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readychilledwine · 1 year ago

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Small World Pt 2

Summary - After discovering you and Azriel share much more than a mating bond, your relationship grows stronger as tensions between you and your aunt seem to grow higher.

Warnings - implied emotional and mental abuse, second child syndrome in a not good way, we find out Nyx is an asshole, unrequited love, slight smut, use of daddy

A/n - a potentially cliff hanger ending because I haven't decided 100% how this ends

Peep Part 1 Here 💙

Azriel stared at the dress box sitting on Rhysand's desk and nicely folded Illyrian leathers. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn them. The last time he had used a siphon. The leathers were fitted for 7, something Azriel immediately knew would no longer work.

His powers after removing the precious stones had gone wild. His shadows were different now. They were more aware, able to span wider distances, and able to recruit more shadows into his network to join them.

He had spent 5 years alone meditating and learning even more control over them, over what they could do, over how deadly they actually could be.

7 siphons would not be enough.

And he didn't understand how Rhysand did not see that.

He finally spoke, gesturing to the box. "What is this?"

Rhys was settled in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as Cassian stood near the bookshelf to mediate if needed. "We're going to the Court of Nightmares. My daughter's engagement has spread like wildfire, and dear Keir wants to host a party in her honor."

A breathy chuckle left Azriel's lips before he could stop it. "So my fiancée will be dressed like a goddess while I am in leathers at a party to mock us?"

Cassian shifted slightly. "We've always worn leathers to Hewn City, Az. It's to honor our heritage." Rhys just inclined his head to Cassian and nodded. "Y/n wears leathers."

"She has never worn a single set in the 2 years we've been together. There isn't even a set in her closet."

"There's several sets in her closet here," Rhys said quietly. "All set up for pink siphons. 14 of them." Cassian and Azriel couldn't help their chuckles. "Imagine a blonde Illyrian with pink siphons, Azriel, its quite the sight." Rhys smiled fondly, eyes glimmering with pride despite everything. "She's-" he looked up, searching for the perfect word for his daughter. "She's my everything. And I've done a horrible job showing her that."

Azriel sucked in a deep breath. "I won't mediate this, Rhys. This is a you two thing. Not an us three thing."

Azriel knew now why you were estranged from your family. Nyx was their golden child. Constantly praised, admired, in the spotlight. He was, and still is, their reminder of how they had almost died to pass along their love. He could do no wrong, never be wrong, and was treated as such.

You, on the other hand, were the second child. The significantly younger one Nyx learned to plant blame on and watch as you were scolded and seen as "the problem" as you had told him you were now addressed as in Hewn City and Illyria. You had been raised by Ness more than Feyre and Rhys, passed off to them until your powers bloomed at 16, and suddenly your father found you interesting again. With a lack of a spymaster, he exploited you, forcing you to touch people and feel their emotions, when they lied, their stories. Forcing you to live trauma over and over of females clipped in the mountains, of tortured traitors in dungeons, of Nesta's dark phase.

You locked your powers so far away one day, so deep inside you that even you hardly could access them unless you actually wanted to. It had been just before your 18th birthday that happened. And then the fight that sealed the casket happened. Rhys had verbally lashed you. Attacked you for refusing to let him use your "one worth" to keeping his family and court safe.

Your father had said he saw you as useless, and everyone else just stood by watching.

Like they had with Nesta.

Only you were just a child. Not a head strong warrior, a goddess in fae form.

You packed the basics and spent the night on the streets in a dark alley.

Even if you and Rhys magically fixed things, even if you forgave but not forgot, Azriel would never. How you were raised, how you've been treated, it forever will taint his vision of Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx. The abuse they unleashed on you, they'd never make up for.

Rhys nodded, eyes glancing to the doorway as footsteps approached. "I would never ask you to fix my relationship with her when I need to fix my relationship with you as well. I just need you to know I love her. That she will always be my girl."

"You have an odd way of showing her your lo-"

The door opened, and you stepped in, immediately going to Azriel's side and eyeing the box. "Dad. Cassian." You opened the lid and nodded. "Well. At least it's sparkly."

Rhys cocked his head. "You don't like it?"

Azriel watched as you paused. The bond flared with conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, longing. How long had it been since Rhys held you? Since he told you he loved you without you having to earn it. "No, I like it. I just know what this means. You never give me nice things unless Hewn City is involved." The last sentence trailed off quietly, and pain flooded the bond.

Rhys looked down, nodding as he scratched the stubble growing on his face. "I am sorry. I just-"

"Please don't. You never mean it." You grabbed the box. "I will wear it and find jewelry." You turned to Azriel. "Elain would like to speak with you. She said something about a garden you two planned together and how I'll never understand the love you two share. How it breaks bonds and shakes worlds."

The relationship between you and Azriel had been messy since dinner two weeks ago. You two had your first fight over, of course, Elain and her rekindled love, lust, whichever felt appropriate at the moment for Azriel. He ignored the constant letters, the random headache powders, the message coded flowers.

He had reached out to Lucien, asking the male what had happened. According to the new Lord of Day, Elain and he had tried for 5 years, but the damage had been done. Lucien didn't trust Elain, Elain spent most of their time comparing the two of them, and nothing Lucien gave her was enough. He had been the one to reject the bond, and after 7 years, he had found himself heavily involved in a relationship with a now fully fae Vassa and Jurian.

Rhys and Cassian both gave him gentle looks of concern as he held your hand, preventing you from walking away. He stared Rhys in the eyes, doing something he felt Rhysand had never done to prove a point. "I'd rather go home with you, so if you were planning on winnowing, we might as well go together." He picked you.

They watched as all tension left your body, as security eased into your face. "Then let's go home." Azriel grabbed the leathers, nodding to Rhys and Cassian before following you.

Azriel's elbow locked around your neck, hand squeezing your hip as he pinned you below him and continued taking you from behind. You both had no interest in heading to Hewn City, so you had distracted him, walking into your shared bedroom in just a pretty blue silk night gown offering to give your body to him for what he had done, the message he had sent.

You were supposed to be getting ready, but instead, Azriel was growling above you, pumping into you carelessly. Your toes curled at how deep he was hitting, at how good he felt, how good he felt every time. "So close," you whispered. "So fucking close-" You were moaning his name when the knock on the door came.

A shadow rushed to him, curling his ear as he paused. "It's Elain," he muttered. "She's relentless." You whined below him, hips wiggling to get friction back. "Baby,"

"Please," you begged. "It's been weeks, I've been so good, please, daddy."

Azriel felt his cock twitch at the use of the name. He'd longed for a moment to erase the memory of what happened, and you had just given it to him. He felt you moving your hips, doing the best you could while pinned to the mattress to fuck yourself on his cock.

You were his focus, the rest of the world melting away as he heard your moans turning into screams of his name. You sounded so pretty coming for him, crying for him, begging for more for less for everything as oversensitivity took over. You especially looked pretty dripping his seed when he pulled out of you. Once again, he had chosen you.

You two laid there, holding each other until claws came for both of you. Scratching angerly as your mental shields and causing you to bury your head into Azriel's chest. "We need to get ready unless you want him showing up here next," Azriel played with your hair, scratching your scalp lightly. "Let's see how many siphons I blow through."

After 2 sets of siphons being destroyed, you were currently dragging Azriel down the streets of Velaris and to your brother and father's tailor. You knew she'd be able to fit and dress him in seconds and that he'd look every bit handsome as he deserved. You were pissed when you saw he had been gifted Illyrian leathers and not a suit. Your father was out of touch with Azriel. With you.

"Helena," you smiled at the older female. "We need help."

Azriel felt stiff. Staring at the doors of Heen City as a shocked page boy ran to inform Rhys and Feyre of the late arrival. You two were about to upstage them in their own court. The guests of honor arriving late and being introduced after the Lord and his Lady.

You would have upstaged them by yourself anyway, though. Azriel admired you one more time. Rhys had picked well, though you both would never admit it. The dress had a see-through bodice of black lace and floral applicates with thin straps. It led to a satin skirt that was tight and then flared out to your hips. The left leg had a high slit, showing the toned beautiful skin Azriel was begging to cover in his kisses. You had picked a simple necklace, a single tear drop shaped sapphire with matching earring and a matching bracelet. Your ring sat on manicured nails painted a soft shade of pink to white coffin head tips. Heels graced your feet, the red underside flashing when you walked. "Gods, you are stunning," he finally whispered out in a hoarse voice.

"And all yours," you looked at him, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. "Forever." Your mask slipped on as the doors opened, a collective gasp ringing through the room over who was on your arm followed by whispers.

Azriel knew this song and dance, walking you into one thousand eyes staring and gawking. He hated seeing you like this as you were ushered to the dance floor. The first dance of the night had been delayed, and the fae were restless.

Once you were centered on the floor, you turned facing him, eyes cold and distant as you disassociated from this place. He placed a hand on your hip, leaving his other to his side where both of your sat.

It was unfair of Feyre and Rhysand to expect you to do this traditional waltz, but you followed Azriel's steps as the music began, that first note echoing in your bones and soul. Your parents had claimed your first dance with your mate. The first true dance you two would ever share, and it had to be done in front of hundreds of fae who spat your direction when the Lord and Lady were busy.

Azriel had decided he hated this side of you. He was studying you like a project. You were a different female down here. Cold, uncaring, forced into this role of the High Lord's daughter.

Did these fae know you took far too much creamer in your coffee?

That you were afraid of storms?

That you only ate fruit pastries because you found chocolate too bitter?

You were Rhysand through and through with that mask on. But inside, inside Azriel knew you carried the very light of what your grandfather built. You were a true dreamer, and you could rattle the very stars themselves if your father would just give you the chance.

If Rhysand would just believe in you.

