#the way he has clearly never knotted a tie in his life and is so angry about it that hes about to start crying

[lollytea]

OH! re: Golden guard @ hexside, you mentioned him going to grom. Do you think Hunter just wears his regular uniform bc if it's good enough for Belos it's good enough for a school dance, or does he wear regular formalwear w his mask? Also, I'm lowkey convinced he has a small "huh" moment when he sees Willow in her dress. I DON'T believe Hunter would develop a crush before ASIAS, but that doesn't mean there aren't small reactions he has to Willow that he doesn't have to other people.

I think he would absolutely wear his usual GG uniform because he considers it as regal looking as an outfit can possibly get. Also, judging from Dana's art, Hunter would be clueless on how to dress himself for grom without the help of King. Idk if he even owns formal attire. Cuz like. When would he need to wear it? (That suit he tried to wear in the art was all tatty and way too big for him. He either bought it second hand at the market or he borrowed it from Eda. Those are the only logical explanations.)

Also YEAH, I love a subtle "huh." moment. He's talking to Luz and making fun of her tutu and blazer combo when Willow appears. Hunter's train of thought just halts mid-sentence. The slightest glitch in his brain once Willow is in front of him. She just popped up so suddenly and he didnt really have time to process how she looked from a distance and like holy shit this is a princess. But its only a second before he shrugs it off and goes right back to roasting Luz, barely paying that little moment much notice. He doesn't have a crush on her at all at this stage but like. She's objectively very pretty (beauty is an OPINION, Hunter.) and he'd have to be blind not to notice. Not that Willow being pretty had anything to do with why he started liking her in the first place, it just became EXTREMELY difficult to ignore once things got to that stage.

[heich0e]

“Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

Your head pops up as the unexpected voice makes itself known, twisting your face towards the sound only to see a figure standing at the end of the alley. He’s silhouetted where he stands—a shape more than a person. You can tell he’s tall, broad, and has a knot of hair tied up loosely at his crown. 

Geto Suguru steps into the light where you can see him better, though it makes his sudden appearance no less surprising. 

“Did you drink too much?” he asks, treading a few steps closer as he eyes you worriedly. You pull yourself up from where you’d been crouching on the ground.

“No, no. Just getting some air,” you reply with a stiff smile, dipping in a bow and quickly adjusting your pencil skirt once you’re back upright.

He has his tie loosened over his shirt with the top button undone, and his suit jacket is nowhere to be seen. He considers you for a moment, and his attention makes you want to fidget but you fight the urge.

You watch as he pulls packet of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his shirt and offers it out to you. “Do you smoke?”

“No, thank you,” you say with a quick shake of your head, smoothing your hands along the front of your skirt and then moving to step past him back towards the entrance of the restaurant. “I should go.”

He angles his body in your way before you can.

“No need to leave on my account,” he says, peering down at you. His face is partially in shadow because of how he’s standing, angled between you and the mouth of the alleyway that leads back to the busy street, caught in a small dark patch between the streetlights and the light affixed to the grungy brick wall. He tips his face up and the light touches his features once more, catching in his brown eyes as he waits in anticipation of your response.

“I should get back inside.” It’s strangely difficult to meet his gaze, so instead you look past him towards the street as an unwelcome heat surges up your throat to flood your face. A car passes quickly by the alley, and you watch as the headlights come and go in a flash.

“Why?” the man before you asks, placing the cigarette he’d fished out of the pack to his lips. He uses his teeth to keep it there while he fumbles through his pockets for a lighter. “You’re clearly having a terrible time in there.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his in shock.

“No I’m not,” your reply is notably indignant, even though his accusation is valid.

How would he know anyway?

“The smiley, nice-girl bit’s gotta be getting old, isn’t it? Pouring everyones drinks. Cleaning up everyones messes.” He laughs, though it’s only to himself, before clicking his lighter to life and holding it to the tip of his cigarette until it catches. The cherry burns red and bright on an inhale, and smoke slips from his lips as he adds, “You don’t have to lie to me, I’m not your boss.”

“I’m not lying,” you insist, but your performance isn’t particularly convincing. 

Truthfully, the very last thing you wanted to do after a ten-hour work day—capping off a fifty-hour work week—was come out drinking with your colleagues. You’ve never really liked these kinds of gatherings, even if the company is the one footing the bill. They always get a bit too rowdy for your liking. Always drag on a bit too long. And you know that you’ll inevitably be the one stuck forcing your plastered boss into a taxi in the wee hours of the morning, while the rest of your equally-sloshed coworkers find their own ways home.

But the department chair, the very same one you’re sure will be singing karaoke with his tie around his forehead in only a few short hours, had been adamant that everyone in marketing attend the gathering since the sales section was joining in too. 

Hence the sales employee standing toe-to-toe with you, blocking your path.

You know Geto Suguru, but only indirectly. The sales and marketing departments are separated by a single floor in your company’s office building, and often work on projects together. Geto is a section lead in sales, with a long, illustrious history behind him before he worked his way up to that role. He’s made a lot of money for the company, and a lot of friends along the way—what with his easy charm, silver tongue, and undeniable good looks. His reputation precedes him—in both good ways and bad.

The fact that he’s here talking to you—a fresh-faced, relatively new-to-role nobody in comparison to his lengthy history with the business—is what you have a hard time wrapping your head around.

“Sure, sure.” Geto waves his hand dismissively, ash fluttering off in tiny specks from the end of his lit cigarette. “I’m sure you just love making all those copies, remembering coffee orders, and running that section lead of yours’s errands too. Oh, and don’t forget when he takes credit for your ideas.”

Your stomach drops. 

He keeps going.

“This upcoming brand collaboration is exciting,”—he takes a puff of his cigarette, his eyes sparkling as he looks at you—“too bad no one knows it was you who came up with it, huh?” 

Your fists clench tightly at your sides, your lips pressing together in a thin line.

Geto blows the last of the smoke in his lungs from the corner of his pursed lips, away from you.

“That’s the first honest expression I’ve seen on your face all night,” he says with a sly smile tugging at his lips.

Your hands are shaking.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask him weakly.

He tilts his head to the side, like your question confounds him.

“I’m not doing anything,” he says, and he sounds like he genuinely means it. “Have I said anything that isn’t true?”

You bite your lip, staring down at your pretty, professional pumps as you stand on the craggy pavement of the alley.

“You’re allowed to be angry, but don’t direct it at me for pointing out the people who keep screwing you over,” Geto says, and the way his voice sounds a bit nearer and the smell of his cigarette gets stronger tells you that he’s dipped down closer to you even though you don’t watch him do it. “No one’s gonna hand anything to you if you don’t fight for it.”

You glance up at him, your expression and your tone equally flat. “And what if I’m not a fighter?”

“Oh, I don’t believe that,” he says, chuckling a bit as he backs away from you.

You watch him as he watches you—contemplates you, like he’s sizing you up. He drops cigarette suddenly to the ground, still only half-burned, and crushes it with the toe of his shoe. You hold your breath as he takes another step towards you.

He leans forward.

“Hit me.”

“Pardon me?” The bewildered question rushes out of you all in one gasping breath, and you take a loping step back in shock.

“Come on, just one,” the man goads you further, rapping against his jaw with the knuckle of his index finger as a smile twists his lips up at the corners.

“You’re drunk,” you spit out incredulously, shaking your head and quickly moving to step past him.

“I’m not.” He sidles smoothly into your path once more before you get the chance to flee, like he’s half-a-step ahead of you at all times. 

It’s infuriating.

“Alright, then you’re just insane,” you offer instead.

You knew the sales department had a reputation for being a bit wild, but this is beyond all your expectations. This is nothing like the charming, easy going Geto that you’ve heard all your female colleague gossiping about in the break room.

His smile falls, and he crosses his arms over his chest. You try not to pay too much attention to the way his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m still your senior, y’know,” he says, and his voice is a little bit colder now. More admonishing.

You’re very acutely aware of that fact without him saying it.

You huff out a frustrated little breath through your nose, crossing your own arms over your chest in a mirror of his stance.

“I’m not hitting you.”

Geto’s brow quirks curiously.

“Why not?”

You can’t believe you’re having this conversation.

“Because that’s assault,” you counter his question shortly.

“It’s only assault if I press charges—which I won’t.” You know he’s telling the truth but it doesn’t make it any more convincing. He tilts his head to the side again, and a silky strand of his dark hair slips into his eyes. “Haven’t you ever hit anyone before? It’s cathartic.”

Your lips part in an expression of astonishment. “Of course I haven’t.”

The man in front of you looks mildly surprised at your answer.

“Do I look like someone who goes around fighting people?” you ask him incredulously.

“You look like you’ve got some repressed rage in you,” he says with a smirk, and the expression only worsens when he sees the way you react to it.

He taps his cheek again before tucking both his hands behind his back and leaning in close to you, like a man offering himself up to the executioner’s block. He shuts his eyes.

“C’mon, just a little one.”

“I won’t.”

“You should.”

“I won’t.”

“How come?”

You take his face in your hands suddenly, tilting it up to meet your gaze.

“Geto-san,” you say quietly, your tone bordering on desperate. “I’m not going to hit you, so please stop asking.”

He opens his eyes slowly, his dark lashes fluttering as he blinks up at you. After a moment he smiles, and his eyes curve into narrow crescents as he leans subtly into your touch.

It’s quiet in the alley, but your heartbeat is quick underneath your skin.

“Can you blame a guy for trying?” he asks you coyly.

You’re still cupping his cheeks in your hands. 

They’re warm.

“You really are crazy,” you reply softly to his question, though it’s not much of a reply at all.

He hums, turning his face so his nose drags across your wrist. His lips brush against your palm as he speaks once more. “I’ve been called worse.”

You don’t doubt he’s telling the truth.

Slowly, the dark haired man picks himself up to his usual height. He’s closer to you now than he’s ever been—and thanks to the little cat and mouse game that the two of you have been playing, you’re very nearly pressed against the alley wall. You can’t even see the street anymore beyond the expanse of his wide shoulders.

Everywhere you look, you only see him.

The realization sits hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach.

“I know you’re a good girl, but what are we gonna do about all that stuff you’ve got pent up in there?” Geto lifts his hand and presses a featherlight touch to your sternum over your diaphragm, his fingertips trailing delicately against the smooth plane where the arch of your ribs ends. Your breath hitches painfully as you stare up at him, a sticky knot at the back of your throat preventing you from forming any response—not that you can think of anything to say. 

Geto smiles down at you, his expression soft.

You see the faintest flash of sharp teeth behind his pink lips.

“Don’t you want me to help you let it out?”

[stromy-weather]

Dazai Husband!?!

Fluff, crack, suggestive/smut, dazai being dazai might be occ

Got these promots from my bot, but I just want to special rant about how I feel they would be as a husband. There is no mention of a strict gender but pregnancy is mentioned.

Dazai is a fun-loving husband. Goofy if anything.

You dated him and supirseingly kept long enough around him to make him want to tie the knot.

Probably calls you belladonna, darling, love, my wifey/hubby.

He goofs around a lot, making to make you laugh. God, he loves making you happy.

He loves your affection and, at any given point, needs to have to be touching you. Literally lives off of your body and affection.

Would let you change his bandages. This is a high step in life that he trusts you with the skin he hides. If you litter it with kisses, he just may cry or just look at you in almost devotion.

Never takes off the wedding ring. It's his second comfort to him if you are not around and in his hold. Bro, dead ass keep ranting to the Agency till the point Kunikida knocks him in the back of the head to shut the hell up.

This man isn't so sure about kids but is willing to make you happy. Would he even be a good father? He is not sure it is mixed.

I mean, he is practically acting like a kid, so he would say that. "I'm your baby."

But it doesn't stop him from thinking of seeing you with his own children. He grows nervous if you ever ask him for a child. He thinks he is not good enough to be a dad.

But the thought to get you pregnant with his child or see you full of his release drives this man feral.

He also will get jealous but plays it off. oh, like. That's my ass. Seriously, he would slap your ass in public. Ha have no fucking shame. I say this alot Don't test this man. He would just randomly squeeze your ass or chest.

Like ever see that tiktok of two people standing together and the one lower hos hand to the person ass only to get the placement fix. Yea, that's him.

Also is a thight man. He would sleep, leave love bites, or ask to squeeze his head. Don't get this man started. Full-on loves you no matter what, no matter what body shape. He married you for your personality.

He is also very bold when talking. He was never afraid to speak. Would speak his mind so this would lead to interesting things....

This man also loves to give you love bites. Your cooking boom love bite on the back of your neck. Sleeping, and he has his head on your shoulder boom love bite. No merry from this man. He likes to leave it in spots where it's clearly visible as well.

Don't even mention insincerity to him because he would softly make love to you all night till you admit they are beautiful/handsome. He loves you a lot and wants them to see how they see them. The most precious thing on this earth to him.

He is a fun husband and is willing to do anything to see his beloved you happy.

You two share a small apartment that the Agency gave you two. Not a lot, but it still brings a sense of home to dazai. He probably got his back if his head slap for the mess, but it was home where you are.

Dead ass shares a futon. Bro can't afford a lot then, well now he is saving up a ot since he is no longer trying to k-s or drowning in that God forsaking river.

Resson to live to tbh. You're his full-on resson not to go yet. [If I dare see chapter 109, I will Wright angst don't test my ass.]

Deadass can't cook, can heat up food but cook hit somehow burn it. If you can, he literally dies for your cooking. Yeah, the first thing to get to a man's heart is his stomach. You made butterflies in it and now warthm from your cooking.

Lovemaking comes down to how he is feeling. He likes to be top, he wants to give you as much pleasure as you wish for. Sometimes letting you top if wanted. But this man is so weird and really badly honry.

Only for the fact that he has someone he can trust. Let dow. The wall he holds so high to his mysterious personality.

I can see it going two ways. Pure blissful moments with you as he makes love. Praising and keeping you even so softly. Other love in a roughly matter. Holding your neck, calling his pretty little sl-t, wh--e, etc. Like there is no tomorrow. Probably still you can't even baffle other words right.

He has no shame like I did before, so make just maybe if he feels like pulling a risk, he does yo uin the Agency. I believe he likes to do it at home, so when he does, he can give you the most loving aftercare.

