#spell of become rejected produce

[the-entity-down-the-street]

Turning H.P. Lovecraft into a fucked up carrot man for science (and entertainment)

#shitpost #vagueposting #body horror tw #h p lovecraft #my thoughts #memes #for science #for scientific purposes #for the lulz #twisting this man into a pretzel #spell of become rejected produce #my writing #self promo

[ay0nha]

Some Unholy War | Theseus Scamander (IV)

SUMMARY: Theseus was always talented in thinking clearly. Logically. He wanted you to be wrong, but your instincts pushed you to keep moving. It was the only way to stay one step ahead of Sinclair. It contrasted Theseus’ plan to stay put within the walls of the Ministry. You contrasted his very being. 

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x f!reader  

WORD COUNT: 1.1K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, flashback of sorts, mutual pining, semi enemies-to- lovers, always a protective Theseus, SLOW burn, etc.

A/N: HELLO. Again, this took me longer than I would have liked. So, rather than rushing it, I’m going to break it up into two parts...I’m going to take a lil break to get my head together, but I’m v excited in how this second part is going to go!!! So, stay tuned...As always, thank you, @kalllistos​​​​. Comments are always welcomed. Enjoy.

PART I, PART II, PART III

Effort was a comical notion.

Magic required it at times, just as breathing did. The effort now felt good, worth it. The icy air that reached the ends of your lungs stung. Yet, each breath was quieter, the effort only coming in the form of physical mechanics of pushing a warm breath back out that the air around you marked.

“Are you mad?” Theseus’ exclamation hadn’t taken any exertion. The pent-up anger almost made you flinch. Theseus yelled after you as you continued forward. He never begged you to stop; he told you. Sometimes you’d listen just to display your wit.

You were quiet, entering the idyllic fog, hoping it would swallow you whole.

“Keep up….” Your voice was airy, the instruction more for yourself. The memory was faded, your mind trying to hold onto it as it threatened to slip between your fingers.

It started in Theseus’ office—a muddled memory overlapping with the friction of everything around you. It was more a feeling, something foggy and unrestrained that called you forward. It felt a bit like apparating, where your body didn’t quite belong for the moments it took to find your footing again.

You scolded yourself for not seeing it clearly; that was the thing about divination.

Although studied meticulously, its real trait was its vitality.  It shifted and molded. Evolved.  It made even more concrete things seem like rubber, rejecting electricity with an uncanny ability to mold into shapes unknown. It was the type of thing that could be so exciting to happen just to become something so vague that it no longer held value to it.

Theseus’ words were drowned out as your ears produced a ringing. All you could hear was your shaky breaths, and all you could see was a faint familiarity with your surroundings. Even your stumbling steps backward felt practiced.

Your breath became labored as the hazy recollection returned. Even through the blur, you saw how the tips of his ears and nose burned red with frustration. It was a trait of his that remained as he rose so many inches he towered over you, and his hair curled the longer her let it grow.

The years did nothing to change it.

“This is it….” Your fingers fumbled with a curl at the nape of his neck. His hair was long, longer than he usually kept it. Time had gotten the better of him. How could you be so blind?

Theseus’ tirade wavered. He was supposed to be angry. He was supposed to do so many things, but your touch felt like an enchantment. It reminded him of how dangerous you could be.

The walnut of Theseus’ wand was always stiff, but it cast its spells briskly and powerfully. Ollivander told him it wasn’t rare to be drawn to the material, but it scarcely paired with dragon heartstring. Because of the extreme dominance of this wood, the core was stoic and gentle and had done Theseus well from the moment he received it. Yet, pressed against your chest to stall your next step, it felt that even the wand knew it was a misguided action.

“Don’t be foolish, Theseus.” You spat at the gesture. His wand only pressed into your chest as if trying to will away his emotions. “Don’t you recognize where we are?”

He shook his head. If he looked beside him, he knew he would crumble.

You tried to reason, “We couldn’t stay there. The Ministry—

“We’re going back.” Although his voice was steady, emotion wavered in his eyes. “I won’t fall into your trap. You can’t just—

“It’s too late.” You pushed forward, the wood digging into your clavicle with drive. “I’m ruined anyways.” The invariability of the words reflected your decision.  “By your hand or his.”

Theseus was always talented in thinking clearly. Logically. He wanted you to be wrong, but your instincts pushed you to keep moving. It was the only way to stay one step ahead of Sinclair. It contrasted Theseus’ plan to stay within the Ministry's walls.

You contrasted his very being.

“Why did you bring me here?” Anger drifted from Theseus’ voice, and the space it abandoned was soon tenanted by something else—a kind of endearment, muslin light.

Theseus first brought you there for a quiet you didn’t know you needed. It was ambient full of croaking creatures and twigs snapping from the pressure of unknown forces. It was a blissful oasis that lured you into its dark depths.

The environment was damp, still reflecting the country’s dreariness. It was hidden, though. A broken-off path Theseus—well, Newt—had stumbled upon in childhood. It was a good hiding place to play, to sneak, and for you to abuse.

“I didn’t see it coming.” It felt strange to admit your best-hidden secret. “Any of it.” Your eyes remained on Theseus, willing trust to transfer. “But I just couldn’t—I knew deep down, I couldn’t lose everything.”

One time, you came to read Theseus’ palm under the full moon—a silly excuse to feel the weight of his hand in yours. The times following grew, the touches still shy with adolescence but bolder in a discovery of emotion.

The memory was a shared favorite, an inside joke of sorts to make the other feel warmth in your fingers that spread to the center of your chest. You hadn’t meant to bastardize it, but its safety was all you could rely on.

“But this, I saw this.” You would continue until Theseus understood. You had told him of your vision all those years ago. It was your only justifiable proof. “This needs to happen.”

Recognition flashed across his features.

Theseus dropped his wand with a tight breath. Looking to the sky, he became lost in turmoil. Once his gaze hit the dirt beneath his feet, it did nothing to aid him. You watched his fingers pull through the hair at the back of his head as if unraveling an answer.

You spoke when his hand fit over his mouth in frustration. “You promised me.”

“We were teenagers.” He snapped, denying the truth. “What did I know about prophecies?”

“Enough to believe me.” You felt young again, begging Theseus to revert with you. You wanted to hear his reassurances, his bold-faced vows to remain by your side despite the trouble you found.

That holiday, you told him everything—your plans to run away, the images that flashed in your dreams of the future, and how he centered them all as an essential turning point.  It spilled out of you, and you couldn’t stop. At the time, the swampy place was at the core unbeknownst.

If Theseus had known, he may not have regretted the promise to always be there for you. No questions asked. It sounded embarrassingly naive. You could still hear how desperately he wanted you to believe him. Even then, you knew it would lead to something like this.

Even then, just as now, you diminished how well Theseus knew you. “What aren’t you telling me?”

#q #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander fluff #theseus scamander angst #theseus scamander x f!reader #theseus scamander #theseus #scamander #fantastic beasts fic #theseus scamander fantastic beasts #newt scamander x reader

[amandacanwrite]

The Violet Thread of Fate || Part Four: A Bath, A Temptation

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Join Taglist

POV || 3rd Person Alternating Between Gale and Elinna (tav)

Scenario|| Elinna Inklynn is an orphan with an uncanny ability to mess up even the simplest of spells. It's not her fault; she hasn't ever had access to a proper teacher. But she has had access to books, and she's read about a certain gentleman wizard in Waterdeep that may just be willing to help her.

She books passage on a ship from the Moonshae Islands and sails to Waterdeep, only to be rejected by Gale Dekarios. He doesn't take on apprentices.

But their paths become inextricably intertwined when an enormous Nautiloid targets the City of Splendors.

Word Count || About 5,300 Words

Warnings || Age gap (about ten years, both adults) description of pining for someone's body (Gale pining for Elinna.) Mentions of abuse and neglect.

A/N || I hope you all like this installment of Violet Thread of Fate! Apologies for what seems like a relatively low-stakes set of chapters, I am trying to do some set up for bring Halsin, Astarion and The Fox into the narrative, but I needed to get Elinna and Gale just a smiiiidgen more established for it to go the way I'd like it to!

Taglist || @verba-writing @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog @circusofthelastdays  @nourangul @crucibelle @fan-aaa-tic

A Bath

It was a cold breeze that woke Elinna. 

It slipped in from under the old wooden door; through the window, if it could be called that. It was just an opening in the decrepit masonry of the castle where she’d been left to rest. 

It took her a moment for her to realize that the lumpy hay mattress and the damp, threadbare blanket on top of her were not her lumpy mattress and damp blanket from The Nest.  For a moment she thought meeting Gale and winding up on the nautiloid was a dream; albeit a long winded one. 

But when she rolled over in the bed and pulled the blanket tighter around her to fight off the bitter cold of the coastal breeze, she opened her eyes for a moment. There in the moon-gray dark of the night she found a room she was not at all familiar with. 

She scanned the room in a half-awoken state, not thinking any real thoughts–more like bursts of impulse between the undulating waves of sleep that threatened to take her away in their churn. 

She saw the usual desk. The privacy drape. The almost melted candle. Her waistcoat had been taken off and neatly folded, set on the writing desk. Her bloodied boots sat in a pile not far away from there; her gloves tossed down with them, also bloodied.. This room wasn’t her room…so what…ah–that’s right. 

She’d been so exhausted she didn’t feel herself drift off to sleep. Gale had been carrying her on his back. Where was he? 

Another breeze blew into the room and set her teeth to chattering. Gods above, how was it colder here than at The Nest?

She rose to her bare feet, keeping the blanket tight around her as she shuffled over to the desk. 

She knew very few spells, of course. And most of them, she only knew with very little command–but there was one she was decent at, because she used it nearly every day. She could produce a flame.

Nothing terribly impressive, mind you–but it was more convenient than having to ask the ArchLibrarian for matches; more convenient than having him ask her why she was going through so many of them and finding out that she’d been sneaking books into her room to read while the others slept. 

She breathed into her cold hands before shaking them, encouraging her blood flow into her fingertips. After giving her hands a few moments to catch up with the rest of her, she focused on the fingertips of her dominant hand, she took a deep breath and plucked at the same little flicker of magic she always used for this little party trick. She snapped her fingers, and sure enough, a single flame engulfed the farthest knuckle of her index finger, as if her two middle fingers had been a flint struck by her thumb. 

She lowered that finger to the wick of the single candle in the room before shaking the flame off her fingertip the same way one might do with a matchstick. 

It was hardly enough light for human eyes, but Elinna didn’t need much. She’d been lucky to pick up darkvision from her half-drow lineage; an appreciated perk despite how much she hated the violet tinge of her scars and freckles. 

She caught a glimpse of those old scars on the inside of her arm and wondered idly if Gale had seen them. Wondered if he’d made any judgements of her based off of them.

The doorknob jangled and turned and Gale appeared in the doorway. Elinna looked over at him and was surprised at the flood of relief that filled her lungs. She hadn’t realized she was worried that he’d left her there and gone off on his own, but that was the only explanation she had for the shift in her sense of ease. 

He was holding two tin plates with porridge, boiled fish, and roasted carrots piled in small, tidy quantities. They met eyes and Gale’s eye’s flicked about her. 

“Oh–you’re awake,” Gale said, voice a bit choked with something she couldn’t identify.. “Are you feeling better?”

“Is your…hair wet?” she asked him. 

He was newly dressed in a similar robe to before, but this one was slightly different. It had a shorter length with a more open panel in the front. He was wearing some more sturdy leather boots as well, and he had a new multi-layered belt with a knife and short sword holstered to it. He carried two small packs over one shoulder, which he dropped onto the ground near the desk. 

“Oh, ah, yes,” he said, hurrying over to the writing desk to set down the plates. The scent of lavender and bay leaf rolled off of his warmer body with him in such close proximity.  “I went to refresh myself and see if I couldn’t conjure a few comforts to get us through the night. While searching, I happened to find a natural hot spring.”

“You’re kidding!” she said, feeling a swell of relief all over again. Not only would she get to have a bath but a warm bath? What a treat. “You have to show me where it is! I’m dying for a hot bath.”

“It’s not far–just a hop and a skip behind the–”

A click sounded from the door and they both looked toward it. Gale’s brow tensed before he walked back over to the door, testing the knob. A willowy voice came through the door a moment later. 

“Seeing as supper has been served and your lodgings are in order, we will be locking the door to prevent any unfortunate mishaps through the night,” it said. 

“Absolutely not–we’re guests, not prisoners!” Gale shouted through the door. “Unlock this door right now.”

