#unreliable author

[bootyshortsjacob]

Resident Evil

Clesker (Albert Wesker/Claire Redfield):

1. Whiskey Neat (04-13-24)

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Claire Redfield/Albert Wesker Additional Tags: S.T.A.R.S. (Resident Evil), Wall Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Alternate Universe, Aged-Up Character(s), Choking

Claire's back in town to visit her big brother, she can't drink so she takes a history lesson on the differences between a Whiskey neat and a whiskey shot. She doesn't have enough time to be savored, so she just gets taken quickly.

2. Dancing with the Devil (04-17-24)

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Claire Redfield/Albert Wesker Characters: Marvin Branagh, Chris Redfield (Resident Evil), Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Barry Burton, Joseph Frost Additional Tags: Mentioned Steve Burnside, S.T.A.R.S. (Resident Evil), Aged-Up Character(s), Older Man/Younger Woman, Alternate Universe, Desk Sex, Spanking, Porn With Plot, Size Difference, Possessive Albert Wesker

Secrets are uncovered when Claire visits her brother during her summer away from college. A huge fight leads to some time spent with Chris’ boss, who didn’t seem like anyone’s biggest fan at the moment. Claire didn’t realize how much she’d come to enjoy summers in Raccoon City, especially if Captain Wesker was around.

3. Show Some Leg (04-28-24)

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Rebecca Chambers/Billy Coen, Claire Redfield/Albert Wesker Characters: Rebecca Chambers, Billy Coen, Claire Redfield, Albert Wesker Additional Tags: Mildly Dubious Consent, Car Sex, Choking, Love Bites, Alternate Universe, Mentioned Chris Redfield (Resident Evil), Size Difference, Not much Billy & Rebecca Summary:

Claire’s Harley stalls and she’s a long way from Raccoon City. A familiar face stops, but she’s not getting anywhere unless she agrees to pay him back for the ride.

4. Truth or Dare (05-23-24)

Rating: Mature Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage Relationships: Claire Redfield/Albert Wesker Characters: Claire Redfield, Albert Wesker Additional Tags: Lap Sex, Cunnilingus, Smut, Size Difference, Office Party, Unsafe Sex, Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Truth or Dare, Ambiguous Age, Older Man/Younger Woman, Loss of Virginity Summary:

Claire and Wesker sneaks away from the RPD party to play a game of Truth or Dare.

5. Escape from Raccoon City (05-31-24) WIP

Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage Relationships: Claire Redfield/Albert Wesker Characters: Claire Redfield, Albert Wesker Additional Tags: Minor Annette Birkin/William Birkin, Minor Character(s), Mentioned Leon S. Kennedy, Mentioned Ada Wong, Mentioned Sherry Birkin, Game: Resident Evil 2 Remake (2019), Loss of Virginity, Rough Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Flirting, Teasing, Arguing, Sexual Tension, Canon-Typical Violence Summary:

What happened if Wesker went into Raccoon City to try and retrieve the G-Virus himself, but spends the day with his nemesis’ younger sister instead. Claire ran away from campus after hearing the news about Raccoon City and she has one goal in mind: Finding Chris.

But isn’t it weird that she was able to find Chris’ Boss, but not him?

[shadowofroses]

Damn that ask made me go look at my beginning chapter (only chapter so far) of Kingdom Crisis.

I'm giggle snorting. Small Excerpt I didn't get further than this (So far I've described like 5 worlds as stain glass previously including the YYH and Pokemon in this excerpt. Warning is Language. And Reader can hear the Narrator at times.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Huh…” you thought for a moment, you liked this one more than the other two. There was however a door. You ran over to it but it was locked, “Of fucking course…” a twinkling sound came from behind you and a small chest appeared. You turned to open it, and there was a key and a potion?

You ran over to the door, and shoved the key into the lock, the door opened, blinding you with bright light. Walking through you noticed a weird…classroom? Your hands entangled in your hair as you whined to yourself. “I’m too old for high school. Come on brain wake up, obviously this is a dream!” To the side you saw three teens just chilling and talking to each other, though you couldn’t hear them.  Rikku, Sora and Kairi. 

As you walked forward, and the three looked at you, Kairi flashed a smile, with a finger to her chin. “What’s more important to you? Being number one, Friendship, or material possessions?” 

You scratched your head, “Friendship. Other two are too superficial…”

“Huh, I didn’t expect that…” 

You twitched, “SAY WHAT?! DID YOU THINK I WOULD SAY ANYTHING ELSE?!” 

Rikku scoffed at your outburst, “Chill. She did nothing wrong. What are you so afraid of? Getting old, being different, or being indecisive?”

You blinked cause this was the most response you got out of anyone yet. “I guess being indecisive.”

“Well at least you didn’t say old. I’ll give you that much.” 

Sora flashed you a brilliant smile, "What do you want out of life? To see rare sights, Broaden your horizons or to be strong?” 

You felt yourself relax with him speaking. “I like learning so broadening horizons.”

Sora snorted, “And that is why the school environment was chosen for ya!”

“HEH?!” One blink and you were standing on another stained glass window, Baby form of Koenma of Yu Yu Hakusho, with the heads of the detectives around him. 

All around you Heartless appeared, they seemed like weak creatures, so you literally bapped them on the head as they came near you. After defeating the sixth Heartless a staircase appeared. You moved forward up the stairs, not noticing the steps disappearing behind you.

