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redwinterroses · 3 years

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I’m doing my very best not to format this as a literary analysis paper but that’s basically what this is so forgive me if I slip back into those old habits at all. And I'm going to tag @betweenlands and @fluffy-papaya in this because guys look what your fic made me brainrot. XD

(This is a long one, y'all. We're talking 2k words. Sorry.)

That said:

Hey, let’s talk about the bead curtain in Dog at the Door.

That dang bead curtain, and why I’m currently fixating on it, and how I think it has symbolism that may or may not be intentional.

(At this point, I’m assuming it’s intentional. Everything about this fic is intentional. Including the pain. Heh. “The only difference between a running gag and a recurring theme is how seriously you take it,” says Solar. Cool. I’m taking it seriously.)

The curtain first shows up in chapter one. It’s one of the first things we see in the van, and the first thing we know about it is that Doc finds it obnoxious. Ugly. Revolting. Renbob loves it, obviously, but Renbob has odd tastes. Doc, on the other hand, literally uses his hatred of the curtain to motivate him to get out of bed in the morning.

The Red King, when he shows up, also has similar dislike of the thing, but his reaction is a little more measured, a little less extreme. More distaste, less disgust. He finds it “distasteful” and compares it to wearing a labcoat without a shirt (lol). But he doesn’t loath it like Doc does, and when Doc suggests (in chapter 13) that they take it down and use it for friendship bracelets, he’s as displeased with that idea as Renbob is. He has an ambivalent opinion, overall.

And then Ren. Ren actually reacts the least to the curtain—but ends up with the most dramatic interaction with it, which we’ll come back to in a second. He simply says (chapter 24) that normally he’d find the beads hideous, but that the light of Doc’s eye reflecting off it into the shadows makes it oddly peaceful.

There’s exactly one other use of the word “curtain” in this fic, and it’s this line right here:

“I haven’t done anything but possess him and lead his soul back to the controls.” RK throws his hands up in the air. “He’s put himself behind the curtain because he thinks I’m out to get him. My only crime is the original contract I made with him, doctor.”

In this instance, RK is talking about their “imperfect metaphor” of Ren being behind the curtain that separates the “driver’s seat” from the rest of the van that is Ren’s mind/soul. He’s saying that Ren has deliberately put himself in a position of defeat and surrender because he (Ren) doesn’t think there are any other options.

M’kay. Right about now, any sane person is going, “Red. Why are you so fixated on this bead curtain. It’s a running joke at best.”

And... I mean, sure. Kinda. But also definitely not.

This is the part where I really step out on a potentially-shaky limb with all the confidence in the world, because here’s what I'm seeing: the dividing line between life and death is often portrayed in literature as a curtain.

(And it’s interesting to note that the curtain is a barrier, a separation, but it’s only a curtain, and this one is made of beads at that. It’s a flimsy and fluid barrier, easy to pass through. Back and forth. Surrender and control, life and death.)

In fact, even in this fic it’s used that way: RK may be referring to the metaphorical bead curtain in their van of an explanation for how his and Ren’s relationship works, but in the story at that point Ren is convinced that he’s dead. Or is supposed to be dead. And by putting himself “behind the curtain,” he’s surrendering to that. Almost insisting on it, because that’s the truth of how he sees the world right then and he can’t process any other possibilities. He’s basically saying “I’m supposed to be dead, and this side of the curtain is death, so that’s where I’ll stay.”

So if the curtain in the metaphor represents the two sides of that, it’s really interesting to look at the various characters’ reactions to the literal bead curtain and see how it reflects their attitudes toward death—and specifically Ren’s death.

Renbob is... chill. He has an entirely comfortable relationship with the bead curtain, with life and death, with his own emotions—even with dealing with the emotions of the others he’s chauffeuring across the universe. While he isn’t immune to the grief of losing (or thinking he’s lost) Ren, he deals with it in a relatively healthy way—at least as much as we see. I think there was a possibly-canon ask at some point that said he was journaling and meditating so... yeah. Renbob’s got this. And 50 other bead curtains in storage. He’s the only character in the fic who passes in and out of the curtain regularly and without it being a big deal.

To put it simply: Renbob is on good terms with whatever happens in life, up to and including the end of it. (Renbob is arguably the equal and opposite of Grimdog. Two sides of the same coin in more ways than one.)

Contrast that now with Doc. Doc is... not a fan of the bead curtain. It represents a loss of control to him, (“freakin’ hippies”) and a separation from what he loves. In the past, he and Ren were on opposite sides of that conflict, and the beads still somewhat represent that tension (though in a mostly nostalgic, and not actively-antagonistic way.) But the language Doc’s narration uses to describe the beads is strong. “Obnoxious.” “Accursed.” “Horrendously evil.”

Nearly as scary as his best friend trying to kill him.

It’s played for laughs, obviously, and it is funny. But if we project the symbolism of “the curtain represents death” onto Doc’s reactions, it gets a bit less amusing. And it really fits with Doc’s attitude toward Ren’s death in the whole fic. It’s the worst thing he’s ever faced—to the extent that until RK’s seemingly-permanent presence forces him to, Doc doesn’t even try to process it. He goes right to work on the prosthetics, growls at anyone who tries to make him do anything he doesn't want to do, accepts RK as “New Ren,” and pretends that he’s going on with life.

He refuses to look at how weird the whole situation is, because if he does that he has to deal with Ren being gone forever. He ignores the thing that’s right under his nose and pretends it’s not there until a moment of quiet or actually having to interact with it brings it back to his attention, and then his reaction is vitriolic.

Doc hates that curtain, and he hates the concept of death, the concept of losing control. Even in his nightmares, he holds tight to what little control he can take, even if it’s just taking the initiative to sit in the snow and let it kill him faster. Hold onto that thought, because I’ve got more to it, but we have to talk about RK and Ren first.

RK holds both distaste and acceptance of the curtain. He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t want it destroyed either. The distaste, notably, is when he’s with Doc, and the acceptance comes from being around Renbob. The Red King, as a blood god, is not exactly unfamiliar with death. It’s literally in his job description, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. A necessary evil, if you will.

It doesn’t hurt either that, at least up until Ren, RK has always been the one on the other side of the curtain, completely in control of the situation. He goes back and forth on his attitudes, but in the past he has been the one in control and the bringer of death. His reaction is negative, but not emphatic—the way someone who has plenty of indoor plans might react to a rainstorm.

Ren... now, Ren. Ren has, like I said, the least recorded reaction to the actual, physical bead curtain. But. But. While he normally would call it hideous, “there’s something oddly peaceful about watching light fractals spin off the walls, cutting off into the shadows.” The shadows, it’s worth noticing, are specifically implied to be RK/hiding RK in this moment. Doc’s light and RK’s shadows interacting with the curtain bring peace to Ren. He passes through it easily to find Renbob.

Ren has already accepted his death—he accepted it long before the fic even started—to an extent that he’s actively insisting on it for a large portion of the story. It’s only when he realizes that Doc is in potential danger that he starts fighting RK for control of the situation again. (“Stay away from Doc, you bastard. He wasn’t part of our bargain. Leave him alone.”)

He dislikes the bead curtain, but he doesn’t hate it, and when seen in the (literal) light of Doc’s protective, watching eye—even if he is asleep at the moment, bless—even the shadows of RK’s presence are suddenly beautiful and peaceful to him in a way that, without the “reflecting fractals” of the beads, wouldn’t be possible. Again: this is the chapter where Renbob’s influence is felt, and his peace with life and death directly affects Ren and his reactions. (“It’ll all sort itself out, eventually, and I’ll be here for you while it does.”)

And then...

And then Ren rips down the curtain altogether.

The separation is gone. For better or for worse, that divide between control and surrender, between RK and Ren, between life and death... it’s gone. It’s scattered across the floor of the van, glittering in Ren’s hair, and in the carpet. Ren has broken through that barrier, and now we just have to wait to see what the consequences of that are for him.

But... we can already see at least one consequence for Doc. Because now there is no more illusion of control and surrender for him to maintain. That division is no longer there, and we see Doc’s first real surrender in the whole story. Even in his nightmares, he was still in control: he knew it was a nightmare, and he fought against it until he “gave up”—in a way that still put him in control. He chooses to sit in the snow so it’ll kill dream-him faster.

He acts like he doesn’t care, but it’s still not that: he takes control in the only way he knows, aware that everything is only a dream and no matter what how it treats him, he’ll still wake up in the end. He looks at the nightmare and says basically “Do your worst, I dare you, but you won’t get what you want from me.”

But now—now he surrenders to Ren. He gives up. His core truth (“I’ll do anything to protect those I love,” which I talked about in this post) looks like it’s not going to be enough to save them. He can’t save Ren—from RK or from Ren himself—and that means he’s lost in the worst way possible. In this moment, it looks like Ren doesn’t even trust that Doc’s core truth—that he will do anything to save his friends—is true.

This is Doc’s lowest point: that Ren seems to think Doc’s loyalty and love have failed. And to Doc... that’s a fate worse than death.

So he gives up. He tells Ren to kill him, and he fully expects him to do so. Doc doesn’t want to die, but at this point he has completely let go of any control of his own fate. Even when facing down Ren with the Skizz blade, he held tightly to his control of the situation. He literally takes the sword in his own hand and removes it as a threat. But now—now the curtain is gone. The illusion of control is gone.

Ren is the one in control of the situation—for possibly the first time in the fic—and he chooses to remember that Doc is his friend, that he’s missed him. But Doc leaves it all to him. Even when Ren backs off, Doc stays in that surrendered state (“I can’t do anything right, unlike [Martyn.]”). He realizes that he's been in the passenger seat the whole time, and he’s now where Ren was before: no longer even trying to take back the driver’s seat.

The curtain is gone. Now we just have to wait and see who ends up on which side of it at the end.

#long post #dog at the door #datd #i got about halfway through this yesterday and then was told that the bead curtain was important to today's chapter #and I thought: okay. I'll wait and it'll probably blow my entire theory out of the water.#and then NOPE turns out I'm pretty sure this is where it was going all along and I'm just a nerd who happened to notice

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thenerdyindividual · 3 years

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Okay so yesterday @sterlingdylan made this awesome analysis post about BBC Merlin, stating that it was neither Arthur’s nor Merlin’s fault that Merlin didn’t reveal his magic, something I 100% agree with.

Unfortunately, this post also got derailed by a discussion comparing Arthur’s attitudes to homophobia. Now, to be clear, I do think there are some parallels there. Writers will look to real world bigotry in order to write their fantasy bigotry better. For BBC Merlin, the bigotry does feel a lot like homophobia because magic is: a part of the characters and not something they chose, something the characters must hide or be put in danger, something characters worry makes them evil/monsters, etc. However, parallels are not the same thing as an allegory. If we try to take BBC Merlin as a direct allegory for homophobia it falls apart because there are genuine reasons for people to be afraid of magic in the canon because it can and has killed people, controlled people, and hurt people. Queer people can’t do any of that with their queerness. Our queerness is fundamentally harmless, whereas magic is not. Also, as sterlingdylan discussed last night, if we take it as an allegory it sets up a concerning narrative about “closeted” Merlin being good, and “out” other characters being bad. Which is injecting a really extreme and problematic moral into the show, and not something we as an audience should be placing on the shoulders of the writers.

I don’t think we need to take BBC Merlin as an allegory for anything, It is enough to discuss parallels to our lives, and examine how the bigotry functions in the context of the show itself. But If we are going to be comparing it as directly as possible to something in our daily lives, then it would probably be more accurate as a narrative about extremism and essentialism. It is still an imperfect comparison because usually extremism and essentialism are not founded on genuine concern, but stick with me. It gets long so the essay is going under the cut.

Uther experienced the death of his wife at the hands of magic. Now, we know that he and Ygraine asked Nimueh for help conceiving. Whether they fully knew the cost or if Nimueh downplayed it is neither here nor there. What is relevant is that Uther was given proof of magic’s ability to harm him and the people he loved. Now, someone who did not hold the black and white “The King is always right” attitude might have taken this instance and pushed for regulation of magic rather than a ban. However, as we witness in later episodes in which he locks up his own children for defying him, Uther can never admit he was wrong so rather than say it was a bad idea to use magic in the way he did, he convinced himself that it wasn’t him who made the mistake, but that magic itself was an inherently evil corrupting force, and started the purge. He took an extreme oppositional view towards magic.

On the flip side, much of the narrative of the magic half of this battle is also about extremism. They are, rightfully, infuriated by and afraid of Uther, but they also let their anger at Uther shade their perception of Arthur. Morgana, starting in season one, was already set against Uther, but was not yet set against Arthur. However, when she met Morgause her train of thought went from justice, to revenge against Uther, to a desire for power, and finally a deep desire to see Arthur dead. Perhaps in some way Morgause really does care about creating a just world for magic users, but she clearly also has a desire for power (as seem when she encourages Morgana to stage a coup and take the throne for herself instead of try to teach Arthur, when he’s demonstrated before a willingness not to lock step with Uther) which are two things that aren’t compatible.

Morgause encourages Morgana to see the worst in the people around her, and encourages her to give into acts of extreme violence against people who don’t necessarily deserve it (ie all the peasants she was prepared to starve when they disagreed with her when she took the throne at the end of season three. A move remarkably similar to something Uther would have done). Morgana no longer stops to consider the times that Arthur stood against Uther, and comes to view Arthur not as someone who can be shown the bigger picture, but as someone inherently against magic rather than the violence it can do. This cycle does not stop with Morgana either, it also reaches Kara who refuses to see the good in Arthur even though he has shown his willingness to make peace with members of the Old Religion (druids), and was prepared to let her get away with attempted murder simply because Mordred and Merlin asked him to show her mercy.

Kara and Morgana both have come to view Arthur as inherently violent and set against magic the same way Uther came to see magic as inherently violent and set against Camelot. Neither of which are accurate views on the situation.

Arthur is the one who was prophesied to break this cycle of extremism and essentialism, and we can see him attempt to try. There are multiple occasions in which he considers that magic may not be evil. Off the top of my head there is the scene after Morgause reveals the true circumstance of his birth, the scene in which he allows Dragoon to attempt to heal Uther, and the scene where he asks Merlin if he should legalize magic in order to save Mordred. In all of these cases someone (usually Merlin) prevents him from exploring that thought deeper. Even so, he does make great strides towards taking up the proper nuanced view needed for this situation. He takes Camelot from a kingdom that relentlessly hunts down and persecutes magic, to a kingdom of fair trials and peace with druids.

Sadly, no one can meet him in the middle. Morgause and Morgana’s insistence on trying to take him down and harm the people closest to him prevents Arthur from learning the good aspects of magic just as much as Uther’s propaganda did. Merlin is the only sorcerer in the entire show not to be set against Arthur, and therefore the only one who could show Arthur how to break this cycle, but doing so presents no small risk to his own and Arthur’s safety. If Arthur took it badly and either banished or executed him, it would effectively prevent Merlin from protecting him. This leaves Arthur trying to draw his own conclusions, and he never gets the additional information that magic can, and is, used for beauty and healing. He can only operate on what he has seen, and what he has seen is magic being used against himself and Camelot repeatedly.

Arthur can’t be held responsible for not incorporating information he isn’t given into his view on magic, and Merlin can’t be held responsible for not risking himself to teach Arthur. We can, however, hold the people around them responsible for creating an environment that prevents Arthur from learning on his own, and prevents Merlin from teaching him. The fault lies primarily with Uther for kicking this whole chain of events off in the first place, and in Morgause who co-opted a genuine struggle in order to gain power. Morgana is also responsible for letting her view of Arthur (someone she has seen stand for justice) be corrupted. In the end the fault lies neither with Arthur, nor with Merlin. The fault lies in the very human tendency to view the world in black and white, and react with violence against those deemed dangerous (despite how much that title is or is not earned).

#bbc merlin #christ this turned into an essay #merlin bbc #merlin

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solomonish · 3 years

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i want to be where your gaze falls. (Solomon x Reader)

Solomon's eyes captivate you like nobody else's.

(Or: I'm hopelessly in love with Solomon and I think you should be, too.)

ao3 link: here!

His eyes were dark - except for when he was working with magic.

The first time you saw him, you hadn't much time to memorize the exact hue that held you in an inquisitive gaze. You were still finding your footing in a strange, dangerous realm and found yourself before a mysterious man who held your phone out to you when you couldn't even remember dropping it. Such a gesture was fine, casual even, but there was something about him that had you feeling uneasy, as if his whole appearance was made to catch you off guard, as if his smile was artfully crafted to just barely conceal sharp canine teeth that could rip you to shreds. You took the phone, exchanged a few pleasantries, and barely made it ten steps before Lucifer approached you to confirm what you had already figured out.

Stay away from Solomon, MC. He is not to be trusted.

It was as if Solomon had heard the warnings, and they instead summoned him with their silent spell. Or maybe he was a moth drawn to a flame, going to where he should definitely not be simply because he had long since discovered how to become fireproof and the only thing left to do with this power was abuse it. Since that day, you could see him skirting the corners of your vision, waving when he was caught but observing when he was not. If you approached him, the conversation felt easy, but it was never about him and never the conversation you intended to have. Solomon knew how to occupy your mind with nonsense riddles, so he made himself the toughest riddle of all and placed himself directly in your hands. Each time you twisted him and found yourself with a solid color row, he would only grin at you and force himself in three different directions so you were more lost than when you began.

That was when you noticed his eyes.