There was no answer. 

“Open the door!” Gale demanded again. 

“Don’t bother,” Elinna sighed. “He’s probably already gone–don’t you have a spell that could unlock it?”

“Under other circumstances, but I’m afraid my capacity to reach into the weave is utterly tapped out until I get a proper night of sleep,” he said a bit sourly. “How did you ever put up with conditions like this?” Gale griped, turning to her, his brow still furrowed. “I’ve never met such learned men who were so…so…asinine.”

Elinna shrugged and leaned against the edge of the desk, her ample hips displacing one of the unfortunate looking plates. “You get used to it, I guess,” she said. “They never locked us in when I was at The Nest, but we also never really got visitors…maybe it’s standard protocol.”

“You’d think they had Karsus’s Grimoire locked up in their archives,” he said, smearing a hand down his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

While Gale had his conniption, Elinna was realizing with no shortage of disappointment that her hopes for a hot bath were all but dashed. Unless…

“Hey Gale…” She said as looked over toward the bath with a little pout. “I know you said you’re tapped out…but do you think you have the energy for a little cantrip?”

“Probably,” he said, looking skeptically at the plate of food and pushing the boiled fish with one of the wooden utensils given to them. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…do  you think you could conjure up some hot water for me to take a bath?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, what?” Gale said as he blinked, his brows shooting up. “With me in the room?”

“Please,” she begged gently. “I feel so disgusting. If I have to sleep like this while you’re sitting in here looking all sparkly and smelling nice, I’m going to feel even worse.”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “Elinna, you shouldn’t take baths with strange men you just met. Er–rather–with them nearby.”

“You’re not strange! You’re Gale Dekarios! And there are drapes for privacy,” she said insistently. “It’s not like I’ll be putting on a show for you or something.” 

“A Drape! Singular! And it’s holding onto its sorry, threadbare life by a thread!”

“Gale, what else am I supposed to do?” she asked. “I’m still covered in blood and sweat–I need a bath.”

“You can wait until tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll have our very bland supper–get some sleep, and–”

He met her eyes again and she wasn’t sure what he saw there, but whatever it was it seemed to pull on his heart strings. He rubbed the back of his neck before using the same hand to smear down his face. 

“Fine,” he said. “I got my chance to clean up, it seems only fair that you get yours. I can only imagine how wrong it feels with myself being properly tidied up and you still…well… I must emphasize, however, that this falls squarely outside of the usual confines of propriety.”

Elinna beamed and nodded eagerly, thankfully.

“Duly noted,” Elinna said. “I promise I won’t tell your mother.”

He leveled her a deadpan look. “Don’t patronize me,” he said. “It’s not about being afraid of my mother it’s–”

“I’m just teasing you,” Elinna said. “Don’t worry, Gale. I trust you to be a gentleman. And besides that–I’m pretty sure that you don’t see me as…well– I just mean–it’s not as if I’m trying to seduce you. If I thought at all that I was a temptation to you, I promise, I would wait until tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he agreed quickly. 

“I’ll be quick,” she said. “I promise.”

Gale heaved a sigh and picked up the other plate, handing it over to her.

“Let’s eat this unfortunate meal and then I’ll get your bath ready,” he said. “It looks utterly inedible, but we’ll need whatever strength we can get for the journey tomorrow.”

She smiled and nodded, taking a bite of the familiar mush on her plate.

A Temptation

Gale had always been told that hunger was the best seasoning–he supposed that didn’t apply to the fare served at The Scribe’s Guild. Yet he choked down every bite of those roasted carrots; that boiled fish–in hopes of prolonging the inevitable. 

If I thought at all that I was a temptation to you, I promise, I would wait until tomorrow.

Why hadn’t he spoken up then? Why hadn’t he argued with her further?

Well, likely because, in order for him to object to what she’d said, he would have to admit his own embarrassing thoughts of attraction to the young woman. Admit that he had been having plenty of improprietous thoughts about her as he had her hoisted up on his back–when his hand had supported the softness of her waist.

He told himself it was a strategic move. That he needed her in order to safeguard against what might be catastrophic down the road. The true resurrection in his possession would do little good without someone available to cast it, after all. He needed an ally and he wouldn't risk losing one because he was touch starved and lonesome and…er… long deprived.

He told himself that the sooner she bathed, the sooner she would be properly dressed. The less he would have to remind himself to look away from the delicate skin of her chest and the way the neckline of her muslin dress fell off her shoulders despite the number of times she pushed her sleeves back up where it was meant to sit. 

Now that he thought about it–very little of her clothing seemed to fit properly. Her waistcoat fit well enough, but her dress was oddly loose; she seemed to swim in it. 

He was glad he’d been able to find something for her to wear, hoped that they fit properly and that she didn’t mind wearing Mystra’s colors–and slightly outdated fashions. Then again, he doubted The Nest cared much about the current trends in women’s clothing. 

When they were finally finished eating, Gale begrudgingly prepared a hot bath for Elinna, the act simple, really–even with the majority of his energy spent. It was a simple enough process and, if he was honest, seeing her face brighten when it was done was almost enough to make it worth the discomfort of feeling like a rakish cad. He conjured some light in the room to make it look more like a lodging and less like they were thieves sneaking around by candlelight.

She was practically buzzing with excitement to get in, so he leaned over and handed her the smaller of the two packs he’d put together. 

“I put a change of clothes in here, I think it should fit, but let me know if it doesn’t,” he said. 

“Oh! You…just have women’s clothes laying around?” she asked.

He gave her a withering look. “It sounds awful when you say it like that. No, not just lying around. It’s an old gift from…a friend. It’s one of the old cleric robes that followers of Mystra used to wear.”

“Really?” Elinna said, green eyes widening. 

“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “Any imbued magic is, unfortunately, long gone. But it should be a little nicer than the leathers and canvases you’ve been wearing. They don’t seem well suited for travel…”

A lie, of course. Aside from Elinna’s boots, her clothing was more than suitable enough for traveling. But the longer he’d thought about the scars on the delicate skin of her wrist and forearm, the more his stomach churned at the idea of her putting those garments back on. 

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much, but it did. It still did–even while she was dressed down to her tan dress and leather trousers; even as she barely looked like she belonged to the strange order that was putting them up for the night. 

He was still trying to figure it out as she hurried behind the privacy curtain and started to undress. 

He wouldn’t have known she was undressing–except the lighting he’d created in the room was just placed well enough that her shadow cast against the threadbare drape as she pulled her muslin dress up and over her head. The light caught the softness of her waist, the gentle, sloping curve of her breast before it peaked at her nipple.

He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her. He would just need to distract himself. 

He told himself it wasn’t Elinna in particular that was pulling this silly desire out of him; that if could have been any member of the fairer sex that had this effect on him. Elinna just happened to be the convenient, ever present option. 

He insisted that had to be the case as he heard the quiet slosh of Elinna stepping into the hot water and heaving out a comforted sigh. He took a book out of his pack to distract himself from imagining what she looked like flushed across her shoulders and her chest from the hot bath water. He glared down at his book about foraging in the wild as he tried not to wonder if the comforted sounds she made in the bath would be the same if she were touched in just the right places. 

“So–shall we get to know each other better?” Elinna asked from her bath. 

Gale nearly jumped out of his skin, teeth grinding. 

“Elinna, don’t speak to me while you’re bathing,” he said, his tone clipped. 

“Why not?” she asked him. 

He heaved a sigh while bunting the heel of his hand against his forehead. Mystra grant him strength. “Elinna, I don’t want to be an ass, but are you so far removed from civilization that you can’t glean why it’s not appropriate for a bathing woman to be holding casual conversation with a man?”

There was a moment of silence, the sound of water being poured, the faint trickle of movement in the tub. “I mean–not that far removed, no,” she said. “I used to sing in the taverns back in Moonshae. Plenty a drunken man has told me what parts of me he wanted to see and well…they weren't my eyes, let me just say that.”

“So then why the play at naivety?” Gale asked, resisting the urge to turn toward her. “You clearly know why it could be a problem to talk to a man while you’re nude. The…intimacy of it.”

“I suppose I just…thought you were above such things,” she said. “I just thought that our unique circumstances lent themselves to bending the rules of propriety just a bit.”

Gale sighed. She was right–he should be able to act with a little more decorum than the drunks at the taverns. He should be able to extract a more distilled version of his maturity and be able to speak to a young woman without thinking so much about the shape of her body and what it would be like to feel it under his hands. 

“Gale?” she asked. “Are you angry?”

“No,” he said, turning a page in the book he was reading without really seeing it. “Sorry, it’s just been a while since I’ve had such constant company. Most of the time it was just me and my tressym, Tara. She was stimulating company to be sure, but it’s been a while since I’ve had more human companionship. I admit I’m not used to it.”

“I’ve never really had it,” she said. “I guess that’s why I’m so keen to fill the silence. It’s hard not to be excited to have a friend.”

“A friend…” he said, repeating that word again. It was the second time she’d called him that since they’d met. 

“Oh–” she said, her voice getting smaller. “I suppose that is a bit presumptive…I’ve done it a couple times already, too. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Gale said. “If I’m honest–I just feel a bit guilty because I’ve hardly been a good friend to you. It doesn’t feel like I’ve earned the title.”

“You’ve been a splendid friend–perhaps not at our first meeting, but every moment since,” she said. “You tried your best to keep me safe from the Nautiloid even though you barely knew me. And then you offered to accompany me to try and figure out what to do about these parasites…”

“To be fair, you’ve been a great help to me, as well,” he said. “You helped me out of that pocket realm and found this place; got us room and board for the night.”

“That’s what friends do,” Elinna said easily. 

“Elinna,” he said. “Since we’re friends…can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure,” she said. 

“Those scars on the inside of your wrist–”

There was an abrupt sound of something heavy plunking into the water, like she’d dropped her hands into the tub to hide the scars he’d mentioned. 

“I don’t have to ask about them if you’d rather not talk about it,” he said. “I’m not trying to pry, or to bring up something painful…”

“No, it’s okay. I suppose it’s only fair that I be honest about it if we’re going to be traveling together,” she said. “Mm–what’s your question about them?”

“Did your caretakers at The Nest do that to you?” he asked. 

“Tney did,” she said. “A long time ago, the ArchLibrarian at The Nest wasn’t very kind. When I was six and he was teaching me how to read, he used it as a method to deter me from failing.”

“Hells,” Gale said under his breath. “I can only imagine how well that worked…”

He heard her laugh a little and for some reason it hurt his heart. “Not terribly well,” she admitted. “But I needed to learn to read in order to be able to return the archives to their homes on the shelves. That was when I started sneaking literature into my room at night, so I could practice reading on my own.”

“Did the punishments stop after that?” Gale asked. 

“Well–that particular ArchLibrarian died and a new one took over,” she said. “So the caning stopped, but other punishments took its place. Sometimes I’d be sent to bed without supper, or if I really made an error I’d be tasked with handling the rats and spiders in the cellars. It only took one bout of paralysis for me to do everything I could to avoid that particular punishment.”

“How did you make it out of there with all of the…earnest fervor you have? If I was in such a situation, I feel like I would have disappeared within myself.”

“You see my overcoat out there?” Elinna asked. 

“Yes.”

“If you open the breast pocket there’s a little locket inside.”

Gale hesitated for a moment, feeling odd about rifling through her things, but he finally carefully looked through the folds of canvas and leather until he found the piece of jewelry. 

It was a lovely, delicate little thing. It was about the size of a gold piece and fastened to a velvet choker that was worn threadbare in some places. It had been handled a lot, almost like someone had rubbed their thumb against the plush fabric habitually. The pendant was a dark metal with almost a violet sheen to it. There was a thin sliver of a crescent moon on it with a couple sitting on it as if it were a hammock, cradling a child between them. 

Elinna’s name was written in Drowic on the seam of the locket. 

“It’s imbued with drow magic,” Gale said. 

“Mhmn,” she responded. “Powerful stuff, too. I’ve never been able to find someone to open it. That locket is the last thing my mother gave me before leaving me on the steps of The Nest.”

“Why not just find a wizard to do it for you?” Gale asked. 

“I tried to,” she said. “But the last one I spoke to told me it may have some sort of bond with my blood–that I’d have to be the one to open it.”

Gale examined the piece a little closer, feeling out the weave and the threads of magic, following their winding paths. 

Whomever Elinna had spoken to had spoken true, the threads all coalesced on her. Any wizard worth his salt would know that trying to manipulate that magic might destroy the item all together. 

