#David and Sarah are charged with safely getting him to where he needs to be

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Can’t stop thinking about dnd aus for multiple fandoms it’s actually a problem

[wide-eyed--wonderer]

Hi there! I just wanted to thank you again for the sick Jack one, it really was so amazing! Also, could you maybe write something where Les has a nightmare either at home with Davey there or at the lodging house without him? Whichever you prefer. I honestly can't decide which would be better lol Thank you so much and have an awesome day/night/whatever! Drink some water, get some rest, and do something nice for yourself, you deserve it!<3<3<3

Anon, I am so sorry for how late this is. Life, ya know?? But here it is, also, thank you so much for your incredibly kind words. 

“Da- Dave- Davey - DAVID”

Davey shot up and was at his brother's side in an instant. Les talking in his sleep was incredibly unusual, so naturally, it had woken Davey up. He’d intended to just let it play out, but then he’d heard his name and all bets were off.

“Les, Les, hey, I’m here.. Shh wake up” Les didn’t seem to be herding Davey, we just kept thrashing and turning, tangling himself in his sheets. 

“Stop.. please..” Les whimpered. Seeing that gentle attempts weren’t working, Davey leaned over and shook Les’ leg. 

“Les -” the boy in question sat up in a blink, eyes wide and frantic before landing on Davey and throwing himself into his big brother's side. 

Davey, who had not been expecting Les to wake up, let alone charge and him, fell onto the floor but managed to manoeuvre himself into a sitting position with his brother on his lap. 

“Hey, hey Les,” Davey held the shaking boy, murmuring into his ears, “what's wrong, talk to me.” Davey began rubbing his hands in circles on Les’ back, before starting to trace letters on his back. 

I-T-S O-K

Eventually, the shaking subsided, and Les moved his fingers to Davey’s chest. 

N-I-G-H-T-M-A-R-E

“Oh Les,” Davey reached down and kissed his brother's head. “Do you want to talk about it?” Les nodded his head but didn’t lift it from against Davey’s chest. 

S-T-R-I-K-E

Davey felt his arms tighten around Les. He’d had his own share of nightmares about the strike, but during that confrontation with the bulls on the first day, he’d lost sight of Les. He’d tried to protect him most of the day, and he kept him by his side, but when the cops had shown up to declare the Newsies targets, it’d been chaos, and Davey had gotten hit in the jaw and told Les to run. He didn’t see Les again until he’d gotten back to the lodging, and both boys were too shaken up to talk about it beyond more than an “I’m ok, your ok.” 

And then everything happened, and neither boy got time in the three months that had passed to talk about the events. 

“Everyone was so big Davey. And…” Les sniffed “... I know you told me to run, but I wanted to help, but then one of them grabbed me, and I think… I think….” Davey shifted, so his back was against the bed, and pressed a kiss to Les’ head, encouraging him to keep talking. “I think Race pulled them off and punched them.”  

Well, that cleared up why Les seemed to cling a bit closer to Race then he did the other Newsies (aside from Jack) because his brain registered Race as safe. Davey felt his heartbreak and an insurmountable amount of gratitude for Race in that second. If Race hadn’t been there…. Davey didn’t even want to think about it. 

“Then… then Jack came up and he put me in this, container thing, I… I don't really know what it was, and told me to stay down. And it was safe, but it was too big to get out of on my own, but there were shouting and bulls and I… I couldn’t see you” Les broke out into fresh sobs at that, crashing again into Davey's chest. Davey let one hand wrap around Les’ waist and brought the other one up to card through his hair. 

“Hey... it's ok… I'm here, remember. We’re safe... It’s over, they can’t do that again.'' Davey kept mumbling reassurances into Les' ear and lept tracing on his back.

S-A-F-E

Eventually, Le cried himself out and started to talk again. 

“And then.. Someone, someone knocked over the barrel and I was rolling and I didn’t know where I was going and…” Les started sniffing, but Davey froze. 

That was him.

He hadn’t known Les was in there.

All he remembered was Jak facing down three bulls alone, and seeing a barrel and just rolling it toward Jack, knocking the bulls out of Jack's path. Someone else had pulled him into a fight before the barrel had reached Jack. 

How had he not noticed? 

Les didn’t seem to notice Davey spiral and panic and had recovered enough to start talking again.

“Then it stopped and Jack took me out… and I don’t know what he said, I just started running and I got back to the lodging house and Race was there, and he started bandaging me up but I was still so scared because of you… you weren’t back yet.” And then Les pulled back for the first time since he’d thrown himself into Davey and looked at him in the eyes. 

“And then you were, and it was ok.”

Davey swallowed, to try and clear his dry throat. There would be time to panic much, much later, to Jack or Sarah about what had happened and a time to thank his friends for looking out for Les. But right now, he needed to comfort his brother.

“Is that what you dreamed about?” Davey lifted Les’ chin with the tip of his finger so he’d meet his eyes. 

“I guess.” Les shrugged

“Is…” Davey swallowed, “is this the first time you’ve dreamt about this?”

“N..no” Davey’s heart broke. 

“Listen to me,” Les ducked his head and started pulling away from Davey. “Hey no, I’m not mad at you” Les stopped and looked at Davey. 

God, Davey had forgotten how young he was. 

“You’re not?” He even sounded so small. 

“Promise, I’m not” Davey smiled as Les crawled closer to him and let Davey wrap his arms around him again. 

“But listen, if this happens again, you have a bad dream about the strike or anything, I want you to wake me up.” 

“But you-”

“No buts. I’m your big brother. Any bad dream, I’m here to help and fight them away.”

“But I’m big now. I’m ten. I’m not supposed to have bad dreams or need you to protect me.”

“Les, everyone has bad dreams.”

“Even the Newsies?”

Davey shuddered to think what they Newsies had bad dreams about. 

“Even the Newsies. But they look out for each other, help their brothers out when they have bad dreams. Just like I want to do for you.”

“Do you have bad dreams, Davey?” 

Davey thought back over the past three months, everything he’d gained, and then almost lost. Everything and everyone he needed to protect now. 

“Of course. And do you know what I do when I have them?” Les shook his head. “I go to talk to Sarah. Or I talk to Jack when I see him in the morning.”

“So… you wouldn't be mad if I woke you up because I had a bad dream?” Davey leaned down and pressed a kiss to Les’ forehead.

“Of course not.” Les curled in tighter to Davey, and with the adrenaline of the night starting to wear off, started to fall asleep. “C’mon. You’re sleeping with me tonight.”

“Ok. Love you, Davey.” 

“Love you too, Les.” 

Thank you for the request anon, and let me know what you think!!

[louisapennyfeather2021]

So I went back and did more research and I decided to make a new placement of Newsies in Camp Half-blood. I'm not changing what anyone else has said, this is just how I imagine the crossover. (Part 1/5):

@a-fight-we-have-to-win and @morris-delancey-street for the headcanons that inspired most of the reasoning behind characters.

Jack Kelly- Son of Hecate. Jack is a somewhat quiet person unless he's around the people he's closest to. He loves creating. Anything. Drawings, illusions, pictures with the Mist. He loves it. He struggles with feeling inferior because he doesn't feel like he can protect those closest to him, but he's determined and that's what matters in the end.

Sarah Jacobs- Daughter of Hebe. Sarah is very smiley, and despite being twins with Davey, she has a different parent. This is mostly due to how Athena has her children. Sarah is very talkative as long as you respect her and her opinions. She can be very cold if you disrespect anyone or anything, really. She's very attentive to younger campers which gives her a "mom" vibe, but she doesn't mind. Sarah prefers helping younger kids over being with the older kids, unless it's her friends and family. Sarah struggles with feeling out of place because of this, but her friends try their hardest to make her feel as wanted as possible. Sarah is such a musical/play/Broadway need. She could name every Musical in chronological order since Broadway opened if she asked. She's dedicated, to say the least. Sarah is big on family, whether her godly siblings or Davey and Les, she never lets a day go by without letting anyone in her family know she loves them. Sarah can be very prideful sometimes and it shows, which she knows is something she can work on. Through her pride, Sarah knows when a wrong has been done and she won't let it slide.

David "Davey" Jacobs- Son of Athena. Davey is smart and he doesn't like jumping right into something without thinking through all of the pros and cons. He's extremely smart, there's no doubt, but he lacks the self esteem to prove it unless he's with the people he really cares about or he's really passionate about something. Davey is terrified of failing because he's worried the few people he has will leave him. 

Les Jacobs- Son of Dionysus. He doesn't like his dad, especially since he's camp director, but also because he feels useless. Les feels like he doesn't always belong with the older kids because he gets along with them a bit better than kids his age. He also feels this way since him and Davey aren't from the same godly parent. He's courageous and you listen to him when he talks because he just demands attention, but not in a spoiled way. He just has such a high presence for a kid his age. Les is usually calm in large groups and he actually prefers them over being alone so he doesn't feel left out. Les is very competitive when he gets his head into it. Watching him practice for capture the flag is adorable. Les is like Jack and he's scared of feeling inferior. He's worried that the older kids he recognizes as family won't include him because he's a kid. Les is a very persuasive kid, mostly because he can pull off some good puppy dog eyes, but also because he's very demanding of the room. Les' biggest fear is the unknown. He doesn't want to worry about losing people to something he doesn't understand, so he's very determined to figure out the unknown.

Katherine Plumber- Daughter of Bellona. Although Katherine is a Roman Demigod, she spends a lot of her time at Camp Half-blood. It messes with the Gods, but she could care less. Katherine is a very out there personality. She loves being with the people who listen to her and respect her opinion. She tries desperately to be the best she can, and it comes off as her trying to be better than everyone else unless you know her. Katherine is most comfortable in places where she feels in control. Anywhere else and she starts panicking because she doesn't want to feel out of control. Katherine is naturally brave, so she's able to keep her composure often. There have been a few, rare incidents. Katherine is absolutely terrified of feeling useless.

Crutchie Morris- Son of Tyche. Crutchie has been through a lot in his life, but he's managed to still have a great friend group at camp, a great personality, and he's still able to walk despite his leg. Crutchie is very worried about not belonging. He was crippled from a quest when he was younger, so he can't always keep up with the others or join them. Jack reassures him and finds ways to include Crutchie using magic, but Crutchie always has an underlying feeling telling him he doesn't fit. He doesn't sleep much because these thoughts keep him up, but he's adjusted to short sleep schedules. Crutchie is most comfortable with his friends because the jokes and pranks keep his thoughts from wandering. He always has his close friends there to comfort him though. Crutchie is very loyal because he realizes if he can't be the best at play fighting or competing with friends, he can make up for it by always being there for them. Despite this, Crutchie can also be troublesome by pulling the pranks. He's able to play innocent because he's such a smiley, happy person, but he doesn't occasionally join the pranking. 

Anthony "Racetrack" Higgins- Son of Hermes. Race is a prankster, it doesn't matter who his parent is. He's sneaky and witty. He's very laid back when he wants to be, but he can also be extremely chaotic. He's always charged with being the distraction during Capture the Flag. He's very fast and it's easy for him to suddenly disappear and then reappear because of this. Race is very athletic, although he's better at running than lifting weights or anything. Race does struggle sometimes because he relies too much on taking chances and it hasn't always ended well. Race is most comfortable in crowds because he can just zip through and be energetic and jumpy. Race is extremely arrogant. The amount of fights he's sparked with different cabins is unbelievable. He's caused multiple almost civil wars between the Area Cabin and other cabins. Race is very passionate and determined though. He hasn't had the best past with his human family, so he learns that he has to be determined to survive.

Sean "Spot" Conlon- Son of Ares. Spot isn't the best at socializing, but he does have a few friends. He's naturally intimidating and he demands attention in a room, but mostly due to how he holds himself. He's very confident, but he's also very protective and loyal. You can't do anything to the people he cares about without dealing with him. Although Spot is intimidating and can be very angry and physical, he's also smart. He does what he thinks is necessary to protect those who need it. He won't put people in danger without considering any other option. That doesn't mean he won't fight for what's right. Spot is naturally athletic, but he's not the best runner. He's quick with hand to hand combat, but he mostly relies on strength and training to survive. Unlike most of his siblings, Spot is very thoughtful. This is due to PTSD from family history and a quest that took someone very important to him away.  Spot is most comfortable where he can be outside and where he can breathe. If you take Spot's friendship and loyalty for granted, he will never forget about it. You might be able to mend your relationship, but he'll always have a voice telling him not to completely trust you.

Albert Dasilva- Son of Poseidon. Albert is a very free spirit, in a sense. He doesn't like feeling confined, so he's hardly ever in his cabin since it's just him and Percy whenever Percy's around. He's energetic and he wants to just be a kid with his friends. It's very common that Albert will join Race with pranks, and sometimes Crutchie, but he doesn't do it just for the sake of it. He does so he can live "dangerously" without actually putting himself in danger, unless he pranks the wrong kid. Albert doesn't always know how to communicate. He can be intimidating, but he's a smart kid and he has goals. He's never been great at explaining his goals, so he sometimes feels lost when no one understands. There are a few people who understand him because they go through the same issues. Albert easily feels at peace outside. Anywhere at camp that allows him to just be himself, he loves it. He will swim a lot because he feels safe in the water. There's just so much room for him to roam. The shore, the Lake, sometimes even the edge of the Woods. He loves it. Due to Albert's longing for freedom, he can be very careless. It only ever happens when he's too focused on his goals, but it happens. 

Romeo- Son of Aphrodite. Romeo is a very peaceful kid. He's a flirt, he's smiley, and he's very good at persuasion. Romeo is practically friends with everyone at Camp, with a few exceptions because, like all his friends, he tends to be a bit of a prankster. He can usually talk his way out of punishment, so he's fine. Romeo is just the definition of social butterfly. Romeo often struggles to keep relationships, friends or more, because he's so social. Depending on who the person is, he might seem disloyal. This makes Romeo feel unwanted and lonely, so he just becomes more social. The right people know it's just his personality and they respect that. Romeo might be social, but he hardly trusts someone unless he knows them extremely well. With being social, Romeo is very helpful. He'll help people who seem confused and he's often asked to show new campers around.

Oscar Delancey- Son of Dionysus. It's odd, since Oscar displays traits similar to Ares, but Oscar is much like his dad. Though he's the complete opposite of Les, apart from not really liking his dad, he's somewhere similar. He reflects Dionysus' darker side, in a sense. Oscar is very guarded. He's built up a wall that keeps him cut off from everyone, even Morris. He's very protective of his younger brother, although he shows it through toughening Morris up. It doesn't seem brotherly, but it's all Oscar knows since his father only ever treated them in such ways. Oscar is athletic in all areas. He arrives to be great with endurance, strength, stamina. Simply put, you want him on your team for Capture the Flag. Being this way, Oscar tends to try and be better than others to prove he's strong and tough. He doesn't want to seem weak in any sense. Training is Oscar's go to to relax and feel comfortable because he feels in control of himself and his surroundings. Even if he's training with someone else, he can put up with them long enough to put in some practice. Oscar does tend to have a short temper that makes him intimidating and unapproachable, but it only ever flares up whenever someone challenges him. He doesn't let this deter him though. He's very strong and powerful, even when faced with his fears and struggles.

[stillalicebyheart]

Enchanted

Pairing: Katherine Plumber/Sarah Jacobs Word Count: 1,984 Summary: Katherine is tired of all these newsboys trying to impress her. That is, until she meets a girl in the street with a secret comparable to her own. (Aka the au where Sarah is a bowery beauty.)

Read on AO3

You’d think that after eighteen years in the city and it’s early morning hustle and bustle, Katherine would know to pay attention to her surroundings. But she and Darcy were already late for the paper children (her coined nickname for the three of them) weekly morning breakfast at Bill’s house, all because she thought she had a scoop on something that turned out to be completely and utterly wrong. Already it’d been a long day, and it was barely 7 in the morning; they’d just stopped by her father’s office at the World long enough to let him know she had a new job assignment the next night before they were on their way again, past the circulation gates crowded with newsies ready to start their days.

There was something about the Newsboys that always made Katherine... curious. They were all very dedicated to the job, and she admired it -- they would sell, rain or shine, and keep selling until they'd sold all of their papers. What she didn't admire, though, were the cat calls and idiotic pick ups they'd try and get her with. That was part of the reason she brought Darcy along, in hopes they'd leave her alone and he'd keep her from overstepping, but...

"I've got a headline for you: cheeky boy gets nothing for his troubles."

The whole bunch of them started up again as Darcy stepped to her, smug grin in place as they walked off. "You know, I don't get why you bring me along. They're going to say something to you either way, and you always have a witty line to give back to them."

"It's the morality of it all," she simply replied with an unbelieving tone, waving a hand in front of her. "A gentleman would never call out to a lady with a suitor, and you'd think their parents would teach them that."

"Katherine, most of them don't have parents."

"Well, whoever's in charge of them should teach them manners then."

They just continued walking, arm in arm as they headed for the Hearst's place, not a care in the world until they brushed past a group of three -- a girl and who looked like her two younger brothers -- rushing towards the circulation gates. It brought Katherine to a stop, Darcy tugging on her arm for a moment before he looked at her, confused. Her eyes moved from the figures walking away to the black, hardcover book on the ground in front of her. "Hold on, Darcy." She spoke, kneeling down carefully as to not have her skirt expose anything, and grabbed the book.

"Miss!"

Thankfully, the girl -- and her brothers -- turned at the sound of Katherine's voice, and she walked forward as quick as she could in her small heels. "I think you dropped this!"

The other girl's eyes went wide as she opened her bag, then started rushing towards. "Oh, thank you so much, it must've fallen out of my bag." She smiled while Katherine held the book out. Their fingers brushed for just a brief second, and she could barely fight the grin that formed on her face.

"Of course! It's a good book, I read it a few weeks or so ago." She replied, hands interlocking in front of her. "It'd be a shame to miss out on it."

"I'm glad to hear it comes recommended." The stranger nodded with a smile, pushing the book into her bag.

Katherine laughed lightly. "Highly."

Before either of them could speak again, three distinct voices, two calling 'Sarah' and the third for Katherine, carried through the air, causing them both to look over each other's shoulders.

A small laugh fell from her -- Sarah's lips, explaining that she was taking her brothers to their first day as news boys.

And Katherine was captivated.

"Well, you'd all better get a move on then. I know those boys tend to buy out the circulation desk pretty early on."

"Yes, you're right. Thank you again." Sarah smiled, turning to walk away. "Have a good day, Katherine!"

"You as well, Sarah."

And, being her closest friend she had, Darcy of course had to make fun of the stupid grin on her face for the rest of the morning. And recount the whole encounter to Bill, who simply laughed and made a point of teasing Katherine just as much.

A full thirteen hours later, Sarah was still in Katherine's mind. Something about the girl just stuck with her, the fact that she made a point of making sure her brothers made it to work or that she had been so thankful about getting her book back or... Maybe it had to do with the fact that even in a plain brown dress and grey shawl and her hair pulled back in a simple way, she was beautiful. And sure, that wasn't what a girl should be thinking, but she'd done research; history showed that there were plenty of girls who liked other girls -- especially writers. Maybe it was a trick of the trade. Either way, she had the girl on her mind almost non-stop for the last day, even as she walked into the Bowery -- the place that cleared her mind most.

It wasn't a place Katherine frequented, mainly because her father saw it as 'improper' for a girl her age to go, but the whole atmosphere was... incredible to her. The owner was always so nice, the girls were always dedicated to their performance (and not to mention, gorgeous) and sweet whenever she came in to review their new show, always blowing her away with their talent.

"Oh, Katherine, darling! You're finally here, toss me my brush, would you?"

And she always felt so welcomed around here. "Sorry I'm late, Miss Medda, my father --"

"Now now, no 'father' talk in here! You're working, aren't you? Pulitzer doesn't matter around here, just you and your talented work." Medda spoke, looking at her from the mirror and smiling. Katherine handed her the brush, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

"As you wish... Any news I should know before I go for interviews?" She asked as she leaned on the back of Medda's chair. She wasn't here often, but when she was, it made everything better in Katherine's eyes. Medda was very motherly, treating Katherine the same way she did her girls, as if they were all her kids.

"We've got a new girl, Marie. Big sweetheart, working to help support her family since they're a bit down on their luck. Got two brothers that work for your pops, I think." Medda gave her a look -- one that read 'you have to talk to her'. "Can't promise she'll give you anything worth publishing, but she's a great dancer. You should introduce yourself."

Of course, Katherine knew 'Marie' wasn't her real name. All the girls had code names to keep the creeps from coming around and trying to backstage; using their real names was a sign of trust, someone that they wanted there. Her eyes rolled, a light blush coming to her cheeks as she used her fingers to brush her bangs straight in the mirror. "I'll have to seek her out then. See you after the show?"

"Of course, dear. Now, get a move on, you only get so much time before you need to be in your box."

Katherine simply laughed, patting Medda's shoulder as she turned to the door. "I'm going, I'm going. Have a good show, ma'am."

It didn't matter how many time Katherine had wandered through the theater, for an article or for an escape, it always awed her. It didn't look too big from the outside, but inside it felt almost like a whole other world: stairs and stairs leading to different rooms all winding upward. She'd only been up to the top a few times, but it was magical to see from the height above the city.

After a few flights of stairs she arrived at the familiar door, knocking twice as she readjusted her small bag. She'd been fully prepared to greet a familiar face, or at least the new dancer, with a smile and polite greeting. But when the door opened to reveal the girl she'd met and effectively been thinking about for the last thirteen hours... Katherine Pulitzer was lost for words. And apparently Sarah was too, since she just stood there looking at Katherine for a few seconds before she spoke.

"... Sarah?"

All at once, the room fell silent as Katherine and Sarah stared at each other, and all of the girls looked at Katherine.

"No, silly, that's Marie." One of the girls smiled, looping an arm around 'Marie's waist as she not-so-subtlety glared daggers into Katherine. She took the message and smiled softly, holding a hand out to her.

