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punkitt-is-here · 1 year

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Read These Frequently Asked Questions Before You Send An Ask!

Patreon | Ko-Fi | Youtube

Heyo! I get a TON of asks each day, so I'm making this post so that folks know what's already been asked so my followers don't have to see the same stuff over and over, haha.

Hi! I'm Punkitt! I'm a game developer, artist, editor, director, and a bunch of other stuff! I'm working on an RPG called Astral Guard, a platformer called Susan Taxpayer, and I have a couple more fun projects in my pocket like Happup and Super Mario Death Row.

Did you know you look like weird al?

YES jesus fucking christ i get told this every day. if u send me a message in my inbox saying i look like weird al im killing you with like wizard spells and shit.

Why do you have so many hats? Do you know you have that many hats?

ye i like hats. :) free tumblr badges for one pea i like one piece and took as many as i could. free.

Where can I find your art/game development/horsecomix?

Great question! Everything I make that's my own and not a reblog is under "my posts", every bit of art I do is under "my art", any game development I do is under "gamedev", you can find all my MLP art under "mlp, my art" or "horsecomix" for the best stuff. I also have an "animations" tag and a "shitposts" tab. I also properly tag all my asks to be asks and write out the asker's name, so if you don't wanna see those just mute the ask tag.

Do you have a Patreon or a Ko-Fi?

I do have a ko-fi here! I also JUST launched a Patreon, which you can find here :)

What do you use for your art?

I use FireAlpaca and Paint.net for misc. effects!

What are you using to make your games?

I use FireAlpaca do make my assets! Astral Guard, Happup, and any other top-down RPG games I make are all made in RPGMaker 2003. Susan Taxpayer is made in SMBX2 Beta 4, a Mario fangame engine with lua support!

Why are you using a 2-decade-plus engine to make games?

It's fun!

Do you have a sideblog or something for your art?

Not right now! What you see is what you get. I do have a sideblog for Astral Guard though, if you want to follow that game specifically! @astral-guard

Can I make an OC based on your work? ABSOLUTELY!!!!!!! THATS THE COOLEST THING EVER!!!! LET ME KNOW IF YOU DO!!!! I WANNA SEE!!!!

Can I do dubs/redraws of your comics? As long as you credit me! I get a ton of notifs each day, so if you wanna show me (and PLEASE i so do wanna see fun dubs and redraws!!!) tag me or DM me!

Can I use your art as a PFP? Sure! Just credit me somewhere. :D

Are you the one who trapped her coworkers in a room and made them listen to TF2 lore?

Yep! Everyone had a blast actually. :]

Did you make that comic where Fluttershy eats the weed brownie/Rainbow Dash has a male living space/someone has a cutie mark that says they'll kill Ronald Reagan?

Yep! That's me.

Where are you in MLP right now?

Currently just finished Season 7! Haven't watched the movie yet.

Have you watched Equestria Girls?

Yep! Thought it was super cute. I watched up to Rainbow Rocks and plan on watching more.

What's your opinion on MLP so far?

I love it! I think it's cute. I really don't agree that there was some sort of huge quality drop after season 2 or whatever.

What do you think of G5?

Not my style! I don't really like either animation types and it just seems like I'm not in the audience anymore. That's totally chill, but it just doesn't grab me!

Have you watched any other MLP stuff from previous generations?

Nope! But I did see a compilation called Minty Being Autistic for Six Minutes Straight that I loved. she's perfect.

Favorite pony?

Don't got one, I love all the Mane Six a LOT, but I'm particularly fond of Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rarity!

Favorite episode/season?

I'm so bad at picking favorites! But any season past Season 1 I have a blast with because I feel like it's just more my style. I don't have a favorite episode, but the most recent one I can remember LOVING is the one where Starlight bottles up her emotions because it was REALLY funny.

Do you like Pony.mov?

Nope! And stop saying my stuff reminds you of it, it's a lil annoying!

Have you watched the Mentally Advanced Series/Friendship is Witchcraft/Other fandom vids?

Probably not! My interaction with the MLP fandom prior to last year was pretty minimal, so I'm making my way through the show first!

What do you think of Fallout: Equestria?

I think it's super weird but really fun because of that. I've never properly read any of it but it's very fascinating to me.

Are you transgender?

Yep! I go by she/her, I'm a trans woman. Have been for many years, but I only recently came out online!

Are you a lesbian?

Nah, I'm bisexual!

Can I commission you?

Yeah! I only have my commissions available on my Ko-Fi at certain times though, so keep an eye out! I usually announce slots being open at least 12 hours beforehand. Slots are usually first come first serve, but we'll see.

Can I use your art as a Discord emote?

Yeah man i'm not scouring every discord on the planet to find stickers of my work. i think it owns if people take my stuff and make it stupid injoke emotes between friends that makes me very happy.

Can I send you an ask inquiring about gender dysphoria?

I feel like this is beyond my capabilities of advice! I'm actually very comfortable with my body and I have been for many years, so I don't know if I can give any good or helpful advice on that front. Apologies, but there are many resources out there where you can ask about those things if you look for them, like Discord channels!

Favorite Color?

I'm a sucker for blue!

Favorite coffee?

Can't drink coffee, my stomach is cringe.

Favorite tea?

I'm lame and can't drink most tea but I love this one orange-flavored tea a lot. I also LOVE ice tea.

Can I say you're horsegender/punkittgender/a little gender goblin void thing?

Well, I can't stop you, but I'm kind of beyond that phase now! I really am a boring ol' plain she/her girl, and I like it that way. It's not much, but it's honest gender.

What's your favorite game series?

Mother, Kingdom Hearts, Mario, and I USED to say Fallout, but I found out I'm really only a big Fallout New Vegas fan.

Favorite game from those?

Mother 3 is one of my fave games of all time! I love KHII, and I'm tied for SMB3 and SMW. Also Fallout New Vegas fucks hard.

Any other favs?

Bug Fables, SLARPG, and TF2!

Favorite Movie?

Everything Everywhere All At Once, no question.

Oh, are you going to college?

Yep! I'm a film/theater major.

Do you have a YouTube channel?

Yeah! Click right here for it, I stream there and upload footage of my games/animations/my film projects + other stuff.

What is that little orange creature I see?

That's bweenop, my little persona that I use when I'm feeling a little scrunkly.

Do you have a ponysona?

Yep! Her name is Star Magnolia, you can search her on the blog to see art of her.

When will Susan Taxpayer/Astral Guard/etc. be out?

No clue! I take things slow, that's just how I am.

How do you work on so many things at once?

I make small, satisfying amounts of progress! I never try to complete one giant thing all at once, I just like doing small bursts of fun stuff. I got ADHD, so I learn to work with it.

Did you know you look like Weird Al?

Im going to run you over with a clown car watch out

WHY do you work on so many things at once?

Fun! I like learning, I like making cool stuff, and I like showing it to people :)

Do you need any help with your projects?

Potentially! I'll probably put out a post asking for help if I need it.

If you could be a horse, would you?

You kidding me? Several ton beasts with the frailty of a sickly Victorian boy; my clumsy ass would never survive.

Are you some sort of...furry?

yeag

Why do you reblog so much?

Brother I LOVE posting. that's just how it is.

Fav music artists?

It changes literally ALL the time but I will recommend ANYTHING by Vylet Pony, its music is incredible and probably the reason I'm a weird niche microcelebrity now.

Why are you like this?

theater kid + having a lot of fun on the internet makes you a bit silly hehe hoo

SUSAN TAXPAYER QUESTIONS

Is it out? Not yet! But hopefully sometime in the next year. I dunno! I take things at my own pace and keep stuff fun. :)

What are you using to make it? SMBX2! It's a free fangame engine for Mario episodes, but it's incredibly versatile and has a wonderful community, so I decided to make Susan Taxpayer in it.

Is there a demo? You betcha! You can find it right here. I'll also probably put it up on my itch.io.

How do I install it? I made a post here about how to run the SAGE '23 demo!

#FAQ #my posts #punkitt FAQ #announcement

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uramilf · 9 months

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Day Seven - All I Want for Christmas

Warning: SMUT

Matty might have been finished work, but it didn’t mean he was completely free to spend all his time with Y/N. George had decided that he and Charli would be extremely busy after Christmas and that the holidays were the best time to start wedding planning. So Matty had of course been called over to help, and his best man duties were very important to him. While Matty had been spending hours on end compiling a list of wedding guests at George’s house, trying desperately not to forget anyone, Y/N was lounging around her own house counting down the minutes until Christmas. She had a serious duty to attend to as well: looking after Mayhem. He might not have been her dog, but she felt as though he was. She took him for walks when Matty couldn’t, and he watched from his spot on the sofa while Y/N wrapped Christmas presents on the living room floor.

Matty was getting seriously fed up with guest lists, suddenly wishing George and Charli had less friends. He checked his phone every five minutes to see if his girlfriend had been in contact, but she was too busy carefully putting presents into colour-coordinated gift bags, including the ones she had bought for his family, after realising she couldn’t turn up empty handed to Denise’s house on Christmas Eve.

—————

Matty swung his car into the driveway of Y/N’s house after a long and tedious day of trying to think of every single person who might be offended if they didn’t receive an invite to George’s wedding. He didn’t bother knocking, just let himself through the front door, only to be met with Y/N throwing herself into his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” she mumbled into his neck. “I’ve missed you too, baby. So much.” Matty kissed the top of her head a few times. “Well, I missed you more.” “Did not.” “Did.” “Shut up, I missed you a million times more.” Y/N groaned. “I’m bored now. Fine, you wanna see how much I fuckin’ missed you?” Matty raised an eyebrow before Y/N dragged him up the stairs and into her bedroom, shoving him down onto the bed on his back.

“Jesus Christ, we should argue about missing each other a bit more often,” he smirked.

“Shut up,” Y/N repeated back his own words, before undoing his belt and tugging his trousers down. He was already hard, but trying to maintain his usual control, smirking up at her as if he was totally unbothered. She palmed him over his trousers, waiting until he gave in and stopped being so cocky, then rid him of his boxers and flicking her tongue over his tip.

“Fuck,” he breathed, head flopping back against the pillow.

Y/N started to suck gently on his tip, her hand sneaking up to stroke the rest of his length. She pulled away and spat into her hand before using it to jerk him off slowly, painfully slowly. Matty couldn’t hold in his groans and the occasional murmur of her name.

She slowly lowered her mouth to his cock again, licking the whole way up his length before taking him into her mouth, gagging slightly when he hit the back of her throat. He couldn’t help but buck his hips up toward her with a moan. She lifted a hand to pin his hip to the bed.

Y/N started to bob her head gently, building up speed as her tongue slid up and down his length. Eventually she felt bad listening to Matty begging and allowed him to thrust his hips up towards her, although it made her choke slightly and her chin was covered in spit, mascara running. He clawed at the bedsheets as she ran her fingers up and down his thigh. He stopped thrusting and grasped the back of her head, clutching gently at her hair and pushing her down, moans spilling from his mouth.

“Oh, baby, fuck. I’m gonna cum. Keep going,” he panted. “Please don’t stop.” With a few more seconds of her tongue working his length, he came with a groan of her name, gasping for breath as she swallowed every drop. “Fuck me, you’re perfect.” Y/N just smiled.

—————

“So, I got the last of your Christmas presents today,” Matty remarked while Y/N made him a cup of tea. He sat in the kitchen shirtless while she walked around in just a shirt, a habit they had fallen into every time they had sex. “You seriously didn’t need to buy me anything, you already got me my secret Santa present!” “We weren’t even going out when we did that! So technically it wasn’t even a present from your boyfriend.” “I’ve got you something too. I really hope you’ll like it.” “Hypocrite,” Matty smirked. “I’m kidding, I’m sure I’ll love it. But you know, all I really want for Christmas is you.” “Gay.”

—————

Later that night, after Matty had gone home, Y/N lay in her bed and thought through the events of the last few weeks. Went on a date with the guy she was in love with, got asked to be his girlfriend, got invited to spend Christmas with his family, all the while trying to fight the urge to say “I love you”, not knowing what the response would be. She didn’t know that a few streets over, Matty was laying in bed too, thinking the exact same thing.

#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagines #matty healy smut #christmas75

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if-you-feel-lonely · 2 years

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HII MARIN! :D can you write p!cc!jack w/ teen!reader who uses he/him? like a jschlatt/tommy relationship, where reader looks up to him? :))

I felt this request awake a dark demon in my bones ngl /pos. I'm so sorry it took so long, I ltr started writing this around Christmas Eve or Christmas day, then got really distracted by my family and cosplay-

I did headcanons since it wasn't specified but I'll happily reuse this idea in something else ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

TW: swearing, mentions of LSD

You two met through the dream SMP

You joined around the same time as Ranboo, and you were about a year younger than Tommy

He was very glad to no longer be the youngest on the server

One of the first people you met on the server was Jack, which was incredibly shocking to you

This guy you'd admired since you started out??? BEING FRIENDLY TO YOU??? NAH....

You sort of followed him around like a lost puppy, and he didn't seem to notice

Either that or he did and just didn't mind

You absolutely refuse to mention that you admired (and still kind of do) him

You would rather die than have him find that out

But if he does???

Jesus Christ he'll tease you about it

To be fair, he'll be so confused and a bit impressed with himself at first

Tommy probably told him without thinking about it. On stream.

😀

Me? Personally? I would not let that slide- /ref

"You know Y/n used to, like, really admire you?"

"Fuck off, no he didn't!"

"I think he still does 'n all. Mad, innit?"

This feels like I'm an american trying to write a British character when I'm just writing the way I speak I hate it here

You were pissed at Tommy, since you'll never live this down

But now that the public knew too?

So many compilations along the lines of "Y/n being Jack's little brother for _ minutes straight" has you blushing like mad

"Tommy, I actually fucking hate you."

"You are ENAMOURED with me, don't even lie."

Jack is so shocked and honoured that he's your inspiration and he's the reason you started streaming

Kicking his feet like a school girl sucking on LSD tabs like lollipops

He will never let it go. Ever

Millions of fans all around the world don't compare to the one he's friends with

If you ever jokingly insult him, he'll respond with "that's no way to speak to your idol" and every time he does it you die inside just a little bit

He mentions it at every given opportunity

If he misses a chance, you've met his evil twin

In all seriousness, though, he's so happy that you came this far with him as your inspiration

He inspired your career??? HE did that???

He's sort of in disbelief about it

It's so precious oh my god

He treats you like he treats his actual brother

He teases you sometimes, but it's light-hearted and all in good fun

Goes absolutely feral if you have people insulting you or those sorts of people in your chat (iykwim)

Convinced you to make him a mod in your stream

Usually your streams together are chaotic and loud, but there's the occasional relaxed stream where you just sit and talk and chill out

Chat loves it

In said stream, someone cries (/pos), someone nearly falls asleep and someone says the most emotional, touchy-feely shit known to man

It's very common for those streams to be clipped

Your friendship is adorable

#lonely asks #lonely writes #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #dream smp x reader #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #jack manifold #jack manifold x reader #platonic jack manifold x reader #platonic mcyt x reader #platonic dsmp x reader #platonic dream smp x reader

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eriquin · 1 year

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The Prophetic D&D Game Part 4

part 1, part 2, part 3, compilation post

Session 1.5

Grant was back for their next Hellfire Club meeting. As promised, Eddie returned to the Cult of Vecna. But during lunch, the rest of the club had filled him in on their side adventure and he wanted to know what character he would’ve gotten to play, if he’d been there.

“No one, Grant-man,” Eddie said. “If you’d been here, we would have started the Cult of Vecna, as we are about to do now.”

“But you had another character,” he said. “Next time someone drops and we play again, I’m going to get to play her, right? Come on, let me see the character. I want to catch up to the rest of these guys.”

Eddie sighed and rolled his eyes, acting far more put out about the request than he felt. He was secretly a little giddy that he’d captured their interest with his home-grown characters. They usually gave him more shit about his stories. He dug through his backpack, pretending that he couldn’t find the character sheets, but secretly he had stashed them neatly into their own folder and he knew exactly where it was. He finally decided he’d taken long enough and pulled the page free to hand over. Grant nodded and took it from him with an appropriate degree of reverence.

“Oh, is Grant going to play Natalia?” Gareth asked as took the seat next to him and glanced at the character sheet. “Wait, I thought we were doing Cult of Vecna today.”

“We are!” Eddie said, letting his annoyance with the situation come through. “I’m just letting Grant catch him up with the other game real quick, and then we’ll play.”

“Are you really going to run two games?” Jeff asked. It was just them so far—the freshmen hadn’t arrived yet.

“I don’t know,” Eddie said, wiggling in his seat. “I mean, I could, but it’s a lot of work. I didn’t really think you guys would like the murder-mystery one.”

“No, it’s great,” Jeff said. “Even though you dropped a Lord of the Rings reference in the first sentence of backstory.”

“What? Where?”

“Kiteshire?” Jeff raised his eyebrows.

“Shire is a perfectly valid suffix for a town.”

“For a sleepy farming village, yes,” Gareth said. “Not for a castle town. It was square one for Eddie-DM-Bingo.”

“Man, fuck off, Gare. I hate that you made those. I’m not that predictable.”

“Also a kite is a kind of hawk,” Grant said, not looking up from the character sheet. “So that’s square number two. Pun on Hawkins, again.”

“Oh my god.” Jeff leaned back in his chair and laughed. “Is it really?”

“He’s getting better at it though,” Grant said. “Remember Kestrelton?”

“Or Ospreyburg,” said Gareth.

“Or Buzzard Bay,” said Grant.

“Yes, yes, I abuse the library bestiary on a regular basis,” Eddie said. The other three boys looked at each other for a beat and burst out laughing, and Eddie had to let his head thump against the table when he realized what he’d said. “Christ, I’m just glad the little sheep weren’t here to hear that.”

“Speaking of the little sheep, how are you going to keep from guessing who your favorite NPC is, when you introduce him?” Gareth asked with a grin. “You know. The buffest, dumbest guy on the block with the perfect hair and the square jaw. I’ve heard them talking. They, like, regularly interact with Harrington. They call him their babysitter.” Eddie gave him a withering glare, and he held up his hands innocently. “I’m just saying.”

“Literally, fuck right off, Gareth. I will kill your character and not feel bad about it.”

Gareth looked completely unimpressed. “You do that anyway,” he said. “Get new threats.”

“Well, in that game I promise you that none of the NPCs are based off of Harrington, so it shouldn’t even come up,” Eddie said. “He graduated and no longer plagues me in these hallways.”

Jeff, Grant, and Gareth looked at each other. “He was awful specific about that promise, wasn’t he?” Jeff asked.

“Suspiciously so,” Grant agreed.

“He said ‘none of the NPCs’, didn’t he?” Gareth tapped his finger to his chin. “But you made all the character sheets, didn’t you Eddie?”

Eddie rubbed his fingers over his eyes. “Jesus Christ, you guys are the worst,” he said. “Look. Those were bare-bones characters. Not meant to resemble any real people, no matter how you twist my words.”

“Uh-huh,” Gareth said. None of the boys looked convinced.

“Hey, I let all of you fill in the character descriptions and play them how you like. All I set up were the mechanics of how to play and the history, just so the mystery would work out.” He crossed his arms and blew some of his hair out of his face. “If any of them end up resembling a real person, that’s on the player, not me.”

The glares he was getting from the rest of the Hellfire Club was interrupted by the wayward freshmen finally showing up to the game. “We’re here!” Lucas said as they burst through the door. “Mrs. Roberts kept us after and made us clean up the library before we left, but we came as fast as we could!”

