#i was like... possessed all yesterday and drew this for the entire day i kid u not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sohotthateveryonedied · 3 years

Text

Gender? In THIS Economy?

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Duke is questioning stuff and goes to Tim for advice. (feat. trans!Tim and nonbinary!Duke)

“Here you go. One Batburger with extra pickles, extra onions, and extra extra mayonnaise.” Duke drops the paper takeout bag unceremoniously into Tim’s lap. “Your taste buds need a tune-up, bro.”

Tim unwraps his burger and takes a bite. Batburger may be questionable when it comes to copyright laws, but damn if they don’t pile on the condiments better than any fast food restaurant in Gotham. “Sounds to me like you simply haven’t reached the sky-scraping level of enlightenment that I have, grasshopper.”

“Enlightenment would have been going to Red Robin and using your uniform to get a discount,” Duke says. He sits beside Tim on the rooftop’s edge, their legs dangling side by side a hundred feet above Gotham’s plunging gray streets. He digs into his own burger and makes a face. “Enlightenment would also be getting the Robin Nuggets next time. This tastes like dried leather.”

“I like it,” Tim says with a shrug. “It has personality.”

“So does raw sewage, but you don’t see me eating that.”

Tim concedes the point. His communicator buzzes in his belt. He checks the screen and discovers an alert from Cass composed entirely of clown emojis and red harlequin diamonds.

Duke notices. “Should we get that?”

Tim pockets the communicator. “Nah, Spoiler’s got it. We have time to relax.” And he’s not about to pass up quality time with the one little brother who doesn’t hate him. It’s hard enough as it is for Tim and Duke to find the time, what with them being on opposite sleeping schedules and work snatching their attention away with grabby, toddler-sized hands.

“Don’t get a lot of that during the day shift,” Duke says. “Every time an alarm goes off, it’s my business.”

Tim knocks him in the side with his elbow. “That’s what you get for turning to the light side instead of kicking it in the shadows with us. More employees to go around.” He sips his soda for a moment. “Why did you come out tonight, anyway? I thought you stayed in on weeknights.”

“Right. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” Duke says it carefully, like he’s testing the waters. “I need advice.”

Tim has to admit that his chest puffs out a little at that. It’s not often people come to him for advice when Dick and Barbara are right there, all full of adult wisdom that Tim is too pitifully shrimpy to possess. “What’s up?”

“It’s kind of...personal.”

“Yes, Bruce does have special powder for suit-chafing. It’s in the cabinet under the first-aid supplies.”

“It’s not that,” Duke says, though he snorts in half-hearted laughter. He looks down at his hands like he’s dreading the words lodged in his throat. “What was it like, realizing you were a dude?”

One of Tim’s eyebrows shoots up. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s an invasive question.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You just caught me off guard, is all.” It’s not like this is the first time someone has asked. Tim used to be uncomfortable talking about it, but he’s grown up since then. Talking about his trans journey is as normal as talking about what he did yesterday. He eats a fry. “What do you want to know?”

Duke searches Tim’s face for a sign that he’s lying, that he should back off. When he doesn’t find one, he asks, “How old were you when you figured it out?”

Tim thinks back. “Nine, I think? But even before that, it’s not like I ever really felt like a girl. I knew there was something wrong, but I didn’t know what. When I first heard about what being transgender meant, everything I’d been feeling until then clicked into place.”

“What was it like?” Duke asks, “growing up the way you did? Presenting as a girl when you knew you weren’t?”

Tim shrugs. “I don’t know. It was life at the time. I dealt with it.”

“Was it hard? Pretending to be something you weren’t?”

Tim doesn’t know what answer Duke is looking for, or why he’s so interested, but he won’t ask. “My parents always had this idea of me being the perfect daughter, all obedient and graceful and crap. I’m pretty sure their hope was to eventually marry me off to the highest bidder so they could reap the business benefits.”

“That sounds awful.”

Tim shrugs again. “I didn’t start feeling any different than I should have until around six or seven. I was always a tomboy. I liked doing boy stuff and playing sports, but my parents thought it was a phase I would grow out of. They’d make me wear dresses and go to fancy parties with them, all the while I just wanted to claw my skin off and go home.”

He remembers the nights he would lie awake in bed, imagining what it must be like to have been born someone else. Anyone else. To grow up as a little boy who was allowed to run around, to get dirty, to be himself instead of following some arbitrary guidelines someone else drew up the day he was born. He imagined what it would feel like to answer to a different name than the one he’d been given, which grated on his ears the longer time went on, like an itchy sweater he couldn’t shed. It was hell.

He gives Duke a sly grin. “But the upside of having absent parents is that there aren’t as many people watching you. No one cared if I went to school in the boy’s uniform instead of the girl’s. No one was there to stop me from cutting my hair short the way I wanted it.”

Duke's eyes widen. “You cut your own hair?”

“It went exactly the way you’re thinking. I had to go to the barber the next day and have them fix it because it was so uneven. But by the end of the day, it was the way I always imagined it. I was finally starting to look like the person I wanted to be.”

Duke stares intently at the remains of his burger as if the universe’s answers to an unspoken question were written in sesame seeds. “Did it get better after that? Did you feel...at peace?”

“‘Course not. The world wasn’t magically fixed just because I took a step in the right direction. My problems didn’t go away.” When he says that, Duke looks almost...disappointed? “But,” Tim adds, “it was better than it was before. I still had to act for my parents and the rest of the world, but I didn’t have to hide from myself anymore.”

“How did your parents react when they found out?”

Tim grimaces. “They...didn’t take it well.” He can still hear his father’s voice in his memories, bringing up therapy and camps and whatever places he could think of that would “fix” his little girl.

“But, after a while,” Tim continues, “it was clear that I wasn’t going to change my mind anytime soon. I guess they figured it would be easier to go along with it than fight me every step of the way. They still didn’t like it, but they tolerated it.”

Duke is quiet.

“Why do you ask?” Tim prods.

Duke’s expression doesn’t give anything away. It’s nights like this when Tim can see how perfectly Duke fits into this mental institution they call a family. For all that Duke thrives in the light, he keeps his cards just as close to his chest as the rest of them. He gives Tim a half-smile. “Just wondering.”

“Okay.”

They fall into weighted silence, the scales tipping on either side of their post, but never settling. Tim waits. He finishes his burger and busies himself with reorganizing the pouches in his belt, giving Duke the privacy to think.

“I don’t know,” Duke starts after several minutes, “if I’m a boy.” He looks at Tim. “I think I might be something else.”

“Okay,” Tim says calmly. “What do you feel like?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve always felt different, y’know? When I was a kid, it was because I was smarter than everyone in my class. And it was fine, because I knew what it was and how it worked and why it was a good thing, being the smart one. It made sense. Time went on, the other kids started catching up, but that mismatched feeling never went away. I never felt right in my skin.”

Duke’s face rises to the dark clouds, the Batsignal shining from the top of the police station like a holy beacon. “Then I met Batman. My powers started to come in and everything clicked into place, all at once. That was why I never felt like I fit in with everyone else, because I was different. I had powers. That must have been it.”

“But it wasn’t,” Tim guesses.

Duke shakes his head. “I thought it would be. I mean, what else could it have been, you know? It should have explained why I never felt at home in my identity. But time goes on, I learn how to use my powers, and it fixes some of it, but not everything. There’s still part of me that looks in the mirror and sees something off. Some detail out of place.”

“Do you feel like a girl?” Tim ventures to ask.

Duke folds over the corner of his straw wrapper again and again in tiny triangles. “Nah, I doubt it. I like some feminine things, but I don’t think I’m a girl. Or a guy. I think...I might be nonbinary?”

Tim does his best to channel Bruce’s “supportive dad” energy and smiles. “Okay. What pronouns do you want to use?”

“They/them, maybe? For a while?”

“Duly noted.” He puts a hand on Duke’s shoulder. “I really do appreciate you telling me.”

Duke rubs the back of their neck, their cheeks flushing. “It feels good to say out loud. Not just in my head.”

“Do you think you’re going to tell anyone else? You don’t have to if you’re not ready, but our whole family will support you.”

“Yeah.” Duke picks at their nails, nodding absently. “I know they will. I’m not worried about that.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

Duke takes a deep breath in, and Tim is reminded of a balloon close to bursting. “My parents aren’t dead. I’m going to get them back. And when I do...what are they going to think when they wake up after half a decade and find out that their son isn’t their son anymore? What if they don’t like the person they see?”

Tim can’t say that he hadn’t swum with the same thoughts years ago, back when the person who is Tim Drake was still on the drawing board. But there’s a difference between his situation and Duke’s. “Your parents love you, Duke. They’re not going to stop loving you just because you’ve grown up since they last saw you.”

“What if it’s too much? The superpowers and the crime-fighting and the new gender...it’s a lot to take in.”

“Well, sure,” Tim says. “It might take some time for them to get used to it, but this is who you are. They’re going to love it just as much as they love the rest of you.”

Duke smiles, and if their eyes are a little misty, Tim pretends not to notice.

“Besides,” he says. “If I were you, I’d just lead with the superpowers thing. Anything after that sounds perfectly acceptable.”

113 notes · View notes

hxlyhead-harpies · 4 years

Text

The Last Dream of My Soul part 1. (R.L.)

hello everyone! This is the first part of the Remus Lupin series that i’m starting and i am soooo excited. i am still new at this so any feedback is appreciated!! i hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: The very bookish (Y/n) has spent most of her life alone, aside from her best friends Lily and her beloved books. But when the infamous Marauders get thrust into her life, how could she resist the beautiful and unattainable Remus.

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 3.1k

The yellowing and rough pages of old books had always felt like home to you. The smell of the aging parchment and the worn and weathered covers had always offered you more comfort than any real person ever had. On a bad day, you’d be able to curl up in your bed, lulled to sleep by your favorite characters, and adventures more exciting than your own life. As the years pushed forward this was how your life was. You didn’t have many friends but that was okay because you had your books. Who needed a best friend when you could spend your afternoons in Narnia with the Pevensie siblings or tumble through rabbit holes with Alice? For the early years of your childhood, you were content with the reality that you wished you could be in any world than your own. Your boring, magicless, and unmysterious world.

But that all changed the year you turned eleven. You remember the day as if it were yesterday. You were laying on your bed, your legs tangled in the quilt your mother had made. A Nancy Drew book sat in front of you, the plot of which now escapes you but at this point, you had already solved the mystery yourself. It was a perfect summer afternoon. The sun was out and you could hear the other neighborhood kids shouting from outside your window. They never invited you out to play but you were okay with that; you had far more exciting things to read. You were turning a page, nearly halfway through the book, when you heard tapping from your window. Your head shot up- your reading induced trance was now broken- only to be met with the sight of a snowy owl. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. You had never seen that type of bird around here. And you had certainly never seen one clutching a letter between its talons. You carefully marked your page in your book and quickly hopped out of bed. You made your way to the window and attempted to open it, a task that proved difficult for your small eleven-year-old body. After a few moments of a struggle, you finally pried it open. The owl dropped the letter inside your room and flew off. You bent down to pick up the parchment from the floor to see that the letter was addressed to you, and was from someplace called Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

From that moment on your world had been flipped upsidedown, at least in the sense that everything now had to change. But to you, if anything, the world had finally been made right. Magic was real- and you had the pleasure of possessing it. It was like some part of you had always known that magic existed beyond the pages of your favorite books. It was as if everything finally made sense.

You dragged your family down the streets of Diagon Alley, absorbing every bit of magic culture that you could. You reveled in the lights and the feeling of warmth that coursed through your veins when you finally picked up the right wand at Ollivanders. You squealed with delight when your parents purchased you an owl and you nearly died of excitement when you realized that pictures plastered on posters in the alleys moved. And when you ran through the seemingly solid barrier at Kingscross station you thought you would pass out from the thrill. And when you got on the train you curled up by yourself in a compartment, hurriedly reading through your History of Magic textbook, attempting to soak up every bit of knowledge that you could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

During your first year at Hogwarts, you came to the slow realization that you might actually need friends. Now that you knew that magic was real you wanted to experience as much of it as you could, and it felt rather lonely to experience it all on your own. The characters in your books had always had sidekicks and best friends on their grand adventures, and being accepted into Hogwarts marked the beginning of yours. Now you just needed someone to share it with. Luckily, the pretty girl with brilliant green eyes and glowing red hair that shared your dorm had the same idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

By your fourth year, you and Lily Evans were attached at the hip. You spent nearly all your time together, inside and outside of class, and told each other absolutely everything. She knew everything about you, every detail and every secret, and you knew the same about her. Sure you had other friends, Marlene and Alice were nice and you hung around them quite often, but it was nothing like your relationship with Lily. She was the Elizabeth Bennet to your Charlotte Collins. Nobody understood you as she did, and you didn’t think you’d ever find anyone else who did.

But despite your closeness, you always felt a tinge of jealousy towards her. She was everything you weren’t: she was strong and outgoing, she felt no fear when talking to strangers, and it seemed that everyone instantly took a liking to her. Everyone loved her. She had flocks of friends, granted she wasn’t as close to any of them as she was to you, but it occasionally made you feel unimportant. It also seemed as if half of the year was in love with her. James Potter was evidence of that, constantly making a fool of himself to impress her. Lily always scoffed at him, not finding any of his antics even slightly attractive. And out loud you agreed with her that he was just a silly boy, but deep down you wished someone would give you at least a fraction of the attention that he gave her. But that was how it always went. Lily was the type of girl that boys would fall in love with. You, on the other hand, her quiet and shy sidekick, went largely unnoticed. But everything was fine. Because in moments when you felt lonely or inadequate you could turn to your books just as you did when you were young. Fingers tracing over the words of Mr. Darcy’s declaration of love or Romeo and Juliet’s final moments. And at the time, it was enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was your seventh year when things really started to change. After years of begging, Lily finally said yes to James. You were happy for her of course, she seemed to really like him. And he obviously really liked her. The way that James looked at her could only be described in the words of your favorite novels. But with her new relationship came uncharted territory: Lily now sat with him at most meals, though every few breakfasts she’d make a point to sit with you, and the spot you usually occupied next to her in the common room was now occupied by James. And the worst part was that you were now alone on Hogsmeade weekends, a time that was usually reserved for you and Lily to walk arm and arm around the small village. But despite all of this you couldn’t be mad at her. You saw how happy she was- and her happiness made you happy as well. But you couldn’t help but feel a tad jealous that she got to feel an emotion that you yearned to feel with your entire being. Love.

“(Y/n) come on!” Lily exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation. You groaned, looking up at her from the book in front of you. You were currently rereading A Tale of Two Cities, a favorite of yours that was littered with dogeared pages and underlined phrases. You made eye contact with your best friends, noticing the frustration in her eyes.

“Can you please just come eat breakfast with us?” she asked, rubbing her temple with her fingertips.

“Lils you know I want to eat breakfast with you but I don’t want to interrupt your time with James,” you replied, starting to look back down at your book.

“You’re not interrupting anything! All of his friends sit with us too!” she said desperately. When you didn’t respond to her exclamation she reached down and snatched the book from your hands.

“Lily!” you cried, sitting up and attempting to steal back your book.

“No (Y/n) I’m not giving this back until you come eat with me! I feel like I never see you anymore,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re always with James,” you responded while making another sad attempt to reclaim your novel. Lily’s face fell.

“Do you think I’m spending too much time with him? I swear I don’t mean to ignore you, I’ll stop eating meals with him and we can go to Hogsm-” she rambled, practically shoving the old book back into your hands.

“No Lily!” you shouted, cutting her off. “You’re not spending to much time with him! It seems like a perfectly acceptable time to spend around your boyfriend. I just miss you that’s all,” you said quietly. Lily’s face softened.

