#gods are only merciful when they want to be and when it benefits them. otherwise they will smash a flying city into the ground.

[ruidusmoon]

i absolutely lack the brainpower to put my admiration for this mini arc into words but holy shit this was beautiful.

i love how complex the gods are, the relationships between them are so deeply loving and so broken. their family is prioritized over many things, mortals, promises and other families. even though they hurt each other that family tie is more important than almost everything else. they didn't want to hurt their children but they did it anyway for each other. at the end of the day they will cast aside their children in favor of their kin. the line is between those who matter and those who do not.

[whackk-kermitt]

Kisses & Bitmarks

Warning: Derek is secretly a softy, obliviously in love, mutual pinning, confessions, Stiles being a horny bitch (only a little), Scott being a dummy, Derek is still an Alpha, everyone is alive Summary: In a series of unfortunate events, Stiles finds himself with the bite of the wolf. After the shift, he needs an Alpha to coach his control. Scott is NO help AT ALL. NOT PROOFREAD

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪ "Derek, I can help."

"No, stay here."

"Derek-" Stiles grumbles as the alpha turns to scowl at him. "Scott, will you tell him I can help?"

Scott squirms where he stands just a few feet away, "I think you should stay here, dude."

"Dude," Stiles gasps hands coming up in his exasperation to slap down on his sides. "Who's side are you on?"

"A feral alpha, who has already killed and eaten four hikers, is not something that involves defenses humans."

"First, ouch. How dare you, I'm not defenseless when all of you are there. Second, I'm the one who tracked his guy down and I want to help."

"First," Derek bites back getting in his face, frustration and annoyance coming off him in waves, making his betas cower a bit. "You are defenseless which is why me, Scott, or someone else is always with you to make sure you get out alive. If you're there, their focus isn't on the extremely dangerous alpha. Second, you've already helped, so shut up, sit in your jeep, and let us kill the damn thing without you being underfoot." Derek growled through fitted teeth.

To anyone who just met Derek, they'd be pissing their pants if they were in his shoes. Derek being angry for receiving lip and getting in his face, primal growls and glowing fire in his eyes. Hell, if this was a few years ago, Stiles would be pissing himself right now.

But this is Derek, and Stiles knows Derek well enough to say that half of Derek's attitude and threats are out of love and worry. As strange as that sounds. And it is probably not any surprise, to the wolves at least, that Stiles isn't scared by his fangs and claws anymore.

His body still reacts to it, just not the way it used to.

It's hot, okay, don't judge him!

Stiles gave in, not in the mood anymore to argue, and grumbled like a pouting child. Not that he wouldn't argue the hell out of Derek, it's his favorite pastime. But he didn't wanna be around Derek when he was just intimated into arousal by him. Kind of embarrassing.

Stiles knew Derek knew, but Derek never said anything, thank god. He'd rather keep what little friendship with Derek he had than ruin it by things getting awkward. If Derek gave him the mercy of pretending he couldn't hear his heartbeat when he came into the room, or smell the on his flesh when Derek gave him the attention that excited him(sexually or otherwise). As long as Derek didn't totally hate him, he was okay.

Without another word, the wolves followed Derek and Scott into the woods to hunt this guy down.

Somehow by the magic of Stile's research skills and limited knowledge about the attacks, Stiles was able to track down the name of the alpha. He was the alpha of a modest pack residing in a town a few counties north of Beacon Hills. The pack mainly consisted of family and close friends, who Stiles found recent death certificates for. Meaning hunters likely track them down, and well. . . you know. Somewhere along the way, the alpha lost his mind, going feral.

Stiles moped in the jeep, feeling useless to the pack. He hated feeling like a damsel that needed to be protected. Derek was right, even if he didn't want to admit it. Everyone always ends up sticking by him to keep him safe when shit hits the fan, always underfoot when pressures are high. He knows it is unnecessary guilt, that he can't help being human, and the others have never really complained. At least not to his face about it.

He still feels like he could be doing more. There are benefits to him being human, pushing mountain ash, and taking care of wolvesbane obstacles the wolves can't. He just had this pit in his stomach that left him wanting to feel a part of something. He's kept around for his useful research and the benefit of his humanity, and Scott. Nothing else, and he knows it. But it’s nice to play pretend every once in a while.

His train of thought was derailed by a nasty howl echoing over the treetops. Stiles, before even thinking about it, stepped out of the jeep onto the pavement. His heart began to pound and he said a silent prayer that nobody was hurt. Although, even in his human ears, that howl didn't sound like any of the pack. They must have caught up to the alpha.

Stiles took a moment to realize that the sun had set completely, meaning he's been sitting here for at least an hour. A second howl sounded, and his head turned towards it. It sounded closer. Way closer.

The alpha was moving, and fast. Probably running away from the pack. Stiles stomach twisted at the fruition that it was coming his way. He climbed back into the jeep and thought about starting it up and moving out of the way of danger.

He struggled to fish his keys out of his pocket, panting in sudden adrenalin.

As the keys set in the transmission and turned, the jeep sputtered to life and a groan reached his ears. That didn't sound like the metallic grind and grown the old girl made when she started up, it sounded animalistic.

Terrified, stiles turned his head. He was frozen, when just outside the driver-side door was a beast that could put Peter’s alpha form to shame. Snarling and drooling at the sight of him.

Its sight is based on movement, no sudden movements.

No wait that's Jurassic Park, shit!

Before Stiles could even think, even hope for a rescue, the door was ripped away, tugging the whole jeep a few inches with it.

Claws and fangs dug into his flesh, pulling him in from the vehicle and onto the hard pavement below. The iron-tight jaw around his leg pulled back and was suddenly ripping into his abdomen.

Stiles let out a blood-curling scream, pushing away at the rabid wolf. He heard a distant howl and prayed they didn't find him in pieces.

His life flashed before his eyes; the face of his mother, father, Scott, Derek, Lydia. He cried out fearing what would happen to them when he was in the alpha's stomach.

Like hell, he was gonna be an easy meal. The bit down on the pain and scratched and punched with all this strength.

The alpha was fed up and lifted Stiles from the ground, shaking him dizzy and tossing him aside. Stiles rolled on the pavement. Landing on his stomach, his head turned to the jeep. He saw the beast standing in a pool of blood, a trail leading the the blood that began to pool under him. His vision began to cloud, and his senses were fading. He heard the alpha sniff and growl, then heavy footsteps coming closer. He couldn't move.

His eyes grew heavy and everything went dark and numb.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When Stiles woke up he was in his bed. His mind was foggy from sleep. The only thing he knew was he had to pee. He stumbled out of bed, shuffling to the door and into the hall.

He had only half a mind to notice the voices of this father and Scott downstairs. Groggy and still so unaware of the events last night.

After relieving himself, he turned to wash his hands. He felt his heart jump at the sight of blood under his nails, looking at himself in the mirror it all came flooding bad to him.

The monster alpha, the teeth, the claws.

He lifted his shirt looking down to where his life was bleeding out of him at one point. His eyes found his own again and they glowed a bright gold. He panted and collapsed against the wall.

No, no no no, this can't be happening. He didn't want this.

"Stiles," He heard Scott's voice. He zeroed in on the sounds and smells in the house. The fan in his dad's room buzzing softly, the coffee on the kitchen table where he was sure his father and Scott had just been, the heartbeats standing at the bottom of the stairs, the soft creak in the third step as someone began coming up.

The next thing that assaulted his senses was the revolting smell of Scott.

"Stay away!" Stiles panicked as he felt claws pushing out at his fingertips, and fangs drop into place in his mouth. He felt a wave of uncertainty, displeasure, and fear. The footsteps on the stairs stopped and he sighed looking around in panic.

He felt the instinct to run, run where he didn't know. The animalistic instinct in him told him to run just as it told him to breathe. Something in Scott's scent made him feel unsettled and afraid.

"Stiles, we've been through this before, remember? You taught me to control it." He hears Scott sigh and even his soft nervous gulp. "Find your anchor, tie yourself to it."

Stiles nodded, knowing Scott or his father couldn't see it. He focused on his father, his scent, and his heartbeat. He smelled his aftershave and cologne, the coffee on his breath, the gunpowder and detergent on his hands. He listened to his erratic heart and how it beat quickly with worry and fear.

"Stiles," Scott tested softly, bearly a whisper that Stiles could hear as clear as day. "You need to calm down."

"Not helping!" Stiles snapped, voice slurred through the fangs he wasn't used to having. Something in him pushed a defensive growl from his throat. Realizing what he was doing only a second later he let out an apologetic whimper.

Stiles wondered why it was his body, his wolf, that hated Scott's scent so much, and why it made him feel so sick. Why Scott's comforting voice in his ears made him feel so volatile and angry. He needed to get away from it, it made him feel scared.

He remembered something Derek had said to the others about the instinct of a wolf always being in your best interest. Even if it is something you can't follow through with, acknowledge the instinct and consider it.

If his wolf needed to get away then he will. He stood quickly and dashed to his room, following the wolf's lead. He trusted it entirely.

"Stiles?" Scott cried coming up the stairs.

"Son?" The panic and confusion in his father's voice made him whime, but he couldn't control himself right now. His father's safety was always his top priority.

He let the wolf take him through the window, and jumped down into the side yard, b-linding the woods behind his house. He didn't know where he was going, but just needed to get away from Scott.

Fully shifted, he ran faster than he ever had before. Heart thumping and pounding in his ears. He smelled the woods, the dirt under his bare feet, the pine and oak, the musk of the animals that lingered, and the petricore like never before. He felt the wind on his face and smiled. If this is what he was missing out on this whole time maybe he should've asked for the bite sooner.

His feet slowed on their own, and he realized where he was. A few blocks from Derek's loft! He'd run that far that fast?

He picked his pace back up and ran like hell. If this is where his wolf wanted to be, this is where he would be.

Skipping a step at a time he made his way up, too much energy to sit around waiting for the elevator.

"What do you mean he's gone?" He hears Derek growl. There was a power in the growl that made his wolf purr. "You were supposed to talk to him, coach him through the shift!"

"Derek!" He called.

"He's here." He said, tone as though he didn't believe it. "No, stay there, if he's agitated, I'll deal with it. No one needs to get hurt.

Stiles flung open the door watching Derek strolling down the stairs and putting his phone away in his pocket. Derek slowly and cautiously approached, eyes concerned.

"I hated it." Stiles panted lightly. He felt a need for Derek to understand what was happening, to guide him on what to do.

"Hated what?"

"Scott," Stiles sighed stepping fully into the loft. "His scent, his voice telling me to calm down. It made me afraid and angry. The wolf just wanted to run away, and I tried to fight it and get control like Scott was telling me but it just made it worse. God, I wanted to rip his throat out with my teeth! Huh, I sound like you now. And I- I remembered you telling Erica and the guys about the wolf's instincts and how you should always trust it, so I jumped out of my window. Oh, god, wow, I jumped out a window! I didn't even think, I-nothing broke. Or maybe it healed? I don't know, but I started running, and I ended up here. Derek," He took a breath, eyes glossy. "What do I do?"

Derek just stared at him for a long moment.

"Derek?" Stiles's voice was soft now, his breathing slowing to normal.

Derek's heartbeat was fast, his eyes searched Stiles for a moment before he looked away with a thoughtful expression for a moment.

"I-" He huffed. "I thought Scott would be your alpha."

"He isn't?"

"Not if you wanted to rip his throat out when he asked you to calm down."

"Huh." Stiles nodded. "That makes sense."

Derek chuckled dryly.

"Wow," Stiles sighed taking a deep breath. "You smell good. You always smell this good? Is it the new nose?"

Derek sighed, face falling. Like Stiles had disappointed him somehow. His wolf whined in the back of his mind.

'Please the alpha.'

He gulped and frowned a little.

"Did I do something wrong? You can't get mad at me dude, I'm new to this."

"No, you just-" He cut himself off.

"Come on Derek, I'm kind of relying on you completely here." Stiles stepped closer and Derek stepped back. Stiles's eyes began to water and he didn't know why. He felt alone and pitiful all of a sudden.

Derek watched his reaction curiously.

"What are you feeling?" He asked hesitantly like he didn't really want to know the answer. "Your instincts, what do you want? What is your wolf telling you you need?" He clarified.

"I-" Stiles stubbled back and frowned, a tear running down his cheek. His wolf's howls in the back of his mind made him each with the feeling he just lost something. "To be close to you. But I feel cold, lonely, all of a sudden."

Derek blinked a couple times and tilted his head down, just slightly.

"I feel alone, I feel-" Stiles stopped, not knowing the words that could describe it.

"Stiles," He spoke gently like his voice could crack Stiles into a million pieces if he spoke loud enough. "Don't think about the works, just the feeling. The words will come to you, trust the wolf."

Stiles curled in on himself for a bit before letting his eyes fall to the floor. He stood still, focusing on the cold feeling in his chest. The wolf whined and whimpered like a dying animal in the face of a predator.

'Rejected. Omega.'

"Rejected and omega come to mind." His voice barely broke from his throat.

Derek's breath hitched in his throat, looking at Stiles with an indescribable intensity.

"Please the alpha."

"Stiles," Derek's voice was hoarse as he was willing it to say something it didn't want to. "You-" He stopped himself again.

"Derek, what do I do?" Stiles didn't understand why he started crying, he felt too senseless despite all the new strength in his body.

"I," Derek paused. "I don't want you to think this is anything more than an alpha and beta relationship. I think it's maybe best if you called Sc-"

"What?" Stiles looked up at him. He felt anger and confusion seep into him. "You want to reject me as your beta be-because I like you?"

Derek shuddered for a moment. "I didn't say that, I-"

"Said we're only alpha and beta, yeah I got that," Stiles growled. "I figured you never said anything 'cause you didn't want things to be awkward between us, I get it- I'm not the most appealing candidate, but this is so much fucking worse, Derek. This is fucking petty."

"Stiles." Derek warned.

"I don't know what I'm doing!"Stiles cried. "I'm scared, I need you to guide me-help me! I know you don't care the way I care, I'm fine with that," He ignored the blip in his heart. "I can be just your friend, I have been and it was fine, but I need you-"

"Stiles," Derek's eyes widened as he looked him over, drinking in the confession. "What is it you want from me?"

"Help!" Stiles snapped like it was obvious because he thought it was. "I-"

"No," Derek shook his head, daring a few steps forward. "Not what I meant. Forget the wolves, just you and me. What do you want with me?"

Stiles gulped, nervous and scared of more rejection.

"You." He shrugged, he was tired all of a sudden.

"Stiles," Derek pleased, a look in his eye that made him swoon. "Please, don't beat around the bush."

"I want-" He hesitated, afraid. "I want to be with you."

Derek, stepped closer, a look in his eye that made Stiles twitchy.

"I want to, sit and talk about stupid shit that doesn't matter. I want to argue over Batman versus Superman. I want to argue over what movie to watch. I want you to meet my dad- like actually. Not just talking to him about how to deal with the monster of the week. I want you to hold me as we fall asleep. I want you-"

Derek was kissing him.

His hands cupped his cheeks and drew him closer, breathing him in. Stiles melted into it, calming all his nerves in a single second.

His wolf purred as it took in the scent and feel of his alpha's body against his.

Stiles pawed and his chest and followed his lips and he pulled away.

Derek chuckled, low and happy watching him. Stiles opened his eyes and looked up into Dereks.

"Wh-"

"I thought it was just sexual." Derek frowns for a moment. "If I had known you wanted more I-" He sighed. "Still probably wouldn't have done anything."

"Why not?" Stiles grumbled in slight offense. Although part of him, knowing how Derek had been used in the past, made him feel guilty for it having seemed that way. Even though he thought everything was blatantly obvious and that was never his intention.

" You're seventeen, and your fathers the sheriff." He blinked plainly.

"Oh," Stiles chuckled awkwardly. "Right."

"I'm sorry," Derek wavered.

"So you'll be my alpha?"

"Yeah."

"And. . maybe my mate."

Derek gave him a pointed stare.

"What?" Stiles frowned. "Isn't that just wolfie talk for dating?"

"No," Derek laughed, honest to god laughed. Stile thought he would faint. "No, It's more like marriage- with a lot of sex."

"Well, in that case," Stiles smirked, earning an eye-roll. "All that's can wait a year."

Derek laughed again.

"Yeah, sure." He nodded. "We'll see how it goes."

Stiles broke into a wide grin, jumped up flinging his arms around Derek and breathing in his scent. Stiles took note of the woodsy smell, the lavender, dirt, leather, and rich cologne pressed into his flesh. He decided it was his new favorite, and the wolf agreed.

"You're never getting rid of me now!"

"Wouldn't dream of it." Derek held tighter.

Stiles smelled something sour all of a sudden, "What's wrong?"

"You're quick to pick up on things, aren't you." Derek hummed on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked more firmly as the scent became stronger.

"When I heard you scream, I thought- I found you," Derek paused to take a breath. Move his hand to his shoulder to feel his heart beating. "I thought we were too late."

"You could hear my heart beating though, right?"

"Didn't mean you'd make it through the night. You bled so much." Derek sniffled. "I thought it would be safer for you to stay behind and wait for us, but-"

"You couldn't have known."

"Doesn't matter." He mumbled, "I thought I lost you.

"Der,"

"Safe to say you're sticking with me from now on."

Stiles chuckled at that. He held tighter and literally purred. Which made Derek shudder closer humming in contentment.

"You're a tough son of a bitch though. Even as a human, you made it easy for us to kill the bastard."

"What?" Stiles pulled back to look him in the eye.

"How much do you remember?" Stiles shrugged trying to think, It was all kind of a blur to him now. "You scratched the hell out of his face. Eyes, ears. The only thing that wasn't fucked up by the time we got there was his nose."

"He didn't heal?"

"Didn't have time before I ripped his throat out." Stiles laughed, the irony of it all made his wolf preen for the man who lost his shit to protect him. "You had his eyeball in your hand when we got to you. Scratched it out."

"Holy shit!"

"If you weren't actively dying at the time I would've had time to feel proud," Derek smirked, and Stiles felt weak in the knees.

Derek chuckled pressing closer.

"So no sex obviously no sex for a while- taking things slow and all," He mused. "But, like, how about another smooch?"

Derek grins leaning in to oblige.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"You and Derek what?" Scott cried, eyes wide as if he honestly;y had no fucking clue.

"Finally." The rest of the room groaned in unison.

"I was gonna hit you if you didn't make a move soon." Lydia rolled her eyes at him.

Stiles just smiled, looking over at Derek who smiled back with a wink. ≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

•Kermitts Masterlist•

[agentrouka-blog]

I also want to point out that Stannis is dismissing Arya's inheritance as well when he insists that Jon take Winterfell. If Sansa is unable to ever be recovered to the point that she is considered legally dead ie Gerion Lannister (keep dreaming though antis) then "Arya"as her heir (just as Bran was Robb's Rickons was Brans) is the rightful Lady of Winterfell. Stannis wants to eliminate the Boltons, and if successful that leaves "Arya" a widow. Or are widows unable to marry? And he can also ask Jon to be one of her regents. I mean just look at how he wants 11yo Shireen's rights defended if he were to die tomorrow.

This isn't an instance of people being salty about "bastards stealing trueborn inheritances" It's about Stannis' sheer hypocrisy and the fact that if he had the Stark girls in his custody, he would not be offering Jon this. He couldn't care about removing the stigma of bastards or implementing more protections for them on a wider level, he'll just take one bastard and give him power because it'll personally benefit him.