Eddie was so relieved by the distraction that he barely even yelled at them about it. Instead, he opted to get them settled and launched into the Cult of Vecna, laying out the campaign that would take them through at least the next few months of club meetings. They got started, and he put the murder mystery game out of his mind, for now.

(Tagging @weirdandabsurd42 by request)

#the prophetic d&d game #my writing #hellfire club #stranger things

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prisonguards · 2 years

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@astronomical-bagel

I am. SO terribly sorry about how long this took to reply to, my brain wanted to sit down and write an Essay for u but Ive been. SO BUSY. But seriously Ive been treasuring and hoarding this ask :) its SOOOO so so nice that other people enjoy them as much as I do and Im so happy I could help collect us a little with the tag ^--^ we are all friends now <3 EDIT ALSO TUMBLR ATE THE FUCKING ASK???? I did have screenshot of ur ask thankfully, Im soooo pissed tho idk where it went

So Im gonna go into my history with them a bit cause I kinda got into them backwards ig augshsg. Or at least different from how most ppl in the tag/posting abt them rn are. I was primarily a Traffic and Emp S1 smallidarity guy for the longest time! Funnily enough I was a late adopter of Emp S2 smallidarity (enemies to lovers usually isnt my thing) but the way the community latched onto it and got everyone talking about them really, really got me invested (also getting kin feels helped /shot. Who said that.) I think the other funny thing is that smallidarity is a dynamic where I like the platonic version (almost) equally as much as the romantic—I push for the romantic just because its easiest to collect ppl with a shiptag (although I did intend Smallidarity to be both a platonic and a romantic tag, ftr. Post both! Any! All!) and because I enjoy Complicated dynamics that are easier caught/categorized under a “romantic” lens sometimes even if they arent Necessarily that. But I just love when theyre important to eachother in general.

I actually have Such delusions abt their Traffic dynamic. Im so insane abt it. I think theyre good friends with Joel having slowly building romantic feelings for Jimmy throughout the seasons, which Jimmy is… pretty much aware of and would reciprocate—if Joel would ever ask (he never will). The Last Life dynamic in particular is one that haunts me, because it. Feels like their most amicable Traffic dynamic, at least in my memory, and in no small part of that is Joel pledging to avenge Jimmy (and Mumbo but this is a Smallidarity post isnt it). That small comment profoundly impacts my Traffic Joel characterization and Im planning to incorporate little objects of remembrance for Jimmy into my late game Joel designs. Traffic smallidarity… like many Traffic dynamics that captivate me… its about the missed opportunities, its about the lack of time, its about Tragedy… I just have such bad Last Life brainrot on the mind rn so this has been whats living with me Daily rn.

I also think their 100 Hours is one of the most funny and most OBVIOUSLY flirty dynamics, though I may get into that a bit more with another ask that I got recently, and, well. My Sorry Sir compilation covers a lot of it.

Double Life is what actually converted me but I cannot think of what the Exact moment was. I went back to my messages from when the eps were coming out and.

They immediately got me.

Theres so many good Traffic moments. One day I will make that clip compilation. I swear.

EMPIRES S1……… theyre best friends… I think it would be funny if Joel is independently dating both him and Lizzie and Then they all find out Jimmy and Lizzie are siblings and Joel is like. Oh jesus Christ my type is Even More specific than I thought. Fishkisser boy. Joel making the joke romantic montage of Jimmy before declaring hes gonna be proposing to Lizzie made me. Drop dead. This dynamic is Everything I craved out of them, watching this directly after Double Life and during Emp S2, when theyre most antagonistic, made me fully insane. I LOVE when theyre nice to eachother. So much. Best friends who kiss. Little design headcanon for them is like. Joel is Fully embellished by pearls he gets from Jimmy and Lizzie. I should give Jimmy n Lizzie azaleas to wear in exchange too auughh..

Okay finally circling back to Where We Are Now. Emp S2. These fuckers.

So Im delusional and like it best when theyre Soft right? So even though S2 lends itself So well to toxicity (and dont get me wrong. Sometimes I Gotta indulge) I rlly like making it cutesy as fuck. Joels obsession and complete infatuation and cute aggression is everything. Hes so infatuated with this guy he doesnt know what to do with himself and just is Relentless. schoolyard “hes bullying you because he likes you” type beats. Hes my moron hes my annoying king. I cannot remember if Ive talked abt my design headcanons fully but Im big on the Jimmy Was Human but Joels god powers are Changing That. I think its subconscious, hes not doing it maliciously, reality just bends to his will too much.

Also. Found my decision moments… these are from July 3rd.

I think. Overall the most enthralling thing about them is the care that underlies everything. That despite the endless teasing and bullying, Joel really genuinely care about Jimmy in a way he struggles to express sometimes. I think its really special and charming and compelling. I just have illnesses about them

#smallidarity #prisspeaks #asks #solidaribeans #empiresshipping #trafficshipping

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spiralemoji · 29 days

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Am i off my head?

I dont know whats wrong with me lately

Jesus Christ, total psycho…

Blah blah blah blah i literally don’t care, um

Guess I’m going to work in a radiology….

I’m so depressed because i found the best stuff for my stupid store and someone tried to cock block me

I need, to get that stuff.

I’m so mad. Like, you don’t understand it’s so stupid but its the fact it was taken away from me that matters

And i need to take pictures of the brand / manufacturer angry emoji

I took an Ativan so hopefully I’ll chill out and then maybe i can somehow sneak off to the store and everything will still be there???

I remember the items… i just DONT REMEMBER THE BRAND AND ITS IMPORTANT

BECAUSE IT FIT REALLY WELL AND IT WAS NICE MATERIAL AND ITS EVERYTHING I WAS LOOKING FOR

AND THEN I’M LIKE OH WELL GUESS I’LL INVENT SOMETHING NEW

BUT LIKE, EVERYTHING WAS PERFECT AND YOU RUINED IT SO YEAH AND THAT TOOK ME LIKE FIVE HOURS

AND I WAS GOING TO HAVE SO MANY HEAD BANDS

ANYWAYS AHHHHHHHHH I JUST NEED A SOURCING AI TO GIVE ME WHAT I WANT BECAUSE I DONT WANT TO SEARCH FOR IT FOR SEVEN HOURS AGAIN PLEASE LORD JESUS HELP ME AND THEN IT COMES IN THE MAIL AND ITS NOT THE EXACT SAME AND ITS NOT THE EXACT SAME PRICE

I JUST WANT TO GO TO TJ MAX

AND THEN I WANT TO GO TO TK MAX

AND HANG OUT WITH JORD, AND BY HANG OUT I MEAN, BECOME HER,

IS THAT, SO MUCH TO FUCKING ASK

OH BUT I SHOULD INVENT SOMETHING NEW AND APPRECIATE WHO YOU ARE BLAH BLAH BLAH

I DONT GIVE A FUCK I JUST WANT TO BE PRETTY AND LIKED IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK FOR

FUCK BUT I HAVE TO DEDICATE MY ENTIRE LIFE TO IT

MEANWHILE I CANT SPEND ANY TIME LIKE DOING ANYTHING ELSE LIKE

THERES ONLY SO MUCH ENERGY FOR ONE PERSON TO DO IN A DAY AND I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING ALL ON MY OWN

AND ITS JUST, TOO MUCH TO POSSIBLY MANAGE ‘FLAWLESSLY’ LIKE AND THEN ON TOP OF THAT YOU KNOW

YOUR MENTAL ILLNESS AND YOUR GOALS AND YOUR BLAH BLAH BLAH

THERES JUST SO MUCH STUPID SHIT TO FUCKING WORRY ABOUT AND I DON’T CARE ABOUT ANY OF IT

AND this tantrum is also because of being broken up with, i broke up with him, he still wants to be with me but i can’t tolerate it like I’m too annoyed and have to fix everything just for like 1 morsel of validation in the form of fucking me like thats not a relationship right so

Where the fuck is my super happy fulfilling relationship

And I’m just pretending to be happy and i go to church and sing songs and clap a long like yayayayay yeah love life1

Meanwhile everything is just…. Compiling like getting worse and worse everything getting worse and I’m like

And everyone else is fine

And i have to pretend to be fine

But its all just….. so frustrating

I can’t get it right like i can’t do anything right

And I’m abused and gaslighted and confused

And traumatized and fucked up

And i just want to slam my door so hard it comes off the hinges and the door frame around it breaks

I want to kill a futon

I want to punch and scratch and kick and scream into the floor and throw my shoes through glass windows

And tear everything apart my clothes, the kitchen, the glassses

I want to throw everything outside and light it ablaze in a big fucking fire i mean even the couch

And i just have to pretend to be calm and take a lot of pills that make my life suck more

So that I’m not so unstable that i scream and cry actually on the outside

And instead just have a whacked out brain on the inside

It’s like ‘oh ur mental illness is Maskable, so u should be fine’

And like that’s not how it works.

I have ocd do you know what that is even like

I have ptsd

Holy fuck, if i don’t take my meds for 4 weeks, i turn into a ball rocking back and forth and sobbing

I don’t even KNOW about what

I can’t even hold my own MEMORY together and i dissociate

I can’t, keep track of myself like

I’m so disorganized, mentally my focus…

I’m a mess like, i can barely speak sometimes I’m so, tangled up in it

I’m not even crying right now I’m just stating the facts

And then I’m going to plainly eat dinner

And take a ride on the boat around winter park

And pretend like this is all i could of ever asked for

And pretend to be nice, and try not to show how depressed i am on the outside

Masking it with, overcompensatory happiness…

This time, just chill. Let’s just chill and, talk it through. And we’ll get there.

The thing is, everything is what they want me to do, and nothing is what i wanted to do

I am controlled like a sim in sims 4

It’s that bad

And i don’t know…. I’ve just been coping. But like,

I need, help like, i don’t know how to get out of the bind I’ve been in it is so long…

And then its like, okay once you get out like, what. Do you do then?

What do you give a fuck about then

Because before it was all about surviving like

How to i 180 out of survival mode and become like,

This brand new person that’s suddenly capable of so much, all my dreams and such

I had to witness them die in your hands, my dreams did

I watched my friends die

I sing about it with total rage and disgust, contempt,

Intense sorrow, tears come out sometimes.

I’m so angry all i can do is play a song, or sing a song

And people fucking clap along.

I just want peace i want to be left alone

I want everyone to shut up, you know

I want time to stand still

I want to correct my mistakes…

I want everything to be perfect as it should of been

Letting go of that childhood that could of been

Accepting the reality of what really happened

Is so very difficult

Halloween is triggering because it’s just a big reminder of childhood

And all the things that went horribly wrong, and i blamed myself for all of it.

Now my inner child wants to dance, wants to take part in all the things i missed out on

Being5, 8, 10, 12, and 15, and 21, and 25. You stole my life from me.

Trying to make me somebody else… set me free. From judgement.

Set me free. From the money.

Set me free.. my spirit inside.

Set me free from all my afflictions, addictions,

Tortured beguiled soul, rotten and discontent,

Set me free from my contempt

And mistakes, and emotions

I can’t believe another person tried me, after everything I’ve been through, demons keep showing up at my door

With smiling faces

When will there be somebody

Who i can trust

I feel like i am in the book of Eli, in the last days,

Carrying some secret book around

That no one understands

And only god is watching… as i wait for the years to pass by,

I pretend and parade another sharade

As i grow closer to, death

Being screwed over in the end

Just like alll the rest of us.

Life feels like a losing game you just can’t win

So i laid all my cards out the table, and forfeit.

People think I’m crazy, i swallowed a pair of dice, and spit them back out, in your whisky on the rocks

And told you to go fuck yourself, and wiped my mouth with your black tie

I hate you, skin dragging, sacks of shit,

Growing older, decaying, rotten in the dirt

Left to die

And what’d they leave us but a gassy decaying carcass

Fuck you and the comfortable death bed you rest on

I spit on your grave. You gave us nothing. And left me with everything to carry.

Fuck your flowers and mourning

My therapist wants me to cry about it

And get high about it,

Smoking weed and taking klonopin,

I could drink a bottle of red wine a night, it doesn’t matter to me nothing numbs the pain

I’m most often just trying to knock myself out

Your abuse and control is is loud

And im stuck, inside a tiny heart shaped box

Screaming to get out. Like cobain…

Silently loud,

All the symptoms are there.

It’s obvious, witnesses to bear.

How long do you think i can keep going like this.

0 notes

bills-bible-basics · 1 year

Text

BOLDLY PREACH THE GOSPEL -- KJV (King James Version) Bible Verse List KJV Bible verse list compiled by #BillKochman for #BillsBibleBasics. Topic: "Boldly Preach the Gospel". Visit https://www.billkochman.com/VerseLists/ to see all my lists. "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." Matthew 5:16, KJV "And it came to pass, when Jesus had ended these sayings, the people were astonished at his doctrine: For he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes." Matthew 7:28-29, KJV "And they went into Capernaum; and straightway on the sabbath day he entered into the synagogue, and taught. And they were astonished at his doctrine: for he taught them as one that had authority, and not as the scribes." Mark 1:21-22, KJV "But, lo, he speaketh BOLDLY, and they say nothing unto him. Do the rulers know indeed that this is the very Christ?" John 7:26, KJV "For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart." Hebrews 4:12, KJV "Now when they saw the BOLDNESS of Peter and John, and perceived that they were unlearned and ignorant men, they marvelled; and they took knowledge of them, that they had been with Jesus . . . And now, Lord, behold their threatenings: and grant unto thy servants, that with all BOLDNESS they may speak thy word, By stretching forth thine hand to heal; and that signs and wonders may be done by the name of thy holy child Jesus. And when they had prayed, the place was shaken where they were assembled together; and they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and they spake the word of God with BOLDNESS." Acts 4:13, 29-31, KJV "Then Peter and the other apostles answered and said, We ought to obey God rather than men." Acts 5:29, KJV "But Barnabas took him, and brought him to the apostles, and declared unto them how he had seen the Lord in the way, and that he had spoken to him, and how he had preached BOLDLY at Damascus in the name of Jesus. And he was with them coming in and going out at Jerusalem. And he spake BOLDLY in the name of the Lord Jesus, and disputed against the Grecians: but they went about to slay him." Acts 9:27-29, KJV "Long time therefore abode they speaking BOLDLY in the Lord, which gave testimony unto the word of his grace, and granted signs and wonders to be done by their hands." Acts 14:3, KJV "And he began to speak BOLDLY in the synagogue: whom when Aquila and Priscilla had heard, they took him unto them, and expounded unto him the way of God more perfectly." Acts 18:26, KJV "And he went into the synagogue, and spake BOLDLY for the space of three months, disputing and persuading the things concerning the kingdom of God." Acts 19:8, KJV "Nevertheless, brethren, I have written the more BOLDLY unto you in some sort, as putting you in mind, because of the grace that is given to me of God," Romans 15:15, KJV "And for me, that utterance may be given unto me, that I may open my mouth BOLDLY, to make known the mystery of the gospel, For which I am an ambassador in bonds: that therein I may speak boldly, as I ought to speak." Ephesians 6:19-20, KJV "According to my earnest expectation and my hope, that in nothing I shall be ashamed, but that with all BOLDNESS, as always, so now also Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life, or by death." Philippians 1:20, KJV "For his letters, say they, are weighty and powerful; but his bodily presence is weak, and his speech contemptible." 2 Corinthians 10:10, KJV "So that we may BOLDLY say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me." Hebrews 13:6, KJV "He was a burning and a shining light: and ye were willing for a season to rejoice in his light." John 5:35, KJV "Quench not the Spirit." 1 Thessalonians 5:19, KJV "Whosoever

therefore shall be ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation; of him also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father with the holy angels." Mark 8:38, KJV If you would like more info regarding the origin of these KJV Bible verse lists, go to https://www.billkochman.com/VerseLists/. Thank-you! https://www.billkochman.com/Blog/index.php/boldly-preach-the-gospel-kjv-king-james-version-bible-verse-list/?feed_id=64102&_unique_id=645b35d037758&BOLDLY%20PREACH%20THE%20GOSPEL%20--%20KJV%20%28King%20James%20Version%29%20Bible%20Verse%20List

#All_Posts #KJV_Bible_Verse_Lists #bible #bible_study #bill_kochman #bills_bible_basics #bold #boldly #boldness #gospel #king_james_version #kjv #list #preach #scripture #scriptures #topical #verse #verses

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thebloggerbloggerfun · 4 years

Text

@jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time @katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

LINK

Thanks for letting me write this, guys!!

AO3 (2.1k)

The thing about Heaven was that it was whatever you wanted it to be, and most of its residents wanted it to be familiar.

Technically, Dean didn’t need to fill his car up on gas anymore, but there was still a gas station just down the street from where his new home was placed. He didn’t need to sleep, but he still had a large king-sized bed he made sure to make use of at least once a day. He didn’t need to eat, but there was a thriving supermarket that catered to whatever he was feeling like eating and always boasted the freshest ingredients for when he wanted to get a little fancy with his cooking.

Like today, for example.

Bobby had said he doubted Dean could make a proper souffle, so obviously Dean had to make the old man eat his words - and a souffle.

Dean stared at all of the different options of eggs, trying to decide if “free-range” vs. “organic” actually meant anything in Heaven, or if it was just meant to give him some sort of familiarity.

He grabbed the “free-range” option and moved on to the dairy.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye in the meat section across the way, and the way his heart stopped in his chest when he turned to look would have killed him if he wasn’t already dead.

It was Cas.

Cas, who Dean had spent every day thinking about since he’d left. Cas, who Dean had been trying to find ever since Bobby told him he was still around. Cas, who Dean still had unfinished business with.

He’d spend hours in bed, staring at the ceiling of his room and rehearsing just what he’d say when he saw him again, but in those scenarios Cas had shown up on his doorstep or in the passenger seat of his car where they could have a moment to just be .

He’d never been buying hamburger meat.

Dean rushed forward, cart forgotten, and skidded to a halt in front of Cas, just as he looked up in surprise.

“I love you -” Dean said in a rush, heart pounding, head reeling, “Of course I love you. You’re - fuck - you’re everything I could ever want and I’m - I’m so damn sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t have me, too.”

Cas blinked at him, and it was in that moment Dean realized something was wrong.

His expression, his hair, the way he moved, the way he was dressed - all of it was wrong.

None of it was Cas, he’d just been too overwhelmed to see it.

“Oh, uh... hey Dean,” Not-Cas said, and finished putting his selected meat in his basket, “I didn’t didn’t know that you died. Um, if you’re looking for Castiel -“

Dean turned and ran out of the store.

What were the fucking chances that in all of Heaven, he and Cas’s old vessel were neighbors?

Dean gunned the gas pedal on his car as he drove endlessly, trying to walk himself through what exactly had happened the day before.

Jimmy Novak was here.

Jimmy Novak who - last Dean checked - hated him.

Dean had just spewed his feelings all over him without even thinking about the possibility that he wasn’t Cas. He’d been wearing a sweater vest for crying out loud - but he was willing to forgive himself for that one because he didn’t really know how Cas would dress if he had the choice.

His hopes had soared so high when he’d seen the familiar figure, only to be dashed the moment Jimmy had opened his mouth. They sounded absolutely nothing alike - and Dean yearned for the deep gravel of Castiel’s greeting.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened.

Where was Cas?

Didn’t he know that there was nothing keeping them apart now?

In what could only be an act of fate smiling down on him, Dean zoomed around a corner near the Heavenly library, and instantly had to stomp on the brakes of the Impala as a trenchcoat-clad figure stepped into the previously empty crosswalk.

Old habits die hard - Dean was still going to brake for Heavenly pedestrians, especially ones that looked like Cas.

Cas turned to look at him, eyes wide, and Dean shoved the driver’s side door open in a panic. The trench coat was unmistakable this time.