Baths together are caling and nice, peaceful moments when he not being a chaotic shit in society.

Doesn't know why you love him so much. Sometimes, he thinks back to his old days. Yes, the past is in the past, but worry holds his heart. What if mo-i uses you against him? What if he loses you one day?

Bonus points if you came from him from the Mafia, when he was 18. Or in the mafia.

He probably squeezes you tightly in the night. Like very tight. He doesn't sleep some nights but when he does it feels more peaceful...less nightmares seem to haunt him when your In his arms.

Matching items! Yutaka, phones just name it. He's corny, alright sue his ass if you dare.

Spell check? - uh huh

[rqgnarok]

leave a light on - nolan price

prequel for love you better now, but can be read individually

fandom: law & order, law & order special victims unit

wc: 4,735

warnings: canon presence of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, and hospitals. female reader.

summary: nolan's wife gets shot. he tries and fails to deal with that.

author's note below! masterlist / ko-fi / ao3

Nolan misses Liv’s call thrice before he calls for a recess.

The first two he’s stuck cross-examining the DA’s witness and he doesn’t realize how many times Liv has tried to get him on the phone until the third time she calls. He can’t answer, obviously– Judge MacNamara is lenient but not enough for Nolan to take a call in the middle of the day– but the call goes to voicemail and his screen lights up with Liv’s other attempts to reach him.

He immediately knows it’s bad. And he immediately knows it’s about his wife.

His chest constricts with his panic, breath catching and refusing to enter his lungs as his brain tries to catch up to the situation. The courtroom is suddenly too small and suffocating, his tie a noose around his neck.

It takes McNamara calling his name several times and the DA snidely wondering if the defense needs a minute for Nolan to somewhat snap out of it, pressing on Liv’s contact before the judge finishes adjourning for the day.

“Nolan,” she says, shaky. 

Not Price, which is what he’d expect from his wife’s coworker. They’re all friends, sure, but during work hours they fall into the habit of keeping everyone at arm’s length. Not right now, for some reason, and Nolan is tiptoeing the line between fine and about to crumble on the courthouse steps from a knock-out panic attack. 

“What happened?” Because something must’ve happened. His wife has one of the most dangerous jobs out there, life-endangering experiences being the norm and coming home not-dead being a good day. But if Liv is calling– if Liv is calling and (Y/N) isn’t…

Nolan has been psyching himself up for this day since (Y/N) first told him about joining the police academy. He’s still somehow not ready. 

He will never be ready for this. 

Olivia hesitates for a second too long and Nolan’s fear gets the best of him. “Olivia. What happened?”

Her voice cracks at (Y/N)’s name. Nolan grips his briefcase so tightly on the way to the hospital that his hand goes numb, nails digging into the skin of his palm until it’s red and tender. 

The knot of anxiety in his belly doesn’t unclench despite the quick, easy ride to the hospital. New York traffic seems to be doing him a favor, but it isn’t the physical distance he’s worried about. That one at least he’s able to cross. There’s nothing he can do if his wife is… if she…

Nolan finds a sea of cops and NYPD blue as soon as he crosses the threshold into Bellevue, worried and talking over each other as they watch over one of their injured own. None of them are familiar faces and his panic increases tenfold, the sound of his heartbeat in his ears drowning out doctors, officers, and detectives. 

Suddenly, the sea of people parts for her, and Olivia is in his line of sight, giving Nolan’s brain something to focus on other than the never-ending possibilities of what he might be facing here. She looks disheveled, shirt askew and vest still halfway on; her hair out of place, and her expression haunted, but no blood. There’s no blood on her and it's an important distinction for Nolan to make when she seizes his free hand in hers.

“Nolan,” she says, and her voice sounds like static, just like it did on the phone. It isn’t the line but Nolan’s brain filled with noise, like cotton in his ears and mouth and eyes stopping him from receiving the world clearly. “Nolan, are you okay?”

“What happened?” he asks again. Liv hadn’t explained, not really. She only told him that (Y/N) was hurt and they were taking her to Bellevue. You should come too, she’d said, and should had sounded more like need, which did nothing to soothe Nolan’s raising hackles.

Nolan’s breath stutters. He knows what happened, but he can’t comprehend it. The hand holding his briefcase is shaking. He asks once more when Liv only blinks at him, mouth open and no words coming out. “What happened?”

“We were chasing a suspect via foot,” and Nick’s there, too, by Liv’s side, like an apparition Nolan might’ve conjured. His brows are furrowed, jaw tense. “We caught him mid-rape and separated to cover more ground. No one had mentioned a gun during their disclosures, he wasn’t supposed to be armed.”

“(Y/N) caught up to him first,” Liv continues, voice dry, shaking her head. “He– Shots went off but we didn’t know– he must’ve known we were onto him. Got his hands on a gun after the first wave of assaults.”

Nolan bites the inside of his cheek. He tastes blood and thinks of his wife, and stops.  

“She was alone for two minutes tops,” Nolan wonders if Liv thinks she’s being reassuring. “She’d been shot, we called a bus right away.”

“Where?” Nolan asks tightly.

Liv blinks. Nick answers, “What?”

“Where, where in her body was she shot, how–” he struggles for a full breath and only comes out half successful. “How bad is it?”

Silence. 

“Did you– did you not see her?” he wonders, biting. Nolan turns back and forth between his wife’s coworkers, losing his patience. “Were you there, was she– Jesus, Liv, how bad is it?”

“The bullet hit her chest,” Nolan loses all fiery, defensive passion right then and there. His own heart stops for a second, or at least that’s what it feels like when his chest is engulfed by a pressing ache that numbs him all over. 

“They took her straight into surgery,” Nick continues when Nolan doesn’t say anything to that, unable to leave his partner to the wolves. “Liv rode with her in the ambulance but there wasn’t– it’s in their hands now. They’re taking care of her, pal, okay? She’s getting help.”

Where was the help when she was alone chasing after a fucking criminal, where the hell were you, huh he wants to say; wants to shout and curse and point and make a scene, but the words get stuck in his throat and in the next blink he finds himself seated in the waiting room, still surrounded by cops.

God, Nolan thinks, pressing his fingers to his tightly closed lids. When, in their fifteen years of knowing each other, could he have seen this coming? The bright-eyed, furiously righteous kid halfway through law school and the pretty girl who took one of his classes as an elective, only to completely destroy one of his classmates during a debate that made up half their grade.

Nolan had watched, mouth barely open in amazement as quiet, back-of-the-class (Y/N) didn’t flinch while delivering the final blow and bringing her team to victory. She snuck out before he could talk to her– do something stupid like congratulate her with stars in his eyes and an invitation for coffee on his tongue, but it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter because the next weekend his roommate dragged him to a party and she was there, she was everywhere now that Nolan was unconsciously looking out for her. He ran into her in the hallways from one class to another, in the library, at parties and restaurants. It was like the world was screaming at him here! Here, look this way! Here it is, the rest of your life waiting for you! All you gotta do is look! 

He’d been there for hours already, bored and annoyed out of his mind when he saw her across the room. After nursing the same red cup of warm beer and looking at his watch every couple of minutes, calculating the appropriate time to bail he saw her. She’d been leaning against a wall, her expression changing from concealed humor to disbelief to a laugh that had her hiding behind her hand, entertained by whoever she’d been speaking to.

Who it was, Nolan doesn’t remember. He doesn’t even think about the cliche of it all, how the world faded when their eyes locked across the room and (Y/N) gave him a smile, shy, shrugging and turning back to her conversation. 

The funny pressure on his chest didn’t dissipate when he finally got a chance to exchange words with her. After the final exam, Nolan left the lecture hall and sat heavily on a bench by the door, catching his breath from the adrenaline of a month worth of study finally being over. 

(Y/N) was there, too, smiling sheepishly up at him as she crouched against the wall, elbows on her knees. Her expression brims with shy recognition as she nods. “How’d you do?”

She was talking about the exam. Nolan’s embarrassed to this day by the time it took for him to catch up. His cheeks were flushed when he answered. “I’m, uh, not flushing out yet, I hope.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“Ask me after I’ve slept some 12 hours,” he sighed, messing nervously with his hair. “Things usually seem less dire by then.”

“Would some coffee do the trick?” and Nolan didn’t know it then, but (Y/N) was nervous, bravery swelling inside her chest as she asked him for the first day of the rest of their lives. In the end, she’d been the one to catch up to all the signs, all the serendipitous opportunities to finally end up where they were supposed to. 

“Coffee can work,” Nolan, young and eager, said slowly. He couldn’t stop grinning, high with lack of sleep and the attention of a pretty girl. “You’re buying?”

“It’s only fair,” she shrugged, but there was something giddy about her expression that he still sees in her face to this day sometimes, bright and young. “You look like you’re about to drop dead.”

“And I still seem like worthy company?”

“I think we can pull a few good hours out of you yet,” a few hours, a few years; Nolan will be as sleepless as he was then on his wedding day out of pure excitement. They’ll have spent the night before the ceremony talking on the phone while they slept in separate rooms because their friends are sentimental little fucks like that and wouldn’t let him even kiss her goodbye before the big day. 

He’d described the few hours apart as agony in his vows, had made the crowd laugh and (Y/N) cry with the sentiment, and he wishes he hadn’t now. He shouldn’t have said a damned thing, shouldn’t have manifested any sort of agony into their lives because now the illusion cuts off sharply, and then he’s back in the waiting room, a nurse calling (Y/N)’s name while he plays with his wedding ring and bites the inside of his cheek, staring blankly into the hallway. 

Liv’s still there for some reason, as are some other officers and Amaro, while the others hunt down the man who landed their friend in the hospital. Munch had snapped at the Captain when he told him he couldn’t stay. Fin had to lead Amanda out of the hospital by the shoulders, too stricken to do it herself. 

Liv and Amaro stand when they hear the nurse but it takes Nolan a few moments to gather himself back together enough to pay attention. She tells them, gently, “She’s out of surgery. She lost a lot of blood, but only some of the bullet’s fragments hit her heart. It was touch and go but the doctor was able to extract all of them.”

Nolan’s lungs open up and he gets the first full breath washing over his body since Liv called. He must make a sound, because the attention in the room shifts to him, suffocating and inquisitive. His vision blurs for a second, not because of tears but adrenaline, his heartbeat pumping in his ears.

“She’s extremely lucky,” she continues, and she’s looking right at Nolan when she says this, like it's supposed to help. Like that’s what luck means, almost-but-not-quite bleeding out while your heart is stitched up back together. “Most people with injuries like this don’t even make it past the ambulance.”

Nolan closes his eyes in anguish. He presses his closed fists against his forehead, elbows on his knees, back hunched. It’s almost like he’s trying to disappear into himself, away from the image of an ambulance opening its doors when arriving at the hospital only to be met with his flatlining wife, the sound echoing through his brain and overriding every other of his senses.  

“There’s still a long way to go,” she continues, softer, realizing she’s hit a nerve. She turns to Liv and Nick, who are paying rapt attention even as Nick walks close to him to put a hand on Nolan’s shoulder, tight and steady. “She won���t wake up anytime soon. Her body needs rest and to recuperate from the most acute of her injuries. And the doctor would like to talk about next steps once she does.”

Next steps, Nolan thinks. Next steps, the only next steps he’s aware of are those that lead to his wife, the nurse walking him to her room. Olivia and Amaro trail behind him like a couple of guard dogs, standing alert for any sign of Nolan backing out or collapsing into his grief.

He just might. He feels queasy, nauseous with exhaustion and worry. But then he sees his wife, and, really, nothing else matters. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, devastated, walking to her bed across the hospital room. “Oh, honey.”

Despite his eagerness to touch her, Nolan flails when (Y/N)’s finally within arms reach. She looks asleep for one blissful, hopeful moment, but then Nolan blinks and the light settles; the ashiness of her skin, the uncomfortable placing of her body, the blank expression devoid of dreams or nightmares or consciousness. 

He’d usually be embarrassed to have a witness to such a personal display of affection, but not even Liv and Nick standing tall at the door can stop Nolan from eventually cupping (Y/N)’s face in his hands and kissing the apple of her cheek, lingering and gentle. He’s afraid of touching the rest of her, of jostling her too badly, but the steady noise of the heart rate monitor is a constant, loud reminder that (Y/N) won’t fall apart that easily.

Liv and Nick linger behind him, talking quietly amongst themselves in sharp whispers. It might or might not be an argument, and in Nolan’s mind it feels like both an eternity and a couple of seconds. He would kick them out if he could gather the energy to care about it. Eventually, Benson takes a few apprehensive steps into the room, seemingly having lost whatever fight she and her partner were having. 

“We’re on our way out,” she murmurs. “There’s a lead on our guy, the Captain’s calling us all back to the precinct. But if there’s anything…”

She trails off. Nolan doesn’t answer, studies instead the bridge of (Y/N)’s nose and the shape of her eyebrows, tries to count her eyelashes and catalog the bruises on her face. Liv sighs defeatedly and reaches for him.  

“Whatever you need,” Liv says firmly with a hand on his arm. Still, her steady presence is undermined by the way she keeps looking at (Y/N) like she’s already attending a funeral. Nolan suddenly can’t stand her, even if she rode the ambulance with (Y/N) to the hospital and kept her semi-conscious until the doctors took her off her hands. “We’re here for you, alright? All of us, Nolan. I’m serious.”

“Thanks,” he says, voice rough and cracked from swallowing down his panic and tears. He clears his throat but it does little to clear up his words. “Thank you, Liv. For everything.”

Her lips tighten in an unpleased line, but she nods and leaves the room with one last squeeze to his shoulder. He’s being ungrateful, the fact doesn’t escape him. Liv’s the one who found her, who held her hand in the ambulance before they drove her off to surgery. Nolan owes Benson his life.

The thought alone makes him so nauseous he has to clench his eyes shut, jaw tight, entire body trembling. God, what would he have done? What will he do, if something happens to (Y/N)? She isn’t out of the woods yet and if something goes wrong, if her body decides to cave in, if the wound gets infected, if there’s something they didn’t catch, if, if, if, if–

He lifts his head and catches his wife’s face, lax and motionless. Once again, the panic settles. He hasn’t gotten the chance to let it unfold the way it needs to. 

