#divine intervention if you will

[jaratedeguadalupe]

remus is one of those kids who sees green go or something on the ground and eats it

[wlntrsldler]

MDNI!!!!!!!!! (thoughts about luke castellan)

im listening to practice by drake and i can’t stop thinking about fwb! luke 😀

thinking about how the minute you’re back at camp (from visiting family for the holidays or something stupid like that) luke pulls you away from everyone before you even get to say hi to anyone.

you’re smirking because you already know what’s next. he always got like this when you guys were apart for longer than a few days. ever since you guys started fucking, luke was insatiable.

you weren’t complaining tho because for a guy who didn’t really get much play, he was the only one you’d been with who can actually make you cum.

the second you two were away from everyone, his lips are on your neck and he’s rolling his hips onto yours. you haven’t even touched him yet and he was already hard. he was breathing heavy while he nipped at your skin, his calloused hands gripping your ass, no doubt leaving hand prints on the flesh.

“fuck, i missed this,” luke groaned into your lips, a string of saliva connected your lips. “my fuckin hand isn’t the same.”

you were breathless, “i was gone for like a week, castellan.”

“too long,” he mumbled, his lips connecting with yours again.

you tugged on his curls, making him whine into your mouth. your back was pressed against a tree and you can feel the bark scratching the sliver of skin that was exposed by your top but you didn’t care. luke’s dick was pressed against your thigh and you can feel his pre-cum seeping through his cargo pants.

you hooked one leg on his hip and thrusted up. luke didn’t expect the change in position and he moaned when he felt your warmth brush over the tip of his dick. he pulled away from you, eyes blown wide, and lips puffy from his attack on your lips.

“let me fuck you.” he whispered, “please.”

he wasn’t above begging anymore. he just needed to fucking feel you.

you shook your head. luke ran a hand through his hair, his sexual frustration causing a knot to twist in his stomach. you looked up at him, batting your lashes, “let me take care of you, luke.”

his eyebrows shot up in surprise. luke licked his lips, the tip of his tongue stopping at the corner of his mouth. a cocky smirk grazed his face and he nodded his head slightly to give you the go ahead.

you sank to your knees, undoing his cargo pants on your way down. you pulled put his cock from his boxers, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

“you gonna make me feel good, baby?”

“not your baby,” you said, but your voice said something different. “been practicing.”

luke scoffed in a teasing way at your implications. you always made those comments whenever you came back to camp, like you had other guys to do this with besides him.

luke didn’t feel threatened by the idea. in fact, it only spurred him on because if you were out there fucking other guys, he knew none of them could have you the way he gets to. you were his and he was yours. whatever fucking label you had on this situation was bullshit as far as he’s concerned.

luke placed a hand on the side of your cheek, guiding you toward his dick, “you can talk all the shit you want but it’s my dick that’s gonna be down your throat and it’s my cum you’re about to swallow.”

that shut you up.

part 2 kinda (cinderella by mac miller)

[reality-detective]

Have you ever heard of Fetal Microchimerism? This might be interesting to explore? 🤔

I have always felt there was more to women and since I was in high school, before sex I knew they were divine and the greatest creation in all of mankind's history.

So ALL of you beautiful women out there reading this... I want you to know, you're a complicated beautiful hot mess and you should stand proud in all your amazing glory and if your man doesn't see you for who you are... Tell'em to fμ¢%-off!

You're More Than You Know 🤔

[lyculuscaelus]

With all these “anime screams” in 600 Strike of Epic the musical, I’d say Odysseus is getting to be good with war-cries (or if you will, a master of the war-cry). Plus the fact that he’s literally stabbing a god, using a trident to tame the god of horses?

Diomedes is suspiciously behind all this. Verily.

[a2zillustration]

I carried this thing for MONTHS with the EXPRESS PURPOSE of putting Raphael in it (knowing full well Larian wouldn't let me do that, mechanically) and I had one major miscalculation.

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[shisasan]

Signs by the road. Ph. Aleksandra Alba IG: tanzdreamer

[rnelodyy]

guys please im literally begging yall to understand that "the gods should have interfered when i was a hurt and scared little kid begging them for help" and "the gods shouldnt be forcing themselves onto mortals by way of colonial incursion" are not contradictory statements. ashton's perspective is flawed and biased due to their own experiences sure but its not hypocritical.

[daifha]

"I must say, what a brilliant speech you gave~"

[discard-celestia]

lestat de lioncourt - on the deer which runs faster than itself. Hélène Cixous, Stigmata / Anne Rice, The Vampire Lestat / Interview with a Vampire (2022) / Catherine Malabou, Ontology of the Accident / Czeslaw Milosz, New and Collected Poems: 1931-2001 / Louis Moe, Allegory / Ovid, Metamorphoses / Ethel Cain, Ptolomea / The Company of Wolves (1984) / Lingua Ignota, I WHO BEND THE TALL GRASSES / Hugh Parry, Ovid's Metamorphoses: Violence in a Pastoral Landscape.