“Cas! Cas - don’t go okay? I gotta -“

Cas shook his head sharply and let out a breath.

“No - Jesus Christ - it’s still me, you idiot.”

Dean gaped at him as his brain tried to catch up with the conflicting bits of information it was processing.

“...what?” He heard himself saying.

Had he just wanted it to be Cas so bad that he’d ignored all the signs?

Jimmy gestured at himself like it was enough of an explanation.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“But - but you’re wearing his trenchcoat! ” Dean said, waved at it like maybe Jimmy hadn’t realized he was walking around as the mockery of the angel who’d once shared a living space with him.

Jimmy placed an affronted hand on his own chest.

“It was my trenchcoat!”

Frustration boiled inside of him and Dean quickly slid back into the car and slammed the door shut behind him.

He sped off, once again running from what could have been.

Dean was sulking under a pile of blankets in his bed when there was a knock at his door.

He ignored it.

After a few moments of silence, the knocking came again, louder and more insistent this time.

Grumbling to himself, Dean threw the blankets off and trudged down the stairs, flinging open the door with a scowl.

A person with nearly combed hair was standing on the doorstep holding a six-pack of beer in one hand and had a sticker on his shirt that said, ‘Hello, my name is Jimmy’.

“Very funny.” Dean said flatly.

“It’s not funny. It’s just in case you try to kiss me or something.” Jimmy held up the six-pack expectantly. “Can I come in?”

Dean didn’t appreciate the ribbing, but he didn’t mind the beer.

And after accosting him twice he might as well let the guy do what he wanted.

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean grumbled and left the door open as he walked back inside and flopped onto his couch. “Why are you here? Don’t you hate me?”

Jimmy hummed as he set the beer down on the coffee table and took a seat opposite Dean.

“I don’t not hate you.” He said with a shrug. “But last time we talked you were trying to convince me to chain myself to a comet again and I can’t say I appreciated it.”

Dean grunted in acknowledgment.

“I’ve been in heaven for a while now. It’s nice here. I take a yoga class with my wife.” Jimmy smiled at him. “I think I’m in a much better mental space now to consider liking you, especially if we’re going to be neighbors.”

Dean winced.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like Jimmy, it was just… that was Cas’s face. It wasn’t , but it was. Was he really going to have to be constantly taunted with it?

“Look man - I’m sorry about - you know. That.” Dean waved a hand in the air generally. “But you don’t have to do all this. I’ll stop harassing you.”

“That would be nice,” Jimmy said, opening one of the cans and taking a swig, “So, considering the things you’ve said to me, I take it he finally told you he loved you?”

Dean paused, still raw every time he thought about it.

“You knew?”

Jimmy smirked.

“That angel’s love for you permeated both of our beings so potently I’m amazed I don’t love you.” Jimmy said, like it was the kind of fact you could drop casually. “Though even I will admit, as a happily married heterosexual man, that having a man as handsome as you proclaim your love to me in the middle of a grocery store was very exciting.”

Dean dropped his head into his hands and groaned loudly.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Jimmy said, “That first one was pretty good. I’m sure he’s going to love it.”

“He’s never gonna hear it.” Dean muttered.

“Sure he will. You’ve already practiced it twice.”

“I can’t find him!” Dean said, and looked back up, “He’s here somewhere, and I can’t find him. It’s killing me.”

Jimmy held out a beer can.

“Good thing you’re already dead.”

Begrudgingly, Dean accepted the beer and opened it.

“I just. . . I just wanna see him again.” Dean took a long drink. “I want to talk to him. Tell him everything. Share everything. If he wants that.”

Dean let out a long breath, expecting Jimmy to interject with a quip.

He looked over at him when nothing happened, and Jimmy was smiling at him in a way that Dean could only describe as ‘fond’.

“What?” Dean said, indignantly.

“Nothing.” Jimmy said innocently. “You’re just not what I expected.”

Dean looked away.

“Anyway, you asked why I’m here,” Jimmy took another drink, “I’ve seen Castiel.”

“What?” Dean jumped to his feet, beer can dropped to the floor and forgotten about. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I’m an enigma,” Jimmy shrugged a shoulder and leaned back against the plush chair, “Anyway, I wanted to let you know as someone who has literally been in Castiel’s head - I'm pretty sure I know the reason he’s not showing himself to you.”

“Well, fucking spill.”

Jimmy paused.

“Why do you love him?”

Of all the things Dean had been expecting Jimmy to say - this wasn’t it.

Dean sat back down.

“Why?” He asked, a little breathless. “Why does it matter?”

Jimmy shrugged again.

“I guess -” Dean said, trying to unspool his emotions from the knot they’d made in his heart, “He’s - he’s Cas. He cares . . . so much about everyone and - and he’s selfless and kind and he fucking saved me in more ways than just one. He’s always been there for me and Sam and he’s just… he’s just. He’s just good . I’ll never deserve him, but I want to try.”

Dean sucked in a deep breath.

“He pulls me away from the edge, man. I just love him.”

Jimmy nodded once, set down his beer can, and in a bizarre turn of events, began yelling at Dean’s ceiling.

“Did you hear that, Castiel? Not one goddamn thing about how you look! Nothing about me or my vessel!”

Dean stared, dumbfounded.

“Wh-”

“He doesn’t care what you look like! Can you please just come talk to him so I can stop playing marriage counselor for you two?”

Care how he - what?

What was happening?

Before Dean could fully compile all of the new information, there was a hesitant knock at the front door.

Dean whipped his head towards Jimmy, who was smiling in satisfaction.

Nearly tripping over himself, Dean rushed to the door faster than he’d rushed towards anything in his life, and swung it open.

In front of him was the wavelength of celestial intent that Dean had always known existed inside of the vessel of Jimmy Novak - the glint of angelic creation he’d caught glimpses of in the glow of his eyes and in his healing touch. The being was massive and stretched high into the sky with what was (maybe three? four??) pairs of wings scraping the clouds even further above everything. He was flaming rings and rotating divine faces that Dean could barely comprehend - he was raw power and all-knowing eyes.

On the front of his form was a sticker that read, ‘Hello, my name is Castiel’.

“. . . Hello Dean.” The voice rumbled through the air like thunder.

“Cas?” Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I - yes. I’m sorry. I lost my vessel to the Empty - this was the only way -”

“I love you, too.”

The rotating faces on the form towering above him froze in place.

“I do! I love you, Cas. Okay? You didn’t let me say it back before - and if I’ve ever made you feel like I couldn’t love you back, I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve better.”

“. . . you love me?”

Dean nodded, his heart clenching at the disbelief he could hear in Cas’s voice.

“ Even as this?”

“You’ve always been this.” Dean swallowed. “I fell in love with the angel, not the vessel.”

“Dean. . .”

Dean smiled up at him in understanding.

“Just a shame that we’ll have to get a bigger house.”

“Oh I can -”

And as Dean looked on, Castiel began to shrink. The form didn’t change - he was still as striking as he’d been the first time with his wings and halos and faces still firmly in place - but he was now maybe one foot taller than Dean instead of one hundred.

“- make myself more manageable.”

Dean grinned and took a step forward, giddy and thrilled that this was finally, actually happening

He reached up, resting a hand on one of the divine faces.

“Bite-sized.” He murmured fondly.

Jimmy’s voice cut through the moment from somewhere behind them.

“Just so you two know - I. Am. Moving!”

#spn #destiel #destiel ficlet #spn coda #jimmy novak #akasdflks I barely know what this is guys I'm sorry #sometimes I write

1K notes · View notes

tedturneriscrazy · 3 years

Text

Here's Eclipse Lake, an episode that has been highly anticipated! Will it top Knock, Knock, Knockin' On Hooty's Door?

I'll skip the pretense: No. It won't.

You'll see under the cut.

Hmm, that list of ingredients for the Grimwalker...I'll let other people theorize about this (like @sepublic ), but it sure looks like a thing

Guess the mysterious green goo won't cut it, huh?

Belos face reveal already?! Huh, didn't expect it so soon.

Oh, no, he's hot! (And I'm mad about it)

Still an ass, though

Now we know why Hunter was wearing a different outfit (because people fixated on that for some reason)

Amity with the clipboard gives me strong Dipper vibes

GHOST! My beloved!

I need a moment because CAT!

(Also, someone pointed out earlier that Ghost was based on Dana's cat, and that's super obvious in hindsight)

Raine?! Oh, wait, you mean rain. Sigh.

Eda gets training tips from DBZ confirmed

(Also Amity's face when reacting to Eda's explanation is priceless)

Oh God Eda's a weeb I need another moment

Damn, Amity just straight up calling Eda old

Oh, loopy Luz

(The abomination holding the tissue box is adorable for many reasons)

Yeah, don't want Luz to eat the McGuffin

I have several questions about those Tamagotchis that I'll refrain from listing here

Amity your Odalia is showing

Girlfriend counter: 1

(Yes I am introducing a counting gag, deal with it)

Was wondering if they were ever gonna reference the dissection incident. We've come a long way, baby!

Oh, so that's what everyone was looking at

Luz honey your enthusiasm is admirable but no

Luz burrito is quite cute, though

Girlfriend counter: 2

(Damn, still wild to think that that's the case)

Just occurred to me that "Boots" is probably shortened from "Bossyboots" from earlier

Guess the Luz hiss compilation needs to be updated again

Those tunnels ain't the only thing around here that's unstable, amirite?

Oops, guess Kiki was justified, after all

Maybe don't talk so loudly about your plans, dude

That is her son, get it right!

Serves you right for having that stupid strand of hair sticking out like that

Is this just the episode where everyone dunks on White Boy? Because I can totally get behind that.

Already mentioned this, but I am loving the parallels between Katara and Amity with that bottle of abomination goo. Insert obligatory "Two Nickels" meme here about Mae Whitman.

We really are just dunking on the white boy and I am living for it

Hooty had to get it from somewhere, I suppose

Nothing says mother-son bonding like shooting things at each other (see also: Separate Tides)

I'm sure the magic bouncing off the veins won't come into play later at all

Oh well, at least the echolocation looked cool

At this point Amity would kill Hunter for a Klondike bar

Wait why does Hooty need a chair

Willow with the galaxy brain ideas

"A bad but sad boy" Luz is a genius at succinctly summing people up

Kikimora continues to be unhinged. Ironically she's not wrong about Hunter.

Motherfucker stop acting like you know what that says

(Also, projecting much?)

Girlfriend counter: 3

Friendly reminder that Hunter is still an antagonist

Uh oh

UH OH

I know someone mentioned Willow having the brain cell, but honestly it seemed like Luz had it this whole time. And that's not good.

WHY IS FOOL'S BLOOD EVEN A THING

Aaaaand cue the getting screwed over

Further reminder that he's still an antagonist (Apparently there's a vocal segment who's Really Mad at him that seem to forget this fact)

You unhand Ghost right now!! And Amity too, I guess.

(I kid, she's literally my second favorite character)

For what she did to Raine it warms my heart to know Kiki has had zero peace of mind

Wait, the Abomatons are Transformers?! Okay, that's kind of awesome, actually. Alador might be a shit dad but he is a brilliant inventor.

Chucking kids off cliffs is a surpisingly common pastime in the Boiling Isles

Owlbert no!

Eda did spend literal decades fighting the Owl Beast within, so I guess she can't be blamed for not thinking to talk to it

Also hurry up guys I'm very concerned about Owlbert

Fuck yeah Harpy Milf!

Yay Ghost returns!

She's glad they're okay (I didn't need to take this, I just thought it was cute. Also this is surprisingly high quality considering I just took a photo of my TV screen)

Oh, so they do have video games in the Demon Realm. That or Luz introduced them.

Trailer shot!

Oh dear, we about to have a fight over the key

Wow, being so high ranking under Belos is really bad for mental health

Jesus Christ Belos what have you been putting in this poor kid's head?

Leave it to King to give radical recontextualizations

Amity, I'm glad you remembered/realized this about Luz, please don't let the sad white boy play you like that again

Also, I appreciate the gesture you're making, and it's a wonderful summary of your character development, but goddamnit he's gonna go for that key because he's STILL AN ANTAGONIST

"Being nice usually works for Luz!" A) Not always, and B) Amity I love you but Luz you are not. A valiant attempt nonetheless.

Ooh, cool fight scene!

Always lovely to see such superb animation

I was privately griping about not seeing Amity use magic for so long, and now I am fed

Don't think I didn't hear the glass breaking

Appreciate your ass from a hole in the ground, Golden Boy!

(jk I don't actually feel that strongly about him still. That kind of threat still isn't cool, though)

Oh so that's why it's the Common Mold!

It's kinda cute, actually. Or maybe it's just because it's Luz.

TIL Hooty is heat resistant

Apparently Owl Beast just wanted a snack

Girlfriend counter: 4

Also love how calling Amity her awesome girlfriend is literally the first thing Luz says to her upon returning.

Yesssss return the hug! You deserve it!

(I know there are higher quality versions of this screenshot, I just didn't feel like looking around)

King demands huggies, too! (And gets 'em)

Reminder that Amity is smart as hell. I knew that glass breaking indicated something!

So once again I've been had. I let the fandom trick me into thinking this episode would be way more intense. Guess that one screenshot was from the next episode.

Overall this was...fine. Some nice Lumity moments, Harpy Eda strutting her stuff, that gorgeously animated fight sequence; those were all lovely.

I do wish Willow and Gus had a bit more to do. And I'm still rather unenthusiastic about Hunter, to be honest. I've seen his type several times before, and the path they have for him is rather obvious. I may never share the fandom's love for him, and I guess I'll have to deal with that.

Anybody who says this was better than KKKOHD is a damn fool.

Mid season finale next week! I think Yesterday's Lie will finally bring the pain!

#the owl house #amity blight #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #king clawthorne #toh hooty #willow park #gus porter #emperor belos #toh hunter #toh ghost #kikimora #toh s2 spoilers #the owl house s2 spoilers #the owl house season 2 spoilers #the owl house spoilers #toh spoilers

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caiuscassiuss · 4 years

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Birched⎮D. Sicheng (M) P.2

Description: There was something that lurked beneath that pretty boy smile of Dong Sicheng— something dark, something dangerous… something you knew you would get pulled into once you got too curious. (Or, your ill-tempered coworker turns out to be your dominant.)

Part One is HERE

Genre: BDSM/ enemies to lovers winwin! smut | romance | angst WC: 11k+ Warnings: graphic smut (dom! sicheng + sub! reader, BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, Submission, and Masochism) choking, rough sex), taboo relationship, blatant sexism, TW: mentions of an abusive relationship

(A/N: Thank you to my amazing beta @won-markiepooh-woo for helping me. This wouldn’t have been possible without you!)

Saturday February 1st, 2020

Y/N’s Apartment

10 AM HKT

The little jingle of a FaceTime call echoed through your silent apartment, and you snuggled into the sheets of your bed.

“Hello? Kun huang?”

A flash black hair and a sweet smile appeared within the view of the camera.

“Huang Gua!” you exclaimed.

Instantly, the happy smile slipped off his face and transformed into an annoyed expression.

“Can you not? We’ve been over this,” he complained.

“Oh come on! It’s so funny,” you jibed.

“It’s not.”

“You only used to eat cucumbers for years. You earned that name yourself.”

“So?” he snorted. “You used to eat shrimp chips as a kid. I don’t call you shrimp, do I?” A devious expression flashed over his face.

“Kun Huang…” you warned.

“Maybe I should start now. Right, shrimp?”

“Oh my god, stop!”

“No, shrimp. I can keep going, you know.”

“Okay, fine, fine. I submit!” You laughed.

He chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

“So how are you now, Hendery? How’s your mom and dad? Oh my gosh, Hengwai!”

“I’m doing fine, as are mom and dad. Hengwai misses her little sister. They all want you to call them more. Sometimes I think they miss you more than me.” He pouted.

“Awww, poor baby. But give them my well wishes too! I miss everyone so much,” you said. For some reason, tears welled in your eyes.

Obviously, Hendery could tell you were about to start crying and started to panic.

“Y/N? Talk to me. Oh, you know I can’t take it if you start crying!”

He never really could. Even after many years spent together in your childhood, he was still awkward as hell around your tears.

You waved him off, swiping the tears. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just so lonely around here.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine! I swear!”

“Literally, one word and I’m on a flight to Hong Kong. I’m not playing,” he said gravely.

“Hendery, no. Besides, don’t you have some farms to run? I would never expect you to do that.”

“One word, Y/N. Just one.” He looked you dead in the eye.

You looked away. “Anyways, how are your farms going?”

A smile split his face and his eyes sparked. “Guess who just got their hundredth farm?”

Your jaw dropped. “No way, you’re fucking joking! One hundred?! I’m so proud of you! Kun Huang!” you squealed.

“Yeah, I know right? It’s so weird knowing so many people depend on me for their livelihoods now. I get sort of scared when I sit back and think about it…”

As Kun Huang went on about his day to day troubles in agriculture, a small, wistful smile played upon your lips. Why didn’t you just stay back and fall in love with Kun Huang? It would have been so easy. Being with Kun Huang was like breathing, and you could’ve spent the rest of your life like this. No Minghao, no BDSM, and most importantly, no… him.

Dolos.

Master?

Sicheng.

You hated how smoothly the puzzle pieces fit together. Sicheng always left early on Fridays, even though he always stayed late. At office parties, he lacked a significant other by his side, even when many would drop everything if he so much as winked at them.

It was hard not to think about him. You had started to feel an increase in your heartbeat whenever you thought of Dolos before Wednesday. You had originally wanted to know who was behind Dolos’ mask and if he returned those feelings. But, fuck, he would be so mad if he found out who you were.

Not to mention, how humiliating it would be if he knew. You had staked everything on being a cold-hearted bitch when Sicheng took particular pleasure in sneering at “the inherent submissiveness” of her gender. So if he found out Dove, who liked to be slapped during sex, and her, the la dame sans merci of the company, were the same person, it would destroy any chance of credibility you may have had in his eyes.

This was all one big mess. One big, gigantic and catastrophic mess. For so long you had rigorously kept your professional and personal lives apart, but the universe had conspired against you: to make the best dominant you ever had to also be your work nemesis.

Some higher being was laughing at you, you knew it.

Sunday February 2nd, 2020

The Dong Family Villa on the Shek O Peninsula, Hong Kong

1 PM HKT

A curl of disgust twisted his lips as he looked down on the lawn party going down below him.

“Don’t you look happy, Sicheng.”

Sicheng acknowledged ChengCheng out of the corner of his eye and went back to glaring at the party in contempt.

“This is not how I wanted today to go.”

His childhood friend snorted and plopped himself down in a lawn chair, contemplating the blond haired man.

Sicheng spun around and picked up his glass of wine, downing the drink in one gulp. He settled himself next to ChengCheng with a frown.

“I just wanted to come here and fucking relax, but, no, my parents just had to use it for the fucking party. Fete. What-fucking-ever.” He exhaled loudly and ran his hands through his hair.

Chengcheng looked over the balcony railing curiously. “Looks like a luncheon to me.”

“Fuck off.”

“Christ, what’s up your ass?”

“Just some work stuff. It’s nothing.”

The brown-haired man frowned. “Then why aren’t you at Black’s then? Nothing can’t be resolved by a good fuck.”

At the mention of the club, a pained expression flashed over Sicheng’s face and his knuckles inadvertently tightened around the stem of his glass. The tension that had been in shoulders wounded itself up even more and this clued ChengCheng in.

Something other than work had Sicheng in knots. Very rarely did the blond man ever show he was angry—not even when his father lashed him as a child, nor when the family forced him to work for the company—so he was evidently very troubled by this ‘something’.