Hi there! :)

Good point.

In his defense, Stannis considers himself the true king, and House Stark technically commited treason against him by rising up for independence, placing House Stark's role as wardens of the North and lords of Winterfell at his mercy. Technically. On a practical level, he knows it's not feasible, but it's the same pretend-it-away approach as his idea of "princess Val".

Stannis plays the role of the king who can dispose of the marital future of a vassal or a ward of the crown, either of which is what he would consider Arya to be. He says as much to Jon in his letter to him from Deepwood Motte. That's the extent of her importance to him.

He becomes aware of her after leaving the Wall and arriving at Deepwood Motte. He writes a letter to Jon, who secretly already sent his own rescue mission in the shape of Mance.

And word has come to us that Roose Bolton moves toward Winterfell with all his power, there to wed his bastard to your half sister. He must not be allowed to restore the castle to its former strength. We march against him. Arnolf Karstark and Mors Umber will join us. I will save your sister if I can, and find a better match for her than Ramsay Snow. You and your brothers must hold the Wall until I can return. (ADWD, Jon VII)

Stannis, as you point out, does not suggest using Arya to try and bind the North to him through her role as a Stark heiress. Even once she is in his hands, his concern for her centers around her relationship to Jon first and foremost. He would not give her over to Jon if she was his key to the North.

"Oh, and take the Stark girl with you. Deliver her to Lord Commander Snow on your way to Eastwatch." Stannis tapped the parchment that lay before him. "A true king pays his debts." (TWOW, Theon I)

Jon, too, doesn't consider her claim to Winterfell to be a big factor when considering what Stannis might do. He anticipates that she would be married off to a Southern knight, not be treated as Lady of Winterfell and heir to the North.

 The king would only want to marry her to one of his own men, Horpe or Massey or Godry Giantslayer, and the gods alone knew what use the red woman might want to make of her. (ADWD, Jon IX)

Stannis' fantasy of creating a Norther-wildling alliance through "princess Val" and a male Lord of Winterfell of his choice fades away when Jon rejects him. It's not a very feasible plan, since the grooms in question would otherwise be Southern lords or knights.

"If Your Grace wishes to lose all of my lord father's bannermen, there is no more certain way than by giving northern halls to southron lords." "How can I lose men I do not have? I had hoped to bestow Winterfell on a northman, you may recall. A son of Eddard Stark. He threw my offer in my face." (ADWD, Jon I)

Stannis and Selyse instead end up making several smaller wedding alliances between wildling "lords" who bend the knee, their daughters and the Southerns knights in Selyse's court. Much like Jon does with Alys Karstark and Sigorn of Thenn. The Big Wedding is replaced by many smaller ones, reducing the need for a powerful focal point.

Hence, the plan for Winterfell and the rulership of the North becomes divorced from House Stark's current bloodline, though Stannis still recognizes its significance.

"If it gives you any solace, Horpe and Massey are doomed to disappointment. I am more inclined to bestow Winterfell upon Arnolf Karstark. A good northman. (...) He has Stark blood in him. The blood of Winterfell."(ADWD, Jon IV)

And as shown above, he doesn't amend this plan even when Arya's presence becomes known, even after he becomes aware of the treachery of Arnolf Karstark.

So Arya's claim to Winterfell is essentially disregarded by Stannis for the time being. She is treated with no more significance by him than absent Sansa is. He has no interest in female heiresses, he wants a capable adult male leader in place, not a girl, however legitimate her claim. (And yes, the hypocrisy is thick when you consider his entire war is fought because his "claim to the throne" makes it his duty to enforce the law and fight to get it. Other people's claims are subject to his own needs.)

Which is really funny, because "Ned's girl" is one of the main reasons the mountain clans and the Mormonts are marching with him.

 What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." (ADWD, The Turncloak)

But the wolves insisted; Roose Bolton could not be suffered to hold Winterfell, and the Ned's girl must be rescued from the clutches of his bastard. So said Morgan Liddle, Brandon Norrey, Big Bucket Wull, the Flints, even the She-Bear. (ADWD, The King's Prize)

"This march was madness. More dying every day, and for what? Some girl?" "Ned's girl," said Morgan Liddle. (...) "Ned's girl," echoed Big Bucket Wull. "And we should have had her and the castle both if you prancing southron jackanapes didn't piss your satin breeches at a little snow." (ADWD, The King's Prize)

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned's little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks." (ADWD, The King's Prize)

So Stannis fails to make a practicable plan for rulership in the North in the case of his victory. Which is really another excellent hint at the idea that he won't play a significant role in securing victory over the Boltons.

Which will leave room for the Northerners themselves to squabble over which of the available Stark heirs they'll want to support over the Bolton faction.

Stark heirs, though, it seems they want, be they girl or boy.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

4th November >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Saint Charles Borromeo, Bishop 

on

Saturday, Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time.

Saturday, Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: White: A (1))

(Readings for the feria (Saturday))

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading Romans 11:1-2,11-12,25-29 The Jews have not fallen for ever.

Let me put a question: is it possible that God has rejected his people? Of course not. I, an Israelite, descended from Abraham through the tribe of Benjamin, could never agree that God had rejected his people, the people he chose specially long ago. Do you remember what scripture says of Elijah – how he complained to God about Israel’s behaviour? Let me put another question then: have the Jews fallen for ever, or have they just stumbled? Obviously they have not fallen for ever: their fall, though, has saved the pagans in a way the Jews may now well emulate. Think of the extent to which the world, the pagan world, has benefited from their fall and defection – then think how much more it will benefit from the conversion of them all. There is a hidden reason for all this, brothers, of which I do not want you to be ignorant, in case you think you know more than you do. One section of Israel has become blind, but this will last only until the whole pagan world has entered, and then after this the rest of Israel will be saved as well. As scripture says: The liberator will come from Zion, he will banish godlessness from Jacob. And this is the covenant I will make with them when I take their sins away.

The Jews are enemies of God only with regard to the Good News, and enemies only for your sake; but as the chosen people, they are still loved by God, loved for the sake of their ancestors. God never takes back his gifts or revokes his choice.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 93(94):12-15,17-18

R/ The Lord will not abandon his people.

Happy the man whom you teach, O Lord, whom you train by means of your law; to him you give peace in evil days.

R/ The Lord will not abandon his people.

The Lord will not abandon his people nor forsake those who are his own; for judgement shall again be just and all true hearts shall uphold it.

R/ The Lord will not abandon his people.

If the Lord were not to help me, I would soon go down into the silence. When I think: ‘I have lost my foothold’; your mercy, Lord, holds me up.

R/ The Lord will not abandon his people.

Gospel Acclamation cf. Colossians 3:16a,17

Alleluia, alleluia! Let the message of Christ, in all its richness, find a home with you; through him give thanks to God the Father. Alleluia!

Or: Matthew 11:29

Alleluia, alleluia! Shoulder my yoke and learn from me, says the Lord, for I am gentle and humble in heart. Alleluia!

Gospel Luke 14:1,7-11 Everyone who exalts himself shall be humbled.

Now on a sabbath day Jesus had gone for a meal to the house of one of the leading Pharisees; and they watched him closely. He then told the guests a parable, because he had noticed how they picked the places of honour. He said this, ‘When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take your seat in the place of honour. A more distinguished person than you may have been invited, and the person who invited you both may come and say, “Give up your place to this man.” And then, to your embarrassment, you would have to go and take the lowest place. No; when you are a guest, make your way to the lowest place and sit there, so that, when your host comes, he may say, “My friend, move up higher.” In that way, everyone with you at the table will see you honoured. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the man who humbles himself will be exalted.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

--------------------------

Saint Charles Borromeo, Bishop 

(Liturgical Colour: White: A (1))

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading Romans 12:3-13 Use the gifts you have been given.

In the light of the grace I have received I want to urge each one among you not to exaggerate his real importance. Each of you must judge himself soberly by the standard of the faith God has given him. Just as each of our bodies has several parts and each part has a separate function, so all of us, in union with Christ, form one body, and as parts of it we belong to each other. Our gifts differ according to the grace given us. If your gift is prophecy, then use it as your faith suggests; if administration, then use it for administration; if teaching, then use it for teaching. Let the preachers deliver sermons, the almsgivers give freely, the officials be diligent, and those who do works of mercy do them cheerfully.

Do not let your love be a pretence, but sincerely prefer good to evil. Love each other as much as brothers should, and have a profound respect for each other. Work for the Lord with untiring effort and with great earnestness of spirit. If you have hope, this will make you cheerful. Do not give up if trials come; and keep on praying. If any of the saints are in need you must share with them; and you should make hospitality your special care.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 88(89):2-5,21-22,25,27

R/ I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord; through all ages my mouth will proclaim your truth. Of this I am sure, that your love lasts for ever, that your truth is firmly established as the heavens.

R/ I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

‘I have made a covenant with my chosen one; I have sworn to David my servant: I will establish your dynasty for ever and set up your throne through all ages.

R/ I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

‘I have found David my servant and with my holy oil anointed him. My hand shall always be with him and my arm shall make him strong.

R/ I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

‘My truth and my love shall be with him; by my name his might shall be exalted. He will say to me: “You are my father, my God, the rock who saves me.”’

R/ I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

Gospel Acclamation John 10:14

Alleluia, alleluia! I am the good shepherd, says the Lord; I know my own sheep and my own know me. Alleluia!

Gospel John 10:11-16 The good shepherd is one who lays down his life for his sheep.

Jesus said:

‘I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd is one who lays down his life for his sheep. The hired man, since he is not the shepherd and the sheep do not belong to him, abandons the sheep and runs away as soon as he sees a wolf coming, and then the wolf attacks and scatters the sheep; this is because he is only a hired man and has no concern for the sheep.

‘I am the good shepherd; I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for my sheep. And there are other sheep I have that are not of this fold, and these I have to lead as well. They too will listen to my voice, and there will be only one flock, and one shepherd.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[spiritsoulandbody]

#DailyDevotion Meditating On Scripture Has Practical Benefits

#DailyDevotion Meditating On Scripture Has Practical Benefits Psalm 119 97How I love Your teaching (torah) I think about it all day long. 98Because I always have Your commandments (mitsvah), I'm wiser than my enemies. 99I have a better insight than all my teachers because I think of the truths (eduth) You wrote. 100I understand better than the old men because I follow the way You want me to live (piqqud). 101I keep my foot from walking on any evil path - I want to do what you say (dabar). 102I haven't turned away from Your regulations (mishpat) because You have taught me. 103How pleasant Your words (imrah) taste, better than honey in my mouth. 104I get understanding from Your decrees (piqqud); that is why I hate all deception. Well isn't that what we are truly like? What we love, we think about all day long. What do you think about all day long? The psalmist thinks about the teachings of the LORD. They are his constant companion. Perhaps we might be a little better off if we redirected our love towards the LORD's teachings. The Sermon on the Mount and Paul's letter to the Romans would be a good start. Of what benefit would it be for us to meditate, ponder and think about all the LORD has taught us in all of Holy Scriptures? What does the psalmist say? He is wiser than his enemies. The word of God gives us wisdom if we listen to it, trust it and do it. What did Jesus say? "Be as wise as serpents and as gentle as doves." He does want us to grow up and not just be simple Christians. Because he thinks and ponders the truths the LORD has written, he has better insight than all of his teachers. Well, wouldn't that be neat? Those who do study the Bible on a regular basis do seem to have better answers and sometimes better questions than those who don't. Understanding comes not only from reading, studying, meditating and pondering but also in putting everything done there into practice. He is not bragging when he says he has better understanding than the old men. It's because he puts into practice what the LORD has taught him in the scriptures. You too will gain greater understanding when you put what you read into practice. Verses 101 and 102 are parallel to one another. Keeping our feet from an evil path and not turning from the LORD's regulations are different expressions of the same thing. We want to do all the LORD has told us in His word. We want to lead God pleasing lives if our faith is in Jesus. He, the Holy Spirit, teaches us through His judgments. In them we see how our God wants us to live. If we are to live and practice all the LORD has given us in His Word, we most certainly need faith and the Holy Spirit to bring this about in action. It would otherwise be too much for us. The revealed will of the LORD in His Word is like honey in our mouths. It will be that way when we speak it out loud. Reading silently is a relatively new thing. When we read out loud we captivate several of our senses. Scripture tasting like honey is a theme in the Bible. We see it in Ezekiel and in Revelation. We see it is here as well. For those who find this is not so perhaps we need to check our hearts. Are we rebelling against what the LORD has told us? Do we trust He wants what is best for us? Again we get understanding from the LORD's decrees. His ways are the truth. Jesus is the way and the truth. When we understand this, we too will hate all deception. Deception is what separated us from the LORD in the first place. We should not love a lie. Trusting in Christ Jesus, we love the truth, who He is. Merciful God and Father, give us understanding through the study and practice of Your word so we may become wise, love Your truth, and live in all Your ways. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen. Read the full article

[saltybaltic]

Can we get a fic with Natasha fucking carol mercilessly and the Reader is cuffed to a chair watchind!!!

Natasha Romanoff X Carol Danvers X FemReader - CUFFED

Synopsis: I think the request says it all really 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, restraints, slight Dom/sub undertones if you squint

Words: 970

Reluctantly you had to admit it; this truly was the most wonderful form of torture. Despite knowing it would do nothing to help your situation, you tugged on the leather cuffs that secured you to each of the arms of the chair you currently found yourself stuck in. You supposed it was more for something to do than anything, finding the fact you could literally do nothing the most frustrating thing about your predicament. You wanted to shift in your seat slightly. Wipe at your face that was burning hot now, beads of sweat starting to gather at your temples. Squeeze your thighs together maybe to alleviate some of the pressure. 

The tight cuffs around your ankles anchoring you to the front legs of the old wooden chair made sure none of that was possible. Or should you say Natasha had made sure of that. She could have at least given you a nicer chair to sit in, one that didn’t look like it had been pulled out of an old classroom from the previous century. It was out of place in the room, everything else about Natasha’s bedroom predicatably nice. Even the smaller details were perfect; from the many candles that were illuminating the scene before you, to the beautiful silk bedsheets that covered the bed the other women were occupying.

God you wanted to move. But looking down and trying to work out an escape would mean tearing your eyes away from them. And the only thing worse than being made to watch would be not being able to watch. 

Everything was overwhelming to the senses. The air in the room was hot and stuffy after what felt like hours of frantic heavy breathing. Your ears rang with every sound that hit them. Pants for air. Moans of pleasure. The dark, smug chuckle of a woman who knew she was fucking someone good. The blood pulsing and ringing in your own ears as your body burned with arousal. The wet, filthy noises of the strap sinking in and out at a bruising pace.

You hated the way they were acting like you weren’t even in the room. Neither woman so much as glancing in your direction no matter how much you tried to move or how many desperate whimpers left your lips. You hated it and yet you couldn’t get enough of it.

Hoping things were about to change, you held your breath and watched quietly as for the first time that evening, Natasha slowed her pace to a stop and gave Carol a second of respite. The blonde looked absolutely spent, sucking in short, shallow breaths as she took the opportunity to push damp hair out of her face and wipe at her forehead. You waited patiently for what would happen next, hoping Natasha would acknowledge you, allow Carol to come over and release you from your restraints, that one of them would touch you, kiss you, look at you, anything. But it never came.

Instead you were left wanting, bunching your eyes closed for a second in frustration as you clenched and unclenched your fists. Natasha smirked, the only real sign that she wasn’t oblivious to your torment in the corner, gripping the underside of Carol’s thighs and pushing her further up the bed on her back. Natasha moved with her, shuffling forward on her knees and settling herself back between the other woman’s legs as she leaned down to grip Carol’s face harshly between her fingers and connect their lips. 

You were certain you started to salivate at the sight, mouth hanging slightly agape in desperate need for those to be your lips that Natasha was pushing her tongue through. The kiss looked sloppy and messy, tongues moving together as Natasha pinched her fingers harder into Carol’s cheeks and took control of the embrace.

The kiss still didn’t do much in quietening the noise in the room, especially when the red head gave a rough thrust forward and pushed the strap back into Carol who released the loudest groan yet into Natasha’s mouth. The sound was incredible, the sight even more so as you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and continued to watch eagerly. You were so turned on it was bordering on uncomfortable, unable to control the fruitless attempts of wriggling and squirming in your seat.

Despite the frustration, the downright torture of what was unfolding, you couldn’t think of anything you’d rather watch. Your eyes were drawn to everything, each sight sending another shiver down your spine or a twinge between your legs. You were drinking in every detail as if your life depended on it.

The way Carol’s hands had travelled above her head, gripping the sheets beneath her in a vice grip as Natasha appeared to be showing absolutely no mercy. The blondes mouth hung open, moans, whimpers and pleas leaving her with more frequency now. The rhythm of Natasha’s hips was hypnotising, hitting Carol with smooth, deep strokes that seemed to have Carol’s eyes literally rolling back into her head. The way both women’s skin glistened in the candlelight, toned muscles and soft flesh shimmering with a sheen of sweat that was evidence of just how long and how good Natasha had been fucking Carol.

Carol cried out, loud, the sound of Natasha’s name echoing off the walls and sending a shudder through your body as the red head reached down to stroke her thumb over Carol’s clit. Your jaw was starting to ache from clenching it, heart hammering now and white crescents marking your palms from balling your hands into fists. You could tell that Carol was getting close, her grip tightening on the sheets and her thighs starting to tremble either side of Natasha’s waist.

Natasha seemed to sense it too, somehow managing to pick up her bruising pace further as she leaned down to press her mouth against Carol’s.

“You gonna come for me?” taunted Natasha, a knowing smirk painting her lips as she circled her thumb more firmly over Carol’s clit.

The blonde nodded her head hurriedly, only able to offer a loud moan in response.

Natasha’s grin broadened, “Then you better make sure I hear how good I make you come.”

The way Natasha had groaned the words into Carol’s mouth, the way Carol had closed her eyes and whimpered in response, the way those words had to be for your benefit. It was all too much and yet somehow not enough. You were desperate now, and the only thing you wanted more than for someone to pay you attention, was to watch Natasha fuck Carol until she came.

Carol’s hands moved from the sheets to the top of Natasha’s thighs, fingers sinking in to her skin firmly as a silent plea not to let up. That she could take it and she needed the other woman to continue pretty much pounding her into the mattress. Not that Natasha had any intention of doing otherwise, the hand that wasn’t busy stroking over Carol’s clit coming up to grip at the headboard that was rattling and creaking with every rough thrust forward.

Your mouth was definitely watering now, your own breathing getting heavier and skin flushing hotter than you could have imagined. You were thirsty for it, maybe more so than Carol; a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach and a pressure between your legs that you knew wasn’t going to be relieved until you got what you wanted. The twitch in Carol’s fingers and the increased frequency of her moans told you it wouldn’t be long.

“That’s it.” encouraged Natasha, a strain to her own words now as the effort of her work started to take its toll on her breathing, “Come on baby, you’re doing so good.”

Carol could do nothing but take it, too far gone to be able to focus on anything but how good it felt. Every hard, deep thrust from Natasha hitting her just right. She was unsure how the red head was managing to stroke over her clit so perfectly and accurately with how wet she surely was by now but wasn’t about to complain. She could feel Natasha’s eyes burning into her with a look of pure desire and fascination, the desperation to watch her as her orgasm hit only turning her on further.