“I finally got you on your own,” Nolan says, soft, careful not to disturb the semblance of peace in the room. (Y/N) doesn’t answer, no matter how badly Nolan wants her to. “You’re very popular. A tough one to find these days, you know.”

She wasn’t even supposed to be in today. Cragen had called mere hours after they’d gone to bed– at the same time for the first time in weeks– and Nolan had done his best to stay up after the phone rang and (Y/N) began quickly getting ready. She’d kneeled next to his side of the bed and Nolan had leaned in to kiss her without thought, an automatic notion he wishes he’d paid more attention to now. 

I’ll call you when I can, she nudged her nose against his temple before pressing a kiss there. Nolan had already been half asleep at that point. Love you.

Love you back, Nolan mumbled, jutting his chin forward blindly. One more. 

He continues as if (Y/N) had spoken. “You’ve got half of the NYPD out there waiting on you. The nurses are rioting, but I don’t think anyone’ll leave until you wake up.”

Nolan’s voice loses the battle, it breaks right at the end of his sentence and so does his composure, eyes burning with tears that for some goddamned reason just won’t fall.

“Please,” he begs to the sky, to God, to no one. “Please, please, please. Wake up.”

He presses his forehead to his wife’s limp hand maybe a little too harshly. Even if the skin is cold and her grip is nonexistent, the relief the touch brings Nolan has him sobbing.

An hour ago she was in surgery, out of reach and sight even if she was already getting help.

Three hours ago she was bleeding out in some alleyway in Queens, struggling for her radio to call for help. Seven hours ago she was kissing him goodbye, smiling against his mouth despite the dark nature of the sudden case because Nolan kept pulling her in for one more kiss.

One more, one more, one more, his pleads begs now. Wake up and give me one more, sweetheart, come on now.

“Please, honey,” he whispers, wet and nasal with emotion. “I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready yet, I didn’t– I don’t–”

The words don’t come. Nolan chokes, holds (Y/N)’s hand in his own, and breathes, breathes, and breathes. 

—

Life moves on. 

Nolan doesn’t cry. God knows why, but he can’t, his body on automatic while his mind solely focuses on (Y/N)’s condition. The nurses know him by name and he makes record time to the apartment and back to the hospital for showers and quick naps, some food for the little appetite he has. 

He doesn’t even think to be offended when his boss places him on indefinite leave. Nolan can’t bring himself to care, he would’ve stacked up every sick day and vacation time available to stay at (Y/N)’s side as much as he could anyway. 

The squad offers to stand guard almost daily, which Nolan appreciates, but his object permanence has gone to shit. Whenever he doesn’t have eyes on (Y/N) his panic rises again like a tidal wave, never quite crashing but dwindling whenever he sits next to her at the hospital, hand on her ankle or arm or somewhere he can easily look for her pulse, weak but steady. 

It’s desperate, he knows, and more than a little pathetic, but Nolan feels like he’s allowed. Until (Y/N) wakes up to tell him he’s been worrying over nothing he will do as he pleases.

He talks to her. It’s another coping method that borders on delusion but no one has called him out of it yet. Not even Liv and Amaro, who have caught him more than once speaking quietly into the lull of the hospital room, holding his wife’s hand and drawing soothing motions with his thumb against her skin.

Mom drove into the steps again. The ones in the driveway? They were already loose from last time and now she has Dad driving through every Home Depot in North Carolina to find the right match. 

Jill sends her best. Last time I saw her she was talking my ear off about her kid’s college fund. Apparently her husband lost half of it during Tuesday night with the boys, whatever that means.

Munch says he owes you 20 bucks from the Giants game from two weeks ago? Which is weird, because you haven’t watched a full game since, like, ‘02. Not like you’re missing anything, but still, your accuracy to outsmart Munch in his own line of work is pretty outstanding. 

It helps. Or it helps enough; whenever he ventures over what they’ll do once she’s awake and at home together the illusion breaks and so does Nolan’s voice. He trails off, feeling foolish, the weight of his delusion pressing on his chest.    

“It’s not silly,” Munch tells him during one of his visits, the book he’s been reading to (Y/N) resting on his lap. “It’s helpful and it doesn’t hurt anyone. You’re talking to your wife. If I’d done more of that back in my day then maybe I’d still be married.”

“To which one?” Nolan asks, his lips tingling with the want to almost smile.

Munch points at him as if saying yahtzee. “Exactly.”

He’s so sure it calms Nolan more than you’d expect. So far Munch is the only other person who talks about (Y/N) like she’s still alive and thus, the only one who doesn’t make inexplicable helpless rage wash over Nolan whenever they’re in the same room. 

He’s the one with him when (Y/N) wakes. She does so in a panic, waking Nolan up from his uncomfortable sleep in the chair next to her bed. It’s a sudden flail after another as her heart rate monitor goes crazy and she doesn’t answer any call of her name, terrified and in pain.

It’s awful. Nolan doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how she almost tears at her stitches mid her panic while doctors and nurses gather around her and kick Nolan out with quick accuracy. There’s nothing he can do to help and he knows it, but he’s never supposed to be in a position in which he can’t help her.

He’s doomed to watch from a glass window, helpless, as his wife suffers without anyone to reach out to.  

She woke up but had to be sedated, a nurse tells him after, it’s normal for patients to be unaware of their surroundings after waking up from long periods of unconsciousness. We still haven’t been able to determine neurological damage, so we’ll have to wait until it wears off. 

“Kid, kid, hey,” Munch says, oddly alarmed after coming back from the cafeteria with two coffees and finding Nolan sitting outside (Y/N)’s room, crying into his knees. “What’s wrong, what happened? I was gone for fifteen minutes–”

Nolan tries to explain but the words get caught up in his throat, his grief taking over his sense of logic. She woke up, he meant to say. She woke up and she didn’t know where she was and I stood by like an idiot to watch her suffer. 

After he’s talked down from a panic attack he says, voice a mere croak. “She woke up. They don’t know– but she woke up.”

Munch sighs, visibly relieved as he squats next to Nolan, squeezing his shoulder in support. “Good. That’s good, hey– Nolan. That’s good, okay? That’s one step closer to getting her back. This is good.”

He repeats those words to himself like a mantra. This is good, this is good, this is good, and doesn’t dare to close his eyes for something other than blinking until (Y/N)’s conscious. It’s hours later, deep into the night when she opens her eyes again, groggy and disoriented, blinking into the dark hospital room. 

“Honey,” he says, quiet and so, so relieved. (Y/N) doesn’t appear to hear him and a flash of fear seizes his heart. He presses the button and calls for a nurse, edging closer to the bed. “(Y/N/N). Hey, honey, you with me?”

Arduously slowly, (Y/N) follows the sound of his voice. She blinks at him, gulping and saying, dry as the Sahara. “Nole.”

It’s the most glorious thing he’s ever heard. The smile that pulls at his mouth is unconscious, ripped from him almost against his will. He goes to touch her face, hands shaky and reverent. “Yeah. Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me.”

He offers her a drink and grips her hand all through the nurse’s examination, which she passes with flying colors. While she’s tinkering with her IV, (Y/N) asks him, “Bellevue?”

“Yeah,” he says grimly, thumb rubbing soothing motions against her skin, trying to infuse some warmth. 

“Shot?” she wonders next.

Nolan hesitates. “You don’t remember?”

“Guessin’,” she slurs, tired, blinks getting longer each time she closes her eyes. 

The nurse pipes up then with the same explanations she’s given Nolan the past few weeks: the bullet to her heart, the long-lasting surgery, and the even longer coma. (Y/N) nods in all the right places but her head rests against the pillow and her expression remains blank, like she’s not retaining any information.

“Anyone… else?” she asks.

“No,” Nolan responds, watching how tension falls off her frame when he confirms this fact. He wishes he felt the same, a selfish part of him wishes it had been someone else; Liv or Amaro or Fin here in this hospital bed instead of his wife. It’s true, even if the thought is followed by guilt. “No, everyone’s fine, honey. Working their asses off and worried out of their minds, but okay. It’s just you.”

(Y/N) hums and then promptly falls back asleep, breaths settling into an even rhythm. It’s then that his eyes water and his tears fall on the scratchy hospital sheets where (Y/N) lays.  Oh, Nolan thinks, almost surprised by them. So this is what it takes.  

Nolan bows his head and lets himself cry in silence. His breath keeps hitching, and the nauseating feeling of panic he’s been nursing for weeks finally explodes. He can’t feel his hands and feet, body numb all over. 

The next time he looks up, hours later, is because (Y/N)’s reaching to touch his face, tender and shaky. He snaps to attention like a soldier called to his battalion, but there’s no trouble chasing after them, no bad thing happening for once. They’re okay, alone and safe in her hospital room while nurses and doctors and visitors keep passing by just outside the door.

“You haven’t slept,” (Y/N) croaks out as she drops her hand from where she’d been gently pressing at the bags under Nolan’s eyes, tired from that simple movement. Her chest rises and falls with breaths that are a little too labored, but her eyes are fixed on her husband, worried. “Nole.”

It almost makes him smile: (Y/N) worrying about other people while she lies with a hole in her heart on a hospital bed. Nolan would laugh if he were sure it wouldn’t immediately turn into crying again, but there’s nothing funny about this. Nothing.

“‘m alright,” he promises, weak and croaky and wet from previous cries. (Y/N) looks a little too out of it, but also like she doesn’t believe him for a moment. He amends: “I will be. And so will you. You’re gonna be okay, honey.”

happy new year!!! i wanted to start the year giving you a little something after being so absent the last couple of months and i've had this piece in my drafts for ages! it was originally waaay longer but i thought i'd end it on a happy note and maybe make a part two if anyone's interested?

anyway! i hope you guys enjoy what has become one of my favorite pairings to write and i hope you had a good time last night and a great 2024! thank you for reading!

<3

[shownusgfayoooo]

so my darling pt.1

Pairing: Seonghwa x f!reader

Genre/tropes: fluff JUST FLUFF, teasing

T/W: cussing a teensy bit, innuendo

Words: ~2k

my masterlist

You nervously brushed your palms down the front of your gown one more time before walking into the dorms where your boyfriend lived. You hadn’t had many occasions in your life to wear anything like it, and you had never shown off quite so much of your skin or the lines of your body before either. You did feel beautiful as soon as you had tried on the powder blue silk thing, of course, but that had been in the privacy of a dressing room and then that of your own apartment when you had been getting ready. Now that people were about to see you in something so different from what you usually wore, the nerves were pumping your heart that much faster.

Seonghwa had told you that the door was left unlocked for you to just walk in, but seeing the chaos that was happening across the living space suddenly made sense as to why that was. The living space that was the center of everyone’s rooms was in complete disarray. There were discarded clothes absolutely everywhere- a tie over the back of the couch, buttons strewn across the counter where someone had clearly been unsuccessful at sewing one onto a wrinkled shirt, coats and their hangers over the backs of chairs, and even socks of a dubious patten over the tv. Before your eyes could even adjust to all the mess (Seonghwa was going to have a fit), your ears were assaulted by the sounds of the guys yelling.

“Ya, Kim Hongjoon, did you take my silver rings?” Wooyoung’s screeching always took a minute to adjust to.

“DID YOU JUST TALK DOWN TO HYUNG?” San piped back.

“Oh, shit. He did just talk down to hyung.” Honestly, Yeosang was so soft spoken, you barely heard him add shit to the pot.

“Oh my fucking god, Wooyoung, talk down to me one more time, I swear I’ll leave you here.”

“You can’t do that! Manager hyung likes me the best- I can’t miss his wedding!”

“If you’re not ready in five minutes, hyung, you will have to.” Jongho’s voice was the only relaxed one you could pick out of the bunch.

“Has anyone seen my cufflinks?” You smiled, Yunho and his cufflinks- he had been talking about how excited he was to finally use them for ages.

“Mingi, for the last time, you are not wearing those cheap plastic princess earrings to a formal event.” The voice you had been wanting to hear from all day spoke.

“Aw, but I want to look pretty.”

You had been following the voices to one of the bedrooms where everyone was crowded, finishing up getting ready.

“And you do,” came the huffed response of your boyfriend.

“Same,” you answered at the same time.

Seonghwa looked up from where he was standing in front of the mirror, struggling with his tie to make eye contact with you through the mirror. His eyes widened before he whirled around, the flimsy knot he had managed falling apart immediately.

A small smile played at your lips but before you could greet anybody, let alone your boyfriend, the rest of the guys swarmed you.

“NOONA! SO PRETTY!” San was the first to hug you.

“Yeah, way prettier than Mingi, for sure.” Yeosang smirked at you.

“I can’t deny that.” Mingi’s pout was going to kill you, for sure.

“Ah, hi Y/N. You look so gorgeous!” Hongjoong greeted you while being quick to sweep to your side and push San and Wooyoung off from crushing your dress.

“I don’t think we can let you go to the wedding, Noona,” Yunho teased. “The bride will hate you.”

“Yea, for outshining her,” Mingi added.

You blushed and could only manage to say, “Stop it, you guys,” before Wooyoung interrupted everyone.

“Noona, tell Hongjoong hyung to give me back my rings.”

“Ignore him, Y/N. Only you and I clearly understand fashion, and I will not be sacrificing my look for his. Finders keepers!”

“Ignore all of them actually, noona,” Jongho added.

You laughed along with them. “Aw, stop fighting! You guys all look so cute! I love your little bowties!”

“It is fun to be matching, isn’t it?” San added with such vehemence, but when you looked at him, he was staring at Seonghwa intensely.

You looked at Seonghwa who was hanging back from the group, a faintly stunned expression on his face. When he noticed your gaze on him, he shook his head slightly, before turning to reply to San and shaking his tie at him.

“It’s not my fault you can all manage to tie a damn bowtie on yourselves but can’t do me!”

San pouted back at him, while everyone else muttered “Eh,” “Ah, well,” and “It’s the angle, hyung!”

“I can do you.” You said it quietly, but everyone turned to look at you.

At the blush starting to stain Seonghwa’s cheeks, you realized what you had said came out wrong.

“I MEAN, I can do it ON YOU! I mean, the bowtie, of course.”

You did not like the shit-eating grin on Hongjoong’s, Jongho’s, or Wooyoung’s face one bit. Yoesong looking pleasantly flustered only made you more flustered.

