#I promise I have a longer jordan thing but the people are HUNGRY for Jordan I am giving them what they want | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mypoisonedvine · 4 years

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Hungry Like The Wolf | soft!dark!Ari Levinson x reader

summary: when you need ari’s help for a secret mission with the CIA, he expects gratitude from you— and he wants a lot more than just a thank you card.

word count: nearly 6.5k

warnings: smut (dub con/coercion/sex as bartering tool), oral sex (f receiving) and vaginal sex, overstimulation, possessiveness/very very slight yandere vibes?, some violence and gun use, mentions of human trafficking/warfare, religious discussions and traditions but not particularly orthodox ones, vague discussions of sexism and misogyny with implied religious background, overall just lots of global politics and all that fun stuff

(a/n: I went ahead and wrote the hebrew and arabic in english lettering because tumblr doesn’t support right to left text so just a heads up. my arabic is very weak so I apologize if there are any errors.)

Taking a deep breath, you ran through your pitch in your head again. Sure, you’d had plenty of time to go over it on the plane, but one last recitation couldn’t hurt, right? Unable to stall any longer, you turned the knob and entered Ari Levinson’s office.

You’d heard he was good-looking but his appearance still surprised you; his long hair and thick beard made him look like he’d fit in with a rock band better than an intelligence agency, and his half-buttoned shirt put his Star of David necklace and muscled, hairy chest on display.

He must have caught your gaze trailing down because he smirked at you, making your cheeks feel a bit warm.

“Mr. Levinson,” you greeted as you looked up to his face again.

He greeted you as ‘Ms.’ instead of ‘Agent,’ but you let it slide since you were about to ask him for quite the favor. When he motioned for you to take a seat across from him, you did so with a nod and a quick smoothing of your skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” he prompted.

This was the easy part; this was the part you’d rehearsed a thousand times. “There is a group of trafficked women and girls who have been rescued from all over— Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Kuwait— and gathered in Riyadh. We are working on a plan to move them to Cyprus and, eventually, Greece where they will be accepted into a camp there. Maybe they’ll end up in the States at some point, if we can swing it, but… Cyprus is step one.”

Ari nodded, listening to your story with more patience than anyone else had so far.

“As you can imagine, it would be a lot easier to move through Jordan and Israel and use your ports, rather than go around through Egypt or Syria…” He stared at you expectantly as you trailed off, and you cleared your throat before finishing: "The CIA would greatly appreciate Mossad's cooperation in the movement of these refugees."

"How much would they appreciate it?"

You paused, unsure what he meant. "Um, quite a lot, I'm sure…"

"I just mean that we have missions the CIA could be a useful assist for, too,” he clarified, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on his lap. “You guys have a lot more resources than we do. If we help you out, is this going to be an allyship we can rely on?"

You swallowed dryly, pondering if there was a way to get out of this before you sighed and slumped down in your chair, leaning a little closer to him. "Alright, I have to be honest with you: it's not really the CIA that's asking for your help."

"Then who is?"

"Me. Just me. I'm the only one who believes in this mission; I'm the only one fighting for these people. The CIA won't help you because they won't even help me and I work for them."

He slumped his shoulders a little bit. "Then I'm not sure if I can afford to say yes to you."

"Please," you implored, "I know I can't offer you as much as they can, but I'll do whatever I can to make this work. Please," you repeated as you laid your hand over his, noticing the way his expression shifted a bit, "help me."

"I've been the one person fighting for a mission before," he remembered, voice a little softer. "I know how hard it is to go it alone."

You smiled gently at him.

"And, I know how far I would've gone to get my people to safety."

His hand flipped around suddenly and grabbed yours tightly, pulling you closer as you gasped.

"How far will you go?"

You shivered, the darkness in his eyes burning right through you even when you tried to look away. "Mr. Levinson, I—"

"Call me Ari," he instructed gruffly, grip tightening around your wrist until you yelped softly.

"Ari," you corrected, "I have money—"

"Don't want it."

"I can offer you my assistance in—"

"Don't need it."

"Tell me what you need,” you requested softly.

"I need to know you're gonna show me this 'great appreciation' you promised,” he answered quickly. “I need to know that if I take care of you, then you'll take care of me."

You gulped but nodded. "O-of course…"

"Good."

He released you from his grip and stood up, smiling at you like nothing had even happened.

"Pleasure doing business with you, madam."

You stood up and left his office in a haze, unsure if what had just happened was a dream or reality. But, sure enough, he showed up the next day where you’d told him to meet you, and brought some money and fake passports that you desperately needed. Frankly, just having a man around was going to make things smoother for you, even if it was a white man who didn’t exactly blend in by any stretch of the imagination. Seeing him again the next day only reminded you how big he was, tall but moreso heavy with muscle; he looked pretty cramped in his tiny coach seat on the plane to Dubai (your connecting stop where you’d spend the night before flying out to Riyadh).

“Bloody mary, please,” he requested from the stewardess with a gentle nod, turning to you.

“Uh, just water, thanks,” you ordered quickly with a tilted smile. You had brought a book to read, but Ari insisted on barraging you with personal questions about your job, your personal life, your favorite things— he seemed fascinated by the most mundane things, and disinterested in giving his own backstory.

Of course you considered that it wasn’t a great idea to tell him so much about yourself, let him in your head and under your skin. But then again, you’d put your trust in him enough for the mission, so you ought to trust him completely, right?

So why did his stare send shivers up your spine?

There was room for you and Ari at a CIA safehouse outside Dubai; it wasn’t exactly luxurious or anything, but at least you weren’t going to have to share a room… or a bed.

Normally staying in a safehouse meant sharing common areas with a random assortment of other agents, but it being a Friday night in Dubai meant they were all out enjoying the local nightlife while you two stayed in. Hoping to review a game plan for the mission with him, you found Ari’s door open, peeking around to see him on his knees on the floor, a candle burning before him, and his hands raised to cover his eyes and face.

“Shema Yisrael,” he sung to himself below his breath, “Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Ehad…”

He jumped a little when he uncovered and opened his eyes only to find you standing there. “Shabbat Shalom,” you greeted.

“Shabbat Shalom,” he nodded back.

“I’m sorry you’re forced to take your Shabbat alone,” you apologized, “and that there’s nobody other than me to appreciate your vocal chops.”

His cheeks tinged pink at that. “It’s all part of the sacrifices we make for our missions, eh?”

“Then I suppose you don’t mind that you’ll be doing plenty of work tomorrow,” you presumed.

“You probably realized by now that I’m not actually so traditional,” he chuckled, extinguishing the candle and standing up. “I work on the sabbath quite a lot.”

“I hear work is permitted if it is needed to save a life.”

He smiled, but he looked a little sad; maybe not sad, but tired. “With me, it always is.”

The silence was thick as you tried to reconcile that this was the same man that had grabbed and threatened you— was it a threat? You couldn’t even tell anymore. Apparently he wasn’t going to take whatever it was that he wanted until you’d finished the mission, and that should’ve made it easier to procrastinate your worry, but the extra time to ponder what it was actually going to be only brought further anxiety.

Of course, you had an idea of what he was going to ask of you, but the fact that nothing too untoward had happened in his office when you first met him was throwing you off. In that moment, you were just waiting for him to tell you to get on your knees and show him how bad you wanted these women rescued, but he didn’t. Wouldn’t have been the first time somebody tried to bribe you into sex; it would’ve been the first time, however, that you actually considered doing it.

Now, the anticipation just made it worse; you were working with him every day and he always acted normal, as if there wasn’t this looming threat of whatever favor he was going to ask from you in return.

Once you actually got to work the next day, it was easier not to think about that. You barely had any extra brainpower to think about anything except survival and extraction. Still, each time you looked at him only to find him already looking at you, your hands shook a little.

“You’ve been driving for 10 hours, you’re sure you don’t want me to take the wheel?” you offered, watching him blink a few times to clear his vision.

“Not worth getting arrested,” he frowned.

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“Not worth the risk of getting caught. And I don’t know about you, but if I get arrested here, I’ll probably be killed, too.”

You chewed your lip as you appreciated that it was probably worth avoiding as much trouble as possible. It’s not like the CIA was popular in these parts, either, and for good reason.

“What’s that up ahead?” he asked, leaning further forward against the steering wheel and squinting.

“Um,” you stalled as you unfolded the paper map in your lap, “I’m… not sure.”

“Looks like a barricade,” he announced, and it did; a gate with two guards and barbed wire on either side.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you reminded him as you frantically shuffled around the map, making sure you were where you thought you were and that there wasn’t a mark indicating a vehicle stop on the road.

“What do we do?” he asked, looking around as if he was considering veering off the path even though that would be equally dangerous.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you repeated, more anxiously.

“Well, there is,” he replied, his own agitation clearly increasing, “so we’ll have to go through it.”

“They’re going to pull us over.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

“And they will search the back of the truck.”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t. How well do you think they’re gonna take it when they see eighty-something women packed like sardines?”

You chuckled a little even though you were anything but amused. “Um, not good.”

As the men at the stop waved to signal your car to slow down, Ari sighed a little. "I'll ask once again: what do we do?"

"Act natural," you suggested quickly as you lifted the scarf draped around your head to cover your nose and mouth.

Ari slowed down to a stop, lowering the window to talk to the officer outside and putting on a fake English accent. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Identification please,” he requested sternly. Ari smiled as he grabbed his and your passports, handing them over through the window. It was a long, awkward moment as he flipped through the thick papers slowly, his partner leaning down to look through your window but never taking his hands off his gun. “What brings you out here?” the man finally asked.

“My wife and I operate a restaurant in Jordan, and we get most of our equipment here because the workmanship is better,” Ari explained. “Just passing through with our new stoves and oven hood.”

The officer glanced back over your truck, his expression mostly unreadable but overall not necessarily friendly-looking. “Could you step out of the vehicle please?”

“Hal hdha daruri?” you asked quickly; Is this necessary?

“Alsamt,” he replied in a hiss; Silence.

Ari looked around like he was thinking but nodded and reached for the handle to his door. You did the same, the second guard stepping out of your way so you could swing open the rusted metal and step out.

The men guided for you to circle the car with them, stopping at the back and staring at the metal sliding door that was latched shut.

Turning to address Ari, the guard’s face dropped completely as he got a bit more serious. “What am I going to find in your vehicle?”

“Kitchen supplies, like I said,” Ari insisted.

As the officer reached for the latch on the back of the truck, Ari shot you a wide-eyed look and you gave him a quick nod. He lunged at the second guard, wrestling him for his gun while you went after the first, who was much easier to take down with him being distracted by trying to unlock the back of the truck. Your CIA instincts told you to shoot him once you’d grabbed his weapon, but thankfully you knocked him out with the butt of it instead.

Loud pops of gunfire beside you made you fear the worst, but Ari had managed to push the gun toward the sky before pulling it out of the officer’s grasp, swinging it wildly until it made contact with his head and he fell to the ground.

Gun in hand and panting heavily, Ari looked back at you with a grin. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You almost got shot,” you reminded him.

“A little more than almost,” he corrected, showing you a gash where a bullet had grazed arm.

“Shit, Ari!” you yelped, running over to him and inspecting the wound. The way he looked down at you as you clutched him made you sort of regret it, though.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, but he made no effort to push you away.

“I… should check on the girls,” you decided, a little bit distracted but making your way back to the truck to roll up the metal back and examine the women inside, who looked scared at first but relaxed when they saw you.

“Kli shay' ealaa ma yaram,” you assured them that everything was fine, “nahn taqribaan 'iilaa al'urduni, wasawf nasil 'iilaa alsafinat allaylat.” We're almost to Jordan and will arrive at the ship tonight.

They relaxed a bit and smiled at you, a few muttered ‘shukraan jazilaan’s (meaning ‘thank you’) echoing from inside. You hated to shut the back and plunge them into darkness again, but they had assured you before that they would brave any conditions for a chance at freedom. You hoped they meant it.

“Please, let me drive, you’re injured,” you offered to Ari as he started to make his way toward the driver’s side door.

“It’s not even that bad, and we’ve had enough run-ins with the law today,” he dismissed.

“Then let me patch you up first, okay? Is that so terrible?”

He smiled a little. “No, I guess not.”

And that was how you ended up leaning on him in the passenger seat, supergluing his arm shut, trying not to think about how his bicep was probably bigger than your head.

“You’re a pretty good medic,” he observed, speaking quietly since you were so close.

“When you’re as clumsy as I am, you have to be,” you responded, sounding monotone due to focusing mostly on your work. “It shouldn’t scar too—”

You stopped when you looked up at him, because the way he was staring back down at you made you completely devoid of the ability to speak or even conjure words in your mind. You’d never seen him so close before and those piercing blue eyes made your head spin.

“What were you gonna say?” he asked softly,

“It… shouldn’t scar too bad,” you finished, “as long as you keep it clean and dry.”

“I generally aim to keep my entire body clean and dry,” Ari chuckled.

“Right, yeah, well— keep up the good work, then,” you stammered as you wrapped some gauze around his arm and rolled his sleeve back down over it.

“Let’s hit the road before we waste any more time,” he suggested, and with a nod you leaned back into your seat.

The radio blasting was the only thing keeping both of you awake as you drove through the dark. The border to Jordan was easy enough, and both of you sighed with relief as you crossed into Israel. It was by far the biggest blockade you’d seen so far, but of course, Ari got you in faster than you’d moved through anything else.

“Good to be home?” you asked when you saw Ari smiling as he looked around at the streetlights through the windshield.

“You could say that,” he answered. “Think we have time to stop for falafel before we get to the port?”

“Not unless you plan on buying for all your passengers,” you laughed, motioning toward the back. “If they have to wait until we reach the ship, so do we.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he relented. “Besides, probably better to be seen by as few people as possible. Even if we’re in friendly territory, it’s still a covert operation and all.”

“Wow, so you do have some desire to play by the rules,” you gasped in faux shock. He smiled and shrugged a bit.

“More like the rules and my desires occasionally overlap.”

It was past midnight when you pulled into the port, surrounded by ships so big that you couldn’t see the tops of them from inside the car. A cargo ship was waiting for you, along with some Navy men who helped you escort the women onto the vessel.

Since it wasn’t meant to accommodate this many people, the refugees occupied extra crew space while you and Ari were given sleeping bags in an unused office; you were so tired, though, that it actually looked enticing.

As soon as you’d set your pack down and shut the door, you heard a distant horn and felt the ship begin to move. You let out a long sigh as you leaned against the desk, watching Ari take a seat in the chair and start laughing exhaustedly.

“We did it,” you smiled, “we fucking did it.”

“We’ve still got a long boat ride ahead of us,” Ari mitigated, “but yeah… we should be in the clear, and tomorrow afternoon we’ll be in sunny Cyprus.”

You were so elated from the high of a successful mission that you forgot to worry about Ari’s vague request all those weeks ago; it was probably the first time you hadn’t thought about it since then, truthfully. That changed when his smile fell as he looked up at you, eyes darkening a little and scanning your body.

“You’re a great agent,” he nodded slowly, “and an incredible woman. You saved a lot of people tonight.”

You shifted nervously under the weight of his stare, but tried to hide your discomfort. “I… couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know,” he informed you coldly, standing up and approaching you. “I think I’ve gone above and beyond on my end of our deal.”

A pit formed in your stomach, growing with each step he took towards you. His eyes stayed trained on you except for when he glanced to the side to flip on the radio, American music suddenly piping through the speakers.