“Then come eat breakfast with me. I want you to get to know James better. You two are my favorite people I want you to get along,” she once again urged.

“Lily I’m not sure… I don’t really know anyone else there and you don’t have to worry I already like James plenty,” you replied.

“Just come, please! I promise that you’ll like his friends!” she practically begged. You sighed in defeat, finally giving in.

“Fine Lily,” you grumbled, standing up to gather your things.

“Yay!” Lily exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

“But, I can only promise today. If his friends suck I won’t come back,” you exclaimed sternly. Lily nodded solemnly.

“Understood.”

The two of you made your way down to the Great Hall for breakfast as Lily attempted to give you a rundown on the group of boys that you were about to meet.

“Ok so obviously you know James, he plays quidditch and is studying to become an Auror. His best friend is Sirius who, I know, has a reputation but I swear he’s no that ba-”

“Lily I know who they all are! We’ve been in the same house for the last seven years,” you said, interrupting her with a laugh. Lily rolled her eyes at you.

“Yes I know you know them but you don’t know them,” Lily replied.

“Fine fine,” you said, throwing your hands up in surrender. “Continue.”

“Thank you,” Lily smiled. “As I was saying, Sirius is not as bad as everyone makes him out to seem. Yes, he hooks up with quite a few girls but he’s actually very funny and is secretly a sweetheart. Then there’s Peter, who I’ll admit is a little odd, but he’s harmless. And finally, there’s Remus. He honestly reminds me of you: he’s quiet and he reads a lot like you do. But he’s kind of a smartass sometimes so watch out for that,” she said, finished with her rundown. By this point, the two of you had reached the great hall. Breakfast was already in full swing and the room was swarming with students. Lily grabbed your arm and led you to a spot about midway down the table. She plopped down next to James, kissing him quickly on the cheek, causing Sirius to make a fake gagging face, before pulling you down to sit next to her.

“Boys,” she said, attempting to catch the attention of all four boys.

“This is (Y/n), my best mate in the entire world, so you all better be nice to her,” Lily stated matter-o-factly. You looked up to give a meek smile to all the boys. James greeted you warmly, Sirius gave you a small nod, Peter waved excitedly, and Remus didn’t even look up at you. You frowned for a moment before Sirius smacked Remus’s arm from his spot next to him.

“Hey Moony, pay attention we have a guest,” he said jokingly before shooting you a smile. Remus’s head shot up quickly, looking from Sirius to you, locking his eyes with yours. Once he seemingly realized what was happening he shot you a quick smile. You smiled back, attempting to hide the blush that the momentary eye contact had caused. You had always found Remus attractive, but you had never been so near him before. Something about the proximity made you jittery and made your palms sweat.

“Sorry about that,” he said, lifting a book from underneath the table. He flashed the cover of the book towards you. The title, Crime and Punishment, was sprawled across the worn cover. You felt your nose crinkle, reminded of how much you disliked the book. Remus’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What? Not a fan of Dostoevsky?” he asked. You shook your head.

“I guess the plot was interesting enough but oh my Godric was it dense,” you replied with a groan. You heard Remus chuckle from his spot across from you.

“Yeah, I suppose I can see where you’re coming from. I am enjoying it so far though,” he replied. You hummed in understanding before reaching for a piece of toast.

“Oh come on Lily,” Sirius said with a grin. “I can’t believe you would bring another nerd along. We already have Remus, we don’t need another one,” he continued. You felt your face heat up, ducking your head as you bit into the piece of toast. Lily narrowed her eyes at Sirius.

“Sirius I told you to be nice,” she said before throwing a piece of her roll at him. He laughed before throwing his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry (Y/n),” he apologized. You sent him a quick nod to let him know that it was okay, before pulling out your own book. As you stared down at the pages in front of you, you missed Remus perking up in interest.

“What are you reading?” he asked, setting his book down. You looked up quickly, showing him the cover.

“A Tale of Two Cities. It’s one of my favorites,” you answered shyly. You felt Lily shift beside you before speaking.

“She’s read that book probably a million times,” she said. You rolled your eyes.

“I wouldn’t say a million times, but yes I’ve read it quite a few times,” you replied before shifting your eyes back to Remus. He let out a soft laugh.

“I’ve never read it before. I’ll have to pick a copy up when we go to Hogsmeade. One of the shops sells muggle books,” he said with a small smile.

“You can borrow mine!” you said too quickly, causing yourself to blush. He looked at you, surprised.

“Oh, uh sure. I’ll borrow it when I’m done with this,” he replied, once again holding up Crime and Punishment. You heard Lily snicker from beside you.

“Good luck trying to read one of her books,” Lily said. “There’s so much writing in the margins it’s nearly impossible to get through.” You turned to her and smacked her lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey! It’s not that bad,” you said with a slight pout.

“I don’t mind,” Remus said, causing your eyes to turn back to him. “I’ll be interested in reading your thoughts as well as the book,” he said earnestly. You felt yourself smile involuntarily. You were about to reply when James stood up suddenly.

“Damnit we’re going to be late to potions,” he exclaimed. And with that, you all gathered your things and left.

Potions was generally a subject that you were good at. You often found yourself shooting your hand up during class to answer questions and Professor Slughorn had taken a liking to you. However, you found yourself unable to pay attention to the lesson. From your seat on the far side of the room, you had caught yourself staring at Remus. He was joking around with Peter, his potions partner, and had a wide smile spread across his face. He had scars running down his face, though they didn’t make him less attractive. In fact, they only seemed to add to the allure. His hair was messy and fell into his eyes. You felt yourself sigh when he ran his finger through his hair to get it out of his face.

“(Y/n)? Are you all right?” Lily asked, startling you. You nearly jumped from your seat, hand pressed to your chest.

“Merlin Lils! You scared me,” you replied. She squinted her eyes at you.

“(Y/n)? What’s going on with you?” she asked, scanning your face.

“Nothing!” you swore, stealing another quick glance at Remus. That was when the realization hit her. A teasing smile quickly spread it’s way across Lily’s face.

“Oh my goodness you fancy Remus don’t you?” she inquired, making your eyes widen and face flush. You pushed her shoulder lightly.

“Lily hush! And no I don’t!” you exclaimed as you glanced around the room to make sure that no one had heard her.

“Oh, you totally do! All that book talk this morning must’ve really got to you huh,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at you. You put your head in your hands and groaned.

“Shut up Lily!”

“Only when you admit it,” she responded.

“Fine! But you can’t tell anybody! Not even James,” you warned. Lily grinned from beside you.

“Oh, this is perfect! The two of you are perfect for each other!” she exclaimed.

“Lily! Just be quiet. It’s not like it’s ever going to happen,” you said. Lily looked at you, confusion was written all over her face.

“What do you mean it’s never going to happen?” she asked. You sighed, glancing at Remus once again. He was stirring the potion in front of him, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Lily why would he ever like me?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” she replied, clearly exasperated. You turned to her, giving her an incredulous look.

“We have seven years of evidence that boys don’t like me,” you respond. Lily rolled her eyes beside you.

“Well, this is different trust me,” Lily responded. You stare at her.

“How could this possibly be any different?”

“Because you could actually talk to Remus, get to know him He’ll obviously fancy you once he learns more about you.” Then it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“Lily, it’s never going to happen so just drop it,” you responded. You picked up the recipe for the potion that you were assigned to make that day.

“Now, can you please hand me the adder’s fork,” you said, listing off the first ingredient. Lily sighed.

“Fine. But we’ll be talking about this later.”

389 notes · View notes

halfway-happyyy · 4 years

Text

The Autumn Cottage

Happy Saturday friends! Autumn has arrived in full force where I live and I couldn’t be happier about it. To celebrate, I have written a sappy, smutty piece inspired by the current weather and this ask that I received: Can u give us a oneshot about a snuggle fuck w alex in a cozy cottage in the fall?

One of the greater joys in her life had to have been waking up to autumn's fickle fingers trying to desperately to reach her from the comfort of her woolen blanket. She watched, sleepy and bleary-eyed as leaves in shades of crimson and burnt umber drifted past her window in no particular direction. Her fingers roamed over the left side of the bed in search of him. Alexander's silhouette was barely visible through the indigo morning light, though she could make out the prominent line of his nose, and the slight curve of his bottom lip. Unmistakable in the minimal glow of dawn was the familiar glitter in his eyes, the glint that said so much about him and then nothing at all in equal measure.

“Good morning.” She whispered, and even that felt like too mighty of a disturbance in the stillness of their bedroom in the cottage. Though if he minded, he never let it show.

“Good morning yourself, kid.”

She reached the tip of a finger towards him wordlessly and brushed a feather-light touch down the bridge of his nose. Moving lower, she outlined his lips and grinned into the air before her as she felt him smile against her touch. She moved around his face with care, tried to memorize each delicate crease and wrinkle in her wake, tried to commit to memory the aspects that he resented about himself, even if she loved them beyond measure.

“Beautiful,” Alexander murmured as he brought the back her wrist to his lips, kissing the soft flesh there passionately. He brushed the pad of a calloused thumb over the rounded curve of her warmed cheek. “Like watching a flower bloom right before my very eyes.” They stayed like that for longer than either of them cared to admit; she could count on one hand in the past year that she had spent a weekend with him like this- alone and entirely undisturbed from anything and everything. He had broached the subject of a rented cottage in passing one morning a few weeks ago. It was one of those mornings where something had gone awry at every turn, and everything had been a blur. He had been late for something important, that much she could remember. He had rushed around the kitchen in a fury, muted Swedish curse words coloured every second sentence. He was out of breath when he reached the front door, weighed down by his leather laptop bag, but before he left, he turned to her and smiled. “Let’s get away together, kid.” She had taken it with a grain of salt until he returned home that evening, tired from a rather long shooting schedule, but in a fantastic mood all the same. “I mean it. It’s about to be a beautiful autumn. Let’s get away, just the two of us.”

“Shall I make you a coffee, or are we just going to lay in bed and stare at each other all day?” She offered him a cheeky smile and an exaggerated eye-wiggle which he simply laughed at.

“I have half a mind to choose the latter option, but I really do need some caffeine this morning.”

She nodded finitely and leaned in for a kiss, the innate push and pull of it caused a fire to ignite deep within her for him. She could easily spend the rest of her life doing this very thing; loving him fiercely and being loved back just as hard in return. “Alright,” She gasped as she pulled away from the allure of his hot, wet mouth. “Meet me in the kitchen.” She rose from the bed silently and padded over to her suitcase that was propped up on a wicker chair in the corner of the room. She noticed Alexander’s cream Sherpa sweater hanging over the arm of it and she ran a fingertip over the unbelievably soft material.

Alexander must have been watching her because when he spoke, his voice still gravelly from recent sleep, he startled her. “I’d be happy if you wore that, today.”

“You would?” She had been eyeing it ever since he’d brought it home from a shoot a month ago. She longed to wrap it around her frame, the sheer feeling of it luxe and utterly comforting on her bare skin. Especially as the months would inevitably grow colder.

“Watching you wear my clothing does something for me, kid. I love seeing how happy it makes you.”

With a small smile, she lifted the sweater over her head and let it fall into place on her body, the hem of it falling just above her knee. She pulled her hair from the confines of it and let it fall in waves down her back. “How do I look?” She asked.

“Beautiful,” Alexander murmured.

Satisfied with his answer, she made her way down the hardwood-floored hallway to the kitchen. She had thought at first that the silence of the cottage would be too loud; that city life had turned her into a creature who thought she craved noise on a near-constant level. But to her pleasant surprise, it had taken less than twenty-four hours to grow accustomed to it, and she knew now that she would miss it dearly when it was their time to go home. Eliciting a yawn, she stood on tiptoes and tried to remember which cupboard Alexander had hidden the coffee beans. Without warning, a large hand reached up above her head with ease and produced the bag for her with a sly smile. “I’d have found them eventually…” She muttered.

“Oh, I have no doubt of that. But- would you have been able to reach them?”

She shook her head and let out a small laugh. “Cheeky, vertically-adept bastard.”

They made their coffee together in silence. It had been one of the many things that drew him to her in the beginning. Where conversation seemed forced with every prospective partner and lover in the past- everything flowed the way it was supposed to with Alexander. There had never been a need to fill the quiet with empty words and small talk. It was a wonderful change of pace. “You hungry yet, kid?”

She remembered the basket of farm-fresh eggs in the fridge, thought of the loaf of homemade bread next to the coffee machine and her mouth watered tantalizingly. “I could definitely eat.” She watched him move around the kitchen with ease; watched the way his worn sweatpants hung low from the edges of his hips. She watched the way his muscles flexed in the light pouring in through the stained-glass window above the sink. She had always been struck silly by the beauty that this man possessed; but the notion that his soul bested his looks would never cease to leave her in utter awe. “What have you got on the go today?” She asked, a fork full of fluffy scrambled eggs rested in her hand.

Alexander passed a napkin over his lips, swallowed the bite of food in his mouth and shrugged. “Thought I might chop some wood for a fire tonight.”

She could hardly contemplate it now; the thought of watching her man hulk through multiple logs of wood caused her to physically clench her thighs together. “You plan on doing that soon?”

“After breakfast.” He confirmed.

True to his word, after the last dish had been washed and dried and properly put away, he stalked over to the coat hook in the front foyer and threw a sweater over his naked chest. Turning to her, he eyed her up and down and cocked his head to the side; a small smirk pulled at the edges of his lips. “Care to keep me company?”

Reaching for a blanket and the book that she had started yesterday morning, she nodded her head. “Lead the way.”

It was warmer outside than she had originally anticipated, though the autumn wind had picked up a little more voraciously, and she marveled at the falling leaves the same way she had earlier that morning. The sky above her was cloudless and a bright azure blue and she found herself thanking a higher being for the blessings in which she had been given. Opening the book to the page she had last left off on, the sound of an axe ripping through the middle of a log rang out through the clearing and she knew then that she would not be getting any further reading done this morning. Instead, she watched in awe as Alexander lifted the axe high above his head and brought it down with a force she had rarely seen before, the log splitting into two pieces and falling away from the stump. It was poetry in motion, really. Alexander’s hair was the longest she had ever seen it; the sandy blonde tresses were grown out and regularly fell over his eyes but she reveled in it. Of the many years that they had known each other, he had always kept a mostly clean-shaven face but quarantine, and the filming of a particularly brutal Viking revenge drama had rendered him more manlier and distinguished than she had ever thought possible. “You are fulfilling lumberjack fantasies for me that I never knew I had!” She called out to him.

Alexander tossed his head back, a hearty laughter bubbled up from the back of his throat and exited his mouth like music from a box. “You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to yourself, kid. I see the way you look at me when I put on my old and holey plaid jacket.” He took a break from chopping wood to wipe the sweat from his brow. “To add to this- you also purchased me a very expensive axe a few years ago for my birthday.”

“Guilty,” She muttered under her breath.

“But rest assured I am elated that this-” He gestured to himself. “Does it for you.”

The morning continued on in much the same fashion until maybe an hour or two later when Alexander joined her from her perch on the wrap-around porch. Falling into a bench opposite her, he took a few moments to try and regain his breath again. Beads of sweat gathered at the base of his forehead and his broad chest heaved under the weight of recent physical duress. They each viewed each other with a hunger usually only attained after seeing one another for the first time in months. “Come here.” He ordered, softly. She rose from her spot without hesitation and sauntered over to where he sat. He pat the front of his thigh twice, a silent instruction for her to have a seat. She straddled his lap with ease and wrapped her arms around his neck; the heady scent of his perspiration and body wash made her lightheaded with want. It took every ounce of self-control not to grind shamelessly down on his steadily growing erection. As he held her tightly to him, his warm, broad hands rubbed reassuring circles into her back. She shivered into the touch as Alexander kissed his way up the side of her neck, his mouth leaving trails of fire in its wake. “You cold, kid?”

