#and so beautiful Jesus I wish I could do effects like this?

[wishingprince]

rereading and obsessing about Tsubasa Chronicles in the year 2024 - god I was so blinded by my love for Syaoran that I completely missed how fucking amazing Fai is. 😭😭😭

#prince text #prince reads Tsubasa chronicles #and dies about kurofai and Fai in particular #god this series is so so good #and so beautiful Jesus I wish I could do effects like this?

[kteezy997]

can i please request a shy bf!timmy with needy and unhinged reader

he‘s just overall really shy, always nervous when he tries to initiate intimacy. reader on the other hand is open about everything, her desire, her masturbation habits and her dirty dirty thoughts. she’s not afraid to let him know the effect he has on her. she’d use it against him, telling him how she‘s going to get herself off when he‘s busy. maybe even nudes, lewd pictures and videos she takes just for him.

Shy Boyfriend-Part One//t.c.

A/N: I’m not going to include specific warnings right now, if you read the anon request, you know that this is filled with smut. It’s quite explicit, so 18+ readers only. Thank you!

Timmy was so sweet, hot, and such a doting boyfriend. But, he was always nervous when it came to sex.

You, on the other hand, wanted it all the time. So, you thought of ways to get him to feel more confident. You wanted him to know that you desired him madly and thought about him day and night. You wanted to do all the dirty things with him. You decided to be completely open and honest with him about your sexual aptitudes.

"I masturbate every day thinking about you." you told him quietly at dinner one night.

Timmy's eyes nearly popped out of his skull, and he looked around, hopeful that no one else in the rather crowded restaurant didn't hear what you had said. "Re-really?" he squeaked.

"Yeah, sometimes multiple times a day." you leaned forward, your elbows on the table, your cleavage in plain view for him. "Sometimes I do it while on breaks at work."

"Jesus." his eyes meandered down to your tits. "You're serious?" he asked, returning his gaze to your eyes.

"Of course. I never lie to you, Timothee." You leaned back in your chair, and picked up your glass of champagne, taking a sip. "I wish this was your cum." you said, raising the glass to him.

Your waitress came over just then, hearing what you had to say. Timmy let out a fake cough to distract from your dirty words.

The waitress set down your plates, not saying anything, but you did get to exchange a knowing, mischievous look with her. You watched as she eyed your handsome boyfriend. Timmy was the type of beauty that made people look at him a little longer than usual. You couldn't blame the girl as she scanned him up and down in passing.

You often wondered if Timmy actually knew how others found him so desirable. It was kind of hot how oblivious he acted to extra attention and kindness he got from people he didn't even know. Everyone loved him, women, men, young, old, it didn't matter. Even now you caught some of the fellow diners in the restaurant cutting their eyes at him.

The next day was long and boring as Timmy was at work for like 16 hours straight. You knew that work was important to him, of course, but you missed your man. You found yourself scrolling through your camera roll, which consisted almost exclusively of Timmy pictures.

Some photos were innocent selfies of your two together, some were candid shots you took because you couldn't resist. Then there were the NSFW ones that he and you both took during sex. You flipped through them, getting turned on looking at him naked. His skin was light, smooth, and beautiful, his hair a mess, his lips curved into a cheeky grin in one instance.

You came across a video of him fucking you doggystyle. It was your favorite position, so he fucked you that way often. You could hear his soft moans, his heavy breathing, and you could see the little beads of sweat on his hairline as he pushed his curls out of his face. Your pussy started to ache and throb the more you delved into the album.

You needed to talk to him; you needed him to know what he was doing to you. He didn’t even need to be near you to drive you crazy.

You decided to text him to start out: I've been thinking about you

aw, I've been thinking about you too. He replied a few minutes later.

I can't stop thinking about last night, baby. The nipple you bit still hurts. Did you know you left a mark? You smirked, thinking that definitely should get him flustered.

Oh?

yeah, wanna see?

yes. his response was quick on that one.

You giggled, and tugged the front of your top down, letting your boob plop out. You weren't lying, his teeth had marked the circumference of your nipple. You snapped a photo and sent it to him.

Fuck. his response was simple.

Will you kiss it when you get home, to make it feel better?

You could just picture him trying to keep his cool while opening the text at work. His throat drying, trying to swallow, biting his lip as he looked around to make sure no one else could see the photo you sent. You imagined him getting hard, but having to tuck his cock into his belt so his boner wouldn't show.

yes.

I want you to suck them for me, will you do that?

of course. he sent back, immediately.

You wanted to take it up a notch. You had to be bolder. I want you to send me a photo of your dick.

no way, baby, I can't do that.

You were quite disappointed, but horny, so you had to work harder for what you wanted. you sent him pouty face emojis and texted: but why?

because I'm at work, silly girl. you'll see me later. I promise I'll take care of you and make up for biting too hard.

His promise turned you on even more. How dare he! You were feeling especially bratty and needy, so you responded: no! I want to see your cock now

baby, I told you I can't. I'm working, princess.

You loved how endearing he was and how he used little pet names for you. But you were getting frustrated.

fine, but maybe I can send something to get you change your mind?

something… like what?

You proceeded to leaving your boyfriend hanging for a while. You removed all of your clothes, set up your phone to frame the scene perfectly, and spread your legs for the camera. You were soaking wet already, and your fingers glided along your pussy easily.

"Mm, Timmy." you purred his name, imagining his fingers were in place of yours. You used your fingertips to rub your swelling clit. The wet sounds pierced your ear drums and you knew that they would be audible through the video you were recording.

You palmed your breasts, cried his name again, and pinched your nipples. "I want you to fuck me, baby. Please, please, give me that big cock. I need it." you whimpered. You spread your labia with one hand and with the other, you tapped your clit. You giggled at the feeling.

With both hands, you stimulated your clit, and pushed a finger into your hole. "Ughhh." you moaned. You leaned your head back, licking your lips. Your fingers were no match for Timmy's cock, but it was the best you were going to get right now.

You picked up the pace, fingering yourself harder and faster. You moaned and whimpered his name over and over. You pumped your fingers as fast as you could, and you trembled, your body shaking as you came. You panted softly as you came down from the high, and you grinned at the camera.

You sent the video to Timmy, and you felt much better after an orgasm. You were able to relax and watch some TV as you waited for him to respond.

It was maybe an hour later, and you received a video from Timmy.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt @ducktapebar

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee x reader #timothée imagine #timothee chalamet smut #timothée chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee fanfic

[iamtheholyghost]

My Rebecca Welton x Reader fic is finished!

AO3 link here.

Title: I could do the shit that he never did

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, 18+ ⚠️

Summary: The sun rays hit Rebecca's skin as you both lay in her bed. You watched her gently breathing and the beautiful glow on her skin.

Rebecca pulled you into a kiss and you moaned when her hand slid between your legs. You arched your back and your hand gripped her neck while the other held on to her shoulder.

The after effects of the alcohol still lingered and you reached over to grab the glass of water on the side table. The sun rays hit Rebecca's skin as you both lay in her bed. You watched her gently breathing and the beautiful glow on her skin.You gently played with her hair and shuffled closer to her warmth. She stretched out and wrapped her arm around your hip. Rebecca's phone buzzed on her bedside table and she grumbled reaching over to grab it.

"Aw fuck," she said sitting up.

"What's wrong?"

She showed the caller id which read "Keeley" you laughed.

"She set us up and it fucking worked," you chuckled.

"I don't like giving her the satisfaction," Rebecca smirked.

"I'm gonna find my clothes and make up an excuse to work as to why I'm not in the office again," Rebecca smiled in response and stroked your back before you left her bed.

"But you're not working til Monday?"

"Yeah it's to prepare them, I'd rather extend my stay here than go home," You arched your brow and smirked. Rebecca gave you a cheeky grin then focused on her phone.

You heard Keeley's screeching down the phone and laughed. Rebecca of course told her you spent the night. She screeched again and then Rebecca just sighed and said “yes.”

You gathered your clothes and gave your boss a text saying you'd be working from home on Monday. You tossed your phone onto the side table and placed your clothes neatly where you'd find them. You didn't want to get dressed yet. You enjoyed the fact that you and Rebecca were both completely naked, lipstick marks and bites were dotted over your pale skin. Rebecca had some marks on her shoulders and on her chest. You wished you remembered last night more vividly, rather than the random flashbacks.

Rebecca put her phone under her pillow and sighed. You laughed and straddled her, her slender hands slid up and down your waist.

"I say we don't give a shit what people say and we finish what we started last night,"you said in between kisses across her neck.

'Ha, I believe you're the one who finished dear," Rebecca smiled.

"Just means I fucking owe you doesn't it," You bit around her collarbone and down her chest. Rebecca gasped and tried to remain composed.

"Yeah, it does," she grinned. "I do have my own ideas first,"

Her slender fingers pushed between your folds and rubbed teasing circles around your clit.

"God." you moaned.

Rebecca attacked your neck with bites and kisses. You rocked your hips into her hand making soft low moans that made her grin.

"I'm going to make you beg me to make you come, then you can have your fun," Rebecca growled in your ear. The only reply you could muster was rocking your hips harder into her hand. You could feel yourself coating her fingers with each movement of your hips. Rebecca slid two fingers inside you and you gasped, loudly whining into her neck. She dug her nails into your hip as you rocked yourself on top of her.

"Jesus christ, fuck." you panted.

"Are you going to beg me?" Rebecca teased as she pulled you in for a deep kiss still working her fingers between your legs. Rebecca repeated what she said but slowed her movements which caused you to cry out needily.

"No, don't stop." you cried.

Rebecca wrapped her free hand round your throat and sat up so you could use her to balance. It also gave her more control which she wanted. Those manicured fingers dug into your throat slowly and her eyes pierced into yours. The hand between your legs had stopped and you had to give in, you wanted her badly.

"Please 'becca, fuck me," you gasped wrapping your smaller hand around hers.

Rebecca grinned and flipped you over so you were on your back. You took a moment to take in Rebecca's beautiful body, muscular arms, strong shoulders, long legs and incredible breasts. She truly was breathtaking. You went to put your hands between your legs but Rebecca grabbed your wrists pinning them above your head. Her tongue traced over your collarbone slowly and you whined.

"I begged you, what's with the fucking teasing!?" you exclaimed, wriggling underneath the taller woman above.

"I didn't tell you to touch yourself, you didn't get permission so you're being punished for being a bad girl," her silky smooth tone almost melted you and you swear you made a mess of her sheets.

"Fuck," you whined shuffling under her grip.

Rebecca smiled, eyeing the very vulnerable position you were in. Her lips ghosted yours as she took in the situation. You could tell she absolutely loved this, loved being in charge and loved that you did as she asked.

"Leave them there," Rebecca ordered. She let go of your hands, you didn't dare move them. You ached for her touch so badly. She straddled you showing off her beautiful curves. Her green eyes scanned over your body, she took your breasts in her hands and you whined. Her slender fingers kneaded and caressed them. She took great pleasure in teasing your hardening nipples. Rebecca attacked your neck with bites and sloppy open mouthed kisses marking her territory.

"You fuckin' marking me huh?" you grinned though shaking breaths.

"You're full of attitude this morning aren't you?" Rebecca grinned resting her forehead on yours. "What if I don't let you come and I make you watch me? You watch me touch and moan but you have to go the whole day unsatisfied and dripping, with no release," Rebecca sneered. She had such a sinister tone to her voice and pressed light kisses to your neck.

Rebecca sat up right, adjusting her position. Those muscly thighs squeezing your body a few times while she straddled you. Her hand dipped between her long legs as she started to moan. Fuck she looked utterly gorgeous.

"Can I touch you, please, Rebecca?" you asked. It took everything you could not to touch yourself or her without permission. Rebecca grinned and gasped as her long fingers worked between her folds.

"Move your hands to my hips."

You did as she asked and placed them on her body, her soft skin and beautiful shape under your touch. You watched in awe as Rebecca moved her fingers through her folds moaning and shuffling on top of you. You almost lost your mind when she bit her bottom lip. You wanted to taste her again, it would take your mind away from the aching between your legs. You could hear how wet Rebecca was by the motion of her fingers, moving around her and sliding inside her. She gasped and grabbed her boob. You dug your fingers into her hips, tightening your grip possibly leaving marks.

"Bite me," she gasped repositioning so you could get into the soft flesh of her breasts.