“Do you think your mother was a wizard?” Gale asked. 

“I don’t know,” Elinna said. “I think I’ve just always hoped that if I could get it open, I could find where I really belong.”

The orb in Gale’s chest reached out for the thrumming weave in Elinna’s locket. He rubbed his free hand over his chest where the bundle of magic growled for the item, as if a bit of petting could soothe the burning hunger there. 

Not this one, he told the netherese shred of magic in his chest, just a bit longer and I’ll get you something we can use.

“So that’s why you came looking for a teacher,” he said. “And why you wouldn’t settle for someone who could teach you simple folk magic or healing magic.”

“Yes,” she said. “And why I was hesitant about your offer to introduce me to another teacher…but…well beggars, choosers.”

Gale heard her take in a deep breath and then a small splash as Elinna dipped beneath the surface of the water. While she soaked out of earshot, he carefully put the locket beneath layers of fabric, careful not to leave it out for the sun to get to it and hurt the magic sourced from the underdark. 

He was having a hard time not getting distracted by this girl. This was always his plight; he was always far too empathetic to deal with stories like Elinna’s. He was a bleeding heart for people who were unlucky and downtrodden–people who were alone in life and had no one to encourage them. 

Gale had the sudden wish to take her back to Waterdeep–to introduce her to his mother who somehow always had extra love to spare. It wouldn’t have been the first time his mother made up for a lack of love in one of his friends’ lives, but Elinna perhaps deserved it more than anyone else. 

He heard Elinna resurface and heave out a sigh before starting to get out of the tub. 

“Done already?” he asked. 

“I promised I would go quick,” she said. “Besides, it feels strange to talk to you without looking at you.”

He focused down on his book as he listened to the faint shift and twinkle of the clothes he’d fetched for her. He heard the faint little grunt as she dressed, the sound of belts being unbuckled and buckled once more, and then she came around the privacy drape, newly clothed. 

Her amber hair fell in damp ribbons down past her waist, her face was faintly flushed with the warmth from the bath. She looked comfortable and at ease in her new clothes, though he somewhat regretted the reminder of Mystra on the tapered ends of her skirt and the collar of the leather padding. 

“Feel better?” he asked. 

“Oh, so much better,” she said with a soft breath. “The clothes are a bit tight but…I also don’t have many clothes that properly fit me. Does it look okay?”

She turned this way and that. 

The truth was, she looked fetching in it. The greens and tans of the Scribe’s Guild livery may have done more for the verdant quality of her eyes, but the pale violets and ashen chainmail of the cleric’s robes made the color of her coppery hair all the more vibrant, and paired nicely with the almost mauve quality to her freckles. 

He chose not to think of the ways the openings of the skirt cleared a path all the way up to her thigh, and thought even less on how well the lines of her violet trousers followed the full curve of said thigh. 

“It fits you like a glove,” Gale finally said. “Nothing looks too tight from where I’m sitting. 

She smiled at him and heaved a happy breath. “Thank you again for giving me something new to wear,” she said. “It feels good to be clean again. I was worried I’d be stuck in blood stained clothes.”

“Happy to help,” he said with a pressed smile. “When I have a bit more energy, I’ll get some more comfortable lounging clothes for you to wear so you don’t have to sleep in armor.”

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “At least, I can put up with it for now–probably better to be safe than sorry anyway.”

“You should never underestimate the importance of a good night’s rest,” Gale said. 

“Speaking of which, you should probably get to bed, don’t you think?” she suggested. 

“Me?” he asked. “No, I meant you.”

“I’ve already gotten some sleep, I’ll remind you–you on the other hand, have not,” she said. “And besides, there’s only one bed.”

“I’ll sleep on a bedroll on the floor,” he said. “You take the bed.”

“I’m not tired,” she said. 

“First of all, yes you are, I can see it in your face. Second of all, this is likely the last full night of sleep we’ll get for a while, considering soon enough we will have to take turns keeping watch. So you take the bed.”

“I think I may be able to out-last you,” she said. 

“Do not,” Gale said. “Make this a competition.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?” she teased. 

“Afraid neither of us will get the sleep we need because I’m terribly competitive. My mother won’t even look at a lanceboard anymore,” he said. 

She laughed and the sound brushed up against some long forgotten impulse in the back of his mind–one he’d put away a long time ago. 

“Okay, fine,” she said. “I’ll take the bed, but I still haven’t gotten much of a chance to get to know you better–you already have a full catalog of my childhood and all of the piteous stories that go along with it.”

She walked over to the bed and sat back down on it. 

“Lie down and I promise to tell you all about my childhood–though I’m afraid it’s not nearly as tragic as yours….it may feel more like I’m bragging, actually,” Gale said. 

“Hmm,” she said. “I think I can put up with a bit of bragging. I like listening to you talk.”

She laid herself down on the bed and turned onto her side to look at him, folding her arm under her head to use as a makeshift pillow. “Regale me,” she said. “No pun intended.”

He barked a soft laugh. “Careful with telling a man like me that you enjoy listening to me talk,” he said. “I’ll take far too much advantage of something like that.”

“I do, though,” she said. “After a life spent in a library, you can’t blame me for enjoying the simple pleasure of a good conversation.”

“Well–there will be no shortage of good conversation with me,” he said. “The only thing I’m better at than magic is talking–gratuitously.”

She chuckled and his heart fluttered a little as she looked at him with sleepy eyes. He got started talking before he let his mind drift to the last time a woman looked at him like that and what activities may have preceded or followed that look.. 

He told her about his youth–about how he was such a gifted young wizard that he’d caught the attention of Elminster, and then Mystra herself. He left out the part about taking Mystra as a lover. He skipped his inevitable folly and luckily, by the time he got to that part of his story, Elinna had already started gently dozing off between sounds of acknowledgement in regards to what he was saying. 

With time, her quiet mhmn’s and uh-huh’s ceased and he was almost certain that she was crossing the threshold into a proper, restful sleep. 

He swapped from talking about himself to reading out of the foraging book to fill the quiet room so that she didn’t automatically wake in the new silence that took the place of his prattling. When her breaths became slow and steady, though, he set the book aside and got his bedroll ready for the floor. 

He’d be feeling the ache in his bones the next day, of course, but it was only what could be considered right for their sleeping arrangements. An older man shouldn’t share a bed with a young woman–least of all one he’d spent the better part of a day trying not to have improper thoughts about.

He dropped his concentration on his light evocations and sent a little gust of air to blow out the candle that more resembled a pool of melted tallow. His bedroll was close enough to the bed that he could hear Elinna’s rhythmic inhalations and exhalations. He looked outside as the moon hovered. Far away, he could hear the hush of waves crashing on the shore and for a moment he almost felt like he was back at home. 

He closed his eyes and let himself imagine that he was laid in bed with Tara curled up next to him and the promise of a warm cup of tea in the very near future. 

He couldn’t decide, however, if he was quite as homesick as he should be. 

As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but admit to himself that it was nice to have the warm presence of another person near him. He couldn’t help but admit that he had missed the closeness of another body–the camaraderie of a shared experience, however terrible this one had turned out to be. 

Maybe he could try taking on an apprentice again afterall.

#writing community #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #authors #my writing #vtf #violet thread of fate #gale x tav #fic recs #gale x tav fic #gale/tav #gale dekarios #gale fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate tav

[aurorawritestoescape]

The Devil in Me

Pairing: DEVIL!Dieter Bravo x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Genre: smut and fluff, Devil AU

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, porn with almost no plot, allusions to sa, reader struggles with self worth, praise kink, breast play, thigh riding, blood play, vampirism, unprotected piv, daddy kink, oral(f receiving), fucking the Devil, creampie, religious themes, men’s thighs)

Summary: being an aspiring actress but failing to succeed, you decide to use an unorthodox method to get the desirable money and fame. You perform a summoning ritual in order to sell your soul to the Devil. Lucky for you, he pays you a visit and happens to be devilishly handsome.

Word count: 4,3k

A/n: the moment I saw Pedro’s Met Gala look, this thot was nailed into my brain. Hence the fic. Big thanks to @ozarkthedog for giving me a necessary push with this post. English is my second language, sorry for any mistakes or general fuckupery of the story;) <3

As long as you remembered, your only wish was to become a famous movie star with millions of fans who worshiped you. So you took various and fucking expensive acting classes, went to dozens of auditions where you acted your heart out. And still every time another nepo baby got the job of your dreams. You felt bitter as hell. You couldn’t bear the rejection, the harassment, slimy hands and hungry glances of producers and agents. Under the pretences of helping you, they hunted for your body like predators and gave nothing in return. The debts were pilling up, and waiting tables at a lousy café didn’t promise you any financial stability. You kept jumping high but still couldn’t grab that lucky ticket in the air. 

So when, at a flea market, you happened to see an old spell book, it immediately piqued your interest. You looked through the pages and noticed a ritual called "Summoning the Devil to Sell Your Soul." You laughed at first but, to your own surprise, paid for the book and brought it home. It was on a whim. You didn’t believe any of that hocus-pocus shit, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

…..

You were in your rented one-bedroom apartment, sitting on the bed and reading about the preparation for the summoning. You let out a laugh. It was so easy. Make the room dark. Light some candles. Say the spell. And voilà! The Devil himself would appear and give you everything you wished for in return for your  precious soul. You didn’t think much of it. 100% that it wouldn’t happen. But if by some crazy magical supernatural chance it did, you’d be ready. Your soul had been torn to shreds by disgusting and power-hungry men, so you’d be happy to replace it with the long awaited fame and money. 

You followed the simple instructions: drew the curtains to keep the light of the sunset out and lit all the candles you could find at home. You looked around and found the atmosphere quite relaxing. The air was heavy with a sickly mixture of scents - vanilla, pine, strawberry. Yet it was hiding the greasy smell of the Chinese you’d had before. The candlelight bathed the room in a golden light, its flickering flames making shadows dance on the walls. You plopped down on your bed and placed the spell book on your lap. At the back of your mind, you were laughing at yourself for being such a fool. But to an outside eye you’d have seemed serious and focused. Your lips silently moved, reading the spell several times. Then you cleared your throat with a cough, said "Fuck it!" and read the spell loudly.

….

Nothing happened. You were still alone in your shitty room, shitty apartment, living your shitty life. It wasn’t a surprise. You sighed heavily, closed the book with a thump and threw it on the floor. You climbed on your bed, got under the covers and buried your head in the pillow. Disappointment was gnawing at your gut. How could you hope that ridiculous summoning spell would work? You shut your eyes, feeling the tears fall on the pillow beneath you. 

You didn’t know how much time passed. You were in that trippy state between wakefulness and sleep. Then your whole body twitched and chills covered your skin. You weren’t cold, quite hot actually because of all the candles. All of a sudden, you felt the weight on the other side of the mattress. You turned rapidly and saw a man sitting next to you on the bed. His back was leaning on the headboard and his legs were stretched out and crossed at the feet. You jumped out of the bed with a scream and stared at him paralyzed with fear, eyes round and breath unsteady. In contrast with your own reaction, he seemed relaxed. His dark intent eyes had a humorous spark in them, looking at you with amusement, his plump lips were curled up in a smirk. His skin was tan, the colour of caramel and rich honey. He had an aquiline nose, a salt and pepper patchy beard and a moustache. His dark hair was neatly slicked back. He was, without a doubt, the most handsome man you’d ever seen. But the most peculiar thing about him was his attire. He had a bright red coat with a red shirt underneath and a thin black tie. You glanced down to see that he was wearing black shorts which were covering little of his thick thighs. On his feet, he had black high patent boots with black socks peeking out. 

His smirk was replaced by a blinding grin and you heard his deep comforting voice. 

“Hi, darling,” he said, rolling R with his tongue, making the word sound delicious. 

“Wh...who the fuck are you?! Why are you in my apartment?!” you exclaimed in a panic, wrapping your arms around your middle. 

The stranger’s smile fell, and he looked at you with sad puppy eyes and furrowed brows as if you’d slapped him on the face. 

“You summoned me, remember?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes or your ears. With your voice lowered to a whisper, you asked him as if somebody could hear your secret, “Are you the Devil?”

His wide smile returned, making the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced. He opened his arms to present himself to you and announced enthusiastically, “Yes, I am! The one and only King of Hell, darling!”

 You were speechless.  What do people say in these situations? Would you like a drink, Satan? Why are you in shorts? It was crazy. So you kept standing there with an open mouth and widened eyes. 