Sicheng’s phone rang and broke the silence. The man himself fished it out of his back pocket irritatedly.

“Excuse me for a moment, ChengCheng. I need to take this phone call.”

“Sicheng speaking,” he spoke as he stalked into the study.

“Hello sir, how are you—”

“Did you get the information or not?” Sicheng asked, cutting off the family’s retainer. His leg bounced, as he sat against the desk and he ran a weary hand through his hair.

“A-ah, unfortunately, Black’s doesn’t record pseudonyms digitally or on paper…”

“Fuck!” Sicheng yelled. Mr. Lau just had to be fucking careful, he thought irritably.

“... However, sir, I was able to obtain a membership list since the club was digitally updating their monthly list. I then compared it to the list from the previous month and found several missing names, indicative of them terminating their membership. I have compiled a dossier of several females that match your description of Dove and forwarded it to you.”

Sicheng quickly logged into his laptop, his blood rushing through his ears. The identity of the most perfect submissive he’s ever had could literally be sitting in his inbox right now.

With trembling fingers, he opened the attachment.

Wang Fang, age 25—

“Sir?”

The blond man glared at his phone. “Thank you for your service, Liu Wei. Goodbye.”

Wang Fang was a tall, spindly woman with a face like a horse. The policy of privacy by masks was kind to her at Black’s. However, the jaw was all wrong and he knew in his gut she was not his Dove.

He scrolled to the next page. Leila Williams, age 27—British expat, was absolutely gorgeous. But, even through the screen, she exuded an unshakable aura of self-assurance. A dominatrix, probably, so that excluded her from his search.

He went through 2 or 3 more documents; each one too plain or too ordinary to be Dove.

Y/N L/N, age XX.

Sicheng blinked rapidly, sagging into his office chair.

Y/N is—was—a member at Black’s?

The picture provided was the one from her LinkedIn profile: a professional headshot with a grey background. She was smiling tightly, coldly—just as she was in the office. The other image provided instantly tented his pants.

It was her, clearly on a night out. She was in attire that flattered her body and he could easily see himself running his hands over her. Y/N looked fucking fantastic with her unbound hair, so unlike her tight updos at the office. However, what drew his eyes was the most vibrant shade of red painted on her lips, which was parted slightly as she was laughing.

He recognized that lipstick. The same shade of firetruck red had been smeared across Dove’s cheeks many, many times. YSL Rouge Satin Lipstick—the one he told her he liked and she, like a good girl, had religiously worn.

Could that mean…?

Glancing at the side bar, he noticed there was one more page left in the dossier. Please let the next one be Dove…

His hopes were instantly deflated. Kwon Myunghee was too old and too artificial to be his gorgeous submissive.

With his heart in his throat, he scrolled back to Y/N’s page. Enlarging the picture of her laughing, he put a hand over her eyes and leaned back to observe.

Sicheng would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that mouth. Red fuck me! lipstick on an equally fuckable mouth parted in pleasure, or screaming his name while strung up on a cross. He would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that neck, covered in purple and red hickies or his fingermarks. An absolute damn fool.

Yet, at this moment, he would’ve given anything to be one.

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Y/N was… Dove? And Dove… was Y/N?

So why did she leave? How did she end up at Black’s? Did she know? Did she end up there on purpose? Why—

Eventually, all the questions piled up in his head until he was left winded. Sicheng buried his head in his hands, pulling at his blond locks and breathing heavily. Something was bubbling in his chest and—

He started to laugh. He cackled, howled, at his shitstorm of misfortune, luck, and confusion until he was sprawled undignified on the Oriental carpet, staring up at the intricate wood carvings on the ceiling.

Monday February 3rd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

6 PM HKT

Shutting the door to your office, you collapsed into your chair and massaged your temples.

Today was the day Mr. Lee had left the office, leaving his official resignation. The top sales officials (including an off-color, brooding Sicheng) gathered in his office to congratulate him and give him an official goodbye. What was supposed to be a quick meet-up turned into afternoon drinking when Mr. Lee pulled out the good liquor from a secret cabinet underneath his desk. You accepted a drink with a grimace, but Sicheng declined and remained uncharacteristically detached the entire time. Granted, you too were detached from the conversation, uncomfortable with the lewd retirement and mistress jeers spouted by the older sales officials as they steadily got drunker and less inhibited.

As the time ended and a consensus to leave had been reached, you thought you could escape and actually work... that was until Mr. Lee walked alongside you and stuck himself in the elevator with you.

The bastard had the audacity to grope your ass in the crowded elevator. You shivered, remembering the awful and grimy feeling as his hot breath whispered in your ear that he was available any time for a “catch-up”.

This day was a mess. You had a shit-ton of work to catch up due to that fucking meeting and you had been sexually harrassed; you were also anxious about the promotion and, on top of that, you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Sicheng.

Huffing, you ate some red-bean bread as you powered up your desktop. This was fucking ridiculous. You knew Sicheng had noticed your odd, reticent behavior around him and this skittishness was impeding your ability to work. Well, no better way to forget about your problems was to solve other ones at work.

For the next two hours, you slogged through work emails and analytics as the sun set over Kowloon Bay. Your hair had been unbound and your blazer had been messily thrown over the back of your chair as your work progressed. Since most of the office had left by now, you figured it was safe to relax in your office.

It was night time by the time you had finished your last project and you sat back in your chair, staring at the skyline. Was this how your life destined to be? At the top, surrounded by the comforts of life, but alone?

A knock sounded at the door, jolting you out of your thoughts.

Who the fuck would be at the office at 8 PM?

“Come in.”

You caught sight of a golden head of hair slipping inside of your office and you sighed. Of course, it was Sicheng.

He took a seat unbidden and stared at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. His eyes roamed the contours and curves of your features.

You arched an eyebrow. “Can I help you with anything, Sicheng? I’m about to leave the office.”

He fought with himself inwardly, his mouth opened and closed several times before he finally settled on what he wanted to say. “I’d like to ask a question.”

You adjusted yourself in the chair. “Feel free.”

From his blazer’s pocket, he pulled out an aged sheet of paper and slowly opened it, before setting it in front of you. Sicheng settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his lap, the lights of the Hong Kong skyline playing across his face and making his sharp features stand out.

“Do you recognize this?”

The blood literally froze in your veins as your eyes caught sight of your handwriting in the letter, along with the tear-stains that blotched the paper and the text. Your heartbeat rose to your throat and all you felt was the blood rushing in your ears.

“Y/N?” he prodded.

You gulped and straightened out your top, your fingers trembling as you did so.

“No, I don’t. W-who’s Dolos? Why does this concern me?” you lied, stumbling a bit.

He watched you, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

“Don’t lie to me, Dove.”

“I-Dove? My name is Y/N,” you replied shakily. Grabbing your purse, you hurriedly stuffed all your personal belongings in while avoiding catching his seething stare. “Excuse me, I’d really like to get home.”

His jaw clenched and his palm twitched as he saw you had no desire to come clean.

“Look at me.”

Unthinking, you ceased all movements, put your trembling hands in your lap and looked up at him. “Sir?”

Your eyes widened and you slapped a hand over your mouth; your eyes darted around the room in search for an escape. You felt akin to a caged animal as he grinned meanly, incongruous on his cherubic features.

“That’s what I thought.”

“No—”

“You thought you could get away with this? You thought you could fucking play me?!”

You were aghast at seeing Dolos and Sicheng finally merging together in front of your eyes, and the result was grotesquely beautiful. His grin slipped off his face and twisted into a malevolent sneer. The naked fire in Dolos' gaze was finally unveiled in Sicheng’s eyes and, for the first time, you could see who Sicheng really was.

“Answer me, Dove—Y/N! Fuck, I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Sicheng shouted, running his hands through his hair while he paced around your office.

You stared unblinkingly at the bookshelf at the corner of the room. Fuck, this was all your nightmares coming true. You were going to be ruined and he was going to laugh on and on now that he knew you and Dove were the same.

“It was never supposed to end up like this,” you whispered hoarsely, tears welling up underneath your lashes.

“How was it supposed to end, huh? Fuck, you strung me along for six months—half a fucking year—”

“I didn’t fucking know, you ass! I wouldn’t have touched you with a ten foot pole if I knew who you were!” you hissed.

He laughed harshly. “You did a hell of a lot more than touch me, Dove. But after you got your fix, you pretended that this never happened.”

“You would’ve done the same, so this never did happen. Walk out right now and this will have never happened and we can go back to our normal, spiteful dynamic—”

“You’re out of your fucking mind, if you think—”

“You don’t understand, Sicheng! Can’t you see I’ll be ruined by this? That we’ll both be ruined by this? I can’t afford that!”

“So you thought to just leave me? With just a fucking letter and nothing else?”

“I didn’t know, okay! I didn’t know what to do!”

“You lied to me, Y/N. Fucking lied to my face!”

“I had to! Because you and I were never supposed to find out!”

Sicheng moved to yell, but clamped his jaw shut. “You lying, cheating, slut,” he seethed.

Your mouth trembled for a moment at the sheer vitriol that sprouted from his lips, but you stood tall. “You know what? Maybe I am. But I can live with that if you’d just fucking let it go!”

“You think I’d be able to let go of this?!” He cupped your jaw roughly and pulled you into a hungry kiss.

It wasn’t a smooth kiss—not one with even a hint of finesse. Lips smashed into lips, with tongue and teeth grappling against each other as his hands bruised your wrists.

Your back hit your desk and he swept your belongings off the desk haphazardly, letting go of your chin to lift you onto the desk with no effort.

“Forget my tongue on your skin? Forget my hands in between your thighs?” he murmured between hungry dips of his tongue. “I’ll fucking show you.”

He kissed down your neck, stopping to nip at your collarbone, and left a trail of stinging lovebites all over your shoulders. Sicheng’s hips pinned you into the desk as he popped each button of your blouse, hurriedly ripping it to the side to leave more hickies upon your chest and breasts.

You moaned as he pushed the cups of your bra down, using his wicked tone to swipe complicated patterns but never once touching your tips. Finally, he nipped at them hard causing you to squeal embarrassingly.

“S-sicheng,” you whimpered, gripping his hair as he pushed up your skirt.

The blond man carelessly pulled your underwear aside and thrusted two fingers in.

“Fuck!” you gasped, as you buried your red face in the crook of his neck.

You couldn’t see it, but you knew he was smirking smugly so your hands drifted down to his tented trousers and gripped his erection hard.

“You wanna fucking play? Let’s play, baby,” he grunted and hastily unbuckled his belt. His glorious cock sprung up in the space between your thighs.

Sicheng pushed your back down onto the desk, leaving him to tower over you. Without warning, he roughly pushed his cock into your slit.

You both groaned at the pleasurable friction. Fuck, how could you forget this? His length stretching you out deliciously? His broad shoulders heaving in exertion?

He bottomed out slowly, stilling as his hips pressed into yours. A sly smile glanced over his face as his hand drifted over your neck.

“Sicheng! You asshole, fucking move!” you said to him, thrusting your own hips weakly for effect.

His devilish smile split his angelic features, and he shook his head. “Wrong name, Dove.”

His hips pushed into yours roughly and you whined, scratching at the edges of your desk. Sicheng withdrew just as quickly and thrusted in again, watching the lust ripple upon your expression. He had missed the way your left eyebrow ticked when he brushed against your G-Spot, your nose scrunching as you clasped his shoulders. Finally seeing your full expressions fulfilled something in him that he didn’t care to reflect upon.

After deep, staccato thrusts that had you gasping for breath, he settled into a smooth rhythm. You slapped a hand over your mouth as your back bowed, thrusting your breasts up to his hungry perusal. Unable to resist temptation—the godless Tantalus he was—he settled his plump lips over your nipples, raised his eyes to yours, and sucked.

Even with your palm practically stuffed in your lips, your keen echoed around the room loudly and slick dripped down your thighs, making the desk underneath your bottom sticky and wet.

He tsked, lifting his head up and looked deeply into your eyes. A slight grin settled over his lips and Sicheng tilted his head mockingly. “Oh sweet girl, haven’t you forgotten we’re in an office?” His eyes darkened even more. “I’ll have to keep you quiet, then, whore.”

His featherlight touches on your rib cage was replaced with a bruising grasp to your throat, stealing the air out of you. His wrist settled into your collar bone and his slender fingers mimicked playing the piano, placing pressure on different parts on your throat to an unheard rhythm. The blood rushed to your ears, the dizzying sensation of it blurring your sight and distorting your thoughts. The veins on his forehand, twisting and rippling in the light, caught your vision and he moved—ever so roughly—into you.

Sicheng set a new pace, stretching your legs even wider and your head fell back onto the desk with a thunk. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe; you just felt the numbing sort of pleasure that radiated from your pussy.

“Fucking slut,” he gasped. “You’ve bewitched me, haven’t you? Wrapped yourself around my brain and haven’t let me so much as breathe without thinking about you.” His grip tightened around your neck. “I’ll show you.”

Suddenly, your phone on the floor rang and you both froze. He released the grip on your neck and bent down.

His back was like one of those old sketches the masters of the age practiced with, the light played upon his back and his muscles rippled under his skin—belying the power hidden within him.

“Who the fuck is Kunhuang,” he said flatly, wrath bubbling in his words.

You sat up. “H-he’s a friend. Nobody. No one.”

“See you soon, love,” he read mockingly. “Call me when you have time.”

Sicheng crowded into your space, your eyes jumping around to avoid looking at his incensed face.

“Kunhuang.” He spat like it was filth upon his lips. “You left me for him?”

Feeling his constrained fierceness and his frantic gaze, you pushed harshly at his chest and bared your teeth at him. “It’s not like that. He’s my childhood friend!”

His rage bubbled to the surface and his nostrils flared. It was all the warning you had before he suddenly took your hips and flipped, forcing a scream out of you.

Your chest and breasts now pressed against your desk. Sicheng tugged you down to his hips, lifting one of your legs to rest on your desk and exposed your core to him shamefully.

“I’ll take you from behind like the whore you are,” he stated. His rough tenor the grating upon your ears and scraping upon your skin.

He lined up and thrusted hard and you bit your lip, cheek against your deck and tears streaming down your face. It felt so good to be in his embrace, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock rub against your muscles.

Soon, you felt that feeling rising in your stomach, burning behind his eyelids as your orgasm began to build. His hands grasped your throat and he pulled, bowing your back to his chest and forcing his mouth to yours.

Teeth and tongue clashed and his cock hit this spot in you and you screamed into his mouth, tensing up beneath him as you shuddered painfully.

A grunt left him as he felt your muscles nearly strangle his cock and he only lasted a few, staccato thrusts until his vision went white.

Wednesday, February 13th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7 AM HKT

You purposely did not look into Sicheng’s office window as you strode briskly down the hall with a coffee in your hand.

A few days ago felt like a watershed moment, but after you two had caught your breaths, the sheer amount of emotions in the room—frustration, satiation, anger, hunger—weighed upon your lips and forced them shut. He had quickly dressed himself, not saying a word, but he casted a glance in your direction that was undecipherable and left.

You, at the moment, did not know how to feel. Hurt? Angry? Sad? But you settled upon your usual solution: ignoring that anything had happened and resuming the normal.

Alas, the fates were unkind. They neatly disposed of your plans to avoid the man when the two of you were scheduled to meet with other sales heads in the afternoon. Unfortunately, when the time came to be, you and Sicheng were the first ones there.

He studiously avoided looking at you, busying himself by opening up his laptop and flipping to a new page on his legal pad. You ignored him as well, scrolling through the latest news on your webpage. However, as the seconds ticked by, you could not resist resting your eyes upon him. It felt like a damn magnet was pulling your gaze to him.

He looked good today, from the brief glances you stole at him. Freshly shaven, his hair was styled neatly and he was in a dark green, cashmere sweater. Was this your fate? To be shamefully attracted to a man that equally repelled you?

“Interesting.”

The both of you shot a look at the door, where an unrecognizable, lanky man with a proud, straight nose was peering down upon you and swinging a plastic bag in his hand.

“Chengcheng? What the hell are you doing here?”

Completely ignoring Sicheng, he settled his lidded gaze upon you before his eyes lit up in recognition.

“So you’re the one that has shaken him, then.”

Dead silence permeated the room. He looked at the two shocked faces, both ashen. “What? Are you going to tell me I’m wrong? Please. I’d have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to ignore the way you two gravitate to each other.”

Your two quick glances that were meant to be unnoticed clashed, resulting in your eyes meeting. You both turned your eyes away.

Chengcheng snorted, as if that moment confirmed everything for him, and he chucked a bag at Sicheng.

“You forgot your lunch, remember?”

Sicheng’s jaw tightened. “Thank you.”

Once again, awkward silence reigned and ChengCheng’s eyes switched back and forth between you like a particularly exciting tennis match.

“You two need to talk. You’ll both age prematurely at this rate, with the angst you two are producing. Talk.”

He left with a wave, striding down the hall casually and stealing many of your female coworkers’ gazes.

“... He’s right, you know.”

Sicheng’s eyes flicked up to yours and he focused his full attention on you. Intensely, he contemplated you, tongue poking at the sides of his mouth.

“I agree. We can meet—” he cut himself off, looking around surreptitiously. “—at Black’s.”

You sucked your lip in between your teeth. “Fine. Neutral ground.”

He took a good, long look at you, like a man seeing water after seeing nothing but sand.

“Tonight. At 8.”

Thursday, February 13th, 2020

Black’s

7:50 PM HKT

Strangely enough, you felt comfortable despite the jittery nerves under your skin as you walked into Black’s.

The receptionist had given you a knowing look as you repeated the guest password, letting you in without question. You strapped on the standard, white lace mask and steeled yourself, opening the mahogany doors.

The club was abnormally busy; the guests and members crowded the couches and loitered on the floor. The quiet string music that could usually be heard was masked by the loud chattering of the people in the room.

“Is that you, Dove?”

You spun around to see the smiling, wizened face of Mr. Liu.

A grin broke out on your face and you took his hands. “Mister Liu! It is wonderful to see you.”

“I am happy to see you as well.” He chuckled with his eyes gleaming fondly at you. “Have you decided to visit this old man?”

Playfully, you lightly smacked his shoulder.

Mr. Liu was an important figure to you. All those months ago, when you arrived at Black’s to be screened, as a potential member and straight out of a relationship with Minghao—broken, shattered, hollow—he took one look at you and said no.

Why? You remembered asking tearfully. Am I not pretty enough? Rich enough?

He searched your pale, wan face, as if seeing the emotional scars Minghao had lashed into you, before sighing.

You shouldn’t be asking me that. Are you enough for yourself?

Confused, you had asked him to elaborate. He sympathetically replied that he could see you were entering the club for the wrong reasons. You were different, he’d said. You looked so innocent that he could not morally allow you into the club, despite the depraved patrons that gained membership. He knew, at the time, entering the club would cripple you.

So, what now? You asked, confused. He said he would keep your file open until you came back ‘at the right time.’

The ‘right time?’

You will know it when it comes.

And somehow, you did. After a few months of picking the pieces of yourself together and stabilizing your life, you had grown into a physically and emotionally healthy person. The “right moment” came and you sat in his quaint little office again, opposite of a smiling Mr. Liu as he stamped his approval.

After chatting a few moments, the volume in the room increased slightly and you frowned.

“Why is it so busy today?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you know what today is?”

“No?”

“Today is the evening before Valentine’s day, dear girl.”

“... Oh.”

New information in hand, you looked at the scene more closely. You could see that some couples in the crowd seemed to curl into each other, the affectionate brushes and knowing glances giving you a sick, sick feeling.

And that’s when you saw Sicheng.