You didn't need to be told twice, you nibbled at her skin and used your tongue to sooth the gentle bites and Rebecca moaned deeply. You sucked and bit being careful not to leave any marks. You sucked on her hard nipples hearing a low moan that escaped her parted lips.

"Can I cup your face?" you muttered on her skin.

"Yes," she gasped. You could feel the breathy moans building up and the changes in her demeanour as she started to give into her pleasures. Her green eyes half lidded and how she bit her bottom lip. She was utterly gorgeous and you wanted to help guide her to orgasm no matter what. You cupped her face and worked biting kisses along her jawline and down her throat being sure to bite harder when her moans got louder.

"Fuck, I'm close," Rebecca groaned, her hand working harder between her legs as she rubbed her now throbbing bud.

"Let me help you," you said.

You latched onto her nipple again, biting harder. You were sure you'd leave marks but you didn't care now. You wanted her to finish.

"Oh my god, fuck," Rebecca gasped. Her whole body tensed as the warm feeling shot through her body. You felt her wetness on your skin and you'd be lying if it didn't make you crave your finish more. You held her face and let her slowly come down from her high. She gave you a pleasant smile and you kissed her softly on the lips. You pulled Rebecca into you so your chests were pressed together as she caught her breath. You drew patterns across her soft skin.

"You are so gorgeous Rebecca,"

"So are you," Rebecca smiled. She sat up and ran her hands up your thighs to your hips and your ribs stopping when she reached your neck pulling you into a deep tongue kiss. You moaned into her mouth digging your nails down her back rocking your hips into her body trying to gain any kind of friction.

"Please." you muttered.

"What was that?" Rebecca grinned.

"Please!" you huffed. "Fuck me."

"That's what I thought," Rebecca made her way down your body kissing and biting. You groaned at the contact and tangled your hands in her blonde locks. She parted your legs gripping your inner thighs and grinned at your soaked folds.

"Didn't think seeing me orgasm on you would have this effect."

"Yes, you did. " you breathed.

Rebecca arched her brow and you avoided her gaze. You just needed her to touch you. Her tongue lightly traced across your folds. Your hips bucked into her mouth immediately, you were desperate and she could tell. Her mouth latched onto your swollen clit and you let out a scream of Rebecca's name. Fuck finally she was giving you what you wanted. Two of her fingers slid inside you with ease and you rocked against her rhythm. You could hear how wet you were and Rebecca lapped up every drop of you. You were wound up so tight, it didn't take you long to finish.

"Oh my god, oh my god," you panted as the warm feeling spread through every nerve and your eyes shut tight. Rebecca rode out the wave with you until you were nothing but a sweating panting mess beneath her. She wiped her mouth and you grabbed her hand, sucking her fingers clean. She grinned while you did it and drew patterns across your stomach.

Rebecca pulled you on top of her and you pressed a lazy kiss to her lips. She kissed you harder and you let her explore your mouth. The kissing turned to lazy makeouts, you broke the kiss to snuggle into the nape of her neck. She rested her hands on your hips and drew patterns across your back.

"Holy fuck, you're amazing," you smiled.

"Plenty more where that came from darling," Rebecca grinned stroking your hair.

A/N I had this thought that Rebecca would be such a tease and love it. Of course she’s got her dom boss energy.

#rebecca welton #rebecca welton x reader #ted lasso #rebecca welton fics

[cocogrrrl]

cause and effect

turns out the repercussions of kenny's immortality is more than either of you can possibly fathom. frankly, it terrifies him.

kenny x gn!reader cw: breakdowns, loss of memory, mentions of scars (focused on) wc: 1389

an: based on my hc that every time kenny is revived he looks slightly different, retains scars, and memory is a lil messed up 😇 shoutout to my boo boo cakes/arch enemy cinn-anon 🧍‍♂️🎗 for carrying the plot!!

You can’t really say you enjoy just one part of Kenny.

I mean, of course, you loved every inch of him, but a part that came to his powers was that he looked different every time he came back from the dead.

You felt guilty, but you don’t think you could even recall what he looked like the first time you two met.

Or when he asked you out.

Or when you guys had your first date.

Or when you shared your first kiss.

He always rocked his messy blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. Asides from that, nothing else remained consistent with his appearance.

Some days freckles would cover his face. On other days he’d some awful stubble growing on his chin. There was one time he was shorter than you. Another time his teeth were awfully sharp.

All you had to remind yourself of what he looked like were old pictures you had on your phone or photographed lying somewhere in your room.

Despite how often his appearance will change, you were certain that each time he was just as beautiful as the last.

Now you’re lying in your room, idly waiting for him to come. Had he passed recently? Yes, but you were sure he’d always come back.

As you expected, you heard a familiar set of knocks on your door.

“Hi, Ken,” you smiled, quickly pulling him into a tight hug. It’s been about a few days since you’ve seen him.

He looks different, as per usual. There was nothing of note for you to take notice of. Maybe it’s because you've seen him in so many different ways that any change was normal to you now.

“Hey, sugar,” he hummed, combing his fingers through your scalp mindlessly.

“I missed you.”

“You know I do too.”

⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

“I got this one when I was a kid. I got stabbed by a cult leader!” Kenny beamed, his fingers grazing over the faded scar on his chest that was adjacent to where his heart is.

One more thing about Kenny’s appearance is that the scars he would obtain from his gruesome deaths would appear every time he’s revived. Not all of them were etched onto him, but there were still a lot of marks that littered his body. Currently, you two were looking at said marks in the comfort of your bed.

“What?” That was the only thing you said in reply. Did you hear that correctly? You knew he often got in weird situations, but this was just concerning. 

“Yeah, it’s a long story.” He said, laughing your worry off.

“I wonder how you even get into these types of,” you paused, trying to find the best word to describe Kenny’s unfortunate predicament. “Misfortunes so often?” Misfortune was likely not the word you were looking for. It felt too soft. Tragedy is the word you should’ve used.

“Wish I could tell you that.” He sighed the faintest hint of exhaustion underneath his breath. ”I was pretty reckless as a kid, but my friends were more so.” 

“How so?” You hummed, burying your head in the space where his neck and shoulder met.

“It was Stan, I think? Definitely not Kyle. Maybe it was Cartman.” He spoke slowly, trying to recall the memory as he told you what it was. ”Basically, I have this friend who tried resisting an arrest back in 4th or 5th grade.”

“For what exactly?” 

“He kidnapped another friend, not sure who, so that he can have dinner with us or something.”

“Jesus.” You mumbled. You knew that some of his friends were rough, but this wild this early?

“Yeah, I can’t really seem to remember the story. It’s weird because I was there when it happened.” He was more caught up in his thoughts now than invested to tell you the story.

“I mean, a lot of things happened when you were younger, so I don’t think it’s impossible for you to have not forgotten that.”

“No, but I swear. I used to be able to recall that to every single detail.” You could hear a hint of dread and terror in his voice, but you didn’t want to press on the wound. You were scared you might make things worse.

“Babe, it’s alright.” You reassured him, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Let me excuse myself really quick, hold on.” He said, entangling himself from your embrace. You were a little worried, but you let him go ahead.

You didn’t pay too much mind to it, just finding the pillows and sheet on your bed a lot warmer. The emptiness only felt a lot more concerning when he spent a rather long time in your restroom. It didn’t alarm you, but it did worry you.

You walked to the door, knocking on it. “Kenny? Are you okay?” To your surprise, the door knob was unlocked. “I’m coming in.” You said, opening the door.

You found him on the tiled floor, a few tears streaking his face. You weren’t sure if he didn’t hear you or if he meant for you to come in.

“Dear, what’s wrong?” You cooed, finding yourself kneeling beside him and pulling him into a hug.

His eyes were only focused on his scars. “How can you even love me?”

“What do you mean?” You raised a brow.

There was hesitance in the way he moved. “I look different every time I come back, and I can’t help but feel bad for you. Sometimes it feels like I’m not the same person you fell in love with. I don’t think I have an idea what I’m supposed to look like.

“I think I’ve lost my memories because of all the times I died. YN, what if I forget about you? Or Karen? Clearly, I’m already losing my best friends. I don’t think I could handle losing you two, though.” He choked out, arms snaking around your waist as he held on to you tightly—like you were about to disappear into thin air.

“I’m not sure how you love me. I don’t even look like the person I was a few days ago.”

His words were spoken with bated breath. You could just feel the tension and worry coming from him. 

You were only looking at him while he was focused on himself. You felt his confession tug at your heartstrings. You didn’t think Kenny would actually keep his feelings from you. He was usually honest and happy with you.

Apparently not, but that didn’t upset you or break your trust. You were just glad he was even okay to open up to you about this.

“But that’s the thing.” 

“Huh?” He breathed, turning his gaze back to you.

You find yourself tracing the some of scars that covered his back as he basked himself in your touch. “I’ll be honest with you: I don’t care what you look like. I don’t care if you show up one day on my doorstep with a different nose or something. All I know is that I’ll love every version of you no matter what you’re like, yeah?” You whispered, lips barely grazing his as you straddled him with his head in the palm of your hands.

“If you’re scared that you’ll forget any of us, just know that we’ll be here to guide you. For every memory of yours that might fade, we’ll always make a new one. Whether you forget us or not, we’ll be here to stick beside you.”

He only looked at you in silence for a few moments. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking at that moment. “YN?”

“Yeah?”

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Instantly, you felt your lips curl up into a smile you know you’d have no chance of holding back.

“Yeah,” you answered, a tiny giggle coming out of your lips as you did. ”But I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of it.”

“Well, I love you then.” He spoke, leaning in to close the very small gap between you two. You quickly pulled back after a brief second.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first. You can love me later. You’re all sweaty.” You laughed, giving him a smile and a squeeze on the hand. All he did was nod and smile, gratefulness hinting at the glimmer of his eyes.

#cocogrrrl's writing #south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kenny x reader #kenny mccormick x you #kenny mccormick x y/n #kenny mccormick x reader

[under-olympos-bodhi-tree]

On Xenia, Missionary Work, and Living in a Broken World

I'm still getting used to writing these blogs, but I had something nagging at me from earlier today, I hope this essay does it justice. Long post ahead!

A friend of mine, not a close friend but still a friend, works at a sit-down restaurant and has shared difficulties with life and the service industry with me. Earlier, they shared that a Christian group visited their restaurant, ordered notably expensive food including steaks, and were not generally the best customers, but they left a $100 tip to my friend at the end of their stay.

This bill, however, turned out to be fake. On closer examination, it was a concealed note made to look like a $100 bill advertising a local Christian group, informing them that "Jesus is worth more than this bill!" followed by an ad for their congregation. Setting aside that the bill was literally worthless, as it was not worth any money, this... upset me. But let's peel back a little.

A common theme among religions is that the gods show up in the poorest of society. The concept of Xenia in Hellenic Polytheist religious belief and Ancient Greek society is built around the idea that Zeus and any other deity could appear as a poor beggar asking to sleep under your roof in the rain, or at least that they might be watching.

For those who may not see things so literally, it is still fundamentally a religious matter that humans built the world and make it what it is, even if we all still dance to the invisible tune of the Theoi and the Fates, and that we have some kind of a responsibility to build a better world from those who walked before us.

All of that is pretty common among religions, with only the details changing. Buddha lived as an ascetic with his only shelter being a tree where he had his awakening, the ancient Israelis were penniless slaves who were led by Moses who was essentially an exiled refugee, Jesus was a peasant carpenter, etc. The idea that the divine comes to our without money at their lowest is not new.

There is, however, a very toxic mentality that I have mostly observed among preaching and missionary Christian groups. It is that, because Jesus lived without money, that he is the wealth that matters. The idea being that faith in Jesus is the only thing that matters, as someone without him is damned, and the more souls you save by making them realize his supposed trueness makes you a better person by making them realize this, and possibly earns you better brownies in Heaven.

This is, however, disregarding virtually every other cultural experience in exchange for having this world view. Well-adjusted, comfortable and safe communities who worship a different god must obviously be proselytized against in this view of the world, for even the happy and comfortable cannot truly be happy for they do not know the son of your sun god if you seek conversion rates above all else in the mortal world. We have all seen this in effect.

There is a grim cowardice to this entire world view. It is a fundamental unwillingness to see the perspectives of others, to have empathy, and move your mind out of your own head. In this world view, no one who isn't you can be happy and good, all must be bent to your shape to match the perfection that you were so obviously built in.

