#(1) Have complete faith in the women in his life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months

Text

Running From The Flames {Epilogue 1/2}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: parenting - that should be a warning lmao, sexual themes

F1 Masterlist || Previous Chapter - Epilogue 2/2

There was only one word to describe my life and that word was: chaotic. That being said, I still wouldn’t change it for the world.

The family calendar on the fridge was completely full and colour coded so we could all see where we were needed on any given day. Even so, I still lost track of my husband or our kids at least once a week.

“Sydney, honey, have you seen your father?” I asked the spitting image of Pierre who was in the race simulator. He was always in the machine, practising for his upcoming debut into Formula 4 now that he had turned 15 and could move up from karting.

“Picking up Addie from the airport.” He barely looked away from the triplet of screens in front of him as he answered with all the attitude of a teenage boy being interrupted in life. “It’s on the fridge.”

I looked at the calendar and realised I was looking at the completely wrong day. “Shit.”

“Ha,” he laughed loudly as he navigated the virtual track of the Red Bull Ring. “You forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” I said as I scanned over the correct day and saw I had a board meeting to prepare for tomorrow. “I just thought it was Tuesday today.”

“Whatever you say, maman. You can tell me I’m your favourite, I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t have a favourite, I love you all equally. Now, can you finish that game and go do your homework? You still need to pack your bag for the weekend too.”

Addie was coming home from London for the week, taking a little break from her own busy schedule, to watch Sydney’s first race with us in Austria.

It had been difficult to let her leave home at 18 but she had worked hard to get a place in the Arsenal Women’s Under 21 team. I had left home at the same age and Pierre had left even earlier, so we were hardly the exemplary figures to deny her. All we could do was make sure she stayed safe and she knew she could call either of us 24/7 if she needed help. It was also never that long between visits, making plenty of stopovers in England as we travelled.

The travelling for work was tiresome but so far we had yet to miss a football match on Saturday or a karting race on Sunday. It did help being our own bosses so Pierre and I could manage our schedule around the kids. He had been running Strauss Fashion for the better part of the last ten years, after Granny finally retired properly, while I had been the Chief Technical Officer at Alpine, which Grandpa had purchased.

When Harry passed away three years ago I found myself suddenly thrust into the ownership of the team and though there were plenty of offers to sell it, I decided to take the leap of faith and see where the journey would take me. I hadn’t looked back and so far we had two Constructors' Championship wins with our seasoned pilots, Gabriele Minì and Oliver Bearman.

We had come so far, it was hard to believe until I saw the wisps of grey hairs among the dark strands.

“Maman!” I was pulled from my reminiscence and looked at my watch to realise how quickly the afternoon had gotten away from me as Clare bounded through the front door and leapt into my arms. “Maman, look!”

Clare had been a wonderful surprise that completed our family two years ago. After Sydney’s unexpected and frightening early arrival Pierre had been reluctant to try for another child, though he had always wanted three. I thought maybe he would change his mind after the terrifying memory faded with time but then a few years passed, we both got caught up in work, and after that it seemed too hard to imagine returning to sleepless nights with a newborn.

But, the universe had other plans for us. What I thought was a long-enduring hangover, after celebrating the rebranding of Alpine into Gasly Racing, actually turned out to be morning sickness. Those final weeks before her birth were stressful enough to send Pierre to his doctor for a vasectomy but thankfully her arrival went exactly to plan and he could breathe calmly once again.

“Hello my Clare-bear, wow, you have another bracelet.” You quirked an eyebrow at Charles as he arrived with Clare’s backpack on his shoulder and her spare carseat under his arm. “Uncle Charles has absolutely spoiled you.”

“Of course. A princess deserves it,” he stated proudly as he placed her belongings down and nodded his head to the simulator. “Is he all ready for the big day?”

“He is, I’m not sure I am,” I admitted as I put Clare down and she immediately went to interrupt Sydney by climbing onto his lap mid-race. If it was anyone else they would have received an earful but he just paused the game and listened as she told him all about her day at Uncle Charles’ house. “God help me when he gets to Formula One, I think I’ll have to revert the car back to a slower predecessor for my own sanity.”

Charles laughed but I wasn’t completely joking. The cars were so much faster than they were when he and PIerre raced. Though the safety features improved along with the technology that made them rockets on wheels it was still difficult to imagine putting my little boy inside one and sending it off.

“You could keep him as a reserve driver,” Charles offered before shaking his head at the thought and taking a seat at the kitchen island. “But he’s stubborn like his father, he’d just find another team to race for.”

“No way, I can at least trust my own team to keep him safe. Same goes for Marc.”

Charles chuckled at the mention of his son who at 8 years old he was already a junior karting champion. “He said someone called him Il Predestinato after his race last weekend.”

“Yikes, I’m sure they meant it in a good way.”

The front door opened again and Addie blew in with all the gusto of a tornado, whipping around the rooms to greet everyone before she was up the stairs to her old room. Entering a little more sedately was my husband, his arms laden with more suitcases than anyone needed for a week away, especially when she still had a wardrobe full of clothes upstairs.

“You are lucky you only have sons,” Pierre said to Charles as he kicked the door closed behind him. “I don’t work out enough anymore to be carrying this shit.”

He dropped the suitcases in front of the elevator and hit the call button rather than carrying them up the stairs before pushing them inside as the door opened. After a few bad winters, where not even the central heating could keep the aches of my bones at bay, Pierre had made the call for the elevator to be installed and it had been a godsend in moments like this when heavy items needed to make it to the floors above.

Sticking his head up the staircase he called out, “Addie, your entire life and everything but the kitchen sink is heading your way.”

“Thanks, dad!”

“What was that about?” I asked after he joined us in the kitchen while the coffee machine churned out our usual drinks. “I thought she outgrew the ‘I’m too cool to hangout with my parents’ phase.”

Pierre's lips pressed together and he took a seat next to Charles, picking up Clare who had left Sydney to return to his practice. “Elias.”

“Vettel?” Charles asked, his eyebrows lifting when Pierre nodded and pushed his mug away so Clare couldn’t reach the hot liquid.

“They have been out on a few dates, apparently. I’ll have to ask Davis about it, assuming he went with them, it’s not like it’s his job or anything. Did you know that?”

I shook my head at the news, cradling my mug in my hands as I leaned against the bench and wondered if she had ditched her bodyguard once again. “He’s a sweet boy from what I remember, much like his father.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t care who his dad is,” Pierre grumbled before repeating, “You are so lucky you only have sons, mate. Teenage girls are stressful.”

“Ah, but I have two boys who think it is funny to have a competition to see who can fart the loudest,” Charles said as he took a sip of his drink.

“I mean, that’s kind of funny,” Pierre said with a smirk.

Charles sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. “Not when one always pushes too hard to win.”

The sip I was taking went the wrong way and I spluttered as Pierre laughed, “It’s all shits and giggles, until someone giggles and shits.”

“To think my poor mother went through this too. Drives me insane, mate. Bet you’ve never had to worry about that?”

“Thankfully, no,” I answered after recovering from choking on coffee. “But it also wasn’t bad enough to stop you from having another.”

“And on that note, I should get going. Mia won’t let me back in the house if I don’t pick up her favourite carbonara on the way home.” He smiled as he thought of his wife’s pregnancy cravings. It was the same one she had when she was carrying Marc and Antonio so it came as no surprise at the gender reveal when the backyard was splattered with blue confetti. “Thank you for letting me borrow Clare.”

“Any time,” Pierre chuckled as he clapped his friend on the back. Charles had been busy reinstalling all the baby gates and safety locks in his home, despite the baby boy not even being born yet, and wanted a toddler to help test his craftsmanship. “I won’t complain about a little free babysitting.”

Charles placed his empty mug in the sink and before kissing the top of Clare’s thick wavy hair. “Bye petite chérie, I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye Uncle Charles,” she said with a wave, but it sounded more like Unk Cha and made him laugh as he approached the simulator.

I saw Sydney pause the race and Charles crouched down beside him, sharing a few quiet words of encouragement for the upcoming debut race. I couldn’t help feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many supportive people and my smile grew as a pair of arms wrapped around my waist.

I turned to meet his lips over my shoulder and the magnetism that attracted us was still evident even after 17 years. Of course, like any relationship, there had been times when stress led to arguments and I would find him hours later in a spare bed, wide awake because he couldn’t sleep without me beside him. Those fights never lasted long enough to even remember what they were about and forgiveness came easy.

I turned in my husband’s arms and draped mine around his neck to admire him. Pierre was truly like a fine wine. Age had made him even more handsome and the small wrinkles at the corners of his lips and eyes were a testament to a life that was full of smiles and laughter.

“Addie said she’ll watch the kids tonight,” Pierre whispered in my ear as he gently swayed to the melodic tune of his voice and I hummed with contentment. “And I got us a table at L'Ambroisie. You’ve been working so hard I thought we could do with a night away, just the two of us.”

“You think I don’t know your game, baby,” I whispered back, all too aware Charles was still chatting with Sydney and imparting some real world advice. “Wine and dine, pretty words, a hotel room. There’s only one thing you want.”

His lips curled into a smile against my cheek. “You know me too well.”

“You would actually get a full night’s sleep if you put your foot down.”

Pierre looked over at Clare who had helped herself to a banana from the fruit bowl and as if sensing she had been caught she looked up with an innocent smile. “How can I tell her no when she looks like that?”

“Mhmm, and that’s why she keeps climbing into our bed. You are a big softy.”

His smirk was flirty and fun as his arms tightened around me, pulling our bodies flush together. His breath was hot on my neck as he hid his face in the curtain of my hair. “Not tonight, ma femme. Tonight you will see just how hard I can be.”

Pierre backed up with a smirk but not before he sucked at the sensitive skin above my racing pulse. He knew exactly what he was doing and the smugness showed as he whistled a little tune on his way to help Clare peel the banana.

Shaking my head, I made my way to the stairs and said goodbye to Charles with the message to remind Mia that our plans for a spa day had been booked - but that didn’t mean he could slack off from the ankle massages he was giving her each night. He gave an amused salut but I didn’t see it as I pressed the button for the elevator. He was well used to the reminders by now, it wasn’t his first rodeo.

Knowing my evening plans had changed I went to my office and shut the door to silence the music drifting down the hall from Addie’s room. As CEO of Gasly Racing there was an endless stream of paperwork to be checked and signed, especially with the new expansion plan for the factory about to break ground. On top of that were the invites to attend fundraisers or speeches to prepare for the various charities I was ambassador for such as Women's Refuge.

When I finally emerged with my inbox up to date I could hear the laughter of all my children from where they lounged in front of the tv and the sound never ceased to make me smile. I had missed the sound since Addie moved out because it was rare to have all five of us here at the same time and I was reluctant to leave even for just one night when it came time to pack an overnight bag.

“We are allowed one night away, mon amour,” Pierre said as he stepped into the master bedroom to see me hesitating to step inside the wardrobe. “You and me, no interruptions.”

I relaxed into his embrace and sighed as he brushed my hair over one shoulder before kissing my collar. “And what were you planning that was so important it couldn’t be interrupted?”

His chuckle sent a shiver of delight down my spine and his fingers trailed down my ribs to the hem of my shirt before they slipped underneath the material to caress the soft skin over my stomach. I had to take a shaky breath when his thumbs caught the waistband of my skirt and I held it as I waited for them to hook underneath.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear and my lips parted in anticipation of his dirty words. “To sleep.”

“Huh?” I blinked twice, peeking over my shoulder to see his green eyes sparkling with amusement.

“To sleep. Why, what were you thinking?” He tried to look innocent but when he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and his hand slipped down beneath my skirt he let the truth show. “Did you want me to tell you how I am dying for a taste of you? How I can’t wait to have these sexy legs wrapped around me when I make love to you tonight? I don’t need to tell you, baby, I’ll show you.”

I knew he could feel how damp my panties were for him from the smirk on his face and I almost whimpered when he withdrew his hand from where I needed it. “Now pack your bag, and make it quick, I’m absolutely ravenous.”

I bit my lip at the depth of his tone and knew exactly what it was he was dying to taste. I didn’t even look at what I was packing, tossing the first items that touched my hands before he stopped me and grabbed one dress instead.

“This one,” he said as he held a colourful sundress that I rarely wore anymore, a soft smile warming his eyes. “It’s my favourite.”

Click here for the final chapter. 🥺

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife @prrttysposts @alwaysclassyeagle @dr3lover @adalynneva

#pierre gasly x poc!oc #pierre gasly x oc #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #running from the flames

178 notes · View notes

drakaripykiros130ac · 5 months

Text

I am realizing that Alicent is literally insane.

She doesn’t have the proper mannerism of a queen consort (and no wonder - she wasn’t supposed to be one in the first place).

She constantly screams, she gossips, she is vicious, she is aggressive towards her children, self-serious, self-righteous and she has crazy eyes (all the time).

She has deluded herself into thinking that what she is doing is right, and she actually couldn’t be more wrong.

Furthermore, in that crazy mind of hers, she is the one doing everything in the name of duty and sacrifice, while Rhaenyra doesn’t.

What exactly has she done that is so admirable? Her young body managed to pop out children - that’s her great accomplishment. And her so- called “duty and sacrifice” is having children with a heterosexual man she doesn’t love (her and like 90% of women in that Realm. I wonder what she would have done if she were married to a gay man like Rhaenyra was). Other than that, she hasn’t done anything worthy of respect. On the contrary:

1. She abused her power by protecting and promoting a murderer as her sworn shield.

2. Her parenting skills suck. She raised two malicious sons.

3. She went against the Faith’s principles, and married her only daughter to her eldest son for no other reason than to satisfy her political agenda (which resulted in Helaena being terribly mistreated. As if she doesn’t have enough issues already).

4. She took advantage of her husband’s illness and ruled in his stead. And she did a very poor job of it, as did her father. They ignored all the problems of the smallfolk, and focused solely on their personal ambitions.

5. She spent most of her life focussing on Rhaenyra’s life, mentally abusing her, and pursuing a vendetta against her children, instead of focussing on the little monsters she herself raised.

6. She constantly butts in on other people’s business.

7. She’s a terrible politician. Even Cersei was better than her. Just seeing the way her mind works at that Council meeting in episode 6, made me laugh. Just like Cersei, she has convinced herself that she is smart.

Alicent is a terrible person, but she is also already mentally ill (it’s clear foreshadowing for the future when she will succumb to complete madness). Not to mention, reckless and unstable.

Aside from her low standing, she obviously didn’t have the proper training/education or temperament to be a queen consort.

She and her House have brought nothing but trouble to the Crown. The Hightowers have a long history of being opportunists but they don’t have much to offer. And now, they expect some sort of payment…for being a bunch of thorns in people’s sides.

Alicent should have taken her crazy ass back home to Oldtown when she had her chance and taken those kids with her. They would have had a much greater chance of keeping their lives (which is pretty much all they deserve).

126 notes · View notes

doll-elvis · 7 months

Note

I’ve seen these photos of Priscilla on Pinterest and she looks so upset, do you know if there’s any back story behind these photos

hello and thank you very much for sending in this ask ꨄ︎!!

I’ve always been too distracted by that absolute unit of strawberry-blonde hair on Priscilla’s head to notice her expression but after closer observation I think you’re completely right in your assessment of her mood- sis was looking like she would rather be anywhere else 😭

after a quick google search and finding out that these photos were taken in April (sometime after the 23rd) of 1966, her expression started to make all the more sense

and not only is the date important for the context of these photos, but that unit of hair could also be very important

just a quick disclaimer: since Priscilla herself hasn’t spoken on these photos anything I say below is merely my own speculation as to why she may have looked upset on that day

To begin, according to Peter Guralnick's "Careless Love”, Elvis had just finished filming for his 22nd picture Spinout, in California, when he returned to Memphis with Priscilla on April 23rd. And so by knowing that they were photographed together in the meditation garden sometime in April, it’s safe to assume it was likely after the 23rd as they were in California for the weeks before

The film Spinout is relevant in this as 1. His costar was Shelley Fabares who he had a crush on 2. One of Elvis’ and Priscilla’s biggest arguments occurred during the filming of Spinout while they were in California and the cause of their argument was reason number one… Shelley Fabares

Both the Memphis Mafia and Shelley herself have confirmed that the relationship never went beyond anything platonic as she was faithful to her partner but nonetheless Elvis and her spent a lot of time together and formed a close bond

Naturally, Priscilla became suspicious that an affair was taking place and so she expressed to Elvis that she wanted to meet Shelley which then led to the first time that he had ever threatened get rid of her ⬇️

(read from left to right + click photos to see full text)

excerpt is from “Elvis and Me” by Priscilla Presley

(I believe this argument will appear in the upcoming film as Jacob Elordi says the line “I don’t have a goddamn thing to hide” in the recently released trailer)

No exact day was given for when this argument took place, it could have been the first week of filming or it could have been the last, but I would imagine having Elvis tell you to get all your things and leave would cause a lasting sort of sadness and have you questioning just how important you were to him even after going back to Memphis/Graceland

And this kind of thing actually happened a few times while they were together. Sonny West once said that Elvis’ greatest defense was offense meaning that if you were to approach him about something i.e Priscilla approaching him about his infidelities, Elvis’ response would be to turn the tables and put the pressure on you i.e telling Priscilla that he wanted her gone ⬇️

excerpt is from “Elvis: What Happened?” By Sonny and Red West, along with Dave Hebler

Another instance ⬇️

excerpt is from “Elvis and the Memphis Mafia” by Alanna Nash

Tbh as much as I love Elvis this is why I do hold a lot of sympathy for the friends and women in his life (even the ones I don’t personally like) because he tended to give ultimatums as a way to get what he wanted

“If you don’t like this, then leave… if you don’t want to do this, then leave…” and he did that because he knew most people would choose to stay

Now, the significance of that unit of strawberry blonde hair is purely speculative, but I'm wondering whether Priscilla started dyeing her hair that color to resemble Ann Margret as Elvis was quite melancholic over the fact that Ann and her boyfriend Roger Smith were spending so much time together during that time, infact, they were engaged just 2 months later in June of 1966

The affair between Ann Margret and Elvis lasted only a year after they met while filming Viva Las Vegas, so it doesn't make much sense that Priscilla would start dying her hair strawberry-blonde 3 years later (although she did try to emulate Ann in 1963) but it could be possible, and knowing that Elvis was still thinking about Ann Margret in April of 1966 would definitely be enough to make her upset at the time

What do y’all think?

#priscilla presley #priscilla #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis history #elvis fans #elvis photos #60s Elvis #elvis asks #elvis and priscilla

118 notes · View notes

cdragons · 10 months

Text

Truce Part 1

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Pairing(s): Ikaris x Persephone!Reader ft. Druig x Hecate!Reader Word Count: 2.7k Prompt/Summary: Ikaris and Druig have a discussion about the women in their lives (AKA: Ikaris is an idiot who thinks your best friend is a demon, and Druig is super in love with said demon). Warning: Slight mentions of death (no major characters tho), neurodivergent reader is neurodivergent, Hecate!Reader bestie is her own warning Note: Thank you to everyone who takes the times to read my writing even through it is likely way too self-indulgent to be considered in-character! Special thank you to the most amazing and incredible beta editor in the world, @valeskafics! If you have not, please go check her works! She mostly does HOTD, GOT, anything Ewan Mitchell, and literally EVERYTHING she writes is incredible!

It was safe to say that Ikaris was a confident individual.

This was a fact that applied to many aspects of his life.

He was confident in his abilities as an Eternal. He was confident in his faith in both his leader Ajak, and the Celestial that created him and his team members, Arishem. He was especially confident in his capability as a leader. This included carrying out missions, eliminating Deviants, and saving and “caring” about the fragile humans’ lives.

No matter what Druig implied.

But the one thing he could not say he was completely 100% confident about… was… understanding how he placed amongst the rest of the Eternals.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t well-liked or even appreciated… but… he didn’t exactly know how some members “felt” about him.

He was more than well-received by certain members – Kingo and Sprite are the first Eternals that come to mind. He had earned the respect and trust of most of the group – as was shown by the trust Ajak put on him, along with the close bond he shared with Sersi. Thena and Gilgamesh certainly respected him as a fighter – but they never idolized him. In their eyes, he was more of a younger brother that they could share a drink and trade banter. He was on amicable terms with Makkari. Phastos and him never particularly bonded with each other, but the latter still trusted Ikaris’ judgement.