Noticing your confusion, the Devil sat up, bent his right leg and started scratching his knee. “I understand your shock and all, but I’m a busy man, you see. People desire a lot of things these days. Thank God for consumerism,” he added, putting his hands together in a prayer and looking up. “Do you still want to sell your soul?” the Devil inquired as he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

You closed your mouth and opened it again. “Yes! But to be honest, I didn’t expect the spell to work …and you look like this…it’s a lot,” you explained to him while fumbling with the hem of your t-shirt.

At that, the Devil’s face fell, and he looked down at himself straightening his coat and shirt.

“What’s wrong with the way I look? …wanted to try something new. And I’ve been told that it’s very stylish,” he retorted, glancing at you sideways.

In truth, you loved the clothes and the boots, but his childish reaction amused you and, feeling a little bolder, you decided to tease him.

“Been told by who exactly?” you smirked at him. “Demons,” he replied with his plush lips in a pout.

“Ha! They’re telling you what you wanna hear. They’re kinda your employees.” You crossed your arms and continued your taunting, “And this lip ring. What’s that for?”

The Devil sucked in his lower lip, touching the ring with his tongue and replied, “It makes me look edgy”. You raised your eyebrows at him, “Why do you need more edge, man? You’re the fucking Devil!” Oh, you enjoyed it. At hearing that he shrugged, growled, took off the lip ring and tossed it in the direction of your wardrobe. He then stared at you with narrowed eyes, as if trying to burn a hole in your face. You almost burst into giggles, seeing him like that. The big bad Devil got bullied by a human girl.

By the look of you he must have realised that you‘d been playing with him and his grin returned to his face.

“Haha, very funny,” he said sarcastically and leaned his back on the headboard again. “Let’s talk terms and conditions then, style expert. You give me your soul, I give you what you desire. What is it you desire, darling?” he added with a luscious smile.

The endearment made you blush. You cleared your throat and replied that you wanted to be a famous actress. He nodded and waved his hand as if brushing away your concerns. 

“No problem! You will be, beautiful! We just need to make the deal, and you’ll be the happiest and wealthiest star till the day you die. You’ll live for many wonderful years, but when the time comes I’ll see you in Hell” he explained with excitement on his face. You were aware of that condition but hearing out loud about the prospect of burning in Hell for eternity made you drop your head in doubt, a surge of nerves making you pace the floor along the bed.

Seeing your unease, the Devil crawled to the side of the bed you had previously occupied and sat there with his feet on the floor. You took a step back and looked at him as your fear returned. He was the Devil after all. His exposed legs were spread widely, almost touching yours. His long coat was laying on the bed like a crimson cover. 

He took your hand and placed it between his big, hot palms. To your surprise, the physical touch made your core tingle and the heart skip a beat. 

“You know what, if you aren’t sure, I won’t pressure you. You can go through some more auditions, do a couple of tampon commercials and may be one day your fame will find you.”

“No!” you exclaimed, almost startling yourself. You knew what he was doing, painting your dream impossible to achieve on your own, but the desire to make it big was so strong, all you needed was the smallest push. “I  can’t live like this any longer. I want it here and now.” 

Then adoration and content blossomed on his face and your chest swelled. 

“That’s wonderful,” he purred. “Now we need to do the deed, and it’s done.”

You swallowed loudly. “The deed? Mmm… As in ‘to have sex’?” 

His gaze drifted lower, taking in your form in front of him, and he responded in a husky voice, “You shall give yourself to me completely and fully, and then you’ll be mine forever.”

Of course. Men in power always wanted a piece of you, why would the Devil himself be different? But in a weird way, you trusted Him more than anyone else to make your wish come true, and so you whispered “O… ok.”

His whole demeanour changed in a flash. His face darkened, previously adoring eyes got flooded with lust and desire, the soft smile morphed into a hungry animalistic grin. 

It scared you. You glanced down at yourself, suddenly aware of your old almost see-through t-shirt and sleeping shorts covering not much of your body. You’d felt too comfortable with him before, in part forgetting who it was in front of you. At that moment, the air grew hotter and heavier. The candle flames began trembling rapidly without any breeze and the whole room got darker, resembling a crypt. The Devil’s red coat and shirt looked maroon. 

He still had your hand in his palms and gently pulled you closer to him. You were all the way between his legs and the Devil moved his right leg, slid the knee between your legs, placed his hands on your waist and pushed you down, so you could straddle his right thigh. You grasped his shoulders to stable yourself. He wasn’t smiling anymore, his expression was determined and lustful. His plush lips found your neck and you whimpered. The Devil smelled like smoke and your eyes watered a little. He started leaving open mouth kisses on your neck, making your eyes close. Your chest was flush against his broad shoulder, and you were sure he could sense your heart fluttering. 

“I promise to give you everything you desire, darling. But before that I’ll  make you feel devilishly good,” he whispered, nipping on your earlobe. “Do you agree?”

You nodded, but he needed to hear it.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you replied, and a peculiar feeling rushed through your body. Your eyes darted down and you gasped, finding yourself completely naked. Your clothes just vanished. His lips left your neck, and he was leering down at you, devouring your form. “Fuck…you’re gorgeous.” The praise made your head spin and your core tingle. Chills covered your whole body and you shivered.

“All trembling for me,” he murmured. “Such a good girl.”

His hands snaked down to your ass, palming your cheeks and pushing you closer to his torso. Your clit rubbed on the material of his shorts and a quiet moan escaped your lips. The devil grumbled, hearing the sounds you made for him. You felt his huge bulge pushing into your thigh. He lowered his head, reaching your breast with his mouth, and started to lick and suck on your bud.

“Delicious little thing,” the Devil cooed at you between his ministrations. You needed more, so you began grinding on his thigh at a steady pace whimpering softly. Your movements made the hem of his shorts rise up, and you felt his bare leg with your cunt. You were so wet, making a mess of his shorts and thigh. You’d never been so aroused before, and the need for a release was overwhelming. Soon your body and forehead were covered in beads of sweat, your legs trembling from exhaustion. He was guiding you with his strong hands gripping your hips and kissing you wherever he could reach. Your clit was throbbing, and soon you felt your core tighten and the burning in your stomach increase.

“Fuck! m'go… gonna cum!” you moaned through heavy breathing. 

“Yes, cum for the Devil, baby!” he ordered and slapped your ass cheek, leaving a slight burn. Your head fell back, the spine arched, and a hard orgasm shook your whole body. The strength left you, so he continued moving your body, helping you to ride it out. When overstimulation hit, you fell on his chest. You put your forehead on his shoulder, as aftershocks shook you from time to time. 

“No rest for the wicked,” he said, and suddenly took your exhausted body in his arms bridal style, and plopped you on the bed carelessly. 

You got a whiplash from the rapid change of position. You were on your back, and the Devil climbed on top of you, straddling your thighs. The tail of his coat was covering your feet. You couldn’t help but gawk at him. A strand of hair fell on his forehead. His broad and tall frame was towering over you, and his looming shadow covered almost all the room. It made you feel tiny and powerless under him. One moment you could swear his shadow had horns and giant wings, but you blinked, and it was normal again. The devil was leering at you with hungry obsidian eyes and, feeling exposed, you tried to cover your chest with your hands. But by some invisible force, your hands were yanked over your head and held there tightly. As if being touch starved, the Devil began kneading your soft breasts. He twitched one nipple hard, making you scream, but the pain was replaced by pleasure when he put his mouth on the burning bud and circled his tongue around it. He wasn’t rushing it, sucking on each breast for a long time until you couldn’t take it anymore. Overstimulation made you squirm and rub your thighs together, as your cunt was crying for attention.

Happy with his work, the Devil set up again, admiring your abused puffy nipples.

“Daddy’s thirsty, baby. Will you help me out?” You bit your bottom lip when you heard what he’d called himself. It was so twisted and your stomach was overflowing with desire for him. 

But the question confused you. As if to give you an answer, he placed his hand on your belly and, following his gaze, you noticed long, sharp claws on his fingers. You were sure they hadn’t been there before. You swallowed loudly and squeaked, “Don’t hurt me, please”

His grin widened as he cooed at you, “Don’t worry, darling. You won’t feel a thing."

The Devil pressed his index finger below your belly button and made a vertical cut with his pointy claw. You gasped, although the pain was bearable, just a little sting. You saw drops of blood appear, and his eyes sparkled. He dropped his head to your belly and licked the blood, moaning avidly. He made a few other cuts and cleaned them with his mouth. Though a bit scared you enjoyed feeling his tongue just inches above your cunt. You desperately wished he would move lower. When he was satiated, his head fell on your stomach, and he caressed your thighs and legs with his now both normal hands, humming quietly. A strange wave of affection took over you. You asked him if he could free your hands. He looked up at you with an air of confusion in his heavy-lidded eyes. It seemed that he’d forgotten having tied you up at all.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he replied finally in a hoarse voice. When your arms could move, you began combing his soft silky hair with your fingers and gently scratching his scalp. The Devil purred. He was still rubbing your thighs so you knew he didn’t fall asleep.

“Are you ok?” you finally inquired as if you were just talking to your lover.

“No one ever asks me that,” the Devil replied as he looked up. He gave you a sleepy smile and still seemed to be drunk on your blood.

You were awestruck, thinking how much he was like a human man, aside from the claws and the blood thirst. You wondered if he was lonely but didn’t want to break the comfortable silence.

After a few minutes he sat up and you noticed that all the cuts on your belly disappeared. The lustful expression returned to his face once again.

"Thank you, darling. You tasted divine,” he whispered as he climbed between your legs. “Would you like me to fuck you now?” he asked, leering at your spread cunt and gently tracing your slick folds with his finger. 

“Yes!” You said louder than it was intended. 

“Then beg for it, baby! Pray to your Devil!” he ordered with a mischievous smirk. Your cunt couldn’t bear another second without his attention. “Please! I beg you, fuck me please! Make me cum!”

Your words seemed to satisfy him. 

“Oh, I’d be happy to. Lie down and enjoy yourself. Daddy’ll take care of you.” Then you felt two thick fingers enter you. You moaned, arching your back and your fingers grasped the covers. His digits were thick, but you’d been dripping on the bed for a long time, so he entered you easily. 

“So tight, darling. We need to work you open first to receive the Devil’s cock in all its glory.”

He was pumping his fingers in and out, curling them inside and pulling the filthiest sounds out of you. Then you felt his hot mouth on your cunt. He was lapping at your juices, swirling his tongue on your hardened clit and working his fingers. Soon he added the third and the fourth digit and fucked you steadily.  You never expected to stretch that much, but you guessed everything was possible with the Devil. He seemed to enjoy eating you out as much as you did, as he growled into your cunt, the vibrations taking your pleasure to the highest level. 

“Such a nasty girl, giving your soul and pussy to me,” he said, leaving your cunt for a second and licking his lips.

You whimpered at the sight. He was turning you on even more than you could imagine. Soon, his and your moans created a sinful harmony together

“God!” you cried out and he slapped your cunt with his free hand. “Devil, baby, not God!” The pain mixed with pleasure sent electricity through your core and another orgasm hit you. You gushed all over his hand and lower face and he drank you up like it was the tastiest nectar. Finally, you pushed your legs together to stop him from licking you. 

“Now you’re ready for my cock”, he said, sitting up, then grabbed your hips and span you on your stomach. Your face hit the pillows, and your body felt cold as the covers were soaked with your sweat and juices. 

“Elbows and knees, baby,” he ordered. The motion was so rapid you needed a moment to obey, but he impatiently yanked your hips in the air with his big hands.

You heard the rustling of his clothes and then his cock landed on your ass. By the weight of it, it was huge. You turned your head to get a peek and saw his enormous erect member with red angry tip leaking precum on your ass cheek. You got nervous, and he smirked at that. 

"Don’t fear, my dear. I’ll be gentle." 

That was a lie. One moment you felt his tip at your entrance, and in the other he plunged his hard length into you to the bottom. You yelped, suddenly feeling full to the brim. 

“Mmm, such a greedy pussy. Sucking daddy in so well.”

His first push made your front slide forward on the bed, so his arm circled your middle to keep you still, the other hand pushed between your shoulder blades, making your spine arch even more. He started fucking you with strong and deliberate thrusts, and the bliss in your core made your eyes roll back. Loud moans were leaving your open mouth as you were drooling on the pillow. You could sense every vein of his thick cock, and his tip was pushing at your cervix, causing a delicious ache. 