"Katherine Plumber. Writer for the New York Sun." She introduced herself easily, professionally, as if she didn't know the other. Sarah smiled, and for a moment Katherine felt her knees go weak. "Would you care to do an interview? Completely anonymous."

Sarah looked at the other girl, who gave her a small nod with a soft smile. "Sure." She replied, stepping forward. "There's a place around back, we can talk there?"

Katherine nodded, setting her bag down and retrieving her pencil and notebook before following her. She had already made up her mind to not ask about why she was there or if her brothers knew; it wasn't her place. She'd just met this girl, after all, and even though she was the prettiest person Katherine had ever laid eyes on, she knew there were certain lines not meant to be crossed. Sarah easily weaved her way through the theater, pausing when they'd made it to a little closet on the opposite of the stage, and turned to look at her with a slightly panicked look.

"You can't tell anyone you know me. Or that I'm working here. Especially my brothers, David would throw a frolic. And Mamma--"

Katherine smiled gently, placing her hand on Sarah's shoulder. "Don't worry. I won't tell a soul, I promise."

A look of relief washed over Sarah's face, sighing audibly. "Thank you. I don't know how I'd be able to explain it."

"Your secret is safe with me." She didn't know why, but she leaned into Sarah with a grin. "And just so we're even, I'll tell you my secret. So you can expose me if I do."

Sarah looked intrigued at that and grinned, leaning toward Katherine. "Oh, do tell."

She paused, having to compose herself as she realized how close they were; practically chest to chest, in the back of a theater, and something in her said she could trust Sarah. So she did, speaking in a soft voice. "My father is Joseph Pulitzer."

Sarah's eyes widened, blinking a few times. "Oh... Why are you here of all places then? Wouldn't that look bad?"

"Well..." She shrugged, looking away as she blushed a little. "I've never been able to resist pretty girls. Especially nice ones."

Katherine swore she heard Sarah laugh a little and looked back up, astonished that she wasn't running off to tell a police officer. Even more surprising was when Sarah leaned in and pressed a kiss to Katherine's cheek. "And I've never been able to resist smart girls, so we're both in trouble."

They stood there in silence for a moment, Katherine unsure of what to say for the first time in her life and Sarah just smiling, until the manager started calling for them to take places. They both looked in the direction and took an immediate step back from each other before laughing in sync.

"Enjoy the show, Katherine."

And even though there was that annoying newsboy trying to steal her attention once again, Katherine did enjoy; she couldn't even keep her eyes off the bowery beauty on stage that had so easily enchanted her.

[swanqueeneverafter]

What Dreams May Come, Pt.35

Dream World. Wonderland. The Infinite Maze. (Ella makes her way through the maze, turning this way and that. Following a sign that reads: 'Tea Party', Ella approaches a door and pushes it open. Walking towards a long table with several chairs placed around it, Ella looks to the head of the table, where the brother and sister are seated.) Ella: "Alice?" Alice: (Smiles:) "That's right." Ella: "And you must be Will?" Will: (Stands:) "Will Scarlett, at your service." Alice: "And, you are?" Ella: "My name is Ella. Tiana and I came to find you, but there was only enough potion left for one. She said you two had a plan to rescue Henry?" Will: “Aye, and it just might work, too.”

Emma's Dreamscape. Blanchard Apartment. (Mary Margaret enters carrying a large box.) Mary Margaret: "It's here!" Regina: "Oh, hooray." (Placing the box on the table, Mary Margaret steps back to watch as Emma takes out the wedding dress.) Emma: "Oh, wow. Mary Margaret! It's beautiful." Regina: "Yep, just as awful as I remember." (Suddenly, the dress starts turning black.) Emma: "What the hell?" Regina: "Hm, actually that's not bad." Evil Queen: (Appearing beside them:) "I never was a fan of white weddings." Regina: "Oh thank god. Finally someone with a little taste around here." Emma: (Thoroughly confused:) "Roni?" Mary Margaret: "What happened to you? And what are you wearing?" Evil Queen: "Shut up, both of you. I've come to rescue you." Regina: "It's about damn time." Emma: "Rescue me? I'm getting married this afternoon." Evil Queen: "No, you're not. I've already woken Prince Charming and he's dealing with your 'fiance' as we speak." Regina: "Oh sure, I have to sit through endless hours of Snow gushing over wedding arrangements but David beating up the pirate, that I miss.” Evil Queen: "Come on, I'm taking you back to your wife."

Meanwhile... (Killian stands staring at the white suit in front of him, unsure about it.) Killian: (To himself:) "I'm sure Emma won't be too disappointed if I don't wear that monstrosity." David: (Entering:) "I don't think she'll mind at all." Killian: (Spins around, facing him:) "You? I thought you'd got smart and left this town." David: "Oh, I'm not going anywhere just yet. Now I may not be able to take my revenge on the real Hook, but you'll do just fine." Killian: "Listen mate, Storybrooke has a wonderful psych ward just waiting for you." David: (Shoving him against a wall, with a knife to his throat:) "Shut up! You might not have killed my father, but you abused my daughter and that cannot go unanswered any longer." Killian: (Pleading:) "Don't kill me, please." David: "Don't worry, I won't. But by the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging me to do just that." Dream World. Wonderland. Infinite Maze. Continued. Alice: (Springing from her chair:) "Oh! Would you like a cup of tea?" (Looking down at the table, Ella notices her mother’s matching locket draped over the teapot.) Ella: (Picking it up:) “Where did you get this?”

Alice: (Grabbing Ella’s hand:) “Give that back. That's not yours.” Ella: “It's my mother's.” (At this, Will and Alice exchange looks.) Alice: “Oh, you're that Ella. You're Cecelia's Ella?” Ella: “You know my mother?” Alice: “Oh, yes.” Ella: “Do you know where I could find her? I have some questions, starting with why she never came back.” Alice: “Oh. That.” (They each take a seat at the table.) Ella: “What? What do you know?” Alice: (Hesitates:) "Well it... it..." Will: (Taking his own seat:) "What do you know about Lord Morpheus, Ella?" Ella: "He... He's the one who has Henry?" Will: "Yes, and he also rules over this land. Not just here, but where you're from too." Ella: "My father and I ruled our kingdom together before he died. I've never heard of Morpheus until you people arrived." Will: "What if I told you that in your world, Morpheus was responsible for all of it? The birds, the trees, the people, everything. He created it all." Ella: "You're talking about God?" Will: "A god. The god of dreams." Ella: (Looking back and forth between Alice and Will, confused and frustrated:) "What's that got to do with what happened to my mother?"

Alice: "We're getting to that. Please, just listen." Will: "Alice and I met your mother during one of the Mad Hatter's tea parties." Ella: (Scoffs:) "She left her family for a tea party?" Alice: (Extends her arm:) "Look familiar?” Ella: “Yeah, my father had a mark like that. What is it?” Will: “It’s part of the Curse of the Poisoned Heart.” Alice: “It appears when you’re touched by the one you can’t be with.” Ella: “But if... if my father had the same mark, my mother’s heart was poisoned, too. (Realising:) She never stopped loving us. She left to protect us.” Alice: “Trust me, if your touch could kill the one you love, you’d want to be lost, too.” Ella: “But that doesn’t tell me where my mother is now, what happened to her?” Will: (Sighs:) “As you know, Alice and I are not from your world. When we were still under the curse, the Hatter came to Alice in her dreams and offered her a way for us to be together. A way to see and touch each other without having to worry about the effects of the curse.” Ella: “How?” Alice: “Through shared dreaming. As we would sleep, the Hatter and his lovely wife, Sarah, would collect all of us who were affected by the curse and we’d meet, in our dreams, for these tea parties.” Ella: “So why was I never invited?” Alice: “Cecelia would watch us as morning came and we’d be forced to part from one another. She couldn’t bear the idea of having to go through that or put you through it.” Will: “So, she asked the Hatter to take her with him, to our world.” Ella: “Why, so she could forget about my father and me?” Alice: (Shaking her head:) “To find a way to be with you again, properly, as a family.” Will: “Jefferson was reluctant at first, but Sarah asked him to consider what he would do if it were their daughter. And so, he took your mother with them after the very last tea party we’d have.” Ella: “Why did the tea parties stop?” Will: “Morpheus. He was so angry that Jefferson had taken someone from his world, that he ripped Sarah away from Jefferson and their child, never to be seen again.” Alice: “Jefferson couldn’t risk losing his daughter as well, so he swore never to return. (Sighs, reminiscently:) Those parties were the only thing that kept me going in my tower for the first few months.” Will: “Me too.” Ella: “So, is my mother still out there, in your world?” Alice: “We don’t know. Jefferson never said what happened to her.” Ella: (Sighs:) “Okay. (Rallies:) So, what’s your plan to save Henry?” Alice: “Ah, glad you asked. (Brightens:) Will and I have been gathering ingredients that can be only be found in Wonderland.” Will: “Luckily, that includes this world’s version, too.” Ella: “Ingredients for what?” Will: “A sleeping potion.” Alice: “I’m going to find Henry through my dreams.” Ella: “Your dreams? Why would that work?” Alice: “If the dead can enter the dreams of the guilty, why can’t the living? Awhile ago, I unintentionally trapped Henry in a bad situation and I still feel responsible for it. (Brightly:) So, hopefully I can use my guilt to find him.” Alice’s Dreamscape. A Cave. (Struggling with his restraints, Henry looks up to see Alice suddenly standing across from him.) Henry: "Alice? (Struggles:) Can you get me out of this, please?" Alice: (Shrugging:) "Out of what?" (Henry is immediately released from his bonds.) Henry: "Cool, thanks. Wait, are you really here? Did you follow me into my dreams, like Hook?" Alice: "Hook's here too?" Henry: "Yeah, he was with me when Morpheus took us." Alice: "Well I don't know where he is, you’re the only one who can access my dreams right now and we've got to get you out of here." Henry: "Right. (Walks toward her:) Hey, where are my moms?" Alice: (Rolls her eyes:) "No, no, you're welcome. You don't need to thank me for rescuing you at all(!) Henry, almost the entire population of the united realms has come to save you." Henry: "Really? Awesome. But my moms-" Alice: "Ugh! They're trying to get here, okay? Trust me. (Throws down a magic bean:) Come on, I'll explain once we’re safely out of here."

Henry's Dreamscape. Kingdom Of Valencia. (At the castle, Jasmine has decided to take charge of things for the time being.) Jasmine: “I want to thank everyone for pitching in and collecting things we can use as weapons. But we may need to sort through and pick out the best bits. Okay? Right. (Digging through the pile of would-be weapons:) Pots and pans. Very good for bonking heads. A couple of spatulas, a whisk. Weren't there any knives in the kitchen? No? Shame.” Man: “I've got a potato. It's very pointy.” Woman: “I didn't find any weapons, but I'm really going to give those Valencians a piece of my mind.” Husband: “Her words can be very cutting.” Ruby: (Turning to Mulan:) "Okay, are you ready to lead this army?" Mulan: "Me? I don't think so." Ruby: "You're the obvious choice, Mulan. You've served in armies, trained warriors. You're perfect for the job." Mulan: (Shakes her head:) "No, I'm not. There's no way I can get these people ready in time. I don't have the ability to inspire these people to follow me into battle." Ruby: "Well then if not you, who? No offense to Jasmine but, well... look." Jasmine: “Well, we don't have much in the way of weapons. But, uh, we got grit. And determination. Yah!” Grumpy: (To the other dwarves:) “I mean, it's a bit desperate, isn't it?” Ruby: "See?" Mulan: "No. We need someone else." Ruby: "There isn't anyone. Tiana's gone missing, the Camelot and Dun Broch armies have disappeared. Who else is there?" Mulan: (Taking out a magic bean:) "These beans can take us anywhere, right?" Ruby: "I think so." Mulan: "Even back in time, perhaps?" Ruby: "I'm not sure they work that way. But we are in the Dream World, so anything should be possible. Why, where are you thinking of going?" Mulan: "Back... to a time of Ancient Gods, Warlords and Kings." Ruby: "Mulan..." Mulan: "A land in turmoil cried out for a hero." Ruby: "You can't be serious?" Mulan: "Well why not? If anything in this world is possible, we'd be foolish not to try. She has everything we need in a leader. The power, the passion-" Ruby: "The danger?" Mulan: (Nods:) "Her courage will change the world. Come on, what do you think?" Ruby: "We're gonna ask both of them though, right?" Mulan: "Of course. Can't have one without the other. They're a team. Like you and I." Ruby: (Smiles:) "All right, let's go for it."

Throne Room. (While Emma paces, Zelena and Robin have a heart to heart.) Robin: "I don't see what the big deal is. He's an excellent fighter, unbeatable with a bow and knows what it's like to be on a battlefield. With those attributes alone, he should be leading this army." Zelena: "Absolutely not. We have no idea who this man is or why he agreed to help us. He could just as easily turn on us and fight for the Valencians." Robin: "Mom, you are totally letting your experience with Morpheus cloud your judgement. This Robin Hood isn't like that, at all." Zelena: "You don't know that, sweetheart. This man isn't your father." Robin: (Sighs:) "Of course he's not. My father is dead. But that does not mean the man I convinced to help us is not a good person. At the very least he can help me teach others how to use a bow and handle a sword." Zelena: "What do you think, Emma?" Emma: (Stops pacing:) "We don't have a lot of options. I say, if he's willing to fight alongside us, we should let him. And the more archers we have the better, because I do not like our chances out there in hand to hand combat against those soldiers." Snow White: "Well how about one more?" (Emma turns to see her parents standing behind her, having just stepped through a portal.) Emma: "Mom! Dad! (She is enveloped in a warm hug from her mother, while David cradles Emma's head in his hand:) Glad to have you back." Snow White: "Oh, it's good to be back." Regina: "Never thought I'd see that. (Emma turns and beams at her wife:) The sight of the Charmings hugging... well, me." Emma: "Regina." Zelena: "Wait! (Moves to stand between them:) Before you two start kissing each other, I think it's best for everyone's psyches if you were back in your own bodies. (Pulls out the pouch and sprinkles the fairy dust over both of them:) There, that ought to do it." Emma: (Back in her own body:) "Now that's a sight for sore eyes." (Quickly closing the gap between them, Emma kisses Regina deeply, relieved to be reunited.) Regina: (As they part:) "You're not mad?" Emma: "Seriously? You sacrificed yourself, all the while giving me the chance to experience what it felt like to be carrying our baby inside me.” Regina: (Corrects her:) “Inside me.” Emma: (Nods:) “Right. (Taking her hands:) I will never be able to find the words to tell you how much that means to me. (They kiss again:) But if you ever do anything like that again, I will kill you." Regina: (Chuckles, through tears:) "Yes, dear. (Wiping her eyes:) So... the Evil Queen saved us. I did not see that coming, did you?" David: (Shakes his head:) "I can honestly say, I think I've seen it all now." Regina: "How did you get her to help you?" Emma: "Oh, (Looks to Zelena and winks:) it was a family effort."

[evdarcy]

An Unusual Hero C4S2

Please remember, this is unedited and unfinished, but will hopefully fill in the holes that were left and answer some questions without leaving too many others. HOWEVER I will answer all and any questions if you want to leave me a comment.

Next update - Tuesday 20/04/2021

Sarah had never been more grateful for the adrenaline that was pumping through her veins as she was when she ran though those doors and into the sudden sunlight, which briefly blinded them as they ran out the building. She stumbled only slightly, allowing Luc to run past her, but she found her feet quickly and was right on his tail.

She’d expected the corridor to lead to somewhere within the hotel, so it took her a brief moment to figure out where they were and she thanked the Heavens that it happened to be exactly where she needed to be. She glanced around the staff car park and saw the Volvo sitting almost right against the hotel, less than fifty feet from where they stood. She threw her torch away and grabbed her gun from the small of her back again.

‘There,’ she said to Luc. She gave him a nudge in the right direction and pointed with her piece towards the vehicle. The man glanced at her over his shoulder and frowned as he looked around, searching for someone.

‘Where’s Phil?’ he asked as he paused in his step and tried to catch his breath.

Oh. She’d heard the other man grunt and hit the wall just as they had turned right. She imagined the Demon’s men had been shooting blindly down the corridor through the gap in the door to try and slow them down.

Sarah nudged him forward again as she realised there was no point in pussyfooting around; she put it as plainly as she could.

‘Probably a bullet in the back.’

Luc stumbled at her words. ‘What?’

‘We do not have time for this,’ Sarah said as she hurried towards the waiting car. She knew she was being short with him, but her words where the truth; the Demon’s men wouldn’t be far behind. The star needed to pull himself together and think fast or he’d get them both killed.

She ran her hand under the car’s wheel arch and came back with the key. Luc stood at the back of the car and Sarah could tell he was calculating if she would shoot him in the back if he made a run for it.

‘Look, if you want to leave, that’s up to you,’ she told him as she popped the lock on the boot. ‘But I can guarantee you now, he’ll find you very quickly and kill you.’

‘He’d have to get through my team first.’ She wanted to scoff at the words, at the naivety he had. He’d been protected by his team for years, he had no reason to doubt their ability, but he had no idea who he was up against and what he was letting himself—and everyone he loved—in for.

‘David—Agent Burton—was one of the highest agents the US had to offer, and they got to him. They got to him through his family—’

‘I don’t have any.’

‘You have a wife’

‘They can have her,’ Luc sneered, his upper lip curling with contempt and disgust. Sarah’s eyebrows arched in surprise; everyone knew that Luc and Linda Truman were Hollywood’s most loved up couple. He went on and on about her during interviews and at panels, why the hell—

She shook her head; she didn’t have time to dwell. Instead, she praised Commander Cowley as she lifted the lid of the Volvo’s boot and saw the three military duffel bags and an assortment of loose weapons in the back of the car.

‘Oh, Jack, you legend,’ she whispered, grateful it had been the commander in charge of the transport rather than David. She grabbed one of the shotguns and checked it was loaded. When she saw the round in the chamber, she passed it to Luc who automatically rechecked it. Sarah raised her brow; she’d half expected him to drop the thing.

‘Listen, the bastard won’t be that bothered about adults—your wife or otherwise. Those he’ll just kill without hesitation. It’ll be kids—you close to anyone with kids?’ She watched his face drain white and his eyes widen at the thought. ‘Yeah, exactly. Think about what he’ll do to them.’

She sighed heavily as she began her next spiel. ‘Look, your best bet is with me; I’ll keep you as safe as possible. I can tell you now, you go it alone, you go back to your friends and family then you won’t last long, and neither will they. He won’t bother torturing you, he’ll go after those you’re close to. He’ll cut them up and pull them apart—while you watch—to see what you know, how much you know, and how you know it. He’ll kill them one by one until you tell him where I am, and trust me even if you did know where I was and how to get me—which you won’t—giving me up wouldn’t stop him. As soon as he has what he wants he’ll kill you and take any kids you’re close to for his trafficking ring—boy or girl. There’s a big market for both. The sick wankers.’

She didn’t look at him. Refused to try and influence him any further. He’d be a fool to go it alone, but she wouldn’t force him. As long as he kept his mouth shut about her to the press before he got taken by the sicko, she had no problem with sending him off to his own fate.

Okay, that was a big fat lie. She had a huge problem with doing that. Forgetting the fact that she’d lusted after him for over a decade, she didn’t want any one else to die at that dick head’s whim. And, when he was captured by the Demon or his cronies, Luc’s body—when they found it—would certainly not be an attractive one.

And it would be one more name to add to her list.

Shit.

She checked through the bags to distract her from that image and to quash the guilt that was already beginning to build. It was his choice, she reminded herself, just as she had been given hers, and it wasn’t as if she could really offer him much.

She wasn’t lying when she’d promised to keep him as safe as possible, but it wasn’t likely to really be much longer than what he’d get with his team. However, if he was with her when the bastards caught up to them, at least they wouldn’t be taking anyone else with them.

She sighed with relief as she found money, clothes, weapons, ammunition, and explosives in the duffel bags. But no phone. Dammit. She touched the pendant hidden under her top at the discovery. That had to be the first item on their list of things they needed to get.

‘Okay. I’m in,’ he finally agreed, snapping the shotgun shut again. Sarah nodded to acknowledge she’d heard him, eyes on her hands as she quickly took some of the C4 from one of the bags before she heaved it out the car and gave it to him. She let him throw the bag over his shoulder before she handed him a second.

Sarah glanced around the car park with a keen eye, looking for the perfect get away vehicle as she tried to recall what Jack had taught her. It had to be older for there to be fewer electrical issues; no trackers, no GPS. She’d prefer nothing before 1995.

‘That black Hyundai’—she pointed towards a small nondescript hatchback across the lot—‘head to it, stay low, wait for me there. If anyone comes out of those doors lay down a line of fire. You got eight shells in there, make ‘em count.’

Sarah didn’t watch him leave, instead she turned back to the car and grabbed a leg holster and the Heckler and Koch Mark 23. She slapped the holster to her thigh and secured the larger gun—her actual preferred firearm—within it before she went to work repacking the other pieces. She pulled the final bag from the car and returned her attention to the explosives and charges.

She packed the C4 tightly against the fuel tank, stabbing the charges into it and paused for a moment considering her set up—was that too much or too little?—before she shook herself out of it. She didn’t have time to worry, it would just have to do. She clipped the detonator to her hip and slammed the boot shut.

Slinging the bag over her shoulder as she turned, she froze when the double doors flew open once more.

Just as it had for her and Luc, the unexpected sunlight dazzled the Demon’s men and gave Sarah an advantage. She clocked each face in the blink of an eye and saw that the prick wasn’t with them. She hadn’t expected him to be. He’d probably ran the moment they blew the door into the room and noticed that she wasn’t there. She hoped with the myriad of cameras throughout the hotels and the city itself, that at least one of them had picked him up. He couldn’t be that good, surely?

