#these look SO authentically eighties and i wish that was a good thing

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

I can help. I can show you how to trick the machine.

The Americans: Arpanet (2.07)

[bloody-bee-tea]

BeeTober 2020 Day 7

Letter - Reunion

Day 7 of BeeTober comes with some heavy Nie Bro feels, mostly because da-ge wasn't as dead as NHS believed and a letter changes everything for both of them. 

When Nie Huaisang enters his office, Mo Xuanyu is waiting for him, worrying a letter in his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Nie Huaisang asks, as he sits down in his chair and Mo Xuanyu is strangely hesitant to answer him.

“What is that letter,” Nie Huaisang asks when Mo Xuanyu keeps turning it in his hands.

Mo Xuanyu reads all the letters addressed to Nie Huaisang before they actually reach Nie Huaisang, mostly because Nie Huaisang is too busy for that but also because Mo Xuanyu has an eye for important ones.

This one seems to be very important.

“I don’t know enough to judge the authenticity of this letter,” Mo Xuanyu starts with and he sounds reluctant to even admit that much.

“Why would you have to judge that?” Nie Huaisang asks but when he motions for Mo Xuanyu to hand him the letter, he refuses.

“I just don’t want to see you upset over this,” Mo Xuanyu whispers but before Nie Huaisang can scold him for that—there hasn’t been anything that can upset him ever since his brother died after all—Mo Xuanyu puts the letter on the table.

“It says it’s from Nie Mingjue,” Mo Xuanyu then tells him and Nie Huaisang is glad that he’s sitting down already.

He feels faint, a ringing in his ears, but then anger washes over him.

“How dare you?” he hisses at Mo Xuanyu who keeps his gaze steady.

“It seems real enough to me, but I don’t know enough about Nie Mingjue or his relationship with you to judge it. There is no one else I can ask so I am sorry that I have to hand this to you when it could possible be a fake letter, but I think you have to judge that for yourself.”

Nie Huaisang fights the urge to throw something at Mo Xuanyu, even though he’s aware that it’s not his fault. But his brother is dead and this is a joke in such bad taste that Nie Huaisang honestly lacks the words for it.

“Get out,” he finally presses out and Mo Xuanyu leaves without taking the cursed letter with him.

Nie Huaisang gets up and starts pacing his office. The office he only sits in because Nie Mingjue died eight years ago.

Nie Huaisang remembers the day very well; it’s the only day in the whole year where he allows himself to break down.

Nie Mingjue suffered a qi deviation so severe it robbed him of all his senses and Nie Huaisang has the scars to proof it too. His shoulder still aches when the weather gets cold.

Nie Huaisang kicks the leg of his desk; Nie Mingjue is dead. He flew away when Lan Xichen interrupted him before he could kill Nie Huaisang but there hasn’t been a sign of Nie Mingjue ever since and going by how severe the qi deviation was and how much Nie Mingjue had already been bleeding, there’s no chance that he survived.

There is simply no chance that Nie Mingjue is still alive, Nie Huaisang reminds himself again and again of that.

But the letter is like a beacon, tempting him to pick it up and check it for himself and Nie Huaisang is reaching for his lighter before he can even consciously decide to do so.

He’s going to burn this cursed letter and be done with it.

You’ll never be done with it if you don’t find out what it says, a tiny voice in Nie Huaisang says and he hates how right it is.

Well, at the very least Nie Huaisang will have to read the letter to find out who really wrote it and then he will come after their ass. No one can be allowed to use Nie Mingjue’s name like that. No one can play with Nie Huaisang’s feelings like this.

His hands shake when he reaches for the letter, and even once he picked it up it takes him an embarrassingly long time before he finds the strength to open it.

The handwriting seems painfully familiar—even after all these years—and Nie Huaisang closes it again.

He has to take several deep breaths before he manages to open it again.

Dear Huaisang, it reads and Nie Huaisang lets out a shuddering breath from just that. Tears are already pricking at his eyes, and he sits down, certain that he won’t make it through this standing.

Several possibilities are racing through his head; Nie Mingjue composed this letter before he died, he survived for a short time and made someone else write this letter or Nie Mingjue turned into a resentful spirit and could only be put to rest with this.

All of these possibilities hurt Nie Huaisang more than he can put into words.

Nie Huaisang worries his lower lip with his teeth until he tastes blood, and it’s only then that he can go on.

Dear Huaisang,

I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, and that is okay after everything I did to you, but I had to try at least once.

Let me start with saying how incredibly sorry I am. I swore to your mother that I would never let any harm come to you only for me to be the one to bring harm to you. I don’t remember everything from that last qi deviation, but I do remember that. It’s the only thing I could think about while I was in a coma. It’s been haunting my every moment and I know I can never make up for that, but I am sorry.

The hospital I was in didn’t expect me to wake up—and neither did I—so you can imagine their surprise when I suddenly opened my eyes. They are calling me a medical miracle and I am already so over that. I am still in rehabilitation but it seems like I’ll be able to live a somewhat normal life once I’m discharged. No cultivation for me anymore, of course, but I trust that you have Baxia handled.

The hospital informed me that they contacted you, but that you didn’t visit me and I can’t begrudge you that. I understand, Huaisang, and I am not holding that against you. I know what I did to you was unforgivable. Still, I had to at least try and reach out to you, but please don’t feel pressured. You can ignore this, if you should wish to do so. In case there is anything left you have to say to me my contact information is on the back.

I hope that despite what I destroyed, you’re living a good life.

Mingjue

P.S. Thank you for getting rid of Jin Guangyao.

Nie Huaisang is crying by the end of the letter, because it’s real. It has to be, there is no other way. Nie Mingjue survived and he thinks Nie Huaisang hates him.

Nie Huaisang never knew that it is possible to feel this happy and angry simultaneously.

He almost rips the letter in his haste to turn it around and true to Nie Mingjue’s words, his contact information is on the back.

There’s a phone number Nie Huaisang ignores for now—because this reunion is not happening through text or a call—and when his eyes fall on the city his brother now lives in, he blanches.

It’s not even a two hour drive; Nie Mingjue has been this close all those years and Nie Huaisang never even knew it. He can guess as to where it all went wrong; if Nie Mingjue was admitted to a hospital shortly after he flew off, Jin Guangyao was still in charge of taking phone calls for Nie Huaisang.

He must have been told about Nie Mingjue’s survival and then decided not to tell Nie Huaisang. He can probably count himself lucky that Jin Guangyao didn’t try to end what he started with the induced qi deviation.

Gods, Nie Huaisang really wishes he could kill Jin Guangyao again, right about now.

Nie Huaisang pushes those feelings aside for now, because it’s much more important that he finds his da-ge again.

Mo Xuanyu is always nagging at him to take a few days off; well, he’s getting his wish now.

~*~*~

Nie Mingjue doesn’t like to keep his phone out of his sight. He knows the chances that Nie Huaisang will contact him are slim to none, but there is still the tiny spark of hope, that makes sure Nie Mingjue keeps his phone at hand at all times.

The hospital discharged him two days ago and while Nie Mingjue can no longer move as fluidly or steadily as he used to, he’s more than able to live on his own.

He doesn’t enjoy it, misses Nie Huaisang’s chatter and clutter like crazy, but he can do it.

Nie Mingjue has kept tabs on Nie Huaisang ever since he woke up and he is so proud of his brother that he could probably never put it into words anyway.

Nie Huaisang didn’t only make sure that their parents company survived, he brought it to new highs. And of course—and this might be the best thing Nie Huaisang has ever done in his life—he got Jin Guangyao killed.

Nie Mingjue would have liked to do it himself, after everything Jin Guangyao did to him, but knowing that Nie Huaisang was the one to deal that blow is immensely satisfying.

Nie Mingjue can only imagine the surprise Jin Guangyao must have felt when he realized that it was Nie Huaisang all along and that alone is almost enough to carry him through every day.

Now if only his phone would ring.

Nie Mingjue shakes his head at that ridiculous thought, because Nie Huaisang is not likely to call or text him. Nie Mingjue knows he severed every last tie between them when he raised Baxia against his own brother and he’s not mad about that.

He understands.

Nie Mingjue just sat down on his couch—slowly and aching all over like he imagines an eighty-year-old must feel—when it knocks furiously at his door.

Nie Mingjue has half a mind to just ignore whoever it is on the other side, but when the knocking doesn’t stop he forces himself up again.

When he opens the door, a reprimanding ‘What’ already at the tip of his tongue, his breath leaves him like it was punched out of him.

And with how Nie Huaisang throws himself at Nie Mingjue it might as well have been.

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang cries and Nie Mingjue aches with how much pain there is in his voice.

“Huaisang,” he whispers, and it’s only then that he overcomes his surprise and crushes Nie Huaisang to his chest.

Well, it’s not so much crushes as gently presses, but it’s the best he can do now.

“You’re here,” Nie Mingjue says when Nie Huaisang simply continues to cry into his chest and it’s that that finally prompts Nie Huaisang to push away and look at Nie Mingjue.

Rationally, Nie Mingjue knows that eight years have passed and that Nie Huaisang aged and matured, but it’s still strange to see it in person.

“Of course I am here,” Nie Huaisang gives back and fresh tears are running down his cheeks. “How could you ever think I want nothing to do with you, I thought you were dead,” he wails and Nie Mingjue frowns, even though he is so happy he could cry himself.

“But you knew I was alive,” he says, his voice choked up and Nie Huaisang shakes his head, before he buries his face in Nie Mingjue’s chest again.

“Jin Guangyao must have taken that phone call. He never told me about it.”

Nie Mingjue freezes at those words.

“Do you mean that for the last eight years you thought I was dead?” he demands to know and when Nie Huaisang nods Nie Mingjue wishes he could kill Jin Guangyao with his own two hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Nie Mingjue breathes out and Nie Huaisang tightens his grip on him.

“Da-ge, I have missed you so much,” Nie Huaisang cries and Nie Mingjue puts his cheek on the top of his head.

He has grown, Nie Mingjue notes wistfully and then he closes his eyes and just enjoys having Nie Huaisang in his arms again.

“I am so sorry for hurting you,” Nie Mingjue says, even though he already said it in the letter.

It bears repeating, especially since some of the scars are still visible on Nie Huaisang’s neck.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nie Huaisang immediately reassures him. “Jin Guangyao planned it all.”

“And still, I should have never raised Baxia against you,” Nie Mingjue insists and lets out a painful grunt when Nie Huaisang slaps his chest.

It would have been playful, once upon a time, but Nie Mingjue is weak now and it hurts more than he anticipated.

“I am so sorry,” Nie Huaisang breathes out and his hand shakes when he puts it onto the spot he just hit. “But it’s not your fault and I never blamed you, not for anything. I just—I am so happy that I have you back.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to wake up,” Nie Mingjue replies and his voice is more choked up than he would like.

“Are you coming home, da-ge?” Nie Huaisang asks suddenly, and he sounds scared of the answer, as if Nie Mingjue could ever tell him no.

“Of course I am,” he softly says. “As long as you want me there.”

“Now don’t be stupid,” Nie Huaisang pouts. “You have eight years of missed birthday presents to make up for.”

Nie Mingjue can’t even put into words how relieved he is that apparently not all things have changed, and that they can still banter like this.

“Only if you have been good,” Nie Mingjue gives back and pulls Nie Huaisang further into his apartment.

He’s not too sad to leave it behind.

“I took over the company, of course I have been good!” Nie Huaisang argues and Nie Mingjue laughs.

“You have been the best,” Nie Mingjue agrees, seemingly flustering Nie Huaisang with that and he laughs again, more freely than he ever has since he woke up.

He knows his life will be different with his injuries now, but if Nie Huaisang is willing to still be at his side, then Nie Mingjue can’t mind it that much.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO “Evidence.”

Still working on the trial arc, and sorry I am late in posting. I had to go to work at seven and am trying to write in between helping guests. 

CREDIT and a THANK YOU to one of my amazing discord community members Eddi, who has been working for the last few months on the audio visual and transcript logs seen here. I did not write them, Eddi wrote them an was kind enough to let me use them in this story. I loved it and thought it brought a lot of authenticity to the story by bringing in an outside voice. 

WARNING: GRAPHIC blood, gore, and bodily mutilation. The Steel eye project development is VERY horrible, so don’t read if that is something that bothers you. 

It was a beautiful day.

The sky was a bright eggshell blue stratified with only the occasional cirrus cloud highlighting the sky with a touch of distant white. The sun was bright though the temperature was moderate only in the mid eighties.

Swimmers could be seen as distant pinpoints of light and froth on the surface of lake Geneva. Voices echoed up from the city coerced mostly by the purring of hover-car engines.

Towering white buildings rose high into the sky adding height instead of width to a city that had not grown outside its own borders for the past thousand years other than to go up.

Itw as a more environmentally efficient way to build, and left the countryside untouched by the scars of infrastructure and humanity.

Adam stared out the window for a long moment wishing for the peaceful embrace of the skies and the roaring of a jet engine. A soft whimper at his leg, and he looked down to see Waffles sitting at his heel, her head tilted back to look up at him. WHen he didn’t immediately respond to her she whined again and scooted closer, her paws making soft clicking sounds on the wood flooring below.

Finally he reached down and scratched her behind the ears.

She could sense his agitation, and it was clear that she didn’t much like it.

He couldn’t blame her.

He didn’t like it either. He sighed and turned his head away from the do and he window, back to the mirror in front of which he now stood. He didn’t see himself.

The man in the mirror was tall, straight backed with sharply trimmed and styled hair, jaw squared and raised. Both eyes were green though one expanded and contracted like the appriture of a camera. The expression on the man’s face was stern and unyielding.

He looked…. Like his father.

He had never seen much of a resemblance between them, but now he could certainly see it.

It didn’t help that the stars on his uniform seemed to add an extra ten years to his age.

With a soft sigh, he pulled his captain’s cap down snuggly onto his head and whistled low for his dog.

She fell into a perfect heel at his side, and he clipped the leash onto her colla.

Her black service vest was strapped on tight with a pair of doggie saddlebags on either side carrying water bottles. Waffles always liked having a job to do, and a little extra work would help to keep her relaxed during the trial rather than antsy.

She was going to have to stay very still for a very long time for the next few days.

“Ready girl.”

Her tail thumped against the floor at his voice.

“At least that makes one of us.”

He transferred her elash to his left end, though he didn’t technically need it, and led her out of the bedroom and into the large living room. It was a lot of hotel room for just one man. He would have been fine enough with a double queen personally, but he supposed if the UNSC was paying there was no reason to argue otherwise.

It felt strange, going to a hotel on the UNSC’s Dime to testify against the UNSC in one of the biggest trials of the century.

His stomach churned.

Waffles nosed his hand.

Dr Krill floated down from his examination of the chandelier, “I admire human artistry, but pragmatism is still my preferred way of living.” he motioned around the room, “A bit opulent.”

Adam nodded his agreement, “You can say that again. I haven’t slept on a bed that big in my life.” In all honesty, he was trying to keep his mind off of what was to come. He didn’t really care about the bed and certainly didn’t know if he had ever slept in a bed that large.

He sort of doubted it, he was in the UNSC after all.

A knock came on the door and he turned reaching for the handle and pulling it open. The driver from yesterday was waiting for him, his suit pristine. He bowed slightly, “The car is waiting for you, sir.”

He nodded, and motioned the other man to lead the way.

The man nodded and thanked him, stepping down the hall and leading them down into the lobby. They got a lot of looks as they made their way down, most likely because of krill, though his uniform might have caught some attention.

He was led out towards the car and slid into the back seat, suddenly surprised to find that he wasn’t alone.

“Admiral Kelly!”

“Good morning, Adam.”

“What are you doing here.”

“I am here to witness the trial. UNSC representatives thought it would be best if some of the newer brass came to oversee proceedings.”

He quickly looked out the window, suddenly remembering which side of the conflict this was on.

A hand rested on his arm, “I’m not here to make you feel bad about your decision, Admiral. You’re doing what needs to be done.”

He sighed and nodded, “I… thank you ma’am.”

“You sure this is something you are ready for.”

He paused and then shook his head, “No… I’m not ready, and I never will be.” She went to open her mouth but he stopped her, “But I’m the only one we have, so I will do what it takes.”

The car went silent as it slowly accelerated into the early morning traffic.

It was going to be a very long day.

Admiral Kelly turned to look at Krill speaking with him quietly while Adam looked out the window.

He wasn’t in the mood for talking right now though he knew how odd that was.

His stomach continued to churn as they drove through the streets heading towards the outskirts of the city where the Geneva court had been built just over 200 years ago.

The last buildings on the outskirts of town  went by and their first view of the court appeared in the car window. It was made in the classic greco-roman style with large white pillars and sloped rooftop and carvings on the top that depicted all the deities of justice ever conceived by historial religion, all cast and depicted in marble.

The thoroughfare up to the building was long and wide with a decorative reflecting pool at the center and a set of daunting steps leading up to the ornate front doors.

The grounds were meticulously kept with hedges shrub and flowering bushes, with what must have been miles and miles of water features and fountains off to the side.

It was a beautiful location, and it seemed that visitors found it a nice spot to rest while they enjoyed touring the sites.

He didn’t see much in the beauty today.

This was the UN supreme court, and the history of Geneva made this place hallowed in ways that made the court case for today all the more poignant.

The car pulled to a stop before the doors and a few gloved attendants stepped forward sharply dressed and opened the doors with almost militaristic precision as Admiral Vir and Admiral Kelly stepped out.

Waffles followed at his heels

He knew as soon as he stepped onto the marble steps that he wanted to leave, an the only thing that kept him there was the memory of those faces…. All the people counting on him back at the house, all the people who had never been given a chance to recover like he had.

He took a deep breath and ford himself up the steps and towards the front doos where a group of people were already congregating.

There were a few reporters there, without cameras, waiting to attend in the audience and record the proceedings for their news stories and daytime television. A few of them snapped discrete photos of him as he passed and was led through the wide double doors into the expansive inner hallway with a beautifully muraled ceiling and a line of decorative plants down the side.

Voices echoed inside the building, rising up around him to bounce off the marble.

The voices themselves were indistinct and difficult to understand as he made his way further into the room.

Men in suits lined the walls.

He eyed them critically wondering if any of them happened to be the defence.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and he quickly turned to eye another attendant, who had evidently been trying to get his attention, “Right this way sir.”

He nodded and was led through the halls and into a nearby antichamber.

A wand was passed over his body.

“Please hold out your arm , sir.”

He did as ordered and watched as his forearm implant was temporarily deactivated. 

“The room is completely radio proof, sir. No signals go in or out. If you must make a call, I urge you to take it during the court recess.”

“Understood.”

“Please step inside and sit on the second row on the right side behind the prosecution.

He did as ordered, and stepped into another wide curving room.

