest of eternity, certain that she would choose this over holiness in every lifetime if given the honor to do so.

For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. 

Amen.

Taglist: @oreo-creampie, @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @pastelbluecloudy3, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @bisexuawolfsalt, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701

(If your name was crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you - apologies for the inconvenience)

I hope you all enjoyed!!! 💕

#demon slayer #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #kny smut #mitsuri smut #mitsuri kanroji #demon slayer mitsuri #kny mitsuri #mitsuri x reader #kny kanroji #demon slayer kanroji #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer smut #hashira #demon slayer headcanons #kny headcanons #kny imagines #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kanroji mitsuri #kimetsu mitsuri #kimetsu no yaiba kanroji #kanroji x reader #kimetsu no yaiba smut

[cntloup]

Yesterday, he would walk into the cold, empty house, utterly exhausted out of his mind and he would spend the night with a bottle of whiskey in his hand and a cigarette between his fingers. 

Today, he walks into the home you both have created, the sweet smell of cookies and his favorite meal taking over his senses and he would spend the night in his lover’s arms, basking in your warmth and love. 

Yesterday, he would jump into a burning building without a care in the world, mind fully focused on the job, even to the point of sacrificing himself. 

Today, he doesn’t take any deployments that are even remotely risky, the image of you and your smile, the sound of your soft voice telling him to be safe replay in his mind the whole time he’s out there on the field. 

Yesterday, he felt as though he was eternally doomed and life had turned its back on him from the start, letting himself drown deeper and deeper into the darkness until there was nothing left but a tainted wicked soul. 

Today, your light shines brightly on his once darkened world, illuminating the path of salvation as you breathe a fresh life into his damaged soul and carefully, delicately caress each scar and slowly but surely heal his wounds. 

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost riley #ghost simon riley #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #cod modern warfare #Spotify

[poetryinsilence]

A Wish for Eternity

Astarion x gn!magical!tav

A/n: am I madly in love with this elf? Yes. Do I wish to bring him everything he hoped and dreamed of? Also, yes. Hence, here I am, thinking about what happens after the epilogue, did he search for a way? If you play as a sorcerer or wizard, once you are at a higher level (not in the game), there is a certain spell that could achieve your hopes and dreams. So, what if…? Anyway, happy fluffy valentine's day!

Synopsis: a long journey of travelling through every corner of Faerûn for what seems to be an eternity. Luck sure isn’t on your side in your quest to find a mythical item, a cloak. Rumoured to be special, you are determined to find it, with your nightwalking partner, Astarion. But, fate has other things on its mind.

Word: 2,344

6 months after you reunited heartfelt celebrations with inebriated companions; the night never seems to cease with boundless alcohols and dancing to lively tunes until your feet refuse to leave the ground. Through thick and thin, nonetheless, such an adventure weaved you all together at the stake of Baldur’s gate.

At the right place, at the right time.

In a blink of an eye, another 6 months had gone by. On your quest, you trek through the marsh terrain on your journey and strangle a few swamp things; scorched and burned under the dry heat of the sun and almost meet your fatal death by getting swallowed up inside a giant sandworm; and almost, almost, stepped into the fey realm by no fault of your own. Suppose it wasn’t for a certain trickster. A very lovable trickster, mind you.

The relentless quest to acquire an article of clothing—a rare magical item; enchanted with each woven of threads. A cloak, to be exact, that was once said to have been created by drows of the Underdark. To allow one that’s weak in sunlight to walk freely under the blistering sun.

You first heard about this mystic item from none other than Gale. The wizard was lost in his recent reverie of taking upon the role of teaching, to no surprise. One night, while holed up in his tower, flicking through weathered pages of tomes, when he came across the wonders of this cloak. Intrigued, as he may be, wanting to study the magic behind this unique fabric. After all, a little more knowledge wouldn’t hurt.

But, it seems others require it more than him. Lo and behold, he appears when you think your luck has run out. Seems like Tymora has finally blessed you with a pat on the back, who would say no to divine intervention?

Although this is a solution to your current situation, it all just seems too good to be true. A flimsy piece of garment is your answer? You could swipe a black cloak from the market and enchant it yourself. Though you are well-versed in magic, enchanting items aren’t really your forte. Nor are you of drow descent to know such ways of crafting.

You had your doubts about this cloak, however, you do not doubt the reliability of Gale. If he said such a thing exists, then it must be credible.

Month after month of tracking your journey—based on one rumour that gossamer across Faerûn. With every possible lead, you travelled across the continent of the cityscape to the underworld. This endless journey may be gruesome, but you didn’t do it alone. Your lover, Astarion, walks amongst your shadow. By day, you are his shield protecting him under the blazing sun. At night, he swore as your sword to cut through the lurking dangers of the dark.

The Sun and its Moon.

He is the reason why you’re on this journey in the first place. To bring him the sunlight once more, to breathe in the life of the Pelor over the vast lands that were taken from him when he was still young. But the chances of finding this cloak are getting slimmer by day—like water slipping through the cracks of your hand. 

Astarion’s hope is getting dimmer, too. You tried to reassure him that you were certain the both of you were getting close; maybe you were just not looking at the right places.

Of course, he brushes you off with a smile and jokes that he’s not that interested in it because ‘cloaks cramp his style’. He persuades you not to mind it so much. Or, hoping you’d be the mirror reverberating back to him instead. But you can see right through the facade. Pride. Shame. Disappointment. All too familiar.

The guilt is rubbing off on you. When you talked him out of ascension, you believed that it would be the best decision for him. You were no better than the others.

No. This shouldn’t be the answer. If the cloak’s got you nowhere then you just have to look at this situation from a different perspective. Take matters into your own hands, even if danger is on deck. At the very least, you have to try.

You made camp for the night; a quaint spot overlooking the horizon that joins the sky and the sea, with the moon taking stage in a cloudless canvas. The pale elf took charge of the campfire with a stick in his hand to poke the flame. Next to him, you lie down with your hands weaving through the air, connecting the stars together, making a revelation to your own understanding of your magic. It flows through you like the air that you breathe; like calm waters gliding your hands.

This might be the perfect time to ask, though wyverns gnaw at your stomach, you’ve run through this scenario millions of times in your head. You’re prepared, you think.

The lavender and turquoise hue dissipates from your fingertips, you steal a glance in Astarion’s direction and sit up amid his distraction.

“If you’re getting tired, you should sleep first. I’ll join you in a little while.” He chimes out.

His little ritual, you’ve noticed. Whenever the two of you opted to camp in the arms of nature instead of paying for a tavern’s night and listening to drunk patrons shouting till the break of dawn. He would lay with you in your bedroll until you fell asleep, then as quiet as a mouse, he’d get up an hour or two just before sunrise. You’d caught him once, just as curiosity nips at you, slipping out of the tent and finding him sitting in the open field with the blades of grass swaying to its own rhythm. Just watching, waiting. Waiting to catch a glimpse of the sun, as it slowly casts life back to the lands, before the ray decays him. The light sears his skin and cracks like dry paint, biting down the pain as much as possible until he’s bound back to the shadows. Then you’ll find him in bed again like nothing ever happened.

“Astarion?”