You would come to learn that he had spent much time knowing the ocean so intimately that he had to throw his love away before it cracked his brittle heart. At least, that’s what you had assumed - Solomon gave an impression that perhaps his heart loved too easily and shattered too spectacularly, but none of those impressions ever lasted too long. It seemed just his brand of tragic that the ocean he now hated was the first thing to come to mind when his eyes met yours. The gold laced at the bottom of those deep, smothering blues reminded you of something regal, something kingly - and the more you thought you learned about his past, the more you realized the windows to his soul were reflections of that which he hated most.

They were dark, not just in color, but in emotion, too. Any light behind his eyes that you would expect to see was gone, perhaps blown out by the winds of time. Even when he was not being unkind, they refused to give any indication of sweetness or authenticity. You did not know what you expected from him, but it was not for him to be so blatantly hollow that even his most overjoyed laugh seemed to ring without credibility.

There was a time, however, when all that seemed to change- and what better a time for the greatest sorcerer than when he was doing magic?

When the glitter rose from his palm, when small shapes hovered and swirled in a purple mist so expertly, so naturally that you wondered if his veins were made to fill with electricity and not mundane, human blood, his eyes would shine. At first, you assumed that it was just the reflection of the light his spells emitted as he watched intently, but no - there was something else there. As if peering out from behind a corner, the light you thought should be in his eyes reappeared, shining with an honest interest that naturally pulled you in. If there were rumors of his deceitful charm floating around him before you saw him like this, now he was downright devilish, able to pull you in however deep he wanted with hardly more than a few words and a smile. It was the magic in how genuine it all seemed - a magic so powerful, it rivaled every spell in his worn leather book.

Perhaps that idea played more into your decision to become his apprentice than you thought.

It didn't seem to matter which spell was cast, or even who cast it; when Solomon was surrounded by magic, by floating books as he sorted through spells and potion recipes, by glittering objects as you tried to enchant them, by anything, he was lighting up like a star. His intelligent eyes examined what looked to you like a jumbled cloud of glitter, and he murmured to himself little imperfections and discrepancies from your spell. Once all of his notes had been taken, he looked to you and congratulated you on your improvement, and oh when he looked at you like that - maybe he was a star, or maybe he was every star, or maybe he was an exceptionally sly black hole pulling you into his orbit with nothing but his facade of light spiraling around him. It didn't matter, after all - he was sucking you in, and you were too awestruck to want to fight him off.

Your days were spent with him and magic, learning new spells and finding magic ingredients. Tucked away in the corner of a dim library, his eyes stayed bright as he gently ran a finger over a book's old spine. You asked if he hadn't read that one yet.

"It was one of the first books I completed where each spell was new to me," he admitted, fondness lacing in his voice so it would send a chill down your spine. "We'll get to it eventually, but you're not quite at that level, I'm afraid."

Of course. Of course he had read it already, and of course one of his first spellbooks was far beyond your comprehension. You couldn't find it within you to feel slighted - not when you were convincing yourself to refrain from stealing the book just so you could see that expression every day.

Your hours away from RAD were spent mostly with Solomon wherever he tended to stray, a fact bemoaned by the brothers every chance they got. You couldn't help but wonder when that light would burn out, because clearly it had done so at least once before. But his eyes didn't seem so dark anymore, and you caught him in the halls giving you a dizzying light-eyed grin more often than you didn't, yet no magic pranks had been played to explain them away.

You had gotten paranoid. You had had enough. So you went up to him one day and asked him what had him so happy, preparing to be the reason the light drained from his eyes slowly - but at least then, you would know.

That didn't happen, though. Instead, he gave you a blank look, a good-natured once over, and he flashed you the prettiest smile you'd ever seen grace anyone's lips. "What, is it suddenly suspicious to be happy around my sweet apprentice?"

There was no smell of static and sulfur, no parlor tricks to impress you, no spell for him to get his way. It was just you, and Solomon, and the hall that seemed empty but definitely was not, and his eyes, oh, his eyes-

His eyes were dark. Usually, they were dark...except for when he was working with magic, and when he was looking at you.

#obey me #obey me solomon #obey me shall we date #swd obey me #obey me swd #solomon #solomon fics #solomon fluff

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tigerseye46 · 3 years

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I was re-reading the jealous Pigsy peachbun fic where Pigsy is jealous of Macaque. So how about Jealous Pigsy with hugs 4, 16 and touching 30?

Mmmm, jealous Pigsy. I combined this with another idea I have. Also I was remembering smth an anon sent me weeks after that fic so I put it in.

TW: Brief mention of death

Hugs 4. comforting hugs Hugs 16. ‘not wanting to let go’ hugs Touching 30. grabbing onto their arm

——-

Pigsy wasn’t perfect. Far from it. In fact it was his imperfections that drove people away. He had a hard time admitting to people’s faces that he loved them and preferred subtle acts to show his affection.

He was surprised he had people at all since he was such a grump and yelled more than he praised. It was a surprise the king chose to enter his life and while it was only because he was training Xiaotian, the king made an effort to talk to him.

At first, he was appalled at having the monkey around. The monkey decided to put his kid in danger rather than handling any mess himself. Then Sun Wukong’s walls began to drop and Pigsy found himself falling. The king was brilliant, funny, charming and he cared about those around him. It caused a flutter in his heart.

He was never going to admit this to the king. Not like he had a chance with the Great Sage.

Then Macaque joined the group.

If Pigsy was being honest, he loathed Macaque. After learning what he had done to Xiaotian he refused to stop scolding and screaming at him which earned him some amusement from the demon.

Even when the other began to change he still didn’t trust him. And while he trusted the king enough to watch over him, he didn’t trust the man himself. No doubt Macaque would betray them.

And the closeness between Macaque and Wukong was bothering him. He was aware they had a past together. A past they previously thought broken beyond repair but were now attempting to fix.

It made his heart clench and jealousy coursed his veins when they smiled and laughed with each other while Pigsy was stuck on the sidelines not receiving a drop of affection or care from the king.

He doubt the other gave him much thought. Why would he? He wasn’t important. He was just a simple demon who got angry at everyone who came close. Sun Wukong would rather be with someone like Macaque (damn manipulator) than him.

They had a past with each other that was more important than whatever the pig had with the king.

But Pigsy also had a past with Wukong. While it took awhile for the memories of his past life as Zhu Bajie to flood back in, it happened. It wasn’t easy to sort through all that information and… his death but he managed. Then he decided he was going to keep his mouth shut.

Zhu Bajie’s insecurities melded with his own from overthinking and made the problem worse. It was apparent that both of them didn’t think highly of their relationship with the king and wanted more. But Zhu Bajie had caused so many problems and had so many flaws that Sun Wukong was infuriated by and was most likely waiting for the moment the pig would take the hint and just go away. While Pigsy was well Pigsy. Both hardly worth the effort.

He’s certain the second he told the king he would pack up his bags and leave, never to be seen again, and run away with Macaque. So he didn’t bother to tell him about the recent revelation. Even if he wasn’t getting what he wanted from the relationship, it was better this way.

Watching Macaque and Wukong interact in the Anti-Gravity Arcade made him hiss. The kids were with Sandy partying up a storm while he was with Tang on the sidelines. The whole place was too noisy for his tastes but he had been outvoted.

So he remained there with arms crossed until there was tug on his arm. “Huh?”

Wukong was in front of him with a smile. “Come on, Pigsy. Join me.”

“Ummm… for?”

“Play some games with me.”

“Games aren’t my thing…”

“Even with that you could play with me.”

Tempted to accept but thinking about how much he didn’t deserve to be in the king’s presence was what caused him to decline. “Nah, I’m good. You have fun though.”

The king frowned then shrugged it off. “Alright. Come on, Macaque.”

“Right by your side,” Macaque replied and walked off with him.

Pigsy huffed as the two chatted. Tang nudged him. “You know if you said something then you wouldn’t have to be jealous.”

“Shaddup Tang.”

“Come on, Pigsy. It would be so much easier if you admitted how you feel.”

“Never gonna happen. He has Macaque.” And if Pigsy confessed he would ruin the relationship he had with Wukong. Combined with him being a reincarnation of the person Wukong hated the most would result in the king never coming back.

“They just seem to be friends.”

“You’re an idiot. They obviously like each other.” The pig scowled when Wukong’s cheeks turned pink after Macaque leaned in and whispered something.

“If you say so.”

The pig bobbed his head as a response. He never had a chance. They had been through so much together and while it ended sour, it was better than the nuisance Pigsy was as Zhu Bajie.

If Wukong knew then he would be so angry at hanging around the pig he despised. But what if he already knew? Then he was only staying around for the others.

Pigsy was fine with this even when his chest constricted and he couldn’t help but think how this would be ruined if he slipped up once.

With Macaque’s presence, he didn’t feel as if he necessarily fit in with the group. Despite the rocky start, Macaque was livelier and more open with affection compared to Pigsy. Pigsy felt his own ways of affection came off as genuinely mean but it was how he was.

Days passed and it was harder to hide his jealousy and aggression. The others asked him about it but he didn’t answer.

Eventually Macaque put him aside and questioned, “What is your problem?”

“What problem?”

“You clearly have a problem with me. So spit it out.”

“Wow. I wonder why.”

“I’ve changed.” “Doesn’t mean I trust you.” Doesn’t mean I trust the boss to be near you.

“Why? I’ve changed. I don’t want revenge anymore.”

“That has yet to be seen. The others fell too easily for your trap. When the others realize, when Wukong realizes, they’ll never go near you again then Wukong will be with me instead,” he blurted out. His face shifting to red as he processed his words. Macaque cackled and rolled on the ground. “Shut up!”

“You- you think we’re together? Of all the assumptions you could make. You- you do realize we’re brothers, right?”

Pigsy’s eyes widened. “What?”

“We’re brothers,” he repeated. “Have you not been paying attention?”

“I-” The pig recalled their earlier conversations. He had heard the word ‘brother’ be thrown around but he thought it was of the respect variant, not the literal variant. “Literally?”

“Yes. No wonder he likes you. You’re an idiot.”

“Oh...”

Macaque patted his back. “I’ll send brother out here so your stupid mind can start working.”

“I...” Then Macaque strolled away with a laugh.

Okay so they were brothers. Actually brothers. Yet it didn’t get rid of the other thing he was afraid of. The Zhu Bajie part. If he admitted it to Wukong then their relationship would crumble.

Sun Wukong spotted Pigsy and skipped over to him. “Hey, Pigsy!”

“H-hi...”

“Macaque said you needed something.”

“Er... no. I’m fine.” “Really? Because you’ve been acting weird. Do you need a hug?”

“Ummm... sure?”

The king grinned and he hugged him, running a hand up and down his back for comfort.

The pig buried his snout in the other’s shoulder. He didn’t want to let go. It was one of the few times he could experience his warmth so he would treasure it. He would never have this again if he revealed the memories of his past life. He couldn’t let it slip.

Little did he know Wukong was staring at him with a longing look.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #peachbunshipping #peachpigshipping #sun wukong #monkey king #monkie kid wukong #pigsy #lmk pigsy #six eared macaque #macaque #liu er mihou #philo/tiger writes #swk and macaque are brothers in this one

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mgsapphire · 3 years

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Why I have trouble warming up to Kang Sol A...

So, this post was supposed to remain in my drafts forever, but after today's episode, Imma just say it. This is not an attempt to bash her. But, an attempt to make me like her more.

It's not that I don't like her, but as a professional who must uphold similar values to her, I just can't understand it.

Justice can be a form of healing too. Providing appropriate justice means helping heal the emotional wounds that an injustice has caused.

Kang Sol A is lead by emotions, yet, Professor Yang sees something in her. I guess, it's the mentality that makes her opposite to Kang Sol B, because she's warm and soft hearted, she will make sure to uphold justice.

In my eyes, the Kang Sols are different sides of the same coin. They're both just a different kind of ticking time bomb that if not molded properly will explode.

Kang Sol B is not afraid to forego her humanity in order to get what she wants, however, Kang Sol A has a more dangerous viewpoint, even if it seems innocent at first sight. This is, if it doesn't fit what I believe is right, then it must be wrong so I must oppose it.

She's constantly opposing everything. This is meant to be seen as someone who can shake the system to the core and change it up, but we see other students doing just that, without being so loud about the displeasure with the system.

You can argue that the system has played her family? But have you seen how horrendous it has also been to the other students? Her anger at a broken system is justified, and her attempts at refusing to be a part of it are noble and to be admired.

But one can't help but question her way of doing stuff, the same way she questions everyone else. Just because she's the inquirer, the character from which the viewer can relate to the plot, it shouldn't mean that she must be this way.

I've seen every other student develop, and come to understand how to beat the system. She keeps barging head first into things. And. I can't help but think of that one scene in Toy Story where Rex suggests they must use their heads, so they use his head to attempt to break in.

I feel that's what Kang Sol A often does. She tries to think about what to do, but her conclusions are rash and black and white. She doesn't see the gray.

And I really liked these imperfections of her, the depiction of the struggle to stay afloat in a place where you feel like you don't belong to. Her sheer effort to make it through, no matter what.

When Kang Sol A refuses vehemently to aid a known criminal to seek justice, it tells me she believes justice doesn't belong to everyone. Trust me, I understand her. I've been there, and despite my own morals, I still seek to treat whoever it is. I said that Ye Seul killing her boyfriend would have made sense to me, but if her boyfriend arrived gravely injured to my hospital, I would still treat him and put my upmost efforts into saving him.

Because that's what my profession means, life above everything else. The patient's wellbeing among everything else.

And in law, it means justice among everything else, the client's right to justice among everything else.

Why this seems such a foreign and horrible concept to Kang Sol A makes me understand she went into law school without knowing the reason why she wanted to be a lawyer in the first place.

I believe that she will find it. She will understand what her profession means to her, and I'm looking forward to seeing her grow in the last few episodes, because it was about damn time.

Up until that point, this was written last week, I'm just mad they took the easy way out and literally killed her dilemma. She didn't learn anything. Not all her clients will suddenly disappear. She will have to learn the true meaning of upholding justice one way or another.

#kdrama #netflix kdrama #netflix #netflix recommendations #analysis #rant #jtbc law school #korean actor #kim bum #kang sol a #tv: law school #law school

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multimilfs · 3 years

Text

Lilith Clawthorne x Fem!Reader: Lessons Learned

Summary: thewriting-dragon requested “More Buff Bimbo Reader X Lilith Clawthorne, but like maybe with a touch of angst? Or even better Buff Bimbo Reader after Lilith splits the curse.”

A/N: I think I took a different approach to this than you intended tbh. You said some angst and I sprinted with it, but I hope that you like it!

Warning(s): None

In the Boiling Isles, there is a very strict hierarchy. A ranking of importance that goes down the line. Emperor, Emperor's advisor, and so on. Lilith Clawthorne is the third most important person in the Boiling Isles.

Being so important was something she’d craved from a young age. The idea of being in charge of her life, for once. But power isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. It comes with rules. A lot of them.

The expectations befalling someone so important could lead to a lot of different behaviors. Stress, narcissism, and most obvious, anger. Anger at the slightest imperfection or missing piece. That not everything was fitting perfectly into their master plan.

“Honey, are you ready?”

You peeked into the room where Lilith was readying herself for tonight’s event, stopping to admire her. She was a sight to behold. Glimmering baby blue dress, white heels, and white jewels adorning her body. It took your breath away.

“Wow… You look beautiful.” You sighed out dreamily.

Lilith gave you a small smile, though notably much smaller than normal. Then she looked you up and down with a frown on her face.

“Darling, is that what you’re wearing?” She asked.

Confused, you looked down at your outfit. It was a three piece white suit that you believed was rather dapper. Not to mention it was comfortable. You didn’t understand why she was asking.

“Of course, this is my favorite suit. Why?”

“You wore it last time we went to this event.”

“Okay… Is that supposed to be a problem? It’s stylish and I like the way it looks on me.”

“Being seen in the same thing twice is a taboo. I thought I would have taught you that by now,” Lilith sighed, before waving her hand and changing the color to the same blue as her hair. The cut of the suit was also altered ever so slightly, “There! Now you look perfect.”

A low, icky feeling panged at your gut. You hated wearing this color and the altered cut of the suit made you feel uncomfortable. It drew attention to certain areas of your body you didn’t want people to focus on. But you reminded yourself that it was for Lilith, so you could accept it for the night.

That was the mantra you repeated throughout the night; You were doing it for Lilith. When you bit your tongue in conversation so she could talk, when you didn’t eat anything off of the refreshment table because it was apparently ‘just there to look nice.’ It was hard to do, but you did it. You squashed yourself into a perfect little mold for the higher-ups of the Boiling Isles.

At the end of the event, there was said to be a big show. It’d been the one piece of information keeping you grounded all night. Emperor Belos was going to give a show to remember. The start of a new tradition.

But when you heard the sound of distressed squawking from behind the curtain, you felt your heart drop. Then the curtains opened.

Standing there was Emperor Belos. A fire whip in hand, across from a young Lion Phoenix. It was cowering back from him. Growling and hissing, feathers raised. You looked anxiously to Lilith, but she was purposefully avoiding your gaze.

“Distinguished guests,” Belos began, “Tonight I will perform a feat never attempted before. I will tame the wild Lion Phoenix, as a show of what the Boiling Isles is truly capable of!”

Everyone around you clapped. This felt like your own personal hell, having to watch people enjoy the torture that this creature would endure. For the sake of a show. For power.

“Lilith, stop him.” You whispered.

“I can’t do that.” She flinched away from the suggestion, looking at you like you had two heads.

There was a lilt in her voice that you didn’t like. The same one when she’d accidentally shrunk your uniform or eaten your leftovers. Guilt.

She knew.

You moved away from her, even as she tried to reach for you. To keep you close or stop you from making a scene, it didn’t matter, you were on a mission. There were many instances where you could hold your tongue. This was not one of them.

