#“You're a wonderful‚ very strong‚ and intelligent person” HOW DO YOU EVEN REPLY TO THAT.

[kyouka-supremacy]

--

[rcksmith]

Desire — Kaz Brekker

(Photo not mine)

Requests: “Hello there! I've been around this blog for a bit now and you are an amazing writer! I was wondering if you would be ok with doing something with 21 28 & 29 from the smut prompts and kaz brekker? If you are uncomfortable please just ignore this!”

“Kaz brekker Smut prompts 28 66?? Love you💖!!”

“I can request Kaz smut prompts 29?❤️”

Smut prompts:

21. “Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

66. “You know I don’t like to be teased.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of shot, mention of desire, desire, mention of smut, explicit smut, NSFW.

Word count: 3k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — —

There was something about you. Something impossible to decipher, with a glow hovering around you like a electrical energy. Wrapping your whole body in a cloak of magnetism. There was something about the way you spoke, walked, laugh. Something about what it was like to be you, in your beauty and mysteries like a sphinx.

Something that made Kaz Brekker completely furious.

You couldn't be more distorted from the image, in Kaz's mind, than what was to be a peaceful woman. Calm, controled, with steel emotions and wit in eyes. Someone who, like him, knew how to dance the waltz of negotiation, manipulation, who could blend in with the shadows and know the best time to listen more than speak.

You were not like Inej, you were not like Jesper. Hell, you were like nobody Kaz has known in all of his 28 years.

Nothing reminiscent of calm and control would be used to describe what it meant to be you.

Your soul are stormy, loud, obstinate, too stubborn and too talkative. You needed to speak loudly, laugh, move, expose your opinions to the seven winds and to whoever listened the most. You needed to question, inquire, doubt and test the limits of any situation. A direct order for you would be an affront to your free and independent spirit. A command that would curtail your freedom or tame your strong genius was almost like an invitation for you to do exactly the opposite of what they had ordered you to do.

So, for a man of trained reasoning, subtly balanced world, and who was used to his every command being followed vehemently and promptly in blind obedience, such a personality like you was like introducing a disturbing factor capable of shaking all his judgments. Sand in a watch, or stone in a shoe, would be no more a nuisance than a strong nature like your.

The extraordinary stubbornness and mania to counter his orders - when, in your words, they were unreasonable - had made you different from all the women Brekker had ever met. Kaz liked challenges and responsibilities, a good puzzle, but you were on a level far beyond that.

You were a danger to his peace of mind. And you knew that. All his aversion to your indomitable spirit only served as fuel for your own mission in to piss him off. Few men were like Kaz Brekker, you knew that, with a strength of character too powerful to be ignored. He was not just comfortable in his position of authority as he was obviously unable to act in any other way than as a leader. His stoic figure and always so contained in a wall of indifference made you want to ruffle his hair to see if you could remove any emotion. And being a girl who hasn't always liked leaders, Kaz Brekker was a huge temptation. Few moments had been better than those that you managed to piss him off beyond what he could handle.

However, all the reasons why the two of you were so exasperating for each other, did not explain why the air crackled in ambiguity when your eyes met. The hemisphere was adorned in a thought-provoking, poignant veil, like a warm honey flowing down its throat, and there was something else in the way blood flowed like flames of fire through veins of you two.

Jesper said that the sexual tension between you was so tangible that it could be cut by one of Inej's knives, but you refused to think of Kaz that way. At least until that moment.

Not pure images of what the infamous Brekker could do to you between four walls swept you like the strong Arabian wind. Making you be surprisingly breathless. Kaz was not a man whose private life was exposed, nor was he involved with many women, but you have heard two or three of them when they were drunk saying that Kaz Brekker in the room could be incendiary.

Everyone knew that his touch reserve didn't limit him to anything, but that his job was at the top of the priority list and that sexual encounters were almost never on that list.

"It was not my fault!” Jesper defended himself one night, slightly drunk, sitting at the club's round table next to the other crows “I didn't know he was married to another man! That damn pretty face seduced me!”

"Did he seduce you?" You asked, skeptical and playful.

"I swear to God! And it had been a long time since I had sex with anyone, and I went… ”

“But you did sex last week." Inej laughed, chocked.

"Exactly!" Jesper said, as if he were obvious.

You laughed with your beer glass in your hand, taking another sip.

“Is a week a long time to not sleep with anyone?" Matthias retorted, trying not to laugh.

“Are you going to tell me that is not?” Jesper and Nina spoke at the same time.

“If a man has time for sex more than once a week, he clearly doesn't have much to do. And I'm sure I gave Jesper a lot of tasks that would keep him busy.” Kaz narrowed his eyes at his friend, and Jesper hid his guilt behind the rim of his beer glass, looking to the side.

"So you are saying that you are a very busy man?" You teased, trying not to laugh at the scathing look Kaz sent you.

"I disagree. The values ​​of hard work and discipline cannot match the hot body of a woman in bed.” Matthias said, exchanging a brief conspiratorial look with Nina, who winked at him.

"There are more important things." Said Kaz.

"Like what?" You rested your chin on the back of the hand whose elbow was on the table, the playful look of a rebellious student.

"Progress." Kaz held your gaze.

He wasn't going to take your bait. But you didn't give up easy.

"Tell me, if God gave you a deal: all the hunger in the world would be extinguished in exchange for you never being able to have sex again, what would you choose?" your eyes had a teasing feline glow.

At that moment, Kaz felt a shiver up the back of his neck, like a warm breath of autumn. Something crawled, like a snake, across his rib cage and down to his groin, pumping blood like fire through his veins.

He held your gaze, but the feline glow in your eyes promised to contain the most ardent sins. Suddenly, Kaz's mind was flooded by the wave of obscene images of you, on his bed; moaning, squirming, shouting his name and being very obedient with every order he gave you.

He would make you such a good girl...

"I don't believe in God." He replied succinctly, the predator's eyes still in your eyes audacious feline's.

A big, satisfied smile spread across your face, and you said: "As I thought. Bad luck for hungry people.”

Realizing that he had fallen right into your cunning trap, Kaz got rid of your diabolical magnetism and cursed.

“I didn't say…” he stopped, impatient “It doesn't matter. I have more important things to do than waste time here.”

But the smile you hid behind the glass was noticeable to Kaz.

After that night, the crackling, gasping flame that circled the two of you intensified to alarming levels. Kaz could feel you holding your breath when he was too close, and you could see him squeezing his cane harder when you sweetened your voice for him.

However, regardless of Kaz's wanted to fold you at a table and put an end to your brat girl pose, enjoying the groans he was sure you would let out, the two of you still fought like dog and cat.

Just as it was now.

“What do you mean, I'm not going?!” You looked at Kaz, amazed, when he told you that you would not participate in the robbery that week “I know that security system like the back of my hand!”

It was true, what you had of stubbornness, you had of technological intelligence. There was no computer that you would not hack, a program that you would not hack, and a system that you would not unlock. Your genius with technology made up for all your lack of obedience.

But Kaz ignored. “I've already told you. It's a more dangerous mission than you're used to and we don't have time for the plans you come up with right away.” He needled you.

“Are you referring to Switzerland?” You were never anything short of direct and inquiring. It was logical that you would question every orden. “But I already told you that when the alarm went off your plan didn't work anymore! I was more useful inside to deactivate the alarm than waiting outside.”

And stubborn. Holy God, how stubborn you were!

"And it cost you to get shot."

"But it was just a shot!"

Kaz looked at you, puzzled. “Just?! And wasn't it enough ?! You put the whole team at risk!”

“But if I hadn't deactivated the alarm, we would all be arrested! And only I knew how to do that!”

"My fucking God, isn't there a speck of common sense in you?!"

But you answered boldly: "Not when you impose clueless plans on me."

Mortified would be an understatement to describe how he was now. What an unbearable creature! Kaz felt the anger spread from his neck to his face, igniting his breath and squinting his eyes in annoyance.

Why was it so difficult for you to follow a simple goddamn rule?!

“Besides, your initial plan was flawed and there was no reason for me to be out when it was necessary inside and...” And you kept talking!

If you had noticed Kaz's completely enraged state in front of you, you would have been scared, shut up and ran. But, truth be told, Kaz suspected that even if you knew how to read the murderous humor in his eyes, you wouldn't have left that office. Much less be afraid. You could argue with the demon. And you would probably beat him out of tiredness.

However, regardless of the desire to shake you up, to see if that put any good sense in you, in that second, watching you gesture with your hands, defending your point of view as if it were the england queen's crown, something swept Kaz's body from the top of his head with dark hair to the tips of his illustrated boots.

The sound of the world was drowned out by the flow of blood itself in his veins. His heart hammered hard in his chest and, in that instant, a sharp sting in his groin and the pit of his stomach set him on fire.

His gaze went down to your mouth, which kept moving. And when it came up to your eyes, your stubborn and defiant gaze sent Kaz's rationality into space. He dropped the cane abruptly, which toppled to the floor with a hollow crack, and advanced towards you in firm and determined steps.

Gluing his gloved hands to your face, Kaz silenced all your protests with a strong kiss. Hot, fiery, domineering. The kind of kiss that held years of camouflaged desire, years of irritability, years of an unnerving desire to make you shut up with all the perverse forms that existed.

You weren't afraid of him. But you should. You should if you knew everything he wanted to do with you.

However, as if you have been burning in the same desire for years, you responded to that kiss with the same urgency. The same hunger. Kaz slipped his hands into your hair, closing his fingers there and deepening the kiss with ferocity. He felt beside himself, like a hungry wild animal that had been denied food for years and that only now had its teeth set on its prey. You moaned against his lips, bringing your hands to his lean, strong biceps, squeezing your fingers there.

