#this was long and ardous

[multiipl]

─── ❝ What do you mean you haven’t eaten in 3 days!? Are you serious!? Come now! I will fix you something up right away! ❞

[cultofthepigeon]

baby update:

mommy and babies eat inside now, so we can better monitor that theyre all eating and not bullying each other out of food lol

Salem made the mistake of coming in and hissing at mommy Socks.....while the babies were right between them

she got a minor ass beating and lost a few tuffs of hair, but didnt shit herself this time so shes improving!

the babies were unbothered

also we foubd out Binks has a little heart shape spot right under her butthole

[historiaxvanserra]

Reverence

Pairing: Azriel x female!reader

Description: Azriel’s love had always been rough-edged but in the soft light of morning his love is reverent, devout, almost holy.

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: 18+ only! this wasn’t a request it’s just shameless smut without plot (dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral sex, etc).

This is the sequel to Ruin but they can be read separately. Part II here.

Tossed from the bosom of dreams and into the arms of a pastel morning you wake with a jolt.

The sun perforates through the thin satin of the curtains and fractured light illuminates the room in golden shadows. It’s a myriad of dancing light, like a broken kaleidoscope, sparkling and shattered– but beautiful still. The sun soaks your dewy skin with her burning kisses, searing white hot into naked flesh and the smell of sleep and sex lingers in the air. You lie cocooned between creased sheets, and recount the night before; his rough touches, and the feeling of his calloused palms as they gripped your hips, his chest and how it tasted of salt, his lips and the curses that fell from them like prayers as pleasure washed over you both.

Your fingers ghost over the bruises that he has left. They bloom like roses on the expanses of exposed skin. The stirring of the body next to you, pulls your from the thoughts of last nights tryst. Rolling onto your side you’re greeted with Azriel’s sleeping figure; his hair falls in messy strands onto his face, the longer hairs sticking to his forehead that is coated in a thin veil of sweat, his long eyelashes press against the tops of his fine high cheekbones and the dull crescent moons under his eyes are hardly visible, his mouth parts slightly, soft snores erupting from him. You watch closely as the rise and fall of his chest lulls you into a hazy state wakefulness. He looks at peace in this light, the shadowed sunbeams ribboning onto his sleeping form casting him in a heaven-yellow light.

Lost in introspective thoughts you don’t realise that he has woken from his slumber. His eyes flutter open, hazel irises illuminated in the daylight, flecks of gold and amber that melt into leafy green. Your eyes bore into his and the ghost of a smile forms on your face as he rubs the remnants of sleep from his eyes.

Still half-dreaming Azriel snakes his arms around you, pulling you closer to him, feeling the heat of his body and the beating of his heart in his chest that rises and falls in a steady rhythm. His mouth runs blazing trails of messy kisses down your neck and along your collarbones, nipping at the sunkissed skin of your shoulders and whispering words of adoration into perfumed skin. The memories of not so distant fever dreams, passion still hot in his veins only this morning in the soft, pale light his love is gentle, careful, almost holy.

You relish in his tight embrace and the heat of his skin thaws the cold morning chill away. Him and the sun; burning and ardent. You sigh contently as the gentle kisses he places at the base of your neck become more urgent, breathing him in as he runs his fingers through your hair, you are reminded what heaven smells like; icy air and cedar. Brushing a stray hair from his forehead you stretch in his hold and you bruise like fruit flesh in his tender grip.

Azriel shifts in his position, rolling onto his forearms and his hands settle between your shoulders and your head, sweeping your hair which has fallen in haphazard curls away from your face. Your body curls into him, fitting together like it was always supposed to be this way-- you and him in the pale morning light.

Swallowed by his height and the expanses of his broad shoulders you run your hands over the taut muscles beneath his skin. As your body, still flirting with sleep, melts into him, you snake your arms around his neck, one hand stroking the loose strands of chestnut at the nape of his neck and the other tracing the inky patterns along his right shoulder blade. Your lips meet his slowly, breathing him in with ardour and adoration, deepening the kiss, your swollen lips pressing into his harder this time. Azriel’s hands come to either side of your face, cradling you in his palms, the calloused pad of his thumb tracing soft circles onto the skin of your cheek, running along your cheekbones, temple and jaw. His lips move slow against yours as you melt into each other. He sighs into your mouth, taking you into him, clinging to you, his breaths synchronising with yours and lulling you into a state of bliss.

The way he touches you is full of devotion and something akin to worship. He looks at you more reverently than he does any divine being or High-Fae. He doesn’t know if he believes in a The Mother but looking at you all sleepy, and sunkissed and ethereal, wrapped up in divine light he believes in something. He’s been searching for too long for a place to worship and you, whispering his name like sin against his skin and your hands scorching his flesh, seem the closest to the next world that he will ever get.

He rocks gently into you, his lips dragging across the skin of your neck, brushing his knuckles over the soft, exposed planes of skin at your ribcage, only stopping to whisper in a language you can’t understand, words comparable to prayer.

In those fleeting moments, doused in pale light as he moves over you, it’s clear that the need for each other outweighs all else. Yearning for release, longing for him makes everything more intoxicating. Your breathing grows laboured and heavy with a serene bliss, your senses blur, drunk on his touch and the heat of his skin on yours. His calloused hands, once covered in blood, kiss hymns up your sides, scars grazing over yours, skin whispering and limbs, like heavenly bodies caress your supple skin as they curled into each other, entwining two bodies and becoming one.

His breath hitches in his throat, coming out in breathy rasps as he comes to rest upon your hip, you push your bare hips into his. His cock hardens, silken and cool marble beneath your touch as you press against him in an unyielding rhythm. He groans, his eyes darkening and boring into yours, lips parting and eyes drifting shut so beautifully that your walls tighten at the sight of him. You stroke your hand up and down his length, growing harder under the delicate touch of your hand– the hand of the Gods he thinks to himself.