“No.”

He kissed his way up the base of her throat, past the jutting outline of her jaw, and finally to her lips. His mouth still tasted faintly of the maple syrup he had poured over his pancakes hours earlier and the urge to devour everything he had to give her was overwhelming. “You like me like this, don’t you?” He smirked. “All sweaty and dirty from working hard and chopping wood for us?”

“Yes.” Her eyes slid shut and her head fell back as he continued kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. All the while his hands roamed greedily over her sweater-clad body, squeezing, and rubbing as they traversed.

“You want me to take you right here, baby girl?” His voice grew gravelly again, though it had nothing to do with sleep this time. “I don’t even have to touch you to know that you’re already soaked for me.” The wind had picked up again and had begun to blow her hair around her face, the cool breeze a welcome reprieve to her heated body. Alexander was fully erect now, his hard cock throbbed tantalizingly at her thigh. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and lifted the hem of the sweater to reveal her panties, and the wet patch that had grown steadily in the crotch of them. Alexander reached for her and slid two fingers past the flimsy material to her soaking folds. Immediately she leaned towards him to tuck her face into the crook of his neck, but he stopped her with a soft click of his tongue. “I want to see your face when you come for me, baby.” He brought a free hand up to caress her cheek, and as he held her, he brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. She parted for him without thought and began to suckle softly at it as his other hand started to delve deeper inside of her. He had perfected a rhythm with her now; one that no matter how many times he had pleasured her, would always be the fastest way to get her unravelling for him.

“More,” She gasped when two fingers just wasn’t enough anymore. Alexander nodded wordlessly, his gaze searching her own. He added a third finger inside of her, the stretch of it almost too much to bear.

“So fucking wet for me, baby.” He groaned, as he began to pump harder into her. He could feel her clench around him, could feel the soft, wet button of pleasure at the tips of his fingers. She sucked harder at his thumb the closer she neared to her orgasm. “You’re going to come for me soon, I can tell…” He murmured as she started to ride his fingers. “And don’t you dare be quiet about it.” He warned.

These words had helped to spur the wave of pleasure building in her belly and she arched her back against his fingers, her nails digging miniscule crescent shapes into the soft skin of his shoulder blades. “Fucking hell, Alex…”

He nodded up at her. “You look so fucking beautiful like this, my queen. That’s a good girl. Come for me,” He then angled his fingers in such a way that he had her screaming his name into the wind before them, her voice raw with unbridled pleasure. She continued to ride his fingers until she came down from her high, dropping her head to rest in the warm comfort of his neck. She couldn’t be sure how long she had taken solace there, but he eventually patted her bottom. “You came so good for me.” He pressed warm, wet kisses against her temple.

Taking his chin firmly in her grasp, she gazed at him. Unending vast oceans of blue peered back at her and took her breath away. “It’s your turn.” She crashed her lips against his again, the need to have him inside of her entirely all-consuming. He lifted her up in one fell swoop, standing tall from the bench as she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep from falling. He carried her into the warmth of the cottage, stumbling down the length of the hallway to their bedroom where he laid her as gently as he could manage, on the bed. He made impressively quick time of ridding himself of his clothing, and as he stood before her, naked and unbearably erect, she realized that she genuinely loved the man before her. It had occurred to her before that she felt this way, but she could honestly say that no matter what they would go through together, no matter the pain he would put her through in future, she loved him deeper than she had ever loved anyone before. “Come here,” She insisted.

Alexander crawled up the length of the bed, holding her head in his hands as he did so. He entered her all-consuming heat with a loud groan, the feeling of him stretching her to maximum fullness was incomparable to any pleasure she had experienced before. Having him inside of her was a comfort that she never knew she needed until it had happened. As he moved inside of her, his head dropped to her shoulder where he scattered dozens of open-mouthed kisses to the skin there. She held him tightly to her as he bucked his hips against her, his cock managing to hit all of the essential nerves each time he bottomed out. He was muttering nonsensical things now, random pieces of Swedish and English found her ears and she smiled into their embrace. She clenched around him after every other thrust, and soon his movements had grown sloppy. “Fuck,” He growled as her fingernails raked through the soft, firm skin of his broad back.

“You feel so fucking good, Alex.” She gasped against his bearded cheek.

He cried out as his hips stilled against her own and she could feel the familiar throb of his cock as he spilled everything he had to give, inside of her. He allowed himself a few more powerless thrusts, and another low whimper before he pulled out of her completely. She found his sudden absence almost painful. They remained like that for an unknowable amount of time, each just trying to catch the breath that they had lost a while ago. Eventually Alexander turned on his side to view her, bringing the back of her hand to his lips and kissing it gently. “I love you, kid.”

A crimson leaf lay next to his head on the down pillow, and she smiled softly to herself. “I love you too, Alex.”

#alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard imagine #alexander skarsgard oneshot #smut #writing #drabble

215 notes · View notes

recurring-polynya · 3 years

Note

Love your writing! Renruki prompt: Married!RenRuki get into a fight and Renji's acting all gloomy when he goes to work the next day. He accidentally~ shares his woes with Byakuya.

Ahhh, I am not good at writing fights!! I think I am on the record as to saying that I think Renji and Rukia only fight over stupid shit, and I had a heck of a time figuring out something for them to fight over. Anyway, I did my best, at very least, this contains a lot of Byakuya Being Byakuya.

💔 💔 💔

“I think it’s in here, sir,” Third Seat Yuki explained, leading Byakuya into the Officer’s Lounge. “On second thought, you wait out here, I’ll bring it.”

Sixth Seat Taniguchi was sprawled on the floor, groaning. Rikichi stepped over him, and looked around. Fifth Seat Kuchiki had his leg propped up on a table, a bag of ice on his knee. Seventh Seat Shirogane and Fourth Seat Kuchiki were leaning against each other on the couch, snoring in unison. Rikichi picked his way toward the couch and poked Shirogane in the arm. “Hey! Hey, Shirogane! What happened to the training reports on the first-years?”

“Eh?” Shirogane asked, sitting up. “Training reports, right.” She shoved Kuchiki to one side, and extracted a thick binder, bristling with colored tabs from the depths of the couch. It was barely in Yuki’s hand before she was slumped against Kuchiki again.

“Found it!” Rikichi announced cheerfully, waving the binder and picking his way carefully back out.

“What… happened?” Byakuya asked gingerly. “It is not usually like this, is it?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Rikichi replied. “There was sparring after morning drills.”

“Everyone must have had an excess of enthusiasm, to have worn each other out so,” Byakuya observed. He was a bit sorry to have missed it. A spirited affray sounded much more entertaining than the interminable breakfast meeting with Lord Noragashi he had endured.

“Er, not exactly,” Rikichi excused, rubbing the back of his neck. “When I said ‘sparring’, what I meant was, ‘Vice-Captain made everyone fight him.’ He was in a bit of a mood this morning.”

“I... see,” Byakuya drew out. It had been quite some time since Abarai had felt the need to pummel his way through the top ranks. Byakuya had hoped it was a sign that the top officers were improving, but apparently, it had just been the recent improvement in his lieutenant’s disposition. Disappointing. “Any indication as to what precipitated this sudden bout of pugnacity?”

Rikichi paused and glanced around. “I think he might have had a tiff with the missus,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Byakuya arched an eyebrow.

💔 💔 💔

Byakuya pretended to be deeply engaged by the newest edition of the Standards for Disposition of Historically Significant Hauntings while taking occasionally surreptitious glances at his adjutant. He needn’t have bothered with the covertness, Abarai was clearly too tightly wrapped up in his own misery to have any sort of situational awareness.

The thunderstorm of ire that had possessed the man earlier had passed, leaving behind a drizzle of gloomy resignation. Abarai had dragged his brush half-heartedly across his paperwork for a while, but now all he could manage was to stare out the window listlessly.

Byakuya was not a nosy man and clearly, this was none of his business. In fact, he ought to chide his subordinate for this childlike behavior. However, Byakuya hesitated. This could very well be pertinent to his sister’s happiness. Now that Rukia no longer resided with him, how was he to know her daily mood, her overall humor? If there had been a row, surely Abarai was the one at fault. It was practically Byakuya’s duty as a brother to discern what had passed between them.

“Lieutenant,” he said sternly.

Renji seemed to come to himself suddenly, and straightened in his seat. “Yessir!”

“You seem out of sorts this morning.”

Abarai swallowed. “Sorry, sir! I don’t… I’ll do better, sir!”

Byakuya folded his hands. “Obviously, I expect only the strictest of professionalism from you, as always, Lieutenant, but you know that I care for your well-being. We are family now. If you have a problem you wish to talk through, you know that I am an excellent listener.”

Abarai’s face was overcome with what was obviously great emotion at this generosity. “Er… it’s nothing, sir. Really.” He grabbed his brush and began writing with great vigor.

Curses. That hadn’t worked at all. “Rukia is in good health, I trust? All is proceeding accordingly?” Perhaps there had been a disagreement regarding their pending offspring. Perhaps Abarai had suggested a ridiculous given name, which Rukia, in her wisdom, had rejected.

Abarai’s eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, yeah. Same as, uh, yesterday, when you asked.”

“You seemed distressed. I wondered if perhaps she had fallen ill.”

“Oh, no, nothin’ like that. She’s actually been feelin’ a little better lately.” He fiddled with his brush and looked back down at his paperwork for a moment. “Look, sir, can I ask your opinion on something?”

“Of course,” Byakuya replied, carefully keeping his face in its usual, disinterested mien, despite the fact that he was, in fact, very interested.

Abarai nodded slowly. “Okay, so, imagine there’s two people, see, a boy and a girl, kids like.”

“I can imagine it.”

“And they grow up together and they fall in love, right? But it’s hard for them to tell each other that, because they’ve been friends a long time. And they drift apart, it’s not looking good for either of them, but then the boy writes the girl a poem. It’s not a very good poem, it’s about how tall he’s gotten, not a great call on his part, but the girl goes for it, and she writes this lucky bastard a poem back.”

Byakuya nodded slowly. As usual, Abarai’s storytelling was circuitous and only dubiously coherent. Byakuya was familiar with the basics of Rukia and Renji’s courtship, although he hadn’t known poetry had played such a key role. He found that rather charming, actually.

“It works out,” Abarai continued on, “and they get married. Now, this woman is basically perfect. She’s beautiful, loyal, loving, the whole package. On the other hand, the guy is a real piece of work. He clearly does not deserve her.”

“I am following,” Byakuya nodded.

“So he’s a huge jerk, he doesn’t know what he’s got, and he cheats on her.”

Wait, what? “Excuse me?” Byakuya echoed.

“It doesn’t make any sense, but that’s what you get for marrying a guy who writes you a poem, I guess. He’s such a scumbag, in fact, that he thinks she’s cheating on him, too, just because she never calls him on this really obvious affair, and that’s how the slimeball mind works, I ‘spose.”

Byakuya tried to perform some mental math. Abarai had only been married to his sister for five months. How had he possibly had time to accomplish all this? Byakuya was beginning to think this was not actually an autobiographical story, in which case why was he telling it?

Abarai was waving his hands around enthusiastically at this point. “So he spies on her, trying to catch him in the act, and get this-- all he catches her doing is writing a poem about how she hopes he’s staying safe while gallivanting around with this other lady! I just bet he felt bad!”

All of this was beginning to sound vaguely familiar. Byakuya squeezed his eyes shut, trying to place this story in its proper context.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, this guy is a sleaze. I am not defending this guy in any way. But it’s not really about him, see? It’s about the lady, and the purity of her love for him--”

Byakuya gripped his head. “Abarai, this is just the plot of Izutsu, isn’t it? The noh play?”

“Oh, you’ve seen it?” Abarai asked. “We went on Wednesday, and I thought we both enjoyed it, but then yesterday, Rukia asked my opinion on it, and I gave it to her, and, uh, a big fight happened.”

“Of course I have seen it, it is one of the classical noh dramas! And Ariwara no Narihira is one of the Six Poetic Genius, he is not ‘a sleaze.’” Byakuya paused. “Rukia had strong opinions on it?”

“The strongest of opinions. She said the lady was dumb for pining over a shi-- poet, and that someone should have konsoued her in the first act. And I think she just really missed the point, I mean, it’s noh, it’s not like anyone’s here for a good time, how are you supposed to have any heartfelt songs about suffering in love if you ain’t got any suffering, am I right?”

Although one would never be able to tell from his facial expression, Byakuya found this entire shaggy dog story interesting on a number of levels. For one, every time he had ever taken Rukia to noh and asked her opinion of it, she had replied that the costumes had been very beautiful or that the dancers had been very skilled. She had never once expressed an opinion on the content. Reason number two was that Hisana had very strong opinions on the content of noh dramas. In fact, Hisana used to refer to Izutsu as the ‘Never Trust a Poet’ play. Byakuya very distinctly remembered her opining that “the husband was bad and he should feel bad; he should be the one who has to come back and haunt the damn well.” Byakuya eventually came to realize that Hisana’s complaints were primarily a ruse for the purpose of getting him riled up, and that the best way of short-circuiting them was merely to start kissing her and then to get riled up in a different way. He would give up his sword before he shared that piece of information with Abarai. The third interesting piece of information, though…

“I would not have expected you to take theater criticism so personally, Lieutenant,” Byakuya observed mildly.

Renji opened his mouth and then closed it again. “It’s just a dumb play,” he muttered.

Byakuya minutely adjusted the position of a paper on his desk. “Art is a reflection of our strongest emotions and a chance to explore the boundaries of concepts like love and forgiveness. It can be quite disconcerting to find yourself on the opposite side of a philosophical divide from the one person in your life whose opinions on romantic love are actually pertinent to you.”

“I just don’t understand why she’s mad at me!” Abarai lamented, throwing up his hands. “I liked the play, she’s one who said it was dumb. I don’t see how you can get mad at someone for liking a thing.”

Byakuya sighed, and reminded himself for the millionth time that Abarai had spent his formative years literally headbutting the humanoid mountain goats of the Eleventh instead of metaphorically headbutting an equally stubborn classical literature tutor. “Clearly, you find ongoing devotion in the face of obstacles to be an admirable quality, and were moved by the wife’s pining, which is, broadly speaking, the main theme of the play. However, consider the perspective of the one who is pined after, presented in this piece as a flawed idol, a cause of agony and suffering so severe that it persists past the confines of mortal existence.”

“Oh,” replied Abarai. There was a long pause. “Oh.” His face transitioned through a number of contortions, but not further words came forth.

Byakuya picked up the Standards for Disposition of Historically Significant Hauntings again, and pretended to flip through it. “Do you need to take an early lunch break today, Lieutenant?”

“Um, ah…” Abarai looked at his calendar. “I got Advanced Hakuda Skills with the upper seats at 11.”

“I don’t think they’re up for it today,” Byakuya noted dryly. “Go ahead.”

Abarai scrammed.

#my writing #this is the last of the OLD old drabble prompts!!!#i still have two medium old ones to go #but i am hereby declaring renji's birthday CLEARED #this is VERY REALISTIC #by which i mean it is slightly autobiographical #except in my case it was over a kdrama #jeez i did SIGNIFICANT RESEARCH for this #these drabbles are supposed to be LOW EFFORT #but I have NO CHILL #i have never actually seen izutsu #noh stans please do not get up in my mentions #i mean i am sure i deserve it #but please i am so small and tired #also 'never trust a poet' is from a very old youtube video where bjork explains how computers work #i think about that video at least once a week

22 notes · View notes

melan-cauli · 3 years

Text

Questions

1. What was the name of the first person you ever had a crush on? Why did you like them?

I was in kindergarten and his name was Eddy. I liked him because our cubbies were next to each other. haha.