It was much bigger than he would have thought, two stories high with amphitheater seats, and a massive curving desk at the front where nine Geneva court judges would be seated on their entrance.

There was no jury.

The Geneva court judges would be the jury for trial at this time.

Law practices had changed a lot since world war III but there was still some semblance of the old ways that still lingered on.

He took his seat, waffles grumbling softly as he slid onto the ground beside him.

Two people in suits followed him inside one in a dark blue suit and brown shoes, the other in pinstriped balck.

The one in blue was a woman, dressed sharply, her hair pulled back into a bun so tight you could have strummed out a tune on the hairs. She paused next to Adam and held out a hand, “Admiral Vir, we spoke over the phone.”

“Ms. Trevor.”

She nodded and motioned to the man, “And my partner Mr. Jackson. I trust you understand your purpose here today?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Jackson lifted his head, “Our case here is solid, admiral. This case isn’t about who is going to be punished for what happened, but about how long they will be punished, not to mention it is likely to set up some new legislation for the ethical creation and use of military hardware. Once we are done, something like this is unlikely to ever happen again.”

He wasn’t entirely sure he believed that, but he nodded and let them take their seats in the desk before him.

Waffles whimpered and prodded at his hands with her nose.

He stroked a hand over her big pointed ears.

The courtroom filled up within the next hour, and, Looking across the room, he saw a line of men and women sitting on the second row of the defence. Something about them put him on edge.

He had a feeling they were the scientists.

They were the ones who had developed the steel eye armor.

“All rise! For the honorable Geneva court judges!”

The entire room took to their feet as the nine judges filed out of a back chamber and stepped onto the floor. All of them wore traditional black robes with white collars as had been tradition for nearly thousand of years. They took their seats with a mass shuffling.

“Please be seated.”

The room shuffled back into place.

The head judge,at the center of the table leaned forward.

“On this day June 24, 4024 we open the Geneva Court case of The People VS UNSC Biomechanics Division. the court will begin by hearing opening statements from the council.”

Council for the prosecution stood, shuffling her papers once before stepping up to the lectern.

“Honorable judges and members of the court, today we are here to present evidence against a faction of the UNSC scientific division for gross ethical violations, torture, and pruposeful endangerment of human life. Evidence suggests over 29 killed, over 21 critically injured, maimed, or permanently crippled, and over 61 with lasting mental trauma. This is not counting over 50 Steel eye soldiers coerced without prior knowledge, into participation in the program, 30 of which are now deceased 15 of which have lasting mental trauma, and five that, while functional, still feel the effects today. Today we will be presenting, written documents, video recordings, and audio files from prior testing as well as first hand witnesses of both the testing and the war as well as expert witness from the scientist who read and compiled the files before trial. What was done to these men and women constitute as war crimes and their victims deserve compensation and closure for what was done to them.”

She stepped back from the podium and nodded.

The defence stood and made their way to the podium in turn, “Your honors, and members of the court, while it is true that some unfortunate incidents happened during testing and development of the steel eye project, there is ample evidence to prove that none of these men or women were coerced against their will into participation. All subjects were volunteer and duly informed before proceedings began. Furthermore, scientific ethics had not advanced far enough at the time to cover weather or not what they were doing was an ethical violation. The Defence is not asking for complete vindication for the accused, but the sum of what happens is surely less than war crimes.” 

They took their seat.

Adam wasn’t a lawyer, but he knew which opening statement he liked more. Now maybe he was biased, but certainly he felt that one presented greater amounts of evidence than the other. Of course it was up to the prosecution to show evidence that would convince the judges, beyond a reasonable doubt, that these men and women were guilty.

He listened to some more speaking, half falling asleep and assuming maybe this would be as bad as he thought it would when one of the prosecution stepped back up to the podium.

“The prosecution presents time stamped dated and logged evidence to the court for consideration. The first testing log we wish to present is from the eighteenth of October 4016 and overseen by Dr. Tato Nkosi written as log number 23.” 

Experimental Log #023:

So far we have not experimented with a human subject, All the sample tests and simulations indicate that there should be no interference with normal function nor create any feedback loops that could induce seizures. This is the first human testing that we will be doing. We have noticed that the animal testing resulted in significant irritation and irrational behavour from the subjects, We however suspect this was because they were unawares of the reason for the implantations.

The subject is unconscious for the process of implantation to prevent movement. 

-recording break-

The subject reacted violently to the implant, removing it in a highly violent manner while screaming and trying to injure any nearby scientists. We expected some level of resistance, but this indicates far more sensitivity than expected. Further testing will be required.

“The council for the prosecution wishes to present the audio/visual log.” A light flickers on as a video clip begins reeling.

Audiovisual Log Transcript:

The subject wakes suddenly, seeming to be woken by extreme pain. Screaming almost instantly and scrabbling at implant on their hand and wrist. Subject seems to be attempting to remove the implant. One of the scientists attempts to calm the subject only to be beaten by the subject who continues screaming. The scientist retreats from the subject just as the subject finally removes the test implant by ripping it from the subjects skin, tearing with it the subjects local nervous system along with large sections of the subjects musculature and ligaments. Seeming relieved at the lack of contact with the implant, the subject sinks to its knees. The subject is losing significant amount of blood, though we suspect the subject is unaware of this as large sections of the nervous system is still attached to the implant. The subject appears to be in shock as it observes its ruined lower arm and hand. The subject has resumed screaming and is now trying to get the scientists attention to fix its ruined lower arm and hand. The subject is sedated and arm treated. The recording ends here. 

Adam throws a hand up over his face feeling bile rise into his mouth at the image seared into his brain. Muscle and ligament dangling uselessly against a steel eye prototype. He felt a bit lightheaded but takes a deep breath in and out to calm his breathing. All around the room there are gasps of shock and disgust. A few people stand to leave the room unable to witness any more.”

The council steps forward, “This was the first log in a recorded series of proceeding logs with similar effects. We know in experimentation that accidents happen all the time, and we might have considered forgiveness if the experimentation had stopped here. Clearly implementation on human test subjects was not ready, as evidenced by the animal’s discomfort. Perhaps if they had stopped here, some measure of understanding might have been allowed. But they continued past this point with full knowledge that this sort of catastrophic event could happen. This test subject will never regain full use of his hand. Instead of stopping the experiment like hey should, the scientists determined that the use of painkillers was in order to make the subject operational. For this the prosecution calls expert witness Dr. Alexander Gladstone to the witness stand.”

On the bench to his side, a man stands slicking back his salt and pepper hair as he moves to sit in the witness stand and is sworn in.

“Dr. Gladstone, tell us a little of your credentials.”

“Of course, I received my PHD in Biomechanical interface and Engineering as well as an additional PHD in Mechanised robotics. I have worked as the head scientist for the UNSC testing division for nearly five years now after my predecessor quit. I helped to re-engineer this project under Iron eye as a step forward from the Steel eye project in a more controlled and ethical environment. I am also the scientists who reviewed these logs and compiled them for analysis today.”

“Thank you Dr. Now, may I ask why these scientists would have chosen to implement a drug dosage?”

“To understand why they had to do this, you must also understand the steel eye project itself. Steel eye was designed to enhance the strength, speed and durability of the wearer. We already have exo suits designed for use in factory and industrial settings, however the main issue we run into in a combat setting is that the machine responds too slow. The nodes detect electrical impulses from the muscles and then have to fire following that meaning the subject has already begun moving almost seconds in advance of the machine. Steel eye was created to integrate the machine directly into the body to intercept nerve impulses before the muscles even fire, thus making the wearer faster, and the augment making them stronger. To do this you have to make a direct interface with the nervous system. They first implemented small microfivers which would wrap themselves around the nerves in question to detect electrical signals. These were designed to cluster primarily along the spine but have additional nodes in the major muscle groups. However, direct stimulation of a nerve or nerve cluster sends signals to the brai nthat are interpreted as…. Unbelievable agony, which is likely the agitation that they were seeing in the animal test subjects. However, with a high enough drug dosage, you can mitigate these effects, or distract the brain enough to keep the wearer functional for some time.”

He sat back in his seat.

“And in iron eye, how did you get around this problem?”

“Subdermal implants that do not require direct contact with the nerve endings themselves.”

“And does Iron eye cause any significant damage to the wearer?”

“No sir, the only danger is an infection of the implants, but that is with almost any implanted medical devise.”

“The subjects have no pain.”

“A general soreness that goes away within two to three days.”

“So in my understanding it is clear that there were alternatives to their original course of action. They could have pulled back and tried to implement a way to mitigate the pain rather than mask it with drug dosages?”

“Certainly.”

“But that isn’t what they did.”

“No.”

“The prosecution presents Transcript 27 to the court for viewing.” 

Experimental log #27:

We have begun testing various drugs to suppress the pain, this test is with acetaminophen, commonly referred to as Codeine. 

As per usual the subject was implanted while unconscious and atop this it was given a high dose of codeine prior to it awaking. 

-recording break-

It appears that while the subject was capable of withstanding the pain from the implant for a longer period of time than our previous subjects However the subject clearly seemed to suffer increasing mental instability as the sensations returned, culminating in the subject violently trying to destroy the implant. Learning from prior experiments and in an attempt to reduce harm to the scientists, the subject was left alone while it was in this state and no attempt was made to aid the subject.

Adam turned his head away unable to stomach what was coming next. His hands were sweating terribly. He felt cold and weak. He had seen horrible things in war and in his time, but watching this… .watching steel eye. It was just too much.

His mouth had gone dry, and his skin was hot as if he had a fever.

The dog nosed his hand but he barely acknowledged her.

Audio-visual log transcript:

The transcript begins once the Codeine begins to wear off. 

The subject begins by itching at the area around the implant, the reaction is far less violent than the prior subjects. After several minutes of ever more irritated scratching and aggressive tugging at the implant and plaintive noises the subject began to violently bash the implant against the wall. Growing ever more violent with the abuse of the implant. This continues till the test implant is mangled and ruined with the subject pulling the mangled chunks of metal off their skin, this however seems not to alleviate the subjects pain and irritation. This is likely due to the destruction of the implant not removing the interfacing needles The subject continued to scratch and pull at its skin, the plaintive noises slowly becoming screams of pain. This action continued without interruption from the scientists till the subject had torn most of the skin of its arm and taken chunks out of its musculature, the subject finally passed out from pain or blood loss after several minutes of self mutilation. 

The room spun around him, and he took a few long, deep breaths hoping that it would stop.

He wast sure he could survive another few hours of this.

He wasn’t sure at all 

[girlsbtrs]

Weird People Have Cool Role Models

Article by Ella Jarrard. Graphic by Allison Thompson.

As a highly unphotogenic person, I can honestly say that this is the first time I wish I could input a photo into my writing. I say this because I’d like all of you wonderful readers to truly grasp the picture I am about to paint for you. 

I'll start this way. I was not a cool kid. I was four foot three til I was fourteen. Because of that, I rode with and carried a booster seat for the car until fourteen as well. I was a little shy, terminally unathletic, and, as a wonderful cherry on top- pretended I was a horse till 8th grade. Jumping over bus benches, hedges, and cantering (instead of running) was my preferred method of transportation- everywhere. I’d like to add that I in no way am ashamed of any of this- I miss my booster, I still get carsick without it, and I feel running consistently proves less effective than a good, brisk canter. 

While this un-coolness seemed to be part of my blood, it wasn’t. My parents are cool- and I mean genuinely cool. My dad was a punk in the seventies and eighties, worked at the Minnesotan equivalent of CBGBs, seeing the starter shows of punk bands we now see on polyester shirts at department stores. He came from a bloodline of cool too- his Irish Catholic parents dabbled in being super-fans of the B52s, Janis Joplin, and early Gipsy Kings- his siblings followed as well. My mom’s first album was an ELO record, which served as a poppy base for a life filled with conflicting tastes- Led Zeppelin, New Order, Stevie Wonder. On the nights I came in early from pretending I had just won the Kentucky Derby, my parents would show me  a plethora of grainy concert videos of forgotten bands from the 80s, or sit me down at dinner for a lecture on how Ice Cube defined the diss track. 

It was on one of these nights that I found my first cool rolemodel. Sweaty from explaining to my dachshund how what she was doing was not, in fact, a proper horse trot, I came inside to find a movie playing- it was called The Punk Singer. There on the screen was Kathleen Hanna, frontwoman of Bikini Kill and Le Tigre, and a leading voice of the Riot Grrrl movement of the 90s. I was instantly enthralled. 

It shows Hanna explaining her vision, her immense adoration for Sonic Youth’s Kim Gordon, her love of clothespin jewelry, and her dauntless reactions to male violence while onstage. Although Hanna has that kind of effortless, messy beauty one tries to repeatedly replicate, her beauty wasn’t what struck me so deeply- it was her unwillingness to succumb to unrelenting disrespect and violent threats. She spoke of dodging beer cans thrown by pseudo punks who were angry about women infiltrating the Seattle scene, and, expectedly, of how those men proved to be the least punk punk fans ever made. 

In The Punk Singer, her natural intelligence oozes out of her- it seems almost blasphemous to think that anyone- whether it be the press, fellow musicians, pseudo punk fans- could doubt or disrespect her, but they did, and constantly. The Riot Grrrl movement and Bikini Kill were both horribly disrespected by publications. They consistently implied Bikini Kill and other Riot Grrrl bands were young, untalented women parading around in their underwear instead of being prolific musicians who tried to make room for women in the physical and metaphorical punk mosh pit. 

My starter level reverence for Kathleen Hanna grew astronomically within the hour and twenty two minute documentary. As I sat agape my thoughts of how to distress every Gap t-shirt in my closet in time for 7th grade tomorrow swirled rapidly. Soon the sparkly slogans like “Sassy and Classy” disappeared, replaced by a blunt tip sharpie which wrote “Anarchy in the U.K”. Gone was Monte Carlo from my Netflix favorites, it was now “Who Killed Nancy?”

There comes a time in many teenagers' lives where the wardrobe turns darker, the eyeliner gets thicker and deeper into the waterline, and the presence of self ripped black tights becomes constant. Despite it being possibly embarrassing, or horribly shameful to some parents, this time is so vitally important, especially to women. I say this backed solely by my own profound experience with a badass female role model. It was vital to me. 

Having an authentic, self-founded role model who finds us naturally, through pathways of shared interest- leads to further activation of our goals, aspirations and arguably, personal fulfillment. The term “self founded” is particularly vital in this role model concept. The narrowcasting of hyper feminine, largely stereotypical TV shows, movies and books where the main character is an overused archetype meant to define the female psyche, is damaging and polarizing to young women and gender diverse people everywhere. When one doesn’t fit into this stereotype, the stereotype often being thin, white, and secretly immensely privileged, one’s sense of self instantly becomes uncertain. Being prescribed a role model crafted by (most likely) all white men sitting in a writers room at Disney channel isn't what young women and gender diverse people need- they need to find someone who identifies with them deeply, who shows what they could become, someone who fulfills our future ambition just by being their cool, untamed selves. 

Finding Kathleen Hanna was vital to me and my future. I no longer felt shy, no longer was embarrassed by my kind of dorky ‘horse’ habit, and felt much more inclined to express myself with music, art, and interests that weren’t widely shared among my peers. I loved hearing a young woman like Hanna be loud, and instantly wanted to start announcing myself like Bikini Kill did in the beginning of their songs.  I could combine interests like Hanna did with her passion in third wave feminism and her love with punk, and be comfortable knowing all of my interests were valid and correctly placed- horseback riding at stuffy equestrian centers was now accompanied by a perpetual soundtrack of the Sex Pistols, The Clash (much to my dad’s delight) and The Damned. 

Looking back on my childhood now is like watching slides of different phases pass quickly, old interests vanished and were replaced by my big new thing. I feel proud of that, and as much as I am deeply embarrassed of some parts- like when I made my friends call me Ellore instead of Ella during my punk stage- a time they never have let me forget- I feel like each phase and role model is still deeply embedded in my soul. Kathleen Hanna made me who I am- I’d be nowhere as comfortable with myself and with my strong, unrelenting opinions without her and her strength in the RiotGrrrl movement. I never saw myself within the role models prescribed to me as a young girl, and it made me feel so deeply confused as to whether I was doing the whole preteen girl thing right. 

I saw myself in Kathleen Hanna. I saw in her what I wanted to be, I saw in her what I wanted to say and fight for, and through that- I began to see myself.

[cagestark]

*New Year’s Kiss*

Peter getting drunk on champagne and begging Tony to be his New Year’s Eve kiss. 

About this: tiny lil 2k fluff. Sfw. Ff. Adult (20yo) Peter. Posting a little early so we can enjoy it on this thirty-first. 

-

In the third hour of the party, Pepper at last manages to corner him beside the band. Tony has been avoiding her all night, strategically placing waiters and waitresses laden with trays of hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne between them, because while Tony wouldn’t put it past her to tackle him to the floor, he doesn’t believe she would accost an innocent. Her face is flushed, whether from anger or alcohol, Tony can’t say. 

“Tony,” she says, urging him to the side of the room away from the blaring swing band and writhing mass of bodies. “You need to cut off Peter.” 

Ah. Until then, Tony couldn’t have been sure why Pepper was hunting him during the party like a shark smelling blood (there were a whole host of potential reasons to be fair), but this reason—it’s not a bad one. Against his will, he glances towards the dance floor where Peter is currently being taunt how to Charleston by Natasha, whom Tony doesn’t believe he has ever seen smile nor laugh so much in one evening. His mouth goes dry at the way Peter looks, curls plastered to his forehead with sweat, the sleeves of his dress-shirt rolled up, cheeks flushed. 

“What?” Tony shouts. “I can’t hear you, this band is so goddamn loud, I love it though, don’t you? What a way to bring in the 20’s, am I right?” 

“Cut! Him! Off!” she says through her teeth. “If the press get wind of us letting a minor—” 

“Peter is twenty!” 

“Which is underage, Tony, don’t undermine me.” 

“Come on, Pep,” Tony pleads. “Look at him, he’s having such a good time. If he’s going to drink, I’d rather he do it surrounded by the Avengers and SHIELD employees than anyone else in the world. That way we’ll have tons of documentation to blackmail him wi—ow, God, woman! Mercy!” 

“Take him outside,” she insists. “Get him some air to help him sober up, and tell the bar not to serve him another drop. I mean it. If you’re quick enough, you can make it back inside in time for the countdown.”

Sighing, Tony relents. While his guest rooms were open to any Avenger who became too intoxicated to walk, drive, or portal themselves back home to the proper dimension, he isn’t sure if May expects Peter home at a decent hour or not. Sending the kid back to her drunk would be a poor idea in the best of terms. 