With Druig and Katelyn, both outright dismissing him most of the time –

No…that was putting it lightly…

Take the words “outright dismissed him,” and replaced them with “liked to act like bratty little shits and make him look like a fucking idiot;” along with the words “most of the time,” and replace them with “since they all left the goddamn Domo.”

…But he had no idea where he stood with you.

Sephia, the Eternal blessed by Arishem with the ability of absolute control of plants and the Earth. While Sersi made efforts to connect with the humans, you almost did everything in your power to avoid them. But no matter how you tried to avoid them, humans always adored you. They longed to catch a quick glimpse of the beautiful being that brought them aid whenever their crops were unable to bear fruit.

It was not only your powers that attracted them to you, but also the image you presented yourself to them. You were…heaven-sent – is how the humans saw you. Although fairly quiet, it was obvious to him that you were brilliant. Not only that, but you were fairly regimented in your diligence to your duties- something Ikaris greatly appreciated in a team member. You and Sersi worked together to only present them with their new crops, explain the various uses that would fit their lifestyle, show them how to properly harvest the crops and take a section of the seeds to replant, and then demonstrate how to properly plant them in a way that would yield the best results.

…It also helped how the sun would bring out that lovely flush to your skin in your demonstrations.

To them, your kindness and shy demeanor… along with your overwhelming beauty that was only further brought out from your flowing pink tunic with green twining and brass patterns… presented the very image of a Springtime Maiden.

You carried out your duties flawlessly, and always with so much efficiency that you always managed to have more than enough free time to go off on your little adventures to study the wildlife you had not created. You were curious as to how certain natural environments resulted in different lifestyle choices. You insisted that in studying the world around them, you would be able to better understand the humans’ lifestyle. A thought that was supported by Ajak whole-heartedly.

And it wasn’t only your duties to the humans that you carried out well – you even used your ability to control the plants that surrounded you to attack Deviants in desperate times. Sprite would spin tales of how the Sweet Spring Maiden Sephia could turn a little flower into a giant vine that could pierce through the skull of any deviant that came your way.

You were…different. That wasn’t to say you were strange…if anything…your differences made you…charming. Admittedly, he hadn’t paid much attention towards you at the beginning as he was initially attracted to Sersi’s kind demeanor. But he would always see you with her, and she would always insist on the two of you bonding. Your encounters with one another were awkward to say the least. But soon, he genuinely bonded with you…

Now, you were just the most fucking adorable being in the universe; which brought up the dire need to know where he stood in your life.

He just hoped that your “guardian angel” wasn’t with you at the moment.

“Well,” thought Ikaris, “demon would be a more accurate term in describing her.”

Kaetlyn was a different topic of conversation to say the least. Simply put, her abilities allow her to manipulate shadows and darkness. In battle, she would first scope out any areas that had Deviants to gain any information that would be an advantage. She would do this by either sending her shadows out, or just traveling through any shadows herself. Ikaris loathed to admit it, but her affinity for intelligence-gathering was far superior than the rest of them. Not only that, but she was a more than capable fighter. She would aim her dark arrows to the Deviant’s weakest point, and let the shadows embedded in it sink into their bodies to tear them from the inside out.

After its confirmed death, she would use her shadow portals to transport them to her personal laboratory at the Domo to “study” their anatomy and physiology. And if that wasn’t enough, Ajak just- just- ALLOWS IT! Even going so far as to ask for your assistance at certain times!

Ajak was one matter – after all, the Prime Eternal served as a maternal figure to everyone, including him – but he was more shocked at your eager involvement in the dark assassin’s hobbies. He could never forget how brightly you smiled when you ran towards him in excitement at your realization that encasing the decaying specimens in a mixture of various alcohol solutions and formaldehyde created a much more effective embalming methods than encasing it in an alcohol solution with herbs and spices.

You went on for hours about how you discovered the gas during one of the fires that nearly destroyed the village a few months back. Luckily very few of the villagers died, but you noticed how the victims who only died through exposure to the smoke decomposed much slower than normal. You then ended up trying to explain the process of precipitating the gas into a liquid solution, along with how to properly categorize it so that it wouldn’t be accidentally ingested. You and he ended up talking for so long that you ended up completely missing the feast held in celebration of the harvest that year. Ajak was quite cross with the both of you – Ikaris especially since he is usually so punctual with social engagements – but how could he be upset after having hours of your sole attention? You too were not put off by your leader’s slight scolding. On the contrary, you were more than relieved considering how much you hated these events.

You were kind and thoughtful; she was argumentative and crass. You were radiant brilliance; she was unhinged madness. You brought light and its hopeful beginnings; she oozed out darkness and all its mad chaos. You were life; she was death. So why did you latch onto her as if she was your only tether to the ground?

…You were being controlled by her- that had to have been it. Ikaris refused to believe that someone as wonderful and kind as yourself would willingly subject themselves to that-that-that- hell spawn!

“Y’know,” an annoyed voice broke his thoughts, “I’d really appreciate it if you’d didn’t call the love of my life a ‘hell spawn’.”

“For the love of Arishem,” thought Ikaris, “anyone but him.”

Taking a deep breath, he turned to find Druig.

“And I’m more than certain that our sweet Sephia wouldn’t exactly be ecstatic in knowing how you referred her very favorite person in the world that particular term either.” The mind controlling Eternal finished off with that damned trademark smirk of his.

Gods, Ikaris wanted nothing more than to shove that face a thousand feet in the ground right now. But he didn’t want to afford to lose his temper now. Not when he still hoped to find you.

“Pretty sure Ajak made it a rule for you not to use your powers on your fellow Eternals,” he snapped, “considering your habit of using it on the humans already.”

“Please,” he quipped back, “you’re the one pacing and muttering like a mad man in the middle of the courtyard.” He slightly cocked his head to the side in a facetious manner, “Anything I could help with?”

Ikaris didn’t want to tell Druig his plans…he wanted less for Druig to know about his plans with you. But Druig was close to you…even only through mutual association by Kaetlyn.

“Why are Sephia and Kaetlyn friends?” He blurted out.

“…Seriously?” Druig asked, “that’s what making act so crazy?”

“Just answer the damn question Druig.”

“…Why do you want to know?” The mind controller asked, very sure he wasn’t going to like Golden Boy’s response, but felt it necessary for his own peace of mind.

“…It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Excuse me?” His tone was growing colder with each passing second.

“Druig, I understand that you are incapable of being objective towards your… lover,” Ikaris started, “but even you have to admit you found their friendship to be unusual?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Druig answered, “I happen to think my angel as a lovely individual. A sentiment also agreed on by most members of the team- even your biggest fan Kingo adores her. Unconventional views? Maybe. Relentless tenacity? Absolutely. But that is exactly the foundation my beautiful Kaet’s adoration of Sephia, and vice versa.”

“I don’t- wait- I don’t understand?” Ikaris interrogated the besotted Eternal, “All she does is question Ajak’s authority, and commit senseless acts of childish rebellion! How does that lead to her being close with someone -”

Druig’s blank stare was almost terrifying.

“What Ikaris?” he asked, “Someone like Sephia? And how do you see our Sephia? Someone dutiful? Beautiful? Kind? Sweet? Perfect? How wretchedly mundane and so very one-dimensional- even for you.”

“That’s not it,” Ikaris was getting angry, “stop putting words in my mouth-”

“It’s not exactly a hard thing to do with you, my friend. But you and Sephia aren’t particularly close. She may be cordial with you, but she’s like that with everyone. So why the interest?”

“…I know that…Sephia is considered…different,” Ikaris began, “from a behavioral standpoint – but- tha- that’s not- I don’t think of her any less because of it.” This was much harder than he expected.

Druig lifted one of his eyebrows, signaling for the taller Eternal to continue.

“I like her ‘quirks’ – I can’t say I understand what they are, but – I know that-that they are a part of her, and not in a way that her powers are hers. But I also know that, that they don’t make up who she is as a whole.” Why was his throat closing up? “And…I like that she sees me.”

“…Yeah, no shit genius, it’s not like you can turn invisible. Believe me, not seeing your face would be a great improvement to my life.”

Ikaris scowled while turning so he could fly far from the black-clad armored telepath, “Forget it, I don’t know why I thought to share this with you of all people-”

“You don’t feel judged around her, is that it?”

Ikaris stopped, and once more faced Druig. The shock on his face was almost hilarious…if only Druig wasn’t about to completely expose himself at the moment, then he could at least properly enjoy the dumbfounded look on Ikaris’ face.

“Do you feel like you can talk to her about anything? That you could trust someone with something so humiliating? And then you’re angry because once you actually said those, you’ve realized that you’ve given someone full ammunition of yourself for them to use against you?”

The silence between the two powerful immortals was stifling.

“But then time passes,” Druig continues on, “and even after you pushed them away, they still accept you. Because they saw you, not an image other people projected on to you. And despite all reason, they decided to stand beside you.”

Ikaris’ eyes were bulging out of his head, “How- how did you know-?”

“I know, because I’ve been there,” Druig’s eyes softened just a tad, “with Kaety.”

…What?

“…Well, if you’re so curious about their companionship, I suppose the best way would be to ask directly from the source.” Druig reasoned as he pointed his head to two figures walking towards them.

You, in a soft white tunic with a long pink skirt with some brass jewelry. Today, you decided to let your hair loose with a few braids. Ikaris thought it was a bit curious on how you detested the humans’ worship of you, yet you still preferred their clothing options as opposed to your armor that showed your Olympian origins. However, armor or not, you still glowed a soft and heavenly aura unique only to you. You were in deep conversation with Kaetlyn, who wore a simple white linen dress with a patterned dark blue border skirt and a silver chained belt, and styled her hair in a loose braid.

Noticing the figures in front of them, Kaetlyn immediately pulled a look of just absolute disgust at the realization that Ikaris of all people was interrupting her peaceful day. Curious to your friend’s strange reaction, you turned your head and let out a warm smile and waved enthusiastically to the two men. You were well-aware of your friend’s distaste of the taller Eternal, but he was always kind with you. Besides, if you could occasionally put up with Kingo’s hubris, Kaety could certainly tolerate Ikaris’ company for a few moments.

Druig stepped in view, and Ikaris saw how quickly your feral companion’s expression changed at the sight of her lover. She lightly jogged to meet him in the middle as she threw her arms around his neck. Looking the strange sight, Ikaris noted that when she genuinely smiled, she looked almost…approachable? Druig took Kaetlyn in his arms, and the two pressed their lips together in a tender kiss. And just like that, the spell was broken and Ikaris was inwardly cringing from disgust as he turned his head away from the sight.

As a result, he was unable to see Druig lean forward and softly whisper to her ear of the plight that their mutual grey-streaked hair irritation was experiencing. Wanting to dismiss it immediately, Kaetlyn recalls all the times your cheeks lightly flushed in Ikaris’ company. And despite her obvious distaste for the man, she could tell that he at least wanted to genuinely understand her best friend. And she was more than positive that you were feeling “something” for him; however unaware you were of it yourself. Taking pity on the man, she walked over to you and explained how Druig wanted to explore the area for hidden caves. As a result, you and her would have to continue your discussions of how to properly develop the Punica granatum and its nutritional benefits for expectant mothers at another time. But luckily, Ikaris would be more than happy to escort you back to the Domo.

Before walking away, Ikaris felt a sharp pinch to his side, and looked down to find Kaetlyn’s shadow pinching his? Annoyed, he looked up to reprimand her, but his blood ran cold meeting the shadow Eternal’s gaze.

“Do anything that causes her discomfort,” her eyes seemed to shout, “and I will make your own shadow tear you apart bit by bit.” Quickly turning her head, the dark wisps quickly reattached themselves to their mistress. And the two Eternals were left alone with only themselves for company.

Looking back at you as you basked in the daylight, its golden light only enhancing the glow from your softness. Ikaris had only one thought in his head as he tries his damnedest to not reach out and press your suppleness against his hard frame.

“Fuck.”

Tagging: @its-actually-minicika, @spacetalbot, @siempre-bucky, @beananacake, @ethereal-athalia

#ikaris x reader #marvel eternals #marvel x reader #druig x reader #eternals x reader #ikaris imagine #druig imagine #marvel mcu #mcu x reader

85 notes · View notes

holysaintscathedral · 1 year

Text

Books for the Hierophile #2

A continuation of the first list. Once again, all titles here are a variety of het, MLM, and WLW romance and erotica and may be purchased in most major in-person and online book sellers in either physical and/or digital form. Everything is listed in alphabetical order and a synopsis.

A Leap of Faith by Mel Gough - South Africa, 1953 – Father Daniel Blakemore is happy on his missionary secondment in a small, rural Providence Hospital on the Eastern Cape. Being away from England makes it easier for him to conceal his homosexuality – a secret that would destroy everything he’s ever worked for.But when Doctor Eddie Raleigh takes up his new position at Providence, the two men are instantly drawn to one another. Their liaison represents both Daniel’s deepest desire and his worst nightmare. If the archdeacon in London learns of his true nature, Daniel’s life in the church will be over.Broken-hearted, Daniel breaks things off with Eddie. And to get away from his sorrows, he leaves his beloved missionary work behind, and returns to Stepney, London.Will time and distance alleviate Daniel’s pain, or will happiness be forever elusive? Or will love, finally, find a way?An evocative tale of love, fear and duty, set against the backdrop of the nineteen fifties, with the emergence of apartheid in South Africa and the criminal nature of homosexuality in the UK.

Blow Me Father, For I Have Sinned (4 part series) by Dirty Mary - This collection of erotic shorts (1. Bad Habits, 2. The Good Wife, 3. Confession, and 4. The Bride) feature various women and their encounters with priests, nuns, and sin. Only available in eBook Format.

Broken Vows by MJ Williamz - Sister Mary Margaret has been a devout nun for twenty years and has never questioned her devotion to the calling. But when she develops a crush on one of her parishioners, Maryann Foster, the passion between them is irresistible and her vow of celibacy isn’t enough to keep them apart. But can she love both Maryann and the Church? She prays for an answer, only to question whether God has truly given her a sign or if she is just afraid to leave the only real home she has ever known. Mary Margaret must reconcile her divided heart or risk losing a love that just might be heaven sent.

Billionaire's Sins: A Forbidden Hot Priest Romance By L. Steele - Part of Big Bad Billionaires series. Father Edward Chase. Brooding. Growly. And... unavailable. He's the hot priest. I am a belly dancer. He's haunted by his past. I am trying to carve out a future for my studio. He’s at war with himself, and I am the casualty. There is nothing he will put before his calling. No stone he will leave unturned for his flock. He’ll never give in to the attraction between us, So what if he stars in all my dreams? He may be a man of God. But for me, he is temptation personified. Making him fall for me is all I ever wanted. Until he reveals his secret.

Cardinal Sins: Seducing the Priest by Liz Steel - “I was never the church going, confessing type—until the hottest priest in a ten state radius showed up. I have to have him. I just need to get him out of his priestly robe…and into his pants. I knew he isn't exactly a saint. But can I pull it off? Will he commit cardinal sins with me? I have to find out. And I'm going to.”

Confessions: Justin’s Penance, Lust and Ecstasy by Luke Jameson - "It can't be wrong if he's a priest." Now, in one complete volume, is the love story between a priest struggling with his beliefs, and his student who goes to great lengths to justify his growing attraction for another man. Justin's Penance tells the story of how Mateo and Justin first meet, and how their explosive attraction forces them apart. In Justin's Lust, our lovers reunite at a monastery in the mountains of Virginia. Both men have taken vows to the church, but as you'll discover, promises are often broken. After an illicit encounter, Justin flees the monastery, praying to a God who isn't listening. In Justin's Ecstasy, Mateo is devastated, and goes to a strange city in search of the man who claimed his heart. Will Justin return Mateo's feelings, or will his promises to the church keep true love apart? Two men are destined to be together, and the only things holding them apart are the vows they have made to the church. Will love win, or will their beliefs be their undoing?

Cardinal Sinner (Divine Domination Book 2) by Megan Michaels - Eliska Petrova grew up as a good Catholic girl in Prague, attending Catholic school, even obtaining a job in the Vatican City working for the Cardinals in the Apostolic Palace. She couldn’t imagine anything better than her job in Rome. That is, until she met the tall, dark, and handsome Cardinal Petr. The problem wasn’t that he was her boss and mentor. The problem was that she was helpless to resist her desire for him. Realizing her deep-seated, dark fantasies of pain and pleasure, power and submission/surrender with a prominent Cardinal seemed like a recipe for disaster. But that hadn’t stopped her from diving in anyway. Her temper got her into trouble with the Petr – often – and he had very creative ways of tamping down her fiery ways, the least of which was an old fashioned, bare bottom spanking. Petr Novak had studied underground in oppressive, Communist ruled Prague, even completing and receiving his doctorate in secret. The Pope ordained him as a Bishop in St. Vitus Cathedral once the Iron Curtain had crumbled, and he’d begun working his way up the ranks of the Roman Catholic Church, becoming a Cardinal in Rome. He’d never planned on falling in love with the young flaxen-haired Czech beauty. Her fire called to him though, and he couldn’t deny himself – even if that very fire threatened to consume them both. How could she commit to a man who had his eye on becoming Pope? Would she be enough – or too much? Could they find happiness with each other and the Church?

E Pluribus Unum Book 1 - Lesbian Lust By Rowan Buchanan-Brown - 1621....Sister Benedetta is very sick. She has become plagued with demonic hallucinations; all telling her she will rot in Hell. As ministers from the government arrive at her convent to investigate; they uncover a secret relationship she has been having with a fellow Sister....2006....Marcia and Naomi are two lovers who stumble upon a dark cult when on holiday in the Amazon Rainforest. Though they escape to civilisation again, they bring back an ancient evil with them, the same evil which plagued Sister Benedetta and which threatens to turn all the women on Earth to its own wicked ways....

Emily and the Priest by Selena Kit - Her first year away from home has been a disaster for shy, awkward Emily, falling in with the wrong crowd, just trying to fit in with the other girls. When Mark, the campus psychologist, takes her under his wing, she's more than grateful, and under his tutelage, Emily blossoms into ripe, luscious fruit, just ready to be plucked. By the time Mark realizes his mistake, it's too late--Emily has fallen for him, and he for her. God help them both. Available only in Kindle and eBook Editions. Part of the Power Play series.

For I Have Sinned: A James Bay Novel by Kathleen Irene Paterka - Cursed or Blessed? A Man of God Must Make a Choice...Father Greg, a Catholic priest and recovering alcoholic, took a vow of obedience at his ordination-but thirty years later, that Roman collar chafes his neck. His love for God is not in doubt, but the same can't be said for his faith in the church. After a young interracial couple joins his parish in the small exclusive resort community of James Bay, Michigan, Father Greg finds himself waging a fierce battle fighting parishioners' prejudices. When an attractive widow from the parish joins hands with him to befriend the young couple, the problems only escalate-and so do the rumors about a romance. Caught up in a war with church leaders and his own guilty conscience, Father Greg is trapped. He's good at standing up for others, but now he needs to learn how to stand up for himself. It's the only way he'll become the man he was always meant to be-with or without the Roman collar. Part of James Bay series but can be read independently.

For I Have Sinned by Alex Grayson - “Twelve years ago, I vowed to stay celibate when I gave my life to the church. For twelve years, I've kept that vow, and not once have I been tempted to veer away from it. Until she walked into my life. Jersey, the homeless girl who sneaks into my church to steal food. From the moment I first saw her, something about her called to me. She was sent to tempt me down a sinful path, and I have no hope of denying her. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” A Part of the Itty Bitty Delights series but can be read independently.

For I Have Sinned by Dakota Rebel - “I’ve never been much for church or religion or faith of any kind really. So I never expected to become friends with a priest. And I certainly didn’t expect to fall for one. I spent most of my life pretending that I was a good son, a good brother, a good man, in an attempt to earn my parents’ approval. And now I’m just tired of pretending. Because the closer Father Luke Stone and I get to one another, the harder it becomes to deny the attraction between us. I’m not sure if he’s fighting it, too, or if he honestly doesn’t feel it. He says he wants to save my soul. But I can’t help wondering. Am I even worth saving?” Available only in Kindle Edition.

Fuck Me Father, For I Have Sinned by Naomi Ace - Warning: This 3500 word shorty story is for adults only and features delicious and vivid interactions between three consenting priests. Available in only in eBook format.