You both needed air, but neither seemed to give a damn about that. Misted of desire that burned like a fire in their bodies, Kaz pushed the two of you backwards, slamming your back against the wall and swinging a frame beside. You gasped, and the gesture made it possible for Kaz to invade your mouth with his tongue, hunting every piece of hot meat. You two fought the same battle in that kiss: invade, dominate, conquer.

They both wanted to take the waltz, but Kaz would never let you conduct the show.

He pulled your wrists up, pinning them with one hand against the wall, leaving you immobile while sinking his mouth further into yours. Kaz felt you try to get rid of his tight grip, but he was stronger than you. And much more when he have a objective.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He murmured against your mouth, the tip of his tongue playing with your bottom lip. “You know I don’t like to be teased.”

Was impossible for you to control the loud moan that escaped. Your body trembling with desire, your legs wobbly, your wet core vibrating with his words. Kaz Brekker was a fallen angel. With a beauty and charm you've never been immune to.

How can you think you'd win the dominance game with him?

And, like the fallen angel he was, his smug and arrogant smile painted the corner of his lips when he saw what his lines did to you.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” Kaz mocked “If I knew it was only necessary to do this for you to shut up...” he brought his lips closer, his voice hitting yours “I would have fucked you like the naughty brat you have been a long time.”

If his caustic and maddening kisses hadn't been enough to break you in half, that statement would have done all the work.

In that second, you hoisted your white flag, biting your lip in a needy moan and closing your eyes for a second by the overwhelming vibration of your core. God, you needed more. Whatever he gave you. Anything he wanted to give you. You just needed more.

"Are you going to be good?" He played with the dough you were in his hands, his devilish mouth going down your neck, leaving a trail of fire and debris wherever he went.

You agreed, desperately. “Yes, Sir."

That title seemed to do things with Kaz. Because in the next second, his mouth was back on your. More urgent, more needy, more dominating. You shifted your hips for more friction with his, and Kaz rewarded your obedience by pulling one of your thighs forward, making your skirt go up, aligning your thigh on his hips and giving access for his member to fit perfectly against your pulsating core.

You moaned louder this time. Fingers clenching, heart pumping frantically. Kaz pulled his lips away from you for a second, taking his hand off your thigh and bringing it to your mouth.

“Pull.” He ordered, referring to the glove.

You murmured a low, excited moan, bringing your mouth to the glove and clenching your teeth on the cloth at the top of his middle finger. Satisfied, Kaz pulled his hand back, watching the alabaster skin peel away from the leather fabric. As soon as he was free, he removed the glove from your mouth, replacing it with his own and stealing all your breath in that fiery kiss.

His free hand wandered over your thigh, touching you for the first time with a touch that promised to show you all the most delicious and secret sins in the world. His tongue wrapped around your again, and the moan you let out was even greater when his long fingers brushed against your wet, throbbing core.

"S-sir!" You sobbed, your hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more.

"Look at you." His fire voice beat against your lips, the tightness against your wrists getting stronger, more possessive "I’ ve only started using my fingers and you ’re already shaking"

Your body cried out in unbridled desire, sobs mingling with loud moans and heavy sighs as Kaz tormented you with his fingers. He touched you, slid, opened and sank, increasing the volume of your pleas.

“P-please" You begged, the body in need, the urge too urgent.

Kaz looked you in the eye, a dark, malicious gleam burning in his Egyptian blue irises. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" He teased you.

But you no longer cared about his teasing. With your lips swollen and red, your heart racing and the core pulsing in despair on his experienced fingers, you were already surrendered.

"Please. I n-need." You mumbled submissively, rummaging your hips in his hand.

"I bet if I wanted to fuck you against my desk, here and now, you would be very happy to do it, wouldn't you?"

He was foisting all of his dominance on you, bending you to your knees for him. And you knew that. You knew he was taking years of anger out on you. But you couldn't care less. You wanted him. Ardently. Desperately. And if it was a good girl Kaz wanted, damn it, you would be a good girl for him.

You readily agreed, your eyes shining in supplication.

“Good.” Kaz pulled you brutally off the wall, turning you over to the table and pushing your chest against the icy wood, pulling your hips at him. “Because that's exactly what is going to happen.”

Suddenly, desire and hunger roared like a wild beast. Kaz watched you, bent over his desk, obedient, surrendered, offering every inch of your body to him.

His breath was burning in his throat and it was no longer possible to order his thoughts, contain his euphoria. He would fuck you so hard that it would make that memory the only thought when you remembered him. When you dare to rebut his orders.

Kaz pulled you skirt up and your panties down, letting out a groan that sounded more like a growl as he saw your wet core. Pulsing and desperate for him. For anything he wanted to give you. It sparked a fervent desire that Brekker had never felt in his life, devastating any possibility of thinking about anything other than fucking you.

Playing with your fingers in your slick, wet folds, you whimpered again, the core pulsing whenever he teased you inside, pressing his fingertips there but never entering.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" His voice came over the top of your shoulder, hoarse, animalistic, full of profane desires.

"Please." You were quick to beg “I do what you want! But just...please, please… ”

You already felt your eyes watering from over-stimulation, your heart burning so hard it was beating, your core aching from emptiness.

You sealed the end of the game between you. Kaz had won. In a triumphant checkmate.

And you didn't have to beg again. Barely seeing when he unbuttoned his pants, you just reasoned his hard, hot, pulsating member by opening your from the inside. Claiming everything that was yours as his in a strong, desperate, hungry lunge.

"S-sir!" You screamed, your nails scraping the wood from the table, the core pulsing overwhelmingly around his rigid member.

In a more badly lunge, Kaz sank completely into you, moaning loudly as he hit rock bottom. The gloved hand slid over your shoulder, propelled you to him while the bare hand tightened on your waist, hitting you at a steady, raw, animalistic rhythm.

The sounds were pornographic, dirty and loud, echoing off the walls. The air was hot like molten lava, pungent and muffled, driving you two lost breath. Their bodies clashed as if the world was going to end tomorrow, in aggressive, rough thrusts. These were thrusts that made half of his things on the table fall to the floor, mixing in a mess that would serve as a reminder later about the sinful activities you two did.

You screamed when Kaz took on more force, his fingers squeezing you so hard that they would leave you with marks on your shoulder and waist the next day.

"Fucking hell!" Kaz snarled between his teeth, feeling your flesh throb around him, squeezing he with such desperation that he knew you were close.

You sobbed, tears streaming down the corners of your eyes as you pushed your ass towards him, trying to bring him as deep as possible, as deep inside you as possible. But every time his pelvis smashed into your ass, a loud moan and the feeling of being completely full drowned you.

You begged, pleaded, for something you didn't know. But Kaz seemed to know. Taking both hands to your hips, your pace became even more unperturbed, pushing you to the limit until you cum in a scream in his name, your lungs on fire. Kaz came close behind, sinking as deep as possible and pouring all the hot liquid into you. Almost like a brand.

The air was filled with sex, lust and desire, filled only by the sound of their ragged breaths that struggled to stabilize.

You were still panting when Kaz's voice came after you: "Whatever I want, don't I?"

A deal with the devil.

[spicymayo1983]

Hiya. This is chapter 20, the finale to this series. After welcoming your miracle baby girl you have the family that you've always wanted.

Two gorgeous kids, a loving husband, what more could you ask for?

Will this be the happy ending you've always wanted or will fate deal you another cruel blow?

Warnings, angst, smut, squirting, female receiving oral sex, not for anyone under 18.

20+years earlier, Yavin 4

Even as teenagers you had always sensed that there was a deep bond between you and Poe.

It was a unique bond that transcended time. It felt almost mystical. Surreal in a truly beautiful way.

Your parents never tried to discourage your relationship because even they knew, and could see, the tender love that was shared between the two of you.

It was a love that truly only came around once in a lifetime.

Late one night you're tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, when you hear a gentle knock at your bedroom window.

You immediately turn on your bedside lamp, and see the smiling face of your boyfriend.

You jump out of bed and open the window. You grab his arm and pull him inside your room.

"What are you doing here you dork? It's almost 4 in the morning". You tease with a slight laugh as you help him up.

"I sensed that you couldn't sleep, so I brought you these". Poe replied softly with a slight smile as he presented you with a small bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers.

"Oh Poe, that's so sweet". You tell him with a smile as you plant a soft kiss on his lips. "You're truly something else".

"Let's sneak out and go to our favorite spot". Poe whispered into you ear as he kissed your neck. "I want to cuddle you and look at the stars".

You quickly get dressed and the two of you quietly sneak out of your bedroom window.

Once at the spot overlooking the ancient temple the two of you relax on the damp, cool grass.

It seemed like there were a million stars in the sky that night.

You playfully climb on top of Poe and start to kiss him. The two of you roll around a little, making out and playfully wrestling.

Poe finally pinned you down, with a giggle you say,

"Oh no, looks like you win, what do you want the prize to be?"

"You". Poe replied quickly, smiling wickedly and passionately kissing you on the lips.

You unbutton your shirt a little, revealing your bare breasts. The tightness in a particular area of his pants betrays the fact that Poe is more than ready for you.

Poe kissed all the way down to your bellybutton, you removed the belt to your pants and he unzipped them for you, revealing your soaked panties.

With a quick kick your pants are off and on the ground. His head immediately went between your legs and he started to lick your clit through your underwear, making you close your eyes and cuss.

Poe slid three fingers inside of your tight hole as he nibbled on and sucked your swollen clit.

Your underwear quickly came off next.

It must have been a combination of the cool, damp grass against your bare skin and the intense pleasure he was treating your body to but you could feel your legs start to tremble and shake.

Your tightness gripped onto his fingers, gave them a squeeze and then gushed warm fluid all over him.

"Wow". Poe said softly as he gently removed his fingers from inside your body, softly stroking your clit and inner lips with his thumb. "That was really hot".

As your legs continued to tremble Poe began to lick your inner lips, teasing and pulling on them gently with his soft lips.