“Oh my god Nat, I’m gonna come.” Carol sounded half way between surprised and relieved, the words no more than a strangled cry at this point as her grip tightened on Natasha’s thighs and she bucked her hips up to meet the other woman’s movements, “Jesus ... yes, yes, I’m coming.”

You actually whined, features scrunching up in some sort of mixture of intense pleasure and frustration. Your arms twisted and turned in the restraints, tugging at them hopelessly as you shifted back and forth in your seat, wanting more than anything to be able to move more. If you could just have one free hand, one hand to reach into the waistband of your underwear and relieve some of the pressure.

A loud moan from Carol and a satisfied sound from Natasha distracted you from your turmoil momentarily, your mouth hanging open and a gasp caught in your throat as you watched another rough thrust from Natasha push Carol over the edge. You could do nothing but watch; Carol’s back arching off the bed, fingers digging painfully into Natasha’s thighs and toes curling into the bed sheets as she released a final groan of Natasha’s name.

“Fucking Christ.” your words came out as barely a whisper, too awestruck to even register the fact you had spoken aloud. It was hideous to be so powerless and so left out but damn if it wasn’t one of the most magnificent things you’d ever seen.

Carol was gulping in air, finally releasing Natasha’s thighs from her grip and raising her hands to her face as she panted for breath. She was sporting a grin that showed just how good the other woman had made her feel, a soft moan spilling from her lips as Natasha raised her hips enough to slowly remove the strap from her pussy.

“My god.” chuckled Carol, removing her hands from her face and tugging Natasha down to her level to connect their lips.

Natasha indulged the embrace for a moment before tilting her face a fraction to break the kiss, “Good?”

Carol nodded, pecking Natasha’s lips again, “So fucking good.”

“You think ... anyone else deserves the same?” asked Natasha.

You had been sitting impatiently but silently, knowing Natasha well enough that if you wanted something, begging and pleading was the worst tactic you could try. But at the red heads words, your head snapped up eagerly. Of course you were desperate by now, your skin still burning hot and breathing uneven despite the fact that the other women seemed to have calmed somewhat. You were sure you must have soaked through your underwear and onto the seat below you by now, your wrists sore from working against the restraints that held you in place.

Carol hummed in thought, one hand reaching up to push Natasha’s hair out of her face, “I don’t know ... I suppose she has behaved quite well while we had our fun.”

Finally. Finally they acknowledged you. Natasha turning her head to skim her eyes over you in the corner. It was obvious how much of a state you were in and she couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

Leaning down to press a kiss to a Carol’s temple, Natasha’s eyes remained locked with yours as she spoke quietly, “Let her out of those cuffs then Captain.”

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Mario Kart Double Dash

(Story Post)

Theo and Henderson were both at the former's apartment watching TV when his phone went off. Unfortunately, he'd left it on the kitchen counter and it wasn't easy to move from the couch now that he was 16 weeks pregnant with alien quadruplets. “I got it,” Henderson said getting up to swipe the phone and handed it to Theo. “Merci,” Theo said as he took it and checked the caller ID. He was surprised to see it was Korsy. He answered it. “Hello?” “Theo, you home?” “Yeah.” “Okay, I'm coming up.” “Do you need me to open the balcony door?” “No, I'll take the elevator,” Korsy said. “Just buzz me in?” “Yeah, for sure.”

A few minutes later Korsy was knocking on the door. Henderson let him in. Korsy's usual smirking nature had dissolved into a more frantic and nervous demeanour. He waved to Theo on the couch. “Hey, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?” “No. Would it matter?” Theo sighed. “Are you alright, man?” Henderson asked putting a hand on Korsy's shoulder. “You look pale.” “No, I'm fine…” Korsy said, scratching the back of his head. No one was convinced. “Theo, how have you been?” Theo shrugged. “No more morning sickness. Not in a while, anyway…” “Well, that's good!” Korsy said. He patted Henderson's back. “And I imagine you're taking good care of him?” “Doing my best.” He closed the door behind Korsy. “Are you hungry?” “No, no,” Korsy said. “Have you eaten recently?” Henderson added. “Do you have allergies or dietary restrictions?” “I, uh, no, not really and no,” Korsy said. “But I'm not hungry, it's okay.” “Alright.” Henderson went into the kitchen anyway and started heating up a bowl of stew. “Come sit,” Theo said. “Talk to me.” Korsy went over and sat down, although he still didn't seem particularly relaxed. “You need to tell me what's up,” Theo said. “You are clearly upset about something.” “Yeah, well, I, uh…” Korsy took a deep breath. “Um, I have a friend I've been, you know, getting benefits from and we're not serious or anything, but uh…” Henderson came back and placed the bowl of stew in Korsy's hands before going and sitting down himself. “Eat.” “Oh, uh. Thanks.” “Don't mention it.” Korsy took a moment to try some of the broth. “This is very good.” “My mother sent it over,” Henderson said. “Tell her she's an incredible chef,” Korsy said. “I will. Now, please continue. What's this about a friend with benefits?” “Right…” Korsy scratched the back of his neck. “We didn't know it was possible, but I might've…gotten him pregnant.” Theo's eyes widened. “Oh my god, really?” “How would you believe it wasn't possible?” Henderson asked. “Is he trans?” “No, he's cis. That's why we didn't think it could happen,” Korsy said. “How did it happen, then?” Theo asked. “Or ‘maybe’ happen.” “It's kinda weird and complicated,” Korsy explained. “But he accidentally ate something he shouldn't have and it gave him a womb and now he doesn't want to talk to me and I don't know what to do.” “Um, what in the world did he eat?” Henderson asked. “Alien made stuff,” Korsy said. “You don't have to worry about it. APID has it now. Probably will study it then destroy it.” “Okay, as long as it's not like some weird new mango or something,” Theo said. “Although, do they have to destroy it?” Henderson said. “I bet some transwomen would love that. Even some cis gay couples trying to have kids.” “Well, they are studying it,” Korsy said. “Too untested and unregulated as it is right now.” “Yeah, that's fair,” Henderson said. “Well, you don't know yet for sure if he's pregnant, right?” Theo said. “It could just be a close call.” “That's what we're hoping,” Korsy said. “But, I just… I don't want this to ruin what we have going on. At first it was just sex, but I feel like we're becoming good friends, like you and me.” “I've met you like three times,” Theo said. “That's a lot for me, to be honest,” Korsy said. “I'm away so much, if I want to make friends, it has to be quick.” “Also fair,” Henderson said. “Well, if you're going to be my friend, you have to understand that you don't leave my house hungry.” “This isn't your house,” Theo argued. “Wherever I am is home,” Henderson stated. “You certainly act like it…” Theo said. “Oh hush, you love that I feed you,” Henderson said, patting Theo’s belly. “Your mom feeds me,” Theo argued as well. “That's only sometimes. I cook for you.” Henderson turned back to their guest. “Korsy, don't you wrap it up?” “I do when there's, you know, a vagina involved. Or if they're not tellurian,” Korsy said. “Otherwise, it's whatever they want. Elves don't get STIs.” Henderson looked to Theo again. “Can you confirm?” “Confirm what?” Theo huffed. “I don't know if elves get STIs!” “No, you two almost boned,” Henderson said. “Did he wrap it up for you?” Theo blushed. “Oh. Uh, yes he did. Can we not talk about that? That was so embarrassing…” “What? It's nothing to be embarrassed about,” Henderson said. “You seduced an elf.” “Hardly, he seduced me,” Theo said. “I am certainly attracted to you,” Korsy admitted. Theo pulled a blanket over his head. “Seriously, this is too much…” “Elves certainly seem to like you as much as you like them,” Korsy said. “Considering how many you keep in company.” Henderson frowned, eyeing Korsy. “You're not still on about me being an elf?” “You're still denying it?” Korsy inquired. “I'm not an elf!” Henderson exclaimed. “The thing is, you are though,” Korsy stated. Henderson threw up his hands. “Fine, prove it then.” “Okay.” Korsy put the bowl of stew on the table, a smug grin crossing his face. “Have you ever been sick?” Henderson shrugged. “No.” “Are your ears very sensitive to touch?” Korsy asked. “Aren’t they all?” “Do you have a hard time growing body hair?” Henderson smirked. “No.” Korsy waved a hand. “That's neither here nor there… You're part human anyway.” “I'm all human,” Henderson stated. “Do you resonate with any one or more elements of nature?” Korsy continued. “For example, animals, water, ores, gemstones, fire, wind, the moon, the sun, the stars, etc.” “Define resonate,” Theo piped in. “Is it like a glow or something?” “No, it's like… Well, for me, I have a good bond with magical animals,” Korsy said. “Anyway, it's hard to explain. It's a really strong pull towards those kinds of things. And them to you.” “I can't think of anything like that,” Henderson said. “What about people?” Theo asked. “Henderson's really good at attracting a crowd. People always want to hear his stories and hang out with him at work and stuff.” “That's called being an extrovert,” Henderson stated rolling his eyes. “I mean some magical creatures have a way with people, but mostly demons and sirens,” Korsy said. “Demons are real?!” Theo gasped. “Oh, yeah. But don't worry about them. You're not surprised about the sirens, though?” “He met a mermaid already,” Henderson said. “At that pregnancy group.” “No, he's my case worker,” Theo said. “Oh, right! Fay!” Korsy recalled. “Yeah, Fay's cool.” “We are way off topic,” Theo re-centred. “Right.” Korsy stood up and held his hands out, palms up. “All these questions don't really matter as much as the physical. Stand up, Mr Neil. Lift your arms.” “This is stupid,” Henderson said but Theo nudged him and he got up reluctantly. “Hurry up.” “I said lift your arms,” Korsy said. “Also, it's easier with your shirt off.” “You're lucky you're cute...” Henderson stripped down to his waist and put his arms up. “What, might I ask, are you looking for?” “Elf mark,” Korsy said. “Don't worry, There's only three possible ones below the belt and they're very unlikely considering already what we know about you, so I'll only look for those ones if I don't find any other one.” “Well, you won’t so I might as well undo my drawstrings…” Henderson stated. “Also, I have a lot of ‘marks'. Even if you think you found something, it's probably my condition.” “Elf marks are very specific. It’s not gonna look like a skin condition.” Korsy took out his phone to cross reference a photo he had from a book he wasn't allowed to read, let alone photograph. He checked under Henderson's armpits first. “Not an aquatic elf...” He turned out both of Henderson’s palms. “Not wood or wild.” “How many are there?” Theo asked. “Uh, several,” Korsy said. “About nine, I think?” He went behind Henderson and sighed. “Darn, not Avariel. That would've been unlikely, but so cool...” “What are Avariel?” Henderson asked. “Winged elves,” Theo said excitedly, pulling himself up off the couch so he could look too. “You do know your stuff,” Korsy said. “Anyway, they're long gone.” Korsy pushed forward Henderson's ears to check behind them. “Not Star or Lythari.” “What's left?” Theo asked. “Just Drow, Sun and Moon,” Korsy said. “I don't think he'd be drow, but we'll check anyway. Pants off.” “Are you serious?” Henderson huffed. “You can keep your panties on,” Korsy shrugged. “Just need a look at the inner thigh and then your butt.” “Let me guess, Moon is on the butt?” Henderson sighed. “…Listen, I don't make this stuff up. It's ancient,” Korsy said. “I can assure you, there's nothing there,” Henderson stated. “How often do you look at your butt?” Korsy asked. “Probably a lot,” Theo said. “He has a nice butt.” “I have a nice butt,” Henderson concurred. “Well, we can check the Sun first if you want,” Korsy said. “Not much hope for that one though, but we'll see.” “Where's that one?” Theo asked. “Sole of the foot,” Korsy said. “My feet are completely vitiligo at this point,” Henderson said. “Even if there was something there, it'd be gone.” “Humour me,” Korsy said. Henderson grimaced, but he sat down and put his foot up on the coffee table. “You better not have a foot fetish or something.” “I'm just taking a look, I'm not taking pictures,” Korsy said. “You didn't say ‘no'.” “I don't have a foot fetish,” Korsy stated. “Frankly, it's the last place I want to look. I'm a butt guy.” He went around the coffee table and picked up Henderson's foot before putting it down. “Hm. Other one.” Henderson switched feet, and then Korsy's eyes lit up. He picked up the other man's foot and wiped at it with his thumb, checking in case what he was seeing was dirt. “What?” Henderson groaned in annoyance. “Ha, you're walking on sunshine, baby!” Korsy said in delight. “You have to be kidding...” Henderson pulled his foot back so he could get up and try to look at his sole. Right on his heel, he saw the little circle of spots with little dots around the outside, mimicking solar flares. “What the hell...” Theo spread his arms. “Oh my god, you're a Sun Elf!” Henderson exhaled in frustration and put his foot down. “I...ugh, this is dumb...” “Sun elves are pretty incredible, I'm not gonna lie,” Korsy said. “I didn't suspect them, but it wasn't impossible. The whole extrovert thing makes sense though. They're very civil and good with magic.” “Are you happy now?” Henderson snapped. “You figured it out. Now what? Do you like me more knowing I'm an elf?” “Whoa, man. Chill,” Korsy said. “It's not like that at all. Just wanted to help you discover something new about yourself. Don't you want to know your background?” “No! I knew my background!” Henderson exclaimed. “I was proud to be what I was! What I knew! People have always tried to tell me that being who and what I am was bad, secondary, unimportant. They wanted me to be something else! But I made myself love me and my skin! I love my black heritage! I don't need to be anything else! Do you understand that?” “I'm not trying to take any of that away from you,” Korsy said. “But, I'm sorry, man, I... I don't know, I thought you'd want to know.” “I've said I didn't want to know,” Henderson reminded. “I don't need you to think for me.” “I'm sorry. I thought...” Korsy didn't know what else to say. “Did you, though? Did you really think?” Henderson asked. “I only let you do this because you're going through some shit right now and you needed a distraction. But this is too far.” Korsy crossed his arms. “Look, man. I said I'm sorry. I don't know what else to tell you. I don't appreciate you insulting me." “Oh, fuck off, honestly,” Henderson said. “I'm done with this.” “You agreed to do this.” “I didn't think you'd actually find anything!” Henderson spat. He went to the door and started pulling on his shoes. “What, you're just leaving?” Theo asked, waddling over. “I'm sorry, Theo. I just gotta go,” Henderson said. “No, this is my fault.” Theo apologised. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have encouraged him...” “It's fine, okay?” Henderson said opening the door. “I still... I need to breathe.” “Okay...” “I will call you.” “Okay.” Korsy went to follow Henderson. “Listen, let's just talk about this.” “No. Stay here,” Henderson said, stopping him with his hand. “You and Theo can geek out about elf shit and whatever. I gotta go.” “Alright, dude...” Korsy sighed. “I am sorry. Really.” Henderson backed out and just shut the door. “Shit...” Korsy groaned and went back to the couch. He covered his face. “Fucking hell... Am I just pushing away everyone today?” “It's okay... Henderson will calm down,” Theo said, coming back and sitting down. “I think it's just a lot for him to take in... And you didn't push your friend away. Everyone needs time.” Korsy took his hands away and his eyes were tearing up. “I just... I don't want people to be miserable. Not because of me.” “No one wants that, but honestly, they won't be,” Theo said. “I mean, I've been pretty fucking miserable lately, but I do think I’ll get through this... You'll get through this and so will they. And let me handle Henderson.” “Yeah... I'm really sorry I dropped in out of nowhere and dropped all this drama on you,” Korsy said. “I know you've got a lot going on.” “I've pretty much just accepted this stuff, so there's not actually much for me to do, except just keep sitting on my ass...” Theo said. “In a few weeks, I'm supposed to start growing again though. Not looking forward to that.” “Well, you've got good care and I think you're gonna get through it,” Korsy said. “I appreciate that.” Theo patted Korsy's knee. “And don't apologise for looking for help. What's worrying you most about this situation, though?” Korsy took a deep breath. “My friend... He says he doesn't want to be pregnant, and he bought a pill for it... But, I don’t know, I'm worried he'll change his mind? And I can't...I can't be a dad...” “Boy, do I feel that...” Theo said, rubbing his stomach. “But, I mean, I don't know your friend, but if you feel like he feels the same way, then I don't think you should worry about it.” “Yeah, I trust him,” Korsy said. “It's all I can do... And we're not a couple, and he has a pretty small apartment and he seems more work driven than anything, so I think we're okay, but it's just that little chance that's scaring me.” “Well, you said he might not be pregnant at all,” Theo said. “So, it's like there's three ways it could go, and the majority is in favour of no baby.” “Yeah, you're right...” Korsy closed his eyes for a moment. “You're right. Thanks.” “Listen, feel free to stay over if you want,” Theo said. “There's more food, and we could watch more Mando. To keep your head off of things.” “Yeah, if it's alright... If Henderson comes back though, he probably won't want to see me.” “Don't worry about Henderson. You know, we could play Mario Kart first.” “Yeah, so you can challenge my win streak?” “Last time was a fluke.” “Sure. You're on.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Aspiration Part 2. Yan Chrollo x Reader [COMM]

click here for part one! 

“You’ll hurt your neck if you keep craning your head down like that.” 

What good it does to chastise you on an insignificant action like this is beyond you. There isn’t much else to do until you land in this “unknown” destination that he’s spoken of earlier, yet the thought of entertaining conversation with him doesn’t feel appealing either. Being kidnapped will have that effect on you, he shouldn’t expect otherwise but seems to. 

“Nothing a few painkillers won’t solve.” you respond with forced disinterest, flipping to the next page of the magazine Chrollo gave you earlier. It feels like a minor loss to entertain him with a response, your cold shoulder treatment temporarily lifting. 

You’ve read this magazine at least three times by now, hoping that giving your mind something to focus on will steady you in reality. The lackluster stories about summer sales, latest keto recipes, and what celebrities have been up to lately offer none to little substance. Yet your eyes continue scanning them dutifully as if it’s a sacred text recovered by a forgotten civilization.

Letting out a small yawn, you continue to read until you get to the familiar final page once again. Fully intending on completing the cycle of rereading it, Chrollo interrupts this by plucking it from your grasp before you get the chance. All you can offer in return is a halfhearted glare and grimace. 

“Hey! I was reading that.” you protest with a frown, feeling vulnerable without anything to hold onto. 

He ignores your agitated exclamation, placing the magazine out of your reach by his side. “I don’t believe you’re missing out on anything of importance, seeing as you’ve read it multiple times already.” 

Huffing but not humoring him with a response, you cross your arms and stare out the window. The clouds below you are an enticing sight, still not enough to maintain your attention for the remaining thirty or so minutes of this flight. When traveling, it’s always the last amount of time before reaching your destination that feels like the longest.

Chrollo lets out a disapproving sigh at your actions, then pulls back his sleeve to check the time. “It won’t be much longer. I’ll attribute your current behavior to being hungry.”

“Well, yeah, there’s that,” you finally look over at him, lips pursing indignantly. “And there’s the fact that I’ve been kidnapped by an A bounty criminal and am currently heading to god knows where at four in the morning.” 

“You’re by all means welcome to rest.” 

How he can calmly rebuke all your thinly veiled sarcasm is a special talent, like water off a duck’s back. You don’t want to admit it, however, you’re grateful he isn’t hotheaded and offended by your boorish remarks. Watching your tongue would be how any sane person would deal with a threat like this… then there’s you. Making poor decisions and winging it. A life motto, really. 

An invitation to rest your weary eyes isn’t easily declined, an alluring proposal. His presence makes it a challenge to feel comfortable enough to fall asleep, that state leaving you entirely vulnerable. When you’re awake you have some tandem of control, even if it isn’t much. 