“Yes, darling?” He hummed.

“What if…” you hesitated, “what if we stop looking for this cloak?” Your voice wavered at the end of your sentence.

The stick in his hand stopped. You can see it, the thoughts forming in his mind like a potion. Stunned, confusion and a drop of anger concocted in muddy colour. But like a cork on top, he bottled it up when he soon turned to face you, the warm glow lit up his plastic grin.

“Oh, heavens! I forgot about that until you’ve brought it up.” His voice is in a higher octave. A string of vicious mockery disguising his lie, in all honesty, stings more than you think.

“No, that’s not—let me rephrase this. W-what I’m trying to say is, how about we look for a different method?” You asked, hands fidgeting more than usual.

His crimson gaze pierced in you, they engulfed and tangled like flames, wanting to swallow you whole till you’re nothing but a pile of ashes. “Vampirism isn’t an illness or a wound. If a person dies, they could be resurrected. But I’m too far gone beyond the point of living now, darling. There is no other way.” He snarled, snapping his gaze away before he could say something he truly regrets.

“But..there is another way.” Your voice comes out with nothing short of a whisper. Astarion’s shoulders slumped as he perceived your words, now fire in his eyes had extinguished and reflected with the solemn of moonlight.

Hope.

You spring onto your feet and take his hands into yours, thumb gently caressing his skin.

“Don’t give me any hope. 200 years of hoping for hope has tormented me endlessly that I do not want to be part of it again. Please…I do not have the heart to take this…” Astarion whimpered. You can hear the sob suppressed in his throat for the last 200 years as his hands tremble, emotions so vulnerable and unravelled right in front of you that he so desperately tried to hide. It shouldn’t be like this. It breaks your heart to see the man earning his freedom, yet the illusions of shackles are still tying him down.

It is unfair.

You grip his hands tighter to your heart, biting down the tears threatening to spill. “When there’s a will, there is a way,” You smiled. “Astarion Ancunin, what is it that you wish for?”

“What? But—I don’t understand—“ his brows furrow trying to make sense of your words but failing. Yet, he can feel a tingle at the back of his neck. A sign.

“Please, Astarion. Tell me your wish.”

The warning bells in his mind are telling him to run, to end this conversation right here, right now. But the fluttering feeling in his gut is saying ‘This is it. This is the moment you’ve been desperately trying to find’. Now the sparkle in your eyes is drawing him in, things that he had been longing for, and the love you are showing him. The sign he’d desperately prayed to the gods for all these years.

“I wish…” he trailed off, “I wish to walk in the sun again. I wish to see this world in the light that I was created in; I wish to take back the life that was ripped away from me for all these years, in darkness and torment, to have what is rightfully mine.

I wish to live again.”

The soil beneath your feet vibrates and crackles, the fabric of your clothes softly ripples in the air; a lavender beam emerges through and etches your runes, circling a gateway around both of you.

“Then, your wish is my command.”

Statics channelling in the air as you tune yourself to the weave. You can feel it. You can feel it all—the dark musk of ember, the evergreen blades rustle, the crashing of ocean waves. Magic tying deep into the burrows of the Earth willing to your command, feeding brighter into your rune as you hold on to its reins. But, the power of this spell is not without a cost, like gravity dragging you down. Your face breaks into sweat with the force burning in your gut.

“Stop that! You’re killing yourself!” Astarion struggles to break free from your grasp.

“Don’t—I’m almost there!”

A sinking pressure presses in Astarion’s chest; it’s warm, then burns aflame but it does not hurt; the pressure pushes deeper, searing through his organs and scratches at each porous of his rib cage. And then, gone.

The sound of silence.

Your legs give out as you crumble onto the floor, ready for impact. With a swift motion, Astarion catches you in his arms and carefully lays you in his lap. His mouth opens, ready to protest with his snarky remarks but closes it again, brushing away strands of stray hair from your battered face.

You chuckled breathlessly, reaching your hand, heavy as it may, and cupped his face. “Your wish has been granted.”

The sky begins to transition in lilac as dawn breaks, the ocean glimmers on the horizon and songbirds sing their tunes again. The red flaming ball peeked through the crystal water, bringing out the soft glow of orange. As the first ray of light shines, the warmth of it carries. Hungry, delicate, a sign of life.

“I’m…alive.”

A gentle breeze picks up and brushes against his cheek; hot tears spew from the corner of his eyes. So naturally warm. So, very warm. The silvery strands swayed to the rhythm of the wind, and he inhaled deeply, as much as his frail body could hold, the nostalgic scent of sunshine, like a spring afternoon.

Then, an unfamiliar familiar sense came. A thud. And another. Something rattling endlessly at his ribcage threatening to come out and yet staying in its place, a rhythmic humming coursing through his chest to the tips of his fingers. A sound so loud thumping and yet so quiet as a whisper in his ear. A sense of jamais vu. 

“You'll always be who you are. No matter what you've become—a vampire or not. I will love you as long as life continues to breathe on these vast lands. And till the end of time."

Astarion squeezes you into a tight hug. He’s trembling in your embrace, and catching you off guard, he bursts into a fit of laughter. Maybe even your first time to hear him laughing with such carefree manner but the heat of his tears travels to your shoulder. Your hand finds its way to his soft locks, petting him as you melt deeper into his touch.

He pulls back, eyes frantically searching your face. “I-I don’t—I can’t—“ he clears his throat, “thank you, my love.”

He cups your cheeks and gravitates towards your lips. Sweet and velvety, your lips curl at his kiss. He pulls away just enough to admire your features; cheeks flushed rosy and eyes bright and confident. Everything about you is love-touched, that after centuries, someone could cut through the world to bring him back into the light.

“Now, are you going to stare at me all morning, or are we going to get some breakfast?” You teased.

“Actually, I was thinking,” Astarion eyes you up and down. Whenever he has some brilliant idea, it’s never a good one. “The tent’s been empty all night, and I think we should, um, keep our bedrolls warm, at least.”

His hand slithers its way under the hem of your shirt, running a hand at your soft curves. You sigh in defeat, knowing you could never say no to his lovable face.

“Fine. I guess breakfast can wait.” You smirk.

Hands flew to the collar of his shirt as you yank him down to your lips. You parted them slightly, an invitation for him to deepen his kiss, teeth included. It might be a long morning, but there are plenty of mornings yet to come.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #⭐️.doc

[auroracalisto]

no time to waste — the reader is an anxious overthinker, who believes uhtred could never love them back. good thing uhtred is well-versed in sneaking around and keeping quiet when he notices that they are confessing to hild. word count: 1.3k words tw: overthinking, anxiety, gn!reader a/n: i don't post any fanfic for well over a few months and i come back with uhtred of bebbanburg? please excuse me. i love this man. also, don't @ me for disappearing. i'm sorry. life happens and it sucks. k, bye. that's all.

“i love him.”

the words spilled from your lips before you could even think to stop them. hild stopped what she was doing, slowly glancing up at you. she had suspected as much, but she never was for certain. it was one thing she had thought for months. however, it wasn't her place. she wasn't about to tell you how you felt. that was for you to figure out, and maybe at some point, tell her about it.

the nun pursed her lips, but eventually closed her eyes and softly sighed.