Azriel pulls your hand from him and entwined his fingers with your own, kissing you, he sucks your lower lip lightly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. He begins to kiss down your jaw, the crook of your neck, the base of your throat and collarbones, the peaks of his knuckles ghosting the skin of your hips and thighs. Dipping his head into the valley of your breasts, his nose and beard grazing the silken skin as he hums against you, taking a hardening nipple in his mouth while he massages the other. He has committed the maps of your body to memory; always able to find a home in you, returning to those sweet spots he knows make you weak. Giving yourself over to him you exhale, arching your back into him, his one hand holding you, where your back curves away from the bed and into him.Your lips parting with a gasp as his tongue runs light circles over your nipples, flicking them slowly, the grain of his stubble rough against your softness.

Sinking slowly down the curves of your body, savouring you in the light of the rising sun, Azriel prays to you, his words and his touch like velvet over your skin and into your ears. Whispers of worship and the sound of his lips on your skin, marking you as his. You thread your fingers through the tresses of his head when his head settles between your parted thighs kissing odes into the skin there.

You cry out softly, gentle rasps, like hymns when his tongue begins to circle your clit. Sliding his strong arm over your hips so he can hold you still, his muscles, taut and contracting beneath the skin, he holds you down with ease. You’re painted in a blush the colour of the dawn sky as he runs his tongue up your folds, watching your hips struggle to roll in his hold, his pupils dilating and sharpening, a look of devout adoration glinting in his hazel eyes.

Azriel’s tongue sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, heat that creeps up your spine and pools in the pit of your stomach. Your mouth falls agape, a string of curses and praises falling from your pink lips. A soft furrow of your brows in an effort to stop yourself coming undone. Your pleasure and heavenly moans only make him grow more ravenous, he hums deeply as his tongue, inside of you, causes your hips to roll in protest. Sliding his hands around your hips he holds you to him, continuing his assault against you until you’re begging to come undone, begging for him. He draws his lips away from your core, only obliging you by pressing two fingers into your tightness, your walls fluttering around him. His lips fall open, laboured breaths falling from his lips in curses.

You fist at the sheets, needing him close as your body begins to writhe under him, the slow, hypnotic movements of his fingers making you ache. He returns to you, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before pressing his forehead to yours and watching you as he thrusts his finger inside of you; a thin veil of sweat on his brow, lips parted and through his eyes darkened in lust you swear you see his soul.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers, silencing your gasps with kisses, “I’ve got you.”

Your walls begin to clench around his fingers and Azriel’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes leave yours, that search for heaven behind his, to watch himself once more, his fingers curling into your sweet spot, swearing before your permit him to put his lips upon yours again.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, “Come for me.”

Unravelling, coming undone is easy with his words in your ears and his arms sheltering you, cradling you against his chest as your body quakes with the rippling waves of your orgasm as you come, your cries quiet against Azriel’s lips.

Gentle and unyielding, he doesn’t give you time to recover, sitting up and pulling you into his lap, your ankles digging into the base of his spine and the length of his cock, like marble smooth and hard at your entrance. Adjusting to his size you hold Azriel’s face and look down to his parted lips, drinking in his breathless sighs and whispers of reverence as you roll your hips against the thickness of his cock. Swearing sharply, he arches himself into you filling you. His knuckles grazing the knots in your spine, he holds his lips against your forehead as his thumb traced the outline of your swollen lips, smiling against you when your kiss the calloused pad of his thumb.

“you okay, pretty baby?” Azriel murmurs, voice soft and soothing against your skin, nodding in response to your hum of agreement. “Always so good for me.”

Slowly at first, he fucks into you, gradually gaining momentum as your tightness yields to him. You’re left unable to answer his question, moaning into the crook of his neck, trying to muffle your cries. He combs the messy strands of hair that has fallen into your face with his fingers, curling them away from your face while your name, like some ancient prayer, falls from his parted lips. His hands roam your body, touching with delicate caresses the curves and contours of your body, his arm resting on the bottom of your spine, his hand splayed across the small of your back as he thrusts into you, your hips rolling to meet his movements.

“Don’t stop,” you say airily, tugging on the dark hair that rests at the nape of his neck.

His head falls back, eyes closed and lips parted as he draws closer to his own orgasm. Azriel’s head falls to rest in the crook of your neck, his forehead settling onto your skin marked with the ghosts of his adoration. Unable to find the words, he only growls vows into your skin as his hand on your back pulls you further into him.

With your bliss encroaching the world seems to blur at its edges, bursts of colour and white light momentarily blinding as he fucks into you at an unforgiving pace, his thrusts rough and sporadic as he teeters on the edge of heaven.

Azriel moves you upon his cock and it brings a blush to your skin, pink staining the exposed flesh of your chest. Your moans now little more than whispers as he brings you to the brink of paradise, your body wrapped around his as he lays you back down, pressing your into the bed. Azriel pulls away admiring the glow of your skin in the morning light as the sun peeks over the horizon; the pink and gold sun beams falling in technicolour ribbons and becoming tangled between the waves of your hair. As he comes back to you, pressing his lips roughly to yours his hips begin to snap into yours at a faster pace than before, desperate for release. His lips never leave yours, holding your face in his hands again, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. He groans against you, your ankles crossed against the small of his back, holding him in place.

Your orgasm stirs in your stomach like a raging tempest, whispers of pleasurel dissolves into profanity. Stroking your cheeks, running his thumb over your jaw and up your neck, and whispering in your ear those words that only he knows, he sanctifies your body, bringing a hand to your clit, rubbing slow circles and coaxing your orgasm closer still, so you give yourself over to him and sacrifice never felt so unholy.

Azriel’s name once fierce on your tongue dissolves like sugar, like prayer– you whisper it. Unholy against rose petal lips. It catches in your throat like confessional and he fucks you like a God. Thrusting deeply into you, as his lips leave blazing kissed along your collar bones, his thrusts don’t slow even as the heat of him spills inside you.

There’s no scripture that ever foretold you of such sweet agony; his hands in yours, or his lips that atone a mass across your heaving chest, or the blasphemy he rasps when he spills into you. His fingers bruise like sin into the cradle of your hips. When he’s buried so deeply inside of you until the only word you know– his name– falls from your lips. You wonder if other angels fell so sweet.

Laying you back down on the bed he sits back, pulling out of you watching his orgasm spill from you with a lustful gaze. He rubs comforting circles into your hip with his thumb, his head tilts slightly as he watches you; the rise and fall of your chest beginning to even out, his skin on yours grounding you to this earth. Your skin sheened with a thin veil of sweat, pallid in the divine light of high summer.

