#god bless those 4-8 seconds

[realbigpodcastslut]

Being trained for my own radio show means I now understand why Ben was so adamant on that bleep button

[alexwilltellyouthings]

Entirely self indulgent rating post about the top 10 TV shows that made me fucking insane for some reason

10. Sense8

God, this was so good. Such a blessing. I saw part of the cast during a Pride Parade and it's one of my favorite memories. I felt every possible emotion with this show, I love it.

9. The Last of Us

This is kind of a cheat, because the obsession comes from the games, but it is what it is. It's one of the few games that had a big impact on me and I closely relate it to my relationship with my dad. Can't wait to cry my heart out at season 2.

8. Good Omens

It's a given, isn't it? That stupid angel with his stupid demon and their stupid God. GRRRAAWW. A lot of thoughts and feelings came from the fandom, I have to point out. It's been very nice.

7. The Umbrella Academy

I have the first issue of the comics autographed by Gerard Way!! I mean, yes, it's because I'm a MCR fan, but it became even more precious after I got into the show. I'm rewatching right now, preparing for the last season. I'll be a mess when I say goodbye to them. Can't even really think about it too hard or I'll cry right now.

Continues under the cut

6. Our Flag Means Death

LISTEN THIS CHANGED EVERYTHING TO ME. What do you mean we can have a show THIS queer? It's all I want now. I ate it up. I smiled so much. I wanted this so badly and had no idea.

5. Interview with the Vampire

Feels like it should be top 3 honestly but I'll get there. This is also a cheat, I've been reading the Vampire Chronicles since I was like 15. Growing up with Anne Rice probably messed me up but hey at least I have great taste. And seeing them on screen? The way they made it BETTER? And Lestat?? Who has been haunting me for 15 years on and off??? And the second season and their reunion and and and?????????? I'm STILL insane about them and will be forever, I'm afraid.

4. Doctor Who

Listen. Listen. Okay. Yeah. What can I say? If you get into it, you're doomed. And I have been doomed for 10 years at least. I stopped watching for a while and got back last year, and it hit me all over again. I love this dumbass genius alien in a way that's calm, even. Just a permanent part of who I am now.

3. The Untamed

The year was 2022, it had been a while since I had a proper fixation and I didn't think it would happen with this danmei live-action, but then came Wei Wuxian. Guys, if I tell you I fell in love. Couldn't stop thinking about him. Everyday I was plagued by his smile and red ribbon and tragic backstory, yadayadayada. I really like other characters too, and their stories, but WWX did something to me that I still don't quite understand.

2. Queer as Folk (US)

This was a looong time ago and it didn't really persist over time like the others, but it was my first actual obsession. I was clinically insane over these gays. I had no one to talk to about them, so for every episode I wrote several pages of notes to comment to my (only) friend at school the next day, the poor thing. It was pretty much all I talked about because I spent EVERY MINUTE we had to talk going over the notes and explaining the episode. Like, between classes, during breaks, everything. Months of that. She held on firmly because she was a good friend, but I'm aware it must've been terrible. Like I said, insane.

1. Dead Boy Detectives

Maybe I'm putting this up here because it's my current hyperfixation? Maybe. But I don't think I have felt something hit as strongly as this since QaF over there. This time I can participate in fandom so I don't need to write every thought I have because it's all a big talk anyway, but I'm still pretty much having those thoughts all the time for *checks notes* nearly three months. I'm writing more than I have in years. I'm back at Tumblr after I don't know how long. I'm staring at GIFs over and over like I have the fucking time for that. I'm distracted at work daily. I talk about it in therapy. I have the main cast's notifications on. I'm getting involved in fandom discourse sometimes even knowing I shouldn't. It's a nightmare. I love it. I love them.

If you read all of this, congrats! Now you know how my mind works, kinda!! I'm open to talk about any and all of these shows. It's amazing how they mess us up. It's also scary, but anyway.

[sinisterexaggerator]

For: Tales of (Rebel) Scum and Villainy (series)

Introduction / notes

Read on Ao3

74 BBY – Prologue

A child was born under a bad sign, with a blue moon glistening in his expressive, lunate eyes.

He was brought into the galaxy with a smile upon his face, causing his poor mother not one ounce of pain.

However, Weequay are a superstitious lot, primitive in their arcane practices. Most worship the deities of old—Quay, and the god of thunder, Am-Shak.

Though Sriluur has five natural satellites, Ruul is the sole body capable of hosting life, yet it was Rauk that had reached its fullness for a second time that month.

Not the moon named after Quay, not Liiaon, and not Lytenae, but the one that represented what the Weequay feared above all else. 

This was a truth his mother would be forced to hide, should this youngling be allowed to live, for one delivered under Rauk was fated to be his.

What this mother did not know, or chose not to believe, was that this god was fair and partial to his own, and that her little boy was destined for great things.

Though birthed under this divinity of death, misfortune, and bad luck, the woman failed to realize just how special her son was. 

Her child was blessed, her new-sprung babe, just one whole hour old—he had earned himself protection from what should have been ill-omens.

Rauk would grant him immunity against those things that would cause him harm, for none like him had come before, and none have since been born…

The Scoundrel of Sriluur:

Men are what their mothers make them. Scoundrels; pirates; ruffians. This story is no different, as tragic as it is compelling. Ch. 1 (prologue) | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 |?

[coffeeman777]

Everyone reading this, this is for you. God appointed that you would see this post at this time. He has a message for you, please don't ignore it.

The message is this: repent of your sins, and believe in Jesus! This life will not last forever. Some day, maybe some day soon, each and every one of us will stand before the Lord to be judged. For those who repent and receive God's offer of pardon through Lord Jesus' sacrifice, they will obtain eternal life. Those who refuse the Lord Jesus and die in their sins, they will receive condemnation and everlasting punishment. Please, I beg you, don't let yourself be counted among the latter!

If you read this and you want to know more, please don't hesitate to reach out to me.

I love you all. I'll be praying for you!

Romans 10:9-13

"...9 because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. 10 For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved. 11 For the Scripture says, “Everyone who believes in Him will not be put to shame.” 12 For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; for the same Lord is Lord of all, bestowing His riches on all who call on Him. 13 For “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”"

Titus 2:11-14

"11 For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, 12 training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, 13 waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, 14 who gave Himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession who are zealous for good works."

Titus 3:3-7

"3 For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another. 4 But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, 5 He saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to His own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, 6 whom He poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, 7 so that being justified by His grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life."

2 Thessalonians 1:5-10

"5 This is evidence of the righteous judgment of God, that you may be considered worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you are also suffering— 6 since indeed God considers it just to repay with affliction those who afflict you, 7 and to grant relief to you who are afflicted as well as to us, when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with His mighty angels 8 in flaming fire, inflicting vengeance on those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus. 9 They will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction, away from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of His might, 10 when He comes on that day to be glorified in His saints, and to be marveled at among all who have believed, because our testimony to you was believed."

Revelation 20:11-15

"11 Then I saw a great white throne and Him who was seated on it. From His presence earth and sky fled away, and no place was found for them. 12 And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Then another book was opened, which is the book of life. And the dead were judged by what was written in the books, according to what they had done. 13 And the sea gave up the dead who were in it, Death and Hades gave up the dead who were in them, and they were judged, each one of them, according to what they had done. 14 Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire. 15 And if anyone's name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire."

[flower-cage]

The Wolf and The Dragon | Chapter Six

by @flower-cage

Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Summary: The war between the Greens and the Blacks has begun and the youngest of the Stark heirs is sent on a secret mission to King's Landing. In its course, she will learn to accept the power that was never meant to be hers and the love she never thought she deserved.

Ao3 | Main Masterlist | TWATD Masterlist | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | NEW Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 coming soon

Chapter Six: The Wolf and The Dragon I

Chapter summary: When you show no signs of recovery, Aemond is forced to face his own heart.

Words: 4,039.

Warnings: 18+ only; gore, mentions of blood, cursing, near-death experiences.

A/N: uhhmmm this one is really different and I'm not sure about it but I can't wait to post it any longer!!! Will definitely go back and edit it later though lol.

Although this chapter does not contain smut, later chapter will. Minors do not interact.

For the most part, he recalled the blood — your blood. It had been everywhere: on the boat where you had fainted, on his hands that had bandaged you, on his chest which had supported you, and on his hair, his cheek, his nose. The pungent odor of iron was stronger than that of the salt of the sea and insistent, ruthless. Though it had been everywhere, it had never stopped pouring out of your rapidly cooling flesh for as long as you had been within his eyesight.

And the sight had been the most terrifying he had the displeasure of witnessing - that of your limp body fastened haphazardly to your loyal wolf as it emptied itself of life. More breaths it had stolen than even Vhagar when she had threatened to set him ablaze and more hopeless yet than the first look at his bloodied, deformed reflection over a decade in the past.

He was well accustomed to the sparkling sensation that bloomed in his chest, stretching along his arms, into his gut - an evil inherent to second sons, his mother would often say, a burden of the dutiful, of those who relentlessly pursue perfection to find only disappointment. Except, this time, it settled in his gut like a dreadful, innate truth rather than on his shoulders like a reminder of damnation, triggering not frustration but fear.

The decision to send you off had been like an omnipotent calling in his state of shock. He had weighed neither alternatives nor risks as he strapped you to Shadow in a hurry. Criston had been yelling from the shore still, the wooden vessel dragging behind him.

“What are you doing?!” he had screamed, his voice scratching through the silent night. “She’ll never make it!”

It had been too late, then, for the mighty direwolf dashed off with a speed abnormal for any woodland animal, taking you far into the darkness. Their matching, piercing blue eyes had locked in what he could only hope had been understanding - of the urgency, the gravity - and she had darted away.

The image – the blood - stayed with him on the ride back on that first night and lingered still through the second stretch of the journey home. Criston had followed him as he pursued the crimson trail as far as it veered into the woods, into roads wild and unbreachable.

The moment they finally dismount their horses at the Red Keep, that persistent smell and the urgent ringing in his ears become stronger as if his flesh knows you are close by, as if it had developed a sense that is attuned to you only. His cloak goes flying when his feet hit the ground and the cold grasp of the Stranger tightens around his heart when he spots a large, wet stain of red by his feet. It nearly topples him over.

Knights and lords cry for him, asking where he has been and blessing the Gods for his safe return, but  he pays them little regard as he sprints through the corridors of the castle on his way to Maegor’s Holdfast, on his way to you. Each step that shortens the distance between you is yet quicker than the one previous and, once again, though his mind is indeed determined to find you, his body reacts faster yet than its commands, urging him on by an instinct he knew not.

He finds his strength in his clenched fists and in his misplaced anger as his tired eye blurs his vision. Though his dried lips evince his thirst as his choppy breath does his weariness, naught falters his severe pace, naught but the red-soaked towels servants carry out your quarters.

His powerful steps disturb his mother’s pensive state when he turns into the passageway that houses both your apartments - until that bloody sight stills him body and soul. She rises from the chair by your door where she sniffles into a handkerchief, gasping his name, wide, red-rimmed eyes spilling fresh tears. But the Grand Maester pops out of your room and recaptures her attention, shaking his head in shame, in defeat. The gesture rekindles the dread in his stoned, black heart, and like an explosion at the end of a trail of oil, he bursts renewed into an urgent stride.

He does not make it past his mother, for she envelops him in a firm embrace, holding his face between her palms to inspect his health, her eyes running across his face disorderly.

“What happened?” she chokes out rushedly, swallowing her despair. “Why were you separated?”

“I am not hurt,” he says instead of answering, to soothe her nerves and save himself from explanations. 

He does not mean to dismiss her, knowing she had likely worried herself into near insanity when you arrived half-dead and alone, but he is the one who now nears derangement with the anxiety that burns and boils inside him like fresh, angry lava. 

“How is she?” he asks without preamble, without the façade of coldness and propriety he commonly wears so well.

His mother clamps her teeth shut, then, and exchanges nervous looks with the maester in place of soothing him as he had her. He nearly topples to the ground again.

“How is she?” he presses on, gripping her elbows sternly to hold himself upward, to hold himself together.

“My Prince,” the maester starts, treading lightly, meekly, avoiding his penetrating gaze, “we have, at this time, exhausted our expertise.”

