#how is that supposed to bring you closer to your lord and savior

[tuesziday]

Hot damn are Greek Orthodox Churches beautiful

#i wanted to look up my old church to see if it had resources for learning greek (it didn't) #and seeing the huge ceiling mural i used to stare at when i got bored felt so nostalgic #then i started seeing pictures of others churches and it's like #this is what a church should look like #why do the evangelicals insist on having boring ass office building churches #how is that supposed to bring you closer to your lord and savior #if I look at your church and confuse it for a paper company in Scranton PA; you have failed as a church #go back to the drawing board and invest in some stained glass windows smh #I'm still an atheist btw #I just expect more from people who make it their life's purpose to shove their religion down everyone's throat

[goldthroughthefire]

Guard Your Heart

Hey everyone! Happy Sunday! Hope everyone is doing well! Wow, it feels like this week flew by! Look at it this way though! We're one day closer to being with our Lord and Savior forever! That's pretty good news in my book! I'm hoping it's good news in yours as well! All we have to do is love God with all our hearts, minds souls and strength and follow Him no matter what life may bring! It's funny though! Today's culture teaches something completely different! What do I mean? Well, have you ever noticed how Disney doesn't tell you to follow God? Almost every Disney movie is about following your heart. Even Disney shows. That's like ones of their biggest mottos. I know it sounds like I have been ripping on Disney the last couple of times and I swear I love Disney! Well, the old Disney. The new Disney is a whole different story. LOL Everything I've said has been true though. You can't name one Princess movie that isn't about following your heart. Children grow up to believe that that's the way it's supposed to be. Nothing can go wrong if you do, right? Unfortunately or fortunately though, it's not true. The Bible, the Word of God, says the heart can be deceitful. You can read it in Jeremiah 7:9-10. If you always listen to your heart, it can lead you down the wrong path. Wait, what? You're probably thinking that makes no sense. Your heart is how you love. True, but ever since the fall in Genesis chapter 3, sin entered the world. Therefore, God's perfect design was corrupted. Only for a little while of course because Jesus is coming back to set everything right. Until then though, sin is in us and will be until Christ's return. That's why we need His Grace and Mercy every day. Ever since sin came into the world, it stems in the heart. Matthew 15:18-19 can confirm that. You can also read Mark 7-20-23. Unfortunately, satan knows that and will do anything he can to get us to believe otherwise. Listen to your heart, trust you feelings, etc. For years, I can definitely say that I never believed my heart could deceive me. I heard the verse before that the heart can be deceitful and I knew it was God's Word, but it never really clicked until recently. Last year, I was talking to this guy. We seemed to connect and I started falling hard. I think he might have loved me too at 1st, although I still question it at times. He seemed to want to try with me and wanted to get to know me. He was always there for me at the beginning. A few months after we met though, things started to change. He was more distant and didn't seem like he wanted to try anymore. He wanted to date other women while dating me. We weren't exclusive at the time, so I thought I could try it. Ladies, whatever you do, do not tell the man you're interested in he can date other women. It will only lead to heartache. I lasted about 3 weeks and I couldn't do it. He even said he was falling in love with me while dating other women, so after about 3 weeks I said it's either me or them. I didn't exactly say it like that, but you get the jist. He chose me at the time. I was ecstatic. We decided to go exclusive. I was on cloud 9. Yeah, that lasted about 3 days. LOL  He broke up with me saying he wasn't ready for a commitment. He wanted an open relationship. I wouldn't have it though. He also wanted to do a couple other things that didn't sit well with me. I was devastated. For a few months though, we kept going back to each other. I thought he would change and he kept messaging me. I was still in love with him after everything that happened. My heart kept telling me to give him chance after chance. The same vicious cycle kept happening though. We would get together or close to it, then he would break up with me or say he wouldn't date me if he couldn't date other women or do things that weren't good for him or us. I would stand my ground at the time, but as soon as he would message again, I would fail back in thinking he changed or would change. Don't get me wrong, our relationship wasn't all bad. He could be amazing at times, but he was just set in his ways that weren't good for either of us. The relationship was just toxic. I think I knew that it was from the beginning and he wasn't the one, but I didn't want it to be true. My heart kept saying give him a chance over and over again, you love him, so this must be it. Every lie you can think of was screaming at me because I was so in love. The heart can do no wrong, right? That still small voice that I kept ignoring though kept saying he isn't the one. It's time to let go. I didn't listen for months though, always turning back. I was following my heart. It took a lot of heartache for me to finally wake up and realize I needed to completely step back. That voice was God telling me this isn't who I have for you. Instead of trusting God though, I was trusting my heart. I finally had an epiphany though. Like ok, that's what it means when it says the heart can deceive and it's definitely true. You would think I would have learned that lesson a few years ago when I dated a psycho. Another story for another time. I'm apparently a very, very slow learner. LOL My point is that the heart can definitely deceive. We need to be careful to not always follow our hearts no matter what society says. If you do, it can lead you down a dark path. God is the only one who knows what's best for us. If something isn't in alignment with God's Word, then you should probably stay away from it. Actually, not probably, definitely. That's why it's so important for us to guard our hearts and stay in the Word. We need to train ourselves, our hearts, everything, to listen to God, trust and obey Him no matter what. Even if we don't understand something, we need to lean on God, not our own understanding. He will make our paths straight. It says so in Proverbs 3:5-6.  How do we do that then? How do we guard our hearts and know when God is talking to us or our hearts are trying to deceive us? By praying continually and staying in the Word daily. Always keep God 1st place and don't make any idols. Don't give in to the desires of your flesh. Keep watch and stand firm in your faith because the enemy is always ready to pounce and deceive you. If you keep God 1st place though and always trust in Him, He will never lead you astray. Whoever has ears, let them hear. Well, I'm out for now friends! Have an amazing week! Until next time!

Lauren

[wondernimbus]

wishful thinking — harry potter

pairing: harry potter x female!reader

request: Hey you know the dancing scene between Harry and Hermione in the deathly hallows part 1? I was wondering if I could request a one shot with Harry but he's dancing with the reader instead, and when they stop dancing Harry confess his love for her and kiss her?? ❤️❤️❤️ It would be awesome if you could do it!

a/n: probably not gonna be able to post as much as i used to since i’m starting an online summer program thing tomorrow :(

It gets overwhelming, sometimes, the whole Boy-Who-Lived business. The only one to ever survive the Killing Curse, the boy who defeated the Dark Lord before he could even walk and talk, savior of the wizarding world—Harry Potter.

Whenever people say his name, they either speak of him as if he's a saint or an annoying teenage boy desperate for attention. It's either he's the slayer of Lord Voldemort or that kid who thinks too highly of himself just because he got lucky enough to not die. He's many different things to many different people depending on which side of the story they heard and who they heard it from.

But Harry is.. well, he's Harry. Just Harry.

And Harry is a boy like any other. Harry doesn't spring up out of bed and start plotting Voldemort's downfall; he's a seventeen-year-old boy who finds joy in things like spending summer days playing Quidditch and joking around with his small circle of friends out by the Hogwarts courtyard just like anyone else. He loves and hurts and hopes and laughs—just like anyone else.

And Harry feels pain, too. Just like anyone else.

But what sets Harry apart from an ordinary teenager is that his eyes have seen far too much death than anyone his age is supposed to. Harry has witnessed it countless of times knowing that some, if not most of them were his fault. He has loved people only to lose them in the end; he has carried the burden of grief on his shoulders for as long as he can remember. And after all of those losses, it's only inevitable that he starts noticing:

Everyone close to him dies. One way or the other.

So when he starts noticing his heart growing too close to her—when he finds his gaze lingering on her far longer than necessary, when images of her smiling face sneak into his head in the dead of night—Harry decides to put a stop to it. He has to, while it's still early.

But feelings like these don't just go away. No matter how hard Harry tries to convince himself that [Y/N] is a friend just like Ron and Hermione and every other, his feelings linger like an echoing noise inside his head that surfaces whenever he lets his guard down; loud and incessant and unwilling to go away.

And so two years pass with him having a tug of war in his head between letting himself succumb to his feelings or pushing them away to protect her. Because really, no matter how much he feels for her, he is scared that one day he will wake up and hear that she has been captured and killed like so many before her, just because she is close to Harry.

He wishes he could be selfish. He wishes he could think to himself that, okay, you've been through a lot and you deserve this—you deserve to love and to be loved, but he can't risk putting her life on the line like that. He has risked far too much and lost too many—he can't add her onto that list.

Except it doesn't get any easier to restrain himself.

Every waking moment he spends with her he is left in disbelief because Harry has never thought that he could feel this happy and this miserable at the same time. Happy because he feels like he's at home and at peace, but miserable because he knows he can never have her.

Harry wonders if he will ever let himself feel love the way it's supposed to be felt someday.

He wonders it now, sitting in silence with her in the tent they've been sharing on the run for quite some time. It's at times like these that everything that has happened to them for the past few months starts to pile up on his shoulders; terror and pain and loss that has been set aside too often but now demands to be felt.

They've run from Snatchers and escaped the clutches of death more times than Harry can count. Each time, he inches ever so closer to losing her, as he has feared for so long. And he feels it now, stronger than ever before—the fear.

He stares at her from a few feet away. [Y/N]'s gaze is fixed on the floor, eyes gazing absently. She looks tired. Her cheeks have gone hollow and there are tiny scars on her face and on her arms that hadn't been there months ago, some fresh and some just beginning to heal. Harry wants to reach out and press his lips to each one of them in turn like this will somehow heal them, one by one.

But instead he sits there, staring, hoping against hope that she can't see the love threatening to burst right out of his chest.

It's the kind of love you hold between your lungs and your ribcage and hope that no one can see it glowing through your skin. The kind that you keep to yourself. The dangerous kind.

But the night is quiet and so are the pair of them. There is a song playing on the radio. [Y/N] and Harry are the only living, breathing souls for miles and miles aside from a rabbit or two, and there are no Snatchers around nor anyone hoping to kill them.

For the first time in a long time, Harry feels like he is allowed to breathe.

So he pushes away all of the burdens resting on his shoulders. He will acknowledge them at a different time. For now, he isn't the boy destined to bring about the Dark Lord's downfall, and for now, he isn't trying to protect anyone. [Y/N] included.

For now, he is just Harry, and there is nothing else in the world but him and [Y/N] and faint music crackling through the radio.

Harry gets to his feet and walks over to her. It takes [Y/N] a brief moment to realize that he is standing in front of her. Once she has snapped herself out of her reverie, she looks up at Harry, who has his hand held out.

"Care for a dance?" Harry asks her, and his voice is quiet but there is a ghost of a weak smile on his lips.

She blinks once. Twice. And then she lets out a long breath, nods, and lets Harry take her hand and pull her to her feet to the middle of the tent.

They are slow, at first. Hesitant. Neither of them quite know what they're doing—Harry definitely doesn't. The practice he received from McGonagall for the Yule Ball all those years ago is of little use, so he finds himself stumbling a little on his feet and repetitively stepping on [Y/N]'s toes by accident. But somewhere along the fifth time he does this, [Y/N] starts laughing—and once she starts, she can't seem to stop. So Harry starts laughing, too. And then he raises her arms and twirls her, over and over, laughing all the while as they dance erratically to the music until she spins back into his arms and stays there, hands on his shoulders, his on her waist as the song fades to a close and the moment of uncontrolled joy vanishes.

[Y/N] rests her head against his, silent.

Harry closes his eyes, waiting for her to pull away but not really wanting her to. As if she has heard him, she stays where she stands. And then, quietly, as though this brief moment of peace will slip away if he speaks too loud, Harry whispers, "What if we just stay here?"

She doesn't respond. Harry knows why—because it's impossible. There are too many people counting on them; too many lives to be saved and too little time. But Harry hopes, anyway, because it brings him even the slightest bit of comfort to envision a world where there is only him and her.

"We can grow old here together," Harry says, voice soft, and his chest aches. There's a lump in his throat and a painful prickling feeling behind his eyes as he keeps going, "We can stay and hide here until the war blows over." He doesn't mean it. But Harry can't quite have what other young boys do—normalcy and love and a life safe at home—so he is at least allowed to imagine. "We can stay and stop trying to find Horcruxes—stop trying to kill You-Know-Who."

"And leave everyone to die," [Y/N] finishes quietly. He both hears and feels her take a deep, shuddery breath; his grip on her waist tightens.

Harry wishes the world was different—or at least his. He never wanted to be famous. He never wanted his parents, nor anyone, to die for him. He wishes he could have grown up with a family he felt safe with, wishes he could have had more than a few months in his mother's arms and that he could take back all of the lives that had been sacrificed for him. And most of all, right in this moment, he wishes with all of his heart that he could love as freely as he wanted without having to worry about the consequences.

But those are just wishes, and nothing in the world can grant them. Not even magic.

Maybe that's why, when he pulls away and leans his forehead against hers, a single tear slips out of Harry's eyes. It's not like he doesn't know; he has known for a long time that some things in life he just can't have. But he's frustrated and desperate and the love in his chest that he has been trying to reign down for so long finally spills out and has him admitting, voice a hushed whisper, "I love you."

And then his lips are on hers, hesitant and slow and gentle, and it feels like finally as much as it feels like I can't do this.

He half-expects her to pull away. But she only moves his lips over his, just as slow. Harry tastes salty tears on his tongue—wonders whose tears they are, his or hers—and then she breaks away a little and replies in a mere whisper into his lips: "I know."

And for now, Harry thinks to himself, that is enough.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oneshots #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x reader #hp oneshots #hp oneshot #hp imagine #hp imagines #hp x reader #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

You targeted my heart...

For the beloved @empress-writes​

Hope you will enjoy the story!

"Q, get me out of here!"

**"This is what I am currently doing, 007!"**

Running down the building, James Bond dodged bullets as he tried to find the exit.

Seriously, he thought this mission in Uzbekistan would be a simple one: all he had to do was to find a file about a Dutch press magnate, retrieve it, and bring it back to England. In short, a piece of cake.

But concretely, nothing went as planned, and he gets caught by two Russian agents who were also after this file.

Once he was outside the building, James ran into the streets, trying to leave his pursuers behind. As he passed near an alley, a hand grabbed him by the collar.

"Come here, you idiot!"

Pinned against a wall, James looked at the main street as his pursuers passed close without noticing him.

Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice saying:

"My, my... Everywhere I go, there is always trouble. And when there is trouble, it means that you're in the area, dear James!"

The British spy turned his head and nearly choked when he recognized his savior:

"(Y/N)?"

"Herself, Mister Bond!" smirked the woman.

007 growled:

"I should have known that you will be here, too!"

"Is that how you thank me? How ungrateful! What happens to the good manners that make British men's reputation?"

James rolled his eyes at the ironic remark: nothing from (Y/N) (L/N) could surprise him anymore. 

Indeed, the American spy was the only person on Earth that could cross swords with the best English spy without a scratch. 

Both played cat and mouse since their first meeting in Paris. 

A game that they would never grow tired to play, even if it implies getting on each other's nerves.

"What are you doing here, (Y/N)?"

"Guess what?"

James sighed.

"You're here for the same reasons, I suppose?"

"Bang on, Mister Bond! And judging by your attempt to beat Usain Bolt's record, I assume that you have found this file?"

"How could you be so sure?"

"Let's just say that I've learned my lesson from Tokyo..."

The blonde man grinned.

"I hope you're still not mad at me..."

The woman has a disdainful air.

"Who do you take me for, uh? A little girl?"

"No, for a very resentful woman."

She shrugged.

"Anyway! I have no time to lose with you: I have unfinished business waiting for me..."

"I thought I was the unfinished business..."

She grinned.

"You wish you were, Mister Bond."

(Y/N) turned around and walked away.

"Have a safe journey home, 007!"

Her attitude puzzled James: usually, she would have fought for taking the file. Now, she did not even mention the coveted object. Something was wrong...

Tired, James decided to go back to England and took the first plane for London. 

Once he sat on his seat, he discreetly opened the file behind a newspaper. The British spy was shocked to discover that the file was empty.

Well, almost empty, as he noticed a small note.

"To win a race, the swiftness of a dart

Availeth not without a timely start."

Think about those words of wisdom from La Fontaine.

Sincerely yours.

(Y/N)

Defeated, James growled of frustration: she outsmarted him, once again.

He did not why, but imagining (Y/N) triumphally smiling at him while saying "Gotcha!" did not annoy him that much. Honestly, he found her pretty cute when she acted sassily. 

Yes, this girl will be the death of him, but no woman can compete with (Y/N) (L/N).

Meanwhile, in another plane, (Y/N) checked the file, grinning. She can picture James's face when he would realize that she beat him to this mission. 

The American spy dreamily smiled as she thought about his icy blue eyes. They perfectly matched his chiseled face... Uh, Lord: why her best frenemy has to be so handsome?

(Y/N) smirked: they will meet again and would resume their little game. She just needed to be patient.

A few months later, in a forest in Colombia.

"Speak, you bitch!"

The contact of the calloused hand with her cheek made (Y/N) hissing with pain. She turned her head and glanced furiously at her jailers.

The American operative cursed herself for being so reckless. She was so eager to catch this gang red-handed that she forgot to be discreet.

And now, she was in a life-threatening situation. This time, she probably won't escape... 

"For the last time, I ask you: Who send you here?" snarled the gangster.

"Your mother!" she snickered.

The gunman grimaced.

"So, you want to play this game? As you wish..."

He took a blowtorch and turned it on.

"Maybe this would help you recovering your memory..."

Trying to untie her ropes, (Y/N) started to panic as she saw the flame coming closer to her face...

"How rude of you to treat a lady this way!"

All stopped on their tracks as they heard a voice coming from nowhere.

As for (Y/N), she recognized this familiar voice: it meant that a charming British spy was not far...

"Show yourself, bastard!" screamed the mobster as his henchmen and he drew their guns.

"If you ask politely..." replied James as he gunned down a gangster.

Taking advantage of the element of surprise, (Y/N) untied her feet and kicked two of the men in the legs, making them fall. 

Then, she broke the ropes that bound her hands and joined the fight. 

