#like physically painful to restrain myself jesus christ

[sassygwaine]

hi hi hi

the thing they don’t tell you about unmasking is that there will be situations where you will have to continue to mask

and it will hurt now, to correct yourself

[doc-pickles]

i won’t hesitate (for you) chapter eight

Jo is happy, at least she feels like she is. When someone from her past shows up, will her and her daughter’s world ever go back to normal? Or will things change for good?

Hey friends... So it's been over a month.... I bet you guys thought this story was done... Honestly for a moment I did too and I was super bummed because I love this story so much. But stepping away from my writing and focusing on myself did the trick and I am now happy to report that I have the WHOLE ENTIRE rest of Hesitate planned out and I'm slowly (very slowly) chipping away at writing to make those plans a reality. Thanks to all of you for being so patient and for wanting me to continue this project!! You're the beeeeeest!! xoxo Nina

-

“Jo… Jo come back to bed, baby. Alarm doesn’t go off for ten minutes.”

Izzie stared down Alex’s still sleeping figure, watching him for a moment before continuing to walk around the room and get ready for the day. Every morning for the past week, Alex would always call out for Jo when Izzie got out of bed for work. She didn’t think he knew, but the words annoyed her more and more everyday.

“Babe, come back,” Alex groaned, rolling on to his stomach and reaching out for the side of the bed that Izzie had just left. “Jo… Jo…”

“I’m not Jo, Alex,” Izzie exclaimed in frustration, prompting Alex to fly up in bed and look from the empty side of the bed to Izzie. “I am not Jo! And I never will be and if that’s a problem for you, then you can run back to Seattle!”

“Izzie no… I’m sorry I,” Alex ran a hand through his hair and let out a groan. “I wanna stay here for the kids but I… I don’t think you and I are going to work out this time.”

“Why would it ever? You’re just the same pathetic man I left ten years ago,” Izzie threw a pillow towards Alex as she walked out of the bedroom. “I can’t believe you, Alex. Actually I can! You’re still not good enough for me.”

-

Deep breaths. In, out, in, out. Good, you can do this. Today will be a breeze.

Jo had found out about her pregnancy a month ago and every day since then had consisted of her trying to keep her breakfast down. Some days were better than others, but today might be the worst. She’d had to break out her elastic banded scrubs this morning because her regular scrubs wouldn’t pull up over her hips. The elastic was much more comfortable, but the thought of her body changing again had sent Jo into a fit of tears on the bathroom floor which resulted in her throwing up for almost 20 minutes.

“Karev! I’ve got an abdominal obstruction and I think we’re gonna need an emergency colostomy surgery,” Owen sidled up to Jo as the two walked into the ER, the older man sending Jo a grin. “But that’s up to you of course. Good luck!”

Jo grabbed the chart outside Trauma Room 2, entering the room with a forced smile. Her stomach had been flipping back and forth since she woke up this morning and she’d thrown up twice before she came into work. Apparently her baby was not happy to be residing in her uterus.

“Hi Mr. Little, I'm Doctor Karev and I’m gonna check you out real quick and we’ll see where to go from there,” Jo tried to put on a happy face as her stomach churned unpleasantly. She grabbed her stethoscope and began her routine check. “You said you’ve been having stomach pain, how long has that been going on for?”

“About three days,” the older man let out a groan as Jo began to palpate his abdomen. “Oh that’s not a pleasant feeling. A little softer dear or…”

Jo looked up as her patient fell silent, watching in abject horror as the man leaned forward and vomited across his lap. Moving as quickly as she could, Jo leapt back but was greeted with blowback across her chest and arms.

“Oh god,” Jo’s stomach flipped a final time before she turned to her left and emptied her stomach onto the floor of the ER. Jo felt as if the whole room was staring her down as she stood next to a pile of her own vomit. It was as if those dreams of going to school naked had come alive, a feeling of horror washing over Jo as she processed what had just happened.

“What the hell is happening,” Owen rushed over, looking from Jo to her patient, who was staring at her in shock. “Mr. Little, I’ll get you another doctor right away. And someone to help you clean up. Karev, follow me.”

Turning to follow Owen, Jo paused as the scent of vomit overwhelmed her senses once again. Stepping around Owen, Jo leaned over the closest trash bin and emptied her stomach again, a strangled cry leaving her as the acid burned her throat.

“You can go home,” Owen was standing behind Jo now, a gentle hand resting on her back as she stayed bent over. “We’ll survive without you. Go home, Jo.”

A heavy sigh left Jo as she nodded to Owen, standing up and heading upstairs for the attendings lounge. She hadn’t even been out of the house for an hour and she felt like the whole day was going down the drain.

Pressing a hand against the growing swell of her stomach, Jo silently begged the little life resting there to just calm down for the rest of the day. Her almost 12 week bump was harder to camouflage, but Jo knew that the closer she came to her second trimester the less her morning sickness would be an issue. She let out a heavy sigh, head popping up as the empty elevator chimed, signaling that it had arrived at its destination and was kicking Jo off into reality.

“I’m looking for Doctor Karev, it’s not a hard question to answer!”

Jo groaned as she turned a corner, not wanting to deal with anyone else today. Her job came first though, so she walked to the nurses station and put on a brave face.

“I’m Doctor Karev, what’s the issue,” Jo looked from the nurse to the woman standing in front of her, feeling as if she’d just been punched in the gut. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Jo had never met Izzie Stevens, but the woman was unmistakable.  Her painted lips turned down at the sight of Jo standing in front of her, obviously disappointed that she wasn’t Alex. The perfectly curled blonde hair and full face of makeup didn’t sit well with Jo, realizing with a flash of anger exactly why the woman was there.

“I’m not here for you, I’m here for Alex,” Izzie came around to stand a few feet in front of Jo, arms crossed as she stared her down. “Why don’t you tell me where your ex husband is and we can all get along.”

“Oh I am not starting with you today, you need to take your pathetic ass back to Kansas,” Jo took a step forward, arms crossing to mirror Izzie’s stance. She knew she was attracting attention, she could see Levi frantically grasping for his pager out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t stop herself. “You know as well as I do that Alex doesn’t want to see you. You fucked him over and he’s moved on. And I know damn well he’s not going to want to talk to you.”

Izzie stared at Jo for a moment, her lips finally turning into a smile as she began to laugh at her. Jo could feel her blood boiling, her heart rate pounding loudly in her ears as she clenched her fists in an attempt to keep herself planted in her spot.

“Oh please, I’m sure that bratty kid of yours isn’t even his either, stop putting on this picture perfect princess show,” Izzie chuckled, narrowing her eyes as she saw Jo’s face redden. “Oh did I hit a nerve? Serves you right you-”

“You’re a sorry excuse for a mom if you think putting your kids through what you did was the right thing,” Jo’s voice rose and she took a final step towards Izzie, her face inches from the older woman’s. She shouldn’t retaliate, but Izzie had gotten under Jo’s skin and she wasn’t going to let her get the last word.

“And you’re a shitty person on top of that for what you dragged Alex through. So you can talk about your stupid children of the corn and you can even talk about how much you fucked over Alex, but you do not get to talk about MY daughter. If I hear her name in your mouth again, so help me I will drag you back to Kansas by your hair myself you self absorbed home wrecking psycho.”

That set Izzie off, her hands coming up for Jo just as Alex ran up and pulled her away from the blonde. Jo, for what it was worth, was thankful that he’d come when he did because she wasn’t entirely sure that she could have kept her hands to herself.

“Jesus Christ! Don't you dare lay a hand on her Izzie,” Alex’s voice bellowed through the halls as he stared down his ex. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

“Well I came to check on you, but it seems that your washed up ex here has you fooled once again. Are you even sure this one is yours? Or maybe she trapped you on purpose this time,” Izzie sneered, eyes roaming down to Jo’s stomach. The dark blue scrubs were pulled tight against her abdomen as Alex held her, making it clear as day that she was pregnant. “You’re lucky you’re pregnant, I would ha-”

“You’re lucky I’m pregnant,” Jo yelled back, Alex tightening his grip on her as she tried to break away from him. “You’d be out cold right now if I wasn’t you stupid bitch!”

“I don’t want you here Iz, and I really don’t appreciate you yelling at Jo like that,” Jo could feel the anger radiating off of Alex as he set Izzie straight. She could tell that Alex’s firm grip on her arms wasn’t just to her benefit, but his too as he held back his barely restrained rage. “Might I remind you that you’re the one that spent three years lying to my face about the paternity of your kids.”

“Now what the hell is happening in my hospital,” all three doctors turned as Miranda Bailey walked up to the scene, Meredith trailing behind her with a sour look on her face. “Izzie Stevens, I know damn well you’re not standing here right now screaming and threatening to physically attack a doctor of this hospital, and a pregnant one at that.”

“Doctor Bailey, I-”

“That’s enough from you,” Bailey fixed Izzie with a glare, eyes narrowing threateningly as she looked upon the doctor she’d once known so well. “You’re going to turn around and walk out of here and you are not to set foot in Grey Sloan again unless they bring you in a damn ambulance or so help me I will have the police here faster than you can say ‘LVAD wire’. Are we clear?” Watching the situation in front of her play out, Jo could feel the familiar pull of anxiety coursing through her. She’d been able to keep it at bay since Alex had come back home, but the ocean of worry and fear began to crest in her stomach again. Her heart began to beat unsteadily as she brought her hand to cover Alex’s on her arm, her feet feeling more unsteady the longer she dwelled on what just happened.

“Jo? You okay?”

Jo’s eyes snapped up to Meredith, who was looking at her quizzically. She could feel Alex tensing behind her, his grip on her tightening as he looked her over. She could feel herself begin to sweat and her forehead heating up as she leaned her weight against Alex.

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, I’m just a little anxious,” Jo knew as soon as the words came out that Alex would understand what she meant. The nerves in her body were shot and she was pretty sure she’d pass out if she attempted to move out of Alex’s arms. She lowered her voice as she squeezed Alex’s hand, “I just really need to get out of here. Please.”

Alex nodded to Meredith before he began to lead Jo away from the tense hallway, his arms never leaving their place around her shoulders as they headed for the attendings lounge. Her breathing was ragged by the time she sat on the couch in the lounge, Alex’s hand running over her back as sobs began to well up from within her.

“You don’t believe her right? You don’t think I lied to you about Harper or this baby do you,” Jo tried to keep herself composed as she looked up at Alex, but the sad expression on his face made her begin to cry even more. “I swear I wouldn’t do that to you Alex, please don’t believe her.”

“Jo don’t listen to a word that comes out of her mouth. I know you’d never lie to me like that,” Alex wrapped his arm around Jo, bringing her into his side as she continued to cry. “I know you’re not trying to trap me, I know you. You’re a brilliant surgeon, an excellent mother and a fantastic wife, so don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Jo felt the wave of anxiety crash inside of her finally, Alex’s words doing little to ease her thoughts as she continued to sob loudly. She held a hand to her chest as her mind began to reel from the words that had been thrown at her.

“I can’t… I can’t breathe,” Jo choked out between sobs, gasping loudly as she tried in vain to calm herself down. “I’m so sorry… Alex I’m sorry.”

“Babe, look at me, come on Jo,” Alex held his fingers under Jo’s chin and waited for her to look up and meet his eyes. “Breathe with me, in and out. You’re not doing yourself or the baby any good by freaking out. Deep breaths, there you go.”

Jo’s breathing evened out as she followed Alex’s instructions, moving a hand down to cradle her stomach as she closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. When she was satisfied, she leaned her head against Alex’s forehead and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry it’s just… I wasn’t expecting that today. Or ever,” Jo let a low chuckle out, eyes fluttering open to meet Alex’s. “And I might’ve thrown up on the ER floor earlier but that’s not important.”

“Yeah you smell like fish guts,” Alex joked as he pressed a kiss to Jo’s hair. “Let’s go get Harper and go home. We can put on a movie and relax, okay?”

“That sounds like the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

+

“She picked the movie, I had no say in it,” Jo walked out of the bathroom and looked from Alex to Harper with a smirk. “Come on Jo, you know I can’t say no to her.”

“I know you can’t, you’re a big softie.”

Jo settled into Alex's left side, his hand coming around her to settle his hand against the curve of her stomach as Harper cuddled deeper into his right side. She’d showered and changed while Alex and Harper had set up in the living room to watch Moana upon Harper’s insistence. After their unsettling morning, neither of them wanted to be anywhere else.

“I’m sorry about what happened, if I had even the slightest idea that she would come here I would have told you Jo, believe me,” Alex’s tone was hushed as he kept his eyes on Harper. “That part of my life is over, I’m going to file a protective order for all three of us tomorrow.”

“Alex, I-”

“No, I can’t keep going to work worrying about you two every second of the day,” Alex finally turned his gaze back to Jo, eyes scanning her worriedly. “I… when I went back to Kansas to settle everything Izzie pulled some crazy stuff. Things I didn’t think she was capable of and things I don’t want you or Harper or this little one to be subjected to. So please, let me do this so I can feel like I’m doing something to help.”

Burrowing her head into Alex’s chest, Jo nodded and used one hand to run through Harper’s curls. The little girl meant more to her than anything, along with her sibling still growing in Jo’s womb. Her and Alex could agree on that much, so she would let him do what he felt was needed to protect them.

“Daddy quiet,” Harper poked at Alex and then pointed back to the television. “Watch movie.”

Jo felt Alex’s chest rumble as he laughed at Harper, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years as she enjoyed the quiet evening with her daughter and her… well Alex was definitely something. She wasn’t eager to label things, afraid it would disrupt the sense of peace they’d fallen into, but she had a good feeling about their relationship this time around.

“Mm I found another house for us to look at this weekend, it’s close to the hospital and it has a big backyard,” Jo looked up to Alex, who’s eyes were already on her. “I think we should put an offer in on this one. Trust me.” “I do, I’d trust you with my life,” a knock sounded at the door, Alex prying himself away from both girls who had no problems voicing their displeasure with him. “Sorry girls, I gotta get the pizza and I know neither of you were going to stand up and get it.”

“Just gives me an excuse to cuddle with Harps here,” Jo pulled Harper into her lap, the little girl giggling as her mom wrapped her up in her arms.

Jo and Harper sat in silence for a minute, intently watching the movie playing out. When Alex didn’t return, Jo turned around to see what he was up to, only to find him still standing by the door.

“Alex?”

“She’s taking me to court,” Alex muttered, holding up a small stack of papers. “Izzie served me and she’s taking me to court for child support.”

[thewhiterabbit42]

Wicked Games Part 2

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Series Summary:  When a trickster seeks revenge on Gabriel, he traps the archangel in a sex dungeon with the person he despises the most: you.  

Word Count:  2726

Written for:  @spndarkbingo​ - sex dungeon

@heavenandhellbingo​ - dark fic

Chapter tags/warnings: kidnapping, nonconsensual removal of clothing, threats of violence

Series tags/warnings (as it stands): dark fic, medium burn, kidnapping, sex dungeon, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, violence, graphic depictions of horror, dub con, non con, oral sex, it’s a sex dungeon so likely all the sex, confessed feelings, bondage, more tba

<<Part 1

“You are such an asshole!” 

You’re crouched behind - well, you honestly don’t want to think about what it is you’re hiding behind.  Your stomach flips just acknowledging the combination of wood, leather, and metal bars, let alone the variety of uses one could get from it.  

There’s a chill to the room that settles across every inch of bare skin, which happens to be just about all of you, because someone decided to outdo themselves in the giant dick department and play the douchiest prank of the century.  Possibly the last several by snapping you to some god awful place in a matching set of black lace bra and panties.

This isn’t what you expected to find walking into an abandoned hunting camp in the middle of the woods.  It has to be Gabriel’s doing.  There’s no way that faded wooden planks can disguise this much concrete, let alone double in size the moment you walk through the door. 

You know you saw windows, a little sliding glass door off the side, but the only glass you can find comes in shapes for things you’re trying really hard not to remember exist.  

“This isn’t funny!”

“Do you hear me laughing?”  The sardonic edge beneath his words becomes lost to you as you look up at the wall.  

There are rows and rows of hooks with various items hanging from them.  Floggers, paddles, canes, whips, all staring back at your wide-eyed face.

Then there's the restraining materials; ropes, chains, zip ties, leather cuffs, actual manacles, metal ones that belong in medieval dungeons.  

Given the lack of anything but wall to wall stone, you can't discount that you might really be in one.  

What the actual fuck. 

Your heart hammers in your chest, and you have to remind yourself that none of this is real;  you haven't actually woken up naked in some sort of sex dungeon.  This is just Gabriel being a shit.  

The worst kind of shit, but one nonetheless.

"Bring us back," you order, hugging your knees to your chest.  

"You need to calm down," he barks right back at you. 

Yeah, like that's helpful.  Like you want the sensation of your lungs shrinking as another windowless room starts to overlay this one.  

You try to focus on something else, but it’s hard to ignore the way your head begins to spin as you struggle to take in air, how unforgiving the lights above you are, highlighting all the physical reminders of why you hate being boxed in by concrete.  

The back of your neck begins to burn with a familiar feeling of helplessness, signalling things are about to get messy real fast.

"You need to bring us back right fucking now!" You've never yelled at him before, not like this, and he has to know how much he's messed up and snap you back.  He has to.

"I can't!"  He erupts, voice booming through the large room.  "You really think I'd snap myself naked into a place like this?" 

The unspoken with you is a given, and you're so done with everything that it takes a moment for what he’s saying to sink in.

He’s naked?

You lean toward the end of the table, curiosity making you slowly peek around the side.  A muscular thigh greets you, pale golden skin offset by meticulous black stitching that runs nearly to his knee.  He shifts his weight, and you yank your head back a split second before anything else can slide into view.  

Oh sweet jesus.

Heat sweeps into your cheeks.  Of course he’d be naked.  Why wouldn’t he be?

"You know anyone else that can pull things out of thin air?"  Your retort comes out a little less confident, though you’re still not convinced he’s not to blame.  Who’s to say he’s not smart enough to put himself in a precarious position to prove his supposed innocence?

He goes silent, and after several seconds of nothing you begin to worry.

Your second glance around the corner gives you an eyeful of firm backside.  He’s drawn up to full height, spine straight and proud as if surveying his handiwork.

What.  A.  Jerk.  

"It's got to be another trickster," he announces.

Yeah.  Like you’re going to buy that.  

Your eyes are drawn past him to the carnival-esque signs that detail what can be found on each wall, as if advertising for things like ring tosses and balloon popping rather than dildos and nipple clamps.  Not to mention how every wall of sex toys is backlit in some gaudy display, surrounded by obnoxious flashing lights you might find on a gameshow.

What really makes you suspicious is the giant wheel in the midst of it all, which is clearly the centerpiece of this freakshow.  

"You're so full of shit." And you're so so over this. “Give me back my clothes and get me out of here right now.”

Apparently, so is he.  

“Are you really that brain dead after spending so much time with the dynamic duo?”  He snarls, and it isn’t the contemptuous bite of his tone that has your stomach knotting, but the black bands you notice as he throws his arms out wide.  “Because what part of I can’t did you not understand?”  

His hands shake with his frustration, the material around his wrists flaring bright with his anger.   

You swallow, more than familiar with the types of symbols that glow a heavenly blue before fading from sight once again.  

Oh fuck.  

“God dammit, Gabriel!”  You scream, because you have to scream at something.  Someone.  Anything.  

You drop your head back hard against the metal eyelets behind it.  For a moment there’s nothing but the small flare of pain and the increasingly frantic cadence of your heart thumping away in your ears.  

You’re actually trapped.  In a sex dungeon.  With a powerless archangel who hates you so much he'd likely prefer to bury his angel blade inside you before he touched you with his personal one.   

“What the hell did I do?” 

He has the gall to sound miffed, and you cling desperately to your fury like driftwood to keep your head from going under. 

"Anyone else kick a hornet’s nest lately and now has a host of vengeful deities on their ass?”  

He at least has the decency to shut his mouth for three seconds.  

You, on the other hand, lose the ability to close yours.  “Let’s not all speak up at once.”

"Just... let me think.”  The bite beneath his words unexpectedly vanishes, and you don’t like how deflated he sounds.

Your mind starts to race, the frantic pace pushing the fringe of hysteria with how fast it whirls.

You should have seen the signs.

You should have walked away.  

You didn’t, and just like before, you’re going to pay for it.  

“Jesus Christ, kid, can you take a breath?  I can’t hear myself think with the way you’re panicking.”  

He’s not harping for once.  If anything, he might be the one panicking, but you’re beyond being able to read the subtleties of his demeanor.  All you hear is the same message he’s been feeding you for months.  

You’re the problem.  You’re always in the way.  Useless.  Useless.  Useless.

“Why is it always my fault?”  You yell.  “I’m the one that always ends up as collateral in the collective shitstorms you bring down upon yourselves.”

You know you’re not thinking clearly.  You’re falling straight down a rabbithole that has nothing good on the other side.  But your brain doesn’t see that, and it can’t do anything other than fire away with warning.

“For all the bitching you do with each other, you’re exactly the same.”  Your voice continues to rise, adrenaline saturating your system.  “You’re so wrapped up in your own agendas that you can’t see what it’s doing to anyone around you even when the damage is sitting in front of your god damn face.”

For the life of you, you don’t understand why you do it anymore.  Your relationship with Dean is so broken you’re not sure it can ever be repaired, and you’re pretty certain what shred of one remains with Gabriel won’t survive this encounter.  