As you relaxed on the cool grass, nude and looking up at the millions of stars, Poe took his clothes off and climbed on top of you.

Because you were so wet his thick cock slid easily inside of your warmth.

"Poe". You whimper softly, closing your eyes and savoring the pleasurable sensation of your bodies connected together.

"I love you forever". Poe whispered into your ear as he leaned down and gave your neck a playful nibble.

Afterwards, just as he had promised, Poe cuddled with you under the stars.

As he's holding you tight in his strong arms you kiss him and ask,

"How did you know that I couldn't sleep?"

"I don't know". Poe replied with a laugh as he kissed you back. "That's what is so weird about it".

Present day

Whenever you're not doing well your mind wanders off and you recount the delightful memories with Poe.

You were able to return home with your baby girl two days later.

You're sore, and exhausted and weak, unbelievably weak. You can barely muster enough energy to even roll over on your back.

Poe was worried about you, this wasn't normal and he could sense it.

It was almost like you were slowly fading away, keeping your eyes open was a difficult task, it was like your body was finally giving up.

Poe had been taking care of his newborn daughter and now nearly 5 year old son by himself and he was at the end of his rope.

Your friend Esmaria came over to help.

"Poe, how is she doing?" She immediately asked.

"Not very well". Poe explained, with tears in his eyes as he snuggled his infant daughter. "She can barely move or keep her eyes open".

"I'm sure she'll be okay". Esmaria told him as she gave Poe a hug.

"I think we need to get her back to the doctor". Poe explained as he continued to snuggle little Kya, giving her a little kiss on the forehead. "But she's being hard headed and won't go".

"Ugh, typical y/n". Esmaria told him with a deep sigh as she shook her head a little. "I think she's just depressed after having the baby".

Poe pulled up a chair next to your bedside and held your hand in his. The look on his face was a mixture of heartache and worry.

"Are you feeling any better?" Poe asked, leaning down and kissing you softly on the forehead.

"Not really". You reply weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asked again, tears streaming down his face. "Anything to make you more comfortable?"

"Poe, I think this is it". You tell him tearfully. "I think I'm dying".

"No, no, don't say that". He replied back quickly, shaking his head as he kissed your frail hand. "It can't be, it won't be, we can get you back to the doctor".

"I love you Poe". You tell him softly as you struggled to keep your eyes open. "I love our son and daughter too. Take care of them for me".

"Please don't leave us". Poe begged softly as he continued to hold your hand. "We were supposed to grow old together, remember?"

With a weak smile on your face you mouth I love you to your husband one last time as you close your eyes and drift away forever.

Ten years later

"What was mom like? Dad?"

"She looked a lot like you, I guess, with a different hair and eye color".

It was a full decade since you died. Poe was with your now 10 year old daughter in Yavin 4, who looked a lot like you only with her father's hair, skin and eye color.

Kya was 3 days old when you passed away. The older she got the more she would ask questions about her mother.

Poe told her what he could, but it was still extremely difficult to talk about you. He thought about you, his soulmate, constantly, and wondered what you would be like today.

Poe was in his mid 50's now, his once dark hair was mostly gray except for a few stray strands.

He had fully embraced the silver fox look and had aged gracefully. Poe was very distinguished looking.

He was still the leader of the black squadron.

Boe was a handsome, muscular 15 year old who was the direct image of his father. He was also into flying, adventure and getting into a little bit of trouble.

The girls loved him but he didn't have one steady girlfriend yet.

Kya was a beautiful, intelligent 10 year old whose interests included music and writing. She was a quiet introvert.

Esmaria, your best friend, had become Poe's second wife. She was an excellent stepmother and your children loved her.

Poe was visiting your grave with Kya. He was attempting to tell her all about you but it was still difficult for him.

He felt like half of his soul was gone. Poe loved Esmaria yes, but to him it was a different kind of love.

It lacked the passion, depth and intensity that the two of you had shared.

Kya went off by herself, leaving her father alone at your burial site.

"I miss you everyday". Poe confessed tearfully as he leaned down to clean off your headstone. "It still hurts like it was yesterday".

"Thank you for the beautiful kids, they're a pain in the ass sometimes but most of the time they're great". Poe continued, laughing a little. "Kya looks just like you, she's beautiful. Boe looks like me".

He left your family cemetery and headed to your favorite spot that overlooked the rainforest and temple.

Poe relaxed on the cool grass and with tears in his eyes imagined you next to him, cuddling him, kissing him.

When he opened his eyes you were right there, a figment of his imagination perhaps? But it looked so much like you.

Your image was solid, just like a real person. And your skin was soft and warm.

The memories came flooding back. The Summer days spent as teenagers, him consoling you after losing your parents, the day he found out that he was going to be a father.

You looked young, beautiful and healthy. Poe leaned over and kissed you tenderly, and with a huge smile on his face said,

"Y/n, things haven't been the same without you, I think about you every day".

"Poe, I didn't want to leave but I was sick and my body gave out". You explained, smiling a little. "I'm no longer in pain now".

"We were supposed to grow old together but I'm the only one that got old". Poe told you with a slight laugh.

"It isn't fair".

"I have to go now". You told him as you shared a final kiss. "But please tell Esmaria thank you for raising our children".

"I will". Poe told you with a weak smile as he stroked your soft cheek. "Goodbye".

With those final words you are gone again. The tears continued to stream down his face as he realized that you weren't coming back.

"Dad! There you are! We were looking all over for you".

The tranquil calm was interrupted by Boe and Kya, who had been looking for their father all afternoon.

Boe gave his father a huge bear hug, with a slight smile on his face Poe told them,

"I needed some alone time, I hope you kids didn't get into any trouble".

"Nah dad, I was just showing Ky around the temple". Boe replied quickly, smiling a little. "I think we're ready to go now".

Poe hugged his daughter tight, smiled and said,

"Your mother would be so proud of you two".

The end

[marshmallowprotection]

Hi again! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° Hope you're doing well! ^-^ I've seen the new writing challanges and I think they sound very beautiful :) I would like to request a 13 + 16 with good end Saeran if you can, possibily from his perspective? (◕‿◕)♡ Wish you a wonderful day! (*^‿^*)

cafune - the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you loveverklempt - completely and utterly overcome with emotion 

“Hey, Saeran.”

How long had it been since the two of you had been like this? 

A couple of weeks, possibly. 

Mint Eye was behind you, and you were both working so very hard to piece your lives together. Sure, things weren’t perfect. But… it was so much better now, now that you were both on the same level… outside of that horrid place and able to do with your time whatever you wanted to do. Of course, those moments would always come after the work that he had to take care of. 

With C&R’s Intelligence Unit, they had been making some leeway into locating traces of what they needed. But… it had stalled. Things were unfortunately not moving like they were supposed to be moving. That meant long days and long nights of perplexing abandon. 

But you were by his side every step of the way. 

Today was no different. You had stayed with him until the both of you had arrived back to the bunker, kissing his lips briefly before heading to take a shower, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

Which… wasn’t as bad as it used to be. 

But he counted the moments always until you returned to him.

When Saeran saw you enter a room, he was completely enraptured by your person, utterly and completely overtaken with an outpouring of emotions that he couldn’t control. It was like his heart was a dam and the floodgates had been broken by a solidarity crack that you had created against his heart just by smiling at him, once. He would be forever entrapped by this strong feeling in his chest but this time, he wasn’t pushing that feeling underneath anything. 

Quite the contrary, he was letting those feelings take him where ever they wanted to go. Everyone around the two of you could tell that you were both hopelessly devoted to one another, even though Saeran was quiet about how he displayed his feelings, the smallest gestured seemed to make everyone in the room advert their eyes to give you two privacy for just a moment. 

Saeran’ didn’t mind that. 

When he was worried, or overwhelmed with the work that you all were doing to locate his brother, those sparing moments meant everything to him. The way your rosy cheeks flared up when he took hold of your hand… make feel so gracious and indebted to your heart. 

“…Saeran?” You repeated yourself, a little louder this time, and Saeran blinked, looking at you through his stupor. He cocked his head, and asked. “Huh? Oh, were you saying something?”

“You’ve been staring at me like for a few minutes like you’re in a trance, is something wrong?” Your lips were curled in a concerned frown, as you leaned forward to press your hand against his cheek. “Are you tired? You have been awake since pretty earlier this morning.”

Saeran smiles back at you, you’re always so very quick to make sure that he’s alright. Some might consider that a little much, but every time you reach out to him, it makes him feel alive. 

“…No, actually the opposite. Everything feels like it’s just right.” He said. 

“Oh,” you murmured, surprise evident in your voice as you stared back at him with those perfect eyes. You let go of his face and plopped down beside on the couch. ”Well, I’m happy to hear that, Saeran. I guess I was just worried. It’s… been a long day.”

“It’s been a long day for you as well,” Saeran returned. He gently wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close. You leaned back into his touch and settled in his grasp. “You’ve gone out of your way to make me feel alright, but you should really think about yourself sometimes.” 

You let out a soft laugh. “I know. You get worried about me too. Just being with you is enough to recharge my energy, Saeran. I don’t think I need much more else to feel good.” 

“…I could say the same.” His fingers curled themselves into the locks of your hair, racking gently through the soft texture as he did. “It is a bit selfish of me… but I could stay this way with you forever.” 

“I guess I’m a little selfish in that case. I wouldn’t mind that, either.” You replied, softly. 

“Then, we’ll stay like this for a little longer.” He chuckled. Saeran was by no means complaining with that suggestion. It was nice to be with you, and it was nice to know that he wasn’t alone anymore. He was happy, happier then he had ever been in his entire life. He would always have to close-by and that meant the future was really looking up for the both of you. Hopefully… Saeyoung would be included in that future as well. 

“I love you, Saeran.” 

“I love you too.” 