“then you must tell him.”

“tell him?”

your eyes were wide at the thought of telling uhtred of bebbanburg that you loved him. how could you?

he had lost so much, because of love and because of the whims of the soul—would the dane even give you a second glance? would he even show a sliver of interest in your saxon heart?

no, he wouldn’t.

you clenched your jaw. anything was possible. uhtred and his warriors had proven that on more than one occasion. but would it be the same with you? could anything happen to you? would he truly believe that you loved him?

most importantly, would he love you back?

hild leaned against the table, reaching out to take ahold of your hand.

“you must. life is too short. the good lord has shown us time and time again. tell him before it is too late for either of you,” she said, a soft smile adorning her features. "our hearts are made for love. we are not made to live life alone. i chose to give my love to god. but you... you should give your love to uhtred. i know you love him dearly. i've seen it for so long."

she was right. you knew it. but a part of you didn’t want to admit it.

life was short. you had lost so many people—neighbors, friends, almost every member in your own family. and you knew that it was the same for uhtred. if anything, he would understand that life was short. he saw warriors die more often than not. warriors that fought alongside him for so long only to die at the hand of a dane, or a saxon, or deadly flu. no one knew their end—no one knew when the love of their life would never wake up, staying asleep in perpetual darkness for the rest of eternity.

“what if he doesn’t feel the same?” you asked, pulling your hand away from the woman as anxiety pitted itself in your stomach.

you often had a problem with overthinking. today was no different for you.

“i think you’d be in for a surprise if you were to just speak to him,” she said. “if anything, it would do you some good to talk to him, even if you didn’t confess. you could find where your heart truly is and see if your head could follow it.”

“i know where my heart is… but… uhtred. he…” you trailed off, not watching as hild’s eyes grew wide. you would have continued, burying your face in your hands with a groan.

“uhtred what?”

that oh-so-familiar voice spoke right beside your ear. you flinched, head shooting in his direction, hands nearly slamming on the table underneath them.

the very man of your conversation stood there with that cheeky grin he always had.

“you’ve been talking about me?” he teased, sitting down beside of you and grabbing your cup of ale. “do tell. i’d love to hear it.”

hild silently excused herself, squeezing your shoulder as she passed by.

“i.. we were just… we were just discussing how you will be leaving again soon,” you said, looking up at him. you could feel your cheeks burn from embarrassment, although you didn’t know what you were truly embarrassed about. he didn’t know what you had really been talking about.

he grinned. “i think you’re lying.”

there’s no way he heard, right?

he downed the rest of your ale before he slammed the cup down on the table, his grin unwavering.

“i think it’s time the two of us talked,” he said. “if that’s what you’d like.”

"what would we even talk about?" you blurted. "there is nothing i need to tell you. is there something you've been needing to tell me?"

he raised an eyebrow, hands raised in mock defense.

"y/n, i am not here to interrogate you. i can tell when you're nervous. do i need to rough someone up?"

"what? do i need—no, i don't need you to rough anyone up," you replied, dejected as he continued to not confess his own feelings. if he confessed that he loved you, that would make everything much easier, right? he just needed to say it. then, you could say, i love you, too. uhtred was a psychic—he could read your mind. surely, he could. that would be so simple.

but when had your life ever been that simple?

it was as if the universe decided to throw you into the mud as soon as you were born. they were not about to let up, either.

you stared down at the table, silence floating thickly between the two of you.

uhtred let out a soft sigh. "i heard you," he said.

you paused for a moment.

you misheard him. yes, that was it.

"what?"

"i heard you," he repeated, this time his voice much softer. he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head to face him. "i heard what you said to hild."

your eyes began to burn as tears of embarrassment formed. you pursed your lips, eyes trained on his.

"and you did not think to lead with that?" you said, trying to keep your tears at bay. he did not need to see you cry. he already heard your most vulnerable confession. that was enough for one day.

you pulled away from his grasp, standing up in the process.

"y/n—"

"—i understand, my lord. you do not feel the same. you do not need to humor me."

"y/n."

"i will take my leave. we have a journey, and i need to prepare—"

"—y/n."

he stood up with you, hands cupping your cheeks to keep you from talking any more.

"please allow me just a moment to confess, as well," he said, frustration evident on his features.

you swallowed thickly, eyes not meeting his.

"like you said, life is short. the gods do not allow us any warning. they take. they take, and they never give..." he trailed off, his eyes trailing down to your lips. "but at times, they allow us to find the people we need. the people we love."

you paused, eyes darting up to his.

"uhtred?"

"i love you, too. i had planned on telling you in a more... appropriate manner, but as you can see, i needed to tell you before you believed the opposite."

your eyes widened. you did not mishear, this time. you heard him loud and clear.

he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your lips, restraining himself. he let go of you, giving you a faint smile.

"well, off you go. you do have to prepare for the morning, do you not?"

you froze in your spot, staring up at him in disbelief. without wasting another second, you leaned forward, a hand on the back of his neck. decency be damned—you pressed your lips to his, your lips molding perfectly together as he wrapped an arm around your torso.

your saxon heart had long been taken over by the dane, and you'd never trade it for anything... despite how unsure you were at the beginning of the night. you would have to say something about him eavesdropping, later. but for now, all you could think of was the fact that he was actually kissing you—and it wasn't in your daydreams.

#uhtred of bebbanburg #uhtred son of uhtred #uhtred x reader #tlk x reader #tlk uhtred x reader #uhtred the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom #fanfic #reader insert #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #uhtred tlk x reader #hild #hild tlk #the last kingdom x reader #the last kingdom netflix #the last kingdom fanfic #netflix #gender neutral reader insert #gender neutral #fic #tlk fic #tlk fanfic #uhtred ragnarsson #uhtred ragnarsson x reader

[infinite-orangepeel]

EAGLESCOUT!STEVE/PERV EDDIE WIP EXCERPT FROM CH. 1

Capture the flag is all fun and games until it’s time to clean up the equipment and Steve is wandering through the woods trying not to infect himself with poison ivy like the better half of his troop did an hour ago. Now being treated by their resident Scoutmaster/Chief of Police–Jim Hopper–with calamine lotion and an eye roll.

He’s out on his own.

Strategically voyaging through the underbrush in search of the blue team’s flag. It’s the last one on his list and he’s dying to get back to basecamp to snag a refreshing post-win lemonade with the rest of the troop. Already salivating from the promise of tangy sweetness.

The sun is about to set. Sky blushing pink while the owls hoot from the branches of pine trees. Calling out to each other in harmonious song as the day comes to a close.

Steve’s back is sticky and warm from directing the game. His cheeks are flushed, exposed thighs bitten up by mosquitoes despite multiple reapplications of Deet, and his glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose from the slick sweat coating his brow bone.

To be honest, despite the itchy heat and craving for something ice cold down his throat, Steve looks forward to rare moments like this one.

In which he can breathe easily in the reverie of temporary independence.

No one to perform for.

No one to stop him from humming a tune under his breath and stopping every so often to investigate a patch of blooming elderberries.

No one to chastise him for plopping an unwashed piece of fruit under his tongue and taking his time to savor the sweetness.