You continued babbling, “You said do me, so I said I could, but I MEANT THE TIE OBVIOUSLY.”

“Sure, sure, noona. We know what you meant,” Yunho said.

Everyone started shuffling out of the room. San patted you on the shoulder as he brushed by you, “Have at it, noona. Do him.”

"Yea, do him REAL GOOD." You were going to strangle Wooyoung one day.

You turned to smack him as he danced out of your reach, shutting the door behind him.

You turned back to Seonghwa, face burning. You both waited a beat before you could hear loud laughter from outside and cat calls.

Seonghwa grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him and into the room. “Ignore them,” he rolled his eyes.

You smiled back at him, when you suddenly realized that you were finally alone with your boyfriend in his room. Wearing this dress. Your nerves came fluttering back and settled in the pit of your stomach. You bit your lip and made to smooth your palms down the front of your dress again, before Seonghwa caught them in both of his and smiled at you softly and knowingly.

“You are so beautiful.” His voice was just a whisper across your cheek before his lips followed and pressed there. Your blush came back in full force, and you looked deeply into his beautiful brown eyes, seeing the absolute honesty and adoration there, quieting all your insecurities.

“Thank you. You look incredibly handsome if I do say so myself,” you cheesed back, poking his side.

“Thank you, baby. I’d believe you if it wasn’t for this damn tie. I’ve watched like 10 YouTube videos, trying to get it right.”

You slipped the silk from his grasp. “Leave it to me.” You had tied one too many a tie for your father, so it was like second nature to you.

Except, suddenly it wasn’t. You stepped even closer to Seonghwa in order to do his bowtie. The tension between your bodies felt electric and made it hard for you to focus. He was also too tall, as you had left your heels out at the entrance of the apartment. You struggled and reached up on your toes to get the silk around his neck, but it was impossible to do anything further without your legs cramping and your arms getting tired. Thus, you tugged the tie down as you went back to the balls of your feet, trying to get him to wordlessly accommodate himself to your level. He let out a surprised breath of air at the delicate manhandling, and at the shift in posture, his hands came up to hold your waist. Your eyes met his for a moment, and the intensity in his gaze had you warming up everywhere. You quickly dropped your gaze down to the tie you were supposed to be tying. Your fingers deftly turned the silk this way and that, but they suddenly slipped when Seonghwa’s thumbs began to rub at your skin gently through the thin material. You could feel his smirk more than you could see it, and he was definitely enjoying all the deep colors your face was probably turning right now.

Without looking back up at his eyes, you said under your breath, “You better behave.” Your finger slipped over the knot again.

His head bent to place a kiss behind your ear. Your breath hitched and you lost hold of the tie altogether. “Or what?”

“I.. will-” His lips were teasing a slow path across your jaw. Your hands were on his lapel. Where did that damn tie go?

“You will..?” He whispered in between kisses.

“I swear, Seonghwa, I’ll..”

His lips finished his path and hovered above yours. “You’ll still do me?”

You exhaled harshly and pushed at his chest. He leaned back, eyes alight with mischief. Your heart stuttered at the sight of his smile though; it was so sweet, that even though he was teasing you, you wanted to keep letting him- just to keep that smile on his face.

You huffed in mock annoyance. When had your hands rested on his shoulders and his arms wrapped around you, puling you flush against him?

You decided to fight fire with fire. “Only if you’re a good boy.” You raised one brow at him, pleased to see his smirk freeze in shock and his eyes widen.

The shock only lasted a second before he was hurriedly lowering his lips to yours. Banging on the door interrupted you both before they could meet.

“NOOOOOONA!” Wooyoung sang falsetto through the door, before his screech ended in a surprised “oof.” Jongho’s laugh could be heard retreating from the door after having successfully landed a punch on the former.

“I don’t wanna walk in on you doing him, Y/N, but we’re leaving now. I sincerely hope you guys are finished.”

You groaned. This joke was never going to die. Then your eyes widened at what he said. The tie still wasn’t done. You quickly pulled out of Seonghwa’s grasp, ignoring him making his boba eyes at you doing so, and leaned down to find the tie where it had fallen from your hands.

“Don’t just stand there, Hwa! And do not make that face at me. Help me find it!”

He sighed and crouched down, quickly finding it, before grasping you by the arm and pulling you both up.

“Here, do it fast.” He pushed the silk into your hands.

You glared at him suspiciously, wondering if there was a double entendre in his words or the guys were just driving you crazy, and he laughed, caught. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I won’t distract you anymore! See.” And with that, he closed his eyes and stood perfectly still.

You smiled at his antics and made quick work of the bowtie. When you finished, you stepped back, but he remained still and hunched down.

You smirked before reaching forward and placing the quickest peck on his lips. Two could play at the teasing game. His eyes flew open but before he could really catch you and give you a proper kiss, the door slammed open.

“AHH, MY EYES!”

“Mingi, we weren’t even doing anything!” The irritation in Seonghwa’s voice was clear.

“I see you did him, noona. Good job.” San peeked over Mingi’s shoulder, appraising the tie.

“Oh, she did him good?”

“Looks like it.”

“Damn, I didn’t even do me as good.”

“Same, I wish she did me, too.”

You smacked everyone upside the head as you walked out of the room, Seonghwa following right behind, glaring daggers with his eyes.

With you putting your heels back on (you did not miss the way Seonghwa’s eyes followed the movement of your hands doing the silk blue straps up your ankle), everyone was finally ready for the wedding.

[ill-say-anything-i-hafta]

I wrote a Jack & Crutchie story for @loiteringandlurking re: his post about Jack who is an amputee.

One-Handed

In the circulation yard, Crutchie watches the new kid with the knotted-up shirt sleeve, watches how he holds the top of his bag open with his stump and then shoves the papes in one-handed. Crutchie knows that dance; he's got two good arms himself, but one of 'em's always occupied. It ain't as easy as it looks.

Kid says his name is Jack. He's straight from a factory job -- by way of the charity hospital on Hudson Street -- and can't hawk a headline for shit, but he can tie a bootlace real tight, a hard-won skill he's clearly proud of. First, he does up the dangling lace on Crutchie's bad foot. Then he tackles the other side for good measure. Double knots on both scuffed boots. And Crutchie lets him. For once, he don't care who sees him getting help because it makes the guy so happy.

Crutchie lets Jack follow him around, too. Teaches him the ropes. Why not?

::::

August in the crowded dormitory bedroom, hot and airless. Most of the boys have stripped to their undershirts, including Jack, sprawled out on his bottom bunk. Crutchie glances quickly away from the place where his right forearm abruptly ends, the scar still red and angry, and looks down at the sketch slowly developing. A nighttime scene in a desolate place, a wolf howling next to twin pine trees, mountains in the background, a crescent moon riding overhead. Jack scratches his pencil along the wolf's back. His neck flushes with frustration. He still ain't used to drawing with his left hand.

"Looks real good," Crutchie says quietly.

Jack spits out the rubber eraser he's been holding in his teeth. It lands on his pillow and Crutchie waits for him to say something mean. But he only uses the eraser to rub at some of the smudges. "Not every day you gets to see talent like this up close, huh?"

::::

Someone sends word that Jack's old man is doing poorly, so he stops by with a carton of cigarettes he bought. The place is a tenement on Mulberry, prostitutes coming and going. Jack insists that Crutchie wait on the stoop to protect their pile of newly bought evening Worlds. He's back in less than ten minutes, looking slightly out of breath.

"If he lives so close, how come you don't stay with him?"

"Well, I used to," Jack says, though that don't answer the question at all.

"He hit ya?"

"Nah, never." Jack seems to realize he's walking too fast and slows his pace. "Sorry. I think maybe ... I think seein' me makes him feel bad. So I just don't go by there too much."

Crutchie knows exactly what Jack means, and it makes him mad. He stops in the middle of the street to call the headline to an old woman in a kerchief. Jack waits, lighting a cigarette one-handed, while Crutchie juggles his crutch to make change. "You's still a kid," he says. "Your pops should be helpin' you out. If he ain't gonna do that, the least he could do is be proud of how good you is doin'."

"He don't need to be proud. I's just livin my life," Jack says. "Not everybody's gonna understand." He slings his good arm around Crutchie's shoulders. "But I got you."

::::

Ladies like Crutchie. They always have. They want to help him; they buy his papes and sometimes they gives him food and things. But it's girls that like Jack Kelly -- girls their same age.

And Jack seems to like them back, too. He'll pick someone out special to pass the time with, take her to the music halls -- he can sell a hundred twenty papes on a good day and always burns through his money -- draw pictures for her, tell her all about the Wild West. When the boys at Duane Street tease him, Jack tells them to shut up: this is the one.

Somehow, none of them girls ever is. But when it ends, Jack don't seem too heartbroken. Nothing bothers Jack, nothing Crutchie has ever seen.

Maybe he is the wolf in the picture. Maybe he is the moon.

Seems awfully lonesome.

::::

When Jack talks about New Mexico, Crutchie can't help but worry. He's been working to support himself ever since he was eight, but he's only ever done the kind of jobs people think a cripple can do. Who says anybody would hire guys like them them for farm labor?

Jack hooks his right arm over the top rung of the fire escape ladder and reaches his hand down to take the crutch. He says, "We'll just hafta show 'em, pal. We can find a way to do most anything we wants to. Can't we?" And he pulls Crutchie up behind him.

They stand together on top of the world. No mountains, no majestic pines. Just them and the buildings that crowd all around them, the landscape of the city where he was born. Life ain't fair; he's always knowed that. But in this moment, Crutchie thinks what Jack says might be true.

Because he ain't never felt sorry for Jack, not for a minute. Why would he? Maybe there is folks out there who won't feel sorry for him neither, who will see him for all that he is.

FIN.

[iconuk01]

So You've Kidnapped Your Robin... What Next?

As an up and coming villain, you've captured your Robin. Well done!

It was likely to be less challenging than you expected it to be, as it happens a LOT, but you've still managed quite the accomplishment, so take a moment to congratulate yourself.. but make sure you've tied him up first, as many a nascent criminal career has been reduced to a one shot appearance by gloating instead of securing... As we say in these circles: "Be kind, rebind"... though I suspect that's showing our age these days.

So... now you have to decide what to do with the Teen Wonder.

Was the capture part of a plan? Or were you just winging it? Be honest, we won't judge.

Either way in your, now hopefully well secured, Robin you have a very aesthetically pleasing captive. Classically handsome, brightly coloured outfit (very useful for brand recognition) and clearly has never missed leg day in his life...

His mere reluctant presence is guaranteed to brighten any lair up, even if you just have him drugged and tied up on the floor...

Or bound and gagged in a corner... there are few who can match the Teen Wonder for radiating "pissed off damsel" vibes when he's being held captive.

If you, or your current crime spree, have already picked a theme, then we'd actively encourage you to make him part of it. He's got the RANGE!

If it's your birthday, tie him to a giant incendiary candle.

If you're going for a puppet gimmick, then the colourful costume makes for a perfect centrepiece...

Even for old-school classics like running a coven of devil worshippers, again, he can fits right into your evil scheme..

If it's just straightforward torture you're into (A little gratuitous perhaps, but there are worse things), then he has more than enough style of his own to make it work

And any off-the-cuff, impulsive, murder attempt can be livened up if your target is a brightly oufitted, acrobatic hero.

An old favourite is to make him part of your grander plan to torment Batman, whether it's a spur of the moment decision to use random giant props you have lying around

Or maybe as a distraction so you can flirt/fight with Batman

Or a complex plan to drive Batman insane with fake murders of Robin leading up to the real thing, your Teen Wonder will make a fine addition to your scheme whether in terms of quantity

or quality.

So never be afraid to use him to maximum advantage.

Of course, by now the more perceptive of you might have wondered how he can be put into so many different predicaments AND STILL BE AROUND!

This is a fair question and, as you might soon discover, has a fairly obvious answer: He's been in so many traps, because he's gotten OUT of so many traps! Batman often helps...

As do the Titans...

.. but he's resourceful and skilled enough to get out of a great many different varieties of restraint by himself.

So, in summary, our advice with your kidnapped Robin is this:

Make sure he's properly tied up before you do anything else! (Have you checked the knots on the ropes you used since you started reading this article? You might want to do that now... we'll wait.).

Make the most of your Robin for your high profile criminal advantage whilst you have him. (Don't take any other kind of advantage, that'd just be tacky. Supervillains may be criminals, and sometimes homicidal maniacs, but we have standards!)

Don't feel too bad if you don't manage to kill him. You won't be the first, you won't be the last.

If you DO manage it, congratulations! Though you now have every member of the JLA, Teen Titans and BATMAN after you... good luck with THAT!

So, even if he escapes, remember that with the Boy Hostage, there will ALWAYS be a next time!

