#i am stuck here. with you. so stop pretending that i have any power in this situation because i DONT

[landscaping-your-mind]

"it's okay if you fight with me, i can take it" for god's sake stop being such a fucking martyr

[comicaurora]

Have you seen the new Superman show on adult swim? Himbo Clark Kent rights

It's off to an extremely encouraging start! Thoughts under the cut!

I like how they portray Clark's super-strength and how comfortable he is flying and using super-speed. They really feel like innate characteristics of his body rather than powers he switches on and off - things he keeps toned down when people are watching, but things that are always present regardless. The number of times I've pulled a push door or shoved something that was stuck and thought "if I had super-strength I wouldn't get a Take Two on this because my hand would've gone straight through that" is clearly something the showrunners have also thought about. This Clark lives in a world of cardboard and physically cannot stop himself from putting his hand through it at least once a day.

There's a physicality to the way Clark takes hits that really communicates how little he feels them most of the time. Eyes open, mouth closed, immediately getting back into the fight after getting punched into a crater. This is stuff I also think about when I draw supernaturally tough characters in combat situations, and it's cool to see someone else doing it - especially since one of my very few complaints about the older DCAU is that Superman always took every hit like it was a fully incapacitating blow, which Worf'd him pretty constantly.

I also like that we have so far never seen Clark angry. We've seen him scared, flustered, disappointed - but not angry. Even in fights where he's taking serious hits, he's only motivated by wanting to protect and save people, even his opponents - he so far has never been motivated by a desire to destroy. That feels like very good writing for Superman.

It's currently a little unclear how exactly his powerset is scaling - it looks like the blue-eye-glow-and-suit-emblem thing is a legitimate powerup that lets him hit harder and recover faster than his normal baseline, but how exactly that works isn't clear yet - although that is very obviously going to be a plot point later, since they keep giving him little flashes of the story of Krypton's destruction and what shenanigans they were getting up to when it exploded.

On that note, Kryptonian tech has never looked or felt so otherworldly. I love the distorted electronic backward-voice choir they use exclusively for when Clark is on the ship. I love that hologram Jor-El can't speak English, but can clearly understand Clark - also this is the coolest Jor-El has ever looked. Some comics wax poetic about how Clark is an alien space god who only pretends to be human, but I like how this show is firmly putting Clark on the side of the audience with regards to how unsettling the "alien space god" vibes truly are. He can't understand the nature of the ship or the words of its holographic inhabitant, he's not really interested in what it means or where it came from - he just wants to know who he is, or rather who Superman should be. And I like that he concludes that Superman should be him - the heroics he was already doing, except this time on purpose. Superman should not be this spooky glowing alien god thing, even if that's the vibe we get from Krypton itself.

I like that the ship gave Superman his modern no-underpants-on-the-outside suit and Ma Kent was like "we can do better than that" and added the underpants back on.

I also like how much setup there is for future plot stuff that a DC-familiar audience can see coming. Clark hasn't used any of his vision-based powers yet, and it's possible he doesn't know they exist. No sign of Lex Luthor or Kryptonite yet, two problems we know will become more severe with time. We've already got Amanda Waller being stoically nefarious in the background. Young Hot Deathstroke is a hell of a design choice and I am Here For It.

I also appreciate how many little referential jokes are packed into the dialogue, ranging from the obvious "it's a bird it's a plane" to some hella deep pulls like Jimmy Olson's youtube channel.

And fundamentally I love how this show starts from the jump with the thesis that friendly, humble, Normal Man Clark is the real person, and Superman is the job that Clark Kent does. The title of the show is "My Adventures With Superman." The POV character is Clark. He is the "my" in that title. This is Clark's story about Superman.

I really, really hope Batman eventually shows up, because this Superman would make that hilarious.

[mira-s-bookclub]

Beneath a Veil of Shadows Part 2

Azriel x Reader

Note: I know one whole week is a lot of time to wait, but have in mind that I am exceptional at over working myself and getting the fattest writing block in history :(. So it is to regulate myself.

Warnings: Mature language, fighting, injury and blood, captivity, mention of torture?

Word Count: 1,9k

. . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . .

I wake in a cell; seemingly underground should the smell give any indicator. My head is pulsating with hurt and when I try to stand up, my vision whites out. “I swear to the Mother...!” I breathe out.

A figure comes forth from the darkness across from me. Hoping he comes close enough for me to- I jump forwards. Yanked back by the chains biting into my wrists, I whimper. They had locked me up.

A dark voice chuckles from across me and I look up again. The male had wings and I could bet my soul it was the man I went up against. The man, who disappeared without anything else, would be marked for an earlier death than he thought, either by me or Azriel.

“They are soldiers.”

“What?” I jerk at the voice in the dark cell, my voice breathy. “Azriel did you know this would happen? Is this some means to get inside intel?” The last part came out harsher than I intended, at once regretting ever asking. I did not think he would set me up. Himself? Probably, if Rhysand did not interfere.

“Stop it.” He hisses at me. I cannot see him, but I feel his eyes on me, nonetheless. “I had heard talk of loyalties being changed in Hewn City, people getting ready for a new, great power rising to take the throne.” I hear Azriel at ground level, most likely sitting against the wall, a soft rattling in his chains. “I did not intent for us to approach either problem, but I should have informed you, however.” His voice sounds resigned, apologetic, even. Though he is faulty of nothing. “I would never have asked Rhysand to take you if I knew, know that.”

My heart misses a beat. “You were the reason I was sent here? You asked for me?”

“I missed you.” His voice was almost too soft to hear. “Even before,” he pauses, “our falling-out. I missed something I had not even experienced with you, a closeness that never would be enough. It did not help when I create space between us, but it was easier to pretend the further away from you I was.”

“Azriel- “

“I never would have taken you, Y/n. Never. Not if I had known.” His breathing is uneven, and I can hear him ruffling his wings.

“I do not blame you, Azriel. There was no way you could have known, even if you had informed me, I would not have done anything differently.”

He snorts. “You always stick to a plan, no matter the consequences.”

“I thought that was a desired skill?”

“Not for you.” My own breathing almost faltered. “Abort the mission, Y/n, if you see the result ending up captive or dead.”

I did not know what to say to that. I did not have it in me to leave others behind. If it were not the Inner Circle fighting, then it was someone who chose to fight with me, and I could not disappoint. But if it were the Inner Circle, if it were Azriel, there would be nothing on my mind except the knowing that they must, at all costs, come out of it alive.

I shift, my chains clinking at the movement. If I think of the chains for too long; I was sure panic would cloud my judgment, making me reckless and rash.

Leaning back against the wall, I contemplate our situation. A routine check, Azriel had said, turned traitors and wars. Stuck behind enemy lines, I did not know whether to cry or laugh. I chose the latter.

“I did not know captivity could spark such a light in you, Y/n.” Azriel’s dark voice sent a shiver down my back. Sliding down the wall to the ground, I sniff. Not noticing my tears until they had made their way down my cheeks.

“I have plans with Feyre tonight.”

Azriel was quiet for a time. “I think you might have to reschedule.”

Neither of us spoke for a while after that, the seriousness of the situation weighing down on us. Azriel had estimated for this mission to take a couple of days, and it was uncertain how much time Rhysand was willing to give before tapping into resources to find us. Azriel did not enlighten me to his thoughts, but I knew what clouded my own mind; it would take days before someone would come.

The last hours had been calm and quiet, safe for the irritating drops of water falling from the ceiling. The small space was humid and dark.

At times when panic seemed to seep through my bones, I closed my eyes and wished back to the past. I have memorized the way the sun used to hit my face, how the sand felt between my toes. I am smart enough to know that the brain remembers only the selected few, happy, memories. But Mother was it happy. Thinking back, I could remember snippets of a ship route where my sleeping quarters did not look too far from this.

Right after leaving Cretea, the emissary had told me the cost of taking care of two people would result in far treacherous travels, he had been right. I might have never stepped foot on a ship before, but I sure as hell would not have been ready for that travel, even if I had. We had spent days loading cargo, sleeping in small cots, I had never really dried up during those days. But as I think back to a different time, I wonder if I would have traded places with a younger me.

I look towards Azriel, who is standing again. From the sounds of it he had looked around the cell, probably for anything of use in this situation.

“Azriel?” My voice pierces the silence, and I internally wince.

“Mhm.”

I take a deep breath. “You are more strategically inclined than me, anything on the situation?”

“Do not talk your skills down.” His voice is near, and I hear him sit by me again. I wait for a genuine answer from him, not advice I surely will not take.

“Our last council, not with Prythian, but only The Night Court, was about the ongoing threat of war. Our world is on the verge of destruction, a problem bigger than Rhysand and Amren have thought, even bigger than Elain have foreseen from her position as The Day Courts Seer.” Azriel seems to take a breath, letting the thought sink that they must go to war again, so close to the last. Resources and relocation of people would bring a whole other crisis. “This... situation only confirms my speculations that they are rearming, and that fast.

My confusion swirls again. “Who?”

Heavy steps outside our cell silence us. I can feel my heart quicken and sweat begin to form on my forehead.

“Do not say a thing,” he whispers.

I nod but feel stupid when I remember Azriel cannot see me. My chains feel cold as I caress them, trying to find out if they will unclasp with force, I find nothing.

The door opens, revealing the same male I stood up against, his wings tight against his back. The shining light coming from his torch creates a stark difference between the darkness cloaking this cell. Blinking against the light, his eyes find mine, his lips pulling into a smirk.

“Shadow-singer,” The Illyrian turns to greet Azriel, who says nothing in return, making him focus his attention back to me. “And you, I do not know the name of. Enlighten me.”

I stare at him, knowing Azriel wants me to stay quiet, though everything in me wants to question him. His motifs, his goals, who he works for, though I have my speculations.

He looks gruesome in the flickering light, and as his face consorts in anger at my silence, I know deep down we are fucked.

“Do you not know who I am, Little Raven?” His voice soft, so different from his exterior.

The only sound I hear is my heartbeat, pounding in my ears, and I think it might drown out the next thing he says, I think I might hope it does.

“I am Commander Denholm, of High King Koschei the Deathless’ armies.”

And I think I might die a little bit.

“Get your hands off her!” Azriel’s chains rattle and screech. My own chains pulled by the Gods forsaken male in front of me, hard enough to send me to my knees a second time. I seethe up at him, my anger unmatched. Separating us would mean interrogation, and I reckon this man does not do that civilized. I will not let this man get his hands on Azriel.