Belos raised the whip above his head, intent on bringing it down over the creature. You sent a burst of magic before he could. It knocked the item out of his hand. Everyone in the room looked at you in outrage.

“Have you no regard for life?” You hissed at the Emperor.

“It’s a harmless show, Miss Y/N.” He explained.

“Harmless to everyone except this creature. It’s cruel and uncalled for.” You said.

“Emperor Belos, I’m so sorry-”

Lilith tried to jump in to defend you, to calm the situation down. But you leveled her with a hard glare. She stepped back slightly. You didn’t need, or want, anyone to apologize for you.

“End this show or I will.” You threatened.

The temperature in the room dropped as Belos stopped laughing. Such a change made you feel uneasy, but you refused to back down. Not now. Not on something so important.

“Fine.”

He threw his hand out in the direction of the Lion Phoenix, which let out a shriek of fear. Unthinking, you threw yourself between them. Lilith screamed your name before it all ended suddenly. Replaced by the sound of rustling leaves and chirping.

Looking around, you realized you were outside now. In the gardens of the Emperor’s Castle. The Lion Phoenix currently cuddling up to you had teleported you away from the scene. It surprised you, since that was typically a skill for the older creatures. It seemed this one learned quickly.

“Thank you,” You said gratefully, making them purr, “You’re so precious, I’m sorry you got mixed up with such a horrible crowd.”

The large creature didn’t react, other than to paw at your hand, sitting down expectantly. A piece of dinner was still held in your hand. You wasted no time in giving it to them.

“You need a name. How about… Ivy?”

On the creature’s side were prominent veins, almost looking like ivy plants that grew up and around her legs and torso. She gave an indifferent squawk.

“What do you say we blow this joint?” You offered.

Ivy narrowed her eyes at you before giving you a noise of agreement. That was all you needed.

Upon arriving back at your home, you made up a space for the large creature. You imagined that she was going to be with you for a while. At least, you hoped so. She was very sweet and mild mannered.

About two hours had passed before you heard the door open, almost frantically. You winced. Though you were still rightfully upset.

“Oh thank the Titan, you’re alive!” Lilith said upon seeing you, before freezing as Ivy began to growl at her.

“It’s okay,” You soothed, before looking at the other woman, “And yes, I am.”

Lilith knew she’d messed up. The way you weren’t speaking like normal, you didn’t smile in her direction, all of it. She let out a sigh.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” She said.

“Sorry doesn’t feel like enough right now, Lil.” You said softly, focusing intently on Ivy’s fur, “You really hurt me. First you made me act like someone I wasn’t all night and then you didn’t defend me when I asked for your help. I’m not always the smartest, but the one thing I know is who I am. That won’t change. Not even for you.”

Lilith’s stomach dropped. She’d been so caught up in the stress of it all, that she failed to realize how her actions wounded you. How she’d unintentionally been attempting to change who you were. Just so she could impress some stupid Boiling Isles elite.

“You’re right. I take full responsibility for how I acted tonight. How can I make it up to you?” Lilith said softly.

“You… You get to take care of Ivy for two weeks. Or until you’ve earned her forgiveness. Once you’ve earned hers, you’ll earn mine.”

Your girlfriend’s eyes widened as she looked at the creature. Narrowed eyes glared back at her. This was not going to be easy. But still, she steeled herself and accepted your terms.

How bad could two weeks possibly be?

———

Bad. Very bad.

Lilith replaced nearly all of her dresses and even had to get a haircut. Ivy refused to make the two weeks easy. She singed, clawed, and even ripped up whatever of Lilith’s she could find. The hair was an accident.

You conveniently remained neutral. This was Lilith’s punishment, it did nothing if you told her what to do. So you watched from the sidelines, only intending to jump in if it became dangerous for either party.

Luckily, it never got to such a point. And you were happy to see Lilith and Ivy growing closer. The latter even went so far as to cuddle up to Lilith near the end, which the witch was happy about.

“So, did you learn from this experience?” You asked her that night, looking at her curiously.

“Yes.” She sighed.

“Oh come on, you love her. I know you do.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not!” Lilith protested.

“Yeah? Then why did I see you giving her tummy rubs for ten minutes this morning, hm?” You asked.

She avoided your eyes, knowing she’d been caught. Against her better judgement she’d become attached to Ivy.

“I… tolerate her. At best.” She said finally.

“Whatever you say, honey.”

The two of you cuddled up together, smiles on your faces. Content to finally be on good terms once again. Ivy decided to join the moment too, which Lilith allowed, though she pretended to hate it.

The real kicker? Lilith’s outfits hadn’t been the only ones to face the wrath of Ivy’s teeth. You just hadn’t found out yet. All par for the course though… Right?

#lilith clawthorne #lilith x reader #lilith toh #lilith clawthorne imagine #the owl house #the owl house imagine #lilith clawthorne x reader #the owl house x reader #lilith the owl house #wlw #wlw imagine #jan2021 #multimilfswritings

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

Text

Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au

summary: When the world begins to crawl with unnaturally made monsters, the Keeper crew continue to fight like they always have. But a wrench is thrown in those plans when they themselves become less than human.

Chapter 1: The Descent

Word count: 7k

warnings: mild fantasy violence (nothing more than in canon), swearing

taglist: listed at the end beneath the cut, but let me know if you want to be added or removed

!!! Y’all!! It’s finally here!!! And you might be thinking, Quil they don’t have wings. To which I say: be patient!! this is a multi-chapter fic! this is just the groundwork <3

ao3 link here

or read beneath the cut

It was comical, really, just how quickly their security had crumbled into unbridled, ravaged chaos. They had relied on the extravagance of the Neverseen, always too brash, too bold, too eager for attention. They were self-sabotaging. They revealed their plans a moment too soon, wanting the world around them to see the cunning, the thought, to know which moments were their last.

And they’d played the part so clever, it hadn’t crossed a single mind that they were gracing more than one stage. That even when they weren’t putting on a show, they remained ingenuine.

The Black Swan had thought them comical storybook villains, all talk and poise. And then they’d slip, underestimating you and letting you swoop in last second, tossing wrenches in their gears and bringing them up short. A hero. Classic and overused, but a hero nonetheless.

It had been ludicrous to entertain the notion they could be capable of anything greater, anything deadlier. That they wanted to be stopped again and again. That they wanted to build the Black Swan’s confidence in themselves, wanted to be broken and bruised and battered and defeated again and again and again.

Because then who could consider them a threat?

Who would look for them, frail and scattered as they were?

They had all been lured into a false sense of security, taking the first deep, fulfilling breaths they’d had in years. And each day it came easier. Every passing second without disturbance relaxed their bodies and eased their minds. It had been months and months, long enough they felt safe. Actually safe. The idea was laughable now, but it had been true. The Neverseen were gone, dead and buried.

But villains work best from the grave.

The Ruewens noticed the shift first, although if you asked either of them they wouldn’t be able to tell you quite what it was. The subtle gleam gracing the teeth of each new animal they took in, each creature becoming more violent and vocal, tails thumping just a touch harder against the ground.

It was only a coincidence that seven times in a row the creatures were “uncharacteristically rough and wild for their species.” It only became worrisome when the docile creatures began to growl at anyone’s approach, even the ones that had already been tamed.

Then it all went to shit.

Absolute

fucking

shit.

You wouldn’t have been able to tell from the outside; it was surrounded by one-way glass. Look through and all you’d see were splotches of amorphous green, running streams, sunlight soft and secure. But the view from inside was a completely different story. From inside you could see the creeping mold and blood caked along the sides of streams, the marks in the trees and the torn roots, ash where the sun had burned too bright, rusted mist raining down.

What a nightmare they’d made of paradise.

Except, somehow, the Lost Cities themselves had ended up on the outside of the glass, content to pretend the creatures roaming the hills were only a problem if they were near you, which they weren’t. So what a pack of rabid unidentifiable beasts attacked? They hadn’t been here, so it wasn’t a problem.

Then it became a problem.

The creatures moved closer, working their way through the land, ravaging their way towards the Lost Cities. The elves blinked and they were surrounded. Crystal castles tumbled into sand, stone pavement was ripped from the ground, trees torn and shredded, dripping with infection.

They’d had no choice but to leave it all behind. There’d been backlash of course, despite it being in everyone’s best interest. Those who were so attached to what they had, what had remained a constant in the past millennia of their lives that they were fully willing to risk themselves for it. There was no doubt though, that had they been allowed to remain they would’ve regretted it the moment those creatures came to their door, the ones they’d refused to believe were their problem.

So they’d all moved below ground, deep enough they couldn’t be reached. Every inch of surface available to them was dangerous, so they’d gone beneath it. The dwarves had graciously worked to hollow out living space for them all, creating entire kingdoms beneath the sand. And now they were much more powerful, carried more weight with each step, the responsibility they’d risen to clinging to them and eating them respect no one could deny.

They’d all be dead without them.

Not everyone was in one place, a few spots underground scattered throughout the world and it nearly impossible to travel between them. Light leaping didn’t work underground, and it was an incredible risk to brave the surface for a single leap. Once everyone had been settled, they’d stayed there. And they were still there.

I mean, what else could they do?

It had taken them a bit to work out just where these volatile creatures had come from, the ones now spanning the entirety of the world--although the humans were still unaware. Something about the pollution and overall vibe of the forbidden cities kept the monsters away from them.

A few had suggested moving to the forbidden cities as an alternative to living underground, but the disgust for the places quickly killed that idea.

The Black Swan was adamant that somehow the Neverseen had to be behind this. The organization had been the only enemy they’d ever had--and they were right, in a way. Despite months of silence, of nothing, of security, they must’ve done something.

But how, was the question.

Perhaps it would’ve been better had the question never been answered, if they’d all remained ignorant of what had been hidden right beneath them. Certainly, there would’ve been more resistance had every single elf shoved underground been kept in the dark.

But alas, illumination came tied with a silver ribbon.

One of the smaller creatures, really not much larger than a candle, had slipped into the residences, stirring up a ruckus in its frantic attempts to escape as it realized it was trapped below ground. It had been caught in a corner, hunched over away from the lights. The entirety of its body had been shaded by the large mushroom cap covering its head. It was only on closer inspection they realized the red, dripping mushroom was attached to its head. The rest of its body was disproportionately small and warped, grooves scorn into the skin.

They had been taking it back towards a small air vent--so they could release it onto the surface--when they’d seen the small clasp. It was imperceptibly small, silver in color, piercing the underside of the mushroom cap. It was a tag. An identification tag complete with a pin number.

If that hadn’t been enough proof that the creatures had been intentional, the symbolic eye entwined with a sturdy chain would’ve been enough. Their hearts stopped dead. That eye was unmistakably the Neverseen’s symbol, but that chain…

It was clearly another symbol, the two mixed. But--

Fuck. The creature in their hands had grown panicked and impatient, the space they’d thought was its body leering open to reveal rows upon rows of stubby teeth, all sharp edges and imperfections. They’d nearly dropped the creature in their panic to shove it into the air vent, closing it quickly behind as the sharp, tiny stomps faded as it climbed further and further away.

That creature had been created intentionally and the Neverseen had been a part of it, that much was certain. But there was someone else. Another force out there with enough influence and power to corrupt the entirety of nature’s balance, able to rewrite the story of evolution, and they were represented by a chain.

But who was it?

No matter how shallow her breaths, the overwhelming stench of musk and mold continued to coat her tongue and turn her stomach sour. Sophie exhaled slowly; it would do no good to dwell on what she couldn’t change. The rest of them weren’t faring much better, but the thin cloths over their faces provided a sliver of relief.

Sophie, Fitz, Keefe, Biana, Dex, Tam, Linh, Marella, Maruca, and Wylie. More people than they’d usually risk bringing on a mission, but it was a necessary risk for one of this magnitude.

She assumed the thick scent was coming from the swaths of unidentified plant life gorging it way up the sides of the tunnel, clinging to wet, crumbling rock and glowing faintly blue in the light. At the very least it provided slight illumination of the tunnel ahead, along with the branching pathways they occasionally crossed that likely led to collapsed rooms and dead ends. Mere months ago she would’ve been anxious over the thought that the ground above her would give way and crush them all in moments. Now, however, months living underground had made the ground above her a comfort more than anything. If there was enough soil between her and the surface, the creatures that roamed freely couldn’t get to her.

Although that didn’t exactly apply when they were heading straight into the breeding facility; the heart of the creatures, their origin, where they still poured out in lucrative amounts, a constant supply keeping the surface a hazard.

We’re only about a half-mile away, Dex informed them. He spoke into their shared mental space, kept in place by Sophie and Fitz’s combined efforts, eliminating the need for out-loud conversation. Some of the creatures--especially the ones that liked the dark--had particularly keen hearing, and the closer they got, the riskier any noise would be.

Her head snapped to the side as Biana skidded for a moment on a patch of gravel, sucking in a sharp, silent breath as she caught herself. They all winced, pausing to listen if the sound had caught the attention of anything nearby.

Biana didn’t bother to apologize, they all knew it was inevitable and unavoidable--and it couldn’t be undone.

Remember the plan? It was Fitz’s voice echoing through their heads this time, although it felt like he was trying to whisper despite it being mental. They all nodded in response, and Keefe patted his pocket, bulging with the same explosives they all carried.

Sophie cleared her mind, running through the plan--which she’d done so many times by now the exact words were likely permanently etched into her brain. At the end of this system of tunnels--which Dex was navigating them through--was the breeding facility. This breeding facility was where the creatures on the surface were created, and where they were still coming from. Old and new types alike. Sophie had a basic outline of the facility--it had been difficult enough to find the location, buried deep beneath the earth, getting specifics was impossible--and the areas they were to hit. Everyone had a stash of explosives, black cubes small enough you could wrap your fingers around them. They’d get in, set up the devices, get out, and detonate them once they were a safe distance away.

It was supposedly simple, but everyone had their own speculations about what could possibly go wrong; the most likely was that they would be caught in the act.

The tunnel began to widen, opening into a large cavern; but, as they looked up, they realized it hadn’t always been. Pillars rose around them towards an arching ceiling, carved designs gracing the stone. It appeared this place had once been a grand room, almost reminding her of Victorian castles, but the floor had collapsed into rubble, green vegetation covering nearly every inch.

Linh rotated her hand as she fluttered her fingers, seemingly almost absentmindedly. The leaves rustled faintly, in response to her call. She said nothing for a moment, and Sophie’d almost forgotten about it when Linh spoke up.

I wonder how these plants are able to flourish so far underground, seemingly on their own. A memory from only a few seconds ago flashed through the mindbubble--Keefe’s nickname that had stuck-- and as Sophie watched it she could feel the body memories of Linh tracing the water through the roots of the plants and into the ground, trying to find a source large enough to sustain this vegetation.

Linh shook her head, nodding to herself and to assure the others she remembered their goal, their mission. The reason they were here.

Adrenaline hummed through Sophie’s veins as she began to survey the walls, the bases of which were a good ten feet above her head. She could sense the rest of the group doing the same, but it was Tam’s searching shadows that found the entrance.

It was nearly buried in a corner, obscured by mounds of rock and swaths of green, but it was there.

Sophie briefly sent out a wave of consciousness into the mindbubble, assessing her team and assuring they were all prepared. They seemed to be, although Linh still seemed to be ruminating on the water in the room, fingers rubbing together rhythmically.

Releasing a slow breath, she crawled into the hole, small enough she couldn’t have even sat up comfortably. If Dex’s directions were to be trusted, this hole would lead into an old ductwork system in the back of the facility, and from there they could drop down and continue as planned. The ground was jagged against her palms, but at the very least her hands were slightly protected by her gloves--the same black everyone was wearing now. They must’ve donned them before crawling in behind her-including Linh.

It’s dead ahead, she said, having spotted the reflection of the ductwork up ahead. She couldn’t imagine it led to anywhere particularly important in the facility, as the air it would’ve brought in was absolutely foul. Whatever glistening substance coated her hands and soaked her knees was going to linger.

She came to a stop at the edge where the rock gave way to rusted metal, but a moment was all she allowed herself. Bracing, she slowly lowered her hand and weight onto the ductwork, hoping it would remain silent.

A small thud resounded as the metal bent, but that was it. She gave the clear to the group and continued forward, already wishing this part were over. The duct was significantly smaller than the already cramped tunnel, but at least the tunnel had glowing fungus to light the path. This was pitch black and tiny, requiring them to shimmy on their elbows with only the light of their pendants to guide them. She wasn’t good enough at night vision for it to help, and she wasn’t going to waste energy trying. She needed to save everything she had.

The group continued forward with bated breath as they searched for an opening in the pathway, everyone eager to escape this claustrophobic nightmare. It’ll be over soon, she reminded herself, but when Biana echoed back, Soon, she realized she’d spoken into the mindbubble. Her cheeks flushed for a moment, but it was quickly put out of her mind when she saw a change in the lighting up ahead.

There’s something coming up, she transmitted, hushed. Don’t know what though. There was palpable hope in the air; they were all wishing it was the opening they’d been waiting for, but no one wanted to be let down if it turned out it wasn’t.

Sophie attempted to maintain the quickest pace she could without making sound, but in her urge to get to that possible opening, she nearly kicked the side of the duct. The person behind her--likely Marella, she hadn’t looked--sucked in a breath as everyone froze.

After only a moment's pause, she began forward again, now at a much more reasonable pace as the shift ahead was confirmed to be a vent.

She came to a stop before the slits of the vent, peering down into the room below, sending out a sweep of her consciousness to see if she could hear any thoughts indicating people nearby. Determining it was clear, she slipped the small multipurpose tool from where it’d been stored in her sleeve and began to undo the screws. It made an awful groan when she tugged off the grate, and she gripped it tight in one hand as she gently slid out face first, catching herself and levitating the rest of the way down.