Wading through the dance floor (nearly getting elbowed by an over-enthusiastic SHIELD agent who is flapping a little too enthusiastically), Tony approaches Peter and Natasha with his eyebrows up. She’s dressed the way many other party-goers are, in typical Roaring Twenties style. The beads on her dress glitter in the light and with every energetic step. Peter is no less a specimen, though he has shed his pinstripe overcoat. The vest beneath fits him like a glove, emphasizing his trim waist. 

There’s no harm in looking, he thinks. And he certainly can’t help the images his brain conjures at a moment’s notice. Tony has had enough with trying to keep a leash on the things that are beyond his control. 

He places a hand on Peter’s back as the music changes to a ballad. The kid’s skin burns his palm, shirt thin and nearly see-through with sweat. Peter glances over his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded. They widen at the sight of Tony, a smile blooming brighter and more beautiful than any flower Tony’s ever seen. 

“Mr. Stark!” Peter says. At once, he abandons Natasha (who slips off into the crowd with a shimmer of beads, ever adept at knowing when to drift back into the shadows), and throws his arms around Tony’s neck, plastering himself to the billionaire and beginning a drunken sway, like Tony has simply tapped Nat’s shoulder and asked, can I cut in?

He lets them sway together for a few long moments, keeping his hands primly above his partner’s waist. When he feels Peter turn his head so that his breath fans hot against Tony’s neck, he works to clear his throat of the knot that’s tied itself there. Even though it hurts to pull away from the kid’s drunken embrace, he does it. He’s good at doing the things that hurt. 

“Come on. Outside, Valentino,” Tony rumbles into his ear. 

Peter follows happily enough, stopping to hug Clint who is equally as drunk. They spend a long, semi-homo-erotic moment pressed together, like lovers who are seeing each other for the first time and not teammates who were wearing feathered headbands and taking photos together in the picture booth thirty minutes before. 

“Alright there, come on,” Tony says, coaxing Peter away. “I hate to break up such an arousing display of affection, but I need to get this little spider outside, stat. Pepper’s orders! Pepper’s orders!”

The last thirty feet to the balcony are traversed with Tony carrying most of Peter’s weight, the kid’s breath still hot on Tony’s neck while he babbles about how swell the party is, how much fun everyone seems to be having. It’s charming enough to listen to. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the suave singer of the band murmurs into the microphone as Tony opens the door to the balcony, letting in blustery air that sobers even him. The room behind them falls as quiet as it can when filled with eighty of Tony’s closest friends and loved-ones who have been indulging on authentic French champagne for the last three hours, glossy eyes turning towards the platform where the band sits above them all. “It is five minutes until midnight. We encourage you to find your favorite guy, gal, or pal to ring in the New Year with. If anyone has any declarations of love to impart, now is the time.”

“Where’s Bruce?” Thor shouts at the top of his lungs. 

Howls go up around the room until Tony closes the door and cuts them all off. 

“Do you think we’re going to miss Thor make a move on Dr. Banner?” Peter asks. He’s not slurring but there’s nothing sober about him, eyes glossy, swaying where he stands with Tony between him and the balcony. The cold air enhances the pink flush in his cheeks, and the kid shivers, sweat cooling in the breeze. For a moment, Tony gets an idea in his head of taking off his jacket and slinging it over the kid’s shoulders. He bats it away. 

“Even if we do, there will be footage I’m sure,” Tony says. “How are you feeling kid? Tell me the alphabet backwards.”

Peter laughs, head tilting back. Tony’s eyes drop to the pale, unmarked throat before he urges them away. “Come on, Mr. Stark. Give me something hard—I mean! That’s not what I meant. You know what I meant. Not hard like your—not that you are—fuck.” 

“God, I hope FRIDAY is filming this right now. Who am I kidding, FRI sees all,” says Tony, glancing out over the city. Manhattan is lit up like a Christmas tree, full of people eager to leave the year behind, hopeful that the future is as bright as the city lights. Tony cranes his neck to take in the party beyond the frosted glass, everyone moving like a movie with the sound off. “Take some deep breaths, Pete, try and clear your head, okay? We’ll both be back in there before midnight.” 

A firm presence leans against him. He nearly jerks away (like he doesn’t know who it is, like there’s anyone else out on this empty balcony save for them). Peter presses his nose to the crook of Tony’s neck and breathes in, one hand resting firm against Tony’s hip. “Is Miss Potts going to be your New Year’s Kiss, Mr. Stark?”

Heart in his throat, Tony struggles to respond. This close, he can smell the kid’s body spray and beneath it the sharp but not unpleasing scent of his sweat. Peter’s eyes glitter black, like lights off of the Bay. Instinct urges him to set Peter straight, to remind him that he and Pepper broke it off months ago, and the relationship had been more platonic than romantic even long before then. Instead, all he says is, “No.” 

Peter hums. “Do you know who I want to be my Kiss?” 

Tony swallows. “I can make an educated guess. Kid—” 

Peter’s hands fist the fabric of Tony’s suit. His strength is unmatched, pulling the billionaire close until they are flush against each other. He’s hard in his JC Penney dress slacks, hips leaning forward to nudge against Tony’s hipbone until the kid groans, a sound that makes Tony’s mouth go dry and his heart pound like a bird beating its wings against the bars of its cage. “Please, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was a little boy, ‘m a man now, aren’t I? That’s what you said to Captain Rogers when he didn’t want me on the team.” 

“Peter,” Tony groans, glancing back towards the party. No one has taken any notice of their absence. “Come on, kid. You know I can’t.” 

“Why not?” Peter breathes, pauses to press his lips chastely to Tony’s shoulder. “Because you’re straight?” 

Tony sighs. “Don’t insult me like that; you know I’m not—” 

“Because I’m underage?” 

“I know you aren’t—” 

“Because you aren’t interested in me?” 

“I am—” He snaps his teeth shut on the words just a moment too late. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he could reach out and snatch the words right back out of the air, hide them somewhere down deep. He mutters under his breath, “Fuck.” 

“Don’t worry,” Peter says, smiling with glassy eyes. He looks more tired than drunk, exhausted, too young and with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And Tony can’t add himself to that burden; he just can’t. “I already knew. But if you want to kiss me, and if I want to kiss you, then why can’t we?”

“You make it sound easy,” Tony says roughly. Something in him, some fault line that has existed in relative inactivity until now while the pressure builds and builds—it finally snaps. He grips Peter’s wrist which was creeping around towards his tense abs, towards the bottom of his vest like he’s going to dip it right down the front of Tony’s pants. Pulling him into the shadows away from the glass doors, Tony presses Peter against the wall of the Tower and looms over him. “You make it sound innocent. You think that a kiss will be good enough for me? I’m the most famous glutton alive, kid. If I pour myself a drink, I have to have another. If I kiss you—it won’t be enough for me. It will never be enough for me.”

“You act like I could ever want you to let me go,” Peter laughs. 

Inside, the countdown begins, the roar of the entire room just audible through the glass doors of the balcony. 

10

“Please—” 

9

“No, Peter, I can’t.” 

8

“I’m begging you—7—Please—6—Even if this is all I ever get—5—then at least let me have this—4—this one moment—3—Tony, please—2—”

—And one must come next. It must. But Tony doesn’t hear it, not for the rush of blood in his ears (his heart, that’s his heartbeat pounding away), not for the wind whistling around them when he closes the distance between them, presses them chest-to-chest so that he can capture Peter’s mouth with his own. It’s not a first kiss, no tentative questioning movements. It’s a well-seasoned lovers’ kiss, fierce and wet, a tsunami that drags him under until Peter’s all that’s in his mind, his mouth, his lungs, his scarred chest and broken-open heart.

When they part (Peter breathing the softest thank you), their mouths are raw. The cheers from inside might as well be for them for the way Tony’s heart has swelled. He rakes his eyes over Peter’s face, seeing him with new eyes even as the kid gives him a sad, trembling smile. 

“That’s it, then,” Peter says, tears glittering in his lashes. “Party’s over, huh?”

“No,” Tony promises, taking the kid’s hand and pressing his lips to the arch of his knuckles. “I meant what I said; I haven’t had enough of you, Peter. The party is just starting, kid. Come on, let’s get out of the cold.” 

[cashmerescarf]

Scarves Cashmere For Girls

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[hiddenprofound]

Painful Observations

There are things about my life I wish I could change. Waking up everyday feeling the existential, lonely sadness of my life makes things much more difficult to accomplish. It’s not that I don’t have goals, I do. The problem is, I’m starting to realize these goals aren’t actually I feel like I cab obtain. I think we all can relate to wanting a happy life, with the person you love. Building a happy, successful life. That’s the dream right? I wish I could let myself live that dream. It appears as though I choose misery and insanity every single time. 

I’m sure it has a lot (if not everything) to do with my fractured relationship with my parents. I was child being brought into the world by adults who were still children themselves. Seems like a lot of kids born in the eighties had to deal with parents still learning how to grow up. I was treated like a piece of garbage that was thrown out and sent to live with my grandparents, while both of my parents decided to have other marriages and children of their own. This has always made me feel like I am not worthy of love or companionship. This is why I push people away.

I also never had a lot of friends growing up. I was a chubby, (and admittedly) annoying, hyperactive kid who did not know how to properly and socially interact with other kids my age. I was made fun of, got into fights, and would pretend it didn’t bother me. I know now, it did bother me. It bothered me a lot.

Years have passed since childhood. I got into music, and I found friends through music and playing in groups with like minded individuals. At first, it all seemed to be falling into place. It seemed I found my tribe of people. I was even comfortable enough to start living my life out of the closet. Life was in a good place for a little while.

But I learned that I was stuck between two worlds. Though, everyone involved in the music portion of my life was accepting of being gay, the gay subculture wasn’t something that intertwined with the music scene I was so heavily involved in. Trying to be a rockstar and also trying to be authentic are two very different and difficult things to juggle. No matter what, or no matter who I found, the two never seemed to overlap.

I traveled a lot and even made my way across the country to warmer climates and thought maybe I could do a new start. That would fix everything. And for a while, it felt like it did. But ultimately, I messed that up too. I pushed people away, and even though I got burned and feel people were mistreating me, I definitely didn’t react the best way I could have. The curse of happiness in my life seemed to have struck again. After a few years, and a few relatives passing, I ended up back home, with many bridges having been burned. I went kind of into hiding for a while. I couldn’t face many people. I then found who I thought might be the love of my life. He was sweet, charming, and was able to get me out of a shell I was putting myself into. 

It didn’t take long to find that the world through rose color glasses is simply an illusion. Soon enough, the abuse started coming in. I started to see the drug and alcohol problems that painfully brought me back to my own parents. Four years of lies, broken promises, manipulation, and depression. After I finally left, I was a changed man. I was a broken man, trying to pick up the already shattered pieces of life. 

Since then, things have somewhat gotten better. Slowly but surely. But sometimes I think I have peaked on my happiness. Sometimes I don’t know how much damage has been done. Sometimes I don’t know how much left there is that I can fix. Sometimes it feels like my psyche is something of the consistency of an egg shell, that its been dropped and put back together so many times. It feels like its been dropped so many times that there are simply pieces too small to find and that maybe this is as good as it gets. 

There are always people who say to look at the positive side of things. That positive energy will negate the negative energies surrounding us. But, I just can’t bring myself to believe it. I want to so desperately, but I can’t trick myself into believing things get better.  I have been diagnosed as having bipolar I disorder, so maybe it is the lows talking. But, I guess I just believe in my misery over theoretical happiness brought by mystical positive energy. I believe my pain and my misery is real. I feel like these things are there to teach me to be careful of who I trust. I guess its “cynically” correct. But being the cynic isn’t what has caused me the most pain. Being a cynic is what has protected me in the past. Not being a cynic is what has caused me trust issues, love issues, etc. 

I know they say you can’t love if you won’t put yourself out there. And I actually do agree with that. I wish love was in the cards for me. I am guilty and can admit from practically being a generation raised on television, my perception of happiness is warped and unrealistic. But I guess that’s where the dream lies. It sits somewhere in a dark corner of my mind where it gives me a false sense of hope, and also torments me at the same time. As an adult, I am starting to realize and accept that dreams and nightmares aren’t that far apart. In fact, dreams and nightmares can be one and the same. Dreams can just be another word for waking nightmares. All I can hope for is a miracle, or some person or event that can change my mind. Until then, I guess there is nothing else to do except to take this medication and try to find hope inside myself again. 

[angrylizardjacket]

you wrote ‘don’t forget’ on your arm // 1 // charlotte&lola (penny&jupiter)

Summary: Jupiter’s going to dress as Lola for the premiere of The Dirt, is dating MGK, and also the premiere happens.

A/N: @misscharlottelee and @local-troubled-writer . I split this into 2 parts because the second part is almost entirely this AU’s version of The Dirt and it was getting too long. Next part to be posted tomorrow!!

Part 1 of 2

----

Jupiter looks like Lola; the same dark hair, same angular face. They’re not a spitting image, they’ve inherited Tommy’s waifishness and green eyes, so the honour of looking like a carbon copy of their mother belongs to Cerie, but whenever people write about Jupiter, on blogs or in magazines, they always feel the need to mention; Jupiter looks like Lola. So with the premiere coming up, Jupiter thinks it’s only fitting; if all anyone sees is their mother, then spitefully, they’ll play into that.

For the record, Alicia, the woman they’ve got playing Lola, looks eerily similar to her, and by extension Jupiter, and Jupiter wonders if it’s egotistical of Freudian to think she’s hot. Whatever; that’ll be their therapist’s problem. The cast for The Dirt is hot, which is an uncomfortable truth that Jupiter has to live with. Even Iwan makes Mick hot, which is somehow way weirder than her mom being hot, because Mick is a gremlin and the only band member Jupiter actually gets along with, their father notwithstanding. 

Some time when Jupiter was a teenager, Mick had told them, with the haunted wisdom of a man who has spent over half his life putting up with their parents, that he’d had broken guitars with more common sense than Lola, and Jupiter decided then and there that he was their favourite, and their opinion hadn’t waivered since.

So it’s with a well-worn resentment that they acknowledge how actually stylish Lola was in her youth, not that she isn’t now, but she was more of a punk in her twenties than Jupiter knows they could ever be. 

Penny thinks it’s self-destructive behaviour, and that Jup is too old for this shit, but she tags along, never one to pass up a good trawl through a vintage store, that is when she’s not in the studio with Dominic. Jup joins them when they can, when they’re not working on the final touches for their own album.

“Am I allowed to say your mom is hot?” Colson’s laying back on Jup’s sofa, flipping through a scrapbook Tommy had leant him, filled with old newspaper and magazine clippings, trying to find a good photo of Lola, while Jupiter scrolls through pinterest, looking for any and all photos of their mother in her youth. Preferably with clothes on. Christ, Lola. Jupiter shoots him a look, but it’s not angry, it’s just rather… uncomfortable.

“I think you are, but I wish you wouldn’t.”

None of the jackets are ever right; they’ve got the ripped fishnets, the black platforms, the leather shorts, they’d even managed to get their hands on a spiked bra, but for all the leather jackets they’d looked at, none of them were Lola-level of over the top gutter punk. Oh they had spikes upon spikes, and buckles, and a few had some custom detailing, but none of them were right. Up until Motley’s first tour, Lola had lived and died in her black leather jacket, with the spikes on the shoulders, that looked better open than it did zipped up. There was only one option left. They could go to Tommy, but they knew ultimately they’d end up at the same place.

Lionheart Management’s thirty-second floor offices had the same effect on Jupiter as a dentist’s office had on a child; deep seated discomfort, but Jupiter would rather meet her there than have to go to the bullshit family home she shared with Nikki.

Jupiter knocks on the door that bares their mother’s name, grimacing at the little plaque beneath that reminded everyone that she was the CEO. Lola’s voice rings from inside, inviting them in, and she seems pleasantly surprised to see Jupiter when the door opens.

Lola still wears all her earrings she’d given herself in her youth, though now they’re studs rather than safety pins and pieces of wire, as Jupiter had come to see, and for all she’s grown up, she still favours black. Maybe that’s why Jupiter’s always gone for pastels.

“What a lovely surprise,” Lola sits back in her desk chair, haloed  the golden records on her wall, and gives a fond smile to her child, “what can I do for you today?” And it kind of stings that Lola knows that Jupiter wants something, though Jupiter considers that that’s no-one’s fault but their own. They don’t make a point of seeing Lola for idle chatter.

“Do you still have that black jacket from the eighties?” Jupiter cuts right to the chase, and Lola frowns a little.

“Which one?”

“The one with the spikes on the shoulders and the weird sort of panel design?”

“I think Nadine gave me that one -” Lola says, something gently faraway about her tone.

“I don’t need it’s history, I’m just asking if I can borrow it.” Jupiter’s tone is sharp, and Lola’s expression falls. After a moment, she agrees quietly, giving a sad smile as she tells Jupiter they can pick it up later that night from her house. Before they turn away, they think they can see what people mean when they say that Jupiter looks like Lola, something haunted, wise beyond her years. They turn away.

“It’s good to see you, Jubilee,” Lola tells them just as Jupiter goes to leave, using the nickname she’d given Jupiter after they’d come out and changed their name, “I’ve heard you’re working on some new music, that’s exciting.” She’s trying so desperately to make some sort of connection with the child who barely acknowledges her, and Jupiter feels a twinge of guilt.

“It’s releasing a month after The Dirt, my album,” Jupiter’s tone is soft and a little cautious, but they turn back in time to see Lola smiling, “I even had Seo and Cyrus help out with one of the songs.” To which Lola actually laughs, warm and fond.

“I heard; Cy has not stopped talking about it, and about how he’s going to thank you when he’s headlining Coachella in a few years time.” Lola enthuses, leaning forward, elbows on her desk, eyes sparkling with amusement. This has Jupiter grinning, amused at their little brothers antics, actually sharing a nice moment with their mom. “Sounds like you’re really keeping busy; dad’s got you and Penny working on some stuff for the premiere, right?” 

“Yeah, along with Colson and Dominic,” Jupiter says with a faint smile.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Lola says, a gentle pride in her words, “taking the world by storm, you’re a powerhouse, Jubilee.” And Jupiter feels a strange sort of warmth flourish in their chest. 

Lola doesn’t ask why they want the jacket, just hands it over easily when Jupiter comes to pick it up.

When he sees it, Colson whistles low through his teeth, poking at the spikes on the shoulders with an awed fascination.

“Holy shit, dude -”

“Don’t cum too hard, it’s just a jacket,” Jupiter makes a face, but Colson actually snorts.

“Do you know how many guys would give their left nut to touch this jacket?”

“Are you into me or my mom?” Jupiter snaps, and he turns his gaze on them, eyes wide, looking a little guilty. In an instant, he’s put the jacket on the table, and has wrapped Jup up in his arms.

“You, babe, of course, it’s just weird after seeing the replica costuming made; it doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. I’m into you, Jup,” he adds, “jesus fuck.” Jup will leave enough bites and hickeys on him to remind him of this fact later that night. 