“You gonna come again, baby”, he said and it wasn’t a question. “I can feel you squeezing me. Let daddy help a little”.

Suddenly you felt pressure on your clit. You looked down but didn’t see his hands as they were still holding you in place. The invisible force returned and began circling your bundle of nerves in tight strokes and gently twitching your nipples. You didn’t need much time to reach the third orgasm. Every nerve was electrified, making your limbs and torso shake uncontrollably. Your cunt was flattering around the Devil’s cock and that made him growl, “Yes, that’s my girl.”

The invisible hands left your body as soon as the muscle strength left you. If not for him holding you by the waist, you would have plopped down on the bed. His pace increased and the slapping of his hips on your ass was getting faster. At last, he started cumming. You felt his cock pulsate inside your channel, filling you with his hot seed. He was pumping his cum and your juices back into you vigorously accompanied by lewd sounds and his snarls. Some time passed and he was still going. You were completely spent, and your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. When he finally stilled and pulled out, he lowered your hips gently and laid down next to you. You felt his cum leaking out of your hole.

Then the Devil took you in his arms, so you could rest your head on his chest, and he covered your legs and ass with his coat to keep you warm. 

He pinched your chin with his fingers and tilted your head up to face him. You were looking at each other with gratitude and satisfaction. His dark eyes were trailing the lines of your features as if they were constellations in the sky. Your breath was once again stolen by his beauty.

Then the Devil kissed you. His plush lips were first gentle, but when his tongue slipped inside your mouth, he tightened his arms around you and kissed you hard. He tasted like something sweet and spicy. You were glued to each other for a long time, and you purred in his arms. It was a parting gift and at the same time the kiss sealed your destiny. When the Devil’s lips left yours, you whined. He smiled at your greediness.

“Before you go to sleep, we need to sign the contract, darling”. You followed his eyes and saw that he was holding a big parchment. 

“Let me help you, baby.” He took your hand and put your index finger in his mouth. A sting made you wince. He pulled it out and pressed your fingertip onto the paper. It left a crimson mark on the contract.

“That’s it. Now you are mine forever,” he explained with a soft smile and licked your finger making the bite mark disappear.

You furrowed your brows looking up at him, grabbed his tie and tugged him closer to your face.

“Wait. You told me that we just needed to fuck to seal the deal. Was it even necessary?”

He chuckled and then whispered in your ear “Well darling. You’re so stunning. How could I not? You should’ve known better than to trust the Devil.

You giggled and pushed your face into his neck. He still smelled like smoke, and you thought that it was your favourite smell in the world. You closed your eyes and soon drifted off to sleep. 

When you woke up, the bed next to you was empty, the candles had burnt out and the morning sun was peeking through the curtains. You sat up and wondered if it all might have been a dream. The contract, the Devil and the best sex of your life.

But the next moment your phone buzzed with a call and, when you picked it up, your whole life changed. 

😈

Thank you for reading! <3

Comments and reblogs are appreciated💋

Part 2

#dieter bravo x reader #pedro pascal #met gala #pedro pascal fanfiction #devil au #pedro pascal met gala #dieter bravo #devil!dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dark!fic #fanfic #pedro pascal characters #the bubble

[remuswriting]

in these private moments; mercelot

Summary: Merlin holds all his secret close to his heart. Lancelot loves him no matter how many secrets Merlin shares.

Pairing: Merlin/Lancelot

Rating: T

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Canon Era

Word Count: 762 words

Note: The only thing I have finished in months lol.

read on ao3

Something Lancelot has had to learn is that Merlin holds his secrets close to his heart.  He holds them so close that his secrets are safely wedged between his ribs.  He won’t expose anything that will produce a consequence.  Although he’s revealed secrets to Lancelot through tears and guilt consuming him whole, there’s still so much left unsaid.  This makes every moment like this with Merlin a blessing.

Merlin’s head is in Lancelot’s lap.  His hair is in need of a trim and fans onto Lancelot’s trousers and out of Merlin’s face, making it easy for Lancelot to see the light freckles scattered across Merlin’s noise.  His eyes are focused on his spell book.  Only recently has he been able to get it out while Lancelot is around.  That fear of judgment and rejection fades as the days pass.  He no longer hides himself from Lancelot, but asks if he wants to stay while he studies.

Merlin looks at him when Lancelot brushes stray hairs out of Merlin’s face.  His eyes are the bright blue that make clear Camelot skies pale in comparison.  He’s so pretty, especially when he smiles at Lancelot and presses his cheek into the side of Lancelot’s hand.

“Do you mind,” Merlin starts before looking back at the spell book. “Is it okay if I work on a spell?”

“Of course,” Lancelot says, and a thrill rushes through him.  He loves when Merlin does magic in front of him.  He loves hearing Merlin speak the language of the Old Religion and the way his eyes shine bright gold, resembling all the treasures Lancelot could ever be offered.

Merlin holds his secrets close to his heart, his magic being the main one, and Lancelot wants to tell him he can share it whenever he wants to.  He wants to tell him that he wants him to share it.  He wants Merlin to share that secret with him.

Merlin looks at him, eyes tracing Lancelot’s features to see if there’s any hint of a lie.  He slowly sits up, and the space he’d been laying in Lancelot’s lap grows cold.  He gets up, putting the spell book on the bed next to Lancelot (still open to where Lancelot can see the writing inside), and goes to get something from the corner of the room.  When Merlin turns around with it, he sees a bucket, which he’d always assumed was Gaius’s but had been locked away in Merlin’s room, treating it as a makeshift storage room.  The bucket is filled with dirt.

Merlin picks up his spell book, and there’s a hesitant look on his face when he looks at Lancelot.  Lancelot simply nods toward the bucket, making Merlin softly smile.  He turns his attention back to his spell book, extends a hand, and says something Lancelot doesn’t understand.  Nothing happens.  Merlin’s brows furrow as he mumbles something to himself and then retries.  This time, the dirt slowly turns to mud before becoming clear water.

Warmth spreads through Lancelot’s chest from how Merlin’s eyes glimmer gold, even if it fades quickly.  His smile only grows when Merlin grins, looking over at him so excited.  Almost as if saying, “Look at what I did.” Doing magic has always made Merlin light up and let him relax, almost as if he can finally breathe as all the tension leaves his shoulders.  He’s so beautiful that Lancelot wishes he could capture him in a painting so he’ll never be able to forget what he looks like.

“You did it,” Lancelot says, pride filling his voice, and he can’t stop grinning.

Lancelot yearns to pull him close and kiss him.  To kiss him until they have to stop.  He wants to hold on to this moment for as long as he can because he fears it’ll be fleeting.  He moves and grabs Merlin’s wrist, pulling him closer.  The spell book falls to the floor as Merlin willingly comes.  Merlin’s smile makes their first couple of kisses clumsy, but then he properly kisses Lancelot back.  Lancelot holds Merlin’s face in his hands as Merlin steadies himself by holding onto Lancelot’s shoulder as they kiss again and again and again.

Merlin holds all his secrets close to his heart, and Lancelot knows he’ll never be able to know all of them.  He knows Merlin will never be able to share all of them.  But in these moments, where it’s just them and their love filling the air they breathe, he’s okay with it.  He’s okay not knowing every secret Merlin has as long as he has him.

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #lancelot #merlin drabble #mercelot

[incandescent-creativity]

i know you've probably talked about this but can you wax poetic about their sun/moon dynamic again

Oh, god, these two. So, so defined by their upbringings.

Ash, an only kid with two loving parents and a devoted grandmother in the City of Vanithea. Doted on and encouraged and supported, delighted when she wanted to become an Auxiliary like her parents. And then having two thirds of that ripped away the day she got the job she had been chasing under their tutelage. The Auxiliary life, now soured by grief after her parents were lost on a voyage that the Auxiliaries sent them on. Ash’s entire world shattered. The silver constellation necklace, a tie to her mother’s sun necklace and father’s moon pendant, remains a physical reminder of it all that she never takes off.

Zach, part of a large family that had the space (both literally, on their farmland, and emotionally, making time for all of their children). Interests were indulged in just as heavily as the lessons on manners, teamwork, and practical knowledge were taught. There was hard work to be done, all the time, but there were just as many nights of laughter, song, and games. Life in Hillgate produced a young man quick with a sunny smile, optimistic to a fault, and almost completely unprepared for the gut punches that can come your way. His girlfriend breaks up with him, and he wakes up from his night of drinking with the sun shining down on him in a new city, across the ocean from his hometown.

At first, Ash helps him because of a sense of duty. He walked into her Help Center, she is going to help him. Then, curiosity—he came from where? And how? She forgives his irritating habits, his strangeness. He’s a new mystery to figure out, and that is more alluring than any irritation is.

And then they go further. They end up the only two humans in a foreign nation, trying to figure out what is going on and why everybody is refusing to tell them things. Then, further, they become the only two humans who look the way they do, the only two humans who have taken on the physical prices of spells. The are the first two humans who have golden scars from teleportations; Ash has horns and is taller than they remember; Zach has pointed ears and eyes that reflect the light.

Altered by a powerful magic ritual that revealed their fears to themselves and to each other, they have no choice but to understand the other.

And separately, they each decide to stick together. Ash can’t help but be reminded of the way she was, and Zach is a taste of that positivity back in her life that she would have denied that she was missing, and would have rejected if circumstances had not forced her to rely on him and speed run the insight that creates friendship.

And Zach is prone to making friends with people already, especially when he sees someone hurting like she is. But, more emotionally intelligent than Ash, he also recognizes that she is a kind of no-nonsense, harsher personality that he has only encountered in curmudgeonly elders around town. She is driven, and maybe a little bit mean, but she gets stuff done in a way that he admires and lacks in his own life.

And then together, they accomplish some wild stuff.

#flannelandsarcasm #incandescently answered #the dynamic duo #lore series

[americanredragger]

Look at this headline.

Just look at it.

Take all the time you need.

The Speaker of the House just did his fucking job and actually governed for a spell, and the psychos in his own party want him on the chopping block for it.

Why?

He worked with Democrats to make it happen. That's literally it. Bear in mind, he had no choice but to work with Democrats because said psychos made working within his own party impossible — he had been trying to pre-empt a shutdown EIGHT MONTHS AGO and the psychos, who controlled the Republican votes he needed to bypass the Democrats, turned down literally every offer he's made for 8 months. So, with time down to the wire and no option to acquire a solution in Republicanland, he hashed out a deal with the Democrats, because surprise surprise, not that many people outside the so-called "Freedom Caucus" actually WANT the government to shut down.

And now the Freedom Caucus is pissed off that he worked with "the enemy" to bypass them after they made every other solution completely unworkable.

This headline is VIOLENTLY American, and indicative of just how far gone right wing partisanship has become. And I do say Right Wing. It wasn't the Democrats who dismissed every offer out of hand. Sure they rejected many, but in a negotiating manner, trying to build something both sides could stomach enough to vote for. Meanwhile Matt Gaetz threatened the Speaker with removal if he did ANYTHING to avert a shutdown, ESPECIALLY if it meant a bipartisan bill, and now he will very likely try.

Kudos to the Speaker for having the balls to stand up to the psychos here (he DID allow them to run a baseless impeachment inquiry earlier, so let's not give him TOO MUCH CREDIT), and kudos for having the strength to produce a genuinely bipartisan solution, even if it is just a temporary patch job.

Thank you for doing the job you campaigned for. Like... that alone normally shouldn't be sufficient for praise in a sane era, but we're in an era that's anything BUT sane. Republicans doing the bare minimum to govern is itself a newsworthy event these days.

#politics #us politics #Kevin McCarthy #house speaker #speaker of the house #matt gaetz

[afrobeatsindacity]

BURNA BOY: RISE OF THE AFRICAN GIANT

In many ways, Damini Ebunoluwa Ogulu was always made for greatness, but for the longest time he was one of only a few who believed it. As it happens with those with the strongest wills, this inner conviction of who he was meant to be would prove sufficient to propel him to his destination. With his journey to the top of Nigerian (and African) music now complete, and as he soars to achieve a similar dominance at the global level, it is important to remember that, though he has slid into his star status with all the ease of a natural, his pathway to the summit was not always a straightforward one.

After a spell spent studying in the United Kingdom, which infamously ended in an arrest, Burna Boy returned to Nigeria to pursue his dream endeavour—music. The year was 2011, and Afrobeats—the dance-ready, percussion-focused medley of indigenous sounds with foreign influences—had taken flight. It was a pivotal time in Nigerian music, as the stars who had ruled the last decade—like D’Banj and 2baba—began to wane in influence, while the acts who would take the baton for the next decade, like Wizkid, Davido and Olamide, were taking the first steps of their careers.

