#thirdemeritus

[vampyrra]

verona usually hunts on valentine's day when she doesn't spend it with her spouses. this year, however, she has been saddled with taking care of aurelio. her newest fledgling. she suggests a day of self-care, secretly hoping it would brighten up his mood - at least temporarily. the pair sit in the living room in her home, overlooking venice's canals. a city in which she used to govern in her human days. the couch is comfy and big enough to accommodate them both as aurelio is stretched out with his head situated in her lap.

her keen eyes overlooking his naked face as she uses a brush to dip into the face mask container. "hold still, my dear, or i'm going to get it in your eye," she chides gently. slowly and with great precision, she paints his face in an even coat. while skin care was no longer a necessity, the simple human comfort that once was is what matters most. she repeats the motion, admiring his youthful charm as he stares directly up at her. a gentle and genuine smile pulls at her concentrated look. "what is it @thirdemeritus ?" she asks and almost ruins her perfect flow.

[papalrot]

ˊ    👻        @thirdemeritus​

THESE DAYS,     ALL HE SEES IS A BRAT         ‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒         every  glance  at  the  old  avatar  was  enough  to  draw  his  ire  threefold,      a life time of subservience making him bitter to the man’s presence.             seeing  papa  under  any  other  circumstance  would  have  him  running  for  the  hills  to  avoid  him,   but  there  was  something  delectable  in  the  way  poor  terzo  refuses  to  meet  his  eyes.             

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬,  𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥;           lucavacchi’s  thin  mouth  curls  into  a  grin           ‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒         SLAMMING  HIS  HAND  DOWN  TO  CATCH  HIS  ATTENTION. 

❛❛     you’re  not,  eh,  not  avoiding  me           ‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒           are  you  ?   you’re  not  hiding  from  me,      right,       papa?    ❜❜        

[muutosarchive]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝: 𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞! - 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐚 𝐈𝐈 (𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥!)

“shit  •••••••• ”  the ministry floor is unforgivingly cold, & - not to mention hard against his chin - sunglasses clattering to the ground. a mistake to underestimate the sound of his brother’s footsteps speeding, juvenilely, behind him. he’d almost expected something half-way normal, to come of it. yet, his successor provides him no such alleviation, of his an ever present unrest. instead, his brother pulls him to the ground by his waist - slamming into his back, as though they were mere children. he’s papa, for satan’s sake... the true regality & finesse of his status seemingly lost beneath that... charming charisma.

if he didn’t harbor a soft spot, for aurelio, he’d have been met with more than a scowl, & a grunt. followed by a low, grumbling moan. such typical of an aged man, such as himself. having fallen on his hands, now allowing for his narrowed brows to be once again obscured by the shades. those which were previously lying face up, on the ground. jaw clenches, in the meantime, with a notable shift. eyes still narrowed somewhat as his skinny frame struggles under terzo - trying to push up, (albeit weakly). “--- you know, this behavior is unbecoming of a papa.” not like he should care. he’d lost his right to decide what is & is not becoming, of their bloodline. (as if the sort of behavior he engaged in, was much further removed from immaturity).  but, again - he can’t help but bestow some brotherly advice. if not simply to ankle-bite at his brother’s shortcomings. “now get up, you fool! & address tuo fratello like a man.” r’s roll fluidly - voice never particularly raising. trying to keep his composure... & he’s gesturing towards the roof with his index -- hard stare is directed forward, as the slope of his noise points annoyingly to the ground. his neck aches..  if he could throw his weight around, he would. fingers curling into fists, at his lack of control. “not as a little boy.”

‘ via the system of touch ’ .    /  /     @thirdemeritus​

[paleddeath]

@thirdemeritus said :  ❛ the wickedness of men is that their power breeds stupidity and blindness. ❜

       He’s  not  really  listening,  but  that  tone  is  there,    y’know?  That  serious,  dark  undertone  that  means  something  DEEP  or  pensive  is  happening.  Ah,  well.  

Copia  takes  another  sip  of  his  smoothie  out  of  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  the  straw  simply  hanging  there  for  a  moment.  “…smoothie?”  He  says  finally,  half  heartedly  holding  his  own  cup  out  in  Papa’s  direction.  He’s  not  actually  going  to  give  it  to  him  but  you  know,  the  gesture  is  there.  

Another  pause  of  heavy  silence.  “Um,  you  know,  you  sound  like  Sister  Imperator.  So…  

What’s  really  on  your  mind,  your  excellency?  Hm?  Humanity?  Humans?  Stupid  people.  Yes,  yes,  they’re  everywhere.” The  Cardinal  leans  back  once  more,  sinking  into  opulent  blood  red  cushions  while  wiping  a  stray  bit  of  strawberry  banana  smoothie  off  of  his  shirt  with  a  napkin. Messy  sweet  drink,  this  thing  is! 

[vampyrra]

terzo continues to improve, and in doing so, impresses verona (a task greater than most would think). his fangs puncture the veins correctly and blood pours like a generous fountain. "that's it @thirdemeritus ," she purrs, "don't waste not a single drop." her own meal rests tenderly in her arms as if her teeth coaxed pleasure and not unspeakable horrors with it's bite. scrutinizing leer drops to the pin pricks bleeding from her quarry's neck. easily, she raises the body closer so that she may feast more vigorously ; a satisfied guttural sound rumbles in demoness' throat. prey tries to squirm away with a whimper but alas hunter grips her tighter in her grasp with punishing strength. she will not move again.

gentle facade drops as soon as she's finished with the human and the corpse is tossed unceremoniously onto cold concrete. "what a sight you are," verona chides teasingly to the fledgling as she swipes the blood from the corner of her lips. "it'll become less messier the more you hunt, caro." makeshift sure crosses the space between them to wipe the streak of blood from his cheek. "how do you feel, terzo? sated?" her tone switches more seriously as she takes in his expression, darting between his eyes and bloodied mouth.