The ground was surprisingly further than she’d been expecting, a good thirty feet from the vent in the ceiling to the dusty ground. Her landing left footprints in the dust, but if everything went according to plan the place would be crumbling long before that would become a problem.

The rest of the group slowly drifted to the ground, emerging from the vent one-by-one in a way that almost made Sophie want to laugh. The fear curdling her blood was enough to keep it in her throat, though.

There didn’t seem to be anything in this room besides storage, discarded crates stacked surprisingly aligned, towers reaching up towards the ceiling. Brushing her fingers over the top of a nearby crate, she saw it had a label.

Curious, she tried to read it. Unfortunately, it was either written in ancient elven or some sort of cipher she didn’t understand. Still, she not only wanted to know what was inside, she needed to. If this was something that could be used to create more monsters, it needed to be destroyed.

As she set about opening the case, the others assumed their positions. Dex was already working on something in the corner, hacking the security system so they could monitor the cameras and place them on loop. Biana was near the door with Fitz, who appeared to be mentally scanning the nearby area for thoughts.

She grunted as she pushed the lid open, bracing it on her shoulder as she peered inside. Her stomach squirmed uncomfortably, and she very quickly closed the crate before anyone else could peek inside. She didn’t want them to see that.

This room has got to go, she whispered into the mindbubble, and while she could feel their curiosity, they didn’t push the issue. Wylie only nodded, removing one of his explosives from his pocket and wedging it between a few crates near the center of the room.

We’re clear to move ahead, Fitz said, and Dex seconded him, holding up his modified imparter. It appeared to connect directly into the camera feeds, where he could switch between different cameras and assess their surroundings.

As we move I’ll be placing the cameras each group is near on a loop, but try not to linger; it’s not a guarantee. Sophie nodded, and Dex passed his imparter near the door, which clicked unlocked.

The door pushed open, presumably by the now-invisible Biana, and they all filed out into the hall. It seemed to hit them all then, that this was truly happening; this was high stakes. At any moment they could be caught, but if they succeeded the entire place would hopefully fall on top of itself, burying these horrors permanently.

The halls were all the same murky, metal grey, as though trying to imitate the stone it had been carved from. Faint gouges could be seen in the walls, and the lights were flickering balefire, every few feet another ball of flame was placed, providing inconsistent illumination.

Sophie went left with Biana, Linh, Dex, and Maruca; Fitz went right with Keefe, Tam, Marella, and Wylie. They’d done their best to disperse abilities across the groups, but it still left each one lacking key assets. But that was unavoidable.

Biana--with Sophie’s help--ensured that their group remained visibly undetected, and she was grateful they had practiced moving in sync back home, otherwise, everyone would’ve tripped over each other. Systematically they made their way through the facility, not actively trying to hide evidence they’d been there but not going out of their way to make it obvious. The intention was that the plan would be executed and the place would be falling long before anyone would notice anything, so speed was their true ally.

Each explosive placed had the lump of anticipation in her throat rising steadily higher. This was truly happening. She kept reminding herself that in just an hour this would be over. However it ended, it would be over.

Footsteps sounded off to the side, and the group froze, pressing themselves into the corner of the room. Similar to all the others, it was stacked high with crates and racks of vials nearly up to hip height, organized this time by color. Sophie had placed her explosive underneath one of the vials, clearly visible to anyone who walked into the room.

Now they could hear voices as well, murmuring sharply as they came closer and closer to the room. Sophie could hear Biana’s pained gasps in the mindbubble, exerting extra energy to keep all five of them expertly hidden. Her fingers were clamped around Sophie’s own, nails digging into Sophie’s skin as she shook with the exertion.

There was a window in this particular room, so even a moment's slip could reveal them to the figures they watched stop in front of the glass. She memorized their faces, and could feel the others doing the same. A man with curling black hair and light brown skin, talking to someone much shorter than him, who looked to be no more than a child in a frilly gown, hair tangled and red. They were clearly having an argument of some sort, the girl stomping her foot dramatically.

Please don’t come in here. She wasn’t sure which of them had said it, but they’d all been thinking it. Biana would’ve if all her energy wasn’t going into keeping them invisible.

Is something wrong? Their anxiety must’ve been enough to send the message throughout the entirety of the mindbubble, not just their group, and Keefe’s concern echoed throughout their heads. When he got no response the others started chiming in, which at least meant they weren’t in any immediate danger if they had the luxury of checking in on them.

The nails dug further into her skin as the man outside the door sighed, swiping a keycard and unlocking the door, shoving it open with his shoulder as he continued to scold the girl.

“Absolutely you may not--” he began to say, one foot through the door frame, yet he still hadn’t looked, eyes on the girl. The voices in her head went silent, the adrenaline flooding her system drowning her alive until it was only that man and the explosive on the table, ever so visible.

He began to turn, eyes moving inside the room, door fully open as he stepped in.

The girl screamed. She screamed in frustration and stomped her feet and darted down the hallway, barely avoiding tripping on her elaborate gown.

The man’s attention whipped after her and he snarled something incoherent, stalking briskly after her, the door thudding shut behind him.

He left behind a thick silence, and it took a full thirty seconds before Biana’s grip on her loosened, a faint panting coming from the empty space near her as Biana swayed slightly, leaning heavily on whoever was next to her.

They lingered only a few more seconds, just barely enough for Biana to regain her composure. It was imperative they move on as quickly as possible; they had no clue when that man would be back, but it was certain he would return before they'd blown the building.

As they left she took a brief moment to hide the explosive, somewhere that wouldn’t be so easily visible for when that man returned. It would buy them time, hopefully.

Work quickly, Sophie transmitted, sending the message echoing towards the others. That had been much too close, and her urgency must’ve been obvious because she could feel the others perking up.

She could see her group’s minds lingering on that little girl, the one who’d thrown a tantrum and saved their lives. They’d known, theoretically, that there were people in this building, not just supplies and serums and whatever else created monsters, but they’d reasoned their way through the guilt. Anyone in the building was actively harming the planet and helping produce those creatures in some way; they were all complicit, so the world would be better if it were rid of them. That was something they could deal with if it saved their families, their friends stuck underground as the world above was ravaged.

That little girl was just that: a little girl. She couldn’t have been older than five; she played no part in these deadly games, yet she’d pay the same price.

Sophie hauled them through the hallways, ducking into a particularly shadowed corner away from the balefire light, the rest of her team slightly dazed. Someone's memory of that feisty girl lingered in the mindbubble, a silent question, hesitance. She could feel the other group somewhere else in the facility stop dead at the sight of her, dread tightening their stomachs as their minds cycled through the possibilities. How many just like her were hidden somewhere within these walls, unaware of the horror and grief surrounding them, coating the floors and washing through the halls; how many?

There’s nothing we can do about that right now, she transmitted to everyone, desperately trying to return them to their senses. They couldn’t do anything with everyone in such a state, clouded minds and stumbling limbs, and her panic alongside her upbringing fraught with human horror gave her enough lucidity to be the leading voice of reason. Perhaps they’d abandon the mission--although that was a last resort. They’d already gone to so much trouble--but they couldn’t do anything just standing about, practically begging to be caught.

Their minds sharpened, and someone gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, telling her they were there and they were okay. She exhaled quietly, glancing around anxiously to double-check they’d remained undetected.

Sophie was almost certain she could feel the heavy, fluttering pulses of her friends reverberating through the air as they continued on, jumping at each faint sound. Their near disaster had sombered the group, and they all appeared infinitely more aware of their surroundings, expecting someone to appear any moment.

They weren’t communicating exactly, but when they’d gotten down to their last two explosives she mindlessly reached out into the mindbubble, searching for Fitz and the others. She could feel rather than hear his response, although he seemed to be just as distracted. The others in her own group placed the last two as she scanned the surrounding space for thoughts; they made their way through the halls, peering through windows into the rooms--which were surprisingly abandoned. Apparently, the storage units were not a priority when it came to security.

Or they were guarded by something much more sinister than mere guards. The gouge marks in the walls seemed to leer at her, more ominous than they’d been a moment before.

It turned her stomach, thinking about just how expansive the facility was. It appeared infinite, spanning several stories above and a few below them, each floor impossibly tall and wide. They’d made their way down about two flights, targeting the structural supports of the building so everything would be crushed in the downfall. She intentionally kept herself from thinking about that little girl.

There’s the rendezvous room, Dex said, and Sophie shook herself internally, pulling the group forward. When they’d first come up with the plan, they’d intended to retrace their steps and exit the way they’d come, but it was deemed too high of a risk to sneak back up through the floors of the facility, and they had instead designated the room ahead as a meeting spot. It, too, had large enough vents to crawl through, which eventually made their way to an opening that should allow enough sunlight down for them to leap away with; although, if that didn’t work, they could always work their way through the vents until they’d completely retraced their steps.

Like electricity jolting through water, Fitz reached out to her, giving her a direct line to him to allow her to track his location more easily. The tether between them led to just around the corner up ahead. They were coming from opposite sides, and if you knew exactly what you were looking for you could see a large shadow creeping unnaturally against the wall, so crisp it was practically imperceptible despite her knowing where to look.

Sophie’s group made it to the door first, and Dex’s hands shook slightly as he crouched down to fiddle with the lock. He swiped his imparter across it, but nothing happened. She watched him work through his own eyes, peering through the mindbubble as he let them in. The tension grew as the others caught up to them, Tam’s shadows spreading over them slightly, enough so that Dex could disconnect from the chain, lighting the strain on Biana.

She could see him gnawing slightly at his lip as he tapped on his imparter in quick succession. Someone began breathing deeply and slowly, and she started to scan their surroundings again. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t let them be caught off guard.

Marella shook out her hands, sparks flickering between her fingers, growing with each passing moment that door refused to open. The veins in Wylie’s hands shone for a brief moment as he clenched his fist, the shimmer fading as he relaxed his fingers, glancing around.

There’s a different lock on this door, Dex mumbled, mental voice sounding faintly panicked, as though he were putting effort into sounding in control.

Yeah, no shit, Keefe grumbled, but there was a tension lacing the words that shouldn’t have been there.

Just give me...a...little longer. I think...I’ve got it.

Each pause was accentuated by a small tap as he lost his train of thought, fiddling with the locks. Cold dreaded settled itself in the center of her stomach, reaching dripping tentacles about and curling them around her insides, squeezing tight as the oxygen levels in the room seemed to dip-- and the problem didn’t appear to be the kind she could fix with a few deep breaths.

There was virtually nothing they could do but wait for him to finish, and it was agony to sit there, eyes frantically pacing the gouged walls hoping no one was approaching. Fitz’s mind reached across the mindbubble towards her, and she let him in, pooling their energy together to send pulsing waves of consciousness out around them, searching the nearby areas.

With each pulse that passed over them, the thoughts of their friends flared for a moment before dimming as it passed, but there was no one else nearby. No other flashes of thought near them that they could identify.

Wait.

There.

Fitz made a muffled sound of distress, and she could see the others’ heads snap up towards the both of them.

Shit, they transmitted. Opening their minds, they showed the others what they’d found--or rather, what was about to find them. A few halls away were thoughts, approaching quickly in their direction.

Holy shit they’re close, Biana breathed. And she was right. Normally, they’d be able to detect someone this close clear and simple, but there was a haze over their thoughts that she’d never seen before. It was as though they’d made their thoughts invisible, and she’d only barely been able to see through the deception.

There was nothing to be done about it, however, except fervently hope Dex could open that goddamn door before that person walked around the corner and saw the conglomeration of shadows and a door opening on its own. Which would happen in approximately...thirty seconds.

C’mon, I’m so close, Dex strained, mental voice shaking.

Footsteps echoed just a few moments away, and she began to bounce in place, squeezing her fingers so tight she was surprised the bones didn’t snap.

GOT IT, he cried, wrenching the door open as the lock unlatched. It was a race as everyone scrambled into the room, the footsteps and their hidden thoughts growing closer and closer each second. She couldn’t even think through the adrenaline, her arms shaking so badly there was nothing but the colors in front of her and her goal.

The door clicked shut behind them, just as the person rounded the corner.

They’d made it. Her breath came out in harsh pants, and none of the sounds around her made much sense, but she just couldn’t take her eyes off that door.

FUCK, Tam yelled, and as a force field flickered into place around them, Sophie finally turned around.

To find a room full of various guards, all of whom were staring back, malice and shock glimmering on their faces. But what was even worse were the caged creatures behind them.

Viscous pale syrup dripped from vats spread throughout the room, pulsing with thick spiderwebs of veins and mucous. Her stomach dropped as she tilted her head back to see them more fully, vaguely humanoid but distorted. Limbs stretched out like sticky candy, skin close to wreaking, appendages ending in blunt bone creeping its way out of the body. Hair floated around them in the thick substances, matted and black and shining.

They seemed dormant, but their appendages twitched in time to their thunderous heartbeat, sending waves throughout their liquid enclosures.

That was all she had the chance to see before the guards closest to them pulled out their melders.

Everything seemed to be moving at twice the speed it was supposed to be, throwing her completely off her rhythm.

Maruca stood in front of them, arms spread wide as she held a force-field around them all, Biana had let go of her, choosing to spend her energy in a fight rather than vanishing them, and it was as they broke contact that she realized just how much of her energy Biana had taken.

She swayed on her feet for a brief moment, casting out her mind and trying to get a sense of how many there were in this room that appeared infinite.

Rows of vats spread farther than she could see, although not all seemed to be occupied. None of them should’ve been. They’d gone out of their way to ensure they’d stay far away from any creatures, no matter the potential benefits. There was nothing that could be done against them.

Maruca grunted as pangs clattered against the force field, trying to find a way through. Sophie’s breathing quickened as she realized she couldn’t feel the presence of anyone in the room. It was although she was entirely alone. She couldn’t feel Fitz next to her, or anyone under the force field, and she couldn’t detect anyone outside of it.

There was an ominous silence, despite the shouts of the people around her. Security personnel were murmuring into communication devices, alerting others of a “disturbance in sector 34, room B12.” But no one in her group said a word. They’d learned not to. They spoke in the mindspace however, hysterical and screaming.

This was not the room they were supposed to be in.

There was nothing they could do as warning lights began to flash around them, strobing effects searing her eyes as alarm bells tolled, shrill and vibrating.

It couldn’t have been more than five seconds since they’d walked through that door.

She steeled herself, drawing on that knot of power she kept stored beneath her ribs, feeling the energy channel from her chest towards her head, building and building until almost painful. But she couldn’t release it. She couldn’t attack through the force field, and Maruca couldn’t drop it because then those melders would hit them head-on and they couldn’t withstand that.

Everyone else was in a similar predicament.

Then it got worse.

She didn’t think it could get worse.

How could it get worse?

The creature in the tank seemed to be reacting to either the lights or the sounds--it didn’t really matter which. What mattered was that it was moving; it was opening its gaping maw and screaming within that tank, air bubbles shooting their way towards the ceiling and lingering, a never-ending stream as its body began to buck and thrash sporadically, sharp limbs colliding with glass.

The cylindrical vat cracked, a spiderweb of broken veins spreading from the point of impact, growing with each collision as it began pounding against the glass.

The muffled sounds it made were absolutely horrible, and she slapped her palms over her ears, grimacing. But what truly stopped her heart was the sound of falling glass, wet and raining down, clattering about and bouncing off the force field.

Because now the creature was loose.

The figures who had been attacking them now swore, looking back and forth between each other before darting out of the room; their weapons still raised despite them being little threat beneath their bubble.

The door latched behind them, and Sophie seemed to come to the horrifying reality at the same time as the others.

They had no way out of this room.

SCATTER! Maruca screamed as she dropped the force field, and everyone complied, darting around the room, trying to get out of the way, hoping hoping hoping that creature wasn’t the exceptionally violent kind, and that it would leave them alone.

All of the creatures they’d encountered so far had been aggressive in some way or another--some simply left you alone unless you got close, others would attack on sight. They’d started a notebook to keep track of all the kinds they knew about, but this one was entirely new.

The only solace that could be found was that it seemed to be the only one that escaped its tank, the others appearing undisturbed.

Watching it from behind a stack of crates, Sophie could see it growing more and more agitated, banging its appendages against what seemed to be its head in distress, a warbled screech piercing the air as it began to flail about.

She ducked at the distinct sound of tables and boxes being crushed as the creature stumbled, tearing at the ground. She began to frantically search the room, looking for something--anything--that could help them at all. There had to be another exit, there had to be something they could do.

Her eyes met Keefe’s across the room, and for the strangest moment, she wasn’t concerned about the creature killing them all, or the guards capturing them and holding them hostage, or their explosives going off when they were still in the building. She was just worried he could feel her panic and it would be too overwhelming for him to concentrate.

Wait.

That was it.

Her mind clicked the pieces together and she sank to the floor, pressing her back against the shelves embedded in the wall behind her, putting her fingers to her temples. The creature was overwhelmed and overstimulated, and it was reacting poorly. She’d never tried to communicate with or inflict on any of the creatures before...but she’d never had a reason to.

She just hoped it would work.

Using that gathered energy, she reached out towards the creature, a mental hand fumbling in the dark. But it appeared she couldn’t...find it. There was just...nothingness...wherever she reached.

Opening her eyes slightly, she squinted up at the creature, which was still stumbling around in response to the overstimulation. The visual helped her narrow in on its mind, and as she reached for it she began to realize... its mind was the silence. She hadn’t been able to detect the mind of the people in the room or her friends because this creature’s mind was so incredibly silent; it broadcasted a blanket over everyone nearby.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING, someone hissed into the mindbubble. But she was so far gone that it barely registered as more than a gentle, far-off whisper.