While he got rid of two opponents, James glanced at (Y/N) as she furiously knocked out her adversaries. The British spy must admit that the American spy was sexy when she was angry. A real lioness!

"James! Stop checking me out and fight!"

"At your orders!" 

They kept fighting when suddenly, a mobster caught the woman by surprise and pinned her down, strangling her.

Struggling to breathe, (Y/N) kicked the air with her feet, trying to get rid of his iron grip. But she failed, and her vision started to blur.

Luckily for her, James shot the man in the head, saving her from certain death. 

As (Y/N) gasped for air, James rushed to her side.

"You're right?"

"I knew worse..." she grimaced.

The blonde man noticed the bruises on her face. His blood boiled with rage: he should have intervened sooner! How dare they hurt her?

But the priority was to take (Y/N) to a safer place. He carried her in his arms and rushed to his car before driving down to his hotel. Once they arrived, they managed to reach his room without being noticed by the staff.

Then, James gently laid the woman on the mattress before picking his first aid kit and starting to heal her wounds.

"I suppose that I should thank you for saving me..." she whispered.

"Don't bother... Besides, I only return you the favor."

(Y/N) glanced at him with a questioning look.

"The favor?"

"Do you remember when you saved me in Uzbekistan?"

The American woman nodded.

"This time when I save you from the Russian agents?"

"Indeed."

She smirked.

"You bet I remember it... I thought you would be mad at me after my little trick!"

He laughed.

"Not even the slightest. You played well, and I consider it as my retribution for Tokyo!"

They went silent for minutes before (Y/N) dared to ask:

"Why did you save me?"

James slightly bit his lip before answering:

"Well... I could not let you die. Because I would never find someone equal to you."

"I'm flattered."

He came closer to her, their faces apart from inches.

"I meant it, (Y/N). I would find life tedious if you were not here."

"Because I'm just a playmate to you?"

He gave her a small peck on the corner of her lips.

"We can be more than that if you want..."

"Maybe one day..." she replied with a tired smile.

James nodded: duty will come first, no matter what would happen.

"We have all the time in the world..." 

"Will you waiting for me?" the woman whispered as she drifted into sleep.

She barely heard James's answer:

"I will wait, (Y/N)."

A year later, in London.

Walking down the snowy streets, James looked at the peaceful surrounding with a small smile. After several missions around the world, M granted him some days off. 

007 did not complain about it: saying that he was tired would be an understatement.

However, he could not stop thinking about (Y/N): he did not see the American spy since their last encounter in Colombia, and he missed their flirtatious game. James hoped she was doing well...

"Do you miss me, Mister Bond?"

The British spy turned around and smiled when he spotted the young woman sitting next to him, elegantly dressed in a crimson winter coat. She gave him a charming and warm smile.

"I return you the question, Miss (L/N)."

She laughed.

"If it wasn't the case, I would not be here."

The British man chuckled.

"You got the point."

They stayed silent for a few minutes before he muttered:

"I missed you, (Y/N)."

"I missed you too, James." 

(Y/N) questioned:

"If you're still ready... Then, will you be more than a playmate to me?"

A genuine smile came across James's face:

"I am always ready. Especially for you!"

He got up and offered his hand:

"I know a place where we can talk about it... Will you come with me?"

She got up and put her arm around his and replied:

"Let's go, then."

The pair walked to their destination, arm in arm. Suddenly, James heard a small sound coming from his phone. Looking at the screen, he saw a message from Q:

Should I order an engagement ring?

Smirking, Bond texted back before giving all his attention back to (Y/N). They both have all the time to think about it... 

Meanwhile, in his lab, Q worked on his computer when his phone buzzed. Intrigued, he picked his phone and laughed when he saw the reply of 007:

Later, Q. Promise, you will be the first to know...

The quartermaster smirked: (Y/N) and Bond aimed at each other's heart and hit it right on the mark.

Let's see what would happen in the future, even if he hoped the best for the two secret agents...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoy the story: please let me know!

Don’t hesitate to send me requests: it will be a pleasure!

See you later and take care! 😘🥰😍😷

#requests #james bond franchise #james bond #daniel craig #angelina jolie

[frostsong]

9—07: speculate.

rating: T

characters: original characters, douceline de dansereau, archombadin de dzemael, jannequinard de durendaire

tags: polyamory (jannequinard/douceline/archombadin), pre-endwalker

summary: part of her wants to believe she’s not the reason why they’re coming along in the first place. the other part of her wishes for nothing more.

wordcount: 2920

And so it’s come to this.

Douceline, the Warrior of Light, the Savior of Ishgard, the Pillars’ own prodigal daughter—was to be accompanied by not only one, but two scholars of Ishgard: one, a son of the High Houses and current prefect of Saint Endalim’s Scholasticate, Archombadin de Dzemael—and the other, another (thankfully) lesser heir, belonging to House Durendaire, Jannequinard of the Athenaeum Astrologicum.

Neither took no for an answer in spite of her attempts at rebuffing them, and so she eventually conceded, while her fellow scions looked on with varying levels of amusement and exasperation (the latter notably belonging to a certain snow-haired dragoon, arms crossed and back pressed to a pillar while trying to keep the two lalafells at bay with their pestering questions as to what he knew of these two men).

Of course neither man intended to be a hindrance to their cause. Both were fervent in what they could bring to the table. Jannequinard’s was perhaps the most obvious, given his years spent studying (regardless of how productively he’d spent them) in Old Sharlayan, he would be a boon to their group in the know-hows and social etiquette of their destination.

 Archombadin sought to have a more diplomatic role, as one of the best minds the Scholasticate had to offer, and while his role was more subtle in contributing to their efforts, he—and a few vocal individuals in the House of Lords—wished for diplomatic relations between the two nations. Archombadin knew it would be a daunting task, for the Sharlayans chose to be removed from the world stage by policy, if their motto wasn’t enough proof of their stance. But clearly, it was the outsiders that needed to act first in their case—at the very least, some sort of trade or recognition could be had, and no matter how miniscule of a success they would achieve, he was adamant on being there to see it happen.

(Such a speech was one he’d given on three different occasions: one, to himself in his bedroom—two, to his elders at the dinner table—and three, to Douceline and the scions, under the Fortemps gazebo).

And how did she feel about all of this? Douceline divided her time between the Rising Stones and her home city, assisting in whatever ways she could (which were many, and for that her spare time suffered) while fulfilling whatever obligations she had promised on the way back and forth. Who would’ve known that in the approximate week she’d spent away at the Source could leave so much unattended business, so many requests-bordering-on-demands, all awaiting her attention. 

The people that knew her, loved her best, saw her less and less, and whatever chances she had to spend time with them were never enough.

So she supposed that having them with her could be a blessing in disguise. Douceline had revealed to them both the extent of the light’s damage on her body: the way her formerly pure-white scales were now veined in gold, and how that gold crept all the way through to the under-layer of her rose-gold hair. Bared under direct sunlight, Douceline shimmered and she hated it. As if the dragon blood that had been forced upon her years ago, bringing with it the scales and sharp canines had been a foretaste compared to what agony the light’s corruption had been to her. 

And of course they still took her in with open arms (or in Archombadin’s case, a tight squeeze of his gloved hand around her own) and asked of her safety, her well being. For even though she had been home at the moment, both men were smart enough to know not to depend merely on what they saw. After all, she had only been gone for a relatively short amount of time, only to return physically and mentally changed. 

And she answered them, elaborated for them, about the things she couldn’t say abroad, alone, or even amongst her other companions. About how she didn’t know whether or not she was doing the right thing. About whether or not she could do anything to help. 

About how she was actually very, very afraid.

(Part of her wants to believe she’s not the reason why they’re coming along in the first place. The other part of her wishes for nothing more.) 

Douceline raised her head, blinking as the doors of the Scholasticate library were thrown open.

Jannequinard, with his feet at a hurried pace under his alb, bore a widespread grin as he approached the two at the long table. 

“I say, if we’re to work amongst one another, we ought to all meet together in one place.” Dou offered him a soft smile over an open book, while her pale-haired companion grumbled something that most certainly wasn’t on the page he was facing.

“Sorry, Janne—I was just helping Chomby with something.”

“As is your wont, dearest!” The so-called astrologian’s praise caused Archombadin to clench his jaw, irritation spiking another notch higher. He could never comprehend what she saw in him. Insufferable, incompetent and incessantly talkative—at the most, he could only respect the fact that she cared for him. And unfortunately, her feelings were requited in full. 

It takes all the restraint he has not to slam the book shut.

“If you need her for something—” 

“As a matter of fact, I’ll be needing you both.” The Durendaire’s lithe fingers are on the edge of her seat from behind, aiding her to rise from the chair.

The prefect quirked an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Both.” He echoed, feeling the little strength in him seep away as he faced the man in full, grim scowl meeting a widening grin, with Douceline standing befuddled in the middle.

“Both. No time like the present for tea and collaboration.” 

“I said I’d teach you both a thing or two,” Janne lowered his teacup, meeting the matching plate with a delicate clink. 

“because you are both ever so dear to me—and with your well-being comes the well-being of our fellow countrymen!” He took a deep sigh, elated in the apparent righteousness of this odd arrangement all three of them found themselves in. Archombadin tried to focus on his reflection in the tea while Douceline nibbled on a checkerboard cookie, while the bespectacled astrologian continued his monologue:

“And to have you both at my side on my glorious return to the city, is a privilege I wouldn’t dare deny!”

“I’m glad you’ll be there too, Janne.” Dou parted from the lip of her cup with a tender smile, the tenderness evident all the way up to her eyes. 

“I was talking to Alisaie, actually. About what it’s like…” 

“Ask away, dearest! As your escort it’s only my bounden duty to be of service in whatever way I can.” And they carried on, while the fair-haired Dzemael attempted to fill his mind with other things. A handwritten list he was in the middle of finishing for Theomocent and the other prefects to use as a guide in his absence. A mental note to remember what items to forward to his servant to have brought as part of his necessities for their upcoming trip. And of course, whatever there was left to tell Lebrassoir next he visited, even if the door was closed and his former friend’s still turned the opposite direction...

“...but that is mere speculation. Archombadin, my friend, what say you?” 

The man in question blinked back into reality at the mention of his name. “We were talking about whether or not claw jewelry could be weaponized.” Douceline, the savior, elaborates before Jannequinard can guess that he wasn’t paying attention.

“...I suppose.” His brow knit in quiet contemplation, thumb and forefinger once again around the teacup handle.

“Though it would depend how much of a claw it would resemble...there is a difference between aesthetic and functionality.” Being the son of a heritage credited with the foremost skill and resources in developing their city’s architecture, he should know.

“Oh, there’s no need to consider whether or not they're pleasing to the eye!” Jannequinard blinked, as if perplexed at his companion’s assumption.

“They wind the fingers intricately. Like lacework. But with metals--gold and silver, I should imagine. Bronze is much too heavy for something on the fingers, no?”

“But Janne, you can use it as a weapon if they’re sharp enough, right?” Knowing all too well that her lover was prone to wandering off topic, Dou leaned in closer to bring him back to the matter at hand.

“Like the Ixali! Or the Amalj’aa. Or the dragons, even!” 

“Yes, of course! And we all know what damage they--” A screech of wrought iron against stone pavement, and Archombadin’s gaze shifts from the tea to the table in an instant. His eyes widened when he saw Douceline slumped from her chair, hand shielding her face and knees failing, sinking into a circle of rose-red fabric on the cold stone beneath her. Jannequinard stooped to her level first, hand on her back in both a protective and comforting hold, the merriment of his voice falling to a hushed, gentler tone. 

Bending to his knee, Archombadin cursed between clenched teeth--she’d complained of these sudden headaches happening more often, and absurdly requested for him not to worry. He could only guess how worse they had become since her return from that realm, where she claimed that a week in Eorzea felt like months in the place she’d been to. 

“H-here, darling--don’t worry, we’ll take care of you--” Jannequinard hoisted her up, one arm against her back and the other beneath her legs, where her skirts bunched thick and crumpled as he rose to his feet, sending Archombadin a look of what the silver-eyed seminarian could only perceive as badly-masked fear. In any other situation, he would’ve taken it for a sign of weakness--something he could dwell on with smug delight once alone. But now the Dzemael son wouldn’t dare, for he felt that same fear mirrored in the way he shuddered, lips parted in quivering breaths as he followed him back to the Belfry.

He sent a linkpearl message home explaining that he would be delayed.

Now, he and Jannequinard remained in the sitting alcove, not far from the guest room where a house chirurgeon examined the sleeping Douceline. Archombadin couldn’t find it in him to simply sit, though he stood perfectly still compared to the maddening pace at which the other man strode to, back and forth as far as the walls would allow him.

“Fine, fine, she’ll be perfectly fine.” He uttered under a shaky breath, earning him a scowl from his sharp-eyed guest, who remained cross-armed and back to the wall adjacent to the window.

“We have the finest chirurgeons under our employ!” As Janne ran a hand through his slicked red hair, Archombadin knew he could have been arguing with no one but himself. Not that he expected anything else of how Janne would react under pressure.

“...But, who am I to talk?” Jannequinard’s silver hues suddenly weighed with something he hadn’t seen in them before. Remorse? Regret? The Archombadin of the past would be reeling in ill-gained joy at seeing the black sheep of the Durendaires so beaten, so dejected. But now he was genuinely concerned for whatever it could be that ailed him. Not that he was no longer irritated with the man--but seeing Douceline collapse and being able to do nothing but wait behind a closed door for the chirurgeons to do their work left him a tad unsettled, for the lack of a better word.

“...All I can offer is what I’ve seen and done. Nothing by the lectures, or the texts I was given. Astrology is an art that can heal, and yet all I could do was hurry her inside and have someone else do it for me.” Jannequinard’s head felt heavier by burdens of his past failures coming back to haunt him once again, the words of his elders and numerous detractors rearing their ugly heads and bringing back a sting to a wound he long believed was on the mend.

“What if--no, no I can’t--” He stops himself, stumbling into a cold and bitter laughter, his hand finding its way to his forehead.

“...I can’t allow myself to--” Archombadin can do nothing but listen, blinking in confusion and interest at what could be going through the astrologian’s mind at this very moment.

“It’s...the next time. We won’t be here. You know,” Jannequinard licked his lips and swallowed hard, facing the carpet of the floor at their feet.

“...we’ll be in Sharlayan soon. We’ll have our friends, yes--but we’ll have our fair share of enemies, too. Heavens, maybe more of a share than we can chew--not again, no, I can’t-” 

“It’s perfectly understandable to have doubts.” Archombadin tries his best to reassure the man, who looked on edge of a breakdown. And he wasn’t looking forward to carrying him, especially when the man was in his own house.

“We’ll be going somewhere unfamiliar. Maybe to you it is, but we have reason to believe that much has changed since then. Or have you not paid heed to what the scions were discussing the other day?” He couldn’t help himself from falling back onto sarcasm once again, though this time it seemed to work a small bit, as Jannequinard nodded--though it seemed more to reassure himself back into a relatively healthier mindset than it was an answer to Archombadin’s question.

“Yes...yes, you’re right.” A trembling sigh, and though no smile appeared, the light in his eyes was a tad less dimmed than before when he turned to look at his companion.

“I just--I must become stronger. Though I’ve wasted years, it was thanks to the efforts of Douceline and Leveva, along with others that I’ve begun to truly learn and practice to my benefit--and more importantly, to that of others.” 

(With every word he seems to encourage himself, and perhaps that non stop tongue of his can be good for something, Archombadin thinks.)

“The stakes we faced were high. But because we overcame them, we are braver--stronger, because of it. And we’ll need to do even more of those things--and others--in order to face what awaits us in Sharlayan.” 

“I plan to do the same. Am in the middle of it, actually.” Could they really have found a rare plane of common ground? Wonders never cease.

“You use...the tomes, yes?” Janne blinked.

“Yes--amongst other things. But primarily the tomes. Grimoires…”

“I heard something about summoning soulkin. Is that the sort you do?” Archombadin cleared his throat, shoulders relaxing. At least they were on a less emotionally taxing topic...and one he could better contribute to.

And so he did well to explain the main points, starting broad and painfully narrowing to the finer details, enough for the other man to remain on track without going off on a tangent. Both had lost track of time when the door finally opened, and the chirurgeon reassured them of her state. To their relief, Douceline would only need rest and sleep, water and food. 

And of course, someone to make sure she was recovering just fine, though Jannequinard was generous to allow him to stay for the night.

Late into the night, she was yet to awaken.

Changed into sleep clothes, both men lay as borders to her sides: Archombadin on her left and closer to the wall, Jannequinard on the right facing the door. The three flames on the candlelabra flickered feebly as the still-conscious houseguest flipped idly through a borrowed book he’d found on the shelf, though the contents of the text itself dulled with Douceline’s sleeping face ever in his peripheral vision. Archombadin was ever wary of any subtle changes in her condition, and refused to act as the second pair of eyes while Janne had one arm lazily draped atop her waist, eyes half-lidded not from fatigue, but of an odd comfort. Archombadin knew that he must have been awaiting her all this time, as well--before, her visits to Ishgard had been few and far-between, and now they all had the extraordinary chance to finally come along with her. 

Though not from the best of circumstances, this was time he valued.  All three of them, having found mutual agreement and definition of what exactly was between them, could find a source of comfort in one another. Before all this happened, Archombadin could have never imagined himself  in such an arrangement, but he was beginning to see what good could come of it, and what good he could do beyond the roles he’d defined for himself.

When her mouth twitched at the corner, both men’s hearts practically stopped.

One, two, five and ten seconds later, her eyes failed to open; but her mouth opened in a wide, wide ‘o’, breathing a content yawn as she tucked her head back into the pillow, fingers loosely bent against the fabric, the rise and fall of her chest at a steady rate.

Janne gave him a knowing, quiet smile as he shifted closer up against her, but much to the pale-haired heir’s surprise he nudged her closer to where he lay.

“‘Tis not every day.” Short and sweet, for both knew the implication far too well than they’d like to.

With the candles snuffed out, Archombadin allowed his fingers to brush ever so slightly against her own, for sleeping mere ilms away from her face was already more than he could ask for.