“Where exactly would I do that? I don’t see any beds in here.” You emphasize your rebuttal by glancing around the room you two occupy, as if one would materialize at your words. Now that would be a useful nen ability, if he happened to have it. 

Chrollo smiles, in a way that doesn’t sit well with you. “Why not rest on my shoulder?” 

“W-whatever happened to your previous care over the well being of my neck? That’ll just hurt it after five or so minutes.” you stutter back, face flushing as his lips quirk further upwards. Amusement is dancing within his dark eyes, drawing out further discomfort from you. He seems to like exchanges like this, flustering you with the same ease as breathing.

“Painkillers. You said it yourself,” Chrollo throws your previous statement before you, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. “I’d be happy to get them, if that’s the only reservation you have about sleeping on me.” 

Inhaling sharply at his teasing assault, you close your eyes to prevent yourself from doing anything foolish. Gritting your teeth and balling your fists by your side, you remember why you were giving him the cold shoulder earlier. Talking to Chrollo is exasperating, all of his composed words like needles in your skin. Not wanting to swat at the wasp nest any further, your mind starts drifting, in a last ditch effort to distract yourself. 

It’s been an eventful night. The most memorable night of your life, if you’re being honest. You had always acknowledged and accepted the risks of looking into the Phantom Troupe. The stories of their unabashed cruelty served as an appropriate warning. Playing it close to the chest usually entailed fear of death, so never in your wildest dreams were you expecting… whatever this is. 

At least it beats dying? So you’ve got that going for you.

There isn’t anything you can do now, is what you’ve been telling yourself. Playing along with his whims is all you can think to do. It isn’t the ideal situation, but your only option now is to wait for an opening for escape. Even though Chrollo has more strength than you, he is still human. The thought offers a glimmer of encouragement, knowing that people aren’t infallible. You’ll take advantage of any weaknesses you can find. 

Getting more information out of him is a path worth pursuing for the time being. 

“I hope we’re not camping,” you murmur, shuddering at the horrific thought. “Bugs eat me like I’m the last supper.” 

“We won’t be camping. And despite the name, the last supper isn’t actually the last time the disciples ate.” There’s something extremely ironic about a murderer correcting you on this. 

“Please forgive me for not being up to date on biblical theology. I’ll be sure to correct that before the next test,” you deadpan before a realization hits you. “Wait, so what exactly are we doing? How am I even allowed to be on this blimp without my passport? God, none of this makes any sense…” 

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever ask. To answer your questions, we’ll be staying at a hotel for a few weeks. I know some people in the area who are interested in purchasing what was stolen earlier.” Chrollo explains with a casual air, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt. 

It all hits you again. This is really happening to you. An inescapable reality where you’re at the complete mercy of this man, who despite showing no interest in harming you, is fully capable of doing so. Your contempt style of speaking until now has been a pitiful defense mechanism to help you cope with the extremity of this situation, not doing anything aside from momentarily distracting you. Running a hand through your hair, you feel your heart pounding within once more.

Chrollo takes note of how you shift in your seat, and tilts his head. “I understand this has been quite a lot to process. I meant what I said earlier -- about having no intention to harm you -- unless you do something that forces my hand.” 

He smiles, the warm action not matching up to the dark implications of his words. It makes your blood run cold, how a monster can wear the skin of a human. There isn’t any benefit of getting yourself further worked up, so you continue rambling on. Life is all about testing the boundaries of what you can and can’t get away with. 

“I still… don’t really get it. I know I was looking into information about you guys, but in that case, why not just,” you gulp, fearful that saying it will solidify the possibility. “Kill me? Even more so now that I know more.” 

For the first time all night, Chrollo doesn’t offer an immediate quip in response. He carefully considers your words, in a way that leads you to believe he doesn’t entirely know the answer himself. It’s not that you have a death wish, yet your curiosity is overwhelming. Whenever he does decide to grace you with an answer, maybe you’ll find out something that’ll prove useful to escaping in the future.

“There’s no simple reason that’ll satisfy you. You piqued my interest, and that’s a dangerous thing to do with a thief,” he leans over, clearly assessing you as you back away in response. “I confirmed my suspicions when we spoke earlier in the car. So for the time being… I want to observe you.” 

He was right when he said the answer won’t be satisfactory. His response leaves more questions than answers, some of which you don’t want to delve into. Backing down from this befuddling conversation, you focus on something else.

The soothing night sky outside elicits butterflies in your stomach. Darkness allows for the city lights beneath to stand out, little twinkling dots of light growing closer as the blimp descends. You can’t help but feel a sense of relief knowing that you’ll be on the ground soon, a sense of claustrophobia constricting you in this room with no escape. His suffocating presence doesn’t help on that front. 

Chrollo is finally considerate enough to leave you to your thoughts. Within a few more minutes you’ve made your landing, leaving through a private terminal with what has to be forged ID. A black car rental car is waiting for you outside the airport, Chrollo opening the door to the passenger seat for you. The gentleman-like act almost causes you to roll your eyes, but you’re far too exhausted to do anything other than sitting down obediently. You’ll save the cheek for a later time. 

He shuts some luggage into the trunk, then starts the car with a low hum, driving off to where you presume the hotel he mentioned earlier is. Looking out the window, you squint as the sun begins to rise into the sky. Your eyelids grow heavier by the second, in spite of how desperately you cling to consciousness. Eventually, the world around you grows distant, and you’re lulled into a deep slumber.

Dreamless rest is stolen from you, Chrollo gingerly shaking your shoulders and bringing you back to cruel reality. Letting out a low groan at the unwelcome interruption, you feel like swatting his hands away. “What… oh, it’s you.” 

“Good morning to you too,” If he’s bothered by your unenthusiastic greeting, he doesn’t show it. Taking out the keys from the car, the vehicle ceases making noise. “We’re here now. You did mention wanting to sleep on a bed earlier, didn’t you?”

Craning your neck to look out the window, you see only about half an hour has passed since you first fell asleep. Outside is a grandiose looking building that must be your hotel. As much as you hate to admit it, you find yourself staring at what has to be the very expensive venue. Much more than anything you could ever hope to afford. While you’re appreciating the sight before you, Chrollo gets out to get his luggage. 

That’s right. What are you supposed to do for clothes anyways? All of it’s stuck back at your apartment, and you don’t think Chrollo was generous enough to pack for you. At least a hotel will have toiletries, so that won’t be a concern. 

‘Oh well. I guess we’ll cross that bridge once we get to it.’

“Do you need me to carry you?” Chrollo calls over from the curb, two large suitcases in hand. You realize only one of them has a lock on it.

Not even humoring him with a response, you get out of the car, keeping your distance from him. To your understanding, attempting to flee or signal down anyone will earn “unwanted consequences”, or at least that’s how he put it. It’s one thing to endanger yourself in a daring escape, but you can’t justify putting other’s lives on the line. 

Morning chill prompts you to wrap your arms around yourself, warding off the cold. Following Chrollo’s lead, you head through revolving doors into a breathtaking lobby. Warm, yellow light from a glass chandelier basks the room in an ethereal glow, accenting the white marble flooring. He walks up to one of the employees behind a desk, checking in and getting a key to the room. 

In the liberating few minutes away from Chrollo, your eyes sweep the surroundings for any openings. Is it possible to make a run for it for one of the cars outside? He’s fast -- you’ve seen it for yourself -- undoubtedly more than you. Such an obvious attempt at escape will only be met with failure. The lobby is wide open, no possibilities for hiding evident. 

‘There goes that idea.’

Your insistent glancing around the area must’ve given you away, Chrollo placing a warning hand on your shoulder, and giving a firm squeeze. “Let’s head to our room. You must be exhausted by now.” 

Once again offering no signs of protest, you head to an elevator together. Chrollo hits the button with the highest number on it. Ascending upwards, you watch the lights around the rims of the buttons with interest until it reaches level thirty. The elevator adds to your dizziness, a fuzzy feeling budding in your head. 

With a ding, the door opens to reveal a long hallway. Chrollo checks the number on his key once more, before navigating to a room.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he opens the door to your shared suite. The lobby clued you in earlier that this is no cheap hotel, the suite confirming that. Since it’s at the top of the building, the entire city is visible to you. It’s a breathtaking sight, one that keeps you entranced as Chrollo shuts the door behind you. Looking out the window, you see more signs of life as the morning progresses.

The glass opens up to a balcony, the handle locked and cold to the touch. It’s probably not a good idea to walk out without permission, not sure of the act could be interpreted in a negative way. 

Chrollo takes a place by your side, a little too close for your liking. Amidst the beauty before him, he’s more interested in looking at you. “I take it you like the view?” 

“I’ve never been in a place like this,” you tell him, eyes wide and mouth agape at the breathtaking scenery. “If I had known we’d be staying here, I would’ve let you kidnap me sooner.”

“That’s a joke, by the way.” 

He chuckles lowly at your rushed cover up, thinking little of it. “Are you hungry?” 

Now that gets your attention. You can only imagine how wonderful the food here is, and you haven’t had anything to eat since your dinner last night. Having gone so long without food you’re surprised you aren’t ravenous, the kidnapping likely stunting your appetite. Still, you won’t be turning down the offer. 

You nod your head to confirm his words. Chrollo walks over to a phone in the room to place an order for room service, quietly listing off a variety of breakfast foods. While he’s occupied doing this, you look around what will be your residence for the next few weeks. He must not take any issue in your wondering about, seeing as he’s covering the only possible exit. How considerate of him. 

While he’s busy placing an order, you wonder off to take in your surroundings. From the door that leads to the hallway is a small closet on the left, and an expansive kitchen in the middle of the room. To the right of which is a living room, all surrounded by glass windows. That leaves your sleeping arrangement. 

Saving the bedroom for last, your fears are confirmed. You realize that even in such an expansive suite, there’s only a single bedroom, with a king sized bed. Luck doesn’t seem to be on your side. Well, it’s not like you can’t sleep on the floor or couch if the opportunity presents itself. A nagging voice in the back of your mind tells you Chrollo won’t allow for that, unfortunately. 

Plopping yourself down on the right side of the bed, you could almost melt into the comfortable mattress. Tempting as it is to fall asleep, you don’t trust Chrollo enough to give that a shot. Frowning at your fancy evening wear from the previous night, your previous concern about not having any clothes to change into returns. The bathroom did have a fluffy, white robe in it. 

‘That feels too vulnerable... I’ll take my chances with the dress.’

Getting up before you fall asleep, you look around for anything that might be useful. The phone in the living room might be an idea, if you could somehow call and alert the staff of your predicament. Something tells you Chrollo has already taken that into account, and you write off the idea as soon as it appears.

Speaking of Chrollo, he enters the bedroom with an inviting cart of food in front of him. Everything from hashed browns, scrambled eggs, pastries, pancakes, bacon and waffles sit atop silver plates. 

“I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got everything. Help yourself.” 

Not needing to be told twice, you grab a plate and go to town. Chrollo grabs a steaming cup of tea, taking a sip and sitting down next to you. The bed creaks underneath his added weight, you too occupied with eating to care about the implications of his action.

He raises the glass to his lips. “Is there anything else you want to ask me, [First]?” 

Swallowing your previous bite, you give his question some thought. There is plenty on your mind that you’d love to know. A better, more conclusive answer for why he kidnapped you at the top of that list. You recall how he looked detached from reality when you asked him about it on the blimp, leading you to believe that asking again will earn a similar result.

‘It’d be best to play it safe for now.’

“Yes, actually,” you take a bite of a blueberry muffin, wiping your mouth before continuing. “Am I supposed to wear this damned dress for the remainder of this... arrangement?” 

"As lovely as you look in it, no. One of the suitcases has clothes for you, among other things.” 

Blinking at this new information, you wonder if he ever intended on telling you this. In your short time of being acquainted with Chrollo, you’ve picked up on how he rewards you for conversation. Humiliating as it is to play along with his tune, you’ll have to do just that. 

“Other things...?” you repeat back in a faint murmur, showcasing your confusion by tilting your head. Chrollo nods his head in affirmation to this, setting his now empty tea cup on a nightstand with a faint click. 

“You strike me as the type to want something to do, so I went through the trouble of procuring a few of your belongings. A few books, and the like.” 

‘Ah. How terribly considerate of him.’ 

It’s not much, but knowing you have some of your personal possessions is comforting. Anything is better than being stuck alone with him, or your thoughts. The worst possible case scenarios. 

Your meal now finished, you get up and place your dirty plates back onto the tray. Chrollo continues relaxing, eyes still following your every moment. How is he not exhausted? The only thing keeping you awake is your fear of what could happen when you’re asleep, and even that is beginning to wane. Maybe some caffeine will help with that. 

“I’m gonna get my stuff.” you call over, holding your breath in anticipation of a response. 

At his lack of protest, you assume this action is approved of. Helping yourself to the suitcase without a lock on it, you unzip it to find it’s just as he said. Some of your clothes from home, your switch, books, a few offline games, your favorite perfume, shampoo and body wash. 

It’s creepy to know someone went into your residence and took your stuff, but that’s the least of your problems right now. While grabbing a change of clothes, a thought hits you. Looking up towards the phone Chrollo used to call room service earlier, your hand twitches by your side. It’s a temptation, taunting you over the possibility of freedom. 

‘He’s in the other room relaxing. Maybe, just maybe I have enough time...’

Cautiously, as not to alert him of your scheme, you begin to silently tiptoe over to the phone. Time feels like it goes slower, not even trusting yourself to breathe in fear of him hearing it. Hand hovering over your possible saving grace, your fingers grow closer to pressing 9. 

That’s when he appears in the corner of your eye, leading you to hurriedly bring back your hand and straighten your back. 

“I already cut the wires. It was a good idea though.” he calls over from the doorway, leaning against it and smiling in a way that makes your stomach curl. Not a single detail has gone overlooked, but what were you expecting from a mastermind criminal who has managed to go this long without being caught? 

Checking to see if his words hold any merit, you find it’s just as he said. Wires cut in a single clean motion, biting your lip as your hopes evaporate in front of you. 

It reminds you of Tantalus. Who was cursed to be hungry and thirsty forever, in the taunting reach of food and water that’d recede whenever he went to partake in it. An eternal punishment you’re now being subjected to. 

‘I should’ve known it wouldn’t have been so easy. Still, how could he have not made a single sound? I didn’t even hear the bed creak.’ 

Laughing nervously at being caught, you step back as to avoid further consequence, cheeks flushing at being caught in your measly attempt. “Just... checking to make sure all is in order, aha...” 

Walking away from it, you look to change the subject. Chrollo doesn’t seem bothered by your defiant actions, having clearly already anticipated your idea. He rolls out the cart from before, leading you to stiffen when he walks past you. Heart pounding away in your chest, you silently observe him opening the door to place it outside. 

He looks back at your anxious form after shutting the door. “I’d rather not have to constantly monitor you. Whether or not I do will be determined by how you act.” 

There’s a thick pressure in the room from his words, one that pushes down on you like a heavy weight. Unable to maintain eye contact with him any longer, you look to the side, clutching your clothes to your person. Chrollo doesn’t have to resort to infuriated threats or physical violence, his presence commanding enough on its own.

To ease the tension in the air, Chrollo speaks up. “If I happened to leave out anything you need, let me know.” 

Grateful for the change in subject, you nod your head in a daze. From now on you’ll have to be more discreet. Mentally slapping yourself for not giving your earlier actions more consideration, you move on at Chrollo’s lack of reprimanding. 

“Is it alright if I get changed?” you speak up, voice meek enough to remind you of a mouse. Chrollo considers you before nodding his head. You jump at the opportunity to be alone, borderline running to the master bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

Looking in the mirror, you see your frowning reflection staring back. Placing a hand to your face, you inspect the bags forming underneath your eyes. Peeling off the dress feels heavenly, using a wet rag on the sink to quickly clean your body. Showering with a murderer in the other room isn’t a tempting proposition.

Putting on your clothes, you feel like a new person. Straightening up your hair and splashing your face with cold water, you place your hands onto the cool marble counter top. 

‘I’m going to get out of this. It’ll be okay, [First]. Stay calm.’

Finishing your mini pep talk, you fold your previous outfit and place it on the floor. Will Chrollo even allow someone into your room to clean it? Not that it matters, seeing as you spotted a washer and dryer earlier. 

He’s sitting up in bed when you open the door, a book now in hand. At your presence, he looks up to acknowledge you. Chrollo’s dark hair frames his face, and you flush at his admittedly handsome appearance. How are you supposed to remain composed in his company? 

“I can close the blinds if you intend to sleep.” he offers before turning to the next page of his book. 

Oh, that’s right. Now that you’re wearing pajamas he must assume you want to sleep. The next hurdle of this headache inducing dilemma, Chrollo having the expectation of you resting next to him. Eyelids feeling heavier by the second, you wonder how much coffee would be necessary to keep you awake.

That’d still be delaying the inevitable. Coffee or not you won’t be able to stay conscious forever. Earlier, when you fell asleep in the car, he didn’t do anything weird... right? Nothing that you can account for. 

He looks up at you, noting your lack of response. Unfreezing from your prior stiff position, you make the decision to sit down next to the bed. Chrollo most likely wants you where he can see you after your previous stunt, and sleeping on the floor isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Aside from the back pains. 

Making yourself comfortable, you fully intend to fall asleep on the floor. Chrollo closes his book at your antics, coming over to your side of the bed and frowning. “What are you doing?”

“I’m about to sleep.” 

“... On the floor?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” 

Unreadable grey eyes pierce through your being, sending chills down your spine. From your previous interactions with him, you thought a measly sign of resistance such as this one wouldn’t matter. Your initial assessment must be incorrect, as he sends you a disapproving look.

“There’s no reed for that.” he reasons with you, leaving little room for argument. Not wanting to give in, you remain planted in your spot. Without wasting anymore time, he gets up and crouches next to you. You wonder if he’s going to chastise you further for your childish actions. 

He instead lifts you up in a single, fluid motion. A small noise of shock leaves your lips at the sensation of being hoisted up, scrambling to clutch onto him in fear of falling. It doesn’t last long, as he places you down onto the bed with gentleness that you didn’t expect him to have.

Arms receding back to his side, Chrollo returns to his previous position as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. You feel your face burning, a bright red glow coupled with it. The scent of his cologne lingers, memory of his touch flustering you further. 

Clearing your throat to play off the events, you still can’t manage to look at him. “I was planning on sleeping here, actually. Was just testing the floor out.” 

He opens his book back up to its previous page, lips quirking into an amused smile. “I’m sure you were.” 

Having no other options, you lay on your side facing the wall. Muscles taut and incapable of relaxing in his presence, you squeeze your eyes shut to no avail. All you hear is the gentle hum of the air conditioner on the wall, and the occasional page flip from him. 

More time passes, at a snails pace. An hour ago you would’ve entered slumber easily, now it taunts and eludes you. Huffing at your inability to rest, you adjust yourself against the soft mattress. 

Sighing quietly in defeat, you attempt to make conversation to pass the time. “Do you not ever need to sleep?” 

“I’ll be fine for a while longer. Are you concerned for my well being?” You can imagine the smug visage on his face, clear as day. It’s tempting to want to bite back with no, you’re not very worried about his health. You bite your tongue and instead ignore the teasing.

Sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest, you look over at him. His guard is still on high alert even while he’s reading. There’s an immeasurably gap in strength between you two, accented by his casual demeanor. 