Even masked, he drew attention from the members—attached and non-attached. His lean, fit form struck a figure and you couldn’t turn away from him.

He looked directly into your eyes and only a few seconds passed by as you two observed each other.

“Sicheng somehow found out, hm? Clever, devious boy.” Mr. Liu observed the dynamic much like ChengCheng earlier. His gaze was enraptured how the two of you clashed yet sunk into each other, the way two tidal waves—in a rare moment of offbeat rhythm—struck each other and subsequently merged. Push, pull, push, pull.

“Listen to him and he will listen to you. You two match more than you think,” he advised, bowed, and sunk off into the backrooms.

“Sicheng.”

“Y/N.”

Frustratingly, his face was unreadable. Nevertheless, he offered you his arm (a surprising show of manners) and he led you to a place you had never seen before.

This place was much less pristine than the rest of the club. The wallpaper was older, much more faded, and the wood looked much more worn.

This was one of Mr. Liu’s apartments.

The pair of you entered a comfortable sitting room with the lights low, to which only large candles had been lit.

He made sure you were properly ensconced into an armchair before he turned his back towards you and made his way to the drink carts.

“Would you like something to drink?” Sicheng asked, voice measured.

“A gin tonic would be wonderful.”

After carefully making your drink and pouring himself a healthy 4 fingers of bourbon, he handed your glass to you and sat down in the chair opposite of you.

Silence permeated awkwardly and you turned your eyes towards the tapestry in the middle of the room, giving yourself something to do.

“Were those feelings true?” he asked, not looking at you.

“Elaborate, please.”

“The last night…” He looked quickly at you, before turning his eyes away and clenching his jaw. “The last night we were together.”

“Ah.”

Absolutely, unequivocally. Dolos was everything you had searched for in Minghao and, while your relationship was unusual, you could not deny the string between you two.

Something burned at your eyes and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Yes. Then and now,” you stated, opening yourself up for an attack.

His eyes widened and the twitching in his fingers stopped.

“And you, Sicheng?” you enquired boldly.

“Always,” he stated without hesitation. “It was never something as trivial as pillow talk.”

Seeing as he was on the brink of closing off, due to his rare moment of vulnerableness, you wrapped your hand around his.

His eyes shot to yours, then to your linked hands, before tightening his grip.

“I don’t know where to start,” you confessed. “I… One thing that has always been on my mind—why did you dislike me so much?”

He smiled bitterly. “Sometimes, I forget that you don’t see the way I see you. You are a smart, dauntless woman, who’s pushed all my buttons. It all just built and built upon each other until I found you—Dove—here.” He pauses. “I projected my frustrations onto Dove—you—here. But never, for a moment, doubt my feelings aren’t genuine.”

You pursed your lips. “Forgive me, but I cannot accept your accusations of me being the office slut—very rude, by the way—were without malice. You constantly pushed me down, clashed with me in the workplace and you were just plain classist.”

Sicheng’s eyes were casted down, but his grip was steady. “I will not lie. Those words I spat at you were with malice. But now, in retrospect, they were nothing more but words of immature frustration that I channeled towards you. I know that I cannot take them back and they will forever linger in the air between us, but I can apologize and recognize those words were completely unacceptable.”

He angled his body fully towards you and clasped your hand in both of his. “I am sorry for my actions. My anger was misplaced and the sentiments do not represent me anymore. I am sorry and I hope you can forgive me.”

“And then what? What do you want now, Sicheng?” An edge of desperation tinged your voice.

He smiled bitterly at you. “Everyday, the smell of you lingers and I, like Pavlov’s dog, cannot help but feel an ache in the marrow of my bones when I see your crimson red lips. Every night, when I go to bed, you are seared across the back of my eyelids and I cannot escape you, even in my dreams.” He paused. “I want you, or whatever scraps you’re willing to toss me.”

A sharp exhale left you nose and you blinked rapidly. “I don’t want to get hurt. You get off on hurting people.”

“With your consent.”

“Say I want a completely vanilla relationship,” you challenged. He didn’t flinch. “What about then?”

Sicheng clenched his jaw and held your gaze fiercely. “Anything.”

“I hate that you are all I’ve wanted in a man,” you admitted unwillingly. He hummed. “Will we be each other’s destruction? Or will we be each other’s maker?” you pondered nonsensically.

“Aren’t we already both?” he retorted.

Slowly, without releasing his hand, you rose from your chair and lowered yourself into his lap. His eyes traced your every movement. For a few, brief moments, you looked into each other’s eyes without the obsurance of a mask or the encumbrance of a workplace rivalry. Your left hand cupped his cheekbone and stroked the skin underneath his eye.

“This will be interesting,” you said.

He gave no sign of reaction, but tilted his head into your palm and closed his eyes. “After us, the flood,” he recited.

Monday, March 2nd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7:50 PM HKT

A secret grin tugged at your lips as you looked across the table at Sicheng, who was intensely focused on the presentation your coworker was giving. Perhaps he’d felt the weight of your gaze on him as he chanced a glance at you and gave you a small smirk.

The past month in your relationship with Sicheng was equally fulfilling and frustrating. There were times where both of you deliberately looked for a fight or misinterpreted each other, but there were also times you could shed your layers and just be yourselves with the other.

Even each fight, where you or Sicheng stormed out, or broke things, you came back to each other at the end. Pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling relentlessly. The flood, indeed.

You focused back in on the meeting and contributed to the smatter of clapter for the end of your coworker’s presentation. As he turned off the projector and people stood up to leave, Xiao Daiyu—the interim head of the Sales department—stopped you and Sicheng.

“Y/N, Sicheng, please stay back for a moment. I’d like to talk to you about Mr. Lee’s replacement.”

You and Sicheng glanced at each other and you sat back down. A while ago, you had both agreed the decision wasn’t going to break the quiet relationship you had built. It was going to be sour. You knew, when someone was chosen, things could get messy and awkward. But this… this was too good.

Daiyu sat down and put her hands together. “After much decision and going through your interviews, the CEO has stepped in and we are sorry to say neither of you are getting the position.”

You jerked your head around to Sicheng and he did the same—wild confusion and anger in both of your eyes. Both your years of loyalty and dedication are being passed over?

“Instead, we have decided to hire outside the company for some fresh intake. He may be young, but it comes to us that he’s highly recommended and would fit in with our culture well.”

A sour feeling came to your stomach and you narrowed your eyes, resisting the urge to frown. They had decided to hire outside the company? This is how they decide to reward their workers? This was betrayal.

Glancing over, you could see Sicheng felt the same. His right hand grasped the arm of the chair tightly and you could see his knuckles turning white.

“I’d like to meet him and he’s coming—” She took a glance at her watch. “—right about now.”

A knock came from the door and a head of messy black hair peaked into the room.

“Daiyu laoban, great to see you.”

No. This could not be happening to you.

The wire glasses. The tall, lanky frame that filled the doorway. The almond shaped eyes hiding behind pitch-black hair, as black his shriveled little heart.

Daiyu, like the little bitch she was, giggled. “Y/N, Sicheng, please meet your new Sales Head: Xu Minghao.”

His eyes focused on you and your world suddenly felt tilted, careening sideways while the nausea hit you all at once.

“Nice to meet you,” he said cheerfully.

You could feel Sicheng’s concern radiating from him at your ashen face and look of shock, but you couldn't even think as flashes of blood and tears and pain shuddered throughout your body.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m pleased to be working with you!”

(”After us, the flood” or “Aprés nous, le deluge” is an expression from Madame Pompadour, King Louis XV’s lover.)

And it’s finished. Thank you. Please don’t forget to read, comment, and reblog. I love you all and goodbye.

484 notes · View notes

all-my-love-for-harry · 4 years

Text

Dirty computer.

summary: in order to clean the world, humans need to be cleaned too.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: angst, fluff, use of needles.

a/n: this concept is heavily inspired by Janelle Monae's Dirty Cumputer. Which means, I do not take credit of the idea at all, i just thought it would be an interesting context to write my first AU. Hope you like it, please let me know what you think!

italics mean flashbacks.

you can find the rest of my masterlist here

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

They start calling human beings computers, and people started vanishing and with that, the cleaning began. If you were different, you were dirty. If you refused to live the way they dictated, you were dirty. And if you were dirty… it was just only a matter of time until they find you.

No one knew how they did it, one day you’d only disappear without leaving any trace that you were once there.

Y/N felt the cold metal she was laying on before she saw it, her eyes feeling too sensitive to flutter open, despite her tries. She felt how the table started moving, placing her in a vertical position, and that’s when she finally opened her eyes.

A person dressed in a white bodysuit and a gas mask covers their face was in front of her, looking at her in the eye while they placed some sort of helmet on her head. She was too scared and disorientated to protest, so she limited herself to observe how the same person backed off after putting the helmet on her.

She wanted to ask where was she, who and why they took her, but before any sort of noise could leave her mouth, a voice was heard in the room.

“You will repeat after me. Your name is Y/N 57821.” The voice sounded… emotionless. Almost robotic.

“My name is… Y/N 57821.” She repeated, confusion adorning her features.

“I am a dirty computer.” Y/N furrowed. A what?

Despite her confusion and growing desperation, she repeated. “I am a dirty computer.”

“I am ready to be cleaned.”

“I…I” She hesitated.

“I am ready to be cleaned.” The voice said again, forcing her to repeat the words. However, Y/N stayed quiet. “Unfortunately, my dear. Cleaners please initiate the nevermind.” She commanded.

Y/N wasn’t able to see it, but behind the glass on the wall there were two people watching from a monitor, waiting for the order to begin with the cleaning. One of them pushed a button and suddenly there was gas coming out of holes in the wall. Her pulse raised as she tried to move, but failed. Y/N could feel how the gas was entering her nostrils and she began panicking.

The men behind the glass scrolled through what looked like a compilation of memories that only existed in her head, lurking through her memory data until they clicked one.

83 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 293297]

PLAY MEMORY?

YES. NO.

The music coming out from the speakers was loud, and the destination of their ride wasn’t clear yet. What was clear was the tight grip Harry had on Y/N’s hand, occasionally bringing it up to his lips to place little kisses on her knuckles.

She’d giggle every time, allowing herself to close her eyes and enjoy the moment she was living with her lover. Driving down the coast, the breeze of the ocean made her hair fly everywhere and at Harry’s eyes, there’s nothing more beautiful than the woman next to him.

“Have you ever wanted to get… lost?” she asked, turning to look at him.

Harry turned his head towards her for a second before looking back at the road. “Have you?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” She admitted. “But I wouldn’t disappear without telling you.”

“We can always disappear together.”

A big smile formed on her face as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders the best she could considering the angle. Y/N attacked Harry’s face with dozens of little kisses, making him chuckle and try to kiss her back every time her lips would land on his.

“Just me and you, baby.”

“Mmm, I like how that sounds.” He grinned. “Me and you.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Letting go of the steering wheel for a second, Harry cupped his lover’s face and stamped his lips on hers in a passionate kiss.

At plain sight they were just two young souls waiting to spend eternity together, it was them against the world. Forever.

DELETE MEMORY?

YES. NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

One single tear rolled down her eye before once again falling unconscious on the cold, metal table. Alone.

Y/N didn’t notice when they carried her outside of the room, getting her into a new one. Two guards stood by the door, protecting it from whoever that wanted to come in, or out.

The door opened and revealed a tall man dressed in a similar white bodysuit she was wearing. He stopped his tracks when he was in front of her, and extended his arm to touch her hand gently.

“Good morning, Y/N.” he tried to wake her up from her slumber but received no response. “Y/N.” he tried again, this time making her open her eyes slowly.

It took her a moment to adjust to the lighting in the room before she turned her head to the voice that was responsible for waking her from her sleep. The man smiled warmly to her, trying to appear as friendly as possible. “My name is Haribo53. I’m here to escort you from the darkness into the light.” He spoke again, pulling from her hand to lift her into a sitting position.

“Harry.” She whispered in disbelief, tears forming in her eyes.

“You won’t be able to move your legs for a while.” He said, turning her towards him. A small frown appears on his face the longer he stared at her, but he tried to shake it off.

“I didn’t… I thought I’d never see you again.” She said, trying to reach for his hand but he turned around, ignoring her words. Harry grabbed what looked like a tablet from the wall, starting to type away. “Did they hurt you?” Her voice was trembling and barely above a whisper, afraid of the answer.

“Is it okay if I call you Y/N?” he asked, once again ignoring her questions.

“What?”

“Is what we have in your file, right?” he explained softly, grabbing a small flashlight. He started exanimating her, and her eyes closed when he pointed the light to her face. Nonetheless, she nodded. “If there’s anything else you’d rather be called, you just let me know.” No matter how much he tried to soften his voice, it still sounded robotic, as if what he was saying was something he was told to repeat rather than something he wanted to say. “I’m here to make your experience sweet as honey.”

“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me, Harry?” her voice broke, feeling hurt.

“As I said, my name is Haribo53 and I don’t know you… at least not yet. But what I do know, is that we are here to get you clean.” Although he was smiling at her, said smile never reached his eyes.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to not cry. She didn’t understand a single thing that was happening right now, and seeing Harry again for the first time in a long time has made her feel so many emotions at once that she wasn’t sure her body would be able to handle it. She wasn’t sure if she could handle having him in front of him and wanting to kiss him when he doesn’t even remember her name.

Harry took her to the room she was in at first, asking her to lay down in the same metal table she was before. And this time she did it on her own because Harry told her to. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself down while he put the helmet back on her head. He stepped aside and the same robotic voice sounded loud in the room.

“You will repeat after me.”

“I will repeat after you.”

“Your name is Y/N 57821.” Y/N repeated the words. “I am a dirty computer.” Sighing, she repeated. “I am ready to be cleaned.”

Y/N closed her eyes, afraid of what was going to happen once she repeated those last words. The whole thing felt and seemed surreal and the anxiety started to grow in her. “I am ready to be cleaned.”

“Ready for cleaning.”

“She’s ready for cleaning.” The same two men remained on their seats behind the glass, ready to keep scrolling through Y/N’s collection of memories.

“Which memory exactly?”

“Any memory you see.”

272 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 310620]

PLAY MEMORY?

YES. NO.

Y/N wasn’t sure how her friend convinced her to pierce her nipples, but here they were, entering the shop in the middle of the night after leaving the bar they spent hours drinking at.

“Didn’t read the sign? We’re closed, sweetness.” Both girls turned towards the source of the voice. A black-haired man with numerous tattoos on his arms stood behind them.

“Do you pierce nipples?” Zoey, Y/N’s friend asked, trying to maintain balance by grabbing Y/N’s shoulder.

“Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you.” he smirked.

“I’ll take care of them, Mitch.” A new voice was heard and a brunette man walked in, turning on the lights. Even in her drunken state, Y/N was sure she’s never seen someone as attractive as him. His curls sat on top of his head, green eyes suddenly looking directly at her. A smirk formed on his face as he noticed her stare. “I’m Harry. Didn’t catch your name, beautiful.”

“Because I haven’t told you.” She smirked back at him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Alright, Y/N. You said you and your friend wanted to get your… nipples?” She nodded. “Your nipples pierced.”

“That’s right. Can you do it?” Y/N asked, feeling more confident with the alcohol running through her system. She bit her lip, waiting patiently for Harry to answer.

“Christ, just do it, H. I’ll handle the friend.”

Harry breathed a laugh as he saw his friend and coworker take Zoey to a different room, hearing how the girl tried to make conversation but resulted in just drunken thoughts and nonsense. “I think you and your friend are a little too drunk to decide to pierce ya nipples, love.”

Y/N could swear her panties were soaked just by hearing the thick British accent he had. The way he called her love sent shivers down her spine, but she shrugged it off, trying to look sure of her decision. “Wouldn’t be the first time you see someone doing something stupid while being drunk.”

They looked at each other for a second, holding eye contact. “You got me there. I still need you to sign some papers, though.”

She try to not stumble too much while walking towards him, signing whatever he told her to, feeling too eager to get this done. Harry led her to a private room, where he told her to take her shirt off and lay down.

He tried to not look as Y/N undressed herself, remaining himself she was intoxicated and wasn’t on her five senses.

Y/N didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that she looked at Harry’s face the entire time, but it actually didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. Sure, the second one hurt like a bitch because she was already expecting it, but looking at him concentrated, slightly poking his tongue out of his mouth, made it all more bearable.

“Would I see you again?” He dared to ask after she paid for her new additions.

“It depends. Will I have a shirt on?” she raised an eyebrow, clearly teasing him.

“Only if I can take it off.”

DELETE MEMORY?

YES. NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

42 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 310620]

PLAY MEMORY?

YES. NO.

Today was the day, Y/N and Harry were leaving to start a new life and leave behind the town that has always been too small for their big dreams. Away from the old, boring life and away from her parents who tried to do everything to separate them.

Y/N woke up as soon as the sun came out, too excited to stay in bed, she made her bags and dropped them by the door. She wasn’t sure where they’d be going, but she didn’t care as long as it was with Harry.

She waited in her living room, bouncing her leg up and down due to her nerves. Her parents weren’t supposed to come back until night, but she was still alert in case they decided to change their plans. A part of her felt bad for leaving without saying goodbye, but it was for the best. Y/N didn’t want to be here anymore.

Watching through the window, she saw how Harry’s car parked right in front of her house and she ran towards the door and threw herself at him as soon as she opened the door. “Someone’s excited.” Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. “Ready, love?”

“Sooo ready. Let’s leave already.”

They hurried to get her bags in the trunk of the convertible, and Y/N looked back at her house for a moment before returning her gaze to Harry. She took a deep breath before getting into the passenger seat of the car. As he pulled away from the driveway, Harry placed one of his hands on her thigh.

“We just have to stop by the shop and say goodbye to Mitch, babe.” He said.

“Is he going to be okay by himself?”

“Yeah, he’s been wanting to do his own thing for a while now.”

The drive from her house to the tattoo shop wasn’t a long one, and soon they found themselves crossing the door of the building they spent hours and hours in. Mitch was sitting behind the desk on the front, looking through a magazine. He looked up when he heard the bell ring and a big grin appeared on his face when he saw his friends.

“And who do we have here? The lovebirds!”

“Hi, Mitch.” Y/N smiled at him.

“We’re here to say goodbye, mate.” Harry said.

Although Mitch was sad they were leaving, he also couldn’t be happier for his friends. He knew they’d stay in contact, and he could always go visit them wherever they went. The trio hugged, Y/N being in the middle of them. She has grown pretty close to the long-haired man ever since she started dating Harry, which was great considering how closed off Mitch could be.

“I hate to admit it but I’m going to miss you two.”

“You need to visit us soon.”

“I will, please stay out of trouble." Mitch chuckled.

All of a sudden, the windows shattered into a million pieces, making a thunderous noise. They dropped to the floor, trying to shield themselves from the glass.

"What the hell is happening?!" Y/N exclaimed out of desperation. Her hair had pieces of crystal and there was a small cut on Mitch's left cheek. "Is someone coming?"

"I think so. Dammit." Harry cursed under his breath. "Mitch, take Y/N to the back of the store."

"No!" She interjected rapidly. "Harry, don't."

"Fuck, just do it, baby." Breathing through his nose, Harry got up from the floor. "I'll see you there, I promise."

Mitch pulled from Y/N, having to almost carry her to the back of the store to hide from whoever was coming. Tears rolled down her eyes as they hide behind some boxes, trying to keep it quiet but fearing for Harry. Mitch held Y/N in his arms to keep her from running.

It sounded like there was a fight out there, things were thrown making all kinds of noises.

"Let go of me!" Harry yelled when two different men grabbed him from the arms, immobilizing him. They started to carry him out of the shop, and Y/N started to try to free herself from Mitch's hold. "Where the fuck are you taking me?"