Desperately trying to control herself, Sophie began bringing forward peaceful, calmer memories; she had to reach further back than she’d expected; life hadn’t been particularly relaxing as of late. Finally, when her head seemed to overflow with calming vibes, she sent them out like a shockwave around her, a ripple in the empty.

Anyone paying even the slightest bit of attention could identify the exact moment the wave hit the creature. Its spine went rigid, snapping straight as its head jerked up, their gazes meeting. Each noise fizzled out in the same instant. No one dared breath in that poignant silence, the space almost empty now, and for the briefest moment, she wished that it weren’t so empty, so quiet.

Her wish was answered.

There was no warning as the creature’s head cocked to the side, staring her down with those empty, glistening black eyes, no warning as it lunged towards her.

Well FUCK, was the only thought in her head as it careened towards her, stumbling as though it’d only learned to walk that day, which it might have.

Its movements were uncoordinated, but that didn’t make them any less violent as the tables around them crashed into each other as it crashed onto all limbs, moving with such speed it could cross the room in less than a blink.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. Her friends were screaming, but she couldn’t make a sound. Her eyelids were fluttering shut as that suffocating silence pressed in closer and closer.

The creature was charging straight towards her and she couldn’t think. It lost its balance, coming down hard on top of her, but its limbs were too long to crush her, and instead, it was crashing into the shelves behind her and crushing glass and breaking rock and its own bones and she. Couldn’t. Think.

Crystal shattered behind her as the shelves were wrenched from the walls, the creature desperately trying to right itself, shrieking that inhuman sound. Vials began to rain down behind her, crashing on the hard floor.

The noxious scents of the spilling bottles began to flood the room, visible gases blooming from where the colors mixed, sizzling and bubbling on the floor. The creature bucked its head, scrambling away, limbs bashing the floor as it dashed far, far away into the hollows of the room.

The silence was back, but this time it was accompanied by fumes and watering eyes as everyone pushed to their feet, stumbling and coughing.

We havetoget...Dex began, eyeing the frothing liquids….out ofhere. He was standing so far away. How had he gotten there? She might’ve been nodding her head, agreeing with him, but without the adrenaline, everything was...so slow...and the floor seemed liquid and plush.

She couldn’t see who began coughing, their whole body wracked in a fit as the vapors became so thick she couldn’t see. It occurred to her too late to try holding her breath, her eyelids fluttering as she stumbled a few steps, but she didn’t actually know where she was going.

A thud sounded behind her, and she turned, the room seeming to lag as she did so. Biana. It had been...Biana. She’d made the sound. Her body was crumpled on the ground, unconscious. That should’ve sent a spike of alarm through her, telling her to move. To go. Get out.

But she couldn’t think. And the others quickly followed, a series of thuds echoing throughout the space as one by one, they succumbed to the fumes.

Sophie was still standing, and she briefly made eye contact with Dex--why was he so far--watching him fumble with his imparter. An explosive rumbling sounded in the distance, growing stronger and closer with each moment her eyes remained open. She was upright only long enough to see Dex fall before she felt her muscles give, and she crashed down hard.

Wings AU Taglist:

@loudnerdfest @rainbowtay-11 @cadence-talle @pyrokinetic-loser @ahecktonoffandomsinoneblog @itstiger720 @loverofallthingssmart @cowboypossume @jolieharkness @wings-of-hell-and-beyond @shellyseashell @blossomjenniie @imaramennoodle @booknerdddddd @akotlcblog

#that might've been confusing to read #but you can always ask me questions about the au!!#and now i can answer them more because you actually have some content lol #also can I say i hate formatting #cause I do #anyways please give me your thoughts because I've had this au for so long it feels like it doesn't exist outside my mind #so i'd love to know what you think of it #kinda apocalytic if i do say so myself #anyways ill stop now but thanks for readingggg #no clue how many chapters there'll be but definitely at least a few more #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc wings au #kotlc fic #my writing <3 #shattered upside down #oh also yea it has an actual name lol #tw swearing

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abbynx · 3 years

Text

Stay by my side (Jean-Pierre Polnareff)

Lemon in coming~

This is my first time writing lemon. Please have mercy on me—

"Please,"

Steady stream of tears fell from (e/c) tinted eyes, crystallized with glossy tears as the luminescent flow of the moon shone from above and made way through your room's window, veiling the morose surroundings with an ethereal glow. The optimistic person brimmed with not-so optimistic thoughts dropped to their knees, chest ached with the pang of despair and sheer desperation. Shoulders shook, hands clasped in front of them to pray for the deities out there to listen to them.

That deity... Why, he was the only one you would faithfully worship for the rest of your life, the deity you needed, you yearned for, you love... And you prayed for him not to abandon you like the others.

"P-please, not you too- it shouldn't have to be this way, my love, I beg of you..."

You clung to his arm like a lifeline, you held him like you have never been more afraid to let him go... Perhaps it is the case...

The Frenchman refused to spare a glance at your direction. It was difficult than it already is, he didn't want to see you like this. The smiling fool who refused to waver and lose their smile, was reduced into nothing but a puddle of mess, of despair... The smile... Oh why can't your smile return to you without him needing to remain by your side? If only fate would prevail, but he was bound in a rock and a hard place.

That smile of yours... From the sincerest, to the goofiest. It never failed to infect him. From all the times you spent with him, you found yourself clinging on to him on numerous occasions. From the cheerful moments, and throughout despairing moments... And yet you never wavered. You always find the silver lining and would eventually move forward stronger than ever. You have a way of making Jean-Pierre Polnareff feel special, so accepted, so normal...

The Silver Chariot's user's chest tightened with guilt, but he was determined to set you free... But was he willing to let you go? It's not like he wanted to do this, the aching distance separating you was the one forcing him to do this... The act of revenge. His need to avenge the only family he has, tainted, gone... Sherry was murdered in the most dehumanising way possible.

Gathering all necessary strength, he attempted to pry you off. The ever so persistent Y/N L/N did not budged, but instead held onto it, your fingers interlacing within his slender fingers. The rough sensation of his palm emitted intense heat as you firmly clasped his hand, holding it near your lips, individually kissing his knuckles with every pleas and cries.

"Please, Jean... Don't leave me too... I beg of you, I love you, please don't abandon me like the others did..."

"Y/N please..." His voice came out shakier than he intended. Of course it would, try as he may, he couldn't conceal how he feels. "I can't continue this relationship with you... My existence is a mere compendium of misery... I can't let you be harmed because of me."

"If I lose you-" you shakily choked on your sob, tightly holding onto his hand whilst his ocean tinted gaze merely averted your gaze. Your beautiful eyes... He always found simple joy within dazing in those heavenly pair of (e/c) hued orbs... But he somehow can't bring himself to look at you. "If I lose you... I wouldn't know what to do... You're the only person whom I love who hasn't left me yet... Please... I beg of you... Jean..."

"Let me go, L/N." His voice dangerously dropped low with false resentment. His throat sealed tight with his attempt to prevent himself from sobbing, eyes that held back tears stung. His chest ached with his refusal to breathe, believing that if he does, his façade would break down and collapse.

"Please... I can't live without you... I love you... So much... I don't know what I'd do if you were to leave..." Your trembling hands seized to hold his face, thumb running across his cheeks, eyes deeply fixated upon his eyes with a glossy glint. "You feel the same way, right? You told me you love me, please don't tell me it's a lie... Tell me, is it a lie? Don't you love me?"

"O-of course I love you Y/N, dammit..." A sobs, tears freely leaking from his eyes. He held onto your arms, wanting to pry you off, but you heat emitted comfort that he simply can't let go. And he hated it. He hated that you're right. He can't let you go even if he wants to. He wanted to leave to protect you, but he can't. It was so damn selfish of him. What if something happened to you because of him? "But that's not the point... Y/N I am harbouring an ability that's dangerous and attracts other users... I know the police didn't find any evidence in the crime scene of Sherry's death, but I know it's a work of someone with an ability like mine."

"I don't care what happens to me. I just want to be with you, to protect you even if it costs me life-"

"GODDAMNIT Y/N THAT'S THE POINT!"

You flinched at his unusually solemn tone, as he tightly seized the small of your back, pulling your head to his chest. His chest and shoulders shook with sobs, as tears endlessly oozed from his brilliant ocean tinted eyes.

"If there's anything I fear, it's losing you... Please Y/N, I can't bear to lose you too... Not like that..." He pulls away, and yet you remained close, bodies pressed together, afraid to let go. "I love you... I don't want to let you go... But I don't want you to be hurt, never."

Leaning closer, he firmly presses his plump lips against yours. Holding onto you ever so tightly, he was afraid to ever let you go. His heated palms cupped your face, his thumb delicately stroking your tear stained cheeks with both his and yours, whilst his free hand snakes around the small of your back to pull you closer.

Without a second thought, you immediately returned the kiss as your heart hammered in your chest as if it intended to escape from its deep chasms. Wrapping your arm around his neck, your soft fingers twirling his loose strand of curls whilst the other cupped his cheek.

The French man pulls away, his electric blue gaze upon your magnificent (e/c) hued orbs, before it darts down towards your smiling lips. The dork just have to give him that smile- that smile he swoons over, the smile he adores whenever they wear it naturally across their features because of him.

That sweet smile that sends sweet, heavenly, delightful nudges against his guts that the butterflies in his stomach fed on and will never ever get fed up with it... The Lancelot of a Stand user will never deny to himself that the smile you gave him is the best smile he has ever seen- a smile he would love to see for forever. He wouldn't mind gazing onto them for eternity.

With his bottom lip caught between his pearly white teeth fantasizing about your smile, he sets them free and presses it against yours once more with an audible guttural moan. Leaning a little closer, the pair of couples almost jumped out of their skins when they began tip back and land on the bed.

The silver haired male broke away from the kiss from the sudden fall, as he heartedly chuckled to lightened the sudden predicament at hand. He had you under him, your knees pressed between his, whilst he supported his weight with his elbows with your head between them.

Jean's pale, porcelain of a face dusts with crimson in colour. Despite the darkness, the room was lightly lit with a luminous glow of the moon peaking from your opened balcony from where he entered without shame nor etiquette whatsoever. Other than his obvious tomato face, he saw you...

The Frenchman peered from his silver lashes to admire the ingénue pinned under him. The light glimmer in the eyes that lights up when they smile, the way their skinned basked within the natural glow of the moon lit night... Don't get him started with the cute little blush dusting your cheeks, across their cute nose... No flaws in sight that overshadowed their beauty. They may be critical of their appearance for most of the time, but Jean doesn't get it. You are the most beautiful, most perfect creation he has ever seen that the Goddess of beauty Aphrodite has nothing on you.

Your ambitions, your dreams, your goals, your personality, your interests... All your flaws, all your imperfections... It was a beauty to behold for him. He loved every single bit of you from the purest, to the filthiest. That's how he loves you. He viewed you with Holism. He can't define you with only a single thing about yourself without the need of bringing every part of you up... That's how perfect you were. There's is no word that can define you, other than complex beauty that you are.

And he doesn't understand why you never saw it that way, and why you denied it. And it was his duty to make you know— scratch that... To make you believe your self-worth.

He releases the breathe he didn't realize he was hiding back, with a gentle quirk of his lip to lift it upwards. He was astonished of your beauty that he himself forgot to breathe.

"Well... That could've gone worst—" says the swordsman with a grin. As much as you love his smile, your longing desire for his warm lips against yours empowered you to use your fingers to pinch his chin and lead his lips on top of yours.

Jean-Pierre Polnareff didn't have any room to complain by your sudden interruption, as he admires the way your lips filled in just the right spaces where it felt good. The moment your lips slightly parted to breathe, he slid his tongue within your mouth. Softly moaning, you greatly encouraged this action to resume for both of your pleasures.

As the pair participated in a passionate, heated kiss, his hands found its way into your shirt, sliding his calloused hand as he caressed your bare skin from which you covered with your shirt. Goosebumps erupted from your sensitive skin as the cool, unfamiliar air evaded your exposed stomach whilst the warm, comforting heat of his palm pressed upon your skin calmed you.

The Frenchman tugged on your shirt, wanting it off. Temporarily breaking the kiss, you lifted your shirt off your head before throwing it aside as Jean-Pierre took the chance for his lips to land on yours once more, before it trailed towards your jawline, into your neck, then chest.

His feather-light kisses danced across your chest, grazing every inch of your skin whilst you silently stifled a moan. The Frenchman found himself letting out a soft grunt upon hearing the carnal desire in your voice, his pants tightening with lust as his lips continued to trail and venture through your skin, further down, further down until his head was between your thighs.

Sickly sweet, you filled his senses and had him intoxicated. He knew it feels so wrong, but it felt so right. He shouldn't be here, he should be distancing himself away for all he brought with his existence were nothing but misfortune and death... And yet he craved for more, more of you. Your presence alone reassured him he was not the bringer of misfortune. With your presence alone he was calm, comforted...

"Jean... I need you... Please..." The silver-haired Frenchman peeks from the valley of your thighs, to see the neediness in your gaze peering through your half-lidded eyes, the colour of crimson lust tinting your cheeks and across your nose.

"Of course, mon amour." The Stand user slips himself off from his shirt, before assisting you to take yours off, his cold fingertips brushing by your skin as he grasped the elastic waistband of your undergarments and pulling it off. The man states within the glimmering gaze of his beloved, glossed with a light layer of tears as it slightly leaks out.

Polnareff leans down, his knees pressed between yours, reaches to caress your cheeks in his calloused palms before his lips found its way in your. Locking lips, his finger lingers from your waist, slowly making its way down until it softly pokes sensitive core, gently and tantalizing motion with your juices soaked his fingers.

"Mmmm— Jean..." You broke away from the kiss with a whimper, burying your face on the crook of his shoulder, coiling your arms around his back as he whispers soothing affirmations and sweet nothings in your ear. As his gentle fingers became progressively rough and swift, you found yourself moaning loudly with pleasure, breathe ragged through gritted teeth as you tightly clung to him. An unfamiliar coil arises from your stomach, as the sense of pleasure filled you. "JEAN— AHH—!" you screamed, as the sudden orgasm exploded upon his touch, you lay panting as he merely smirks and props himself atop you.

"My love... I can't hold on any longer... I need you, too..." His pale hand finds its way through your, interlacing his fingers between yours, squeezing tightly as you squeezed back with a smile. "I love you, Y/N... I'm sorry if I always push you away." He pressed his forehead against yours, as he slowly slid himself inside you.

Your pained squeaks squeezed his chest with guilt, prompting him to press his lips against yours. "Shhh, I'll move once you're ready, ma cherie..."

"Jean..." You reached to stroke his cheek, before connected your lips within his, slipping your tongue as you wait for him to adjust inside you. "I love you... I love you so much... Please don't leave me... If I lose you I wouldn't know what to do..."

The thought of leaving you behind pained him, but the thought of his sister's killer roam around like the free man he is. It tore him apart. It broke him. It was a matter of choosing between to return the honour of his sister, to avenge her... Or to remain by your side, safely living his life with you...

He shook his head, before pressing his lips harder against yours. He couldn't bare to think of anything else within this moment. It would be sullying your passion you have evidently presented to him, knowing your parents' sheltered you all your life to keep you innocent and pure. Here he was the charming good he is, he never knew how you managed to fall in love with, fall in love with him to the point of disobeying your parents and loving him in secret.

Polnareff closes his eyes, before he began thrusting his hips forward, your whimpers and moans echoing across the room as you tightly held onto him like a lifeline. You wrapped your legs around his waist, whilst your arms around his neck.

#jean-pierre polnareff #jjba part 3 #Jojo's Bizzare Adventure Stardust Crusaders #jojo sdc #smut #lemon #have mercy on me #x reader #polnareff jojo #polnareff x reader #gosh i am cringing

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imma-potatoo · 3 years

Note

For the bthb, may I request Logan and U!Patton with Thrown Down The Stairs? Maybe with some Remus or Janus comfort later? Idk, I just like your writing style and am crazy for Logan angst.

@badthingshappenbingo

Send me a prompt with a character! Please specify ships! No romantic prinxeity, r*mr*m or U!Janus and U!Logan please!

You wanted Logan angst? You got Logan angst~

Prompt: thrown down the stairs.

Warnings: U!Patton, blood, gore, choking, scratching at throat, concussion, thrown down stairs, pinning, graphic abuse, punching, slapping, ask to tag

(I'm really sorry this took so long. Wifi problems and family shit)

-----

Love

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Logan walked out of his room, humming a small song (Crofters the Musical, but that was only for him to know) dress shoes clicking softly on the wooden floors while he skimmed over the book in his hands. The mindscape was just as bustling as usual, he could hear Janus lecturing Remus in the darker half of the mind about how stealing Roman’s sword and turning it into a dagger was inappropriate and that he’ll have to make Roman a new one. Roman himself was sulking in his room playing Burn from Hamilton on loop because “Remus is dead to me like Hamilton was dead to Eliza”…. Logan didn’t get it. Virgil’s music was turned on max; like always but this time he was trying to drown out Roman’s complaints with My Chemical Romance. Patton was most likely baking in the kitchen once again.

Logan flipped open to the page he left off on; he had just started this book so he wasn’t too far in. He couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face as he started to read,

The person who was supposed to love me the hardest-the most unconditionally-has always wanted me gone. No matter how hard I tried to be perfect. Now, this boy-who knows all my imperfections and has seen all my hurt laid bare-wants me to sta- Logan’s reading was interrupted by a door clicking open.

Logan looked up to see Patton closing his bedroom door. An ear to ear grin plastered on his face, it was a little too much teeth for his comfort. Patton locked eyes with the blue side, “Hiya kiddo!”

