#oop lore reveal

[smol-dargon]

Not me posting a fourth chapter because I really wanted to see where this story would go

The air was completely still inside the mausoleum, as if the place were holding its breath. The knight shivered, her chain mail rattling. Her breath was visible in the air. This was not a place for them to linger, clearly.

In the floor ahead of them, several panels in the floor rattled, as if barely containing their occupants. Dan led the way, club at the ready. The knight raised her axe and nodded at him, prepared for whatever might come crawling out of the floors. He bashed the panels in one after the other, sending tiny gremlin creatures scurrying across the chamber. The knight had her hands full corralling and killing them all.

In short order, the room was silent again, save for the sound of their armored steps. One of the panels didn't have anything inside. Rather, it dropped out into a corridor below. With little else to go on, Dan hopped down. The knight followed quickly behind.

Their path was blocked by a stained glass panel. He hated to destroy such art, but he hoped the souls of the recently risen dead would forgive him. He had to pass in order to save the kingdom. The knight was one step ahead of him though; she destroyed the panel without a second thought. In fact, she looked rather upset at it. Beyond the shattered pane, more of the gremlin creatures scurried about, swiftly dispatched by her axe. She took a moment to catch her breath, looking even more distressed at the sight of three more pathways, each blocked by their own stained glass design.

He gave her a bit of a questioning look. It was one thing to be committed to saving Gallowmere. It was quite another to be so hateful towards art.

She heaved a great sigh and rubbed her knuckles as if they ached.

"My father sent me to a convent once for 'misbehaving'. I've hated anything that even smells like a church ever since."

He'd heard of such things happening in other places. Places far removed from his beloved Gallowmere. Women here might not always do the same things men did, but never were they punished for being unusual or unladylike. It explained why she had been so stressed about being discovered, and why she was so aggravated at the mere thought of not being respected as a knight.

"Sounds awful. Sorry."

He hoped even if she couldn't understand his words that his tone at least would carry. To his immense relief, she took a few moments to breathe before steeling herself to continue.

"Let's just get this over with. The sooner we're out of these halls, the better."

He took the lead this time. It was a good thing too. The left path send them down a corridor half blocked by jagged crystals. He smashed their way through a sea of them so she could charge into the room at the end and take care of the creatures within.

With that done, she picked up the rune in the corner. The corridor shuddered. The floor was suddenly very unstable beneath their feet. They both made a mad dash out, barely making it before the floor completely disintegrated. Perhaps that had been a trap. They would have to keep an eye out for other such designs.

The panel across from their original entrance was next. Just beyond it lay the gate the rune opened. Even before she placed the rune, they could hear more chattering creatures past a short drop-off into another chamber. Without waiting for him, she dashed ahead, eager to blow off some steam. By the time he caught up, she'd taken care of them all, then dashed up the stairs in search of more.

He shook his head. She could handle herself. It might do her some good to get the anger out. He noted a gate on the opposite end from the stairs, but without a rune to open it, all he could do was follow the knight back to the upper level.

He had barely left the staircase when he felt a sudden lightness at his hip. His sword was gone! He whipped around to see one of the gremlins tearing off with it. Annoyed, he decided to test something he'd been curious about since waking up again.

He pulled his left arm from its socket and threw it as hard as he could at the creature. It yipped and lost its grip on the sword, but his arm kept going. He groaned, but looked back just in time to see his arm heading straight back for the creature, streaking through the air like a boomerang. It hit the gremlin a second time, more than enough to take it out for good. He was quite pleased with himself!

He wasn't counting on his arm still having momentum when it made it back to him. His own arm backhanded him before clattering to the floor behind him. He was getting really tired of doing cool things and then immediately going back to being ungainly.

The knight reappeared around the corner, surveyed the scene, and couldn't suppress a hearty chuckle. She retrieved his sword from where it had fallen while he fumbled with getting his arm back into place. It was a little easier said than done.

"Uh... help?"

She snorted and held his sword out to him.

"I'll trade you."

She took his detached arm and gave him back the sword. Sheathing it one-handed was tricky, but he managed. After a brief moment surveying his shoulder and arm joints, she fitted them back into the proper places with a satisfying crack. He tested his limb out and made a mental note to never try that again.

"This leads back to the entryway and downstairs. I found the runes we need."

After a short trek through the halls, they were back at the three-way junction facing the final stained glass panel. She destroyed it, this time with a great deal less malice than before. The hall was once again crusted with sharp edges, which Dan helpfully cleared from their path.

She stopped him before he could step fully into the room at the end.

"If this one is booby trapped like the other one, I'm faster. I won't be long."

He retreated back to the junction to wait. Certainly enough, shortly after the sounds of combat faded, the building rumbled and shook. The knight came tearing back up the hall, narrowly throwing herself clear.

"Much easier that way, see?"

He chuckled and turned to continue down the center path once more. Back upstairs, she led him through the main chamber and into a side room. A ghostly organist banged away haphazardly at the keys. He was no musician, but he was pretty sure that wasn't how one played the organ.

The knight pulled a set of papers from her breastplate and offered them to the specter. He happily took them and placed them on the stand before him. After the first few chords, a side door opened, revealing yet another of the strange chalices.

Dan retrieved it and awaited the appearance of Canny Tim. However this time, he was met with another face.

"Ahh Fortesque! What's this I hear about that arch cad Zarok still being alive? Thought you killed the fella?"

Dan grimaced.

"Well, about that--"

"Never mind, you old war-horse, better show 'im what's what, eh? I expect Johnny Zombie's a bit more of a handful than you remember. How are you doing for weapons?"

Dan held his club out for the ghost to see, gesturing with his free hand to the mostly dull broadsword at his hip.

"Here, take my warhammer, it'll smash anything and it won't fall apart like a club. I only ever get to use it cracking walnuts around this place."

He started to refuse, worried he wouldn't be able to handle such a massive weapon.

"Nonsense, Fortesque, I won't take no for an answer. Knock a few heads for old Stanyer Iron Hewer, eh?"

With that, the spirit disappeared, leaving his massive warhammer behind. A bit doubtful, he did try to pick it up. It ended up lighter than he was expecting. He tucked it into place and prepared to continue. When they turned back around, the phantom of the organ had vanished.

At long last, they could open the final gate with the rune she had picked up. Down the hall were shards of glass jutting forth. But a path lay in the middle, just wide enough for a brazier on a pedestal. She scouted ahead and peeked around the corner.

"Aha! The beast's heart! We can set it alight and make killing him that much easier!"

She returned and they began the arduous task of pushing the stone monolith down the thin path between the crystals. It grated down the hall, sparks flying from the friction. Between the two of them, it was short work. At the end of the hall, a massive crystalline heart beat, floating serenely between a pair of statues. They redoubled their efforts and finally shoved the brazier into place beneath it. The heart beat faster in the heat before shattering into countless pieces.

Unlike the other corridors, this one didn't crumble beneath them. They checked over their weapons and armor and headed back up into the main chamber.

The final pane of stained glass bore the image of the demon himself. As they entered, the pane vibrated angrily. Without further warning, it shattered, the stained glass demon bursting forth with a shriek.

Dan charged in ahead of the knight, swinging viciously at the demon. It only took a few hits for him to realize nothing he did was even slowing the thing down. The demon leapt about, aiming to crush them beneath its talons.

The knight stayed well clear of the two of them, her axe stowed into a holster at her back. He wondered for a split second how she intended to help without a weapon. The demon took the opportunity to slam its fist into him, sending him flying across the room and into the wall.

The demon moved to the center of the room, charging an attack with its heart floating free of its chest. He drew the crossbow Canny Tim had given him, but before he could get fully to his feet and take aim, the knight stepped between him and the demon.

She took up a defensive stance. Her arms sparkled with a crackling blue energy, almost like lightning crawling towards her fingers. In the next moment, she let it fly. Twin beams of energy flew through the air towards the demon's heart, causing it a great deal of pain.

He managed to get back on his feet just in time to leap out of the way of a stream of glass shards the demon channeled from its heart. He was startled at the knight's ability to use magic, as it was incredibly uncommon among humans. But he didn't have much time to ruminate on it. Glass shards flew every which way, and he was hard pressed to hold the demon's attention so the knight could reposition.

She let him keep the thing's focus while she charged up another magical attack. The next time its heart came out, it froze Dan in a glass prison from his waist down. His weapon arm was trapped as well. Seeing this, she aimed one beam at the demon and the other at him. It hurt greatly, but it did free him, so he couldn't complain too much.

Between her magic and his crossbow bolts, the demon slowly began to weaken. Its attacks became more harried and frantic, even as it lost the strength to continue its assault. Seeing its tactics failing, it turned its attention to the knight instead. The jagged bits of glass streaked towards her. She raised a hand, creating some sort of barrier that stopped them just before they reached her. He took the opportunity to deal ever more damage to the cracking heart with Canny Tim's crossbow.

With these last few bolts, the heart shattered into pieces. The demon froze, cried out in anguish, and fell to the ground, where it too fell completely to pieces. Amid the pieces, an ornate key with a skull on it lay. He scooped it up and tucked it into his breastplate for safe keeping.

They breathed a collective sigh of relief. At last, they could leave the graveyard proper and take up the chase in earnest. The demon itself had given the. Their exit from the mausoleum, its empty pane leaving an opening from which they could carefully drop back into the graveyard below.

But before they could continue, Dan squared up to the knight properly. He didn't trust magic as far as he could throw it, especially after the mushroom incident. The entire court had done things they regretted that night...

"I have questions."

She nodded, her proud stance faltering under his scrutiny.

"I figured you might... What do you want to know?"

[prettybbychim]

capitano is the bloodstained knight for this reason, this reason, and this reason

no no no those are all well and good but trust me this right here is indisputable evidence. BEHOLD

[phonegreeks]

this came up on my for you page today and immediately reminded me of the king and queen😌😌

[kiwioala]

bingo card for today.. might make some adjustments later but IM SO EXCITED WE ONLY HAVE TWO HOURS LEFT UNTIL THE NEW MEMBERS ARRIVE!!!