2. What is one thing you regret having done or not done in your life?

I try not to regret things, but I feel like I regret times where I wasn’t the best friend to people-- when I let my mental health take over and isolate me, causing me to ghost some people I cared about.

3. Which parent do you identify with the most?

My mom, definitely. I love her with my entire being (not to mention I don’t have a great relationship with my dad), but even beside that, I have a lot of her mannerisms and her exact sense of humor.

4. What do you think you cook or bake the best?

I am not big on cooking or baking; it’s just not something I have a lot of skill and practice in. I am good at making banana bread and taco dip!

5. If you could change your first name what would it be?

I really don’t know if I would change my name, but maybe I would choose something that allowed for more nicknames, like Charlotte.

6. Can you hula hoop?

I haven’t in a long time, but yes I can... and now I want to go hula-hoop, haha.

7. What embarrasses you the most in front of other people?

I am so beyond easily embarrassed, but it really all comes down to talking. I feel like I am not very eloquent, so when I ramble often or misspeak, I get really down on myself and assume everyone has become mad at me or thinks I am stupid.

8. Have you considered running for president?

Not in any serious manner, no. I don’t think I would have the right stamina and energy for it. I have strong beliefs, but as I mentioned before, I get embarrassed just by speaking and I would get so frustrated trying to debate people who cannot articulate ideas well or who refuse to listen.

9. If you had to choose one thing you were most passionate about, what would it be and why?

Writing. It is the one thing in my life that I have ever felt confident in, and I have been drawn to it since I was just a little kid. There is nothing about writing that I don’t love, and it is the easiest way for me to communicate in both a straight-forward manner and a creative one.

10. Who are you most envious of—real or fictional—and why?

I don’t really have particular people that I envy. I suppose I just envy people who have got control of their mental health issues and who can articulate it in a healthy manner, but that is something I am getting better at and working toward!

11. Where is the most beautiful place on earth and why?

That’s a really hard question-- as beauty is subjective and there are soooo many gorgeous places. I would personally say Germany. I say that because of its history, architecture, art, landscape, etc. I just kind of love the idea of the country, and I would love to visit one day.

12. Are ghosts real?

I am a firm believer in ghosts. Yes.

13. Are aliens real?

100% I think it is naïve to believe that there is no other life form out there when our galaxy is so vast.

14. How old is the most expired item in your fridge?

They are no longer in my fridge, but my strawberries went bad yesterday... Sadly.

15. What are your favorite style of underwear?

Hipster!

16. What’s the saddest song you’ve ever heard?

There are so many, but the first one that came to mind was Hyperballad by Whitley (originally by Bjork)

17. How about the sweetest song?

Metaphors by Keaton Henson

18. Do you know how to play dominoes?

I have no idea. I have always owned dominoes, and my grandparents played, but I was never taught.

19. What’s under your bed?

A cat toy in the shape of an avocado

20. Have you ever prank called someone?

So many times. It was my friends and my favorite pastime growing up. It was all always friendly and just ridiculous.

21. 100 kittens or 3 baby sloths?

100 Kittens. I love little baby cats, and cats in general-- they are so sweet and snuggly. I miss when my family cat had kittens; they were so fun to take care of.

22. Are you proud of what you’re doing with your heart and time right now?

I’m trying to be. I am trying to acknowledge my successes and be proud of my progress.

23. Why or why not?

I have a good job in my field, I have dedicated all my time to working on my mental health, and I am trying to put myself first for once, so I am trying to acknowledge the good in all of that. It’s just always been hard for me to do so.

24. How many bones have you broken?

None (knock on wood)

25. Have you ever won anything? Big or small?

I won third place in state-wide writing competition in the third grade, and a Student Writing Award in college.

26. If you could buy one material thing, and money was not an issue, what would it be?

A house. I just want a place that is all my own-- it doesn’t have to be big or anything, I just want to own my dwelling.

27. What’s your favorite movie from your childhood?

I would say Ever After (even though Forrest Gump is my favorite movie and has been since childhood). I just have so many memories with my mom watching that movie, and I love Drew Barrymore.

28. What food will you absolutely not, under any circumstances, eat?

Oysters. No way in hell.

29. What’s the best way to comfort you when you’re having a really terrible day?

Take me on a long car ride and just let me stare out the window.

30. Has anything/anyone ever saved your life before?

Not in a dramatic way, but yes, plenty of people have through different emotional ways.

31. Would you ever adopt a child?

I don’t want children, but I have never been opposed to adopting. I used to want to adopt when I was younger and thought I wanted kids, actually.

32. What is one thing you’re embarrassed to admit you want to try?

Learning to roller skate

33. If you were a cake which cake would you be?

Cheesecake! Not everyone’s taste, but still delicious.

34. What is the most important material possession you have and why?

I am not super attached to material items, but probably my over-shirt that use to belong to my grandmother; it is one thing I own that has deep-rooted sentimental value.

35. What is the most important memory you have and why?

I think most memories are of equal importance, but one of my favorites is of when my cousins and I used to get together in the fall and do yard work for my grandma. They were long days, but everyone was happy, we were together, we had good food, and my family members weren’t sick...

36. When was the last time you cried?

Thursday

37. How old was your mother when she had you?

She was 31

38. Which famous person would you like to be BFFs with?

I think I would mesh really well with Julien Baker

39. Is there something you wish you had said sorry for but never did?

Over the years, I have actually reached out to the people I thought I needed to apologize to, so I have made my peace with all of this.

40. Have you been on your first date? If so, how did it go?

I have been. It was nice and outdoorsy, but it was also a bit awkward because we didn’t know what to talk about most of the time (and the memory was spoiled a day or two after)...

questions credited to @itakesurveys

#questions #answers #ask #about me #me #personal #julien baker #forrest gump #ever after #keaton henson

3 notes · View notes

gdwessel · 3 years

Text

Full Wrestling Dontaku Cards Announced: Ospreay v. Shingo on 5/4 For IWGP World; Okada Challenges For World Title At Wrestle Grand Slam in Tokyo Dome 5/29; Moxley Calls Out Nagata

Earlier today, the full cards for the Wrestling Dontaku cycle of shows, including the full Road to Wrestling Dontaku tour and the 2-nights of both Wrestling Dontaku and Wrestling Satsuma no Kuni were revealed. The full listings will be posted later this week in an Upcoming NJPW Events post.

Will Ospreay, as new IWGP World Heavyweight Champion, gave a press conference today that could best be described as “unhinged.” Among his desires as champion is to form a branch of the United Empire in STARDOM (Bushiroad’s other wrestling company, where his girlfriend Bea Priestley works), to rename the RevPro Undisputed British Heavyweight title into the IWGP British Heavyweight title since he can’t go back to RevPro right now, and also calling out both former WWE World Heavyweight champion Drew McIntyre, as well as No Longer In The Wrestling Business Wrestler, CM Punk. No, I’m not kidding. Read it, and recognize who is NJPW’s champion right now.

The main event of the entire tour will be Ospreay v. Shingo Takagi in Ospreay’s first defense of the IWGP World title. There is an interesting catch to this match, which I’ll detail below. That takes place on 5/4/2021 in Fukuoka, the second night of Wrestling Dontaku.

Also on 5/4, YOH will make his first ever challenge for the IWGP Juniorheavyweight title, in El Desperado’s first ever defense of it. Prior to that, on 4/28/2021, the first night of Wrestling Satsuma no Kuni in Kagoshima, Roppongi 3K will face Despy & Kanemaru in a rematch for the junior tag team titles RPG3K just beat them for yesterday. That night will also feature a Provisional KOPW2021 match between Toru Yano v. EVIL, with the stipulations to be determined.

The traditional day for Wrestling Dontaku, of course, is May 3, and on that show, the main event will have Hiroshi Tanahashi defending the NEVER Openweight belt against Jay White, seeking to become a Grand Slam champion. There will also be a ladder match in the semi-main event, with Taichi and Tama Tonga vying for ultimate possession of the Iron Finger From Hell, that’s been a critical component of GOD v. Dangerous Tekkers’ feud. This will be the first ladder match since Dominion on 6/19/2016, when *spits* Michael Elgin beat Kenny Omega for the IWGP Intercontinental title in such a match. I’m not really fond of ladder matches anymore, has to be said, but for only having two in the last five years in NJPW, I can live with it, I guess.

The NEVER Openweight Comedy titles will also be defended on a Road To tour show, on 4/20/2021 at Tokyo Korakuen Hall, when Hirooki Goto, Tomohiro Ishii & YOSHI-HASHI defend against a Bullet Club tandem of KENTA, Yujiro Takahashi & Taiji Ishimori. There will also be many and varied special singles and tag matches, especially between LIJ v. United Empire, throughout the tour.

There is... a lot, and it seems like it’s needlessly spread out over many shows, when at the face, this could be one good megacard. But then, the Wrestling Dontaku cycle of shows has always been this way, so pandemic or no, that’s how this was going to be.

On a related note, cards seem to be sticking to 5 or 6 matches, still, so it looks like there is still some sort of COVID-19 protocol being followed as far as length of shows, even if the state of emergency is now officially lifted. That said, new stricter measures have been implemented in Osaka, Miyagi and Hyogo Prefectures now, set to last through the end of Golden Week on 5/5/2021. Cases have been rising, still, so this may yet be prelude to another lockdown, at a time when the government is desperate to hold the Olympics a year later than originally planned.

The announcement of Ospreay v. Shingo came with a little rider attached to it: the winner of that match, will go on to face Kazuchika Okada in the main event of Wrestle Grand Slam in Tokyo Dome on 5/29/2021. Okada has not challenged for this, or any other title (the KOPW2020 doesn’t count!), since losing the IWGP Heavyweight Title to Tetsuya Naito on 1/5/2020 to bring about the Double Gold. This is the only match announced for either Wrestle Grand Slam show thus far. I admit, I forgot about this show when considering Ospreay may only hold this until Dominion, however, there is still a rematch with Kota Ibushi coming down the line sometime soon, you’d think.

Once match that has not been announced, but definitely challenged for: IWGP US Heavyweight Champion Jon Moxley posted a message on Twitter last night, calling out and challenging Yuji Nagata of all people to a match. Nagata’s response tweet was short, sweet, and actually very endearing. This match would be very very good, and since it has not been booked during Wrestling Dontaku, here’s hoping we get something for one of the Wrestle Grand Slam shows, and that AEW is willing to let him be off TV for at least a couple of weeks so he can quarantine sufficiently (or, alternatively, let this be on NJPW Strong). So this answers the question about the US title, after the New Japan Cup USA 2021 prize was altered from a shot at Mox, to the new NJPW Strong Openweight Championship.

I’ll get the cards up later this week. There may be a new podcast soon, but probably not until next weekend, honestly.

#NJPW #new japan pro wrestling #wrestling dontaku #road to wrestling dontaku #njdontaku #wrestling satsuma no kuni #Will Ospreay #Shingo Takagi #IWGP World Heavyweight Championship #wrestle grand slam #njwgs #Kazuchika Okada #jon moxley #Yuji Nagata #IWGP US Championship

2 notes · View notes

emilyofjane · 6 years

Text

The Host’s Origins

The continuity of the Author/Host storyline has always bothered me. I know it’s already been written a million times before, but I wanted to write something that bridged the two together, and do my own little take on how the Author became the Host. And since Mark said he won’t be making any future videos about the Host, what do I have to lose? ˉ\_(ツ)_/ˉ Enjoy!

—

The Author. The Narrator. The Host. For years people have tried to label me, to try and put a name to this mysterious power I possess. They see my abilities as a spectacle, too busy "ooh"ing and "aah"ing over the lights and effects to admire the performance underneath. They fail to see that there is more to my character than simply the stories I write – that I was once an ordinary man with a real name, long before my days as a writer began. He is a man of which I have long forgotten in the past, and yet it feels like only yesterday since I knew him. This is his – our – story.

My life began not unlike that of any other. I was born in a hospital to a pair of loving parents, and it was from them that I received my birth name: Bertram. There was no special meaning behind it, no secret message or omen hidden between the lines, so not even it could foretell the future I was destined to have. To everyone around me, I was just a normal person, and therefore I saw myself in this way, as well. It would be a long time before I'd realize that this was far from the case.

I'm not sure when I first realized that my abilities were unique. I had to have been at least 5 years old. Even at this early stage of life, before I even picked up my first pencil, I could see that I wasn't quite like the other children. While the other kids ran and played, I would sit and observe quietly, taking in every last detail of my surroundings. I would see every push and shove, every scraped knee and broken elbow, every laugh and scream and shout. My elders always scolded me for this, constantly telling me to stop mumbling to myself and join the rest of the children, but I always persisted. This little game I made – of narrating everything around me – would soon turn into a tedious habit that would nag me for years to come.

My first supernatural event, however, didn't come until much later, around age 10. I remember that I was sitting at my desk when it happened, pen in hand. I was upset with my parents; I had asked if we could adopt a pet, but they had rejected the idea. So I pulled out a piece of paper and created my own "pet" – a beautiful white dove named Bianca. I drew a crude sketch of the bird and below it I described everything I could about her, from the sound of her cooing and her favorite treat all the way down to how she ruffled her feathers when she preened. I was halfway through my writings when, suddenly, I heard a soft cooing noise underneath the desk. I pulled out my chair and looked down in my lap, only to see the exact same dove I had been writing about. She gave me an inquisitive look, as did I, and quickly I realized that there was something special about the things that I write. Just as Bianca came to life in my mind, she came to life outside of it, as well.

I discovered that everything I write...happens.

Honestly, I didn't know what to make of this power, at first. With this ability, I could create something out of nothing, transport myself anywhere in this world and beyond, and change the world around me in ways I never thought possible. Needless to say, that was a lot of responsibility for a child to bear. I was terrified, yes...but, at the same time, I was absolutely enthralled. Who knew what kind of amazing stories and heart-pounding adventures could stem from such power?

So, for the longest time, I kept these powers to myself. During the day, I'd put up a foolproof facade, masking myself as a normal student at school and a typical teenager at home. But as soon as the sun set over the horizon and the rest of the world drifted to sleep, I would stay wide awake, and, with Bianca peering over my shoulder, I would write. This is how the rest of my childhood was spent, pouring over my works of fiction and testing the limits of my newfound power. I look back fondly on these moments, as they are some of the happiest moments of my life. Writing had truly become my lifeblood, my passion.

But then, the visions started.

They started out small, at first. Whenever I laid eyes on someone, I could see their actions just a few seconds before they actually occurred. I would see a man tripping over a wire, and five seconds later, he did. I would see a car skid out of control on a snowy day, a dog leaping up to greet its owner, a young baby start to cry, all just moments before they happened in real life. It was strange, seeing and narrating the future but not being able to do anything about it. I mostly just ignored it, keeping the discovery to myself, as I did with most of my powers.

As the years went on, however, the visions became harder and harder to conceal. I began to see minutes ahead into the future, then hours, slowly but surely trickling into days and even weeks ahead of time. People, places, and events began to blur together in my mind, a thousand predictions happening at once. My narrations grew longer and longer by the day, and everyone around me thought I was insane. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

I began to isolate myself in my studies, spending less and less time in the real world and living vicariously through my fiction. I avoided people as much as I could, for all it took was one glance into another's eyes to have their entire life's story flash before my eyes and tumble off my lips. When I did go out in public, I was almost paralyzed by the constant barrage of visions, my mind aching from the sheer influx of information. I eventually left the city entirely and built my own secluded area in the woods; at least there, those visions couldn't haunt me. I still poured my heart and soul into my stories, but now they were more to me than just a creative outlet or a form of release; they were my lifeline, my link to humanity, the only thing that could preserve my sanity in this lonely life I pursued. Writing was the only thing that could put my mind at rest.