Logan slipped his bookmark back into the thin pages, “Greetings Patton.” Logan waited for a second or two for Patton to walk beside him; after all, when someone comes out of their door, you have to wait for the other to join you on your walk.

And Patton did, they started towards the staircase; Logan tracing the book pages with his fingers. “So! Where ya headed kiddo?!” Logan had always thought Patton was a little too cheery for his tastes, but that was just the father’s personality, he couldn’t change that.

“I’m headed to the imagination to read,” for a brief second, Logan forgot who I was talking to, “It's actually quite an interesting book! The Dangerous Art of Blending In is considered a must-read for pride month and is based on the author's true story,” Logan continued to talk; eyes twinkling with excitement and pure joy as he went on to explain the main character’s arc so far.

The blue side steeled his expression to his happy grin, “That sounds interesting kiddo! Can I see it?”

Logan grew stiff, but continued walking with Patton until they made it to the top of the stairs, Logan shifted his eyes downward and handed the book to Patton. Morality swiped the book straight out of Logan’s hands, he pulled it open to a random page and started to read. Logan watched in horror as the older side’s expression shifted from mild curiosity to confusion, to disgust, and finally to anger.

“Why are you reading these horrible things, Logan?” Patton’s smile was gone, eyes cold and disapproving as he stared into Logan’s eyes. “This is something Remus would read. Why. Are. You. Reading. It.” Patton stood tall, teeth formed into a sneer as he stepped closer.

Logan took a small step backward, “I-I-”

“Shut up.” Logan hit the wall when Patton hissed through his teeth, “Come on Lo-Lo! If you read stuff like this, you’re just as bad as Remus and Janus! You don’t want to be like them, do you?” Patton was inches away from Logan’s face. His breath hot on his skin, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

Logan gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “W-well, I thought that Even and Henry’s story was a sweet story about overcoming hardships, even when you’re put in a bad si-” The stinging pain of Patton’s hand hitting his face stopped him in his tracks. Tears leaked down as Logan raised his hand to his cheek.

Logan looked at Patton with wide eyes, “y-yo-” The blunt end of a punch struck his face, Logan could only stand in shock as he felt his lip start to leak crimson, “Patton stop!”

The so-called father pushed his hand against Logan’s neck, keeping him in place even while Logan clawed at his hand and own throat, attempting to pry Patton off. His nails dug into his flesh, small warm droplets of blood pricking out of the skin as Patton tightened his hold.

“You, Lo-Lo-Bear, need to learn when to shut up~” Logan was sure that his neck was going to be bruised, all he could do was wheeze a suffocated breath in response. Patton applied his sugar-sweet smile once more, looking into Logan’s eyes with a twisted fascination.

Logan attempted to speak, he knew that he couldn’t. But words were his weapon. Without his voice he was helpless, and he refused to give in to the father figure’s torment. Patton had always been particularly touchy, touching them when it wasn’t necessary. Hands grazing over their shoulders or swiping things from their hand to look it over. Patton had also always been particularly violent. Pushing them against walls over little things and whispering threats. It didn’t make these situations any less terrifying though. And this was the first time Patton had taken it this far.

Logan’s hands were covered in blood. His blood. Gore covered his fingers and Patton’s hand, a few small beads hitting the floor; as well as Patton’s cartoon-themed sneakers. Long thin scratches ran up and down his neck, his nails had thick pieces of skin underneath the nails.

Patton raised an eyebrow at the side’s attempt to pry him off, he huffed a breath and let go of Logan’s neck.

Logic fell against the wall, hands immediately wrapping around the sluggish bleeding at his neck, Logan breathed in short ragged breaths eyes wide and staring at the floor. Breathing in the sweet addiction of oxygen.

Patton smiled, eyes skewed shut while the side on the floor held himself tightly. “There! Didn’t you learn your lesson kiddo?” Patton waited a second or two for Logan to respond, his breathing calm and steady as he swirled the crimson liquid on his hand. “Right kiddo?” Patton bore his cold eyes onto the crumbled side, he barely waited a second before seizing Logan’s wrist and pulling him to his feet.

The cyan side held Logan by his tie, right in front of the staircase. Logan could barely process anything before the side in front of him smiled, locking his eyes. And then, he let go and pushed Logan down the steps.

Logan fell, hitting almost every stair on his way down. He could feel his blood vessels burst as his arms scraped on the wooden railing, splinters indenting into his flesh. His head spun when it hit the stairs, glasses flying off. Logan could barely tell what was happening to him as he hit his head repeatedly, he knew that he heard a crunch from his left arm and right leg when he hit the bottom landing.

Logan laid on his face, breathing hard and rapidly. His mind was fogged over, no coherent thought could pass through as the ringing sound that suddenly plagued his mind filled his senses. He couldn’t hear his father figure climb down the steps, taking care to step over the blood spatters that covered them.

Patton poked Logan in the ribs with his shoe, giggling when the side groaned in pain. “You really should be more careful kiddo! Stairs can be pretty dangerous you know!” The cyan side took one last look at his victim before pulling Logan’s book from his pocket.

Patton opened the book to its center point, before grabbing each side of the novel and ripping it in half. Pages floated down like butterfly wings, gracefully falling as they surrounded the broken side in bitter mockery of the book. Patton threw what was remaining of the book onto Logan, his demeanor just as peppy and upbeat as ever, even while covered in another’s blood.

“You really need to be more careful with your possessions, Logic, such a tragedy, you know I love a good book.” Patton walked back up the staircase to his bedroom, while Welcome to the Black Parade blasted from Virgil’s speakers, Logan barely responded to the father figments door slamming.

Logan had no idea of how long he let his blood stain the carpet, but his mind grew even fuzzier as the room grew black. He allowed the sweet bliss of sleep to cloud his function telling him to stay awake. He closed his eyes, only to have someone shake him.

“-GAN! LOGAN WAKE UP!” The panicked voice of the deceitful side flooded his head, he tried to force his eyes open; muscles spasming. “There we go! Come on starlight! Stay awake! Remus is coming back with the medkit! Just stay with me!” Logan followed his voice, the smoothness and composed attitude of the yellow side was gone. Logan hated seeing the silver-tongued side like that.

“I-I see you have a copy of The Dangerous Art of Blending In! It’s such a good book right! I l-ove how the author wrote Henry! Don’t you? Come on Logan, stay awake!” Logan looked into the terrified side’s eyes. The enchanting yellow and brown eyes kept his focus even if they were clouded in fear, he wondered why he never noticed the flecks of green surrounding the slivered pupil before.

“I GOT THE MEDKIT!” The horse voice of Remus broke his concentration on the pretty eyes, why did everyone call Janus a monster anyway? Was it the scales? Logan could only wonder as the two dark sides hastily applied the first aid. Voices scared and rushed as they faded into the background, Logan could only focus on how Remus’ mustache was perfectly curled into its position, even when it was soaked in tears. Tears? Why were they crying? Patton said that they were monsters, and monsters don’t cry. Then again, monsters don’t help people either…

Logan watched the two sides dig into the kit as fast as they could. Janus even removed his gloves.

Logan gazed at them tiredly, mouth lightly sagged open, “There we go! I think we can move him now Jan!” “Good! Let’s get him out of here before Patton comes back, I think he did this…”

Logan could feel his body raising to meet the ruffles of Remus’ tunic. The small teeth that embellished the ends of the fasteners rubbed against his shoulder. He didn’t have the energy to make any noise as the two sides took him back to their side.

He doubted he would ever return to the picture-perfect family he once belonged to ever again. He had his actual family, ready to help him through everything.

Janus bought him a new copy of his book too.

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alia-turin · 3 years

Text

As I said I will update that fairly quick...I did edit this chapter probably 30 times so i do apologize.

Fic Title: Somewhere in Time (Chapter 2) Previous Chapters: 1 Fandom: The Witcher (Aen Elle) Pairing: Caranthir/F/OC Warning: Canon typical violence for this chapter AO3 Link

Aine watched as the man walked out of the room and her body sank all the way down on the floor, her back painfully dragging against the stone wall behind. Her breathing became laboured even if there was nothing obstructing it, she was gasping as if she was drowning. Somehow even the events from today did not seem as terrifying as that encounter. She didn’t dare blink as every time she closed her eyes, even for a second, she could see his face imprinted in her mind. He had not hurt her, not the same way he did in the woods, but the way he had looked at her, as if she was an animal to be sold was even worse in a way. She had to get out of here, one way or another she had to leave.

Just then the door opened and Aine could feel her heart stop, did he change his mind? He forgot he actually meant to kill her and now was coming to finish the job? Fortunately it was just a human servant who brought food, wash basin and clothes. Aine tried to get on her feet but her muscles just refused to listen, her legs barely moved and she fell again, shaking and terrified.

“Wait!” she shouted after the human as loud as she could but the woman just turned around and gave her an annoyed look and then closed the door as she walked out. Aine wasn’t surprised, nothing new in the look she received really, hoping a human would feel any kinship to her was optimistic at best.

She forced herself through the pain and fear and ran toward the door, but the moment she grabbed the handle she couldn’t push it down. No matter how hard she tried even hanging her full weight from it nothing happened it was like the thing was nailed together. She sat on the cold stone next to the door wanting to cry but she couldn’t even force herself to do that anymore.

The events from today just couldn’t stop running through her head. What did she do to get herself into that? Why her? From all the creatures on this earth why hear? She was a...nobody and bothered nobody. Then her mind went to him...he terrified her. The way he looked at her, the cold eyes, his voice, his touch...

She must have fallen asleep without realizing, fear and stress could do that. When she woke up it was already dark. Aine was grateful for a dreamless sleep, maybe she was so exhausted that her brain couldn’t even recreate anything worse than what had happened, but it could have been worse, way worse and she knew that. She pushed herself up, her body screaming in new unknown pains due to the uncomfortable position she had fallen asleep in. She saw a match on the table and lit the candles around the room. The space was bigger than any bedroom she ever had, probably bigger than some rooms in her father’s mansion but considering she was in the castle in Tir na Lia she assumed that was just how things were.

She lit the final candle that was placed on the vanity just across from the bed. Aine could barely recognize the face that looked at her from there, dirt and blood was smudged over her skin, her hair was a mess and her whole neck had turned purple and blue with bruises. She could see the marks of his gauntlet printed clearly on her skin.

Aine turned her back at the mirror not willing to look at her broken reflection. Her eyes fell on the washbasin and the clean clothes neatly placed on one of the chairs. Crippling, she found her way there and started taking her clothes off. Everything hurt, and there were more bruises and friction burns on her arms and legs, touching her back revealed it wasn’t significantly better. She started cleaning the dirt and blood gently but at some point that became frantic scrubbing as if trying to just erase memories from her skin. Once she was as clean as it was possible she put the clean clothes - riding pants, fitted shirt and a sleeveless vest to go on top of all that. It wasn’t what she would wear but it was all nice and comfortable. Fine leather and fabrics, ironically they fit well as if made for her.

She sat on the bed and started thinking. Aine couldn’t open the door and the window was way too high. Also what was that thing he said about her being a mage? That was a game he was playing to throw her off, but why? Wouldn’t she know if she had any power? All her life everything she ever wanted was to be left in peace and for the most part she had managed to do that until now. She needed to leave, preferably alive and not hurt further than she already had been.

Caranthir watched as Imlerith fed the dog food scraps under the table. His mind however was somewhere else, his food and drink were untouched for hours now and he had not spoken a single word. His mind just couldn’t stop thinking about her. He knew the feeling of attraction, he had felt it before and it ended in pain. It was silly to call it attraction now however...to what? Curiosity, she was a puzzle and he wanted to solve it. Pretty little puzzle he can play with and then...he had no idea what then.

“You are Aen Saevherne. I need you to take Crevan’s place in court.” he didn’t even notice when Eredin had walked in or even sat on the chair across.

Caranthir didn’t respond. His mind was too occupied with other things, Eredin would get what Eredin wanted so why even ask him? But he wasn’t asking, was he? It was a statement.

“That is a terrible idea.” He didn’t say no, nobody told no to Eredin and even he wasn’t sure how far he could push the man. The king was his friend, or at least Caranthir considered him as such, he was also his mentor in a sense, he wouldn’t be where he was if it wasn’t for Eredin, in every meaning of that word. “Your nobles won’t be happy.” The king shrugged and that was the end of the discussion. He hated court, but he was going to do it for his king.

Tir na Lia was fragile after Auberon’s death. Eredin had the power, but there were still some who disapproved. Some who thought they could do better than him. Imlerith and Caranthir had both advised for their heads to be taken off and solve that problem, but somewhere Ge’els managed to win the argument against.

“How is your mare doing?” Imlerith asked with a smile.

“I need a new crop.” the king said after he drank from his glass. “Which reminds me...I heard an interesting rumor.” Eredin’s eyes stopped on Cranthir. “You got yourself a trophy from your little escaped humans hunt.”

Caranthir raised an eyebrow. He didn’t want to talk about it. He also did not want to think about it, but it was all that was in his head. The storm of feelings that was just destroying almost every rational thought he could hold right now.

“I will tell you everything about it.” Imlerith was grinning at him. “Pretty face, he must have found it especially pretty because he stopped me from nailing her in the ground.” he laughed so loud Carathir winced. Eredin looked as curious as if someone had just told him he can conquer other worlds.

“It’s not about that.” Caranthir got up, he was not in the mood. “She is half human and she can use magic, that could be dangerous.”

Imlerith and Eredin exchanged looks and they both smiled, he guessed he should be grateful it wasn’t full blow laugh.

“Did I just hear your frozen heart beat, Caranthir?.” Eredin pushed further. They all did that, making fun of each, but he just wasn’t in the mood for it now.

“I’m going to sleep.” Caranthir got up, his drink still not touched. It wasn’t their mockery that bothered him, he was used to it, he had done worse to them and he knew he could receive worse. He didn’t need his emotions to betray him.

In his bed he laid awake for hours. He was trying to arrange his thoughts in a way that was not just floating aimlessly, but more he tried the harder it became.

The logical part of his brain, partially, recognized the problem. The minor physical similarities had made him think about a different person. But this part of his brain could not provide an explanation why he still felt unable to just make a decision about the girl’s future.

His thoughts went to her face, the memory of her, picking the traces from both races. He wondered about the eyes. Was that a defect that happened from mixing the races or it was carried in the family? Was she more like him - just an accident marking or something inherited. But it wasn’t really a defect, was it? His face was a grotesque abomination, while hers was perfect in its imperfection. Maybe that was what got him. In a sense she was like him, just a play of nature, but unlike him, she turned out better.

There was more to that. He could imagine someone half elf half human not having place anywhere. Humans probably despised her because everyone treated her better than them, but knowing his fellow Aen Elle he could imagine they did not accept her either. Explained why they found her where they did. That also reminded him of his own faith. Sure, nobody ever looked down on him, but he was just Avallac’h’s experiment. If it wasn’t for his powers he wouldn’t belong anywhere.

Aine spent the night awake, too afraid to even roll in the bed. Her mind was going to the worse possible scenarios of what would happen to her next. She jumped as she heard the door opening, fearful of what was coming. The man from yesterday walked in again but next to him was a servant girl. The girl looked down, she was terrified, but Aine couldn’t decide if it was of him, or just that was the way she was. Humans had a reason to be scared of the Aen Elle, so in a way she sympathized. The servant left a tray on the table and stopped in front of the man. He waved her off with annoyance. Aine had never seen someone being so happy to leave a room.

It was the two of them now, she was sitting on the bed, her hands digging in the sheets hoping a hole would open and swallow her in the ground. He was just standing by the door, his relaxed posture sharp contrast to hers. He had a book in his hand which she found odd, but kept her thoughts to herself.

Caranthir watched her just being frozen with fear. He was impressed that despite the stress she was under she did not manifest her power even for a moment, more to his little pizzle to solve. He liked challenges. The clothes the servants had brought her yesterday fit perfectly and he caught himself staring for way too long instead of doing what he was supposed to do.

“Food is there.” he pointed at the table, but she looked at him with alarm and confusion. “If I want to kill you, poison is not going to be the way.”

“There are worse things than death.” she jumped off the bed and walked toward the table picking the path that was as far as possible from him. She was right of course, knowing what he was capable of, poison should be the one she hoped for. Carathir just observed. She was limping, he could see she had a hard time bending her knees. Imlerith swiping the floor with her must have done it. His teeth grinded against each other and his jaw clenched at the sight. She slowly sat on the chair, her eyes still fixed on him as if expecting him to attack her any moment.

Caranthir stepped toward the other chair she was still watching him but to her credit she did not run. He sat, the two of them just looking at each other. One thing he had to admit she was not avoiding to look at his face, or whatever she could see from it. Her eyes just reflect fear which could be for a number of reasons including the way he looked. He ran a finger through the strands of hair that usually covered the worst damage - still covered, hidden as much as possible. He liked to pretend he did not care about what people thought when they looked at him, but he always did. For some silly reason, especially now.

“What is your name?” he was going to start small. He also reached for the food just to show her he was not trying to kill her. Caranthir had made his mind that he won’t harm her, unless provoked. He hoped he could keep with that.

“Aine.” she responded quietly as if giving him the name would hurt her in some way. It meant light. Caranthir found something oddly amusing in that considering everything he and Imlerith managed to drag her through yesterday and somehow he still saw beauty.

“Do you have family?” she didn’t respond. “This is going to be way easier for you if you answer my questions.” he knew he sounded threatening but he didn’t really mean it like that. He was curious.

“My father is an elf, my mother is a human. She was a servant in his house.” Caranthir smiled, servant was a nice way to say slave, which most humans here were.