The archangel says your name, but you can’t hear him.  There’s so much you’ve held back and desperately tried to bury that there’s no more space for it to go.  Everything comes barreling to the surface in a tidal wave of rage, because you can’t allow it to be what it actually is.  Hurt layered upon injustices that fester so deeply, trying to cleanse yourself of it at this point might actually destroy you.  

But hate, you can handle that.  

“I don’t need either of you or your bullshit excuses!”

For a moment there’s nothing but seething red and an overwhelming need to release it.  You don’t even know what’s happening with your foot until it slams against the pillar in front of you.  The stone doesn’t give, but your ankle does, and you growl at the explosion of pain that cuts through the whirlwind of emotions inside of you.   

“Now, now, we can’t have you damaging the goods so early in the game…”  

You can’t tell where the voice is coming from, only that it’s everywhere.  Above.  Behind.  Flooding in from every side, wrapping you within the confines of its sultry accent and sending a knot through your stomach.  It pulls your head back above the water, where you find you’re dragging in lungfuls of air no differently than if you really have been drowning.  

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”  Gabriel knows who it is, and given recent events, you’re not reassured, even if he sounds more peeved than anything.  

The air next to the cement column shimmers, and if there was any give to the object at your back, you would have shot back several feet.  The thing sits bolted straight into cement, however, and it doesn’t do much other than wiggle as your spine slams against it.  

You’re not sure what materializes in front of you.  Those are definitely human legs rising up from the floor, long and lanky, with golden bronze skin that make you think of places filled with warmth and sunshine.  The rest of it is most definitely not a person, though you’re grateful at least one member of this party comes with clothing.  

Somewhere beneath the brightly colored wrap around its waist it changes, skin giving way to a sprinkling of fur that thickens the further up your eyes travel.  It’s chest is fully covered with a coat so glossy you’re tempted to see if it really does feel as silky as it looks.  As odd as the whole thing is, it helps make the coyote head sitting on top of humanesque shoulders a little less shocking.  

You take in the regal headdress that you imagine says something about its status, the red and yellow feathers a colorful contrast to the sea of blacks, metal, and greys of the room.  Nothing about the figure jars anything specific loose from your lore knowledge, though by it’s accent and appearance your guess would be some sort of deity from Latin America.

“You.”  The archangel grumbles, accusation threading through his word. 

The creature smiles.  “Me.”  He spreads his arms wide, an exorbitant amount of pride accompanying the gesture, and it’s not lost on you how very Gabriel-esque the whole entrance is.  “How are you, old friend?  I imagine you’ve seen better days?”

His gaze drops to where you’re sitting, and his head gives a curious tilt.  “And I imagine you have too, my dear?”

“Who the hell are you?”  You don’t feel as fierce as your words would imply, and you could be wrapped from head to toe and still feel exposed with the way he drinks the sight of you in without shame.  

The thing chuckles, clearly amused.   

“Kid, meet Huehuecoyotl,” Gabriel announces.  “Another trickster.”  

You can feel the smugness permeating the space around you, bordering on hubris in a way that’s been inauspiciously absent.  You can’t help but feel like it’s an act, no different than yours, and it only makes you that much more nervous.

“Now are you going to tell me what is going on, or are you here to finish that round of twenty questions we started at the turn of the century?”  He demands.

You can just see him now, hands on his hips, boorish indifference splashing across his features.  

The whole act is just as ignored by the thing in front of you as it would with you.  

“May I?”  The trickster inquires, though he doesn’t actually wait before he reaches for your ankle with grotesque nubs caught somewhere between a paw and a hand.  

You jerk back and he pauses, letting out a soft snort.  “Ah, yes.  How silly of me.”  

An unsettling popping fills the room, and you watch as it’s joints begin to shift, tips extending into fully-formed, fingers.  The fur covering them adds another touch of surreal to the whole situation.

“That’s better.  Won’t get very far without these.” He wiggles the new digits at you, bones cracking as they shake off their stiffness.  

He’s not going to get far, period, opposable thumbs or not.  

You’ve never been so relieved to hear Gabriel open his mouth or intentionally diminish your presence.  “C’mon, Coy.  Stop wasting time with her.”  

The thing smiles, and your stomach drops at the row of long, jagged teeth that emerges.  

“I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do with my time, Loki, or should I say, Gabriel.”  He draws the archangel’s true name out, rolling the r on his tongue in a way that’s intimate.  

There’s an unmistakable gleam in his gaze when he glances up, and the moment the weight of his stare shifts from you, you realize how magnificent it is. Copper hues blend seamlessly with bronze, the colors tied together with flecks of gold that sparkle more playfully than anything. 

It tugs at something in your chest, something you immediately smother.

“That was quite the trick you both pulled, making the world believe that only one of you existed.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head.  “But we’ll get to that in a moment.”  

With a wave of his hand, the room around you fades to darkness, as the light above your head intensifies.  The sudden spotlight makes you uneasy, as does the way you can still touch the floor beneath you, but not the table at your back.

“Seriously.  Stop dicking around with her and let’s talk about this.”  Gabriel’s voice floats in on the fringes, but it’s like he’s calling across a chasm, the familiar timbre distant and faded.   

It takes all of an instant to realize what’s happening.

“What do you want?”  Your arms tighten across your chest, and you’re even more acutely aware of just how exposed you are.  

“So many things.”  You can’t begin to unpack the complexities of his statement or the ones that follows.  “Mostly, I just want to help.”

Your eyes widen at the knife he brandishes, stomach plummeting well beneath concrete as he holds the blade up in front of your face.  Power pours off the metal, prickling over your skin in a way that alarms you.  It has to be ancient, filled with something you don’t recognize or understand.  

“Sometimes, in order to make something stronger, we must first destroy it.”

You can’t help but notice the short but curved blade attached to the end or the spiked ridges along the inner edge that can’t be for anything other than tearing through flesh. 

“Pain, as a construct, is ultimately fleeting, though the weight of breaking or watching someone break can be unbearable, no matter which side of the knife you are on.”

You swallow, eyes drifting up to the handle, trying to find something you recognize.  

It’s exquisite, a combination of beautiful gems and the finest spellwork you’ve ever seen with ethereal, symbols and lettering shifting along the surface in a way that almost makes them seem alive.  There’s no rhyme or reason to how they move, not that you can tell, and you’d be otherwise fascinated with the weapon, except it’s leveled in your direction.

“Now hold still,” He instructs, his grip on your calf tightening. “I’d prefer not to hurt you more than necessary.”

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[yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere]

THIS SCENE in IMAGINE ME

“I will only ask you one more time,” Anderson says to his son, his voice trembling as it grows louder. “What did you do with her?” Still, Warner stares impassively. He’s spattered in unknown blood, holding a machine gun like it might be a briefcase, and staring at his father like he might be staring at the ceiling. Anderson can’t control his temper the way Warner can—and it’s obvious to everyone that this is a battle of wills he’s going to lose. Anderson already looks half out of his mind. His hair is matted and sticking up in places. Blood is congealing on his face, his eyes shot through with red. He looks so deranged—so unlike himself—that I honestly have no idea what’s going to happen next. And then he lunges for Warner. He’s like a belligerent drunk, wild and angry, unhinged in a way I’ve never seen before. His swings are wild but strong, unsteady but studied. He reminds me, in a sudden, frightening flash of understanding, of the father Adam so often described to me. A violent drunk fueled by rage. Except that Anderson doesn’t appear to be drunk at the moment. No. This is pure, unadulterated anger. Anderson seems to have lost his mind. He doesn’t just want to shoot Warner. He doesn’t want someone else to shoot Warner. He wants to beat him to a pulp. He wants physical satisfaction. He wants to break bones and rupture organs with his own hands. Anderson wants the pleasure of knowing that he and he alone was able to destroy his own son. But Warner isn’t giving him that satisfaction. He meets Anderson blow for blow in fluid, precise movements, ducking and sidestepping and twisting and defending. He never misses a beat. It’s almost like he can read Anderson’s mind. I’m not the only one who’s stunned. I’ve never seen Warner move like this, and I almost can’t believe I’ve never seen it before. I feel a sudden, unbidden surge of respect for him as I watch him block attack after attack. I keep waiting for him to knock the dude out, but Warner makes no effort to hit Anderson; he only defends. And only when I see the increasing fury on Anderson’s face do I realize that Warner is doing this on purpose. He’s not fighting back because he knows it’s what Anderson wants. The cool, emotionless expression on Warner’s face is driving Anderson insane. And the more he fails to rattle his son, the more enraged Anderson gets. Blood still trickles, slowly, from the half-healed wound on his neck when he cries out, angrily, and pulls free a gun from inside his jacket pocket. “Enough,” he shouts. “That is enough.” Warner takes a careful step back. “Give me the girl, Aaron. Give me the girl and I will spare the rest of these idiots. I only want the girl.” Warner is an immovable object. “Fine,” Anderson says angrily. “Seize him.”

Six supreme guards begin advancing on Warner, and he doesn’t so much as flinch. I exchange glances with Winston and it’s enough; I throw my invisibility over Winston just as he throws his arms out, his ability to stretch his limbs knocking three of them to the ground. In the same moment, Haider pulls a machete from somewhere inside the bloodied chain mail he’s wearing under his coat, and tosses it to Warner, who drops the machine gun and catches the blade by the hilt without even looking.

A fucking machete.

Castle is on his knees, arms toward the sky as he breaks off more pieces of the half-devastated building, but this time Anderson’s men don’t give him the chance. I run forward, too late to help as Castle is knocked out from behind, and still I throw myself into the fight, battling for ownership of the soldier’s gun with skills I developed as a teenager: a single, solid punch to the nose. A clean uppercut. A hard kick to the chest. A good old-fashioned strangulation. I look up, gasping for breath, hoping for good news— And do a double take. Ten men have closed in on Warner, and I don’t understand where they came from. I thought we were down to three or four. I spin around, confused, turning back just in time to watch Warner drop to one knee and swing up with the machete in a sudden, perfect arc, gutting the man like a fish. Warner turns, another strong swing slicing through the guy on his left, disconnecting the dude’s spine in a move so horrific I have to look away. In the second it takes me to turn back, another guard has already charged forward. Warner pivots sharply, shoving the blade directly up the guy’s throat and into his open, screaming mouth. With a final tug, Warner pulls the blade free, and the man falls to the ground with a single, soft thud. The remaining members of the Supreme Guard hesitate. I realize then, that—whoever these new soldiers are—they’ve been given specific orders to attack Warner, and no one else. The rest of us are suddenly without an obvious task, free to sink into the ground, disappear into exhaustion. Tempting. I search for Castle, wanting to make sure he’s okay, and realize he looks stricken. He’s staring at Warner. Warner, who’s staring at the blood pooling beneath his feet, his chest heaving, his fist still clenched around the shank of the machete. All this time, Castle really thought Warner was just a nice boy who’d made some simple mistakes. The kind of kid he could bring back from the brink.

Not today.

Warner looks up at his father, his face more blood than skin, his body shaking with rage.- “Is this what you wanted?” he cries. But even Anderson seems surprised. Another guard moves forward so silently I don’t even see the gun he’s aimed in Warner’s direction until the soldier screams and collapses to the ground. His eyes bulge as he clutches at his throat, where a shard of glass the size of my hand is caught in his jugular. I whip my head around to face Warner. He’s still staring at Anderson, but his free hand is now dripping blood.

Jesus Christ.

“Take me, instead,” Warner says, his voice piercing the quiet.

 Anderson seems to come back to himself. “What?”

 “Leave her. Leave them all. Give me your word that you will leave her alone, and I will come back with you.” I go suddenly still. And then I look around, eyes wild, for any indication that we’re going to stop this idiot from doing something reckless, but no one meets my eyes. Everyone is riveted. Terrified. But when I feel a familiar presence suddenly materialize beside me, relief floods through my body. I reach for her hand at the same time she reaches for mine, squeezing her fingers once before breaking the brief connection. Right now, it’s enough to know she’s here, standing next to me.

Nazeera is okay.

We all wait in silence for the scene to change, hoping for something we don’t even know how to name. It doesn’t come.

“I wish it were that simple,” Anderson says finally. “I really do. But I’m afraid we need the girl. She is not so easily replaced.”

“You said that Emmaline’s body was deteriorating.” Warner’s voice is low, but clear. Miraculously steady. “You said that without a strong enough body to contain her, she’d become volatile. You need a replacement,” Warner says. “A new body. Someone to help you complete Operation Synthesis.”

 “No,” Castle cries. “No— Don’t do this—”

 “Take me,” Warner says. “I will be your surrogate.”

Anderson’s eyes go cold. He sounds almost convincingly calm when he says, “You would be willing to sacrifice yourself—your youth and your health and your entire life—to let that damaged, deranged girl continue to walk the earth?” Anderson’s voice begins to rise in pitch. He seems suddenly on the verge of another breakdown. “Do you even understand what you’re saying? You have every opportunity—all the potential—and you’d be willing to throw it all away? In exchange for what?” he cries. “Do you even know the kind of life to which you’d be sentencing yourself ?”

 A dark look passes over Warner’s face. “I think I would know better than most.”

 Anderson pales. “Why would you do this?”

It becomes clear to me then that even now, despite everything, Anderson doesn’t actually want to lose Warner. Not like this. But Warner is unmoved. He says nothing. Betrays nothing. He only blinks as someone else’s blood drips down his face.

“Give me your word,” Warner finally says. “Your word that you will leave her alone forever. I want you to let her disappear. I want you to stop tracking her every move. I want you to forget she ever existed.” He pauses. “In exchange, you can have what’s left of my life.”

Nazeera gasps. Haider takes a sudden, angry step forward and Stephan grabs his arm, somehow still strong enough to restrain Haider even as his own body bleeds out. “This is his choice,” Stephan gasps, wrapping his free arm around a tree for support. “Leave him.”

 “This is a stupid choice,” Haider cries. “You can’t do this, habibi. Don’t be an idiot.” (..)

 “I will stop fighting you,” Warner says. “I will do exactly as you ask. Whatever you want. Just let her live.”

 Anderson is silent for so long it sends a chill through me. Then: “No.” Without warning, Anderson raises his arm and fires two shots. The first, at Nazeera, hitting her square in the chest. The second— At me. Several people scream. I stumble, then sway, before collapsing.

Shit.

“Find her,” Anderson says, his voice booming. “Burn the whole place to the ground if you have to.”

The pain is blinding. It moves through me in waves, electric and searing. Someone is touching me, moving my body. I’m okay, I try to say. I’m okay. I’m okay. But the words don’t come. He’s hit me in my shoulder, I think. Just shy of my chest. I’m not sure. But Nazeera— Someone needs to get to Nazeera. 

“I had a feeling you’d do something like this,” I hear Anderson say. “And I know you used one of these two”—I imagine him pointing to my prone body, to Nazeera’s—“in order to make it happen.” Silence. “Oh, I see,” Anderson says. “You thought you were clever. You thought I didn’t know you had any powers at all.” Anderson’s voice seems suddenly loud, too loud. He laughs. “You thought I didn’t know? As if you could hide something like that from me. I knew it the day I found you in her holding cell. You were sixteen. You think I didn’t have you tested after that? You think I haven’t known, all these years, what you yourself didn’t realize until six months ago?”

A fresh wave of fear washes over me. Anderson seems too pleased and Warner’s gone quiet again, and I don’t know what any of that means for us. But just as I’m beginning to experience full-blown panic, I hear a familiar cry. It’s a sound of such horrific agony I can’t help but try to see what’s happening, even as flashes of white blur my vision. I catch a mottled glimpse: Warner standing over Anderson’s body, his right hand clenched around the handle of the machete he’s buried in his father’s chest. He plants his right foot on his father’s gut, and, roughly, pulls out the blade. Anderson’s moan is so animal, so pathetic I almost feel sorry for him. Warner wipes the blade on the grass, and tosses it back to Haider, who catches it easily by the hilt even as he stands there, stunned, staring at—me, I realize. Me and Nazeera. I’ve never seen him so unmasked. He seems paralyzed by fear. “Watch him,” Warner shouts to someone. He examines a gun he stole from his father, and, satisfied, he’s off, running after the Supreme Guard. Shots ring out in the distance.

My vision begins to go spotty. Sounds bleed together, shifting focus. For moments at a time all I hear is the sound of my own breathing, my heart beating. At least, I hope that’s the sound of my heart beating. Everything smells sharp, like rust and steel. I realize then, in a sudden, startling moment, that I can’t feel my fingers. Finally I hear the muffled sounds of nearby movement, of hands on my body, trying to move me.

 “Kenji?” Someone shakes me. “Kenji, can you hear me?” Winston. I make a sound in my throat. My lips seem fused together. “Kenji?” More shaking. “Are you okay?” With great difficulty, I pry my lips apart, but my mouth makes no sound.

Then, all at once: “Heyyyyybuddy.” Weird.

 “He’s conscious,” Winston says, “but disoriented. We don’t have much time. I’ll carry these two. See if you can find a way to transport the others. Where are the girls?” Someone says something back to him, and I don’t catch it. I reach out suddenly with my good hand, clamping down on Winston’s forearm.

“Don’t let them get J,” I try to say. “Don’t let—””

[eltanin-malfoy]

Too Late (Kill Or Be Killed V)

pairing : draco/fem-collegestudent!y/n 

word count : 3.9k

Chapter 1 2 3 4

warnings : swearing, sexual themes, mentions of rape/murder/drugging, angst (duh!), slight fluff

a/n : last part! i will most likely write up an epilogue in the future but.. not any time soon, sadly. (sorry for using the ugliest trope ever) thank you @unpeustupide for beta-ing!!!!!

Jesus Fucking Christ. 

Y/N had run her fingers down Draco’s arm slightly as they’d talked on her couch,and he’d thought that was the end of any sort of physical contact between them. 

But, oh boy, had he been wrong. 

He certainly hadn’t anticipated the night ending with a hand up under her shirt, rubbing at her bare back underneath it, as she squirmed on his lap, giggling at the rare moments their mouths didn’t attempt to devour one another, barely looking for a breath. 

He opened his eyes and looked into hers, the skin under her eyes crinkling the slightest bit as she smiled. He returned it but was quick to push their faces together again, bringing his other hand up and pressing it to her cheek. She let out the slightest sound, probably of surprise, and he took it as encouragement, sliding the tip of his tongue over the curve of her lower lip.

He could barely even recall the events that’d led them up to this point. It seemed as if she’d really just jumped into his arms (but had she? What had even gone down..?). Thoughts weren’t exactly coming to him clearly, what with all his blood rushing to..well. She couldn’t possibly be drugged again, could she? 

No, of course not. I’ve been with her ever since.

But I suppose.. it wouldn’t hurt to check. 

He pulled away from her and brought his hand to her jaw, holding her face in place. He gazed into her eyes intently, they seemed to hold the furthest stars on the sky and the deepest depths of the ocean in them.. No. Focus, Draco. He checked to see if they were unusually red or dilated or.. something else entirely.

 Well, they were dilated. But then again, probably so were his.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could… everything faded to black.

His eyes were open but it really was dark. Wherever he was. He attempted to bring his hands to his eyes, to rub at them sleepily and try to clear up whatever sort of darkness there was in front of him. No it was a blindfold, given his face felt rather numb, but nothing could ever be that dark.  He found his arms restrained, tied up. A bit more fidgeting informed him that practically all of his limbs were secured and that he was only really capable of wiggling his torso and his neck the slightest bit. He was sprawled over wooden chair and the back of his neck was aching, probably after having been there for a while. 

The slightest inkling of what might be happening suddenly popped up in Draco’s mind.

I certainly didn’t.. couldn’t have! I suppose for the right.. no! I don’t remember talking about anything to do with something like.. this. Didn’t think she’d be into S & M like this, frankly. Did she drug me this time and then..tie me up..? Could she have done that to me? No! NO!

He started to struggle and then, to his relief, he felt his jeans rub against his thighs, he was still fully clothed and nothing really felt too.. sore, well, not unless you counted what was certainly beginning to stir between his legs. Goddammit. Fucking… wait.

Did that even happen? The kissing? The feeling up? The.. everything?

Draco attempted to run through the evening’s events. He’d gone to work, droned through a shift, encountered his worst nightmare, agreed to spend some time with her after his shift, been caught off guard by her actually being.. nice, for once, had some drinks and then… he’d..

He’d obviously gotten too hammered, made out with her and then agreed to something he definitely wouldn’t have otherwise, had he been sober.  

Or.. perhaps not. It just seemed too odd. He really did dream up everything like that with her. And this was some sort of nasty old prank.

“Y/N? Are you.. there?” He finally worked up the courage to call out to her. His voice sounded raspier than normal, and it was only then that he realised that his throat was parched. And that his stomach felt worryingly too empty. 

She couldn’t have.. tied me up and gone off to do something else, right? 

SHE HASN’T LEFT ME SOMEWHERE NO ONE ELSE COULD EVER FIND ME, RIGHT?

“Y/N!?” He almost yelled out, trying his absolute hardest to tug his wrists away from the arms of the chair, but to no avail. 

“Yes!” He finally heard her reply. “Coming.” She sounded weirdly relaxed. Was this something she got up to often? Tying partners up in her house?

Is this why her and Cormac broke up..? Now was he her partner?

What am I doing?

The sound of her footsteps grew louder and he could hear that she’d drawn closer. It was so quiet but he could feel her breath quiver on his lips. He was burning up. . He was about to open his mouth and ask her to please, please help him out of whatever this was and tell him what happened last night.. But Y/N suddenly chose to laugh, quite loudly too.