[afjakwritesarchive]

Some Iideku with #12 from the prompt list "You're a genius with facts, but you're really stupid around people" if you don't mind ❤🍑

Title: Third Time’s the CharmFandom: BNHAPairing: IidekuWords: 1151Genre: Romance/FluffPrompt: “You’re a genius with facts, but you’re really stupid around people.”  A/N: akdhdskajakaaa i love these two so much oh my go d,,,,,, tysm for this request! 

Iida was exasperated. He’d known Midoriya for close to two years now and he knew his friend could be rather oblivious at times–but this? This was simply absurd.

His first attempt had been a simple, muttered confession of affection; “M-Midoriya, I like you.” He’d said it with his head bowed, his cheeks flushed scarlet and his hands twitching at his sides. Midoriya had blinked his big green eyes up at Iida, his head bent curiously. Then, he’d brightened and replied, “Well, I’d hope so–I think people usually have to like each other to be friends! Thank you, though. I like you too, Iida!” 

Iida had been more than a little frustrated by the misunderstanding, but he knew Midoriya could be rather dense when it came to matters of the heart. Thus, he’d resolved to make his feelings more obvious the next time. The following week he went to Midoriya’s dorm after class with a heart-shaped cake from a bakery not far from campus. Midoriya had opened the door and Iida had sheepishly handed the treat over, exclaiming “th-this is for you, from me!” with his eyes downcast once again. Like the last time, Midoriya had blinked curiously. Then, he’d opened the pink box and gazed down at the cake inside, a happy smile coming to his face. 

“Wow, thanks, Iida! What’s the occasion?” He asked, beaming brightly up at his friend. 

“I-I’d like you to know how special you are to me!” Iida exclaimed, nervously pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he awaited Midoriya’s response. 

The shorter boy went a bit pink in the cheeks as well. “Y-You’re special to me too!” Iida’s heart rate had picked up at Midoriya’s words, only to fall immediately at what they were followed by. “It’s so incredible to have such amazing friends! Do you want to share this?” He’d asked sweetly. 

Thus, Iida had left just as defeated as before. He’d vented his frustrations in regards to his two failed love confessions to Uraraka, who had been aware of his crush on Midoriya for even longer than he had. As usual, she had been a fantastic voice of reason; “you have to be straightforward. Just come out and tell him, and don’t stop until he gets it. He’ll never understand if you give him any room to doubt your intentions. This time go big, and make it obvious!” 

Despite feeling incredibly embarrassed, Iida had decided to take his best friend’s advice; Uraraka was rarely wrong when it came to matters of the heart. She was something of a matchmaker at Yuuei, having helped several couples get together among their class and having wooed her own girlfriend, Tsuyu, expertly at the beginning of their second year. 

So, Iida had gone to Midoriya’s dorm that Saturday dressed in what he hoped could be considered as “classy casual;” a navy blue polo shirt tucked into a pair of perfectly ironed khaki slacks. He hadn’t wanted to look too stuffy, but he hadn’t wanted to look like a slob either. He was carrying a box of chocolates in the shape of a heart, along with a stuffed All Might plush and a bouquet of flowers. When Midoriya opened the door and caught sight of the all-too obvious gifts, he blinked rapidly and looked up into Iida’s face with an expression so full of wonder and curiosity that Iida nearly fainted on the spot, shaken as he was by Midoriya’s incredible beauty.

“Midoriya, I-I’m tired of being misunderstood,” he said, taking a deep breath in. “I like you.”

Midoriya glanced down to the gifts in his hand, then back up into Iida’s face, cheeks flushed red. “Iida–this is very nice, but I don’t understand. Is something wrong? Should I be getting gifts for you too? I like you too, but th-this is–”

“I don’t like you as a friend!” Iida interrupted, exasperated, and regretted it immediately when Midoriya’s face fell, shock and hurt etched into his features.

“W-What? Then why–”

“Midoriya, you are a genius with facts, but you’re really stupid around people!” Iida cried. “I like like you! I-I want–I want to take you on a date!” 

For a moment, Midoriya was silent in front of him, shock etched into every line of his handsome face. Iida waited impatiently for his friend to absorb the information, running through a list of Midoriya’s possible reactions in order of probability as he did so.

Then, a sheepish smile came to Midoriya’s face and he went cherry red in a way that made his freckles practically glow. “R-Really?” He asked, his voice surprisingly shaky and weak as he gazed up at Iida from underneath thick eyelashes. 

Iida nearly combusted on the spot. Midoriya was frustratingly dense at times, but no matter how crazy he was driven by his friend’s obliviousness, Iida was certain that the expression on Midoriya’s face in that moment more than made up for the exasperation he’d felt over the past few weeks.

“Yes! I-If you accept, I’d like to treat you to dinner this evening,” Iida said, heart pounding madly in his chest. 

Midoriya reached out, scarred hands gingerly plucking the variety of gifts from Iida’s strong hands. To the taller boy’s horror, Midoriya turned on his heel and retreated into his dorm with the presents, disappearing from sight for a moment. In the next he returned with a small blue card in his hand, sheepishly holding it out to his friend. Iida accepted the card curiously, opening it up and blinking at the sight of Midoriya’s familiar script written within. To his surprise, the card was addressed to him and read: 

Iida –I like you a lot, and I have for a long time. I know this might come as a shock and I understand no matter what you say, but I have to ask: do you want to go out sometime? Midoriya

“S-Sorry I was too scared to do it in person like you…” Midoriya said, turning his flushed face away out of embarrassment. 

Iida gulped, swallowing the emotion that seemed desperate to burst out of him. “Nonsense! Th-this is a very effective and sentimental way to confess, and I appreciate it! And I will, of course, go out with you!”

Midoriya beamed, moving forward to take Iida’s hands in his with a sunny smile. “Good! I was so worried you’d say no, I-I’ve been holding onto that card for weeks!” He exclaimed with a giddy laugh, squeezing Iida’s hands as he spoke. 

The combination of Midoriya’s blinding smile and warm touch was more than enough to decimate any part of Iida’s brain capable of intelligent thought. Impossibly flustered and incredibly happy, the most he could manage was a goofy smile as he gazed, lovestruck, at Midoriya. He knew he looked like an idiot, but he couldn’t bring himself to care–not when he was holding hands with the sun itself. 

[ashe-cat]

Thunderstorms Ch. Prequel

Tempest

So here it is, the first chapter to my first fanfic. I’m no writer so if anyone has any advice for me I’ll gladly take it! If youre a Dragon age fan you probably be able to understand whats being said!  You can also read it here on AO3. 

Also shout to friend @karumasa for helping me when she could, and also shout my favorite orc writers, @morphinetune @dust-bun @seventyfiveapples and @bonnietakesnosh-t . After writing this chapter I have stronger appreciation for what you guys do as writer, writing isn’t as easy as it seems!

  It has always amazed me how quickly a person's life can change; almost like a thunderstorm. It starts off small, but then slowly builds into a crescendo of powerful emotions.  Building upon every life changing event, till finally reaching one's pinnacle of serenity and understanding.

My great grandmother once told me that thunderstorms brought our family luck. She said with storms, they brought rains that could wash away all of our sadness, our pain, and all our troubles. They were our sign of clarity and rebirth.

My rebirth….

……………………………………………………

…………………….

………

…

Rain is believed to have a calming effect on people; from the spine tingling sensation when it hits the body just right, to the way it's soft thrum lulls the spirit. Sadly it seemed that the downpour outside of the car could not even begin to quell the storm of emotions brewing in a young mother heart. Her heart felt more cold and dreary than the starless night that she and her companion were driving through. The only thing that gave her solace and anchored her to reality was the shallow breathing of a child. Her child. She often found herself staring and holding her own breath, every time there pause between breaths she couldn't the sinking feeling in her gut

wondering “will this be my child last breath!?”.

“She's going to be alright Aminata, she's stable now.” As if a spell had been lifted, Aminata instantly turned to whom the deep velvety voice belonged to.

“I'm worried for you, love. You both have a long journey head and you haven't slept since we started.”

Offering him a small smile she finally turned back to face the window “I can't… I keep have this feeling she won't make it through night. Are sure she's alright Fenrir?”

As if to calm even his rising doubt, he briefly viewed the child's condition through the rear mirror.

“I'm sure, and the crystal will ensure she's stable until we reached the checkpoint. Once we reached the house I'll finish the healing process.  He replied, taking hold of her and giving a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Until then rest my love, we only have an hour left”

Letting out a soft whimper Aminata slowly allowed herself to succumb to exhaustion.

………………………………………………………..

…………………..

…….

Aminata wasn't sure what woke her first, it was either the SUV coming to a stop or the labored breathing coming from the back seat. Whatever it was she knew without a doubt something wasn't right.

“Fenrir!!”

“Shhh… It's okay Ami, we're here.” Fenrir quickly replied, trying to calm her by taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Grab your things, I'll grab da'len and bring her to the house.”

Before she was completely out of his reach, Fenrir pulled her into a quick embrace.

“I know this is happening all too quickly and I can only imagine how frighten you must be but… Var lath vir suledin… I promise.”

Moved beyond words all Aminata could do was tighten her embrace on him. Letting him go, she gathered her things and headed towards the house. After watching her leave Fenrir finally made his way to the SUV’s back passenger door, opening the door it was clear to him that the child inside was deteriorating fast. Time was of the essence and he needed to move the child to house now in order to treat her. With the utmost care he carefully gathered the child in his arms and began heading towards to the house.

For being only a short distance from the vehicle to the house, time itself seem to stretch on for eternity. They had been traveling for a better part of a week, and all along the way they were met with some setbacks. Even with all of those setbacks none of them felt as difficult as this short walk.

All Fenrir wanted to do was breath a sigh of relief that the journey was over, but that was then furthest thing from the truth. So many emotions filtered through his mind, the prominent being guilt and dread.