I was raised Mormon, and this cowardice has been weaponized to an enormous degree by building entire cultural cornerstones by preaching and conversion and proselytization. Those who do not surrender vast sums of money in order to travel to strange places without friends and family purely so they can bother other people with this 'truth' that they do not want... well, to not do it makes you less than a person to the Church, unworthy of the paradise they promise you.

I in no way wish to state that sharing religion is bad. Talking to people that you know, sharing your world view, talking about what you believe, telling them about the beauty of the divine that you have witnessed, all of these I feel are an innate good. But if you see the world narrower than a pinhole, if you believe that every humans who is born, toils and dies under our sun must believe in Jesus and God in order to have a shred of value and thus seek to force it on them by any means necessary, you have perverted the entire arrangement.

Dan Olson did a wonderful documentary on Flat Earth and qAnon in which he stated that to Flat Earthers, they are not simply in ignorance of geography, but that the simple denial of truth is a weapon, a tool, in which they seek to build the world in their image by denial of facts through a force of will to build a metaphorical flat earth in which they are right and their enemies are silent. When you do not seek to enlighten, to share, to learn, and instead seek to use your will, words and resources in order to hammer anyone you ever meet into a familiar shape, to build the good little Christian paradise on Earth that is so clearly strangling those who do not see it as a paradise, you have built a horror.

And it is into this environment that the final horrors take shape. The denial of refugee aid by powerful religious organizations without conversion, the refusal of helping others without getting something in return, the clawing tendrils of rigid enforcement of religion and culture that forces people into your group for fear of leaving it, the refugees and poorest people in my city who were forcefully converted by missionaries in return for food and shelter is the final result of such a narrow world view, in viewing every human as needing to conform to you and your way. This is homousian as the horrors that have ravaged the planet for centuries, that has devastated native cultures, killed generations of queer people, and built the worst of the world.

It is in all of this that the introduction to this essay began. A Hellenic Polytheist, working a thankless job, bringing fine steaks to those who taunted them with fake money while promising that their note had the only thing of value.

What if I told you that my friend was moving away from an abusive lover or parent and desperately needed money for shelter? If they were trying to scrounge together money to pay for insulin without insurance? What if I told you they were paying for an unexpected funeral and were facing the reality of being unable to bury a loved one? What if I told you they had cancer and needed every penny to get surgery and chemotherapy?

Thankfully, they do not have any of these things to my knowledge, and were simply annoyed. But to dangle a religious truth that they are not interested in, teasing them with the money that, to the knowledge of these Christians, may have saved their lives, while taunting them that your carpenter god would cure these things for fealty like a feudal lord, is a vile and small-minded idea. That this person was likely not the sole executor of this evil and likely was simply promised by higher-ups that they were doing good, that they meant well and genuinely thought they were helping, does not decrease the horror of the world and mindset that would create this circumstance. Because next time it will be someone with cancer you yank hope away from.

I hope, dear reader, that you can extract my meaning on the purpose of Xenia, and good deeds from this, and see a small piece of the dark horror that small minds and narrow eyes can build. When Zeus appears at your doorstep dressed as a ascetic beggar, the fact that this beggar may not be Hellenic does not matter. That he may not be your color, or that he may not be healthy, or that he may be different, is not an excuse not to be kind, to think outside of your own experience, and to embrace those who need us the most. Because your $5 and your kindness and understanding to your waiter or barista or your uber driver is far, far more valuable than a pamphlet and a condemnation.

I'd like to send you off with a small story I like about the Buddha. This story is neither historical nor truly about the Buddha, but it is an enlightening tale containing a deep religious truth told through fiction, not unlike our Greek mythology:

While the Buddha meditated beneath his Bodhi tree, searching for truth and enlightenment, he peered beyond the mortal realm and saw a thief in hell who had repented and begged forgiveness. The Buddha, seeing that the man wanted to change, to come back to Samsara and to fight to be a better man, lowered a spider's web into hell for him to climb.

The Thief graciously began climbing up towards the Buddha. However, the other denizens of hell began climbing up after him, and he feared that the delicate spider's web would break and take him back to hell, so he began kicking them off. The spider's web was stronger than the finest steel and could have taken all of them, but his kicking broke it like it was thread.

Be kind, love each other, and always seek a better world.

-Lady Nikki

#hellenic polytheism #dodekatheism #hellenic pagan #pagan #hellenism #zeus deity #xenia #buddhism #dharma #spirituality #philosophy #anti capitalism #anti missionary

[munstysmind]

MUFFIN - Maddison - Shorts and Extras

WARNING/S: none

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

MAIN MASTERLIST

MADDISON MASTERLIST

MADDISON SHORTS AND EXTRAS MASTERLIST

please let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list

* set just after October 9th

Letting out a shaky breath, Maddie grabs Chris’ pillow and hugs it to her chest as she feels the telltale burn of tears starting to form.

She’d just woken with a start and had rolled over to snuggle into him, only to find his side of the bed cold and empty.

It’s the first time he’s not been right there and she doesn’t like it. In fact, she hates it.

Jesus Christ Maddison, stop being so fucking needy she thinks to herself as she hugs his pillow tighter and buries her face in it, his scent filling her nose when she takes a deep breath.

“Morning beautiful” Chris says, pulling her out of her thoughts as he comes into her room.

She lifts her head to see him standing there with a mixed berry muffin and large cold coffee from her favourite bakery a few blocks away.

Now she feels bad for sulking about him not being there, he was getting her breakfast.

She gives him a small smile before pushing his pillow to the side and reaching out to him with both arms, making grabby hands.

He quickly puts her breakfast on the bedside table and climbs in next to her, putting his left arm out so she can curl into his side.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks softly as he starts to slowly run his hand up and down her spine.

She shakes her head and buries her face in his chest, trying to hide the tears as she starts to cry.

“I’m sorry” she gasps, her voice muffled by his chest and her sobs. She feels so guilty crying like this over her ex to Chris. It’s not his fault. Why should he have to put up with it?

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for Mads, not a single thing. It’s OK to feel the way you’re feeling, especially about this” he tells her, threading his fingers through her hair and gently massaging her scalp, his heart aching at how much she’s hurting.

He holds her tightly while she cries, wishing he could make it all stop, that he could take away the effects of what the bastard did to her. If he had the chance he’d switch places with her in an instant.

“I hate feeling like this” she whispers as she looks up at him, her face swollen and patchy.

“I know you do, I’m sorry” he says, gently wiping the damp from one of her cheeks before tapping the tip of her nose, pulling a tiny smile from her.

“Can we stay here today… like this?” she asks, giving him a squeeze as she snuggles into his side even more.

“I like that idea” he tells her, kissing the top of her head.

“Chris…”

“Yes beautiful?”

“Can I have some muffin?”

TAGLIST

@aussieez, @rookiemartin, @babeyyemor, @secretaryunpaid, @pixie88, @chickensarentcheap, @dhoruwolfie, @themaradaniels, @cali-nyc5

#munstysmind #maddison original series #maddison shorts and extras #original series #original character #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans angst

[d-lissa]

Liveblogging TMA - Season 1 - MAG 7-8

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin, If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, Bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,– My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

Dolce et Decorum est, Wilfred Owen

THE PIPER :

... Jesus fucking Christ, this one gave me shivers.

And also a new poet who's writing I went on to read just after finishing the episode, as the quote just above shows. There were definitely some that were more fitted for the episode, but I needed something that could be short and still feel self contained (so no snippet from "Strange Meeting", unfortunately, nor of "Insensibility",) but also impactful on its own.

And impactful, it is. Yes, I understand why this poem is Owen's most famous.

I have a soft spot for poetry, as you may or may have not noticed. I am certainly no expert in the subject, and even less of a writer, but the melody speaks to me.

Still, I have to wonder what the reception of the public was at this episode. I wasn't quite expecting TMA to introduce real life people in the story, or to touch on war and the effects it had on its people. I found the topic handdled delicately enough (tho an eyebrow does quirk a little at the implications of some of this), but I am obviously no veteran, nor do I wish to ever entertain the idea of becoming a soldier, as the earlier snippet may have informed you.

I don't really fancy putting my life on the line, only to be thrown away by my country afterward, if there even is any, thank you very much.

I do posses however a certain admiration for people who did, and so one Sgt. Clarence Berry was probably the first, of the many narrators introduced thus far, to which I have felt emotionally attached to. And, by proxy, to Wilfred Owen.

He has painted such a stark vision of war, one that I could almost feel, despite the minimal amount of details on the situation itself.

The narration of the text only amplified the effect, with Jonathan's voice resonating, as usual with a sombre timbre that felt quite fitting to the tone of the story. Should being the Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute not work out, he should look for work in the audio book industry. I am sure that he would make a killing there.

The Piper was a delight from start to finish. Not much of a mystery here, as much as the personification of war in all its gory glory, though I do wonder about the music the souls soon to be reaped heard before their final moment.

Still, if War is a thing, does that mean there are multiple concepts taken form as well ? Of course, the four of the apocalypse, obviously, but maybe more primal fears too ? Did they always exist and influenced humanity as we know it, or did they take form from humans' beliefs and terror ? What came first, and what impacted the other the most ?

If that is the case, then I have to say that I am quite thrilled at the possibilities of it all.

Onto our favourite sulky Head Archivist, the man is sulking again about the lack of order in the archive. I have to say, the contrast between the harrowing tale he was reading and his pettiness and disatisfaction toward his predecessor made my head spin for a bit. Just another way to show how good of a narrator he is, I almost forgot that he was the one talking, as well as why he was.

I am curious as to whom this Joseph Rayner will be. Since Wilfred Owen, in the story at least, spent 2 weeks in the guts of the man, but also with The Piper, I can only think that the two are connected.

With all of that out of the way, Wilfred Owen's end was quite the beautiful one. Sergeant Berry ponders on what luck is, and who of the two of them had more to spare, but between one haunted by his past, and the other not having any future to look forward to, the question quickly shifts to which one I find the most heartbreaking.

In the end, Clarence Berry built himself a futre despite the scars of his past, but will live to survive even more, while Wilfred Owen made his mark into the world before disappearing off of it for good. And he did it after having accomplished his goal, to a being higher than himself that he believed in and for his country.

Yes, I am sure the Wilfred Owen of this story was satisfied, not living his last instants for himself.

After all, just think of how sweet and fitting it is, to die for one's country.

BURNED OUT :

"I retrieved what turned out to be a a small wooden box, about six inches square, with an intricate pattern carved along the outside. Engraved lines covered it, warping and weaving together, making it hard to look away."

... Mh ?

Well, doesn't this sound familiar.

I must say, I started the whole fixation on the table from "Across The Street" thinking it wouldn't lead to anything, but somehow, they are very eager to make me think about it. There was a hole in that table, was there not ? Square shaped.

Still, somehow I don't think this was what was missing. There sure weren't spiders the first time around anyway, were there ?

TMA is on a streak right now, this episode hit me as much as the mast, tho in very different ways. The mystery presentd here is so complex, I genuinely cannot wait to get the Priest's statement and get the side of the story of someone who will, probably, be more understanding of the events and oddities of that night, and of this house in general.

Agnes has very much gotten my attention anyway. I somehow doubt this will be the last we hear of her or of her "father". They sound too much like trouble not to come back, and we still have a case of a disappearing child connected to them. I could see him appear, surprisingly ? As a character or as a statement.

Truth be told, if this continues I will have to make a list of all the names presented. I fear of forgetting context and stories and characters of relevance. I feel like I am reading a new wuxia level, I am not good with names, damn it.

For example, the narrator of this story. Obviously his father was involved with something ghastly, and I am thinking that his uncle was too, tho they have both been brushed aside as crazy. I somehow doubt that schyzophrenia really was a factor here. Patterns, fractals, and probably something to do with the leitner that made bones appear out of nowhere, if this guy wasn't aware of the Keays, maybe even against them, then I will eat my gloves. I am expecting to hear about them again, in anoher statement, but I have already fogotten the name of the man who did this statement.

But anyway, I guess the so called spiders have made an apparition. Crawling out of a rotten apple that has spent probably decades buried in a box, under a bleeding tree.