#ffxivwrites2021 #eggpens #jannequinard de durendaire #douceline de dansereau #archombadin de dzemael

[justcallmefox89]

Decisions, Decisions

Jax’s time in the Devildom grows short and indecision over their relationship with Beel forces them to turn to Arianthi for help.  A new trick from Diavolo spells trouble for Jax. 

Written from the perspective of my non-binary OC Jax.  Also includes other original characters from my Obey Me - Truth or Dare series.  Takes place in the Truth or Dare AU where Arianthi chooses to be with Mammon,

NSFW: mild makeout and groping

I stretch languidly and burrow deeper under my blankets, cuddling back into the warm body beside me.

“Mmmmm,” Beel mumbles sleepily and snakes an arm around my waist to pull me even closer, curling his large body around mine.

I sigh in contentment as his large, rough hand strokes the bare skin of my hip, pausing at the waistband of my boxers.  I loll my head back against his muscled chest as he presses soft kisses against my neck and tugs softly at my boxers, silently asking for permission.

“Yes,” I answer in a hoarse whisper.  Beel gives a deep rumbled of satisfaction as his hand dips below my waistband and he softly strokes me, my cock growing even harder in his hand.  I slink one hand behind me and bury it in his feather soft hair, tugging gently.  His thumb rubs delicately over the barbell of my frenum piercing and I shudder in pleasure.

“Jax.....” Beel lets out a breathy moan and I feel his hard cock press insistently against my ass.  He rolls his hips against mine urgently in an unasked question as he gently starts to tug down my boxers.

I suck in a deep breath and immediately go rigid in his arms.  “Belphie....” I manage to croak out.

“He slept in the planetarium last night,” Beel whispers, nipping at my neck before soothing it with a slow swipe of his tongue.

“Beel........ I....” 

He slowly removes his hand from my boxers and drops a quick kiss on the top of my head before rolling onto his back with a soft huff.  I mimic him, swiping roughly at the angry tears the fill my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, unable to look at him.

Beel turns his head and frowns at me.  “No.”

“No?”  I squeak out in surprise.

He reaches for my hands, interlacing his fingers with mine.  “You never have to apologize for telling me no.”

Beel raises my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles.

“Nothing happens without you wanting it.  That’s never going to change.  Ever.  So don’t apologize for taking care of yourself.

“Thanks Beel,” I murmur, squeezing his hand.  

“You don’t have to thank me either, Cupcake,” he answers quietly.  “You deserve to be treated like precious treasure.  Because you are.”

He slowly sits up and gives a large stretch.  “We need to start getting ready.”

“But first,” Beel shoots me a cheeky grin, “I am going to take a very long shower.”

I laugh and throw a pillow at him as he makes his way to the bathroom.

A few hours later I walk across the R.A.D. campus, holding a bag of B.L.T. devil sandwiches, and looking for Beel.  Suddenly a small body barrels into mine and a pair of arms wrap tightly around my waist.  

“Ohmygod Jax hi!  I’m so happy to finally meet you!”  

“I am very uncomfortable right now.”  I stare down in shock at the blonde girl clinging to me.

She lets out a high pitched giggle and shakes her head, blonde curls bouncing against her flushed cheeks.  “He said you were funny!  We’re going to be so close while we’re here, I can already tell.”

“Please stop touching me.”  I try to gently extract myself from her grip on my jacket and frantically scan the quad for Beel.

“Oh I forgot, I’m Chloe!  I’m the new human exchange student.  I just got here and found you right away!  Diavolo said you would show me around.”  She gives me an uncomfortably wide grin.

“I’m not a tour guide.”  I put a hand on her shoulder and give her a small push.

She keeps a hand on the hem of my jacket and pouts.  “But Lord Diavolo said you would.”

A hand suddenly snatches the back of Chloe’s shirt and roughly yanks her away from me.  I stumble a little as she finally lets go of my jacket.

Chloe recovers her balance and whips around to glare at my savior. 

Arianthi stares back at her impassively, arms crossed over her chest.  She’s wearing Mammon’s leather jacket, jeans, and a pair of his sunglasses.  It’s been a month since she left for the human realm with Mammon, and she seems more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her, despite her clear annoyance at the current situation.

“Tell Diavolo if you want,” Arianthi replies with a lazy shrug.  “You’re not supposed to be here anyway, and when I get done talking to him you’re gonna be in the first portal back to the human realm.” 

Chloe’s mouth drops open.  “Just because I hugged him?”

Arianthi’s eyes narrow.  “Jax told you to stop touching them.  When they tell you something you need to listen to them.  You’re going back because you’re not supposed to be here; I signed you rejection letters myself, Chloe.”

“Oh, now I know who you are!  Diavolo told me about you.”  Chloe gives Arianthi a snide grin.  

I slowly start to edge away from the two women.

“Fantastic, then you already know that I make the decisions when it comes to exchange students.  We’re going to speak to Diavolo and clear up this extremely unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“But--” Chloe starts to protest.

“Diavolo’s.  Office.  Now.”  Arianthi spits out the command through gritted teeth.

Chloe opens her mouth in shock, then snaps it closed before turning on her heel and starting to walk away.

“So, um, I’ll just be heading out now.”  I shuffle side to side awkwardly while Arianthi glares at Chloe’s retreating form.

She turns to me with a gentle smile.  “Sorry, this wasn’t how I wanted us to spend my first day back home.”

“It’s fine.  I’m just really glad your back.”  I return her smile, then hold up my bag of food.  “I need to go find Beel though so....”

Arianthi shakes her head.  “Go on.  I’ll see you tonight at dinner.  Hopefully.  Diavolo and I are going to have a very long conversation about how he handled the human exchange students while I was gone.”

With that ominous statement Arianthi stalks off in the direction of the administration building.

I find Beel a few minutes later, on his way to Fangol practice.

“Hey Big Guy,” I say, hugging him from behind.  “Brought you something to eat before practice.”  I press the takeout bag into his hands.

Beel gives me a dazzling smile.  “You didn’t have to do that.”

I shrug shyly.  “I wanted to.”

Beel pulls me close to his chest and brushes a soft kiss to my lips.  “Thank you Jax.”

He holds me for a moment longer, until his teammates start calling for him.  I push against his chest.  “You better get going Beel.  You’ll want enough time to eat before you start practice.”

“See you at home.”  Beel grins at me one more time before jogging off towards the colosseum.  

I give him a half hearted wave and trudge towards my spell work class.

Three classes and two and a half hours later I wander into the R.A.D. cafeteria, where I spot Arianthi sitting alone at a table, shuffling through a mountain of paperwork.  I debate going over to talk to her as I buy a sandwich and a drink.

Ugh.  God, just quit being a little bitch and ask her.  She’ll understand it better than anyone else here.

I wander over to her table and clear my throat to get her attention.  “Mind if I keep you company?”

She looks up at me slowly, then kicks out the chair across from her before turning back to the papers in front of her.

“So, what was up with the girl from earlier?” I ask, as I pick apart my sandwich and remove the tomatoes.  

Arianthi heaves an irritated sigh.  “She’s been denied admittance to the exchange program three times.  She’s not a good fit for the program, but since I was gone Diavolo personally approved her fourth application.”

Satisfied that my sandwich is now tomato free, I press the two halves back together and take my first bite.  “How come you denied her all those other times?” I mumble.

Another irritated sigh.  “She a pact chaser.”

“Mmmph?”  I quirk an eyebrow at Arianthi as chew.

“She doesn’t care about the program, or experiencing life down here.  She just wants to make pacts, to bring demons under her control.  She got some romanticized idea of what it would be like, with no idea how sacred a pact really is.  She just wants a supernatural boyfriend.  Demons don’t need to be under the potential control of someone that uneducated and irresponsible.”  

I take a sip of my drink.  “Don’t you have pacts with Mammon and all his brothers?”

“Yeah, but those are pacts I earned or that were offered to me.  And I can count on one hand the times I’ve actually used them.”

“Did you get Diavolo to send her back?”

Arianthi scowls.  “Apparently our lord and ruler has no issues with her reasons for wanting to be here.  So we’re stuck with her for now.”

I remember the way Chloe latched onto me.  “Great,” I sigh.

“Stay close to me and the boys and you’ll be fine.”  Arianthi scrubs her hands over her face.  “I don’t know why I’m surprised Diavolo won’t listen to me.  I knew things wouldn’t be good once he found out about me and Mammon getting married.”

“So, how’s that going?”  I ask, in an attempt to transition the subject towards the thing I really wanted to talk about.

“Being married?”  She smiles to herself.  “Mammon is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“So you don’t regret it?  Staying here I mean?”  My words come out in a rush.

“No.”  She gives me a quizzical look,  “Why would I?”

I shrug and take another sip of my drink.  “It’s just.....I mean...you gave up a lot to stay here with him right?”

Arianthi leans back in her chair and crosses her arms.  “Why do I get the feeling this is about more than my happy relationship?”

“Just some stuff with Beel has me thinking,” I answer quietly, picking at my cuticles and avoiding her eyes.

“What stuff with Beel?”  Mammon asks as he sits down next to Arianthi and slings one arm around her shoulders.

“Nothing!”  The response comes out louder and quicker than I intended it to.

“Well, that’s just a big, fat lie.”  Mammon frowns at me.

Arianthi elbows him in the side.  “Knock it off.”

I glance between the two for a moment, thinking.  “I don’t know what to do about Beel,” I finally say.

“What do you mean?”  Mammon narrows his eyes at me suspiciously.

“I like him,” I whisper.  “Like, really like him.”

“Ah,” Arianthi says in understanding, while Mammon just looks confused.

“I’m leaving in a few months, and I hate even thinking about it.  But then I think about not going home again, and I hate the thought of that too.”

“You could always visit home, like Ari does,” Mammon offers up a suggestion.

I anxiously fiddle with my lip ring.  “My dad will be so sad if I stayed down here, and I’d have to lie to him about where am at and I’d feel like such an asshole for doing it, but I think Beel could be worth it.  Beel hasn’t said for sure how he feels about me staying or not.  I mean, he’s hinted at it......but he hasn’t said for sure.  I know he likes me, and I know he wants to be closer, you know physically, but....  Ugh!” 

I drop my head on the table with a loud thunk.

“Wait, you mean you haven’t....?” Mammon asks, in shock.  “But he said you guys have been staying in each other’s rooms every night!”

“Mammon!”  Arianthi hisses at him in disapproval as I shake my head.

“How come?”  Mammon asks, genuinely curious.

“Oh my god Mammon, you can’t ask people questions like that!  It’s personal!  Plus it’s not like we were quick to get to that stage either,” Arianthi scolds him.

“Have you ever even, you know, done ‘the thing’?”  Mammon asks another question.

Arianthi stares at him, her drink frozen halfway to her lips.  “Did you really just refer to sex ‘the thing’?”

The tips of Mammon’s ears turn bright red.

“Promise me that when we have children you will never, ever attempt to give them the sex talk.”  

Mammon frowns at her.

“If you must know Mammon, yes I have done ‘the thing’.  Just not with Beel.”  I scowl at him.  “It means a lot, when I chose to be with someone like that.  I feel that way about him, but I’m afraid I won’t want to go back home if I go all in with Beel.”

Arianthi sighs.  “This really sounds like something you just need to talk to Beel about.  You two need to get on the same page about what you want from each other.  Either make a clean break or go all in.  This in-between place you’re in will just end up hurting you both.”

“Yeah.”  I forlornly pick at the remains of my sandwich.  

“Hey.”  Arianthi reaches over and taps my knuckles with her index finger.  “For what it’s worth, I’ve never regretted a second of my time here.  Staying with Mammon is the best decision I’ve ever made.”

I nod at her as she and Mammon stand up and gather their things.  I wave at them as the walk away from the table, then go back to picking apart my lunch.  A large hand comes down on my shoulder and I give a sudden squeak of surprise.

I turn to see Mammon standing behind me.  “Jesus, Mammon!”

“Look, Beel cares about you.  A lot,” he says softly, keeping his hand on my shoulder.

I smile, glad to know I’m not alone in my feelings.

Mammon’s hand tightens on my shoulder, and I can feel his fingernails prick my skin through the thin fabric of my t-shirt.

“Beel is the best one out of all of us.  He always has been.”  Mammon’s voice drops low and threatening.  “Do not hurt my little brother.  Get your shit together or get out.”

Mammon steps away from me and gives me a bright smile.  “See you at home!”

“See you,”  I shakily say to his back, watching him walk away as I rub my sore shoulder.

I take out my D.D.D. and text Beel to meet me in my room as soon as he gets home.

A few hours later I’m sitting on my bed, absentmindedly twirling a pencil between my fingers, a blank sketchpad on my lap, when Beel comes bounding in.

“Hey, Cupcake,” he says, smiling and flopping down on the mattress next to me.

“Hey, Big Guy.”   I gently run my fingers through his silky orange hair.

He reaches out and softly tugs away my sketchpad and pencil, tossing them onto the floor.  “Why don’t you put those away for a bit?” He growls, nuzzling into my neck.

I huff out a low laugh as his lips and tongue trace a ticklish path over the tender skin of my neck.   I slowly pull back from him, and take both his hands in mine, silently marveling at how much larger they are than my own.

My eyes roam over Beel’s face, taking in every detail, from the soft slope of his nose, to the curve of his full lips, and the strong outline of his jaw.  My gaze eventually settles as I look into the violet eyes that have captivated me since my very first day in the Devildom.

I take a deep breath.  “Beelzebub, we need to talk.”

#artist in the devildom series #jax monteiro #obey me! #obey me #obey me! one master to rule them all #obey me one master to rule them all #otome obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #Obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #truth or dare series #obey me fandom #obey me fanfic #obey me short fic #obey me short story #obey me beel x reader #obey me beel x mc #obey me beel x oc #obey me beelzebub x oc #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me beelzebub x mc

[lawnierose]

Harry was staring up at the ceiling in his tiny bedroom. This summer after the Tournament had been one of the worst with the Dursleys. Right at the end of the Tournament he had been kidnapped by Voldemort and used in a ritual to bring the Dark Lord back. In his attempt to escape he had been hit with an Avada. Instead of killing him it had apparently killed some aspect of Tom’s soul that had been attached to his own. When he saw his parents in the weird “in between” place, they told him it was a Horcrux. When he woke up, Tom and his followers had been taken by surprise allowing him to reach the cup and Portkey back. Dumbledore had still sent him back to his awful relatives, who proceeded to beat him and starve him worse than ever.

He was lucky for his hidden stash under the floorboard. Otherwise he would have died of starvation this time. He was lucky the twins were sending him packages. They were the only ones sending him mail this summer. According to them, it seemed Dumbledore had told everyone not to send him letters or anything else. Luckily, this had caused the twins to lose faith in the meddlesome old bastard. Harry had a running list in his mind of everyone who was going to pay. Vernon and Dudley for the constant abuse. Petunia for the neglect, and for turning a blind eye when Vernon took Harry into the special room in the basement. Dumbledore had lost his little weapon, that much was for sure. Harry wanted to ruin the man before killing him.

Of the Weasley’s, he knew the twins were with him as was Charlie. He wasn’t sure about Bill yet. The rest could go fuck themselves, including Ron. As for the rest at school, he had Hermione, Neville, and Luna. No one else believed him about Voldemort coming back, and Dumbledore had thrown him under the bus to the ministry to save face. So Harry lay there, his 15th birthday ticking closer. He stared at the tempus he had wandlessly cast and held, trying to ignore the pain from today’s Harry Hunting adventure. He watched as the time rolled over from 11:59 to midnight. He barely got a wish out, just wanting to be able to be who he wanted to be. Suddenly, pain flared through his whole body and the world went dark as he slipped into unconsciousness.

He was awoken several hours later by a pounding on his door. “Freak, where’s our breakfast, how dare you have a lie in. I’m coming in there.” Harry popped up quickly, reaching for his glasses. His hair seemed to graze his neck and as he ran his hands through it, it was smooth and silky and had grown several inches. “What the bloody hell” he thought. He tried to scramble from the bed but was tangled in the threadbare sheet he was given. Vernon burst through the door just as Harry was standing up. His uncle’s eyes were filled with shock and rage as he stared at the other person in the room. “What the fuck freak? You couldn’t keep yourself from getting any freakier could you.” Harry looked down for the first time. It seems he had shrunk despite already being small. This had caused the huge t-shirt from Dudley to slip off a shoulder, exposing a small breast. Harry could see a matching one under the shirt as well. Eyes widening in terror, Harry realised he had a pussy as well. He jumped back as his uncle screamed at him. Vernon was leering at him and Harry began to quake in fear. “Seems you need time in the special room today girl. Come here!” With that, Vernon grabbed the young child by a fistful of hair and began dragging her through the house.

~A.L.A.H.P.~

Later that evening, a lone figure was looking upon the house at Number 4, Privet Drive. Feeling very much himself, more so than he had in decades, Tom Riddle, commonly called Voldemort or Dark Lord, stared as he watched the three muggles pile into some sort of muggle transportation with trunks and take off. “This is where the Light kept their so called Savior. With muggles of all things.” It had taken months before he was able to come find the boy. First, he had to deal with the results of Pettigrew botching the potion for the ritual. He was supposed to come out looking like his former self. Once back, he did realise that a large amount of his sanity had returned to him. He realised he was a fool to have split his soul as he had. As soon as he had done it the first time, all of his plans began to take a more violent and insane approach. He quickly gathered his Horcruxes and performed a ritual to restore his soul and even more of his sanity. Then it was time to hunt down the boy. It was just random good luck that the one tracking spell had hit the boy. Once he was sure he was alone, he stretched out with his magic to check the wards on the house. He stepped back in shock to find nothing of the sort on the building. Cautiously, he slipped forward.