A ping of optimism hit Sarah’s heart at the idea that he may have got sloppy in his chase for her. The fact that her initial escape from his clutches had so enraged him he’d personally come to the most watched city in the world, gave her hope that he would get even sloppier in the future with this second near miss.

Sarah ripped the Mark 23 from its holster and fired a shot at the group before ducking down behind the Volvo. The dull bang of the shotgun sounded from somewhere to her right and she knew Luc was doing as she’d asked. She weaved through the cars counting the flat-bangs Luc managed to get off between the hail of gun fire from the AK-103s. When Luc had made five shots she pulled the cover from the stick clipped to her hip and her thumb found the button.

The explosion was deafening and the blast knocked her to the floor between the cars.

Okay, so too much.

Her world titled to one side as she tried to push herself up to her hands and knees. She couldn’t hear anything save the rush of blood in her ears, the pounding of her heart, and the ragged intake of her breath. Her feet kept slipping out from under her as she tried to get up from her knees, and she grabbed onto the wing mirror of the nearest car to stop herself from hitting the ground again.

Sound rushed at her from every angle as her ears corrected themselves; the screaming of people, the wails of alarms, and the creaking of metals as they ground against one another assaulted her senses and almost deafened her again. The heat of the fire from the decimated car scorched her skin as she rose from between the two vehicles that had shielded her from the blast.

And as she turned to face the destruction she’d caused, she almost lost the contents of her stomach.

Dozens of cars had been blown and lifted by her bomb. Some had landed on others, some were scattered across the hotel’s gardens, but worst of all were the ones that had smashed into the hotel, leaving holes in the structure.

She swallowed as she tore her eyes away, and took a deep breath before beginning her dash across the parking lot once more. She ducked and weaved as she went, trying to avoid the remnants of the Volvo and everything else falling from the sky.

When she finally reached the little black Excel, she pulled her small metal tools from the back of her boot and began to work on the lock, surprising herself when she managed it first time. Jack would have never believed it, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

‘Get in,’ she shouted over the wail of alarms and the roar of flames as she threw her duffel bag over the front seats. She climbed in the driver’s seat and Luc followed suit. Before he even had the door closed, Sarah had hot-wired the little hatchback and threw it into gear.

They peeled out the parking lot with a squeal of tyres and the smell of rubber chasing them.

‘Do you have a phone?’ she asked Luc as they tore down South Las Vegas Boulevard. They passed people crowding the pavements, craning their necks as they tried to catch a glimpse of what had happened at the old hotel. Sarah caught sight of a pillar of smoke in the review mirror, a black column reaching high into the sky.

Yeah, she had definitely fucked that explosion up…

Luc shifted in his seat and pulled from his pocket a flashy iPhone—it looked brand new.

‘Toss it,’ Sarah told him. ‘Out the window.’

‘What?’

‘They can use it to track you. Your wife is probably on the same account as you and will be able to—’

She didn’t need to finish her sentence before the phone was gone. Again, surprise etched across her face, but she said nothing. Instead, she filed it away for later, when she’d have a chance to ask the star anything she liked and he’d bloody well answer her.

The whole set up stank to high heaven, and while she was 99.99 percent sure Luc had nothing to do with it, there was still that tiny chance he’d known. There was also a chance that someone who worked for him had been involved, and she needed to know if there was, who that might be.

‘Where we going?’ he asked as she turned off The Strip and onto the I-15. She shrugged and turned on the radio, Free’s “All Right Now” began blearing from the crappy standard speakers.

Oh, the irony, she thought as she focused on the road and put her foot down; she wanted as much distance between her and the carnage she had just created as possible.

She didn’t need any more names to add to her growing list of failures.

Any questions, please drop them in the comments. Next update on Tuesday!

[tricksters-captain]

Negan imagines - The Blame Part 14

AN: We’re back in business, baby!  So, I know I’m a few episodes behind but don’t worry, I should catch up fairly quickly. Man, it feels good to be writing Daddy Negan again. 

Catch up here: (Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)(Part 9)(Part 10)(Part 11)(Part 12)(Part 13)

Overall Summary: You’re the one who accidentally led the Saviours to the group cause Negan has an interest in you. Rick’s daughter.

In this chapter: You talk with Sasha and you confront Negan on what you really think. 

Pairing: Negan x reader, Father!Rick x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 1, 800ish

Warnings: Some strong language, mentions of rape

The sound of gunfire and yelling should be something you’re used to by now but for some reason it was overwhelming you.

You held your gun up as you turned the corner to the noisiest part of the sanctuary. This is where the intruder must have been cornered.

“Get her into a goddamn cell!” Negan was ahead of you, as the men were restraining the mystery attacker and he barked orders.

Her?

You heart plummeted when you caught a glimpse of the woman they were dragging away. You swore it could have been Sasha. You prayed it wasn’t.

“Alright, panic over!” Negan turned back to you and was yelling so that all the saviours calmed down.

He pulled you under his arm and was urging you the opposite way of where they were taking the prisoner.

You knew there was no point in fighting this now. You’d have to wait until morning to see her.

“Let’s get to bed and we can sort this mess in the morning.” Negan took you to his room and you hesitated to go to bed. “What’s the matter?” Negan rubbed his hands up and down your arms as he guided you backwards towards the large mattress.

“I swear I...’ You closed your mouth and shook your head.

“You did good, baby, but right now, we’re gonna get some shut eye and deal with that in the morning.” Negan swooped down and lifted your legs so that he was carrying you bridal style and then dumped you onto the bed, crawling on top of you and nibbling the skin on your neck.

You dug your nails into his shoulders and arched yourself against him.

“Atta girl.” He purred, running his hands down your sides and gripping onto your hips which were pushing against his own.

You really couldn’t resist him, even with all the hate and negativity you threw at him today, you couldn’t help but end up back in his bed.

In the morning, you showered with Negan but barely touched your breakfast as you thought about Sasha.

“I want to see her.” You said openly as you leant against the kitchen counter top.

“What?” Negan asked as he threw his leather jacket onto the arm chair.

“Sasha. I know it was her who broke in last night, I saw her as your men took her away.”  You confronted him.

Negan nodded his head.

“Ahh.” He approached you, taking hold of your hips and pulling himself towards your scantily-clad body. “Now, I just can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” You furrowed your eyebrow but to Negan you didn’t look angry, you just looked cute.

“Because there are certain––”

“––Do you trust me?” You cut him off, and Negan groaned.

“Baby––”

“––Do you trust me?” You repeated – more sternly this time.

Negan stared at you for a second in silence, licking his lower lip as he thought.

“Two minutes. Supervised.” He told you, you had to refrain from jumping in the air with that triumph but instead you let yourself squeeze out of Negan’s clutch to head towards the door.

You walked towards the holding cells or ‘cages’ as some would call them with Negan’s arm around your waist and his other swinging Lucille. His two favourite girls, he would say.

When you reached the cells, Sasha’s door was open and you heard a voice coming from the open dark hole.

“Fighting's just gonna make it last longer. Which, for the record, is fine by me.” The man’s voice made you feel sick to your stomach but before you could rush forward to see what the hell was going on, Negan was already there.

He smashed Lucille against the metal door with a loud clanging noise and yelled.

“Hey!” He barked. “What the hell are you doing in here?” He asked, glaring at the saviour. You lingered behind Negan, looking past him to Sasha, who was staring right back at you.

“Negan, sir––”The man spluttered.

“––Do you really think I need you to answer that? I can see that you're trying to rape this woman. You were trying to rape this woman, weren't you? This is some unacceptable behaviour. Rape is against the rules here. I wouldn't wanna be somewhere where it wasn't. Someone in charge who let something like that fly...Whew.” Negan took a knife from his belt and the man suddenly started to panic. You and Sasha quickly lost your contact as you both looked up at Negan now. “David. You really crossed a line here.”

“I'm sorry, sir.” The man blubbered. Negan took a moment, pulling his lips into a thin line.

He plunged the knife into David’s neck and you tried your best not to react but you felt yourself wince as your eyelids fluttered and look away.

“You know what? I do not accept your apology.”Negan stated, he pulled the knife from the mans neck and the body collapsed with a thud.

“Baby, would you get Sasha a new shirt, give me a minute to talk to her alone.” Negan leant back, pointing the blood soaked knife at you.

You don’t move. You don’t look at him.

“Now please.” Negan lowered his voice but kept his cheery tone.

You let yourself look up at him before turning on your heel and leaving.

When you returned to the cell, Negan was closing the door.

“I need to talk to her.” You reminded him. Negan hesitated before nodding.

“One minute.”

You entered the cell and handed Sasha the t-shirt, one of Negan’s men offered you a lamp then closed the cell door.

They clearly don’t trust you – you thought.

“Hey.” You whispered.

You looked down at Sasha then got down to your knees so you were the same level. You weren’t Negan or the saviours. Sasha had to remember that.

“Why are you here?” You questioned her motives. Why the hell did she come in all guns blazing like she did?!

“I could ask you the same thing.” Sasha kept her hard exterior which made you feel a sharp twinge of pain in your chest. This woman who was one of your best friends, now nothing but a woman who hated you.

Things were never the same with Sasha after the death of Abe but you at least expected her to scream, shout or spit at you for what you are doing.

“I’m keeping him happy. If he’s satisfied, distracted even, then you guys have way more of a chance of doing something that actually has an affect.” You tried to defend yourself because you knew that ‘I’m trying to keep the family’ safe just wasn’t enough for Sasha.

“By doing this?!” Sasha gestured at the dress that clung to you.

“You don’t understand. It’s my fault the saviours found us in the first place, it’s only fit if I am the one here now.” You felt yourself start to tremble, tears filling your eyes.

“Abraham wouldn’t have wanted this.” Sasha faced away from you,

“Abe wouldn’t have wanted you throwing yourself to the wolves either. I didn’t want you to do this. Sasha, I lost Abe and I can’t lose you too.” You moved closer to the woman and even in the poor light, you could see her eyes start to glisten too.

“You’ll be fine.” Sasha said quietly,

“I won’t. You were my best friend.” You whispered, pushing back the tears that threatened to spill. Sasha caved in and groaned, pulling you towards her into a tight embrace.

“You will be. You’re one of the strongest damn people I know.” Sasha pulled away and stroked your face lightly with her thumb.

“You know I’d never ask unless I was desperate but please, make the smart decision here.” You begged, but you already knew her choice, it was the same exact choice you’d make if you were her.

“Time’s up, kid.” The door opened and one of Negan’s men commanded you to leave.

Later

“What do you think then, darlin’? She ready to join the cause?” Negan asks you, walking up from behind and snaking his arm around your torso.

“I doubt she’ll say yes.” You said openly, “She’s not the type. I wasn’t the type.” You move away from Negan and he chuckles.

“What made you change your mind?” He cocks his eyebrows at you as he asks.

You pause, hesitating whether to answer that honestly.

“You.” You finally admit.

“And you don’t think I could do it for Sarah?” Negan opens his arms out, swinging Lucille.

“Sasha. And no. She may be like me but she ain’t me. I chose you, I don’t know why but I will always choose you. It’s some fucked chemical in my head telling me to. For some reason, I see you differently to the rest of my group and I know I shouldn’t and I know I should I hate you but I.. I don’t.” And with that, you watch Negan’s smile drop and you leave the room.

Shortly after you spoke with Negan, word spread that the new girl aka Sasha has picked the right side after all.

You didn’t believe that but you kept your distance from everyone so you didn’t have to show it.

“You, little lady, are more trouble to hunt down that I expected.” Negan’s voice startled you slightly when he found you.

You had hidden yourself up on one of the metal balconies that hang over the sanctuary all afternoon.

“Not talking? I get it.” Negan sat beside you and you immediately looked down at your hands.

You heard the older man exhale deeply and his hand came up to his face, rubbing the stubble that was growing back.

“Is that really how you feel, darlin?” Negan asked, referring to your confession earlier on that day.

You remained silent.

“Well, loyalty is appreciated, you should know that.” Negan then softened his voice, “I want you to know that from the moment I saw you I knew that I wanted you more than I have ever wanted anything in my whole damn life.”

You, again, chose not to react.

“Point is, you aren't the only one feeling like this.” Negan admitted. “I need you.”

You lifted your chin and glanced towards the man.

He reached up and took hold of the side of your face with his leather clad hand and smiled.

“You are mine. I choose you every-damn-time.” Negan leant it and stole a kiss. You closed your eyes for a second and pretended that this was a sweeter moment than the reality of it.

“Now, we got a big day tomorrow. Shall we?”Negan stood and offered you his hand. And you took it.

(PART 15) 

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[dfroza]

how many give thought

that we’re being called up to a heavenly wedding?

for there are many who comprise the Bride (the Queen) of the True King

and rebirth of the heart through the Son is the only way “Home”

and marriage on earth is a mirroring of this. and did you know that it is not permissible in Love for a man to be sexual with another man, or a woman with a woman, as defined by gender at birth? this is spiritual truth, although some may disagree.

and life truly begins at the genesis spark of conception as a tiny seed (to be...)

and we are meant to respond to the call of the heart to “believe...”

and this is the beautiful mystery of becoming a child of our Creator which is what Paul describes in Today’s reading of the 9th chapter of Romans:

[God Is Calling His People]

At the same time, you need to know that I carry with me at all times a huge sorrow. It’s an enormous pain deep within me, and I’m never free of it. I’m not exaggerating—Christ and the Holy Spirit are my witnesses. It’s the Israelites . . . If there were any way I could be cursed by the Messiah so they could be blessed by him, I’d do it in a minute. They’re my family. I grew up with them. They had everything going for them—family, glory, covenants, revelation, worship, promises, to say nothing of being the race that produced the Messiah, the Christ, who is God over everything, always. Oh, yes!

Don’t suppose for a moment, though, that God’s Word has malfunctioned in some way or other. The problem goes back a long way. From the outset, not all Israelites of the flesh were Israelites of the spirit. It wasn’t Abraham’s sperm that gave identity here, but God’s promise. Remember how it was put: “Your family will be defined by Isaac”? That means that Israelite identity was never racially determined by sexual transmission, but it was God-determined by promise. Remember that promise, “When I come back next year at this time, Sarah will have a son���?

And that’s not the only time. To Rebecca, also, a promise was made that took priority over genetics. When she became pregnant by our one-of-a-kind ancestor, Isaac, and her babies were still innocent in the womb—incapable of good or bad—she received a special assurance from God. What God did in this case made it perfectly plain that his purpose is not a hit-or-miss thing dependent on what we do or don’t do, but a sure thing determined by his decision, flowing steadily from his initiative. God told Rebecca, “The firstborn of your twins will take second place.” Later that was turned into a stark epigram: “I loved Jacob; I hated Esau.”

Is that grounds for complaining that God is unfair? Not so fast, please. God told Moses, “I’m in charge of mercy. I’m in charge of compassion.” Compassion doesn’t originate in our bleeding hearts or moral sweat, but in God’s mercy. The same point was made when God said to Pharaoh, “I picked you as a bit player in this drama of my salvation power.” All we’re saying is that God has the first word, initiating the action in which we play our part for good or ill.

Are you going to object, “So how can God blame us for anything since he’s in charge of everything? If the big decisions are already made, what say do we have in it?”

Who in the world do you think you are to second-guess God? Do you for one moment suppose any of us knows enough to call God into question? Clay doesn’t talk back to the fingers that mold it, saying, “Why did you shape me like this?” Isn’t it obvious that a potter has a perfect right to shape one lump of clay into a vase for holding flowers and another into a pot for cooking beans? If God needs one style of pottery especially designed to show his angry displeasure and another style carefully crafted to show his glorious goodness, isn’t that all right? Either or both happens to Jews, but it also happens to the other people. Hosea put it well:

I’ll call nobodies and make them somebodies;

I’ll call the unloved and make them beloved.

In the place where they yelled out, “You’re nobody!”

they’re calling you “God’s living children.”

Isaiah maintained this same emphasis:

If each grain of sand on the seashore were numbered

and the sum labeled “chosen of God,”

They’d be numbers still, not names;

salvation comes by personal selection.

God doesn’t count us; he calls us by name.

Arithmetic is not his focus.

Isaiah had looked ahead and spoken the truth:

If our powerful God

had not provided us a legacy of living children,

We would have ended up like ghost towns,

like Sodom and Gomorrah.

How can we sum this up? All those people who didn’t seem interested in what God was doing actually embraced what God was doing as he straightened out their lives. And Israel, who seemed so interested in reading and talking about what God was doing, missed it. How could they miss it? Because instead of trusting God, they took over. They were absorbed in what they themselves were doing. They were so absorbed in their “God projects” that they didn’t notice God right in front of them, like a huge rock in the middle of the road. And so they stumbled into him and went sprawling. Isaiah (again!) gives us the metaphor for pulling this together:

Careful! I’ve put a huge stone on the road to Mount Zion,

a stone you can’t get around.

But the stone is me! If you’re looking for me,

you’ll find me on the way, not in the way.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 9 (The Message)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is chapter 30 of 1st Samuel where David and his people recovered all that was stolen from them:

[David’s Strength Was in His God]

Three days later, David and his men arrived back in Ziklag. Amalekites had raided the Negev and Ziklag. They tore Ziklag to pieces and then burned it down. They captured all the women, young and old. They didn’t kill anyone, but drove them like a herd of cattle. By the time David and his men entered the village, it had been burned to the ground, and their wives, sons, and daughters all taken prisoner.

David and his men burst out in loud wails—wept and wept until they were exhausted with weeping. David’s two wives, Ahinoam of Jezreel and Abigail widow of Nabal of Carmel, had been taken prisoner along with the rest. And suddenly David was in even worse trouble. There was talk among the men, bitter over the loss of their families, of stoning him.

David strengthened himself with trust in his God. He ordered Abiathar the priest, son of Ahimelech, “Bring me the Ephod so I can consult God.” Abiathar brought it to David.

Then David prayed to God, “Shall I go after these raiders? Can I catch them?”

The answer came, “Go after them! Yes, you’ll catch them! Yes, you’ll make the rescue!”

David went, he and the six hundred men with him. They arrived at the Brook Besor, where some of them dropped out. David and four hundred men kept up the pursuit, but two hundred of them were too fatigued to cross the Brook Besor, and stayed there.

Some who went on came across an Egyptian in a field and took him to David. They gave him bread and he ate. And he drank some water. They gave him a piece of fig cake and a couple of raisin muffins. Life began to revive in him. He hadn’t eaten or drunk a thing for three days and nights!

David said to him, “Who do you belong to? Where are you from?”

“I’m an Egyptian slave of an Amalekite,” he said. “My master walked off and left me when I got sick—that was three days ago. We had raided the Negev of the Kerethites, of Judah, and of Caleb. Ziklag we burned.”

David asked him, “Can you take us to the raiders?”

“Promise me by God,” he said, “that you won’t kill me or turn me over to my old master, and I’ll take you straight to the raiders.”

He led David to them. They were scattered all over the place, eating and drinking, gorging themselves on all the loot they had plundered from Philistia and Judah.

David pounced. He fought them from before sunrise until evening of the next day. None got away except for four hundred of the younger men who escaped by riding off on camels. David rescued everything the Amalekites had taken. And he rescued his two wives! Nothing and no one was missing—young or old, son or daughter, plunder or whatever. David recovered the whole lot. He herded the sheep and cattle before them, and they all shouted, “David’s plunder!”

Then David came to the two hundred who had been too tired to continue with him and had dropped out at the Brook Besor. They came out to welcome David and his band. As he came near he called out, “Success!”

But all the mean-spirited men who had marched with David, the rabble element, objected: “They didn’t help in the rescue, they don’t get any of the plunder we recovered. Each man can have his wife and children, but that’s it. Take them and go!”

“Families don’t do this sort of thing! Oh no, my brothers!” said David as he broke up the argument. “You can’t act this way with what God gave us! God kept us safe. He handed over the raiders who attacked us. Who would ever listen to this kind of talk? The share of the one who stays with the gear is the share of the one who fights—equal shares. Share and share alike!” From that day on, David made that the rule in Israel—and it still is.

On returning to Ziklag, David sent portions of the plunder to the elders of Judah, his neighbors, with a note saying, “A gift from the plunder of God’s enemies!” He sent them to the elders in Bethel, Ramoth Negev, Jattir, Aroer, Siphmoth, Eshtemoa, Racal, Jerahmeelite cities, Kenite cities, Hormah, Bor Ashan, Athach, and Hebron, along with a number of other places David and his men went to from time to time.

The Book of 1st Samuel, Chapter 30 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, October 19 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A repost from October 19 of ‘19:

something i read for Saturday, October 19 that isn’t an easy task in this world, yet in Love we are instructed to do so:

A wise person demonstrates patience, for mercy means holding your tongue.

When you are insulted, be quick to forgive and forget it, for you are virtuous when you overlook an offense.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 19:11 (The Passion Translation)

we need to forgive and move on with life by letting go of the past so that it doesn’t continually haunt us.

10.19.19 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research:

October 19, 2020

Christ in You

“To whom God would make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles; which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.” (Colossians 1:27)

The New Covenant includes a mystery Paul had the privilege of revealing to the Gentiles (Colossians 1:24-29). The history and prophecies of the Old Covenant contained a few hints of God’s plan for the last days, but the focus was centered on the “fulness of time” when the Messiah would come (Galatians 4:4).

Paul seemed thrilled to “preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ” (Ephesians 3:8) and to have the responsibility of unveiling “the grace of God which is given me to you-ward” (Ephesians 3:2). More than the obligation, Paul felt a dread judgment if he failed (1 Corinthians 9:16). It follows that we should be clear in our own declaration of this mystery.

Simply put, the mystery is “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Obviously, that is the result of salvation. The new message is the completed work and resurrection of the Lord Jesus. The promises of the prophets and the long history of Israel tend to obscure the eternal plan of God (Ephesians 3:11)—thus the detailed effort of the New Testament writers to amplify the “whosoever will” aspect of the gospel message.