“That makes two of us. I don’t feel tired now,” you narrow your eyes in his direction, wanting desperately to know what it is he’s thinking. “Something tells me we’re not going to be sitting here all day.” 

“For a majority of it. I’ll consider taking you out for dinner if you continue acting agreeable.” 

Tempting you with food, huh? It’s a most valiant effort, one that almost threatens to win you over. Especially since cities always have a variety of nice restaurants to choose from. Giving his proposition some thought, you realize there might be a catch. There always is with these kinds of ordeals. 

“What is your definition of... agreeable?” 

Disliking the way the word feels on your tongue, you purse your lips. Dehumanizing is how you’d describe it, knowing that your actions are being analyzed and studied. If Chrollo notices the bitterness in your voice, he doesn’t feel a need to mention it.

“I don’t care much for labels, but I’d equate it to wanting to date you. I told you earlier that I had taken an interest in you, that’s what I meant.” Chrollo explains to you with ease that tells you how much thought he’s given it.

When he had told you he was interested in you earlier, you thought he meant it in an entirely different way. Like how you find a certain movie interesting or entertaining. Now you’re unsure what to think. Mind swarming with thoughts ranging from maybe it’s a good thing, to what do you do now? 

Finally, you deliver your eloquent and delicately woven response, having put every level of care into it. 

“Oh.” 

Glancing over at your dumbfounded expression, he can’t help but laugh airily at your mortified look. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

[bitch-for-a-rainbow]

So there's a blanddcheadcanons post that says that "Kara is the mortal avatar of Rao" and I really don't like it, especially in the context of SG 3x04 (The Faithful). At best, as was pointed out to me by a friend with whom I discussed this post, the House of El is likely blessed and somewhat sponsored by Rao, which probably doesn't do much but produce Krypton's greatest heroes, given what the word "El" **means** in Kryptonian. I'm interested in your thoughts on this (pls post your answer).

    I reject the headcannon solely because if it were true it would mean Coville was right and I fucking hate that bitch.

     In all seriousness, though, this is an idea I've seen a lot and I'm not a huge fan of. I don't know much about Raoism beyond what appears in the show and that which can be inferred off of the show. One thing I would point out though is that El in Kryptonian (while obviously being intended to mean God by the original comic writers) can mean Sun or Stars, and since the Kryptonians in the show are, as far as I can tell, monotheistic, and worshipped only one particular star, the El family is not necessarily named God. It would, however, signify their enormous prestige on Krypton and contribute to the famous El pride (or rather, arrogance). I’m not sure it would necessarily have to mean anything more than that-- that the Els are a respected house who have produced a variety of successful politicians, civil servants, and scientists. And (this time reaching a little bit) that they are perhaps so old and respected that their house name was once a title. 

      There is a certain allure to the theory, for sure. Kara is a paragon character. She always, always does what she thinks is right, regardless of the cost, personal or global, and regardless of what other people might think of it. She has a very direct moral compass, and there are only a handful of times when she doesn’t follow it, all of which involve saving Lena. Ship who you want, but it is notable that Kara routinely prioritzes Lena’s life over that of others given the rarity of that happening otherwise. She never even considered breaking Rick Thompson’s father out of prison when he kidnapped Alex, and all he’d committed was bank robbery. Kara has lines she does not cross (though murder is clearly not one of them). She is a character that has seen some of the worst that sentient life is capable of, has seen more death and suffering than most people could imagine, and she came out of it with an all-encompassing desire to protect others. She lives to give people hope. Plus, the humor of having Kara-- the one person most offended by the idea of being an Avatar of Rao-- turn out to be an Avatar of Rao is great.

       But, I would also say that having Kara want to do good because she is the avatar of a benevolent god is reductive and not particularly true to her character. It is true that helping and protecting people is a large part of the core of who Kara is. But there is a difference between altruism and the self-destructive, bordering of suicidal desperation to save absolutely everyone that Kara practices. And to anyone who doubts the suicidal bit, I direct you to the season 1 finale where Kara literally goes on a goodbye tour because she thinks if she goes out to fight Non she’ll die. She still goes because she has hope, but that hope is that she can at least save Earth with her life. She doesn’t fight because she is certain in the ultimate victory of good and justice. She does it because she more afraid to lose another family than she is to die. Kara doesn’t become Supergirl and risk her own life because she believes in good, she does it because she can’t stand to listen to people suffer-- because she has suffered. To use Alex’s words in 1x13 “You fight everyday to keep people from struggling like you have.” Notably also in 1x13, Kara wakes up from the Black Mercy and her first words are “Who did this to me?” and then she goes after Non in what could arguably be described as a homicidal rage-- a rage that is fueled entirely for personal reasons, not the greater good of Earth (though that comes as an added benefit), which is.... not very befitting the avatar of a benevolent god. 

     A major part of season 1 is Kara dealing with grief and rage. She nearly breaks a guy's arm in episode 6 because he screamed at her for damaging his car, to hell with the children he'd almost hit with it. In season 3's Midvale flashbacks we see her first put both hands through a lunch table, then attack Jake when she suspects him for Kenny's death. She gets better at controlling it as the seasons progress, but during Crisis she very nearly melts Lex. Also not particularly godly of her. 

     Then there is the fact that so much of who Kara is is shaped by fear: fear of the government, fear of humanity, fear of abandonment, and fear of herself. In her civilian life, Kara is, for the most part, unnoticeable. She's polite, soft-spoken, doesn't wear a lot of bold colors or styles, and is often a pushover. As shown by her encounter with Red Kryptonite, Kara would not dress or speak the same way to people without the pressure of hiding her identity (though much of her dialogue is purely the loss of her "don't be an asshole" filter, some of it is stuff she had every right to say before and just didn't). I have always found that episode to be very interesting purely for the fact that Kara doesn't actually seem to be seeking harm on others so much as seeking their attention. Her argument with Alex is almost entirely about how much she hates having to hide and pretend to be less than she is. Kara drops Cat off the balcony and then catches her. She attacks the police when they point weapons at her but doesn't kill or even hurt them that badly, instead of destroying the car they're using as shelter. Red-K removed her inhibitions, made her angrier, yes, but if her goal was to actually hurt people, she could have done so-- would have done so, and with great ease. She goes to a public bar and uses super strength to smash bottles by flicking peanuts. Why do that at a crowded bar? Why not just flick potato chips at the windows in her own apartment?

      This is Kara at her absolute worst-- but does she seek out the DEO agents who shot her out of the sky? Does she go after Maxwell Lord or Non? No. She tries to make people pay attention to her. Her most shameful and hideous desire is for people to give her respect. (Admittedly, respect gained through fear, but still.). Kara's a nice person-- much, much nicer than average-- but a lot of that "nice" is just her avoiding conflict to avoid attention.

      Kara is a good person. Kara inspires people. But that is because Kara gets up every day and chooses to be good and to inspire. It's one of the reasons I enjoy Non as a villain so much-- he and Astra are Kara's narrative foils. They also remember Krypton and grieve its loss. They also were trapped in the Phantom Zone. But where Kara had the Danvers to convince her that some good people existed and would risk themselves just to help others, Non and Astra had Alura sentencing them to eternal suffering rather than helping them save their planet (through the means they thought necessary) and then landed on Earth and found it headed on the same path as the planet they'd just lost. Kara had people to help her grieve. Non and Astra were surrounded by misery. They lost hope. Kara discovered it.

     Kara is the Paragon of Hope because she has been hopeless. Because she has suffered so much, seen so much, and because she chooses to believe in a better future. She didn't have hope her first time in the Phantom Zone. She didn't even have hope for a while on earth. From what we can gather, Kara's choice to start actually believing in the future was a gradual shift that occurred sometime after Kenny's death and has lasted her ever since. For Kara, hope is learned. She chose to hope and she won't let it go, and to assign that incredible victory off to her being a God is an insult to her growth and to her character. 

   Now I personally thought “The Faithful” handled this concept very well. 3x04 is one of my favorite episodes of television in general, let alone in Supergirl. Season 3 is my second favorite season, and that says a lot for its good episodes when the bad of season 3 is so, so very bad (To say nothing of the episode to episode production value, we have the waste of Argo, Mon El’s return as obviously he’s grown he has a beard Mon El, and whatever the hell was going on with Kryptonian genetic engineering eclipse causing witches). To this day I don’t know why Kara had magic dreams. The show did nothing to explain it and I can’t imagine up a reason. 

     But “The Faithful” works because it highlights the whole paragon part of who Kara is. When you realize that every person in the room of Coville’s cult is a person she has personally saved-- that hits hard. Especially since only a fraction of the people she’s saved would ever set foot inside that building with the totally not-creepy, entirely wholesome way they deliver the invitations. (“Your daughter is special. She has been chosen. As have you.”) It works because it focuses on how the average human must view Kara, the ones who don’t see her argue with her sister over potstickers and crush her phone when she gets mad. It works because of how desperately hard Kara tries to be a human. It works because the writers know that we, the audience, do not see Kara as anything but a regular person with irregular abilities: a kind and remarkably devoted person, but not a god. 

[harley-style]

DREAM SMP Swap AU

Dream = Wilbur : Dream comes into the server to help these two kids who are trying to stir shit up -- why not, right? He's got a fondness for chaos but also very protective and caring over his friends. VERY FOND OF TUBBO. To the point of.. well, brotherhood. Wilbur = Dream : He had a vision, to create a place where people could emancipate -- he's not above being the bad guy to keep that ideal in place. He's charming and self-confident and isn't afraid to use blackmail or get all up in your business. Has dirt on everyone but Dream. Constantly threatens secrets but subtle, yanno? Again, very charming, very persuasive.

Tubbo = Tommy : Still very sweet, but Big Crime often comes out to play more often than not. Also a huge trouble magnet, tried to start a...Honey smuggling empire? For some fucking reason, despite its innocent sounding plan, is a threat to Wilbur's land but no one has any idea why. Tommy = Tubbo : Tommy has an innate fucking fixation on music discs. He's got Cat and Mellohi personally. He dreams of starting up a music cafe/music area...? He and Dream get along swimmingly, Dream actually gifts Tommy a few music discs too, but also pins Tommy with the name discount Dave Strider.

Fundy = Eret : Was convinced earlier on by Wilbur to continue his 'legacy' and ideals. Fundy further grows into a neutral party, doing things only when it benefits him. Is the traitor from the first war. Eret = Fundy : Gets far too involved with stuff and the only way out is if he wiggles through the restraints on him. Yes that's metaphorical.

JSchlatt = Technoblade : Assists through uses of contracts and business deals. Like, hello, Tubbo's Honey smuggling business? He and Dream make an agreement, he supplies Dream and Tubbo with shit, and Dream does favors for Schlatt. Technoblade = Jschlatt : Anarchy lmfao. Was actually brought on by Wilbur in secret. Acted as a benefactor for Dream before turning around and causing chaos in the land Dream Tubbo and Tommy built. Blood for the blood god, only the strongest gets to the top kind of government. There's always fucking pitfights. Oops.

Philza = Callahan : Largely uninvolved in the events, mostly just there to supervise Wilbur, Tommy and Techno. Duh. Callahan = Philza : Has personal history with Dream, tries to convince him not to do the thing that could hurt everyone else. Minimally succeeds.

Alyssa = Niki : Ready to defend her home and her family. Niki = Alyssa : Neutral, but ready to back Wilbur up if need be.

Sapnap = Bad : Arsonist, goes around and burns shit whenever he wants to. His base is a Nether inspired fortress. Also, he has to deal with a Nether problem in reference to the Red Vine problem from the original SMP. Hotlands? LMFAO Bad = Sapnap : Helps when asked. Started out on Wilbur's side, as a favor, but slowly shifts neutral due to the conflict between factions.

Karl = Skeppy : Gets held hostage? That's what preoccupies Sapnap's time. He suddenly disappeears or gets trapped in a cell. Skeppy = Karl : Runs around doing supply runs. Gets his friends into various stints to try and settle the conflict through friendly rivalry and competition. It doesn't always work.

George = Ranboo : Unlike original Ranboo, George is highly unsympathetic and needs concrete fucking facts before he acts, and that kind of backfires on him in the end. As a favor to Dream (how many favors is Dream involved in honestly) he runs messages back and forth from Tubbo to Tommy. Ranboo = George : Largely uninvolved in the conflict, like Niki, but unlike OG George, is not absent. He's just there to assist. One of the most innocent and purest people on the SMP, knows when to keep his head down. When his house burns down, he doesn't really believe its Tubbo who did it -- he knows the kid has been framed because he'd been WITH him at the time, but Wilbur pressures him to admit it.

Quackity = Punz : Wilbur's loyal paid henchman. Quackity will cause shit for the appropriate price, he's not exceptionally picky. That stunt he did as Mexican Dream was great and everyone in L'Manberg loved it. Punz = Quackity : One of the best fighters under Techno. Has more morals, but keeps them secretly. Very good at hiding his true intentions/feelings.

(sorry about the other characters not being on here, i dont know them enough to make swaps, or dont know who they'd make a good swap with. Swap who you wanna swap though! i'd like to hear your take on this matter! HEADCANONS ACCEPTED TOO AT THIS POINT EVERYTHING HERE IS FROM WHAT I REMEMBER AND MY HEADCANONS)

PLOT

-Wilbur starts the SMP with Niki, slowly invites others like Ranboo, Tommy, and Tubbo.

-Tubbo expresses a desire to Fuck Shit Up and Tommy says they can get Dream, he's an expert at getting away.

-Dream is extremely protective of them both. Tubbo more than Tommy but that's fine because Tommy is largely independent.

-Tubbo gets in the weirdest shit but Tommy can roll with the punches really quickly.

-Wilbur gets tired of their crap and burns down Tubbo's establishment. It's like the Disc Wars except it's the Great Honey War. Bee War? Basically he's tired of Tubbo hogging all the Honey related expenditures.

-Dream gets the idea to make a honey smuggling empire, as a joke, but Tubbo is Big Crime and he's going with it. Tommy just wants chaos, and he was getting bored tbh.

-Eventually the Honey thing turns into Resource management, so Tubbo Dream and Tommy have a hold on all major supplies

-Shit happens and Dream, Tubbo, Tommy, Eret, Sam, Fundy and Alyssa establish an independent nation. Dunno what to call it bc the server is called the L'manberg SMP so....

-The fight for indepencence still happens. Instead of 'Green boy' Wilbur is named 'E-boy'. Dream still says "WE HAVE NO MERCY FOR YOU" when Wil calls for a ceasefire negotiation, but Wilbur does threaten the nation saying  "If there is no white flag by tomorrow, then you can kiss your sorry little arses good bye. That's my final warning."

-Turns out Fundy's been secretly funneling information to Wilbur in exchange for the safety of his friends, and also because Wilbur's his dad....uhm. Also! He and Dream are circling each other and others are like "OH MY GOD YOU GUYS ARE DEAD RINGERS FOR QUEERPLATONIC MATES JUST MARRY ALREADY" bc I like FundyWasTaken but others might not and its okay, we'll label it as platonic, but can be read otherwise depending on your tastes. But for this, it's very close platonic.

-Wilbur goads Tommy into a fight, as brothers do, but Tubbo steps in and Wilbur fucking jumps at the chance.

-This is the start of Dream's descent into madness. No one fucking threatens or pulls one of his friends like that. Denied. It's still subtle though, so he's okay for now.

-Tubbo and Wilbur face off. When Tubbo pulls back bc he genuinely doesn't want to hurt anyone, Wilbur takes the chance and beats him.

-Tubbo, however, makes a deal. Let their nation stand on its own, and he'll give up the Resource Empire he started. Wilbur accepts, with the condition that they unify their alliance with a...marriage? So basically, political marriage between Wilbur's heir, Fundy, and Dream, the leader of the revolution.

-YEAH I WENT THERE THIS IS VALID

-They're strained at first, but Dream and Fundy slowly mend their relationship post-betrayal.

-Fast forward a few months later. The Nation doesn't really have a leader, as per the agreement, but it does have a representative. All decisions are made via majority votes, and that decision is voiced by the rep and sub-rep, Dream and Tubbo respectively. Tommy's just there to have a good time and causes chaos as per usual.

-Enter Technoblade. He's been called in by Wilbur to...ah. Dismantle a little...nation. Sounds right up his alley. But he asks Wilbur to wait and see what happens.

-Tommy and Dream get the idea to hold a tournament to celebrate their independence, an all out brawl for everyone to kick back and relieve stress. There. That's where Techno comes in.

-He gets Punz to join him after like, being paid (ofc) and they fucking dominate the tournament. Dream's about to congratulate them but Techno turns the fuck around and declares his right to rule the nation. If anyone wants to fight him for the title, they're welcome to try.

-Dream loses another life to Techno trying and failing to fight it. He and a few others lost their first life sometime elsewhere? I guess? Probably by being blown up by Wilbur, idk.

-Tubbo and Dream are chased out by people who reluctantly follow Techno's orders, and Tommy, torn between his friends and his brothers, stays behind. Oh jeezus.

-Since Techno is a fighting GOD, no one's able to usurp him to make things turn back to normal. But Dream is smart, and knows Wilbur's 100% behind this. Fundy kind of knew but didn't do shit about it, which is why Dream rejects Fundy's offer of sanctuary. He can't be sure his husband will stay on his side, after all. It's nothing personal.

-Dream and Tubbo hide away somewhere, probably not a ravine but?? A mountain or something? They manage to get Sam away enough to ask him to build a super cool Redstone contraption thing that opens for them. ooooo.

-I'm not good at names but for the sake of jokes I'm gonna call their land the 'Bee's Knees' bc at some point Tubbo finds a fuckton of Hives hanging from Trees. Bee Mountain if Dream's feeling especially salty.

-SPEAKING OF DREAM. his insanity is on course now, it's slowly eating away at him and in fear of hurting Tubbo he's slowly distancing himself away. Tubbo's like what's wrong but Dream can't answer -- he doesn't know what's wrong with himself either.

-Tubbo and Dream need to go back and confront Techno, but they can't wait for long else Techno's going to obliterate everyone and their extra lives. They call Schlatt in.

-Schlatt's a pure business man and draws up a contract. He'll aid them in terms of supplies, but most of the revolution is on them. They agree.

-Tommy is actually really fucking good at lying and skirting around what he reveals to Dream and tubbo as a spy that Techno would have believed him if he didnt' know his brother. and Wilbur's warnings, of course. That results in Techno just being fucking done with Tommy's bullshit and plans his execution in another tournament? I guess?

-It doesn't go like the festival. First of all, Schlatt can't fight for shit, so why would Techno call him up the stage? No, Schlatt fights dirty. techno doesn't set much rules so theres no rule against poisoning Tommy quick and easy before the fight. Tommy loses another life and is on his last. Tubbo is spitting mad, but Schlatt points out that nothing in the contract covered this, so he's free to do as necessary. Tubbo is stopped by Dream who, at this point, is just overtaken by the need to one-up Techno.

-Also, Wilbur's been slowly persuading Dream to just. Let go. Let the monster inside of him free, he 'deserves it'. By the end of it all, Dream does. He snaps and lets loose the monster crying for blood inside him.

-Callahan is left to convince his old friend not to do it. In a moment of clarity, Dream stares on in horror of what he'd done. In his rage he managed to deplete ALL of Techno's lives (not really but shhhh), cause massive bloodshed, and terrified everyone in the process. He asks Callahan to kill him. Callahan does.

-Yes we'll get to Ghost Dream eventually.