The sense of trepidation within him was so strong, that Fenrir swore one could hear the thundering of his heart. He was so overwhelmed with all possibilities the next few hours had in store for him.. and his da'len.

His poor, sweet da'len. She was just shy of her fifth birthday, she was already shaping to be a beautiful and intelligent woman. Looking at her now though, one could only see a mere husk of her former self.It made Fenrir's heart ache to witness her in this state. Skin that once a rich and warm as fresh coffee with cream, was now more of a ashen gray with black splotches scattered about, and those beautiful. Eyes that once held color that could rival any dusk sunset; now looking upon them was like looking at the reflection of the dark grey void of despair locked within his heart.

Lost in his inner turmoil, that Fenrir barely noticed small hands grazing the ends of his shoulder length hair. Large sunken grey eyes stared up at him, and it took all of his willpower not to break down on the spot.

“Da’len you're awake!!” he exclaimed gently, while moving a tassel of curls. “Everything is going to be okay soon, I promise.”

He was so captivated with those eyes that he hadn't even realized he had taken the last few steps towards the house. Tearing his eyes from the child he became aware of a smartly dressed woman waiting for them on the porch.

“Fen'Harel ma ghilana. It's time Fenrir… are you ready?” the woman asked quietly, all while her gaze quickly flickered between him and the child.

“Ghil-Dirthalen. I am, but..” he replied, glancing quickly down at the child only to stare back at the woman.  “Give me a moment.. Please.”

With a small smile and a nod, the woman turned and receded back into the shadows of the house.

This was it, there was no place to go but forward. The next few hours held no certainties of anything promising. So with these scarce minutes he wanted them to mean something.

“Ma vhenan.”

Recognizing that he was addressing her, the child stopped her play with his hair and gave him her full attention.

“Thing a are going to very different from now, but I want you to know that no matter what I… As latha ma vhenan, and I always will.”

For being just a child it was amazing to see just how intuitive she was. She may not fully understand what was going on, but she knew well enough that something wasn't right. Her large eyes instantly swelled with tears and Fenrir did his best to prevent them from falling.

“Shhh, vhenan, everything is going to be fine, I promise. Remember I'm your abo, and I'll do anything to protect you.”

Out of his peripheral vision he could see that someone was once again in the doorway. It was time. With a heavy sigh, Fenrir gathered the child as close as possible to him. If these were truly their last moments, then he wanted to able to remember the way she felt in his arms and the way she smelled.

“I love you and I always will my little Cerrid………… 

………………

..

“DWEN! CERRIDWEN!! CERRIDWEN ATIENA ANDUNË!!! Honey it's time to wake up!!” came a annoyed feminine voice, muffled by the bedroom door.

Letting out a long groan, Cerridwen rolled in bed and sat up to face the door. Not even bothering to turn off the obnoxious artificial  crowing coming from her phone.

“You can come in momma.” She replied releasing a long yawn in the process.

Walking in and clearly annoyed with her daughter, Aminata picked up the phone and promptly silenced the offensive alarm.

“I swear Cerri if you're not going to wake up when your alarm goes off why bother setting one. The stupid thing been going off for… Cerri, love are you alright? Why are you crying?” Aminata asked, her face and voice instantly softening when saw her daughter's face.

“Huh” touching her face, Cerri became aware that she had indeed been crying, and pretty hard if her swollen eyelids were anything to go by.

“ Love did something happened, are you pain? Is your chest bothering you again?”Aminata asked tenderly, seating herself on the bed next to Cerri and slowly wiping away her tears.

“No, I'm fine mom I just had a weird dream.”

“What did you dream about?

Thinking for a moment, her expression went from blank to utter confusion. Looking at her mom's concerned face, Cerridwen opened her mouth as if to say something, to only then close it and turn towards the window. Watching the first few drops of rain hit the glass.

“That's just it mom…”

                                        I don't remember...

[blogcwgsu]

You can't be found unless you know you're lost

You can't be found unless you know you're lost.  At first this seems obvious.  Or maybe at first it makes so sense at all.  Either way, if you think about it, it could be either obvious or nonsensical.  Or just plain weird to even think about.   And yet, it's true.

I remember one time, years ago, before Google Maps.  Even before Garmin and Tom Tom.  I was driving out in the desert.  At some point, I realized I was driving too long and hadn't reached my destination yet.  Yes - I was lost.  Really lost.  There was nothing for miles in every direction.  Nothing visible except sand and scrub brush as far as the eye could see.  Cell phones were, at best, a vision in someone's mind.  But there certainly wasn't one in my car. Next thing I know, there's a Highway Patrol car behind me.  I lowered the window, reached out, and signaled for him to pull over.  Back then it was still an OK thing to get out of the car, so I did.  These days - I'd be waiting with my hands on the steering wheel until he had a chance to finish running the background check on my license plate. You can't be found unless you know you're lost I was no longer lost.  I still had no clue where I was.  But at least I had new directions to turn around and get back on track.  But if I hadn't yet realized that I was lost, I would have let him pass me and drive into the distance.  Eventually, I would have wished I had realized my situation in time to have stopped him.   Of course, eventually there would have been another Highway Patrol car, a small town, something ahead where I could have gotten back on track.  As long as I had enough gas.  As long as nothing else happened.  Out in the desert, you just don't know.  It's not like it was on the way to Las Vegas or something like that.  I actually have no idea where it would have led to.  There weren't any cars except that one.  Even then, I'm not sure I would have signaled for someone to pull over.  And judging by my appearance at the time, I'm pretty sure no one I wanted to talk to would have stopped anyway. And isn't life like that? You can't be found unless you know you're lost - why it came to mind The "verse of the day" from biblegateway.com is  Lk 19:10 For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost. Even though Jesus came to save all of us, if we don't know we're lost, we won't be found.  Even if Jesus is looking for us, if we don't know we're lost, we won't pay any mind to Him.   You can't be found unless you know you're lost. Now it sounds really weird, doesn't it?  I mean, how can it be that Jesus - the Son of God - can't find us? But let's look at the context for that verse from Luke. Zacchaeus the Tax Collector