“Of which salvation the prophets have enquired and searched diligently, who prophesied of the grace that should come unto you: Searching what, or what manner of time the Spirit of Christ which was in them did signify, when it testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ, and the glory that should follow. Unto whom it was revealed, that not unto themselves, but unto us they did minister the things, which are now reported unto you by them that have preached the gospel unto you with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven” (1 Peter 1:10-12).

Now it is possible for the whole world to have a personal and eternal relationship with Jesus Christ. HMM III

[thestoryweneededtowrite]

A javid fic that's sickeningly sweet and fluffly,

Weddings are super fluffy, right?

Shoutout to @timetogoslumming for letting me steal a couple of her ideas from when we discussed this fic

Davey went into the weekend hoping nothing could possibly gowrong. Not truly wrong, at least. Things could be left not packed and forgottenat home, mistakes could be made by the florist or the caterer, or their friendscould cause havoc at the little hotel they had chosen to get married in, butnothing was going to be able to ruin the weekend of his wedding.

Then the receptionist had taken one look at them, with thedifferent surnames on the check-in form, and smiled sweetly.

“You’ll be wanting a room with separate beds, I assume?” sheasked, bright and happy as anything.

Davey felt his stomach sink down to his toes. Eight yearstogether and they still got mistaken for friends or, worse, brothers. It alwaysmade a quick burst of shame bloom deep inside, but it had gotten easier andeasier to stamp out over the years. All he had to do now was grab Jack’s handand clear his throat.“I’d rather not spend my wedding night in a different bed to my husband, no,”he answered a little coldly, taking a step closer to his fiancé.

At the same time Jack just scowled and informed the womanthat ‘we’re gay’ in as few words aspossible. It was one of the few times he never bothered to make the point thathe was bi and in love with a man, and not actually gay.

Flustered, the woman was quick to apologise when sherealised that she’d just offended the grooms of the wedding they had booked forthe very next day. She was clearly embarrassed about it as she checked them inand showed them to their room but even though she was still saying sorry as sheleft them alone, Davey felt uncomfortable about it. He tried to appreciate the fancyroom with its beams and ornate arm chairs and huge comfortable bed, but he justsank down onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed. He couldn’t believe that,even on the day before his wedding, people couldn’t tell how happily in love hewas.

“Babe, are you okay?” Jack asked, getting concerned when hetook in Davey’s sad pout.

“Yeah,” Davey sighed. “Just…” He gestured over to the doorthe woman had left out of and Jack suddenly understood.

“Come here,” he mumbled, pulling Davey up and into a hug andhating that heteronormativity was still a thing.

Davey relaxed against Jack’s shoulder, enjoying the comfortand the closeness. He was going to marry an incredibly empathetic man who feltlike home and safe and a hundred other things he never thought he’d find, andthe reminder of it had him cheering up already.

“I’m honestly surprised she couldn’t tell we’re togetherbecause I’m so in love with you, David Jacobs, that it feels like I’moverflowing with it. I don’t know how she couldn’t tell just by looking at me,”Jack whispered, right beside Davey’s ear so the warmth of his breath hadpleasant shivers running down Davey’s back.

“Nerd,” Davey replied, starting to smile again. All he everneeded was Jack.

Jack pushed back on Davey’s shoulders gently until he gotthe message and fell back onto the bed, cushioning his fall with the elbows –although the plush duvet could probably have managed the job alone. Jackcrawled up over him and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. This was more likethe weekend he’d been hoping for.

“Your nerd,” he offered with a grin.“Yes.” Davey nodded, pulling Jack down for a much longer kiss.

They couldn’t spend the whole day making out, of course.Eventually they had to abandon their huge, comfortable bed and go and greet theguests arriving at the hotel for their wedding. It was better to not have thetemptation of privacy and a large bed, anyway. They’d agreed on no sex fromwhen they got to the hotel until their wedding night; it was less than 40 hoursbut Davey was already starting to regret it. Sex helped when he was feelingstressed and he was quickly realising there was nothing more stressful thanplanning a wedding. He was just grateful they’d shot down his mother’s idea ofspending the night before the wedding apart. She’d insisted it was traditionbut the idea of having to sleep somewhere that wasn’t right beside Jack on thenight before what was supposed to be the biggest day of his life sounded likehell to Davey, so it was one tradition he was happy to abandon. It wasn’t likethere was a bride to not see before the wedding.

All of their friends and the majority of their families hadmade it out for their big day, and Davey loved having everyone he cared aboutin one place. It was easy to forget he was anxious when he had so many peopleteasing him about becoming a married man and pointing out how sweet it was thathe was marrying his teenage sweetheart. If things ever started to feel a bitmuch then all he had to do was look for Jack and the smile he’d get would keephim going.

With all the people to greet and talk to and all the plansto finalise with the hotel, Davey didn’t much time to let his mind run. When hefinally lay down in bed that night with Jack his brain start whirring, flashingthrough event after event that could go wrong until he was fidgeting restlesslyand letting the stress take control.

“Regretting the no sex rule?” Jack asked, feeling the wavesof tension emanating out into the room.“Little bit,” Davey huffed. “How could you tell?”“You’re stressed,” Jack shrugged, rolling over so he could face his fiancé inthe dim light that filtered through the cracks in the window from the lightsoutside. “You don’t need to be, because everything’s going to be perfect, butyou’re worried anyway because you wouldn’t be the guy I loved if you weren’t.And when you’re stressed, I know exactlyhow to get you to stop overthinking everything,” he teased, rubbing Davey’scalf with his toe under the duvet.

“We said we wouldn’t,” Davey tried to reason, but his heartwasn’t really in the debate. He wanted Jack to make him feel so good that hedidn’t have enough brain cells to panic about forgetting vows or not trippingwhen he walked down the aisle, or someone actually responding and having areason they couldn’t be married.

“Mmmm,” Jack sighed, kissing Davey’s cheek. “Past Jack andPast Davey were idiots. Let’s not listen to them.”“Okay,” Davey agreed, rolling over to pin Jack to the pillow and press kissesdown his jaw.

“Maybe no hickeys,” Jack laughed. “You’ll never forgive me ifI have hickeys in our wedding photos, even if it was you who put them there.”

Davey rolled his eyes but Jack did have a point so he movedhis ministrations lower, kissing a trail down Jack’s chest until he got to hiships.

“Here okay?” he asked cheekily, grinning when Jack noddedwordlessly, his fist in his mouth to stop from moaning when Davey pushed downthe waistband of his boxers to work on leaving a hickey on his hip bone. Anyoneelse who ever saw their wedding photos would be none the wiser, but they’d bothalways know. And that, to Davey, sounded perfect.

***

Davey realised pretty quickly the next morning that they’dmade the right choice the night before. He was already stressed beyond belief,stopping for deep breaths or kisses from Jack every few minutes, even withhaving relieved some of the pressure that had been building up. Their weddingwasn’t officially until five in the afternoon and Sarah and Crutchie, asdesignated ‘best men’ were technically in charge of organising everything, butDavey still found time to fly around and micromanage and panic about everythinguntil Sarah marched him and Jack to their hotel room and told Jack to pleasekeep her brother sane and also make him get dressed because he couldn’t get marriedin Jack’s old sweatpants and a t-shirt that read ‘Atticus Finch, Attorney AtLaw’ that Les had gotten him several Christmases back. Jack had good-naturedlyargued that he thought Davey looked dapper already and he’d have married him inanything but he dragged Davey inside and handed him the garment bag with hissuit in with a kiss.

***

Most of the wedding was a blur. Davey remembered Esther andMayer walking him down the aisle and Jack following with Medda. He rememberedgrabbing Jack’s hand as soon as he was in touching distance, just so he hadsome way to ground himself. And he remembered hearing the words ‘you may nowkiss the groom’ and knowing that Jack was finally and officially and legallyhis husband.

“Sarah, I married him,” Davey whispered several minuteslater, unable to look away from where Jack was shaking Mayer’s hand with a grinand accepting a hug from Esther.“Okay, Jane Eyre,” she snorted, patting him on the back.

Her brother had been waiting for this day for years, sheknew that. She’d seen seventeen-year-old Davey’s scribbles of David Kelly and DJ in the margins of his notes. She still had the textmessages of very un-Davey keysmashes from a little under the year ago when Jackhad proposed. At the time she’d been vaguely concerned he was having some kindof stroke but eventually she managed to tease of the words ‘ring’ and ‘marry’from the mishmash of letters and work out what he was saying. This was Davey’shappily ever after and she was so happy that he’d gotten it.

When Jack came back over to free Davey from Medda’s hugs andcongratulations, he kissed his new husband’s cheek and then pressed another tothe back of his hand, rubbing his thumb across the ring on Davey’s finger.

“So, party?” he asked, grinning. “I think we have somethingto celebrate.”

***

Davey spent most of the reception not leaving Jack’s side. Endlesspeople seemed to want to talk to them, to congratulate them or give them tipson a long and happy marriage or make jokes about how it was a nice firstwedding and that was always good practice for the second (courtesy of one ofDavey’s slightly too drunk uncles). They both just smiled politely and bit backresponses that they knew this was forever and that they didn’t need advicebecause they were going to figure this whole thing out together and that wasall they needed.

Throughout the evening everyone seemed to get steadily tipsier.Davey didn’t drink and didn’t particularly like being around drunk people, soJack only had one or two glasses. He figured that, if he was buying alcohol fordozens and dozens of people, he deserved a little himself and Davey didn’t mindso long as he was still himself. After the toasts, though, Davey found himselffeeling a little left out with his glass of nonalcoholic bubbles and reachedover to steal a sip from Jack’s, pulling a face at the bitter taste and handingit back with a screwed-up nose, shaking his head.

“You know you don’t like it, so why try,” Jack laughed,kissing his husband gently because he was just too cute not to.

“I felt like I should,” Davey shrugged, leaning againstJack’s side as he put his arm around him.

Jack just laughed again and tickled playfully at Davey’sribs through his dress shirt.

“David Jacobs bowing to peer pressure? You shock me,” heteased.“Jacobs-Kelly,” Davey corrected with a smile, leaning in for another kiss.

Jack hummed happily; this was all he’d ever wanted. Meddawas his family and Crutchie was his family and he knew that adoption didn’tmean his mother and brother were any less to him than they would be if theywere related by blood, but there was something about this tradition, thisformality, of having a husband that he couldn’t get over.

“Are Spot and Race here together?” Davey asked, settlingback into his own chair and watching as their friends were having what lookedlike a very intense conversation at an otherwise empty table, everyone elsealready on the dance floor.

Race and Spot were the most dysfunctional couple Davey knewand he wasn’t sure how they’d managed to keep it up so long. They were stilltrying to convince people that there was not and had never been anythingbetween them and that they were just friends, but no one was stupid enough tobelieve it. Neither of them had formally dated anyone in four years, and theywere constantly sneaking around together. Still, if they wanted to continue tolie to their friends and themselves then Davey wasn’t going to stand in theirway.

“Officially? No,” Jack sighed. He’d given up on trying to talksense into Race when it came to Spot.

“And unofficially?” Davey pressed.

“What do you think?” Jack snorted, gesturing back over tothe couple where it looked like they were playing footsie under the table andsitting far closer than friends usually would. Alcohol was particularly good atbreaking down Race’s walls – he’d been caught making out with Spot by prettymuch every one of their friends at parties or previous weddings – and right nowhe was mumbling something in Spot’s ear that was obscene enough to make even theirstoic friend blush.

“I think Race is one vodka and Coke away from climbing intoSpot’s lap,” Davey laughed. “Are they sharing a room?”

“Officially, no,” Jack shook his head, but then he smirked. “Unofficially,they gave Race’s room to Les so he doesn’t have to sleep on a camp bed on thefloor of your parents’ room and Race is sleeping in Spot’s room.”

Usually most of Jack’s intel on Spot and Race’snot-quite-a-relationship came from Race himself, who had to talk to someoneabout how he felt so he didn’t explode, but this time it was Les who had beentoo excited about getting his own room to keep quiet.

“Are we talking about the idiotic lovebirds?” Les asked,coming over and slumping down into a chair beside Davey and putting a champagneglass onto the table in front of him.“Speak of the devil,” Jack groaned, but he offered Les a smile. They werebrothers now, after all, and he was fond of the teenage whirlwind that was LesJacobs.

“Les,” Davey began skeptically, “how many glasses ofchampagne have you had to drink?”

The one in front of him was half full and he seemed morethan a little tipsy. “Um…” Les giggled, looking at his fingers as if he was trying to add up.“The fact that you even need to count is not promising,” Davey growled. Hislittle brother was seventeen, he just wanted him to be sensible. Technically heshouldn’t have been drinking at all.“Definitely not four…” Les trailed off, clearly lying.

Jack stifled a laugh as Davey groaned and put his head inhis hands.

“Jesus Christ!” he complained.

“You’re Jewish,” Les pointed out, laughing. “And anyway, Meddagave me the first one!”

Davey narrowed his eyes. “And the others?”“I took from the table at the side…” Les laughed again.

There wasn’t a lot Davey could do about it, he knew that. Hislittle brother was old enough to make his own decisions and the hangover he wasgoing to have in the morning was probably going to teach him more of a lessonthan a lecture ever would.“Do not let Mom see you,” he warned, knowing that somehow he would find atleast part of the blame for it and he didn’t want stern words from Esther onthe day of his wedding.“I’m not an idiot,” Les snorted, picking up the glass and taking another gulp.

Rolling his eyes and leaning back against Jack’s shoulder,Davey just ignored Les’ bad life choices and tried to focus on how good it feltto know there was a weight of a wedding band on his finger. He didn’t even haveto look at it to know it was there.

***

Davey made it to ten in the evening before starting to flag.He’d danced with Jack and Sarah and his mum and watched as Spot and Raceslipped away and came back an hour later looking particularly pleased withthemselves, trying not to feel jealous that they managed to sneak away for somealone time when he was stuck talking to aunts and cousins and family friends.He smiled as Sarah and Katherine danced slowly together at the edge of thedance floor and watched in disbelief as his little brother tried, somewhat drunkenly,to flirt with one of the waiters. That was something they should probably talkabout – if Esther and Mayer had managed to raise three queer kids then he wasgoing to enter them for some kind of record – but it could wait until Les wassober and Davey wasn’t quite so tired. Hosting a wedding wasn’t easy.

He ended up sitting down in the chair next to Jack with a groan,giving it a second’s thought before he shuffled until was lying sideways on thechair, his head resting on Jack’s thighs as he looked up at his husband.

“You doing okay, love?” Jack laughed, brushing his fingersthrough Davey’s hair fondly.“There’s a lot of people…” Davey mumbled. “I know we invited them all and I dolove them it’s just there are so many of them and they all want to talk to usand they’re drunk and I… It’s a bit much,” he admitted quietly, Jack having tolean down to hear.“Want to get out of here?” Jack asked softly. They could always see theirfriends another day and right now he wanted Davey to be comfortable and happy.Preferably in their hotel bed.“Please,” Davey sighed, reaching up to link his fingers with Jack’s.“Say no more,” Jack promised.

He gently nudged Davey out of his lap and climbed to histired feet, holding out his hand for Davey to take.

They made it three steps before Medda’s sister wascongratulating them on their marriage and on such a lovely ceremony and sayinghow she still remembered a scared little Jack who had just been adopted and howhe had grown into a wonderful young man. It was all compliments but they’dheard them time after time all day and they were starting to lose their impact.Davey hated to be ungrateful, but he just wanted to be alone with his husbandafter entertaining for hours.

Five minutes of polite, if slightly strained, conversationlater, they finally managed to get away and make it several more metres acrossthe room before one of Davey’s cousins came over.

Jack loved Davey’s family, really he did. But right now, hewished Davey was estranged from them all. The entire room was full of obstacleswho wanted to prevent them from ever leaving and they needed some sort ofescape plan. Looking around, he caught Race’s eye and sent a silent help us across the room. Responding witha nod, Race grabbed Spot’s arm and pulled him over to play bodyguards. Theymanaged to successfully escort Jack and Davey to the door, fending off anyonewho looked like they wanted to start a lengthy conversation, and wave them offinto the night.

They rounded the corner to head towards the trail that wouldlead back to the annex their hotel room was in, and Davey almost tripped overLes where he was sat with his back against the wall. Before Davey couldquestion exactly why he wasn’t back inside with everyone else, Les looked upand smirked when he realised where they were going.

“Have fun, big bro!” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up, Les,” Davey groaned. He didn’t want to hear thatfrom his baby brother.

Jack just grinned and wrapped his arms around Davey’s waist,kissing him on the cheek and looking down at Les over Davey’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, he will,” he laughed, earning himself ahalf-hearted elbow to the ribs.“Shut up, Jack!” Davey yelped, turning red. This wasn’t a conversation hewanted to have in present company.

He made the decision to usher Jack away and leave Les to hisown devices. His brother wasn’t his problem tonight and he was going to leaveit to someone else to talk to Les about why he was sitting outside and why hewas flirting with male waiters and where he’d gone a couple of hours earlierand why he felt the need to drown whatever he was feeling in alcohol, but forthe next two weeks he couldn’t – and didn’t want to - deal with anything butJack. His honeymoon was a break from being the Mom Friend, although he did makea mental note to get Sarah to talk to their little brother.

Les didn’t seem too downhearted as Davey walked away, andthat was a good enough sign that he didn’t need his brother right now, so Daveytook Jack’s hand and tugged him down the trail and aware from the weddingreception.

“Jack, please don’t talk about having sex with me to mylittle brother,” he hissed as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Who mentioned sex?” Jack teased, laughing. “I didn’tmention sex. I was talking about card games. We’re going to be playing athrilling round of Gin.”

Davey wrinkled his nose and shook his head. There wasn’tanything he could imagine to be worse.

“I really don’t want to play Gin on my wedding night,” heargued. Whenever he’d envisaged his wedding night there hadn’t been any cardgames in sight – just him and Jack and a night of heat and intimacy and touch.

“Well it doesn’t have to be Gin. How about Snap?” Jack saidplayfully, pulling Davey to a stop so he could look at his eyes and brush hisknuckles down the line of his jaw to make him shiver.

“Jack!” Davey whined, pouting.

“Go Fish? Poker?” Jack suggested, running his thumb across Davey’slips to smooth away the pout.“No!” Davey protested, the word a little muffled under Jack’s finger.

Jack took a step closer and straightened out Davey’s suitlapels, loving that his closeness still made Davey’s heart skip.

“Strip Poker?” he breathed,low and suggestive.

Davey shivered. “…Better.”

Anything that involved Jack in very few amounts of clothingsounded like a wonderful idea.

“Ah, so you want me out of my clothes,” Jack smirked. “I canrelate. But first, let me sketch you?”

Davey paused – that wasn’t quite what he expected. He lovedit when Jack drew him, being looked at like that made him feel valued andloved, but that could happen any time. Right now he wanted Jack to take himapart, not construct a new version of him on paper.

“You want to draw me like one of your French girls?” heasked, raising an eyebrow.

Jack just shook his head.

“I want to draw the first picture of my husband,” he replied,deadly serious.

“Jack, there are going to be hundreds of photographs,” Daveytried to reason. They’d had official photos taken and everyone had had theirphones out snapping pictures all day. He was planning to collect the best onesfrom everyone and format some kind of collage or photo book – this day wasdefinitely something he wanted to remember.

“It’s not the same,” Jack explained. “I need to draw you. Ineed to remember exactly how I see you right now, forever.”

The words sunk deep into Davey’s bone and he was speechlessfor a long moment.“Oh,” he managed, fighting back happy tears. “Yeah. Okay you can draw yourhusband for the first time, but then I get to sleep with my husband for thefirst time, yes? Because this is our wedding night, Jack, in case you’dforgotten,” he said, forcing a laugh through the wave of emotions crashing overhim.

“I could never forget,” Jack promised, pulling Davey in fora quick, deep kiss that he felt all the way down to his toes and leading himback to their room.

***

Davey sat impatiently on the bed, his jacket and tiediscarded and his top few buttons undone. Jack had kissed him and ruffled uphis clothes and his hair and his sanity, and then stepped away and left him turnedon and pouty. But Jack had wanted to draw him and he was planning on being asupportive husband so he let him collect a sketchbook and stick of charcoal andstart to draw.

He was used to sitting for hours for a detailed drawing sowhen Jack put the book aside after only twenty minutes, Davey was convinced itwas too good to be true.

“Done already?” he asked hopefully, reaching out to pullJack closer to him when he left the armchair and joined him on the bed.“The sketching is done, I can finish it tomorrow. I just didn’t like being sofar away,” Jack hummed. It had only been a couple of metres of distance buttonight that just felt like too much.

Davey wasn’t about to complain. He tugged Jack to him andkissed him enthusiastically, letting his hands undo Jack’s tie and shirtbuttons before pausing and pulling away just a little.

“Does it creep you out that people know you’re having sexright now?” he asked. It had been bothering him since Les had spoken to them asthey’d been leaving. Their absence would probably be quickly noticed at theirown wedding and people were going to jump to the obvious, and correct,conclusion. It felt weirdly voyeuristic and he wasn’t exactly comfortable withit.

Jack just sighed.“I’m not having sex right now,” he pointed out, gesturing down to theirpractically fully dressed states. He very much wanted to be having sex but thatwas going to take far longer to happen if Davey was going to interrupt them.“You know what I mean. Everyone knows we’re in bed together,” Davey complained.

“Yes,” Jack laughed, “I believe both the Queen of Englandand the Pope are currently being informed.”Davey scowled and hit him with a pillow, flopping back to lie on the bed andexamine the ceiling until his husband decided to cooperate in the conversation.Jack lay down beside him and pressed a kiss to his cheek with a grin.“Come on, babe, it’s not like everyone thought we were celibate until now.Neither of us has exactly been saving himself for marriage,” he pointed out. They’dbeen sleeping together since their fourth date, and neither had been the other’sfirst time. This wasn’t some ceremonial event.