[killjoy-prince]

I now know the context for the 'Doctor... you're huge' line

[variantia]

BELLUM.   also hilarious to me :

as someone who has what appears to be very strong magic, Lo would have been absolutely revered in the cult village where Chara was raised

she would have been considered their most powerful mage and probably crowned leader

this cult is only semi-religious, and above all else, they worship the magic of humans

they believe that monsters are unholy abominations because somewhere, they got the idea that monsters STOLE magic from humans

when it’s more complicated than that ; monsters are made of magic and there has never really been a monster incapable of magic, whereas humans struggle with magic and usually are only capable of doing a single spell which drains their energy significantly, humans who are capable of full, consistent magic are very rare

they would have been begging this woman to be their queen

as such, the current cult leader (Chara’s father and guardian who raised them in that village) would see her FOR HER MAGIC before he would see anything else about her

this means that upon first meeting her, he would have an immediate, tremendous respect for her.

... right up until the moment she punches him in the face and he’s spitting out blood while she starts in about HOW DARE YOU PUT THAT INNOCENT CHILD THROUGH SO MUCH PAIN, ISOLATION, AND HUMILIATION !!!

I have my own plans for him in this fic and several plot twists ready to fire (no spoilers uhuhu~)

but in the universe where Lo exists, welllll ... this bastard fucked.

I wish I could actually include him in a storyline, but there is SO much hidden lore around him, the cult, and Chara’s past that hasn’t been revealed in the fic yet, it would be impossible to do anything truly meaningful aside from him just getting punched in the face.

... of course, which I’d LOVE to happen   =)

don’t worry, once the fic is done, I will HAPPILY dive into a big meaningful thread wherein HIS BASTARD ASS GETS BEAT DOWN !!!!

[universestreasures]

@prominenceprison (BECAUSE WE HAVN'T HAD ANY OF THE CHRS IN NOBLES INTERACT WHO AREN'T IN THEIR SERIES SO ITS HIGH TIME WE FIX THAT, HUH?)

This was a risky move. Leaving the Akaba House unexpectedly and without her father's permission was practically a death sentence. He never liked any of his eight children making moves on their own, especially ones that involved escaping the reaches of the estate. However, at this moment, Yuzu doesn't care. For her escapade today was not to escape the horrible life she had been condemned to by a controlling parent, but rather to seek aid in finding the person she held most dear.

Yuya's disappearance was sudden, leaving the entire estate in a stat of chaos. His brothers, in some shape or form, had been dragged into conflict after conflict over these past few weeks. And then out of nowhere, her companion suddenly went missing overnight with no explanation. Yuzu knows Yuya wouldn't escape this place without his brothers or without telling her. So, the only logical conclusion is that he was taken by someone, but...who? No one knew of the true nature of the dragon retainers except for the Akaba Family, meaning no one knew of their true value.

The entire situation was puzzling. No one inside the Akaba House could provide any semblance of information, and...she didn't exactly feel comfortable contacting the Rainsworth or Dragon Star houses for assistance. Doing that would require, most likely, disclosing Yuya's true nature, something she wasn't exactly comfortable with doing with people she didn't know well.

That meant she only had one option, only one person she could turn to in a time like this: her aunt and sister to her mother, Eve.

Her aunt was rather estranged in a sense. Though, Yuzu knows tha'ts not my choice. It's no secret that her father wasn't exactly a fan of the Eden House's head mistress considering his ideals clashed with hers. Eve was always a proponent of helping people and the world around, while Lord Akaba was out for himself and his own ambitions. It was only natural the two would clash.

However, Eve still made sure to at least pay her nieces a visit whenever she could, usually through a public function. During those times, Yuzu and her would bond over a love of flowers and singing. Truly, they were precious memories for the young girl, ones that reminded her of her short-lived time with her mother. If there was anyone she could come to during a time of crisis, it would be Eve.

The young noble stands at the entrance to the Eden House, one that was beautifully surrounded by flowers and hedges. The building wasn't as big as the Akaba House, but that was mainly because her aunt preferred to keep most of the natural beauty of this area intact, only building the building to the size that would be needed for everyone to live and work. Those who admired her didn't call her 'Nature's Protector' for nothing.

Before she could even make it to the grand doors covered in flowers and vines, sapphire blue hues hone in on the sight of a figure approaching her. His rusted hues and turquoise hair were in sharp contrast to the greens that surrounded the place. Even without that difference, however, Yuzu figured out right away who it was. Only one person who lived in the Eden House looked like that, after all.

"C-Cousin Olivier! H-Hi! I-It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Despite speaking to family, Yuzu felt awkward in conversing with him. She doesn't know Olivier that well, other than his reputation as the Eden House's golden child who was loved by children of all the orphanages the house supported. If her father didn't hate her aunt and her ideals so much, there is no doubt that he would have tried to arrange some sort of marriage with Olivier and Ray. That was how notable a figure he had become among the noble houses.

Still, she couldn't forget why she was here. She had a mission, one she promised to herself she'd see through no matter what. Yuya...was counting on her. He was, in all in tense and purposes, her charge. She was the one responsible for him. Thus, it is up to her to bring him back home to where his brothers, his family, was waiting for him.

"I-I know it's very impolite to show up without notice, but...it's an emergency. A very, very dear friend of mine has gone missing, and...I need Auntie's help to find him. She's...the only person I can turn to for this. Can...Can you bring me to her?"

~

[starborn-souls]

Parents, and more specifically shitty parents, is a really easy button to push to get Pixie pissed off or at the very least in an irritable mood. Especially if it’s in regards to someone close to her.

Her relationships with her family, her mother especially, are strained at best. There’s a reason why Pixie rarely calls home, and even then those rare times are to her brother.

The origin of things becoming fractured is simple. Pixies parents didn’t want her going into the active duty when she just lost an arm as a reservist and had a child. And Pixie would have killed herself if she spent another day as a civilian. She knows that for certain, she came close once or twice. Only her younger brother knows that however, and she made him promise never to tell their parents about it.

And besides that, well, Pixie’s family is full of stubborn fuckers who even after ten years want her to leave the service. And make that no secret whatsoever the few conversations they still have every once in a while, regardless of who it is, with Arnold being the only exception.

There’s other factors too that have driven a wedge into her relationships but just aren’t as relevant or didn’t enter the picture right away. Her sister Lisa’s job as a journalist and Pixie’s refusal to even say what she does now beyond ‘intelligence’ being two of them.

In all honesty, if it weren’t for Evie, Pixie wouldn’t bother keeping in contact with anyone besides her brother at all. As far as she’s concerned, they’ve made their views clear and so has she. And nothings seemed to change so she doesn’t see the point in trying.

But, all that to say, her problems with her family all ultimately stem from those involved all caring too much if anything, even if it’s not showed in the healthiest of ways. On her side of things, her distance from Evie is because she cares, because she doesn’t think she’d be a good mother to her and she’d just do her little girl more harm than good by being around in her current mental state.

So to see or hear about those close to her dealing with shitty parents or parents that just don’t give a fuck? It pisses her off to no end because yeah, sure, her relationship with her parents sucks but at least she knows they care. And yeah, she is far from a perfect mother but at least she’s trying and doing what she can given the circumstances without potentially negatively affecting Evie.

It’s a sore spot for her, and even with her usual civility and level-headedness, she won’t hesitate to call that shit out if she sees or hears about it.

[bamsara]

so with the reveal of the goat, will they make an appearance in TROD?

Unless the appearance of the Goat actually changes or adds onto the lore of the story of the game, probably not.

I love little Goat guy, but they're our multiplayer character for co-oop play, not a new story-related npc like the Mystic Seller (with current info at this time) What I think will happen is that Goat can be pulled in from an alternate dimension where perhaps it was Shamura who was imprisoned or Narinder was God of War instead of Death, and they'll probably give it a short tidbit of 'lore' to help fit in with the immersion of how exactly this is able to happen with some explanation, (or it might just spur on us, like how Sins of the Flesh suddenly had the crown talk and offer guidance on sin rituals) but I'm more interested in the world building of in-current universe

So far I'm thinking it might be like dark souls multiplayer, the second player doesn't affect the story but increases the difficulty. Hopefully there's some interactions with cultists if you have a second player in your game

[satoruhour]

If you don’t mind (tho ofc you don’t have to write it if you don’t wish to), could we get a pt 2 of that priest geto fic? Where him and reader have been secretly fucking every damn where but especially in the church ever since that night, they both realise they have a thing for breeding kink so they don’t bother with protection either. Obv they have to hide what they’re doing and reader secretly gets away from her house at night to get dicked down frequently. and he knocks her up so they ultimately run away together ( or somewhere along those lines it’s totally up to you)

We missed you!! So good to have you back :D

DOMINE DIRIGE NOS !

wc: 7.8k (when will the horrors stop) / first part here ✶

warnings: DARK CONTENT, LORE, priest!geto, fem!reader, age gap (reader is in early 20s, geto in late 20s), christian references, religious themes used in inappropriate ways, questions of religion and life, brief mention of abortion, described scenes of f! and m! masturbation, face-sitting, fingering, clit stimulation, both f! and m! receiving oral, praise, mild degradation, sex in a religious place, semi-public sex (blowjob while geto is conducting mass oop), deep-throating, lots of unprotected p -> v sex, LOTS of creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, abandoning home, n*sfw under the cut

“father geto?” you curl deeper into geto’s back in the rectory, the uncomfortable mattress below you just reminding you of your upbringing in this suffocating town and the proximity of everyone. since that night, the two of you have been insatiable, using the House of the Lord for anything holy and instead are filled with violent moans and constant skin-slapping. even to you, the Church has started to look darker and darker, painted with the sin of Pandæmonium’s pillars, each time you enter it.

mass is all about locking eyes with the other, a game to see who falls first. sometimes you’d come in the shortest dress you can find, staring up at him from the second pew from under your eyelashes just like how you’d suck his cock. sometimes father geto would have his hair tied up, revealing his neck and jawline — the priest had not much to experiment with, but it took equal effect on you, anyway. clenched thighs, stuttered words, fluttering eyes.

father geto fortunately finds it easier to evade parishioners after doing his morning greetings to everyone; with another older priest who didn’t request the rectory, he could hide away to stroke at his cock all he wanted while the other took over the later masses. you, however, needed to reject the holy pastor ever so often to stop your mother from thinking vile of your absence.

it still was father geto, though, so whenever you mentioned his name after morning mass, she lit up like a switchboard, happily ushering you away to spend time because it was always encouraged to improve your faith.