It wouldn't be long, however, until not even my writing could keep the visions at bay. I began to see them regardless of whether or not I looked a person in the eyes. Anyone who even came close to the forest would have their lives flash before my eyes, paralyzing me from what would sometimes be miles away. Some days, they would fog my mind so intensely that I couldn't even think of a topic to write. Bianca was the only one who could soothe me during these times, but she had grown old and frail with age. Once she was gone, I had no one left to talk to, no one to distract me from this reality. I was completely and utterly alone.

Finally, one day, I reached the breaking point. From the very second I woke up, those dreaded visions blasted my brain. I couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't blink away the madness. I could only lie for what felt like hours in my bed, trying and failing to block out the visions. Eventually, I gathered enough strength to move one finger, then two, until finally my whole hand shakily grasped the nightstand beside me. I struggled to stand, the visions blurring the world around me, numbing my mind, weighing down my body like lead. I fought for every inch, slowly and agonizingly making my way to the other end of the room. There was a floor-length mirror beside the bedroom door, and I collapsed in front of it, my whole body writhing in pain. It would be at least 10 minutes before I pulled myself up to my feet and glanced at myself in the mirror.

My eyes were bloodshot, every last vein visible from the strain. My breathing was heavy, my heart pounding. The world blurred once more, and suddenly I saw myself amongst the visions, my life literally flashing before my eyes. I saw myself from all perspectives, every last possible outcome of every decision I would ever make in my life. Some decisions would lead to happiness, others to sorrow, but most of them just foreshadowed a painful, unending loneliness. I saw myself in shambles, driven to insanity, wishing for death to release me. My whole body was shaking, at this point; is this really what my life would come to?

I began to see other people in the visions; these people sort of looked like myself, but at the same time, they did not. I saw a southerner, a monochromatic face, a game show host, a man with a pink mustache. Their faces were all identical to mine. Who were these doppelgängers – versions of myself from different timelines? Or was I simply going insane? At that point, I was banking on the latter.

Then I saw the face of a doctor, looking down sadly at me from a hospital gurney. He reached for something outside my plane of vision, and I could only assume that this was me just moments before my death...

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I gouged my eyes out, right then and there. Blood poured down my face like hot tears, but I didn't care. Slowly the visions began to fade, in sync with my eyesight. My body had grown physically weak from the onslaught, and I fell to my knees. I heard the shattering of glass, and the broken shards stabbed into my arms and legs – I must have hit the mirror on the way down. Even without the visions, my head still writhed in pain. The last thing I remembered before passing out was the sound of my front door opening, and one last word slipped past my lips: "Help."

I awoke to the sound of hospital equipment beeping and buzzing all around me. I tried to open my eyes, but the black void remained. So my suspicions were true: I really did render myself blind. Slowly I reached my hand to where my eyes used to be and felt a soft, linen cloth wrapped around my face. Somehow, I still had a sense of where everything was, despite having no vision whatsoever – must have been my mysterious powers at work.

I moved my head upwards, as if to look up at something, and suddenly I felt the presence of another person – the doctor. I sat myself up in my cot and turned my head towards the stranger, and I could sense that he was smiling.

"You gave us quite the scare," I remember him saying. "But don't worry. You'll be all right."

I asked for this good samaritan's name, and he told me to call him Dr. Iplier, or simply "Doc." I could still feel wisps of visions dance across the blackness of my vision, but it wasn't nearly as intense as before. I gathered just enough information to see that this stranger, this godsend, was the same doctor I had seen in the mirror. I could sense that we were similar, both struggling with a power we could not control, and that comforted me. I realized that for the first time, possibly in my entire life, I was not alone.

Eventually I took up residence with Dr. Iplier and the rest of my doppelgängers, the same people who I had seen in my reflection, the faces who looked almost identical to myself but at the same time differed so greatly. For the first time in years, I could interact with these people without being bombarded with countless visions. I have grown to love and appreciate everyone here, and in return they have accepted me for who I am. Some days I regret losing my eyesight, but all that I have gained in exchange for my vision reminds me that it was worth it.

I realize that I may never again be the man I once was, but I have found peace in this fact. I shed my birth name for this reason; Bertram is a name of a tortured and lonesome man, an artist who relied on his artwork to survive. Now, however, I am mended – not quite complete, but I am not broken, either. Now, I find joy in my writing once again, a feeling I had not felt in a long time. Now, I am happier, more at peace with myself and others, and in certain ways I am almost whole again.

Now, I am The Author. The Narrator. The Host. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

#markiplier #the host #the author #fan fiction #one shot

4 notes · View notes

simplyaservant · 4 years

Text

Testimony from 14 Year Old Me

In November 2014, my youth pastor at the time had the youth group write and read our testimonies. I found mine today...

Every day I see and hear things others say. things that should never be seen and never be heard. It really hurts. My heart really aches for the people. I just don’t understand... how can they not see? Through all of this confusion that everything causes it also makes me thankful. Thankful that I know God and am not involved in that mess and have someone. Someone that is everything, literally everything to me. God is my everything. I know that it seems that every Christian that has any walk with God at all seems to say that some time in their life. It’s a very common statement. But, not a very common truth. I think for me it really is a truth.

Gods my everything. He’s comforting when I need it the most. A shoulder when I need to cry. The light in the darkest night. My answer when I don’t know why and I need guidance. In the mists of my despair I know that he is there. Basically has my friend. someone that I can talk to when no one else is near, someone that really cares about the trivial things that I want to ask. I ask questions, think about things that could happen, things that are bothering me. I just talk in a quiet place, like I’m voicing out every little thing I can think of. I don't get direct answers, there’s no big voice or sound like I use to imagine God when he speaks to you. There’s just peace, quiet and love and I can rest at night knowing that someone out there knows how I feel. I've found that you don’t need to be in church or praying, to really feel him and know it’s all right. It is comforting to know that God is hope. not just for today or yesterday but for the future and not just for others future but for my future. I really struggled with that for the longest time…

He really is my friend. It’s not just a fairy tale that so many things in the bible sometimes feel like when were kids. Its real, something you can feel and see.

When I was 7 we moved churches. The church we were going to was very small and didn’t have very many people. But I had grown up there my entire life. I didn’t know why we were moving. I just knew that my mom and dad thought it was best. We looked around for a while. We went from church to church. None seemed to be what we were looking for. Then, we found Calvary. And it was everything we needed. I think I adjusted pretty well. I was a little shy at first but I made some friends and felt like it was home.

Middle school, if you can survive there you can go anywhere. In my opinion the entire system of class changes is really sad. You go from being a fifth grader you’re at the top nothing can go wrong… and then you go to middle school where you’re now at the bottom again. With new teachers (not one like your use to) and the buses are nosier, there's more students more names to learn and more things to know. then there's class changes were huge 8th graders just trample you as you scurry to class. And then suddenly you realize…you’re not on the top anymore.

The transition from elementary to middle school was really rough on me. Not because of teachers or homework or any of that other stuff. Ok it was a little intimidating. But the real thing that intimidated me was my religion. In middle school it’s not normal for girls to wear long pretty hair with bows or cute dresses. Now it's cut hair and pants. They ask you questions and you don’t have an answer because it never occurred to you that you should have exact evidence to tell people why you do things.

When I got home that day I asked my parents what to say. They told me to say it was part of being a Pentecostal. Living a holy lifestyle is a sacrifice we make for God. We want to be modest and live separate for him. I really struggled with this. I didn’t want to say it was my religion. That led to other questions. So I just said I liked skirts and long hair and left it at that. I was agitated by the fact that my religion drew attention to me and that people even cared. Why did they care? The same people that thought I was weird and talked behind my back were asking about my religion! So, I didn’t really answer any questions until the end of 7th grade. That was when I was taught in detail why we did what we did. It made a lot more sense and I wasn’t frustrated as I once was. I started to not be so scared to stand out and answered people's questions correctly.

My two best friends had went to our first singing concert at the church. (Kaylah had been to our church before when brother campetella preached.) The service was dynamic. People received the Holy Ghost and experienced something they never felt before. Kaylah loved it but Amy… I think she got really weirded out. Kaylah wanted and did come back. Amy didn’t.

We were talking one day in reading class. We were designing a poster for some weird, odd thing a design it yourself project. Suddenly one of my friends somehow brought up the topic of church… my church. She said she got scared when I sat down to pray, she didn’t know what was wrong. She also said that my church it looked like the people were possessed and looked scary. We talked funny and not normal. She said even I did. I was silent I didn’t know what to say. I’d never been presented with anything like this. But my other friend who had only been to our church 3 said “It scared me at first to. But I got the Holy Ghost and it was the best thing that’s ever happen in my life.” Amy didn’t bring up the subject ever again.

I was once again in reading class. It was the day before Christmas break… December 22, 2012. It was 10:23. I know exactly because when you’re about to be called out of class, so your dad can have a tumor removed, you don’t exactly pay attention to the main idea of a passage. I got some work done but I knew that I wouldn’t finish the quiz and would have to finish it at a later time after the break was over. I got out of class at 10 27. Tears were in my eyes but no one saw. They were focused on their quizzes. Lucky them.

Some of my friends knew about the surgery. But I remember one especially. His name was Payton. He wasn’t apostolic but he was very religious in the eyes of the people around school. He and me we weren’t really friends.. Earlier in the day he said “Don’t think about what could happen. Your mind turns things into reality. Just think about how he’s going to be all right.”

I don’t think Payton knew exactly how much he helped me. I don’t think he ever will. My mom, dad and I all prayed together before they gave my dad medicine. The surgery went “beautifully” I don’t get why they say surgeries are beautiful. I don’t see any beauty in them. When my dad woke up the first thing he told the nurse was “there’s an 11 year old girl who needs to know I’m ok” the nurse came and told me. I think I cried a little.

It’s hard for to believe that my dad wasn’t always in church. He grew up in a family that didn’t go to church. He was invited over and over. No visit seemed to make an impact. Then he met a spirit filled woman who took him in and provided him with guidance. She told him to pray. One night he was praying and he said ‘lord here I am” like Samuel. He promised God he would give his life all the way and not partially like he was. He also promised that if he ever got married and had a son. If his wife was ok with it he would name him Samuel. Of course I came first, so was named Hannah. Then Samuel came.

My dad was always good at telling bible stories. He implanted them into my mind at a young age. (One time I started quoting bible verses to my grandmother from memory. She couldn’t believe it) My dad’s also a preacher. He preaches once in a while at other churches. I remember I always use to love going with him. The pastor took us out to eat. He constantly he is having burst of inspiration. When he has to go to a computer and type a message. He says I think the lord's given my something and starts the message. He is very extravagant with his talking. Whenever I need help with something related to church I go to him. He always knows the right thing to say. I need to make sure I have a lot of time though because he turns the entire thing into a message. I’m really thankful for parents that are steadfast in the truth. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have them

I can see myself in the future helping out at Sunday school. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Seeing young kids learn about God at a young age. Like my mom. I also LOVE to sing and sometimes play piano. As for a calling from God… I don’t know if I have found mine yet. When I was little I use to say I was called to be a missionary from God. I had these dreams and thoughts that I thought meant God was calling me to be a missionary.

The word apostolic means a lot of things to me. Though it is never used in the context of the Bible itself, the word has become a very common term. The word Apostolic came about in the 2nd century. It was meant for people that had a direct connection with God and the original apostles. The word apostolic, to me, refers to individuals who show/exhibit holiness. Apostolic, our lives are considered to be, “like” the apostles of the old. Pentecostals refer to themselves as apostolic because it’s like we're restoring the faith of the New Testament Church like in baptizing(in the name of Jesus only) is the way the apostles in the New Testament baptized. So we are as the apostles that followed the lord.

Apostolic isn’t just my religion… its my way of life.

Some people think that we are crazy. that we're out of our minds for worshiping the way we do. that it is not “respectful” to jump around and run and pray out loud. to lay hands on others. Well I look at them and think. there is no way you have felt what I have because if you did you would never talk that way.

If you have seen people who have been lost be found, people get over addictions, the sick restored to healing. If you have seen miracles right before your very eyes . Miracles that occur even when you're not in church ( like my grandmother surviving a car accident that totaled the car. their not in church. but were still praying. God cared enough to save her from that car accident. He must care enough to save her life.) If you have seen what I’ve seen, felt what I have, experienced what I have experienced…than you’d probably be Jesus crazy too. It something you have to see for yourself, you'll still think were crazy but at least than you'll know why

A not so famous philosopher once said "I’d rather be at the bottom and work my way to the top, than be at the top and work my way to the bottom". Serving the lord, means that you are climbing to the top. The greatest reward awaits. With God all things are possible. You can be in the deepest valley and God will still be with you. I do not know where I am, the bottom or top. but I like to think of myself somewhere in the middle and slowly climbing to the top with an angel leading the way. I know that there are trials ahead but I know that God will be there for me guiding the way.

Don’t give up on God cause he won’t give up on you. He’s able to carry you through it all. He’ll never leave or forsake you. He is everything you’ll ever need. Thank God when trials come. Behind every test, there is a miracle and testimony not far behind. So thank God for the trial, praise him for the test. because when he brings you out you’ll have that much more to be thankful for.

God really is my everything and I hope he is yours too.

#testimony

0 notes

nightblogofficialbook · 5 years

Text

Chapter Fourteen

Also available to read at Tapas.io!

I sat where I was on the couch, still mulling over things. It felt like a week had passed me by in just 24 hours. Despite having a full night's rest I felt exhausted. And furious. Why did he do that? Why did he decide today, of all days, would be a time to test that? I was still unnerved at the fact that he actually made me feel comfortable, relaxed. I didn’t like it. It was terrifying.

A few more minutes passed before Dmitri arrived with a soft knock. He gave me time to get changed and fixed up, and then he led me down a spiral staircase and out of the tower. He assured me that everyone on the riding trail made it back safe and sound, and have been given enough information to placate them. This made it easier for me to come up with what to actually say, in case I say too much.

After what felt like a long walk we finally reached the open glass hallway to the Day Wing, and I relaxed just a little more, thankful for the familiarity. Dmitri said he’d let me go from there but assured me that he’d still be close by.

Everyone was practically in hysterics when I showed up, Claire even in tears since she saw me last. I felt horrible. Not only was I not able to tell anyone when I left, but now I had to leave them in the dark again, after they all had woken up and found me missing. They thought I had been kidnapped, which...they weren’t exactly wrong about.

To my surprise though, they took my excuses readily, understanding immediately, soon as I mentioned Zain. I’m starting to realize what kind of power he actually has...and just how much power his name alone carries. I wonder what else I’d could get away with.

After packing my things and handing them to Dmitri I decided to walk around with the girls, seeing as I don’t know how much more time I’d be able to spend with them now. Everything seemed...normal, despite the buzz of rumors about what happened yesterday. News of Zain’s injuries had spread with worry and yet hardly anyone seemed actually concerned. Less concerned than the day I had shown up even. It made me recall the story he had told me last night, and his disdain. Everyone knew...but nobody seemed to care. Like it was just an every other day occurrence.

The only thing that seemed to really change was me.

Despite staying in his room from then on, I didn’t see Zain for nearly the entire week. Dmitri and Mason would trade off escorting me to and from his room since Dmitri would still have classes. I began to wonder when Zain sleeps, and if he ever normally sleeps. Maybe he sleeps during the day; most of his duties seemed to be at night. I asked Mason one time where he was.

“The idiot is still running around on fumes,” he said, shaking his head. “Still trying to gather evidence of a conspiracy to give to the council; dumbass hasn’t even slept yet.”

Well that answered one question. Regardless, I slept on the couch instead of the bed, which was significantly less comfy but felt way less weird.