On the other side of the staircase was a stained glass floor decorated with Eevee and it’s Evolutions.  

“The closer you get to the light, the greater your shadow becomes…” 

For some reason this made you facepalm, “Does this guy think I’m an idiot? That’s just how light is…” You turned to look at your shadow, it slowly started to form into a three dimensional being. “EH?!” 

“But don’t be afraid.”

You twitched, “BITCH MY SHADOW IS ALIVE AND YOU TELL ME NOT TO BE AFRAID?!” The shadow transformed into the shape of a large Nomu only pitch black like the previous Heartless. Brain could been seen, causing you to pale, “BITCH I’M AFRAID!”

[mxystan]

taiwan travelogue by yang shuangzi tr. lin king is indeed an award-winning banger and perhaps the first time in my life i've ever felt vindicated for dual-wielding a novel with its english translation because the act of translation itself is such a big theme in the novel. big win for metafiction-obsessed himejin everywhere!!

[ilikerosesalot]

Thinking about this pure vanilla analysis I made while live reacting to jambound ch 18

[corsairspade]

every time i interact with the silmarillion i get weirdly excited about the fact that the authorial intent is that it's a translation of historical accounts. it's a tertiary source! none of it is first hand. it makes it so much more interesting. was the legendarium a mannish tradition? what parts of these were written by pengolodh? by rumil? what loremaster has recorded this? would there be bias in the accounting? can i trust what i'm reading, from this viewpoint, this many years after it would have been written?

what has been mythologised, what has been sanitised, what is third-hand written on rumour? it's such an interesting thing to consider.

[vixstarria]

Mark me as yours

This takes place immediately after and is interlinked with 'Missionary with the lights off' but from Astarion's rather than Tav's POV - check it out if you haven't already, the fics complement each other.

Soft sassy Astarion, F!Tav, Gale, minor appearances by other origin characters, Astarion POV

Fluff, humour, banter, pining, non-explicit sexual references

A day in camp in the life of Astarion. Features brooding, sewing, doing laundry, being dramatic, engaging in improper use of archmage of Waterdeep, reading erotica, and more!

Approx. 2,000 words

AO3

You frowned at the stuffed bear you held in your hands, weighing up your desire to showcase your skills against the absurdity of the task at hand.  

The whole thing was coming apart and needed to be washed and restuffed if you were to do this properly. What was inside, anyway? Fur..? You supposed you could go hunt something furry. Or maybe save yourself the time and just give Scratch a quick partial shave, he wouldn’t mind – the mutt lying at your feet was stupid enough to like you. To prefer you over anyone else, in fact.  

You reached down to give him a fond, absentminded pet.  

And then there was the matter of not letting it burn to a crisp the moment Karlach touched it. 

“Is there a flame ward enchantment on this..? Can you reapply it?” you asked Gale, who was nearby at his usual spot by the fire, concocting something edible for the rest of your group. 

“There is and I sure can,” he replied.  

Great. You had gotten yourself into a group project with the wizard to rescue a teddy bear.  

“Don’t tell me this is what Wyll was so concerned about earlier...” Tav had finally made it out of your tent and sat down next to you, looking somewhat less disheveled than how you’d left her.  

“The bag of holding finally tore. Naturally I was the only one competent enough to fix it.” 

You gestured with your thumb towards a towering pile of assorted crap that Wyll and Lae’zel were still sifting through: Lae’zel inspecting and setting aside any weapons and armour she deemed worth keeping, and Wyll sorting through an array of scrolls and potions no one was ever going to use, or would forget were in your possession if the need for them ever did arise.  

“Darling, this is your fault, you know,” you added. “Must you pick up everything?” 

“Karlach made me do it. Also I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am prudence and sensibility personified,” she said. 

“You’re uh... You’re also bleeding,” Gale said, pointing at her neck. 

A trail of blood had started running down from the puncture wounds, which must have reopened.  

Shit. 

Before you could reason yourself out of it, your instincts kicked in and you pressed your mouth against her neck, licking the blood off. By the gods, she actually leaned into you as you did that, not away. You glimpsed a guilty, sheepish smile she threw at Gale, as you pulled away.  

“Idiot... Here, apply pressure, I’ll get the amulet,” you said. 

“I’m the idiot?! You’re the one who ran off to resolve a sewing emergency, like a good little seamstress, before sorting me out!” 

You strode over to your tent, in part to grab the amulet of Silvanus, in part to discreetly tuck away the erection that had immediately started developing as soon as you tasted her blood.  

Hells, am I 239 or 15? you thought, annoyed with yourself.  

“An amulet? I was wondering why you’d stopped visiting me in the mornings...” you heard from Shadowheart. 

“We have a system,” Tav replied.  

“Clearly,” laughed Shadowheart. 

A scene from the night sprung up in your mind as you went about your day: 

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder, half lying on you, her nose buried in your neck.  

It was... nice. Really nice. And you didn’t think this bizarre scenario would ever happen again.  

And yet, pleasant as it was, she still felt too far. You needed to feel her closer. Perhaps you were being greedy, but after all these years, why should you get anything less than exactly what you wanted? 

Carefully, very carefully lest she stir awake and leave, you rolled over onto your side, holding her against you.

She was still asleep. Good...   