— improving your faith in a non-existing god, perhaps.

“you don’t have to call me father when we’re alone, baby,” geto reassured, accommodating you when you turned around to meet him halfway.

“yeah?” you whisper, like someone could hear you. it was taboo, shameful even. the neighbourhood good girl with a deadbeat father coalescing with the newly transferred priest — it was the blasphemous, sent to be burnt at the pyre sort of sin. the rectory felt odd, your house felt odd; there was no place for people like the two of you, driven by lust and forbidden love and sin in the eyes of God, but what could people do when sin just felt so right?

you relish in the father’s gasp when you grind your butt against his crotch which are concealed behind his trousers, biting your lip with a smile when you catch his small grin at your mischief. you continue your ministrations, rolling your hips and bringing his hands to your chest. your clothing has become shorter and shorter ever since you convinced him of your little sin back in the confessional booth of skimpy tops and skirts. geto takes over, fingers slipping under your camisole to pull down your bra, fondling with your tits and playing with your nipples.

“sneaky little baby, hm?”

“s-suguru—” you whine, hips bucking and cunt already clenching. “need your cock, tongue, anything—”

“i’m getting there, doll, wait for me,” he pants, hurriedly unzipping his trousers. his erection is pulsing and throbbing by now, letting out a small sigh of relief when he finally pulls down his underwear, but you’re confused when you’re turned around and before you can reach to sit yourself on him—

“sit on my face first, darling,” he slyly smiles, beckoning you forward. here, father geto suguru looks anything like a pastor and if you close your eyes and listen, the repetitive tweets of the morning mass birds sound a little sweeter and the rushing water of the stream nearby remind you of a countryside house far away from your parents, your faith, your life. but forbidden has a time limit without the luxury of listening in, so you only settle for a pout when you hear the slick noises of him pumping his cock.

“you did say tongue,” he grins, “i don’t disobey scripture.”

“i’m not the Bible, suguru,” you jest with a small smile.

“you are scripture to me — anything you say and do, i’ll follow.”

and that’s the first time it’s truly cemented in you how much father geto was truly willing to throw away, but you hardly have any time to react before he easily settles one leg over and pulls you toward his mouth. it’s so violent, the way he loves you that there’s a small hmph that sounds from his throat when your sweet, wet pussy meets his mouth. after, it’s just endless groans as he laps at your clit while you fill the rectory with your sinful moans, grinding your hips into his mouth over and over while he just hums in agreement.

“that— that’s it, useme, useme—” it comes out slurred and slippery, just like your dripping cunt and his leaking cock, wet sounds that surround the both of you as geto’s tongue continue to assault your sensitive clit. he licks and sucks endlessly that you have no choice but to grab onto his hair for support and he does to same to both your thighs.

“father suguru—! hnfuck . .” you whimper out, looking down at him with hooded eyes while he meets you with the same intensity. below you are just streams and streams of your juices flooding his chin and hair; he just ever so lightly dips his tongue down to your needy cunt, plunging it in and your back arches involuntarily, “o-oh, god!”

geto laughs into your pussy, arm still clutching your thigh but the other goes back to his neglected dick, pumping it in time with his tongue as he swirls it around and you just clutch tighter and tighter. you definitely soaked through the sheets by now, but you follow his command, riding his face over and over until you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach.

“su— suguru, i’m g’nna . .” you moan out quietly, but your priest already knows what’s in store for him, abandoning his own ministrations entirely to please you as he pulls you all the way up to his face, positively cutting off his air supply in the process but he doesn’t care. he only suckles on your clit harder and with more pressure before switching to licking, abusing your puffy clit until you’re speechless and all that comes out of you are ah’s. “cumming, cumming— fuuckk . . !”

“cum on my tongue,” suguru manages to get out in between breaths, “give me all y’r cum, darling.”

those words are enough to send you over the edge, hitting your high with a soundless whine as your hips roll into his face and relentless torture, body continuing to convulse in his hold at the climax. if, before your continued praises sung God, now they were just full of father geto’s name, enunciated through the lips like a passionate blessing before mealtime. suguru, suguru, suguru, even Lucifer was ready to make ready his throne for the both of you.

“shit— sweet as always . .” father geto moans, slurping up all of your cum and making a mess, so much so that you’re giggling shyly at the lewd noises. you rest upon his heaving chest, noting wet patches that stain his black shirt — he came as well. “you treat me so good, don’t you, doll?”

your face twists, “i think i should be the one to say that, father geto.”

“don’t—”

“i like it. rolls off the tongue nicely,” you smirk, easily scooting downwards before settling your pulsing cunt onto his softening cock. but he knows you can get him up at any instance, just as you start grinding your clit along his shaft. the pleasure-filled moan he sounds out never gets old, echoed at the front of the Church of not, “father geto.”

all he shoots you is an unimpressed look, but he can’t keep his look up because the sight of you always inspires a thousand sermons and questions of morality.

“i like the dangerous aspect of it, father geto,” you reason with a sultry voice, grabbing his hardening dick and teasing his weeping tip along your folds. the both of you shiver. “it reminds me of how a holy man like you so easily fell for some pussy and got addicted to it.”

“pretty slut’s developing a dirty mouth,” he laughs, “carry on.”

“fucked a clueless, innocent girl in such a holy place,” you whined when his tip nudges past your pussy and into your gummy walls, spreading you open so deliciously.

“need my help?” you shake your head defiantly, sinking down slowly with calculated steps, gasps escaping your mouth as his cock continues to impale you inch by inch.

“and then claimed her right at the apse of the Church. on the altar, where bread is b-broken and wine is shared.” your eyebrows have knitted together from the pure stretch, descending down fully where you sit a little uncomfortably. no matter how many times you take him, he’s still big and full in you, needing a few moments to adjust as you wiggle your hips.

“can man prevent himself from chasing after his darkest desires?” father geto asks, bumping up his hips just a little and he grins at the little whine you let out.

“no, but God can,” you reason and yet you know you wouldn’t want anything to have changed between the two of you. you still would have wanted father geto’s downfall, you still would have wanted to see him stroking his cock behind the velvet curtains of the confession box.

you momentarily lock eyes with geto, drunk off the feeling of his length in you and the friction of your clit against his pelvis that you naturally gravitate towards him, feeling tired from all the grinding from earlier. he coos, receiving you without any judgement just like how a good priest should do and you feel most at home in his hug.

“what if my God is my darkest desire?” you barely make the connection before geto starts to thrust up into you, not too harshly but not too gently, either. you limp forward and just let him do the work, praising and worshipping you with every snap of his hips from below you.

“o-oh, baby, you’re so tight . .” suguru mumbles, littering kisses all over your neck and face while you struggle to keep yourself up, held up by your weak elbows as you try to meet his eyes. it’s the purple eyes you want to see as he fucks you dumb on his cock, full of lust and only on you as you drop all of your walls for him to enter. suguru tries his best, too, treating you as gently as he can out of the bedroom, which frankly isn’t much, but he tries. he brushes away your hair when it gets into your tongue during communion, he massages your knees in the rectory, he brings chocolate cake whenever he can.

he tries in the bedroom, too, but you are just too much for him. too much in the way that the devil’s whispers start to sound more and more like O Emmanuel and too much in the way he can feel the swell of his heart when even your name is mentioned. father geto doesn’t want to name it love, because in his position it will simply come off as manipulation, deceit.

father geto needs to know you are willing, too.

“father g-geto,” you whine, hands upon his face and sweat lining your brow, “faster, p-please—”

he chokes out a moan, “o-of course, sweetheart.”

you just feel so damn good, clenching so tightly around him that he cannot stop rutting his pelvis into you. he can feel the ripple of your ass with each thrust, the snugly fit tip hitting your g-spot ever so often to pull out the most beautiful moans from you. you’re both so wet and sloppy that you both can hear it — the squelching of your cunt paired with the pre-cum of his cock, mixing at your connected bodies in noisy pap! pap! pap!’s.

“s-suguruuu . . pleasepleaseplease.”

“whaddaya want, baby? words,” geto slurs as well, hips never stilling but now grinding in circles. his glutes and thighs burn but he won’t stop until you tell him what you want.

“i w-want your cum, inside me,” you mewl out like it’s a secret, like he hasn’t been cumming inside you for the past multiple times that you meet, “w-want you to breed me.”

suguru chuckles like it’s a dangerous bet, like he hasn’t emptied his balls deep in your pussy before, “you’re still on the pills, right, baby?”

ah . . the pills, that’s what you wanted to ask him to get more of at the beginning.

you nod hurriedly, “yes— i am, f-fuck—!”

“oh . . my darling’s close,” father geto grunts out, angling his hips so his cock reaches deeper in you, arms trapping you in an eternal embrace like Eve and the devil’s Serpent. you give him lazy, intoxicated kisses, sucking at the skin until there’s bound to be purple and he does the same to yours, albeit lighter.

“y . . yeah, i’m yours, suguru,” you whimper softly, voice breaking from the sheer pleasure once your hand sneaks in between to rub softly at your clit. you suck in a breath when both his cock and your hand find that sweet spot, moans suddenly overflowing into his neck with repeated “yes”’s and profanities until you cum with a cry of suguru’s name, juices spraying everywhere. it’s messy and filthy, your cum soaking his balls and staining the sheets.