“My parents don’t know that,” Davey shrugged. He didn’treally talk about his sex life to anyone besides Jack, except when Sarahdragged some details out of him, and especially not to his parents.“Give Esther and Mayer some credit, love,” Jack snorted. “They probably knewyou weren’t a virgin anymore the moment you walked in the door after your firsttime.”

Davey wasn’t good with secrets, especially not when they relatedto emotions. If he’d been anything like the Davey who Jack knew now then itwould have been all flushed cheeks and uncontrollable smiles. Any adult withhalf a brain would have known he’d had sex.“They’ve probably never given it much thought before,” Davey grumbled, but evenas he pouted his fingers went to Jack’s chest, toying with the buttons on thehalf open shirt.“And they’re not giving it much thought now, I guarantee,” Jack laughed,catching Davey’s hand and twining their fingers together. “Everyone has had toomuch to drink to worry about what I’m doing to you in bed.” His voice droppedoff at the end of the sentence, low and tempting. Suddenly Davey didn’t care somuch about who else was thinking what, so long as Jack’s train of thought continued.“What about what I do to you?” he asked slyly, finally finishing off with Jack’sbuttons.

Jack grinned, crawling up over his husband as Davey pushedhis shirt off his shoulders.“Well I was hoping you’d reciprocate,” Jack smirked. As much fun as it was to spendall his energy on driving Davey completely insane, tonight was going to befair.

“Always,” Davey promised. Marriage was about mutualconcessions and compromises, after all.

[jarienn972]

Only a Little Superstitious - Chapter Six

With my kids spending the week with my mother, I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet to get some writing and editing done.  This ended up being a long chapter but there are a lot of little, very important things woven into his installment.  Apologies to @killian-whump as there isn’t a whole lot of actual whump in this chapter  - there is a little angst on Emma’s part, but don’t worry - I’m definitely not done with our injured pirate.

AO3  FF.net    Tumblr: Chap 1  Chap 2  Chap 3  Chap 4  Chap 5

Emma tried not to dally too long in the bathroom, not wanting to appear rude and be late when invited to dine by one's host. At least she now felt a tad more presentable although there really wasn't much she could do about her filthy blood-stained clothing at the moment. She was quite certain that Grandmother Sarah Bending Willow already sensed she was hiding something by not immediately removing her leather jacket but she couldn't take it off until she was in the privacy of the tiny bath, shrugging it off and carefully folding it to keep Killian's hook concealed within.

Now that they were on the Sun Valley floor, she retrieved her cell phone for the first time in hours knowing she needed to check in with her family and trying to keep a positive outlook when she glanced down to check the battery charge level. 45 percent – not bad considering she'd been out of range of a tower for so long. It would at least give her a few minutes to speak to her parents before she'd have to try to scrounge up a charger somewhere. What surprised her more than the battery indicator was the time displayed – nearly 6:30pm here in Arizona which meant it was after dark back home. Had it really been twelve hours since she and Killian had met her parents for breakfast at Granny's? It didn't seem plausible – unless the portal had somehow altered time for them? So many things made so little sense right now…

She ducked outside with her jacket balled up and tucked under her arm just in time to see Ranger Littlecreek climbing into his SUV to head back to work for the rest of his shift. He didn't have much time for farewells, but he promised he'd check back with her as soon as he could and assured her that Grandmother would take good care of them. Not having had a clock at the way station and pretty sure her cell phone time wouldn't have been reliable up on the mountain, Emma wanted to ask him what time it had been when he'd arrived at the cabin, but she decided to save that for later. Her story already sounded like the ramblings of a crazy person. Why add fuel to that fire?

So, she kept her question to herself and instead tapped the speed dial number for her father's phone.

"Emma!" her father answered a little too enthusiastically. "I'm so glad you found a way to call back. Are you okay?"

"Dad, I'm in Arizona, not another realm. Just had to get to a place with cell phone service. And to answer your question, we're fine for now. A Park Service Ranger found us and brought us down to the home of his Navajo grandmother who was kind enough to treat Killian's wound with some natural potions and herbs. He's sleeping again now…"

"Why didn't you go straight to a hospital" David sounded confused at her decision.

"Honestly, Dad, I was a little bit afraid to. When you said that the man who stabbed Killian followed us through the portal, all I could think of is that he's already hunting for us. The first place I would start searching would be hospitals and urgent care locations and until we know more, I just couldn't take the chance that this mystery person would think the same way. Have you learned anything more about this pair that started this mess?"

"Not yet. Regina hasn't gotten back in touch with us yet, but knowing her, she'll get a name out of our prisoner. Hopefully, we'll hear from her by morning."

"Okay. Call me or text me as soon as you know anything. I've got to try and find a charger for my phone and maybe some clean clothes if I can get to a store around here, but please, let everyone back home know that for now, we're safe."

"Try to stay that way," David insisted. "I'll call you as soon as we know anything else."

"Thanks, Dad," she said as she disconnected the call just as a grumble from her stomach reminded her that their gracious host had offered dinner and she wasn't about to decline that offer.

She hadn't thought of herself as being that ravenously hungry until she'd completely devoured the offered bowl of stew and a piece of bread that she could only describe as a thick, puffy tortilla that had been flash fried in oil. It was warm, crispy on the outside and chewy inside and was a perfect accompaniment for the savory stew - so good that it had her desperately wishing to ask for seconds but she didn't want to appear greedy or disrespectful.

"I honestly wish there were words to describe just how much we appreciate everything you're doing for us, Grandmother," Emma thanked her.

"It is my honor to provide my meager services to someone who has been so dedicated to helping people," the elder woman replied with a humble smile causing Emma to nearly choke on her last bite of fried bread. Just what exactly did this woman know about her?

"I've helped a few people get through some tough scrapes…"

"You chose to become Sheriff," Grandmother explained her earlier words. "I'm sure your decision to enter law enforcement has aided many?"

"I guess," Emma deferred. "I suppose I've never really thought of it that way." Okay – it was about her being a Sheriff, not a savior.

"You're allowed to take pride in what you do. A little bit of pride isn't harmful." Emma had to stifle a chuckle at the old woman's advice. If only she knew what her work really entailed.

"Thank you for the advice. I'll have to keep that in mind the next time I'm dragging a drunk out of the alley behind the Rabbit Hole," she responded with a wide grin as the elder woman began clearing dishes from the table. "May I ask you a question though?"

"Of course, child. You may as me anything – except my age." Grandmother said with a sly smile on her lips.

"Your grandson said that you'd had a vision of someone needing help up on the mountain and that you'd been the one who sent him up to that way station earlier. Is that really how he managed to find us?"

"I used to see things all the time, but it has been many, many years since a vision has been so clear. I saw someone in distress near the summit trail so I asked Carlos if he would go there. He humors my eccentricities at times, but this time, I'm pleased that he listened to me."

"So are we. I don't know what we would have done if he hadn't come by… Would the man who attacked us have found us first or worse yet, would Killian have bled to death because I was too stubborn to call for help?"

"But those things did not happen. For now, you will be safe here, but I warn you that there is only so much I am able to do. I don't wish to frighten you but I am worried that the bleeding will not stop. The trouble is we only see what is on the surface, but below – below, I fear may lie a greater threat."

"What do you mean by that?" Emma wondered, a chill suddenly finding its way up her spine at the Navajo woman's mysterious choice of words.

"There is no way for me to be certain, but I fear that a piece of the blade used to stab him remains within…"

"Wait...," Emma gulped, all of her senses instantly heightened. "You think part of the knife might have broke off when it struck something inside his chest?" She didn't want to believe it. She knew her father had found the dagger after it had been dropped, but why wouldn't he have mentioned it was broken? Did it not occur to him how important that miniscule bit of information might be?

"I obviously cannot verify that. It is merely a feeling that I have."

"I'm inclined to believe that your 'feeling' is probably correct," Emma sighed, weary from exhaustion and a day filled with worry. "My father found the knife that Killian was stabbed with, but he didn't tell me it was broken. I suppose he assumed it happened when the attacker dropped it, but my gut believes you."

"I would prefer that not to be the case as it only makes the situation more grave for your husband. Every time he moves, that piece could shift position, inflicting additional damage - so, until it can be removed, his life remains in jeopardy."

"Story of our lives…," Emma muttered under a deep frustrated breath.

"You look completely exhausted, child. Why don't you try to get some rest while your husband sleeps?"

"That honestly sounds like a wonderful idea."

"Then go. You will need the rest as much as he does. Just promise me that when he wakes, you'll have him drink more of the tea. It may not be the most pleasant substance, but it is brewed from plants with antibiotic properties to hopefully prevent infection and the pain reliever it contains will also help him greatly."

"I may have to give him a rum chaser," Emma replied with a tepid laugh as she stood up. She collected her folded jacket from the chair beside her where she'd carefully placed it before sitting down to dinner, her body already screaming for a nap. "I'll make sure he drinks it though. This has been such a long day…," she mumbled as she withdrew her phone to turn it off, hoping to conserve the remaining battery until she could locate a charger. "You know, I really hate to bother you with this but you wouldn't happen to know where I could get a charger for my phone? I didn't exactly have the foresight to shove one in my pocket this morning…"

"I'm sure my grandson would know. I'll have him check to see what he has lying around."

"Thank you," Emma replied then before she could excuse herself, the elder woman reached out to grasp Emma's right hand, squeezing it tightly between both of hers.

"Perhaps we will soon learn the reason you were brought to us," the Navajo woman stated cryptically, a sentiment that rung in Emma's ears long after the words were said. She'd smiled politely and nodded, perhaps too tired to discern the meaning behind the odd gesture and statement. She understood that it was intended to be encouraging, but in reality, it left Emma slightly unsettled as she made her way down the narrow hallway clutching her jacket to her chest.

Trying not to disturb her husband, she pushed the door open slowly, then closed it behind herself before perching on a corner of the mattress to finally unzip and remove her boots – an act in which she took a likely unhealthy amount of pleasure completing. Wiggling her now freed sock clad toes, she heard a soft rap on the door. She padded over to the door and opened it to see the dark haired, hazel-eyed teen she'd briefly met earlier standing in the hallway with a handful of assorted cables.

"Hi," he said timidly. "Grandmother said you needed something to charge your phone. I didn't know what kind…"

"Hi, Joseph. That's partially my fault. I didn't really specify. Let's see if you've got one that matches…" She showed him the charging port on the bottom of her device and together they narrowed his collection of cords down to the proper one. "Thanks so much! I'll return it to you in the morning…"

"That's okay. You can keep it as long as you need it. My new phone uses a different one now."

"Thank you," she smiled as he walked away and she quietly closed the bedroom door again to get a little privacy.

The double bed took up most of the room so it required a bit of contorting on her part to reach the electrical outlet behind the nightstand, but it was worth the challenge when she saw the word "charging" appear on her screen. She dropped her jacket onto the floor next to her boots and started to unbutton the tattered remains of her blouse when she heard a weak, raspy "Swan?" from the bed behind her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as she carefully sat back down on the bed, this time beside him, trying not to jostle it too much. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I don't mind. I'm still quite tired…"

"Well, I hate to do this to you, but while you're awake, I'm supposed to have you drink more of the tea sitting here…"

"Bloody hell, Swan… I'm already wounded. Do I have to be poisoned as well?" Much to his disdain, his wife simply rolled her eyes, unmoved by his protest.

"It can't be that bad," she insisted, shaking her head as she lifted the mug of the now cooled liquid from the nightstand. It did have a rather strong, earthy odor to it, but it didn't really seem any worse than the untold number of potions she'd encountered since learning about magic. "Some of the concoctions that Regina has brewed up have been far worse than this – and this one has an antibiotic that you need. The wound is probably already infected since we couldn't exactly treat it properly right away."

"It's a good thing that I'm too fatigued to put up a fight," he relented, pushing himself into the most upright position he could manage without sending further bolts of pain radiating throughout his chest. Emma tried to guide him and urged him not to move so quickly.

"Easy – not so fast… The bleeding has finally slowed. We don't want anything to open back up…" She wasn't about to inform him that he might have a razor-sharp fragment of the dagger embedded inside his chest just yet though. She slid her arm around his shoulders to support him as best she could while she brought the mug to his mouth, allowing him to take a tentative sip. He grimaced as soon as the liquid hit his tongue, but she wasn't going to let him stop there. "It's going to take more than that…"

"Easy for you to say…," he grumbled as he begrudgingly took another mouthful of bitter tea, but that second swallow was all he could stomach, his face suddenly blanching as he was struck by a swell of nausea. "I'm sorry, Love… I cannot…"

"It's alright," she assured him, placing the mug back onto the nightstand before helping to ease his head back down to the pillows beneath him. "How about we both get some sleep and we'll worry about that in the morning?"

"There'll be no argument from me…," he whispered, the pain and fatigue already taking their toll on his lucidity. She made her way around to the other side of the bed, curling up beside him after turning off the bedside lamp, not even knowing which one of them drifted off to sleep first.

Morning came in the form of a bright light filtering through the curtains on the window above her head providing a rather rude interruption to Emma's dream. Blinking awake, she couldn't yet make out the time displayed on her phone but she guessed it was early based simply on how quiet it was around her. She could make out the slow, shallow breaths of her still sleeping husband beside her, noticing that at some point during the night he'd jettisoned the blanket off as it now lay in a crumpled heap at his feet. She wondered if he'd simply gotten too warm, which was highly likely considering the beads of sweat that glistened across his forehead and down his neck.

Leary of waking him, she sat up unhurriedly, contemplating whether or not she should take a moment to inspect his wound. She conceded that even if she did inadvertently awaken him, he'd be less bothered by the fact that she did so tending to his injury. He recoiled slightly as she peeled back a strip of the cloth tape holding the bandages in place, but he didn't stir. Beneath the layers of bloodied cloth, the edges of the puncture were still an angry red and the darkened appearance of the surrounding skin had her concerned. As much as she feared his unknown assailant locating them, she knew she might have to rethink her decision soon – especially with the knowledge that a broken piece of the dagger might still be lodged inside his chest cavity. She tried not to think about how much internal damage might have been inflicted while they were hiking down the mountain trail. Had she unintentionally caused him irreparable harm by forcing him to suffer through all that additional motion? Had her decision to not immediately get him medical attention endangered his life?

She buried her face in her hands as all the thoughts overwhelmed her, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on them. Pulling her head back together, she gently replaced the dressing over his wounded skin and tugged the blanket back over top of him. She tenderly caressed his cheek, her fingertips sensing his slightly feverish temperature as he turned his head toward her, seeking out her touch. His chest heaved as he drew in a deep breath, but she watched his face immediately contort as he grimaced through the obvious discomfort that even the simple act of breathing brought on.

"I'm sorry…," she whispered as the pad of her thumb absentmindedly traced the scar across his cheek, pausing when she reached the corner of his mouth. She hesitantly withdrew her hand, knowing she needed to let him rest, but she felt so listless – forcing herself to set her feet upon the floor and stand before finally managing to slip silently out of the door into the hallway.

She wasn't at all surprised that Sarah Bending Willow was already awake, rustling about the kitchen likely preparing breakfast. When Emma walked in, the older woman was scooping up a spoonful of a substance that looked like oatmeal, dropping it into a cast iron skillet and frying it a golden brown. She might not have known what exactly was being cooked, but the aroma was delectable, smelling of vanilla and something resembling popcorn?

"Come," her host invited her to the table as she noticed Emma lurking at the end of the hall. "I'm making sweet corn fry cakes and I've brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Mugs are in the cupboard right above the coffee maker so please – help yourself…"

"Thanks," Emma replied, taking quick strides directly toward the coffee pot, grinning as she opened the cabinet door to see the old woman's eclectic collection of mugs. No two were alike yet there was clearly a coherent theme – celestial objects. Suns, moons, clouds and even a few planets graced the exteriors of the ceramic and plastic mugs. Selecting one with an image depicting the big dipper constellation, she filled it two-thirds of the way with the steaming hot liquid and added just a splash of cream from the tiny pitcher next to the pot.

"I hope you slept well," the old woman said to her as she continued uninterrupted making the little cakes. "Your husband is still resting?"

"I slept quite well considering and yes, Killian's still asleep. I tried hard not to wake him while I took a quick peek under the bandages. It's looking really red and seems darker around the edges."

"I will mix up more of the medicine, but skin discoloration isn't uncommon with the turmeric and clove used in the mix. Were you able to encourage him to drink any more of the tea?"

"Only a few sips, but then he started to get nauseous so he stopped and went back to sleep."

"Very good. I know it isn't the easiest to swallow, but it is good for him."

"Most medicine isn't particularly easy to swallow," Emma smiled as she took a seat at the table, sipping the still too warm beverage. "And he tends to be rather stubborn when it comes to taking medicines anyway. Rum is usually his answer to everything."

"My guess is that his obstinance has served him well," Grandmother stated with a knowing smile as she flipped two of the corn cakes onto a plate and delivered them to the table, sliding them directly in front of her guest. "It seems to me that your husband has a very old soul – and an oft-troubled one at that."

"I guess you could say that…," Emma replied, almost sheepishly, not wanting to let on exactly how old of a soul Killian actually possessed. The old woman simply nodded at her response while reaching in to an open drawer behind her to fish out a fork.

"Now – eat," the elder woman insisted as she passed the fork to Emma's hand. "There is butter on the table and I can get you some agave syrup if you prefer them sweeter…" Emma cut off a small morsel with the side of her fork to get a taste of the creation, realizing that they were essentially a sweeter, crispier version of cornbread – and that they were delicious.

"Don't need to add a thing!" Emma gushed, both in response to the flavor and toward this woman's generosity. "These are amazing! I'll have to get the recipe from you because my family would love these."

"Ancient Navajo secret," Grandmother stated, seriously at first, but rapidly breaking into a wide grin. "No – not exactly… I've modernized my recipe with instant grits but don't tell my grandson that. Beats the hell out of grinding all that corn." Both women shared a hearty laugh as Emma finished up her breakfast while Grandmother continued frying more until the batter was finished. "Carlos will be stopping by soon for breakfast as well. He does every morning before heading out to the mountains."

"Seems like a pretty lonely job – just driving around a National Forest all day."

"It is sometimes, but he loves it. He says it allows him time to connect with the mountains – with our heritage and ancestors. The land you now know as the Superstition Mountains and the Tonto National Forest holds many sites sacred to the tribes. This land was once rich with magic, but not so much anymore. Centuries passed, beliefs changed and the magic left."

"Maybe it's still out there somewhere?" Emma suggested. "After all, some sort of magic did lead you and Carlos to find us…"

"I would like to believe that it is," the old woman replied with a noticeable hint of sadness. "Do you believe in magic, child?"

Emma had to pause before attempting to answer the question, not exactly certain of how much she should say on the subject.

"A few years ago, I would have said no, but then something changed. The son I'd given up for adoption found me and led me to a place where I was able to reconnect with my parents and then Killian unexpectedly came into my life. They all brought me the greatest magic of all – true love – so I guess you can say that I do believe in magic."

"It makes my heart stronger to know that someone does still believe. There's too much cynicism in our world today. The magic won't return if no one believes…" The old woman turned away as if she didn't wish for her guest to see the melancholy present in her eyes.

"Is Grandmother giving you her 'believe in magic' speech?" a voice asked as the mobile home's front door swung open and the tall, uniformed figure of Ranger Littlecreek stepped through, taking the same path directly to the coffee pot as Emma had earlier.

"Ignore him," Grandmother scoffed. "He will believe one day as well. He just needs the right person to guide him to the truth."

"I think I can relate," Emma responded with a half smirk curling on her lip.

"I may not know much about magic but I know a thing or two about helping out my fellow law enforcers," Carlos stated as he filled an oversized mug with coffee and then added a generous amount of cream and a heaping spoonful of sugar. "We keep a couple of storage bins full of donated clothing to help out lost hikers, wildfire victims and the like. It's nothing fancy, but I gathered a few things for you and your husband. I figured you might like to shower and change into some clean clothes. Hopefully I grabbed the right sizes too."

"I'm thankful for anything that's not caked with mud and soaked in sweat," Emma replied. "And I'm pretty sure Killian will appreciate anything not covered in dried blood."

"I thought you might feel that way. Bag's out in my truck. I'll go grab it for you and I'll bring in your husband's jacket that you left in my back seat too," he sat his royal blue mug with its bright yellow crescent moon image onto the kitchen counter and headed back out to his vehicle, returning seconds later with a jet black nylon backpack slung over his shoulder and Killian's balled up leather jacket tucked under his arm. He dropped everything onto the chair beside Emma and strolled over to retrieve his coffee while she surveyed the contents. Inside, she was surprised to find a couple of men's and women's tee shirts, two pair of basic black women's leggings and a pair of charcoal grey men's sweat pants. At the very bottom of the backpack, she even found a pack of unopened women's panties and two pair of men's boxer shorts with tags still attached. It was honestly far more than she'd expected.

"This is wonderful. Thank you so much," Emma said graciously. "I hate to keep saying this but I really don't know how to repay the kindness both of you have shown us."

"No payment is necessary," Grandmother insisted. "Now, if you would like to go bathe, I'll check on your husband."

"I would love that," Emma smiled, incredibly grateful for the change in their luck that led them to these amazing people, but they still had a long way to go, something she was instantly reminded of with the Ranger's next question.

"Quick question for you first, Sheriff – the man you think is hunting you – do you have a description of him?"

"I never really got a good look at him, but he was definitely over 6 foot tall, very stocky build – not overweight but just big. I know he had dark hair but that's about all I can tell you right now."