They haven’t thought much about the movie itself; they’ve been around set out of sheer curiosity, and also to spend time with the cast, as they’re becoming fast friends, but they don’t actually know even the plot of the movie, or have read the script, and they haven’t been motivated enough to piece together any of this information from the snippets they’ve been on set for. Penny’s got a better grip, mostly because she, Lola, and Tommy have had meetings with the director, writers, and actors on how to handle Charlotte and Razzle with sensitivity, but Penny never talks to Jupiter about it, she knows Jupiter, for lack of a better phrase, would rather be surprised by the movie.

So their expectations are low by the time the premiere comes around, but they’re going all out, getting ready with Penny and the hair and makeup team they’ve hired for the occasion. 

Dark hair dark eyes, the makeup and hair women do a fantastic job, and Penny’s quiet for a long moment after the reveal.

“They did good?” Jupiter asks with a sharp smile, and Penny gives her a strange smile, a nod, but no words leave her lips. Jupiter doesn’t quite know how to take that, so they get dressed, leather shorts over ripped fishnets, knee-high black platforms that make them taller than any person should rightly be. They’d inherited most of Tommy’s height, which now, with six-inch platforms, is more of a curse than a blessing at 6′7″, but it doesn’t matter. They pull on the spiked bra, and leave their room with Lola’s jacket in their arms.

And Penny is silent.

“Holy shit.” Soft, eyes wide and awed, Penny takes them in, and Jupiter feels a strange sort of discomfort. “You look just like her.” Penny looks stunning in her own right, in a gorgeous, vintage-inspired jumpsuit, hair styled big, looking every bit like her parents’ daughter. Before her words could really sink in, she’s giving a bright smile, rifling through her bag, “we should get a polaroid; Andy and Sami asked if I could send a photo of us from tonight.”

They get a photo together, wait for it to develop before sending it to both the kids’ groupchat, affectionately titled Bastards Incorporated, as well as the group text Penny’d started with the rest of Hanoi Rocks after visiting them a few years ago.

Sami Yaffa sends back ‘holy shit pennylope and kid lee!! what a blast from the past’ and Jupiter feels like they’re hearing that a lot lately. He follows it with a few kind words about how authentic they look, and how their parents would be proud. Penny pretends like she isn’t tearing up a little at that, and Jupiter pretends like they don’t take the comment as a compliment. 

Meanwhile, in Bastards Incorporated, populated by the various Lee and Sixx children, amid compliments, Cyrus has changed Jupiter’s nickname from Daddy Kink  to Electra Complex 😘 and Cerie is sending selfies from the limousine that’s on it’s way to Jupiter and Penny.

[Jupiter] Electra Complex 😘: cyrus im gonna break all the bones in your arm [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: im ambidextrous [Jupiter] Electra Complex 😘: *arms [Cerie] Evil Cyrus sent a photo to Bastards Incorporated. [Penelope] the only valid lee: Cerie sTOP you look incredible!!  [Cerie] Evil Cyrus ❤️ reacted. [Jupiter] Electra Complex 😘: wait is that SEO NOT WEARING A HOODIE [Seo] King of the Ripsticks ❤️ reacted. [Cerie] Evil Cyrus sent a photo to Bastards Incorporated. [Penelope] the only valid lee: SEO YOU LOOK SO GOOOOOOOD [Seo] King of the Ripsticks ❤️ reacted. [Seo] King of the Ripsticks: 🤵

Since turning 18, no-one outside of the family has seen Seo’s face without his hoodie and sunglasses, a personal choice, and kind of a gimmick to make him more memorable in the skating scene, so when Penny and Jupiter slide into the limousine to see him dressed to the nines, in a powder blue suit with his hair blown out, it comes as a welcome surprise, and they both shower him with compliments.

“Oi!” Cyrus cuts in where he’s sitting opposite them beside his twin, “what about me?”

“You look like a rat,” Jupiter tells him, despite how well dressed he also was. Cyrus flips them off, “Cerie you look stunning.” Jupiter tells her with a warm sincerity, and Cerie gives a toothy grin. Cerie’s always had the makings of a model, and in a sparkling, champagne colored dress and understated makeup, she’ll outshine them all with ease.

“Come on,” Cyrus whined, before tugging at the lapels of his jacket, doing the bottom button up, putting on his most winning grin as he turned on Penny, “come on, Pen, thoughts?” And Penny, ever the favourite cousin, humours him.

“You look great, Cy; I can’t believe you’re wearing a keyboard tie, but somehow it looks good on you, bud,” and at her praise, Cyrus practically preens.

“I can’t believe you’re dressed as mom,” Cerie’s a little disbelieving when she finally takes in Jupiter’s attire, quickly making mention that they look spectacular, it’s just a little jarring.

“You look -”

“Just like her, I know,” Jup gives a tired smile, and pulls out a hand mirror to touch up their lipstick, “it’s kind of the point.”

They all enthuse about the film, about the story they’re about to witness, about how it’s probably going to be weird to see their parents like that - Penny is quiet. And Jupiter takes her hand without a word. 

They step out onto the red carpet one at a time, first the twins, Cyrus leading like the peacock he is, followed by Cerie, then Seo. Jupiter goes to leave, but Penny won’t move, won’t let go of their hand.

“What if they tell it wrong, after everything, they tell it wrong?” She asks, a shake in her voice that Jupiter knows all too well. 

“Then we’ll burn the theatre to the ground -”

“Don’t be like Lola for just a fucking minute, Jup; this is really important to me, I know you don’t get it, but arson won’t fix if they’ve ruined my family’s memory, you know?” 

Jupiter pauses for a long moment before wrapping Penny up in a hug, just as she had so many times for Jupiter before. Penny dabs delicately at her eyes before her tears can ruin her makeup.

“Our family wouldn’t let them release anything that didn’t do your parents justice; you wouldn’t sign off on anything that wouldn’t do them justice.” Jupiter tells her with the utmost seriousness, though Penny’s expression is still doubtful.

“But what if I got it wrong?”

“Penelope Dingley Lee, first of her name, if your parents were here, they’d be so immeasurably proud of you, because they loved you more than anything else in the world,” they took Penny’s face in their hands, made sure she was looking at them, “you couldn’t fail them even if you tried.”

Together, they face the crowd, who go wild at the sight of them, and smile like this isn’t one of the most uniquely strange and painful experiences of their lives. Flashbulbs go off and Jupiter strikes pose after pose, soaking up the attention with Penny by their side. They get to their siblings, to the rest of their family, there’s shock, and surprise, and when they look at Lola, wearing a black, velvet dress with her hair slicked back, she’s shocked. 

“Look at you,” Tommy marvels with a million-watt smile, “this is one hell of a stunt, kiddo, you look fantastic!” And he wraps them up in a hug, looking proud as punch. 

Mick is laughing harder than Jupiter’s ever seen him laugh before, and Vince and Nikki are wearing almost identically fond and disbelieving smiles. But Lola is unreadable.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Mick makes his way to Jupiter, pats them fondly, and Jupiter makes a point of patting his head with their enhanced height, “you wear it well, kiddo; didn’t realise those two had good genes to pass on but it seems they did.” Tommy, who overheard the remark, sees Mick’s good-natured smile and teasing tone, and flips him off with a smile of his own, while Lola snickers.

“Fuck you, you geezer,” she tells him with a well worn fondness, before looking back at her child, who suddenly feels strangely nervous, though they try their best to cover it with bravado.

“They say I look like you,” Jupiter says with a smirk, and Lola shakes her head, expression turning amused. The rest of the family and the band is busy taking photos, but Lola tentatively approaches Jupiter, asks if she can hug them. Jupiter, who’s never really been one for physical contact, acquiesces, bending to hug their mother. 

“You have a much better head on your shoulders than I did at your age,” Lola mutters, and gives Jupiter a squeeze, before adding, “you look so badass, sweetheart.” 

Jupiter has no idea what they were expecting, but this almost definitely wasn’t it. Lola and Jupiter get countless photos together, and in the moments that follow, when the cast arrive, Alicia almost doubles over with laughter, crowing about how they should have cast Jup instead. The three of them get a photo together, and it’s one of the proudest moments of Lola’s life.

Focus from Jupiter dies down as people are splitting off to get photos with their doubles; Max and Josie tug Penny away to get a cheesy family photo with her, while the band and cast were taking side by side comparisons. 

By the time Douglas has reintroduced himself to Seo, not recognizing him without his hoodie and sunglasses,the rest of Lola’s kids are doing an incredibly poor job of hiding their laughter.

“Dude, who is that?” Colson asks Jupiter, trying his hardest to be discrete. Jupiter raises their eyebrows, casting their gaze to Seo before looking back at Colson.

“That’s my brother.”

“How many do you have?”

“Four.”

“And that one’s -”

“Seo.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Colson half laughs, looking back at where Seo was taking photos of Cerie on her phone for her instagram, “are you- that’s Seo? Seo! Dude!” He calls, and Seo looks over in their general direction, flashes a toothy smile, before turning back. “That dude was under that hoodie that whole time? Guess I owe Daniel five bucks.”

“What?” Jupiter laughs, and Colson looks a little sheepish, wrapping an arm around them as a photographer calls their names.

“We all had a bet about what was under his hood,” Colson tells them, posing for the camera, “Iwan’s money was on alopecia -”

“He thought Seo just had no hair?” Jupiter snorted.

“I was thinking embarrassing face tattoo, Doug had weird-coloured hair, and Daniel had -”

“Regular dude?”

“Weirdly handsome dude, actually, and I can’t believe he’s spot on -”

“And I can’t believe you seem to have a thing for my whole family,” Jupiter gave him a gentle shove, while Colson gave a rougish grin.

“Only ‘cos if I think too hard about you, lookin’ the way you look, we’re not gonna make it to the actual movie,” he murmured in their ear, and Jupiter swallowed hard, smile widening on their face.

“The movie starts in half an hour; meet me in the second story bathroom in ten minutes,” and with that, they split, each moving to take more photos, Colson doing a few interviews while Jupiter made their way to the bathroom discretely.

Before he leaves, Colson can’t help but say hello to the oldest Sixx child; Seo squints at him for a moment before smiling.

“Hey man, good to see you,” he says, and without a doubt, that’s Seo’s unflappable baritone. 

“Gotta say, man, you clean up nice, almost didn’t recognise you,” Colson admits, wrapping an arm around Seo’s shoulders as they take a few pictures together. Seo looks at whoever calls his name loudest, smiling brightly. “How you doing man?”

“Great, man, like a pig in shit,” he says, “can you do me a favour?”

“Depends, what’s up?”

“Point me in Penny’s direction; she’s wearing the same colour thing as Cyrus and I am fucking lost,” he laughs, and Colson does a double take, which Seo seems to miss, “Cerie was right, I should have just worn my damn glasses.”

“Dude, are you blind?”

“Legally, yeah, can’t properly see anything that’s not six inches away from my face.” And suddenly things are make a lot more sense.

“Your sunglasses are prescription, aren’t they?” Colson steers him in the direction of Penny, who caught sight of the pair of them, meeting them in the middle.

“Bingo,” Seo tells him with a grin, before letting Penny tuck her arm in his. After a beat, he adds, “thanks Daniel.”

“Actually I’m -” Colson goes to correct, actually a little embarrassed, but Seo snickers.

“It’s a joke, Kells, I know it’s you,” and he adds, “Jup left like twelve minutes ago, if you were looking for her.” And it’s eerie that he knows that he was. But it sounds like a blessing, if anything, and Colson tries to get away as unnoticed as possible.

[Cyrus] DJ Dumbass sent a photo to Bastards Incorporated. [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: JUPITER WHERE U @ UR BOYFRIENDS ESCAPING [Jupiter] Electra Complex 😘: none of your business [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: :O [Penelope] the only valid lee: they’re really in character ;) [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: lmao what if i sent a screenshot to lola [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: Jup [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: @Electra Complex 😘 Penelope changed Cyrus’s nickname to QUIT SNITCHIN MFKER. [Cyrus] QUIT SNITCHIN MFKER: they’re not even RESPONDING [Cyrus] QUIT SNITCHIN MFKER: @Electra Complex 😘 this is the fuckin funniest i can’t believe you’ve been possessed by the spirit of 80s mom on tonight of all nights [Penelope] the only valid lee: since they aren’t here to defend themselves, cyrus im gonna rip out ya spine mortal kombat style [Seo] King of the Ripsticks and [Cerie] Evil Cyrus ❤️ reacted.  [Cerie] Evil Cyrus: a threat jup would be proud of [Penelope] the only valid lee ❤️ reacted.  [Cyrus] QUIT SNITCHIN MFKER: thats fair

Jupiter doesn’t mind, just this once, that history, in it’s own twisted way, repeats itself. If both of them look a little too pleased, a little too rumpled, no-one comments; it’s in the spirit of the film after all.

[mercerislandbooks]

October Grab Bag

We’re in the last three months of the year. I’ve noticed the light changing and the leaves falling and all I want to do is read books that make me happy. Here’s a collection of books that have been a pleasure to read! 

Happiness for Beginners by Katherine Center

This is a reissue of an earlier Katherine Center title after the success of her last three books, How to Walk Away, Things You Save In a Fire, and What You Wish For. Sometimes in earlier books you can tell that an author hasn’t quite hit their stride yet, but I found Happiness for Beginners a totally satisfying reading experience. And her protagonist, Helen, though recovering from a divorce, wasn’t paralyzed in the hospital or suffering from seizures, so she is already starting ahead. Helen signs up for a wilderness survival course in the backcountry of Wyoming in an attempt to find herself again a year after divorcing her husband. Never mind that the course she’s chosen to do is regularly reviewed as being dangerous and the participants prone to injury. Or that her brother’s friend, Jake, has also enrolled in the same course. Or that when Helen actually gets there she realizes she’s the oldest person on the program. Helen is determined to make the most of her experience and no matter how much she struggles to find her footing, sometimes literally, she keeps going. Even though there’s a delicious thread of romance throughout, what I enjoyed just as much was how Helen is brave enough to keep uncovering and admitting to herself who she is and what she wants. For anyone who wants a truly happy read, the clue is in the title.

The Switch by Beth O’Leary

I listened to the audiobook of this from Libro.fm in the middle of our two weeks of smoke, staying inside with the windows closed, knitting and glued to the speaker. It was a very good distraction. I’m sure reading the paper book would be just as good, but I loved that there were separate narrators for the two main characters, Eileen and Leena. Eileen is an eighty year old woman, newly single, living in a Yorkshire village and longing for a new beginning. Leena is her granddaughter, living in London and struggling after a grief-filled year. They decide to switch living situations for 6 weeks, giving Eileen a chance to try dating in London and living with Leena’s flat mates, while Leena moves to her grandmother’s cottage and looks after Eileen’s “little projects”, like walking a neighbor’s large and energetic puppy and participating in the Neighborhood Watch meetings. Neither Eileen nor Leena are comfortable sitting still, so they both throw themselves into their new situations. I loved how both Eileen and Leena were able to find people to help and be helped by, proving that it’s important to have a variety of ages in any circle of friends. From Eileen playing matchmaker to Leena’s best friend, to Leena befriending Eileen’s crotchety next door neighbor, to antics at the village May Day festival, this was a delight from beginning to end.

The Faithless Hawk by Margaret Owens

This was another audiobook “read” and one I was very excited to get to, because it’s the sequel to The Merciful Crow, a YA fantasy I had read and loved last year. What I didn’t know going in is that The Faithless Hawk is book two of a duology, which means, for those of you who have been burned by long fantasy series before, this is an entirely manageable, and now complete, series. I read a lot of fantasy because I like it, but I do recognize that much of it falls into similar lines. It’s a lovely surprise to be put in a world that feels so fresh and well designed that I’m reminded of what the best of fantasy can be. This world has a highly divided caste system, where the dregs of the society are the Crows, the ones who have been designated to deal with the victims of plague, and forced to wander the roads. Fie is the young chief in waiting of her band of Crows, and at the start of The Merciful Crow, they are called to the palace to deal with a prince supposedly dying of the plague. But things are not what they seem (are they ever?) and before she knows it, Fie and her band are on the run, dragging a royal runaway with them. Listening to the second half of Fie’s journey, I constantly thought how is she going to survive this impossible situation? Local author Margaret Owens crafted an action-packed and extremely clever plot and I listened in my car and on my lunch breaks to find out what happened next. Fair warning, it could be gruesome at times, which I find an audiobook heightens. Her commentary on social divisions and the investment of those in power to keep their power by any means necessary was spot on. By the end all I could do was stand back and smile at the way she pulled it all together. I highly recommend it for any fantasy lovers.

Hench by Natalie Zina Walschots

My most recent read of the bunch, I finished this the other morning. Kelleen, and then Nancy Shawn, recommended it to me, with Kelleen warning me that there were some parts that might be a little much. There were parts I had to skim read, the end especially, but overall it was so compelling I couldn’t put it down. Featured in this month’s Indie Next, Hench is about Anna, a temp worker, a “Hench”, for villains. Though generally, and happily, hired to do data entry, her most recent placement ends up resulting in a disastrous encounter with a so-called hero. Anna is dismissed as being collateral damage and left to a slow recovery and a simmering rage. As she digs into the true cost heroes cause the world, her work catches the attention of a shadowy super villain. Anna’s voice is dry and pragmatic, but also engaging and authentic. Several plot twists kept me guessing at the story’s ultimate direction and the last line is absolutely perfect. This is for anyone interested in a dark take on a world with heroes and villains, with a side of office politics.

Bonus Pick: Tuesday Mooney Talks to Ghosts by Kate Racculia

Now in paperback! Kelleen and I both loved this. When an eccentric and Edgar Allan Poe obsessed billionaire dies, his will is published in the paper, promising an inheritance to anyone who can untangled his clues. The writing is fantastic and the characters are beautifully layered. This would be a perfect October read.

I hope one (or more) of these fantastic books finds their way into your hands. Happy October reading!

-- Lori

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Trick or Steve (One Shot)

chHello boo!! I are here to request a Steve x Reader halloween one shot. Where the reading is out trick or treating and runs into a few VERY realistic looking Avengers. Who she then awkwardly learns later on, were actually the real Avengers. Not just guys in costumes. 🤣 can’t wait to read what you come up with for this in Octobeeeeeeer!! 😍😍😍 eeek! So excited!!

As requested by @katurrade! I’ll be posting 4 Halloween themed one shots this month in celebration of over 100 followers and SPOOPY SEASON!!! Hope you enjoy!

In Y/N Y/L/N format.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Rating: PG 13 for violence, language, alcohol, party scene, adult themes (ish)

Words: 5,341

AU because no one died in Endgame, Steve didn’t go back. I can’t move on.

Summary: You’re taking your niece and nephews Trick or Treating proves to be an event in itself, but running into three of the Avengers was not part of your plan.