“Where are they now?” Through the years he had learned who his parents were, but he had decided he wanted nothing to do with them. Why should he? Both of them had agreed to be Avallac’h’s test rats and to leave their son. He was the only one who never wanted to be involved in that and there he was. Probably the same could be said about her. Half elven half human child, that couldn’t have been an easy life but nobody had asked her if she wanted to be alive or not. Just like him they were both victims of their parent’s stupidity, different types of stupidity of course, but painful nonetheless.

“I don’t know.” She was lying to him. The way her eyes shifted, the sound of her voice trembling. He let her have that one small victory and he would figure it out later.

“My name is Caranthir Ar-Feiniel.” They were going to spend some time together and might as well be polite. He didn’t get a reaction as he spoke his name. He usually did, people were impressed or scared, her level of fear did not move from what it has been so far, he could have told her he is the castle baker. He couldn’t decide if he was offended or even more amused.

“Would you let me go, Caranthir Ar-Feiniel?” there was innocence and naivety in her voice, but it was honest. Caranthir knew the answer was no, it wasn’t responding that made him think. The complete untainted innocence in her words and the way she spoke surprised him. Reminded him of something he had lost years ago or maybe something he never had, just imagined he did.

Aine’s heart was beating so fast she thought she would just drop dead any moment from the anxiety. She knew the answer of her question, but what choice did she have? Fighting him was impossible, even if in some unimaginable way she could go past him, what then? There were guards probably every ten feet in the castle. Fall on her knees and beg him? Her pride meant very little to her right now compared to her life, but what would be the point if that would get her nowhere. No, if she wanted out she had to be smart about it, and hope that she managed to stay in one piece until she figured it out.

“That is for you.” he didn’t answer the question, he didn’t have to. Caranthir placed the book he was carrying on the table. Slowly she reached for it and took it. It wasn’t thick, the cover was fine white leather. She slowly opened the book almost suspicious of his intentions.

“Foundations of Magic.” she read the tile. “ By Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha”

“Dull writing can bore you for sure, but it will help you understand how to use the power within you.” he got up, but didn’t walk away just looking at her as if he had something else to say or was just...studying her. Aine looked down at the book again trying to avoid the intensity of his cold eyes. “Tomorrow, based on all you have learned you will move that.” as he finally spoke he pulled one of the rings from his hand and placed it on the table. “Using magic.”

She looked at the ring and she looked back at him again. Why was he so determined? What was his obsession? She couldn’t use magic and no amount of books was going to change that. She could probably read the whole Tir na Lia library and that won’t change the fact she couldn’t use magic.

“What if I cannot do it?” Caranthir ignored her question and started walking toward the door. “And what if I can do it?” she tried to change the question just to determine which option would be more...painful. His face or actions did not betray anything. He just opened the door, but stopped right before walking out.

“I will see you tomorrow my little canary.” he stepped out and Aine just stared at the door. She knew she couldn’t open the damned thing so why even bother getting up if that was also going to cause more pain than it was worth it.

“Canary” she repeated out loud. It was suitable in the most petrifying way.

#my writing

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cindersandroses · 4 years

Text

Digital Get Down, Chapter 5

AUTHORS: cindersandroses ( losille2000 and cinderella1181)

CHAPTERS: 5/?

PAIRING: Actor!Henry Cavill/ Plus-Size OFC

GENRE: Romance/Fluff/HUMOR

FIC SUMMARY: When SuperHank met OrcPrincessPeach on the World of Warcraft message boards, it was love at first raid. Now, almost a year later, they’re ready to take the next step and meet in person. Half a world away from each other, both decide to meet in Atlanta for DragonCon, since she was already going to be there for her work as a game designer at Blizzard… never mind that she is a devout nerd. They both have to face the fact that reality is very different from a digital world.

RATING: Mature

WARNING: Mentions of assault.

AUTHORS NOTES: Love you all!

Also on AO3!

Chapter 5

Opal turned to the side as she looked at herself in the full length mirror on the back of the closet door. She smoothed the front of her dress over her rounded belly and picked at the slight ruching that was meant to help hide her imperfections along with the black color of the dress, but it did neither. There’d be no hiding anything. This was about as bodycon as one could get, and indeed she bought it a long time ago because she thought she looked hot in the form fitting silk. As soon as she got it home, though, and really looked at herself wearing it in the harsh light of day, she put it away, in the back of her closet with the other beautiful clothes she’d bought but never found the courage to wear.

That was changing. Now. Today. Okay, not today. But as soon as she walked back into her house. She planned to go straight to her closet and pull them all out and wear each of them as soon as she had the right opportunity or occasion. Considering that most of them were on the fancier side of things, meant for dates, she figured she’d have more chances to wear them now, anyway.

Even though she and Henry would literally be halfway across the globe from each other after this weekend. She couldn’t dwell on that fact, though. If she did, then the sadness set in. She refused to let that particular emotion claw its way back. They’d make it work if it was going to work. It wasn’t like she couldn’t just take her computer places and work there.

If she could convince her boss to allow frequent trips.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t also spend part of his time in Los Angeles.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Henry walked by behind her, drawing her attention away from those troubling thoughts. He fumbled with the cufflink on his left shirt cuff. She was going to make a quip about it, but the words died on her lips when she noticed he looked at her like a fat kid looked at cake. He licked his lips, smiled, and walked into the bathroom.

She couldn’t help but blush. She never would’ve believed he was truly stealing glances at her, but that notion had been squashed earlier at the spa. In fact, now she was hyper aware of his long, molten stares.

And it was all because of the wonderful esthetician who completed her facial after their massage. What had started out as a traumatic experience ended up making her feel the most confident she’d ever felt in her own skin, thanks in part to Jessa the esthetician’s enlightening conversation.

“He’s looking at you like you are the purest water and he’s just had some hot sauce.”

Opal giggled, and blushed, looking at the woman. “I just keep thinking he’s going to be like, ‘Ugh, not my type’ and leave, Jessa.”

“Girl, please. You got one of those peach bottoms that men love to get a handful of. You already got him eating out of your hand, he’s not stopped glancing over here this whole time,” Jessa said, putting her hand on her hip. “And if he does do that, I got a handful of fine brothers who would eat that peach bottom up. So you just let Jessa know and I’ll hook you up.”

The comment made Opal laugh loudly, disturbing the serenity of the spa and resulted in a few perturbed glares from other clients. Henry had glanced up, one eyebrow raised in interest. She smiled at him sweetly and he went back to his shave. Opal smiled. “Thank you, Jessa. I’ll keep you updated.”

Opal had made sure to slip Jessa an extra tip, even though she was sure Henry had tipped everyone well. Stingy wasn’t really a word she would use to describe this man, not materially or emotionally.

Or physically.

Definitely not physically. He liked touching. Being affectionate.

She did not; or, more aptly, she was not used to it in the romantic sense. But she wasn’t even that affectionate with her family. There were a few hugs here and there as a child, but they weren’t overly huggy. And then there was the other thing he didn’t know about, because she never talked about it, that prevented her from initially enjoying his touches.

It was getting easier, though, the more he touched her. She found, with some relief, that she actually quite liked being close to him in that way. Perhaps there was hope for her, after all.

Opal moved away from the mirror and followed his trail to the bathroom. She rested a hip on the door jamb and watched him finish his grooming. He saw her in the mirror and smiled.

“Like what you see?” he asked, that insidious brow raised.

“Nah,” she said with a grin. “I was just thinking about how you use twice the product I do.”

Henry rubbed his hands on a hand towel to remove the remnants of whatever moisturizer he’d used on his freshly shaved jaw. “That’s because it takes a lot to make me look this good. You’re already bloody gorgeous, so you don’t need it.”

Her cheeks heated and she shifted her weight awkwardly on her bare feet. Why were compliments so difficult to take?

“And as an answer to your question, I do like what I see,” she replied. “I appreciate your efforts. But I also love getting to just observe each other. That’s what we were missing over the last year.”

Henry stopped and smiled at her. “I watched you getting ready, and that’s why I’m so behind. I couldn’t stop watching you. You are enchanting,” he whispered.

The air caught in her lungs upon hearing the deep gravelliness of his sentiment. He closed the distance between them. The hunger, the lust, the pain, the joy, the need, all passed across his face. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her temple. “We’re going to make a hell of a couple tonight, Princess.”

“Yes, we are,” she replied breathlessly.

“Let me finish getting ready. You are distracting.”

Opal giggled. “Pot, kettle.”

She moved away from the door and went back to the bed to struggle into the sky high heels she had thought would be great to wear, but now she regretted the decision to pack them. Her feet were going to ache by the end of the night. But--the minx inside her reminded--that could possibly lead to another massage. This time, just with Henry.

As she finished up the last buckle on the strappy things and stretched her legs out to check how they looked, she noticed Henry watching from across the room with a glazed look in his eyes. She laughed at him, because it was the exact same look she’d had as he secured the waistcoat around his trim torso. “This… me putting on shoes shut you down?”

Henry reanimated with a shrug. “I have a thing for really high strappy, almost slutty, heels. Nothing like…” He stopped and blushed slightly. “Uh, never mind.”

Opal stood up and went over to him, just barely shorter than him now, and grinned. “I will have to remember that for later,” she replied.

“Oh, god, please do. Bonus points for silk stockings and the whole belt contraption,” he murmured.

She giggled. “You know, men and women are so different. You want the littlest piece of clothing on me, but I’d rather see you in a three piece suit.”

“I can fuck in a three piece suit just as well as I can without,” he teased.

His comment, and the harsh word, caught her off guard. Taking the opportunity, he went over to grab his cell phone. He beckoned her with a crooked finger. “Come here.”

She didn’t ask for clarification or even think about it; her feet in their dangerous footwear moved of their volition. When she reached him, he wrapped his arm around her and kissed her head, all while snapping a quick picture. He looked at it, smiled, and turned it around for her to view.

Her cheeks were high with color. Her skin glowed; her eyes sparkled. Her smile showed almost every one of her teeth. Everything about it made her seem so vital, so alive, so… beautiful. She had never seen herself so happy. Simply being near him made her want to beam from ear to ear.

He smiled softly. “Now you see what I see when I look at you.”

“I don’t always look like this,” she protested.

“You do,” he replied. “Let me send this to you so you can send it to Amber.”

Opal shifted uncomfortably. She’d completely forgotten about sending Amber a picture. What kind of friend was she, anyway?

“We can’t bring our phones tonight,” he explained. “Something about making sure nothing unflattering gets out.”

Opal looked up at him and nodded. “Okay. Let me just send Amber a text telling her I’m going out for the night.”

She saved the picture to her phone and opened up the text stream with her friend. She took the picture, sent it, and wrote, “I don’t think I ever expected my Hank to be this real. Going out for the night. Talk to you in the morning.”

