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[barbieaemond]

A curse for a curse

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, sub!Aemond, smut, oral sex (f and m receiving), overstimulation, orgasm denial, p in v, chains kink (idk if that’s even a thing but it’s there)

Word count: 8.5K

Author’s note: PLEASE READ THIS ->There's a little canon divergenge as in Rook's Rest is not happened yet, so Aegon is King and Aemond went to Harrenhal. Based on a request I got for sub!Aemond by the lovely @valeskafics.

I hope you'll like it, lovely Bel! 🫶🏻💖💖💖💖

Taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @ashovertheriver (y’all i can’t remember the others, I had my taglist in my old blog so…sorry 🫠)

Harrenhal tastes like curse and smoke when she enters the blackened and ruined walls.

She is sure, as she is sure that dragons are real, that this place has been cursed over and over since Balerion and Aegon the Conqueror proved that not even stone was safe against dragonfire.

The air is heavy in her lungs, as breathing through a thick layer of wool and her steps echo down the corridors in a strange way; it seems like a never ending sound, echoing through the walls and many lost ages.

But her stride is steady, her eyes fixed on the doors of the Hall of One Hundred Hearths where she is sure to find him, where she will end this thing for which she has no name, and yet it is draining her, wearing her out like a starved leech.

“When is Aemond coming back?” the Queen Mother asks, and then little Jaehaera asks the same question, even Helaena, in those rare moments of clarity, wonders about her brother. And each time, she doesn’t know what to say. Her lip grows stiff, her jaw clenches and she wonders obsessively from dawn till dusk. What is he doing there?

Why has he not returned now that Harrenhal has been taken?

What is he doing with that bastard woman? 

“They say she’s a witch.” King Aegon says with his glassy eyes, putting down his cup as he looks around to choose a target on which to pour his anger. Wine seems to not work anymore, it is not enough to quench his thirst for revenge, and unfortunately, she happens to be the easiest mark.

“He killed everyone in that gods-forsaken place. Everyone except the witch.” He leans forward, watching her with amused anticipation just like a child who waits for his favorite toy to break. “Why did he not do it, sweet good-sister?”

He wants her to snap, and surely something does snap inside her, but she refuses to be humiliated like this.

“I do not know, your Grace. Perhaps my husband learned the Gods’ mercy and decided to spare a woman.”

His chest shakes violently as he laughs, and there’s nothing more humiliating than his laugh, not even the whispers traveling all the way from the Riverlands.

He’s taken her as his prisoner, keeps her in his chambers.

She has utterly bewitched him.

Every word is a stab to her heart and every time his word reaches her through a raven, the wound splits more open and festers.

He does not mention the bastard witch. He says nothing on the matter. He informs her of the war progressing, tells her he will come back soon.

Soon.

Soon was two moons ago and he’s still there.

It doesn’t matter anymore, she thinks as she reaches the doors of Harrenhal. Soon is now.

The look on Ser Criston Cole is almost comical as two soldiers open the doors of the Hall of the Hundred Hearths. “Princess?”

She immediately looks around, but there’s no silver in that huge black hall.

“What are you doing here?” the Hand asks, walking to her “It is not safe for you—”

“Where is the Prince?” she cuts him off, her tongue hitting her teeth like a blade cleaving the air.

Ser Criston looks puzzled for a moment, and even if she doesn’t show it, anguish twists her gut. But then he says “The Prince is not here, your Grace. He’s out, on the battle camp.”

She looks at the soldiers in the room, watching her like some kind of weird creature—a lamb in a den of wolves. That is no place for a princess, no place for a woman. And yet, it is precisely her place.

She belongs to his side. As he belongs to hers. It’s what she’s been telling herself for two moons of sleepless nights.

She should have come here with him in the first place, war be damned.

“Leave, please.” She orders the men “All of you. I need a word with the Hand.”

They may not be used to taking orders from a woman, but they immediately leave the Hall like a pack of unruly children.

The thud of the doors is like some kind of curtain falling and she is finally free of this act, free to snap.

“What is going on here, Ser Criston?”

He shifts on his feet, looking down, looking utterly incapable to answer her question. “The situation in the Riverlands is quite delicate at the moment—”

“I don’t give a shit about the war, Ser Criston.” She almost hisses “You are perfectly aware of what I’m asking.”

His mouth shuts and she resists the urge to use her hands as talons to part his lips and grab the truth from his throat.

“What is going on between Aemond and the witch.” she states, she is not asking.

The Hand sighs deeply and takes a step closer. His whole demeanor changes, becomes confidential, almost fatherly. “My Princess, you must not believe the foul whispers that have been spread.”

She feels a glimmer of relief blooming in her heart, but not strong enough to relinquish the leeches sucking at her bones. “What should I believe then?”

“It’s true. The Prince spared her life.”

“Does he keep her in his chambers?”

“What? Seven Hells, no. She has her own chamber. A little room in the wing intended for servants.”

“Did she ever visit his rooms? Alone?”

Ser Criston looks down for a moment, his lips contracting. “You must understand, my Princess. There are no servants here.”

The wound between her ribs cracks open.

There are no servants here. Did she help him dress? Did she help him bathe? Did she do all the things she used to do? All the things only she was entitled to do?

“I want to see her.”

“Princess, it is not wise.”

“I believe it is very much wise, Ser Criston, since my marriage is at stake here.”

 Ser Cole sighs again. “She’s…dangerous, my Princess. She’s eerily persuasive.”

“So, you think it’s true? That she’s a witch?”

“I’m not sure about her powers, my Princess. All I know is that…one of our soldiers spat in her face when she was still a captive by order of the Rogue Prince and she just…murmured something to this man.” He swallows lowering his gaze and takes a deep breath. “The next day he ripped out his own tongue with his bare hands, bleeding to death.”

Disturbing as these words can be, she keeps a steady and cold face.  

“She claims she can read the flames. That they speak to her, that she saw all of this happening—the Prince coming here. She claims she saw the fate of the war.”

A long silence stretches between them, but however right the Hand’s reasoning may be, she is not keen to let magic and superstitions take what she has come here to retrieve. “Take me to her.”

Ser Cole stalls for a moment, trying to make her give up by merely looking at her. But at last, he caves. “As you wish, my Princess.”

Her room is completely bare, save for a hearth and a bundle of dirty covers and a pillow thrown on the ground.

She enters and the air feels even heavier, more cursed. She feels it like something weighing on her shoulders, drying her throat.

There’s a woman sitting before the fire, clad in rags with long black hair falling down her back. She seems to register the door opening and closing only minutes later, as if she was too focused on her fire staring. But then she turns her head and looks at the woman before her with a strange smile.

“Alas, you have come.”

The Princess blinks quickly, watching the woman stand up and walk closely to her, chains on her feet and hands. She feels something unsettling under her skin, behind her eyes, as if she can’t stop looking straight into the green eyes of the witch, not even if she wanted to.

“You must be Alys.” She says, quickly scanning the witch before returning, inevitably, like a magnet, into her bright green eyes.

The woman, whose age is impossible to determine, keeps her smile as she looks at the Princess from head to toe. “You are exactly as I saw you in the flames.”

“That will save us some time, then. No need for introductions.”

“No. I know who you are.” The witch says, curling her cracked lips some more “I can see his mark on you.”

“His mark?”

“Yes.” She says, unnaturally widening her eyes. “He leaves a mark on everything. Things, places, people. Much like me, I’d say.” From her throat gushes a high-pitched laugh, jarring and spiteful. “We have much in common, the Kinslayer and I.”

The way she utters the last words makes the Princess grind her teeth, as if they were…what? Friends? Allies?

Lovers?

“Have you been in his chambers all this time?” she finally asks and the witch has the boldness to roll her eyes. “Is that the only reason you’re here? To know if he cheated on you?”

“Answer my question.” The Princess orders.

“Darling, If I wanted to fuck him, I would’ve done it ages ago.” She starts laughing again, grinning mischievously and then she sighs. “You left your mark on him as well. I can feel you in his head. And you are so heavy.”

She doesn't know what to make of that. There is not a single reason why she should trust her word. And it's not just the alleged powers this woman may possess. It's her whole demeanor. Haughty, even though she is a bastard. Mocking, as if she looks at the young woman before her, and sees much, much more.

“Just as you, I’d say, since he’s forsaken his family and his wife to do whatever you’re making him do it with your witchcraft.”

She bursts out laughing, so loud that the Princess flinches and takes a step back.

“I’m not making him doing anything. I can’t play with his head. He’s too stubborn. I did not curse him, sweetheart. Your beloved prince is already accursed.”

“Then what do you want? Gold? Lands?”

“I do what the flames command. I serve no God, no King, no Lord. And neither does your husband. It was his choice to see.”

“To see what?”

“What the flames choose to show. I know how this war will end. I know which color will stain the other for good. I know who will sit on the Iron Throne.”

The Princess furrows her brow, confused and puzzled, apparently pleasing the witch who smiles again and nods. “Oh yes, he will make a sight to behold wearing the Conqueror’s Crown.”

Who? Aemond? On the Iron Throne?

“So that’s how you’re keeping him here. With visions and fantasies.”

“He asked me to. At the moment I’m more valuable to him than all his generals and soldiers put together. Besides, I know how to deal with him.”

The Princess almost laughs at this. “I see. You think you can handle him, don’t you? A wild dragon for you to tame, is that what he is for you?”

“Well, I’m not denying he’s handsome enough to please my eyes.”

“And once you have tamed him, what will you do? How will you handle him when you scratch the surface, and you see the neglected son? Lonely, misunderstood, maimed. The boy no one cared for.”

It is the first time the witch does not have a quick biting answer. It makes the Princess rejoice.

“All your witchcraft won’t be enough to handle him.”

The witch falls silent. There is a distant look in her eyes as she observes the Princess and the more she stares, the more the younger woman feels dreadfully uncomfortable. She starts to feel something in the back of her mind, like a gentle abstract push.

“Ser Criston." she says suddenly, swallowing but keeping a collected mask. "The keys, please."

“Your Grace, Prince Aemond will not be ha—”

“I’ll deal with Prince Aemond.” She says, looking straight at the witch and the ghost of a superb smile hovers on her lips “I know how to handle him.”

The Knight slides the keys from his armor and hands them to the Princess. She is ready to free the witch’s wrists, but she stops, locking her eyes on Alys. “There is a carriage outside. And some guards who will do whatever Ser Criston will order them. Take it and go wherever you want, there’s even gold in the—"

“I told you, I don’t want—”

“I don’t care of what you want!” The Princess snaps, raising her voice, and the pushing dissolves. “You live to serve the flames? Fine. Do it elsewhere, far away from us.”

Alys shuts her parched mouth, and simply nods. “As you wish, Princess.”

She removes the shackles from her feet, and then from her hands, holding the chains between her fingers. Alys touches her hurting wrists, before tilting her head down in some kind of bow, or maybe a mocking gesture. The Princess cannot bring herself to care.

