#dang for some reason this one made me yearn

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Love About Fionna and Cake (Vaugish spoilers ahead)

For those who follow me, this isn't going to be an EXTENSIVE review, but it's not going to be a "Quick Thoughts" either. It's more like an in-between option because, gosh dang it, I NEED to talk about Fionna and Cake.

When it was announced there was going to be a Fionna and Cake spin-off series, my stomach immediately filled with dread, and for two reasons. First of all, I just wanted Adventure Time to be done. Not because I hated the series. Far from it, in fact. It's because with the show's finale being this big conclusion that left me feeling empty inside and with "Together Again" feeling like a better, satisfying end to the franchise AND Finn and Jake, the last thing I wanted was MORE Adventure Time. I know the show's tagline is "The fun will never end," but the fun HAS to end at some point.

Also...I wasn't really into Fionna and Cake, both as a kid and as an adult. As a kid, I found it weird that Adventure Time just had this random episode where all the characters had swapped genders for some reason and my dumb young boy brain went "Ew, girly nonsense!" I matured past that now and actually learned to appreciate how it's actually a playful jab at the fanfic community and their occasional cringiness. That being said, I still wasn't into...how weird things got with Fionna and Cake, and I was NOT ready for a whole series based on them. I mean, why would I want a series of a genderswapped Finn and Jake when I could have...Finn and Jake?

But then the show came out...and I was NOT expecting the ten-episode long emotional roller coaster that had no right being as good as it was. NOR was I expecting it to be for adults this time.

I heard about...two weeks? Yeah, two weeks before hand, I heard that Fionna and Cake would have a TV-14 rating, and that's primarily the reason why I got more interested in the show. And a part of me kind of wish I didn't know that beforehand because I kind of wanted the surprise of characters going "God dammit" and Finn stabbing a monster in it's snout, leaving a gaping bloody hole in it. Like...could you IMAGINE?

But before you say anything, Fionna and Cake, thankfully, isn't rated TV-14 JUST BECAUSE it has swears, violence, and its main character topless for...more than half the series, to be honest. In actuality, the show's rated TV-14 more or less for the themes and messages that appeal more towards adults than it would have for kids. This show is more or less for the fans who grew up with Adventure Time, whether they're the kids now in their early twenties like Fionna, or the adults that watched the show for some reason and feel the same existential dread as Simon. The show is about the two of them and their growth to learn the lesson every body and their grandma needs to learn: Just cope.

Some of us yearn for a magical world with adventures that saves us from our boring, mundane lives. Others, even as adults, feel like they don't belong in certain spaces and wish to have back their loved ones who made them feel like they DO belong. So Fionna and Cake is there to just give the harsh truth, but instead of making the show feel like a downer, it gives a beautiful yet tragic experience that says you shouldn't yearn for what you WANT and appreciate what you NEED. Fionna wanted a magical world, but she didn't NEED it. Simon wanted Betty back or to return to his madness, but he didn't NEED to. The journey these characters go on leads to Fionna needing to learn that her life is fine just the way it is and that Simon needing to learn that his life HAS purpose even if it's without his true love. As for how they go through it and what conclusions they come to...I'm not going to spoil it because it's all brilliantly done and best left for you to see for yourself. Trust me when I say there is so much about their journeys that's best left to see for yourself if you haven't. But the bottomline is that it teaches audiences that your life is just fine the way it is. You just need to see the beauty through the dread and/or tragedy.

And despite this overlaying maturity, the show is still very much Adventure Time. It's filled with characters saying goofy things and acting silly, it's just now the show can go FARTHER with its mature messages, no longer having the kiddie gloves on for the sake of the children. They can go ALL IN on the existential dread much more than they did in the past, is unafraid to explicitly kill characters, and can make the gay characters kiss and date...Okay, they probably COULD have made that last part for kids with Steven Universe and The Owl House popularizing LGBTQA+ representation in children's media, but they definitely couldn't with those first two options! And I'm so glad that despite being mature, Fionna and Cake stuck with Adventure Time's brand of charm, heart, and fun times. It's just that those fun times can be interrupted by your favorite characters dying...But don't worry. They're not the REAL characters you grow up with.