Crawling to him, kissing his damp chest that tastes of salt and sweat, and taking his softening cock in your hand, his moans are gospel against your bare chest. Azriel groans softly, his eyes closing as your hand on his skin is a familiar paradise.

You lean your forehead against his and graze the tip of your nose with his, as your lips moved to meet him halfway. Before he kisses you, those amber eyes lock with yours and linger there, as if to convey what your words could not. The harsh edges of your narrow eyes soften. He looks at you in a way that assures you it will be this way, always. All you can do is kiss him, inhaling slowly as you press your lips to his. A warmth settles in your chest when his eyes catch yours again. Laying on his chest, melting into him again, you breathe him in and he hums gently. The heat of the sun and the comforting silence lulls you into a misty wakefulness.

Your finger ghosts his tattoos where the sharp blade of his shoulder meets inky black shadow and your legs entangle themselves in his as he murmurs vows of reverence in a foreign tongue against your dewy skin. The sun finally breaks over the horizon, the veins of amber, topaz and molten gold illuminate the sky.

It’s then he realises that not all angels are made of flesh and feather, milk and honey, molten gold and stardust; some are made of scars and sin, sleep and sweat, flesh and blood and in the heaven yellow light you look holy to absolve him

[ludinusdaleth]

it always makes me sad hearing the quests "discerning the transmundane" & "touching the sky" (and their respective zones, blackreach & the forgotten vale) are generally hated for being long & ardous, because for me, they are skyrim at its best. exploring a massive unique area you'll never truly find every corner of with a questline drenched in lore that is at times peak deliciously incomprehensible & pretentious, standing in an absolutely beautiful land with air choking you alive with history your character was destined to be a part of, thats what tes is ABOUT for me

[fools-ramblings-and-whatnot]

Test Subject (Vil x F!Reader)

Summary: The Youngest offers herself to the Queen, hoping he would return the favor

(Prologue) (Eldest Sister) (Second Sister) (Third Sister)

.

.

Sometimes you wondered if your sisters have ever saw you as you. Not the Youngest child. Not the sick child. Just you...

They always liked to keep secrets from you to save your feelings.

When the money gets too low but you get to have your medicine prepared and always complete despite its soaring prices

When the food is scarce so they pretending be busy with somethng,mending clothes, writing plays or tending the gardens, so that you get to eat first. So that you dont get to see your bowl is full while they share the bottom of what's left of the cauldron.

You hated it.

Felt like it was an insult more than a gesture of love.

You didnt mean to act picky or ungrateful or anything like it...but complaints always come out of your mouth, hoping that maybe if you acted out they'd stop babying you and treated you like a sister.

The Second and the Third would always bicker, pull on each others hair and on the occasion hurt each other. Then by dinner time they'd be cozying up on each other so that one could ask favor for the next day.

You could only ever dream of experiencing such sisterhood.

They have deemed you far too weak to be upset about.

They never tell you things, except the occasional light scolding.

Now they left you alone, with more questions than answers than ever.

You heard about the Magic Mirror in the West. A mirror that can answer any question, even the deepest darkest secrets.

So you set out on your journey, with a few coins and some things you deemed a necessity, hoping to find some answers.

.

.

.

The journey was long and ardous but with your new found vitality you made it to your destination.

The villagers warned you to not go to the castle. That the magic mirror wasn't worth the risk of angering the Queen. You didn't listen, you never do.

So when you found yourself pierced with an arrow to your heart yet surprisingly still alive you had nothing to say to yourself...

The Hunter who did the damage saw you, bleeding yet still alright, the wound healing quickly when he pulled the arrow out, he had nothing else to do but bring you to His Queen.

The Queen was beautiful, even prettier than those picture book heroes your Third sister fawned over.

He looked at you curiously, and then before he could speak you intervened.

"Please let me use the magic mirror" you plead.

He seems unamused like he was looking down more at an uninteresting shrub than a person.

You bit your lip.

You were not used to being denied, and it seems like he wasn't used to being talked to the way you did.

You try to recall how your sisters acted when they wanted something from one another.

You tried again, bowing your head.

"Please, I'm begging you. I'll do you a favor!" You beg, this time more earnestly.

You heard a scoff. You turned red.

Yes, what possibly can an All powerful Queen who also happened to be a mage need? What do you have to offer?

You tried to wrack your brain. What did the villagers say? What did the rumors says?

He was beautiful...He was cruel...

What else?

He was a master of poisons...

Your stomach dropped.

If you were most likely gonna be tortured it was better if you were dead---wait!

Without thinking much you offered yourself to him.

Using what little you knew about the Queen you offered yourself as a test subject. You knew based on the rumors that he used his prisoners to test his potions and spells. Experimenting on them to make a strong enough poison that would work on a Prince from you-don't-remember-where who seems to be immune to most poisons.

You would help him create that poison by letting him test on you.

You were foolish enough, to bet that if you ever did die you would just wake up again, like the last time you experienced the same.

If the Queen was pleased he didnt show it. He simply instructed another aide to show you to your new room.

[satureja13]

Jack is still visiting the temple regularly to get help with his pain. Arturo doesn't ask questions about the Boys' stay here in the otherworld - but since Kiyoshi is fully back from the tree, Arturo knows all of this had shaken them up. So he invited them to a little dinner party.

Arturo: "Friends - we have a celebration today. Our diety returned into the worlds again. Many obstacles lie behind - new tasks lie ahead. But today lets just be joyful!" All listened up. Saiwa: "A diety? Kiyoshi?" Jack in his little Armadillo Bubble thinks this is good news. Kiyoshi being a diety means he'll be far far away from him and he can heal in peace...

Kiyoshi: "What?" Arturo: "What 'what'? You have your temple here, your servants. Your believers make their ardous way here to the Otherworld to worship you and see your wonders. To ask for healing and help. To see the tree that you lived in and lit up for decades."