No beta and so I only own the mistakes and the reader!

Trick or Steve

Take the kids trick or treating your sister said. It will be fun she said.

And so here you were, taking yet another picture of yet another group of knock-off Avengers at precisely six thirty on the evening of Halloween, listening as your two nephews and niece squealed over the men dressed in painstakingly obvious mass produced costumes. They had been nice enough sure, one poorly body painted Hulk giving the kids some of the candy out of his bag when they complained the houses they had been hitting during the night were being stingy with their offerings. A  very tan, we’re talking spent- his-whole-summer-on-a-cruise-ship –in-the-Bahamas tan Hawkeye helping the youngest of the three pose correctly. It was quite cute.

“My feet hurt!” The five year old aforementioned child whined and you were suddenly aware of two things.

One, you were in no rush to have children of your own.

Two, you were entirely too sober for this.

~~~Earlier~~~

“Andy will you stand still? I need to fix your left wing.” You huffed, hot glue gun locked and loaded as you stared down at the fidgeting five year old. The living room was silent other than the preening of your sister, too caught up in snapping a thousand pictures to help you with her own kids. Gee thanks for the help Sis.

Your peripheral vision caught your niece reaching to grasp at her newly straight long blonde hair, your voice making her jump. “Hana don’t touch your hair it’s still hot from the straight iron!”

“Yea Hana leave your hair alone!” Her twin brother mocked whilst opening his third piece of candy. You raised an eyebrow as you directed your playful scolding his direction.

“Liam you take one more piece of candy out of that dish and I’m not taking you!”

“Sorry Ant.” The chorus of small voices around you had a hint of a smile cracking at your lips as you tried to remain stern. After a few extremely short minutes of holding Andy’s cardboard wing at a forty five degree angle, it looked like you had finally managed to get them even in height.

“There! Everyone ready to go?” You sat back on your heels to look at the three, a big smile overcoming your features as they all got excited over their outfits.

“But Ant,” Andy exclaimed, pointing to your sock clad feet, “You’re not wearing any shoes!”

“Thanks Buddy, you’ve just saved my entire Halloween!” You snatched your nephew and flew him through the air of the living room, the small human giggling and squealing as you made whooshing noises, his arms out in front of him. Whatever kept him in good spirits and helped the glue dry faster. Placing Andy on the floor of the foyer you made a quick grab at your heeled boots that sat by the door, zipping them up to just above your knees before standing to look in the mirror.

The black tactical suit you had made yourself looked great, the matte fabric the perfect choice for your costume. You had taken a few liberties with the original suit design, trading the slightly loose pants for something a bit more feminine and curve hugging, eighty-sixing the knee coverings and opting for sleek heeled boots instead of chunky combat ones. You were sure your feet would hate you later, but Carpe Diem right? The black straps and buckles were still covering the top half of you, although you had chosen to turn them into more of a corset of sorts, your chest pushed up under the dark gray vest you had made. It wasn’t overly cool outside so you went sleeveless, allowing for more mobility. You readjusted your hair, smoothing away any fly aways of your current bobbed style. At least you didn’t have to wear a wig. Readjusting the straps that held your very fake guns to your thighs you wrapped your hands around the handles of the three appropriately painted jack o’lanterns, the plastic thunking together as you passed them to their owners, the kids pooling around you to get a final group picture. You headed out into the crisp air as your sister waved you on, saying she and her husband would see you all later at Maria Hill’s party.

That was an hour and three groups of Avenger wannabes ago.

Of course the kids all but tackled their respective counter parts, save for Andy. You felt bad that no one had dressed up as Falcon yet, but you were constantly assuring the slightly upset child that he would see him tonight. You hoped anyway.

It was when you finished sacking the last house on the block when you saw them.

“ANT LOOK IT’S HIM IT’S HIM!!!” Andy’s shrill voice shot off with the rest of his body as he sprinted as fast as his small legs could carry him towards the three men, one of them no doubt dressed as The Falcon. You groaned as the two twins followed suit, racing to catch up, and then outrun their youngest sibling to the group of guys. You silently prayed this would be the last time for the night, your phone only able to hold so many pictures.

As you reached the three kids, once again mooning over the “superheroes” you couldn’t help but notice that their outfits looked extremely authentic. And they were equally extremely good looking. Thor’s hair was perfect, Falcon’s gapped tooth smile made you smile back. Hell even Captain America had an ass on him that made you want to sing the national anthem. Out of tune and all. Your face flushed as you came up to them, the kids talking a mile a minute and their questions making your face burn.

“Well if it isn’t the Walking Lightning Rod, Bird Brain, and America on Ice. You guys look great, did you assemble the rest of the girl scout troop or is it just you three tonight? Sorry about the kiddos. Wish I could say they’re mine, but they aren’t. Thanks in advance for being nice to them, they kinda can outrun me in these heels.” Your greeting forced the three men to break their eye contact with their miniature versions to give you a quick once over. The man dressed as Falcon took one look at your costume and about died.

“YOU DRESSED UP AS BARNES?!” He exclaimed, voice laced with gulps of air and hard laughter as you adjusted the duct tape and silver painted left arm you had fabricated. You noticed the blue eyes of Captain America’s wander over your figure as Falcon bent at the waist, trying to catch his breath and failing miserably. “Sorry it’s just…” He breathed, standing back up to fully give you a once over, “You managed to make him look good. And that’s a big deal. Doesn’t she look amazing Steve?”

The man in the mask sputtered out jumbled words in agreement, and you felt your face grow hot even though your smile grew. He took a breath and composed himself “What’s…what’s your name Doll?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, and my eyes are up here Mr. American Dream.” You caught him staring at your chest through your mostly unzipped vest as he awkwardly cleared his throat, his face a few shades of pink that you were quickly finding adorable.

“So, ahem, why the Winter Soldier?” His blue eyes sparkled when he talked to you, and man you’d be lying through your teeth if you said they weren’t making you feel some things. Out of all the Captain Americas you had met this evening, this one was very quickly becoming your favorite. You admired the long hard lines of his body, that suit not leaving much to the imagination. Jesus you could pray with your knees upward with him anytime. You snapped your head up realizing what you were doing and forced your mind to focus.

“Well it was either him or Stark, and I don’t have the face for a goatee.”

“You would have made a hilarious Tony!” Sam was laughing again, and you were trying to hold your own inside. His joyous noises were infectious.

“But what’s with your arm?” The star spangled man stuttered and you smirked, showing the kids handy work in the form of “get well soon”s, hearts and happy faces.

“Ah well you see,” You leaned in closer to the man, motioning the other two closer to you, “The kids uh, the kids think he just hurt it really bad and that it’s in a cast. I don’t have the heart to tell them the truth. Especially Andy, he’s really sensitive.” You looked pointedly down to the five year old who was clinging to the last of the three as if his life depended on it.

The Falcon gave a smiling nod before crouching down to unwind the child in question from around his legs, chuckling as the kid attempted to hold on tighter. “So your name’s Andy huh? That’s a pretty cool name kid. I’m Sam. I like your costume.”

“My Ant made it for me! I wanted to be you because I think Falcon is the coolest!” Andy pumped his fist in the air with a shrieking holler that reminded you for the eighth time that night you were too sober for this shit. But you couldn’t help but smile as he continued to gush over his favorite super hero, your heart warming to see him get the interaction you’d been hoping for all night. “He can fly!!”

“Did you make all of your garments then?” Thor’s voice was deep, booming, and beautiful and for a second you almost regretted not dressing up as him, giving him a small nod. “They are exceptional Lady Y/N.” You scoffed, waving off the compliment although it was the first one you had gotten all night.

“Yea Ant is the best fairy godmother in town!” Hana squeaked, twirling around in circles to show off her red cape that hung from her shoulders. “She worked super hard for months so we could all be our favorites tonight! Even our mom and dad have costumes!”

“So I am your favorite hero then?” Thor inquired, taking a knee to look at the small blonde girl.

“Yep! You control lightning and we both have blonde hair, and you’re really nice to girls. My momma says it’s cause your momma raised you right, and that’s why you have a kind smile. I don’t know what that means but my momma is always right.” Hana smiled, showing the tall man her missing two front teeth, who looked like he just about melted into a puddle at the girl’s statement. He opened his arms and before you could object your niece ran into them, hugging the man fiercely.

“Wow little one you are incredibly strong!” He complimented her, breaking away as she fell into a fit of giggles. “What is your name?”

“Hana!” Came the squeak of your niece, beaming with pride.

“My name’s Liam and I think Captain America is the best!” Liam piped up, finally finding his voice and bringing a large smile to his counterpart, who reached his hand out to give him a high five from his waist. “You were frozen! You have super strength and you’re like really really old.” Sam snorted at that as Liam went to cover his backside. “Like a cool old though! Not like my dad old.”

“Nice save Li,” You rolled your eyes as the man in blue laughed heartily at how much Liam looked like he was going to spontaneously combust from embarrassment.

“So how old are all of you?” Sam questioned, finally giving in and hoisting Andy up to sit on his hip, you rubbing your temple in exasperation. These kids.

“I’m seven and the oldest!” Hana called, Liam shoving into her slightly.

“Only by three minutes.” She stuck her tongue out at her twin, Andy staring down at hand, hardened expression on his features as he thought up his answer. His face lit up as he swung his whole hand out, nearly falling out of Sam’s grip as his shifted his body weight in excitement.

“I’M THIS MANY!” He promptly smacked Sam in the face as he held up his small chubby digits into his field of vision.

“Oh I am so sorry, Andy my dude you gotta apologize for hitting the nice man.” You lightly scolded the child, his face falling as he avoided his gaze and stared at his bucket.

“Sorry mister Falcon sir.”

Sam grinned as he put the kid down, “It’s alright Andy, I accept your apology. And you can call me Sam. Now how about we take a photo huh?”

All the kids cheered as you pulled your phone out from your cleavage, watching Steve’s eyes widen at just where you hid your electronic device.

“Alright kids, pose like you’re about to save the city!” You snapped multiple shots, the kids breaking into different stances with their idols. Sam offered to take a picture of you next to Captain America, and after much convincing from two particular seven year olds you allowed him to oblige. You pulled out one of your guns and stood back to back with him, both of you laughing at the absurdity of it all. After he had finished capturing a few memories for you the group went to separate.

“Alright kids, we’re losing candy time and we still got hit up the rich people before we head to Miss Hill’s house for her Halloween Party! So tell the nice men goodbye and move your butts!” The kids nodded at your order, hugging the men and saying thank you.

“Miss Hill? Like Maria Hill?” Steve asked, you nodding.

“Yea she’s having a party, we worked together briefly and have stayed friends ever since. You know her?”

“We’ve..uh heard of her parties before.” The blonde smiled tightly, your bright smile making his pulse quicken.

“Cool beans well small world! If you’re in the neighborhood stop by yea? I’m sure she won’t mind! And I wouldn’t mind seeing you again blue eyes.” With a small flirty wave in Steve’s direction you were gone, moving to catch up with Hana and Andy already ahead in their trek. You came to a stop when you realized Liam wasn’t with you, turning your body to motion him with a “come on” motion. He held up a finger to you and you sighed, pointing to your nonexistent watch.

“Pssst! Mister America!” Steve crouched in front of Liam, who had called him over and was now digging through his pumpkin vigorously. You had turned your back, not wanting to intrude on their private moment, missing your cheeky nephew pull out one of your business cards from his plastic treat holder.

“What’s this?” Steve whispered, Liam’s eyes glinting with mischief as he smiled broadly in your direction. Thor was speaking into his comms link while Sam edged closer to the two to eavesdrop. Which wasn’t hard because Liam hadn’t quite mastered whispering yet.

“That’s my aunt’s number. You’re her favorite and she thinks you’re a total hottie. My mom says she needs to fall and love and get married so her womb doesn’t shrivel up and she dies alone with like eighty nine cats. So if you like her you should ask her out. She likes coffee and pink roses but hates bad breath. And A-holes who don’t use their blinker! Okay, bye!”

Sam saved his laughter for when Liam was long out of range, racing to grasp your hand as you walked away with the rest of the kids. Steve only smiled warmly at the slightly crumpled card.

“Dude I need that kid as my wing man.” Sam was shaking his head when Thor came back to them. “Nat have news?”

“Yes she believes they found the location of the Arsonist’s next target.”

With that the three men were back on the mission, their moment of carefree fun over. That was the whole reason they were in the neighborhood patrolling as it were. There had been six massive fires over the course of the last two months, all with the same cause behind them. They had gotten a letter earlier that day saying that the arsonist, Mr. Ash, yes that was what he had chosen to go by, would be striking this very evening. The team had split up to cover more ground as Nat and Pepper worked back at the tower to crack his pattern and thus tracking him down to his next target to apprehend him. They had all agreed to go to Agent Hill’s party in celebration after they caught the asshole, but now Steve was more determined than ever to make sure they made it. Even if it was just to see you again.

~~~Two Hours Later~~~

“Come on Ant, you got this!”

“Yea you can do it!”

The kids cheered you on from the front porch of Maria Hill’s home, the large basin of water and floating apples the only thing in front of you. You gave them a wink before putting your hands behind your back. Quickly finding your target you felt the cold splash of chilling water hit your senses as you dove after you prize, the kids clapping loudly as you emerged victorious. Biting into the tart granny smith you stood up wiping your eyes and smearing some of your mascara in the process.

“Pretty impressive stuff there Y/N.” Your vision adjusted to the figure of Maria, who was holding out an orange solo cup and a towel to wipe your face, which you happily took.

“Helps when you have your own cheerleading section.” You shrugged, taking a large gulp of the apple cider that had been mixed with fireball whisky. The alcohol burned your throat for a second as you weren’t expecting that much to be in it. Note to self, don’t have too many of these. She laughed and handed you your apple back, taking the slightly damp towel from you.

The five of you wandered into the spacious house where you could see everyone in costume, loud party music blaring through every room of the house, kids and adults alike playing games like Sorry and Pin the head on the Zombie. The rooms were all lit in different eerie colors, streamers and scary window clings decorated the house. There had to be at least 60 people here, and that wasn’t including those bobbing for apples or playing yard Jenga outside.

“Hey Ant Y/N look!” Liam pointed to the large T.V screen, you turning your body to face it and feeling your entire body go rigid. “It’s the Avengers from earlier! They were the real deal!”

Your eyes widened in shock as you instantly recognized three of the men from earlier, albeit their perfectly authentic suits were just a bit charred, they still looked incredible. And you looked like The Incredible Idiot. They were exiting a building that had been on fire, Thor holding a screaming man while Steve and Sam went to help put out the flames with the local fire department. You were pretty sure your face could give the warehouse a run for its money with how hot you were. You swallowed hard at the questioning look on Maria’s face, opting to just pull your phone from its hiding place and shoving it in her hand once you pulled up the photos.

“Holy shit Y/N, you didn’t tell me they were…” She tried to cover her escaping giggles with her hand as you began looking for a rock to climb under. She especially found the picture of you and the very real and very handsome Steve Rogers to be absolutely hilarious.

“How was I supposed to know Maria?! They were like the fourth group of Avengers and I was completely done with the whole thing by group two!” You whined, sitting down in a large overstuffed recliner with an ungraceful thump. This was single handedly the most embarrassing moment of your entire existence. And that was saying something. You had once forgotten to wear pants to school your sophomore year of high school and had to loan a pair of god awful gym shorts from your best guy friend at the time. They did not smell clean and didn’t match your bright orange fall sweater. It was also Winter, and the shorts were two sizes too big. You never thought anything would top that. “I’m just going to die here now.”

Needless to say between finding out they had met their actual heroes and all of the candy, the kids were absolute beasts to put to bed. Maria had been kind enough to let them crash on an air mattress in a spare room upstairs when your sister and brother in law texted saying they were running a bit behind. They had won first place in the costume contest at their party, so they were celebrating a little longer than intended. When you realized your plans had changed, you had opted to have a couple more drinks. It’s not like the absolutely attractive earth savers would actually show up.

“Heeey the party still going on?!” Sam’s deep voice came bellowing through the house while you were draining your third drink, nearly choking as the three Avengers from earlier, and an extra few including the one you had dressed as entered the living room. You quickly dodged your way into the kitchen, wondering silently if you could fit in the very tiny water heater closet and they wouldn’t even know you were there. You listened as the room gave them a round of applause, finally reaching your “fuck it” meter for the night and pouring yourself another drink. You were never a lightweight, but the effects of the booze would at least keep you from being a total freak when you came in contact with them.

“Y/N you’re still here, how fortuitous!” Thor clapped loudly causing you to jump and sputter into your cup. You steeled your nerves and turned around and felt your face pale for the second time that night. That was a habit you didn’t need to be forming.

“So I am.” You pretended to shrug in indifference, a small shy smile on your features. “You guys were pretty great out there tonight, thanks for catching that asshole and saving that family. Guess that’s why Stark keeps you around huh?”

“Well it’s isn’t because they’re pretty to look at, but everyone’s a critic. Tony Stark. Hi, great to meet you.” The man wearing a simple “This is my Halloween costume” tee shirt approached you, you smiling wider and shaking his extended hand. “I see you’ve met my coworkers. Wilson told me about the names you called them tonight, they were great. Mind if I steal them?”

“Oh umh, um, no not at all!”

“Great, because I was going to regardless.” He winked and moved to the side, allowing you to introduce yourself to Clint and Natasha, who shook your hands with happy chuckles.

“Nice arm.”

“Thanks, made it myself.” You winked at the woman who shook her head at you, Bucky coming up with to stand next to Steve, giving you a once over.

“See Barnes didn’t I tell you? She made you look good for once!” Sam slapped the quiet man on the back, earning a glare from his otherwise stoic face.

“Shut up Wilson.” Bucky responded, rubbing the back of his neck. “But yea, you actually look pretty great. I can see why Steve here was all bent out of shape thinkin he wasn’t going to see you again tonight.” Came his gruff reply, his blonde friend groaning and jabbing an elbow into his side. “Ouch. What where you’re throwing that thing Punk.”

You brought your vision to look at the handsome Captain, wondering if it were possible to drown in his blue eyes. You felt yourself smiling, your eyes crinkling as you took a step closer to him, watching him swallow hard. “Awwwh. Did you miss me Captain?”

“Are you kidding? He’s the whole reason why we had to work double time at tracking the arsonist down, just so he could see you.” Sam grinned, running to hide behind a very amused Tony as Steve contemplated murder for the sixth time that evening. “He wouldn’t shut up about you boo..”

“Mister Sam… Falcon…sir?” You were never so thankful for a child in your entire life. All of you turned to look at Andy who stood alone in the kitchen doorway, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. His wings were long since off of him, you knowing full well with his thrashing the cardboard and hot glue would not withstand the rage of a five year old with constant night terrors.

