#to make that decision properly and kept struggling; my to-be girlfriend later on really helped me figure out (continued)

[brokenrobot2004]

It makes me a little sad that I'm going to be convicted forever by the hate blog my ex best friend made about me years ago now; to her, the drama ended with that blog, but to me, it's going to stay forever as long as it's around, because it's one of the first things anyone is going to see when they look me up; I'd be more accepting of it if it wasn't also loosely comprised of buzzwords (Biphobic and ablest are specifically strange to me because I'm bi and diagnosed with autism, and even back when I was aroace I never said anything about bisexuals? I never said anything about any kind of disability either, I was always very respectful about both of those things and have even considered myself bi before now too, when I was 11) and mildly sexualized assumptions that an adult made of posts I made when I was either 10 or 11 years old in the furby community, just trying to fit in with what other people were saying but not entirely having a grip on what they meant and sounding off, when I never meant to sound the way I did at all; like how "Fetishizing trans women" was a post where I angrily mocked my mom calling me cute or girly things because I was a trans guy and found it upsetting, "disabled furby fetish" was me trying to make a positivity post about helping disabled furbies to be inclusive like everyone else was being, one of the things happened to be me saying I'd help a furby who couldn't walk sit on the toilet because I heard around that people taking care of the elderly would do that, so I included it in my post to seem knowledgeable on real ways of helping, and that was it; I really really wish that even while I was an unhinged young teenager, people would have just gently asked before writing those ever-lasting posts, "Hey, did you mean bla-bla-bla when you said this, or did you mean something else?" and I would've answered honestly, I'm sure; I was a bit of a monstrosity the further back you go into history of how I acted on the internet but I was really, not all that terrible to talk to when there was no perceived threat from the person and asking me a rational question would've been easy, I never ever mean to hurt anybody, but now, that's all people are going to think of me; even in real life, because who wouldn't look up my social media in this digital era? 🙁

And it was mostly, if not entirely, consisting of behaviors and views I've grown out of since the 5+ years ago it happened; I have even been met with backlash in 2022 or 2023, for saying I'm sorry to someone I was mean to back then 😯 (I now think that was unnecessary from me, I was very tired that day) what do the people who've cancelled me want from me? I don't think they want me to apologize, or care that I've gotten so much better since then; I think maybe they just want to revel in that I am a complete recluse now socially, a coward; I cannot even say "Cool fursuit!" or "I like your artstyle!" without feeling like somehow, someone will come forward and be able to twist what I've said into something terrible and use it against me if they don't like me, because that's just how people can be online now; it's terrifying. My ex best friend has shunned me behind my back for being so scared, I remember being shown longer ago; but knowing the things that upset her, she would be absolutely broken if someone did to her, what she did to me online; because that shit can ruin careers, it could ruin my chance of ever making a friend again, even IRL because anyone can look me up online; imagine doing that to somebody who was at the time, not even old enough to drink.

I've been called vile, irredeemable, and anonymously told to kill myself once even; I was a 16 year old; a rather air-headed one too yet. Who would talk that way to a 16 year old who made it clear he was trying to improve and never meant to hurt anyone? Who knew he was in the wrong and was trying his hardest to fix it? For young readers rolling their eyes, how absurd that is will click when you're older and realize how inexperienced most people are at that age.

And that isn't keeping in mind how developmentally delayed I always have been too, which I state as a fact and not as an excuse; I don't let it ever stop me from improving myself either, but I feel like it's probably important that I mention that about myself here; I've always been considerably far behind people my age socially and often, intellectually; it was very visible at School especially where alot of the work I did was far behind everyone else's, and was alot slower than them too, and when I was younger I'd hardly get any work done at all even and was very difficult to deal with as a whole; Autism can be a very unflattering disability, it's not generally pure or wholesome, and it has influenced my bad or otherwise embarrassing behavior alot in the past; which I will still take responsibility for; because my illness isn't some seperate entity from me I'd use as an excuse, I just want it to be understood and recognized that I can't function as well as most other people in the head, I never could, and I genuinely just want that to be understood coming from someone who is seriously, detrimentally autistic to a point I had gotten diagnosed with it at a young age; my past outbursts and socially-inept behaviors helped by it gave the internet ridiculous shitshows to point at, and I'll never be able to take that away; what I can do is hope that I'll be atleast somewhat understood in the end, and left alone for how I was such a long time ago now

I've made a good effort to no longer be that way or act immature and freak out like I did long ago, and I can't stop persuing a social presence at such a young age, over the idea that strangers might not understand that about me.

I have no respect for people who think call-out and purity culture are okay and useful towards youth; this stuff was meant for use against megacorperations and rich celebrities that are getting boycotted for being generally harmful and/or gross on a huge scale that affects many innocent people, not stupid teenagers like I was, or even young adults. People learn, grow, and change; I spend and have spent every second of my life finding ways to grow and improve, and taking information in from people I look up to and admire to do so; and came far enough that I am 100% no longer the petty, angry, and immature person I was at the time, and that makes me very proud. I am no longer going to cower in my little corner, shivering at the thought of complimenting someone's 3D model or uploading a piece of music on YouTube; because people who told a scared and confused autistic kid to end his life and tried to take future careers, friendships, or even love away from him with things he's said and done years and years ago, do not deserve my compliance anymore

[nsheetee]

Can I request idol!Jisung and idol!Reader being rumored to be in a relationship and then getting caught kissing/making out in a private area

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 || Final

details: female reader, some kissing at the end

it’s the first you’re coming over to the dream dorm

jisung told you to dress comfortably since the most you’ll probably be doing is just hanging out

yet, you still felt the need to apply some cherry lip gloss and clip some pins in your hair

you stopped by a convenience store, buying some snacks so that you don’t go to the dorm empty-handed

you feel like you’re about to meet your boyfriend’s parents, not his friends and colleagues 

but it could almost be counted as the same thing

you know how protective dream is over jisung, your own group has the same attitude towards you

your phone buzzes in your pocket and you attempt to dig it out without dropping the bags in your hands

“when will you be here?”

“hurry up!”

“everyone’s waiting to meet you ;-;”

you snort at jisung’s texts, trying to type back a response with only one hand, but he sends another text before you can send a reply

“I’m nervous.”

you stare at his message, small butterflies erupting in your stomach at the two words on your screen

although you and jisung have only been dating for a few months, he brought up how he wanted you to meet the dreamies now rather than later

you’ll never forget his justification for the decision:

“these guys are important in my life, and so are you. I want the two important parts of my life to meet.”

just the memory of your shy and awkward boyfriend saying those words to you makes you giddy, and you type back a text with a smile on your face

“me too. I think that just means this is something we care about.” 

you put your phone back in your pocket as you walk the rest of the way to the dorm

you climb some flights of stairs once you’re in the building, and then find the door with the number that jisung told you

after knocking on the door, you hear some ruckus on the other side

some shouting and thudding, and then a shrill “park jisung! your girlfriend’s here!” before the door opens to reveal the one and only jisung

“hi! I brought some snacks.” you hold up the bags by your head as you make eye contact with jisung, chenle, and renjun

“I love her already.” chenle muses, making jisung send him a fatal glare

“you didn’t have to.” jisung mumbles to you, taking the bags out of your hands and allowing you to step into the dorm, closing the door behind you

“I couldn’t come here empty-handed, not when you guys are nice enough to let me join your boardgame night.”

“and now I love her, too.” renjun muses

after properly being introduced to chenle and renjun, the four of you walk into the dining room where jaemin and jeno are setting up drinks, a pile of boardgames in the middle of the dining table

“make more room, jisung’s girlfriend brought snacks.” chenle hollers, and jisung recedes into his hoodie, cheeks glowing bright pink as he hands off the snacks to jeno

“hey, she has a name.” jisung still stands up to his best friend despite his small voice and chenle starts teasing him, pulling his hoodie strings tight and attempting to tie them while jisung struggles to get away

“hi, I’m y/n.” you decide to introduce yourself to jeno and jaemin, and they politely greet you.

“are you sure you’re jisung’s girlfriend?” jeno asks, head tilting as he sets out the snacks you bought, “you seem too mature to be dating him.”

you laugh bashfully at the indirect compliment, your brain too scrambled to say anything back

“ah, don’t you know, jeno? opposites attract.” jaemin speaks as if he’s a wise, old man, “and besides, I think it’s good that y/n is more mature than jisung. it balances out.” 

“I like jisung for how silly he is. it makes me feel free and relaxed.” you blurt out, sending jisung a glance over your shoulder to find him still play-fighting with chenle

“oooooooh.” jeno, jaemin, and renjun exclaim, now making you recede back into your jacket, realizing what absolute fluff just came out of your mouth about their group member

soon enough, all six of you are sitting around the table, getting ready to play the first game of the night: uno

you really wanted to sit next to jisung, but before he could make it to your side, chenle and jaemin sit down in the seats on your left and right, forcing jisung to sit across from you on the round table

you could tell he isn’t super happy about the seating arraignment, but you lightly kick his foot under the table to get his attention and send him a smile

the first round of uno was more intense and drama-filled than anything you’ve ever seen before

cards flying

people screaming (mostly chenle, and right in your ear too)

dramatic falling down onto the floor when they loose (mostly renjun)

your stomach hurts with their antics, face hot from the amount of exertion it took to play a simple round of uno

you decide that it would be best to try a different game after jeno is forced to put his head down on the table to calm himself after losing to jaemin, the champ of the game

you played several more (less energy-filled) games, conversation flying across the table easily, as if you all have been friends for years rather than just a few hours

you freely told the dreamies about yourself, mostly things you could find on the internet, but you were happy to share these facts face to face

they apologized for haechan’s absence, as he’s with nct 127

and then promptly tried to pry you for information on your group’s next comeback

it was all fun and games, you truly loved spending time with jisung and his group members, and whatever nervousness you felt on your way here dissipated throughout the night

soon, you’re getting texts from your group members to come back to your own dorm, saying that it’s too late and you have a full schedule tomorrow

you say your goodbyes to the dreamies, allowing jisung to walk you down the stairs and out the front door of the building

“you don’t have to walk me to the bus station, I can make it there myself.” you say lightly, but he shakes his head

“no really. it’s okay, I’m not going to make you walk by yourself at night.” 

jisung looks so good in the night sky, his cheeks permanently lifted up and his skin shining with youth

you turn away from him before you get caught staring, walking next to him with your hands in your coat pockets

you both keep your heads on a swivel for any fans with cameras or paparazzi that may recognize you and want to take pictures

your relationship hasn’t been revealed, but there have been rumors circling around

it’s all fan speculation, the way you and jisung interact at award shows and on a few radio shows you’ve been on together

except it’s not speculation at all, your fans are definitely correct about you two dating, but the time to reveal your relationship has not come yet

“so… did you like hanging out with the members?” he asks

“yeah! I was nervous, but they’re so fun that I forgot about my nerves after we started playing.” you laugh and glance at jisung

he has a stern look on his face, and it makes your smile drop

“what’s wrong?”

“n-nothing. it’s nothing.” jisung is quick to turn away and deny the look on his face, but you can tell something doesn’t sit right with him.

“no. tell me what’s wrong?” you gasp, “was it me? did I do something bad?”

“no! no, not at all. I just…” he mumbles the end of his sentence and you lean in to hear better

“what was that?” he sighs at your question

“I just wanted to…”

“to do what?” you frown at how he keeps avoiding the situation, and jisung finally sighs loudly and blurts out his full sentence

“I just wanted to sit next to you! jaemin kept putting his arm around your chair and you kept talking to him, and I wanted to do all that stuff.”

you both stop walking, your eyes wide as jisung voices his feelings with his whole chest

you bit your lip, not sure how to contain all of the emotions brewing in you at his confession

jisung is never one to outright say how he’s feeling, but now that he has, it makes you too weak to handle his heartfelt thoughts

“you’re my girlfriend, after all.” he finishes, looking down at your shoes and shuffling his feet

there’s something in you that has no regard for where you are, how this might look to others walking on the street, or what the possible consequences of your next actions might be

you just want to kiss jisung

stepping forward and grabbing the ends of his jacket, you force him to look at you, silently asking with your eyes if this is okay

as a responce, jisung wraps his arms around your middle and brings you closer

you step up onto his feet and reach up, your lips meeting in a sweet kiss

he helps you balance on his feet, keeping you tight against him as he looses himself in the kiss

jisung loves how your cherry lip gloss tastes on his lips and how your cold hands feel as they slide up his chest and caress his cheek and neck

he rubs one of his large hands up and down your back, surprising himself and you when you shudder against him at the action

he just wants more

more of your kisses

more of you

but he remembers where you two are, and pulls away

your lip gloss has transferred over to his lips, and you giggle as your thumbs reach up to wipe away the stains

this side of jisung is so precious, you attempt to take in every single ounce of it before he turns back into the jisung you know so well

your affectionate touches are cut off by talking, and you and jisung turn to glance down the pathway, near where the illuminated bus stop is

several men hover near each other with big cameras, lenses pointed directly at you two

you both freeze, realizing what those cameras must’ve just caught

“uh oh”

you step away from jisung, but before you can get too far, he grabs your hand and you both run the opposite way from the bus stop, back to the dorm

the only thoughts filling your mind are how the next few weeks, maybe even months will be spent dealing with the events that happened tonight

but you can’t help the smile that plays on your face when you can finally let everyone know that park jisung is your boyfriend

[adarlingwrites]

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

TWs/CWs: Mildly dubious consent, hatefucking, gunplay, Niragi being a bastard. Dead dove, do not eat.

Author’s Notes: I was debating on whether or not I should write the sm*t in detail. I'm normally opposed to writing scenes even with the mildest hints of noncon or dubcon in detail, but Yamane's experience with Niragi will serve as a point of comparison later, so I kept it. Hopefully it’s the right decision.

IV

they say I don't get scared so easily / feel free to show me the roaches / and spiders that creep in your mattress

The pill bottle rattles as Yamane pours one in her palm.

It’s been five days since her arrival. Since then, she met other members of the militant faction, and while some of them aren’t as bloodthirsty as Niragi, Yamane still hasn't come to terms with the reality that she’s considered one of them now.

To Yamane’s surprise and secret relief, Saiko has calmed down, and introduced her to the other female militants. It seems that there are only three of them; four, if you count Yamane in.

One girl was called Hanako, who was a little shy, and she usually wears a gray bikini pair that doesn’t quite expose all of her skin. She was the one who took her to the storage room to get changed after getting treated by Sunohara.

“These bikinis suck,” Yamane complains to herself, sorting through the assortment of garments. “None of them fits my style,” Yamane picks up several bikini tops, and a long black wraparound.