You cautiously slipped lower and lower until your head was at her chest, delicately wrapping your arms around her torso. 

Then she stirred.  

Shit. 

Without waking, she sighed, drawing you into a tight embrace, clutching you against her chest, complete with throwing a leg over your hips to pull you even closer. 

You finally relaxed, your arms wrapped around her waist. 

Perfect... 

She felt so warm... She smelled of comfort. 

You could indulge in this for the night. You would wake up before she did anyway.  

You drifted away, lulled by the beating of her heart. 

You didn’t have any nightmares that night.  

“Is your boyfriend coming?” you heard Karlach somewhere in the distance.  

You cringed at the juvenile term. Still, you were curious how she would answer.  

“He’s on laundry duty,” she responded. “Just us gals today.” 

“So your idea of doing washing is to pawn everything off to me,” said Gale. 

“Vampires and running water, remember,” you said. “Also you don’t look like you’re exerting an awfully large amount of effort yourself... Although I must admit, this is ingenious.” A little flattery wouldn’t hurt.

Gale sat at a riverbank at a deeper section of the river. Some sheets and clothing were being tossed and spun in a small bubbling whirlpool within the water, together with foaming slivers of soap. 

“Surely few archmages possess such finesse and creativity?” you continued. 

Gale sighed and motioned for you to throw your bundle in as well, expanding the whirlpool.  

“Just toss your shirt in too, it's splattered with blood,” Gale added wearily.  

Her scent lingered on it. The last thing you wanted was to wash it off.

You pulled the shirt over your head and hurled it into the whirlpool.  

“Not Tav’s creative nailwork, I presume..?” Gale asked with a wince, looking at your back.  

“Nope” was all you said, as you pulled a book out from your pocket, making yourself comfortable on the bank. To his credit, the wizard did not probe further. 

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Those words had been echoing in your mind over and over all day.  

It couldn’t have meant anything.  

A little expression of some vampire fetishism finally poking through – you shouldn’t have expected any different from her, she did offer you her blood consistently, not even asking for anything in return.  

Still, you’d felt like something inside you might burst from your desire and thrill when you heard those words.   

And then everything that followed after... 

You had actually lost yourself for a short while. Not dissociated and detached. Lost yourself. In bliss. In the scent of her skin, in the sounds of her need for you, in the sensation of her blood merging with yours and flowing through your veins. 

And now she was walking around somewhere, with telltale bitemarks on her neck for all the world to see. Scandalous... 

No, it couldn’t have meant anything.  

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Still... What a pleasant little fantasy... 

‘Yours’ 

“You’ve been smiling at that page for ten minutes straight now,” Gale’s voice snapped you out of your musings.  

“It’s my favourite page,” you retorted. 

“What’s it about?” he asked snidely after a short pause.  

“I have no idea,” you confessed, begrudgingly, snapping the book shut. If the wizard knew what was best for him, he would abstain from any further comments.  

“She’s quite fond of you,” Gale said sombrely after another pause.  

“Is this about to turn into one of those ‘You break her heart – I'll break your face’ talks?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh gods no,” Gale laughed. "No, I would go straight to incineration... You just strike me as the type that needs to have the obvious spelled out for them.” 

“I am not entering this type of discourse with someone who’s presently washing my spend off my bed sheets,” you said, laying back and shutting your eyes, to bask in the sun. No answer followed. 

Not even a minute had passed when a shadow fell over you.  

Odd, you thought. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky. 

You opened your eyes to see a giant water bubble hovering a few meters above you. Was that... a bedsheet floating in the middle..? 

Worth it, you thought just as the undulating bubble spilt and crashed over you.  

You coughed and spat, trying to untangle yourself from the sheet, as the unleashed torrent nearly swept you off the bank. And yet, above all else, you found yourself curious. 

The water had no longer been running as part of the river, true, but given its sheer volume and the velocity at which it hit you, it should have hurt more than merely your pride.  

You made it to the edge of the bank, and cautiously dipped a finger in.

Nothing...

You proceeded to submerge your hand, then your entire forearm, to your elbow. 

Nothing.  

Of all things... Why this? Why not your reflection? Why not the blood craving? Oh well. Beggars, choosers... 

You were laughing.  

“This tadpole,” you turned and shouted at Gale, unabashedly stripping yourself of your pants, as Gale turned away, muttering something about going blind, “is the best thing that’s happened to me in centuries!” 

The best? Maybe second best? It had some tight competition, but you supposed nothing would have been possible without it, so it reigned supreme. 

You leaped into the river, diving and letting the gentle current carry you downstream for a while.  

You knew what you would be doing later that evening with her.  

“What have you got there?”  

She slid onto your lap like a cat that refused to take ‘no’ for an answer as it sought attention. You had been idling away your time by your tent, with some pulp you had picked up earlier. The rest of the group had been drinking and roasting something at the campfire.  

“Trash. Disappointingly boring trash, this time,” you answered. 

“No pulsating flesh tunnels in this one?” 

“Alas... There were not one but two mentions of ‘velvet-wrapped steel’ however, and plenty of ‘sword-sheathing’.” 

“To the hilt?” 

“Is there any other way?” 

“Wouldn’t want to sheathe it only partially, I suppose...” she mused. “Come join us. We found some half-decent wine. And you don’t have to be alone all the time, you know.” 