"Y/N, stop." He tried. "For fuck's sake, stop it."

"Harry's in trouble! Mitch, we have to help."

"You're going to get yourself hurt if you go out."

"I can't leave him."

With a sudden move, she freed herself from Mitch and ran to the front of the shop again. She was met with all kinds of broken objects and no sight of Harry.

"He's gone. They took him."

DELETE MEMORY?

YES. NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

They called this place "The House of the New Dawn". This place where they drained us of our dirt and all the things that made us special, and just when you thought you could remember something, just when you thought you could see the past clearly... They would hit you with nevermind.

This gas would take over and then you were lost... sleeping. And you didn't remember anything at all.

Y/N had lost track of how many days had passed since her arrival, the only thing she'd remember was the trip from her room to the chamber where they'd put her to sleep to erase her memories and everything that made her... her.

They would erase everything they came across with. From the happiest memories she treasured the most to the ones she once would have given anything to forget.

She'd no longer protest, she'd no longer put on a fight. She'd see how Harry treated her like a stranger, his touch suddenly feeling colder and unfamiliar as time went by. Y/N would try to force her brain to remember, to remember she was a person, that what they were doing to her was not cleaning her. But every day it became harder, and harder... and she gave up.

63 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 972942]

PLAY MEMORY?

YES. NO.

"Where were you last night?" Y/N's father, Jonathan, grabbed her by her arm, stopping her from going upstairs without talking to him first.

"I told you I'd be out."

"Were you with that man again? Don't lie to me, Y/N." He said sternly.

"His name is Harry, and yes." Y/N didn't see any point at lying, they lived in a small town and sooner or later her father would know the truth.

"I have told you, I do not trust him."

"Well, I do." She crossed her arms across her chest, challenging him.

"You can't trust someone who goes out looking like that."

"Like what? A normal person?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Just because he has tattoos it means he's a criminal, you know?"

"People like him will only bring trouble to your life. Do you think he loves you? He'll only use you, and I will now allow that."

"This would be shocking to you, but he does love me. And guess what?! I do too!" She got out of his hold.

"You will not see him again, I forbid it!"

"You can't do that!"

"For as long as you live under my roof, you'll live under my orders. And believe me when I say you will not see him again."

"I guess I'll fucking leave then!"

She ran upstairs and towards her bedroom, hearing how her father called her full name repeatedly, growing angrier each time. Y/N couldn't understand why he hated Harry so much, why he was so against the idea of her being happy with him. In her sight, there was anything wrong with him. Harry was sweet, caring, attentive. He was everything anyone would want as a partner, and she didn't care if her dad didn't like him. She loved Harry, and she planned on staying with him for the rest of her life.

DELETE MEMORY?

YES. NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

173 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 862037]

PLAY MEMORY?

YES. NO.

"Can I color your tattoos?"

"All of them?" He chucked.

"Please?" She gave him her best puppy eyes.

"Be my guest, babe."

Harry laid back on the bed and put his hands under his head, adoring the view he had. Y/N was straddling his waist, trying to get a better angle of his butterfly tattoo. She'd ofter place little kisses on his belly, sending shivers down his spine. He smiled when Y/N poked her tongue out of her mouth, an habit she's learned from him.

"You're so pretty." Harry let out after a while of being in complete silence.

"So are you." She looked up and smiled at him. He thought his heart would explode from all the love and adoration he was feeling right now. Wearing nothing but his shirt, her messy hair everywhere, not a single drop of makeup on her face. She looked like an absolute angel.

"Have you considered having one?" He asked. "A tattoo, I mean."

"Sometimes, but I'm kinda afraid of needles." Her words made Harry giggle.

"Babe, you got your nipples pierced. Kinda hard to believe you're afraid of them." He teased her.

"Don't be mean, I was drunk. I don't think I would have the balls to do it sober."

"What if I do it?" He suggested. "It could be something small, in a place your folks wouldn't see."

"I don't know..."

"Then you can make one for me."

"Are you kidding?" She put her hands on his chest, forgetting the markers she was using to color his tattoos. He shocks his head, smiling widely at her. "I've never done that before."

"I'll teach you. I'll be fun, babe."

"What if I hurt you?"

"You won't, I trust you."

And that's how they ended up sitting in Harry's office, deciding their future tattoos together. Y/N decided to get Harry's name on her wrist in braille language, she could always wear some bracelets to hide it. She sat on Harry's left thigh, wanting to be as close as possible to him. She watched the process, feeling curious about the way the ink permanently entered her body. And it excited the thought of Harry's name being plastered on her body.

"What do you think? Do you like it?" He asked as he wiped her wrist carefully. She observed the tattoo with a dreamy smile on her face, it was simple but beautiful. The dots wouldn't mean anything to any other person, but it was okay as long as she knew what it meant.

"I love it, H. Thank you."

"You're welcome, love. Now, it's your turn." He offered his equipment, kissing her cheek in reassurance. "I'll guide you, it's fine."

Harry has chosen Y/N's name as well, but not in braille. He wanted it on his chest, right where his heart was. She had to turn on straddle his hips, trying to get comfortable. "I will like I'll stab you."

"Don't be a baby, just do it."

Slowly but surely, Y/N got his tattoo done. She had to stop her hand from shaking a little, but Harry didn't care if it was a little messy. It was her handwriting after all, and it was made by her. He'd never hate anything made by her.

"I love you." He whispered, hopelessly in love.

DELETE MEMORY?

YES. NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

Y/N was taken back to her room, where she spent what it felt like hours staring at the wall in front of her. She felt drained as if she didn't have any energy left.

She heard the door open behind her and soon enough Harry was in front of her, getting the bracelets they had put on her wrists off. He gently lifted the sleeve of her bodysuit, furrowing when he saw the dots on her wrist. Harry looked up at her in confusion, but Y/N kept her head down.

"They're taking everything away from me." She mumbled. "I don't even remember how we met anymore." Her voice broke. "I'm not sure if any of this actually happened."

Harry let go of her wrist and sat down next to her, taking a deep breath.

"Listen, thinking will only make it harder. It's best if you just... enjoy the process." he looked at her again. "Accept it. People used to work so hard to be free. But we're lucky here. All we have to do is forget."

"But I don't want to forget you." Her voice was barely above a whisper, a tear rolling down her eye.

They looked at each other's eyes before Harry finally spoke. "You don't have a choice."

He got up and exited the room, once again leaving her alone with her thoughts. Or what was left of them.

A woman dressed in a white long-sleeved dress was walking down the hallway, and Harry was quick to stop her way when he saw her.

"Mother Victoria? May I speak with you for a minute?"

"I hope this is important." She responded.

"It's about Y/N 57821."

"Go on." She said, continuing her way but with Harry following her this time.

"It's as if she remembers me. Really knows me. She tells me things about myself." A very small smile formed on his face. "About where I'm from. She says my name was Harry. And I made tattoos, played the guitar. And uh... she says that we were in love." He breathed a laugh.

"That's enough." She cut him off. "You know that's impossible. A dirty mind will do anything to survive. Right now she's dirty, tomorrow after the walk she'll be clean." She smiled. "And if she's lucky in a few days she'll be a torch just like you." She paused. "And we'll have all this nonsense behind us."

She kept walking, leaving him alone in the hallway. "Yes, mother."

Day by day, they kept erasing Y/N's memories. It all stopped to make sense in her head, the little pieces she held onto were falling apart. The holes in her mind were too big, too deep.

Harry would seat next to her on the bed, caressing the tattoo in her wrist, as if he was trying to make it make sense to him. As if he was trying to remember. His breathing started to raise, a permanent frown on his face.

"You remember..." She muttered.

He offered her the tiniest smile, shaking his head. "I'm sorry." His eyes were filled with tears, and so were hers. "It's too late."

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles fluffy imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #tattoo artist!harry

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thisislizheather · 3 years

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February Feats 2022

Above Photo: The partially frozen fountain at Bryant Park, February 2022

My favourite month has arrived! Spring is coming and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

You can find my favourite tweets of the month over here and here.

I compiled my favourite tweets about love for Valentine’s Day.

I read and review Elvira’s new memoir.

I know that it’s older, but I’ve kept the song Gypsy by Lady Gaga on repeat for about two weeks now.

I made garlic confit and I’ll be real with you - it looks way better than it tastes. And that’s coming from someone who adores garlic. By cooking it down, it actually makes the garlic flavour quite mild so it’s truly not worth making again. I put a boatload of it on some toast and it was beyond lackluster. One more con? Expect to be gassy as hell if you eat this stuff.

I tried a sample of this Tata Harper (christ that name) cleanser and it was really good. Thankfully there are cheaper, better options out there (literally anything in the tea tree line at The Body Shop), but this was great to try.

I was getting pretty sick of the Spotify commercials in my (free) account, so I made to the movie to Apple Music to try their three month trial. We shall see how it goes. (That goddam Stone Cold Steve Austin & Ice-T commercial may have been the final straw to leave Spotify.)

I went to Sarabeth’s for their Restaurant Week lunch menu and it was extremely good. I love blue cheese and pear together in a salad, why can’t that be as common as caesar salads? And the mussels and fries were heavenly.

I have been in such a funk with nail polish lately, every colour seems to look disgusting. I got a short, red, gel manicure recently and had to remove it within a week, it was so repulsive to look at. What is my problem? …What’s that? You don’t care? Hahah. Honestly, same.

I finally tried SLT (it’s one of the options when you try ClassPass for a free month trial), and what even is SLT? It’s like if spin classes + pilates classes had an obnoxious baby. And you know what? NOT FOR ME. I think I hate any pilates class that uses a machine.

In love with the larger citrus green tea candles that just came out from Trader Joe’s. Fucking love a wooden wick.

Above Photo: Citrus Green Tea candle from Trader Joe’s, February 2022

Two new things I made for the first time this month? Risotto and scallops. It’s well known how annoying risotto is to make yourself since it’s such a long process, but I didn’t fully grasp that concept until I did it firsthand. And it wasn’t even that amazing, so that was a letdown. As for the scallops? Very fast and extremely easy.

Had dinner at the extremely cute French place La Petit Joie in Brooklyn with Diana. Love any place that does oysters rockefeller every night of the week. Also, can more restaurants bring back BYOB? It’s so thoughtful to even offer.

I tried out this Ulta eyeshadow palette and it came off with hand soap. The quality of makeup these days is just wild. And the prices keep going up, WHAT IS THIS NONSENSE?

Went to The Independent in midtown and their mussels and harvest salad were truly memorable. Great place to go if you’re in the area seeing a show.

Tried the new french toast soft serve at Milk Bar and yes it was good, but not as good as their apple pie soft serve.

I have found my new favourite hair mask: AG Hair Colour Savour Mask. I’m not sure if it’s for all blondes or just dyed blondes, but I love it. You’d think the bubblegum scent would repel me, but I find it whimsical. Of course it’s made by a Canadian company.

There was a beautiful, pre-spring day so I took Baby Dog to Central Park and just look at this mug.

Above Photo: Baby Dog in Central Park, February 2022

I bought some gorgeous new address labels from Zazzle. Are you doing this? You really should. Don’t you want to be better than everyone else?

So I went to Suprema Provisions finally and look the burger was good, but not nearly as good as the burger at Sparrow Tavern in Astoria (or even The Spaniard). Their mushroom pasta was saucy and great. And I never thought I’d say this, but I think it’s time to retire burrata from all restaurant menus. It is always the same. Always uninspired. We need to move on with ours lives, I think.

Okay, so I bought some eucalyptus to hang from my shower head (pardon me for being DEEPLY ORIGINAL) and unlike every Pinterest pin that encourages you to do this, I fully recommend NOT EVEN BOTHERING. It’s pointless. There is no smell. There is no point. And I think it might attract moths (!), but that last point is unconfirmed. Instead, if you’re really obsessed with this idea, just buy a can of this eucalyptus shower mist. You spray it into the hot water and it does actually make it seem like a steam room for the length of your shower.

Went to Van Dam diner in Queens with Irene and it’s like you fell into 1983, loved it.

Truly sorry for telling you about this, but if I had to hear about it so do you: lip blushing. One more reason that this world hates women. If I had any real money, I’d buy up as much ad space as I could and just have signs that tell women, “Hey you! You’re good! You don’t need to buy anything to be better! Relax!”

And speaking of buying things to make you feel better, I just bought these strappy black heels and they feel so lovely & I can’t wait to destroy anyone in my path the first time I wear them.

I also bought these Steven Madden heels online and does that man hate women? Or just their feet? The most uncomfortable shoes I’ve ever owned. Returning as soon as possible.

I was in Harlem so I went to Oso for their happy hour (good guacamole, I want to go back mainly to try the cake place next door) and then to Lido for their happy hour, which was fantastic. I love when a happy hour menu gives a fuck. Definitely want to go back to Lido for a meal.

What I watched this month:

Tried rewatching The Mindy Project and while the first few seasons are pretty good (Morgan is the best character by far), I just couldn’t get into the entire series again for some reason. I think I stopped around the episode where she talks about how she doesn’t like men seeing her naked ever. Some things are just better as a memory, I guess.

I’m rewatching old Sex and the City episodes to get the AJLT taste out of my mouth and they’re all pretty hit or miss. Samantha is so much funnier than I remember, which was been great. Also, you know when Carrie is with Aiden and he has his dog Pete with him - did you ever notice that this dog is NEVER excited to see Carrie when she enters a scene? I get that it’s not real life and he’s just a dog on a set, but it made me laugh so much that this dog just does not fucking care about her. Pete was right all along. Also, for all the credit that this show gets for the outfits, good god are there a lot of terrible wardrobe decisions. But I guess that’s part of the good thing about it maybe? Like not everything has to be your taste or even look good - it’s more important to be fun and confident and have these characters wear what they think looks good? What side am I even on?? Do I hate the show or not?? Look, even I don’t know.

The John Mulaney SNL: Why did I watch this one specifically? Who knows. I don’t think I even like him, but it was a really good episode. Makes zero sense, but I was dying at the monkey sketch.

The Worst Person In The World: I liked it! Not as much as I thought I would given how highly praised it is, but it was nice to be in a theatre. (And that chocolate peanut butter pie slice at The Angelika? Oof. Always worth it.)

Above Photo: Chocolate peanut butter pie at The Angelika, NYC

I made this sesame garlic chili oil noodle dish that suhuuuuuucked. I think I need a moment away from Half Baked Harvest. So many misses lately.

Recipes I want to make this month:

Tuscan Kale Salad with Gorgonzola Croutons - I always forget how much I love blue cheese.

Truffled Garlic Bread with Ricotta - okay, this looks maddeningly incredible. I could either make this myself OR I could visit any North Italia restaurant where they have it on the menu… which is just a two hour drive from me to the Pennsylvania location… mental note…

Hummingbird Cake Scones with Mascarpone Glaze!! Christ!!

Prosciutto, Peas & Orzo - my love affair with orzo has not ended.

Banana Sheet Cake with Walnut Streusel and Rum Glaze - can sheet cake come back in style already? Fuck.

Grilled Asparagus Caesar Salad - love new ways to ingest caesar dressing.

Lemon Almond Pudding Cake - pudding CAKE? This must be the future.

Some things I’m looking forward to this month: I won a lottery ticket to see Harry Potter on Broadway this coming week, obviously I want to find and drink the space Coke, I really want to try the happy hour at Bistro Les Amis (the poutine looks Canadian), the second season of Stanley Tucci’s Searching For Italy starts on March 13th, my best friend Harmeet is coming for a visit (!), I found a place in NYC serving Steak Diane (!!!) so that’ll likely be my birthday meal, I got a ticket for opening night of the Broadway play Birthday Candles with Debra Messing on the 18th, and I will most certainly go get my free birthday gifts from The Body Shop, Sephora, and Ulta. (And I mean… should I drive two hours purely for some amazing garlic bread? I’m thinking I should? That sort of tracks with who I am as a person? Also it’s my birthday soon? And the world is slowly but surely burning? And garlic bread might solve everything? And by “might” I mean “definitely will”?)

If you have any interest in reading what went on in January, come on over here.

#Simpsons meme #this is liz heather #Liz Heather #monthly post #monthly roundup #February 2022 #best of February #what happened this month #what I did this month #NYC #best of NYC #must do NYC #must visit NYC #NYC blog

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watusichris · 3 years

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Rock Gunfight in the Antipodes

Listening today to the hot new Grown Up Wrong! comp by Sydney’s Lipstick Killers, whose lone officially released single was produced by Deniz Tek of Radio Birdman, it occurred to me that my old Music Aficionado faux faceoff between Australia’s pioneering bands of the ‘70s (all of which I dearly love) has disappeared into the online ether. It’s time to bring it back.

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By Chris Morris

The mid- to late ‘70s were fertile days for rock ‘n’ roll in Australia. Here and there across the vast but not terribly populous island continent, fires were started by several attitude-filled bands bent on doing things their own damn way. They all managed to make their way off the island, but if they hit the American consciousness, it was for little more than a nanosecond during their heyday.

Who were the truest Rock Wizards of Oz? For this Down Under face-off, I’ve selected three contenders: the Saints, Radio Birdman, and the Scientists. All of them had fairly slim discographies; ironically, the act probably least known in the U.S., the Scientists, recorded most prolifically, with their core line-up producing several magnificent albums and singles during a productive four-year stretch in the early ‘80s. But none of these bands ever stayed together long enough to make a deep impression among the Yanks.

So where’s the Birthday Party, you ask? There are a few things to consider. First of all, though the band and its precursor unit the Boys Next Door were in business from 1976 on, they didn’t release their first LP until 1980. Also, Nick Cave is well known enough that more (king) ink needn’t be spilled on him. Finally, I still resent the fact that Cave stole PJ Harvey away from me, so it’s personal.

On with the showdown…

HIT ME LIKE A DEATH RAY, BABY

The Saints, founded 1974 in Brisbane

The prime movers of the Saints were a pair of literal outsiders: vocalist Chris Bailey, born in Kenya to Irish parents, and guitarist Ed Kuepper, raised in Germany. Thus the otherness of their work is no surprise.

With schoolmate Ivor Hay – who over time would play drums, bass, and piano with them – the pair founded a combo originally known as Kid Galahad and the Eternals (borrowing their handle from a 1962 Elvis Presley picture), but they swiftly renamed themselves the Saints and began playing in their hometown on the northeast coast of Australia.

Listening to their records, which were made in something of a cultural vacuum, it’s difficult to get a handle on where the Saints’ distinctive, aggressive sound came from. To be sure they were aware of such homegrown precursors from the ‘60s as the Master’s Apprentices and the Missing Links (whose 1965 single they covered on their debut album). It’s safe to assume they were conversant with the Velvet Underground, the Stooges, and Lenny Kaye’s 1972 garage rock compilation Nuggets. Yet they bred something utterly their own in the ocean air of Brisbane.

With Hay on drums and Kym Bradshaw on bass, Bailey and Kuepper mounted noisy local gigs that swiftly attracted the antipathy of the local constabulary; they wound up turning their own digs into a club to play shows. In 1976, they recorded and issued a self-financed single featuring two originals, “(I’m) Stranded” and “No Time.” These dire, ferocious songs were distinguished by venomous lyrics, unprecedented velocity, and guitar playing by Kuepper that sounded like a (literal) iron curtain being attacked with a chainsaw.

The record died locally, but a copy of its U.K. issue found its way into the hands of a critic at the English music weekly Sounds, which declared it the single of the week. This accolade got the attention of EMI Records, which signed the band and financed the recording of an album, also titled I’m Stranded, in a fast two-day Brisbane session.

