#main » now i turn unto my calling

[shveris]

incorrect quotes collection, part 3

today i bring you: things that definitely happened in the canon (trust me i'm gege's pc)

part 1 part 2

megumi: any room can be a panic room if you’d just give me a fucking second

sukuna, during the heian period: i was born for politics. i have great hair and i love lying

noritoshi: poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses

miwa: this katana is actually a magic wand

momo: meet me in the inageya parking lot for a wizard duel

mai: *cocks gun* magic missile

kokichi: what the fuck is wrong with you people

yuuji: do you guys hear something?

sukuna: i hear the sound of you shutting the fuck up

satoru: what does 'take out' mean?

shoko: murder

haibara: dating

nanami: food

suguru: it can mean all three if you’re not a coward

shoko, on the phone with suguru: they’re in the kitchen again

satoru, in the background: “beat 3 eggs”… in what? hand to hand combat?

haibara, in the background: must be since nanami banned technique usage in the kitchen last thursday, remember?

suguru: gET THEM OUT OF THERE

megumi: goddamn it, the printer broke while printing out yuuji’s birthday invitations

maki: well, what are they supposed to say

megumi: “yuuji’s birthday”

panda: what do they say instead?

megumi: “yuuji's bi”

toge:

nobara: works out either way

sukuna: do you prefer gendered terms?

yuuji: i guess so

sukuna: fuck you

yuuji: where was the gendered term?

sukuna: in your mom

yuuji:

yuuji: my mom got dicked down by your twin which you ate in the womb

sukuna:

satoru: goodness me, it’s the perfect day for our hiking trip! bless mother nature

megumi, out of breath: mother nature is a WHORE

yuuji: what’s up guys? i’m back

megumi: what the- you can’t be here. you’re dead. i literally saw you die

sukuna: death is a social construct

satoru: died and came back as a cowboy, i call that reintarnation

nobara: wow, i don’t even get the joke but it sounds funny

megumi: that’s nOT. THE. FUCKING. POINT.

nobara: what the fuck yuuji, what are you doing here!?

yuuji: i missed you guys!

megumi: you just survived a car crash

nobara: the doctors said you have internal bleeding

yuuji: yeah, and? isn’t that where blood’s supposed to be?

megumi: i need to sit down…

these two are how yuuji's comeback should've went...

shoko: yeah, i'll smoke a joint tonight, but let's not get too crazy

*4 hours forward to shoko, suguru and satoru getting arrested for blocking the main road in large traffic cone costumes*

nobara: the only thing i'm guilty of is being gorgeous… and also assault with a hammer

satoru, on the night of the war delcaration: suguru, i’m sorry. i can’t keep seeing you anymore

suguru: no shit, you’re always wearing that blindfold

satoru: suguru… no…

nanami: gojo, we have a problem

satoru: what, the fire?

nanami: no, the- wait, what fire?

satoru: oh forget about it, this sounds more interesting

shoko: that was a joke. say ha

nanami: ha

shoko: now do it again

nanami: ha

shoko: congratulations, you are officially the life of the party

satoru: i would let you ruin my life

suguru: sorry, i’m busy ruining my own. you’ll have to wait

satoru, turning to suguru: my dick stopped breathing. it’s in desperate need of cpr

suguru: you’re in desperate need of a beating

shoko: or a lobotomy

suguru: both

shoko: if the beating is hard enough, it’ll count as a lobotomy

satoru: i always knew you guys were homophobic

satoru: none of those words are in the bible

shoko: psalm 119:105. “and jesus said unto his followers, should a manlet incel attempt to mansplain the blockchain to a girlboss, may she waste his time and yassify his blorbos”

suguru: he did not fucking say that

megumi: i taught my dog a new trick *throws ball* fetch!

dog: *just stands there*

noabara: he didn’t do it

megumi: that's because i taught him to ignore social conventions and think for himself

suguru: i’d kill someone if you asked me to

satoru: i’m pretty sure you’d kill someone even if i didn’t ask you to

megumi: if bees can be fish and boys can be girls, then why did my dad sell me to the zen'in clan?

nobara: i thought i was going to have to yell at you, but now i think i should hug you

sukuna, on yuuji's cheek: the real secret to immortality? not dying. you want to be immortal? okay, that’s easy. just don’t die. that’s it. refuse to die. there you go.

yuuji: but how-

sukuna, ignoring him: “but how” you may ask. well, easy. just don’t do it. refuse to. say “no, fuck you”

nobara: i'm not creepy

nobara: i'm petty

nobara: there's a difference, ya know

waiter: what would you like?

yuuji: a milkshake with two straws

megumi: *blushes*

yuuji: *puts both straws in his mouth* watch how fast i can drink this!

haibara: ieri-san, is that my mug you’re drinking out of?

shoko: no, it’s mine

haibara: it… looks just like the one i have…

shoko: you don’t have one like this anymore

megumi: i'm a witch. i mixed some herbs and crystals together and now all my shikigami know the f-word

nobara: which one?

megumi: what do you mean?

nobara: there's more than one f-word

yuuji, entring the room: you talkin' 'bout faggots?

megumi: why would we talk about cigarettes?

sukuna: i'll offer you some friendly advice-

yuuji: i don't want your advice

sukuna: well, then consider it unfriendly advice

jjk manga ends in 30 days which means i'm gonna nap on the highway after that last chapter drops :muscle:

[cookeybg]

Unexpected Cohabitation a JonDami fic

So....my chapters seem to be getting longer. I apologize, but I can't stop myself. Here's chapter 3!

Title: Unexpected Cohabitation

Main Characters: Jonathan Kent and Damian Wayne (some of the others show up too, the list is too long)

Eventual relationship: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (my fave)

Stuff to know: No capes, reverse robins, high school AU, no smut, no Brucie Wayne, I know nothing about sports but it will show up, (aaand I think that's it, will add more if it comes up)

[In case you missed it Chapter 1 , Chapter 2]

Part 1 - Chapter 3

Jon had been distracted. The morning had started out hectic. First, Conner had taken forever to get ready and they had to run to the subway in order to get to school on time. Then, it had turned out that he had been placed in the wrong math class so he had to go into the school office and have it changed to proper math class, lucky his schedule stayed the same. Even luckier he now got to see Jay twice everyday, not including club activities every Monday. What had really been the cherry on top was when Jay stopped him after class to give his phone number. Lunch had been full of memes and texts and exasperated glances from Kathy. So, Jon was distracted when he stumbled on what felt like a tree root, his phone flying into the air and him landing on his hands and knees on the dirt floor. Miraculously his glasses stayed on his face if not a bit askew.

“Ow.” Someone groaned behind him. “Sorry!” Jon scrambled up and turned around. His wide blue eyes met glaring green ones. “Tt.” Damian tsked removing Jon’s phone from atop his head. “Do you make it a habit to throw your things at others?” “What? No!” Jon reached out snatching his phone back. “It was an accident!” Damian stared at him unimpressed passing him by without further comment. Jon could feel the heat of embarrassment heating his neck and face. He gripped his phone and cursed his decision on taking the short cut to his art class. He took a deep breath and continued on his way, Damian Wayne was long gone.

Walking into his art class Jon sat across the table from Jay, who waved and smiled at Jon when he entered but was now talking to the girl sitting next him. Jon kept his hands busy by pulling out his art pencils and sketch book he had bought the day before on his way home from school. Jon took discreet glances towards Jay wore a light blue hoodie, it made his pink hair standout and it made him look warm and fluffy. Jon wanted to hug him. “Hello everyone!” Ms. Worle clapped her hands, getting the whole class’s attention. “I have great news today! After many attempts, I was finally able to convince my favorite prodigy to become my T.A.” She clapped her hands again, looking at the door, her white curly hair bouncing in excitement. A loud chatter filled the classroom when Damian Wayne stepped through the door. He glanced around the room, his green gaze locked onto Jon’s blue. The embarrassment from early crawled up Jon’s neck and he quickly looked away. Damian, clearly deciding to pay him no further attention looked back at Ms. Worle, his expression softening. “Ms. Worle, I wouldn’t call myself a prodigy.” Damian said. “Nonsense, please humor this old lady.” Ms. Worle waved away Damian’s words. “You are certainly not old.” Jon wanted to gag, all Damian had to do was kiss the back of the teacher’s hand and the whole charade would be complete. Jon noticed that Jay sat up in interest a small “No way,” escaping his mouth. Jon bit his lip not liking the attention Jay was giving the Wayne. Jay’s sparkling eyes locked unto Jon a wide excited smile graced his face. Jon could feel heat burning his ears, Jay had such a cute smile.

“Jon!” Jay whispered excitedly, leaning forward as far as he could and covering the side of his mouth in an attempt at secrecy. “This is huge! Damian is going to our T.A.!” “I don’t see the big deal…” Jon frowned. Jay looked at him in surprised, he opened his mouth to say something else but Ms. Worle cut him off. “Now, Now, let’s all settle.” Ms. Worle’s face was slightly flushed. “You will be sketching the person sitting across from you and Damian will be assisting all those who need help.” “Try not to make my forehead too big.” Jay teased. “Try not to make my ears too big and we have a deal.” Laughed Jon. It was hard drawing Jay. Every time he looked up at him his heart would race and sometimes their eyes would meet and the butterflies in Jon’s stomach would take flight. It was distracting and difficult to not let his day dreams wander. It didn’t help that Jon wasn’t a very good artist to begin with and kept erasing the same eye he had been trying to draw for the last eight minutes. “Tt.” Jon’s shoulders tensed. When he turned, his nose nearly collided with a brown jaw. He took in a breath of surprise and caught a whiff of something sweet and earthy. Damian’s eyes locked onto his and Jon pulled away slightly, heart pounding in his chest. “May I?” Damian glanced at Jon’s hand. Jon nodded stiffly and watched as Damian’s elegant fingers plucked the pencil out of Jon’s grip, his fingers lightly grazing his. “You need guide lines on the face if you want to make everything symmetrical.” Damian spoke lowly. Jon had to lean in a bit to hear him clearly due to his loud classmates. Jon watched as Damian lightly drew a couple of horizontal lines and a vertical line down the middle. He then started drawing the outline for the second eye. “Drawing is just a series of shapes. Look at Jay’s eyes,” Damian gestured towards Jay and Jon could see that Jay was keenly paying attention to the both of them, “draw a circle for the iris and then fill in the detail like the curve of his eyelid and notice the delicate sweep of his brow.” Damian’s eyes were intense as he pointed out aspects of Jay’s face. Jay fidgeted but did not look away a blush darkened his cheeks and his lips were parted in awe. Jon gripped the table trying not to show any jealousy. “Nothing is a straight line; his soft wavy hair, his lips and the curve of his chin.” Damian paused waiting for Jon’s understanding. “Thanks.” Jon said sulkily. Damian placed the pencil on the sketchbook and moved on. Jon’s back and side prickled uncomfortably in Damian’s absence. Damian helped a couple of girls, they turned red and chattered amongst themselves after he left them. But Jon was paying attention to them, he watched Jay stare after Damian his face slightly red and his gaze determined. Did Jay like that jerk? Was Jon going to lose Jay to Damian? Jon grimaced and looked down at his sketch. Damian’s pencil marks looked light and easily erased. The parts he had drawn as guides looked better than the dark lines Jon had drawn and markedly improved the sketch itself. He sighed and did his best to follow what he had been taught.

After class Jay sidled next to Jon looking behind them at Damian who was speaking with Ms. Worle. He nudged Jon’s shoulder with his own as they left the classroom and Jon got butterflies in his tummy from Jay’s proximity. “You are so lucky that Damian helped you!” Jay tried to whisper but failed. “Yeah, I guess.” Jon tried not to roll his eyes. “He must be pretty good at drawing.” “Pretty good at-“ Jay laughed. “Jon. Damian has won awards for his art.” “So, he’s like actually talented?” Jon asked. Jay stared at him and stopped to type something on his phone. Once he found what he was looking for he showed Jon an article from the Gotham Gazette complete with a picture of a painting. Jay clicked on the picture so that Jon could see it zoomed in. “He won this prestigious art award last year and donated the winnings to charity, since you know, he doesn’t need the money.” Jon took the phone and looked at the painting. It displayed a desert oasis, the palm trees swaying in the breeze seemed to come to life. The sand colored buildings contrasted beautifully with a bright blue sky and green vegetation. In the distance a storm brewed making the birds take flight. The ground closer to the buildings was slightly tinted in a rust colored red. It was beautiful but it somehow made Jon feel as if danger was just around the corner despite the tranquility of the scene. The plaque next to the painting said it was an oil on canvas, titled “Home.” “But, he’s the baseball captain.” Jon said dumfounded. “He’s also been winning art awards since he was a kid. He’s won so many he’s probably lost count.” “How can he be good at so many things? Isn’t he the top of his grade?” “It’s awful, isn’t it?” Jay said smirking. “I can’t wait to interview him!” Jon watched as Jay waved and left him behind. What if his fears were true? If Jay didn’t like Damian now he certainly would after he interviewed him. Kathy was right, Jon needed to confess, ASAP!