He pushes off his mother’s hold then, takes the maester by the collar and pulls him close, hoping that if the grime and gore that clings to his skin do not disgust him into talking, fear of his fury will.

“I asked-” he growls between gritted teeth. He hears his mother chastise him in horror but it does not deter him in the slightest. “How is she?”

“W-w-weak, your Grace,” the maester shivers in his grasp. “Barely breathing,” he adds quietly. “We have tried all-”

As if invaded by the realization that he can reassure himself of your state, he strides into your bedroom in a heartbeat. Shadow lies at the end of your large bed, fur hardened and matted by your dried blood. She perks up as he barges in but allows him to come near you, heavy head dropping back down onto the cushions as if its very weight were unbearable.

You look far too small where you lie swallowed by too many blankets, making him stop in his wild track. He approaches you timidly now, fearful of what he shall witness should he come any closer. Each step reveals another truth he wishes to unsee. 

The covers are pulled to your chest, and your shoulders are wrapped in gauze stained a dark red, nearly brown. There is blood on your pillows and your bedding. Much like it clings to his hair and face, it does yours too. The once-white cloth of hand towels is marred in your blood, thrown in haste over a tea table. A bowl rests on it too, water so red it hides the bottom of the recipient entirely. He becomes nauseated so quickly he has to look away from all the carnage, but the sickness does not leave him – it is not the gory sight but your hopeless fragility that turns his stomach upside down.

He has come to know the color of your lips well enough to notice they bear an unfamiliar, frightening hue of purple. He cannot hear your quiet breathing, and neither can he see the rise and fall of your bandaged chest, or simply discern a single trace of life in your still form. Lifeless is how you look.

His legs fail him finally, and his body falls down onto your mattress as his fingers brush lightly against your wrist, afraid of what they might not find. It lacks the warmth he has grown accustomed to. If not for the faintest heartbeat, he would have taken you for dead. Lifeless is how you feel.

“We have stopped her bleeding and nourished her body with lamb’s blood,” the maester explains from where he stands just past the threshold. “All that can be done now is wait, and hope she will find the strength to heal her way back to us.”

“Her bandages look putrid,” he accuses though he dares not turn away from you, no matter how direly the sight aggrieves him. 

“I am afraid the wound has begun to infect, my Prince. A wound this large requires diligent care-”

“Are you telling me,” he spits, his breath threatening to burst his lungs apart, his heart forcing its way through his ribcage, “she’s just been sitting here with an infection, worsening-”

“Aemond, the maesters were only able to treat her once before her wolf attacked them,” his mother interferes, her tone denouncing her vexation. “The only reason she is not laying outside on the dirt in the manner in which she arrived is because her wolf passed out shortly after their arrival.”

“And she hasn’t allowed any of us near since she awoke,” she finishes.

He glances at the direwolf behind him. She blinks slowly as she fights off sleep. What had prompted her to allow him close? Was it his scent on you, or yours on him? Or had she noticed the recent shift in your intimacy?

The thought warms him from the inside, provoking racy memories to resurface, but he is quick to shake them off and stop them from clouding his mind.

“I will do it, then,” he announces. “Bring me what it is I need and I shall do it.”

As he rises, in part to be taken seriously, in part to disturb his inopportune musings, he notices the perturbed look on his mother’s face, without a doubt a result of his allusion to improper intimacy. He shoots her a hard look to deflate her dismay. Some things, such as your safety, were more important than decorum.

“I-I beg that you bathe first, your Grace,” the maester urges.

He finds himself by your side again at nightfall. Anxious had he been to rid you of your infected bandages, he had done as the maester instructed and returned to his own chambers for a proper wash. Twice he had to order a fresh fill of water, so murky and red it had become with the blood that melted down his skin, through his silver strands.

Though he had not the heart to deny his poor mother’s worried, wet eyes when she herself came to fetch him for supper, he had quickly returned to you afterward. In the moments you were parted, his legs wished for nothing other than to jump up and take him back. His knee bounced underneath the table with the effort of restraint. His mind raced through the evening in the hopes it would accelerate the course of the meal in consequence, but the only effect it had was aggravating his own impatience.

Under the guise of changing your plasters once more, he had left promptly after dessert, though he suspected his mother’s keen eyes saw clearly past his excuses. Now he has naught to guise his presence here, by your side. Nothing justifies it when he puts more logs into your dying fire, nothing justifies him taking a seat by your bed, within arm’s reach, and nothing justifies his eye’s unwillingness to part with your image.

He had been careful to wipe the dried blood off your skin where it lingered in sight still, but it did not take away the semblance of death like he had hoped it would. And your lips remain shut and lifeless when they had once been both eager to insult him and pliant to his taste. He thinks he would delight in either response, as long as you were to wake again.

Lifeless, yes, is how he sees you in this moment, and yet sublimely serene. He had only seldom seen your brow without the crease of a frown, so often in response to his actions. You are a hard woman, led much like him by duty and loyalty to your own in a world that opposes your very nature. Although you had been remarkably brave to soften in the face of your wrongdoings, extending your sorrow even in the face of his unjust antagonism, your tenderness now resembles surrender. It does not ignite in him that same bright, undeniable pull either.

He is unable to discern what it is that courses through his veins in its stead, only that it is bitter. And bitterly his mind’s eye takes him to the moments when he delivered spite, only to paint distantly how he could have instead prolonged the joy he has learned is your company. Alas, the reality is that he wasted your interactions with his envy, and he might not now be granted a second chance.

He cannot stop his fingers when they reach for yours, for an urge to feel you, know for certain that you are living and that your heart pumps blood still in your flesh, simmers inside him. He has no shame in bringing them to his lips, either, only to let them rest there when not even your own eyes are there to witness his vulnerability. 

It grants him momentary relief, even if he still longs for you to rise at his touch. But your skin does not smell of iron as he had expected, nor does it smell like you, and the general lack of responsiveness disheartens him so that he lets your hand rest on your mattress in defeat.

He is startled from his place of misery when the doors to your chambers open as if expecting his worst nightmares to materialize, as if expecting the very faceless face of the Stranger to stalk forward and retrieve you from him. Instead, it is his mother’s soft, tired semblance that greets him. He only realizes he has reached for his dagger when his shoulders drop and his grip on it slackens.

She walks in hesitantly, glancing at a sleeping Shadow before resuming her pace.

“You, too, should be resting,” she murmurs as if the raising of her voice could disturb you, as if you had been merely asleep all along, rather than holding on to a feeble thread of life.

Her casualty comes from a place of relief for her son’s well-being, he knows, but inside he boils already so much with his tightly concealed musings and sensations that he cannot reasonably extend her such empathy. He fixes his eye back on your gloomy face and hopes the action is enough of a statement that leaves no room for insistence.

She ignores his petulance, coming around him to stroke the back of her hand against your forehead. Her fingers brush a stray strand of hair away from your face and his own twitch in their envy. Then he presses his lips together to soothe the itch when he watches her murmur a short blessing against your brow.

“So beautiful, don’t you think?” she whispers, his heart clenches. “So strong.”

Had he been a lesser man he might not have recognized the sweet inquiry for what it was - a test. A test of his dignity, a test of his duty to his family, to House Baratheon, to the kingdom. But he is not a lesser man, and he knows his mother, no matter how quick-witted, well enough to know the right answer is to forego his opinion, no matter how heartily he wishes to divulge what has quickly become devotion.

“She saved my life,” it escapes him, unsure if he meant for it to reach his mother’s ears and noting that his adoration is distinguishable, unavoidable.

“Will you not tell me what happened?” she sighs, coming to stand next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and carding her fingers through his long, tamed hair like she had done since he was but a scared boy. They hold still the same soothing effect on the scared man he has grown into.

“I was a fool,” he murmurs. “Daemon found us, and I was a fool to answer his taunts,” he hesitates, “and engage him in combat.”

Though her caresses falter and her hand squeezes his shoulder a bit tighter at the mention of the Rogue Prince, she neither chastises nor patronizes him, for which he is grateful.

“I’d be the one abed if not for her,” he concludes, “perhaps far worse.”

They sit in silence in the face of his somber acknowledgment, watching you sleep, until she at last coaxes him with gentle words and motherly wisdom to take rest in his own chambers. He leaves when a trustworthy guard is poised inside your room, and Shadow is once again alert in his absence.

The next couple of days, he sits alone and with his thoughts. You remain unconscious and eerily quiet, and he takes upon tending to your fire, tending to your wounds, attentive to your breathing and your pulse. He sits by your side, watches the days pass through your large windows, and reads and writes. He leaves for council meetings in the mornings and retires to his bedroom in the late evenings. 

His mother joins him in the afternoons, sometimes with Helaena, always with Ser Criston, and though she joins in quiet activities - reading, sowing, praying - she does also all the things he wishes he had the liberty to do: brushing your hair, kissing your forehead, muttering words of tenderness. She blesses you with holy passages when she leaves, and Criston’s get well soon, Captain’s never fails to warm his spirits.

On the third evening, Grand Maester Orwyle is who joins him. Though Shadow allows him in, finally, she snarls still when he threatens to approach the bed. What he says turns him ice–cold again:

“If she does not rise on the morrow-” he hesitates, cutting himself short at the murderous looks he gets from him and your wolf. “She needs nourishment, and soon,” he finishes solemnly before retreating in the wake of his desolation.

Shadow rises, clearly distressed. He cannot tell whether she understands his words or if she senses his desperate grief, but he too is perturbed to the point of pushing off his seat. In dire need of the cold night air to clear away his worries, he opens the doors to your balcony, your wolf following in her eagerness to greet the night.

He breathes in the crisp, dewy air, eye closed and head low as he supports his weight against the metal handle. His forehead rests on the cool glass but it too fails to distract him from his anguish. His flesh thrums now he has his back to you, afraid you shall again befall victim to lethal damage. However, when he awards himself another glance he is not appeased in the slightest, for his fears weigh renewed in his chest, stealing his breaths, stalling his heartbeats. Had he felt more comfortable in the skin that prickled and burned in your presence, perhaps he would not be standing here, mourning every kiss and tender touch and gentle word he never gave you.

It is Shadow who startles him out of his torments with her deafening howling at the bright full moon.

“Damned dog,” he hisses, quick to step back inside and shut the doors.

“Direwolf,” says a faint, feeble voice behind him.

He turns on his heels, thinking he has finally gone mad with longing when he finds you yet asleep. Then you squeeze your shut eyes harder and a precarious breath escapes him. He steps warily towards you, half thinking still that he is in a dream and, if so, wishes not to disrupt it.

But you move your head sideways unhurriedly, tentatively awakening your body which surely still aches in the aftermath of the violence it endured. His heart is light and bright to see you alive, undoubtedly alive, attempting to break free from his chest for entirely new motives.

“You fool,” is what escapes him instead, though his voice trembles, not bites, and the insult strains as it gets caught in his throat. Once a habit, now his body rejects it when his mind tries to place you in that spiteful sentiment you haven’t belonged to in quite some time.

Your eyes fall open finally, blinking rapidly and fighting against the light, no matter how dim. He rushes to your side when you propel yourself forward only to be driven right back by your pain, wincing as you go. He propels a second pillow behind your head, silent as he struggles to hold the second insult that so easily gets trapped behind his teeth. Your eyes are closed again, and the frown on your brow evinces your discomfort.

“Are you alright?” you beat him to the question.

“I am,” he bites and wishes he had the bravery to express such care. “Since you’ve used your body as a shield against Dark Sister like a damned fool.”

He curses himself inwardly, taking advantage that you cannot see him raise a disappointed palm to his forehead, tired himself of his constant antagonism, but you smile despite his discourtesy and he can breathe again.

“Are you thanking me, my Prince?”

He breathes out a strained laugh - one which likely sounds more like a scoff - at your misplaced, mocking formality. You are safe and healthy enough to satirize him still. He does not stop his fingers when they brush against your hairline. He has long tired of inhibiting them.

“You need water,” he murmurs when your lovely eyes meet his.

He helps you sit up and lean against the headboard. Carefully, he cups the back of your head, his other hand bringing a chalice to your chapped lips. He wills himself not to break from your gaze as much as he stills himself not to shiver. The effort of restraining his care is just as great as embracing it, for it awakens a thrill and a pull that thrums in his heated flesh too strongly for him to veil behind cold eyes.