“Wha-” Of course. She’d seen it. The very painful thing making its presence known only now. His legs were obviously bound such that it was… agonizingly obvious through his jeans. His legs secured to either leg of the chair presented ample view that too. FUCK.

His face heated up almost instantly and he oh, so desperately wanted to cross his legs. He suddenly ran through the thoughts that tended to force any heat out of his mind. Soccer plays from the last decade.. cute pugs..  maybe if he thought of recent disasters..

But it was no good. She kept fighting her way back in. She was the fucking plague. Her piercing gaze. Her soft lips, her figure that slipped perfectly into his arms when she sat on him. A jigsaw piece to fit perfectly into him.

Of course, he had a jigsaw piece he so wanted to fit into her.

So badly.

He should be ashamed. He is completely off-task. Some Malfoy he is. But he just doesn’t fucking care. She’s what he wants to do, his new mission. Maybe, perhaps, just possibly : he was in love with her. Perhaps the stalking and the loathing had been some sort of cover for his actual feelings. And now, he felt dizzy, hot - 

“Hush.” She finally said, presumably inching closer to him. “Let me.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself (hopefully, very, very hopefully) for the sound of the girl in front of him getting on her knees in front of him, or perhaps the feeling of her body heat against him. Hey, maybe she’d even take some mercy on him and move into his lap, writhe against what longed to be touched, kiss him while he still had the blindfold on, bite his lip and tug at his hair in the animalistic manner he so desired. 

Or at least, he expected to hear the clatter of his stupid belt buckle as she undid it.

But that isn’t what happened at all.

Instead, he felt her hands delicately reach around his head and untie the blindfold which was tight round his face. He kept his eyes shut, bracing himself for the sunlight probably flashing into the room, as well as what the girl in front him was likely wearing.

I wonder.. 

He normally would have gone ahead and been more snarky. Would have asked her what she was wearing before he even came close to taking a glimpse. But no. 

Today, he was too desperate.

He opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of Y/N grinning down at him, hair slightly messy while she wore a very appealing.. little, black dress.

Oh, how his dreams were all coming true.

He let his eyes trail down her figure… she hadn’t left a lot for him to imagine for himself, oh thank you, Jesus. God knew what she had on underneath it. Maybe, just maybe, she had a matching pair of lingerie. Maybe he would tease her, just a little bit. Give her a little smug ‘All for me?’ or something along those lines.

The ties on his limbs were far too restrictive for him to peel it off of her himself.. but it would be quite fun to watch her stri- 

“So you were thinking about me, Draco? In your dreams, I mean?” She started again and his eyes darted to her face. She lifted her hand slightly and Draco almost drew back in fear at what he saw.

A knife gleamed in her fist. 

He stared up at her, incredibly afraid. Was this the sort of thing she was really into? If so.. even Draco had his limits.

She began to laugh again, wrinkling her nose adorably. “Settle down.. I’m not going to use this on you. Not unless you force me to, darling.” 

Draco could only really ponder over what the hell she meant by that. He could soon feel the aching between his legs basically shrinking as he kept his eyes on the knife.

“So.. I didn’t know you were into BDSM.” “I’m not! And.. what do you mean by that..? You must be into this.. Right?” 

“I’d think you should’ve been a little bit more scared about this if you aren’t into it. Pretty out of context otherwise, you know.” She squinted down at him.

“But um.. last night? Didn’t we-?” “No, Draco. You passed out while we were talking..and, so I took it upon myself to.. you know.”

Draco found himself dumbfounded. So.. it really was a dream. It was frankly, far too vivid-

“So, I was right. You actually are into me and everything.”

“If you want to put it so bluntly, yes, I suppose I am.”

“So.. that’s why you were stalking me and everything? Wanted a piece of me all along, did you?” “What? No!” 

“Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb with me. Did you want revenge or something?”

“What the- No! What are you even talking about?”

“I’m not that stupid, Draco. Tell me why you were after me.”

“What the fuck? How do y- I don’t know!”

“Oh come on, so you.. wanted to rape me or something? As revenge?”

“No! No! Of course not! What are you even talking about? Do you think it was me who drugged you? Because it wasn’t!” 

“I know.. but.. stop that!” She crossed her arms, taking care to hold the knife out a little more.

“Stop what..?” His voice grew shaky with anxiety.

“Stop lying to me, Malfoy! I know you know everything.”

“I don’t! How do you.. How do you even know my last name? I know for a fact I never told you what it was.”

“The little bit of research I did was enough for me to find out about your parents. ’Draco’ is not a common name, like, at all. It’s quite funny, actually. Why would anyone name their child ‘dragon’?”

“It’s a reference to the constellation! In my mum’s famil-”

“Do you really think I care?” She huffed, glaring at him even more. “Even at the hospital, I saw.. those syringes in your jacket. Tell me what those were about. Are you some sort of addict?”

“Just.. let me out of this so I can explain myself.” “I would never. You’ll do it now or I’ll take a leaf out my.. my father’s book and make sure you never see the light of day again.”

“A-alright..” He looked nervously at the knife and then back at her face, gulping audibly. “So what do you want from me?”

“The truth”, She knelt, looking him in the eye.

“So-so.. I.. I might have just.. kindofplannedonmurderingyou.” He looked to the side, focusing on a very interesting patch of the wall.

“What?”

“I might have planned on.. murdering you. But.. I swear.. after that night at the hospital, I knew I could never.”

She exhaled loudly. “I knew it! I knew you had some sort of ulterior motive.. so it is because you wanted revenge? Or because you needed to get those drugs of yours?”

“No! You have it all wr-” He exclaimed but fell silent as that devilish look in her eyes grew again.

She stepped closer to him and held the knife dangerously close to his face. Her eyes were scarily wide and she grit her teeth. Draco felt goosebumps rising all over his skin and sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He definitely didn’t look as put together as he did when he set out for work the night before.

“I swear to god. Do not make me use this on you already.”. She took a deep breath. “All this time you’ve confused the hell out of me. I was trying to figure out how to get you to my place at first. You aren’t exactly easy to carry.. so I flirted with you a little, then made you come over to mine, which you did way too happily, by the way. So, I decided to slip you a date rape drug and see how you’d like it!”

“Why would you do that? Didn’t you-” “Again, because I knew you wanted revenge! And now that I know you know about me.. I can’t possibly let you out of here alive, now can I?”

Draco fell silent again, knowing his time was very much over. He was going to have to confess and then .. face the consequences. Was there anything he could do at this point? She was absolutely going to end all of this. Suddenly, everything flashed before his eyes.

His parents, still in prison, learning about him going missing. Wouldn’t they be devastated? All his old friends, wouldn’t they feel awful about leaving him all by himself once he lost fortune?  Even fucking Weasley! He bet that tosser would cry about it. Or maybe not. Hard to tell. 

“I d-didn’t want revenge. I don’t know why I would. It’s true that I tried to learn more about you..and I might have attempted to stalk you. But it didn’t work out very well. Obviously. I was genuinely just cu-curious about murder. I swear. I did-”

“How can you be curious about murder?”

“I know.. I seriously wasn’t thinking. I was basically quite interested with this one serial killer. You might have heard of him.. um.. Richard Hoyt.” 

She rolled her eyes and looked at him sternly. “Now you’re seriously just mocking me.”

“No.. I… what do you even mean?”

“You know.” “I don’t! I’ve told you so many times, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He is.. well, was my father. I have no control over it, so I really don’t appreciate your teasing.”

What..? Now, she had to be joking. 

He forced out a nervous laugh but Y/N merely squinted back at him, and so he stopped. 

“That can’t be true, can it?”

“And why not?”

“Your surname isn’t.. Hoyt. And you look nothing like him.” He certainly wasn’t as beguiling. “Well, obviously I wouldn’t keep my serial killer father’s name, would I? It’s my mum’s. She had to change it after he was convicted. And, that’s just pure genetic luck, really.”

“So your mum and.. him. Seriously.”

Draco had no idea what to say and just stared up at her in silence. This was way too much information for him to process at once. How was he supposed to devise a plot for himself to escape? It certainly was game over for him.. but maybe.. just maybe.. If he could buy himself some time.

“So.. you’re going to kill me?”

“As far as I can see, yes, I am.” “But you can’t.”

“And why is that?” “I-I have a family. And… friends. And a job. They’ll all know I went missing.”

“You aren’t close to any loved ones, I know that. As for your job.. I doubt they care much about cashiers who stop showing up.”

Shit.

“I… I can’t die like this, Y/N, please.”

“What do you mean?”

“I.. can’t die like this. I.. wanted more from life. I wanted to finish my Chemistry degree. Get married. Have a family.” “Oh please.. Don’t give me that mushy stuff. You came very close to killing me. Or at least to attempting to kill me. None of that came back to you then?”

Fuck. 

“You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did.”

She actually looked nervous at that. Maybe.. he did have a chance.

“If.. you let me go now, I won’t tell anybody anything. I swear. We can just pretend this never happened.” “Oh, please. I.. I’m not that simple.” “Come on, Y/N, please. Have you actually ever done this before?”

“No.”

“Then.. then.. just.. don’t.. not tied up like this. At least give me that.”

“How.. can I?”

“Just.. just.. untie my arms. Please.”

He coaxed himself to grow a bit teary. The images of his own mother growing sad at his demise helped a lot. To his surprise (which he did his best to conceal), Y/N’s expression softened. Considerably. Maybe, to some very slight extent, Y/N returned his feelings. But of course, that didn’t matter at the moment. Not when she was ready to kill him. 

“O-okay. But you can’t try anything.” 

She leaned over slightly and set her hands on right wrist, slowly untying the material around it. Draco’s eyes lay on her and he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Was she really going to kill him? Or at least, would she try to? For now, maybe he should treasure these last few moments. He’d never felt this intensely about anything, it seemed. Even if he did make it out alive, would he be able to just.. accept everything? How.. she had tried to kill him?

Her fingertips brushed against his skin as she went along, and Draco relished every little touch. She removed the ties around both his wrists and Draco lifted his forearms up slightly, then smiled at her. Somehow, she smiled back at him. He set his palms on her cheeks and she didn’t shift away. If only he could just.. 

“My.. my elbows too, please?”

“I..okay.” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft.

She undid those ties as well and Draco lifted his arms up for the first time in many hours. He still sort of wanted to gather her up in them and pull her onto his lap.. But no. He needed to get out. 

“T-tell me.. “ “What?” “Tell me everything. I.. at least deserve that. If I don’t have much more to live for..” Draco crosses his arms, but only in a ruse to scope out how much more material he had to get rid of before he could wriggle free and run.

“Fine.. I guess I should. I didn’t think anything of you at first. By the Tesco and everything. I just thought you were some prick. But.. I saw you that night. At Cormac’s building. I genuinely couldn’t understand why you were even watching me at all. At first, I chalked it up to mere coincidence.. but.. then.. The next day. With the dog. 

“Was it even yours? I was so confused. Did you really think you could outsmart me with.. some cap and sunglasses? You truly are infuriating. I thought it was perhaps.. a relative or something at first. But you still looked too much like you and a bit of your hair poked out the back, so I knew it was definitely you. I can’t believe you acted like that. I still have no idea why you would have done that. That’s why I decided to look up your stupid name and left that stupid envelope in your mailbox.

“Then.. I saw that you were viewing my Instagram stories. That was when it started driving me up the wall. Did you think I couldn’t see or something? Your username isn’t exactly subtle, you know. I figured you were tracking my movements.. So I laid out a little trap. And you fell right into it. Came right to the pub and everything, all by yourself. You really are one hell of an amateur..

“Then, I had to go ahead and make that dumb mistake. I put the pill in your drink and took a sip from it myself. I can’t believe I was that daft.. “

“That was you?! You.. you did that to yourself? You meant that for me?”

“Shut up. Don’t you dare interrupt me.” Her voice was oddly shaky, and it had been growing shakier every second she had spoken.

But she didn’t even continue. She put the knife down, covered her face with her hands and began to shake slightly. Although he felt so very bad, like he just wanted to hold her, console her, never let her go.. This was the perfect time for an exit.

And so, he undid all the ties, anywhere he could find them, around his neck, around his chest, up and down his legs, everywhere. He kicked them all off and stood up, as softly as possible. And then … he froze. She was crying. He could hear it. Sniffles and everything.

He couldn’t leave. Not like this.

He took a deep breath and walked over to her, then turned her around. Her cheeks were wet and her eyes slightly pink near the rims. She looked up at him with her eyes wide. “Draco..? How did you-”

He couldn’t possibly let her continue, so he shut her up. With a kiss. He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers, just like he had in that stupid dream. 

Fuck. Her lips felt better than he ever imagined them to be. Soft and everything he could ever wish for. Actually returning his kiss. He tilted his head and brought their faces even closer, letting his tongue swipe at her bottom lip before she opened her mouth slightly and let him in. 

Oh, how badly he wanted to lose himself in the kiss. To just forget everything. To keep tasting the spearmint toothpaste the girl had used. To stay this close. To let his hands roam over her body. To finally see what was under that gorgeous dress. 

But no. Of course not. The universe wasn’t going to let him do that.

And so, he brought a hand to her neck and felt around until he found her jugular. And he did what he had to do. He pressed down on it. 

It was the perfect way to knock someone out. To be careful and just.. find their pulse point. And it worked just the way he wanted it to. She almost fell onto him, but he caught her. And he looked her over. Her adorable sleeping face. Just like in the hospital. 

For the last time. 

He set her down on the floor carefully, crossing her legs so no one could chance a peek. (Not even him! He was ready to wait. Perhaps this wasn’t the right time to think of something like that..) He even ran his hand through her hair so it looked a little more tame. He allowed himself one final glance at her lips.. 

But then, he knew what he had to do and he forced himself out of the room.

It wasn’t long before he found his way out and ran as fast as he could do to the nearest bus stop. But… he didn’t know what he was running from. Her, or whatever he could have had with her. 

Too late. 

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Get To Know You Better Part 28

Summary: Gabrielle has a nine-year-old son who is a huge Captain America fan. He notices one of the actors on the subway and loudly points it out to her. That’s when Gabrielle realizes that actor was the man she had a one-night-stand with the week before.

Chapter Summary: Gabrielle’s hopes for keeping her son safe are dashed. 

Warnings: Violence, homophobic slur

           Sophomore year arrived for James and he had been dating Gabriel for most of the summer. It wasn’t a big secret either; they were trying to be upfront about who they were. But that didn’t come without consequences. I just hoped I could get him through high school without something bad happening.

           But that was ruined.

============

           One day in October, James returned home from school bloodied and with his eye blacked.

           I was in such a state of shock I nearly fell over. “James!” I gasped and rushed over to him. “What happened?”

           He hunched over and shook his head.

           “James, please, you need to tell me what’s going on.” I plead. “Should I bring you to the hospital?”

           “No, mom, I’m okay. I fell.” He muttered and limped over to the couch.

           “Bullshit.” I ran to get a wet towel and an ice pack. “You can’t keep this from me, who did this to you?” I demanded as I started to clean up the blood from his face.

           He winced when I brushed past the bruising around his eye. “I’m fine.” He kept repeating.

           “Put this on your eye.” I gave him the ice. “I need to call Sebastian.” I stood up and went into my bedroom to get my phone. My hands were shaking so badly as I called my husband.

           “Hey, babe.”

           “James just came home all bloody an-and he won’t tell me what happened. His eye is black and I think his nose is broken.” I sobbed.

           “What? Gabby, slow down. Is he okay?”

           “No!” I cried. “I don’t know what to do!”

           “Sh, take a deep breath. I’m a few hours away from home; I’ll be there as soon as possible. Help him and if he needs to go to the hospital, call me again and I’ll meet you there.”

=============

           When Sebastian returned home that night, James was still recovering from his injuries. But he wasn’t telling me anything.

           I knew someone had purposefully done this. I just wanted to know who and where they were. His eye was black, bruising covered the right side of his face, his nose was broken, his stomach was bruised, and his hands were all scraped up.

           Sebastian knelt down in front of our son. “James, buddy, you need to tell me what happened. Whatever it was, we’ll handle it. I know you’re scared but you’re safe now. Mom and dad are going to protect you.”

           James was trembling as he held an ice pack to his abdomen. “Five guys…they just jumped me when I was walking home. I-I thought they were my friends.” His voice shook violently. “They kept calling me…” His voice cracked and he shook his head. Tears were in his eyes but it seemed like he was trying to hold them back.

           “What did they call you?”

           “Fag…” He whispered the word like it was physically painful to do so.

           Sebastian’s jaw tightened and he stood up. I could practically see the anger coursing through his veins. I didn’t blame him.

           “James, why don’t you go to your room and rest a little. Don’t worry about school tomorrow, we’re going to take care of this.” I tried to stay calm and restrained.

           He looked at Sebastian than me but didn’t seem to have the strength to speak. He stood up and limped to his room.

           Sebastian began to pace in the living room. “I want those punks expelled and I want them prosecuted.” His voice was like thunder as he steadily got more and more upset. “I swear to God if nothing happens I’ll take care of them myself.”

           I wanted to agree with him but I didn’t want him to get in trouble too. “We’ll talk to the principal tomorrow and call the police.” I couldn’t stop crying and I could hardly stand anymore. “Oh God, I thought we could protect him.”

           He walked over to me and held me close. “We will…it’s going to be okay.”

           I let him hold me, my knees giving out. “They’re monsters…how could they do that to him?”

==========

           The next morning, we took action. I called the police to make a report and scheduled to bring James down to show a detective his injuries. Sebastian called the school to meet with the principle.

           There was a knock on the door and I found Gabriel waiting anxiously. “James texted me, is he okay?”

           I let him inside. “He’s going to be okay,” I assured his boyfriend softly. “You can go see him, I’m sure he’ll want the company.”

           “I should’ve been there for him. He shouldn’t have had to face that alone.”

           “It’s okay, Gabe.” I rubbed his arm comfortingly.

           “I’m so scared, Mrs. Stan. I thought things were going to be okay.”

           “Don’t be scared.” I hugged him gently. “Mr. Stan and I are going to make sure this never happens again.”

==========

           Sebastian was livid. He couldn’t even sit down so he resorted to pacing around the principal’s office. I tried being the voice of reason but it was hard not to blow up too.

           “What I want to know is how this school can allow kids to feel scared? I’ve already called the police and I will not stop until those kids are expelled.” Sebastian threatened.

           “I understand your anger and I’m assuring you that we’re going to look into it and take the necessary actions.” The principle replied steadily.

           “That’s not good enough,” I said.

           “That’s not even close to being good enough.”

           Mr. Bishop sighed. “They’re suspended for the meantime. We’ll work with the police and go from there. If you’re pressing charges then they’ll take care of most of it.”

           Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now how are you going to make sure my son feels safe at this school? His boyfriend too? We’re not in the 1950’s we need to make an example out of these kids so the rest of the school knows you won’t tolerate it!”

           “Sebastian.” I held out a hand and guided him back to the chair next to me. “You can understand how angry we are,” I said in a softer voice.

           “Of course, Mrs. Stan, I understand completely.” Mr. Bishop replied with genuine sympathy. “I promise I’ll do everything to make sure the boys feel safe again.

           “He’s fifteen, I shouldn’t have to pick him up from school to make sure he’s not jumped.” I swallowed my tears. “But if that’s what I have to do, I will. It’s not right.”

           Sebastian grabbed a tissue for me. “We’ll work with the school to make sure this is resolved, but the school needs to cooperate with us and the police.” He said, anger still lacing his voice.

           “We’ll do everything we can.”

===========

           When we returned home, I went to check on James while Sebastian went to find Stela to bring her to daycare.

           I nudged open the door and found three sleeping figures in his bed.

           “Gabby, where is Stela?”

           “She’s with James.” I motioned for him to be quiet.

           Stela was curled up in James’s arms; Gabriel was asleep beside him, an arm tossed over his waist to keep him close.

           “Can you call daycare to tell her she’s staying home?” I whispered. I realized the whole family needed to stay in for the day and cope.

=========

           Later in the day, I was making lunch. Stela and Gabriel were both visibly shaken. My daughter had no idea what was going on but the injuries on her older brother’s face scared her. But James hadn’t seemed to grasp the severity of the situation.

           I set a plate in front of him and kissed his forehead, making sure I didn’t brush up against any bruises.

           Sebastian walked into the kitchen, sticking his phone in his pocket. “The police have all of them in custody. James, you need to come with me to the station. They need you to identify them."

           “I know who they were, I know their names,” James mumbled as he started to eat. He winced from the pain in his jaw.

           “I know, bud, they just need to make sure.” Sebastian rested a hand on his shoulder.

           James gritted his teeth. “I’m not afraid of them.” He muttered.

           “James…” Gabriel touched his arm.

           “Jesus Christ, I’m fine!” He snapped and shook all of us off of him. “I’m not dying, I just got a fucking black eye.”

           “Hey, don’t swear in front of your sister.” I scolded. “We know you’re upset, we’re all angry too.”

           “I’m not angry. I don’t care and I’m not afraid of them.” He insisted.

           “We know you’re not, and you’re not going to have to worry about them. Your mom and I are going to make sure they won’t come back to school.” Sebastian said quietly.

           “Can you stop treating me like I’m still nine?” James demanded and stood up, his chair nearly falling over. “I don’t care about any of this.” He said and retreated to his room.

           Stela was rattled by the ordeal and clung to Sebastian. “Daddy…”

           “It’s okay, îngeraș.” He picked her up. “Let’s go watch TV for a bit, we can take your lunch.” He took her plate into the living-room, leaving Gabriel and me alone in the kitchen.