— discord and rhyme, I’m on the hunt, I’m after you…

You looked to the radio as well but his hand gently guided your jaw until you looked back at him; he was closer than ever, and you had to look up to meet his gaze, shivering as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip slowly.

“Are you good for your end of the deal?” he asked lowly.

And I’m hungry like the wolf…

You swallowed, hoping it would somehow ease the ache in your gut as you realized what was about to happen, before nodding meekly.

He smirked a little. “Good girl,” he praised, only a bit louder than a whisper, as his hand moved to cradle your face. “You want me, don’t you?”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out how you were supposed to answer that. “I want to repay you, for all you’ve done for me.”

“No, not just that,” he disagreed, “you want me. I know you do. You don’t need to hide it, we’re alone…”

Hesitant but catching on to his desires, you nodded a little.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Ari,” you whispered.

It felt like forever waiting for him to kiss you as he leaned in slowly, eyes half-lidded and dark but never leaving you. As his lips brushed against yours, you finally let your eyes flutter shut and reciprocated his kiss. His hands felt especially big as one slipped behind your neck and the other rested on your waist; in fact, with the way you had to crane your head up to kiss him back, all of him felt big. Including the part you were pretty sure just bumped against the inside of your thigh.

His kiss was soft and patient but determined, slow but somehow still moving faster than you were ready for. You gingerly reached up and rested your hands on his shoulders; they were strong and warm beneath your touch, even through his shirt. You couldn’t think of the last time you’d been kissed like this, or held so tenderly like this, but then again, you were also sure that nobody had scared you like this in a long time, either. For a woman who always knew what to do in a dangerous situation, you couldn’t seem to get a read on Ari Levinson— mostly because you didn’t truly believe he was dangerous. But maybe you should.

When his hands reached up to start unbuttoning your blouse, you pushed him back a little.

"N-not here," you protested, "someone could hear, or walk in."

"There's nowhere else to go, and I'm not waiting 'til Cyprus. I need you now."

He kissed you again before you could respond, more forceful and desperate. You let him work open your shirt this time, his fingers dancing over your skin as he pulled it off your shoulders and tossed it aside. The feeling of him working your bra open made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but his tongue slipping into your mouth distracted you and before you knew it, it was gone as well. Your nipples hardened in the cold air— or maybe they’d been that way already, for whatever reason— but they reacted even stronger to his thick fingers gently pinching them as his palms cupped your breasts.

You gasped against his mouth a bit, your breathing getting heavier as he moved his hands down to your trousers. The idea of being naked when he was still fully-dressed scared you, but you didn’t have time to think about that anymore when he pulled back to drop to his knees, taking your pants and underwear to the floor with him.

He looked back up at you with a mischievous grin as you cautiously stepped out of them. After guiding you to sit up on the table, neither of you stopping to consider how rude it was to put your bare ass on somebody’s desk in a borrowed ship, he slowly parted your legs. As he kissed a trail inside your thigh, you felt your hands clutch the edge of the table tightly with anticipation. You felt so exposed with his face right there, to the point that your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and yet you couldn't manage to tear your eyes away from his as he leaned in to lick you teasingly with the tip of his tongue.

"Fuck," you shivered, feeling your inner walls quiver as he moved so delicately. You kept waiting for him to really get into it but he was determined to stay gentle and slow, circling your bud for one glorious moment before stopping again. "Ari, please," you whispered without even realizing you’d said it.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked darkly, his voice deep and gravelly as he ran his hands up the back of your legs.

Your begging whimper was so pathetic you could hardly believe you were hearing yourself. "More, please…"

He dove right in after that, suddenly latching onto your clit and letting his tongue explore every fold, every wrinkle, every sensitive spot with thick, wide licks. Your head fell back and your hands jumped to weave into his hair— that gorgeous fucking hair that had driven you halfway insane. It was soft between your fingers, and in this light you could see the touches of red, blonde, and maybe even grey scattered into the brunette. Better yet was the way he moaned against you when you accidentally pulled it, your hands clenching into fists against his scalp each time he sucked on your clit just right.

"Ari, baby, fuck," you groaned, feeling your hips shift a little as if to try to get more of yourself in his mouth.

Sensation was sparking under your skin faster than you knew what to do with it, faster than you had ever figured out on your own, and definitely faster than anybody else had ever managed. You felt your body shaking and couldn’t suppress it at all, every part of you (inside and out) quivering uncontrollably. It would’ve been embarrassing except that he seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, egging you on with his tight grip on your thighs, and his deep moans that reverberated over your body, and the way his brow furrowed like it almost pained him to see you like this. Your back arched so dramatically that he had to hold onto your hips tight to keep you in his mouth, but he managed to maintain what he'd been doing— in fact, he didn't stop even when you started to whine and cry, feet digging into his back as you tried not to explode from the overstimulation on your sensitive clit.

"S-stop, s'too much, can't take it," you pleaded, looking down at him.

He looked back up at you with dark, dilated eyes that said 'you're gonna take it.' His tongue lapped at you with renewed vigor, sending you tumbling over the edge again and again and again.

Tears were streaming down your face when he finally relented, standing up slowly and staring you down as he wiped his face with the back of his hand; your arousal had coated his mouth and most of his beard, too. You bit down on your lip to stop it from shaking as he slotted himself between your legs again, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and smiling as he watched your gaze trail down every inch of newly-exposed skin.

You knew he was in good shape, because it was always obvious, but you still shivered a little when you were greeted with chiseled muscles, dusty-blonde hair, a few stray freckles and scars, and last but not least, the gauze wrapping on his arm where you’d patched him up before. It was nice to see a piece of your handiwork on something so flawless, like how it must feel to design the frame that holds a Monet. Your mouth was even watering as you followed the trail of hair down to where it was interrupted by his jeans, which were misshapen with the unmistakable outline of his neglected cock. Either you could actually hear it throbbing, or that was just your heartbeat in your ears as he made a show of undoing his buckle and fly slowly.

A breath caught in your throat as he slid the jeans down and kicked them off with his boots, his cock bouncing up against the bottom of his abs once he’d freed it. You hoped to hide your intimidation, but you must have failed from the way he smirked and licked his lips as he stepped forward and pressed it against your stomach; you felt a little dizzy seeing the head of it reach past your bellybutton. "That's how deep I'm gonna be in you, baby."

For all his delicacy and tenderness in everything before now, he must have had a change of heart; with a little growl, he pushed all the way into you with one brutal thrust, watching darkly as your head fell back in a choked scream. He didn’t stop for very long, either, setting up a pace that was slow but unyielding, his length filling every part of you and then some with each slam of his hips into yours.

He grabbed your hair tightly and suddenly, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him. He licked and sucked along your pulse until you were shaking against him, nails accidentally digging into his shoulders a little bit as you held onto him.

His lips trailed up to pull you into a frenzied, sloppy kiss, your mouth slack wide for him to explore however he wanted.

"Tell me how it feels," he growled against your lips.

It feels like my body is on fire but I like it. It feels like you're shaping my insides to fit you exactly how you want. It feels like you might split me in half before you're done with me, but if you stop now I'll fall apart even worse.

His grip on your hair tightened at your lack of response. "Gettin' fucked too good to answer me, huh? So full of my cock you can't even speak. Is that right, pretty baby?"

You nodded as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your hoarse moans and sobs muffled by his skin.

"Aw, poor thing," he purred, wrapping his arms around your back. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke to you in a deep mumble, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine with each word. "You don't have to tell me, I know how it feels… you're so wet that you're fucking dripping, your needy little pussy is clamping down on me like it's the end of the fucking world, and you're screaming for me so loud I bet half the ship can hear you. I know how it feels, baby; it feels so good that you're already about to come for me."

You gasped as he pushed you to lay back on the table, hoisting your legs up over his shoulders; you felt a bit whorish seeing your legs up in the air like that, especially when he leaned to the side to plant a wet kiss on your calf.

Soon he was letting your legs slip back down to his hips, leaning over you and caging you in with his thick arms, watching your face as he started to fuck you harder. His long hair was at risk of tickling you as it fell down beside your face, but it was that Star of David necklace that was dangling from his neck and swinging right in your face with every thrust. Slightly annoyed by it hitting your face from time to time, you stuck out your tongue to catch it, holding it between your teeth and finding that biting down on it helped you cope with the slight pain of him so deep inside you anyways.

"Baby," he moaned, inspired by the sight to grab your hips even tighter and slam into you even harder. "Fuck, I'm close," he hissed. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby, gonna ruin you for anybody else, huh?"

"Yes, Ari," you whimpered. "I'm close, too…"

"Go ahead, pretty girl, wanna feel how tight you get when you come— when I make you come."

Trying to hold it back only made it hit you harder, and as your moans grew louder and your body began to shake, you felt your walls flutter and flex intensely. He pulled his necklace out of your mouth and kissed you suddenly; it kept you grounded as you feared that the rest of you would float away, lost in pleasure so thoroughly that you'd never come back to reality. His moans mixed with yours as they moved between your tongues, and just when you thought you'd break into pieces if he didn't slow down, you felt his movements stutter and his cock pump inside you. You couldn't feel the warmth of it because you were already so hot all over, but the way his cock swelled as he came was unmistakable and overwhelmingly erotic.

He broke the kiss but didn't pull away, catching his breath while he stayed inside you, resting his forehead against yours.

After cooling off for a moment, he scooped your limp body into his arms and lifted you into his chest; you wrapped around him and let him carry you to the other side of the room where he set you down on the pallet sleeping bags and blankets. You whimpered as he pulled out, his softening cock still big enough to make you wince. The gush of warm, sticky come made your cheeks burn even if it also sent a dulled tingle of arousal up your spine. He was gentlemanly enough to wipe you off with a towel, mumbling something about how pretty you looked stuffed with his come, but you couldn't really focus on any of that because you were still waiting for sensation to return to your numbed extremities— brain included.

He turned his head and laid it on your chest, and you found yourself absent-mindedly scratching his scalp with your nails.

"That's nice," he whispered, but you could tell that already by the way his skin was erupting into goosebumps, and the way he held you tighter.

You must've laid like that for hours, or maybe it was just a few minutes, but it was one of those moments that felt like a piece of forever. He lifted his head to look up at you, pulling you down a bit so his face hovered over yours.

"What's next for you after you get these women to Greece?" he asked quietly.

You chewed your lip as you thought about that. "Back to DC, I figure, and then wherever they send me next. I hear they might want me undercover in Cuba or Russia…"

"How often do you end up in Jerusalem?"

You squirmed a little beneath him, but he slipped his arm under your neck and pulled you closer; how were you supposed to think with his bicep right by your face like that? "Uh, not often, but if I'm in town I'll give you a call—"

"Come with me," he requested softly. "Get to Cyprus, go to Greece, and then meet me in Tel Aviv."

"Ari, I can't—"

"Why not?"

You laughed a little, but he clearly wasn’t joking. "Because I have a job?"

"You won't need a job," he shrugged, "I make good money and you can just live with me."

Your throat went dry as you stammered, trying to figure out if he had seriously just asked you to quit your job and move in with him.

"You'll like Israel. You speak some Hebrew don't you?"

"Uhh, yeah but—"

"Then what's stopping you?"

You couldn't answer because you didn't even know where to start with all the things that were stopping you. Your mouth opened and closed silently like a fish out of water, and he laughed at you lightly.

"Just say yes," he encouraged gently, and your heart twisted as you wondered if this was part of the deal, if you needed to do everything he wanted to keep him on your side. You were on an Israeli ship, sailing international waters; if he changed his mind now, he could still sell you out and have these people arrested or worse. But he wouldn't do that, right?

Perhaps the more important question was not 'would he do that?' but rather 'are you willing to find out?'

"Yes," you heard yourself answer before you even realized you were considering it.

He grinned, hugging you tightly. He was already rambling about how great it was going to be and how he would spoil you all the time and maybe find a way to get you hired as a contractor at Mossad so he could bring you along on missions, but you couldn't hear it past the ringing in your ears. You desperately needed sleep, and his arms were warm and welcoming as you drifted off. He kissed your forehead before letting his eyes fall shut as well, joining you in unconsciousness.

The swaying of the ship was like being rocked to sleep, so much so that you slept for an uncharacteristically long time: you were just a few hours out from your destination when you awoke, in fact.

Instead of getting up and attempting to acquire some food, you laid there staring up at the ceiling as his heavy arm draped over your chest. Even in his sleep he had power over you, refused to let you go. You tried to remember how you'd ended up in this situation but instead you found yourself fantasizing about a chance at love. After running around the world for so long, there weren't many good men left to settle down with. And Ari was maybe not an entirely good man, but you believed him when he said he would treat you well. You'd shacked up with a lot worse in your time, when you were young and reckless and thought the worst thing you could be was alone. Still, a long-suppressed desire for companionship was awakening in your mind and you weren't going to swallow it back down this time. Smiling, you lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. If what he wanted in exchange for his cooperation was your affection, you could do that.

#ari levinson x reader #dark!ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut #chris evans x reader #ari levinson x you

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lemonmeringuecry · 3 years

Text

The Cubs at Disneyland

Hi, so I've been trying to do this for awhile (ever since I drew Lo in a Mickey Mouse hoodie) but when the queen herself, miss Hazel, said she needs them to go to Disney... well I wrote this. And drew it. Because I'm me.

So anyway, here's the drawing and below is the fic

Tw for a couple mentions of food but I think that's it

Credit for everything @lumosinlove

Leo bounced a bit on the balls of his feet, goofy smile at full force while he waited to board the plane. He had grown up going to Disney World with his family. Living in Louisiana, Florida wasn’t too far away, and Eloise and Wyatt Knut didn’t let being adults stop them from enjoying the magic of Disney. When Leo was born, his parents were beyond excited about the prospect of going as a family, getting mickey ears, collecting pins, and making memories.

The first time he went, Leo was five, his favorite Disney movie was the lion king, and an expression of pure joy was permanent in his pale, blue eyes. Over the four days they were in the parks he got to go on rides, eat themed sweets, and meet his favorite characters.

After that first trip, Eloise started a scrap book. The book, titled ‘Disney World 2006’, was soon filled with pictures of Leo at the entrance gate, Leo with pineapple dole whip halfway to his mouth, and countless of all three of them taken by the photographers.

A favorite picture of Eloise’s was near the back, this one of her son with Simba. When Leo had spotted the cast member dressed as his favorite character, he all but threw himself at the lion costume clad employee. Leo’s mama had taken many pictures of the two lion cubs together and they were beyond adorable.

There are more scrap books from 2008, 2011, 2014, and 2017. Throughout the years of pictures Leo never looks less than ecstatic. Even though New Orleans will forever remain his favorite place in the world, Disney is a close second to home, which is why this trip with his boys is such a big deal for him.

The Lions are currently on a short break in the season after their game against the Coyotes and the cubs are going to spend a few days at Disneyland in Anaheim.

Finn reaches forward to grab Leo’s hand who is standing in line in front of him.

“Sunshine, are you excited?” He asks. Leo tilts his head around to look at his boyfriend and nods eagerly.

“We’ll take that as a yes,” logan chuckles sleepily from behind Finn where he is standing with his head resting on the red head’s back. Evidently waking up at 6:00 in the morning to drive to the airport wasn’t ideal for him.