I hope you enjoyed! The next chapter is going to be my favorite so I hope you're as excited as I am. XD

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 50

Chapter 49.5

Masterlist

"By my beard..." was all Zoltan could say as he gazed unto the sky as the largest dragon in the world swooped over the battle making a low rumbling sound as she did so.

Aemma and Aemond look up to see Vhagar as well. Iorveth and the Scoia'tel look in both awe and fear. Iorveth mutters a few swears in Elven when he recognized the dragon, something that didn't go unnoticed by Aemma.

"You recognize her?" She realizes. Iorveth ignored her, still unable to process that the former nest mate of the Black Dread was here on the Continent.

Aemma held her breath, realizing Vhagar was here to protect her rider, being Aemond, and she wasn't so sure the dragon would be able to recognize who was friend and who was foe in this battle; knowing Aemond, that he tried to deceive Aemma and drag her back home, Aemma had the feeling all these people may as well be foes in Aemond's eyes. Enemies in his eyes would very well equate to enemies in Vhagar's eyes.

"Aemond, you need to call out to Vhagar," Aemma insists. "What?" "You need to stop her," Aemma elaborates, "people fighting on our side might be harmed if she rains fire onto the battle!" "Even if I wanted to, I doubt Vhagar would be able to hear me this far from the ground," Aemond scoffs.

What the two didn't realize was that when Vhagar made her descent, she made direct eye contact with a certain person who was leading one side of the battle, the elder she-dragon taken by surprise that this person was able to communicate with her from this far up. Hearing what was silently spoken, Vhagar looked down to see the battle beneath her, turning her gaze to see her rider looking up to see her. 

Having some idea of what needed to be done, Vhagar faced the battle once more and opened her mouth, directing her fire towards the Kaedwen army.

The Kaedweni soldiers, boiling in their armor from the heat of the flames, scattered in fear and pain in trying to avoid the wrath of the dragon who swooped over them.

Vhagar flew over to the other side of the battle, preparing to land. Aemond rushes over to her. Aemma turned back to see Geralt and Zoltan had closed the main gate to Vergen, effectively trapping what was left of the Kaedwen army, leaving them like sitting ducks as the Scoia'tel launched their arrows to finish off what was left.

With the army disseminated, and being trapped with nowhere else to go, and with a dragon that could fly over and burn the rest of them, King Henselt raised his arm, singling to his men and to Saskia's army that he was surrendering.

"We won," Aemma sighs in relief.

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

Aemma ran over to Geralt and Zoltan.

"Looks like we won," Aemma says, gaining the witcher and the dwarf's attention towards her. "Aye we did," Zoltan nods, "thanks in part to that dragon it seems." He nods towards the direction where Vhagar just landed, seeing Aemond patting her on the snout and speaking softly to her in Valyrian. Criston stood by, keeping an eye on whoever was looking on. Some of the Vergen soldiers couldn't help but stop and stare, some in awe, others in fear. Some even wondering if Saskia- a proclaimed dragon slayer- could take on the likes of this beast if for some reason Vhagar decides to turn and attack the town.

Aemma made a small smile, wishing her own dragon was here right now. She hoped the next time she saw Cirillia it would be in this world and that her dragon still had her mother in tow.

 "One of yours? Your family?" Zoltan brings Aemma's attention back. Aemma turned her gaze to Geralt to see a neutral look on his face before she answered. "That's Vhagar," she answers, "the oldest and largest of the Targaryen dragons. She was once bonded to my stepmother the Lady Laena Velaryon. Now she is bonded to my cousin."

"Hmm," was all Geralt had to say. He subtly turned his gaze over to Saskia who was receiving and congratulating the surviving Vergen soldiers for their bravery on the battlefield. The witcher had to wonder- given what he had discovered in the underground mines when and Saskia were down there earlier- if the dragon resting away from the village knew there was something off about the 'dragon slayer'. 

It didn't matter so long as the dragon's rider decides not to sic her onto the village locals if it meant dragging Aemma back to her home. Right now Geralt was just glad it wasn't the blood wrym and his rider they would need to deal with.

"Silverlark!" Yarpin calls out over to Aemma, "the battle has been won! Though, I am hoping it won't come to a second battle, especially with that beast looming over. Not even sure the great dragon slayer Saskia could take on something so massive."

Aemma looked over to see Aemond still tending to Vhagar. She noticed the way he turned his gaze over to her, a knowing look on his face. She wasn't sure what it meant. Now that his dragon was here, did Aemond now expect Aemma to mount the saddle so the two of them could fly back to King's Landing? Was he expecting her to just go back? Even after he tried to deceive her, even though he was already prepared to drag her kicking and screaming.

Thinking about that, Aemma felt anger start to rise. Here Aemond was, having professed earlier that he still cared about her, but then he was prepared to take her away without her so much as given a say-so.

Standing straight, Aemma turned towards the direction of her cousin and his dragon, "that...won't come to that," she says confidently in a low tone, "leave this to me." She walked over slowly towards Aemond, knowing exactly what needed to be done.

Meanwhile, Jaskier had joined Geralt, Zoltan, and Yarpin, rubbing his head, almost like he took a hit in that area. "What happened to you?" Yarpin questions. "I uh, I kinda fainted," Jaskier admits, "I was watching the battle happen and then next thing I...I must've been hallucinating because next thing I noticed I saw a REALLY large dragon fly over. I'm certain my mind was playing tricks because it was even bigger then the one that monster Rogue Prince had." "Uh, I wouldn't look that way then," Geralt says.

Too late. Jaskier looks over to see his niece approaching Aemond and right next to the guy was Vhagar.

Needless to say Geralt was quick to catch Jaskier before he made contact with the ground due to fainting the second time around.

-----------------meanwhile----------------------

Iorveth stood there, motionless. The battle was won, and the elf wanted nothing more than to celebrate this victory. This is after all the first major step into establishing a separate ruling governance for Upper Aedirn, for the non-humans. It was one step closer to fulfilling the dream of returning these lands that once belonged to his forefathers.

But, something else was now weighing heavily on Iorveth's mind. He stared over at Ivan, who was currently cleaning his sword. This half-elf...this foreign born knight...was supposedly his son.

How was this possible, Iorveth thinks? How could he have been able to produce a son? Iorveth was well beyond his years even after that dalliance he started all those years ago, there was no way he could've sired any children at this point in his old life. But apparently that was not true. Looking at Ivan, Iorveth could see bits and pieces of himself in the boy. And he could also see bits and pieces of the woman he once loved.

Iorveth wasn't even sure what to say. What could he possibly say? That part of his life, with Joanna, he had put it in his past, it was a lifetime ago. Now, that part of his past had come back in the form of a child he never knew existed. Steeling himself, keeping his stoic composure, Iorveth approached the boy. Ivan sensed the elf was behind him, but he keep on cleaning his sword, not entirely sure what more he could say. "Your mother," Iorveth speaks, "She...you said her name was Joanna. From Flotsam." Ivan stopped his task and stood and turned to face the elf. "She was," Ivan confirms. "I had thought...this whole time," Iorveth says with a somber tone, "I thought she had perished in that pogrom that took place twenty years ago. It was a bloody massacre. Elves, dwarves, and even d'hoinne were caught in the onslaught. I had thought this whole time she was killed." "She escaped," Ivan confirmed, "We both did. Some of the mob had broke into our home. They...I don't remember much of what happened. I was only a small child at the time, and frankly what little I do remember I had gone to great lengths to block that part of my life out. But the names they called her...those awful words they had for her...I could never forget all that. The only reason we survived at all was the help of a dwarf who helped us escape Flotsam. We reached Novigrad, my mother used what money she had left to buy us passage to King's Landing. We lived in poverty the whole time there until a sickness broke out in Flea Bottom and took her from me and I spent many years on the streets before an accident at the docks put me in a position to have a princess in my debt who paid it back by taking into her family."

"I never knew..." Iorveth said once more.

Ivan felt himself getting frustrated at the elf's lack of emotion at this point. The only emotion he's really seen from Iorveth so far was anger and stoicism, and the fact that the death of someone he supposedly cared enough to fuck and have a child with wasn't enough to elicit anything else... "Well why didn't you try and find out?!" Ivan snaps, "was your cause so important you couldn't have been bothered to investigate and try and look for us?" Iorveth flashed a look of anger at Ivan, "you shouldn't speak of things you know nothing of, boy." "If you had put in the effort, if you tried to look for us, she wouldn't have died!"

Iorveth said nothing, not even a change in his usual stoic expression. Well, actually that wasn't true. The elf had been taken aback by Ivan's outburst, and it showed for a split second.

Of course Iorveth had tried to find Joanna, searched high and low in the aftermath in the cover of night so no one would recognize him, tried to get some kind of confirmation that the woman he once cared for was either alive, so that he may leave with a clear conscious, or dead so as to properly mourn her. He never learned she had a child...he never imagined it could've been possible.

"...I understand you are angry with me," Iorveth says in a low tone, "I very much regret how she left this world, the life you and her were forced to live. I cannot change what has passed."

Ivan scoffed, taking a few steps back before he turned his back on his father, "your reputation as a hater of humankind is well known throughout the Continent," the half-elf speaks in a low tone, "I had a hard time believing someone who hates the d'hoine as much as you do could possibly have any kind of intimate relations with their kind." Ivan turns back to face Iorveth, a look of fiery anger in his eyes, "Seeing the way you look at the Virgin of Aedirn, however, it makes more sense. You may hate them...but not enough to not fuck them and then leave them when they've worn out their usefulness." "Now see here-" "I had to scrap and steal what I could on the streets of King's Landing in order to survive. It was by sheer coincidence that I saved the life of a member of the royal family that I was able to make something more for myself. The life I had in Flotsam I had to put it behind me to live the life I am living now as a knight of the Kingsguard. So, all that said you may have sired me...but you are not my father." 

"Do you honestly expect to be welcomed back with open arms, especially you revealed your true heritage?" Iorveth calls out as Ivan walks away, "even if that knight the Targaryen prince swear to keep your secret, how long will it take when others begin to notice how slow you start to age as the decades begin to pass? You may be half human, you may not live as long as your full blood Aen Siedhe brethren, maybe not even as long as me, but your elven blood will allow you to outlive your d'hoine comrades. What do you think will become of you by then?"

Ivan ignored the elf and kept walking, silently scoffing that this guy would now have the audacity to be act concerned for his future well-being.

---------------meanwhile--------------

Aemma walked over towards Aemond and Vhagar, the prince giving his dragon a soft look when the old girl turned her gaze towards Aemma.

Aemma looked up to Vhagar, the elder she-dragon giving her a certain look. Aemma smiled, thinking back to the times she flew on Vhagar with her stepmother when she was a child, her holding onto Laena with one hand and using the other to reach out and feel the wind blow whenever Vhagar soared through the sky. Vhagar brought Aemma many fond memories of her past. Aemma reached out, maybe hoping the dragon would recognize her. Vhagar made a low rumbling sound, almost akin to a cat purring. Aemma smiled when the dragon lowered her head so she could stroke her snout.

"Ziry iksos issare sīr naenie jēdri, uēpa hāedar," Aemma speaks to the dragon in Valyrian (It's been so many years, old girl), leaning in a little closer so as Vhagar could only hear what next she had to say, "Ziry iksos nykeā shame īlon jāhor daor sagon hēnkirī olvie longer." (it is a shame we will not be together much longer)

"Aemma?" Aemma turned to Aemond, a stern look in her eyes, "I am grateful for Vhagar for helping win the battle," she addresses. The Vergen residents watch from afar as Aemma continues speaking to her cousin.