           “Can I ask a question, Mrs. Stan?” He asked quietly.

           “Of course, sweetheart.” I took a steady breath. My world wasn’t falling apart, we just needed to stick together as a family.

           “James seems to always push things away, things he doesn’t want to think about. I mean…you’re married so you know how relationships work. This is my first relationship so I guess I just wanted to know if there’s anything I can do.”

           I sighed and sat down across from him at the table. “You can’t change the person you care about. You can’t change anyone for that matter. You can only try to support them as best you can. James pushes a lot away, you’re right. Maybe he learned that from me, I don’t know. It’s not easy getting someone to open up about something so painful. It’s a delicate process. We all have our flaws and as long as we’re aware of them, it makes life easier.” I smiled weakly. “Sorry, I’m not great at life advice.”

           Gabriel nodded. “No, that helps.” He said. “I just wish I could take away his pain.”

           “I know. I do too. That’s what happens when you love someone, you can’t stand to see them hurt.”

//My Grammarly is being dumb so I couldn’t really edit this like I usually do. I’m going to try and find a different editing app

Tag list: @jazzwoman897 @gurveersidhuu @kimmiestrawberrykiwi @take-my-life-not-my-heart @kimberlydyan @darkrose97 @spideyhoecoming @jennabenna12 @musicalburrage

Masterpost

[spamzineglasgow]

SPAM Festive Special: tom leonard, 1944 – 2018, i.m.

In this special piece to move us towards the close of the year, Rhian Williams remembers the Glaswegian poet, writer and critic Tom Leonard, who passed away on the 21st December 2018. 

       lower case posits in-the-presence-of        lower case is presence        lower case is company[1]

> my friend, jane, records how, when leading seminars in modern poetry, tom leonard would ‘light a candle at the start in recognition of “the universal human as inclusive and absolute”’.[2] it is that flame – its quality of intensity and of fade, the darkness around the wick, the gold that haloes it, the soft white at its very edges; a trinity of light – that i think of, and that i write by, now, this day in december, as i remember this man of letters.

light, dense, warm, yellow. light, thin, white, attenuated. light, time, presence.

> it was a still, muffled day in december last year, as i was shopping for groceries, in the shop where tom shopped for groceries, when i checked my phone, and read an email from another friend, nicky, who let me know that tom had died the day before. the shortest day of the year. which had not been one of those when the light is bright and intense – the glorious winter sunshine – but one when a lead-like, restrained, grey light had leaked only blankly in the air. a quiet day. a brief interlude, a space between darknesses.  so tom had moved with it, solsequium,[3] a burnished ‘pot marigold’, a mothering light turning with the sun into the darkest space of the year – the edges of a diurnal pausing, according to shetland tradition, when one should set down one’s work for the holiest day, anticipating the miracles and translations of the holy labour, of the returning sun.

       stepping into that space        out of the past        surrounding        this place, become        an accompanying darkness;[4]

leonard’s work – radical, political, fiercely intelligent, sharply, sharply engaged by (and always advancing of) the ideological work of language, of its plasticity, of arrangement on the page ­(‘poetry is the subliminal history of linguistic shape | ahem’)[5] – was profoundly welded into presence. the ‘being here-ness’ of human experience: the light in which it stands (‘seductive bright light | of the evening narrative’)[6] and the breath – the spiritus – that marks its paces (‘poetry is the heart and brain divided by the lungs’).[7] his work was experimental in the most serious way, and i see its legacies in scottish poetry today, its sidelong glances at language, at its mendacities, the tell tales of public life. but also its vitality, its telling of stories, its bloodflow. (tom, a true intellectual, but never bloodless.) leonard’s legacy is clear and important: it is evident in a generation of poets (jenny lindsay, nick-e melville, iain morrison, kathrine sowerby, harry josephine giles, as well as jane goldman, come to mind) who regard poetry and poetics as actions, as interventions, as means of revelation.

> at this time of year – at the marking of the winter solstice, the miraculously burning oil in the temple, and the birthing of a messiah – i find myself thinking about the domestic space ­– the hearth – that fuels that birthing (‘the sacred heart | above the winterdykes | set roon the fire’).[8] of the shifts around presence, being, light and time that i see in leonard’s body of work as comparable to parenting through reciprocity (‘i wish you would touch me more | it makes me feel happy | and secure’).[9] of the vestal work of home-making that i find infusing leonard’s writing: what we might call radical mothering, where mothering is a verb for attentive nurture, for the act of nourishing, for advocacy, for the defence and advance of storytelling. labours which may be (and are) taken up by carers regardless of gender and whose object need not be a child as such. i am talking specifically about the passion contained when leonard remembers his shame at his father’s vocalising during private reading and is encouraged by an audience member to find the use of phonetic urban dialect, ‘rather constrictive’: ‘The poetry reading is over | I will go home to my children’.[10] i am talking about his remarkable feel for the rhythms of daily domestic duty, peeling spuds, going on messages, controlling one’s breath as one walks to the shops. over and again, leonard’s poems mark the habits of a particular class of daily life, intimating the textures and fabric of a life of cooking, laundry, ‘sitting in the garden | behind the toolshed | reading Thomas Mann’,[11] listening to the wireless. fiercely attentive, and alive. now, of course, leonard’s poetics were exquisitely sophisticated – i’m not even remotely saying that his work is ever uncomplicated reportage of private domesticity – but it didn’t surprise me to learn from his sons at his funeral of tom’s presence in the home, of his habit of taking a breather in the day to listen to radio 3, sat on the sofa with tea and a biscuit. or to be gifted his recipe for lentil soup.

       the roar of a lawnmower        pause        the roar of a lawnmower        pause        the roar of a lawnmower[12]

for what i learn from leonard’s poems, and from leonard’s writing about poems and poetry (verse, from vers – to turn – as in ploughing a field, or mowing a lawn), is that there is a selfhood in poetry that is its animus, its means, its occasion, and its strength of expression. that poems come about from there being a story to be told (‘I was really relaxed talking to the young man I know the story of this place | I grew up in it I have eyes and ears’),[13] and the process of that telling may be quite unselfconscious as it drives towards enunciation, or even be ‘mechanical’ in the sense of algorithmic experimentation. but that self – or ‘a’ self – then becomes conscious as it manifests. that the lyric self – by which i mean the sign of presence in poetry – is not absorbed utterly by private experience, but rather it enters the rhythm of the poem and its shape on the page (all poems have rhythm as all living things breathe, and everything takes shape), and thereby intersects with time, with history, and with material records (‘in our own being | but never wholly separate, only a part | of the time we live in, and with others occupy’).[14] it comes into the world (is birthed?) and so it becomes an agential position: the expressive, poetic subject is an action, a vortex, a meeting point.

       But then he began to accept that he was a writer.        It was a matter of language and consciousness. The link between the                                                                                                               two.[15]

even as this process hints at abstraction (‘as he grew older he stood in separate relationship to himself’), it is actually a return to the flesh, in leonard’s beautiful, active verb: ‘he was able to body himself conceptually as a totality’.[16] … so i learn from leonard that poems are things that are done with and for bodies (‘Gin a body meet a body’),[17] and are caught in the dialectic of giving and of standing back, like mothering.

> jane also told me that tom loved the work of psychoanalyst, donald winnicott – i hadn’t remembered that consciously; it was just a feeling of correlation i had when reading leonard’s work and when reading winnicott’s work on physical touch and play, on the parenting labour that is simply, exhaustingly, that of helping our children to find their own pace and breath. but today my copy of leonard’s Reports from the Present: Selected Work, 1982-94 actually falls open here:

Breath, breath, breath, breath, breath. If only Winnicott had gone further with that aside about the baby’s first perception of breath, median between inner and outer, its role as the point at which the defences are down. Maybe he did, I just haven’t seen it. So much of his stuff is great, so exciting to read. All that stuff about the sucking-blankets (his ‘guggie’, mine used to call it) ‘transitional objects’ and their elation to culture, the first experience of symbols in time. That ‘potential space’ where play occurs … ‘It is play that is the universal, and that belongs to health.’ Good on you, Mr Winnicott. A very healthy man.[18]

in Winnicott, in leonard, in breath (that which brings together time with flesh), and in play, then, we find the scene of reciprocity:

        this time         breath

        held         between us

        each time         familiar

        each time         new[19]

so often violated – as leonard’s work distils in startling realisation – by institutionalised aggression and belittling, by militarism, by capitalist ideation (‘jesus christ that cunt was a cop!’),[20] in leonard’s poetics, reciprocity is staged through timely proximity, and is a route towards settling into the ‘now’. ‘we lightly hold hands as we sometimes do | until the first to be falling asleep begins to twitch and tonight it’s Sonya’:

        I am aged 51 years and nine months and nine to ten days[21]

reading of one of the longest days of the year from the dim of one of the shortest, i find the milky light of glasgow at 3am in june (‘the sky in the north is translucent like a lake’) illuminating the ‘now’ as a quiet scene of resistance, outwitting interpellation; an experience of the self, of the body, and of time that has evaded capitalist value. ‘from within he came to realise himself as an instance of the universal human’.[22]

> the calendar turns, light thins out and attenuates, darkness creeps (‘The three wise kings, who have travelled | All the way from Burns & Oates in Buchanan Street, | Peer at the infant under a torch-bulb’),[23] but rhythms and habits persist:

       the future, knitting the future        the present peaceful, quiet        as if

       the same woman knitting        for a thousand years

tom, i miss your voice, i miss your wisdom, i miss your knowledge. i miss your compassion, i miss your understanding. your not here-ness is painful.

> and the world keeps turning, the sun keeps rising. the marigold blooms.

                                                                               glasgow, 16 december 2019

~

Text and Image: Rhian Williams

Published: 23/12/19

[1] Tom Leonard, ‘the case for lower case’, Outside the Narrative (Exbourne & Edinburgh: etruscan books & Word Power Books, 2009), p. 178.

[2] See Jane Goldman’s contribution in Tributes to Tom Leonard, ed. Larry Butler (Glasgow, PlaySpace Publications: 2019).

[3] ‘To follow the sun’ and the term for the marigold in Middle English. It is used in a conceit by Ayrshire poet, Alexander Montgomerie (1550-1598) that is used as an epigram to Leonard’s ‘The Present Tense: a semi-epistolary romance’, Outside, p.110.

[4] ‘respite in the reading’, Outside, p. 107.

[5] ‘100 Differences Between Poetry and Prose’, Outside, p. 63.

[6] ‘Plasma Nights’, Outside, p. 196.

[7] ‘100 Differences Between Poetry and Prose’, Outside, p. 63.

[8] ‘An Ayrshire Mother’, Outside, p. 209.

[9] ‘Nora’s Place (14)’, Outside, p. 156

[10] ‘Fathers and Sons’, Outside, p. 54

[11] ‘Pollok Poster 1’, Outside, p. 13

[12] ibid.

[13] ‘The Fair Cop’, Outside, p. 189

[14] ‘proem’, Outside, p. 65

[15] ‘A life’, Outside, p. 214.

[16] ibid.

[17] Robert Burns, ‘Comin thro’ the Rye’

[18] ‘The Present Tense’, Outside, p. 113.

[19] ‘touching your face’, Outside, p. 182.

[20] ‘The Fair Cop’, Outside, p. 189.

[21] ‘June the Second’, Outside, p. 181.

[22] ‘Three Types of Envoi: A humanist (2)’, Outside, p. 213.

[23] ‘My Parents’ Living-Room at Christmas’, Outside, p. 53.

[seekthemist]

Pynch Fic Rec - G&T Rated

HELLO FANDOM! A couple of days ago I was asked to provide a Pynch fic rec. What follows is me being a PhD student at heart (more than I would like to) and  surveying my Ao3 History to find every fic I’ve ever read while connected to my account *coff-literaturereview-coff*. The fics I’m listing here, in strict alphabetical order, are stuff that I read between June ‘16 and now. I tried to restrain myself to putting WIPs or too many brutally famous fics. As such, it is obviously incomplete (there are fics I really love or I have in my To Read bucket that are missing) but I hope it will dust off some of the amazing creative content we have in the fandom <3

For each and every one of the listing, I put the author and their tumblr (if someone can point me to the missing ones, I’ll be grateful). I encourage everyone to go into their personal page and check other stuff they wrote. Each and every one of them is excellent!

And now...enjoy :DDD (+ over here for the M&E rated)

A Dreamer's Thighs by @nhasablog

Rating: G, Featuring: Tickling, for God's sake! A lot of sexual tension as well.

Personally: This his short, silly and adorable, because we can't always be serious. On a separate note, I would die to have an vaguely filthy extension of this ficlet because trust me, it's asking for it.

A movie script ending by adamganseys ( @lorelaiglmore )

Rating: T, Featuring: AU where Adam works in a cinema and his just about as exhausted as usual. Cue Ronan and Gansey coming for a show and Ronan's shoulder being there just at the right time to start a pining sequence.

Personally: Another one of the fics I fished out and immediately went like "oh no, OMG, I remember this one, it was amazing!" Highly recommended for good AU construction and amazing build-up.

Awake and unreal by Usedtoromanticize ( @admlynch )

Rating: T, Featuring: Heart-shattering approach to soul marks, clueless boys, a canon modification that entwines with book events.

Personally: I found this fic through another person rec I think, and it was one the best choice of read I've ever made, the AU is rooted in the childhood of our beloved boys and I can't get enough of it, NEVER.

Breathe you in every single day by pendules ( @indierockharry )

Rating: T, Featuring: Adam obsesses over Ronan touching him and tries to figure out how this whole physical contact stuff works.

Personally: My jam, absolutely. Very soft and exploratory in a way I absolutely appreciate, and worthy every awwww. ❤

Dizzy drunken dream by ionlyloveyouironically ( @1980sghostboy )

Rating: T, Featuring: Adam is sick, Gansey is clueless, Ronan and Henry are adorable in dealing with it.

Personally: Made of the stuff of the awwww, Adam's stubbornness is spot on.

Had to start it somewhere by memorde ( @memordes )

Rating: T, Featuring: Ronan gets insistent and unbelievable in his grocery shopping when he zeros on the cashier, Adam.

Personally: this fic is short, lovely and absolutely hilarious, the type of cheesy trope AU we all need in our rainy days.

Like Storms by ggrantaire ( @helengansey)

Rating: T, Featuring: College-AU, the gang getting together at a totally different moment, Adam is selectively mute, Noah is still a ghost and feels are too much to handle. (((WIP)))

Personally: everyone and their sisters recommended this fic, I think but I will second it nonetheless because it's really good, with that vague diffuse softwarm feeling of things that can work out well and with a very original approach to not-usually-featured issues.

Sizzling Like Your Stare by coffeehanjan ( @nottrising )

Rating: T, Featuring: AU were Adam works at Nino's, Ronan has the biggest crush ever and the result is endearing even though a normal person (like Blue) will suspect stalking.

Personally: This! Fic! Jesus! Christ! It's so cute I cannot even, the best trope ever with the best execution. A+++ 11/10 would rec again. ❤

Sleep deprivation by ronanlynchisneversleepingagain ( @iamneversleepingagain )

Rating: T, Featuring: Adam runs a study on sleep deprivation and our favourite hooligan is there to do what he usually does.

Personally: I would read a long fic with several thousands words for this thing, I'm reccing it because the world needs to share my obsession.

Tears and vines by adamganseys ( @lorelaiglmore )

Rating: T, Featuring: Right after Robert Parrish's trial, emotional turmoil, softness and fluffness at St. Agnes, loads of comforting cuddles.

Personally: *squeezes this fic hard* so fluffly, so adorable, so heartfelt, the dialogues are amazing and there is some soothing of The Utter Pain that we all needed.

The place you sleep by asael ( @mistrusts​ )

Rating: T, Featuring: The Pynch relationship as a progression of napping moments, so cute, so fluffy, so tender.

Personally: There are few trends I ADORE more than Pynch+Sleeping, this was the perfect Secret Santa hanging around and I loved it.

You live like this? by ronanlynchisneversleepingagain ( @iamneversleepingagain​ )

Rating: T, Featuring: that infamous tumblr post with the burglar trying to rob an overly-poor person and ending up helping him instead.

Personally: hilarious, fluffy, really endearing, Ronan as modern Robin Hood is the best thing ever.

[lenucciagreco]

the loved ones

an anon sent me a prompt a hot minute ago to the effect of “Richard is a total know-it-all, but especially about Jared.” this is... sort of about that but mostly tries to answer some other questions i had about their relationship, Jared’s life offscreen and outside of the Pied Piper bubble, and also how “normal people” would feasibly treat the both of them.

that said, this is VERY MUCH lighthearted wish fulfillment, so, pretty average stuff from me LOL.

words: 3,096

content: Richard is bi and bad at communicating, a lot of Jared headcanons that probably contradict the writing, some OCs i was forced to make up to properly tell this story that also definitely contradict the writing.

He has elderly friends. He actually has elderly friends. This is fine.

Richard tries not to visibly claw at the armrest of the tiny wing chair in the corner, a thousand afghans and granny-square blankets draped over its back. He wouldn’t usually picture a house like this as belonging to people named Muriel and Eloise, but as he always has to remind himself, this is Northern California, and the tiny, dour church ladies he’s used to are few and far between.

“So, what was it you said you did again, dear?” this unsettlingly kind woman with the oxygen tank asks him, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of herbal tea. “I know Donald said something about—”   

“Richard and I met through work, Muriel,” Jared cuts in, his expression growing more tense. Maybe that’s just in his imagination. “Actually—well, I’ll embarrass him if I say this, but he inadvertently rescued me from the bad situation I was in before. At Hooli.” 

Muriel pauses, and then her face suddenly lights up: “Of course, of course. He’s told us all about you.”   

The other woman (her wife, who he’d first introduced to Muriel years ago, as Jared explained in the car) steps away from the cutting board she’s been zeroed in on for the last fifteen minutes, and leans against the kitchen island. She’s younger than Muriel—maybe in her late sixties—and hair is cropped and dyed black, almost auburn in parts, the sleeves of her denim shirt rolled to her elbows.   

“This is that Richard?” she asks, regarding him with a stiff smile—as if to show him she isn’t hostile, but not much more. His stomach turns. “Donald, you two haven't—”

Muriel reaches for her walker and stands up, unwavering in her cheeriness. “Eloise, won’t you help me pick out something from the cellar? And we should really start getting the table ready. Can you two finish with the salad?" 

“Of course,” Jared says. His face is calm again, but he can tell he’s close to yanking him from the seat by the arm, already preemptively apologizing for bringing him here. Richard stands up and smiles at him in a way he hopes is reassuring, and goes to the kitchen. 

His last date before all of this, what feels like ages before he willingly got in a car headed to a ranch in Sonoma, was also his all-time worst. It was an actual get-your-number-and-go-to-dinner type date. It was with some girl named Hannah; a freelance web designer who used to work at Hooli, too, although they’d never met before. It had been going well on the whole, until his mind jumped to the worst possible thing mid-conversation, something stupid like right, gastronomy just means the study of food and culture—my friend Jared actually knows a lot about— 

“You mean Jared Dunn? That guy always kind of gave me the creeps.” 

“What?” Richard picked at his dessert, trying to look casual. “I mean—why’s that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, “something about his demeanor always just bothered me.”   

“That’s funny,” he said, then caught himself. "Or—well, it’s not that funny, but I understand. He really is a great guy if you get to know him. It’s just that people don’t always, um…respond well to him?” 

“He seemed nice”—she repeated this word as an afterthought, free of any actual meaning—“just not very good at picking up on social cues.”   

“God, you just described everyone I know.” It was meant to be a joke, but he was the only one who laughed. He sloshed the wine in his glass, a tiny purple stain dotting his thumb. 

“And the oversharing,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Some people are okay with it, but for me it was just—it’s too much.”   

“It’s not for the attention, though,” he says, his tongue starting to feel heavy from the wine. “Not like everybody else. It’s like—he thinks he needs to give a disclaimer to everyone he meets, 'hey, I’m kinda fucked up and have a lot of trauma but I’m fine!’ Don’t get me wrong, some of the stuff he tells me, just offhand, is insane. But he’s a literal genius. Like Jesus Christ, he’s a walking encyclopedia on naval history, 19th century American poets, the DSM—” 

“You know a lot about Jared,” Hannah said, quietly.   

“Um.” Richard put his glass down. "Yeah, I guess I do.”   

He saw the waiter come down with two more drinks and, mercifully, the check.

“I’m so sorry,” Jared starts, the second they’re alone. “I didn’t tell you everything when we were in the car.”   

“It’s okay,” he says, “just—what did you tell her about me that made her hate me?”   

“Eloise doesn’t hate you. She’s just a little protective of me. Really, she’s like this with everyone I bring over.” 

“Jared.” He leans both elbows onto the counter and looks him in the eye. “What does that mean.”   

“It means,” Jared says, absurdly calm, “that she's like this with everyone I bring over, Richard. We do this dinner every year, and she always has something to say about my guests. It has nothing to do with us.”   

Richard notices the tips of his ears are red. He decides not to prod anymore, even if the answer just makes him feel worse.   

Instead he steals a sliver of cucumber off the cutting board and chews it. He feels the urge to make himself useful in the kitchen, but Jared’s stonewalling him by standing at the counter, shoulders squared, slicing the tomatoes at a worrying pace. He can’t help but think he looks just like Eloise minutes ago, right down to the posture. 