The witch makes her way past the younger woman but at last, she stops for a moment, leaning back her head of dark curls to say “I did touch him, just once. He put a knife to my throat.”

Vhagar likes to nestle on the burned blackened towers of Harrenhal, like some kind of dreadful reminder of the legacy of ruins and ashes Balerion the Dread has unleashed on this cursed land.

Aemond enters the castle walls with his circle of counselors and generals. They crowd on him like bees with honey and he knows why. He knows that most of the time they don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. They hang on his lips and jump like little good soldiers, jostling with one another in the hope of gaining something more when the war ends. A land, a title, one of them had even had the guts to offer a daughter to marry.

“I am not sure of what you are implying, my Lord.” He had said to the Lord with a dangerous black glint in his eye, as the fool thought it was wise to remind the Kinslayer that he and his wife had had no children yet. “Whether you are insulting me or my wife. I am sure of one thing, though. You will shut your hole before I take your tongue and feed it to my dragon.”

There were no more talks of unwed daughters between those walls.

“My Prince, if you allow me—” one of them says as they enter the Hall of the Hundred Hearths “We should give the lords who pledged for the Blacks more time to consider—”

“I gave them enough.” He says turning with a glare, looking even taller than he is, with his silver armor streaked with gold and the long green cloak. “They will pledge to my brother before dawn or I will bring dragonfire to their lands. Then we shall see where their loyalty lies while they burn to the crisp.”

They all shush and Aemond almost thanks the Gods for this brief blessed moment of peace. He ponders for a moment and then looks at a young soldier behind him.

“Summon the witch.” He orders “Bring her to me.”

He looks down to remove his riding gloves but out of the corner of his eye, he sees that the boy is still there.

“Uhm, my Prince, the witch is not here anymore.”

“What do you mean she’s not here?”

“S-she left, your Grace.”

The last word does not even leave his mouth the poor soldier feels a hand around his neck and the Prince is easily lifting him from the ground as if made of feathers. “You let her flee?!” he rages with his eye blown wide.

“I-I did—not your Grace!” the boy manages to croak while he’s choking, legs kicking like a chicken in the butcher’s hands.

“He’s right. I did.” Her voice cuts through the air and Aemond turns his head in a blink, looking positively stunned to hear his wife, to see her there.

He lets the soldier boy go and stares at her on the threshold of the huge Hall. He blinks with disbelief, as if he’s finally able to see after days and nights spent in a cloud of fog. Something shifts inside him him—something that has been wandering ceaselessly day and night, lifting the weight from his shoulders, from his black heart. Not Harrenhal’s weight, not Alys’. A weight far darker, a curse far more dangerous.

“Out.” he orders the Lords “All of you.”

They obey at once, scattering down the Hall only to stop for a moment before the Princess, to pay their respect.

The doors close but she stays on the threshold. His eye roams on her figure, once and then twice. He has never seen her wearing such a simple dress, easy to disguise her noble roots, her royal ones. And even though the mere sight stokes almost three moons of ugly and burning desire, it only makes him angry. It only makes him ashamed.

“What in the name of the Seven are you doing here?”

She walks to him and without uttering a single word or even sparing a glance to him, she begins removing the heavy armor plates from his body.

“What are you doing?” he asks with deep wrinkles on his forehead.

“My duty as wife.” She replies sternly, holding his arm “Or did you forget you had one?” she looks at him and sees rage blazing behind his eye—rage and maybe a tinge of hurt.  

“Am I doing it right?” she asks removing the armor plate from his forearm “Was your witch friend better than me?”

The metal clatters on the ground as he grabs her arm, hard, pulling her close. “I asked you a question. We’re at war and you go strolling around the continent? Have you lost your mind?”

She tries to wriggle herself out of his iron grip, unsuccessfully as always. “How strange, that is a question I should ask you.”

“Enough.” He says grinding his teeth, digging his fingertips into her skin until her mouth twists with pain.

“Enough was two moons ago, Aemond. When you were supposed to come home, to your family, to me.”

“In case you didn’t notice, we’re at war, my dear wife. Things in war don’t go exactly as you planned them—”

“Oh spare me!” she cuts him off, freeing herself “Spare me the war talk, that’s all I’ve been hearing from you.”

“What did you expect exactly? Love letters?”

“I expected what I deserved. To know the truth. You have not mentioned her. Ever, not even once. Do you have the faintest idea of what I’ve been through all this time? Of all the dirt they have been spreading behind my back?”

“I don’t want to hear about it.” He says turning his back on her, as if he had not done that enough.

“No, you will.” She promises, circling him to look straight at him again. “They said you were so besotted with her to deny her leaving your chambers.”

“I don’t want to hear about it.” He says again, closing his eye for a moment.

“They said, and this was from the wretched mouth of your beloved brother, that you put a child in her womb since I was not able to give you an heir.”

“I don’t want to hear about it!” he shouts, and she knows she hit a nerve there, because he never shouts.

“Why? Does it make you ashamed? It should. I had to hear all of it. I had to endure it while you stayed here playing fortune teller with your witch whore.”

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath and raises his gaze to look at her, dead serious. “You know nothing about her powers. She saw many things, happened precisely as she predicted. I needed her. I needed her powers and you had no right to send her away.”

“You needed her?” she repeats, pale with utter disbelief. “You needed her for what? For her to tell you how good you’ll look wearing the Conqueror’s Crown? To feed you with fairy tales while we risk our lives staying in the capital, unprotected because Dreamfyre can’t fight and Tessarion is still in Oldtown. What if the Blacks decide to attack us now? They have a dozen of dragons, we have only Sunfyre.”

“The Blacks will not attack.”

“Did she tell you this? Did she see this in the flames?” she can’t fight back the contempt curling her lips “Are you listening to yourself? Flames and visions to win a war? You poor fool.”

“Watch your mouth, woman.” he seethes “You don’t talk to me like this.”

“Or what? Are you going to chain me up? I kept her chains, you know? I thought you’d like a token of your time with the witch.”

“Did you come here for this? To make a scene like some common girl who feels threatened by another woman?” his lips turn upwards, curling and twisting with ugly deprecation “What do you think you know about the war? What is your contribution while you lie around in a lavish castle waiting for me to come back and fuck you? I’ll tell you. None. You can’t even perform your duty to give me an heir. And you come here to lecture me?”

The wound is rotting from the inside and he’s pouring salt on it.

“I came here for my dignity. As a woman, I have nothing else. I came here for your mother, who I fear will go mad with worry just as your sister. And lastly, to tell you that I’m with child.”

Aemond stills completely, so much that she thinks the witch’s curse is hitting him right now, no matter how far she is, turning him into stone.

“But it seems utterly irrelevant to me right now. So, go. Hurry! You might still find her.”

She moves to leave the room and he does it at the same time, trying to reach her, to stop her, but she flinches as he tries to touch her, battling his hands away.

Aemond utters her name, softly, and it makes her stomach turn.

“I will leave at dawn.” She informs him with a blank face “I won’t disturb you and your precious war any further. Fret not, husband. I will stay in my lavish castle like the good soldier I am, waiting for you to come back and fuck me.”

This is place is not only cursed, but it is also so freezing cold that she wishes for one of those direwolf furs the Northerners use to wear as she sits before the hearth in what she assumed to be Aemond’s chambers. The room is large, even larger than the ones they share in the Red Keep, but it’s completely bare and almost ominous with its black walls that stink of ash and smoke.

A cursed place, fitting for a cursed woman.

She has been for quite some time. Because she chose to stay by his side, because she chose to love him.

“We could turn to a Septon. Annulments are rare but possible. You cannot remain married to a Kinslayer, it is the highest of sins.” Her father had said in the aftermath of Lucerys’ death. She had looked at him like he was some kind of lunatic.

As if she could leave him, as if she could turn her back on him and marry another man.

As if he hadn’t left his mark on her.

She thought the Gods had cursed her for good, that was why, however much they tried, she couldn’t bear his child.

“A child is the highest of the blessings from the Gods.” Her mother had said during one of her last visits to the capital “How can they bless your union with a man so accursed?”

And yet.

She is impatiently waiting for the sun to set. Even if her limbs have never been so heavy, as much as her heart, she finds no reason to stay here, not when she can’t stand even the sight of him. But of course, how can there be peace in such a cursed place?

She hears the door opening. She knows his gait. She wished to hear it for two moons as she lied alone in their bed.

She hears him approach until he is beside her, but she does not look at him. She only sees his arm holding out a small tray.

“Eat.” An order, not an invitation.

She doesn’t even bother to look at the food, keeping her cold gaze on the fire. “I’m afraid I lost my appetite, dear husband. You can thank yourself for that.”

She can feel his eye piercing, burning her skin, the air coming from his nose short and harsh.

“Eat or I’ll feed you myself.”

She doesn’t bother to even answer this time.

Aemond stares at her, waits for her to look at him, he needs for her to look at him. “Is it true?”

“What?”

“That you’re with child.”

“In my husband’s lovely words, I lie around all day so I guess I’m capable enough to notice if I miss my moonblood.”

He leaves the tray on the stone mantelpiece, noticing a pair of chains lying there, and then looks down at her.  “You will stay here with me.” Another order.

Another rejection. “I will not.”

“Yes, you will. You are not going anywhere, not in your condition.”

“I see. Now I’m worth something to you, am I not?” and finally she looks up “My duty is fulfilled, my womb is finally swollen. It’s a shame your witch left, we could have asked her to look in the flames and tell us if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Aemond lowers his shoulders and grabs her chin with the same cruelty he is used to brandish his sword, tightening her cheeks to prevent her from uttering another word. “I said enough.”

He watches as she tries to escape his grip, pushing his shoulders as her eyes grow more and more scornful, and he knows he deserves it. But that ugly thing breaks, snaps like a thin rope pulled too tight.

His mouth is on hers, fingers squeezing her cheeks to force her to take his kiss, which is not really a kiss, but more of an act of war, a relentless and rather quick siege, because she was already starving. She opens his mouth and this alone makes him whine with relief as his tongue slides between her teeth. Her hands grab his doublet collar, knuckles turning white and she angles her head, only to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood.

He winces as he pulls his head back and sees her licking her lips, a dead distant look in her eyes. But her hands move, gently, through his silver strands. "My words are but blunt knives on you. I must hurt you in the only way I can."

“I did not touch her.” He says like an oath “Ever.”

“I know you didn’t.” she reassures him, but her eyes stay distant, as if even being this close now, they are also miles and miles apart. “Maybe it would’ve been better if you had.”

“Did you want me to fuck her now?”

“I wanted you to need me, not her.”

His eye is on flame, rage and shame dancing together, but it’s not aimed at her. He finds that the only person on the receiving end is none other than himself.

Something dies in his eye, his shoulders slump and his head falls forward, hiding what no one would dare even think of seeing on the stern, cruel face of Aemond One Eye.