The album, which was ultimately released in the U.S. by Sire Records, blew the ears off anyone who heard it, and it landed with a bang in England, where punk rock was lifting off in all its fury in early 1977. It was hurtling, powerful stuff that stood apart from punk in several crucial ways: While some of the songs were clipped and demonic in the standard manner, the Saints proved they could take their time on expansive numbers like the almost Dylanesque “Messin’ With the Kid” and the sprawling, hellriding “Nights in Venice.” And one has to wonder how British p-rockers took to their perverted take on Elvis’ squishy “Kissin’ Cousins.”

Made by musicians who never considered themselves “punks,” and who in fact abhorred the label, (I’m) Stranded is nevertheless one of the definitive statements in the genre, and it has maintained its force to this day.

Settling in England for the duration, the Saints decided to throw a curveball. One could not find a more profoundly alienated album than Eternally Yours (1978), a series of yowling protests, twisted prophecies, and savage put-downs, including the snarling second version of the single “This Perfect Day.” But, though the record was loud and for the most part swift, the group applied the brakes to their sound somewhat, and a couple of songs, including the caustic album opener “Know Your Product,” were dressed by a soul-styled horn section. Punk loyalists ran for cover.

By the time Prehistoric Sounds was issued in late ’78, the dejected Bailey and Kuepper were moving in different directions, and you can hear it in the grooves. The record is slow, almost listless at times, and its logy originals are complemented by incongruous Otis Redding and Aretha Franklin covers with none of the energy of earlier Saints soul-blasts. It is an album primarily for loyalists, and by then there were few in that number.

Kuepper exited the band on the heels of the third album’s release and returned to Australia, where he enjoyed a long career as leader of the Laughing Clowns; Bailey continued to perform under the Saints mantle with a shifting lineup that at last count numbered more than 30 players over the course of 37 years

Bailey and Kuepper reunited for one-off gigs in 2001 (at the ARIA awards ceremony) and 2007 (at Australia’s Queensland Music Festival).

THERE’S GONNA BE A NEW RACE

Radio Birdman, founded 1974 in Sydney

People who toss the “punk” handle around often throw Radio Birdman into the mix, but the sextet from Australia’s Southeast Coast may be best referred as the world’s youngest proto-punk band.

Its mastermind was guitarist, songwriter, and producer Deniz Tek, a native of Ann Arbor, Michigan, who emigrated to Sydney in 1971 to study medicine. As a teen, he got a chance to witness Detroit’s most explosive pre-punk bands – the MC5, the Stooges, and the Rationals; he would later wind up collaborating with important members of all those groups.

After apprenticing with and getting bounced from a Sydney band called TV Jones, Tek formed Radio Birdman (its name a corruption of a lyric from the Stooges’ “1970”) with singer Rob Younger; the lineup ultimately solidified with the addition of guitarist (and sometime keyboardist) Chris Masuak, bassist Warwick Gilbert, drummer Ron Keeley, and (on and off and then on again) keyboardist Pip Hoyle.

Rapidly acquiring a fan base made up of some of Sydney’s lowest elements, including members of the local Hell’s Angels, Radio Birdman ultimately took over a bar, re-dubbed (in honor of the Stooges, of course) the Oxford Funhouse, as their base of operations. The band’s severe Tek-designed band logo emanated fascist-style vibes for some; at a co-billed appearance in Sydney, the Saints’ Chris Bailey remarked from the stage, “We’d like to thank the local members of Hitler Youth for their stage props.”

Despite much antipathy and some attendant violence, the band maintained a loyal local following, and in 1976 it issued a strong four-song EP, Burn My Eye, via local studio-cum-independent label Trafalgar. This was succeeded the following year by a full-length debut album, Radios Appear.

Anyone looking for something resembling punk will likely be disappointed by that collection. The band wears its all-American hard rock/proto-punk influences on its dirty sleeve. Radios Appear is dedicated to the Stooges (whose “No Fun” was the lead-off track on the Aussie issue of the LP), and a song co-written by Tek and Stooges guitarist Ron Asheton, “Hit Them Again,” was cut during sessions for the record. Tek pays deep homage to MC5 guitarist Wayne Kramer with his playing, and blatantly cops a signature lick from the 5’s “Looking at You” at one juncture. The album title was lifted from a Blue Öyster Cult lyric, and the Tek-Masuak guitar-bashing bows to their multi-axe sound. Finally, in both Younger’s sometimes Morrisonian vocalizing and Hoyle’s Ray Manzarek-like ornamentation, homage to the Doors in paid in full. Given that Sydney is a beach town, there’s even a frisson of surf music in the mix.

Bursting with power-packed originals like the apocalyptic “Descent into the Maestrom,” youth-in-revolt anthem “New Race,” the cryptic, insinuating “Man with the Golden Helmet,” and Tek’s autobiographical “Murder City Nights,” Radios Appear was a power-packed set that established Radio Birdman as Oz’s leading rock light.

However, renown did not equal success in Antipodean terms. In 1978, the band cut its second album, Living Eyes, at Rockfield Studio in Wales; it was a solid effort that included remakes of three Burn My Eye numbers (including the wonderful Tek memoir “I-94,” about the Michigan interstate) and excellent new originals like “Hanging On,” “Crying Sun,” and “Alone in the End Zone.” But, with success seemingly within their grasp, Sire Records – their American label, and the Saints’ as well – switched distribution and cut their roster, leaving their new work without a home. Within months of this catastrophe, Radio Birdman disbanded.

The principals scattered, to Younger’s New Christs and Tek and Hoyle’s the Visitors; Tek, Younger, and Warwick Gilbert later joined MC5 drummer Dennis Thompson and the Stooges’ Ron Asheton in the one-off New Race. Tek also later recorded with Wayne Kramer and Scott Morgan of Ann Arbor’s Rationals in Dodge Main.

Radio Birdman’s original lineup reunited for a 1996 tour; in August 2006 – after four of the original sextet regrouped to record a potent new album, Zeno Beach – the band played its first American date ever, at Los Angeles’ Wiltern Theater. Your correspondent was there, and it was freakin’ incredible.

IN MY HEART THERE’S A PLACE CALLED SWAMPLAND

The Scientists, founded 1978 in Perth

Among the important Aussie bands of the ‘70s, the Scientists were among the first to be directly influenced by the punk explosion in New York.

As guitarist-singer-songwriter Kim Salmon – the lone constant in the Scientists’ lineup during their existence – wrote in 1975, “Reading about a far-off place called CBGB in NYC and its leather-clad denizens, all with names like Johnny Thunders, Richard Hell, and Joey Ramone, got me thinking…I immediately went searching for Punk Rock. What I found were The Modern Lovers and The New York Dolls albums.”

Salmon first dabbled in the new sound with a band bearing the delightfully punk name the Cheap Nasties. Cobbled together in Perth – the Western provincial capital of Australia – from members of such local acts as the Exterminators, the Victims, and Salmon’s the Invaders -- the early Scientists were as derivative as one might imagine. Their early songs, heard on their self-titled LP (the so-called “Pink Album”) and an early single and EP, sport original songs authored by Salmon and drummer-lyricist James Baker, the backbone of shifting Scientific crews through 1980. The tunes range from straight-up Dolls/Heartbreakers rips (“Frantic Romantic,” “Pissed On Another Planet,” “High Noon”) to buzzing romantic pop-punk in a Buzzcocks vein (“That Girl,” “She Said She Loves Me”).

Not terribly promising stuff, but, after the departure of Baker for the Hoodoo Gurus in 1981 and a brief stint in a trio called Louie Louie, Salmon assembled a new Scientists who would prevail for nearly four years. That outfit – Salmon, guitarist Tony Thewlis, bassist Boris Sujdovic, and drummer Brett Rixton – promptly relocated to Sydney and started making the noise they are noted for.

By that time, Salmon had begun cocking an ear to the Birthday Party (and no doubt paid careful attention to the sordid noise on the Melbourne group’s 1982 album Junkyard), had discovered the miasmic voodoo of the Cramps, and started grooving to the dissonant, slide guitar-dominated racket of Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band. In short order, he would also absorb the bluesy downhome assault of Los Angeles’ roots-punk outfit the Gun Club.

The Sydney-based Scientists hooked up with indie label Au Go Go, which issued a devastating run of careening, mossy records by the band in 1982-83 – the vertiginous singles “This is My Happy Hour”/“Swampland” and the corrosive “We Had Love” (backed by a faithful cover of Beefheart’s “Clear Spot”), and the heart-stopping mini-album Blood Red River, which bore the churning “Set It On Fire,” “Revhead,” and “Burnout.” Others were essaying a similar style, but the Aussie youngsters were beating their elders at their own game.

Eying the big time, the band moved to London in 1984. Some opportunities presented themselves initially: The band got European tour slots with the Gun Club and early Goth act Sisters of Mercy. But their deal with Au Go Go fell apart acrimoniously; while they made a pair of fog-bound albums, You Get What You Deserve (1985) and The Human Jukebox (1987) for Karbon Records (and a set of re-recorded songs, Weird Love, was issued in the U.S. by Big Time Records), they scraped by in Britain.

Defections from the ranks commenced in ’85, and by early 1987 the depleted Salmon used money from a housing settlement to move back to Australia, where he founded a new band, the Surrealists.

Still valued among the cognoscenti, Salmon, Thewlis, Sujdovic, and latter-day drummer Leanne Chock appeared, at the invitation of Seattle’s Mudhoney, at London’s All Tomorrow’s Parties Festival in 2006. Earlier this year, Chicago-based archival label the Numero Group issued a comprehensive four-disc box of the band’s original recordings.

So, at the end of the day, who is the all-time champeen of ‘70s Oz rock?

Scoring on points, the Saints are tops for Being Punk First with additional wins in the Pure Noise and Weltzschmerz categories, Radio Birdman takes the Technical Ability and Old-School Attitude slots, and the Scientists prevail in the Loud Young Snot and Grunge Thug division.

And the championship belt goes to…the Saints!

Of course, that could all change tomorrow, but that’s rock ‘n’ roll for ya.

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kjack89 · 4 years

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Zoom

For the 2020 Same-Prompt Fic Challenge as set up by @shitpostingfromthebarricade, which had to use the quote, “I didn’t know you could do that”.

This is a different take on a COVID-19 self-isolation fic, mainly because I started my Quarantine AU before my state, at least, actually had a stay at home order in effect. That’ll come up at some point in that fic, but in the meantime, I thought it would be fun to come at it from a slightly different approach.

E/R, modern AU, Zoom call-related shenanigans and hijinks because why not?

Enjolras took a deep breath before clicking the link to the launch the first official virtual Les Amis meeting. The Stay at Home order had gone into effect almost two weeks, but with the chaos, Enjolras had made the decision to delay meetings. Between the Stay at Home order and navigating the schedules of those members who were essential workers, it had taken this long to find a time where they could all actually be on the Zoom call together, and even though he knew it was just going to be some of his closest friends, he still felt inexplicably nervous.

His nerves disappeared almost instantly when the first person he saw was Grantaire, hunched in the dark, a beer bottle just in view at his side. “Are you the first one on?” Enjolras asked, and Grantaire shrugged.

“It wasn’t like I was doing anything else,” he said, a little sourly, “especially considering—”

He was cut off by the tell-tale chime of someone else joining the meeting, and Combeferre appeared on screen. “Good evening,” Combeferre said, and Enjolras grinned at him.

“I know you and I just talked but it’s really nice to see you.”

Grantaire mimed throwing up. “Get a room, you two,” he said.

Combeferre flipped him off as several more people joined the meeting at once. For a few minutes, there was the usual wild cacophony of nearly a dozen people having at least a half dozen conversations at once, and Enjolras waited patiently for the general din to die down so that he could get started.

As per always, whether virtually or in person, Grantaire, Joly and Bossuet were the last ones to stop talking, and everyone else had mostly stopped when Joly asked, curiosity clear in his voice, “Grantaire, where the hell in your apartment are you?”

Grantaire glanced around himself. “Oh, uh, I’m in the closet – physically, obviously not metaphorically.”

He winked, and after a few scattered laughs from the group at large, Bossuet asked the question most seemed to be thinking. “Why are you in the closet?”

“Because my walls are paper thin and I didn’t want my mic picking up every time a train goes past?” Grantaire said, as if it was obvious.

Joly arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, but you’ve got your headphones on, so would it even pick it up?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and sighed. “Ok, fine, truthfully, I’m hungover as fuck and the dark in the closet helps. Happy?”

“Hang on,” Feuilly said, jumping in, “It’s five in the evening and you’re hungover still?”

“What the fuck is this, twenty questions?” Grantaire snapped, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Besides, what the fuck else is there to do in isolation besides get drunk all the time?”

Enjolras cleared his throat. “As ever-fascinating as the subject of Grantaire’s drinking is,” he said, a hint of disapproval in his voice, “how about we actually get back on subject?” His arched eyebrow was enough to silent the rest of the conversation, and he allowed himself a brief moment of triumph before continuing, “Alright, I’m just going to go ahead and mute everyone— There. Ok. So obviously the biggest thing we have to worry about is further degradation of workers’ rights in light of this pandemic. We know the right-wing talking points, we know that they’re going to pivot pretty quickly toward being ok with sacrificing poor folks, and black and brown folks, and we need to figure out a way to safely demonstrate that we will do everything in our power to stop that from happening. We’re about three weeks out from International Workers Day, so I think that means—”

He broke off as his phone chimed. “Oh, hang on a second, I’m so sorry, I forgot to put it on silent—”

Again he broke off, this time because of the text from Combeferre: You appear to have muted yourself when you muted everyone else.

He looked in horror at his screen, at the 20-odd messaged in the Zoom chat, and at the telltale microphone icon with a line through it. He closed his eyes and counted to five before clicking to unmute himself. “Was no one going to tell me sooner?” he asked with a sigh.

“In fairness, we did,” Courfeyrac said after unmuting himself, grinning. “Not our fault you didn’t bother to check the chat.”

“Besides, we’re all social distancing,” Bossuet added. “What did you want us to do, hop in a car and drive to your place to let you know you were on mute?”

Enjolras gritted his teeth. “Preferably, yes,” he said, glaring at the screen. “Though it isn’t actually necessary, considering—”

“Why don’t we just cut to the chase and go over whatever damned document you shared us on before this whole thing began?” Grantaire interrupted. “Because I’m almost out of beer and at this point, this meeting could’ve been an email.”

There was what certainly sounded like a murmur of agreement, and Enjolras bristled. “Fine,” he snapped. “Everyone, open the document and let me know when you’ve got it opened.”

“And how would you like us to let you know, dear leader?” Grantaire asked, his voice saccharine sweet. “Should we all raise our hands when we’ve got it? Blink twice if we aren’t able to get into it? Perhaps bring into song and—”

“Or you could just tell us if you aren’t able to access it,” Courfeyrac interrupted, saving Enjolras from the rant he had been a second away from launching into.

“Besides which, he can tell if you’ve clicked away from the Zoom meeting by using Zoom’s attention-tracking feature,” Combeferre added, a note of warning in his voice.

Enjolras blinked. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he said, sounding surprised. “That seems like a huge invasion of privacy! Should we be switching to another platform? I don’t want—”

“The feature was permanently removed at the beginning of April,” Jehan interrupted, sounding bored. “The easiest way is probably just to see if we’re all in the Google Doc.”

“Right,” Enjolras said, and while it was hard to tell with the lighting in his shot, it certainly looked like he blushed, just a little. “That’s what I was planning on doing.”

Joly let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a hastily-stifled laugh. “In that case, it looks like we’re all in the doc.”

Enjolras heaved a sigh. “Very well,” he said. “Then let’s get started.”

The next twenty or so minutes of the meeting went without a hitch, and Enjolras felt himself finally relaxing, feeling much more like he would at any regular Les Amis meeting.

When they had finished with the document Enjolras sent before the meeting, he pivoted the conversation. “So obviously the federal government has been focused on mortgage relief, which is great for the owner class, but doesn’t do a hell of a lot for the renter class. I had Combeferre compile some statistics and proposed solutions, and I’m just going to share my screen with everyone to show those, give me a second—”

“Great time for me to get a refill,” Grantaire said, draining his beer bottle. “Someone chat me if I miss any other great technology SNAFUs.”

With that, the thumbnail of his image went black, just displaying a capital R, and Enjolras rolled his eyes before turning back to the statistics Combeferre had sent him. “Ok, they should be shared now, so Combeferre, go ahead and walk everyone through them, and I’ll just scroll through as you go.”

“Absolutely,” Combeferre said, adjusting his glasses, his tone already sounding professorial. “So let’s start with this chart demonstrating renters vs owners in all the city wards.”

He took over from there in earnest and Enjolras muted himself before sitting back in his chair and breathing a sigh of something close to relief. As little trouble as he had talking in front of any variety of large groups of people, he didn’t do so well in virtual meetings, and it was nice to let someone else do the talking for the moment.

A hand touched Enjolras’s shoulder and he practically jumped up, whirling around before instantly relaxing again when he saw who it was. “Jesus Christ,” he huffed. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry,” Grantaire said, sounding anything but. “I told you I needed another beer.”

“I know, but I didn’t think you’d stop in here on your way back to the closet.” Enjolras couldn’t quite stop the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Sorry to make you go in the closet, by the way – it was the only part of my apartment I could think of that, well, didn’t look like my apartment.”

Grantaire shrugged. “It’s honestly not bad,” he said, “though being out here is infinitely better.”

Enjolras nodded sympathetically. “Better lighting,” he offered, and Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“Better company,” he corrected, leaning down to press a kiss to Enjolras’s forehead.

Enjolras laughed, somewhat breathily, and tilted his head up to capture Grantaire’s lips with his own. “It’s not like you don’t get to see me on the screen,” he pointed out, and Grantaire gave him a look.

“That’s not the same and you know it,” he huffed.

“There’s only another half hour left,” Enjolras told him. “And then after that, I’m all yours.”

“No,” Grantaire corrected. “After that, you’ve got at least three other meetings you’re supposed to be sitting in on, so forgive my lack of enthusiasm, but—”

He let out an ‘oof’ as Enjolras pulled him down onto his lap. “Yes, but for those meetings, I don’t have to be on screen and I also don’t care all that much about those, which means that you and I can spend the entire time—” He tilted Grantaire’s chin up with two fingers, his grin matching Grantaire’s. “—doing this.”

He kissed Grantaire, deeper this time, his mouth opening against his when Grantaire ran his fingers through Enjolras’s hair and—

“Um, Enjolras?”

Enjolras pulled back from Grantaire, who groaned and leaned forward to rest his head against Enjolras’s shoulder, and reached out quickly to unmute himself. “Yeah, Combeferre, what’s up?”

There was a moment of silence before Combeferre cleared his throat delicately and asked, “You do know that when you present your screen, we can still see you, right?”

Enjolras and Grantaire froze. “Wait, what?” Enjolras asked weakly, as Grantaire repeated, “You can see— Oh, shit.”

Without warning, Grantaire practically rolled off of Enjolras’s lap, assumedly dropping out of frame as he fell heavily to the floor. Of course, judging by the cat calls and hysterical laughter that greeted them, it was far too little, far too late.

Surprisingly, Joly was one of the first to stop laughing, mostly so that he could ask, mock-stern, “Enjolras, what is Grantaire doing at your place in violation of the Stay at Home order?”

“It’s not technically in violation of the Stay at Home order,” Enjolras muttered, his face beet red.

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bahorel asked.

Grantaire reappeared on screen as he slowly struggled to his feet. “It means, uh, it means we’ve been keeping something from you,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “And when the stay at home order was announced, Enjolras thought it would make more sense for me to stay with him than to stay at my place.”