"That's fine. When you mentioned that someone might be out there stalking you, I checked in with a few colleagues last night for reports of unusual activity in and around the Superstition Mountain trails and found a report of a vehicle stolen from another trailhead approximately 10 miles from the way station you were in. Vague description given was a large, dark-haired man but the owner who witnessed the theft was too far away to do any better."

"Ten miles seems like an awful lot of distance away from us, but the man's description sounds close enough. About what time did that happen?" Emma wondered.

"The theft occurred just before the storm – reported approximately 12:30pm when the owners were heading back to their vehicle. Another hiker on the same trail gave them a lift down to the Ranger Station."

"Wait – 12:30? That was before the storm?" Emma was confused as it hadn't been that long after they'd dropped out of the portal and Arizona time was earlier than Storybrooke's… The timeline couldn't be right...

"Up there, yes. Storm rolled through about quarter to 1," Carlos replied. "If this is your guy, he was down here in the valley more than an hour before I found the two of you. The vehicle was found this morning near the bus depot in downtown Mesa. Unfortunately, their security cameras didn't pick up the vehicle when it entered so we didn't get an image of the guy to know for sure."

"Sounds like this guy knows what he's doing," Emma sighed. Odds were that this was the man who'd followed them from Storybrooke but where was he now? He could be absolutely anywhere in the Phoenix area by now which made her even more anxious to find a way home, but it was going to be a while before Killian would be able to make that trip – not without another magical portal opening up at least.

"Do not worry about this man right now," Grandmother told her. "He is not here and would not know to look for you here. Go and get yourself cleaned up. All this talk will wait for later."

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

My life story, part 30

I never really got into the television show Jackass. I'm not the type of person who gets that much out of watching people staple their balls to the ceiling. It mostly grossed me out and held very little appeal. At worst, it was kind of nauseating and empty, and at best, I might have mildly chuckled at a few of the more social experiments done at the expense of seeing how others behaved. But Sarah and Ava were really into that show. Sarah had a crush on the very egotistical mediocre skateboarder Bam Margera, who would go on to have a number of other obnoxious shows and eventually fizzle away and decay in his own ego and drunkenness. And Ava just liked the shock value, and wanted to emulate that same shock. So of course, against the suggestion of the beginning of the television show, we decided to attempt to pull these gags off ourselves.

Nothing we ever did was ever that dangerous of course. I was pressured into it one day. Everyone came down to my house, and coaxed me into participating eventually, against my initial reluctance to do so. I eventually gave in of course. Ava wanted to use our wobbly old computer chair at my house. I didn't want to do that. I knew it would be rough on the chair itself – though it was actually about as cheap of a computer chair as you will ever find, and more importantly my father would have my head. Any parent would scold their kids to some degree, but I didn't want to take my chances on how badly it would end for me. It was midafternoon. I knew my father would be home come around six thirty, and get off work at five. This gave me very little time to feel safe. On top of this, I needed to be attentively babysitting Allison and David. But I agreed. We decided to take the chair downtown.

Allison and David both went down to a friend's house to play that was nearby where we were going to be. I checked in on them once an hour or so to make sure they were okay. They were seven and eight so I wasn't really that worried. In a small town, you don't often have to worry about a lot of things that you might in a city. Not that there aren't creeps, but it's less likely anything dangerous would happen. It wasn't too far away from where we were going to be anyway. I gave Ava a time frame of how long we could be out with the chair.

The whole thing ended up being dumb. Once you get out there with a prop, you really wonder what you are going to do. Nobody wanted to get hurt, or break the chair. We weren't Stevo or Party Boy. What's more, I would get waves of worry that somehow I would get in to trouble. But my friends told me not to worry, but I had this bad feeling. Other than the chair, I wasn't really doing anything too wrong. I mean, the chair was wrong. But I wasn't barred from going to the store to hang out with my friends and I was keeping enough track of Allison and David to know that they were safe enough.

At four o'clock though, as I looked down the road, my heart sank into my stomach, as I saw my father's car driving through town. The vehicle was charged with my father's ego and aggression. I knew I was looking at danger. I couldn't believe my eyes. My limbs turned to jelly, and my heart's rhythm surged into a fast tropical beat that I could barely keep up with. He was never home early. There was no way for me to hide since there is really only one road to drive through. I was dead meat. Sarah was able to quickly hide the chair though, and it was for the luck that my father has poor observational skills that he didn't see it. She scooted it against a building and stood in front of it. It was obvious to see, but he didn't really think to look.

When he saw me, he had this fury in his eyes. He slowed down the car and asked/yelled at me where Allison and David were. I nervously told them they were at their friends about a block down the road. He looked at my furiously, and I knew I was dead. Strangely, none of this had anything to do with the chair though. I should not have been in any trouble. He then screamed at me in this loud frightening voice 'GET THE FUCK HOME.' There was a sinister promise in his voice.

My friends looked around scared and were soon avoidant of me and my new problem. As soon as his car drove away, we realized that there would have been at that point, no safe way to return the chair without him noticing. I realized that he there was a decent chance that he wasn't going to notice that the chair was missing, since he only got online once every three or so days. I was willing to take that chance, and then go down to the shed area (owned by Sarah's mom's boyfriend Jim), and get it on one of the days that he was working.

When I got home, he was in the kitchen. I could feel this violent rage in the kitchen, and my stomach twisted with anxiety. The dishes were still dirty. Ordinarily, we would have started them by then, but seeing as he was home two and a half hours early, nothing was done. On top of this, David had ran to the house while my dad had driven up to where they were playing so he could use the bathroom. The house was only two minutes away. This gave my father the excuse to say that I hadn't been watching them. I argued that I had done exactly what he told me to do in situations where they wanted to play at a friend's nearby – check on them every hour. I had done that. He didn't know about the chair so I wasn't about to bring that on myself – the one thing I had done that was definitely questionable. I argued that we didn't think he was coming home early, so of course we hadn't done the dishes yet, but we were going to – and we were.

At this point, he was livid. I don't remember all of it, but he began screaming so loud I couldn't hear him. He started throwing things in the kitchen. I was terrified, and in the back of my mind, I started thinking about escape. The look on his face, the lack of self control, I couldn't help but think that he wanted to physically attack me. David was quietly crying in the corner. Allison, eight years old, came out of the bathroom wearing only a towel. He was screaming at all of us about what terrible children we all were. As Allison got out of the tub, he began yelling at her violently. She curled up in the corner naked and sobbing in fear. The towel had fallen off, and she huddled helplessly. He then said 'GET THE FUCK UP YOU LITTLE BITCH'. It was frightening and cruel in tone. I was in shock. I didn't know this person. I realized in that moment that I had never really known my father. I could barely connect him calling Allison a bitch with the man who swung me around at the park. How could you call a little girl who just got out of the tub, understandably afraid naked and crying a bitch. And he said bitch in this way that spelled out a hatred for women. It was the way you say bitch when you want to hurt women. She looked about as absolutely helpless as you could imagine. A naked little girl crying in the corner.

He then went after me. I must have yelled at him to leave Allison alone. I felt this deep seated rage that he had gone after Allison in that way. He yelled that I was dead to him. I was a pig-whore. A worthless disgusting pig like my mother and sisters, and he wished I was dead. All of this happened in a voice so loud that the windows were shaking. I was sobbing uncontrollably, but I also realized instinctively that I was going to have to run. I was on my own. The universe was against me. Whatever he did next towards me was going to hurt me, and I was not strong enough to fight back. So I took off and I ran. He chased me half way up the hill to Sarah's. My muscles ached, but I could not feel them. I was nothing but fear and adrenaline on two legs. I was shaking uncontrollably, could barely breath or talk. I barely remembered moments of it, other than looking behind me and seeing him. Eventually, when I got towards the top of the hill, I saw Sarah's door and I knocked. Sarah's gentle understanding face, and Carol's humble and sensible face met me at the door. The relief was real. It was hard to imagine while that was all happening, just a little ways away, a woman was getting ready for bed and calmly reading the paper. And Sarah was calmly home. Ava had gone back home shortly before.

The let me in, I told them what happened. They shared their dinner with me, a comforting hot soup and toast. I tried to calm down. Carol told me that if my father was being violent and scaring me, I could always come there to get away if I thought he was going to hurt me. She told me that she would not let him come in after me. And it is for this reason alone that I absolutely cannot be mad at her for that incident with the shirt in 4th grade. Because this is probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. And this happened several times throughout my teenage years. Had I not had a way to escape, I don't know what I would have done.

And I really wished that Allison and David had had the same option, but in a lot of ways in the Haynes family there was only room for one. Plus, Allison and David were a lot younger than me, and I think my father had more of a restraint with keeping them at the house. Carol might not have been able to fight for them without getting the cops involved. And as often as they needed to be involved I knew it would be difficult had we tried to get the state involved with protecting us. For one thing, the nearest police station was an hour away in Lewiston. By the time they got to the house, the majority of the damage would have already been done. My dad would be calm. He could go from being violently abusive, to friendly. In a lot of ways, my father has the personality of a cop. He knows how to talk, and he's not your typical kind of abusive jerk. He can come off as extremely bright and professional. I could almost hear him and the police officer laughing now, even though it never happened. I on the other hand was a F student teenage girl that the whole town made light of. I had no illusions about how the aftermath of the situation could and would be spun against me. Cops don't want to do more work than they have to.

Secondly, I would not have had the backing of Allison or David. They would have lied for him, not for any malice against me, but for the sake of trying to be good. He would have coached them just like he coached me years before when Roxanne called the police on him. I as well didn't feel right about calling the cops on my father. Because these freak outs were horrible and damaging, but he was at times very nice other days. He seemed to take a certain delight in being our dad, as selfish as his enjoyment was – he didn't seem to appreciate us having anything in our lives that wasn't about him or beyond his understanding. He would always cook us the best food he could afford and tell us about what was happening in the world however unfair his political biases were. I always really liked to sit at his feet and ask him questions, just like I had when I was a little child. He was engaging and never ever discouraged me asking why, as long as I didn't ask him why he did things. It made no sense for me emotionally to turn him in. And I didn't really know if it was illegal for him to call me these names. How bad does it have to get before you have a case?

Third, we would have ended up somewhere that would take me away from my friends. And my friends were in many ways my real family. It would have given me a lot of problems. There are studies done that show that a good majority of foster kids, particularly foster kids end up in abusive homes. My mother would have likely been the one to take us in though, and she was a much worse person than my father. She has no moral compass. My father, though violent and abusive, seemed most of the time that he had some kind of moral code at all. And had it ever gotten to the point where any of us were living at my moms or in foster care, you have to know he would get us back in a heartbeat. They give parents a lot of opportunities to fight for getting their children back. The system won't take children away permanently unless it is clear that they absolutely have to. And he would have gone through all of this in a heartbeat. He had the same job for over thirty years. He didn't do drugs, didn't even drink in those days. And how would life have been for me once I was back in his care? Probably even worse unfortunately. There was no winning for me.

Carol knew this. So I understand why she didn't want to call the police on him.

But I think it was hard on Allison and David. My father created this bridge between me and the rest of the family in this whole process of making me the black sheep, while simultaneously relying on me to make the household run. Allison grown up told me that she wanted to go with me every time I ran away, and she felt abandoned and less than me. It didn't seem fair to her that I had an escape and acceptance at the Haynes family and she did not. She was often stuck between my father and David. David, trying to understand and emotionally process this situation would decide to side with my dad, in part because he resented me for being a mean babysitter, and because it was hard for him to go against our father. In the moment I think he always felt badly for me when our father was after me, but after that, after he had gotten away and the house was still again, he could find reasons to rationalize my father's reactions towards me. And he might have thought that this behavior was acceptable. Not only would I freak out at them, but our own dad freaked out much worse. There seemed to be no right and wrong. And I think both of my younger siblings subconsciously picked up this sense that I was bad in some way, and this carried into their adulthood seamlessly imprinted in the back of their minds.

Problems at home made me hold on that much harder to my school life, however dismally I was actually doing in school. My friends were all I had. I gave all my trust in them. And seeing Zack around gave this intriguing sense of magic to my life. This alone kept me going during these times.

FFA wasn't going super well. The whole time I was in there was a surreal experience in strong feelings I had never felt before. I was shaky after the end of each class, and I learned not to eat breakfast each morning else my stomach would hurt more than it already did. I tried hard not to watch Zack as he wrote things on his paper. Sometimes his blonde hair would fall in his face, and he would have to tuck it behind his ear. I thought this was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen a human being do. Forget ballet, forget musical performers, acrobats, fight scenes in movies, great paintings or acts of great martyrdom throughout history. Beauty to me was watching Zack's blue eyes looking down at his paper as he wrote, tucking his hair in behind his ear when it fell into his face a little bit.

Mrs. Gulke hated me, but she hated Jason even more. Jason sat there like an adult punk who couldn't be told what to do, and this intimidated Mrs. Gulke quite a bit. Him and I both took our sketchbooks everywhere we went to draw. My sketchbooks were filled with naked women, Jason tended to draw roses. She resented this and told us we couldn't do this anymore. For some reason, there was a tipping point with Mrs. Gulke and Jason early on. He told her she was a bitch and she could fuck right off when she went on the attack one day. She made it this big moment to shame him, and he snapped. For a moment I could see the fear in her face. She was genuinely nervous that he was going to physically go after her – and honestly, Jason may have done just that. She actually snapped at him and I sometimes when we weren't doing anything wrong, so this was bound to happen if Jason or I had been good students or not. I remember his eyes were full of fury. And when he was angry, he salivated a little bit. He was like a dog, when after a fight might bite it's owner's hand it is so lost in rage. I was honestly a little bit scared. Jason was ordinarily so friendly towards me that it was hard to believe that anyone could suddenly shift like that.

She tried to kick him out, but he was sent back to the class because there was nowhere else for him to be. But eventually, after the first half of the year, she did manage to get him kicked out. Until that time though, he generally sat next to me.

Zack sometimes stare at me from across the room. He was getting more comfortable with doing this. I felt this zing in my heart when he looked at me. I could not for the life of me tell if he was joking. I resented the idea that he might have been only teasing me, but couldn't entirely rule it out entirely either. Nobody else was teasing me anymore though, and Jason was now my friend so it seemed like a bit of a stretch to think he would have been simply trying to get a rise out of me. It didn't seem like it would have made sense for him to go rogue on this one. Obviously, he was teasing, but it really felt more like he was flirting. And why was he looking at me so much? When we walked out of class, he seemed to be getting closer to me. One day, he was looking at me, and I looked at him back. And he aired the words ' I LOVE YOU'.

My heart was doing somersaults. I was alarmed. I felt like I was being electrocuted. I couldn't accept that anyone would mean this, and couldn't even tell how I felt about it. But he said this with a dead serious look on his face. I looked down at my paper and blushed. I did not look back up, and when the bell rang, I quickly got out of the FFA class as soon as I could.

Mrs. Gulke kicked me out of that class three times. The first time, was because she opened up my notebook and she saw all the naked women. She aggressively let me know that the drawings in my notebook were sick, and I was sent to the office, where the principal looked at them for a moment, made me sit in a desk for fifteen minutes before sending me back to class. The next time, she caught me drawing. She took my notebook away this time. It was not my drawing book. It was a lined notebook. It was sent to the office to be inspected by the counselor. What they found was a small section where I wrote my dreams. I wrote about a dream I had where I tried to kill my dad. I don't remember how the dream started, but I remember in dream-rage, I had grabbed a sharp object and tried to stab him to death in the kitchen. But when I looked up at him, the stab did nothing. He was immortal and he laughed down at me. I could not kill him. I remember feeling powerless and so frustrated I couldn't even scream.

They also found a little drawing I had done of a bunch of simplistic demons dancing around a fire maniacally in a unified circle as a demon-god came out of the fire and rose above them. This drawing was more meant out of humor than anything. I didn't nor have I ever had any interest in summoning the devil. But I was listening to a lot of Godsmack (a band I used to like back then), and the song Voodoo had inspired it one evening. It was a harmless doodle. I got sent to the office, and grilled about the drawing and the dream. I told them it was just a dream. After accusing me of being a violent Satan worshiper I was sent back to class.

The third time they sent me to the office, it was because I was moving my hands like I was drawing. The reason I probably took to drawing in part is because I have to constantly be doing something with my hands. I can barely contain them, and I have to have something. I don't own a fidget spinner, but I strongly suspect they were invented for people like me. So when I wasn't thinking about it as I was sitting there with my pencil in my hand, I began to subconsciously draw in the air, not looking at the paper or even aware of my hands. Mrs. Gulke sent me out to the office then as well, and of course I was given more detentions.

We had to learn the FFA Creed. I have a really god memory for things like that. If I focus on it intently for a few minutes, I can memorize words and spatial placement of things very quickly. So in order not to be yelled at, I read the eight paragraphs or so and recited it back to the class in the first week to get it out of the way. The only problem was that, at this point in my life, I used the word 'like' between words constantly. It was a nervous habit that I wasn't even aware of. I sounded a little bit like a Valley Girl. So as I recited the entire speech, proud that I was the first one to get it memorized, at the end I was met with Mrs. Gulke saying nothing but looking at me resentfully. Everything was quiet, and then with impact she stated, 'That is the most amount of 'likes' I have ever heard anyone say in my entire life. If you say 'like' one more time, I am going to kick you out of this class and you are going to get an F'.

The next time, I was wearing a hoodie and I had my portable cd player in the pocket. When I stood up, Weezer's Blue Album began playing. 'My Name Is Jonas' started playing throughout the whole class. Everyone just stared at me. I desperately tried to turn it off, but I ended up only making it louder. Eventually I turned it off, and she looked like she was about to lunge at me, but didn't. It was hilarious if I hadn't been so nervous. I ended up slipping up and saying like on accident when I was reciting the Idaho FFA Creed. I held my mouth in shock. She looked infuriated, but gave me a C. All the other students seemed to glare at me, but Zack smiled at me.

For the next part of that class, we were supposed to memorize every meat cut from a cow, a pig and a chicken. There are a lot of meat cuts, a lot more than people realize. It made me feel queasy as I looked at the animal's body sectioned off in insensitive bits. But, I was able to memorize all of this too, hundreds of confusing Latin terms, and relatively meaningless terms used for pieces of meat that looked almost identical and I got the highest score in the class. And I could tell this made her angry. People like me were not supposed to succeed.

Jason had had enough of her. So one night, he got a few of his adult friends to come to her classroom and steal from her during a football game. I don't know how they managed to not get caught. He had been stealing his whole life though, so he seemed to know how to get into things pretty swiftly. He could also crawl into small spaces since he was so thin. They broke into the building, they stole money, a laptop, soda, and a 50 lb box of Hershey's candy bars. Jason found us and told us what he had done later. And we promised not to tell on him, which I guess made us accomplices to the crime. He gave us a LOT of candy for it. None of us wanted to see Jason get into trouble. He was so frail, he had no family. Mrs. Gulke was humorless and mean spirited and bent on making people feel belittled and unsure of themselves. The whole system seemed rigged against people who didn't fit in like Jason and I. It didn't make me happy that he had stolen from her. And I didn't feel like it solved much. But Jason had no other recourse to defend himself against the world.

I was sitting at the kitchen table one morning. The world seemed soft, the fall air was cool, and I felt very reflective and peaceful. I felt this tingling in my chest, and I had had it when I had woken up that morning. And then it hit me that I was in love, there could be no other feelings as to why I could not breath and why my heart was a flutter. I loved Zack. I had been in denial of it until that moment. He was not a good kid. He was a druggy. He had long hair. Most of the girls in the class had voted him the hottest guy in the school – at least aside from some seniors though they wouldn't date him ever because they saw him as a loser, and who was I? We were a lot different. And I didn't know what it meant for me after this realization. I didn't know if it would work out for me, or if I was right or wrong or if anyone in my life would accept it, but I just knew that I loved him with all my heart, come what may. And as much as I didn't want to, I knew I had to tell my friends quick. Ava and Sarah both seemed to want to find him too now when we went to games or were in the halls. It wasn't just me anymore. Nobody had confessed anything, but if I didn't say what was on my mind, then someone else would eventually develop feelings for him. And I couldn't have that.

So, I told Ava over the phone. She didn't seem too upset. She did seem a bit taken aback. I don't remember all that she said, but she was all in all very supportive. Telling Sarah was a little harder. Sarah tried to explain to me that it was a bad idea. She said she was afraid that Zack would make me do drugs, and she was afraid of the influence he would have on me. And I tried to explain to them both that I wasn't interested in drugs. I just loved him. In my heart, I imagined that someday he would be somebody. He just seemed to radiate a certain light about him. I argued that perhaps I could have a positive influence on him. And in any case, I didn't really see anything wrong with what he was. I loved him through thick and thin.

PART 29 - http://tinyurl.com/ybfcr9j2

PART 28 - http://tinyurl.com/yagdlo47

PART 27 - http://tinyurl.com/ydcj5fgf

PART 26 - http://tinyurl.com/y73nvl73

PART 25 -  http://tinyurl.com/y6v6pgoj

PART 24 - http://tinyurl.com/ycak5d8r

PART 23 - http://tinyurl.com/yac6sk3g

PART 22 -  http://tinyurl.com/yat6cfnw

PART 21 -  http://tinyurl.com/y783egno

PART 20 - http://tinyurl.com/y8jskymt

PART 19 - http://tinyurl.com/rfhbms8

PART 18 - http://tinyurl.com/ycrznrwk

PART 17 - http://tinyurl.com/y77unlng

PART 16 - http://tinyurl.com/yadpsv8c

PART 15 - http://tinyurl.com/yb3lt6k5

PART 14 - http://tinyurl.com/yb4cfedq

PART 13 - http://tinyurl.com/yalanq9s

PART 12 - http://tinyurl.com/yc79mw94

PART 11 - http://tinyurl.com/yc9qhj84

PART 10 - http://tinyurl.com/yb734w24

PART 9 - http://tinyurl.com/yc2t6vfw  

PART 8 - http://tinyurl.com/ybl37utq

PART 7 - http://tinyurl.com/ybvo283g

PART 6 - http://tinyurl.com/kbc9dwu

PART 5 - http://tinyurl.com/msnz4am

PART 4 - http://tinyurl.com/k9x8esg

PART 3 - http://tinyurl.com/mwp9atx

PART 2 - http://tinyurl.com/lbt6xq2

PART 1 - http://tinyurl.com/l8xbvg8

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                                                                        SEPTEMBER     2020

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 The Rolling Stones have released an old unreleased track they did with Jimmy Page. Scarlet also has a brand new video starring Paul Mescal.** The Rolling Stones will open a store on Carnaby St. in London, Rolling Stones #9 on Sept.9.