Nothing, absolutely nothing was keeping him out. Stretching out he felt darkness in the house. It first led him to a small door under the stairs. It reeked with darkness as he pulled it open. Absently he realised the door could only be opened from the outside. Inside he found a school trunk. Then his eyes caught something written on the wall. “Harry’s Room” was written on the wall in what could only be blood. Shocked he looked around, finding a few broken toys and a crib mattress tucked away. Tom tried not to let his thoughts go where the evidence was pointing. No he could not pity the boy. He was here to finish what he started. Yes, he was sane again, and he should have never listened to that half a prophecy to begin with, but he had made it true by marking the boy. He couldn’t stop now. He quietly shut the door and moved up the stairs until he came to a door with seven padlocks on it and a pet flap at the bottom of it. He could practically see the darkness seeping out under the door. It was far heavier here and for once Voldemort was terrified to open a door. Steeling himself and waving a hand he proceeded to unlock all the locks and open the door. His eyes fell immediately upon the tiny bed in one corner. There stripped naked, limbs bent at entirely wrong angles, and wounds bleeding so much the bed was tinted red, was a young girl looking barely twelve. Glancing up the famous scar was still on her forehead. He needed answers, ones he would not get if she died. He pulled his wand and placed it to the mark on his own arm, calling to a very specific follower.

~A.L.A.H.P.~

Severus was lounging in his study at Hogwarts. It was just before bed and he was reading the newest potion journal and sipping on firewhiskey. He had his own research published in this issue, under a false name of course. This was why he loved summer. No students, and he could work on his research and even produce new formulae to patent. He was far wealthier than anyone knew thanks to several medical formulae he had perfected. He had just picked his tumbler up when a searing pain lanced through his left arm. He dropped the tumbler, cursing as he quickly threw on more appropriate robes and hurried out to the edge of Hogwarts’ wards. He quickly apparated straight to his lord and fell to his knees as soon as he arrived. “Get up Severus there is no time for this. I hope you brought potions or have access.” His head snapped up hearing emotions in the Dark Lord’s voice he never thought possible. Glancing around he realised he was in a tiny room in a place he did not recognise. “What was that smell? He wondered. “Move it Severus, Harry Potter is dying and not by my hand.” Severus’s head whipped up to stare at his master’s face only to find it staring elsewhere. He followed the glance until he beheld the sight on the bed. “This is a girl my lord.”

“Severus be glad I need you or I would be cursing your incompetence right now. Look at the scar. I don’t know how, but Harry is now the girl-who-lived and I would know why she changed and why she is dying.” Suddenly, both men froze as the girl coughed harshly, blood spraying from her mouth. Lily’s green eyes stared back at them barely focused. “T-tom, here to kill me. Just end it please!” Both men were shocked, but Severus was pushed to action as the girl's body went completely limp. He was pulling potion after potion out of his robe, which had a special pocket linked directly to his private stores. “My lord, I will do what I can but even a cursory glance tells me there are injuries here beyond my skills. We need to get the girl to Narcissa. Her healer training far outweighs my own.” Tom merely nodded and let Severus work. Severus eventually informed him he had done what he could and Tom scooped the girl up in his arms. He marvelled at how light she was and tried not to let his rage blind him. With that he Apparated directly to his room in Malfoy Manor, Severus right on his heels. “Tinky!” he yelled out. As the house elf appeared he was already giving instructions. “Go get Lady Malfoy and bring her here immediately.” With a pop the elf was gone and he laid the girl on his own bed. There was a pop and a shriek behind him. “Unhand me you loathsome...Oh my Lord, what is requested of me?” The Lady Malfoy was attempting to look less ruffled as she bowed. Suddenly, her eyes alighted on the bed and noticed the famous scar on a very female body. “My Lord, Severus, what has happened?” Tom spoke up, swallowing his anger. “All will be talked about, after we save her life. Severus did what he could.”

It took well into the morning, but finally Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief. “She is out of the worst of the danger my Lord. There is much yet to be done to bring her to full health and she should really see the Goblins to find out the extent of what has been done. I cannot tell if her magic changed her to look this way or if this is her original form and she was held under some sort of potion or spell.”

#hp fanfic #harry potter #tomarry #genderswap #first chapter #wip

[efrmellifer]

Eternal Devotion

I still think Squeenix would be so rich it’d be like printing their own money if they let us marry NPCs

Aymeric hadn’t known how to bring it up when Etien had greeted him at the door, so now he had this fact, this funny little anecdote, to share with her just hidden under his tongue.

But it didn’t dissolve; it burned there, waiting for him to spit it out and tell her.

And yet, he was nervous to. There were so few things he had ever hesitated to tell her—perhaps that he loved her, at first. But that was only for the sake of Ishgard. She was a busy woman, and the last thing she had needed to be dealing with when she was flying off for Azys Lla was carrying around the feelings of the Lord Commander whom she barely even saw.

Hells, he would have expected her to have fallen for Estinien at that rate—well, she had, but he meant to the exclusion of himself.

In any event. That had been more about Aymeric denying himself the relief of sharing the burden of his feelings, for the betterment of his nation and the well-being of its savior. This, on the other hand, was intimately personal.

And frankly, all the more frustrating because of it.

“Etien?” he said finally, placing aside his fork and clearing his throat while he waited.

She looked up, letting her wrist hang limp, then putting down her fork and knife as well. She took a sip of water, then looked him in the eyes, eyebrows lifted. “Yes?”

“I had a—ahem. I came across something of an unfortunate discovery while I was consulting with the Sultana and the Elder Seedseer today.”

Etien tipped her head. “Just them? So Merlwyb didn’t attend your meeting?”

“No, she was attempting to handle part of the very problem we were butting up against.”

“Interesting. And what problem was such that it seemingly stumped the Alliance’s leaders?” She paused. “Or, well, I assume it did.”

“You would be correct, loath though I am to admit it.”

Etien scooted her chair closer to the table, leaning in. “Ooh, that’s even more intriguing.”

“Well, I doubt you’ll like it when I actually reveal the issue—the Alliance hasn’t been properly processing incoming paperwork.”

She sat back, sighing. “More paper-pushing?” Her expression shifted to mild shock as a realization came over her. “Wait. Aymeric. You didn’t agree to take on more, did you?”

“No.” Still, he looked away, swirling his wine before bringing it to his lips.

When he put the goblet down, it was to see Etien with her hands folded below her chin, supporting her re-tilted head. He could practically see the halo of innocent ignorance floating there between her perked ears.

So Aymeric heaved a sigh and told her. “Most of the paperwork that was improperly run through and promptly mislaid was coming from Ishgard and Ala Mhigo. We were still too new to the alliance to add more to the workloads of those poor scribes, but after the victorious Ala Mhigan liberation, then the loss of the Scions and then the battles with Garlemald… things slipped into the cracks and disappeared.”

“Oh no,” she murmured, listening intently now.

“It gets worse. Do you remember what events happened between the removal of Imperial forces from the Ala Mhigan Quarter and the fighting at Ghimlyt?”

She counted on her fingers. “There was the drowned city, we had the wedding and our honeymoon, there were all those meetings with Hien to get Doma involved with us again, Thancred fainted, I explored the Burn and Gaius showed up with Alphinaud… yes? Why?”

“Well, we still have our Ishgardian marriage certificate, at least.”

Etien’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, no. That’s not funny.”

“If I were telling you a joke, it would be,” Aymeric replied, taking up his fork again.

“Are we not married?” she hissed, whispering as if it were going to start a scandal.

“We are. But Greater Eorzea has no record of it.” He took another sip of wine.

“Other than the hearsay,” Etien snorted. “Among other bits of physical evidence.”

That got Aymeric to laugh, and so they sat in shocked, giggling quiet for a long while.

Finally, the silence was broken with a question. Etien wasn’t usually the one to ask it—normally, she was the one having to enact whatever the answer was, but this time she would ask it and be part of its solution.

“So what do we do now?”

“Well,” it came light and airy, “one of us could marry Estinien, and we can effectively commit legal bigamy. But that would hardly be fair to whichever of us got left without an extra spouse. So I suppose our course is clear: we get married a third time. That is, of course, unless you’ve changed your mind and won’t have me?”

From the moment had Aymeric said that, a softness came into Etien’s eyes. It was hard to read at first, but he’d been looking at her for a while now in their shared life (he enjoyed it, in fact), and he managed to sift through the layers with a little extra looking. There was a sort of sadness—he could almost hear the teary huff, the very idea, that after I’ve loved you so long, I could even think of backing out—and there was a touch of mirth. It was funny, he knew it. And there was one more very clear element to it, one that was easy to pick out because of how often he saw it. Love. There was so much love in Etien’s expression that he could have drowned in it.

But he didn’t have time to drown, nor even to swim, because then she spoke.

“If you’ll have a silly little bard for a bride, I’ll have you for my bridegroom even if we have to do this a thousand times.”

Aymeric rose from the table, their dinner utterly abandoned with the advent of this piece of news, and came to Etien’s chair.

“A thousand is a little excessive. It does get expensive after a while.”

She giggled, her hand lifting to cover her mouth.

He took it, kissing just past her fingernails. “Marry me, Etien Felis Regina Mellifer. Again.”

“I will.”

“What a pity I didn’t have a ring the first time I proposed, and I certainly didn’t prepare another one for this occasion.”

With minimal struggling, Etien removed the chain from around her neck, slipping her wedding ring off the end. For a second, they both looked at the glint of the silver and the sapphire in the firelight, then, she handed it over. “We only need the one.”

He slid it onto her finger, and it fit just as naturally as it had the first time it had been placed there.

“I swear, it could have been made for you,” Aymeric mused as they admired the ring in its place for a moment.

Etien put it back on the chain and around her neck again, settled with a locket from Estinien, a purple shell charm, and her mark of Llymlaen. “As long as it’s found its place.” She took hold of his shirt to bring him closer. “Can I kiss you?”

“I would be more than a little upset if you didn’t.”

“Well, we simply can’t have that,” she purred, smiling against his lips as they met hers.

_

In much an echo of the first time, they made their way to the Sanctum of the Twelve with Artoirel and Lucia in tow to witness the second affirmation of their union.

Of course, the Elder Seedseer came along, too, to make sure that the paperwork went directly to be filed, for a whole host of reasons ranging from Alliance leadership needing to set an example to the Sanctum gearing up for a busy season as spring started to wash over the Black Shroud.

Aiming for some degree of accuracy to the usual protocol, Etien had acquired a gown in a starkly white hue—and only white, missing the accents of pink and black that had been part of her other wedding dress. Aymeric wore the same tuxedo he had before, and looked just as good in it a second time.

It was a short ceremony, with no one there to throw flowers, open sparkling wine (not that the bride could have had any anyway), or cry into their handkerchief. And so they were ushered out into the bright day in what felt like less than a bell.

Before they could mount the chocobo waiting for them—but after Etien’s shout of recognition, being able to call the bird by name—he pulled her close.

“It’s a shame that I never get to do this until we make it outside.”

“Do what?” she asked, blinking up at him.

“Brace yourself.”

She gripped his shoulders, and he dipped her low for a kiss. “That. I’ve wanted to since the ceremony was coming to its end.”

“The kiss makes it official?” she asked as he helped her up and onto their mount (Vittelina, Etien had cried).

“Official, no. Complete, I think so,” he added as he settled onto the saddle.

She kissed him again as Vittelina began plodding forward. “I wholeheartedly agree. You should do that more often.”

“I fear I’d make you dizzy.”

“Your kisses certainly can have that effect.”

“Etien,” he scoffed.

“Aymeric,” she cooed. “Darling husband, thrice over.”

His feigned offense at the joke melted completely. He laid his hand over hers on the saddle. “My dearest wife.”

#Aytien #fic #okay before you judge me I did this for three reasons: #1. I think the 'oops we aren't actually married' trope is funny #2. I really like weddings actually. and writing Aytien fluff #3. I got to reference their proposals from so long ago #I thought it was cute and indulgled myself a lottle #I hope you enjoy too c:

[the-broken-truth]

My Magical Raven

Prompt: The Witch Queen has been slain but the powerful magic within her corpse has lashed out and sought out a new suitable vessel - The One Who Slain Her, Anastasia (MC). 

Pairing: Altea Bellerose x Anastasia (MC)

The war was finally over. 

The Witch Queen laid dead at the base of her throne with the tip of Anastasia's Sword still lodged deep within her chest, her blood staining the length of the blade, and the champion that struck her down, forever ending the nightmare held the handle of the sword. Grey eyes glared into the white lifeless eyes of the Evil Queen that bore her face and used her as an incubator for her restoration and hurt those she cared for; those eyes belonged to Anastasia, the Hero of Wolfson Castle.

Anastasia closed her eyes as she exhaled, letting her body slump over with her sword acting as a crutch to keep her on her feet. She looked in the direction of the people who have been with her the entire way.

Her comrades.

Her friends.

Her family.

Lord of Wolfson Castle - Reiner Wolfson.

Loyal Knight of Castle Wolfson - August Falke

Prince of the Elven Kingdom - Iseul Idreis

Last of his kind of the Demon Race - Saerys

And there was her.

The Former Princess of the Throne of Eclaciel, The Main Magician of the Retainers, and the love of Anastasia's Life: Altea Bellerose. 

"You did it, My Raven! You've slain the Witch Queen!" Altea cheered as she ran over to her lover in a blur of pink, latching on to her with a smile, snuggling into Anastasia's Neck. Anastasia took her hand off the sword and used it to lift Altea's head upward by lifting her chin.

"We did it, My Magical Girl." Anastasia smiled as she pressed her lips against Altea's, who just moaned, wrapping her around her neck to deepen the kiss.

"Alright. Alright. Enough of the mushy stuff! Save it for when we get back to the castle." August groaned as he folded his arms, glaring at the lovebirds, who just chuckled and smiled.

"Ah, you mad, August?" Anastasia teased, her spouse chuckling.

"Alright, everyone. Let's get back to the castle. Tonight, we celebrate!" Reiner smiled. Everyone nodded in agreement. Anastasia looked at Altea with on hand wrapped around her waist before looking at her sword, grabbing it by the handle and pulled it free; blood dripped from the blood...and that wasn't all. 

A shot of blue light came shooting from the opening in the Witch Queen's Body with a raging wind that blew back the hair of everyone in the throne room. Anastasia and Altea looked at what it was and their jaws dropped: It was magic. Magic in the purest form without being made into a spell, but not just any magic - this was the Witch Queen's Magic.

The Serpent-Shaped Magic swayed from the opening of its' former wielder's body before it shot forward in the direction of Altea and Anastasia! 

"Altea!" Anastasia yelled as she pulled her lover behind her in an attempt to shield her from the rouge magic' only for the magic to stab her in the chest, sending her flying across the room, crashing into the wall and slumped over the floor.

"Anastasia/My Raven!" The Retainers and Altea called out in horror as they watched the Witch Queen's Magic snake its' way into the opening in Anastasia's Chestplate and the wound in her chest.

"Ngh...Ngh...Gah..." Anastasia groaned out as her body curled in a fetal position, shaking as the magic-filled her blood and bones; taking root within her very soul. "Cold...So...Cold." She whimpered out. 

"Altea! What's going on?!" Lord Wolfson asked his Head Magician in concern for his champion. Altea lifted her hand and her magical emblem appeared in the palm of her hand, scanning the Champion as she shivered on the ground in pain; growling and groaning in pain, white and blue sparks of magic flashed in the form of cracks of lightning around Anastasia.

"I...I'm not sure, Lord Wolfson. I've never seen anything like this." Altea never took her eyes off her raven, who was sweating and wiggling in pain.

"Let's try to get her to the castle, maybe someone there can tell us what is going on." August offered.

"No need." A familiar feminine voice called out from the main doors of the throne room, everyone turning to see the only serving general...well...former general...of the Witch Queen walking in their direction: The Sorceress, Helena Klein. 

"What? Do you know what going on with Anastasia, Klein?" August asked with his sword drawn in Helena's direction; while she renounced the name of the Witch Queen, he still didn't completely feel safe around her.

"When the Witch Queen was slain, her magic detached itself from the dying vessel to a more suitable one worthy of holding such power." Helena gave a light smirk as she glanced down at the shriveling carbon copy of her former mistress, Altea blocked her view by stepping in front of Helena's line of sight to Anastasia. "Who better than the one who struck the Witch Queen down? The one who bears a likeness to her image and has a piece of her soul within her?" Helena asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"You're telling us that The Witch Queen's Magic is trying to take Anastasia's Body?! Does that mean that the Witch Queen is trying to revive herself using Anastasia's Vessel?!" Saerys asked in horror at the possibility of the Witch Queen returning using his friend's body.

"No. The Witch Queen is dead. Her Magic, like all creatures in this world, is alive and it chooses to serve the one who wields it or die with the one who it has deemed worthy of it. The Witch Queen's Magic refused to die with her and sought out a new vessel, a new master to wield, and it chose the one who struck down its' previous master." Helena explained as she drew closer to the group.

"Then why didn't it latch on to Altea? Altea has magic and it's stronger; Anastasia has never had magic." Iseul asked in confusion.

"There's where you are wrong, Elven Prince. Your precious champion has always had magic; a fragment of the Witch Queen's Magic upon their separation remained within her, it's simply reuniting the missing piece of itself. Beside..." Helena paused to look into Altea's amber eyes. 

"Bellerose's Magic and the Witch Queen's Magic would never have properly mixed; the two magics have spent decades lashing out and repelling each other, they have a distaste for each other." Helena explained, stopping in her steps when she was just a few feet away from the group.

"Then..." Altea began as she looked at her twitching lover, "What can we do to help her?" Altea asked as she kneeled down, resting one of her hand against the cold armor covering Anastasia's back; she could feel her raven's heartbeat elevating through the metal and the shivering coming from her body.

"There's nothing you can do about it at the moment. You must let her body get adjusted to the presence of magic and then...I suppose you can train her with her new power but...if left unchecked; she might go mad with power and you might have to put her down...like you did the Witch Queen." Helena said.

"Never!" Altea hissed at the woman, who merely raised an eyebrow. "I'd never hurt my raven! I won't let anyone else hurt her ever again!" Altea growled. 

"Altea! That's enough!" Lord Reiner barked. "The war is over and the champion is in bad condition; let's return to Wolfson Castle and see to it that she will get the proper treatment until the magic settles in her body." Reiner explained. Altea looked into the eyes of her leader before her eyes drifted to the trembling armored raven.