[shcyc]

! ONE MORE

CW; food & temperature play (wine, ice), slight bondage (tie), oral — receiving

kuroo tetsurō thinks may be blessed by the gods, especially with you trembling and chanting his name beneath him as if your life depends on it — thoughts of how cute you look while trying not to focus on the ice cube sliding down your body flood his mind

today is all about you! making you feel good and trying new things, about exploring and learning more about yourself for the both of you so he can love you better

so you keep your 'complaints' to yourself as he ties his abandoned tie around your wrist, holding your body in place as he leans down, pink tongue peeking out of his mouth to circle the ice cube, leaving hot trails of his breath on your shivering body

food and temperature play was never something you wanted to try, especially because it could be a waste of food and a hassle to clean everything up — but when your boyfriend suggests trying something new for a change, you agree, knowing that he'll make you feel good like he always has

kuroo groans as he leans in closer, mouth bringing the already melting ice to your chest, tongue swirling both the ice and your nipples, making it harden almost instantly at the erotic way he does it

it's only the beginning, and you're already a panting mess from his tongue and ice — your gaze falls to your boyfriend, who is so intent on making you feel good that he hasn't even taken off his suit, the growing tent in his pants extremely obcious as he holds himself up with his arms at either side of you

he drags a new piece of ice down your abdomen, your body heating up once more at the colder temperature on your warm skin, and kuroo laughs as your hips buck up into the air, looking for any kind of friction to soothe the itching ache between your legs, so close yet so far

the bed dips when he shifts himself to a kneeling position, the ice crunching in his mouth as you look up to meet the devlish glint in his eyes – the smell of wine soon fills the room as you watch him open a bottle before taking a swig

"bet it'll taste better here."

kuroo pours the red liquid onto your lower body, the sensation of cool wine sliding between your legs makes you whine — he pulls your legs apart before sinking low again, leaving kisses and bite marks on your inner thighs, clearly avoiding where you want him the most

"tetsu, please— can't take it anymore ..." your hips wiggle helplessly in his grip, begging him to just eat you out, and you know he loves it when you beg and tell him what you want

"don't mind if I do."

he laughs before finally pressing his face against your dripping core, tongue attacking your clit with licks and sucks followed by the occasional swirling, moans of his name bounce off the walls as you try to keep yourself grounded by digging your fingers into your palm, your body reacting in the exact opposite way you want it to by pushing yourself further into his mouth, the feeling just too good to let go, as embarrassing as it is

you can tell how much your boyfriend is enjoying the situation because he doesn't seem to move, even when your heels dig into his back to try and get him to stop, your words flying right by his ears — your orgasm was approaching and you don't think it's a good idea for him to keep going, but he doesn't care, not when he knows you're close and about to do something you've never done before

the knot in your abdomen tightens even more as his tongue applies even more pressure on your clit, fingers never stopping inside your cunt, the pads of his fingers brushing deliciously on your sweet spot — you relax into the overwhelming sensation as you let go, releasing the knot inside you so delectably that you pass out for a second

you regain consciousness after a while and watch as your boyfriend looks at you in awe, this is the first time you've squirted and it won't be your last; you shift your body back away from him a little, knowing exactly what he's thinking — but what else can you do but yelp and give in when he smirks and pulls you towards him barely using any strength, easily hooking your legs over his shoulders before going down on you once again

"you can give me another one, right princess?"

[terrainofheartfelt]

okay could you do dair 23 or 26

Dair + 23 …in relief.

(there was another request for dair + 26 so that shalt be answered later <3)

(in the meantime, some 5x24 canon divergence as self care <3)

Dan knocks back the shot Serena hands him with a wince. Tequila. Whenever Dan shoots tequila he makes ill-advised choices. Which is why for his birthday two weeks ago, he and Blair drank Manhattans before feeling each other up in the bar bathroom. 

Whiskey goes with Blair, warm but harsh, sweet and sharp, burns down through his chest like being in love. Tequila is dangerous. Tequila is…well…Serena. 

“Okay, okay, time-out,” Dan pleads, making a T with his hands, trying in vain to referee his own life.  

Serena laughs, her smile glinting around a wedge of lime. “Don’t give up on me now, Dan. I never took you for a lightweight.” 

He snorts. “Yeah, well, anyone’s a lightweight when they ingest tequila on an empty stomach.” 

He hasn’t eaten all day. He couldn’t make himself. His stomach has been twisted up in knots ever since those fucking Gossip Girl blasts. He’d stupidly thought that drinking would help, but it’s only made it worse. 

Serena pats his shoulder sympathetically. “There’s food around here somewhere. I’ll flag someone –” 

She lifts her arm, and despite his compromised state, Dan is able to spot the danger. He stumbles backward and pulls Serena with him, out of the way of a passing waiter, narrowly saving the both of them from being doused by an entire bottle of champagne. 

“Whoa,” he brilliantly comments, then reflexively drops his hands from Serena’s arms to his sides, releasing her.  

She only steps closer, looking at him with concern. “You okay?”

He chokes on an hysterical laugh, because no, he is clearly not, and suddenly everything in the party becomes too much. The noise, the people, the terrible music, the lighting, the dense, cloying air of a hundred over perfumed American aristocrats, and is he that drunk or is Serena still extremely close to him?

“Uh – yeah.” He rakes a hand through his hair—it’s so hot in here that he wishes he could chop it off now, or at least have a hair tie on his wrist like Jenny always does. “I just – I need some air.” 

He takes a step back, and Serena immediately follows him. “I’ll come with you.” 

“No, Serena –” he snaps, then catches himself, his stomach does a violent flip. Personal space has never been much of a thing with them, even as friends, but now Dan feels on the precipice of something dangerous. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna puke. And I know that dress you’re wearing is worth more than my book deal, so –” he waves a vague hand, and turns and walks away before Serena can protest again.   

Dan ends up on the sidewalk in front of Grand Central. Given the spring humidity and all the city smells that come with it, the air outside the Campbell isn’t much better, but at least out here Dan can be alone for a moment. 

He knows she means well, but Serena’s hovering only makes him feel worse, like she’s already decided what choice Blair is going to make. 

Dan supposes if anyone were qualified to weigh in on Blair’s choices, it would be Serena. But no, Blair hasn’t really let Serena know her for a long time now, and maybe Dan is partially to blame for that, but — he’s too drunk to follow this thread right now. 

He leans back against the wall to steady himself. He’s already out here, public transportation hub at his back, it would be pretty easy to make a getaway, spare him the humiliation of waiting around for the rest of the night. 

But, what if?

He tips his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Too many trains of thought, too much tequila to chase them down. 

“Dan?”

He wrenches his eyes open. No way. 

“Oh thank god,” he mutters, pushing himself off the wall and into Blair’s arms, pouring all the relief he can’t speak into a kiss. 

“Mm – Dan,” she pulls back, but holds her grip on his lapels, keeping him close. She wrinkles her nose, impossibly cute, and he loves her. “You taste like a distillery.” 

He loves her. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, tipping his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist. 

“I’m so, so sorry,” he repeats unevenly, apologizing for more than just the tequila breath. For being drunk now, for serving her that stupid ultimatum, for nearly giving up on his end of it, for saying too much and scaring her off. 

“It’s fine,” Blair says with a long-suffering sigh as she twines her arms around his neck. “I love you anyway.”

Dan gapes at her, dumbstruck. Blair Waldorf has a singular talent of rendering him speechless. “You’re gonna have to tell me that again when I’m sober.”

She giggles and pulls him in to kiss him again, distillery be damned.

[laundrybiscuits]

Hey hey adoring battleship move incoming, so how about: 16 for that Spotify prompt? Hope life (the move? There was talk about a move I think?) Is treating you well!

can you tell I’ve been posing / this way alone for hours / waiting for your affection / waiting for you

Steve had still been feeling pretty stupid until maybe five or ten minutes ago. He’s not sure exactly what happened, but something had shifted right around the time he’d realized it was too late to get everything untied and put away before Eddie was due back. Even if he changes his mind right now, he won’t have enough time to hide the evidence. There’s no backing out of this anymore.

It’s not his usual kind of thing. None of this is. He doesn’t do any of this, normally.

But someone had donated a bag of VHS tapes to the library, and Steve got assigned to go through them, and there had been one—

It hadn’t looked that difficult, and he’d told himself he was just curious. He’s always been good with his hands, so how tough could some knots be? 

Pretty tough, as it turns out, but manageable. He works through the basic ties pretty quickly, and he’s still flexible enough to do a lot of it himself, even though the video is very clearly meant for someone to do on someone else. 

The idea is…not unappealing. As he works through securing his ankles in a messy double-column tie, it’s easy to start thinking about what it might be like to loop the rope around someone’s wrists and pull it snug. Yeah, he could see why people might like that kind of thing. It takes a lot of trust, right? There’s no way to laugh it off, when someone hands you that kind of control. It’d be exactly like saying I can take it, I want to take it. Whatever you want to give me. 

And that’s when he gets the idea.

It takes a little more preparation and a shopping trip, because he can already tell that the random stuff he’s been using to try different knots isn’t going to be comfortable enough for what he’s planning. Plus, he likes the idea of getting something that’ll look good on his skin. Something that makes people want to touch.

By this point, he’s stopped pretending that this is anything other than what it is: a hail-mary, last-ditch attempt to get Eddie Munson’s hands on him again. 

He doesn’t try for anything too advanced, just the easiest harness on the tape and a frog tie holding his legs into a kneeling position. He practices the whole thing all together a couple times and it seems to go okay. He wastes some rope early on when he fucks up a knot so bad he has to shuffle all the way to the kitchen and grab some scissors to cut it, but it’s fine, he’d bought enough silky blue rope to tie a dozen harnesses at once. It had been way too expensive for freaking rope, but it had looked so much better than the hemp that he’d handed over the cash without a second thought. 

He doesn’t try cuffs or a collar. It’s not—the cuffs feel okay, actually; the rope is soft and snug, and he can glance down any time and see how good the blue looks looped around his wrists. But he struggles to get them tied evenly when he’s one-handed, and he doesn’t want it to look sloppy. 

Eddie likes effort. It’s a weird thing to notice about a friend, even a friend you might’ve hooked up with a couple times. It’s pretty obvious, though; Steve watched him run a game for the kids once, and promptly decided never to watch again. 

Eddie throws all of himself into the game, all the time. It’s so much work. Steve’s seen the pages and pages of notes he keeps in his ragged binders, the way he commits to acting out all the different characters even when he sounds objectively dumb, how he gets so caught up in the moment that he’ll climb up on the goddamn table. Eddie never holds back.

He demands a lot from his players, too. They can fail. But even in that one game that Steve watched, it was obvious that Eddie doesn’t want them to fail; he just wants them to win while struggling against the toughest possible challenge. He wants to find their limits, and then push just a little to find their real limits. 

Nothing’s happened with Eddie since before Steve saw that stupid game, but now it’s all mixed up in his head. He keeps thinking about how Eddie had crowded close, hands hovering and light, darting in and then away again; he keeps thinking about what it would be like to hear Eddie’s voice sound the way it does when he’s telling his players off, firm and deep, as he put his hands wherever he wanted on Steve. 

So that’s what Steve’s been thinking about lately. 

And it’s why he’s here on Eddie’s bed, frog-tied and wearing a rope harness that he wishes he’d done a little fancier, because he thinks Eddie would appreciate that. Every time he’s tried a fancier harness it’s gone wrong or looked weird, though, so this will have to do. He hopes it’s enough. 

He’s not worried about it, exactly, because all of that stuff seems far away and smoothed over right now. He can remember worrying about a bunch of stuff, like whether he should be wearing clothes or not. He’d settled on just underwear because it had seemed a little too vulnerable to go without, but now that he’s all settled and feeling pretty good, he thinks that was a dumb thing to worry about.

Despite the weird way Eddie’s been avoiding him lately, Eddie had really seemed to like his dick at least twice before, so even if it’s not anything more for Eddie—even if dick is the only thing Eddie wants from Steve—he should get to have it. Eddie should get whatever he wants.

Steve shuts his eyes. He fills his lungs all the way, feeling the harness grip him a little tighter, and he exhales slowly.

He waits for the door to open.

Send me a number between 1-100 and I'll write a ficlet based on the corresponding song from my Spotify Wrapped! It will definitely be gay and may possibly be musical theater

[i-didnt-do-1t]

cw: violence

Morris wasn’t afraid.

He had been repeating that phrase to himself for as long as he could remember. At some point it had to become true, and if it didn’t then he would continue to do what he had done the rest of his life and ignore it and make himself the threat.

Morris wasn’t afraid of Oscar.

But when he got like this, silent, and slamming doors and grinding his jaw so hard that Morris could almost hear his teeth against eachother, he wondered what it would take for that to be turned on him instead.

Oscar held his anger the same way their father had, in the tense line of his shoulders and flexing hands and flared nostrils. (This was all their da had ever given them.)

It didn’t take long for their da’s anger to turn on him, the myriad of scars lining his back served as enough of a reminder without the familiar crease in Oscar’s forehead.

He wasn’t afraid, but he knew it was best to clear out of the way and let his anger run it’s course except he also knew it was something that never really ran dry.

(He was his da’s son, too.)

It was difficult when they shared a room. Morris liked the door open, Oscar liked it closed.

Tonight, Morris didn’t say anything when Oscar slammed it shut, the echo reverberating around the bare walls and even Weasel didn’t yell in complaint. It must’ve been bad.

Morris watched his face as he roughly grabbed the top of his tie, pulling it off like he would rather be knotting a noose.

Morris knew a lot of things, knew what the flex of his left hand meant, you knew what the twitch of the side of lip meant, knew what his silence meant.

But he didn’t know how to avoid it, how to placate it, because that was never the type of education he got on the farm, or in the refuge. He learnt to bare his teeth and push back harder and to not let them see him flinch because he wasn’t afraid.

But Oscar, when he was like this-

“Stop fucking staring at me.”

“I’m not.”

He pulled off the tie, threw it on his bed, still unmade from earlier that day, a tangle of itchy sheets and a single lumpy pillow.

He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and Morris was just quick enough to avoid his gaze, fixing his eyes on the roof instead, but he can still feel Oscar’s gaze on him, weighted and piercing.

“What the hell are you holding?”

Fuck. Usually his rosary beads weren’t a problem, tonight they clearly were.

“Three guesses.” He says, and his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth.

Oscar scoffs, starts on his buttons, practically pops them rather than undoing them. “You know it’s bullshit right? There’s no all seeing bastard looking down on everyone and if there is he sure as hell don’t give a fuck about us.”

“Yeah you’ve said.”

He thinks, maybe, that the wait is the worst part. That’s what it was with Snyder, this known unknown, in the way that you knew the hit would sting across your cheek because Snyder hit hard and back handed but you never knew when.

Oscar feels like he’s simmering. He feels like that wait between knowing the hit is coming and letting it concuss you.

Morris thinks, maybe, that he wants it to reach boiling point, at least then he can chose to scold his hand in the water.

His wrist is grabbed with too tight, too cold fingers and his rosary beads are untangled from around his knuckles before he even gets the chance to backtrack.

It hits the wall hard.

It scatters across the floor and under his bed and Oscar’s breaths are heaving, measured things. His hand is still clamped around Morris’s wrist and he pulls out of his grip like he’s been burnt and he knows he’s only able to pull away because Oscar let’s him.

Morris is no stranger to anger either, feels it curl in his gut as he eyes one of the single beads that has rolled to a stop next to Oscar’s feet.

“You wanna pray you can go do it with the crip.” Oscar spits.

(Morris is their da’s son, too)

“What? It remind you too much’ve when da forced you to kneel and say the Hail Mary a hundred times over?”