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Where the hell is Matthew Gray Gubler??

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Africa had been declared polio free.

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Check out Dream Hustle Code!! It is a worthy cause.

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Iowa has lifted the ban on felons voting. Hooray!!

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They have discovered the longest living vertebrate, a 400 year old shark.

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Hey Clockface is the new album coming in October from Elvis Costello.

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Drunk History has been cancelled. NO!!!!!!!!! Netflix??

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Michigan will pay $600 million to the victims of the water crisis.

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They are remaking The Thing.

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Fresh Prince will reunite for their 30th.

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Scary Clown applied for help to get a sea wall to protect his golf course due to climate change.

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Micky Dolenz is said to be recording Dolenz sings Nesmith, an album of songs written by Mike Nesmith.

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PEAD or the Presidents Emergency Action Documents are periodically revised and nobody seems to know a thing about them. Word is the rules are being revised right now but how will we know?? These are the most secret documents in the government. Congress is not even privy to them. Does that seem right??

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Wendell Pierce will star in The Thrill is On where he will play B.B. King.

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Quibi has brought us the Mapleworth murders with John Lutz, Paula Pell, JB Smoove and Tina Fey.

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Kutcher and Leno have been sticking up for Ellen. Watch your back, girl!!

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The West Wing is reuniting,

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Roman Polanski sued the Academy in 2019 for reinstatement but he has now lost that bid.

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The California Supreme court has reversed the death penalty for Scott Peterson.

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From Beirut to Florida to Belarus to Russia, our leaders never stop letting us down. The state of the world with the anger, the rebellion shows us just how selfish those in power are. ** The military budget: $732 billion, $ needed to bail out the Post office: $25 billion. This one we have to fight for and bring back our mailboxes for goodness sake!!** There are 3 republican Senators who are very uncomfortable with the President’s bashing of the Post Office. **UPS gives mountains of money to McConnell and Trump.

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This is an administration more interested in suppressing the vote than the virus. -President Obama ** Brookings.edu will tell you how well your state runs the vote.

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Sam Jay has a great stand up special to see called 3 in the morning.

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If your religion makes or keeps you stupid, it’s not a good religion. –Michael Mckean

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There are calls to dissolve the NRA because of massive fraud.

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Rep. David Schweikert was reprimanded and ordered to pay a $50 thousand fine for misuse of funds.

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Days alert: Gabi is right about one thing: Gwen seems like a skank.** What must it feel like for Ari Zucker to keep getting dragged back into Trump’s dirty laundry??**So good to see Paige and Eddie again!!!! **Phillip is back!** I wish they would give Eve something better to do and like last month, I wish Jack and Jen could really do something . Perhaps they could hustle stories like back in the day.

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Jerry Falwell Jr. has been asked by Liberty University to take an indefinite leave of absence as President and chancellor. He has now resigned. As I wrote about months ago, the torrid story of the pool boy has finally come full circle. It’s about time!!

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Face the Nation: When asked if he supported the tweet from that seemed to suggest he was ok with Kyle Rittenhouse, the attorney General of Ky. Daniel Cameron Said, “I condone violence on all it’s forms.” So he was of course asked if he meant CONDEMN and he agreed but I am not so sure. The first response seemed closer to the truth.

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Alabama legislator Will Dismukes who was spotted at a celebration for the KKK Grand Wizard, is charged with stealing thousands from a floor company he worked at.

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How many Trump friends own pay day loan places?? They must be making a mint on all the desperate poor.** The Trump administration is scaling back protections for over 1,000 species of birds. ** It seems MAGA hats are made in China and Joe’s hats are made in the U.S. by union members.** A Judge has rejected Trump’s latest bid to hide his tax records.

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Is this true? Cops make $150 thousand in Chicago to police schools. That is about half of what teachers make. Mind you, officers also still make their regular pay. The school district voted that even if a school decides not to use police in their school, that $ is still allotted for the cops and cannot be used for other things.** Baron Trump’s school is under orders to stay closed.** It is a blessing that the WH, the NBA and some companies can quarantine and test often. How about spreading some of that around to the food vendors or people at the bottom of your food chain?? It isn’t fair that so many small businesses are going under because they have nowhere to turn.

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Louis Dejoy was raked over the coals. He claims to have stopped taking mailboxes and sorting machines but the damage is done. He seemed to say ,”no” a lot in the hearing. He does not seem to know much about his post office. Why are the rules different for the Post Office as opposed to other government agencies?? ** Washington postal workers have reinstalled mail sorting machines. Fingers crossed that they keep their jobs.

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Arizona Senator McSally told supporters they might come up with more campaign cash for them if they do a bit of fasting.

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I always get a tear when I see John McCain give the thumbs down that day or when he defended Obama from that awful woman during their campaigns.

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The DNC went off without much of a hitch. Everybody looked and sounded good. Tammy Duckworth was especially noteworthy.  Bloomberg seemed to have bought himself a prime spot and lashed out at Trump from the business side of things.** Jon Favreau had a good take that the RNC’s message was that if you’re rich and white, you can do anything.** At the RNC: Tom Cotton just said America is safer now than 4 years ago, but one of the themes of this convention is that America’s cities are more violent than ever, -John Avlon** Pence: Make America great again again! WTF?** The last night of the RNC  did not have to compete with sports but the DNC still won the ratings race, if that matters to U.

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The Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has resigned.

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What if we just put confederate General hats on all the mailboxes? –Conan** Hurricane Laura knocked down a confederate monument that they had voted to keep.

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Claudia Conway is seeking emancipation.  Her parents Kellyanne and George are stepping away from their respective opposing political roles.

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The Senate intel committee informed the DOJ in mid 2019 that it believed Trump Jr., Kushner, Eric Prince, Manafort, Bannon, Sam Clovis and Hope Hicks all committed crimes.** Bannon was arrested as well as Brian Kolfage, for pocketing funds from the We build the wall fund that Mexico was supposed to pay for.  Bannon was arrested by the postal service on a yacht belonging to another alleged criminal.

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Loved the Colbert show talking about “prayers in the air” and Trevor Noah calling out the ‘militia members’ for what they are: ‘gang members.’

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The Nazi brownshirts, or Sturmabteilung were born of unemployed veterans and thugs that the party reached out to act as security for their meetings. –Mike Stuchbery

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A former FBI agent has documented white supremacists and militias have infiltrated police across the U.S.

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It’s silly to believe an illness can stem from having sex with a demon, but just to be safe I’m giving it up anyway. – Emo Phillips

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Kamala Harris means more Maya Rudolph!!!!

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So Seth Meyers had a poll about his sea captain and NBC would not let them use their site?? It didn’t matter for it does not seem they took it seriously anyway. The duck, who was not part of the poll is a nice touch though as is the fish. Long live the sea captain!! That is Forte, Armisen and Samberg, right??

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Sturgis? Smashmouth ??really??

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Sen Penn married Leila George.

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If you can convince the lowest white man he’s better than the best colored man, he won’t notice you’re picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and he’ll empty his pockets for you. –LBJ

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What if we’re the weird ones ya’ll , and he’s just Al Yankovic. –George Wallace

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Before Fox news, you actually had to drive to a Klan rally. –LOLGOP

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Larry Wilmore will host a late night show on Peacock.

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So, the Black*ish episode that wasn’t, will finally air, now how about letting us see the Gary Cole episode of SVU??

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I can’t wait for Ratched, the origin story of Nurse Ratched. Sept. 18 will bring us Sarah Paulson, Judy Davis, Finn Wittrock, Sharon Stone, Amanda Plummer, Vincent D’onofrio and Cynthia Nixon.

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Jim Belushi stars in Growing Belushi about his new pot farm.

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Why is it so hard for humans to open their minds? From law enforcement rehab to using home grown drugs for pain or listening to different cultures and religions, it should be ez to just listen. Doctors are touting psilocybin for everything from quitting cigarettes to depression.  The effects can be lifesaving and science can save us all. This is not the dark ages but on some days, we would never know that.

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Fire-Nado?  Double hurricanes?? Whoa!

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Many sports teams went on strike.

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R.I.P. Reni Santoni, David Rossi, Wilforn Brimley, Gary Knopp, Pete Hamill, John Hume, Daisy Coleman, Helen Jones Woods, Brent Carver, Beirut victims, Brent Scrowcroft, Leon Fleischer, Trini Lopez, Raymond Allen, Sumner Redstone, covid victims, Robert Trump, Matt Heron, Linda Manz, Ash Christian, Robert Ryland, Justin Townes Earle, Allan Rich, Gail Sheehy, Reni Santoni, Jacob Blake, hurricane victims, Kenosha victims and Chadwick Boseman.

[pastorcowboy]

Matthew series week 26

                          Ministry of Jesus: Be Ready Pt.2

Matthew 24:43-Matthew 25: Use what is given

There is a point in any journey when you get where you are going. Matthew is a really big book. I suppose the entire Bible is bigger. The book “War and peace” is bigger. Yet, Matthew is bigger because of all the themes, connected scripture, and deep meanings. It would take many years to know this book. I almost think it’s impossible. So, here we stand looking at the cross. This whole book laid a path to the cross. We have been on our own personal journey with Matthew. Somehow, we have been on a journey with Jesus. We have witnessed his connection to creation, to King David, Mary, and God the Father. There is the prophesy connections. All this points to the cross.

Why the cross? I feel the cross is the line in the sand. To accept God as creator is one thing. To accept Jesus is one thing. Many have done that. Yet, many have rejected Jesus as God. They refuse to believe the notion that Jesus died and rose again. When you read Matthew, it’s all about the impossible. Time and time again the disciples and religious rulers dismissed the impossible. It’s impossible for a man to die and rise again after three days. It still points to the cross.

The last part of chapter 24:43 and into Matthew 25 points to the kingdom; what we have been given; and are we ready. It’s all of it. Matthew has prepared you for the cross. The prophesies point to it. The words of Jesus point to it. The story points to it. This last section of Matthew stands on the edge. The parables in this section tell us that we have been given all that is needed to be Christian. It also tells us that the Lord is coming back. There is no more teaching, miracles, or ministry. The last three chapters drive us towards the cross. What is the cross to you?

Matthew 24:50 “The master of that servant will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour he is not aware of.”

Matthew 19:26 “Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."

The Bible has a thing about forecasting. You can call it prophesy if you want. Yet, at times, it is seen in actions. You could see that coming. Jesus says to Peter that the cock would crow three times. It did. Abraham would have a child, he did. Our lesson and insight into Matthew today is all about the future and the present. On one hand we have the present. This second half of Matthew 24 and into chapter 25 has the people left to tend to the kingdom; invest given money; and wait with lamps. Everyone is given a choice. What choice? To use what has been given or go on your own way without a care. Matthew has told us the truth about where we began through Jesus. What will you do with what you know now?

Matthew 25:13 “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.”

Genesis 18:14 “Is anything too hard for the Lord? I will return to you at the appointed time next year, and Sarah will have a son.”"

All throughout the Bible is judgment, punishment, and weeping and gnashing of teeth. It seems like the end is going to be really bad. How do you sell a religion that points to death and destruction? It comes down to paying attention and Matthew 25:24-25. The slave hides the money because he heard the rumors. He was very afraid. What we miss at times is the other two men. They took what was given and made it better. They knew the rumors. They knew the fear, yet they drove ahead to please their master. Adam hid. Moses was tentative. David stayed home and got into trouble. What will you do when the time comes?

Is it about harsh punishment? Is it about hell and damnation? In the Bible, we see men and women who saw God as loving or mean. C.S. Lewis is a famous Christian writer. He wrote a book series called the Tales of Narnia. The lion Aslan is a Jesus like figure. At one point they asked if we should be afraid of Aslan. Is he safe? Read this quote below. This is Jesus.

“Aslan is a lion- the Lion, the great Lion." "Ooh" said Susan. "I'd thought he was a man. Is he-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion"..."Safe?" said Mr Beaver ..."Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.”

All of it points to the harsh and mean cross. Nothing is safe in Christianity, but it is good.

Matthew 25:24:25 “Then the man who had received one bag of gold came. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. 25 So I was afraid and went out and hid your gold in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you”

Psalm 51:1-2 “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions. 2 Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin”

Read Matthew 24:43-51 and Matthew 25. Read Psalm 51. This Psalm is said to be written after David was punished by God. David is afraid, sad, and fearful. Yet, he loves the Lord.

1.       Matthew 24:42 says “therefore be on alert.” The beginning of Matthew 24:43 says “but, be sure of this.” Be sure of what? People can discount the Bible. Sure, they can. I have read stories of people testing fate. The Darwin awards are a bunch of stories collected through the years. These stories re-tell the accounts of people finding stupid ways to die. They usually ignored the warnings of danger. Jesus and Matthew have warned us. It’s now up to each of us to take the warning or reject it. How do we want this life to end on earth? The “be sure” is that Jesus was not kidding.

The section of Matthew 24:43-51 is us. We are thrown into a forecast. In Matthew, Jesus has not gone to the cross yet. However, this section tells us something about what happens after the master is gone. We are left holding the bag. The bag? The kingdom of God. There is no pillar of fire like in Moses day. There is no prophet to warn us. The savior has gone back to heaven for a time. We are those left standing here. Acts 1:11 has Jesus ascending to heaven. The angels are asking the men why they are looking up. There is a need to look at what we are left with. A time to use what is given.

Don’t look at the words master or slave. It’s a parable. Don’t look at gnashing and weeping. They are just words. It’s like I said earlier. We can sit in fear of God. We can fear death and what people think of us. We can keep our eyes fixed on heaven. We can fix our eyes on earthly things like getting drunk. Far too often we must fix our eyes on something to exist. We tend to dwell, ponder, and mull over a great many things. Yet, there is work to be done. What are you going to do with what has been left for you?

Matthew 24: 47 “Truly I tell you, he will put him in charge of all his possessions.”

Acts 1:11 “Men of Galilee,” they said, “why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven.”

2.       Matthew 25:1-13 has been dissected into many pieces. Who are the virgins? Should we be virgins? Who are the five with lamps trimmed? Who is the bride, bridegroom, the foolish, and the prudent? We tend to look so deep into verses for meaning. There are new rules in the National Hockey League to guard against bad calls. Recently they have made mistakes. The commissioner said they are were looking for mistakes instead of looking at the play. People have looked into the ten-virgin’s parable the same way. Read this parable and see that the 5 were prudent and five were not.

We are to be ready. It’s interesting that Jesus is called the bridegroom. We are the bride. It’s not sexual but relational. In the Bible the married couple become one. A relationship with Jesus is to become one with God the Father, Jesus, and the Spirit. That is why this Spirit is given to us. To dwell in us. How are we soul and flesh? It’s a question that on this side of heaven cannot be answered.

We have been given the Spirit of God. I can’t exactly feel it. Yet, something has changed. I remember in the Grinch that when he got Christmas, his heart grew three times that day. Really? I bet he just knew. I bet he was different from that day on. The spiritual is beyond us. Yet, somehow it dwells within us. We all know it. So, what will we do with it? Will we be ready, willing, and alert when Jesus comes back?

Matthew 24:23 “But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut”

Judges 16:20 “Then she called, “Samson, the Philistines are upon you!” He awoke from his sleep and thought, “I’ll go out as before and shake myself free.” But he did not know that the Lord had left him.”

 3.       Matthew 25:14-30 is reality. Moses was asked to go talk to Pharaoh. He told God he could not. Gideon was asked to fight for God. He wanted a sign. Matthew 12:38 has the Pharisees asking for a sign.  We are given talents, abilities, and wisdom from God. Why do we ask for more? Why do we ask for what others have? In the parable of the talents it says in verse 15 that we are given according to our given abilities. We have all we need and all that it takes to be great. Why do we always ask for more?

This parable is twofold. One is that we fear. We fear that God is holding back. In the Garden of Eden, the serpent said God was holding back. Abraham slept with the slave Hagar because he couldn’t wait for God. We get into so much trouble when we can’t wait. We can’t see what God sees in us. We fear being insignificant or left behind. Remember this. Jesus said in Matthew 18 that not one sheep would be left behind. That includes you.

Secondly, it’s about the three men. Nobody has more talent than another. We all have talent. Yet, we measure its importance. Two baseball players. One is a superstar. The other is a coach of the super star.  When they were children they both had a passion for baseball. They both play ball, but one appears greater. Yet, they needed each other to succeed. We have been given a measure of ability. What will you do with what is given?

Matthew 25:29 “For whoever has will be given more, and they will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them.”

Malachi 3:10 “Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, so that there may be food in My house, and test Me now in this," says the LORD of hosts, "if I will not open for you the windows of heaven and pour out for you a blessing until it overflows.”

4.       Matthew 24:43 is ringing in my heart “be sure of this.” Matthew 25:31-46 is all about what goes right and wrong in ministry. First of all, ministry is not what you think. I am sure I have mentioned this before. Ministry is not a preacher. It’s not a church. Ministry does happen through those people and buildings. Ministry is not an orphanage. It’s not a food bank. Ministry flows from Christians. Ministry is given titles, authority, and church funds. Yet, ministry is not any of those things. Ministry is people. We must never forget that.

Throughout this whole book, Matthew has screamed that ministry is people. The Pharisees condemned Jesus for eating on the sabbath. They condemned Jesus for healing on the sabbath. They mocked him for drinking, eating, and the miracles he did. They called his ministry Satanic because of the sinners he associated with. They missed the lame. They missed the poor. They missed the hungry. They missed the outcast. They missed God.

You have been given all you need to be the kingdom of God on earth. What will you do with it? Will you puff yourself up? Will you see the poor? Will you feed the hungry? Will you notice the beggar? God does, but do you? You are now standing on the backside of the cross. You are all that’s standing there now. Jesus is not hear. Yet, God is inside you. There is time and ability to make the kingdom great through the Spirit of God and through you. Are you ready and are you willing? Read Matthew 25:31-46 again.

Matthew 25:45 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.”

2 Chronicles 25:2 “He did what was right in the eyes of the LORD, but not wholeheartedly.”

What it means?

How can I sit here and do so little? I have served in church. I have helped the food banks. Yet, what have I really done. Yes, I am doing something. I pray for others. We give our money away when we can. Yet, there is this lingering feeling I could do more. Oscar Schindler tried to save Jews during the second world war. At the end of the movie he could not see who he had saved. Instead, he broke down over all those he did not save. I get it. I could do more. Yet, I have been given abilities. I have been given faith. I have been also given opportunity. Have I done enough with what I have been given? Time will tell.

This world is clearly getting darker. It breaks my heart where we are going. The human race appears rudderless. Have we not learned anything? This section of Matthew is on the edge. It’s the last instructions from Jesus before the cross. He does not give us a list of things to do. Instead he reminds us that we are ready. We have been given enough to do the kingdom work.

What it means is simple: you are ready? More training will come but it’s not needed. Do you need training to pray? Is a degree required to feed and visit the poor? Is a great speaker needed to be a friend? Is money required to hold a hand? We will wait till Jesus comes back. Acts 1 says don’t look up. Matthew 28:19 says go and tell. Jesus told the disciples to take nothing with them. Why? Because we have all we need to do the work. It’s up to you now.

Matthew 25:32 “All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.”

Matthew 28:19 “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

Luke 9:3 “He told them: "Take nothing for the journey--no staff, no bag, no bread, no money, no extra shirt.”

[nebris]

The Babies at the Fringes of Fertility Tech

Beyond the reach of U.S. law, doctors are changing the way babies are made 

It’s 10:30 p.m. in Kyiv, Ukraine, and Dr. Valery Zukin is at the hospital with a patient who needs emergency surgery. The patient is 31 weeks pregnant and has intestinal obstruction — a rare complication that’s potentially fatal in pregnant women. Zukin says the situation is under control, but he’s exhausted, and the stakes are high.

Earlier that day, Zukin had been at a fertility conference in Barcelona, where his groundbreaking fertility treatments made him and his colleagues the stars of the show. Now he’s sitting in a pale-yellow room at the Leleka Maternity Hospital, where he is CEO. Zukin is conferring with a team of doctors about how to save the young woman’s life — and her baby’s.

Zukin is accustomed to this kind of emergency. He’s one of the first embryologists in Ukraine, and as a leader in assisted reproductive technology, he’s part of a small cadre of doctors specializing in a revolutionary fertility technology known as mitochondrial replacement techniques (MRT). It’s promise: to make healthy babies possible for couples who are infertile or carry debilitating genetic disorders.

Though tonight’s patient got pregnant the old-fashioned way, Zukin and his colleagues are breaking new ground in radical fertility tech what seems like every other month. No stranger to controversy, Dr. John Zhang, Zukin’s partner at the aptly named clinic Darwin Life-Nadiya, is the first-known scientist to help a woman give birth to a baby who has three genetic parents using one of these techniques. In the United States, where Zhang works, the technique is regulated by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and is illegal — so Zhang went to Mexico.

Using MRT, Zhang created the embryo in New York and then flew back to Mexico with the fertilized egg and implanted it in a patient there. The announcement of the baby’s birth in 2016 rattled the world, but the blowback hasn’t deterred them. Zukin and Zhang are already working on the next crop of so-called three-parent babies — they’re just doing it beyond the short arm of U.S. law, in places like Ukraine and Mexico.