I balk as his hands come down to grip my chin and Azriel growls.

“Resist and your friend here die; it is not ideal, but one source of information is all I need.”

That shuts me up pretty quick. I look back at Azriel, who, based on my expression, tugs harder at his chains, knowing I’m yielding. I memorize his face, his expression desperate and full of despair. “Please.” He pleads with Denholm.

I stand on shaking legs, my mind catching up to what this means, playing every scenario to what an interrogation entail. Looking back to Denholm I raise my head a fraction. I will not go lightly, nor will I yield the information he wants, needs.

Tugging on my chains he walks me out of the damp cell; the hallway is made of dark stone, where no light would have made its way down here would it not be for the torches littering the walls. We turn a corner, and doors line every side of us. I try to picture what type of person, or creature, must be behind some of them. Were they innocent, sent here only by mistake? Or were they mad, locked in a battle of the mind, bloodthirsty and cruel?

We continue around another corner and up a set of stairs, at the end of the hallway lay another set of stairs, but he took a right corner, and I followed.

I knew we were close by the expression on his face; cold satisfaction reeked from him. At the end lay a big iron door, heavy enough that even the Commander had to push it open, I am sure it is thick enough to be soundproof.

A small sound escapes my lips, not going unnoticed by Denholm. He threads my chains through a hook in the ceiling and pulls me up just so that my toes reach the cold ground.

He has turned his back to me, ravaging through a table holding different objects I am sure Azriel could name. Reminded of the fact that Azriel does this for a living, I wonder if this is how his victims must feel. If he thinks what is happening right now is right, considering he does this too.

 My breath comes quicker, and quicker, until I’m sure I cannot breathe. I cannot breathe. The walls are moving, and they are moving inwards, closing in on me. My heart is like a finch’s. I cannot breathe, and tears roll down my face as the Commander turns around to meet my gaze. His wings ruffling and rearranging, as I have seen Azriel’s and Cassian’s do when excited.

And in his hand, appearing from his side to give me a good view, is a whip.

And a sob escapes me.

. . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . .

To be added to the Taglists, comment:

All ACOTAR - 🌹

All Azriel - 🥀

All TOG - 🌼

Tag List: @tele86 @lilah-asteria @mariahoedt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @tenshis-cake @mybestfriendmademe

[gamerwoman3d]

Pretend I'm Him [Pt. 3]

An MK1 x Reader

Part 1 Click Here

Previous Part Click Here [Pt. 2]

To See My External Masterlist, Click Here

[🔞Spicy/Explicit after the cut🔞]

You looked into his eyes, thought about telling him his eyes were pretty. But you just stared. He stared back. You considered that you might be falling in love. You thought you both might be falling in love. It felt fine. You felt ready to be fully enveloped in his arms. You pulled at his biceps.

“Hold me,” you said.

...

He did so, awkward on his knees between your legs. He pushed his bare chest against yours and slid his hands across your back until his arms were all around you, wedged between your body and the plush back of the chair. He peppered your cheek with feather-light kisses, then stopped. He snuggled against you and held you, nothing more.

You expected him to make some kind of move. To play with himself, to suck your neck, to hunch you, or pull you into a better position for sex, something. It perplexed you when he did nothing to indicate any expectations of sex.

“Are you… going to have sex with me?” you asked.

“If you wish,” he replied.

“Did you not want to… fuck me?” you asked.

“This isn't about what I want,” he said, “but of course I want to fuck you.”

“Then why aren't you-”

“You look satisfied.” he interrupted.

“I am, but-”

“Good. I will feel blessed if you stay satisfied,” he said, “but I don't expect you to. I can think of all kinds of things I would enjoy doing with your body, but I cannot stress enough that this really, truly is not about me. This is about you. Your wants, your needs, your satisfaction, your fulfillment- keeping you satiated is my only goal.”

“But that's so uneven,” you said.

“I will sleep tonight knowing better than that. You can take everything you want from me and I will still be in your debt. I'm not greedy enough to put a price on the peace of mind it takes to rest well,” he said.

“But I want you to get what you want. I want to see you getting what you want,” you said.

His breath rattled in his throat as he sighed.

“What I want is for you not to see how quickly I might come undone right now,” he said.

You looked naughty the second he said that.

“Oh no,” he said.

“Can I feel? Or do you want me to stop?” You asked.

You groped his cock through the fabric. He slipped the fabric down, exposing it.

“Yes. And yes,” he said, “but go on.”

His eyelids fluttered shut and his heavy breath rattled past your ear. His cockhead felt heavier, wetter, and hotter in your hand than you were prepared for.

You needed it.

“Condoms.” you said.

“As you wish,” he said as he rose to fulfill your request.

He pushed his pants down around his hips as he stood, and stepped out of them. He motioned for you to stay. As he walked away, you were able to see the way light painted every part of his naked body.

The light glinted off the shimmering wet tip that stuck out from him, leading his way, barely bobbing as he walked out of the room. Shadows bit into the V shaped cuts from his hips to his groin. Light and shadow combined forces to reveal more muscle and sinew in his legs than you'd dared imagined. You watched the workings of his ass and thighs as he walked away and realized that with all the power contained within those muscles, he could, and was probably about, to fuck you stupid.

He returned to the room holding the still-steaming kettle, used earlier to boil water for tea. He had a stack of towels in his arm, and a string of condoms dangled from his mouth. He set everything on the tea tray as he ripped open the perforated package with his teeth. His index finger and thumb found the edge of the condom within and rolled, feeling for its direction. He rolled it down on his cock in a swift fluid motion before returning to you.

You lifted yourself higher in the chair. He reached out as if to pick you up. You raised and tucked your legs expectantly as his hands went under you to grip the lowest part of your back. You shared a moment of intense, breathy eye contact as the tip of his heavy cock touched you. You were on the brink of telling him you needed to feel it inside you when he embedded himself within you.

He plunged himself all the way to the hilt as an unexpected groan, one that resonated like a cello scratched by a tiger, escaped him. He hung his head at a low, worrisome angle, so severe that you could see the knot of his bun as he rested the top of his head against your breast to hide his widened eyes from you. His rigid body petrified while inside you. You felt very full, very snug, and warm inside with his overheated motionless cock pressed within you. But after a single lengthy, shuddering breath, he swallowed, and shook his head.

“Oh,” he said with another lengthy breath, “oh that's not fair.”

The firm hands on your back unclenched. He would not look at you as he reached around you to the base of his cock. He pulled out carefully. When he stood up, you could see the well of the condom plump and filled full of his premature cum.

For a split second, you're simply frozen with thoughts running through your head, grimacing as if you had just broken something very expensive. Do I stay still and let him handle it? Do I say anything? Do I comfort him? OH MY GOD did i just *break* the grandmaster? Wow, it's kinda hot when his legs shake under him. Wait, why didn't I get to see his face!

His legs did shake beneath him as he stumbled away from you to pull off the spent condom and dispose of it. He washed up with a bit of scalding water and a tea towel, then reached for another condom with shaky hands. Curiosity quickly replaced your anxiety as you wondered what he was about to do with it. This condom also went on his cleaned cock, to replace the last one. This time, it took more than a few strokes to get the thing rolled all the way down the erect, but softening shaft. Once the bottom edge of the condom met the base of the shaft, his lips pursed. With one hand holding the desk for support, he held and squeezed the base of his shaft tight.

The faint but unmistakable wispy tinkling sound of cryomancy pulsed briefly in the room. He winced, hiccuped, and his legs faltered in that instance. He leaned heavily against the desk until he could regain his footing.

He seemed woozy as he turned to face you. As he strode toward you you could see how he directed his ice magic: At the base of his fleshy cock, an icy cockring cut all the way through the shaft. He turned a thin slice of himself at the base of his hard cock into solid ice, to constrict the bloodflow and remain erect.

“What did you do?” you blushed as you asked.

“Something uncomfortable. But I think you might appreciate the endurance that my discomfort affords me, if you'll forgive the interruption,” he asked.

“I could forgive the interruption if you hadn't hidden your face from me,” you said.

He dropped his head, a bit defeated, at your words. When he looked up again, his face looked beautiful and tired at once. You knew he didn't intend to disappoint you: when he thought he failed to please you, he hid his face from you during the peak of his failure. But now, the look on his face was one that sought your acceptance, your forgiveness, and your assistance.

“Hmm. You want to see my O face, do you?” he asked.

“...Yes,” you whispered, “I'm growing fond of you already.”

This caused him to pause. It also caused him to relax, to melt away some of the constant tension in his shoulders.

It wasn't just that you were growing fond of him. You wanted what he could offer you: a seamless transference of your affections, from a man that abandoned your clan, to a man whose presence in your life has been a constant.

Bi-Han kissed you apologetically.

“Reaching another orgasm will take some effort on my part. Let me attempt something if I may,” he said.

You nodded approval as he reached out to you.

He hooked an arm beneath your knees and lifted them over the arm of the chair, just to turn you over and gently lay you back down upon it crosswise, so that you found yourself bent over the arm of the chair with your hip bones hooked into the armrest, your ass in the air, your toes on the carpet, and your tits dangling against the wet spot you left in the seat. You certainly could not see his face from this position, but he could see your winking cunt, completely exposed and on offer.

The feeling of exposure gave you chillbumps of excitement, while the pressure of the arm of the chair against your bladder forced the sticky, velvety inner walls of your cunt to clamp down against each other. He ran his fingers along the backs of your thighs, kneaded open your cheeks, and teased the wet slit with the tip of his cock and the pads of his thumbs as he spoke.

“I want you here, with me. And I need you to stop thinking of running away. My vulnerabilities are not for disloyal eyes,” he asked.

His touch felt fantastic. You pressed yourself back and hunched against it. Your core flinched with each little huff.

“I'm loyal,” you mewled.

“I hope so. You are going to see everything of me that you asked to see.”

He trailed kisses up your spine, inching himself deeper into your hot cunt as he went. You closed your eyes. You knew why he chose to face you away from him, he wasn't ready for you to see him like this. You understood it to mean he felt vulnerable, not yet willing to look you in the face as he readied himself for you.

He switched his voice back to his raspy Kuai Liang mimicry to murmur praises in your ear.

“Don't take me too deep,” he said, mimicking Kuai Liang, “there's a shockingly cold surprise in store for you if you do.”

You held your breath. He sounded so good mimicking Kuai Liang, but your heart had started to want Bi-Han as himself.

“What if I don't want to pretend you're him anymore?” you asked.