He leaves your side when his heart fills to the brim with a bursting light, threatening to expand beyond what he is capable of enduring. He tells the guard outside your door to fetch the masters and your maids, then lingers for another moment so that he may catch his breath and his reason.

Thankfully, when he approaches you again, Shadow scratches at the glass of your balcony and he does not have to meet your eyes and risk baring himself anymore. In a pathetic moment of weakness, he bypasses your bed to let her in, then takes a seat by your side and fixes his gaze on your direwolf as she moves restlessly about you.

“You know-” he starts, if only because the need to conceal his vulnerability chokes him. “She brought you here, strapped to her back.”

You don’t answer him, and he finds himself talking still against his own better judgment. 

“I had no need to tell her what to do,” he continues, fingers fiddling with one another aimlessly. “Had not a clue whether she would understand me if I did. She simply knew to bring you here.” 

He meets your gaze, finally, unnerved by your silence and finding you ready as ever to retaliate his next statement.

“She saved you.”

“I think you saved me,” you insist immediately, will never stop trying to break his stubborn façades.

“You saved me first.”

He steadies his gaze, hoping it is cold and unforgiving as usual, yet he positively feels his softness, his devotion slipping through every crack in his mask of cruelty and propriety that so stubbornly refuses to remain resolute. Too easily, what was once hardened for self-preservation now reveals vulnerability, at this moment when you each quietly admit to your reciprocal appreciation. You stare at one another and he is certain your stunned eyes match his, startled by your shared, timid divulgence.

He knows not what to make of the revelation other than sit with it, with you. Although, before he can understand it, an entourage of maids and maesters walks in to fuss about you. You are helped off the bed so quickly, he only narrowly manages to turn around for your privacy and rush to the door.

He stands there in the dark hallway, gripping its handle and feeling all of those cracks bleed profusely. He feels, he cares, he burns - and he cannot hide nor deny it.

Taglist in comments.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

1 My friends, how I wish with all my heart that my own people might be saved! How I pray to God for them! 2 I can assure you that they are deeply devoted to God; but their devotion is not based on true knowledge. 3 They have not known the way in which God puts people right with himself, and instead, they have tried to set up their own way; and so they did not submit themselves to God's way of putting people right. 4 For Christ has brought the Law to an end, so that everyone who believes is put right with God.

Salvation Is for All

5 Moses wrote this about being put right with God by obeying the Law: “Whoever obeys the commands of the Law will live.” 6 But what the scripture says about being put right with God through faith is this: “You are not to ask yourself, Who will go up into heaven?” (that is, to bring Christ down). 7 “Nor are you to ask, Who will go down into the world below?” (that is, to bring Christ up from death). 8 What it says is this: “God's message is near you, on your lips and in your heart”—that is, the message of faith that we preach. 9 If you confess that Jesus is Lord and believe that God raised him from death, you will be saved. 10 For it is by our faith that we are put right with God; it is by our confession that we are saved. 11 The scripture says, “Whoever believes in him will not be disappointed.” 12 This includes everyone, because there is no difference between Jews and Gentiles; God is the same Lord of all and richly blesses all who call to him. 13 As the scripture says, “Everyone who calls out to the Lord for help will be saved.”

14 But how can they call to him for help if they have not believed? And how can they believe if they have not heard the message? And how can they hear if the message is not proclaimed? 15 And how can the message be proclaimed if the messengers are not sent out? As the scripture says, “How wonderful is the coming of messengers who bring good news!” 16 But not all have accepted the Good News. Isaiah himself said, “Lord, who believed our message?” 17 So then, faith comes from hearing the message, and the message comes through preaching Christ.

18 But I ask: Is it true that they did not hear the message? Of course they did—for as the scripture says:

“The sound of their voice went out to all the world; their words reached the ends of the earth.” 19 Again I ask: Did the people of Israel not understand? Moses himself is the first one to answer: “I will use a so-called nation to make my people jealous; and by means of a nation of fools I will make my people angry.” 20 And Isaiah is even bolder when he says, “I was found by those who were not looking for me; I appeared to those who were not asking for me.”

21 But concerning Israel he says, “All day long I held out my hands to welcome a disobedient and rebellious people.” — Romans 10 | Good News Translation (GNT) Good News Translation® (Today’s English Version, Second Edition) © 1992 American Bible Society. All rights reserved. Cross References: Leviticus 18:5; Deuteronomy 6:25; Deuteronomy 30:12; Deuteronomy 30:14; Deuteronomy 32:21; Job 42:5; Psalm 19:4; Proverbs 1:24; Isaiah 28:16; Isaiah 53:1; Joel 2:32; Matthew 10:32; Mark 9:32; Luke 8:31; Acts 7:59; Acts 13:39; Acts 21:20; Romans 1:15; Romans 9:30-31; Romans 9:33; Titus 1:3

Notes: In Romans Chapter 10, Paul talks about the importance of confessing Jesus as Lord and Savior, and how that confession is necessary for salvation.

Key Passages in Romans 10

[scribeforchrist-blog]

Craving For Something Spiritual

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

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+ James 5:13 Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing praise.

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VERSE OF THE DAY

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+  1 Peter 2:2-3 Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good.

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** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM MATURE

I AM GROWING

I AM HEARING GOD

I AM LETTING GO OF OLD WAYS

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READ TIME: 7 minutes & 40 Seconds

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THOUGHTS:

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   When I crave something, I usually can't stop craving it until I have it. It can be cake, pies, ice cream, whatever. I want it, and I get it the next day. I think I have told you all about this new ice cream place here. I saw in an email that they had this new ice cream, and I wanted to try it, but it was packed each time I went by there.

  One day, I went, and they had changed their opening time. The next day, I couldn’t go, but this weekend, I didn’t care what I had to do. I was going to get that ice cream shop. Well, I got it. That night, I got home and sat down. I ate it, which was everything I hoped for and more, but I wanted to save some of it for the next day. But when I say the ice cream was great, it was terrific.

      Do you see how much I kept trying to get the ice cream? How many of us have a craving like this for God's word that we realize we must have and need it? How many of you see that we can't function

spiritually without it?? How many of us try to soak in his word?

Mathew 4:4 But He answered and said, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.’

Today's word says we should crave it like newborns crave milk. How many of us crave it daily to have it in our lives? A lot of us don’t because as we crave the word, it has the supernatural power to change what’s in us around us; it has the power to pierce even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit and the joints and marrow and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. It has this amazing power, and many of us are ready to read but not change.

     The word of God tells us to walk in a manner worthy, but how can we walk this way if we never read our word to walk in that way??? the only way to know it is to read it and not just read it but apply it; how many of you are applying the word to your lives?

  Psalm 34:8 Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

 We must taste the word and try to see how great God is because when we do, we will always go to him and make him our refuge. The problem is today, we make everything else a refuge and safety net, and we make everything else our everything, but do we do this with God?

      Psalm 9:10 Those who know your name trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you.

   The Holy Spirit tells us we must trust him; it's like our houses. We trust and believe that whoever built our homes did it right, so when we sleep at night, we won't have to worry about things on the outside getting in; we trust our accounts to hold our money, we trust our jobs to give us what we need from it but why can't we trust in God for everything,why can't we trust that when we pray to him, he hears us and that every craving that we look for or everything we look for in everything else we can have that with him.

  1 Corinthians 3:1-2 But I, brothers, could not address you as spiritual people, but as people of the flesh, as infants in Christ. I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for it. And even now, you are not yet ready,

  Some of us aren’t ready; we want to be ready for solid food, but just like infants, we can’t give them a jar of baby food if they aren’t at that stage in their lives; we have to make sure that a baby can handle that kind of food and that’s just like us, God has to make sure that the spiritual food we are partaking in we can digest it because if we can’t it will cause us to retreat to what we know that’s comfortable and that’s what we all are looking for, which is Comfort .

   Sometimes, in our walk, things aren’t comfortable; things will be challenging, but if we do it with God, if we go with God, it won’t harm us. Babies must be monitored when they eat to make sure the baby doesn’t choke. God is sitting back, He knows how much pressure will help change us and what kind of pressure will divert us. But we must trust in God, through our development.

  Having a craving for something is good, but we need to make sure what we are craving won’t change us. Paul knew what the Corinthians needed and what they could handle; 1 Corinthians 14:20 Brothers, do not be children in your thinking. Be infants in evil, but in your thinking, be mature”.

He told them not to be children in their thinking but to be mature in their thinking; we have to start growing and changing our mindset as we grow in God; we can’t stay the same even though a lot of us aren’t ready because we won’t let go of the bitterness and the petty actions, and unnecessary fights why because we don’t want to let go, but to grow in God we must let go!

  ***Today, we learned what we must and should do and that cravings are inevitable, but what are we craving? God wants us to grow to be bigger and better, and God wants us to let go of how we used to do things.

 Job 17:9 Yet the righteous holds to his way, and he who has clean hands grows stronger and stronger.

  We grow strong as we have clean hands; a lot of us don’t pay any attention to the activities we get into or the things we say, we just do whatever we feel, but as we live a clean life, we grow strong in God, and we grow stronger in our walk. Some of us must take the time to see where we are in our walk with Christ and what we need to improve. Have you asked him? If you haven’t asked him today, see what he says, and work on improving for him! ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

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PRAYER

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Heavenly Father, thank you for the word; today, we ask you to help us see what we need to improve on, help us seek you every day, and help us change according to you. Lord, help us also to crave things of the spirit. Lord, we give you our lives and praise you for everything. Lord, we need you so badly, and we realize this; we thank you in Jesus' Name Amen

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REFERENCES

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+ 2 Thessalonians 1:3 We ought always to thank God for you, brothers, as is right, because your faith is growing abundantly, and the love of every one of you for one another is increasing.

 

+ Romans 6:4 We were buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.

 

+ Hosea 6:3 Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains water the earth.

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FURTHER READINGS

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 Proverbs 16

Leviticus 16

1 Corinthians 1

Acts 12

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[dutchvanwinkle]

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 5 - Dutch x Reader

Hello again darlings! I hope those of you celebrating Easter / Ramadam / Passover are having a wonderful weekend, did you know this overlap only happens three times every century? How cool is that!! Whether you're observing a holiday or not, it's now time for us to all come together and fantasize about daddy Dutch :)

I would apologise for the wait between this chapter and the last, but I did say this fic would be relatively slow in updates. I wrote a good chuck of this chapter then decided I hated it, took some time away from it, came back, then realised it wasn't as bad as I'd made out in my head lol. It's a pretty fluffy one tbh, and even if it's not as long as the previous one I hope you still enjoy!

It's on ao3, too!

Summary: Your relationship with Dutch deepens when you spend more time with him after a stressful week.

Word count: 6,471

Content warnings: smut, mildly creepy dutch

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

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Despite everyone’s knowledge of the end of the academic year, not one of your group of friends took the responsibility of arranging the flat for you to all live in together for second year. So, once again, you and Karen were in the same one - with John, Abigail, Sean, and Javier across the hall in theirs. You didn’t mind much; you were all too deep in the habit of leaving your flats unlocked anyway so the others could wander in should they please. It was dumb, but you hadn’t been robbed yet and imagined that’s what it would take for you to change your ways. 

Abigail had made extra dinner and you were the first to claim the portion, skipping across the hall and ambling in with a grin on your face. The two of you ate and chatted with the TV filling the background noise. Karen had joined not long after, and the three of you found yourselves sprawled on the sofa, tired from a full day.  

Second year was noticeably harder, no more easing you into university life – the theory and assignments were tough. However, thanks to your hard work in the previous semester it wasn’t an impossible leap. It had been for some, Javier regularly coming around in an attempt to inconspicuously copy your coursework.  

Just as you were mentally preparing yourself for the next day, the last before the weekend, your phone buzzed. 

Naughty girl. 

Dutch. You cleared your throat, pausing a moment before opening his message. He hadn’t taken any liberties with his possession of your phone number, and your inbox had been decidedly empty since the last time you saw him. 

?? 

Was this the old-person way of flirting? Was it sexting? Hopefully, your response would allow room for clarification. 

I was just in my photo gallery. 

Oh. You smiled to yourself. Another message. 

I almost dropped my phone. 

Sorry, won’t happen again. 

It better happen again, miss. I’ve already made good use of it, and now I’m in need of more. 