He kneels before her and lays his head on her belly, catching her off guard. She can't see his face, and yet she has it before her eyes, clear and indisputable as something carved into stone.

The surface has never been so frail. She doesn’t even need to scratch it, she only has to lift it.

No man is so accursed as the Kinslayer.

She had thought it true enough, but what about Aemond’s curse?

“I know you feel guilty.” She says, or rather whispers, as if she’s being blasphemous by accosting such a word to such a man. “I know you feel guilty for Jaehaerys. For Helaena.”

His answer is mute, but it’s the loudest confession she could get.

He fists the fabric of her gown between his hands, knuckles turning white on the verge of breaking. She feels him nestling further inside her, like a child, and she closes her eyes for a moment, placing a hand on her wound to stop the bleeding, and leans over him, sliding her hands on his back, softly but firmly, as if helping him to stay whole, as if preventing him from breaking into pieces.

Aemond didn’t believe in curses.

He did not regret, not even for a moment, the murder of Lucerys. He did not care that the Gods had turned their backs on him. They had done it a long time before. He did not care of how people called him, of how they would baptize him in the annals of his lineage.

He had started to care, to feel guilt, after he actually killed his kin.

For he had killed Jaehaerys, he had killed Helaena.

Kinslayer. Kinslayer. Kinslayer.

In his head, he heard that word with his mother’s voice, with Aegon’s, Helaena’s.

He found some kind of peace, of solace, only in his wife. But then the war was calling and he fled to Harrenhal. It was his duty, it was his way to try to make things better, to get revenge. 

He had taken Harrehanl back and he knew he should have come home. But then the witch, the very same who had forced a man to rip out his own tongue, had spoken to him, talking about visions and flames, of predictions that happened to be alarmingly accurate, of him sitting on the Iron Throne with the Conqueror’s Crown on his silver head.

And he saw an opportunity, however blurry, to set things right, as they should have been in the beginning. He saw a way to get the upper hand in this war. And furthermore, as much as he did not realize it, he had found a way to stay away from the Keep. He would rather dare with witchcraft than return home and hear Helaena's wails cutting through doors and walls, and through his heart.

But next to the guilt had come the shame, for he had turned his back on his wife, for he could imagine the filth their enemies and non would spread, like shit flowing in the sewers.

He had tried to confine her to the back of his mind, but she became heavier and heavier as the days passed, along with the scarce letters in which he never mentioned the Rivers bastard.

She, of course, had sensed it immediately.

“You can’t win this war if your mind is elsewhere.” She had said one night, on one of his visits to her room.

He always stayed on the threshold, arms laced behind and poorly disguised distrust stretching his features.

“I told you to stay out of my fucking head.”

“You need not worry, my Prince.” She retorted with a chilling smile “I can’t play with your head. It’s too heavy…and ugly. And this woman…oh, she’s eating you alive.”

The witch is gone now, and yet she is still there.

She lingers on the walls of his chambers like a ghost, she imposes a wall between him and his wife and perhaps neither of them is strong enough to climb it. So, for days they just circle one another like wounded animals.

The Princess is staying with him of course. He has forbidden her to leave his side and she has caved, on one condition though. She has given him three days to deal with the Riverlands and then they will go home, together, where they are needed, where the mighty dreadful Vhagar is needed.

The day before their departure, Aemond returns victorious from the Riverlands. He has gained the allegiance of the lords in a way Visenya Targaryen would be proud of.

He will never forget the Lords' faces draining of color, probably pissing themselves, as Vhagar roared a war chant in the sky, and tongues of fire brushed the lands as warning.

He enters the chambers quietly and sees her crouched on the floor as her hands dig into a drawer, pulling out papers that she carelessly drops to the ground. Aemond closes the door firmly, announcing his presence, and she looks at him for a single moment before sighing in defeat, closing the drawer.

“Looking for my love letters?” he teases, for the first time after days of loud silence.

“I was looking for ink, actually.” she says looking below a paper left on the table. “Besides…love letters from you? Ghastly.” 

He can’t fight back the smirk curling his mouth as she walks close to him and begins removing the armor. He looks at her face and she’s stern, almost rigid in her gestures, in the way she touches him, as if she despises doing it and yet she can’t help herself.

He doesn’t have a clue.

He doesn’t know that her stiffness has nothing to do with contempt. He doesn’t have a clue of how much she aches for him. Of how much she wants for him to take her, fast and rough, as he often used to do, because she can’t stand to be treated like some porcelain doll to be cocooned thanks to his child growing inside her belly. She wants to be more than that, she demands to be his wife again.

“Have you eaten?” he asks her, gently, and she wants to break something.

She can’t stand it anymore. She can’t stand all the questions.

Did you eat? Did you rest? Did you sleep?

“Is this how is going to be from now on?” she asks looking up “You acting as if you are my maid?”

He clenches his jaw and his face turns stern just like hers.

“First you accuse me to have forsaken you and now you don’t want my attention. Make peace with your mind, wife.”

“I want you to be my husband.” She says getting close to him until she smells dragon and ashes.

She wants to bathe in it. “I want to be your wife.”

Aemond’s eye lingers down on her throat, on her constricted chest, and his lips part. “You are.” He vows, locking his eye on her.

“Prove it.” She whispers tilting her head with a challenge dancing on her parted lips, hovering against his.

He is one breath away from swallowing her whole but he stops, melding their breaths in one, and he grins. “Are you going to bite me again?”

“As if you didn’t like that.”

A moment later his teeth sink into the soft flesh of her lip, her neck. His hands are everywhere, frantic and needy. She can feel he’s restraining from holding her too tight, but she wants, no, she needs more. She wants him in her bones.

They move without logic, clinging to each other, trying to assert dominance on one another. He grabs her wrists and forces her down on the chaise beside the hearth. He is looking at her in the same old way, as if he’s blind to anything else. She aches so much for him that she’s breathing hard, the word please climbs her throat, slides on her tongue, but she will not beg for him.

In all truth, she doesn’t have to.

He kneels on the ground like a pious man at the altar, and she hikes up her skirts, spreading her legs to place them on his shoulders, heels pressing on his back to bring him close.

“You know what you want, don’t you?” He teases with a feral grin.

“Curse you and your hideous smirk.” She says sliding on the chair to bring her apex close to his overly talkative mouth.

“You love my smirk.” He says grabbing her thighs to secure them around his face. “Besides, I’m already cursed.” He leaves a red mark biting on the soft skin of her thigh, looking straight at her and how she startles, whining in half pain half pleasure.

She catches a glimpse of the sapphire glinting between her thighs before her eyes fall shut and she moans unnaturally loud as he licks a stripe along her wet folds and up to her apex.

She is trembling with anticipation, with arousal that pools from her, glistening his mouth and nose. Her hips begin bucking against him and he moans contentedly as he buries his tongue inside her, lapping and tasting like a starved beast.

Her breath grows shorter and shorter for how close she is already, so much that he stops to look at her with a spiteful grin. “Already? Gods, you must have missed me terribly.”

“Shut up.” She whispers hoarsely and pulls herself up just enough to grab his head, pulling his hair to force him to take where he left off. Her hips are rocking on their own against his face, nails scratching his scalp harder and harder as she comes undone in his mouth, while he hums with pleasure, drinking of all her. Eye fixed on her as he watches her throw her head back, spasming and trembling with a loud moan.

Her back hits the back of the chaise as she catches her breath and looks at the black ceiling in a moment of pure bliss. Two moons of anguish are but a distant memory, her mind is foggy, she doesn’t even remember the face of the witch.

He dismantles her legs from his neck and she looks down at him, cheeks red, watching as he climbs on her, unbuckling his belt.

“No.” she says, and she stops his hands. “Do you think I would make it so easy for you?”

Aemond looks at her, half puzzled half curious, and then she pushes him down, overturning their positions so now she’s sitting on his lap, feeling all of his hard length against her.

“It’s my turn to prove it.” She says raising an arm that goes on the mantelpiece behind them.

“Prove what?”

“That you’re my mine.” She promises, and Aemond hears the distinct sound of metal clinking.

She lowers her arm and he sees a pair of chains between her fingers. He is bold enough to smirk at her. “I thought you were the one who wished to be chained.”

“I’m not the one in need of a lesson.”

She grabs his wrist but he easily pulls away. “What if I don’t want to?” but there’s an intriguing glint in his eye, on the edges of his arched mouth.

“Then who will take care of you?” she asks with fake innocence, grinding on his cock, and she smiles as the air comes out of his mouth in a hiss. “Are you sure your hand will suffice?”

He looks at her with challenge, breathing slowly through his mouth, and he caves.

“Chain me.”

She smiles darkly and grabs his wrists, fastening the chains and then locking them to the sides of the chair. She stands and grabs his legs, sliding his back further down.

She notices his eyebrow rising and she looks at him. "I want you to be comfortable. I'm afraid this will not end so soon."

He swallows with anticipation and watches her as she slowly climbs back on top of him and begins to unbutton his doublet., pushing the fabric aside to reveal his diaphanous pale chest and her hand slides over it, over his ribs, stomach, and navel, halting his breath.

Her lips hover against his, swallowing his shallow breath, but suddenly her head dips down, leaving a trail of little heated kisses on his neck, on the planes of his chest.

He watches as she does that, feeling her lips like burning embers marking his skin. Her eyes lock on him and she opens her mouth engulfing one of his nipples, circling her tongue around it. He tilts his head back, lips parting to let a puff of scorching air out, and then she's grazing her teeth over the soft pink skin.

The chains metal clink as he winces.

She grins pulling herself up and slides a bit down his legs with her bottom, so she has open room to his belt. She begins unbuckling it, looking at him, watching the glare he’s giving her.

“I can’t tell whether you want to kill me or fuck me.”

“I need you to fucking do something.”

“Like what?” she asks, palming his cock through the fabric “Tell me, husband. I may grant your wish.”

He rocks his hips in one slow movement, trying to feel every inch of her hand, but it’s a faint touch that only makes him ache for more. “Move, grind on me.” His voice is imperative as always, but his tone is different—all heated and husky.

She frees him of the constricting belt and breeches and lays on him, releasing a blissful sigh when she feels the hot hard flesh colliding perfectly against her core. The chains clink again as he tries to move and she smiles, caging his snatched waist between her legs.

Aemond is panting quietly, trying to get a grip on his own body but he finds it’s a useless fight when he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt.

But then his wife seems in favour of granting him some mercy. She starts grinding on him and his lips part some more, panting loudly this time, as he feels, and hears, the beautiful obscene sounds her wet flesh is making rubbing on him.

“Lift up your skirts. Let me see.”

She stops grinding and he almost whines with annoyance, moving his chained wrists in a useless attempt to grab her waist and force her to move again.

“I don’t like that tone, husband.” She says, and her voice is husky as well, her breath labored “Ask nicely.”