Azriel decided in that moment what the answer to your happiness was. He'd take you tonight and you two would leave.

Fuck expectations.

Fuck the rules.

Fuck your family.

Azriel would pick you for the third time today, and you two would leave.

He just had to get you through this visit at Hewn City first, and as he watched Elain shatter a champagne flute in her hands, he knew that was going to be a mission all on its own.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish

Azriel-

@elle4404

Small World Taglist-

@amara-moonlight @iimichie @acourtofbatboydreams @justasillylittlegoofyguy @janesalvarerelochanarcheron @hungryforbatboys @sidthedollface2 @hunt1bryce

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x feysands daughter!reader #az x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster

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apod · 4 days ago

Photo

2025 May 14

NGC 1360: The Robin's Egg Nebula Image Credit & Copyright: Andrea Iorio, Vikas Chander & ShaRA Team

Explanation: This pretty nebula lies some 1,500 light-years away, its shape and color in this telescopic view reminiscent of a robin's egg. The cosmic cloud spans about 3 light-years, nestled securely within the boundaries of the southern constellation of the Furnace (Fornax). Recognized as a planetary nebula, egg-shaped NGC 1360 doesn't represent a beginning, though. Instead, it corresponds to a brief and final phase in the evolution of an aging star. In fact, visible at the center of the nebula, the central star of NGC 1360 is known to be a binary star system likely consisting of two evolved white dwarf stars, less massive but much hotter than the Sun. Their intense and otherwise invisible ultraviolet radiation has stripped away electrons from the atoms in their mutually surrounding gaseous shroud. The blue-green hue inside of NGC 1360 seen here is the strong emission produced as electrons recombine with doubly ionized oxygen atoms.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap250514.html

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novaursa · 8 months ago

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I love your writing! Could you please do one where Targaryen reader (it can be Rhaenyra's sister) is taking Gwayne for the first time to meet her dragon and takes him for a ride. Thanks

The Wild Heart

- Summary: You introduce Gwayne to your dragon, Grey Ghost.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: The reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra and bonded to the dragon Grey Ghost. I've broken my own rule about 1000 words here, but since you guys like Gwayne so much, I've decided to expand this a bit more. Enjoy.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

You stand on the edge of the ridge, the sea breeze tangling itself in your silver-blonde hair, lifting strands into the crisp, salt-filled air. Below, the waters of Blackwater Bay shimmer like molten silver, catching the light of the setting sun. Behind you, the Red Keep is barely visible, a hulking shadow against the vast sky. But it's not the castle that holds your attention today—it’s the man beside you, Gwayne Hightower, and the dragon that waits in the distance, somewhere between the clouds and the sea, hidden in the wilderness just beyond the Dragonpit.

He stands close, his expression serious, but you can feel the underlying excitement radiating from him. Gwayne has heard the tales, the whispered stories of your dragon, Grey Ghost—wild, elusive, temperamental. Unlike the dragons housed in the Dragonpit, Grey Ghost has never truly been tamed. He lingers along the coast and cliffs, only returning when he chooses. Not a single rider before you had ever claimed him, not until you.

You glance at Gwayne, studying his face as the wind picks up. His strong jaw is set in a determined line, and his eyes, a bright shade of blue, seem darker in the fading light. He’s dressed in his Hightower armor, though you both know he’s not here for battle. The armor is more a shield for his nerves, a thin veil of control in the face of what’s to come.

"Are you ready?" you ask, your voice quiet but firm, just loud enough to be heard over the gusts of wind.

Gwayne turns to you, and for a moment, a flicker of something—perhaps doubt, or wonder—passes across his face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a faint, teasing smile. "As ready as a man can be to meet his future wife's dragon," he replies, the words tinged with amusement, though there’s a touch of nervousness there too.

You smile at that, a small curl of your lips. "Grey Ghost isn’t like the others in the pit. He won’t simply obey because I will it. He’s… unpredictable." You let the words hang in the air for a moment, hoping to prepare him for what’s coming. "But he’ll listen to me. Trust that."

Gwayne nods, though you can sense the weight of his uncertainty. He’s seen dragons before, of course. As a member of House Hightower, he’s familiar with their majesty and their danger. But this is different. This is your dragon, your bond. And Grey Ghost is no mere dragon of the pit. He is wild fire made flesh, with wings of smoke and ash.

You take a step forward, motioning for him to follow as you descend the rocky path that leads to the clearing below. Your boots crunch against the stones, the sea below crashing against the cliffs. Gwayne is right behind you, silent now, his presence a steady warmth at your back. Together, you approach the place where you know Grey Ghost waits.

As you round a bend in the path, the clearing opens up before you, vast and wild, with tall grasses swaying in the breeze. And there, at the far end, resting in the shadow of a massive stone outcrop, lies Grey Ghost.

Even from this distance, the size of him is breathtaking. His scales, a smoky grey that gleam faintly in the dying light, seem to blend with the rocks around him, making him appear almost ethereal, as though he’s part of the landscape itself. His wings are folded close to his body, but you know their full span would darken the sky if he chose to spread them wide.

Gwayne inhales sharply, and you feel his awe as though it were your own.

"Gods," he murmurs, almost under his breath, as he gazes upon the beast.

You step closer, your heart quickening with the familiar pull of your bond. Grey Ghost stirs, his massive head lifting as he senses your approach. His eyes, burning like molten gold, lock onto yours. There’s recognition there, an unspoken understanding, but also a warning—a reminder of his wild nature.

You stop a few feet from him and extend a hand, palm up, in a gesture of peace. "Come forth." You speak in the High Valyrian tongue, your voice steady, commanding.

Grey Ghost watches you for a moment longer, then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he rises to his feet. His wings unfurl slightly, the leather-like membranes rustling in the wind as he stretches his neck toward you. There’s a rumble deep in his throat, a sound that vibrates through the ground beneath your feet. But he does as you bid, moving forward with a grace that belies his size.

Gwayne stands frozen at your side, his breath caught in his throat, though his hand instinctively moves to the hilt of his sword—a gesture of protection more than aggression. You place a calming hand on his arm, shaking your head gently.

"He won’t harm you," you whisper, though you’re not entirely sure if you’re saying it to reassure him or yourself. "Not if I’m here."

With slow, deliberate movements, you step closer to Grey Ghost, your fingers brushing against the rough texture of his scales. He is warm beneath your touch, like the heat of a roaring fire contained within his massive frame. Grey Ghost’s eyes never leave you, and for a moment, there’s a connection, a silent exchange of trust and respect.

Turning back to Gwayne, you gesture for him to come closer. "It’s alright," you say softly. "He knows me. And now, he must know you."

Gwayne hesitates, his hand still hovering near his sword, but after a brief moment of consideration, he takes a step forward. His gaze never leaves Grey Ghost’s hulking form, his caution palpable. Slowly, almost reverently, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against the dragon’s side, just as yours had moments before.

The air between the three of you seems to still, the wind dying down as though the world itself is holding its breath. Grey Ghost rumbles again, a low, deep sound that resonates through the ground, but he doesn’t move. He allows the touch.

Gwayne exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he keeps his hand on the dragon’s scales. "He’s… magnificent," Gwayne says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve never seen anything like him."

You smile softly, feeling a swell of pride for both your dragon and for the man standing beside you. "He is," you agree, your voice filled with warmth. "And now, he knows you. We are bonded, all three of us."

Gwayne turns to you then, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the world around you seems to fade away—the cliffs, the sea, even the dragon. It’s just the two of you, standing on the precipice of something new, something shared.

"I never thought…" he begins, his voice trailing off as he searches for the right words. "I never thought I could be part of something like this. With you, and with him."

You step closer to him, your hand finding his, your fingers intertwining. "You are," you say softly, your voice full of certainty. "We’re a family now, Gwayne. You, me, and Grey Ghost. Nothing will come between us."

The wind whips around you as you stand before Grey Ghost, the great dragon looming like a mountain of muscle and smoke. His golden eyes, burning with an otherworldly light, follow your movements as you step back, placing yourself beside Gwayne. The sun has set below the horizon now, leaving the world bathed in twilight, and the only sounds are the crashing of the waves far below the cliffs and the steady, rhythmic breathing of the dragon.

Gwayne stands beside you, his hand still resting on the dragon’s rough scales. His expression, a mixture of awe and anticipation, is hard to miss. He’s faced battle, seen the dangers of war, but this—this is something entirely different. You can sense the excitement beneath his calm demeanor, the way his hand trembles ever so slightly as he brushes his fingers against Grey Ghost's side.

"You’ve never flown before," you say quietly, watching him as his eyes trace the dragon's form.

He turns his gaze to you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile. "No. Never." His tone is light, but there’s a seriousness beneath it, a readiness that makes your pulse quicken.

Grey Ghost shifts his weight, the massive bulk of his body rumbling like distant thunder as he crouches low, the leathery membranes of his wings unfolding slightly. He is waiting, waiting for your command, and though you feel his wildness, his untamed spirit, you know that in this moment, he will listen to you.

You take Gwayne’s hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. "Do you trust me?" you ask, though you already know his answer.

He doesn’t hesitate. "Always," he replies, his voice steady, his eyes locked on yours.

You squeeze his hand gently, then release it as you step toward Grey Ghost. With practiced ease, you place one hand on the dragon's flank, the other gripping the harness that’s fastened around his neck and shoulders. You swing yourself up onto his back, settling into the familiar place between his powerful wings. The leather beneath you is warm, and you can feel the rise and fall of his breathing beneath your legs.

You look down at Gwayne, who is still standing at the dragon’s side, his expression now unreadable.

"Come," you say, holding out your hand to him. "You won’t fall. I promise."