Good god, the thought of him pleasuring himself to a photo of you brought heat all over your neck. “I’m just gonna use your bathroom,” you stood up to excuse yourself, getting no response from your friends. 

Once inside, you looked around, knowing full well it was empty and quickly flicked the lock on the door, before pulling your top over your head. Glancing over your reflection in the mirror, you tried to figure out the best angle that’d reveal enough but not too much. 

Eventually, you got an angle you were happy with, only your jaw in view and your tits on full display. You cropped the photo (including your bottom half was a bit too much, right now at least) when his name appeared in your notification bar again. 

Too far? 

Bless him, he could see you’d read his message but left him without a response for ten minutes. Without giving yourself time to chicken out, you sent the picture to him. 

Sorry, I was distracted. 

He read it instantly, and it took a full minute before you could see he was typing. Then the dots disappeared. Then reappeared. Then disappeared again. You smiled to yourself, pulling your top over your head and flushing the toilet for good measure, before venturing back out and returning to the sofa. Dutch finally decided on what to say once you’d made yourself comfy. 

Come see me this weekend. 

If only. A weekend being fucked repeatedly was just what you needed, exhaustion already settling into your mind thanks to your busy schedule being back in action. Unfortunately, said schedule was exactly why you couldn’t. 

Can’t, sorry. I’m working tomorrow and Saturday. 

Fuck work. I’ll pay you. 

“What are you smiling at?” 

You glanced up, Karen looking at you inquisitively, Abigail taking her attention off the TV in turn to see what the fuss was. 

“Nothing?” you said casually. 

“You’ve been grinning at that phone of yours for five minutes.” 

“I have not been grinning.”  

She raised a brow, the look on her face turning to intrigue. 

“Please tell me it’s a guy. Or a girl. Or anything with a pulse,” Abigail pleaded, and you tutted while Karen cackled. 

“I’ve told you I don’t have time for that crap! Besides, I’m perfectly fine as I am,” you said defensively, folding your arms and ignoring the buzz of a message on your phone. 

“We all need a good screw now and again,” Karen said plainly, Abigail nodding in agreement. 

Don’t we just. “Oh, and Maquire is providing that service well enough for you, is he?” 

She shot you a glare, and as she was about to retort the main door opened, the man himself trailed by Javier and John. 

“Yeah, alright,” John said, his phone held up against his ear while he set the bag of shopping on the counter. 

“Hello ladies,” Javier greeted you all, beginning to put away their communal shop which was pathetically void of nutrients and taken up mostly by cans of beer. 

Sean pulled off his boots, hopping a little before it gave and sighing proudly when it did. “Any of you want a drink?” 

You shook your head, as did Abigail, but Karen held her hand out. 

“Ah, that’s why I love ya,” he grinned, handing a can out to Karen who scoffed in disgust before snatching it from him. 

“Okay, fine, yeah. I can do that. See you later,” John said, hanging up his call and letting his phone drop into his pocket. 

“Everything okay?” Abigail asked while John played tetris stacking the beers in the fridge. 

“Yeah, just my dad. He’s coming down this weekend.” 

That got your attention. Surely not - 

“Says Tilly’s been angling to see the city. He was just checking I was free to spend time with them.” 

“Aw,” Abigail sat up, “will we get to see them?” 

John shrugged, and your phone buzzed again. 

I’m serious. read Dutch’s previous message to you, followed by his most recent one: Looking forward to seeing you. 

You neglected to respond just yet, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself. That man worked fast.  

“Where are you gonna take them?” 

“God knows. Knowing Dad,” John sat down beside Abigail, “he’ll have already drafted up a full itinerary.” 

You smirked at the thought, a warmth growing in your chest. 

- 

Dutch was fond of John’s friends. They were a decent bunch, and he’d been glad to see their familiar faces when he and Tilly arrived in the city the next morning, dropping their bags at the hotel before coming to visit John’s flat. He reminded himself repeatedly not to comment on the lack of cleanliness students seemed to thrive in. 

It was nice to see John, along with Javier who he’d watched grow up with his son. Abigail was extra friendly, and thanks to a little birdie he understood why. She was a nice girl. They were all nice. But the one he wanted to see the most was unfortunately yet to descend on the flat despite John’s assurance that everyone swings round all the time.  

“I’m going out for a cigarette,” Dutch announced, departing the flat and being met with the doorway to yours opposite him. He tried his luck, finding it unlocked, and mentally chastised you for being careless. He wasn’t sure which room was yours, though he thought it a good enough excuse to have wandered into the wrong flat should anyone ask. Two of the doors were ajar, and after a peek, he found them empty. The flat was quiet, and he decided there was no harm in trying the closed ones. He knocked on the next door, getting no response and so pushing it open. 

Dutch smiled to himself as the air entered his nose; it smelled just like you.  

Thanks to the strange layout, he could see the end of your bed and a slight bump under the duvet where your feet lay. “Tut tut,” he hummed as he took a couple of steps in, “you really should keep it locked – oh.” 

His brows pulled together as his voice died in his mouth at the sight of you fast asleep and bundled up in your bed, completely flat out. He debated waking you but was distracted by seeing the inside of your room for the first time. A little nosy never hurt anybody.  

Hands in his pockets, he observed the pictures up on your wall and smiled fondly at the ones including his drunken son. Then, he glanced over the perfume bottles lined up near your small desk mirror, then to the books and paper laid out beside your laptop accompanied by an empty mug from the previous day. It was then that he turned his attention back to you, hair ruffled with one arm out of the covers. 

Dutch sat on the edge of your bed and brushed a strand of hair from your peaceful face. It was enough to make you stir, and you cranked your eyes open. He smirked as he observed your expression, going from alarmed to relaxed when you realised it was him, then back to alarmed when you realised it was him.  

“You really should lock your flat, and your door,” he greeted. 

You rubbed your eyes, wondering if the man had come to visit you in a dream though it felt undeniably real as you remembered your conversation with John the previous day.  “Or perhaps,” you said around a yawn, “strange men shouldn’t let themselves in and sit on my bed.” 

“Strange men?” Dutch looked mildly offended. “I’d hate to know what you do with familiar men.” 

“Very funny,” you grumbled, pulling the covers up to your neck. “What time is it?” 

“Ten thirty. I didn’t think you were one to sleep in late.” His hand rested on your lower leg, and the added pressure was soothing and lessened your motivation further for starting your day. 

“I’m not. But I’ve got a long day today, so I’m treating myself,” you shut your eyes and felt Dutch shift his weight on the bed. You felt his warmth over you before you felt the kiss he pressed to your cheek, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of it. It awoke other unsavoury sensations that you usually repressed in the morning. 

It was as though he sensed it, brushing his hand up your leg and moving to kiss your jaw, an added tenderness compared to its predecessor. You sighed contently, the comfort of Dutch’s soft chuckle reaching your ears. There was no option but to give in, your eyes fluttering open as you shifted onto your back, allowing Dutch to manoeuvre himself on top of you. His face filled with pride, but when he moved in to kiss you, you put your hand up as a barricade.  

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” you explained, and he huffed a laugh. 

“I could care less. But, if you insist,” his hand travelled further up the path of your body, cupping your breast as his lips tended to your neck instead, which you bared for him gladly. 

“Was it really worth coming all this way?” you asked, lazily watching him trail his lips around your skin. 

“Of course,” he said, hardly breaking his path, “need I remind you of my lack of interest in desiring a thing. I prefer -” 

“- to have it, right.” Dutch smiled up at you, and the tardy realisation hit you that you were now finishing his sentences. “How was the drive up?” you asked quickly, hoping to alleviate any teasing forming in his mind. 

“Just swell,” he answered, trailing his hand underneath your pyjama top to knead your breasts. His fingers moved gently in circles, testing your tenderness as they neared your nipple and lightly tweaking the now erect buds. Then his mouth came down over the fabric, and he sucked one into his mouth, leaving a wet patch behind that he eyed fondly once he was done. 

“You know,” you set up on your elbows, craning your neck to look at the door, “I really should lock my door. Just in case.” 

Dutch placed his palm on your chest, applying pressure until you lay back down. “No no, you want to leave it unlocked, then you leave it unlocked.” 

“I’m serious,” you attempted to sit up again but damn he was strong, “John lets himself in all the time.” 

“Does he,” Dutch hummed, moving his head down to suck your nipple in again and released, “I ought to teach the boy some manners.” 

“Dutch, it’s not funny. Let me lock the -” 

As you tried to sit up Dutch applied his full weight onto you and mouthed at your neck while all the air was knocked from your lungs. Strong and heavy. It would be a comfort if you could only breathe, and grumbled incoherently at your body’s response to being trapped by him despite the danger of the situation.  

“Now,” Dutch cooed, lifting his head and running his thumb along your chin, “don’t you worry. I’ve been fit to burst since you sent me those pictures.” 

“I thought you -” 

“I did, but it’s not the same.” With that, he eased off slightly as you gradually accepted this was a risk you’d just have to take, and wrapped his hand around your inner thigh to shift your legs apart. “Huh, looks like I’m not the only one.” 

You frowned down to observe what he was looking at and were met with the moist material of your pyjama shorts. “Goddamnit.” 

Dutch chuckled while he trailed his fingers up and down your mound, and it wasn’t long before you were grinding up in time with his movements. He always seemed to know the exact pressure and pace you wanted, and often reigned it back some so as to keep you frustrated. You were about to ask him to get on with it, considering the risk and limited time you had before your day started, when he removed his hand to undo his jeans and pull out his frustrated-looking cock. The man didn’t even look at you, nor give you any warning, before moving your shorts to the side and sliding right in. And curse your body once again, allowing him the smoothest of passages. 

A sigh of relief left him, the sort one would make when sinking into a hot bath. He stayed there a moment, nosing at your neck and brushing his palm down your flank to your shorts, the fabric of which he bunched up in his hand. At least you weren’t wearing any underwear he would inevitably steal. 

“How could this not be worth the journey,” he mused, and you realised he was in fact talking to himself. Still, you sighed out a laugh. 

Dutch moved his torso off yours, straightening up to grab your outer thighs in each hand. His grip was tight, bruising almost, and he held you right where he wanted you as he pulled out and began thrusting in a slow, deep rhythm. His head tipped back, and you stayed watching him, the euphoric pleasure seeping over his face enough to keep you lubricated down below. It truly was nice to know you were the cause of such a response. Well, your body, at least. 

“Now,” his heavy gaze met yours, and he leaned forward to plant one hand on your headboard and left the other gripping your hip, “let’s get to it, shall we?” 

There was no room to answer before he deepened his thrusts, his thick cock thoroughly filling you. He was perfectly anchored to the bed and you, and being leant forward slightly enabled him to brush over the plush, pulsating spot inside you repeatedly. Swiftly building up your impending orgasm, you thanked your accommodation for not giving you squeaky beds despite their questionable quality.   

Dutch’s grunts sounded at the same time as his thrusts, his lips pressed together to limit any other noise and you did the same, quiet gasps leaving you on occasion. “You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he asked through a laboured breath. 

“Mhm,” you answered and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him further in and it was the last bit of motivation he needed to fuck you into your mattress until silently you came, back arching and hands gripping the duvet beneath. Dutch continued to fuck into you while your orgasm ebbed away, and you bore through the over-stimulation until he pressed his hips as far forward as he could, filling you up as you felt his cock twitch inside you.  

Your breath evened out while he dropped his head forward to run a hand through his hair. “My memory did not do you justice.” 

“That right?” you tilted your head in amusement and he hummed his agreement while slowly pulling out and doing a poor job of catching his spend. Guess you’d be changing your sheets today.  

“Mind if I use your bathroom?” he asked and you gestured to the door to your ensuite in agreement. While he was there, you pulled some wipes out from your side table and cleaned yourself up. 

“What have you got planned for today?” you asked as he ventured back in, doing up the fasten of his belt. 

“Probably get some food, walk around and see what we can find,” he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, gesturing to your fire alarm that was tactically covered by a sock. “You really are a naughty girl.” 

You snorted a laugh and sat up, while he leaned on your desk and cracked your window open to blow the smoke out. “Are they not going to wonder where you are now?” 

“I told them I was going for a cigarette.” 

“Huh, smart.” 