No one to point fingers and accuse him of gluttony.

Out here in the quiet, Steve can pretend all that exists are the mourning doves, rabbits running from foxes, and the subtle breeze kissing the lakeshore.

He’s content. He’s at peace.

He’s—

He’s choking on his spit at the sight of the terrible scene in front of him—two men dancing with Satan beside a picnic table.

Two men entangled in an inconceivable fashion.

Two men running their hands over each other’s skin; half naked.

Two men–

Together.

Together in the way that only a man and his wife are supposed to be once they’ve married in the church, sworn vows, and moved into the modest house at the end of the cul-de-sac beneath the weeping willows.

Steve racks his brain. Unfolds the information–the proof from the good book–that every belief he holds relies on.

The verse, he thinks–thoughts spiraling out of control, ingrained savior complex kicking in, What about the verse? Don’t they know it? Didn’t their parents warn them? It’s—Hebrews 13:4; ‘Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous.’

They’ve yet to notice him. As if he’s camouflaged amongst the pine trees. Khaki blending in seamlessly like he’s just another part of the natural landscape.

In a sense, he is.

The first of the two men sinks to his knees like he’s praying for mercy as Steve has done all his life in the back of the chapel. He gazes up at the other man like he is God. Like he alone holds the divine power to cleanse sin, turn water to wine, and carve Eve from Adam’s rib.

Except, Eve doesn’t exist in this version of the story.

Eve is nowhere to be found and Steve feels like he’s entered a parallel universe where none of the former rules apply. Where this strange subset of humanity has scorched the Earth, burned the devoted ones at the stake, and anarchy now reigns.

The second stands above him in the widened prideful stance of a known pariah who foolishly believes he can outrun impending rapture and escape eternal damnation if he is clever and quick enough on his feet.

Steve can’t see his face, because similarly to the vile act he’s committing, the man is concealed by a vexing darkness. Curly tendrils of wild hair obscure his identity.

It’s odd. Unlike anyone else Steve’s ever known. Overgrown and hanging well past his shoulders. It doesn’t make sense.

Only girls are allowed to wear their hair like that. Boys like this—boys like him get sent away for such infractions. Excommunicated for their betrayal to patriarchal norms.

Men are supposed to look like men.

This man does not.

This man seems to toe and test every line and boundary like nothing can touch him.

Steve tries to get his feet to move so he can turn and run and disappear into the forest like the rest of God’s innocent creatures–the field mice, the deer, the fish in the pond–find somewhere hidden to seek asylum and preserve his fragile righteousness.

But latent curiosity slithers around him like a serpent with a fatal bite.

No cure.

No remedy.

Steve has no choice. All logical thought abandons him and perhaps for the first time in his life, he allows himself to simply watch and feel.

The man who doesn’t look all that much like a man leans a ring-covered hand back onto the rickety table like it's his personal throne and feeds his–his—genitals to the parted lips of the first.

Steve brings a hand to his own gawking mouth, ducks behind a tree to better shield himself, and tries to stall his racing heart.

“Lemme fuck your throat, baby. Open wide—wider. C’mon now play nice for me. If you’re not gagging on my cock then you can take it deeper,” the man rasps out as he thrusts his hips forwards and ensnares his black tipped nails into the hair of the kneeling man like vicious talons, “Good boy–there we go. Someone’s learned their lesson since last time, haven’t they? Stay open for me, sweetheart—keep that tongue nice and relaxed.”

thanks so much for reading !! please let me know what you think, feedback is always motivating and helpful 🥰

taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1 @disastardly @ilovecupcakesandtea @the-redthread @asbealthgn @bestofbucky @vampireinthesun @carlyv @shrimply-a-menace @lordrrascal @jjoesjonas @malachitedevil @anxiouseds @gay-little-bitch @jhrc666 @pinkdaisies1998 @mcneen @perseus-notjackson @eiddets @corroded-coffin-groupie @three-possums-playing-human @stevesbipanic @plutoshelm @arkenstoned @indiearr @they-reap-what-we-sow @gleek4twd @bunnyweasley23 @livingoutload @a-little-unsteddie @novelnovella @rugbertgoeshome @neverlandwaitingforme @anglhrts @madigoround

#to everyone who has encouraged me to write this au ily and i’m so excited #steddie #steddie brainrot #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic recs #steddie ao3 #ao3 steddie #steddie ao3 fic #steddie au #fruity four #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie #eddie munson/steve harrington #steddie fanfic

[eddsworld-the-masquerade]

New music themes for our main characters, starting with Tord. Hoping all subsequent pieces will be easier to make XP This one features a genre I never wrote in before, and a language I do not speak in and neither does Teto. Jazz said it is legible at the very least so, hooray. It's far from perfect and I hope Norwegian people can forgive me for that hahaha.

I'll be posting this, as well as "No Rest For The Wicked" (aka main theme) on my YT channel in July. Since I need some cover art for the music videos. Same will be true for the rest of the songs I'll write. Edd is next btw.

Like last time, lyrics and some ramblings under the cut

There was actually a different version of this song that I ended up completely scrapping as I couldn't come up with a chorus

My biggest sources of inspiration were early Korn, Slipknot and, surprisingly, "Ima's Tower", from The Void OST. The chromatic downstepping mostly. It really does create some angsty atmosphere. When I think about it, the characters themselves do have certain things in common, hm...

LYRICS

Dypt nede helt nederst Av en endeløs grop, Glemt og råtten, Legger min ødelagte kropp. (Deep down at the very bottom Of an endless pit, Forgotten and rotten, Lays my broken body.) En pendel uten snor. Et verktøy, en gang så nøyaktig Kan ikke gjøre en eneste sving Med all makt stjålet. (A pendulum without a string. A tool, once so precise Can't do a single swing With all its drive stolen.) I'm nothing but a shell. (Trapped in a prison cell) A ghost in the machine. (Living off adrenaline) Hope springs eternal, But not for my chest. Burning inferno Is all I have left. 'Cuz I am no longer human. Jeg er ikke lenger menneske. I am no longer human. Jeg er ikke lenger menneske. Sigaretten min sin glør Lyser i mørket, Som jeg prøver å huske Hvordan å puste inn. (My cigarette's ember Glows in the dark, As I try to remember How to breathe in.) Lukter nitrat og svovel Fyller luften. Røyk og krutt Legg igjen et hull i hodet mitt. (Smells of nitrate and sulfur Filling the air. Smoke and gunpowder Leave a hole in my head.) I'm nothing but steel. (It's all so unreal) A cog in the wheel. (YOUR PERFECT IDEAL) Hope springs eternal, But not for my heart. Learn to comply, And play your part. Go metal! THIS IS MY RIFFLE, THIS RIFFLE IS MINE! THIS IS MY BURDEN, THIS BURDEN IS MINE! Hope springs eternal, And mercy divine. Burning inferno, And poison for mind. I am no longer human. Jeg er ikke lenger menneske. I am no longer human. Jeg er ikke lenger menneske. Got nowhere to run, Ingen steder å løpe 'Cus I was never human. Jeg var aldri menneske

For the Norwegian parts, I've put italicized english translation in the brackets underneath. Except choruses cuz those just repeat the english lyrics.