For a moment, he hesitates, glancing from you to Grey Ghost’s immense, heaving body. But then, with a nod of determination, he steps forward, gripping the harness as you had shown him. With a bit of effort, he hoists himself up behind you, his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist as he settles into place.

You can feel the tension in his body, the uncertainty of being so high above the ground, but there is also trust—trust in you, trust in the dragon.

You glance back at him, offering a reassuring smile. "Hold on tightly. The first flight is always… exhilarating."

Before he can respond, you lean forward and place your hands against Grey Ghost’s neck. "Fly!" you command in High Valyrian.

With a roar that shakes the ground beneath you, Grey Ghost unfurls his wings, the massive span of them catching the wind in a sudden, powerful gust. The muscles beneath you ripple as the dragon gathers his strength, and then, with a single, mighty leap, you are airborne.

The world falls away beneath you, the cliffs and sea nothing but distant shapes as Grey Ghost ascends, his wings beating with a rhythm that you can feel deep in your chest. The wind tears at your hair and clothes, the rush of air so loud it drowns out all other sound, but you don’t mind. This—this is freedom, the sky opening up before you, endless and vast.

Behind you, Gwayne holds on tightly, his arms firm around your waist. You can feel his heart pounding against your back, the thrill of the flight coursing through him as it does through you. The dragon rises higher, soaring above the clouds, and for a moment, you are suspended in the sky, weightless and free.

Grey Ghost lets out a triumphant roar, a sound that echoes across the sky, and you laugh, the exhilaration of the moment filling you with joy. You glance back at Gwayne, his face flushed from the wind, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Are you alright?" you shout over the wind, your voice barely carrying in the rushing air.

He grins, a wide, genuine smile that lights up his entire face. "This is incredible!" he calls back, his voice filled with awe and exhilaration. "I never imagined…"

His words trail off as Grey Ghost dips suddenly, his wings folding slightly as he begins a rapid descent, plummeting toward the sea below. You feel Gwayne’s grip tighten around you, his breath catching in his throat, but you don’t panic. You know Grey Ghost, know his every move, and this—this is part of the ride.

At the last moment, just before you reach the surface of the water, Grey Ghost flares his wings, catching the air and leveling out. The sea stretches out beneath you, the waves glistening in the moonlight, so close you can almost touch them. The dragon skims the surface, his claws barely grazing the water, sending up sprays of mist as you fly.

You laugh again, the sound of it lost to the wind, and Gwayne’s laughter soon joins yours. His tension is gone now, replaced by the sheer thrill of the flight. He leans into the movement, trusting you, trusting the dragon, and for a moment, it feels like the three of you are one—a single being soaring through the sky, untethered and wild.

After what feels like an eternity—and yet, not nearly long enough—Grey Ghost begins to climb again, his powerful wings lifting you up, up, up, until you are soaring high above the sea once more. The land is a distant memory now, the world below nothing but a blur of blue and grey.

You turn your head slightly, glancing back at Gwayne, who is still grinning, his eyes alight with excitement. "This is only the beginning," you say, your voice soft, though you know he can hear you over the wind.

He meets your gaze, his expression suddenly serious, though the joy still lingers in his eyes. "I’ll follow you anywhere," he says, his voice steady, filled with quiet resolve. "Wherever you go—whether it’s the skies or the earth—I’ll be with you."

Your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you are overwhelmed by the depth of his devotion. You reach back, placing your hand over his where it rests at your waist, your fingers intertwining with his.

"And I’ll always have you by my side," you whisper, though the wind carries your words away.

Grey Ghost lets out a soft rumble, a sound that vibrates through both of you, as though he, too, understands the significance of this moment. Together, the three of you fly on, the stars beginning to twinkle above, as the night stretches out endlessly before you.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x female reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #gwayne x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne x y/n #grey ghost

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ttrpg-smash-pass-vs · 1 month ago

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Finally, one where even people very familiar actually need me to note which is which.

On the left, the Brass Dragons! 8-64 ft (2.4-19.5 m) long as dragons never stop growing. Brass Dragons are talkative carefree tricksters who delight in playing with and learning about humanoid cultures. That's partially to create information networks, they're schemers who try to influence civilizations towards a mindset of "if they're not hurting anyone, leave people alone." They've also got short attention spans, strong emotions, the ability to breathe fire or sleeping gas, and can innately cause supernatural fear when they want. Ones who go into spellcasting lean towards magic for info gathering, restraint, illusion, and dehibilitation (like blinding, sleep, etc).

On the right, the glorious Gold Dragon! 8-64 ft (2.4-19.5 m) long as dragons just get better with age. Absurdly strong but preferring to talk out issues, renowned for both thier wisdom and willingness to hear out even an enemy. Partially because they're so reclusive that if you managed to find them it must be a serious issue. Thier breath weapon weakens people or shoots flame, they can supernaturally frighten, they can turn failures into successes every few seconds (and successes into perfection), they have innate magic to sense gems and evil, and those who further thier magic gain divine spells! Magic to improve thier speed and performance, see through lies, heal, protect, daze, clean, and fix things! So if they break the bed just give them a few seconds.

#gold dragon #brass dragon #smash or pass #pathfinder #pf2e #pathfinder 2e

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blackcrowing · 2 years ago

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Important Facts about Samhain from an Irish Celtic Reconstructionist

Pronunciation

SOW-in or SOW-een ~NOT~ Sam-han, Sam-win etc.

Dates

Most reconstructionists celebrate Samhain on Oct 31-Nov 1, however some may choose to celebrate on Gregorian Nov 13-14 as this would match the Julian dates of Oct 31-Nov 1. Some also believe that it was a three day festival spanning Oct 31- Nov 2 on which Nov 2 is specifically devoted to ancestral veneration, but there is no specific evidence of this, only possible extrapolation from more modern practices.

Following the Celtic method of days beginning at sunset, regardless of the specific dates you choose to celebrate on your festivities should begin at sunset and end at sunset.

Importance in the Mythos

Ná Morrighan has a strong connection to this time of year thanks to the story of Cath Dédenach Maige Tuired (The Last Battle of Mag Tuired) in which she is found depicted as the ‘Washing Woman’ (sometimes washing herself in the river and other times washing the bloodied armor of the soldiers that would die that day), on the eve of the battle which is also Samhain. The Dagda approaches her and couples with her (creating the ‘Bed of the Couples’ along the bank of river and granting Dagda her blessing in the battle to come). This encounter seems to over emphasize the liminality of the encounter by taking place during the changing of the year and with the couple each standing with ‘one foot on either bank�� of the river.

She and her sisters (Badb and Macha) then use various forms of magic to rain destruction on their enemies (in the form of fire and blood). After the day is won Morrighan speaks a prophecy that describes what is taken by some to be the end of days and others to be the events which will later lead to the Ulster Cycle.

Beneath the peaceful heavens lies the land. It rests beneath the bowl of the bright sky. The land lies, itself a dish, a cup of honeyed strength, there, for the taking, offering strength to each There it lies, the splendour of the land. The land is like a mead worth the brewing, worth the drinking. It stores for us the gifts of summer even in winter. It protects and armours us, a spear upon a shield Here we can make for ourselves strong places, the fist holding the shield Here we can build safe places, our spear-bristling enclosures. This is where we will turn the earth. This is where we will stay. And here will our children live to the third of three generations Here there will be a forest point of field fences The horn counting of many cows And the encircling of many fields There will be sheltering trees So fodderful of beech mast that the trees themselves will be weary with the weight. In this land will come abundance bringing: Wealth for our children Every boy a warrior, Every watch dog, warrior-fierce The wood of every tree, spear-worthy The fire from every stone a molten spear-stream Every stone a firm foundation Every field full of cows Every cow calf-fertile Our land shall be rich with banks in birdsong Grey deer before Spring And fruitful Autumns The plain shall be thronged from the hills to the shore. Full and fertile. And as time runs its sharp and shadowy journey, this shall be true. This shall be the story of the land and its people We shall have peace beneath the heavens. Forever

(based on the translation by Isolde Carmody)

It is also mentioned in Echtra Cormaic that on this festival every seven years the high king would host a feast, it was at this time new laws could be enacted. (but it seems that individual Tuathas or possibly kings of the individual providence may have done this for their territories at Lughnasadh).

It seems to be a time considered especially susceptible to (or of) great change as it is the time which the Tuatha de Danann win victory over the Formorians and take control of Ireland, the invasion of Ulster takes place at this time in Táin bo Cúailnge, in Aislinge Óengusa Óengus and his bride-to-be are changed from bird to human and eventually he claims kingship of Brú na Bóinne at this time of year.

Celebration Traditions

Samhain is the beginning of the “dark half” of the year and is widely regarded as the Insular Celtic equivalent of the New Year. The “dark half” of the year was a time for story telling, in fact in this half of the year after dark is considered the only acceptable time to tell stories from the mythological and Ulster cycle (the Fenian cycle being assumed to be no older than the 12th century based on linguistic dating). Traditionally anything that had not been harvested or gathered by the time of this festival was to be left, as it now belonged to the Fae (in some areas specifically the Púca).

This was also an important time for warding off ill luck in the coming year. Large bonfires would be built and as the cattle were driven back into the community from the pastures they would be walked between these bonfires as a method of purification (the reverse custom of Bealtaine where the livestock were walked between the fires on their way out to the summer pastures). Assumed ritualistic slaughter of some of the herd would follow (though this perhaps had the more practical purpose of thinning the herd before the winter and creating enough food for the feasting). In some areas the ashes from these fires would be worn, thrown or spread as a further way to ward off evil.

Homes would be ritualistically protected from the Aos Sí (Fae or ‘Spirits’) through methods such as offerings of food (generally leaving some of the feasting outside for them), carving turnips with scary faces to warn them off (we now tend to do this with gourds), and smoke cleansing the home (in Scottish saining) traditionally with juniper, but perhaps rowan or birch might be an acceptable alternative. It is likely these would be part of the components used in Samhain bonfires as well, for the same reason.