“Spare me, I’ve had enough of Gale’s lectures and Wyll’s tales for the day. And besides, ugh, all those chewing noises!” You made a gagging sound. 

None of them want me there. 

“Oh don’t be such a delicate princess,” she rolled her eyes. “How’s this: it’s our joint meal time. It would be rude and completely unfair to exclude anyone. You should sit down with everyone, bite down on my wrist and make a great deal of slurping.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Delightful. Simply delightful. 

“It will be funny!” 

“I fear you might be the only one laughing, darling.” 

That is hilarious, I can just imagine Gale squealing or getting sick. 

“Is there anyone else you’d care to make laugh?” she asked with a slight upturn of her lips. 

Not in the least. 

“I could die again knowing I have accomplished something if I ever make Lae’zel laugh. But perish the thought – I am perfectly happy right here with my literature.” 

“Well, if you don’t want to join the group, perhaps I will stay and you can...” She snatched the book from your hands and tossed it aside, leaning in and bringing her lips up to your ear. “...Release your kraken in my field of rose petals,” she purred in a sultry voice. 

“Stop,” you choked back a snicker.  

“Get tangled up in my beef curtains?” she continued with the same tone. 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Sink your meat shaft in my cream tart!” she persevered.  

“By the gods, woman, I am never having sex with your again.” 

“Suckle the nectar from my weeping core!” 

“Alright, fine, I’ll go, anything is better than this.” You got up, pushing her off your lap. 

“Taste my forbidden, oozing fruit, Astarion!” she cried out from the ground behind you as you covered your ears and shouted “LALALALA”, making your way towards the campfire. 

You would endure the prattle of your companions.  

Then you would take her for a moonlit swim in the river.  

Then you would see if she might spend the whole night in your arms again.  

Perhaps she could sleep in your shirt and leave her scent on it again – it was foolish to sleep completely in the nude out in the wild after all, what if there were intruders? 