He raised his brows in agreement as he took another drag. “What time are you working until today?” 

“Late,” you shrugged. “I’m on until close.” 

Dutch tutted. “Well, my hotel isn’t far from your work, so you may as well stay with me. I’ll wait up.” 

“I don’t recall telling you where I worked.” 

He smirked, tapping the ash out the window. “You didn’t.” 

“Then how -” 

“I have my ways. I can be rather resourceful when I want to be.” 

“No shit,” you scoffed, ignoring the slight creepiness of him having that knowledge. “But no, thank you, I’ll be too tired.” 

“The hotel bed is very comfortable.” 

“I said no. Besides, you have Tilly with you,” you said, Dutch shifting his position to be half-seated on your desk. 

“She has her own room.” After a final drag, he stubbed out his cigarette and flicked it out your window. He walked over and sat on your bed again, taking your hand in his. “Just consider it?” 

“Fine,” you acquiesced, “I will see how I feel after my shift.” 

“That’s my girl,” he said, a pleased smile forming on his face and moved in to kiss your cheek before standing. “Be sure to say bye before you head off.” 

“Whatever you say,” you rolled your eyes, and with that, he departed, and the urge to shower became urgent. 

You had ten minutes to spare after getting washed and dressed, and couldn’t find anything to busy yourself with so you ended up visiting John’s flat after all. Your friends were all there when you entered, Tilly offered you a hug, and Mr Van der Linde greeted you casually when you entered the flat, like he hadn’t been pounding into you less than an hour ago. 

“Here she is,” John smiled, “you feeling better?” 

Dutch’s expression hardened so fast you could feel it, and you grumbled internally at John once again unintentionally putting his foot in it. “Yeah, fine,” you said quickly, “just needed some sleep.” 

“Perhaps you should skip some lectures and catch up some more,” John teased. 

“You’re actually going?” Javier scoffed from the sofa, taking his attention away from Tilly’s phone where she appeared to be showing him a video. 

“You know I have to,” you deflected, walking over to sit on the arm of the sofa beside him. 

“Eighty percent, you can stand to miss a few.” 

With a playful tilt of your head, you raised your brows accusingly. “Not worth getting into the habit.” 

“Get me a copy of the notes?” he asked sweetly, smiling up at you and taking your hand in his to place a kiss on the back of it. As always, you could never resist, nodding your understanding with a smirk. “Ah, Mr Van der Linde -” Javier’s expression dropped as he look at the man in question, “don’t tell my pa, okay?” 

Before he could respond, Sean decided to get a word in. “My da doesn’t mind me not going, says it’s better I don’t get my head filled by those pompous academic types. N-no offence, Mr Van der Linde,” he held his arms up placatingly. 

“Now, why would I be offended by that?” he asked, genuinely, though Sean visibly began to sweat. 

“No reason! No reason at all -” 

“And on that note,” you cleared your throat, deciding to save Sean before he inevitably fell further into his self-made hole. “I should get going. Nice to see you both again,” you said, mainly to Tilly, and hoped Dutch’s devious expression in response wasn’t as noticeable to anyone else. 

- 

If another person asked you to make a cocktail, you’d scream. It’s a Friday, do these people not know how filled to the brim with students this place was? You weren’t even sure why you offered cocktails at this stupid hour; everyone was too inebriated to even appreciate it, and who needs to spend extra on a drink when they’re out to get as plastered as they can, anyway? Just order a shot and be done with it - 

“Whiskey old-fashioned, please.” 

You turned, half-ready to lose your job for punching a patron and were met with a smiling Dutch on the other side of the bar. 

“Seriously?” you gestured around yourself, both as to why he’d ordered that and why he was there in the first place. 

“Why not?” 

“It’s busy,” you grumbled, making an exasperated show of preparing the glass. 

“Fine,” he chuckled, “just a double on ice will do.” 

You offered him a grateful smile, scooping a few ice cubes out of the tray.  

“Do you always speak to customers that way?” 

“Only the annoying ones,” you shrugged. 

“I’m in half a mind to tell your manager,” he raised his brows, leaning on the bar in a way that enhanced his arms as his burgundy shirt stretched around them. 

“Do that and I’ll ask you for ID. You forget I also have the power to withhold... other things,” you slid the drink over to him, and as you were about to announce the total, he handed you a twenty. “It doesn’t cost that much.” 

“It’s a tip.” 

“No,” you lamented, refusing to be his charity case, “it all goes in a pot anyway.” 

“Consider it an apology for my being a difficult customer,” he answered immediately. “And as a sweetener, so you don’t withhold your oh so generous offerings.” 

You tutted and placed the change to sit stubbornly in front of him on the bar. “I -” your attention was pulled to someone new coming up to the bar, “hold on a second.” 

After pouring out two vodka cokes for them, you returned to Dutch. “Where’s John and Tilly?” 

“John’s back at his flat, I think, and Tilly’s sleeping at the hotel,” he sipped at his drink, and you smirked as he tried to hide that this whiskey was not as fancy as his palate was used to.  

“Will Tilly be alright on her own?” you asked. 

“Of course. I plan to return soon anyway; I just need to pick something up first.” 

“What do you need to – oh,” you realised what – or rather who – he was referring to. “I haven’t agreed to come back with you. Besides, I’m still working.” 

“When do you usually finish?” 

“When everyone leaves,” you narrowed your gaze at him accusingly. 

“Ah,” he hummed in amusement. “It appears to be quietening down.” 

He was right. The crowd was certainly beginning to thin out, and you hoped that in true student fashion, they would all leave to go somewhere busier once they noticed. “I still haven’t agreed.” 

Dutch’s response was the inching of his fingers closing to yours, brushing them over your own secretively. “I would really like you to.” 

“I’m really, really tired, Dutch.” 

“That’s fine, you can go straight to sleep,” at the raise of your brows, he continued with a smile that inched on his face, “I mean it.” 

“I could be a while,” you excused yourself further. 

He finished the last of his drink, pausing a beat before finishing it. “Just text me when you’re done. Otherwise, I’ll stay here until everyone else has left.” 

“Okay, alright,” you rubbed your brow, supposing it couldn’t be too bad if you did just go there to sleep. By now, your trust in him had grown to the point where you believed he would’ve put all the measures in place to ensure the two of you weren’t caught. “I’ll text you.” 

“Good,” he said, pleased, and stood. “I’ll be going now, then.” 

“You mean you don’t want another one of those?” you pointed to his empty glass. 

He gave you an almost weary look, and a laugh slipped from you. 

“I’m only kidding.” 

He shook his head, and for the briefest of moments your heart skipped as you saw his rare, genuine smile. 

“See you later,” you concluded the conversation. 

Dutch folded his jacket over the arm and offered you a secretive wink. “I look forward to it.” 

- 

It was another hour before the bar closed, and you swiftly grabbed your bag from the back room, pulling your phone out to message Dutch at the earliest opportunity. 

You opted for waiting outside, a small way down the street in case any of your colleagues caught you swanning off with an older man who’d visited the bar. He didn’t leave you waiting for long. 

“That was sooner than I expected,” he greeted you, and on the short walk to the hotel, you answered his questions about how your shift went. 

“This is an expensive hotel,” you slowed on the approach, and Dutch rested his hand comfortably on your lower back. Somehow, you always seemed to forget just how rich he was. 

“You think they won’t let you in?” he teased, and you nodded genuinely. “Relax, darling.” 

That worked. Your body softened involuntarily, and walking in with him felt natural, easy. What you’d expected otherwise you weren’t sure, still hyper-aware of how you must look to a passer-by at this moment. Or perhaps they didn’t care. Dutch certainly didn’t. 

The two of you took the lift, walking down the well-decorated hallway until Dutch stopped and swiped his card on a door. You let out a breath once inside, kicking off your shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed without a second thought.  

“You and Javier seem to have an interesting relationship,” he commented, untying his shiny black shoes and placing them neatly by the door. 

“What do you mean by that?” you asked defensively. 

Dutch shrugged casually, clearly a façade. “You seem close. I wondered if there was anything there.” 

You scowled at him, too tired for this line of questioning. “Obviously not -” you paused, remembering yourself despite your newfound anger. “Well, we might’ve had a drunken kiss on our first week, but it didn’t progress beyond that.” 

“Hm. I thought as much.” 

“What is wrong with you?” you said sharply, “why would you ask that?” 

“I was only curious,” he held his hands up before unbuttoning his shirt. “I didn’t realise it was a crime to ask.” 

“It’s not. You’ve no right to be jealous.” 

“Who said I was?” he asked, leaning into a chuckle and it only aggravated you even more. 

You huffed out some of your anger. “It’s pretty obvious. I’m not stupid. And you’re not as good at hiding things as you think.” 

His face altered from unbothered to mildly entertained. “I don’t see why you’re getting so defensive. It was only a question.” 

Your mouth opened to let a retort pass through, but none came. The fucker wasn’t wrong, he had only asked. In your exhausted state, you questioned whether you’d read too much into it, and frowned at the ground while rubbing the stress from your brow. Keeping so much contained was a problem in times like this, when emotions escaped out into the world. “I don’t - I just -” you began, feeling yourself getting worked up. 

“Okay, alright, darling. Come here,” Dutch sat beside you, opening his arms and you tucked yourself into the warm embrace. 

“Sorry,” you sighed quietly, “this is why I didn’t want to come. I get grouchy when I’m tired.” 

“I can tell,” he teased, but the kiss placed on the crown of your head balanced it out. “You’ve been sick, John said?” 

“Not sick. Just tired this week, that’s all.” 

Dutch paused, tightening his arms around you. “It doesn’t look like you’re going to have any time to rest in the near future.” 

“I’ll take a weekend off work at something,” you mumbled, almost on autopilot as it wasn’t the first time you’d been berated for being too much of a try-hard. 

“Why do I get the impression you’re lying?” he asked gently, and your responding laugh was mirthless. “I like most things about you, except this.” 

“Except what?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder to catch his eyes. 

“This incessant need you have to work yourself to fatigue. It’s unhealthy.” 

“It’s temporary,” you insisted. 

“If you would only let me -” 

“Don’t you dare offer me money again.” That was a place you’d never go to, a sense of pride far too strong to accept his help. You could do it. You just... need to complain occasionally. And maybe have someone that could help alleviate the stress using tried and true methods. “Wait, you said most. What else don’t you like about me?” 

He paused, as though he hadn’t expected that question. “I suppose how little time I get to spend with you.” 

“That’s a cop-out.” 

Dutch laughed, releasing you from his embrace and standing to continue getting undressed. A feeling resembling awe settled in your body at how proudly he stood, in only his underwear, while finding a pair of joggers to wear for bed. He hooked his thumbs into the band of his pants but paused, slyly looking over his shoulder at you. You swiftly averted your gaze. 

“You’re allowed to look, I don’t mind,” he said with amusement, and you only looked back once you’d heard his underwear come off and joggers come on. You were far too tired to go another round, but you feared your body would decide otherwise if you caught a glance of him fully nude. “Here,” he passed a plain t-shirt to you, “I suspect you don’t have anything to wear.” After you took it, his face fell slightly. “Not that I mind you sleeping with nothing on.” 

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, for whatever reason wanting to get dressed where he couldn’t see. “Does the hotel have spare toothbrushes?” 

“Sure, in the bathroom,” he pulled back the cover of the bed and got in, clasping his hands over his stomach. “Help yourself to whatever.” 

You did, brushing your teeth, washing your face, and changing into Dutch’s t-shirt. It was clean, but it still held his underlying scent. He was in the same position when you re-entered the bedroom and lifted the covers for you to get in. “Thanks,” you said, laying down and marvelling at how soft the bed was, a yawn escaping thanks to your newfound comfort. 

Dutch reached over and flicked the switches above the side table, turning off all the lights except the lamp next to him. Then, he brushed the back of his knuckle tenderly over your temple, and it took all you had to fight an immediate descent into sleep. You took the opportunity to shuffle closer to him, and he extended his arm so you could lay on his chest while he was propped up a little against the headboard. “Get some sleep, now,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble in the low light of the room. 

As you melted into him some more, the bare skin of his chest warm and soothing, he put on his glasses from the bedside table and picked up his book. “Aren’t you sleeping?” 

“I’ll sleep better if I read a little first. Don’t mind me, though.” 