“Yea buddy it’s me. Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

“You have a nightmare again Andy?” His teary nod at you had you placing your cup on the counter, leaning down to motion him to you. He hurried into your arms, you effortlessly picking him up, taking your silver arm covering off to allow yourself more range of motion as you cradled your sobbing nephew.

“Shhh you’re okay my dude, I’ve got you.” You muttered, listening to him cry uncontrollably into your neck, the evidence of his emotions soaking into your skin. “Tell me what you dreamt.”

“It was AWFUL Ant!” The boy exclaimed, pushing off of you slightly to look at Sam, tears still stinging his eyes. “Yo…you guys..didn…didn’t make it…out and the the building..” He started crying again and you felt the whole room melt around you.

“Hey Andy it’s okay see, we’re okay though.” Sam whispered reassuringly, asking you without words to take the child, which you gave him over with a nod. “See look, no harm done.” He let the little boy place his chubby hands all over his face, brushing over the soot and ash that had stuck to the man’s skin.

“…but what about smoke infal..mathc..ion? Momma says you can…di..die from too much smoke infalmathcion.” The brunette boy hiccupped at Sam, and you didn’t miss Tony’s huge smile at the kid’s difficulty at pronouncing big words.

“We’re gonna be fine. Don’t you worry. Takes a lot more than nasty smoke to take out the Avengers, don’t you think?”

“Y..yea! You guys are the best in the whole galaxy!” Andy cheered, as if he hadn’t had a complete meltdown just moments prior. Sam smiled back at him, turning his head to mouth a simple “I’m gonna keep him.”

You were almost tempted to let him, until you remembered he wasn’t yours.

“Hey there’s my little love bug!” Your sister cooed from the hallway, stopping for no one as she reached for her son, eager to hold him.

“Uh honey…” Your brother in law motioned to the group of super heroes, her face reddening as she looked at Natasha and Clint, who looked back at their doppelgangers with wide eyes. Tony and Thor howled with laugher as the pair took an extra step apart from each other as they took in your sister and his costumes. “I never thought we would meet like this. Man no one is going to believe me at the office on Monday.”

“Of course they will, you’ll have proof!” Tony belted, motioning for Maria to come and take pictures of everyone. You all elected to stand on the front yard, your sister going to drag the sleepy kids out of their slumber so they could be a part of it. After many different poses and many different phones later, everyone seemed happy with their captured memories.

“Night night Ant Y/N, sleep tight. Don’t let the bad guys bite!” Liam joked, the two of you breaking into your secret handshake.

“And if they do, I’ll beat them til they’re black and blue with my shoe!” You called back, hugging Hana and waving to Andy who was already nearly passed out in his dad’s arms. He gave a half wave back, all of their figures fading into the distance as they swam through the sea of parked cars.

The rest of the party cleared out a bit later, you staying behind to help clean up the apocalypse level mess in Hill’s house.

“You’re really great with kids Y/N.” Steve held the trash bag open as you piled cans and cups into it, meeting his gaze with a grin.

“Only because they’re related to me.” You admonished, the large man chuckling as you continued about the living room, you both being the only ones in there while the others helped take down decorations in the other rooms and outside. “Listen about earlier, I’m sorry if I may have seemed a little forward. I had no idea it was actually you and I’m not normally that flirty.”

“Ah I see. Well if it helps I’m not offended.”

You shot your head up to look at him, arm mid swipe to push more cups into the trash bag. “You’re…not?”

“Nope. Especially knowing I’m a total hottie, and your favorite. According to Liam anyway.” Your voice died in your throat as the man lost in time actually had the nerve to wink at you. You placed the cups in the bag, coming up to your full height to stare at him. Your feet were burning from the whole night in heels but you’d be damned if you backed down now. You didn’t know if you wanted to kill your nephew or hug him until he complained about it.

“Oh really? Well then can I ask you out for a cup of coffee sometime?” You spoke lightly, question almost coming out in a whisper on account of your nerves.

“Sure, I’ve got no plans in the morning.”

“Eleven work? I’ll be dead with a hangover until at least ten.” He laughed at your honesty, reaching to pull out his phone so you could type your number in. You procured your phone from its warm resting spot, taking extra care to slow your movements. Steve actually looked away from you after staring for a beat or two, his ears the same shade of pink from earlier. Cute.

“As long as we can yell at a-holes who don’t use their blinkers, sure.” Hug Liam it is. “There’s a café on 23rd and maple by the tower…”

“Queenie’s?” You finished, smiling brightly at Steve who nodded back enthusiastically. “Then it’s a date Cap.”

“Yep,” He pulled you into a surprising yet warm hug, you nose breathing him in and taking note that he smelled exactly how you thought he’d smell. All masculine and deep and smooth and rough and your brain stopped trying to think of good words to use. He offered to walk you to your sister’s house, a pensive look washing over you as you looked at the clean living room.

“What about saying goodbye to the others?”

“What, like you’re never going to see them again? Not if I can help it” He mentioned nonchalant, another blush sweeping over your face as he bluntly admitted to seeing you more than once. You only nodded, accepting defeat as he put his arm around your shoulders to keep you warm on your walk home, not that you needed it with the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

A short fifteen minute stroll of content and happy chitchat about yourselves later you were at your sibling’s door, finding the spare key in a ceramic frog just along the edge of the fish pond that sat on the left side of their stairs.

“Well this is me, see you at eleven hundred?” He smiled at you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear before placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“Eleven-hundred. Pleasant screams Y/N.” You outwardly giggled at his pun as he pulled back, turning towards the street and walking away with a noticeable pep in his step.

Take the kids trick or treating your sister said. It will be fun she said.

She was right for once.

End

Taglist: @kaytizzle @cuffski @giggleberts @pies-wands-and-more @cuffski @chrisevansfanfic @zombiepotterfour 

[oldsolidbooks]

I decided that I should, at least once in a while, do review books on here. It is a book blog, after all, and I originally intended to publish reviews on here. Certainly not each time I finish a book, but once in a while for sure. So that is that.

I want to review a book that I am very fond of - in fact, since I prefer not to dwell on disappointing reads (and usually not even finish them) most if not all books I review are books that I am fond of, but this book is particularly dear to me.

HIS golden locks Time hath to silver turn'd;   O Time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing! His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurn'd,   But spurn'd in vain; youth waneth by increasing: Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen; Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green. His helmet now shall make a hive for bees;   And, lovers' sonnets turn'd to holy psalms, A man-at-arms must now serve on his knees,   And feed on prayers, which are Age his alms: But though from court to cottage he depart, His Saint is sure of his unspotted heart. And when he saddest sits in homely cell,   He'll teach his swains this carol for a song,— 'Blest be the hearts that wish my sovereign well,   Curst be the souls that think her any wrong.' Goddess, allow this aged man his right To be your beadsman now that was your knight.

— George Peele, A Farewell to Arms or The Old Knight

It is this poem that stars the book, and moves like a thread through the entire book. Knights and beadsmen, and poetry, are as ever-present as trees and rosemary. The last two lines - Goddess, allow this aged man his right // To be your beadsman now that was your knight. - are the very ground that the Manor house and village of Belmaray are built on.

First of all, I’d like to mention, that while this book is many things that I adore, it’s also many things that reviewers often tend to dislike: it values people over plot, it can be slow and quiet and very descriptive, there’s not much physical action or suspense in the traditional sense, it’s full of literary references, and imbued by Elizabeth Goudge’s very particular sort of spirituality, that’s often found to be too deeply based on nature by Christians, and too Christian by everyone else, but that’s just right for me, personally. And it doesn’t fit in a defined genre either.

It is, essentially, about people who are, over the course of the book, growing much happier than before. That is, I think, the most simple way to describe it, and the most truthful, too. I’ve seen descriptions and reviews that said it was about a particular character, but there is no true central character. It is told from many perspectives, without anyone taking the lead. It has been classified as a romance, but it is only so much a romance, as that romantic love is one of many aspects of it. It is very much a story about love - about human love, whether romantic or platonic or familial, about God’s love, of course, about the love people have for nature and animals, and for their home, and for themselves.

But what’s truly the core of the story is that a really small event can have the greatest effects on many people’s lives, and that it’s often the seemingly small things that truly matter. It’s that people can be sad without anything obviously being wrong about their lives, because they don’t understand each other, or themselves, and sometimes because they cannot really bring up the courage and decide to be happer than before. It’s about the great change a kind word can make, about the immense effect of pure determination to be good to others and to onself, the power of attitude. The gentle and monumental butterfly effect of human kindness.

And I love what a conscious thing kindness is in this book, and goodness and niceness is. I love how being friendly and nice is not portayed as a sort of natural talent or gift, but a deliberate skill that is worth exercising - and never too late to learn. And I like the distinction she makes - because in this book (and others of her’s) there’s two sorts of, let’s call it performative goodness - one that is false and dishonest, almost sinister, and one that is actually a sign of a longing to be and act good, and a way to achieve it. Being kind to people, even if you don’t exactly feel like it, is not akin to fake friendliness, it is as good and true as anything. Actual dishonest friendliness is not having an unfriendy word and then saying something nice - it’s saying something nice to a person’s face and then betraying them in some way. Being nasty does not necessarily make a person more authentic, it’s not a sign of one’s honesty. But on the other hand - even the kindest person is mean or unfriendly or nasty at times, and that’s alright too.

The reasons for unhappiness are often small - or they appear small - but all the more realistic, heartfelt, genuine. These characters are very much people, and their worries at times silly and yet having a frightful effect on their lives, often through years of growing inside their minds. On the other hand, deeper issues are very much a matter, mental illness and trauma never being glossed over, or ridiculed. It’s written and set in the 50s, so the horrors of the war have not yet grown distant, not to mention other difficulties of this, and the previous decades.

I’ve said it is a character driven book, and must add that I love these characters. I love that they are people, each and every one of them so delightfully human. And I love the way Elizabeth Goudge wrote children. Children, in adult novels, are so often reduced to props or plot devices, and her children are people, as characters in all ways equal to her adult characters. The oldest point of view characters in this book are in their eighties, the youngest is five years old, with others of all age groups in between them, and all of them are written with equal care and dedication. The characters’ ages do however, greatly affect the way they are written, and how they think and what they do, in good and bad - although Goudge fortunately refrained from assigning a particular age group a particular view or way of life.

It is also of note that all characters are beautifully flawed, and steadily grow over the course of the book, though not with leaving every flaw or fault behind. One character, sadly, chooses not to grow, and though there is no villain in this book (just as there is no hero) this particular character is an unconventional choice for the only truly negative character, although a very good and convincing one.

There is, it seems, a book for almost everything. That is, of course, a good thing. But it often seems to me, that although all sorts of great ideas and experiences, all big and visible and obvious things can be found in literature rather easily, it’s the quiet and small things that are truly hard to find, and even harder to look for. I certainly did not look for the things I found in this book, but I found them and I am glad I did. I often found that some emotions, some little human interactions, fragments of something that lies halway between feeling and thought, are in a way omitted from the majority of literature and other sorts of stories, that the larger things - even the unusual and controversial things - are not. I often wondered whether these things were so normal that nobody thought them worth mentioning, or so strange that nobody else felt them or, if they felt them, dared to write them down. It was a sort of relief to read, all of a sudden, of such little, yet significant things that were so familiar to me, and so unusual to read on a page. It went further even - at times I found myself reading what I had felt myself, but never knew how to put into words. I’ve had this sort of experience with other books - and it’s one of the most beautiful things that can happen while reading a book - but throughout this one in particular, and it was at times rather confusing, even unsettling for a moment, but in the end always comforting.

Or to quote C. S. Lewis:  “A book sometimes crosses ones path which is so like the sound of ones native language in a strange country that it feels almost uncivil not to wave some kind of flag in answer.”

It’s that sort of book for me.

The Rosemary Tree is a Spring book. The air of the cold, sweet Spring, the sunlight and the morning dew, and smell of all things green and growing are what carries the story. The birdsong, most of all. It is a book about change, change for the better, even though not always in the originally desired way. Goudge’s gorgeous descriptions of nature and the changes it goes through in the Spring months work perfectly well with the developments in the characters lives. Birds, and trees, and flowers - everywhere, so vivid and colourful that the book could nearly burst, yet so gentle and elegant that, in the end, it won’t. Her prose is gorgeous, but never purple, though maybe a slight shade of lavender. That’s because her writing can be sweet, but never in a sticky, draining way. It’s fresh, full of cold morning air and the smell of herbs.

And of course, there’s one thing you can always rely on with Ms Goudge - there are always dogs.

[littlelovelyspiderling]

The Photo Shoot

Here’s my take on the adorable request given to me by  @a-bad-actor !! Hope you like it!

Tony needs a photo of a young and happy face to put on Stark Industry’s website and requests Peter’s aid. When the grumpy kid can’t seem to smile normally, Stark takes matters into his own hands.

word count: 1,800

“Mr. Stark, couldn’t you find someone else to do this…?”

Peter squinted uncomfortably beneath the harsh lights, pulling at his collar. He felt like a bug being studied under a microscope—a bright, judgmental microscope. Tony Stark stood behind the camera, fiddling with the settings.

“Nope. You’re the only intern that’s here this late. And the youngest, therefore the most endearing and inspirational to potential applicants.”

“But I’m not even a real intern, Mr. Stark. It’s a front, remember?”

“Who cares? You think the 20-something-year-old grad students scrolling through the Stark Industry’s website are going to know that?” He narrowed his eyes as he racked the lens. “I just want a nice picture of a welcoming face to put on the online brochure. It’ll help encourage youngsters such as yourself to apply for all the internship positions and project grants my company is now offering.”

“That’s really cool of you, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, swallowing. “But, um…I’m just not very photogenic. I hate getting my picture taken. And my face is crazy broken out right now, so can’t you just hire someone tomorrow to pose for—?”

“The re-vamped website goes live at midnight, so no.” Tony clicked one last button on the camera’s screen, then stepped away. “Relax, kid—you look fine. Just think how awesome it will be to show all your friends a pic of your handsome mug on Stark Industry’s home page.”

Peter hung his head. “Yeah. So awesome…”

Tony scoffed. “What’s your problem? I thought you’d love this.”

The kid shrugged haphazardly. “Whatever. Let’s just get it over with.”

“Alright then, grumpy pants,” he snorted. He held up the shutter remote and gave it a shake. “Say ‘cheese’.”

The smile Peter pasted on his face was so pathetic, Tony thought he was just holding back a sneeze. Or crushing something between his teeth. He stared at him with a mixture of confusion and amusement, waiting for him to actually attempt to smile, his finger hovering over the shutter release button.

“Uh…seriously? That’s the face you’re going with? That’s what you want a quarter million people to wake up to tomorrow morning?”

Peter huffed miserably. “I told you I’m bad at this, Mr. Stark.”

“Just smile. Like you always do. Don’t think about it so much.”

The kid rolled his eyes and tried again. This time, it looked like he was in actual, physical pain, like someone was holding a knife to his back and threatening to kill him if he didn’t pretend to look happy. 

And boy, was he bad at pretending. 

Tony took a picture just to see if he’d look any better on camera. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t. If anything, he actually looked worse. Stark couldn’t help but laugh.

“Geez, Pete, are you trying to look constipated? Is that the new fad among you Gen Z types? Cuz if so, you are killing it.”

Peter blushed and stared at the floor. “I hate you.”

Chuckling, Tony stepped forward. “Here,” he said, giving his shoulders a shake. “Loosen up. Don’t stand so stiffly.”

“Why don’t you just take a picture of yourself? You’re so much better at this kind of stuff.”

“The whole website is already plastered with my face. We need a dash of youth and freshness to spice things up.” He licked his fingers and ran them through Peter’s hair, making him grimace. “But if you want, I can show you how it’s done.”

He walked behind Peter and struck a few casual poses, boasting a subtle yet winning smile. He snapped a few photos just for show while the kid threw his hands in the air.

“But see, that’s what I’m saying—it’s easy for you. For me, it’s just…not. I can’t do this. I give up.”

Tony caught him before he could sulk away. “Just one more try, that’s all I’m asking.” He turned the dejected teen back to the camera. “Imagine you’re receiving an award, or smiling at a girl you like. Anything like that. Think of something that makes you genuinely happy, and channel that energy into a nice, natural smile. You can do it.” He took a few steps back and to the side. “I’ll stay behind you so you don’t feel pressured.”

Peter sighed helplessly and stared into the daunting eye of the lens. He tried his best to do as Stark said, he really did. It wasn’t working in the slightest, but that was okay. Because Tony didn’t expect it to work. He just needed something to keep the kid distracted while he executed his real plan to make the kid smile.

When Tony stopped firing the shutter, Peter figured he was doing something wrong, and let out a frustrated groan. “I’m telling you, Mr. Stark, I can’t do it. Either find some other stupid intern for your photo, or steal a stock pic from the Internet. I just—I can’t—”

Peter’s angry rant was interrupted by two hands seizing him around the middle and squeezing his sides just above his hips. The kid let out a shriek of surprise, followed by a flood of laughter.

“AHAhahack! Whahat the—?” He sprung away, wrapping his arms around his midsection, flustered to his core. “Mr. Stark! W-what was that for?”

“Ha! I knew that would work.” Tony stepped around him and turned the camera screen for Peter to see. “Look at that smile! It’s perfect!”

In the photo, Peter’s eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was wide with smiley laughter. His head was tilted back while his cheeks glowed a gentle pink. He looked truly, genuinely happy; Stark could hardly believe it, especially compared to the slew of depressing shots taken previously.

Upon seeing the picture, the kid’s face burned. “No, no, please don’t use that.”

“Why not? You look so happy. It’s like you’re in an Old Navy ad.”

“But it’s…embarrassing,” he murmured.

Tony smiled softly. “No. It’s cute. Anyone who sees it will love it.”

“Not me…”

Stark sighed and faced the camera back towards the teenager. “Fine. I guess we’ll just have to keeping taking more until there’s one we both like.”

Without hesitating, he marched up to him, causing Peter to wince. “W-wait, what—?” Before he could get away, Stark scooped the kid into his arms and started drilling his tummy with tickles, kneading his fingers up and down his sides. The response was hysterical and instantaneous.

“Whaha—AHAHA NOHOHO! M-Mihihihister Stahahahark!” He kicked and squirmed and laughed like crazy, grappling at Tony’s wrists, his face bright and happy. “Stohohahap—wahahahait! Eheeheehahaha!”

“But this is the only way to make you smile normally,” Stark replied, chuckling at Peter’s adorable squirminess, “which would’ve been nice to know about a lot sooner. Now I know exactly how to cheer you up whenever you’re being a grouch.”

Peter managed to flail right out of his arms, but that only led to Tony pinning him to the ground and spidering his fingers underneath the kid’s T-shirt, scribbling his bare tummy in tickles. His laugher jumped in both volume and octave; his wriggling transformed into wild floundering.