Saiwa asked Arturo what this means for them. Dtui said they should stay together until Kiyoshi 'learned' from his mistakes and Other Jeb also urged them to stay together to avoid some of them getting killed. Arturo: "Oh, the Master doesn't have to stay here. The believers are used to not getting to see him. They believe in the tree, you know?" Saiwa doesn't know. This is so weird... Arturo: "The tree is fine without the Master all time around. It still does it's wonders. I was able to heal Jack and help other believers that came here - even when Kiyosho wasn't here. Just take him with you and when you're able to help me a bit around here - I'd be grateful." Saiwa: "Of course we'll do that. Thank you for everything, Arturo."

Kiyoshi doesn't know what to think anymore. He went to the otherworld to forget about Jack and reflect on his mistakes after he got banned from the Temple in Mount Komorebi because he lost control over his demon. And now he's a diety? (That's not the first time such things happen, Kiyoshi ^^' Even though you are far from being enlightened.) Arturo: "Now let's eat and be joyful - the Master returned!" He didn't need to say this twice to Jack (there's pizza!) and the goats. The others are not so sure if they can eat now ö.Ö'

Little Goat: "He said we can eat anything today!" Little Goat: "What a great party!" Little Goat: "Long live the Master!"

After dinner Arturo cleaned up and the others are doing their chores around the temple.

Before they left, Arturo took Saiwa aside. Arturo: "I'm a bit busy with all the visitors we have here at the temple since the Master is back and I know you can't tell me about anything that's going on with you, but here is a little present for you. Put this circuit board in a device that's strong enough and it will help you through this." Saiwa: "Ok? Thank you."

'When you are old enough to read these words Their meaning will unfold

These words are all that's left and though we've never met, my only son. I hope you know that I would have been there to watch you grow But my call was heard and I did go Now your mission lies ahead of you As it did mine so long ago

To help the helpless ones, who all look up to you And to defend them to the end

Defender Ride like the wind. Fight proud, my son You're the defender God has sent'

Defender - Manowar

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🛺 'Home happy Home' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: 🛺 'Home crappy Home' from the beginning ▶️ here 🌴 'The Expedition' from the beginning ▶️ here 🎤 'Putting the Boys Back together' from the beginning ▶️ here 🥀 'Disbandment of the Group' from the beginning ▶️ here

[dragonnarrative-writes]

I had an idea and nothing to do with it so I'm sharing it: Pianist!Reader who becomes a neighbour to Gaz and Soap.

Soap: demands Reader plays Flower of Scotland at all hours of the day

Gaz: slips classical music suggestions under the door, denies having done this

Soap: battles that bitch Karen at 1A who complains about constant noise by assembling and disassembling guns As Loud As Possible

Gaz: goes with Reader on the long, ardous quest to buy a new piano (is armed with a bag that contains three water bottles, snacks, tissues, random collection of sheet music stolen from Reader, a notebook and pen, a recorder, measuring tape)

Gaz and Soap and the rest of the 141: somehow get dragged into carrying a fucking baby grand up five floors of stairs with Reader screaming at them DON'T DROP THIS PLEASE THIS COSTS MORE THAN MY ENTIRE LIFE LOOK OUT FOR THE CORNER DON'T SCRATCH THE WOOD!!!!!

Ghost: about murders Reader. Gets piano up the stairs instead.

A BABY GRAND, ANON??????

------

You aren’t going to pull your hair out. You’re not. You’re so stressed you’re almost not breathing, but you can be calm. So calm. You’ve never been so calm in your-

The big guy, Simon, grunts and shifts his weight, and the bulk of the piano tips, ever so slightly toward the wall.

“Please-”

“If you ask me to be careful one more time,” he grunts up at you, before you can say anything else, “I will throw this thing back down the stairs.”

Above Simon, Johnny and Kyle are looking more than a little winded. They’re so close to the apartment, just half a flight and a couple of meters of hallway. You have faith that they’ll make it. You have to. It’s not like they can stop. You’re trying not to hover, at the top of the stairs, but it’s so fucking hard.

A firm hand takes hold of your elbow and draws you away, toward your door. You try to resist, but John, the other man you met today, is guiding you away.

“Let’s clear the hall so that they have the space they need when they get up here.”

Something gives an ominous thump behind you, and you try to turn back. “But-!”

“Nope,” he says, clamping both hands on your shoulders and marching you away.

[blueishspace]

(Slay The Watcher route 4 p2)

Mumbo: Am... Am I dreaming this?

Scar: Huh?

The Narrator: Excuse me?

Mumbo: Is this like a very lucid dream?

The Narrator: What? No! Why would you-

Mumbo: It doesn't really make sense ...the whole premise doesn't make sense, it sounds like dream logic.

Scar: That's...true.

The Narrator: It's not!

Mumbo: Like...Why are we in a forest? How did we get here?

The Narrator: You are just...at the end of a long and ardous adventure...

Mumbo: That's not true... I was just... I was just...

Scar: M-mumbo?

Mumbo: I don't...remember? Scar do you remember anything from before being here?

Scar: Oh! Of course friend! Let's...see...hmmm... that is weird It's-

The Narrator: Nothing to worry about!

Prev Next First

[isat-script-project]

NEW!!! BUTTONS!!!

Hi hello hi hello. If you check out the script site now, you might notice something....

Buttons!

That's right. You now have a floating settings menu to accompany you down the page, on both desktop AND mobile!

First, you see that pretty "Go to top" button, yeah? No more scrolling back up! Fling yourself up at incredible speeds with one easy click~

And that second thing there, settings?

If you click it, something special happens!

More buttons!

You're going to recognize some dear old friends in there. The "Toggle expressions" button as well as the Font Changers (Default, Cascadia Mono, and OpenDyslexic3) have been moved to this section from the sidebar!

As well as a new addition, which started me down this long and ardous (somewhere around 4ish hours of dicking around) path, the "Toggle choices" button!

This one opens and closes all dialogue options. The swanky things you can click on. Please do note about this one, it switches around what's opened and what's closed. If you're fresh on a page, everything is closed by default, so it doesn't matter. If you clicked it once to open everything, then it'll close everything. If you've already opened some things but not others, eheh,,, Yeah, well, it's easier to make this way.

Hope you enjoy the changes! Do you like them? Do you not like them? Did you notice that I changed how the header looks on mobile and it's like, way better now? Are the buttons annoying? Say something, if you've got something to say~

And that is all from me, to you.