Everything was going according to plan, you reminded yourself.  

~~~~~

Next in series - Down by the river

Series master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Also @spacebarbarianweird - you haven't asked for a tag but sounded interested

[mari-lair]

What if i do a full supernatural akane x aoi fic, what if-

[oscarwildin]

realizing it’s all in my head is the best and worst thing that could have happened

[memento-morri-writes]

whumpril day four: threat - "carrion"

Here it is!! The backstory of how Carrion got his name, in full! I haven't shared any piece of this before, and I'm super fucking proud of this one. I'm very curious to see how people who aren't me or the DM interpret this scene, so please tell me your theories! (@whumpril) pov: Carrion | Reverence wordcount: 2.5k character(s): Carrion Vice (D&D), Orion, Beren (NPCs) canon status: canon, backstory vignette trigger warnings: violence, uncertain character death, being left for dead, discussions of unpleasant ways to die. summary: Having recently been told that there is no way to cure the (presumed fatal) Delirium corruption afflicting him, Reverence's mood sours, with potentially fatal consequences.

Reverence hung back, allowing his horse to slow as the group rode along the lonely mountain path. Barely wide enough for their wagons, and with scraggly underbrush creeping in on the edges, it could hardly be called a road. A few days earlier, when they first came across the path, they’d almost missed it. The signpost had rotten and fallen to the ground, and if not for the map Theodore had bought, they likely would have ridden right past it. 

A part of him wished they had. If they had missed the path, maybe there would still be hope. Maybe his friends wouldn’t be avoiding him. He glanced up, shooting a glare at the small huddle of horses several yards ahead. They quickly looked away. 

It had been like this all day, ever since they left the healer’s home early that morning: Reverence keeping his distance while the others whispered and stared. He didn’t have to be close enough to hear them to know what they were saying. How long before he turns? What if he attacks us? Is it safe to keep him around? The same questions were repeating in his mind, over and over again until they lost all meaning. 

This branch of the Silver Order – Theodore’s branch – had been on the road for months. They had originally set out to investigate reports of a non-Academy mage illegally studying Delirium. They’d found him, and confiscated the Delirium, intending to take it home to be destroyed. But along the way, something had gone wrong. 

Reverence closed his eyes, thinking back to that day. He and a young man named Orion, barely old enough to join the Order, had been tasked with guarding the stone. Orion, having been watching the horses during the Delirium raid, begged Reverence to let him take a peek at it. Eventually Reverence had relented, as long as Orion promised not to touch the crystal. What harm could one glance do?

Quite a lot apparently. As soon as Orion had lifted the lid of the lead-lined chest holding the crystal, Reverence’s vision had blurred, the whole world bathed in dusky purple. He remembered crying out, telling Orion to close the lid, but Orion hadn’t heard a word. Instead, hearing a beastly cry, he’d spun around to find his friend’s body swelling, spines bursting from under his skin. 

He’d stumbled backwards, crying out for help. Reverence had curled in on himself, crying out in pain as his flesh reconstructed itself. The others had come running, weapons drawn, but hesitated, seeing that he wasn’t attacking. 

The transformation had only lasted a few seconds, but it had felt nearly endless to him. Returning to himself, surrounded by frightened Paladins, he knew then that his life was over. No one recovered from Delirium contamination. It hadn’t taken him this time, but it was only a matter of time. 

But the Order hadn’t given up on him. They’d dropped off the crystal and dragged Reverence in front of every cleric in the city. When none of them had been able to help, or even explain what had happened to him, they’d gone further. 

It had been weeks now, and time was almost up. The eccentric healer at the end of this mountain path had been their final hope. There was no one left to try. 

Reverence tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter. That he was lucky to have gotten even a handful of weeks before the corruption took him. But as he watched the other paladins up ahead, murmuring and looking over the shoulders, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe it would have been better to die.

Rage flared in his mind, causing him to clench his fists and grit his teeth. They were luckier than him. They were fine. They would get to move on. In fact, it seemed like most of them already had. 

His muscles tightened and his horse, who had bent her head to take a bite of the underbrush, leapt forwards. Reverence quickly released the pressure on her flanks and murmured an apology. When he looked up, all of the paladins were staring openly.

Hours passed as they trekked through the forest, and Reverence’s mood didn’t improve. By the time they made camp he was fuming. When he stalked over to tie up and unsaddle his horse, she was quickly whisked away by a jumpy squire. It seemed they didn’t even trust him to do his own chores. 

Feeling several pairs of eyes on his back, he walked off and pitched his tent several yards away from the rest, barely within the clearing. He sat inside, back to the entrance, and waited. Eventually the flurry of activity outside quieted down. The others were likely eating, laughing and telling stories around the fire. No. They wouldn’t be laughing. They’d be whispering – about him. 

Shaking his head, he pushed aside the tent flap and stepped outside. As he had predicted, on the opposite end of the clearing, as far away from his tent as possible, was the glow of a fire. In the dimming light, he could see figures moving near it. 

He sighed and turned towards the horses. He’d left his sword strapped to his saddle. 

“Reverence? Where are you going?” A voice called from behind him.

Reverence spun around to see a mountain of a man stepping out of the trees. Ordinarily the sight of his friend Beren would have brought a smile to his face. But not now. He was the Order’s strongest fighter, and the fact that he was loitering near Reverence’s tent made him uneasy.

“Beren.” He nodded curtly. “What are you doing here?”

Beren shuffled his feet awkwardly. “The captain told me to keep an eye on you. So where are you going, Rev?”

The nickname sounded hollow, without the care usually attached, and Reverence scowled. “Just getting my fucking gear. I may be a dead man walking, but I can at least take care of my stuff for the next guy.”

Beren flinched, and something flashed in his eyes, too quick for Reverence to process. “Rev… you can’t seriously think I’m going to let you do that, right?” His voice wavered, but he took a step forward. “Come on, let’s go back to your tent.”

Reverence was simmering with anger now. “And why can’t you let me do my damned job? Afraid I’m gonna kill someone with it?” He took a step towards Beren. “After the Delirium gets its way, I won’t need a sword to kill you. But until then–”

“Hey! Get away from him!” Reverence wheeled around to see Orion standing with his sword in hand. A tray and several bowls lay scattered at his feet. “D-don’t hurt him!” The boy’s voice wavered as he brandished his sword. 