Taking one of her daggers out, Yamane trims the straps off of the tops. The Beach confiscated her bag, so she had no access to her usual tools, but they let her keep the sewing kit she keeps in her skirt pocket. Hanako watches as Yamane sewed in the storage room, deft fingers altering the garment despite one of her arms being immobilized.

“What did you do before you came here?” Hanako asks, watching the needle as Yamane sews, obviously bored and using the seemingly mundane task to entertain herself.

“Made clothes,” Yamane replies, eyes flicking to the other girl as she went on with her task. She holds out the newly finished top: a black bikini top with a pentagram design on the chest.

“Cool,” the other girl comments, sitting a little closer to Yamane, who moves on to the long black skirt, tearing through the sides. She sheds her own skirt, cuts out the rings that decorated it, and uses it to secure the sides. She then trims some excess length from the wraparound.

“Hey, um, could you help me get dressed?” Yamane asks, and Hanako obliges.

When they’re done, Yamane looks at herself in the mirror. The twin buns on her head had gotten messy; she can’t really style them properly due to her injury. She wore her usual cropped hoodie on top of her new Beach garments, and Hanako helped her get her shoulder brace back on. She still couldn’t believe Sunohara had one lying around in her clinic. The Beach really does have a lot of resources to spare.

Yamane then slips on some platform beach sandals, and the two militants emerge from the storage room. Another of them is waiting outside.

“What was taking so long?!” this one asks, crossing her arms. She wore a hoodie with red and black stripes on top of her swimwear, her hair dyed brown and pulled back into a ponytail. “Whatever, Niragi’s looking for you. Come with me.”

“What does he want with me?” Yamane asks, but the girl doesn’t reply. Yamane follows her anyway. The men who brought her here had been lingering in her thoughts for quite some time, and she wanted to ask a few questions.

As they pass through a few rooms, Niragi comes into view with Saiko and they pull her into a room.

“You can go now, Akari,” he tells the woman with the striped hoodie.

They didn’t bother closing the door.

“We can finally pick up where we left off, mousy,” Niragi taunts, pushing Yamane down the bed and toying with the hem of her bikini top. He licks the dip between the two mounds on her chest, and Yamane takes a sharp inhale.

She looks at the man before her, and considers the conflicted feelings he draws out of her. He's loud, he's a bastard, and he takes what he wants without asking. He probably touched other girls without their consent too.

Yamane hated him.

On a normal day, Yamane would be disgusted with someone like him, and herself for enjoying this, but Niragi stirred something dark and primal within her, and the past few days had taken a toll on her judgment, so Yamane kissed him herself, desire and revulsion blending at the pit of her stomach.

Niragi’s eyes widen, but he smirks against Yamane’s lips, darting his tongue in her mouth and claiming her. The piercing on his tongue is an interesting feeling, and Yamane didn’t have any complaints. Yamane’s dark lipstick stains Niragi’s lips. In the background, Saiko gives them a knowing laugh.

“My, my, you want this, little mouse?”

Yamane is no longer in proper society; she didn’t have any reasons to pretend that she didn’t want this. It’s been a long time since she got laid anyway, and it certainly isn’t the first time she fucked someone she hated.

The first time was with a sleazy upperclassman in high school. It felt great, watching the chauvinist pig beg and writhe underneath her, but word got around, and his on-and-off girlfriend wasn’t happy.

“You could’ve just asked instead of grabbing me, bastard. It still doesn’t change the fact that I hate you.”

Niragi grins, and grabs her jaw to kiss her again. Yamane made herself pliable, but she swore not to show any sign of enjoyment. That’s one thing that she wouldn’t give Niragi.

Meanwhile, Niragi had moved on to her neck, trying to draw another reaction from her, but she stayed still. He spreads Yamane’s legs apart, running his tongue against her thigh, pauses, and runs it through her belly, up to her breasts. He pulls her bikini top up, and flicks his tongue against her hardening nipples, alternating between the two, the piercing cold against it. All he could get from her was a small shiver.

“So you’ve come to accept human nature. That was faster than expected, Yamane. I had the feeling that we’ll get along the moment I saw you kill that man. Left to our own devices, we humans will kill, pillage, and rape,” Niragi croons in her ear before sucking on that sensitive spot between her neck and ears. Yamane did her best to stifle a moan, and Saiko laughed at her attempt at staying in control.

“The circumstances forced me to kill, and you know it. You know nothing about me, Niragi.”

The militant withdraws from her, sees that there’s no longer any fear in her eyes, and gives her a questioning look. “Maybe the rumors on the tabloids are true, and she’s so used to doing this kind of thing that this doesn’t bother her anymore,” Niragi muses. Then, he leans back in and kisses Yamane’s neck again, his breath kissing the shell of her ear.

“That’s no fun at all.”

He motions Saiko to fetch his rifle, and Niragi points it at the dormouse’s face.

Now, the fear is back. Saiko got behind her and restrained her. Yamane thrashed and trembled as Niragi glided the barrel against her lips.

“Let’s see if there’s any truth to them. Open your mouth.”

Carefully, Yamane does as she’s told, sweat starting to form at her brow. Niragi slides the barrel in.

“Suck. Let’s see how good you are before I try you myself.”

Running her tongue against the barrel, Yamane maintains eye contact, the corners of her eyes wet. The gun is still warm. Enclosing her lips around the tip, Yamane takes a deep inhale, closes her eyes and starts to bob her head. Her lipstick was barely visible on the black metal.

“Here I thought you’ve already learned your lesson,” Niragi hisses, pushing the little dormouse’s skirt aside and shoving a hand in her underwear. His finger circled her clit, spreading her wetness, and Yamane couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled from her throat.

“The circumstances didn’t force you to kill. It just brought the killer out of you. You’ll kill to survive. That's our nature. That’s your nature,” he sneers, squeezing Yamane’s clit with his thumb and index finger, drawing a sharp cry from her. “Besides, didn’t you leave that little girl to hide alone? You probably did that because you know to yourself that she’s going to be a hindrance to your own survival. Did you?”

Yamane sobs at the bitter truth, the tears falling from her eyes.

“I knew it.”

Niragi withdraws his gun from her mouth, stands on the bed, and unzips his pants. He pulls his cock out of its confines, giving it a few strokes. His member was pierced too; a magic cross at the glans, and a column of pearls runs underneath the skin of his shaft.

“Bite me, I’ll blow your head off,” Niragi threatens, and Yamane nodded.

Niragi is right about one thing: Yamane will do anything to survive. That’s what she did all her life, after all. Her brain being constantly on survival mode did horrible things to her psyche.

Gliding the tip against the dormouse’s tongue, Niragi smirks, then uses his cock to slap her cheek. From behind, Saiko giggles, staining Yamane’s neck with her lipstick and her hand slipping through the waistband of Yamane’s skirt to toy with her. With a strong shove, Niragi pushes his cock down Yamane’s throat, and she chokes, struggling to accommodate him.

Soon, she finds a steady rhythm, and she encloses her lips around his shaft, sucking all the way to the tip and ending with a wet pop. The precum leaking from his tip glosses over her lips, and Niragi smiles before taking her mouth again.

“I think the tabloids were right. Isn’t that right, you little slut? You like sucking dick?”

Yamane opens her eyes, giving Niragi a deadly glare. In the corner of her eye, she sees a hooded figure by the doorway.

Last Boss is standing there, mouth pressed to a tight line, but his hood obscures his eyes. The party lights outside shine through the room, and for a brief moment, Yamane sees the intensity of the tattooed man’s gaze.

He is looking at the three of them with an expression that Yamane could only describe as envy.

Niragi sees that Yamane’s eyes are going somewhere else, and he turns to that direction.

“Last Boss! You want to join in? This little mouse is pretty nasty,” Niragi invites him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Executive meeting in ten minutes,” he said, and without another saying another word, he leaves.

“Dammit, and I wanted to savor this moment too. Well, you’ve heard him. Let’s get these off. I don’t have all night,” Niragi comments, pulling at her skirt. He flips her over, and gives her ass a hard smack.

“Ass in the air,” he commands, and Yamane obliges, more than happy to do what she can to end this encounter already. “Saiko, help me make the little mouse feel good.”

The tip of his cock glides through her wet folds, and he violently enters her.

Growling to suppress a cry, Yamane braced herself on Saiko’s lap. She hisses at the angle at which Niragi was penetrating her, his piercings rubbing against sensitive spots that she couldn’t reach with her own fingers. She couldn’t hold back anymore; it felt too good. Moans started to escape the dormouse’s lips as the militant continued to pound her from behind.

“You feel so damn good,” Niragi hisses, leaning over to nibble at her ear. He wraps a hand around her neck and pulls her closer to him, kissing her. The new position gave Saiko an opportunity to rub Yamane’s clit with her fingers again, then she kissed her, then Niragi, and she settled on suckling at the other woman’s breasts.

The bombardment of stimulation almost drove Yamane over the edge. Trying to imagine something else so she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making her cum, Yamane tries to think of other things; Kobayashi and Nakamura’s bodies dissolving in a pool of acid; Sato’s broken neck; Last Boss slicing that delinquent boy’s neck.

Last Boss.

Somehow, thinking of him only made Yamane waver. She imagines him taking her instead, those mad eyes boring through her, piercing her. Instead of fear or disgust, she felt titillation.

Yamane came with a broken cry, white spots dancing behind her eyes.

Saiko pulls her towards her chest as she loses her energy to hold herself up, petting her ruined hair. Behind her, Niragi rubs himself off and finishes on her ass with a grunt, his warm cum shooting to her lower back. He leans forward to lick her good shoulder, then her cheek, and Yamane could feel his weight leave the bed.

“Well, that was fun, mousy. See you later.”

He gets dressed, retrieves his rifle, and leaves the room.

On the bed, Saiko continues petting Yamane’s head.

“Does he really try to take every girl that comes through this place, even if it meant raping them?” Yamane finally asks, face still buried on Saiko’s lap.

“Only the ones he wants to break.”

“Did he fuck you too?”

Saiko pauses. “Yes.”

Rolling over, Yamane looks at the taller woman in the eye. “And this just happens all the time in the Beach?”

Saiko huffs and rolls her eyes, retrieving two sticks of cigarettes and a lighter from her sleeveless olive jacket. “It’s just the way it is here. Everyone is free to do what they want, and that includes crimes. If you don’t want to be a victim of one, you have to be a perpetrator yourself. Hatter tries to keep the order, but he’s falling short. I thought you’d accept it by now.”

Yamane wanted to say, “That’s the most bullshit explanation I’ve ever heard,” but exhausted, defeated, she said, “Well, Niragi can’t break what’s already broken. I’ll continue to pretend not to feel anything, or at least try.”

“Good. That’ll get him to lay off of you. Men like Niragi get off on fear. Show that he doesn’t faze you, he’ll move on to a new target.”

With a bitter laugh, the little mouse opens her mouth, and Saiko places the cigarette between her lips, lighting it.

Yamane didn’t even smoke, but she needed that.

It turns out that Saiko is right. Niragi’s escapades went on for two more nights before he finally dropped her and moved on to a new target. But it still left Yamane sore for days.

Furrowing her brows, Yamane shakes the pill bottle and pours herself another painkiller tablet. She swallows the pills, and downs a glass of water. Stepping out of her room, she descended to the lobby. There’s going to be a game tonight, and she needed to replenish her visa.

The teams are being assigned. Yamane receives her assignment, and gulps as she feels someone’s presence behind her.

“Yamaneko. You’ll come with us,” Last Boss tells her, and Yamane nods.

He shuffles away, towards Aguni and Niragi, and Yamane follows him. Feeling awkward for thinking of him while another man took her, Yamane couldn’t look at him. But of course, he didn’t need to know that.

Sitting next to him in the backseat certainly didn’t help.

Niragi drives like a demon, making her stomach churn, while Aguni sits beside him, eyeing her through the rearview mirror.

“Tonight we’ll see what you’re made of,” the chief says. Niragi grins, while Last Boss gives her a meaningful look. “Let’s see if you’re really the wildcat Last Boss thinks you are.”

“Wow, no pressure at all,” Yamane thinks to herself, exhaling slowly, doing her best to calm her frayed nerves. Still, she felt a twisted sense of pride, looking at Last Boss from the corner of her eyes. The man barely speaks, and he’s a total enigma to Yamane; no one knows his real name, but everyone knows how dangerous he is.

“If he thinks I’m like a wildcat, then he might respect me a little more than Niragi who calls me a mouse.”

He’s staring at her again, and this time, Yamane cranes her neck to stare back.

She opens her mouth to say something, but the car comes to a screeching halt. Yamane lurches forward, while the tall man stays steady in his seat.

“Out the car,” Aguni barks, and everyone steps out. Yamane eyes the venue, and even Niragi seems to stop. It was a high school; Yamane’s alma mater to be exact.

“A high school? Man, this place brings back some bad memories,” Niragi moans, brows furrowing.

“This was my high school. Fuck this place,” Yamane mumbles, putting one hand on her hip.

“No time for nostalgia, we have a game to play,” Aguni scolds them while Last Boss follows him close by. “Are you two coming or not?”

Looking at each other, Niragi and Yamane start following their chief again. The four militants pass through the laser grid, and proceed deeper into the school complex, where the directions are leading them to the field at the back of the school. While passing through the halls, Yamane sees a pile of old desks in an unused room. Among them was her old one, vandalized with words such as “Kill yourself” and “Slut”.

Turning away, Yamane focuses her attention to the game.

Each of them grab a phone from the foldable table at the far end of the field, waiting for registration to close. There are explosive collars and weapons on a separate table, with instructions to wear one collar, and take an optional weapon. There are also instructions that prohibit firearms, which made Niragi groan and put his rifle down. Aguni deposits his pistol as well.

Slipping the explosive collar around her neck, Yamane watches as her fellow militants do the same. Niragi picks up a knife, and so does Aguni, while Last Boss sticks to his katana, and Yamane checks her daggers.

This will either be a Spade game, or another Club. Yamane scans the horizon, the green grass of the field overgrown from the lack of maintenance. She looks at the number of people around, and there are more than fifteen of them in the field. The worst case scenario she can think of is a battle-royale type of game where the last one standing wins. She has no chance against Aguni, Niragi, or Last Boss. But the explosive collar didn’t make sense. The lasers could easily shoot them down if they try to leave the arena, so an explosive collar wouldn’t be necessary.

The synthetic voice chirps from their phones as the last person picks up theirs.

“Registration closed. There are currently twenty players. Difficulty: Four of Spades.”

Yamane’s eyebrows furrow as her suspicions are confirmed.