Aemond is silently starting to regret this whole thing. Patience was never one of his virtues, if he even has virtues. He’s completely at her mercy and cannot do anything but comply.

“Please. Lift your fucking skirts and let me see.”

“Hmm.” She hums smiling. “Better.”

Her skirts turn into a bundle of fabric around her waist and he dips his chin, looking straight at their flesh as she resumes her torture.

“Fuck” he utters, his eye growing heavy but he keeps looking, and he doesn’t have a clue whether it’s the rubbing or the mere sight of her coating his cock that draws a moan out of his throat.

“Do you see how I much I’ve missed you?” she asks hoarsely, grinding more and more firmly.

His head hits the back of the chair as he keeps panting and rocking his hips against her, lifting his waist as if desperately trying to slide inside her.

“I touched myself every morning. I woke up all wet and aching for you. And where were you? Here, plotting with your witch.”

“Enough of that fucking witch.” he croaks, a sheen of sweat is ghosting on his forehead. “Faster.”

She does the opposite. She stops altogether. And this time, he can’t do nothing to muffle the whimper gushing out of his trembling mouth.

The Princess tilts her head, savoring each moment, and soon his piercing glare comes back even sharper. “Once I’m free of these fucking chains, I’m going to fuck you senseless till morning.”

“Unless you are still chained to this chair in the morning.”

He watches as her hands hover on his thighs, a feather touch that drives him mad, that makes his hips buck uselessly. His lips twist, swallowing a plead his pride won’t allow him to let go.

But she hears it nonetheless, in the way his fingers flex and twist, in his chest raising fastly. It may suffice, but it doesn’t.

“Stubborn, are we?” she teases, just like her hands, barely touching down his navel. “Your witch got it right. She said you are too stubborn, that’s why she couldn’t play with your head. She couldn’t handle you.” her fingertips finally dip down and she can see the silent plead in his eye.

“I can, though.” her palm brushes the tip and he whimpers, again.

“Please…” he whispers impossibly low, too low for her liking.

“Louder, my love.”

His mouth twists again but the need, the ache is so heavy that it burns out all the pride numbing his tongue. 

“Please…” he begs freely “Please, touch me.”

A groan rolls out of him as she finally grabs it, squeezing softly before starting a slow rhythm up and down. He pants loudly, hips moving on their own as he tries to fuck her hand with a steadier pace. “Don’t rush it.” she scolds him, placing a firm hand on his waist to stop his frantic movements.

“I can’t take it…let me come…”

“Already? Gods, you must have missed me terribly.”

“You’re cursed, woman.”

“Takes one to know one. A curse for a curse.”

She looks at him, hair all ruffled and sweaty on his forehead, a painful pleading expression twisting his sharp features and she smiles victorious. “I have half a mind to leave you like this.” She says and for a moment, he dreads she’s being serious.

“Luckily for you, I’m just as greedy as you are.”

In a swift moment she nestles between his legs and he’s moaning loudly before he even has time to register anything, except her lips locking around his tip, sucking so harshly he thinks she’s going to utterly drain him.

She starts a steady pace, just as he likes it, taking all of him, down to the base untili it hits the back of her throat. The chains clink and clink against the chair as he twists his wrists, bucking his hips harshly to fuck her mouth as deeper as he can, enthralled by the lewd sounds she’s making.

“Gods, yes…” he moans watching carefully as he slips in and out of her “Yes…just like that, just a little more…”

She feels him tense inside her mouth, she feels him tense all over and she knows he’s dangerously close. She stops for a moment, licking her lips and looks at him. “Don’t tell me you’re going to break the rule.”

Aemond groans with frustration, not having the faintest idea of what she’s talking about. He isn’t even sure he remembers his own name. He is just blood boiling and bones so tense they’re close to snap.

“What was it again?” she asks “Ah, yes. My seed belongs in your cunt.” She leaves a trail of soft kisses on his hard flesh and he whimpers once more. “My ever-romantic husband.”

“Fuck the rule, you’re driving me mad. Let me come.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please.” He begs “Please let me come in your mouth.”

The Princess is merciful enough to grant his wish. She engulfs him once more and he moans loudly for how sensitive he is. She picks up the pace and pride washes over her, pooling between her legs, as she sees him writhing beneath her, moaning with his mouth open, eye closed shut and the chains clink like a frantic bell while he twists his scratched red wrists.

He curses and mumbles nonsense under his breath until he stills completely letting out a long and loud grunt, spilling abundantly inside her mouth. She swallows to the last drop, gently sucking the pulsing tip.

The chains are finally still and silent. He’s breathing hard and short with his head thrown back, staring at the ceiling without seeing anything.

That is until he winces, feeling her hand on his sensitive skin. He raises his head to look at her, almost puzzled. She smiles slyly, moving her hand up and down. “Did you think it was over?”

If he did not feel so spent, he would be utterly thrilled and definitely flattered.

“Seven Hells, woman, give me a bre—” words die on his tongue wiped out by a hoarse gasp as she takes him in her mouth again. But this time, she sucks so slowly that Aemond actually whines in pain. And she looks straight at him, while her head bobs, relishing every moment, watching as he comes undone beneath her, babbling pleads, begging her to stop and a moment later to keep going. His voice is breaking, cracking as he whines and whimpers, poised between pain and pleasure.

Soon though, she hears more whines of pleasure than pain, as gets harder and harder in the hot haven of her mouth.

Suddenly she stops, and just stares, savoring the sight before her. The cruel Aemond One Eye, chained to a chair in a mess of sweat and sobs.

“Untie me…” he says, trying to make it sound like an order, but it’s a pale imitation of his usual tone. His words are slow, sluggish.

“You are not in charge here, my love.”

“Then quit the act and fuck me.”

Perhaps, if she wasn’t so equally desperate for him, if she wasn’t leaking between her thighs, she would have prolonged this torture, this excruciatingly sweet punishment. But she can’t take it anymore.

She climbs on him, and it takes her the least effort to let him slide inside her. He slips his back further down that chaise so that his hips are angled just enough to thrust into her, fast and steady.

“Oh Gods—yes!” she moans throwing her head back, frantically bouncing on him.

“D’you miss this?” he rasps, with a tinge of his usual infuriating confidence “Did you think of this when you touched yourself? Missed my cock inside you, hmm?”

She clamps a hand on his mouth to shush him and he bites her palm, thrusting even harder, making her whine loudly until her throat goes dry and her sight go white. They fall in a wild frenzy, utterly intoxicated with each other, leaving bites and marks all over, sealing one inside the other with a curse much more dangerous than any kind of witchcraft.  

They come together, as she clutches his head to her chest so tight that he can barely breathe. He rests his head on the chair, slowly catching his breath, and she nestles against him, still sank on him.

He moves his hands to touch her, wincing for his aching wrists.

“Untie me now, would you?” he asks softly on the crown of her head.

“I’m not sure.” She muses against his chest. “I’ve quite enjoyed having you at my mercy.”

“Who said I didn’t?”

She moves her head to look at him, a little smile starting to light up her face and he looks down at her lips, mirroring her.

“Besides, it’s your turn.”

She raises her eyebrows fighting back a smile. “Now?”

“Haven’t you heard? No man is so accursed as me.”  

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[serene-sun]

Hey! Congrats on the promotion‼️ Also I has a request for you~~

I feel like there isn’t enough Chubby fem readers in this fandom. However you are one of my favorite authors. You see where this is going?

My request is: Could you write a Copia x Chubby Fem! Reader please? It would mean the world thank you so much!!!

Thank you lovely, and yes I got your request previously. Sorry for the long wait- I currently have the flu. I agree, there really aren’t, and copia loves you so much. This is mainly more of a comfort fic and fluff, because it shouldn’t be a big deal if your chubby since your beautiful either way! You know what I mean? But everyone needs comfort :)

𝕮𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆

Pairing: copia x fem chubby reader

Summary: you and copia grow close as you prepare for the spring ball, if only your insecurity didn’t stand in the way

Warnings: insecurity, stereotypes, small mentions of nudity and boobs, cumulus is fairy god motherrrr

A/n: every body is beautiful, there will be a part two that will be makeup sex,

REFERENCES: shoes | dress | copia |

“Yes papa,” you say, hands clasped together as you nod your head.

“Ah what would I do without you, bel sole.” Copia says as he places a hand on your shoulder.

You smile softly, a small blush appearing across your face as his eyes leave yours.

Papa copia wasn’t very touchy with anyone but the ghouls and his brothers. So it was times like these where he would give small moments of affection to his favorite siblings.

Today, you were helping papa with preparing for the spring ball. It was a staple of the abbey to greet the new season with a special party. Rituals and ceremonies would follow.

You had just finished brining groceries into the ghoul kitchen, they had their own wing as well as a den and kitchen and such on. Now that you were papas assistant, you took it upon yourself to take care of the ghouls as well as your leader.

“Ah! Did you get the macaroni I like?” A ghoul popped up from behind you, startling you out of your daydreams.

You straighten your habit, “uh…yes I think so.” You say as you regain focus.

“Hey, you alright? Look a little pink.” He says, a concern voice growing.

You look at them and smile, “oh I’m fine, just hot.” It wasn’t the truth nor a lie. The red apple of your cheeks was both from the layers of your uniform and the activity.

“Let me I unpack, go to your room and cool off.” They say as they take a few of the bags, “I know it must be hot in all of those layers.”

It’s not like you were dressed for winter, but you refrained from the tight and showing uniforms the other siblings wore. You stayed to the traditional full length and modest coverage, you were more focused on worship than lust as most others had, so you saw no need to sexualize yourself. It had its pros and cons, you mainly wore full coverage because of your insecurity a on your curves. It hurt to see them in the mirror, and you tried but couldn’t get rid of the soft hills and valleys of your body.

You always grew up with Barbie dolls and shows that showed ‘normal people’, so from the young age you grew up thinking that your beauty was negative. However you were happy for the other women bigger or the same size as you that proudly showed off their shapes. It’s not like you hated chubby people, it’s just that you didn’t feel comfortable in your own body.

You walked to your room and closed the door, quickly pulling off the warm fabric. Your dorm room was between the ghouls and papas, all 5 papal chambers on one hall, as well as a hall for each era of ghouls.

As you got fully undressed, you were about to unclasp the back of your bra, breasts already about to spill from the black laced fabric before the door opens half way, a sorry gasp from the door frame.

“Ah! I- I’m sorry miss!” Papa exclaims, lips parted and wide eyes as he freezes at the sight of your body.

You let out a cold breath as you shiver, “get out! Get out get out! Why doesn’t anybody knock??” You fill with guilt as he quickly closes the door.

You melt onto the bed as you hide under the covers, “oh god oh god he’s gonna fire me now.” You worry as you shutter.

After a few hours, it comes dinner time and you are forced to meet him again.

“Eh..I want to apologize for earlier, it is completely my fault for not knocking.” Copia apologizes from behind his oak desk, a blush on his face, you can’t tell if he’s embarrassed or shy from your figure

“No it’s…it’s ok…it’s my fault for not locking the door.” You say, trying to brush it off your shoulder.