When he sees a person he cares about in pain, he mirrors them. Richard knows that. He also knows she can’t be his birth mother, because she died when he was twelve. When he told him this, at four a.m. lying face to face in a bunk bed, Richard reached out his hand and pulled it to his chest.   

This is not good. It’s fine. They’re going to be fine.   

A huge, bony cat butts his head against Richard’s ankle and slides past him. He’s counted three. It yowls up at the counter, probably well aware of the biggest pushover in the room. But Jared doesn’t fold. 

“It’s not for you, Bartleby.” He scoops it up in his arms, a heap of gray fur and flailing paws, and attempts to hand it off to Richard. “Can you take him outside? Please?”   

He can’t really say no, so he gets a good grip on the cat and heads out the screen door. When he gets outside, Eloise is standing on the patio, uncorking a bottle of wine.   

“He doesn’t let everybody hold him like that,” she says, nonplussed. As she says it, Bartleby slips out of Richard’s arms. (What an awful name.) “He’s a little anxious.”   

“Me too,” Richard says. It’s a joke, but not really.   

“So how did you meet Donald?” she asks, cutting through whatever fifteen layers of bullshit he was operating on. “Why do you call him that other name?”   

“Um.” He stops, realizing he’s never had to even really confront the issue. “When I met him, that’s what he told me his name was, and it just stuck—I mean, he’s never asked me to switch. Are you saying that I should?”  

“I don’t have any opinion on what you should do,” she says, and he physically feels himself get knocked down a peg or two realizing this is far from the first time she’s had this conversation. "I just expect you to treat Donald well. He has a knack for getting manipulated by other people who don’t actually value him.”  

“I’m not one of those people,” he says. “He’s really helped me. Through a lot of awful shit. And—he’s told me, you know, things about himself—”   

“He tells everyone his things,” Eloise says. “Anyone who’s willing to listen.”   

“Like—the real things.”   

“Like what?”   

Jared steps out onto the patio, salad bowl in his hands. “Everything’s ready. Where should I put it?” 

The first thing he did after the worst date of his life, after climbing apologetically out of a Lyft, was make a beeline to the garage. Jared was there, and awake—he almost always was at that hour, back then. He was under the cheap duvet, on his laptop, leaning against some milk crates.

“How did it go?”   

“Jared,” he said, staggering to the air mattress and kneeling at the edge. “I fucked up.”   

“Oh.” He shut his laptop and sat up straight, watching him crawl closer. Richard was sure he was trying not to touch him, not to physically engage at all, expertly restrained. Always so respectful of his boundaries, always Richard’s needs before his own. “What happened? Did something go wrong with Hannah?”   

(In hindsight, he seemed a little too eager to ask.)   

“I—just realized I need to stop fucking kidding myself,” he blurted, feeling blindly for Jared’s knee. Was he crying already? It felt like it, on his face. He was pretty loaded. “I need to stop. Stop pretending.”   

“Pretending what?”   

“That—you’re not the person. The person I want to be with.” He could barely understand himself, he was sobbing so loudly, probably sounding ridiculous. “But it’s so stupid and impossible that I have to lie to myself about it.”

“Richard,” he said, hands suddenly on his shoulders, dead calm. “You’re very drunk.”   

He saw right through him. Something about his placid denial, the insistence that nothing was wrong, enraged him in that moment. “I see you looking at me all the time. I notice everything, dude, so don’t just fucking pretend you don’t want this—”   

“Richard.”   

He tried to lean in, writing checks he can’t cash. “Please. Just tell me it’s possible.”   

In some far-off fantasy world Jared could have just dropped his scruples and they could have fucked right there, on that awful air mattress, with his head two inches from the concrete. But instead he just grabbed both his wrists and held onto them, forcing Richard to go still.   

“I do. I do want it.” He looked him square in the eye. “But I don’t really think it should happen like this. Do you?”   

It wasn't a rhetorical question. Richard pulled his hands away—he wasn’t holding on that hard—and considered his options. Then he shook his head.   

“Okay. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”   

“No.”   

He cleared his throat and put his head down, on the corner of the pillow. Because there’s some fucking good left in the world, Jared slipped his arm around his shoulder and pressed his lips to a spot beneath his eyebrow, and neither of them had to say a word. 

More people start to trickle in, some of them names Richard actually recognizes—Muriel’s daughter and tiny blonde grandchild, aunts and distant friends that seem oddly excited once they find out who he is. Jared does a lot of the talking for him, anyway, and lays it on thick (probably to apologize without ever having to say anything.) Richard’s a Stanford-educated engineer; Richard’s got a brilliant mind; you two would find a lot to talk about. But before he even scratches the surface with anybody he gets whisked off to someone else.  

Which is just as well, really. He’s never good with strangers, and as usual, Jared took steps to circumvent it, steps Richard wouldn’t even think to take. Maybe he is like every other schlubby boyfriend he’s brought over.   

Muriel rings some kind of New Age dinner bell, loud and clangy, and everyone gathers around the outdoor table. It’s beautiful, actually—the backyard stretches out for what looks like forever, a wooded path not far down the hill. Once Richard finds his seat, he glances up and suddenly sees Jared pouring him a glass of wine. 

Something about the whole image is just weird. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is: “Oh. It’s white?”   

“Red wouldn’t go with this meal,” Jared says, “technically. You’re at a table of oenophiles that would say so.” 

“Right.” He already feels a little disoriented.   

“Not a big wine drinker?” Muriel asks.   

“I like it, just—” 

“That’s quite alright. It’s meant to be enjoyed with food,” she says. “This is from our vinery. We only serve what we make to friends.”   

“And Trader Joe’s,” Eloise says.   

“And Trader Joe’s. But that’s just to keep the lights on. Should we have a toast?”

The wine goes down light and easy, perfect for an amateur like himself. Eloise, spearing a few pieces of vegan gnocchi, addresses him from the other side of the table: “What were we talking about before, Richard?” 

“Whatever it was,” Jared pipes in, “I’m sure the rest of the table wouldn’t find it very interesting.”   

Of course, everyone but the three of them are caught up in other conversations. Richard looks around for some other kind of lifeline that he knows does not exist.   

“It was about you, Donald,” she says, perfectly genteel. “Just—that you two had gotten to know each other quite well in the last few months.”   

Jared knits his brow, his voice pitching up the way it does when he’s upset: “We’ve known each other about four years.”   

“I know,” Eloise says, “but this development is recent?”   

He turns to Richard, but it seems like he’s already made up his mind by the time he looks at him. “About six weeks. I don’t know why it’s so important.”   

Even she backs off after that, but Richard can tell it’s with great restraint. “Forgive me. I was just curious. Especially after the conversations we’ve had before.”  

“Eloise, it feels—really unnecessary to bring that up,” Jared says (easily the harshest thing Richard's heard him say to someone he cares for.) “Of course I forgive you. But I—” 

“No, you’re right, this is total bullshit.” Richard pushes his wine glass away from him, a little stunned at the words coming out of him—but he feels stone-cold sober and fed up with watching this same scene play out. “Jared’s a grown adult. He can make his own decisions about who he wants to date without screening them for you.”   

“Richard,” he says, his hand suddenly clasping the top of his arm, “it’s not that. She’s talking about something I said before—” 

“It doesn’t matter what you said, like, upwards of a year ago. I was probably a massive dick to you back then.” He feels eyes on him, but keeps going anyway: “She’s just using your words against you. It’s manipulative as shit and I’m not playing along with it.”   

Suddenly the table is quiet. Muriel asks, slowly: “Is everything alright, dear?”   

Richard shakes his head, pushing his chair out and standing up. “No. Sorry, I should—I should go. Sorry, everyone.” 

He hears Jared say his name, but it’s too late. He makes a break for it into the woods.

Somehow he managed to steal the rest of the wine from the ice bucket, too. He’s already made enough of a prick of himself that he figures it can’t hurt. So there he is, wandering on someone else’s property with a bottle of Sauvignon blanc. At the bottom of the hill is a tiny river, snaking a few miles down—he finds a swing chair hanging from a tree and falls back into it, just now noticing he’s half in the bag.   

Jared’s not far behind, of course. He secretly hopes he’ll turn around and prolong this conversation for as much time as possible, but the sound of his voice, his footsteps get closer until it’s unavoidable.   

Then he’s standing behind him, hand on the back of the chair, steadying the rope. “Are you okay?” 

“Why are you asking if I’m okay? I just fucked up twenty people’s evening when I was supposed to impress them.” 

“I don’t care about impressing anyone,” Jared says. “Eloise—helped me a lot. I owed it to her, for you two to meet. That’s all.”   

“Well, she met me,” Richard says, mustering a completely inappropriate laugh. “What did you say about me before that was so bad?”   

He sits down beside him. “Just that I—talk a lot and I wasn’t sure if you listened, always. But I know that’s not true now—”   

“Of course it’s not true.” Richard turns to him. “Jared, I remember everything you tell me. Like how you’re a Pisces and prefer regular Cheerios to fucking honey nut. Like—how in the tenth grade you had to memorize 'O Captain, My Captain' and it stuck with you forever. You used to daydream about sailing away from wherever you were but you were in landlocked Pennsylvania so you didn’t even see a boat in a harbor until you were nineteen and took a bus to the Jersey shore, but you kept saying you were going to the shore because that was the only thing you heard people call it, you didn’t even know it was in New Jersey until you got there. You love children. And animals. And anyone who listens to you which means a ton of shitty people take advantage of you, or they treat you like shit because they don’t get it. 

"Your favorite book is Moby Dick because you like stories about the ocean and—I don’t know, you probably relate to the whole thing of chasing something aimlessly and having it haunt you every day of your life until it kills you, but I don’t want it to kill you, Jared, I just want you to be well-adjusted and fucking happy—”   

He stops him. “I am happy. I’m happier than ever with you. Always.” 

“I’m sorry,” Richard says. “I shouldn’t have said all that. I made a prick of myself in front of people you really wanted me to meet. And you worked so hard to try to make them like me—I fucked up whatever chance we had.”

“I don’t care what they think.” Jared reaches for his hand, looking strangely giddy about all of this. “I mean—I do, but I care more about you. About us.” 

“There’s an ‘us’ now.” He doesn’t say it out of skepticism—it’s something closer to relief. 

“Yeah.” There’s a pause as he slips his arm around his waist, a troubled expression when Richard doesn’t answer, even as he leans heavily into his side. “You do know that. Right?” 

“I know.” He stares out in front of him, at the dappled sunlight and soft grass, in this place he knows he’s no longer welcome in, and squeezes Jared’s hand. “Is it okay if we go home?” 

“Of course,” Jared says. They do not move. 

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Vital Signs, pt20

Word Count: 2078 Tags: @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @outside-the-government, @jimfromsales, @donnaintx, @enterprisewriting @starmission @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @flirtswithdanger

I expected at least a little excitement to greet me as I strode through the infirmary door. Instead, Derek and Jane were sitting at the desk sharing a National Inquirer, and Dr. Carson was nowhere to be seen.

“I was called stat?” I directed the query to the nurses. Derek looked up from the tabloid and nodded toward the curtained bay.

“That one thinks he’s super funny. Sorry, Doc. He did something to the comm and we couldn’t cancel the page.” A flash of irritation crossed his face. I sighed. Stark was days early for his physical. I should have known he wasn’t intending to come when he’d been booked.

“Stark, you better be here for your physical, or I swear to god-“ I flipped open the curtain and shrieked. He was sitting on the exam table, naked as a jaybird. I threw the chart across his lap and turned around.

“I could have sworn you were a doctor, Richmond,” he taunted me. I threw a blue paper sheet over my shoulder at him.

“Doesn’t mean I need to see your junk. Jesus, Tony.” I heard the paper crinkling and judged it safe to turn back to him. Without another word, I went to work, and made quick work of the initial assessment. Tony was filled with smart-ass remarks, trying to break my composure again, but I set my jaw and ignored him. Finally, I took a quick look at his chest.

“So tell me about this arc reactor in your chest.” I peered at it while I listened to his heart. His heart was a mess. It sounded off, just a little. Like it wasn’t quite beating properly. There were limitations to how I could assess him though. He couldn’t have an MRI because of the electromagnet and the shrapnel in his chest.

“It powers the electromagnet that keeps the shrapnel from penetrating my heart.” He was suddenly all business.

“And we can’t get the shrapnel out?” I asked. He shook his head.

“I’ve seen a few doctors now about it. They all say this is it.” It certainly explained his fatalistic approach to life.

“Have the symptoms of the palladium poisoning ceased?”

“Ages ago. No further issues. Is all that in this chart?” He pulled the folder from my hand and started flipping through it, settling into the progress notes from previous SHIELD doctors.

“You probably shouldn’t be reading-“

“Stark is a PITA with narcissistic personality disorder. I know what narcissistic personality disorder is. That’s probably a good diagnosis, actually. But what the hell is a PITA? I mean, other than a bread envelope?” He looked at me expectantly. I coughed to cover a laugh and tried not to blush.

“It’s medical shorthand,” I cringed.

“For?”

“Pain in the ass.” I bit my lip, trying desperately to hide my amusement. Tony looked at me, looked back in the chart, flipped a couple more pages, and then looked back up at me.

“This isn’t your writing. Do you agree with the diagnosis?” There was a hint of a smile in his eyes, and I grinned.

“I haven’t worked with you enough yet, Tony. But I suspect that Dr. McTavish was probably spot on the money.”

He laughed, and stood up, the blue paper sheet dropping on the floor. I spun around again to avoid seeing him in the altogether.

“No ill effects from the fall?” It was awkward and weird to continue the assessment with my back turned, but I wasn’t going to give in to his weird game.

“Nothing.” His answer was too quick. He was lying. That was interesting.

“Nightmares?” I guessed.

“You and Cap are well matched,” he avoided my question. I restrained the urge to turn and question him.

“Oh?”

“You’re both insufferable prudes.” He smacked my ass with his chart, “It should be fun to break you – I mean, work with you.” I turned around and took the chart, and then took a good long look at him. All of him. I had to hand it to him, he wasn’t shy or ashamed, and he really had no reason to be. Despite not being the oldest of the Avengers, as both Steve and Thor had him beat by decades, he was physiologically the oldest of the group. He was in pretty amazing shape. Still had a 6-pack, nicely defined pecs, excellent shoulders. It struck me that really, all the Avengers were quite delicious. I let my gaze roam as my mind wandered, trying to call Tony’s bluff. It didn’t work. He just stood there, naked, letting me stare. I picked up his pants and tossed them to him.

“Neither of us is as uptight as you’d like to think.” I turned and left the assessment bay. I was sitting at the desk writing up my notes when he left. He stopped at the desk briefly.

“There’s more to you than I initially thought. I’ll see you in the lab.” He winked at Jane as he left the infirmary.

“What’s that about?” Derek asked.

“I’m going to work with Stark on some med tech. It’s super cool.” I sat down and explained about the MRI I’d looked at and all the different ways I thought we could use it. Dr. Carson might not have been onboard, but by the time I left the infirmary, the nurses all were.

I was poring over the information Dr. Banner had given me about the Hulk with absolute fascination. His reports were really thorough and detailed, but they were only about the Hulk. There was nothing about his own medical history in them. I tried to search the SHIELD database, but hit a wall there too. Nothing on Bruce Banner, but endless reports about the Hulk. It was frustrating. I had just made a frustrated noise when Dr. Banner stepped into the infirmary.

“Physical?” He looked nervous. I jumped up.

“The first assessment bay. There’s a blue sheet on the table, strip down and cover yourself. I’ll be in as soon as I grab your chart. Did you still feel Romanoff should be here?” I pointed to the bay where I wanted him. He nodded. I quickly paged Natasha and sat back down at the desk to wait. Bruce was worried for nothing. He was the model patient. Natasha waited just beyond the curtain, but she really wasn’t necessary.

“Bruce, we don’t have any medical records on you.” I was wrapping up the assessment. He furrowed his brow.

“I sent over all my research.”

“Which is all on the Hulk. None of it is about you. There must be medical records on you somewhere, Bruce.”

“Somewhere, yeah.” It was pretty non-commital, as responses go.

“Look, Bruce, I’m not going to pretend to try to understand what your life must be like. You’ve got a Jekyll and Hyde thing going. But I’m not as interested in Hyde as I am in Jekyll, okay?” I offered. Bruce’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowed.

“How can you say that?” He demanded.

“Because you’ve given us all the data on the Hulk, Bruce. But we have nothing on you. How can SHIELD give you ongoing support if we have no idea of the baseline of health for the regular guy who is normally around?” It seemed pretty straightforward to me. Bruce shook his head.

“But it’s the other guy who is important to SHIELD.” he stated. I sighed and put down the chart. I sat down on a stool facing him.

“Okay, maybe. But Bruce Banner is pretty important to the other guy, right? So I need to know how to take care of Bruce Banner.” I met his angry gaze and stared him down until it softened.

“I’ll forward my records to you. But you, Lex. Not that dipshit CMO,” he conceded.

“Deal.” I held out my hand to seal the agreement, and Bruce shook it.

I had no sooner finished Dr. Banner’s physical than Agent Romanoff offered to have hers done. Dr. Carson appeared out of nowhere as I was preparing.

“I’ll do this one.” He attempted to take the chart from me. I raised an eyebrow and refused to hand it over.

“I don’t think so,” I snorted. It wasn’t terribly ladylike, but I’d come to view Natasha as a friend. I wasn’t going to let Dr. Carson take advantage of his position to ogle her. He took the chart from my hand anyhow.

“Regardless of how much you may think Director Fury prefers you, I am still the CMO, and I will do Agent Romanoff’s assessment,” he snapped. He must have forgotten her reputation for being terrifying. I wasn’t about to remind him. I retreated to the desk and finished charting my assessment of Dr. Banner. There was a suspicious silence from behind the curtain, and I couldn’t help but look up, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to see anything. I could hear, however, and soon enough I heard what sounded like a slap, followed by some cursing and then a loud snap.

Natasha pulled back the curtain, wearing nothing but a hospital gown and looked pointedly at me.

“I just broke his radius and ulna. You’re going to need to set and cast him. A few rounds of cyproterone acetate wouldn’t hurt either. I’ll wait for you over there.” She gestured to the other side of the infirmary, and stole the tabloid off the nurse’s station before stalking away. I smothered a giggle and headed over to Dr. Carson. He was clutching his arm and cursing. Jane followed with the cast tray. I quickly assessed the injury and sure enough, could palpate clean breaks to the radius and ulna. I gave a quick tug to set the bone. Dr. Carson screamed.

“Jesus Christ, Richmond! What kind of fucking barbarian are you? Get me some goddamn pain control, you stupid bitch!” He yelled. I ignored him and wrapped the first layer of felt around his arm. Jane held the arm straight while Dr. Carson continued to berate me. I rolled the plaster over the felt, and smoothed it out, blocking out Dr. Carson’s vitriol. As I completed the cast, I ordered some pain control and dismissed Jane to get it.

The curtain opened, and I was expecting Jane with the pain meds. Instead, Director Fury glared down at Dr. Carson and myself. Natasha stood behind him, hands on her hips, looking satisfied.

“Dr. Carson, sexual harassment is taken very seriously at SHIELD.”

“I’m sure I don’t know-“

“Don’t start. If Agent Romanoff said you were sexually harassing her, it’s time for you to pack your bags. SHIELD no longer needs your services.”

“Are you firing me?”

“On termination, your contract becomes void. SHIELD will no longer be responsible for the payment of your student debt,” Fury continued, ignoring Dr. Carson.

“Are you kidding me?” He stood up and stepped into Fury’s personal space. Fury sat him back down.

“Your record will be submitted to the licensing body where you opt to set up practice. Please have your things packed and be ready for transport to the Hub in 45 minutes. Dr. Morrison will assume the position of acting CMO effective immediately, until Dr. Richmond finishes the project she’s been seconded to.” Fury took Dr. Carson by the arm and escorted him out of the infirmary. I met Romanoff’s eye and fought the urge to giggle. She winked and nodded toward the assessment bay.

“What did he do?” I asked as I drew the curtain.

“You don’t want to know. It was vulgar.” She looked disgusted. I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let-“

“Don’t. He needed to go. I was happy to show him the door.” She held out her arm to me so I could draw her blood. Natasha was all business, and offered information for her chart before I could think to ask for some of it. She had a rather complex medical history, so it took longer than I’d expected, but I got the impression I was the first doctor she’d trusted with some of it.

When she left the infirmary, I flopped down in a chair to finish my charting. I only had Steve left to assess and I could pretty much do that from memory, if I wanted to. In fact, I almost felt as though it would be smarter to do that, than have the temptation to ‘play doctor’ take over during an assessment.

[ralphspina-blog1]

a little snafroe snippet

this is from before i ever shared any fic with the hbo war fandom, and it was the intro to a big, epic WIP that just never would’ve happened, because i always start with grandiose ideas and then have to pace myself to come up with anything shareable. but heck, you know, i think i’ll share the bits i feel could maybe stand alone today, why not?

this has some heavy smoochin’ but nothing more serious than that.

“Gene. Hang on a minute.”

 With an exasperated but fond smile tugging at his lips, Eugene sighs and lets his hand slip off the handle of his truck’s driver’s side door, turning back toward the house he just left for – they said they’d discussed this enough times to understand, and that they weren’t going to let their thoughts get bogged down in maybes or what ifs, but stride confidently into battle on opposite sides of the world – what could be the last time.

 Gene should’ve known better, though. If Merriell has a single gift stronger than the rest, and his gifts are as plentiful as they are powerful, it’s for hanging on where he needs to let go and letting go where he needs to hang on. Maybe that’s just such a strong gift that he doesn’t trust his instincts, tries to pull a bait and switch on them, but whatever the case – he doesn’t need Gene anymore. What he needs is to let go.