Lk 19:1 Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. 2 A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. 3 He wanted to see who Jesus was, but being a short man he could not, because of the crowd. 4 So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way. There are a couple things to keep in mind here.  First, climbing up a tree is going to draw attention.  Of course, from Jesus.  But that's OK, since it was a prerequisite to being able to see Jesus.  As a short man, he'd either have to push his way to the front or somehow get higher than everyone else.  He chose to go higher. Second, as a tax collector, he had to know that the Jews in the crowd hated him.  And by climbing that tree, they'd all know he was there.  Apparently, Zacchaeus decided this was an acceptable price to pay, just to be able to see Jesus. I wonder, how many of us today would do that kind of thing? Lk 19:5 When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” 6 So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly. So much for even the slimmest hope of not drawing attention to himself.  Not only does Zacchaeus see Jesus, Jesus sees him.  And calls him down out of the tree.  But Jesus didn't stop there.  Jesus invited Himself to Zacchaeus' house!  This was a potential cause for alarm on at least a couple counts. First, all those people in the crowd who hated Zacchaeus may very well have added jealousy to the list of things they had against Zacchaeus.  Remember, people didn't turn against Jesus yet.  He was very popular.  To receive a request like this was a great honor. On the other hand though, the Jewish leaders now had more reason to hate both Zacchaeus and Jesus.  Staying, including eating, at the house of such a horrible sinner - a tax collector - was scandalous.  As we see in the very next verse. Lk 19:7 All the people saw this and began to mutter, “He has gone to be the guest of a ‘sinner.’ ” Lk 19:8 But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.” Zacchaeus was so touched, just from Jesus' request, that he is having a change of heart right then and there. Lk 19:9 Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. 10 For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost.” Realizing that change of heart, Jesus proclaims salvation for Zacchaeus and his family.  Jesus calls him a son of Abraham.  Remember that in other passages, like the one below, Jesus told the Jewish leaders that they were children of the devil - not sons of Abraham. The Children of Abraham Jn 8:31 To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. 32 Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” We see here that bring s disciple, following Jesus, requires more than just head-knowledge.  It requires faith, of course.  But it requires a faith strong enough that action follows as a result of that faith and belief.  Please see Are we supposed to Believe God, Believe in God or Follow God? for more on that. Jn 8:33 They answered him, “We are Abraham’s descendants and have never been slaves of anyone. How can you say that we shall be set free?” As often happens, even with us today, the people completely miss the point Jesus was making.  They focused on the simple meaning of something He said.  In so doing, they missed the deeper meaning underlying being a child of Abraham.  The one about faith.  They are lost, and don't know it. Jn 8:34 Jesus replied, “I tell you the truth, everyone who sins is a slave to sin. 35 Now a slave has no permanent place in the family, but a son belongs to it forever. 36 So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed. 37 I know you are Abraham’s descendants. Yet you are ready to kill me, because you have no room for my word. 38 I am telling you what I have seen in the Father’s presence, and you do what you have heard from your father.’” Jesus now expands on what it means to be a child of Abraham.  Or not. Jn 8:39 “Abraham is our father,” they answered. But the people stubbornly hold onto the thinking that as descendants o Abraham, they are children of Abraham.  That's the Jewish view on genealogy.  However, it's not Jesus' point.  They are still lost, and still don't know it. “If you were Abraham’s children,” said Jesus, “then you would do the things Abraham did. 40 As it is, you are determined to kill me, a man who has told you the truth that I heard from God. Abraham did not do such things. 41 You are doing the things your own father does.” Here,s Jesus' point about You are doing the things your own father does is completely missed.  They are even more lost. “We are not illegitimate children,” they protested. “The only Father we have is God himself.” There's a subtle hint as to what's going on here.  One that's not in the Greek text from which this is translated.  We can see the difference between father and Father.  Lower versus upper case.  We assume father is a person - Abraham.  And we assume Father is God. It's interesting, although maybe not obvious, that Jesus uses a word translated as father in You are doing the things your own father does.  Question - is Jesus talking about Abraham here?  Answer: to be revealed soon. But when the Jewish people reply, they use the same Greek word Jesus used.  However, it gets translated as Father.  They mean God. Let's see what comes next. The Children of the Devil Jn 8:42 Jesus said to them, “If God were your Father, you would love me, for I came from God and now am here. OK - so Jesus makes it clear He's not talking about their father being God. It's about to be made crystal clear - with the lower case father in English.  But still the same Greek word: 3962 προπάτωρ, πατήρ n m. Apparently a root word; TDNT 5:945; TDNTA 805; GK 4635 and 4252; 419 occurrences; AV translates as “Father” 268 times, and “father” 150 times. 1 generator or male ancestor. 1A either the nearest ancestor: father of the corporeal nature, natural fathers, both parents. 1B a more remote ancestor, the founder of a race or tribe, progenitor of a people, forefather: so Abraham is called, Jacob and David. 1B1 fathers i.e. ancestors, forefathers, founders of a race. 1C one advanced in years, a senior. 2 metaph. 2A the originator and transmitter of anything. 2A1 the authors of a family or society of persons animated by the same spirit as himself. 2A2 one who has infused his own spirit into others, who actuates and governs their minds. 2B one who stands in a father’s place and looks after another in a paternal way. 2C a title of honour. 2C1 teachers, as those to whom pupils trace back the knowledge and training they have received. 2C2 the members of the Sanhedrin, whose prerogative it was by virtue of the wisdom and experience in which they excelled, to take charge of the interests of others. 3 God is called the Father. 3A of the stars, the heavenly luminaries, because he is their creator, upholder, ruler. 3B of all rational and intelligent beings, whether angels or men, because he is their creator, preserver, guardian and protector. 3B1 of spiritual beings and of all men. 3C of Christians, as those who through Christ have been exalted to a specially close and intimate relationship with God, and who no longer dread him as a stern judge of sinners, but revere him as their reconciled and loving Father. 3D the Father of Jesus Christ, as one whom God has united to himself in the closest bond of love and intimacy, made acquainted with his purposes, appointed to explain and carry out among men the plan of salvation, and made to share also in his own divine nature. 3D1 by Jesus Christ himself. 3D2 by the apostles.  Strong, J. (1995). Enhanced Strong’s Lexicon. Woodside Bible Fellowship. I have not come on my own; but he sent me. 43 Why is my language not clear to you? Because you are unable to hear what I say. 44 You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father’s desire. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies. 45 Yet because I tell the truth, you do not believe me! 46 Can any of you prove me guilty of sin? If I am telling the truth, why don’t you believe me? 47 He who belongs to God hears what God says. The reason you do not hear is that you do not belong to God.” These people are completely lost.  And clueless.  Therefore, they cannot be found.  Even though they are right there talking to Jesus in person. So - with that in mind, here's some background on Zacchaeus in particular, and sinners in general. ZACCHAEUS . A.D. 30. A wealthy but dishonest tax collector in Jericho who became a follower of Jesus. Luke 19:1–10.  Richards, L. (1999). Every man in the Bible (p. 215). Nashville: T. Nelson. TAX COLLECTORS AND SINNERS When we consider men who were friends of Jesus, we need to remember that Jesus was especially close to ordinary persons and that He had great affection for “tax collectors and sinners.” Most of the population despised tax collectors as collaborators with oppressive foreign or local governments. “Sinners” was a term broadly applied in New Testament times by the religious elite. It included such persons as prostitutes, but at times was applied to the mass of ordinary people who were not as rigorous in keeping the rulings of the rabbis. Jesus, who attended parties given by the tax collectors Matthew and Zacchaeus for their friends (Matt. 9:10–13; Mark 2:15–17; Luke 5:30–32; 19:1–10), was strongly criticized for being a “friend of tax collectors and sinners” (Matt. 11:19; Luke 7:34). Yet, it was sinners Jesus had come to save, and those who knew they were sinners were most responsive to Christ. Jesus not only felt comfortable with them; they felt comfortable with Him. What a challenge for us today to be as loving and accepting as Christ was so we can communicate love for sinners while in no way countenancing their sin.  Richards, L. (1999). Every man in the Bible (p. 197). Nashville: T. Nelson. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost Zacchaeus knew he was lost.  And he also knew he could be "found" - saved - by Jesus.  So he embarrassed the heck out of himself by climbing up a tree - in full view of people he had cheated - so Jesus could "find" him.  And Jesus certainly found Zacchaeus.  And potentially added to the embarrassment by calling him down from the tree.  Truth is - the embarrassment could have been on both of them.  On Zacchaeus, because if he had any hope at all of quietly seeing Jesus, that hope was totally gone.  On Jesus, because here He was getting together with yet another of the people despised by the Jewish leaders.  But neither was embarrassed.  Both were overjoyed at the encounter.  The found and the finder.  The sinner who was saved - and the one who came to save the sinner. You can't be found unless you know you're lost. You can't be found unless you know you're lost.  And unless you want to be found.  And you won't want to be found unless you're also willing to potentially be embarrassed.  Maybe by your own family.  I've been there.  And lived through it.  Maybe by your friends.  Been there too.  And lived through that was well.   But when you're found, you have a new "family".  And real friends. We are / were all lost There are two more things to realize. First - we are all sinners.  And, at some point, we were all lost. Righteousness Through Faith Ro 3:21 But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. 22 This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, 23 for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, 24 and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. But just before that is something Paul wrote that explains the significance of this passage. No One Is Righteous Ro 3:9 What shall we conclude then? Are we any better?  Not at all! We have already made the charge that Jews and Gentiles alike are all under sin. 10 As it is written: “There is no one righteous, not even one; This verse, and what follows is all bad news.  It sounds completely hopeless.  The lost can never be found.  But there is a way.  Jesus.  And that's why the Romans 3:21 passage above is so important. Ro 3:11 there is no one who understands, no one who seeks God. Ro 3:12 All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one.” Ro 3:13 “Their throats are open graves; their tongues practice deceit.” “The poison of vipers is on their lips.” Ro 3:14 “Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness.” Ro 3:15 “Their feet are swift to shed blood; Ro 3:16 ruin and misery mark their ways, Ro 3:17 and the way of peace they do not know.” Ro 3:18 “There is no fear of God before their eyes.” Ro 3:19 Now we know that whatever the law says, it says to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced and the whole world held accountable to God. 20 Therefore no one will be declared righteous in his sight by observing the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of sin. So we see - we really are lost.  We really all need to be found.  But only after we want to be found.  As long as we insist we aren't lost - we really never can be found.  So as long as we insist we aren't lost, neither can we be saved.  Because - as Jesus said - For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost. Being saved is a gift.  A gift that must be accepted.  But also a gift that cannot be accepted until we admit we need it.  Until we admit we're lost. Conclusion - You can't be found unless you know you're lost. What about you? Have you been found? Or are you still lost? Image by Johannes Plenio from Pixabay   Read the full article

[shadyufo]

I live in the city but have always wanted to live in the middle of nowhere. The only thing that worries me is people with views extremely different from mine and as a queer woman, might be hateful towards me. Maybe I shouldn't assume you're more accepting than most, but how do you cope with peoples' different views in the country?

Hi Anon! Thank you for the message! I apologize in advance for the long, rambling reply.

I don’t live as far out as I would like to but I still love living where I do, nestled on a quiet little road surrounded by thick woods and rolling green pastures, wildlife and livestock all around, no traffic noises, and no wall-to-wall neighbors. It’s definitely my favorite place to be.

It’s probably pretty obvious that I’m not a very social person. Like, at all. I’m a homebody and typically don’t stray far from my roost so my social circle is small but for the most part my family and friends are wonderful and very accepting people and I’m very fortunate to have them in my life. And since I’ve started working more in the nearest town I’ve been honestly surprised and delighted by how many LGBTQIA supporters there are in this area. Granted I am working in a community of artists which is typically where you’ll find the more liberal folks no matter the geographical location, but even when I was in college seven years ago—a local art college too, mind you—it was surprising and unfortunate how narrow-minded the majority of my peers and teachers were. So from my perspective at least, things have been gradually improving in this rural, southern area. For just a small example: at the art camp I was teaching at last week a thirteen year old boy made a poster for Pride and most of the other kids (ages around 8 to 16) were excited about it and asking if they could write their names on it in a show of support. The ones that didn’t know what it meant asked their peers, were given intelligent, insightful answers, and then they were asking if they could sign their names too.

TN is growing in massive leaps and bounds (I think there’s an average of a hundred new people moving in to Nashville and the surrounding areas every day now) and while it is still very much a red state with a lot of ignorant people saying and doing ignorant things, there are a great deal of amazing, accepting, and loving people here too. The current mayor of Nashville is a supporter of equal rights and even married an acquaintance of mine’s daughter and her wife—the first same sex couple married in Nashville—a couple of years ago. More and more I hear people talking about their friend and his husband, their relative and her girlfriend, their coworker and their significant other in a positive way and not in some hushed, conspiratory tone.

The times they are a changing. In fits and starts, a few steps forward, a backwards tumble down a staircase, then a series of determined stomps back up it and beyond, but they are changing. Right now it seems like we are in one of those tumbling backwards down the stairs periods unfortunately. There are billboards up around here with big black letters printed over images of flames saying you’ll go to hell if you lie with someone of the same sex and other fire and brimstone Bible verses taken out of context. The day after the election a nazi flag was run up a pole in someone’s front yard a few miles away and it’s still there. On Saturday mornings in the next town over there are people on street corners waving signs at passing cars and preaching fear and damnation and end times at people stuck at red lights. But—and maybe I’m wrong about this—I think their voices and audiences are shrinking. We have a long ways to go but I think the future looks bright. There are angry people in the world, always have been and always will be, but I see a great deal of love and acceptance in my generation and in the younger ones coming up and fewer and fewer of us tolerate that hateful bs. 