[kupidachillea]

Achilles x You x Patroclus hcs

Author note: This is sorta self indulgent, please be nice in the comments. I understand this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but just be nice about it and have an open mind.💕

TW: None, this is mainly fluff. Besides the mentions of wounds and training (fighting)

-🌿 When you first meet them, it’s not really what you expected. You had moved to Greece and were staying with Chiron until he suggested that you could stay with his former students. And you agreed.

-🏺 You found yourself in their home as their new housemate. How odd, but you brushed it off as something akin to a roommate and you hoped you could get along with the two former warriors.

-🌿 At first Achilles was skeptical of you, not entirely on board with the idea of living with someone other than his companion..but Patroclus managed to get him to calm down enough to accept you as a new friend into their space.

-🏺And for the most part, things were good between the 3 of you. You mainly tried not to be a bother but also tried to engage with them every once in awhile. As well as doing basic house chores.

-🌿 Besides that you’d watch the boys train together and occasionally patch them up from their little fights. It was more so harder to get Achilles to accept treatment but he’d always give in..mumbling that your touch was “So soft..” every time you’d clean up his injuries.

-🏺Patroclus was actually quite thrilled that he wouldn’t always have to be tending to his own wounds after training (or deal with Achilles’ scrappy bandage work). It meant he could relax while you asked about how training went and how he’d respond. The boys seemed to grow to enjoy your company each week.

-🌿Not that you noticed it at first, but they’d start to do little things for you. Before they’d never really make breakfast for you but now you’d come downstairs to your breakfast already made for you and a sweet note from Patroclus to your surprise.

-🏺 Even when you stay up late nights, Achilles will walk by your room or wherever you are and frown when he sees that you’re still up. You’d give him some excuse but he didn’t care..he’d pick you up despite your protest and place you in bed.

-🌿 If you still didn’t want to sleep he’d call Patroclus and they’d both stay in your room with you until your fall asleep, ultimately causing them to fall asleep with you in the bed in a sweet cuddle pile.

-🏺At first Achilles would never want to admit that he was starting to have feelings for you, because he didn’t think it’d be possible since it’s been years..but as soon as Patroclus pipes up saying he’s developed feelings for you too- he ultimately admits it with a defeated sigh. At least he knows they’re both on the same page.

-🌿 Of course they’re both conflicted at first, but then they decide to own up to it- I mean- if they can handle the war they can handle courting…right?….right?

-🏺It’s a bit of a task but they start getting more touchy with you, sleeping on your lap or resting against your back with their weight. This obviously confuses you- and if you’re easily flustered they’ll lightly tease you for it. Achilles with his smirk and Patroclus with a sweet yet knowing grin.

-🌿 They’ve taken it upon themselves to start giving you nicknames: like “Dear”, “Darling”, “Love”, or in Achilles’ case; “Doll” or “Dollface”. At times you’ll call them nicknames too like “Achi” or “Patro”..but nothing like what they say since you’re not sure if they’d appreciate, but deep down they’re aching for you to call them a silly lovey nickname.

-🏺 At some point though over the course of the months you’ve been living with them, Achilles gets impatient and sick of you not getting their hints and they both end up confronting you just as you were about to settle down and do you own thing-

-🌿 Achilles was about ti accuse you of playing around with them until Patroclus chimed in, cutting off the words of his companion and speaking for them both. Basically confessing that they have liked you for some time now…He would look at you with a pleading gaze in his beautiful green eyes..patiently waiting for a response from you while Achilles scanned your shocked expression.

-🏺You being you, you were trying to play it safe..but seeing how serious they were about being a “Throuple” with you was not something you expected, but you eventually decided to give them a chance when you saw even the proud Achilles look at you in almost a pleading manner.

-🌿 They were over the moon- Achilles wasting no time in pulling you in for a heated kiss, his lips colliding with your and making you blink in surprise before kissing him back..When he pulled away he was grinning like an idiot.

-🏺Patroclus was more gentle, asking his he could kiss you before pulling you into his arms and being a little more passionate about it. Though he did bite your bottom lip teasingly.

-🌿 You were pleasantly surprised to say the least and soon enough they both ushered you to the sofa to cuddle and watch some movies. Achilles laying so that you were laying in his chest and Patroclus snuggling between your legs, his face resting on your chest too while you blushed and thought about how this relationship would progress.

[zukosdualdao]

the moon will sing a song for me (i loved you like the sun)

zutara month, day seven: divine intervention, @zutaramonth.

summary: when zuko takes the lightning aimed for katara, it takes a little more than her usual healing to get him back from the brink. feat. yue's words of encouragement and empowering influence on katara, medically necessary bloodbending, and a zuko who is too out of it to understand much of what is going on, but that's okay. katara has him.

content warnings: general references to violence and wounds, nothing more explicit than the show.

notes: title is from "the moon will sing" by the crane wives. yes i do too many lyric titles. no i will not stop <3. idk when sozin's comet officially ended but for fic purposes we are imagining the timing makes sense for the moon to be out after the agni kai. two pieces of dialogue were taken from the show.