-Anyway, Schlatt still does the Wither plan, because, uh, Drunken Rage. He was so stressed out from the ensuing conflict that he's like "LETS JUST FINISH THE REST OF YOU. THERE WILL BE NO CONFLICT IF YOU ARENT THERE TO FIGHT."

-and then he uses the line from the Lego movie on Tubbo like "Oh, Tubbster. It's nothing personal. It's just Business(tm)".

-Schlatt still dies of stroke. He does come back as a ghost though, that's one main difference.

-After everything's said and done, and the dust has settled, everyone decides to disband the nation, and just live their lives. like, they're done, wilbur, they get your point, jfc, let them rest.

-but uhhhh someone frames tubbo for setting fire to ranboo's (the server sweetheart) house. wilbur immediately decides to exile tubbo in 'anger'. acutally, he wants tommy and tubbo separated.

-tommy's not standing for it though, he fucking fights his way until wilbur threatens him and tubbo's like YES FINE OKAY I'LL AGREE TO BEING EXILED STOP THREATENING YOUR BROTHER

-tubbo's exile arc is not as sad as tommy's, but rather very tense because wilbur keeps riling tubbo up and taunting him. he still keeps contact with tommy though because they arent going to be separated just like that. no way. tubbo just gets a little more mad and gets short tempered like a lot.

-ranboo's not even that mad about it, he knows tubbo would never burn his house, there was a conspiracy on board and even if there wasn't he's like "arent yall overreacting its just a house, didnt you all do this like before the first war even began, what even (also, ranboo was WITH tubbo at the time of his house allegedly being set on fire. Not that he'll admit to it, because he and tubbo made that agreement long before)

-eventually he finds out that wilbur just wanted to pin the blame on tubbo to make him leave, and ranboo's like "IM DONE WITH YOUR CRAP WILLBUR STOP HURTING THE PEOPLE I CARE ABOUT" and leaves

-with the nation gone, people started to solidify their groups. sapnap and karl deal with their own thing, quackity still runs errands for wilbur, george is the main person ferrying messages from tubbo to tommy back and forth, etc.

-there's a funeral for dream, ofc, fundy arranged it. all of dream's shit was hidden because fundy doesnt want wilbur to get it.

-niki's still there managing her bakeshop but doubles as an informant for wilbur because she's well liked within the server

-ghost dream is present and he's a chaotic troll who mostly hangs around tommy. he's really hyper active and is always on the move, you can never catch him sitting still for like, 5 minutes

THAT"S ALL I HAVE FOR MY SMP SWAP AU PLEASE BE GENTLE I DONT HAVE TIME TO GET ALL THE FACTS STRAIGHT FROM THE OG SMP qwq

[skrltwtch]

Starving

Prompt: I work at the butcher shop and we've never spoken, but I recognise you from when you come in to buy fresh meat every month. I don't mind keeping the store open a little past closing since you're running late and seem kind of desperate. This may be weird to mention, but did you know your teeth are getting sharper while we talk? (Source in master list)

Word count: 2,782 words

Genre: Feels, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Someone had the bloody cheek to enter as I was getting ready to close up shop. Our opening hours were indicated on the door. The door. You couldn’t get any clearer than that. When did schools and parents stop teaching their charges not to enter business premises two minutes before closing time?

It was her.

I could make an exception this time, I suppose. She came in often enough and bought more than enough for me to consider her a regular. And she was a lovely person to deal with; I couldn’t say the same for a decent amount of my other regulars, whose business I accepted with gritted teeth.

‘I’m sorry. I know you’re closing soon. Just — please, I’ll take any cuts of meat you have left. I can pay extra for the trouble,’ she said.

Oh, God, what had I done to earn that kind of impression?

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine, thank you.’ Her pale skin and quivering form said otherwise. ‘I just — I just lost track of time at work. I got here as quickly as I could once I could leave the office. I’m really sorry.’

‘Don’t — it’s okay.’ I packed whatever I had left that would also match the typical volume of her purchases. From the corner of my eye, I saw her pacing up and down the shop, holding herself tightly. Every breath she made reached my ears. She wasn’t fine. Forget small talk then. Just like it wasn’t my business what she did with enough meat to feed a large animal in a day every month, it wasn’t my business why she looked close to falling over.

Maybe it was.

I called her over to the cashier, where approximately four kilogrammes of raw meat awaited her. Despite her stature, she never had any difficulties making it out of the shop with that much in tow. That might not be the case today. She was having a tough time simply getting her wallet out of her bag, and she looked absolutely sickly. Were those … were those tears in her eyes?

I really shouldn’t.

I really should.

‘Hey, are you alright? You don’t look too good,’ I said. Understatement: she appeared to be deteriorating by the second.

‘I’m fine,’ she insisted as she struggled with her wallet this time. I narrowed my eyes at her for a better look at what I thought I saw: her canines extending and swelling into fangs. A cross between a hiccup and a sob squeaked past her throat and into the open.

‘You can come back for payment tomorrow. I can help you with this to your car.’ No, it was now my social responsibility not to let her get behind the wheel. She was barely able to stand. ‘Or I can drop you off at your place … or somewhere nearby if you’re more comfortable with that.’

‘I’m fine,’ she growled.

Literally.

‘Shit, I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to.’

‘It’s … okay …?’ Sorry, my attention was hijacked by the sight of claws, honest-to-God claws, fucking splitting her fingernails open.

She left £100 on the counter and grabbed the parcels I made for her. ‘Please keep the change. You’ve been so kind. I can’t — I can’t come back here anymore.’

I wasn’t given a chance to question why she felt that way. Whatever was plaguing her — and scaring me a little, I had to admit — didn’t give her a chance either to make it out the door, as she’d collapsed not far from the counter. I had no idea how I could even let her walk out alone in the state she was in. I rushed to the phone. ‘I’m calling for help,’ I said.

She got to her hands and knees. That was … encouraging. I think. ‘No, please don’t. You need to go.’ Her voice was distorted and rumbly. Her blouse started to tear across her back, revealing a thin, but growing, layer of … hair. Fur, more like. Not so encouraging anymore.

‘I can’t leave you here alone. What is happening to you?’

She buried her face in her hands — or whatever they were becoming as they stretched and popped. Her feet burst out of her shoes, the same changes happening to them. ‘Don’t laugh.’

‘I promise.’ The rapid decline of her health from when she came in, the physical changes wracking her body, and the animalistic noises she was making drained what I was witnessing dry of any humour. I doubted there was any to begin with. I felt almost like I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to.

‘Werewolf. I’m a’ — a bark, involuntary, broke up her sentence — ‘werewolf.’

I went to her. Outside, the shades of violet and orange the sky had been awash with were muddling into a dark blue. I ducked my head a little to verify the shape of the moon tonight. None of the passers-by thought to look inside. At this point, I was more worried about someone else becoming privy to her secret than I was about the image of my shop. I didn’t understand how this was happening. It made sense and no sense at the same time.

‘You can stay in the storeroom tonight. You’ll be safe.’

She kept her head down. ‘Your boss? Okay?’ Her speech was strained.

‘I’m the boss of me.’ I knew my decision not to hire extra help would pay off someday. ‘Come on.’

‘Thank you.’

She stood up. I shifted my gaze elsewhere, as tempting as it was to see what a werewolf looked like mid-transformation. I showed her the way to the storeroom. It was due for a cleanup anyway. Her constant twitching and whining next to me didn’t go unnoticed. I took it to mean that she was controlling herself from either changing completely until I was out of her way or hurting me. I could be completely way off base, of course. The only piece of werewolf media I ever consumed was An American Werewolf in London (I was more of a zombie person myself), and … well, from what I’d seen tonight, the filmmakers got the transformation right, I’d say.

She took off what was left of her clothes once she was inside, and her transformation … accelerated. I closed the door to give her privacy — and to drown out the horrific noises. Nothing about the human body should produce what I was hearing. Things went quiet, eventually. I opened the door ever so slightly. ‘I’ll be here all night,’ I said despite not knowing whether she’d know what I was saying, ‘so you won’t be alone.’ I should be safe on this side of the door: the change had stripped her of opposable thumbs. The keyword was ‘should’.

The darkness coupled with her black fur made it impossible for me to see the creature she had become. Did I want to see? I still couldn’t shake off the feeling like I’d been some kind of voyeur; her appearance mattered naught to me, though I’d understand if she thought — she likely did — it would. Then she threw herself against the door, slamming both the actual thing and the door to my maiden glimpse at a real werewolf shut.

She loosed a howl that drove home the point that I had a werewolf in my storeroom. That I had been selling meat to a werewolf for her consumption. That the sweet, cheery petite lady who came in once a month was a werewolf. I wondered, then, if what she was like as a human carried over to her wolf self. If it did, I should be safe, right?

… There it was again: ‘should’.

I went back to what I was doing before what I knew about this world had been violently upended. I thanked God — should I? Did He or did He not exist? — that tomorrow was my day off. I was going to spend it with a good book and minimal to no human contact in the comfort of my living room. Now I was only interested in contemplating my place in the universe. What else was out there? Were any of the people walking past as I went to advertise the shop’s official closure for the day harbouring similar secrets as well?

Baleful whines transcended the door and filled the air. I picked up the parcels she’d dropped. Could she be hungry? It was worth a shot. I unwrapped one parcel. The closer I got to the storeroom, the more charged she got. I never dreamt I’d get to know the extent of damage a werewolf’s claws could do to a door in this lifetime. I threw the slab of meat as deep inside as I could. While she went to examine what it was that I’d left to her mercy, I turned on the lights to benefit us both.

What I got to see at last was ineffective in reeling in my disbelief. Where I’d left a quaking, infirm woman now stood a massive black wolf rending raw meat like paper. Despite looking almost indistinguishable from an ordinary wolf, there was an unsettling quality to her proportions and demeanour that made it hard for me to remember my manners and stop fucking staring. She was … beautifully horrifying and frighteningly stunning all at once. In some sick, twisted way, it made sense that something like her — something like what she’d become — couldn’t have come about naturally.

She turned to look at me, her jaw dripping with blood and her tail … wagging.

I regained control of my senses quickly enough to leave. The slamming of the door failed to mute her whimper at — missing out on her chance at a tasty human? Being alone in the storeroom again? Best I didn’t read too much into it. I fed her the rest of the meat she bought. She refused to eat the last piece, yet she wailed when I left her be.

‘I don’t think I’d taste very good. I’m lean and stringy,’ I said through the crack in the door. ‘And bland, like most English food.’

I didn’t know what to make of the bark that followed my attempt at a witticism.

I felt bad for her. Wolves were social animals, weren’t they? Then again, who’d feel bad for me upon discovering my mutilated body in my shop? No one had attempted to romanticise werewolves like the likes of Anne Rice and the Twilight author had done with vampires, and probably with good reason, as I willed myself to remember how she, a soft-spoken woman an hour ago, devoured almost four kilogrammes of meat in record time. The ending of An American Werewolf in London wasn’t a happy one, for God’s sake! (Maybe I should stop invoking God’s name for now.)

‘Can you understand me?’ I said. ‘Bark … um, bark twice for yes’, so it wouldn’t be a coincidence.

And she did.

Well, fuck me.

I sighed. ‘Are you … are you lonely? Bark twice for yes.’

Silence.

For the longest time, until she barked again, softly, mournfulness plain to hear in the two notes.

✦✧✦✧

My back! G— fuck, my back. How the fuck did I sleep last night?

Right. I slept in a chair outside the storeroom.

I stretched to get rid of the kinks in my back. Yeah, that was it. That was the spot. No, that one. That other one was definitely it. Relief — sweet, glorious relief. How the hell did I even fall asleep in a chair anyway?

‘Hey, you’re awake.’

I turned to the direction of the voice that had no reason to be here at this time of day. Or at all. No one was allowed here but me. Why was I in the shop? Wasn’t today my day off? What happened last night? Why, of all things instead, did I remember not to use God’s name as a synonym for ‘fuck’? I also didn’t remember finding religion last night. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I needed water.

I focused my eyes on the figure in front of me.

It was her.

Oh.

Oh.

‘Yeah, I am now.’ Without a doubt. ‘How are you?’

She declined my offer to have my seat. My legs demanded that I continue standing to get the blood flowing. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. I could believe her this time. She was wearing one of my aprons over the tattered remnants of her clothes. ‘Thank you for … um.’ Her pause made me think her admission last night was the first time she said those words out loud to someone else. ‘Thank you.’

‘It was nothing. You looked … really sick yesterday’: I took a leaf out of her book

She smiled. ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to be polite. I know what I am.’ Her words were shaded with the same tint of sadness as when she confided in me about her loneliness.

‘No. You — the wolf — you were …’ Tame? She wasn’t an animal. She was … ‘You didn’t hurt — I’m fine.’ I held up both my hands to show her the absence of any marks, and she could very well see I wasn’t missing any limbs. ‘I’m fine,’ I repeated, ‘except for this sudden bout of scrambled egg for brains, but in my defence (or not), this is how I am a fair bit of the time. Who put me in charge of a meat slicer?’

‘You’re very kind. And cute,’ I thought I heard her say under her breath. ‘Thank you. How can I repay you for last night?’

‘You don’t have to. The meat’s on the house, too.’ Nothing to do with what I thought she said. ‘I’ll return you your £100 on the way out.’

‘No. Please. I could’ve done something bad to you.’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘Please. There has to be something I can do for you. I’d feel terrible otherwise.’

I truly wanted nothing from her. I survived a night with a werewolf. That by itself was a fantastic reward. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Well …

‘Were you serious about not coming to my shop anymore?’

‘I … if that’s what you want, I can go elsewhere. If you’re going to tell the other butchers not to sell to me because of what I am, that’s okay, too. I’ll figure something out.’

‘No. G— shit. That’s awful. I’m not —’ Why did she always jump to the worst conclusions about me? ‘No, promise me you’ll come back to my shop. That’s all I ask. And … your name. You’ve been coming here for years, and I don’t even know your name.’ I knew some of my customers’ names — and not necessarily the ones that mattered. Like her. ‘It’s not about the business I get from you, by the way. I don’t care what you are. I don’t know why you are what you are, and I have so many questions, but I do know it’s none of my business. I won’t judge.’

She nodded. ‘Thank you. I promise. I’ll come back. I’ll come back when it’s not the full moon and I didn’t skip lunch because I was too busy with work. And my name’s Eloise.’

‘I’m George.’

‘It’s lovely to meet you, George. Now you know why I buy so much meat on one day of every month. You’re the only person who knows what I am.’

‘I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.’

‘Thank you. I know I’ve said that a lot of times already, but I mean each and every one of them.’ Her eyes roved around the space. ‘I should go now. I have work in a couple of hours at best … or I’m late at worst. And you probably need to get ready, too. You should be opening soon … or I’ve made you late. It’s on your door.’

‘I have the day off today. Great timing, huh? Are you sure you’re good to drive?’

‘Yes, I can definitely manage much better today than I would’ve have yesterday. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just so hungry …’ She shook her head, expelling a breath signalling disapproval. ‘I’ll return this’ — she yanked at an apron strap — ‘to you tomorrow as well.’

‘Actually … one more thing. So we’re really even.’

‘Yes?’

‘Would you perhaps like to meet for coffee later, please?’ I could only navel-gaze for so long.

She looked taken aback. That and her response, articulated in three softly spoken words — ‘I’d love to’, led me to believe that what she was like as a human did indeed carry over to her wolf self.

[touchmycoat]

blackwater arc reread: notes

okayo kayokayaokay

so several hundred years ago, baby qingxuan was born, and the White Thing was like, “you’re cursed!” the only way free of this super powerful Shit is if qingxuan becomes a god

shi wudu not only managed to find one person born in the exact same minute/hour as sqx, but also someone with the Xuan character in his name, and swaps the fates of sqx and hx

hx’s life falls apart and he loses everyone he loves to miserable deaths

sqx continues to be a golden child, and ascends to godlihood

the White THing haunts hx, but according to xie lian’s estimation, never really gets a meal from hx, ‘cause hx is just that steady, that hardcore—until the Confrontation with the White Thing, during which hx goes absolutely batshit, kills all the horrible people within reach, dies of his own power flipflop shit, and then turns around and swallows the white thing to boot

he’s so damn powerful he goes on to make it through Tonglu Mountain and become a Calamity

through swallowing the White Thing he learns the truth about the Shi brothers?

so as the Earth Master, the true Ming Yi is ascending, HX nabs that poor fucker, and takes his identity, and keeps him imprisoned to torture and extract information from

hx lives life as ming yi, hooks up with hua cheng somewhere along the way, and the two share singular purposes as they infiltrate heaven

sqx becomes determined to befriend hx

hx does not shy away from turning him down, but is, by xie lian’s later exposition (with pressing open his own wound to trigger the amulet), such an upstanding soul anyways that sqx is very, very determined to befriend him

all this while, hx is bidding his time. His goal is utter ruination for the brothers that destroyed his life, so he picks the time of swd’s third 天劫

he’s also been collecting live humans with miserable, miserable lives at his mansion

there are two possible outcomes he wants: 1) get a taste of your own medicine, sqx. you took a life that was not meant for you, now you’ll live among the most wretched.

(That outcome can only be realized by swd’s hands—so there’s a test for swd here as well, or more a taunt. Even when your little brother is desperate to repent in some kind of way, for both of you to survive, can you do it? Can you be the catalyst for giving sqx a life of suffering?)

2) go fuck yourself, swd. you can either make your baby brother miserable by giving him a wretched fate or make your baby brother miserable by making him responsible for your death. And sqx will live. He’s lived this long in blissful ignorance, hx will make sure he lives further in the most agonizing knowledge.

(This outcome wants sqx to stop choosing his brother.)

so he’s been collecting bad fates toward that end.

not long after xie lian’s third ascension, the real ming yi breaks out once and for all, sending up a help signal. hc and hx have an agreement, so hc goes to cover for hx, pretending like hx’s been undercover in his shit for years.

this is also when the real ming yi dies. hx puts the bones in his own mansion ‘cause where else can you put it.

(hc would drag hx to hell for his shit taste in interior decor)

The day hx enacts the plan, and has the White THing haunting sqx again, sqx tosses a wrench in his works by going to xie lian. Otherwise, hx probably just planned on scaring sqx a little (okay a lot), break his mind a little (a lot), and then take away sqx’s powers. Send him back to swd armed with the truth of what his brother’s done and see what sqx chooses.

(Over and over and over again, hx wants sqx to stop choosing swd.)

But. Okay. Xie Lian tags along. So hx puts his plan into motion, but has to keep swerving. Hence all the hide-and-seek, all the misdirection, all the gradual realizations in the black water arc.