Featured references and idioms:

First spoken verse is a reference to Edgar Alan Poe's "Pit and the Pendulum".

Ghost in the machine: Human consciousness and thought as an entity distinct and separate from the body.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast: People can always find a reason to hope, even in the bleakest situations. The phrase comes from Alexander Pope's poem Essay on Man.

Second spoken verse has words breath in and sulfur. This is in reference to Slipknot's song "Sulfur".

A cog in the wheel: Someone or something that is functionally necessary but of small significance or importance within a larger operation or organization.

This is my riffle, this riffle is mine: in reference to "Full Metal Jacket".

Mercy divine: not a direct idiom, but inspired by to err is human (to forgive is divine) Being fallible and making mistakes is inherent to being a human, and forgiving such mistakes is a transcendent act.

So it's mostly your typical nu metal angst XD Lots of parallels between being human and being a machine. Lots of self-imposed lies and false beliefs. Don't worry, we'll get 'em

#eddsworld au #eddsworld vtm au #music #emo tord era fr #volume warning? cuz u know...metal... #music to feel passive aggressive to #Youtube #as always answering the question in advance. made with fl studio and synthV #oh yeah this is technically his battle theme but i'm still deciding #if i should use this or just the instrumental

[veralevina15]

Radovid and his reflections on the Eternal Flame Frame 1 . Radovid (storyteller): "As a king, I could tell you a lot about the importance of the cult of the Eternal Fire for Redania... But you want to know what place I gave the Flame in my own heart, don't you? Plunging into the depths of the past, I recall the nightly returns home from the festive liturgy with a candle in my hands, wrapped in the smell of incense and with hot wax drops on my fingers. Again I hear the sobbing bass of the priest in the Red Stone Cathedral and the quiet prayers of my mother in front of the burning lamp in the palace chapel. I remember impatiently waiting for the moment when, after a long fast, I would be allowed to taste a delicious cream pyramid. And in a library, holding my breath, I examined the colorful Book of Hours with the mysterious notes of my sister Dalka. She had long ago exchanged the crown of a princess for a headscarf of a priestess" .

Frame 2. "But over the years, I realized that deep sincere faith does not fit well with government, especially as harsh as mine. If I pretended to be a righteous man, I would look no less hypocritical than the forest animals weeping out of decency at a hunter's funeral*. Priests are also sometimes far from holiness. In their sermons and actions, I recognize painfully familiar tools of royalty: fear, suppression of the will and manipulation. The clerics know better than I do how to direct people's religiosity in a direction that suits them". * engraving by Moritz von Schwind.

Frame 3. " Of course, strictly according to the letter of the commandments, not a single king deserved either mercy or forgiveness from the Flame. Therefore, I was always surprised by the story from Scripture about how, in the hour of darkness and sorrow, Fire from heaven appeared to Radovid I the Great, which did not scorch him and blessed him. But does the Flame listen to my voice? I don't know... I'm used to relying primarily on myself".

The inscriptions in the book*. Left page, scrolls around Radovid the Great: "Behold the flame of mercy" Text at the bottom of the page: «And tongues of fire appeared to him and rested one by one around him, illuminating with light». Text on the right page, visible fragments: “And everyone was amazed and wondered ... the Flame of heaven does not scorch him... Radovid, standing in the midst of them ... and lifted up his voice and... Men and women of Redania... This be known to you... Heed my words... This is predestined... Behold the Flame of Mercy... And everyone who calls... will be saved!”

* The basis was taken from a fragment from the book of the Acts of the Apostles about the descent of the Holy Spirit in the form of fiery tongues on the apostles (chapter 2 verses 1-21)

#radovid #radovid v the stern #радовид #king radovid #radovid v #radovid the stern #radowid #eternal flame #redania #the witcher #witcher fanart #ведьмак #the witcher 3 #wiedźmin #the witcher 3 wild hunt #artists on tumblr

[huariqueje]

O Que Será

Chico Buarque → O Que Será

that they are longing for in the alcoves

that they are whispering in verses and ballads

that they are dealing in the dark of the burrows

that is in the heads, run on the mouths

that they are lightning candles in the alleys

that they are speaking aloud in the bars

that they scream in the markets,

that for sureis in the nature, may it be

what have not sure, and never will havewhat have no repair and will never have

what have no size

what may it be

that lives in the minds of those lovers

that the most delirant poets singthat the drunk prophets swear

that is in the romarias of the mutilated*romarias it's like a

religious cerimony*

that is in the unhappy'spersons fantasy

that is in the prostitute's everyday

in the outlaws, in the helpless

in all the ways, what may it be

what have no honesty, and will never have

what have no judgement and will never have

what makes no sense

what may it be

that all the warnings will not avoid

because all the smiles will challenge

because all the bells will sound

because all the anthems will devote

and all the little boys will run away

and all the faiths will meet

and the same Eternal Father, that has never been there

looking at that hell, will bless

what have no government and will never have

what have no shame and will never have

what have no healty mind

what it is that happens to me

that rottens me inside

that comes from underneath my skin

and ascend my face

and makes me blush

and jump into my eyes betraying me

and push my chest and makes me confess

what there is no way of hide anymore

and what is not right for someone to refuse

and what makes me a begger, makes me beg

what have no size, and will never have

what have no heal, and never will have

what have no recipe and never will have

what may it be

that happens inside of us and it shouldn't

that disobey us, that is a default

that is like an aguardente that not satiate us *aguardente is

a drink

that is like to be sick in a party

that not even 10 god laws will conciliate

not all the potions will reliefnot all the spells, all the alchemy

that not even all the saints, may it be

what have no rest and will never have

what don't get tired and will never be

what have no limit

what it is that happens to me

that burns me inside, may that happen to me

that disturbs my sleep,may it happen to me

that all the shivers come agitate

that all the burnings come stir up

that all the sweats comes wet me

that all my nervous feelings are praying

what all my organs are claimingand a terrible fear makes me implore

what have no shame and will never have

what have no government and will never have

what have not healthy mind

https://lyricstranslate.com/en/o-que-sera-whay-may-it-be.html

#youtube #Mercedes Sosa #Julia Zenko

[diamondsinureyes]

Dazzlin Di's Creature Feature

10.3.23|Eldritch| "Divinity" Fandom: Black Panther Pairing: Namor/Shuri

Shuri Udaku has been regarded as many things

Prodigy...

Princess...

Futurist...

Faithless...

But she always saw herself as a scientist first and foremost-the one who will question, who will push against boundaries solely to test their strength. Shuri sees life as a constant quest for truth and she longs for the answers others shy away from, or disregard as irrelevant in the face of tradition.

And despite the mutterings of the elders, Shuri has plenty of faith-faith in the empirical. Faith in what she sees with her eyes and rationalize with her gifted mind.

Until this.

Until H̶̢̛͉̯͖̪͙̳̹͐̏̄̆̈̽̓̆́̏̿̐̓̂̚ǐ̷̡̜̝̪͓̱̘̻̝̖̩͓͐̽̃̋͂̎̋̋̒m̷̡̞̫̘̝̗̟̲̀̈̓̐͌̀͒͘͜

Now, in this space beyond time, Shuri relies on other sensations to divine truth. The touch of fingers, the caress of claws-

("̵T̴a̴l̷o̶n̸s̷,̴"̵ The correction comes gently. Ḧ̵̛̤͖̹̥̬̓͋̌̚ę̵̘̾́͊̌͝ͅ is always gentle with breakable things such as she.)