“Okay.” You pecked his lips, and once you were re-settled on his chest sleep came easier than ever. 

- 

The gentle motion of fingertips slowly grazing the middle of your back was the first sensation to greet you upon awakening, and you blinked your eyes open to the hazy filter of morning sun through the window. You were nestled comfortably into Dutch, still using his chest as a pillow and glanced up, finding the man himself in somewhat of a daydream as he looked out the window. He noticed the small movement, though, and offered you a warm smile. “Morning.” 

“Morning,” you half-yawned, stubbornly closing your eyes to nestle further into his chest. How he was more comfortable than the bed itself you weren’t sure. 

“Sleep well?” he asked. 

“Like a log. You?” 

“Just fine. You’re nice to wake up to.” He placed his palm flat on your back, holding you to him. 

“You aren’t so bad yourself. What time are you seeing John today?” 

“I think we’re going for a late breakfast; I suppose whenever he’s ready. We have a bit of time, if you want anything brought up to the room?” 

“No, no, I’m okay. Thanks though. Actually,” you shifted up onto your elbow, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and internally deciding you preferred Dutch’s hair in the morning, a little messy from the night. “I wouldn’t mind using that shower.” 

“Be my guest,” he said politely. It was nice to lay like this with him, you’d expected him to have his hands all over you as soon as you’d awoken, though perhaps he was tired. If anything, he was more reserved than usual, and you hoped he wasn’t beginning to have second thoughts. You knew better than to question him first thing in the morning and moved to a seated position before swinging your legs off the bed.  

“Appreciate it.” You picked your clothes up from their crumpled heap on the floor and carried them into the bathroom with you before having the most glorious shower you’d had in some time.  

Checking your phone once you were finished, you realised you’d been in the bathroom for a full thirty minutes. Whoops. 

“Sorry,” you said as soon as you opened the door, Dutch seated on the bed, now dressed and rolling up his sleeves. “That shower was a little too nice.” 

The smile Dutch offered you was warmer, more awake, and more like himself than he had been previously. “Good,” he offered out his hand which you promptly took and pulled you towards him to stand between his legs, and he wrapped his arms around your lower back. “I’d say you’ve earned it.” 

You chuckled easily, glad to find out nothing was wrong, and he simply hadn’t woken up yet.  

“What time are you working?” he asked, while you ran a hand through his hair and settled it on his shoulder. 

“Early afternoon. I’m off tomorrow, but I’ve got work to do – what time are you leaving?” 

“About midday. Don’t worry about it,” he placed a kiss on your sternum, “I’d prefer it if you rested instead.” 

“I’ll try,” you nodded with a snort. 

“I would like,” he stood up, holding your hands in his, “to see you more frequently, if possible.” 

“I’d like that,” you looked up at him, and the deal was sealed with a kiss. “I’m not sure exactly when, but -” 

“We’ll work something out. I have your number,” he said conspiratorially, an alluring half-smile making him even more irresistible than he already was. “But I fear Tilly will be up soon, I don’t want her catching you on the way out.” 

“Good call,” you agreed, breaking out of the embrace to pick up your bag and double-check you hadn’t forgotten anything. “Have a good weekend.” 

“We will,” he pulled you in for a kiss, one that was tender and slow and left you a little breathless once you’d parted your lips from his. “Thanks for coming to stay with me.” 

“I’ve got to do my part for the community,” you shrugged, and his face dropped into playful annoyance. 

“Oh, that’s how it is?” 

You laughed, edging towards the door though he managed to pat your ass in reprimand before you were out of reach. “I might add this to my volunteering work on my CV, come to think of it.” 

Dutch laughed heartily, pressing his tongue into his cheek and shaking his head. “You truly can be a wicked woman.” 

With a proud, final smile, you stepped forward for a kiss goodbye then opened the door, checking the coast was clear before stepping out. At the risk of Tilly hearing you, you offered Dutch a simple nod before departing, which he returned. 

It wasn’t a short walk back to your accommodation, but it wasn’t long, either. The weather was good, and you were thankful it’d been nice for Dutch and Tilly’s visit up. It wasn’t lost on you that there was a slight spring in your step, every meeting with Dutch making your heart feel that extra bit lighter, and life feel an extra bit more accommodating. After last time, you’d attributed it to the sex, to the rush and release that was a rarity in your everyday. But perhaps it was him, and while this newfound feeling was a nice one to experience, the low hum of guilt and the prospect of where this avenue of exploration would lead you left a slightly bitter taste in your mouth.  

There was a possibility that Dutch’s philosophical suggestions were imprinting on you, but you actively decided not to dwell on the many possibilities and instead focus on that, for now, you had something that made your chest grow warm and your breath seep from your lungs. Perhaps this was what you were missing, a way to dispel your worries and fears even for a short while. And perhaps, on some level, this was something you deserved. 

[sollucets]

rowan’s gmmtv2024 report:

hi everyone im back from my interview (i dont know yet but i’m hopeful, cross your fingers for me) and im supposed to take a nap before work but i have to yell a bit first you understand

(positives)

1. pluto���…. oh my GOD

you guys dont get it i was Really into midnight museum june. i tried my best to watch a lot of things i really didnt like just for namtan tipnaree. i like her So Lots. and namtanfilm i just fully….. had no idea. absolutely none. but it works!! i love it!!! the plot is bonkers (your dead(?) twin was the girlfriend of a now-blind girl that you're lying to now?) and under normal circumstances i wouldnt be interested but namtanfilm Killed this trailer and i also know im going to have Bad second couple syndrome re: whatevers going on with ciize. i love ciize so much.

this was so so soooo good n unexpected . girls kissing onscreen at My gmmtv announcement? :') plus their bathtub scene & that princesses moment.. yeah. that fucks

2. my golden blood

photo proof of me going mildly ballistic about the rumors last week. i did indeed say a few unholy things shortly after this. and to have it be a VAMPIRE BL? gods save us all im going to be so annoying. i was a twilight kid you know it im going to shovel this into my face with abandon

im so down for vampire au fanfic main character princess gawin honestly. wanted by supernatural creatures for his sexy special blood! bridal carried! blood on his university top!!!! i love it i love it i love it

is this objectively a tad embarrassing? yes. are the special effects painfully cheesy? yes. do i care? no 💜

3. peaceful property

this was just so fun to watch the trailer :’) i really love the found family vibes i was getting plus the over the top ghost shenanigans. i’m a casual tay tawan enjoyer & i do really love jan (alex&nim / newjan in warp effect were very fun to me). the trailer felt very warm n fun and bright, so im down. im into it

4. the trainee

we are in “sure i’ll watch that” territory now instead of extreme excitement but i thought this trailer was really fun & cute. i love view, obviously, so the amount of screentime her character got was good for me, and im 👀👀 about those girls. and offgun’s relationship seemed really fun & genuine :’) this seems nice! dont let me down!

5. wandee goodday

i think this looks fun! its a higher heat but still silly, which suits, and it appears to have fake dating which is a weakness trope of mine. also this is one of my bingo squares (adult non-office bl) so yes absolutely ill watch this. thank you p’golf but Please can we get podd Something this time

(mixed feelings)

6. kidnap

i have notably dissonant emotions about ohm pawat (lets not get into it) but i do actually enjoy this kind of forced proximity plotline even if i fear what theyll do with the opening kidnapper/kidnapee relationship. i feel… Something…. about this? yes. something is being felt. there is hope for me here, maybe, perhaps. really though if they want to keep him they should give ohm a smiley role again someday. it feels like everything ive seen him in since bb is all…. violence generational trauma death etc (for the worse imo)

7. gemfourth kiekoi

i think they can do it and it’ll be cute... gemfourth suit aoki and iida well. its just…. i dont know, i have an instinctive ‘noooo’ reaction to this remake. i like kiekoi soso much and i worry a lot. it does not have the exact charm for me.

also for me i wanted something a little different out of gemfourth. they have the range. but again, i do think theyll do well enough with this? so i'm mostly just being..... idk. :<

8. we are

i will at the very least attend e1! but this is too many couples for me if im honest, and they dont seem to be gunning to do anything super interesting. i do love aouboom & i like pondphuwin a lot (i Love pond’s hair in this trailer btw bless) but …. im not invested enough to make it interesting on its own. and [pouty baby voice] i wanted aouboom leads

(negative but ill try to be brief)

9. ossan’s love (the most negative of them all. look away. im so sorry earthmix i love you)

you guys are going to give earth pirapat a fucking complex before he even turns 30. he BETTER be playing haruta (i know hes not). this is just so silly!!! gmmtv doesnt deserve to have this one! this is not right for so many reasons but the most important is that they have no actual correctly aged men. no no no i am so so opposed. and theres not even a trailer 😰 you guys cut that shit out

10. ploy’s yearbook

looks…okay, its giving 55:15 a little bit, but the filmjoong adopted siblings romance threw me so violently that i doubt ill even consider touching it. absolutely not, you guys. gmmtv failing to be normal about siblings yet again! even though i like several of these actresses a lot i really.. i cant do it. also..... is earth a high schooler or is he forty.,, i feel like they're gaslighting us somehow. pairing him with namtan will not improve this situation for me you can't get out of it so easy

(miscellaneous extra commentary no one asked for)

11. only boo (?)

this looks cute? but not in a way where ill watch it unless i have nothing else going on. also unless im mistaken... was that milkbook??? innovation. love it

12. high school frenemies

those boys should be being gay about it instead of whatever shit they're actually doing. very nearly gayer than some of the bl trailers. i do not like this kind of genre thing but viewjune are there so ill still at least consider it.

13. summer nights

incredible how little i can care about something so fast. i'm not like, seethingly angry or anything but it's incredible, truly, how fast any trace of interest dropped away

i dont have anything else to say about the trailers! i will not be addressing the music here as it pains me in many ways.

finally, the personal elephant in the room: no firstkhaotung at all :< you guys know what i am, so obviously i indulged in a little dramatics about it this morning but i do understand. there's a part two that we've now been thoroughly assured they'll be present in, and also they have a show that's actively airing right now, so i'm not too worried. i did sort of expect a minor role for one or both of them at the very least though? but if they actually get a break out of this i'll be happy. please rest boys

(also khaotung on school rangers is, objectively, hilarious. sorry baby they're gonna make you do tasks)

okay! that's all! perhaps nobody wanted to know this

[stormyoceans]

For very important science research - what are the best scenes where Puen and Talay touch/hold hands????

A GIRL MUST SUPPORT SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH IN ANY WAY SHE CAN SO HAVE MY TOP 10 PUENTALAY HAND TOUCHING/HAND HOLDING MOMENTS PRESENTED (mostly) WITHOUT COMMENT TO PRESERVE MY SANITY OR WHATEVER'S LEFT OF IT

1) the hand holding after their reunion in episode 11. THE COMFORT THE REASSURANCE THE INTIMACY THE LOVE!!!!!!!

2) talay holding onto puen's hands as puen hugs him in episode 12. idk what to tell you except that this makes me rabid in ways i can't even begin to comprehend and much less explain.

3) puen holding onto talay's wrist during the greyllery confession in ep 8. well okay im not sure if this can count as a hand touch but the idea of puen having to ground himself like that because he can't believe talay actually said he likes him is. A LOT.

4) the pinky promises in episode 3 and episode 11. once again im not sure if it counts but they're incredibly important for their journey so i had to include them.

i also find it interesting that at the beginning of episode 3, when they make a deal to live the best life they can in the alternate universe (which puen ends up misinterpreting), they actually shake hands but then at the end they switch to a pinky promise (more intimate and personal).

(those veins tho..... I MEAN WHAT WHO SAID THAT)

5) talay holding puen's hand to calm him down at the premiere of their first movie in episode 5.

6) puen doing the exact same thing at the premiere of their second movie in episode 10.

puen grabbing talay's hand and still holding it while they take group pictures before that is very good too.

7) puen holding talay's hand and kissing it during the car ride in episode 12 after talay draws letters on puen's palm.

8) the hand holding day in our skyy episode 1 gave us some really great ones GOD BLESS

9) puen holding talay's hand to his face while they recreate the scene from their movie in episode 9.