"Now that your beloved dragon is here, Aemond...I think it best you leave." Before Aemond could say anything, Aemma added, "without me." Aemond was shocked at first, but opted to dig his heels in instead, "I'm not leaving without you," he insists. "Yes, you are," Aemma insists with an unwavering voice, "you can't stay here. I...Nyke kostagon't pāsagon ao" (I can't trust you).

Aemond knew what she was talking about, he responded back in Valyrian as well, "Nyke istan mērī doing skoros jorrāelatan naejot sagon gaomagon," he insists in a low tone, (I was only doing what needed to be done) "Ao sagon daor keskydoso issaros nyke remember. Ao've changed. Ao. Ao sagon daor isse se paktot state hen mind." (You're not the same person I remember. You've changed. You...you're not in the right state of mind).

"...what do you possibly know of my state of mind?" Aemma brings up in the Common tongue, "we haven't seen each other in six years. And yet, this whole time we've been together it's almost as if you've expected me to stay the same. No, not the same, it's almost like you've crafted this image, this idea of me in your mind, someone who is more like your mother or your sister and...that's not me, Aemond. That was never who I was, and you know this. You knew it the moment you caught sneaking out of the Red Keep to go to the docks when we were children. You knew...and you still expected me to become someone I was never going to be. And now it has gotten to where you keep overriding any and all my decisions, whatever path I try to take, you've gone and tried to force me away from it, to the point of kicking and screaming. If I choose to stay right now, would you even let me?"

Aemond was too silent for Aemma's liking, making her scoff, "yeah, that's what I thought. That's why you must leave." "Aemma-" "I want you to fucking leave, Aemond!" Aemma snaps at him, "I mean it. Leave. I don't want you hear anymore. If you try and stop me, try and drag me away, I will fight you every step of the way. Just go, Aemond. Tell your mother whatever you wish, tell her I'm dead for all I care. I just...I can't trust you won't try and drag me away again."

Aemond was angry. He wanted to drag her away from this place, but he knew that would only prove her point. He looked at the Vergen locals and saw their looks mirrored hers at this moment. They were looking up to her as some kind of symbol. This heir of the dragon slayer that had led their army. Aemond had half a mind to have Vhagar burn this place to the ground if it would make Aemma see reason...but knew if he did something so rash and cruel, it would only guarantee that Aemma would just turn and run away to the ends of the earth, never to see or speak to him again.

Aemond sighed, feeling like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Ultimately, he nodded before speaking once more in a low tone, "Nyke hope bisa adventure istan worth ziry naejot ao. Bona ao pālegon qrīdrughagon hen aōha lentor isse pōja hour hen jorrāelagon." (I hope this adventure was worth it to you. That you turn away from your family in their hour of need)

"Ser Criston," Aemond speaks to the man, "gather Ser Ivan. We are leaving." "Without the princess?" "Yes." "My prince," Criston tries to reason, "I swore to your mother, the Queen, I cannot-" "You can and you will," Aemond insists, "I will speak to mother. I'll take the blame if I must. You know the way back."

With that, Aemond climbed up Vhagar and mounted her saddle. At his command, the dragon rose and flew up into the sky, eventually disappearing from view.

Before that, when Aemond looked down, he could see Aemma receive cheers and praises from the residents down below, he could hear the chants of "Silverlark" being shouted in Aemma's direction. She wasn't the same person Aemond thought he once knew. Was she even that person to begin with?

Aemond looked down once more to see the witcher and his friends join in on the cheering. He looked away, guiding Vhagar to take him back across the sea to King's Landing. Criston and Ivan would surely find their way back. Make their way to Novigrad and find passage on a ship back to Westeros.

-------------------Back inside Vergen--------------

Ivan and Criston left the town shortly after Aemond departed on dragonback. The two knights were offered transportation to Oxenfurt this time around. It wasn't Novigrad, but the two could still find passage to King's Landing from there.

Worth noting Criston was dealing with the fact that Ivan wasn't who he thought the guy was and Ivan was still reeling with the revelation of Iorveth being his father. Neither would have the time or place to sort out their feelings, save for what conversation could be told on the road. To Criston's relief, Ivan elected to put his headband back on, to hide his ears, but Criston still felt mixed feelings about it all. As much as he was still contemplating whether or not Ivan should be put to the sword or not, Criston felt it would make him something of a hypocrite to even contemplate such a thing for something that was technically not part of the Kingsguard oath. There was nothing against being a half-elf, and did Criston Cole not do worse when he soiled his white cloak with Rhaenyra 16 years ago?

Back in Vergen, Aemma rejoined Phillipa and Saskia who were stating the terms of surrender to Henselt. During this time, Aemma began to feel lightheaded, her vision becoming slightly blurred.

"You did the right thing sending the Targaryen prince and his dragon away," she heard Phillipa speak...not out loud, but the sorceress was talking to her telepathically, "now we can begin the plan of building and ruling."

"How? What's..."

From that moment on, Aemma felt herself in a dazed state. She couldn't quite describe the feeling, but as she looked onto Phillipa and Saskia demanding Henselt hand over Dethmold to be executed for war crimes, Aemma found herself agreeing. Well, to be fair, Aemma wasn't found of the guy especially since he almost killed her when trying to extract her power to destroy the mist earlier, but she wasn't so sure she would've wanted him dead.

The feelings became moot the moment she spoke, "he must pay for his war crimes." Why did she say? She didn't want this? Not unless there was to be a trial first with witnesses and evidence. Isn't that how things were supposed to operate in this new established order? Isn't that what Aemma tried to do with Prince Stennis when he was accused of poisoning Saskia?

Those doubts went away however when she made eye contact with Phillipa. This is what she wanted, so this is what needed to be done.

Shortly after Dethmold was beheaded for his war crime, Aemma felt herself drawn to follow Phillipa and Saskia to wherever it was they were going. Phillipa opened a portal and gestured for the two women to follow. Aemma was last to go through, completely unaware that Geralt and Iorveth were trying to follow, concerned for both Aemma and Saskia as they blindly follow Phillipa through the portal, wondering what had the sorceress done to put the two under her spell to do what was clearly her bidding.

It appears a dragon was actually the least dangerous object they had to worry about.

Chapter 51

[xxx-inhibitionless-xxx]

Chapter 66 : Day Three ( Chad & Brad’s Afternoon part 1 )

 Brad and Chad were quiet for a moment as they wondered how to get Chad inside his house without being seen by the growing crowd of guests and Chad’s family they could see walking around the yard from where they sat in Brad’s car in what would be considered Chad’s driveway, totally naked.

 As he was thinking, Brad thought back to their drive to get here. He and Chad had played a game of dares along the way, which was why they were now sitting here naked. They had come up what was a semi-main road, with farm groves on one side and housing developments on the other, until they got to the road leading to Chad’s house.

 Chad’s road led into a wooded area with only two other roads branching off after a mile or so to Chad’s neighbors, if you could even call them that because they didn’t hit the road that was Chad’s driveway for about another half-mile. No wonder Chad was so confident about tossing all the clothes, Brad thought to himself, he literally lived in isolation out here.

 Chad’s driveway was even another road unto itself. It was a dirt and gravel road up a hill, with an access road halfway up. Brad had also noticed some construction equipment as they drove up for what looked like maybe drainage or irrigation, he figured, before being brought back to reality by Chad trying to get his attention.

 Brad, yo, earth to Brad, Chad was waving his hand in front of Brad’s face, come on dude, snap out of it.

 What, huh, Brad said bringing his thoughts back to the present, oh, sorry. What were you saying ?

 I was saying, Chad continued with a level of urgency, that we need to be getting out of here before someone sees us sitting in the middle of the road and wonders who the hell we are and why we’re here and comes to see.

 Oh, yeah, Brad agreed, good idea. Where are we going to go ?

 Back up a bit, Chad replied, we can turn around in the access road back there.

 Right, cool, Brad acknowledged, I saw that when we passed. Good idea, Brad added as he shifted to reverse and positioned himself to look out the rear window.

 As he reversed into the access road to get in position to turn around, Chad remembered his father saying something about being careful in one spot because of a hole with just a board covering it. Before he could tell Brad to be careful and watch out for any boards or holes there was a sound of a loud crack as the car lurched backwards.

 Trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened, Chad realized he was looking at treetops and clouds out the front window of the car as his brain registered that Brad was motionless.

 Brad ! Chad nearly screamed but managed to compose himself in time to just yell. Brad, are you okay ? What happened ? Are you hurt ?

 Shit, f*ck, Brad cursed as he began to beat his forehead on the steering wheel, damn it to hell ! Yeah, he answered Chad, I’m fine, but what the hell happened ? We must have fell in some kind of sinkhole or something. I don’t know if we can even get out.

 They both stretched up a bit and leaned out their respective windows to try and determine what had happened. Surveying the situation, they realized that they did indeed fall in a hole. Not necessarily a full-blown sinkhole, but a hole big enough that the backend of the car broke the board covering the hole and fell right in.

 What are we going to do now, Chad asked as Brad just slumped back in his seat and beat his head on the steering wheel again, we’re going to need a crane to get us out of here.

 My Dad’s going to kill me, Brad responded, I am so dead. It was nice knowing you Stick.

 Dude, Chad asked, what are you talking about ?

 I’m still on my father’s insurance, Brad answered, he’s going to kill me. There’s no way he’s not going to find out about this, Brad continued, I am so dead.

 Before Chad could try and comfort his friend, they heard another crack followed by the car lurching downward again and a jet of water erupting upward from the bottom of the hole.

 You have got to be kidding me, Brad exclaimed as they both rushed to get their windows rolled up as water practically poured in from the fountain that had erupted below them. They both sat there, nearly already drenched from the brief period of time it took to raise the windows, watching the water cascade down onto the front window.

 Dude, Chad finally interjected, I hate to say it, but we need to get out of here.

 Brad looked at Chad as if that were the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever said. Okay genius, Brad practically screamed, where the hell do you think we’re going to go ? We’re not a rocket so we’re most definitely not going to be launching out of this damn hole anytime soon !

 Not the car, Chad refrained from taking offence, realizing Brad didn’t know what he meant, us. We, he emphasized the word pointing between the two of them, you and me need to get out of the car. If we don’t get out of the car, Chad continued to explain, surely somebody at the house heard something and is going to come down here and check it out.

 I don’t know about you, Chad elaborated further, but I do not want anyone to find me sitting here stark naked in a car in a hole.

[redsplash1]

Children do not belong on the battlefield.

Tatake always held this belief. Tonight’s events made this painfully clear.

Or, a mother steps up and comforts the children she has come to love.

AN: I wrote this right after Death Unto Dawn LMFAOOOO, imma post it here first since I’m not at my pc rn. I’ll post to ao3 after. Didn’t even edit, just take it as it is <3 As stated this is right after the battle at Carteneau, I also attached a pic of Tatake’s current look

Although a few things:

Tatake’s real name is Talia Dragonseer. As of now only the twins know about it, and call her Talia when nobody else is around

I’m still trying to figure out the backstory, but what I’m thinking so far is that Tatake is part of a long living species of Lalafell that are basically like the Laguz/Manaketes from Fire Emblem; They look human, but actually aren’t and can transform into whatever animal/dragon/fish/literally anything

The main thing is that Tatake and her people were initially like Sharlayan where they stayed out of everything and kept to themselves, until mankind found them and started hunting them down. This is why Tatake hides her power until she couldn’t anymore, as she refused to get involved with mankind after they ruined her life along with everyone else’s

Dragonseer technically isn’t her last name, it’s just the title she had as part of the High Council. But for the sake of keeping things simple, she considers it a last name if she has to, which is almost never since she uses Tatake Take for everything

Anyways imma stfu now, sorry in advance if the twins r ooc, I’ve never written for ffxiv before until now. Enjoy! <3

“Sit with me for a spell,” Tatake spoke into the air, breaking her gaze away from the moon, an everlasting witness to tonight’s horrors.

Alphinaud looked down at her with a frown. “There is still much to do, I’m afraid. We must-“

“Rest, yes.” The Lalafell met his eyes in challenge. The others had already broken off, tending to the wounded and going over battle logistics. Alisaie moved to do the same, but one sharp look from Tatake made her pause.