Fall Into Temptation: A Forbidden Romance Between a Naive Catholic Girl and a Transitional Deacon by Katy Fox - She’s a naive catholic girl. He's a transitional deacon. Will they succumb to the wild flames of passion? Christie Hart is raised by strict catholic parents who never let her have her freedom. But when she finally goes to Britain to attend her aunt’s wedding, she falls hopelessly in love with Vincent Knight. Fantasizing over a hot downright sexy transitional deacon? Terrible idea. But Christie can't help it. There are many rules a transitional deacon can't break. A transitional deacon cannot marry. A transitional deacon cannot abandon his flock. Vincent has always been good at following rules until Christie shows up and turns his world upside down. Can they overcome the temptation or will they fall deep into it? Find out how this totally unputdownable forbidden steamy romance ends.

For Love of God by Robin Reardon - It’s Manhattan, 1983. The Rocky Horror Picture Show is going strong at the 8th Street Playhouse. HIV/AIDS is still called “the gay plague.” The Twin Towers still stand tall. And Spencer Hill is convinced God has called him to the Episcopal priesthood. There’s just one problem. He’s gay. Determined to stay the course, Spencer avoids Donald Rainey, a young actor he’s attracted to. Then he tries dating a woman, another candidate at General Theological Seminary. Then, as a last resort, he considers a life of chastity. His attempts to deny his orientation fail, and he has a crisis of faith that nearly sends him over the edge. He’s saved by an insightful therapist and by his relationship with Donald, which he can no longer avoid. Then his life is in disarray again when Donald’s life takes a religious turn Spencer cannot accept, and he must find a path where there is no conflict between God and gay.

Grace but No Mercy by Lynn Cooper - “My name is Father Troy Hampton. From the time I was old enough to talk, my words came out as prayers. My life belongs to the church. It’s true that I’m nothing more than a mortal man made up of all the same parts as other men. However, through my devotion and unwavering commitment to Christ, I have been able to resist that which is carnal. I never succumb to the natural, sometimes overpowering yearnings and desires that rampantly pulse through the veins of all mankind. Daily, I rebuke all that is unholy. I cling to my vestments, resisting all fleshly pleasures. Forsaking all others for Him. Until her.”

Heathens (Heathens Series Book 1) by Amanda Richardson - Lily Damewood is trying (and failing) to claw her way out of her dark memories. Her weekly visit to Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris is supposed to be a way to help her move forward, even though she’s far from the praying type. She catches the eye of Salem Tempest, a seminary student at Notre Dame. When an unlikely friendship forms between them—followed by a white hot attraction they desperately try to ignore—a revelation shakes them both to their core. Lily and Salem soon find themselves connected in powerful and unexpected ways. Turns out, Lily isn’t the only heathen, and Salem is just the right person to stoke the fire within her, despite his sacred vow of celibacy.

Her Priest (Divine Domination Book 1) by Megan Michaels - Divorced and working in Amsterdam as a reporter, Chelsea never dreamed that opening a simple social media account could bring the love of her life back to her. Especially when she still isn’t convinced she was his first love. Despite being his devoted submissive—in all things—she’d let him slip through her fingers—and paid the price of ten years of yearning for him. But could an independent, strong-minded woman be just as accepting of his dominance now? A dream one quiet night in college had shown Emerson his true calling. And that calling meant leaving his girlfriend, his lover. His soul mate. But now he’d found Chelsea again, that calling seemed a world away, his need and his lust for her as overpowering as the first day he’d laid eyes on her. He has to have her kneeling at his feet once more. Even if that means leaving the priesthood. His decade long sojourn has changed him in ways he’d never expected. And now he has his Chelsea under his dominion once more, she is going to find he is even more demanding than he was as a young man. Ten years in a position of power have left him with a taste for commanding obedience. And he intends to exercise that power on his yielding, submissive soul mate. She’s won him back, but is she ready for the new Emerson? Is she ready for his particular brand of religion-tinged, taboo kink?

Lead Me Not: A Gay Christian Romance by Ann Gallagher - Isaac Morris has devoted his life to preaching against the sin of homosexuality. But when his sister proposes a documentary to demonstrate once and for all that it’s a choice—with Isaac choosing to be gay as proof—he balks. Until he learns his nephew is headed down that perverted path. Isaac will do anything to convince the teenager he can choose to be straight…including his sister’s film. When Isaac’s first foray into the gay lifestyle ends with a homophobic beating, he’s saved and cared for by Colton Roberts, a gentle, compassionate bartender with a cross around his neck. Colton challenges every one of Isaac’s deeply held beliefs about gay men. He was kicked out by homophobic parents, saved from the streets by a kind pastor, and is now a devout Christian. Colton’s sexuality has cost him dearly, but it also brought him to God. As the two grow closer, everything Isaac knows about homosexuality, his faith, and himself is called into question. And if he’s been wrong all along, what does that mean for his ministry, his soul, his struggling nephew—and the man he never meant to love?

The Lake Michigan Affair by JacquelIine Thomas - Rosalie fell into her life, a life she didn’t want. She met Richard, her brilliant surgeon husband, and fellow Catholic as a teenager. One night in the back of Richard’s car, her fate was sealed, to be Mrs. Richard Russo. Her strong Catholic family, where faith dictates all actions, left Rosalie no other choice but to marry Richard, a man who she did not love. Rosalie’s life looked perfect from the outside, the brilliant surgeon husband, a tight-knit Catholic community in Chicago, and friends. One evening in the halls of the Field Museum, she meets the man who will change her life forever, Catholic Bishop Sebastian Cole. The Lake Michigan Affair is a story of a woman finding true love, learning who she is, attempting to flee an abusive marriage, and ultimately risking it all to be with the man she loves. Set in a tight-knit, Italian-American neighborhood on Chicago’s Northside, tradition, religion, and culture collide. The Lake Michigan Affair looks at love, not what it is supposed to be, but how raw and powerful it can be and the force it has on the lives of Rosalie’s community.

My Priest, My Husband by Deede Kress- Last night Alaina agreed when Fr. Ryan said they were an exception to the law of celibacy. But this morning she admitted she was a mere woman involved in a forbidden love affair but Ryan was no mere lover. Unwilling to give him up, how could she compete against God?

The Priest's Virgin Sinner: A Taboo Erotic Short (Her Forbidden Men Book 2) By J. C. Hardin - “I never used to be this person. I never used to have these shameful desires. I was an innocent 19-year-old who went to college while living at home with my family. I went to church every Sunday like you're supposed to. I kept myself away from boys and tried to be a good girl. I never used to be this type of person. However, things changed. Dark desires grew within me. I thirsted hard for my family's priest. It wasn't supposed to happen. But it has. Now, the only thing I want is for this holy man to show me just how unholy this world could be.” Available only in Kindle and eBook Editions.

The Priest and the Prodigal by S. Adam - Only available in Kindle Edition, The Priest and the Prodigal: A Story of Taboo Love" suggests a narrative that revolves around a forbidden romantic relationship between a priest and a prodigal. The title immediately sets up a power dynamic between the two characters, with the priest being in a position of authority and the prodigal being a rebellious figure. The use of the term "taboo" implies that their love is considered socially unacceptable or morally wrong, adding an element of danger and risk to their relationship. The title also suggests a story of redemption, as the prodigal character may be seeking forgiveness and guidance from the priest. Overall, the title suggests a dramatic story of love, morality, and the consequences of going against societal norms and religious teachings.

Pleasing the Pastor by Daisy Jane - “The Pastor looks enormous behind that podium. Almost Godly. He looks at me like I'm unexplored territory and his life's dream is exploration. When I look at him, I’m mesmerized. But you can't fall for your Pastor ten years your senior... can you?”

The Priest and the Princess by Kathryn Kaufmann - She prayed to find Mr. Right… but this has to be wrong.Is asking for a commitment-minded man too much? Laura Daniels didn’t think so, but after wasting too many years on too many losers she’s giving up hope. That is until a chance encounter with a childhood friend sparks some new feelings. He’s exactly the kind of man she wants: sweet, funny, handsome… Except Heaven help her, he’s a priest—the new interim priest at her church. Worse, despite his vow, he has feelings for her and struggles with the pain-staking guilt of believing she could be his one true love, while Laura’s heart is torn between her lifelong love for God and her newfound love for Father Carl. It will take nothing short of a miracle to find a happy ending.

Priest: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance By Flora Ferrari - Stand alone novel in A Man Who Knows What He Wants series, available only in Kindle and eBook Editions. “Coming out of the jungle after almost twenty years, I’m not grappling with my faith as I reconsider my future in the priesthood, it's a different sort of calling. Something I don’t even know yet, until I meet her. I’m not grappling with my faith, but I’m sure as hell gonna be grappling with my Grace. In the horizontal position, if I’ve got anything to do with it. Her dad Carl is my best friend, we grew up together and he’s saved my ass so many times it hurts to think I’m breaking his heart by loving his daughter, but that fresh calling I got? The one that drew me from the jungle, it all makes sense as soon as I see her, and I know, right there and then that she’s my woman and I have to make a family of my own with her. Starting right now.”

The Priest by Erin Pim - When a good-hearted young woman becomes stressed at her workplace, she ends up doing things she regrets. Unhappy with her immoral actions, she decides to visit the one person she knows can set her back on the right path: a male dominatrix known only as ‘The Priest’. This mysterious character advertises an ability to purge women of their sins - exactly what our woman needs. Available in Kindle Edition.

Priest: True Love by Pamela White - Father Daniel is unlike any man Kelly Hall has ever met; while she struggles to adjust to her federal detention at Carlyle. But even within the mysteries surrounding events leading to her sentence, and her wayward boyfriend still living at home, a growing affinity for the priest of Carlyle church mass cannot be avoided forever. Father Daniel, who has been the priest over Carlyle church mass for two years, is stricken with an attraction for Kelly Hall. When the beautiful young woman begins working for him in the chapel, Father Daniel feels drawn to her and despite his protest, is weakening in withholding himself from the attraction between them.

Playing With Her Priests by S. E. Law - When Pastors Jordan and Jason stepped up to the pulpit, the breath caught in my throat. These were the new pastors at the Village Church? The men had perfect lips, tattoos swirling up their forearms, and cocky, knowing smiles that made my heart race. In fact, all the female congregants let out a collective sigh when Pastors Jason and Jordan got up to preach. But Jason and Jordan are no average men of the cloth. The two handsome priests are godliness personified, yet with a taste for sin. Book 3 of the Playing With Them series, available only in Kindle and eBook Editions.

The Priest’s Lover: A Romance by Maria Avery - On the surface, 19 year old Jessica is demure, shy, and retiring - the very image of what a good Catholic girl should be. But the holier-than-thou teen has been in love with Father Damon for as long as she can remember, and she's convinced that if she can light the fire of passion within him, his desire will turn him away from his holy devotion and towards her. As his lust turns blossoms into love, it the relationship is threatened by Jessica's jealous best friend who uses blackmail to get what she wants. Available in Kindle Edition.

Priest’s Curves: Curvy Girl Romance by Kelsie Calloway - “Ten years ago, my best friend and high school sweetheart left me to become a priest. He says he came back to town to change lives, but I know it's because of me. I'll bring this priest to his knees. Sorry, daddy, I've been bad.Or whatever it is you say in the confessional.” Book 11 in the Curvy Girl of the Month Club series but can be read independently. Only available in Kindle Edition.

Rebel Priest by Adrianne Leigh - A priest is expected to protect his flock, observe a strict vow of celibacy, and honor his vow to God. “I've always been good at obeying the rules. And then she came.With her, I'm eager to desecrate every sacrament. One filthy taste of pleasure and pain--one stolen touch of heavenly blasphemy--a lifetime of sacred torment.Forbidden love is more dangerous and more intoxicating than any other kind, and the sweeter the sin, the greater the catastrophe.By the edicts of my church, I am no longer in a state of grace. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I am a priest and she is my obsession. This is my unholy confession.”

Sexpulsion by Jorge Smith - Having been visited by awakened ghosts throughout the night, a troubled single lady feels she must seek the assistance of a local priest. She complies to cruel and sexual rituals after hearing his perverted directions, in order to restore her tranquility.

The Sinful Priest: MM First Time Straight to Gay Age Gap by M. M. Cummings - James couldn’t let the image of last night go. Ambrose was among the pews doing everything but pray with that man. And now Ambrose was ready to confess his sins. But James isn’t prepared for the truth or the sinful words coating the young man’s tongue. Each one unlocks hidden, forbidden desires inside James. Wicked desires to be with someone. Worse, to be with a man. To be with Ambrose and make him scream. Desperation floods the air. Suddenly, the priest’s collar is suffocating. The confession box, too small. Slight flecks of pleasure peak from the lattice barrier with devilish movements. James is losing it and there is nothing he can do to calm his throbbing need. He wants Ambrose. He needs him. And maybe a fall from grace could land him in a world of happiness and bliss. Only available in Kindle and eBook Editions.

Say Your Prayers by Crystal Ash and Cathryn Moon - Hell has taken over. And Earth’s last sanctuary doesn’t stand a chance. A young woman with horns was the last person Father Stavros expected to see approaching his gate, begging for sanctuary. As a man of God, he learned to never turn away someone in need, especially after Hell’s Rising. But the sinful cravings that follow him and his fellow priests are a whole new obstacle. The horned woman is a succubus--aligned with the very evil they are the last stronghold against.Which begs the question, why would a succubus seek refuge in a church?Spat up from Hell, Deyva’s arrival has made the three priests of Bethel question everything from their faith, their integrity, and the very enemy they face. She may not actually be a monster, but a person truly in need of protection, in need of love, and that rattles the Fathers to their very foundations. When Hell’s Kingdom sends the least likely adversary to Bethel’s gate to retrieve the wayward succubus, the priests are faced with a choice. Throw Deyva back to the pit that spat her out, and take a final stance against Hell with everything they’ve got. Or protect her, give in to their feelings, and risk losing the last grip on their faith.

Sweetest Sin by Sosie Frost - “The priest responsible for my salvation is the man leading me into temptation. Or maybe I’m the one corrupting him? Father Raphael St. Lucian shares my desire, but even he can’t fight our twisted thoughts and fantasies. He promises that we will be saved if we confront our lust and resist this dangerous attraction. But an innocent kiss becomes a forbidden touch, and midnight secrets destroy us in beautiful blasphemy. What happens when our faith is tested and my most honest confession threatens to break his sacred vow? How long can we deny the sweetest sin?”

Stepbrother Priest: A Taboo Love Story by Riley Jones - “I didn't care if it was a sin, I had to have him. None of it should have happened the way it did. I wasn't supposed to fall in love with Jonah. Everything about it was wrong. Not only was he my stepbrother, he was also a celibate priest. I had no right to convince him to break his celibacy, but I couldn't help myself. Jonah was sweet and muscular, the perfect man for a girl like me. So what if the church forbade our relationship? The heart wants what the heart wants. At least that’s what I had to keep telling myself. I just hoped that God would forgive us.” Available in Kindle Edition.

To Become a Priest by Den Adler - Thirteen-year-old Danny Bates is obsessed with becoming a Catholic priest, and he enters Southport, Wisconsin's, Resurrection Seminary in 1957. But a tragic fire in Chicago ignites doubts about the God Danny is so eager to serve, and he falls in love with Jessica Fernettan, his best friend Pat's twin sister. As Jessica urges both Danny and Pat to leave the seminary, and with the Church in a period of dramatic change following its second Vatican Council, the young seminarians face agonizing choices.

This is My Body by Elena Graf - The new rector of St. Margaret's by the Sea Episcopal Church has a secret. Lucille Bartlett was a rising star at the Metropolitan Opera, but she disappeared from the stage and no one knows why. Philosophy Professor Erika Bultmann is a confirmed agnostic, who doesn't have much use for religion, but she is fascinated by Mother Lucy. When Erika returns to her summer cottage in Hobbs to finish her last book before she retires, Lucy is drawn to the enigmatic professor, but she wants much more than a casual affair. Erika has been in open relationships; Lucy wants a commitment. Lucy believes marriage is sacred; Erika thinks it's a vestige of the patriarchy. When Lucy's secret is revealed, she needs Erika's support more than ever. Can they put aside their differences and find common ground?

The Temptations of Heaven by Greg Kauffman-Starkey - Father Leo Brannigan has been a man of deeply religious faith all his life. He is a respected pillar of his community and a man everyone turns to when they’re in need, spiritual or emotional. A chance encounter with a disturbed parishioner after a fire-and-brimstone sermon about homosexuality threatens to turn the good Father’s entire world upside-down. He finds himself strangely drawn intimately to the man he is counseling and is constantly thinking of him in ways he’s not ready to admit. The night he has his very first bombastic erotic dream about the fellow quickly has him questioning everything he thought he believes. Is he falling victim to the very lust he preaches so strongly against? Has the man made him wonder what he’s been missing by being a man of the cloth? If so, can Leo remain faithful in his religious convictions while growing closer to having a sexual relationship with this alluring stranger who has suddenly taken over his every waking moment and many of his sleeping ones?

Vatican: A Novel by Malachi Martin - The subject of this long and intriguing novel is the Vatican's elaborate bureaucracy, in particular its powerful financial network, headed by a mysterious figure known as the Keeper. Another central character, who gives the story its slant, is American Richard Lansing, who joins the Vatican as a young monsignore in 1945, and becomes the confidant of five successive popes. When he reaches the apex of his career, he staunchly opposes any Church bargain with Mammon. (Note: this book is not a romance or erotic story but I include it in this list because it might be of interest nonetheless).

#hierophilia #priest kink #priestkink #blasphemy kink #religious kink #religion kink #blasphemy #mlm #wlw #straight #romance #Once again i have not read all the books listed so i cannot speak for their quality overall

142 notes · View notes

damagedintellect · 10 months

Text

Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

💌 Would this be considered a social suicide? : Chapter 2 💌

Summary: You knew it was dangerous to take walks at night but hearing the water rushing under the bridge was calming to your nerves. You didn’t imagine you’d ever fall into the river and somehow wake up in your favorite anime. The isekai that I’m sure will come back to haunt me. It’s kept me up all night but I might as well get the brainrot out.

Notes: Reader is Isekai’d into BSD, Slow to start, Chuuya is endgame but there’s a fair bit of reader & Dazai moments too

💌 Word count: 2,929 💌 Available Chapters [1] [You are here] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

The next morning you were woken up to a phone call. It was weird since the ringtone was not the one you were used to and the phone wasn’t placed where you normally put it by your side. You tried to keep your eyes closed, you were still tired. Eventually your hand found a flip phone and you picked up the call.

“Yeah.” you sounded dead tired but sure enough Dazai’s chipper voice filled your ear. “And good morning to you~”

You groaned only half heartedly mumbling “It’s too early for this. Call Atsushi to get you out of the oil drum or whatever you got yourself stuck in. I’m going back to sleep.” You ended up slurring some of the words but you were on the precipice of falling back asleep.

“Wow, that's rude to say to someone who saved your life last night. I called you in good faith that my darling (Y/N) would help me with this emergency. Although that does leave me wondering, does your ability make you psychic?” That’s when the events from the night prior stirred you from your sleepy haze. Oh shit. You felt like you were dunked in cold water. Too much, you fucked up. Fix it. Lie. Lie like your life depends on it. What would Atsushi do? He’d panic and apologize right?

“OH GOD IT WASN’T A DREAM! I thought I was still dreaming. It was just a guess, I’m sorry Dazai I’ll-” you were cut off. Perfect.

“Calm down, I was only teasing you but you should come out once you’ve changed. Atsushi’s already downstairs waiting for you.” He ended the call swiftly after.

That could have gone better but at least it wasn’t the worst thing having him think you had an ability. Maybe it was a good thing but still you didn’t like the casualness of it all. Dazai was one of your favorite characters that you knew way too much about. Naturally you don’t want to get on his bad side but you wanted to be kept close. Even though you feel like you can anticipate where he’s coming from, the fact of the matter is he’s supposed to be unpredictable. The problem is you want to be important but the man is a walking redflag and boy do you love flags. You already know romance was not an option especially with the way he flirts with women. He clearly doesn't have much interest in such a thing anyways. His idea that everything he desires will be taken from him always gets in the way of developing any deep meaningful relationship anyhow. Or at least was your guess based on what you’ve read. You feel like that’s the reason why he’s always annoying everyone all the time so in the event something were to happen to either them or himself he could continue without much worry. Especially since he wants to die without being a burden to anyone. You shift your focus to the clothes provided for you, a white button up shirt, pants and boots similar to Atsushi’s but instead of suspenders and a tie you were given a lightweight sweater vest to complete your look. You thought it was cute as you looked in the mirror on your way out the door.