"Yes, Lord Reiner." Altea called out. Before she activated her magic once again in the direction of her raven, summoning a pink bubble of magic around the girl which levitated her off the ground. Altea set the spell to remain until she deactivated it and to follow her as the Retainers, plus Helena Klein, walked out of the Witch Queen's Castle; leaving the corpse of its' former owner to rot away. 

Upon arrival back to Lord Reiner's Domain, the crowds cheered when August announced that the Witch Queen met her end at the tip of the blade of Wolfson Castle's Champion; the people rejoiced but when they saw their champion and savior locked away in a pink bubble of magic, their praises turned to shouts of concern. Lord Reiner calmed the people and made way for Altea to take Anastasia into the castle.

Right now, Altea sat in a chair at the bedside of her raven; who was locked away in slumber as the magic of her enemy occupied her body. Anastasia looked as if she was sleeping peacefully but at times she would twitch or grunt in her sleep, sending Altea on edge every time. The bedroom door opened, Altea's head darted in that direction to see Solaire with a tray of food and peach tarts - Altea's Favorite.

"Lady Altea. Lord Reiner informed me that you were watching over our champion; he asked me to bring you supper." Solaire said as she walked over to the bedside dresser, placing the tray of food down before looking at the sleeping knight. "How is she fairing, Lady Altea?" 

"The Witch Queen's Magic is strong but My Raven is stronger. I know she will survive this and..." Altea gave a light smile. "Honestly, I think this will bring us closer together; I can help her control her new magic and we would the strongest duo in the lands." Altea smiled at the thought of fighting alongside her raven with magic.

"Are you sure that is what Lady Anastasia would want?" Solaire asked this caused Altea to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" Altea asked.

"From her first moment in this world, she's fought against the Witch Queen's Forces and her magic. Do you think she would be comfortable using it?" Solaire asked.

"I don't know but I do know this: Whatever my raven decides to do, I will support her as she supported me." Altea smiled at the sleeping raven-haired girl. 

"Always and Forever, My Magical Raven."

#altea bellerose #altea x mc #love and legends #lovestruck

[bb-bitto]

The Wise Reaper

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a wizard. He was very wise, and people came to him for advice. No one knew how, but he always knew who was a sinner and who wasn’t. He lived in a big castle, inhabited by strange creatures. The creatures looked like fairies, but the wizard always called them “Fey”. 

One day, a strange man ran into the wizard’s castle: “Oh wise Wizard! I am in need of your guidance!” The wizard looked at him, and saw an “x” on his chest:

“Come, young man, tell me, what sins have you committed?” 

The man looked very surprised, and then replied:

“Wise Wizard, my name is Ernesto, and my daughter Xenia has been abducted! Please, Wise Wizard, you must help me!” 

The Wise Wizard looked annoyed, he clearly didn’t want to help the man, for he’s a sinner: 

“Ernesto, was it? Why would an old Wizard like me, help out a young sinner like yourself?” 

Ernesto started to panic even more, and took out a knife from underneath his cloak, pointing it at the Wizard: 

“Wizard, if you don’t help me, I shall have to slay you right here! Azriel sent me here to bring you to him, but it seems his scheme is failing me! Your time is up, Exius, the Wise Reaper!” 

The Wizard looked surprised, this was an unexpected turn of events. He threw his robes open, making a huge scythe appear out of thin air:

“How bold of Azriel to send a measly human to my castle. It seems his schemes have gotten weaker over the years. Tell me, Ernesto, what makes someone a sinner?” 

Ernesto’s face turned pale, he was terrified beyond compare. “Well, dear Exius, a sinner, is someone like yourself, who defies the judgment of the Angels.” 

Exius replied: “Of course, a mere believer like yourself would say such a stupid thing. A sinner, is someone who committed a crime, which is in no way decided by the Angels. The Angels are mere fakes, power-hungry, winged people. Sins are judged in Hell, by none other than the Devil himself. I’ll see you there.”, he said, right before he sliced off the head of Ernesto. 

The next moment, Ernesto was somewhere completely different: 

“W-where am I? What is this p-p-place?” “This, dear Ernesto, is Hell. And you, are a sinner. You’ve committed the crime of homicide several times, ‘in the name of Archangel Azriel!’. Humans are such insolent creatures. You are to be sent to the second Circle of Hell, where you shall hang for eternity, while birds will continuously eat your flesh, wait for it to regenerate, only to eat it all over again. That is your judgment.”, said Satan to Ernesto. 

Ernesto looked behind him, and saw Exius standing there: 

“YOU! You did this to me! If it weren’t for you, I would’ve lived in heaven for eternity! You ruined everything!” Exius looked at Ernesto, and said: 

“A sin is a sin, nothing more, nothing less. No matter for what reason you may sin, your sins will always follow you for eternity. All the way to judgment here in Hell.” 

Exius then disappeared without a trace, leaving Ernesto to his eternal punishment. He made his way to Azriel, for he knew Azriel would be near the Cathedral. Once he arrived, he saw a girl, chained up with heavenly chains, by none other than Azriel himself. 

“Help me, Wizard! Azriel betrayed me! I entrusted myself to him, but he tied me up with these heavenly chains! I can’t get out!”, says the girl in a panicking tone of voice. 

“Yes indeed, you are very tied up, and I’m not letting you go! You are a sacrifice needed to let our Lord and Savior, God himself, descend onto this wretched land!”, says Azriel with a smug look on his face. 

Exius takes his magical scythe, and throws it straight at Azriel. Azriel deflects the scythe, making it fly off into the distance, 

“Hah! You actually thought such a rash attack would be enough to even scratch me? I expected more from you, Wise Reaper, but it seems you’re nothing more than a weakling!”, shouts Azriel. 

Suddenly, the scythe changes its direction, flying right in Azriel’s direction. Azriel doesn’t notice the scythe, resulting in the scythe slicing off one of Azriel’s wings:

“How dare you! My heavenly wings! God himself granted me these! You’ll pay dearly for this!”, Azriel said, while creating white spears of light out of thin air. 

He hurls the spears right at Exius, to which Exius finally starts to move, and dodges every spear without any trouble. The spears however, stop in their tracks, and turn around to follow him. Exius flies forward with what seems to be wings created by magic, and gets his scythe ready. 

“Your time has come, Azriel. You will no longer mistreat these foolish humans, and you will no longer torment this Earth. It’s time for you to finally be judged for your sins. Sins follow you, even beyond death itself.”, says Exius with a straight, serious face. 

He shoots forward, straight towards Azriel, with the spears still following him. 

“Hah! It seems your stupidity will be your demise after all! You should know to never face an Archangel head on!”, Azriel says while taking out his holy blade. 

Exius moves in closer and closer towards Azriel, but right before coming within range for Azriel’s blade, he dashes upward, higher into the sky. Azriel’s spears can’t adjust that quickly, and they fly straight into Azriel himself, impaling his only remaining wing, his legs, and at last his heart: 

“How, how could this happen to me? I’m supposed to be the strongest, even invincible! I can’t be slain by a filthy servant of Satan! We Archangels commit no sins! We are law itself!”, says Azriel in his dying breath, before falling on the ground, and bleeding to death. Exius makes his scythe disappear, and descends back to the ground: 

“No one escapes fate. You shall always be judged for the sins thee bring upon this world, no matter what reasons ye may have. I am but a servant, bringing sinners to the Underworld for judgment.”, he says while standing next to Azriel’s dead body. 

Exius then rushes off to the girl: “Hey! Are you okay? You’re safe now, Azriel is gone.” 

Then, Exius takes his scythe out again, and releases the girl from the heavenly chains: 

“Oh thank you! My name is Willow! Azriel was going to sacrifice me because I’m not human! I’m actually a Fey!”, says the girl, hugging Exius very tight to thank him for saving her. Exius takes Willow to his castle, where she’s safe for eternity, and they lived happily ever after…

#fantasy #short story

[dailyaudiobible]

12/25/2020 DAB Transcript

Zechariah 8:1-23, Revelation 16:1-21, Psalms 144:1-15, Proverbs 30:29-31

Today is the 25th day of December Merry Christmas everybody welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is great to be here with you. We have worked an entire year to get to this place and now we commemorate with awe and wonder the reality that the Savior has arrived, that God would not tolerate the separation between he and us any longer and He came in person to rescue us. And may we respond with open hearted joy.

Song:

Joy to the world – Hillsong

Joy to the world The Lord is come Let Earth receive her King Let every heart prepare Him room And heaven and nature sing And heaven and nature sing Let heaven, let heaven and nature sing Let heaven, let heaven and nature sing

Joy to the Earth the Savior reigns Let men their songs employ While fields and floods Rocks, hills and the plains Repeat the sounding joy (repeat the sounding joy) Repeat the sounding joy Repeat, repeat the sounding joy Repeat, repeat the sounding joy Repeat, oh darling, Lord

Repeat, repeat the sound, yeah

Repeat, repeat the sound, yeah

Let the heavens sing

He rules the world (he rules the world) With truth and grace And makes the nations prove The glories of His righteousness And the wonders of His love And the wonders of His love And the wonders, the wonders of His love And the wonders, the wonders of His love

Joy, joy, joy to the world (his love) Joy, joy, joy, singing Joy, joy, joy to the world (sing it, sing it, sing it, sing it) Joy, joy, joy, singing

Joy, joy, joy to the world Joy, joy, joy, singing Joy, joy, joy to the world Joy, joy, joy, singing

Singing (singing) Singing (singing) Singing joy to the world now Singing (singing) Singing (singing) Joy to the world now (joy to the world now) Joy to the world now Joy to the world now Joy to the world now, now, now, now, now, now, now Ooh yeah (oh yeah)

To the world To the world You reign, You reign, yeah

Joy, joy, joy to the world Joy, joy, joy, singing

 Even though it's Christmas day, even though there's a lot going on on Christmas day we have a rhythm here around the Global Campfire and so we should spend a portion of our Christmas day together hearing from God's word, which is what we’ll do now. We’re reading from the New English Translation this week. Zechariah chapter 8.

Commentary:

Okay. So, today is Christmas day and I don't know what time of day it is that you might be hearing this. Maybe it's early morning Christmas morning before everyone's awake or maybe everybody gets up at dawn and so there's no time for that and it's been festivities and now you've just kind of found a second to catch her breath. Maybe it's Christmas night and this is how you’re kind of sealing Christmas, ending Christmas before falling asleep. And it's been a good…well…it’s been more than a month now that all of the lights and trees and all of the festivities are all over the place all throughout our neighborhoods all throughout our communities. There is no celebration like Christmas. The world over in all of our cultures and customs throughout the earth. Billions and billions of people are observing Christmas for all kinds of different reasons and not all of them are religious, but regardless, everyone that is commemorating and observing Christmas in some sort of way is acknowledging the arrival of God in the flesh. And there is no celebration on earth like it. As Christians we…we might argue that Easter, resurrection day, the day where it is accomplished is more or equally as important. I don't know. I guess it doesn't really matter. But Christmas is a day of joy and celebration the world over, and the whole build up to its brings our hearts closer together in unity. We sense goodwill toward people around us in ways that we really don't the rest of the year. And, so, the world is celebrating today, and we have either got in our cars and traveled across town or across the country to be with loved ones or we’ve gotten on planes. And it was a little more tricky this year than ever before, or maybe people have come into our town and they are with us, our friends, our family. We are surrounded by goodness and yet I know that some of you that I'm speaking to that's not the story. I’ve learned that over the years. I know that some of you may be together with your spouse, but that's…that’s how you observe Christmas. That's all there is right now. Or maybe nobody. Some of you are literally…have nobody today. You’re celebrating Christmas physically anyway, alone. I…I kind of grew up with a certain kind of Christmas. My mom she was determined to create a season around Christmas that she never really got to experience. And, so, it was really, really important for her to kind of build up the Christmas spirit. And, so, I just kinda grew up thinking that's how it was for everyone. It wasn't until I became older that I began to realize, no, not everybody even has a family. It wasn't until I got into ministry, especially ministry here at the Daily Audio Bible that I began to realize when we get to December 25th every year it is tremendous and joyous celebration. The church, the capital “C” church around the world, we’re like…we are in full bloom celebrating the arrival of the Savior and it sets an example and sends it out into the world but not everybody is involved. Some have no one and nowhere and that's always been a bit sad to me. So, every time we get here to the 25th  of December here at the Daily Audio Bible certainly we want to jump up and down and celebrate the arrival of the Savior, we want to jump up and down and celebrate, but not everybody gets this traditional type of celebration. And I’ve become more and more aware of that. And, so, each Christmas day that we come to on the Daily Audio Bible I want to acknowledge that. I acknowledge that this time that we’re having around the Global Campfire right now centered around God's word, knowing that, at least for these moments we’re not alone. Somebody else somewhere is connected to what we’re doing right now. I’ve found that for some of you this is your family Christmas, this is…this is the gathering, and this is one of those moments where I wish that the…I mean I’m so grateful for the Internet because it creates the community that we share but I wish that we could reach through it and actually be together. I guess it was maybe like six or seven years ago when reading through December 25th’s reading of the Daily Audio Bible, and of course we’re reading through the book of Revelation. I’m just reading out God pouring out bowls of wrath upon the earth and all the horrible things that are happening on the earth and earth's people are suffering tremendously because of this outpouring of wrath and it's like Christmas day. And I'm realizing that some of us are having joyful celebrations and some of us are completely by ourselves, and I just…I can remember like getting done with that reading and just going, “this doesn't feel like Christmas.” And I am an introvert and I'm a creative person. And, so, I’ve got a bit of a melancholy personality and…at times…and I can brood and especially if things are disrupted, I can brood. And, so, just kind of brooding realizing that every Christmas always for some reason feels like somethings missing…I don't know…missing. Even if its perfect somethings missing because I’ve felt like that at Christmas at some point or another long as I can remember. Like that…even today. We have festive joyous celebration with our family and we’re having a wonderful time together but there'll be a point in the day where I'll find myself somewhere alone whether I’m going for a walk or just finding a quiet place for just a little while…to let that sink in. And I used to call it like Christmas blues or something like that because…and I know I’m not the only one…and I’m not saying things that nobody else understands. I know that I'm talking to some of you directly, like I'm speaking your language right now. You're feeling it and you don't know how…I mean it's supposed to be joyous and it doesn't exactly feel that way. It feels like something's still broken. It was just a handful of years ago, the year my mother died. My mother, she…she lived through Christmas of 2016, but she passed away in the first couple weeks of January 2017. And it was that year…my mom in the hospital…just really having lost…lost any kind of tethering to reality. I’m running back and forth to hospitals seven days a week, keeping the Daily Audio Bible going seven days a week, run in from the hospital, come into the studio reading Christmas days reading feeling the…the fatigue of it all, feeling the blues of it all, and then reading Revelation and the bowls of God's wrath poured out on the earth and just feeling like this…this doesn't feel like Christmas. And then I read Revelation again and tried to consider it and the concept of Christmas and then I realized what's happening in Revelation for our Christmas day reading isn’t God just so angry at people that He's had enough and wants to destroy them at all. It’s God putting an end to evil. It’s God putting an end to everything that has destroyed us all along. It’s difficult to read of but it's God putting things right so that all things can become new again. And I realized kind of in that year in that particular reading this is what has to happen. This is why we are told so many times that we must endure until the end. Basically, what we’re reading in Revelation today is that baby Jesus all grown up eradicating the power of sin and death and the grave forever and ever. Amen. So, at least for me when I feel those blues kind of come, this kind of emptiness that something's not right I realize that all I’m feeling is the longing of my soul. We are in the in between. We can jump up and down and celebrate wildly for the arrival of the Savior, and we should, and we are, but we are in between. We are waiting for the second arrival of the Savior, when all things will be made new and all things will be put right. And in the meantime, everything isn't right, and we are here to endure and to share the good news and to be a part of the rescue for as long as we can, as long as we live. We are the living story of Christmas all year long through our very lives. It's not how many lights we can put on our house. It's how much of a light can shine out of our heart that’s gonna matter. And, so, no matter what's going on, if you’ve got all kinds of festivities and it's just crazy out there, if you find a moment to just sit with that to just understand this is the in between, that all things are being made new. We are being made new. The Scriptures have told us this over and over and over throughout this year. We are in process. It's okay where we are right now. This isn’t where we’re gonna be 12 months from now. Think about Christmas day last year. We had no idea what was on the horizon for 2020. We were going into this year with the idea of seeing clearly and vision and just moving forward and finally getting our legs under us. And this was gonna be a fantastic year and we didn't realize we were going to face some significant challenges that the world has never really seen before We were gonna find how divided we are. We were gonna get vision alright. The truth was gonna come to us. We were gonna see things as they really were and stop faking, stop pretending they were different than they are. And we got a good dose of reality. Last Christmas 12 months ago today we had no idea. So, in fairness, we have no idea what's in front of us, which is not a message of ominous things to come. I don't think that. I never think that. The truth is 12 months ago we did not know what we now know. We had not experienced what we have experienced together as humanity in the world in 2020. We've learned a lot, a lot about ourselves, a lot about each other, a lot about our cultures and societies, a lot. We aren't the same people we were on Christmas day last year and we’re not gonna be the same people 12 months from today on Christmas day next year. We are in process. It's okay. Because what we read in things like the book of Revelation is, even though there is a profound disruption to the status quo, a complete upheaval of things. The things that are being disrupted have to fall. They have to go away to be replaced by something new. And where this whole story is going is that all things will be made new again. And, so, let's take some time today on this beautiful celebratory day to certainly enjoy our presents and certainly enjoy giving the presents and O the twinkle in the children's eyes and the gratefulness and the thankfulness and the beautiful sense of family, yes to all of that. Let's dive into it completely, but let's also be aware of the deeper currents of what Christmas represents. This is all going somewhere and that somewhere is good. And, so, I love you guys. This is my 15th Christmas day doing this, being here behind this mic at Daily Audio Bible and I am profoundly grateful for the journey that we’ve been on and are on. And, so, from the bottom of my heart Jill and I wish you all a very, very joyous Merry Christmas.