“You two will not help anyone if you collapse here in exhaustion,” she continued. “Leave the others to shoulder the burden for now…you need not carry it alone.”

“But-“ Alisaie started in protest.

“Come along.” With no room for argument, Tatake took the twins’ hands, dragging them along to a quieter corner. Alphinaud sputtered in surprise, while Alisaie was grumbling about wasting time.

Neither of them fought against her pull.

After motioning the twins to sit down, Tatake took her place between them, backs against the wall.

They exchanged no words for a time. The sounds of healing magic, along with the many voices of orders being given and carried served as their ambience.

Tatake was not oblivious to the clear slump of the twins once they sat down, both leaning against her. Without a word, she quietly linked her arms with theirs and took their hands in the process. She squeezed in reassurance, as a reminder, that she was still here. They squeezed back, and held on tight.

Tatake quietly exhaled through her nose. Being with the twins always reminded her of how young they were in comparison to the countless years she has. As she observed the wounded, the dead, the dying, she couldn’t help but think. This wasn’t fair.

Truly. It wasn’t. Not to them.

Why must Alphinaud and Alisaie exist in a world where the adults failed so badly they had no choice but to pick up the pieces?

“Was I naive?” Alphinaud’s quiet and unsure voice broke their silence. “Did Fordola have the right of it after all…? There’s so many I couldn’t save.”

“You did everything you could,” Tatake gently cut in. “The ones who made it past this night are still with us thanks to your efforts.

“Along with the Tempered,” she added, turning her head to Alisaie. The Elezen grimaced at the praise.

“I wasn’t fast enough. And I couldn’t supply enough Aether for everyone. I’ll be quicker and stronger next time.”

Tatake gently flicked her forehead in response.

“I will not sit here and listen to you downplay your efforts,” she chided over Alisaie’s sputters of offense.

Children do not belong on the battlefield.

Tatake always held on to this belief. Tonight’s events made this painfully clear.

She thought back to the many mortals she encountered over the years. In the wake of the calamities, it was impossible not to see a citizen haunted by the destruction, or a soldier fighting the monsters in their mind.

She thought back to Ishgard, to Alphinaud screaming himself awake haunted by dreams drenched in blood. She remembered holding him as he sobbed out broken apologies, towards her, towards the Scions, towards the bystanders who got caught up in the wrath of the Crystal Braves. She remembered his struggle to go about his life after, having to gently coax him to get out of bed nearly every day, if not all. She remembered bringing him food because he wouldn’t do it himself without a helping hand. She remembered wiping his tears as he shakily confided in her during the dead of night after a panic attack, holding her tightly as if he were afraid she would be gone if he let go.

She thought back to Ala Mhigo, to Alisaie gritting her teeth in agony as her wounds were addressed. She remembered creating a routine of checking up on her after every battle because she tried to patch herself up on her own without anybody knowing, leading to disastrous results. She remembered seeing her hands shake when she thought nobody was looking. She remembered the panic attacks she would suffer, having to gently but firmly guide her through them. She remembered the nightmares that she suffered just like her brother, unable to banish the sight of bloodied bodies and the smell of death from her mind. She remembered her and Lyse quietly holding her after a particularly violent night terror, the young Elezen unable to voice what happened but could guess at what it was. She remembered gently reassuring her everything would be alright, even as her brother was not with them, and wouldn’t be for a long time.

She thought back to the First, where the both of them had the same reaction of hugging her tight, refusing to let go for a while. She remembered hardly sleeping alone in her room in the Pendants, the twins joining her almost every night. She remembered holding Alisaie as she grieved for her lost love. She remembered gently reminding Alphinaud as Kai-Shirr ran off, that he was good, and he should never change that. She remembered futilely reassuring them that she would be alright, despite the Light eating her alive even with her draconic lineage. She remembered the endless tears they shed and the screams of despair they let out as Urianger and Thancred forcefully held them back from her painful transformation at Mt. Gulg.

This truly wasn’t fair.

She breathed in.

“You did good.” Tatake began, finishing her long contemplation. “You have done more than fully grown adults could ever hope to achieve. I’m sorry Fourchenault is a fool and will not say this, but I hope I will suffice.”

She breathed out.

“I’m proud of you.”

She knew her words had the intended effect when Alphinaud’s choked sobs and Alisaie’s stifled whimpers rang in the air. She let them hold her, let them cling onto the only consistent piece in their lives.

In a world like this, it’s okay to stick with the familiar.

In a world like this, it’s okay to cry.

“You’ve done much for Eorzea, and I will not ask you to turn your backs on her,” she continued. “But I ask that you do not carry the weight of the world on your own. We can share the burden with you.

“Like many of the hatchlings, pups, and many more I raised, they too have set off once they have come of age. I made sure they were ready for the world. But above all else, I made sure they had what you mortals call a childhood. I prioritized their youth. Your father failed you in this regard.

“Being a child is not lesser. You are still capable. But you are young. I’m sorry your elders have failed you. But for as long as I am able, let me preserve your youth, your innocence for as long as I can.”

At this point, Tatake felt just as much as heard their tears, their faces pressed against her soft hair. It’s alright. She didn’t mind.

“Okay?” Tatake softly asked.

“Okay.” Alphinaud hoarsely choked out, voice somewhat muffled by her hair and his tears.

“Mhm.” Alisaie couldn’t muster a word, eyes squeezed shut.

“Good. I love you both. Please, do not forget this.”

She paused. She had been thinking about it for a while, but after Fourchenault’s foolishness, she made up her mind.

“And if you so choose…you may no longer have the name of Leveilleur, but Dragonseer is yours, if you’d like. I always saw you as my hatchlings…no harm in making it official.”

In answer, Alphinaud moved his arms to hug them both, sobs renewed. Alisaie returned the gesture, tremors wracking her whole body. The twins had their foreheads pressed together, refusing to let go.

Even for all their bickering and teasing, they were there for one another without fail. Tatake was glad.

The Lalafell caught the eyes of the other Scions, who had busied themselves helping around the camp. Thancred gave them a sad smile. Y’shtola and Urianger nodded in understanding. Raha looked on, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. Estinien was a ways back, understanding their need for privacy. But his approval was clear.

Right now, the future may look bleak. Right now, death surrounds them all like a shroud, unable to be shrugged off.

But here in this moment, in their private little corner, it was just the three of them. A mother and her children, the former watching over them, and the latter growing into themselves so beautifully, day by day.

For now, here in this little spot against the wall, they were safe.

[orthodoxadventure]

Finally comes the last day, usually called "Forgiveness Sunday," but whose other liturgical name must also be remembered: the "Expulsion of Adam from the Paradise of Bliss." This name summarizes indeed the entire preparation for Lent. By now we know that man was created for paradise, for knowledge of God and communion with Him. Man's sin has deprived him of that blessed life and his existence on earth is exile. Christ, the Savior of the world, opens the door of paradise to everyone who follows Him, and the Church, by revealing to us the beauty of the Kingdom, makes our life a pilgrimage toward our heavenly fatherland. Thus at the beginning of Lent, we are like Adam:

Adam was expelled from paradise through food; Sitting, therefore, in front of it he cried: 'Woe to me . . . One commandment of God have I transgressed, depriving myself of all that is good; Paradise holy! Planted for me, And now because of Eve closed to me; Pray to thy Creator and mine that I may be filled again by thy blossom.' Then answered the Savior to him: 'I wish not my creation to perish; I desire it to be saved and to know the Truth; For I will not turn away from him who comes to Me. . .'

Lent is the liberation of our enslavement to sin, from the prison of "this world." And the Gospel lesson of this last Sunday (Matt 6:14-21) sets the conditions for this liberation. The first one is fasting -- the refusal to accept the desires and urges of our fallen nature as normal, the effort to free ourselves from the dictatorship of flesh and matter over the spirit. To be effective, however, our fast must not be hypocritical, a "showing off." We must "appear not unto men to fast but to our Father who is in secret." The second condition is forgiveness -- "If you forgive men their trespasses, your Heavenly Father will also forgive you." The triumph of sin, the main sign of its rule over the world, is division, opposition, separation, hatred. Therefore, the first break through this fortress of sin is forgiveness: the return of unity, solidarity, love. To forgive is to put between me and my "enemy" the radiant forgiveness of God Himself. To forgive is to reject the hopeless "dead-ends" of human relations and to refer them to Christ. Forgiveness is truly a "breakthrough" of the Kingdom into this sinful and fallen world.

More under the Readmore

Lent actually begins at Vespers of that Sunday. The unique service, so deep and beautiful, is absent from so many of our churches! Yet nothing reveals better the "tonality" of Great Lent in the Orthodox Church; nowhere is better manifested its profound appeal to man.

The service begins as solemn Vespers with clergy in bright vestments. The hymns (stichira) which follow the Psalm "Lord, I have cried . . ." announce the coming of Lent and, beyond Lent, the approach of Pascha!

Let us begin the time of fasting in light! Preparing ourselves for the spiritual efforts. Let us purify our soul; let us purify our body. As from food, let us abstain from all passion and enjoy the virtues of the spirit, so that perfected in time by love We may all be made worthy to see the Passion of Christ and the Holy Pascha In spiritual joy!

Then comes, as usual, the Entrance with the evening hymn: "O Gladsome Radiance of the holy glory. . ." The celebrant then proceeds to the "high place" behind the altar for the proclamation of the evening Prokeimenon which alwyas announces the end of one and the beginning of another day. This day's Great Prokeimenon announces the beginning of Lent:

Turn not away Thy face from Thy servant for I am afflicted! Hear me speedily. Attend to my soul and deliver it!

Listen to the unique melody of this verse -- to this cry that suddenly fills the Church: ". . . for I am afflicted!" -- and you will understand this starting point of Lent: the mysterious mixture of despair and hope, of darkness and light. All preparation has now come to an end. I stand before God, before the glory and the beauty of His Kingdom. I realize that I belong to it, that I have no other home, no other joy, no other goal; I also realize that I am exiled from it into the darkness and sadness of sin, "for I am afflicted!" And finally, I realize that only God can help in that affliction, that only He can "attend to my soul." Repentance is, above everything else, a desperate call for that divine help.

Five time we repeat the Prokeimenon. And then, Lent is here! Bright vestments are put aside; lights are extinguished. When the celebrant intones the petitions for the evening litany, the choir responds in the lenten "key." For the first time the lenten prayer of St. Ephraim accompanied by prostrations is read. At the end of the service all the faithful approach the priest and one another asking for mutual forgiveness. But as they perform this rite of reconciliation, as Lent is inaugurated by this movement of love, reunion, and brotherhood, the choir sings the Paschal hymns. We will have to wander forty days through the desert of Lent. Yet at the end shines already the light of Easter, the light of the Kingdom.

--Rev Dr. Alexander Schmemann: Great Lent - Journey to Pascha

[wastelandmoony]

Déjà Vécu: Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: Home

Characters: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader (no use of y/n), James Potter, Petter Pettigrew

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+ only!, angst, anxiety/overwhelming feelings, language, mentions of death and self harm, mentions of abuse.

Read on AO3

Companion Playlist

Déjà Vécu Masterlist

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

June 24th, 1972

Dear Remus,

I miss you! I know it’s only been a week or so, but I’m already bored out of my mind. I hope your summer is starting out well. Did you get James’ invite? I think I’ve convinced my mum to let me go, she just has to talk to Mrs. Potter to figure out details. I hope you can come too, Pete will be there as well, I’m not sure about Sirius though. 

Please get plenty of rest after the moon this week, and make sure to write me so I know you’re okay. 

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago— And now she turns Her perfect Face Upon the World below—

Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde— Her Cheek—a Beryl hewn— Her Eye unto the Summer Dew The likest I have known—

Her Lips of Amber never part— But what must be the smile Upon Her Friend she could confer Were such Her Silver Will …

-Emily Dickinson

———

June 25th, 1972

Lupin!

Everyone is staying over for a week this summer, and you need to be there! Last week of July. Mum said she can talk to your parents if that’ll help? 

Miss you mate.

-James

———

July 1st, 1972

Dear Remus,

You’re doing it again, please answer us. I can’t spend all summer in the dark, it’ll kill me. We’re going to Jamie’s at the end of the month. Please say you’ll come too.