“that’s it, thaaat’s it . . squirt all over my cock, baby,” geto continues to ram into your pussy as he praises, hips faltering in the slightest bit, “that’s a good girl.” it only makes you clamp down on his cock harder, making him hiss.

“i w-won’t last long, sweetheart—” he warns you but it’s not enough before he’s stilling in you, pupils blown wide as he shoots spurt upon spurt of hot cum into your cunt, filling you up to the brim as his cock twitches in you. you shiver at the feeling, breathing heavily in his arms as he continues to pump you full. slowly you recover but he stays plugged in, heading back to your position on elbows.

“she’s satisfied?”

you grin with a sigh, “very.”

“that’s all i ever want.” father geto smiles, gently bringing your head down for a gentle kiss on your lips. it turns heated soon enough, the gesture prompting your hips to move again on his very sensitive dick. but with the distant clack of shoe upon cobblestone that increases in volume, the both of you freeze.

“father geto?” it’s a boy’s voice, possibly one of the altar boys.

“what is it?”

the boy seemed to be relieved, as if stepping near the rectory was a sin in itself, “father nanami unfortunately can’t lead the night mass at eight tonight, will you be available?”

you shoot him a disappointed frown, but it is still his job after all. all he manages is a forehead peck.

“a-ah, yes, i am,” father geto thinks if it’s worth asking the next questions, “how many people usually show up to the night mass?”

“not too many, father geto, but it serves mostly the truckers and people in our town who have night shifts.”

you nod since you’ve never attended the night mass at all. father geto has conducted it; it was right on that fateful night where you had texted him about an unnamed confession.

“thank you, go in peace . .” geto shouts his reply and then looks at you with a small smile, speaking softly, “i have an idea.”

it’s only the afternoon when you make it back to your house for lunch before heading back out again like you planned with suguru earlier, following him from a safe distance until you’re out of earshot and sight of the congregation, even if no one was there. he kisses you gently in the sacristy, body pressed up against decades old of wooden cabinets and drawers. you have no idea what your priest has up his sleeve, so your eyes blindly follow his figure that brings out a toolbox proudly, taking out a hammer.

“don’t even know why the sacristy has a toolbox.”

“. . you’re insane,” your mouth drops open when he gives a hint of homily and sermon that you connect the dots, following him a little worried to the apse. there, stands the podium where he gives his readings and sermons, hands going straight for the board that’s nailed shut. turning the hammer around, using the claw at the back of it to remove the nails that hold it down, removing the nails of the lectern one by one with muscles bulking under his robes before it’s revealed.

“looks . .” he whistles lowly at the pristine condition of the wooden podium, “. . i forgot they gifted me a new podium when i transferred.”

“new priest privileges.” you nudge him in the side.

“i’m probably going to get transferred out soon, too,” he jokes with an arm around your waist, and in a perfect world, this would be the two of you looking at your newly built home in those terrible films. instead, you’re here, faced with temptation and sin.

“are you gonna be okay? we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to—” you cut him off with a hand to his crotch, sparing a glance towards the double doors. the church was small, yes, but there was still a good amount of people that attended it, even if the night mass garnered less.

“i’ll be okay, suguru. i’m wet just thinkin’ about it,” the other only hums at your revelation, bending down with you as you slot yourself into the dark place, pockets of light fighting to get in from the amateur job of the podium, “you better go prepare.”

“you’re a gem.” with a soft kiss to your forehead, father geto leaves just as the first parishioner shows up for mass: a whopping 43 minutes before the start of mass. you’re not surprised by the faith in this town, sometimes coming in to complete a rosary, do some extra prayers or partake in confession — but you realise you’re going to have to stay in this lectern for 43 minutes and more before he starts his homily. it’s a perfect fit, but trying not to rattle the box while adjusting yourself seemed to be the most difficult thing.

he had no helpers tonight, no altar boys, such a prime time to commit such a foul act in the eyes of God while he finishes up on the Gospel and you feel your fingertips tingling when he walks from the altar to the podium, dress shoes clicking against the wood of the floor of the rickety Church.

thank god the alb is huge and so is the podium, and thank god there aren’t any pews at the sides of the church. you know he spares some glances, too, so after a few moments of silence to reflect on the words of the Gospel, you’re lifting the alb right to where his boner was. you palm the area in wonder, at the clear sin of the act that you’re currently committing and this is all new to you apart from fucking when the place is empty.

“so big . .” it’s like he hears your whispers, cock twitching under your hold when you slowly remove it from his trousers, slotting his hardening dick through the boxers and zip hole without bringing too much attention. you trail your thumb over his tip that’s leaking pre, a difficult thing to see in such a dark place but you know it’s there when you kitten lick the mushroom tip.

you can hear a falter in his sermon, a stutter of words. leaning forward, you awkwardly switch onto your knees before wrapping your mouth around his length and it’s more clear now when you’re closer to the source of sound.

“. . ory of G-God, excuse me,” geto coughs as if he’s got something stuck in his throat, pulling at his chasuble that feels like choking him at the neck. your mouth continues its teasing, holding onto his thighs as you continue to suck on his fat cock. even now, you struggle to take it all in your mouth, pumping at the bottom while you bob your head. you can only pray that the broadcasted words of the sound system can cover up the obscene noises that your mouth makes.

“mmhh . . j—just, sorry,” the less-than-thirty church-goers don’t pay any mind when his hand snakes down from the top of the lectern toward you, offering his fingers and it’s like salvation after being stuck in there for God knows how long. you grasp at the hand, using your hand to stroke his shaft while you suck on his fingers. in a moment of bravery, you stick your head out as the other wills not to look down, but with a calculated glance to everyone that’s either asleep or zoning out, father geto rewards himself with one gaze while you switch from fingers to his cock.

“oh . .” he restricts himself before any pet name can escape, seeing your pliant mouth take all of him just like that first night but someone coughs and it snaps him out of the daydream, hand going back up.

“we should prioritise the Lord at every part of our day,” geto breathes heavily when he feels you deepthroat him, hands dripping the sides of the podium that you were sure the cheap wood would splinter under his grip. you focus on getting him in your mouth when he steps closer to you and you let out a small sound of surprise; he takes that small break to quickly bun up his hair, all wet from the sweat on his neck.

“mmf—!” there’s a small relief that leaves your priest’s mouth at having his tip hit the back of your throat, muttering a lot of uhm’s and repeated words. he wants to cum, and he wants to cum quick from how his hips thrust into your warm mouth, wanting to do away with conducting mass and to just be in your pliant pussy.

“. . a-and to make sure all our actions honour the Lord our Saviour,” his hips continue to move, continually buried up to the hilt in your mouth over and over as he fucks your mouth. you receive it willingly, hands taking action to play with his balls and that has his thighs tensing up. “and while you continue to live your life in praise—”

“f-fuck,” it’s whispered away from the microphone but you hear it, length twitching in response to your hands before you come off with to breathe. both hands stroke his cock while you suckle on the tip, driving him into insanity that he’s struggling to finish his sermon.

“you’ll be given the greatest graces in Heaven,” father geto shoots his cum down your throat and it’s so much, muscles pulled taut as he continues to buck his hips needily. you can feel him slump forward and out of breath while you continue to milk him and his words start to slur just a tad bit and while you clean him of his semen, you giggle to yourself under the podium as he gathers himself for another look down at you.

the final blow is how you stick out your tongue to show him the cum that’s left, a grin spreading that he just has to give you his hand again as you hold it gently, “—together in eternal life with God Almighty and Christ.”

“i hope i wasn’t too obvious on the lectern two weeks ago,” father geto laughs into your neck at your place, seemingly so long ago where he decided to step into your room and questioned your thesis on Paradise Lost. it felt like it was just last week he was bringing cake to your place, sitting in on dinner, walking with you around the town. now you sit in his lap in the living room of your house, unassuming because of the five day vacation that your parents decided to take. your mother stayed with your father for what, you never could figure out, but with the baby dropped off at the family across the street (your mother knew you’d be busy with university work) and them out to the next town, you did what every university student would do.

you sneaked priest geto in on sunday night, letting him take you on every surface he knew you’d spread your legs for him on, and now sat, freshly showered and the television turned down to a low, you could only hope this was what a life of matrimony could look like. all the dreams and fancy stories your mother tells you, you think you could twist this sick relationship and forbiddenness into something normal for at least five days if you convince yourself enough.

“you were stuttering on every sentence,” you mumble into his hair that starts to smell more and more like yours, arms encircled around his neck while he sits in a mere singlet. “you like my mouth too much.”

“ego te adoramus.” father geto hums quietly, pulling away from the embrace as he looks up at you and he sighs. if only he had found you sooner before starting his theology degree, before he could hear God’s call for him into priesthood. he would be happy being your childhood friend, anything.

“do you ever wish you weren’t a priest?”

geto swallows, brushing away the strands from your face and adjusts you on his lap, “sometimes.”

“my parents were open with my choice, as they always are, but they valued how much i liked to explore and try new things. they only said that i should choose this path carefully because they knew time is something that no one can get back,” he explains, hands stroking your sides carefully and you let yourself dream that you were just a normal couple, “some friends were weird about it, telling me i would miss having sex and whatnot, but i still value my relationship with God and the many things i’ve learned from my journey in the seminary.”

“but?”

“i didn’t expect to . . meet someone like you so soon,” suguru laughs when you shout a small hey!, feigning annoyance, “someone so bright, and loving and kind. someone that embodies what Jesus and the Church stands for, and something i’ve never seen in ages. unconditional compassion.”

“your praise is too heavy,” you swat away his hand, only attributing your disposition to your mother’s exemplary way of raising you, “is simple kindness that hard to see?”