You didn’t say much on the way through town, still embarrassed about how you spoke on the phone. Dazai spoke primarily about the job he would help get you both. Sometimes he would glance back at you just to make sure you were still listening. He even winked at you when he was talking about how good of a fit the two of you would be. The man had no right to be this attractive. As Dazai finished talking himself up Kunikida stormed in to set the record straight.

Atsushi looked over to you “I’m starting to have second thoughts about accepting his help. Maybe I should just look for a job on my own.”

“Eh, Dazai might seem like a moron but I’d trust him on this one. Think about it, you don’t exactly have the greatest credentials to get a job anyhow.” You shrugged, shoving your hands in your pockets. The reason you didn’t get much sleep last night is because you were dreading the next thing Kunikida was about to say. You're afraid you'll be absolutely useless.

“We have an emergency. A man has taken a hostage and threatened to blow up our office.”

Atsushi tried to protest but Dazai and Kunikida were not having it. You followed along without complaint, of course as was your plan from the beginning. If you’re being honest you forgot half of what Junichiro’s speech was about until you heard it right now. Like who was he talking to if not you guys hiding behind the decorative shrubbery. The office workers and hostage had been there for a while. Why wait till right now to say those things. Atsushi was still trying to whimper his way out of helping and Dazai was trying to coax him otherwise. You only nodded along.

“Then there’s only one option.” Dazai said taking a stance with Kunikida following suit. The game of rock, paper, scissors was short and the face Atsushi was making was priceless. Kunikida stood up and approached the “mad bomber” as calmly as he could. “Hey, easy does it kid.”

“Stay away, I only want to see the president! Don’t you try anything funny or I’ll blow this place to bits.”

Kunikida put his hands up slowly and backed away “Okay.”

“I know who you are. You’re Kunikida. You want me to lower my guard so that you can use that annoying ability of yours to stop me. Well that sure ain't happening. Lay on that desk on your hands and knees, and keep both feet above your head- ” as he continued on, you shook with laughter, suppressing the sound at the strange but clearly not well thought order. You saw Dazai side eye you and you whispered “Sorry I know this is bad but the request he was making, how would Kunikida, just never mind. This means you can’t go out there either, Dazai.”

“It would only make him more angry. Oh my whatever shall we do now?”

You both looked at Atsushi “Absolutely not.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“I already know what you’re gonna ask.”

You sighed “Atsushi we are the only option.” Dazai nodded “You’re not a formal member and the bomber doesn’t know either of you at all.”

Before Dazai could move you were already rummaging through the boxes to grab newspapers. “Listen, you just need to distract him long enough for me to back you up. We got this alright?” you looked at Dazai for confirmation.

You took the words out of Dazai’s mouth but he just shrugged continuing the thought. “Yeah. How bout you put on an act. Make it depressing like you think you’re a real worthless human being. I know you can do it right?”

You handed Atsushi the newspapers but he still looked worried. Dazai dropped the smile whispering “Trust me, scuffles on this scale are child's play compared to what we normally deal with. You can handle this Atsushi.” He was quaking in his boots as he started his speech. Dazai looked at you and raised an eyebrow. You gave a pointed look at Kunikida “Since Atsushi looks around the same age as the guy it’s better for him to be the one to reason with him. Worst case scenario I’ll just run and throw myself on the bomb. I already don’t have any memories anyways” you don’t look at Dazai’s face you half expected him to make a double suicide offer. Atsushi got right in Junichiro’s face making the perfect opening for Kunikida. While everyone was distracted with relief you started to untie Naomi, ushering her to the other side of the room. By the time Dazai started messing with Kunikida you had already walked behind the desk ready to move the bomb to the far corner.

“Now you’ll pay. I swear anyone with supernatural powers is not totally right in the head.” Tanizaki declared pressing the detonator.

Once the bomb started ticking you were already in the corner. You turned crouching around the bomb “Thanks for last night, it was great we should do it again sometime!” You smiled fearlessly at Atsushi as he grabbed the bomb from your arms and pushed you away. Dazai caught you as you stumbled back. The bomb didn’t go off of course and you all stood around Atsushi. Dazai helped you to your feet asking if you were okay and you nodded.

“Geez you know I figured the kid was stupid but I didn’t expect them both to be suicidal.” Kunikida groaned while Dazai chimed “It seems I’m rubbing off on them. Wouldn’t you agree, Tanizaki?” The redhead peered around Kunikida’s side hesitantly “Sorry, are you okay?”

"Heee?"

You laughed at Atsushi’s confusion as it shifts to clear irritation. “I’m guessing that was the entrance exam?” you turned towards Dazai for confirmation as the president walked in.

“You’re exactly right.” Fukuzawa then explained the rest of the sentiment with Dazai’s plan to get you both into the agency. You leaned on the desk behind you waiting for Atsushi to come to terms with his decision. He was arguing with how violent the job is for him but you pointed out “Way too violent? I don’t think you can say that when you pried me off a bomb to protect everyone.”

He still needed more convincing but you stopped paying attention. Sitting in the closest chair you relaxed into the piece of furniture. Wasn’t your best but wasn’t your worst. Eventually you all went to the cafe downstairs. You got a hot chocolate not really being a fan of coffee and not feeling like tea. You were already tired but it was still only afternoon. You guys still had the whole day ahead of you.

Junichiro was apologizing to you both but you told him not to sweat it. You made the claim that at some point you realized that he and Naomi were siblings. Naomi didn't even need to be prompted to start molesting her brother. As the siblings did their thing Kunikida came up to talk with you both about upholding the agency’s good name. Meanwhile Dazai was doing the exact opposite by flirting with the hostess. That’s when Atsushi asked what they did before working at the agency.

“Take a guess. It’s a game we play a lot here actually. Newcomer tries to guess his colleagues' former occupations. Think of it as part of training to be a private investigator.”

Atsushi looked at you before you added “I’ve been pretty good at guessing games so far. I'll take my guesses once you get stumped.” You folded your hands behind your head giving him the lead. He hummed “I want to say Junichiro and Naomi were students?”

“Whoa you got it. Nice one.”

“How did you figure that one out?”

The siblings looked surprised but they really shouldn’t be. It was so obvious given their age and the fact that one of them was literally in a uniform. Why else would they only be part timers “Not half bad Atsushi. What about Mr. Kunikida?” The aforementioned blonde spat out his coffee. “Nobody cares about what I used to be alright!”

Atsushi tried to focus again “Hmm, an official? Did he have a government job?”

“Almost. What do you think (Y/N)?” Dazai gave you time to answer “It might be the glasses but “Mr. Kunikida” screams math teacher.”

“I could totally picture that actually.” Atsushi responded flatly. Kunikida was grumbling “It was another life. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“What about me then?” Dazai perked up in his chair.

“What did you do?”

“Yup my job.” Dazai smiled knowing he would have no way of guessing. Atsushi went on a rampage trying to guess it. You just sipped your coco waiting. Debating if it was a good idea to frazzle the brunette by letting him know but you wanted to see his face. Kunikida huffed, betting he didn't actually have an occupation before this.

“Not true, I would never lie about something like this. You've given up right?”

Junichiro’s phone went off, drawing everyone’s attention to the call. It was work, Higuchi to be exact. Dazai tried to wrap it up "Let’s save the guessing game-"

"Actually I would like to take my shot in the dark if it's all the same to everyone else. I only need one guess to be right." You interjected immediately. You made up your mind. This was happening. It's about to go down.

Dazai perked up cheerily like he had been for the past few minutes as you leaned in between him and Kunikida. You cupped your hand around his ear whispering “The demon prodigy and ex- port mafia executive himself, Osamu Dazai.” When you pulled away he fiend ignorance and kept up his usual comical persona “Ding ding ding we have a winner! Now let's go meet with our client shall we.” He stood up and started ushering everyone upstairs shooing Kunikida when he tried to ask questions “Wait just like that! I wanna know.” Atsushi followed after. As you passed Dazai he put his hand on your shoulder. The weight was feather light to the touch but had a more threatening presence than a simple hand should have. Had you not thought about your answer the moment you woke here you might have been shaken but your resolve stayed firm.

“What gave it away?” his voice was warm against your ear. You took a deep breath turning to stare at him and recited the line you practiced in your head. “Ability or not I can see it in your eyes.” you smiled before going after the others. That’s all you should say for now if you continue who knows what the consequences will be. You still had to come up with something to avoid being gunned down by Higuchi or worse killed by Akutagawa.

—

You decided that while Higuchi was leading you to the alley you would start idle chit chat. If you could convince her that you had an ability, maybe she'd feel threatened? That sounded stupid. You could just use Atsushi as a meat shield. You're not picky. "Ichiyo, do you perhaps have someone dear to you who has obscure coughing fits. I apologize if I'm being forward." You skipped alongside her fast pace. Her face shifted for a second. She never gave you her first name. "I do, it must be allergy season right?" You could almost feel the sweat drop at the possibility of the mission being compromised.

You shook your head "If their name is Ryunosuke I'm afraid it's a lung disease. My ability is random foresight but never wrong. It's not my place to say but you should make sure he gets it looked at." You smiled innocently as she was taken aback. Once you got to the threshold of the alley she announced your arrival ignoring your comment. You made sure to stand behind Atsushi knowing she wouldn't risk it. Until Akutagawa showed up, standing behind Atsushi was a good strategy.

As Akutagawa was about to attack you held up your hand and he paused, unsure if you were about to use an ability he didn’t know about. Since you were so new to the agency there wasn't any information about your level of skill. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, not unless you want to make Dazai very angry." He tensed at the mention of his former mentor. "Oh? And why is that?" He pointed a tendril to your neck drawing the slightest bit of blood.

"Because I'm the woman he's going to commit a double suicide with." You smirk knowing he wouldn't dare touch what "belongs" to Dazai. You wonder if he could hear that through the wire. Hopefully you were far enough away from Higuchi. "Very well. Don't get in the way and I'll spare your life." You backed away and watched the show. Junichiro struggled to look back at you making an attempt to glare. As subtle as you could you tried to give him a reassuring look that it was part of a plan and not you being scum. Technically you were being scum but he should cut you some slack. You weren't a fighter.

When Dazai was finished resolving the issue he bounced over to you. "So you're the woman who will commit suicide with me?" He marveled at you with a twinkle in his eyes and sarcasm on his tongue. "I mean you never actually asked but if I get to pick the cause of death, I don't see why not" You had planned for this too. On top of that you were surprised at how long it took for you to be in contention. You must look younger than you were or you could just not be his type. Who knows really when it comes to Dazai.

His eyes widened and you weren’t sure if he thought you were being serious or if he was just playing it up "Of course! What did you have in mind?"

You giggled "Old age." He didn't look amused. "Har Har. You're so proud of yourself aren't you?" He helped Naomi on to your back as he tried to figure out how to carry the boys.

"Extremely."

<= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

#BSD isekai au no one asked for #chuuya nakahara x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #don't mind me just playing around with BSD like dolls #xreader #x reader

58 notes · View notes

saras-devotionals · 2 months

Note

Hi, I need some advice from a sister-in-Christ please.

It's a boy. Yeah, I know, all bad stories start like that but hear me out. I'm pretty good mates with this boy, he's an amazing person, so kind, really thoughtful, his heart is on fire for Jesus, he's funny, just a great bloke.

I was at a worship thing with him, and I just started sobbing on the floor (good times), and he prayed for me. Anyway, while he was praying, I just "heard" this voice, and it just said "This man is your future husband".

I've prayed about it a lot since, and I always get that same response, yes, you are going to marry this man. And that's all good and well, Your will be done Lord, but like, it's not going to be happening anytime soon... because like, I'm a young teenager, he's a few years older than me, his mum is my teacher, and I just don't want to ruin our friendship. I'm sure that God has a plan, so I'm not going to rush anything, His timing is perfect, but I just would like some advice for like waiting - because I might be waiting 10 years, I might be waiting 30 years, you know?

first off I wanted to thank you for being comfortable enough to reach out to me and thank you for trying to seek advice. now, I don’t personally know you so my first suggestion would be to continually ask for advice from other women in your life who are strong in their faith and able to offer sound advice.

I did notice you mention you’re a young teenager and this guy is older, I don’t know the specifics of course but please try to be careful in situations like these, especially at that age, a few years can make a huge difference then compared to later on in life.

as for the waiting, I can completely relate to you! I have a situation of my own with a guy I like. There’s a lot that I’ve applied to my life that I can pass on to you. The first is to let him lead, don’t try to make any of the first moves yourself:

'Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.' Song of Songs 2:7

This has always been a helpful scripture for me because it reiterates that it is not on my timing and, therefore, I shouldn't try to take charge of it.

Also, even with him leading, it must come from God. If his actions towards you seem in any way impure, talk to someone you trust about it and seek advice. A scripture that I always keep in mind when it comes to the guy I like is this one:

Jesus said to his disciples: "Things that cause people to stumble are bound to come, but woe to anyone through whom they come. It would be better for them to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around their neck than to cause one of these little ones to stumble. So watch yourselves." Luke 17:1-3a

This has such strong imagery, especially coming from Jesus! It makes me super aware of my actions and those around me and how we must always strive for the purity of not just ourselves but everyone who sees us too.

More on the waiting: I know it can be hard—so hard! I struggle a bit with it myself, and it’s good that you’re reminding yourself that God’s timing is greater than ours! What I’d suggest is taking the time to be content with yourself and with God. You have to love and seek God with all your heart first and foremost above everything else (if you want, I can tell you some more about seeking God). Something that's been told to me before that stuck is: how can we love someone who's imperfect (aka other people or partners) if we can't completely love the one who is perfect (God)!

Here's some scripture about seeking God and I would also highly recommend reading the rest of Psalm 119!

'Blessed are those whose ways are blameless, who walk according to the law of the Lord . Blessed are those who keep his statutes and seek him with all their heart—' Psalms 119:1-2

Also, strengthen your relationships with other sisters too! Don’t focus so much on spending time with the guy and I’d also advise against spending time alone with him. Remember, our purity matters, and we are also influential to other people as I mentioned earlier. Here's another scripture to help with that!

'“I have the right to do anything,” you say—but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”—but not everything is constructive. No one should seek their own good, but the good of others. ' 1 Corinthians 10:23-24

I’d also advise against building up expectations or a fantasy of him, especially since you are set on believing he’s your future husband. This goes along with seeking God first because you don’t want to get to a point where you begin to idolize this guy and constantly think about him or a potential future relationship (you don't want to spend more time on him than your relationship with God). Live in the here and now! The future will come just as God has promised <3 (and just one last scripture to reaffirm the idolatry point):

'Therefore, my dear friends, flee from idolatry. ' 1 Corinthians 10:14

There’s so much more that I can discuss, and please feel free to reach out to me again if you need clarification on anything or wish for me to elaborate. I wish the absolute best for you, and I’ll be praying for your situation!

#bible #bible quote #bible scripture #bible verse #christian blog #christian faith #christian living #christianity #sisters in christ #jesus #faith in jesus #jesus saves #jesus loves you #love #advice #anon ask #saras devotionals

17 notes · View notes

itbmojojoejo · 1 year

Text

A Good Man | Part 3

Pairing: Finan x Ealdorman's Daughter!Reader

Summary: A nobleman of Wessex introduces himself to y/n after a witan.

Warnings: SLOWBURN. No other warnings at this time. Please let me know if i've missed anything!

Wordcount:3k (chunky but necessary)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Other Works

Authors Notes: Introduced noble and his father are completely fictional and not from TLK. Gleawecestre = Ye Olde Gloucester. My geography is getting really good thanks to this series. (I wrote that before i realised i'd gotten droitwich and saltwic mixed up but it's too late to change that now sooo.)

You sat tall atop your horse beside Lady Aethelflaed journeying towards Winchester leading the small household guard, Lord Uhtred rode a short distance in front with Finan at his side, Osferth and Sihtric behind. You knew the knots in your stomach weren’t related to attending the witan, court life was something you had grown used to and felt comfortable in, it was the topic of conversations afterwards.

“My Lady, how long am I to stay by your side?” You asked glancing at Aethelflaed

“As long as you wish.” She answered with a reassuring smile

“So you aren’t looking to be rid of me to the first bidder?”

“Bidder? y/n no, I’m in no rush for you to leave. In fact I have a task for you while we are in Winchester. There are going to be Ealdormen from Mercia and Wessex present, just keep your eyes and ears open for any information that could be of use.”

“Am I to pry or simply listen and look?” You probed, it wasn’t the first time you’d been asked to do a task like this, your father had asked you to do the same at Aeglesburgh many times

“I would say gossip with the women, listen and look with the men.”

“And if someone questions my loyalty at any point? I am new to being seen at your side after all”

“Tell them what they want to hear, within reason”

“I understand Lady.” And you did understand, knowledge is power in the court. The women spread information quicker than the men and there was usually more truth to it because they had no use for it, the men spin a web to suit their individual needs and ambitions. If you can hear both sides you have an easier time picking apart the truth from the lies.

Arriving in the city you dismounted your horse so it could be taken to the stable and rested and Osferth lingered close by, you hadn’t missed the watchful eye he kept on Finan when he was around you so you approached him keeping your demeanour casual and voice warm.

“Have I offended you somehow Osferth?”

“Oh no Lady of course not” He denied with the shake of his head

“Mm, you are a man of faith yes?” You asked plainly

“I am.” He shifted on his feet

“Then I trust that if you had something you felt the need to share, it would be done in good faith?” Your eyes were kind as they searched his, you didn’t want to cause any upset with the men that had been so welcoming to you recently

“Yes.” He cleared his throat and looked to the floor choosing his words before meeting your eyes “I would not wish to see a good man reprimanded for simply sharing and enjoying the company of a higher borne.” He was just looking out for his friend and you couldn’t fault him for that.

“Of course and neither would I, thank you for your honesty Osferth.” You offered a small smile and the monk returned it with his own.

“Come, let’s get this over with.” Uhtred called from his place on the steps, his tone showing his dislike for politics

You followed behind Aethelflaed and Uhtred with Finan through the halls of the palace towards the growing sound of a gathering.

“Do not worry Lady, you’ll be fine.” Finan whispered with a reassuring touch to your arm sending butterflies to flutter in your stomach

“I’m not worried, this is just a pissing contest to be the man who gets to whisper in the king’s ear.”

You shot him a small smirk coming to a stop in front of the hall, his shocked expression showing he was still processing your comment.

“Ah if it isn’t my charming wife, her new lady-in-waiting and the Lord Uhtred.” Lord Aethelred spoke arriving just behind your small group looking you over.

“Husband, Lord Aldhelm, I trust you are well?” There was an absence of affection in Aethelflaed’s tone that was difficult to miss.

“Very, how is our daughter?” His tone was not kind at the mention of Aelfwyn, Aldhelm shifted on his feet beside Aethelred.

“She grows everyday, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you in the hall.” She gave a curt nod walking away

“You know Lady y/n, if you ever feel like you’re missing your father,” He steps closer towards you taking in your form and lowering his voice “I can be very generous and offer a larger retainer to have you back at Aeglesburgh court on a permanent basis if you wish.”

Finan took a quiet breath in rolling his shoulders and clasped one hand over the other in front of his waist looking between you and the Lord. You held yourself firm with confidence, eye contact never faltering and kept your tone flat in your sharp response,

“Yes, I’ve heard of your generosity Lord, thank you but I am very happy beside your wife.”

Finan coughed to cover a chuckle giving Uhtred a side glance at the exchange as you walked into the hall towards Aethelflaed. He remembered the comment that was made of you not being fond of Aethelred or being shaken by the men you were now surrounded by, you were raised to be strong in the world of politics and that was becoming clearer to him.

You stood on the back row of the witan observing King Edward discuss how to handle raids from the danes that are rife on the borders of Wessex and Mercia when you notice a young man on the second row of the Wessex seats watching you. He couldn’t be much older than you with golden hair and blue eyes, he was broad and tall and looked like he would handle a battle well. A man stood behind him leant to whisper in his ear, you knew your presence would garner some attention as it was your first time inside the court and the same knots from earlier returned to your stomach.