Now, I am someone very curious, but that is one form of knowledge I wouldn't mind not possessing. Ignorance is bliss, as many statements would confirm, and though I am of the type to contradict that saying, the kind of enlightenment given by this apple surely would not be good for me.

Awareness has been a theme all throughout. Living things that don't make sense and knowing that they do not, and suffering for it. Forces that try to keep you from learning the truth and eliminate you when you do. Should this garden be Eden and this apple the forbidden fruit giving you knowledge beyond your understanding, would this make of the spiders God or the Devil ?

Is there even a difference ?

OVERALL :

The deeper I get in this story, the more confused I am. It is a pretty nice feeling, knowing that I will get answers if I just keep going.

Those two statements have definitely been my favourite of the bunch, I tell you that, and I am more and more curious about who Jonathan Sims really is.

Again, he presents himself as a skeptic, scoffing at the idea that those statements could be real, and not deeming them so because there's SOME stuff of value, he guesses, but he still does work for an institute that research the supernatural.

Something I find fascinating is the way he presents the statements, you always hear his voice shift just a little, and he acts the words so well too. He is reading this, he is feeling the emotions the people who did these statements felt, but is denying ever being affected.

I can't help myself reading too much into it, and wondering how much of his life is affected by this tendency to deny feeling things.

Something that has me curious is the sound design. The context has been that he is journaling the statements in audio form through cassettes, at least the ones that can't get into a computer, but then, where does the sounds come from ? I understand that they may not actually exist, but I cannot imagine that they don't have a reason to exist in universe.

Until we get an idea, I will simply think that the horrors are giving us some entertainment, that they love the archivist's storytelling just as much as I do, so they decide to give it a little ambience to make it even better.

That, or Martin added a soundtrack post-production, when Jon isn't there. I haven't met him yet, but he sounds like the kind of guy that would do this. Him or that Tim guy.

Can't wait to meet them for good, with Sasha and Ellias. It would also be nice to find statements by Gertrude, or something, I wonder about the kind of person she was.

I am curious about the people working in this institute.

All of them.

And of the kind of corpses that must be buried under it. Somehow, I don't think they would be skeletons.

#tma #the magnus archive #liveblogging #tma-liveblog #i should find a closing statement #like a catch phrase or something #mh

[tunglo]

Newcastle Daily Chronicle 24 September 1864 - “by a glorious and manly effort...” English exceptionalism, always alive and well... 

  BROTHER IGNATIUS. To the Editor of the Daily Chronicle. SIR, - While not doubting for a moment the sincerity of the views taken by "Brother Ingatius" of a return to monastic life in this country, still I of opinion his zeal hath driven him mad. I grant, in certain circumstances, the institution to have been of great benefit to mankind, and without which the present time could not have enjoyed the light it does. In the rude middle ages, when religion and art were tender and young, they found a hospitable and meet home in these monasteries. But now all is changed, and when this country, by a glorious and manly effort, swept away all these institutions, it was because by Divine will religion was seen fit to leave its swaddling-clothes. What has our experience been? No doubt, in the early dawn of Christianity, persons of as pure and enthusiastic thoughts as Brother Ignatius looked forward to monastic life as the ideal of all pure and happy innocence. 

But we have read its history - how by degrees the ideal was quitted for the real - the creature worshipped and the Creator forgotten - till at length the whilom beauty, grown into an excresence - a mighty parasite - was lopped from the tree it overshadowed and stirled. Of course the system could never be reproduced in its former magnificance and splendour; the times do not suit - the press and public opinion are too quick to be cozened to allow its monstrosities to be enacted without reprehension. Witness the outcry raised about a supposed forcible abduction the other day. But out of this agitation let us hope good may come, and our clergy open their eyes to the apathy and sloth of their ministration, and though we do not wish to see the surplice indecently engaged in a war of words, like a Billingsgate fishwife, let our pastors deliver their opinions truly, humbly, and sincerely from their pulpits, as becomes the ministers of the Great Lord Jesus Christ.

I have no intention of troubling you with my views of celibacy in the ministers of religion. But it seems evident that an earnest and working pastor, with an equally zealous wife, could do more good than twenty monks, and could offer their services in twenty situations, where Brother Ignatius, and his whole fraternity could not with decency be present. To the working classes - let not the words addressed to them take effect by their brilliancy merely. Religion is a good thing, and we can never have enough of a true, honest, heartfelt religion. But what are these saints' says, so praised by him, in reality? A mummery of religion, an idol worship, and recurring with such frequency as to make a sad inroad on their time, for a very specious, questionable religious duty. We have been on the continent, and remember well the relief to land in our own blessed island, where following in the footsteps of religion, life seemed of a more manly caste.

I am, sir, yours truly, W.S. Newcastle, Sept. 23, 1864.

#press coverage #for the copy paste

[pandaspwnz]

I decided to watch season 3 of the witcher (the first 5 episodes that are out at this point at least) and by the time I finished it, I kind of forgot why I had been so hesitant to start watching it in the first place, aside of course the whole Henry Cavill leaving thing (and to clarify, I'm not watching season 4 and onwards because he's absolutely correct in why he's leaving, the show won't be the same without him, and the whole Joey having to write a 7000 word essay to get proper representation vis a vis Jaskier thing etc etc) because honestly I thoroughly enjoyed s3 so far! I did think the 5th episode was a bit.. or a lot 'meh'? But still. Then I remembered ofc that I'd been so hesitant because season 2 was ASS.

Anyway, I never watched Blood Origin, and after looking around the witcher subreddit and seeing that everybody apparently fucking hates s3, which I've concluded I liked so far, and also hates Blood Origin, I figured hey it might just be another one of those things where I would feel differently than the people who hate it.

So I just finished watching it and oh. my god. It SUCKS. ASS.

It's so fucking bad!!

Now I won't do what a lot of people have and go EUGH WOKE LEFTISTS RUINED IT or IT'S FULL OF BAD ACTING because what the hell are you talking about. First of all the only truly good thing about Blood Origin imo was the diversity. The most interesting story lines imo was Meldof and what happened with Gwen, I would have loved to see more of her story and her getting revenge, and Meldof was so endearing! I really loved how Francesca Mills played her. The humor came across as humorous, the grief was sad, and the weird goofy offball energy was delightful. I also think she did the fight scenes really well!

Also Eredin and Brían's story would have been so much more interesting to explore than what we got. Like hello? High ranking fancy schmancy general falls in love with a low born merchant? Even goes so far as to betray his ally for the sake of raising his lover in society, so they can be together without sneaking around? That's a classic premise for a reason! The reason being it's compelling and romantic! I love that shit.

I also don't feel like we needed seven characters. I loved Scìan and wish we had seen more of her life both before and after losing her clan. I didn't really feel we had time at all to get to know Brother Death and Zacaré at all, and even though I especially liked the actress who played Zacaré, neither of those two characters really made much impact on their own. I feel like they could have been condensed into other characters to make fewer stronger characters instead of many weaker ones. I also don't think we really learned very much about Syndril as a person, so if he had been combined with Zacaré, I think that would have worked better.

BUT I think every single actor in that show acted their heart out. They put their whole entire pussies into it!! And they did a great job with the material they had to work with. Unfortunately the material was bad (like jesus christ. by the power of friendship and also singing to calm the hulk like 3 times can we do literally anything else. Also everyone fucking singing the rose song like we GET IT but it felt so inauthentic and staged.) Also Fjall and Éile you knew each other for like 3 days calm down. There was no reason for them to fall in love aside from man meets woman and they are in physical proximity. I understand logically that they traveled together longer but it was SO rushed on screen. It was bad.

Anyway the costume design was gorgeous, and the makeup was as well. The fight scenes were nicely choreographed and shot. The effects were pretty good overall, I think!

But the pacing was bad, the script was bad, the dialogue was bad, it was bad. Beautiful but bad.

#i really really wanted to and thought i would like it but i just didn't #i think somewhere in there was a good story but it just wasn't what we got #the witcher #the witcher s3 #the witcher blood origin #the witcher blood origin spoilers #blood origin #blood origin spoilers #my post

[3rdbogwitch2theleft]

Watching The Rings of Power So You Don’t Have To - Episode 1

3.5 minutes in and I think everyone responsible for this script should stand trial. They are so so convinced that Finrod’s speech about why boats float and rocks don’t is profound. The writers hitting me with a broom and shouting “THESE. ARE. THE. THEMES”. I know. I know what themes are and how to recognize them, please stop hitting me.

Is it weird that this show is choosing to treat elf death like human death when it very much is not like that? Yes. But I understand the choice narratively speaking. 

OOOO a snow troll! Also some of these orc bodies are cool practical effects, that’s nice.

Sweet Jesus, the elf dialogue is stiff. But this autumn trees screensaver they’re all in looks very nice. And the line deliveries! Really committing to the “stiff upper lip” I see

The spray-painted leaf crowns are not a vibe, but the elf cloaks look good.

Lots of eye acting from Galadriel. Not really much else she can do with what she’s given.

The Southlands are missing a king and fought with the dark lord so they’re under elf surveillance. Is the execution of the exposition clumsy? Sure. It’s a teen boy shouting at an elf for seemingly no reason, but such is life. 

I like the greenman on Arondir’s armor. I know we’ve all been complaining about how bad the costumes are but I like this touch. 

Bronwyn is hot. She is very very hot. If I were Arondir I’d also risk it all for her. Arondir is also hot. I get the appeal even if he is a little too stoic to feel like a fully fleshed out character. 

THANK GOD Arondir’s elf friend is giving us real human expression for the first time. WE ARE SO FAR INTO THIS SHOW. Even though he’s delivering more goddamn exposition (why elves and humans aren’t supposed to date) he has an actual perspective on it and it has actual stakes. Good job elf-friend

Hobbits! Hobbits who are all doing very stage-y Irish accents. Ok. No, it’s fine. It’s fine. I like the scene of them appearing after the hunters pass. It feels very magical. More good practical effects. Honestly it’s all very a midsummer night’s dream. 

Don’t love the animation on the “wolf”

Ugh this elf armor looks like some 3rd graders spray painted paper plates for a school play.

The cow producing black sludge instead of milk is funny. It’s a very funny omen of doom. 

"I’ve said it so many times in every way but words” slaps, but god I wish this scene was better directed. If you want me to route for the doomed elf romance you need to give me simmering passion. It’s in the text, but it’s just not on the screen. An intimacy coordinator could have fixed this in 5 minutes. Also if someone like I don’t know a director maybe had told Arondir to relax his eyebrows even slightly that would have gone a long. long way

Midsummer Hobbits have predictions! The skies are strange! 

Galadriel is on her way to Valinor and her theme is playing again and she doesn’t want to give up her knife. These shots are very pretty once the armor is gone

Oh no Arondir and Bronwyn found a CGI town in flames 

Shooting star Gandalf! 

I like the Valinor elf song, it’s very pretty. 

And we’re back to the stone and boat story. “You must first touch the darkness to know which light to follow” YES I GET IT. Please stop hitting me with your broom. 

Poor Galadriel. She’s not so much acting as she is just trying to keep her eyes open despite having an extremely bright light shined in her face. I hope they paid you extra for the retina damage, but I know they didn’t

And she jumps from the ship! Beautiful shot. 

Oh no not a poisoned leaf! Side note: Gil-Galad looks like Jason Dohrig and I can’t help but wonder what this would have been like if they cast him instead

Naked Gandalf in a crater found by our hobbit girl! 

That last shot of the flaming crater is very cool. 

Final thoughts: Some elements of the production are really lovely, but the story in episode 1 is not what I would call gripping. Maybe the characters will get personalities now that we’ve covered a lot of the expositions. Also, to be clear I am watching this in order for the first time, but I have seen some of it already and I know how it ends. And which of our mystery men turns out to be Sauron. It is because I find who Sauron is to be really fucking funny that I am watching it the whole way through. 

#the rings of power #spoilers

[astridstorm]

Christmas Eve

For an audio version of this sermon, click here.

Good evening, Merry Christmas, and … You Made It.

Every year, every Christmas Eve when I stand here and look out on all your faces, I always want to congratulate you for making it here tonight. Whether your December was harried and overbooked and you had way too much to do so that you’re resolving next year to do less and not be so exhausted--you made it.

Or maybe you had a lonely month, a first (or second or third) Christmas without a friend or family member you sorely miss. Or you don’t have all those December distractions you once had and thought you’d never miss but kind of do and you’ve struggled with this quieter life you now lead--whichever of these scenarios most describes you, you made it. You’re here.