 So naturally he’s already going back on their goodbye.

 “Yeah, Merriell?” He turns and rests a hip against the side of his truck, looking into his best friend’s illusive green-grey eyes; they take up the better part of Merriell’s tan face, and while sometimes they give Merriell away when he’s trying his hardest to play dumb, other times they deceive better than any spoken lies ever could. It’s about as safe as planning your future around what you see in a crystal ball, trying to read Merriell’s intentions in his eyes. But what other options does Gene have when Merriell says nothing, just stays standing in his doorway with an expression so lost that it makes Gene’s stomach give a painful twist?

 “Merriell,” he says more firmly, finally giving in just enough to walk back to the front door and clap a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t look like that. You’ll get by without me. You ain’t never really needed me, not like -”

 With a choked noise that he tries to stifle by sucking his lips between his teeth and biting down hard, Merriell grabs Gene’s other arm and yanks him back into the house, kicking the door closed behind him and backing him up against it until they’re nose to nose. His mouth is even redder and fuller than usual when he finally loosens the clamp of his jaw around it, lips parted and wet, which makes Gene’s heart stutter strangely in his chest.

 He can’t look away. Merriell’s got him pinned to the door, breathing heavy and hot against his skin, a friend he’s had for five years and suddenly he thinks he doesn’t know the other young man at all, and all he can do is stare at those lips as though he’s been transfixed.

 “What if I do, Gene,” Merriell finally says – not asks, although it’s worded as a question, because he’s got a way of flattening his already monotone voice in tense moments so that his inflection renders everything a cool, dispassionate statement. “What if I always did, huh. What – ain’t you ever fuckin’ wondered why I enlisted with the marines when I knew you was in the army?”

 There – it’s all breaking apart now, all of his guard. Gene chances a look back into Merriell’s eyes and sees nothing but pain, conflict, the same things twisting his entire face. What’s he getting at? A deliberate attempt to avoid Gene during the course of the war by putting half the world between them - but why, where would the sense be in that?

 “Merriell…” Gene doesn’t want to sound as cautious as he feels, but truth be told, he’s almost frightened. Merriell’s never restrained him physically, despite showing more than once that he’s happy to use his body to make others uncomfortable if it’ll guarantee him the upper hand. He can feel himself shrinking up against the door a little and he doesn’t want to, but he can’t convince himself that he should feel safe. Not with Merriell like this. “What’re you sayin’?”

 “Fuckin’ idiot,” Merriell sighs harshly, and Gene’s just opening his mouth to object when Merriell decides to close the scant distance between their faces, which leaves Gene kissing his male best friend with an open mouth because he can’t correct any of the things wrong with that statement in time to make them untrue. His eyes widen when he realizes what’s happened, what’s still happening, and he tries to push Merriell away but then Merriell catches up and his mouth opens too. Then a kiss that was nothing but awkward and ill timed becomes hot and wet, Merriell’s tongue slicking aggressively over Gene’s lips and into his mouth.

 Then their tongues meet and Gene thinks that sparks must shoot from the corners of their lips, because nothing but electricity could send such a powerful jolt through his body.

 “Jesus,” Gene gasps when they break apart long enough for him to catch his breath, his cheek pressed against Merriell’s and his hands fisted up in the front of Merriell’s shirt, “Jesus Christ,” and when Gene won’t move his head enough for Merriell to find his mouth again, the lips Gene couldn’t stop staring at press right up against the pulse point in his neck instead and he slumps back against the door with a quiet whimper. “Nom de Dieu…”

 “Quel blasphème, Gene,” Merriell purrs against his skin with obvious delight, and Gene truly feels his head drop below the surface, somehow knowing even from that first moment that he’ll never see the world from above it again.

[apostateangela]

Neurotheology Part 2

I’ve spent a lot of time since that session reading research about the brain.

Hey, would you look at me now, turning to science?!

In my reading, I came across two terms: neurotheology and neuroplasticity.

Neurotheology is the study of what the brain does during “spiritual experiences”, or the study of the brain in connection with religion.

I am now engaged in neurotheology, using my own brain and what other Mormons have described as case studies.

I suspect I will be about this form of analysis for quite a long time.

As someone who works in education, I’d heard of neuroplasticity. It is the action of the mind during learning and the subsequent structure created in the brain by said learning. From one article called The Mind, the Brain, and God by Dr. Rick Hanson, an indisputable expert on the brain with deep credentials gives the following definition and examples:

Mental activity also sculpts neural structure, so changes in your mind can lead to lasting changes in your brain. This is learning and memory (as well as lots of other alterations in neural structure below the waterline of conscious awareness): in other words, neuroplasticity, most of which is humdrum, like remembering what you had for breakfast, or getting more skillful at chopsticks with practice.

Dr. Hanson is referring to that learning which creates habits. The neural pathways become well traveled and therefore your brain reinforces your learning within the actions of your body as well as memory.

Hanson and other experts discuss how the constant repetition and conditioning of religion in connection with the neuroplasticity of the brain creates not only reinforced thought patterns but also physical responses in connection with what the mind perceives as spiritual or connected to God. Hence, the overcoming ecstasy, speaking in tongues, some types of faith healing, and personal revelation from god--or what could feel like answers to prayers can be explained scientifically.

Here’s what this has to do with my brain. In the same way I explained in my tithing post, actually even more so, I was taught from the time I was three years old what the ‘Holy Ghost’ was supposed to feel like and how he brought the messages from God to humans on Earth.

At eight years old I was baptized and confirmed, which is an ordinance in which priesthood authority blesses/bestows you with the ‘gift’ of the Holy Ghost--meaning if I’m righteous the Holy Ghost is always with me; warning me, comforting me, revealing spiritual truth to me, forgiving me, guiding me, and as my go between with God.

The conditioning was the same: scripture, instruction in classes, family night instruction, music/hymns and primary songs, and seminary classes.

Here is a description about the Holy Ghost from True to the Faith, one of the handbooks of doctrine for LDS church members:

The Holy Ghost, a member of the Godhead, bears witness of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. He is the source of personal testimony and revelation. He can guide us in our decisions and protect us from physical and spiritual danger. He is known as the Comforter, and He can calm our fears and fill us with hope. Through His power, we are sanctified as we repent, receive saving ordinances, and keep our covenants. It is through the influence of the Holy Ghost that we receive knowledge of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and feel Their power, goodness, and love.

What’s that supposed to feel like--this Holy Ghost?

Well, it initially is described as a “burning in your bosom.” But just in case that doesn’t happen, here are other ways described in Preach My Gospel, the LDS Missionary Handbook (Complete with back up in the scriptures):

“The spirit of revelation typically functions as thoughts and feelings that come into our minds and hearts by the power of the Holy Ghost. (See D&C 8:1–2; 100:5–8.)” The Holy Ghost can speak to you through:

Feelings of love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, faith, or meekness (see Galatians 5:22–23).

Thoughts that occupy the mind or press on your feelings (see D&C 128:1).

A desire to do good and obey the commandments (see Mosiah 5:2).

A feeling that something is right (see D&C 9:8).

Feelings of comfort (see John 14:26).

Feelings that “enlarge [your] soul” (Alma 32:28).

Thoughts that “enlighten [your] understanding” (Alma 32:28).

A hunger for more truth (see Alma 32:28).

Feeling constrained (encouraged) to take an action or restrained (held back) from doing something (see 1 Nephi 7:15; 2 Nephi 32:7).

Hmmm, I don’t know if you’re picking up on this.

Basically, feeling the Holy Ghost could be linked to just about ANYTHING!

And just so you know, in every instance in my life that could be connected to the feelings and/or objectives/jobs of the Holy Ghost there was someone close to me to point out that I was experiencing the Spirit communicating with me in my heart and mind.

There have been innumerable instances where this has happened to me. I supposedly have ‘felt’ the spirit of the Holy Ghost, or the spirit of God, had a physical response, and had that experience validated by people close to me.

I’ve felt it so often it became ‘mundane’.

NEUROPLASTICITY!!!!

*Sigh*

Let me attempt to connect all these dots now, name the revelation:

In exploring my accountability for my past life and destructive marriage, I conclude that the powerful ‘spiritual’ experience that led me to believe God wanted me to marry John and reinforced that decision for twenty five years of abuse within that marriage was a direct result of my forty six plus year Mormon religious and cultural entrenchment with its targeted and incessant choreographed brain programming.

I didn’t know any better?

Does this mean it wasn’t my fault?

Can I say that?

Can I believe that?

See, here’s the thing; the horrible, true thing.

I don’t want to admit that none of it was my fault.

Because that makes me a victim.

And I don’t want to be a victim anymore.

But, I was a victim.

Wasn’t I?

I was victimized in the name of God,

over and over and over again, in mind, brain, and subsequently body.

From the moment I was born,

the umbilical was cut,

and then my eyes and my mouth were sewn shut.

How can I hate such a pitiful creature?

If I met such a person, I would have only deep pity

and desired hope for such a tragic survivor.

I can’t hate my past self.

She is me.

It is beyond remarkable that I can,

at this time in my life,

strip away the stitching and shut down the pathways of my brain

that control and thereby betray me.

The pain I have now comes from being stripped by the sharp edge of clarity.

I embrace it, with as much courage as I can muster.

I must admire such a feat,

Especially in myself.

Because the key word here is ‘WAS’.

I was a victim.

I am NOT any longer.

-Angela

[almightygodismydependence-blog]

I Have Finally Seen the Way of Being a True Person

Xiaoli    Henan Province

Since I was small, my desire for reputation was always very strong, and when I interacted with people I paid particular attention to my own image, my status in other people’s eyes, and their assessment of me. So I always allowed other people to have any convenience, any benefits, and I just buried difficulties or grievances in my heart. I didn’t express those things to anyone, and when other people experienced difficulties I would always think of ways to help them. So in my parents’ eyes, I was a good girl; I was a real delight. In my neighbors’ and friends’ eyes, I was warm and generous. After getting married, I also got along very well with my husband’s family. When my sister-in-law and brother-in-law found partners and got married, I was running around like crazy. I contributed both money and effort, and I shared the burden with my parents-in-law. Before long I had become the good daughter-in-law and the good big sister. 

In reality, at that time I was exhausted every day and I was worn out to my very core because I was always tiptoeing around to maintain my relationships with other people and taking care of everyone else’s feelings; I would monitor their expressions and then speak accordingly. I was afraid of hurting someone else and leaving them with a bad impression, and damaging my own reputation. After gaining these “good names,” in my heart I felt proud, and that the price I had paid was worth it. I felt that I was very successful as a human being. I frequently thought to myself: If someday I encounter any difficulties, my friends, family, and neighbors will definitely extend a helping hand to me and help me out of my troubles. But just as I was basking in my “accomplishments” as a human being, a disaster came out of nowhere—it completely destroyed my fantasy and changed my views.

On December 4, 1991, my husband was in a terrible car accident. His spleen ruptured, his liver and kidney were damaged, and there was major intestinal damage. He was bleeding uncontrollably. He underwent four surgeries in just one month with more than 2000 milliliters in blood transfusions. Even so, his life was still hanging by a thread. The doctor said that if they didn’t continue with the blood transfusions, his wounds simply wouldn’t be able to heal. At that time we had just finished building a house and had also bought a car, so we were heavily in debt. There was absolutely no way for us to bear such huge medical fees, and my parents exhausted all their resources so that my little brother could go to college. They had no ability whatsoever to help us, so I had no choice but to reach out to my relatives and friends. But I had never imagined that these people who were usually surrounding me would, one by one, find an excuse to turn me down, to dodge me. I was very hurt. Later, I heard that a relative who we had helped quite a bit had said to someone else: “We couldn’t possibly lend them money. There was absolutely no hope of curing him, and if he died, his wife would just get married to someone else, and then who would pay us back? And even if he doesn’t die, I bet he’ll be disabled for the rest of his life, so wouldn’t lending him money just be throwing it away?” After hearing these cold, heartless words, I could only cry because I knew that this was the voice of all those people who would not lend me money. But what was even more disappointing for me was the unkindness of my husband’s family. My parents-in-law clearly had money, but they only gave us 500 yuan, and later on when they were settling accounts with us, they counted the costs of their transportation, meals, and fruit from when they came to visit my husband in the hospital. My husband had two well-off younger brothers, and when they came to visit him in the hospital they only gave 500 yuan between the two of them. That little bit of money given by my in-laws was a drop in the bucket for us. It couldn’t help resolve our real difficulties. In the midst of pain and hopelessness, I could only apply for loans from the bank, but the bank denied my applications. In the end, I had no choice but to sell the car for a low price to fund my husband’s treatment. In spite of all this I wasn’t able to put together enough of my husband’s medical fees. I was really out of options, and three months later, my husband was discharged early when his wounds had not yet healed. But I never imagined that just as we were stepping into our home, those we owed money to were right on our heels, rushing through our door. Even my elder sister-in-law came to our house asking for money. Facing this situation, I was hurt beyond words. I ran out alone to a wooded area on top of a hill to cry. I had just turned 24 at the time and had only been married to my husband for one year. My ruthless parents-in-law had placed this entire burden on me, and not a single person around us was willing to extend a helping hand to us. The road ahead would be long—how could I bear that kind of blow, that kind of burden? When I was in the woods, I thought and cried, and thought and cried. I really didn’t have the courage to continue on, and I yelled up at the sky: “Heavens! Why is my life so difficult? I really can’t go on in this world. Oh Heavens, I beg You to take my life away from me!” Suffering is suffering, and practical difficulties must be faced in the end, and I didn’t have any choice but to pick myself up, steel myself, and support my family. Enormous life stress led to me, who had always been cheerful and energetic, moping every day. When my husband saw me so wronged, he cried and said: “You should leave this home; you don’t have to suffer like this for me!” To tell the truth, I also had some thoughts of leaving, but I saw my reputation as more valuable than gold, so absolutely would not leave my husband under those circumstances. The days following were even more difficult. My husband couldn’t do any physical labor, and on top of that there had been three years of drought with almost no harvest for three years running, so I was carrying a heavy debt. Even eating became an issue. Just when I was fully awash in despair and I had no hope for continuing on, someone advised me to believe in Jesus. After believing in Him, I saw Jesus’ words in the Bible saying: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved” (John 3:16-17). In the midst of those days of suffering, those words from God brought me great comfort. I also read in the Bible that after the Lord Jesus was resurrected and left us, He went to prepare a place for us, and if it had been prepared He would meet us. From then on, in my heart I looked forward to the day that God would return, and I thought: When God returns, I will no longer need to suffer in this world.

In the fall of 1998, by the grace of God I had the good fortune to encounter a sister who believed in Almighty God. When I learned from what my sister told me that God had already returned and that He was doing new work, I couldn’t restrain my feelings of excitement. I prostrated myself before God and prayed: “Oh Almighty God, my hope that You would return has finally been realized. I have suffered enough and lived enough in this miserable world. I can’t stay even one more day. Oh God, no matter what work You have returned to do or what kind of requirements You have, I am willing to follow You closely.” Later, through reading the words of Almighty God, I understood many truths that I had not understood before. I saw God guiding people as to how to believe in God and how to live out proper humanity. I recognized that all of God’s words are truth and are humans’ words to live by, and that God is leading us to rid ourselves of sin, to live out proper human lives, to walk on the proper path in our lives. On top of that, I saw the genuine love of the brothers and sisters through my interactions with them, and I was deeply moved. This further showed that Almighty God is the coming of the Lord Jesus, that He is the true God who came to work and save mankind. That happened to be at the time of the fall harvest. When the sister in charge of the church’s work learned that my husband was unable to work on the land, she came to see me and right then I was carrying a load of corn on my shoulders. She pulled it right off of my shoulders and told me frankly: “I’ll do it, take a break!” The next day, she found a few other brothers and sisters to come help me harvest the crops. She had even bought steamed rolls, noodles and vegetables for me, and she gave my child sunflower seeds and candy. After the work was done we went back to my house and some of them helped me make food, take care of my child, and some helped me do laundry. Two brothers also bore witness to my husband on God’s work in the last days. In the evening we read the word of God together, sang hymns, and my brothers and sisters listened to me speak about my difficulties. Some of them cried along with me, and some gave me fellowship of the truth. Among them, one sister said to me in fellowship: “Without these misfortunes, you may not have become a believer in Jesus Christ, and you would not have been able to accept God’s work in the last days. Even more, you wouldn’t be able to experience His love and salvation; this isn’t a bad thing, but a good thing.” I felt that everything they were saying was very novel and was all just what I needed. It really drew me in. When I saw their sincere help for me, I truly was very moved. We had neither kith nor kin, but they were dearer to me than family. Experiencing years of hardships and tribulations in my life and other people’s indifference had made me disconsolate, but the love and care of my brothers and sisters made me feel so warm—the long-forgotten expression of a smile appeared on my face. I hadn’t imagined that I would see this sincerity I had been wishing for so many years in my brothers and sisters from the Church of Almighty God. From the truths they shared in fellowship with me and what they lived out, I realized that only Almighty God can do this type of work and can change people. So under the encouragement of God’s love and with the help of my brothers and sisters, my numb heart regained a bit of feeling, and I once again had confidence and courage for living. Later, I saw that my brothers and sisters would run around working and pay a price for the gospel work of God and I could not sit still, so before long I also put myself into the work of preaching God’s gospel of the last days. As my interactions with my brothers and sisters deepened, I saw that they truly were not the same as worldly people and that within the church, you never needed to worry about who would mock you or be calculating, nor did you need to fear saying something carelessly and offending someone. The brothers and sisters were always simple and open when they were together, and they would speak whatever was in their hearts, and even if it meant exposing some corruption it could all be dealt with correctly. All of it could be accepted from God and no one fixated on anyone else’s issues. It didn’t matter who said or did something wrong; no grudges were held and everyone looked into their own hearts to know themselves and learned whatever lessons they needed to learn. Whichever brothers or sisters were experiencing difficulties, everyone would work together to help them, to put their hearts into fellowship on the truth so that when they encountered these difficulties they could understand God’s will and put the requirements of God into practice. Between brothers and sisters there was no division by hierarchy—everyone came together as equals. The workers were the same as average brothers and sisters; no one was special. From Almighty God I saw the light, I found something to lean on, and in my heart I was able to experience a peace and stability I had never had before. Every day I had an inexpressible enthusiasm and joy.

Later, I was uplifted by God to be a church leader from August 1998 to the end of 2005, and even though I spent quite a bit of time in the church, during this time I enjoyed a great deal of grace and blessings from God. What was most unbelievable to me was that my husband had fully recovered. He could work and earn money just like anyone, and not only did that take care of our home’s debts, but we had some savings. We passed our days in peace and in harmony. I was praying and giving praise in front of God every day, thanking Almighty God for saving me, this miserable person, and for blessing our home that had suffered such difficulties. I set down my will in front of God and said to Him: I am willing to give the rest of my life to God, to expend it for God, to repay Him for His great love.

By reading God’s words nonstop, I came to understand that God’s goal in choosing people isn’t merely to allow them to enjoy material blessings and His grace, but more importantly, it is to judge and chastise the disobedience within them, to allow them to cast off their corrupt disposition, to live as a true human being. Just as Almighty God said: “Today man sees that with the grace, love, and mercy of God alone, he is incapable of truly knowing himself, much less is he able to know the essence of man. Only through both the refinement and judgment of God, only during such refinement can man know his deficiencies, and know that he has nothing, and thus, man’s love of God is built upon the foundation of the refinement and judgment of God. If you only enjoy the grace of God, with a peaceful family life or material blessings, then you have not gained God, and your belief in God has failed. God has already carried out one stage of the work of grace in the flesh, and has already bestowed material blessings upon man—but man cannot be made perfect with grace, love, and mercy alone” (“Only by Experiencing Painful Trials Can You Know the Loveliness of God” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). In order to more completely save me, God carried out judgment and chastisement of me, from which He allowed me to more vividly experience His love and salvation for me.