Toodles~

(Special thanks once again to glowstar for helping with this and listening to me rant about my progress in vaer dms. Yahoo.)

[madame-fear]

Lucerys x wife! reader where he is Lord of the Tides and they both wake up to their baby crying. Luke can see his wife is very tired and tries to helps her by taking the baby in his arms, singing to him and whispering words of love. Reader watches completely in love 🥰

*ೃ༄ 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 .ೃ࿐

— summary : [ — ✧ request ] — word count : 1.4k

— pairing : dad! lord! lucerys x wife!reader — genre : fluff

Two full moons after being officially named as Lord and Lady of Driftmark while you were with child, your first son was born. Being already Lord and Lady of the Tides and constantly working, taking care of a newborn baby was another huge responsability that stressed you — even if you both held a deep love for your child.

Occasionally, the maidens in Driftmark helped you take care of your child, but their mere help was only useful when you were actually working or engaging in conversations with members of other Houses as to have more allies. The rest of the day, whether you were completely worn out or not, you had to take care of the child and actively engage with him yourselves as you were his parents.

Both of you had chosen the child to have his cradle in your own quarters, as it gave you a close sense of safety for him. And even if you were over the moon with having him close to the two of you, trying to sleep with a newborn babe in the same chambers as you was rather difficult after a long day of onerous responsabilities as the now Lord and Lady of Driftmark.

Being abruptly taken off the deep slumber in which you were immersed with Lucerys, loud baby crying echoed through the walls of your quarters — disturbing the tranquility of the night. A sigh graced off from you as your eyes indolently fluttered open, being accompanied by a quiet groan. Luke's hazel eyes darted towards your face as soon as they leisurely opened, noticing how the dark bags under your eyes became even more notorious with the passing of days. It was clear that you were exhausted from all your ardous duties as a Lady, plus as a new young mother.

“Seven Hells,” you murmured under your breath, as you could feel Luke beginning to wake up next to you as well due to the intense baby crying. “The babe is crying... Again.” your voice was raspy from how sleepy you felt. Lazily, you tried to reach the warm bedsheets as to uncover your body, and make your way towards your crying babe. But before you could get out of bed or simply do anything, Lucerys took a tight grip on your arm.

“Wait,” drowsily, you adverted your gaze towards Luke curiously at hearing him quietly speaking, and feeling his grip. “I want you to please rest, my love. I will take care of our little boy.” he said, leaning closer to you, and pecking your forehead. “Are you sure, Luke?” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows slightly while you watched him get off from bed with gentle footsteps towards the crying babe in the cradle.

The Lordling turned his head to you, with a smirk. “My love, you have been working too much not only as my Lady of the Tides, but as well as the mother of my son.” he spoke, having approached the cradle. “Allow me to help my dear wife with our babe while she rests.” a dumbfounded grin rapidly grew on your lips at seeing how loving Lucerys was as a Husband, Lord, and a father. A sudden weight being lifted off was felt travelling across your body as you laid back on bed.

When the baby crying seemed to intensify, Luke extended his arms inside the cradle to take hold of the baby, and delicately have him placed on his arms — rocking to the sides, back and forth. “Shhh,” he began, cooing softly. His green eyes admired lovingly his baby son wrapped around some silky ivory blankets, whom he held on his arms. Withouth being able to help it, your eyes remained open to see how your Lord Husband calm the babe. Lucerys daintly placed his rosy lips on the forehead of your baby son, resting them there for a few long seconds, overwhelmed of love.

“Your mother and I love you deeply, my sweet boy. But it's time to rest now.” he kept whispering under his breath, his eyes never leaving the small, fragile child that he was holding on his arms. It was a heartwarming scene to silently admire as you rested in bed, and if it was even possible, it made you fall even deeper in love with Lucerys. The young Lord then took a seat on a chair that stood next to the baby's cradle, near the window.

The babe's crying briefly stopped at some moments, yet it continued. Fortunately, the loud volume of his crying became leisurely lower as Luke cooed gently sweet continous whispers at him with a soothing voice, raising his fingertip to ever so delicately caress his little boy's nose tip. “Your beauty truly resembles that of your mother, my sweet boy.” as he kept murmuring to his son, your (e/c) eyes never left his graceful features being hit by the moonlight filtering through the window he sat nearby in a chair, as to hold the child properly.

A bit sickly in love, the previous smile dancing around the curves of your lips grew wider, admiring the surprisingly parenting skills of Lucerys.

While he rocked himself on the chair, holding your son tightly against his chest with a proud grin on those beauteous lips of his, Lucerys softly began humming. Luke hummed — and briefly sang in a low tone — a song in High Valyrian that he always used to sing when he had to soothe you from a bad moment before you officially got married, and simply courted you. The song to which, he had translated the lyrics for you in English, and had made you feel immersed in the Valyrian language for the very first time.

The violent, raucous baby crying began to softly vanish as your son's attention got fixed on his father's humming, and delicate caressing. What was crying, became babe babbling and soft coos; trying to sloppily reach with his little hand the finger that his father used to stroked his face, making Luke quietly chuckle to himself, and allowing his little beloved treasure to reach his finger, and wrap his hand around it.

The baby boy fully stopped crying, and it's coos faded away thanks to the sleepiness the gentle actions of his father brought him. Tiredly, his eyes began to flutter shut, resting against the warm body of Lucerys that continously rocked him.

Having your heart sunk with deep admiration and a profound sense of love for your husband, you lazily rolled off the side of your bed, beginning to make your way towards him in a cautious manner as to not awaken the child. Lucerys green eyes darted towards you gingerly, with a sheepish smile at seeing the glint of pride in your eyes. Pride, at having been blessed by the Seven for such family.

One of your hands glided from his arm, to his shoulder, and you leaned to the level of his lips, pressing a daint peck against them. The young Lord closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling at ease with the delicacy of your kiss. Then, your lips travelled to his forehead.

“How did I ever get so lucky to start a family with you, Lucerys?” you inquired rhetorically, gazing down at the sleeping child on his arms, and stroking his cheek with your thumb. Luke went from admiring your beauteous features, to tenderly admire his baby boy; the one he was so delighted and proud to have. A scoff escaped from him in response at your statement. “I should say the same, my beloved.” he retorted, raising his sight to stare at you with big, green puppy eyes.