She plugged her phone in, stood up, and took Henry’s hand. “Okay. Let’s go.”

~~~

Opal stood in the atrium of the Georgia Aquarium and sighed. She was enchanted. She’d been here a ton of times before at previous cons, but never on a night specifically designed to be an intimate cocktail party with all of the con’s celebrity guests.

What actually was her life right now?

Henry talked to Dany and Dwayne, and she couldn’t get over the fact that she was standing next to The Rock. How many times had she sat next to her brothers while they watched this giant man wrestle? If someone had told her this was going to be her life when she left Los Angeles the night before, she’d have told them they were lying. It was all a little surreal.

Dany smiled at her, obviously picking up on the fact that she had zoned out and had literal stars in her eyes. “So, Opal, what do you do?”

Opal hummed and blinked at her. “Yeah, sorry. I’m a designer and programmer for Blizzard. I have been there, oh gosh, almost ten years now. Best job I have ever had.”

“And you live with?” Dany inquired.

Opal understood Dany’s reticence to accept her into the group. Dany didn’t want anything to harm the business, and even though she seemed tough, she clearly cared deeply for both men as friends. Still, though, Opal didn’t think she gave off a crazy fan vibe.

“My best friend, from like middle school,” Opal said, moving to stand closer to Dany. She leaned in to speak quietly. “I know you’re worried about me using him, I get that, trust me. If I was in your position I would, too. But honestly, Dany, I didn’t even know he was him… until this morning when I arrived. I just thought he was a dorky British guy named Hank. That was it. In the months leading up to this I just got to know his heart and who he is, not Henry Cavill, God’s gift to women. I knew SuperHank, the cleric who runs around healing people, because he is that guy. I got to know the Hank who was shy and loved to cook and gets excited about Warhammer and new fantasy novels. Who tells me constantly that I am worthy and beautiful.”

Dany beamed at her. “That’s just what I wanted to hear.”

“And frankly, you scare me a little bit, so I won’t do anything untoward,” Opal said.

Dany laughed and flexed a bicep. “Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.”

“But seriously, Opal,” she said and grabbed Opal’s hand. “He needs someone he can love with his whole being, and I’ve never seen him happier than when he has spoken to me about you.” She squeezed her hand. “It’s not going to be easy, but I promise to make sure you’re okay and safe, and that you can be with him.”

Opal grinned. “He is pretty special.” She looked beside her, expecting to find him there. “And... gone, apparently.”

Lauren smiled at her. “He and Dwayne went to get some drinks.”

Opal felt her stomach clench. She tried to smile, but before she could muster one, Henry was back by her side. He handed her a flute of champagne. “Here, Princess.”

Opal took the glass from him and didn’t say a word. Her jaw clenched and it took everything in her to stop her hand from shaking.

Henry frowned. “Is that okay? Do you want something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine,” she replied and tried to smile again. Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew it came off as more of a grimace because of the expression Henry returned. He knew something was wrong, but the words to explain it to him failed to form on her tongue.

Not that she really had the chance to say anything, anyway. A loud, booming voice rang out across the atrium, “LITTLE BRUDDA!!!”

Opal spun around and watched in abject horror as two grown men raced towards each other and chest bumped each other like drunken frat boys.

Dwayne shook his head. “Seriously, you two? We’re in public.”

Henry came back and smiled. “Jason, my man, this… is Opal.”

Jason looked at her, his eyebrow raised. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Jason…” He took her free hand and kissed the back of it. “If he gives you any trouble, let me know.”

Opal blushed. “Thank you. I will.”

Dazzled once more by the Man Also Known As Khal Drogo, Henry startled her with a hand on the small of her back. She looked up at him, still holding the flute from which she had not yet had a drop of champagne.

Henry leaned down into her ear. “Do you want me to get something else for you?”

She shook her head. “No, I just, uh… I’m going to get my own drink.”

She excused herself and headed over to the bar, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t running away from him and running away from the conversation she should have already had with him, even before they both decided to meet here in Atlanta.

She wasn’t in line long when she felt his presence behind her.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, concern written all over his face.

“I am, honestly. I just… well… it’s stupid. I don’t drink anything that I don’t see poured myself, and I very rarely drink alcohol in public. I should have told you. It’s just my hang up and, gah... I’m sorry I freaked out a little bit.”

Henry’s eyebrows knit together. He nodded, but he clearly wanted more.

“Let me get my drink and we’ll take a walk and talk, okay?” she asked, hoping to smooth things over.

He nodded and stood quietly with her. Even though he was clearly confused and maybe a little angry, his presence was still one that calmed her and she found herself resting against his sturdy bulk as they waited. Opal ordered her cranberry juice in a martini glass. To anyone other than herself and Henry, it looked like a Cosmo. It was her fallback when she wanted to hang out with the cool kids but didn’t want to do what the cool kids were doing. Because that one time she did what the cool kids were doing? She lived to regret it.

She took his hand and started to walk through the first exhibit. Opal paused at a tube enclosure in the middle of the room full of jellies. A black light shone down into the water, illuminating the sea creatures as they performed a graceful, haunting dance around their tank. She stood quietly, Henry standing next to her, silent, thinking.

Finally, she cleared her throat from the heavy emotion making it difficult to breathe. “I was drugged.”

Henry’s fingers curled into her back. Though he tried to mask the sharp intake of air, his gasp was still audible. “Opal, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” she said, just barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t just that. Amber and I were freshmen in college and I wanted to fit in. We went to a frat party. A guy we had art history with invited us.”

His anger was palpable; it wasn’t anger directed at her, though. Somehow, she knew that, as she stared at the gelatinous orbs bobbing through the water. She took a sip of the cranberry juice before moving on.

“I woke up the next morning, head fuzzy, in a room I had never seen before, and my panties around my ankles.” She braved a look up at Henry, to gauge his reaction. The sharp line of his jaw was set, his rage evident.

For some reason, it was cathartic to share this secret with another human. Amber knew, of course. Amber had nursed her back from the brink after they got home from the hospital.

“It’s the reason I pull away sometimes when you touch me, and the reason I am so unsure of myself. I’m sorry I never told you before, but you have a right to know.”

Henry didn’t speak; he looked at a point beyond her, staring in stony silence for the longest time. He finally tore his focus away from that point and gazed down at her. His face spoke volumes, even before his words did. He rested his chin on her head and wrapped her in his arms. “You know I would never, ever do that.”

“Oh, no, I do! I just… I want so badly for you to touch me, to be yours, I just need… time,” she said. “I don’t even know if I’m actually a virgin or not. I don’t know what they did to me. The next morning, Amber took me to the ER and a rape kit was done, but it was inconclusive. I’m sorry if this changes the way you feel about being with me.”

Henry pulled away from her and put his drink on the floor. He took her face gently in his hands. “I never, ever would feel any different about you. I just… I understand now.” He kissed her forehead, but didn’t move his lips from the spot they’d touched. His next words were muffled, but the meaning behind them was everything. “My promise to you is that I will not hurt you, and it’s all going to be at your pace.”

She smiled and pushed his hands away from her face. With her free hand, she reached up and let her hand rest on the nape of his neck. “Well, then, we can do this, cause I’m very ready for it.”

With little strength, she pulled him down to her and kissed him. It wasn’t passionate or chaste; it was somewhere in the middle. A reassurance. A promise. Her promise to be as open with him as possible. His cue that she was okay with him pushing her boundaries. And she loved him for it.

#Henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill fan fic #dgd #digital get down #tw:mentions of assault

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 3 years

Text

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

The Appointing of the Twelve Apostles (Mark 3:7-19)

"Then the Pharisees went out and began to plot with the Herodians how they might kill Jesus. Jesus withdrew with His disciples to the lake, and a large crowd from Galilee followed." - Mark 3:6-7

We can hardly realize how wide the influence of Jesus was at this time. The multitude that followed Him, came not only from Galilee - but also from Judea, from beyond the Jordan, and even from the Gentile cities of Tyre and Sidon, and the countries surrounding them. The throng was so great, that Jesus and His disciples withdrew to the sea. He wished to do His work without interruption. Thus we have our Lord's example for sometimes withdrawing from opposition. It was not lack of courage that led Him to do this. He knew that he conspiracy of His enemies would in the end be successful, yet He would not throw His life away. Nothing could be gained by His staying in their midst at this time. There was no testimony to be borne. Besides, His work was not yet finished. When, at last, His work was all done, the plots had all ripened, and He knew that the rulers were about to kill Him - He did not withdraw, nor did He show any fear or lack of bravery.

There are times when duty requires us to flee from danger and thus save our lives for further service. We are certainly never to court danger, nor to be reckless in our courage. On another occasion Jesus said to His disciples, "When they persecute you in this city - flee into the next." Christian prudence is an important element in Christian courage. It often requires a higher courage to avoid danger - than to rush into it; to flee away from angry enemies - than to answer back and incite them to further wrath.

The great report of our Lord's works of mercy and kindness, went out everywhere, and multitudes were drawn to Him. One who does good to others - will always have followers. The world is full of sorrow and suffering, and hearts hunger for sympathy. When one who has a gentle spirit and a hand whose touch gives blessing comes among men - people welcome him. Love always finds its mission. We are apt to criticize the motive in such following. "For the loaves and fish!" we say. But people know a friend when he comes among them; and when one suffers and has been helped - it is no wonder that other like sufferers come with their needs. Jesus loved the people - that was His secret! He loved them - and they knew it. People always know when a man truly and sincerely loves them.

The kindness of Jesus was not discouraged by the ingratitude and enmity of men. Though the evil plots of His enemies drove Him out of the city - they did not stop His doing good. Though some rejected His love - His heart was not closed. Capernaum lost much - when He went out of its gates; but on the throngs which followed Him - the gracious blessings fell. Persecution scatters the seed which it means to destroy. When the first Christians were driven from Jerusalem, it was only to carry the gospel into all the countries round about to which they fled. They "went about, preaching" (Matthew 4:23). Opposition must never silence the lips that carry the words of life. If one rejects and scorns you - take your gospel message to another. You will always find some ready to receive the blessing you have to give. Especially are the people, who have "plagues," who are in any misfortune or distress - ready to press upon him who comes to them with a heart of love and with desire to do them good.

The people pressed up close to Him, that they might touch Him. A touch was enough. All who touched Him - were made whole. Life flowed from Him - to them. Health went from His rich, wholesome life - and expelled their sickness. So a touch is always enough. Anyone who really touches Christ is healed. But we must be sure to touch Him. It is not enough to be in the crowd that gathers around Him. Only those are healed - who touch Him by faith. It is not enough to be in the congregation that worships. One sitting or bowing next to us may receive a great blessing, while we receive none at all. It is because he reaches out his hand of faith and touches Christ; while we, physically as close to Christ as he is - do not put out our hand to touch Him; and therefore, receive no blessing.

We ought, as Christ's disciples, to be so full of life and love - that anyone who touches us, shall get a blessing from us. Just to have their handshake is a blessing. Their mere presence in a sick room gives comfort. It is worth while to be such a person. Do you want to know the secret ? It is LOVE. Love people really, truly, genuinely - and there will flow from you always, to every life that touches yours - an influence of healing.

Jesus stood in the throng and called certain men to come to Him. He singled out the people and called them individually. That is the way He is doing continually - standing and calling men to come to Him. He does not call a crowd - He calls people by name, calls them one by one. Everyone who hears His voice should answer - leave the world's company, step boldly out, cross over the line, and take his place by the side of Jesus!

There are several things to be said about the way these men responded to Christ's call to discipleship.

They responded freely. Although He had chosen them out of a whole nation, and called them, there was no compulsion laid upon them to go with Him. They could have refused if they had chosen; Christ never chooses His disciples by force .

Then, they responded promptly. There was no hesitation. They said nothing about considering the matter for awhile. They did not talk about being unfit or unworthy; they did not tell Him that they were afraid they could not keep their word if they promised to be Christians. They did not say, "Tomorrow we will go." The moment they heard their names called - they answered.

Then, they responded resolutely. Whenever they heard the call - they stepped out with firm tread, and, crossing over the space between the crowd and the Master, they joined themselves to Him. It was not done secretly. They did not wait until they were alone with Him, and then tell Him quietly and timidly that they had made up their minds to accept His invitation. They did not propose to be His disciples - and yet stay among their old friends and keep on at the old business. They immediately separated themselves from the people about them, and went over to Him, putting themselves absolutely into His hands, to be His and do His bidding - so long as they lived.

This is the way these men started in their apostleship - and the way everyone should start whom Jesus calls to be His disciple .

He chose the Twelve - that they might be with Him. That is the first thing always - before preaching or teaching or working for Christ. We must be disciples ourselves, before He will use us to make disciples of others, or to carry His messages and blessings to others. He employs none as His servants - who are not His followers. One reason why we must first be with Him - is that we may be taught by Him. The apostles learned from their Master - the things they themselves afterward taught to others. We cannot do any good work for Christ - until He teaches us how to do it.

He teaches us by His Word, by His Spirit, through the impact of His own life, through our experiences. This is one reason we should study the Bible so carefully, that we may be able to teach others by our example and by our words - only the things Jesus would have us teach them. Another reason why we need to be with Him before we go out to testify for Him - is that we may be actual witnesses for Him. We never can impress the world by giving second - hand information about Christ, by repeating things we have heard others say, or have read in books, about Him. We must be able to tell what we have seen and learned for ourselves, from personal fellowship with Him.

These men were chosen not merely to official office - but for service, "to preach, and to have authority to heal sicknesses." This authority to heal, was given to validate their commission. When Moses went to the people and to Pharaoh as God's messenger, and when they demanded evidence that God had sent him - then he was to work certain miraculous signs in their presence, to prove his claim. So the apostles had power given to them to perform works of wonder - as their credentials.

Besides, those works of mercy which they wrought were examples of what the gospel should do wherever it goes. We say there are no miracles now. Is this true? Are no sick people healed now? Are no evil spirits cast out? Are no blind eyes opened, no deaf ears unstopped, no lame made to walk, no dead raised? If miracles are not produced in the physical realm, they surely are in the spiritual. Eyes are opened to see God and heavenly things. Ears are opened to hear the voice of the Spirit. Fevers of passion are cured. Sicknesses of soul are healed. The evil spirits of greed, lust, and selfishness are cast out. These are the validations of all teaching and preaching. Power is given yet to Christ's ministers and to all His disciples - power to heal the sick and cast out demons!

One of the men chosen was known as Simon - but Jesus gave him a surname of Peter. These two names are suggestive. "Simon" shows the crude fisherman of Galilee, with all his rashness, his ignorance, his imperfection. "Peter" shows the apostle of the Acts and the Epistles; the rock firm and secure; the man of great power, before whose Spirit-filled eloquence, thousands of proud hearts bowed, swayed like the trees of the forest before the tempest; the gentle, tender soul whose words fall like a blessing; the noble martyr witnessing to the death for his Lord. Study the two names together - to see what grace can do for a man.

It is not hard to take roses, lilies, fuchsias, and all the rarest flowers, and with them make forms of exquisite beauty; but to take weeds, dead grasses, dried leaves trampled and torn, and faded flowers - and make lovely things out of such materials, is the most severe test of skill. It would not be hard to take an angel and train him into a glorious messenger; but to take such a man as Simon, or Saul, or as John Newton, or as John Bunyan - and make out of him a holy saint and a mighty apostle - that is the test of power. Yet that is what Christ did, and has been doing ever since. He takes the poorest stuff, despised and worthless, outcast of men oftentimes; and when He has finished His gracious work - we behold a saint whiter than snow.

The sculptor saw an angel in the rough, blackened stone which was rejected and thrown away; and when men beheld the stone again, behold - there was the angel, cut from the block! In one of the English cathedrals is a window, the admiration of all beholders, made by a workman, from the bits of glass thrown away by the master. So heaven is filling with glorified souls, gathered from the despised and rejected of earth. We should never be discouraged by our unworthiness, or our many faults. Christ can take us as we are, and in His hands - our life shall grow into purity and loveliness until He presents us at last before His eternal throne - faultless and perfect. There is only one thing that needs to concern us - we must make sure that we are in Christ's school, that we really put ourselves into His hands.

#Devotional Hours Within the Bible #J.R. Miller #The Appointing of the Twelve Apostles #Mark 3:7-19 #June 4 #2021

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didanawisgi · 3 years

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Note that views expressed in this opinion article are the writer’s personal views and not necessarily those of TrialSite

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I recently learned that these vaccines have likely killed over 25,800 Americans (which I confirmed 3 different ways) and disabled at least 1,000,000 more. And we’re only halfway to the finish line. We need to PAUSE these vaccines NOW before more people are killed.

The CDC, FDA, and NIH aren’t disclosing how many people have been killed or disabled from the COVID vaccines. The mainstream media isn’t asking any questions; they are playing along. YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, and others are all censoring content that goes against the “perfectly safe” narrative so nobody is the wiser. Tony Fauci, the “father of COVID,” is still in his job even though all of this is his fault. Cliff Lane, who reports to Tony, is still sandbagging early treatments so that people will falsely believe that the vaccine is the only option. The Democrats are still asleep at the wheel by refusing to request Fauci’s unredacted emails from the NIH which will prove he covered up the fact he created the virus in the first place. Biden is clueless urging Americans to vaccinate their kids with a deadly vaccine that has likely killed more than 25,000 Americans so far. Academics in the medical community are nearly all clueless, urging people to get the safe and effective vaccine. When I tried to bring this to the attention of leading academics they told me I was wrong and not to contact them ever again. Sound too hard to believe? I don’t blame you. But there is a reason that this article is the most popular article that has ever been on TrialSiteNews with over 1M views so far. It’s because everything I’ve said is true. And nobody will debate me live about it. They all refuse.

Based on what I now know about the miniscule vaccine benefits (less than a .5% reduction in absolute risk), side effects (including death), current COVID rates, and the success rate of early treatment protocols, the answer I would give today to anyone asking me for advice as to whether to take any of the current vaccines would be, “Just say NO.”Waiting for Novavax (and other traditional vaccines) is a much safer option. If you get COVID in the meantime, treating with early treatment protocols that incorporate fluvoxamine and ivermectin is vastly superior to getting the most dangerous vaccine in the last 30 years.

Vaccines are particularly contraindicated if you have already been infected with COVID or are under age 20. For these people, I would say “NO! NO! NO!”

In this article, I will explain what I have learned since I was vaccinated that totally changed my mind. You will learn how these vaccines work and the shortcuts that led to the mistakes that were made. You will understand why there are so many side effects and why these are so varied and why they usually happen within 30 days of vaccination. You will understand why kids are having heart issues (for which there is no treatment), and temporarily losing their sight, and ability to talk. You will understand why as many as 3% may be severely disabled by the vaccine. You will understand why doctors aren’t reporting these as vaccine-related.

What I find deeply disturbing is the lack of transparency on how dangerous the current COVID vaccines are. Healthy people could end up dead or permanently disabled at a rate that is “off the charts” compared with any other vaccine in our history. Look at the death report in our government’s official Vaccine Adverse Event Reporting System (VAERS) summarized in the tweet below. This is the most deadly vaccine we’ve ever made by a long shot. That’s why they have to give you incentives to get vaccinated. They need to vaccinate everyone BEFORE people read this article or watch this video of Dr. Peter McCullough explaining clearly why the current COVID vaccines are unsafe and completely unnecessary for our children.

The stopping condition of a typical vaccine is 25-50 deaths. But there isn’t a stopping condition for this vaccine! It appears we’ve killed over 25,800 people (based on CDC “unexplained deaths”) and nobody is batting an eye. The CDC is focused on how to vaccinate more people. Clinics today report as high as a 10:1 ratio of vaccine-related cases to COVID cases. So now we have a new health emergency: deaths and disability from the vaccines.

But this is just the beginning of our story. We have a lot of ground to cover. I’ll talk about Fauci, NIAID, CDC, Congress, academia, Cliff Lane, and more. I will close with action items you can take and how to treat vaccine victims.

Before we jump into the details, here are some key points:

At least 25,000 deaths from the vaccine. The OpenVAERS team think it is over 20,000 due to under reporting. But we looked at the CMS database and it appears VAERS is under-reporting by 5X. And the CDC excess unexplained deaths are 25,000 as well. It matches up.

NOBODY will debate me. People resort to personal attacks because they can’t attack the facts. But nobody who counts (e.g., over 10K Twitter followers) will debate me. I’ve tried everything. People are too afraid I’ll win. If you have at least 10K Twitter followers and agree to a recorded live Zoom debate, just say so in the comments below.

Biodistribution data shows massive accumulation in ovaries of the LNP (which instructs cells in ovaries to sprout toxic spike protein). Whoops. That was never supposed to be leaked out. We obtained it via FOIA request. The CDC never told you about that one, did they? Of course not!

82% miscarriage rate in first 20 weeks (10% is the normal rate). It is baffling that the CDC says the vaccine is safe for pregnant women when it is so clear that this is not the case. For example, one of our family friends is a victim of this. She miscarried at 25 weeks and is having a D&C on 6/9/21. She had her first shot 7 weeks ago, and her second shot 4 weeks ago. The baby had severe bleeding of the brain and other disfigurements. Her gynecologist had never seen anything like that before in her life. They called in a specialist who said it was probably a genetic defect (because everyone buys into the narrative that the vaccine is safe it is always ruled out as a possible cause). No VAERS report. No CDC report. Yet the doctors I’ve talked to say that it is over 99% certain it was the vaccine. The family doesn’t want an autopsy for fear that their daughter will find out it was the vaccine. This is a perfect example of how these horrible side effects just never get reported anywhere.

25X the possibility of myocarditis for teen boys (can lead to heart failure and death)

Kids already have natural immunity (Science Magazine article), so there is no benefit to vaccination, only risk. Have you ever seen the risk / benefit analysis by the CDC?? Ask for it before you consent.

No point vaccinating those who’ve had COVID-19: Findings of Cleveland Clinic study. No benefit, only risk.

Doctors who attribute adverse events to the vaccine are punished (such as Dr. Hoffe). So under reporting is incentivized.

The CDC refuses to say how many people have died and is “still investigating” heart damage in kids even though it is obvious why (free spike protein causing clotting and inflammation). A 25X increase when the only “new” thing is the vaccine isn’t hard to figure out. Ask the CDC for their current top 5 hypotheses for the cause. It will be more than amusing to see what they say. If it isn’t the vaccine, heads should roll.

The CDC is deliberately misleading the American people. Check out the side effects page. Death, disability, excessive miscarriage rates, heart attacks, stroke, inability to walk, talk, or see, Bell’s Palsy, persistent pain, Parkinson’s like symptoms, re-activation of shingles, blood clots, etc. are all missing.

>500X more deadly than the flu vaccine

COVID vaccines have generated more adverse reports in the last 6 months than all 70 vaccines over the past 30 years combined. They missed that one.

Defective virus design (s1 was never supposed to be free, inclusion of PEG was unnecessary and allows LNP to be widely distributed)

Strong opposition to vaccination by extremely credible voices like Malone, Geert Vanden Bossche, others

NIAID (Cliff Lane) is improperly manipulating the COVID Treatment Guidelines to make it appear these drugs do not work, thus giving the world the false impression that the vaccine, even if imperfect, is the only way out. Ivermectin and fluvoxamine have been confirmed in Phase 3 trials. Ivermectin has a very high quality systematic review, the highest possible level in Evidence Based Medicine. Repurposed drugs are safer and more effective than the current vaccines. In general, early treatment with an effective protocols reduce your risk of dying by more than 100X so instead of 600,000 deaths, we’d have fewer than 6,000 deaths. NOTE: The vaccine has already killed over 6,000 people and that’s from the vaccine alone (and doesn’t count any breakthrough deaths).

Vaccines skipped proper toxicology studies in order to bring to market faster. We don’t know what we don’t know.

The unpredictable and horrifying side effects of this vaccine on heathy kids, such as the 16 year old girl who was unable to speak and see just 48 hours after being vaccinated

Debilitating side effects can happen at any time because vaccine victims are very similar to COVID long haulers (Dr. Bruce Patterson has discovered this) and we all know that long haul can start at any time (even when the disease is asymptomatic) and could be incurable.

Because the vaccine is not perfectly safe, the government is required by law to warn people of the death and disability risks caused by the vaccine and to obtain informed consent. Always be sure to ask for the 50 most serious side effects and how often they happen. And find out whether they will compensate you if you are disabled for life from the vaccine. This is important because the blood clots can form anywhere with this very unsafe vaccine....

#covid-19 vaccine #covid-19 #Steve Kirsch

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