I’m going to extend that grace and gratitude to myself, and my family, this year. We made it. Those familiar with our lives know we’ve had a year that proves the existence--here on earth--of hell. There were times this fall I never thought I’d be able to stand in a pulpit again, definitely not Christmas Eve 2022. But we made it.

This space holds all that we bring in the way only (and I mean this) only church was built to do. And it’s the most beautiful thing on earth.

Our church here--I’ve pointed this out years past--looks like a barn. It’s gorgeous at Easter, but it was built for Christmas. I wish I could find out which of those two holidays was first held here back when it was half the size and space it now is. Maybe it’s the wood rafters--I think that’s a lot of it. They make this place look like a barn, a stable. Phillip Larkin, English poet of irreverence whom probably no priest should quote from the pulpit, but I do love his poem Churchgoing, described an old English church in which he sat as an “accoutred frowsty barn.” Accoutred frowsty barn. I think of it often when I sit in this space.

So the wood rafters certainly make this a Christmas church. So does the fact that no matter how hard we try to clean this place up after our Children’s Christmas Pageant (last Sunday), you still always find bits of hay and pageant props lying about--the wooden manger, angels’ haloes, loads of glitter!

Or maybe what makes me think this church was built for Christmas is the intimacy of the space, how it somehow manages to be majestic and cozy at the same time--I credit the architects who worked on it over the years for making this so. The effect tonight is of that first night, crowded under timber post and beam. It never fails to remind me of paintings you see of the creche, my favorite being those where an impossible number and variety of people--men, boys, shepherds, magi, old women, midwives, gawkers and villagers, shepherds’ friends--all crowd around the manger. As if the differences of their lives--and there are many, for them, and for us--make zero difference under that roof, with God.

The Easter story, our other great feast, doesn’t have the equivalent of this. It’s of course our primary story, without which we wouldn’t be here at all. And it has chaos and crowds, but more ominous, as crowds can be. People acting in mobs can be more dangerous than those acting as individuals, and so think of Jesus’ trial, and crucifixion, the crowd crying “Crucify, crucify him.” Easter also gives us fallen, complex characters, like Peter, who betrays Christ. Pilate, who washes his hands of complicity. The disciples, who doubt the women’s story after the resurrection. And it goes on.

Christmas, however, is first and foremost a celebration of being human. The Incarnation, God taking on flesh, becoming us, is how in our faith we proclaim the deep down goodness of who and what we are. There are bad actors in the story, to be sure. Herod the Great, evil king. Or the inhospitable innkeeper--actually he’s not in the Biblical story, we added him later and is, to us now, essential to the telling of it. But these do little to dent the feeling of unalloyed goodness of this story, and of the people in it. It’s a story about God’s love for the world and for us, plain and simple. So much so, that God chose to dwell in and among us.

Christmas is of second most importance to Easter, but it comes first. And it begins our story. The first message we hear about ourselves as an old year draws to a close and a new year begins, and as we are all gathered together under these rafters like those so long ago, is that we are good. We contain, and are a part of, God. So let’s take that with us tonight and into this new year. Live your life--and treat others--like you know these things are true.

Merry Christmas. Amen.

[pinertecno]

Enneagram type 2

When you meet them, you immediately feel they’re a safe place. They’re a warm, loving space for people to open up about hard things in their life. They can make you feel like the most loved, important person in the world. In your time of need, a Two show’s God’s heart by making you their top priority-even if it means completely abandoning themselves. Twos were designed to love fully and freely, without keeping score at all. Peter even said, “Lord, you will never wash my feet!” Among other things, Jesus was showing them that loving, serving, and sacrificing is a core part of God’s personality.Īnd when we watch Twos, we get a crystal-clear picture of it. It was such a lowly duty that the disciples felt embarrassed and confused. Twos reveal the part of God’s heart that caused Jesus to wash his disciples’ feet. Listen to me, and eat what is good-delight yourself in abundance!” (Isaiah 55:1-2). They’re called the Helper or the Provider for a reason-because they reflect the part of God that says, “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters. Watching them, you get a glimpse of God’s unfailing love for us in a way that no one else does. If you’ve ever doubted that God loves you deeply, unconditionally, and with utter abandon…just look at how He made Twos. Which keeps them from being effective lovers. That tendency leaves them empty-emotionally, spiritually, and monetarily. Because secretly, they believe that asking for help means they could lose the love they’ve earned. So they’ll never address what THEY need.Īnd then, when they need help, they often have trouble asking for it. When they have needs themselves, they’ll feel bad about it. “Helpful” is how they long to hear others describe them.Īll this focus on others can trick the Two into thinking it’s not right to care about themselves. That because a Two’s default setting is to attempt to earn love by providing for people. Twos thrive off the gratitude they get when they give you something. Ian Cron says, “They’re the first to respond during a crisis and the last to leave a dinner party if there are still dishes to wash.” They’re generous servants, fabulous hosts, and loyal friends.įor a Two, the words “thank you” are the most beautiful words a person can ever say. We all understand love better because of the way Twos love us. They have this way of making life all about the people around them, and it’s infectious. Even if it means inconveniencing themselves. Twos are naturally warm, loving, and empathetic-quickly figuring out what you need and doing whatever they can to help you get it. It’s not hard to see why everyone gravitates to her. If you get a promotion, she’s there to celebrate-and she’s already planned a party in your honor. She quickly takes interest in other people and does everything she can to make them feel understood and provided for. Once, heard her say, “It seems like everyone I meet feels like I’m their best friend.” You have a huge heart and can’t stand seeing anyone or anything in pain.You prefer to make decisions based on what feels most right rather than what seems to make the most sense.You feel valuable when you’re able to give your time, energy, or possessions to someone.You’re an award-winning host/hostess-or should be, anyway.You wish people were as attuned to YOUR needs as you are to theirs.But it does bother you when they don’t even say “thank you.” You’re very generous and do a lot for people without asking for anything in return.People open up to you quickly because they trust you quickly.Everyone you meet seems to think you’re their best friend.You’re more tuned into other people’s feelings than most other people.You check in regularly with loved ones because you’re deeply interested in how they’re doing.Even when it’s at your own expense, you’ll often still gladly do it. You absolutely love taking care of others.If they’re not careful, though, they can depend on their ability to love as a way to earn love in return. Twos are pictures of love-they are the first to give, serve, encourage, or listen to you anytime they sense that you need it. Twos are remarkably attuned to the needs and feelings of others, often before people are aware of them themselves. This causes them to manipulate others by figuring out their needs and desires, and then using that information to try and make them dependent on the Two. When they fear being unloved, twos try to earn that love by doing things for others in hopes that they would be loved in return. Subconscious childhood message: “Your own needs are not as important as the needs of others.” Original Design: They love the people in their life fully and freely, helping other people realize they are valuable and wanted.įear: Being rejected and going unloved by the people they care about.

#Enneagram type 2

[collecting-connection]

Fortress of solitude.

Leaning in?

I always thought of myself as a believer. I mean, Jesus, I started a whole project based on the beauty and romance of love and letter writing… Surely I can be forgiven for assuming that I myself was completely devoted to the idea of love? When we talk about romantic love, the things we spotlight are the warmth, the passion, the intimacy, the reverie of getting lost inside another person. We talk about the relief of finding someone who truly ‘gets it’, with whom you can share little inside jokes and for whom you are an open book, complete, whole, enough. The picture so painstakingly painted by us, the believers, is an idyllic one. It has the ethereal haze of a turner painting; an endless, beautiful sunset, somehow both engulfing and fixed, unchanging. We put all of our energy into dreaming about and wishing for a person that we don’t even consider what might happen once we do.

Perhaps this is a side effect of a culture educated in the ways of the romantic relationship by the likes of Disney and, I don’t know, every romantic comedy ever created. We are taught that the important bit is the before: the struggling, the learning about oneself, the overcoming obstacles and finally being ready to love. So we make ourselves secure, we are ready, we are looking and then we find someone… what then?

I always thought that once I found someone wonderful, who was willing to open their heart to me, that it would be easy to lean into that warm, golden glow. I figured that once someone actually stayed, then I’d feel safe enough and I’d trust them with the quiet bits of myself that no one ever sees. As it happens, trusting someone is actually way more difficult than finding someone.

Love in my twenties has been a story of chaos, instability, indecision and uncertainty. I have broken and been broken, my inner landscape has seen wars and revolutions. Like any developing habitation, walls have been built around the home of my heart. Love to me felt like a breach of my borders, an invasion of the space that I had constantly struggled to make safe from intruders. Like a queen manning her fortress, I was constantly alert - willing to send out an ambassador, to negotiate by giving away just enough to appease the would-be invader, whilst keeping my strategic cards close to my chest. How do you know when the intentions of the visitor are truly honourable?

Allowing someone in feels like dangerous complacency; it is as if, by being open and vulnerable about my feelings, I could provide him with the keys to come in and loot the castle  I have so carefully built. The possibility of an ally, a partner, still feels like a distant hope, removed from reality, something to be dreamed about but constantly suspicious of when confronted with the immediacy of it.

I am proud of the fortitude I have built. It took years of work to reach the point where I feel safe and comfortable inside my own heart, but in my fear that this will be destroyed, I have taken on the role of watchman. I feel that I am Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men, standing on the wall and staying vigilant at all times. Others can relax, others can lean into love, but I must stand guard;  the next time someone means me harm I must be ready. I am realising that my interest in the love of others has been a way to distance myself from the love I might experience in my own life. To watch others do it, safely from the window of my protective tower, felt like the only way to have access to that rich, wide world. I never, for even one second, believed that I would actually need to open up the gate…

#personal reflection #love #personal writing #journal #fear of love #stories of love #collecting connection

[hrh-prince-butt]

okay fine, guys! i wrote the fic (based on this post)

-

Oscar Diaz didn’t know who he had expected to find at his doorstep at 10 in the morning, but it probably wasn’t the prince of England. 

“Henry! What the hell are you doing here?”

He looked like he was about to throw up. Or shit himself. Either way, he definitely looked like someone whose nerves were about to manifest through one hole or another. 

“Mr. Diaz.” Henry’s tone was weirdly formal. He took a deep breath, and thankfully no shit or vomit came. “I’m here to ask for your blessing to marry your son.” 

-

Oh God, this was a terrible idea. Henry was in half the mind to just turn around and run. He should not have done this. Why had he done this? It wasn’t like he needed anyone’s blessing to marry Alex. 

Mr. Diaz didn’t say anything, which made it all worse. He just crossed his arms and regarded Henry with an utterly unreadable look. Oh, Henry felt like he was going to faint. Desperate to fill the silence, he kept talking: 

“I, er… I have been planning to propose for a while. Bought the ring a few weeks ago. I’m either going to do it in the garden by the White House where we had our first kiss, or at this really romantic spot we both like. Obviously the first option is more sentimental, but the other place is sort of secluded and there’s this beautiful lake and…” He was well aware that he was rambling like an idiot, but he wasn’t sure he could stop himself. “I know that asking for the father’s blessing is quite old fashioned, and also it’s usually the father of the future bride, but-”

“Ay, it’s too early in the day for this many words,” Mr. Diaz said, interrupting Henry’s mortifying ramblings. “You’re going to run out of air.” 

Henry nodded, weirdly grateful for the intervention, and nervously waited for whatever would come next. 

“You know, Henry… I just don’t know if I can give you my blessing.” 

Oh no. Oh dear. This was going even worse than Henry had imagined. He should just run. Maybe they didn’t have to invite Mr. Diaz to the wedding. No, was absurd. They couldn’t just not invite Alex’s dad. No, Henry would just have to avoid him, at the wedding and for the rest of his life. 

“Why don’t you come in and have a beer with me?”

That was the last thing Henry wanted right now but, in spite of his own wishes, his legs started moving, forcing him into Mr. Diaz’s living room. 

-

Oscar set two beers down on the table and sat down facing Henry, who looked like he was actually about to faint. 

Was he taking this too far? He had thought it would be fun to mess with the prince, but the poor guy looked ready to get up and bolt from here.

Ah, what the hell, he thought. You only have the fun you make for yourself. 

“So,” he said. “What makes you think you’re good enough to marry my son?”