Morris was good at making people angry, Snyder used to say he was like a dog, used to unleash him on other kids to keep them in line. When others hit first it gave him a reason to hit back harder.

But he needs Oscar to boil over because he can’t keep living around this simmering. Can’t keep sharing a room with it. Can’t keep the door closed just to keep Oscar happy because eventually the walls close in so much he finds it difficult to breathe.

The hit that lands is hard and backhanded.

Oscar learnt from the best.

If this wasn’t exactly what he was aiming for Morris would’ve hit back. Would’ve aimed for his lower right rib where some guy managed to hand it to him in a back alley last week before Oscar pulled out his brass knuckles.

“Do you think you’re better than me?” Oscar says and his voice is harsh and rough, and he looks like a mess with the amount of times he’s obviously run his hand through his hair and the top half of his shirt unbuttoned.

Morris brings a hand to his nose and it comes away red.

When he looks up from his fingers, tasting iron in the back of his throat, Oscar’s forehead is creased.

He doesn’t say anything, waits for Oscar’s hand to curl back to his side, teeth grinding again.

This time Oscar looks away first.

The water has stilled again.

Tomorrow night, Morris is going to leave the door open a crack.

(He still feels that curl in his gut and he knows Oscar doesn’t feel bad because their skin was toughed to a leather a long time ago but he hopes at least that his knuckles hurt)

…

If Morris is on his knees tomorrow muttering Hail Marys under his breath as he hunts for the individual beads and shoves them in his pockets then Oscar doesn’t need to know.

[mrcspectr]

You may have answered this before but, why do you think Jake wears gloves?

Oh my dear Anon, I have talked about this loads but don't you worry. Never would I miss an opportunity to talk about Mr. Lockley, not ever.

I think the gloves must've started as something more akin to personal preference. A characteristic I always found interesting about Jake is that when we do finally meet him, he's dressed very professionally. His shirt is buttoned to the collar, the tie knotted neatly at his neck. A skill accomplished by a practiced hand. (Makes me wonder how he was taught, and by whom. Or if that was something he'd managed on his own.) His pants have clearly been pressed, his jacket well kept. His belongings are kept somewhere, and regularly maintained. (Which dry cleaner in town has an account under the name Marc Spector? Always pays in cash but never leaves a number, insisting he'll be back when it's ready and he needs it but somehow, always, notoriously late by days. Sometimes weeks. He always tips well, though, so they can't really complain.)

His hat is pulled low over his face, casting a shadow. Giving him some semblance of anonymity, and arranged with intent. And the gloves.. well. The gloves give him a purpose; they're specifically designed for him as driving gloves. Their addition to his wardrobe is personal and they represent his work, what he does. (For himself, for others? For both, most likely.) Dark, pristine leather, no cracks or flaws from wrist to fingertips. The crescent moons the defining detail, making them his. Everything he wears pushes him to the background, a humble driver, a man with a job, but this? These gloves make him Jake, make him important. They're defining to him in a world in which he's not allowed much importance, much identity.

Everything neatly in its place on his person, and staying that way throughout his job. Not once do we see a blood stain, or anything out of sorts. Honestly, if you ran into him on the streets of London, post-hospital, you probably wouldn't suspect a thing, and he's sure to keep it that way. Appearances mean something to him, in some fashion. Which is quite the contradiction to a man kept secret from those closest. The gloves a part of this distinction, making him different from them.

Eventually, I think the gloves might move on to being something more practical for him as well. These types of gloves are meant to reduce impact and cushion against vibration of the steering wheel, mainly during longer drives. For a man awake at all hours of the night, driving through the city streets, it would be beneficial to keep the strain on the body to a minimum, as not to incite Marc and Steven's suspicions further after the fact. Protection for his own hands as the man that holds the gun, the knife. Not only that, but the gloves would prevent Jake from leaving fingerprints, keeping all traces of him away from prying eyes. Able to slip in and out, unnoticed, continuing Khonshu's work without the danger of being caught. Preventing him from adding to Marc's already extensive criminal record.

I hope that someday he takes them off. And I don't mean that negatively, or to take anything away from what I feel is part of his identity right now. But I think a lot of what those gloves represent is a seperation between what is his life and what is now Marc and Steven's. Jake deserves to be defined not just by what he wears and why, but by what he does and for who. To know there is an importance to him and his choices, even if the other two don't understand them just yet. Maybe Steven puts them away and they never get them back out again, maybe Marc holds on to them as they remember better times, memories they could share between each other that don't cut as deeply. Maybe they thank him, finally, as they tell him this dark chapter of his life is over. That they see him, now, and that it's okay.

I hope that someday he doesn't need the gloves or what they mean for him anymore.

[dreamkidddream]

Hey, Dream! How are you?

If it's ok, could I have Lucifer + "massaging their shoulders when they clearly had a long day"?

I’m pretty good and I hope you’re the same (if not better!) :) reader is gender neutral!

CW: a bit suggestive towards the end, but still fluffy!

You aren’t surprised that Lucifer is so tense.

Just feeling the knots so deep into his shoulders has you cringing, and you’re glad he can’t see your expression from behind. When was the last time he ever got a chance to truly relax? Probably never, you thought.

But you could feel the tension slowly leaving his body beneath your fingers, and you can see how he’s slowly melting in the chair. The sigh that leaves his lips has you both proud and a warm feeling bubbling in your stomach. He looks…at peace, like any of his worries before are slipping away bit by bit.

You know firsthand that Lucifer can be high strung due to the stress in his daily life. Watching over his brothers each day, being Lord Diavolo’s right hand man, playing a key role in making sure the Devildom isn’t left in ruin- to oversee so many responsibilities can take a toll on anyone, even the mighty first born himself. The bags growing underneath his eyes showed how much he was being worn down, and no matter how much he tried to assure you that he was fine, you couldn’t believe it when his own crimson eyes said otherwise.

Which is why you wanted to help in your own way.

You couldn’t help him with much of his work, but the least you could do was help him unwind and get his mind off of the pile of paperwork collecting on his desk. It took a bit to convince him, until he felt your fingertips directly on his shoulder blades, the sensation hitting him almost instantly.

A low groan slipped past his lips, “You didn’t have to do this, MC.”

“I wanted to, Luci. You deserve it.”

His hum turned to a chuckle, sinking further into your hold. You’ve gotten good at reading Lucifer, enough to know that you both fueled his pride and touched his heart. He truly did appreciate this, both physically and emotionally going by the genuine small smile gracing his features.

It seemed as if time flew by before he cleared his throat and stood up, coming to his sense and snapping back to his usual rigid form. But to see Lucifer become so undone was a sight you were hoping to see more. Tie loose, hair a bit disheveled, a red tint settled on his cheeks- a sight to behold indeed, and gone too soon.

But you couldn’t admire him for long, as you soon found yourself being gently pulled in the very same chair. Staring up into Lucifer’s half-lidded eyes, you started to question what exactly he was doing- until you felt him pull you back in the seat, his own fingertips delicately brushing the nape of your neck, sliding up until he reached and lifted up your chin.

Peeling off his gloves, he gazed down at you, scarlet polish gleaming underneath the lights but not taking your attention away from the smirk adoring his lips. The drop of his tone and the look in his eyes only made the heat spread rapidly throughout your body, and your anticipation of what to come grow even more.

“Allow me to return the favor.”

[hellbornhades]

(SUMMER)

As summer began to make its way, the couple had a lot to prepare for, especially in terms of finances. They were able to remodel the inside of their home and finally make a plan for their wedding, but that involved using a bit of their savings, so they're funds are pretty low.

With their new financial situation, Jaylah thought it was time to publish her books. She wasn't expecting fame to come out of it though… but boy does she make it look good.

And of course after a few days of being in the limelight, Jaylah had to admit, being famous wasn't as fun as she had hoped… yes she's finally being noticed by her job as a writer.. but now she's got to put more effort into everything she writes.

Just a few more days, and I'll be off of work for my wedding and honeymoon, Jaylah thought to herself.

During the next day, Travis was finishing some Wedding preparations while Jaylah slept, he just so happened to spot one of Jaylah's stans, waiting for her outside.

He grumbles to himself: "Got damned Sim stans… figuring out where we live… I told Jay not to give out too many autographs."

Travis decided he would handle this himself and let Jaylah rest, she's been working nonstop to produce a new bestseller on top of planning a wedding and just didn't want to add this to her plate.

Travis: "Look, I don't know who you are or how you found our home, but you need to go. Jaylah is just like any other Sim, she works and eats and has hobbies outside of this fame she's started to gain, just like the rest of us. Now, can you respectfully climb back down the hole you came from before I call the cops!"

Random Stan: "Oh, I uh… look at the time? I must be on my way!"

Despite Jaylah's newly developed fame and how hectic things had started to become for the two, the couple still had their eyes looking forward to making the best of their wedding day.

.

(The Next Day)

.

It was officially Jaylah and Travis' big day. After careful planning and much preparation, the wedded-couple-to-be reserved their wedding at a secluded and quiet spot in Sulani.

Excited was an understatement, these two have been dying to tie the knot ever since they made their relationship official.

Now standing face to face, Jaylah could swear her heart was beating so loudly that maybe even Travis could hear. Jaylah took Travis' hand and smiled, taking a slow, deep breath and began to recite her vows.

Jaylah: "Low and behold, it's finally the day of our union. The day our lives become one forever. It's one thing to talk about a life together and another thing to truly jump in and get our feet wet; to go forth and set our new lives in motion. Today, this very day, will be the start to our forever life."

Travis could no longer hide his giddy, nervous excitement, occasionally erupting into giggling fits like that of a teenage girl.

Jaylah smiled, continuing on: "Words are beautiful, but actions are what holds so much more meaning. Memories may fade and be forgotten, but together we can always create new ones. The past will always be important, but the future holds so many unforeseen possibilities. With all meaning and sincerity, I will love you forever and ever, Travis. Even when our vessels are returned to the Earth."

Travis took Jaylah's hand and started his vows, gently pushing the ring up her finger: "Gosh, I wish my vows were even close to being as beautiful as yours, but you, my dear, have always been poetic with your words. However, my eyes have never seen so clearly as it has since I've met you. The path I walked once complicated and rocky, has now grown smooth and clear of obstacles with you by my side. Often times, I wonder if I am floating. When I close my eyes, I dream of you and only you, just to awaken to see your beautiful face still fast asleep. My ears have never heard anything as sweet as the day I heard your voice say 'I love you.' My soul has found it's other half and I'm so eternally grateful that it's you, Jaylah."

.

.

.

[Wedding Day – Part 1]

.

.

.

❣ previous post || begining post || next post ❣

[madewithonerib]

Hearing GOD is a Life | Dallas Willard & Richard Foster

You are an unceasing spiritual being with an eternal destiny in GOD's great universe.

1.] More than Guidance

Dallas in this session we're working on hearing GOD in the context of life: The life that GOD gives our lives, as we learn to live them in context with this light.

Now I want to take you way back 40 years ago, when you were teaching a little ragtag group of people, and taking us through the Book of Acts.

And you & the SPIRIT working together together came up with this sentence. I mean helping us see how acts fits in the larger picture.

      The sentence was the aim of GOD in history       is the creation of an all-inclusive community       of loving persons with GOD HIMSELF at the       very center of that community.

      As its prime sustainer & most glorious inhabitant

Remember that?

I remember that. I'm glad you wrote it down because I couldn't say that in one sentence if my life depended on it. Well it was a wonderful sentence.

And it kind of captured that whole sense & the flow into how the Book of Acts fits into that—but then of course you were not just teaching the Books of Acts.

You were teaching the whole Bible & the whole of our lives & how it all fits together. Yes then years later we were working on a Bible Project & you came up or you worked with..

We were struggling with this whole concept of the unity of the Bible—which you know, when you theologians, they're going to tie themselves into all kinds of knots about this big seminary topic.

I know it & yeah, you came up with that phrase:

      The with GOD life, as the unity of the Bible       it was just like whoa so now talk with us a       little bit about that in terms of the sweep of       Holy History—from Genesis to Revelation

      In about four & a half minutes

Dallas: Ought to be possible, the speed of the SPIRIT.

Richard: On the with GOD life

1.1] Biblical Memory Lane

DW:  Yes, well you see from the very beginning that           GOD has placed human beings in positions of           responsibility, and we actually have no way of           discerning the degree of responsibility and           power that Adam & Eve had in the garden. 

          But it was a position of great responsibility cause           it clearly says in Genesis 1, we take charge of the           fish & all the other living things.

So you know the green ethic that we talk about today is right there in Genesis 1, & obviously much bigger than we can manage indeed.

I would have trouble just with the trout.

I don't know how to handle them I must say & there's a lot of other things & it winds up with creeping things.

Yes I don't know if I want to, well you know [touch them] maybe if you only had to speak to them, right. You know, as Agnes Sanford create by speaking, she could tell the bees to go away & they would go.

I know I like that way of working with them.

So it must have been a great response the mosquitoes have never been very [compliant] I think they must have got here after the fall.

But in any case, it was a situation where there was great responsibility & great power & interestingly distance—& this is crucial to the whole story.

And when we look at the woeful path of human history, we we wonder where is GOD? I think the answer is well the real question is where is man?

He's away from GOD & that's his choice

GOD hasn't left him alone, but now you see GOD showing up in the garden & apparently they were on very friendly terms at that point..

But still HE would come & visit & then obviously give them some distance, a little space and that

sense of GOD when man disobeys GOD, HE’s hiding HIMSELF from us

So that we can fight from GOD that's exactly right

And that's crucial to the plan of GOD in human history to bring that community out of human history which is almost nothing compared to time

Yeah it's extremely short & who knows what else HE has in mind in this great universe that HE's created.

But there's this project of bringing that community of love—indwelt by GOD—out for obviously cosmic & eternal purposes.

.................................................................................. So you see GOD giving distance after the fall, HE was still coming around. HE had this little chat with Cain, & then Enoch who walked with GOD. ..................................................................................

1.2] Friend of GOD

Noah in favor with GOD.

So now for a while it's hard to track that until you come to Abraham, & it is very interesting that Abraham is the first one who is called the friend of GOD.