He tries to ditch xl in the festival people, but surprise! xl can take over sqx’s body, and beats up hx’s kagebunshin no jitsu

(hc gets REAL mad at hx about this, which is frankly hilarious ‘cause hx is just like. “?!?!?!?! YOUR babe’s the one messing with OUR pl—” and hc’s like “shut UP dianxia does no wrong this is YOUR problem bITCH”)

hx goes to save sqx after swd has sqx tied up but surprise! xl is there again. they get to the rain master’s to hide. pm takes sqx to go see swd, and sqx agrees.

which hx takes as a confirmation of sqx’s complicity

but xl gets dragged along yet again, with hc’s insistent company. at blackwaters hx does his best to separate the group, taking the most important sqx. but fucking swd meets up with xl and they end up in the mansion together

so hx fakes being poisoned so he can send everybody away. hc helps him out.

so hualian are back at puji shrine. xie lian has everything pretty much pieced together, and so nyooms back into sqx’s body in a last ditch attempt to help.

he witnesses the entire shit show

hx is such a specific man, with such specific grievances. he wants vengeance. it’s hard to say whether this vengeance is proportional or not because what happened to him was so fucking disproportionate. he knows the main culprit is swd, and wants him brought down, wants him torn from his godly status. He succeeds in this by failing swd at his third 天劫, then basically going “I’ll tell everyone what you did”

sqx is more complicated. sqx is ignorant, but is the furthest thing from innocent.

but sqx knows it too. between the two brothers, he’s the one reacting with the most compassion. He acknowledges the horror of what’s been done, and knows there really isn’t anything he can say. He’s not here to beg for mercy, he doesn’t have the right.

hx asks if he’d die then

he says yes, but probably knows at this point that’s not something hx even particularly wants

sure enough the choices were put to them

sqx would’ve so very gladly chosen the fate switch. yeah, it’d suck, but honestly he knows it’s the least he deserves. god this is fucked. He’s been reaping the benefits of someone else’s ruined life all this time and he doesn’t even know how to begin making up for it. but hx gave them options! This is fine!

but swd wouldn’t take it. to his last breath swd is a stubborn prideful motherfucker, and refuses to let everything fall the way hx wants. so he’s determined to blast a third option onto the table—his own death, but not at sqx’s hands. and no fate switch either, if he’s relatively confident he’s the only one who can do it.

(swd would only die like that if he’s decently confident of hx’s character? if he saw through to hx’s bottom line in the options hx presented them—that hx’s not some mad fuck out for any desperate shred of revenge, but actually never once wants sqx dead. But, well, maybe swd just measured everything up and saw that if he lived for any longer, he’d only serve to bring further pain to himself and sqx.)

(sqx must be so fucking pissed swd wouldn’t let them choose the first option though)

so we get these through-lines of CHOICE. Isn’t it so fucking brilliant that SWD, with all his love for SQX, never once gave SQX a choice that matters, and HX’s pivotal introduction to SQX’s life is a choice. A choice that SQX made, by the way. I really do think that counts for something, and HX knows it.

IMPORTANT MOMENTS:

SQX calling the wrong name—symbolizing his ignorance. Not knowing is complicity too, when you’re the beneficiary.

“Do you have anything you want to say to me?”—this is the first thing HX offers SQX after SWD’s death. why?

[spookyspaghettisundae]

What Wretches Call the Law

The chains squeaked and creaked, and I startled awake.

They always made that dreadful sound whenever I moved, whenever the wind blew. It was driving me insane. It was not like sleep came easy for me anymore.

My feet ached. Everything hurt. The iron bars dug into my back as I sat there, with my legs so close to me that I could have held my ears shut with my knees. So uncomfortable.

But I only had two options left. Standing up until almost everything hurt or sitting like this until everything else hurt. I had given out hope of ever experiencing anything but this persistent pain. But I had yet to come to terms with my end.

The bastards left me out here to die. On display for all to see.

Did not even have the decency to hang me first, or quarter me, or whatever else the sick coxcombs come up with next.

Maybe I could have spent more time in pondering where it all went wrong, but I had stopped seeing the point in that. Somewhere in between shouting profanities into the night until I went hoarse, mulling over all the little things I came to regret in life, and sobbing while I pleaded for my freedom, every single peep from my parched throat falling upon deaf ears.

Nobody ever answered.

Only the damned metal chain links squeaked.

So, there I was, hanging inside this inhumanly narrow cage. They called it a "gibbet". Love how they always found the time to come up with fancy names and forms for shit like this. All their riches and all their reading and faith and books, and this is what they filled their lives with.

Rotten inbred scum.

Their twisted sense of justice in putting me here, leaving me here—there was nothing just about it. They were deranged. Their sadistic pleasure in seeing my plight spoke volumes of their madness. The way the crowds gasped, and laughed, and cheered whenever they watched public executions.

I knew. I had been of them, too. At some point.

And all the while, every single one of them would have done the same in my place.

I knew because that was where I had gone.

As well as all the louts who stopped by the crossroads to look upon me there. To point, to talk ill about me, to tell their children that this was why they had to eat their supper and go to sleep and obey whatever they were told.

All cowards. Cowards who either loved to crush the peasants beneath their heel and mock me as they rode by on fancy horses, or cowards who feared the thought of ending up in my place if they helped me or even just dared to question this disgusting injustice.

Little walking piles of shit, all of them.

Even that little girl.

My thoughts had boiled down to these two extremes. Crushing remorse over mistakes I had made, and seething anger towards my captors.

Light and dark.

My skin had begun to peel from all the exposure to bouts of the sun burning down on me, while the cold and gloom of cloudy skies was something I had come to appreciate. Rain remained absent, as if God and heavens had decided to mock me like all the other cowards down here.

Day and night.

That was how my thoughts kept circling, cycling. I had no way of telling what time of day it was, or how long I had been left here.

Left to die miserably. For all to see.

Just like I had lost track of the passage of days and nights, I drifted in and out of uneasy slumber.

Squeak.

Fucking iron. Woke me up again.

There she was. Again.

The little girl.

No ten winters old, I guessed. Filthy, ratty, just like the rest of us who lived their lives in squalor. I began to wonder if she had even had a home where she took the food from, or if she was an orphan who nabbed these bits from townsfolk that pitied her. I wondered if she, too, one day, would end up like me.

Or if one of those bastards would take her life and get stuck in a cage to die, too.

Or if she would just be another one of the sorry souls, trampled underfoot by those rat bastards.

She held up a piece of soggy bread, offering it to me.

The first few times she had brought me any food, I always greedily gobbled it up. But in the beginning, I had held hopes of escaping. I ate only when I still dreamt of getting out from this fucking cage somehow, of getting my revenge.

Now, I would have spat on the little girl out of spite, but I did not want to spare any more spittle from my chapped lips. My mouth felt like sand.

I did not know how much longer I had, but another damned day in this damnable cage was a day too long to suffer through.

I shook my head at her, and she continued to stare at me through those big, wide eyes. Like staring at a doe in the woods, and the doe staring back. Curious and fearful. Frozen as I was, ready to bolt.

Like she knew what I had done but was entranced by it. Or she had no idea and did not understand why I was here. Or maybe the little witch was possessed by a demon who took pleasure in my torment.

At first, I welcomed the morsels she brought me. Usually bread, an onion here, even a chunk of cheese there. At first, I had still mistakenly believed I was getting out of this gibbet alive.

Now, I cursed her misguided pity. I cursed her with every bit of God's body. Anything she gave me only prolonged my suffering. Prolonged my captivity here, not only in this cage—but in this flesh.

I was too weak to do anything, too weak to speak back at people who insulted me whenever they passed my cage anymore. Too weak to hurl back profanities at those who mocked me, or threw rocks, or flung mud and dung pies. I reacted plentifully in the beginning. Colorfully. Sometimes pleaded, even.

But if there was one thing that the Lord had failed to teach us all, I guess it was showing mercy. This I now knew, taking root deep inside my bones.

The little girl shook the piece of bread, emphasizing how she wanted me to take it and eat it.

I guess if I had learned the lesson of mercy myself, I would have had to give the little brat the benefit of the doubt—that she pitied me, and shared food with me, thinking it was just the right thing to do.

That part won out. For now.

I shook my head again. She finally stopped holding out the chunk of bread. Turned around and left.

She always looked over her shoulder back at me when she went away, like I might finally climb out of my cage and follow her. She always showed up alone, no other people in sight. Vanished back into the hills, not taking the muddy roads where my cage swayed drearily in the wind.

Her presence portended something slightly unreal. Part of why I wondered if she was not some devil.

But none of that mattered. I just wanted it to end. All of it.

Not only my own life. I wanted the world to end. I wanted to see it burn, and to hear the screams of people suffering in ways undreamed of.

I wished ill upon all who had wronged me. And as far as I was concerned, here, hanging in this cage and dying slowly like a wretch—the whole damned world was guilty of wronging me.

I had lied, stolen, and slain. I cannot say that I did any of that for good reason. Sometimes I did it for fun. Often, I did it for my own survival and more often for my own gain, reckless of the cost upon others.

But how else was I supposed to live?

Not just survive.

Live.

Was I supposed to work the fields until my bones were bare and my feet bloody? To accept my place in life? Watch as others lived high and mighty, looking down upon us from their grandiose castles, taking from us because of the blood and loins they were born of? Leave alone all the things they have and do not need, so many that only the Lord almighty can keep an eye on it all and they need more servants to watch what they believe is theirs?

Craven toads.

Of course, I would steal from them. Of course, I would take their rotten children for ransom, and kill one of them when it came to saving my own hide. If those liver-eaters could get fat on the food we decked their tables with, then they certainly could fuck whomever they wanted to, to spawn more of their little rat-fucking offspring to continue their awful legacy.

Cowards. They would have done the exact same in my position. Any of you who want to tell otherwise, why are you lying to yourselves?

The only difference between them and us was the golden spoon that fed them from cradle to grave.

For when they stole, raped, and murdered, it was just. When we did as the example they led with, it was crime.

I regretted none of that. Think of me as a terrible creature, and I will not argue with you. That is not my place. Think of me as a terrible monster, that I have come to embrace.

As I awaited Death to greet me, sitting in my hanging cage, I only felt the occasional pangs of remorse over other things. My things.

The time I watched as the other children bullied a friend, and I joined in on it with them. How I should have done something. I could tell that he never looked at me the same away again ever after. And here, of all places, I wondered what became of him. Would he throw the first dung pie if he had the opportunity?

The time I broke a friend's nose in anger, and we never spoke again afterwards. I had overreacted, and he never deserved that. His wrathful gaze and bloodied face, I will never forget. I wondered if he still loathed me, wherever he wandered now. If he even walked this earth anymore.

And the time I made my darling cry, and never saw her again but doors closed on my face, angry shouts muffled by the wood. Owed to mistakes I had made all on my own, with nobody else to blame. Though I would never apologize for where I wandered in my life before and after, I would never strike her again. Those eyes, so filled with accusation, so cold and unforgiving for all the times I had wronged her, I had learned from those mistakes and would nary repeat them.

My sadness stemmed from those moments and filled my quiet loneliness now, thoughts I had not afforded much space until I had wound up stuck in this cage where I would die.

I was not a good person, and never would be. The longer I lingered here, the closer Death crept to my tiny prison, the smaller that remorse shrank. The shorter the bouts of sadness.

With this justice? This mockery of justice?

No. By now, I felt only anger. I had no more energy for it to burn bright like a flame.

All that was left of it was something seething and cold and almost sinister.

Oh, the things I imagined doing to people now as my last moments waned, and I drifted in and out of depraved dreams thereof.

Squeak.

Fucking iron.

Night had fallen, and I struggled to stand again, finally relieving my back of the pressure from the cage's bars. Within minutes of standing in the gibbet, my feet began to ache.

My stomach had long stopped growling. Funny, that. Never realized that it only growled after I had eaten. Now, that I had gone without nourishment for God-only-knew-how-long, all that my belly had become was a pit from which sharp spikes of pain shot out every now and again, stabbing at my insides to remind me of my coming demise.

I gripped the bars of my cage. And that was that.

No longer did I try to bend them, no longer did I possess any strength to even dare dreaming of such folly.

Death awaited me.

The shadows in the mist between the hillocks, they sometimes took the shape of people. Like the silhouette of a person. Standing still. Watching from afar.

Death.

When I came to next, it was gloomy again, light out.

I hated everything. Everyone.

A horse carried a nobleman down the crossroad. Hooves kicked up muck and the bastard turned his nose up to look down at me as he passed by. Pure disdain and disgust, judging by the lop-sided sneer across his visage.

Never seen him before but would have murdered him in a heartbeat over some food. Especially now. Or—my freedom, rather. Food only meant further torment, I reckoned.

Food without freedom only meant that Death took his time. Took longer to finally approach me.

The lousy nobleman in his bright and colorful cloth offered no prolonged stare, ignored me on his ride, gaining distance quickly. Had somewhere more important to be. Had others to gossip with, and perhaps speak derisively of me.

Now swallowed by the fog.

Squeak.

Next, I remembered, I was sitting again. My back no longer hurt. My eyes did not open.

Yet I saw.

I saw everything from here. Floating beside myself, studying the husk of my former being. Oh, how pathetic I looked. I wondered how many days lay in wait between my passing and my body turning into a skeleton. Knowing the scoundrels who had done this to me, I knew they would leave it there as a reminder.

Do not cross the crown, or you shall find yourself in the gibbet, just like me.

But my body was not alone as I hovered there.

There was that girl again. She could see me—not in my new form—thus she held up some bread to my body. Then she lowered her hand, seeing that my sorry carcass offered her no reaction. The deathly, vacant stare in my hollow eyes. The crows already cawed in the distance, hungry to pick the jelly from my skull.

The shadow of Death had long come and gone. But in sending only his shadow, so did I remain, a shadow of my former self.

My time in this flesh had passed.

But I now understood the potential. Felt something when I should have felt nothing anymore.

A thirst to dwell longer and unleash my wrath. All I needed was a way back.

That spark of curiosity. That open little mind of hers.

I could taste it. I could touch it.

And she could not see my shadow, growing as the sun set, crawling across the dirt, and reaching out like dark thorns.

I took control. I entered her head and took over. Saw through those big wide eyes. Studied my tiny little hands and wondered what I could possibly do with them. Wondered next if I could take another body, bigger and stronger than hers.

She still had all her teeth. Soon I knew her every memory.

Had I known this possibility, perhaps I would have welcomed Death sooner.

And without a body to tether me any longer, I would have my revenge.

I would make them pay.

All of them.

Now, I know you look at me in disbelief. I have seen so many faces like yours before.

How can this be?

Well—kill me. Cut me down. End my life and find out if my yarn is but a strange tale. I dare thee.

But when I return to haunt, I will remind you. No matter the face. I will admit that I lie, I steal, and I murder, like anybody else. Even if man gives me no right to. And whatever justice you think there is, it is an illusion. Justice serves only the strong and the wicked.

I will wear another face, and I will speak, with pride, "The flesh is a cage, and I am here to free thee from it." I will remind you of this tale as you weep and beg for mercy, and you will know for certain.

There is only what wretches call the law.

And then there is me.

—Submitted by Wratts

[serendipitywrites]

Unrequited?

childhood friends with benefits or perhaps more?

words 2,008 smut, slight angst so far 🔞 (hope you enjoy! this is my first time uploading smut.)

According to everyone else, you and Mingi are good friends, just good friends. They didn’t need to know anything else, even if sometimes your glances told them otherwise… it’s just that Mingi had a bit of a reputation for awhile now and honestly, even if it didn’t bother you, it bothered a lot of other people. He dated… a lot, well, if you can call it ‘dating’. Either way, you’ll always love him, platonically of course. 

You two decided to show up together at the first gathering of the summer. It felt like you and all your friends went to different colleges, had crazy busy jobs, or just moved away, so having everyone back always resulted in a party, nothing crazy, but it was always special. It felt like tradition. And god, you’d been missing them all, even more so Yunho. You’ve always had a bit of a deeper bond with Mingi and Yunho. even if you absolutely loved and cherished the others so very much, it was slightly deeper with them. 

Mingi went to the same college as you so you could see him more often than the others, but Yunho lived a couple of hours away because he’s been interning at his dads sales company. It felt like your ball of sunshine was turning into a business man.

Finally, you and Yunho were able to visit and catch up during the party, after playing beer pong with Jongho, you were tired from playing for so long, him being so competitive. 

you rested on the couch, your legs on Yunhos lap while he was excitedly telling you all about how his internship was going and all of his coworkers while resting his hands on your legs. You’ve always loved how affectionate he is and ate up whatever attention he gave you, it was normal for you two to be so close. no one looked twice or really cared about the skinship.

Well, except Mingi. 

Which is why he made some excuse to drag you upstairs in a hurry, something along the lines of ‘girl troubles’ which was actually true, he just never had any of that ‘trouble’ with you, since you were the one that was always there, long before he even had his first girlfriend. The rest of them just looked at their friend with an amused look on their faces.

Yunho of course just whines playfully as you leave for upstairs but lets you go. 

Which is how you ended up where you are now..

‘Fuck’ Mingi moans and grinds into you, the denim of his jeans rubbing roughly against your bare ass, your skirt hiked up to your waist, kneeling on all fours in a bathroom with rough tiles digging into your knees and palms. Classy, you think to yourself. 

You grind back onto him roughly and he grips your hips roughly in response. 

music echoes loudly outside the room, the party still going downstairs.

‘Mingi, hurry. We’re in a dirty ass bathroom’ you complain and push yourself against his clothed bulge, hoping he gets the message. He just chuckles at you ‘always so impatient’ the next thing you hear is him unbuckling his belt. Anticipation shudders through you, you can’t help but whine with need and wiggle your hips. Eventually, he pulls his briefs down and places the tip of his raw cock on your wet cunt, he teases it from your hole to your clit and your entire body tingles in need.

‘That shut you up, huh?’ his voice deep and laced with possession. as much as you want to respond all snarkily, you’re completely at this man’s mercy. ‘Please..’ you mumble through a moan. He must take mercy on you because not even a second later he is fully sheathed inside of you. Your wet heat sucking him in, already dripping off of him in excess. You moan so loudly that Mingi snorts behind you. ‘Really? That desperate?’ he smacks your ass and you feel yourself trembling, trying to keep from falling. No matter who you are with, no one compares to Mingi, and that includes your exes. It’s something you’ve known for years but try not too think too deeply into it, because honestly, it’s just sexual chemistry.

‘Just fuck me already.’ you sass, pushing yourself back on him. It must work because you feel him bruising your hips already, fucking you hard against the floor. you fucking love it. Mingi pauses for a minute and you panic, but calm once you feel his bare chest against your back, you get the full scent of his cologne and slight sweat that moment as well, suddenly you feel pride and nearly smug in how you were the one to make this man who has been with so many others, such a mess already. 

‘More please’ you whimper again in desperation ‘yes, princess’ he says, with less of a fight. He must be getting close. You’d say something if he wasn’t fucking you so hard that you had to struggle just to keep from falling over on the dirty floor, but it’s not like you both had the luxury of taking your time at the moment. Inside the bathroom, the loud smack of his hips against the fat of your ass and the wetness of your pussy sounds absolutely obscene. ‘How are you always so tight?’ he moans. you get even wetter, making a mess of Hongjoongs’ parents bathroom (sorry Joong~). He starts fucking into you even harder and you feel yourself also inching closer and closer to your peak. You both feel lost in the moment, delirious with your need to make one another cum. Your moaning loudly but trying to cover your mouth to muffle yourself, you know Mingi would usually complain but he also knows that you both need to be careful, careful to not mess with your group of friends dynamic, since that’s what matters most. 