Seeing Orion brought Reverence’s rage to a boil. “You,” he growled. “You’re the one who started this. If you hadn’t asked to see that fucking rock, everything would be fine.”

Orion’s lip quivered. “I-I’m sorry, Rev.” Again, the nickname made Reverence grit his teeth. “Look, let’s just put a stop to this now, alright? Just sit down, and–”

Something inside Reverence snapped. He would not just sit here while they killed him! Without thinking, he lunged forwards, aiming a punch for Orion’s jaw. His vision narrowed, everything aside from the boy in front of him going hazy. But when he arrived the punch missed, Orion’s head gliding by several inches below.

Orion leapt out of the way, seemingly equally surprised by the lack of impact. He stared up at Reverence, eyes wide. Reverence brought his arm back for another blow. As he lashed out, he saw an arm that was not his own. Large and swollen with muscle, the hand tipped in dagger-like claws. 

Suddenly, he understood. Why the first blow had missed, why the world seemed so hazy. He tried to pull back, change the course of the blow, but it was too late. His fist met flesh and Orion crumpled to the ground.

Something barreled into him, knocking him to the ground. He thrashed, trying to get to his feet. He had to see what had happened to Orion. He struggled to his knees, but pain seared as a blade cut into his leg and he fell to the ground. 

“Orion!”

He tried to shove the paladins out of the way, but there were too many of them. For every blow he shrugged off, another landed. He was distantly aware that he was wounded, that he’d taken enough hits to bring most men down, but it didn’t matter. He needed to see Orion. 

A flash of silver as a sword swung towards him, and the world went black. 

Reverence woke to the sound of arguing. 

“With all due respect, Sir, you should have killed him right there.” Was that… Beren?

Theodore’s voice replied. “I told you. I won’t kill one of my own men.”

Reverence lifted his head slightly, and saw Beren and Theodore standing face-to-face a few yards away. Gathered around them were most of the paladins, eyes darting back and forth like pendulums wound too fast.

“Sir, that… thing isn’t Reverence anymore. It would be a kindness to–”

Anger and fear surged through Revenrence’s body and he tried to get to his feet, only to find that he couldn’t move. Beren broke off at the sound and Reverence looked down and saw himself wrapped nearly from head to toe in chains.

The paladins all turned to face him, looking at him with a mixture of fear and revulsion. He noticed now that several appeared to have been wounded in the fight, and his stomach twisted.

“Orion, is he–”

Beren stormed over and leaned down, spit flying as he said, “Keep your name out of his mouth. After what you did–”

“That’s enough, Beren.” Theodore pushed him aside and crouched down in front of Reverence. “Orion is none of your concern anymore, Reverence.” 

A lump was building in the back of his throat. “Please, let me see him.”

Theodore shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

Beren grabbed Theodore’s arm. “Sir, you’ll only make things worse. Reverence is gone. Or he will be soon enough.”

“I told you – I will not kill one of my men.” He turned to another paladin standing out of Reverence’s view. “Hitch one of the carts and put him in there.”

“You can’t seriously mean to bring him with us? When he transforms again – and he will – we’ll all be in danger.”

Theodore raised a hand. “I do not intend to bring him with us.”

“Then what do you plan to do with him? You say you’re not bringing him with us, but you refuse to kill him. What else is there to do?”

Theodore glanced at Reverence, holding his gaze for a moment before turning back to Beren. “There was a ledge partway down the ravine a little ways down the road. We’ll leave him there.”

Beren stepped back, eyes wide. “You’re going to just abandon him?” He looked appalled at the notion. 

“It’s the best thing I can think of. He won’t be able to hurt anyone from there.”

Beren looked like he wanted to say more, but Theodore turned away, calling for uninjured men to haul Reverence to the wagon. They approached warily, torn between not wanting to take their eyes off of him and being unable to look him in the face.

When they began to lift him, the chains cut into his wounds, sending bolts of pain shooting through his body. He cried out, and the paladins hesitated. 

“Come on, do it quickly and get it over with.” Theodore’s voice was sharp as he ordered them on.

Slowly, awkwardly, the paladins carried Reverence over to the waiting cart and lifted him inside. He was breathing heavily, and his head was fuzzy from the pain. He paid little attention to the movement around him as the paladins saddled their horses. 

When the cart finally began to move, every bump in the road was painful. He gritted his teeth and bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood to keep from crying out. In the corner of his vision he saw Theodore riding alongside the cart, watching him. His face was grim.

After several agonizing minutes, the cart rolled to a stop and the paladins dismounted. Several of them climbed up on the wagon, surrounding Reverence. He braced himself for the pain as they lifted him and carried him to the edge of a cliff. They were preparing to lower him over the edge when Theodore spoke.

“Stop.” Hope flared in Reverence’s chest, his heart beating faster. Maybe Theodore had changed his mind. It wasn’t too late. But the captain’s next words shattered his hope. “Remove a few of the chains. The whole bundle is too heavy for our ropes, and we want to be sure we still have some in case we need it on the way home.”

Hurriedly, the paladins obeyed, unwrapping a few lengths of chain from around his body. 

“Take off one more. He’s injured enough now that he shouldn’t pose a threat in this form, and if – when – he transforms, he’ll grow enough that they’ll be a serious problem for him.”

Aside from Theodore’s commands, no one spoke. It was late now, and completely dark aside from the moon, whose waxing crescent was just barely visibly over the trees. By tomorrow it would be the new moon. 

The moment of peace was broken all too soon by Theodore’s curt, “Lower him.” The paladins lifted Reverence and lowered him inch by inch over the edge of the ravine. His legs had been freed just enough that he was able to use them to push away from the rocks, preventing even more injuries. 

He went down, 10 feet, then 20. He estimated he was 30 or 40 feet down the side of the cliff when he finally touched the ground. The paladins continued to lower him until he was able to half-slide, half-sit to the ground. 

Above him, the paladins began to pull the rope back up as Reverence looked around his new grave. The rocky outcropping they had placed him on was tiny, no more than 6 feet wide and 10 feet long. Aside from a few bits of moss, it was completely barren. It certainly felt like a fitting place to die. And he was certain to die here. The road was so rarely traveled that chances are he would starve or die of thirst before someone passed by. And even if they did, he was so far down that they wouldn’t be able to see him. 

Beren’s distant voice pulled him back to the present. He glanced up to see two figures looking down on him, silhouetted by the faint moonlight. “Sir… are you certain you want to do this? Death from thirst or starvation is not a quick one. Wouldn’t you rather be certain that he di–”