Shuri notes the feel of feathered scales against her bare skin, how they cut through the rushing air, or how they remain dry and protective amidst the overwhelming pressure of deep water. She measures the moments between each heated breath against her neck. Struggles to comprehend the way the world trembles when H̷̨̠͂̓ͅe̸̮̖͌̂̋̀̋ rumbles, pleased with her thoughts and observations.

Once, Shuri relished in transcribing her findings, in watching her ideas take form on paper.

She can no longer write them down, cannot visualize in the literal sense. No, sight was the sacrifice for this...for this gift.

For that is what Ḩ̷̬̗̯͈͉̭̌̍̓̚͜͝ë̶͖̉ has given her.

Ḧ̵̛̤͖̹̥̬̓͋̌̚ę̵̘̾́͊̌͝ͅ expresses regret when she remembers the baobab trees, the rhinos grazing, her brother's smile. Shuri feels it caress her lungs as they are guided to expand and contract. She is reminded that she had the opportunity to remain, to say no, to make the right choice.

But curiosity will always be Shuri Udaku's fatal flaw.

Now, Ḧ̵̛̤͖̹̥̬̓͋̌̚ę̵̘̾́͊̌͝ͅis her eyes.

H̷̨̠͂̓ͅe̸̮̖͌̂̋̀̋ is the air she breathes and H̷̨̠͂̓ͅe̸̮̖͌̂̋̀̋ guides her through every breath.

Shuri exists within H̷͙͑i̵͙͆̌̀̊ṡ̷̖͇͈̝̠͙̔͗ Darkness. And if that is her eternity, an eternity of blind bliss, of sensations so otherworldly that her gifted mind nearly unravels to process them?

Shuri recalls long ago reading the colonizer religion with its books full of laminated script--holding accounts both great and terrible--and a particular verse comes to mind.

She smiles as she is lead through her Darkness to a bed of downy feathers and silky scales and warm skin.

There is no fear within her--of evil or anything else. Nothing but burning curiosity, endless hunger, and sweet, slow-consuming desire for the Being before her.

The Darkness coils around her, and speaks:

Ṁ̵̮͚̯͚y̵͕̍̆͘ ̷̰̟̳͚́͑̕S̵̗̳̖̀̅̚h̴͍̰̥͠u̴͙̾r̴̰̀ͅi̶̢̲̠̹͌

And she is filled, fed, consumed.

Surely this is rapture, Shuri divines. Surely this is truth.

#black panther wakanda forever #nashuri #namor x shuri #eldritch lover Namor #Blind acolyte Shuri #dicreaturefeature23

[velvetwarfare]

The stained glass in the TORN APART CHURCH glistened meekly under the RED LIGHT OF THE NIGHT SKY.

Shards of religious depictions were BLOWN TO DEBRIS — much like their FALLEN STATUS. Still, despite the former angels’ downfall, the two managed to drag themselves through both HEAVEN AND HELL HAND IN UNHOLY HAND — until the very BITTER end. Candlelight was never one to break vows, as they were known as strict promises to keep up in Heaven — and one of which was to NEVER LEAVE HER LOVED ONE BEHIND NO MATTER HOW THICK THE VEIL OF DARKNESS BECAME.

—

Panting, the disgraced virtue slowly rose to her feet, gazing down at the corpse of a unknown sinner that attempted to snuff out Adam’s life. DEEP BURN MARKS EMBEDDED INTO THE CARCASS DUE TO HER HELLISH FLAMES. BLACK FIRE SPAT AND WALTZED AMONGST HER CRIMSON AND PITCH BLACK TALLOWS, STILL EAGER TO LICK UP THE REMINISCE OF BLOODSHED SHE COMMITTED IN ORDER TO SAVE ANOTHER’S LIFE.

A SELF APPOINTED GUARDIAN ANGEL STRANDED AMONGST HELL’S GROTESQUE LANDS, TRADING HER VIRTUE OF PATIENCE FOR HIS PERSONAL PROTECTOR IN THE NAME OF LOVE INSTEAD OF UNJUSTIFIED HIERARCHY BEYOND THE PEARLY GATES.

“ …Psalm 91. For he commands his angels with regard to you, to guard you wherever you go. With their hands they shall support you, lest you strike your foot against a stone. “

Slowly lowering herself down on one SCRAPED AND BLOODIED KNEE, Candle allowed her cambion wings to spread wide. BLOOD AND WAX DRIPPED AND DROOLED DOWN THE APPENDAGES, THE CRIMSON REFLECTION OF THE STAINED GLASS CASTING A GHOSTLY SILHOUETTE UPON HER.

“ Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear, because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love. “

Taking his hand in her CHARRED own, she presses a deep kiss to the top of his cut hand,

“ Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love is patient and kind, love does not envy or boast, it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way, it is not irritable or resentful, it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

And I love you, Adam. “

Crimson eyes BURN WITH UNDYING DEVOTION AND LOVE, the grip on his hand tightening.

“ …Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. God once said that it is not good for the man to be alone — and I will make a helper suitable for him.

And he did. And there was Lilith. And there was Eve.

But there was a third — not created under God’s guise, nor from a rib, nor from a verse, nor a psalm. She was created from the richest tallows and the most loving of kindness and patience, meant to fall and protect yet again. She would not allow him to bear the solitude of loneliness no longer, not in Heaven nor Hell. So they are no longer two, but one flesh. What God has joined together, let none separate.

Take me as your third wife. Take me as I am. Whether God destined it to be or not, I will shun him myself should he object, for I desire to be your eternal protector.

Please marry me. “

@moonlightsdew

#🕯️ VERSE: TORN THREADS. 🕯️ #moonlightsdew #I want you to know I lost my fucking shit writing this because I’m so INVESTED

[angeltreasure]

Okay just kinda rambling but wanted to share my thoughts and have someone who I respect to bounce off of. I like macabre and dark stuff, like vampires, ghosts, horror, goth, the whole thing. Now I'm not like trying to contact the dead or summon demons, I'm not an idiot. I find the imagery of that dark stuff lovely in a way, since it's not this cookie cutter materialistic crap of what society wants us to conform to be. Like, imagine a dark cathedral with a cemetery, crosses, angels, roses, classical music, that kind of images. I'm also a Christian, and believe in God and all that stuff. So I was thinking, since the idea of memento mori and the soul being eternal, would that perhaps be why I like the dark imagery? Cause I can appreciate the beauty of nature and praying for the dead and all that which is one of my favorite works of mercy, but I also find comfort in the idea that we only live once, so better to make the best of it cause we don't know when God's gonna come a knocking to bring us home.