Song:

O Come, All Ye Faithful

O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem O come and behold Him, born the King of Angels

O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him Christ the Lord

O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful to Bethlehem

O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful to Bethlehem

O sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation O come, o come ye to Bethlehem O Come and behold Him, born the King of Angels

O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him Christ the Lord

O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful to Bethlehem

O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful to Bethlehem

O come all ye O come all ye faithful O come all ye O come all ye faithful

O come all ye O come all ye faithful O come all ye O come all ye faithful

O come all ye O come all ye faithful O come all ye O come all ye faithful

O come all ye O come all ye faithful O come all ye O come all ye faithful

O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful to Bethlehem

O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful to Bethlehem

O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful Born the King of Angels

O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him Christ the Lord

O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful to Bethlehem

[beyond-the-mirror]

Drunk uncle Dante explains: Christmas

So recently I watched a very funny video called Drunk uncle explains Christmas and I couldn’t help but think of uncle Dante trying (and failing miserably) to explain Christmas to a very curious little Nero. 

In this context, Dante is visiting his parents’ house for the holidays (Eva and Sparda are still alive in this AU) as well as Vergil and his son Nero.

This was written purely for laughs and giggles, so don’t take it too seriously. By the way, this is the video I'm parodying with this short fic if you want to check it out, although I changed a few things to adapt it better for the purpose of this story. It’s in spanish though, but you can turn the subtitles on. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

..........

It was the night before Christmas. A chilly air ran through the ever so active city of Red Grave, which currently had its streets covered in a soft and pristine layer of snow reflecting all the colorful lights that decorated every corner of the city.

People gathered together in their homes to share a most anticipated reunion with their beloved families, mouth-watering food served on their dinning tables to celebrate the holidays, as well as the numerous wrapped presents hidden underneath the Christmas trees ready to be opened.

And of course, the Sparda household was no exception to these festivities.

Tiny hands wandered around a beautifully decorated tree, its fingers feeling around the decorations that sparked curiosity and wonder in the eyes of little Nero. Tucked between the trees branches, a porcelain star caught Nero’s attention, his little fingers reaching out at the trinket. His attempt was interrupted however, when a very loud snore broke the silence that had covered the living room.

Nero turned around searching for the origin of the sound, finding out that it was his uncle Dante who had fallen asleep on the couch nearby.

“Uncle Dante? Uncle Dante, don’t fall asleep yet!”

As small hands nudged the man’s shoulder, Dante slowly woke from his drunken slumber, having already downed a couple of wine bottles (and probably a whiskey one too), though due to his demonic heritage, he only felt a bit tipsy.

“Ummm, c’mon kid... let your uncle sleep for a little longeeer.”

“But uncle Dante, it’s only seven o’ clock. Dinner will be ready any minute now, and we haven’t even opened the presents!”

“Ughh... fine, you’re lucky you’re adorable as hell.”

Dante stretched and yawned while little Nero sat on the carpet, next to the toy train set his grandpa Sparda had set for him early.

“By the way uncle Dante, can you tell me the story of Christmas? Pleeeaaase? You always have the best stories!”

Dante sat silently until he finally relented thanks to the huge puppy eyes his nephew was giving him. “Alright then. But only because I’m the coolest uncle ever right?”

“Yes! The best one too!” Nero giggled enthusiastically, which always warmed his heart to no extent.

“Ok, fetch me that book over there.”

Nero handed the requested book to his uncle, which he proceeded to open and read out loud, starting with the story.

“Alright. Long, long time ago... in the ancient Egypt-”

Nero giggled once again “Silly uncle Dante! Papa says the story took place in Jerusalem.”

“Ok, ok then. So, Mary was doing housework, ironing some clothes because their housekeeper was fired-”

“Like they did to you uncle?”

Dante sighed “No- I wanted to stay at your grandparent’s house for a few days longer, that’s it!”

“You were kicked out of your office because you owed five months worth of rent, you irresponsible imbecile!” Vergil shouted from the studio where he was currently reading.

“Oh shut up Vergil! At least I know what a condom is!” Dante rudely shouted back at his twin before proceeding with the story. “Then, an angel arrived and his name was Gabe. Gabe told Mary not to be afraid because she will have a baby, who will be named Jesus and who will be the son of God. And Mary was cool with that.”

“Wait uncle Dante, how are children born?”

“Well that’s another fun story for another time, but in Mary’s case it was thanks to the Holy Spirit. Not so ‘holy’ tho, considering he messed with Joseph’s wife.” He snorted while a confused Nero tilted his head to the side. “Okay then, Joseph doubted Mary’s virginity, so he demanded a divorce.”

“What does virginity mean?”

“It’s like a hundred dollars bill. If you keep it, it serves no purpose, but if you use it, it’s gone forever. So make sure to spend it well and at the right time!”

“Ohhh I see.” Poor naive Nero, completely oblivious to what his uncle was talking really talking about. “Also, there were divorces at that time?”

“Yep, they were called ‘stonings’“

Little Nero nodded in complete awe at what he perceived, was his uncle’s great knowledge.

“But of course Mary demanded a divorce first, and exclaimed that she was keeping all the money, the car, as well as-”

“Stop mixing stories you buffoon! That happened to you with Lady!” Vergil’s angry voice once again interrupted the story.

“Stop bringing up my personal matters in front of the kid Verge!”

“Scum!”

“You son of a-!”

“Uncle Dante!” Nero’s innocent voice calmed Dante’s nerves, allowing him to take a deep breath and relax.

“Sorry ‘bout that, now where were we? Oh! Well it was the Holy Spirit, and Joseph wanted to take Mary to Las Vegas for their honeymoon... buuut they didn’t have any money, so they settled for Bethlehem instead.”

“There were honeymoons at the time?”

“Of course! You needed lots of money tho... but one day youuu Lady, wait ‘till I hit the jackpot and then you will see!”

“Get over your problems already!” Another exasperated interruption from his twin, Dante surely wasn’t getting any rest.

“Well then. The couple arrived at a cheap hotel room when suddenly, Mary went into labor. And that’s how sweet baby Jesus was born, our Lord and Savior I suppose.”

“Whoaaa...” Dante couldn’t help but feel proud that he managed to keep his nephew entertained with his fun, albeit inaccurate, stories. “Uncle Dante, was Jesus a good person?”

“Good? He was great actually! He could turn water into wine and stuff!”

“Can I drink wine too?”

“Of course! The bible says so after all.” Dante was about to hand his nephew the unfinished bottle of wine he had kept next to the couch when suddenly-

“IF YOU GIVE WINE TO MY SON I SWEAR ON OUR DEMONIC LINEAGE THAT I WILL MUTILATE YOU BEYOND RECOGNITION!”

“Damn it!” As soon as Vergil’s voice entered his ears, he quickly retracted his hand, taking the bottle of wine and putting it as far away as possible from innocent little Nero who jumped at the immense power and fury in his father’s tone.

“Let’s continue with our story. Thus Mary uploaded Jesus’ baby pics to Twitter and the Fairly OddParents star-faved the pics-”

“Nooo uncle Dante! That’s not how the story goes!” Nero laughed wholeheartedly “Papa told me once. The star was up in the sky and they weren’t the Fairly OddParents, they were the Three Wise Men.”

“Okay okay, three men, got it.”

“Three WISE men. And they were kings!”

“Whatever you say kid.”

“And one was black!”

“A bit racist if you ask me.” Dante rolled his eyes and bit back a laugh before continuing. “So, the star told the three wise kings to follow them for God’s sake, literally, and they arrived at the stable where Jesus had been born with gifts for him. One gifted him gold, the other gifted him myrrh-”

“Wait uncle Dante, what is myrrh?”

“Let’s say... it’s a kind of herb.”

“Like the one papa once found under your bed and stabbed you with his blue floating swords for?”

“It was for medicinal purposes I swear!” Dante nervously responded, flustered by his nephew’s sudden question. “Ahem... and the other dude gifted him incense.”

“Why incense, uncle Dante?”

“They were in a stable! You ever been to one? They smell like crap!”

“What about the massacre of children in Bethlehem? Papa also mentione that.”

“Of course! Hitler was a monster, worse than any demon I ever encountered!”

“Noooo silly uncle Dante! It was King Herod! Hitler was austrian and from a different era.”

“Whoa whoa whoa kid, who’s holding the damn book again?”

“The book is upside down uncle Dante. And that’s not even the Bible, that’s papa’s favorite book.”

Once he gave a closer inspection, Dante realized he had been holding the book upside down indeed. Moreover, once he closed it to look at the cover, he noticed that it had been Vergil’s beloved anthology of William Blake all this time. 

Sighing and setting the book aside, Dante turned to his lovely nephew “Look little Nero. The important thing about Christmas is that we are all here gathered as a family. It’s not about the gifts or the turkey, it’s about love, like the one of the family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. It doesn’t matter where we come from. Joseph raised Jesus with lots of love, and that’s why he became such a good dude and sooo famous.”

Nero smiled warmly at the words, and Dante couldn’t help but ruffle his cute nephew’s soft white locks of hair, making him giggle.

“That means...” Dante continued “that even if you are not a planned child, like you Nero, we still love you all the same.”

“Huh? Not planned?” Nero tilted his head in confusion. “Does that mean... I’m adopted?” Tears were beginning to form at the corner of his baby blue eyes. However, Dante couldn’t even explain the misunderstanding when a loud bang resonated through the entire house.

“DAAANTEEEEE!!!” Vergil had barged out of the studio and into the living room, furious to the point that he had Devil Triggered and with a halo of summoned swords around him.

Needless to say, poor Dante had to run for his life from his rampaging brother, a chase that was soon put to an end after Grandma Eva stepped out and reprimanded both siblings with a rolling pin and a look so stern and powerful that made them both cower in fear and respect. Meanwhile, Grandpa Sparda decided to stay and calm down little Nero, showing him his new train set until the boy was giggling blissfully once again.

Just another normal day at the Sparda household after all.

#devil may cry #dmc dante #dmc nero #dmc vergil #drunk uncle dante #christmas #fanfiction #crackfic #christmas story #lmao what am i even doing

[wewritethings]

My Queen

Daenerys Targaryen x Reader

Request By Anon:  can you do a Daenerys x Reader where Dany gets the Iron Throne without burning down KL and while shes giving a speech to everyone, R arrives on Rhaegals back (hes still alive) and basically shows off and greets Dany lovingly. Everyones shocked. Then, together they rule as queens.

Written By: Rose

Words: 1,106

      The bells tolled in the towers surrounding King’s Landing. The city had surrendered, the throne was rightfully hers. Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen took a deep breath; Fire and Blood. Those were her houses words, those were the deeds of the mighty beasts that adorned her sigil. These people abandoned her family during Robert’s Rebellion. They deserved fire and blood. But she was not like her father. She was not like her brother. She closed her eyes trying to block out the deafening ringing of the bells. Trying desperately to not commit the fire and blood of her house. To be something new, something better. She thought of (Y/N).

        Sweet (Y/N), born of Westeros and stolen away to Essos. Stripped of everything she held dear and forced into a foreign land, much like herself. (Y/N) was “given” to her as a wedding present for her marriage to Khal Drogo. (Y/N) was supposed to be a slave, owned by Daenerys. Instead she became the Khaleesi's closest companion. A woman who should be full of hate and vengeance from having her life ripped away from her was instead compassionate and caring, always making an effort to find the best in everyone. She taught Daenerys that it didn’t matter that her father was mad and much of the Targaryen bloodline faced a similar fate. She could be a dragon. Protective, strong, loyal. Dragons aren’t all fire and blood, and neither was she. 

         She took off on Drogon, aiming for the Red Keep. These people, her people, would not fear her. No, they would love her. Just as she loved (Y/N). The bells continued to toll. 

                                                        ...

          Daenerys closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of gentle hands weaving her hair together in an intricate braid.

       “You look beautiful, my queen” 

         The blonde snapped her eyes open and stared up at you. “You are far better looking than me, my love” Dany kissed the hand you had rested on her shoulder, before turning to watch your reflection in the vanity mirror. She could always made your cheeks flush, and she loved when they did.     

        “Is Rheagal doing any better today?” 

        You couldn’t help but smile at Daenerys concern. Everyone thought the mighty beast had perished, but while everyone headed south for King’s Landing soon after the naval attack Rheagal’s body had washed up on shore. Rheagal was severely injured and on the brink of death, luckily enough however you stayed behind at Dragonstone. It was a miracle that you were able to heal the beast. “Much better! Sam sent me the blueprints to repair his wings. The wounds aren’t fully healed yet but he’s back to eating regularly,” 

         Rheagal had become much closer to you since the incident. Daenerys loved how much you cared about the dragons and how the dragons cared for you. “Good, I want you both there at the coronation,” Daenerys stood, making her way over to multiple racks which held the remainder of her coronation outfit. (Y/N) made quick of her work, sliding on the charcoal black outer layering, of her dress which covered her torso and much of her pure white skirt. Embroidered scales made up much of the bodice and overskirt, bright crimson thread mimicking the colors of Drogon and the Targaryen sigil. An angel disguised as a dragon, the savior of the Seven Kingdoms.

        You were left in awe as you looked upon your queen. Daeneryes looked absolutely radiant. She turned around, catching a glimpse of the slack-jawed wonderstruck look on your face. “What is it this time?” Dany questioned, she had seen the star struck look come across your face only a handful of times, most of which occurred before your affections were known by each other.     

        “Do you know how much I love you?”  

         Daenerys couldn’t help but giggle, “Not nearly as much as I love you,” She cupped your face and kissed you tenderly. You were about to deepen the kiss when there was a sharp knock on the door before it was pushed open.

          “Pardon me for interrupting my queen, but the coronation is about to start.” the Hand of the Queen stood by the door, smiling softly at Daenerys and her lover. Tyrion was the first to discover your relationship, and has been supportive ever since. You nodded towards Daenerys, signaling that she should take her leave. She placed one more chaste kiss upon your lips before you both left with Tyrion. 

         Dothraki, Unsullied, Lords and Lady’s from all over Westeros hand come from all across Westeros to watch the coronation of their new queen, including many highborns from the newly independent North as well. The Steps of the Red Keep has been transformed for the coronation. Targaryen sigils and colors covered every surface, epic tales of the Long Night and the fight for the Throne decorate every wall, hailing the heroes that fought in the battle. 

          Shadows danced a crossed the crowd, weaving in an intricate waltz. Dragons. Drogon and Rhaegal dove downwards. Perching on opposite sides of the large stone staircase. Cheers ruptured from the crowd as Daenerys stepped forward to claim her crown. 

          Tyrion stood behind his queen, holding an ornate angular crown decorated in dragon scales. Daenerys’ ears were thrumming, she could barely hear the long winded speech Tyrion was making before she felt the weight of the crown, her crown, placed atop her head. “I now proclaim you Daenerys Stormborn, Queen of the Andals and the First men, ruler of the Six Kingdoms,”

          The crowd was in an elated, the cheers were deafening. The bells rang once more, not marking treachery, but in celebration of their new queen. Daenerys looked across the sea of her people, all who loved her dearly as she loved them. 

          Daenerys turned to (Y/N), holding a hand out to you. You were apprehensive at first, never before had your affections been known to others except for Tyrion, Greyworm, and Jon. You took her hand in yours, she pulled you closer to where she was standing. 

          “I promise to you all, that we will rule justly and fairly. I will never bring honor or shame to you, my people. And we will right the wrongs made by previous rulers, for Dragons are no longer a symbol of fear, but of protection for every one of my peoples and allies for as long as we rule,”

          The crowd cheers only grew louder. Daenerys smile out at her people, before kissing your hand. With you by her side, she would not only be a Khaleesi, but a just and kind Queen to all. 

#daenerys stormborn #daenerys targaryen #game of thrones #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys stormborn x reader #drogon #rahgal #dragons #jon snow #GoT #rose writes

[megsironthrone]

Already Married

Based on this request:  Con you do something where Reader is Tyron’s baby step sister who has feeling for Bronn and dislikes Joffrey and after mouthing off to him Joffrey decides that he’s going to marry her off to one of his knights who happens to be very horrible. Not wanting her to marry some jerk Bronn and Tyron decide that Bronn is going to act like he and reader have been married for some time. Resulting in some feelings being shared?

Here you go! I do not own ANY Game of Thrones characters. They belong to George R.R.Martin. I changed it a bit from a knight to a lord since knights are, technically, not allowed to marry.

Warnings: Joffrey being Joffrey, some angst (mostly yelling/arguing), about as fluffy as I can write Bronn.

Pairings/Characters: Bronn x fem!Lannister reader, Tyrion, Joffrey, Cersei.

Being a Lannister wasn’t easy. Sure, you were part of one of the richest houses in Westeros, but it was within the family that trouble brewed. You were the only child from Tywin’s second marriage. That wife, your mother, had also died when you were very young. Tywin doted on you though. It was your sister and her eldest son that were the cause of most of your trouble.

         Cersei was beautiful, there was no denying it. She could charm anyone she wanted to. She could and usually did get everything she wanted. You looked up to your sister until you saw the monster she was inside. Cersei, however, saw you as a threat. Others saw you as just as beautiful, charming, and witty as Cersei. That didn’t sit too well with her. As such, she let her cruel son treat you in whatever manner he deemed fit. When that happened, you thanked the gods for your brothers, especially Tyrion.

         Tyrion was your best friend and confidant. You talked to him about everything. Granted, you weren’t a child. You had flowered many, many moons ago and you were of age for anything and everything. But Tyrion was still more experienced in the ways of the world so you came to him with your questions, concerns, and thoughts. And when Tyrion brought Bronn to King’s Landing, you began to talk to him about love.

         When you’d first met Bronn, you never pictured yourself being attracted to him. He was crude and crass and he made it obvious that he cared more for gold and material things than he did people. But as you got to know him, you saw that you were quite attracted to that type of attitude. You found yourself wishing you could be more like that. And soon, after many months of listening to him talk about anything and everything, you realized you didn’t want to be like him.  You wanted to be with him.