“AHAHAHAHAAA!” he cried, whipping his head back and forth, bucking and squealing like a helpless piglet. “OHO SHIHIHIHITNOHOHOHAHAHA!”

“All we need is one good picture we both agree on, and then we’re done. Since you’re so picky, I’m trying to make sure we get every angle.”

“AHAHAHANY ONE! USE AHAHAHAHANY ONE! I DOHOHOHOHON’T C-CAHAHARE HAHAHA!” Tony’s evil hands clawed all over his ribs, belly, and underarms, driving the ticklish teen mad with giggles. “JUHUHAHAST STOHOHAHAHAHAP! MIHIHISTER STAHAHAHARK! EHEHAHAHAHA!”

When Stark saw tears flooding the poor kid’s eyes as he fought pathetically to escape, he finally let up. Peter was left in a bundle on the floor, panting with relief. Tony smiled down at the giggly hero. He was so cute, it almost made him sick.

“You think we got one you might like?” he chuckled.

“M-Mihihister Stahark…” he moaned, laughter still clinging to his words. “Whyhyhy…”

Tony sighed solemnly and offered him a hand. “Look, if you really don’t want your picture on the website, I won’t put one on there.”

Peter stared up and him, blinking in surprise.

“I can figure something else out. Maybe stick some silly graphic on it. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Peter hesitantly accepted his help and stood, blushing at the floor. “N-no, it’s fine. Go ahead, I don’t care.”

“Yes you do.”

The teenager winced. Tony narrowed his eyes.

“Why? What’s got you so worried about it? 99% of the people who see your picture on there won’t even know you, and probably won’t pay it a second thought.”

“Yeah, but I…” He paused, licking his lips. “I don’t know. I’m used to seeing Spider-Man’s face online, in newspapers, whatever. It’s just freaky to think about my actual face on an important website, without my mask on.”

“Don’t you use Instagram and Snapchap or whatever? You post pics of your face on the Internet all the time.”

“Yeah, but I’m in control there. And my Instagram only has, like, eighty followers, so…” Peter scratched the back of his neck. “I just wish I could have my mask on for the photo. Could we do that instead? People would much rather see Spider-Man on your website than me.”

Stark’s heart tore as he stared down at the kid. At his center, Peter Parker was still just a teenager, with all fears and insecurities that came with it. Like any teenager, he’d much rather present a facade to the world than something authentic: his true self. Tony knew it could be scary. Releasing a slow breath, he placed his hand on his head and ruffled his hair.

“But they would be seeing Spider-Man. The real Spider-Man. The best part of Spider-Man.”

When Peter’s expression stayed stony, he fluttered his fingers against his neck, causing him to cringe and giggle.

“And I for one would much rather see Spider-Man’s smiling face than some dumb mask that hides it.”

Peter glanced up at him with a shy grin. It was the most endearing thing Stark had ever seen.

Tony walked back to the camera to look through the media. Not, of course, before snapping a quick photo once he was out of frame.

“Now come on. You pick which pic makes the final cut.”

…

As anticipated, the photo didn’t stir up much of a buzz. Peter did feel a bit like a celebrity among his friends, especially the ones who refused to believe that he worked with Tony Stark. Until now.

Peter would never admit that he actually liked the picture. And Tony would never admit that he had all the pictures from the laughter-filled photo shoot saved on his network, and that he would look at them as a choppy video sequence whenever he was feeling down.

[dailytafsirofquran]

Daily Tafsir of Ibn Kathir

The Story of Musa and Al-Khidr

The reason for Musa's conversation with the boy-servant, Yusha` bin Nun, was that he had been told about one of the servants of Allah at the junction of the two seas, who had knowledge which Musa had not been granted, so he wanted to travel to meet him. So he said to that boy-servant of his:

(I will not give up) meaning, I will keep on traveling,

(until I reach the junction of the two seas) meaning, the place where the two seas met.

(or a Huqub passes.) meaning, even if I have to travel for a very long time. Ibn Jarir (may Allah have mercy on him) said, "Some of the scholars of the Arabic language said that Huqub means a year in the dialect of ﴿the tribe of﴾ Qays,'' then he narrated that `Abdullah bin `Amr said, "Huqub means eighty years.'' Mujahid said, "Seventy years.'' `Ali bin Abi Talhah reported that Ibn `Abbas said that it means a lifetime. Qatadah and Ibn Zayd said likewise.

(But when they reached the junction of the two seas, they forgot their fish,) He had been commanded to carry a salted fish with him, and it had been said to him, when you lose the fish, that will be a sign that you have reached the right place. So they set out and traveled until they reached the junction of the two seas, where there was a spring called `Ayn Al-Hayat (the Spring of Life). They went to sleep there, and the fish felt the drops of that water, so it came back to life. It was in a vessel with Yusha`, upon him be peace, and it jumped out of the vessel towards the sea. Yusha` woke up and the fish fell into the water and started to swim through the water, leaving a track or channel behind it. Allah said:

(and it took its way through the sea as in a tunnel.) meaning, like going through a tunnel on land. Ibn Jurayj said, "Ibn `Abbas said, `It left a trace as if it were a rock.'"

(So when they had passed further on,) means, past the place where they had forgotten the fish. Forgetfulness is attributed to them both even though it was actually Yusha` who forgot. This is like the Ayah:

(Out of them both come out pearl and coral.) ﴿55:22﴾, although they come from the salt water, according to one of the two opinions. When they had passed one stage beyond the place where they had forgotten the fish,

(﴿Musa﴾ said to his boy-servant: "Bring us our morning meal; truly, we have suffered in this, our journey) meaning, their journey beyond the place where they should have stopped.

(Nasaban) means, exhaustion.

(He said: "Do you remember when we betook ourselves to the rock I indeed forgot the fish; none but Shaytan made me forget to remember it...'') Then he said,

(It took its course), meaning its path,

("...into the sea in a strange (way)!'' ﴿Musa﴾ said: "That is what we have been seeking.'') meaning, this is what we have been looking for.

(So they went back )

(their footsteps.)

(Then they found one of Our servants, on whom We had bestowed mercy from Us, and whom We had taught knowledge from Us.) This was Al-Khidr, peace be upon him, as is indicated by the authentic Hadiths narrated from the Messenger of Allah . Al-Bukhari recorded that Sa`id bin Jubayr said, "I said to Ibn `Abbas: `Nawf Al-Bikali claims that Musa, the companion of Al-Khidr was not the Musa of the Children of Israel.' Ibn `Abbas said, `The enemy of Allah has told a lie.' Ubayy bin Ka`b narrated that he heard the Messenger of Allah say,

(Musa got up to deliver a speech before the Children of Israel and he was asked, "Who is the most learned person among the people'' Musa replied, "I am.'' Allah rebuked him because he did not refer the knowledge to Allah. So Allah revealed to him: "At the junction of the two seas there is a servant of Ours who is more learned than you.'' Musa asked, "O my Lord, how can I meet him'' Allah said, "Take a fish and put it in a vessel and then set out, and where you lose the fish, you will find him.'' So Musa took a fish, put it in a vessel and set out, along with his boy-servant Yusha` bin Nun, peace be upon him, till they reached a rock (on which) they both lay down their heads and slept. The fish moved vigorously in the vessel and got out of it and fell into the sea and there it took its way through the sea (straight) as in a tunnel. Allah stopped the flow of water on both sides of the way created by the fish, and so that way was like a tunnel. When Musa got up, his companion forgot to tell him about the fish, and so they carried on their journey during the rest of the day and the whole night. The next morning Musa said to his boy-servant, ("Bring us our morning meal; truly, we have suffered much fatigue in this, our journey.'')

Musa did not get tired till he had passed the place that Allah had ordered him to look for. His boy-servant then said to him, ("Do you remember when we betook ourselves to the rock I indeed forgot the fish; none but Shaytan made me forget to remember it. It took its course into the sea in a strange way.'') There was a tunnel for the fish and Musa and his boy-servant were amazed. Musa said, ("That is what we have been seeking.'' So they went back retracing their footsteps.'') So they went back retracing their steps until they reached the rock. There they found a man covered with a garment. Musa greeted him. Al-Khidr said, "Is there such a greeting in your land'' Musa said, "I am Musa.'' He said, "Are you the Musa of the Children of Israel'' Musa said, "Yes,'' and added, "I have come to you so that you may teach me something of that knowledge which you have been taught.'' Al-Khidr said, ("You will not be able to have patience with me.) O Musa! I have some of Allah's knowledge which He has bestowed upon me but you do not know it; and you too, have some of Allah's knowledge which He has bestowed upon you, but I do not know it.'' فَقَالَ مُوسَى:

Musa said, ("If Allah wills, you will find me patient, and I will not disobey you in aught.'') Al-Khidr said to him, ("Then, if you follow me, ask me not about anything till I myself mention it to you.'') So they set out walking along the shore, until a boat passed by and they asked the crew to let them go on board. The crew recognized Al-Khidr and allowed them to go on board free of charge. When they went on board, suddenly Musa saw that Al-Khidr had pulled out one of the planks of the ship with an adz. Musa said to him, "These people gave us a free ride, yet you have broken their boat so that its people will drown! Verily, you have done a terrible thing! ("Al-Khidr said, "Did I not tell you, that you would not be able to have patience with me'') (Musa said, "Call me not to account for what I forgot and be not hard upon me for my affair (with you). '')) The Messenger of Allah said,

(In the first instance, Musa asked Al-Khidr because he had forgotten his promise. Then a bird came and sat on the edge of the boat, dipping its beak once or twice in the sea. Al-Khidr said to Musa, "My knowledge and your knowledge, in comparison to Allah's knowledge, is like what this bird has taken out of the sea.'' Then they both disembarked from the boat, and while they were walking on the shore, Al-Khidr saw a boy playing with other boys. Al-Khidr took hold of the boy's head and pulled it off with his hands, killing him. Musa said to him, ("Have you killed an innocent person who had killed none! Verily, you have committed a thing Nukr!'' He said, "Did I not tell you that you would not be able to have patience with me'')

﴿The narrator﴾ said, "The second blame was stronger than the first one''. (Musa said, "If I ask you anything after this, keep me not in your company; you have received an excuse from me.'' Then they both proceeded until they came to the people of a town. They asked them for food but they refused to entertain them. (Then) they found there a wall on the point of falling down.) (Al-Khidr) set it up straight with his own hands. Musa said, "We came to these people, but they neither fed us nor received us as guests. (If you had wished, surely, you could have taken wages for it!'' (Al-Khidr) said: "This is the parting between you and I. I will tell you the interpretation of (those) things over which you were unable to be patient.'') The Messenger of Allah said:

(We wish that Musa was patient so that Allah would have told us more about both of them.) Sa`id bin Jubayr said: "Ibn `Abbas used to recite ﴿Ayah no. 79 (There was a king before them who seized every good-conditioned ship by force) and ﴿Ayah no 80 (As for the boy, he was a disbeliever and his parents were believers.) Then (in another narration) Al-Bukhari recorded a similar account which says

(...then Musa set out and with him was his boy-servant Yusha` bin Nun, and they had the fish with them. When they reached the rock, they camped there, and Musa lay down his head and slept. At the base of the rock there was a spring called Al-Hayat; its water never touched a thing but it brought it to life. Some of its water touched the fish, so it began to move and jumped out of the vessel and into the sea. When he woke up, Musa said to his boy-servant: (Bring us our morning meal.)) Then he quoted the rest of the Hadith. Then a bird came and perched on the edge of the ship, and dipped its beak in the sea, and Al-Khidr said to Musa, "My knowledge and your knowledge and the knowledge of all of creation, in comparison to the knowledge of Allah, is like what this bird has taken from the sea.'' Then he mentioned the rest of the report.

(66. Musa said to him: "May I follow you so that you teach me something of that knowledge which you have been taught (by Allah)'') (67. He said: "Verily, you will not be able to have patience with me!'') (68. "And how can you have patience about a thing which you know not'') (69. Musa said: "If Allah wills, you will find me patient, and I will not disobey you in aught.'') (70. He said: "Then, if you follow me, ask me not about anything till I myself mention of it to you.'')

[orange-plum]

I know I’ve made a lot of personal posts over the past few months about personal growth, dealing with medical problems, and being a more positive person and trying to find purpose in your life. And I def don’t wanna turn into a blog that just talks about that sort of thing, but from what I went through this past year, with relationships and my medical stress and learning about forgiveness and boundaries, I realize how hard it is for people to function through that stuff when they feel alone or have low self-worth. And I find it SUPER important to hit these personal milestones.

So I’ve been binge watching Dr Phil for months, day in and day out. I started using it as background noise for when I draw (because I’m tired of listening to the same playlist over and over). But after watching him so much, I’ve come to respect him a great deal. He hands out prolific life advice, and a lot of his quotes or ideas really helped me wake up and put my foot down. It made me see some things in life I hadn’t thought about.

And so I collected 30 of these quotes, and I want to share a few of them with you guys, in case you’re going through something or need that extra encouragement. Because they’ve helped me more than I could’ve ever imagined.

“One of the ten laws of life: teach people how to treat you.”  Put up your boundaries in a relationship from the get go. If they see you bending on them, they will continue to treat you poorly because you allow it.

“10-7-5. Why do you do the things you do and feel the way you feel. It’s defined by 10-7-5. Identify the 10 defining moments in your life, 7 critical choices you’ve made that affected who you became, and the 5 pivotal people in your life.” Once you sit down and think about these things, you have a better understanding of yourself.

“Big boys don’t cry, but men do.”

“People who are successful have a defined image in life. They know who they are.” This one was hard for me, because knowing who you are is tough. Figure it out along the way, but you can’t succeed in life if you don’t have an answer to this question. It’ll come to you.

“Don’t quit while the emotions are raw. Don’t quit while it’s really hurting inside. Work through it. Give your feelings a voice. You’re talking about a relationship that’s meant a lot to you. It’s worth the work. And if you get through that work you just can’t get past it, OK. But know that you’ve done the work.” This one is the most important to me. To be satisfied with an ending relationship, do yourself and them a favor and put the work in at first. Try and see if it’s worth fixing, because if they mean enough to you, you owe it to them to make the effort.

“When you choose the behavior or thought, you choose the consequences.”

"One of the big things about immaturity is that those people tend to lack empathy. So there’s no consideration on you.” 

“My dad used to tell me, ‘Boy, don’t ever miss a good chance to shut up.’“ If you think you’re going to put your foot in your mouth, stay silent.

“Eighty percent of choices are based on fear. Most people don’t choose what they want; they choose what they think is safe.”

“Don’t wait till you’re in a crisis to come up with a crisis plan.” This one is really important to me because people don’t consciously think about this. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

“At the end of the day, whether or not those people are comfortable with how you’re living your life doesn’t matter. What matters is whether you’re comfortable with it.” We base our lives too much on public opinion or the opinions of friends/family. You’re the only you you have. You’re the one who’s always gonna be there with you at the end of the day. You need to make sure that’s a priority. People come and go, but you need to just live your life how you are comfortable (as long as it’s not hurting anyone).

“Sometimes you just got to give yourself what you wish someone else would give to you.”

“Awareness without action is worthless.” I let this dictate a lot of my relationships growing up. That’s why I’m so gung-ho about setting boundaries now. You can be aware there’s problems in a relationship, but if you don’t do anything about it then what’s the point of acknowledging that?

“Everyone faces the challenge of finding meaning to their suffering.” It’s there. If you can’t see it, it will reveal itself down the line. I was torn apart over my medical conditions with my tumor, but only now, over a year later, am I seeing why I had to go through that. I needed that to trigger some personal awareness in myself. To cut out negativity and love myself enough to forgive and set boundaries with people. I never would have reached that epiphany had I not gone through that, nor would I be as close with my family and my friends right now. The tumor was a fuckin’ eye opening blessing and I thank God every day that it happened now.

“It’s better to be healthy alone than sick with someone else.”

“Are you doing what you’re doing today because you want to do it, or because it’s what you were doing yesterday?”

“If you want more, you have to require more from yourself.” The thing I gather the most from Dr Phil’s shows is that you need to try and establish your own self worth to be happy. Because without it, I’m not sure it’s obtainable, let alone sustainable. Fuckin’ want more for yourself. Give it to yourself. Try.

“The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior.” People can change, but it takes a hell of a wake up call most of the time.

“Winners simply formed the habit of doing things that losers don’t like to do.” Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries. It always comes back to boundaries and looking out for yourself. If it’s a hard decision, it’s meant to be hard. If I’ve learned anything from my experiences, doing the right thing in making changes in your life is super tough, but you can’t avoid doing it forever. Provide the actions with the best outcomes for your success and happiness. Learn some coping tools if you have to along the way to make it easier.

“A lot of people do have tragic childhoods, but you know what? Get over it.” He didn’t say this in an insensitive way, his context was that you can’t justify current behavior based on your childhood experiences. If you need the help to learn how to surpass bad memories, that’s fine. You should seek that out. But from experience, no one wants to attend your pity party, as harsh as that sounds, if you’re excusing away your behavior with it. That is only hurting your relationships with people, and yourself.

“Instead of being ashamed of what you’ve been through, be proud of what you’ve overcome!”

“People who have nothing to hide, hide nothing. You should be an open book, be transparent.”

“Change can come in either of two important ways: start behaving positively or stop behaving negatively.” This hit me the hardest. It’s super important to your mindset for what the quality of life you’re going to have. If you recognize you’re allowing negativity to fester, or you’re being too pessimistic all the time, make the decision to make that change. Choose to stop it and practice a better mindset. After a while, you do start to believe it. Fake it till you make it.

“When you allow a person’s words to upset you, you’re giving away your power.”

“You do not HAVE to be angry just because you have the right to be angry.”

“At this very moment, you may be saying to yourself that you have any number of admirable qualities. You are a loyal friend, a caring person, someone who is smart, dependable, fun to be around. That's wonderful, and I'm happy for you, but let me ask you this: are you being any of those things to yourself?”

“My dad used to say, 'You wouldn't worry so much about what people thought about you if you knew how seldom they did.”

  “ Be your authentic self. Your authentic self is who you are when you have no fear of judgment, or before the world starts pushing you around and telling you who you're supposed to be. Your fictional self is who you are when you have a social mask on to please everyone else. Give yourself permission to be your authentic self.”

“It's so much easier to tell people what they want to hear instead of what they need to hear.” I think this goes hand in hand with the hard choices quote.

“If you need a miracle, be a miracle.”

I sometimes need to look at this list to remind myself of these profound things.  Sometimes I’ll sit there and really think about some of this and apply it to my life. I wanted to share some of the quotes that I enjoyed from him that have really helped me these past couple of months.

If any of you needed to hear any of this or take comfort in it, then I’m glad to share it with you guys UuU.