So a different kind of relationship is now developing because instead of just having an individual here or there—we have a family

A family, a natural union, so we've gone from the individual to the family. And this is GOD's way of being more fully in the human condition

—without standing over it & so when you look at Abraham's life, it's very interesting to watch the ins & the outs.

But GOD has now a covenant & the covenant is with a family—& the family grows into a nation [right]

A nation as yet with no place to be & then the events of the Exodus & the life of Moses—see an increasing with GOD Presence in the world.

      And GOD is saying to Abraham through you &       through your seed—all the families all the world       will be blessed & the tabernacle then becomes       part of that with GOD.

RF: That's right, sensibility, it gives a focal point for       human beings to locate GOD in relationship to       themselves. Now that really is crucial to this       whole story because even today — you ask: 

DW: Where is GOD from here? [7:45]

RF: Right

DW: Wherever here is [LOL] For living that's a crucial         question & you see in the spiritual life of people         at the present overcoming distance as they         experience is really a major project..

        But the way of preparation for dealing with that         which we now know through JESUS CHRIST &         the Kingdom of GOD. 

        As HE brings it to Earth in an available form. 

        That's prepared by centuries through which GOD         is with people—who aren't necessarily doing what         HE wanted right? 

        So they we go through a period after coming out         of the Exodus—GOD is present with the people         of Israel through judges who are raised up & the         people of Israel finally say: 

        We don't do this anymore; we need a King. We         need a King & GOD says it's not a good idea &         so HE says to the last of the judges Samuel. 

        Now tell them what's going to happen: 

.......................................................................................         This King you want is going to make your life         miserable & sure enough that statement to         Samuel—they're not rejecting you, they are         rejecting ME. One of the most profound         statements in all of this with GOD's story. ....................................................................................... 

Comment: June 12, 2023 @8:56AM 

I started reading the Bible 2019, & I picked Samuel to start & moved thru to end of Kings, which apparently both are 2 books not 4. I hadn't realized Samuel was the last judge, was more focused on 1st King aspect of the entire spiel..[1 Samuel 8:7]

But it's true this statement by GOD is so powerful: They are rejecting ME, not you. Isn't that something JESUS says when HE told us, they will hate you bc they first hate ME. [John 15:18]

DW: But HE didn't reject them. HE said okay we'll work         this out. Then HE uses the monarchy in many ways         one was to establish a different kind of presence in         the Priest & in the Prophets.

        And the Prophets remain outsiders even if they're         insiders—in some sense like Isaiah and Jeremiah         were outsiders in terms of how they were operating         with GOD, in relationship that was oppositional. 

        Often right? Which is why so many of them got         killed [9:48] But that was GOD's way of being         with them.

RF:  I remember you once saying to me because we         were kind of out in the sticks, the Prophets get         killed, but only in Jerusalem [right] LOL

DW: That's right. That's where you go to get killed.

RF:  So we went with the movement from individual to         family, then a nation of people—even identified in         terms that GOD didn't want the identification

DW: But now then in that period, you have the building         of the Temple you had the formulation of the law &         carrying that forward. 

        So that when the nation gets smashed, which it         does, then exiled—

RF:  But GOD is still with them [that's the key]

DW: That's the key is they found out that there was a         GOD in Heaven, and so the idea of Heaven now         begins to intrude. [10:46] 

        Not as something far away, but something they         went to Babylon & they thought GOD isn't here         & lo & behold HE was there! 

        GOD's here. HE's here & you have these wonderful         stories—Daniel is so magnificent, that book is so         magnificent because it is always bringing in

        There is a GOD in Heaven yep 

        Oh you have a dream we can do something about         that; there is a GOD in Heaven.

RF: 1st Heaven in in Hebrew cosmology is the atmosphere

DW: That's right, that's exactly right. It is not far away as         I'd like to say: It goes all the way down to your socks 

        That's the first Heaven. And now that's what they're         learning is the Presence of GOD in the surrounding         atmosphere. [11:37]

        Then when you look back you see how that         happened over & over in the history of Israel.

        The wonderful passage in Deuteronomy about the         everlasting arms is actually a statement about         GOD's presence in the atmosphere.

        So this is the learning that goes on & of course then         there's the restoration period & GOD's with them in         that I mean Nehemiah story. 

        And the big deal here is:         They don't have a government. GOD is dealing with         them through Cyrus & the Babylonian, then Medes,         & the Persians & all of that. 

        And that is such an incredible lesson because now         they learn we don't have to have a government         to have a GOD! And to live with GOD we can live         with GOD without the government! 

        And incidentally without a very impressive Temple         exactly because what they had in the 2nd Temple         was pretty grimy. 

        It really was, but there was a lot of learning there         because GOD was still present. Now the shekinah         did not return to the second Temple, as it was in         the first Temple. 

        That is the visible presence of GOD did not return         but that was pulling them forward. So that by the         time John the Baptist shows up on the scene, &         he says: “Well rethink what you're doing because         the Kingdom of GOD is right here.

        Okay & that lays a foundation & he establishes the         connection between the old Prophetic tradition and         the new one with JESUS. 

RF:  And JESUS then becomes the         embodiment of a with GOD life [13:35]

DW: That's right HE is the shekinah in person & HE         returns to the Temple & of course there's a future         to that. But we can't go into it.

RF:  But now that the life of JESUS is so important         because it is helping us catch a picture of this         with GOD life.

DW: That's right & so that's Emmanuel.

RF:  Right

DW: Emmanuel, HE is it & HE comes in the form of a         person & now a face is put on GOD and it is the         face of JESUS. [14:12]

RF:  I love the idea of the great doctrine of the NT of         the CHRIST-likeness of GOD, that GOD is like         JESUS & so the Gospels as the cotton patch         version says that JESUS is tops overall.

DW: That's right.

RF:  HE gives us a clarity about that with GOD life,         but then that moves into the Church the Book         of Acts.

DW: Well that's the continuing incarnation is the Church         & the way that forms is HE of course says now we         are dealing with the Jewish people.

        They're the ones that have been prepared for this         & they are the ones through whom the Abrahamic         blessing comes to all of the Earth. 

        And all the families of the Earth & so now you get         a body of people animated by the presence of the         SPIRIT of GOD—enabling them to live like GOD.

        A wonderful phrase in Ephesians 5         Be ye followers of GOD as dear children such a         wonderful way of watching a little child imitating         their parents. 

        So GOD has become accessible in JESUS & a         body has been formed & a body formed that is         this community of loving persons with GOD

        At the very heart of that community & of course         Acts tells that story, it does indeed & you see it         up to today Richard. 

        You find people spread out in history & in time &         place—they don't look like there's a lot of them,         but they aren't actually for show-and-tell, and         GOD doesn't necessarily set them on exhibit. 

        But you have these wonderful people: [16:04]         Mother Teresa, Dorothy Day, Bonhoeffer, & man         alive. I love Bonhoeffer especially in my context         because in the academic world:

        People just can't avoid him. It's astonishing & it's         so funny to watch them kind of twist & turn to get         around his devotion to JESUS. 

        Which is just the whole deal for him.

RF:  When I was a teenager, it was: Cost of Discipleship         that kept me, because I couldn't find it anywhere. 

        But I would have this old tattered copy that I would         read over & over as a high school kid because it         gave me a picture of [life with GOD]. 

        Then of course life together right now in the Bible         but this projects on into the future.

DW: That's right & the blow up is on the day of Pentecost         because that is the point at which everyone comes         from all the nations & they are imprinted & in many         cases—inhabited by this GOD that came in JESUS         through HIS SPIRIT

        Now & they spread out across the world & take that         Message out completely, non-secretarian as we say         it isn't just religion—it is a life now!  It's available to         everyone [without any cultural priesthood].

        Yes, and we we're so used to talking about that.

        We have no idea what an incredible thing it was         to go into a meeting with a group of people & find         Greeks here & Jews there...

       Then over here is Scythica.

        The Scythians were made up of nomadic groups         who all lived in an area once known as Scythia.         Scythia is an area in modern day Iran and other         areas of eastern Europe.

RF:  LOL, I love that

DW: Now you know, it's again we just don't pick up on that         but the Scythian was.. Well as I like to say a scythian         is the one when the barbarians saw the Scythians         coming they said, “Now there are barbarians.” 

        You know because they're a mean bunch of people &         you know that's well established. But it was sort of the         bottom of the human barrel. The next level down was         animals, but here they are.

        They're sitting together loving one another ministering         to one another; loving their people—people in their         community & it all comes out of one thing & that is         CHRIST is all in all in all!

RF:  Then John in his revelation, projects that on to eternity

DW: Right because by the time you get to John they have         begun to understand WHO JESUS was. [18:51]

        They couldn't get their minds around it & that's why         at the end of the last CH of John, John says these         things are written that you may know JESUS is         the CHRIST! 

        And I always like to think of the lone ranger you know         at the end of the old sequence: Who was that masked         man? The LORD!

RF:  LOL, I'm sorry that was before my time.

DW: You're a spring chicken.

        But they didn't [know], but by the time you get to the         Book of Revelation, they have got it.

RF:  That's right you've been in the community.

DW: When John sees JESUS there, the only appropriate         response is to pass out. [Yeah exactly] & of course         he could never have come like that & done his work         because you can't make much progress when you're         passed out [19:30] 

RF:  Of course John was in essence the pastor of these         seven little Churches. That's right & so that may be         the best thing for pastors is "pass out” LOL

DW: They need to be able to experience that at least to         get them in the right posture.

RF:  Well one of the things I love in this Dallas is this sense         all through the Bible of GOD saying to us: I'm with         you, I am with you, I'm with you, I'm with you, I'm with         you & then that haunting question: [20:22]

        Are you willing to be with ME?

DW: Right yes

RF:   And so that's what this life [is all about]: Life with GOD

DW: That's the great choice & of course that is         How are we with HIM?

        Well that's the choice that we make & then we learn         through Discipleship how to live in that right & as         we grow, we get a sense of something far beyond         anything we know & you know.. 

        The wonderful word there in 1 John 3:2-4

        1 John 3:2-4 | ² Beloved, we are now children of         GOD, & what we will be has not yet been revealed.         We know that when CHRIST appears, we will be         like HIM, for we will see HIM as HE is.         ³ And everyone who has this hope in HIM purifies         himself, just as CHRIST is pure. ⁴ Everyone who         practices sin practices lawlessness as well. Indeed,         sin is lawlessness.

        And such we are, but we don’t yet know what we         shall be. We just know that when we see HIM, we         shall be as HE is. [21:04]

....................................................................................         And that means we're getting in position         to reign with HIM forever & ever. ....................................................................................

I am with you, I am with you, I am with you.

RF:  This week you've been encouraging us about the         crucifixion with CHRIST, as a good thing [yes] to         lead us into greater life of the Kingdom of GOD,         in which we hear & obey the formation of the soul

        Leading us into a a all-inclusive community of         loving persons—with GOD at the heart of that         community—as its prime sustainer. [22:02]

        And the most glorious enhancement

DW: We get the taste of that in daily life. And we don't         get the whole deal, we couldn't stand it if we did. 

        But we get to be people living now an eternal kind         of life—wherever we are, because we are really         living from the Kingdom of GOD. [22:23]

RF:  Now without getting too technical, I want to explore         this idea of life in the NT. There are 2 words for life:

        [a] bios just physical life &         [b] zoe this eternal uncreated life. 

        And so that's why it's possible to be physically alive         bios & spiritually dead zoe. Now can you just un-         pack this idea of the zoe, a life of GOD that comes         into the human being from the outside. [22:45]

        This is where I really hope you can help us with         that has a principle of its own: This life & what         does that mean & how does that work out for us?

DW:  Okay that's a great question. [23:20]

         Let me start like this, life is a process or activity          that is defined by how it is directed. What is it          directed towards? Life is always propulsive &          there is a movement that is natural to the kind          of life that we're talking about. 

         Whether it's a plant or a snail or a giraffe or a human          being that has a direction & is a part of that direction          it has various parts to it.

          A snail doesn't spend any time studying algebra           human beings do & that's a different part of life. 

          Some human beings do right. 

          But it's a human capacity, whereas the snail is           sort of left out [Laughter] & that's characteristic           of kinds of life now. 

          The other thing that life does is it eats plants, eat           dirt, & they absorb light. They do photosynthesis           with that & we take in & if we are not provided           what would nourish us for the kind of life that we           have—then we die. 

          Now the human being is directed towards the           governance of their world under GOD, that           is a spiritual life; that's how we're created. 

          We lost that because being a spiritual life it was           grounded in choice & the ability to choose the           fundamental role of the human spirit is to:

          simply trust GOD & when you pull that away           you lose the nutrients that are necessary for           human beings to flourish. 

          Just like if you take sunlight away from a           cabbage plant, not much going to come of           that—so the human being has in it a kind of           life that derives from its capacity to draw           on GOD as the principle that sustains it;           gives its direction/power/keeps the direction 

          When we withdraw from GOD, we turn back           on ourselves and we try to make GOD out of           ourselves & the pickings there are pretty slim. 

          You know quite frankly & so human life does           not go well & you get the story in Romans 1           about the degeneration that comes as human           beings turn back on its own body & tries to           draw from that.

          The nutrition that will enable it to flourish. This           is a so important for us to understand what goes           on in our world today. 

          So then, now the person who is a Disciple of           JESUS has reestablished the connection with           GOD through CHRIST. 

          And that's where of course GOD with us has the           initiative on GOD's side. But HE's willing & HE           makes HIMSELF available & the new new birth           which of course is actually the birth from above.

          It's not just a new one.           It's located in a certain source & that above is           where the Kingdom of GOD is, so from the           outside comes in life. 

          Reestablishing the connection the word of the           SPIRIT, word & the SPIRIT comes in and the           response is to receive it.

          I'd like to think of these wonderful refueling           planes, so that you they trail a hose out back           of them & the plane comes up & that's us. 

          We're taking in fuel from GOD. 

RF:   Now this life that comes in then is indestructible          & destroyed & that's one of the reasons that the          resurrection of JESUS meant so much.

        Absolutely, the Disciples saw right that this life         can't be destroyed. It keeps on..

DW: In effect JESUS on the Cross is saying hit ME         with your best shot. [28:00] And I live beyond

RF:  I'll live beyond it. So the Disciples knew then that         they were possessors or participators in a life that         will go on forever & will accomplish its purposes.