Oscar did almost feel bad, seeing the look on Henry’s face. To his credit, Henry quickly recovered, and met Oscar’s eyes with regained resolution. 

“I don’t know if I am,” he said. “But I love Alex. I love him so much. And if he wants to marry me, I will do everything I can, every day, to be someone who is good enough for him.” 

Well, damn. “Yeah, well, you know what I think, Henry?”

Oscar leaned back in his seat and took a long swig of his beer. There was something almost satisfying about keeping Henry practically vibrating with anticipation. Just for dramatic effect, and to really drive the performance home, he set the beer down as slowly as humanly possible, before finally looking back at Henry. 

“I can’t wait to get the wedding invitation.”

-

Henry’s brain was definitely not processing whatever was happening, but Mr. Diaz held up his beer and gestured for him to do the same. He had seemed dead serious just a moment ago, but now he was… grinning? Henry’s hands caught up faster than his mind, and he held up his own beer, more as a reflex than because he actually understood what was happening, and Mr. Diaz clinked his bottle against Henry’s.

“Er… sorry?”

“You have my blessing, Henry!” Mr. Diaz said, as though it was obvious. As though that’s what he had been telling him all along. “Of course you do.”

Henry blinked, slowly. “But… But I thought you said…?”

Mr. Diaz laughed heartily. “I was messing with you. Jesus, you’re a bit slow today, eh?”

Henry could feel the embarrassment colour his face a bright shade of red. “RIght. Yeah, I… Sorry.” 

He went to take a sip of his beer, at the same time as Mr. Diaz went for a friendly - but strong - clap on his back, which resulted in Henry’s beer spilling down his own shirt. Christ, this was the most embarrassing day of his life. When would his suffering end?

“Listen, mijo.” Mr. Diaz put a hand on his shoulder, and Henry really tried not to tense up and make even more of a fool of himself. “I can’t think of a better person marrying my son. Ah, well, maybe a few. But my point is, I’m happy it’s you, because I know Alex will be happy with you. And I guess you’re not the worst son-in-law I could ask for, either.”

Henry smiled, finally allowing himself to be relieved. “Thank you, sir.”

“I mean, you are so much fun to mess with. Seriously, that was great. You should’ve seen your face.” He laughed, leaning back in his chair a little. His laugh reminded Henry of Alex’s, full and genuine, and quite infectious. “Honestly, this’ll be great stuff for my speech at the wedding. Maybe even a story for the grandkids, eh?” 

God, Henry was never going to live this down. He could already picture Alex laughing at him when he heard the story. Even without the part where Mr. Diaz had been messing with him, Alex would find it hilarious that Henry had even asked for his blessing in the first place. 

He was going to propose to Alex. Suddenly, it felt very real. Much more real than it had, even when he bought the ring. Perhaps even a little too real for Henry’s liking. 

“You’re making that face again, like you’re about to faint or something. Everything okay?” Mr. Diaz asked.

Henry swallowed nervously. “Do you think he’ll say yes?”

He didn’t know what kind of response he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Mr. Diaz to burst out laughing. “Do I think Alex is gonna say yes when you propose to him? Jesus, Henry, do you even know the guy you’re marrying? Of course he is gonna say yes!”

When Henry still looked nervous, Mr. Diaz continued: “Alex loves you. It’s almost annoying. Whenever I speak to him it’s Henry this, Henry that. If you seriously think he might not want to marry you, you are an idiot.” 

Henry nodded, taking a deep breath. Yeah, he probably was an idiot, wasn’t he? “Mh. I think you’re right.”

“Yes, obviously. Now, c’mon, let’s have another toast.” Mr. Diaz raised his bottle again with a big smile. “To you and Alex. And to me, for blessing your union or whatever.” 

Henry grinned back. “To a very blessed union.”

#this isn't great but i rly liked the concept and some of y'all really did too #i hope i didn't let you down #henry fox mountchristen windsor #prince henry of wales #oscar diaz #alex claremont diaz #firstprince #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fanfic

[inkandpen22]

The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 5)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader / Topper x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: swearing, violence, mild smut

Part Summary: You and Topper make amends. You two attend the end of the summer bonfire at the Boneyard. When JJ sees you guys together, things take a turn for the worst. 

Masterlist

Somehow, after hours of crying, you finally fell asleep on your bed. You're not quite sure when it happened. Your covers tucked nicely under you, wet from your tears. When you first got home, you immediately snuck up to your room, far from your parents. You ripped off your Labor Day dress, having already hated it, but you also took your aggression out on it. You changed in one of Topper's T-shirts that you stole sometime last summer... when you were hooking up. You had never been so close. Morning, noon, and night you were together. You were practically dating but without the titles. Actually, it was far deeper than that. You spent almost every hour together, you co-existing. You were acting married even though you were only teenagers. You guys just loved each other that much. If someone had told you then that a year from now you two wouldn't be talking, you would've thought they were crazy. 

“Y/N!" You hear Topper in your dreams.  "Y/N!" He repeats, then you process it's real. 

"What the-" You rise from your laid position and spot the boy climbing in from your window in the dark. "Topper?" 

"Hey! Sorry to scare you," he apologizes as he rises to his feet from a crawling position on your floor. 

"Did you climb through the window?" You question, this wouldn't be the first time, but it nevertheless is mind-boggling to you how he can climb up the side of your house. 

"Yeah, can you tell your mom to not have the gardeners cut the vines so short?" He complains with a chuckle, brushing down his Patagonia shirt. 

"What are you doing here?" You yawn. Considering what he said to you just hours before, you can't help but wonder why the fuck he's here. 

"I... I need to apologize," he stammers, taking a seat on the edge of your bed just by your legs. "Y/N, I'm so sorry! I was such a jerk to you earlier. I shouldn't have-" 

Before he can even finish, you leap at him, pulling him into a pleading hug. "Jesus, I'm so happy you're here," you whisper against his shoulder. 

Topper instantly wraps his arms around you, engulfing you. He releases a deep breath, not having realized until this moment that he couldn't breathe the entire time you weren't talking. "I've missed you!" He pulls back and brushes his hand across your cheek, bringing your hair back. "I missed you the moment you left!" He wears a smile of relief as his eyes glisten with tears threatening to fall. 

"Never let me go again," you mutter, almost as a beg. 

"I could never. I didn't," Topper explains in a rushed whisper, gripping your waist. "As soon as you left I was a mess, ask the boys! They had to talk me off a cliff. I came by earlier but your parents said you were still at Kiara's... which I'm guessing you were with JJ and the other Pogues..." His face falters and he avoids your gaze at the mention of JJ. 

You bring your hand up and tuck your fingers under his chin, guiding him to look at you. His eyes meet you with defeat and it nearly breaks your heart. "JJ drove me back to John B's, but I had Sarah drive me home almost as soon as we got there." 

"So you and JJ..." He can't bring himself to ask. 

"We..." Your brows scrunch together as you realize you never really discussed it. "You know what, I didn't even know." Enough about JJ, you're just happy that Topper is here! You felt so empty all day, in a constant state of panic. Now, you can exist again. "I'm just relieved you're here, Top. I've felt sick to my stomach all day," you release a breathless laugh of relief. 

"No, yeah you're right, no one else matters," he shakes his head, reaching for your hand on his cheek and taking it in his hands. "As long as we're good then everything else will be okay." He lifts your hand to his lips and gives them a needy kiss. 

"Stay with me?" You ask softly as he does. 

You see him swallow hard, pausing with your hand his lips. His eyes flicker up to yours with a mixture of surprise and admiration. "I was hoping you'd ask." A faint grin appearing on the edge of his lips. 

You and Topper get ready for bed as you used to every night when he snuck into your room a lot more. You've shared a bed since breaking off your... arrangement. There was the ski trip and Bermuda, but on random nights when he couldn't sleep or missed you, Topper would find himself in your bed. You pull back your blankets, knowing to get on the side closest to the window, away from the door. Topper didn't need to think twice to move to the opposite side because ever in the case of an emergency, he's the closest to the door. He's always thinking of how to keep you safe and satisfied. As you climb in, Topper begins to remove his t-shirt and shorts. You can't help but watch as his clothes become a pile on his side. It's months since you two have done anything, but that doesn't mean you haven't thought about it. There have been opportunities, but you always try to be responsible and remember why you stopped. Topper doesn't notice your staring and wondering what it would feel like to run your fingers down his chest. He climbs in next to you and immediately guides you into his side. Instantly, you feel secure and wanted, which is all anyone ever needs. He brushes his fingertips up and down your spine gently while you rest your cheek against his bare chest. It's not a new feeling to you, but it certainly never gets old. 

"There's a bonfire tomorrow at the Boneyard, wanna go together?" The boy asks, glancing down at you. 

"As long as Rafe doesn't go wild as he did," you snicker, but you mean what you say. 

"Don't worry about him, we had a nice long chat once he sobered up this afternoon," he insinuates and you wish you would've seen Topper go off on him. Then, you comprehend that it might've only happened because Topper was mad at you and Rafe was getting the side effects. 

"He doesn't deserve you, Top." You mutter, lifting your head off his chest to place a quick kiss on his chest. 

"That's how I feel about myself with you," he confesses as he peers down at you. "You've always been there for me. When Sarah cheated, you were right there and pulled me through it. The way I spoke to you this morning. I-" 

"No, no, don't say that," you shake your hand repeatedly as you cup his cheek as you did before. He leans into your touch and you find yourself wishing to be closer to him, as though that's even possible. "I love you, Top. You're my best friend. I'll always be there for you. You've helped me in more ways than you could ever realize." 

"I love you too, Y/N," he smiles, leaning down and placing a kiss on your forehead. "So much..." he whispers against your skin. 

His eyes flicker down to your neck and you remember last night in the kitchen. You brush your hand across Topper's cheek, pulling his focus back to you. His eyes and features falter at the evidence of JJ on you. 

"I'm here with you! Okay? It's you and me," you try to emphasize. 

He nods slowly, still feeling an ache in his chest, but relieved to have you in his arms. You're it for Topper. He would do anything for you, drop anyone for you, nothing is too much. You alone are what drives him and are the reason he wakes up in the morning. He would never admit it aloud out of guilt, but when he was with Sarah, he always compared her to you. He doesn't fully know why he dated her, maybe because he felt you slipping away when you realized that you no longer wanted to hook up. He couldn't lose you so he tried to replace you, but he quickly realized that was impossible. No one could be you. 

_____________________________________

Topper woke up before you and let you sleep, pondering having you in his arms. Your legs entangled in his, your arm across his chest along with your cheek. In the light, he finally notices you wearing his shirt. A faint smile forms on his lips at the sight. He has you here with him, not with JJ or Rafe or anyone else who's pining after you. You're his. 

You've spent the entire day together on Topper's boat. It couldn't have been more perfect. The hours slipped by without either of you two noticing. Topper has been energized and enthusiastic about everything, all because he has you back. Around ten, you and Topper arrive at the Boneyard for the final bonfire of the summer. You wear distressed white short shorts over a black tank bodysuit with a matching black Chanel belt. All finished with the pearl earrings Topper gave you for Christmas last year.  

Topper keeps you close, his arm around your waist as you walk toward the crowd of teenagers. "I'm so lucky." 

You peer up at the boy with a giggle. "Why?" 

"I have the most beautiful girl in the OBX at my side," he flirts. 

You turn your attention ahead, struggling to hide your blushing. "You sound like Rafe." 

Topper steps around to walk backward in front of you. He locks his fingers through the loops of your shorts and pulls you into his chest. "At least he and I agree on something." He grins, resting his hands on your hips. 

You playfully roll your eyes but find it hard to hide your amusement. "You're such a cheese ball." 

"I'm gonna go get us some drinks," he announces before planting a quick peck to your temple. 

You nod, stepping back toward the shore as Topper holds onto your hands until the last minute. "Okay, I'll find us a spot by the water." 

"Be right there," he winks, offering you a mischievous smirk. 

For a second, you watch Topper jog off to the stack of coolers by the cement wall. Is it possible to be too dependent on someone? You know that if you and Topper stopped talking completely that you wouldn't physically die, but emotionally it would destroy you. You smile, knowing that you two will grow closer because of your fight. It taught you a valuable lesson. It took losing Topper for you to fully comprehend how much you need him. Turning on your heels, you head toward a log facing the shore. It's far enough from the chaos to give you and Topper some privacy, but close enough to still be included in the festivities. You two are both social butterflies, but today has been about you two and you want to keep it that way. You sit down on the log, content watching the small waves crashing against the sand just a few feet away. The light of the moon shimmers on the water, making it looks like lines of crystal. 