[smokeybrand]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Well, Sh*t, Diana

I’m not a fan of the DCEU. I think they make capeflicks the wrong way. Sure, i absolutely understand there is artistic merit in he creation process and i do love a different interpretation of a character but there are certain elements that absolutely have to hit in order to make your version of the character, true to the core character. Spider-Man is a geek, Iron Man is an arrogant asshole with a heart of gold, and cap is a roided out boy scout. Unless the character has some nebulous history, like Donna Troy or Captain Marvel, the blue print for creating the characters is right there. Someone needs to be in charge to make sure you follow the plan. someone needs to be the one to reel you in when you stray too far from what’s been established before you go from Batman to Rorschach I know it sounds like i don’t like DC but that’s not true. I love them. Not as much as Marvel but i still dig their stories. Mostly. Hell, The Dark Knight is one of my all-time favorite films. I’m not saying they need to be as good as that but at least give me recognizable version of the characters, especially when there are excellent adaptions like this out there for comparison. Just because you CALL your movie a Superman movie, doesn’t mean it IS a Superman movie, ya dig? With that in mind, here’s hat i thought of Wonder Woman 1984.

The Good

Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman hits it out of the ark. This is the best I've ever seen her act in her short career. Look, i know she’s been doing it for a while now, but it's be honest; Wonder Woman is literally the strongest role she’s had to date. The emotional complexity of Diana Prince is easily the most nuanced character Gadot has ever played to this point and it took a while for her to really nail that as a reality. WW84 really demonstrates how Gadot has finally found a happy medium between her acting ability and the strengths of the character. I was a little sus when she was cast originally but immediately got on board when it turned out that she as the best thing about BvS. Since then, shes continued to grow with the character and seeing the ultimate version of her interpretation was a joy to watch.

Chris Pine as Steve Trevor was Chris Pine. Look, he’s great at his job. Dude knows his range and he stays in that lane perfectly. This makes his characters kind of same-t, you’d be hard-pressed to tell me the difference between Trevor and his version of Kirk, but I'm not mad either way. It’s always a delight seeing he show up to steal a few scenes then disappearing before overstaying his welcome.

I legitimately love the chemistry between Gadot and Pine. They are great together onscreen and it really lends a bit of authenticity to their relationship in the film. The way Trevor returns is wonky as f*ck and I'll get into that in a minute, but it was good to see him up there with Diana, for sure.

Pedro Pascal as this version of Maxwell Lord was pretty okay. I generally enjoy Pascal’s work, specifically on The Mandalorian and GoT, and he executes here to that inspired degree. He does an able job being a different kind of foil to Diana’s different kind of hero and it all works. Even if this version of the character does not.

Kristen Wiig’s Barbara Minerva was delightful. Look, i love Wiig, man. She’s great in everything she’s in. There is a charisma to her that only the very best SNL alumni can claim to have and it makes it really difficult not to root for Wiig in her projects. I mean, i paid money to see her version of Ghostbusters! Legit disappointed with that nonsense but i went because i like Wiig and she was the star. I was not disappointed in her performance as Minerva. No, she was exceptional as that character. I was, however, put off by her version of Cheetah but I'll get to that, too...

This movie is gorgeous. I’m an Eighties baby so seeing that whole aesthetic is always fun. Takes me back to when i was young. Part of the reason i love Stranger Things is because of that nostalgia. WW84 doesn’t execute as thoroughly as that show in their Reagan era retro run, but it’s serviceable. Big hair, big shoulders, big colors; It’s all there and it’s fantastic.

The effects are a little hit or miss but, overall, they’re okay. Certain aspects of this film’s super abilities, that fantastical sh*t which makes this a capeflick, could have been visualized better but i get why they weren’t. Most of my gripes with this type of stuff are nitpicks and you get over them pretty quickly. Most, not all.

Patty Jenkins is getting more and more comfortable behind the camera in films like this. The action in WW84 is much more detailed, much better shot, than in it’s predecessor. Free from Snyder’s grimdark influence, we have a relatively bright, relatively light, take on Wondy akin to the old camp from the Seventies show and i kind of dig it. It’ a choice and i commend Jenkins for making it.

The score is great. I mean, it’s Hans Zimmer, man. When does he ever drop the ball on sh*t like this? His score is actually incredibly important to this flick. There’s not a lot of action in it, thing is almost a character study or morality parable dressed up as a capeflick, so you need that extra impact to get you over the expository hump. Simmer delivers this with a delicate and powerful companion soundtrack. One could make the argument that this score is the best thing about Wonder Woman 84. I’m not, but one could.

The Monkey's Paw effect was executed pretty well in this flick. I was surprised by the level of escalation and how it all kind of made sense. I'd say that the writing was great because of that but it really isn't, just this one aspect.

That Lynda Carter cameo, tho.

The Bad

I hate this plot so much, man. The overall narrative is goddamn convoluted and a little inept. The primary conflict seems incredibly forced and the absolute hurdles this thing had to do in order to shoehorn Trevor back into the story is f*cking disappointing. It’s effectively Heaven Can Wait with Amazons, magic wishes, furry nudity, and Eighties excess. This sounds like a dope ass anime but it’s not. It’s a wonky, uneven, adequate time spent with contrived nonsense.

This is easily some of the weakest dialogue I've ever heard in my life. I cannot stress enough that I absolutely understand this is a capeflick so I'm not expecting Shakespeare but at least give me something better than this.

I hate this version of Maxwell Lord. Look, in the book, this dude was evil Batman. He bested the entire Justice league, every last one of them, with his sheer brilliance and terrifying capability. He achieved absolute victory over DC’s heroes prompting Diana to literally break his neck to rob him of his triumph. It’s wild to see. She actually thinks about it. Wonder Woman pauses, contemplates her options, and them murders Lord in cold blood, in front of Superman, and just walks away from dude’s corpse! It was brutal and understand. Maxwell Lord was a f*cking problem and he was only going to get worse. WW84′s version is not a problem and could have been much, much, better.

Full-blown Cheetah is gross looking. The effects for her wholly CG body are f*cking terrible, man. Obviously, they frame this “fight” at night to hide all of that but it’s still really, really, bad. I understand that there’s a budget that you have to hit but, f*ck, you couldn’t give me Rebirth version of Cheetah with two hundred million dollars? Word? I shouldn’t be surprised about this, all of the DCEU CG villains look like sh*t, but how hard is it to execute Cheetah properly? The Mortal Kombat guys did it for a game but you can’t do it for a movie? Really?

This feels like a throwback capeflick and i have a real issue with that. Of course, i like the old versions of superhero movies. Donner’s Superman and Burton’s Batman will always mean a great deal to me but we are beyond that now. We have a better understanding of how to do this now. It’s a legitimate film genre with prestige pieces and everything. Why the f*ck are we looking back instead of forward with this movie? I imagine the cartoonish nature of this movie was a conscious choice by Jenkins but it definitely feels like a miscalculation on her part.

There are a great many plot holes and loose threads left unexplored. Why didn't Barbara lose her powers when Maxwell lost his? That convoy really didn't see them f*cking kids in the road? How and why did she go full Cheetah for that matter? Why does Steve look like himself to Diana when he doesn't even look like himself to himself? How the f*ck did Barbara just walk into the whole ass White House like that? While on the the subject of Barbara, what the f*ck was the cost of her wish? Was the the Cheetah thing? None of that was very clear. Will Stagg get out of prison for the tax fraud thing in the beginning? I get that I shouldn't b e analyzing this movie to the extent that I am but it's so loose with its own internal logic, I can't help it.

Two and a half hours is a real big ask, man. This flick did not need this run time. You could easily trim thirty to forty minutes off this thing and still have a really compelling watch. As it is, there's too much time for the pacing to get dumb and, boy, does it get dumb.

The Verdict

Wonder Woman 1984 isn’t a Wondy flick. It’s a generic superhero vehicle that happens to have Diana slotted in the pole position. You could have put any character and their main love interest in these roles and it would have worked out fine with little to no tweaking. This sequel feels uninspired in a lot of ways. It’s completely devoid of the emotional weight that first run carried. I can’t say it’s terrible, though, because i know what else is in the catalog to this point. WW84 is still one of the best in the DCEU and that says way more about the franchise than it does this flick. It’s not all bad, however. I did enjoy Gadot as Wondy. She’s come a long way and you can see just how comfortable she is as Diana. Chris Pine is going to Chris Pine. His Steve Trevor is, once again, the best thing about this movie. Rather, his and Gadot’s chemistry is the best thing about this movie. The newcomers are pretty okay as well.

I always enjoy Pedro Pascal and this version of Maxwell Lord ain’t terrible but it is way too different from the core character for me to really get on board Just write a different character, you know? Nothing on the page about this version of Lord, come anywhere near the violent mastermind from the books and i think that’s a very real missed opportunity. I was a little sus of the Kristen Wiig casting for Barbara Minerva but she pulled it off. I really enjoyed her as Cheetah literally until she actually be Cheetah. i was curious why the marketing refused to show her in full-blown Cheetara mode and, when i saw it, i understood. They should have let those effects cook a little longer. That’s the theme of this entire flick, though, wen i think about it; Sh*t should have cooked a little longer.

WW84 is a decent watch, if a little long in the tooth. It;s mad campy, saccharine sweet at points, and is definitely a capeflick envisioned through the eyes of a woman. It’s not bad, mind you, it’s just not that good, either. Everything seems almost but not quite. The villains are almost compelling but not quite. Diana’s entire arc in this seems almost cathartic but not quite. The necessity of Steve Trevor seems justified but not quite. This thing just misses the mark and yet, somehow, it’s still one of the best in the DCEU catalog. hat sh*t just boggles my mind, man. If you know your Amazonian lore like i do, this film can be frustrating at time. If you’re a fan of the DCEU, you’ll probably enjoy this flick. If you’re a fan of this version of the Wondy myths, then 84 is definitely for you. There is enough other stuff here to entertain and distract so it’s an okay time overall. The first one is still the best out of the lot, though.

[dfroza]

will you open your heart to the new covenant of grace

to allow your body to become the Temple of the Spirit of our Creator?

this is what we find written (and conserved) in Paul’s Letters of the New Testament, with Today’s reading being from 2nd Corinthians

[Chapter 7]

Because we have these promises, dearly loved ones, out of respect for God we should scour the filth from our flesh and spirit and move toward perfect beauty and holiness.

Take us into your hearts; love us as we love you. You have nothing to fear. We have hurt no one, ruined no one, swindled no one. I am not writing these things to condemn you, as I said before. Our hearts embrace you, so we stand beside you whether facing life or death. I am completely confident and incredibly proud of you. Even in all this turbulence I am at peace—I am overflowing with joy.

When we came into Macedonia, we were completely worn out—under attack from every angle—nagging opposition on the outside, our own nagging fears from the inside. But God, who comforts the downcast, brought us comfort when Titus arrived from Corinth. We were relieved, not just to see him, but because he told us how he was encouraged to learn about your longing, your grieving, and your continued enthusiasm for me. So these were all more reasons for me to rejoice!

I knew you would be upset with my last letter, but I do not regret sending it. If there were times I did have second thoughts, it was because I could see that the letter did hurt you, even if only for a while. Now I am glad—not because it caused you grief but because you were moved to make a permanent change that can happen only with the realization that your actions have gone against God—I’m glad to know you suffered no long-term loss because of what we did. Now this type of deep sorrow, godly sorrow, is not so much about regret; but it is about producing a change of mind and behavior that ultimately leads to salvation. But the other type of sorrow, worldly sorrow, often is fleeting and only brings death. Look at what is happening among you! Notice how authentic and diligent you have become because this godly sorrow has been at work in your community. But there’s more: your desire to clear your name, your righteous anger, your respect, your longing, your zeal, and your concern for justice. All these demonstrate how you have been made clean. So when I wrote my last difficult letter, it was not to comfort the victim or confront the perpetrator—it was to stir up your sincere devotion for us under God’s watchful eye. In the midst of all that has happened, though it has been difficult, we are comforted and encouraged. When we saw the relief and joy on Titus’s face, we celebrated even more because his spirit had been totally refreshed by you. Now if I have bragged in the past about you to Titus, I have nothing to be ashamed of. Just as we’ve spoken the whole truth to you, I’m glad to know that our boasts to Titus about you have proven true as well. His love for you overflows even more as he recalls your obedience and how you respectfully and somewhat nervously, with fear and trembling, took him in. I have great joy now because I have great confidence in you.

The Letter of 2nd Corinthians, Chapter 7 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 5th chapter of First Kings where Solomon begins the work of building the Temple in Jerusalem

[International Fame]

Hiram king of Tyre sent ambassadors to Solomon when he heard that he had been crowned king in David’s place. Hiram had loved David his whole life. Solomon responded, saying, “You know that David my father was not able to build a temple in honor of God because of the wars he had to fight on all sides, until God finally put them down. But now God has provided peace all around—no one against us, nothing at odds with us.

“Now here is what I want to do: Build a temple in honor of God, my God, following the promise that God gave to David my father, namely, ‘Your son whom I will provide to succeed you as king, he will build a house in my honor.’ And here is how you can help: Give orders for cedars to be cut from the Lebanon forest; my loggers will work alongside yours and I’ll pay your men whatever wage you set. We both know that there is no one like you Sidonians for cutting timber.”

When Hiram got Solomon’s message, he was delighted, exclaiming, “Blessed be God for giving David such a wise son to rule this flourishing people!”

Then he sent this message to Solomon: “I received your request for the cedars and cypresses. It’s as good as done—your wish is my command. My lumberjacks will haul the timbers from the Lebanon forest to the sea, assemble them into log rafts, float them to the place you set, then have them disassembled for you to haul away. All I want from you is that you feed my crew.”

In this way Hiram supplied all the cedar and cypress timber that Solomon wanted. In his turn, Solomon gave Hiram 125,000 bushels of wheat and 115,000 gallons of virgin olive oil. He did this every year. And God, for his part, gave Solomon wisdom, just as he had promised. The healthy peace between Hiram and Solomon was formalized by a treaty.

[The Temple Work Begins]

King Solomon raised a workforce of thirty thousand men from all over Israel. He sent them in shifts of ten thousand each month to the Lebanon forest; they would work a month in Lebanon and then be at home two months. Adoniram was in charge of the work crew. Solomon also had seventy thousand unskilled workers and another eighty thousand stonecutters up in the hills—plus thirty-three hundred foremen managing the project and supervising the work crews. Following the king’s orders, they quarried huge blocks of the best stone—dressed stone for the foundation of The Temple. Solomon and Hiram’s construction workers, assisted by the men of Gebal, cut and prepared the timber and stone for building The Temple.

The Book of 1st Kings, Chapter 5 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, november 18 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A post by John Parsons about the significance of repentance:

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9). Not just this or that particular sin, mind you, but the whole constellation of attitudes, assumptions, and wayward thinking that brought us into exile in the first place. The word confession (ὁμολογία) means bringing yourself naked before the Divine Light to agree with the truth about who you are. Indeed, the verb homologeo (ὁμολογέω) means “saying the same thing” - from ὁμός (same) and λόγος (word). In biblical Hebrew teshuvah (תְשׁוּבָה) means turning back to God by turning away from what makes you lost in unreality and painful exile. God's love for us is the question, and our teshuvah – our turning of the heart toward Him – is the answer. Teshuvah is one of the great gifts God gives each of us – the ability to turn back to Him and seek healing for our brokenness. [Hebrew for Christians]

11.17.20 • Facebook

and another post by John about becoming Real:

Some of us seem far more concerned with how others see than how God sees us... We strive to manage a public image crafted for others but lose the substance of what is real. Trying to control how we are seen by others is exhausting, however, since it implies that we must find our value in their (conditional) approval rather than from a deeper source. The emotional need for approval is a form of cruel bondage: We take ourselves too seriously, we deny who we really are, and we believe we are never good enough. Over time we become anxious and easily offended people... “Am I now trying to gain the approval of people, or of God?” (Gal. 1:10).

For every reaction there is a counter reaction. As the Kotzker Rebbe wisely said, "If I am I because I am I, and you are you because you are you, then I am I and you are you; but if I am I because you are you and you are you because I am I, then I am not I and you are not you." The Kotzer's saying reminds me of a story I once heard. A man went to a rabbi and said, "I know I am a fool, rabbi, but I don't know what to do about it. Can you help me? The rabbi replied in a complimentary way, "Ah my son, if you know you're a fool, then surely you are no fool!" "Then why does everybody say I am a fool?" complained the man. The rabbi regarded him thoughtfully for a moment and then said, "If you don't understand that you are a fool, but only listen to what other people say, then you are surely a fool!"

As Hillel had said, "If I am not for myself then who will be for me? But if I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?" (Avot 1:14). Hillel points out here that the language of "I am" (אָנִי) and "me" (לִי) reveals that we have a relationship with ourselves that must be sanctified and ordered before God. As Soren Kierkegaard once cryptically wrote: “The self is a relation which relates itself to its own self, or it is that in the relation that the relation relates itself to its own self; the self is not the relation but that the relation relates itself to its own self” (Kierkegaard: The Sickness unto Death). An authentic self must relate itself to God as the Ground of existence, otherwise irremediable despair will result, that is, a lethal sickness of soul... The remedy for anxious confusion of heart is to turn to God and to find your value in God’s love and blessing. As we come to believe that we are accepted and loved despite our many imperfections, inadequacies, and character defects, we find courage to accept ourselves, to “let go” and relax. As Yeshua said, “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it" (Luke 18:17).

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with but REALLY loves you, then you become Real. It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time.... Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand." (Margary Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit). [Hebrew for Christians]

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Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

November 18, 2020

Watch in Prayer

“Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving; Withal praying also for us, that God would open unto us a door of utterance, to speak the mystery of Christ, for which I am also in bonds.” (Colossians 4:2-3)

This strong command is composed of two very similar Greek terms—gregoreuo, meaning “vigilant” or “alert,” and agrupneo, meaning “be awake.” A similar emphasis is at the end of the classic passage identifying the armor of God: “Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints” (Ephesians 6:18).

Our watching must also be with a conscious attitude of thanksgiving during “every remembrance” of each other (Philippians 1:3), particularly since the intercessory request should be focused on asking our Lord Jesus to provide an open door (Revelation 3:8). The Lord is indeed the One who opens the door, but the process for obtaining His action is recorded in Luke 11:9-11. We must ask for the gift of the open door, seek to find the door that He is opening, and then knock once we are at the door that He is ready to open for us.

However, as Paul notes, when the Lord opens a “door of utterance,” the spoken Word of God conveys the power of God—and that message and its power will bring the attention of the Enemy. “For a great door and effectual is opened unto me, and there are many adversaries” (1 Corinthians 16:9).

Any fear that might lurk in our minds should be overridden by the necessity to be spokespeople for this wonderful “mystery of Christ.” There is no “salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). HMM III