You felt his teeth and lips and tongue against the back of your neck, chewing deep kisses into your spine.

“Then don't,” he purred in his own, rich gravelly voice.

You squirmed under him and slipped yourself open around his cock, demanding yet pleading out loud by whining the words “give it.”

He let himself sink into you, cock slipping deeper in your warm pussy.

To See My External Masterlist, Click Here

[catscraftsandcommentary]

I need Lambert/Milena in a Shrek AU.

Just imagine with me:

Duke de Roggeven insults a powerful wizard (we all know he would - he'd be lucky if it was only ONE) who then curses his daughters. All three of them.

(ETA: he pissed off Yennefer. Probably insulted her mixed elven heritage and/or her inability to have kids, so she went "alright. Let's see how you feel when YOUR daughters are inhuman and infertile monsters.")

By night, each of them transforms into a different non-human humanoid: Marta is a succubus (all her lust for power and a crown turned into a different kind of lust - and we'll pretend that succubi *can* live without sex, but they feel sick and hungry the whole time), Marika is an elf (still elegant and pretty, but inhuman enough to shock everyone - Marika didn't piss off Yennefer), and Milena is a witcher (Yennefer saw her strength and kindness and went "this suits you.")

Marta, of course, spends the entire time being FURIOUS at being some "sex obsessed half goat! I am the daughter of a DUKE! The ELDEST DAUGHTER! How dare she!" Marika isn't happy, per se, but she privately goes "it could be a LOT worse. I'll take it." Milena actually enjoys her new abilities - she's so strong! Her senses are much sharper! - and the eyes are rather pretty.

After being COMPLETELY HORRIFIED that his daughters (well, mostly Marta) are cursed to become non-humans by night, Duke de Roggeven locks them in a castle guarded by a dragon and then pretends that he's sent them abroad to stay with distant relatives.

Meanwhile, Marta is getting on EVERYONE'S last nerve with her constant bitching, Marika is trying to keep their lifestyle as pleasant as possible, and Milena...

Milena befriends the dragon. She thinks Villentretenmerth is fascinating, and when she learns that the three ladies who showed up to help the sisters are also dragons, she wants to learn as much as they can teach her.

(Marta refuses to acknowledge any of them. "I will not consort with beasts," she sniffs hautily, and locks herself in a private bedroom every night before sunset.)

So! Back in Redania, Duke de Roggeven has convinced everyone that Yennefer's line about "whoever breaks the curse will gain a treasure greater than gold or gems" means that they can gain literal treasure (and/or magical treasure) by rescuing and marrying his daughters, and not - to take an example COMPLETELY at random - their true love as a bride.

(Yes, true love is the cure. Of course it is.)

So the asshole king of Kaedwen hears about the supposed princess and holds a huge tournament - and Lambert shows up because "that fucker dumped a bunch of refugees in our mountains, the fucking bastard. Who does that?!"

Jaskier, being one of the refugees - and also a bard who can sense the potential for a good story - insists on coming with him. They 100% do the "Donkey won't stop singing until Shrek snaps at him to shut up - and then he hums" scene.

About five times.

(Geralt and Eskel either stayed home to help Vesemir manage the refugees or hang around the Kaedweni court to remind the king of his promise - and make sure he doesn't get any even WORSE ideas.)

(Lambert REFUSED to stay in Kaer Morhen when Vesemir was being bossy - "I get enough of him riding my damn ass during fucking winter, NO GODSDAMNED WAY." And his brothers very sensibly refused to let him stay in court longer than absolutely necessary because, uh, they've MET Lambert and they know exactly how badly it would go. So he gets rescue duty by default. At least the princess will be happy to get to Ard Carraigh and away from him. They send Jaskier with him to try to temper some of his, uh, Lambert-ness.)

Anyway! Lambert and Jaskier arrive at the tumbledown castle guarded by a dragon, and Jaskier is immediately like "oh how wonderful! How majestic! Look at that wingspan!" And Lambert is like "...remember how we're here to fight the bastard? We have to GET PAST HIM to rescue whatever noble bint got stuck out here."

Jaskier pouts.

Villentretenmerth finds all this terribly amusing, especially since he recognizes a witcher when he sees one. So he sticks his nose in their camp and asks (rumbles) "what makes you think that even a witcher can defeat the greatest and oldest of dragonkind?"

So Jaskier introduces them - as dramatically and fancily as possible - and states that they are here to rescue the princess.

Milena creeps out from Villentretenmerth's wing. "We are the daughters of the Duke de Roggeven, and there are three of us. I hope you will still take us home?"

Villentretenmerth sighs. This girl. Always getting underfoot. "I will let you take the ladies with you - but you must convince them to leave freely. If they refuse - now or later - I will take them back."

"He sent THREE girls to some remote fucking castle? Fucker. Yeah, I'll take you all. Jask, let's find 'em and get out of here."

So Milena leads them up to the tallest tower where her sisters spend their day. I can't decide if I want Marta to do the whole "sleeping beauty waiting for a kiss" thing (assuming that JASKIER is her princely rescuer and Lambert is just there as a guard.) If she does, she'll get a rude surprise when Lambert shakes her awake and tells her to pack anything she's taking with her, they're LEAVING.

So the guys get the ladies and lead them out - pretending to ignore the hissing and squabbling that said ladies are doing behind the men's backs - and are unhappily surprised AGAIN because not only are their rescuer(s) NOT a prince and his retinue, they don't even have HORSES.

The dragons, of course, are watching this with amusement...and no little relief at getting rid of Miss Complainer the Eldest.

I'm gonna say it takes less than two days for Marta and Lambert to have a truly nasty fight. She wants a horse. A private carriage, really, but she'll SETTLE for a horse. Purebred, obviously. And fashionable new dresses, and BATHS, and food cooked in an actual KITCHEN, and a private bedroom from sundown to sunrise, and...

Lambert is just like "look lady, I don't get any reward until I deliver you, I don't have the coin for any of that, and I wouldn't waste on stupid fucking luxuries if I did."

This does not go over well. At all. There are very angry words shouted about his lack of preparation, decorum, breeding, proper dress...the list is endless.

Lambert gives exactly zero shits.

Milena is watching the fight with interest - she finds him FASCINATING - and Marika is mostly trying to stay out of it. She agrees with Marta on most of the points - their tower-castle was reasonably comfortable, certainly more so than this long hike back to civilization - but also, freedom.

If only they were returning home instead of to a strange country...

Which is about when Villentretenmerth - as the human Borsch - walks into their camp, accompanied by the three dragon woman who have been tending to the sisters. "Marchionesses. Wolf. Bard. I warned you I would take the ladies back if they wished to leave your company."

"The TOWER is better than staying with this BARBARIAN," Marta sniffs. "And Father arranged for marriages for Marika and I already!"

(She knows she gets the crown prince - and she knows that Kaedwen's king is a murderous asshole. Being queen doesn't count if she's not alive to enjoy it...and she won't have allies there to help her plot regicide. She's ambitious, not stupid.)

Somehow, it works out that Borsch and his friends take Marta and Marika back while Lambert and Jaskier continue to Kaedwen with Milena. There is ABSOLUTELY a scene where Lambert is out hunting when bandits try to attack the supposedly unguarded noblewoman and bard, and Milena thoroughly kicks their ass.

Lambert runs back just in time to be HELLA aroused impressed at Milena. Jaskier is already composing an ode to her.

They arrive at Ard Carraigh. Stuck up knights send for the king, who pretends he's a decent person long enough to carry Milena off on a fancy horse. Half an hour later, just as Lambert is moping about losing his new friend, his brothers arrive and go "quick, where's the lady? We have to get out her out of here!"

A very confusing but short explanation-argument later, Eskel and Geralt are chasing after Lambert as he storms the royal palace BY HIMSELF, because like hell will he leave Milena to that monster!

The confrontation is absolutely the most dramatic thing Ard Carraigh has seen in decades, with the witchers storming in just after Milena is crowned but before she can kiss her new husband...

...whom Lambert immediately punches in the face. "HOW MANY WOMEN HAVE YOU KILLED?!? HOW MANY, ASSHOLE? Did you even bother to COUNT THEM?"

Everyone gasps. Eskel and Geralt keep the guards back with drawn swords.

"NO MORE! I *WILL NOT* let you murder Milena for your sick fucking games!"

The king tries to splutter something, but Lambert takes his head off before he can get it out.

And then the sun sets.

And Milena...changes.

Scars from her training with the dragons, greater muscles than any noblewoman should have, and her eyes...

She shrieks - not at the king's death or the witchers' violence, but at her own secret coming out. She's hidden it for so long, and so carefully...she'll never survive this. The Kaedweni court will turn her out, if they don't execute her with her (very briefly) husband -

And then Lambert takes her hand.

"Milena? Are you...okay? Did they hurt you? What happened?"

"I'm CURSED! My sisters and I are cursed - for years now!"

He looks at her. "Y'look fine to me. It suits you."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't lie to you. Never have, never will. And I think you look - good. Really good. The dress is kinda silly - "

Milena giggles. She thought the same thing, when her maids were lacing and buttoning her into the massive thing.

"But YOU are gorgeous. Always have been."

"You still like me? Even..."

"As mutated and scarred up as I am? I'd have to be a fool not to. You're the bravest, strongest, most amazing woman I've ever met."

And she kisses him. She has to, can't hold it back.

(Cue the curse breaking - and leaving her as a witcher.)

Obviously there's cleanup, but Milena IS the queen, and is suddenly betrothed to the man who killed the murderous previous king - so it works out.

And then Villentretenmerth comes back.

[chaotic-orphan]

Heroic Betrayal: part five

Read part one here

Continued from this point here

*~*~*~*~*

What kind of idiot were they to be stuck here? Hero should have told Sidekick when they got the tip about Villain… they should have told them that they were going to rough Villain up a bit, get the information they needed on Other Villain’s whereabouts and beat the shit out of them. Just a little revenge for touching a hair on Sidekick’s innocent head.

Even if they managed to catch Villain and mete out justice on Other Villain, they would have beaten the ever-living shit out of the wrong person, and that was something Hero didn’t want to think about in that moment.

That Flynn…

Their Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the med bay.

Sidekick, who was still in the med bay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead, they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

Hero didn’t know how long they sat and stewed on that thought. Long enough that their nose stopped bleeding anyway. Hero tentatively reached up to their upper lip, their hand came away from it dry, the blood caked and flaked onto their face now.

“What happened to your face?” Hero angled their head down from where they stared at the ceiling to see Flynn standing on the other side of the cell bars.