Lastly based on later traditions as well as links in the mythology this is a time where divination practices or those with the ‘second sight’ were regarded to be especially potent.

Art Credit @morpheus-ravenna

My Kofi

#samhain #irish #irish mythology #irish polytheism #irish paganism #celtic reconstructionism #celtic paganism #celtic polytheism #na morrigna #the morrígan #the dagda #fire festival #blackcrowing #Irish reconstructionist

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 11 months ago

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since i started looking more into mating rituals and parenting styles of crows (for very normal reasons i swear), i've begun to find the "Crowley is a dead-beat dad" joke a bit ironic, as most of the websites i've seen said that crows are actually very involved in their chicks lives while they're still in the nest. one website even considered crows "one of the best parents in the animal kingdom"

I’ve researched bird mating myself (not for TWST reasons, but because I have to care for a Real Bird), though not for crows specifically. Very interesting (and ironic)!

I wonder just how much “truth” there is behind that irl crow stuff and TWST lore 🤔 Because we have some clear instances of the real life animal reflecting TWST fantasy races’ behaviors! For example, Jack states that wolf beastmen are monogamous (they mate for life and stick to that one partner), which is true of actual wolves too. Ruggie’s mother died giving birth to him, an occurrence which is not uncommon among female hyenas. The shape of the… uh… birth canal… is often too small and has a sharp turn, so giving birth is traumatic/can lead to complications so severe it literally kills the mom. Hyenas are also not monogamous, which may partially be why there is lore about Ruggie’s father leaving and never returning. There’s also non-mating behaviors which are reflective of irl animals, such as women from the Sunset Savanna being “strong” (since lionesses do most of the hunting), Azul having a strong grip (like that of an octopus), or Sebek’s family having scales and a strong bite (like crocodiles). I would say irl animals being used as part of character references is fairly common.

However! There are also examples of TWST’s fantasy races not exactly aligning with irl animals and their behaviors. When Leona talks about his brother and his wife, he refers to the wife singular, not wive(s). Irl lions have prides and mate with various partners over the span of their life. It’s rare for lizards (the closest thing to dragons, lol) to be monogamous, yet Maleanor seemed very loyal to her husband Raverne and is even described to dote on him. We also don’t know much about the twins’ or Azul’s families’ behaviors, so there isn’t much to compare there.

So really, I wonder where Crowley lies on this spectrum of “animal realism” 😂 Based on solely his current attitude, yeah… He ain’t much of a “Parent of the Year” www

#twisted wonderland #twst #Dire Crowley #Jack Howl #Leona Kingscholar #Ruggie Bucchi #Azul Ashengrotto #Jade Leech #Floyd Leech #Tweels #Octavinelle #notes from the writing raven #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Meleanor Draconia #Raverne Draconia #Maleanor Draconia #Savanaclaw #Sebek Zigvolt

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jessamine-rose · 1 year ago

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⋆˚♱ଘ Red Sky at Night, Shepherd’s Delight ଓ♱˚⋆

*slides in with more Church AU ideas* May I interest y’all in Priest! Arlecchino x Devotee! Darling?? Do enjoy this sweet story ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

Tw:: yandere, manipulation, psychological trauma, stalking, blood, violence, death, religious abuse, self-flagellation, harassment, MDNI, pls take note of these warnings

Note:: FICTIONAL depictions of religion

♡ 3.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ As with most nations, the Church is the highest authority in Fontaine. This is especially true for the Court of Fontaine, a city that boasts a strong faith in God. However, it is this same faith which has been corrupted by the Church to spin a web of lies, prejudices, and hypocrisies. Still, there is hope for that city, as provided by its head priest Arlecchino.

♡ Not much can be said about her previous life. In the past, she was known as Peruere, a quiet orphan from the House of the Hearth. Raised by her predecessor Crucabena, Peruere followed in her footsteps and claimed to have felt a calling to priesthood. There was a beauty to it, the idea of a child giving back to the Church by bringing its followers closer to salvation. At least, that is how the public perceived her vocation.

♡ In truth, Peruere’s motivations were different. Shortly after her ordination, Crucabena disappeared under mysterious circumstances and her authority was passed on to Arlecchino. Immediately afterwards, she began to reform the Church and the House of the Hearth. She challenged the Church’s falsehoods, eliminated the other corrupt priests, and preached a more compassionate form of worship.

♡ Despite her efforts, however, scars run deep within the city. The children weren’t the only ones harmed by Crucabena; her influence spanned the entire Court of Fontaine, from religious schools to devout families. In the latter’s case, it can be difficult for Arlecchino to reach out to individuals and correct their beliefs. But some have taken to her like a moth to flame, actively seeking out her enlightenment. One such moth is you.

☾⋆｡ ๋

“Excuse me, Father!”

The Church is silent in the wake of mass. Footsteps and voices echo as believers depart to go on with their daily lives. The children are walking through the exit connected to the House of the Hearth, their solemn demeanors giving way to laughter. Only two people remain.

As always, you linger behind Arlecchino, head bowed.

“Ah, ______.” She turns around to face you. “Is something the matter?”

You look the same—shy expression, modest clothing, rosary in hand.

In a quiet voice, you tell her, “I am in need of your guidance. Yesterday, I…can we discuss this in your office? I’ll try to keep it short this time.”

“Ah, of course. Follow me.”

By now, it has become routine for you to approach Arlecchino after weekly mass. She leads you down a hallway and into her private office, her confident gait juxtaposed by your meek footsteps. A few words are whispered to a passing nun—orders to prepare your favorite tea and desserts.

In the meantime, she takes a seat on the sofa and gives you a polite smile.

“Go on. You have my undivided attention.”

☾⋆｡ ๋

♡ If Arlecchino’s trauma led to her disillusionment with the Church, then yours brought you “closer” to God. Technically, there is nothing wrong with your devotion—you pray daily, treat people with compassion, and derive a sense of solace from your religion. The harm lies in your blind faith, your total dependence on Arlecchino’s guidance.

♡ While you’ve accepted Arlecchino’s stance on religion, you still abide by Crucabena’s doctrine when it comes to your own religious life. You abstain from all vices. You repent for actions which barely count as sins. You are in a constant state of shame, guilt, paranoia, confusion. She can only imagine just how traumatic your meetings with Crucabena were.

♡ Still, you make for enjoyable company. It is common for Arlecchino to see you in the House of the Hearth bearing gifts for the children—and she can tell the difference between performances and your genuine acts of charity. When you aren’t confiding in her, you inquire about her hobbies, her favorite things, her life before priesthood. There is something so pitiful, so precious about your trust in her.

♡ Which is why Arlecchino is quick to notice a shift in your attitude. It begins with you sitting in the middle pews during mass, rather than your usual spot in the front row. During communion, you avoid eye contact and accept the wafer from her with trembling hands. There is a decrease in your private meetings. Fortunately, there is no need for her to investigate; rather, you provide the answer on a silver platter.

♡ Confessions are a wellspring of valuable information. Be it a direct admission or small details, such encounters have aided Arlecchino in punishing those who commit evil under the guise of virtue. Neither is it difficult for her to deduce one’s identity through their voice and mannerisms. So when she recognizes you beyond the screen, she wonders why you opted for the confessional rather than your usual face-to-face confessions with her.

☾⋆｡ ๋

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned. My last confession was one week ago.”

That is the first thing you tell her. From the center compartment, Arlecchino can imagine you doing the sign of the cross. The ritualistic gesture lends a short-lived grace to your movements, your hands honed by years of practice.

A pause. “Pardon my insolence but I must know: I am not speaking to Father Arlecchino, am I?”

Oh?

“You are not,” is her swift response, spoken in an altered voice. “And why do you ask? Does your confession concern the head priest?”

What secrets could you possibly be hiding from her?

She hears a hitched breath. “No! I just don’t want her to know. So please, what I’m about to tell you…don’t breathe a word of it to anyone else.”

“But of course. And what do you have to confess, my child?”

There is the sound of beads clicking together—your rosary, an old violet-and-black set designed by Crucabena. Arlecchino owned an identical one up until her death.

“These past years,” you whisper, “I have been consumed with carnal desires.”

She sits up straighter. “Desires?”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter. “There’s this person I’ve known for years, and I’ve always looked up to them as a fellow believer. Yet over time, I’ve been plagued with…impure thoughts of them. They captivate me. Their attention brings me joy and anxiety in equal parts. They haunt my thoughts in debauched fantasies. Yet we aren’t even married, much less lovers.”

Who are they?

A spider has taken up residence in a corner of the ceiling. It sits in the center of a silvery web, waiting for its prey.

She clears her throat. “And what is the matter with that? It is true that many view lust as a sin. But carnal desires are natural and not evil as to warrant eternal damnation.”

Silence. Most likely, you are mulling over what she just said; discernment isn’t your strong suit.

It’s just like you to fret over an ordinary crush. But who is this person that ensnared your heart? Do they know you as well as her?

Arlecchino continues speaking. “Moreover, no human is immune to temptation. From what you told me, it is clear that you have made active efforts to suppress your lust. So is it not possible for you to resist this so-called temptation, if not distance yourself from the object of your desire?”

“But how can I resist temptation when its very source lies in the Church?!”

Even Arlecchino is caught off-guard by your outburst. It is followed by your horrified gasp.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

Your next words are spoken in an even softer voice. “It’s Father Arlecchino. She is the one I desire.”

A fly buzzes through the latticed screen of the confessional. It briefly hovers around Arlecchino before she swats it away.

“Ah, now I understand.”