“Enough, Beren. What’s done is done. Try your best to put Reverence out of your mind. Before long, he’ll be nothing but carrion.”

The figures disappeared from view, one after another, and before long the horses’ footsteps and the sound of the wagon’s wheels faded into the distance. Reverence was alone.

[pharawee]

The Renovation was released yesterday on WeTV and the first (of two) episodes is free two watch.

It's a very low-stakes show that's selling exactly what's on the tin: writer checks into resort that's currently being renovated and tries to get with the owner so he can use the whole thing as inspiration for his next novel.

There's basically like, 30 minutes of hurt/comfort with a focus on the comfort part - in the form of not one but two very long and drawn out sponge baths. It feels a bit like whoever came up with the whole thing is really living their best sponge bath enthusiast life.

And then, right at the end, this happens:

What. the. Dickens.

Yeah... uhm... they won, I will be tuning in next week.

[quatregats]

Something I've been thinking about is how Patrick O'Brian manages so skillfully to write characters whose actions contradict their beliefs, which I think is honestly a big part of why his characters feel so real. Mostly with Stephen and Jack—e.g., and perhaps most notably, Stephen has notably leftist sympathies (honestly I have no idea how to characterize his politics in period terms) who nonetheless becomes very comfortable with his rise to the landed gentry, while Jack is a card-carrying Tory who much of the time sympathizes far more with working class sailors and farmers than with the upper classes—but I'm sure he does it to a lesser degree with some of his minor characters (James Dillon, while perhaps not precisely minor, comes to mind), and I love that he's able to do that, especially the way in which he embeds it in the narrative. We see how they're all unreliable narrators of themselves; we understand how they want to be seen and how that does and doesn't coincide with the reality, but most importantly, this isn't presented as something reprehensible, just as a part of their own humanity. They are not their expectations for themselves, but they don't need to be those expectations to be beloved.

[transfemstarscream]

have not watched transformers: one, but from what i've seen so far proves my point about transformers: animated having the only good sentinel prime in any transformers media ever.

[ps-cactus]

[shsl-heck]

Thinking about the Chevalier interlude, specifically the inaugural team of Wards. Like in universe, they sell it to this first group of kids (and presumably the rest of the world) as a place for second chances, to find friends and mentors who understand what youre going through, where you can learn to use your powers safely while making good memories. The kids broadly seem to believe in these noble intentions of course, but what really gets me is that I've seen readers buy into it!

"Oh, it's such a tragedy that the Wards program became this awful thing that traumatizes kids even more, and expects them to die for the sake of civilians! It's fallen so short of what it was originally supposed to be!"

No it has not??? The fact that the triumvirate and Hero are saying it has this noble goal doesn't make it true. The Wards was pretty clearly always a way to increase the amount of bodies the prt could throw at threats, and we know this because it was started by the fucking Triumvirate as a part of the Protectorate! Alexandria literally came up with the idea of the Protectorate to legitimize the power of capes, and have a consistent source of heroes Cauldron could throw at problems. That is the whole reason for the PRT/Protectorate existing. So when we have this group of children brought in a subsidiary, there are 2 real options.

1). Cauldron and Alexandria decided they would be really niceys and created this program with no intentions other than helping these kids out.

Or 2). As things got worse, they realized the Protectorate didn't have enough manpower to do what they needed, and so they expanded it to include children (the demographic most prone to triggering). That way, they greatly increase the number of capes who they can send to fight and die as needed, and the ones who do survive their tenure in the Wards will be better trained when it comes time to join the actual Protectorate.

At the risk of sounding conceited, I think the second one is far more likely based on everything we know about Cauldron. Maybe it was originally a little nobler, and the goal was just to create more well trained heroes and cut back on young villains, but there's no way Alexandria, Doc Mom, and Contessa didn't factor in the ability to sacrifice the kid heroes if it improved their chances of success. That was absolutely a perk at minimum.

That's the real tragedy of the inaugural Wards. The kids were lured in with promises of safety, comraderie, and second chances like lambs to the slaughter. All the while, Alexandria and Cauldron knew that many (if not most) of these children would suffer abuse by the prt (like in the case of Reed), die, or face a fate worse than death like poor Mouse Protector. It's horrifying! The idea that they didn't know the danger these kids would be in is literally inconceivable. Especially when one of you is also the head of the prt! They knew, and they didn't care. It improved their chances at the end of the world, and so they did it no matter the cost.

[thatrandomblogsays]

PJO fandom look at me, look at me, Percy is not an unreliable narrator. an unreliable narrator is a narrator is an untrustworthy storyteller who is either deliberately deceptive or unintentionally misguided and forces the reader to question their credibility. That is not Percy. He doesn’t try to hide details from the reader & is open about his feelings. Him misreading a situation or having prejudice towards someone is normal. Every character has flaws and bias, especially when the character is a child. Can it result in his narration being skewed? Yes. But that’s still not what an unreliable narrator is. You guys have got to stop calling him that.

[mytragedyperson]

ok, kinda wish we got to see the conversation between Choi Han, Deruth and Hans at the beginning of the novel, when he tells them about Harris Village. Because what did he say for Hans to see him defeat the Count's knights and just not question it? How much of the tragic backstory did he tell them, all of it or just the Harris village bit? Because if he didn't tell them everything, to them, it looks like Cale just came home one day with a random homeless stranger, who told them about the assassination at Harris Village, and possibly that he'd killed the assassins but, again, not clear if he actually told them that part or just the assassination of the villagers. And then the homeless stranger from Harris Village fought and defeated Count Deruth Henituse's knights. and they had no further questions? What did Choi Han tell them? Because while it makes more sense that Choi Han told them the whole story about the assassination and that's why neither Hans nor Deruth questioned it, I'd find it a lot more funny if this wasn't the case, that Hans just saw this, was impressed so forgot to question it and then just went on with his day. Maybe