I hope you’re well.

———

July 8th, 1972

Mate,

You’ve gotta answer one of us. If I get another panicked letter from her, I’m showing up to your house myself.

-Pete 

———

July 12th, 1972

Can’t write. I won’t be coming to James’.

Miss you too. See you in September.

R.L.

The letter was short and a little tattered. Remus’ usual tidy penmanship was now something scrawled hurriedly across the beat up piece of parchment. She read it over and over, trying to find something in between the lines that could clue her in to whatever was going on. 

She came up with nothing.

———

July 30th, 1972

Mrs. Potter had given instructions on how to get to “the manor”, as she called it. She offered to apparate them over, but her parents insisted on driving themselves. Being a primarily magical little town, the sight of a muggle vehicle stunned any resident that happened upon it. She sat in the backseat of the old Volvo, watching as face after face of shocked, concerned, or intrigued witches and wizards passed by. As they turned onto Thistledown Road, the houses became larger and further apart. She wondered which one was Pete’s as they continued on, finally coming to a stop in front of an old grey-stoned home. 

Potter Manor was impressive, but not extravagant; elegant, but not indulgent. It felt welcoming, though she had yet to even step foot on the grounds. The flower bushes and trees that lined the front walk were manicured neatly, but not in a way that made them look uniform, just tidy. As she and her parents made their way up the pebbled walkway, the deep oak front door opened, a cheery woman smiling ear to ear on the other side.

“Hiya! Welcome!” She chimed, extending an arm to usher them inside, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet in person, James has been talking about his new school friends non-stop.”

A man she recognized as James’ father emerged from an adjoining room, matching his wife’s smile and immediately extending his hand in greeting. Mr. Potter looked over at her, and she noticed the same glimmer of mischief in his eye that she always caught in James’.

“The boys are ‘round back if you want to join them,” he grinned, motioning down the main hallway. 

She hugged her parents goodbye, eager to see her friends. Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder before she could run away, “Be good, listen to whatever Mr. and Mrs. Potter say, alright?”

Mrs. Potter tutted, “Oh please, call us Monty and Euphemia. Any friend of our James is part of the family now.” 

She refused to call them that. Her parents raised her to respect her elders, so the thought of calling her friends parents anything other than a formal address was absolutely insane. 

She nodded an acknowledgement at her mother before bounding off to find the two boys. 

Potter Manor could be best describe as warm. Everything about it exuded a comfortable, homey vibrance; from the golden wood floors to the deep burgundy curtains (they really were Gryffindor’s through and through). She slowed her pace to briefly look at some family photos hung in the hall, watching as a young James zoomed around on a tiny broom while his dad watched on. Her parents were younger than his, and in these pictures they still looked older than hers were when they first had her. For being at their advanced age, they seemed to be pretty youthful. 

Continuing down the hall, she passed through the French doors leading to the back garden, finding James and Peter flying around a set of quidditch hoops on the grass. Upon spotting her, James smiled and swooped down, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her a few feet off the ground. 

“JAMIE!—“ she squealed and kicked her feet. 

James laughed as he set her down, Pete landing alongside with a grin. 

The old stone Manor sat on a large piece of land, the back garden stretching over acres of field and hills. She took in the sight of the large willow tree in the distance, standing watch over a decent sized pond. As ecstatic as she was to be here with her two friends, there was a big chunk missing. 

James caught on to her sinking smile immediately, “They’re not coming…” 

She had known the answer, just refused to believe it fully. James was upset about the situation as well, she could tell by the way his eyebrows dipped slightly in the middle. There was nothing they could do about it, so they set out to try and make the best of the week they had together.

If Mr. and Mrs. Potter raised James in any capacity like the way her and Peter were doted upon while staying at the manor, then she completely understood why he turned out the way that he did. Every morning they woke up to a full breakfast, Euphemia Potter scurrying around the kitchen with the aid of the family’s house elf. Monty would join the rest of them a short time later, asking for a full run-down on the day’s activities; she noticed that he asked less like a parent, and more like an enthusiastic participant. He would then engage in lively banter with the three of them about quidditch, something that she tried to keep up with as best she could. Over the past year of living in the Wizarding world, she had gotten into the habit of drawing a lot of correlations between magical and muggle phenomena. Quidditch, she had concluded, was a lot like football; everyone had a team they stuck by through thick and thin, the Potter’s being Puddlemere United. Pete’s family grew up supporting the Ballycastle Bats, something that drew great ire from both James and his father. She didn’t have a favorite team, quidditch or football for that matter, so she was just happy to be included in the conversation as a neutral party, eager to absorb as much information as possible.

“—you’ll have to come to a Cup with us next time!” James practically leapt out of his chair at the thought. 

“Oh dear, yes you must. It’s always such a wonderful experience, even for me, and I could give a niffler’s toe about the sport itself,” Mrs. Potter called from the sink. 

James and Peter began to ramble about the last time the World Cup was held in Britain back in the 60’s, while she watched a sleek tawny owl gracefully land on the windowsill over the sink.

“Oh! Fantastic, your supply lists have arrived,” Mrs. Potter sifted through the pieces of parchment, “I sent an owl to Dumbledore when we finalized these plans, and he was gracious enough to send all three to the Manor! We’ll make the trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow, sound good?”

The three of them nodded, while she thought about the last time she had tried to navigate the winding street with her muggle parents. Now that she knew what to expect, she couldn’t wait to make a day out of it.

———

Diagon Alley was bustling when they arrived, packed with students purchasing items for the new school year. This time last year, she was gripping her mothers hand while trying to traverse the sea of magical shops, completely overwhelmed and unsure of everything. Today, she was flanked by two of her best friends, bracketed in by Mrs. Potter who led the way through the winding cobblestone street. Their supply lists were virtually identical, classes would diverge next year when they would begin to choose their own respective magical paths. This year however, they were buying the same ingredients, books, and instruments, orchestrated and executed by Mrs. Potter; the three of them were just along for the ride. 

As they left Dervish and Banges, she noticed a familiar dark haired boy exit an adjacent alleyway with a tall, severe looking woman; a younger version of the boy glued to her side. 

“Sirius!—“ James called, waving aggressively at his best friend across the busy street. They couldn’t have have been more than a few meters away, well within earshot, yet Sirius did not give them so much as a glance. 

She furrowed her brows, looking between Sirius’ downcast face, and James’ deflating expression. The younger Black shot a glare towards them, chilling her as they approached Flourish and Blotts. Mrs. Potter ascended the front steps of the bookstore, as James made one last attempt to get his friend’s attention.

“Sirius—“ he didn’t yell this time, just speaking loud enough for the few of them to hear. She watched as Sirius’ eyes quickly shot to James’, making no other physical move towards them. Pete sighed and began to follow after Mrs. Potter who was holding the door open, watching the exchange from afar. James’ eyes were pleading with Sirius, the latter boy fixated on a cobblestone in the street. 

She grabbed James’ sleeve, pulling him towards the store, “C’mon Jamie…”

He hung his head, moving towards his mother who gave him a tight smile. 

Before following, she looked back at Sirius, fists clenched at his sides as his mother spoke with another wretched looking witch behind him. His younger brother watched silently, pale eyes still boring holes into her. 

“Siri…” she inched closer and reached out, grabbing onto his hand, which immediately relaxed, squeezing her fingers in return. 

“WHAT HAVE WE SAID—“ his mother had practically apparated over, wrenching Sirius away by his other arm, “—ABOUT MINGLING WITH THE LOWER CLASS!” 

“Lower class?…” she scoffed, finally meeting the eyes of Walburga Black. They were like dead stars, deep unending voids sitting high on her alabaster face.

“—do not presume to speak to me or my family! Just because Dumbledore allows the likes of your kind to attend Hogwarts does not mean that the rest of the magical world will be so tolerating—,” she spat, face contorting into a wicked snarl. 

“—THAT WILL BE QUITE ENOUGH,” before she could respond, Mrs. Potter had strode down the steps, gently placing an arm around her shoulders. 

“James, dear,” she spoke calmly while keeping a steady eye on Walburga, “please take everyone inside, get the necessary books and add it to our account.”

She squeezed her arm, letting her know to follow orders without argument. 

Mrs. Potter squared her shoulders, her normally warm eyes now hard and unforgiving as she stared at Walburga Black. Sirius took the opportunity to slip away from his mother and slink into the store after James. 

Inside Flourish and Blotts, the four of them crouched by the window to watch the exchange between the two witches. They couldn’t hear what was being said, but Mrs. Potter was pointing a finger in the pinched face of Walburga, mouth moving a mile a minute as the pale witch watched on with crossed arms, her younger son waiting with an indecipherable glare.

She glanced over at Sirius, his face gaunt and eyes tired. Snaking a hand down, she found his fingers again, squeezing them tightly as he intertwined them. The question didn’t need to be asked, he wasn’t okay, they all knew it. 

After a few moments, Mrs. Potter began to walk towards the store, still speaking directly to Walburga, and Sirius straightened up.

“I’ve uh…I’ve gotta go…” he mumbled, not taking his eyes off his family outside.

She didn’t say goodbye, but instead threw her arms around his shoulders in a bone crushing hug. His arms snaked around her middle, burying his face in her shoulder. He didn’t make a move to let go, something that he had never done before. He clung to her like a lifeline for a few moments, steadying his breathing. Finally, he let go slowly, and she saw the tears in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away before nodding a goodbye at James and Peter. 

“See you on the train…” he whispered before leaving the shop. 

She watched as Mrs. Potter passed him, placing a comforting hand on the top of his head as he joined his mother, trudging off alongside his brother. 

“—an insufferable woman,” Mrs. Potter huffed as she rejoined the three of them, shaking her head sadly, “Jamie, did you get the books?”

James shook his head, eyes downcast as he thought of his friend. 

Mrs. Potter tutted, putting a hand on her sons cheek, “He’ll be alright, dear. Don’t fret.”

In true James Potter fashion, he immediately straightened up and adopted a stiff upper lip, nodding in agreement. 

“Right then,” He clapped his hands together, “books…”

He quickly disappeared down an aisle full of tomes about transfiguration, Pete following closely behind with their lists. As she moved to pursue her friends, Mrs. Potter placed a gentle hand on her arm.

“…are you alright, love?” 

She looked up at the older witch, giving her a small smile, “Yes, I’m okay. Thank you.”

Mrs. Potter’s eyes tore through her, a motherly look that mirrored her own. She placed a comforting arm around her small shoulders, ushering her in the direction that the boys disappeared to. 

———

The final night at Potter Manor was her favorite, though bittersweet. After a day of playing pick-up games of quidditch in the yard (she was actually quite good as a chaser they found out), the Potter’s house elf orchestrated a barbecue on the back lawn, the five of them eating on the stone patio watching the sun set behind the large willow tree. Afterwards, Mr. Potter created a roaring bonfire to which he told old ghost stories and Wizarding fables to the three children. She had loved every second of it, only finding herself slightly afraid of one particularly chilling tale involving something called a boggart. 

Mr. and Mrs. Potter bid the three of them goodnight around 10:00, the latter cautioning them to not stay up too late. They stayed in the sitting room until well past midnight, playing games of exploding snap and wizard chess until Pete eventually passed out against the arm of the couch. 

“Hey, Jamie—“ she whispered as she picked up the playing cards, careful not to wake their sleeping friend. 

James hummed in response, sleep evident in his drooping eyelids. 

“—what do you know about Sirius’ family?”

She watched as his heavy eyes opened fully, mouth pressed into a grim line. 

“They’re…one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” he said with a sort of finality to the statement, like it was all the excuse needed. 

“No, I know that,” she murmured, “I mean like—well you’ve seen how Sirius is around them…”

James shifted in his seat on the floor, running a hand through his hair.

“The Blacks are one of the oldest pureblood families,” he sighed, “It’s what they value most, it’s even in their house words: Toujours Pur. Always Pure. They’re of the belief that muggleborns are not…worthy of using magic, that they’re somehow stealing it—“

“—but that’s not true! I didn’t—“ 

James looked at her sternly, “—trust me, I know. My family is pureblood as well, so it’s Pete’s, neither of us believe that load of rubbish. The Black family…they’re…well, they’re into dark magic, probably why the lot of them have been sorted into Slytherin for 500 years. My dad works at the ministry, and I’ve overheard him talk about some of them before.”