Forty years after the birth of Louise Brown, the first “test-tube baby,” we are living in a golden age of fertility tech.

To date, at least five babies who have the DNA of three people have been born using MRT (and at least one is a girl, which means that her genome changes will be heritable). Experts don’t know if there other MRT babies are out there, but with ongoing regulated clinical trials of the techniques in the UK, there may soon be more.

Forty years after the birth of Louise Brown, the first “test-tube baby,” we are living in a golden age of fertility tech. Even its detractors agree that MRT is an astonishing development in medical science — human genetic engineering in action. And it’s just one among a rash of new fertility techniques that stand to fundamentally change how humans procreate: live-donor uterus transplants, preimplantation genetic testing and selection, egg freezing, hyperprecise in vitro fertilization (IVF), CRISPR genome editing, in vitro gametogenesis (which uses reverse-engineered stem cells to make eggs and sperm from men), and the list goes on.

The U.S. government has made it clear it has no interest in approving MRT anytime soon, stalling the industry stateside, but the international fertility industry is booming. Medical tourism is a global market valued at $68 billion, and experts say a growing portion of that business comes from people traveling overseas to get frontier fertility treatments that are illegal at their home base. There’s no data on how many women from the United States travel abroad for fertility treatments, but experts think medical tourism already explains why some countries, such as Denmark, Spain, and Israel, have double the rate of babies born from reproductive tech than the United States.

“Sometimes it’s the people with an unusual vision who change the world,” Zukin says.

MRT is controversial, no doubt. It’s unregulated in most parts of the world, and many contend that it’s unethical. But the babies are coming anyway.

Embryo research has been progressing swiftly since IVF became a household concept 20 years ago. Technology like preimplantation genetic diagnosis (PGD) has allowed doctors to make sure the embryos that are implanted after IVF are of high quality, which has been shown in limited studies to improve the outcome of a pregnancy.

“If you look at the success of fertility therapies in 2018 compared to 10 years ago and compared to 10 years prior to that, the success has been exponential,” says David Ryley, a pioneering fertility specialist in Boston, Massachusetts. According to some research, this technique has raised the IVF live birth rate to nearly 70 percent, compared to IVF without PGD.

Ryley’s clinic, Boston IVF, has been a leading fertility center for more than 30 years. The clinic claims to have been the first in New England to help a lesbian couple get pregnant; in 1998, it was the first clinic to help a gay male couple have a baby via surrogate. The clinic also achieved a number of other firsts, including the first donor egg pregnancy in New England and the first birth in Massachusetts to result from a frozen egg back in 2006.

“When I was in residency back in the ’80s, you’d be lucky if you had a live birth rate of 10 percent,” Ryley says. As for the more out-there techniques underway, he adds, “I don’t mean to sound like a typical American, but in my opinion, more well-controlled, well-regulated research needs to be done. But is it exciting, especially for these people who suffer from these terrible disorders? Absolutely it’s exciting.”

Still, barriers exist. Another form of mitochondrial replacement, known as cytoplasmic transfer (CT), was banned by the FDA in 2001 because of a worry that it may lead to chromosomal abnormalities, which could result in birth defects.

For infertile couples or women who have endured multiple miscarriages, MRT represents another chance at having a child to whom they’re genetically related.

There are other reasons frontier fertility research doesn’t happen much stateside. The first is known as the Dickey-Wicker Amendment, an appropriations rider that bans federal funding for research that involves destroying embryos (which happens in nearly all embryo-related research). The amendment is included in the annual federal budget and has been renewed every year since 1996. Bioconservatives, pro-lifers, and many prominent American bioethicists continue to stand by the Dickey-Wicker Amendment.

In 2016, another congressional rider was added to the budget that prohibits the FDA from even accepting research applications for embryo research that would include editing the human germline, a move Stanford bioethicist Hank Greely called “dumb” at the time. It is similarly illegal to create a genetically modified embryo, which the FDA considers MRT embryos to be. Meanwhile, public opinion on the topic is shifting, with the majority of U.S. adults saying they think gene editing that treats serious congenital diseases is appropriate.

The UK has seen its own political brouhaha around MRT, but the results have been different. In 2015, Parliament gave the green light to begin the process of setting up a regulatory framework for clinics to provide MRT for couples with mitochondrial disease, a model that has been adopted in Australia and Singapore. As a result, legal, regulated three-person British babies are expected to be born anytime now.

MRT and techniques like it are the result of progress in other areas of fertility research — namely, what goes wrong, and when, in the development of a fetus. Mitochondrial diseases, which can vary in severity, are among the most lethal genetic diseases, because they are rare and there are no cures. They are also passed along the matrilineal line, through mitochondrial DNA. In the United States, fewer than 4,000 babies are born every year with mitochondrial diseases; the other fetuses simply don’t make it that far.

For infertile couples or women who have endured multiple miscarriages, MRT represents another chance at having a child to whom they’re genetically related.

“A deputy [in the government] asked me if anyone has confirmed MRT is safe for the baby. I said, ‘Nobody has confirmed it.’”

There are at least three ways to split an ovum, or human egg, to separate the mitochondria from the nucleus. Zhang used maternal spindle transfer for the baby born in Mexico, while Zukin specializes in something called pronuclear transfer. Both techniques are legal in the UK for experimental treatments.

Zukin’s particular arrangement in Ukraine is cloudier. There are no explicit laws permitting the procedures, so he’s operating under a kind of gentlemen’s agreement with the Ukrainian government rather than an official regulatory pass. “We received special permission for clinical trials,” Zukin says. “A deputy [in the government] asked me if anyone has confirmed MRT is safe for the baby. I said, ‘Nobody has confirmed it.’”

Zukin says the data from his clinical experiments will provide the basis for the parliamentary decision on whether it will officially sanction or prohibit MRT. “If we have any confirmation that [MRT] is risky for babies’ health, it will be prohibited. If it is safe for the babies, and the babies are healthy, we will allow it,” he says.

Zukin says he has assisted in the birth of four healthy babies, is working with three pregnant women, and is about to start working with four more. His patients declined to be interviewed for this article. Zukin’s clinic is private. He charges up to the U.S. equivalent of $15,000 per cycle.

Zukin’s work has fertility specialists and ethicists around the world anxious — but excited.

Sarah Chan, a prominent bioethicist at University of Edinburgh who has published several papers on MRT, says that although Zukin’s experiments raise a lot of red flags, “If we never did anything, we’d never do anything.”

In the international fertility industry, the private market rules, with clinics like Zukin’s operating in regulatory gray areas. While the UK, Singapore, and Australia have announced plans to begin regulating the procedures soon, the dearth of options still means that nearly everyone who wants to try MRT is left with one choice: to shell out for plane tickets to foreign countries and pay whatever those doctors charge for a chance at a baby.

This, of course, raises the thorny question of who gets to access these technologies in the first place.

Zukin claims patients from Brazil, Israel, Sweden, China, and the United States — but he refuses to treat gay people out of his personal beliefs. (A spokesperson for the Darwin Life-Nadiya Clinic said that Zukin’s refusal to treat gay people does not reflect the company’s policies. A rep for Zhang says he believes that everyone who wants to should be able to have a baby.)

The Nuffield Council for Bioethics, the UK’s unofficial national bioethics body, wrote a report on MRT in 2014 that suggested that lesbian and other same-sex couples with female reproductive organs could use MRT to create genetically related offspring in the future.

“I do think that going forward, who this technology is provided to, and who decides this, is a concern,” says Edinburgh bioethicist Chan. “In the UK, all cases would be regulated through the national regulators. It wouldn’t be up to the whims of a particular clinician to say, ‘Well, I’m going to treat you, but I’m not going to treat you.’ If we are concerned about equitable access without discrimination to developing health care technologies, then we do have a concern about who gets their hands on them and who is enabled to do them,” Chan says.

Experts like Chan, Ryley, and many others in the field, myself included, believe that in order for these technologies to be equitably distributed, any couple, regardless of their sexual orientation, health status, or income, must be able to access them safely.

“I am sure that sooner or later, the FDA will approve of this treatment, after we have confirmation of the healthy status of the babies,” Zukin says.

In the meantime, two facts remain: Regulators aren’t doing a good job of keeping up with the science, and people who want babies will do nearly anything to get them.

Update: An earlier version of this piece incorrectly identified where the first MRT embryo was created. It was created in New York, and implanted in Mexico. This piece has also been updated to reflect Zhang’s position on treating gay patients.

https://medium.com/s/futurehuman/at-the-fringes-of-fertility-tech-2d3bb749bc65

[touristguidebuzz]

The Hassle of Flying in an Age of Permanxiety

It seems that flyers have more to fear these days than in the past. Bing Qing Ye / Skift

Skift Take: You can argue it's never been a better time to fly. Fares are cheap, and amenities like Wi-Fi and free snacks keep improving. Even better, airlines are updating their mobile apps, making it easier for passengers to rebook from delayed or canceled flights. But some people — at times, frequent flyers but mostly the infrequent ones — still view flying as a pain.

— Brian Sumers

Skift launched the latest edition of our magazine, Travel in an Age of Permanxiety, at Skift Global Forum in New York City in September. This article is part of our look into the current state of the traveler mindset through the lens of the pervasive state of anxiety felt worldwide.

Download the full version of Skift’s Travel in an Age of Permanxiety magazine here.

Perhaps since the first commercial flight, passengers have felt stressed on airplanes. But before the early 2000s, it was easier to identify causes. Some travelers feared plane crashes while others worried about terrorism. Some may have suspected they would have a panic attack, perhaps because they didn’t like cramped spaces.

Now, passengers have more to fear. Many have extensive worries — from buying a ticket (why do prices fluctuate so much?) to checking in (will the airline charge for bags?), security (will they receive an invasive pat-down?), boarding (will the overhead bins have enough space?), and seating (will there be enough legroom?).

It means that, even as carriers invest in passenger-friendly amenities, including Wi-Fi and better entertainment, and improve their on-time performance, many customers say they’re stressed and anxious. Some have similar problems in daily life, but many more navigate other tasks fine. They just dislike flying.

It makes sense. Security checks are more arduous now than a couple of decades ago, and many passengers don’t know what they can bring with them. Meanwhile, many travelers dislike how many airlines treat passengers differently. On most carriers, loyal customers receive special perks, while everyone else pays for stuff that was once free, including checked luggage, assigned seats, and, in some cases, carry-on bags. That approach makes sound business sense, but it often makes frugal passengers anxious.

“The process of getting into the airport and onto the plane is typically associated as a stressful experience and not a pleasurable experience,” said Emanuel Maidenberg, clinical professor of psychiatry and biobehavioral sciences at UCLA’s David Geffen School of Medicine. “These kinds of worries, although they are perfectly fine and normal, they tend to lead to elevated levels of baseline stress.”

There are evolutionary reasons for this anxiety, said Jenni Blackford, an associate professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. Humans, she said, do not like uncertainty. And at airports and on planes, many do not know what to expect. More than ever, they don’t feel in control.

“Even though traveling is relatively safe, our brains are still wired to pick up on potential threats,” Blackford said. “These days, where it’s pretty safe, things that are uncertain or ambiguous can cause the same sense of fear that a sabre-toothed tiger would have caused in the past. Somebody who may have a high need for control might worry that their bags are going to get lost and they won’t have their favorite sunscreen.”

(Un)Welcome Security

One newish problem is security checks. Even seasoned travelers do not always know what to expect, and many passengers fear they could receive a random — and invasive — pat-down, said Jeff Price, an expert on airport security and professor at Metropolitan State University in Denver.

Price knows extra checks are necessary, but he recently watched officers perform a secondary screening on his wife — she set off the alarm after handling household cleaning supplies — and he said he understood why people find it uncomfortable. “That person touched my breasts,” his wife told him afterward.

“If you are never encountered by law enforcement for anything more than a speeding ticket, there is really no other place in our society where you are going to be patted down like that except at the airport,” Price said. (Pat-downs at concerts and sporting events are usually less invasive, he said.)

The Airline Problem

Almost two decades ago, David Neeleman founded JetBlue Airways with a simple idea: bringing humanity back to air travel. His airline offered more legroom and free TV, didn’t overbook flights, and served snacks to everyone, even during less profitable times.

In the 17 years since its first flight, JetBlue has made some missteps, and one — its inability to recover following a 2007 Northeast snowstorm — cost Neeleman his job. And, yes, JetBlue has tweaked its model, reducing legroom and charging some customers for checked bags. But the founder’s ethos remains important, a major reason JetBlue strives to treat passengers respectfully.

JetBlue often focuses on simple stuff. It refers to travelers as customers rather than passengers. Its employees are crew members, so no one focuses on job titles or roles. And the airline calls its economy class cabin Core instead of coach. The airline’s premium section, meanwhile, is Mint — not first class. Using words, it wants to remind passengers and employees they’re all in it together — that no one is better than anyone else.

“Air travel can be really stressful,” Joanna Geraghty, JetBlue’s executive vice president for customer service, said in a recent interview. “We have all been there. When I travel with my family, the stress level rises. We try to create an environment where our crew members are empathetic to our customers.”

It’s an interesting approach, and judging by airline-industry awards, JetBlue probably creates more goodwill than any competitors other than Southwest Airlines and Alaska Airlines, both of which have similar philosophies.

Unequal “Rights”

But not all airlines follow the egalitarian model. Many reward premium customers with perks, but charge frugal passengers for nearly everything. This is not new, but the chasm has widened as carriers have prioritized high-value customers more than before. (JetBlue also rewards loyal customers, but not as extensively as other airlines.)

On many larger airlines, loyal customers check bags for free and receive upgrades to first class and premium economy. While flying in economy, they have first choice of seats, so they can usually sit with their families. When flights are delayed or canceled, they’re the first to be rebooked. And on some flights, they get free meals and alcohol, when others do not.

Still, on most airlines, boarding is probably the biggest issue for causing stress. Generally, loyal customers get on first, allowing them to place bags in overhead bins before less profitable passengers board. By the time “regular” passengers board, there’s often little room.

“One of the things [humans] want is to be the first person to secure resources,” Vanderbilt’s Blackford said. “The one with the most toys wins. If you are worried about a shortage of resources, which you often are for overhead bin space, you end up getting this crowd mob mentality.”

For non-elite flyers, “It’s just like being in a cage,” said Sarah Steegar, a 19-year flight attendant at a major U.S. airline, who tweets at @FATravelWriter. “You’re so limited and at the mercy of other people to help you — and getting such help is harder and harder because airline employees are stretched as well for resources and manpower. More and more, it’s a bit of an ‘every man for himself’ environment.”

Most flyers are well-behaved, Steegar said, but about two percent “cause some sort of drama” — though not all do so intentionally. She noted her employer has not taught her how to handle anxious passengers since her initial training two decades ago, though the airline trains flight attendants on how to respond to passengers who pose a security threat.

“I’ve seen colleagues punched, I’ve been cursed at, I’ve had weird threats,” Steegar said. “People try it all on with us, and it got worse after the United incident (with the doctor dragged off the plane) where belligerence spiked and people seemed like they really wanted a confrontation.”

Download Travel in an Age of Permanxiety magazine here

[rollinbrigittenv8]

The Hassle of Flying in an Age of Permanxiety

It seems that flyers have more to fear these days than in the past. Bing Qing Ye / Skift

Skift Take: You can argue it's never been a better time to fly. Fares are cheap, and amenities like W-Fi and free snacks keep improving. Even better, airlines are updating their mobile apps, making it easier for passengers to rebook from delayed or canceled flights. But some people — at times, frequent flyers but mostly the infrequent ones — still view flying as a pain.

— Brian Sumers

Skift launched the latest edition of our magazine, Travel in an Age of Permanxiety, at Skift Global Forum in New York City in September. This article is part of our look into the current state of the traveler mindset through the lens of the pervasive state of anxiety felt worldwide.

Download the full version of Skift’s Travel in an Age of Permanxiety magazine here.

Perhaps since the first commercial flight, passengers have felt stressed on airplanes. But before the early 2000s, it was easier to identify causes. Some travelers feared plane crashes while others worried about terrorism. Some may have suspected they would have a panic attack, perhaps because they didn’t like cramped spaces.

Now, passengers have more to fear. Many have extensive worries — from buying a ticket (why do prices fluctuate so much?) to checking in (will the airline charge for bags?), security (will they receive an invasive pat-down?), boarding (will the overhead bins have enough space?), and seating (will there be enough legroom?).

It means that, even as carriers invest in passenger-friendly amenities, including Wi-Fi and better entertainment, and improve their on-time performance, many customers say they’re stressed and anxious. Some have similar problems in daily life, but many more navigate other tasks fine. They just dislike flying.

It makes sense. Security checks are more arduous now than a couple of decades ago, and many passengers don’t know what they can bring with them. Meanwhile, many travelers dislike how many airlines treat passengers differently. On most carriers, loyal customers receive special perks, while everyone else pays for stuff that was once free, including checked luggage, assigned seats, and, in some cases, carry-on bags. That approach makes sound business sense, but it often makes frugal passengers anxious.

“The process of getting into the airport and onto the plane is typically associated as a stressful experience and not a pleasurable experience,” said Emanuel Maidenberg, clinical professor of psychiatry and biobehavioral sciences at UCLA’s David Geffen School of Medicine. “These kinds of worries, although they are perfectly fine and normal, they tend to lead to elevated levels of baseline stress.”

There are evolutionary reasons for this anxiety, said Jenni Blackford, an associate professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. Humans, she said, do not like uncertainty. And at airports and on planes, many do not know what to expect. More than ever, they don’t feel in control.

“Even though traveling is relatively safe, our brains are still wired to pick up on potential threats,” Blackford said. “These days, where it’s pretty safe, things that are uncertain or ambiguous can cause the same sense of fear that a sabre-toothed tiger would have caused in the past. Somebody who may have a high need for control might worry that their bags are going to get lost and they won’t have their favorite sunscreen.”

(Un)Welcome Security

One newish problem is security checks. Even seasoned travelers do not always know what to expect, and many passengers fear they could receive a random — and invasive — pat-down, said Jeff Price, an expert on airport security and professor at Metropolitan State University in Denver.

Price knows extra checks are necessary, but he recently watched officers perform a secondary screening on his wife — she set off the alarm after handling household cleaning supplies — and he said he understood why people find it uncomfortable. “That person touched my breasts,” his wife told him afterward.

“If you are never encountered by law enforcement for anything more than a speeding ticket, there is really no other place in our society where you are going to be patted down like that except at the airport,” Price said. (Pat-downs at concerts and sporting events are usually less invasive, he said.)

The Airline Problem

Almost two decades ago, David Neeleman founded JetBlue Airways with a simple idea: bringing humanity back to air travel. His airline offered more legroom and free TV, didn’t overbook flights, and served snacks to everyone, even during less profitable times.

In the 17 years since its first flight, JetBlue has made some missteps, and one — its inability to recover following a 2007 Northeast snowstorm — cost Neeleman his job. And, yes, JetBlue has tweaked its model, reducing legroom and charging some customers for checked bags. But the founder’s ethos remains important, a major reason JetBlue strives to treat passengers respectfully.

JetBlue often focuses on simple stuff. It refers to travelers as customers rather than passengers. Its employees are crew members, so no one focuses on job titles or roles. And the airline calls its economy class cabin Core instead of coach. The airline’s premium section, meanwhile, is Mint — not first class. Using words, it wants to remind passengers and employees they’re all in it together — that no one is better than anyone else.

“Air travel can be really stressful,” Joanna Geraghty, JetBlue’s executive vice president for customer service, said in a recent interview. “We have all been there. When I travel with my family, the stress level rises. We try to create an environment where our crew members are empathetic to our customers.”

It’s an interesting approach, and judging by airline-industry awards, JetBlue probably creates more goodwill than any competitors other than Southwest Airlines and Alaska Airlines, both of which have similar philosophies.

Unequal “Rights”

But not all airlines follow the egalitarian model. Many reward premium customers with perks, but charge frugal passengers for nearly everything. This is not new, but the chasm has widened as carriers have prioritized high-value customers more than before. (JetBlue also rewards loyal customers, but not as extensively as other airlines.)

On many larger airlines, loyal customers check bags for free and receive upgrades to first class and premium economy. While flying in economy, they have first choice of seats, so they can usually sit with their families. When flights are delayed or canceled, they’re the first to be rebooked. And on some flights, they get free meals and alcohol, when others do not.

Still, on most airlines, boarding is probably the biggest issue for causing stress. Generally, loyal customers get on first, allowing them to place bags in overhead bins before less profitable passengers board. By the time “regular” passengers board, there’s often little room.

“One of the things [humans] want is to be the first person to secure resources,” Vanderbilt’s Blackford said. “The one with the most toys wins. If you are worried about a shortage of resources, which you often are for overhead bin space, you end up getting this crowd mob mentality.”

For non-elite flyers, “It’s just like being in a cage,” said Sarah Steegar, a 19-year flight attendant at a major U.S. airline, who tweets at @FATravelWriter. “You’re so limited and at the mercy of other people to help you — and getting such help is harder and harder because airline employees are stretched as well for resources and manpower. More and more, it’s a bit of an ‘every man for himself’ environment.”

Most flyers are well-behaved, Steegar said, but about two percent “cause some sort of drama” — though not all do so intentionally. She noted her employer has not taught her how to handle anxious passengers since her initial training two decades ago, though the airline trains flight attendants on how to respond to passengers who pose a security threat.

“I’ve seen colleagues punched, I’ve been cursed at, I’ve had weird threats,” Steegar said. “People try it all on with us, and it got worse after the United incident (with the doctor dragged off the plane) where belligerence spiked and people seemed like they really wanted a confrontation.”

Download Travel in an Age of Permanxiety magazine here