Aside from the rumors of his attack, the Winter Solstice was still the main topic on everyone’s mind. It was the one night that every human was invited over to the Night Wing to comingle and celebrate with the entire vampire population. There was talk of extravagances and earning favors, the pinings among my peers for the chance to meet young suitors at the dance. Even if I weren’t already required to go, I’d have no interest in any of this whole affair. I’d be doing my best to ensure I COULDN’T go. But the ball was only two weeks away now, and a horrible thought just occurred to me.

I’m going to have to dance with Zain.

And I still can’t dance worth crap.

“Hey, Dmitri?” I asked once everyone had left the classroom. “Can I...ask you something?”

A slight look of worry tinged his eyes but he obliged. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

“You remember when you offered to...when you said if I ever changed my mind about dancing, you’d be up for the challenge?”

His eyes immediately lit up. “Yes, of course. My offers still stands, naturally.

I nodded, feeling determined now. “Do you...do you think you can help me in time for the Solstice Ball?”

It was very dark by the time I got back to the Night Wing. Dmitri was ecstatic, and wanted to start working with me immediately. I’ve all but filled up my free time now with extra lesson with him, trying to learn the specific dance style that was traditionally performed. Unsurprisingly my klutziness resulted in some really horrendous accidents that, had it been another human being, would have definitely caused injury. But Dmitri was unfazed by it all, and remained determined to make a dancer out of me.

I groaned as I opened the door, feeling rather sore yet somewhat exhilarated, and felt the pulling sensation increase. With a start I looked up; Zain was back.

He was sitting on his bed, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands, his face furrowed. He made no noise or motion that indicated he was aware of my presence. I shuffled in awkwardly.

“Hey,” I called with uncertainty. “Um, hi, I’m here.”

“I know.” He still didn’t move, his eyes staring out into nothing, like he was looking outward for something.

“Um…” I tentatively pulled up a chair and sat down. “Has...has something happened?”

The concern in my voice seemed to snap him out of it. He looked up, his eyes focused on me, and then back forward. He looked so tired. But he was present now.

“No, nothing yet. Nothing definitive. I managed to find traces of the group that attacked me, they were definitely organized. But there’s nothing that draws them back to the castle. Whoever it is, they’re keeping very good tabs on their tracks and alibis.”

“What about Greg?”

“I’ve looked into him too. And into every piece of paper that entered existence in this castle and where it goes. He’s never exhibited any behavior out of the ordinary, except when he intercepted us last week. And no one knows how that letter ended up in your possession.”

I shivered. “Do ghosts exist too, by chance?”

He gave me an impatient stare. “Really, Helen?”

“Come on, I’m half-kidding. I don’t know what’s real or fantasy anymore. I still wonder if I’m not just having the world’s longest nightmare.”

“Tell me about it…” Zain grumbled.

Silence fell between us as soft moonlight began to fill the windows.

“What about anyone on the council?” I asked after a moment. “At this point we should be treating everyone as a suspect, right?”

He gave me another look of frustrated impatience that quickly turned thoughtful. “That’s true. It could even be the entire council, and that’s why they’re so against it.” He groaned and fell back into the bed. “But they of all people would understand what would happen if I died. Their interests is in the peace of our preservation, not destructive chaos. Someone could be pretending, but…”

He suddenly sat up, his eyes wide. “That’s right. Someone could be pretending--lying. But they wouldn’t know…” He stood up, coming over to me. “Helen, have you noticed anything strange about your friends?”

I bristled. “I’m sorry what?” I felt extremely confident that none of them are trying to kill us.

He shook his head and gripped my shoulders, looking hopeful. “I don’t mean like that, I just mean have any of them been acting weird, or stranger than usual?”

I thought about it, about the week so far. Nothing had been strange, Rose seemed a little more worried but remained a powerhouse to the dorm, Alice and Suzanne hadn’t changed routines at all, Claire got her form from Greg for the spring trip and some new snacks, Wendy-

My insides grew cold with guilt as I realized. “Wendy wasn’t at the dorms at all.”

He stiffened. “That’s not good.”

I stared into his eyes with worry. “You don’t think…?”

He didn’t answer. He seemed to be thinking things over, then…

“I need to check something. This might be...this might be the lead I needed.” He looked into my eyes again, patiently pleading. “And, Helen...I really need you to cooperate with me today.”

I stiffened, immediately remembering what he did last time.

“I promised I wouldn’t do that to you again. I keep my promises.”

I swallowed tentatively and took a breath. “Okay, fine,” I said, awkwardly moving my hair out of the way of my neck. “It’s better not to take chances I guess.”

He seemed to chuckle and smirk a little, and took my arm instead. “Just a snack this time, Helen. No need to be so dramatic.”

I flushed and glared at him. “Excuse you, who was it that’s always objected to anything but my neck?!” But he had already bit into my arm.

The brief pain caused me to wince but it soon faded quickly as the vague yet familiar numbness took it place as he drew my blood. A slightly morbid curiosity filled me as instead of shutting my eyes I glanced sideways at him.

Zain was holding my arm gently to his mouth, his lips soft against my skin as if he were simply kissing it. His eyes were closed and relaxed, though his features seemed ragged with exhaustion. The skin around where he bit was unmarked except for a little drainage of color. As he drank slowly and carefully, I realized just how used to this I had gotten. The sight, the idea of it, no longer sickened me.

He lifted his mouth with a light gasp, and then let me go after a quick swipe of his tongue over the wound before the blood could bead. I snatched my arm back soon as he did, startled and a little weirded out. And then saw the two red punctures reduce it’s swelling and heal over, leaving behind the smallest hint of a bruise. My eyes widened.

“Vampire venom,” Zain explained to my alarmed gaze as he wiped his mouth. “You’ve heard about it, we make a diluted paste out of it for humans. In pure concentration it can be toxic. You’re immune to mine though.”

“How do people not die when they’re not a Bride?” I asked in disbelief, still staring at my arm and trying not to think about the fact that he just licked me.

“It depends on how much blood is taken, and how healthy the victim is.” I smirked a little when he said ‘victim,’ and he rolled his eyes at me. “I’m not the only one who has a hard time following the rules; some humans and vampires do contact feeding; it’s part of the reason why we make sure everyone stays healthy.”

“So no one accidently dies,” I nodded. “So...if another vampire bit me, then…?”

“As long as I keep feeding from you regularly, nothing should happen. My venom in your system acts like an antibody as well as a healing mechanism; it uses your energy to accelerate any injury recovery, and it attacks any foreign intrusion if anyone else tries to bite or turn you, kind of like guarding a territory. If you were to be attacked, and someone else bit you or tried to turn you, you'd be in mortal danger unless I get to you in time. My regular feedings from you isn’t just for my benefit alone; it's keeping you protected as well.”

“Thats...disturbing. Yet somewhat reassuring.” It was weird to know that essentially Zain’s spit coursed through my veins, but at least that meant I'd be relatively safe from other vampires’ bites. Zain was staring at me now, though.

“What?” I asked, then realized. “Did...did I just say that outloud?”

“You did,” he answered, still staring at me curiously. “Not that it would have matter whether you vocalized it or not.”

I looked away and crossed my arms, my face tinged pink I’m sure. It was really unfair how often he heard my thoughts. “Stay out of my head.”

“As I’ve said before, I would if I could, love.”

Now it was my turn to stare at him.

“Oops, did I say that outloud?” he said with an air of false pretense, the corners of his mouth curling ever so slightly, and teasing mischief in his eyes. I glared at him, glad the anger hid the embarrassing thoughts my mind had jumped to. That’s not funny. He seemed to think it was.

He cleared his throat and began heading towards the door, the humor falling back to a mode of seriousness. “I’m going to go check some things now, and see if I can find your friend.” My anger subsided immediately and gave way to worry. “I don’t know how long it will take, but please, PLEASE, don’t leave the room unless Dmitri, Mason, or myself comes for you. They’ll be close by just in case, but if we’re being watched they’re going to know I’ll be on the other side of the castle, and away from you.”

I nodded, feeling my insides curl with a growing sense of unease. I really want to go to the pool; I’m probably not going to be able to sleep tonight.

He cast me a sympathetic stare before opened the door. “Stay safe, Helen,” he said, and then he was gone.

I sat in the quiet, trying not to think once more. I really didn’t like this room. It was too big. Too empty. There was too much space for my thoughts to escape into. Wendy...how could I have not noticed her? That she was missing? Why hadn’t anyone mentioned it? Or noticed it? I know it was common for her to miss classes but…

Wait. What if she was just in her room the whole time? Maybe she was sick…

But her urgent warning that day was too coincidental. Something strange, stranger than normal, was happening.

I shook my head and propped it against my hands on the table. I was so tired. I wanted to lie down. But there was too much happening in my brain. He licked my arm. I shuddered, feeling weird, casting my eyes to the almost-gone bruise. That healed way faster than the ointment Alice had used on me my first night here. And the bruise on my neck after his first actual feeding...that had still been really dark, though it hadn’t left any swelling. And the fast healing bruise from when I force fed him, it had gone from purple to yellow very quickly; it was gone within that evening. My body, I realized, has steadily grown more efficient at healing those things. My hand traced the welted scar around my collarbone idly, recalling what he just told me earlier. About his venom in my veins, its healing properties. The changes my body was going through, would continue to go through. That venom...must be responsible for preserving the life of Brides, I concluded. If Zain stopped feeding from me, I wonder, would I start to age, same as he would?

But then, Brides were supposed to be changed from the moment of the first bite, regardless of the lifespan of the vampire. Or...was that also a lie too?

My head slowly fogged over, my eyelids drooping. I really wanted to lie down, but I was too worried. Loneliness was all that filled the space here. I found myself wishing he would come back soon, as my head slowly lowered to the table.

Everything felt bright and airy, and I knew immediately I was in a dream. I was floating through the snow, but it wasn’t cold. The trees were quiet, and soothing. It was a blissful moment, but I should probably be getting home.

Very slowly eyes began to form on the tree trunks, following me, growing more frequent. It unnerved me, and I started running. Now I was in the castle walls, passing portraits and shadows. The eyes continued to follow me.

I was in a courtyard, but not one I’d seen before. There were large stone arches and a fountain. Someone was standing on the other side, a dark figure. They felt dangerous. The eyes were starting to close in, like they were excited, like something they had been wanting was about to happen.

“Helen?”

I looked up, startled. Zain was standing next to me, looking bemused.

“What are you still doing there?” he asked, and the eyes disappeared. Elation filled me; I was so relieved. Zain’s here now, everything will be okay.

The world around us blurred and we were back in his room again. I mumbled something about “You scared the eyes away.” He looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then seemed to understand.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said gently, and lifted me from my chair. His arms were so warm and his scent so pleasant...I buried my head in his chest, sighing and wishing this wasn’t a dream. A soft chuckle resonated within it.

He set me down on the bed and began to walk away, but I reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his sweater desperately, causing his red worried eyes to turn back in surprise. Don’t go...please don’t go, they’ll come back, I don’t want them to come back…”

“Who will come back?” he questioned, his voice sounding worried.

“The lonely,” I murmured, my droopy eyes starting to well with tears. “Don’t leave me, please…”

Something seemed to click in his expression, and he sat down on the bed next to me. His eyes switched from red to green like a stoplight. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just stay…” I still had a hold of his sleeve. “Don’t leave...just stay with me…”

“I won’t leave,” his gentle voice murmured, and I felt my heart lift. I closed my eyes, the tears that had built up pushed themselves out and down my cheeks. He was staying, it was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

There was a soft humming and I felt my hair being stroked gently. It was comforting, and his voice soothing. I could feel myself falling deeper into sleep, wishing once again this wasn’t just a dream.

When I woke up my face flushed immediately. The dream played and replayed in my head a few more times, each time more embarrassing than the last. I sat up, my feelings squirming in a weird manner inside me. That was definitely a dream...right? He didn’t...he wouldn’t have acted like...and didn’t really...I didn’t...right?

The door clicked opened and I threw the metal barriers up immediately, squeaking in fright. The smell of fresh warm eggs and bacon wafted in, and Zain walked in carrying a plate of breakfast. He spotted me.

“Oh good, you’re already awake. I brought up some breakfast.”

I stared at him incredulously, wondering if I wasn’t still asleep.

“There’s some things I need to talk to you about,” he said, making his way to the couches and table. “Something that...isn’t going to be easy for you to hear.”

I swallowed, and my stomach growled. Unable to resist the smell of offered food I obliged and got out of bed. I watched his face with growing anxiety. Did he...hear my dream at all? Would dreams carry through thoughts? I didn’t want to be teased for this. It was bad enough that...but his face remained stoic, his eyes not meeting mine. He waiting for me to start eating first, staring down at his hands in contemplation.

“I couldn’t find Wendy,” he said, and I dropped my fork.

“You couldn’t…?” I picked up the fork again, the dream falling completely from my mind. “Then...is she…?”

“She’s vanished, I couldn’t find a trace of her anywhere. Her scent led up to her room and never left. I don’t think she’s dead.”

The food grew bland in my mouth. I didn’t want to eat anymore. “Then...then she’s been taken.”

“That is my best guess, though by who I can’t be sure. Your friends’ memories, however...have been altered.”

I froze. “What? What do you--?”

“They’re okay! They haven’t been hurt, but...someone’s tampered with their memories of Wendy. They seemed to be under the impression that she’s simply an acquaintance; they have no recollection of Wendy ever having stayed in the dorms.”

“But--her room--?”

“The plaque had been removed.”

My head spun as I tried to keep my breathing steady. Wendy’s been taken...someone must have found out she tried to tell me and took her. They’re trying to erase her existence to cover it up. “Who has the ability to do that?”

“Too many people unfortunately,” Zain grimaced. “But now we have something that I can force a proper investigation on. Even if it’s unrelated, she might have been kidnapped to make a Bride, which is against the rules without the proper procedures. They can’t ignore this.” He looked triumphant, and hopeful, but still with a twinge of worry in his eyes. And then his expression fell just a little. “But this would rule out Greg; his ability has to do with intelligence gathering. He can observe high amounts of information through strands of thought,” he added to my puzzled look. “He’s kind of like an antenna…” Zain trailed off as a thought dawned on me.

“That’s how he could be keeping track of us,” I said out loud. “He wouldn’t need to follow us around.”

“He can just tune in to the right frequencies,” Zain said, his hand going to his mouth in realization. “But then...that would definitely mean there are more accomplices, if that’s the case. Someone who can tamper with memories, and someone who can collect information.”

We sat there for a moment, and I dropped my head into my hands in exasperation. Zain cast me a look of sympathy.

“Why does everything keep getting complicated…” I grumbled. “Is there a way to get their memories back?”

“It depends,” he answered hesitantly, “on how they were taken in the first place. Vampires powers are fairly unique, but they’re usually a variation of four category types: Mental, Physical, Elemental, and Ethereal. Mine would be considered elemental, Dmitri’s telekinesis is physical, Greg’s would be mental. Memory tampering would also be mental, but there’s different variations of how that works. It could be that they’re memories were reordered, locked, or, as an ethereal version, actually stolen away. It doesn’t seem like it’s a case of that, ethereal abilities are actually pretty rare. If they’re scrambled, we can find a person who can put them back but…”

“...but there’s a chance that person would be the one who scrambled them in the first place,” I finished for him. He nodded.

“Things might get...more dangerous today,” he began to say. “I don’t think whoever it was expected me to let you back to the Day Wing so quickly; they might not have snuck your friend away so soon if they knew. But they’re going to know by now that I’ve searched for her, and once it gets to the council today they might think they’ve been compromised. I want you to stay here, okay? Just for today at least. They might get desperate, they might act while I’m away from you this time.”

I didn’t like the idea of being stuck in the room all day, but I also didn’t like the idea of feeling paranoid walking through the halls. “What about you? Wouldn’t it be better if I stayed with you?”