“Game: Kibasen. Rules: Players must form a group of four, with three acting as the horse, and one as a spear. If the spear is taken out, the entire group is disqualified. Clear condition: Players must eliminate the rival team. Time limit: none.”

“Cavalry battle? I’m surprised that this isn’t classified as a Clubs game.” Yamane comments. “But there are no headbands or caps around. Don’t tell me…”

“The headband is likely the spear’s head,” Aguni grunts. “Wildcat. Be the spear.”

Yamane’s heart starts to race. She can’t do this, not with her injured shoulder. She’ll put the entire team at risk. “You heard Aguni,” Niragi barks, looming over her. “Get on top.”

“Wait a minute. Chief, I think Last Boss should be the spear,” Yamane interrupts, making all three look at her.

“Are you chickening out, little mouse?” Niragi asks her, tilting his head.

“Look at me,” she says, holding her good arm out. “My arm span is short. My daggers are too short. Last Boss is our tallest man. His limbs are longer than mine, and his katana has good range. He can strike farther than I could. Putting him on top would result in a longer, deadlier spear.”

A ponderous look on his face, Niragi turns to Aguni. Yamane’s eyes flick towards Last Boss, who was smiling at her.

“Chief, what do you think?” Niragi asks.

“Last Boss, you’re the spear,” Aguni grunts. “I’ll be the one in front. Niragi, Yamane, take the sides.”

Sighing in relief, Yamane takes her position at her right, which shields her injured left shoulder. “You’re lucky, little mouse,” Niragi whispers, bumping shoulders with her as they ducked, and Last Boss climbs over them.

His cold hand presses against Yamane’s head. “Yamaneko, thank you,” Last Boss tells her, lips curling into a smile. On top of her, he reminded her of a tiger once more, predatory, ready to strike.

She still couldn’t figure him out.

Around them, strangers are forming reluctant alliances, warily eyeing other teams. Soon, all five teams are lined up.

“Wait, are we supposed to fight each other? Where is this rival team?”

As if on cue, a rumble starts from a distance, growing louder, and the synthetic voice booms through the outdoor speakers. “Game Start!”

Through the same entrance they used, teams of masked men ran through, their spears carrying naginatas.

“Well, this should be interesting,” Niragi quips, tongue flicking out of his mouth. The other units of players unaffiliated from the Beach start to run and scream, while Aguni commands them to charge forward.

One unit from the enemy team charges at a friendly team, and lops the spear’s head off. His teammates’ explosive collars go off.

Then, they come face to face with the militants’ unit.

Yamane blows away a stray lock of hair from her face. “Shit. Here we go.”

[talatomaz]

reckless | dinah drake x lance!reader

a/n: this is kind of based on how i was feeling earlier this week. i lost someone close to me quite a while ago and though i know that grief never stops and it eventually just gets easier to deal with, it still doesn’t make it any less difficult

warnings: death, mentions of assault. brief sexual references at the end

word count: 1.9k

masterlist | request list | request rules

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Morning, baby.”

“Morning.”

You replied, smiling softly as your girlfriend placed a gentle kiss on your cheek before removing herself from your shared bed.

As Police Captain, Dinah always had to get up early, a lie in a rarity. It didn’t bother you though; you often woke up at the same time, sometimes earlier as you worked in the mayoral office though you weren’t a fan of the current woman in command.

Emily Pollard was both stubborn and narrow-minded; her stance on the anti-vigilante law further proving that. But you had swallowed your pride and worked for her, mainly to keep an eye on her but also so you could sway her on her decision-making.

Though Oliver Queen aka Green Arrow had been turned into somewhat of a martyr by Mayor Pollard, your sister, Laurel, couldn’t be further from that distinction.

After all, she was the beloved Black Canary and Mayor Pollard could never act untoward about that nor to you, lest she face the judgement of the Star City citizens.

So she kept you beside her, allowing you to enlighten her and best suit her decisions for the public.

As you sat up, you contemplated the dream that you had awoken from. It had left you unsettled because, for the first time in a while, you had dreamt of Laurel and she had acted as your Guardian Angel - not any different than when she was alive but it still unnerved you.

You constantly missed your big sister, the ache in your heart a constant reminder but you had a feeling that the loss would be much worse today. Nevertheless, you had to get on with your life, so with a huff, you left the warm bed and started to get ready alongside Dinah.

***

“Hey, beautiful. How’s your day going?”

Dinah asked, as you entered into her office, case files strewn all over her desk. Clearing a space, you placed the food you had bought from Big Belly Burger down on the desk and leaned down to give your girlfriend a kiss.

“Okay. Pollard’s annoying me but what else is new? How about here?”

“A bit busy. But that’s to be expected given the events of tonight. Everyone’s scrambling to make sure the best protective measures are in place.“

Tonight, at City Hall, Mayor Pollard was due to be holding a function. One of the random fundraisers she always hosted, to pretend as if she cared about the Glades and the wellbeing of the people that lived there. She had you running around, double checking everything, which was a good thing as you weren’t idle long enough to dwell on the dream you had had earlier but you could still feel the painful longing.

“Y/N.”

You blinked, looking at Dinah, soda in hand, staring at you with concern.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I lost you there for a second. What’s up?” Her eyes narrowed in question.

You could never hide much from your girlfriend, her detective skills always managing to have you spilling secrets, but this time, you were able to come up with a relative excuse.

“Sorry, nothing. I was just thinking about tonight and what else I have left to do for Pollard.”

It wasn’t technically a lie but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. And whilst you felt bad, you didn’t want to burden Dinah with your thoughts of her vigilante predecessor.

Looking into Dinah’s hazel eyes, you could see a sliver of doubt but she nodded at your answer,

“If you need to get back, we can always catch up later tonight.”

“It’s alright, Dee. I’m just-”

You were interrupted when your phone trilled in your pocket. Sliding the green answer button, you put the phone against your ear and winced.

“Someone has messed up. I did not want Salmon. I said chicken as the appetisers. And the podium has gone. I need it.”

Sighing, you spoke into the phone,

“Yes, Mayor Pollard. I’ll sort it all out for you and reprimand the individual responsible for you. I’ll be in your office in 10 minutes.”

Disconnecting the call, you shoved the phone back into your pocket with a sigh, horrified to feel your eyes welling up.

You quickly blinked them away as Dinah stood up, gently kissing your forehead and then lowering her lips to yours.

Dinah was only ever gentle with you. With anyone else, she was to be feared. Whether that be as the Captain of the SCPD or the Black Canary. But with you, that facade was gone and she allowed herself to feel safe with you which, in turn, made you feel safe with her.

Returning her kiss, you pulled away, “I’m sorry to do this. We’ll catch up later at City Hall.”

“Have fun with Pollard. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

***

Dinah could tell that you were a little off.

Since arriving at City Hall, you had avoided her, although that wasn’t hard because as Police Captain, Dinah was pulled in every direction.

But now, after the formalities of the event, a more relaxed atmosphere took over as drinks were poured and music was played. And Dinah watched as you remained in work mode whilst also drinking a lot. She did worry about your drinking, having been made aware of your sister’s past, but you were always collected, apart from tonight.

Dinah watched as you approached the bar, quickly downing, what looked to be, a Scotch on the rocks.

It was killing her to not be your source of comfort. She just wanted to make you feel better but wanted to know what had caused you to be like this in the first place.

“Hey, Dinah.”

She turned to face Oliver and Felicity, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists.

“Hey guys. Quick question, have you noticed that y/n’s been acting a bit weird today?”

“No, not really.” Felicity answered.

“Why? What’s up?” Oliver asked.

Having grown up with you, Oliver had become a brotherly figure to you and often took care of you; especially when you had lost Laurel and when Sara had left to join the Legends.

“I’m not sure. She-”

Dinah turned back to face the bar but was shocked to see that you were no longer there.

“I-I’ll be right back.”

You staggered into the hallway, your heels loudly clacking against the marble floor. After having rectified all of Mayor Pollard’s issues and successfully dealing with the fundraiser tonight, you found yourself drowning your feelings in alcohol.

You did feel bad because you had been purposely avoiding Dinah but you didn’t know how you could face her without breaking down.

Truth be told, you weren’t doing so well and you didn’t know why today was so bad. It wasn’t as if it was a special day for you to be missing Laurel but the loss felt as bad as it did the day she died.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a strong hand push you against the wall. You looked up to find yourself caged by a man you barely recognised; some politician’s lackey in a suit.

You were too inebriated to properly fight back and when you tried to remove yourself, he pushed you back against the wall.

“Stay still, y/n. Yes, I know who you are. I see you everyday helping that bitch Pollard and I just can’t contain myself around you.”

He leaned in to kiss you, but you, now slowly gaining control of your actions, pushed him away once more.

“Get off of me, you creep.”

You struggled under his harsh grip as he pinned your arms above your head.

“Shut the fuck up. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

“Get off. Let go of me.” You repeated, now trying to thrash against him.

The hold he had on you suddenly relented and you looked up, surprised at what you saw.

“She said, let go of her.”

Dinah’s voice was hard enough to make chills run down your spine and you weren’t even on the receiving end of it.

She punched your attacker, leaving him unconscious and gestured to someone behind her to cuff him. When he was taken away, she stared at you.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head profusely, immediately regretting that decision when your head started to spin.

“What’s wrong, y/n?”

“N-Nothing.”

“You’re lying.” She said, crossing her shoulders over her chest.

“I’m fine.” You said, intending it to come out firmly, but you could hear the defensiveness in your own voice.

“I can handle myself, Dinah.”

“Really? Because I don’t think you can. You’re acting fucking reckless, y/n! You’re never this drunk.”

You winced at her bitter tone.

“Leave me alone, Dinah. Please.”

You walked away, pushing away any attempts of her stopping you, and you went straight back to the bar.

***

As the music played, you felt yourself sober up after being given some food by the bartender.

Your eyes roamed the dance floor when you spotted Dinah talking with Rene and, when you jumped off the stool you were on, you watched as he nodded towards you and excused himself.

You made your way over to your girlfriend who was standing alone, leaning against a pillar.

Standing in front of her, you found yourself too exhausted for words and murmured a simple “I’m sorry’” as you wrapped your arms around her waist and rested your head against her chest.

Her arms, almost unconsciously, immediately unfolded as she held your small form; one hand around you, the other cradling your head against her.

“Y/N? Baby, what’s wrong?”

She gently held your face in her hands and turned your head upwards so you could look at her. She was stunned when she saw tears running down your face.

“Babygirl, you’re scaring me. What is it?”

Wiping away your tears, you sniffled, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. And I didn’t meant to be reckless either. I just-I’m not doing too good today, Dee. I-I’m really missing Laurel and I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”

“Oh baby,” She brought you close to her again, shushing you as you started to sob.

“It’s alright, baby. We all miss people that we’ve lost sometimes. You shouldn’t be sorry for that. I just wish you would have told me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, stop apologising, it’s okay.”

“You’re right. I’m s-”

You stopped yourself when you saw Dinah staring at you with a look you knew too well.

“Come on, let me take you home.”

***

It was the middle of the night and you felt at peace, Dinah having replaced the pain you were feeling with something much more desirable.

She was now asleep, curled up at the other end of the bed and you sighed happily.

You then felt the bed dip slightly as Dinah turned to face you. She gathered you into her arms and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I love you, beautiful.”

Your skin flushed at the endearment term. Even half asleep, her voice was still husky and had the same effect on you.

“I love you too, Dinah Drake.”

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 1: The Nightmares

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Nadya has a nice job, a gorgeous date-friend, and a calm Feral-free life. But terrifying nightmares keep her from truly enjoying all the things going for her, and the strain of it forces Nadya and her friends to reach a tipping point.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Except for the drawer in the fridge now explicitly labeled ‘BLOOD BAGS ONLY. LILY’S. DON’T TOUCH :)’ (the last part of which is a joke albeit not one Nadya finds very funny) it takes Nadya possibly far too long to realize her life hasn’t really changed all that much since her discovery of vampires.

Well… unless you wanted to count the time she was nearly killed by a bunch of rabid Ferals at a period-attire-required costume ball. Or the time her boss was wrongly convicted of plotting to kill a ton of people for some selfish gains (the details of which she’s still a little fuzzy, and by now asking would just make it uncomfortable). Or when she was one second away from being Evil Vampire Politician food only to be rescued by a Less Evil and Much Older Vampire.

But those weren’t out of the ordinary for someone hurled into this world headfirst and without the pizza that was promised.

Right?

Nadya still goes to work every night and comes home (almost) every day. Though lately with the hours they’ve been pulling she ends up investing in a comfy airplane pillow for quick half-naps at her desk when she can.

She still spends her weekends like a tv sitcom montage of varying positions on the couch while her room mate plays video games and occasionally hacks into bank servers on the side.

She still fumbles over her tongue tied up in a dozen knots every time she sees the gorgeous beauty that is her We’re-Not-Using-Labels-Yet, Kamilah. Though the fact that a 2,000 years-and-then-some vampire babe still finds Nadya’s utter lack of social skills charming in any possible way is a little suspicious.

Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Everything is perfect just the way it is — was — continues to be — will be going forward. Nadya says some version of these facts to herself every day; sometimes out loud and sometimes in her head. Repeats them like a mantra as she goes about her daily routines before and after work. Everything is perfect just the way it is. Everything is perfect just the way it is.

She does this with the hope that one day she just might believe it’s true.

That one day she won’t wake up in the middle of the afternoon screaming her lungs out feeling them torn from her throat that’s still there; scrambling for all ten fingers and all ten toes because some weren’t there a second ago only she doesn’t quite remember how long ago she lost the big toe but it was definitely before the Crimean War; starving with a hunger she can’t describe but she’s sure her friends understand because that’s why Lily (jokingly) put the sticker on her blood drawer the way she did.

Everything is perfect just the way it is. Except when Nadya dreams a thousand lifetimes she’s never lived and so so many of them end with her drowning in innocent blood.

Never has she been more grateful for Lily’s long weekends with her girlfriend, Maricruz, down below the restless New York City streets in the Shadow Den.

Nadya takes long full swallows of tap water in between breaths. Her hand is shaking bad enough to spill but it’s just water and it’s just the bathroom sink and she’ll clean it up later. She should be lucky — just a few minutes ago she lost that hand in a duel against Catherine the Great.

It would have grown back, but still.

THUD. THUD. THU—UD.

Oh great.

“Will you dykes stop screamin’ bloody-freakin’-murder every single god damn day?!” Bellows the ever-delightful upstairs neighbor. Nadya never replies; not even when he storms his stomping feet all the way down the stairwell to pound on her door enraged and miserable.