“you shadow a lot of priests in conducting masses, baptising people, giving first communions, and you see a lot of personalities — some that are vile for people that regularly go to Church. it’s disheartening to see Christians who are clearly wrapped up in their privilege and pride and think they’re the most important religion to exist. you hear it in history books, through word of mouth.” geto looks just like a boy, frustrated with the world that he lives in that a scowl settles into his features and his hands ball fabric into tight fists.

you manage to relax him a little, running your thumbs over his face and hands; he twines his fingers with yours. “i thought that if i went in, i could at least try to reshape the community. bit by bit, open their minds about abortion, about the queer community, but it is proving hard when the first church you’re transferred to is a small town.” that gets a giggle out of you.

“you’re not wrong, suguru, for trying your hardest. it’s so admirable. i’m trying to unlearn things about the Church that my mom has taught me too, and it’s all interesting reads alongside my second year of uni. if you can change one mind, there’s the potential to change many others.”

geto lets you rest your forehead on his, closing his eyes to just feel you, “thank you.”

he’s not even sure when to tell you that he’s fallen in love, the hardest he’s ever done since in high school with his first love, or in university studying theology, and he’s not even sure it’s love. all he knows is that when he looks at you, a life until silver hair is all he can think about.

“you can do it,” you break the ice softly, placing a peck on his lips, “i believe in you.”

“i don’t think they would wanna believe a sex-crazed priest, darling, not when i wanna give you the life you deserve.”

you sigh, hiding your face, “i don’t think we can achieve that, suguru, not while you’re still married to the Church and i’m supposed to be celibate.”

“that’s out the window—” and he laughs when you slap him on the bicep, finding that you’d want him to laugh more. he does it sometimes when he gives sermons, recounting a specific story about his mother, or while baptising a baby. it’s pure like a young boy’s laughter, something to be protected, the way his eyes crinkle and lips stretch . .

“what if i break priesthood for you?”

what?

“no . .” you brows furrow, “don’t say stuff like that.”

“why not, my love?” you continue to shake your head, standing from your place on his lap and he’s confused — wouldn’t you want this?

“don’t call me that—” your safe space, your room is the only place all you can think in, and you escape to it before he can catch a thread of your clothing. father geto calling you that means he’s officially fallen, chained to the river Styx. the descent was fun, but you didn’t want to be the reason why he’d truly throw away all of his hard work, you didn’t want him to be shamed, nor did you want to be called out for being a temptress. self-serving while serving others — maybe that’s how Christians operated and you were the walking proof of it.

geto thinks he’s messed up big time and unsure of the reason why as he lets you stay in your room to cool down. he only sends out a text simply to check on you, but it takes you an hour before you’re ready; once he hears the click of your door, he’s heading up the stairs and pushing open the door gently.

just like that first night, he’s cautious when he enters your room as if touching your sacred place will have him reciting rosaries as penance, as an apology for staining your heart and your body. you stand.

“i don’t want you to leave everything behind just for me . .” you sound out, sniffling softly and the priest’s heart already shatters at the sound, “all your hard work, the years you did in the seminary and then just dumping it all just for a chance with a woman who you don’t even know whether will be suitable as your lover.”

geto’s expression softens in the dark room, only illuminated by fluorescent light from your bedside table lamp — “i won’t leave anything behind; all those years, all the studies, all of it mattered because somehow it still led me to you. if that isn’t God’s doing, i don’t know what else it was. my definition of Christianity has been entirely reimagined, entirely changed when i look at you, a person filled with nothing but pure lovingness and soft-heartedness and yet i still feel proud when you said you wished harm on your father because i know that Christ didn’t ask men to gouge their eyes out for nothing.”

he grabs your hands, stroking the back of your palms and stepping close to you as much as you will let him. suguru plants feather-like kisses onto skin before continuing, “i will always carry my Christianity with me, the shame, its history and if i fall, so be it. Lucifer had fallen many times after, crouching by Eve’s ear to whisper sin, turning into a serpent to give her the forbidden fruit, sentenced to rule Hell because he himself is Hell.”

“and are you dragging me down with you?”

“i have been dragged to the darkest pits of Hell from the moment i saw you, and if anything, while i worship God, i cannot ignore the olive branch that you hold out to me like a saving grace, like you ascend the same pedestal that the Trinity sits on.”

you swallow, eyes breaking contact and he’s quick to rectify that, both palms on your cheeks and your face is tilted upwards.

“our God will always be there for repentance if you wish so, but allow me to indulge in the blasphemy and filthiness and sacrilege of craving someone so desperately that my body burns from thinking about her and my knees want to strike the Earth whenever she’s around me.”

the sentence takes you aback before he’s leaning forward, but abruptly stops short— it’s rushed, can i kiss you?

“yes. yes, suguru—”

and he kisses you with the force of a thousand suns and the most detrimental winds of the pacific, arms going from your face right to your body as he wraps you in his love. geto deepens the kiss just as he always has, but the feelings that spark in you differ greatly from just mindless kissing during sex. it’s full of passion, full of possibly everything he’s kept bottled up as he walks you to your bed, yelping in surprise when the back of your knees hit the mattress.

“do you still have your pills, my love?”

your fingers bunch up the same sweater he wears on the first day, “i . . ran out . . a while ago.”

“i’m surprised those pills work even after i cum so much in you,” that really draws a hearty laugh from your stomach, “but whatever happens, i’ll be here.”

“the feeling’s just too good—” you giggle, squealing when father geto lifts you off the floor and puts you on the bed.

“if you test positive, and if you want to keep it or abort it, i’m okay,” geto hovers over you, looking at you with so much love you wonder how you miss it the many times you’ve been together, “i’ll support you in everything that you do.”

a peak of silver shines in the moonlight under his sweater and you realise this feels like the first time you lost control over your lust, the first time you touched yourself. like heeding a call, his crucifix falls from the safety of his sweater and almost hits you in the face if not for suguru pulling away in worry.

“was it just like this?” he teases with a small smirk, knees already nudging your legs apart, “you imagined me fucking you with this dangling in your face?” your face heats up at the mention, at the fact he still manages to remember that confession and you nod whilst biting your lip. 

“well, you get to live it now,” geto grins, leaning down to plant a kiss to your lips before having his way with you.

and have his way did he — you aren’t even sure what round you’re on at the moment, simply subjected to getting you face smushed into your pillow as he pounds into you from behind. geto grunts as he eases his cum-filled cock back into your sweet cunt, hands travelling everywhere over your sweaty back.

“are you okay, baby?”

you turn your head with arms still buried in the pillow, a cock drunk smile on your face, “splendid.”

“goin’ in— shiit . .” geto sinks into you easily, your mixed juices proving easy before getting himself right up to the hilt. his mouth hangs open in pleasure, pants leaving both your lips before he starts to thrust and the wetness is just straight-up obscene. with a wordless tug, father geto brings you close to him, wrapping an elbow around your neck while the other settles for your tummy, feeling the muscle that curls around you. he doesn’t trap you so tightly, simply holding your limp body up as his pelvis rams into you.

“your pussy’s just so good, darling,” he mutters into your neck as your head tilts back in ecstasy while your body trembles in geto’s hold.

“s’full, suguru . .” you whine, hands flailing for his toned arms that encircle your body while he thrusts, cum spilling from where you were connected onto your sheets. it was a blessing your parents were out because father geto doesn’t hold back with the way he fucks you, voice carrying throughout the house and permeating the walls that you hoped the neighbours wouldn’t hear.

going for multiple rounds meant the two of you were highly sensitive, jolting when his hand sneakily drew circles along your clit and matched his pace, while his length in you kept twitching and pulsing from the way your gummy walls wrap around him. “s-suguru — i need you, p-please—”

“i’m here, sweetheart,” geto chokes out, hand wrapping around the expense of your neck and turning your face, indulging himself in a sinful kiss that you return immediately. tongue and saliva is everywhere, hands and hips never slowing down when it comes to you and your sweet pussy. “i’m here, always, amie.”

“i’m gonna c— fuck— shit,” you tighten around his cock at the name, moaning into his mouth like a mantra, like a mystery that cannot be solved as he cums with a guttural groan into you and you shiver from the feeling of him filling you that you forget all about your own pleasure, body shaking with mini orgasms instead. “lay forward . .”

it’s softly spoken, and you obey, eyes fluttering close when he pulls out slowly and geto’s fixated on the drip of his cum that falls from your pussy. flipping you over instantly, he smears your juices together and all over your centre, smiling at how your legs close in on each other at the sensitivity. his tip’s filled with your cum, a messy painting of your repeated rounds.

“you’re the most stunning right here,” he breathes out as he rests on his calves, cock still hard. his hand trembles as he strokes himself, moaning softly at the warmth that he misses already and he’s brought to attention again when you whimper softly. you’re fingers play lazily with your folds, finger rubbing circles into your clit and all he can think about is pumping you full of his cum again when you look at him from under your eyelashes, with a subtle pout and the plea of the eye.

“fuck me again, father geto,” you mumble, “fuck me until i’m full of your cum.”

the priest only grunts lowly at that, trailing his angry tip along your pussy and collecting your juices before slipping in. the both of you gasp at the sensation, more of you when his hands close around your knees and push. he’s forcing your legs right up to your chest the same time he enters you, sending you deeper into desperation that you writhe on the bed.

“ohh . . tha’s a perfect pussy right there . .” suguru slurs, body pushed against your bent legs as his cross swings back and forth like an omen, like a crow watching your movements, “will you be mine, my darling?”

your voice comes out in high-pitched whines at his question, so intimate, so loving in such a dirty space. you can only manage nods when he starts to move, this new position allowing him to reach much, much deeper into you that you preen at the overwhelming feelings that bubble in your chest.

“yesyesyes! r-right there, suguru—” your back arches off your childhood bed, where you first prayed, where you first read the Bible, where you did your homework, where you first fingered yourself, all overthrown by the sheer blasphemy that geto suguru wished to indulge in, and you give it to him just like that, “f-fuck! love your cock in me, father!”

“o-oh . . you’re playing a dangerous game, c-calling me that, baby,” his eyes also struggle to stay open, committing your pleasure-filled face to memory as your jaw slacks and your eyes roll back. he can see your tits move with his rough thrusts as well, licking his lips while feeling you fuck him back, “are you close?”