DW: That's right & it's two contemporary manifestations         are always in transformation of character & power         to accomplish what is good. 

        Now that the power to accomplish what is good         that was our original charter. But we can't do         it if we don't have the life--that is alive [zoe] 

        Now when we have that. 

        Then we grow in our capacity to do that.         As our character becomes more capable of         bearing the power.

........................................................................................... RF:  That's part of the reasons for spiritual disciplines.         Right, to help them train in righteousness. ...........................................................................................

DW: That's right, it's very important here to understand         that is a continuation of GOD's provision for us         to find ways to deal with HIM—at an appropriate         distance. 

        Because see the disciplines are not themselves         Holy works. They are avenues into the presence         of GOD. 

        And you like to use that word means of grace &         that's what it is a discipline you go into solitude         or silence. Well that's something you can do, but         it's not for its own sake. It's to be receptive.

RF:  Exactly, I mean I like you know Paul's words to         Timothy exercise yourself into godliness [yes]         & that word exercise has the Greek gymnasium 

        In its background, so the idea of training like         the athletes would train & somebody was         asking the question of: 

        What discipline is appropriate? Well it's like an         athlete that is, if you're a gymnast then you're         good at the parallel bars. 

        But you're not good at the floor exercises.

DW: That's absolutely right. You've got to get to the         floor exercise & another word NT word is pidea         which has also a classic background to it. 

        It refers more to the holistic development of the         whole person, but of course you can't do that         unless you're developing the parts.

        And so you need both gimnaso & paidea & GOD         gives us teachings about how to enter into that &         go to school with JESUS & be HIS student. 

........................................................................................ RF:  And that's where our word piety comes from         the whole life being formed in a way that's         exactly right. ........................................................................................

DW: Yeah, so now then that whole life requires that we         be with one another. [30:45]

         And so that keeps us out..

        You probably hear the same thing I do, when you         say in some quarters when you bring up spiritual         disciplines—people will say: Oh privatization! 

        You know, well of course they don't know what         they're talking about because what the spiritual         disciplines do is they teach you how to love         with power & that is communal from start to         the end & so it isn't privatization at all.[31:16]

        You turn this person loose out here

        They're operating in a bank or in a taco stand or         whatever & that's where the power of character         & the presence of GOD comes through. 

RF:  Now I want to turn our thinking a little bit more         specifically to hearing GOD & particularly your         teaching here in this book on the way we come         to understand the voice of GOD.

        And the quality of the voice of GOD right the         SPIRIT of the voice of GOD & the content &         that sense of the SPIRIT you know.. 

        GOD draws & encourages, but Satan pushes &         condemns CHRIST; & we can learn the difference

        Yes indeed & so then we learn the voice of GOD         & as you put it in the still small voice & you make         a statement in here about the greater expression         the more immature that is. 

        As you develop in maturity you don't need         it's like in my mind I think of you know a horse         that has learned a neck rein, it doesn't take         much at all to turn. [32:50]

DW: That's right. Sometimes just leaning is enough.

RF:  If people have visions & dreams, that's wonderful         but it isn't necessarily a compliment. [33:00]

DW: No it isn't, it's a grace in this respect; that is         another aspect of GOD's fine tuning on this         issue of distance. 

        Because dramatic cases address the distance,         that it’s there, in the sense of grabbing someone         who might never recognize the still small voice         if it came. But also the meaning is not so clear         the person is unable to respond to it. [33:45]

        And I think this is so important to understand &         it does stand out in that passage in Numbers         where Aaron & Miriam get in trouble with GOD         because of their jealousy of Moses.

        I think that's one of the most important passages         in coming to understand the voice because GOD         just explains HIS policy & it starts out by saying         something very important: 

        that Moses is the most humble on Earth 

        WOW that's that character formation absolutely         right opens the right & that's also you know isn't         such an illustration of the thing.

        That turns up both in Peter & James in the NT         where it says GOD resists the proud. [34:32]

        Well Miriam & Aaron, they're getting resisted         but HE gives grace to the humble & HE says         “Now MY servant Moses is not like other ppl         other Prophets, the ordinary Prophet will have         a dream or a vision or something of that sort. 

        But I just talk to Moses. [34:52]

RF:  Yeah

DW: And HE talks to me; & that's the ideal condition.

        But GOD doesn't leave us alone, if we can't do         that; [RF: & that was the thing the teaching of         Elijah, after that incredible experience with the         Prophets of Baal, which had plenty of fireworks

        Then of course he skedaddles & that whole         story wanting to die under the broom tree &         getting over to the cave.

DW: Yeah a lot of self-deception because if he wanted         to die, he could you just stayed there & then

RF:  But the passage that I find so interesting is when         he gets to the cave & I think often you know well         sometimes when we go through it. 

        We want to say move over Elijah — let me come         & pout in the cave with you. But then GOD does         not leave him there, but takes him out of the cave 

        That's right & GOD says go out & stand on the         mountain before the LORD, for the LORD is         about to pass by now. 

        That passage has Sinai in its background         when GOD passed by & [scared him] Yeah!         plenty of fireworks! So Elijah was looking         for the fireworks.

DW: Well he was good at fireworks, but not much more         to tell you the truth. I mean he's such a fascinating         thing to study & I think the story there about how         when that little voice comes he wraps his face in         his mantle. 

        I think that's Elijah realizing what he didn't have         & of course this was the end of his ministry & from         there he went to ordain Elisha. 

        And I mean there were some other things that         happened after that, but basically that was the         end of the fireworks. [37:04]

..............................................................................................         It was over it's very instructive to us again in this         whole issue of GOD with us & the speaking is         absolutely essential to that & of course it comes         in many ways. ..............................................................................................

        The Bible is a constant speaking to us where we         can go to seek the word of GOD. It's kind of like         word at a permanent address whereas Israel was         a permanent address for GOD's Kingdom. 

        At one time the Bible as a form of GOD's presence         in the world, it's speaking & we need to go beyond         the sacred pages. 

        The Psalm says beyond the sacred page we seek         the LORD, our spirit pants for THEE living GOD &         that's the point where the speaking goes on..

RF:  But even though it was the end of Elijah's Earthly         Ministry, it wasn't the end because he ends up on         another mountain, which he does & JESUS & the         Disciples

DW: And even gets a ride in a fiery chariot [Laughter] 

RF:  His exit, but then even beyond that what we call         the amount of transportation he ends up Elijah &         Moses & JESUS so then we go to JESUS as the         ultimate example of GOD moving with us.

DW: Yes that's right, I'm so touched by what they were         talking about. They were talking about HIS death. 

        And I think that I think that they were encouraging         HIM & you know they never found Moses's body         I have a feeling that it wasn't left on Earth.

        And there's some indications of course about the         Angel contending with Satan to get his body & if         Satan hadn’t got his body, I'm sure there would         still be a statue of Moses. 

        Somebody that will worship him. 

        But it's so important to get out of that same way         with Elijah [& Eli exactly] yeah 

        & JESUS HIMSELF, I mean imagine what it would         be like if someone had the body of JESUS

RF:  Or even the grave clothes or something..

............................................................................................... DW: Oh yes, but these are important things about how         GOD is with us, to draw us into the spiritual world         fully; & to understand its reality. ...............................................................................................

        And of course to know that the physical world does         not disappear. It's still there, but now we've moved         into a mode of life with GOD—where we're not         under the limitations that are imposed by matter &         JESUS you remember HE said

        “Well if I don't go away, the SPIRIT can't come.”

RF: So we can move into that life.

        Well Moses & Elijah encouraging JESUS about         HIS death. This week you've been encouraging         us about crucifixion with CHRIST. 

        As a good thing, to lead us into the greater life of         the Kingdom of GOD, in which we hear & obey         the formation of the soul. 

        Leading us into an all-inclusive community of         loving persons with GOD at the heart of that         community as its prime sustainer. 

DW: And the most glorious enhancement & we get         the taste of that in daily life; & we don't get         the whole deal, we couldn't stand it if we did. 

        But we get to be people living now in an eternal         kind of life, wherever we are because we are         really living from the Kingdom of GOD.

RF:  So that death is merely a minor transition from this         life to greater life.

DW: JESUS said, “You wouldn't experience it.” 

        Very interesting thing & that's a big part of the NT         Message, and you remember Paul even says in         2 Timothy 1:10 that JESUS abolished death &         brought life & immortality to life thru the Gospel. 

        That's Kingdom living, that's eternal living; and         I think we should really emphasize that Richard         because so many of our folks are still deeply         troubled about dying & death.

        And we want to say: Now that it will make a         difference to the people who are left here, but         you're not going to be here. 

        You will go on, out of here, & your experiences         as you know it now—especially as you know it         living in the Kingdom of GOD will be continuous         through the event which from this side looks like         dying but your experience will go on. 

        I don't think Lazarus as he was at that banquet         in Abraham's bosom was thinking about death.

        & I actually think a good way of saying it is         probably you won't even know you've died         until later because you've stepped beyond         time—that's right now. 

        That's the eternal life, however we've run out of         time so we have to stop. Eternity keeps on..         That's right.

[saetoru]

𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎 | 𝐔𝐙𝐔𝐈 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐍.

“quit moving so much.”

the words come out in a quiet grumble, your lips curled into a pout, and uzui thinks he’s inclined to do exactly the opposite of what you say if you say it like that.

“i’m not moving. i’m a shinobi, i can stay still,” he hums, and just to prove his point, he twitches his thigh—the one you’re sitting on—just enough to make you lean a bit too close, making you gasp and throw him a glare. “that was clearly you losing balance.”

“tengen! you messed it up, see?” you hold up his hand for him to inspect, and sure enough, he has messed it up. a fresh, wet streak of green polish paints across his skin, very much outside his nail bed to your dismay.

he lets out a quiet snicker, and you huff, pouty lips looking a bit more plump—and kissable—now that you’ve licked them. he leans in to press a soft peck, and you pull away before your lips can touch.

“c’mon, baby,” he grins, eyes laced with amusement, “don’t be like that. give me a kiss,” he insists.

“you ruined them,” you remind him, staring at the flawed nail in disappointment. “they were looking so pretty too.”

“they’re still pretty,” he murmurs, reaching his free hand to pinch your nose. you place the bottle of polish down, wrapping your arms around his neck as you sigh in defeat.

there’s no winning with uzui, he’s always a step ahead, and he always knows just what buttons to push.

“i told you we needed a table,” you mutter, refusing to meet his eyes—it’s a last resort, really. the last bit of defiance you can show just so he doesn’t get what he wants.

but you should know by now, uzui tengen always gets what he wants.

“i like it this way better,” he hums, arm wrapping around your waist and rubbing up and down your back slowly. “i get a better view. and, a chance to do this,” he adds the last bit as his hand trails down your back to find your ass, squeezing slightly.

you gasp, finally meeting his gaze. “tengen,” you scold, slapping his chest gently—and it’s pointless, he’s only that much more amused now. “next time you ask me to help you with your nails, i’m going to—”

“going to what? say no to me?” he snorts, pressing his forehead to yours, “you can’t say no to me, baby. you’d never.”

“i would,” you counter, turning your head away indignantly.

“you’d never say no to me,” he shrugs, and you have half a mind to climb off uzui’s lap and walk away, but he seems to be reading your mind. his arm pulls you flush against his chest, and your foreheads meet once more.

“i can and i will,” you say firmly.

“so, next time i ask something, you’ll deny me?” he challenges. and you shouldn’t entertain someone like him, uzui’s always got something up his sleeve—and it’s always you who ends up paying the price, but you can’t help it.

you nod, a determined look setting on your face. “yes, i will,” you say simply. uzui chuckles, blowing on his still drying nails casually as though your words are boring. it only makes you that much more determined.

“then you should marry me,” he murmurs, as though it’s the most normal statement—and he bites back a smirk when your breath hitches.

you try to pull away, but he only brings you closer. and truth be told, you want nothing more than to tie the knot, to wake up each morning and kiss him on the lips, to bump hips as you brush your teeth together, to fold laundry and knock down each other’s piles—to live in bliss, a life where you’re his and he’s yours and it’s for good.

but this isn’t serious, and uzui’s only pushing your buttons, so you clear your throat and look down.

“that’s not funny, tengen,” you mumble quietly.

“i’m not trying to be,” he says simply, fingers running over your bare skin as his hand sneaks under your shirt.

“but—”

“are you really gonna tell me no?” he breathes, nose brushing against yours, breath fanning across your lips. and even if you wanted, you couldn’t retract, so you lean just the tiniest bit closer. he smirks. “that wasn’t me, by the way,” he grins.

“i guess i just lost my balance,” you tease, rolling your eyes. your hands cup his cheeks, and he closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. “this isn’t a trick?”

“just what do you take me for?” he asks, and this time, there’s a slight pout to his own lips. you chuckle, and it’s the tiniest bit watery, and something in uzui’s heart clenches just a little. “don’t say no to me. you can’t,” he mumbles, opening his eyes to look into yours.

“you’re right,” you agree, hand clutching the material of his shirt tightly. “i can’t say no,” you breathe.

“so you’ll marry me?”

“i’ll marry you,” you nod furiously.

uzui’s eyes brighten, and when his lips brush against yours, pressing deep into your mouth and drinking in the air from your lungs, you can’t bring yourself to warn him about his wet nails as he wraps his arms around your waist. his lips are warm, soft and plush, molding against yours flawlessly.

you pull away first, but not before he plants a quick peck to your lips as you do.

“knew you could never tell me no,” he says cheekily, flashing you a smug grin, and you roll your eyes, brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead. your thumb traces the lines of his features, and his rubs small hearts into your hipbone.

“i’m a bit shocked. that wasn’t the flashy proposal i was expecting from you,” you raise a brow.

this time, he chuckles a bit louder, leaning close and scattering pecks all over your face—and there’s a bit of giddiness in the way his lips sloppily kiss your skin, in the way he squeezes your figure tightly into his. it makes you let out a breathy giggle of your own.

“we’ll have the flashiest wedding,” he assures, and when your hands slide against each other, fingers entwined, you don’t care that his nails are smudged and ruined. you can only imagine how perfect a wedding ring would look on his finger. “this moment is just for us.”

he has no wives in this bc i don’t share sorry 😞