Fionna and Cake is a multiverse story, meaning the show jumps between world after world. Not only does it provide peeks into new, interesting worlds based on these "what ifs" I didn't know I wanted to see, but it also allows the writers to basically kill off every character you loved as a kid. Sometimes it's explicit by showing viewers unmoving, withered, and sometimes even BURNT corpses, and other times it's implicit with nothing viewer interpretation guiding what MIGHT be true. Adventure Time HAS gotten dark like that in the past, but this is a time when the writers really go all out without holding back an inch, and I respect that.

And as for this being a multiverse story, I know we're all starting to get sick of those, but Fionna and Cake does it in a way that takes advantage of its premise. Each universe provides a dark and twisted version of Ooo, to the benefit of teaching Simon and Fionna to find what they NEED, not give them what they WANT. Again, I won't give away HOW, but it all works really well and it's why multiverse stories like Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness and The Flash tend to fail. I talked about this last night with a buddy of mine, but a multiverse story works better when it's used to help the characters grow and provide interesting views of things that COULD HAVE happened if things went differently. Not to spit out cameos for specific fans or make jokes about how pizza is in balls or how Aquaman's dad didn't marry the queen of Atlantis. Fionna and Cake has cameos, but they're again to show how different each universe is, teach Fionna and Simon, and even reveal the tragedy that they present at times. It just happens to be done in a way that's a fun cameo for fans.

Speaking of which, it's hard to recommend Fionna and Cake because this is a spin-off that's clearly for the fans of Adventure Time. The ones who watched the show from the beginning and get all the little in-jokes, references, and call-backs that were frequent of the series. If you HAVEN'T seen the show...I'm willing to say you'd enjoy it ENOUGH, but you'd still be left confused. You COULD watch the show beforehand, and I definitely recommend you do that, but that means watching ten seasons and four specials of television just to watch ONE spin-off. Not everyone is going to have the patience to do that, and I can understand why. Just know that if you're fan, you'll definitely enjoy this.

If there's anything to complain about, the only real nitpick I have is Cake. Despite being the OTHER titular character, she...doesn't really do much or have a journey to go on. Her character is just being there for Fionna and wanting to be the magical cat she wanted to be. Only instead of coping with what she has, Cake...doesn't do that. She gets what she wants and she's fine with it, which is kind of disappointing. And as a character, she's kind of selfish, not really caring what happens to Simon just as long as SHE gets exactly what she wants. Now, she still has some great one-liners and still has an engaging purpose as a counter-argument to what Fionna needs to learn, but that doesn't change how she's pretty much the weakest part of the show, at least to me.

Fionna and Cake is definitely a show that has more strengths and weaknesses, completely shattering expectations and making a show I didn't know I needed. Would I want another season? Eh, not really. I'm fine with how things end here. But I'm glad I watched it and I'll likely rewatch it over and over again.

If you're not a fan of Adventure Time, this probably won't be your cup of tea. But if you are, then this is a solid A series for you. Check it out and see that just because the fun will never end, that doesn't make it a bad thing.

#adventure time #fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #fionna campbell #simon petrikov #cake the cat #what i thought about #what i love about #quick thoughts #what i quickly thought about

[joshlmbrt]

I am begging for people to watch Space Station 76, just so they can experience Glenn Terry 😊 Patrick's deliveries in that movie is something I can't get out of my head. (and Dr. Bot is the best.)

But, honestly, his entire filmography? Haha. There's so many... I would suggest Big Stone Gap, mainly because what his character does in it made my heart so warm, that I now yearn for someone as selfless and thoughtful as that someday. The A-Team (!!!) is a fun action movie with a great cast, Lynch is a fun character, and I want to be the dashboard in the car Patrick's sitting in you'll know what I mean if you see it. Lakeview Terrace is so dang good, and Samuel L. Jackson is so intense that everyone's able to feed off of it and elevate their acting in a way that the movie sits with you for a while. If you like Let's Kill Ward's Wife when you see it, I would highly recommend Stretch. I won't go into detail of others, but Midway, The Ledge, Passengers and Little Children are excellent movies too. Ugh, feels like I'm giving you homework... I am so sorry 😭 But, he has a habit of being in good movies, and it's all his fault. PS: Bone Tomahawk is seriously a stellar movie imo, but I just want to warn you towards the very end there is a rather visceral and gruesome scene of body dismemberment/mutilation that I just want you to be aware of. I was raised on horror movies and things don't really phase me much anymore, but when I came across it, my jaw sort of dropped? Just want to give you a heads up 💜

omg, wey …. thank you so much for this honestly - when i ask for movies to watch, THIS IS WHAT I WANT AND YOU GAVE IT TO ME !!!!

when i was looking up movies for him, i didn’t see a-team - there’s some movies that you listed that i didn’t see, so thank you for that !! (like for some reason i didn’t see fargo, yet i know he’s in one of the seasons).

i feel like i’ve seen bone tomahawk in passing while my nana was watching it, but im not to sure - i could be totally wrong 😭 but thank you for that warning !! i don’t mind horror movies, and like you said, grew up on horror movies but sometimes scenes catch me off guard (queue doctor sleep - the scene with the little boy).

but i definitely love having a long list of movies to watch and it’s been a little while since i’ve felt this excited ab watching movies !! i also wanted to add some more characters to write for, so THIS is absolutely beautiful to me 😭

(OH!!! OH!!! i also watched barry munday the other day and i cackled non-stop most of the time. i miss when romcoms were actual romcoms.)

#cherry answers ·˚ ༘ #wey 💐 #THIS IS WHAT I WANTED. #wey is the best ; absolutely

[a-snowpoff]

Clothes stealing Papyrus headcanons pls?

Pfff heheh, okay so I’m just going to call him athleisure Papyrus and the reason I made him in the first place was because @mmhinman shared some brain rot with me that planted the idea that Papyrus borrowing my clothes would just end up looking like a crop top on him. I think we can agree Papyrus looks absolutely amazing in crop tops~

Now the first drawing I made of Papyrus borrowing a sweater was def meant to be more typical classic Papyrus. He was cleaning around the house and found your sweater draped over a chair in the bedroom. He was about to toss it in with the rest of the laundry but then it hit him, your scent, and it was lovely. The familiarity making his smile wider. Perhaps it didn’t need to go into the wash quite yet, it looked clean, it smelled pleasant, to him at least. As he turned the garment in his hands he thought to himself that it might even fit him, perhaps a bit short in length but he knew he could rock it. With an all too giddy expression he burst into his signature Nyeh Heh Hehs as he admired the fact that it did indeed fit and it looked so amazing in fact that he admitted he might be wearing it for a while.

Now then… I think what more people might be wondering about is the version I keep redrawing in the same athleisure outfit, where the top is more of a hoodie with a mesh front…….. WELLP……. I REALLY liked the idea of Papyrus borrowing my clothes and I love wearing cool but comfy athleisure and I was like dang… Papyrus wearing things that I consider “my style”…. yes please! Not to mention I love drawing a suave Papyrus with half lidded eyes. It’s more of a guilty pleasure as I fall deep into a Papyrus shaped simp hole lol but let’s jump into headcanons I have swirling around in my head for him.

Post Pacifist Papyrus, an undetermined amount of years on the surface have passed. Papyrus has finally had the chance to make more friendships, but has ultimately found satisfaction in his closer friendships with Undyne, Frisk, Sans, and Flowey. With no royal guard being needed he eventually turned his passion and drive into mastering the art of expertly crafting noodle dishes of every kind! Not only that but he has built a reputation with the local youth, for crafting the most clever and thrilling puzzle installments at the local parks (minus the spikes and flames… though he did try to make an argument for them) . Alright alright why am I saying all this you might wonder? What I’m trying to express is that Papyrus has built a life that he feels a lot more happy and content with. There is no longer a pressure to go above and beyond for what he wants, don’t get me wrong he definitely still goes above and beyond, but now it’s with more of a calm confidence. He may no longer struggle to gain friendship or recognition, but over the years he realized he’s still yearning for something…. or perhaps someone. It was love at first sight when he finally laid his eyes on you. There were no doubts, definitely not compared to all the other unsuccessful dates he had been on. This time he felt an instant connection. He may no longer be trying to capture a human but he was certainly looking to capture your heart. This Papyrus has definitely finished reading the dating hand book, and properly returned it to the librarby. In fact he’s read several more similar books on the surface and by similar books…. I mean he actually switched over to reading romance manga thinking they offered sound advice and examples of how to romance a potential date mate. Technically, Undyne was the one to suggest the manga route and Papyrus, always eager to learn about combat or cooking from a trusted friend, had no reason to question this advice. This inevitably lead him down a path towards reading romance novels and eventually….. fanfic (hehehehe LOL). So now we have a Papyrus with a cool confidence, fueled by the power of every romance trope, convinced that he knows how to sweep you off your feet and make you fall for him. Well it worked, because the two of you are dating and he can tell how much you’re enjoying every second of it. Papyrus just can’t help how much he loves seeing how effective all his research was because it reliably gets you to blush your brightest when he puts it to use. Every win just fueling his confidence further and further, he has no doubt that his next plan will work like a charm and you can see it from his expression too.…. hmmm yeah those are the thoughts swirling in my head for now related to clothes stealing, athleisure Papyrus hahaha

#ask snowpoff #snowpoff writes #snowpoff headcanons #athleisure papyrus

[nmsthim]

POETRY SLAM:MINDLESS BEHAVIOR

WHATS UP WITH THAT!!! big mouth taking up the whole space smize to the gawds, I like your face right in y'all face, glecning off concentrate everyday is picture day lack of me? u up in anti, politics heard em say donkey noisy! there's A grey space of the situation ain't no exposing me no need to wait no longer Captain save a ho is here the longest yard or wondering anymore light it up and take action fast feed, light camera like magic I'm flashy you need me that's why I need to have all four doors its as simple as that, can you take charge ? abuse of the word, otherwise known as a public charmer is that a fact, what you about, you can hold it against me for stating facts, and get down to the nitty gritty I came to break bread, to get these fix, don't pull a fast one on me Bling fury, shut up the deaf dumb and blind spirit. I came I saw and conquer and yet I'm feel fix gimme my money back, having me in here with vain glories country ass doctor barber claiming Brandon and its a girl pulling hos ponytail, seeing lames, and bragging rights I never in team, in the presence such a strange fright. friendships, and rock the boat it came with, down to the boots, shiver me timbers, y'all gross for flood warnings, head in the wrong places…

I NEED A BREAKTHROUGH hurting in my soul might need some whiskey. pour it up drink, dang just slipped me a mickey another one, this parchness turn into a lonely soul. mics on a sound system, I'm running low up out my face, picture me the biggest shone, trying to out do me, this a stick up, cant leave without a better outcome its the 9 th inning goodness gracious lord have mercy on my soul what have I done to envision thus Far spiritual warfare I'm fighting as if my life depends on it. Raising my own damn self, sensei and jacking, ready or not here I come. this life that we living, together forevermore, it had to happen never knew to a situation, you just gotta understand, something. think outta the box and found what I face going in . you outta line , thinking I'm put up with you. no amount of deformation of character can add up to this. birds of a feather flock together, less there be danger. going the longest yard, pulling all connections. made up my mind and band together to join forces. I'm pulling your card.teasing a blue eye soldier This not an ordinary person b I'm fine as fuck. me vs me not needing another in the picture. you must think I'm booboo the foo, fighters and flight got them losing sleep. release the hounds like I was in a band of thieves, its the little things, they calling me like it rung a bell. and what! waxing and waning is it time yet no matter who's speaking the same language period. No voids, can be filled, fixed my eyes do you wrong like I never knew you. what would you do in a sticky situation. don't vow to nobody who don't pay your bills.and rent Super lets keep it moving I'm yearning for something moore and I'm noting that the darkness never did care if I was drowning. look on the bright side of things, sunny like nobody else could shine that bright. Touching the sun, somebody is going to have an asthma attack I should be right about finish and ready to amp you up if you didn't have done the same thing. What's A retort to a runaway ,love, love you moore, was there any other girl. cheater advice or how to tell a lie, the constant steady stream of lies detected. purple flocking like eggplant farms that cammm outta nowhere. break up the ice and make up the days break what's word of mouth anyways we not going down we not the help.