He blinked at me for a second, and then the slyest smirk I’ve seen from him yet pulled up the corners of his mouth. “What’s this, Helen?” he accused teasingly. “Worried for me?”

For second it felt like he knew. He knew about the dream, he heard it. But I wasn’t going to admit it. I flushed and looked away angrily. “Of course I’m worried, jerkface. It’s not like I want you to die.”

A small triumphant glee rose in me as I saw his expression fall just a little, once he realized his teasing didn’t work the way he intended. He sighed sheepishly.

“I’ll be in the council room the whole time, so unless it’s the council themselves, whoever it is will have a hard time fighting against fourteen powerful vampires. I appreciate the concern though,” he added with another smirk.

He waited until I finished the rest of my breakfast (what I could stomach at this point at least) before leaving, promising to be back by lunch. I sat where he left me, staying in my pajamas, uncertain. The pulling sensation grew taut but not unbearably so, almost seeming to react to my anxiety this time. I was afraid, afraid for my friends, afraid for Zain, afraid for myself. There was nothing I could do about it right now, nothing I could do at all. I could only hope that things work out, that the COV listens to him, that they find Wendy safe and sound.

Wendy...I looked over at his bookshelf. Peter and Wendy, the story of Peter Pan. A boy who never wanted to grow up, whisks away a young girl and her siblings, and proceeds to have many adventures. Our Wendy’s been whisked away too, only she was all alone, kidnapped by an unidentified Captain Hook.

I shook my head and tried to busy myself. I tried to practice the dance steps Dmitri had been teaching me, pretending to be waltzing with an invisible partner. When I felt too silly I decided to poke around, investigating Zain’s office-sized walk-in closet. Despite the size it looked like many articles of clothing remained untouched, some even looking to be too big for him. When that didn’t work I sat back down next to his bookshelves and tried reading some of the books he had.

Time continued to drag on, I was pretty sure it was noon now. I was starting to get hungry again. I briefly considered sneaking down to get food. It was a stupid idea, of course. But I decided to get up anyway and press my ear to the door. No sound was coming from the halls, not that I was surprised, this was probably the only room up here.

I walked over to the balcony window and hesitated. Surely it would be okay, it would be safe, right? It was part of his room after all.

The blast of cold air was a breath of relief. I hadn’t realized how stuffy it felt in the room. The sky was white and cloudy, and there was a fresh layer of snow. I stepped out and leaned against the stone railing, my breath coming out in puffs of steam. I started to relax.

It’ll be okay. Thousands of strange things have happened now, but you haven’t died from them.

Not yet anyway.

Shut up, that doesn’t mean things won’t work out. I mean, it’s been four months now, right? That’s plenty of time for things to turn catastrophic.

But something was coming. Something in me felt it, like the foreshadowing of a story. It was like a big storm was coming, and I was staring into the thunderclouds rolling towards me.

Want to support the author? Don’t want to wait for more?

Purchase the whole book here!

#long reads #original story #vampire story #fantasy story #dark romance #vampires #romance #zain #helen #chapter fourteen #night #no one will read this

0 notes

anavoliselenu · 7 years

Text

Hiched chapter 1

Prologue

Justin

“Another beer?” my best friend Sterling asks.

“I better not.”

He smirks. “So you’re really going to go through with it, huh, mate?”

“What’s the big deal? You took a fake date to prom.”

I chuckle to myself, remembering the year Sterling took his cousin to the dance. He thought it was genius at the time—no corsage to buy, no need to impress her with a fancy restaurant or limo ride. Until the end of the night, when all the rest of us were enjoying some skin-to-skin contact with our dates, and he realized what a horrible decision he’d made. The only skin-to-skin action he got was with his hand.

“A fake wife is a hell of a lot different. It’s a big fucking deal.” Sterling glares at me over the rim of his beer.

Looking out over the ocean from our spot on the porch of the beach cottage, I loosen my tie, which has grown too tight around my neck, and level him with a dark stare.

“Actually, it’s legally binding, so she’ll be my real wife. Until we got divorced, or got the marriage annulled or whatever.”

“Do you even hear yourself? This is insane. You can’t marry some chick you don’t even like.”

“Who says I don’t like her?”

His eyes widen. “I’m not talking about the unrequited lust-fueled crush you’ve had on her since you were a horny teenager.”

I rub the back of my neck, feeling the stirrings of a headache. “What do you expect me to do? It’s part of my father’s will. This is my—no, our condition for taking over the company. No marriage means no inheritance, period. For either of us.”

Some people may say that being thrust into such luxury from the start makes you immune to it all, but that’s not true. I’ve never taken a single day of it for granted, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to give it up without a fight.

Sterling releases a loud sigh, and his gaze follows mine out to the water beyond. “I just think you should really think this through, man. Marriage is a big deal. It’s not something to be entered into lightly.”

Between the two of us, Sterling’s always been the voice of reason. For every brazen and rash idea I’ve had, every time I’ve jumped into the deep end without thinking, he’s helped steer me back onto the straight-and-narrow path. He’s been my best friend since we were fourteen. As the two new kids at a prestigious boarding school in Connecticut, we became inseparable.

“Trust me when I tell you I understand the gravity of the situation.”

My father’s death last year was a huge wake-up call. The fate of his $100 billion company suddenly dropped straight into my hands. I had to be ready to take over. And I am—I’ll do whatever it takes. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that my bride-to-be is the woman I’ve always wanted.

“There has to be another way,” Sterling says after taking a sip of his beer. “Besides, with your wandering eye and perpetually hard dick, you’d make a terrible husband.”

Ouch. I’m not that bad, am I?

He’s lecturing me about something, but all I can focus on is the tumultuous waves and the uneasy feelings stirring inside me.

“Oh, one more thing,” I say, turning toward him. “I need to knock her up.”

Sterling spits out his drink.

Chapter One

Justin

One Month Earlier

I clench my teeth and check my Rolex for the third time. This entire thing is a huge waste of time.

“Where is she?” I cast a glance at Selena’s father, Fred Cane, who’s seated at the head of the long conference room table.

“She’ll be here,” he assures me. Then, under his breath, he adds, “She’s got to.”

My sentiments exactly.

This meeting is a last-ditch effort to try to convince Selena to sign the contract. But I’m worried today will just be a repeat of last week. She flat-out refused to sign anything that put the two of us together in the same sentence—and said hell no.

Actually, it might have been said with more gusto. I think there was even an f-bomb involved.

But we need to get hitched before ownership of Tate & Cane Enterprises can transfer to us. And with the board of directors’ deadline looming, we need to do it yesterday. I’m not losing the $100 billion company that my father built because the ice queen won’t play nice.

I make a fat six-figure income, enjoy the finest indulgences money can buy, and I know damn well I live the good life. Just because I don’t take it for granted doesn’t mean I don’t take advantage.

Free upgrades at all the best hotels? Absolutely. The finest champagne delivered to my table, courtesy of the sommelier? Why not? The lifeguard at our country club letting me bend her over in the locker room all summer? Sure. The pretty blond hostess at La Chample who wants to blow me in the bathroom before my business dinner? Hell yeah. Being wealthy and attractive has its perks.

But if Selena doesn’t show up today, and if we can’t agree on the terms of this contract, my wealth stands to suffer immensely. As do the jobs and lives of the six thousand employees of Tate & Cane, including one of my favorite people on the planet, Rosita Hernandez. She’s a single mom to six kids. And if this deal goes south, I can only imagine what would happen to someone like Rosita. Christ, I’d probably end up moving her and the kids into my penthouse. Which would obviously put a huge cramp in the aforementioned blow jobs and champagne I regularly enjoy.

I shudder at the thought.

“I know it’s unconventional, that the contract is . . .” Fred pauses and frowns. He drums his fingers on the table, looking sheepish.

Unconventional? To say the fucking least. If the situation weren’t so grim, I might laugh.

He and my father drew up their wills years ago, outlining what would happen to their multibillion-dollar baby should they kick the bucket. The daunting stack of papers in front of me spells out in full legal jargon that Selena and I are to inherit the company with joint fifty-fifty ownership . . . but only if we’re legally wed.

With Fred’s failing health and the company itself suffering six consecutive quarters in the red, an emergency meeting was called last week. Selena and I were presented with our options.

In my view, there were no options. There was just the right thing to do. We had to marry to save not only our own jobs, but our fathers’ legacies and the jobs of six thousand people in offices in Manhattan, Chicago, San Diego, and Brussels.

Selena felt differently. She didn’t relish the idea of being tied to me, and insisted there had to be another way.

Even if we do manage to persuade her to tie the knot, there’s no way Selena would be getting anywhere near my bed. Damn shame.

We came close once . . . just once. Back when she was a drunk college co-ed on spring break.

Her family was staying with mine in a beach house on Puget Sound. We’d escaped the East Coast for the West that summer. Whale watching and hiking trips in the salty sea air and evenings spent eating lobster and drinking chardonnay like we were real adults and not nineteen-year-olds with stars in our eyes.

She snuck out of the bunk bed in the room she was sharing with her sister, Rachel, and into my bedroom that night. And when she crawled in beside me and laid her warm palm against my bare chest, I was a goner. I’ve always wanted Selena. Always desired her, from before I even knew what those strange feelings were in my gut, my chest. We kissed in the darkness, our tongues exploring, hands groping, hearts beating wildly.

But then reality slammed into me. There were a lot of reasons I told her no that night. Her mom had recently been diagnosed with cancer, and I knew Selena would regret using me to cope. Plus, I knew from a recent game of Truth or Dare that she was still a virgin.

So I kissed her a final time and then sent her away. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

And now she treats me as if I were a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of those Louboutin heels she favors.

“I really think this is for the best,” Fred adds, pulling me back to the present.

“It’s what your father wanted, Justin,” Prescott says. Before my father’s death, Prescott was his most trusted advisor. He’s also a total fucking douche bag.

Just then, the conference room door flies open, and I know it’s her before I even look up from the contract.

A fresh floral scent with crisp notes of honeysuckle greets me. I have no idea where Selena gets that shit, but it makes my mouth water. It always has. I once spent an entire Saturday at the fragrance counter of a department store trying to figure it out, trying to prove that it was just some manufactured, bottled version of attraction, that it wasn’t something special to her. I never found it.

“I’m here,” Selena says, slightly breathless.

I look up just in time to be treated to the sight of her smoothing her dress shirt over her curves. Lush breasts and a flat stomach leading to full hips. Her jacket is slung over her arm, as is her tan leather briefcase, monogrammed with her initials in black cursive stitching.

“Miss Cane,” I say cheerfully. “You look exceptionally refreshed this morning.”

She likes to exercise in the morning before work, says it gives her the mental agility to stay focused on business for the sixteen-hour days she’s known to plow through. I like that it gives her cheeks a rosy glow . . . much like I’d guess sex would. Just the thought makes my cock twitch in my dress slacks.

“Save it, Justin. This is purely business,” she says, blinking at me with those lush, dark lashes.

No smile. No laughter. The opposite of the usual reaction I evoke from the fairer sex. And that annoys the shit out of me.

It’s as if Selena Cane alone possesses an antidote to my charm. And that only makes me want to watch her surrender to me that much more. The idea of her on her knees, pink lips parted, taking my cock deep down her throat, begging for more even as she gags on my impressive length, is more than just a sexual turn-on. It’s practically a life goal. To me, sex is a competitive sport. I know the rules, I play hard, and I always win.

Realizing they’re all still watching me, I take a deep breath, trying to force my cock to behave himself, and hold up my hands. She’s never taken one ounce of my shit, and I respect the hell out of her for that.

“I’m just trying to do what’s best here.”

She lets out a soft sigh of exasperation and sets her bag on the table. “Let’s get on with this.”

Her father pats the back of her hand. “Sit down, honey.”

She obeys, poised even in defeat, lowering herself into the seat with the confidence that was bred into her from birth. Preston slides a copy of the contract over to her, and she leafs through it with disinterest.

“I just don’t see why there has to be a marriage clause in the will.”

The woman has a point. My guess? Because our fathers have always wanted to play matchmaker when it came to us. They’ve paired us together since we were in diapers. Hell, we even have an old photo of us in full wedding apparel at a fake wedding from some twenty years ago.

“I’ve explained this, darling. It’s the only way we keep the company in the family. I thought that’s what you wanted . . . a chance to run this place someday.”

“I do, Dad,” she says softly. Then her eyes lift to mine. “I just didn’t think I’d be forced into something like this.”

“No one’s forcing you,” I say, keeping my tone light as I lace my fingers behind my head. “The choice is yours, Selena. I already told you, I’m game.”

She chews on her red lacquered thumbnail for just a second before folding her hands in her lap and shooting me an icy glare. “I’m quite aware of your position.”

Hell, at least she’s willing to hear us all out again. I know that deep down, she understands our fathers’ rationale. We’re stronger together. Our families built this company together. Neither of us can afford to buy the other out, so it needs to stay jointly fifty-fifty within the family. For now.

But for me, it’s about more than just money. Selena and I grew up together; our parents always envisioned us ending up together. I always knew she’d be somewhere in my future, even if it was just working side by side, with her busting my balls every chance she got. It was something I looked forward to.

Fred continued. “Trust and loyalty are the most important things in business. We can’t go getting into bed with someone we don’t know. We have to keep all of this in this room. Just between family.”

Selena sighs, giving him a skeptical look. “I’ll think about it.”

At least it wasn’t a flat no this time, even if her tone is still sour.

Prescott lets out an annoyed huff. “We’ll meet again on Thursday.”

She stuffs the contract in her bag and rises from the table, seemingly in a hurry to escape. “Until then.”

“Thank you for keeping an open mind,” her father says. “These things have a way of working themselves out in ways you can’t anticipate.”

I accept Fred and Prescott’s good-bye handshakes. When Selena’s turn comes, she thrusts her hand at me, clearly wanting to just get this over with . . . and I have a flash of wicked inspiration. Maybe I should shake things up. Test how thick her icy shell really is.

Holding her gaze, I raise her hand to my mouth and kiss it. “A pleasure doing business with you . . . Mrs. Tate,” I tease in a husky voice, letting my lips graze her knuckles.

Her eyes widen and she sucks in her breath. Is it my imagination, or do her cheeks look a little pinker than before? But before I can be sure, her expression hardens into a death glare.

Snatching back her hand, she snaps, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I haven’t agreed to marry you yet, and even if I do, I’m never taking your last name.”

And then she’s gone, leaving me standing there with a stupid grin on my face.

“I’ve seen that look before,” Fred says with a small smile. “You’re in trouble, son.”

I laugh off his warning. There’s no way Selena Cane will ever have me wrapped around her finger.

Yet her unique sweetness lingers in my nostrils. She must have dabbed that intoxicating scent on her wrist, so close to my nose when I kissed her hand. I can still feel her soft, smooth skin on my lips. Such a small intimacy—just brushing her as I spoke—shouldn’t have spread this tingle over me. But there’s no denying that this room has become a few degrees too warm.

This is going to be interesting. Hell, it may even be fun.

Chapter Two

Selena

Camryn almost spills her pear mojito and gasps. “You have to do what? With who?”

Nodding grimly, I take a fortifying gulp of sangria. Just explaining this whole harrowing situation makes me feel like I’m going crazy.

We’re eating lunch at a table for two at Banderilla, our favorite tapas bar in all of Manhattan. This restaurant has been our go-to hangout spot since we were college roommates.

We’ve talked over countless decisions here. Whether I should break up with my shitty first boyfriend (I did), whether Camryn should give her anal virginity to her wannabe musician boyfriend (she did), if we should get matching friendship tattoos (I chickened out), whether she should accept Tate & Cane’s job offer after the internship I hooked her up with (she did).

But this decision is probably the biggest of my life. I need my best friend’s coolheaded advice now more than ever.