“mhmm—” you’re humming, mumbling incoherent sentences at this point as your mind fogs at the neck-deep euphoria you were in. with the room that’s filled with sex to the nasty, sloppy noises of his balls hitting your ass, and soaking wetness that can be heard from a mile away, the both of you are lost to the claws of Hell. geto knows you’re close with the way your cunt tightens and your breathing escalates, using his thumb to rub at your clit and now you truly feel like you’re going insane.

“c-close . . haah—” your eyes try to stay open to look at the sight above you: messy-haired and body lined with sweat, the beautiful entity of abstinence and temptation all in one person. you fumble with his shoulders, wanting to pull him closer so you can admire him up close while he drives you to your high. the moment of vulnerability only spurs geto on, drawing out the brutal, carnal need he has for you.

“is that it? you wanted this?” he grunts out through gritted teeth, “you wanted me to fuck your pussy until it knows the shape of my cock?” the words muttered sends goosebumps throughout your body. you nod, “you wanted me to defile this pretty pussy so no one else can fuck you, isn’t that right?”

you whimper at the words as he pushes your legs further into your chest, “cum on my cock, darling.”

and you do. generous with it, you’re gushing all over his length as he continues fucking you through your overstimulation, thumb slowing its ministrations on your puffy clit as he chases his own climax. “taking my cock so well, so good like the good slut she is,” the other says through a small grin, hips stuttering when you give him a small yeah in return.

“another load for you, baby,” father geto groans out loudly before he switches to quick, fast thrusts into your warm, welcoming pussy before cumming with a whine, shooting thick ribbons of white deep into your womb. your moans are swallowed by geto as he continues to fill you to the brim, painting your insides and enjoying your slow, needy kisses.

“she’s had her fill,” you mumble softly, feeling sleepy while the other only hums in agreement. slowly, geto lets your legs down which only plop down on the bed, unsheathing himself from you and relishing in the way the cum dribbles out, glob after glob of cum leaving your pussy and onto the sheets, “are you okay, suguru?” he takes your shaky hand, interlocking your fingers with his as he scoots up to you, closer until he’s just over you.

“always better with you here.” you roll your eyes, tugging on the crucifix and pulling him into you where your lips collide, feeling him collapse by your side even as your mouths continue their movements. all you do is smother each other with hands, one through his sweaty locks and his grabbing your waist. you want to live through the feeling of his front against yours for eternity, deepening the kiss with your tongue and moaning softly when his fingers squeeze your ass secretly.

“you just stay here and i’ll clean you up,” with one last peck to your temple, father geto navigates your house like he lives there, getting a rag and wetting it before he cleans you up gently, fabric travelling along your skin like a kiss of hellfire as he massages your legs, your arms. there’s a multitude of things before the two of you succumb to slumber, going to the toilet, grabbing something to eat and then wallowing in some late night conversations (“do you think you find me in other universes?” / “i’ll find you in every one.”) until finally, you two settle in each other’s arms.

it’s like a still painting that would be studied by future literature students, scrutinised by art critics all over the world of a sacrilegious relationship that should not have place for love, that should not have place for purity, but the feeling of geto suguru’s arms from behind wound tightly and protectively around your physique feels like both the good and bad of the secular world. love and lust can coexist.

just as father geto worships, your luggage is quickly packed up a few weeks later alongside a pregnancy test that looks awfully reminiscent of the cross in the church. picture frames emptied, laptop and papers packed, a barren land of what used to be the place of a God-serving, holy girl — and even if knowledge caused her downfall, she was more than willing to own up to it. the room looked larger and drab with everything gone; you aren’t even sure how you fit everything into the luggage.

the fallen angels watch over your encounters with crinkles of the paper of your farewell letter, the squeaky floorboards, and the atmosphere of the night sounding like vacuum from its sheer silence as you snuck out of the house and into the stark night, hands clasped within each other’s while gravel below your feet reminded you of your situation. you weren’t sure if you were walking to salvation or away from it, but at least you knew Eden was by your side, with the lavender scent of your shared shampoo on both your heads and his saccharine words.

after walking for what felt like forever to avoid detection, geto waves excitedly to a car in the distance which seemed to house two men — one blonde that looks awfully like father nanami and the other, a white-haired man.

“i called up some friends,” suguru brings your connected hands to his lips and his tired eyes soften even further, pressing soft pecks along your fingers and face. your priest catches you in a sensual kiss, humming into it and mumbling sweet nothings that sound just like Lucifer in Eve’s ear, but you’re too enamoured with the sparks you leave on one another to notice the commencement of your coronation at Pandæmonium.

“we’ll be okay, amie. ego te amo ut dum stellae luceant.”

“Rise, then, to the thrones of Moloch and Paimon, of Belial and Beelzebub, of the infamous angel who challenged his Creator and clawed his way from the Stygian pool to Pandæmonium made of demon blood and soot-filled fingertips. Rise to Lucifer, and take your rightful place on the throne overflowing with hate and vice and villainy, and rule Hell just as how he would’ve wanted it.”

a/n: another insane piece .. pls dont look / tagging @mysugu @slttygeto @screampied @suguruplsr @na-t0 @peachsayshi

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Hi. Long time reader. Big fan! Hi!

I have a question. Would you ever consider doing a "7 days" drabble or something? I've always wondered how Mr and almost not quite Mrs Pack Leader both handled the 7 days from when Pretty found out about the awoo awoo, to when she returned home with more knowledge and acceptance?

Can I have your autograph? Big fan! Much respect! Wow!

you sent this ask on may 2023. it's been over a year. OVER A YEAR... i told you i'd consider it and i did ☝☝☝

it's probably not exactly the same as what you'd imagined and it's also been the first thing i wrote in a long while, but i hope it's entertaining and that you like it and that it doesn't suck~

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series. reading Alpha Dog before this one is highly recommended as it’s something that happens within that story). | Word Count: ~1.8k | Themes & Warnings: fantasy/supernatural AU · roomies idiots to ??? · there's like a smidge of angst but probably not enough for it to be taken into consideration · pre-relationship situations · this was barely proof-read oops

minors do not interact.

‘I’m a werewolf… We’re all werewolves’

‘We’re all werewolves…’

‘We’re all werewolves…’

Werewolves.

Everything you thought you knew about the world around you was completely obliterated a week ago. It wasn’t every day that one learnt that supernatural creatures lived among humans, so it was–quite understandably, in your opinion–an absolute shock when your roommate revealed to you that he and the rest of his friends were, in fact, werewolves.

Werewolves. As in, a half man, half wolf creature… You’d been unknowingly living among werewolves for four whole months and you’d convinced yourself that they wouldn’t have told you if you hadn’t literally seen one of them shift from his wolf form into his human one with your own two eyes.

You’d been trying to process this knowledge for a whole week. The first couple of days, you told yourself you had just imagined the whole thing, up to the conversation you had with your roommate right after the fact…

But then, the text messages started coming in.

> Yang Jeongin (neighbour): im sorry > i know i probably spooked you when i shifted > i couldnt control it honestly > i was too shocked > i shouldve done better > sorry

> Lee Minho (neighbour): hiya > just wanted to check in on you… > hope you’re well

> Bang Chris (roomie): hey… how’re you

You weren’t imagining those. They were very real. They stared at you from within your phone’s screen whenever you opened your messaging app, reminding you that the whole thing had actually happened.

When you started digesting the situation and accepted it had happened, you felt angry. 

They lied to you. Every single one of them had lied to you. They lied by omission, at least… It wasn’t like they ever said they were human, but you’d never really considered the fact that people needed to specify something like that.

You’d found yourself laying on your childhood bed, fuming at the thought of these people possibly laughing at your expense, maybe toying with you like you were somehow less than them. Like you were prey.

But after the initial fire of anger subsided, you just grew… confused.

Going online to research something could either go really well or really bad. The higher the number of the page in your search engine became, the more you started to wonder if these dark corners of the internet held any truth about the topic at all.

A website with ten year old graphics drawn in 8-bits exposed how werewolves lived among humans. It went in detail on their super-strength, their enhanced senses, and their innate desire to live in communes. All of which just sounded like someone was detailing lore for their next fantasy story.

There was no way for you to fact-check any of the articles and forums you found, no way of knowing what was real and what was simply made up by someone’s hyperactive imagination.

So it was towards day four of being away from your usual residence that you remembered a key detail. 

There was a person that was close with your neighbours, the childhood friend of one of them who you could now vividly recall telling you how ‘Being human kinda sucks sometimes. We can’t do shit’.

At the time, you thought she was just hyperbolising. There was no way you would’ve thought she was actually confirming to you that she was human and that she somehow knew of beings with greater abilities than her own. There was no way she didn’t know.

So you went to your recent chats and clicked on the one with the phone number that was still saved with the same name it had when your neighbour Minho had shared it with you. You really needed to update it, but that was seemingly insignificant at this time. With trembling fingers, you sent a message.

< You: you knew didn’t you?

It didn’t take long for the reply to come, signalled by the gentle vibration of your phone, bringing with it a knot that made its home in your throat.

> kittenkittykat🐱: Hi, how are you? I’m fine, thanks for asking LOL. > I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that, babes.

< You: about the guys and their… condition

You saw the ‘typing…’ message appear and disappear for a long minute, until the person on the other side finally replied.

> kittenkittykat🐱: What condition?

It annoyed you, you’d admit. She was acting aloof, there was no way she wasn’t. So you ignored the heavy feeling in your chest and decided to get to the point.

< You: the… furry one < c’mon, don’t act like you don’t know < there’s no way minho didn’t tell you about what happened the other day < hell, there’s no way you don’t know what the boys are < you’ve known minho for years

> kittenkittykat🐱: He did tell me. > I just wanted you to tell me you knew yourself. > And yes. I’ve always known. > I’ve known Minho since before he contracted lycanthropy.

< You: contracted? < are you saying he wasn’t always like this?