“Fuck off, Red,” Hero grumbled, and fought the wince at their casual nickname for Flynn slipping out of their lips. “I’m not in the mood.”

A jangle of keys and the cell door was open, footsteps approaching Hero in their cot in the corner. Hero’s heart ached with every beat as Flynn came into their line of sight, concern drawing his features together.

How many times had they seen that same concern on his face? Told Hero it was going to be okay. Cleaned their wounds, laughed about the bruises the next day?

How much of it was a lie? — Hero wanted to ask. The question burned a hole on the tip of their tongue, but they didn’t dare speak it. They just stared up at the ceiling as best they could.

“What? You piss someone off already?”

Hero sighed. Flynn sat on the edge of the bed, moving closer to Hero, his hands going to inspect the damage like he so often did. It made something ache in Hero’s chest. Hero slapped their hands away, tears burning in the back of their eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Flynn,” Hero bit out. “You don’t get to betray me and then pretend to be my friend and concerned about me.”

Flynn stared; eyes sad as he said: “okay. Guess I deserve that.”

“You deserve so much more,” Hero said, eyes burning with hatred, voice barely above a whisper. “How many of our friends died because of you? Hmm?”

“Hero, not all of it–” Flynn began then stopped, huffed out a breath of air through his nose, hand running through his hair. “Not all of it was a lie. I am your friend. I do care about you.”

“Oh really? Then you’d never use your power on me, right?” Hero demanded, echoing back Flynn’s words against him. Flynn had the audacity to even look guilty at that, and Hero leaned forwards, hands on Flynn’s as they said: “I forgive you, okay. I forgive you if you let me go. Flynn, please.”

Flynn’s eyebrows knit together, clearly conflicted but he said nothing. After a moment, Hero let out a breath of disbelief and sat back against the wall again.

“Yeah,” Hero scoffed, “we’re friends.”

“You have blood all over your face, Hero. You really want to just leave it?”

“Why the hell not?” Hero said, trying to force their tone into some form of neutrality.

Flynn sighed and stood up from the cot. “Supervillain wants an audience with you. I was sent to retrieve you.”

Hero rolled their eyes but got to their feet no less. “Of course,” they said, pushing past Flynn to the door. “God help you actually wanted to see how I was doing.”

“Hero—”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Let’s just go.”

“Hero that’s not—”

Before they could get the fourth word out, Hero had whirled on them eyes blazing hotter than any hells furnace.

“Fair?!” They asked incredulously, their voice jumping two pitches at the sheer audacity of the word on their lips. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Flynn didn’t back down this time. Instead he stepped forward, looking down his nose at Hero.

“Yes. That is what I was going to say.”

“You are unbelievable!” Hero snapped matching Flynn with a step forward of their own. They held their cuffed hands up in Flynn’s face as if to remind him exactly why Hero was there in the first place. “If you’re my friend you’ll take these off.”

“Hero you know I can’t—”

Hero didn’t let him finish. Instead they placed their palms on Flynn’s chest and shoved them as hard as they could. Flynn looked about as bothered as if a fly had flown into the room.

“I can’t uncuff you Hero,” Hero said, lowering their voice to mimic Flynn’s and shoving him back again. “I can’t let you go Hero.” And again. “I can’t fucking think—” shove “for myself” shove “Hero.”

Hero glared up at Flynn trying to fight back the frustrated tears building behind her eyes. Anger was easier to focus on in the moment rather than that vast aching pit twisting uncomfortably in their gut.

“But I promise I’m your friend, Hero,” Hero mocked, shoving him back again until Flynn’s back hit off the wall. Flynn’s eyebrows curved down and it left a pang in Hero’s chest that they hated. “And then you have the gall to look hurt. As if I betrayed you.”

Hero ignored the tears that fell at the last sentence, or at least tried to. They tried to be firm and act tough, but saying the betrayal out loud, acknowledging it when it was just the two of them was too much.

“Would you trust me if the roles were reversed?” Hero asked, not even wanting to look at Flynn for the answer. The more they saw the conflict on his face the harder it was to hate him. Flynn however, didn’t take this into consideration when he put his hand on Hero’s face and tilted it back to face him.

Hero narrowed their eyes at him, pushing every ounce of anger into their gaze hoping they would turn into actual daggers and stab him.

“No,” Flynn breathed softly, thumb wiping away the tear streaks from Hero’s face. “I wouldn’t trust you if the roles were reversed, but I would hear you out of you tried to explain it to me.”

“And if I took you to Supervillain?!” Hero asked, their voice low and furious as they stepped out of Flynn’s touch. “The enemy we’ve been trying to stop for months?”

“You.”

“What?!” Hero demanded hotly.

Flynn’s gaze hardened, his face devoid of all emotion now except for his usual mask of easy confidence, smirk on his lips as if he didn’t just wipe Hero’s tears away.

“The enemy you’ve been trying to stop for months,” Flynn said again taking a step forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Hero matched his step with one back, cautious, hackles raised. “I mean the man you borderline obsessed over, Hero. Don’t you want to meet the genius who eluded you, the great detective, for all that time?”

“Not particularly,” Hero said through gritted teeth, with another step back that Flynn matched, getting closer and closer each time.

“That’s what you called him though, right? A genius,” Flynn teased, his grin showing his teeth. “I mean, fuck, Hero some of the moves he made you were damn right impressed with. You even said you’d have done exactly the same thing if—”

“I was in his position,” Hero cut Flynn off. Flynn’s smirk grew wider as he took another step closer, dipping his head conspiratorially.

“Now you can be,” said Flynn with a wide gesture of his hands. Hero followed his hand to the cell door that they happened to be right beside. Hero was keenly aware that Flynn was backing them towards the door the whole time. “Even just for the intellectual stimulation if nothing else.”

“Go fuck yourself, Flynn. I’m not willingly walking into the Lion’s den.”

Flynn’s eyelids fell half over his eyes. “It is less dignified to be dragged, Hero, but if you insist.”

Flynn made a grab for Hero’s arm but they dodged at the last minute, turning to shoulder Flynn out of the way. Flynn didn’t so much as budge from his spot. Instead he caught Hero by the strap of their scabbard and yanked them into Flynn’s chest.

“The hard way, wonderful. I wouldn’t expect any less of you Hero,” Flynn said, wrapping an arm over Hero's chest and keeping them close as they stepped out of the cell, pushing Hero forward with their own body weight. “Let's go introduce you to Supervillain.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The orphanage roll call (tag-list): @shywhumpauthor (lmk if you want to be added/removed)

[lunarriviera]

another thrilling spirealm update

henlo my friends yes it's that time once again where i tell you what is happening on the bizarrely named drama "the spirealm," i am at episode 25 having shotgunned it all weekend and i have thoughts, opinions, and a gabillion screencaps of ruan nanzhu looking stricken, i finally had to stop taking them because he has the exact same face of devastated yearning in all of them and i was filling up my cloud drive. spoilers ahoy! [parts one and two are here if you even care]

as just mentioned, ruan nanzhu spends his time looking either 1) icily indifferent (when people who aren't qiushi are talking to him and/or dying in front of him, to his vast annoyance) or 2) torn asunder by pangs of desire (whenever he's staring at qiushi, who's babbling obliviously about science or clues or absolutely nothing of any importance whatsoever). here is a representative screencap but he has this look on his face pretty much continually, like he's just been hit by a car. a car of love.

it makes me put my head in my hands and scream quietly, i haven't seen a BL actor who understood the assignment this well since zhang xincheng or maybe even z1l. (who all clearly not only read the novel but underlined it, highlighted it, and stuck in colored post-it notes.) when not busy with adoration, he swans around being magnificent in a frockcoat like he's edward rochester, while lin qiushi trails behind him wearing a fit he got out of the goodwill box in his college dorm.

in spite of being besties with a literal fashion icon, at no point does it ever seem to occur to lingling "hm maybe i should dress a bit more formally for my imminent demise inside the doors"—no, instead he proudly wears his ratty sweatshirt with holes in it. which i sort of think might belong to huang junjie. idk maybe qiushi trusts it, and feels safe in it, hey look at that i made it sad.

massive power couple energy. also notice how their outfits are exact black-and-white negatives of each other, the harper's bazaar wedding photoshoot would have been so goddamn lit.

taking a brief moment for a shoutout to this guy. chen fei i don't even know what your fate will be but i already know you deserved better. not only do you patch everyone up with your veterinary knowledge, but i have seen your unrequited love. it did not go unobserved. you would have been a great partner, you're unimpressed by everything and drink your soy milk with chilling apathy. i'm real sorry the theatre gay didn't love you back. you're too similar i guess.

back to lin qiushi who has the worst case of main character energy since harry freaking potter. somehow the game is about him??? he has trauma??? none of this was in the novel and i'm just pretending it's not happening until it becomes impossible to ignore. in the meantime he continues to sympathize with door ghosts because he's just that nice of a guy. (EXCEPTION: nanzhu literally murdered two competitors bc they threatened his darling, and lin qiushi helped him cover it up. i was appalled for like 5 minutes then i shrugged. it's a cutthroat game, the doors change people. also it's like captain mal used to say: if someone tries to kill you, you kill 'em right back.) i have big Theories about what is fixing to happen but for now i will end by relating that lin qiushi has gone into a door alone, because he wants to butch up and be a better partner for ruan nanzhu. and that would be a great idea and super helpful except that nanzhu IMMEDIATELY WENT OUT OF HIS MIND WITH BLIND TERROR. outwardly of course he gives no signs of this (other than hiring someone to protect his fragile boyfriend, which, if lingling figures this out, ruan nanzhu will be sleeping on the sofa forever).

here he is pushing food around his plate miserably at lingling's funeral pre-solo-door party. everyone is having such a fun time.

and here he is standing in front of the door waiting like a dumb wounded animal. i have a feeling if lin qiushi doesn't emerge at 15 minutes on the dot, nanzhu will simply expire on the spot, like a wolf separated from its mate. maybe that's the end of the spirealm JUST KIDDING, we still haven't gotten to the part where they're on either side of a different door wailing at each other. i really need lin qiushi to stop being such a cheery equanimous little frat boy and START SUFFERING, can we get some mutual pining up in this bitch. (also i need his hair to change in the traditional BL post-wedding hairstyle alteration because i can't remember at this point if huang junjie even HAS a forehead under that vast curtain of bangs)

to sum up, we've had a) sexy handfeeding of lychees b) tender cat fur removal from face and c) stalking your pretty boyfriend aggressively against the wall so you can…offer him a packet of disinfectant. in the novel of course nanzhu bites him and yes xia zhiguang absolutely knows that's what he's supposed to be doing here, we love to see it.

oh and also d) "i'll protect you. i'll protect you forever."