In this mix, too, was Burna, and with neither the support of a major label nor an external source of financing in its place, he would have to make things work by himself. As a result of this, his earliest musical efforts, however excellent they were sonically, could not make a commensurate commercial and cultural impact. But he was not entirely alone. He was aided by his manager and mother, Bose Ogulu, who had some ties to the music industry; her father, Benson Idonije, was a music journalist who had managed Fela Kuti. Together with Aristokrat Records and its in-house producer, LeriQ, Burna Boy and his small band of creatives and executives sought to make a dent in Nigeria’s music market.

His earliest forays came via mixtapes. Burn notice: The Mixtape was the first of them, released in April 2011 on the strength of a few singles like “Remember The Titans” and “Wombolombo Something” that were making local ripples at the time in the Port Harcourt scene. He followed up in November with “Burn Identity,” and for this sequel he recruited national stars like Davido and Sauce Kid. These mixtapes were part of an elaborate build up to his debut album—in place of the EP format that is the more common route today. But before its arrival, he needed a spark, a breakout single that would establish him beyond the confines of his Port Harcourt base.

That would come in 2012’s “Like To Party,” which was as true a reflection of Burna’s carefree spirit as could be accurately transcribed in music. Set to dancehall and raggae production that favoured a more tranquil side of afropop, Burna created the perfect beachside song, turning the rejection of his affections—”I been begging but you no wan gree/ Say you you know want me” into a genuine excuse to craft the memorable, wild party. Ingredients like these are never wasted in the hands of the right chef, and Burna was able to draw from his uniquely guttural-yet-soulful vocal range and create what many regard to be his proper breakout single.

Burna Boy would bring all of this to his next release, “Tonight,” this time soaking in some sultriness to set this song in sensual waters. “Said tonight will be your night/ Gotta be doing something right,” he sings, as his chorus loops a single nonsensical word until it becomes the soothing balm for a Friday night’s groove after a work-filled week. For his efforts in 2012, Burna tied for first at the Headies rookie competition, which rewarded underground stars with a chance to perform on the stage of Nigeria’s premier music awards. 

His introductions now out of the way, it was time to unveil a much-awaited debut album. Succinctly titled Leaving an Impact For Eternity, it was supported by a quartet of pre-released singles, (“Like To Party”, “Run My Race”, “Tonight” and “Yawa Dey”) whose quality foreshadowed good tidings for the album—a bar that Burna and LeriQ had no problems crossing with its release. They were in complementary form, working in dancehall, hip hop, reggae and elements from Fuji into the 19 track LP (for its deluxe). LeriQ shone especially in his ability to craft pop songs without dipping into the explosive Ghanaian-tinged production that was all the rave back then, the cloth from which Wizkid fashioned the bulk of his Superstar album—ensuring Burna Boy could light up a party with every bit of his distinctiveness intact. 

L.I.F.E. was a scripting of Burna Boy’s status as he simultaneously affirmed his new position as an uprising star whilst arguing that he should be so much greater. You see, this drive, nearly bordering on discontent, has been the force behind his career, and the reason why his newfound material comforts—the fame and money—in no way slowed his momentum. Worsening economic conditions in Nigeria have made a few prospective endeavours choice paths for those seeking an escape from a harsh upbringing into a much better future. Music is one of these, but Burna Boy’s hunger has always been for greater things. 

This drive, like the flip side of a coin, is also his weakness. In 2014, a year after his debut album had established a place for him in the industry, cracks began to appear in his lean, mean team. The first of these would come in July, when he appeared to relieve his mother of her managerial duties via a now-deleted twitter post, in which he infamously announced it was time to "let my mother be my mother and let my manager be my manager". Bose Ogulu would come out a few days later and attempt to throw some clarity to this statement, but while that episode was still playing out, word came out that he had left Aristokrat Records, the imprint under which he had released all previous music. That turned out to have been a mutual separation following contract expiration and non-renewal, but it effectively meant he would have to record his album without his mother-manager, Aristokrat Records or LeriQ, its in-house producer. 

The result was about as bad as could be expected. Burna Boy had a rough 2015, most of it self-inflicted, so that at the time of the release of On A Spaceship, he had managed to threaten the media, exchange words with fellow artists, and berate award shows, and for anyone who had missed any of his shenanigans, he made the baffling decision of taping an interview of a journalist outlining his flaws and making it his album intro. That, save for the brooding, Fela-inspired album closer, "Soke", was the most exciting point of the album, the rest of which placed somewhere between forgettable and unoriginal. In the end it was clear that On A Spaceship, and the decisions that led to it, was a big misstep for Burna. 

He would then spend 2016 reversing the wrong decisions that had brought him here. He mended fences with Aristokrat Records and was once more back with LeriQ, and though he would still release future music under the self-owned Spaceship Records, he could receive A&R guidance from his former label. Less than a year after On A Spaceship, he released Redemption, an EP celebrating not just these healed rifts but his re-entry to the UK, 5 years after he had received a ban for illegal activity. Redemption was also the earliest attempt to ‘westernise’ his sound, as he and LeriQ slid even deeper into his low-tempo grooves, emerging with a grinding dancehall joint like album opener, "Pree Me". 

Redemption was not the instant return to top form that he might have envisaged, as it struggled to both reaffirm his national position and establish a foreign one in only 7 songs, but he was clearly making steps in the right direction. It would take two more years of work and creativity, and a return to Bose Ogulu as manager, for them to pay off, and this happened with his next album, Outside. It was named for Burna’s desire to stretch his influence beyond Nigerian and African borders, but it excels for his abilities to tie these diasporan visions to an African identity, a hurdle that Wizkid’s Sounds From The Other Side, also sharing this world-conquering vision, could not clear. In many ways, Outside was the birth of the Burna Boy’s superstardom: it was the perfection of the self-styled Afrofusion, where samples of Fela Kuti’s “Sorrow Tears And Blood” on “Ye” sit beside EDM on the titular track which sits beside the patois-dripping, ragga-influenced “Sekkle Down” which sits beside the ethereal, chest-thumping “Heaven’s Gate.” Burna Boy, the conductor of this mix, not only makes it work, but achieves cohesion in a way only he can. 

The album also housed the sleeper hit “Ye”, which, with a tinge of luck supplied by publicity brought by the homonymous Kanye West album, took off for what was his first global hit. Outside was also the first lap of a three-year, three-album spell in which he asserted himself incontrovertibly in global conversations. African Giant, which came next in 2019, was fueled by the same Afrofusion cocktail, and with the album (and the circumstances surrounding its name) he introduced the world to his grandiloquence and the talent that inspired it, before 2020’s Twice As Tall clinched for him a much-coveted Grammy and brought to a fine conclusion his intercontinental dominance arc.

With last year’s Love, Damini released in his new status as a bonafide global superstar, and then becoming his most-streamed project, Burna Boy has now all but completed what ambitions must have spurred his entry into music in the first place: A host of major awards in the bag, unforgettable performances at some of the most iconic locations in the world, a teeming fanbase more than ready to draw arms in defence of his  (many) gaffes. Knowing Burna, you would still not expect him to be satisfied. 

With great talent sometimes comes an outsized desire to make it known to as many people as possible, and an ever-throbbing impulse that tells you you can do even more. Burna crams all of this triumphant euphoria into his latest single, “Sittin’ On Top Of The World," and while it marks some deviation from his patented Afrofusion, we can rest assured that Burna’s plans for his next album and era will embody every bit of the excellence he has exuded at every stage of his storied career thus far.

This article was written by Afrobeats City Contributor Ezema Patrick - @ezemapatrick (Twitter)

Afrobeats City doesn’t own the right to the images - image source: Instagram - @Burnaboygram

#Afrobeats #Afrobeats City #Burna Boy #African Giant #Sittin on top of the world #Last Last #Ye #Africa #African music #Nigeria #Nigerian music #Afrofusion #Afropop #Afrobeats article #Brandy #New Music #Music #Spotify

[inkyvendingmachine]

Excuse me and my ignorance to y’all’s lovely creativity but I’m a big old dummy who is bad at connecting dots and seeing things without it being spelled out to me but what on earth did I just witness? (this is referring to the flower shop au) by the way I’m in so much love with those designs Joey and his whole vibe has my heart

Just puts this other "ask" here as an answer since I didn't really have any response to it as it answered itself.

ANYWAYS, Y E A H so hanahaki. This entire AU is centered around the concept; I forget exactly how it all came together, I'm sure it started as regular hanahaki discussions somewhere, but eventually I came to the idea of "what if there was a flowershop where Joey Drew manipulated people's feelings for each other in order to make hanahaki flowers to sell." and then spiraled from there.

There's a lot of different versions of Hanahaki out there, but I'll just sum up the half homemade version I'm using for this world:

People will gain hanahaki illness when they have a crush they feel is unrequited. It is a universal thing that's kinda at the like, cancer level of research: there's some ideas of how it happens, there's some ideas of how to fix it, but nothing has ever become 100% reliable or assured, and in general there's a lot of back and forth on what should be done.

Left untreated, over time the flowers will clog up airways, thorns will scratch up internal organs, and over time a person will slowly die to the illness as one way or another it takes their last breath.

Some insist that the best thing to do is just confess, find out and move on. But as much as this can lead to relationships working out and curing the illness, it can also lead to death if the person can't move on from a rejection.

There's some surgeries people can get to "fully remove the core of the blossoms", but they haven't proven to be 100% effective, they're very expensive, and tend to come at terrible costs, such as losing voice, having breathing issues, or other medical concerns from an extremely invasive surgery. And a lot of people think that the main reason they're effective is because the person is so distracted from the recovery that they don't care about their crush anymore, not that the surgery actually did anything.

So most people who catch the illness end up coughing up petals while thorns rack their insides until either they're able to come to terms with the truth, fall out of love again, or actually end up within a relationship.

Note, normally there's only petals. Thorns and vines usually don't escape either, they simply reek havoc within. Joey has learned how to coax out whole flowers and prune back the plant, which is why nobody is the wiser that these special flowers are hanahaki flowers; despite the world knowing about the disease, it’s never been known to produce actual full flowers.

#flowershop!au #hanahaki #have your pitch fee check ready #lmao i know it's like 24 hours after new game release so nobody is paying attention to au thonks rn #but answers these in the middle of the night bc im still obsessed with my own au

[barronshore0]

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#CRACKSARMY.COM

[jasonhackwith]

INTO THE FLAME I have gone, and I am not the same

The year was 1997.

The time was pretty bright for me. I was playing with a remarkable little band with fantastic guitarist (and guitar collector) Jasen Hecker and an amazing songwriter by the name of Ryan Mainard. We had big dreams. I was greatly inspired by Ryan’s excellent songwriting, and I wanted to write an epic song about an epic idea.

At that point, I had just begun working on a book that would eventually become Seven Dangerous Prayers. I was haunted by a single idea day and night: would I dare to ask God to do whatever He needed to do to refine me into the person He wanted me to be? Would I be so bold as to dare to ask Him to place my heart into the flame of his forge so that the dross could be burned away? Did I have the audacity to ask Him to be purify me and sanctify me, no matter what it took, no matter what I had to go through? Did I dare not to dare?

The idea enthralled me. I just couldn’t get it out of my head. In 1998 I wrote a song about it with that fledgling band called INTO THE FLAME (listen/download above), launched a website called intotheflame.com, and began my first tentative steps in working these prayers out in my life and the lives of those around me.

As I dove deeper into the Word, I found six other distinct concepts behind major periods of refreshing and renewal in my life. These seven concepts led me to seven Greek and seven Hebrew words that embodied each concept, and as I studied out each concept behind the prayers, I was amazed how these phenomenonally dangerous ideas were found everywhere, in every book of the Bible.

I became convinced that God longs for a profound intimacy with us. I also learned the hard way not to take these prayers lightly. These are not the “now I lay me down to sleep” kind of prayers. Nor are these prayers—or any other kind of prayer for that matter—some kind of magic spell or ritual that can get God to do what you want. No prayer ever has any power apart from God. That being said, let me be clear. These prayers, and the life-changing concepts behind them, are indeed dangerous for one reason: God is dangerous. God is so loving, He is so very good; yet God is dangerous because any real encounter with Him will leave us forever changed.

"Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people producing its fruits. And the one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; and when it falls on anyone, it will crush him."  -- Matthew 21:43–44

We have two choices, Christ is saying here: fall on Him and be broken, or remain apart from God and ultimately be crushed at the end of the age by the inexorable fact of that Presence. Jesus is speaking here of “the stone that the builders rejected” (Psalm 118:22, Matthew 21:42), the very kingdom of God, the stone that breaks or crushes. Here is a mystery to ponder: if God is truly unchanging (Malachi 3:6), simply being in His presence will change us, just as a diamond scratches all softer stones. As one of my favorite authors, Richard J. Foster, has said, ”To pray is to change.”

When I first started on this journey, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. When I first dared to pray the Prayer of Tears, for example, I was utterly naive about just how terribly different God’s compassion was from my own. I was a complete mess for weeks. I couldn’t even look at anyone without tears welling up in my eyes. My heart was so broken for everyone I met. But that bottomless well of tears was glorious because layers of callous indifference were shattered right along with my heart.

In time God brought balance to my emotions, but the overwhelming surge of compassion and empathy He poured into me had done its work. Before I dared to pray dangerously, I knew vaguely that He loves us, that He has compassion on us. When I dared to pray the Prayer of Tears, however, for the first time I really knew what it was like to have God’s heart for others. I didn’t just know how much He loved me and the people around me, I actually had some of that profound love for others. He immediately manifested himself in this: forgiveness which had before seemed utterly impossible that suddenly was easy and freeing. My love is terribly imperfect and I am daily learning more about His perfect love, but I would never go back to the way I was before.

When I moved to the Lewis-Clark Valley after college, I also began compiling some of my poetry in an anthological work that would eventually become the river Beautiful. I worked on both books off and on for years, but for far too many tedious reasons to list here, getting either one finished seemed utterly impossible. Despite the thousands of hours I had put into Seven Dangerous Prayers, I began feeling more and more strongly that I needed to finish this work of poetry and song lyrics first. At first I rejected the idea, thinking that perhaps I was just being egotistical. Surely the countless hours and all the Bible studies I had done were more important?

Then a counselor friend of mine, Rod Myklebust, made a comment to me one day that really shook me up. I prayed with Rod, and then he told me that he felt that maybe Seven Dangerous Prayers was just for me right now, not for anyone else yet, that I should pray through it to see where God was leading.

To be honest I was pretty devastated, especially with that coming from Rod, whose opinion means the world to me. I know Rod never meant it, but I got stuck on the thought that I had wasted most of my life, working on a book that was just for my own edification, not for anyone else’s. The black depression which followed was utterly crushing.

Lindsay and I had moved out of the Lewis-Clark Valley chasing teaching jobs in the North Cascades and the Oregon coast. I ended up getting injured pretty severely with a torn left bicep and torn rotator cuff. We eventually ran out of money and moved back to the Lewis-Clark Valley to regroup, but my depression and anxiety were worse than ever. I finally reached out and got medical help and counseling and have been slowly climbing out my present darkness, day by day.

I never thought myself a man of prayer, yet somehow I find that I have become one. It didn’t happen overnight, and it certainly hasn’t been easy. Between health problems, depression and anxiety these past seven years especially have been the hardest of my entire life. It is only through the faithful prayers of so many that I am alive today.

Brennan Manning, the beloved vagabond evangelist who transformed my life, said it best: “The Word we study must be the Word we pray” (The Ragamuffin Gospel, pg. 45). True, effective prayer is always founded and grounded in God’s Word. I dug into the Word again and kept on praying. I slowly began to see a little more clearly, and then one day God brought me completely up short with several sudden realizations:

Both books I had been working on for decades had seven chapters;

Each chapter in the river Beautiful corresponded perfectly with one of the seven dangerous prayers; and

It turns out that all the time I had been writing two books, I was really only writing one. I will release the Seven Dangerous Prayers Bible study in a year or so when it feels right, but for now, I finally know that this is what I’m supposed to do.

As soon as I came to that realization, I finally found peace with finishing the work. It makes sense for me not to just tell you how dangerous prayers have transformed my life, but to show you exactly how I have changed through my poetry and prose and illustrations. Since I finally figured out what I was supposed to do, this work has progressed smoothly and peacefully. It’s so very nice to have such a wise Editor.

I’m releasing a new signature design today entitled “NIL NISI CRUCE: “Firestorm” in the INTO THE FLAME store. All proceeds go towards supporting publication costs for the book.

#into the flame #vertical drive #jasen hecker #ryan mainiard

[babakagolo]

[phone] BEST FERTILITY PREGNANCY SPELL TO GIVE A CHILD IN AFRICA, THE USA, EUROPE, AND ASIA.

This is the best Pregnancy fertility spell with no side effects to give you children of any type of gender you want in life. WhatsApp or call Baba Kagolo at [phone] for Spiritual cleansing to heal infertility and bear to produce a beautiful and handsome healthy baby of your choice boy, girl, twins boys and girl, twin girl and girl or twin boy and boy It is your choice to choose a child you want. to get Pregnancy and fertility spells call [phone] Pregnancy is supposed to be one of the most celebrated things in this world. This is because falling to get pregnant means that you will not possibly be bringing someone into this world. But let me tell you, the issues related to pregnancy are very intense. People even fear getting pregnant nowadays. One of the reasons for that is a father rejecting the responsibility of a pregnant woman. Which woman wants to go through pregnancy and birth alone? Reverse infertility & be pregnant naturally using voodoo spiritual cleansing call [phone] to banish negative infertility energy Primary, infertility is defined as not being able to get pregnant despite having frequent, unprotected sex for at least a year [phone] Secondary infertility is defined as the inability to become pregnant or to carry a pregnancy to term following the birth of one or more biological children. Over 50 million people between the ages of 15 and 55 have difficulty getting pregnant or staying pregnant [phone] Use voodoo divination to communicate with the ancestors to understand the spiritual causes of your infertility. Cast a voodoo fertility spells to permanently heal infertility in men & women Protect your unborn child during pregnancy & have a healthy pregnancy using voodoo pregnancy healing spells Conception spells to promote fertility. Black magic spells for pregnancy. Fertility spells chants, pregnancy rituals and prayers for fertility Full moon pregnancy spells, fertility spells to banish miscarriages, candle magic fertility spells, Santeria fertility spells, traditional pregnancy spells, voodoo spells to get pregnant & improve your reproductive For more information Call / WhatsApp [phone], Email: [email protected] or visit https://sites.google.com/view/voodoospellcaster/home

[paulgodfreysblog]

Life producing “Fertility Centre Doctor” became to Life-taking plotter by engaging paid-killers!

Life producing “Fertility Centre Doctor” became to Life-taking plotter by engaging paid-killers!

Medical rivalry connotes no medical morality followed: Many times, old people used to say, “It is Kali kalam (Dark period), anything could happen”, as people started losing confidence in the governance, law and order and other connected issues. Now, commercializations of medicine and education have become hallmark of looting civil society. “Chennai Fertility Centre” has been functioning with much publicity, run by Thomas and Co in Chennai. Ironically, they have unit in Bangladesh also[1], as that country have more population, it is intriguing as to note why they have there. Now, news is coming that the same doctor engaged hired-murders to attack one of his team-doctors, that too, a woman doctor. A henchman wearing a burkha attacked a woman doctor with a sharp weapon at her house at Perambur on 04-10-2017 [Wednesday][2]. It is not known, why the paid killers should wear burkha and call. It was found that the owner of a fertility centre and four of his staff members had hired him to carry out the attack on Dr. Ramya, a fertility specialist, over business rivalry[3]. Police arrested all the six within a few hours of the incident. According to the police, Dr. Ramya used to work in a fertility centre on Nelson Manickam Road, owned by embryologist Thomas, for the past three years [i.e, since 2013]. However, six months ago [March 2017], Dr. Ramya’s sister Jeyanirmala, also a doctor, started a fertility centre at Jai Nagar, Arumbakkam, and she decided to start working with her sister. There is nothing objectionable, if sister started a hospital, her joining there and working.

Child-producing fertility expert turned murder plotting and life ending doctor: However, Thomas felt differently and tried to cajole her to be with his hospital. “Thomas offered her a better salary as patients coming to his centre had moved to Dr. Jeyanirmala’s clinic. However, she rejected his offer,” said a senior police officer. Angered over this, Thomas started threatening her. “He was doing this over the past six months. However, Dr. Ramya’s family did not take this seriously,” added the police officer. For this, that the learned doctor, who engaged in helping childless to have children, decided to kill Ramya. This clearly proves his culpability of mind, in spite of his education and status. Thomas discussed the issue with his staff and with the help of staff member Sathya Kala, he hired Palani alias Palanichamy from Tsunami Quarters in Ennore. He was asked to assault Dr. Ramya on the hand so that she could not practice [sic, “The Hindu”, nowadays uses wrong grammar and spellings also].

As plotted Dr Ramya attacked, but escaped and admitted in hospital: So paid-killers are killers only, they can take life only, as they cannot give life anybody. Thus, they had gone to kill Ramya. The incident happened at 10 pm when Dr Ramya reached her house on Patel road in her car. As soon as Ramya got out of her car, a burka clad person stabbed her. She suffered five stab injuries, said sources[4]. “On Wednesday night around 8 p.m., Palani went to her house wearing a burkha and waited on the stairs. When Dr. Ramya stepped out of the car, he ran towards her and attacked her with a sharp weapon on the hand. She sustained head injury when she tried to avoid the attack,” added the police officer. Dr. Ramya was admitted to a private hospital. Following a complaint lodged by her husband, a special team headed by assistant commissioner, Sembium, Arnold Easter probed the case[5].

Technology produces life and tracks criminals also: The investigating officer met Dr Ramya at hospital and she had informed the police about the threat calls she received from Dr Thomas in the past. So Thomas did not realize the modern technology of tracking criminals. “If life can be given, life can also be taken” were the principle for Thomas, his own phone calls fixed him to be caught. “Based on the information, we secured six suspects including Dr Thomas,” police said. Police noted that Dr Thomas had hired men to attack the lady doctor. Dr Ramya’s husband, Shanmugasundaram is also a doctor working in a private hospital[6]. “The relatives told us about the threat from Thomas and we secured him and his staff Yona immediately. Based on the information given by him, we nabbed his staff Sathya Kala, Bhavani, Palani and Mugilan,” the police officer added. Thus, the arrested plotters have been –

Dr Thomas

Yona

Sathya Kala,

Bhavani,

Palani and

Mugilan

Dr. Ramya is out of danger, the police said. Ramya Shanmughasundaram, who suffered multiple injuries to the head, hip and legs, was admitted to a private hospital. Doctors said her condition was stable[7].

Complaints against the hospital run by Thomas: There have been complaints about the treatment given in this hospital. A typical complaint has been like this[8]: “Beware of Dr Thomas at Chennai fertility center By: rkumarb1980 Posted Apr 20, 2013 General 18848 Views”: The blog gives the details – “After enjoying the real benefits of paying tax in the Western World, we are in complete shock and trauma of the Indian system which sucks all our hard earned money as tax and does not even provide good roads or drinking water supply or security for women. On top of these, there are medical institutions like Chennai Fertility Center who suck all our hard earned money. This fraud scheme run by Dr Thomas at Appasamy Hospitals in Arumbakkam is a real scam. We are still in shock how this chennai fertility center works by giving this 100% money back policy. It is a clear indication that Drs in india have started swindling from patients without giving any care. Healthcare is something you need when you really want it and we consider drs as gods in India, but these days they are just after money. The moment we met this Dr Thomas, he discussed about our profession and asked if we had savings so that we can avail this money back treatment. WT money back guarantee can a patient expect. Are we putting our lives at risk for these cheap tactics by these quacks. Who needs money back after getting killed. I dont know how this government is allowing these kind of cheap marketing by medical professionals. They say medical centers cant even advertise and I really don’t understand what is this. I kindly request govt to take necessary actions against these centers which are misleading poor patients into traps. Dear Dr Thomas, if you get to read this message, please understand that it is our hard earned money that you are stealing from us. It is not gambling business, its medical care. I hope you will understand or less please don’t practice any more”.