Maybe that’s just me trying to find the bright spots but I continue to see evidence that makes me believe it’s true. So my advice is to stay strong, find and focus on the good, loving people around you, be you, and shine on, Anon. You are valid, you are loved, and you deserve to live in peace in your own quiet country retreat. I hope you have the opportunity to find it soon.

[niskrp]

:// SEARCHING OPERATIVE …

… searching for AGENT 026 / THE HERMIT. classified files indicate that they go by KANG HAN, and are also known as KISA. born in DAEGU, SK, in 1990/09/03, further investigation makes it clear that they joined the agency FIVE YEARS ago. they are an INTELLIGENCE AGENT who specialize in ANALYTIC METHODOLOGY. higher clearance is needed to access further information…

… ENTER PASSWORD TO ACCESS THE COMPLETE FILE.

:// ACCESSING BACKGROUND FILES …

tw. death of a parent, death of a partner, smoking, rejection from family, vomit.

i.

he loses his father when he’s six.

he finds him again, when he’s seven. seated in front of his father’s favorite wooden board, his grandfather’s smile brittle at the edges as he presses that first stone into han’s hands. he loved baduk, you know. had a real knack for it. tiny fingers curl around an even tinier stone.

grandpa, i wanna love it, too!

his grandfather’s gaze is heavy on him as he pushes the white stones forward. the container is scuffed copper, round and worn with age. still, han grips onto the bowl like a lifeline. a single tether between six and seven; the last tie between loss and his father’s smile, hidden in a mass of stones. a ship to finally, finally take him home.

then i’ll teach you.

ii.

baduk is a game of strategy, his grandfather teaches him.

“to win?”

“to protect.”

he spreads the stones out over the board. teaches him of horses and attacks. guides him through ladders and traps and wars. teaches him to build walls only to break them down. shows him how to see through a bluff with one hand and how to deceive with the other.

han eats it all up, like a man starved.

it’s been months since their baduk lessons have begun but, still, han can’t get enough.

still, he wants more.

“it looks more like long-winded war to me,” his grandmother tuts from behind them. it’s well past han’s bedtime but they’re too far long into their match to stop now. “let the boy sleep, honey.”

“we’re almost done,” his grandfather doesn’t even bother looking up from the board. sets down another black stone, hand steady.

han bites back a grin.

he moves too fast on his next move. nearly jostles one of his other pieces in his effort to place his own.

“yeah, grandma! i’m gonna beat him in my next two moves!”

“really?” his mother appears. her fingers card through han’s hair gently as she studies the board between them. his grandfather laughs before han can answer. his grandmother joins the fray, too.

another black stone goes down. and then one more.

and then the game is over.

and han has lost.

“but – what? how? i thought i–”

“arrogance,” his grandfather muses. “will be your downfall, kang han.”

his mother’s hand stills in his hair. a flush has reached han’s cheeks as he studies the board again, his mouth twisted in discontent. he had had it. the game had been his.

“what d'you mean?”

“your desire to win was too strong. i told you,” his grandfather’s gaze is owlish behind his glasses. they glint in the kitchen light hanging above them. “baduk is a game to protect.”

with slow, steady hands, his grandfather guides him through the board.

you start with your home. you build. earnestly, carefully. no matter what attacks come, no matter what traps your opponent sets, you must always return to your home. you must always build and rebuild. its protection and safety must always come first. when your desire to win overcomes your desire to protect, then your home will be lost. then the match will be over.

a weight settles into the pit of han’s stomach. heavy, like he’s swallowed the entire board of white and black. he can feel his mother’s hand on his shoulder but he does not look at her. his gaze drifts to the picture hanging above their mantleplace instead. his father smiles down at them, from there. kind and gentle. the medals and pendants across his chest seem to shine, even through the frame.

he wonders if his father had tasted loss like this before, too.

he wonders…

“your home,” his grandmother echoes, softly. distantly. “must always come first.”

don’t forget that, kang han.

never forget.

iii.

“did you hear? he ranked first at the japan championship last week and flew back for midterms.”

“i wonder why he even came back! i heard he’s quitting school to go pro.”

“isn’t he the youngest to ever rank professionally?”

“man, kang han is –”

kang han is: gifted.

he learns this at the age of nine. when his grandfather discovers that, while his late father had had a knack for the game, han possesses something else entirely. some called it luck, others called it genius. and, well, most called it for what it was. a gift. pure and simple, passed down from his grandfather’s leathery hands to his own. a piece of his father that would stay with him. a piece of his father that would be his to keep.

“welcome home, han,” his grandfather’s voice cuts through the noise of the airport. there are too many lights and a migraine is lingering behind han’s eyes. he reaches for his grandfather anyway. grabs onto the front of his shirt and buries his face into his chest.

he can hear his manager clearing his throat behind them. you’re thirteen, now, han. the media is watching. you need to be – more composed. more put-together. you need to be more, more, more.

han is gifted, after all. a reigning champion returning with too many trophies for one person to hold.

his grandfather doesn’t seem to care.

“you’ve had a long flight,” he hums, his fingers calloused at his neck. he hooks a finger into the uncomfortable collar of han’s dress shirt and loosens it easily. “you won a great fight.”

“’m tired,” is all that han mumbles out. his grandfather laughs. han can feel it more than he can see it. a deep, rumbling sound that seeps into han’s bones. warms him from the inside out. for a moment, han forgets about the lights and cameras and crowds. for a moment, han wraps himself up into his grandfather’s laughter and pretends that he can hear his father’s, too.

“i know, my boy,” he soothes. “i know. let’s go home.”

iv.

from the age of nine to eighteen, han accomplishes more than most adults can in an entire lifetime.

universities fight for his attention post-graduation and the media labels him as a child prodigy. kaist wins the luck of the draw and he soon learns that his genius stretches beyond the baduk board.

kang han is gifted!

his father’s gaze does not waver from his frame and han stares back at him, just as steadily.

“i don’t want to be gifted,” he whispers. eighteen, on the precipice of graduation. stealing from his grandfather’s liquor closet with the taste of old whiskey clinging to the backs of his teeth. “i just wanted to be yours.”

his father does not reply.

but han isn’t foolish enough to expect an answer.

after all, a dead man can’t speak.

who the fuck was he kidding anyway?

v.

it’s his mother who finds the letter first.

it sits, now, clutched between her fists. her hands are steady, though. they do not shake, they do not tremble. instead, they rest firmly in her lap, her knuckles white.

she is not afraid.

she is angry.

“what,” she grits out. “is this?”

han steps inside fully. toes off his sneakers and shuffles in one step, then another. his grandmother sits to his mother’s left, her hands gentle at her elbow. let him sit, let him talk. his grandfather sits in his usual chair, back straight, both fists loose over his knees. his father, in the frame above him, sits in the exact same position.

they all stare, they all wait.

han lowers his head.

“i’m enlisting.”

“kang han!”

“grandpa was in the military,” he continues, unstoppable. “dad was a general, too.”

han bites the inside of his cheek. his own hands curl into fists at his side. something is burning in his belly, hot and angry and ashamed. it threatens to choke him from the inside out.

“i’m not even enlisting in the military anyway,” he spits out. “it’s a government position. they scouted me. they think i can do well. they knew… ”

your father was a great man, kang han.

did you know him?

“they knew… dad.”

it comes out more broken than he wants it to. voice cracking at the edges. his mother’s face goes as white as her knuckles. his father continues to smile, wise and kind from above in his frame. the medals decorating his chest seem even more prominent today than they ever were before.

“han…” his grandmother begins, voice gentle. “think of everything you’ll be giving up. you have an entire future ahead of you. you’re–”

“gifted,” han finishes for her. the heat in his stomach turns into vines. crawling up his chest and throat, reeling out of his mouth in anger. “gifted and useless. i can play a stupid old man’s game and sit at a computer and tap some keys but i’ll never do what dad did!”

he turns to his grandfather, desperate.

“grandpa. grandpa, listen,” he takes a step closer but his grandfather does not bat an eye. stares at him, evenly, from where he sits. “they said–”

i did. very well. he saved my life.

he… what?

he saved my life. it’s an honor to meet you today, kang han. your father would’ve been proud.

“you always told me to protect. you always told me that that comes first – and i – i can finally protect someone! i can finally do something useful. just like you, just like dad.”

he isn’t sure what’s louder. the sound of his own heart, beating wildly in his chest, or the lonely sound of his mother’s heart breaking on that living room floor.

“han… you're… you’ve always been useful. you don’t need to give up your life to be like your father.”

tears sting at the corners of his eyes. he can barely make out the emblem on the paper clutched in his mother’s hands anymore. a familiar dragon. a crest his father had kept in an old safe. hidden beneath han’s countless, shiny, fucking meaningless baduk trophies. still, han refuses to cry.

he saved my life.

“i want to do this. i can do this,” han stands up straighter. rounds his shoulders and clenches his jaw. “i’m going to be like dad. i’ve made my choice.”

for the first time since han has stepped into the room, his grandfather speaks:

for the first time since his mother had discovered that letter, hidden between the books on his desk; for the first time since she wept into her hands and fell into his grandmother’s arms; for the first time since his mother swallowed down her fear and terror and desperation at losing her husband and her son, his grandfather speaks:

“get out.”

vi.

kang han is gifted!

and so is everyone else in the godforsaken program.

for the first time, han learns what mediocrity is. it tastes stale on his tongue, as he finishes second, third, fourth. han had always grown up with loss, but he had never been taught to lose.

he sits up again, sweat at his temples as he faces the control board once more.

“again,” he grits out. the proctor beside him raises a brow. “i want to go again.”