SOON: THE THRILLING CONCLUSION. IT'LL BE SO FUCKING SAD. PS unrelated to any of this but the OST SLAPS and i sing along every time now, that opening song is an unskippable cut scene of a banger

PS gonna be sad when [redacted] dies, he's a real card. and that other person dies too. and that third person. shit it's about to get messy

[sitp-recs]

hey!!!

absolutely love love love your recs you are such an amazing human being <3333 i was wondering if you had any recs for drarry in america? i hope you have a great day!! <3

Thank you so much for the lovely message ❤️ I definitely have some recs for you, love this theme. Enjoy!!

Between the Power Lines by @tackytigerfic (M, 3k)

For Harry Potter, all roads eventually lead to Draco Malfoy.

Spooked in Salem by @xanthippe74 (T, 3.4k)

When his holiday with Draco in Salem, Massachusetts, doesn’t go to plan, Harry takes a walk to figure things out. A story about saving someone you love from the ghosts that don’t go bump in the night.

like freedom by softlystarstruck (M, 4k)

Harry doesn’t know the exact moment his life changed. Maybe it was the day Draco Malfoy unwillingly turned up at his front door, or the moment the plane’s landing gear went up and London-Heathrow fell away below them. Maybe it was in the dusty swirl of red rocks and motel rooms somewhere between Tennessee and California.

Nothing Left to Burn by @skeptiquewrites (E, 5k)

Over ten years after their fling crashed and burned, Harry runs into Draco and finds embers still burning bright. Sometimes your ex-lover is (metaphorically) dead. And sometimes it's summertime in Montreal and the past won't let go.

Inside These Walls by RenVeree (M, 5.6k)

The year before Draco moves to Los Angeles, Harry Potter disappears. Draco doesn't mean to find him. He's just doing his job.

in a rambling way by @fw00shy (T, 7.5k)

Ron knocked Hermione up, and now Harry's got to figure out how to clone himself so that his friends don't split up fighting over him. Falling for Draco again was never part of the plan.

in between two tall mountains (there's a place they call lonesome) by @oknowkiss (E, 8k)

In the shadow of a mountain on the Oregon coast, there may or may not lie a shipwreck, on which there may or may not be a magical relic, lost hundreds of years ago. Harry's been tasked with finding it, and Draco is there to take notes, and they're stuck in a campervan pretending to be married, and it's all going to be just fine. That's what Draco's gotten rather good at telling himself, anyway.

Look For Me In The Sun by @wolfpants (M, 9k)

Harry and Draco are on the run in America after a mysterious string of werewolf-like attacks in the Muggle community causes the Ministry to impose new and harsh anti-werewolf legislation. Giant trees, crashing waves, seedy motel rooms, and the long and winding coastal road awaits them, but will they ever be able to go back home?

The Hardest Hue To Hold by @cavendishbutterfly (M, 17k)

Harry needs to get the hell out of England. So he sets up a teaching assistantship in America, hops on a plane, and heads off to a fresh start. Except there’s a familiar face among the university faculty, and it’s really not the familiar face that Harry wanted. Or at least, it’s not who Harry wanted at first.

To Live & Die in LA by @fw00shy (E, 28k)

Someone blackmailed Pansy Parkinson. Pansy's father hires Harry Potter, P.I., to get to the bottom of the scam. But how is Harry's errant ex-boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, involved? And why did Draco run to Los Angeles in the first place?

Faint Indirections by ignatiustrout (T, 30k)

Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he's here, and he won't stop requesting books from the library where Harry works.

LA, Who Am I To Love You? by @epitomereally (E, 42k)

Harry’s summer in LA is not going as expected. Pansy Parkinson keeps inviting him to parties in the Hollywood Hills and harassing him to finally go to the physical therapist, Blaise Zabini keeps slipping new strains of his company’s magical weed into Harry’s pockets in hopes of an endorsement, and Draco Malfoy keeps having sex with everyone but Harry.

Unseen by RenVeree (T, 47k)

Harry Potter finally has the chance to leave England and its expectations for The Chosen One behind for good. All he has to do is survive one Auror training conference overseas with Draco Sodding Malfoy.

Antediluvia by @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 56k)

Everyone always forgets about the Merpeople. So did Harry until the day his, Lee’s, and Hermione’s Portkeys land at Reagan National Airport’s Arrivals dais. He’s just had to leave a job he loves and pack his entire life—literally—into his luggage. Then Malfoy and his subplots arrive, and suddenly, saving the world again, one Mermaid at a time, sounds like the perfect excuse to do something he’s always wanted. The one with mermaids and DC.

Among Ancient Pines by @graymatters (M, 74k)

A fic about challenging assumptions, discovering self-worth, the silver lining in failing to meet expectations, and finding friendship, love, and purpose in a small Alaskan town that’s steeped in magic.

Knead by laughingd0g (E, 83k)

This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

Left My Heart by emmagrant01 (E, 85k)

Auror Draco Malfoy has disappeared, and Harry Potter has been sent to San Francisco to find him.

Way Down We Go by @xiaq (T, 109k)

In which Harry and Draco both run away from their pasts and conveniently choose to hide in the same tiny American town. It's super.

[patchworkorphan]

Heroic Betrayal - Part five

Read part one here

Continued from this part here

*~*~*~*~*

What kind of idiot were they to be stuck here? Hero should have told Sidekick when they got the tip about Villain… they should have told them that they were going to rough Villain up a bit, get the information they needed on Other Villain’s whereabouts and beat the shit out of them. Just a little revenge for touching a hair on Sidekick’s innocent head.

Even if they managed to catch Villain and mete out justice on Other Villain, they would have beaten the ever-living shit out of the wrong person, and that was something Hero didn’t want to think about in that moment.

That Flynn…

Their Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the med bay.

Sidekick, who was still in the med bay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead, they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

Hero didn’t know how long they sat and stewed on that thought. Long enough that their nose stopped bleeding anyway. Hero tentatively reached up to their upper lip, their hand came away from it dry, the blood caked and flaked onto their face now.

“What happened to your face?” Hero angled their head down from where they stared at the ceiling to see Flynn standing on the other side of the cell bars.

“Fuck off, Red,” Hero grumbled, and fought the wince at their casual nickname for Flynn slipping out of their lips. “I’m not in the mood.”

A jangle of keys and the cell door was open, footsteps approaching Hero in their cot in the corner. Hero’s heart ached with every beat as Flynn came into their line of sight, concern drawing their features together.

How many times had they seen that same concern on his face? Told Hero it was going to be okay. Cleaned their wounds, laughed about the bruises the next day?

How much of it was a lie? — Hero wanted to ask. The question burned a hole on the tip of their tongue, but they didn’t dare speak it. They just stared up at the ceiling as best they could.

“What? You piss someone off already?”

Hero sighed. Flynn sat on the edge of the bed, moving closer to Hero hands going to inspect the damage. Hero slapped their hands away, tears burning in the back of their eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Flynn,” Hero bit out. “You don’t get to betray me and then pretend to be my friend and concerned about me.”

Flynn stared; eyes sad as he said: “okay. Guess I deserve that.”

“You deserve so much more,” Hero said, eyes burning with hatred, voice barely above a whisper. “How many of our friends died because of you? Hmm?”

“Hero, not all of it–” Flynn began then stopped, huffed out a breath of air through his nose, hand running through his hair. “Not all of it was a lie. I am your friend. I do care about you.”

“Oh really? Then you’d never use your power on me, right?” Hero demanded, echoing back Flynn’s words against him. Flynn had the audacity to even look guilty at that, and Hero leaned forwards, hands on Flynn’s as they said: “I forgive you, okay. I forgive you if you let me go. Flynn, please.”

Flynn’s eyebrows knit together, clearly conflicted but he said nothing. After a moment, Hero let out a breath of disbelief and sat back against the wall again.

“Yeah,” Hero scoffed, “we’re friends.”

“You have blood all over your face, Hero. You really want to just leave it?”

“Why the hell not?” Hero said, trying to force their tone into some form of neutrality.

Flynn sighed and stood up from the cot. “Supervillain wants an audience with you. I was sent to retrieve you.”

Hero rolled their eyes but got to their feet no less. “Of course,” they said, pushing past Flynn to the door. “God help you actually wanted to see how I was doing.”

“Hero—”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Let’s just go.”

“Hero that’s not—”

Before they could get the fourth word out, Hero had whirled on them eyes blazing hotter than any hells furnace.

“Fair?!” They asked incredulously, their voice jumping two pitches at the sheer audacity of the word on their lips. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Flynn didn’t back down this time. Instead they stepped forward, looking down their nose at Hero.

“Yes. That is what I was going to say.”

“You are unbelievable!” Hero snapped matching Flynn with a step forward of their own. They held their cuffed hands up in Flynn’s face as if to remind him exactly why Hero was there in the first place. “If you’re my friend you’ll take these off.”

“Hero you know I can’t—”

Hero didn’t let him finish. Instead they placed their palms on Flynn’s chest and shoved them as hard as they could. Flynn looked about as bothered as if a fly had flown into the room.

“I can’t uncuff you Hero,” Hero said, lowering their voice to mimic Flynn’s and shoving him back again. “I can’t let you go Hero.” And again. “I can’t fucking think—” shove “for myself” shove “Hero.”

Hero glared up at Flynn trying to fight back the frustrated tears building behind her eyes. Anger was easier to focus on in the moment rather than that vast aching pit twisting uncomfortably in their gut.

“But I promise I’m your friend, Hero,” Hero mocked, shoving him back again until Flynn’s back hit off the wall. Flynn’s eyebrows curved down and it left a pang in Hero’s chest that they hated. “And then you have the gall to look hurt. As if I betrayed you.”

Hero ignored the tears that fell at the last sentence, or at least tried to. They tried to be firm and act tough, but saying the betrayal out loud, acknowledging it when it was just the two of them was too much.

“Would you trust me if the roles were reversed?” Hero asked, not even wanting to look at Flynn for the answer. The more they saw the conflict on his face the harder it was to hate him. Flynn however, didn’t take this into consideration when he put his hand on Hero’s face and tilted it back to face him.

Hero narrowed their eyes at him, pushing every ounce of anger into their gaze hoping they would turn into actual daggers and stab him.