10) right in front of up's popcorn in episode 9. or more like IN his popcorn. GOD THEY'RE INSUFFERABLE AND I THINK UP AND AOU DESERVED TO MAKE FUN OF THEM MORE

AS I ANSWER YOU IM ACTUALLY REALIZING THERE ARE SO MANY MORE MOMENTS THAN I INITIALLY THOUGHT AND IM HAVING AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS ABOUT MY CHOICES SO HAVE A COUPLE OF BONUS ONES

+ the ultimate bonus

[orthodoxadventure]

2nd Saturday of Great Lent: Memorial Saturday

Commemorated on March 30

Only Creator, with wisdom profound, You mercifully order all things, and give that which is needed to all men: Give rest, O Lord, to the souls of Your servants who have fallen asleep, for they have placed their trust in You, our Maker and Fashioner, and our God.

Saturday is the day which the Church has set aside for the commemoration of faithful Orthodox Christians departed this life in the hope of resurrection to eternal life. Since the Divine Liturgy cannot be served on weekdays during Great Lent, the second, third, and fourth Saturdays of the Fast are appointed as Soul Saturdays when the departed are remembered at Liturgy.

In addition to the Liturgy, kollyva (wheat or rice cooked with honey and mixed with raisins, figs, nuts, sesame, etc.) is blessed in church on these Saturdays. The kollyva reminds us of the Lord’s words, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24).The kollyva symbolizes the future resurrection of all the dead. As Saint Simeon of Thessalonica (September 15) says, man is also a seed which is planted in the ground after death, and will be raised up again by God’s power. Saint Paul also speaks of this (I Cor. 15:35-49).

It is customary to give alms in memory of the dead in addition to the prayers we offer for their souls. The angel who spoke to Cornelius testifies to the efficacy of almsgiving, “Your prayers and your alms have ascended as a memorial before God” (Acts 10:4).

Memorial services for the dead may be traced back to ancient times. Chapter 8 of the Apostolic Constitutions recommends memorial services with Psalms for the dead. It also contains a beautiful prayer for the departed, asking that their voluntary and involuntary sins be pardoned, that they be given rest with the Patriarchs, Prophets, and Apostles in a place where sorrow, suffering, and sighing have fled away (Isaiah 35:10). Saint John Chrysostom mentions the service for the dead in one of his homilies on Philippians, and says that it was established by the Apostles. Saint Cyprian of Carthage (Letter 37) also speaks of our duty to remember the martyrs.

The holy Fathers also testify to the benefit of offering prayers, memorial services, Liturgies, and alms for the dead (Saint John Chrysostom, Saint Cyril of Jerusalem, Saint John of Damascus, etc.). Although both the righteous and those who have not repented and corrected themselves may receive benefit and consolation from the Church’s prayer, it has not been revealed to what extent the unrighteous can receive this solace. It is not possible, however, for the Church’s prayer to transfer a soul from a state of evil and condemnation to a state of holiness and blessedness. Saint Basil the Great points out that the time for repentance and forgiveness of sins is during the present life, while the future life is a time for righteous judgment and retribution (Moralia 1). Saint John Chrysostom, Saint Gregory the Theologian, and other patristic writers concur with Saint Basil’s statement.

By praying for others, we bring benefit to them, and also to ourselves, because “God is not so unjust as to forget your work and the love which you showed for His sake in serving the saints...” (Heb. 6:10).

[Text from OCA]

With the saints give rest, O Christ, to the souls of Your servants, where there is neither sickness nor sorrow, and no more sighing, but life everlasting.

[justsomekpopstuff]

Get to Know the Stay!

Thank you @seungfl0wer for the tag! Wishing you well!! You will also see very quickly that I am horribly indecisive lol

1: What’s your current bias line?

Current biases are Bang Chan and Changbin, with the bias wrecker being Lee Know!

2: Who’s the one that made you Stan?

Felix actually! The first time I saw him I was like "how old is this kid? where is his mother??" and then I heard his VOICE and I was like "oh he is GOING places". Then I slowly got to know more about all the rest of the boys on the elimination show (what a time THAT was to be on kpop tumblr, lemme tell you) and now I'm here all these years later!

3: What song was your first?

Hellevator! I was there for the elimination show, but REALLY got into them once they debuted.

4: What’s your current favorite song?

I have a soft spot for "Maniac" and "My Pace" still (I know, older discography, don't judge). Off the new album though, "JJAM" is probably my favorite.

5: What members personally resembles yours the most?

Oh gosh, probably Bang Chan? Used to being the caretaker, the responsible party, kind and caring, but also having a pretty strong gremlin energy too I would say is a pretty close description of both of us.

6: If you had to pick a specific racha which would you choose?

Paboracha bless them. If I wasn't so similar to Bang Chan I'd probably be a member of Paboracha too 😂

7: What’s one attribute of the members do you like the most? (Example: Chans dimples)

Oooo that's a good question...Felix's freckles? I'm endeared by them. Han and Changbin's cheeks are a close second. (and I do mean FACE cheeks, I promise)

8: What’s your favorite album?

A tie between "ATE" and "NoEasy" I think.

9: Do you have any albums?

Ironically, I have a version of both "ATE" and "NoEasy" lol I'm super behind on them in terms of album ownership (i am ashamed of this fact)

10: Have you been to a concert?

I have not been to a Stray Kids concert! I haven't been able to afford it, even this time around...One day, maybe! I'd love to see them!

11: Who’s your favorite duo?

Oooo its tie between the Aussies (Bang Chan and Felix) and The Married Couple (Changbin and Hyunjin)

12: Favorite cover/solo songs:

I think "Stars and Raindrops" by Seungmin from the SKZ-REPLAY album? I have that song on multiple "relaxation" playlists, and his voice is just incredible.

13: Favorite SKZOO?

WolfChan and Jiniret!

14: If you had a day with one member what would you wanna do with them?

Oh my god where do I even start...I would say either a day doing touristy goofy fun things with Felix and enjoying the sunshine OR a day going to do artsy things like museums and art classes with Hyunjin!

15: Who’s your favorite singing voice?

In terms of singing, Seungmin and Bang Chan to me have some incredible vocals. For rapping though, even though Felix's voice is definitely the first one I recognize, I ALWAYS find myself absolutely going WILD whenever Changbin raps.

16: Who’s your favorite to watch dance?

Hyunjin and Lee Know. They both have such incredible flow, technique, and reflexes that its hard to not be completely mesmerized by them when they dance!

17: Do you have a favorite SKZ Code?

Oh I love any time they cause chaos, but the ones that stick out to me are the Chuseok Special where the Skz Family returned (Hyunjin's scream in that episode spoke to my soul lol) as well as the recent Go! Poolside episode.

18: Favorite MV?

"Hellevator" will always have a soft spot in my heart because it was their first, but I also loved the "Chk Chk Boom" mv

19: Who do you think you’d be best friends with?

Ooooo that's a good question...I don't know actually! My best guess is Bang Chan or Lee Know because we're around the same age and have a lot of similarities in personality and humor? I genuinely could not tell, my mutuals could probably answer this better!

20: Let’s feed those delusions, Who are you picking for a date and what are you doing?

YEEEEES I'm always down for some delulu feeding. I could say something stereotypical (*cough* bang chan nap date *cough*), but I'll go for something different. I would LOVE a, golden hour walk through the city with Changbin, doing some window shopping, that ends with takeout and a movie night and some sweets? Matching sweaters will be a requirement. We get the balance of good exercise with a walk AND some soft domestic time with the movie night. Perfection (in my opinion).

I now tag (no pressure!): @vesvosmozhno @yoonguurt @sheerfreesia007 @starlost-mochi-x and @multi-stantrash and any of my other followers/mutuals who want to do this!

[cmpho101]

The Beauty of the Land of The Muslims

Photo #1 : The Kaaba (Block Box) is the direction that Muslims from all over the globe face while praying each of their five daily prayers. The Kaaba is located in Mecca and its walls were erected by none other than Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham) [peace be upon him] thousands of years prior to Moses [P.B.U.H.] and prior to Jesus [P.B.U.H.]. They are all mentioned in the Bible as well as the Quran. Christians, Jews and Muslims all claim Ibrahim (Abraham) [P.B.U.H.] hence the term “Abrahamic Religions.” Although all claim him, it is believed by Muslim that we have the right to do so because of his attempt to only worship one God and staying away from worshipping other people or idols.

Photo #2 : Mount Hira was where the Prophet Mohammed [P.B.U.H] would seclude himself from all the trials and tribulations of indecency, impurities and association of partners with Allah which is believed by Muslims to be the worst sin. It is said by Muslims that during the month of Ramadan, while in a cave inside this mountain, Jibreal (Gabriel), the chief angel, came to the Prophet Mohammed [P.B.U.H.] and recited the first couple of verses of the last and final revelation that Allah would give humanity, The Quran.

Photo #3 : Masjid Quba was the first masjid that the Prophet Mohammed [P.B.U.H] prayed in after being exiled from Mecca. One day, there were Muslims praying in the Mosque when the Prophet [P.B.U.H] received revelation and was told to change the direction of our prayers. Muslims, Jews, and Christian’s used to face the same direction, Jerusalem, while praying but it is believed that Allah told them to change in order to differentiate Muslims from the other Abrahamic faiths.

Photo #4 : Al Masjid an Nabawi (The Prophet’s [P.B.U.H] Mosque) is the second holiest place in Islam, second to only Masjid Al Haram (where the Kaaba is located.) The Prophet [P.B.U.H.] helped build this Mosque but obviously wasn’t able to see the mosque at its final form.

Photo #5 : The rooftop of Al Masjid an Nabawi where you can feel a nice breeze, read some Quran, and drink Zam Zam water. Zam Zam water is a sacred well located in Mecca, near the Kaaba. It holds significant importance for Muslims because it is believed to be miraculously provided by Allah for the Prophet Ibrahim's wife, Hajar, and their son Isma'il [Peace be upon all of them]. Muslims visiting Mecca drink Zam Zam water for its spiritual significance and blessings. The craziest thing about Zam Zam is, it was a little well yet it has quenched the thirst of millions in Mecca, and millions in Madina on a daily basis for over 5000 years.

Photo #6 : This graveyard was a reminder that stopped me in my tracks. Most of the people here have been dead for way longer than they’ve been alive. It reminds us Muslims that the luxuries of this world will not go with us. Everything will stay. It is believed by Muslims that only there are only 2 things that will go with you in your grave and those two things are your good and bad deeds.

Photo #7 : A little Kitty that I found so beautiful. Animals in Mecca & specifically Madina are treated so kindly. Not even flies or mosquitoes are allowed to be killed.

Photo #8 : Hijabi’s feeding birds. Another example of animals being treated so kindly. There were so many birds everywhere and they wouldn’t fly away from humans in fact the opposite. It almost felt as if they knew that we wanted to take care of them.

Photo #9 : Rawdah al Sharifah which is believed to be a garden of paradise on earth. On the right side, it’s where the Prophet Mohammed was buried. All these Muslims are praying one of their voluntary prayers while getting ready to pray our obligatory morning prayer ; Fajr. This prayer must be prayed once the sun shows a white streak in the night sky.

Photo #10 : Al Masjid an Nabawi during the Muslims mandatory Friday prayer in congregation (Jummah Prayer). The Propeht’s [P.B.U.H.] fits over 1 million people but it gets so pact on Fridays that Muslims have to pray outside of the mosque.

[probablyasocialecologist]

It’s worth reminding ourselves just how often and insistently the New Testament hammers home its anti-wealth message.

Notoriously, the sayings of Jesus himself include some of the strongest language. He urges unstinting giving to anyone who asks (Matt. 5:42), forbids storing up wealth (6:19), discourages caring for the next day’s food and clothing (6:31), and warns that to serve both God and money is impossible (6:24). He pronounces blessings on the poor and woes on the wealthy (Luke 6:20–26). His counsel to the rich young ruler to “sell all” is thus of a piece with a broader agenda, which draws on the Hebrew prophets. Although it’s often noted that in this particular case Jesus’ call to total renunciation applies to just one individual, in Luke’s Gospel he addresses almost identical words to all his disciples (he uses second-person-plural verb forms): “Sell your possessions, and give alms … and you shall have treasure in heaven” (Luke 12:33–34). Two chapters later, he doubles down with an even more categorical statement: “None of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions” (Luke 14:33).