“How—” Courfeyrac started, his voice cracking. “How could you possibly keep this from us?! During a mandated isolation order?! I could have been living for this instead of rewatching Love is Blind a million times on Netflix!”

Enjolras sighed. “We didn’t want to tell anyone until we knew for a fact it was going to work.”

“And?” Jehan prompted. “Is it?”

Enjolras and Grantaire exchanged glances, a smile returning to both of their faces. “Well, we haven’t killed each other yet,” Grantaire said bracingly. “So I guess it just might be.”

“Ok, but you have to tell us—” Bossuet started, but Enjolras cut him off.

“We aren’t really going to spend the rest of the time talking about this, are we?” he asked exasperatedly.

“Why, you got someplace better to be?” Courfeyrac asked, clearly still smarting over having not been told earlier.

Enjolras considered it for just a moment. “Actually, yes,” he said. “We’ll reconvene next week.”

With that, he clicked the Leave Meeting button, turning to look up at Grantaire. “What do you say, want to go do something better?”

Grantaire grinned. “Absolutely,” he said, fumbling for his phone in his pocket, where the Zoom call was still active. “Let me just—”

Before he could leave the meeting on his phone, they could both hear Courfeyrac squawk, “Hang on, did he just hang up on us?” at the same time Bahorel demanded, “Wait, how is Marius now the host?”

Grantaire laughed as he left the meeting, sliding his phone back in his pocket before pulling Enjolras out of his chair. “Now,” he murmured, leaning in, “where were we?”

Enjolras kissed him hungrily, both of them stumbling towards Enjolras’s bedroom and quickly stripping out of their clothes and falling onto Enjolras’s bed. After a long moment, Enjolras pulled away to glare at Grantaire’s pile of clothing, from which his phone kept chirping obnoxiously. ”Who is blowing up your phone right now?”

“It’s Venmo,” Grantaire said with a laugh. “Just our friends, paying me what I’m due. Now get back here.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes but went back to kissing him before pulling away again. “Hang on, does that mean that you bet on us?”

“You bet your ass I did,” Grantaire said, grinning. “Easiest hundred bucks I’ve ever made, and when the Stay at Home order is lifted, I am using that money to take you out—”

“To a locally-owned, locally-sourced, vegetarian restaurant?” Enjolras asked, only half-teasing.

“To wherever you want to go,” Grantaire told him. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

For once, Enjolras was only too happy to oblige.

#same prompt fic challenge #exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjolras #grantaire #enjoltaire #les amis #fanfiction #modern au #les miserables #covid-19 #zoom call #hijinks and shenanigans

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mauryepstein · 3 years

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How Reliable Are the Gospels?

Judaism

Jesus was a historical figure. Modern historians and students agree. That informs us something, but not a great deal. Did the Gospel writers take the real man, Jesus of Nazareth, and embellish him with your things as a virgin birth, miracles, sinless life, voluntary martyr's death, resurrection, and ascension into heaven?

Folk music

Most tell you today that is precisely what happened. Doesn't that seem to be the most reasonable explanation? Those "added features" seem unnatural; they appear unnatural. They actually aren't the rock-hard reality we encounter everyday.

So what will we use those grandiose claims of Jesus? He said he is the Son of God! Could a guy having a sound mind state that about himself? So we keep encountering miracles, including raising the dead; and he himself was reported as resurrected from the grave. Not to mention there is also the virgin birth. Doesn't the inclusion of supernatural elements make the entire story questionable?

You know how it's when stories are passed around. Just a little enhancement here, a little trying out the details there, and before long you've got a story full-scale of proportion to that of the original. By the time Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John were placed on paper, tall tales were well established parts of the story.

However, we currently realize the Late-date-for-the-Gospel theory was flawed from the beginning. The case for this was not according to evidence. It had been mere speculation, speculation to permit sufficient time for that legend surrounding Christ to build up. The reality involved tell us a different story. What evidence we are able to muster has a tendency to confirm early dates for Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

Papias and Irenaeus Discredit Late Gospel Theory

In A.D. 130, Papias, the bishop of Hierapolis in Phrygia, quoted The Elder (the apostle John) as stating that Mark accurately recorded Peter's statements regarding Jesus' actions and words. Since Mark hadn't personally witnessed the events, however, they weren't designed in chronological order. However, Mark was scrupulously faithful to Peter's teachings. Nothing added, nothing omitted.

As you can tell, Papias strongly endorses the book of Mark. The succession may be wrong, but, he assures us, these are the very words of Peter.

Irenaeus was the bishop of Lugdunum (what's now Lyons) inside a.D. 177. He would be a student of Polycarp, the bishop of Smyrna who was burned at the stake inside a.D. 156. Polycarp consequently would be a disciple from the apostle John.

Irenaeus informs us that, "Matthew published his Gospel one of the Hebrews in their own individual dialect, while Peter and Paul were preaching the gospel in Rome and laying the foundations from the church. After their deaths (Paul approximately A.D. 62 and 68 and Peter in regards to a.D. 64), Mark, the disciple and interpreter of Peter, passed down to us in writing what had been preached by Peter. Luke, follower of Paul, set down inside a book the Gospel preached by his teacher. Then John, the disciple from the Lord himself, produced his Gospel while he was living at Ephesus in Asia."

Papias agreed saying, "Matthew recorded the 'oracles' within the Hebrew tongue." All the early church leaders say the same thing, namely, Matthew was the first written Gospel. Just when was it written? Irenaeus indicates it was probably produced in the early A.D. 60s. Mark's Gospel followed Matthew, Luke wrote third, and John composed his narrative a while later.

Spot the real significance of Irenaeus' comments. None of the Gospels ever experienced a number of oral hand-me-downs. He assures us the apostle Matthew wrote his own account of what he had seen and heard. Likewise, the apostle John produced a manuscript of what he himself had witnessed. The apostle Peter preached. Mark wrote down his words, and wrote them down accurately too, based on Papias. By the same token, Luke recorded what he heard from Paul.

Irenaeus was just the second generation from the apostle John. Over time as well as in acquaintances, he was not far from the facts. He said the only real oral tradition in Mark is what Peter told Mark; the only oral tradition in Luke is exactly what Paul told Luke. In Matthew and John, the oral tradition wasn't a factor at all.

Oral Tradition

What about the oral tradition anyway? The very first century was a dental society. Yes, they had writing, but it was primarily a spoken word tradition rather than a paper based society like our very own. We do not depend on our memories as much as they did in the first century. We write it down and refer to it later, or we look it to the pc. It's easier that way.

But before age the printing press, books or scrolls were too expensive for the average man to possess. Whatever one needed or wanted to know, he'd to hold around in the head. That required a good memory.

Gospel Authorship and Dating

Gospel of Matthew

The Gospels themselves contain a number of clues giving us a tough concept of when they were written. Matthew is a great one. The first church fathers were unanimous in attributing this work to Matthew, the tax collector who left his job to follow Jesus. His occupation required him to help keep records, therefore it doesn't surprise us he had the ability to write.

We find his Gospel were built with a distinctive Jewish style and character. Based on both Papias and Irenaeus, the very first edition was designed in the "Hebrew tongue." It's a Jewish book compiled by a Jew for a Jewish audience.

The author starts by tracing Jesus' ancestry to Abraham, the patriarch. Throughout his narrative, Matthew is constantly mentioning how Jesus is fulfilling this or that Messianic prophecy. His goal is to convince Jews, Jesus may be the Messiah and the Son of God according to documents they consider beyond reproach.

Matthew feels no need to explain Jewish customs, that is reasonable if he is addressing Jewish readers. Also he uses such Jewish euphemisms as "Kingdom of Heaven" and "Father in Heaven." Jews were reluctant to even mention the name of God. Consequently, these terms were common substitutes in their vocabulary. And what may well be more Jewish rather than talk about Jesus as the "Son of David?"

The exclusive Jewish character of Matthew suggests the book was composed soon after Jesus' crucifixion, a period when the Christian movement was almost entirely Jewish.

In the 1996 book Eyewitnesses to Jesus: Amazing New Manuscript Evidence Concerning the Origin from the Gospels, Carsten Peter Thiede, A German papyrologist, analyzes three small scraps of Matthew chapter 26 from Magdalen College at Oxford University.

He found several ancient documents which were comparable both in style and technique: the Qumran leather scroll of Leviticus, dated to the middle of the first century; an Aristophanes papyrus copy of Equites (The Knights), dated late first century B.C. to early first century A.D.; and extremely enough, an Egyptian document actually signed and dated by three civil servants July 24, 66.

Based on these close comparisons, Thiede concludes the three tiny fragments of Matthew chapter 26, known collectively because the Magdalen papyrus, date no later than A.D. 70. As we have already noted, both Irenaeus and Papias claim the original Matthew manuscript was at Hebrew. Obviously, the Hebrew original should have predated this papyrus Greek translation.

Gospel of Luke

Probably the least controversial author from the Gospel writers is Luke. Most agree the physician and often traveling companion of Paul, wrote the Gospel that bears his name, that is, the Gospel of Luke.

That book is really a companion volume to the book of Acts. The word what and structure of these two manuscripts indicate they were compiled by the same person. Plus they were addressed towards the same individual -- Theophilus. Luke's authorship is supported by early Christian writings such as the Muratorian Canon A.D 170 and also the works of Irenaeus inside a.D. 180.

Luke seems to be a well-educated gentile. His writings show he is fluent in Greek. At times his style even approaches that of classic Greek. Both of his books are rich in historical and geographical detail. As others have seen, this physician writes like an historian.

Luke tells us that the number of individuals had already discussed Jesus' life. However, he would prefer to set the record straight and proper the errors he present in those early reports. To split up fact from fiction, Luke conducts an individual investigation interviewing eyewitnesses and verifying oral accounts with the apostles. In his own words, he investigated from the start to write an orderly report for Theophilus so that he or she is certain of the items he had been taught. (Luke 1:3-4)

Indirect evidence suggests Luke wrote Acts in early A.D. 60's. Acts is a good reputation for early Christianity which was centered in Jerusalem. Nevertheless, there is no mention of Jerusalem's destruction which took place A.D. 70.

Likewise, nothing is mentioned of Nero's persecution of Christians inside a.D. 64, nor will it talk about the martyrdom from the three major characters in the book: James, brother of Jesus, A.D. 62; Peter A.D. 64; and Paul some time from a.D. 62 and 68.

However, Acts does inform us of the deaths of two less prominent figures: Stephen, the very first known martyr, in A.D. 36, and the apostle James, son of Zebedee and brother of John, inside a.D. 44. Based on this indirect evidence, there is need to believe Acts was composed inside a.D. 62 or earlier. Acts is an obvious continuation from the Gospel Luke. So if Acts were written by Luke no after A.D. 62, the Gospel of Luke was most likely recorded before that time, presumably in the late 50's.

Carsten Thiede talks about a codex papyrus of Luke's Gospel found at the Bibliotheque in Paris. After evaluating the original document, the papyrologist decided it had been from the first century A.D., only slightly older than the Magdalen Papyrus.

Later Embellishment Theory

Before we leave Luke, there is another item which needs to be mentioned. Skeptics, you'll recall, believe that all of those miraculous events were just fictitious inventions tacked to the original writings centuries later. Luke discredits their "later embellishment" theory.

In Acts 2:22, he quotes Peter's sermon to the Jews at Pentecost: "Men of Israel, hear me. Jesus of Nazareth was designated by God making recognized to you by miracles, wonders, and signs which God did among you thru him." Peter followed that track of: ". . . you, with the aid of wicked men put him to death by nailing him towards the cross. But God raised him in the dead . . . . God has raised this Jesus to life, and we're all witnesses from the fact . . . . God makes this Jesus, whom you crucified, both Lord and Christ." (Acts 2:23-24, 32, and 36)

Peter said essentially: You yourselves saw Jesus perform miracles. That wasn't just a man you crucified. That was your Lord and Christ. In addition, that Man didn't stay dead. God brought him back to life. We know that for certain. We have seen him with this own eyes; heard him with our own ears; why, we even ran our fingers over his crucifixion wounds. He's alive. And he's back!

The interesting point here is how the crowd reacts. If modern skeptics were right, that's, those incredible supernatural events never really happened, we would expect the crowd to state something to the effect: Who are you kidding? That man never performed any miracles! And he's dead. We saw him die. Forget him, Peter. Get a life of your personal.

However they didn't say that. Instead: "They were cut to the heart and said: 'Brothers, what should we do?'" (Acts 2:37) They had seen Jesus' "miracles, wonders, and signs" and Peter used that knowledge to convert those Jews to Christianity.

Another thing. Observe that Peter doesn't shy away from Jesus' resurrection. Actually, it is the focus of his speech. Remarkable is it not? Three thousand of these hearing Peter's words accepted the apostle's eye witnessed account. We read, "Those who accepted (Peter's) message were baptized and about 3,000 were put into their number that day." (Acts 2:41)

Peter, John, and Paul all made use of firsthand evidence in their writings. Peter said: We didn't constitute stories whenever we told you concerning the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty. (2 Peter 1:16)

John reads: We let you know what we should have seen and heard so you may have fellowship around. And our fellowship is by using the Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. (1 John 1:3) John is referring to himself when he known the witness of Christ's death: "We know this is true, because it was told by someone who saw it happen. Now you can have faith too." (John 19:35 CEV)

Also Paul, in speaking to Festus and King Agrippa, tells them that Christ did exactly what Moses and also the prophets said he would do, that is, he suffered, died, and it was raised in the dead. Festus immediately questioned Paul's sanity. But Paul responds: "What I'm saying is reasonable and true. The king knows these things and that i can speak freely to him. I am convinced none of this has escaped his notice, because it was not done in a large part." (Acts 26:25-26)

Again, notice the reaction. The interesting thing here is what King Agrippa did not say. He didn't say: That's the craziest thing That i have ever heard of Paul. It has been my experience that dead people have a tendency to stay dead!

That is what we should would expect Agrippa to state, unless, unless he knew something out of the ordinary had place. Paul made three startling claims here: First, Jesus was the long awaited Messiah and also the fulfillment of prophecy. Second, Jesus was resurrected from the grave. And maybe more and more extraordinary, Paul himself claims to have experienced and heard the resurrected Jesus on the road to Damascus.

Amazingly enough, King Agrippa doesn't laugh at, ridicule, or get angry at Paul's "outrageous" claims. Apparently, Agrippa didn't find the remarks outrageous. He merely replies, "Do you think that in such a short time you can persuade me to be a Christian?" (Acts 26:28)

Gospel of Mark

The Gospel of Mark was most likely composed inside a.D. 50's or even the early 60's. According to early church tradition, Mark was written in Rome where Peter spent the final days of his life. Romans crucified Peter upside down inside a.D. 64.

Mark seems to have been written for a gentile audience, possibly a Roman audience. Unlike Matthew, he explains Jewish customs and translates Aramaic words for his readers. Also Mark shows a special curiosity about persecution and martyrdom - subjects of crucial importance to Roman believers of his day.

Mark's work was readily accepted, also it spread rapidly throughout Christianity. Some believe the reason it was distributed so quickly is because it originated in Rome.

A papyrus scroll fragment of Mark 6:52-53 called 7Q5 was excavated from Qumran Cave 7. "It should be dated before A.D. 68 and could easily be as soon as A.D. 50," claims Carsten Thiede.

Although the early church said Matthew was the first Gospel, many today think Mark wrote his account first. They base their judgment around the proven fact that Mark's book is shorter and far of the items he explained are available in the Gospel of Matthew.

Scholars are inclined to express it was more likely that Matthew would expand on Mark's text rather that Mark would condense and leave out parts of what Matthew wrote. Besides, all what Mark wrote supposably came from Peter.

The assumption is that one copied in the other, but independent origins are a distinct possibility. The issue remains, why would an original apostle of Christ need to rely on other people to tell him what Jesus said and did?

Both writers probably used exactly the same oral tradition for memorized accounts of Christ's sayings and actions. It is certainly inside the realm of possibility these odds and ends of knowledge had already found their way into writing before Matthew and Mark composed their Gospels. The Gospel writers arranged and shaped those commonly known stories and sayings of Jesus into the more comprehensive narratives which bear their names.

Whichever Gospel was first, there is general consensus that both Matthew and Mark appeared before Luke unveiled his Gospel. That puts the probable dates of both early compositions somewhere within the A.D. 50's. The significant point here is that the period from Jesus' death to the first three Gospels is simply too short for the introduction of myths and legends.

The virgin birth, miracles, and the resurrection counseled me there right from the start. Those "incredible" supernatural events were a complicated area of the original story.

Many saw and remembered Jesus' miracles, and also over five hundred people saw the resurrected Jesus one time. Early Christianity trusted this well known for recruiting sign ups. The apostles noticed that this resurrected miracle worker was both Lord and Christ. As Peter demonstrated at Pentecost, it was a really persuasive argument.

Gospel of John

The apostle John "the disciple whom Jesus loved" may be the author. He refers to "the disciple whom Jesus loved" six times without naming the name. He was prominent in early church, but his name isn't mentioned in this Gospel. That's one of the little oddities of his book. "The disciple whom Jesus loved" would be a "natural" if somewhat coy way of talking about himself if John were the author. Otherwise, it is impossible to explain.

The Gospel of John includes a quantity of personal eyewitness touches for example recalling the fragrance of Mary's pure nard perfume which she poured on Jesus' feet in the home at Bethany. And then there is the episode of Jesus writing in the dust with his finger once they brought him the lady caught in adultery.

C.S. Lewis points out that the significance of this "dust writing" is it has no significance. Whether it were a tale, it might be the objective of the realistic prose fiction which never actually existed before the 18th century. To quote Lewis: "Surely, the only explanation of this passage is that the thing really happened. The author place it in due to the fact he had seen it."

Two early Christian writers, Irenaeus and Tertullian, both declare that John the apostle composed this Gospel and also the internal evidence concurs. Traditionally, it has been dated around A.D. 85. More recently, some scholars have suggested an earlier date, even down to the 50's with no later than the 70's. One little bit of internal evidence is John 5:2, where John uses the present tense "is" rather than "was" for a pool close to the Sheep Gate. That implies a period before A.D. 70 when Jerusalem was destroyed.

In 1935 a little fragment from the Gospel of John was found and dated in a.D. 125. It is called the John Ryland Manuscript. One for reds quotes John 18:31-33, and the other sides shows verses 37-38. The importance of this find is difficult to overstate, because it helps you to read the traditional date of the Gospel within the first century. Before discovery, there was a movement among scholars to place the original composition date around A.D. 170.

Textual Criticism

There is an academic discipline called "Textual Criticism." When the original document is lost, textual critics compare all available copies to try and piece together what the original document probably said. Generally the more manuscripts available and also the closer they date to the original, the better. The New Testament scores well on points.

New Testament books give a insightful material for the text critic scholars to evaluate: 5,147 ancient manuscripts, over 10,000 translated scripts into Latin Vulgate, and various other translations, plus a large range of early scripture quotations through the church fathers. The majority of the variations in the copies are minor variations for example word order, spelling, grammar, or stylistic details. However, some variations really make a difference. The United Bible Societies' Greek New Testament lists 2,040 teams of word variations they think Bible translators should consider.

Does that appear to be a large amount of disagreement? Actually, it represents a very small portion of the New Testament scriptures. But the important point is that this: The unanimous opinion among text scholars remains intact; none of the disputed words affect any doctrine from the Christian faith.

Realistically that's the best Christians could hope for. The same textual criticism which analyzes all ancient text confirms the substance from the New Testament text. The ancient text experts inform us the New Testament account we've today is basically the same message the authors recorded over nineteen centuries ago.

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