Leo lets out a low, impatient groan, still bouncing, “I need to be there like right now. Can’t we get on the plane already?”.

“We haven’t even been waiting that long. I think they’re about to call our section though, Peanut,” Finn answers him, trying not to let his amusement show too much.

A crinkly noise cuts off Leo’s response, “Now boarding rows 1-10,” a voice says from over the loudspeaker. Leo stands up straighter and turns to his boyfriends, “that’s us!”

“I know Nutter-Butter, go on, let’s get you to Disney!” Finn says as he pats Leo’s butt lightly, moving him forward, onto the jet bridge.

The boys get settled into their seats, Finn by the window, Logan in the middle for maximum cuddles, and Leo on the aisle for the leg room. For the first half of the flight Logan sleeps while Finn and Leo share a movie, but all three boys are wide awake by the time the flight attendants come around with drinks for the second time. The rest of the flight is spent chatting about practices coming up after the break, things they need for the apartment, and what they are going to do first upon arriving.

Once getting off the plane in California, they take the shuttle from John Wayne Airport to the Disneyland hotels. They are staying in the Adventure Land tower, closest to the park. By this point all three boys are buzzing with the infectious happiness of Disney. After unpacking and getting settled into their hotel room, the cubs proceed with their plans of shopping and getting dinner in Downtown Disney. First thing on the agenda is to procure mouse ears. Logan, Finn, and Leo make their way to World of Disney in order to find the widest selection of ears. Leo has a collection of his own ears at home, including his favorite pride Minnie ears, but for this trip he wants to get new ones along with Logan and Finn. Leo and Finn decide on classic Mickey ear hats, while Logan picks out Minnie ears with a lavender bow. They all get sweatshirts too, as is custom.

After a pleasant evening of enjoying the atmosphere and getting dinner at Ralph Brennan’s Jazz Kitchen (Leo’s offense towards their attempt at Cajun cuisine is only partially a joke), they call it night. They head back to the hotel, brush their teeth, put on pajamas, and cuddle up in bed. After a busy day the three boys quickly fall asleep, full of anticipation for the day ahead.

Something you should know about Leo is that when it comes to Disney, he is hard core. Their first morning there is an early entry in Disneyland park.

“Rise and shine, party people!” Leo calls as he entera the main part of the hotel room from the bathroom. Logan and Finn are just now waking up, but they aren’t remotely tired. The pure excitement radiating off their boyfriend is contagious as well as the promise of a day of fun.

“Butter baby, how long have you been up?” Finn’s question is alarmed yet distinctly amused.

“Since 5:30,” Leo responds off-handedly. Logan and Finn share a look, then turn it on Leo. Undeterred, Leo spins slowly in a circle in order to show off his carefully constructed outfit. He is wearing his favorite light wash Levi’s, paired with the crewneck he bought yesterday (light gray with vintage looking Mickey & friends). Underneath his sweatshirt he is wearing his Pizza Planet t-shirt, ready for when it gets hot later. Leo’s outfit is accessorized with his new Mickey ear hat, white air Jordan 1’s, and his Tinker Bell lanyard filled with pins from over the years.

“These things take time! Now y’all go get dressed, we have to be in line by 6:45,” Leo says. With that both Finn and Logan get out of bed and into their clothes in record time. On their way out of the room, they pick up their ears and backpacks from the desk by the TV.

After a brief stop at the Starbucks in Downtown Disney, the boys make it into the que of people lining up at the entrance gate. Once 7:00 hits, the lines start to move into the park. As Logan, Finn, and Leo enter, they gaze around in awe. At the end of Mainstreet sits Sleeping Beauty’s castle, tall and glorious. They walk hand in hand down the lane of colorful, old fashioned buildings, chatting excitedly about what to do first.

“Alright babes, what’s up on the agenda?” Finn asks.

“I don’t even know the options, what do you say Le?” Logan continues.

They end up heading over to Tomorrow Land first. They go on Star Tours and Space Mountain while the lines are short, then bounce around Fantasy land as they make their way across the park. Around 8:30 all three boys start to get hungry so they grab a bag or two of beignets from New Orleans Square. After breakfast, they hit their favorites in Adventure land (Finn fucking loves Indiana Jones), Frontier Land (Big Thunder Mountain Railroad is a fan favorite), and New Orleans Square (Logan might not stop singing ‘Yo Ho a Pirate’s Life for Me’ for weeks).

Around noon the cubs exit Disneyland Park and walk across to California Adventure. After lunch at Wine Country Trattoria the boys bop around Cars Land, Hollywood Land, Pacific Warf and Grizzly Peak. The lines are a lot longer now that it’s afternoon, so they take it in stride and spend their waiting time talking, cuddling, and playing games. They end up going on almost every ride as well as hitting the extra good ones twice like Incredicoaster and Guardians of the Galaxy (still a fan-fucking-tastic ride but Leo misses the Twilight Zone theme).

By the time they finish up in California Adventure for the day, it’s almost time for Fantasmic, and Leo has yet to tell his boys that he got them reserved seats. The cubs meander back to Disneyland but when they start to near Frontier Land Finn picks up the pace.

“Sweetheart, what’s the hurry?” Leo asks with a knowing smile.

“I wanna get good seats for Fantasmic, I haven’t seen it since I was little!” Finn replies.

“Orgasmic? I like the sound of that,” Logan slides in with a smirk.

“Baby, no!” His boyfriends exclaim at the same time. Logan giggles which gets Leo and Finn laughing as well.

“And Finn, I got us seat reservations for the show so no need to rush,” Leo tells him. Finn’s response is to jump on Leo with a fierce hug and a drawn out “Yay,”.

The cubs enjoy the water show immensely, all snuggled up and bundled in sweatshirts once again to fend off the cool evening air. They point out little details to each other with intertwined hands and gasp aloud at the pretty fireworks. Once Fantasmic is over they do a few more rides, then head back to the hotel, sleepy after a full day. The boys fall asleep quickly again, ready to do it all again the next day.

#my art #writing #lumosinlove #o'knutzy #leo knut #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #disneyland #coast to coast #sweater weather #harry potter fanart #lumosinlove fanart #fanart

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slytherinbarnes · 3 years

Text

Sub Rosa [95]

xi. etherea

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: language, angst, anxiety.

Summary: an unexpected reunion shocks you in more ways than one.

a/n: I can’t believe we’re on 95!!! how are we so close to the end omg??!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

Word of Anders' death and Diyoza’s sacrifice travels quickly, and Cadogan comes to find all of you, shocked and still standing outside the machine room door. You are all led to his personal quarters, encouraged to eat and sleep and rest, with the promise to meet again in a few hours. Miller, Raven, Hope, Jordan, and Niylah all crash in the giant bedroom, but you, Clarke, Octavia, Echo, and Gabriel are all too wired or hungry to sleep, and you sit together in the large dining room of the Shepherd. It’s not long before food, real food, not just nutrition bars, is brought to you, and you look it over before you exchange a look with the others. “They were capable of food like this the whole time? Why the hell were we eating all that bland stuff?”

“Guess they didn't want to waste it on some low level disciples.”

You wish you had enough of an appetite to eat the first real meal that’s been offered to you in ages, but your stomach is tied in knots, wrapped tight with anxiety. You shake your head and plop into a seat beside Clarke, her eyes locked on a wall across the room, and you reach out to squeeze her hand, trying to pull her out of her head. Gabriel and Octavia each take a seat at the table while Echo remains standing, choosing to pace the room as her brain processes the last few hours and what she nearly did before you all arrived. Diyoza’s death hangs over the room like a wet blanket, and though you only knew her for a few months, it still hurts you to know that she’s gone. It hurts you worse when you realize the loss that Octavia and Hope must be feeling.

Octavia sits and picks at her food, unable to stomach it right now, but Gabriel sits nearby, hungrily eating anything within his reach, looking over all of you with a nod. “Thank God for the Flame. Doubt they'd serve us saji bowls in jail.”

Octavia eventually gives up on the prospect of stomaching anything, dropping her spoon into her bowl and looking at Gabriel in disbelief. “How could you eat right now?”

Echo looks over at Gabriel, reminding you and him of a memory that feels so long ago now, when Orlando was preparing you for your mission to Bardo. “He can always eat.”

If it were any other moment, you’d laugh. But with Diyoza’s death over your head and the looming possibility for severe punishment for both Hope and Echo, you’re too tense to laugh. Clarke must think the same thing, because she abruptly stands from her chair and glances over at the only man in the room. “Gabriel's right. If they didn't believe I had the Flame, we'd be in cells.”

She starts to cross the room, towards the door, and you stand and call out to her. “Where are you going?”

“To wake the others. It's time to go back to Sanctum.”

Gabriel glances her way, pausing his feast to shake his head. “Clarke, we're under house arrest.”

“I'm aware of that. I'm also aware our leverage disappears the moment he puts me in front of that stone.”

You lock eyes with your twin, starting to guess where this is going. “So what are you gonna do?”

“I'm gonna offer to do it as soon as the rest of you are safely back on Sanctum.”

Octavia stands, instantly disagreeing, “Clarke, they'll kill you.”

Echo adds, “You are not sacrificing yourself for us.”

You stare at your twin, shaking your head, letting her know her plan is completely out of the question. “You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m leaving you here with these people.”

She doesn't get the chance to argue back, because the door behind her slides open, and someone announces, “Make way for the Shepherd.”

You take the few steps separating you and Clarke, so you can stand by her side, and Octavia shifts closer to the two of you. Gabriel stands and moves around the table, along with Echo, all of you united on one side, mentally preparing yourselves for anything. As the disciples step into the room, they move apart, making room for Bill before a few more disciples pull up the rear. As soon as Clarke locks eyes with Bill, she starts, “We need to talk. I'm ready to help you, but only after my friends are…”

She trails off when Cadogan turns and motions towards the door, and confused, you all turn to see what he’s motioning towards, watching as a heavily bearded man in a large coat shuffles into the room. It takes a second for you to recognize him, your eyes finding the freckles along his face and the warm eyes beneath an unruly mop of hair, but as soon as you recognize him, you nearly collapse, reaching out for Clarke as you mutter, “Bellamy?”

He nods a little, confirming what you already knew, and you swear all of the air leaves your lungs. Your knees feel weak, tears springing to your eyes and spilling over your face as your body starts to move, you and Octavia both walking towards him. But in doing so, you trigger a reaction from the room full of guards, all of them lifting weapons towards you, freezing you in place. You stare at him, stunned, and your brain struggles to form more words, stumbling over a long list of questions before you manage to gasp, “How?”

Echo, sounding just as shocked, adds, “We saw you die.”

Octavia shifts a little, and you can hear her sniffle as she stares at her big brother, in awe to see that he is alive and well. “It's hard to keep the Blakes down.”

The room is silent, no one sure what to say, but from the corner of your eye, you see Clarke glancing at you and Octavia, able to see that the two of you are practically buzzing, unable to hold back your reunions much longer. She turns her gaze to Bill, using her status as the chosen one to demand, “Let them hug him.”

He stares at her for a long second, and you think he’s going to say no, but then a smile crosses his features and he commands, “Stand down.”

You turn to look at Octavia, whose eyes are on you and you nod towards Bellamy, knowing she likely wants to hug her brother first. She smiles at you in thanks before stepping forward and tugging him into a hug, and you watch on with a smile, happy to see the reunion. Octavia steps away and makes room for you to hug him, and you glance at Clarke before you do, exchanging a silent conversation. Should you warn him? Clarke gives you an imperceptible nod, both of you aware of the dangers of Bellamy accidentally slipping up because he’s not in the loop. You’re lucky Gabriel was in the room when Clarke arrived, able to clue her in to play along, saving all of your lives as you work to get off Bardo. You step forward and pull Bellamy into your arms, relishing in the feel of him, smiling as his arms wrap around your back, returning the hug. A hug that is five years, three months, and two days in the making. A hug that you have longed for since you first arrived on Skyring. A hug you nearly drowned for, learned to play disciple for. You want nothing more than to kiss him, whisk him away to some private room and tell him everything, show him how much you’ve missed him, but you know you’ll have time for that later. Right now, you have an audience and you have a mission, so you lean forward and whisper into his ear, “The key is the Flame. They think it's still in Clarke’s head, say nothing.”

You pull away with a smile, your eyes never leaving Bellamy as Cadogan announces, “I hope that now you're ready to help us, Clarke. Too much blood has been spilled. Each death is a child of Earth who won't transcend. I'll give you time to reunite while we make preparations.”

Clarke nods in agreement, and you glance at your twin, tears on her face, just as happy to see her best friend alive. Cadogan turns and starts to leave the room, and just as he reaches the door, Bellamy speaks for the first time, his words shocking you all into silence. “My Shepherd.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open a little, and you see Clarke and Octavia’s smiles drop as you all turn to stare at Bellamy, who has now turned towards Bill. “There's something you should know: Clarke doesn't have the Key. The Flame was destroyed, I'm sorry.”

You swear you’ve never been more stunned in your entire life.

And it’s only later, after Cadogan has the disciples drag everyone into a cell, after your fiance has betrayed you, that you realize something is wrong. You were so blinded by your joy at seeing him alive that you didn't even stop to really process his appearance. Not just the long hair or thick clothes, but the blank expression he gave all of you as soon as he stepped in the room. Any other time he would have burst in and tugged you and Octavia both into hugs, initiating the hugs first, not waiting for you to come to him. But now he just looks at all of you as if you’re a stranger.

And the realization hurts. The betrayal hurts too. You thought Bellamy joining Pike or not telling you about Echo was the worst thing he could ever do to you. But now you see that this is.

Whatever the hell this actually is.

You pray to the Universe that it’s a fluke. He’s playing a part, knows something that you don't.

But something deep in your gut is telling you it’s not a fluke, and he’s not paying an angle.

Deep down, you know that Bellamy is lost to you.

Now, he’s a believer.

Now, he’s a disciple.

Which means that now, he is your enemy.

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction

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soveryanon · 4 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG169 (nice)~

- So, no cookie for guessing Desolation with this one, but big kudos to those who guessed that the episode would be reminiscent of the Grenfell Tower fire. Oh boy, what a domain it was ;; Desolation episodes have always felt extremely cruel and this one went veeerrry harsh on the torture and despair, even before the physical pain of it (as Jon said, “Some fears don’t need to be intensified; only manifested”). I really felt the nightmare-logic in this one, the feeling of being trapped and discovering/realising the rules and parameters as they became relevant; a little scenario that felt repeated, again and again, beginning badly (home as a prison, a toxic place that one cannot help but love because it’s familiar and theirs) and only getting worse, with Sabina losing everything (parents, possessions, physical safety), while at the same time… everything was rooted in something very concrete, very logical, very relatable, laced with poverty and the loss of agency.

- The edge in Jon’s voice for this one was terrifying (and so was the soundscaping, expressing what was being said), and it seemed… on point for The Desolation. Jude directly called him out about the fact that he himself was enjoying the fear but, even before that, the way Jon narrated Sabina’s nightmare really hammered in the cruelty and sadistic glee of the domain feeding on her ;; The mentions of the “landlord” were especially chilling, given a rhythmic, almost casually fatalistic c’est-la-vie tone to the whole ordeal (… while no, clearly, it wasn’t, and even if the fire had been accidental, there should have been ways and options to make it out… but no, due to an accumulation of negligence/neglect turning into something criminal):

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “But the door latch never really aligned properly, you see; the landlord always said he was going to get it fixed and… it refuses to open. […] The window frame never really opened properly, you see; the landlord always said he was going to get it fixed. […] But the fire escape was always really rusty, you see; the landlord always said he was going to replace it. […] Falling back into the inferno that is now her home, Sabina dashes over to the laughably small fire extinguisher the landlord begrudgingly provided; it is sputtering, and empty.”