Still — she only needs one hand to rip out a human’s tongue.

Nadya takes it back the moment she thinks it. Scrambles like she could catch every letter in the air before it floats off to wherever terrible thoughts like that go because they weren’t her thoughts please, please someone believe her.

When she’s showered the sweat from her body, wiped tears from her eyes and wrung the water from her hair Nadya decides, like the masochist she is, to try that sleeping thing again. It’s gonna be a long day at the office if she doesn’t.

And she’d like to think she wars with herself longer than she does — that her decision isn’t already made long before she rummages around in the dark of her blacked out room and plucks her glasses case out from underneath Kamilah’s treasured copy of Hamlet.

But there’s no one around. And these days Nadya can only be honest when she’s alone. Even if it’s only to herself.

She opens the fake leather and feels around for two small pills; spills a bit of water on her sheets because of the shaky hands thing when she knocks them back with the rest of the glass.

She hates it — hates herself for even having considered it in the first place and then some more for actually doing it. But how else is Nadya supposed to hope for some slim chance of mercy and dreamless sleep?

Nadya tries a bit of meditative breathing to pass the time while she waits for the sleeping pills to kick in. Decides maybe now would be a good time to try that mantra of hers.

“Everything…” — inhale; she doesn’t even recognize the sound of her own voice, exhale— “is perfect… just the… just…”

The neighbor resumes his not-so-passive aggressive elephant dance above her head. But Nadya’s weeping so loudly she can barely hear him.

Adrian rests the back of his hand against her forehead lightly. The chill of his touch makes her shiver — and more importantly brings Nadya out of wherever she was that kept her from being there with him.

But Nadya’s relief is short-lived.

“It’s been some time since I’ve had a temperature to feel but I know a fever when I see one.” She tries to wave off his concern like she has every other time, but no dice. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“‘Cause I’m not.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmmhm…” Though it would probably help if Nadya remembered what she was mmhm-ing about. But her desktop screen-saver hasn’t been updated since Windows 95 so there goes her hopes of pretending.

Adrian isn’t having it. Mindful of her not-tip-top-shape condition he grabs the arms of her desk chair and turns her slowly; his pace painfully careful and full of caution.

Like she doesn’t know the strength he’s capable of. Like she hasn’t felt it under her own skin.

“Nadya — please Nadya look here, look at my finger.”

She remembers the last time he sounded that worried. One of the rare times the things she sees are both from her eyes and not — where she’s both the main character in the story and just another villain. Back at the Musea Sanguis.

When Valdas did this to me, she thinks bitterly.

But Adrian can’t know about that; can’t see her as weaker and more fragile than she already is. So she sits up a little straighter in her chair — pauses Adrian’s efforts at playing doctor because there’s no way she would be able to see the sun with how badly her glasses are smudged from sleep — and dutifully follows the path he traces in the air.

Nadya (with the surprising aid of Kamilah no less) had eventually managed to convince Adrian whatever psychic mind games the strange and impossibly enigmatic vampire had played on her was nothing more than a one-off. He was no less attentive but that’s just who Adrian is; she could accept that.

Kamilah was a different story. She didn’t help downplay the situation to Adrian because she was content to let Nadya deal with everything alone. Back in the Shadow Den, Nadya had confessed the painful truths of her headaches and nightmares. Hoping, praying maybe, that someone with her wealth of experience and knowledge could give a name to her torment.

Only she couldn’t. And Nadya watches her carry the weight of it every single night.

What Kamilah refuses to understand though is that Nadya is just… so tired. She’s tired of the questions and studies and the three PET scans because why not buy an extremely expensive brain imaging machine for the secret lab underneath your financial empire for one single person.

Nadya knows she’s a terrible person for complaining. She knows Kamilah just wants her alive and safe and pain-free.

She’s just so very very tired.

Adrian groans with effort as he stands. Old habits in pretending to be human, he told her once. Not that he needs to — they’re all alone up here. Nadya is convinced he just likes doing it.

“Well doctor,” Nadya teases, “tell it to me straight. Will I live?”

He doesn’t find it nearly as funny.

“If you were feeling overworked you should have told me.”

“I manage constant anxiety — this is kind of just a state of being.”

“Then maybe we should get you properly che—”

“No.”

Which is her biggest mistake; and she’s made quite a few. But no one is so adamant so quickly without looking suspicious. Nadya is no exception.

She tries to backtrack. “I just… I don’t like doctors. Actual doctors — not my boss.”

“I am an actual doctor,” he corrects but it’s offhanded, “and that isn’t the point. You’re a grown woman — I know — and I don’t want to overstep.”

“Then don’t.”

Adrian closes his mouth softly; lets the words die in the back of his throat. Nadya avoids watching as he returns to his office because she knows she won’t be strong enough to keep up the act. Remember, she reminds herself, this is for the best.

It’s to Adrian’s credit when he emerges from his office come the end of the work night with his coat over his arm and a smile on his face. Even if it is a little strained around the edges.

“Ready to head out?” he asks like nothing happened. Like she wasn’t a stone cold witch to him earlier because he made the mistake of caring.

Nadya hesitates. She had already resigned herself to taking the subway home. But rather than make it harder on herself she just nods and gathers up her things; knows he watches her every motion with sharp eyes and preternatural focus even while her back is turned.

If he isn’t convinced of her ruse by the time she joins him at the elevator he doesn’t say anything. Just holds the door open for her and makes chit-chat to fill the silence. Maybe some day she’ll be able to choke out how grateful she is for it.

When Adrian finally pulls up in front of her building, Nadya is practically already halfway out of the car. He stops her with a hand on her arm.

“Is Lily still out?” he asks, but what he means is are you still alone.

Nadya tries not to make it obvious when she shrugs him off.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Adrian.”

“… See you tomorrow, Nadya.”

He doesn’t pull away until she’s in her building and the door is closed behind her.

Later on, in the middle of the day when she wakes from a deep sleep choking on the feeling of blood hot and wet and satisfying running down her throat a small part of Nadya can’t help but blame him.

She shouldn’t…  but she’s doing a lot of things she shouldn’t lately.

Kamilah leans back in her chair and mulls over the flavor of the wine. She’s got that face on that Nadya always worries about when they do things like this. Enigmatic; like she has thoughts but they’re probably much harsher than the words she actually says; “It wouldn’t be my first choice to pair with our meal, but it has its merits.”

“You hate it.”

“Did I say that?” Kamilah quirks an eyebrow her way and that look makes Nadya squirm in her seat for ten thousand other reasons; none of which have to do with wine, the amazing fish entree in front of her, or the high-end restaurant in general.

Nadya calms herself with a sip of her own. She’s actually kind of a fan of it. Sure it was the first fruity option on the menu (after Kamilah translated, of course) but that didn’t mean it wasn’t as ritzy as every other bottle on every other table.

“You didn’t have to let me pick.”

“I wanted to see which appealed most to you.”

When Kamilah says things like that, Nadya can’t help but feel like she’s part of some grand experiment. An attempt at seeing how ‘the other half lives’ or something equally ridiculous. “Why?”

Why let me choose something when its obviously wrong?

Like everything she does, Kamilah chooses her answer carefully.

“You did not choose because you knew the brand, nor the label or even the translation of it. You did not choose this particular wine because you had tried it before, or because you hoped it would compliment some aspect of our meal.”

Nadya feels the tips of her ears burning hot and takes another large gulp to calm her nerves. “I picked the first thing I saw, Kamilah. It’s not that deep.”

Then Kamilah surprises her; she smiles. Not something overly brilliant and bright and yearning — but rare in public and rarer still these days.

“On the contrary. I have always known humans were impulsive creatures. But your impulses fascinate me, Nadya,” Her fingertip traces slender around the lip of her wine glass; holds Nadya hypnotic like everything else about her; her voice, her beauty… that striking sincerity.

“More than any other. Perhaps in ways I do not yet know how to articulate.”

At the other end of the restaurant the violinist returns from his break and resumes his melody; long, slow and rich. Like if he put Kamilah herself into song.

Without breaking their eye contact Nadya carefully turns the woman’s hand facing up by the wrist. Kamilah crooks her finger; scrapes just the tip of her nail tentatively over her human pulse point that has to be like a marching band in her supernatural ears.

Heck, Nadya doesn’t even have supernatural hearing and she catches every thump-thump of her own heart clear as day.

It’s so so rare that Kamilah shows this — and for this long. This kind of public affection; scandalous, salacious practically. Not like she hasn’t been constantly stroking the inside of Nadya’s calf with the tip of her boot since they sat down, though.

It had taken Nadya a couple of months (and more than a few evenings of forcing—actually forcing—Adrian to stop working, pull out the scotch, and explain exactly what the heck might be running through Kamilah’s mind for Nadya’s own mental peace) but she understands now.

Kamilah isn’t private because she’s embarrassed of Nadya. No — Kamilah is private because she is greedy for moments like these. She keeps them behind closed because they are for her eyes only; memories for her to brand onto her soul.

Kamilah weaves their hands together gracefully; the silver of Nadya’s charm bracelet curled in a possessive touch.

“Kamilah…” she whispers, and watches as the woman kisses the back of her hand reverently.

“Nadya.”

Only Kamilah can make her name both a warning and a promise.

[TEXT]: I c SOMEONES bed is still made [TEXT]: gedditttttt ;););)

[TEXT]: OMG Lily stop it

Lily takes her sweet time replying. Leaves Nadya waiting… and waiting… and then there’s the sweet sweet nectar of the gods coffee in front of her and there’s even a little bit of cinnamon sprinkled on top and Lily can wait.

The coffee needs her.

She takes the mug in both hands and drinks deeply — of course the brew scalds her tongue but how is it that Gerard can make such a darn good cup of coffee every time?

“Careful now,” says the Englishman while he goes about putting together Kamilah’s usual table setting; paper folded crisp to the financial section, “you’ll spill all over your nice blouse.”

She’ll give him that, actually. But as she brings her mug to her lips his amused smile falters, then vanishes altogether. For an old man who barely sees the sun Nadya didn’t think he could get any more pale until she sees it with her own eyes.

She follows his startled look to the red marks adorned on her wrists. Bracelets of bruises and Nadya herself was a little surprised when she caught sight of them but if memory serves Kamilah had… ahem, tied the scarves a little tighter than usual.

“Oh. Ha. Uh…”

“Oh I don’t think that is any business of mine,” Gerard recovers hastily, “so long as you’re aware of them, I suppose. Though I’d ask for my peace of mind that you ask Lady Kamilah to fix that for you before you leave.”

When the butler’s back is turned, Nadya touches the skin gently. It barely even hurts.

Kamilah joins them shortly after; returns the butler’s “Good evening, Lady Kamilah,” with a nod and the kind of smile she reserves only for him while she sits.

Nadya knows the routine quite well by now. Kamilah exchanges wordless pleasantries, then takes a sip of her espresso. When she’s cleared the first page of the paper’s financial reports she might join in on a conversation, but more often than not simply continues reading.

So it’s safe to say that when Kamilah pushes the paper aside and turns her seat to face Nadya fully it feels like she’s woken up in an episode of The Twilight Zone.

“Well good morning to you too, sunshine.” Nadya smiles… and doesn’t get one back.

“Why didn’t you tell me your nightmares were getting worse?”

The color drains from Nadya’s face. There goes the mood.

Behind them, Gerard makes a point of clearing his throat far louder than necessary. “You know — I think I might have forgotten to grab the laundry tonight.” He quickly rinses off the last of his dishes and takes his leave of them.

Kamilah waits expectantly in silence. She won’t be repeating herself. Only Nadya can’t muster up the courage to even look her in the eyes anymore.

Instead she fiddles with her nails in her lap. “I guess pretending not to know what you’re talking about is out of the question…”

“Astute,” replies the vampire curtly.

“Any chance I could beg for this to happen any other time but now?” But that just gets her a raised eyebrow in reply so, yeah no. And the idea of waiting out the patience of a woman like Kamilah is borderline laughable. Yet Nadya — she just can’t. Like the idea physically has her in knots and the biggest one is on her tongue which she kind of needs to, you know, speak.

“Please,” and she hates how pitiful she sounds; how weak, “please Kamilah can we… can we not ruin this?”

“I don’t grasp your meaning.”

“This. Us, right now. After a really good date and—and a really good night and… the morning or-whatever-after is supposed to be good too and if we start talking about it I just…” I’m going to ruin it like I ruin everything.

Though she’s thrown for a loop when Kamilah reaches out; places a firm palm on Nadya’s knee and waits, permanent and present, until she gets what she wants.

And maybe Nadya gives a little bit too much too easily. “You already know what’s happening. What else do you want me to say?” Yes, of course they’re getting worse. But if she admits that, she can’t pretend any more.

“You may sleep through these night terrors of yours, Nadya, but perhaps it would benefit you to realize it is you alone that does.”

No it doesn’t — it doesn’t benefit her at all. In fact the realization of it makes her queasy. Suddenly Nadya wishes she hadn’t guzzled half of her coffee and daily sugar intake.

“I didn’t mean to…” didn’t mean to choke on my words, “to wake you.”

“I believe you. If you had maybe you would have been honest with me from the beginning.” Kamilah definitely doesn’t miss the way her heart skips a beat; her frown deepens.

“I—I’ve been honest with you…”

“How easily you lie.”

“Okay — okay mostly; I’ve been mostly honest with you.” The more she talks the harder it gets for Nadya to keep the edge out of her tone. She’s not had a restful sleep in weeks, darn it, she’s owed a little snappiness.

Unlike Adrian though, Kamilah doesn’t take kindly to her attitude. She leans back in her seat with one leg over the other and if this is how she treats the people she does business with no wonder she’s one of the most powerful executives in the country.

“And pray tell how am I to fulfill my promise to you with only mostly-truths? How are mostly-truths able to better help me understand your suffering so that somehow I may discover a way to ease it?”

“Maybe because you keeping your promise isn’t my first priority right now.”

“But it is mine.”

“It’s not about you, Kamilah.”

“Isn’t it?”

Nadya grits her teeth. “No. It isn’t. None of this is about you. I’m the one going through it all, not you.”

Her words are bitter at the back of her throat all the way up to the tip of her tongue and beyond. Like something thick and dark and foul that seeps from her pores and just… out.

After a moment Kamilah takes her espresso and sips it idly. It’s something to do with her hands that isn’t harmful, something to do with her mouth that isn’t scolding.

Nadya thinks of a dozen different ways to apologize in the following quiet. One day she might even pluck up the courage to say them.

“What happened?” She asks instead, and watches Kamilah’s reaction. The stiffness of her breaks Nadya’s heart. “You said it yourself; I’m asleep. And I don’t always remember —”

“Last night included.”