When I was the church leader, because I cared too much about my reputation and status, I always maintained my relationships with others in my work for fear that my brothers and sisters would say that I did things for status and that I was too strict, that they would then have a poor appraisal of me. So even when I saw my brothers and sisters do things that clearly violated the principles of the truth and were not beneficial to the church, I could not communicate these points in a timely manner so that the issues could be resolved. I remember that there was a period of time when a sister who had initially been responsible for guiding my work was demoted, and then was arranged to participate in work in the church I was leading. When I reviewed her work I discovered many deviations and omissions. In my heart I knew that we should have fellowship together and I should help her so that she could know herself and adjust these methods. But as soon as I thought about the fact that she used to be my superior, I worried that if I pointed out the errors and deviations in her work, she could say I was too arrogant, or could develop a bias against me. When I thought of all that I kept my mouth shut, and regarding the work she was responsible for, I started to just let things slide. This was to the point that the work of gospel that she was responsible for hadn’t picked up for several months, many brothers and sisters were negative and weak, and finally she was weak to the point that she entirely lost the work of the Holy Spirit and was suspended so that she could reflect on herself. As for my own situation of corruption, the sister responsible for my work had guided and helped me many times by fellowship in the truth, but because I had continued to fail to know myself, I did not know the seriousness of the issue. I had not taken it seriously at all, and after it was over I was still living that way. I hadn’t really changed. In December of 2005, the church issued a sermon: “Only Selecting Leaders Who Pursue the Truth and Have a Sense of Justice Is in Line With God’s Will.” This required us to begin a new audit of the church leaders of every location, and the sister in charge of my work told me: “Based on weighing of the principles, you’re not suitable to act as a church leader. You don’t have a sense of justice, and when something comes up you always prefer to maintain your relationships with people. You are the ‘nice guy’ who can’t offend people. When I point out the deviations and problems that exist in your work, you justify it and make excuses for yourself. You don’t accept it when others deal with and prune aspects of you, and you are always considering your own reputation and status, considering your image in other people’s hearts. Looking at it overall, you are one of the people referred to in this sermon—one of the ‘nice guys,’ one of the deceitful people without a sense of justice who must be dismissed. This is because when you encounter an issue you always consider your own benefit; you always speak and act for your own face and your own status. You absolutely do not care for the will of God, and you do not think of what to do to benefit the church or the lives of your brothers and sisters. You are leading the church this way and bringing your brothers and sisters in front of you; it is a serious resistance of God. You’ve been given guidance many times on what you’ve displayed in these circumstances, but you have not taken it seriously, nor have you focused on changing. So, according to the church’s recent principles for using people, it has been decided that you should be relieved of your duties in order to reflect on yourself. This does not at all mean that you are not able to change. I hope that you can treat this properly and really reflect on yourself, recognize your own corrupt aspects, and focus on change. This will be beneficial to your own life and it will also benefit the work of the church.” As my sister was speaking to me my entire face turned red. I felt I didn’t have anywhere to hide. I had gotten to that age and had always been looked up to and praised by others. No one had ever exposed me to my face that way. I was in great pain and was extremely embarrassed. I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. I generally did not pursue the truth and I had never seriously dissected my own corruption, so that day when that sister suddenly told me that the nature of my essence was deceitful and I was being replaced for that reason, I absolutely could not accept those facts. I felt that I had reached a low point—I couldn’t help but lose control and start crying. I felt negative and was in despair. Amidst this painful refinement, I saw the words of God that said: “People bring their ways of serving officials and lords to the house of God, vainly thinking that such ways can be wielded here. Never did they think that God has not the disposition of a lamb but that of a lion. Therefore, those associating with God for the first time are unable to communicate with Him, for the heart of God is unlike that of man. … If you lack real knowledge and are not equipped with the truth, then your service with passion will only bring upon you the loathing and abhorrence of God. Now you should understand that belief in God is no mere study in theology.” “If you are a hypocrite and one who is adept at ‘socializing,’ then I say that you are definitely one who trifles with God. If your words are riddled with excuses and valueless justifications, then I say that you are one who is very unwilling to practice the truth” (“Three Admonitions” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). The indisputably correct judgment in God’s words stunned me. I was exactly that type of deceitful person who despicably attempted to be dishonest in front of God, who relied on Satan’s worldly philosophy in my actions and resisted God. When I reflected on the time since I had become responsible for the church’s work, even though I had unceasingly performed my duty, I was doing it entirely for my brothers and sisters to see me highly, to satisfy my own vanity and even more to safeguard my own status. When the church assessed our degree of entering into the truth, I heard from that sister’s words that in the aspect of recognizing their own corruption, the degree to which the brothers and sisters in our church had entered in was skin-deep. When I was filling out the questionnaire, I consciously answered the questions with an eye to the aspect of knowledge of myself so that this sister wouldn’t think less of me, as well as to imply to her that I had the capability to lead our brothers and sisters to know themselves. In the past I had provided guidance for a sister based on my own will, which led to a serious problem in her work. This ended up causing a great loss to the church. When the church leader brought this up with me, I believed that she didn’t know the whole story, so I feigned ignorance and didn’t mention my own responsibilities. This type of thing happening to me wasn’t just a one-time occurrence, but a consistent way of doing things. I thought of all the times these types of situations had occurred, and my sister had always diligently communicated with me about it to help me understand the truth and know myself, but in order to protect my own face and status I would make excuses to justify myself. I would discuss right and wrong, and wouldn’t accept the help of my sister’s guidance. This seriously impacted the work of the church and could not possibly bring my brothers and sisters true edification or sustenance. That today I was relieved of my duties and reflected on myself was entirely God’s righteousness. This is because God is holy and He does not allow people to bring the worldly pretensions of their machinations into His house to use. He particularly does not allow all those who carry a satanic disposition to lead a church. In the enlightenment and guidance from God, I thought of His words: “If you are especially cordial and loyal to your relatives, friends, wife (or husband), sons and daughters, and parents, and never take advantage of others, yet you cannot be compatible and at peace with Christ, then even if you send your all in relief to your neighbors or have taken good care of your father, mother, and household, I still say that you are wicked, and cunning, too. Do not think that you are compatible with Christ if you are compatible with man or perform some good deeds. Do you believe that your kindness can purloin the blessing of Heaven? Do you think that good deeds are a substitute for your obedience?” (“Those Incompatible With Christ Are Surely Opponents of God” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). God’s words laid my essence bare as if cut open with a knife. So-called “good people” in the world are not good people in God’s eyes. Out in the world people can just exhibit good behaviors, but when in the house of God if you cannot carry things out in an upright manner, and you cannot be an honest person, in God’s eyes this is an insidious and deceitful person. Thinking of the fact that from the time I was small up until then I was always working hard to fabricate a positive image, helping and caring for everyone else, constantly monitoring others’ expressions then speaking and acting accordingly. I was willing to accept so much suffering and being wronged in order to maintain this image. These methods to win people over truly did work out in the world and I gained praise from worldly people; this was because they didn’t believe in God and didn’t have the truth. They could not see through to people’s essences, and they could not make out people’s intentions and motives in their actions. They only distinguished between good and evil based on others’ external behavior. It didn’t matter who it was, as long as they pretended well enough and they could do good things on the outside, they could win people over and gain a good reputation. But when I brought these worldly things into the house of God and applied these earthly philosophies to my work in the church, this was exactly what disgusts God. It displays a lack of a sense of justice, and crooked deceitfulness. God is a holy and good God, His love and effort for humans is true and never empty. In order to save mankind, He is willing to sacrifice all without demanding anything. When He speaks and acts there is no adulteration; it is all the natural revelation of His disposition. Therefore, God prefers people with a true representation of themselves, who speak and act sincerely, who do not have pretensions. But my intentions in doing things were not to honestly show consideration for God’s will and satisfy Him, but to have my brothers and sisters look up to me and recognize me. It was to establish my own image and prestige, to satisfy my own desires. I was exactly what God exposed in His words as a deceitful and insidious person. Because the work that God is completing in the last days is that of judgment and chastisement, and changing people’s dispositions, He must expose and purify people through various types of environments. And I, as a church leader, could not be considerate of God’s will; when my brothers and sisters revealed corruption I was not able to help them recognize that in themselves or see through to the essence of the problem to achieve true repentance and change. I only protected my own image in other people’s minds; I was afraid of offending others so I kept my mouth shut and tried to always be the “nice guy.” This meant that the corrupt dispositions of my brothers and sisters could not be resolved in a timely manner—wasn’t this leading them into harm? Don’t I have a terrible heart? Thanks to God’s enlightenment and leading, I finally saw that the attitude of “pursuing others’ high regard, satisfying your own vanity” is a harmful thing, that it is a cancer planted deep within me by Satan! But I had always pursued these as if they were positive things, seeing them as the basis of how to conduct myself and even took them into the house of God to use, cheating God, cheating my brothers and sisters, treating the work of the church as a game. It really was misguided and pitiable. I flattered myself thinking that I was successful at being a good person, but that day under the judgment revealed in God’s word, I finally recognized that everything I was living out was Satan’s demonic disposition. It was not at all what should be lived out in proper humanity. It was the judgment and chastisement of the words of God that made me finally clearly see how Satan corrupts mankind. It had long planted deep within my soul the poisonous seeds of leaving a name for yourself, of saving face, the idea of targeting a person but not their reputation and exposing them but not their shortcomings. This was to poison me, to toy with me, to make me more and more superficial and deceitful, so that I would become a truly deceitful person.

After I recognized the truth that I had been corrupted by Satan, I immediately prayed to God to seek the appropriate truth to resolve my own corruption. Then, I saw these words from God: “My kingdom requires those who are honest, not hypocritical, and not deceitful. Aren’t the sincere and honest people in the world unpopular? I am completely opposite as it. It is acceptable for the honest people to come to Me; I delight in this kind of person, I also need this kind of person. This is precisely My righteousness” (“The Thirty-third Utterance” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). “That God asks for people to be honest proves that He really loathes those who are deceitful. God does not like deceitful people, which means that He dislikes their actions, disposition, and even their motivations; that is, God does not like the way they do things, and so, if we are to please God, we must first change our actions and manner of existence. Previously, we relied on lies, pretense, and falsehood to live among people. This was our capital, and the existential basis, life, and foundation by which we lived. And it was all despised by God. … And so, today, the die has been cast: If we are not honest, and if, in our lives, our practice is not directed toward being honest and we don’t reveal our own true face, then we will never have any chance of gaining God’s work or gaining God’s praise” (“To Be Honest, You Should Lay Yourself Open to Others” in Records of Christ’s Talks). The clear guidance in God’s words gave me a standard for being a human being and a direction in my life—to be an honest person. An honest person shows a true representation of themselves and does what they say. There are no pretensions, no personal schemes, they don’t work for reputation or their own benefit. In all things they only seek to satisfy God, and to benefit people’s lives through their words and actions. So only an honest person is a real person, is a person that brings God joy. Only those who become honest people can receive His salvation and enter into God’s kingdom. I can no longer rely on falsehoods and pretensions in my life. I have to change my survival methods, resolve my own intentions in my actions, and no longer live for reputation or status. In all things I must focus on genuinely being a human being, acting according to God’s requirements.

Even though I am willing to pursue being an honest person, as I have been too deeply corrupted by Satan, putting it into practice is still quite difficult; especially the moment it has to do with my reputation or status, I just lie and cheat in spite of myself. I remember when I was preaching the gospel and I saw that my brothers and sisters really threw themselves into their evangelism, and were winning many people for God, but my results were never very good. I felt ashamed, and I was worried that other people would look down on me because of that. During those few days I had just borne witness to a new member about God’s work in the last days, and she brought two more friends to her house so that I could chat with them as well. But because some other things came up that day, I never made it. In the evening a sister asked me how many people I had converted, and without thinking I told her: “Three people.” After she left, I started to reproach myself: I clearly just converted one person, so why did I say three? Wasn’t it just for my own vanity, my own face? Before, when I didn’t focus on being an honest person, I told many lies without being conscious of them, but when I started focusing on it I discovered that I lied quite a lot and that these lies just fell out of my mouth. It seemed that I was killing myself with these lies. I was subject to a lot of refinement on this, and I was concerned that I was so difficult to deal with. I questioned myself: Will it kill you to tell the truth? Why don’t you just remember things? I was disheartened because I had never been able to truly enter into the truth of being an honest person. I felt that I was an utter failure as a human being and I even believed that God didn’t want to see me, this deceitful person, anymore. It was so difficult for me to tell the truth, and I had so many corrupt dispositions, how could I possibly change? It turned out that my essence was as the devil’s and I could not be saved by God. Sooner or later He’ll get rid of me. When my thoughts went there, I lost all confidence in myself and began to give up.

Just as I was sinking into negativity and complacency, some lyrics from a hymn of God’s word sounded in my heart: “We should have one resolution: No matter how intense of an environment or what difficulties we are facing, no matter how weak and negative we are, we cannot lose our confidence in changing our disposition, nor can we lose confidence in the words of God. God has given mankind a promise, and He requires that man have resolution, and that they have the perseverance to receive. God does not like cowards, God likes people who have resolution. Even if you displayed much corruption, even if you walked many winding paths, or have committed many transgressions along the way; if you have resisted God, or if some of you have blasphemed against God in your heart; or if you have murmured, or have had conflicts, God will not look upon this. God only looks to see if you will change. Just as a mother understands her own child, God understands each and every person. He understands all the difficulties, weaknesses and requirements people have. Furthermore, He understands the difficulties, weaknesses and failures one will encounter throughout the process of undergoing transformation in one’s disposition. God understands this the best, which is why I said God searches the heart and examines the mind. Regardless of your weaknesses, as long as you don’t forsake the name of God, don’t leave God and don’t leave His way, then you will always have the opportunity to transform your disposition. If we have opportunities to change our disposition, then we have hope to continue on. If we have hope to continue on, then we have hope to be saved by God” (“God Likes People Who Have Resolution” in Follow the Lamb and Sing New Songs). These words from God really moved me; in them I saw God’s hopes and I understood that a change in disposition is not a simple thing. Becoming an honest person isn’t something that happens overnight, but it requires me to unceasingly pursue the truth and to have an unshakable resolution. At the same time I also saw that if I only relied on my own will to control and restrain myself to not tell lies, I wouldn’t be able to meet the standard of an honest person. I had to continue to recognize my satanic nature in God’s words, and in all things focus on dissecting my own intentions, even more so at the time of speaking or acting for the sake of reputation or status. Then, I could gradually practice these and through this persistent practice I would be able to achieve change. Thanks to God’s enlightenment and leading I have a path for putting that into practice, and I have the confidence and the resolution to continue to seek to be an honest person.

Before long, in order to change and purify me, God once again set up an environment to test me, to make me perfect. The leader of our church was my best friend, and we had a very close relationship. There was a time that she gave me incredible help in my life, but at that time her own situation was very difficult, and she ended up making a mess of the work in the church. Brothers and sisters met with her in fellowship on this many times, but there was no change. After I heard about that I wanted to go seek her in fellowship, but then driven by my nature, I was afraid to offend her and I made excuses to myself: We’re not performing our duties together right now so I don’t need to pay any mind to this. If she really isn’t suitable to act as a church leader, our brothers and sisters will help to expose that. When I had that thought, God’s words of judgment immediately came upon me: “There have been many times I have advised the brothers and sisters who are with Me that they should believe in God from their own hearts and not protect their own interest, that they should be considerate of His will” (“The Path … (5)” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). “Have a clear understanding of everything that God does, see things according to God’s word and see things by standing on the side of God. This way your viewpoints will be correct. Therefore, to build a good relationship with God is a top priority for anyone believing in God; everyone should treat it as the most important task and as their major life event. Everything you do should be weighed against whether or not you have a normal relationship with God. If your relationship with God is normal and your intentions are correct, then do it. In order to maintain a normal relationship with God, you can’t be afraid of losing out on personal interests, you can’t allow Satan to prevail, you can’t allow Satan to have a handle on you, and you can’t allow Satan to make you into a laughing stock” (“How Is Your Relationship With God” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). The judgment in God’s words made me recognize that if I continued to protect the benefits of the flesh, I would be an accomplice of Satan, and I would thoroughly disappoint and disgust God. God had paid an immeasurable price for me, and at the critical moment I would always hurt Him for the sake of the flesh. Was I a human being? Why couldn’t I care about His will? God had given me endless grace and countless blessings, so why couldn’t I repay Him? Maintaining the work of the church is one of the most basic things of my work as a person who believes in God, and establishing a proper relationship with Him is most critical for me as a believer. I had to satisfy His will; I could no longer live for my own reputation and status, and wound His heart. So, I decided to go and engage in fellowship with her, and through that fellowship I learned that she was in a terrible situation, and she did not at all have a heart of seeking the truth. I knew that in principle she should be replaced and that I should notify the church of her situation, but as soon as I thought of how she had helped me, I hesitated and wasn’t willing to offend her. This was really agonizing for me. If I didn’t bring up her situation, I wouldn’t be able to face God. If I did bring up her situation, my heart wouldn’t be able to bear it. I brought this to God and prayed many times, and He enlightened me that I should give my heart over to God, and not deceive those above me or delude those below me. Under the leadership of God, I finally understood that I couldn’t disregard the work of the church for the sake of maintaining my relationships with others, and that actually reporting her issue to the church would be helpful to her, and it would be beneficial for her own self-reflection. Just like before, if I hadn’t undergone being replaced and scrutinized by that sister, I probably never would have known myself, and I wouldn’t have been able to enter in in my life. So I mustered my courage and wrote out the situation as I understood it to give to my superior in the church. She was quickly relieved of her position. Once I had done that, I felt very pleased for acting as an honest person that time. My heart suddenly opened up and I experienced the joy from putting the truth into practice and satisfying God’s heart. Starting then, my confidence in the practice of being an honest person grew. In the past I was always afraid that if my brothers and sisters knew about negative things in my life, they would think less of me. I was always concealing things, but by then I didn’t feel that there was a need to hide these things, so in the meeting I frankly told my brothers and sisters why I was replaced, how many terrible things I had done that were contrary to the truth and why I had been deceitful to God as well as my brothers and sisters. When I said all of this I was trembling and my face was hot, but what I hadn’t imagined was that after my brothers and sisters heard me out, there was not a single person who was repulsed by or looked down on me. One sister said to me: “In the past I didn’t want to have as much to do with you because I felt that I wouldn’t be able to get close to you. The feeling I got from you was that you had never experienced any corruption, so I kept a respectful distance and wasn’t willing to interact with you. When replacing this sister, I thought that because you have such a good relationship with her, you wouldn’t stand on the side of the truth, but that you would certainly be on her side and speak for her. I hadn’t imagined that you would expose and speak about her. The work of God truly can change people, and through you I can see that God truly is the Savior of mankind!” I felt both ashamed and moved by my sister’s words. In the past, I had always thought that I didn’t reveal my dark side to my brothers and sisters, and that I could maintain my positive image. But in fact, under God’s leadership they had long been able to distinguish good from evil, and the more I put on false pretenses, the more they disliked it and were disgusted by it. The more I opened myself up, not only was I able to gain God’s enlightenment and illumination, but I could also become truly closer to my brothers and sisters. I truly experienced that only an honest person is a true human being, and a person who God and humans like. My heart felt a release as never before. Because I was willing to put into practice being an honest person, when some important work came up for the church, the church leader would arrange for me to go take care of it. Through this type of work, not only did I do some things that were beneficial to the church and the brothers and sisters, but from that I also understood some truth and learned some lessons. I felt at ease and I enjoyed it; I felt very free, and that living that way was very meaningful.

But in my practical life I was not only interacting with my brothers and sisters. I still had to face my family, relatives, and friends who did not believe in God, and this once again presented difficulties for me. I didn’t know how to be an honest person among them, particularly as soon as I thought of when I had just started to accept the work of Almighty God, none of my classmates, relatives or friends could understand me. They avoided me, and I also avoided them because I was afraid they would make fun of me. When I did encounter them, I wouldn’t speak to them from the heart, but would find an excuse or tell a lie to deal with them. I kept far away from them, and I believed that an honest person couldn’t get along with those who didn’t believe in God. I even believed that if I didn’t lie, I wouldn’t be able to continue to function in this world. Later, I saw these words from God: “Living in this world, living under the influence of Satan’s corruption, it is impossible for people to be honest, but can we, having become honest, exist in this society and this world? Can we be segregated by them? No—we’ll live as before, because we don’t rely on treachery to eat food, or breathe air. Instead, we rely on the breath and the life given by God to live; it’s just that, today, the principles of our existence, the direction and aims of our existence, and the basis of our lives must all change. It’s just that we are changing our method and the way we live in order to satisfy God and seek salvation, and this is totally unrelated to the food, clothing, and habitation of the flesh. This is our spiritual need. Is it not so?” (“To Be Honest, You Should Lay Yourself Open to Others” in Records of Christ’s Talks). God’s words once again solidified my confidence in my pursuit of being an honest person, and they rid me of my concerns. No matter how they see my belief in God, I am willing to face them with a generous heart, to do my best to put into practice being an honest person according to God’s requirements, to no longer live in falsehoods as in the past. After that, I no longer avoid them, but I interact with them normally. When I see that they are experiencing difficulties, I help as much as I possibly can. When I interacted with them in the past I was always carefully observing their reactions, afraid that I would offend someone with something that I said and hurt my own interests or impact their image of me. Now I put this into practice according to God’s requirements and I no longer hope to gain any benefits from them. Instead, I interact with them out of love and according to the truth. Whatever extreme things they say or lines they cross, I dare to criticize them for, to use the truth to respond to their erroneous views. After a period of time, I discovered that those relatives and friends who kept their distance because I believed in God were willing to interact with me, and they all believed that I was in a higher realm than them. When they encountered difficulties they were happy to talk with me, and I was also able to preach God’s gospel of the last days to them. Through my experience I deeply understood that the words of Almighty God really are the truth, the way, and the life. The work of purifying and changing people that He is doing in the last days is practical and real, and though from the outside it doesn’t seem to be earth-shaking, it has actually made us aware of how to live, how to be human beings, and it has ended up changing us, making us gradually shake off Satan’s corrupt disposition and live as human beings, to live freely, happily, and at ease. In the past, I could never connect God’s work of saving mankind with my own practical life. But now, through my experience, I can deeply feel that God’s work of judgment and purification in the last days is what all corrupt humans require. Only if people undergo this type of work and accept God’s salvation can they live as human beings, and have a happy and promising life.

I give thanks to God’s judgment and chastisement, allowing me to finally break free of the bonds of the forces of darkness, so that I am no longer hiding myself because of the restraints of reputation and status, and I could step on solid ground in the house of God and fulfill my duty as a creation. Having walked this path, I have deeply experienced that God’s work of judgment and chastisement in the last days truly is to save mankind. Although I experienced some suffering in the midst of His judgment and chastisement, in my heart I am very happy, and I feel that I am able to accept His judgment and chastisement and live out the life of a human being. This is my good fortune, and it is also my greatest comfort. Even though I still fall far short of God’s requirements for an honest person, I will continue to work hard to be a truly honest person who will bring God joy!