He’s grinding inside of you, reaching places you or anyone else course never could. ‘Can I cum inside you?’ he asks breathily and with hope and his pace is beginning to stutter. As much as everything inside of you wants to say yes, you knew it would be a mess and you’ve both already been away for too long. ‘Not tonight, Gi’ he whines, disappointed, but keeps going. he shifts his grip and roughly turns you over so he can reach your clit, his long fingers rubbing quick circles into you, while he slips his thumb inside of you along with his dick. You’re so close already you’re about to cry. After another minute or so of him unrelentingly teasing your clit, you’re gasping and coming all over his cock. He’s still chasing his high, and with no time to come down, you’re feeling overly stimulated. ‘Did so good’ he praises you sweetly and sounding so spent. Your body is limp against his, him controlling the pace. He’s close, you can always tell. Suddenly he pulls out of you and you hear him groan and finish himself, his cum hitting your pussy. He pants, sweat dripping from his forehead. He lets out a goofy smile from up above you. ‘I guess I needed that’ he reaches for some toilet paper and gently wipes his cum from your skin. ‘Jesus, Gi. you couldn’t have waited till one of us left?’ you say, exhaustion in your voice. You realize you’re still laying on the floor when he grabs your hands to help you up. ‘Thanks’ you pull your skirt back into place and put your shirt back on. Thankfully, he didn’t take off your bra and toss it somewhere. It’s a bit awkward, you fixing your hair and attempting to look like you didn’t just have sex, let alone with all of your friends downstairs. Mingi already has his shirt back on and his hair looks just as good as it did, the only difference is that his cheeks are slightly flushed and sweaty. Fuck this man and his attractiveness. 

‘I’m gonna head back down, you good?’ he asks while fixing his hair again in the mirror. 

‘I’ll be down there in a few’ you reply. He comes to stand next to you in the mirror ‘yeah, you need a few. My bad’ he says cockily. you punch his shoulder ‘don’t flatter yourself. I’ll be a minute’ you snort. So, of course, he leaves the bathroom like nothing happened, because according to the rest of the party, nothing did. 

Once you deem yourself presentable you head downstairs. Yeosang greets you at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Need a drink?’ he quirks an eyebrow. You hope he doesn’t notice your clothes in slight disarray. Then again, who would believe that you would be hooking up with Mingi, out of all people. 

You smile tiredly ‘so badly’ he giggles ‘i’ll be back with wine. There should be some in the kitchen somewhere, Not everyone enjoys shitty beer’ he says and heads to the kitchen.

You appreciate him, truly. Also, you hated beer and he knew that.

You notice that Yunho is still on the couch, drinking a beer. You decide to sit next to him again. He looks a bit lost in his thoughts and doesn’t notice you until you nudge your head against his shoulder ‘Tired already? I guess you are a working man now’ you gently poke his side, he in response smiles his bright and sunshine like smile. ‘Yeah, I think so. Just a long drive up here.’ he actually does look tired and it doesn’t sit well with you. ‘Want me to stay over? We can have a sleepover in the guest bedroom’ you rest your head on his shoulder, just wanting to spend more with him, knowing he will be leaving in a couple of days. ‘Yeah, I’d like that. Hwa is rooming with San and Wooyoung tonight, so you lucked out’ you both laugh softly. 

Yunho is staring past you, an amused look on his face.

‘How did Mingi find someone already?’ you turn around curiously and see Mingi talking to some girl in a tight pink dress… which, who even invited her? He has his hand on the small of her back and his dimples are showing. He couldn’t make it more obvious that your quick fuck in the bathroom meant nothing to him. You’re angry at yourself for caring, you truly are, but your only condition with Mingi was that he only see you when he wasn’t seeing others that same night. 

You didn’t know how hard you were staring until Yunho waves his hand in front of you ‘You good, y/n?’ you snap out of it instantly ‘yeah, sorry. I’ve just never seen her around before’

‘Ahh, she’s a friend of Hongjoongs brother. She just started university here’ he explains.

You nod and quickly look at them again before turning back to Yunho. ‘So, Yeosang is getting some wine, I’ll have him bring it to the guest room, maybe we can start a movie, all three of us?’ you say excitedly. ‘I’ll grab us some comforters’ Yunho says happily and with a smile. Soon, Yeosang heads back with the wine and you’re all heading upstairs to chill when Yeosang turns to you, a certain look on his face ‘y/n, your skirt is almost backwards’ you panic for a slight moment ‘i guess I messed it up using the restroom?’ Yeosang pretends to understand fully but still teases you over being messy. As you are heading upstairs again, you meet Mingis eyes and he just smirks at you, the girl still by his side.

Fucking smirks. Seriously? Yunho just grabs you and pulls you next to him, confused as to why you stopped.

You give your full attention back to Yunho and just ignore Mingi being a dick.

Eventually you find yourself about to fall asleep with the other two in sleeping bags next to you. Somehow your brain goes to thinking Mingi and that girl,

God, why do you even like him again? I mean, platonically of course. 

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

11th October >> Mass Readings (USA)

Tuesday, Twenty Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

   or

Pope Saint John XXIII.

Tuesday, Twenty Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green)

First Reading

Galatians 5:1-6

Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love.

Brothers and sisters: For freedom Christ set us free; so stand firm and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery.

  It is I, Paul, who am telling you that if you have yourselves circumcised, Christ will be of no benefit to you. Once again I declare to every man who has himself circumcised that he is bound to observe the entire law. You are separated from Christ, you who are trying to be justified by law; you have fallen from grace. For through the Spirit, by faith, we await the hope of righteousness. For in Christ Jesus, neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 119:41, 43, 44, 45, 47, 48

R/ Let your mercy come to me, O Lord.

Let your mercy come to me, O LORD,   your salvation according to your promise.

R/ Let your mercy come to me, O Lord.

Take not the word of truth from my mouth,   for in your ordinances is my hope.

R/ Let your mercy come to me, O Lord.

And I will keep your law continually,   forever and ever.

R/ Let your mercy come to me, O Lord.

And I will walk at liberty,   because I seek your precepts.

R/ Let your mercy come to me, O Lord.

And I will delight in your commands,   which I love.

R/ Let your mercy come to me, O Lord.

And I will lift up my hands to your commands   and meditate on your statutes.

R/ Let your mercy come to me, O Lord.

Gospel Acclamation

Hebrews 4:12

Alleluia, alleluia. The word of God is living and effective, able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

Luke 11:37-41

Give alms and behold, everything will be clean for you.

After Jesus had spoken, a Pharisee invited him to dine at his home. He entered and reclined at table to eat. The Pharisee was amazed to see that he did not observe the prescribed washing before the meal. The Lord said to him, “Oh you Pharisees! Although you cleanse the outside of the cup and the dish, inside you are filled with plunder and evil. You fools! Did not the maker of the outside also make the inside? But as to what is within, give alms, and behold, everything will be clean for you.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

-------------------------------------------

Pope Saint John XXIII

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Tuesday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Ezekiel 34:11-16

As a shepherd tends his flock so will I tend my sheep.

Thus says the Lord GOD: I myself will look after and tend my sheep. As a shepherd tends his flock when he finds himself among his scattered sheep, so will I tend my sheep. I will rescue them from every place where they were scattered when it was cloudy and dark. I will lead them out from among the peoples and gather them from the foreign lands; I will bring them back to their own country and pasture them upon the mountains of Israel in the land’s ravines and all its inhabited places. In good pastures will I pasture them, and on the mountain heights of Israel shall be their grazing ground. There they shall lie down on good grazing ground, and in rich pastures shall they be pastured on the mountains of Israel. I myself will pasture my sheep; I myself will give them rest, says the Lord GOD. The lost I will seek out, the strayed I will bring back, the injured I will bind up, the sick I will heal, but the sleek and the strong I will destroy, shepherding them rightly.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 23:1-3a, 4, 5, 6

R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.   In verdant pastures he gives me repose; Beside restful waters he leads me;   he refreshes my soul.

R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

Even though I walk in the dark valley   I fear no evil; for you are at my side With your rod and your staff   that give me courage.

R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

You spread the table before me   in the sight of my foes; You anoint my head with oil;   my cup overflows.

R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

Only goodness and kindness follow me   all the days of my life; And I shall dwell in the house of the LORD   for years to come.

R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

Gospel Acclamation

Matthew 23:9b, 10b

Alleluia, alleluia. You have but one Father in heaven; you have but one master, the Christ! Alleluia, alleluia.

Or:

Matthew 28:19a, 20bc

Alleluia, alleluia. Go, and teach all nations, says the Lord; I am with you always, until the end of the world. Alleluia, alleluia.

Or:

Mark 1:17

Alleluia, alleluia. Come after me, says the Lord, and I will make you fishers of men. Alleluia, alleluia.

Or:

Luke 4:18

Alleluia, alleluia. The Lord sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor and to proclaim liberty to captives. Alleluia, alleluia.

Or:

John 10:14

Alleluia, alleluia. I am the good shepherd, says the Lord; I know my sheep, and mine know me. Alleluia, alleluia.

Or:

John 15:5

Alleluia, alleluia. I am the vine, you are the branches, says the Lord: whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit. Alleluia, alleluia.

Or:

John 15:15b

Alleluia, alleluia. I call you my friends, says the Lord, for I have made known to you all that the Father has told me. Alleluia, alleluia.

Or:

2 Corinthians 5:19

Alleluia, alleluia. God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

John 21:15-17

Feed my lambs, feed my sheep.

After Jesus had revealed himself to his disciples and eaten breakfast with them, he said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” Simon Peter answered him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” He then said to Simon Peter a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Simon Peter answered him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was distressed that he had said to him a third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[doctorstephenvincentstrange]

Doctor Strange & Worth: MCU Meta

So this has sat unposted in my drafts for the longest time, but I’ve decided to dust her off and let her see the light of day, after all. These are just some of my thoughts regarding Stephen’s character development and journey in the Marvel Cinematic Universe film: his growth from someone who cannot see the true worth in himself or anybody else to someone whose eyes are opened to the beauty of everything. Not to mention how that eye-opening allows him to evolve from someone who cannot love to someone who loves fully and truly, and how Kaecilius plays a vital role in opening his eyes to the error of his ways.

Without further ado, let’s get into it! 

Let’s start with the beginning of the movie.

Stephen flounces around the hospital like he owns the place and flexes his overbearing, boastful personality without a second thought. Like, most people have at least a smidgen of consideration for others and some degree of self-consciousness or ‘filter’ regarding how they treat others, but Stephen has zero. He talks down on staff members, orders people around like inferiors regardless of their status, and acts as though he is God almighty and the hospital would go to the dogs without him, overestimating his self importance. He legit acted like an overgrown child that’s yet to be struck with the reality everything is not about him. Stephen seizes every possible opportunity to show off even when inappropriate, and does all he can to assert his correctness and prioritizes it. It’s clear from the get-go that Stephen has some kind of overinflated sense of self.

All this would certainly seem to indicate beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is a generic arrogant, selfish bastard 101, but let’s skip ahead a bit, just for a sec.

This line isn’t him joking around, rather, it’s the confirmation that Stephen truly thought his own behavior was endearing. As much as he liked himself, he was convinced everybody else did, too. He genuinely, sincerely was convinced that his antics were somehow winsome and charming. And of course, having been in a position of power as a Chief Surgeon and his state of world renown, there’s no way anybody would have told him otherwise. Nobody would really be frank and honest with him — I mean, yeah, sure, Christine was, but seeing as she was the only one he was on friendly terms with who he held in high regard and was frank with him (exclude Nick, and all probable others Stephen smugly thought very little of, and their opinions), there’s no way he’d take one person’s word over that of the masses. And it’s just obvious how overcrowded he was with sycophants that overfed his deluded ego and made it harder for him to wake up to his own self deception revolving the ‘charm’ he was convinced that he possessed.

Just look at the way he hits on her! Look at the denial! We did too have fun! 

You know how people say “the bigger they are, the harder they fall?” 

Yeah, this story really does live up to that.

The lie Stephen was living was cut short when he lost it all and his fall from grace leaves him at the mercy of people’s honesty. All those “people skills” he thought he had do him no favors, and suddenly anybody and everybody can speak freely to him, and he’s not getting sugarcoated responses. He’s no longer treating people as his inferiors however he pleases without lash back.

And Stephen, who only knows his worth through the reception and acknowledgement of his talent and the amazing feats he had achieved with his hands in the neurological field, now feels the weight of worthlessness crushing down upon him. There are no more CCN interviews, no more speaking engagements. In his own mind, he is useless. And without any worth, there is no reason anyone would want anything to do with him. He cannot accept, within his narrow mindset, that anybody could ever love him in this reduced state. For that reason, he insists that Christine Palmer — that unlike TV reporters or other sycophants, has stayed by his side all this time  — must only linger beside him for her own self gain and reputation. It must simply be an act of pity, because that’s how Stephen sees Christine’s acts of selflessness and her work— nothing but her looking down on other people to boost her own sense of self, as he has.

And when Stephen goes to Karmar-Taj, he’s completely out of his element and in a setting that is absolutely foreign to him, but navigates all the same, the only way that he knows how to. His thoughtless, proud tendency to view all else as beneath him really comes back to haunt him when it threatens to close the door to magic — and miraculous change and healing for him — forever. 

By the time Stephen realizes he has misjudged the Ancient One and Kamar-Taj, and that magic is indeed very real and potentially his one last shot at reobtaining his former life, it is too late. He beseeches the Ancient One to teach him the ways of magic, but she has already seen enough of his arrogance to determine him an ill fit for a pupil..

In the end, it is because of Mordo convincing the Ancient One that even a man such as Strange still has worth and he may be of use in the future, reasserting their beliefs that all life has value, no matter how misguided it may be, it need only be redirected and put on the correct path... does the Ancient One agree and allow Strange to return, for a chance at redemption and potentially salvation. 

And so, Stephen begins studying magic. And unsurprisingly, being wrong about magic isn’t enough to hamper his antics. He’s the same old Strange.

In this scene, Wong tells Stephen when he’s not ready to learn something yet, but Stephen completely challenges and opposes him, going so far as to break the rules of the library Wong protects just so he can continue with his self advancement and conquest towards superiority (and hopefully, healing). He challenges his lessons, preferring to teach himself and refusing to acknowledge that even his teachers could possibly have any superiority to his abilities. 

 And it’s so hard for Stephen to make sense of, the backlash he receives for these behaviors. He can’t understand how he’s apparently ‘made for the mystic arts’ but is also being told to mind his pace and take everything bit by bit, step by step and not just rush headlong in impatiently as he always has. In his own mind, he’s not doing anything wrong by breaking rules or pushing limits —  it’s all about the results, after all. And this, this is for the most important result of them all... his hands. It doesn’t matter how dirty they have to get, he wants to fix them.

In the medical world, when Stephen showed off, people clapped & praised him because what harm could there be in pushing the limits and crossing the boundaries to save someone’s life? It was okay if he wanted to do something unconventional and risky (like remove a bullet from someone’s brain without a visual) because the ends justified the means, and he always delivered. It didn’t matter what he had to do or how ruthless he was, treating all around him as mere tools at his disposal to achieve what he wanted, without considering what might be at stake. Boundaries were never of the essence to Stephen.

But when he pushes the boundaries of magic and tries out the Ancient One’s Private Collection just to pursue greatness and feed his own ambition, he gets retaliation from both Wong and Mordo and is reprimanded about all the consequences he didn’t think of and other lives he wasn’t considering as he never has been before. And Stephen can barely collect himself and for the first time in the film, is speechless and out of witty remarks to snap. He is just so put off because he’s never been put in that position before, being held accountable for the liabilities of his pursuits for greatness. Simply put, he had never been made to consider the eggs he was breaking to get his omelet, and now, he is.

And he still doesn’t get it. “They  really should put the warnings before the spell,” he says, because clearly it’s not his hastiness or ambition at fault, but the book.

And he doesn’t get it, and he most likely would have never gotten it or opened up to the Ancient One, Wong, Mordo, or even Christine. No, he had to see it for himself. And see it, he does; in fact, it ends up staring him straight in the face.

They didn't spend so much screen time drawing parallels between these two over and over for no reason, this was what it was all building up to. Here, Doctor Strange meets his ego’s match. Kaecilius wants to save the world by granting everyone eternal life, preventing all its inhabitants from feeling suffering ever again. A bit like "doing work that will save thousands for years to come," no? 

The influence and efforts of others finally pay off as Stephen begins to apply their thinking, and questions what the cost will be if Kaecilius does that for the whole world, and if that accomplishment would really be as amazing as doing what he can in the immediate moment to spare the/ benefit the lives of individual people... kind of like “saving one drunk idiot with a gun,” right?. And Kaecilius dismisses Strange's interjections, repeats the same words he said to the Ancient one in the beginning... they’re just insignificant specks in an indifferent universe, just sacrifices that must be had to achieve what must be done. He even tries to reason with Strange, and appeal to the very reason he’s in that mess in the first place... his hands, and his deep desire to have them healed and restored.

And for the first time Stephen is looking the devil in the eye, and sees himself.

 “Just look at your face!”  And in that moment, Stephen rejects the man he has been, and can see clearly his flaws for what they are. His ego trip may have blinded him, but in that moment, he got on his own level and saw himself for the first time the way that others saw him, and it wasn’t someone he wanted to be and he recognized the wrongs of his ways. How ambition and the conquest for betterment can consume someone completely, until they’re so blinded in their pursuit for self worth, that they disregard the worth of all the other lives and people around them — it’s all ends that justify the means. It's not actually about doing what's right. It's about accomplishing the greatest feat possible for oneself — this is Kaecellius' ego unleashed, not a sincere quest for world salvation.

And everything bad he didn’t want to become that he saw in Kaecellius, gives way for new direction in all the inspiring goodness he sees in the Ancient One, her final farewell, and her sacrifice of her life to save his and Mordo’s own.

And in the end, Stephen finally understands what the Ancient One, Wong, and Mordo, and Christine were all on about. It’s not about what change you can create for other people to benefit yourself, Stephen; it's about the change YOU can make to benefit other people, who are so many in number and so much larger than yourself. It’s not about the strength in your hands, and what they can do; but the resolve of your heart, and the strength of your will.

And he learns, because the Ancient One teaches him...

He uses his own lifeforce to fence off Dormamu from earth, because even if he suffers, everyone else will be safe. He tests the worth that the Ancient One claimed she always saw in him; that could achieve things greater than he ever dreamed, greater than his medical ambitions. The goal-oriented, ruthless man we saw in the beginning becomes someone who learns true purpose and ambition. His life that was hollow and empty, becomes truly fulfilling.

And the most intriguing piece of irony of them all?

After exhausting countless resources, plenty of doctors, libraries, and research archives seeking a way to heal his own hands, he found nothing but failure. But using only his own willpower, he who felt helpless and powerless against his disabled hands, managed to save the entire planet and all those living within it.

Because it wasn't his hands that gave him value, nor was it his work. There was something greater, but he was blind to it in himself, and everybody else, seeing all based on what they could accomplish — their educational background, their medical accomplishments  — a worth greater than him, in the world all around him that he always disregarded and failed to see. Something beautiful, precious.

And parallel to earlier events, when Stephen once again pushes the boundaries of magic, but this time, not in pursuit of greatness of for the betterment of his own hands... he is not received with a vocal reprimandation. On the other hand...

And here we are, at the end.

Stephen says it again. “You know, you really should read everything, because the warnings come at the beginning of the books.” He pokes fun at Kaecilius, at himself, at their likeness with a humility unlike yet before.

And Wong laughs. When Stephen went through so many different things trying to make Wong laugh — like he always had his other co-workers— he didn’t. 

But when he put himself and his heart into it, he did.

And no longer is Stephen on the same path as Kaecilius, surrounded by subservient followers, who only did as he told them because of what he was after and the results he promised to be able to deliver on. Now, he surrounds himself with those who genuinely care for him for who he is. No longer is Stephen so blinded by his need to be the greatest person in the room, that he can't see the worth of those around him — of love, of friendship, of companionship.