“I love you, (y/n). I could never think of someone else to be my Lady of the Tides, and mother to my children. And I will gladly prove my love for you in any opportunity I am given to do so.” his words were a bit timid, but you could notice, they were more than wholeheartedly genuine. Especially, the glint of puppy love he carried; the one that was always there, from the moment he met you, to the moment you got married and pregnant with his child.

A wide, goofy grin appeared on your lips, and you once again leaned closer to him. Instead of responding with words, you grasped your lips against his own, and clicked a kiss against him. It was more than enough for an answer to prove him you felt the exact same way.

Parenting a newborn child while having being newly named Lord and Lady at the same time was certainly a hard task, but one you were certainly going to get through together, no matter whatever happened in your lives. And Lucerys was more than grateful to be able to help you in whatever you could ever possibly need.

♡ taglist : ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie

[shroudkeeper]

05. prompt / barbarous

There is something to be said about the history of ones hands; you could read volumes of the life they have endured. When I hold yours, I find myself with worry that you will one day realize the life I have created around you, see the permanent stain underneath my fingertips from blood long dried, remember each line of scarred flesh caused by blades.

These hands have been hardened from strife and combat; they have known the ardous existence that comes with maintaining control and order in a world that specialized in violence and dealings made in the dark recesses of society.

Yet, when you accepted them into your own, without question, without a lapse in judgement, it was the first time, in several years, they have known gentleness. They had been unaccustomed and absent to a welcoming touch, the pressure of something delicate that is not meant to be crushed. I had forgotten that they are easily capable of taking a life, but protecting them is incredibly difficult at times.

It is a lesson I had to relearn; I am not the perfect father, I will never claim to be. My sins could be written on scrolls that could stretch on for malms and beyond, yet one thing I hold true, is that I will never apologize for my actions and what I have done in the name of love, to safeguard something pure, someone akin to being otherworldly.

I will do it again.

We made an oath, when you chose to use the clan's surname and became my daughter, to destroy that have caused you harm. With these hands, that have formed a bond, I will take on your burdens, in order to keep the glimmer of joy that has been sparked by your presence. I want to spend days such as these, where I write haiku, recite poetry to the children that look up to you fondly.

To simply enjoy days such as these, it is worth the path of bodies I will create. While you protect others, I shall be your shield, the blunt weapon to use against those who would see you as a tool, who would use you for their selfish gains. Know that I do this out of fear, out of love, I hope that you will one day understand that this life I offer comes with enemies that would wish to see you wilt and see me suffer.

So I will help you remain in bloom..

even if I must become a monster in the process..and shoulder the weight of each transgression.

[xyoonx]

Falcon | ⟡

Storyline of Eden Clarence ! 🦅

Full story list . [Part 1]

Part: 2. 3.

Contains spoilers of Eden Clarence cards + main story + event stories.

[SR card] – Falcon.

"The barren wasteland welcomed its lone king."

Clarence grew up in underground shelters with his parents.

Despite Clarence's parents' impoverished state, they tried their best to make Clarence learn about the outside world.

Clarence's mother even traded their food to buy books for Clarence.

Clarence sees a picture of Falcon in the book and asks his mother about it. She explains about the bird's nature to young Clarence, making him even more intrigued about it.

The underground shelter collapses in an earthquake. Clarence then goes to an underground museum with the survivors. There, he sees a Falcon exhibit; fascinated by its majestic might. However, one of his peers breaks him out of his reverie and usher him to follow along.

Clarence then wakes up. Learning that all of that was a dream and that he had a severe wound in his abdomen.

His mentor, Liore, AKA "Shark", tends to his wounds, noticing that Clarence's eyes were red.

Clarence wipes his eyes, finding himself crying. He reassures himself saying that was merely a dream.

We then learn that NEOS like Liore can't dream, and that they forget about all their pains in the past.

We are also told that Clarence's parents died in the underground shelter during the earthquake. Clarence then stuck with the survivors team, still being adamant to find his parents, but no one told him that his parents had already passed away. The museum was attacked by sandswimmers, trapping every survivor there – and then, Liore saved Clarence.

Liore uses Clarence as bait for the sandswimmers since the sandswimmers like his scent.

And that brings us to seeing Liore as a lost after a long time – she loses hersl sanity and turns into a powerful Lost, named "Shark".

A group of NEOS once tried to hunt Liore down, but they all failed; Liore had bested them in battle. Falcon had discreetly followed the group; however, upon seeing that they failed, he tried to go back – but it was too late; Liore had already sensed his presence and another ardous battle ensued.

In the battle, Clarence was badly wounded; Liore was far too powerful. However, when she was about to give one last slash, she stopped, remembering Clarence, the youth she had saved from the sandswimmers' grasp.

Finding the opportunity, Clarence struck, finishing Liore. He then fled from the battlefield.

He returned afterwards, and failed to find Liore's body.

Falcon had then become a lonely NEOS, travelling across the desert, helping those in need, but never chosing a side.

[SR card] – Time to Hunt.

Falcon helps a mercenary team in exchange of a prize.

The team's shelter was surrounded by Sandswimmers; since Falcon was a powerful NEOS, they struck a deal with him for his assistance.

Falcon has keen senses of danger. He senses a sandstorm upcoming, however, none of the mercenaries believed him. Falcon ordered the gang to retreat, but they refused – arguing that their base was brim with sandswimmers. Falcon, however, left; he said that he'd return later for his payment.

Afterwards, the sandswimmers attack the group, and the sandstorm hits as well. At such a dire moment, the mercenaries all lose hope, when suddenly, a gunshot was heard along with the roars of the sandswimmers which echoed amidst the howling winds; Falcon returned to save the team.

Falcon used his sniper rifle to shoot down the sandswimmers. His eagle-vision helping him to shoot down the monsters with precision.

Falcon takes a risky move to lure the sandswimmers away using the scent of his blood, making the team retreat to the base safely.

The team returns to the base without wounds, however, Falcon was yet to return. The leader thinks that Falcon passed away, and that they should leave the shelter as well. But then, Falcon returned; with his limbs all in their places but tattered with scars. He was truly Falcon after all.