I was attracted to darker things growing up too. I dressed darker, I gobbled up all kinds of videos of vampires and ghosts, loved horror movies, I wasn’t even scared of the cemetery the next street over from my childhood hometown. I had used a ouija board twice at different times, the first time I thought it was funny to prank a friend who used it with me. My all time favorite mass was at 6:30 PM at night. Depending on the time of year the sun would set before getting there. Mass at night in that big church (it felt big to me but now it’s so small) with its dark wood, so many beautiful stained glass windows were darkened by the night, candles were light all around the altar and many places for prayer in dark corners, the dark wood was beautifully craved in the whole place, and I was fascinated with what was behind the veil that I couldn’t see… especially in churches because the veil between Heaven and Earth is the thinnest! My apartment was haunted, or so I joked with my parents, because we had so much paranormal activity happen with seeing ghosts, hearing sounds like people walking, hanging on walls, lights would turn off, cold spots would be felt near the bedrooms, chains like a Scooby Doo ghost passing the hallway outside our doors around 2 AM, we had things go missing, we had chairs rock, the tv would turn on by itself, we had imprints of a person sit down next to us on the couch, I saw shadow people….Looking back, it was clearly a level of demonic infestation. We never had a priest over but we blessed the rooms a few times with Holy Water.

And of course, you can’t get more “gothic” than Catholicism, meditating on ancient prayers about His Passion were so powerful. I never had a doubt in Jesus’s true presence in the bread and wine. I found comfort in only living once too, and a verse burned into my mind ever since reading it at my grandmother’s funeral that goes something like ‘When we live we live for the Lord, when we die, we die for the Lord’. I was His, even with all my own sins and the terrible things I was going through in mind, I clung onto the Church. Even when news of the scandals came to light through better transparency and law, I clung onto the Church. Even my own priest, who I was suspected all along as gay, ran off and married as a gay man, I clung onto the Church. When my church had lied to me about why he left, I clung to the Church. When someone threatened suicide against me that I thought I fell in love with, I left them and clung even closer to the Church. Even with family deaths so close to each other, I clung to the Church. Searching for myself, who I really was, I cling to the Church.

Without my Church, I would not be who I was meant to be—- I would be a totally different person. I find comfort in the living Word of God. I may not dress as dark as I used to (especially when I walk up to the ambo as a Lector), even I avoid a lot of the darker music I found years ago, even though I also I avoid “fandoms” now, memento mori is still a big reminder to me and Catholicism is mien forever. I can’t imagine ever leaving especially knowing Jesus is truly present body, blood, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist and wine.

So, to answer your question, yes it could be a reason why you like dark imagery. Be careful where it takes you, as I know where it can lead if you go down the path too deep into its woods. I hope one day we can meet in Heaven. To be a saint is both our ultimate goal.

#asks

[princedrowning]

Eternal Bonds of Love.

Deep within love's enigmatic grasp we find, Two souls entwined, an everlasting bind. A poignant dance, hearts masked by bittersweet pain, Bound by fate, they suffer, never to regain.

Much Like Heathcliff and Catherine, their love burns bright,

Across the moors of Wuthering Heights, a haunting sight.

Their souls aflame, yet destined to be torn,

A love so fierce, their hearts forever mourn.

As Severus Snape, his love veiled in shadows,

For Lily Potter, he carried endless sorrows.

A secret devotion, a love so profound,

In darkness he dwelled, his heart tightly bound.

Like Dante and Beatrice, love's infernal fire,

Guiding him through the circles, higher and higher.

A longing unrequited, a love beyond reach,

He etched her name in verses, lessons he would teach.

In the depths of Gotham, the Joker's twisted game,

Harley Quinn's heart shattered, yet love remained.

A chaotic love, fueled by madness and pain,

A toxic dance, their souls forever stained.

In Middle-earth's embrace, beneath starlit skies,

Aerwen and Aragorn, their love did rise.

A bond so deep, like roots of ancient trees,

In their love, hope bloomed, as true as the breeze.

As Aragorn's kingdom in shadows did sway,

Aerwen's love, like the sun's warm ray.

In their union, strength and grace entwined,

A love as enduring as the Shire's green vine.

-Ryu

#dark acamedia #dark aesthetic #grey academia #dark academic aesthetic #young poets #poem #poetry #literature #light academia #my writing #deep thoughts #deep love #new poets society #writers and poets #my poem #og #writterscommunity #dark fantasy #tv series #writers on tumblr #darkacademism #english literature #chaotic academia #brown moodboard #writeblr

[danpuff-ao3]

Random Fandom Recs

There is so much dang talent in this fandom, truly!! And so many creations I love so much and want other people to enjoy with me, but individual recs for all of them would take way more time than I reasonably have! So for now....here are a list of cool fandom things you should definitely check out!

5 Fics

The hand that beckons

@bluesundaycake. Lily Luna/Narcissa. Rated T. 1k.

Seductive setting, charming characters, mythical and magical and just plain beautiful!

A young woman with hair like burning coals enters into gardens guarded by fire. 

Or, in which Lily Luna Potter is offered a feast and pomegranate seeds from one Narcissa Malfoy.

A Careful Approach

@digthewriter. Draco/Sirius. Rated E. 700 words.

Hot hot hot! Daddy kink Drarius brings me much joy. More, please!

Draco has wanted this for a while but never had he dared to ask. Until tonight.

white as death, fresh as snow

@lqtraintracks. Pansy/Narcissa. Rated M. 200 words.

Short, intriguing, lovely.

Narcissa visits her husband's grave on Samhain... with her new lover.

it's an inevitable

@swoontodeath. Harry/Snape. Rated E. 800 words.

A most special birthday gift to me from the ever sweet swoons! Voyeurism, student/teacher Snarry?? What more could a gal want??

Severus Snape can be patient. He's spent six years watching and waiting, after all.

Where Thestrals Fly

@writcraft. Harry/Snape. Rated T. 2k words.

Darkness & death, light & life...AO3 keeps telling me I've already left kudos here, which, rude. But I love the thestrals and the ritual of it and, of course, my BOYS!

Every Beltane, Severus and Harry undertake the ritual of moving Thestrals between the Bel fires. As they grow closer the light in their future steadily overpowers the darkness of their past.

4 Art

Untitled Snarry Art

@inarticulateimbecile. Harry/Snape.

Their work has so much character! And I especially love their Snape, with his harsh but captivating features! This piece especially does it for me, with the way Harry holds Severus close, and the way Severus touches and admires Harry's face...so much tenderness and passion here!

Untitled Snucissa Art

@luendland. Lucius/Snape/Narcissa.

Lu's art always just does things to me. Every line she draws captures so much feeling and I wish I knew how she did it!! And while I'm always partial to their Snarry work, this Snuciussa piece gave me all sorts of feelings!! The Malfoys are so pretty and hungry here, and Severus is on the menu!

Snape Tattoo Art

@mrviran. Snape.

So much dark, delicious art from Viran, and I always feel so dang inspired by their work!! Vivid and dark and evocative all at once! It was hard to choose, but I narrowed it down to this piece with Severus' Dark Mark + flower additions. I just have so much love for Severus and I have such feelings about him moving forward and growing and something about incorporating a new tattoo onto the Dark Mark evokes this sense of both acceptance of his past, and the independence he has to move on with his life.

Practice Makes Perfect

@sugareey-makes-stuff. Ginny/Cho. NSFW art.