“She hasn’t done anything to me!” you add quickly. “I swear, it’s purely one-sided. And that is what distresses me most of all. She is a woman of God, dedicated to the salvation of His flock, yet here I am making a mockery of her righteousness.”

“And what do you see in her?”

“Where do I even begin? She’s kind. I know there are people who speak ill of her, claiming she preaches falsehoods, but I’ve witnessed her compassion with my own eyes. The orphans love her. The Church is warmer, more welcoming under her authority. And…”

The fly has taken a liking to the spiderweb. Spying its prospective prey, the spider begins its crawl towards the edge of the web.

You take a deep breath. “She knows of my religious struggles yet has never given me reason to fear her judgment. She is the one who helped me discern my vocation. She is the one who put a stop to my self-flagellation, even though that penance was assigned by Mother Crucabena. She is the one who has reassured me, time and time again, that I am worthy of God’s love. She…”

That is when you burst into tears.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the confessional are your choked sobs and rosary beads. Arlecchino herself remains silent but her thoughts are just as discordant.

Her gaze drifts to her necklace. It is a far cry from Crucabena’s rosary, a long chain from which hangs a silver cross adorned with ornate engravings and crimson jewels. When she presses down on a specific jewel, the pendant separates to reveal a hidden blade.

How long has it been since she struck Crucabena with that false symbol?

“I’ve tried so hard to be good,” you continue between sobs. “All my life, I’ve done my best to resist temptation and abide by the Church’s teachings. So why…? What I feel for Father Arlecchino—it’s disgusting, it’s not normal, it cannot be called love. But I…”

Your voice trails off. In her mind’s eye, Arlecchino sees you kneeling with your head bowed and your rosary looped around your clasped hands. If only she could wipe your tears.

“And I am truly sorry for all my sins,” you sniffle. “Now please, Father, what is my penance? If you tell me to distance myself from Father Arlecchino, then I will do so at once. If anything, I think she’d prefer it; I’ve wasted enough of her time.”

“Hush, my child,” she says sharply. Then, in a gentler tone, she adds, “Give me time to think.”

The fly is caught in the spider’s web. From her seat, Arlecchino watches as the spider bites down on the struggling insect and wraps it in silk, sealing its unfortunate fate.

Well, this was an unexpected answer, but not an unfortunate one.

In truth, she cares little about her vow of chastity. It is but a minor offense compared to those of her fellow priests. As for your attraction towards her, it doesn’t bother her at all. Her own sentiments require further reflection but for now…

“Why not put your desires to the test?”

There is the sound of beads hitting the floor. “Excuse me?”

In a calm voice, she explains, “There is nothing inherently sinful about falling in love with a priest. Rather, the fault should lie in the priest who cannot commit to their vow of chastity. But that, too, can be put into question—after all, nowhere in the religious texts is it explicitly stated that God demanded celibacy from His shepherds. It is for this reason that other denominations allow their priests to marry and procreate.”

“I see,” you mutter. “Though I doubt our Church would permit that anytime soon.”

“Who knows? As for the matter of your penance…like you said, it is impossible to escape the object of your desire. So why don’t you continue your usual interactions with Father Arlecchino? It will enable you to discern whether what you feel for her is truly lust or love. And should you ever confess your feelings to her, she will be the one to instruct you on what to do.”

“Is that all? Surely, there must be another—”

She cuts you off. “That is the only way. It is my belief that you need only desire something with sufficient intensity and God will answer. Or are you doubting my words as a priest?”

Your fearful “no!” puts an end to your confession. Thus, you recite your prayers and leave the confessional. After a while, Arlecchino makes a stealthy exit.

Just as she expected, you are still praying inside the Church. With your dried tears and tightly clasped hands, you make a perfect image of repentance.

Shaking her head, she walks down the hallway and into her office.

The tea table is empty. That will change tomorrow; she already has the perfect choice of desserts in mind. Cakes, tarts, macarons, all of your favorite treats.

The next day, an invitation is delivered to your doorstep. The envelope bears the official seal of the Church of Fontaine.

☾⋆｡ ๋

♡ Since then, Arlecchino has treated you differently. In the past, her religious counsel took the form of reassurances, open-ended questions, and reminders that only you can discern your own fate. But now she finds herself giving you more specific lessons and instructions. She invites you to more tea parties and private events in the House of the Hearth.

♡ She is also more…physical these days. During mass, she puts the communion wafer in your mouth, a gloved thumb brushing against your lip. On your walks to her office, she places her hand on your back, forcing you to match her pace. At one point, she even pulls you aside and tells you to disrobe so she can see if you are wearing your scapular properly. There is a moment of silence when your scars are exposed, followed by the warm sensation of her fingertips tracing your skin.

♡ However, it doesn’t take long for another issue to arise. One mass, Arlecchino notices that a certain individual has moved to the front pews to sit next to you. This continues for weeks, with him speaking to you before and after the service. You’re clearly uncomfortable around him, and it reaches the point that you mention it to Arlecchino during a tea party.

♡ Quietly, you explain that you are being harassed by one of your coworkers. For weeks, he has been bothering you at work, walking you home from mass, showing no signs of accepting your blatant rejections. Even worse, no one is taking your distress seriously due to his popularity within the Court of Fontaine. Normally, Arlecchino would be quick to eliminate him but she decides on another solution which would kill two birds with one stone.

♡ Her suggestion is that you stay in the Church for a few weeks. It is a convenient arrangement on both sides—the children are already familiar with you; the House of the Hearth has no shortage of rooms; and in the worst-case scenario, it can serve as a trial period for nunhood. In the past, Arlecchino did deem your personality fitting for a life of religious service, though you disagreed on the basis that you weren’t “worthy” of such an important role.

♡ It doesn’t take long for you to adjust. The House of the Hearth is quiet, secure, shielded from outside disturbances. The children are friendly to you, and they all agree that you’d fare well as their caretaker. Best of all, Arlecchino has more excuses to spend time with you—barbeque parties, walks along the sea, meetings with the other priests and nuns, nightly conversations in your room. It feels like home.

♡ One day, you are fitted into a nun’s habit. It looks perfect on you, with a few embellishments to suit your style preferences. Arlecchino personally helps you into the outfit, fixing the buttons and smoothing out imaginary creases. The final piece is a cross necklace identical to her own; she casually reveals the hidden blade and claims it is a self-defense mechanism. When you cast your gaze upon your shared reflection in the mirror, a flustered smile adorns your face.

♡ Still, you are undecided on your “true” vocation. Eventually, you decide to return to your job and think it over. Arlecchino personally escorts you to your house and insists that you keep your cross necklace, if only to replace your “missing” rosary. Once the front door is shut, she casts a harsh glare upon the figure across the street. Later, her children are assigned to keep watch over you and your stalker.

♡ For the next few days, all is well. Your daily life resumes. Arlecchino keeps a close eye on you through her children’s reports and her own inspections. After mass, the two of you enjoy another tea party, and you make no mention of your stalker. When the news reaches the city of an upcoming celestial phenomenon, you eagerly accept Arlecchino’s invitation for a viewing party.

♡ The crimson moon rises, bathing the world in a blood-red glow. While the children gaze at the moon, Arlecchino waits for you in front of the orphanage. Strange, punctuality is one of your virtues yet you’re late. Just as she is about to leave for your house, Freminet frantically approaches her and leads her to the Church.

♡ Red. It’s all over you, and not from the moonlight. The first thing Arlecchino sees is you curled up on the floor in a state of shock. In the heart of the Church lies a familiar figure—your stalker, writhing on the floor as blood pools from his chest. Lynette stands over him, ensuring that he won’t escape, while Lyney tries and fails to console you.

♡ All three of her children are wearing their crosses. Yours is on the floor, its blade exposed and tainted with blood. Lyney is the one who explains the situation to Arlecchino: They heard a commotion in the Church and by the time they arrived, you had driven your cross into your stalker’s heart. He had attacked you and paid the price.

♡ Calmly, Arlecchino tells Freminet to bring you to the orphanage. Once you are gone, she walks up to your stalker and stomps on his head, piercing his skull with her stiletto. Lyney and Lynette are told to dispose of the body, clean up the church, then return to the party. The crimson moon serves as a silent witness all throughout.

☾⋆｡ ๋

“Father, your face…”

As soon as he sees her, Freminet leaves your room and closes the door behind him.

“Freminet.” Arlecchino wipes the blood off her cheek. “That sinner has been dealt with. You may return to the party.”

“Oh? Okay.” He nods, casting a worried look at your door. As he walks down the hallway, one of his hands comes up to touch his cross pendant.

With that, Arlecchino enters your room.

Even in your change of clothes, your visage is painted crimson by the moonlight. Your body is slumped against the bed, knees on the floor. No sounds leave your lips save for short breaths. Tiny crescents mar your arms—a coping mechanism or an attempt at penance?

Wordlessly, she sits next to you and pats your head with a gloved hand.

“Father.” You are the one to break the silence. “What just…”

“That man is dead.” She says it plainly, her tone void of judgment. “He won’t be able to torment you any longer.”

You immediately look up, eyes glossy. “Are you sure?! Did I…?”

In the blood-red moonlight, your anguish is clear as day. Your hands tremble, nails digging into the mattress, before clasping together in a graceless effort to steel yourself. But the familiar gesture does little to calm you, all prayers futile in the wake of your sin.

“This is it. I’m really going to burn in Hell,” you sob. “I didn’t mean to—what should I do, Father?”

This time, Arlecchino spares no warmth in consoling you. She adjusts your body so that your head rests on her lap, letting your tears drip onto her cassock. Her hand remains on the back of your head, stroking your hair.

“There is no need to fret,” she says gently. “Before the moon sets, the Church will be purged of that man’s filth and it will be as though he never appeared tonight.”