[chemorygunko]

Global Check In - 3 April 2018

Kids, Selfishness & Irritation; Kidneys; Fatigue & Lack of Focus; Spiritual Journey Reality Checks & Recommitment; Internal vs External Validation; (Ego) Death & Resurrection; Big Level Ups; and Mercury Retrograde Downloads have started

Hi Beautiful Souls <3

So if you were looking for me the past few days and weeks, I know I’ve been a bit scarce - I am sorry lol ;) Been busy with stuff and then really needed some downtime.

LOL as we’re talking and actively planning the Sanctuary, I keep thinking to myself how much I’m looking forward to living somewhere where I can take a practice of silence for an extended period. The more I embrace the ascetic lifestyle, the more value I see in it, and being able to do a month of silence seems so amazing for me now.

I remember, about 14 years ago, thinking to myself that at some stage in my life I would take a year and REALLY study A Course in Miracles (ACIM)… and I’ve done that now and it was amazing. And for Lent we gave up difficult stuff (milk and related products, bread and related products, and shaving), and that was easy to be honest…. the shaving got to me a bit in the end and I was grateful to shave again, but sticking with it was easy.

Also I never thought, in my wildest dreams, that I could ever be happy with anything but a life of money, comfort and excess, but wow…. things look different when you don’t view them through the filter of ego’s desire hey?

Speaking of which, how did your Lent go? Did you make it through? Any thoughts on the next fast period and what you’d like to restrain yourself with?

Next fast/tapas period is Ramadan, which runs from 15 May this year, to 14 June.

So, yes, it’s been a BUSY period as you can see above from the keywords list!

** Kids, Selfishness & Irritation

I do lump pets into kids because they are like that for many of us - and where this one played out for me was among my birds. So kids jealous and fighting and being noisy and generally getting in the way and demanding focus and attention.

This could also be a group of people, that look up to you, vying for attention, with bickering and politics among them.

Also a fascinating energy of one of a group of kids being clingy and underfoot. For me that meant I had Custard hanging from me all the time the past few days… I’d move her and she’d have climbed back onto me within a few seconds.

This of course led to irritation, which was then coupled with an energy of feeling selfish for not wanting to focus on them and wanting your own space.

Of the people I chatted to, quite a few fell into the guilt of selfishness. I had a different approach, obviously. LOL.

Each time it came up, I was reminding myself that we are their entire world - they don’t go out, do anything different. Their little setup and what we do with them is their entire existence. So I had to have compassion for them - in the end. Was just plain irritated the first few days lol ;)

Once I calmed down, the boisterous play fighting did not stop, but they did become more loving and less aggressive. Two of the birds are still being territorial over me though.

But I keep reminding myself we are their world - and getting irritated by them is akin to being rejected by God. It sucks.

So interesting worshipper level lesson there too, which I suppose is a God level lesson: understanding and having compassion for the experience of the worshipper.

Also an ego level lesson on how to attract ego… you attract more flies with honey than vinegar.

Explains why we couch this all in all-loving first and only introduce the truths later. If people didn’t believe that God loved them deeply, they would never move towards God.

** Kidneys

Kidneys represent fear metaphysically… so if you were one of those with kidney pain or problems, look to the fears you have.

What do I fear? What do I not fear? What should I fear? What do I wish would fear me? Who do I fear? Who do I not fear? Who should I fear?

You can always break questions down by when, where, what, who, why and how.

When do I fear? When do I not fear? Where am I scared? Where am I not scared? What am I scared of? What am I not scared of? Why am I fearful? Why am I not scared? Who makes me scared? Who doesn’t make me scared? How does fear impact me? How does lack of fear impact me?

In addition to the 5W&H, always flip dualities and ask the polar question to any question you ask, as above. You’ll be surprised at how we play out our resistance by asking a polar (opposite) question in the first place, when then polarity question we created second was actually the question we needed.

In simpler English, in case I fluffed that with my retrograde brain… you’ll often ask what makes me scared when you need to focus on what doesn’t make me scared kind of thing.

Your ego interferes by getting you to look for the opposite (wrong) angle. It’s one of the ways ego uses distortion.

We talk about the dark corrupting and distorting things, doing them backwards… this is an example of ego doing it on a personal level.

Remember ego is the dark.

** Fatigue & Lack of Focus

I was originally planning to work over Easter, but the fatigue was crazy. I was exhausted all weekend.

Largely this had to do with the holiday energy - most countries had a long weekend, and so the world’s morphic field was in holiday mode. This made focus really difficult.

Second reason was Easter weekend itself and what it means - especially if you are at or near Christ Consciousness on your journey.

If this your first year with Christ Consciousness then you can expect this slump pretty much every year over Easter, so prepare for it. And don’t plan to go away on holiday over Easter weekend ever - you’re very likely to want the Sanctuary of home base during this energy.

I had planned to work (going against this advice), because if I force myself into it, and push through, I can often slide into a workflow. I failed miserably this time LOL. Energy was way too overwhelming.

The reason for the slump is the death of Jesus… he dies the Friday, and we go through an ego death. It might not always be the kind of ego death you’re used to though - it could look like a recommitment or just a lot of exhaustion and hibernating. Then when the resurrection happens the Monday, you resurrect too.

So it will always, at minimum, hit you as a needing to hibernate and rest period. Being at home will just lighten your cognitive dissonance load and give you privacy if you need to have a more traditional ego death or spend some time wallowing or releasing emotion.

Remember that we now entering the speeding up shifting period (21 March to 21 June to 21 Septemeber plus 3 weeks’ integration til mid-October), so the fatigue is likely to be quite constant from here to mid October. The boosts you need now are energetic.

In practice, this means that you need to ignore and push through a lot of the physical pain and exhaustion. It’s shifting overload you’re experiencing.

Also remember your butterfly releases daily - http://lifecoachestoolbox.com/index.php/butterfly-release-videos-by-life-coaches-toolbox

Butterfly Release takes care of one the biggest ongoing physical challenges you’ll face with shifting, releasing your SB Junction. When you shift too much, it gets stuck.

Butterfly Release is a craniosacral therapy mechanism to unstick the bone, and will help you get unstuck as well. Often, feeling stuck in your journey is about the SB junction. Powerful little piece of knowledge to have if you shifting ongoing. So please use it!

** Spiritual Journey Reality Checks & Recommitment

So I’ve noticed a few people breaking through the free will stage of reality checks and commitment - big yay and awesome well done to you if you have: this is a big level up! Proud of you.

What this means - and looks like - is the following:

Up until this stage of your journey you’ve made commitments to the next stage of your journey without knowing what that actually means and how it will play out in your world - both the good and bad stuff.

Now however, because you have advanced far enough, you get to see the bad stuff that could happen before you commit to a stage. What takes more time to get used to seeing is the good stuff - that takes a few go rounds of this before you start looking for the good stuff.

What’s happened is that you’ve mitigated your ego enough that you can control it now - even if it’s still a stretch to do so. Therefore, you are being shown the consequences because they know that it won’t chase you away immediately anymore.

Also you’ve started seeing enough about how lessons play out, so you understand that something bad now can turn into something good later on - and you’re not looking for the instant gratification. So you can accept that, for example, you will lose friends or a specific relationship, without it being the end of your world. So they show you it’s a possibility.

If you’ve reached this stage, go out and do something to celebrate it today. This is a big level up and you deserve acknowledgement for it. Reward yourself because you should be proud - this is a huge milestone. You’ll only understand that in retrospect, so just trust me and go celebrate it today lol :)

The advice for this stage is look for what the positive benefits and long term benefits of this could be.

So short term I don’t pay bills and I feel ashamed, but long term I move more into an ascetic lifestyle and learning how to live without money so that I can create a money free world.

Short term my kids are angry cos they don’t get what they want, but long term they learn patience and to appreciate what they get.

Short term I act the way people want so that they accept me (external validation), which makes them instantly happy and me instantly unhappy and leaves me feeling disingenuous, OR I stand firm in my beliefs (internal validation) and watch how God rewards me with more detailed information because he’s seen me prove that I can stay true to him.

It’s always a trade off.

With recommitting, always remember that it is better to say no if you don’t feel ready, than it is to say yes and break your oath. So if you aren’t sure you’re ready then say not now, I’ll try again later.

But if you feel you can push through then my advice is do it.

You can always say to God that you will try and you will give it your best shot, but that you might need help. And then ask for the faith to know that you will succeed and can succeed - and keep asking for help.

** Internal vs External Validation

The internal vs external validation level up came to a lot of people this past week and weekend, so it’s worth touching on.

I repeat this often because it’s important: THE TEST FOR ASCENSION IS INTERNAL VALIDATION.

I can tell you this final test because you cannot fake your answer - you can either validate for yourself what is happening to you or you can’t. You can accept it or you can’t.

You can’t fake that resonance.

Internal vs external validation plays out in cognitive dissonance…. do you stand by what you know inside, that which comes from God, or do you bow to the pressure of what the people around you expect?

When it comes to choosing to listen and act, do you choose for God or the people around you?

You can only serve one, and you always serve one or the other.

The more you cater to people, the more you serve ego, because catering to them is catering to the demands of their egos. Just like people demand of God without giving thanks, treating God as if he is a servant there to fetch and carry for them.

Conscious manifestation and law of attraction anyone? Just tell the universe what you want and it MUST deliver - because God is BOUND to honor your free will and manifest what you create, if you create it properly.

They just forget to mention that this means you are rejecting God and treating him like a servant. We call this the Great Deception.

So, if you are not good at manifestation practice, it’s because you’re moving closer to God. It’s why so many of us battle with money and manifestation.

On the downside…. and there are always both down and upsides… on the downside, people are not going to like it when you stop catering to them. So this is going to turn into people rejecting you and problems taking place in your life.

On the upside, the more you listen to God and your internal promptings, the more God gives you in terms of information and downloads and understanding. And the better detail you get.

It’s a lesson of faith… you give the faith to God, and trust yourself to get the right answers and NOT let your ego filters get in the way, and in return God gives you better detail. And it comes more easily.

Because you have proven that you will stand firm.

So one hand yes, you face turmoil, but the rewards are faith, trust, patience, inner peace, security, self-trust, and surety. Knowing. I’d say that’s a fair trade lol :)

You can go through lessons energetically if you chase them and push through them as quickly as possible - this causes less life experience events to have to play out in your life.

It’s the miracle process: a miracle is a collapse of time that means that future events (arguments, clashes, break ups) do not have to take place in order for you to reach understanding. It’s a shortcut to a higher resonance.

So, if you choose to really forgive someone now, it’s a miracle that means that you don’t have to keep fighting with them for months, in person and in your head, to understand their point of view or why they did this.

The forgiveness miracle causes a collapse of time that means you don’t have to spend hours thinking about it and feeling generally crappy. That time can now be used for another focus area.

This also means that if you get through the lesson quickly, then you do not have to live out the experiences. So chase the lesson.

How do you chase the lesson? Mirrors lets you mine all the statements. Your job is to keep answering as many questions on the theme as you can within the first week.

Once you have the lesson and the resonance, then the life event experiences won’t need to be called into play.

Free mirrors of relationship tools at http://lifecoachestoolbox.com/newmirrors/

** (Ego) Death & Resurrection

So if you did have an ego death this weekend, as mentioned above, it was the death and resurrection energy.

Many of the ego deaths were linked to recommitment and level ups - and the ego death will happen because you have personal layers that prevent you from seeing the energy for what it is. You’re seeing it through those ego filters, which causes misperception, and so those ego layers need to go so that you can see it clearly for next time.

So it’s always the same energy arriving, but if it triggers your ego layers first, then that will cause an ego death.

They just keep coming back until you have cleared everything that stops you from seeing it.

You should have started feeling lighter yesterday and today…. if you aren’t then YOU ARE PERSONALISING - end of story. If you want to stop suffering, then you have to stop personalizing.

Pain is inevitable - suffering is optional.

So look for the relief and lightness. It is there in the field and many are responding already.

If you aren’t feeling it then you are stuck in your own suffering, caused by an ego layer you’re viewing this through.

SO FIND THE MIRROR or ego layer of separation! http://lifecoachestoolbox.com/newmirrors/

That mirror is a layer of your ego that stands between you and the truth.

Who’s going to win that battle… you or ego? Who’s calling the shots here? Or are you ego’s whipped little bitch lol?

** Big Level Ups

If you haven’t personalized too deeply, and you managed to pull yourself out of the ego death slump, then you’re probably noticing a big level up this morning.

Stuff you’ve been battling with for a while, you’ll suddenly understand. Concepts that seemed out of reach are suddenly easy…. why couldn’t you see this before?

This is a good time to laugh at yourself… it always seems so obvious once you’re there.

If you’re feeling the level up, then well done.

If you matched all or most of the symptoms listed, then super well done - you were linked to the morphic field and in sync with us, and experiencing field level lessons.

That’s a massive sign of how far you’ve moved out of personalization.

One major level up happening that is worth a mention is that a lot of people got their spiritual names in the last week or two.

So if you felt you got all or part of your name, then you were on cue too, yes.

** Mercury Retrograde Downloads have started

So if you are feeling the level up then you’ll have noticed that retrograde downloads have started.

Retrograde messes with communication and you’ll still get that to a large degree, but the reason for that makes it worth it…. most of the time we are sending messages to God, but over retrograde the communication “reverses” and we get messages FROM God more intensely.

So that 24 weeks of retrograde and shadow becomes the periods in which you get your best messaging and flow, past a certain level of enlightenment.

I have gotten some real gems already - including one I’ll do a separate post on this morning, an experiential analogy that helps you understand how layers of thought in agreement create reality.

So watch out for that post straight after this one.

If that’s not a complete wrap, well it’s pretty close hey ;) LOL :)

Do a Butterfly Release and a Go Ape if you need - instructions on my site and YouTube Channel or just google the terms with life coaches toolbox and you’ll find instructions.

So if you’re looking for any of my stuff just add life coaches toolbox to the google search phrase and you’ll find it pretty quick - should be first results.

This is a great way to search the blog too - I know it’s huge, but each article is a layer of a shift, and sometimes you just need that layer. So get into the habit of searching phrases and terms with life coaches toolbox added to the search to find stuff on the site more easily.

Otherwise, learn to use the sitemap at http://lifecoachestoolbox.com/index.php/sitemap-lct

The sitemap contains text hyperlinks to all the articles and resources. The articles are all plainly titled, so pretty easy to move around.

There are over 1,000 pages of content on the site - tools and info to suit pretty much every need.

However, using the google search option and the phrase life coaches toolbox means that you search articles by content and not just title.

So make it an intuitive challenge to zero in on the search term and see what answers that leads you to. Just remember to add "life coaches toolbox" to the search query :)

And to end, I’m going to repeat the Butterfly Release link to make life easier on myself: http://lifecoachestoolbox.com/index.php/butterfly-release-videos-by-life-coaches-toolbox

Some places you post pull the first link to create the linked item, and some use the last. Putting it in both places keeps you covered lol :)

There’s a random piece of social media posting advice for you ;)

Hope you have a good week - do your basics!!

Light, peace and harmony, Amara xo

[thetwitchychick]

My Foes

I’ve dealt with many assholes over the years, but there are certain, specific people who have really had a drastic effect on me.

Names will be changed not to protect them, but to protect myself.  I still fear what these people are capable of.

My mother:  First and foremost, she is the biggest problem I’ve ever had.  A psychologist who knows her quite well (he got to observe her behavior regularly for just over two years) told me that she had Paranoid Personality Disorder, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and Borderline Personality Disorder.  She was, and still is to some degree, the bane of my existence.  Over time, I’ve had two psychologists and two police officers suggest I break off all contact and get a restraining order against her.  She can be truly dangerous when she believes you’ve crossed her, and I’ve been terrified of her my entire life.  I don’t know if I ever loved her, there was just this all-encompassing fear.

I’ve told a number of people about her, and the shit she’s pulled, and those who had never met her would brush off my comments, saying things like, “Oh, come on, she’s not that bad.  You’re only saying that because she’s your mother and you’re probably just pissed off at her.”  Or, “Really?  I think you’re exaggerating.  No one’s that bad.  Get over it.”

Those who have actually met her have made entirely different comments:

“Jesus Christ, how the hell did you put up with that woman for eighteen years?!”

“If she were my mother, I’d be an alcoholic by now.  Fuck that.”

“If she were my mother, I would’ve run away from home and I would’ve made sure they’d never take me back there.  She’s intolerable.”

“I need to leave.  I can’t tolerate that woman, and if I spend any more time around her, I’m going to punch her right in her fucking mouth.”

One person even went so far as to say that if my mother were his mother, he would’ve killed himself just to make it go away.

She’s an aggressive bully.  She’s manipulative, abrasive, obnoxious, arrogant, demanding and controlling.  The term ‘helicopter parent’ has come into use lately, but my psychologist used the term ‘leech parent’ instead; she didn’t just hover, she stuck to you, and sucked the life out of you the entire time.  She’s competitive.  She can’t be one of those parents who let their kids have their own successes, she has to do everything you do, and she has to do it better (and remind you constantly that you’re not as good as her).

The list goes on, but I’ll get to that further ahead, in my future posts.

My last ex, Angelo: Narcissistic, Histrionic and Passive-Aggressive.  Again, my first psychologist called it (although I didn’t believe him at the time, I was in denial – what newlywed wants to admit that they married a toxic asshole?).  My ex would do anything for attention, he would do anything to be liked, and he only saw you as an extension of himself.  Your needs only mattered if they matched his needs.  If your needs were different, they simply didn’t exist.  His ego was immense, and god forbid you didn’t stroke it constantly.  The problem with histrionics is that they have no sense of self.  Their personality and values could be this way one day, and a month later, everything would change.  One day, he could be very religious, hate motorcycles, and love chess.  Five months down the road, he would tell everyone he didn’t believe in god, chess players were idiots, and he’d buy a motorcycle.  I’ve had so many people comment to me (after not seeing him for some time) that although he looked the same, they didn’t recognize him.  It was confusing as hell, and he went through friends like crazy.  His group of friends would change on a regular basis, and he would morph to become just like whatever new group of friends came along.  He usually wore out his welcome, and he ended up with a number of people who hated his guts after they really got to know him.

My second psychologist told me he was a sociopath, and she said that I needed to get out for my own safety.  He had no qualms about putting me in danger if it suited his needs, or whatever whim he was entertaining at the time.  And, he thought nothing of it.  There was no shred of empathy, compassion or concern for me.  I was nothing more than a tool that would help him be the star of his own reality show, nothing more.

My life with him was nothing but one big ball of drama, and it was exhausting.  I put up with his shit for over twenty years; I wanted to leave many times, but when someone drains you to the point where you can’t even think straight, leaving seems to be an impossible task.  How can you climb Mount Everest when you’re so tired you can’t even walk straight?

I finally did get out, but it was circumstantial.  He ended up taking a job in another city, and was gone a lot, which gave me time enough to recover and make my exit.

My first ex, Allan: Controlling to the nth degree, manipulative as hell, and threatening.  I was only with him for a few years (a very long time ago), but he still helped shape my self-defeating mentality.  In many ways, he was like my mother, and I think I ended up with him because although I hated how she treated me, his behavior and treatment of me was familiar.  It was all I’d known all my life.  I left the situation with my mother only to run to the exact same environment with him.

My last boss, Brent, and his mother, Edna: This working relationship only lasted just over a year, but it brought back all the trauma I’d left behind.  Edna’s behavior was incredibly similar to my mother’s, and her treatment was triggering things I thought I’d resolved.  Working around her was like spending eight hours a day with my mother (only worse, because I couldn’t fight back or protect myself for fear of getting fired).  I was constantly tense to the point where it was causing me physical pain, having nightmares and anxiety attacks, and questioning my own competence and mental acuity.  Her favorite nicknames for me were ‘dummy’ and ‘retard’ (I did check, and verbal abuse is not a violation of labor law where I live; it should be.  If someone physically assaults you, they can be charged.  If they mentally or emotionally assault you, you’re advised to just find another job, or buck up and take it).

There are other, minor characters in the story of my life, but these four are the biggest, and these are the ones I’ll be writing about the most.

All of these people have tried to convince me I was crazy, or that I was nothing, or incompetent.  None of them showed me any respect whatsoever.  The problem is that if they show you respect, that means they see you as worthy, or human.  To them, I was either a tool, or an extension of their own needs.  Humanity and worthiness didn’t have a place in their minds.

On a bright note, I’m finally where I want to be in my life.  I have a good job where I’m respected, with good coworkers and excellent supervisors.  I love my job.  I also have a terrific man who treats me with love and kindness (I’ll call him Mr. Twitch).  It took getting out on my own and living with only myself for a few years to balance myself, and once I got away from the bullshit and was able to flourish, I started attracting different types of friends, and a good partner.  Once I finally attained my own happiness, Mr. Twitch was drawn to that (instead of the insecurity, negativity and fear that seem to attract other types of people).  I finally have someone who builds me up, who’s proud of me, and who supports me in whatever I want to accomplish.  To him, my needs are just as important as his.  We treat each other as equals, and we never talk down to each other.  For the first time in my life, I actually look forward to going to work, and then arriving home after work to a pair of loving arms.

That’s exactly how it should be.  It just took me a very long time to realize that, and get there.

I still have some negativity in my life, but I’m strong enough now to deal with it, and shut it out whenever I can.