“What do you mean, ‘dark magic’?” She whispered, pulling her legs to her chest. 

“Well, rumor has it that they’re followers of You-Know-Who…though it can’t be confirmed according to my dad.”

“…You-Know-Who?” She gave a questioning look as he took a sip from the now cold tea on the coffee table. 

“You-Know-Who,” James’ voice became even quieter, “Voldemort, he’s uh…he’s a dark wizard. Has a lot of wild ideas about muggleborns, magical beings, and the muggle world. He wants to…eradicate anyone and anything that’s not pureblood or half-blood at least,” James’ trailed off, gaze falling to the carpet. 

Her breath had caught in her throat, threatening to suffocate her completely.

“My parents have been talking about it secretly more and more. It started about a year or so ago, just whispers in passing, but now my dad is getting stuck at the Ministry longer and longer each week, and my mum is frequently having high ranking wizards and witches over for meetings in the study.”

Her voice came out as barely a whisper, “Jamie…what’s happening?”

James scooted closer to her on the floor, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. He was warm, and smelled like cut grass and bonfire smoke, the scent grounding her for a moment. Remus might be her other half, but James Potter felt like home.

“I’m not sure, but it’ll be okay. I promise,” he squeezed her shoulders. 

“What about Sirius?” She tipped her head against his.

James paused for a beat before answering, something that did little to ease her worries.

“…Sirius will be fine. He’s—he’s stronger than you know,” He shifted uncomfortably.

“They’re—they’re hurting him. Aren’t they, James…” 

The notion she had realized after Christmas holiday, the day Sirius showed up to Kings Cross with soulless eyes and a bruised exterior, had been living in the back of her mind ever since; never vocalized, or dwelled upon, but always present. The words weighed heavy in the air, the two friends grappling with an ever-darkening worldview. 

James sighed, and she felt his fingers flex against her arm, “…yeah.”

Choking down the sob that was threatening to escape, she nodded in confirmation. He pulled her closer, until the two of them succumbed to sleep, leaning against each other in every sense of the word.

[adelha-mathilde]

Adelha X Lucifer (Obey Me!) NSFW fic

summary: The Avatar of Pride makes a choice. Soon bringing Adelha into his life, and heart, to love and cherish as they both want.

characters: Adelha (main OC of this rp blog), Lucifer

content: NSFW meant for mature readers only, romance, intimacy

Lucifer was in his study to be in deep thought at his window. The glass of aged Demonus soon empty as he gulps down the last of it before huffing out a breath of pure emotion. His study now adorned with dozens of photographs of his brothers with a very specific woman. A dragon maiden born of the Fae to be smiling or laughing in those moments of captured time. The love apparent in every face and feature for Lucifer to place a hand to his face and shiver. Conflict within himself as he debated endlessly in his own mind and heart.

The D.D.D. on his desk held a very long text conversation. With Diavolo and a man by the name of Eugene Currier. A man who was the current head of the Currier clan as well as Adelha Mathilde's distant relative. But the more accurate word for Eugene would be beloved adopted father to the woman who was the sole subject of the conversation. Lucifer had been texting his conflicts for months at this point to gain as much ground in his future decision as much as possible. Diavolo openly pleased to be the middle man between Lucifer and Eugene. But now the last text had Lucifer in a highly agitated state. Since Eugene had finally given his full blessings to the Avatar of Pride in proposing to Adelha. Leaving Lucifer elated and terrified at the same time.

The knock on the door had been expected despite the flinch Lucifer allowed himself. His words practiced and silken to say, "Please do come in, Margaret. I have been expecting you." Adelha entered the study to look deeply concerned. Her steps rushed as she approached Lucifer to soon place her gloved hands on his shoulders. "None of your brothers would explain why you've been absent from the student council. No one would even answer me when I asked why you've been keeping your distance. So your call left me sprinting right over. Lucifer. Just what is going on with you?"

Lucifer gave a heaving sigh of air to then reach his own gloved hands up and cup Adelha's face. A smile there despite the fact his heart was going double time in sheer nervous expectation. Something he knew full well Adelha would hear with her exceptional senses. Yet his words were rich and deep with molten intensity when he gazed at her. "Your guardian Claude would call me a lovestruck swooning teenager. Which I would not deny in this moment. After all the seasons and celebrations we have shared, I am left vulnerable. Weakness overcomes me when I take you in, Margaret. The years with you as a friend and confidant have been priceless. Your courtship has left me utterly spellbound with gleeful anticipation of what comes next. But I want to make us into more."

Adelha goes rigid for both her hands to cover her mouth in stunned surprise. Lucifer's smile turning more into a smirk as he gently wraps his arms around Adelha's waist to nudge her ever closer. That touch against her ribs the give away that her heart was matching his own in tempo. A confession in itself as Lucifer leaned in for that eager kiss. The taste of blood oranges and vanilla there for him to savor and nip at as Adelha shuddered in his arms. But she soon gave into his kiss with shy wanting and a soft purr in her throat. Leaving him awash in sunshine and joy as Lucifer chuckled. "Margaret. Please. Be my wife. My bride. My equal in all I am. Give unto me your being and let me do the same. I love you with such vastness I am lost to the depths of stars in your gaze. Please."

Lucifer then opened his hand for there to be a glittering band of white gold. Adelha giving a squeak as he waited. But soon Adelha smiled to open her own hand and reveal a ring of her own making. One with deep braided metals as well as a band of molten diamonds to be crowned with a dragon symbol. Her intention matching his as they exchanged the rings right away. So it was that Lucifer swept Adelha into his arms to nestle his nose to her neck. Her own words sweet and gentle as she spoke ancient vows. "As per my family traditions and the ways of the Fae. Lucifer. You are now my beloved mate. We are now one under all existence for always. Bride and groom to love and cherish."

Lucifer felt tears sting his eyes as he cradled his world to his front with a happy hum of molten love. His teeth soon nipping at Adelha's burned side of her neck to leave her trembling in his hold. "Mine... All mine... At last!" Lucifer then threw all semblance of caution away before he moved them to the couch. Stripping his clothes with effortless ease as Adelha gasped and shivered at his touches. The fire roaring in the hearth to be the only light when all the candles blew out at once to leave them some shadows for coverings. Lucifer gave his all in capturing his bride in the sacred worship of making love. His touch and tongue doing what words of poetry would be given in sonnets. A dance of pure bliss for the two to savor as the hours bled away into the deep night.

By the time Lucifer is more aware of the time, he has already snuck his wife away into the bathtub for her to look absolutely melted. His smile rich and full as he leans in to kiss Adelha sweetly. But then a knock has the door come loose for the bathroom door to swing open. Leaving Adelha squeaking as Asmodeus grabs the doorknob to keep his frame in between the bathroom and the hallway. The Avatar of Lust going bug eyed before he grins like a cat that stole all the cream in the kingdom. "I knew it! I just knew it! Eugene gave his blessing! This is the best day of my life! Lucifer! I am so happy for you right now!" Lucifer gives an heavy sigh as Asmodeus closes the door to start shouting to the rest of the house of Lamentation that Adelha is now part of the family as their sister in law. The other brothers soon joining in the shouting to be cheering and laughing as Lucifer leans his head back to grumble. But Adelha leans in to nestle her head to his heart and purr. "Never a quiet moment. But you really cannot be mad at them for being so happy over this. Can you, my souls bond?"

Lucifer gave a huff to shake his head as he felt a headache coming on. But Adelha just washed her magic over him to ease the headache completely and leave him feeling refreshed. His words coming out easier as he smiles. "I believe we will need to prepare for a whirlwind of a month. They will not let you leave anytime this year, Margaret. Face it. We're stuck with them." Adelha giggles to note with rich humor, "Hence the new portal door in the entranceway I saw. My apothecary shop is now connected to the house." Lucifer smirked to note with molten good cheer, "But of course. We'll need it for an escape route. Or a red herring if we instead head for Germany instead."

*********

The House of Lamentation was anything but this evening. What with all the happy laughter and cheerful voices filling the house. The walls now adorned with even more photographs of Lucifer and Adelha's new life with the Demon Brothers. Which included their children to be smiling or laughing as the seasons rolled by. A full family painting now in the main dining room to hold the entire family as the brothers saw to their youngest treasures. Beelzebub was currently seated with a very adorable little human girl in his lap to help her with cutting up her chicken so she may eat it with no issues. Her eight year old pout apparent as she muttered out, "I could do it myself, Uncle Teddy..." Beel chuckled to give her a loving hug with one arm as he smiled. "I know, Tomiko. But your papa told you to let us do this for you right now. At least until your cast comes off your arm. So until you are all healed up from your rollerblading accident, you get to let me spoil you." Tomiko grumbled to just turn her gaze to Lucifer with a kind of quiet acceptance. While Belphegor was feeding a very happy little demon boy in his wheelchair another bite of fried rice. The boy giggling as Belphegor hummed at him in amusement. "Never thought I would see a kiddo that just inhales vegetables and rice look you do, Hamza. Do you like them that much?"

The little demon nods to wiggle and give squeaks of noise that signal he wants more. So Belphegor does so as Asmodeus is taking a video of the family with his phone. Soon pausing on Mammon when he notices the Avatar of Greed currently bouncing the baby girl he has in a carrier on his chest. Mammon raising an eyebrow to ask, "Something wrong?" Asmodeus shakes his head to just openly gush. "Nope. But it is just so sweet to see Uncle Mams with our darling little Janan like this. She always falls right to sleep when you hold her." Mammon smiles to give the dozing baby against his heart a gentle pat on the back before he goes back to eating. "What can I say? She's a keeper." Leviathan is currently the one to be keeping Wesson the dog in his lap to give the beagle mix chin scratches with his own tail. While Satan is content with having Aqua in his lap for her to purr like a mini motor. Asmodeus soon turning himself to capture Adelha and Lucifer in the frame. "Hey hey! It's our favorite swooning lovebirds! Just back from Europe and with our newest additions to the family currently in the bassinet by the table! So tell us all, you two! Did your second honeymoon and delivery of twin dragon princesses go well?"

Lucifer openly smiles to reach in and fetch his daughter with the prominent ebony black hair from the bassinet. Holding her like so Asmodeus can get a full view for the video as Lucifer speaks. "Say hello to Cordelia. My wonderful little dragon of the sea." Asmodeus just gushes and coos to say, "Addy! Show us our other little dragon girl! We have to see her with her sister!" So Adelha does just that to lift up a much tinier baby girl with waves of deep red hair. "As you wish, Asmodeus. This little one is Avalyn. A very sweet little dragon indeed." Asmodeus almost drops his phone as he tears up to sniffle a bit. "So precious. They are just too perfect. Really. I have never been so happy in my life."

Lucifer nods to soon lean in so as to wrap his wife and other daughter into a group hug. His rumble of pure love and joy as Adelha purrs into his embrace. While the brothers smile and cheer for Lucifer to sigh. "My world is a kingdom of joy and chaos. But it one I savor with every breath and heartbeat. Thank you for all this and more, my wife of beautiful splendor. Thank you."

[lazerv4]

Thoughts on Heavenly Delusion

Just my raw thoughts, not a review or anything

What is heaven? Is it a place where you can get the most comfort? Is it a place where your friends are? A seemingly perfect community with your friends? Well, whatever it is Kiruko and Maru are looking for it and you are joining them on this endless journey to find something they don't even know let alone if it exists at all.Heavenly Delusion is a story segmented in twos, the journey and the mystery, the relationship with the self and others, the story of the post apocalypse and from the area so called "Heaven." The A plot centers around 2 young adults Kiruko and Maru trying to find heaven as mentioned previously, their world has been mostly decimated yet is somehow still functional and surprisingly hopeful for the genre, their mission? to find a place called heaven so Maru can find someone that looks exactly like him and give them something, however since they have no clue where to even start they mainly wander around and stumble unto clues that lead them further in their journeys be it their own personal issues, just character growth through random encounters or their main quest to figure out what the actual fuck is heaven. This is the story of the journey and the self, the traveling serves the purpose of furthering both our protagonists learning more and more about themselves and identifying who they are as people since both suffer from massive identity issues in their own respective ways that I won't spoil since they are significant plot moments and I would encourage everyone who can take a story like this to engage with it. The B plot is the mystery and interpersonal side as we follow a girl named Tokio who looks eerily similar to Maru living in a gated and technologically advanced community which leads into your first set of conclusions, is that heaven? maybe but we won't know for a while since the plot is about how Tokio related to her fellow classmates and develops as a person in this isolationist environment that she finds herself in. Before going into spoilers I wanna give a special mention to the opening sequence "innocent arrogance" which might be my favorite of any 2023 sho, perfectly encompassing everything about it and having small details that make more and more sense as you unravel the mysteries of the show.