he even forgot to mention it to Deruth and he found out some other way, or maybe Deruth didn't know about this. Hans forgot to mention it in his report and none of the knights were about to admit that they'd been bested by some random stranger who their young master randomly found. God, imagine being one of those knights. seriously, no one, not one person, questioned it? Not one of them was so paranoid they worried that Choi Han was lying about who he was or where he was from. I can't imagine every single knight knew about what happened at Harris Village, though I could be wrong. They might've been told in case the assassins were sent to their territory again. But this was still early on. everyone just took this at face value and accepted it? Honestly, one of the things that makes this story work is how utterly unphased everyone around the main character is. Yes, Choi Han and Rosalyn and Lock and the Calefam are completely unphased. But even the unnamed knights, Hilsman and Hans just never question anything. Honestly, I love Deputy Butler Hans. He comes the closest to questioning Cale but you can almost tell he wants to ask but then realizes actually, on second thought I don't wanna know, and just goes about his day, oblivious to the craziness that surrounds him. Either that or he's about to ask or say something but gets interrupted before he can and then it just feels too awkward to ask later. This book wouldn't work half as well if the characters didn't all share a brain cell.

every time I remember Choi Han is physically seventeen and Cale is physically 18, it makes me sad that they're dealing with this shit. I know Cale is 20 now but that's insane. i know mentally or whatever they're older but can you imagine? 18-year-old Cale acts as a father to On, who is only 8 years younger than Cale Henituse. Like Kim Rok Soo is older, I get that but damn. To everyone else, this 18-year-old who's acted like trash for years is suddenly helping people, making friends, and adopting children. every time he returns home there's someone new with him. He's best friends and brothers with the crown prince. God they drive me crazy. i love them

Also, the way Hans asks Cale if it will be okay for Choi Han not to go back to Harris Village in the beginning of the novel is everything. He just automatically trusts Cales judgement and sees him as the person to ask. Now he may have asked the Count as well but we have no proof of that and, if there's no proof it didn't happen so I'm choosing to believe he waited to ask Cale since it was his guest, which is even better when you consider that the day before he was scared Cale was going to throw a bottle at him. Like the fact that he trusted Cale enough to trust his judgement on this matter after he'd been different for two days. God I love Hans and Cale. And I've never seen anyone talk about them and their relationship but like Hans is one of the first people to feel completely at ease around KRS!Cale. It doesn't take him that long to drop the formality. Man I love deputy butler hans. His relationship with Cale feels so underrated.

Also for future reference when I talk about relationships in this sense I mean the Canon relationship. If I make headcanons, which is a real possibility, that may change to include a romantic aspect, but for now, in this case its purely platonic.

And Hans mentioning Ron hurting himself while working again, and that letting us, the audience know that Cale is wrong when he says Choi Han, Ron and Beacrox seem to be getting along. Because we already know about their first spar, but none of the other characters do. Uts another example of unreliable narrator Cale and we love to see it. OK so I really like this story. There's a huge chance that any posts I make are just gonna be this, like talking about unreliable narrator Cale, nobody ever questioning anything that happens and just general reactions as I reread and most of it is just gonna be random thoughts I have while reading. I already feel like I'm going to be so annoying about this but I have zero regrets and refuse to apologise so consider this a fair warning for if you seem to stumble across my posts a lot

Also Cales immediate response without thinking about it being "give him medicine". Further proof that KRS!cale is way nicer than he gives himself credit for. Also I'm sorry but him saying this while thinking "he probably killed somebody again" absolutely sends me. And the fact Ron hasn't actually killed anyone yet. Also its giving "I don't care if he's a murderer, he's one of my people" which is just so Cale

The interview scene is a great example of why Cale can never seen to get rid of the strays he collects. So, as usual, he thinks he's being selfish and using Choi Han, whatever. And obviously there's the whole, if you can kill people, then you should be able to protect people thing, which is already a pretty good message for Choi Han to hear at this point, that he's good for something more than hurting other people or things. But more than that, by phrasing it as an interview, when Choi Han passes that means he's qualified, that Cale believes he can protect/save people. Cale is probably one of the first people to believe in him, to believe he's capable of more than hurting others, and for someone like Choi Han who's just lost everyone he cared about and killed people for the first time, and is probably suffering some serious surivivors' guilt, it's probably what he needs to hear, that someone still believes in him, even if it is a complete stranger. And it's not actually like Cale is being selfish because, if everything went how he planned at this point, it wouldn't even be like he'd gain Rosalyn and Lock's skills to use because he planned to just send them on their way. Also, the way he asks Choi Han's name and introduces himself - it shows a certain level of respect that most wouldn't expect from a noble. He's not looking down on Choi Han, He's treating him as an equal and, by saying he's heard his name from others but wants to hear from Choi Han himself, it shows that he wants him to have his voice and speak and that he'll listen. this may seem like a reach because it's such a small thing but how many nobles would care enough to ask a commoner, one who looked homeless, their name. Most wouldn't even bother to ask to confirm the name they'd heard was correct but Cale does. Imagine how that must feel to Choi Han, knowing his status, that Cale bothered to ask and treat him like an equal.

also can you imagine if Choi Han had slipped up and admitted Cale sent him when he first met Rosalyn and Lock. It wouldn't be completely insane for him to assume they knew each other. that would've looked so bad. oh yeah, this guy who you've never met somehow knew, not only who you were, but where you'd be in order to send me to find you. God the amount of times Cale just gets lucky is insane. He's also insanely unlucky. i Can't decide if the God of Luck loves or hates him.

also don't know if this was the intention but I've always in my head read the "I'm glad you know how to read" bit as sarcastic and throwing shade, especially because he knew before this he could read and because he doesn't offer any further information about who these people are and why Choi Han has to go get them or whatever. i get that it was probably written down on the paper, or maybe he just didn't mention it. It probably wasn't intended but that's how i always read it.