(… Jon impersonating the parents’ screams sadly took me out of it on first listen, because the “We’re BURNING” immediately made me think of Jonny-playing-Galahad in HNOC’s “Hellfire” and the “We’re FALLING into the flames”, which was a bit of a mood-whiplash x”) It worked better on second listen, and again, WHAT is Jon currently feeding to the tape recorders…)

- Same as in other domains, memories were clearly rewritten or only made accessible to serve the dominant Fear at stake:

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: “Next to him, Charlie saw Ryan, who he’d known since childhood – though the other details were hazy. Ryan gave him a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile – before his face exploded inwards to a sniper’s bullet, peppering the boat with shards of bone and gore.”

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: “There was never a time before the disease, no matter what the old bastards tell you. It has always been in the village, always festered in the dark corners where nobody could stomach to check, where good neighbours wouldn’t dream to speculate.”

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: “Its pace remaining as it ever was, it does not care for coming pains as you are torn. Doesn’t it know who you are? No… And soon… neither will you. […] You will be someone again, someday. […] “I’m still Hannah!” you try to scream, but are you? No. Perhaps there’s some Veronica as fragments there, or Julian, or Anya, but… no. You feel the last of names and “who” you might have been be torn away and borne towards new bodies. New pages, blank; determined to be people.”

(MAG166) ARCHIVIST: “When had the crushing pressure in his chest become literal? When had the empty promise of the horizon finally vanished completely, replaced by the pitch darkness of this “forever wall of earth”? Sam did not know. Time had no meaning here. […] His existence was static, and eternal. Immutable. “Sleep” was only a memory, because even the prospect of unconsciousness might have made his present state slightly more bearable. Food as well, he knew, must be a thing, for he could feel the hunger, but his imagination failed to picture it. The only smell he knew was the damp, and the dirt.”

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “How long as she lived here? How long have these cramped, dingy rooms in the back of this sprawling rundown tenement been the place her heart calls home? She cannot recall, but long enough for her to grow into love for it, to cherish every rusted appliance, every crumbling piece of plasterboard, every – flickering – lightbulb. […] Sabina cannot… picture their faces, but knows that should they wake to see the state of the place… their anger would be blistering. […] What floor was her flat on again? Surely, it can’t be this high. […] Limping and desperate, she turns to see her furniture in flames, the bookshelves full of memories, that she can’t quite place [STATIC RISES] but knows are precious to her, curl and float away as ash. The photos on the wall of her family whose faces seem indistinct but she knows that she loves, begin to blacken, as the glass pops out of the frame.”

For Sabina, memories were only useful to represent what she would lose. (;; It’s one of the things that still makes me the most uneasy with this season: the fact that regular people are deprived of who they used to be, the memories of who they were… while Jon&Martin are beaming with their Uniqueness. People are trapped in these nightmares but, by comparison, it feels a bit like they’re already “dead” and interchangeable, only allowed to remember things and be reshaped to better fear and feed the Powers…)

- I was wondering what would be the point of avatars in this new world (if they would still feed their patrons, or be absolutely superfluous, etc.). The fact that Jude’s death apparently didn’t perturb the Desolation domain very much tends to prove that they aren’t necessary, so it really seems like the keyword was what Oliver said last episode:

(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “Sometimes, for some small variety, I will allow Danika to brush against another root: the final fate of someone she loves. […] And with each one, she knows her steps forward bring closer not only her own end, but all of theirs. Time walks forward with her, but she has not the strength to stop it. Her fate draws ever-nearer, filling me with the joy of watchful fear, but also my own concerns.”

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: It’s a maze in there, deliberately so. People running, desperately struggling for fire escapes only to find them blocked. … We won’t get lost, though. I know the route. […] “Do you smell smoke? Do you smell… the creeping ruin of a life, a stalking creature of unmaintained electricals, of cheap insulation, of cut-corners and missing fire alarms and unenforced safety regulations? Do you see it creeping under the door to your bedroom as you sleep, the burning coals of its eyes, regarding you in the supposed safety on your home; not indifferent, but hungry, eager to take everything from you, to burn down your life in any sense it can reach? Can you hear the crackling promise of kindled despair, that it whispers into your uneasy, dreaming ear?”

“Variety”? Creativity? Diversifying people’s suffering for the Powers’ enjoyment, and above all The Eye’s? I… wonder what that would mean regarding Jon, as The Eye’s favourite, right now… ;;

- I got genuinely surprised that Jon mentioned Arthur Nolan as still alive, because I thought he had been done for since March 2014 and the events recalled by Jordan Kennedy:

(MAG145) GERTRUDE: So. Now, Diego has taken over… Where does that leave you? ARTHUR: [SNORT] Slumlording over a nest. GERTRUDE: Oh. A nest of… what? ARTHUR: Found a mass of the Crawling Rot growing, a while back. Managed to get a hold of the property before it became too big. Gotta wait ‘til it blossoms before we can properly burn it. So until then… just playing landlord.

(MAG055) JORDAN: Time seemed to move slowly as he reached for the ashtray on the arm of the chair and picked up a pack of matches. He struck one and without even looking at me, he gently pressed the small flame to the centre of the scar. His flesh caught fire, immediately, the flames spreading across his body like rippling water. The armchair caught, then the floor, and then I was running out of the building before the rolling inferno could come at me as well.

(MAG169) MARTIN: Right… I just assumed this would be… Who was that landlord guy? ARCHIVIST: Arthur Nolan. He’s here, he has a… part of it, but it’s… huge. Bigger than you could believe. There’s so much fear in there…

It had felt odd to die from self-immolation, for a Desolation avatar, but we hadn’t seen him since then, and he had lived his time – given how Eugene Vanderstock was aware that he wouldn’t last forever (MAG139: “So, me? I was born in ‘36 – I know, I don’t look seventy. But burning the candle at all ends does have a few advantages. Until you burn out entirely, at least. It’s hard to say how much I’ve got left in me; how much longer my sacrifices can buy me. But when I go… you better believe I’m going big – and it is going to hurt.”), I had assumed that Arthur setting himself on fire was because his time has reached its limit and/or that his life had been tied to The Hive’s nest somehow by Gertrude, and that Jane becoming The Hive meant his final demise or something? But apparently, no, he was still around. I wonder what he was doing during the following four years? (If it was a matter of Desolation avatars respawning in the domain, I’d have expected for Agnes to be mentioned, but she wasn’t, so…)

- Speaking of Arthur, it’s hilarious how much this statement hammered in the confluence of Corruption/Desolation when it comes to one’s life crumbling, getting devastated:

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “Maybe the dirt and grime builds up to such a degree that the stench begins to infect your soul, or an infestation of moths or ants or bed bugs stretches itself throughout the very structure of your home, until it feels like your skin is squirming with them. […] How long as she lived here? How long have these cramped, dingy rooms in the back of this sprawling rundown tenement been the place her heart calls home? She cannot recall, but long enough for her to grow into love for it, to cherish every rusted appliance, every crumbling piece of plasterboard, every – flickering – lightbulb. Even as the widening cracks and spreading mould fill her heart with dread, they gently, slowly, inch by inch, approach the mildewed room where her parents lie sleeping.”

… Given Arthur’s utter disdain for the idea that The Lightless Flame could be assimilated to anything Corruption-adjacent:

(MAG145) ARTHUR: Not like I can vent to the others about what a prat Diego is! Got a lot of funny ideas. Still calls The Lightless Flame “Asag”, like he was when he was first researching it. I just want to tell him to get over it – I mean, [FASTER AND FASTER] Asag was traditionally a force of destruction, sure, but as a church, we very much settled on burning in terms of the… face we worship, and some… fish-boiling Sumerian demon doesn’t really match up, does it?! Plus, there’s a lot of disease imagery with Asag that I’ll reckon is… way too close to Filth for my taste, but, but no, he read it in some ~ancient tome~, so that’s that– GERTRUDE: Well, I can’t say I– ARTHUR: –reckons he always knows best, ‘cause he’s read a few books, well. Big. Deal! Way I see it, if a writer can’t even save themselves, they probably don’t have a lot worth knowing! Find me one so-called “expert” on all of this who didn’t end up regretting all of it!

I hope your ego and convictions are shattering and that this is your personal hell, Arthur. Diego was RIGHT.

- Regarding Jon and Martin’s own domains, Jon raised the possibility that they were metaphorically trapped in their own quest, and it follows the comments about how they were outside of the box:

(MAG164) MARTIN: Are we safe, traveling like this? ARCHIVIST: Yes… Yes, sort of, we’re… I don’t know how to phrase it, we’re… something between a pilgrim and a moth. We can walk through these little worlds of terror, watching them; separate, and untouched. MARTIN: [NERVOUS CHUCKLING] That’s not as comforting as you might think. ARCHIVIST: I like it better than the alternative…!

(MAG165) MARTIN: But. You said we needed to go through these places. … Is that even going to work here? ARCHIVIST: Uh… [EXHALE] We need to go through them… metaphorically. MARTIN: Mm… ! ARCHIVIST: Psychologically, we need to… “experience” them. […] MARTIN: Jon, what are you talking about? NOT!SASHA: [FURIOUS SNARLS] ARCHIVIST: She can’t touch us. We’re so far beyond her now. NOT!SASHA: [FURIOUS SNARLS] ARCHIVIST: She’s just like everything else here, rules by The Eye.

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: Like I said, I can’t see the future. It wouldn’t free them, if that’s what you’re asking. “Free” doesn’t really exist in this place. MARTIN: Apart from us. ARCHIVIST: I suppose. I–in a sense, though… [CHUCKLING] how much of that is because we are trapped in our own quest to– MARTIN: Okay, let’s, let’s not dive into another… ontological debate right now, not here.

… and 1°) they’re still technically under The Eye – the whole world is its domain right now; 2°) Obligatory “WHAT IS MARTIN’S DOMAIN” (a fixed place? Web, Lonely? The Institute-Panopticon too? Jon as “the Archive”, having ~trapped~ Martin?), 3°) … big Oouft because if they were to consider their quest as the “domain” trapping them… a quest is made around a goal. Jon presented it as a “doomed quest” which was already worrisome, Oliver highlighted that the current system would ultimately collapse on its own, The Buried’s domain taunted its victims with constant hope, so… if the goal kept being unreachable, but still “almost” out of reach, Jon and Martin could be trapped a bit more literally than just on an ontological plane.

- ;w; Martin is afraid of fire…

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: … You said you were onboard. MARTIN: I was! I am; I just… thought… ARCHIVIST: It wouldn’t hurt? MARTIN: … That we’d be safe. ARCHIVIST: I never said– MARTIN: I know! I know, okay, I just… [SOMETHING SHATTERS] Look, I j–, I just don’t want to get burned, alright? It’s, it’s like my least favourite pain ever. ARCHIVIST: Is that… a joke? MARTIN: No, no! Okay? I… I legitimately hate burns, alright, they’re–they’re awful, and they scar horribly, and they just, it– It–it just makes me sick, I–I hate it. Hate it!

* Is it related to the fact that he had to care for his mom from a very young age, and that accidents happened…? That makes his decision to burn statements in MAG117-MAG118 even braver – fire that he could control on his terms, but still, in close proximity to him.

* … Actually, Elias implanting in his mind the truth of how his mother saw him, while Martin had just burned a few statements and was threatening to keep doing it, and when the smell of the fire might have still be floating around at that moment miiiight have added fuel (ha) to Martin’s own fear. Associating bad things and pain to fire.

* Wooft that he hates burns and what they leave, when he’s probably been walking kilometres holding Jon’s all-burned-to-fuck hand.

* YEAH ALSO, that line about how pain can leave a scar even if there is no physical mark to show for it? Is valid on its own but, given Martin’s past, resonates even more when keeping in mind his relationship with his mother and the way Elias inflicted his powers on him and Melanie (MAG118: “Do you want to know what she sees when she looks at you?”). It’s really not empty words, he knows from experience.

* … Same thing as the contrast between MAG117 (“This way I finally get to do something. It’s gonna hurt, but… I’m ready. And I want to. Also, I get to burn some stuff, so that cool!”) and MAG118 (“Don’t. burn. any more. statements.”) around fire: reality not as great as when plans were made, when it comes to the “smiting”, uh.

* … Obligatory “This Is How Web!Martin Can Still Win” since The Desolation and The Web were extremely at odds, and Martin… really was uncomfortable and panicking in this zone, when he had been keeping it together in previous ones (he got very afraid in the Slaughter’s, but it was the first and Martin was discovering the rules):

(MAG139, Eugene Vanderstock) “The compromise we came to… was Hill Top Road. We knew it was a stronghold of The Web, full of other children Agnes’s age. We would supervise from a distance, but were confident she would be in no danger. The Mother of Puppets has always suffered at our hand – all the manipulation and subtle venom in the world means nothing against a pure and unrestrained force of destruction and ruin.”

(Though to be fair: Martin presented himself as a “luxury smörgåsbord” for Fears in MAG117 since he was “just afraid all the time”, was always the Assistant Of Many Fears throughout the series, so it doesn’t have to be significatively a Web indicator – it’s mostly that, well, alright, so Martin can still feel specific, personal fears.)

- … And meanwhile: we went from Jon really casually forgetting that he was using his powers and knew more than he mundanely should have (the beginning of MAG167) to taking a moment to remember that Martin is not omniscient nor a mind-reader, not processing that pain (even temporary and without long-lasting damage) is a genuine factor, and admitting blankly that he’s feeding from this world, which, oops:

(MAG167) [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Help us with what? MARTIN: ‘xcuse me? ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what? [FOOTSTEPS STOP] MARTIN: Please don’t do that. ARCHIVIST: Do what…? Oh! Oh. Right, I, I see, yes. [STATIC FADES] Well, I– … [FOOTSTEPS RESUME] Sorry. MARTIN: It doesn’t… feel great, having someone looking inside your head…! […] I mean, I don’t want to keep secrets from you, but– ARCHIVIST: You should at least… be able to. MARTIN: Basically, yeah…! ARCHIVIST: I–I suppose that’s fair. MARTIN: It’s just… It’s weird, knowing that you can… know literally everything I think and feel– ARCHIVIST: Right… MARTIN: –especially since you’re not exactly the most open of people. Emotionally, I mean.

(MAG169) MARTIN: … Seriously? You don’t– … It’s on fire, Jon, it’s– ARCHIVIST: Yeah, uh… MARTIN: It’s a burning building! ARCHIVIST: Yes, it is. MARTIN: That’s on fire! ARCHIVIST: Yes. MARTIN: … Right. You are aware that traditionally, wading into a flaming inferno is actually considered bad for your health? ARCHIVIST: Yes, Martin. It will be fine. MARTIN: Alright. I just wanted to check. So. Okay. We’re planning to go through… all this, so I’m guessing the fire can’t… actually burn us! Right? Jon? ARCHIVIST: Hum… MARTIN: … Jon? ARCHIVIST: Hum… Mm… MARTIN: Jon. ARCHIVIST: I–it’s complicated. MARTIN: Well, if you want me to go in there with you, then I suggest you find a way to make it simple. “Yes” or “no”, can that fire hurt us? ARCHIVIST: Define “hurt”. MARTIN: Will the fire feel hot to me? ARCHIVIST: Yes. MARTIN: Will it cause me lots of pain, if I touch it? ARCHIVIST: Yes, though not as much as– MARTIN: [SHAKILY BUT STRONG] Will it burn me alive, and kill me dead? ARCHIVIST: … No. It can’t do us any permanent harm; once we’re out, we’ll be fine. MARTIN: You are aware that intense pain can do you loads of harm, even if there’s no any physical injury! […] ARCHIVIST: I should have told you before, so… I leave the decision to you. You know my feelings on the matter. MARTIN: I do? ARCHIVIST: I… Oh, right. I–I want revenge on Jude Perry. I want to… “smite” her. Make her feel what… [SIGH] what all her victims have felt. But I’m not willing to force you to suffer for it. […] JUDE: Yeah, but you like seeing their pain, don’t you? Their fear? ARCHIVIST: … Yes.

His relation to pain is understandable as someone who got “used” to the concept of hurting himself by repeatedly getting harmed, getting marked, and accepting more injuries to reach his goals and protect/save people who were close to him (and it’s very ironic that Martin used to be portrayed as the one “always setting himself on fire to keep others warm” while Jon… selectively did and does that too). The fact he’s feeding from this world is not a new thing: Jonah had announced that Jon would be tailored for this world, Jon himself pointed it out in the trailer, Helen toyed with him by being implicit about it – what is new is the… reverence? with which Jon seemed to marvel at the Desolation domain, the glee during the statement, the deadpanness when Jude called him out on it. It felt like at the beginning of the season, Jon was expressing more guilt, more uneasiness when it came to his enjoyment of this world… and in this episode, those were absent. So is it that he’s gradually accepting it? Or that he was trying to make a point to Martin about himself, about the fact that he is also (objectively) a monster and needs Martin to keep him in check if he doesn’t want to turn out like the others? No idea, but I feel like something is happening and building up about it;;

(… Was Jon feeding from Martin, in the Desolation domain? Martin who was miserable and afraid, coughing and in pain?)

- I LOVED the effect of Jon being in his small “bubble” of pouring out the statement, only for Martin to fight his way to get him out of it:

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “Limping and desperate, she turns to see her furniture in flames, the bookshelves full of memories, that she can’t quite place [STATIC RISES] but knows are precious to her, curl and float away as ash. The photos on the wall of her family–” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon! [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: “–whose faces seem indistinct but she knows–” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon! ARCHIVIST: “–that she loves, begin to blacken, as the glass–” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon! [COUGHS] ARCHIVIST: “–pops out of the frame.” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon, she’s here! ARCHIVIST: “Her home is being eaten alive by–” MARTIN: [CLOSER] Please come back! ARCHIVIST: “–this devouring Desolation–” MARTIN: JON! ARCHIVIST: “–and she–” [RESOUNDING SLAP] [STATIC FADES] MARTIN: She’s here! [COUGHS]

* … So, interestingly, Martin could actually get him out of it this time, while he had mentioned in MAG167 that he couldn’t stop Jon. Was it because the “statement” was different: given by the Desolation domain in this one vs. Jon giving a statement through his “knowing” in MAG167? Is it because Martin was outside of the statement mode, not listening to it (so able to break it, since he wasn’t enthralled by it)? Or is it because Martin has been becoming stronger by getting in contact with the domains? Or because he actually could have stopped Jon in MAG167… but didn’t, because he was curious, too, and preferred to think and say that he was entirely caught in the statement?

(* With MAG160, that’s the SECOND time Martin slapped Jon to “get him back” in some way. Gotta love how Jon shaking him off from The Lonely was by breaking out the violins and making an emotional confession and baring his soul to him vs. Martin, getting Jon back into focus by screaming and slapping him. Different kind of powers when there is an emergency.)

* … I’m very interested in the fact that the tape recorder was with Jon in that tiny statement bubble, while Martin was heard muffled from the outside. It wasn’t only Jon’s POV: it was, above all, the tape recorder’s, hearing the statement more distinctly than Martin. It illustrated the situation very well (Jon being unreachable and following the story, and the outside having trouble interacting with him), but I wonder what caused the bubble to exist in the first place: the Desolation domain contaminating Jon with his story? Beholding, focusing its attention on Jon because he was acting as a vessel while narrating Sabina’s story? Or the tape recorder, since Jon was feeding it?

- It’s noteworthy that so far, avatars have all been able to identify Jon as the one having provoked this apocalypse, and not “just” as an avatar beneficiating from it the most since The Eye is his patron:

(MAG164) HELEN: What would I have to gloat about? Much as I am delighted by this brave new world in which we find ourselves, I can take no credit for it. This was all… you!

(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “This report is being sent to: [STATIC FADES] The Great Eye, that watches all who linger in terror, and gorges itself on the sufferings of those under its unrelenting, stuporous gaze! And its Archive, which draws knowledge of this suffering unto itself. […] Perhaps once it might have horrified me, or given me some sense of pursuing the ultimate release of the world that you have damned.”

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: Hello, Jude. JUDE: Fancy seeing you both here. To what, exactly, do I owe the pleasure, the honour, of being graced by the great and powerful Archivist, harbinger of this new world, and his, uh… valet…? […] Sure, I moan about The Eye, who doesn’t? But, we’ve won! Both of us. And… that’s great!

Seems like they got a special knowledge or are able to feel his status in the new world? It’s still cracking me up that nobody ever mentions Jonah and his participation, and that he’s absolutely irrelevant (while he was the one to scheme and pushe and engineer this apocalypse in the first place).

- Gigantic dread as soon as Jon mentioned Jude, because y i k e s: technically, we heard about avatars who felt extremely ruthless and cruel, such as John Amherst or Arthur Nolan, but those had belonged more to Gertrude’s era. Jude Perry was the one who felt the most gratuitous and deliberate in her cruelty, in Jon’s era? And despite that, was mostly staying in her lane – Jon had to look her up to find her in MAG089, she never went after him? So the idea that he was trying to confront her and bringing Martin with him (… without warning him at first), that he sought her out and was planning to kill her, felt dangerous and worrisome.

- Gotta love, about the “valet”-thing, how:

(MAG169) JUDE: Fancy seeing you both here. To what, exactly, do I owe the pleasure, the honour, of being graced by the great and powerful Archivist, harbinger of this new world, and his, uh… valet…?

* It’s payback for Jon’s “I just… er, you were a friend of Agnes Montague, correct?” (MAG089). Opposite of mlm/wlw solidarity.

* ONCE AGAIN, after Elias, after Peter, after maybe Helen currently?, it’s an avatar underestimating Martin on sight.

- It felt to me like Jon was mostly seeking answers or a form of peace of mind than genuinely getting revenge, or helping Jude’s victims? He insisted on his questions all through their confrontation:

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: I have a question for you. I’ve been wondering. MARTIN: [COUGHS] ARCHIVIST: Did you know what you were doing? JUDE: Excuse me? ARCHIVIST: When you burned me. Marked me with… Did you know it would lead to… all of this? [CRUMBLING] JUDE: You came all this way just to ask that? ARCHIVIST: Answer the question. MARTIN: [COUGHS] JUDE: If you want to know so badly, why don’t you just reach into my head and pull it out? ARCHIVIST: Because I want to hear you say it. Willingly. JUDE: What difference does it make if it’s– ARCHIVIST: Just answer the damn question…! JUDE: … No. I had no idea. ARCHIVIST: So why did you do it? JUDE: Why do you think? Because I wanted to hurt you. MARTIN: [COUGHS] JUDE: Because you were annoying, and I didn’t like you! So I hurt you. ARCHIVIST: And if you had? JUDE: But I didn’t. Look. I don’t care, okay? MARTIN: [COUGHS] JUDE: I just… I don’t. Raking over the past like it matters, like it means anything… The past is dead, Archivist; ashes in the wind. We’re – here – now. And that’s it! ARCHIVIST: … I suppose you’re right…!

And this time, it wasn’t a tug-o’-war of question/answer resulting in one’s death (Peter), or an impulsive murder (Not!Sasha). It was planned and controlled, and deliberate. And it didn’t feel good at all: it was really a horrible scene, with Martin coughing and coughing in the background (… and Jon not paying it any attention), the execution dragging out and taking time, because Jon was processing slowly and not… giving the final blow. I really wondered if he was going to just stop, or if it wouldn’t work, or if Martin would ask him to stop – but no, quite the contrary, it’s Martin who yelled for it to be done:

(MAG169) MARTIN: [COUGHS] [STATIC RISING: LOW AND SPIRALLING, PRESSURING] JUDE: Uh! Listen… Listen… [BREATHLESS CHUCKLING] You’re enjoying this, right? ‘Course you are! You want to use those powers of yours to hurt people, you want to murder everybody who can’t fight back at you now? I can help you…! [DIGITAL GLITCHING SOUNDS] MARTIN: Just DIE already!! JUDE: You’re… not… better… than… me! [SCREAMS] [DIGITAL BURSTING, RIPPING SOUNDS] [STATIC DECREASES AND FADES] MARTIN: [COUGH] [PANTING] Is it…? ARCHIVIST: It’s over. … She’s gone.

;; There was something very… child-like, in Martin’s scream? You know, the kind of absolute rejection because he’s hurt and because in his mind there is no other way than for the other person to disappear for him to feel good ever again? I hadn’t paid much attention with Not!Sasha, but technically, the distorted, glitching sounds before and during the ripping of both the Not!Them and Jude sounded very close to Peter’s own static (and Martin’s, when he disappeared in front of Georgie): is it possible that he might have contributed in both cases, or amplified it? Or was it “only” Jon all through it?

- There is something very fitting in the fate of avatars, lately: the Not!Them was forced to “know” the suffering of its victims before getting ripped away from existence; Oliver was not rejecting death and knew it would come from him at some point, and Jon fittingly decided to spare him (although he was aware of the irony); Helen-the-Distortion is an ambivalent case (Jon can threaten her, but they can talk, it’s a bit of an unstable relationship the balance of which could shift at any time); Jude was inflected the suffering of her victims (and desolated herself in a way). It’s kinda fitting, for The Stranger, The End, The Spiral and The Desolation? I wonder how much the Domains are influencing Jon’s behaviour towards their agents, regardless of his personal feelings about them…

- Regarding Jon&Martin, it’s really heartbreaking that they are trying to navigate around and with each other’s feelings, trying to find the “right” decision regarding choices and boundaries… and that it backfired so badly due to the circumstances and the fact that, right now, they can’t really make an ideal, non-harming decision:

(MAG169) MARTIN: Jon, is there another way? ARCHIVIST: I mean… sort of? M–maybe? [SILENCE] MARTIN: That turn…! You, you took a hard turn after the roots back there. I knew that was a thing! Why are we here? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] It’s just… [INHALE] When you said… [SIGH] MARTIN: Jon, why have you taken us here? ARCHIVIST: Jude Perry. … This is where Jude Perry rules. […] You said you were onboard. MARTIN: I was! I am; I just… thought… ARCHIVIST: It wouldn’t hurt? MARTIN: … That we’d be safe. ARCHIVIST: I never said– MARTIN: I know! I know, okay, I just… […] ARCHIVIST: … Alright. If you really don’t want to do this, we, we can go another way. MARTIN: Really…? ARCHIVIST: Really. My revenge… [SIGH] Well, let’s just say you’re more important. […] So are we going in, or not? MARTIN: You’re– … I, you’re asking me? ARCHIVIST: I should have told you before, so… I leave the decision to you. You know my feelings on the matter. MARTIN: I do? ARCHIVIST: I… Oh, right. I–I want revenge on Jude Perry. I want to… “smite” her. Make her feel what… [SIGH] what all her victims have felt. But I’m not willing to force you to suffer for it. MARTIN: Okay, so it’s… I have to choose, do I? ARCHIVIST: Or we could sit here. [SILENCE] [DISTANT SOUND OF SOMETHING COLLAPSING] MARTIN: … No. No, I–I’m not going to choose, I d–I don’t think that’s a fair decision to put on me. It’s your revenge; your choice, not mine. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … Fine. We go in. [DISTANT SOUND OF SOMETHING COLLAPSING] MARTIN: [SHAKY INHALE] Al–alright then…! ARCHIVIST: We’ll be fine. MARTIN: J– Lead the way. [BAG JOSTLING]

It was good of Jon to admit that he should ask Martin, and expressed reluctance at the idea of putting him in an uncomfortable position for his own revenge! It was good of Martin, to establish once again that he didn’t want to bear the burden of deciding for both of them (MAG154: “Don’t do this.” “Do what?” “Make it my decision.”), while it was explicitly about what Jon wanted! … But it also feels like Jon would have needed Martin to decide agree to go for him if the goal was for Jon to find some peace of mind with his revenge, and that Martin would have needed Jon to say that no, definitely not, his revenge wasn’t worth endangering and harming Martin.

(Though, I feel like Martin was the most hurt of them both, this time around ;; He sounded absolutely miserable at the end of the episode, and he had been the one to begrudgingly agree to follow Jon after making it clear that he wouldn’t like the experience… I’m really surprised that Jon stuck to the “revenge” concept while he knew what was at stake for Martin. Really hoping that they will talk about it soon ;;)

- ;; Technically, Jude made a lot of valid points regarding Jon-as-an-avatar:

(MAG169) JUDE: You’re not scared, though, are you, Archivist? ARCHIVIST: … I can feel the pain of every person you have trapped here. My own isn’t all that different. JUDE: Yeah, but you like seeing their pain, don’t you? Their fear? ARCHIVIST: … Yes. JUDE: You and that stupid Eye, god, you make me sick! Lording it over everybody like you own the place? You’re just leeches, voyeurs, parasites on the real monsters. […] Oooh, I see! I get it. You finally get a sniff of power, and the first thing you do is try to settle some old scores. MARTIN: [LOUDER COUGHS] JUDE: Play the big man, get off on good old-fashioned petty revenge~! […] I’m happy in this world. I belong here. And so do you. MARTIN: [COUGHS] [STATIC RISING: LOW AND SPIRALLING, PRESSURING] JUDE: Uh! Listen… Listen… [BREATHLESS CHUCKLING] You’re enjoying this, right? ‘Course you are! You want to use those powers of yours to hurt people, you want to murder everybody who can’t fight back at you now? I can help you…! [DIGITAL GLITCHING SOUNDS] MARTIN: Just DIE already!! JUDE: You’re… not… better… than… me! [SCREAMS]

He presented it to Martin as “revenge”. He went out of his way to find Jude, first hiding it from Martin and then deliberately making the decision of going after her after he learned that Martin would be terrorised by the domain (but ready to follow him if Jon really wanted to go). Jude’s execution also exists in contrast to Oliver, whom Jon had decided to spare because he had “helped” him (… to wake up as an avatar), while knowing full well that Oliver had killed people too (MAG121) and that he was currently torturing victims in his domains (in creative, cruel ways for “VARIETY”…). Jude’s smiting didn’t feel like an application of justice, or as something fair; it just felt like personal retribution, because Jon has the power to do it. There is something reassuring in the fact that the whole scene didn’t bring any catharsis, felt so extremely anti-climatic and miserable (Martin was in pain and on the verge of tears, wanted to leave the place; Jon wasn’t triumphant), because Jon behaved as the plaintiff, the legislature, the judge and the executioner – it is terrifying in itself that he has the power to establish who would have the “right” to die or to keep torturing people following whether or not they’ve served his interests.

(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: I just, I don’t think he’s… [SIGH] I don’t know, I don’t think he’s evil. MARTIN: Oh, yeah, sure, he’s probably a really kind, benevolent ruler of a hellish fear prison…! ARCHIVIST: It’s just… He helped me. Wh–when I was… He woke me up. […] But I’m not going to… seek him out. At the very least, he’s earned not having me hunt him down. MARTIN: Fine. I suppose that’s… reasonable. […] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] No. If Oliver will not seek me out, then… I will leave him be. [TINY CHUCKLES] The avatar of Death… shall live. Martin’s going to be thrilled…! [SIGH]

(MAG169) MARTIN: [COUGH] [PANTING] Is it…? ARCHIVIST: It’s over. … She’s gone. MARTIN: [PAINED] The fires are still here. Doesn’t look like much has changed. ARCHIVIST: … No. I suppose not. [CRUMBLING SOUND] MARTIN: [SHAKILY] … Let’s just get out of here.

Jude was indeed that one avatar we wanted to see disappear (since the was gleeful about hurting, that she chose to get involved in the cult and didn’t join it to escape another horrible fate, that she admitted she didn’t regret this world nor the hurt she had to Jon himself); but her accusations had some truth in them precisely because Jon had just decided to spare Oliver given their own relationship – while Oliver, too, had admitted that he was torturing and enjoying people for the fun of it. Jon’s judgement… doesn’t work. And since nothing changed in the domain, it just proved that avatars themselves weren’t the real problem at the root – the Fear-system is still in place, still working, with or without them, still hurting and feeding from people.

(… And it also highlights that, indeed, right now, Jon is “made” for this world, as Jonah had hypothesised in MAG160. He’s been shown grieving the old world, being eaten by guilt, refusing to embrace the fact that the Fears around him feel “right” at the beginning of the season. But he’s currently feeding from this world and still enjoying victims’ pain on some level – what would happen, if Jon&Martin managed to successfully revert the world back in some way? Would Jon still be able to survive?)

- We’ll see if Jon and Martin talk about it soon, but it sure feels like a conversation regarding the “smiting” is needed. Martin seems to have experienced first-hand that it’s nnooooot as good in practice as in theory (he was miserable, in pain, coughing his lungs out, witnessed Jon choose to willingly bring him into a discomforting, potentially triggering place in the name of it), but I’m not sure it will be enough for him to reconsider the idea, or to point out that… he had been wrong about it, and that the logic of killing avatars as an easy, evident, helpful thing… is actually not that simple, since it didn’t change anything. (Probably because they have to aim higher.)

I’m really not sure about their future stances regarding other avatars, because, really, who could feel as “deserving” as Jude? Jon might want his rib back, but he technically gave it to Jared as part of an agreement (and Jared honoured his half of the deal!); Daisy would “at best” represent an attempt at mercy-killing if Jon were to try anything (and it certainly wouldn’t feel good); Julia&Trevor… indeed caused the chaos in MAG158, which also led to Daisy snapping, but would it be enough to want to “smite” them? (Meanwhile, if Jon meets Simon: same as Oliver, given his relationship to his patron, he would probably just embrace his own death.)

Plus, if Jude’s execution felt unsatisfying now, I really doubt that doing anything to Jonah would feel satisfying either? It… wouldn’t solve anything or fix the world back.

- I really wonder what’s happening in Jon’s head right now, if everything was a conscious decision that more or less backfired (ha), or if there are once again influences at stake… Did he really go after Jude because, like Martin suggested, Jon thought it could free or at least relieve the people imprisoned in that domain? Jon can’t see the future, but he could have “known” what had happened to the Not!Them’s carousel to get an indication of what happens in those cases; it… didn’t sound like a genuine reason. Same thing with the concept of revenge: Jon was scared of it just a few episodes ago (MAG166: “Because I’m ashamed, Martin. […] Yes! Ashamed of the fact that I… destroyed the world and have been rewarded for it; the fact that… I can walk safe through all this horror I’ve created like a fucking tourist, destroying whoever I please; the fact that I… enjoyed it, and… the fact that there are… so many others, that I still want to revenge myself on!”), and if it had been only about revenge, he wouldn’t have needed to ask Jude all these questions and to delay the moment when he would actually end her. Was it because he hoped that Jude would regret, would have behaved differently if she had known that it would lead to the apocalypse? Was it because he wanted to check with himself whether “smiting” her deliberately would feel good, fair and right? Was it because he thought that trusting Martin’s judgement and killing avatars would indeed be the best course of action? Was it because he wanted to prove a point to Martin – that he’s a monster too, and/or that killing doesn’t feel as great in practice as on the paper?

… His behaviour in this episode reminded me so much of MAG141, however, and how coldly rational he had sounded about what he was doing to Floyd, as if it was a logical and implacable course of action; so I can’t help but wonder if there is Eye-related influence at play. Pushing him to hurt other avatars for The Eye’s entertainment, to feed from the ones who are usually feared? For “variety”, too?

- … Regarding Jon’s powers, I had briefly wondered whether Jon was still able to compel, given what Oliver had mentioned, but mMMMmmm…

(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “Please, Jon, do not interpret this report as a “plea for mercy” or a “call to action”. I would have offered it willingly, of course, but to do so is no longer an option. You cannot ask; you may only take.”

(MAG169) JUDE: You came all this way just to ask that? ARCHIVIST: Answer the question. MARTIN: [COUGHS] JUDE: If you want to know so badly, why don’t you just reach into my head and pull it out? ARCHIVIST: Because I want to hear you say it. Willingly. JUDE: What difference does it make if it’s– ARCHIVIST: Just answer the damn question…! JUDE: … No. I had no idea.

Since compelling Peter to death, Jon has never been shown forcing an answer out of someone again. He has been shown “knowing” things with alarming ability, being almost entirely omniscient at this point (MAG164: “Okay. So… how much can you see? What else do you know?” “Uh… Maybe everything…!”), whether it’s prompted by someone’s questions (as Martin demonstrated) or Jon just knowing things on his own accord. He has demonstrated a new way to deal with “statements”: getting filled with the Fears suffusing his surroundings, and having to “pour out” these statements into the tape recorder (MAG162: “This cabin. It’s not right. And, when I thought that, I–I felt… It, it all poured out of me down… into the tape.”). He has manifested his new Eye-related ability to turn the Feared into the Fearful, eradicating monsters and avatars (MAG166: “But The Eye still rules. All this fear is being performed for its benefit. And so, there are now exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: the watcher, and the watched. Subject, and object. Those who are feared, and those who are afraid. And Jon, well… he is part of The Eye; a very important part. And he’s able to, shall we say… shift its focus. Turn the one into the other.”). But compulsion as the act of asking a question and forcing an answer out of someone? Nothing since the beginning of the season. It might be nothing, but Oliver has always known so much about Jon and his situation, and Jude directly made a reference to that power when Jon didn’t use it, so… it could indeed be a thing.

(Or it’s also possible that, after Peter resisted compulsion to the point of dying, Jon fears that ability and what it could do, and purposefully stopped using it?)

MAG170’s title is… MmMMmm. If this an episode regarding a territory, I would say Spiral or Flesh (… and Jared in particular). It could also be about things outside of a domain, like what happened with “Curiosity” – and then, I’d see ways for it to be an outside POV (Jonah? Annabelle?) and/or other characters coming back (Georgie&Melanie? Basira? … stumbling upon/finding Daisy…?). And/or Martin talking about himself – we know so little about his pre-Archives life, I feel ;; (Same for Basira…) There could also be a way to connect with something mentioned about Agnes in MAG067…

(… It’s also making me think of Albrecht’s library / the Black Forest crypt and what Jonah did of the books…)

#mag169 #tma liveblog #tma season 4 #tma spoilers/#long post/#the magnus archives

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immortalcockroach · 5 years

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Can I request a Zaven AU in modern time sort of a continuation of the last where he was going off to the Air Force again? Only this time him and raven have another kid and now they struggle a bit because they have a newborn and like a 5 year old with Miles or something like that? I know it’s a bit specific but anything along those lines would be awesome and please let your imagination run wild! ✨ love this acc

thank you, and sorry for the long wait!! i hope this is good enough to make up for it.

THE PROMISES WE KEEP

summary: For the first three months, they are a perfect little family.

Again, it begins with a letter.

pairing: Raven x Shaw

words: 2,051

part one

read on AO3

Sitting on the floor of Clarke Griffin-Blake’s living room, watching Miles and Aurora play with toys and swords and cars, Raven wonders how has her life come to this.

When Zeke went to the Air Force, she had a horrible time without him. Miles missed him, she missed him, too, and the six months was more excruciating than the years between leaving Finn and finding Zeke. With Finn, she never knew what a good, healthy and loving relationship meant, and once she discovered that with Zeke, being without that hurt so much more.

But Raven and Miles got through it. She met Clarke, who was Miller’s doctor when he got shot during a robbery, and had a little girl Miles’s age. She introduced Clarke and her husband, Bellamy, to her friends, and everyone seemed to click, even if the two were couple of years older than everyone else. They met Octavia and Lincoln through Bellamy, and Miller knew Roan and Echo from work, and somehow they ended up being more of a massive friendship group than just a few people hanging out.

Even more, if you include the kids.

Because of this, Raven wasn’t alone like the last time. She and Clarke got along better than anyone else she knows, and it helped to have someone who doesn’t pretend she can understand what Raven’s going through.

But Clarke understood loss – she understood the fear of never seeing someone again, and she understood the nights when Raven would wake up, expecting a visit from the military to tell her Zeke didn’t make it.

“Raven.”

Clarke sits down and places two small glasses on the table, filled with something that definitely wasn’t coffee. Her face is part amused, part worried, but wholly determined.

“What’s this?”

“Liquid courage,” Clarke says. “Zeke’s coming back in two weeks. I figured you could use some.”

Raven smiles, hardly believing what she sees and hears. She’s far from surprised, though – her best friend knows how to deal with any sort of problem.

She takes the glass in her hand and Clarke does the same, until they bring them together.

“To our kids?” Raven tries.

“And our men.”

“Cheers.” She takes a sip and is startled by the bitter taste, coughing a little. “I thought there’s a wine mom and a vodka aunt.”

Clarke laughs and downs her shot of vodka, hardly flinching. “Everyone’s secretly a vodka person.”

“Cheers to that,” Raven says, and finishes her shot.

The next two week pass by just like the previous five and a half months – awfully, dreadfully slowly. Raven spends it with Clarke, or her friends, and even Miles is sensing something big is about to come. He knows Zeke’s coming back, she’s told him as much, but it’s not the same as for her.

For Raven, nobody has ever come back. Zeke promised he would and despite everything in her screaming against it, she believed him.

Longer than three weeks – that’s how long it’s been since she last heard from him. Still, she doesn’t let herself give that any importance. His side of the bed is empty, but she lets herself think come tomorrow, it won’t be. She closes her eyes and pictures him lying there, eyes closed as he sleeps – finally with her, finally at peace.

He bid his goodbyes. Now, it’s time for him to come back to her.

“Tomorrow,” she whispers. Her hand travels to the other half of the bed, feeling how cold it is. “Tomorrow, you come back.”

Only, he doesn’t. He comes back two days later and surprises her at work, pulling her into the tightest hug she’s ever been in. He smells like sweat and metal and planes, but when he kisses her, all she can taste is Zeke. Her hands are wrapped around him and his are around her, and she doesn’t even care that her customers are waiting and complaining.

When they part, he kisses her, softly. His lips are warm and there is a week’s worth of stubble on his jaw and she loves him, oh God how she loves him—

Their foreheads are leaning against each other; everything is quiet. She can hear some birds, outside, and kids laughing while waiting for their parents to pick them up at the nearby kindergarten, but it all blends together. Around her, the only sounds are their heartbeats.

“You came back,” she whispers. “You came back.”

Zeke pulls her closer, wiping the tears on her face while ignoring his own. “I gave you a promise.”

She laughs; god, she laughs. It feels as if she hasn’t done that since she found out that he’s really leaving. “Yes, you did.”

He lets go of her, and she’s wondering what he’s doing – when he gets down on one knee and she remembers the second part of his promise.

The way he looks at her – she was never everything in someone’s eyes. But for Zeke, there’s so much adoration shamelessly displayed all over his face that breath hitches in her throat. He looks at her as if he didn’t think he would see her again, as if he’s seeing her for the first time, as if he’s trying to savour every moment and map every single tiny freckle on her.

From the pocket on his jacket, he pulls out a tiny box and opens it.

“Oh my god,” she says.

“Raven.”

“That’s a ring.”

“Will you—”

“YES! Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”

She leaps into his arms and doesn’t even think about the ring. She’s ehre, with the man she loves, and he loves her back enough to tell her he wants to spend the rest of his life with her and prove it. When you have that, who gives a shit about a tiny piece of metal on your finger?

The marriage is supposed to take place about a year later, at first, but when they’re six months back to normal and Raven’s pregnancy test comes back positive, there’s only one thing they can do. They get married when she’s six months pregnant and it’s a ceremony with their friends and Zeke’s massive family. No one comes for Raven, but it’s fine – everyone who matters is here, anyway.

Little Henry is born about a week early, into a family of three and about several dozen other people he could call parents and a bunch of siblings by circumstance. Aurora, Jordan, and Miles adore the little boy, and so does Octavia’s little girl, bare months older than him.

Still, no one adores him more than his father. Zeke holds him when he’s crying, when he’s happy, when he’s hungry or tired or scared – he doesn’t let go of Henry.

For the first three months, they are a perfect little family.

Again, it begins with a letter.

It arrives before he’s home from a visit to the Blakes with the kids, so she faces it alone. She doesn’t open the envelope. Still, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what a letter to Lieutenant Ezekiel Shaw from Colonel Charmaine Diyoza could say.

Raven leaves it on the counter. When he comes home, he sees it and looks at her.

She looks away. “We’ll talk about it when the kids are asleep.”

And so they do. It’s late at night, both Miles and Henry sound asleep, the best they can be. Both young parents are trying to catch a breath from dealing with the children, in the comfort of their own bed, but to Raven it feels like a hostile environment.

The memory of his side of the bed being empty is still fresh. She couldn’t bear to have it empty again.

“I didn’t know,” he begins. “When I left, I told her I’m done.”

“Obviously she didn’t get the memo.”

“She did. It’s just…” His hand finds her and he takes it, softly as he can. She fights the urge to take it out. “She says I’m one of her best. That she could really use my help mediating the team.”

“What, is McCreary not enough?”

Zeke chuckles. It’s a dry laugh, one that pains her more than silence. “You know him better than to say that.”

“I thought I knew you, too.”

“Raven.” He says her name softly, as if he’s begging. He tugs at her hand, just a little bit, until she looks at him. “I’m not going.”

“She needs you. She needed you the last time, too.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

Raven wants to bite back the words. She bites on her lips, not wanting to say it, but she does. “This time.”

And it hurts.

His thumb stops massaging her palm and he gulps, staring at her wordlessly. “Please tell me you don’t believe that.”

Looking at him hurts. She can’t deny it.

“Raven, for the love of God, I—I love you. I gave you a promise that I’m not leaving and I’m intent on keeping it. One letter from—”

“Zeke, I don’t blame you.” The words hurt because she means it. “I can’t blame you for doing what you believe is right and for fighting for it.”

“No, Raven, look at me. You’ve got this the wrong way around. I’m fighting for us. I don’t want—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, that much she can see frmo the corner of her eyes. “Fuck wars. I belong here, not in the battlefield. I needed to go the last tour because that’s what I needed to confirm for myself. I needed to make sure I wasn’t just running away, being with you. I needed to know that’s what’s right for me.”

He holds her hand and does the same thing as before. When she looks at him, his cheeks are glistening and his eyes are red. “I love you. And I chose you, and I’d do it over and over again.”

Raven stays quiet.

“Rae, I have you. I have Henry and I have Miles. I have all of our friends. I have our little place, I have our own little lives. When I’m here, the battlefield disappears. When I’m on the battlefield, none of this disappears. I know my priorities. I do. And right now, and for the rest of my life, my priority is staying with you. With my family.”

One tear escapes and rolls down her cheek. She still can’t look at him.

“I don’t need to be a hero to someone who doesn’t care about me more than just a number. I’ve done my part. Now, I have two little boys who look at me and I see how much they try to be like me. I have two little boys who need me to be their hero, one that they can see. They’re more important than a nation. I couldn’t leave them, and I couldn’t leave you, either.”

She finally looks at him. His face is broken and genuine, and eyes stretched wide in fear that she doesn’t understand what he’s telling her – that she still thinks he’s going to leave.

Her lips tremble. “I can’t lose you again.”

Zeke exhales, eyes fluttering as he closes them for a second or two. He then wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, her head against his chest. “No,” he says. “I’m here. You’re stuck with me.”

“Promise.”

“I promise. And I’ll promise you every day, if that’s what it takes.”

“I love you,” Raven whispers.

He runs a hand through her hair and something wet drips on the top of it. “I love you too, Rae, and God help me, I’ll love you for the rest of my life. No war is going to take you away from me.”

“I know,” she says, because she does.

She believes him.

He kisses the top of her head. “No warrior on the field compares to you. There’s no one I look up to more than you. You’re—” He stumbles over his words. “You’re all I could ever ask for.”

“I know.”

“Do you trust me?”

She gulps. “Yes.”

And she does, for the rest of their lives. She trusts him.

#Anonymous #the 100 #zaven #the 100 fanfiction #zaven fic #raven reyes #zeke shaw #miles shaw #miles ezekiel shaw #clarke griffin #the 100 fic #zaven fanfiction #my fic

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dfroza · 3 years

Text

standing in this faith (of the Son) will definitely go against what some people think and believe in this world.

and all that we now face here is temporal in nature, for the truest nature of things is the eternal.

and we are meant to stand, to have courage and to “believe...” by conserving the True message of grace and rebirth which is a form of bravery that also includes gentleness, kindness, forgiveness, grace, and humility. but we certainly don’t have to compromise our faith and hope in Love’s sacred truth just because others may disagree.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 18th chapter of the book of Acts where Paul continues to share his message in the face of opposition, and yet there were some who were persuaded to receive it by believing and being baptized. Paul even had a dream with the Lord speaking to him to keep sharing without fear:

From Athens, Paul traveled to Corinth alone. He found a Jewish man there named Aquila, originally from Pontus. Aquila and his wife Priscilla had recently come to Corinth from Italy because Claudius had banished all Jews from Rome. Paul visited them in their home and discovered they shared the same trade of tent making. He then became their long-term guest and joined them in their tentmaking business. Each Sabbath he would engage both Jews and Greeks in debate in the synagogue in an attempt to persuade them of his message. Eventually Silas and Timothy left Macedonia and joined him in Corinth. They found him fully occupied by proclaiming the message, testifying to the Jewish people that Jesus was God’s Anointed, the Liberating King. Eventually, though, some of them stopped listening and began insulting him. He shook the dust off his garments in protest.

Paul: OK. I’ve done all I can for you. You are responsible for your own destiny before God. From now on, I will bring the good news to the outsiders!

He walked out of the synagogue and went next door to the home of an outsider, Titius Justus, who worshiped God. Paul formed a gathering of believers there that included Crispus (the synagogue leader) and his whole household and many other Corinthians who heard Paul, believed, and were ceremonially washed through baptism. One night Paul had a vision in which he heard the Lord’s voice.

The Lord: Do not be afraid, Paul. Speak! Don’t be silent! I am with you, and no one will lay a finger on you to harm you. I have many in this city who are already My people.

After such turmoil in previous cities, these words encouraged Paul to extend his stay in Corinth, teaching the message of God among them for a year and six months.

During this time, some Jews organized an attack on Paul and made formal charges against him to Gallio, the proconsul of Achaia.

Jews: This man is convincing people to worship God in ways that contradict our Hebrew Scriptures.

Paul was about to speak, but Gallio spoke first.

Gallio: Look, if this were some serious crime, I would accept your complaint as a legitimate legal case, but this is just more of your typical Jewish squabbling about trivialities in your sacred literature. I have no interest in getting dragged into this kind of thing.

So he threw out their case and drove them away from his bench. They were furious and seized Sosthenes, the synagogue official; then they beat him in front of the tribunal. Gallio just ignored them.

At the end of 18 months, Paul said good-bye to the believers in Corinth. He wanted to travel to the east and south to Syria by ship; so, accompanied by Priscilla and Aquila, he went to the nearby port city of Cenchrea, where he fulfilled a vow he had made by cutting his hair. The three of them sailed east to Ephesus where Paul would leave Priscilla and Aquila. Paul again went to the synagogue where he dialogued with the Jews. They were receptive and invited him to stay longer. But he politely declined.

Paul: If God wills, I’ll return at some point.

He caught a ship bound south and east for Caesarea by the sea. There he went up for a brief visit with the believers in the church at Jerusalem; then he headed north to Antioch. He spent considerable time there and then left again, visiting city after city throughout Galatia and Phrygia, strengthening the disciples in each place.

Meanwhile, back in Ephesus, a Jew named Apollos made contact with the community of believers. He had been raised in Alexandria.

Apollos was eloquent and well educated in the Hebrew Scriptures. He was partially instructed in the way of the Lord, and he added to his native eloquence a burning enthusiasm to teach about Jesus. He taught accurately what he knew; but he had only understood part of the good news, specifically the ritual cleansing through baptism preached by John, the forerunner of Jesus. So, when Priscilla and Aquila heard him speak boldly in the synagogue, they discerned both his gift and his lack of full understanding. They took him aside and in private explained the way of God to him more accurately and fully. He wanted to head west into Achaia, where Paul had recently been, to preach there. The believers encouraged him to do so and sent a letter instructing the Greek disciples to welcome him. Upon his arrival, he was of great help to all in Achaia who had, by the grace of God, become believers. This gifted speaker publicly demonstrated, based on the Hebrew Scriptures, that the promised Anointed One is Jesus. Then, when the Jews there raised counterarguments, he refuted them with great power.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 18 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 9th chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah that points to the birth of the Son known as the Prince of Peace:

But there will be no more gloom for those who knew such hardship. In times past, God humbled the land of Zebulun and Naphtali; later, He will restore the honor and glory to the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee, home of the nations.

The people who had been living in darkness

have seen a great light.

The light of life has shined on those who dwelt

in the shadowy darkness of death.

And You, God, will make it happen. You bolstered the nation,

making it great again. You have saturated it with joy.

Everyone in it is full of delight in Your presence,

like the joy they experience at the harvest,

like the thrill of dividing up the spoils of war.

For as You did back in the day when Midian oppressed us,

You will shatter the yoke that burdens them,

You will lift the load that weighs them down,

You will break the rod of their oppressor.

It’s true. All the fabric of war will go up in flames:

the troops’ heavy boots that stamped us down and their blood-soaked garb

Will all be burned beyond recognition or use.

There will be a new time, a fresh start.

Hope of all hopes, dream of our dreams,

a child is born, sweet-breathed; a son is given to us: a living gift.

And even now, with tiny features and dewy hair, He is great.

The power of leadership, and the weight of authority, will rest on His shoulders.

His name? His name we’ll know in many ways—

He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

Dear Father everlasting, ever-present never-failing,

Master of Wholeness, Prince of Peace.

His leadership will bring such prosperity as you’ve never seen before—

sustainable peace for all time.

This child: God’s promise to David—a throne forever, among us,

to restore sound leadership that cannot be perverted or shaken.

He will ensure justice without fail and absolute equity. Always.

The intense passion of the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies,

will carry this to completion.

The Lord has dispatched a word against Jacob;

it will come down hard on Israel.

All the people of Ephraim and the citizens of its capital Samaria will know.

In their pride and arrogance they say:

“Hey! The walls have collapsed, but this gives us a chance to rebuild

better than it was before with the best stones instead of brick.

The invaders may have chopped down the sycamores,

but we will plant cedars in their place.”

But the Eternal stirs up Rezin’s enemies to move against Israel

and arouses all their foes to join them.

They come, these enemies, from both sides (Syrians on the east and Philistines on the west)

and consume Israel, swallowing it whole.

Still, God’s anger smolders.

His hand is raised; there’s more to come.

But the people don’t return to God after all His punishment.

They don’t change their ways and right their paths

To seek the Eternal, the Commander of heavenly armies.

Therefore, He will take them to task.

In a single day He’ll cut off from Israel the head and the tail;

He’ll cut down the noble palm and lowly reed.

The head are those charged with leadership—political and religious—

who used their power in the worst possible ways;

And the tail are the prophets who slur their lies.

These misguided leaders have misled this people;

and those who follow have become swallowed up in their deceit.

Even now the Lord takes no joy in a single one, not even the young.

Mercy has run out for even those without power—the widows and orphans.

For every single person is at fault and behaves badly.

No one thinks or acts as God would have them do.

Every mouth utters foolishness like a wildfire, out of control;

wickedness rages, leveling and clearing briars and thorns;

Forests and thickets burn, leaving the whole a smoking heap.

Still, God’s anger smolders. His hand is raised; there’s more to come.

The Eternal, the Commander of heavenly armies,

sets our world on fire in His fury.

The rotten people become kindling for the fire,

turning against one another until no one is spared.

They slice off what’s on the right and are still hungry;

they eat what’s on the left and still aren’t satisfied.

And in their voracity, they consume their own.

Manasseh and Ephraim devour each other

and turn their covetous eye south, toward Judah.

Still, God’s anger smolders. His hand is raised; there’s more to come.

The Book of Isaiah, Chapter 9 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, june 17 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that looks at the significance of forgiveness:

In the Gates of Repentance it is written: ‎"I hereby forgive all who have hurt me, all who have wronged me, whether deliberately or inadvertently, whether by word or by deed. May no one be punished on my account. And as I forgive and pardon those who have wronged me, may those whom I have harmed forgive me, whether I acted deliberately or inadvertently, whether by word or by deed." Amen...

Yeshua taught us to pray “forgive us as we forgive others," which implies that our forgiveness (of others) is the measure of our own forgiveness. In other words, as we forgive others, so we experience forgiveness ourselves... Forgiveness releases the hurt, the anger, and the disappointment so these feelings do not inwardly consume and exhaust our souls. And yet forgiveness must be self-directed, too, since refusing to forgive yourself denies or negates the forgiveness given from others. Forgiving yourself means admitting that you act just like other people, that you are human, and that you are in need of reconciliation too. We have to move on, past the shame, and to turn back to hope. As a Yiddish proverb puts it, "You are what you are, not what you were..."

It is written, "in many things we offend all," and therefore we must confess our sins one to another to find healing (James 5:16). However the practice of love overlooks a multitude of sins, and if we do not condemn those who offend us, then we will not need to forgive them for their offenses. Walking in God’s love sets us free from the slavery of negative emotions such as resentment, bitterness, anger, unresolved grief, and so on.

I love this affirmation and prayer attributed to Eusebius of Caesarea (c. 263-339 AD): "May I be the friend of that which is eternal and abides. May I never quarrel with those nearest me; and if I do, may we be reconciled quickly. May I never devise evil against anyone; and if any devise evil against me, may I escape uninjured and without any desire to hurt them. May I love, seek, and attain only that which is good. May I wish for the happiness of all and the misery of none. May I never rejoice in the ill-fortune of one who has wronged me. When I have done or said what is wrong, may I never wait for the rebuke of others, but always rebuke myself until I make amends.”

“May I, to the extent of my ability, give all needful help to my friends and to all who are in want. May I never fail a friend in danger. When visiting those in grief, may I be able by gentle and healing words to soften their pain. May I respect myself. May I always keep tame that which rages within me. May I accustom myself to be gentle, and never be angry with people because of circumstances. May I never discuss who is wicked and what wicked things he has done, but know good men and follow their footsteps." Amen. [Hebrew for Christians]

6.17.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

June 17, 2021

Reasonable Service

“I beseech you therefore...by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service. And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.” (Romans 12:1-2)

For those who would know God’s will for their lives, these verses provide the definitive answer. The key is sacrifice, not conformity. It is paradoxical, but wonderfully true, that real living is dying—dying to the world and living unto Christ! This great theme is emphasized repeatedly throughout the New Testament (Galatians 2:20, etc.).

Whether paradoxical or not, the principle of sacrificial living for Christ is eminently reasonable service! “Reasonable” is the Greek logikos, from which we derive our word “logical.” “Service” is the Greek latreian, referring to service as a priest. We have been made “an holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 2:5). It is perfectly logical that we render such lifelong service to the great Friend who laid down His life for us in order to take away our sins and give us everlasting life with Him in the ages to come.

It is also logical that we should not conform our lives to the standards of this present evil world. Why should we imitate this world’s materialism or humanism, in dress or music or morals or anything else? We have far higher and more lasting standards, guided by the Word of God and by minds renewed in Christ.

Our minds once were “blinded” by “the god of this world” (2 Corinthians 4:4), but now they can be guided by “the mind of the Lord” (Romans 11:34; 1 Corinthians 2:16). Here is the key to knowing that good and acceptable and perfect will of God! HMM

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mastcomm · 4 years

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A Tempest in a Pizzeria Spills Out Into the Street

Trouble had come to Pizza Paradise. A police car sat outside 12 West 18th Street on Monday. Two protesters paced the sidewalk, bearing saffron-yellow placards and handing out fliers printed with an all-caps battle cry: “DON’T EAT HERE.”

Inside, two police officers conferred with the pizzeria owners. Solo diners hunched over triangles of pepperoni.

The counters to the left of the front door were bare — a conspicuous blank spot in a city where every inch of real estate is measured, fought over and exploited. For seven years, that corner belonged to one of Manhattan’s most charming and serendipitous pop-up restaurants: Taste of Persia NYC.

There, Saeed Pourkay, a print-shop manager turned chef, stocked chafing dishes and pots with the likes of fesenjan, a stew of crushed walnuts and pomegranate molasses, sour and sweet. His ash reshteh, a dense noodle and bean soup, was simmered for hours down to a heavy ink and topped with bronzed shards of garlic, crispy onions, dried mint and a cooling daub of sour kashk (fermented whey).

Although the New York metropolitan area is home to the second-largest population of Iranian descent (more than 32,000 people) in the United States, there are only a few Persian restaurants in the city. Mr. Pourkay, who left Tehran in 1978 during the Iranian Revolution, was a beneficent figure in the Flatiron district, doling out samples of stews in tiny spoons, eager to share his cuisine with those merely in search of a New York slice. His lines grew long.