Zuko groans as he's being turned over. His bones feel like liquid, his skin set alight, his heart like a crater in his chest.

Katara, he thinks, he tries to say, he doesn't know.

Katara looks at him with a worried expression, her lips turned in a frown, her eyes wide with fear and sadness as she presses a watery hand to his crumpled, prone form.

She is worried but alive. She is alive, and if she is here, then she must have defeated Azula.

Katara is alive. That is what counts. This was his destiny, then. To save her.

It wasn't a bad note to end on.

Zuko closes his eyes. There's a hammering thud in his chest. He is so tired. Normally, he'd associate the feel of it with exertion, or else desperation, and he would feel frantic. But he is so tired. He has been so tired.

"No," he thinks he hears Katara say. It sounds like she's underwater, or perhaps he is. "No, Zuko, don't you dare."

He struggles to open his eyes again because he doesn't want her to sound so angry with him and doesn't want her to be sad. It only feels like a moment has passed, or maybe it has been hours.

She is looking up. Pale, yellow light shadows her.

Katara is speaking with the moon.

The moon is also a girl.

Someone told him a story like that once.

A spirit, he thinks a little redundantly, with white tresses of hair and a glowy form and a gentle smile. The moon spirit?

Zuko jerks, a spasm of his body as he lights up again with the pain, and Katara looks back to him, alarmed.

"—but you know another way," the moon-girl insists softly to Katara, whom Zuko looks at as her mouth sets in a thin, determined line. Unless he's imagining it all, which is possible. "And I am here with you now."

After a moment's hesitation, Katara nods and sets her left, water-encased hand against his chest again and raises her other in a motion he faintly recognizes.

"This is going to hurt," she says warningly, sadly. "But it will help. I think. It has to." She shakes her head, torn.

Zuko doesn't know what's going on, but if Katara says it will help, that's all that really matters.

"I trust you," he slurs. Is that him? Does he sound like that?

Katara blinks. Zuko watches tears slip from her cheeks.

And then, it starts. She did not lie about it hurting. Despite himself, Zuko feels his body rising from the ground in pain and panic, and Katara has to keep him pressed down. His blood is boiling, his chest swelling. This must be what dying feels like. But then, he's pretty sure he was dying before. He supposes it's a process.

"—sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry—" Zuko makes out the words, faint in his ears, though Katara sobs them out.

Eventually, though, the beat of his heart evens. His blood begins to simmer down. The pain melts.

He watches as Katara pulls back, resting on her knees. The moon-girl smiles down on them before fading back into being just the moon, high in their war-torn sky again.

Nothing that just happened makes any sense, Zuko decides dazedly. But it was Katara who saved him, and that made all the sense in the world.

"Thank you, Katara," he rasps, looking up at her through heavy eyes. Looking at her made everything in the world seem alright again.

She looks down at him with a soft expression and a watery smile.

"I think I'm the one who should be thanking you."

[app1es0uce]

In “Wouldn’t You Like” Hermes says “A foe like Circe is not to be messed with, You want to beat her you’ll need the blessing of a certain God. Divine intervention. Someone who's not afraid to… send a message ;)”

In “God Games” Zeus says “Divine intervention, is that what you seek? To untie apprehensions that were placed on that Greek?”

And then Hermes is there to take Odysseus from Calypso.

Coincidence? I think not!

[reality-detective]

[nourtarts]

mercy

[deer-with-a-stick]

Going fucking feral over the technicality that if someone where to use the Scroll of True Resurrection on Astarion, he should no longer be a vampire spawn.

Technically, if Karlach dies and you take the infernal engine out of her chest (or straight up destroy the body), then True Resurrection will heal her too and I just-

please just give them happy endings I beg of you

[laurasimonsdaughter]

“Why a temple? Why now?”

She is only a voice, barely a presence, but her notice shakes the mortal beneath her. The reply comes slowly, fearfully:

“Because you are needed. By me. By so many others.”

A goddess can smile even in the silent, sightless nothing. “I have learned to love the little altars, the songs, the stories. But you no longer celebrate your harvests. There is no need for a temple to beg my presence.”

“I am not here for the harvest,” the exhausted mortal speaks. Her voice is painfully familiar, like every human voice, but more so.

“Then why are you here? Why am I here?”

“Because I cannot find my child.”

The goddess opens her eyes. The mortal before her is shaking in her worn down shoes.

“Because you lost your daughter once. Because you did everything to get her back.”

Her gaze is endless, and the silence gaping. But when she replies there is less of divinity and more of hesitance in her voice.

“There are many versions of that story.”

The parent’s eyes are bloodshot, wide awake and stubborn. “But you find her in every single one.”

The goddess lifts her head and looks around. It is a poor excuse for a temple. There are no columns, no statues, no sheaf of wheat, no offerings. Just empty chairs, and coffee cups, marker stained maps, and missing posters lining the walls.

And in the midst of it all, a woman who looks almost too familiar.

A plastic clock ticks to one past one, and the goddess Demeter seats herself under the roof of her new temple, a ripple of blind perseverance and unflinching hope rushing into the night.