“No,” Flynn breathed softly, thumb wiping away the tear streaks from Hero’s face. “I wouldn’t trust you if the roles were reversed, but I would hear you out of you tried to explain it to me.”

“And if I took you to Supervillain?!” Hero asked, their voice low and furious as they stepped out of Flynn’s touch. “The enemy we’ve been trying to stop for months?”

“You.”

“What?!” Hero demanded hotly.

Flynn’s gaze had hardened, his face devoid of all emotion now except for his usual mask of easy confidence, smirk on his lips as if he didn’t just wipe Hero’s tears away.

“The enemy you’ve been trying to stop for months,” Flynn said again taking a step forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Hero matched it with one back, cautious, hackles raised. “I mean the man you borderline obsessed over, Hero. Don’t you want to meet the genius who eluded you, the great detective, for all that time?”

“Not particularly,” Hero said through gritted teeth, with another step back that Flynn matched, getting closer and closer each time.

“That’s what you called him though, right? A genius,” Flynn teased, his grin showing his teeth. “I mean, fuck, Hero some of the moves he made you were damn right impressed with. You even said you’d have done exactly the same thing if—”

“I was in his position,” Hero cut Flynn off. Flynn’s smirk grew wider as he took another step closer, dipping his head conspiratorially.

“Now you can be,” said Flynn with a wide gesture of his hands. Hero followed his hand to the cell door that they happened to be right beside. Hero was keenly aware that Flynn was backing them towards the door the whole time. “Even just for the intellectual stimulation if nothing else.”

“Go fuck yourself, Flynn. I’m not willingly walking into the Lion’s den.”

Flynn’s eyelids fell half over his eyes. “It is less dignified to be dragged, Hero, but if you insist.”

Flynn made a grab for Hero’s arm but they dodged at the last minute, turning to shoulder Flynn out of the way. Flynn didn’t so much as budge from their spot. Instead he caught Hero by the strap of their scabbard and yanked them into Flynn’s chest.

“The hard way, wonderful. I wouldn’t expect any less of you Hero,” Flynn said, wrapping an arm over Hero's chest and keeping them close as they stepped out of the cell, pushing Hero forward with their own body weight. “Let's go introduce you to Supervillain.”

*~*~*~*~*

The Orphanage, or, the tag-list: @princess-bubble-blossom @morning-star-whump

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep3 Musings - Loumand

Last post, I promise; I needed another nap; this ep's a freaking rollercoaster. And these two queens nearly gave me a stress ulcer!

DEBATABLE, Louis. I can think of FAR worse vamps than you, love.

Why're y'all having this whole conversation where anyone can hear?

They got Sartre's wall-eyes down; good makeup this season, team! 👌

DreamStat's a Loumand bed-death truther, jfc. 😭

I wanna know EXACTLY what Armand sees--or "feels"--whenever DreamStat pops up in Lou's head. Cuz he clearly knows precisely where Les is; he looks right in his direction. But does he HEAR Les too? (God I hope not, this song would've had me SEETHING--Back to Hell with you! 😅)

"Oh dear" indeed; I was HOLLERING.

SAM WAS DEVOURING THIS SCENE HOLY GOD GO AWAY DEMON

Armand looked PISSED, I was scared for Louis' life! And he DOES know, actually, yes Lou. I can almost GUARANTEE that he knows PRECISELY where Lestat is AT THIS VERY MOMENT, yes Lou.

If only you knew.... 😬

Claudia's suffered more than Christ. And nice cut to Daniel sneaking around with Raglan James as Armand talks about Furies punishing "human wrongdoing." It's really interesting that Armand told the lawyer that LOUIS is the owner of the paintings. Is he the owner of the penthouse too? HOW MANY DEEDS DOES HE HAVE, ROLIN?

I wonder what AMC might be saying about Loumand's art collection, not just wrt what we know about art heist!Armand (which we'll likely see a nod to in Ep4 at the Louvre); but also wrt what we know about Dubai's godawful neocapitalist hellscape economy, and Loumand's "moralizing" about Parisian black markets in S01E02.

I wonder if that's the excuse Armand'll give the coven when Louis shows up for dinner in Ep4--very much NOT dead; and rips out Santiago's tongue.

WILD voice-over, cuz you KNOW that's what Santiago was thinking, too, LOL. (You wish, Francis.) But yes: Louis' finna end your whole career. XD

Another TERRIFYING jumpscare from the coven, like in Ep2 with Annika. Louis, I am shocked & appalled--can you not HEAR all these vamps planning your bloody murder around you? CLAUDIA! WTF!?

But this is how you know Armand's true personality--he hates getting his hands dirty. He kills all the time, but he makes his victims' deaths pretty. He'd rather sit back & let Lestat/Louis come in and wreck his whole coven, even though he has the power to just light those mofos up all on his own! I wish AMC emphasized a bit more that Armand not only writes/directs the plays--he's an ACTOR, too. And istg he's an expert at PRETENDING to be helpless, meanwhile he's the strongest vamp that's NOT one of the Children of the Millennia (thanks to how well Marius made him).

Armand, that is LOW; waiting until Claudia's stuck under the oaths b4 you tell her she's guilty of breaking Great Laws she doesn't even know about yet. WTF?

How TF you gon' hold Louis accountable for following the Laws when he wasn't even allowed to be in the effing room when they were read!? He's not even a member! WTF! (I get it--any rogue vampires are subject to death, yadayada; we know it's a stupid policy.)

I love how he plans to leave by himself here--it had nothing to do with picking "another one" over Claudia. He just didn't want to hold her back anymore. And his presence was causing problems. 😭 It's so cute that Louis' stipulation about London was that if it's "too large" he'd leave and go to Ireland (?!?)--he's become agoraphobic or something? He just wants to be alone in his hermit hole--MOOD. 😭

Good to get confirmation that the Fire Gift here is Armand and blessedly NOT Santiago--so why's he zooming around in the sewers?

Look, sometimes folks make terrible first impressions--Lestat was being hella racist, Louis' always playing defense, Armand was finna kill Louis in a gay public park. It happens.

Foreshadowing like crazy, as usual.

WILD thing to say. I'm gonna cry, please stop.

(What kinda hypocrisy is that, when you were made young your dang self!?) She's already 30+ years old--maybe she'll last a little longer if y'all (read: sexist, racist, ageist, ableist, etc society) don't eff around tryna make her life even harder! But AMC's deliberately cutting Claudia's life in half, compared to the books, cuz misogynoir's real and Claudia gets NOTHING out of vampirism, not even a fair chance. And y'all let her into the coven KNOWING how much she loves y'all, and KNOWING y'all were gonna kill her. EFF THIS WHOLE COVEN, ARMAND INCLUDED. (Lemme calm down--this kind of betrayal is exactly how Lestat must've felt in S01E07; I get it; they're getting a taste of their own medicine. But LESTAT EFFING HAD IT COMING. The coven should've just told them: y'all got til sunrise to GTFO our territory, you're not welcome here. This whole bit's unnecessary.)

THE PARALLELS ARE PARALLELING

SKILL ISSUE. Cuz Louis' got the least power, and he's finna clear that whole bish out in just a couple episodes. 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Louis, love, ARMAND DON'T GIVE A EFF ABOUT RAISING SOME OTHER MAN'S OFFSPRING. This is the call of the wild, as Alphas KILL the children their stolen Omega brides had for other Alphas/Betas, so he can restart the gene pool with HIS DNA instead. I know y'all had National Geographic back then already--READ A BOOK, Louis, it's what you're best at.

Incredible. After all of that Louis said Lestat never broke him. BENT BUT NEVER BROKEN, that's right! 💪😤

Boy, we're not talking about some little (unrequited) CRUSH over a man you only knew for a few months (which you've CLEARLY not gotten over yet). Louis was MARRIED to the man for 30 YEARS. This is his MAKER. Lestat knew his whole family; went to the Black cookouts and everything! They literally built a home AND business together! They raised a child together! WHATCHU KNOW ABOUT THAT!?

And that's LESTAT'S DAUGHTER TOO--how much can you possibly love EITHER of them while planning to knock her off!? I can't listen to too much more of this. *hands Louis the torch and scythe*

Beautiful end of this STACKED episode. Incredible work, AMC! Jacob acted his PANTS off; he excels at the trembling voice, agonized facial expressions, and utter mental breakdowns. He's pulling DEEP within him, holy god; it's so raw, it's almost hard to watch. EMMY WHEN?!

[maxwell-grant]

Glad to know you like suicide squad, did you ever finish reading JLI?

I have a lot of respect and love for the creative team but, sorry to dissappoint, I found JLI fucking unbearable and could not finish it. I gave it 25 issues and powered through after dropping it and didn't enjoy one single moment of it and I don't think this is magically going to become tolerable when it's time to bring in Despero and the Global Guardians and the character with a slur for a name. I guess I could say it was a good comic of it's time that I just didn't vibe with and leave it at that, or I'd say I think the humor drags down the good parts, but to be honest I'm just not seeing the good parts here either. The best things I can say about it is that it's well-drawn and that Max Lord is a decently compelling puzzle/central figure to pin this enterprise on, a twist on Ozymandias for a different context, I get why fans are upset on him being turned into a clear-cut villain, although Amanda Waller he ain't. And of what I've seen that's kinda it actually.

It is kind of weird that this exists in an opposite world situation to Suicide Squad, where Suicide Squad is the more traditionally-drawn book about rejects banding together under hardship to deal with troubled international quagmires and find their own bonds to humanity and each other amidst chaos, and Justice League is the slick colorful book about rejects being funnyman bastards doing violent pantomine routines 24/7. You'd think it was the other way around. You'd think Guy Gardner wouldn't be more unbearable than Captain Boomerang given he is technically a more moral person, but when Boomerang's being misogynistic, he eats shit for it, where as when Gardner pretends to fall atop Canary so he can grope her, it's played as a gag (and god you could not ask for a starker difference than the treatment of their female characters between these two books). But as is, I am not remotely impressed by characters acting like funnyman bastards for 90% of any given story, and then punctuating their moments of seriousness by constantly reafffirming that they aren't one-bit jokesters.