“Well…how about we have dinner in here? I’ll make it up to you, where’s your favorite restaurant? I’ll pay.” He says as he smiles

You’re a little shocked but nod, “eh…you might not fancy my choice but really anything works.” You smile, not wanting to ruin the now happy mood.

After you both have dinner, he hands you a glass of wine, “here, have a glass, we should celebrate preparations done for the ball.” He said as he brushed his finger over your hand as you took it.

You tried not to blush, you anxiously pulled the hem of the white part of your habit over your chin, afraid of his eyes lingered any longer he would see the imperfections.

“Well, eh thank you.” You chuckle as you take a sip, “cheers to you for making such things happen!” You smile softly

“Oh no amore, you made it possible, possible for us all to find happiness…joy…laughter and..love.” He says, almost lost in your eyes before lighting up, “eh in the party! The party gives us that.”

You shake your head, getting rid of any foolish ideas, “w-well thank you.”

After the night, he took your hand and kissed it, leaving you to your room in shambles. You were happy at first until you began to broke down, you loved him, so very much but he would eventually want to see you and take things further to nudity. You cried into your pillow. you set your rosary, the one he gifted you when you just joined the clergy, on your desk by your studies as you tried to calm down.

After a few days, you met the older man again in this office. A few of the ghoulettes swarming him with fabrics.

“You called?” You ask curious as to what the clothing was for.

The girls hummed, “he looks better in blue, it brings out his eyes.” One said, “no! Red! He looks darker!” The other replied

“Eh…I wanted your opinion on what to be worn at the ball.” He said sheepishly

“Well…I like the blue…” you say as you walk up to him, low voice as you straighten the loose tie, “like the rushing river, calm, strong…and beautiful.” You say, hand glazing over his chest, copia was silent, his eyes locked on you as he cleared his throat, “blue it is.”

You stepped back, shocked you got that close, “excuse me, I- I need to set up tables.” You say as you leave the office in a rush, “oh…gosh..” you mumbled to yourself as you hold your red hot cheeks.

Another day goes by, another dinner with the older gentleman and a small therapy session with cumulus, you finally grow the strength to buy a dress.

It was a high neck dress with layered bell sleeves and long skirt. It was white, and little green flowers on the edges. When you got ready, you had white flowers placed In your hair. It was nerve racing because the skirt was thin and if you looked close enough you could see the lining of your thighs and undergarments. It was snug around the bodice and breasts.

When you first stepped out the room, you hoped you look good.

When you met in the ball room, you searched for copia, but you hung to yourself nervously.

A hand was placed on the small of your back, you froze for a moment, “p-papa, you look lovely.” You say as he appeared, slicked back hair, blue vest and white button up.

He takes your hand, “you look ravishing…say, do you want to take a walk outside?”

You nod, lost in the feeling of his touch.

He walks out outside the party and into the endless gardens, “so tell me…why do you always wear that uniform?” He asks as the moonlight covered you both.

“Oh well…I’m not exactly as confident as others.” You say softly as his fingers intertwine with yours, “perhaps you changed me…”

“I feel you change me as well, I feel…new warm butterflies when I talk to you..” he admits, sitting you down by the roses.

You cover your face as you smile, “well I….i feel the same, like…like a wave of adoration.”

Copia sets a hand on your thigh, “perhaps…it is love?”

You want to hide away as his lips are only inches away from yours, “uh…I…I”

Copia places a hand on your chin, lifting it up to him, “mi amore, I love you, do you love me as well?” His upper lip brushes against your chin.

“Papa I…I can’t sa-“ you want to confess, but the large bell at the top of the abbey rings and you realize it’s not a dream from your endless lonely nights, but rather real with consequences. You pull away as copia leans in to kiss you, you stand up and stumble a little as he looks at you in horror.

“I’m sorry, I took it too fast amore please..” he pleads as he takes your hands, “let me restart-“

You feel tears swell, “b-but I- I love you too…” you say in a scared voice as you shiver, running off deeper into the garden as your heel falls off, leaving the older man in despair.

Copia held the glass shoe, a soft tear falling from his lashes.

#serene sun nocontext #the band ghost #serene sun spice time #ghost band #the band ghost x reader #serene sun writes #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls #ghost band fic #copia ghost #cardinal copia art #ghost copia #papa copia #copia x reader smut #popia copia #copia x reader #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia #copia my beloved #copia emeritus #copia fanart #copia x oc #copia #papa iv x reader #papa iv #papa emeritus smut #papa emeritus fanfiction #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iv

[fr3akingtf0utrn]

“I can fix that,”

Terzo x fallen angel! male reader

Warnings: nsfw 🙈, Terzo receiving, fingering, desk sex, anal(bc it’s gay), and remember it’s literally nsfw so expect the unexpected.

Summary: Terzo was looking for you all day as to wanting to either annoy you or just want to be in your company. But finally when he did, he found you slumped over your desk frustrated with the amount of work and files you had. So, he decided to help with that frustration..

(btw I haven’t check over this for mistakes)

————————————————————————

You were very important to the band and especially the clergy, always running around having to do something. To having to go on tour, practices, helping/taking care of the ghouls, and serving all of the Papas when needed.

So, it was one particularly busy day with way to much going on.

Seestor had given you multiple files to do along with the many tasks to tend to for the abbey.

The ghouls feeding den desperately needing to be cleaned, but also needing to give them their food.

primo needing help with taking care of the gardens because he wanted them to “have a different aesthetic”.

and secondo needing help get rid of some hookers he found and fucked around with.(you obviously didn’t stay long helping with that).

Between all that, Terzo was constantly looking for you, wanting to be in his “bel angelo caduto”s presence all the time because of his neediness.

Throughout the whole day, he only was able to see you drag a body to the ghouls den and into the feeding chambers and was about to walk to you but was stopped by a sibling.

Terzo groaned internally and looked behind the sibling seeing you casually throwing the bodies down the stairs, but snapped his eyes back to the sibling when they had mention Seestor.

Focusing back to you, half the day went by agonizingly painful to get through. As you finally got everything out of the way, you crashed down onto your office chair, leaned on your knees and head in your hands.

You had to drop your 2nd form and into your full demon/fallen angel form.

Your pitch black wings stretched out and feathers littered the floor slightly. Your horns grew almost as quick as your headache did from the day, and your claws gripped into your hair.

From going into your form, you didn’t notice Terzo was trying to summon you. You had been so pent up with stress and frustration that your senses were on overload and stopped all together.

Terzo was annoyed now, and was in front of your office door opening it to see you.

You hadn’t heard him walking in, and you threw yourself back against the chair, hands still gripping your hair, and growled, your teeth grew immensely sharp and glistened in the dimmed room.

Terzo stood there, eyes wide as he looked at your disheveled form. He hadn’t seen your full form since you went batshit crazy on Nihil that one time. Which was a couple years ago.

Terzo would be lying if he said you didn’t turn him on right now from your form. Between the way you growled, to the way your chest heaved up and down.

Your eyes snapped open as soon you smelt Terzo. His scent made your pupils constrict and sharpen and your head whipped towards him.

He tensed looking into your eyes. As soon as you made eye contact, your pupils dilated and you sighed.

Terzo furrowed his eyebrows and looked how frustrated and stressed you looked, he could see it in your eyes as you looked at each other.

“You look horrible,” He said as he stayed near the door. You narrowed your eyes and raked your claws through your hair. “Thanks,” you roll your eyes.

“I’ve been trying to summon you…are you trying to ignore me?” Terzo says crossing his arms and popped his hip leaning against the doorway.

“what? You have?” You raise your head and furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I’m sorry, Papa, it’s been a…stressful day.”

Terzo cocks his eyebrow, “I can tell, but don’t worry,” he uncrosses his arms and closes the door, hand moving to lock it, “I can fix that.”

Your legs were crossed and you were leaned back, your elbow was on your chair and your hand covered your mouth and nose. Your predatory eyes watches Terzo slowly taunt his way over here.

Your remove your hand and place it on your arm rest as he sits on your desk in front of you, his hands support him. He moves his leg to uncross yours and he was now right between your thighs.

You let out a growl, “come here.” Terzo complies and makes himself comfortable on your lap, but groans feeling you against him. Terzo runs his hand down your shoulder to your chest, feeling you.

Your hands grip his hips and bring him closer to you, chest to chest. He gasps and both of his hands are on your chest. You breath against his neck and inhale. Terzo shudders and brings a hand to your shoulder and stretches his neck and gives you more access.

“You’re pathetic.”

Terzo moans out as his hair is gripped and pulled back by your claws.

“Fuck!” He yells out as arches his back, grinding against you as you latch onto his neck. You sigh through your nose and lap up the blood at his neck. Terzo whimpers and groans as you leave marks on him, feeling the pounding pressure on his cock rise up between you both.

Your canines let go of neck and place wet kisses on the marks you left. You trail up to his jaw away from the marks and take a break to admire your work. Your claws let go of his hair and rake down his back and he shudders.

Terzo sighs out and looks into your eyes dreamily as you stare back. His eyes flicker down to your lips and hooks his fingers around your chin and lifts your head and leans down. You let out a breath as he stops a moment but smashes his lips into yours.

Both of your hands travel down to his hips as his hands are on either side of your face. You groan into the kiss as Terzo grinds down, trying to be as close as possible to you.

He lets out a strangled moan as you softly moan and release from each other. You both look down and see your clothed erections on top of each other.

You roll your hips up and bounce Terzo on your lap, claws digging into his hips.

“..ple-ase…” Terzo strains against you. You smirk and start to unbuttoned his pants and leaned back for you.

“I thought this was for me, punttano,” you tease him as Terzo rolls his hips in greediness.

He lets out a breath and looks into your eyes with lust, “it is, you’re just so irresistible, uno caduto.”

You narrow your eyes at him and lift him off your lap quickly. You flip him around, bending him and slamming him over your desk so his ass is free for you.

Terzo chokes out a gasp of surprise and his hands are on either side of him, palms hitting the desk along with him.

You glare at the sight and inhale, smelling his  arousal once more. You lean over him, trapping him underneath your big body, pushing against him.

You kicked his foot with yours, spreading his legs wider for you.

Terzo could feel almost every inch of you against himself as you held onto his hip with one hand and gripping on-top of his hand with the other, intertwining your fingers tightly as your palm hugged his ungloved hand.

Your breath fanned against his ear.

“You know, for the amount of Papas and leaders I’ve served for my time…” you started as Terzo shivered, “you’re my favorite papa.” You nipped his earlobe and in response he moaned hearing the praise and grinds his ass against you.

You remove your hand from his hip and stick two fingers in his mouth, “suck.” You commanded and he obliged. Terzo swirled his tongue around your clawed fingers.

You were able to make them less sharp and having control over them so you wouldn’t hurt him.