Criminalized ideology has to be eliminated to save Tamilnadu: During the last 60-70 years, particularly in Tamilnadu, the morality, ethics and other good values have been declining due to rabid propagation of atheism under the guise of “Analytical Wisdom” and so on. Religion has been the backbone and moral binding of people of civil society. When religion is attacked, morality is attacked and henchmen, rowdies, killers, thugs, hooligans, gangsters, brutes, ruffians, and others become preachers, vicars, rectors, unholy men, rational priests, atheist clerics and reverend criminals to spoil the society. And that has been happening last 70 years. The rise of crime could be correlated and corresponded with such ideology. Of course, at national level also, criminality has been exhibited in different ways. Tamilnadu is mentioned in the context, because, here, Kannaki, the embodiment of chastity, is respected as a woman and Goddess by all categories of Tamil speaking people and Dravidian ideologists. However, the “Tali snatching and cutting” has become order of the day. That is the target of Tali is directly against womanhood and married life, which are considered as sacred by the same people. Therefore, such criminal ideology has to be get rid off to sage Tamilnadu.

© Vedaprakash

10-10-2017

[1] https://www.facebook.com/cfcdhaka/

[2] The Hindu, Doctor stabbed in Perambaur, October 06, 2017. 00:55 IST; October 06, 2017. 07:54 IST;

[3] http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/chennai/doctor-stabbed-in-perambur/article19803988.ece

[4] DT.Next, Woman doctor stabbed over rivalry, Published: Oct 06,2017, 01:50 AM

[5] Times of India, Man in burqa stabs woman doctor, victim’s ex-boss held, TNN | Oct 6, 2017, 07:21 IST

[6] http://www.dtnext.in/News/City/2017/10/06015024/1048032/Woman-doctor-stabbed-over-rivalry.vpf

[7] https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/chennai/man-in-burqa-stabs-woman-doctor-victims-ex-boss-held/articleshow/60964742.cms

[8] http://www.mouthshut.com/blog/bfbhqrrlom/Beware-of-Dr-Thomas-at-Chennai-fertility-center

[jamesmitchinsonblog]

Life producing “Fertility Centre Doctor” became to Life-taking plotter by engaging paid-killers!

Life producing “Fertility Centre Doctor” became to Life-taking plotter by engaging paid-killers!

Medical rivalry connotes no medical morality followed: Many times, old people used to say, “It is Kali kalam (Dark period), anything could happen”, as people started losing confidence in the governance, law and order and other connected issues. Now, commercializations of medicine and education have become hallmark of looting civil society. “Chennai Fertility Centre” has been functioning with much publicity, run by Thomas and Co in Chennai. Ironically, they have unit in Bangladesh also[1], as that country have more population, it is intriguing as to note why they have there. Now, news is coming that the same doctor engaged hired-murders to attack one of his team-doctors, that too, a woman doctor. A henchman wearing a burkha attacked a woman doctor with a sharp weapon at her house at Perambur on 04-10-2017 [Wednesday][2]. It is not known, why the paid killers should wear burkha and call. It was found that the owner of a fertility centre and four of his staff members had hired him to carry out the attack on Dr. Ramya, a fertility specialist, over business rivalry[3]. Police arrested all the six within a few hours of the incident. According to the police, Dr. Ramya used to work in a fertility centre on Nelson Manickam Road, owned by embryologist Thomas, for the past three years [i.e, since 2013]. However, six months ago [March 2017], Dr. Ramya’s sister Jeyanirmala, also a doctor, started a fertility centre at Jai Nagar, Arumbakkam, and she decided to start working with her sister. There is nothing objectionable, if sister started a hospital, her joining there and working.

Child-producing fertility expert turned murder plotting and life ending doctor: However, Thomas felt differently and tried to cajole her to be with his hospital. “Thomas offered her a better salary as patients coming to his centre had moved to Dr. Jeyanirmala’s clinic. However, she rejected his offer,” said a senior police officer. Angered over this, Thomas started threatening her. “He was doing this over the past six months. However, Dr. Ramya’s family did not take this seriously,” added the police officer. For this, that the learned doctor, who engaged in helping childless to have children, decided to kill Ramya. This clearly proves his culpability of mind, in spite of his education and status. Thomas discussed the issue with his staff and with the help of staff member Sathya Kala, he hired Palani alias Palanichamy from Tsunami Quarters in Ennore. He was asked to assault Dr. Ramya on the hand so that she could not practice [sic, “The Hindu”, nowadays uses wrong grammar and spellings also].

As plotted Dr Ramya attacked, but escaped and admitted in hospital: So paid-killers are killers only, they can take life only, as they cannot give life anybody. Thus, they had gone to kill Ramya. The incident happened at 10 pm when Dr Ramya reached her house on Patel road in her car. As soon as Ramya got out of her car, a burka clad person stabbed her. She suffered five stab injuries, said sources[4]. “On Wednesday night around 8 p.m., Palani went to her house wearing a burkha and waited on the stairs. When Dr. Ramya stepped out of the car, he ran towards her and attacked her with a sharp weapon on the hand. She sustained head injury when she tried to avoid the attack,” added the police officer. Dr. Ramya was admitted to a private hospital. Following a complaint lodged by her husband, a special team headed by assistant commissioner, Sembium, Arnold Easter probed the case[5].

Technology produces life and tracks criminals also: The investigating officer met Dr Ramya at hospital and she had informed the police about the threat calls she received from Dr Thomas in the past. So Thomas did not realize the modern technology of tracking criminals. “If life can be given, life can also be taken” were the principle for Thomas, his own phone calls fixed him to be caught. “Based on the information, we secured six suspects including Dr Thomas,” police said. Police noted that Dr Thomas had hired men to attack the lady doctor. Dr Ramya’s husband, Shanmugasundaram is also a doctor working in a private hospital[6]. “The relatives told us about the threat from Thomas and we secured him and his staff Yona immediately. Based on the information given by him, we nabbed his staff Sathya Kala, Bhavani, Palani and Mugilan,” the police officer added. Thus, the arrested plotters have been –

Dr Thomas

Yona

Sathya Kala,

Bhavani,

Palani and

Mugilan

Dr. Ramya is out of danger, the police said. Ramya Shanmughasundaram, who suffered multiple injuries to the head, hip and legs, was admitted to a private hospital. Doctors said her condition was stable[7].

Complaints against the hospital run by Thomas: There have been complaints about the treatment given in this hospital. A typical complaint has been like this[8]: “Beware of Dr Thomas at Chennai fertility center By: rkumarb1980 Posted Apr 20, 2013 General 18848 Views”: The blog gives the details – “After enjoying the real benefits of paying tax in the Western World, we are in complete shock and trauma of the Indian system which sucks all our hard earned money as tax and does not even provide good roads or drinking water supply or security for women. On top of these, there are medical institutions like Chennai Fertility Center who suck all our hard earned money. This fraud scheme run by Dr Thomas at Appasamy Hospitals in Arumbakkam is a real scam. We are still in shock how this chennai fertility center works by giving this 100% money back policy. It is a clear indication that Drs in india have started swindling from patients without giving any care. Healthcare is something you need when you really want it and we consider drs as gods in India, but these days they are just after money. The moment we met this Dr Thomas, he discussed about our profession and asked if we had savings so that we can avail this money back treatment. WT money back guarantee can a patient expect. Are we putting our lives at risk for these cheap tactics by these quacks. Who needs money back after getting killed. I dont know how this government is allowing these kind of cheap marketing by medical professionals. They say medical centers cant even advertise and I really don’t understand what is this. I kindly request govt to take necessary actions against these centers which are misleading poor patients into traps. Dear Dr Thomas, if you get to read this message, please understand that it is our hard earned money that you are stealing from us. It is not gambling business, its medical care. I hope you will understand or less please don’t practice any more”.

Criminalized ideology has to be eliminated to save Tamilnadu: During the last 60-70 years, particularly in Tamilnadu, the morality, ethics and other good values have been declining due to rabid propagation of atheism under the guise of “Analytical Wisdom” and so on. Religion has been the backbone and moral binding of people of civil society. When religion is attacked, morality is attacked and henchmen, rowdies, killers, thugs, hooligans, gangsters, brutes, ruffians, and others become preachers, vicars, rectors, unholy men, rational priests, atheist clerics and reverend criminals to spoil the society. And that has been happening last 70 years. The rise of crime could be correlated and corresponded with such ideology. Of course, at national level also, criminality has been exhibited in different ways. Tamilnadu is mentioned in the context, because, here, Kannaki, the embodiment of chastity, is respected as a woman and Goddess by all categories of Tamil speaking people and Dravidian ideologists. However, the “Tali snatching and cutting” has become order of the day. That is the target of Tali is directly against womanhood and married life, which are considered as sacred by the same people. Therefore, such criminal ideology has to be get rid off to sage Tamilnadu.

© Vedaprakash

10-10-2017

[1] https://www.facebook.com/cfcdhaka/

[2] The Hindu, Doctor stabbed in Perambaur, October 06, 2017. 00:55 IST; October 06, 2017. 07:54 IST;

[3] http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/chennai/doctor-stabbed-in-perambur/article19803988.ece

[4] DT.Next, Woman doctor stabbed over rivalry, Published: Oct 06,2017, 01:50 AM

[5] Times of India, Man in burqa stabs woman doctor, victim’s ex-boss held, TNN | Oct 6, 2017, 07:21 IST

[6] http://www.dtnext.in/News/City/2017/10/06015024/1048032/Woman-doctor-stabbed-over-rivalry.vpf

[7] https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/chennai/man-in-burqa-stabs-woman-doctor-victims-ex-boss-held/articleshow/60964742.cms

[8] http://www.mouthshut.com/blog/bfbhqrrlom/Beware-of-Dr-Thomas-at-Chennai-fertility-center

[mandolinglockenspiel]

Marimba Origins

When one of Mandolin fissioned selves found a very regular looking pencil, she thought it would be a very good prank to cast a funny spell to transform anyone trying to use it. She didn't know, however, that pencil was actually a magic pencil made of cursed wood from a tree enchanted by some dryads. The unexpected confluence of the two magic types produced a magical reaction that left Mandolin reduced to an inanimate doodle in the ground. However, the doodle was magic enough by itself to gain life again and regain a third dimension, even if her previous identity was now rejected. And who was she now, you can ask. Well, she was Marimba, of course! With a new purpose to gain more complexity and stability, the doodle Marimba ended discovering her ability to suck the color from outside and inside of people and very secretly became the mysterious Director of that School to get easy access to lot of people using the sound magic of the School PA sound system. With enough SOUL sucking, I mean, COLOR sucking, Marimba finally became a fully finished toon girl! She even got another of her fissioned selves as one of the victims that "helped" her to be completed! How fun! Now, her new purpose is to avoid becoming the fairy again. She'll need greats amounts of TOON energy to overcome, with the use of fourth breaking abilities, that destiny locked curse that keeps making any Mandolin variant back into the fairy one at some point. And to gain all of that TOON energy, well, Marimba will have to go and cause some ruckus... Kind of constantly. The more the things change, the more they stay the same. -- You can support me on my Patreon! www.patreon.com/tfstories Or visit my Discord server: discord.com/invite/89dqVbedBq

#TF #MC #Transformation #Toonification #Doodle

[rpsocsandcanonohmy]

A Witch's Printing Office Muses

Claire

Claire is an experienced witch that specializes in fire and destructive magic. She was a part of a magic guild for some time but, after being unable to produce enough spells, she was rejected from the guild and moved back home to become a magic teacher for young students. After meeting Mika, she left the magic school and helped Mika open a printing press.

Mika

Mika is a bright novice magic user who hails from Tokyo. She was transported to a world of magic and fantasy creatures (though she isn’t very good at magic). Her biggest goal was to find a spell that would take her back home, so she opened a printing press and started organizing a magic and tome selling event known as Magiket (based on the real life event Comiket). She did find a way home but, due to a small mishap, she wasn’t able to make the journey. Now she focuses her energy on maintaining the press shop and a small bookstore.

Broadway

Broadway is one of the Knights of the region. However, knighthood is not all he expected it to be as there has not been a war in many years. While he is proud to have been chosen for it, he feels a bit let down that their most strenuous work is taking down a monster to protect a village. He found fulfillment in helping manage the lines and crowd at Magiket.

Lio

Lio is a member of The Pride, a species of humanoid lionesque creatures known for their bravery and physical prowess. He’s a bit soft and cuddly for a member of his species but he’s very strong and protective of his friends. His best friend is a woman named Kiriko, who he worked with as a mercenary for many years before he started working at Mika’s printing press.

Aile Tennos

Aile Tennos is the youngest member of the Tennos family, a famous noble family known for turning out the best magic users in the land. As such, there is a lot of pressure on her to be the best. She is also an aspiring author and works hard at editing and improving her work so that one day she might meet and even surpass her mother in popularity.

#do not reblog