Did you catch that the first time? Can't you see how they are more than just funny jokesters, let's repeat that again for emphasis, don't you get the nuance on display here, don't you get there is more to Blue Beetle and Guy Gardner than being unbearable pieces of shit, in case you don't let's have Hawkman's every single goddamn line be about how he's a big old stuck-up meanie harping about the old days who is wrong for not accepting the new way of doing things (and please do not take this as me being upset about the sanctity of fucking Hawkman, it's just one more horribly grating thing in a comic full of them). I get why these characters have big followings, but I'm at a loss to understand why said followings would originate from this, it seems like all of them surely must have acquired whatever nuance or likeability they have later.

You know that thing people complain about regarding vapid cliche lines like Well that just happened / It's not what it looks like / That's gonna leave a mark / Uum he's right behind me isn't he, that kind of stuff? JLI feels like the birth of those, it feels like the real version of the thing that people who exaggerate MCU quips complain about, because oh my god every fucking page is littered with those, they can't get through anything without doing an insufferable bit. Every character is the suffering straight man or trying to be the funniest person in the room in an interminable Mad Magazine skit. They never shut up and never stop making jokes and they NEVER make a single one of them funny and everybody talks the same, everyone makes the same jokes, everybody has one trait and that's their joke, and my god you guys I gave this thing 25 damn issues of a chance and I hate even thinking about it, and if a single one of you tries to get me to read one more comic with G'nort in it I swear I'm going to -

So, yeah, wasn't for me. Credit where credit's due though, the one funny joke I've seen in this constitutes an all-timer Batman moment.

[wetcatspellcaster]

First of all, thank you so much for all you do! Your work has gotten me through a really rough few weeks dealing with the first anniversary of my mom's death. I'm so excited every time I get an ao3 notification for one of your stories. ❤️

Also I'm a huge Buffy fan and your Ascended Astarion has such presouled-but-in-love-with-buffy Spike vibes I love it. Especially his not understanding why his super romantic gestures of murder and abduction are not working on the object of his affections. I love how frustrated and baffled Astarion is by Rose's refusals. "These things are the *height* of vampire wooing? how's she not swooning?? She must be playing hard to get."

Also every time they get into a physical altercation, it absolutely feels like it may end in building destroying sex. 😏

I did have a question about Astarion's expectations about Rose (which feel free not to answer if its spoilers or you dont feel like it). I know he dumped her after she wouldn't be turned by him post ritual but it seems like he's definitely spent years getting things ready to have her living with him since then with the custom bedrooms and the rose gardens. Did he expect her to come back on her own since then? even after telling her he basically wanted nothing to do with her?

Anyway this was long 😅 but thanks again for sharing your talent and imagination with us. good luck with your surgery! ❤️

Hello anon, thank you so much for messaging me. I use fic writing as a mental health lifeline (and guess what! I have also bereaved a parent in my time!) so I'm glad I can pay that comfort forward to you and anyone else, in some small form. I hope the anniversary and any related feelings that come up pass smoothly.

(also, Ascendent/Spike parallels are such a call out at the particular moment I am in drafting. I think my approach to souls in D&D is very coloured by what meaning they hold in BtVS).

To your question! I'll try to answer as best I can.

The initial reaction and break up is obvious dictated a little by canon, but in my version of events, it's also coloured by the violent/traumatic nature of the Ascendent's 'birth'. On the one hand, Ascended!Astarion is drunk on power and his first real sense of freedom, but on the other, it has come at a dramatic and awful cost that everyone around him witnessed and cannot deny. Also, not to spoil, but I have aligned my reading of the events with the fanon interpretation that a romanced Astarion justifies his desire for Ascendency through Tav, or fear of losing that relationship. So Rose's initial rejection causes a lot of anger and deliberate cruelty, because of the confusion and pain behind it: he did the Rite, partly for her, Rosalie watched him do the Rite and didn't stop him, and now? she's suddenly having second thoughts? When it's irreversible? When he's stuck here, now? And she refuses keep him company?

The anger and pain around that was real, I believe, and causes him to lash out. Hence, the break-up. Much with the way I write the Ascendent in all guises, he does an extremely stupid thing, then commits to the bit and doubles down. Oh, he's dumped her now? He kind of didn't mean to do that, but now he can't be desperate and take it back, so he has to lean in and pretend that was what intended to do all along, etc.

Then she leaves for real? Well, fuck her. He didn't need her anyway - that's why he dumped her, after all. Nothing to do with the trauma, or his mistakes. So then, he commits to the bit, twicefold. He leans in further. Starts to perform the exact life he'd said he'd have without her. Gets new friends, new lovers, an underground network of power, etc. That takes a few years.

Oh. Wait. Why does none of this feel good? Why does it all feel awful???Must be because his girlfriend, the one he did this all for, isn't here (and who's fault was that again? by this point, he's forgotten).

But pride is still a major factor in the way the Ascendent conducts himself, and he can't go to her - he can't look desperate, or unhappy, or like he regrets his decisions. I've used this in a justification of why he never sought her out in places he couldn't pretend he found her by chance, even though he can smell her blood and knows she goes to Waterdeep - he can't be the one to go to her. And she must be miserable, right? He is. So he starts to engineer things for her return, because she'll be the one to cave first, and besides, he's got eternity anyway. He's so patient (lol).

And then, inevitably, when Rosalie continues living her life avoiding him, he's like "welp. I can't go to her (pride), and she isn't coming to me. Time to make her come to me (murderous intent)" and that's how he kills a ballroom full of people. He genuinely thinks what's keeping them apart is the distance, not the element of choice (because. um. we've seen what he thinks of free will). He believes that once they're in the same room together, it'll be impossible for her to resist. He can charm her. He did it once before. And he's not sad or conflicted about it this time. And he's the same person, right?

[author laughs in REDACTED]

So basically, his expectation of Rose was that she would be the one to break first. They both love each other, and she's a nice person. She's the bleeding heart. She's the one who was seduced the first time round.

When none of that happens, he decides to engineer the same set of circumstances in a lab, assuming that forcing her into returning will have the same outcome as her choosing to return (you may notice a pattern of behaviour emerging). So once the Ascendent has created forced proximity and given himself the chance to seduce Tav all over again, he's certain he'll win, because he knows the playbook, and it worked on them, and since he Ascended he's had proof it works on everyone else.

But unfortunately, a successful romance in this scenario relies on Ascended!Astarion not being awful, for 5 minutes which... um.... he hasn't achieved once in this fic, not once.

[mandatory-blog-stop-asking]

"X People Can't Shoot Laser Beams!"

Hey so I've been seeing a lot of people, now that X-Men Is Hot Again, coming to the conclusion that "X-Men doesn't work as a metaphor for marginalized communities because gay people can't shoot laser beams, so it doesn't hit for me". Do not get me wrong -- people have been coming to that conclusion since 1963. It's nothing new. And, it's great that you're engaging with it! Stories are meant to bring about thoughts and be controversial. But I need you to understand that's already text.

That's not something the stories pretend isn't the case, or something that authors are afraid people will bring up to nullify their experiences with the work -- trust me, the X-Men know, in-universe, that they're not just a harmless ethnic minority.

If you are stuck with "Gay people don't shoot laser beams", please, I am just asking you to keep going one single step and then go "But even if they did, we probably shouldn't genocide them."

Like, this is the crucial thing that I see people who stop conversations about X-Men with "It's a bad metaphor" never engage with. Yes, Cyclops should be held accountable for his powers in a public setting, no one is pretending he shouldn't-- but that's not the point. That's not who suffers the most.

The point is that just because that's the case, mutant children shouldn't die in their homes. Mutant pregnant women shouldn't be told hospitals don't do mutant pregnancies by default. Mutant children shouldn't be barred from schools. Mutant elderly shouldn't be denied access to healthcare.

Just because you're afraid of some people, it doesn't mean people from their group are not people. You do not get to umbrella an entire group connected by genetics and say they all deserve to die just because you're afraid of a few of them.

Of fucking course you should be afraid of Magneto, Professor X, the Phoenix and Quentin Quire. You should also be afraid of anyone who holds nukes, anyone with that much inherited wealth and social standing on birth alone, anyone who doesn't have control of themselves all the time and has hurt others during episodes, and any incels with access to weapons. That doesn't actually have anything to do with them being mutants; that has everything to do with their lives and what they do with their time. Them being mutants just informs the ways they can hurt you, but everyone can hurt you.

A child like Leech didn't deserve to get exploded by a machine just because people are afraid of Wolverine's claws. Stopping the thought at "well Black people can't kill you with a thought" robs the story of the actual point. My man, even if Black people could kill you with a thought, a government-sponsored apartheid state that invades other countries to kill and capture people would still be horrendous.

I am begging you to read these stories not as just a superficial insert-your-favorite-group here allegory, but also as an exploration of how easy it is to get people to agree with villains. How easy it is to manipulate populations, or to sell you on things you would never really agree with in other situations, even highly politicized people who see stories as extensions of their beliefs.

To imply the story doesn't engage with that is to give up without getting to the point.

The messy conversations about power, about community, about responsibility, about leaders who fail and problems with movements that have some points but fail in several ways is valid, and it is there for you to engage with. There's no X-Men story that would genuinely stare you in the eye and tell you "Magneto is not scary."

Of course he's scary. But he's not attacking you because he's a mutant. He's attacking you because he's being persecuted. You shouldn't persecute people on the off-chance one of them will do something to you just because they're born different.

But, yes, Jews can't shoot laser beams. At least not usually. That's true, and thus, X-Men is not 100% about oppressed groups in real life.

It's also a very boring take, dude, like, come on. The thought is incomplete. Please complete it.

[scribeforchrist-blog]

Flawed Clay

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

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+ Proverbs 14:16 One who is wise is cautious and turns away from evil, but a fool is reckless and careless.

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VERSE OF THE DAY

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+ Jeremiah 18:4 But the jar that he was making from the clay became flawed in the potter’s hand, so he made it into another jar, as it seemed right for him to do.

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

I AM A CLAY

I AM HIS CREATION

I AM OBEYING

I AM LOVING

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READ TIME: 7 Minutes & 24 Seconds

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THOUGHTS:

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  Sometimes, what happens in life is that we try to make our path and do what we feel is necessary, but God knows what is necessary. He knows what is right, and we can pretend as we do; God doesn’t give up; no matter how many times I have messed up, God has stuck with me , just like my parents I might’ve felt they left me stuck in some situations that I was going through , I might’ve felt they didn’t do their best, but they did , that’s just like God he sticks with us no matter what and he’s always doing his best for our lives , we might’ve think he left us in whatever situation we are in but we just have to stop and see that, he never did , leave we do when things aren’t going are way. Some of us are so easily to dismiss his presence because we are to busy for him but he’s never to busy for us because we are His.