He receives his payment and sets off into the desert again.

Prologue + Main Story

While fighting the sandswimmers, MC meets Falcon. They work together, and break the ice. Falcon agrees to help MC find Eden and takes her there. However, he leves her to find her way in.

He then returned again when MC is cornered by Sparrow of the Order. Clarence decides to take the NEOS neophytes to Onyx Street to teach them how to survive, however, Ayn stops him since he wants MC to be in his team.

[choose Clarence.]

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Clarence takes MC to the NEOS association, which is run by Lin. We learn that Clarence once protected Lin's shelter, and he wants Lin to protect MC in Eden in return. However, he strictly says that he doesn't want Lin to drag MC into the association.

MC ends up fighting because, of course, no one wishes to lose someone they love twice.

*a montage of Clarence is being a tough guy on the outside but soft inside*

Clarence scolds Naledi for letting MC fight. MC scolds Falcon behind his back and Lin route happens.

(sorry, I cannot take his route seriously, it's so Lin focused...)

MC, the idealist hero, takes the responsibility of looking after other NEOS.

(well, because Lin is doing that as well, and MC supports her wholeheartedly and that she wanted to impress Naledi– but we don't speak of that; this is Falcon route, not Lin route :))

MC: *looking at Green Island* it's so pretty. Clarence: meh, it's mid. MC: ....

MC encounters Alkaid. Alkaid gives her roses and she refuses

My inner Alkaid girlie sobbed at that.

Lin pops up in between with something like "Is the Master of Eden bothering you, my queen?" vibe.

Night 2 battle; something happens, MC learns that all lost are human, Clarence tells her the story, MC cries.

Clarence drops the insane like "there's nothing sad about struggling to survive."

.......

[alevolpe]

13 and 16 for ami!

Alrighty!

Ami #13: the dumbest thing they've ever done.

Hmm, let's see. Well, again if we go with my more hc side of the narrative, it would be getting into a fist fight with Minako. But if you wanna go with the more canon Ami, I'd say that after her long and ardous online med school exams, she was writing casually on her notebook and she tapped her finger on the page 4 times trying to backspace, it took her a full minute to realize what she was doing.

#16: Deepest darkest secret they won't even admit to themselves

This is prob very controversial, but I see Ami debating with herself if she would ever try to kill someone as Mercury. And I'm not talking about just self defense, but a straight up planned attack on someone. She convinces herself that she's better than that, that she's a soldier of justice and that isn't something she would do, but with so much injustice, one bad day and a horrible human being in front of her, would she take it? She never answered that question.

[greatbritishsimchallenge]

“My Lady Sabina, it is so wonderful to finally meet you. May I introduce my sister, Lady Zelda of Newcrest, and my most Lady of the Chamber, Lady Elisaria of Windslar,” said Lady Colette, curtseying.

“To be sure, it is an honour to be in your presence, Lady Colette. After such a long and ardous journey, the sight of you is great balm for my eyes and mind. May I introduce my parents, Lord Daegal and Lady Gyda of Moonlightfalls, and my baby, Lord Whitefoot.”

At the word ‘baby’, Colette, Zelda and Elisaria all looked up with a sudden shock, to be quickly consoled when they realised Lady Sabina was indicating the dog at her feet.

“Oh, he is too precious,” cooed Lady Colette, “- and I too think of my little Bo as my baby, though I am afraid he is getting quite old now. Please, come inside. We shall have some wine and talk a while.”

Start (Iron Age) | Start (Roman Britain) | Start (Anglo Saxon) | Start (Medieval)

Previous | Next

[kendrixtermina]

(there is a perpetual uneasiness in the state of being conscious)

I.

I am awake in the darkness,

afraid to die.

A helpless thing dissolving in the acid of time,

like every other helpless thing that dares to stick out its bony hands.

Whatever I look at,

whatever which angle I stand to contemplate it from

I cannot think of anything but sad things.

I just want to tear everything out.

I think I can just barely bear it only as long as nobody talks to me.

I am raw and bloody and bruised and sore

wherever anyone has even thought of laying hand of me

wherever the fabric has pressed with the slightest force

overwrought fibres hanging out like tattered cloth

vise-gripped into some inadvisable state of tightness and bentness

Ah yes,

something is taking its sweet time

taking ever such slight bites of me,

vestigal rudiments withered from disuse

The days pass through me and I cannot hold them

To be witnessed would be intolerable.

II.

I am a cluster of eyes, taking off its skin.

I am a vague outline of silhouette, a possibly seen shadow,

depositing a little something on the table.

I am the memory of a dancing drunken fairy

that ceases to make sense in the morning.

I’m that old lady that the physicians didn’t properly bother to revive.

I’m that forgettable office drone you assembled

using a cheaper than usual package of ACME robot emotions.

I’m that questionably designed doll that was found kind of creepy

even when it was new and sparkling,

when it hasn’t been any of those things in a long time.

I am the thousand hands pulling at red flesh so as to turn it into something not recognizable.

I am a family portrait of mushrooms, framed in a dramatic composition.

I am that thing in the living room chair

that can’t be bothered to stop burning.

I am those pitiful remains there hanging off

that alien flesh blob on the ceiling

where maybe a head once could have been, some while back.

I am the lurid zombie that grins back at you,

in some obscene state of undress,

maggot holes all bared,

asking audaciously of worms.

And I am that blasted monolith in the distance

that never ever seems to come the slightest bit closer,

no matter how many ardous days of journeys you waste towards it.

III.

The angels envy us.

The dead wish they were alive,

and the more time you spend talking to a doll,

the likelier that it is to be running away screaming

at the prospect that it might be turning into one of those very very real girls.

The only conclusion one can be possibly left with,

is that all states are intollerable, all ways of being.

Some way temporarily just have convinced themselves,

that this ardor is worth suffering,

and thece lies their vilest snare.

But I don’t think that anyone really believes it,

not while they’re not actively trying to convince themselves of such.

Even beauty surprises us, because it’s so unlikely to encounter any reprieve.

If it were the default case in any sense, why even feel more contentment

than in the intake of needed, but rather unexamined breath?