[hiveruled-moved]

@thirdemeritus asked: ∗ 23﹕ sender  straightens  an  article  of  receiver’s  clothes .

For choosing a career path where he'd be required to wear a suit and tie all the time, Kai hated dressing up like this. Everything felt RESTRAINING despite, if anything, it fitting looser on his body than it should. He hadn't gone out and bought one to get fitted in and had simply raided his father's closet, finding a couple of old suits that Scott used to have from his days of being a lawyer. They were all fair game to Kai now that he was dead. It wasn't exactly the first time he stole his father's clothing either, many of his sweaters also came from that same wardrobe. Easier than wasting time shopping at the store for shit that was OVERPRICED.

Kai is snapped out of his thoughts when he feels Terzo's hands straighten the tie he had messily thrown on, the gesture making his eyes roll back in surprisingly, only MILD annoyance. " You know, I agreed to this on the hopes that it wasn't going to be like regular Christian church. Why does Satan care if I wear this shit or not? " As ridiculous as the other man looks in all that face paint, it would've been preferable so long as Kai was allowed to dress in something more comfortable along with it.

[vileincarnations]

[  WHIP  ] for Profano! Perhaps he's misbehaved???

For 𝔑𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔦𝔰𝔬 𝔄𝔠𝔠𝔲𝔰𝔞𝔱𝔬 / 𝔉𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔬 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔬 ;

Every inch of Narciso's body is quivering and licked with a silvery sheen of sweat, his calves, back and buttocks are bedecked with crimson lacerations, and his heart thrashes like a trapped hummingbird in the hollow of his chest, if it were not for the glinting gold manacles and the yew cross he was yoked to ( with its violet covering and velvet upholstery ) he would have collapsed by now. His body is hypersensitised after a rally of lashes from his Papa's unhallowed hand, and his neglected cock ( pulsing, pleading, purpling with the need to cum ) is seeping a steady stream of pre-ejaculate, soiling his navel and the bespoke bondage device in the process. Suspended by slack arms ( cuffs and clasps chaffing against bruised wrists ), unsupported by buckled legs, he sobs out in excess: the sheer sensation of beads of sweat rupturing from his pores, of blood beading around his incised flesh, and the glacial kiss of cool air in the draughty chapel -- is too sharp, too bright, but he endures: staunch in his faith, steadfast in his trust.

The respite in necessary, but the reprieve is torture. Gulping in air with frantic gasps and gluttonous, guttural moans, no one would suspect he had subjected himself to this agony; that his weeping and wailing is not in pain, but in pleasure, that he gorges himself on sensation, prides himself on his ability to endure, preens like a peacock under such close scrutiny. Attention ( affection by any other name ) is his choice intoxicant, superior to the sedation of any alcoholic beverage, and a brighter buzz than any stimulant: ingested, inhaled or injected. Still reeling, his ragged gasps seem to be suspended in the air, a surreal echo blanketing the nave, whether a conjuration of the mind, or a condition of the ritual, he isn’t sure, but he donates his body willingly all the same. “Grazie, Papa,” he grovels. “Grazie, Vostra Impietà, per vostra misericordia.” And he grins a fucked-out-grin, blindfolded brown eyes misted with tears.

♡  SPICY  ACTION  PROMPTS  ; | no longer accepting.

[vileincarnations]

Infant!Terzo Starter from 𝔄𝔷𝔬𝔱𝔥 / 𝔐𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔶 𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩 ; @thirdemeritus

Now is not the time to fall apart. The piccoletto’s world is coming apart at the seams ( though he doesn’t know it yet ) , and someone has to stitch it back together, and with Nihil unravelling like a runaway ball of yarn, Azoth is the one who acts: taking the piciotto’s hands in his, with the promise of a creature comforts ( cioccolata calda, Fiabe Italiane da Italo Calvino, and a mantello to drape around his bony shoulders ) and somewhere quiet to linger. It’s enough to coax il bimbo from his father’s side - and Azoth reduces his pace, mindful of tiny feet trundling along next to him: of frightened eyes flitting about the cloister, flinching at every sound, and shrinking into his side siblings and ghouls alike flurry by. His father was causing quiet the furore.

Armed with the Abbey’s skeleton key, Azoth unlocks Nihil’s Papal Apartments, and ushers the ragazzo in. It’s a palatial space, befitting of the Bishop of Satan - the former chambers of the abbot of the diocese some centuries ago - but obsolete fittings and outmoded furnishings have been replaced with lush modern pieces, with lurid hues and loud patterns: incredibly stimulating to young eyes, but painfully gauche to those who had survived several of such interior design trends. Shutting the door behind him, the first thing Azoth does is doff his mask, casting it onto the chaise long as he goes to retrieve the throw from Ben’s bed, also painfully polka-dotted and vibrant, and he kneels right down to drape it around the boy’s shoulders.

He gestures ‘one moment’ to the infant, motioning him in the direction of the couch nearest the opulent fireplace ( the hearth having flickered to life when they entered ) the only original fitting the young pope hadn’t torn out or had repainted. Dialling the old rotary phone on Nihil’s bedside table, Azoth makes a call down to the refectory for a cup of hot chocolate - Italian style, with real chocolate, rich and gloopy, not that instant powdered shit whipped up with hot water and milk - and a plate of pastries suitable for a famished stomach. Then he pads across the room, boots discarded so his paws can breathe, and situates himself on the floor - cross legged - with his back to the fireplace. «Il tuo babbo mi ha detto che non parli Inglese. Non è un problema. Sei comodo?» And he smiles, closed lip, avoiding any hint of snarled teeth or split tongue.