You shake your head. “Even then, you…God knows what I have done.”

“Listen to me.” She tilts your face upwards, her expression firm. “All you did was use your cross necklace for its intended purpose—to save yourself from harm. And yet even in the face of evil, you claim to be the one who sinned. None of this is your fault, ______.”

Her other hand caresses your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“Perhaps it is all part of God’s plan,” she muses. As she speaks, she kneels to your level and holds your hands, intertwining your fingers. “We live in a cruel world and it is only in places such as my Church that safety can be promised. Should you take the veil, no other sinners would dare to violate your virtue.”

Your next words are soft, hesitant, filled with disbelief. “Are you saying that I can still become a nun?! That you…you don’t mind keeping me around?”

“And for what reason would I deny you sanctuary?” she asks, her expression shifting to a frown. “As a priest, it is my duty to shepherd God’s flock. And as a person, it is my desire to protect those I cherish. Everything I do is for your own good.”

For once, you are rendered speechless. All you can do is stare at your lap, at your hands clasped together.

When Arlecchino leans towards you, her grip prevents you from drawing back.

“All you must do is listen to me,” she whispers. “Until our mortal deaths, I will be the one to lead you away from true temptation and deliver you from evil. Does it seem agreeable to you?”

“I…I guess so,” you whimper. Nervously, you meet her gaze, your eyes alight with a glimmer of hope. “If it’s you, I can believe it.”

“Good. And remember this always, ______.”

The crimson moon shines brightly, casting a blood-red halo around your savior. And as Arlecchino pulls you closer, your lips a breath away from a kiss, a secret is divulged with the fervence of a sacred prayer.

“God still loves you. As do I.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics who are not listed in my masterlist.

…Don’t ask me how many times I broke down over Priest! Arlecchino. Just don’t. To all of the Arle simps out there, I hope I did your wife justice. And may you all suffer from brainrot bc I refuse to be the only one in pain (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

Lastly, lots of love to @diodellet for beta-reading this fic and my mutuals for indulging my brainrot. I hope this was worth the wait <3

Tag an Arlecchino enjoyer!! @navxry @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @ainescribe @vennnnn-diagram @stickyspeckledlight @harmonysanreads @ddarker-dreams

#arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #yandere arlecchino x reader #yandere arlecchino #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #fatui x reader #yandere fatui harbingers #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: stalking #tw: abuse #g/n reader #mdni #jessamine-writing

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paperanmitsu · 2 days ago

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Black Butterflies and Deja Vu

Started playing Love and Deep Space, the hyper-fixation is strong so thought I'd try some writing. Asked some friends for LI/Prompt/Song to see what would happen!

Character: Sylus x MC Song: Black Butterflies & Deja Vu by The Maine Prompt: When they first meet, the words he can't speak. Rating: G? PG? For: @stellarbursts

He is nothing but a black butterfly to the flame that is her life, her soul a molten sunset radiating from her and enveloping him in burning streaks of red and gold. The warmth of it is on his skin like the itchy sensation right before getting a sunburn, the memory of her always brings with it a cool breeze drenching him in the scent of wildflowers.

The irony of the situation is not lost on him, since when did the dragon become a prince, rescuing princesses in distress. He has no patience to draw it out, he needs to be next to her. The danger he eradicates like dust in the wind, and he makes his way to the most precious treasure that he has ever had.

He meets her eyes, fearlessly, boldly, hungrily. Too long has he waited to be in her presence again, to find the other half of his soul, magnets drawn together forever. His soul bound in her the North Star he used to navigate through the emptiness of diamond studded space, the part of her soul bound within him jealously guarded flickering coals he protects as fiercely as any dragon hoard in a cave.

The thinly contained excitement, the thrill of success in his blood intoxicating like sacred wine. His heart, thrumming so fast, they are at the stand of the summit. The edge of the aircraft before leaping intertwined into the skies--the crescendo. Now he will finally find out, how her song for him ends.

But before his lifetime spanning love can reach his eyes, he looks into hers and sees nothing. Nothing in her gaze, nothing in the eyes that he dreams of. He is a stranger to her, or worse. Even now, even now she tests him. Punishes him.

Desperation and fear comes out as rage and coldness. He barely knows what he is saying to her now, but the words on his lips and in his eyes don't match what his entire being is crying out. Begging her to hear what he isn't saying. The two souls housed in his body are beating frantically against the wall separating their other half.

Recognize me, remember me. It's me. Your dragon. I'm here. He suffocates in a loneliness that smells like decaying wildflowers and old blood.

What a fool to think he could escape from the shadows. Her song for him still has no ending. How could a dragon ever dream of being a prince.

A small voice, so pathetic he'd never admit it was his. A prayer only his soul can hear, A desperate attempt to shatter the anonymity keeping them apart. Please, my beloved, let me come home. But silence is the only response. A bittersweet crescendo to an unfinished symphony

#lads sylus #lads #love and deepspace sylus #sylus angst #sylus x mc #drabble #lads fanfic #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #Spotify

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howdoesagrapewrites · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬: 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐲𝐫𝐞

Plot: You, the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen grew up with a very devoted extended family. But after the dance of dragons begins, you know exactly on what side you belong

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, mentions of noncon, Aegon being... Him

Notes: I didn't love to make such a long post for the last ending, so this will be a series as well (and I also find it more convenient as people tend to be less likely to read long posts)

You will understand this better if you read this ending

>The night of king Viserys' last supper, you were the victim of a mysterious illness, and were forced to stay in King's Landing as your family returned to Dragonstone

>Since then, you had to be a witness of Aegon's usurpation, and were forced to marry prince Aemond, becoming a prisoner in the strong walls of the red keep in all but name

>You decided very early on that you will return home to your family, you will not be accomplice to this insult to the rightful heir, Rhaenyra

>You loved Alicent, you did, but what she did to you, to your family, was a betrayal. She married you to Aemond, even though she knew of your affection for Daeron, she marries you without your permission or even announcement, she marries you to Aemond, as if it was her call, as if she was in her right to betroth you to anyone

>And the one who you thought of as a brave knight, was silent to the whole thing, not a word to say to you

>In a span of mere days, your affection for them had virtually vanished

>It was hard, and it hurt to feel like all your life you had trusted people who would treat you like this

>Especially for Daeron and Alicent

>But you will have time to mourn later

>You tell yourself you can't let your feelings stale you

>It was the night after Aegon's coronation, Aemond, should be asleep next to you, but he is too busy on the council, fooling himself acting as hand of the king

>Which it's perfect for you, since you want to do anything you can to avoid consummating your marriage

>Your father had taught you everything about the secret passages in the Red Keep, he knew them as well as king Maegor himself, and though you could not memorize it as well, it was enough to know how to get out

>But you had a mission first

>"He wears the conqueror's crown, wields the conqueror's sword and has the conqueror's name" said Alicent

>It was too soon to take away his crown, you not take away his name, but you certainly could take away his sword. It's not like he'd use it anyway

>You looked in the mirror and fixed yourself before going out through the passages, you felt a little disgusted with yourself

>It took you some time to get to Aegon's chambers, (to your surprise) Aegon was there instead of a rat infested brothel

>Still, he was much too drunk to notice you, and he was alone. It had been years since he and Helaena had shared a bed. You pitied her, but at least she was lucky, she had given not one but two male heirs, and she had no reason to keep "trying" with Aegon

>You walked on your tiptoes, the sword was hanging in the wall next to his bed, you feared the sound of metal would wake him up

>But it didn't, he instead was (somehow) was sober enough to know you were there, and most importantly, to know it was you

>"Y/N, you are here..." His voice was as drowsy as it was whiny "Came to congratulate the king?" You could see his repugnant smirk aimed at you

>"Indeed, your grace" you lied

>"Come here, here" he sat on the pillows and patted on the mattress to invite you

>"I don't think that would be appropriate, your grace" you were tense, and scared. You avoided him, you don't remember well when it happened, but he changed, he scared you, you feared he might do something to you, and you could do nothing to retaliate, now it was worse, he was the king

>"Pleaaseeeee, pleaseee, just a bit, just for now, I won't do anything" he promised

>"I truly do not think it would be fitting for your grace to be in that position... Even in innocently" you really hoped for the "innocently" part to be true

>But Aegon did the face a child does once they remember something important, like a candle lighting on their head "But I'm your grace, I'm the king, I demand you come here"

>You could do nothing to those words, so you obeyed

>You sat down at the edge of his bed, but he signaled you to be closer, next to him

>"I like when you say your grace, when you say it to me" he smiled

>"It is how one must address you now, just that"

>Aegon pouted

>"Do you love me?"

>You were speechless, and struggled to come up with a polite response to that, you finally just said every subject must love the king, you just prayed for safety being so close, so late, so alone with him

>"But do you love me? Me? Do you love me now?"

>"I- I beg your pardon?"

>"I wanted you to love me, Y/N, do you love me now? I'm king, do you love me now?" He was drunk, slurring his words and repeating them

>You blushed and you felt your heart pound, you were scared, you knew that. But you were also even a little sad for him, you wanted to look at him the way you did when you both were young, you could, and at the same time, it was impossible

>You don't remember how he ended up in front of you, facing you with sad eyes, and unmistakable stink of wine, that reminded you of who he was now

>"I think I'll always love you, Aegon" you wanted to believe it was a lie you told yourself it was

>A tear or two ran through his pale cheeks and he threw himself to your arms, almost knocking you beneath him in bed

>But instead of the lecherous predatory behavior you expected, he just kissed your cheeks and tried to kiss you in the mouth, it was gross, wet, he was drunk so he was salivating

>You grabbed his face with your hands and placed a kiss on his forehead, he asked for more, but he instantly decided he was tired, and grabbed you like a ragdoll, pushing you to the pillows and beneath the blankets with him, you're still fully clothed so it feels heavy. Aegon hugs you like a Teddy bear until he quickly falls asleep, when you try to leave, he complains in his sleep and grabs the fabric of your clothes. But you manage to slip a pillow in between his arms to replace you

>You look at him for the last time before stealing Blackfyre, and think of how different things could have been.