Camryn heaves a sympathetic sigh. “Jesus. I knew the company wasn’t doing so hot, but I had no idea just how much trouble we were in.”

“Yeah, turns out we should have invested more in social media.”

Like all the other big marketing firms. Dad had stuck to his guns with old strategies, and now clients thought we were a dinosaur.

“So, what do you think I should do about this contract?” I ask her again. I try not to sound impatient, but my head has been spinning ever since Dad announced his retirement—and I learned exactly what I’d need to do to take his place.

“Let me make sure I understand. You need to inherit and unfuck T&C, or else the board will pawn it off. Before the next financial quarter.”

“Yep.”

“But Bill Tate’s will says you can’t inherit until you marry his son.”

“Uh-huh.”

She sucks her teeth. “So . . . down the aisle in a matter of days, huh? Sounds like the board is the rock and Tate’s will is the hard place.”

“Exactly.” Although it’s Justin’s hard place that I really need to worry about right now. “And between the two, my personal life’s about to get smashed into dust.”

“I didn’t know you had a personal life.” She holds up one hand at my exasperated glare. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Sorry.”

“No, you’re right. I don’t really.” I sigh heavily. “But damn it, why should I give up what little I have? It’s not fair. At the end of a long workday, I want to come home to my own space for some peace and quiet.”

Not to mention wine. And ice cream. And drowning out the silence with crappy TV so I can’t start thinking about how lonely I am.

“I couldn’t stand having that jerk in my face 24–7. I’d put up with him all day at work, and then I’d have to see his dirty socks everywhere.” Fuck no.

“Who says you have to share your space?”

I snort as I lift a forkful of papas bravas to my mouth. “A husband and wife who don’t live together? Yeah, that’d look just great for publicity.” One of many reasons why Dad would never let me hear the end of it.

Camryn shrugs, her palms turned up. “My point is, you don’t necessarily have to lose your whole life.”

“Just the parts with independence and privacy.”

“Come on, try to think about the situation like any other business move. This marriage is just a piece of paper. After you and Justin deal with the big picture, you can negotiate the details like adults and find something you can both live with. You two are on the same page here—making a huge personal sacrifice to save your company.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Justin seems way more into the idea than me. He was on board from the very beginning.”

I rub my hand where he kissed it, thinking about the husky way he murmured Mrs. Tate. His idea of matrimony clearly isn’t very holy.

Camryn raises one perfectly waxed eyebrow. “Oh? You think he likes the idea of sharing a bed with you?”

“I think he likes sharing a bed with anything that has a pulse.”

Although his playboy ways make it seem even odder that he’s so eager to tie himself down. Uh, that was a poor choice of words. But who’s to say he won’t just keep sleeping around?

Like Camryn said, this marriage is strictly business. A mere legal formality. And Justin would probably explode if he went more than a week without pussy.

I may be the boss’s daughter, but I still overhear my fair share of office gossip. Justin nailed all six interns last summer. He’s also slept with various secretaries over the years, and everyone just turned a blind eye. Boys will be boys . . .

Well, playtime is over. If he expects to turn this company around, we’ve got our work cut out for us.

“But how do you feel about all this? Justin Tate is pretty fucking hot.”

“Camryn . . .” I groan.

“What? I have working eyeballs. His hotness is an objective fact. Just like the pope being Catholic and carbs making you fat. He just is. Would it really be so bad to see him naked?” Her sly smile says she’s suggesting a lot more than just looking. “As long as we’re weighing the pros and cons here . . .”

I pause to consider the image, then grudgingly admit, “No.”

In fact, it would probably be pretty damn fantastic. I’ve already gotten a preview of his toned body, firm chest, and six-pack abs. Whenever our families summered together in the Hamptons, he took every opportunity to strut around shirtless. Hell, when I was nineteen, I came close to fucking him. But I was young and stupid and horny back then. Now I’m older, wiser . . . and still incredibly horny. Damn it.

It’s ridiculous how easily Justin grabs my attention. The smallest thing he does can leave me flustered. Like at the close of our business meeting yesterday. Just as a bare-bones courtesy, the most brusque good-bye possible, I stuck out my hand at him—only for Justin to bow slightly and raise it to his mouth for a lingering kiss.

“A pleasure doing business with you . . . Mrs. Tate,” he teased in a husky voice.

My mouth went dry and my stomach fluttered. Or maybe that flutter was somewhere a bit south of my stomach. I suddenly remembered exactly how many years, months, days, and hours it had been since I’d last gotten laid.

I tried to recover. Who the hell did he think he was? We were standing in a Madison Avenue skyscraper, not a sixteenth-century castle. This was wildly inappropriate workplace behavior. I could slap his tight ass with a harassment suit if I wanted. Instead, I just gave the cocky bastard a death glare and the iciest retort I could think of.

But it was too late. There was no denying my body’s reaction. The red-hot shiver that had run down my spine when his soft, full lips touched my knuckles, brushing my skin as he spoke.

Even now, I find myself replaying the image of Justin Tate gazing up at me with a sinful smirk, his dark eyes alight . . .

I shake away the steamy memory. So what if Justin knows how to flirt like the shameless manwhore he is? Schmoozing is all he’s good for. And handsome men are a dime a dozen, especially in New York. Hell, a fifty-dollar vibrator could do his job, and I wouldn’t have to listen to its bullshit. I didn’t bust my ass in business school just to become Justin’s little woman.

Then again, I also didn’t bust my ass in business school to watch my father’s company go down the drain, either.

My thoughts sober me, cooling my anger into melancholy. I spent my childhood in my father’s office, playing at his feet while he steered a financial ship of thousands. All children think of their parents as gods, and I was no exception. Even since I took my place at his right hand, with my own voice in the family business, I still respect him more than any other man.

0 notes

dailyaudiobible · 7 years

Text

02/18/2017 DAB Transcript

Leviticus 6:1-7:27 ~ Mark 3:7-30 ~ Psalm 37:1-11 ~ Proverbs 10:3-4

Today is February 18th. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I'm Brian. It's great to be here with you today from the rolling hills of Tennessee, and wherever you are, I hope it's a lovely morning or afternoon or evening and that you’ve come here to just unplug from everything else that is going on and center yourself in the rhythm that we have as a community based on a step a day in the word of God.

So we’re in the book of Leviticus. We were talking about the different sacrifices yesterday and how to embrace this, so we move back into the things that God is telling his chosen people that form and create the culture that they live in. We’re reading from the Holman Christian Standard Bible this week. We’ve been doing that all this week. Here we are at the end of another week already and we’ll move on to another translation tomorrow, but for today, Leviticus chapter 6, verse 1 through 7:27.

Commentary

A couple things. Jesus, in the book of Mark, appoints his apostles, his disciples, the 12 and then he is healing people and throwing out evil spirits and the religious leaders come and essentially say he is possessed himself, he is possessed by the devil himself. He drives out demons by the ruler of demons. This is where Jesus says, “look, listen, that doesn’t make any sense. Right? How can a kingdom divided against itself go forward forcefully? That is civil war. If a house is divided against itself, that house can’t stand. So if I'm throwing out demons because I'm demon-possessed, how does that make any sense?”

Then Jesus talks about what, as a kid, I was told was the unpardonable sin, blaspheming against the Holy Spirit. Man, all of my childhood I always was worried that I had somehow done that and I was doomed. But I didn’t know what it was. It was just this esoteric thing out there. What is that? What is the one thing you can do that you cannot be forgiven for? Jesus was telling the religious leaders who were making these accusations against him that this is what they were doing. They were blaspheming against the Holy Spirit by calling the Holy Spirit within Jesus Beelzebul, an unclean spirit. They were declaring the Holy Spirit an unclean spirit. That is blasphemy. Once I realized that, it was like, okay, well I would never call the Holy Spirit an unclean spirit. But I can tell you something that Jesus said is unforgiveable. That is when we withhold forgiveness ourselves.

Jesus said if we won't forgive, then we won't be forgiven. That is a big deal, because this good Holy Spirit of the living God is within us and we have been forgiven much, but when we are withholding forgiveness, then we are bringing that spirit of God and essentially saying ‘you do not have the final authority in my life.’ Friends, the sobering reality is that is blasphemy. Anytime we are operating out of our own strength and will in rebellion to God, we are denying with our very actions the Holy Spirit within.

May we contemplate that as I re-read a bit of the psalm today, because David lays out the posture of heart we must have:

Do not be agitated by evil-doers. Do not envy those who do wrong. They will wither quickly like grass and wilt like tender green plants. Trust in the Lord and do what is good. Dwell in the land and live securely. Take delight in the Lord and he will give you your heart's desires. Commit your way to the Lord. Trust in him and he will act, making your righteousness shine like the dawn, your justice like the noonday. Be silent before the Lord and wait expectantly for him. Do not be agitated by one who prospers in his way, by the man who carries out evil plans. Refrain from anger and give up your rage. Do not be agitated. It can only bring harm. For evildoers will be destroyed, but those who put their hope in the Lord will inherit the land. A little while and the wicked person will be no more. Though you look for him, he will not be there. But the humble will inherit the land and will enjoy abundant prosperity.

Prayer

Father, this is sobering. This is sobering because it really does touch every thought, word, and deed of our lives. It very clearly shows us that this faith journey that we’re taking, it's not a little stroll. It's an all or nothing proposition. It consumes us entirely. It binds us to you in ways that there is no way to find where you begin and we end. We are intertwined and we are on a mission in this world to reclaim what has been lost for thousands of years, to bring your kingdom, to be your kingdom. We didn’t sign up to get a free pass from hell. You have invited us to offer our lives as a living sacrifice. We no longer have to offer you sacrifices. We are the sacrifice, our lives poured out for you, to you, because of you, in hope of you, in faith of you. And in return you have given us your Holy Spirit that animates the trajectory of our days. So we give you this day and offer it to you as a living sacrifice. Come Holy Spirit. Well up within us, we ask in the powerful and strong name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements

Www.DailyAudioBible.com is home base. It's the website and it's where you find out what is going on around here. Mostly we’re talking about the More Gathering that is coming up. I encourage you, ladies, if you can get there, you will not regret it. So all of the details that you would want to know you can find at www.DailyAudioBible.com and we will all look forward to seeing you in early April in the mountains of Georgia. So check that out.

If you are willing to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, if Daily Audio Bible and the community that we are is life-giving to you, then thank you for helping us keep it going. This has always been a community affair, a family affair. Things that we’ve done, we’ve done together. Thank you for your partnership. There is a link on the home page of www.DailyAudioBible.com. If you're using the app, you can push the More button in the lower right-hand corner. Or if you prefer, the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996, Spring Hill, TN 37174.

And, 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. I’ll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer Requests and Praise Reports

Hi, this is Kelly from Pennsylvania. I have not called in over a year and I listen to all the prayers and I pray in quiet in my own car on my long commute to work every single morning, so I just felt like I really needed to call in and pray for a couple people. Patricia in New Orleans, I’ve been praying for you for a very long time and I'm so sorry that the oppression against you has not ceased. I am so sorry that you are still suffering and I will continue to pray for you, Patricia. I will pray for you against the oppression and I just wish I could give you a hug, Patricia. I'm also praying for Rebecca in Michigan. Rebecca, I pray for you a lot. I think about you a lot and I pray that God will just lead you to where he wants you to be, where you can minister to him and to his people. I pray that he will give you ways in which you use the gifts that you have and, whatever he does, I pray that he will give you a feeling of being content in whatever job you may get, whatever change may be coming, that you will thrive and that you will be full of joy. Finally, Jacqueline, Salvation is Mine, I hope that you’re recent surgery went well. I know it has got to be terrifying coming up to your new surgery. I really pray that God will surround you with real physical people who can help you through your next recovery. Again, I love you all. I pray for you all even though I never call, so if you don’t hear your name, I'm sitting here in my car praying.

Hi family. Drew from the Bay Area. I want to first say thank you for all your prayers, Abba, Father of the Most High, with the Father of the Most High. Thank you so much for your prayer and I am going through the smoke and I’ve been through this smoke before. This smoke is, yes, to protect us, but more importantly, it is show us that we have nothing to fear, that beyond the smoke there is no fire. Having gone through so many things, I should know this, but I don’t. I still try to go on my own strength and I'm so happy for your prayers, Salvation is Mine. It brought tears to me. I’ve got to go into work now and the Lord showed me I'm just to wait. Wait on him and not wait patiently, but wait as the best wait you’ve ever had in your life is to do the right things. I just love you guys. One of my managers told me I have no friends and not to trust anybody where I work. That hurt. And I think that was directly from the enemy. I don’t believe that. But you are my friends, you are my family and I love you and I pray for all of you and I pray without ceasing. Sometimes I just want to rest and then something comes to my mind and I'm praying for one of you. I love you. I love you. You are loved.

Lord of heaven and earth, I pray for men. I pray especially for men today. We struggle with anger, with fear, with self-esteem issues and any other defect or sin that sends them into a tirade, that sends them into tantrums, that sends them into anger, to sin. Lord of heaven and earth, I pray that you put in them the spirit of humility and meekness and understanding that they, that we men are powerless over our anger and our rage, save you, O God of heaven, for only you can bring us into the peace and the stillness that you want us to be in. So I pray for men today. Men out there, seek God first. Seek God first for wisdom. Seek God first for peace. Seek God first for love and all things will be added to that, that you, men, we men will walk this earth with peace and humility, kindness and love for their fellow brothers, men, and towards our sisters and wives and the women of this world. I ask all this in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Howdy DAB family. This is Darin from College Station, TX. Calling asking for some urgent prayer for myself. I'm going through a pretty strong bout of depression that leads to insomnia and where I can’t sleep, so I'm in this cycle of can’t sleep, can’t eat and no motivation to improve or get things done. It's a cycle that I’ve been in for about four months right now and previously in the past two years I’ve gone through bouts of depression as well. I just need help. I need prayer that I hear God's word and that I follow it, because right now I'm not following anything. I appreciate you all's prayers. Thank you.

Hi, my name is Patrick S. and I'm from San Clemente, CA and I’ve been listening to the Daily Audio Bible for probably seven years now. And this is only the second time that I’ve called in. Forgive me if I don’t make it through this. I'm having a tough day today. I was injured in a spinal cord injury accident 20 years ago and because of that, I have just really terrible neuropathic pain, to the point that a lot of days it is difficult to get out of bed and because of that, I had to take a lot of pain medication over the years and I'm going off that medication now because it's messed up my stomach in a pretty bad way. I’ve lost a lot of weight and I could really use your prayers not only for me, but for my wife and my 9-year-old son. It's just been really difficult as we don’t know what the solution is and need some guidance from God to know where to turn next. I don’t want to run out of time. I thank you for your prayers and love you guys. I think you're an amazing community.

Hi Dabbers. This is He has Shown Me Mercy in Colorado. I wanted to reach out and pray on behalf of those who are experiencing despair, depression or just the numbness that Salvation is Mine spoke of recently. So let's pray. Sovereign Lord, you are a loving Father. You are a good Father and it is not your will for your children to be in despair or to feel disconnected from you in any way. You want us to experience joy, not just happiness which is temporary, but the joy that only comes from knowing you. Your word says that when the righteous call out to you for help, that you hear us and deliver us from our troubles. And that you are near to the broken-hearted and you save the crushed in spirit. Father, we just pray for all of those who are experiencing this hopelessness and despair and just ask that you just send your Holy Spirit to give them your comfort and hope. We pray especially for those who are feeling disconnected from you because of sin in their lives, either past or present. Lord, we just want you to remind them that you forgive and you save. Again, your word tells us that we may draw near to the throne of grace boldly with confidence that we may receive mercy and find grace in times of need. Lord, help us all to find daily renewed life in you. We ask this with the precious blood of your son, Jesus. Amen.

0 notes