How were his followers to put such teachings into practice? Luke suggests the answer in the sequel to his Gospel, the Book of Acts, when he describes the founding of the first church in Jerusalem after Pentecost. Here, at the very moment of the Christian movement’s birth, common ownership of wealth figures as an original mark of the church:

All who believed were together and had all things in common; and they sold their possessions and goods and distributed them to all, as any had need. (Acts 2:44–45)

Now the company of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things which he possessed was his own, but they had everything in common. … There was not a needy person among them, for as many as were possessors of lands or houses sold them, and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles’ feet; and distribution was made to each as any had need. (Acts 4:32–35)

As the theologian David Bentley Hart sums up: “Simply said, the earliest Christians were communists … not as an accident of history but as an imperative of the faith.” This was a communism arising voluntarily from mutual love, not from state-enforced conformity. Even for believers, it’s presented as an exemplary model, not a legalistic rule. All the same, this “communism” is hardly just a spiritualized ideal, but rather a practical economic reality. The apostle Paul strikes similar notes in his repeated exhortations to the Gentile churches to practice koinonia – the generous sharing, including economic sharing, that for Paul is central to the Christian way (2 Cor. 8:13–15).

This anti-wealth message didn’t disappear from Christianity after the faith was legalized by Constantine. On the contrary, as Charles Avila shows in his 1983 study Ownership: Early Christian Teaching, bishops of the fourth and fifth centuries – notably Clement of Alexandria, Ambrose of Milan, John Chrysostom, Basil of Caesarea, and Augustine of Hippo – preached fiercely and often on these very scriptural passages. The church fathers went on to root the New Testament’s teachings in nature itself. As Ambrose put it:

Nature has brought forth all things for all in common. Thus God has created everything in such a way that all things be possessed in common. Nature therefore is the mother of common right, usurpation of private right.

The Milanese bishop seems to have anticipated by fifteen hundred years Proudhon’s maxim, “Private property is theft.”

All this helps explain why in Pinianus and Melania’s day, there had been no “Constantinian shift” on wealth, no abrupt relaxation of primitive rigor. (By contrast, in those same years the church jettisoned another of its once-widely-held convictions – that Christians may not kill – rather more rapidly and thoroughly.) Long after Christianity had become a majority faith, as McCarraher observes, “a barely repressed desire for communism … lurked as the political unconscious of medieval Christendom.”

[ohdorothea]

Aaaand we’re back to the rankings!!!! Now we’re on Lover and I couldn’t be bothered posting as I was listening so you’re getting one big post for Lover

1 - I Forgot That You Existed

The opening notes of this song is instant happiness for me. I remember hearing those notes when I first listened to Lover and I could just tell the music from Lover would be so different that the music that came before. I love this song and I think it’s a great opener for the album to come. If I am being very picky for the sake of ranking I do wish there were more layers to the production/the vocals. 12/13

2 - Cruel Summer

I’ve said it before I’ll say again: Taylor is the queen of tragic bops and god this may be the most tragic and the boppiest. What I love about this song is how many different ways people interpret the story, it’s really fun and I love a song that can mean so many different things to different people. An easy 13/13

3 - Lover

An instant classic for me. A song that really showcases her talent as a song writer I think. Beautiful gorgeous ect ect 12/13

4 - The Man

I have historically been a The Man hater but I listened to it for the ranking…. And I had fun?? I enjoyed myself? I DIDN’T HATE IT? What is happening!!!!! This is very confusing for me but if I take it in the spirit I believe (hope) it was intended (camp) it’s actually pretty fun. What’s going on!!!! 8/13

5 - The Archer

One of my favourite Taylor songs ever. I nearly burst into tears the first time I heard it. What a special song. She has 130/13 in my heart but for the ranking an easy 13/13

6 - I Think He Knows

I WANT YOU! BLESS MY SOUL! I WANT YOU! BLESS MY SOUL!!!

WHAT A BOP!!! This song should have been in the Lover set!!!!! It would have been so fun. But regardless this is as 13/13

7 - Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince

This song is sooooo cinematic!!!! I would have loved to see what she would have done for a music video for this song because it’s just sooo atmospheric!!! And I love love love the bridge with the cheerleader shouts!!!! It’s so fun and tragic and sad and hopeful all the same time!!!!! 13/13

8 - Paper Rings

One of my favourite love songs from Taylor ever. I will be dancing to this at my wedding!!! So fun so full of love and I’m in love with the production. A super easy 13/13 for me!!!

9 - Cornelia Street

BABY IM SO TERRIFIED!!! THAT IF YOU EVER WALK AWAY!!!! ID NEVER WALK CORNELIA STREET AGAIN!!!!!!!!

She really has it all. Perfect song 13/13

10 - Death By A Thousand Cuts

If I loved this song less I could talk about it more. 13/13

11 - London Boy

London Boy of Pubwe fame!!! This is a very silly fun song, it does not live up to the songs before it but that’s a pretty high bar! 8/13

12 - Soon You’ll Get Better

I’ve seen people make fun of this part of the Lover track listing but the thing is this is unfortunately how grief works!! It is sandwiched between love and fun and lust and make ups and break ups!!! It’s how it goes so this part of the tracklist actually makes so much sense to me even if it is a knife to the heart. I don’t listen to this often for obvious reasons but it is a perfect song for me. 13/13

13 - False God

Didn’t even write anything down because I was just in heaven for 3 minutes and 20 seconds. It’s a perfect song!!!!!!!!!!! I love this sound from Taylor and my god I hope she revisit’s it in the future but we will always have the alter is my hips. 13/13

14 - You Need To Calm Down

This song is soooooo hard to rate. Because the music video!!!! Shade never made anyone less gay!!! The badly dyed hair!!!! Iconic!!! But as a song I don’t enjoy listening to it very much! I would probably have a lot of fun singing along to it live!!! But as it is 6/13

15 - Afterglow

HEY!!!!! IT’S ALL ME!!!! IN MY HEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think this was my first favourite song from the whole album. I love it so much!!! I love the production I love the writing I love her vocal performance!!! It still holds up all these years later! 13/13

16 - ME!

I am a ME! lover!!! But I do have the dock points for 1. That Man 2. The use of lame 3. Taking out the Spelling Is Fun! part of the pre chorus! So with all of that said this is a 10/13

17 - It’s Nice To Have A Friend

Perfect song argue with the wall it has 130/13 in my heart but for the purpose of the ranking 13/13

18 - Daylight

I have historically been a bit of a Daylight hater but I don’t know what’s happening today cause I loved it. Lover the album you are!!! 12/13

[daitranscripts]

What Pride had Wrought Pt. 10b

Hall of Shrines

What Pride had Wrought Masterpost First: Speaking With Morrigan First: Meeting Kieran Previous: Giving Chase

The PC heads towards the first puzzle. (This ambient dialogue is bugged and may not trigger.)

Morrigan: An interesting inscription: “Submit to law unyielding.”

PC: “Law unyielding”?

Morrigan: The ancient elves considered Mythal a god of justice.

Morrigan (Solas not in party): Perhaps this was some manner of courtroom? I cannot say.

Solas (if in party): To call it “justice” is simplistic. Mythal was properly invoked by those seeking vengeance.

Morrigan: Oh? Are they truly so different?

Solas: To those who followed her, yes.

After the PC completes one puzzle.

PC: That did something.

Morrigan: Indeed. Time to proceed to the next ritual, I should think.

The PC completes the second puzzle.

PC: There. The ritual is complete. Morrigan: We are close. There is but one more path to follow.

The PC examines the mural of Andruil.

PC: What’s this?

Morrigan: I believe we are in the presence of the elven goddess Andruil, Lady of the Hunt.

Solas (if in party): Or a goddess of sacrifice, according to some. Morrigan: Truly? I wonder if that is why Andruil’s patron animal is the hare.

Morrigan: ‘Tis said the Dalish invoke her before a chase. Especially if they happen to be stalking humans.

Dialogue options:

Dalish: No, we don’t. [1]

General: Or defending against them? [2]

General: (human PC): I hardly feel unsafe. [3]

General: That’s unsettling. [4]

1 - Dalish: No, we don’t. PC: My clan avoided human settlements, never mind raiding them. Morrigan: A sound tactic. If one has room to maneuver out of harm’s way. Other Dalish clans to not keep so scrupulously hidden. [5]

2 - General: Or defending against them? PC: Humans clash with elves all the time. There’s blood on both sides. Morrigan: I do not favor either. One hears things in Orlesian court. Many Orlesian commanders consider skirmishes against the Dalish excellent sport. [5]

3 - General: I hardly feel unsafe. PC: We’re lucky civilization as we know it is intact. Morrigan: Some admire the Dalish for avoiding the “gifts” of progress for so long. Many Orlesian commanders consider skirmishes against the Dalish excellent sport. [5]

4 - General: That’s unsettling. PC: The Dalish aren’t known for being so bloodthirsty, are they? Morrigan: ‘Tis only what I overheard in the empress’ court. Many Orlesian commanders consider skirmishes against the Dalish excellent sport. [5]

5 - Scene continues.

Morrigan: Very well, let us continue.

The PC approaches mural of Falon’Din

PC: Who is this meant to be?

Morrigan: Falon’Din. Overseer of funerals and guide to the elven dead. I have heard the Dalish invoke him on their deathbed, or before quests from which they expect no return

Dialogue options:

Dalish: Some of my clan did that. [6]

General: Facing death’s never easy. [7]

General: He’s less than cheery. [8]

General: That seems ill-omened. [9]

6 - Dalish: Some of my clan did that. PC: My clan’s hunters asked for his blessing when we fought bandits. Our Keeper taught them the prayers. Morrigan (Solas not in party): How different from the one’s sung here, I wonder. [10]

7 - General: Facing death’s never easy. PC: People cling to whatever gives them hope. Morrigan: Perhaps that’s why the Dalish sometimes refer to Falon’Din as “the merciful one.” [10]

8 - General: He’s less than cheery. PC: That’s not the last thing I want to think of on my deathbed. Morrigan: Perhaps it was meant to frighten the elves’ enemies. [10]

9 - General: That seems ill-omened. PC: I’m not sure how a “God of the Dead” inspired good fortune. Morrigan: Perhaps it was meant to frighten the elves’ enemies. [10]

10 - Scene continues

Solas (if in party): I do not believe they sing songs about Falon’Din’s vanity.

Dialogue options:

General: Tell me more. PC: Do you know any legends? ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

General: You know something. PC: Go ahead. You must have a legend for us. ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

General: Let’s go. PC: We should move on. [15]

Solas: It is said Falon’Din’s appetite for adulation was so great, he began wars to amass more worshippers. The blood of those wouldn’t bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans. Mythal rallied the gods, once the shadow of Falon’Din’s hunger stretched across her own people. It was almost too late. Falon’Din only surrendered when his brethren bloodied him in his own temple.

Dialogue options:

Dalish: I’ve never heard that before. [11]

General: That was… grim. [12]

General: He sounds mad. [13]

General: Sounds like he deserved it. [14]

11 - Dalish: I’ve never heard that before. PC: My clan never told a story like that about Falon’Din. Solas: The further the Dalish spread, the further their stories branch and grow. Never mistake them for arbiters of “true” elvhen culture. [15]

12 - General: That was… grim. PC: Did ancient elves believe all their gods so terrifying? Solas: Yes, I believe they did. [15]

13 - General: He sounds mad. PC: No story is dramatic if the people in it act sensibly. Solas: Yes. Most tales pain Falon’Din’s stubbornness second only to his self-regard. [15]

14 - General: Sounds like he deserved it. PC: I’m surprised they let such a monster live. Solas: One does not lightly kill a god, Inquisitor. Even in legend. [15]

15 - Scene continues.

Morrigan: Let us be off then.

The PC completes the final puzzle.

- Cassandra Disapproves - Sera Disapproves - Iron Bull Disapproves - Blackwall Slightly Disapproves - Vivienne Slightly Disapproves + Solas Approves + Dorian Approves

PC: Everything is lit.

Party comments:

Varric: So… what now?

Sera: So can we go? now?

Cole (made more spirit): The whispers are louder.

Cole (made more human/personal quest not completed): It wants to say something, but I can’t hear it.

Morrigan: Come. Let us see if the doors have opened.

Next: Petitioner’s Chambers Optional: Questions for Morrigan