"Want a drink, Princess?" A familiar voice asks over your shoulder 

You glance up to see a 

"Wow, you look extra Kooky tonight," he remarks under his breath as he brings his cup to his mouth. 

You glare at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Let's play a game!" He blurts out. "How many items that Y/N is wearing are designer?"

You roll your eyes, realizing how drunk he is because JJ isn't like this. "How much have you had to drink?" 

"Just the right amount!" He answers swiftly before moving on. "My guess is all of them, but I can't be too sure. You'll have to take off your clothes so I can check what's underneath." 

"You wanna sit for a second? Maybe cool down a bit?" You offer, gesturing to the space beside you. 

His expression shifts from carefree to hurt. "Why do you care?" 

"JJ..." You sigh, peering up at the boy with immense guilt. 

"What?!" He tosses his arms up at his sides, losing some of his drink in the process. "You come here with Prince Charming, acting all coupley!" 

 "It's not like that-" You try to explain calmly. 

"Not according to Sarah!" He counters in a shout. You nervously check over at the crowd, making sure no one heard him burst. "You two planning your next trip to Bermuda?!" 

"What!" You whip your head back around toward JJ. "What did Sarah tell you?!" You fly up to your feet, stepping toward him defensively. 

"Did you sleep with him?!" JJ yells again and you're sure others heard him this time. 

"Excuse me?" You gasp at his audacity. 

"After you left John B's, did you go and find him?!" He elaborates with a breathless laugh. He steps closer to you, getting in your face. He doesn't care if others listen or if he's making you uncomfortable. "After you kissed me and slept in my bed, did you go and sleep with Topper?!" 

Abruptly, you feel a hand pressed to your back and see JJ being shoved backyard. 

"Hey! Back off man!" Topper growls, suddenly at your side. 

JJ catches himself from falling after a second of stumbling. "Oh and here he is now!" He laughs, tossing his cup to the side. "Your knight in shining armor!" 

"I think you should go, man!" Topper warns between his teeth. 

Topper's arm slips around you and grips your waist protectively. You watch JJ as he glares at Topper's arm around you. 

"Don't "man" me, alright! Touch me again and you'll lose a hand!" JJ threatens. 

"JJ!" John B calls for his friend as he runs toward you from down the beach. Kiara, Pope, and Sarah are close behind him. When JJ doesn't react. John B shouts again. JJ! Come on, let's go back over to the fire." 

"No! Not until she answers me!" JJ screams, yanking his arm free. 

Pope, Kiara, and Sarah watch in distress as JJ and Topper go back and forth. None of you are sure what to do. 

"Answer what!" Topper barks, stepping toward JJ defensively. You grab his arm, keeping him back. 

"Oh, I'm sorry! Is your name Y/N?" JJ laughs mockingly. "That Kook Academy doesn't do you guys any favors for your intelligence does it?" 

Pope steps around to block off his friend. "Just cool down, buddy!" 

"I knew you were Kook, Y/N, but I would've never marked you as slut," JJ shouts at you over Pope's shoulder. 

Topper breaks free of your hold, charging at JJ. John B grabs Pope and yanks him out of Topper's way. Now block-less, JJ runs at Topper. His face is red with aggravation. You could've never imagined seeing JJ look so enraged. The person he was with you the other night was entirely different. He was kind, gentle, understanding. You don't recognize him. Topper shoves JJ hard enough to make the boy fall back onto the sand. 

Topper tackles JJ into the ankle-deep water, immediately punching him in the jaw. The two grunt, struggling to get the upper hand. John B attempts to pull Topper off. 

"Topper!" You yell desperately. 

"JJ!" Kiara yells from the sidelines. 

"Enough!" John B barks at the pair as Pope runs to assist. 

The crowd by the bonfire starts to figure out what's going on a few yards away and rush over to watch. Pogues and Kooks each cheer for their fighter. Kelce and Rafe show up, pushing through the crowd to help out their friend. 

"Topper! Get off of him!" You plead as your best friend continues to press JJ's head under the water. 

JJ manages to punch Topper in the cheek, making the boy lose his balance for a second. Despite hating each other, Kelce and Rafe try to help out John B and Pope. 

"Guys! Quit!" Kelce commands, pulling at Topper. 

"Top, you'll kill him!" Sarah screams from beside Kiara. 

You want to go stand with them, but at this moment you're not sure if they want anything to do with you. Sarah and Kiara are Pogues. You're not just Y/N right now, their friend. You're a Kook during this Kook vs. Pogue fight. 

The boys manage to yank Topper off of JJ. The blonde Pogue flies up from beneath the surface, gasping for air. Topper falls back onto the sand in a seated position. Topper continues to fist JJ's collar and as he's shoved off, ripping JJ's shirt down the front. You notice the large purple and blue bruise on JJ's chest and freshly heeling cut down his neck to his collar bone. JJ frantically reaches behind himself, searching for something. Then, things take a turn for the worst when he whips out a gun. The crowd that watched the fight with amusement now scatters in a panic. 

"Woah! Woah! Woah!" Topper's eyes grow wide as he starts to scoot back, holding up a hand pleadingly. 

Kelce and Rafe bolt away, John B and Pope rush out words, trying to calm JJ down. 

"JJ!" John B yells at his friend. "What the hell?!" 

"Oh my god!" Sarah's hands fly up to her mouth. 

"That's right! Bet you didn't think I had that did ya?" JJ grins wickedly at Topper. 

"Topper!" Kelce attempts to collect his friend but halts when JJ points the gun at him. 

"Everyone back off!" JJ orders, rising to his feet, returning the gun's point toward Topper. 

Without a second thought, you sprint across the sand. You slide in front of Topper, the waves splashing against you. 

"Y/N! No!" Topper screams as soon as you land in JJ's path. 

"Y/N!" Sarah and Kiara shout your name in unison. 

JJ hesitates when his eyes land on you. You see him lower the gun a little and Kelce takes the opportunity to pull Topper from the scene. 

"JJ please..." you beg of him. 

Your heart is racing, but you're certain JJ won't hurt you. Despite his evident pain and anger toward you, he won't do it. You remember the boy from the other night, the one who spoke to you with such admiration. That boy wouldn't harm you. You know he's in there beneath this tough facade. 

"Y/N! Come on!" Rafe wraps his fingers around your arm and drags you away. 

While he's distracted by you, John B swiftly steals the gun from JJ's hand and begins ushers him away to their circle of friends. The Pogues swarm JJ, all talking over each other. 

 Rafe frantically cups your face, checking on you. "Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?"

"I'm fine..." You mutter, glancing over your shoulder, watching John B talk to JJ down the beach. 

"No cuts? Scrapes?" Rafe panics. 

"No..." You shake your head absent-mindedly as you’re too distracted by observing JJ. 

"Are you okay?" Kiara checks on JJ worriedly as you watch from a distant. 

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine!" JJ rushes out, still agitated. "Fuck this man!" He swears, then his eyes land on yours with surprise. He hand’t expected you to be listening or even care. 

You two stare each other from across the beach. Guilt consumes his features and sympathy breaks you apart as your vision lands on the wounds covering JJ’s torso. Rafe brings you over to Kelce who has Topper catching his breath against a tree. 

"Dude's fucking nuts, man!" Kelce curses, all fidgety beside you. 

As soon Topper sees you coming, he pushes himself off the tree and rushes to you. His arms engulf you as he presses you to his chest. 

He squats down to be at your level, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re so stupid, Y/N! You just jumped in front of a gun! Why would you do that?!” 

“Because it was pointed at you!” You justify desperately. 

Topper's eyes soften. “You’d risk your life for me?! Are you crazy?!” A soft, breathless, laugh escapes him. 

“Of course I would you idiot!” You remark with frustration. How could he possibly think you wouldn't? You'd do anything for the boy. 

“God, I love you so much," he mutters, placing a hand on either side of your head and planting a kiss on your forehead. 

“Are you sure you’re not hurt anywhere?” You check his body in a panic. 

“Yes, yes I’m okay!” He assures you. “Let’s get out of here before things get crazy again." 

Your eyes grow wide. “Agreed!” 

He looks over at you and Topper doting on each other. It makes him even more pissed off. "Great! Go baby him! Tend to your Kook Prince, you Princess!" He yells across the beach. 

John B covers his friend's mouth. "Shut up, JJ!" 

"Jesus JJ!" Pope huffs under his breath. 

You and Topper snap your heads in JJ's direction. As a result, Topper pulls you into his side securely. 

“We'll text you guys later!” Kelce calls out to you both as he and Rafe start backing toward their cars. 

“Stay close to me,” Topper slips his into yours, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m never letting that psycho Pogue anywhere near you again!” 

When you arrive at Topper's car, he opens your door for you. He keeps a sharp eye on the Pogues that remain on the beach. When John B or any of them glance our way, he glares daggers in their direction. Once you climb in, Topper reaches in and begins to buckle your seat belt as though you were a toddler in a car seat. 

“Topper I think I can put on my own seat belt,” you 

“I know, Sweetheart. I’m just..." he stops his action, kneeling beside you. "I guess I’m still a little scared. I was so afraid when that gun was pointed at you, I... I couldn’t breathe. I can never lose you, Y/N,” he rushes out, becoming emotional. 

Your emotions become bottled up as a lump in your throat. You rub your fingers through Topper's hair and plant a kiss on his forehead. His hands glide around your waist to your back, hugging you needly. His head rests against your chest as you cradle it. 

Abruptly, he breaks from you as a thought pops into his mind. “Promises me that if there’s any dangerous situation like that again, you run!" He instructs sternly. "You don’t do anything reckless for my sake!” 

You shake your head frantically, already rejecting his words. “You would’ve done the same thing for me! You basically did!” You justify. 

“I’m seriously Y/N!" Topper stands his ground. Eagerly, he takes removes your hands from his hair and squeezes them in his own. "I could never live with myself if something happened to you! Never again!” 

You want to argue with him on it, claim that if he's going to be protective of you that he must understand that you'll be the same. Yet, nothing escapes you. Instead, you simply nod, not wanting to fight at this moment. 

He nods, satisfied by your compliance. “I love you, you know that right?” 

You nod. “I love you too, Topper." 

_________________________________________

JJ fell into a dark abyss of self-deprecation and destruction after the bonfire. The Pogues all drove back to John B's, but as soon as they got there JJ disappeared as he did the day before. All they can do is wonder where he goes. If they knew that he was at the bar searching for his dad half drunk, they would be stopping a second fight for the day. 

JJ can't help but feel responsible for it all. One minute he has you. You're right there. The next, you're gone, in the arms of Topper of all people. He wants to know if anything from the other night was real for you. Was he just a game to you? You're the Princess of the OBX, you can have anything you want, including JJ if you asked. Is that what happened? You wanted him for a night and then got bored and went back to your fellow Kook. He wishes he hadn't let you down. He wishes you were here. He wishes that he could hold you again and feel you in his arms. Waking up next to you was the best moment in his life and he fears he'll never feel that sort of peace again. 

______________________________________________________

You Topper spend the night at his house, too afraid to be apart. Late into the night, Topper struggles to fall asleep as he holds you. Your back is pressed to his chest as his hands rest against you underneath his shirt you're wearing. Every time he tries to close his eyes, he envisions what could've happened tonight. You could've been shot. Topper could never live with himself if anything happened to you. Moving slowly to not wake you, he rolls onto his back and reaches toward the nightstand for his phone. He begins to scroll through social media and text messages, responding in the group chat between you, Kelce, Rafe, and himself. You've all agreed to go to lunch tomorrow at the Club with some other Kooks from the bonfire. 

You stir next to Topper, making the boy pause for a second. When you roll over still asleep and curl into him, a wave of relief rushes over Topper. 

“Go back to sleep,” you yawn. 

Topper jumps at the sudden sound of your voice. “Shit... sorry Beautiful, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“I’ve been awake. I could feel you overthinking," you whisper, scooting closer into his side. 

“You could feel me thinking?” He repeats with a hint of confusion.

You hum, as it makes perfect sense to you. You hear the sound of Topper pushing his phone back onto the side table. He rests his now free hand over your arm that lays across him. After a couple of minutes, you can still feel the tension radiating from him. 