Once you decided it was enough lube, you lower your hand and slowly sink a finger in him.

Terzo moans aloud, feeling you long finger slowly sink inside. You curled the finger and his legs twitched against you.

You added another finger and scissored him. As you did, you whispered dirty nothings to Terzo and left bruises on him.

Adding one last finger just to be safe to not hurt him, a another moan rips throw Terzo as he grips the table and arches.

You chuckle at his form and take all fingers out making him whine, he squeezes around nothing.

He turns his head to slightly look at you, “are you ready?” You ask him and he nods, “Prendimi, usami come desideri, mio ​​signore!”

As soon as you heard that, you spit on your cock and pushed the tip in, he whimpers in response to the stretch. All of a sudden you slam into him, letting out a shaky gasp as the tightness of him squeezing you.

Terzos mouth was agape and he moved his hands in a prayer and underneath his forehead to catch it from hitting the desk. His legs shake as he feels your claws grip his hips and slowly drag your cock out.

Your cock glistened and watching him swallow you whole made something animalistic come out of you as you licked your lips

You slam back into him, smacking sounds beard throughout the room as well as the creaking from the desk and squelching from your speed.

You were now hunched over him, hands on either side and thrusting at an inhuman pace making Terzo scream in ecstasy. You grabbed a hold of the back of his neck and brought him up to you, your thrusts still going.

Terzo continued to let out repeating moans and curses from his mouth and not bothering to be quiet. But it’s not like anyone could hear you. You guys were on the top head of the clergy’s floor. No siblings to be found.

Your hand slipped to grip his throat and you bit his neck once again, your other arm wrapped securely and tight around his waist.

Terzo let out a silent scream and moved his hand above and behind his head to hold onto you. His other hand went to your arm around him.

The pounding in his chest matched the pounding in his core. You thrusts deepened as he leaned his head onto your shoulder and kissed his jaw.

“Cazzo, sono così fottutamente vicino!” Terzo gasps as your hand grabs ahold of his cock and his leg twitched.

You played with his tip as your thrusts quickened somehow.

“Vieni per me, mia piccola puttano,” you growled in his ear as your orgasm approached.

Terzo arched his back, making his ass flush against you every time you slammed into him over and over again.

Your hand quickened as well, jerking Terzo off so quickly he couldn’t let out anything. His body was twitching all over as his orgasm took over him. He came all over your hand and only a little on your desk. Him barely making a sound because of the feeling he got and his eyes rolled back.

You release him and he falls forward, his hands barely catching him before his hips hit the desk. You slipped out and he whimpered but you quickly push back into him to reach your peak.

You felt Terzo squeeze around you and heard his begging voice to stop and let out high pitched noises as overstimulation hit him. You never heard the safe word you guys had made awhile back so you sunk your claws into him, blood dribbling down his hips and slammed into him one last time.

You came with a slight roar/groan and threw your head back. “Fuck, good fucking boy..” your praise made him squeeze and you shuddered…

You released his hips and quickly noticed the mess as your eyes dilated back to normal.

“Oh caro..I apologize Papa, I didn’t mean to claw you that hard.” Your panic made you slip out accidentally making you both moan and Terzo’s head slammed against the desk.

His hands laid resting to his side on the desk, the movement causing his back muscles to move and flex.

You moved fast slipping on your boxers, and grabbed wet towels in the connected bathroom, along with ibuprofen and ice. When you came back he didn’t move an inch, only his back showing he’s still alive and breathing by it going up and down at a slightly fast pass.

You bit your bottom lip at the sight of him fucked out by his own cause, blood dripping from his hips, neck, and shoulders, bruises coming in basically everywhere on him, and his face being blurred from his paints by him being smushed into the desk by you.

He was so hazed he couldn’t see anything but the table and didn’t realize you were taking picture of him at every angle.

Once done with that, you started cleaning him up which must of awoke him by jumping at the contact of the towel.

“Hey, you’re okay, just cleaning you up, mi amore,” you mumbled as you wiped at the blood stains.

Terzo smiled and rested his head once more. As you finished with his lower half, you gently leaned him up and turned him around and picked him up. You sat down on the chair and cleaned his neck.

Terzo gave up on holding his weight up and slumped down on top of you, his arms wrapping around you lazily and inhaling softly as his head dropped on your shoulder.

“Darling, you still have slight stains on your neck from blood,” you stated but he ignored you and you smiled at his laziness.

You picked him up and grabbed a shirt to cover him. You quickly arrived at your room which was right near your office and laid down on the messy bed.

Terzo groaned and shifted as he slide off slightly and onto the bed but complied when you appeared next to him immediately.

He slid a leg inbetween your thighs and snuggled in closer to your neck as your arms wrapped around him.

You placed your chin on top of his head and closed your eyes, drowning in the warmness as your full form slowly went down from the relaxation.

You soon drifted off into sleep.

#ghost bc #papa emeritus #ghost band #ghost copia #cardinal copia #ghost terzo #papa terzo #terzo emeritus #terzo x reader #terzo x male reader #ghost bc x male reader #nameless ghouls

[fidjiefidjie]

⛄️Prosinec (Décembre)

Štědrý den (Veille de Noël) 🎄

Illustrations 🖍🖌 de Josef Lada

🎅 Vánoce (Noël) 🎁

Bel après-midi 👋

#illustration #art #christmas #josef lada #décembre #december #noël #artwork #prosinec #veille de noël #art et talent #belaprèsmidi #fidjie fidjie

[doriangray1789]

İlahiyat fakültesi son 8 yılda 22 den 114 e çıkmış buna karşın adi suçtan kaynaklı adli vakalar ( adalet bakanlığı sitesinden rakam ve oran alınabilir) patlamış.. demekki toplum ahlakı buna yada “günaydın”a bağlı değilmiş  ayrıca ülkede cuma namazı yasak değil  cuma namazına gidenler sorun mu yaşanıyormuş ? Bu algı yaratılarak cuma gününün tatil edilmesi farklı bşr amaca hizmet eder..namaz Arapça bir kelime değildir daha önce yazmıştım kuran da geçen “salattır” diyanete ve TDK ya göre “dua” namaz” olarak açıklanan salat’ın kurana göre anlamı ise: yardımlaşmayı ve destekleşmeyi ifade eder.zira  Mekke ayetlerinde şiddet, baskı, ölüm emri vs gibi hükümler yoktur. Sadece bir kitle kazanılmaya çalışılmıştır.Kur'an'ın bel kemiği cümle şudur: “Onlar Salat'ı ikame eder ve zekatı verirler.” Bu klasik anlayışta, 'Onlar beş vakit namazı kılarlar ve kırkta bir zekatı da verirler' şeklinde algılanmış ve şu anda hocalar da hep böyle söylüyor. Halbuki burada maksat beş vakit namaz ve kırkta bir zekat değildir. 'Onlar salatı ikame eder ve zekatı verirler' cümlesi Onlar yardımlaşmayı, dayanışmayı ve destekleşmeyi ayağa kaldırır, uygular ve ihtiyaçtan fazlasını da verirler. Zekat, ihtiyaçtan fazla olan şeyi vermek demektir. Zekat malı fazla olan demektir. Kur'an'ın ilkesi de budur.Siz bunu tutup 'Onlar beş vakıt namaz kılar ve kırkta bir zekat verirler' dediğiniz zaman ne oluyor? Bu sure mahvoluyor.Kur'an'da salât yaklaşık 130 yerde geçer. Güneşin hareketlerine bağlı 2-3 yerde namaz, diğer tümünde destekleşme/dayanışma anlamındadır. Kurana göre ibadet nedir: İnsanların hayrına işler yapmak, adalet ve iyilik için çalışmak, yoldan taşı kaldırmaktır ibadet. Din yaşamın içinde bazı davranışları sergilemektir. Din davranıştır. Din demek amel demektir. Marksist tabirle din praksistir. Pratik etmektir. Etmeye, eylemeye, davranmaya yöneliktir din. İnsanlar arasındaki davranışla ilgilidir.örnek:sakız orucu bozar mı?” orucu sakız değil yalan bozar. Başkasının emeğini çalmak, kendine ait olmayanı almak sadece orucu değil dini bozar. Öldürmek, çalmak, yalan söylemek Sadece monoteist dinlerin değil politeist dinleründe yasakladıydı şöyle bşr din gördünüz mü: çalacaksın öldüreceksin iftira atacaksın insanlık bu şekilde devlet bile kurmadı fikir biçimle değerlenir  eski bir fikre yeni biçim vermek ise sanattır şimdi derler senin inancın yok nasıl bu konu üzerinde yaZarsın - Cevap basit : bilgi ile okuduğumu anlayıp akıl süzgecimden geçirebiliyorum bşr de gerçek olanı zahirden ayırabilecek irfana sahibim 

[pcwt]

ROUBAIX’23: Van Der Poel The Fastest Hell In History! Pt.11

Sunday's fast day in Hell

Mathieu van der Poel won the 2023 Paris-Roubaix in the best possible way, solo. The Alpecin-Deceuninck rider crossed the finish line in the Roubaix velodrome, after he rode away from Wout van Aert on the cobbled section of Carrefour de l’Arbre. Van Aert had to let the Dutchman go because of a puncture. Jasper Philipsen out-sprinted Van Aert for second place for an Alpecin 1-2.

Paris-Roubaix Result: 1. Mathieu van der Poel (Ned) Alpecin-Deceuninck in 5:28:41 2. Jasper Philipsen (Bel) Alpecin-Deceuninck at 0:46 3. Wout van Aert (Bel) Jumbo-Visma 4. Mads Pedersen (Den) Trek-Segafredo at 0:50 5. Stefan Küng (Sui) Groupama-FDJ

[freifraufischer]

So How To Get Your Favorite Gymnast to the Olympics... a primer

Now that we have the last of the 2023 Worlds Qualification events over it's time to go through what comes next... how do they get to the Olympics?

2022 Worlds - The top three teams from the team final earned a trip to Paris - USA, GBR, CAN.

2023 Worlds - The next 9 teams in team qualification (excluding the three from 1) go to Paris

2023 Worlds - Teams 13-15 in team qualification earn 1 non-nominative spot at Paris. That is a spot that the federation can assign however they wish and it counts against the 3 maximum that a country can send to the Olympics if they did not qualify a team.

2023 Worlds - 14 gymnasts with the top AA scores not any country that qualified a team in points 1 and 2, 1 per country get a nominative spot to the Olympics. That is it's for them by name and if they end up not going to the Olympics it goes to the next person in line their country can no reassign them. If France qualifies a team (which is likely unless the French federation manages to destroy itself between now and October) then this number goes up to 15 because they get an automatic slot as host country for 1 individual.

2023 Worlds - The highest ranked gymnast from each apparatus final that is not from a country that qualified a team in points 1 or 2, and did not qualify in the AA QF described in point 4 gets a nominative spot. If there are no gymnasts in the final that fit that criteria they go the apparatus qualification list.