She nods. “Last night included. So… please? Please.” Which is far too much begging for someone actually terrified to get their answer.

But she’s a glutton for punishment. That much is crystal clear.

For a moment it looks like Kamilah is ready to walk away; that she’s had enough. Then she changes her mind. It hits Nadya way too late that the woman is shifting in her seat; that she’s uncertain.

“That bad, huh?”

“It is not an incident I wish to repeat.”

“Like I do?” And she totally deserves the glare sent her way. “You know what I mean.”

“You were in immense distress, Nadya!” Kamilah very nearly shouts. Though even that holds her usual husked tone; her inner silence. She doesn’t raise her voice out of rage and that knowledge is scaring the both of them.

What it means is scaring the both of them.

“You tossed and turned and nothing would wake you. My every effort was wasted — I would have had better luck rousing a statue to life! I find myself despairing to think of what it must be like when you sleep alone in your own bed. Without someone to at least try… even if in vain. Without someone to…”

Don’t stop now. She has to hear it; she has to. “Without someone to what, Kamilah?”

“Without someone to hold you down and keep you from hurting yourself.”

Suddenly her wrists are a far less pleasant thing to look at; now that she knows they aren’t bruises of pleasure, but bruises of pain.

Kamilah watches as she rubs at the skin self-consciously. “I meant to heal you before you woke. So that you would not have to see what I resorted to.”

“You held me down hard enough to bruise.”

“And the very sight repels me.” Kamilah tries to take her hands but Nadya can’t help it — she pulls back with an impulse she doesn’t really understand, “When I had tried everything I could think of to no avail… I weighed my options. I would rather you know and understand what these nightmares are doing to you than find yourself unable to wake up at all.”

Unable to wake up at all. Hard words for Nadya to swallow. But they’ve got nothing on the pain Kamilah tries to hide with the long curtain of her hair. Something so strong she can’t push it back beneath the mask.

With a deep breath Nadya rests her wrists turned up in Kamilah’s hands. Rests a lot more in them too — and not even just tonight, right here right now. But it’s Nadya who solves everyone else’s problems — not the other way around. Can she be blamed for holding something back? For trying to keep herself from being vulnerable in the face of such invulnerability?

Slender fingers brush softer than a feather over Nadya’s skin.

“I anticipated… an uglier sight than this.” The vampiress admits and her voice is strained. The very thought is eating her alive.

“Well, it’s not. And, hey — did I hurt you?” She roams her eyes over every visible inch of the woman. Just because she can’t see anything, though, doesn’t mean nothing is there.

Kamilah can’t stand the sight any longer — regardless of lack of pain or noble intent. She holds back on answering Nadya’s question to bring a hand to her parted lips. The barest flash of pearly white, then red beading like a swollen jewel in compliment with her skin.

Kamilah takes great care in easing the blood over and into her skin; like a fine oil or lotion — something to make Nadya beautiful.

Maybe to a vampire this is beautiful.

The bruising heals rapidly before their eyes; holds Nadya captive in a reel on fast-forward that blooms to purpling blue to mottled red to greenish to yellow then poof. Like it never even happened.

Kamilah strokes the result with a tenderness that should be reserved for fine silks and glittering gold. Should be, Nadya thinks, and yet it’s her that gets that affection; that promise.

Who needs impassioned declarations of love when they could have this?

“I know you mean to ask if you somehow managed to injure me physically while you slept. But when I say I was wounded…” she knows Nadya so so well and keeps her from pulling away by lacing their fingers together, “when I say I was wounded, I do so in the hopes that you’ll understand I will no longer accept mostly-truths.”

She’s regretting saying that the more Kamilah repeats it. “I understand.”

“Best that you do.”

Nadya pushes herself into the woman’s arms in a tight embrace; buries her face into the coolness of her neck and it jostles Nadya’s glasses askew but she couldn’t care less. If she had looked at Kamilah for one more moment she would have broken down.

All this and they still don’t have any answers. They just have more questions and more symptoms and… and more resolve, maybe. But it’s not something they can solve in one night.

And just because Nadya doesn’t remember anything clear from her nightmares doesn’t mean they don’t linger. Something of a shadow in the corner of her eye when she looks in the mirror.

Maybe its time she forces that shadow into the light.

[star-anise]

My sister turns 18 in a couple months, and mentioned to me tonight that many guys (90-100% of them 18+) have expressed attraction to her(neither new nor surprising, she’s very easy to mistake for a college kid), but specifically that a few of them ‘want her’ and at least one of those guys is 24, “But he’s conflicted about it”, b/c age. My brain is🚨 ⚠️👎‼️🚫⛔️❌, but she says it’s fine b/c she’s mature for her age. How can I properly explain why this isn’t right? I’m terrified for her.

Ohhh boy. Yeah. I feel you.  

I also feel for your sister. I remember being a mature-for-my-age teenage girl and going, “Eugh, boys my age are gross.” Older guys felt at the time like the perfect solution. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with dating someone slightly older (though 17 is just a bit out of a 24 year old’s creepiness margin). Sometimes it can have added benefits; when I was 29 I started dating my 44-year-old girlfriend, and I benefit all the time from her additional knowledge and perspective about folk music history, about pre-9/11 politics, about what the LGBT+ community was like in the 90s. Those are things her age adds to our relationship.

Here’s the problem, and Heather Corinna at Scarleteen expresses it beautifully in her piece “Why I Deeply Dislike Your Older Boyfriend”. It’s quite likely that the guys hitting on your sister are not random young adult men. What’s likely is that they are men who go out of their way to date younger women. The worry you and I have is that they want her because she’s younger and less experienced, so when she’s older and more experienced, they’ll either 1) dump her because they don’t have the upper hand anymore, and it will hurt, or 2) begin to physically and emotionally pressure her to be smaller, more obedient, and less self-confident so they can keep the upper hand.

But here’s the other thing, the thing I know from the domestic violence world: If you push her really hard not to date these guys, you probably won’t convince her. But you probably will convince her that you’re a busybody who thinks she’s young and inexperienced and making bad choices. Which will motivate her to never, ever go to you for help if you turn out to be right. (Related: When You Don’t Like Their Partner)

So it’s totally counterintuitive, but the solution is actually to invest your faith, and your energy, into her ability to make decisions for herself. Becoming an adult means trying out new things and having new experiences, and more importantly than that, learning from those experiences. 

Below the jump: SPECIFICS

What I want for your sister is for her to be really ambitious: To say, I want someone who supports and encourages me all the time, who makes me really happy, who makes my body feel amazing. And then for her to get what she wants. But that means she has to ask questions like:

Am I getting as much as I give in this relationship?

Are my thoughts, feelings, needs, and values being given equal weight to my partner’s?

Does my partner support and encourage me as much as I support and encourage them?

Does this person encourage me to have a healthy and vibrant life, with friends and interests, beyond them? Do they respect that I have attachments and loyalties that are as important, or more important, to me than they are?

Do I feel like I have the right to say no to my partner, to tell them I’m angry with them, or break up with them, without them treating me in a way that is hurtful or violent?

If I express hurt or anger about my partner’s behaviour, will they hear me out respectfully, treat my feelings as valid, and change that behaviour in the future?

Sexually, does this person treat me how I want to be treated? Are we doing things that deeply excite me? Are they interested in learning about what I want and making that happen? Can I tell them if something they want to do is boring or unpleasant for me, at the time or later, and expect them to respect my feelings? Do they go out of their way to make sex safe and enjoyable for me? Do our interests feel compatible, or do we want very different things out of sex?

Is this relationship helping me live the kind of life I want?

With these questions, I hope she won’t take “no” for an answer. I’ve known a lot of people who will compromise–”The sex isn’t great but they’re really caring,” “They’re a little annoying but the sex is fantastic,” whatever combination you like–but the more “no”s these questions turn up, the more she should wonder: Couldn’t I do better with someone else? Your sister’s got a ton of potential and, it sounds like, guys beating down her door; it sounds like if she moves on from one partner, she won’t have to wait ages before another possibility comes along.

So the best thing you can equip her with is the knowledge that she gets to choose. She gets to try a partner out for date or a few, and then decide, “Do I want to keep seeing them, or move on?” She can keep asking those questions; some people are really great for the first few months, but then stop trying so hard. If, at any point, she wants to break up, she gets to; yes it will hurt, but less than the eventual reality of being with someone who’s not really into you and really wishes they’d left ages ago. And if any of them won’t respect her ability to decide for herself who she’s spending time with, dating, or sleeping with, she’s got you, her friends and family, the domestic violence movement, and the law on her side. (As someone who’s worked on them, domestic violence crisis lines are absolutely happy to handle things like, “My boyfriend is controlling but I feel bad about dumping him” or “I can’t get the police to take my ex stalking me seriously”)

In terms of abuse, specifically, there are two pieces I’ve seen that give a really good perspective on the kind of abuse I’m really worried your sister is susceptible to:

The Lizzie Bennet Diaries have a subplot where Lizzie’s teenage sister falls deeply under the spell of an older guy, and every time her family expresses concern, she’s even more determined to prove them wrong by sticking with him

Illymation’s How I Met My Abusive (Ex) Boyfriend is a memoir about a skeevy relationship, and how the author kept rationalizing it away and struggled to tell her family what was going on

The important thing to talk about, I think, is that while you hope the best for her, it is okay if she finds herself stuck in a situation she’s unhappy with and wants to get out. By not forcing her to choose between you and some guy, you make it easier for her to come back without being afraid you’ll say “I told you so”.

Who knows? Maybe (maybe) that 24-year-old will respect the hell out of her and encourage her in all her dreams and they will grow old and happy together. I mean, weirder things have happened. Or maybe she’ll think seriously about him for a bit longer and go, “Nope, he’s a loser, I won’t bother.” The important thing is, it’s up to her.

[rebelheartsmustbefree]

The truth shall set you free...or not...

“Why is Charlie growing so fast?”

*The panicked tone to Danny’s voice rose as he posed the question to me. A much bigger Charlie sitting on my lap, his hands gripping tight at my index fingers. I looked down into his bright blue eyes that reminded me that I was the reason he existed at all. The situation was complicated to say the least. A child conceived by two humans only to be nearly killed by the actions of his mother’s impromptu suicide. That night in the bar forever etched in my mind. Unfortunately, Danny had no recollection of these events because I scrubbed his memory. Which was now front and center in biting my ass right now with trying to answer his questions. How do you tell a guy that he really isn’t the father of a baby he clings to out of the memory of his lost love? How do I even become that guy who destroys someone’s whole world? But the facts were staring us right in the face as little baby Charlie was quickly becoming a toddler in less than a month from his actual birth. There literally was no way I could lie Charlie and I’s way out of this. I had to make a decision that I really thought I had more time to weigh out the options for, the luxury of time was gone.*

Danny, I need you open up your mind and just listen to me. Okay? I have something really hard to tell you and I need you to promise that no matter what, you have to keep your shit together for this little boy. Charlie needs you in his life.

*His head nodded slightly as I spoke. I had his attention and it was now or never. Telling humans about -what- I am is something I was definitely not in the habit of doing. But like I said, I had no choice with this one. I started at the beginning. When him, Charlie’s mother and their male friend came into the bar that night. How she was already pregnant and struggling with not knowing who the father was between the two males in her company on that evening.*

You two began fighting, a bottle was busted on the table and she couldn’t take it. Rather than telling both of you of her uncertainty, she chose to take the neck of that broken bottle and jab it into her neck. Before I realized what had happened she was dead.

*I was already losing him. The rapid series of blinks of was a red flag that I needed to already rein him back in. Charlie had fallen asleep on my chest so I scooped him up, put him on the love seat, covered him and came back to Danny. I needed my arms and hands free for what I needed to do. I had never released someone’s memories before so this was a long shot. He was already sputtering out words in response to the things I had tried to explain. Before he could even finish another sentence, I had placed my fingers along his temple, my other hand bracing the back of his neck. I then willed him to close his eyes, then mine closed after as I rummaged through recent events and found the blur of space where that night had transpired. I paused briefly to ask myself if I really wanted to do this or not. Without another hesitation, I plucked that memory out and placed it front and center. The truth splayed right out there in his consciousness, unable to deny what had really happened that night and a better picture of the role I had actually played in those critical moments.

The tear dropped on my arm, one and then another moments later. I think he had gathered the truths I was trying to reflect. It was his resolve that broke right there on the couch, his mind was reeling and I didn’t want to cause anymore damage. I let my fingers drop from the side of his face, my hand gently caressing over the back of his neck as I kept my hold firm in hopes to keep him here with me. I didn’t need him flying off the handle and doing anything out of rage or haste. I desperately needed to keep this situation grounded. It wasn’t like these moments came with a playbook. So precedent was not set in stone. I was on my own. Trying to handle a delicate situation. If indeed this could be handled at all. Best case scenario here was to hope he would be cool with the whole dead girlfriend thing. Oh and the fact that Charlie was in fact not human or of his blood anymore. So many hard pills to swallow here and I was dealing them out like candy at this point. Forget hoping for the best, I was praying I would get out of this without this male having a full on breakdown.*

“I… wait so Charlie is.. What exactly are you, Isaac?”

*So I guess we were going right to the point. Skipping all the pleasantries and going straight for the throat. I broke all contact between Danny and I, scooting away a bit back on the couch to give us some distance as my mind milled through all the possible word choices and outcomes. And at the end of each test run, this male would never hear the words that would make him feel better about any of this. I was fucked.*

I’m half Angel, half human. This is my mother’s home. I lost her a few months ago. Charlie has my grace and we are bonded. Like guardian and his charge. Do you get what I mean?

*I sat back and waited for all the pieces to fit into place. I swear I could hear the gears click...click...and there go the eyes, going wide when everything kind of just sinks in. His eyes went to Charlie, still blissfully unaware and asleep as everything around him was falling apart. I had to envy the kid in this moment. Not knowing the gravity of the situation and just all warm and snug over there with a thumb in his mouth. The kid was far too precious for me to be in charge. The inevitability of me screwing him up was insurmountable.*

Look Danny, Charlie isn’t going to be like the other kids. As you can tell, he is growing up fast. He is supposed to be...what a month old? He is the size of a two year old already. That would be due to my grace. When I tell you that I’m not suitable to raise him, I mean that. There is too much danger in my life and I could not be a good father to him. That’s why I need you in my life. I need you to raise him the best you can. But I will be there right beside you helping you along the way. You can tell Charlie I am his uncle or something.