> kittenkittykat🐱: …Yes > You’re either born a werewolf or turned into one. > To be honest, I don’t think I’m comfortable disclosing Minho’s past in much detail without asking him first. > In any case, please don’t be mad at them. > Or me, for that matter… > It’s not just something you go around telling people that have no connection with the supernatural, you know?

You knew she was right. Deep within you, you knew. You kinda… understood. 

Before you could reply to that last message, she sent more.

> kittenkittykat🐱: Know that any questions you’ve got, you can ask me. > After so many years I think I might know a thing or two about the furry men… > And women. And, uh… people. > Furry people. Yes. > Anyway, I know of some resources online, too…

And resources online she shared…

Some of the dodgy websites you’d found hadn’t been too far off. Apparently werewolves did live in communes, more accurately referred to as packs, which aligned perfectly with the whole living situation your roommate and your neighbours had. When you moved in with Chris, you were surprised to see how close he was with his friends, you brushed it off as their apparent lack of toxic masculinity, but now you knew.

Now you knew…

But did you, really?

You figured the only way to get proper answers was to actually speak to them–to him, more specifically. After all, you lived with Chris. In the same flat. You were missing it terribly, your flat… and maybe you were even missing Chris.

But you weren’t ready to face him.

What would you tell him? How could you even approach the situation? 

Especially considering… Well, the very inconvenient crush you’d developed on your roommate… Your roommate that you now knew was a werewolf.

You hadn’t really entertained the thought of doing anything about said crush… You were convinced that it’d probably just complicate things, but all it took was a charming smile and the sight of dimples to make you want to risk it all.

It was a reaction that you now questioned.

He wasn’t human. On the off chance that you did risk it all, would you even want to be with someone like him? Or, more importantly, could his supernatural condition be somehow influencing you into believing you liked him? Was he literally charming you?

You figured you needed to know…

One of the forums your neighbour’s friend shared with you had this whole section dedicated to romancing a werewolf, explaining how their designation affected the whole process most of the time. This led you to another section where you learnt about those designations, about what an alpha, a beta, and an omega were. 

Alphas were usually the leaders of a pack, according to this site. Very protective, territorial, particularly stubborn… It definitely sounded like Chris to you. His friends looked up to him, and it took only one word said in a serious tone for them to do anything he asked them to do. 

This knowledge led you to many threads. ‘How to deal with a violent alpha?’ ‘Our alpha is forcing us to do things for her, how can we stop her?’ ‘Tips to take an alpha [in a fight] pt3’ ‘Tips to take an alpha [in every hole possible] pt5’

Some conversations were a bit too explicit for you to comfortably read them. Not because you were a prude, by any means, but because anything too explicit would make you think about your roommate a bit too much… You weren’t in the most appropriate mood to think about ‘An alpha’s preference in bed’ or ‘How to stretch for an alpha’s knot’ –whatever that was.

You were more in the mood to dig into all these threads related to violent, overly possessive and controlling alphas. You felt like you needed to know about this supposed inherent nature of your roommate’s.

These people didn’t particularly sound like Chris. Yeah, he wasn’t perfect, and anyone could tell he wanted to be the one in charge at all times, but he’d never given you the feeling that he was forcing anyone around him to do anything at all. 

Admittedly, you might’ve gotten a bit too invested in the topic. It started to worry you when all you could read was these horrible experiences people had with alphas–both in platonic and romantic settings. But eventually, you started seeing the opposite side. 

‘Our pack’s alpha is honestly great. They always make sure we’re okay with any decisions taken…’ ‘As an alpha, I can tell you that any alpha that tries to force you into anything is just toxic and abusive. We aren’t all like that…’ ‘I feel very cared for when I’m with my alpha…’ 

Those testimonials gave you a bit more hope. They reminded you that in this short time you’d spent living with Chris, he’d done nothing but made you feel comfortable. He was that type of person, it didn’t matter if he was a werewolf.

Crush aside, you liked Chris. He was a guy you felt you could trust; yes, he’d lied by omission, but if you thought about it with a clear mind, it was pretty obvious that he wouldn’t just outright tell you he wasn’t entirely human. He seemed genuine, but you needed to hear his side of the story with your own two ears, without the panic of suddenly seeing your younger neighbour’s body twist and turn in ways you never knew were possible.

So with that in mind, on day seven of you being away from the place you considered your home, and after reading many articles and comments from people online, you left the comfort of your childhood bed, gathered your belongings, and left your mother’s house.

You were determined to get answers. You needed the truth, directly from the wolf’s mouth. If knowing Chris was a werewolf meant he’d kick you out, then you wanted him to tell you. If knowing he was a werewolf meant you’d be able to perceive malice in Chris, you wanted to see it.

In all honesty, if Chris was as genuine as he seemed and if he wanted you around, you genuinely wanted to stay, lycanthropy and all.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2024. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

General Masterlist | WereRoomies Masterlist

[grimmcheems]

Bert & Pieck Half Sibling Au?!?!?!?👁

(Based off this post😭) thanks @deerish for the meal that fueled this.

So like……..haha I didn’t lie when I said this would be simmering in my mind for a while💀. Such an unintentionally wholesome concept stemmed from this idea oop. Nothing much but just Pieck being her silly self around Bert when they were younger and before baby Bert was sent off to his mission. ;( I built lore for this while I disassociated at work💪🏽

Pieck and Bert share the same father but his mother died during childbirth, hence him only having his grandfather as his only living relative (ik he doesn’t have a grandfather but let me live) Bert is actually a b*stard child and his father had a whole family with Pieck and her mother until she too died while Pieck was still young. Pieck is confirmed older than him, it’s never explicitly stated but I’d wager about three to four yrs since she’s closer to Zeke’s age anyways.

She’s never told about Bert or their blood ties but her father hinted at it a couple times before he died (unintentionally) and the rest of her family on her mother’s side knows about it so she basically grows up hearing whispers about him. She puts the pieces together after a while of meeting Bert and after they inherited their titans. I’d like to point out that Bertolt is completely oblivious to all this and her overly kind and interactive attitude towards him. It isn’t until later on that he realizes it and analyzes things his grandfather has told him.

However, they keep it under wraps and have a nonverbal agreement to not bring it up or mention it in the slightest. They never do acknowledge their ties and they never see each other again after Bert is sent away on the mission :(. Bert is a soft boy so his only regret before dying is never getting to fully confirm whether she was his actual sister and the fact that he still had some extended family as her besides his lone grandfather.

For the Armin bits: Armin is heavily conflicted with the memories and information of Bertolt actually having a living relative. He never tells anyone else though since he wants to honor Bertolt’s and Pieck’s wish to keep it a secret between themselves, he also doesn’t think it’ll buy Bertolt any sympathy since she is also a titan shifter. This is also slight Jearmin lmao. The only time he cuts close to revealing Bert’s secret is when he’s with Jean after having a nightmare and seeing a memory with Pieck.

As for Pieck…..she straight up wants revenge against Zeke and Eren for Bert’s death, given that Zeke failed to bring him back and Eren (and Mikasa, but she doesn’t know that) was a driving reason for Armin inheriting Bert’s titan. She wants to kidnap Armin maybe?? Probably and maybe torture him a bit, but she soon realizes Armin is innocent and was an (partially)unwilling participant in his death so she decides to leave him alone but he later seeks her out.

I’m probably gonna make more parts to this lmao, ik nobody is reading all this but it’s literally impossible for me to post anything without context🫠🥲

[gohannygo]

Emerie lore speculation post?!! :O

Okay guys this is my little gift to myself for finishing my school work on time. Also like low key regardless if you agree or not, drop your Emerie predictions/thoughts in the comments— because for whatever reason my brain has attached itself to her, but she has like 5 mins of screen time and vary little discourse surrounding her :D

Okay guys I’m get real with you, I don’t think Emerie was created as an enhanced clone, or with some kind of special ability. I think she was made to be as plain and reg-like as possible.

Based on Nala Se’s reaction to Omega’s blood being sampled and tested, we can assume she knew and maybe even was responsible for Omegas ability to support an M-count. What I think happened was, Nala se was like “Oh oops it appears I have gotten emotionally attached to this child so I’m keeping her as my own, but I dont wanting any snoopers out there to trying to figure out whats so special about her,” so she created Emerie as a decoy of sorts. Essentially a female version of a reg to send out to the world to prove that theres no reason for anyone to inquire about Omega because look how regular female clones are. Like in a super heartbreaking way, my theory is that Emerie was essentially made to have no identity. To be an obedient little placeholder to take attention away from Omega’s existence.

Wow thats cool but why does it matter?

OKAY so throughout the premiere we saw that maybe there was some trouble in Tantiss paradise for Emerie. Shes been content(?) with complying and doing what is asked of her up until this point, but we saw her be willing to break rules for Omega’s sake, and we also saw how shaken she looked when Hemlock was like “Return to the lab, Dr. Karr”. She also looked like she was really pondering things at the end of episode three when she discovered Omega’s ability to support an M count transfer.

I think maybe during the rest of the season we’ll see her start to grapple with what she really wants to do here, as (I believe, in her own little way), she now has a sister she cares about and wants to protect. I think Omega, through her doll making and Batcher taming, has shown Emerie a little bit of light. That clones can have their own wants, and makes choices based off of them. But really, I don’t think a person who has presumably grown up being conditioned to follow rules and see herself as property would be able to quickly break out of that rigid structure shes used to and make a personal choice to try and keep Omega safe in a significant way.

What? Okay please just bear with me. Wording things is not my forte.

I think Nala Se will see an opportunity to further get in the head of an already torn Emerie. I think she might reveal her original purpose of essentially being made to protect omega. And emerie, who already sort of sees herself as a tool to being used for some greater purpose, will then feel almost like shes been given “permission” to disobey. Sort of like “Oh damn, not only is this something I want to do, but more importantly it was the purpose I was designed for yassssss”. I think she will continue acting as normal but will basically be a shooter on the inside for Omega and it will build up to her sabotaging further experimentation done on Omega if shes captured.