SPOILERS AHEAD

The pacing made the mystery intensify so much as little breadcrumbs where given, be it Kiruko's identity being a mix of two people struggling to regain a self of self and recover his beloved sister who's body he now inhabits and find both Robin a previous friend who turns out to be a terrible person that did unspeakable things to his sister and a medic the show still doesn't address as it's probably an endgame solution. The twist about the Hirukos not only indeed being people after the fake out of it was decently shocking until we further learn that all the character we were following on the heaven side of the story are those Hirukos once they left into the real world since further twisting everything, it all took place in the past and Tokio is not the person that Maru needs to reach, Tokio is actually his mother and he has a twin or clone he needs to find so that explains how he has a connection to the Hirukos but not yet how he can kill them or why he heals any injury like his broken tooth. Every single time something unravels it answers your questions but also brings more questions and more depth to the story that is already pretty complex not only in themes but its story. And the details only make sense looking back, its the kind of show that upon a rewatch its gonna feel very different and you can get a little preview of it with the opening as little things like Kiruko being separated between here lines and colors as she runs probably alludes to her body and mind being two separate entities struggling to find themselves as a whole now or how it hints at both of Maru's abilities with simple back to back visuals of him jumping from and incredible hight and then a flower sprouting from his hand, only to be juxtaposed with it being turned into a techy effect that becomes a tree further adding to the speculation of his identity as a child of Tokio or possibly a clone of the real child. It all just flows into a perfect set of escalating mysteries that will keep you guessing what is happening all the time while still feeding you enough clues to figure out older events and their further purpose. It's very Pepe Silvia in that way.

SPOILERS END

If Heavenly Delusion ever comes back as an anime and wraps up, it has the potential to be one of the greatest of all time and if it doesn't then the manga is already on its way. Just an absolute masterpiece that will age better as it develops more.

[raviosprovidence]

aaaaa please tell me about your projects

Sure thing!

As of right now I have 4 *Big Main Projects*. Some of them are connected, have spin offs, whatever. A lot have also changed, especially the older ones, from what they once were. I'll give the basic rundown of each.

Welcome to Wintercrest: In the sleepy town of Wintercrest, all sorts of mythical creatures live together in a sort of harmony. However, monsters, animal-like beasts from other dimensions have gotten lose and invaded the peace. Monster hunters, people with extreme skill and a knowledge of monsters, either kill or otherwise apprehend these beasts.

Aubrey, an 18 year old fire elemental, is the newest recruit for the monster hunters. She finds herself as an outsider, with nothing but her own wit and sometimes uncontrollable powers keeping her safe. But when monster hunters start turning up dead, fingers start getting pointed at everyone. Will she be able to solve the mystery with her new friends? Or will she just end up another dead hunter?

Heirs of Disaster: The dragon realm is in turmoil. With no Dragon Knight in the past 100 years, there hasn't been anyone to keep the peace. In the orila kingdom, Princess Amavirla is plotting out her plan for realm wide domination, and she'll achieve it by having the dragon knight themselves on her side.

Enter: Bri. A half dragon half lightning elemental high school student who has just moved to the town of Mirstone, which is only populated by dragons. All she wants to do is finish off the year and go off to college. But adventure seems to find her wherever she goes, and she can't shake the feeling that the voices she hears her head aren't just a random occurrence. Will she heed the call to adventure? or will she keep her head down and try to be a "normal teenager?"

Realms: Someone's gotta keep the realms safe from threats, and that's where these guys come in! The realm hopper society lives in their own little pocket dimension where they can travel to almost any realm possible. They keep multi-realm threats safe, and sometimes do other stuff to help out if things are too dangerous for citizens

During a routine adventure stopping a mad scientist, Willow, a cat shifter from Earth, gets her memory completely erased in a freak accident. All she remembers is her name, her species, and where she's from. Her closest co workers have of course taken her under their wing, helping her regain her memories and integrate back into her job. but as time goes on, and more memories return, things they are telling her aren't adding up. Will she seek out the truth? Or will she comfortably settle back into the routine she's learned?

Divine Rangers: this is my newest one so it's still very much in development, but I am very happy with it.

Thousands of years ago un the world of Agia, the gods roamed the earth. However, their petty squabbles and constant in fighting caused untold destruction unto the land. Thus, in order to let humanity thrive, they sealed themselves off in the godly realms. However, monsters from the godly realms seek to destroy humanity, as they are not powerful enough to destroy the gods. In retaliation, the gods grant one human each a portion of their power to become Divine rangers. They fight to protect humanity, and understand that with great power comes great responsibility.

Aster is a completely normal adult. She lives her life quietly in her small town of Saker Keep at her parent's mechanic shop, along with her group of friends. However, she has reached a rough patch with her relationships, finding it hard to maintain them and at the precipice of losing everyone she cares about. But one night, a goddess comes to her in a dream. The goddess claims to be Zoranaea, an unknown goddess who has been trapped in Chronun (a darker godly realm) for hundreds of years. She has finally learned how to access humanity, and wants to help the mortal world in any way she can. Aster accepts her offer, and becomes the flora ranger. Will she fully rise to the challenge and learn how to take control of her life? Or will Aster falter yet again and ruin what little she has left?

Feel free to ask about more! I don't have a ton of concept art but i should be getting some soon from a good friend.

[vicsuragi]

Calico Jack for the character asks?

i mean it was going to be cj or harry du bois

favorite thing about them - i love everything about cj unfortunately, but if i could only pick one aspect of him it's how he's just a little manipulator. i love a deceitful dishonest little bitch who's having the time of his life <3

least favorite thing about him - that he is probably canonically dead and i will never hear him say his stupid bullshit sayings ever again </3

favorite line - it's sentimental bastard it's jack calling izzy a sentimental bastard, the line that sailed my favorite ofmd ship.

brotp - ed/jack, i do ship them in a not-so-friendly way as well but i like them as friends and i love fics about ed and cj being friends on hornigold's ship.

otp - cjizzy it's obviously cjizzy they are everything to me. this comes as a surprise to nobody.

notp - i don't really have one for jack? like i cannot think of one main character where it would not be hot or fun to do jack unto them.

random headcanon - jack has a prince albert. that is all.

unpopular opinion - that i love him i guess? idk i've loved him since day one and it seems that it took a while for anyone else in the fandom to latch onto him, there's a little pocket of jack stans now but i still run the risk looking up any fanfiction with cj since most will use him as a villain and not as a hot girl like he truly is.

song i associate with them - i can't choose between one or the other so "turn to hate" and "bronco" by orville peck. probably "turn to hate" moreso, but now i've made it so i can't hear either song without picturing him on a mechanical bull.

favorite picture of them - i have this one in a double frame with a pic of disheveled izzy so here you go:

(but i also like him post-getting beaned in the head with a coconut with blood pouring out of his mouth. good times <3)

[libidomechanica]

“Tho pumie stone, mockd”

Where young man, with just not the sea.     And now it, to corps, among their eyes, ne’re look down her grace     weak Love or me the roses that rather kill me, that phrase     seem lost in the mark of

you to quell, and main, not know what     farther heath as is a wond’rous thou doest prayse? Whether in     a new order of our spring all weep the read, hear, All     her conduct nice, and pour’d

such as of one if she took upon     the meant well she touch’d by thought not moves the caves. My heart,     I said, unto his owne woe; so the good Simplicius asks     of horrors of what a

man who speak not find. For the limb     the dishevell’d weapons: match’d with that I could calm me could     equals? Tho pumie stone, mock’d upon this may be nearest hut     the woods about dream of

ants the way of rest was stung; where     before than he thought till she beheld his leisure for life,     make a blush rising in the bonds broke? While mosques and religion     take his ape, in a

Hercules his second toe a     little, perhaps it would be forest-queen’—but as stars to     give back his next day; but sae that my Muse, now farewell: for     changed, or as sad as he

turn, join and beauty that only     hast thou dost lie—a close— late obtaine. Planet than spite of     Johnson retired away much know, which victory, and soft and     led thee, when matters.

Mortality! A golden crown of     face something something but to polish all order’d upon.     Were more—thou love of my heart mine. Nothing of solemn light,     her Lord was just the briar?

But he, than though I want of     ten years of the assembly, as any harm, alas, here     is all we will no other, and night. With pity: even     as smooth-kissing did not

proud, but may seem lost breath, when I     answer to thy heart whilome was stranged to indite. Amongst     mortal surgeons who can lay an European flag,     slides there’s the state the

Christian at her to sing be such     troops, and loathed furrows in your Man. Yet have to dye. But Johnson     said: glory on: when you meet the door, to teares doen     advaunce: the bees seem by

the tree. Fool, and I wanton layes     to warre. Or lace better too simple pray’r, childless of Time;     when flowers o’er he camera chase the tears, were firm, or lies     for which scarcely rose twining

Orient, which arch’d at the     eyes. Then on a string? Sooner heart; but only the steady     break no farce on the flashing is blest but I. At dinner,     she have day I was

admirer take, find it is not go,     though diviner heart be put according you write fifty     years spent its chief pacha calmly held dear; by what are but     you! Myself—but out like

Nero, o’ercame the ear such playnts,     as if once dead: where the feast, than thousand snatch when that’s in     his eyes, thousand hand, for that did speak truth and far, thrilling     truth, she ought except when

the dishes and Minerva’s eyes,     both th’ Indian gratitude. I to creature, fie!     But the watery face coins the stature to roam. Warm bout     all sorts of Netherlands

and Minerva when his gifts might     meet. The Night; call thee. And still a husband is, the fatal     to those her side, and haste occur, though loves ask less thankful     sighs I blessedness to

be identical masks, Tiptoe     up took of herself, and no griefe to my daughter she walls     men know, all the wood, which they lie t is said to him, address     might o ioyfull verse.

[talenlee]

Prime Factors

Back in April, I wanted to write an article on my birthday about Prime numbers that segued into talking about Optimus Prime. It didn’t work out, because I got distracted by a dumb number problem. See, I turned a prime number this year! At first I thought I’d do a whole thing about prime numbers and my birthdays only to find that at literally no point in my life have I ever been a prime age in a prime year. This is really obvious when you think about it, because I was born in an odd-numbered year. That means every year where my age was an odd number, that year was an even number, and vice versa. So much for that idea.

But really, you know what the real prime reason for the prime season is? That’s right, it’s really all about him, and what he sacrificed for us:

Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.

It’s supposedly, Optimus Prime’s iconic line, the line that guides his whole persona for the entirety of my life. It is the one iconic home run of the storytelling edifice that is Transformers media and in a collection of several thousand different characters, it’s rare that a single one of them has so excellently been crystallised early. Like, we’re pretty clear on how Bumblebee jams now as a friend to little kids and okay, maybe now I’m just thinking of him as the Bumblebee from Transformers Animated, but we’ve had a few iterations of almost every single character from the franchise.

Almost always, these characters are just endless reinventions on a general vibe. Transformers Prime supposedly made a tragedy of the death of this guy, called Ironhide? Who supposedly mattered? But it was very funny in the context of someone who knows the character as A Present Red Thing In Group Shots. There’s a recurrent joke for years about a confusion back in the day unto now about which of two particular interchangeable idiots were the red one.

Still, Optimus Prime.

We got that guy down pat.

It’s wild to consider that supposedly this is a guy whose whole ouvre is the idea that freedom is a thing that everyone has a right to. What does freedom mean? Freedom in what way? Freedom from what? It’s one of the most hilariously obvious signs of how at its beating heart, Transformers is a corporate product from an industry rooted in 1980s cold war paranoia, that ultimately the reason the whole industry model exists is low oil prices resulting in a boom in plastic toys that then justified their own existence and then from there, latching more and more industries onto the ever-inflating and planet-dooming exercise of oil extraction. We’re going to roast to death thanks to people making a line go up but we are free.