*As the other male thought about all my words, I sat there quietly and chewed on my lip. I really couldn’t think of anything else to say. Was there really anything else left after dumping all that right in his lap? I just hoped he would try to keep an open mind and consider the proposition I had offered up to him. After a few anxiety filled moments of silence, Danny stood and went over by Charlie. His finger softly pushing through his dark brown hair.*

“She carried him inside her for nine months. I can’t just leave him. He is all I have left of the woman I loved and lost.”

*And with that he picked up the little chunker and walked back over to me. The smile he offered me was a sad one. I knew he was all turmoil inside and of course he probably needed time to properly process everything we had talked about tonight. I stood to join him, pressing a soft kiss to the child’s cheek. I already love the child as well. It was something that I could not help. And it wasn’t just because I had bonded my life to his. It was something much deeper than that. But this situation would be good for all of us. As we said our goodbyes and I walked them out to the edge of the patio, I could sense someone or something watching me. Which only solidifies the reasoning behind this parental thing. Charlie would never be fully safe to be around me. Having his blood on my hands was something I would avoid to the best of my ability. And with whatever has its eyes on me right now, Charlie having another home was painful but for the best. I glanced into the woods, giving it good scan before turning to go back inside. That is when I heard something move, causing me to turn right around as I reached the door, calling out a challenge before heading back inside.*

You know where to find me if you ever find the balls to come at me.

#TBC

[weshallc]

Nonnatun Christmas Card Exchange FF 2

Since you were so kind about my first Nonnatun Christmas Card Story. I will share another.I have met some lovely people through the Exchange including Denise, who I wrote this for. Thanks to @eatapinkwafer for tirelessly correcting my punctuation and the Spanish lessons.

NOVEMBER 1962

Phyllis Crane sat on the edge of her bed. She removed her new plum court shoes. She had bought them especially for this most special of days. Today had been one of the most memorable of Phyllis’s rich and varied life. Phyllis had never been a bride, she had never even been a bridesmaid, until today.

Phyllis looked around the room she had shared for 2 years with the bride she had tended all day.The room looked bereft, empty without her-could she actually use the term, yes she could,Barbara had given her permission- without her best friend.

Phyllis changed her pinching court shoes for a much more comfortable pair of lace up granny shoes and went to join the fun of the fair. Nurse Crane intended to just watch her fellow guests enjoy the pretty Poplar carousel. Valerie Dyer however, had other ideas. After quite a struggle she persuaded the more mature nurse to mount one of the ornate horses. A few rotations later Phyllis thought she had placated her friend, but it wasn’t so, Valerie dragged Phyllis into a more dignified position, seated in a sleigh as the fairground ride began to turn once more. 

Fred was doing his best Billy Bigelow impression helping people on and off the ride. Valerie had finally had enough and Fred assisted her dismount from the carousel. Phyllis rebuffed Fred’s offer of a hand, but when she tried to negotiate the 2 large steps to the ground, realized she was quite dizzy and stumbled into the path of a young woman dressed in blue.

“Sorry!” cried Phyllis, “I am dreadfully sorry.”

“It’s alright Phyllis, I think we are all a bit giddy today.”

The familiar Welsh lilt comforted Nurse Crane, at least she hadn’t careered into a stranger. Delia Busby held onto her assailants hands very lightly, letting Phyllis regain her balance. Gratefully Phyllis looked into the young woman’s face, it was then she noticed that there were tears in those big blue eyes. Unfortunately this had become an all too familiar sight in the last few months. However, this was not the forlorn face that had given Phyllis such cause for concern of late. This Delia Busby was wearing a smile that would melt the newly falling snow.

“Are you two,alright?” The Voice was sharp but concerned. “ Those contraptions always make one feel awfully disoriented, I find.”

“I am fine Patsy and I believe so is Delia.” Phyllis and Delia dropped hands after the most gentle of squeezes. “ May I say Nurse Mount, that you are a most welcome late arrival to this wedding.”

“I hadn’t the faintest idea it was today, I am not suitably attired for the occasion, but I hope I will be forgiven?”

Phyllis studied the tall, striking figure in blue jeans, plimsolls and what to Phyllis looked like a man’s raincoat.“ You’ll do Patsy, you’ll do.”

Once the carousel had completed its last orbit and Horlicks and wedding cake had been gratefully received, Phyllis Crane was ready to turn in. On entering her room she became aware It was a lot less empty, than when she last left it. A blue suitcase stood against Barbara’s old bed. She wondered how she had not realized earlier, Valerie now occupied Patsy’s old bed and Barbara no longer had need for hers.

Phyllis removed the red carnation from her wedding suit and placed it on her Spanish dictionary, she would press it properly tomorrow. Once in bed, Phyllis weary from the excitement of the day was soon asleep. Though not for long, she was woken abruptly by a loud crash and a curse then an apology. Nurse Mount unfamiliar with negotiating her new room in the dark had fallen over her suitcase.

“ Nurse Mount, I will make an exception on this occasion, due to the nature of the day. Nurse Gilbert and myself had an understanding allowing of course for on call duties, lights out was set for 10 ‘o’clock.”

In the days that followed Patsy kept strictly to the deadline. It wasn’t Patsy’s compliance around going to bed that worried Phyllis, it was her habit of not staying there all night that concerned the older roommate.The redhead had swiftly mastered the room layout in the dark and the position of the creaky floorboard.She knew just how to leave the door just on the latch, so it opened quietly. For all her stealth, Patsy had been unsuccessful in concealing her night time excursions from her light sleeping roommate. Nurse Crane had worked to many years on call to be a sound sleeper. Phyllis couldn’t shake off a sense of foreboding each evening. She fretted that Trixie or Valerie would discover Patsy’s night time manoeuvres. Or even more catastrophically Sister Julienne or Sister Winifred or more likely a restless Sister Monica Joan almost as prone to night time wandering as Patsy.

Sister Julienne sat at her desk at the start of her mornings work. The knock on her door signalled an unscheduled visit from Nurse Crane. The nurse took a seat and took a deep breath and began her plea.

“Sister Julienne, as you will be well aware,I am not one to ask for favours or seek privileges. However I do feel it necessary to alert you to a circumstance that I can no longer completely tolerate.” 

Sister Julienne sat calmly in front of the midwife and begged her to continue.

“ I am fully aware that Nurse Franklin is acting Sister, after yourself she is the longest serving nurse at Nonnatus House. You will also be aware that I have been qualified longer than her or any of the other nurses employed here.” 

Sister Julienne stiffened slightly in her chair.

“I do not seek reward for my length of service to my chosen profession, I never have. I do though feel the time has now come, that there should be some sort of acknowledgement to my seniority both professionally and personally.” 

Sister Julienne intrigued by her colleagues comments enquired, “ In what form would you like this acknowledgement to take?”

“ I would be most appreciative if you could see fit to allocate me, my own room.”

This had not been what the nurse-in-charge had been expecting. Phyllis was fully aware that the only single room designated for the secular midwives was occupied by Nurse Busby. The Sister had felt it appropriate to allocate the young student her own room when she came to live at Nonnatus not fully recovered from her horrific accident. 

Phyllis protested that Nurse Busby was now fully recovered from her injury and that her position as a trainee midwife, no longer entitled her to the privilege of a single room.Sister Julienne was somewhat surprised at the ferocity of Nurse Crane’s arguments. Although she sympathized with the midwives position, she really could not justify asking another resident to vacate their room, just because another wanted it. 

Phyllis knew once she left the office that day, the matter would be closed forever. She had one final strategy.

“ Sister, we are not so very far apart in years. Could I be so bold as to enquire, how you would reconcile yourself with the idea of sharing a room with Sister Winifred?”

Delia Busby linked her girlfriend’s arm as they walked down the Nonnatus staircase. Patsy immediately untangled herself from her affectionate companion.

“ Oh Pat’s don’t be like that.” The rejected nurse admonished. “Trixie links me all the time, when we are out. So does Val, people think it’s more peculiar that you always push me away.”

Patsy couldn’t bear to see the hurt in her lovers beautiful eyes, she had disappointed her so much lately. Patsy grabbed Delia’s wrist and wrapped it around her forearm. A triumphant smile lit up the Welsh girls face and then disappeared almost instantly, when on hearing the office door open and shut, Patsy dropped Delia’s arm like a freshly autoclaved forcep.Nurse Crane stood by the office door, she acknowledged the pair and made for the front door. 

“ Deals, I think I must be very much mistaken, but did Phyllis just wink at you?” “ I dunno Pats, maybe something in her eye.”

The office door reopened and Sister Julienne beckoned the 2 girls Inside. The Sister-in-Charge got straight to the point.

“ It has been brought to my attention that in some quarters there seems to be a concern, regarding some of the current sleeping arrangements at Nonnatus House.”  

Delia felt Patsy stiffen, she felt herself colour slightly. The sister continued.

“Nurse Busby you were allocated a private room on your arrival here due to your need for recuperation.” Delia nodded as Sister Julienne continued.

“Due to your position here that was an unusual decision, but at the time a correct one. A senior member of staff, has now requested a single room. I would like to stress that her request does not in anyway reflect on her relationship with yourself,Nurse Mount. It is a preference based entirely on her belief that her seniority demands a certain acknowledgement.” 

Sister Julienne looked at the girls in front of her, they reminded her of two alabaster figures she was familiar with on a mantelpiece in a well visited flat in Poplar. Pale and perfectly still.

“ So Nurse Busby, the decision is yours, I will not hold any influence over you on this matter.” Delia nodded, but not quite sure at what.

“Do you need more time Nurse Busby?”

“I am not sure I follow you at the moment, Sister?”

“What I am asking you Nurse Busby is would you mind accommodating Nurse Crane by vacating your single room and moving in with Nurse Mount here?” 

She then turned to Patsy, “And would you Nurse Mount,be agreeable to sharing a room with Nurse Busby?”

As Patsy followed Phyllis’s strict instructions regarding the positioning of her personal effects in her new room, owing to her swift departure to a mother in labour. She considered the changes she had encountered at Nonnatus House since her return. The rule of Sister Ursula had ended and Sister Julienne had been reinstated back in her rightful place, so Patsy thought. Trixie had returned from South Africa and seemed happier than Patsy had ever see her with her admiring Dentist in tow. Barbara was now Mrs Hereward and the infertile Shelagh Turner was nursing a beautiful baby boy. The barmaid from the pub at the docks was now a midwife and sleeping in her old bed. Most miraculous of all, she and Delia, finally had a place of their own.

When Phyllis Crane sat on the edge of her new bed that night. She noticed that Patsy had followed her unpacking orders to the letter, as she had expected. She noticed the vase of fresh flowers on the windowsill and she noticed an edition of Garcia Lorca’s, Romancero Gitano on her nightstand. Phyllis Crane was not a lover of Spanish poetry, but she would treasure this particular volume for the rest of her days. Including the inscription,’To Our Very Good Friend’ in Spanish of course. Querida Amiga.

[let-them-laugh]

The Perfect Christmas

This is for @stilinski-martin because you deserve all the gifts in the world! Your blog is amazing, you are a lovely person and I really wish that we get to know each other better in 2018! Here is my Christmas oneshot for you! Merry Christmas! Love, Susi

It was the coldest day of the season so far and Lydia’s hands were numb with fondling the needles of every tree they passed. Her fingers were red and throbbing. “You don’t have to touch every tree.”, Stiles said, quite annoyed. They had been looking for a tree for two hours now and he had lost all feeling in his limbs. But it wasn’t any tree they were looking for. It was Lydia’s idea of the perfect tree. At first Stiles thought it was adorable, that she wanted everything to be perfect for their first Christmas in the new house. Now he regretted his decision not to bail, when Lydia told him after half an hour into the search, to go home and simply pick her up once she called. He had stayed and was profoundly unhappy with his choice. “I do have to touch every tree. The needles are its most important feature, Stiles.”, she replied, walking over to the next tree. “Uh. This one feels good.”, she exclaimed. Stiles found himself hoping against hope, that they had finally found the one.“Oh, never mind. They are too grey.”, she added. Stiles’ hope was crushed. He turned a full 360 and put his palms on his eyes in desperation. Thinking better of saying anything, that would anger her, Stiles walked to the owner instead.

The man looked at him pitiful and Stiles shrugged, sighing. “Do you, per chance, have any extra special trees, that we could look at? I would really appreciate some help.”, he whispered, looking over at Lydia, who was once again, shaking her head at a tree and moved on. The man gave him a small smile through his beard and gestured him to follow. The man led Stiles outside of the selling area and pointed at wrapped trees on the ground. “We only open these at request from customers. They are more even, but also more expensive. Would you like to see them?” Stiles nodded. Even though he wasn’t prepared to pay a huge amount for the tree, at this point he was considering everything. The salesman picked up one of the trees on the ground and headed back to his hut. He cut the wrapping open and revealed an enormous, but incredibly beautiful tree. Lydia stormed over, sensing a good pick, with her female intuition, or whatever it was. “That’s lovely, Stiles.”, she sighed, examining the tree from all angles. Stiles looked at it more intently and came to a devastating conclusion. “It’s too big. This will never fit into our living room, honey.”, he said, as he outstretched his hand, as measurement. “It will.”, she said in a fierce tone and turned to the smiling salesman, “We’re taking it.”.

A 100 dollar bill later, they heaved the tree on top of the car, securing it tightly and drove home. The house was still mostly unfurnished and loads of boxes were lying around left and right, but still, it was their house, their home, and it felt like it too. In blissful ignorance, Lydia watched Stiles struggle to get the tree through the door. He was cursing under his breath, pushing the branches through the door, making a needle-y mess in the progress. Once through the door and into the living room, Lydia commanded him to put it up next to the fireplace. He tried to put it up, and who would have guessed, Stiles thought bitterly, it was too tall. “I told you, it wouldn’t fit.”, he said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Lydia examined the situation with a tilted head. The top of the tree was squashed against the ceiling, and the trunk wasn’t even standing on the floor properly. “Hm.”, was all she had to say to this. She walked around the tree, looking it up and down, as if trying to mathematically analyze the tree’s structure, only to conclude, “It doesn’t fit, you’re right.”

Stiles threw his hands into the air, exasperated, only realizing too late, that he had let go of the tree, which crashed to the floor with a muffled thud. His hands still in the air, eyes wide, mouth open, he looked at his girlfriend, who seemed to be perfectly surprised, at this revelation. “Well,”, she went on, completely ignoring Stiles’ obvious frustration, “let’s get another one then.”, she said, an innocent smile on her face.

“No. No, no, no, no. NO.”, Stiles spat out. “You are going to cut this tree until it fits and I’m going to watch you do it!”