Idk if this makes sense or is dumb. But I just think it could be a cool avenue. Because we’ve seen clones grapple with what theyve done under imperial command and have seen some of them change their ways which is awesome. And, I think it could also be cool to see a character whos been so shaped by her upbrining, and doesnt have that soldier-ly sheer force of will to just defect. I think it could be cool to see someone go about a change of allegiance in a more roundabout way where they basically have to reason themselves through it because they arent equipped to do it any other way. But yeah its 2 AM now so goodnight.

Bonus: Here is an educational diagram I made of Emerie being “sent elsewhere” circa twentysomething BBY

[cutebutalsostabby]

In your opinion, what's the most important part of Marin's character arc in Link's Awakening?

Ooh! Ok! So! There are hints throughout the game that Marin knows more than she's letting on, but it's interesting to look at how her behaviour changes in the late game, around the time that Link starts to discover the island's secret.

She hangs around the Animal Village for a while, then mysteriously disappears. You run into her again while travelling between dungeons 7 and 8, and she almost tells you... something (screenshots from a video I found on YouTube).

Our owl friend then shows up and explains that Marin had been singing her Song of Awakening to the Wind Fish! The owl is actually part of the Wind Fish (as revealed later), but seems surprised by Marin's actions here.

Now there are two key pieces of lore you learn about the island: firstly, that everything on it will disappear if the Wind Fish awakens, and secondly that Link will die if the Wind Fish doesn't wake:

The Wind Fish slumbers long... the hero's life gone...

My impression is that Marin somehow knows both of those things. Her dialogue never directly addresses the issue, but she repeatedly says that Link will someday leave the island, and that he is the "kindest boy" she knows. I think her going to visit the egg herself is because she can tell Link is hesitating and she wants to try and take the decision out of his hands. Only she can't, without the instruments. Oof :(

Oops I made myself sad. RIP, dream girl.

Also that part where she pulls a pro gamer move in the village arcade is pretty neat.

[thecomfywriter]

🎇The Naveena-verse Show - Pilot 🎇

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

SCENE: the studio lights turn on, revealing a stage with one large red sofa on the left, a blue lazyboy on the right, and a loveseat between the two. A coffee-table sits centre of all the seats. Sitting on the blue lazyboy is a man with jet black hair, pale skin, and dark eyes that narrow with his devious smirk. It widens to a stage-worthy smile as he crosses his legs and smiles to the audience

I: Weeelcome folks! This is the first episode of your new weekly talkshow here on thecomfywriter network. Welcome to… The Naveena-Verse Show! 

Confetti sparks as a large screen behind the host flickers on with a glitching neon sign that reads, THE NAVEENA-VERSE. 

I: I’m your host, Ian Obsidian, one of the rejects of thecomfywriter’s wips. While my career as a star is over, I’m not done yet! I’ll be the voice of the public, here to interview all the cast and characters of thecomfywriter network’s books! Here on this show, we get into the nitty-gritty, asking scandalous questions, reveal nailbiting lore, and delve deep into the psyche of these characters. You’re going to get the childhood stories. The traumatizing events. The hidden crushes. The scandalous affairs. Every rumour, every whisper, every question— I am here to make sure you all get the answers you seek. 

The wall-sized screen flashes with the hashtags, #askthecomfywriter, #thenaveenaverseshow, and #TCWsubmitaquestion

I: Before we introduce our guests for today, let me explain how the show works. We announce the featured guests, or ocs as they are more commonly known as, ONE WEEK prior to the show. This is your chance to use these hashtags on the screen to submit posts, questions, rumours you want addressed, gritty lore you want exposed.. Anything and everything. Nothing is too far. Not when your host is Ian Obsidian ;)

The camera zooms in at Ian Obsidian winking at the audience.

I: For a little preview, I’ll tell you the questions I already have lined up for today’s unfortunate contenders. A little birdie told me of the sister who kissed her sister’s boyfriend some time ago— OOPS! Or the same sister who continues to sabotage her sister’s every relationship, whether it be platonic or romantic. Hmmmm... I wonder why? We’ll find out, that’s for sure. And then, of course, the well-mannered, perfectly calm and moral protagonist who hides a secret sadism behind the warmth of his eyes. Say… isn’t he the same man who feasted on the blood of all his victims? Or are we not supposed to talk about how he imprisoned his own father and electrocuted him repeatedly for the sake of it? Hmm… I wonder what his morality had to say about excusing the mass murders his serial-killer mentor proudly admits to committing. 

The audience gasps as Ian Obsidian grins more sinisterly. 

I: And then, we can’t skip the other sister, who hides snakes in her necklace and insanity behind her smile. The girl who always goes unnoticed. The serpent in the grass, the unnoticed shadow who notices all— the girl who pretends she wasn’t the thief who poisoned an entire feast she offered a starving man. Lastly, the charming face of his kingdom. The celebrity, the schemer, the pawn. A puppet to his parents, to the monarchy he hates, and every guardian he has that doesn’t want him. I do wonder what the secret behind his infantile memory is? Or his loathsome attitude towards his poor younger sister. 

Ian Obsidian shuts the screen off behind him and makes direct eye contact with the camera. 

I: Have I intrigued you yet? Good. I hope you have your questions lined up. If you have any other rumours you’d like address… If any little birdies have been singing on your balconies— submit them in @thecomfywriter’s submission box. Our ask box and post submission are both appropriate methods, but you can also reblog this interview with the following hashtags and your questions: #askthecomfywriter, #thenaveenaverseshow, and #TCWsubmitaquestion. Once again, that’s #askthecomfywriter, #thenaveenaverseshow, and #TCWsubmitaquestion.

The room goes dark, with only the voice of Ian Obsidian to break through the darkness. 

I: Now, without further ado… let’s introduce our first guests, shall we?

A spotlight shines down on Ian Obsidian. 

I: Known as the founders to @thecomfywriter’s career. Perhaps their most famous— or perhaps infamous, depending on who you ask. The characters who rule the program, who hold the crown of reverence— the golden geese of @thecomfywriter network! Introducing… the legendary! The iconic! The controversial! The cast of Throne of Vengeance!

The audience applauses as the spotlight switches over to the four people entering the room. In walks, front and centre, Caramel with her flaming red hair and sparkling blue dress; Alan with his modest smile and humble vest and trousers; Cara with her bonny smile and trademark grey and purple outfit; and Morreial ja with his famous ja smile and casually flamboyant suit. 

I: Come in! Come in, folks! Take a seat! Get comfy! What will you have to drink? Unfortunately, we don’t have any broopasha here, but we have sugar-

Caramel: Ew. 

Morreial ja chuckles, trying to draw attention to himself. Meanwhile, Cara simply presses her eyes closed, and Alan grimaces. 

CM: Sorry. Was that rude? I just hate sugar on its own. Broopasha is fine, but sugar? Yuck yuck, ew ew. 

Cara [whispering]: Okay, Red. I think he gets it.

Morreial: Thank you for having us today. Water will be fine for now. 

Alan: If it is no trouble! Thank you. We appreciate your hospitality immensely.

CM: No water for me! That's so boring, guys, what? I’ll take spiced tea! Extra spicy! >:)

Ian Obsidian looks between each cast member, then to the audience with an amused grin. 

I: My my… we’re already off to a great start. 

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

OKAY! I HAVE NO EXPLANATION. I DON’T KNOW WHY I DID THIS INSTEAD OF ALL THE PENDING PROJECTS I PROMISED. I just thought this would be a fun little series to start. A mini talk show where you get to interact with the characters directly, rather than as the author speaking on their behalf. All the tag games I’ve been doing put the idea in my head. 

Anyway! Submit a question! An ask, a post submission, a reblog, a comment… doesn’t matter! Go buckwild, go crazy! Otherwise, I’ll probably just go into the questions I teased in this introduction :))) 

Happy writing! 

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

Tagging the TCW crew, as well as the last 10 accounts that interacted with my posts!

Interact with this post here to be added to the TCW tag list :)

TCW Tags List:

@lunaeuphternal @the-golden-comet @renasdoodles

@drchenquill @zackprincebooks @wyked-ao3 @satohqbanana

@toragay-writing @the-letterbox-archives @kind-lion

@mysticstarlightduck @agirlandherquill @storyteller-kara

Last 10 accounts* to interact with my posts:

*i really hope yall are actually writeblrs. something, i can't tell because there is a lot of writing reblogs, but not a lot of wip content??? so ignore this if you're not actually a writer who wants to share their own work! :)

@awleeofficial @finickyfelix @dahliaontherun

@willtheweaver @skullduggeryandfilibuster @fandomloverfan

@mandylynn4 @twistthing @gaymessallday

@prettyprincess082394

AGAIN! feel free to ignore if you were the last 10 tagged and you want nothing to do with this LMAO. this is just a fun way for me to meet new people in the community and see if they actually are writeblrs :)

[veraynes-blog]

I'm Not Dead

Hi 🙃 I took an impromtu break from tumblr over the last, uh... 6 weeks. Oops. Sorry for the silence, and if I haven't responded to messages during that time! I'll make a start on wading through what I've missed today. 

So. My fandom updates, if wanted: 

I've watched most of the Doctor Who new season except for the two-part finale, which we'll be watching tonight. I have some mixed feelings, but overall I'm enjoying! The episode 73 Yards was great, the most "RTD classic" so far, and I loved the episode Dot and Bubble, although I gather it divided opinions? I can see why. But the satire leading up to the genuinely dark moments did it for me as a genre. 

I'm very late to the party, but i started playing Elden Ring and I'm obsessed. I feel like i could research the lore like a dissertation topic. Also I'm pleasantly surprised to discover I'm not terrible at the game itself! 

Finally, losing my MIND over the Dragon Age updates and reveal!! It's finally here! 😩 It's real, it's happening! It actually looks good??? I know this isn't my main fandom here (mostly because there hasn't been a new game in an entire decade) but if anyone is as excited/nervous/invested as I am, please do let me know!! 

Anyway, glad to be back 😊