King Edward had determined that for now each Lord was to carry on defending their own lands and move their grain stores to a location that would have better defences, he saw no reason to go to meet them in battle as it was smaller camps not one army moving together. The discontent in the room was easy to feel, it was as though it was vibrating through the floors and walls, as everyone rose from their seats and dispersed you followed behind Aethelflaed and Lord Aldhelm heading towards the courtyard locked in a debate with Uhtred about the decision made.

Finan joined your small group coming to your side as the debate continued on to the main entrance of the palace

“How was your first witan of Wessex?” He whispered leaning into your space

“It’s good to put faces to the names of vultures. But it’s not over yet, my task is only just beginning.” You responded quietly, smoothing a hand down the front of your lilac dress.

“Lady y/n” A voice called out from behind, you turned to see the very tall and broad dark blonde from the witan approaching, Finan looked between the pair of you matching the same silent question on your face, who is this man and why does he know your name.

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Lord Eadred, my father is Lord Ealford of Gleawecestre.”

“I did not see the Lord Ealford present?” Aethelflaed had also stopped with the men when they heard your name called by an unknown voice

“Lady Aethelflaed, Lord Aldhelm.” He bowed his head lightly disregarding Uhtred completely which didn’t go unnoticed “I’m afraid he is rather sickly and has sent me on his behalf.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, I hope he returns to full health soon.”

“Thank you Lady, I was wondering if I could accompany Lady y/n on a walk perhaps?” His blue eyes looked hopeful as he looked you over.

The group all turned to you, sensing an opportunity to find out more about this unknown man you offered Eadred a smile and poured a sweet honey tone into your voice,

“My apologies Lord I have travelled quite far the past few days and wish to be out of the sun, but you may join me for a cup of ale at the two cranes inn if you’d like, with a chaperone.”

“Very well, I would enjoy that.” He responded glancing at a now very tense Finan by your side.

“Lord Uhtred, you are staying at that inn as well are you not?” Aethelflaed’s question was answered with a nod, “Would you be so kind as to chaperone on my behalf? I am needed here beside the king.”

“It would be my honour.” Uhtred stated, offering a smile to Eadred that masked a different emotion entirely.

The walk to the inn was quiet and tense as you followed behind the men through the bustling city. Walking through the door Finan motioned for Sihtric and Osferth to stay in their seats as they attempted to stand at your entrance with another Lord.

“Who’s the pretty pomp?” Sihtric asked motioning his head towards you and Eadred as you sat down at a different table alone

“That is the son of Lord Ealford of Gleawecestre.” Uhtred confirmed pouring himself a cup of ale.

“What does he want with y/n?” Sihtric probed further

“I imagine he’s looking for a wife from a noble Mercian family to strengthen his own.” Finan claimed seating himself with a clear view of your position

“Doesn’t sound like a terrible thing.”

“No, but I get the feeling he’s a turd and a half.” He grumbled pouring himself a large cup of ale

“You would think that, you let yourself get too close Finan.” Osferth jested

“Ay, what did she say to her father about a betrothal? She wants to be respected, that boy playing a man couldn’t even show respect to Uhtred, he’s not the one for her.” He kept his voice low but his frustration was evident

“We will see, but you need to remember the decision is hers and Aethelflaed’s, we’re not to get involved.” Uhtred maintained, angling his seat to keep an eye on you.

Across the room you sat opposite Eadred at a small table trying to keep your focus on him and not the irishman you could see watching the conversation from the corner of your peripheral view.

“You are quite easy on the eyes Lady y/n.” This half hearted compliment from the lord pulled your full focus to him in an instant.

“You flatter me Lord.” you responded keeping your smile coy

“I was surprised to see you in court today, how are you finding being in Aethelflaed’s company?” And there it was, his own probe into your loyalty beginning.

“The Lady Aethelflaed,” You corrected his lack of title use “Has done me a great honour, but only time will tell if it is what’s right for me.”

“Hmm, I wonder, would you say you have the trust and ear of the Lady of Mercia?”

“Yes I would.” You were confident in your conviction.

“I happen to be making headway with the king, I have visions of Gleawecestre being recognised for it’s own glory soon. A union between the two of us could be rather powerful and help achieve that vision I feel.” You decided he was either foolish or incredibly arrogant to think this.

“This is our first meeting Lord Eadred, a little soon to be speaking of a union is it not? Also I don’t recall King Edward acknowledging you, let alone speaking with you.” Even though you words could be interpreted as hurtful your tone was playful not wanting the conversation to become too serious.

He chuckled looking down at his cup and gave it a couple of taps off the table “Your reputation of being out spoken is true I see.”

“Out spoken? I am merely looking out for myself, as are you it would seem.”

Finan had noticed your change in posture causing him to pay more attention, you were no longer behaving as if it was just a polite gesture to accept the meeting but fully engaged and leaning slightly closer over the table looking at the Lord from under your lashes. He didn’t like it but he had no choice in the matter, you are always going to be a Lady of Mercia and you will have many suitors wanting to be in a union with you.

“You are staring again.”

“No Osferth, I am chaperoning.”

Sihtric snorted at the exchange and sipped at his ale with an amused look on his face. You had stood and offered Eadred another coy smile, he gave you a small bow in return and left the inn without even a glance to the table of your chaperones.

You sat yourself at the table opposite Finan with a heavy sigh and the four men watched on as you drained your cup and refilled it.

“My apologies, that wasn’t very lady-like of me.”

“No need to apologise Lady” Uhtred chuckled lightly

“Can we drop the title when it is just us please? It’s starting to send me into madness.” You fiddled with the cross at your neck and they all nodded politely at your request.

“So how was you new friend?” Finan asked, his expression a mixture of amusement and worry

“That is no friend, he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing and needs to be watched.” You uttered

“What makes you believe that?” Uhtred questioned with a small frown appearing on his face

“He is arrogant and foolish-“

“You don’t like him then?” Finan interjected looking at you over the edge of his cup causing Sihtric to clear his throat and look to Osferth.

“What? No. He is talking of a great vision for Gleawecestre to have a glory he thinks it deserves, men who talk like that think themselves worthy to be a king.” You kept your voice low to avoid anyone overhearing

“Hmm, Aethelflaed was right, men do talk when trying to impress the ladies at court. Sihtric, Osferth, you will find him see who he talks to.” Uhtred put his cup down and stood

“Yes Lord.” Sihtric stood with Osferth who sighed as they exited the inn.

“Finan, you may stay here with y/n. I will go back to the palace and talk with Aethelflaed.”

As the afternoon drifted into early evening you requested to move to a table outside to get away from some of the other rowdy patrons, it was still warm and would be light for a few more hours yet with it being summer. You sat on the same side of the bench as Finan with your backs to the wall so you could have a clear view of anyone approaching but he was more focused watching you pull your hair over your shoulder to create a loose braid.

“You missed a bit.” He took the segment of hair in his fingers and tickled your cheek with it getting a laugh from you, your brushed your hands through the lengths and started the process again.

“Did your Lord have anything else to say other than he wants glory?” He asked leaning forward and resting his arms on the table

“Other than me being easy on the eyes, he thinks a union between him and I would be a powerful one” You scoffed turning your nose up at the memory

“Jesus, he’s talking of marriage already?” Finan looked to you, with the sun hitting the side of your face lighting up your features he thought you were more than just easy on the eyes.

“Mm. It won’t happen, he lacks respect and thinks too highly of himself. Thankfully Lady Aethelflaed isn’t in any rush to be rid of me so I’m not going to be forced into something I don’t want.”

“So do you have like, y’know, set rules for who you can and can’t marry?” He wasn’t sure why he even asked, he knew what the rules are. Nobles for nobles only, unless it is a man who is able to bend the rules to have the woman he wants.

“Being the youngest of four it is easier for me to refuse a proposal, if I’m still unwed when my father comes to pass the responsibility for me should fall to my brother but if I remain a lady-in-waiting it’s Aethelflaed who gets the final say, I might not have to marry a noble or even marry at all.”

“Fancy the life of a spinster eh” He jested sitting back bumping his shoulder off yours, you laughed looking at him. These past few days were the happiest you’d been in a long time, you weren’t being treated as a decorative object with no purpose but as a real person who had value and thoughts and feelings.

The idea of being handed over to a man who only wanted to use you for his own gain hurt, especially when you find yourself sat beside one who has been nothing but kind and respectful from the moment you met. You weren’t a fool, you’ve seen how his friends watch the pair of you interact, how his posture and expression changes when he’s unsure of another mans intentions for you, and after Osferth’s comment earlier you knew it was a mutual admiration.

“y/n?” Finan spoke quietly searching your eyes, the sadness behind them was suddenly difficult to miss and he worried that maybe his words had offended you.

“You look at me as though I am pure gold.” Your voice was barely above a whisper and your cheeks flushed at the escaped thought. He released a slow breath knowing that he should divert the conversation and avoid this topic entirely but instead he found himself nodding.

“I think you deserve to be treasured.” He confessed quietly.

You were both pulled from the moment as Uhtred sat down with a huff and slapped the table to get the attention of a worker for a cup. You rubbed your thumbs against each other in your lap lost in your thoughts as he filled Finan in on what had been happening at the palace.

End Notes: draaamaaaa.

Taglist: @arcielee @tssf-imagines @bcon24

#finan x reader #finan fanfic #finan tlk #tlk fanfic

116 notes · View notes

anamazingangie · 7 months

Text

deliciae | Rhaenyra x Daemon

🌧️ Rated E 🌧️ 8.3k words 🌧️ Complete 🌧️ by AmazingAngie 🌧️

Tags: AU, Loss of Virginity, Overstimulation, Valyrian Culture, Minor Bloodplay, Lore, Ritual Sex, Pregnancy, Lactation Kink, Non-Con Somno, Consent Issues, Velyaron Inlaws, Virgin Sacrifice, Darcyphilia, Begging

Summary:

“You will have to practice the marriage rites, if you wish for it to be valid.” She nodded, uncaring of the warning. But then—she did not truly know what the rites entailed. She didn’t realize it would require a sacrifice to Daemon. They used to sacrifice virgins to him, believing his alter was hungry for their blood. When that was outlawed, they realized it was not their life he desired, but rather their purity. (He desired a bit more than that from Rhaenyra, though.)

part one of ? of amorous autumn / kinktober. 1. loss of virginity / first times 2. praise kink/talking during sex/dirty talk 3. orgasm control /denial/chastity/begging 4. overstimulation/multiple orgasms

🌧️ deliciae 🌧️

Once, all of the known world worshiped the old gods of Valyria. At least that was the claim she had heard from the village elders—a handful of men and women so old their skin resembled dried fruit in texture, and parchment in color. Rhaenyra had been scared of them as a child, but now as a girl on the cusp of womanhood, she found herself fascinated by them and their knowledge.

There was a church for the Seven on the island, too. The majority of the island had been converted to their ways and beliefs now, but Rhaenyra was a Targaryen. The blood in her veins was as pure as what flowed through the gods who sculpted Valyria itself. She would never insult them by praying to another.

Her father knew how proud she was of her—their—heritage, but he still gave her a choice when it came time to secure a match for her. She could wed a man of the faith in the church, or she could wed a man who worshiped the old gods. It was an easy choice, and she was not dissuaded by his next statement,

“You will have to practice the marriage rites, if you wish for it to be valid.”

She nodded, uncaring of the warning.

But then—she did not truly know what the rites entailed.

She had seen Valyrian weddings before, though always from a distance. They took place on the highest peaks of the island, so they could be closer to the gods that still inhabited the clouds. Rhaenyra knew it involved small offerings of blood—one for the gods, served in a holy goblet, and one another for the couple, served from the other’s lips. Some thought it barbaric, but Rhaenyra thought it romantic—the long held Valyrian way was sharing all of yourself with your partner, and blood was no exception.

She had not seen the marriage rites, though. The practice was not in any tome or scroll, considered too sacred—too private to be written. It was Rhaenys, the mother of her betrothed, who told her of them in detail.

The gods worshiped most openly on Dragonstone were those of the sea and the sky, for they controlled nearly every part of the islanders' life—or at least the quality of it. But there were other gods, ones rarely even whispered about, either for lack of need or due to long held superstitions.

Daemon was the latter.

Rhaenys said his entire purpose was debated—some thought him evil, a harbinger of death and the god of darkness; of night. Others claimed he was a god of death, but a god of life, too. He could bless a life as easily as he could take it, which is why brides made such a sacrifice to him on their wedding night.

“Myths say they used to sacrifice virgins to him, that his alter was hungry for their blood. When that was outlawed, they realized it was not their life he desired, but rather their purity. By offering him that, by giving yourself to the night, he in turn blesses you with life. The first babe born to you is thought to come from his seed, and will ceremoniously be brought back to the altar in which they were conceived to be offered to the god.”

She went on to explain that they used to kill the first baby, as it was not thought to belong to the woman’s husband. Its blood was yet another sacrifice to Daemon. But those who dared were cursed, the women's wombs never quickening no matter what was done.

Now a small offering—that of simply showing the infant to the gods before it was named, was done in its place. It completed the cycle—for Daemon had taken one's innocence and replaced it with the most innocent creature of all—an infant.

“What must I do?” Rhaenyra asked, sounding determined. This new knowledge was surprising, but did nothing to sway her. Her lack of familiarity with a god made him no less powerful, and made her no less willing to offer something—even herself—to him.

She realized, as Rhaenys explained, why this was such a tightly held secret. People were embarrassed by the fact they underwent it, something so at odds with the more common faith who claimed a woman was only for their husband. Even amongst those committed to the Valyrian ways, like Rhaenys herself, recalled the practice with mixed feelings.

“It is a blessing, in one way. For the act of intercourse is at its core an invasion of your body—not dissimilar to a sword being buried inside you, though its tip is blunted. The fact that the first intrusion was something I controlled made me feel quite…powerful. It was as if it took any nervousness along with my maidenhead, leaving me prepared—even confident for what may come with my husband.”

She paused, looking thoughtful for a moment before continuing, “Despite that, it is not pleasant. The act—the phallus, it may pierce you but it is unlikely to provide pleasure. It’s large, cold, and unyielding. It lacks the intimacy of a man, of their arms around you and the contact of skin to skin. I think it a pity, I suppose, that such things were missing from my first experience of something entering me there.”

Rhaenyra swallowed, her throat feeling thick. She had never felt much fear for sex. Valyrian’s were more free than those who followed the Seven. They expected chastity until marriage, and fidelity within the confines of it, but once a pair was wed their intimacy was celebrated. She’d heard legends of her grandparents and how sounds of pleasure filled every corner of the stone cottage, no door or curtain capable of stifling their enjoyment. And even without tales like that, the illustrations and art of the Valyrian people created showed a reverence and enthusiasm that vastly differed from the Seven.

The followers of the Seven believed sex was for procreation—the possibility and hope for a child was the only pleasure that should be felt by a woman when she was with her husband.

But the Valyrians believed that a union—a wedding following their traditions, was not just blessed by their gods but involved them. Passion between a man and wife flowed through them, their pleasure serving as a gift that would in turn reward the couple with good health and happiness.

And so, it was not a frightening prospect to her, such an act with her husband.

But this…

There were several feasts leading up to her wedding, while the ceremony itself was private. Vows were given with only their closest family and the gods to serve as witnesses.

It was still summer when she wed the eldest son of her Aunt, Rhaenys Targaryen, and her husband, Corlys Velaryon. Her groom, Laenor Velaryon, was a slim man, only a few years older than her. His face wasn’t masculine enough to be handsome. But instead she considered him rather pretty. His skin was smooth, free of any beard or blemish. A perfect mixture between the shades of his mother and father.

Despite the season, she shivered as they spoke their vows—she wondered if a storm was coming, the sky seeming to form a haze even thicker than what was common on Dragonstone. The wind whipped at her free hair, distracting her from the Septon’s words and making her stumble over her own.

The wedding wasn’t quite what she had imagined. Despite his good looks, she wasn’t enamored with her groom. The lack of enthusiasm for the match left her to focus on her discomfort—the way the headdress dug into her scalp, and the weight of the heavy robes she wore. They had belonged to Rhaenys and still smelled musty from storage, too, which assaulted her delicate senses and made her nose wrinkle throughout the entire ceremony.

Laenor cut his palm, and they shared sips from the goblet—the taste was metallic, bitter, and unpleasant, but she knew she could not spit it out. She bit her lip and swallowed, swallowing a gag with it. Next her lip was pierced with the dragonglass, as was Laenor’s, and the vows were sealed with a gentle kiss.

They walked side by side down the mountain and through the village—he returned to his home, and Rhaenyra returned to her own. Though neither were their homes, for they were shared with their families.

Rhaenys and Laena were by her side for this, knowing the traditions and preparations far better than Rhaenyra’s stepmother who practiced the Seven and was not keen to even witness the ceremony, much less take part in what was to come.

Rhaenyra was happy to shed her robes and slip into the warm bathwater—the heat soothing the ache in her shoulders. Rhaenys protested when she dunked her head beneath the surface, but Rhaenyra did not care, the water felt good on her sore scalp. She massaged where the headdress had pressed into her, before reaching for the fragrant charcoal soap that was meant to cleanse her.

When she was done, a steel strigil was used to scrape the residue of oil from her body and then she was dried with white cloth. Unlike brides married under the Seven— who coated their bodies with perfumes and creams in an effort to appeal to their husband’s, the Valyrian gods desired women in their purest form.

And so, Rhaenyra was dressed in a simple pure white linen robe.

She was barefoot as she walked through the tunnels—the ones beneath Dragonstone. There were springs down here that some used for bathing, or laundry. Some was even funneled through pipes into cottages close to the keep. But if you went deeper, down what felt like hundreds of steps, you would reach Caraxes Crypt.

Caraxes was one of three serpent deities the Valyrian’s believed in—there was one of the sky, one of the land, and one of the sea.

The scaled beasts were thought to be evil by some—but also worshiped as a symbol of rebirth and fertility. They could shed their skin and were born anew in an ease and grace expectant mothers craved to experience in the birthing bed.

Caraxes was a serpent of the sky, revered for bringing fire to the earth with lightning that spewed from his monstrous mouth. Perhaps it was odd, that a creature of the sky was worshiped so far below the ground, but it was intentional—the crypt was close to the veins of lava that lived beneath Dragonstone and the heat was said to satisfy the creature.

Rhaenyra asked why Daemon was worshiped here too, and Rhaenys said it was because it was the closest they could get to the center of the earth—the closest they could get to the void of darkness, absent of life and all but his presence. It was not a comforting answer, but she nodded, as she could do little else.

She had never been in the crypt before, and she was somewhat awed by it—the walls lined with scales and Valyrian script. The space was lit with an eternal flame—one that never required tending, at least by no other than the deity Caraxes. It lived in the jaws of the creature's likeness, a massive head carved from dark stone and painted red with the blood of offerings. The eyes were rubies, glimmering and strangely lifelike despite the crystalline shape and sheen.

Rhaenys did not follow her into the final room.

Even the door was intimidating—a mixture of steel and lacquered black wood. Rhaenyra swallowed, pushing it open—surprised to find it warm on her palms.

The last room had been noticeably warm, but not uncomfortably so. Not sweltering or sweat inducing. But this one was different—the air was thick, almost syrupy in her throat and lungs as she breathed it in. There was no fire in here, save for the flame she carried, which Rhaenyra used to light lanterns on either side of the door—which had slammed shut as soon as she slipped through.

When she turned she had her first chance to look at the room. The previous chamber had been dark, chiseled from the stone and lava rock that made up the island. But in the lamplight it had not seemed so ominous in its coloring—not so different from Rhaenyra’s own stone-walled chambers.

This room was smaller and lined in obsidian tiles. Any reflected light from the flame bounced, but in a way that only emphasized the depth of its coloring. The lava-glass was often used for jewelry and blades, and though not rare it was prized for its sheen and inky shade. Medallions of it hung at the breast of many, representing luck and love and all sorts of things. But Rhaenyra had never seen it used like this.

It truly felt she was entombed by shadows, able to see but just barely as she approached the throne she was meant to mount. It was only a few steps away given the room's size, but she was sweating when she reached it—the heat was oppressive, unlike anything she had experienced before. She took off her robe then, hoping her skin would be able to breathe if exposed to the air.

If anything, she seemed to grow even warmer.

She placed her lantern next to the throne—illuminating it further. It was such an odd creation, made from the warped weapons of soldiers who had been killed in battle. Rhaenys said Daemon was once a war god, too—people thanked him for his part in skirmishes with offerings after the enemy was defeated. She wasn’t sure when it was formed into a seat, nor when the statue was added to it, but it was…exquisite.

It was made from shining obsidian, the muscle structure so very realistic she swore she saw the chest breathe. She knew little of mens appendages, but she could only assume it shared the same level of accuracy as the upper body, and…gods. That was beautiful too, the intimidating length that curved upward. The tip was thicker, delicate ridges and even veins carved into it.

Suddenly the lantern wasn’t enough, seeing it wasn’t enough. She set it down, reaching her palm to the stone. She traced it with her fingertips, completely awed by the feeling of it in her hand. She knew it was stone—obsidian, it was not alive the way a human was, but it seemed to pulse beneath her fingers all the same. It was warm too, even hotter than the rest of the room.

She was eager now, to have it inside her. To sit in the lap of this godly figure and offer him her maidenhead.

There was oil in the pocket of her robe and she reached for it—thinking it may not even be necessary for she felt hot in her loin, she felt hot all over. Feverish and needy as she spilled the liquid across the phallus, just as Rhaenys had instructed.

What else had she said? Rhaenyra could hardly remember—something about fingers, and the length of it being too much. Yes. Not to take all of it, not to hurt herself, but not to stress either.

Well. She certainly wasn’t stressed.

She stroked between her thighs, dipping the tips of her fingers between her folds. She had done this before—not for pleasure, but for sanitary reasons. And though the action wasn’t different, it felt different. It made her shiver, the sensitivity odd but far from unpleasant. She was slick there, with something thicker than oil or water, and it eased the entry of her fingers as they pressed deeper.

I think you’re ready, deliciae.

She startled, nearly slipping and having to catch herself on the arm of the throne. She looked around, but the room was empty—it was just her, and…

She looked at the sculpture, it lacked a face, and it had no arms. It was a torso, with legs and hips merely to support a base for its phallus. It could not speak. Gods, she was going mad—driven by the heat of her desire and the room, to be sure. Because it didn’t matter if the sculpture had a face, for a stone mouth was no more capable of speech than a nonexistent one!

She calmed herself with deep breaths, focusing on the hot air entering her lungs until she was swaying slightly, as if drunk on it. No matter where the words had come from, she was ready.

Already nude, and with the phallus oiled, there was little left to do but…mount it. She felt slightly awkward as she attempted this, positioning herself on the lap of the statue until its appendage was pressed between them. It was more intimidating like this, against the pale skin of her stomach, showing how deep it could penetrate her. It didn’t make her less aroused, though, if anything she felt anticipation—an eagerness to see how much she could take.

She rose upward on her knees, supporting herself with one hand on the shoulder of the torso while the other parted her folds. With how slick she was, and with all the oil, it did not take long for her to ease the head inside—though even that was a considerable stretch.

It didn’t hurt, it felt right, as if her muscles were made for this—to accommodate a man. And she supposed they were, this was just the first evidence she had seen—felt—of it.

What little ache there was, was chased away by the heat of the phallus—her aunt had called it cold but Rhaenyra thought its temperature far closer to something that would burn. She liked it though, and was suddenly desperate for more—but when she pressed down, her body protested, still attempting to adjust to the size of its bulbous head.

I can help you, deliciae.

She yelped—jerking in surprise. She likely would have lost her place on the lap of the throne if not for the—hands. Yes. Those were definitely hands. That gripped her waist and stilled her. She was panting now, the arousal and fear and confusion proving to be too much.

Don’t be afraid, deliciae. The night does not harm the day, nor does evil harm the innocent.

Her fingers clawed at the stone beneath them—proving to her that it was not a person, that this wasn’t real. But that voice seemed the opposite, echoing in the small room in a way that made her so sure it wasn’t just in her head. But that was impossible!

You won’t be innocent for long though, will you? Parting the petals of your precious flower and planting it on the root of my loin. So desperate for seed, greedy with the desire for a babe.

She shook her head, “No—” she wasn’t greedy for that. Her desire was for—she swallowed, she didn’t know what it was for. She simply wanted this—his length inside her. She wanted to know pleasure, even if she’d not been promised it by this ritual.

She said none of this, but he heard it. Gods, he wasn’t even there. She was going mad.

Oh deliciae, I shall give you both.

She didn’t know what that meant—and then the hands holding her waist moved. They did what she had not, pulling her further down the length—it was so hard inside her, so warm, seeming to thrum in time with her own heartbeat. She was stretched tightly across the appendage, skin straining and burning but doing so with an eagerness that made her desire more.

He gave it to her. Another inch—and she felt it, the tearing and pain that signaled she was no longer a maiden. It hurt, but she had little time to think for she was suddenly jerked further down the length—all the way down his length, she realized, for her body was now fully seated atop the statue's own without an inch between them. Though no tearing sensation accompanied this movement, the pain made her woozy, made her scream. It made everything go black.

One of Rhaenyra’s first memories was a poem. A man was jealous of his lover’s mindless playing with a sparrow. Whether it was because he wished to play so lightheartedly with the delicate bird, or because he wished to be in its place and play with his lover, was not made clear. She could not recite the exact words. After all, she hadn’t heard them in nearly a decade—not since her mother died, taking Rhaenyra’s interest in poetry with her.

It took a while for her to regain enough awareness to listen. The candance was the same, familiar enough to spark the memory of her youth. It must have been written by the same person, but she had not heard this part. In it, the sparrow was dead, and the man was blaming god—

‘you devour all beautiful things,’

‘now on account of your work my little girl's slightly swollen eyes are red from weeping.’

She wondered if it was a warning that he was going to devour her. Or perhaps meant as a compliment, that he thought her beautiful. She sniffed, her nose snotty from the tears that had come before she lost consciousness. There was a finger brushing them away, gentle thumbs cradling her face as she lay back against something warm.

Oh. She realized, almost wanting to laugh, it was because her eyes were swollen and red from weeping.

I shall reward you, deliciae, for your cleverness.

The voice sounded closer, now, and she shivered as lips brushed her ear, a tongue dragging to the lobe before teeth nipped at it. She wasn’t sure what this…whatever it was, would consider a reward, but if it was death, she wanted to see what creature would take her to the afterlife. Her eyes opened just enough to see him in the dim room.

She was shocked by what she saw, for he was the opposite of their surroundings, the opposite of the obsidian body that sat atop a throne.

His skin was white as snow, and his hair as bright as polished coins of silver and gold. He was handsome, breathtakingly so, with piercing eyes and plush lips. He looked more like a prince, than a god, though he was attractive enough to be both.

Was it so awful that his appearance alone soothed her fear?

Was it vain that he did not seem so monstrous when she knew he was handsome?

That she would rather die at the hand of someone beautiful?

Death—yes, she could imagine no other outcome, and his next words were no comfort.

I shall devour you, of course, my beautiful thing.

She waited for the pain—but none came, aside from the pressure of his hands on her pelvis, which reminded her of the ache in her cunt. It felt like an overstretched muscle, twisted and sore but in a way you knew would be better in the morning. Hardly damaged beyond repair, no matter how excruciating it had been when he fully entered her.

It was soothing—the weight of his palms pressing down on her, as if it could heal her that way. They soon moved, though, cupping her thighs and lifting them—bringing her cunt to his mouth as if he wished to sip from a bowl of soup. And this was what he had meant, she realized, as his mouth descended on her folds.

She didn’t know how to describe it—though she doubted her ability to describe anything at that moment. But it was warm and wet and wonderful. He lapped at her voraciously, as if he was starved for this act and unable to restrain himself. While his tongue curled into her, his fingers roamed—joining his tongue, and tracing both above and below her folds. She was shaking in a matter of minutes, and pleading for release. She had to look at herself to be convinced she wasn’t expanding, for her skin felt tight and she swore she was going to explode.

And then it came.

She came.

And she did again, and again.

She begged for mercy but he gave none. Her pleading seemed to amuse him, but he did not stop, for he was parched and intended to quench himself on the juices of her cunt.

Despite her protests, she ground her hips against his chin and dug her nails into his scalp in an attempt to drag him closer. It was as if her body knew she could take this, her body wanted this, it was just her foolish brain that was unwilling to resign to such pleasures.

It did, eventually. Or rather he forced her to resign. She came too many times to think, her vision blurred and she feared she may pass out again if he did not stop—though this time it would be for a reason opposite that of pain, it would be for pleasure. He seemed to know this, but remained unbothered—continuing to lap at her until her lids fell shut and grip on his hair weakened.

When she woke, there was an ache inside her, a cramping making her aware of an intrusion. Her upper body was against the stone tiles—they felt cool in the heat of her room and she moaned, momentarily distracted as her nipples scraped across their rough surface.

Her hips were held by large hands, the cheeks of her rear pressed against unyielding flesh. Warm. So warm. One hand stroked her hip while the other ventured up her side, cupping a breast before traveling to her stomach, pressing gently against the place his cock had reached inside her. She whimpered, and he made a shushing noise, like she was a child.

It shall pass. Tis a risk little things like you take, when they crave the cock of a god.

“I didn’t.” She cried, nails curling against the tiles before they bit into the skin of her palm.

Didn’t you?

She shook her head, and he made a humming noise behind her before leaning over her—trapping her body beneath him and whispering into her ear.

You will.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, him stroking her flank as her core desperately tried to adjust to his length. It could have been minutes, or hours, she didn’t have the slightest idea. But eventually her muscles gave up—growing as slack as they could while being stretched so thoroughly. The ache of pain faded slowly, and the ache of desire readily took its place. Soon that was all that remained—pooling in her gut and making her cunt slick, though it had nowhere to go with how his cock plugged her.

His cock. God, it was so warm, so hard. It soothed the ache it had caused in her, while leaving her burning for more. She wanted for him to move. She wanted him. She wanted.

“Please.” She whispered, though it sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.

He hummed.

Please what, deliciae?

“Please move.” She begged.

I am not sure you have earned it. When you claim to not even crave it.

She sobbed in frustration, “I do! Please! I need it.”

Greedy little thing. Alright deliciae, I am not so cruel as to deny a pretty thing such as you.

And he didn’t—his thrusts were shallow at first, letting her adjust to the sensation of something not just being there but moving in there. She thought her muscles were too fatigued for it to hurt, she barely twitched at his movements, though she felt them. She couldn’t escape them, the force of each thrust flowing from her folds to the tip of each of her fingers.

She swore she felt more than the force of his movements, but also the force of his being. If he had been a shadow when she first walked into this room then perhaps it was not so impossible that part of him had crept into her with each breath. She would worry over that later, for at this moment all she could focus on was him pressing into her—and then pulling out until only the head remained, before slamming back in and making her shriek and scramble.

It was not predictable. Each thrust was a different pace and length—she trembled in anticipation as he pulled back only to nearly collapse in pleasure when he pushed forward. His hands hadn’t moved through all of this, somehow still supporting her. They soothed her with strokes along her flank, before slipping down to where they were joined—a fingernail scraped against the taught skin that clung to his cock and her entire body seemed to coil before it snapped.

He kept thrusting, his finger dancing around where they were joined, then rubbing the bud above her folds. She felt tears spilling from her eyes and she bit down on her lip in an effort to avoid crying audibly.

Do not hide from me, deliciae. Not your tears, or sounds, or body. Let yourself be. Let yourself cry out for me.

She hiccuped, “I don’t even know who you are.”

I am Daemon— and perhaps more than that to you.

She didn’t know what that meant.

But she knew his name, at least. And she became familiar with it on her tongue, as she cried out for him again, and again. He was relentless, the coupling seeming endless until he finally—finally emptied himself into her. She knew a man would spend themselves, but she hadn’t expected to feel it—the heat, and the pressure. The way it managed to pour into every crevice his cock itself had not reached, being pushed deeper and deeper with his shallow thrusts until she was sure it filled every empty part of her.

There was no way she could know this, but somehow she did.

And somehow he did too.

Name him Baelon. He whispered, before gently pulling out of her

She whimpered—now unused to being empty, even though before that night it was all she knew.

She felt herself being lifted into his arms and being moved—she was curled up quite efficiently in his lap, her lips and face buried in the crook of his neck. “It won’t be a demon, will it?” Rhaenyra asked, thinking of the legends—creatures born by evil spirits as punishment for one's misdeeds.

No more so than you.

She laughed a little at that, stroking his chest, her thumb dragging across scarred flesh that nearly covered his right nipple. It was strange for a god to have scars.

A warrior wears his failings and his victories on his flesh. It is a fact unchanged by death or deity.

She hummed in response, unable to think of anything else for his own fingers had wandered. She hissed as his thumb touched her own nipple—the bud scraped, as was most of her chest, from being pressed against the tile floors. The sensitive nubs had gotten the worst of it, given their hardened state that only served to press them more harshly against the jagged stone.

Daemon did not apologize—instead enveloping one in his mouth. The heat of his tongue against broken skin stung at first, but the suckling sensation was soothing and pleasant enough that any other feelings soon faded. She petted his hair while he lapped at her, sucking turning to lazy licks before he repeated the act on her other breast.

She had seen women in the village feed their children before, and so she never gave much thought to her breasts' purpose beyond that. If anything they were an annoyance, making her back ache because of their size. She didn’t know they could feel like this. But then, she’d never had a man's hands massaging them, nor one's mouth miming the act of drinking from one.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she collapsed against the armrest—her head tilting back against the throne. The last thing she remembered was being very warm, very tired, and asking for a good night's kiss.

Of course. Sleep, deliciae.

His lips were soft and warm, and she was asleep before their mouths fully parted.

She was warm. So warm. Not like the night before though—this was uncomfortable, stifling, claustrophobic and not at all like the embrace of her god. She struggled, and hands pressed her down—she tried to fight them, but she was so weak.

Why was she so weak?

A woman’s voice tried to calm her.

“Go back to sleep, Rhaenyra, you have a fever, you need rest.”

The next time she awoke, she was more comfortable—but when her eyes opened, everything was much too bright. It was as if they were still adjusted to the dim crypt, and her head pounded as they attempted to adjust. Or perhaps her head just pounded. She touched her forehead—it felt grimy with sweat, but had no exterior damage.

What had happened? The last thing she remembered was…

Daemon.

Rhaenys was the one to explain—that Rhaenyra never returned to the ground level of the keep. Rhaenys had stood watch all night, and when morning came both she and Laena descended into the crypt to search.

They found her asleep on the throne, curled against the side of the statue.

“You were pale and completely unresponsive. The Maester said he has only seen such a water imbalance in men who had been missing for weeks.” Laena told her, sounding far more concerned than her mother had.

“You were alone down there, yes?” Rhaenys asked, after Laena had left the room. Her tone was very serious. Rhaenyra picked at her fingers, she could hardly admit that a god took a human form in order to take her virginity. They would think her mad. Maybe she was. But she knew from the ache in her legs, and the sensitivity of her breasts against the chemise that something had happened.

“Yes. I was alone.” Rhaenyra said. She had to have been. Rhaenys had been at the entry all night, and the rooms had been empty when she first entered them.

“There were marks, Rhaenyra.” The older woman said “Bruises. Trauma.” She paused for a moment before gritting her teeth and saying, “There was seed.”

Rhaenyra looked at her lap, blushing despite not doing anything wrong. She gathered despite the rumor of the stone phallus leading to conception on a woman’s wedding night, it was not meant to leave visible evidence like it had with her.

“You saw me bare and unblemished just minutes before I went into that chamber. You saw me enter that chamber alone. You saw that no one else entered! I will not deny the marks or moisture that was present, but I was alone.”

Rhaenys eyes narrowed, and then softened when Rhaenyra yawned—exhausted from merely sitting up and speaking. She clutched her daughter in law's hand. “Regardless of what happened—I’m glad you survived, and I bid you not to speak of it to others.”

Rhaenyra nodded, that much she could agree to—as it was she had little plan to tell anyone of what happened. Of what she thought happened. She would not let a…hallucination brought on by lack of water be the downfall of her marriage or life.

It was to be forgotten.

It did not want to be forgotten.

She did not consummate her marriage with her husband until a full month after they married. He was insistent that her health had to come first, and that she was still recovering what had occurred in the crypt. Rhaenyra swore she was fine, but he protested all the same.

She was quite sure when he did agree, it had to do with his mother’s interference rather than his own desire.

Despite his good looks and the easy friendship they had developed, he was not suave. He treated her more like a sister than a lover, even when they had the privacy of shared chambers. She was somewhat…offended at his lack of interest, but she wasn’t sure how to fix it. She was confident it wasn’t her fault, for she was beautiful, and she knew it. Which meant it was something he had to decide to fix, and he seemed more eager to avoid than address it.

It was somewhat of a relief to learn his lack of desire applied to the entirety of her sex, rather than just her. He had admitted this when his cock refused to thicken enough to even press it inside of her. She had held him, his face against her chemise covered chest—for he had asked her not to remove it during—while he sobbed.

Before he returned to his room, he swore he appreciated the female form, he just had no appetite for it.

That night, her fingers roamed beneath her chemise. She remembered the sensation of Daemon’s appetite, the unrelenting tongue that had made her come until her body could no longer take it. It was this that brought on a release, though it was less satisfying using her own hand.

Her sleep was fitful that night.

She started feeding the sparrows, leaving little bits of bread on the windowsill of her room.

She started reading her mothers poetry books.

She started to acknowledge that she was going to be a mother too.

The bump was small, but could not be ignored. Her husband did not ask questions, and neither did Rhaenys.

Corlys seemed to know the truth of it, but was uncaring—names were what people remembered, he claimed, and her child would be a Velaryon.

There was a terrible storm that night—unexpected and violent. The wind ripped shingles from rooftops, and the seas were so rocky they wrecked parts of the dock and sank several boats.

A bad omen, the townspeople claimed.

Laenor had gotten the wound while sparring—just a small cut, not worthy of seeing a Maester or stitching. He was insistent on that, brushing it off in the unserious manner he did almost everything. Rhaenyra huffed but didn’t argue, it wasn’t worth it, he never listened.

The wound festered.

His pride kept it hidden beneath his sleeve, until the swelling and stiffness made the severity obvious.

The Maester did what he could, but the infection had spread to the point where even amputation would not stop it. “If it already travels through his veins, the presence of the original source has little effect on what comes after.” He claimed. “Best to clean the wound, use the pastes and tonics.” He paused for a moment, “And pray.”

Laneor had laughed at this, too, claiming his arm ached but he was fine.

He seemed it, too. Until the fever came.

After that, his condition deteriorated rapidly.

Rhaenys spent hours at the altar. Perhaps that was what motivated Rhaenyra to do it—to visit the only place she had truly felt the gods presence. Or at least one god's presence.

The task was harder now that she was more than halfway through her pregnancy. Everything was harder now. But the steps felt especially treacherous now that she was unable to see her foot placement over her swollen belly. She was nervous too, which didn’t help. Far more nervous now than she had on her wedding day.

Though there was no reason to be, it turned out.

The ruby eyes of the dragon Caraxes followed her as she opened the steel door to the obsidian room. .

The room was different than she remembered. It was cold. Or rather, it wasn’t warm, not like it had been.

She swallowed as she approached the statue—missing the arms she swore she had felt, and the mouth she had kissed. Whatever she had coupled with that night had been more than her imagination, she knew that now. The evidence of this grew bigger each day—for she grew bigger each day. She palmed her stomach before reaching out to touch the shoulder of the obsidian torso—the stone was cold, like ice.

Yes—she knew what she had coupled with that night had been more than her imagination.

But whatever she had coupled with that night was gone now, she knew that too.

Her eyes strayed to the sky during the funeral, even before the pyre was lit. She swore she saw a dragon circling ahead, or something too big to be a bird, with shiny red reptilian scales in addition to wings. Laena squeezed her arm, and Rhaenyra turned her attention back to the service.

When she looked up again, whatever the creature was, it was gone.

The only tears that fell from her eyes that day were from the smoke—making her eyes itch in a way the loss of her husband hadn’t.

The town seemed to be buzzing—rumors had spread that inhabitants were returning to the great keep, named Dragonstone after the island it sat on. It was an intimidating structure, and said to be very grand inside, but the definition of grand on Dragonstone paled compared to the Crownlands or Essos. Clearly it wasn’t enough for her distant relatives, the Targaryen’s, who had left the island centuries ago and taken the dragon’s with them.

Dragonstone was not entirely uninhabited. The Septon’s and Maesters retained residence there, with special permissions, and was maintained by a skeletal staff with servants split between the keep and nearby stone cottages.

Having existed long before the village itself, the keep was built with the intention to serve the soldiers and a large number of attendants in addition to the ancestral family. When the family left, this practice remained, leaving crypts, springs, places for prayer, and the kitchens accessible to all.

Rhaenyra knew the lower floors offered little insight into the grandeur of the structure. It was hard to consider anyone who lived there—in the servants chambers—an inhabitant, for they too were limited from enjoying its glory.

It was exciting, Rhaenyra supposed, but she was more concerned with what lived in her womb at that moment, than what lived in the keep. Her babe was expected in mere weeks and she couldn’t help but worry—for herself, and for the baby. If it was a baby.

She had nightmares of a midwife placing a bundle into her arms. In one, the weight of it felt strange, and when she pushed back its blanket, the babe was nothing but black stone.

In another, the lively human wails made her sob in relief. But when she attempted to lift the babes head and help it latch, she found a hissing dragon that left her breasts bloodstreaked.

Her worry was for naught.

“A god was watching over this one, watching over them both, never seen a first labor like it.” The midwife said, after it was over.

Rhaenyra was grateful for the apparent ease of it—though it had still hurt to the point she screamed and threatened the poor woman’s life. She was not eager to repeat this, much less a dozen times like some villagers had. But it could have been worse.

So much worse.

She blinked away the memory of how her mother had been flayed.

And the babe…he was perfect.

A little boy. Ten fingers and ten toes. Ruddy cheeks and bright eyes and hair as white as ash. She was immediately besotted with him, stroking his hair as he mouthed at the bud of her breast.

“Lusty, that one.” The midwife said, and Rhaenyra wasn’t sure if she should cry or laugh, because all she could think was, yes, just like his father.

She missed the arrival of the Lord that had returned to Dragonstone, for it had occurred the same day at the birth of Ba—she swallowed the name. It was considered bad luck to name a babe in its first fortnight of life. Rhaenys said it was only to be done after the infant had been offered to the gods.

Rhaenyra put this task off for seventeen days. Using healing as an excuse until she could no longer.

She never made it to the crypt.

She stumbled on the hem of her dress—it was one from when she was pregnant and without the roundness of her belly it was too long. It was an easy alteration to make but Rhaenyra despised hemming with a passion, and so it had not yet been done.

She was relieved when she was saved from injury by someone catching her arm. She knew the firm grip belonged to a man before she looked at him, but she had not expected it to be him.

He was more handsome in daylight, she thought. His skin was so bright he almost glowed, and his eyes shone more like jewels or glass than anything human. He was beautiful—if he existed at all.

His name was caught in her throat, as he looked down at her expectantly. She had never seen him standing, had she? Never been able to appreciate the breadth of his shoulders and how his height compared to her.

“Are you alright?” The man asked, and gods, even the voice was what she remembered.

She blinked, her voice hoarse when she replied, “No, I think perhaps I’ve seen a ghost.”

He smirked, leaning in slightly—his hand notably still on her arm. His breath smelled warm, spicy and sweet and it made her want to do nothing but breathe in the aroma of him.

His voice was low, “I think, deliciae, I’ve seen something I’d like to eat.”

She shivered—the prospect arousing, for she remembered that act well…but, wait—gods, her voice was a panicked whisper, “You don’t mean the baby, do you?”

He laughed. A masculine yet musical sound full of such mirth and humor it almost wiped away her worry before he answered, “No, Rhaenyra, I do not mean the baby.” His attention was turned to the babe now, though, looking down at the bundle in her arms.

“He is beautiful.” His eyes glanced up to her own, “I think he looks quite like his father.”

She did not disagree.

“Tragic, how young you’ve been widowed—I do hope you would allow me, as the new Lord of Dragonstone, to offer you aid if you are ever in need of it. In need of anything.” He said, the last part sounding sinful in the tone he used.

“I thank you for that but—-” he cut her off, “There is little reason to go there now, Rhaenyra. Baelon is a fine name for a son. I’m positive your gods would approve.”

His fingers were stroking the trim of her sleeve, and then the strip of exposed skin below it.

“Join me for a meal instead?” He asked.

She nodded.

She had never eaten so much or so well. He fed her quail and meat pies and pudding and syrupy wine, until she swore she had never been so full in her life.

He insisted she had room for just a little bit more, before feeding her his cock. It was a clumsy act, a mess of drool and gagging around the length, but he seemed pleased all the same, watching with a smile and gently stroking her hair while she sucked.

She had barely wiped the seed from her chin before she was in his lap and her breasts freed from her dress. He looked awed by them, swollen with milk and larger than they had been even a few months ago. His thumbs brushed her nipples, before his tongue descended—giving them far more attention than they had ever known before.

He did not move away when the milk came—quite the opposite. He lapped up what spilled before sucking the rosy peak between his lips. She wasn’t sure why it felt so good—but it did, the relief and the pleasure of it all was almost enough to make her come. She thought she might have, when his lips swallowed the other breast, and she sobbed while curling herself around his head.

No part of her wanted him to stop, but she pulled at his hair and pleaded, “Leave some for Baelon.” The words a mere gasp on her tongue.

He pulled away, though looked quite pathetic as he did.

“Pity, the sacrifices a father must make to keep their son from going hungry.”

She stiffened—he had fully admitted it with that statement, hadn’t he?

“What does that make me, if he is your son?” She asked.

“You are my deliciae, but if that is not enough, then I shall have to make you my wife, too.”

Her second marriage was consummated mere minutes after the vows were said.

The taste of blood made Daemon thirst for something else, he claimed.

She did not find it so invigorating—though she was pleased when she did not find it grotesque, either. Daemon was smug when she admitted this—that his blood was far more palatable than her first husband’s. He promised he would bleed for her eagerly if she desired it.

She found she desired a different part of him in that moment—and she helped herself to it, sliding down the appendage with a long moan.

He had to carry her back to the keep, her legs refused to work. But that was alright, their function was not required in what he had planned.

“It is tradition,” He said, when he pressed his length into her once more, “For us to conceive on your wedding night.”

definition of deliciae | latin

1, delight, pleasure (an activity which affords enjoyment)

2, pet, darling, sweetheart, beloved object

.end.

References, quotes via wikipedia:

a. Throughout the ancient Mediterranean images of Priapus with a phallus were used in deflowering rituals of newlywed, virgin brides. Though the bride would later consummate the marriage with her husband, the deity was said to impregnate her with her firstborn child.

In early times, this child begotten of the deity was sometimes then offered back to the deity as a sacrifice, just as the first fruits of all kinds were offered to the deity who provided them.

b. During preliminary marriage rites, Roman brides are supposed to have straddled the phallus of Mutunus to prepare themselves for intercourse. Arnobius says that Roman matrons were taken for a ride on Tutunus's "awful phallus" with its "immense shameful parts" and “Tutinus, upon whose shameful lap sit brides, so that the god seems to sample their shame before the fact.”

“Daemon” was based mostly on gods from the Aztec Pantheon who generally covered a realm of things — a sky god would provide water for crops, which would grow and represent new life, for example. But I primarily used: Tezcatlipoca as a reference, he is associated with a variety of concepts, including the night sky, hurricanes, obsidian, and conflict.

Snakes, serpents, and dragons were often a sign of evil, rebirth, fertility, and sensuality. There is like a wikipedia page for each religion and how horny/scared they are of them. This might have been what partially inspired my Oberyn / Daemon / Rhaenyra fic, lol.

Poems inspired by Catullus #2

#hotdaemyra #hotdaemyraautumn #hotd #kinktober #fanfic #amorous autumn #ao3 #daemyra #daemon x rhaenyra #house of the dragon #Rhaenyra Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen #fic #a03 #daemon x Rhaenyra #HOTD #Angie writes

28 notes · View notes

sonego · 3 months

Note

actually no it's not your place as a man to comment on what's women tearing other women down or this whole thing in general

hi thanks for stopping by. i'm nonbinary, i'm not a man. i don't know where you got that from since i believe a look at my blog (or even just my about if you don't follow me) will tell you that i'm nonbinary. i don't even know if this ask is in good faith or not, it doesn't feel like it is to me but feel free to correct me if i'm wrong, and maybe we can have a better discussion that doesn't involve answering an anonymous ask

that said i will respond bc it's not like i haven't thought about this myself so i guess that's an opportunity to talk about it.

is it my place to say what's women tearing other women down? i'm not a woman, so maybe not. i've posed this same question in that tag that i'm assuming made you send this ask? so yeah, fair, i can avoid commenting on that kind of thing next time. i've lived as a woman most of my life, i'm still considered and treated as a woman by some people, so i do want to say it's not like i'm completely removed from the concept of relationships between women. but like that is a whole can of worms and we're not getting into the socialization of trans people here so i'll just keep questioning myself on when it is appropriate for me to comment on issues pertaining women

which brings me to the other thing you say i shouldn't speak of, "this whole thing in general" which i assume is zverev's case/the issue of abusive men in sports and how players and fans talk about it? again idk correct me if i'm wrong. but uh. sorry but that feels insulting to me. i know it's a problem, a societal problem first and foremost, that disproportionately affects women. domestic violence and gender based violence are strongly linked. i don't think i've ever said anything that suggested i don't believe this. but that doesn't mean 1) only women should talk about it?? women need allies in this battle. 2) only women are victims of domestic violence. and again, i think it's insulting to suggest i, a survivor of domestic violence, shouldn't talk about this? you might not know. fair. i've mentioned it on here lately but you might not follow me or have seen it. but it's not hard to think of the fact that domestic violence affects children of any gender, that trans people are also disproportionately victims of it and that literally anyone can be a victim

sorry but even if i'm not a woman and frankly even if i was a trans man, that doesn't mean i can't know what gender based violence is like, i've lived it on my own skin multiple times throughout my life and it affects me to this day and i'm not gonna sit here and not talk about it just bc i'm not what most people would think someone "qualified" to speak on it is

sorry if i sound aggressive. sorry if i assumed you should know things about me that you maybe didn't know. but honestly you came onto my blog, on anon, and kinda assumed things about me yourself when you had the information here on this very blog so?

#nico answers #anon #i was debating if i should even answer this #but it IS important to me that i don't speak over anyone #so this might be a good opportunity for people (especially women) who follow me to let me know if you ever feel like i'm speaking on #something that is not my place to speak on or if i ever make you feel unsafe in any way #as for the rest i just. idk. it made me feel pretty bad even if again i understand ppl don't have to know things about me??#but if you're coming on my blog with this kind of thing it just. would be nice if you didn't assume whatever you like about me?#and i'm more than open to discussing this subject and my role in it inside this online community! but not if you're gonna start the #discussion by misgendering me #abuse tw #alexander zverev #<- for blacklisting purposed i hope this won't show up in his tag lol

12 notes · View notes

thepastisalreadywritten · 9 months

Text

SAINT OF THE DAY (August 9)

On August 9, the Catholic Church remembers St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, also known as St. Edith Stein.

St. Teresa converted from Judaism to Catholicism in the course of her work as a philosopher and later entered the Carmelite Order.

She died in the Nazi concentration camp at Auschwitz in 1942.

Edith Stein was born on 12 October 1891 – a date that coincided with her family's celebration of Yom Kippur, the Jewish “day of atonement.”

Edith's father died when she was just two years old, and she gave up the practice of her Jewish faith as an adolescent.

As a young woman with profound intellectual gifts, Edith gravitated toward the study of philosophy and became a pupil of the renowned professor Edmund Husserl in 1913.

Through her studies, the non-religious Edith met several Christians whose intellectual and spiritual lives she admired.

After earning her degree with the highest honors from Gottingen University in 1915, she served as a nurse in an Austrian field hospital during World War I.

She returned to academic work in 1916, earning her doctorate after writing a highly-regarded thesis on the phenomenon of empathy.

She remained interested in the idea of religious commitment but had not yet made such a commitment herself.

In 1921, while visiting friends, Edith spent an entire night reading the autobiography of the 16th-century Carmelite nun St. Teresa of Avila.

“When I had finished the book,” she later recalled, “I said to myself: This is the truth.”

She was baptized into the Catholic Church on the first day of January 1922.

Edith intended to join the Carmelites immediately after her conversion but would ultimately have to wait another 11 years before taking this step.

Instead, she taught at a Dominican school and gave numerous public lectures on women's issues.

In 1931, she spent her time writing a study of St. Thomas Aquinas and took a university teaching position in 1932.

In 1933, the rise of Nazism, combined with Edith's Jewish ethnicity, put an end to her teaching career.

After a painful parting with her mother, who did not understand her Christian conversion, she entered a Carmelite convent in 1934, taking the name “Teresa Benedicta of the Cross” as a symbol of her acceptance of suffering.

“I felt,” she wrote, “that those who understood the Cross of Christ should take upon themselves on everybody's behalf.”

She saw it as her vocation “to intercede with God for everyone, but she prayed especially for the Jews of Germany whose tragic fate was becoming clear."

“I ask the Lord to accept my life and my death,” she wrote in 1939, “so that the Lord will be accepted by his people and that his kingdom may come in glory, for the salvation of Germany and the peace of the world.”

After completing her final work, a study of St. John of the Cross entitled “The Science of the Cross,” Teresa Benedicta was arrested along with her sister Rosa (who had also become a Catholic) and the members of her religious community on 7 August 1942.

The arrests came in retaliation against a protest letter by the Dutch Bishops, decrying the Nazi treatment of Jews.

Teresa Benedicta of the Cross died in the concentration camp at Auschwitz on 9 August 1942.

Pope John Paul II beatified her as a martyr on 1 May 1987 and then canonized 11 years later on 11 October 1998.

She is one of the six patron saints of Europe, together with Benedict of Nursia, Cyril and Methodius, Bridget of Sweden, and Catherine of Siena.

#Saint of the Day #St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross #St. Edith Stein

9 notes · View notes

scarfacemarston · 2 years

Note

does abigail have any strong opinions about the other members of the Van der Linde gang besides John and... i guess jack??

Yes, she does. You have to be around camp and near her though. Abigail has talked about feeling cut off from the gang and dealing with the "pity and disgust" towards her or just ignoring her completely outside of a greeting. Sadie is her best friend and has a few really meaningful conversations including encouraging her to continue on with her life. They are seen sitting together sometimes, but Sadie is gone from camp a lot. Sadie goes to visit her and John in the epilogue. She is always with Hosea and talks about him as a father figure and helps with Jack's education. He is one of the few people who believe in her as a moral woman and treats her as more than a mother while also encouraging her to leave the gang for her safety and Jack's. He also says she is the best thief, conwoman, and actress he's ever known. Arthur is a close friend of hers depending on how you play the game, but you can't play the game without them interacting a lot. She's very friendly with Charles and is one of the few who asks about his injured hand in chapter 1 and they become even closer in chapter 6. However, he isn't actually around her much until chapter 6. There seems to be evidence that suggests that Tilly is her other closest friend. They are seen together multiple times, she comes to Abigail for advice and kindly helps with Jack. Then there's Uncle who she considers family. The rest or hit or miss. She detests Micah and Micah harasses her more than he does any of the other women. Joe and Cleet harass her as well, but they harass the other women, too. She can't stand Miss Grimshaw because she tries to force her back into prostitution. She also makes nasty snide passive-aggressive comments. Grimshaw may be harsh with the other girls, but has never had a kind moment with Abigail.

Abigail seems to be one of the first people to lose faith in Dutch and is seemingly peeved with him in the intro of chapter 2. It also affects how John is treated throughout the game and by Dutch. Abigail becomes more and more disgusted with him as time goes on and gets annoyed when Dutch gives lectures telling him she "would rather focus on her son being fed". BUT is thankful he helped with Jack. However, Dutch and Abigail mutually dislike each other later in the game. He thinks she poisoned John. Lenny seems to be friendly with her based on how he greets her and Lenny loves Jack. Nothing more than that, unfortunately. Sean also tends to be pretty chill around her but they don't really interact. Sean does hang out with Jack. Mary-Beth never has a conversation in the game with her. Abigail is seen patting her back after Molly's death and I found a deleted scene of her asking about Tilly's whereabouts. Mary-Beth and Karen appear to be two of the people that gossip about her. So I think they "politely" tolerate each other. I think Mary-Beth has an issue with her. Karen is kinder to her though and has comforted her when Jack was taken and has defended her from John, but she has also some harsh words towards her. Kieran is tolerated. She didn't want him near her or Jack at first, but she did stop Jack from bullying him. She then was devastated when Jack was taken. He took the time to apologize to her directly. He seems to like Jack and wants to be friendly toward her. Molly seems to confide and trust her which is interesting considering how different they are from each other. I would have loved to have seen more from them. Josiah Trelawny sadly doesn't seem to do much more than greet her and Jack which I think is a missed opportunity. Javier doesn't do much except greet her, but Javier does include her as a traitor in his mind and has called them out. He doesn't seem to like her. In rdr 1, Abigail has been blunt that Bill and Javier made her uncomfortable. A friend of mine stated that Bill seems intimidated by her. I think Bill and Javier mentioned something about her being the rat but I could be wrong. Abigail mentions that she used to love hearing Rev. Swanson's bible readings and preachings. I think he's around her in chapter 6 more. I don't know how much Abigail would have wanted him around her while he was using drugs. Nothing else I can think of. Arthur says everyone - especially the women - finds Strauss creepy. Mr. Pearson seems to interact more with Jack than her. (That seems to be the general rule here.) I haven't seen or found anything other than mostly cheerful greetings. I think he might sit with her in chapter 6. Not sure.

147 notes · View notes

loiladadiani · 10 months

Text

Photographs: 1. Portrait of Princess Maria Elimovna Meshcherskaya; 2. Miniature of young Tsarevich Alexander Alexandrovich; 3. Sasha; 4. Maria; 5. Another beautiful photograph of Maria; 6. Maria with her aunt; 7. Maria on horseback in a riding outfit; 8. Another photo of Maria; 9. Maria and her husband, Paul Demidov (often spelled Demidoff), Prince of San Donato (apparently, the marriage was not arranged).

Alexander III's first love (it was not Dagmar)

The portrait of Alexander III that has come down to us through history is undoubtedly flat. It tells us that he was a good, faithful husband, a devoted father, and a champion of autocracy. Yes, he had a temper; no, he did not like to dance; he preferred to drink with the boys. He was respected enough by his family that he could keep it in order. Unfortunately, he died too young.

His diaries at the State Archives of the Russian Federation tell a different story. I don't know if the diaries are complete. Authorities found three missing notebooks in 2015. Here and there, you can find comments by authors and scholars alluding to the fact that his entries show a degree of emotional depth that surprises all. It is through these diaries that we learn about Sasha's first love, Princess Maria Elimovna Meshcherskaya (1844-1868), daughter of Prince Elim Petrovich Meschersky (1808-1844), Chamberlain of the Imperial Court and a poet; her life was quite short and tragic. According to those who knew her (such as Count Serge D. Sheremetiev and Countess Kleinmichel), she was one of the prettiest young women in St. Petersburg. She had brown hair and large black eyes. The young woman was an orphan from an early age, and her aunt Princess Baryatinskaya brought her up. One source says she met young Grand Duke Alexander at a costume ball (she looked stunning in an Egyptian costume.) Regardless, they often met at Court, as the princess was Maid of Honour to Empress Maria Alexandrovna, and they fell in love. At that time, Alexander was not Heir to the throne and might have harbored hopes to marry her. But, in 1865, his beloved brother, Tsarevich Nicholas, died, and with his death, all possibilities of Alexander marrying Maria disappeared. As Tsarevich and future Emperor of Russia, Alexander knew he had to marry someone of royal blood.

Alexander's brother Nicholas had been engaged to young Princess Dagmar of Denmark. For political reasons, both royal houses still wanted an alliance between them to take place. A trip to Denmark was planned for the new Tsarevich only a few months after Nicholas's death. Sacha understood what this meant. A plan to have him marry his brother's fiance was afoot. He felt torn between his duty to his father and country and his love for Maria Meshcherskaya. He also felt unprepared to become Emperor and thought of renouncing his position as Heir, which would leave him free to marry Maria. He tried to avoid seeing her. On June 25, 1865, he wrote in his diary that this was difficult as they used to see each other twice daily. However, he was thinking more and more about Dagmar and felt the need to have a wife (meaning Dagmar). But soon, his determination wavered; he continued to see Maria, and his love for her deepened through the summer and autumn of 1865. On March 23, 1866, however, he wrote in his journal, "I will say goodbye to M.E., whom I loved as I have loved no one before." But two months later, he, once more, had a change of heart. As a trip to Denmark was imminent, he wrote, "I grew to love her (M.E.) even more fervently, strongly, passionately. Now I am only trying to escape this difficult situation and, if possible, to marry sweet M.E. I want to refuse to marry Dagmar, whom I cannot and don't want to love." When Alexander II confronted his son with stories about him and Maria Mescherskaya (a story had made it to the Danish papers about the Tsarevich not wanting to marry their princess because of his affection for another woman), the Tsarevich answered that he could not go to Denmark and did not want to marry Dagmar. The Emperor gave him 24 hours to reconsider. The next day Alexander II again asked his son about the Danish wedding: Sasha replied that he did not feel he could love Dagmar and added that he had decided to renounce his position as Heir because he did not feel he could do a proper job. Alexander II got quite angry, talked about duty, and ordered his son to go to Denmark, adding he would send Princess Mescherskaya away. Alexander obeyed his father, went to Copenhagen, and proposed to Princess Dagmar. And as they say, the rest is history. The marriage of two people who had started loving others (Dagmar had loved Nixa, and Alexander had loved Maria.) turned out to be very loving and successful.

Alexander II did ask Princess Mescherskaya to leave Court immediately. Young Sasha had pleaded with his mother that the young woman not be punished. She went abroad with her aunt and settled in Paris, where she met a Russian diplomat, Paul Demidov (often spelled Demidoff), Prince of San Donato, and married him. Demidov was one of the most eligible bachelors of his time, having inherited one of the largest fortunes in Russia! The couple lived abroad. Sadly enough, Maria died in 1868 after giving birth to a son she would not live to see grow up. Her husband, who later married again, grieved her death long and deeply. (gcl)

#Alexander III #Alexander II #Princess Dagmar of Denmark #Empress Maria Feodorovna #Empress Maria Alexandrovna #Princess Maria Mescherskaya #Paul Demidov #imperial russia #romanov dynasty

14 notes · View notes

frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 3 months

Text

1st February >> Fr. Martin's Reflections / Homilies on Today's Mass Readings for the

Feast of Saint Brigid (Inc. Luke 6:32-38) (Ireland)

and for

Thursday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time (Inc. Mark 6:7-13)

Feast of Saint Brigid, Abbess, Secondary Patron of Ireland

Gospel (Except USA) Luke 6:32-38 Be compassionate just as your Father is compassionate. Ps 106 (107):35-38, 41-42. R/. v. 1

Jesus said to his disciples:

‘If you love those who love you, what thanks can you expect? Even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what thanks can you expect? For even sinners do that much. And if you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what thanks can you expect? Even sinners lend to sinners to get back the same amount. Instead, love your enemies and do good, and lend without any hope of return. You will have a great reward, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.

‘Be compassionate as your Father is compassionate. Do not judge, and you will not be judged yourselves; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned yourselves; grant pardon, and you will be pardoned. Give, and there will be gifts for you: a full measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over, will be poured into your lap; because the amount you measure out is the amount you will be given back.’

Reflections (6)

(i) Feast of Saint Brigid

And/Or

(ii) Feast of Saint Brigid

Saint Brigid was born around 454. When she was young, her father wished to make a very suitable marriage for her, but she insisted on devoting her life completely to God. She received the veil and spiritual formation probably from Saint Mel and stayed for a period under his direction in Ardagh. Others followed her example and this led her to found a double monastery in Kildare with the assistance of Bishop Conleth. She died in 524 and her cult is widespread not only throughout Ireland but in several European lands. As well as being a person of deep prayer, she was renowned for her hospitality, her almsgiving and her care of the sick. That is why the church has chosen the reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans as an option for her feast day. The reading concludes by calling on us to ‘contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers’. Brigid did both. She served the members of the church, the saints, and she also showed hospitality to strangers, those who were not part of the church. In the language of that first reading, she discovered her gift, the particular grace given to her, and she placed that gift at the service of others. We have all been given some particular grace; our gifts will differ according to the grace that has been given to us. Our calling is to try and discern our own particular gifts, the unique way that the Holy Spirit has graced us, and to place those gifts at the service of the Lord, and of others, both those who are part of the church, the ‘saints’ and those who are not, ‘strangers’.

And/Or

(iii) Feast of Saint Brigid

We know very little about the life of Brigid. She was probably born around the middle of the fifth century and died at the beginning of the sixth century. At a young age she seems to have devoted her life completely to God. She founded a monastery of Kildare which contributed to the spread of Christianity in Ireland. The stories that have come down about her in her various Lives depict her as a woman of deep prayer and as someone whose life was characterized by great generosity and deep compassion, especially for the needy and the broken. In this morning’s first reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans, Paul mentions various gifts that can be expected to be found among the members of Christ’s body. Two in particular seem to fit the profile of Bridgid as it has come down to us in the literature about her, ‘let the almsgivers give freely... and those who do the works of mercy do them cheerfully’. It seems that Brigid gave alms freely and did many works of mercy cheerfully. That lovely reading concludes with ‘if any of the saints are in need you mist share with them, and you should make hospitality your special care’. Again Brigid shared with those in need and had a reputation for a very hospitable spirit. He cult extended beyond the shores of this island. I was only reading recently that in England there were at least nineteen ancient church dedications in her honour, the most famous being Saint Bride’s in Fleet Street. It is clear that her great love of the Lord which was nourished by a life of prayer found expression in a very practical love of others, especially of those in any need. She can continue to inspire us to live the gospel to the full and to find joy in doing so.

And/Or

(iv) Feast of Saint Brigid

Saint Brigid is the secondary patron of Ireland, after Saint Patrick. She was born around 454. When she was young her father wished to make a suitable marriage for her but she insisted that she wanted to consecrate herself to God. She received the veil and spiritual formation probably from Saint Mel and she stayed for a while under his direction in Ardagh. Others followed her example and this led to her founding a double monastery in Kildare, with a section for men and a section for women. Through Brigid’s reputation as a spiritual teacher, the monastery became a centre of pilgrimage. She died in 524 and she is venerated not only throughout Ireland but in several European lands. She was renowned for her hospitality, almsgiving and care of the sick. The gospel reading is very suited for her feast because it calls on us to be generous not only to those who are generous to us but even to our enemies. Jesus declares in that gospel reading, ‘Give, and there will be gifts for you: a full measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over, will be poured into your lap’. Jesus is saying there that if our focus is on giving, then we will discover that we receive more than we give. It could be said to the contrary that if our focus is on receiving then we will be ultimately disappointed. It is not the case that we give with a view to receiving. It is simply that we give in various ways, in accordance with our gifts, abilities and energies, and we discover along the way that we are actually receiving more than we are giving. Our giving creates an opening for the Lord to grace us. The most generous form of giving, according to the gospel reading, is to love those who do not love us and to give to those from whom we have no hope of receiving anything in return. This kind of giving, according to the gospel reading, has something of God about it, because God is just as kind to the ungrateful and the wicked as he is to those who are good. Such selfless giving opens up our hearts to receiving a great abundance from the Lord, what the gospel reading calls, a ‘full measure’.

And/Or

(v) Feast of Saint Brigid

Saint Brigid is the secondary patron of Ireland, after Saint Patrick. She was born around 454. When she was young her father wished to make a suitable marriage for her but she insisted that she wanted to consecrate herself to God. She received the veil and spiritual formation probably from Saint Mel and she stayed for a while under his direction in Ardagh. Others followed her example and this led to her founding a double monastery in Kildare, with a section for men and a section for women. Through Brigid’s reputation as a spiritual teacher, the monastery became a centre of pilgrimage. She died in 524 and she is venerated not only throughout Ireland but in several European lands. She was renowned for her hospitality, almsgiving and care of the sick. All of her service of others flowed from a rich interior spiritual life. The two readings for this feast express both the interior dimension of the Christian life and its outward expression of service. In the first reading, Saint Paul prays for the church in Ephesus, asking that their hidden self, their inner self, would grow strong, so that Christ may live in their hearts through faith. It is a wonderful way of speaking about the inner dimension of our lives as followers of the Lord. Christ wants to live in our hearts through our faith, so that our hidden self, or inner self, may grow strong. In that reading Paul goes on to identify our inner self growing strong with being filled with the utter fullness of God. When Christ lives deep within us, when we are filled with his fullness of God, then our inner self will grow strong. In the gospel reading, Jesus speaks of the outer life that flows from such an inner self. It is a life of generous self-giving love of others, including those who are hostile to us. It is a compassionate life that is slow to judge, slow to condemn and ready to forgive. As Jesus says, it is a life that befits sons and daughters of the Most High who is kind to ungrateful and the wicked. Saint Brigid embodied both that deep interior life that Paul speaks about in the first reading and the generous outer life that Jesus speaks about in the gospel reading. On this, her feast day, we look to her, asking her to help us to grow into the fully mature follower of the Lord that she was.

And/Or

(vi) Feast of Saint Brigid

Saint Brigid is the secondary patron of Ireland, after Saint Patrick. She was born around 454. When she was young her father wished to make a suitable marriage for her but she insisted that she wanted to consecrate herself to God. She received the veil and spiritual formation probably from Saint Mel and she stayed for a while under his direction in Ardagh. Others followed her example and this led to her founding a double monastery in Kildare, with a section for men and a section for women. Through Brigid’s reputation as a spiritual teacher, the monastery became a centre of pilgrimage. She died in 524 and she is venerated not only throughout Ireland but in several European lands. She was renowned for her hospitality, almsgiving and care of the sick. Saint Brigid’s cross remains a popular sign of God’s protection. In legend it was used by Brigid to explain the Christian faith. The first reading that is chosen for Saint Brigid’s feast day is that wonderful prayer of Saint Paul from his letter to the Ephesians, one of my favourite passages in the New Testament. Paul is praying in intercession for his church, praying for their ‘hidden self to grow strong’, which he equates with Christ living in their heart through faith. Our hidden self grows strong when Christ lives there. The more Christ lives within us, the stronger our hidden self will be. Brigid clearly had a strong hidden self in that sense. Christ lived in and through her. That is the baptismal calling of each one of us, to allow Christ to live in us, so that our deepest self is spiritually strong. Paul also equates Christ living in us with knowing the love of Christ, not just with our head but with our heart. When the love of Christ dwells in us, then, says Paul, we will be filled with the utter fullness of God. This is the goal of all our lives. It is a goal that will never be fully attained in this earthly life, but we can journey ever closer to it in this life, with the help of the Holy Spirit. When our inner self is strong in that sense, it will show itself in the kind of life that Jesus portrays in the gospel reading, a loving, compassionate, non-judgemental life, marked by a willingness to forgive. From all we know of her, this was Brigid’s way of life and she remains an inspiration to us.

------------------------------------------

Thursday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Except USA) Mark 6:7-13 'Take nothing with you'.

Jesus made a tour round the villages, teaching. Then he summoned the Twelve and began to send them out in pairs giving them authority over the unclean spirits. And he instructed them to take nothing for the journey except a staff – no bread, no haversack, no coppers for their purses. They were to wear sandals but, he added, ‘Do not take a spare tunic.’ And he said to them, ‘If you enter a house anywhere, stay there until you leave the district. And if any place does not welcome you and people refuse to listen to you, as you walk away shake off the dust from under your feet as a sign to them.’ So they set off to preach repentance; and they cast out many devils, and anointed many sick people with oil and cured them.

Gospel (USA) Mark 6:7-13 Jesus summoned the Twelve and began to send them out.

Jesus summoned the Twelve and began to send them out two by two and gave them authority over unclean spirits. He instructed them to take nothing for the journey but a walking stick –no food, no sack, no money in their belts. They were, however, to wear sandals but not a second tunic. He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave from there. Whatever place does not welcome you or listen to you, leave there and shake the dust off your feet in testimony against them.” So they went off and preached repentance. The Twelve drove out many demons, and they anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

Reflections (7)

(i) Thursday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

The disciples whom Jesus had earlier called and who have been with him for some time are now ready to be sent out on mission. They are to travel light, so as to be open to what God will give them through those to whom they preach the gospel. They are not to be so self-sufficient that they feel they have everything they need and nothing to receive from those to whom they are sent. Yes, they have much to give to others, the richness of the gospel, the life-giving power of the Lord, but they also have something to receive from others. The Lord is reminding us that we are dependent on each other. This is especially the case within the realm of faith. The Lord wants to work through us for the building up of others in the Lord and the Lord also wants to work through others for our building up. We are to be generous enough to share what the Lord gives us with others and humble enough to receive from others what the Lord has given them. This is the essential nature of the church. Saint Paul expressed this nature of the church when he spoke of the church as the body of Christ in which no one was self-sufficient and everyone was needed. It is very much a vision of church for our time. All of the baptized are called to be both givers and receivers. As the Lord sent out the Twelve, the Lord sends each one of us to everyone else and is sending others to each one of us. We are always to be asking ourselves, ‘To whom is the Lord sending me?’ and ‘Whom is the Lord sending to me?’

And/Or

(ii) Thursday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

We tend to attach a lot of importance to preparing for every eventuality. We like to feel that we are in control and that if anything unexpected happens we will have the resources to deal with it. In this morning’s gospel reading Jesus sends out the twelve remarkably unprepared by today’s standards. They were to take nothing for their journey except a staff, no bread, no haversack, no coppers for their purses. They can wear sandals but they were not to bring a spare tunic. As he sent them out, they were certainly not in control; they were not self-sufficient. Rather, they were to depend on the generosity and hospitality of those who welcomed their ministry. Perhaps Jesus was trying to teach them that, in reality, they are not in control; God was ultimately in control and they would have to learn to trust in God more than in themselves. There is a message there that we all need to keep on learning. The reality is that we are not in control of our lives, not matter how well we prepare ourselves for unexpected eventualities. A brush with serious illness can bring that home to us. Suddenly, all our plans and preparations have to be put to one side. The realization that we are not in control of our lives, that we are not Lord of our lives, frees us to surrender ourselves more fully to God, the real Lord of our lives.

And/Or

(iii) Thursday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

When Jesus sends out the twelve to share in his mission in this morning’s gospel reading, he anticipates that not everyone will welcome their words or their works. Jesus had just been rejected by the people of Nazareth in the passage immediately preceding our gospel reading. His disciples can expect something similar at times. In the words of the gospel reading, Jesus anticipates that the disciples will enter places which do not welcome them and where people refuse to listen to them. Yet, that experience of failure is not to discourage them, just as it did not discourage Jesus. They are to be faithful to their calling to share in Jesus’ mission, in season and out of season, regardless of how they are received. In spite of the experience of failure and rejection, the disciples did great good, proclaiming the gospel and healing the sick. The Lord encourages us to keep being faithful to our baptismal calling, in spite of the setbacks along the way, whether they are failings in ourselves or failings in others. We are to be more attentive to the Lord’s call and promise than to the negative voices that come to us from others or from within ourselves.

And/Or

(iv) Thursday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

When Jesus chose a group of twelve from among the larger group of disciples, he chose the number twelve very deliberately, as an echo of the twelve tribes of Israel. He seems to have seen the group of twelve as the nucleus of a renewed Israel. They were to have a special role in Jesus’ mission of renewing God’s people. In this morning’s gospel reading, we have Mark’s account of Jesus sending out the twelve for the first time to share in his mission. It is noteworthy that Jesus sends them out in pairs. Rather than twelve individuals going off in twelve different directions, there are six groups of two going off in six different directions. Some might think that it would have been more effective to send out the twelve individually; in that way twice the area could have been covered. However, Jesus clearly saw a greater value in sending out the twelve in twos. No one was to work alone; each would have someone else to work alongside. As disciples of the Lord today, we still need to work together, rather than as individuals or loners. When we work together we learn to receive from and give to each other and, thereby, the Lord is more fully present to others. He did say that where two or three are gathered he would be there in their midst. Even Paul, the great apostle to the Gentiles, was very aware of the debt he owed to what he called his co-workers. The Lord needs us to work together if his work is to be done in today’s world. As members of the Lord’s body, we are interdependent. In the life of faith, we never go it alone.

And/Or

(v) Thursday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

In the instructions that Jesus gives to the twelve as he sends them out on mission, he takes it for granted that their message and ministry will not be well received everywhere. He makes reference to places that do not welcome them and to people who do not listen to them. In such situations, all they can do is walk away. Yet, the prospect of their message not being welcomed and listened to by some should not deter them. They are to preach the gospel and give expression to the gospel in their works of healing. Jesus himself knew that his message and mission would not be welcomed by everyone but would be rejected by some in the most violent way possible. The situation with regard to preaching the gospel today is not any different to how it was for Jesus and his first disciples. We are called to be people of faith in a context that is not always supportive of faith. When we come up against a lack of openness to faith, or indifference or even hostility, it can easily unsettle our own faith. Today, more than even, we need a faith that is not dependent on the approval of others. Ultimately, our faith needs to be rooted in the Lord; it is a response to his faith in us, his faithfulness to us. It is the Lord’s faithful presence to us that keeps us faithful, regardless of how are faith is received by others. One of the ways we experience the Lord’s faithful presence is in and through the community of faith, the family of his follower. The first reading speaks of the church is which everyone is a first born and a citizen of heaven. We need to belong there, to be grounded there, if we are to experience the Lord’s faithful presence to the full, so as to witness to our faith even in settings that have little appreciation for it.

And/Or

(vi) Thursday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

There comes a time in life when we need to let others do what we have been doing. We have to let go so that others can take on. None of us can keep doing what we have been doing forever. We need the wisdom to know when to entrust some of our responsibility, some of our work, to others. We find that happening in both of today’s readings. As David comes towards the end of his life, he passes on his role as king, his responsibilities to God’s people, to his son Solomon. In the gospel reading, Jesus entrusts the twelve whom he had earlier chosen with a share in his mission. They had spent time with him and now he is ready to send them out as his ambassadors to preach what he has been preaching and to engage in his healing ministry. This happened reasonably early on in Jesus’ public ministry. We might be tempted to think that, like David, Jesus would have waited until nearer the end of his life before entrusting a share in his mission to others. However, it seems, for Jesus, this task of entrusting to others a share in his work couldn’t wait any longer than was absolutely necessary. The Lord desperately needs us to share in his work today. As members of his body the church, we are his feet, his arms, his legs, his eyes, his ears, his mouth, his heart and mind. As the Lord once expressed himself through his physical body, he now expresses himself through all of us, his ecclesial body. The Lord needs us all if his work is to continue today, and just as he sent out the twelve in pairs, in six groups of two, he does sends us out not as individuals but with others. He can work through us most effectively when we work together, pooling our gifts and resources.

And/Or

(vii) Thursday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Today’s first reading portrays in striking language the goal of our earthly journey. It speaks of ‘the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem… in which everyone is a ‘first born’ and a citizen of heaven’. In this heavenly city, the distinction between citizens and non-citizens will not apply. All will have equal access to God and to his Son. Jesus’ mission was to make something of this heavenly city a reality on earth. This is what he meant by proclaiming that the kingdom of God was at hand. He gathered people from all walks of life and backgrounds around himself, declaring that they could all be his brothers and sisters if they did the will of his heavenly Father, if they followed in the way of God’s Son. He taught his followers to pray to God his Father, ‘they kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven’. He called others to help him in his work of creating an opening for the coming of God’s kingdom, the city of the living God. This is what we find Jesus doing in today’s gospel reading, as he sends out the twelve to share in his mission of word and deed. In the course of the gospels, he calls and sends out many more, men and women. He needs each one of us to share in his work of creating an opening for the coming of the city of the living God, a community where all are cherished equally as sons and daughters of God and brothers and sisters of Christ. Our earthly cities fall far short at times of the city of the living God, but the Lord needs the goodness and the giftedness of us all if our earthly cities are to become more like the heavenly Jerusalem.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

2 notes · View notes