>Once you have the sword with you, you stay in between the walls for some time. Your dragon is not in the dragonpit, how do you find him?

>You can't go to the city, you can't risk having the sword stolen from you

>This might be a suicide, this probably is a suicide, but is all you got

>You decide to go to the dragonpit, you'll ride a dragon to find a dragon. The rule has always been: one rider, one dragon, one dragon, one ride. But you are desperate

>When you get to the pit, you wonder who could be the best dragon to ride for the search, Tessarion is here, but only ever rode alongside her, same for Sunfyre and Dreamfyre. Trying to tame an unclaimed dragon is dangerous, and even if you could, Dagahrion may kill them

>But there's one that knows you very well: Vhagar

>You rode on her back when she was Laena's, you were a little lass still, but she remembers you. And you rode her with Aemond last night

>It is better than nothing, and if she ate you, you know she's so big it'd be a quick death

>You pet her, and she gives into your touch

>You keep calming and buttering her up before you get on top. You're used to riding a large dragon, but she's different, every dragon is, you suppose

>You feel sorry for the ruckus caused when you and Vhagar ascended, poor dragonkeepers

>Your running was obviously not silent

>And so the search for Dagahrion begins. You have to find him before Vhagar decides to kick you off her back

>And before any other dragon comes looking for you

#yandere hotd #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere targaryens #hotd x reader #Targaryens x reader #yandere aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen x reader #yandere aemond targaryen

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zinfindoll · 7 months ago

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Gehenna | fem!reader x twst | 00.

[ ao3 | quotev ]

[ index | next chapter (coming soon!) ]

Rating: T CW: Injuries, gore, mentioned death

AN: i wanted to write smth spooky for halloween so i have a reader from the evil dead world being sent over to twisted wonderland. this takes place directly at the end of evil dead 2, when ash gets sent to 1300 A.D.! you do not need to watch or consume evil dead media to hopefully enjoy this piece <3 I do not update often on here but feel free to follow my AO3 or Quotev for more constant updates! <3 there are currently more chapters uploaded to AO3 and Q right now.

It was funny how everything could change in the span of two days. In just two days, you had watched your sister and her friends die. In just two days you had gone from the happy-go-lucky 16 year old to a war-hardened vet. You had seen everybody around you get brutally murdered, had seen your older brother get possessed and try to kill you, had fought against forces best left unseen.

And now, you were dying.

Everything hurt. Your body felt like it was on fire, and you felt cold. As you lied on the ground next to the lifeless body of Annie, you struggled to prop yourself up on your one good arm. Each movement brought fresh waves of pain that had you whimpering.

You had come so far. So fucking far. And for what? To bleed out just when the demon had been defeated? What a joke.

Your brother crawled over to where you and Annie laid, and you could see tears drip from his eyes as he helped you to sit up. "We did it," he gasped. Blood dripped from his head from one of the many wounds he had gotten in his own fight against the Kandarian demon. "No, no, c'mon kid, stay with me!"

Ash was rapidly smacking your cheek, the sensation stinging. You didn't realize your eyes had been closing, and you groggily opened them back up, staring up at his panic-stricken face.

"M... Really tired." Your words were slurred, and he began to shake you. In any other instance you would have scolded him for being so rough. If somebody was bleeding out, you didn't try to give them shaken baby syndrome!

"God damn it, stay awake!"

"Why... are you always so loud?" you rasped. Before he could respond, though, the cabin door flung open, revealing what could only be described as a worm hole of sorts. It sucked everything in indiscriminately, and you watched with faint amusement as you could see Ash's car be pulled in from outside. That was rough.

"Agh!"

Ash cried out, holding you close with his one good arm. You appreciated him not bringing his chainsaw hand near you, although perhaps that would be the final step to put you out of your misery.

"How do you stop this?!" Ash exclaimed as the two of you began to be pulled across the floor. You grimaced at the feel of being pulled by such a strong force.

"Don't worry 'bout me," you muttered. "Just go."

Ash held onto you tighter. "No! First Cheryl... I'm not losing you, either!"

It was easier said than done, though. Neither you nor Ashley were strong enough to resist the pull of the vortex, and with no solid grip, you were the first to be pulled in. You offered no resistance, weakly clutching onto the Kandarian dagger that you had managed to pry from Annie's back.

He cried out your name as you felt yourself lift up off the ground; and the last thing you saw was his distraught face before the world around you turned black.

You were dead. This, you were certain. After all, not only were you standing in complete darkness, but you were completely uninjured. You didn't feel any pain, and both of your arms were in perfect working condition. You even flexed your left fingers experimentally, relieved to see everything was in order.

Everything that had happened was fresh in your mind, which was why you knew, without a doubt...

You were dead.

So where were you? Was this limbo? Was this truly the afterlife? Desolate and bleak? You had at least been hoping to see Cheryl again, but even she was gone.

You were completely alone.

Your knees buckled underneath you, the weight of everything that had happened weighing on you. You sank to the cold ground, and you let out a shuddering breath.

"You're not dead yet."

Your head snapped up, but you made no move to stand. In front of you stood... Well, something. You weren't sure if it was exactly a person. Their form seemed to shift and phase. It was humanoid in shape, but you couldn't really process any features, as if your mind was incapable of handling such a feat. At this point, you weren't surprised. The past few days had been literal hell for you.

"What does that mean?"

Slowly, you forced yourself to stand back up. Your legs trembled, but you stayed standing. The figure was only a little bit taller than you, and their voice was layered. When they spoke, it was as if many voices were speaking at once, an amalgamation of tones that created a dissonance in your mind.

"You fought well against the Kandarian demon and the Deadites, child."

"The.... huh?"

The entity sighed, although it seemed to be more in amusement than anything else. Its tone remained calm and patient, addressing your obvious confusion.

"The ones you once loved, possessed by demons from another plane... Those beings are, of course, the Deadites I refer to. It is rather unfortunate that you had to encounter them... But it is, whether you like it or not, the best."

"The best? Those things killed my sister, my friends — me." Your voice was choked up, cracking. But the being said you weren't dead yet. Was there hope for you?

"Indeed," the entity did not seem phased by your outburst. "You and your brother, Ashley Joanna Williams, were prophesized to be the ones to fight against the Kandarian demon, far before your ancestry could be traced back. Whether you like it or not, it is your duty to protect the Necronomicon from those who wish to wield it.

"You and Ashley Joanna Williams... Are set to save the world, one day."

You shook your head. Your throat felt dry. "No. No. We're just... a couple of idiots from Michigan. We've never done anything remarkable throughout our lives. You... Have to be mistaken. This was all a mistake. A simple case of the wrong place and wrong time." You shook your head again. There was no way... No way your fate was to do something so scary. It was a mistake. You refused to believe otherwise.

The entity was not perturbed by your adamancy, nor did it budge. "Whether you want to believe it or not, it is true. When you are much older, you will face off against Kandar the Destroyer." The entity paused in its wording, before continuing. "However... I do not believe it is time yet to thrust you into such a role. As Ashley Joanna Williams has been sent to find his own way and truth, so will you."

"Where is my brother?"

You took a hesitant step forward. If this meant Ash was still alive... You could at least rest a little bit easier.

"1300 A.D."

You nearly choked on your spit, slapping your hand over your mouth. "He's where?!" Your voice came out in a squeak.

"Fret not, child. I will not be sending you so far back in the past. His job is to save that era from darkness. You, too, will be sent somewhere where your presence is needed."

"I want to go back home—"

The entity waved its hand.

"And in time, you shall return to Elks Grove. But for now, you have your own part to play. Rest easy, child. Your story... Is just beginning."

The darkness began to lighten up, and you watched as the entity began to fade.

"Who are you?"

The entity spoke next, but it was pure static in your ears. Brightness engulfed you.

When you woke up, your body was in pain. You were surrounded by darkness once more, but you could tell this time it was because you were in an enclosed space.

Is this... a coffin?!

You felt like you were going to throw up. Sharp pains radiated throughout your torso, and you held your hand up to your abdomen only to find it sticky. You were still bleeding. Even worse, only your right hand had any movement, your left arm dangling uselessly at your side. It was for the best you couldn't see it right now; when possessed, Ash had driven his chainsaw through your forearm. It was a miracle it was still attached.

"Well, at least somebody had the decency to stay in their coffin before I could grab them!" The muffled voice was flamboyant in nature, and you winced as light began to crack through the lids. "Once I grab this last student, we can be on our way to the entrance ceremony to get you all sorted— hm?!"

As the lid was removed, you couldn't help but fall forward. You landed on the ground with a rough thud, and you were grateful you didn't break your nose in the process. The room was tinted blue, and you could have sworn you saw books floating around you in the peripheral of your vision.

"Sevens — what has happened to you?! There's so much blood....!"

The voice was panicked, and you were rolled over onto your back. You saw glimpses of two faces; one covered in a strange, black mask, and the other of a person with long black hair and worried silver eyes.

"Never in all of my tenure... No matter! We must get her to the infirmary posthaste!"

"What the..."

Before the words could finish leaving your lips, everything, once more, went black.

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spaceadvances · 2 years ago

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Most galaxies don't have any rings of stars and gas -- why does M94 have two? First, spiral galaxy M94 has an inner ring of newly formed stars surrounding its nucleus, giving it not only an unusual appearance but also a strong interior glow.