God, I would recognize Krissy's art anywhere and I love it!! I was actually going to go grab her Pansmione art, but I noticed this one that I'd not seen before and WOW! I love the darkness for the passion and intimacy it speaks to. And the yoga here!! Two athletic ladies having a fine time, nothing to see here! Super spicy! Makes me need much more Ginny/Cho in my life!

3 Poems

rhyme, kissed

@imanakletos. Ginny/Luna. Rated G. 200 words.

Love Ginny's growth as a poet, and how clear her adoration for Luna is!

Free verses run rampant like wildflowers in your hair.

(OR: Ginny tries to write a poem)

An ode to Severus Snape

@bluesundaycake. Harry/Snape. Rated T. 100 words.

Who doesn't love some Snape love, especially from Harry's perspective? 'Exacting and eternal', indeed!

Harry is a masochist and it's definitely part of why he loves Severus so much.

Lovers' Flight

Anonymous. Harry/Snape. Rated T. 200 words.

Part of the Kill Your Darlings fest. So haunting and beautiful. Based on Goethe's poem "Der Erlkönig."

When Goethe meets Snarry

2 Recs

(Am I reccing rec lists? Yes. You can never have too much to read, after all.)

21 HP Slash Recs for 21 Years (2001-2021)

@consistentsquash

My advice would be to check out this list, read everything on it, then go follow Squash and check out her other recs. Sooo many cool lists with MANY excellent recs, but this is the list that brought me to Squash so it is the most special! Lotsa goodies on this one!

any draco/ron recs?

@sitp-recs

Another reccer to follow and read anything she tells you to!! Such a great joy to see all of Liv's recs, aaaand since I really love Draco/Ron I had to link you this one! (Though, seriously, read through these then go follow Liv for more!!)

1 podcast

Ep. 25 interview with perverse_idyll

@fanficmaverickpodcast @perverse-idyll. Harry/Snape. 2 hours, 33 minutes.

I've had the great pleasure of speaking with ChaosBlue and perverse_idyll both and they are both such stellar people I HAD to come rec you the thing that has them both in it!! They've been in fandom for a while. They have a lot to say. A lot of great things to say! All about fandom, writing, and one of my favorite fanfics! 10/10, can't recommend enough. I've listened to this episode quite a few times and it's definitely my favorite from The Fanfic Maverick!

ChaosBlue is such a PROFESSIONAL with hosting this pod so if you like this episode, please check out the rest! Super prepared, super sweet and patient and understanding, and such an outstanding human, I gotta say!

#danpuff recs #random fandom stuff #idk just come love stuff i love with me #please? #okay? #okay #good #thank you

[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 192

Barq (Lightning)

Barq (lightning) is a light that flashes in an initiate during the first steps of the journey toward sainthood. This is the first invitation to those seeking nearness to God. The scholars of truth have related the emergence of lightning to the verse (20:9-10), Has there come to you the tiding of Moses’ experience? He saw a fire and said to his family: “Wait here! I see a fire afar off”, and have concluded that such a flash of light means the be-ginning of Prophethood for Prophets and of sainthood for saints.

The first steps to be taken on the way of truth are belief, righteous deeds and wakefulness. For this reason, lightning can be re-garded as the first step of, not this journey, but rather the spiritual states (of sainthood) that one steps through during the journey.

The difference between lightning and ecstasy is that ecstasy emerges in the home of meeting with the Beloved, while lightning flashes when permission to enter the further sanctuary of the Beloved is given. For this reason, ecstasy sends zeal into the heart, awakening in it a burning desire to meet the Beloved from among the lights of state, urging the petitioning of more and more of His gifts and to rise to higher ranks. As for lightning, it hits the eye like a dazzling light and reminds one that the door of the Beloved is ajar. For those who are to cross the threshold of sainthood, we recall the following couplet of Ibn Farid,[1] a couplet full of excitement:

Has a dazzling lightning flashed from the direction of Mount Sinai, Or have the veils over the face of Layla[2] been opened part way?

So it is that while living in the dark night of corporeality and bodily desires, Layla began to show herself step by step and to send the hope of union into the hearts, and in the end the nights changed into days in the hearts of those who had been burning for union with her.

Because it signifies permission to enter the way to union, lightning is considered as the start of the journey for the travelers on the way to the Truth. At this setting out, God Almighty makes His servants, who are candidates for sainthood, aware of His offerings and grandeur and of the servants’ own helplessness and poverty, enabling them to awaken to the love of God and to form a sincere relationship with Him, abandoning attachment however slight to transient, decaying, earth-bound things. These are the first gifts of God. In addition, like the favors offered to Moses on Mount Sinai, initiates need to feel some things and change their solitude into company (with the True, Eternal Friend) to better endure the difficulties of the journey and the loneliness. So lightning can be considered as the pleasure of feeling God’s friendliness, and a favor given to counter the difficulties that a traveler is bound to face during the journey.

Lightning has another face, by which an initiate is reminded of God’s omnipresence and given the signal of self-possession. Initiates are warned that entering the Realm of the Holy Presence requires self-possession. Fear and alarm are aroused in their inner world by this warning. So, with its two aspects-one bringing deep pleasure and desire, the other causing fear and alarm-lightning serves to prevent the traveler both from falling into despair and from uttering words of pride incompatible with the rules of Shari’a.

The gifts coming on the wavelength of lightning are the Lord’s favors to the traveler; they are provision for the journey. These favors are the means of innocent delight for the traveler, because of Him Who sent them, and as a result of the recognition of poverty on the part of the one receiving. The traveler acknowledges this favor, as indicated in the verse (10:58), Say: “In the grace and bounty of God and in His mercy-in this, then, let them rejoice.”Reflecting on the Divine favors received, the person confesses that everything is from Him and proclaims: “All praise be to Him,” expressing the feeling of unworthiness for such favors, as Gedai did:

That which I have-I am not worthy of it; This favor and grace-why are they bestowed on me?

Thereupon the traveler journeying to God bows in humility and thankfulness.

The saying of the pride of humankind, upon him be peace and God’s blessings, I am the master of the children of Adam, yet I am not proud at all,[3] is the crystal in which this reality is reflected, from whichever side it is looked at.

O God! I ask you for good in its entirety, with all its beginning and end and with its visible and invisible, and high ranks in Paradise.

And may Your blessings and peace be on our master Muhammad, the intercessor whose intercession is acceptable to God, and on his family and Companions, all of whom are of great merit and loyalty.

[1] ‘Umar ibn al-Farid (1181-1235) is one of the most venerated poets in Arabic, whose expression of Sufi experiences is regarded as the finest in the Arabic language. He studied for a legal career but abandoned law for a solitary religious life in the Muqattam hills near Cairo. He spent some years in or near Makka, where he met the renowned Sufi al-Suhrawardi.  [2] In Oriental literature, Layla symbolizes the beloved one, and in Sufi literature, the True Beloved One, Who is God Almighty.  [3] Al-Tirmidhi, “Manaqib,” 1; Ibn Maja, “Zuhd,” 37.

#allah #god #islam #muslim #quran #revert #convert #convert islam #revert islam #reverthelp #revert help team #help #islamhelp #converthelp #how to convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam