#and for the love of christ convincing the majority of the planet that it is now an act of self care wooo feminism

[pinkumiilku]

I think makeup is a satanic cult.

[nitewrighter]

Okay so I've been thinking about this for a while. So back in the 80's John Byrne overhauled the Superman origin story to come up with the concept of Krypton as this cold, technologically-driven planet--and this was partially so that the ship Superman arrived on earth in was an artificial womb so that he would kind of, technically, be 'born' on Earth (which honesty cuts into a lot of the pathos of Krypton and Lara and Jor as parents and also cuts into the 'Superman as immigrant' narrative which we've come to love so much). And this did end up influencing Superman lore because, hey, Krypton as a technologically-driven society that is deeply flawed but also convinced of its own perfection is still really interesting.

Cut to Snyder making 'Man of Steel' in 2013 where he asserts that Kal-El is the first "natural" birth on Krypton in centuries. So basically because Snyder wanted to work in more of his Christ metaphor for Superman ("His birth is a HUUUUGE DEEAL"), you end up back with the lore that yes, Kal-El was a (born) baby when he got put in his rocket and thus it's back to an immigrant narrative.

Anyway, ANYWAY, my point is, even though both these writers were working from a weird conservative place that fundamentally misunderstands major points of Superman's character (In Byrne's case, Superman as an immigrant, and in Snyder's case, Superman as Jewish/Space Moses) it has resulted in what may be my favorite implication of Superman Lore: That Jor-El and Lara were considered pervert freaks for having a baby the old-fashioned way. If Krypton never blew up, Kal-El would have grown up relentlessly bullied, like "That's Kal-El, his parents had him by having sex, without input from the proper committees, he came out of a vagina, what a freak."

Sidenote but I'm actually really enjoying the "House of El" YA graphic novels right now, because it's basically Lara and Jor going, "The only way to save Krypton is by inflicting ADHD on random teenagers."

[bungoustraypups]

@daught3rsofcain i made a separate post for this, btw, to respect creantzy and (try to) keep any more unnecessary fighting off of their posts, however i feel this needs to be addressed given how it caused issues over on twitter and i wanna make my stance clear as well as make it clear that this kind of comment is unacceptable

tl;dr for anyone who doesn't wanna/can't/doesn't have time to read my whole rant/already agrees with me and doesn't need to be convinced on why you should shut the fuck up if you see fanart/fanfic/other fan shit you dislike or that mildly bothers you but is otherwise harming no one online: curate your online spaces, block liberally and without question, do whatever you need to do to be comfortable, but never demand that other people bend to your will just because you personally think something is disrespectful to you

i'm gonna keep it brief: don't say this shit on someone's art.

you might think it's disrespectful and "disgusting", but that doesn't actually make it so. i implore you to do a little googling into the history of romantic jesus depictions, because if you do, you'll quickly find that people have been doing this very thing for literal centuries.

yes, they had pushback even back then, as most artists who make any kind of art esp religious art often do no matter what they're depicting, but obviously the fact that people continuously do it and that most christians either don't give a fuck or at the very least ignore it and move on.

if you were truly so incensed upon seeing silly fanart of bsd fyodor dostoevsky and a very historically inaccurate depiction of jesus christ based off of leonardo da vinci's gay lover (yes, that is where this very popular depiction of jesus comes from, while there's some debate over who exactly was the muse as leo had a few gay lovers, most people agree the depictions of white or fair-skinned jesus today that are similar to the ones da vinci made are based off of someone he was in love with whether they were in a relationship officially yet or not) you simply could have blocked OP or the post or simply ignored it, and yet you chose instead to do this, which is why i bothered responding

people threatened creantzy on twitter and sent death threats to them over this, for much the same reason as you claim to have left this thoughtless, hurtful comment. even if creantzy doesn't care and can brush it off, which is a fair and valid response, the way people online feel entitled to force everyone they interact with to only produce material they personally agree with is childish, immature, cruel, entitled, and quite frankly, shitty behavior.

it would be one thing if this artwork depicted, for example, a marginalized religious figure, but considering Christianity is not just a major global religion, but is the current dominant global religion with approximately 2.4 billion followers worldwide, and most countries have no discriminatory laws against the practice of christianity or against christians themselves, when the same cannot be said for literally every other religion on the planet right now to varying degrees (if you live in the USA, for example, we may not explicitly forbid the practice of other religions, but hate crimes are rising, especially antisemitic and islamophobic hate crimes, and the perpetrators of those crimes are largely either atheists who were formerly christian, or current christians; and almost all of our major holidays are centered around christian religious holidays, even if the marketing no longer reflects this, that doesn't make it less true)...

basically you're causing a fuss over a non-issue. my grandma is very christian and thinks this art is pretty and even though she doesn't get it, has no real issue with it considering christians themselves have been doing this for... almost since christianity began, arguably. your opinions don't dictate what people should or shouldn't post online.

block, move on, and live your life. stop harassing artists.

[sailormoonandme]

Usagi’s Evolution as a Healer Goddess

The other day I saw a post discussing the evolution of Usagi’s fuku and it occurred to me how Eternal Sailor Moon’s costume was her first Senshi uniform to ditch the tiara. 

That in turn led me to consider how that kind of makes Usagi weaker as it removes a very useful weapon for her. After all, if you include the movies, Usagi uses some variant of Moon Tiara Action in practically every season prior to Stars.

However, dwelling more upon it I realized how this tiny change was all too appropriate for Usagi’s character development.

Firstly, by supplanting the Tiara with her Moon planetary symbol, Eternal Sailor Moon more closely resembles both Queen Serenity, her own Princess Serenity form and her future self as Neo-Queen Serenity. 

Since all three are objectively more powerful than Usagi typically is as Sailor Moon I think the change emphasises how she has ‘levelled up’ in her Eternal form. When combined with the angel wings, Eternal Sailor Moon shifts Usagi visually closer to her future self as NQS, which in the anime is implied to be her most powerful incarnation.* It is almost as though the visual was communicating that the Divine Miracle Magic that she’d previously drawn upon as Princess Serenity in Classic-SuperS had now become ingrained in her standard Senshi form and thus was more accessible to her. 

It was in thinking of her previous efforts as Princess Serenity that I inevitably recalled her duel with Metalia/Beryl in episode 46 and realized that Eternal Sailor Moon was the first time since Classic that Usagi’s default attack was a healing  technique not a destructive one. 

Moon Healing Escalation was Usagi’s first healing technique but until Starlight Honeymoon Therapy Kiss (and it’s later upgrade, Silver Moon Crystal Power Kiss) it was also her only healing technique. 

Between regaining healing techniques and ditching her tiara/other destructive attacks/weapons, I think this represents her subtle growth in both her power and status. After all, it is a sad fact of life that it is easier to destroy something rather than fix it, thereby making the latter far more impressive.**

This skewing towards healing power rather than destructive power is also (arguably) thematically appropriate given the nature of Sailor Moon as a female power fantasy as (rightly or wrongly) the act of healing is typically coded as feminine. 

We can even take this further by examining things from the ‘opposite direction’ as it were.

Consider that in the climactic final episodes of Sailor Stars, Eternal Sailor Moon’s healing technique actually fails her when used against Galaxia. In later episodes, upon adopting her Princess Serenity form (complete with larger and more obviously angelic wings), she uses a sword to duel Galaxia.

Obviously a sword is, at least predominantly, an offensive weapon and can therefore be viewed as symbolic of aggression; let’s leave any Freudian or gendered interpretations alone for today. Her use of the sword is highly uncharacteristic (in the anime). Even her explicitly offencive weapons (like the Cutie Moon Rod or Spiral Moon Heart Rod) weren’t as clearly aggressive nor obviously violent. Desperate times calling for desperate measures? Perhaps, but we might also speculate it was her subconsciously reacting to grief. Not only can grief make you act in ways you wouldn’t normally, but a sword after all was a weapon wielded by her lover in his Prince Endymion incarnation. Her lover whom Usagi had just learned Galaxia had murdered. In other words, amidst her grief she reacts by going too hard in the other direction after healing her enemy proves ineffective.

However, when all is said and done the sword fails her.*** Ultimately is simply escalates the conflict by prompting Galaxia to become Chaos Galaxia and thereby make Usagi’s chances of victory all the slimmer. If we wished to stretch things, you could perhaps say that this is a commentary about how war and violence ultimately begets yet more war and violence.

Even if that is an over extrapolation though, it still served to emphasis the point that a sword is not befitting of Usagi, that she was doomed to lose if she continued to battle with destroying her enemy as the end goal.

In fact, her road to real victory begins when she not doesn’t attack Galaxia but makes it easier for herself to be attacked. In the end, Usagi doesn’t confront her most powerful enemy as the God-Queen of the future, the demi-goddess Princess of the distant past, the sailor-suited soldier of love and justice in the present, nor even a humble school girl.

She does it by literally stripping herself of all those things, of stripping herself of everything in fact.

Her weapons? Gone.

Her other items, like her Tiare? Gone.

Her comrades? Gone, and they’d be powerless against Galaxia anyway.

And finally, even her clothes? Gone!

Beyond the Silver Crystal (an outward visualization of her heart/soul) and the angel wings (symbolic of her role as a saviour) she is completely (but tastefully) naked.

Usagi visually and quite literally is more vulnerable  than she’s ever been, even more so than on her first night as Sailor Moon.

And yet this is Usagi at her actual most powerful.

It is her distilled to her absolute essence as a person, all other trappings removed. She’d just one person showing another they will categorically not harm them, that they bear them no malice and they have nothing to hide. That openness and compassion is what ultimately enables her to connect to the good within Galaxia and pull her away from the darkness that had corrupted her.

Usagi in this moment completely fulfilled her character arc.

·      In the Dark Kingdom arc Usagi destroys (or seals away depending upon your POV) Beryl/Metalia.

·      In the Hell Tree arc, Usagi resolves the over all plot via a healing technique (although it is functionally similar to a destructive attack). However, that only happens because the Hell Tree both instructs Usagi to do that and because it lets her. It is the equivalent of a sickly doctor instructing a nurse on what to do to make them better. The nurse might have the power but their agency as a healer is limited.

·      In the Black Moon arc, Usagi, with help, destroys Wiseman/Death Phantom. 

·      In the Death Busters arc, Usagi does save Hotaru and ‘purify’ her. However, like the Hell Tree, that was something Hotaru wanted. Additionally, her purification functioned as a way to heal the body of someone sick and who wanted to sacrifice themselves, not someone actually evil. The evil in question was Pharaoh 90 and it is presumed that Usagi destroyed him (although it might’ve been Hotaru or the pair of them together). 

·      Forgive me for skipping the Dead Moon Circus arc as Chibiusa is the real protagonist there, and Usagi’s role is chiefly as a rescuer. It therefore doesn’t really apply, although the Nehelenia mini-arc from Stars is a different story. There, Usagi was a healer again, but she did it with the help of her loved ones and with the aid of her Tiare device. Nevertheless, we can see by this point Usagi’s capacity as a healer heroine had been gradually growing until we get to the battle with Galaxia.

By the end of series, Usagi has successfully healed Galaxia and it is neither with the aid of her comrades, nor with the power of a weapon or device, nor with any instructions from her ‘patient’ or any other third party.

Additionally, Galaxia (unlike Hotaru) wasn’t someone’s who was saved from a noble self-sacrifice or had a physical ailment that needs to be addressed. In Galaxia’s case, her very soul had lost it’s way and become corrupted. She had lost who she was supposed to be and her purpose in life had been perverted.****

When combined with how powerful Galaxia always was, how Chaos and the Star Seeds empowered her further, Usagi’s victory here cannot be understated.

Her ‘patient’ was more powerful than all her other adversaries, was in need of more healing than her other ‘patients’ and was more resistant to being healed. Not to mention, since she’d directly murdered her beloved friends (and indirectly aborted her future daughter), Usagi would’ve been forgiven for not  even trying to salvage Galaxia 

And yet, with no weapons, no backup and just the power of her heart and soul basically, Usagi succeeded. 

After Stars the idea that Usagi could heal the entire planet after a global catastrophe and reshape it into a fairy tale crystalline utopia was all too believable.

What’s healing one planet when her ability to empathise had already healed a whole galaxy?

Who needs a tiara to reduce evil to dust when you can simply convince evil to be good?

*This is arguably symbolized by baby Hotaru’s vision of NQS transforming into Eternal Sailor Moon in episode 1 of Stars.

In fact, we might argue that a low-key subplot running through all of Stars (both the Nehelenia and Galaxia portions of it) is gradually transitioning Usagi closer to the person she is destined to become as Neo-Queen Serenity, hence why the first episode features the most explicit reference to her fate as Queen since R. 

**Personally I am an atheist, but nevertheless I and others like me can grasp why  deities in most major religions through history weren’t simply capable of mass scale destruction, but also of essentially manipulating reality to create  things too.

By that same token, it’s little surprise that perhaps the widest spread religious figure in history was Jesus Christ who rarely (if ever) engaged in aggression or destructive acts, predominantly employing divine healing powers.

I suspect the attraction of such figures to human beings lies in the fact that on some level we know that, given the right time and resources, we mere mortals would be capable of destroying anything. Given time it’s all but certain we will develop the technology to even destroy planetary bodies. On the flipside, I think we also intuitively grasp that  reversing  such damage, of reattaching a limb, of stanching bleeding, etc, is far more difficult if not impossible. Hence we attributed the ability to do such things to larger than life Divine Entities.

*** Now that I think of it, it’s also poignant that Usagi tries and fails to defeat Galaxia with a sword when we take Sailor Uranus into consideration. 

Uranus is of course associated with her weapon, the Space Sword and, like Usagi, tried and failed to use such a weapon against Galaxia.

Giving Uranus a sword is symbolically appropriate given her role as the leader of the more aggressive branch of the Sailor Team. Having her fail against Galaxia and Usagi consequently fail by in some way ‘mimicking her tactics’ is equally symbolically appropriate. Not only because of their ideological conflict in Sailor Moon S but also their tensions in Sailor Stars itself. In both situations Usagi’s more open, less aggressive, ideology was ultimately proven correct. 

Thus in using a sword against Galaxia it represented how Usagi was always doomed to fail by taking the aggressive/destructive route and how she was arguably not being true to herself in that moment. 

****It’s not to dissimilar to Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker now that I think about it. 

[awideplace]

🕯 I was searching for a photo in my emails and I happened upon long email threads with a man who pursued me in the past. I forgot. It was 6-7 years ago, and it was so interesting to read our correspondence. He was a pilot in Northern California, I was working from home for a major company down here in Southern California and G was young. He wanted to be with me, wanted to provide for us, and be G’s “dad”. We knew each other in person, but he pursued me after our going out on a date and I trailed off. He wrote me again in the future, wanting to pursue me further. I told him my honest feelings in regards to everything; I wasn’t the woman for him. I could see him with someone else, I wasn’t convinced I was his type. Within a year of this he married the kind of woman I told him that I could see him with. They now run a family farm in the Pacific Northwest.

Before him there was another who actually asked my parent’s permission to court me. He adored me, and I was so flattered and shocked at being adored, it was soothing after all of the pain. He was so kind, so gentle, so patient, and loved Jesus more than I’ve seen in a man. I wanted to reciprocate, but I couldn’t. It broke my heart I couldn’t care for him like he cared about me. I told him the truth. I didn’t feel the same way. He is married now and lives in the mountains in California with his wife and three children.

I’m glad these didn’t work out. Not because these weren’t “good” men, but because I knew they weren’t for me and vice versa. There was zero peace in my heart about being with them. The thing is, is that now I see all of these men (and others) now married and I’m not. Yet I have peace, and rest. Because I was honest with them. I didn’t want to marry just because I was lonely, a single mother, desiring financial help, or because I was flattered at the pursuit. I wanted to marry because I asked the Lord and he made it evident “this is him.” I’ve never had that feeling with confidence about a man pursuing me ever. I don’t think I’ve ever known love, speaking of relationally with men. I truly do not believe I have been loved, in the way of loving and being loved by a man. That’s a foreign planet for me.

I’m grateful I’ve been honest with men, I don’t play games. I’m so grateful I honor God, myself, and others to the point of being lovingly truthful about my heart or if I reciprocate relationship affection. I’m so grateful for honesty. I desire more people to be honest with me, especially men. I’ve had men also string me along - use me for how I make them feel to flirt with or for physical affection. These men are not being honorable, because we shouldn’t use each other, but be honest, loving, kind. Expressing our hearts with honor and the well-being of the other in mind. Not “what can I get from this woman” for ego or physical desire. But relating from honor. Love. Because we are each made in the image of God (imageo dei), and worthy of kindness and honor.

I’ll probably delete this later - sometimes I just post “personal” posts briefly.

I’m grateful looking back at all of the men I’ve been interested in the last twelve years - there has been five of them - that have not worked out. One was awful (physically he would hurt me at times), another was immature (younger than me - my first time with someone younger), yet another was not firm in his beliefs and ended up marrying a staunch unbeliever, another I saw again this year and I was just so shocked and embarrassed I ever liked him (this sounds terrible I know - he’s not a Christian, and also I just have zero attraction whatsoever to him, I just felt safe with him), and finally, the most recent and last one. I won’t go into detail about him.

For the time God says wait, trust, be still. Time is going by though, and every now and then I get concerned, but then it’s almost silly. I would rather wait and marry the man God has for me and know love for the first time ever (!!!) than just freak out and make unwise choices. I’d rather die single, and have lived with Christ and obeying him in relationships. I cannot choose to live apart from God’s peace in this area. I can’t live rushed, and I believe God is being so gracious to me in this. I really believe he is caring for me as I obey him - he has me covered, and he knows what’s best. Who is best, if there is any. God knows. I truly do not. There is no one I know now that I could marry. It’s all empty here. I don’t know why. But in the quiet there is a stillness and in that stillness there is a deep peace, despite the emotions that sometimes get ruffled. The underlying foundation is peace.

Super long, and I wrote this off the cuff at 12:30a for 40 minutes while lying in bed after reading the emails. Thanking God for all that has not worked out, I see why I had no peace. And I believe in the very near future I’ll see again very much so why I had no peace.

[winterbuckytho]

When Is It Over

After being missing for 48 hours, Tony Stark comes into the restaurant and is escorted to the table James Rhodey was waiting for him at. Rhodey, always a patient and understanding man wanted to give Tony an absolute earful for disappearing like that. He and Happy had been just about to raise alarms when he got the text "I'm a genius and you know that but I had major breakthrough and can't talk to anyone else. You will never guess who's bed I woke up in."

Rhodey guessed wrong 17 times then finally gave up by texting back. "Uuuugh, I hate it when you’re right! Just tell me!!"

"One Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, the Manchurian Candidate himself. TMI, but we have no boundaries, he's an awesome lay btw. I'll send you info for a meetup and brunch. I need so much coffee."

And so not long after the two sat in a little known upscale place seated at a privately reserved table on a terrace over looking the sea, Rhodey asking how in the flying fuck Tony had ended up at a dick appointment in Wakanda.

"It all started a while ago but what happened last night started the night before last. I kept having this nightmare where Barnes is bearing down on Pepper and my reactor is busted and I'm trapped in my suit, pinned to the floor like a butterfly to a card by one of those creepy bug collectors. Pepper is right there but I can never convince him to not hurt her. Sometimes it's you or Steve and I guess because I watched footage of him before he started remembering stuff... God, the way he gunned after Steve, like a pretty Ultron. And I fought him myself in trigger mode, Christ, his eyes were colder than dry ice and emptier than Bruce's apartment right now... I had it again and sitting up after with a glass of warm milk thought about that exposure therapy thing, what is it called?"

"Systemic Desensitization?"

"Right, anyway, so I called King T'challa and it turned out Barnes was awake. So i asked to see him, explain what I want to try and do because I already have 15 flavors of PTSD, I didn't need a special designer one and reassured nothing like vengeance was even remotely on my mind. I just needed to see him outside the context I had him in before in Siberia so he agreed to have me."

"Whoa, that's a stupid idea. So what happened?"

"Well, he has a convalescent suite in the mines, most secure place on the planet I bet. From himself and from others. I went straight there and was on his doorstep at 2 the next morning. He was still willing to see me and the Princess seems to have figured out how to end his following through with the programming, so he opened the door and..."

--

"Stark, I understand I never even knew you and I fucked up half your lif-" Bucky Barnes began.

“I don't wanna talk about that Barnes..." Tony replied.

"Then what do you want?" Buck asked shaking his head a little at a loss as to why Stark would need to see him this bad. A cold fright made his belly feel full of squirming eels as he wondered what in God's name he had done now. 'Th-they say I'm alright now but before... I hardly remember being brought to Wakanda, everything after my arm was fried off... is just a smudge of awareness. Did I hurt him bad that day, he looks okay but what did I do..?'

"I... fuck, okay, this is one of those times where I am doing a crazy rich person thing, you know. I keep having these dreams... "I remember them all." you said. That's what you said and ever since I feel like I need to face you in a.... I don't know... unfiltered way? I need to know you're not going to... hurt me or Pepper or Steve or Rh-" 

Bucky stood in the doorway his blood chilled to slush in his veins. What did Tony want him to do? Act out some death wish? 'Absolutely fucking not. I will eat a gun before I endanger anyone else. I can't, I literally can't let it happen, even by the most unpredictable accident...' "Tony, what is it you mean for me to do? I'm not gonna fight you, I-i can't, I-"

"Shit, Sarge..."Tony says and aggressively goes in for a kiss. A hard confused long and breathless kiss.

--

"Oh my God, you did not!" Rhodey exclaimed his incredulity impossible to contain.

"You going keep talking or are you going eat your lunch and let me finish?" Stark says a little miffed even if he wouldn't say that word unironically.

"I thought you were in like, regular killer robots trouble, but this takes the cake, please do go on. I want every sordid detail. I can't tell if I'm more horrified at your taste in guys or frustrated with you for not telling me about what you were going to do."

--

'Oh god my heart is racing faster than that time it almost got its promised dose of metal shards before I could get the other reactor in. I might throw up. But uh yeah, I'll admit it. I'm definitely getting hard. Is this it? Is this what I need to make myself understand he's not a killing machine anymore? For an engineering genius I'm so fuckin' stupid... O-oh ah, is- is he... holding me?' Tony's mind went from one thought to the next so rapidly it almost made him dizzy. But as Barnes wrapped an arm gently about his waist and pulled him closer over the threshold and into his suite, his initial fright at his own actions became quieter and slowed till he was thinking nothing and only letting the electricity of it flow as neurons and synapses and receptors did their work. He could feel Barnes' lips tremble slightly against his as they kissed, cold metal under his palm as it slid up over the smooth curves up to the other man's shoulder, his need now becoming clearer by the second.

Bucky didn't understand what was happening and in ordinary circumstances would like to know and love someone before getting closer this way. It felt wrong at first and he was so hypervigilant he was half convinced his body was acting on its own to attack Tony until the man moaned deeply in to the kiss, the sound of it long and greatly pleased. Barnes pulled away a moment looking at Stark. "What is this? I... I’m afraid I don't understand..."

"You and me both, pal. Oh no, Steve is rubbing off on me.... But yes... I'm figuring something out. Can we go to your room?"

"I- uhm sure it's... uhm... on the left. End of the hall."

"Come on, I can make it fast."

"I... had no idea you..."

"Again. You and me both, pal. Turned out my heterosexual philandering was me performing gender conformity and trying to hide from anything real about myself. I think I swing both ways. Or multiple ways at once." Tony said leading to the bedroom. He took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair by a small table in the room and sat on the edge of the bed. 

Buck sat next to him and said "Ah. Well, you're not alone in that. If I had a nickel for all the girls I had hanging on my arm while hiding the truth..."

"Wow. I mean... The length Steve was going for you... I didn't realize it was a two way street."

"Yeah, I'm fuckin' stupid for that boy. All those years... and then the first one I see his face again, the curse was lifted. Kinda like a fairytale." Barnes laughed.

Tony laughed too. A genuine happy sound he had been too anxious to properly make the last few months. Hearing Bucky say it like that, he knew they both loved the same things in their favorite star spangled dumbass. Another layer of fear melted and he grasped Bucky's metal hand. "Is this going to hurt what you got going for him? I can stop, find some other way to work through how I'm feeling about everything..."

"No, its okay. I...think I understand what you need."

"Oh yeah?"

"We were never properly introduced and until you know who a man is, he will always be a stranger."

'I'll be damned... that's kinda exactly what this is. I need to know him. I need to know him inside out like how I know Steve. It took almost dying together a few times for us to become friends. This is the express route for me and Barnes.' Stark sniffed and nodded then said abruptly, "But first I... I’m sorry. I'm sorry things went down how they did for you, I'm sorry for reacting that way when I found out our... connection. I- well I was going to say I'm sorry I blew your arm off but I'll say it when I'm sure I won't be lying. I had seen you kill a dozen people that day and I'm still scared shitless of you."

The room was quiet a moment as Bucky carefully gathered so he wouldn't burst in to tears before he could say it. "I'm sorry as well. I never got to apologize to any of their families before. So thank you too."

"Hey." Stark said quietly. He was beginning to truly feel something about Bucky other then that fever pitch fear. The time Barnes had come within a second of shooting Tony straight in the god-damned face came back to him but he didn't see that man in this moment. "I want to believe you so, come on. Make love to me and show me who you really are."

--

"Oo, you was being all smooth with it, okay, alright, Mr Stark, turn the swag on..." Said Rhodey.

"One of these days, Alice, right to the moon." Replied Tony.

"Ha ha, okay, I'll stop. One of these days...”

--

Barnes nodded and turned further to Tony reaching a hand out. He used the side of his index finger to take Stark's chin and tug lightly guiding him towards himself and beginning to kiss him in soft slow motions. "Do you want me to take charge a bit? Because I don't think I want you to make it fast."

"Hah~ I uh... don't mind, bottom, top as long as you're comfortable."

"How bout we work it both ways. I mean sure I'm big and can probably punch out that whole wall down in less than 3 minutes but I have a... softer side too."

"Being little spoon is nice..." Stark replied with a small smile pulling his tie vest and shirt off. He was endeared further to see Bucky blushing in the low warm light.

Bucky pressed him back on the bed and rolled half on top of him. His was so effortlessly strong his weight could barely be felt as he held himself from simply pinning Tony to the bed under him. Heat began to flush his body as the gentle kisses they traded became more passionate and hungry. A thrum of pleasure pulses outward from his pelvis and Bucky groaned in the ecstasy of it thinking 'Guess it's like riding a bicycle... it's all coming back to me now, huh?...uhn~' while his hips rocked forward pressing down against Tony.

It was a small gesture but so erotically charged, Stark's breath caught in his chest a second then he mirrored it with his hand sliding downwards to explore the stiffening shaft pressed against his thigh. He squeezed and stroked it marveling it a little for it's size and immediately wondering how much of Bucky's size was from the serum. He suspected from the way Barnes handled himself though that it was all Buck. He pulled the waist band of Bucky's pajama bottoms out and down exposing him. Tony's hand wrapped around it and he watched as Bucky's eyelids lowered and he breathed quietly "Oh God hahn..." pecs heaving as he gasped. Stark bit into his lower lip surprised how a sight like that could turn him on and quiet still more of his fear of the man. It humanized Barnes instantly like nothing else he could have made in the Avengers tower r & d labs.

Bucky's erection throbbed, Tony's hand feeling cool on it's hot skin as he took in the sensation just made it even more captivating but he paused a moment before raising himself to stand and pulled his pants off. As he did Tony took off the remainder of his clothes as well and soon they reconvened on the bed together. Tony waited for Buck to lie down then took a position that would serve well for oral. He was surprised to be further guided gently to straddle Barnes' face. They each used oral to the pleasure of the other and it was not long before the room was full of moans and sighs.

Barnes could never explain it but serving someone willingly in this scenario nearly made his mind melt with the extreme arousal building inside him. He moans softly his tongue massaging and circling sensitive skin, probing flicking at the entrance. He can't help how he is drawn in to the movement both soothed and excited by it, all the while feeling heat and soft textures and slick saliva slowly slathered up and down his length paired with a delicious friction he couldn't withstand in stoicism. His hips jerk and thrust up and his arms wrap around Stark's thighs pulling him down against his now wildly thrashing tongue.

"O-ohn hah! Mmm~!" Tony's breathes come fast and eratic as he tries to not be distracted from the task at hand. Which was enjoying Barnes' response to his sucking and licking of the man's cock. He is becoming increasingly intensely aroused to the point of loosing much of his control leaving him trembling and squirming as he struggles to keep his tongue moving. Finally unable to do much else he accepts Bucky's entire length in to his mouth allowing him to thrust himself in and out while Stark groans in deep pleasure at the many sensations.

Bucky came to a point where it wasn't enough and he needed to see his lovers face as well as become the more active party. He slowed his licking and paused one hand grasping Tony's arm and pulling him up to head of the bed French kissing him and enjoying the feel of their tongues sliding about one another. After a few moments they worked into missionary position. Bucky licked his fingers, massaged and stretching Stark making the man whimper and gasp pressing his head back into the pillows. Then he began to penetrate working his tip in slowly, setting urgency aside for a bit to be sure they were both on the same page.

Tony, experiencing great pleasure eagerly thrust his hips up as his calves rested on Barnes' broad strong shoulders. "I-it's okay, I'm experienced, you can go harder, go faster. Oh god~!" Even as he did it he was having a strong sense of sorrow derived from the way Bucky handled his body, with such a care, terrified of himself of hurting anyone. He knew this was because of who he was as a person and not just special treatment. Hydra had commited a deep sin against humanity by making such a man kill against his own will and every minute with the former Sargent made Stark's heart break for him, drowning the animal fear right out with the deep kindness that had stayed true in Barnes’ heart all these years.

Buck nodded now breathing heavily and started to thrust deep and hard at an almost relentless pace, grunting in a low tone his eyes scanning Tony's face drinking the pleasure he caused, this somehow just as pleasing as the direct stimulation of the sex itself. But still he maintained responsibility for both of their well being and carefully examined himself to be sure he could warn if he lost control of himself somehow. His ardor rose and swelled around him and to this he was perfectly happy to lose himself in the moment, his breaths harsh and fast as his powerful thighs and hips worked to thrust and his hands rose to lace his finger with those of both of Tony's hands holding them pressed to the pillow beside Stark's head on either side, Bucky's mouth exploring licking kissing Tony's throat and chest.

"That's it , oh don't stop, don't stop huhn!! Ah aaah hah~!" Tony groaned as he chased his orgasm. 

"Yeah? Ohn~ come on, come with me, come on baby..." Bucky told him between gasps and moans speaking softly into his ear.

It was one of the best climaxes he had ever had and he supposed it had something to do with how emotional the sex had been paired with Barnes commanding him to do it. 'I didn't even feel submissive till he took the reigns, and that's kinda how I like it.' Tony thought. Panting he said "You really must have given those girls a run for their money. And Steve?"

Bucky paused and smiled. It was honestly one of the most beautiful smiles Tony had ever seen. "Actually, I'd bet my left arm he's still a virgin. He's always so focused, no one ever wonders. They think a man like that would have been taken such a thing the first time it presented itself but our history together says otherwise. His birthday wasn't always July 4th, you know?"

"Meaning he didn't always appear to be the reserved type, a no kiss and tell sort of guy. Oh my God, that explains so much. Does he think it's too dirty or something?"

"Nah. He just wants the moment to be right. And it never can be with the world at stake every other day. He says to me, 'We can move to the country or the sea shore and no one will bat a lash. The ring can be made of the perfect materials for your hand and we can just settle down, when the fight is over’. He doesn't know... living is always going to be a fight. There's always a fight. It doesn't end until your heart stops. So he'll always be waiting for the right time and I'll always be waiting for him." His gaze was a bit melancholic, a bit proud and a lot yearning. His crystalline cerulean eyes swam with tears a moment before he closed them and leaned in to kiss Tony. 

Tony wrapped his arms around Bucky and now he felt more real than ever, there was no monster here. Just a man who was having the most rotten luck in history. And he still fought for more each day. 'Men like them really are cut from different cloth. I always thought my dad was just being a righteous asshole when he said that but no...'

--

"And I'm cured! Turns out the right guy can heal you with magic peen." Strk said sarcastically.

"Pft, really?"

"Well, of that one thing. My mind is still fucked pretty hard from everything else though. But I'm glad it's finally laid to rest. Dad would have wanted it that way. Mom would forgive him, why shouldn't I?”

"Jesus, did you just mature before my very eyes?" Rhodey said with a smile reaching out to put a hand on Tony's shoulder with a squeeze.

"Yep. Let's hope I don't have to fuck everyone who has wronged me to finally put my suit away." Tony sassed back patting the hand of his best friend.

He hoped that day would come though. That Steve and Nat and Bruce and Vision and Wanda and Sam and Clint could set down their suits and anger issues and come home so they could all be worth the wait together.

[spinnerofrubies]

Prayer for God’s Victory

In the name of God I AM THAT I AM, I proclaim that I AM the Golden Victorious Light shining from the heart of God that refuses to accept any concept of limitation. I AM the powerful radiation of God’s Victory that illumines every beating heart on earth, that awakens peoples of every walk of life from the lethargy and sleep of the ages to a vital, breathing awareness of the Wisdom of God.

I AM the Golden Victory Flame,

I AM the Spirit if Victory incarnate

I AM the Light of Victory for the whole earth and I refuse to engage my energies in anything less than Perfection.

I AM THAT I AM VICTORY in the cloven tongs of fire! I claim the Spirit of Victory to descend upon all children of God!

I AM God-Victorious for I AM God’s Victory this day!

All darkness around me is swallowed up by the Golden Light of Victory and it is no more because

Victory is the Power of Love,

Victory is the absolute Presence of God in every nation, in every community, in every family, in every being, in every corner of the earth and in every part of the whole Creation.

I AM drawing my soul into the center of the living Christ.

And I AM ONE with the Living Flame of God and I dare to be different, I dare to be outspoken, I dare to challenge the forces that oppose the Victory of the Christ in the hearts of all Sons and Daughters of God.

In the name of God I AM THAT I AM, I demand the reversing of all negatively qualified energy directed against me or the Light for which I stand. In the name of Almighty God I call for the full power of the Sacred Fire from the Heart of the Cosmic Christ to blaze through my entire consciousness, being and world and to burn out of my four lower bodies ( physical , emotional , mental and memory body ) all that is not of the Light.

I call to the shining Golden Ray of God to resurrect the memory and the pattern of my Divine Plan and to activate the full consciousness of the Christ within me that was ordained by God at the beginning of my individualised manifestation.

I call for the Light of ten thousand suns and the full - gathered momentum of Victory to descend into my consciousness now and may the Spirit of Victory charge my soul with invincible sense of overcoming of every obstacle in my life on my way to the fulfilment of my reason for being.

And now I stand with the legions of Victory on this planet earth. I stand as an emissary of the Flame of God, as the representative of Mighty Victory. I stand on earth by the authority of Jesus Christ, and the Mother of the World, by the authority of the Elohim of God and all hierarchy of Light. I AM an angel going before the mighty Archangels and proclaiming their word and their power wherever I AM.

I AM the Christ Chalice full with the Spirit of Victory and I pray that the Kingdom of God shall come into manifestation, that the Will of God shall be the guiding Light of my service and that the Light of our Lord shall prevail in the hearts of all mankind.

Amen.

The highest form of Divine blessing, dear one, that is and was and ever shall be in this Universe is the blessing by the rays of God’s Victory and I, the Golden Angel of Victory, charge you today with these miraculous rays. May you be free, may you be open, may you be able to accept these Victorious Golden rays of Divine Perfection wherever you are on your Path.

I bless you now, my child, with the mighty Golden ray of Victory that touches your heart flame right now. Some portion of my angelic sense of Victory is anchored now in your consciousness and this will help you to overcome many difficult situations in your life without loosing your inner peace and harmony. My sense of Victory is within you, beloved. But let us never forget that a true source of our Victory Flame is within the heart of Almighty God.

Beloved heart, let no one convince you to accept the lie that you are not born to win, to shine and to overcome any human limitation but you are born to struggle and to survive this prison, as some people here on earth see this human life.

You are born to win, my child, and this Victory is your ultimate destiny that our Lord has designed for your soul from the beginning.

With this empowering prophecy I leave you now, blessed child of God. Just remember that you are never alone, because our Lord is always here where you are and one with God is a majority!

ALWAYS VICTORY, dear one, ALWAYS VICTORY!

[thecomicsnexus]

CAMELOT 3000 (PART 3 OF 3) DECEMBER 1982 - APRIL 1985 BY MIKE W. BARR, BRIAN BOLLAND, BRUCE D. PATTERSON, DICK GIORDANO, TERRY AUSTIN AND TATJANA WOOD

SYNOPSIS (CHAPTERS 9 TO 12)

King Arthur tells Tom the story of the Holy Grail. It is supposed to perform miracles, for it was twice associated with Jesus Christ. First the holy communion, and then, in the moment of his Crucifixion, someone used to to collect his blood. Percival prays to get a hint of where it is and he finds out it was in Glastonbury Tor after all. To prevent Morgan from learning this secret, all of them start wearing a cloaking charm.

Morgan reveals to Jordan his role. She makes him remember his old life, a baby, being drown by King Arthur (Arthur thought a son of his would pose a threat to his throne). Jordan remembers he was Modred.

In New Camelot, Arthur divides the group, one will search for the Holy Grail and the other one will search for Merlin.

Percival finds the guardian of the Holy Grail and discovers that he has holy blood. With the grail in his hands, he saves Tom’s life, but then transfigures, leaving Lancelot as the guardian of the Grail. In just a few panels he loses the Grail to the enemy. Jordan, in possession of the Grail, starts giving Morgan orders.

Jordan makes an armor with the Grail embedded in it. He is now immune to everything. He starts killing all the world leaders.

Arthur and some knights travel to the tenth planet in a spaceship. Lancelot, Guinevere and Tom got to the nuclear plant to ask the lady in the lake (Elaine) to send them to the tenth planet. Everyone is on the tenth planet now.

On Earth, King Arthur is considered a traitor. The propaganda machine is blaming him for the murder of the world leaders. Isolde finds out that Jordan is allied to Morgan La Fey and sens a message to the spaceship. When Tom sees the message, he sees that Isolde sends her love to Tristan. He burns that part of the message. Arthur and the knights, led by the women, are sent to meet the queen of the alien race. They make an alliance to free them in exchange of soldiers.

Tristan once again has to deal with McAllister, this time she learns that only Morgan Le Fay’s magic can kill him, she uses the talisman against him (the one that is supposed to make her go back to being a man). Now with it destroyed, she wants to end her life, but Tom tries to convince her that being a woman cannot be “that bad”.

The knights use the ship as a battering ram. In the middle of the fight, Galahad sacrifices, blowing up the ship, to make an entrance to the castle. Arthur faces Jordan and Lancelot tells him that the holy armor is incompatible with Merlin (son of the devil), he then pushes Jordan into Merlin and this ends his life.

Morgan Le Fay tries one more attack. Merlin transports the rest home, while he takes care of Morgan. He detonates a neutron bomb, sacrificing himself to put an end to Morgan.

Back on Earth. Tristan and Isolde try to rekindle their love. Tristan starts learning how to love her in this form (and she finally seems happy).

Guinevere is pregnant (they do not know if it’s Arthur’s or Lancelot, both of them hope it’s Arthur’s).

Some time later, we see an alien escaping bad guys, he finds a sword in the stone and the cycle begins anew.

CONTEXT (FROM WIKIPEDIA)

Barr came up with the concept of Camelot 3000 in approximately 1975, having been inspired by a college course he took in Arthurian literature. He submitted the proposal to DC Comics several years later, only to have it rejected. He then submitted it to Marvel Comics, where it was accepted for serialized publication in one of their black-and-white magazines, but for unknown reasons the project did not get off the ground at this point. The Camelot 3000 concept was resubmitted to DC the following year, and this time was accepted. DC decided to run it as a maxi-series. Barr enlisted Dr. Sally Slocum, the teacher of the course which first inspired Camelot 3000, as a creative consultant for the series.

Camelot 3000 was British artist Bolland's first major work in the USA. At the time the logistics of transatlantic collaborations were difficult, and the series was created using the full script method in part because it was the easiest way for Barr and Bolland to work together while an ocean separated them. This was also the first time that Bolland's work was inked regularly by someone other than himself. Bolland was not comfortable with this and made his pencils very heavily detailed in order to leave the inker as little room for creative reinterpretation as possible. This, combined with Bolland's personal goal to top himself with each new issue, made it difficult for him to keep up with the series's monthly schedule, and the last several issues were late. Barr recounted that Bolland spent nine months drawing the final issue.

Barr originally had the role of Tom Prentice filled by a girl, but editor Len Wein strongly felt that the character should be a boy. Though the series's exploration of gender identity themes (and presumed homosexuality) was published without opposition from DC's editorial staff, Barr recalled that Camelot 3000 received a number of letters from children who were confused and/or upset by this content.

The series also briefly experimented with reproducing art directly from the pencils (i.e. without inking). However, printing techniques at the time were still relatively primitive, and Bolland found that creating pencil art which could be reproduced by the printers was more work than actually inking it. As such, only two pages (specifically, the first two pages of issue #2) were produced in this manner.

REVIEW

As you may have imagined, this story doesn’t take place in the DCU (there is, however, an Arthur, Morgan and Merlin in the DCU). I would have to say that this maxi-series was ground-breaking. Not only because it was part of the “British invasion”, it was the first of its kind and proved it was possible, and it also explored themes like gender identity. Some people have problems with it, and I can understand it (as Tristan ends up accepting her forced gender). But you also have to see that Tristan wasn’t a good man before. I think in the context of this story it’s ok. Also have in mind two things, it was 1982, and this man, as well as all the knights, belonged to the Middle Ages.

As an extension of the Arthurian legend, you just have to accept this is a sci-fi comic-book. But it has very interesting points of view. I think the moment Arthur is flying over England and finally gets to see it from space is a very powerful scene.

I think it’s a great story and YOU SHOULD READ IT. I think it would also work well as a movie, but I don’t think the world is ready for something like this. It would probably flop.

Bolland’s art is obviously the best of this series. I cannot imagine it being so important without him. Of course, the last issues took years to complete, let’s say I am happy to have all issues at my disposal now, but at the time it was probably very annoying for readers (kind of like how we feel waiting for the last issues of Doomsday Clock).

There are some things that are barely touched in the story. Arthur at some point killed a lot of babies... that’s not how a savior acts. These characters are not perfect, it is implied that there was a lot of raping and adultery in their previous lives (it’s a bit like Game of Thrones).

Sure, there are some things that don’t make sense. Like the ship getting to the tenth panel very fast because it travels at the speed of light (even at the speed of light it would take years to get there).

But the story keeps twisting and surprising you. I read this story for the first time five years ago, and I forgot almost everything... but Tristan’s story. I think that is the conflict that you will remember for the rest of your life.

I give this series a score of 10

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #206

“have you ever wished for death and prayed all night for your last breath?”

Do you always read the book before you see a movie based on a book? No. When you’re out with friends, do they ever encourage you to spend money you should be saving? 1.) I don't hang out w/ anyone now, 2.) but even when I did, they all knew I didn't make money. Is there anything you’re trying to save up money for? What? Perpetually tattoos, I want a PS4 super badly to play a novel of games I've been dying to play (SotC and Spyro trilogy remaster, I'm @ing you so hard), I need a car soon as I plan to at least try and get my license in the near future, I'd love to always have enough to immediately go to Sara's in case of an emergency, a trip to South Africa... but those are gonna take a good while to complete. I have my priorities straight for when I get a job. Have you ever watched a movie you didn’t really want to see just because a friend asked you to? Yeah. Did you end up liking the movie, anyway? There's been many cases of the above situation, so I'm sure in some instances I have. Heard any great songs for the first time lately? What songs? Hmmm, quite a number. "Radio" by Rammstein is great, and I love "bury a friend" and "bad guy" by Billie Eilish. What is your favorite urban legend? m o t h m a n and the joysey devil. Probably top two. GAH I love so many though????????????? Like Skinwalkers?????????????? And WENDIGOS????????? Have you seen all the cool shit?????????????? Do you remember the last nightmare you had? What was it? No, thankfully. Have you ever hopped on any bandwagons? HAHA. Freshman year, high school... I "liked" screamo or alternative-type bands I'd barely ever listened to or even enjoyed to fit in with the emos aldkjfalkwejr. Are you an elitist (even a little bit) when it comes to anything? What? Definitely not a complete one, but I can get pretty annoyed if in WoW we're in a heroic dungeon and people don't know the mechanics you should have already learned + read new ones that're right there in the goddamn journal laksdjfaoweir and then some people just totally ignore your advice and alskdjfwleiruwqoeif x2. Then again I've been that confused asshole in a couple raiding situations BUT LOOK they're harder and I had too much to catch up on okay. Still no excuse by WHATEVER. Have elitists on a fansite ever intimidated or talked down to you? I don't believe so. Is there anything you swear you will never do again? A few things with certainty. How late do you usually stay awake? I can literally go to bed as early as 7 to as late as 11 or rarely later. I do NOT have a schedule. Started months ago, and at first it frustrated and stressed me out quite a bit, but by now, I've just accepted it for me. Do you have pets? If so, how did you choose their names? Teddy: sister named him, but I'm sure it was the "cute as a teddy bear" type thing; Bentley: no clue; Roman: it sounded majestic, cats are majestic; Venus: pretty, and her coloration is similar to the planet; Kaiju: totally badass for an iguana that's gonna grow to be a big 'ole scaly boy; and Mitsu: I had a theme of giving my rats cutesy "M" names. Do you ever buy special treats for your pets? Occasionally. Is just being fond of something enough, or does it take more than that to be a ‘real fan’? Did a middle school student write this? If you're pretty fond of something, there you go, you're a fan. Sure, some are more intense, but that doesn't make the more casual ones not "real." What type of fabric is most comfortable for clothing? Idk, I don't pay attention. If you wear one – bras with or without a wire? Christ, without. If you wear one – are you able to find cute bras in your size? HA. No. It is RARE I'll find a cute one, and that's always only online. Make pretty ones for plus-sized women a normal find, jfc. Idk why, but I am very picky with bras. Like good fucking luck seeing me without a shirt, so like,,,, why do I bother????? What length do you like your shorts to be? UM you will NOT see me in SHORTS. Have you ever cut off jeans or other pants and made them into shorts? Perhaps Mom has when I was a kid? But I have no memory of this ever happening. Have you cut the sleeves out of T-shirts to make tank tops? I don't think so. Have you ever modified a piece of clothing and hated how it turned out? ^ What was the last disappointing movie you saw? Ah jeez, what's the last time I even watched one. Idk. What was the last disappointing book you read? And I haven't read a book in even longer. Is there anything you’re really excited about? JOB. OPPORTUNITIES. Do you ever watch compilation videos? Of what? Vines, like shit dude. I can go on massive binges. What was the last thing you rolled your eyes about? I don't recall. What would you consider the greatest song ever recorded? Why? Yeesh, that's a big thing to decide. I recently discovered "A Reason to Fight" by Disturbed though, and it is. Incredible. Just read the lyrics to refresh my mind, and yeah, goosebumps. Do you like Hellboy? If so, do you prefer the old movies or the new one? Never seen any. Favorite Disney character who isn’t royalty? Dory, probably. But man, there's too many to choose from. Last thing you purchased just for fun? *shrugs* Do you even like behind-the-scenes stuff or does it ruin the magic for you? IF I'm real into the product, I love that stuff!! I've seen like every little BTS Silent Hill thing there is, probably, multiple hours' worth. What is your favorite thing about Mac computers? They're small and lightweight. What is your favorite thing about PCs? They generally hold much more memory. What are some errands you need to run soon? I don't have "errands" yet. Have your parents ever tried to convince people there was something wrong with you, when their “diagnosis” wasn’t accurate? No. List 3 of your best memories, times you wish you could go back and repeat. In no order, just as they come to me: 1.) First hug with Sara when we met at the airport; 2.) THE LOOK ON SARA'S FACE when she saw me in her room on her birthday (probably fave memory of all time, actually); 3.) seeing meerkats for the first time at the zoo. Ohhhh or maybe the true realization I was happy without Jason. But idk, that was SUCH a gradual process where I didn't feel ecstasy in like one moment. What color was your high school graduation gown? Ew, it was this obnoxious red. The majority apparently voted for it, while I was on the navy team. Are your parents’ dreams for your life different than your own? Mom's pretty dead-set on me being a vet, but she doesn't try to push me into it or anything. I know she just wants happiness for me. I haven't got a clue about Dad. Have your dreams for your life changed? Of course. What are your dreams now? HAPPY, stable job that I thoroughly enjoy, well-off financially (I don't aim to be rich, just "safe," you could say), healthy marriage, own my own home, travel to a few places, did y'all think I was gonna forget "meet Mark???"... stuff like that. What was your dream as a child? It changed plenty of times, but my earliest goal was to be a paleontologist. Do you feel safe in your country? Sure, I guess. Safer than most places. If applicable, do you feel safe at your school? N/A Would you ever want to learn sign language? It'd be cool, sure, but it's not something I'm interested in pursuing. How many meals do you eat a day? 2-3. Sometimes just one "real" meal. Do you own any succulents? No. What color are your walls? A hideous puke green. Why. What color were the walls in the bedroom you grew up in? I don't remember at all. What was the last song you listened to on repeat? "Love Falls" by HELLYEAH. What is your favorite style (or styles) of dance? Modern. Have you ever performed a solo dance in front of a crowd? No. Have you ever sung a solo? No. Which insects are you afraid of? Most, really. Do you think it’s silly to be afraid of an insect, when it’s so tiny? It depends on the insect, of course. Even if I do know what it is and it's "safe," I'll still typically freak if it surprises me. When was the last time you had a deep conversation with someone? Hmmm. Sara, I believe? What are you waiting for? Jesus FUCKING Christ on a bike a job. What do you usually feel like doing the most at home? Stuff on the laptop. What grade were you in when you had your first crush? I don't remember... For "puppy dog love," I believe maybe the 4th grade, but I may be wrong. I'd say my first *real* crush was on a guy named Sebastian in my freshman year of high school. Shit man, did a lot go down my freshman year. I'm just reminiscing and crushes jumped between like five dudes 'til Jason won. At what age did you start experiencing sexual attraction, if any? Some time in middle school, I think? Like that's when I had my first bisexuality crisis: 6th or 7th grade. Have you ever split open a rock with a hammer, to see the glitter inside? No, but FUCK I WANNA. What type of tree do you see the most of where you live? There's a pine tree outside my window. Oh, and there's a pine tree in my back yard. Oh, what's that across the road? Woods of pine trees. Where do all birds in NC live? In pine trees. What does our air smell like? Pine trees. Where is your favorite place you’ve lived? My previous home as far as location; house itself, where I am now. It's got its issues, but it's cozy and a perfect size for just two people. What states have you lived in? Just 'ole North Carolina. Take me awaaaaaaaaaaaay- Do you wish you were someone else? Sometimes. What is your favorite thing about the month in which it is now? Literally just flowers. That's it. It. Everything else can suck a legion of dicks. Who were your best friends in high school? Hannia, Girt, Jason (if he counts), Alon, Maria... I had a few "best" ones. ^Are they still your best friends now? Girt is my closest thing to a "best friend" if you don't include my girlfriend. Do you live near the mountains? No, they're on the opposite end of the state. ;___; Do you live near a beach? We're like, two-ish hours away. What is your favorite beach that you’ve been to? Idk and idc, beaches aren't my thing. Do you collect seashells? Not seriously, but I'll keep a cool one if I find one. If you were to start a new collection, what would it be? If I was not ashamed of looking like a 23-y/o pre-teen in love with Just Bieber, I'd have more Markiplier merch than you'd fucking believe. (One of my biggest regrets in life was not buying the tasteful nudes calendar; I will eternally smite myself for being too embarrassed to have to explain why I would have that hanging above my bed rip.) If you had to pick one year and describe it as the best year of your life that you want to relive again, which year would it be? 2017 was fuckin litty titty. Is your world view the same as your parents’? In some ways with Mom, and I do know Dad and I differ on a few things. Well, if I learned more about his more political beliefs, I feel I'd probably disagree with most. What color are your glasses, if applicable? Black. Are you the person you thought you’d be when you were younger? No. Are you a confrontational person, or the peacekeeper? I'm a massive peacekeeper. I avoid confrontation like the PLAGUE. Do you like to read? Not nearly as much as I used to. Like all I ever read nowadays are RP posts as I obviously have to reply to them, but if they're long, it is common I procrastinate on reading it... ;_; Do you sleep too much or not enough? Probably too much, especially when I go to bed early. Although, I do wake up throughout the night and sometimes officially pretty early. Then some days I have a 1-2 hour nap, so that just adds to it. Who is your best friend? Sara. <3 How did you two meet? YouTube. How did you meet your current bf/gf? ^ How far away is your closest family member? Well I live with my mom, but she's at work atm. The last time you did something with BOTH of your parents was? BOY OH FUCKING BOY. My mom's the most bitter witch towards him, so even for family events, Dad usually only stops by to avoid creating a goddamn wreck, such as at birthday dinners. I think the last time they were in the same house was for my nephew's birthday half a year ago, I believe. What’s your favorite holiday? Halloween!!! Now that I have a niece and nephew who grasp the concept of Santa, Christmas is also really special to me. I don't want kids, but watching those sweethearts get so excited over their presents is magical. For me personally, the holiday has grown more and more about celebrating family, especially as we continue to branch out/go our own ways. So I guess I like the idea of Halloween better and would enjoy it more if I actually had something to do, but as far as joy goes, Christmas. Do you like pumpkin pie? I hate anything and everything pumpkin-flavored. The last time you went to the doctor, what were you there for? It was the see my psychiatrist. Do you take any medication regularly? Yeah. Is there any particular view you have on insane people? I see "insane" versus "sane" as far more of a gradient shift instead of a direct split; there're levels. I actually do legitimately think I at some juncture in the aftermath of the breakup qualified as slightly insane, yet I wasn't dangerous or entirely out of touch with reality. So if you tell me someone's actually insane, I'm going to fear them being the explosive, entirely unpredictable and loopy kind, but I know the person may be calm and somewhat stable on the outside, too. You gotta consider the severity. Do you believe in any conspiracies? 9/11 was orchestrated by the government and you cannot change my mind. I'm not totally sold on this one and lean more towards "nah" (I think), but the "we live in a simulation by a future civilization" is not that far-fetched at all if you actually look into it. It's very interesting, whether or not you're sold on it. Hell, Neil deGrasse Tyson firmly believes in it. Out of your friends, who is the funniest? Girt makes me laugh at the snap of his fingers, it seems. Anything you need to get rid of? I'm sure somewhere... Do you have any wasted talents? Animal knowledge and compassion, probably... I know I could make a fantastic rehabilitator for animals, among a plethora of other animal-related preservation and protection actions I could actively engage in. Well, I'm going back to school for zoology, but even now, I want to do more. There is a wildlife rehab place I may be able to volunteer at soon, tho! Mom's talking to a guy at work about me helping there. DAMN, livin a dream. Do you let the little things get to you? The issue could be as small as a single cell and it could still bother me. How often do you cry? Maybe once in a week, possibly longer. I don't know if you mean like really cry or just tear up/lightly cry. The latter is pretty common, but the other, not so much. Even if I want to cry, my jaw just entirely locks the hell up and I physically can't get it out. Is there anything you’re trying to prevent? I mean besides the common sense things everyone takes action to avoid, hm. I feel like there's so much, yet nothing is coming to me? Well, actually, it's usually a daily struggle to prevent at least one OCD cycle. When was the last time you were told you were cute? *shrug* When was the last time you were truly, completely happy with your life? It's been quite a while... At least over a year ago, when I began to get antsy with wanting a job and later going back to school. It just all started when I realized I was healed from the breakup and ready to move forward in life, but I wasn't. Do you miss the way things used to be between you and someone else? Multiple people. What colors has your hair been? Dirty blonde, brown, red, and purple. I've had red and purple highlights, and I naturally have blondish ones, too. I'm ready to dye it again, jfc. Most attempts are failures because my hair does NOT take color well whatsoever. It's only ever worked perfectly with the brand Splat, and my hair soaked in the dye for a LONG time before washing it out. Have you ever gotten burnt by a cigarette? No. Do you and your parents like any of the same bands/singers? We share interest in plenty of the same bands, Mom especially. Is there any food in your bedroom? What? No. Do you know anyone who has road rage? Who? MY LITTLE SISTER. Haven't seen the woman in three years, but I can promise you Jason's mom still has it to a legendary degree. How expensive is too expensive for a pair of shoes? I haven't looked for shoes in so long that I don't even know the average price. What kinds of cereal are in the cupboard? Honey Nut Cheerios, normal Cheerios I think, and we have a little bit of the chocolate chunk Special K cereal left over. It's got to be stale by now (it's not even closed fully); I need to remember to toss it. What’s the last thing you spent over $10 on? Ummm I'm not sure. Over $30? I think my tongue piercing was $40? Maybe even lower? Or slightly higher?? I don't remember. Do you know who lives three houses down from you? I think so. The one time I was locked out of my house in the snow with Teddy and I waited like a fucking hour until I broke down, absolutely freezing (I was in my pajamas, dude), and walked down the road to try and get help (I needed to call my mom, obviously, and I didn't have my phone), I believe it was the third neighbor who answered. Turned out being a retired deputy who was super intimidating yet kind at the same time; he let Teddy and me stay in his house (mind you, Teddy is incontinent and didn't have his diaper on, which I warned him about) while Mom was on her way home. He gave me a jacket and some water, even when I said I was fine, but you could tell he wasn't totally sure about trusting this random, sobbing girl at his door because he asked me a thousand questions about my story and quizzed if I really did live in this area. Obviously a good cop, but after a day like that, I was just terrified of an old man who appeared a bit gruff. But thankfully Mom got there to save the day and I am forever grateful for that guy. WOW what a story for a simple question. Is there a bulletin board in your room? No. Is your mom a big health freak or your dad? Or neither? "Health freak" seems a bit extreme for both of them, but Mom is more concerned about health in general. Do you know anyone who wants to be the president one day? No. What kinds of chips are in the cupboards? We just have tortilla chips, I think. I try to keep snacks out of the house to avoid temptation, and who eats plain tortilla chips. Do you have your mom's or dad's hair? Mom's. What’s the first thing you see when you walk into your bedroom? Most would probably notice my Nightmare Before Christmas poster first, being as big as it is and on the wall opposite the entrance. Do you prefer the truth, even if it’s harsh? YES. I NEED to know this kinda stuff, even if the truth is really hard to hear. Do you have any friends who have naturally red hair? I don't think so. Have you ever cried when a teacher retired? I think I did when my very first band teacher did. EVERYONE loved him. Like, the entire school. Does your kitchen look like it was designed in a completely different decade? No? When’s the last time you wore heels? Great question. Probably not since my sister's wedding in '16. Do you have your mom’s or dad’s eyes? My grampa's on Mom's side. What’s the best date movie? Probably a rom com? Have your parents ever been out of the country? No. How many pairs of jeans, all together, are in your house? Zero. Do you swear and yell while playing video games? I'll swear under my breath or seethe in frustration, but I never yell. Is there any alcohol in the fridge? No. Has a best friend ever ditched you for a girlfriend/boyfriend? Pretty much. Whenever she starts dating a guy, she dips, and whenever/if ever we talk, she rambles absolutely endlessly about him. Do you know anyone who has grossly skinny eyebrows? I couldn't possibly care less about how your eyebrows look. Do your pets chase after bugs? Roman and Bentley sure do. Bentley is a Professional Fly Moncher, specifically. When’s the last time you were so excited you couldn’t sleep? Why? Uhhh good question. Probs the night before Sara got here for my b-day. What is your mom’s favorite movie? Hm, good question! I'd ask her, but I don't want her to ask me why I am lmao. What TV family reminds you of your own family? Probably none. Did you ever really believe that the stork brought babies? No. I don't remember what I thought, but I know it wasn't that. Do you have any relatives who really spoil you? No, I think? Well Dad gives my sisters and me way too much money for Christmas and always tells us to ask him if we need anything, but I pretty much never ask him for said things, so I don't know the extent he'd go. Are there any drawers in your house that are just filled with junk? Pretty much. Is the last person you spoke to in love? That's my mom, so I doubt that with all I know. Do you know anyone who has security cameras in their house? I don't believe so. What was the last movie to make you cry? I think the last was Coco. Moana may have made me tear up, but I can't remember... Has anyone you know ever pulled the fire alarm in school, joking around? Not to my memory. What time do you usually go to sleep at sleepovers, if ever? I haven't been to a sleepover in God knows how long. Who was the main character in the last book you read? Alice Liddell. Who are the last people you saw kiss? Via YouTube, Jeffree and his boyfriend. Irl, I don't know. Have you ever posted a fan fiction on a website? No. Do you ever fantasize about your future wedding? Who’s the bride/groom? Not very much. Like I've had brief daydreams about it, sure, but it's not something that's on my mind a lot. Still got a long time before that happens. What was the last unpleasant thing to wake you up? My cat not knowing how to keep his mouth shut. Would you rather look at clouds or stars? Stars. Well, it depends; stars if we're in a completely isolated area where you can see them crystal clear or the clouds are boring, but otherwise, clouds if their design and colors are cool. Do you have any relatives who are expecting a baby really soon? No. Do you ever wonder what the opposite sex do at sleepovers? No. When you get married, who will be the maid of honor/best man? My mom, no questions asked. When’s the last time you broke plans? Why? I wasn't feeling well. I was supposed to see my VR coach that day. Have you ever been in a wedding? What were you? Yes, my sister's. I was a bridesmaid. It was an absolutely awful experience because I was hot as fuck, it was triggering as HELL with me still grieving Jason, and I felt positively hideous in a dress when I was at such a horrible weight. I wish so dearly I could redo that day; I fell like I put a serious damper on my sister's big day. Would you feel safer with an alarm system or security cameras? Hm, depends on the scenario... I guess an alarm system? Like security cameras will show a murderer climbing through my window, but they're not gonna wake me up to save my ass. Does it matter to you what kind of shampoo you use? So long it smells nice, isn't watery, and doesn't only add oil to my hair, I don't care much. Has a stray dog ever tried to bite you? No. When riding a bus, do you prefer to sit in front, in the back, or in the middle? Hm... idk. When I took the bus home with Jason, we always sat in the back, and that's really the only time I took a bus regularly. I think otherwise, I'd prefer the middle, closer to the front? I think I usually did that on occasions like band competitions and such. Have you ever been on a cross-country train ride? No. Are you normally a person to tell people off? No, that's rare. Is there any TV show that ended that you wish hadn’t? Meerkat Manor. Though I would hope they'd lessen down on the false story-telling. Stick to the true KMP events. When you feel stressed, do you take things out on the wrong people? Sometimes. Do you even wear any jeans other than skinny anymore? I don't wear jeans period. What did you talk about at lunch today with your friends? N/A Are you sensitive to caffeine? Definitely not. My system's too used to it, probably. How do you usually get around? Mom drives me. I'm 23. :^) Which languages do you wish you could speak fluently in? German. Have you ever been accused of being too clingy? SURPRISINGLY no, at least to my memory. Do you like Vitamin Water? Never tried, don't want to. What was the last thing you took a picture of? Dad and me on his birthday. Do you know anyone that uses Sprint as their phone carrier? Idk. Well, I think. When you go to McDonalds, what drink do you usually get? Coke. Do you have a Kindle or iPad or neither? Neither. Would you rather read or write? Write. When was the last time someone took a picture of you? Sometime during Bobby's visit literally days ago. I already forgot who took it... and who else was in it lmao. Do you own a pair of slippers? Yeah, two. A meerkat pair and then a far less extra pair that're closer to socks. I think they have cats on them? I got them for Christmas I think and haven't worn or seen them much. Would you rather see Taylor Swift or Carrie Underwood in concert? Not a fan of either, but Carrie Underwood is more tolerable and even has a couple songs I enjoy. Name something negative that you hate about yourself: I'll jump to a conclusion within .02 seconds of something negative happening. Or not even "negative" or something that's purely in my head. Is your house currently hot, cold or just right? The house itself is fine, and my room is just right because I have my fan on. Is there a Dead End road near where you live? I can't think of one off the top of my head, but it's likely, really. There's lots of those here. Growing up, did you see your cousins often? No. We live many states away on both parents' sides. Where was your first job at? GameStop. Who are you tired of seeing in the news a lot? (Celebrities) It's been like two days and I'm over seeing the James Charles/Tati drama everywhere. You can't be interested in the YouTube community without being drowned in that shit right now somehow someway on any YT-coverage page and YouTube itself. Have you ever had to call and complain about a product you bought? I personally haven't. Would you date someone who’s shorter than you? I very openly and severely judge you if fucking height means that much to you. Do you mind being the third wheel? Not really, no. I'd only feel uncomfortable if they were getting pretty intimate. Has a kiss ever made you weak in the knees? Um I didn't know that was actually a thing so no. Do you feel comfortable buying condoms? Never been in that position. Have you ever dated two people at once? No. Have you ever been tested for STDs? No. Well wait, that time I gave blood I probably was just out of safety protocol. Have you ever run into your ex with his/her new sweetie? No. Have you ever felt guilty after doing something sexual? When I was in that "wait does this break the abstinence rule" phase, yeah. God was I technical. Have you ever had a condom break during sex? N/A Do your parents know if you’re having sex? Well considering I'm with a girl and she lives states away, that answer's obvious. Do you eat chips or crackers more? Chips. Would you rather be a singer or a dancer? A dancer. Would you rather be a musician or a painter? A painter, maybe? If I could play the electric guitar, though... idk. What social media sites do you visit the most? Facebook. What did you hair look like in high school? Long, thick as fuck, brown (or dyed black) with some sort of highlight, and it was split to the left with the hair swooped over my right eye. Basically "I want the emo swoop but my hair is too fucking thick to obey hairspray." :^) Which dollar store do you shop at? Depends on what's closest, usually. We rarely ever stop at one unless it's for candy to bring into the movie theater, seriously lol. I think usually Dollar General? Do you prefer candy corn or conversation hearts? WE DON'T KNOW EITHER. Skeletons or scarecrows? s k e l l y b o y s Has anyone ever given you the silent treatment? Yep. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever had in your mouth? I learned on that day I hate giving blowjobs. Has anyone ever threatened you with a knife? No, thankfully. (If you’re a girl) Has anyone ever called you ‘shortie’ instead of girl? BOY I would fucking cackle. I hate that word. No. Do you ever watch The Simpsons? No. Have you ever sent an embarrassing moment of yours into a mag to be printed? OH MY GOD I remember that!!! But no. What IS your most embarrassing moment? Too lazy to go through the novel of 'em to pick the worst. Do you think you’re more cute or sexy? You assume I find myself either. Do you own any mini skirts? I don't own any skirts period. Do you draw little hearts and stuff with eyeliner next to your eyes? No. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever lost? Idk. Has your mom ever lied to you? I'm sure she has before. Do you have a deep voice? For a girl, yeah. When’s the last time someone made breakfast for you? *shrugs* Exclusively for me, probably never. Do you do something new with your hair practically every day? No, it's the same everyday. When someone knocks on the door, who do you think it is? Delivery guy. Has anyone ever licked your foot? Ew no. Do you play games with boys/girls, like ‘hard to get’? I'm not 15. Has a guy ever quoted a romantic Shakespeare line to you? No, and I'm glad, as I'd cringe into another realm. Is there a Sonic where you live? Yes, I LIVE- Do you smile with your teeth? Usually. I look less high, at least. What did you eat for lunch today? A pb&j. What do you like on your pizza? Pepperoni, jalapenos, or meat lovers. What is in the back seat of your car right now? I don't own a personal car. Mom has a a load of stuff in the back of hers, at least I think... That's super rare, but she's been so ungodly busy idk if she's had time to clean it out. I haven't paid attention so can't recall. What was the last thing you threw up? Idr. Menthol or regular cigarettes? I don't smoke and never have, so idk. What is your favorite episode of Friends? I don't watch it, and I haven't seen many episodes at all if for whatever reason I was in a room and it was on. Does anyone have any blackmail on you? No. Have you been to a strip club? No. What’s the last sporting event you watched? Hell if I remember. It had to either be my 16th birthday when Jason's family was all together watching the Super Bowl, or a hockey game with my dad. Last person’s house you were in? Besides my own, my sister's. Who is the last person you sent a message to on Facebook? Nicole. Ever go to camp? No. Were you an honor roll student in school? Yeah. Do you have a tan? HA no. How old do you want to be when you have kids? I don't want kids. Are you someone’s best friend? Yeah. Favorite gemstone? Dragon's breath opal. Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? Drive thru, almost always. Does your first memory involve your dad? No. When was the last time you went swimming? Last summer at the beach. Holy fuck the water was so perfect. Has your luggage ever gotten lost? No. Have you ever thought it would be cool to smash a guitar? No. Like... just why. Do you ever get flu shots? No.

[profoundnet]

Profound Member Post - October 2018

Header by @pantydean and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis(and more!) on our Discord Server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in entirety during that month.

MEMBER CONTRIBUTIONS FOR OCTOBER 2018!

Masterpost below the cut.

Darmys - @darmysasagiri​ - Darmys

Not in Kansas Anymore

Summary: Sareno Dean Winchester answers to no one. Born to a powerful House on the storm wracked mining planet Kansas, he and his brother Sam have grown up strong and independent. The only person that holds their respect is the enigmatic Bobby Smith, Master of the martial arts academy where they train.

When alien bounty hunters kidnap Bobby, Dean throws away the life he knew and sets out—with Sam and Baby—to rescue his mentor, no matter how far they have to travel through known space.

Tags:  Alternate Universe - The Highroad Trilogy, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Past Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Past Dean Winchester/Nick Munroe, Robot!Baby, Canon-Typical Deaths, Canon-Typical Violence, Attempted Sexual Assault (Not Involving Our Main Characters), Period-Typical Racism, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2018

SFW

JessJesstheBest - @saywhatjessie​ - JessJesstheBest

Fucking Hollywood

Summary: 

“Okay…” he started, aware that the only way out of this conversation was through. “So I admit, I don’t know a whole lot about,” he gestured vaguely at Sam. “That. But me, personally, I have a hard time telling the difference between romantic and platonic love.” 

“So like aromanticism.” “No, what?” Dean glanced at Sam who was looking at him weirdly. “I don’t know. But one of the only ways I know how to confirm the difference is with sex.” Or the boys have a discussion about media theory and Dean learns a new word.

Tags: Fluff are!Dean, Bi!Dean (I mean obviously Dean is bi but he's actually explicitly aro in this so, Human AU, Sam's at Stanford, John is dead, Aromantic Dean Winchester, 

SFW

waywarded - waywarded

Discoveries

Summary: Dean and Cas are in a relationship and Dean is being too considerate for Cas's liking with making sure they don't take things too fast in the bedroom. Experimentation on what turns Castiel on ensues.

Tags: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Romance, Fluff, Sexual Content, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Cute, Kissing, Making Out

NSFW

ultimatetrollcolinfirth - @ultimatetrollcolinfirth 

Destiel Art Round Up Oct 2018

Summary: A round up of my Destiel based creations, mostly for inktober. Tags: Destiel, Inktober 2018, 

Link to art piece #1, Link to art piece #2

SFW

ultimatetrollcolinfirth - @ultimatetrollcolinfirth - LeafZelindor

Dean’s Weakness

Summary: Profound Bot prompt Challenge

Dean just saw Cas getting out of the shower. Cas is Dean's win. Sam is likely a leviathan.

In which Creature Sam figures out some important information about Dean Winchester.

SFW

amandacanzo - amandacanzo

Sweet Surprise

Summary:  Dean is a great baker, but perhaps not the best communicator. When Dean had an embarrassing accident in his bakery (Sam’s fault), he left a lasting impression on Dr Castiel Novak, who had the pleasure of stitching up Dean’s asscheek.

When Cas comes to Dean’s bakery with Anna to order a wedding cake, Dean figures that Cas is getting married.

While Dean’s happy to have a new friend, it’s instantly clear to him he can’t keep his feelings in check. Especially when Cas is super affectionate and seems to be treating each hang out as a date.

On top of everything, Dean still has to make what he thinks is Cas’ wedding cake.

DCBB 2018

Tags: Baker Dean Winchester, Doctor Castiel, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, AU 

NSFW

Accompanying art by @abaddon-all-hope​

alessariel - alessariel

A Promise At Sunrise

Summary: “Dude, don’t look now, but there’s another guy wearing the same costume as you!” Charlie daintily sipped her drink while Dean nearly spat out his beer. What starts with a similar costume rapidly turns into the most amazing one-night stand Dean's ever had. Cas is funny, gorgeous, mysterious and really knows how to use his... wings. Among other things. Dean made Cas promise to stay the night and watch the sunrise with him, but he finds himself hoping that Cas will stay a lot longer than that.

Tags: Alternate Universe, Halloween, Creature Fic, Creature Castiel, Costumes, Smut, Fluff, A little bit of angst, just a tiny bit, Bottom Dean, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester

NSFW

blueeyesandpie - @blueeyesandpie​

Destiel Gifset 

Summary: A gifset of key early-Cas moments that establish his loyalty/connection to Dean, set to the lyrics of Simon & Garfunkel's Kathy's Song.

Tags: dean winchester, castiel, gifsets, destiel, kathy's song, season 4, season 5

SFW

pingnova - @pingnova​ - pingnova

Don’t Kill The Messenger

Summary: Father Castiel Novak investigates miracles for the Vatican. While it’s disheartening when they all end up fakes, he continues his relentless pursuit in the name of faith and science. After a particularly convincing case in Brazil is taken from him, he’s reassigned to a believer in New York City who’s blessed with the wounds of Christ. Except, Dean Winchester turns out to be no believer, and he and Castiel have very different ideas of what constitutes a divine gift.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Hurt Dean Winchester, Priest!Castiel, Possession, Angst, Gore, Temporary Major Character Death

SFW

Accompanying art by SketchyDean

gouinette parle trop - @artbloggouinetteparletrop​ 

Collection of Fan Art Made Through SUPTOBERART 

Summary: MASTERPOST for the art I created during suptoberart 2018

Tags: destiel, destiel fan art, wayward sisters, suptoberart 2018, spn fanart

SFW

MalMuses - @malmuses​ - MalMuses

Something in the Fog

Summary: Finally settling into some semblance of normalcy after Cas comes back from the Empty, Sam finds a case up in New England. In one historic town, people are losing their minds and drowning themselves in a nearby river. Sam and Dean set off alone, only to quickly call Cas to their aid when they realize that the unnerving town of Dunwich is hiding far more than your average witch or ghoul. Drawn into investigating a cult that worships a being far beyond their comprehension, Team Free Will doesn’t understand quite how much danger they are in... Fic posted for SPN Eldritch Bang.

Tags: Dub Con (Possession), Further Clairification of Dub Con Tag in the Appropriate Chapter, Cults, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Miscommunication, Eldritch Horror, Angst with a Happy Ending

NSFW

MalMuses - @malmuses​​ - MalMuses

Without A Trace

Summary: When Sam disappears during a hunt gone horribly wrong, Dean and his angel Castiel follow a trail of clues that lead them back through Sam’s past. Will Dean be able to save Sam from his history – and will Cas be able to save Dean from himself? Nothing is a simple as it seems for Dean and Cas. Luckily, they have some great friends (and unexpected allies) willing to help them through it. (WIP fic that finished posting this month.)

Tags: Canon Verse, MCD (temporary), Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff, Plot Twists, Torture, First Dates, Drowning, Kidnapping, BAMF!Cas, Gabriel is a badass, Redemption Arcs, Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Hurt/Comfort, Wing Kink, Grace Sharing, Angel True Forms, Miscommunication, Angst with a Happy Ending

NSFW

MalMuses - @malmuses​​​ - MalMuses

Soup and Whiskey

Summary: “Jack, you know Dean and I, well, we’re not…” Cas spoke quietly, making an awkward, vague hand gesture. The raised eyebrow that Jack gave him came directly from Sam. Cas could see the developing bitch face and it was equal parts entertaining and alarming. “Really,” Cas confirmed. “We aren’t.” Jack put his spoon down slowly to pick up his juice. “Then you should be,” he responded easily, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. A little 14x03 coda.

Tags: 14x03 Coda, Jack ex machina, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions

SFW

saltnhalo - saltnhalo

What The Rain Brings

Summary: In which Castiel's new roommate—supposed to be an alpha, under the guidelines of the college dorms—turns out to be a) late, and b) a beautiful, sarcastic, drenched omega.

Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Dean, Meet-Cute, True Mates, Scenting, Misunderstandings, Explicit Sexual Content, Topping from the Bottom, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Porn with Feelings

NSFW

The Sketching Fox - @sketching-fox​ 

My Little Destiel Collection

Summary: A Collection of 10 digital artworks, created during the SupToberArt /Inktober 2018, showing all posts about Destiel!  

Tags: Supernatural, Destiel, Castiel, Dean Winchester, SPNFanart, Spnart, suptober2018, suptoberart2018

SFW

Jdragon122 - @jdragon122​ - Jdragon122

Outlast

Summary: It seemed like a normal case. It always does... Dean has never seen Castiel, the real Castiel. But he’s never really thought about it until the truth of it is thrown in his face, abruptly, and violently. A case out in the deserts of Arizona and old Native American lands uncover a long dormant evil that reemerges when the brothers and the angel stumble upon it. The evil is hungry for power and what powerful being is more tempting than an angel. With Cas suddenly ripped from the brothers, stranded in the middle of the desolate wilderness, they must find a way to save their friend. With the clock ticking and their resources dwindling, Sam and Dean must find a way to defeat the evil and save Cas — before Cas becomes twisted beyond recognition, and before the hunters become the hunted.

Tags: Canon Divergent, Canon Conpliant, Canon-Typical Violence, season/series 11, Dark, Angst, Dean Whump, Cas Whump, Sam is okay though... mostly, Male OC, female OC, Angel True Forms, Castiel (Supernatural)’s True Form, Blood and Violence, very brief scene that might be considered noncon, graphic description of corpses, BAMF Castiel, BAMF Sam, BAMF Dean, switch Castiel, switch Dean, panic attacks, Case Fic, Hurt Dean, Hurt, angst with a happy ending, temporary character death, wings, topping from the bottom,

NSFW

BinJLG - @honeyedsam - BinJLG

Holloween

Summary: Dean spirals into a deep depression after casting Michael out and ends up isolating himself. But Castiel WILL NOT let him spend his favorite holiday alone.

Tags: Destiel, Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester mentioned, Jack Kline mentioned, Mary Winchester mentioned, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Ideation, Depressed Dean Winchester, Canon Divergence, Halloween, First Kiss, Depression, Mental Illness, Unreliable Narrator

SFW

Nera_Solani - @nera-solani​ - Nera_Solani

Show me your secrets and I’ll show you madness

Summary: Are you afraid of the dark? No?If you ever find a door that leads nowhere, don't go in. Four teenagers make the mistake of doing so anyway and don’t come back out. Which is how Dean, Sam and Castiel find themselves investigating a case that leads them right into an ancient Greek myth about a labyrinth housing a monster. But the monster isn't the only thing lurking in this dark place; the walls are breathing, watching, waiting… Being separated in a giant maze that isn’t attached to our reality isn’t how any of them had envisioned this case would go.

What is real? What is an illusion? Is that blood? What was that shadow? In every corner awaits a new nightmare, each one worse than the other. The three men need to save the missing teenagers and find a way out — if they can find each other, and live through the terrors the maze shows them. But none of that is easy when you’re being confronted with your worst memories and fears. Especially when you have to lose the love of your life over and over again… Well? Are you afraid of the dark? Maybe you should be.

Tags: Graphic depictions of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Injury, Post-Season/Series 13, Case Fic, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Illusions, Hallucinations, Temporary Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Fluff and Angst, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Idiots in Love, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Knows, Nearly Human Castiel, Grace Sex, DCBB 2018

NSFW

grumpyphoenix - @paintmeahero - grumpyphoenix

Glutton For Punishment

Summary: Castiel is trying out everything now that he's human. When he finds Dean's porn-stash, he wants to try some of it out, but Dean won't let him. So he has to goad Dean into it.

Tags: Kinktober 2018, Not Beta Read, Edgeplay, Dacryphilia, Spanking, Sadism, Masochism, Biting, Praise Kin,k Angry Sex, Bondage, Hair-pulling, Asphyxiation, Crossdressing, Costumes, Creampie, Under-negotiated Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Jealousy, Human Castiel, Possessive Behaviour

NSFW

supernatural9917 - @supernatural9917fic​ - supernatural9917

We Eat in Here!

Summary: Sam is really sick of walking in on Dean and Cas boning. Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo. Square fill: Sam is scarred for life.

NSFW

supernatural9917 - @supernatural9917fic​ - supernatural9917

Doctor Doctor, Please

Summary: Dean has a special request of Cas Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo. Square fill: Playing doctor.

NSFW

supernatural99117 - @supernatural9917fic​ - supernatural9917

Roommate Wanted

Summary: Dean Winchester moved to Pontiac, Illinois six months ago when his girlfriend Carmen got a new job. Unfortunately for Dean, Carmen then left him for her boss, so he needs to find a roommate ASAP. Castiel Novak needs to move out of his brother’s house before his niece is born, and when he finds Dean’s ad on Craigslist, it seems like the perfect solution for both of them. So what if Dean is ridiculously gorgeous? Castiel can keep his crush under control. So what if Castiel is gay? Totally straight Dean isn’t at all affected by seeing him hook up with dudes. They’re just a couple of completely platonic roommates. Well… that’s what they think, anyway…

Written for the DeanCas Big Bang 2018 with art by @busysquirrel

NSFW

jscribbles - jscribbles

Taker of Souls

Summary: The angels have fallen. Castiel is human, Sam is recovering from the trials, and Dean doesn’t want to expose them to the world as it’s crumbling outside the bunker doors. To pass time in their solitude, Dean discovers a hidden room in the bunker full of dangerous magical artifacts and accidentally exposes his friends and family to an ancient horror. If Castiel thought adjusting to humanity was already a terror in itself, he experiences a world of pain when the ancient spirit Dean released chooses him as a vessel to fulfill its evil prophecy. Castiel begins to change as voices call out to him in the night and take the form of the one righteous man he desires, temptation drawing him to complete a ritual that will allow one of Hell’s most feared ancient entities to occupy his vessel. Before Sam, Dean, Kevin and Crowley know what is happening, they are thrown into a lockdown, unable to escape the bunker as the cruel, twisted monster inside of Castiel prowls the hallways, hunting them, thirsty for their blood, hungry for their souls.

Tags: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Castiel/Dean, temporary major character death, Minor Character Death, Pining, Slow Burn, non-con, dub-con, Blood, Gore, Body mutilation, Self Harm, zombie-type characters, Hallucinations, Nightmares, horror-imagery, offensive language/insults, spoilers for The Witch, the boys cry, Sickness, Possession, canon-calibre discussions of religion, the evil dead 2013, Crossover, Inspired By, Smut, minor prescription drug use, Vomiting

NSFW

idjitsaviors - @idjitsaviors - Glitchedwings & Akobel - @akobel

Baby, Baby

Summary: Trench was used to sitting on lots of objects, sitting in lots of cars. Baby was used to accommodating articles of clothing (mostly of the flannel variety), and many different items. Of course, Trench was not yet used to being dragged along on celestial plots, and Baby was not yet used to that happening in her backseat. Still, weirdness was the one constant in their daily lives, so the day the trench coat and car met was like any other. By now they’ve met several times over the years, caught in the crossfires of their two owners' friendship and pining. But when Trench is forced to spend months in Baby's trunk, will they finally watch their owners find love? And can they make something of their own? A mostly canon-adjacent fic following Dean and Cas through the eyes of Baby— and the eyes of Trench, her partner in crime.

Tags: Crack treated seriously, canon compliant, mutual pining SFW

[theartofbeinganerd]

Hi! If you are taking prompts could you write a fic where Fitz is a little mad (and concerned) to Jemma after her stunt. I liked the episode but not really sure about the invincible story line.

Major Spoilers for 5x16!!

Hi!! Yeah, I know that a lot of people are worried about the whole ‘invincible’ thing, and I do have a feeling that it’s not going to end well - but, I know at least for me that I’m willing to see where it goes first before I start worrying about my faves! :)

Also, this sort of took on a life of its own, because there’s still a lot that hasn’t been said (at least on screen) between FS that needs to be, so I kind of took the route where them talking about Jemma’s stunt led to them finally having The Conversation that I feel they need to. I hope it’s still okay, though!

(Ao3)

-

Their quinjet had been in the air for a little bit now, andthey were well on their way to the first of the bases that Malick had turnedover to SHIELD to search for the weapon Hale was after. But, despite the amountof time that had passed, it hadn’t dulled the emotion that was still poundingthrough Fitz’s body.

All that he could see in his mind’s eye was a constant loopof the memory of watching Jemma writhing and screaming in pain on the ground,thinking that she was dying right before his eyes and being unable to doanything to stop it.

She and Elena were conversing about something at the moment,sitting next to each other on the seats at the opposite side of the quinjet toFitz. They were possibly making some kind of small talk (or, his mind filled indarkly, hatching another potentially life-threatening plan), but he was drowningall of it out.

That was, until he heard, “Fitz.”

Blinking a couple of times, he glanced up at them, and hecould tell simply from Jemma’s expression that she’d already said his namequite a few times in her attempt to get his attention – and that she was bothirked by his lack of reply and concerned about it.

Elena glanced between them, then stood up quickly, awkwardlythumbing over her shoulder to the cockpit. “I’m…um…going to sit up there for abit.”

Jemma waited until Elena had taken her seat in the cockpitand was out of earshot before she stood herself, crossing the small space ofthe quinjet to perch on the seat beside Fitz instead. She was quiet a beat,then asked, “What is it, Fitz?”

He looked up at her incredulously, arching his eyebrows andletting out a short, humorless laugh. “What is – oh, I dunno, maybe I’m still reeling a bit from what I thought wasthe sight of my wife dying right in front of my bloody eyes.”

There was another beat, then she questioned, a lick of disbeliefin her tone, “Are you upset with me?”

Fitz held his hands out widely and gaped at her wordlessly,unable to believe that she was being so blasé about all of this. Sure, it was Jemma, and it was perfectly like her todive head-on into a theory once she was sure of it, but experimenting with her ownlife? That was pushing it, even forher!

It scared him to death, wondering what else she might dowhile believing that they couldn’t die until they “broke the loop” (which hestill didn’t think was possible, but that was a whole other issue). He couldn’tlose her, not now, not ever, andespecially not because she was somehow convinced of their own invincibility.

So yes, he was upset; he was also frustrated, and he wasalso tired of something always going wrong and the world always ending aroundthem and always having to worry every single day about her getting hurt somehow.

Jemma was eyeing him impatiently, clearly waiting for ananswer, and he noted that her eyebrows were now arched – she meant business.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Fitz leant forward to rest hiselbows on his knees, burying his face in hands. It made his next words come outmuffled as he reminded her, “An hour ago, you performed an experiment with atwenty-five percent chance of you ingesting a lethal amount of acid, Jemma.”

She huffed in something like affront, and he didn’t evenhave to look at her to know that she was crossing her arms over her chest. “Andan hour ago, I told you that thescience was sound.”

He groaned into his hands, giving a jerky shake of his headbefore lifting it and turning to look at her, narrowing his eyes. “Jesus Christ Jemma, I don’t care how sound thescience was; this is your life you’retalking about.” He noticed her eyes narrowing slightly as well, noticed the waythat she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, and with a sigh, he sat back once moreand began anxiously bouncing his leg up and down. Keeping his voice low, hepointed out, “If you’re mad at me ‘bout something, you can just tell me instead of y’know…punishing meby making me think you’re dying, or something.”

“I was notpunishing you,” she insisted immediately. There was a moment of hesitation,then she added softly, “Am I upset that you…didn’t tell me about –” taking abreath, she then finished in a rush, “the Doctor? Yes, of course. We’ve spentso much time over the past couple of years trying to figure out how to keepcommunicating and not let things like this come between us, how to be open andhonest with each other, and now we’re…we’re married,Fitz. We’re supposed to trust each other, rely on each other when we need to,and…you didn’t. And as a result, things got so bad that…” She trailed off,blowing out a harsh breath and giving a tight little shake of her head. Whenshe blinked, he could see a tear roll down her cheek before she quickly brushedit away. “If you had just talked tome, come to me, trusted me –”

“I trust you, you know I do,” Fitz cut in to remind her.

He’d been waiting for this emotional outburst ever since hissplit where the Doctor took over; he’d been waiting for her to tell him how shereally felt about it – he’d justnever quite pictured it like this,though. And, he really just wished that it hadn’t taken her experimenting withher own life to get there.

“And I…wanted to tell you, I did,” he went on, “but…somethingalways held me back. Sometimes I told myself that I didn’t want to burden youwith just one more thing, sometimes I was afraid that I’d scare you or push youaway, sometimes…sometimes I just told myself that I was waiting for the righttime. They were all excuses, I know that now. I think…that I knew if I told you–”

“I’d have stopped you,” Jemma finished, releasing a shakingbreath.

“Yeah,” Fitz answered on a heavy sigh.

She nodded shortly in response, as though she’d expected asmuch.

He could also tell, though, that she was blaming herself,taking on the guilt of what he’d done, just like she always did, just like witheverything else. He absolutely refused to let it happen this time, though.

“Hey,” he started, trying to catch her gaze, but to noavail, “it’s not your fault, okay? This is all on me.”

Jemma shook her head, finally turning to him, and he couldsee the hurt and the sadness and the guilt written plainly in her eyes, makinghis heart constrict in his chest. “I should’ve noticed that something wasn’tright, Fitz! I’m your best friend, I’m your wife,I should’ve – but I wrote off all the signs as stress and a lack of sleep and –”

“Because I was tryingto hide it from you, from everyone!”

“It doesn’t matter! I’m supposed to know you better than anyone! And because I didn’t, people gothurt and –”

“That is not yourfault,” he argued, his tone firm as he held up his hands, putting an immediatestop to that thought. “You don’t get to take responsibility for that, Jemma.You were just as much a…a victim as anyone else.”

Just then, remembering the sight of that gun pointed at her,all because of him, had his handsshaking slightly in his lap. Was there anyone he hadn’t hurt that day?

He’d been trying his best to block out the memories, butthinking about them now had them resurfacing with a vengeance, and his disgustwith the darkness that was living inside of him and how it had caused him toinflict so much pain on the people that he loved made his stomach churn.

Keeping his voice low, Fitz told her, “You shouldn’t beworrying about how this could somehow be your fault – you should be worryingabout what it means.”

At first, there was only silence in response, save for thequiet sound of her failed attempts to hide the way that she was sniffling.Finally, though, Jemma asked, “And what does it mean, Fitz?”

He let out a shuddering sigh, but he just couldn’t quitebring himself to say the words, so he talked around them, muttering, “Look, Ijust…I just don’t want anything to happen to you, okay? And…yeah, okay, maybethe last time we lived all of this, things were different. I dunno, maybe…maybeI told you about the Doctor, or maybe a bomb never exploded next to a bunch ofmonoliths and created that fear rift so none of this ever happened. Maybe thenwe were okay, and you could trust me, and we…and Deke’s mum was born, but –”

“What are you saying?” she cut in, her voice barely morethan a whisper.

“All I’m saying is…you think we’re supposedly invinciblebecause we have to live to have a daughter, but…”

“I thought you believed that we couldn’t change anything,”Jemma reminded him, her voice rising slightly, and she really sounded upsetnow.

“I meant about stopping the planet from blowing up,” hepointed out. “That’s what all of this is leading to, what it’s always led to.It doesn’t matter what we change, and I’m sure we’ve probably changed thingsbefore, hoping for a different outcome every time, but it’s always the same and–” That time, he cut himself off, breathing out harshly. “But, that’s not thepoint. I just want you to…be more careful, because us having a daughter in aprevious loop doesn’t mean it’ll happen this time, okay?”

She stood up abruptly, and his gaze automatically followedher. From the expression on her face, Fitz could now confirm that Jemma was indeedupset – very upset.

Before she could say anything, though, he hastily added, “Jemma,I’m just trying to save you from having to – you deserve more than this, and after everything I’ve done, Idon’t deserve your forgiveness – anyone’sforgiveness, actually – let alone deserve you.”

Jemma gave a teary, humorless laugh, rolling her eyes andshaking her head fiercely. “This is just like you, isn’t it? You always makethese sacrifices, deciding for mewhether or not I can live without you, about what I do or don’t deserve. My god, Fitz, I married you, didn’t I? That’s not justsome small thing; it means that I’ve tied my life to yours, for better or worse. Remember?”

He wanted to point out that they didn’t actually say those words at any point duringtheir wedding, but he was wise enough to know that now was not the time. “Yeah, but you didn’t have all the information then –”

“I certainly had enough!” She blew out a breath, her gaze flickingupward as she blinked rapidly a couple of times. When she’d seemingly gottenher emotions under control, she reminded him softly, “Fitz, after everything we’ve been through… Yes,things are…complicated now, and maybe I was – was a bit upset, a bit hurt, butwhat I did wasn’t some sort of punishment. I am truly convinced that myhypothesis is correct, and I knew that I was going to be alright. I’m sorrythat I didn’t warn you, but…” She moved to sit back down beside him, cautiouslyreaching out to take his hands in hers, as though she was afraid that he wasn’tgoing to let her. “I know that we can get through this, just like we havegotten through everything else before this. We just need to trust each other,count on each other, and work together.” A little smile flitted across her lipsas she finished, “That’s how we work best, isn’t it?”

Fitz still wasn’t completely convinced that it would be sosimple, so easy, nor was he at all convinced of her invincibility theory or herbelief that they could break the loop and stop the planet from cracking apart.But, he would always believe in Jemma;that was something that would never and could never change.

And, well, as long as he stuck by her side and did his bestto help her try to stop the world’s oncoming destruction, he could keep an eyeon her and put a stop to anymore needlessly risky experiments before they couldbegin.

So, Fitz offered her a half-smile, absently stroking histhumb over her ring, the feel of the metal beneath his skin soothing him just abit. “Yeah,” he replied simply, “it is.”

[romancatholicreflections]

28th August >> Daily Reflection/Commentary on Today’s First Reading for Roman Catholics on Tuesday of the Twenty-First Week in Ordinary Time (2 Thessalonians 2:1-3, 14-16).

The coming of the Lord and the prelude to it.

In the First Letter to the Thessalonians (the earliest extant letter of Paul that we have) Paul seemed to be saying that the second and final coming of the Lord was imminent although he was careful not to specify a particular time.

Apparently replying to further questions, Paul (or the actual author) in this second letter does not repeat all that was said in the first letter about what would happen to the living and the dead. What is being written here is supplementary to Paul’s oral teaching and the instructions contained in the earlier letter. All he is concerned with is to emphasise that the coming is not imminent, and that it cannot take place till certain specific signs have preceded it.

Although the Second Coming is a major theme of this letter, Paul (or the author of the letter) warns the Christians not to “be shaken out of their minds” or alarmed by predictions (false prophecies) or rumours or spurious letters supposed to have come from him suggesting that the “day of the Lord” is already on them.

“Shaken out of their minds” translates a verb often used of a ship adrift from its moorings and suggests a lack of stability. Here it suggests a kind of panic at the supposed imminence of the Lord’s coming. The Christians are not to be deceived by such false alarms.

The expression “the day of the Lord” comes originally from the prophet Amos (5:18). In the Old Testament it is a time when God will come and intervene with judgement and/or blessing. In the New Testament the thought of judgement continues, but it is also the ‘day of redemption’, the ‘day of God’, or of Christ, and the ‘last day‘, the ‘great day’ or simply ‘the day‘. It is the climax of all things. There will be some preliminary signs but the coming will be as unexpected as that of “a thief in the night”.

In the second and final part of the reading, the author reminds the Christians to focus on the Gospel which has been preached to them and which has as its final purpose a sharing in the glory of Jesus Christ as Lord.

Jesus “has called you through our gospel”. “Our” gospel, that is, the gospel preached by Paul, Silas and Timothy and that they themselves had received by faith. It is, of course, first of all God the Father’s because it originates from him, and Christ’s because it springs from his sacrificial death.

Let them forget about worrying when this sharing in glory will actually take place and concentrate on living out the “traditions”, i.e., the teachings which they had received from Paul and the other apostles, either orally or in writing. This refers to what Paul taught them when he was in Thessalonika. What he had written to them since he returned from there, include, in the message of the Good News, the principles on which a Christian should lead his life.

Until the New Testament took its final form, essential Christian teaching was passed on in the “traditions” (a word which comes from the Latin ‘to hand on‘ or ‘hand over’), just as rabbinic law was and it could be either oral or written. The four gospels which we have now are basically built up from such written and oral ‘traditions’.

The passage ends with a lovely Pauline prayer, very similar to one in the same place in the first letter and which also includes the words ‘encourage’ and ‘strengthen’ (1 Thess 3:11-13). The prayer is for inner strength that will produce results in both action and speech.

It is a prayer we could say often for each other and for all those we know and love (or find it difficult to love):

May our Lord Jesus Christ himself,

and God our Father who has given us his love

and, through his grace, such inexhaustible comfort

and such sure hope,

comfort you and strengthen you

in everything good that you do or say.

At every age in the Church’s history, including our own, there are people who are convinced that the end of the world is “nigh” and that Christ is coming in Judgement at any moment. Certain key periods, such as the end of a century or, even more, the end of a millennium, produces a veritable rash of such warnings. So far, they have never proved accurate.

We would be better off listening to the advice of today’s letter and focus our energies on living out the Gospel each day in truth and love. This is the best possible preparation we can make for that time which will come “like a thief in the night”.

And, as has been said more than once in these reflections, a much more realistic end for us to consider is that of our own life than that of the universe or our planet. In either case, however, the recommended advice is the same: live the Gospel day in and day out and the rest will take care of itself.

[almostafantasia]

life’s incredible again

Clexa Week Day 5 - Rivals in a Secret Relationship

Every city needs a superhero. This city has two.

Fierce rivals by day and lovers by night, Clarke and Lexa learn the struggles of leading a double life, particularly when it becomes impossible to stop their personal and professional lives from becoming entangled.

Read on AO3.

It’s one of the best feelings in the world.

At the speed that Clarke hurtles through the sky, the wind in her face is strong, striking her skin with a surprising numbness. Yet it’s only a shock for the first ten seconds of high altitude flight, after that it’s a refreshing rush in her face, pushing her hair out of her eyes so that it flickers in tandem with the deep blue cape that billows out behind her, fluttering rhythmically as she flies.

The world below Clarke manages to be both huge and tiny at the same time. Huge, because from up here the land stretches out seemingly infinitely, expanses of open fields and distant mountain ranges beyond the familiar skyline of the city that she calls home. And yet tiny, because the details below her are so comparatively miniscule from such an altitude – skyscrapers that would tower above her in the streets are so small that she could fit ten of them in the palm of her hand, lines of traffic pass along the roads like trains of ants marching back to their nest. It’s an eye-opening perspective into Planet Earth and Clarke loves it.

Flying is every bit as really fucking awesome as it sounds and Clarke is two hundred percent certain that she’ll never tire of it. Every flight feels just like the first one; exciting, exhilarating, and like Clarke is the star of her very own action movie. Contrary to popular belief, not every hero is blessed with the ability to fly – Clarke is just eternally grateful that she’s one of the ones who is because not only is it the most convenient mode of transport, but she looks wicked cool whilst doing it.

She hasn’t always been quite so adept at flying though. In fact, it took weeks, if not months to nail the perfect landing. Clarke still cringes internally every time she recalls her first ever public flight. The way that she mistimed the touchdown and oh-so-spectacularly crashed into a wall in front of about a billion photographers is almost certainly going to keep Clarke awake at night for years to come. Clarke’s superhero powers might stop her from getting any serious physical bruising but they do nothing to prevent the damage to her ego.

The newspaper headlines the following morning had been something else entirely. Clarke wanted to scream in rage when she saw them – she saved the lives of two young children that day, for Christ’s sake, and yet the front page of every major newspaper was emblazoned with a high definition photograph of her mid-crash, accompanied by a headline that inevitably ridiculed the absence of a heroic entrance.

And no matter how much Raven tries to convince her otherwise, being known as the girl who fell from the sky isn’t good for her superhero street cred.

“It could be your thing!” Raven insists.

“It’s not a thing!” Clarke protests with a whine, burying her face in her hands and once again dying a little bit inside as she recalls her collision with a wall and wishes she’d taken the time to practice a stylish landing before jetting out to save the world for the first time.

“No, hear me out,” says Raven “This is good.”

The look on Raven’s face, the wide eyes that tell Clarke that Raven is spouting her ridiculous ideas aloud right as they appear in her head, is enough for Clarke to know that what Raven has to tell her will be anything but good.

Rolling her eyes in anticipation of what will inevitably be a load of total crap, Clarke indulges Raven anyway.

“What?”

“Okay,” Raven says with a worrying amount of enthusiasm, “but what if you make a thing out of crashing in unexpectedly to bust the villains. Like you drop in through the ceiling and then when the dust from the rubble has cleared, you say ‘sorry about the mess’ and then bam! Arrested! Villainy over.”

Clarke has no words, rendered speechless from the pure insanity of the words leaving Raven’s mouth.

“Do you know what that is?” Raven asks, bright-eyed, when Clarke gives her suggestion no verbal response.

“It’s stupid,” Clarke answers without hesitation.

“Badass!” Raven corrects her enthusiastically. “It’s badass, Clarke. Do you want to be swept under the rug with every other hero or do you want to be iconic?”

“The girl who fell from the sky, Raven,” Clarke says with a whine. “I can’t be that hero. It’s way too Hunger Games to be credible.”

“Skygirl,” Raven suggests, bright-eyed and full of an enthusiasm that Clarke finds herself unable to mirror. “Come on, that sounds cool and you know it.”

And thus, Skygirl is born.

It’s one of the worst feelings in the world.

Clarke arrives at the scene of a major bank robbery that Raven tipped her off about to find that the day has already been saved by another superhero. The road is blocked with almost half a dozen police cars and the sidewalk outside the bank is crowded – emergency personnel including a squad of men with riot shields and heavy rifles strapped to their sides, reporters trying to force their way closer despite the bulky camera equipment that each team has, curious passers-by wondering what is causing the interruption to their perfectly ordinary lives.

Yet despite the crowds outside the bank, Clarke only notices one person. The red cape of the Commander amidst the reporters clamouring for the perfect front page headline has Clarke’s insides twisting in an unsettling mixture of disappointment and anger.

“Raven,” Clarke hisses, pressing the button on the tiny piece of technology concealed inside her ear to activate it.

After a couple of seconds, Raven’s familiar voice crackles through the earpiece.

“This is The Raven to Skygirl. What’s up?”

“Putting ‘the’ in front of your own name doesn’t make it a code name,” Clarke reminds Raven dismissively, before she launches into the reason why she requested her assistant’s presence in her ear. “But what the hell, Raven? I’m not the first one here. What went wrong?”

“What went wrong?” Raven parrots back, incredulity in her voice. “The situation has been sorted, right?”

“Well yes, but…”

“Then nothing went wrong,” Raven interrupts Clarke’s complaints with a sense of finality and a so-done-with-your-bullshit edge to her tone.

“But it wasn’t me who saved the day,” Clarke whines in an attempt to gain some sympathy, despite the futility of arguing against Raven. “The Commander…”

“And there it is,” says Raven. “The Commander.”

Clarke’s insides lurch with guilt. She can face off against any number of villains, and yet her biggest rival always seems to be the one person who has exactly the same goals as her – to keep this city as safe and as crimeless as possible.

Feuds between superheroes never end well. Just last year there was a huge scandal that decorated the headlines for weeks when a rivalry in a neighbouring city became so out of control that the two heroes involved ended up putting more lives at risk than they were saving. Clarke likes to think that she would never be self-absorbed enough to let things between Skygirl and the Commander get quite that bad – for a start, neither of them has a fragile male ego to escalate the contention between them – but she knows why Raven is warning her all the same.

Clarke’s pride, however, is an ugly creature that sucks the life out of anything positive in the face of a defeat such as this. She can feel it now, slowly crawling out from hibernation and enveloping every fibre of her being like a cloud of dark fog, crackling with negative energy and draining her brain of all humility and common sense.

“She got here first, Raven,” Clarke complains, even against all her better judgement. “Not only is this a complete waste of my time, but I have to suffer through the knowledge that she is the hero today. If only it was heroic to wipe that smug smile off her face with my fist.”

“Clarke…” Raven cautions her, the harshness of her warning in Clarke’s ear causing Clarke to wince.

“I don’t understand it,” Clarke continues to whine, even despite the warnings coming from both her assistant and the rational part of her own brain. “She can’t even fly. How the hell is that stupid ass car of hers faster than flying?”

“Clarke, just put on a smile and…” Raven pauses and lets out a huff of breath, before she continues, “… get yourself out of there before you do something stupid that will do much more damage to your reputation than being beaten to the scene of the crime by another hero.”

“Too late,” Clarke mumbles, pressing the button on the earpiece to mute herself and mentally preparing herself for what is about to come when she spots a familiar figure striding in her direction, dressed in all black with the exception of the crimson cape that hangs majestically from one shoulder.

“Skygirl,” the newcomer greets her with a nod.

“Commander,” Clarke responds through clenched teeth. “Congratulations.”

Clarke isn’t sure what is more infuriating to her, the Commander’s nonchalant shrug or the words that leave her mouth next, clearly intended to rile Clarke up.

“Just another day at work,” the Commander says indifferently. “I do what I can for my people.”

“Your people?” Clarke scoffs, unable to stop herself from commenting on the pretentiousness of the Commander’s words.

“My people, your people, the people of this city,” shrugs the Commander. “Whatever you want to call them. When they need a hero, I’m here to serve them.”

Clarke narrows her eyes, ignoring the persistent beeping in her ear that lets her know that Raven is still desperately trying to speak with her so that she can give the Commander her full attention.

“It was just a bank robbery,” she attempt to diminish the Commander’s accomplishment today. “It’s not like there were any lives actually in danger.”

“Say that to the man who got shot in the leg while the robbers made their escape,” the Commander replies without even a moment of hesitation, unaffected by Clarke’s scornful words. “And just a bank robbery was an attempt to steal almost thirty million dollars. If they had been successful, that would have been the biggest bank robbery that this city has ever seen.”

With a smile of blatantly forced politeness, Clarke replies snidely, “What a good job you were here to save the day.”

Either the Commander doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm in Clarke’s voice, or she just chooses to be the better person and ignore it – Clarke resents her even more if the latter is true – because she does nothing but shrug modestly as she takes a couple of steps back.

“I guess so,” she agrees. “See you later, Skygirl.”

Ignoring the flash of the cameras pointed at her from where the press huddle in a group on the sidewalk, the Commander returns to her vehicle, a flashy black sports car with doors that open upwards instead of out, an unnecessary number of vents and spoilers and a slightly off-centre red stripe that spans the length of the car that is just as obnoxious as the vehicle’s owner.

Finally choosing to no longer ignore the beeping in her ear, Clarke turns her earpiece back onto its normal setting and doesn’t even wait for half a second before growling her complaints to Raven.

“I hope you’re proud of me. I was this close to punching her.”

“Careful, Clarke,” says Raven, making no attempt to hide her huff of irritation. “The girl who fell from the sky is probably only one negative headline away from ruination.”

“I know,” agrees Clarke, “and that’s why I kept my hands to myself.”

Even as she says the words, Clarke finds herself rolling her eyes as the engine of the black and red sports car starts up, revving loudly a couple of times, before the car zips away down the road in the blink of an eye, almost wishing that her fist had found its home in the warpaint adorned face of her rival.

“The biggest attempted bank robbery this city has ever seen,” she whines for Raven’s benefit, recalling the Commander’s earlier words. “Why couldn’t it have been me who got there first?”

“We’ll get the next one, I promise,” says Raven’s assuring voice in her ear.

Clarke is almost certain that always arriving second to the scene will be just as damning for her reputation as punching another superhero in the face.

“We’d better!”

In her twenty four years of life, and particularly in the last eight months of carrying the burdens of the city on her shoulder, Clarke has come to learn that one of the best ways to deal with a bad day is to take up residence in a dark corner of a bar and drown her sadness in a drink or several.

One drink allows her to be sullen and disheartened by the day’s loss, two gives her an excuse for cursing like a sailor and badmouthing the villain who has wronged her, three takes her mind off the thing that’s getting her down. Four drinks are often enough to get Clarke up on her feet and dancing to forget her troubles.

Tonight Clarke is only on her first drink – a pint of dark ale with a taste as bitter as Clarke’s feelings of resentment for her rival hero. The lighting in the bar isn’t quite gloomy enough to reflect her mood – it’s not late enough in the night for the proprietor to turn the lights down properly yet – but Clarke uses the beer in her hand as a barrier between herself and the rest of the room. Her body is slumped back against the bench in the booth that she occupies with two of her best friends, blocking out their conversations as she takes sip after meagre sip, each one accompanied by a grimace at the taste of the ale that Clarke isn’t entirely sure she even likes.

At the risk of being melodramatic, Clarke decides that today may have been one of her worst defeats as a superhero – perhaps almost worse than losing to the bad guys themselves. (Deep down, Clarke knows that isn’t true, but her ego still aches from the battering it received at the hands of the Commander and her offensively flashy sports car and so the humiliation feels infinitely worse than any of her previous failures.)

“Hey, Sulkface!”

Clarke is snatched roughly out of her own crippling self-pity by the way that Raven aggressively snaps her fingers in front of Clarke’s face, forcing her to pay attention to her surroundings instead of wallowing in the defeat she faced earlier today.

“Are you going to participate in the conversations or are you just going to sulk in a corner and make us regret bringing you along with us?” Raven asks her, one of her eyebrows quirked up in a judgemental arch.

“What’s the matter?” asks Octavia, placing her drink down on the table that the three of them are seated around and leaning on one of her elbows to frown across at Clarke.

“She realised that she’s only a second rate hero,” Raven unhelpfully interjects, rolling her eyes.

“Excuse me?” Clarke exclaims, raising her voice and accompanying her verbal retaliation with a sharp kick under the table aimed at Raven’s shin and taking a small amount of joy from the yelp of pain that Raven lets out. “I’m a first rate hero, you’re a second rate assistant.” Pointing an accusatory finger in Raven’s direction, Clarke continues, “You didn’t call me soon enough. You didn’t make my suit aerodynamic enough.”

“Your suit is aerodynamic enough,” Raven bickers back, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms across her chest in indignance. “And there’s nothing I can do if somebody else gets there before you do.”

They sulk on opposite sides of the table, Octavia the awkward third party with her eyes flickering between Raven’s folded arms and Clarke, who picks up her glass and passive-aggressively takes a gulp of the dark liquid within. When neither of them says anything – and when Octavia lets out a disapproving sigh at their childish behaviour – Clarke realises that maybe she was a little too harsh with her words and concedes.

“I know,” she admits reluctantly, placing her empty glass back down on the table and looking up at Raven. “I’m sorry. It’s just … it has to be her, doesn’t it? Always having to prove that she’s better than I am.”

Accepting Clarke’s verbal olive branch, Raven’s mouth turns up at the corners almost imperceptibly and says, “I bet she doesn’t fly into walls with as much style as you do.”

Clarke flops backwards, her head falling against the wall behind her chair as she lets out a pained groan in response to Raven’s little dig. The animosity between them is replaced with playful teasing that Clarke has grown to love in her relationship with her two best friends.

“God,” Clarke whines, as Raven and Octavia share a look and some barely concealed laughter between them. “that was one time.”

Octavia reaches across with both hands and uses the index finger of each to push at the soft skin of Clarke’s cheeks, forcing her lips up into a smile.

“Cheer up, Clarke,” she says, undeterred by the way that Clarke whines and wriggles and slaps at the hands on her face. “You’ve got a date tonight.”

“Ugh,” Clarke groans, falling back in her chair as Octavia’s hands finally relinquish their attack on her face. “Don’t remind me. I hate first dates.”

“But,” Raven interjects, raising a single finger to emphasise her point, “you know what you do like?” Raven looks across to Octavia and then answers her own question as if the answer is obvious. “Sex. And what do first dates sometimes lead to?”

“Sex,” Octavia answers without hesitation, nodding along with Raven. She adds matter-of-factly, “You’ve been going through a dry spell recently Clarke. Maybe this date will be good for you.”

Pouting, Clarke replies abjectly, “Four months is not a dry spell.”

Raven and Octavia share a glance of wide-eyed incredulity as if to say oh yes it is, before Raven mumbles under her breath, “Maybe for you it’s not.”

If Raven and Octavia are trying to bring Clarke out of her sulk and encourage her to join in with their conversations with any kind of genuine enthusiasm, they’re doing an awful job. Clarke only ends up feeling sorrier for herself, taking another mournful swig from her glass at the reminder that her personal life is about as successful as her recent heroic endeavours.

Clarke’s lack of a verbal response is as good of a concession as her actually admitting aloud that Raven is right. Clarke pointedly ignores the grin that is shared between the two girls opposite her, desperately hoping that they will take this small victory and leave it at that. Her hope is misguided however – Clarke should really know after so many years of tight friendship that these two will never pass up an opportunity for a little harmless teasing at Clarke’s expense.

“Tonight could be the night, Clarke!” Raven says enthusiastically, leaning across the table with both elbows propped up on the dark wood as she gives Clarke a look of bright-eyed glee.

“Oh yeah,” comes Octavia’s equally unhelpful contribution. “Tonight Clarke is gonna be getting some!”

“Clarke? Hi!”

As a shadow falls over their table, Clarke propels both of her legs outward, the toe of her shoe colliding with the front of her friends’ legs, and feels only a tiny bit guilty about the fact that Raven is probably going to wake up tomorrow morning with a littering of purple bruises down her shins courtesy of Clarke. It has the desired effect – both Raven and Octavia stop with the raucous teasing and the crude hand gestures and fall quiet with just a few soft murmurings of discomfort as they rub the sore spots where Clarke has kicked them.

“Lexa,” Clarke says enthusiastically, her sullen mood from just seconds ago forgotten and replaced, jumping to her feet and greeting her date with a slightly awkward one-armed hug. “It’s so nice to see you! I promise I don’t know these two hooligans at all. Anything you might have overheard them saying is entirely untrue.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Lexa assures her with an honest smile. Gesturing towards the bar, she asks, “Shall we?”

Clarke nods and lets Lexa lead her over to the bar, ignoring Raven’s shout after her of, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Clarke takes a deep breath to compose herself, unsure where the nerves that twist and clench at her insides have come from so suddenly. Barely even a minute ago she was unaffected by the prospect of tonight’s date, cataloguing it in her mind as nothing more than a waste of an evening that could otherwise be spent in the comfort of her own bed with a bag of chips and her Netflix account, but with her date for the evening standing beside her – her totally gorgeous date who is without a doubt completely out of Clarke’s league – Clarke is grateful, for the first time, for her past self’s impulsive decision to say yes when Lexa asked her out.

Clarke takes in her date’s appearance, from the sheer white top that hangs loosely from her shoulders to the black skinny jeans that flatter her long legs. Lexa’s hair is effortlessly brushed over one shoulder so that the deep brown curls tumble down one side and her makeup is understated, a slight smoky eye that makes the green of her irises pop with colour, even in the dim light of the bar.

“You look great tonight,” Clarke compliments her.

“Thanks, so do you,” Lexa replies with a smile. Reaching into the small black purse that hangs from her shoulder, Lexa pulls out a wallet and leans on the wooden countertop of the bar, then asks, “Can I buy you a drink?”

Clarke fumbles around for her own wallet in protest, saying as she does so, “It’s fine, I can pay for…”

“No, I insist,” Lexa tells her, placing a gentle hand on Clarke’s arm to stop her from continuing the search for her own money. “Please, I’m trying to be charming and I probably can’t do that with conversation alone when I’m this nervous! You can buy the next drink. What will you have?”

Clarke reluctantly concedes defeat and picks up the cocktail menu that sits on the bar in front of them. She browses for just a few seconds, angling the menu so that Lexa can take a look for herself, then points at her order.

“Two mojitos, please,” Lexa tells the bartender, who starts mixing their drinks with a nod.

“Thanks,” Clarke mumbles gratefully. With the barest hint of a teasing smile beginning to form on her lips, she nudges Lexa softly and says, “Who says I’m not going to flee before we get to a second drink?”

Lexa doesn’t answer immediately – with the arrival of their drinks on the bar, she spends a few moments exchanging the right amount of cash with the bartender, then picks up her own glass and nods for Clarke to do the same before she speaks again.

“So I have however long it takes for you to finish this drink to convince you to stay for another one?” she asks Clarke, raising the glass to her face and taking a small sip through the straw. “Challenge accepted.”

As Lexa points to an empty booth across the room, thankfully one that is far away from where Octavia and Raven still sit, their eyes on Clarke as they avidly watch her every move, Clarke smiles to herself and tells Lexa, “Then you need to act fast. You should know that I used to be something of a drinking champion. At college I could down a beer in seven seconds.”

Lexa’s face, as they take their new seats opposite each other at the secluded table in the far corner, expresses a mixture of awe and amusement.

“Wow.”

Realising what she’s just said – and who she’s just admitted that to – Clarke feels her cheeks reddening. The warm air in the bar, nor the alcohol in her system from the drink she’s already shared with Raven and Octavia, does nothing to help as her cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, that’s not the kind of thing I should be admitting on a first date,” she attempts to redeem herself, not quite able to look Lexa in the eye out of fear that she might see proof that she’s scared her date off already are mere minutes together. “I tend to babble when I’m nervous.”

Unperturbed and with a hint of a joke in her voice, Lexa doesn’t even hesitate before saying, “Maybe you’ll scare me away before you have the chance to buy that second drink.”

Clarke feels her entire body relax at Lexa’s words. She reaches out for her cocktail, fingers curling around the glass and slipping ever so slightly in the condensation formed by the cool liquid inside, raising the straw to her lips and taking a sip. It’s a pleasant contrast to the heat that burns in her cheeks, a cooling sensation that is more than welcome.

“I hope not!” Clarke responds. “I promise, that’s not my plan tonight.”

Lexa leans one elbow on the table, looking at Clarke with glinting green eyes from beneath long lashes as she lowers her voice and asks, “So what is your plan?”

She wraps her lips around the straw protruding from her drink, and Clarke forgets how to breathe as she watches Lexa’s cheeks hollow in a visual that Clarke didn’t realise she’d be attracted to until she saw it in front of her. Her mind straying to places she’s pretty sure are supposed to be forbidden this early on a first date, Clarke is finally grateful for the blush that already taints her cheeks, hiding the fresh embarrassment that accompanies her thoughts.

“I’m not sure there is a plan,” Clarke confesses. Gripping the edge of the table to tether herself to reality, she continues, “But I’d like to make a good impression on you.” Clarke looks up at Lexa with a hint of mischief in her eyes, and then adds, “Which is why you should know that I have absolutely never downed an entire beer in one go.”

Lexa tips her head back and laughs, a delicate burst of laughter that seems to radiate euphoria. Clarke decides that it’s one of the most beautiful sounds she’s ever heard, unexpectedly soft and yet it warms Clarke right to her soul and fills her with a desire – no, a need – to hear that same sound over and over again.

Her eyes full of intrigue, Lexa asks Clarke, “And if I’m into the beer guzzling types?”

Clarke can’t do anything to stop the grin that spreads across her face as she quips back, “Then maybe you’re on a date with the right girl.”

“So,” says Lexa, a smile pulling at her own lips. “Drinking champion. What else do I need to know about you before I commit to that second drink?”

“Let me see,” says Clarke, feigning deep concentration as she starts to list things off by counting on her fingers. “I’m a cocaine addict. I steal money from the homeless.” She grins across at Lexa to reinforce the fact that she’s joking, as if it isn’t already abundantly clear, then adds, “Oh, and I voted for Trump!”

Unperturbed, Lexa doesn’t hesitate for even a fraction of a second before completing Clarke’s list with one of her own, “And you use comedy as a defence mechanism when somebody tries to get close to you.”

The smile falls off Clarke’s face as suddenly as a lead weight falling to the ground. Taken aback by Lexa’s terrifyingly accurate assessment of the situation, it takes Clarke a good few seconds to regain her composure enough to give her response.

“Well, shit,” she says, guiltily dropping her gaze as she finds herself unable to make eye contact with the girl across from her. “Am I that easy to read?”

“I took a Psychology elective in my freshman year of college and now I half-think I’m qualified to be some kind of therapist,” Lexa shrugs. “But I’m serious, I want to get to know you. The real you.”

Clarke dares to glance up at Lexa and is met with a stare of the utmost honesty, so intense that she almost feels like there is something passing between them. Clarke is struck by thoughts of capes and masks and saving the world and her heart does a little flip in her chest that she’s not entirely convinced is caused by butterflies alone. She wonders just how much of her Lexa wants to get to know, or if she’s talking about the Skygirl persona too.

And she knows that Lexa feels it too, because Lexa’s gaze falters and a moment of weakness passes between them, and Clarke wonders for the first time if maybe going on this date is a terrible idea after all.

Clarke is used to saving people every day but it is Lexa who saves the conversation, reaching across the table and taking Clarke’s fingers in her own. She gives the digits a little squeeze, leaning a little bit closer to Clarke as she says ever so softly, “I want to see if I’m as attracted to what’s going on up there as I am to what I see on the outside.”

“Flatterer.”

“Please? I’m serious.”

Clarke can stop villains from doing heinous things, she can rescue people from inside burning buildings that threaten to creak and crumble to the ground or pull them from the twisted wreck of an automobile accident without even thinking twice, but she will never ever be able to save herself from the inescapable magnetism of a beautiful girl holding her hand and looking at her with those earnest eyes that could hold an entire galaxy in their depth.

“Okay,” Clarke says, taking a deep breath to steady her thoughts. “So I grew up in New York. The state not the city…”

There isn’t even a question in Clarke’s mind about a second drink when the time comes. She finishes her first far too quickly to be satisfied with just the one, so enraptured by her date and the conversations they share that she’s pretty sure a continuation of this date beyond the first drink is as much of a necessity for her survival as the oxygen that she breathes into her lungs.

Clarke makes the offer when both of their glasses are empty and she exhales in relief when Lexa agrees almost immediately; her only hesitation is a quick joke about Clarke having not quite scared her away completely yet.

They dance around the subject of work with ease. Like a stream winding its way down the mountainside, gradually gaining momentum as it travels further away from its source, the conversation keeps going with each twist, flowing effortlessly from the topics of school and family and favourite things, right down to who they would cast as themselves in a movie about their own life – Kate McKinnon for Clarke and Daisy Ridley for Lexa. There’s no need to talk about work when they could quite easily talk all night, and perhaps every other night for the rest of the month, without even getting close to exhausting the conversation of other subject matter.

There is just the tiniest amount of unease in Clarke’s stomach though. It feels like they should maybe at least acknowledge it, even for just a second before moving on, a quick hey I’m a superhero and I know that you are too and yes, maybe I raged a little bit earlier today when you stole my glory but how about we agree to another date?

When Lexa excuses herself to go and use the bathroom after drink number two, Clarke finally lets herself relax a little bit and slouches against the back of her seat. She reaches for her phone for the first time all evening, surprised when the screen lights up to tell her that the date that has raced past and felt like a mere twenty minutes or so, has actually been going on for almost an hour and a half.

The grin that she’s trying – and failing – to fight back, gets wiped off her faced with an unpleasant abruptness as not Lexa, but both Raven and Octavia drop into the bench on the other side of Clarke’s booth.

“Soooo,” Raven draws out the vowel, and the look of mischievous curiosity on her face has Clarke rolling her eyes. “How is it going?”

“It’s good,” Clarke admits, nodding her head slowly. It takes a lot of willpower, and the knowledge that Lexa’s return from the bathroom could be imminent, to stop herself from immediately gushing about what an enjoyable night she’s having. “I like her. She’s very easy to talk to.”

“And hot!” Octavia adds, reaching across the table to give Clarke a congratulatory nudge on the arm. “Nice one, Clarke.”

Clarke can’t help but smile because yes, the conversation with Lexa has been enthralling, but the view that she’s had all evening has certainly not gone unappreciated either.

“So what’s the plan?” Raven asks. Wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and accompanied by what can only be described as a giggle from Octavia, she continues, “Are you going to take her home for a little bit of…?”

“What?” Clarke interjects in protest as soon as she realises what her friends are implying. “No!”

Raven looks genuinely disappointed as she pouts and asks, “Why not?”

“Because…” Clarke spares a glance over her shoulder in the direction of the bathroom to make sure that Lexa isn’t on her way back, then answers, “Because I actually like her. As in I like her enough to want to see her again and I don’t want to screw that up by … well, by screwing her.”

Raven does nothing but stare at Clarke for a few long seconds, her head tilted ever so slightly to one side and her expression bordering on unimpressed.

“That is literally the gayest,” Raven says these two words emphatically, gesticulating with her hand as she does so, “thing I have ever heard in my life.”

“Agreed,” nods Octavia, arms folded across her chest and her expression as serious as it would be if they were discussing something with slightly more substance than Clarke’s current level of gay.

They both still immediately, then hurry back up to their feet, shuffling awkwardly along the bench until they are no longer sitting opposite Clarke, and when she follows the direction that both pairs of eyes keep glancing across in, she notices that Lexa is making her way back across the bar from the ladies restroom.

“Anyway,” Raven says to Clarke, “we actually came over here to tell you that we’re going home now.”

“Yeah,” agrees Octavia. “Enjoy the rest of you night.”

“Use protection!” Raven wickedly blurts out, before the pair make a hasty departure just as Lexa arrives back at the booth.

Clarke’s cheeks burn with embarrassment at her friend’s parting words, knowing that there isn’t a possibility that Lexa didn’t hear them too.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke is quick in her attempt to justify Raven’s words. The very last thing she wants Lexa to think after hitting it off so well tonight is that Clarke is only interested in her for the sex. “They’re idiots. If I haven’t scared you away yet then I’m sure that they will.”

As she lowers herself back into the seat across from Clarke, Lexa reaches across the table and rests her hand over Clarke’s. The touch is unexpected and Clarke startles slightly at first, but there’s a warmth that radiates from Lexa’s touch, a soothing rush of something that spreads along Clarke’s arm from the place where their hands meet, until the comfort of the gesture envelopes her entire body and causes her to relax.

“My foster sister is exactly the same,” Lexa tells Clarke, her voice low and just as comforting as the way that her thumb starts rubbing tender circles on the soft skin of the back of Clarke’s hand. “I share an apartment with her and she’s been insufferable to live with ever since she found out that I had a date tonight. She’s been giving me unhelpful and inappropriate advice for the last two days.”

“Such as?” Clarke dares to ask.

Lexa shakes her head ever so slowly and, as a pretty pink flush starts to decorate her own sharp cheekbones, answers, “Such as what kind of underwear I should wear.”

Clarke flusters a little at the implication – there’s only one direction that tonight could go in to make Lexa’s choice of underwear relevant on this date – and finds herself unable to make eye contact with Lexa. All of a sudden Raven and Octavia are voices in her head, two little devils costumed all in red on one of her shoulders and nudging her towards the bad decisions while the rational part of her own brain tries to counterbalance their corruption.

When Clarke gives no response, Lexa squeezes her hand gently and laughs softly as she says, “Don’t freak out. I’m not here to sleep with you.”

Clarke doesn’t know whether Lexa’s confession leaves her relieved or disappointed and realises that the way that her insides clench uncomfortably is probably due to a bitter internal battle between the two.

Manoeuvring the hand that still rests on top of Clarke’s until she can push her fingers between Clarke’s so that their hands sits as an intertwined knot of fingers on the table between them, Lexa lowers her voice even further and concludes in a voice that almost has Clarke spreading her legs for Lexa right here in this booth, “Not yet, anyway.”

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” Clarke warns Lexa, though the way that her voice comes out as barely more than a rasp is surely a giveaway as to the current direction of her thoughts.

“Sorry,” Lexa replies, though Clarke spots a little glint in the green eyes across from her that Lexa’s apology is not entirely full of meaning. Changing the subject suddenly, Lexa says, “I really don’t want tonight to end.”

“Why do I sense a ‘but’?” Clarke asks.

To Clarke’s ultimate chagrin, Lexa untangles their fingers and reaches for her phone, pressing the button to unlock it as she glances at the time when it flashes up on the screen.

“But it’s late, and I can’t have another drink without risking getting tipsy and I don’t want to end up saying something stupid that might blow my chances with you.”

“That would take a lot,” Clarke admits, and the slight widening of Lexa’s eyes as if she can’t believe that those words have just left Clarke’s mouth makes the slightly risqué confession entirely worth the butterflies in Clarke’s chest.

“I have things to do tomorrow morning,” Lexa say, and despite the intent behind her words, the hesitance in her voice is perhaps giving Clarke her own personal renaissance. “I should be getting back.”

Clarke nods, understanding that this date has to come to an end at some point, albeit reluctantly.

Perhaps misinterpreting Clarke’s unenthusiastic agreement as mild resentment towards her decision to leave, Lexa jumps in quickly, her words hurried and apologetic.

“Wait, I promise I’m not blowing you off!” she assures Clarke, reaching across to take Clarke’s hand once more as if she just can’t get enough of having Clarke’s fingers underneath her own. “I’ve had an incredible time tonight and if I could stay here for a few more hours then I would. Can I at least walk you home?” Without even allowing Clarke time to answer, Lexa flusters even further and then apologises, “Sorry, you probably think I’m trying something on with you. I promise that I’m not. I don’t really go on dates at all so I’m trying very hard to make this one count by being respectful and chivalrous, and that includes walking you home.”

Clarke’s heart, if possible, swells inside her chest as Lexa scrambles over her words, watching as the other girl’s cheeks get steadily pinker with each second that passes. She would perhaps be amused at Lexa’s unabashed eagerness to impress Clarke, were Clarke not feeling the same kind of irrepressible need to conclude this date in a way that leaves Lexa desperate to come back for more.

“Okay,” Clarke agrees, smiling slyly across at the flustered girl. “Under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You kiss me goodnight when we get there.”

A slow smile spreads across Lexa’s face.

“That’s a deal I can agree to.”

The journey home is more of a stroll that it is a walk. They dawdle along the sidewalk, entangled fingers swinging between them as they make their way to Clarke’s apartment, slowly so as to postpone the inevitable goodbye for as long as possible.

The streets that they walk along hold hundreds of stories and Lexa points out a shuttered ice cream parlour that her foster mother used to take her and her sister to when they were younger, and tells of how they would be allowed to get chocolate sauce and rainbow sprinkles on their cones if they’d been especially well-behaved. In exchange, Clarke makes Lexa laugh by recounting the story of an infamous night out in the nightclub that they pass just two blocks from Clarke’s apartment, when Octavia had been mistaken for some minor celebrity that none of them had heard of and gained them all exclusive access to the club’s VIP lounge.

But the night has to come to an end at some point, despite Clarke deliberately taking them the long way home, and the final turn onto the familiar stretch of sidewalk leading up to Clarke’s apartment building is a sad one.

Clarke says nothing as she leads Lexa into the atrium of her building and into the elevator, still prolonging their evening together, and Lexa stays silent too, squeezing Clarke’s hand just a little bit tighter as the doors close behind them and the tinny female voice announces over the intercom that the elevator is going up.

With their combined refusal to acknowledge that they will have to part ways sooner than either would like, Clarke realises how easy it would be to ignore the goodbye altogether and just drag Lexa inside her apartment for a much steamier continuation of the date. She remembers what Lexa said earlier about not intending to sleep with Clarke yet and recalls her own conversation with Raven and Octavia along the same vein. What she told them was true – after such a surprisingly good date, she doesn’t want to fuck it up by having sex too soon – but in this moment it almost feels like it could be detrimental for them to not seal the deal tonight.

Detrimental to Clarke’s lady parts, anyway, which are practically aching with the need to be touched by the girl so obliviously holding her hand as they take the ride up to Clarke’s apartment.

The invasive ping of the elevator as it arrives on Clarke’s floor snaps Clarke out of her thoughts and she shakes her head to bring herself back into the reality of attempted rational thought. She really needs to stop thinking with her vagina instead of her brain.

“This is me.”

The two seconds that Clarke spends fumbling around in her jacket pocket for the keys to her apartment is long enough for Lexa to take a step closer. She releases Clarke’s hand, and Clarke has barely a second to mourn the loss of the feeling of Lexa’s warm fingers slotted between her own, before those same fingers find a new home cupping Clarke’s jaw. Her fingertips rest just behind Clarke’s ear, where the soft curls at her hairline meet the skin of her neck, while Lexa’s thumb strokes a gentle path back and forth across Clarke’s cheek.

If Lexa’s goal is to leave Clarke in complete agony while she waits for the gap between their lips to close, then she is successful. Clarke’s entire body thrums in anticipation and the feeling of Lexa’s palm cradling the side of her face is certainly not helping the matter, yet Lexa seems unwilling to lean in the final few inches, apparently perfectly content to continue staring at Clarke with a look of gentle wonder in her eyes and the ghost of a smile on her lips.

It seems like an eternity that they are staring at each other. The time in which their eyes remain connected - mouths almost close enough to touch but neither one quite brave enough to make that final move – is long enough for generations to be born and to die, long enough for some species to go extinct and for others to evolve unrecognisably, long enough for entire civilisations to fall until they are the only two remaining, standing pressed against each other as the ruins of humanity crumble around them.

But it’s not quite enough.

With a little grunt of impatience, Clarke tilts her own chin up and closes the gap between them. Lexa’s lips, so much softer than Clarke could have ever imagined, cushion the impact and for a moment Clarke is stunned into stillness, wonderstruck by the overwhelming tenderness of Lexa’s lips and Lexa’s hand and Lexa’s everything.

The way that Lexa kisses her, the complete lack of urgency in the way that her lips slide leisurely against Clarke’s, is almost as if they are the only two people in the world. Certainly, Clarke decides, Lexa is the only person in the world that matters right now – nothing is more important than the lips that gently coax her own open, capturing first Clarke’s top, then her bottom lips between Lexa’s own. To Clarke, whose day to day life is always cloaked with the knowledge that Skygirl could get called away to an emergency at any moment, the kiss is a welcome moment of respite from the endless activity that comes with being a superhero.

As delightful as the kiss is, as much as her insides are fluttering at the gentle movement of Lexa’s mouth against her own, Clarke can’t help but want more. The kiss is nice, but it’s just nice – Lexa is being just a little too respectful of Clarke’s boundaries when after so much build up, Clarke is itching for nothing more than to make out with Lexa against the door to her apartment, hot and hungry and so very gay.

The sound of Clarke’s keys dropping from her hands and hitting the floor with a metallic clatter is one that barely even registers. All of Clarke’s brain capacity, or at least what little of it hasn’t been turned into a mushy gay puddle by Lexa’s kiss, is focused on the way that her empty hands curl into the folds of Lexa’s top, using her new handholds to simultaneously pull Lexa closer so that there is no space between their bodies and walk her backwards. Any doubt that Clarke might have had about Lexa being into this as much as her are dispelled as Lexa opens her mouth into the kiss more, accepting the swipe of Clarke’s tongue against her upper lip and responding with an intensity that had been lacking just moments ago.

There’s a bit more substance to the kiss now that Clarke is in control, a breathy whimper from Lexa as Clarke backs her into the door, a satisfied hum from Clarke when one of Lexa’s hands fervently buries itself in the untamed blonde curls on the back of her head. Clarke kisses Lexa with almost everything that she’s got, kisses her with her entire body and not just with her mouth – her restless hands smooth up and down Lexa’s sides, her hips push forward into Lexa’s to eliminate any space that might still lie between them. And Lexa responds with just as much enthusiasm, kissing Clarke back as though her life depends on it.

(Clarke is pretty sure that her life depends on Lexa’s kisses, fuelled with a fiery intensity but still laced with a sweet tenderness that seems to encompass Lexa’s being, and the reciprocation of that dependence through Lexa’s movements has Clarke feeling pretty damn good about herself too.)

It almost gets a little too much – almost – and Clarke has to take a moment to catch the breath that Lexa seems to have snatched from her lungs.

Lexa, however, takes Clarke’s momentary pause to take the control back for herself. She uses the hand not buried in Clarke’s hair to steer Clarke by the waist until is it Clarke’s back that is now against the door, then wastes no time at all in peppering the exposed skin of Clarke’s neck with a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses. Clarke lets out a low hum of contentment as her head falls back against the door and her eyes flicker shut – she likes the gentle back and forth of their kisses and the not so gentle way that Lexa scrapes her teeth against the skin just below the plane of Clarke’s jawline.

“You should know that it’s taking all of my self-restraint to – uh, to not drag you inside right now,” Clarke muses aloud, her breath catching slightly in her throat mid-sentence as Lexa’s tongue traces over a particularly sensitive spot just below Clarke’s ear.

Lexa places one more lingering kiss at the juncture between the corner of Clarke’s jaw and her neck, then forcibly drags herself away from Clarke, who feels a sudden rush of desire course through her body in response to the little grunt of disappointment that Lexa lets out as she reluctantly detaches her hands from Clarke’s body and puts a bit of distance between them.

“That wasn’t an invitation to stop,” Clarke jokes, though the smile quickly drops from her face when Lexa looks up with a heaving chest and pupils so wide they could swallow the whole universe.

“Wow,” Lexa exhales. “I’m kind of … well … yeah.”

It’s not an articulate way for Lexa to express herself – in fact it’s completely incoherent as a sentence – but Clarke gets it. She feels pretty inarticulate herself right now too.

“I’ve honestly had the best time tonight,” confesses Lexa. “I was … I was nervous, I have to admit, but you far surpassed all of my expectations.” She looks up at Clarke, teeth nibbling at her lower lip in anxiety, before she continues, “I know there’s a rule that the heterosexuals have where they have to wait three days before calling after a first date…”

“Screw the heterosexuals,” Clarke interrupts with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m so glad you said that.” Lexa shoots Clarke a shy smile, then with a more serious expression on her face, continues, “Because I’d really like to see you again and I don’t think I can wait three days before telling you that.”

Trying not to seem too excited, which almost seems futile with the way that her heart is currently performing an Olympic gymnastics routine inside her chest, Clarke replies, “I’d like that too.”

“Great,” says Lexa, breaking out a visible sigh of relief. “So I’ll text you?”

“I’ll be waiting,” nods Clarke.

“Bye, Clarke,” says Lexa, taking a couple of steps backwards towards the elevator. “And thanks for an incredible night.”

“Lexa…”

Upon hearing her name, Lexa’s eyes flicker upwards to look at Clarke’s, and Clarke surges forwards to close the gap between them, desperate to give Lexa one final kiss to remember her by. Her hands find Lexa’s waist and she kisses Lexa with an open mouth, the kiss itself just as filthy as the sound that spills from Lexa’s throat.

Once satisfied that Lexa isn’t going to forget tonight in a hurry, Clarke slowly pulls back, letting her hands drop from Lexa’s waist and bending down to pick up the dropped key.

“Bye,” she says, before turning to slot the key into the lock of the door to her apartment, smiling to herself at the memory of Lexa’s eyes dark, watching her with hunger.

Once inside her apartment, Clarke fusses around with nothing in particular. She takes off her shoes and leaves them by the door, then hangs her jacket over the back of a chair. Her mouth is dry and she takes a tall glass down from one of the shelves in the kitchen, filling it with cold water and draining most of it in one long gulp.

But her hands are restless, as is her mind, still reeling from the kisses with Lexa just on the other side of her front door. Without any further thought, Clarke reaches for her phone and taps out a quick text, unable to wait any longer to talk to Lexa.

Clarke Griffin So I don’t think I can wait for your text. Tonight was the most fun I’ve had in a while and I can’t wait to see you again. Get home safe!

Clarke panics as soon as she presses send, worried that she’s coming on too strong and that she’s going to scare Lexa away, but her fear only last for a handful of seconds, because her screen lights up with a message from Lexa.

Lexa Woods Dream of me!

Lexa’s text finishes with a kissing emoji, and Clarke falls back against the wall with a grin on her face.

Best date ever.

A/N: This has the potential to be extended into a multichapter fic. I'm not sure I have the time to continue it but if there's enough interest then it's definitely something that I'll consider.

[dog-day-morning]

WHAT THE HELL YOU SAY?? If you ascribe to the Lord's precept upon the precept's way of interpreting scripture livelihood you can conquer that 3 headed demon. 1 John 2:16 16 For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. Not too many of us have overcome these stalagmite sized thorn's so it gives reason to say that no one has truly overcome the world except those who've made it to the Kingdome. You gotta die in order to live. That's what they've been telling us since they enslaved us while they lived off of the fat of the lamb right here on Earth. It doesn't pain me to witness learned men of the Bible speak improbable things that aren't in accordance with the calling to be entrusted as a shepherd. Esau has found it upon himself to place his doctrine before God’s word. When your spiritual leaders become lovers of money it doesn't bode well for the parishioners of your Church that looks more like a cult whom Reverend No Good is playing with their financial contributions like it was 3 card monte every Sunday. I've not been corrupted with wealth by way of Mammon which has corrupted many in the Black clergy that in due time will make some believe they're God. That's cray cray. The Evangelical Rights vision of an all white Christian, Denomination Nation is being subjected to the scrutiny of every Black man who historically followed the teachings of their overseers. The people who have misled, and hated us no longer have a cover for their miscalculated deception to fall back on. In the eyes of God it was good for men to be revealed for their love of things that are temporal which have no worth, or meaningful value in the order of things. If the Kingdome has streets paved with gold, and we walk on them with our feet, what meaning taken from this premise that God has spelled out for Israel, and the gentile can you determine? 1 John 4:1-6 4 Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God: because many false prophets are gone out into the world. 2 Hereby know ye the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesseth that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God: 3 And every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God: and this is that spirit of antichrist, whereof ye have heard that it should come; and even now already is it in the world. 4 Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world. 5 They are of the world: therefore speak they of the world, and the world heareth them. 6 We are of God: he that knoweth God heareth us; he that is not of God heareth not us. Hereby know we the spirit of truth, and the spirit of error. The Spirit of Truth isn't what or who you believe it to be. God uses men to speak to His lost people yea though this Prophet’s in need of psychotherapy. I bear the burden of Israel's hatred, and frustration towards the God of Israel assuredly. But you as well as I must stand before the Lord God on the Day of Judgment to see if heaven will become our new address? This Nation has hated God's people much longer than the date of my birth, way before the mystery of God was revealed 3-4 generations ago in this day and time. The people of Edom have been trying to eliminate God's people off the Earth for the past 3 thousand years without actually thinking to themselves how can they maintain this planet without God behind this for we are not His people? Does the colloquial term biting off your nose to spite your face mean anything to you? If so, apply it right here. They’ve tried to destroy God's people, and they’re not wholly convinced that a man of questionable intelligence who's a case for Milledgeville; “Beyond the Tuskegee Experiment,” is the one chosen for such a hefty task? Have you seen pix of 45 walking through the white House with feces dripping from his Depends as though that crap was normal? I rest my case. I've questioned everything under the sun. The answer always goes

back to the Father. Esau, and his children have destroyed more Civilizations than they've built PERIOD!!! The Egyptians, and the Sumerians gave you astronomy, math, and languages, you still can't figure out how the Egyptians constructed the Pyramids of Giza. My God's people (Indigenous Blacks) invented the cotton gin which was a blessing to us in building, and establishing this global economy for your people. We invented the automobile, the telephone, the major component for the illuminating light bulb, the modern computer, including the internet. We invented the first Central Air and Heating unit. You stole everything from us, and after these brilliant men, and women passed, you kept all rights, and patents to their ingenuity, even if some of them were slaves this should've stayed in their family as generational wealth, and you refuse to even make us an offer of reparations which would be a slap in our face. trump did succeed in his greatest accomplishment. The destruction of Western Civilization as we all know it. I pity you not. Jeremiah 14:14 14 Then the Lord said unto me, The prophets prophesy lies in my name: I sent them not, neither have I commanded them, neither spake unto them: they prophesy unto you a false vision and divination, and a thing of nought, and the deceit of their heart. 1 Timothy 6:17-19 17 Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not highminded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy; 18 That they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate; 19 Laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life. You had Evangelical pastors losing it over the presidential election of 2020 who went out on a limb for a man whose broken all ten of the Ten Commandments including murder. Whattup Jeffrey Epstein?!! They openly supported an orange hobbit who brought down the house of Esau with their support. Paula white beat her hands so hard that night calling on the god of aboo daboo to bring the fallen angels from Africa on Mount Hermon to fight the battle to prolong WS; WTF?!! I saw a bevy of false prophets ministering in the name of white Jesus who lied saying God spoke to them in a dream Himself personally, declaring that trump would serve a 2nd term, and sit in the oval office again with his cronies while Rome finished burning to the ground. Biden who's just as racist as Bull Connor, but for the sake of political correctness we’ll call him a left wing, conservative moderate. Add it all up, and these people are gonna hate us forever. Yeshua is coming back for Israel; let us get that point across. You will have some of those who will cleave unto the house of Judah that's Israel who will enter New Jerusalem. But, this doesn't bode well for the majority of Edom or Israel. Only a remnant of the remnant shall enter into His glory that is Israel. All of those people who look like us, you know, they're our skinfolk, but they wouldn't accept an invitation to a family reunion unless the Grand Dragon of the kkk showed up dripping with the blood of twelve Black servicemen after your first cousin who's about 6 feet 2 damn B i i i i i G beat him to within an ounce of Jack Daniels proving that a retarded 9yr old with a degree in I hate Bubba can do all things through my doctor who prescribes me 200 grams of Crack. The high profile, low down political pundits, and elected officials who sell us out when the opportunity presents itself, are not Israel. These are the people who are getting paid filthy lucre to walk confederate with those that seek our blood. Some people have trouble sleeping because their job calls for them to prosecute their people unfairly as District Attorney’s. You have a conundrum to deal with, call on Maaco. You can be as Daniel Cameron desires, hoping to become what Kamala Harris has become with even higher aspirations or walk away from your white bread world, and your white zaddy, saving your soul in the process. Believe it or

not God gave me a conscience that's why He has told me to GET OUT!!! Or else. For those who heed these words which are straight interpretations from the Bible, walking with God beats running with the devil of which the remnant will see a reward. Isaiah 28:5 5 In that day shall the Lord of hosts be for a crown of glory, and for a diadem of beauty, unto the residue of his people. If Yeshua wasn't full of grace and mercy, willing to sacrifice Himself for a greater reward that is His Father’s inheritance; the Jew, and the other gentiles would suffer more so had He not been ransom for Israel, and their souls. As I mentioned, Esau, and Jacob are forever at odds. Jacob's not the problem. God has seen fit for some of Esau who are not of Edom, but walk in line with the Fathers people that will enter into His good graces along with Jacob who's the beginning, Esau’s the end. 2 Esdras 6:9 9 Now Esau is the end of this age, and Jacob is the beginning of the age that follows. If the minority who are the people of the caucasus mountains cant get along with this amount of Black people on Earth today, you're not Kingdome ready. Jacob's future is bright, and the angels in heaven are Dark Black. Balsamic Black. You must question yourselves, and be truthful. do you believe you're of the chosen elect? Forget I even asked. Romans 11:1-5 11 I say then, Hath God cast away his people? God forbid. For I also am an Israelite, of the seed of Abraham, of the tribe of Benjamin. 2 God hath not cast away his people which he foreknew. Wot ye not what the scripture saith of Elias? how he maketh intercession to God against Israel saying, 3 Lord, they have killed thy prophets, and digged down thine altars; and I am left alone, and they seek my life. 4 But what saith the answer of God unto him? I have reserved to myself seven thousand men, who have not bowed the knee to the image of Baal. 5 Even so then at this present time also there is a remnant according to the election of grace. Life's cruelties has taught me not to trust anyone, almost giving up on humanity save the Son of man who is my Savior, and even He has led me into stony, dry places because of my hardened heart that cannot keep thoughts to itself or maintain a compassionate level of human kindness. If this were 1961, and God chose someone with a sane mind he would've been dead before they blew out the 13th candle on his birthday cake. That's the psychosis of Edomites. The remnant doesn’t consist of Israel only, they happen to be the major portion. God will bless those who pass the test that is Tribulation with a robe of white, and a diadem of gold. Don't expect your favorite tele evangelical pastor who supported trump to walk into the Kingdome unless he has an epiphany of the truth that is Yeshua. Many men of Jacob will teach you whereas you've taught us about our history while revising its truth, and reinventing yourselves based on your fallacies which denigrates you because it's based on our legacy, and heritage. Everything we've done here on Earth is chronicled in the heavens, with no stone left unturned. To the detriment of a baseless people who seek to exalt themselves over God's truths this is what the truth has boiled down to. It ain't in ya. Yet some of the gentiles will enter the Kingdome of heaven without ever having to face abuse, persecution, death, pain, fear, or sickness and disease ever again. When God told Abraham that all nations and families of the Earth would be blessed through his loins this was one of the blessings in the case of the gentiles he made conclusive because Abraham was faithful though Sarah's womb was barren, and he had not the strength to conceive a child in his old age, so he thought. Romans 11:21-26 21 For if God spared not the natural branches, take heed lest he also spare not thee. 22 Behold therefore the goodness and severity of God: on them which fell, severity; but toward thee, goodness, if thou continue in his goodness: otherwise thou also shalt be cut off. 23 And they also, if they abide not still in unbelief, shall be grafted in: for God

is able to graft them in again. 24 For if thou wert cut out of the olive tree which is wild by nature, and wert grafted contrary to nature into a good olive tree: how much more shall these, which be the natural branches, be grafted into

their own olive tree? 25 For I would not, brethren, that ye should be ignorant of this mystery, lest ye should be wise in your own conceits; that blindness in part is happened to Israel, until the fulness of the Gentiles be come in. 26 And so all Israel shall be saved: as it is written, There shall come out of Sion the Deliverer, and shall turn away ungodliness from Jacob. The comforters in need of some Alka-Seltzer or Maalox. If you heed the teachings of Jesse Duplantis who teaches a Christian doctrine, that's a man made religion, based on a Hebrew Bible about Israelite people that the world refuses to acknowledge we are God's people not the squatters over in the Middle East which geographically is another fabrication like the size of Alkebulan that dwarfs all other land masses. Ain't nothing changed. Pat Robertson, Joyce Meyer, Rick Warren, Franklin Graham who supports Africa, and its people who are in need, yet is a staunch supporter of trump, and his all but dead lawless administration that's brought about the collapse of the Western hierarchy; makes him look schizophrenic. He could have a stake in the Motherland, and he's watching after his, our investment you tell me, but something's not adding up. I have an Apostle who I trust to a degree more so than members of my natural family which isn't a good look for Gomez, and the rest of the Adams Family. Israel is a forgiving people, because God is in them. I didn't include myself for reasons you'll find out by this time tomorrow as soon as I find the reasoning behind this façade of illusive illusions the world's trying to catch, and I'm trying to outrun called reality. Chase me down with a bag full of Bacon Cheeseburgers, and blow me a kiss before I eat from Frechelle’s goody bag. This is where I leave my computer. My senility is showing, and it looks like the ugliest dog in the pound entered in the Ms. America contest. Good morning. 10/1/2021

[dogopower]

Satan, Prince of This World

Christ gave us the Lord’s prayer so that, by repeating it daily, we would have the above truths impressed upon our minds. It must be obvious that if we did establish God’s Kingdom here on earth, His Will would be done here as it is in Heaven. When Christ told those who persecuted Him, “My kingdom is not of this world,” He did not say, nor did He imply, that it wasn’t our duty to introduce God’s plans for the rule of the Universe into our own forms of government.

God’s plan requires that religious leaders, truly God’s men, should advise our temporal Rulers, and prevent them straying from the true and narrow path. That is the relationship God intended should exist between church and state.

Instead of Holy men, we have allowed the S.O.S. to place evil men in control of ALL those in high places.

Our earth is a very, very small potato when compared with the galaxies of heavenly bodies, the suns, stars, and planets which make up the Universe. The Holy Scriptures tell us that the Universe is now split into two parts. One part is

Heaven, reserved for those who PROVE they wish to love and serve God voluntarily for all eternity; the other part is Hell, reserved for those who defect from God. Revelations tell us exactly how and when this division will be made definite and final. Then there will be only Heaven and Hell, and they will last for all eternity.

It must be obvious to all thinking people that the reason Christ told us we must start at the bottom and work up, using men and women whose minds have not been brought under control of the Synagogue of Satan (by propaganda introduced into our seats of learning and ALL other channels of public information), is because He knew that ALL those in “High Places” don’t realize they are being controlled by the agentur of “The Synagogue of Satan.” However, the Devil’s agents keep the human race so busily engaged scratching for a living, or seeking riches and carnal pleasures, that the vast majority never have time for prayer and meditation. Our leaders, secular, and religious, never seem to have time to consider anything other than worldly problems ... and the Devil’s agents see they are busy with problems which concern the world and the flesh to the exclusion of all spiritual interest and values.

But because the vast majority of those who occupy the HIGH PI-ACES are elected by the people, it is logical to say that until the people are subjugated it is possible for an enlightened and fully-informed public to create such a force of public opinion, that such force could seriously affect even those who occupy the very highest places in politics, government, economics, industry, the sciences, and religion. In my humble opinion, that is what Christ meant when He told us to “Go and teach the TRUTH to ALL people of ALL nations.” Christ made us the promise that if we did so “The TRUTH would set us free.” These are the reasons that those who direct the Luciferian conspiracy AT THE TOP keep THEIR true intentions, to enslave the people physically, mentally, and spiritually secret. They deliberately surround the TRUTH with a thick fog of lies, which we term propaganda.

While dealing with this phase of the W.R.M., it is essential to prove that the Synagogue of Satan does not permit even those they select to direct the W.R.M. to suspect they are being used as ‘Tools’ to bring the Luciferian conspiracy nearer to its final goal.

Gussepi (sometimes referred to as Guiseppe of Joseph) Mazzini has been represented to the people by the controlled press as a great Italian patriot, as were Mackenzie King of Canada and General Albert Pike of the U.S.A., and many others since proved to be hypocrites. These men pretended to serve God, their country and humanity, while in reality they knowingly furthered the secret Luciferian plans. Documentary evidence definitely proves that from 1834 until he died in 1872, Mazzini directed the W.R.M.. throughout the world He used as revolutionary headquarters the Lodges of the Grand Orient, established towards the end of the 18th century by Weishaupt, and the Councils of Pike’s New and Reformed Palladian Rite, established the second half of the 19th century in all countries throughout the world.

Mazzini was closely associated with one Dr. Breidenstine. After Mazzini’s death in 1872, a letter he had written to Breidenstine came to light. The contents fully illustrate what I mean when I say that not even the directors of the W.R.M. are permitted to know they further the secret plans of the Luciferian conspiracy, unless they have convinced those who constitute the Synagogue of Satan that they have finally and completely defected from God and are suitable and ready for initiation into the FULL, or FINAL SECRET

Study of Mazzini’s ‘secret’ life proves that he actually accepted Satan as “Prince of the World.” He worshipped him as such. As Director of the W.R.M. he was admitted into the Synagogue of Satan, and yet, even as a member of that group, his letter to Breidenstine shows that he had not been initiated into the FULL SECRET, which is that Lucifer is God, the equal of Adonay (our God) and that the ultimate purpose of the W.R.M. is to bring about one form or another of a one world government, the powers of which the High Priests of the Luciferian Creed intend to usurp so they can then impose a Luciferian totalitarian dictatorship upon the people of this world. In the letter referred to, Mazzini wrote, “We form an association of Brothers in all parts of the Globe. We wish to break every yoke. Yet there is one that is unseen; that can hardly be felt, yet that weighs on us. Whence comes it? Where is it? No one knows, or at least no one tells. This association is secret even to us, the veterans of Secret Societies.”

[danfanciesphil]

Teacher AU (Part 5)

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Part Four)

(Now Available on Ao3!) 

(Shoutout to lexou-chan for smoothing out my terrible French in this chapter and the last, she’s amazing, go and follow her immediately!)

“Just bring us back some authentic macarons, for the love of God.” Teddy says, his voice pumped with an urgency that suggests this has been on his mind for some time. 

“He’s right, the poor imitations they make here don’t compare to the Parisian originals.” Tyler agrees, placing a hand over Teddy’s in sympathy. “You’ll see.”

“Guys,” Dan whines, on the verge of tearing his hair out. “You’re not helping! I leave for Paris tomorrow. I need advice, not souvenir requests!” 

“Ooh, now that you mention it, I’d love a béret.” Tyler pipes up, eyes gleaming. 

Dan flops down onto the pile of clothes covering his bed, groaning. His suitcase is open, but tragically empty, despite the fact that Dan is headed for France at 8am tomorrow morning. 

It’s currently 10:30pm. 

“Come on, Dan,” Teddy says, falling back onto the pile beside him. “You’ll be fine! Just stop stressing.” 

“I mean, how hot can this guy be?” Tyler asks, barely concealing his genuine curiosity. He holds up one of Dan’s faded t-shirts, wrinkling his nose in distaste. 

“It’s not just that he’s hot,” Dan grumbles, sitting upright. 

Teddy pats him soothingly on the back. 

“He’s also incredibly clever, and funny, and charming.” Dan says, sighing. “He’s a big, beautiful ball of sunshine.”

“What does that make you?” Tyler asks, chucking the t-shirt at his face. “A planet, orbiting around him?”

“More like a speck of space dust.” Dan says, hurling the t-shirt to the floor; he never liked it much anyway. 

Tyler sighs at him, hand on one hip. “Dan, get it together. It’s three days. You can manage for three days.” 

“Just... help me decide what clothes to take.” Dan replies miserably. “That’s what you’re good for, isn’t it?”

“Ooh, charming!” Tyler exclaims, picking up one of Dan’s trainers from the floor in order to chuck it at him. “Careful or I might pack you nothing but suspenders and mini shorts.” 

“An outfit like that might actually help him in this situation,” Teddy laughs, poking Dan in the side repeatedly until he laughs. 

It takes over an hour of packing, then repacking, then doing it all over once more, before Dan is finally just about satisfied enough to be able to zip up his case. Despite getting to bed reasonably early (for him) however, he still doesn’t get more than a few fleeting snatches of unconsciousness. 

*

Unsurprisingly, Phil is raring to go, bright and chipper for the journey ahead, by the time Dan reaches the school. 

Phil’s stood beside the coach, greeting grumpy, overtired students and their parents as they arrive. 

Yes, he assures several worried mothers, there’s a first aid kit on the bus. 

No, he hasn’t visited the hostel personally, but it got very high ratings on TripAdvisor. 

He’s not sure whether he’ll be able to personally update any parents by phone twice a day, but he’ll make sure to remind students to check in with their worried families to let them know they’re still alive. 

Dan walks straight over to him, keeping his head down amongst the crowd of irritable teenagers in their casual clothes; he still looks young enough that he probably passes for one of them, after all. 

“Dan!” Phil exclaims as soon as he catches sight of him. “You made it!” 

He’s wearing a black scarf, which he immediately removes and wraps around Dan’s neck. 

Dan blushes, unable to keep from smiling despite his tiredness. “What’s this for?” 

“It’s cold in Paris.” 

“But what about you?” Dan asks. 

Phil shrugs at him, smiling. “Guess I’ll just have to wrap you around me instead.” 

Dan rolls his eyes, his heart already hammering away. Christ, he’s been in Phil’s presence for less than a minute, and he’s already practically swooning. 

“You can get on if you like,” Phil tells him. “I nabbed us the seats at the front - teacher privileges.”

“Yeah?” Dan asks, mind working sluggishly. “What about my bag?” 

Phil glances down at the pack by Dan’s feet. “Oh, I’ll take that.” He lifts it onto his shoulder with an ease that startles Dan somewhat, seeing as he’d used most of his strength for the day just getting it here. “I’ll put it with the others.”

Dan just watches in amazement as Phil walks off with it, slinging it into the luggage compartment underneath the bus with the other students’ bags. He starts helping some other kids with their cases, so Dan leaves him to it for now. 

He’s such a weakling that he’d only be a hindrance if he tried to assist, anyway. 

The bus is only half full when Dan steps on. Some of the students are chattering quietly, but most are quiet, the dark circles under their eyes betraying how rarely they see this hour of the day. 

“Oi, Mr Howell! You’re coming!” A voice calls, unmistakably belonging to Jonah. “Right on, sir. Knew you would.”

Dan gives a small wave towards the direction he heard the voice, but doesn’t manage to summon enough strength to reply. Instead, he heads for the pair of seats at the front of the bus, upon which Phil has already placed his galaxy backpack, and what seems to be some sort of blanket, made up of a variety of materials, stitched together in a zig-zag pattern. 

Dan sits down heavily, head lolling back against the headrest. He only means to close his eyes for a moment, but the next thing he knows, he’s waking up to Phil beside him, the bus already chugging along the road. 

“Hey, you’re awake,” Phil whispers. Dan blinks at him, embarrassed at having already failed so spectacularly in his teacher-duties. “I brought coffee. Want some?”

Without waiting for an answer, Phil pulls a shiny gold flask out of his backpack, along with two plastic cups. He pours out some coffee, and hands one of the cups to him. 

“Thanks,” Dan says, sincerely. He brings the coffee to his nose, inhaling the rich aroma. “You’re so prepared.” 

Phil giggles. “Not really. I just can’t function without coffee.” 

“How long have we been going?” 

Phil shrugs, sipping from his own cup. “About an hour or so?” 

“Shit.” Dan says, sitting up a little straighter. Realising what he just said, he slaps a hand over his mouth. “Whoops. I mean, ‘sugar’.” 

Phil laughs again, under his breath. “Don’t worry. Most of them are zonked out. You’re safe.”

Dan cranes his neck around the seat to peer down the aisle of the bus. Sure enough, the vast majority of the students have their eyes shut fast, their heads lolling as the coach bounces along. 

As he turns back, he notices VP Green, also asleep, in the seats across the aisle from them. He runs a curious gaze over the older man, noting how different he looks in casual-wear, rather than his usual suit. 

“So, where are we headed?” Dan asks, drinking some coffee as he faces Phil again. 

He crosses his legs instinctively, and notices for the first time that the zig-zag blanket is draped over both his and Phil’s laps. He chokes a little on his sip. 

Did Phil actually tuck a blanket around him whilst he was sleeping? 

“Uh, Paris?” Phil says, chuckling. 

Dan rolls his eyes, deciding to push the blanket thing to the back of his mind, for fear of going mad from over-analysing it.“No, I mean like... which hostel. Which... bit?”

“Which arrondissement, you mean?” 

“...Sure.” 

“Le quatorzième.” 

Dan stares at him blankly, making Phil laugh. 

“The fourteenth. A place called Montparnasse. It’s a nice area, on the left bank.” Phil explains; Dan still feels a little lost by this, which must be evident. “The south side of the river. It’s where Jean-Paul Sartre lived.” 

“Oh!” Dan says, surprised. “That’s cool. I’ve read his stuff.”

“You have?” Phil asks, eyebrows raised. 

Dan pushes him lightly in the shoulder, cheeks warm. “Don’t sound so surprised!”

Phil grins, pushing back. “I’m not, sorry. It’s just that not many people have.” 

“Well, you see Phil, I’m not one of the crowd.” Dan says, jokily. 

“I know,” Phil replies, no hint of insincerity. 

*

“By the way,” Phil says casually, while their coach idles at their fourth toilet stop of the trip. “I put us down to share a room. That’s okay, right?” 

Dan, who is bent forwards in the seat, battling with the blanket as he attempts to rety his shoelace, jerks upwards as he hears this, heart rattling the bones of his ribcage with how hard it begins to pound. 

“Share?”

“Yeah,” Phil confirms, shrugging one shoulder in vague apology. “The hostel is two to a room. Before you confirmed you were coming, I was psyching myself up for three nights with snorey Green over there.” 

Phil inclines his head towards VP Green, who has been sound asleep for the entire journey so far, his snores alternating between earth-quake level and soft, tinny kitten purrs. 

Dan hides a snigger behind his hand, though his heart continues to race. This is something that Phil should definitely have mentioned about the trip. It adds a whole new layer to Dan’s already steeping anxiety. Sharing a room with Phil is far different to just being in a hostel with him. 

There’ll be no escape. He’ll have nowhere to hide. 

Dan will be in Phil’s constant presence for the entire weekend, morning and night. How will he sleep, knowing that Phil is unconscious in the same room? 

How will he breathe?

“Yeah,” Dan says, managing a shrug, though he’s not sure it’s very convincing. “That’s cool.”

*

They arrive in Montparnasse at 6:30pm. 

“Cor, sir it’s fucking freezing!” Jonah says as he steps off the bus, arms wrapping around himself. 

“Jonah, language!” VP Green says sternly. 

He still seems a bit dazed, having slept the whole way here. Dan and Phil had passed the rest of the journey playing a marathon game of I Spy. 

Dan had complained, because Phil kept thinking of things he couldn’t possibly have seen - an elephant, a superman - and justifying it by saying “I saw it on a poster!”, or “there was a cloud shaped just like him!”. 

Inevitably however, Dan could only be annoyed with him for approximately three seconds before being overcome with the adorableness of it all. 