Lydia pouted, unhappy, but knew not to object. Stiles was on the verge of actually getting mad and she didn’t want to push it. Stiles grabbed some garden scissors and instructed her where and what to cut. “Mhm. Well on the left a bit more.”, where things her casually dropped, whilst Lydia cut branches off of the huge tree, propped against the wall. An hour later the tree was considerably smaller and ready to be properly put up. Stiles dug up the Christmas tree stand from one of the many boxes, littered across the room. They put the tree up and stood before it.

It was silent for a couple of seconds, before both of them burst out laughing. The tree was lopsided and looked more like a mistake, than an actual effort to make it look pretty. As if something had gone terribly wrong during transport. The two couldn’t contain their laughter. They had actual tears in their eyes. Once they had calmed down and looked at it again, trying to suppress their giggles, Stiles kissed Lydia on the cheek and patted her on the back lovingly. “You did a great job, honey.” At that, they lost it again.

In the end they kept the tree. After all this commitment, it felt wrong not to keep it. They came up with loving names for it, such as “The Sinking Ship” and “Stiles’ First Knitting Attempt”. They decorated it with all their heart, and in the end, it was one of the only fully functional objects in the house. Even though, it was, objectively, really ugly, that seemed to make them love it even more. It wasn’t the perfect Christmas Lydia had imagined for them in their new house, it seemed to be everything but perfect, but maybe that’s exactly why it was.

[candypainted-rogertaylor]

Merry Christmas // Jack Maynard

Requested by: @dansdimpledance​

Request: As I loved that imagine so much I’m here to request one more. A Christmas one, where you decorate the tree with one of your families and eat, open your presents (you both get each other amazing things) and just lots of love and with Jack again.

Pairing: Jack Maynard x Reader

A/N: God, I’m so sorry for not being active. It’s literally nearly been a month since Christmas but I didn’t forget you! I’ve been really stressed by school recently because the first half of the school year is over in a week and since Christmas they’ve been torturing us with homework and shit. Also I have to get an important essay ready anytime soon and have been writing on it every day. Sorry again but here’s your imagine and if you want you can request more if you want. As many as you want. ♥

You’re in the kitchen cleaning the dishes when you hear keys opening the apartment door of the Maynard/Pieters/Y/N household. Heavy breathing and weighting steps are heard in the hallway. “Love, we’re home. Got a surprise!” “Coming!” , you shout over they playing music you turned on because every work is done faster with music. You finish cleaning the dishes and open the kitchen door to get wet socks because you step directly into a trace of snow that the boys probably got in with them. You made your way after the trace, into the living room. “Seriously boys, I’ve just cleaned the whole apartment and you’re not even able to take off your shoes before you-“ , you were distracted by your boyfriend Jack and his brother Conor putting up a fir-tree. “C’mon Y/N, stop complaining and be proud of us instead, we got a bloody Christmas tree”, Conor rolled his eyes playfully, knowing how stressed you were about the fact that you would celebrate Christmas with the Maynard family the next day and had to do all the food, wrapping up presents and clean and decorate the whole flat. Because since Josh was with his family in South Africa you offered to take the work from the boys mother and be in charge of everything this year. You wanted to make a good impression, their family has met you before but you’ve never cooked for them and you just wanted everything to be perfect. You went up to them, pulled your boyfriends beanie from his head and ruffled his hair slightly before you pecked his lips shortly but full of love and relief and then gave Conor a little kiss on his cheek. “You guys are the best!”, you smiled widely while Jack blushed a light red, smiling sheepishly. “I know, we are and that’s why you guys are in charge of decorating this tree. I’ll be off filming a video with Joe. Sorry, my dears.”, Conor winked at us and went out. “Well there were only two left I guess.”, Jack giggled. “What an asshole.”, I shook my head laughing, walking out of the room, Jack following me to finally take off his shoes and jacket. I came back with 3 boxes full with beautiful silver and golden stuff to decorate the tree with fitting the decoration in the flat. You put them down on the sofa that stood close to the tree when Jack came up to you. He slung his arms around your waist and pulled you closer carefully. “I didn’t say a proper Hello yet”, he said quietly in a raspy voice. “Well hello then, handsome”, you grinned, cupping his face with your left hand while your right hand rested lazily on his chest. You caressed his cheek with your thumb as he closed the gap between the two of you kissing you passionately. You kissed back immediately and melted into the kiss. Jack smiled as he felt your enjoyment and deepened the kiss before you slowly pulled away after a time. “Got some work here, aye?”, he pointed behind you to the boxes with the tree decoration. “Ugh yeah.. little compromise; I’ll go back to the kitchen because I still have to prepare something for the food tomorrow and you start with putting the lights onto the tree. When I’m ready I come back to help you decorate the rest of the tree, okay?” “Okay, princess, hurry up, because I love some hopeless romantic, decorating the Christmas tree with my amazing girlfriend for the first time.” You giggled, “I’ll do the fastest I can. Love you, idiot”, pecked his lips and went to the kitchen again. While preparing some cooking for tomorrow you heard Jack struggling which put major smiles to your face. He was too adorable. As you were finally done, you came back to the living room just in time. Jack had put the lights on and it already looked amazing. “Good job, Sexy”, you wiggled your eyebrows. “Of course”, he said confident, “where do we start?” You laughed getting a smaller box out of one of the three you placed on the sofa. You gave it to him explaining, “These are the biggest balls, hang them onto the bottom  and always switch from golden to silver and from silver to golden again. I do the top parts instead.” He nodded taking the box and you started. You talked about everything and more while decorating until Jack kept quiet after some time. You were too concentrated not to break something so you didn’t really notice until tons of tinsel flew over your head. “Suits you. Glowing even more now”, Jack laughed while you didn’t say anything, thinking about your revenge. “Fuck off, Maynard, that was a bad decision.”, you grinned evilly, storming up to him, starting to tickle his stomach. “N-no st-stop PLEASE!”, he begged between laughers, “ I c-can’t breathe!” I stopped laughing as you put some of your tinsel around his neck, over his shoulders and onto his head . “Who cares about the tree though? We look better anyway.”, you giggled, Jack getting some tinsel out of your face. “You’re the most beautiful anyway”, he pecked your lips and hung the last ball onto the tree, now only the top star was left. He gave it you. “You should do it.”, He grinned. “But I’m too small”, you laughed. “Nothing’s impossible…”, he giggled giving you a piggy back ride so you could reach the top. You put the golden star onto the tree and finally finished your first joint Christmas tree. “Wow….”, both of you gasped as you took in your work. The tree was huge and beautiful as hell. Jack stood behind you and began hugging you from behind snuggling his head into the crook of your neck. “I’m so tired”, he whined. “Let’s go to bed then.”, you whispered and so you did. -- The next day you were up quite early, leaving Jack in bed but meeting a sleepy Conor in the kitchen. “How come to the honour to be greeted by you at this time of the day?”, you laughed about the half asleep man. “I don’t even know myself. I actually wanted to help you with the food but I’m really not made for getting up before 1pm. But please tell me what to do, I need to get properly awake”, a yawn escaping his lips. You laughed, introducing you to your masterpiece of food. Conor was a better help than you would’ve thought and everything went out pretty well. Also Jack decided to join you an hour after you left him in bed alone and started setting up the table. You wanted to get everything ready because you still had to film a video for Jacks channel so you decided to bake some Christmas cookies for the video. A horrible flour fight and cleaning the kitchen again later and you had to slowly start to get ready. You were just done as the doorbell rang. “I’m going!”, you shouted since the boys weren’t ready in time as always. You opened the door to be greeted by a warm hug by Anna who you were very close to. Jack’s mum hugged you tightly after Anna let go of you and also Jack’s dad embraced you in a lovely hug. You told them to take a seat at the table and went to get the boys. As everyone was ready you started to serve the food. Everyone was impressed by your cooking skills and enjoyed the whole meal. Everyone went over to sit on the sofa and around the tree while Jack and you brought the dishes from the table over to the kitchen. “That was amazing.”, Jack whispered, kissing your forehead. “Thank you so much”, you smiled relieved about the fact that everything went out so well. “C’mon, love birds, we finally want presents!”, Anna shouted from the living room. You giggled and took Jacks hand. You sat down on Jack’s lap on the arm chair across from the tree. You watched everyone unwrap their presents, huge smiles plastered to their faces. Everything was perfect in that moment, pure happiness and love filling the room. Jack’s head rested on your shoulder until it was only his present for you and your present for him left. You stood up to get his. It was a simple red box with a cute white bow on it. You gave it to Jack as he smiled up to you, taking it. First he noticed a little note that was embattled to the bow. “For a better Vlogmas next year”, he furrowed his eyebrows not knowing what this meant when he opened the box carefully. His eyes lit up as he saw the new vlog camera in it that he’s been talking about for ages now. “Oh my god, Y/N, this is incredible! Thank you so so much!” He quickly stood up, kissed your sleeve sweetly and went over to the tree. He held up a long but slim present bag. “This is for you my love.”, he smiled sweetly as you took the bag. You pulled out a glass bottle with a parchment roll in it. It was decorated by a red bow and a not saying “ Wanderlust”. You opened the bottle and pulled the parchment out. There was a world map on it, a red point on London and a red line leading to a red cross over an island. Underneath the map was simply written “Hawaii”. Your face lit up as you realized what was going on and slung your arms around Jack immediately. “Thank you so much!” “You’ve been telling me about how bad you want travel to Hawaii for ages now.” , he laughed, little did he know that he made you the best Christmas present ever. -- Jack’s parents and sister had left and Conor had gone to bed as you guys decided to get a little fresh air on the balcony before going to sleep. As soon as you stepped outside you began to freeze. As Jack noticed he laid his jacket over your shoulders. “My little frostbite.”, he giggled kissing your nose and embracing you in his arms. You took in the beautiful skyline of London as…. “Hey, Y/N, look up..” You looked up to your eyes meeting the sight of a mistletoe. “Cheater.”, you laughed. Jack used every opportunity to snatch a kiss from you. “Well I guess tradition is tradition.”, he shrugged confidently, leaning in. “It probably is.”, you smiled, leaning in as well. “Merry Christmas”, he mumbled sweetly against your lips before kissing you passionately.

[dailyaudiobible]

04/08/2018 DAB Transcript

Deuteronomy 32:28-52, Luke 12:35-59, Psalms 78:56-64, Proverbs 12:24

Today is the 8th day of April. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I'm Brian and it is always, always, always a pleasure and a joy to come around the global campfire together with you and all of our brothers and sisters wrapped around the world and take the next step forward in the Scriptures, And, so, as we launch into this workweek we’ll go back into the book of Deuteronomy and as I’ve been mentioning we only have a few days left in the book of Deuteronomy so we’re kind of coming to the end of the era of Moses and we’ll be doing that over the next couple of days. And right now, since we’ll be picking up in the middle of it, we’re in the middle of a song that Moses is teaching to the people. Deuteronomy 32:28-52.

Commentary:

Alright. So, in our reading from the Gospel of Luke today Jesus is essentially discussing vigilance and its importance not only toward God, but also over our own souls over our own lives. And, so, the example of a master who has gone away and servants who are left in charge is an obvious metaphor for our own lives and it's the ones who we’re waiting right, the ones who were waiting for the master to return so that they could serve him, so that everything would be ready for when he came back no matter what time of day or night and that he came back. Those were the ones that the master would actually in turn serve, but we also must be vigilant in our own lives so that we can see the present time that we’re in so that we can properly discern what's going on around us. And this can be on a cosmic scale like, where are we on the continuum of human history, but this is much more immediate. We make a lot fewer poor bad unhealthy choices when we have been vigilant enough to choose wisely in advance, right? When we’re in the heat of the moment and forced to make a critical decision, we often make the wrong decision, it often sends us down the wrong path. But if we had been vigilant, if we had been maintaining our lives, allowing our lives to shrink down to what is maintainable then we would be able to be vigilant about the choices and decisions that we have to make because we wouldn't be living from crisis to crisis, over obligation to over obligation where we always feel like were pinned against the wall. What if there were space? And what if that space is actually freedom to live? And we do this in our lives when we find things to be important enough. So, for example, you know, Jill and I have had a number of children and when it's time for the baby to come and not that there's a new baby going to be coming, we’re done with babies, we’re ready for a grandbaby, but when it's time for the baby to come there is a bag packed, it's just sitting there, nothings coming in or out of it, it's just sitting there and when the time comes you grab the bag and go, you're ready for the moment, you've been vigilant in preparing for something you know is going to come and you need to make decisions in advance because in the heat of the moment it's not the proper time. So, we know how to be vigilant we’re just invited to be vigilant about our life with God. And we can't always be prepared for His presence or be prepared to work on His behalf in the mission that He's sent us upon if our lives are so pegged to the wall, turned up to 11, so noisy that there is no space to do anything but read act. What we’re being invited into, this idea of vigilance, is that we don't have to react, we can be proactive in our lives maintaining a proper posture and a proper awareness of what's going on around us. And then we can live intentionally. And then we can live free. So, Jesus said, “a faithful, sensible servant is one to whom the master can give the responsibility of managing his other household servants and feeding them.” So, what does that look like in your life? Are we people that the master can entrust the responsibilities of managing His kingdom? If not, then there's work to do because this is what we are supposed to be growing up into and the place to start would be to be vigilant about maintaining what God has already entrusted to us. That would be the place to start.

Prayer:

Holy Spirit, we invite You into that. And we do confess, our culture and our society is all about having a life that is absolutely full of products and services that we’ve been marketed. So, we get on the hamster wheel and just start running and before You know it 20 years have gone by and we’re overextended and over obligated and we just wonder when life might begin when here in this season of Lent maybe You are inviting us to begin that life now by examining all of the things that really don't need to be in our lives, that really are not in any way drawing us closer to You or giving us any kind of freedom whatsoever. They’re just simply stealing time from us. And if our time can be stolen from us, well then that's stealing our life. So, come Holy Spirit into this, show us how to be vigilant, awake, and aware of Your movements and Your presence in our lives and what it means to the way we live that life. Maybe we don't need all of this stuff in our lives anymore. Maybe what we need is space and freedom. Come Holy Spirit and show us what that looks like to each of us in our own expression and in our own story. We love You and we trust You and we seek You and we pray these things in the name of Jesus, our Savior. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, its where you find out what's up, what’s going on around here.