         "It’s silly, isn’t it?“ you asked Tyrion one afternoon when Bronn was unable to join you for some reason. Tyrion chuckled. "Not at all. You’ve seen the women I fall in love with. There is a type for each of us and I’d say you found yours. Bronn, for all his faults, can be a good man. I think you could bring out the best in him. I know he’d certainly bring out the sense of adventure in you.” You shook your head and laughed softly.

         A few days later, when you were with Bronn and Tyrion once again, a large figure appeared in the doorway. “The king wants ya,” The Hound told you. You sighed. You knew it was coming. You’d put Joffrey in his place that morning and he was clearly not happy about it. Now it was time to face your punishment. You skirted passed The Hound and headed for the throne room. Before you were out of earshot, you heard Tyrion ask if The Hound knew what Joffrey had planned for you. You didn’t hear the answer but you heard footsteps following after you a moment later.

         Bronn was soon walking right behind you as Tyrion walked next to you. “Y/N, you may want to wait,” he warned. You glanced back at Bronn who looked like he was ready to take someone’s head off. You stopped. The Hound let out a huff and walked around you. “Don’t keep him waiting. It’ll just make it worse for ya,” he warned before disappearing around the corner.

         "We know what Joffrey plans to do. He plans to marry you off.“ Your eyes widened. "W-What? To who?” Tyrion cleared his throat and exchanged a glance with Bronn. “Lord Duncas Perk.” You swallowed thickly. You’d heard of Lord Perk. He was known for being a complete tyrant. He was nearly as cruel as Joffrey and was a bad of a drunk as Robert had been. And, according to rumors, he smelled horrible too.

         "No,“ you whispered. Tyrion took your hand in his. "Don’t worry. Now that you know, we can think of something. No sister of mine is going to marry a man like Perk.” You nodded, fighting back tears. There was no way you were going into the throne room with tear stains on your cheeks. You were not going to give Joffrey the satisfaction.

         You continued your walk into the throne room with Tyrion and Bronn at your heels. Joffrey smirked when he saw you. “My dear aunt, how nice of you to join us. I have some wonderful news for you.” You held your head high and forced your knees to stop shaking. “Oh?” you asked, thankful your voice didn’t shake. Joffrey’s smirk deepened. “Yes. I’ve arranged a marriage for you.”

         Before you could say a word, someone else spoke up. “Afraid you can’t do that, You Grace.” You whipped your head around to look at Bronn. He wasn’t looking at you but was fixed on Joffrey. You glanced back at your nephew who looked more angry than you’d ever seen him. It wasn’t often that people disagreed with him in a room full of people. The whispering around the room and the expressions on both Joffrey and Cersei’s faces told you that something was about to happen that you weren’t going to like.

         Bronn took a step closer to you and took your hand in a surprisingly gentle manner. “What I mean is, you can’t go marrying off a woman that’s already married, can you?” Joffrey’s features morphed from rage to shock. “Already…married? My aunt is a maiden.” Bronn shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not the case. See, we’ve been married nearly a year now.”

         Joffrey looked between you and Bronn as you edged closer to your valiant savior. “You’re lying.” You shook your head as Tyrion finally spoke up. “They are married, I can assure you. I was there. It was a secret ceremony as we knew Father wouldn’t approve.” At least that part was true. When Tywin did eventually arrive in King’s Landing, there would be hells to pay.

         "It is true. I was waiting to tell Father in person before we announced it to everyone. Given the circumstances, you left us no choice,“ you said, doing your best to keep your voice even. You got as close to Bronn as you could in case Joffrey lost it. It wasn’t out of the ordinary. For once though, it seemed Cersei was on your side. She whispered something in Joffrey’s ear. He snapped at her for a second, but then relaxed. "Very well. I wish you good fortune, Aunt Y/N.”  

         Bronn wasted no time in leading you out of the throne room, but you didn’t breathe normally again until you were back in Tyrion’s study. You whirled on Bronn. “Married?! That was your grand idea to get Joffrey out of marrying me off? Telling him I’m already married to you?” Bronn frowned and you could tell he was getting angry.

         "I saved your life, you know. A little gratitude would be nice.“ You sighed as you sank down in the nearest chair. "Thank you,” you whispered, “But now there can be no slip ups. We have to convince everyone that we’re married and…in love. One mistake and not only will Joffrey give my hand to Perk, but you’ll lose your head for lying to him.” Bronn nodded. “I’m not afraid of that little sh-” Your loud sigh cut him off. “It’s not about being afraid, Bronn. It is about keeping your head attached to your neck.”

         Bronn poured himself some wine, took a sip, and promptly spit it out. “I need ale.” He turned to leave. You shot up and ran to the door, preventing him from opening it. “Out of the way.” You shook your head. “No. Not until you tell me why you saved me.” Bronn shook his. “Looks like we’re going to be stuck in here a long time then.” Rolling your eyes, you grabbed his hand and lead him through the Keep toward your chambers. It was going to be a long night.

*time skip* (I’ve been doing a lot of these again)

         It had been a few months since Bronn had announced your “marriage” to Joffrey and pretty much the rest of King’s Landing. You were in the market with your handmaiden when you saw Bronn outside Littlefinger’s brothel. You instantly grew angry. You were supposed to be acting in love and happily married and here he was near a brothel. That may not have been a big deal to other wives, but it certainly was to you and everyone knew that.

         "Bronn!“ you hissed as you approached him. He pulled back from the whore in front of him. His eyes met yours and he arched a brow in challenge. Your demeanor instantly changed as you looked at the whore in front of you. "Do you know who I am?” She nodded sheepishly. Definitely a new girl. “Good. Did he tell you that he’s married to me?” She shook her head and you hummed. “I see. Then I guess he also didn’t tell you that I’m carrying his child.” She shook her head again and scurried back inside.

         Bronn turned to you with fury in his eyes. You smiled sweetly and turned on your heel to head back to the Keep. Bronn followed, fuming. He didn’t say a word until you were safely back in your now shared chambers. You poured him a tankard of the ale he insisted be kept in the room and then waited.

         He chugged the ale in less than a minute and let his gaze burn into yours. “All the trouble of having a wife and none of the benefits. That’s what I’ve got. And now I can’t even bed a whore.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “What if someone had seen you?!” you snapped, “What if Littlefinger had seen you and told Joffrey?! He knows I’d never put up with infidelity! He would question our marriage.”

         Bronn nearly screamed in frustration. Instead, his tankard crashed against the door as he threw it. “Why in Seven Hells did I think this was a good idea?!” he questioned. You weren’t sure if he meant to say it out loud, but it hurt your feelings and when your feelings were hurt, you got angry. “I don’t know! If I’m such a burden to you, why didn’t you let Joffrey marry me off?!”

         "Because I can’t stand the thought of that prick touching you!“ he screamed back, "I won’t let anyone look at my wife!” You froze for a minute then huffed, “I’m NOT your wife, remember?” Bronn whirled back to you. “Well, you should be! I want you to be!” You stared at him. “What?” Bronn marched over to you, fire blazing in his eyes, and grabbed your arms. He pulled you to him and planted his lips firmly on yours.

         Your eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time he’d ever kissed you and it was everything you expected from him. Rough, possessive, and passionate all rolled into one. He pulled back for a moment, but you weren’t letting him off that easy. You chased after his lips, connecting once again with passion and vigor of your own. Two could play at that game.

         This time when you parted, you were panting. Bronn rested his forehead against yours. “Gods, I love you, woman,” he whispered. That one you were certain you weren’t supposed to hear. Bronn didn’t share feelings. He liked he pretend he didn’t have them. Still, nothing could stop you from replying, “I love you too.” Bronn pulled back and smirked. “Do you, now?” You rolled your eyes. You weren’t about to let his arrogance ruin the mood, so you silenced him with your lips again.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

@brewsthespirit-blog @ghostie-writes @littlemisscaptainfandom @line-viper @etherealpotter @frozenhuntress67 @cd1242 @gruffle1 @smalltownbigheart

#george r.r.martin #game of thrones #bronn #bronn x reader

[alldaddyarchive]

        WHITECHAPEL’S ‘THE VALLEY’ LYRIC STARTER.

when a demon defiles a witch.

❝ I remember when the fire was security, now it’s killing me. ❞

❝ A wolf can’t hunt without its prey. ❞

❝ The demons dance by the fireside but tonight they migrate to my bedside.  ❞

❝ Burn the bed, burn everything; it’s a lie anyway. ❞

❝ There’s nowhere left to run. ❞

❝ There’s nowhere left for me to be. ❞

❝ I cry but if you take a closer look you’ll see it’s a demon’s eyes. ❞

❝  For my spirit guide is trapped inside my brain. ❞

❝ In the name of the father and the holy ghost, close your gates, lock the doors.  ❞

❝ There is no hope. ❞

❝ How could the world take you from me? ❞

❝ They all deserve to burn with me. ❞

❝ What has the world come to when a demon defiles a witch? ❞

❝ Nobody trusts a word I say. ❞

❝ I can’t erase these memories, but I will erase humanity. ❞

❝ Erase humanity. ❞

forgiveness is weakness.

❝ He is finally dead; lets celebrate this day. ❞

❝ I hope you're born again so I can have my turn to beat you and cut you, put my curse upon you; to pass you down to my bloodline’s youth. ❞

❝ Revenge is sweet but so is disease when it turns you into a slave. ❞

❝ Gather your friends and your family so they can watch me spit and piss on your grave. ❞

❝ Forgiveness is useless. ❞ 

❝ It’s just another form of weakness. ❞ 

❝ This is for my family, let us have this moment. ❞ 

❝ And the ones who suffered with us. ❞ 

❝ We all know you're going to hell. Come back to life, I'll send you myself. ❞ 

❝ You don't deserve to be one with the earth. ❞

brimstone.

❝ Sleep with one eye open, you have no idea what I'm capable of. ❞

❝ My knife can stab more holes than you can count. ❞ 

❝ How dare you sleep where a king once slept, and dry the tears of where his queen has wept.   ❞ 

❝ Kill, torture, terrorize; welcome to my mind. ❞ 

❝ Terror comes in many forms. ❞ 

❝ And tonight I'm terror, you're my whore. ❞ 

❝ For now I'll leave you blind but still alive, so you can feel my presence stronger. ❞

❝ My inner demon’s thirsty. ❞

❝ You confirm to me the world isn’t safe. ❞

❝ My only worry in the world is that you can't walk on your own two feet. ❞

❝ 'Cause when you feel that last breath slip away, I won't get to see you fall down to your knees. ❞

❝ I sold my soul so long ago, so I could watch you burn. ❞

hickory creek.

❝ It's so hard to let go. ❞

❝ You can hear me but I'm invisible. ❞

❝ But if you dig out your eyes, maybe pain will subside. ❞

❝ The worst that could happen is you never see me again. ❞

❝ But the worst is yet to come, my friend. ❞

❝ This path I walk is comforting, but now I'm left to sing this song alone.  ❞

❝ I’m fading faster now. ❞

❝ I left so long ago. ❞

❝ You never noticed I was gone. ❞

❝ Now that you don't have eyes, maybe now you'll realize, within your own head, you're creating these lies.  ❞

❝ For what it’s worth, you’re still beautiful. ❞

❝ But beauty lies within the eyes. ❞

❝ It's time to walk away with nothing left. ❞

❝ Nothing left in my soul. ❞

❝ I've faded into myself. ❞

black bear.

❝ With this body, he is God and I am nothing. ❞

❝ He has come for the blood of my only son. ❞

❝ I can sense his heartbeat slowly fade. ❞

❝ The sound of my voice is his way to me. ❞

❝ I buried my tongue with my family's bones. ❞

❝ As I lay me down to sleep, I pray to the Lord to put me six feet deep . ❞

❝ Put me six feet deep. ❞

❝ Father forgive me for I have sinned, I know that we will all meet our fate.   ❞

❝ Even the beast of the underworld burns eternally within his own flame. ❞

❝ Now that you don't have eyes, maybe now you'll realize, within your own head, you're creating these lies.  ❞

❝ Sleep my son, feel my embrace. ❞

❝ Please don’t forget my love. ❞

❝ As the bullet goes through his brain, I wake up to live it again and again. ❞ 

we are one.

❝ Hallowed be thy name. ❞

❝ I scream these words as I slip into madness. ❞

❝ Someone pull me out. ❞

❝ I am many but numbers count for nothing, therefore I’m nothing too. ❞

❝ However, I’m a murderer, but I could be a savior and someone’s mother. ❞

❝ I’m a saint, a sinner and a child but we all still look the same. ❞

❝ And you’ll never know my name. ❞

❝ You will never take them from me. ❞

❝ We are one. ❞

❝ He’s just trying to help us, maybe we should listen. ❞

❝ Shut your mouth! You don’t know what’s best for us or anything. ❞

❝ What will you say the moment we all come together? ❞

❝ Tell him all the lies or speak the truth of what we are? ❞

❝ Accept what we are.❞

❝ The longer you fight, we become more. ❞

❝ You need this to be whole. ❞

❝ Suck it down, breathe out the smoke.❞

❝ Come back to what you know. ❞

❝ You know that we’re all powerful. ❞

❝ We are madness. We are one. ❞

the other side.

❝ I don’t think I’ll make it. ❞

❝ I take my ego and set it to the side; forget who I am, reevaluate my life. ❞

❝ Eternal doom is coming for me. ❞

❝ I don’t think I’ll make it. ❞

❝ Dripping sweat, I make my way to the other side. ❞

❝ I’ve got to make it out. ❞

❝ Through all the hatred and pain, I’ll stand by my brothers’ side. ❞ 

❝ We’ll overcome and make it out. ❞

❝ No regrets, no guilt or sympathy. ❞

❝ I turn my back on the woes of history. ❞

❝ Eternal doom is a distant memory. ❞

❝ I’ve finally made it. ❞

❝ Once in the dirt, now above the clouds. ❞

❝ I am now free, I am godlike.❞

❝ I am reborn, the universe is at my feet. ❞

❝ I am godlike. ❞

third depth.

❝ A fantasy awakes. ❞

❝ A dark desire to watch you slip away into oblivion. ❞

❝ I can’t wait to see your flesh turn pale, when I see the last breath you take fail. ❞

❝ Even with you dead, I still feel the pain. ❞

❝ In my heart, things will never be the same. ❞

❝ Now I must live out this dark fantasy. ❞

❝ I am not the mean I came to be. ❞

❝ Should I feel this way? I'm not supposed to. ❞

❝ I can't find it in me to care at all. ❞

❝ It's a shame we don't see eye to eye. ❞

❝ That’s why I am here to take your life. ❞

❝ Serenity never felt so empty. ❞

❝ Sanity never came back to me. ❞

❝ I'm not stable.❞

lovelace.

❝ Picking at my scabs again, I just want to see them bleed. ❞

❝ I am numb and dead inside. ❞

❝ Bring me back to life. ❞

❝ I don’t want to talk anymore. ❞

❝ Close my eyes and stop my heart. ❞

❝ Words only enhance the sound of what I don’t care about. ❞

❝ At what moment did you realize that I meant nothing? ❞

❝ When did everything fall apart? ❞

❝ Help me! ❞

❝ I’m begging, I’m pleading, I need you now. ❞

❝ Running away won’t get you found. ❞

❝ Flesh and blood runs deeper than this. ❞

❝ Help me find my way back home. ❞

❝ Father, can you hear me? ❞

❝ I’m trapped inside a nightmare. ❞

❝ Wake me up or put me in the ground. ❞

❝ Mother, can you see me? ❞

❝ I need you to be there. ❞

❝ All you ever need is to shove that needle deep and reach your eternal sleep. ❞ 

doom woods.

❝ In the night they call my name... ❞

❝ The moon is my light to a greater side of hell. ❞

❝ But I am already there, collecting my childhood nightmares. ❞

❝ She’s gone and I want to disappear, disappear. ❞

❝ Take me away into the trees. ❞

❝ I dread the sun to rise. ❞

❝ Bury me so the night will never end. ❞

❝ They say don’t walk to the darker side, but where the light shines, the devil is alive. ❞

❝ I’ve seen hell through a child’s eyes and I know in time, the devil I will find. ❞

❝ In time, I will escape. ❞

❝ In this place my soul remains encased. ❞

❝ The leaves have swallowed the sun. ❞

❝ My heart has reached absolute zero. ❞

❝ I have no one left; even my shadow has died on me.❞

❝ Tear him from his mother’s hands; turn this young boy into a man. ❞

❝ Don’t you cry for him now. ❞

❝ Now his destiny’s found. ❞

❝ The devil will find you. ❞

❝ The devil I will find. ❞

#ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɴ ᴀᴅᴅɪᴄᴛ ɪ'ᴍ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴛʜᴜꜱɪᴀꜱᴛ ♘ ( meme. ) #rp starters #lyrics starter #lyric starters #rp starter #meme starter #meme #memes #rp meme #( so i made this thing and it's hecking long ok ) #( but i made it bc i want people to know that metal music has ) #( amazing lyrics that are deep and brutal and soooo beautiful ) #( whitechapel's new album is sooo good and if you like metal please listen to it ) #( this is not a beginner album for those just diving into metal ) #( it's heavy and brutal though there is clean singing ) #drug use tw #drug tw #drug abuse tw #overdose tw #child abuse tw #abuse tw

[annes-andromeda]

GOT Virtues AU: Not Enough to Understand

N/: So, I’ve finally written a chapter for Tyrion. I’m mostly gonna go by his arc in ADWD, but take out things like Young Griff and Jon Connington. As much as I believe those characters to be very vital to the books, this AU goes mostly by showverse with hints of the books and my own additions. However, some characters from ASOIAF will be incorporated here, just maybe not the same as the books. Tyrion has never really been my favorite character, but he’s definitely an interesting one. It sucks that the show turned him into a Dany cultist that licked her boots and kissed her ass. So, hopefully I’m writing Tyrion and Varys correctly. Also, please don’t think that I’m trying to villainize Tyrion (even if that may be the route GRRM is taking. But I’m not him sooo...), I’m just trying to show that he’s currently in a dark state of mind.