They haul the bags out of the coach, and trundle into the hostel Phil has booked for them, imaginatively named ‘L’Hôtel Montparnasse’. 

Thankfully, Phil has already given the students the chance to pick out their roommates for the trip, so there are no arguments as the kids find their pairs, collect their keys from Phil, and race through the corridors to find their rooms. 

John, Phil, and Dan stand in the lobby, bereft of the teenagers they’re in charge of suddenly. They turn to one another, shoulders sagging. 

“I really hope that’s the right way,” John says, gazing at the corridor into which the students all disappeared. 

Dan snorts. “On the bright side, if they’ve run off, they’re not our problem anymore.” 

Phil chuckles, then holds up the two remaining keys in his hands. “Okay, this is for you, John-o.” He tosses the key into John’s hands, turning to Dan. “And this one’s ours.”

“C-cool.” Dan manages, not trusting himself to look Phil in the eye just yet. 

“Right, well, rendez-vous here for about 7:30?” John suggests, already grabbing the handle of his suitcase. “Freshen up, then we can get some dinner in these kids?”

“Sounds good,” Phil says, smiling. His hand is resting lightly on Dan’s back, as though he’s pushing him towards the room already. “I think this place has a dining area. We can check it out.”

“All good with you, Dan?” John asks. 

Hmm, Dan thinks, his mind spinning as he considers the upcoming scene. Well John old pal, I’m about to walk willingly into a small bedroom with the guy I can’t stop obsessing over, pick out a bed right next to his, possibly change in front of him, all whilst attempting to play it perfectly cool. 

“Très bien.” Dan says, plastering on some semblance of a smile. 

*

He’d expected the bedrooms to be small, but this is just cruelty. If he were with anyone else, Dan would be fine with it. He’s stayed in hostels before, obviously (he’s a young, broke twenty-something), and by typical standards, this one is pretty damn nice. 

The beds are made, with clean sheets and blankets. There’s a big window, through which the pretty cobbled street outside is visible, bathed in early evening light.

There are bedside tables, with a lamp on each, simple and functional, but a great asset to the room nonetheless. What the room lacks however, is space. 

The majority of the floor is taken up with the two single beds, which - despite being pressed against opposing walls - are almost squashed together. Dan can just picture laying in one tonight, flinging his arm out, and being able to touch Phil without difficulty. 

He shivers. 

All of a sudden, Phil pushes past him, leaping onto the bed on the right. “I call this one!” 

Dan smiles weakly, dropping his bag onto the other bed and perching on the end. It’s not exactly the most comfortable mattress he’s ever felt, but that’s hardly surprising. 

“God, I’m exhausted.” 

Phil sits up, mild concern passing over his features. “Do you wanna stay here and get some sleep? I’m sure me and John can handle the kids through dinner.” 

Oh no, Dan thinks, feeling his heart pang. Phil’s being understanding. He’s being sweet and caring. As if he could make himself any more desirable. 

He shakes his head, managing to give Phil a grateful smile. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll just... make sure I have an early night.”

“Shame,” Phil says, winking. “I had all sorts of games in mind that we could play once the kids were asleep.” 

Dan’s heart immediately lurches forwards, slamming against his ribs; he feels an actual ache in his chest, and splutters. 

“Oh?” He chokes out, avoiding Phil’s eye. “More ‘I Spy’?” 

“Not exactly,” Phil chuckles, scooting off the bed. “Guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow night now.” 

Dan just watches him in silence, not sure what possible response he could scrounge up right now. Phil throws his own bag down on the bed, digging inside until he finds a fresh shirt. 

Dan swallows, sensing what’s about to happen, and quickly scurries out of the room, muttering something about finding the bathroom, before Phil has a chance to strip off. 

*

“Get a fucking grip, Dan.” He tells his blurred reflection in the mirror of the communal bathroom. 

There’s one on each floor, equipped with two shower cubicles, three toilet cubicles, and three sinks. A long mirror is hung over the sinks, smeared and flecked with water stains; it’s nothing five star, but it could be much worse. 

There’s someone showering in one of the cubicles, singing loudly and off-key. If Dan’s not mistaken, the song they’re attempting to perform is ‘Cry Me A River’ by Justin Timberlake. 

An oldie, but a goodie, Dan thinks appreciatively. 

He sighs at himself, dithering because he doesn’t want to go back into that room and be forced to see Phil’s naked chest. He thinks he might actually explode if that were to happen. Or, more likely, he’d do something stupid and obvious, like blushing too hard, or stammering, or hey - maybe just fainting on the spot. He’s pretty tired, after all. 

The shower cubicle door opens, and a man walks out, whistling the same Timberlake tune as he strolls over to the sinks, a towel around his waist. 

“Oh, Dan!” The man says brightly.

Turning in surprise, Dan looks at him properly for the first time. He stands up a little straighter, realising who it is. 

“Mr Green!” Dan says, feeling very awkward all of a sudden. 

In avoiding staring at Phil’s bare skin, he’s apparently managed to confront himself with a different teacher’s naked torso. He blushes, trying to focus on Mr Green’s face. 

“Please, call me John.” He says, beaming. He runs a hand over his stubble, peering at his reflection. “Not in front of the kids perhaps, but I think we’re on a first name basis at this point, don’t you?”

“Um, sure.” Dan says, not really agreeing, but in no mind to argue. 

“So, escaping Phil already?” 

“Hah, no, no, I just...” Dan flounders for an excuse. “I had to pee.” 

John glances at him in the mirror, evidently a little stunned by such an up front admission. “Right. Of course.” He straightens up. “Well, even so. I know Phil’s a little... eccentric. Don’t get me wrong, I think he’s brilliant. And the kids love him, so I consider his personality a blessing. But if you need a break from him, Dan, I understand. And hey, I’m only down the hall!” 

Dan laughs politely, feeling very uncomfortable. “Right, yeah. I... should probably go and check if he’s ready.” 

“Sure thing, Dan.” John says, heading back to his shower cubicle. “See you in a bit! Cry me a river, oh...” 

Dan scurries out of the door. 

*

According to Phil, dinner time is a success. 

The girls apply full faces of makeup just to traipse down to the crappy dining hall of this hostel and eat lukewarm buffet food. The boys flick mashed potato at each other, and the girls shriek at them. 

There are twenty-three of them in total, including teachers, and they take up one long table, Phil at one end, John at the other. Dan seats himself beside Phil, on the corner, alarmed by how the students are behaving. 

They talk too loudly, and annoy several other guests into leaving the dining area. They lean back on their chairs, they spill food and drinks, and they make a mess of the table. 

Dan almost has several heart attacks attempting to keep them under control, and has to apologise to the hostel workers twice. Thankfully, John is a little stricter, and has a level of authority that makes the students listen to him. One stern glance from VP Green can make even Jonah slump back into his seat, defeated. 

Phil, on the other hand, is breezy and calm throughout. He laughs with the students, rolls his eyes at their mischief, and barely says a stern word to any of them. When Dan queries this behaviour, Phil simply says that the most important thing is that the kids are happy, fed, and safe. 

“It’s the first night,” Phil says, bumping Dan’s shoulder with his own. “They’re bound to be over-excited. We’re in France! They’ll settle down after some food and sleep.” 

Dan wants to believe him, but he doesn’t see it happening. The kids are restless, and full of a youthful energy Dan hasn’t found in himself since he was fourteen. 

In all honesty, even thinking about tomorrow, where Dan will have to endure an entire day of this, out and about in the streets of Paris, is making him nauseous enough to push his bland plate of sausage and mash away. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and turns to look at Phil, his serene face like an island of escape from the madness. 

“Hey, trust me.” Phil tells him in a low, soft voice. “It’s gonna be fun, I promise.” 

Dan sincerely hopes he’s right.

*

As predicted, sleeping two feet away from Phil does not allow Dan to get much rest. Despite desperately needing sleep, Dan again only manages a few hours, spending the rest of the night replaying the instance just before Phil climbed beneath his covers, where he’d unbuttoned his shirt agonisingly slowly, and shucked off his jeans. 

He’d pulled on a baggy tie-dye t-shirt pretty quickly, and Dan only allowed himself a peek at the exposed thigh on show below his boxers, but it was enough. The sight of him, so barely clothed, is going to be seared into Dan’s retinas for the rest of time, he’s sure. 

Phil is a deep sleeper, thankfully. He doesn’t so much as breathe loudly, let alone snore. He faced away from Dan, mercifully, or else Dan thinks he might have spent the whole night studying his sleeping face. 

It’s a surreal experience, being half-awake, knowing that Phil is right there. It’s comforting too, somehow. 

He wakes up to the sound of Phil moving about, feeling bleary from his own exhaustion still. He’s sure he looks awful - dark circles and bed hair - but Phil catches his eye and smiles sweetly, pulling on his mismatched socks. 

“Morning, sleepy.” 

“Ffrnnhhh,” Dan replies, burying his face in the pillow. 

Phil laughs, standing up. He walks over and pats Dan on top of the covers. 

“I’m about to go and rouse the kids for breakfast,” Phil says; Dan turns just enough that he can see Phil out of one eye. “Shall I see you down there?” 

Dan nods, grunting once in affirmation. 

Laughing again, Phil heads for the door, the crippling avalanche of the early morning melting off his shoulders as if he were a furnace.

“Wait,” Dan croaks, sitting up a little. “Will you get me a coffee?” 

Phil smirks at him, rolling his eyes. “Yes, Mr Howell.” 

*

Dan has three coffees. He bypasses the croissants and pastries that the hostel lay out in an impressive spread, and opts solely for a caffeine breakfast. He pours his third coffee into Phil’s flask and insists on taking with them as they get up to leave. 

He is horrified to find that they’ll be walking around Paris, as opposed to getting the Metro or a bus. But Phil insists that Paris is ‘designed’ to be walked around.

“We’re going to be flâneurs for the day, like true Parisians!”  

So they set off on foot, the students bundled in thick coats and scarves, swarming down the street behind Phil. 

Dan walks at his side, sipping coffee from Phil’s flask, and complaining. 

“Dan, cheer up!” Phil tells him, shoving him in the side with a laugh. “We’re in Paris! Look at all the pretty buildings! The boulangeries! The pâtisseries!” 

Dan sighs, the excitement in Phil’s voice seeping under his skin. 

“Sorry,” he says, swigging more coffee. “I’m just tired. I’ll perk up, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Phil says, “I know you didn’t get much sleep. I heard you tossing and turning. D’you find it difficult to sleep in new places?” 

Oh crap, Dan thinks, head snapping up to look Phil in the eye. He heard?

“Something like that.” Dan answers vaguely, ransacking his brain for a change of subject. “So, where are we headed?” 

Phil grins at him, clearly pleased by this question. He spins theatrically on the spot, facing the students as he continues to walk backwards. 

“We’re going to the Musée De L’Orangerie!” He shouts, one arm flung out to the side.

The students look at each other, bemused and sceptical. At the back of the crowd, John grins happily, sending Phil a thumbs up. 

“The fuck’s that, sir? You takin’ us to a museum of oranges?” 

“I see you’re into your classical art, Jonah.” Phil says, laughing. He catches John’s displeased eye. “And try not to swear, yeah? We’re representing the school!” 

Jonah rolls his eyes, but smirks. “Yeah, yeah, sir.” 

“Mr Howell?” Phil asks unexpectedly, just as Dan pulls him out of the path of a pedestrian. Somehow, Phil is managing to walk backwards without issue, but it’s putting Dan on edge. “Do you know what we might find at L’Orangerie?” 

A little embarrassed at being called out, Dan answers quietly, barely looking over his shoulder at the others: “Monet.” 

Phil is quiet for a few seconds; Dan can feel him staring. He looks up, meeting Phil’s surprised gaze with a slight smile. 

“What?”

The corner of Phil’s mouth twitches. His bright blue eyes flick over Dan’s face, like he’s seeing it in a whole new light. 

“Nothing.” 

"I think Mr Howell’s pronouncin’  that wrong, sir.” 

Phil turns back to the students, confused. “What do you mean, Jonah?” 

“I don’t know nothin’ about art, but even I know it’s called the Mona Lisa, sir.”  

Dan has to hide his laughter in Phil’s scarf, which he made sure to wrap tightly around his neck before setting off. 

*

“You never told me you liked art,” Phil whispers to him, making Dan jump a little. 

The caffeine has started to kick in, and now he’s feeling kind of wired. He has no concept of how long he’s been stood here, in front of this one specific section of Monet’s Water Lilies. He’s lost in the deep, swirling hues of blue and purple; the calming colours of this masterpiece are reminding him of something fantastical, but he can’t place what it is. 

He turns to face Phil, who has wandered over to stand beside him, and instantly remembers. 

“I guess I’m full of surprises,” Dan answers, finding that his breaths are harder to catch hold of, as he stares into the Nymphéas of Phil’s eyes. 

Phil smiles, turning back to the painting. 

Dan’s been here once before, when he was young, but he’s seen these paintings countless times. There’s a feature, on the Musée De L’Orangerie website, that allows a ‘virtual tour’ of its rooms. Kind of like Google street view, it’s as if you can step through the screen and into the gallery. 

Sometimes, when his anxiety threatens to overwhelm him, Dan puts on his Frank Ocean playlist, or maybe some Chopin (he knows, he’s pretentious), and stares at these canvases on his laptop screen until he feels better. 

He’s not about to tell Phil this, though. 

“Monet’s probably my favourite,” Dan comments, trying to follow exactly which part of the painting Phil’s eyes are focusing on. “There’s something inimitable about his stuff.”

“It’s so... mad,” Phil says, awed, tilting his head to one side. “How did he know?”

“Know what?” 

“Well, up close it’s so messy. It’s like he’s just splodged some colour together any old way.” Phil says; Dan smiles, loving that Phil just gets it. “But then you step back...” Phil takes hold of Dan’s arm, walking them both backwards a few steps. “...and it’s-”

“A masterpiece.” Dan finishes for him, nodding. He pauses. “Kind of reminds me of your kitchen.” 

Phil laughs, the sound of it bursting out of him, glittery and bright. “What?” 

Dan blushes, but stands by his statement. “That’s what you said to me, remember? You said you just throw random bits of furniture and decoration together without really thinking about how it’s all going to fit. But I saw it for the first time and I thought it was beautiful.”

Phil regards him for a moment, apparently at a loss for what to say. After a while, he laughs again, but the sound of it is a little breathier, as though he’s stunned. 

“You must be very sleep deprived.” Phil tells him, but he sounds fond. There’s a light dusting of pink across the pale glaciers of his cheekbones. “But thank you.” 

A gaggle of students walk up to them then, brimming with questions about the artwork, all of which Phil answers, his patience never failing to astound. Now and then, Phil will look to Dan for an answer that he’s not sure of, which is kind of thrilling. 

Dan’s not used to being the knowledgable one in any situation, let alone a situation with Phil. 

After a while, the group of girls in question drift from asking Phil anything at all, and direct their questions at Dan instead, clearly sensing he’s the one to ask about this subject. 

“Did Monet have a happy life?” One of them asks, which is the only question that stumps him. 

For some reason, Dan finds himself dragging his eyes up to Phil’s, behind her, as though his face might hold a clear answer. Phil is looking at him, obviously interested in his answer, so Dan considers it carefully, rifling through what information he has stored away in his absurd brain about his favourite painter’s life. 

“He... had a complicated life.” Dan says after a minute or so. “He was an innovator of impressionist art, but like lots of innovators... he was ahead of his time.” 

Dan looks at the painting, still reeling at the idea that it’s so close, after all these years of staring at its pixel version. He could reach out and touch it right now if he really wanted. Of course, it would end in him being marched out and possibly banned from his favourite museum, but still, he could. 

“I think he got a bit obsessed with it.” Dan continues after a moment of contemplation. “He wanted to be this great, revolutionary artist. He had all these wild ideas about colour, but he was so caught up in his mind that he kind of forgot to just enjoy himself. Like, he had a wife, Camille, that he loved a lot, but he only ever painted one portrait of her. He regretted it a lot after she died. I don’t think he really ever got over her, honestly. All of his paintings from later life are like this,” Dan says, gesturing at the enormous room of canvases, covered in dazzling scenes of colourful ponds, for which Monet is best known. “If you see the painting he did of her on her deathbed... it’s so expressive. So filled with grief. The colours are blurred and crushed together, just like these. There’s so much emotion in them.”

Dan pauses for a second, trying to articulate his caffeine-fuelled thoughts.

“I can’t be sure of my theory obviously.” Dan shrugs, eyes still fixed on the painting. “All I know is that if I were heartbroken, I’d probably pour my sadness into creating something giant and overwhelming. Something packed with beauty and feeling. Something like this. ” 

When Dan tears his eyes away from Water Lilies at last, the girls are all looking at him in wonder. 

“Mr Howell, that’s so romantic,” Anita, one of the girls, says dreamily. 

“Do you paint?” Another girl, Gaeul, asks shyly. 

Dan swallows, rubbing the back of his neck. This is suddenly very awkward; how did the conversation turn to him? 

“Um, no. Not anymore...” 

“Okay, I think Mr Howell’s answered enough questions, gang,” Phil interrupts gently. “Let’s move to the next room, okay?” 

The girls nod at him, all giggles and smiles, and wander off, their eyes lingering on Dan for a while. 

“Sorry,” Dan blurts as soon as they’re out of earshot. “I got carried away.” 

“You shouldn’t be sorry, Dan,” Phil tells him, voice gentle and soft. “I thought I was the weird one ranting about my obsession with French culture, but it’s really nice to hear you talk about what you love.” 

Dan shuffles on the spot, not sure what to do with his hands, suddenly. He shoves them in his pockets, for fear they might do something stupid of their own accord, like reach out for the man in front of him. 

“Most people say I’m talking bollocks,” Dan says, chuckling, trying to shrug Phil’s comment off with a joke. 

“Most people must be pretty dull then, I guess.” 

*

At lunchtime, Phil decides that the most appropriate way to feed the herd is to take them all to a typical french boulangerie. They head to the Jardin des Tuileries, the famous park near the museum, and let the kids find their own spots to sit down on benches and the edges of fountains. Then, in small groups of five or six at a time, Dan and Phil escort them to the boulangerie across the street to purchase baguettes or sandwiches. 

Phil does all the ordering for them, exchanging casual banter with the baker in perfect French; Dan tries hard not to let on how hot he’s starting to find it, hearing Phil slip into his second language with perfect ease. 

In fact, he overhears a couple of the other students whispering about how ‘peng’ it is that he can speak so well. 

Once everyone has bought something for their lunch, Phil and Dan head back by themselves to get something. 

“Vous revoilà!” The baker jokes upon seeing Phil pushing open the door. “A votre tour d'acheter votre repas maintenant?” 

“Oui! Vos baguettes sont vraiment trop bonnes!” Phil replies, grinning. 

Dan just smiles awkwardly, clueless as to what is being said. 

“Et qui est votre ami?” The baker asks, gesturing to Dan. “Ou... petit ami, peut-étre?” 

Dan looks at Phil fearfully, sensing he’s under discussion. 

“Ah...” Phil chuckles, glancing at Dan with a smirk. “Dan est ...juste un ami. Il est bien trop joli pour moi.”

“Oh, non! Ne dites pas ça!” The baker cries, shaking his head. 

“What’s he saying?” Dan whispers, feeling like he’s missing something here. 

“He... just asked who you were.” Phil replies, shrugging. “Don’t worry.”

“Dan,” the baker says suddenly, leaning over the counter towards him. “Qu'est-ce que vous attendez ? Votre ami est merveilleux ! S'il vous plaît-."

“Arrétez!” Phil cries out, laughing a lot for some reason. “Il ne comprend pas, et de toute façon il n'est pas interessé! S'il vous plaît, laissez nous juste acheter notre repas.”

“D’accord, d’accord,” the baker says, hands up in front of him as he leans away. “Qu’est ce-que vous desirez?” 

Phil lets out a little sigh, eyes tracking over Dan’s face for a moment. Dan’s about to ask if Phil is staring at him for a reason - perhaps waiting for him to order - but then he looks away. 

“Trois cafés, s’il vous plait.” 

*

“Should I be worried about what just happened in there?” Dan asks as he and Phil make their way back to the park, sandwiches and coffees in a little bag on Phil’s arm. 

Phil smirks to himself; a private joke dancing across his brain. “Maybe you should brush up on your French.” 

“I understood a little bit,” Dan says unsurely. “I think.”

Oddly, Phil’s eyes go wide. He pauses in his tracks, staring at Dan. “Really? Like what?”

“Well...” Dan says, struggling. “I think I heard... ‘amis’. That means friend, right?”

Phil smiles, shoulders releasing the tension they’d been holding. “Yep!” He continues walking, glancing at Dan every now and again. “Anything else?”

“Well... I don’t know if this is right but...” Dan’s brow creases, sure he must have misheard. “Did you say ‘jolie’?”

Phil doesn’t reply for a moment, and Dan is sure he must have gotten it wrong. 

“Um, yeah, I think I did.” Phil says eventually, looking straight ahead. “I think I was talking about how pretty Paris is... or maybe the museum? I can’t remember really.”

Phil chuckles, and Dan frowns, not having picked up on any of that. 

“Wow, I didn’t get that at all.” Dan says, laughing at his own ineptitude. “I guess I’m worse at French than I thought.” 

*

It’s around half an hour after his fourth coffee of the day that Dan starts to feel himself crash. Instead of keeping him alert, this final coffee seems to have provided him with enough energy to converse about something trivial and probably nonsensical with Phil for thirty minutes or so, and then wipe him out completely. 

His eyelids droop, and he dreads the idea of standing up from this park bench, of walking somewhere else. Whatever mad, wonderful thing Phil has planned next, Dan is certain he does not have the energy for it. 

“Are you okay?” Phil asks, turning to Dan during a pause in his conversation with John. 

The three of them are sat on a bench, Phil in the middle. John, who has been reading the news on his phone for most of this lunch break, munching appreciatively on the sandwich Phil bought him, looks over at Dan, concerned. 

Dan tries to appear alert, but he can feel how sluggish his movements are becoming. “I’m good, yeah-” a yawn interrupts his sentence, somewhat embarrassingly. “Sorry. I’m just quite tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Or the night before, he thinks privately.

“Phil’s snoring keeping you awake, is it?” John asks with a chuckle. 

Phil rolls his eyes, elbowing John in the side. “Hey, I don’t snore thank you very much.” 

“He doesn’t,” Dan mumbles, his words jumbling together. He slumps back against the bench, willing his eyelids not to close. “He’s an angelic sleeper.” 

Phil coughs a laugh. “O-kay, maybe you should get a nap in, Dan.” 

Dan shakes his head. “M’fine.” 

“It’s okay,” Phil shrugs. “I was gonna see if we could squeeze a trip to the catacombs in, but if you wanna skip it then I’m sure John and I can handle the kids for a couple of hours.”

“I doubt they’ll have much incentive to run off when we’re in an underground maze of corpses, to be honest.” John adds, draining the last of his coffee. “If you want to head back and get a bit of rest before the evening, Dan, I don’t see why it would be an issue.”

“Yeah, it’s really okay,” Phil assures him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll feel better if you’re less exhausted, anyway. And you don’t want to be tired for tonight.”

“Wha’s tonight?” Dan asks, unsure. 

“Tell you what,” Phil says, grinning. “Go back and get some sleep, and I’ll let you in on the plan.”

Dan smiles weakly, already feeling his eyes closing of their own accord. “Kay. But just a couple of hours.”

Phil nods, happy with this, and the next thing Dan knows, he’s in an Uber, headed back to the hostel, all alone. 

“Ici, monsieur?” The cab driver asks, pulling over to the kerb. 

Dan peers out of the window, noticing the sign that reads ‘L’Hôtel Montparnasse’, and nodding. “Oui, merci.”

That’s two words he knows, at least.

*

(Part 6!)

(Read the translation of the French in this chapter here!)