While you know that you live, you know you can die,

but without knowing, nothing leaves a mark on you.

So you’re free then to know, to notice

the animatronic plastic peeling off the clunky hydraulics in your hand.

The infected, reddish rim where the tube pokes right out of your flesh.

The mushroom-eaten, the dried up fleshbags,

the dim silhouettes and all the jellyfish that you dimly might have exhaled.

They stand there waiting in an afterworld you’ll have precious little say in.

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 6.6

and demesnes!

I like these definitions of schools of magic: excorporate, contrivance, realm, relation, lore, security, wages

Judi is an Ardorous practitioner, an incarnate practitioner who collects and wields the diffuse Others of attraction, obsession, love, sex, and physicality, transforming certain Others into those of an Ardorous type.  Her Demesne is a home for her Others to reside in when she doesn’t require them.

... so this demesnes is like a sex dungeon, right?

Judi’s situation has changed, as she establishes an ardous pentad that links her to four other practitioners and Others.

one of the polycules of all time I guess

Mimi is an enchantress who navigates a media-focused environment she does not wish to disclose. 

i am choosing to believe she is a tiktok influencer

“My dad always complains about the recipes being buried behind people’s life stories,” Avery said. “It’s sort of the same thing, right? Like, I was looking at the Familiar text last night-” “I was looking and it’s like, ritual’s wayyyy at the back."

At least it didn't give you 22 different exercises to think through

Snowdrop tackled her, human-size, and pinned her arms to her side as she bit into the softer part of Verona’s shoulder where it met her neck.

I'm enjoying Snowdrop wandering around biting people (Verona) during this otherwise serious conversation

“We’d-” Verona started.  Snowdrop leaned on her, full-weight, and she collapsed onto the bed, Snowdrop pressing her down.  “Stop!”

and that Verona is being out-wrestled by an eight year old (I think that's roughly Snowdrop's size in human form)

“How are you losing a fight against a five pound opossum?” Lucy asked.

lol at Lucy immediately saying what I was thinking

Oh wow, Tashlit's backstory is fucked up! And really complicated. If I'm following it right, her grandmother was the divinely-transformed princess and her mother was a giant serpent body-swapped into being a woman (who was also sleeping beauty). Fascinating. I feel like she's the protagonist of her own gritty YA fantasy series.

Matthew made a ‘hmmm’ sound, then went on to say, “I don’t know that I would rely on the practitioners there.  Have you befriended any Others?”

They really haven't tried to make contact with any Others, but I'm not sure how well that would go anyways, considering that Other at the school are almost all someone's familiar. I could see it being taken as a challenge to try and build a relationship with the familiar rather than go through the practitioner.

But we’d ensure the Demesne ritual goes as unchallenged as possible. We’d fight alongside you against anyone who slipped the perimeter and questioned you.

oh that's neat, I hadn't considered that. Claiming a demesne through the help of allies and goodwill of neighbors rather than purely personal strength

“We’ve had our reservations in the past, but connecting you to Kennet and making you stronger is a good thing,” Edith said.

and this is the caveat about demesnes: they tie you to one geographical area pretty strongly (though from the book it looks like you can twist that). Admittedly the girls are already pretty tied to Kennet by their Awakening oaths, but if the Carmine Beast murder gets solved, I could see them being able to leave. Having a demesnes there complicates things.

I’m busy, I have work to do for Alexander, we booked it a long time ago.

:|

“I mean, coworker springs this on him.  Assume he didn’t know, he has to deal with coworker, right?  He has to deal with office politics, and you said he got mad?”

not thrilled about the level of "What are day-to-day issues in adults' working lives" knowledge and justifications Verona is working with here. Thinking back on all the stuff about his worklife problems her dad drops on her

"But part of it, something I know I want, is that I don’t want to stew in anxiety.  I don’t want to freeze when good people are in need." “I tried, at least.  I think no matter what I do, so long as I’m doing that, so long as I’m not going quiet and paralyzing myself with anxiety, I can’t really regret what I’m doing.”

Avery! I am sticking with sweet for my primary descriptor for her, but I can see how brave and noble are working their way in there

But they’d asked for his help, and that grim mood had lingered at first, only to improve until he was smiling by the time he was stepping out of the rain and into the workshop.

young Mr. Sunshine

He sprayed, filling in the void, using the wood as a stencil.  It formed a thick border, edges and lines already worked out.

oh that's clever. I wonder if you could print diagrams like the ones Verona uses? Maybe using a modern printer would fail, but what about woodblock printing?

The entire Arena was depicted around them, but the stuff caught in the coach’s camera was clearest.

huh. Hadn't thought about this before, but this picture was taken like under an hour before the Carmine Beast died in this location. Any chance the Alcazar will show clues?

“Keeping tabs on a few candidates for the local practitionership,” Lucy said.  “Before anything went wrong?  Or did she know?  It’s so weirdly convenient and coincidental that she was here.  Watching us.”

this is what I've been saying! Thank you to Lucy once again for validating my paranoia

They walked over and around, following her gaze.  To the window. To the space beyond the window.

was she watching the Carmine Beast as it died?

“The Carmine Beast dies partway through the game.  Lies there.  Time passes, parking lot empties…” Lucy spoke her thoughts aloud.

shit! I had assumed the Carmine Beast had reached the Arena and died after the game ended, as people were heading out. But during the game... I guess that adds a bit more time to the Others deciding to contact the girls. But still doesn't explain why Miss was there to begin with? Does she just like hockey? Or maybe the reason the Carmine Beast headed to the Arena in the first place was because Miss was there.

Edith, outside and near the bloody body of the Carmine Beast, so soon after the murder. She would have had to leave and come back. But she was here.

welp

But in the end, it was earrings.  The crystals and glimmers they formed using Avery’s photo would decorate the dangling portion, and be decorated further with the blade.  An earring to let Lucy shine, to be proud of her appearance, because both of those things mattered.  A creative working poised around the ear for the girl who loved music. And, perhaps most critically, captured on the last page Lucy had snared, a scene. A distant, captured conversation to adorn the ear of an eavesdropper.

ooooooh, I like that this is returning to things Lucy likes and values about herself, rather than just abilities she's picked up and is good at