  2 Corinthians 4:7-9 But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. 8 We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; 9 persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed

  We are jars of clay, and God keeps Christ's glory inside. God could’ve easily put Christ's glory in something less fragile, but he decided to do this with us; we might be afflicted in every way, but we aren’t crushed, we might be perplexed but not despaired, and we might go through, but we aren’t forsaken, and we might feel struck down, but we won’t be destroyed , we must remember that whatever we go through we have Christ glory living in us and we can conquer anything, as long as we stay focused on God.

   In this verse, the Holy Spirit is trying to show us that we all are flawed and must return to the potter's hands. It’s the only way to be changed; we must accept the task and not deny the path he's created for us.

   Romans 9:20 On the contrary, who are you, a human being, to talk back to God? Will what is formed say to the one who formed it, “Why did you make me like this?”

   This is what some of us do immediately when something goes wrong. We are quick to ask God, why didn’t you do this or Why didn't you do that, and we shake our fists at him in anger; how dare we get this angry with God and expect him to do what we say we have to realize that he is God and whatever happens in our life, it happens for a reason , God is sovereign.

   Verse 22 And what if God, wanting to display his wrath and to make his power known, endured with much patience objects of wrath prepared for destruction?

  This goes back to the first part of this devotional: God is so powerful. He can do whatever He wants to do with and towards us because He is God. Still, at every turn, he always displays grace, and maybe we might say that’s not what he is trying to give us, and a lot of times, we don’t realize what he can do to us it can be worse than what we have.

WE HAVE TO stop looking at God as human. He is God alone. He does not have to do anything else. We must obey him and allow his glory to shine through our lives. Sometimes, we go through this because we lack gratitude to God. God is in control, but we might think we can bend his hand to get him to do it, but we can't. God is going to do what he wants at any given time.

 Micah 6:8 He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?

  The Lord requires us to do what is justice, love, be kind, and walk humbly with Him; that word humbly is something some of us lack because we feel we can do whatever we want, but it shows in this devotional today that we can’t. That we must do what he always wants. We are being shaped and molded every day in his ways; we try to do whatever the Israelites did and deny him that power, or we can allow his power in us, and allow him to reign in our heart and lives.

 ***Today, we learned about being molded. A lot of us are being rebellious with what he’s calling us to do because we feel that maybe we can do half of what he wants, but God is telling us that to do precisely what he wants, we must be humble, we must be patient in our journey with him. We can’t rush through the fiery trials or the complex parts of life, and most of all we must stay consistent.

Consistent in

*PRAYER

**WORSHIP

***READING OUR WORD

****MEDIATING

*****FASTING

Romans 5:8 But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

In Roman, it tells us that even in our ways, even while we were sinners, he loved us and died for us; we have people in our lives right now who will write us off and dismiss us if we don’t do what they want but not God he will never abandon us, he will give us space to let us do what we want, but he won’t leave us,

   God does everything he can to provide for us to ensure we are filled with joy, and humbly obey him through everything. When we say we are a child of God, we must do what he likes, and as we grow in him, we learn that his ways and his will are way better than what we want to do. Even though we are flawed, God still wants to mold us into perfection through the circumstances we face, and those circumstances could be hard, but he’s there, life can be tough and situations can make it even tougher. Whatever we go through don’t allow the enemy or people the enemy use to make you feel God has forsaken you he haven’t . He’s not giving up on you don’t give up on him !

 ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

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PRAYER

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Heavenly Father, help us to be more like you; help us to understand through our flaws and through you molding us that you love us and that what we go through is for your Glory. Forgive us of the sins we did, and help us to love and be obedient in your will for us; sometimes, lord, it’s hard for us to pray because we have so much on our minds, but we ask you to clear our minds and fill it with peace, help us to worship you in spirit and truth in Jesus Name Amen

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REFERENCES

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+ 2 Timothy 3:16 All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and training in righteousness,

 

+ Matthew 28:20 Teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

 

+ Galatians 1:4 Who gave himself for our sins to deliver us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father,

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FURTHER READINGS

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Proverbs 25

Leviticus 25

Deuteronomy 29

Psalm 137

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[the-wayside]

After the great fail of OneDrive, I've not been up to having rewrite work I've already done once before so I started a writing exercise. Write some words for any concept that I'd like to tackle. In true Way fashion, it has...grown.

So, here is about 700 words of about 5k. M for language and implications of future dubcon (A/B/O dynamics [A!K and O!P]). Marriage of convenience. Just for interest, in this universe, the wolves do descend from Gaelic roots as wolves as we know them don't exist in Thailand and hence the familiarity with (summer) Beltane (and Bel) as well as the hunt (Cernunnos). Not that it matters at all as it's more the basis for events rather than a huge mythos piece.

Porsche has been dreading his last wedding celebration with an itch in his canines to rip into everyone and everything. A marriage of convenience, they said. Whose? Definitely not his. Not his husband who comes home smelling of other more obliging omegas. Despite coming so far into the 21st century, some wolves refuse to let go of their traditions and their base instincts. Families bred for power over a true desire to bond. No, this was a marriage of necessity. One he instigated but the further it progresses the more he understands how poor a decision that was.

“We’ll drive out to the campsite before sunset,” Kinn tells him in the sunroom downstairs over coffee and an assortment of breakfast foods.

The only comfort he has is the sickening twist that Kinn looks just as uncomfortable as he feels. All the preparations, the parties and the egregious handholding, were scheduled so that their last feast and hunt would fall on the first day of May, coinciding with their prayers to their ancestral gods Bel and Cernunnos for a hearty bounty in the coming year. Since his new husband doesn’t farm, the bounty they wish for is for a healthy pup inside him. All things befitting a marriage not as doomed as theirs.

Fuck if I let him touch me. Porsche grunts and pushes melon around his plate with a fork. Kinn folds up his napkin and puts it over the top of his plate, pushing back his chair to stand and rebutton his suit jacket. Today’s is different from yesterday's and the days before that. Porsche is sure Kinn has more suits than he has underwear.

“One more night and we can be done with each other,” Kinn says quietly.

“You can be done with me,” Porsche says as he tips his head up to look at Kinn, “You can do whatever you want. Me, I’m stuck with you.”

Kinn searches his face and Porsche fights to keep his face passive and not scowl. In another time, another world, he might have found Kinn attractive.

“You’ve made that clear.”

Porsche narrows his eyes because he doesn’t understand the tone, “Am I wrong?”

It’s the one concession he can make. The day Kinn put the gold wedding band on his finger, he should have placed a corresponding bite on his nape���but he didn’t. The moment he does, Porsche’s future dies with him. All Porsche’s heats are Kinn’s heats; his children are Kinn’s. Less than a slave, he’s a vessel for someone else’s desires.

“You know where the door is,” Kinn stares at him, giving him a hard look and Porsche sighs and leans back in his chair. Everything his family received; the money, the protection, the status in the pack, all disappears.

“Don’t expect me to slick my asshole for you,” Porsche knows he’s being vulgar and Kinn flinches in the way Porsche has come to know him to. His face doesn’t move but his eyes flicker, almost as if his wolf answers Porsche’s anger rather than the man. “Don’t expect to get anywhere near me.”

Porsche realizes that maybe he has pushed too far because Kinn leans down, hand on the table, “If you really thought you stood a chance, you’d have stopped taking those extra strong suppressants.”

Just because he realizes, doesn’t mean he can stop himself: “Sorry if I don’t want the stench of you following me around while I’m trying to eat.”

Kinn leans back and stands up again, “Pretend all you want. You signed yourself up for the task and refused the exit. Your asshole, anyway it comes, is mine.”

Porsche is practically seething and Kinn adjusts his cufflinks, "You'll prepare yourself as you're expected to and we will act out this farce."

"Why are you doing this?" Porsche can't help but ask.

"You asked for my help, not my reasoning," Kinn turns and proceeds to the dining room door before disappearing. Porsche watches him go and sighs, with relief or frustration, he isn't sure.

Marriage of convenience, marriage of the borderline insane, he decides and spears a piece of melon onto his fork before popping it into his mouth. What's done is done and Kinn, despite Porsche's recalcitrance, is right. Porsche chose this repeatedly in the last few weeks and now he has to pony up and deliver.

[inkvulture]

Tagged by the brilliant @rms-writes!

Find the phrase: "I miss you."

Your phrase: "Why now?" (Or any variation)

Forced to accept defeat, Dandy trudges her way back to the castle grounds in tears. She gasps, the cold air like knives in her lungs, guilt and grief and panic ballooning in her until there's no more space in her chest, until she's suffocating. She opens the back gate to the gardens with shaking hands and heads straight for the Silver Oak, the only tree for miles. The only friend for miles. "I-I'm stuck here," She wheezes, collapsing over the roots and pretending they're her father's lap. "I can't get out. What am I gonna do?" Lonineness bit at her heart as the question became not "when" but "if". How could such a simple word be so deeply terrifying? Two letters is all it takes to break someone. What an awful, awful world. "I want to go home." She whispers, squeezing her eyes shut and sending a quiet wish with her tears as they fall to the ground. "I just want to go home." She isn't sure if she's asleep or if she's just defeated, but eventually her heart slows down and the tears stop. The world softens a bit around her, and when she opens her eyes again, she's on the couch in the farmhouse. "Feel better?" Her father asks, coming around the corner from the kitchen. Dandy stares blankly at him. "Dad?" "Ah, well, no. I was able to attach myself to a strong memory of yours." The visage of her father shifts, briefly revealing a dark swirling form. "I hope you don't find it too presumptuous. I was only trying to help." Transfixed by the creature's benevolent presence, Dandy sits up and wipes her face with her sleeve. "Who are you, then?" "My name is Mora. Long ago, I was the ruler of this place. Now my people have forgotten me, and I lie here in my final resting place within the Silver Oak. Your magic has strengthened me somewhat, it seems." "Oh. Yeah, I've always been good with plants." She sniffs. "If I give you more of my magic, can you help me actually get home? I miss my parents and my bed and the family cow. I even miss Sophia." "If enough magic is brought to bear, it is possible that I may break free and assist you." Mora drops the mask of Dandy's father now, becoming instead a sweeping, person-like shape that billows like a drop of ink in water. They settle next to Dandy on the couch. "However, I do not believe that you possess such power. Alas, it is not possible for me to help you in such a way at the moment."

Tag list (no pressure, comment/ask if you want to be added!): @sarah-sandwich-writes , @kmlaney , @primroseprime2019