2023 Pan American Games/2024 European Championships/2024 Asian Championships/2024 African Championships/2024 Oceania Championships - The top AA gymnast from qualification who is not from a team that qualified in point 1 or 2, and who did not qualify individually at Worlds.

2024 World Cups - Two gymnasts per Apparatus based on points from the 4 events in Feb-April 2024. Each apparatus is 1 per country so one country can not take both uneven bars slots but they could take 1 slot from three different apparatus.

Things to know... the order matters. If you have qualified in one of the earlier numbered steps you don't count in the later ones. So if say Kovacs Zsofia qualifies in the AA and is in the bars final at 2023 Worlds it's the AA slot that she takes not the bars one. If a country qualifies three people through 2023 Worlds then the later qualification steps wont be open to them because they've already gotten their three.

So what does that mean for your favs?

If we project the results from 2022 Worlds and use them as a guide for 2023 Worlds the teams would be USA, CHN, GBR, FRA, CAN, NED, BRA, AUS, ITA, BEL, JPN, GER. That doesn't mean these will be the qualifiers (other than the USA, GBR, and CAN who are already qualified) but they're who you expect to be likely.

The three countries that would have taken the 13-15 slots were KOR, MEX, and HUN. I think those are going to be your likely spoilers.

Now let's move to some darlings from small feds (or former Americans in new hats in some cases). Oksana Chusovitina is currently only qualified to worlds on vault and uneven bars so those are the only events she can participate on. So you say, she's got a good chance of getting the vault spot from worlds.

Well... no I don't think she's the odds on favorite. YEO Seojeong (KOR) would have taken that spot if it was awarded based on last year's worlds. Now KOR is sitting in that spoiler spot as a team so maybe they make the Olympics as a team and then she's off the table. Yeo has also done the AA in the past but she's not Korea's best AAer on paper so I would expect one of her team mates to qualify through the AA.

Chuso's best path to her 9th Olympics is likely the 2024 World Cup series but there are a number of small fed vault specialists who will be very competitive with her and I doubt we'll have any real sense what her chances are until we see who qualifies at Worlds. For instance RASMUSSEN Camille (DEN) could beat Chuso in that series but she could also qualify through the AA at Worlds and be out of that pool. And who knows if the Russians will be battling out in that World Cup pool.

Similarly I think NEMOUR Kaylia (ALG) is the most likely person to take a bars qualification out of Worlds but she also could qualify in the AA and unlike Yeo she doesn't have team mates who may qualify above her. Nemour also has a clear advantage if she's still looking to qualify at the 2024 African Championships. I think that provided she stays healthy she is a safe bet to make it to Paris.

I think floor and beam are pretty up in the air.

So now we get to the messy questions about former Americans now competing for other countries. If you map this qualification process onto 2022 worlds the AA score of the last qualifier for Paris would be 48.866. I expect that to be slightly higher at 2023 Worlds because there were a number of AAers who didn't do the AA at 2022 Worlds who will have incentives to do so here. I expect the cut off to be somewhere between 50-51.

Here are what some other names to note got at their continental championships this year in the AA.

ESCALERA Natalia (MEX) - 53.266. She will likely qualify through the AA at Worlds.

MORENO Alexa (MEX) - 51.600. Moreno has competition for the best potential AA score on the Mexican team (see Escalera) but if the fields repeated themselves at the Pan American Games she would be in the position to be the AA qualifier for the Pan American Union. If she doesn't well she goes into the thunder dome that is the 2024 Apparatus World Cup.

IRFANALUTHFI Rifda (INA) - 51.298. An AA score that I think should be in the right range to qualify, from a small fed with no competing team mates. I think if she repeats her performance from Asian champs at Worlds she has a good shot. Similarly assuming China qualifies a team and Korea qualifies 3 gymnasts through 2023 Worlds (both likely) then she's at the moment the most likely individual qualifier out of the 2024 Asian championships if she doesn't qualify at Worlds. But there is a big if. She got an 9.833 beam score at Worlds last year....

ROOSKRANTZ Caitlin (RSA) - 50.632. She came in second to Nemour at African champs, so assuming that Nemour will likely qualify in some way at Worlds then Roozkrantz has a good shot at qualifying through 2024 African champs if she doesn't do so at Worlds.

FINNEGAN Aleah (PHI) - 50.399. She should qualify at worlds, especially if she manages not to fall twice on bars like she did at Asian champs. I honestly think a lot will depend on what rotation she has to go to bars because I suspect a lot of the issues the Philippines had at Asian champs related to going to bars in the 4th rotation. If she doesn't qualify at Worlds she has a decent shot at the 2024 Asian Champs but I honestly expect her to get this done at Worlds.

BARROS Sydney (PUR) - 50.234. She also falls in the sweet spot of maybe she qualifies at Worlds maybe she just misses. She'll get a second shot at Pan Am Games a month later if she misses out.

ABDELSALAM Jana (EGY) - 49.832. She came in third at African Champs but we start getting in the iffy range for scores to qualify and there are on paper better AAers in her continental union.

DARIES Naveen (RSA) - 49.533. A repeat of what I said about Abdelsalam. She's in the cut off range but she has the disadvantage of being the likely second South African AAer so her best chance is if Nemour and Rooskrantz qualify at Worlds and then she has a good shot to fight out that 2024 African champs slot.

KVAMME Kylee Ann (PHI) - 48.765. She's not qualifying at worlds because even if she falls in the right range (and her score doesn't suggest she will) then Finnegan will 1 per country her out of the pool. She also has no chance of qualifying at 2024 Asian Champs as there are many Asian gymnasts from small feds that are better AAers. Yes she fell on bars but she just does not have the difficulty to be competitive.

BROWN Lynnzee (HAI) - 48.100. I'm going to be honest... she's going to have a tough road. She needs more difficulty to be in contention at Worlds or at the PAG. There are a number of small fed AAers in the Pan American union who scored higher than her at Pan Am Champs.

ELSADEK Sandra (EGY) - 46.699. She has no chance of qualifying for the Olympics. I hope she enjoys her Worlds experience.

MALABUYO Emma Lauren (PHI). She didn't do the AA at Asian champs so can't go to worlds but I've seen people ask about her. Her path to the Olympics is limited. She can win the AA at Asian Champs... but when was the last time she did the AA? She can also get a spot at the 2024 World Cups and I actually think she could increase the difficulty on her floor to be an outside shot there. The problem is ... will the Philippines pay to send her (and the judge) to those world cups. And will she want to miss 6 weeks of the NCAA season to do so?

If I was to take a stab in the dark I suspect that Korea, Hungary, and Mexico will all have 3 gymnasts at the Olympics and that Romania will have at least 2. But in what configurations I don't know.

#gymnastics

[kilfeur]

Donc je pense que la chose dont personne ne s'y attendait c'est de rencontrer le vrai professeur Turum et non son IA. D'ailleurs d'après ces dialogues, il ne l'a pas encore inventé. On pose des question sur ce qu'il est et sa famille. Et il a déjà Pepper dans sa temporalité, d'après les dialogues je pensais qu'il était le professeur Turum d'une autre ligne temporelle et que du coup j'ai modifié un peu son futur en lui donnant le livre blanc mais aussi le fait qu'il aille voir son fils. Et de plus, il avait l'air gentil, je m'y attendais pas je pensais qu'il serait un peu froid. Car quand j'ai dit que Miraidon comptait beaucoup pour moi. Il répond que les sentiments ne font pas partie de ses recherches mais s'excuse pour sa réponse. Surtout qu'il parle de rentrer à la maison pour lire le livre blanc à son fils. Sauf qu'en lisant les notes dans l'Antre Zéro, il semblerait que c'est bel et bien notre Turum et non celui d'une autre ligne temporelle.

Du coup je comprenais plus rien, j'en ai parlé avec mon ami sur Discord. Et il m'a dit qu'en fait il était dans une boucle temporelle ! En gros Turum était dans le passé puis s'est retrouvé transporté dans le futur et nous a rencontré et en donnant le livre blanc, livre blanc qui lui a permit d'étudier la téracristallisation. On ne sait pas quel âge à Pepper dans son passé, mais à ce moment il doit être un gosse. Donc il y a des chances que le livre qu'on a donné, a finit par le rendre obsessionnel sur ses recherches dans le voyage dans le temps. Car il voulait créer un paradis pour sa famille ! Sans compter qu'on aurait pu lui donner l'idée de l'IA. Car quand on le rencontre, il suggère que ce serait pas une si mauvaise idée.

Dans ce cas est ce que c'est une incohérence dans l'histoire principale ? Je pense pas pour activer la machine à voyager dans le temps, on avait besoin du livre violet. Livre qu'on avait acquis pendant notre aventure et qu'au final IA Turum finit par prendre quand il s'en va dans le futur. Sauf que vu que ces évènements sont déjà passés, on se retrouve avec le livre violet que Turum avait à l'époque.

So I think the thing nobody expected was to meet the real Professor Turo and not his AI. Besides, according to these dialogues, he hasn't invented it yet. We ask questions about who he is and his family. And he's already got Pepper in his timeline. From the dialogues, I thought he was Professor Turo from another timeline, so I modified his future a little by giving him the white book, but also the fact that he's going to see his son. What's more, he seemed nice, I wasn't expecting that, I thought he'd be a bit cold. Because when I said that Miraidon meant a lot to me. He replies that feelings are not his concern, but apologizes for his answer. Especially since he's talking about going home to read the white book with his son. Except that, reading the notes in the Zero Den, it seems that he's our Turo and not one from another timeline.

I couldn't figure it out, so I talked to my friend about it on Discord. And he told me that he was actually in a time loop! Basically, Turum was in the past and then found himself transported into the future, into our present. And that's how we met and gave him the white book, the white book that helped him study teracrystallization. We don't know how old Arven is in his past, but at this point he must be a kid. So chances are, the book we gave him ended up making him obsessive about his time-travel research. Because he wanted to create a paradise for his family! Not to mention giving him the idea of AI. Because when we meet him, he suggests it might not be such a bad idea.

In that case, is it an incoherence in the main story? I don't think so. To activate the time machine, we needed the purple book. The book we'd acquired during our adventure and which, in the end, IA Turo ends up taking when he goes off into the future. But since these events have already taken place, we're left with the purple book Turo had at the time.

#pokemon #pokemon sv #professor turo #ai turo #miraidon

[chthonicgodling]

(April’s)Huevember - Day 27!

featuring:

1. Chal, [Thanatos’ son] & Thanatos

2. Chal, [Tory’s daughter]— & HER daughter, Enodia

a BEFORE AND AFTER SET—

OKAY FINE ONE ANGST HUEVEMBER POST ALLOWED??!! BAWLS???? mauve-pink Huevember day where BOTH OF THESE DRAWINGS KILLED ME IN VERY DIFFERENT WAYS— AAHHH NOTES-

sobbing bc when tryin to decide who to draw for this pic I was like. hmm. well. the cloak Chal used to wear when she was supervillaining with Thanatos is this exact color— ohHhHH NO—

and then after I drew that first one gasped and realized that baby N is?!?! also the same color and?!!!!! oh my god oH MY GOD????