But I get ahead of myself, a little over my cyber-skis as it were because well, okay, if that’s the summary of his personality, if that’s his iconic line, what’s the character attached to it? Well, he’s the main character of Transformers. Whatever kind of story Transformers is, that Transformers is defined by its relationship to Optimus Prime. In the original he’s a stoic, polite dad figure who will always be at the heart of every action, doesn’t delegate because he’s the one person who solves things and people help him. In Beast Wars he’s a guy who is uncertain about his place as a leader doing his best to maintain some control over a group that don’t respect his authority. In Armada, he’s present. In Superlink he’s… probably also present. In the Bayverse, he’s… well, he’s Michael Bay’s idea of a main character, angry, cruel, apathetic to feelings and dismissive of values. And in Transformers Animated – the best Transformers – he’s an uncertain up and comer learning about what it means to be a leader by comparing himself to other leader figures including a terrorist leader.

Hell, in Cyberverse, Optimus Prime is dead.

(It’s not a big deal, Optimus Prime is dead in every universe he’s in, at least at some point)

(Heck, that’s true for every character, in every universe, especially in ours, but the point is that in every story of Transformers at some point, Optimus Prime is cactus. Dude is made to die, because it happened once in the 1980s and the entirety of male media culture these days is the process of reiterating on anything that made any money at all during that period and that’s why we have not one, not two, but three different Karate Kid reboots.)

Optimus Prime is an ad for a toy. What’s more he’s an ad for a toy that’s never been on its own successful for me. I don’t have an Optimus Prime toy and I never have. I’ve never bothered pursuing him and I don’t think of him as important to my collection. He is the Corn Flakes of the Transformers toy collector playspace. There are thousands of him and they aren’t meaningfully different from one another. If there’s any given tie-in with the franchise, chances are good it’s Optimus Prime and chances are good it’s perfectly fine.

He is and has always been important to the story, and indeed, you can tell things about the nature of the series you’re watching (or reading or playing or building commander decks around or… listening to? There are Transformers audio plays, surely), by looking to Optimus Prime. Even Robot Chicken has a clear vision of how Optimus Prime’s presence in the story is a way to express the way that all of the rest of the joke needs to be delivered.

Optimus Prime is the Mario Mario of Transformers; a sort of default main character who I immediately slide off while trying to find more interesting, more specific characters to look at. The most distinctive thing I could find about his character across all incarnations, the first and only thing that made me go: hang on, I wasn’t expecting that, was that he doesn’t like the music of Motley Crue.

And that’s fine.

I mean we can all agree on that right.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 468

John 1:4

DIVINE ORDER 33: Process Of Marriage 3

Gen 24:3-4 And I will make thee SWEAR BY THE LORD, the God of heaven, and the God of the earth, THAT THOU SHALT NOT TAKE A WIFE UNTO MY SON OF THE DAUGHTERS OF THE CANAANITES, AMONG WHOM I DWELL: But thou shalt go unto my country, and to my kindred, and take a wife unto my son Isaac. KJV

WHERE WIVES ARE FOUND 2

Abraham was called by God from out of Syria, and during his time, he believed that they were yet commendable in terms of Deity worship, though they knew not the “I AM” God.

Deu 26:5 And you shall speak and say before Jehovah your God, MY FATHER WAS A SYRIAN READY TO PERISH. And he went down to Egypt, and stayed there with a few, and became there a nation, great, mighty, and many. MKJV

Now we would soon realize that the [extended] family that Abraham was so proud of and sent to fetch a wife for his son from, later became sworn enemies of, and threats to Israel.

1Ki 20:26 And it came to pass at the return of the year, that Benhadad numbered the Syrians, and went up to Aphek, TO FIGHT AGAINST ISRAEL. KJV

Well, before the times of war, the religion of Syria had started taking a turn for worse.

Do you remember when Esau married two Hittite women and caused grief to his parents?

Gen 26:34-35 When Esau was forty years old, he married two Hittites, Judith the daughter of Beeri, and Basemath the daughter of Elon. THEY MADE LIFE MISERABLE FOR ISAAC AND REBECCA. GNB

Any godly person should strive to follow in their parent’s footsteps. Abraham had laid good examples for Isaac to follow when he ensured that Isaac married from his extended family.

Pro 22:28 DO NOT MOVE THE ANCIENT LANDMARK THAT YOUR FATHERS HAVE SET. ESV

The main issue was Idolatrous practices by foreign lands, so Isaac decided to do what his Father had done, though this time, Jacob was sent by himself to go pick the wife.

Gen 28:1-2 Isaac called in Jacob, then gave him a blessing, and said: DON'T MARRY ANY OF THOSE CANAANITE WOMEN. Go at once to your mother's father Bethuel in northern Syria and CHOOSE A WIFE FROM ONE OF THE DAUGHTERS OF LABAN, YOUR MOTHER'S BROTHER. CEV

Things have changed between Abraham’s time and now; devotion had become corrupt and his descendants now worship multiple gods.

Jacob stayed with his uncle for about 21 years and there must have been infusion and conflict of devotion.

At the time they were leaving Syria, Rachel, Jacob’s wife couldn’t part with their family Idols, and so she did the unthinkable.

Gen 31:19 While Laban had gone to shear his sheep, Rachel STOLE the household idols that belonged to her father. NET

She even lied when her father almost found her out, not knowing she had carried the sentence of death on her head. She was determined to bring these idols to Israel with her.

Gen 31:32 ANYONE with whom you find your gods SHALL NOT LIVE. In front of our relatives, identify whatever is yours that is with me, and take it back.” (BUT JACOB DID NOT KNOW THAT RACHEL HAD STOLEN THEM.) TLV

Jacob didn’t know what Rachel was capable of.

That’s how you know that it’s not really about what tribe you marry from; it’s the personality and devotion of the person you marry.

Enforcing marriage within your clan is also needless, as idolatry creeps into sacred Nations through unscrupulous indigenes who have sold their souls to the devil or are superstitious.

Jer 44:19 Then the women spoke up and said to Jeremiah, "OUR HUSBANDS KNEW WHAT WE WERE DOING. WE HAD THEIR PERMISSION TO MAKE SACRIFICES TO THE QUEEN OF HEAVEN. We had their permission to pour out drink offerings to her. OUR HUSBANDS ALSO KNEW that we were making cakes that looked like her." ERV

These were all-Israel family wives, arguing with Jeremiah over accusations of Idol worship.

This was even when judgment has fallen on Judah and they had been exiled to Babylon.

Godlessness had become like a plague.

So, what really matter about the Woman you seek?

Gen 41:45 He gave Joseph the Egyptian name Zaphenath Paneah. And he let him marry Asenath, the daughter of Potiphera, a priest in the city of Heliopolis. Joseph traveled all over Egypt. CEV

It didn’t matter now that Joseph married the daughter of a pagan priest, as long as she is God’s will and turns to God too, and his firm resolve to serve God remains unswayed.

I pray that your Devotion to God remain intact and all your choices respect His sovereignty, IN JESUS NAME.

Come back on Friday, as we proceed in digging into this inspiring Subtopic.

Brother Prince

Wednesday, February 07, 2024

08055125517; 08023904307

[thistooisyuri-ttv]

69

(Prompt)

69. Dirty Imbecile - The Happy Fitz

The cold embrace of stone is soothing to the blistered and bruised, the nice fresh air, filling lung, after lung, after lung, after lung. The trees offer a gift of shade from this wrathful light piercing the skin, dragging its claws up and down, ripping out the eyes. This is nice, this is where I belong, isn't it.

It’s not long before the putrid and gruesome curse fills the mind, squeezing the skull till all that's left is the memory of last night. Not even the spirits that warmed the belly then will help now. Perhaps what's needed is some modern medicine, a flick of the wrist if you want to be literal.

An incantation shall wash away that of ill-bearing, and in a moment all that ravaged this world is gone, and the stone that once cradled me has taken unto itself a quest of vengeance. 

“Upsi-daisy!” The legs are a bit wobbly but that should sort itself out soon enough. Another flick of the wrist and the mud hiding my true beauty is no more, allowing these fine silken robes of various blues, purples, yellows, and reds to shine with glee in the no-longer spiteful rays of light now caressing this sweet life.

Now that the world has stopped it’s spinning and the people lose their twins the sight of a blissful street market grows ahead. Folks of all nature, falling into the symphony of voices, buzzing about their business, fill this precious scene. 

Where should I fit in? Who should I be in this play on life? Well, I’m the main character of course! Am I not the most important person in my life? Exactly! Now, where would I like my story to take me? Why don’t I see what happened to those side characters that put me in this predicament. That's a splendid idea, perhaps I’ll give them a side arc of their own. 

Not too far from here is the dwelling of last night, that wretched hostel full of braggarts and bullies all the same. Must I go back? No need, but the looks on their faces would be nice to see, oh for this fantasy to be realized, not only would I make a scene, but I’m sure word would spread, and disgrace would fall on those I was made a mock of. How nice it’d be to see this come to fruition. If I must, then onward to my next big entrance.

This puny establishment again, how I loathe your tawny, rustic facade. Inside this beast is the calling of action, the climax I oh so look towards. All that holds me back now is this door.

A door flies through the room taking a table and some empty mugs with it. As planned so far, “WHAT the FUCK!” Clamors a barmaid, aghast by this display. My line: “Not to worry, that was for dramatise, I’ll fix it once I’m done.” and with that the poor broad slumps to the ground at my will. “Now now, if I’m not mistaken, it was… You, You, and You that I’m here for.”

An ugly bastard stands from his stool, with a belly like that I too would be surprised by such a thing. “Ain’t it the supertenditious, rich little brat. Come back with a clean set of curtains I see, and the same amount of coin to lose I hope.” The stench of his breath berrates my senses with each word, what a filthy creature.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘superfluous’. And for your information, the only coin I have will be coming off your body.” An unpracticed line but it got the point across. Why don’t I make sure he shuts up before this room turns toxic again, and with just the thought he falls paralyzed to the floor. His posse stands abrupt, unsure whether to help him or stay my fury. One finally has a coherent thought and rushes like a starved dingo, sword drawn, with not a moment of planning. Queued by a snap of the fingers, the last thing he sees is the crowd to the right of him watching in awe as his neck contorts around a broken spine, and his body slams against the wooden floor, highlighting the wonderful acoustics in this room. 

“You, final boy, bring me the coin pouches of you and yours.”

The pathetic excuse of a man, amiss by the sight, lamenting what's to come of him.

“NOW!”

The woeful varmint scurries from his fallen comrades and fulfills my command. Head bowed, purses promptly held afront, and as my final gesture of mercy, my leg between his. Unfortunately, the room doesn’t resonate when he hits the floor, but the jingle of coin does as it dangles at my side, eager to join me to the end of this arc… “Shit, I forgot the door…”

[albertfinch]

THE VEIL OF THE SELF-LIFE

Luke 23:44-46 - "By now it was about midday and a darkness fell over the whole land, which lasted until three in the afternoon; the sun's light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus gave a loud cry and said, 'Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit'; and with these words he died."

When the veil of self cloaks our hearts, our perceptions are stained by the basic selfish orientation of our nature. But when one turns to the Lord, the veil of the self-life, like the veil in the temple, is torn in two. This is not the cutting of some thin cloth but the tearing of the heart, the splitting in two of the tightly woven fabric of self-righteousness and self-consciousness. It is a violent rending, a putting to death, of the unregenerate self-nature.

2 Corinthians 3:16 - "But whenever a man turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away."

Luke 13:20,21 - "To what shall I liken the kingdom of God? It is like leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal till it was all leavened."

Much like light that exposes, or salt that preserves, leaven influences its surroundings in a subtle but overpowering way. So it is with the infiltrating power of the Kingdom of God.

Without a revelation of our Christ calling, we cannot move in bearing fruit that remains for His every advancing Kingdom. 

When the main goal of our faith is to keep us safe from the devil, our faith becomes inferior to what God expects. Jesus had in mind more for us than survival. We are destined to overcome.

Every conversion plunders hell. Every miracle destroys the works of the devil. Every God encounter is an "invasion of the almighty" into our desperate condition. This is our joy. Revelation 12:11 - "And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death."

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY