#I talk like it's a collapsing and condemned house

[janebonbon]

wauuuggrrgh Setting up blog aside I want to post art so desperately but we won't allow ourselves until we finish what we need to. It's getting there!! But oh my god. The desperation. Oh well. At least the art queue will be good??? Consistant art... How do I even space that out... Every week? Feels too long. This ain't a TV show! Every other day? Somehow feels too fast... Maybe. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

[inkstainedheartbeats]

Two days after they nearly lose their daughter to a fire the Buckley’s open the door to find a woman with curly red hair on their porch step. Claudia Henderson. They’ve heard the rumors, Hawkins does so dearly love them, about why she moved to Hawkins when her child was six. They’ve heard the rumors about rumors. About how her boy is friends with the boy who did but didn’t. They’ve seen her out and about. Mousy. Timid. Flinching when yelling gets too loud and over protective of her boy. For a moment, just a brief one, they think she’s here to blame their hatchling. Their fledgling. Backs straighten, mouths flatten.

“I do hope I didn’t wake Robin, knocking on your door,” is what they get instead. The mousy, timid woman not as noisy and timid as they thought as she manages to smile and talk her way into their home. Robin is still asleep.

“Now I’m sure we’ve heard the fire story.”

They nod. It felt wrong, smelled fishy. Dottie has never been a fan of the government and River saw the damage to the Harrington boy. No falling debris could cause that.

“I don’t know much. Dusty won’t say much and always looks so scared when I ask. But it’s a load of cow manure. Something happened though.”

Claudia talks in a soft low voice, even when agitated and upset. Her hands moving in eclectic patterns. She tells them what she’s seen, what she’s guessed, put together with the Sinclair’s and oddly enough Ted Wheeler.

“Karen is of the opinion we should wait for the children to tell us. She listens in but doesn’t offer anything. It’s sweet really,” she says and they both notice that her cheeks get the same pink tint that Robin’s does when she talks about Tammy or Heather or Vickie or even Chrissy. Dottie raises an eyebrow, River tucks his chin.

They’re interrupted by noises coming from upstairs. A thump like a body hitting the floor. Followed by two sets of running feet. A door opens, closes, a few minutes later the toilet flushes. They wait and listen as two try to become one on the walk back to Robin’s room.

“Steve likes to think he’s sneaky, but his nightmares give him away. He’ll… he’ll probably cycle through houses. Will try not to be seen. Especially now.”

“Now?” River asks because he’s always been nosier than Dottie.

“Him and Hopper.”

There were rumors, some nastier than others.

“Hopper had practically adopted him.”

Dottie makes a pain filled noise. She’d had a different upbringing than River. His grandmother joining the little commune of hippies and nature lovers, those who wanted peace and a greater feeling of unity, than her parents. And the parents that had basically adopted her.

“We shared custody, Hopper and I. So he comes through my front door. He’ll collapse on me and cry. He probably won’t with you. I know he doesn’t with the others.”

It’s not quite what they left behind, what grief caused them to flee. But it’s still a village and Claudia is there to welcome them in.

—/—/—/—/—/—

Later. Not even a year later. They, and the others, stand up in town hall. Call Jason Carver a fear mongering asshole and condemn anyone who believes him. Jason calls them satanist sympathizers. They aren’t quite run out of town but people side eye them. Some of the more religious threaten them.

They’re there when Claudia get the call Dustin and Steve are in the hospital. There to take Steve’s place protecting the Munson boy. Worry deep set on their faces when he faints the moment Dottie takes the nail studded bat from his hands.

They’re there when Steve flatlines twice and Eddie does thrice. They’re there when Wayne Munson gets the Claudia treatment. They’re there because that’s what family, what a village does.

[clonerightsagenda]

Station 11 wrapup!

You all know I'm a stickler when it comes to adaptations. I just reread a whole bunch of books so I could nitpick their adaptations better. But Station 11 said fuck that. This is an adaptation. We're going to adapt.

Station 11 the book is about the power of art. Survival is insufficient! Art brings back joy in the apocalypse. The Prophet is there, yes, mostly as a generic post-apocalyptic predatory cult to move the plot along, and he's defeated after a moment of artistic connection. But the TV show says, hold up. Yes art can save us. It can allow us to speak to each other when we can't find the words. But it's not enough on its own. You can't keep telling the same story for 400 years and always have it land. You have to leave the wheel. You have to adapt. You have to ask yourself, what if it ends differently this time? If you don't - if you resist all change, if you can't handle going off course - you're going to wither and die. Frank unable to leave his house. The father dead on the sofa. Kirsten letting poison spread through her veins. Hamlet, who for four hundred years has been dead from the beginning. The finale music doesn't play at the end of the final episode of Station 11. It plays during the play, because that's the turning point, when this show's Hamlet holds a knife to Claudius's throat and doesn't stick it in. The play finally gets another ending.

It's not subtle about any of this. The metaphors, the narrative parallels, the masterfully done scene cuts, and the select quotes about Station 11 are all very blatant, but it clicks together well enough that it works and I don't care. When we get to the final episode and Miranda drops a tragic backstory that happens to connect to the problem at hand, I accept it because I'm not bought into this story as realism, I'm bought into it as a piece of well-constructed, very deliberate art.

Your art is your message. It's your last phone call. And maybe sometimes that last call saves an airport full of people. Maybe it condemns a plane full of passengers to die. Usually you don't know. Everyone's going to take it a different way. It might save someone. It might damn them. It might not do anything. Miranda starts Station 11 as her life collapses, burns it all down, and starts again, and then the world ends and two very different people find it and adapt it in two very different, disastrous ways. But you have to make it anyway. You have to talk to people even when they're not there. I don't want to live the wrong life and then die.

I love what the show did with Jeevan, turning a relatively minor character into an awkward millennial fumbling his way through the end of the world but genuinely wanting to do good. I loved the extra content we got from Miranda and the ways she touched people's lives even beyond her graphic novel. Clark's dark turn was unexpected but worked for the story. I'm still not sold on why everyone loved Arthur Leander, but I am constitutionally immune to movie stars. I liked that the show took the brief connection between Kirsten and the Prophet and turned it into two very lost people who remember damage and can't escape the stories they're telling themselves until someone else crashes into them and tells it a different way. Forget the generic Christofascist child bride cult. We've heard that before. Let's hear something else.

My one complaint is the child army thing got defused a bit mysteriously, but mostly it was tidy in the way a graphic novel is tidy. Every image is deliberate, every line counts. This is one of the rare instances where I think I actually like the adaptation better than the book, although it's very clear that they're doing different things. I probably should have saved this for last because now all the other TV shows are going to suffer for not being Station 11, but them's the breaks sometimes.

Highly recommend! Only if you can handle pandemic trauma though.

[that-coffee-in-huesca]

231021

When Joris Lechêne posted, around the 9th of October, about the context of the Hamas attacks, concluding that these acts can never be justified, but surely, at least in part, explained by the brutal occupation that has lasted over 70 years and made Gaza practically unlivable*, a lot of people were outraged. They commented that NO kind of violent history could possibly give reason for something so horrific and inhumane. Even if someone kills your family or tortures your friends, killing innocent civilians is an absurd response. This is in no way a weird position to take. In fact, it is the only sane position on this issue; of course it is an absurd response that should disgust anyone with a heart and brain. However, what is strange, is that the same logic seems to have completely disappeared in the conversation on the Israeli attacks on Gaza. Why are random Palestinian activists, in each and every interview, asked to condemn the death of 1000 Israelis, before they are allowed to make further points, while Israeli officials (people actually representing the IDF, the very institution wielding the violence on Gaza) are not asked to condemn the death of 4000 Palestinians? For the 4000 Palestinians, context all of a sudden seems very important, and plenty of excuses apparently do exist for the unlawful murder of civilians. The most plain explanation is of course racism. The western world has come so far in dehumanizing Muslims (which is of course how we understand Palestinians, even though many of them are Christian or belong to other religions) that their lives are literally worth less in the mathematical equation of counting casualties. Add to this a very odd relationship with the state of Israel, where many Western states carry some sort of twisted reverence for its military operations while at the same time refusing to challenge their own issues of antisemitism. The West has normalized this idea of Israel as a Western-built island of peace and democracy in an ocean of death, hate and misery. Murder in Israel is wrong and horrendous. Murder in Palestine is just… business as usual (I honestly believe that a lot of Westerners truly believe that people from war-torn, “orientalised”, non-Western countries experience loss differently, as if they are more “used to it” and hence it is not as bad. We saw a lot of this kind of commentary when Russia invaded Ukraine). Israelis indoctrinated and trained to kill Palestinians are explained with militarized rhetoric of democracy and defense, while Palestinians doing the same thing is disregarded as hate-fueled terrorists. Another reason, which also has deeply colonial roots, is the outlook on the violence itself. A lot of us seem to see low-tech violence (like an attack with a machete or a gun to your face) as far more brutal and scary than high-tech violence (sophisticated weaponry maneuvered by someone in a uniform), as if a civilian shot to death would somehow be more dead than one crushed (or slowly suffocated) under a building. This of course all connects to the logic explained above. Seemingly random attacks, targeting people at a music festival, are far more ‘real’ to Westerners. This could happen to any of us. Terrorist attacks from above, however, targeting civilians from the sky in Western-made airplanes dropping Western-made bombs? No, that kind of death is reserved for people living in dusty, beige countries with brutalist buildings. Of course a Westerner relates to the man in the uniform speaking fluent English, talking about self-defense over a dusty stranger crying out to God in front of the house that just collapsed over his family. The latter of these men has come to represent the destruction of European civilisation (this is not a crazy statement these days, just ask the average alt-righter that exists in almost every European parliament and they’ll tell you). The other man represents the West** and all the West stands for, and this is not strange at all, because make no mistake, it is the West that is currently bombing Gaza.

*When we say Gaza is unlivable, we are not only referring to the unlawful killing of civilians, and the outbursts of extreme violence that occurs every now and then, but the lack of resources, the overpopulation and the closed border. Having to sit and watch family members die as they are denied traveling permits to visit hospitals in the West Bank, the constant sound of drones over your house, the electricity only working for a couple of hours a day, the lack of clean water. It has surprised me to know how little many Israeli citizens know about this situation. I distinctly remember a conversation I had some years ago, when an Israeli student described the security reason and why the border to Gaza must remain closed. When I asked him why Israel is patrolling the sea as well, and not letting anyone leave in the opposite direction, he just looked at me and asked: “What? They can’t leave?”.

**Yes, he does. You can talk all you want about how Jewish people are not Western, and I hear you. We should be outraged about how the West seemingly accepts Jewish people when they are constructed as the Western wielders of violence on other exposed and oppressed groups, while carrying on their antisemitic every-day life whenever it is about ANY OTHER issue. The West doesn’t care about Jewish people, they care about having an outpost in the Middle East and arming it to the teeth. Palestinians and Israelis have, and have always had, the same enemy: The colonial white supremasists that are playing them both.

[exoid-the-locomotive-monarch]

Thanks for you page for more Palestine news because goddamn I need to blow off some opinions on the situation.

So wild to me the idea that Jews “repatriating” to the Canaanite lands NEEDED a Jewish ethnostate, or for the Liberal Zionist, a Volkstaat where you can technically vote and live in the country as in independent citizen, but only to the government assigned zones of living where the neighborhoods coincidentally compromise entirely of Arabs, you can leave these zones if you need, we just need your ID to check if you’re Hamas. It’s not segregation because the water fountains aren’t labeled “Arab only” and “Jew only” that’s too obvious.

Like so much of the conversation for Israel is an apocalyptic narrative of “if Hamas wins it’ll be a genocide eligible to be called the second shoah”

BITCH IF WE WANNA CRITICIZE HAMAS WE GOTTA TALK ABOUT WHERE THEY CAME FROM but Zionists only wanna talk about the hostile collapse of Fatah in 2007 to propagate the idea that Palestinians have become too radical to live in their own homeland. If you want a peaceful revolutionary movement, you would have to react to dissent nonviolently.

Unfortunately, the enforcement of the state of Israel started with violence, and even existed under the British Palestinian mandate.

Speaking of which that time in history is usually bright up by Zionists to point out Palestinians that collaborated with the Nazis to prove some way that the Palestinian ethnicity is an epigenetically anti-semitic people who need to be constantly opposed by “the west” to save the Jews from the fascist Arab and… the European ild fashioned racist.

Cause fuck returning the displaced Jews of East Europe and France and the lowlands to rebuilt houses and reconstructed neighborhoods. Dump them in the desert as described in the good book, can’t argue with God, who’s always right and can’t do anything wrong and if you question it you’re misguided at best and hellbound at worst.

Yeah man return an ethnicity displaced for thousands of years to their ancestral homeland I’m sure the people already living there would be okay with influx of a population the size of a small nation’s capital every year, even better when you literally move into their preexisting houses instead of moving in as a neighbor.

It is an international shame the UN and it’s leaders of Britain, the USA, France, and the USSR support this.

Yeah man we should deport the Spanish back to Italy (because they’re actually Roman) and import half the population to Iberia to reclaim the true ancestral population of Al-Andalus.

“But didn’t you point out an example of Arab Colonialism”

First off Moors are not Arab, second if you’re against Arab Colonialism I’d expect you to be against Israel which literally started as a project by the British to fulfill biblical prophecy.

So, all in all. The Jews can live in the Levant, no one ethnicity “owns” land, and no God will say otherwise. So what will happen if Israel goes? Where will the Jews go?

Nowhere, they will stop being Israelis, they instead would be “Jewish Palestinians” or “Hebrew Palestinians” and Palestine does not necessarily have to be run by Hamas. Hamas isn’t the only political movement for Palestinian independence. Even then hot take: most Palestinians who join Hamas just join the movement because it’s the biggest most effective movement of the current age against Israeli force. Certainly it has its anti-semites, that mist be addressed and condemned, but for the most part the movement has evolved to a revolutionary movement with goals of national independence than ISIS 2 (the wikipedia article on Hamas cites ISIS as an enemy of Hamas, with 2 sources cited)

I forgot to mention that Israel has been accused of founding Hamas to intensify conflict between secular and islamist Palestinian liberation forces.

Also to mention was Hamas was unpopular until after the first Intifada. It was a reaction to Israeli violence.

I certainly want people to criticize Hamas, mainly its use of suicide bombing from the 90s, but the issue is framing Hamas as an action and not a reaction, as I said before, to prevent violent revolution you must approach dissent without violence.

A lot has changed since the founder of Hamas (Ahmed Yassin) died. Mainly the situation in Palestine got worse. I want criticism of revolutionary movement to come after the revolution, as no criticism of a revolutionary movement can exist without some appeal to the status quo, and as it exists the status quo now is irreconcilable. I’m afraid the disarming of a terrorist group is not going to work with the elimination of the group by violence, but the required disarmament of the state committing atrocities on a national scale.

I am an American, we didn’t stop the Taliban by bombing Afghanistan, we didn’t stop Al-Qaeda by bombing Iraq in 2003. We didn’t stop ISIS by bombing Syria in 2016, (it was the Syrian army and Kurdish revolutionary forces that did the elbow grease)

Unironically, you want to end Hamas? You need to end Israel first. I’m not kidding.

[robzombies-hotwife]

Ramblings about religion, spiritual philosophy, miracles, and life and death.

I am not a religious woman. I was raised Catholic until I was 15, and I still culturally feel connected with many human aspects of it, but I don't believe in a god up in heaven with all his angels and the souls of the saved (with the devil down below with the damned) and his son made flesh and condemned to save humanity. I'm not sure if I believe in an afterlife at all, but I definitely don't think that living humans are meant to know the details if the afterlife actually exists.

So, I don't believe in all that. I've always kinda thought of life in terms of the energy of the universe that I came to call The Pulse, named that after the Fiona Apple lyric "I know when I go, all my particles will disband and disperse and I'll be back in the pulse." This universal energy is cyclical and flows in and out of livings as they live and die. It's yours to borrow for a while, then it flows back out again and into a new organism. Whether any of that energy stays "you" and goes to an afterlife I cannot say. I think there are forces in the universe beyond our understanding and that move in unknowable ways.

I think I believe in miracles? Well, I don't know if I should call them miracles, but it's the closest concept for what I'm thinking. When I think of miracles, it's not exactly divine intervention or a human granted temporary divine power. It's as simple as this: sometimes, the unknowable forces of the universe and that cycle of energy align and unexpectedly save a life that should've been lost by all logical explanation.

I was saved from certain death by one of these universal miracles. I don't know how I know this, but I understand deep in my bones that the accident should've killed me that night. It was a set-up so perfect that I'd call it a cliché if it happened in a movie. I'd spent the whole day with my family. When my sister and I were chilling in the blow-up pool, she'd commented on my hitting rock bottom due to my long job search and I just laughed and said I'd hit lower points in my life and that I hadn't lost hope that my situation was temporary. I talked to my mom a lot about the future and she said she was confident that things would look up for me, but that I always had help and a place in the family home if needed. I talked a lot about how things were going with theatre and about how excited I was for the upcoming season. I remember feeling bummed that my younger brother had party plans with friends that day/night and I only got to see him for a few minutes, and I attributed it at the time to just missing hanging out with him, but now I kind of feel like that was destined to be the last time I ever saw him. That evening, we had a campfire (something I've always liked) for the first time in years. My older brother, who I rarely see or talk to, stayed much later into the night than normal and I talked to him quite a bit as we each drank a glass of wine. Even my dad stayed up really late that night to hang out, unusual since he typically goes to bed at 8 pm. From a short distance from the fire, alone on the swingset, I took a lot of pictures of my family on a strange urge to capture the scene of the people I love. They would've been the last images on my camera roll when my phone was found. I played with my toddler niece to get her to stop crying over having to go home, spinning her around and around until she was laughing and we collapsed into the grass to stare at the stars and fireworks.

I almost took my mother up on her offer to stay at the house overnight, which would've totally avoided the freeway accident. It was late, after all, but I had an appointment in the morning and had to go. My parents gave me a bag of food to take home and hugs, and I left my damp swimsuit hanging on their porch clothesline, figuring that I'd just pick it up the next time I came over.

I'll be back soon.

Like I said, a movie cliché. Practically a dead wife reel. For god's sake, I was even wearing a t-shirt for my favorite local band, whose concert I'd gone to only the weekend before!

Then came the accident, caused by a complete stranger's recklessness on the freeway at night. I was listening and singing along to T-Pain's cover of "War Pigs" and thinking about requesting it to be added to my favorite bar's karaoke line-up so I could sing it there sometime. Innocuous idle thoughts while I was driving that familiar route home. As my car went out of control at 80 mph, I was absolutely, 100% sure that I was going to die and the split-second before the impact happened, I learned some of the secrets that only the unquiet dead know. The movie cliché last day and the nature of the accident and that unnaturally absolute certainty in my gut all pointed to my violent early death at only 25 years old.

And then... I was alive?

I'm not being a drama queen when I say that the chances of surviving that crash at all were slim, but the chances of walking away without ICU-level injuries (and likely a permanent disability) were almost nonexistent. Though I had a seatbelt and airbag and very safe car, that hard of an impact still should've killed me. I know the driver who caused the crash only stopped because he thought I was dead. He was frozen and white as a ghost when I pulled myself from the wreckage and stumbled over to get a picture of his plates and scream at him. The other drivers who pulled over to help me and call 911 also seemed shocked that I was alive and standing and talking. The ER doctors were astounded by my survival and relatively okay body, and I trust their judgment about unsurvivable things since they see victims of those things every day. I do have permenent spine damage, but the physical therapist I'm working with says it shouldn't cause me pain or mobility issues in the future and that the damage to my body should've been much worse considering the force of impact, if I survived at all.

In short, though I'm not a religious woman, in my heart I truly believe that I experienced a universal miracle that night. Everything points to the fact that I was destined to died that night and I didn't. I don't know why, or how, or any logical reason for my survival. I spent days after unsure if I was alive or dead, and the past month trying to find any explanation for my continued life, especially considering the sudden and disturbing knowledge of the dead I gained in that split-second between life and certain death.

There is no explanation. It was a random miracle that happened via unknown forces and for unknown reasons. All I know is that my time was up and then it wasn't and now I'm left trying to come to terms with all of that.

[dfroza]

it begins in the heart

“For the mouth simply shapes the heart’s impulses into words.”

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 12th chapter of the book of Matthew:

The Sabbath came, and Jesus walked through a field. His disciples, who were hungry, began to pick some of the grain and eat it.

When the Pharisees saw this, they reacted.

Pharisees: Look! Your disciples are breaking the law of the Sabbath!

Jesus: Haven’t you read what David did? When he and his friends were hungry, they went into God’s house and they ate the holy bread, even though neither David nor his friends, but only priests, were allowed that bread. Indeed, have you not read that on the Sabbath priests themselves do work in the temple, breaking the Sabbath law yet remaining blameless? Listen, One who is greater than the temple is here.

Do you not understand what the prophet Hosea recorded, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice”? If you understood that snippet of Scripture, you would not condemn these innocent men for ostensibly breaking the law of the Sabbath. For the Son of Man has not only the authority to heal and cast out demons, He also has authority over the Sabbath.

Jesus left the field and went to the synagogue, and there He met a man with a shriveled hand. The Pharisees wanted to set up Jesus.

Pharisees: Well, is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath too?

Jesus: Look, imagine that one of you has a sheep that falls into a ditch on the Sabbath—what would you do?

(to the Pharisees) You would dive in and rescue your sheep. Now what is more valuable, a person or a sheep? So what do you think—should I heal this man on the Sabbath? Isn’t it lawful to do good deeds on the Sabbath? (to the man with the shriveled hand) Stretch out your hand.

As the man did so, his hand was completely healed, as good as new.

The Pharisees went and mapped out plans to destroy Jesus.

Jesus knew that the Pharisees were plotting to kill Him and left the area. Many people followed Him, and He healed them all, always insisting that they tell no one about Him. He did this in keeping with the prophecy Isaiah made so long ago:

This is My servant, whom I have well chosen;

this is the One I love, the One in whom I delight.

I will place My Spirit upon Him;

He will proclaim justice to all the world.

He will not fight or shout

or talk loudly in the streets.

He will not crush a reed under His heel

or blow out a smoldering candle

until He has led justice and righteousness to final victory.

All the world will find its hope in His name.

Some of the faithful brought Jesus a man who was possessed by a demon, who was blind and mute, and Jesus healed him. The man could see and talk, and demons no longer crawled around in him.

People (astonished): Could this be the Son of David?

Pharisees: It is only through Beelzebul, the prince of demons, that this Jesus can cast out demons.

Jesus knew what the Pharisees were thinking.

Jesus: That would be like a father splitting his own household down the middle or a king cutting his kingdom in half—the household and the kingdom would fall apart. So, too, if Satan imbued people with the power to drive out demons, Satan’s kingdom would collapse. And you should think about this too: you have friends who drive out demons. If I am working as a tool of Beelzebul, whom are your people working for? When I come to you and drive out demons by the Spirit of your Father in heaven—for the glory of your Father in heaven—you should recognize and rejoice that the kingdom of God has come to you.

Imagine you wanted to break into the house of your neighbor, a strong brawny man, and steal his furniture. First, you’d have to tie up your neighbor, yes? Once he was bound and tied, you could take whatever you wanted. Similarly—he who is not with Me is against Me, and he who is not doing the Father’s work of gathering up the flock may as well be scattering the flock.

It is one thing for you to speak ill of the Son of Man. People will be forgiven for every sin they commit and blasphemy they utter. But those who call the work of God the work of Satan utterly remove themselves from God, and those who blaspheme God’s Spirit will not be forgiven, neither in this world nor in the world to come.

Good trees produce good fruits; bad trees produce bad fruits. You can always tell a tree by its fruits. You children of snakes, you who are evil—how could you possibly say anything good? For the mouth simply shapes the heart’s impulses into words. And so the good man (who is filled with goodness) speaks good words, while the evil man (who is filled with evil) speaks evil words. I tell you this: on the day of judgment, people will be called to account for every careless word they have ever said. The righteous will be acquitted by their own words, and you evildoers will be condemned by your own words.

Scribes and Pharisees: Teacher, we want to see some miraculous sign from You.

Jesus: You wicked and promiscuous generation—you are looking for signs, are you? The only sign you will be given is the sign of the prophet Jonah. Jonah spent three days and three nights in the belly of a great fish, as the Son of Man will spend three days and three nights in the belly of the earth. One day, the people of Nineveh will rise up in judgment and will condemn your present generation—for the Ninevites turned from sin to God when they heard Jonah preach, and now One far greater than Jonah is here. The Queen of the South will also stand in judgment and condemn this generation—for she came from the ends of the earth to listen to Solomon’s wisdom. And today One greater and wiser than Solomon is among you.

Let Me tell you what will happen to this wicked generation: When an evil spirit comes out of a man, it rattles around through deserts and other dry places looking for a place to rest—but it does not find anywhere to rest. So the spirit says, “I will return to the house I left.” And it returns to find that house unoccupied, tidy, swept, and sparkling clean. Well, then not only does one spirit set up shop in that sparkling house, but it brings seven even more wicked spirits along. And the poor man—the house—is worse off than he was before. This evil generation will suffer a similar fate.

While Jesus was speaking to the crowd, His mother and brothers came up and wanted to speak to Him.

Someone in the Crowd: Your mother and brothers are waiting outside to speak to You.

Jesus: Who is My mother? And who are My brothers? (pointing to His disciples) These are My mother and brothers. Anyone who does the will of My Father in heaven is My mother and brother and sister.

The Book of Matthew, Chapter 12 (The Voice)

Today’s paired reading from the First Testament is the 6th chapter of the book of Amos:

Grief is coming to those who live comfortably in Zion

and those who feel secure on the mountain of Samaria;

The noteworthy of this nation

and those respected by the people of Israel have much to dread.

Go over to Calneh and look at what happened there,

then cross over to the great city of Hamath in Aram,

Then go down to Gath, the city of the Philistines.

Are you any more powerful than these fallen kingdoms were?

Are your lands any larger than theirs?

You try to hold off the evil day,

but your actions bring the reign of violence ever nearer.

Grief is coming to those who lounge on beds inlaid with ivory,

who stretch out on their luxurious sofas,

And who feast on lambs from their flocks

and stall-fattened calves anytime, not just during festivals.

Grief is coming to those who sing foolish songs to the sounds of the harp,

who think they can play like David;

Who guzzle fine wine by the gallon from elegant bowls;

who apply expensive oils to their bodies, when cheaper ones will do,

But they are not grieved by the awful state of Joseph’s people.

That is why they will be the first ones carried off into exile,

and their lives of leisure and feasting will disappear.

The Eternal Lord has sworn by His own holiness,

and the Eternal God, the Commander of heavenly armies,

Promises this:

Eternal One: I detest the pride of Israel, descendants of My servant Jacob,

and I hate their fortresses,

And I will hand over the city and all its wealth to their enemies.

If there are only 10 people left in one house, they will all die. If a man arrives to take his relative’s remains out of the house for burial and he calls back into the darkened house, “Is anyone else with you?” the only survivor will respond, “No.” The relative will cut the survivor off: “Quiet! Not another word! We mustn’t mention the name of the Eternal One.”

Look: the Eternal gives the order,

and the great house is smashed to pieces, and the little house crumbles.

Do horses gallop over big boulders?

Does a person plow such rocks with a team of oxen?

But you have somehow managed to make justice poisonous

and turned the sweet fruits of righteousness into bitterness—

You, who celebrate taking back worthless Lo-debar

and ask, “Haven’t we captured Karnaim with our own strong armies?”

Eternal One: You will see—I am raising up a strong nation against you, people of Israel,

and they will hound you from Hamath pass in the north

To the Great Rift Valley at Arabah in the south.

So says the Eternal God, the Commander of heavenly armies.

The Book of Amos, Chapter 6 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Didn’t God institute the festivals? Didn’t He instruct His people to sacrifice? Didn’t He inspire the singers and songwriters to praise His name? Yes. Even the most beautiful ceremony can become empty ritual, and a sacred time should not be mixed with activities that displease God. He wants more than pious exercises; He wants His people to follow His instructions, to do what is right, and to honor Him because they recognize that He is the one all-powerful God.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, january 18 of 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New) of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the significance of the exodus:

The great exodus of Israel from Egypt (יציאת מצרים) is the central parable of the Torah, and indeed of the entire Bible. It provides a picture of our salvation given in Messiah. The bondage of the Israelites to Pharaoh represents humanity’s slavery to sin; redemption from this bondage is effected by trusting in the blood of the sacrificial lamb of God; deliverance from death to life is depicted through baptism into the Sea of Reeds; the journey to truth represents the pilgrimage to Sinai, and so on.

It is important to see that the great redemption in Egypt led directly to revelation given at Sinai exactly 49 days later, and when the LORD God there gave his people the Ten Commandments, he did not begin by saying he was their Creator, but rather their Redeemer: "I am the LORD your God (אָנכִי יְהוָה אֱלהֶיךָ), who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery" (Exod. 20:2). This is because the purpose of the creation itself is to demonstrate God's redemptive love and to be known as our Savior and Redeemer, just as Yeshua is the "Lamb slain from the foundation of the world" (Rev. 13:8; 1 Pet. 1:18-20; Eph. 1:4; 2 Tim. 1:9). "All things were created by Him (i.e., Yeshua), and for Him" and in Him all things consist (συνεστηκεν, lit. "stick together") (Col. 1:16-17).

Creation therefore begins and ends with the redemptive love of God as manifested in the Person of Yeshua our Mashiach, the great Lamb of God and our Savior... He is the Center of Creation - the Aleph and Tav - the Beginning and the End (Isa. 44:6; Rev. 1:8). All the world was created for the Messiah: “For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen” (Rom. 11:36).

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

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Isaiah 44:6b reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/isa44-6b-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/isa44-6b-lesson.pdf

1.16.24 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel 365:

The Torah portion of Bo (Exodus 10:1–13:16) tells of the final three plagues visited upon the Egyptians before the Exodus from Egypt. The Torah notes that during the ninth plague of darkness, while the Egyptians could not see one another or move around, “all the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings” (Exodus 10:23). This contrast between light and darkness serves as a powerful metaphor for the enduring struggle between good and evil that resonates throughout Jewish history and into our present times.

The Symbolism of Light in Jewish Tradition

In Jewish tradition, light is a symbol of wisdom, goodness, and divine presence. The nation of Israel is often seen as a beacon of light, tasked with a sacred mission to illuminate the world with principles of ethics, morality, and monotheism. This idea is encapsulated in the prophecy of Isaiah (49:6), where Israel is charged with being “a light unto the nations.” The design of the windows in the Temple, constructed to project light outward, further underscores this mission. Israel is not meant to bask in its own spiritual light but is called to share this light with the world, serving as God’s emissaries.

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

January 18, 2024

The Gods Shall Perish

“Thus shall ye say unto them, The gods that have not made the heavens and the earth, even they shall perish from the earth, and from under these heavens.” (Jeremiah 10:11)

This is a unique verse. Jeremiah, the second-longest book in the Bible, is written in Hebrew except for this one verse! Why would Jeremiah make this remarkable exception here?

This verse was written in Aramaic, which was the official language of the great Babylonian empire—the world’s chief nation at that time. The Babylonians, as prophesied by Jeremiah, were soon to be used as a weapon in God’s hand to punish His chosen people, carrying them into exile and captivity, and the main reason for such punishment was apostasy. God’s people had corrupted the worship of the true Creator God with the teachings and idols of the Babylonians and all the other nations around them who had rejected God.

Jeremiah had repeatedly condemned this apostasy, showing that God’s people were to be punished by the very nations whose religious philosophies had so attracted them.

But those nations needed also to understand that this was not because of their own strength nor the merits of their own gods. Thus, Jeremiah appropriately inserted a special word to be conveyed to the Babylonians in their own official tongue. Only the true God, who made the heavens and the earth, is in control of the heavens and the earth.

The same type of warning, delivered in the “official” language of the modern world (“science?”), is needed even more today than it was in Jeremiah’s day. Today’s “gods”—Marx, Darwin, etc.—are even less deserving of trust than Zeus or Baal, and yet professing Christians have gone after them in droves. It is urgent that we call them back to the true Creator and Savior, Jesus Christ, urging them—before God’s judgment falls once again—to repudiate every vestige of evolutionary humanism. HMM

[votestaynight2]

13th Day - LAST TALK (Scene 1, Attempt 2)

Alright! So apparently we need to just be totally down with removing the Shroud. That gives us the following changes:

We get the following interlude in day 12:

Interlude 12-1

"――――Well." She leaves the two of them and comes out into the yard. "What's going on, Sakura? Weren't you resting in your room since you're sick?" Tohsaka Rin coldly regards the girl before her.

"………" Matou Sakura looks down uneasily. "――――――――" "――――――――" There are no words between them. Rin mercilessly condemns the outsider, Sakura, who is at a loss for words, feeling beholden and inferior.

"Sakura. If you're here because you're worried about Emiya-kun, go back. I'll pretend I didn't see you." "……!" Sakura trembles a bit. Her older sister is bitter. She corners Sakura, even when she knows of her uneasiness.

"No, Nee-san. I just…" Pushing her resolve, Sakura looks at her ideal, her older sister. But… "You don't need to explain. I'm telling you to go back to your room. I'm not going to let you in the dojo, no matter what you tell me." Rin cuts off the girl's utmost resistance.

"Why can't I go in?" "Do I really need to spell it out? You're our enemy when we're acting as Masters. Look, Sakura. Even if you and Rider are just staying in the house without fighting, it doesn't change the fact that you're under Zouken's control. There's no way we can train in front of such a person."

"――――――――" Faced with the cold words, Sakura can only stand there. Tohsaka Rin is serious. Unlike Shirou, her sister is worrying about when she might fall under Zouken's sway and become their enemy. …No. Rin probably assumes they will end up as enemies.

"……" She bites her lip. But she can't talk back. As Rin says, Sakura can fall into Zouken's hands at any time. Her body is getting worse every day, and her memory is becoming more vague. Her only respite came when she slept, but now she's begun having nightmares. …It'll be no surprise if she goes crazy at any time.

"That's right. Walking around when you have no magical energy only bothers us. You don't know when you might collapse. Well, I'm sure you won't collapse right now since you've settled down, but Emiya-kun will worry if you push yourself. …He'd be even more cornered if that happens. That's not what you want, right?"

"……" Rin is absolutely right. Sakura drops her gaze further, biting her lip helplessly.

"Do you understand? Then get going. I'll go get you at noon, so rest until then." She nods. Rin turns her back to her younger sister. As if to tell her… …That she's just a nuisance.

"H-Hold on, Nee-san…!" "What? You still have something to say?" "Yes. I understand your point. I'll go back to my room. …But please tell me. What are you going to have Senpai do? You know he can't fight anymore, right? But you're seeing him, and what more are you going to make him do…!?"

"――――――――" She stops before leaving. Matou Sakura's appeal is born of desperation. A fury of emotion that the quiet girl has never shown. Though surprised, Rin answers her with the same coldness as before.

"I'm teaching him magic. We can't beat Saber, Zouken, or the black shadow as we are right now. So I'm going to have Shirou draw magic from Archer's arm. That arm is filled with his experience, and that experience will flow continuously into Shirou if we loosen the Shroud, forcing Shirou to level up."

"Wha――――" As a magus of the Matou, Sakura knows that this is a reckless plan. What her sister intends to do is just torture. It's like pouring a hundred units of fuel into a container called Emiya Shirou that can only hold ten. Even if ten thousand units are poured, the excess will overflow, and the container will only hold ten.

But that will only be painful. Emiya Shirou will gain from less than a tenth of the agony he goes through. And most of all―――a person with a normal mind will never be able to endure it. If you set a mud puppet against a tidal wave, the puppet will be washed away. That's what loosening the Shroud means――――

"That's absurd! Senpai's body won't last if you do such a thing…! No, not only that! Senpai trusts you, Nee-san. That's why he's accepting your reckless plan. I'm sure he'll take that cloth off in the end if you tell him…!"

"――――Sakura." Sakura does not look down. She stares straight at her sister.

To that… "…You're right. But, Sakura. He would take the Shroud off himself even if I don't tell him to. I realized it when I was talking to him earlier. ……Honestly. In the end, he'll take it off like it's nothing, no matter how strongly I warn him." Tohsaka replies in a powerless voice.

"Eh… Nee-san?" "Yes. I know that, so I had to suggest a plan that wouldn't make him take it off. If he knows we can manage without having him take the Shroud off, he won't do it unless it's a last resort. So my role is to make him create a weapon within set limitations. I'll have him rest after that. I'll even confine him, keeping him out of combat until the Holy Grail War is over."

"――――――――" She's telling the truth. Tohsaka Rin is showing as much consideration as she can. …But that is her mind as Tohsaka Rin. As the successor of an old family lineage, Sakura knows the other side of Rin.

"Nee-san. I understand that you're concerned for Senpai's safety. But that's it. If you find out that you cannot beat Grandfather with the current method, you will end up using him. You're a magus of Tohsaka. You will use Senpai as a tool to win… to protect the law of magi."

They are not questions, but statements of fact. The Tohsaka heir closes her eyes and… "――――Yes. If our current method fails, and if Zouken and the shadow continue their rampage―――I'll have Shirou use Archer's arm. It's only natural if his life is the only thing at stake." …She makes a declaration with her head held high.

"…That's selfish of you. Senpai never wanted the Holy Grail. He became a Master by chance. So it's wrong to force him to keep fighting." "――――Hmph. It seems you misunderstand, Sakura."

"Look. I'm not forcing him, and even if that's true, Shirou has no right to object. His life was saved because I gave him my Archer's arm. But he hasn't tried to cut it off yet. That means his life is mine now. He's my Archer as long as he doesn't get rid of his arm."

"Do you get it? Shirou is my familiar until this war ends. There's no reason for you to butt in. As long as he wants to fight, I'm going to lend him my powers, and I'm going to borrow his power." "……!" She cannot say anything. The girl cannot say anything back to her sister, who is full of intimidating confidence.

"―――Is that all? Then go back to your room. Didn't I tell you you're just being a distraction?" Tohsaka Rin turns around and heads to the dojo. The girl watches it as if it's a distant scene.

…The familiar yard is vast. There is nothing around, and it feels like nothing is within reach. In that artificial solitude… "―――I see. So you're taking Senpai as well, Nee-san?" …The girl murmurs something without emotion.

End of Interlude

Then it continues to day 13, and here is how it continues, after accepting Assassin's offer:

It's a trap. It's obviously a trap. But it's true that I might never have another chance to talk with Zouken one-on-one.

…And I don't really have a choice. Even if it's a trap, I have to go see him and have him remove Sakura's crest worm.

"…All right. Zouken wants to talk to me, huh?" "―――A wise decision. Let us make haste. Even I cannot deceive Rider's eyes for too long. The magus will change his mind if someone else realizes we're having this conversation." "……Hah. So it's a secret meeting for my ears only, huh?"

…There's no reply. His work must be done now that I've agreed. Before I know it, Assassin has vanished.

―――I sneak out of my house to head to the Matou household. The sky is filled with clouds. Maybe it's because of the dark sky, but the house is filled with an ominous air.

I go inside without ringing the doorbell. …It's been a year since I last came here. I go through the hallway following my faint memory and head to the living room.

"Oh. You came earlier than I thought, Emiya's successor." "――――――――" Zouken is the only one here. I don't see Assassin or black Saber. …It seems he really does want to talk with me.

"Hm? Oh, you don't even want to exchange greetings with me? My, you must hate me." I feel no hostility from Zouken. …In short, he's taking me lightly. His composure is self-evident, confident in his ability to kill me at any time.

"Well. You must have something to talk about as well, since you've accepted my invitation. Sit down. It must not be something to discuss standing up." "――――No way. Standing up is just fine for what we have to say."

…I suppress the urge to jump at him and punch him, and glare at him as if it could kill him. Unlike Zouken, I can't hide my anger. I won't let my guard down against the guy who changed Sakura's body.

"Zouken. If this is a discussion, I only have one thing to say. Release Sakura right now." That's the only business I have here. I'll just fight if Zouken refuses. I'll kill this monster before anything can happen, even if he calls for Assassin and Saber.

"Release Sakura, eh? …Hm, I would like to, but I'm afraid I cannot do anything." ―――Then. The old magus before me speaks in disappointed tones.

"――――What?" "She cannot be saved no matter what I do, as it has grown too much. Sakura is already functioning as a Holy Grail. She will die even if I remove the crest worm right now."

Hold on. Holy Grail? Sakura is functioning as a Holy Grail? Why is he talking about the Holy Grail…?

"Wait. What do you mean by Sakura being the Holy Grail? What did you do to her…!?"

"I tampered with her to obtain the Holy Grail and make my wish come true. It is all for Makiri's dearest wish, to put shape to the soul, the true immortality. That is why I embedded the Holy Grail into Sakura after the war ten years ago."

"What――――you embedded the Holy Grail…?"

"Right. You should have heard how the Holy Grail War ended ten years ago. Your father, Emiya Kiritsugu, destroyed the Holy Grail that was completed through the ritual we know as the Holy Grail War. The war ended, the summoning ritual a failure once again. But―――it was not a total loss. The Holy Grail was completed, if only temporarily. Then it would be a waste to leave the broken fragments as they were."

"――――――――" My head quickly cools down. In short, he took his granddaughter Sakura and…

"Yes. I embedded the Holy Grail within her. But I am no monster. I made sure she can function as a human. I knew it would be painful to have an inorganic substance in her, so I turned the shard of the Holy Grail into a living thing."

"――――Living thing… Then the crest worm in Sakura is…" "It is something I created using the Holy Grail as catalyst. With that, her body became a container to receive the souls. It became a tool to become the gate when the ritual is completed. It is just a copy of the Holy Grail the Einzbern family makes. Well, I do not have as much skill as them, so I did about an eighth my own way."

He laughs. …Copying Einzbern? All he did was pick up a piece of a finished product and implant it within Sakura…!

"…You bastard! You can't make a Holy Grail, so you used a human being to make an imitation of the Holy Grail…!?"

"Experiment. It's just an experiment, heir to Emiya. This experiment is merely a stepping stone to the next. My plan was to slowly change her to something like a Holy Grail over several decades. It was supposed to be an experiment of Makiri's Holy Grail which lives as a human but still has the function to collect souls."

"Sakura――――is an experiment…?"

"Of course. Sakura was given to the Matou family for that reason. To give a daughter to the Matou family means giving us a foundation to achieve our goal. Tohsaka is well aware of that. We both have the same goals. We will both turn ourselves into monsters to achieve immortality."

"Immortality…? You and Tohsaka's father used Sakura for something ridiculous like that…!?"

"Of course. The Holy Grail War has always been a ritual dedicated to that end. That is the only reason we cooperated, and I am the only one who still lives. To use the Matou successor to achieve our goal in the far future."

"But fate can be quite ironic. Sakura was prepared to be an unadaptable Holy Grail, but she has shown surprising growth. My, I have gotten old. I never expected Sakura to have that much talent. Not only does she still live in spite of taking in so many Servants, but she still retains her sense of being Matou Sakura. ―――She is a true Holy Grail, just like that of the Einzbern, which I thought was impossible to make myself."

"……!" I can't hold it anymore. I'm not patient enough to keep listening to the monster's nonsense. Forgetting the possibility of Assassin's intervention…

"Enough of this bullshit…! You can't call something that only sacrifices human lives a Holy Grail―――!" I let my anger take over and dash at Zouken with a raised fist.

But. "It is a Holy Grail. First of all, even the Einzbern, who create the Holy Grail, used a human as their Holy Grail for this war." "――――What?" Zouken's smile stops me in my tracks.

"…Using a human?" …My body wobbles back. I hate myself for knowing who he's talking about, even though I don't want to understand.

"Right. Ilyasviel is also a Holy Grail. But do not consider us as the same. The Einzberns are far worse. You can ask her yourself what kind of a Holy Grail they prepared."

"――――――――" My upraised arm falls. …Not only Sakura. Even Ilya is the same, and regret takes over my body in place of anger.

"Well, I assume that was all you wanted. Then it is my turn now. The reason I called for you. I want to discuss the shadow with you."

"Wha――――" Discuss the shadow…? He must be talking about the black shadow that's attacking the people in this town. But――――

"…What are you saying? That thing is on your side. So what do you need to talk about? Do you want us to beat it?" I glower at Zouken, my voice thick with sarcasm. "Kakaka, this simplifies matters! Yes, I want you to do something about that shadow. That is why I need your powers, Emiya Shirou."

"What―――are you serious…!? You guys are on the same side, right…!?"

"On the same side…? Well, I have helped it, but it has never helped me. I cannot even communicate with it. I merely arranged its path so it would not run wild. I calmed it down every night to minimize the damage it dealt, but as of last night, I can no longer continue. Did I not tell you? I cannot manage it anymore."

"―――――――" My heart thumps loudly. 'I cannot manage it anymore.' Who is that directed to?

"――――Zouken."

"Ah, yes. I must tell you what that shadow is before anything else. In short, that is the content of the Holy Grail. People say the Holy Grail is an omnipotent pot, but the Holy Grail we aim for is not a pot. The Holy Grail is only a means. Einzbern, Makiri, and Tohsaka. What the three families aim for is to open a gate using the complete Holy Grail. You can think of the complete Holy Grail as a gate to connect this world to a world where every wish comes true."

"…Hold on. Then the Holy Grail is…" "Yes. The goal of every magus is to reach the origin. But I am not interested in such a thing. The Einzberns only thought for the completion of the Holy Grail. Tohsaka is the only family of magi that is still aiming for the origin."

"…Anyway. The Holy Grail is a gate that connects to the wish machine. The shadow is something that has leaked from the other side. The real Holy Grail―――Ilyasviel would not have done such a thing. That shadow is a mistake made by the imitated Holy Grail."

"Well, I do not like to talk about the shame of my family, but it seems I did not discipline her well enough. She matured as a Holy Grail, but it would appear she cannot shut the gate properly. I do not mind if she dies from her own carelessness, but I cannot have her involve other people. What a bother… the Holy Grail I made might kill everyone in this town."

Matou Zouken shakes his head, as if it's someone else's problem.

"――――――――" I should punch him for saying that. But his words turn my emotions to ice.

"――――Then that black shadow is…" Truly… "You should already know. That thing is Sakura's shadow. You should recognize the similarities between them." …Matou Sakura herself?

"――――――――" …I fight off the dizziness. …The truth… I accept the connection I've already known but denied. No matter what that black shadow may be… I have to accept that the crime is Sakura's as well―――

"Does Sakura――――" "No, she should not know about it. That thing is the Holy Grail's shadow that appears through Sakura. It originally should not have form, but when it passed through the gate called Sakura, it took Sakura's form and obtained a body. The Holy Grail borrowed Sakura's sealed id to come into this world."

"It was beyond my expectations to be honest. I denied it since it was impossible, but I have to accept it now that it is getting stronger by the day. That thing is a Holy Grail with a will. That is why it keeps consuming human souls to complete itself. There is only one way to stop it. If the Holy Grail is born from Sakura's unconsciousness, you merely need to stop Sakura."

"I tried to persuade Sakura, but the shadow does not want me going near her. It does not have a will of its own, but that shadow is Sakura herself. It hates whoever she hates. I cannot even go near Sakura anymore."

"……What? Then you can't get close to Sakura?" "No. You people think Sakura is under my control, but that is all in the past. She is already yours. I cannot control her, as I have been cut off from her."

"………" It's something I can be happy about. At the very least, Zouken can't do anything to Sakura. Then if we can do something about the crest worm――――

"―――Wait. You haven't done anything to Sakura?" "No, nothing at all." "Then, Sakura's still in pain, because…"

"That's her own problem. I have never used the crest worm. She is breaking down because she is a Holy Grail and the powers of the Holy Grail are flowing into her. Think about it. There is a great swirl of magical energy that can grant any wish. Her human body must receive what flows from that source. There is no way Sakura's weak mind can endure the strong onflow."

"Wha――――then Sakura will…" "Unable to bear the strain of being a Holy Grail, she will explode. No, if Sakura's consciousness empties, the Holy Grail should appear. She might be swallowed by her own shadow."

"Do you understand? It is meaningless to kill me here. The Holy Grail War ends once you defeat me. At that point, all that remains is for the Holy Grail to activate. Sakura's mind will be obliterated once that happens. If you want to save her, endure for the duration of the Holy Grail War. The timing to open the gate, the completion of the Great Holy Grail, does not last long. It has already been ten days since the war began. Judging from the past wars, this war should end in about four more days."

"―――Four days. Are you saying Sakura will survive if four days pass?" "Who knows? That is for you to determine. How was she this morning? Do you think she will last four more days?" "――――! She will. Of course she'll make it."

"I see, I see. But the same cannot be said for the other people. How many disappeared last night? How many will disappear tonight? No―――how many days do you think it will take for the whole town to be consumed?"

I can't really hear his question. Does this man sound happy or sad? My head is shaking so much that I can't tell.

Defeating Zouken won't solve the problem. Sakura won't last until the Holy Grail War ends. We can't beat that black shadow. The people in town will continue to die as long as the Holy Grail War continues. "…Then how…" Can I save Sakura?

Then… "――――It's simple. You just need to kill Sakura." Zouken states the obvious.

"――――――――" "I am correct, am I not? She cannot survive even if you let her live, and the black shadow will attack people again tonight. Kill her right now to prevent that." I feel dizzy.

"――――――――" "That is what I wish to discuss. I wanted to inform you of the current situation. I wanted to tell you that you are protecting the greatest disaster." I feel like vomiting.

"――――――――" "Sakura will notice Tohsaka's daughter or me. But she will gladly give her life if it's for you." I can't breathe.

"――――――――" "―――Ending one evil life to save thousands. You should know. If you are to carry out Emiya Kiritsugu's will, Matou Sakura is your enemy." My mind isn't working at all.

I walk down the distorted hallway, unable to give a reply. I don't feel anything even when I walk or lean against the wall. It's ugly. It feels like I'm in a twisted nightmare without an exit.

I go outside, still forgetting to breathe.

"You will not make the wrong choice. It is a pity for Sakura, but this is fate."

…I walk.

"―――But I will thank you in my granddaughter's place. She has never done anything for herself. She never cursed herself for being thrown away by her father. She did not wish to be almighty like her older sister. She was a mere puppet."

…I walk. …I walk.

"The puppet was able to sleep with the man it loved. Surely, it must be satisfied. Do not condemn yourself too much. You gave my pitiful granddaughter a gift in the end."

…I walk. …I walk. …I walk. I stumble towards my house, where Sakura is waiting.

――――I walk down the hill. I'll reach the Emiya household once I go up the usual hill.

I can't leave my room empty forever. No matter what the reason may be, I secretly met with Zouken. It's not good to let Tohsaka or Sakura know about it. So I have to go home before they notice. Go home and…

I have to make a decision.

"―――――――!" The contents of my stomach come up to my throat. I chose to ally with Sakura. I swore to protect her no matter what. I chose to be with Sakura instead of becoming a superhero. But that means…

Allowing another disaster to occur, taking hundreds of lives.

"――――――――" I can't do that. I can't do that. Emiya Shirou cannot break that oath. It is like denying myself.

If you, the only one to survive that tragedy, are to allow the tragedy… You will be rejected by everything that has supported you until now.

No matter the end. Your crime will never be forgiven.

"――――――――" To not do anything means silently approving of the action. There are innocent people who will be killed tonight. If you know that, but still will not kill the cause… You are no different than the cause of the fire that day.

'―――If you deny what you have been until now to protect one person…'

'――――Will you be on my side no matter what?'

This is a choice between protecting one person or protecting everyone besides that person. Who will I side with in the end? I have to decide by tonight.

I go to the living room. "Huh? Did you come in from the entrance-side hallway?" Ilya is sitting alone in the living room.

"Yeah. I was outside for a bit. Did anything happen while I was gone?" "Nothing happened. But you have to stay in your room and rest, Shirou. Your body is as bad as Sakura's."

"Thanks. But I'm fine as long as the cloth is on." "Geez, you'll easily faint if you're talking like―――

―――Shirou. Did something happen outside?"

"―――――No, not really." "No way! I don't know what you went to do, but don't talk to me with such empty eyes!"

"Oh――――" She scolded me. …I see. I must've looked ridiculous. It can't be helped if that's the case.

"―――I'm sorry. I know it does no good to worry, but I had to think." I shake my head. Like Ilya says, I can't empty my head. I can't go see Sakura with a miserable face, so I have to show some spirit――――!

"Yeah, good. It seems you've cheered up. So, what do you want to ask about? I'll help you, if that's all right with you." "――――――――"

…Crap. Ilya sometimes gets really kind. This is the second time she's helped me when I'm feeling down. I can't tell which of us is the older one.

"Okay. Can I ask you something, Ilya?" "All right, I'll tell you anything. What do you want to know?"

"…The Holy Grail. Tell me about the Einzbern's Holy Grail." "…I see, so you found out, huh? There were two things I didn't want you to find out, and that was one of them."

"――――Ilya. Then…" "Yeah, I'm the Holy Grail. I'm not human. I'm a homunculus made that way."

Homunculus―――― An alchemical formula to create life without a womb, using sperm and other elements. They are not born from a proper reproductive system, and therefore have physical defects. Small bodies. Short lives. Lack of intelligence. Lack of reproductive functions. They have human shapes and human lives, but they are not human, and therefore are completed with a powerful Magic Circuit.

They are weak as a life form. But they far exceed human powers when they are made as magi―――no, as Magic Circuits―――

"――――Well, so that's it. The Einzbern family raised me to function as both a Holy Grail and a Master. The function of the Holy Grail is to collect the souls of defeated heroic spirits. Humans, coffins, stew pot, it doesn't matter what it's made of as long as it has that special function. It just has to be a sufficiently large container of souls."

Ilya sounds like she's not interested. But―――this is the first time I've heard that the Holy Grail collects Servants.

"Well, it's more like retrieving them than collecting them. Servants are summoned by the Holy Grail. Then it's natural that they return through the Holy Grail after they're defeated. I'm the only Holy Grail of Einzbern, so I should have collected all of them."

"…But it seems there's someone else that's functioning as a Holy Grail. It took Caster and Lancer when I noticed, and its drawing power was greater. So it took most of the Servants. ……I was able to collect Archer because he disappeared right in front of me."

…It doesn't even need to be said. The other Holy Grail is Sakura. According to Ilya, Sakura has already taken in Caster and Lancer… as well as Saber and Berserker.

"Four Servants' worth of souls. But can you hold such a thing? Isn't it a general rule that the human body can only contain one soul?"

"Yes, all the more so if it's the soul of a heroic spirit. The magical energy of a Servant that lost its 'shell' called class is enormous. Having one in your body is like creating a typhoon in your body. But it's the function of the Holy Grail to collect seven in the end. There's no space for the soul of the container itself."

"That's why all the Holy Grails until now were inorganic substances without souls. The function of the Holy Grail is to collect the souls of all seven Servants, then to unify and manage them. ―――You don't need extra programs in there. The personality of the Holy Grail will only be erased by the function of the Holy Grail."

"In short, Shirou. The Holy Grail loses its human functions the more complete it gets. The same goes for me. Once I collect many Servants, I have to cut off my functions as a human being to control the souls."

"I can manage them if I cut off the energy that moves my limbs. I won't let the souls out if I stop breathing. I can stabilize the integration of the souls if I use all the power I've used to construct my human form."

"That's the same for Sakura. You can't function as a human once you become a Holy Grail. You don't have the power to spare."

"……But, yes. If there is a difference between us, it's that I can switch at will, but Sakura is forced to. Sakura is an incomplete black Holy Grail, so she has no right to refuse."

Ilya shows no emotion as she continues. …She knew it. She probably knew it since the time she was born, no, even before she was born. She knew that her life was made for such a stupid reason.

"――――――――" But there's something I can be glad about. I place my hand on my tense chest and look up at the heavens, as if in thanks.

"What's wrong, Shirou? I said Sakura can't be saved." I know. I know that, but…

"You two are sharing them between you two, right? Then you're still…" "Hm, yeah. Sakura took most of it, so there's no problem in me staying as myself. Rider and Assassin. Even if I collect their souls, I don't need to cut off my functions as a human being."

…Yes, that's fortunate. If I lose Ilya as well, it will mean I can't protect anybody――――

"Eh, eh, Shirou…!?" Before I know it, I'm embracing Ilya. I can't promise her anything, and it's not like I want something.

"Shirou…" "――――――――" Her body is small, so I can't hold her too tightly. I just touch her, holding her in my arms. I let my fingers feel the weight of what I must protect.

It's almost two o'clock. It's late, but I decide to make lunch and take it to Sakura's room.

"――――――――Well." I take off my apron and put the rice porridge on a tray. I take a deep breath. And I fill my heart with ice.

I don't know what I'll say if I go see Sakura in this condition. I can't do that. If Sakura figures out that I'm troubled, she'll just be even more troubled herself.

I have to freeze my emotions so that I don't reveal anything. …This will the last time. This will be the last time we will be together to just casually see each other's faces. I want our precious time together to end in laughter.

"Are you awake, Sakura? It's late, but let's eat lunch." I knock and enter her room. It seems Sakura was sleeping, but her face brightens up as soon as I enter. "―――Yes. I'm glad you came, Senpai." She happily smiles.

Time passes. Sakura is getting better. She can sit up on her own, and she even ate the rice porridge without assistance.

Lunch ends and we talk about meaningless things. Apparently sleepy after eating, Sakura continues to talk while lying in bed. That's it. That's all we can do right now.

Sakura seems well. She's breathing normally, and her cheeks are red and healthy-looking. I can believe that she won't last even a few more days.

"But I've rarely caught colds. I have a healthy body, and I've never had to stay in bed with a fever."

We started with how she dislikes cold medicine, and she's now telling me how healthy she was. It seems she's never been seriously ill, and I hear she cured any cold symptoms with her spirit.

"Spirit? You mean you warmed yourself up and rested? …No, that's not what spirit means. How can you have spirit during a cold?" "Oh, um… it's an embarrassing story, so it's a secret."

Sakura laughs in embarrassment. …Hm. It seems Sakura was an energetic child in her own way.

"So it's not that I dislike cold medicine, but it's that I can't trust it. Don't you get nervous because you can't tell the effect of the medicine?"

"Oh, I guess it was like that when I was a kid. I didn't get well even after I drank this bitter medicine, so I blamed the pain and the fever on it."

Sakura happily agrees. …Seeing her smile makes me imagine that she's getting better and that she'll be up and well tomorrow.

"――――――――" …I silence my all too convenient wish. Sakura won't get well. I can't postpone my decision, believing that everything will turn out fine once she gets better.

"――――Hey, Sakura." Maybe it's because I've accepted the cold reality. "What do you want to do once you get better?" I ask her about a what-if. I ask her about a convenient future.

"Eh…? What I want to do…?" "Yeah. Something that's fun for you. Anything's fine. I'm just asking, so don't worry about if it's possible or not." "Eh――――hmm, hold on." Sakura looks around, troubled.

After some pondering… "I guess I don't have anything. I'm fine how things are right now, and just being with you is good enough." Sakura blushes.

"――――――――" My vision narrows. I have to keep my feelings frozen.

'She has never done anything for herself.'

Damn old bastard! It's not that she hasn't done anything…! She just doesn't know how. Fun things. She doesn't know what she wants because she's never known a normal life. She's never known normal happiness, so she values such trivial things――――

"…Senpai? Um, is something wrong…?" "Huh? Oh, I was just thinking to myself."

She hasn't done anything yet. Sakura doesn't know what she should have, what she should obtain.

Sakura doesn't smile outside. Sakura doesn't make friends. A closed world, consisting of my house and the Matou's. But if I can change it, I'll pay any price――――

"S-Senpai…? Um, you're acting strange. …Does your left hand hurt?" "No, it's not that. Sakura. Let's go somewhere far away once this is all over. We've never gone anywhere for fun, right? It's good to go off and enjoy ourselves once in a while."

"――――――――" Sakura blankly stares at me. It looks like she's surprised, like she thinks it's all a dream.

"It's decided. Where do you want to go, Sakura?" "Eh――――um, where? Um――――" She thinks in confusion. She doesn't answer for a while. But she must have found a wish she wants with all her heart.

"…Um. It can be anything, right?" Sakura timidly looks up at me.

"Yeah. There's nowhere you can't go if you put your mind to it." I'm serious, but it seems she took it as a joke. Sakura smiles with relief. "Then I want to go cherry blossom viewing." And she makes a trivial wish.

"Cherry blossom viewing? You mean that cherry blossom viewing?" "Yes. We can do it here, but there are only plum trees here. I want to go cherry blossom viewing in a big field on a sunny day."

"――――I see. That certainly…" …Sounds really fun. It'll be great to watch cherry blossoms under a clear blue sky at the park by the bridge. There are many fun things. Starting out with cherry blossom viewing suits Sakura.

"―――All right. Then it's a promise. Let's go there together once you get well and once this whole mess is over." Sakura shows a satisfied smile. I make the promise and stand up.

……Yes. How great will it be if we can really do that? I imagine my own happiness that I've never imagined since the fire ten years ago.

I leave her room. All that's left is a trivial promise. It's not just Sakura's wish. This promise, which can be fulfilled come April, is my wish as well.

"――――――――" I dream of a warm fantasy with a frozen mind.

Once winter is over. Once spring arrives, we'll go view the cherry blossoms together――――

―――And it's the night I have to make my decision.

We won't be patrolling the town anymore. Tohsaka spent the whole day making the gem sword and is now resting, completely exhausted. The same goes for Ilya. The three of us ate dinner silently and went back to our own rooms.

It's ten o'clock. …The shadow should go into action soon.

"――――――――" I get up soundlessly. I grab the knife I got from the kitchen and leave my room.

The door isn't locked. I open the door without a sound and walk to the bed.

"――――――――" Sakura's sleeping. That's all I can tell. I can't tell if she's getting better or worse.

―――There's something wrong with my vision. I can't even see Sakura's face even when she's sleeping right before me.

"―――――, ―――" I suppress my dizziness and trembling. Prepare yourself. That shadow might be attacking people while I hesitate.

If there's no way to directly kill it, I have to ▊▊▊▊ Sakura here. Even if it's not Sakura's fault, people are harmed. There will be victims. There will be people who could not prevent the harm. …And Sakura will commit crimes she does not want to commit.

"――――――――" I raise the knife. My mouth is dry. It feels like my tongue's turned into a piece of cardboard. The inorganic knife sends a chill up my spine.

My eyes become numb as I think about sticking this thin scrap of metal, whose only reason of existence is its sharpness, into a living human's throat, Sakura's soft flesh. It's like stumbling and falling eye-first onto a flathead screwdriver. The blinding pain of numbness peels the cerebral membrane like an orange peel.

"――――――――" There's something wrong with my senses. The fingers holding the knife look as if they're all bending in the wrong way. It looks like psychic powers in movies. I ignore it and tighten my grip.

I…

[lazy-universes]

i just remembered one of the best moments of my childhood so imma share with the class 

picture this: 2004. i was a wee 8-year-old spending some time with my grandma in the small countryside city where my mom is from. 

now i don’t want you to picture this as a quaint little town full of trees or what not. my family has always been poor, and even in the context of this already poor little town. the city is fucking hideous. i’m talking exposed brick self-made houses. i’m talking bathrooms with slightly caved in floors threatening to let you fall in the septic tank while you’re showering. i’m talking a thin coating of red earth on pretty much everything. i’m talking about a sun that burns everything it touches. 

i, however, was none the wiser. my grandma was very stern, but had a soft spot for me, and was more than eager to let me play in the street, something i would never EVER be able to do back at home. I’d play in the street from morning to sundown, grandma would literally throw me in the shower, i’d collapse almost immediately on the bed and rinse and repeat. 

this town specifically is in a very dry area of my state. it honest to god borders a desert. so it’s very hot and doesn’t rain much, but when it does, the town has absolutely NO FUCKING CLUE how to deal with the rain. 

on that specific day, it had been raining quite a lot. i was p bummed i couldn’t go out to play so my grandma, knowing the granddaughter she had, had me help around the house to keep me busy. I was sorting different scraps of fabric grandma was sewing into a quilt when we heard a loud BOOM- 

and my grandma’s house at the time was at the foot of a hill. on top of this hill was a cemetery built in the 1940′s, in between the two there was (still is) a slum where most of my grandma’s friends lived. Grandma looked up from her sewing machine, raised an eyebrow, and went back to her sewing. Gunfight, what about it? We were used to it at the time. 

then there was another BOOM- 

and then grandma was like aight this is weird. is way louder than a gun. what the fuck. 

so she opened the front door just in time for one of her friends to BARGE into the home. I’m saying the SWAT team had NOTHING on this woman. this seventy year-old lil’ old lady BURST into the house and i was like Tia Eurita what in the actual fuck- 

and this woman, honest to god, simply BELLOWS 

“DONA DELFINA. THE DEAD ARE COMING DOWN THE HILL. THEY HAVE SONIA IN HER HOUSE”

the cemetery wall had caved in because of the rain and all of the corpses came sliding down the hill, trapping people in their houses. Grandma took one look at her friend, picked up her rosary beads, and sat down to pray (but she couldn’t because she was laughing too hard) 

anyways i thought this had been a product of my imagination until the other day i needed to look up court decisions about something unrelated and i came across this decision where the court condemned the city to pay 40k to the woman in compensation for being trapped inside her house by a corpse after the cemetery wall fell down and i was like

wait

waIT 

FORTY THOUSAND????

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hi bb congrats on 3k followers 🥺 you deserve it!! How about a smutty/angst blurb with nat, bucky, and reader being in a relationship and right now it’s going bad because something(idk what could happen it’s up to you) happened leaving bucky and nat at odds with reader trying to figure out how to get them to love each other again

Also you aren’t dumb 😡 it was an honest mistake bub

𝐼𝑁𝑉𝐴𝐿𝐼𝐷𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁

Summary: based on the request

Pairing: BuckyNat x reader

Warnings: 18+, polyamory, angst, arguing, swearing, blame, smut, threesome, oral (male -> female & female -> female), face sitting, fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, p in v sex, cum eating, talking of death

Word Count: 4617

Masterlist Link

Caught in the crossfire yet again, a worry condoned your face into a suitable expression; one of agony as you listened to the pair of your beloveds argue in your shared home. Their raised voices made it sound as though you were entrapped in a war zone, the attacks were consistent, and adjacently brutal, as they passed through your ears, succumbing terror to your being as you feared of what was to be of the three of you. The idea of such an ending was expected, all had been good, up until a few weeks back, coming home to one another had been a haven, now for them it were a dragging chore. Once, they had valued one another’s presence, hugging you in the warm embrace of peacefulness, it had been somewhat of a dream. Despite all the words and judgemental thoughts that you were shunned with in public, nothing became a barrier in the triangular relationship that you were involved in. It wasn’t a flaw in the mechanical works of your emotions to break you apart, it was simply normal for you to endure, but this, their constant screeching at one another had not been.

Glass infrastructure; a vase plummeting against the wall made you jump, shocked by the violence that they were presenting in the household. That vase had been a housewarming gift from Steve, whom seemed to be the centre of their problem. Bucky was angry with Natasha for her constant flirting with his best friend, he wasn’t appreciative of how often, even when you were all tucked up in your king sized bed, that she would be on her phone, texting the blonde for hours on end, making the man on one side of you grunt at the woman on your other. Nat scoffed at Bucky’s derelict behaviour, crossing her arms over her chest as she passed judgement onto his destructive action. “That was such a necessary thing for you to do Barnes, if I were you, I’d clean it up before your ratty little cat steps on a shard.” Alpine was seated on your lap, nuzzling his pink nose into your stomach as though he were trying to escape away from the midst of the argument and the brief mention that he was given. Lightly, you stroked comfortingly over his soft white ears, imagining that would mute the sound out from passing through them.

“You are such a bitch Natalia!” He knew that she didn’t like to be called that, a scowl frustratedly pulled at her face, as her emerald eyes pointed a squint in his direction. “Why do you have to be like this, a pathetic whore for attention from any man or woman that gives you the time of day? Steve didn’t ask for you to constantly fondle his arms at Tony’s parties, he tells me everything. Like how you have an inclination to flirt with him and offer to go away with him on a fucking road trip. All these secrets are mounting up, and I am getting sick of it. Why can’t you be more like y/n?” His voice sincerely cracked, making your eyes widen from the mention that stringed you into their serious and painful bickering. That was certainly the wrong thing for him to have said, Nat took a step of disbelief back, frowning at him as he kicked the pieces of broken porcelain about with his foot. Tears began to build up in Natasha’s eyes, making you recoil with Alpine in your arms, and stand, carrying the little fella out of the room as you entered the shared bedroom and slammed the door shut.

To topple the wavering current that was overflowing the house like the events of a tsunami, you swiftly locked the door from the inside, a reassurance that they could not enter and that you’d be left alone, and hopefully in a somewhat surrounding of peace, even if that be for the limit of a few minutes. Bucky huffed, gripping his scruff in the palm of his hand as he shook his head at Natasha, tensing his nostrils as he glared at her. “Now look what you did.” He blamed her, though if he were to comprehend an accurate fault, the dismal accountability of all things that had urged you to leave and trap yourself away with the precious feline was a balance on both of their parts. At his childish and metaphorical finger pointing, Natalia as he had called her, crossed her arms over her chest, taking a few steps back as she were ridiculed by the circumstances that he proposed upon her. “It’s so rich of you to cluster a web as disgraceful as this, Black Widow, it is clear that you were trained in the red room, a habitat for the sinners that deter the prospect of having serum running through their obsolete veins.”

The condemned usage of her heroic title belittled her, though she remained standing strong against one of her lovers, whilst the other, which was informally you, were cloaked away in the dense atmosphere that was once filled with the notion and ambience of intimacy and endearment, but was now stifling under the thumb of hoisted reverence. Natasha knew, and was concerned for your well being, aware that you’d be tearing profusely up at all of which you had witnessed; it was no pretty sight, you had for a long time evened out the ground for her and Bucky, but it seemed that your attempts at validation were no longer enough. They were falling out of love, leaving you in the middle of their poisonous and collapsing feud, of which made you substantially torn between both counterparts. Nat opted for biting her lip, and screwing her fists into balls of restraint, as she whipped her back into Bucky’s sight, and headed towards the master bedroom, rapping her knuckles against the door, halting your movements of running your fingers through Alpine’s snowy locks.

Each time you combed your hand through his soft coat, small strands slid from the outer layer of his shell, coating your leggings in small follicles that promptly stood out. It was a coping mechanism for the ravenous banging that obstructed the other side of the door; it was driving you mad, and admittedly it’d be a lie if you were to say that you weren’t tempted to unlock your barrier of security, but you had to remain strong and stand your ground against their unchivalrous bullshit, that was until they had the means to sort their transgressive mess out on their own. You had no intent on being pulled in by the strings, being controlled and manipulated like a puppet, dangling from the hands of an opposing man and woman whom were supposed to adore one another as much as they did you. Alpine’s staring was getting too much, it was as though he were judging you with his moonstone blue eyes for your ignorance of every singe thing outside of the room. Bucky stepped behind Natasha, his demeanour infuriating her all the same, but she continued to hold her ground steady, adamant to not step down from her position.

“If she doesn’t want to see me, then you’re definitely not going to sway her judgement and conception of opening the door.” Bucky squinted at her, taking offence from her words, without so much of an ounce of concern, pushing her out of the way, and tapping his scarred knuckles against the door, earning a similar lack of response, causing Nat to become smug with his deflation of confidence. Just hearing them bicker was driving you mad; Alpine, though considered to be formally owned by Bucky, one of the lovers whose words were torturing you, was the only source of comfort that you were reviling in. You hugged him to your chest, stroking the side of your face alongside the surface of his coat, as you tried to compel regents of coaxed calmness. They were toxic for one another, as had recently been revealed, but they still strived towards one of their selfish desires; and that was you. No longer did they have a hook line and sinker to reel you in, you were standing your turf as you awaited for their insistent bickering failed to cease.

“Y/n, doll, open the door.” Bucky made his attempt, speaking through the barrier and still not gaining a response from you. It was moulding his voice into a muffle as he tried again, but groaned simultaneously. To say Natasha was not impressed with his failure at getting through to you came as no surprise to her, she couldn’t quite blame you fit not wanting to talk or respond to him; she wasn’t keen on that entailment either. And it was definitely because she was majorly pissed at him, he had gotten so far up his own ass and it was irritating. He was feeling severe pity for himself, and whilst it was sometimes understandable why he was feeling so, it was not fair for him to take thus emotional charge out on Natasha. But the treatment went both ways, she was picking at him on purpose, trying to irritate him to the point where he would feel invalidated, and that she was the target of his cold brashness. You couldn’t quite your finger on why it spurred into such a terrible environment to inhabit in, however to your own dismay, it had, and it now basically mirrored hell with the torture that you endured through your cowering ears.

“Y/n honey, can you please open the door for me?” Natasha’s voice came across as sweet and collected, and could deceive anyone whom didn’t know the problematic endorsement into thinking that there was nothing wrong out in the hallway. But you knew, far too well for your own liking that that the pair of them were struggling to feel an ounce of remorse for one another, let alone love, which left that as a far fetch in their pessimistic eye lines. They loved you, and only you, congregating your three person relationship into nothing more than an accepted love triangle, and they seemed to be temporarily stable with it (if that is how it could be recorded), however, you were anything but pleased with the end result. You had tried to help make things work between the pair, but everything that yo put into action only appeared to drive a deeper wedge in the middle of them, and make a piece off them crack and wasn’t you to themselves, greedily so.

“Yeah, cause she’d sure open it for just you. I’m the golden ticket here, we all know she prefers new, and for good reason. At least every time that she wants to see me, I’m not busy with work or kissing Fury’s ass because I have a constant fear of having my intentions misinterpreted for being pardoned after all the crimes that I have committed. Half thee time you’re not even around, I’m sure she thinks that you go out of your way to avoid her, and even I don’t appreciate that fact. That’s why she clings onto me like I’m her last hope, and the reason as to why she wants us to move closer to the Wilsons; so she’s not as lonely as she currently is. I bought a cat because i knew that she is by herself half the time, what’d you do, install cameras so you can ensure she’s safe? Safe isn’t the word for that if you’re going to make sure that she’s watched in her own home, she waned time away from the compound after everything that we have been through,yet you still make her feel like its following her to eve bleak corner of this home.”

“More like you’re the golden ass here because that’s all you’ve been since Steve decided to give up the shield and pass it to Sam. Anyone’d think that you’re jealous Barnes, and that you want to be Captain America. Spoiler alert; no matter what title that you frame yourself by, or decide who you are that day, you will never carry that shield or don the helmet of true patriarchy, you don’t know how this day and age works. You will never lose the looks from people that you have stolen from, to some of them, the White Wolf is just a pathetic charade, in their eyes, you will always be the Winter Soldier.” Her words were like venom, causing discourse that diverged through the household, splitting the members apart and diminishing their morals. Though you still held onto your own strong, despite their perpendicular quarrels that formed enemy lines against ione anther. You were the white flag, wishing to prohibit a truce for the potential future that you shared together, but they were clearly still deciding on that matter. It was exhausting to endure really, even as you arm constantly waved the blank canvas in their faves as though you ere fine to start all over with each other, and you were if only things could work out; that was your largest concern, minus the fact that you often worried that they may murder one another in their slumber and you’d awaken to bloody sheets and a possessive one partner.

“You want to go there Romanoff? At least I never was prepared to sacrifice my life so that I could save the universe. But you’re back, and that’s one of the many times that you have fucked with my girl’s head. You wonder why she no longer wants to save the world - it’s because you’ve ruined it for her, one second she’s in mourning from your selfish actions, the next she’s relieved that you’re alive. That is one apparent difference between us, I am prepared to give up all this superhero bullshit up, yet you’re not. And it doesn’t just fuck with her, I’m victim to it too, and you’re not even just oblivious to how I feel - you’re ignorant. Please just get a grip Nat, and choose a priority, because this is not fair any more, and I am almost done here.” She analysed him, and you could hear his voice crack through the sternly closed door. Water pooled in his baby blues, but he ensured that no tears escaped, even as he sadly with conflict looked on at her.

“At least I didn’t kill Tony’s parents. Or y/n’s.” It was affirmative that she wanted the attention that was brought to her other commitment to dissipate, but Bucky wouldn’t release it, he was like a dog tugging on a rope. He was relentless as he verbally tore into her, and made her feel conflicted about the life that she wanted. In theory, that was the worst thing that she could have switched the pointed focus to, and you picked Alpine off from your lap, and set him on the bed. With silent footsteps, that you had no doubt that Bucky had picked up on with his enhanced senses, though he remained silent and said nothing of your movement, as he stared Natasha down, tensing his jaw as he ran through his brain of what to say. He was trying not to burst, he absolutely resented being reminded of all the things that he had been coerced into doing by HYDRA, and the fact that you were listening in made the situation that bit more vivid. Of course you knew of the murders that he had made upon your bloodline, however it was rather obvious why it was not brought up often, and yet, Natasha just couldn’t let that one slide. It had taken much time for you to warm back up to Bucky after you had discovered the crime that had taken a toll on your quality of a life as a child, but eventually you had been able to look past the things that he had done as a brain washed assassin and see the real him.

“Are you shitting me?! That’s what you bring up, right now of all times. She’s never gonna open that damned door if you keep running your mouth like you’re a fucking god, privileged to say what you want without consequences. The subject is consequences is why I’m so fucking done with you, one day I’m going to wake up to a call that says you’re dead, and that’ll be on you. And then it’ll be left to me to break the news to y/n. Stop acting like being an avenger is your only purpose, and if it is, I’d leave, that level of premature emotions in a relationship when you have a preference of being somewhere else with us is thoroughly not needed. You think I’m being a dick, sure, whatever, but at least I’m not lying to you or y/n, or my godforsaken self for that matter.” His hands made destructive gestures as he spoke, it was overall emphasis on how she was frustrating him - in other terms she had turned him into a time bomb, and he had blown. He had congregated into a mass of flame and debris, of which he was depositing within the walls, his clear anger throwing Natasha off and causing her breath to hitch as she took a step back, and braced her fingers against the wall, gulping as she became unsure of what else to say as a retort.

Your head felt like it was about to split in two, the existing lanes were overlapping; you pressed your ear to the door to confirm that strangely, for once in a long time, there was evaluated silence on the other side. For just a second you turned back, and watched as Alpine climbed onto the window sill, choosing to slip beneath the blinds so that he’d get a better view of the traffic outside. Taking a breath, you put your hand upon the doorknob, feeling the cold metal hiss against your warm skin, curling your palm around it until your slid your other hand to the lock, and pushed the fine bolt to the side, deciding to give into your own hopeful whim and open the door. The sight you were met with were the pair of them staring at one another, it almost resonated as a glare, but something else was dictating behind their adamant eyes. To soothe the commitment that they had made, of not being together but standing their in uptight silence, you walked to stand right between them so that you could snap and break their eye line. And it worked, bringing a light furrow to Bucky’s brow, and apologies of words to catch in Natasha’s throat.

“Is it over now?” It wasn’t your intent to make your voice sound as meek as it had come across, but it had, and it made Natasha feel figuratively worse about the entire ordeal. She was worried that you would call her out on the calamity that she was facing, though you did not; there was no point beginning another argument, more so when everything was now out in the open, and nothing was secluded from speech. Nat smiled at you, and raised her hand, stroking your cheek as Bucky watched with tender eyes, finally calming down. She nodded to answer your enquiry, enforcing you to sigh in utmost relief. Natasha pulled you closer, and pressed her lips against your own, as to silence the possible next words that could leave your mouth. You melted into her calm course of collision that you had moulded into, humming contently into the cavern of her wordless canal, a hand trailed over your back, it was firm and you could feel each nimble detail of vibranium that was etched into the rare metal through the material of your shirt. "Can we go to bed?" A substitutional pout made its way onto your lips as Bucky pulled you to the side, swiftly.

But instead of walking away like you feared he would, he cupped the redhead's face, and slunk his lips atop of hers, arising a wide smile upon your cheeks, finally seeing them finding solace in each other’s company. Nat pushed Bucky back to you after a minute as she backwards dragged you into the room, the super soldier picking you up as he carried you through the walls and threw you on the bed. Your body bounced for a moment, until it settled atop of the sheets, and Nat crawled towards the head of the bed, looking down at your face with her emerald eyes, engorging in the sight of your blown pupils that were directed towards her. Her hands cupped the roundness of your cheeks, descending her face lower as she purchased her lips upon your own, humming into the coven of your mouth as you reached up, tangling your hands within her red hair that she had cut above the shoulder again.

Your hips jolted on their own instinct as Bucky tore your leggings along with your panties off from your body, the cold air attacking and biting at your legs and beyond as you tried to get used to the drop in temperature below. Nat’s hands descended from your face and began to grope at your tits, leaving you in a blissful wonder, as Bucky’s warm breath hit the insides of your thighs, the contrast of his hands stroking up your legs being one of extraordinary anticipation. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t already straddled his face and set the pace yourself, though you allowed him to continue as you made out with Nat.

To provoke him into doing something more, you waggled your hips in his face, only to earn a vibranium grip on either side, holding you down and restricting you from teasing him. “I’m sorry doll.” He spoke, feeling terrible that you had heard him taunt and pry at your other third with such spite. “We’re sorry baby girl, to each other and you.” Natasha removed her lips from your own as she ogled down at you, her feline like eyes causing you to hitch your breath in your chest. She was so beautiful, each part of her was absolutely stunning, little did you know though that she was thinking the exact same about you.

“Quit teasing her Buck, give our girl what she wants.” She commanded him, and delightfully he had no hesitancy nor quarrel against her words. He ushered his face closer to your crevice of instance, nestling it towards the natural heat that radiated from your pussy, brushing the tip of his nose against your clit as his tongue darted out from the oyster of his mouth, travelling up your slit as he confided his lips around your pearl, heavily suckling upon it as yo cause your back to lurch upwards and your hands coil in the sheets below you. Nat ran her thumb over your mouth, sinking it into your mouth as you suckled upon it, your lids fluttering shut from the combination of sensations that collided through your body.

“Taste so fucking good doll, you’re addictive.” Bucky’s lips brushed against your cunt, as he raised his vibranium fingers towards your entrance, sinking one solidified length into you, as your walls clamped down on the metal. Moans ripples out from your throat as he added another one and lowered his head once more, sucking on either side of your labia, his searing blue eyes gazing into your own that were heavily lidded and struggling to remain open in the long run. “So tight, can’t wait to get my cock in here and stretch it all open so that I can go again and again.”

“Why wait?” Nat asked, aiding you in sitting up as she pulled your shirt up over your head, and then began to undress herself also. “You could just fuck her now, get your pretty prick into her puffy little pussy until she creams all over you. Just thinking about that is getting me wet, do you want to eat me out baby girl?” She enquired as she licked her lips, tugging the last garment that was on her body down that were her panties. A breath staggered out from your throat as Bucky pulled away, pressing one last kiss onto your slit as he began to remove each article of clothing that covered his flawless body.

“Yes please Natty.” As soon as those words beckoned out of your mouth, the redhead held her hands onto the bed frame, and moved to sit on your face. You were enamoured to see the sight of her cunt above you, it made you salivate from the way her flower was splayed as her clit poked out, undoubtedly aroused as she descended it down onto your face, and quickly you began to eat her out, sliding your tongue up and down her cunt, until you reached her entrance and fucked get with your wet muscle. Though your pace faltered as you felt Bucky’s tip prying at your own entrance, sinking in and making you moan against Nat’s wet cunt.

“Shit you’re so fantastic with that mouth of yours, imma ride your face for a moment baby, and I know that you can handle that.” Natasha spoke, raising up and down in the air so that your tongue was penetrating her more and less as she controlled the pace. Once Bucky had settled inside of your walls, his hands clasped onto your hips as to use them as leverage to fuck deeper into you with discretion, making the bed shake as the triad of you went at it like touch deprived animals. “I’ll forgive Bucky for anything if this is what I get.” His hand slapped her ass at that, causing her to press further down onto your face, and you to moan at the flavour of her landing on your tongue.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum all over your sexy face.” The pitch of her voice got higher as you doubled your efforts, grasping onto her ass cheeks to hold her against your face as your tongue traced every inch of her insides, her wetness spreading along your cheeks and splashing around your lips. Your own sounds vibrates against her mound as Bucky fucked into you, grunts coming from behind Nat’s overlooking silhouette, his flesh hand trailing down and pinching at your clit as Natasha orgasmed upon your face. You tried to clean up the mess that she made but she got too sensitive and crawled off from your face, laying down beside you as she watched your other lover fuck into you.

Her lips pressed kisses over your neck as Bucky couldn’t help but ram his length further into you, causing you to orgasm as he pulled out and stroked at his cock, finishing on the bottom of your belly as he held his head back in continuum relief. “Holy fuck.” He breathed, crawling into the bed beside you as Nat took up hearth on your other side, resting his head into the cushion as he caught his breath. Nat’s fingers ran through the cum on your stomach, collecting it on the pads as he raised it to your lips, smirking as you bobbed your head hungrily on your fingers despite your dazed senses.

“We sure do all make a good team.” Nat admitted, turning your face to hers to press a kiss against your lips, delving her tongue into your mouth as she pulled away and rested her head against your breasts. “And I love you.” Bucky repeated the words, leaving you to be the only one to say it back, and you didn’t hesitate to do so.

Bucky Tags; @tylard-blog1 @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @kaitieskidmore1

[henryobsessed]

The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 13

Word Count: 1599

Warning - Angst

A/N once again thanks to my beta buddy @sillyrabbit81 I'm going to finish this story this week or next hopefully :) so hehe hold onto your hats Selah

Chapter 13 – Jessie

Jessie kicked the door to the back of the house open, for the first time in a long-time panic filled her brain as she yelled, “Quick Joe get my medical bag from the truck.” All eyes turned to her. She looked a sight, blood splattered across her top, her neck and face and through her hair. In her arms lay Henry his limp body terrifying the group more than the blood. Joe quickly jumped into action, his training kicking into gear as he ran to the truck. Tom ran to Jessie attempting to take the wolf’s body from her, but she refused to let him go. Refused to accept that he was possibly gone.

She pushed past Joe into the kitchen, sizing up the situation and determining the table was the best place to operate. “Dillon, go get the tarp from the shed? Tom, clear the table off, I don’t have time to get to the clinic, so this is going to have to do.”

Together the boys worked fast, clearing the table, laying out the protective cover, and Joe organising what was needed from the travel kit that she used at the ranches. Finally, she allowed Joe to take Henry from her arms laying him out on the table.

“Where is the wound Jessie?” he asked assessing his body.

“Shoulder, right scapula, the bullet is lodged in the bone.” The panic was beginning to settle allowing her training to kick into gear, but the next words from Joe halted her.

“Jessie, are you hurt? Where did all the blood come from? This wound would not bleed like that.”

The boys all looked at her, then she looked down at Henry, she couldn’t lose it, not yet, not until he was safe. A growl built in her throat busting its way through her mouth, “Just concentrate on Henry, I’m fine. Just focus on him.”

Together they worked on the wolf, after 30 minutes all that remained was a shaved square of skin and a neatly stitched up hole. A bullet lay next to the bloody gauzes and surgical tools. Together they cleaned him up and Tom carried him up to their bedroom laying him on the bed. They attached the IV bag to her headboard and at that moment Jessie's adrenaline faded, the images of what she had witnessed, flooded her mind and she shakily slid to the floor. Not sure what to do, the boys moved towards her trying not to crowd her, but all concerned.

Questions began filtering through her haze. “Are you alright Jessie? Are you hurt? What happened?” She tried to speak, but nothing could come out, even that action was too much.

She finally heard another voice, Dillon’s talking to the boys. “We have to get her out of those clothes and in a bath, Tom, go run a bath, Joe and I will look after her here, ok.”

She heard his shaky voice protest. “No, if anyone should do that it should be me.”

She wanted to protest to tell them to leave her alone, but it was like she was trapped within her own body. Nothing was working. Gratefully, she heard Joe’s placating Tom. “We have known her a long time Tom. Please, just do what we are asking you to do.” Silence hung in the air until a small sob could be heard and then footsteps.

Very gently the boys undressed her, assessing her body for damage, they left her underclothes on thankfully unspoiled by the blood. It was a strange sensation being cared for like this, Jessie wanted to talk, wanted to move but found she was too exhausted to carry out her own wants. Dillon, the stronger of the two lifted her gently bridal style, her long legs hanging off his arm as he gently sat her in the bath. Together, they removed all traces of blood from her hair and skin. At one point Dillon left leaving Joe on his own to sit with her. “Jessie, I don’t know what’s going on, but this looks really serious. Whatever it is you know that we will look after you, protect you and Henry ok. You’re safe with us.”

The words broke through her battered brain. Her breathing began to shudder, and her shoulders shook as the tears began to fall, the fear, panic and anger all tumbling over her in waves of emotion. Dillon returned with a cup of hot coffee saw the dam break, without thought he motioned for Joe, “Get in and hold her honey.” Fully clothed Joe got in the tub and pulled Jessie into his arms the water spilling slightly over the side of the tub as their weights combined. Dillon quickly sat the coffee down and mopped up the mess to the sounds of Jessie’s muffled cries.

A long time later, Jessie was warmly rugged up on the bed next to Henry. His breathing was gentle and steady, her shudders long subsided, chairs had been bought up to the room as Joe monitored Henry and no one was willing to leave Jessie. Finally, regaining some of her focus and right mind, Jessie had a new hot cup of coffee in her hands and was trying to work out a way to describe what had happened.

She looked at the boys who were all waiting patiently. “This morning when I went out to get the milk, there was a letter from Boyd. He threatened to kill Henry and harm Tom if I didn’t meet him this afternoon in the forest.”

Angry protests left Tom’s lip at this comment and Dillion placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him, before saying, “Keep going, Jessie. So, you slipped out to meet with Boyd?”

She looked down at Henry, her hand reached out to touch his fur and calm filled her at the contact. “He was blackmailing me to be his “little woman”, threatening us, and was in the process of trying to get me to kiss him when Henry jumped out in between us. Boyd laughed and pulled a gun on him, saying that if he killed five of the six wolves here fifteen years ago, he would kill one more. Something snapped in Henry, and he leapt at Boyd. The gun went off, but it didn’t deter him. He tore Boyd apart, ripping his throat out, and… and… once he was dead, he collapsed.”

Silence filled the room as each person looked at Henry, they all knew that he was now a condemned animal. If anyone figured out what had killed Boyd, the sheriff would order his destruction. Jessie would have no legal recourse to defy the order. Slow tears began to fall again down her cheeks, if only he could turn human if only he could fight hard enough then he would be safe. No court of law would be able to say a human had killed Boyd.

The boys began to stir, and it was Tom who spoke first. “Jessie, we can’t tell anyone. we have to let him be found by someone else. Give Henry enough of a chance to heal so he can get away. Once the town knows they will put out a hunting order, he won’t be safe anywhere here.” She knew he was right, if he was strong enough to move, she would have taken him far away, but he needed at least two days more to stabilise if his healing rate was anything like last time.

Grateful for his healing abilities she said quietly, “He will be ok in two maybe three days. You saw how quickly he healed last time Joe, then I will leave. I’ll drive until he is better, then we will find a new place to live. Joe, I’m sorry to do that to you. But I’m sure you could advertise for a new Vet to fill my place.” All three boys began to protest at her words none wanting her to leave. For a life lived in solitude, she had made an impact on all of their lives.

Tired and weary Jessie placed the coffee down and laid beside her rescuer, lover, and mate. Placing her hand lightly across his body, she shut her eyes and fell asleep.

Over the following day, Henry slowly began to wake. He had stopped appearing in Jessie’s dreams and his absence was acutely felt by her.

On the morning of the second day, Joe came running into the house shouting, “Jessie, Jessie, they found him! Jessie, the sheriff and the ranchers are set up at the local hall readying a hunt. But I heard Tom’s dad say they should start here first!!”

Panic filled her body; they had run out of time.

She ran up to their room. Tom was sitting by Henry, but there was no time to worry what he would think, what any of them thought. Pushing Tom out of the way she knelt next to Henry her hand threading into his fur as she had done that last time, they were together in her dream. Desperation filled her voice as she pleaded, “Henry, please Henry, you have to change, you have to come to the surface, they are coming to get you, I can’t protect you like this! Pleeeeese! Henry change!”

She heard the sound of someone banging on the front door, and Dillon and Joe answering. Loud shouts and angry voices were heard floating up the stairs as she looked back fixing her eyes on his startled blue ones.

“Please my love, my mate. Come back to me.”

Chapter 14

[bluejayblueskies]

53 + Jon for kiss prompts <3

kiss prompt list!

53 - against a wall kiss

i went with jontim! cw for mentions of ghosts, hauntings, and demons, mentions of decay and rot, bats (the animal), and mentions of alcohol

.

Jon looks up from the small scrap of paper he’s holding, squints suspiciously at the building in front of them, and looks back down at the paper with a frown. “This can’t be right.”

 “Huh,” Tim says, peering over Jon's shoulder at the paper. It’s barely illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlamps, small pinpricks of light against the night sky. “This was supposed to be a haunting, right? Some lady kept seeing a shadowy figure out of the corner of her eye, and her lights kept burning out.”

 “Alleged haunting,” Jon says tersely. “You know as well as I do that the ‘ghost’ statements are usually absolute rubbish.”

 “Yeah, but this one’s got zest,” Tim says with a grin, swiping the paper from Jon’s hands and ignoring Jon’s noise of protest. “Usually it’s all oh, there’s a cold spot and I came home to find the telly on or whatever. But shadowy figures of darkness and deceit—”

 Tim gasps dramatically. “Jon, we could be dealing with a demon.”

 Jon fixes Tim with an unimpressed look. “It’s more likely that we’ve driven two hours outside of London just to waste our time staring at a house that looks like it hasn’t been lived in for thirty years.”

 “Yeah,” Tim says with a grimace, “the place could really use a paint job. And, uh. Some actual glass in the windows.”

 Jon sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and mutters something under his breath about don’t get paid enough to—

 Tim couldn’t agree more.

“Fine,” Jon says, sounding resigned. He rifles through his satchel for a few moments before retrieving a small black torch. He clicks it experimentally on and off a few times. “We might as well get this over with.”

 “As much as I love your enthusiasm,” Tim says, “the place is very clearly condemned, Jon. The chains across the door don’t exactly scream hey, come in, it’s completely safe!”

 Not to mention that, technically, they’d have to break and enter. But Tim had learned long ago that the only problem Jon had with that was the physical effort it took to lift himself through broken windows and over chain-link fences. He’d decided, the first time he’d seen Jon pull a lockpick set out of his pocket and pick a lock in less than a minute, that he did, in fact, have a bit of a predilection toward delinquency. Particularly when said delinquent dressed like a college professor and used words like ‘ostentatious’ and ‘salient.’

 The being a little bit in love with him bit had come later. But it wasn’t like Tim hadn’t seen it coming.

 “I don’t think there will be any demons,” Jon says flatly, and before Tim can explain that he was actually talking about things like asbestos and rotten floorboards, Jon’s crossing the street at a quick pace and approaching the house.

 “Christ,” Tim mutters under his breath, scooping his backpack up from the ground and swinging it over his shoulder as he jogs after Jon. “Forget safety, let’s- let’s just run right into an abandoned building. Great.”

 By the time Tim’s wriggled his way through one of the ground-floor windows, Jon’s already scanning the inside of the house with his torch, an expression of intense concentration on his face as he maps the walls, ceilings, and floor. “Forget thirty years,” Jon says under his breath. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s ever lived here.”

 Jon’s right; beneath all the rot and decay and dust, the house itself is threadbare and hollow, walls a dull white and floor still an unfinished wood. Somehow, that more than anything makes Tim’s stomach turn with unease. “Right, well. This has been fun, but I think we’ve established that the statement belongs solidly in the discredited section so maybe we should… go?”

 Jon makes a noncommittal noise. “Why? It’s just gotten interesting.”

 “Right,” Tim says under his breath, hating how fond he sounds. “If this house collapses on top of us and we die, I am never going to forgive you.”

 Jon scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing’s going to happen.”

 .

 “Nothing’s going to happen?” Tim demands, having just sprinted halfway down the street and into a small side alley with Jon’s hand firmly grasped in his, practically pulling him along.

 A bit breathlessly, Jon says, “Well, I- I was right. The house is still very much intact.”

 Tim affixes Jon with the strongest glare he can muster, his heart still threatening to jump straight out of his chest. “Jonathan.”

 Jon throws his hands up in the air, dragging Tim’s hand with them. “How was I supposed to know that there was something living in there?”

 “Because it was condemned, Jon! Of course there were things living there.”

 Jon lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a laugh.  “They were just bats, Tim. I would think that would be a significant improvement from demons.”

 “Hey, at least I get paid to deal with demons!” At Jon’s raised eyebrow, Tim amends, “Alleged demons. I can handle the monster-under-the-bed stories, but—”

 Tim shudders. “Bats. I hate bats.”

 Jon’s mouth curves into a smile, and this time the noise he makes falls squarely into the realm of a chuckle. “Yes, I noticed. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you make a noise quite like that.”

 “Hey, if you were getting assaulted by God’s most abhorrent creation on this Earth, you also would have screamed. I feel no shame.”

 Jon seems to realize that he’s still holding Tim’s hand at the same time Tim does. But instead of letting go, Jon squeezes Tim’s hand tighter and says, “I am sorry. I… may have gotten a bit carried away.”

 “Mm, a bit,” Tim agrees pleasantly. He squeezes Jon’s hand back reflexively, and Jon’s intake of breath is audible.

 Huh.

 Maybe it’s the adrenaline making him bold, or maybe Tim’s just gotten tired of waiting, but he finds it surprisingly easy to take a step closer, bracketing Jon between him and the brick wall of the alleyway, and say, “Jon, if I’m being completely honest: running away from a swarm of bats after breaking into a half-rotted building isn’t the worst way I pictured this evening going.”

 “Oh?” Jon says, voice pitched slightly higher.

 “I mean,” Tim says with a barely-concealed grin, “running from danger, hand in hand, catching our breath in a very narrow alley?” He shifts a bit closer to Jon, just to prove his point. “Could be worse.”

 Jon looks down at their still-joined hands, then back up at Tim with a small frown. “Are you…?” He cuts off with a small sound and a shake of his head. “Ah. Never mind.”

 God help him. Tim opts for bluntness, because if he’s going to show a few cards he may as well turn over his entire hand. “Jon, there is nowhere I’d rather be right now than holding your hand in a dingy alleyway.” He pauses, considering, then says, teasingly, “Well, almost nowhere. I hear the Canary Islands are nice this time of year.”

 Jon just stares at him for a long moment. Then, just as nerves start to creep up the back of Tim’s throat, Jon lets out a small, breathy laugh and says, “Well, until we get a statement about the Canary Islands, I suppose this will have to do.”

 Tim scoffs. “Have to do. You flatter me.”

 The smile Jon gives him warms him from the inside out. Carefully, Tim lifts his free hand and settles it on the bricks next to Jon’s head. Jon inhales sharply, and his eyes when they meet Tim’s are wide. Suddenly unsure, Tim says quietly, “Is… is this okay?”

 The noise Jon lets out is startlingly close to a whine, and he nods once before saying, in a small voice, “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

 Oh, Christ.

 Jon’s barely finished speaking when Tim leans in, tangles his fingers more firmly with Jon’s, and captures Jon’s lips with his. Jon lets out a contented sigh and relaxes back against the brick wall, and god, Tim’s never going to get that sound out of his mind. He presses closer and deepens the kiss, documenting every one of Jon’s little noises and sighs and storing them away for later, so he can relive this moment again and again and again.

 Tim’s not sure how long they stand there, Jon’s back against the wall and Tim’s hand splayed flat on the brick next to Jon’s head, before a bright flash of car headlights startles them apart. As the light fades, Jon lets out a sound suspiciously close to a giggle before pressing his free hand to his mouth to hide his smile. “Sorry,” he says, his voice muffled by his hand. “I just… all the times I imagined kissing you, I really didn’t have this in mind.”

 Tim’s brain, for a brief moment, bluescreens. “All the times?” he says in disbelief. “Jon, all the times?”

 Jon drops his hand, looking sheepish. “Yes, well. In my defense, I thought you weren’t interested.”

 “Not—” Tim cuts off with an exasperated noise. He reaches down and takes Jon’s hand in his, threading their fingers together and squeezing once. “Let it go on record that I have wanted to kiss you for a long time now and that I am very much interested.”

 “Yes,” Jon says, amused. “I know that now.”

 Tim groans. Under his breath, he mutters, “Not interested. Ridiculous.”

 Jon laughs softly before leaning forward and pressing another chaste kiss to Tim’s lips. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad that I was wrong.”

 “Jonathan Sims, admitting that he was wrong? I thought I’d never see the day.”

 Jon gives him a glare without any heat. “Yes, yes, all right.”

 I love you, Tim wants to say. But it’s entirely too early for that, and he’s certainly not going to give his heartfelt love confession in an alleyway that he’s starting to realize smells something awful. So instead, he pulls lightly on Jon’s hand and says, “Well, I’m definitely not working any more today. Fancy a pint?”

 “Only if you don’t ridicule my taste in beer.”

 “One time, Jon! That was one time.”

[ddaengyoonmin]

Pairing: Single dad / childhood best friend!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: !!ANGST!!, smut.

Word count: 7.1k

Warnings:(issa dark oneee)  Mentions of abuse, abusive parent, underage drinking and drug use, Jungkook is an ass, lots of descriptions of smoke and cigarettes in an unhealthy way. Mentions of vomiting.  Toxic behaviors in general; Rough play; handjob; edging; Sub!Jungkook; Dom!Reader; choking; biting; overstimulation; slight mentions of blood; just all around physical and emotional pain definitely not #goals.

a/n: definitely cried a bit writing this.  This story ended up becoming super important to me and something I think I’ve been holding in for a while.  A lot of this story is based on my own life and personal experiences, which is why the first part is a highschool backstory.  Absolutely nothing sexual happens until they are both adults, the first part of the story was just a necessary cathartic therapy moment for me to get out :_)

(Also I tried to make this a gender neutral insert, but this is my first time doing that so kindly let me know if there's anything I can do to improve on that!)

Song inspiration: Kathleen- Catfish and the Bottlemen; Rango- Catfish and the Bottlemen; Anything-Catfish and the Bottlemen

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He was completely insane. It never made you like him any less though.

When you’d first heard Jungkook was back in town you had so many different emotions running through you, you thought you’d faint at the feeling.

------

When you were still in highschool, he had been your closest friend.  You spent practically every day after school with Jungkook, smoking in your car, driving around through cemeteries laughing about something funny one of your teachers had said, or the security guard who’d tried to chase you down the halls for skipping 2nd hour earlier in the day.  There never seemed to be a dull moment when he was around.

 When you’d first met him, insane and reckless were never words that would’ve come into your mind.

He was a grade younger than you and had seemed to fly mostly under your radar through all your highschool years.  It wasn’t until the second half of your Junior year that you'd even noticed he existed.

You’d shown up to the first day of track practice the way you always had, scanning over the new freshman on the team.  You’d mistaken him for a freshman and greeted him as such.  He nervously and shyly corrected you that he was actually a Sophomore just searching around for something new to try out.  

About half way through the practice you noticed a group of your teammates had swarmed around Jungkook and he looked to be almost in tears as he cowered under their words and faces, looking up at them all.

He was a small child, not very muscular and extremely geeky looking.  You found it endearing though, and found the classmates picking on him infuriating.

You stormed across the track over to where they stood demanding to know their problem, they all were also a grade younger than you and seemed to be intimidated by you.  How could they not be with the star of the track team chewing them out like they were being condemned to hell.

After they left, two big saucer eyes stared up at you, tears still slightly pooled up in his lower lid, he wiped them off with the back of his hand.

“Thank you.” He sniffled. He explained that everyone in his grade always picked on him like that.  He didn’t really have any friends, and everyone seemed to think of him as the weird kid.

After that day the two of you were inseparable.  

You went to the city fair together on the last day of school that year, and that was the first time it happened.

You were supposed to be at a school sanctioned celebration, you’d told your mom that's where you’d be.

But here you were sitting in your car with Jungkook before going to the fair, the two of you giggling as he messily tried to roll a joint, swearing that his older brother had taught him how.

You felt yourself bleeding guilt for lying to your parents.  But, how could anything that sweet Jungkook convinced you to do be bad?

Stoned out of your mind the two of you ran hand in hand around the fair, giggling and riding your favorite rides too many times.  That was the first time you realized, he was truly your best friend.

That summer had you pulling a 180 on everything you’d ever thought you were capable of.

Before you knew it, you were sneaking out of your house multiple times a week to drive around with Jungkook and smoke, listening to music and feeling free.

———

It was now the middle of summer.  You were sitting in your car while Jungkook was filling up gas for you.  

Two girls and a man approached Jungkook and started chatting.  You found that odd, but then again, Jungkook had a habit of getting into conversations with strangers everywhere you went.

You never really noticed it til then, but at some point, he had really changed from the boy you met.  He was more outgoing, he was dressing better…

A tap on your window surprised you.

“Hey y/n! These guys are throwing a party at their place, let's just park your car here and go! They said just hop in!”

You felt your jaw drop a bit as you opened your mouth to protest.  But he was staring back at you so excited, so hopeful that you’ll join him.  You agreed, against all better judgement and that sick feeling in your stomach that you shouldn’t be getting into a car with strangers.

Jungkook whispered in your ear as the two of you walked to your car. “I told them we were 22” He chuckled.  Your heart dropped a bit, more sick feelings coming on.  

“Okay.” You managed to nod and agree somehow.  Jungkook excitedly opened the door to their backseat, as if he did this kind of thing all the time.

You were both lucky, the strangers were not murderers, though there was no party, just them and some beer and a hookah in a messy apartment living room.

None of it felt right, it didn’t really feel like a fun time.  Jungkook though seemed to think he was at the party of the century.  He chugged the beer they gave him in no time and was up messing with their stereo trying to get on some “PARTY MUSIC” he screamed out.

In no time at all that firecracker of a boy was wasted and trying to dance up on their table.

It wasn’t long before the apartment owners realized their mistake, this child was completely off the rails drunk.  One of them tried to bring him down from the table and he somehow managed to kick their glass hookah entirely across the room.

There was a still silence as you all looked at the shattered glass on the ground.  You had your hand clasped over your mouth looking from the glass to Jungkook.

Jungkook’s eyes were wide at you, the smile that grew on his face seemed ill fitting for the moment, as the apartment owners were obviously furious.

“Run!” Jungkook screamed out in a laugh, rushing over to you and grabbing you tightly by your wrist and pulling you out the front door.

Then the two of you ran, you just kept running down the street till your lungs gave out and you collapsed on the ground on a grassy patch in front of a gas station.

Jungkook’s chest was heaving but he still managed a loud laugh, his eyes crinkling as he held his stomach, rolling over onto his side.

“Jungkook.  That was insane…” You gasped out.

“That was fun.” he chuckled, seeming to be unphased by it all with a casual smile, rolling back onto his back and staring up at the sky.

And that was the moment you realized how crazy he was.

After that, things like this were common with Jungkook.  You were his protector at school and his partner in mischief and crime.

The two of you ended up both quitting track together, against your parent’s scolding and the coaches yelling about losing one of their star runners.  

You knew you wouldn’t be a star that year though, with all the smoking you’d been doing and you’d skipped out completely on practicing throughout the summer.  It just seemed pointless.  And you wanted more time with Jungkook before you had to leave…

———

You found yourself getting in increasingly more dangerous situations.  He’d have you take him to parties at nearby university dorms, he refused to learn to drive, part of you felt like it was just because he liked you driving him around.  

He always lied about his age, that never sat right with you.

Sometimes you found yourself gripping both hands on a beer bottle so tightly you thought your fingers might snap while he was getting talked to by every person that walked by. People loved him at first glance every time you went out together. But they didn’t know him.  

They didn’t get to see his real chaos, they never learned the lies he told them, they’d never be able to understand him.  Not like you thought you knew him.

You knew things weren’t good at home for Jungkook.  He had an older brother he was close with named Jin, and a young sister named Jill, both very lovely, but his dad was a real piece of work.  In the whole time you’d been friends with Jungkook you’d only been to his house twice, he avoided ever taking you there if he could.

You found out why when one of the times Jungkook had thought it’d be safe to bring you over for a moment, his dad got home from work early.

“What’s this shit.” His dad had grumbled at Jungkook, pointing to the light eyeliner he had around his eyes.  Jungkook had recently started to wear makeup, he did a good job of making it look natural, but today he’d gone a little heavy on the eyeliner.

“Nothing.” Jungkook muttered, turning his back to his dad.

Apparently that was the wrong move, and all you could do was stand there, frozen.

Jungkook and you have never talked about that day.  But it was traumatic for you both.  You held him close that night as he cried in your arms, sitting in the parking lot of your favorite park to smoke in.

His eye now even more black than it had been with just the eyeliner, which was now smudged across his face due to his tears.

You vowed to never let anyone hurt him ever again.  No matter what.

---------

Months later Jungkook was taking pictures of you, for your senior pictures.  Talking about how you’d be gone next year but you’d still stay in touch.  Graduation was hanging over you like a dark cloud.  You didn’t want things to change between you and Jungkook.

As much trouble as you’d gotten in, as much as your grades had dropped this year, as much as your parents gave him judgemental looks any time he was around, you loved him so much.

---------

It was the last month of school.

He was gone.

Somehow his father had managed to get your phone number and you were hearing an entire vocabulary of cuss words.

“I know you’re hiding him from me.  Where the fuck is he?’ the man growled on the other end of the phone.

You wish you knew.

But he just didn’t show up to school that day.

He didn’t text you like he always did to say that he was ready to be picked up.

No voicemail.

Not a word.

And now even his dad was calling you.  The worry that you felt had you not paying attention to one word of your classes all day.

And the next day.

And the next day.

And the rest of the week.

Until next monday.  He was just...there.

“What the fuck Jungkook!” You punched him in the shoulder.  He looked like a mess, his hair hadn’t been cut or washed in a while, and he looked like he was wearing the remnants of makeup from a few days ago.

He chuckled “I decided to just hop a train out of town for a while” He shrugged “fuck it.”

“And you couldn’t tell your best friend where you went? Do you realize I thought you were dead?” You snapped at him.

He shrugged again. “It's fine.  It was fun!” He smiled a giant toothy grin.

Your blood was boiling.  How could he not even say sorry? How could he act like this didn’t affect you at all.  It was infuriating.

You didn’t talk to him for a week.

------

You made up with Jungkook, but things never went back to normal.  You were always waiting for him to just up and leave again.  To just abandon you and act like nothing is even the matter…

You’d graduated and it was summer, you thought like last summer you’d be hanging out together most every day.

But, he stopped asking.

When you did hang out with him, he’d continuously mention this new group of friends he’d found in the town he ended up in on his little adventure.  You’d think they were celebrities the way he gushed about them.

There was a girl of course, she was ‘the most beautiful mess he’d ever seen’.  You found yourself holding back a sob at those words, because you knew exactly what he meant.  Because it was the same as what you saw when you looked at him.

He was increasingly spending more time with his new friends than you, and school would be starting for you soon...maybe it was a good thing.  He was still in highschool and you were becoming an adult, he needed friends in his grade.

That didn’t make it hurt less though.

Only about a month into summer, with a simple text Jungkook invited himself over, asking you to order some pizza and said he’d be staying the night.

In your new apartment you’d gotten to yourself after graduation, Jungkook now smoking with you on your couch, the two of you chuckling about the show you were watching.  Nothing seemed wrong at that moment, it all seemed finally back to normal between you two.

And that was the last time you had seen Jungkook for 4 years.

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

You’d checked your phone what seemed like every minute for the first month he was gone.

Even texting his brother Jin many times and getting no reply.

You waited for him to come back with some wild and crazy story of new trouble he’d gotten himself into.  You figured he had to come back, he still had school, and with Jin in college he’d never leave his little sister alone with that monster right?

But as months continued to pass, it was clear he wasn’t coming back.  All of his social media platforms had been deleted or you’d been blocked.

There weren’t enough tears in your body for how hard you cried yourself to sleep each night when you realized he really was gone.  You felt your body heaving against your mattress with each loud sob.  Your head was beginning to throb from the tears and from the stress of knowing you really had lost him.

Not that he was ever yours.

That was something you should’ve realized sooner.

Jungkook would never belong to anyone or any place.

 You chuckled at a memory of skipping class, sitting in your car in the school parking lot, his wild eyed smiling expression when he’d pass you back your cigarette completely smoked to the end.

“How!?” You’d smack his shoulder with a laugh. “It was only half smoked and I handed it to you for a hit!!! How is it gone!”

He’d wink, laugh and lean back in his seat.  “Just trying to die quicker.”

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

You’d graduated from your university this year.  Life had pretty much gone according to plan for you that way, you had to retake one class which really wasn’t bad considering how much you’d fallen off at the end of highschool.

You were finishing up your shift at the chain restaurant you’d been working at the past year.  As you were clearing off dishes sighing over another table stiffing you on a tip, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

Quickly you took the dishes into the kitchen to the dishwasher and went to the bathroom to check your phone.

It was a text from a former classmate you’d hung out with a few times.  You and Jungkook would smoke with him occasionally, though Jungkook seemed closer to him than you.  It didn’t surprise you, Jungkook made friends so easily when they weren’t in his own grade.  

Jungkook…

What was surprising was that it’d actually been a bit since you’d thought about Jungkook in a way that made your heart ache this way.  It’d been years, he was nothing more than a story you’d tell to new friends.  That wild child that you hung around with in highschool, the one who got you into so much trouble.  People’s eyes would widen at some of the stories you’d told (If only they knew the ones you didn’t dare repeat)

“You could’ve died!” They’d say.  

Or “He seems like he was just a toxic friend.”

Some even would ask you if you think maybe he could’ve been a sociopath.

You'd laugh and say it was probably true.  As much as you had hung out with Jungkook, you never quite felt like that love you held for him as your friend was ever returned.

The older you got and the more you looked back on it, Jungkook never did anything but use you.  

You drove him everywhere, you bought him dinners, you bought the cigarettes and weed, you defended him from his classmates( even though you’d seen him stab a man with a pen at a party once, over simply interrupting him.)

And what did Jungkook give to you?

Chaos.  Trouble.  Pain.  Hurt…

You closed your eyes and gulped.  You want him out of your head.  But when you open your eyes and stare back down to the text on your phone, that wish is impossible.

‘Jungkook is back’ It read.

A chill spread across your entire body and your phone clattered to the floor.  You didn’t even think about the cracked screen you’d likely caused.  Your mind was stuck on one word, one name.

Jungkook.

Jungkook…

You actually felt sick, luckily you were already in the bathroom, rushing into one of the stalls you emptied your stomach, tears forming in your eyes you collapsed with your back to the cold painted cement of the bathroom wall.

He's back.

What does that even mean?

While Jungkook had been a geeky little kid in his classmates eyes for most of his life, his reputation had started to get around.  When he went missing he was the talk of the town.  Everyone seemed to have their own theory.

“I heard he ran off with a meth dealer.” … “No, I heard he’s in florida fighting alligators.” …. “That's bullshit he's obviously finally gotten himself in juvi!” they’d all speculated.

The worst part of hearing all of that, was that you could only speculate too.

He’s back…

A second text came in.  You gulped and looked down to see a link to an instagram page kookymonster69.  Of course it was that, you chuckled.

You clicked the link and it sent you over to his page.  There were only three pictures posted, he really had just come back...you’d thought maybe he’d just blocked you so somehow this was a relief.

The first photo was a selfie, and WOW.  He did not look like the small lanky boy that you had been friends with.

He was wearing a loose fitting tank top that showed off his massive biceps and the tattoos that covered his arms and hands.  His hair was still jet black but he seemed to have learned how to perfectly style it, and his eyeliner was more on point than it's ever been.

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath. Your heart beat fast right before it sank at the second picture.

It was him with a child that looked to be around 3 years old, the caption reading ‘My lil mini me’.

Oh…

Your mind flashed back to the girl he’d always talked about, the time he’d been spending with his new friends instead of you.

Of course.

Of course that's where he went.

But why couldn’t he tell you?  Why would he think you wouldn’t want to be involved in his kids life?

You cursed again under your breath and without thinking you pressed the follow button.

“I-” You gasped.  You really hadn’t meant to do that.  But, maybe it's good he knows that you know he's back…

--------

Two days later you got a notification.  Kookymonster69 is following you on instagram.

Within minutes a dm was popping up on your screen.

“Long time no talk huh?” it read.

You wanted to throw your phone against the wall.  Though that would be the second act of unwarranted phone violence because of this little shit. So you held back.  Theres only so much in your life he’s allowed to fuck up.

How could he think that was what you wanted to hear after all this time.  No different than when he’d hopped a train out of town and came back like nothing was out of the ordinary.

No apology.  No “You must’ve been so worried”

You started to type out a message telling him off.  Asking him what the fuck was wrong with him, just dissapearing and coming back into your life like this.

You maxed out the word count on your text and re read it back over.  Sighing, you deleted every word and sent a simple.  

“Yeah...it really has been a while.  How are you?”

Damnit.  You groaned and tossed yourself onto your side on your couch.  

He replied almost instantly.  

“Better lately...I have a son.”

“I saw, he looks a lot like you.  I always knew if you had a kid they’d look just like you lol called it” you felt a smile grow on your face, despite every bone in your body reminding you of who he was, and what he’s done...here you were letting your cheeks catch fire once again at his words.

“He does. lol he’s so much smarter than me though already.”

“I don’t doubt that ;) “

It was about ten minutes and he hadn’t replied.  You knew ten minutes wasn’t a long time, nothing compared to four years.  Yet somehow those ten minutes were the longest moments you’d ever experienced.

“I wanna see you again.” the words read on your phone.  You felt your stomach tie itself up into a tight knot.  

Bad idea.  Bad idea.  You should have never even replied.

Why were you digging up the past?

You quickly turned your phone over and groaned.

Letting him back in would likely only bring you more pain.  Why the hell were you actually considering it.

This time it was your turn to wait a while before replying.  You were weighing pro’s and con’s lists in your brain and though the con’s list kept growing, the Pro list’s first and only item seemed to top it all.  ‘Its Jungkook.’

---------

So here you were.  Waiting in your car outside of the address he’d texted you to pick him up at.  You were parked outside of a cheap looking apartment building only about five minutes from where you lived.  You wondered how long he’d been here...this close to you without you knowing.  

You sucked in a deep breath when you saw him walk out the front door.   He was wearing an oversized grey baggy t-shirt and tight black skinny jeans ripped at the knee where you could see the start of a tattoo peeking out.  He had on silver chains and his hands were covered in rings, he looked like some kind of goth model.

You rolled the window down and called over to him.

“Not sure if you remember my car.” You spoke lightheartedly trying to offset the nervous feeling, and another feeling you were still trying to sort out.

He belly laughed and smoothly opened your passenger door and hopped in.

“How could I forget!” his dark eyes were wide and excited as always, his charming smile you’d once been so used to now making your brain practically glitch out. “I can’t believe you still have it.”

You shyly shook your head.  “Broke college student” You chuckled. “So what are we doing? You said you just wanted to chill…”

Jungkook smiled and relaxed back into your seat, like he’d done a million times, so naturally.  Though he didn’t look like the same small boy you once knew.

“Yeah, like old times.” He winked and pulled out a small baggie of weed.

You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“C’mon don’t tell me you quit.” He teased.

“Of course I didn’t.” You chuckled.

“Good y/n.” He smiled cutely, booping your nose with one finger, and you felt your heart stop.

Your face must’ve fallen or had some sort of expression to let him know he’d affected you, because he immediately punched your shoulder as if to snap you out of your thought.

“Give me a cigarette then and let's go.” He demanded joyfully, banging on the dash of your car and giving you an “onward” motion with his arm for you to start driving.

You drove around for about an hour, smoking cigarettes and passing a joint back and forth.

He didn’t talk much about himself or what he’d been up to and he also didn’t ask much about you either.  When you’d bring up questions you got short replies that didn’t seem very satisfying.

“So are you still with your kids mom?” You asked him as he was passing you an almost fully smoked joint.

“Hell no!” he coughed out smoke with his words.  “Evil.” he muttered and shook his head.

“Evil?”

“Yup.” he nodded, grabbing another cigarette from your pack without asking.  Just as he always used to.  What's yours was always his back then, but right now his casual way of falling back into old routines was hurting, you couldn’t stand it anymore.

You pulled into the parking lot of you and Jungkook’s favorite park you’d hangout at.  You pressed the brakes suddenly and aggressively bringing the car to a half.

“Woaah.” Jungkook giggled as he let out a tiny puff of smoke.

“You left.” You felt yourself about to explode.  Trying to hold it in was becoming impossible.

“You just LEFT.” You yelled the last word, startling him and making him cower back against the window.

“Y/n…” His eyes widened as he gave you his best puppy dog face, this was the first time you’d probably ever really yelled at him.  He’d been scolded plenty of times, but you were always soft on your Jungkook.  He didn’t deserve that though, you might not have been dating, but he’d broken your heart and you deserved an explanation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?  How could you just leave me without a word?” You felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

It was silent in your car for a while.

Jungkook brought the last hit of his cigarette to his mouth shakily.

“No.” He shook his head, doing something that always gave you the chills. The way he could turn his cutesy eyes into stone cold daggers in an instant used to make your heart drop into your stomach.  Though right now you were a bit too worked up to feel anything but anger at him.

“No?”

“Yeah.  No.  I don’t need to tell you shit.” He shook his head, his eyes not meeting yours.

“Right.” You huffed, sinking into your seat.  “Why would you.  Why would you tell your best friend what's going on in your life right?” you snapped and realized the words building inside had reached your tongue faster than your brain could tell you to stop.

“Though I guess maybe we never really were best friends? Maybe I just thought that because you hung around me so much.  But you never actually gave a shit about me did you?”

Jungkook’s eyes were widening and he was cowering further away from you.

“I would’ve done anything for you Jungkook, you know that? Died for you, killed for you.  Do you realize how many times I took the fall and got in trouble for things you did? And you just…let me.  You always just let me get hurt for you, let me ruin myself for you. And you never cared. And then you just...left.”

Your last words came out as a choked up whisper.

Jungkook was staring at the cigarette in his hand that had gone out, twirling it between his tattoo’d fingers and pursing his lips together tightly.

“Why’d you keep hanging around me then if you hated it so much.” He grumbled, seeming genuinely hurt by your words.

You sighed.  Hating that now you felt the need to comfort *him*. You shook your head.  No. He doesnt get to get away with that.

“I guess I don’t know.” You muttered glaring at him.

His eyes met yours for a moment but on seeing your anger they quickly flitted away.

“You seemed helpless.” You answered after a moment. “That's why.  I thought you needed me.  I thought I was helping you by being there for you.  I didn’t realize you were destroying me.”

At that Jungkook’s gaze was serious and direct at you.

“Destroying you?”

“Nevermind.  This was just a mistake.” You murmured starting to put your car into reverse to leave.  A large tattoo’d hand pressed onto yours stopping you.

“Hey.” He spoke seriously.

You stopped and looked over at him, already visibly exhausted from this conversation.

“Just…” He grabbed another cigarette from your pack and lit it, sucking in a large hit.  “I missed you, trust me.” he grumbled.

“Oh wow, well at least you missed me the four years you chose to not talk to me.” You hissed out slightly getting in his face, making him flinch back.

“I’m not gonna say sorry.” He whispered, his doe eyes staring at you intensely, his eyes flicking back and forth between your eyes and what seemed to be your lips.

Of course he’s not.  Of course he does know that's what you want.  You had an urge to grab his face in your hands and just shake some sense into him and scream ‘Why can’t you just have some normal human emotions you complete sociopath.’

Instead your body’s next choice of action was one that neither of you were expecting.

As if your lips were magnets, yours fell onto his quickly and perfectly, snapping the two of you in place together.  

You pulled back with a gasp, holding your lower lip between your thumb and index finger, feeling mortified at yourself.

Jungkook on the other hand had a smirk slowly growing on his face, his eyes mischievous, likely knowing this was his “in” back to your good side.  

The fact that you knew that's probably what he was thinking should’ve been enough to have you stop right there.  But the way his eyes were now scanning you up and down in admiration was too intoxicating, too addicting, you’d missed him too much.

“Do your seats still fold all the way down.” He pointed to your backseat with a chuckle.

You smacked his shoulder. “And why would that matter to you.” You teased, almost completely forgetting how angry you’d just been with him.  Damnit, how did he do that.

He shrugged with a knowing laugh, his eyes crinkling up cutely, bringing his still lit cigarette to his lips.  

“You wanna get even?” He glanced at the back seat again.

“Get even?”

“Yeah.” He winked “You seem like you’ve got a lot of pent up steam at me there.  I'm just suggesting some sanctioned punishment-” the corners of his lips curled up mischievously at the word. ”-so maybe you’ll feel a bit less upset at me.”

Bad idea.  Bad idea.  Those words were playing on a loop in your brain.

Trying to remind you of every bit of hurt and pain he’d caused you, and how if you slept with him, you knew that pain would only hurt worse the next time.

Jungkook was already getting out of the car and putting the seats of your station wagon down flat into a makeshift bed.

You had your fingers clenched tightly around your steering wheel, knuckles turning white.  This is Jungkook, not just a one night stand, not a new fling.  This is *Jungkook*.  You knew there was a higher chance than not that you’d be filled with regret after this.

But there he was now laying out in the back seat of your car, staring at you with a cute and enticing look.  “y/n.” He spoke sweetly.  “You can come punish me now” He winked.

You couldn’t deny to yourself how much you wanted him.

You took one more deep breath in and without taking another thought to it you rushed into the back seat with him.

He was laying on his side with his head propped up on his hand.

“Took you long enough.” he teased.

Before he could say anything else you were on top of him, pushing him onto his back and pressing him to the seat with one hand and putting another one over his mouth.

“You’re definitely going to have to shut up.” You growled.  

His eyes lit up at the fire you’d shown him.  He’d never seen you like this before, his sweet y/n that always looked after him, looked out for him, picked him up every time he needed it.

He knew he fucked up.  But life itself was fucked up, nothing in life is fair and no one gets what they truly deserve.  Jungkook especially.  So why would he owe anyone an apology?

This was the best he could give to you.

He nodded, agreeing to be quiet for you.

You slowly let your hand fall from his mouth and replaced it with your lips, melting into him, you were kissing him like you’d been starved for it.  Your fingers started to tangle in his hair, messing it up and tugging slightly.  

Jungkook's hand reached around your waist, pulling you against him, moving down to your hips and trying to get you to grind against him.

You quickly reached down and grabbed his wrist, pinning it above his head and shaking your head slightly as you gave him a few more pecks.

“Don’t get greedy.  You can’t be patient after all this time?” You scolded.

He stuck out his lower lip in a pout, taking in the sight of you straddling him, looking down at him with a mix of emotions still flowing through you.  

You went back to kissing him, pinning his other hand above his head and after a bit, rewarding him by pressing your core down onto his and giving him the friction he’d wanted.

He let out a soft and needy whimper as you did.

You felt butterflies filling your stomach at his noise.  It was so gentle and sweet, and to know that you were the one making Jungkook feel this way was a sense of pride you’d never felt before.

You stacked his wrists one on top of the other and held them in one hand, your other hand now slipping between where your bodies met and palming him over his jeans.

He hissed out a sharp breath and a small “fuck” fell from his lips involuntarily.

“Does that feel good baby?” You teased him pulling back from your kisses and studying his face, knowing the answer was obvious.

He bit down on his lower lip and his eyes were clenched tightly as he nodded.

Your fingers fumbled slightly but didn’t take you too long to undo his jeans and slip your hand inside, now running your hand slowly along his length over his boxers.  His hips lifted slightly off of the seat, pressing up against your hand desperately wanting more.

At that you gave him a slight squeeze, causing him to yelp out.  His eyes were wide staring up at you.

“I said don’t get greedy.  Remember, this is supposed to be for me.” You chuckled at his disappointed face. “You’ve always been so fucking selfish and greedy.” You gently kissed his lips, before roughly taking his lower one between your teeth and biting harshly.

“Fuck.” he hissed, a small drop of blood now forming where you’d nipped at him, but he only seemed more hungry for you now.

You tugged on the hem of his pants and boxers. “Off now.” You demanded.

He wasted no time after you released his wrists, he tugged down his clothes, pulling up his shirt slightly and letting his length fall against his toned lower abs.

He was so beautiful, smiling up at you with a playful look.  It was an absolute joke for you to think you were actually in charge here.  You were wrapped around his finger and you always had been.

He looked absolutely mouthwatering.  But you didn’t want to let it get to his head.  This was supposed to be payback.

You went back to kissing him, that way you didn’t have to look at him, that way you didn’t risk saying the words that you shouldn’t...

With a free hand you took his length into your hand, letting the weight of him sit in your palm for a moment before slowly tickling your fingers up and down.  He twitched under your touch and his kisses faltered as he let out a small gasp.

“y/n no more teasing.” He moaned out.

“I thought I said shut up.” Your hand was back over his mouth, but you decided to indulge him for a moment, pumping your hand up and down his length a few times.  You could feel his moans vibrate against the palm of your hand still clamped down on his lips.

You let him go and slowly moved yourself down so that his cock was positioned right in front of your face.  Letting your tongue lay flat against the base with pressure you licked a long stripe up his cock.  When you got to the tip you flicked your tongue a few times right under his head.  His hips reflexively moved up at that, begging you to take him fully in your mouth.

Instead you “tsk’d” at him a few times, loosely holding his cock in your hand and not moving.

“It's no fun just sitting there waiting is it?” You asked. “How do you think I felt waiting for you for years.” You lightly slapped the tip of his cock with your hand not holding it.

“AH!” He yelled out “Hey!” he strained his neck to be able to give you a shocked expression.

“Too far?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

He thought for a moment, then shook his head, laying back down. ��“No.  No it's not that I don’t like it.” He chuckled. “Just...it's you.  I never thought you’d be like this in bed.”

You were suddenly moving up to face him, your hand grabbing the sides of his neck tightly. “You don’t know me anymore.” You growled.  “You made sure of that by cutting me out of your life for four fucking years.” your grip on his neck tightened slightly before you released him.  

He gasped in a deep breath when you pulled away, looking up at you in awe.  

You moved your hand back between his legs now pumping quickly, twisting over his head when you’d get to it.  You ate up every moan that you pulled from his lips, they were yours, you’d caused every single one and they were yours to keep forever.

Right before it looked like he was going to cum, you pulled your hand away, leaving his cock untouched and throbbing.

“No..” He whimpered, “Please please.” His needy whines were so cute.

“But why should you get to cum?” You teased him.

He pouted dramatically. “Y/n…” He spoke sweetly “Cuz you love me. Make me cum because you love me.” He smiled a wide and precious smile.

Fuck.

Your mouth hung open at his words.  Of course he knew you loved him.

All the easier to use you.

Because that made it all the harder for you to say no to him.

Letting your forehead rest against his, you brought your hand back to his length, letting your fingers drag against his soft skin as you gripped him.  

You could see a small smirk on his face, as his breathing became even more unsteady, his moans catching in his throat as he panted heavily.

“Oh my god that feels so fucking good.” He groaned out. “Fuck.” His hands were gripping the back of the front seat that his head was pressed up against, his muscles flexing as he tightened his grip unable to contain how good you were making him feel.  

His abs were clenched and his hips were lifting off of the seat for you as he desperately fucked himself into your hand.

“I-I’m cumming.” He gasped out, his eyes met yours as he came, his mouth falling completely open and noises resembling your name were being muttered as his hips jerked and his cock twitched in your hand, spurting ropes of cum onto his stomach.

You didn’t stop moving your hand around him, waiting for him to get so sensitive that he had to pull your arm away, both of you laughing.

You rolled over next to him, turning your head to face his.  

He was facing the top of the car, eyes closed and he had a big smile on his face, seeming very satisfied with himself.

“Even?” He finally opened his eyes, turning to you with a bright grin.

You chuckled.

It probably would be asking too much to expect Jungkook to see the flaw in his logic here.  Once again, he’d gotten you to give him everything, for nothing in return, and he wanted to call that his apology.

You shook your head at him.

“No.  But I do feel a little better.”

He nodded, seeming to somehow take that as a positive.

“You’re good at that.” He sat up, taking his shirt off and using it to wipe off his stomach.

“Thanks…” You muttered.  Here it was, the regret setting in.  The feelings of ‘what the fuck did I just do’.  Even worse was the feeling of knowing now that you had, all he had to do was say the word, and you’d be right back there again.

You exited the backseat of the car quickly, rushing to grab a cigarette from your glove compartment, your fingers shaky as you brought the lighter up to the tip.  Flicking it many times but not getting a flame.

“Fuck!” You yelled, chucking the lighter as far as you could, managing to make it over a fence and into the park.  

Jungkook had just gotten out of the back seat in time to witness your little display.  He didn’t say anything, simply grabbing another lighter from the front seat along with a cigarette for himself and walking it over to you.

You let him light your cigarette and the two of you stood for a minute in silence.

“Does this mean you’re actually back…” You whispered softly, almost not wanting to even ask, not wanting to know if it wasn’t the answer you were hoping to hear.

Maybe Jungkook knew that.  Maybe that’s why he didn’t say anything at all.

He never told you he loved you, he didn’t even try and make you feel loved.

Maybe it was good that way, it might make it a bit easier when he leaves again.

Maybe it was better that way, it was kinder than being lied to.

[acquariusgb]

9/11 Hillary POV

It’s a sad day today as we remember 20 years since 9/11. Here is an extract from Hillary Rodham Clinton- A woman living history by Karen Blumenthal, talking about the events from that day.

September 11, 2001, was to be another historic day: First Lady Laura Bush was to testify about early childhood education before one of Hillary’s committees. It would be an unusual First Lady meeting. Hillary put on a bright yellow suit for the event.

She was on the phone with Ann O’Leary, her legislative director, when the first plane hit the World Trade Center. Initially, they thought it was an accident—until the second plane hit. At that point, O’Leary said, Hillary was sure it was a terrorist attack.

By the time Hillary arrived at work near the Capitol, a third plane had crashed into the Pentagon, and police were evacuating her office building. She met some of her nervous staff outside, where she tried to assure them that they would be okay and dispatched them to a staffer’s nearby home.

By then, police were trying to clear traffic, and Hillary got back in the car. One of Bill’s former advisers, Gene Sperling, happened to be nearby, and she offered him a ride. While the radio reported the grim news, Hillary frantically dialed her cell phone. First she tried to reach Chelsea. Now twenty-one and a Stanford graduate, Chelsea was staying with a friend near Union Square in Manhattan before she was to go to England for graduate school. Her mom knew she often went for a jog at that hour of the morning.

Hillary couldn’t get through. Next, the senator from New York dialed officials at the Federal Emergency Management Agency to ask about their response to the crisis.

“It was like watching her move back and forth from each role in her life minute by minute,” Sperling said. “Then suddenly, the radio announcer starts screaming, ‘Oh my God, the World Trade Tower has collapsed; oh my God, the World Trade Tower has collapsed,’ and suddenly the whole world came to a stop.”

The images of planes crashing into the towers had been horrible beyond words. But then the buildings came crashing down, killing thousands of people and remaking the famous skyline. Especially in New York City, people would look to their elected officials for assurance about their security and safety. Hillary was now on the front lines.

With so much still unknown, Hillary scrambled to get as much information as she could and to touch base with her family. She called Bill, who was in Australia for a speech. He was watching the destruction on television and wanted to know if Chelsea was okay. Though she didn’t know for sure, Hillary told him that everything was fine and not to worry.

Around the time that Hillary was calling, Chelsea had been in her friend’s apartment trying to reach her mother, but she couldn’t get through, either. Feeling an overwhelming need to reach her mom, Chelsea ran out to look for a pay phone, but there were long lines at each one. She returned to the apartment, and when her friend came back home, they followed the mayor’s advice and headed uptown.

Near Grand Central Station, people were panicking, yelling “Fire!” and “Bomb!” and running away from the terminal. Though there was no fire, Chelsea and her friend were frightened and crying. “For a brief moment I truly thought I was going to die,” she wrote later.

Chelsea was near Fiftieth Street and Madison Avenue when her mother finally got through. Just hearing her voice, Chelsea burst into tears.

After their conversation, Hillary called Bill again to tell him Chelsea was safe.

She also called Giuliani and the New York governor. She and the other New York senator, Charles Schumer, spoke with President Bush, getting his assurance that the federal government would help with the rescue process and New York’s rebuilding.

That afternoon, now wearing a more appropriate black suit, Hillary joined other senators at the Capitol Police headquarters, where they gathered to be briefed by Senate leaders. As the sun was setting, Hillary joined several hundred members of Congress on the Capitol steps. The leaders of both the House and Senate pledged their support, and called for a moment of silence. As they started to walk away, some members began singing “God Bless America,” tentatively at first, and then louder and stronger. When they finished, many lawmakers hugged. Hillary, the New York Times reported, was teary.

CNN sought her out for an interview just before President Bush was to speak to the nation. Hillary said she would stand behind the president—and she had strong language for the attackers: “Our country not only has to retaliate directly against those who perpetrated this attack, but we have to make it very clear that we cannot permit any state, any government, any institution, or individual to pursue terrorist aims that are directed at the United States or any country,” she said.

She said she expected many countries to unite behind the nation. “It’s not just an attack on the United States,” she said. “It’s an attack on everyone who cares about freedom and dignity and justice and humanity.”

After spending much of the long night on the phone, she joined the Senate the next morning to approve a resolution condemning the attack. That afternoon, she and Schumer flew from Washington to New York on a special Federal Emergency Management Agency plane. All other flights had been grounded the day before, after it was clear that four planes had been hijacked. (In addition to those that crashed into the World Trade Center and Pentagon, a fourth plane came down in a Pennsylvania field after passengers fought back against the hijackers.) On September 12, theirs was the only plane in the air, outside of Air Force fighters. At New York’s LaGuardia Airport, they boarded a helicopter to tour the damage.

The site of the World Trade Center was still smoldering and smoky as they flew over. As rescuers desperately searched for survivors below, Hillary could see the twisted girders and shattered beams where two stunning and enormous buildings had once stood.

“The TV images I’d seen the night before didn’t capture the full horror,” she wrote later. It felt like she was looking into “the jaws of hell.”

[dfroza]

To reveal the significance of our words:

(the heart is the conception place of speech)

“For the mouth simply shapes the heart’s impulses into words. And so the good man (who is filled with goodness) speaks good words, while the evil man (who is filled with evil) speaks evil words. I tell you this: on the day of judgment, people will be called to account for every careless word they have ever said. The righteous will be acquitted by their own words, and you evildoers will be condemned by your own words.”

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 12th chapter of the book of Matthew:

The Sabbath came, and Jesus walked through a field. His disciples, who were hungry, began to pick some of the grain and eat it.

When the Pharisees saw this, they reacted.

Pharisees: Look! Your disciples are breaking the law of the Sabbath!

Jesus: Haven’t you read what David did? When he and his friends were hungry, they went into God’s house and they ate the holy bread, even though neither David nor his friends, but only priests, were allowed that bread. Indeed, have you not read that on the Sabbath priests themselves do work in the temple, breaking the Sabbath law yet remaining blameless? Listen, One who is greater than the temple is here.

Do you not understand what the prophet Hosea recorded, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice”? If you understood that snippet of Scripture, you would not condemn these innocent men for ostensibly breaking the law of the Sabbath. For the Son of Man has not only the authority to heal and cast out demons, He also has authority over the Sabbath.

Jesus left the field and went to the synagogue, and there He met a man with a shriveled hand. The Pharisees wanted to set up Jesus.

Pharisees: Well, is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath too?

Jesus: Look, imagine that one of you has a sheep that falls into a ditch on the Sabbath—what would you do?

(to the Pharisees) You would dive in and rescue your sheep. Now what is more valuable, a person or a sheep? So what do you think—should I heal this man on the Sabbath? Isn’t it lawful to do good deeds on the Sabbath? (to the man with the shriveled hand) Stretch out your hand.

As the man did so, his hand was completely healed, as good as new.

The Pharisees went and mapped out plans to destroy Jesus.

Jesus knew that the Pharisees were plotting to kill Him and left the area. Many people followed Him, and He healed them all, always insisting that they tell no one about Him. He did this in keeping with the prophecy Isaiah made so long ago:

This is My servant, whom I have well chosen;

this is the One I love, the One in whom I delight.

I will place My Spirit upon Him;

He will proclaim justice to all the world.

He will not fight or shout

or talk loudly in the streets.

He will not crush a reed under His heel

or blow out a smoldering candle

until He has led justice and righteousness to final victory.

All the world will find its hope in His name.

Some of the faithful brought Jesus a man who was possessed by a demon, who was blind and mute, and Jesus healed him. The man could see and talk, and demons no longer crawled around in him.

People (astonished): Could this be the Son of David?

Pharisees: It is only through Beelzebul, the prince of demons, that this Jesus can cast out demons.

Jesus knew what the Pharisees were thinking.

Jesus: That would be like a father splitting his own household down the middle or a king cutting his kingdom in half—the household and the kingdom would fall apart. So, too, if Satan imbued people with the power to drive out demons, Satan’s kingdom would collapse. And you should think about this too: you have friends who drive out demons. If I am working as a tool of Beelzebul, whom are your people working for? When I come to you and drive out demons by the Spirit of your Father in heaven—for the glory of your Father in heaven—you should recognize and rejoice that the kingdom of God has come to you.

Imagine you wanted to break into the house of your neighbor, a strong brawny man, and steal his furniture. First, you’d have to tie up your neighbor, yes? Once he was bound and tied, you could take whatever you wanted. Similarly—he who is not with Me is against Me, and he who is not doing the Father’s work of gathering up the flock may as well be scattering the flock.

It is one thing for you to speak ill of the Son of Man. People will be forgiven for every sin they commit and blasphemy they utter. But those who call the work of God the work of Satan utterly remove themselves from God, and those who blaspheme God’s Spirit will not be forgiven, neither in this world nor in the world to come.

Good trees produce good fruits; bad trees produce bad fruits. You can always tell a tree by its fruits. You children of snakes, you who are evil—how could you possibly say anything good? For the mouth simply shapes the heart’s impulses into words. And so the good man (who is filled with goodness) speaks good words, while the evil man (who is filled with evil) speaks evil words. I tell you this: on the day of judgment, people will be called to account for every careless word they have ever said. The righteous will be acquitted by their own words, and you evildoers will be condemned by your own words.

Scribes and Pharisees: Teacher, we want to see some miraculous sign from You.

Jesus: You wicked and promiscuous generation—you are looking for signs, are you? The only sign you will be given is the sign of the prophet Jonah. Jonah spent three days and three nights in the belly of a great fish, as the Son of Man will spend three days and three nights in the belly of the earth. One day, the people of Nineveh will rise up in judgment and will condemn your present generation—for the Ninevites turned from sin to God when they heard Jonah preach, and now One far greater than Jonah is here. The Queen of the South will also stand in judgment and condemn this generation—for she came from the ends of the earth to listen to Solomon’s wisdom. And today One greater and wiser than Solomon is among you.

Let Me tell you what will happen to this wicked generation: When an evil spirit comes out of a man, it rattles around through deserts and other dry places looking for a place to rest—but it does not find anywhere to rest. So the spirit says, “I will return to the house I left.” And it returns to find that house unoccupied, tidy, swept, and sparkling clean. Well, then not only does one spirit set up shop in that sparkling house, but it brings seven even more wicked spirits along. And the poor man—the house—is worse off than he was before. This evil generation will suffer a similar fate.

While Jesus was speaking to the crowd, His mother and brothers came up and wanted to speak to Him.

Someone in the Crowd: Your mother and brothers are waiting outside to speak to You.

Jesus: Who is My mother? And who are My brothers? (pointing to His disciples) These are My mother and brothers. Anyone who does the will of My Father in heaven is My mother and brother and sister.

The Book of Matthew, Chapter 12 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 8th chapter of the book of Job that compares the destined end of the righteous and the wicked:

Then the second of Job’s three friends, Bildad the Shuhite, addressed Job.

Bildad: How long will you say these things,

your words whipping through air like a powerful wind?

Does God corrupt justice,

or does the Highest One corrupt the good?

If your children sinned against Him,

He merely administered the punishment due them for those sins.

But if you search for God

and make your appeal to the Highest One,

If you are pure and righteous,

I have no doubt He will arise for you and restore you to your righteous place.

From your modest beginnings,

the future will be bright before you.

Ask those who have come and gone!

Explore what their fathers learned and taught them.

For we are not of ages past, nor even of years gone by.

We are ignorant creatures of yesterday,

and our time on earth is only a shadow.

But the ancients are not similarly bound, are they?

Won’t they speak to and instruct you?

Won’t they draw up words from deep within?

Can papyrus grow tall without a marsh?

Can reeds flourish without water?

Even if they are hardy and unbroken,

without water they will dry up before any other plant.

So it goes with any who forget God.

The hope of the godless soon withers and dies.

His confidence breaks,

for he trusts in the tenuous threads of a spider’s web.

When he leans into his house of silken threads for support,

it won’t hold;

Though his arms grab to steady him,

it will break—he will fall and never get back up.

Still the godless appears to be a hardy plant,

thriving in full sun, sending his shoots across the garden.

The roots twine and grip the stone heap

and search for a home among the rocks.

If he is pulled up, the place will disown him saying,

“I have never seen you.”

See, his sole joy consists of this:

knowing that others will spring from the earth to take his place.

Do you see it? God will not reject the innocent;

He will not reject you or support agents of evil.

He will fill your mouth with laughter;

your lips will spill over into cries of delight.

Those who hate you will don the garment of shame,

and the home of the wicked will disappear.

The Book of Job, Chapter 8 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, may 3 of 2023 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about being “still” and knowing:

During the prophesied “end of days” (אַחֲרִית הַיָּמִים) many people will have an outer "form" (μόρφωσιν) of godliness but will deny its inner power, since their hearts will be turned away from the truth: "And because lawlessness (i.e., ἀνομία, lit. a=without; nomos=Torah) will be increased, the love of many will grow cold" (Matt. 24:12). In this connection we note that the Hebrew word for "falsehood" (or "lie") is sheker (שֶׁקֶר), which can also be read as shekar (שֶׁקַר), meaning "that which" (-שׁ) makes you cold (קַר). The truth of God can't be known apart from His passion, inner fire, desire. Indeed, the Hebrew word for "sin" (חֵטְא) means "missing the mark," though that essentially means missing the revelation of God's glory because lesser fears consume the heart and cool the passion for the truth... Let us ask the LORD to better know His heart by kindling his fire within our hearts!

"Be still and know that I am..." Prayer is a type of listening (shema), a turning back to heed the message of God’s love and hope in Messiah. Indeed, the word “teshuvah” (תְּשׁוּבָה), often translated as “repentance,” also means an answer or response to a question. God’s love is the question, and the heart’s response is the answer. Some of us may find it difficult to trust, to open our heart to receive grace and kindness. For those of us wounded by abandonment, it can be a great struggle to hear the voice of God calling you “beloved,” “worthy,” "valued," and “accepted.” When you find faith to receive God’s word of love, however, your heart comes alive and you begin to heal...

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Psalm 46:10 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm46-10-jjp.mp3

Hebrew reading page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm46-10-lesson.pdf

5.2.23 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel365

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

May 3, 2023

Action Verbs

“Let them praise the name of the LORD: for he commanded, and they were created.” (Psalm 148:5)

The concept of “fiat creation” is opposed by evolutionists and all who believe in the so-called geologic ages. Nevertheless, this is clearly the teaching of the Word of God, and God was there! Psalm 148 exhorts all the stars to praise the Lord, and then notes that, as soon as God spoke, they “were created.” Similarly, “by the word of the LORD were the heavens made; and all the host of them by the breath of his mouth.... For he spake, and it was done; he commanded, and it stood fast” (Psalm 33:6, 9).

It is worth noting that whenever the verbs “create” and “make” are used in reference to God’s work of creation, they are never in the present tense. God is not now creating or making stars or animals or people as theistic evolution requires; at the end of the six-day creation period, in fact, God “rested from all his work which God created and made” (Genesis 2:3).

This is the teaching of the New Testament also. “The worlds [that is, the space/time cosmos, the ‘aeons’] were framed [not ‘are being framed’] by the word of God [not ‘by processes of stellar evolution’], so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear [not ‘out of pre-existing materials,’ as required by theories of chemical and cosmic evolution]” (Hebrews 11:3).

The Lord Jesus Christ Himself confirmed the doctrine of recent creation. “From the beginning of the creation [not, that is, four billion years after the solar system evolved] God made them [Adam and Eve] male and female” (Mark 10:6). Thus, those who believe in the geologic ages are rejecting both the biblical record and the authority of Jesus Christ in order to attain ephemeral acceptance by the ungodly. This is a poor exchange! HMM

[sparktober]

Sparktober Bingo 2021!

Back for a new generation: Sparktober Bingo!

Instead of coming up with an Atlantis-specific list of prompts, I compiled a bunch of 2021 -tober prompt lists into one google doc here. (Links to original prompt lists are on the google doc.) Add in a list of Atlantis episodes and...

How to play:

Choose a “flavor” from the prompt sets below the cut, then paste it into this fandom bingo card generator.

Adjust your browser size til it looks right and take a screenshot, or use the html script if you’re familiar with using html on tumblr. Tag @sparktober​ if you want us to reblog it so everyone knows you’re playing!

  Sparktober Bingo Rules:

Complete a row/column, corners, or a blackout of your card by November 1, or not! Update as you go.

All fan-works are allowed: art, edits, fic, meta... bonus points to anyone who picks the “sprinkles” flavor and goes full mid-aughts by filling their bingo cards with 100x100 pixel icons.

You are allowed to pull multiple cards until you get one that inspires you, and you can also go through the prompt list of your choice in advance to pull out squicks or things you absolutely won’t write. I recommend not googling unfamiliar words from your work computer.

Use the prompts liberally! Episode titles can be treated as the episode or as generic prompts (e.g. “Epiphany” can be for an episode-related fic or a prompt for an epiphany of your choice).

  Flavor descriptions:

VANILLA: Gen prompt lists from Fictober, Inktober, Trektober Gen, and Trektober Trek.

CHOCOLATE: Zesty prompt lists from Trektober NSFW, Kinktober, and Whumptober. The multiple-prompts-per-day from Kinktober and Whumptober have been broken into individual prompts.

CANDY CORN: Fall / holiday themed prompts from TUA-tober.

SPRINKLES: Atlantis episode list (in order, in case you only want to copy certain seasons), along with characters and a few Atlantis-specific prompts.

TWIST: All of the above! (You can also manually mix and match different flavors, of course.)

Text blocks to copy into the bingo card generator are below the cut. Enjoy!!

VANILLA

“I need you.”; “You have no proof.”; “I’ve waited for this.”; “Fine, I give up.”; “I’m not saying I told you so…”; “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”; “That could have gone better.”; “This is it, isn’t it?”; “There’s no right side to this.”; “It’s so quiet.”; “I swear, it’s not always like this.”; “You keep me safe.”; “The things you make me do…”; “Your information was wrong.”; “I like that in you.”; “Not this again.”; “I’m with you, you know that.”; “This was not part of the plan.”; “I feel strange.”; “That’s what I’m known for.”; “What did I say?”; “No promises.”; “This time, do what I say.”; “Is this supposed to impress me?”; “Do you know what time it is?”; “I’m sure this has never worked, ever.”; “You could have died!”; “I don’t have to explain myself.”; “Why are we whispering?”; “Don’t ruin this.”; “Take me with you.”; Crystal; Suit; Vessel; Knot; Raven; Spirit; Fan; Watch; Pressure; Pick; Sour; Stuck; Roof; Tick; Helmet; Compass; Collide; Moon; Loop; Sprout; Fuzzy; Open; Leak; Extinct; Splat; Connect; Spark; Crispy; Patch; Slither; Risk; Meet-Cute; Amnesia; Age Difference; Pining; Sick Fic; Fake Relationship; Accidental Meeting; Epistolary; Secret Identity; Historical AU; Nightmares; Monster Hunter; Reunion; Soulmates; At Pride; Angst; Seasons; Fix-It; Coffee Shop; Movie Plot AU; Kid Fic; Actor's Other Crossover Work; OT+; Getting Together; Only One Bed; Pirates; Making Up; Forbidden Relationship; Tattoos; Halloween; Prime Directive; Lower Decks / Background Characters; Away Mission; Ship's Bar; Aliens Made Them Do It; Observation Deck; Crew with Family; Holodeck; Science Crew; Character Survives; Headcanons; Diplomacy; Decontamination; Trek Crossover; Replicator; Worldbuilding; Redshirts; Sex / Love Potion; Medical Crew; Transporters; Medbay; Interspecies Relationship; Mirrorverse; Uniforms; Mutiny; Stranded on a Planet; Rec Room; Academy Era; Second Contact; Command Crew; Off-Duty

  CHOCOLATE

A/B/O; Soft; Anonymous Sex; Penetration with Object/s; Sleeping; Intercrural Sex; Restraints; In/Under Water; Group Sex; First Time; Possessive Behavior; Dry Humping / Grinding; Overstimulation; Roleplay; Rimming; Stretching / Fisting; Power Imbalance; Food Play; Fingering; Body Worship; Sex Work; Voyeurism / Exhibitionism; Safewords; Technology; Oral Sex; Omorashi / Wetting; Crying; Underwear / Lingerie; Friends with Benefits; Pain Kink; Dirty Talk; Trick or Treat; All trussed up and nowhere to go; Talking is overrated; Sticks and stones may break my bones...; Trust fall; I've got red in my ledger; Touch and go; My spidey-sense is tingling; Coughing up a lung; Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated; Oops, I did it again; Just keep swimming; It'll be fun, they said; That's gonna leave a mark; Under pressure; Feed a cold, starve a fever; On a need-to-know basis; Field care 101; The doctor is in; Just a scratch; Lost & found; That's where the blood's supposed to be; They made me do it; You break it, you buy it; One down, two to go; Hide & Seek; You will go down with this ship; “I'm fine, I prom...”; It's (not) just in your head; All work and no play; Digging your grave; Hurt & Comfort; “You have to let go.”; Garotte; Taunting; “Do you trust me?”; Betrayal; Bruises; Helplessness; Pneumothorax; Presumed Dead; Hospital; Adrift; Torture; “This is gonna suck.”; Crush injuries; Delirium; Recovery; “Please don't move.”; “Now smile for the camera.”; Bitten; Trunk; Bleeding through bandages; Cursed; Auction; Self-induced injuries to escape; Escape; Fallen; Passing out; “Good, you're finally awake.”; “You're still not dead?”; Major character death; Disaster zone; Barbed Wire; Choking; Insults; Taken Hostage; Misunderstanding; Touch Starved; Numbness; Exotic Illness; (Blind) Rage; Flare-Up; Drowning; Made To Watch; Burns; Beaten; Fever Dreams; Scars; Hemorrhage; Doctor Visit; Bleeding; Trapped Under Water; Pressure; Demon; Ransom; Flashback; Flight; Waterfall; Vertigo; Nightmares; Too Weak To Move; Left For Dead; Trauma; Bound; Gagged; “Who Did This To You?”; Pushed; Broken Nose; Hunger; Blindness; “Definitely Just A Cold”; Tears; Ice Chips; Dehydration; Begging; Cauterization; Force; Bees; Aftermath; Dread; Cpr; Stabbing; Solitary Confinement; Blood-Matted Hair; Obsession; Pursuit; Revenge; Hiding; Trap Door; Collapse; Panic; Overworked; Ghosts; Prisoner; Losing Control; Threats; Caning; Mercy; Forgotten; Head Injury; Screaming; Comfort; Self-Sacrifice; Trapped; Near-Death Experience; Regret; Tragedy; Battlefield; Anxiety; Gore; Petplay; Bimbofication; Panties & Lingerie; Bondage; Double Penetration in 2 Holes; Breeding; Humiliation; NTR; Incest; Emeto; Omorashi; Free Use; Crossdressing; Public; Three (or more) some; Daddy & Mommy; Double Penetration in 1 Hole; Distention & Cockbulge; Xenophilia; Shotgunning; Watersports; Pregnancy; Lactation; Waxplay; Grooming; Human Furniture; Feet; Prostituion; MacroMicro; Spanking; Cockwarming; Glory Hole; Somnophilia; Body Modification; Temperature Play; Leather; Size Difference; Sounding; Stockings; Tentacles; Medical Play; Stripping; Orgasm Denial; Master & slave; Scissoring; Titfucking; Frottage; Knifeplay; Formal Wear; Breathplay; Fisting; Pegging; Scat; Beastiality; Fucking Machine; Tickling; Boot Worship; Bukkake; Collaring; Foodplay; Non or dubcon; Feederism; Sensory Deprivation; Oviposition; Clone & Selfcest; Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Impact Play; Sadomasochism; Bloodplay; Praise Kink; Body Swap; Sweat; Branding; Massage; Role Reversal; Armpit; Masturbation; Inflation; Sex Toys; Burnplay; Menophilia; Stuck in Wall; Deepthroating & Facesitting; Dacryphilia; Hate Sex

  CANDY CORN

Birthday; Sick Day; Autumn; Candles; Plaid / Flannel; Leaf Piles; Sweaters; Baking; Cinnamon; Pumpkin Spice Latte; Carnival; Movie Night; Candy; Graveyard; Black Cats; Goosebumps; Pumpkin; Party; Monster; Ghosts; Witch; Vampire; Traditions; Magic; Mask; Haunted House; Trick; Treat; Costume; Monster Mash; Halloween

  SPRINKLES

Rising Part 1; Rising Part 2; Hide and Seek; Thirty-Eight Minutes; Suspicion; Childhood's End; Poisoning the Well; Underground; Home; The Storm; The Eye; The Defiant One; Hot Zone; Sanctuary; Before I Sleep; The Brotherhood; Letters from Pegasus; The Gift; The Siege Part 1; The Siege Part 2; The Siege Part 3; The Intruder; Runner; Duet; Condemned; Trinity; Instinct; Conversion; Aurora; The Lost Boys; The Hive; Epiphany; Critical Mass; Grace Under Pressure; The Tower; The Long Goodbye; Coup d'Etat; Michael; Inferno; Allies; No Man's Land; Misbegotten; Irresistible; Sateda; Progeny; The Real World; Common Ground; McKay and Mrs. Miller; Phantoms; The Return Part 1; The Return Part 2; Echoes; Irresponsible; Tao of Rodney; The Game; The Ark; Sunday; Submersion; Vengeance; First Strike; Adrift; Lifeline; Reunion; Doppelganger; Travelers; Tabula Rasa; Missing; The Seer; Miller's Crossing; This Mortal Coil; Be All My Sins Remember'd; Spoils of War; Quarantine; Harmony; Outcast; Trio; Midway; The Kindred Part 1; The Kindred Part 2; The Last Man; Search and Rescue; The Seed; Broken Ties; The Daedalus Variations; Ghost in the Machine; The Shrine; Whispers; The Queen; Tracker; First Contact; The Lost Tribe; Outsiders; Inquisition; The Prodigal; Remnants; Brain Storm; Infection; Identity; Vegas; Enemy at the Gate; Ronon Dex; Teyla Emmagan; John Sheppard; Carson Beckett; Elizabeth Weir; Rodney McKay; Jennifer Keller; Samantha Carter; Aiden Ford; Radek Zelenka; Kate Heightmeyer; Evan Lorne; Laura Cadman; Kolya; Chuck; Peter Grodin; Steven Caldwell; Lantea; Ocean; Ancient(s); Richard Woolsey; Athosians; Daedalus; Wraith; Nanites; Asurans; Genii; DHD; SGC; Stargate; Earth; Antarctica; Ascension

 TWIST

“I need you.”; “You have no proof.”; “I’ve waited for this.”; “Fine, I give up.”; “I’m not saying I told you so…”; “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”; “That could have gone better.”; “This is it, isn’t it?”; “There’s no right side to this.”; “It’s so quiet.”; “I swear, it’s not always like this.”; “You keep me safe.”; “The things you make me do…”; “Your information was wrong.”; “I like that in you.”; “Not this again.”; “I’m with you, you know that.”; “This was not part of the plan.”; “I feel strange.”; “That’s what I’m known for.”; “What did I say?”; “No promises.”; “This time, do what I say.”; “Is this supposed to impress me?”; “Do you know what time it is?”; “I’m sure this has never worked, ever.”; “You could have died!”; “I don’t have to explain myself.”; “Why are we whispering?”; “Don’t ruin this.”; “Take me with you.”; Crystal; Suit; Vessel; Knot; Raven; Spirit; Fan; Watch; Pressure; Pick; Sour; Stuck; Roof; Tick; Helmet; Compass; Collide; Moon; Loop; Sprout; Fuzzy; Open; Leak; Extinct; Splat; Connect; Spark; Crispy; Patch; Slither; Risk; Meet-Cute; Amnesia; Age Difference; Pining; Sick Fic; Fake Relationship; Accidental Meeting; Epistolary; Secret Identity; Historical AU; Nightmares; Monster Hunter; A/B/O; Reunion; Soulmates; At Pride; Angst; Seasons; Fix-It; Coffee Shop; Movie Plot AU; Kid Fic; Actor's Other Crossover Work; OT+; Getting Together; Only One Bed; Pirates; Making Up; Forbidden Relationship; Tattoos; Halloween; Prime Directive; Lower Decks / Background Characters; Away Mission; Ship's Bar; Aliens Made Them Do It; Observation Deck; Crew with Family; Holodeck; Science Crew; Character Survives; Headcanons; Diplomacy; Decontamination; Trek Crossover; Replicator; Worldbuilding; Redshirts; Sex / Love Potion; Medical Crew; Transporters; Medbay; Interspecies Relationship; Mirrorverse; Uniforms; Mutiny; Stranded on a Planet; Rec Room; Academy Era; Second Contact; Command Crew; Off-Duty; Soft; Anonymous Sex; Penetration with Object/s; Sleeping; Intercrural Sex; Restraints; In/Under Water; Group Sex; First Time; Possessive Behavior; Dry Humping / Grinding; Overstimulation; Roleplay; Rimming; Stretching / Fisting; Power Imbalance; Food Play; Fingering; Body Worship; Sex Work; Voyeurism / Exhibitionism; Safewords; Technology; Oral Sex; Omorashi / Wetting; Crying; Underwear / Lingerie; Friends with Benefits; Pain Kink; Dirty Talk; Trick or Treat; All trussed up and nowhere to go; Talking is overrated; Sticks and stones may break my bones...; Trust fall; I've got red in my ledger; Touch and go; My spidey-sense is tingling; Coughing up a lung; Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated; Oops, I did it again; Just keep swimming; It'll be fun, they said; That's gonna leave a mark; Under pressure; Feed a cold, starve a fever; On a need-to-know basis; Field care 101; The doctor is in; Just a scratch; Lost & found; That's where the blood's supposed to be; They made me do it; You break it, you buy it; One down, two to go; You will go down with this ship; “I'm fine, I prom...”; It's (not) just in your head; All work and no play; Digging your grave; Hurt & Comfort; “You have to let go.”; Garotte; Taunting; “Do you trust me?”; Betrayal; Bruises; Helplessness; Pneumothorax; Presumed Dead; Hospital; Adrift; Torture; “This is gonna suck.”; Crush injuries; Delirium; Recovery; “Please don't move.”; “Now smile for the camera.”; Bitten; Trunk; Bleeding through bandages; Cursed; Auction; Self-induced injuries to escape; Escape; Fallen; Passing out; “Good, you're finally awake.”; “You're still not dead?”; Major character death; Disaster zone; Barbed Wire; Choking; Insults; Taken Hostage; Misunderstanding; Touch Starved; Numbness; Exotic Illness; (Blind) Rage; Flare-Up; Drowning; Made To Watch; Burns; Beaten; Fever Dreams; Scars; Hemorrhage; Doctor Visit; Bleeding; Trapped Under Water; Demon; Ransom; Flashback; Flight; Waterfall; Vertigo; Too Weak To Move; Left For Dead; Trauma; Bound; Gagged; “Who Did This To You?”; Pushed; Broken Nose; Hunger; Blindness; “Definitely Just A Cold”; Tears; Ice Chips; Dehydration; Begging; Cauterization; Force; Bees; Aftermath; Dread; Cpr; Stabbing; Solitary Confinement; Blood-Matted Hair; Obsession; Pursuit; Revenge; Hiding; Trap Door; Collapse; Panic; Overworked; Ghosts; Prisoner; Losing Control; Threats; Caning; Mercy; Forgotten; Head Injury; Screaming; Comfort; Self-Sacrifice; Trapped; Near-Death Experience; Regret; Tragedy; Battlefield; Anxiety; Gore; Petplay; Bimbofication; Panties & Lingerie; Bondage; Double Penetration in 2 Holes; Breeding; Humiliation; NTR; Incest; Emeto; Omorashi; Free Use; Crossdressing; Public; Three (or more) some; Daddy & Mommy; Double Penetration in 1 Hole; Distention & Cockbulge; Xenophilia; Shotgunning; Watersports; Pregnancy; Lactation; Waxplay; Grooming; Human Furniture; Feet; Prostituion; MacroMicro; Spanking; Cockwarming; Glory Hole; Somnophilia; Body Modification; Temperature Play; Leather; Size Difference; Sounding; Stockings; Tentacles; Medical Play; Stripping; Orgasm Denial; Master & slave; Scissoring; Titfucking; Frottage; Knifeplay; Formal Wear; Breathplay; Fisting; Pegging; Scat; Beastiality; Fucking Machine; Tickling; Boot Worship; Bukkake; Collaring; Foodplay; Non or dubcon; Feederism; Sensory Deprivation; Oviposition; Clone & Selfcest; Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Impact Play; Sadomasochism; Bloodplay; Praise Kink; Body Swap; Sweat; Branding; Massage; Role Reversal; Armpit; Masturbation; Inflation; Sex Toys; Burnplay; Menophilia; Stuck in Wall; Deepthroating & Facesitting; Dacryphilia; Hate Sex; Birthday; Sick Day; Autumn; Candles; Plaid / Flannel; Leaf Piles; Sweaters; Baking; Cinnamon; Pumpkin Spice Latte; Carnival; Movie Night; Candy; Graveyard; Black Cats; Goosebumps; Pumpkin; Party; Monster; Witch; Vampire; Traditions; Magic; Mask; Haunted House; Trick; Treat; Costume; Monster Mash; Rising Part 1; Rising Part 2; Hide and Seek; Thirty-Eight Minutes; Suspicion; Childhood's End; Poisoning the Well; Underground; Home; The Storm; The Eye; The Defiant One; Hot Zone; Sanctuary; Before I Sleep; The Brotherhood; Letters from Pegasus; The Gift; The Siege Part 1; The Siege Part 2; The Siege Part 3; The Intruder; Runner; Duet; Condemned; Trinity; Instinct; Conversion; Aurora; The Lost Boys; The Hive; Epiphany; Critical Mass; Grace Under Pressure; The Tower; The Long Goodbye; Coup d'Etat; Michael; Inferno; Allies; No Man's Land; Misbegotten; Irresistible; Sateda; Progeny; The Real World; Common Ground; McKay and Mrs. Miller; Phantoms; The Return Part 1; The Return Part 2; Echoes; Irresponsible; Tao of Rodney; The Game; The Ark; Sunday; Submersion; Vengeance; First Strike; Lifeline; Doppelganger; Travelers; Tabula Rasa; Missing; The Seer; Miller's Crossing; This Mortal Coil; Be All My Sins Remember'd; Spoils of War; Quarantine; Harmony; Outcast; Trio; Midway; The Kindred Part 1; The Kindred Part 2; The Last Man; Search and Rescue; The Seed; Broken Ties; The Daedalus Variations; Ghost in the Machine; The Shrine; Whispers; The Queen; Tracker; First Contact; The Lost Tribe; Outsiders; Inquisition; The Prodigal; Remnants; Brain Storm; Infection; Identity; Vegas; Enemy at the Gate; Ronon Dex; Teyla Emmagan; John Sheppard; Carson Beckett; Elizabeth Weir; Rodney McKay; Jennifer Keller; Samantha Carter; Aiden Ford; Radek Zelenka; Kate Heightmeyer; Evan Lorne; Laura Cadman; Kolya; Chuck; Peter Grodin; Steven Caldwell; Lantea; Ocean; Ancient(s); Richard Woolsey; Athosians; Daedalus; Wraith; Nanites; Asurans; Genii; DHD; SGC; Stargate; Earth; Antarctica; Ascension