“your turn has passed. fall back, cadet kang–”

“no.”

he slips the headphones over his ears and stares at the screen before him, his eyes bloodshot and his pulse pounding at his temples. his sweaty fists grip the controls as the program reboots.

“i want to go again.”

and this time, he burns ablaze. i’ll win.

vii.

two and a half years come and go and han becomes a bit of a legend.

not for baduk, not for his trophies.

but because he’s fucking great at what he does.

through the blood, sweat, and tears – he forges a name for himself. finishes his training at a breakneck pace and does not relent. does not stop, does not give up. wins and wins and wins some more. he does not cry when his family does not appear for his commencement ceremony. he does not cry after throwing up all night from fatigue and exhaustion after too many hours in the field and not enough time in bed. he does not cry.

he does not break.

because han is done with loss. han is finished with losing.

“take a left,” he barks into his headset, gaze steely as he guides himself through the screens before him. he can hear a gasp behind him. can hear the whispering. why is he leading them that way? is he out of his mind? oh god, he’s going to get someone killed. he resists the urge to roll his eyes. focuses instead on the controls in his hands. “do you fucking trust me or not?”

hesitation on the other end of the line is not taken lightly.

“take a fucking left, asshole,” he repeats venomously.

a beat, and then: the light sensor on his screen finally moves.

with only a second to spare.

by the time han has pushed back from the control board, sweat trickling down his back and a migraine building steadily behind his eyes, the smoke from the explosion has cleared. the heart rate detector continues to blink rhythmically on the screen. spiked and erratic, but there, still. alive, still.

“you saved my life,” the voice huffs in his headset, breathless.

he saved my life.

“i know,” han slams a hand over the control board to close out of the screen. “but i won’t next time, if you hesitate again.”

a breathy laughs filters through the headset.

“for a newbie, you’re a real asshole to have as a partner, i hope you know.”

han doesn’t bother with a reply.

he’s too brutal. he takes too many risks. did you see him back there? how the hell did he maneuver that anyway? man, kang han is –

gifted, he wants to finish for them lamely as he tosses his headset aside and shuffles out of the room, shoulders broad and his face grim. the crowd behind him quickly parts and, again, he is alone.

two and a half years come and go, and han becomes a bit of a legend.

(he thinks of baduk trophies and his grandfather’s laugh and the tear tracks staining his mother’s face and wonders if his father would be proud of him now.)

viii.

fast forward. han is still a legend, around here.

han is a winner, around here.

he rises in the ranks. his partner does the same. an expert strategist and a fearless field agent. a dangerous combination, an unlikely duo.

“you’re both too risky,” their supervisor tuts during one review.

han raises a brow. his partner does the same. they both shrug in unison.

“but we get the job done, don’t we?”

their supervisor regards them evenly, voice mild.

“but at what cost?”

han laughs it off. brusque and fragmented, something not quite right behind his gaze.

(his grandmother had called for the first time in a year the other night. one of his medals had arrived at their residence instead of his own. her voice had been gentle over the line.)

(i'm… we're… proud of you, han. we miss you, dear. we do.)

(han had thrown up all over his shoes a minute later.)

“what does that matter? we get the job done, no one dies, no one gets hurt.”

“you call… three operative agents in intensive care ‘not getting hurt’?” his supervisor appears less than amused but it’s clear that the evaluation is finished. three new medals hang from his partner’s chest and han’s leather jacket hangs loose around his shoulders. he can’t remember the last time he’s eaten. it doesn’t matter anyway.

(we miss you, dear.)

“hey, we still came out on top, didn’t we?”

his partner bursts out laughing at this but immediately sobers up at the sharp look it earns him. discreetly, under the table, he presses a silent high five to han’s hand. han rolls his eyes.

“so are we done here or what?”

arrogance, as his grandfather used to say. will be your downfall, kang han.

ix.

“so what is it with you and your 'rents?”

han shares a cigarette with his partner. the rooftop is empty but the city looks alive, all bright lights and noise below. he leans over the railing and exhales smoke through his nose.

“nothing.”

“uh huh,” his partner turns, tilting his face up to him. “that’s why you cry like a baby every time your grandma sends you a kakao emoji.”

han nearly shoves him right off the rooftop, right then and there.

an unlikely duo.

perhaps his first friend?

“they’re just… mad. that i wanted this. that i wanted to be here, you know?”

his partner regains his footing. steadies himself again. reaches for the cigarette between han’s fingers. ashes drift like falling stars and han wonders if his mom is looking at the same moon that he’s looking at, too.

“heard your dad was a huge deal back in the day,” he hums. han shrugs.

a secret he had learned upon completing his training.

a secret that his mother’s tears had fought to keep.

han thinks of the framed portrait that hangs in the hallway of the jongno building. not unlike the one that used to hang in his family’s childhood living room. the uniform he wore was different but his father’s smile had been the same.

“yeah,” is all that han can come up with.

his partner finishes the cigarette off and a cloud curls out of his mouth like a dragon’s smoke.

“he’s probably proud of you, you know,” he murmurs. han pretends not to hear. “is probably real fucking proud.”

x.

han loses his partner when he’s twenty-seven.

he’s thrown back in time and feels like he’s six years old again. lost and broken and desperate for any kind of lifeline, any kind of reprieve. but his grandfather is no longer there to hold his hand. there is no baduk to be learned.

just han, twenty-seven, frozen in front of a screen filled with white static.

the control room is silent.

han’s hands are shaking.

he can feel tears streaming down his face but cannot register that they’re his own. they slip past his lips and he can taste salt and bile on his tongue.

you saved my life.

it’s an honor to meet you today, kang han.

get out.

your father would be proud.

so are we done here or what?

“no,” han stutters out, trembling hands grappling for the controls. he slams his fist against them again. then once more. the screen buzzes with static but, still, the room behind him is silent. “no, no, no!”

“for a newbie, you’re a real asshole to have as a partner, i hope you know.”

“fucking no! agent, report. AGENT, REPORT!”

a hand grips his shoulder from behind.

“agent kang.”

“AGENT, REPORT!”

“it’s over.”

kang han is gifted!

loss finds him at twenty-seven. catches him between its teeth and refuses to let his bloody body go.

you start with your home. you build. earnestly, carefully. no matter what attacks come, no matter what traps your opponent sets, you must always return to your home. you must always build and rebuild. its protection and safety must always come first. when your desire to win overcomes your desire to protect, then your home will be lost. then the match will be over.

the game is over.

and kang han has lost.

:// ACCESSING PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION …

don’t get in kang han’s way.

no one ever really specifies whether this applies professionally or otherwise – but it’s probably best to assume the worst.

after all, kang han is a storm of the worst kind.

despite nis’ best efforts to snuff out the thunderous rumors, han’s volatile reputation continues to precede him. he’s irritable. he’s short-tempered. he takes his coffee black but his bitterness runs far deeper than that. he’s an asshole, a tyrant, a dictator. so painfully moody. and, maybe most importantly, fucking overwhelmingly great. despite the countless terrifying rumors that circulate around the water cooler, it’s undeniable: what he lacks in tact and sensitivity, han makes up for in genius. ten-fold.

even after his sudden department change, from legendary newbie quartermaster to, now, a newly appointed analytic methodologist, han is gifted at what he does. and he knows it. his sharp tongue carves out the most pristine strategies and his calloused hands render pure gold. even the veteran cadets from his most recent st program would say the same: that boy has lightening crackling under his skin. and he knows it.

so don’t get in kang han’s way is probably the safest advice to take in this field. don’t get in his way and then maybe – just maybe? – he’ll save your life too.

… END OF FILE. CONTACT THE AGENT DIRECTLY FOR MORE.

[meanderfall]

No, no please continue being horribly in depth forever! Seriously, I really love how you analyze things! :D And yes, that's exactly what I meant by sturdy and grounded! From what I've seen, you seem like a very level headed person, and like you can stand strong even after taking some hard blows. You do seem like maybe you're a bit vulnerable against specialized attacks (like those that come from your parents), but you're stronger than you realize and hey, we all have our weakness, right?

And you know, there's nothing wrong with taking things slowly. It may seem dull at first, but there's a richness to it that I think a lot of people don't realize. Taking the time to really learn how things work, to really experience things, that can be rewarding in its own right. You're clearly very intelligent and observant, so taking it slow allows you to see things a lot of people miss when they rush through. And honestly, sometimes the little things really do make all the difference.

;;A;; 

*voice cracking* I think i might also be weak to compliments, because this one shot through all of my defenses and gosh thank you so much??? I DONT KNOW HOW TO RESPOND TO SUCH WONDERFUL COMPLIMENTS OKAYI cant even be like “Hugs!!!” bc i dont know if you like hugs, just, you are an amazing person?? I hope you have a good and happy life because you deserve it?? I adore you???

(Anon, I also enjoy the way you analyze things, I think you’re very clever and perceptive)

You know, I was thinking recently, about paths through life. Because I’m graduating cegep soon and I’ll be joining the more adult world, and whenever you hear parents and teachers talk, they always say it’s okay to make mistakes or to not know right away what you want, you can always switch, you have the time.

 But? I wish they talked more about just enjoying the path through life? About the experiences you’ve had, the friends you’ve made, the mistakes you’ve made, all of them are important and should be treasured, but they always talk like finding what it is you want to do is the most important thing in the world and? I don’t think so?

Because by those standards, I should probably be upset that I went and got a degree in my current program instead of heading straight into the other one I want, but if I hadn’t made that “mistake” I wouldn’t have met any of my classmates, who are such incredible people, I wouldn’t have met some amazing teachers, wouldn’t have had classes that legitimately changed my entire perspective on some things, I wouldn’t have learnt so much.

So yeah. Taking things slow can be good. Being able to enjoy the little things can make all the difference.

(Also anon, I’m so sorry for the lateness in this reply, I just legit had no idea how to respond to such nice things being said about me, and things have been hectic, forgive me, friend)