“I’m okay, Topper,” you tell him to ease his nerves. 

“I know, I can’t just help but review the course of events in my head. What if he didn’t hesitate? What if his hand slipped? What if-“ 

“Enough!” You fly up to prop yourself up on your elbow. You stare down at the worried boy with sympathy. "You’re okay! I’m okay! What’s done is done and all we can do is be safe from now on. We’re safe!” You reach up and comb your fingers through the side of his hair. “Okay? It’s just you and me here.” 

Impulsively, Topper extends his neck and slams his lips to yours. You sit stunned as the kiss rides out its course. You and Topper go months without anything intimate and within two days, he's kissed you twice, breaking every ruled you two have made. When you don't react, Topper breaks from you with a startled expression, as if he wasn't comprehending his actions. 

“Y/N, I'm sorry! I-“ 

Before Topper can finish his sentence, you press your lips to his hungrily. You're not sure why, but you need him. Topper is your kryptonite, the bittersweet reality in your life. Forgetting his regret, Topper immediately sits up, resting against his headboard. You take the opportunity to straddle his torso and he keeps you steady with his hands on your hips. It's been ages since you've made out, but it's like riding a bike for you two. You know what each other likes and what gets the other going. 

"I've missed you so much," Topper whispers against your jawline as he moves down to leave marks on your neck. He aggressively attacks your sensitive skin where evidence of JJ remains. Deep down in the back of your mind, you know Topper is parking his territory for JJ to see later. Your skin has become a battleground for the two. "I've missed this." 

"Me too," you pant, silently wondering if you truly mean it in the same sense as him. 

Though you chose to kiss Topper back and want to, you can’t understand why JJ’s face enters your mind the moment you do. As you deepen the kiss with Topper, you chase the sensation he’s giving you. You're addicted to the way he makes you feel, it's familiar and reminds you of a time when you were carefree. Yet, your thoughts remain fixated on JJ. You want Topper, but all you can think about is JJ. 

__________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly@cc13723things @hockeybabe87 @jolomez

#topper obx #topper outer banks #topper imagine #topper #john b routledge #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fic #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagines #jj #kiara #sarah cameron #pope #outer banks

[hotchscvm]

hoe hoe hoe - part one

Warnings: dark!Steve, student/teacher relationship

Word count: 2.2k

Pairings: Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Your dad's best friend isn't exactly who you thought he'd be.

chris evans masterlist

Walking in the front door, the smell of eggnog, and pine hit your nose, mixing in with the warmth of the newly cooked food in the kitchen. Looking around the house, you registered how much decorating you had left your father to do, pondering whether or not he strained his back putting up the Christmas tree. You'd have to make it up to him somehow.

"Dad! I'm home." you yelled out, stepping out of your shoes. Even with the amount of work he had done, he still had the time to shovel the driveway despite the heavy amount of snow that had precipitated last night. The mixed-breed boxer pawed his way to you, the dog panting as he snuggled himself against your leg. "Hey, cutie."

Your father stuck his head from the kitchen, motioning for you to come into the room. "In the kitchen. I was getting worried that you got stuck in traffic. It's an absolute nightmare coming into the city from 122 right now."

Entering the kitchen with Dodger, you went to hug your dad, your arms wrapping around his waist. The man chuckled, giving your cold body a hug back before kissing your forehead. You sighed, pulling away, looking around the kitchen to see the dining room covered with food. "Traffic was a bitch, but I managed to get out of it. Although, I may have made a couple of people mad, but you gotta do what you have to do, right?"

"You got that right, pumpkin." he replied. For someone with a 20 year old daughter, the man was young, having you with his high school sweetheart at 19. He gestured at the food. "You hungry? I made all of this and I'm not sure that everyone at the party will eat all of this."

"Jesus, Dad, were you drunk when you made all of this? This is enough to feed the whole country." you commented, walking up to the table to grab a mini quiche off the plate. Your tongue swirled around the food, relishing the flavor. It was a gift having your father as a successful chef.

"I may have went overboard with the cooking, but I got excited." he explained, chuckling. Pouring some eggnog in a mug, he offered it to you, taking a sip of his own before announcing his news. "An old friend of mine is coming for the party. My best friend in college. He's in town for the holidays, and he'll be staying with us for a few. That okay?"

You nodded, washing the remaining quiche in the eggnog, swallowing it down. "Yeah, that's fine. Who's this friend of yours? Have I met him before?"

"You used to call him Uncle Steve, but he left for Brooklyn when you were four. I doubt you'd remember him but he gave you that necklace last year when he couldn't make it. He's a professor in Brooklyn now, but he wanted to come to Boston, spend the holidays with us."

"Wait, he gave me this necklace?" you asked, holding up the golden angel wings between your fingers. Your dad nodded, untying the knot on his apron. "Oh, wow. Hey, I officially get to thank him for it."

You dad agreed, nodding again as he popped a mint in his mouth, his teeth grinding down on it. "Yes, you will. He'll appreciate seeing you again. He's been talking about seeing his favorite girl—shit."

"Something wrong?"

"I forgot to pick up the ham today. I've been so busy making everything for today that I completely forgot about the main course for tomorrow." said your father, rubbing the bridge of his nose, mentally slapping himself. He sighed. "Can you take the pie out of the oven when it's ready? I have to run to the store really quick and get the ham."

Shaking your head, you stopped him, pushing his clearly exhausted body into the nearest chair, shaking a finger at him when he tried to stand back up. "No, no, no. You're tired and you need to rest. I'll get the ham, and anything else you need. Text me a list."

"Pumpkin, you don't have to do that. You just got home—" he was cut off by your insistent expression, the man relenting. "Okay, fine. Go to the Costco, they have a better selection there. And drive safe, it's supposed to be snowing tonight but with Massachusetts weather, you never know if it'll start early."

"Gotcha. I'll be back soon. In the meantime, you sit, rest, and text me a list of things I need." you said, grabbing the keys from the table. The cold air hit your face, your cheeks stinging from the impact. You winced, wishing home was somewhere warmer.

The drive to Costco was nostalgic, the familiar buildings and roads bringing back memories so deep you forgot they existed. The little ice cream place reminded you of your first kiss with your first grade boyfriend. You had immediately broken up with him the next day, claiming it was the way he walked when he asked if it was his sloppy peck on the lips. You had lied through your teeth.

Slosh was fun, it made it that much gross to walk through the barely shoveled parking lot, nearly slipping as you reached the entrance. One of the employees by the door handed you a cart, giving you a curt smile before returning to his spot.

Pushing the cart down the aisles, you immediately head to the grocery area, getting a text from your dad of all the food to get. With how short the list was, the cart had been unnecessary, but you decided to get all the last minute Christmas shopping out of the way, grabbing a Christmas card to match the present you had gotten for your father.

You had just bent over, reaching for the ham when you heard your name called, the familiar voice making you look up. A few feet behind you stood your history professor, a surprised smile on his face as he took you in. You returned the smile, stunned by the sight of you professor. "Professor Rogers? Hey, what're you doing here?"

The blond raised an eyebrow, his piercing blue eyes flickering to the necklace visible. He smirked inside, his heart warming at the thought. "I'm in the city for the holidays. I'm staying with a friend, catch up with them. What about you? Any exciting plans for Christmas?"

"Just spending it with my dad." you replied, reaching behind you to randomly grab a ham, not looking at the brand, and dropped it in the cart. "To be honest, I didn't think you could even leave Brooklyn. I mean, you practically worship the city, it's a surprise seeing you outside of it."

Professor Rogers laughed, his laughter was what you imagined angels to sound like. To say you had a tiny crush on the hot professor was understandable, although, so did everyone who had eyes. The professor leaned against the freezer, his eyes never breaking from yours. "Brooklyn's nice but it's nice to get out once in a while. That's a beautiful necklace you have there."

"Thanks, I got it from my dad's friend." you said, blushing slightly at the compliment. Taking a quick look at your phone, you noted you had everything your dad had asked for. Glancing back up at the Professor Rogers, you noticed how close he was, barely a few feet away. You gave him a smile. "It was nice seeing you, Professor. I'll see you in class."

Before you could move your cart, the professor placed a hand on it, motioning for you to pause. The blond scratched the back of his head, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Do you need help with anything? I can help you load this in your car, if you want."

"I didn't realize you worked at Costco, Professor." you teased, earning the cutest blush from the blond. Giggling, you shook your head, enjoying his company a lot more than it was allowed. "Don't worry, it's fine. It's not a lot, and I wouldn't want to bother—"

"You're not." he interrupted, sheepishly staring at the floor. The professor made himself look up, smirking when he realized you were blushing. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to. Humor me?"

Call it stupidity or side effects of Steve Rogers' presence, but you wanted to spend more time with him, no matter how domestic the chore. Your smile widened, if possible, and you nodded. "Alright, if you insist. I've gotten everything I need, so I can tag along with you."

"All I really needed was some coffee," Professor Rogers held up the little plastic container filled with coffee grounds. Your thoughts immediately went to his hands wrapped around the cylinder, mentally slapping yourself for finding the simple action hot. "I'm ready to go if you are."

"Oh, okay. Let's go then."

The wall from the grocery area to the checkout was rather fun, the professor making you blush too many times to count, the smile on either of your faces never leaving. It wasn't a secret how many people fought to be in his class, guys included, mostly trying to "bond" with the professor only to get turned down every time someone had the balls to ask him. But it never stopped anyone from trying. It was almost pathetic, but very amusing in a sadistic way.

Professor Rogers held your grocery bags in his hands, effortlessly carrying them while you tried to take them back, feeling bad for having your professor help you out. The man would wave away your pleas, and you gave up as soon as you neared your car, unlocking the doors, and opened the trunk, Professor Rogers unloading all the bags inside. You bit back a smile, admiring the view, jealously wondering who would be lucky enough to end up as his wife.

He closed up the trunk once he was done, shifting his weight between his feet. "So, are you staying in Boston for the whole break or...?"

"Yup. I haven't spent much time with my dad since summer, and I've been guilted to stay in the cold since he's too stubborn to go somewhere warmer." you answered, playfully rolling your eyes. Professor Rogers walked you to the driver's side while you played with your keys, not wanting to say goodbye to him already. "What about you?"

"Me, too." said the professor, tucking his hands in his winter coat. He sighed, the smile dropping. "It was really nice to see you. I'll see you soon, sweetheart."

You nearly swooned at the nickname, cursing your heart for being so easily affected. "You, too, Professor. Happy Holidays and all that."

He laughed, walking off with a wave, the smile that had fallen now impended on his face as he walked back to his car. Steve turned around to see you get in yours, unsubtly staring at your ass. He sighed once again, a wave of sadness washing over him, the feeling he got every time he had to say goodbye to you. It would only be a couple of minutes, but it didn't make him hate it any less.

You drove off after a few seconds of getting your shit together; seeing your unbearable hot professor made you feel like a disgusting head-over-heels in love teenager. Or in other words, it made you the same as those desperate girls back on campus. You scoffed at the thought, starting your car. Hopefully, you'd see him again before class starts, but you highly doubt it.

Snow was falling, the little flurries making it harder to see through the windshield, only to stop suddenly when you reached your house. You grabbed the groceries from the trunk, easily carrying it into the house, so focused on not slipping that you hadn't noticed a very familiar car in the driveway.

Opening the door with ease, you entered the house, almost getting knocked out by the eager dog, jumping up on you. Laughing, you placed all the bags in one arm, reaching down with your free one to pet Dodger. The dog panted happily, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as it dismounted it's paws off your legs. The house had gotten awfully warm, even for you, and you immediately set the bags down to take off your coat. You hadn't noticed the shoes besides the door.

"Dad, I'm back." you announced, picking up the bags and headed to the kitchen, your gaze on the floor, careful not to slip.

Your father clapped Steve's back, the broad blond's presence gone unnoticed by you while you dropped the bags on the kitchen island. Your dad smiled. "Thanks, pumpkin. Honey, this is Steve, my buddy from college."

You turned around, facing them, a grin on your face, only to drop slightly when you saw who Steve was. There, standing in the middle of your kitchen, stood your history professor, all six feet of him, nonchalantly grinning at you. He engulfed you in a hug, leaving you breathless. "Professor?"

"Hello, sweetheart."

next >

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