A leading origin hypothesis holds that an elongated knot of stars known as a bar rotates in M94 and has generated a burst of star formation in this inner ring. Observations have also revealed another ring, an outer ring, one that is more faint, different in color, not closed, and relatively complex. What caused this outer ring is currently unknown. M94, pictured here, spans about 45,000 light years in total, lies about 15 million light years away, and can be seen with a small telescope toward the constellation of the Hunting Dogs (Canes Venatici).

📷: Brian Brennan

#nasa #astronomy #astrophotography #solar system #astrophysics #hubble #nebula #physics #james webb space technology #james webb images #space advances #space adventures #space #space facts #science acumen #science #technology #love like the galaxy #galaxies

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dreamescapeswriting · 1 year ago

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Bound Forever ~ BC [MATURE WARNING]

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

GENRE: established relationships, angst, couple having a lovers spat, chan being an obsessive lover, clingy needy sex, SMUT minors DNI or you will be blocked!!! Unprotected sex, sweet and soft ending, hand holding, love yous,

PAIRING: Dom!Chan x Sub!Fem!Reader [ @whatudowhennooneseesyou]

⤜MASTERLIST

Under the fluorescent lights that were in Chan's studio, you watched him as he worked hard on his laptop, his eyes never straying from it barely even noticing that you were standing in the room with him. At one point you would have distracted your love together as a masterpiece sculpted by one of the greatest artists in the world, your relationship was filled with love and laughter over the years but just lately it was taking a hit. You always thought that you and Chan could face any storm together and that you'd somehow come out even stronger but just lately doubt was beginning to waver in your mind. The love that you had once cherished so deeply somehow felt as though it was fading into an echo of what once was and you were terrified you were going to lose Chan once and for all.

The two of you rarely went out anymore and hardly saw one another unless it was like today when you'd taken him some lunch to the studio since you doubted he was eating well at work. But Chan had barely looked up from his laptop to eat anything you'd cooked for him, all of his favourites too since you weren't sure what he was going to be in the mood for today.

Did he even want you to stick around for lunch? You stared down at the food on your plate, toying with the noodles on your chopsticks before putting it down and wiping your mouth on a napkin. Maybe you should have left after bringing him his food, he'd be back home later...You'd be asleep by the time he got home but he'd be home with you nonetheless. You began to gather your things, reaching for your bag beside Chan's desk, his eyes not once straying from the screen he was concentrating so hard on, a bunch of timelines on the screen you had no idea how to read.

"I'll see you at home baby, I love you." You spoke softly to the side of his head but he didn't even move, he just grunted something before you sighed a little and made your way to the door. Tightness pulled at your chest as you shook your head to yourself, maybe you were fooling yourself into believing your relationship was as strong as you thought. Perhaps things had always been like this between you and Chan and you'd failed to notice it until now.

As you reached the door, you paused for a second, turning to look over your shoulder at him, your eyes taking in the appearance of him one last time,

"Do you even love me anymore?" Something you'd intended to not say aloud flew from your lips anyway, stilling everything inside of the room as Chan's chair squeaked. An indication that he had turned around to face you but you were staring at the wall in front of you, wondering how long it would take for you to sprint out of there before he chased after you. The elevator doors were open, if you could make it to them then you'd have a fair chance,

"What did you say?" Chan's chair once again squeezed as he raised from the seat, his laptop abandoned as he stared at the back of your head. Sweat began to bead at the top of your head as you span around to face him, laughing nervously and shaking your head.

"Nothing, I was just thinking of a TV show." You lied, your nose twitching as a clear indication to Chan who was now pulling you back into his studio and shutting the door.

"Yn, don't bullshit me." His voice was stern as he stared down at you, but you avoided his gaze looking anywhere but at him right now.

"Chan, it's nothing." You whispered as you shook your head, there was no use getting into this here when there was nothing either of you could do about it.

"Yn." Your name came out of his mouth so low and demanding you knew it was a warning from him and you smiled weakly, staring at him as you shook your head.

You didn't want this to become a fight the two of you were going to have, it was a little doubt in your mind that you wished you could play off.

"I mean it, it's literally nothing. I was just-"

"Have I ever given you any indication I don't love you before?" The air turned thick as the two of you stared at one another, Chan stared at you waiting for you to answer him. Never in a million years would he want you to feel as though he didn't love you, that he didn't crave you at every single moment of the day.

"Well...t-things have been...strained." You admitted through a shakey voice, refusing to look at Chan

"Yn," His voice came out softer this time and he barely got it out through a whisper, his fingers moved to cup your chin and he turned your face to look at him.

"I-I'm sorry, I just...we don't see each other anymore and I'm scared you're losing feelings." Chan stared at you as he shook his head, you were the only woman he'd ever loved, the only woman he could ever see himself loving and he hated that you were doubting that. He'd been trying for months to tell you how deeply he felt for you, but nothing ever felt good enough for you.

Taking in a deep breath his eyes locked onto you, his emotions welling up inside of him as he began to speak, his voice coming out tender and with a sense of vulnerability.

"Yn, every single beat of my heart is a beat for you, my heart beats for the two of us every single day." You stared at him, whimpering a little as he took your hand in his, leading you over to the sofa and sitting you down.

The two of you stared at one another as you swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat and attempted to stop the bouncing of your leg.

"I've tried to put into words how much you mean to me, but every language I try seems to falter me. No words ever seem good enough to express how much I need you in my life." Your heart was beginning to beat so fast that you were almost afraid he would hear it from sitting so close to you.

"Every breath I breathe is infused with the essence of you, without you by my side, every inhale feels incompletely. Leaving me gasping for the very breath that carries your love." Tears began to well up inside of your eyes, your eyes staring into Chan's as you could have sworn you saw stars, and galaxies even as you watched him speak to you.

"You're the oxygen that keeps me going every single second of the day, you're the reason I keep going. I can't imagine a world where your laughter doesn't bring brightness to my world and pull me out of the darkest parts of my mind." His hand squeezes yours as he stares back at you, his tears beginning to roll down his cheeks,

"Where your touch doesn't linger on my skin leaving me tingling for days. I can't breathe without you. Without you, Yn, my lungs would cease to find relief, you are the air that completes me...You're the love of my life." As soon as he finished you grabbed him by the shirt and brought him into a kiss, starting light at first but almost immediately turning into a needy kiss.

"Channie." You breathed out against his lips, his arms wrapped around you tightly as he pulled you onto his lap, neither of you fighting against it as you mould against one another perfectly.

"I missed you so much." You whispered to him, biting his lip a little,

"Me too," He whispered as he pulled your shirt off, throwing it to the other side of the room as he began to kiss your exposed chest. The two of you had always had a great sex life, explosivie even and Chan was always an obsessive lover with you.

"Off," You whispered as you tugged on the shirt he was wearing, looking at him as he smirked at you. Chan liked it when you could get demanding with him even though he was always the one in charge.

"Off...Please," You added at the end before he ripped off his own shirt, throwing it in the same direction he'd thrown yours. Your lips connected once again as he trailed wet kisses down your neck, both of you stripping until there was nothing left between you.

"I need you," Cha gasps out as he holds his cock at your entrance, your hand gripping onto his shoulders as you slowly sink down onto him moaning out his name as you dug your nails into his skin.

"I've missed this...I-I've missed you, all of you." You moaned out, holding onto his bicep as your other hand tangled with his this time. It had been two long since the two of you had been together like this and it was all a bit much as tears began to trickle down your cheeks.

"Baby girl," He whispered as he realised you were crying and he stopped still, afraid he'd hurt you somehow or that you wanted to stop he was ready to do anything to stop you crying.

"Did I hurt you?" He panicked, his hand squeezing yours as you sniffled a little and shook your head, whimpering a little as you wiped the tears off your face and sniffled.

"I missed you, I missed us." You whispered, clenching around him as he let out a low grunt, his eyes finding yours as you felt your whole body heating up. You slowly moved your hips on him, letting him know it was okay for him to move again and he groaned your name softly,

"I missed you too baby, fuck, I love you." He moaned out as you slowly began to rise and fall against him, his cock stretching you out as you squeezed his hands.

"I love you," You moaned back as he began to rock your hips on him, biting down on his lip as he watched you closely.

"You were made for me, you fit me like a glove." He grunts as he stares at you, he wants no doubt in your mind that the two of you were meant for one another. He thrusts up to meet your hips as you let out a loud cry of his name.

"You're mine and I'm yours," He moans out as he continues to push into you, holding you steady as his cock drives into you repeatedly and roughly. Claiming you as his own as the sounds of your hips slapping against one another filled the quiet studio.

With every thrust Chan gave to You, you pushed back to him meeting him with every single stroke. Your fingers lacing together as he looked deep into your eyes, neither of you said anything as you moaned out. The two of you were linked in inextricable ways and there wasn't a single doubt left in your mind about that.

"O-Oh god, Chan," You moaned out as your eyes screwed shut, your grip on Chan's hand tightening more and more as you continued to ride his dick your movements getting a little sloppier but Chan supported you. Smirking as he continued to drive into you roughly,

"I-I'm going to-"

"Cum for me bab, come on my dick." He ordered as he drove into you, your body shattering around him as he continued to thrust into you wildly. Chan grunts lowly as your orgasm drives him over his own, moaning out your name as you slump against his chest and let out a small giggle. Chantried to prop himself up a little, breathing heavily from what might have been the most intense orgasm of his life.

"Shit," He breaths out against your neck, your skin prickling as you let out a small giggle.

"Yeah," You agreed, squeezing his fingers before looking down into his eyes as he chuckled a little neither of you moving from the spot you were in until you absolutely had to.

"Let's eat and then head home," He told you, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back as you nodded at him, curling your head into the crook of his neck and relaxing completely against him.

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