I can only assume we all know Chal’s shtick as she’s my favie and she’s all over here but. if somehow you do Not Chal’s history before her extremely in depth rehabilitation into the Elysium cast, who she is today, is that she was Thanatos’ kid (his “son”, at the time, as Chal didn’t realize she was a girl until. like. 3 years ago) — trained to follow in his footsteps as next supervillain of Elysium, though Thanatos was barely kind to her either -

until Elysium caught her first and broke the brainwashing she’d grown up cowering under 🥺 she’s in a much better place now - the second drawing - firstly adopted by Designated Palace Parent ™ Tory (and Maci, tho her relationship with Chal is complicated and weird in a. good way lmfao?? Maci’s like. weird mentor-den mother to Chal ffkfkf ) -

secondly now she’s also of course MARRIED to Bel and THIRDLY also of couursseeee undoing the nightmare of her parental trauma by parenting HER very own baby, Enodia “N” who. now has the best mommie of all time. I love drawing Chal’s rare little smiles they’re :’))) mostly around N aAH. AND yes this is yet another Wing Curl Cuddle pic!!

in conclusion: sobbing. sobbing. sobbing. I love Chal so much. HOLDS HER,,, flipping back and forth between these thinking of how far she’s come and just, SOBSSSS—

wiping tears from my eyes to proclaim stay tuned tomorrow! GOSH GEE I WONDER WHO NEON PINK DAY WILL BE TAKE A WIIIIILD GUESS 🔥 click the link up above to see the whole Huevember wheel - feel free to use the tag AceprilHuevember if u want to play too - and my tag this year can be found here!!

#Huevember #aceprilhuevember #AceprilHuevember 2023 #Huevember 2023 #huevember2023 #my art #SCREEEEEEEEEAMS #long post /

[kutlumesut]

🌠"Birine karşı duygusal Bağınızı Kaybettiğinizde ON un Ne kadar Sıradan OL duğunu ÂN L arsınız.

-İNsaN L arın bu kadar Özel görünmesini sağlayan şey Sizin Sevginiz Ve Enerjiniz dir. Başka Bir şey değil. . !♥️

🌠"Dost Sanma Şanlı Vaktinde Dost OL anı

Dost BİL Gamlı Vaktinde Elinden tutanı🌹

Hz. Mevlânâm🌹

🌠"Bazen Kanıtlayamasak BİL e Gerçeği BİL iriz...🧡

"Kaldırın Başınızı.

Sevda BEL den yukarıda.!🌹💞🧡

[thepmmmwitchproject]

Manga Witches: Part Seven (Last part... for now!)

Here's the seventh part of the nameless manga witch series! This is the second half of witches that showed up in the climax battle of Tart Magica! This'll be the final part, though if anyone knows of any other unnamed witches that could be discussed, do comment below!!!

All of these witches were done alongside @honestlyboringperson!

I'll start off with Cochineal, the snail witch with a repulsed nature, it spends its days in the mirror, insulting the reflection in it. It detests its slimy visage, so it orders its familiar to tear off its skin, knowing that their true beauty is on the inside. The witch cannot feel pain, and powerful regeneration, making the familiars' duties pretty much pointless. As with any other snail, the best method to beat this witch is salt. Once the witch has dissolved, all that left will be a mysteriously beautiful skeleton.

Phiphi, the witch of tentacles with a searching nature, this witch lacks any sense aside from touch, so it wanders around, wriggling itself on everything. It's surprisingly passive for a witch… typically. If provoked, it will attack like any other, unfortunately, due to lack of sight, it may instead go against one of its own guiding familiars. This witch is looking for something she lost that only it knows, not even the familiars know what it is. Whether it be a lost sock, or a dear partner, it won't stop stumbling around until it can be found. The next witch discusses slight themes of sexual trauma, so warning beforehand.

Kore, the witch of lace, with a sullied nature. A witch whose surprisingly innocent for her size, she searches for a sweet love that can fit her standards, but all her familiars due is chase her around in a vicious manner, she then wallows in horror in her den until the next day, denying the last day's events with her beaming innocence.

Horloge, the clock witch. Her nature is awaiting. A witch who hopes she can stop being a magical girl since that caused her a lot of pain and brought a lot of despair to her days. Even though she's a witch, she still thinks she's a magical girl. Tick tock tick tock, her clock chimes like this and she awaits for a moment that will never come and she will continue to think that she is a magical girl, unless she is annihilated at this very moment. Apart from awaiting, if a magical girl is found, she will use the sharp needles that protrude from her body to kill said magical girl and give her a painless death, but only to later feel envy since is dead and she is not. This witch was written by @shitposterxdxdxd rather than me or @honestlyboringperson.

Fovea, the oculus witch. Its nature is falling in love at first sight. It can't help but fall in love with anything it see, it holds on to those it loves with its dreadfully tight appendages then it gets sad over its death of suffocation, and does it all over again.

William le Bel, the heraldry witch with a misleading witch. This witch has a strong and prideful outwards appearance, but in actuality is a tame coward. It worries day in and day in out over disappointing their forefathers. Despite its fearfulness, it's still quite strong with the powers it has inherited, so it's better for you to ease the witch's troubles and let it move on peacefully rather than taking it down like other witches.

Vassilyev, the hut witch with a with a cozy nature. She feeds visitors with soup and bread that little does she know is rotten to the core, and she warms their souls with blankets she lovingly knits, but they are heavy enough to crush them flat. She once was a warm house filled with memories but now she is empty, gathering dust, unaware of the suffering she causes to guests. She is devastated when her guests die and will not stop mourning them until a new victim arrive, she'll forget what she was even crying in the first place.

1889, the gramophone witch with a reminiscing nature. This witch is nostalgic of its past, though for this witch in this time period, the past for them is the future, for they were once a person who wished to explore time, and ended up in the wrong place in the right time. The witch plays ragtime music that causes victims to erupt into a dancing disease. The lore behind this last witch is that rather than being a meguca who resides in medieval France, it was a girl who time traveled from the late nineteenth century and ended up transported to the battlefield by Minou before being forced into becoming a witch, making end up in the wrong place in the wrong time. The name, 1889, comes from the year the girl traveled from.

#obscure witches #witch #madoka magica #tart magica #collab #cochineal #snail #phiphi #tentacle #kore #lace #fovea #oculus #vassilyev #hut #horloge #clock #william le bel #heraldry #1889 #gramophone

[jackhkeynes]

The Good Game

notes in translation on the subject of the Good Game period (ca. 1865–94).

Durant l'oc epoc sceyen y stabliscment d'alleyanç-federaç plusour volent tandem y traitment mondial tras y siecr veintem descreir, tal com y Collujon Drengoçan n'Europ norðovester (y crescenç den closisceu d'an 1894 posc l'accession d'Istr Boral). This period sees the establishment of several alliance-federacies that would go on to define the geopolitics of the twentieth century, such as the Drengot Collusion in north-western Europe (whose expansion concluded in 1894 with the accession of Borland).

Y parceuçon dell'epoc Bel-Jou com un asc ant spionnaç opulent e pisment conjuraçonal cas politic sou teneur covart no's cos enter dignað—se poð comparaçon fair entr y parceuçon pouvlancer (par meyan de livr e lasc) dell'affer Desarden d'an 1887 un ambasctour Londresc eð y rey a Naccon Day envount contr y realtað cojannessem. The perception of the Good Game period as a time of glamorous espionage and political machinations behind closed doors is not entirely deserved—compare the popular perception (via books and film) of the 1887 Desarden affair involving a London ambassador and the king of Nackon Day with the tawdrier reality.

Nentamen, l'epoc a se reitfeyað com jagat celebr por romanç a spionnaç eð a masquira. Nevertheless, the period has cemented itself as a popular setting for spycraft and masquira stories.

#conlang #boral #conlanging #boralverse #conworld #alternate history #translation

[milagrodelosangeles]

Tiempo de luz: del 30 de abril (Beltain o Beltane) al 30 de julio (Lughnasadh o Lammas)

El solsticio de verano, esto es, el día mas largo del año, es a mediado de este período, sobre el 21 de junio. En Lughnasadh, el dios del grano se sacrificaba simbólicamente en el último haz o grano cortado, de modo que las semillas pudieran ser esparcidas para el crecimiento. Con el grano del último haz se cocía un pan para simbolizar la abundancia.

Los asuntos relacionados con la gente joven, el amor y las amistades se verán especialmente favorecidos, al igual que los temas de salud. Es un período en el que aumentarán las oportunidades existentes.

Beltane o Beltain se extiende desde la puesta de sol del 30 de abril hasta la puesta de sol del 2 de mayo y es la segunda gran fiesta o sabbat del año. Su nombre se debe a la Bealtaine irlandesa, que significa "fuego de Bel", el fuego del dios celta de la luz, conocido con el nombre de Bel, Beli o Belinus. En la noche del primero de mayo, se celebra la llegada del viejo verano y el florecimiento de la vida. La diosa se manifiesta como la reina de mayo y como Flora, diosa de las flores, cuya festividad se celebraba en la antigua Roma a principios de mayo.

La puesta de sol del primero de mayo era la señal para que los druidas encendieran los fuegos de Bel hechos con nueve tipos diferentes de madera. Lo hacían girando un palo de roble en un agujero hecho sobre una pieza de roble en la cima de la colina más cercana. A medida que el tiempo pasaba, todos los pueblos tenían sus fuegos de Beltane, a los que se atribuye fertilidad y poderes curativos.

Las parejas jóvenes saltaban por encima de los fuegos de Beltane, corrían entre ellos y bailaban moviéndose en el sentido de las agujas del reloj. El ganado, liberado de los establos después del largo invierno, era guiado entre los fuegos para despojarlos de toda enfermedad y para asegurar la continuación de la fertilidad y la producción de leche suficiente para los próximos meses.

Así pues, Beltane es un festival adecuado para la magia de la fertilidad, tanto para concebir un hijo como para que temas financieros o de negocios den su fruto, para las mejoras de salud y para el aumento de la energía cuando la luz y el calor se acercan al verano.

Como foco de la fiesta, recogemos plantas frescas, especialmente espino (éste se introducirá en la casa solamente el primero de mayo) y flores típicas de la región, y los colocamos en cestas.

Encendemos velas verdes, escarlata y plateadas y usamos citrinas brillantes, cristales de cuarzo transparente, ojos de tigre dorados, ámbares y topacios.

Entre los inciensos y hierbas adecuados para Beltane cabe destacar la almendra, la angélica, el fresno, la primavera, el incienso puro, el espino, la lila, la caléndula y las rosas.

#astrología y magia #beltaine #beltane