We are in the process of raising a canopy of prayer over the forthcoming More Gathering for women that will be taking place in just a couple of days this…beginning this Thursday. And, so we pray over the travel of all of the women, we pray over health, over stamina, over technology, over whether, over everything and just follow the Lord's guide as your remembering and praying for your sisters who will be at the More Gathering in just a few days. And yeah, like I said yesterday, we want a bubble over that mountain where the Holy Spirit's presence is profoundly experienced and everything that would be a distraction is kept away, that's our prayer. And, so, thank you for joining your hearts in that prayer over this coming event

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that dailyaudiobible.com. There is a link and that is lives on the homepage. So, thank you, thank you profoundly for your partnership. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And of course, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for You here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hey Daily Audio Bible, it’s Kevin calling from New Hampshire. I was calling in to report a little miracle that occurred in my life recently. My sisters been homeless and has been struggling for about two years now recently she let me know that she may be getting an apartment with her boyfriend with the help of a homeless assistance program in Concord. After I heard about this I asked my girlfriend that night to pray with me for her and she agreed. Two days later I received word from my sister that a pastor had walked down to her tent in the woods and said he was sent by Jesus to tell her your life is about to get better and that things will change. This brought me to tears after hearing this and all I could think is like in the Bible when it says, two or three pray in his name he will be there. Now she’s going to be attending church with me next Sunday and I’m very happy for this. I’m just asking everyone out there to send prayers to the homeless. If they may find some good in their hearts to maybe donate to the homeless that would be helpful too but any prayers or whatever you can do I’d be grateful for that. I take time out of my day to help give to them and they have it a lot worse off most of us out there. So, yeah, I just want to report that little miracle. I think it’s amazing how quickly that happened, just came out of nowhere. So, thank you guys. Have a blessed day. Bye.

Hi, yeah, it’s Michael from London England UK. Today is Thursday, the 4th of April. Yeah, I just wanted to call in response to the woman I heard, I can’t remember what her name was but you said that you had a husband called Bob who’s got muscular dystrophy and also that he’s not a Christian but he’s at least an agnostic. And I just wanted to pray for him right now because I am also, you know, I’m an occupational therapist, I work in mental health, but I guess muscular dystrophy is, you know, a serious medical condition but an area of my training. So, Father, I pray for Bob. I pray that You would heal him from the top of his head to the tip of his toe, that You would restore him to full health and You’d stop this muscular dystrophy from taking over his health condition and reducing his life expectancy. And Father I pray ultimately for his heart, for a heart transformation, that You would use his wife to just love on him and show him how much You care for him for his relationship with his wife and that through that he would be…his heart would be openly receptive to hear how much You love him and ultimately in doing so come to church and maybe even become a Christian. And Father God I pray for that relationship Father God and I know that relationship things come a lot as well, but it’s quite difficult. And we ask that You would…that You would really help us because I…this is a prayer request for myself actually. Yeah, it’s just difficult at the moment, you know, hurting from yet another relationship. Two girls broken up with me __ for emotional stability. Yeah, and it’s a hard thing and it is difficult, and it is painful. Yeah, so I just ask for prayer in that. Okay. Speak soon. Bye.

Hi everybody, it’s Margo from Australia still in Uganda. I was going to ring up and pray but I’m actually praying for quite a few people at the moment, so I thought…I just want to let some people know that I’m praying for you. I know sometimes when you hear you name it can be encouraging and I just want you to know, Kelly from Australia struggling with sobriety. I just want to know I’m praying for you that must be such a hard battle. His little Cherry just for your daughter with the veterinary school application. Praying that she will have favor and that God’s will be done her life. Susie from Colorado, with the kids in Haiti. Gosh, that sounds really difficult. I am praying for you, that the Lord will give you the most amazing strength. Pelham and Molly, praying for you guys. Hang in there Pelham, don’t give up. Mary whose husband committed infidelity and doesn’t know what to do, I’m praying for your heart my beautiful sister. Remember how much He loves you and He see’s you. I’m praying for you. Ruben from Canada your son Micah had a medical school interview on the 23rd, I’ve been praying for that. We need Christian doctors. Amen. There was a lady who called asking for prayer for a relationship. She found something that broke her heart, needs a job to get back on her feet. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Don’t be too hard on yourself, you are human. We love you, we’re praying for you. Friend of God your brother-in-law decided he’s a woman. I’m praying for your sister and her children and for that man that the Lord would just…just work in his heart and just show him the truth and help them through this dreadful situation. That’s all I’ve got time for to say today. Love you all heaps. Bye.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible family this is Bridget from New York City. I’m calling for the woman who is struggling between her husband and the godly man. First and foremost, I just want to share with you, a godly man would not be having conversations with you on the side, hidden. Please block that person. I’m giving you this from a place of experience. Second of all, I’ve been married for 23 years and what the Lord showed me was that there was a lot of unresolved things in my heart between me and my husband and I don’t know if your husband is a Christian or not or what’s going on with him but I ended up doing…and this is after the pain…I ended up confessing all of my sin to my husband. We took a night, we went to a hotel room, and we just both sat there, and we confessed everything. We’ve been together 23 years, we both have been hurt, we’ve both been injured, we’ve both been through so much and we’ve hurt each other through the process of, you know, growing up. I’m 45 my husband’s 43 and it’s…it’s just been…after that…it’s been a beautiful ride. God has been restoring what the enemy intended to harm. So, I don’t know if this is something that you can do. What I do know is that the heart is evil as Terry says and if another man is trying to entice you or is your heart then that says that there’s stuff in your heart that needs to be broken. And, you know, come before the Lord with that and prayerfully bring it to you husband. Okay? God bless you and I pray that everything works out well. God, bless. Bye-bye.

[mattbrothersscriptwriter]

Once Upon A Time

I’d like to have a little ramble and shout into the void about a truly unique, life affirming and heartfelt movie. Not because any of this hasn’t been covered before - I’d bet my guitar case full of coins it has. Not as a review or a hot take or a think piece, though perhaps it’s a little of all of those things. But because I recently rewatched the 2007 musical drama Once (dir: John Carney) and it reminded me how much this movie makes me fucking feel… which is also the hardest thing for me to eloquently put down into words but hey, I’ll try.

Once tells the simple story of Guy (Glen Hansard), a busker in Dublin who lives with his Dad and works in his hoover repair shop. He’s a talented musician but is still living in the shadow of a long since broken relationship, something that evidently both haunts and drives him. This inner conflict has inevitably kept him stranded in the same place – possessing the skills and the ambition to transform his passion into a career but lacking the courage and the heart to truly see it through. That is until he meets Girl (Markéta Irglová), a Czech immigrant who gets by selling flowers and the Big Issue. She’s a keen pianist and the unlikely pair quickly form a unique friendship, bonding over songwriting, heartbreak and Dublin itself.

Shot for next to nothing in three weeks, it’s a film so raw (and perfectly suited to that style) that just a single step in either direction would shatter the illusion. Too glossy and the magic is somehow lost. Any more ramshackle and there probably wouldn’t be a finished film to even worry about. Cillian Murphy was supposed to play Guy but dropped out, making way for director John Carney to convince Hansard, who was already set to write the music, to take the natural next step and just play the role himself.

It’s a story that manages to exist in the moment like nothing else I’ve really seen, thanks in part to the guerrilla style production but also thanks to its immense, bittersweet heart and commitment to bottling the ‘life as it happens’ feeling. It’s how we all experience life after all and it’s only afterwards that we may look back on certain memories as feeling like scenes from a movie: those perfectly captured instances where decisions have huge consequences and it feels like some higher power is writing you into a cruel plot twist or inevitable turning point. Its one thing to physically make a movie feel so grounded but to write and perform it that way too shows a real understanding of the tone they were aiming for – and absolutely nailing in the process.

It’s a joyful movie but an effortlessly melancholy one too. Like I said, it’s bittersweet. Anyone who has ever had a dream, ever been in love or ever wished for something more, you can understand and feel all of that through one look at Hansard’s exhausted face. Avoiding saccharine movie tropes and clichés, he’s simply a bloke who rides the bus with his guitar. Who chases thieves stealing his busking money. Who exists in our world. We probably see him every day, out on the streets or hunkered away in a corner of the tube. His or her music echoing through crowds, ignored by most but probably connecting to more people than we might think.

Guy never seems more vulnerable than when he’s hiding behind a forced smile or his sad, puppy dog eyes and watching this mask of happiness slowly blossom into something genuine is where the film really hits me. It reminds us that we have to seek change – or allow change to happen to us – to move from where we are to where we want to be.

I love how Guy is a thirty something pessimist whilst Girl, despite living with just as much of an uncertain, unstable future as Guy, is a ray of sunshine in comparison. She’s a stubbornly joyful extrovert, happily striking up conversations with strangers - a comically recurring trait that rewards her with casual piano practice in the music shop, helps to secure a bank loan for the recording session AND score a reduced charge for the studio hire later on. It’s the ‘if you don’t ask, you won’t get’ mentality, utilised by someone with no ulterior motives; a real pure soul who finds happiness in what she has, not what she’s lacking.

She speaks her mind, unconcerned with any risk of social awkwardness. Her abrupt “I have to go now” way of announcing she’s leaving becomes something of a catchphrase and it works wonderfully in establishing not just the generational difference between the two characters but the cultural one as well. I really love how we first meet her in the film – when she is drawn to Guy performing his most emotionally raw song (the amazing ‘Say it to Me Now’) all alone, in the middle of the night. This exorcism of his repressed feelings, expressed only through his music, is in fierce contrast to Girl’s happy go lucky outlook and she wastes no time in probing him for the truth.

This film is one of the most genius, underplayed and natural musicals ever – essentially doing the ‘bursting into song’ thing whilst remaining firmly in reality, never quite breaking that thinly veiled fourth wall that all other musicals do. Here, it’s in a beautifully captured song-writing-on-the-fly sequence (‘Falling Slowly’) or a late night jam session between family and acquaintances (‘Gold’) or in a great sequence where Girl sings lyrics to an instrumental track given to her by Guy whilst on a walk back from the corner store to buy batteries (’If You Want Me’). It’s so relatable; from the street kids watching her go past to her fluffy slippers to the clunky portable CD player in her hand. Who hasn’t done something like that? A more traditional musical might have been tempted to convert the pedestrians to background singers, cooing harmonies over her shoulder or snapping their fingers in a dance routine through the street but this film shows that life can be full of ‘movie-adjacent’ moments and not feel cheaply earnt whilst portraying them.

This movie is something of an Irish, folksy Before Sunrise – except Guy is probably in the period of his life where he’s actually living in Before Sunset (jaded, wondering what could have been) whilst Girl is firmly in Sunrise (open to new connections, optimistic about the present). They’re on different paths and perhaps even swap roles throughout, with Guy becoming more enlightened and eager for new experiences whilst we learn that Girl is caring for a small child who is product of her past. These two never really come to any real conflict themselves. The closest they maybe get is when Guy makes an awkward, kinda sad pass at her one night – but it’s practically all forgiven and forgotten by the next day. That’s real life too and I’m glad a moment like that is addressed in the story but promptly resolved. It doesn’t need to be this instance of overly contrived setup/payoff, it’s just a misunderstanding that the characters are aware enough to acknowledge and put aside. In fact, so much of this narrative goes against the grain. Guy never gets ‘the Girl’. He chooses to chase down a woman who is probably bad for him. And Girl ends up giving her husband another shot – a character we’ve never met and have barely heard about. Again, just because we aren’t aware of a person’s backstory doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist or that we’re responsible for making any grand change to the way things pan out. Here, a kind gesture of purchasing a piano for a kindred spirit is more than enough… if a little unpractical.

So much of this movie acts as a mirror to the lives of the people making it. The struggling artist narrative is straight out of Hansard’s life, even recording the demo tape in the same studio as he once did. The ex-girlfriend who moved to London is right out of Carney’s own past. All of this helps blur the line between fact and fiction, The scene where Girl tells Guy that she loves him, unprompted and ingeniously unsubtitled, is perhaps the most quietly powerful moment in the film – because the line between performance and truth is shattered as we, like Guy AND Hansard, perhaps can’t tell who’s saying what anymore – the character or the actor. In reality, it may have been both. And it’s captured right there on screen. Lightning in a bottle.

Arguably, this film is set in the last era of when a story like this could be romantic – or at least romanticised. If it was made today, in 2018, Guy would be recording in his bedroom, uploading to Soundcloud, plugging his Patreon page and filling a Youtube account with cover songs sang directly to his webcam. There’s no doubt that the advancements in technology has added an artifice to the whole struggling artist thing and it means something very different in this day and age. Here, in the far flung days of the mid 00s, there’s no real social media presence (Myspace was sort of at its peak but was more of a Facebook precursor than the platform for music it slowly morphed into) and Guy ends the movie with a handful of CDs to show for his time in the studio. Ah physical media, how I miss thee… sometimes…

This is definitely one of those movies that is firmly lodged in my brain. Despite only having watched it twice, three times at most, I’ve had the soundtrack on rotation for ten years and the time I caught Glen Hansard himself in concert (at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire in 2015, natch) was legitimately one of the most memorable gig experiences I’ve ever been to. Everything from the setlist to the showmanship to the intimacy to the grandeur, it was just incredible. An unplugged encore starting with Say It To Me Now up on a balcony in the crowd through to Falling Slowly on piano? Woop woop! 

But I digress… this is a film that is firmly time-stamped in my memory. I watched it on the very same night that I first properly met someone who ended up becoming a huge part of my life. Nearly ten years ago to the day, me and some friends - energised by both the movie and the hazy summer evening - trekked across town to a housewarming party. This was a decision which would inevitably change the very direction of my life, which is insane when you really sit down and think about it… and being able to pinpoint the origin of such a huge personal crossroads is kinda what Once is all about so it really does resonate.

And I think this rewatch really did resonate, because I now saw myself more as the cynical, pessimistic person Guy is at the start of the film – just trying to keep on keeping on and push himself out of his comfort zone. To achieve something special or worthwhile. Without getting too personal, I can be my own worst enemy and while 2008 mostly feels more like a lifetime ago, there are times when it feels like it was just yesterday and I blinked and went from then to now in a flash. And we all have these moments. Be it meeting someone influential, deciding to move house, to travel to a new country, to quit that job and take that risk; they can be scary or freeing or even traumatic but they’re an element of life that movies strive to replicate… and this one just does so by downplaying the weight of these moments rather than draw attention to them in an artificial manner.

John Carney has said that the title of the film is in reference to other talented musicians and artists that he knew, who always said ‘once I do this and once I do that, then I’ll pursue my passion’ etc, referring to the realities (and the safety nets) of life that can sometimes stop people from taking the plunge and chasing their dreams. I’ve definitely felt the same way and have constantly had that conversation inside my own head: that once I get these things sorted then these things lined up then I’ll do such and such and how in the end, time just keeps on moving regardless… so you have to act. 

This film is about making that choice to act.