Somehow for Tyrion, the soils of Essos were more frustrating than the pile of shit that was the Seven Kingdoms. Ever since he strangled his lover with his bare hands and shot his father with a crossbow, somehow he’s never been the same. And yet somehow, the minute his brother opened his mouth and spoke of his first wife, of Tysha... somehow that hurt more than any slurs Tywin Lannister could ever reprise.

I trusted him, Tyrion thought hatefully. My big brother who was my protector, was no more than a liar.

The walls of Pentos where Varys had sneaked him away were beautiful no less. A perfect grave for a drunken lion. To drink himself to death seemed far sweeter than returning to Westeros where Cersei would surely want his head. But the Spider gave him another alternative.

“You have a choice, my friend” Varys had said, “You can stay here at Ilyrio’s palace and drink yourself to death, or you can ride with me to Meereen, meet Daenerys Targaryen, and decide if the world is worth fighting for”

The Dragon Queen. Tyrion had heard stories of her. How she liberated the city of Meereen and its slaves, ending the practice for good. But he had heard other stories as well. How she crucified the masters and burned men alive with her dragons. Common folk told of the Queen Across the Sea, a woman who walked with fire and left nothing but ruin wherever she trailed.

Tyrion didn’t know what to believe. So many tales, so many rumors. The people of Kings Landing spread whatever words they spoke to entertain themselves from the early graves that awaited some of them. Such as naming Tyrion the Demon Monkey. Or Sansa the Traitors Daughter. He hoped she was safe. Wherever his lady wife had gone to escape her fate. And to escape him.

But the one he thought of most was his oldest companion: Cira. His dear lioness that mewled sadly as she was taken away from his cell the day of his trial. She had been left in the Red Keep, wandering alone. Tyrion no longer seemed to care of hope, but he prayed to all the Gods that she was safe. That neither Cersei or anyone else had gotten hold of her. If he were to ever find out of her death or much worse... may the Gods help them.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Once leaving Pentos, Tyrion and Varys began their journey to the so called free city of Meereen. Before doing so, they had to go through the streets of Volantis, as Varys stated that the road to Meereen was in Volantis. Bored of the confinement their carriage brought, Tyrion decided to take a walk. If anyone were to ask his name, he’d be no more than Hugor Hill, a bastard of the Westerlands who wished to see the known world alongside his companion Rugen, a former servant of the Red Keep. Nothing more, nothing less.

The Long Bridge was filled with many people. Builders, merchants, and many, many whores. All were marked by their masters, their cheek defining who they were.

“Strange that the Mother of Dragons hasn’t stepped foot in this city, as many have claimed she is a liberator” Tyrion acknowledged

“Meereen has had its run of slavery since the beginning of its construction” Varys began “If Daenerys were to leave the city as it is, the masters would simply take it back, sending the slaves into their chains once again”

“Hasn’t Astapor already done the same?” The dwarf noted “From what my ears have heard, the city is in ruin while children are sold like cattle and slavery runs rampant. I would’ve been certain the dragon queen would ensure the freedom of the people she liberates. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The Spider simply remained silent, and Tyrion gave a look as if he’d won a great victory. As they walked the pavement, they heard the booming voice of a woman who spoke to the slaves almost as if she had cast a spell upon them. A red priestess of R’hllor, whose cheek was branded with the mark of a former whore, preached her teachings to the lowly slaves of Volantis.

“Lord, cast your light upon us” she spoke in Valyrian, as the crowd followed “For the night is dark and full of terrors”

Tyrion didn’t hear what Varys had said to him, as he’d moved closer to see and hear the Priestess’s words “I was once as you are now” she said “Bought and sold. Scourged and branded” She pointed to the mark on her cheek, the mark of a slave. A former slave now.

“The only red priest we had in King’s Landing was Thoros of Myr. This one’s much better looking...” Tyrion boasted. He had heard that Stannis’s red priestess was beautiful, with blood red hair and eyes that glowed like the ruby around her neck. Granted, he’d seen and heard of many beautiful women in his days: the Mother of Dragons was said to have flowing silver hair and eyes of amethyst, whilst he remembered Shae’s curves and her full lips that kissed him once. But yet, they were not the most beautiful of women. For Tyrion gave that achievement to a maid with sunset in her hair and whose gaze held the waters.

“The Lord of Light hears your voice. He hears the king as he hears the slave; he hears the Stone Men in their misery...” The red priestess continued

Tyrion could only scoff “Stone Men. Good luck stopping this spread of grayscale with prayer. You’d have better luck dancing away the plague” Varys shushed him before he could say anything else.

“He has sent you a savior!” The red priestess proclaimed “From the fire she was reborn to remake the world! The Dragon Queen!”

Tyrion looked over to Varys, putting on a false smile “We’re going to meet the savior! You should have told me. Who doesn’t want to meet the savior?” His voice reeked of sarcasm, and the Spider was not impressed by it. As he spoke, he could feel eyes looking directly at him, shooting daggers from their post. The red priestess had turned to gaze at Tyrion, and the dwarf hid his face from her.

“Let’s go” He warned, as he and Varys left the gathering. The atmosphere had turned casual once again, with only the chatter of the slaves being heard. Tyrion turned to look up at Varys “Tell me, Varys” he began “Do you believe in the prophecy of The Prince That Was Promised?”

Varys cocked an eyebrow at him “It’s a legend derived from the red priests of R’hllor, of how a great hero shall be born of salt and smoke to save the world from a terrible threat. Mere superstition created by fanatics who haven’t a mind of their own”

“And I suppose these ‘fanatics’, as you call them, believe that Daenerys Targaryen is this prophesied savior, yes?” He saw Varys nod his head, but then cock it back once he spoke again “Seems rather curious, does it not? I thought Stannis was this great hero the Lord of Light had gifted upon us. In the words of the priests, I mean”

“If every fanatic claimed that every person in the world were this great prince, then the whole world would be engulfed in flames of proclaimed freedom” Varys stated “Who is to trust the words of druid priests that worship a god who only ever wishes upon the sacrifices of his kin?”

“Apparently the kneelers gladly hold their faith in the hands of merciless gods and these ‘druid priests’” Tyrion insisted, his mind wandering to the different tales that lied across the Narrow Sea “It just seems rather interesting. I myself have read of the legends of Westeros so many times that they’ve grown rather boring and repetitive. Aegon the Conqueror, Bran the Builder, even my own house’s ancestor, Lann the Clever; their stories have be so overheard that even their graves must hear them”

Varys let out a chuckle of mockery and agreement. His own experience with sorcery and religious views have left him skeptical of such practices, along with the hatred of all that used magic. Tyrion wondered if the former Master of Whisperers ever despised the great houses due to their holding of the mysterious Virtues, whose power traced back to even the ages of the Children.

As the two walked through the streets of Volantis, Tyrion’s mind wandered to a brothel where Varys and him could not be noticed by any wandering eyes. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He could only think of his wife. Of Tysha. Somehow, Tyrion’s first thought wasn’t Shae, as she was a true whore compared to his first wife. A brothel wouldn’t ease his pain, no matter how many women he brought upon his bed.

Perhaps a mere book with a glass of wine will calm my suffering, Tyrion thought. Question was, where was he going to find a library in the mists of such a large city? The Temple of the Lord of Light could hold some scrolls for him to read through, but they’d mostly be filled with the teachings of the priests. And as if Varys would ever agree to going to such a place.

“You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s an inn in these parts, would you?” Tyrion asked, looking up to Varys

The man raised his eyebrows “I figured you’d rather be more interested in the confinements of a brothel?”

“No” Tyrion said abruptly “After everything that has happened, I’ve made the conscious decision to stay out of the whore house for a time”

“Well then, we can continue down this trail to a nearby atheneum where we’ll be able to blend in with the small folk”

“Perhaps I can indulge myself in some wine there”

“I thought you said you no longer wanted to take part in fornication. ‘For a time’, as you said”

“I never said I’d give up drinking”

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Once reaching the atheneum Varys had mentioned, Tyrion could hardly believe his eyes. He had heard that the library of the Citadel were home to many knowledge and tales, so he didn’t expect much from the atheneum in Volantis, which only held two stories yet books upon thousands of shelves.

Entering the establishment, Tyrion and Varys took their seats all the way in the back where no one would disturb them. The only people that walked trough there were the workers sorting the books into shelves or customers looking for a more interesting read. Either way, no one would ask them of their reasons to coming into the place, as they did not speak the common tongue.

Tyrion flipped through the pages of a dusty old book that read ‘The Blood Betrayal: Fall of the Great Empire’ in High Valyrian. He didn’t know much of the language, but enough to understand what some of the sentences said.

He turned to Varys, who scoured through the rippling parchments and scrolls that smelled like old leather “It says here that according to the people of Yi Ti, the Blood Emperor slewed his older sister, the Amethyst Empress, and his rule ushered in the Long Night. Apparently he slept with a tiger woman, feasted upon human flesh, and enslaved his people. And I thought the myths of Westeros were too theatrical”

“The YiTish also speak of the Maiden-Made-Of-Light, who turned her back upon the world whilst her husband, the Lion of Night, punished the wickedness of men” Varys added. Tyrion wasn’t really surprised of his response, as the man had grown up in Essos himself “The Essosi paint their gods in the forms of animals and great beasts, as they’ve never seen the deities with their own eyes. Perhaps their gods forms gives them some sort of pride in their religion”

Tyrion simply shrugged, and before he could come up with a witty remark, he noticed a librarian sorting some used books that were left by previous visitors. He raised his hand to get the attention of the man. Thankfully he noticed him or else he’d have to resort to introducing himself In Valyrian, which was not his strong suit.

Getting the attention of Varys so as to translate for him, Tyrion began “Hello” he said, as his companion repeated the greeting in the local tongue “I was wondering, if you could tell me what this creature is?” He pointed down to the page he’d stopped on, which held an illustration of a winged creature. Its wings looked as if they were burning, and it was emerging from a pit of flames.

“I can speak some of common tongue, if you’d wish” the librarian said

Tyrion raised his eyebrows and sighed “Well... that’s a relief. I don’t think my companion here would’ve been able to handle doing all of the work for me” Though he didn’t clearly see it, he could tell that Varys was rolling his eyes and quietly scoffing.

The librarian carefully took the book from Tyrion’s hands, almost as if he grabbed it forcefully, the whole thing would fall apart. He examined the drawing, and his face crinkled “Their presence lost to history, I’m afraid. But people of Essos spoke of them as ‘The Devils Daughters’”

“How come?” Tyrion asked

“Essosi believe that daughters were born in home of evil spirits” The man said, his voice frail and his common language quite broken, but still understandable “They thrived in times of dragons, some even believe that two were foes who battled for fires hearth”

Varys leaned towards Tyrion “Many strayed far from the Fourteen Flames because it is believed that The Devils Daughters made their homes within the pits of the volcanoes. It was also thought that the creatures cursed the pits if their common enemy were to ever return”

As much as Tyrion wished to speak on more vital matters, such as whether this Dragon Queen truly was worth his troubles, he couldn’t help but be intrigued “Where did the daughters come from?” He asked the librarian

The old man sat down and fidgeted in his place to get comfortable “The oldest legend is that seamstress from Yi Ti sewed gold string for Opal Emperor in days of the Great Empire. According to scrolls and writing, the monarch adorned silks with golden string, and payed seamstress for more. So seamstress worked days on needle, so much so that the string shined in sunlight and her talent spoken of across all Yi Ti ”

“Sounds a bit exaggerated” Tyrion muttered to himself

“However, Opal Emperor wanted more than gold. He was so impressed of seamstress’s work that he gave her the challenge of creating embroidery and turning it into jewels”

Varys looked as if he didn’t want to listen to the mans story. Tyrion could only guess that it was either he had heard it a thousand times or of the great distances himself kept from religious practices and fables.

“Now, seamstress argued that what the Emperor proposed was impossible, but Opal Emperor granted her a seat in his court if she were to complete his task. So, she stayed in her shop for days, and the days turned into weeks. Finally, the seamstress stepped into Emperors palace, where she presented embroidery to him and his council. Seamstress had created a bird, whose wings shined with not golden, but silver string and encrusted with what many believed to be sundrops and starlight. The Opal Emperor, impressed he was. Yet, he asked more of seamstress. He ordered her to take embroidery on the fourteenth day of her time within the palace and burn it in a pyre of all the spices her expenses could buy. On the day of burning, seamstress took embroidery upon fire and...”

He paused for a moment, his face showing an expression of wonderment and perhaps, even pure bliss. The old man looked to the ceiling as if he’d been envisioning the story while he spoke.

“And?” Varys cut the silence, stopping Tyrion from shaking the man out of his delusion.

“When the seamstress placed her creation upon pyre, the embroidery burst into flames, leaving nothing but ashes and cinders. But then, without tamper, a great miracle happened. Embroidery of creature, had become real. Embroidery, became Devils Daughter. No larger than her teat, the baby was frail, yet soon would be powerful. Upon third setting of sun and second rising of moon, Daughter had disappeared from seamstress’s shop. Never seen again, until Old Valyria found dragon”

The man got up from his seat, continuing with his previous action of sorting books upon shelves. Varys had little to no reaction, clearly thinking of the fable as nothing more than that.

Tyrion furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding why the man had decided to end the story so abruptly, with hardly any payoff “You wouldn’t happen to know the creatures diets, by any chance?” He joked “Whether they ate, just out of curiosity: lions? Preferably lionesses, on my end”

The image of his sister being devoured by this creature, every inch of her destroyed by its jaws as she joins their father in a place where their every sin haunts them, was something Tyrion gladly wished to see.

“I’m afraid not, good sir” The librarian answered, his voice hinting at slight annoyance. Almost as if he knew what Tyrion was truly asking “Lions we’re not perceived as good by Yi Ti because of Lion of Night. They saw beasts as omens of misfortune, and even death”

“Well” Tyrion exasperated “That’s rather disappointing” His eyed widened in delight when he saw that Varys had called for a serving girl to bring them two glasses along with some red wine. Pouring the drink into his glass, Tyrion took a sip, savoring the rich, sweet taste it produced inside his mouth.

Varys joined him in the pleasurable drink, taking a long sip from his cup “With the Daughters gone, the dragons are the rulers of fire. However, it seems that not even the flames wished to stay in their grasp. The Doom definitely is an example of that”

Tyrion looked at him in somber silence “You truly believe that the Mother of Dragons is the one to bring upon a new age of Westeros?” He asked

“Are the freed slaves not enough proof for you?”

“Neither of us were there when she liberated those cities, so how can you expect me to just join her cause and serve her blindly instead of believing that she chose to break chains for another reason?” Tyrion took another drink of his wine “From what’s been heard about Meereen, she nailed men to wooden posts where they roasted about the heated sun. I distinctly remember someone else doing something similar with the corpses of their enemies. And that someone just happened to be my father. Tell me, does House Reyne not ring any bells to you?”

“All leaders must inspire a level of fear upon their enemies. If not, it’ll make them appear weak. Too much kindness does not bode well in a world as cruel as this one” Varys circled his glass, making his wine move about the cup.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow at him “Come now, my friend, we both know you’re not that naive. What monarch who has inflicted pain to everything they touch has had their following last?”

“Would you rather have stayed in Pentos to drink yourself away?” Varys raised his voice “Would you have liked it if I’d denied your brothers request to set you free?”

“Don’t talk about Jaime” Tyrion sneered, his eyes darkening. Despite his outburst, Varys was not fazed.

“You may not like it, my friend,” Varys began “But the truth is that your brother is the reason you’re still living. Even after he had lied to you, think of why he did it. We both know you cannot truly spite him. Not after everything you’ve been through. And certainly not after all the people who are much more deserving of your hatred”

Tyrion didn’t speak. I want to hate Jaime, he thought. I have to hate him

“What’s the point of love and trust if the people closest to you just end up hurting you?” He got up from his seat to pour more wine, until the cup was filled to the brim “Love is pointless. It’s a disease that spreads more pain that any sword or poison in the known world. And to trust is to be willfully blind to the truth, all while everyone breaks a chunk off of you until your left with only the remaining pieces of your heart. I’ve loved and trusted for too long, and I’ve lost too much of my heart already. I’ll not loose my mind to foolishness such as love nor trust any longer”

Varys could only stare emotionless at him, then averted his gaze to his cup “So what will you do know? Replace love and trust with hate and deceit?”

“I’d settle for knowledge and revenge” Tyrion said simply “After all, it has a better ring to it”

“The Dragon Queen will not accept those who will hatch plots and schemes under her nose” Varys warned “Do you truly think that what you’re doing is wise?”

Tyrion turned to him, his stance wobbly due to the increase of alcohol consumption “Tell me Varys: you said that Daenerys Targaryen has three dragons under her control, yes?”

“Those are what my little birds and I report” His companion replied

“Dragons have scorn for their enemies. Raw and untamed scorn. The largest of them had teeth the size of swords. While a lion may not control the skies, it is the king of all beasts, who commands respect and fear upon its subjects. After all, ‘In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws’. Imagine Cersei’s terror when there comes a dragon and lion knocking at her door”

“Are you implying that your allegiance to the Dragon Queen is purely to spite your sister?” Varys asked

I never meant to imply it, is what Tyrion wished to say, but instead, his mind changed to another response “If that’s what you wish to think, go right ahead”

He put down his wine glass, which nearly tipped over and spilled “Now then” Tyrion began “I believe we should find an inn to stay. All this drinking has left my head reeling and my body tipsy” Varys seemed to want to argue, but he pursed his lips tightly that they seemed to disappear.

He didn’t even speak a word when Tyrion grabbed the book he was reading (among others) and sneak them into his tunic for future use.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

On the road to the inn, Tyrion spoke more about the Devils Daughters, and if they were real, he wondered what horrors he’d inflict on his Cersei and even his father if he were still alive. He could see that Varys was growing mildly concerned, but Tyrion assumed that he had heard worse.

What neither could have predicted, was that the halfman would be stolen away as a gift for the Dragon Queen herself.

#game of thrones #virtues au #my writing #tyrion lannister #varys the spider #anti daenerys #i mean #some might take it that way #but im just pointing out things shes legit done #so really its just criticism...