Then, in November, new owners took over the pizzeria. They quarreled over his share of the rent — he paid $900 a week for his corner, contributing about a quarter of the owners’ total monthly payment — and asked him to leave.

To be a New Yorker is to live in constant mourning. One by one, the places we love are taken from us, often by rising costs.

But that’s not why Mr. Pourkay, 66, was protesting outside the pizzeria. He had accepted his fate, he said, and cleared out his space last Friday as promised. He thought he had parted with the owners on good terms, trading hugs and kisses. But when he returned on Sunday to pick up equipment and food he’d left behind, he found a new sign posted in what was once his window.

Tasty Persia NYC, it said.

It was deep crimson, just like his old sign. A Persian rug hung on the wall. New chafing dishes gleamed. On the menu were his old favorites: ash retesh, bamieh (okra) and kaleh gonjeshki (tiny meatballs, literally translated as “sparrow heads”).

Mr. Pourkay suspected a plot to push him out, replicate his business and profit from the reputation he’d worked years to build. He confronted Thogan Magableh, one of the pizzeria owners.

What happened next is in dispute. Things got physical. Both parties called the police, and Mr. Pourkay was barred from the premises.

Shortly after, he posted a video online that showed him weeping in front of the pizzeria, saying, “He stole everything.” Former customers started flooding Facebook and Yelp with negative reviews of Pizza Paradise. A GoFundMe campaign, set up by fans on Mr. Pourkay’s behalf, has raised more than $22,000 to help him open his own place.

On Monday, his pizzeria window was empty, as if neither Taste of Persia nor Tasty Persia ever was. Mr. Magableh, an immigrant from Jordan, told me he would no longer serve Persian cuisine.

Still, his son, Sam Magableh, insisted that they had done nothing wrong. His mother, who is Persian, cooked the dishes, he said. “You tell me I can’t sell Persian food?” he asked.

“In the Middle East we all eat like this,” the older Mr. Magableh added. How was it Mr. Pourkay’s food?

When I reviewed Taste of Persia in 2013 for the Hungry City column, I noted that Mr. Pourkay had to cook in the off-hours, when the pizzeria kitchen wasn’t in use. Sometimes he came in as early as 1:30 a.m. “This hardly seems a sustainable state of affairs,” I wrote.

Apparently Thogan Magableh didn’t think so, either. He proposed a 50-50 split of rent and expenses, after tallying up the cost of extra electricity and gas from Mr. Pourkay’s hours of cooking, and of his staff’s having to stay late to clean and lock up. (People don’t dawdle over slices, but Persian food, rich and fragrant, encourages lingering, even in the glare of a no-frills dining room. )

Mr. Pourkay said this offer was made not to him directly, but to his younger brother Vahid Pourkay, who runs a longstanding print shop a few blocks away. It’s an old-school way of doing business, family to family.

His brother laughed off the offer: “Half the rent for that 10-by-10 place?”

Now the brothers stood together on the sidewalk, politely flagging down passers-by. The fliers were the handiwork of Vahid Pourkay’s print shop. As the saying goes, never pick a fight with someone who buys ink by the barrel.

“The police told us we could be here so long as we don’t block the door,” Saeed Pourkay said. He was supposed to fly to Iran later this week, for a long-deferred vacation, but canceled the trip.

The landlord has agreed to help Mr. Pourkay retrieve his remaining equipment. In the meantime, Mr. Pourkay is working with a pro-bono lawyer to prepare a suit alleging intellectual property theft. He says he will continue to protest.

“I kissed them, I hugged them,” he said, remembering his last night with the pizzeria owners. “I have to protect myself.”

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/a-tempest-in-a-pizzeria-spills-out-into-the-street/

#Life style

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dextersjournal · 7 years

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Get to know me

I posted these questions a while ago but no one was interested. I’m really bored at work so I decided to answer all of them anyway. Answers are correct as of 3 July 2017.

1. Who was the last person you held hands with? Probably my ex.

2. Are you outgoing or shy? Both.

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? I’m seeing my friend Jordan later. Went out with him yesterday, but I always look forward to seeing my friends.

4. Are you easy to get along with? Yes, I think so. I will admit that it could be argued that I have a polarising personality.

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? Don’t like anyone at the moment.

6. What kind of people are you attracted to? (I abhor this question.) Um, generally good looking. Long hair is a turn on. Sharp features e.g. nose and jaw line. Smooth skin. Sense of humour. Intelligent, verbose, reasonable, critical thinker. Reason I abhor this question is because I don’t like the idea of someone reading this and thinking I wouldn’t be into them because they don’t meet these criteria; it’s very plausible that I would be attracted to someone outside these descriptions – except sense of humour. That’s a must.

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? No.

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? Can’t even think of anyone.

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Yes, but less and less so. When you play Never Have I Ever with friends like mine, you’re forced out of that comfort zone, lol.

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Gosh, I have deep conversations all the time. Probably with my friends Jordan and Fabian last night.

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?

“Hey dude. I’m home safely. Hope you are/will be too. I’m beyond glad you agreed to join us today. I do miss our chats so that’s a big reason why I’d like to hang out more.

Anyway, I shall see you tomorrow. And I hope to see you soon after that. Sleep well and keep well[,] my friend.”

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? Hmmm, I actually don’t have a favourite right now – I listen to whatever – but my recent favourites have been:

Sign of the Times – Harry Styles From the Dining Table – Harry Styles Tears in the Rain - Nathan Sykes Twist – Nathan Sykes There’s Only One of You – Nathan Sykes

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? Yes, actually. But people rarely do.

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? Luck, yes. Miracles, no.

15. What good thing happened this summer? I formed a friendship in the last third of last year in which I was very quickly emotionally invested, as I do. But I wasn’t sure how this person felt about me; they were very hot and cold towards me. We could have a good time one day and he’d all but ignore me the next. The good thing that happened this summer is that he and I became closer, started confiding in each other and I’m no longer uncertain about our friendship.

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Yes. I’m actually craving it.

17. Do you think there is life on other planets? I think with the vast expanse of the universe, it’s likely that there should be other living organisms out there, if only simple-celled ones.

18. Do you still talk to your first crush? No. Don’t talk to many people from primary school.

19. Do you like bubble baths? I do. But water restrictions.

20. Do you like your neighbors? My mother is really close to the neighbours on our left. We don’t really socialise with our other neighbours.

21. What are your bad habits? Over-thinking and over-analysing. Nail biting. I’m sure I have more so if anyone notices any, let me know.

22. Where would you like to travel? England and Europe (they’re separate now). More specifically: London, Paris, Rome, Florence, Venice, Istanbul (maybe). Also New York and LA.

23. Do you have trust issues? Likely.

24. Favourite part of your daily routine? Don’t really have one. My life is banal right now.

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? My paunch.

26. What do you do when you wake up? Turn off my alarm.

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? Neither.

28. Who are you most comfortable around? My friends.

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? Nope. They actually said their life got easier.

30. Do you ever want to get married? I think so. But I’m not sure. Very aware that marriage and weddings are a mere by-product of archaic tradition but also like the idea of officialising a commitment promise.

31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail? Yes.

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? I don’t even want to think about this one right now. Don’t want to pop a boner at work.

33. Spell your name with your chin. DSewsxrt5err

34. Do you play sports? What sports? I used to play chess.

35. Would you rather live without TV or music? TV.

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? All the damn time. I’ve only told 2 of my numerous crushes that I liked them. One of those was almost a year later.

37. What do you say during awkward silences? “Lovely weather we’re having.”

38. Describe your dream girl/guy? A friend I can have sex with.

39. What are your favourite stores to shop in? Edgars and Mr Price. They give me credit.

40. What do you want to do after high school? I left high school 5 years ago.

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? No. I don’t subscribe to rules with absolutes.

42. If you’re being extremely quiet what does it mean? I’m tired and/or uncomfortable and/or thinking and/or over-thinking and/or upset and/or depressed.

43. Do you smile at strangers? Not generally, no.

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? Outer space.

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? The obligation to go to work and continue to earn money.

46. What are you paranoid about? That my friends don’t really like me and they just tolerate me.

47. Have you ever been high? No. I think I may have been on a passive high once, but I’m not sure.

48. Have you ever been drunk? Yes. Good times.

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? Umm, no, I don’t think so.

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? Black.

51. Ever wished you were someone else? I probably have, but not actively. For all my faults and insecurities, I like who I am and acknowledge that being someone else comes with a whole new set of problems. I like that I know what my problems are.

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? My weight.

53. Favourite makeup brand? MAC

54. Favourite store? Wouldn’t say I have one.

55. Favourite blog? http://soletstalkabout.com/

56. Favourite colour? Azure blue.

57. Favourite food? Pizza or sushi. I will not decide between them.

58. Last thing you ate? Doughnut.

59. First thing you ate this morning? Cereal (ProNutro)

60. Ever won a competition? For what? I won a dance competition on a TV show and received free tickets to go up Table Mountain.

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? Nope.

62. Been arrested? For what? Nope.

63. Ever been in love? Yes.

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? We’d spent New Year’s Eve together, just the two of us, and as we were watching the sunrise on New Year’s Day, he pulled a handwritten letter from his pocket and read it out. He revealed he had feelings for me and asked if he could kiss me. I nodded.

65. Are you hungry right now? Not actually, hey.

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? No, but I do wish my real friends had Tumblr. And Twitter. Mostly Twitter.

67. Facebook or Twitter?

Twitter.

68. Twitter or Tumblr? Twitter.

69. Are you watching TV right now? Nope. I’m at work.

70. Names of your best friends? Bronté Fabian Jerry Jordan Laurie Nadine

71. Craving something? What? Hugs. Always.

72. What colour are your towels? I think the ones I’m using now are green.

72. How many pillows do you sleep with? Two. One standard and one continental.

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? Do my victims’ bodies count? Jokes. No, I don’t. (I leave the bodies in the basement.)

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? Easily upwards of 10.

75. Favourite animal? Dog. Unimaginative answer, I know.

76. What colour is your underwear? Grey.

77. Chocolate or Vanilla? Vanilla

78. Favourite ice cream flavour? Bubblegum, but it’s hard to find. I’m usually pretty satisfied with vanilla. But if we’re including frozen yoghurt into the options, then English Toffee.

79. What colour shirt are you wearing? Black

80. What colour pants? Blue (denim)

81. Favourite TV show? Will & Grace.

82. Favourite movie? The Prestige.

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? Ew. Mean Girls.

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? Mean Girls.

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? Why is this a question?

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? Dory.

87. First person you talked to today? My brother.

88. Last person you talked to today? My boss.

89. Name a person you hate? I don’t hate anyone. But the last person I hated was called Josh, I think.

90. Name a person you love? Fabian.

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? No. Hurt with my words.

92. In a fight with someone? No. Hurt with my words.

93. How many sweatpants do you have? 5

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? 5/6

95. Last movie you watched? Wonder Woman

96. Favourite actress? Dunno.

97. Favourite actor? Dunno.

98. Do you tan a lot? No. Not intentionally.

99. Have any pets? No.

100. How are you feeling? Tired. Bored.

101. Do you type fast? Yes.

102. Do you regret anything from your past? Yes. The person I used to be. Makes me cringe.

103. Can you spell well? Yes.

104. Do you miss anyone from your past? Yes.

105. Ever been to a bonfire party? No.

106. Ever broken someone’s heart? Not that I know of.

107. Have you ever been on a horse? No.

108. What should you be doing? Nothing. I don’t have any work to do.

109. Is something irritating you right now? Not particularly.

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? Yes. [Cue depression and Sam Smith soundtrack]

111. Do you have trust issues? Refer to Question 23.

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? Gosh, I’m not sure hey. I cried in front of my ex while we were still together, but that was in 2015. I’ve definitely cried since but I don’t remember doing it in front of everyone.

113. What was your childhood nickname? Dennis. I was a klutz so my dad would refer to me as Dennis the Menace. I hated it.

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? Within the country, only technically; just crossed the border for a few hours.

115. Do you play the Wii? No.

116. Are you listening to music right now? No, but that’s a good idea, actually.

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? I eat it but never crave it.

118. Do you like Chinese food? No. Except spring rolls.

119. Favourite book? Harry Potter and Artemis Fowl series.

120. Are you afraid of the dark? No.

121. Are you mean? Not genuinely. But I say mean things to be funny.

122. Is cheating ever okay? Probably. Once again, I do not subscribe to rules with absolutes.

123. Can you keep white shoes clean? No. I don’t care about them enough.

124. Do you believe in love at first sight? No. I believe in confirmation bias.

125. Do you believe in true love? Yes, I’d like to.

126. Are you currently bored? Yeeeeeeeeees!

127. What makes you happy? My friends.

128. Would you change your name? No.

129. What your zodiac sign? Scorpio.

130. Do you like subway? The sandwich place? Yes, I do.

131. Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? Depends on whether I feel the same way. It’s unlikely. So probably say I don’t reciprocate their feelings. Ask them if they need anything, like space. Ask them if I did anything to lead them on. Have a discussion with them. Let them know I’m still their friend if they want me to be.

132. Your best friend of the same sex likes you, what do you do? Depends on whether I feel the same way. If I don’t, see above. If I do, or I don’t but I could, then I guess we’ll see how it goes. This is something I’ve thought about a lot and I don’t think it’s likely. My best friends are mostly straight and most of them have girlfriends. Even if they’re queer, I doubt they’d be interested in me. Besides all that, I think I’m too close to all of them to view them in a romantic and sexual light. I wouldn’t want to ruin a friendship.

133. Favourite lyrics right now? In Our Darkest Hour In My Deepest Despair Will You Still Care? Will You Be There? In My Trials And My Tribulations Through Our Doubts And Frustrations In My Violence In My Turbulence Through My Fear And My Confessions In My Anguish And My Pain Through My Joy And My Sorrow In The Promise Of Another Tomorrow I'll Never Let You Part For You're Always In My Heart.

134. Can you count to one million? Theoretically, yes. Not about to do it in practice; it would take literally 3 days.

135. Dumbest lie you ever told? I signed up to be in my primary school’s fashion show and they had a strict rule (for some weird reason) that if you signed up, you had to do it. I changed my mind and, when confronted, told my teacher my mother had responded on the reply slip without my consent.

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? Closed.

137. How tall are you? 1.78m or 5ft 11in

138. Curly or Straight hair? I have curly hair.

139. Brunette or Blonde? I’m a brunette.

140. Summer or Winter? Summer.

141. Night or Day? Night.

142. Favourite month? December.

143. Are you a vegetarian? Hell, no.

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? Milk chocolate.

145. Tea or Coffee? Tea. I don’t drink coffee.

146. Was today a good day? Today’s barely started, but it’s unlikely to be. Yesterday was great, though.

147. Mars or Snickers? Mars.

148. What’s your favourite quote? “I’m a knowledgeable man and it’s part of my knowledge. Y’know, if I knew how I knew everything I knew, I’d only be able to know half as much because it would all be clogged up from where I know it from.” – David Mitchell

149. Do you believe in ghosts? I’m inclined to say no, but I’ve recently heard some stories that have challenged my world view.

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? No text. Just a picture. (It’s an autobiography, not a kid’s book, okay! Get off my back, mom! Geez.)

#get to know me #questions #QandA #Q&A

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