I LIKE IT LIKE THAT losing his marbles try to challenge me !? you yourself know where's the goofy at challenge accepted you a wanna be celebraty trying the life, 99 times couldn't get it right always need a reason choose a thot for picking you not up for the battle you just a basser show me the proof in the pudding telling me I'm nothing I got a feeling can't tell me nothing its like I contracted a bee sting a charge a bite some might something I m not going back to the way it used to be see past it like I I'm reading read em and weep ready set go no consequences if I believe it where you ought to be for this conclusion you must have me mistaken hot like I'm the next Jen many man manne Pac yo never heard of a sticker or just for kicks I love the living day lights outta you workout a knuck and buck cranking you the type to leave not come back for more but nothing comes back void what's made for me Skye to see you still not done ill be that one to say here kingdom come the grand special like I put my foot in it. I mean put it in you mouth straight out the kitchen . Saw you and roll up a I'm down for a killing might guy gotta have some smoke for a big figure Waited so long, had I cut a year to a meal lion standing on bidness like I'm the stallion get these dividends like I'm here for sit in set in stone not all that glitters is gold

#music #audible #album #sing #rap #rhymes #relatable memes

[snuggetfish]

hi :) that “what about me” comic with Majima that you reblogged a little while ago made me a bit sad thinking about how lonely he’d be in Y3...so listen, I think you’re the ideal person to make it right.

therefore pls can I request some HCs about Majima paying a surprise visit to Okinawa, initially because he’s missed annoying Kiryu and thinks a fight on the beach would be rad but he ends up leaving as Everyone’s Ojisan Goro

The image of this is so dang cute! 💙

As you said, Majima would absolutely show up unannounced, but very much prepared to make this a long vacation. He’s got his shorts, his flipflops, his trusty aviators (still in his shirt pocket for now) and a really wide-brimmed bucket hat that he somehow managed to get in snake print. All in all, he looks like a cross between a tourist and a fisherman gone half mad from a heatstroke, but it’s the eyepatch that gives him away of course. That and the high-pitched “Kiryu-chan!”

I think initially the Morning Glory kids would be a little wary of him, taking cues from their oji-san’s attitude. Kiryu can’t help but think that Majima’s brought trouble back with him, so he just wants to get straight to the core of the matter: why? Why would the Mad Dog insert himself into thier peaceful life?

The first superficial reason gets revealed immediately when the two have their first throw down right in the orphanage’s courtyard. Majima’s supposedly here to “train” Kiryu, keep him from going soft and flabby from so many beach naps... Though maybe, as the days pass and Kiryu reluctantly assigns Majima an unused room to sleep in... hidden motives and talents get revealed.

What surprises Kiryu the most is how good Majima is with kids. I think he kind of assumes Majima would be a wreck in all aspects of his life that don’t involve violence, so to see him listen so attentively to the children’s stories, interject with eager questions and then launch into a wacky tale of his own... it feels like he’s seeing a side of Majima that he never thought existed. The facade is cracking and he’s starting to take shape in Kiryu’s mind as more than just a “background character”, dependable but not worth getting close to. Majima’s, in fact, human and he’s here to... what exactly? Spend time with the children? Try out the quiet life?

Whenever Kiryu tries to direct these questions at Majima, he seems to hide behind his shades and change subjects, usually finding something else to stick his nose into that cuts the talk short. 

He’ll let the little munchkins bury him in the sand, giving instructions on how to shape him into a fearsome sand snake or even...a dragon? By the time he realizes he’s actually a mer-man now, it’s too late to escape 🧜‍♂️

He’s a bit reluctant to drop his shirt around the kids at first, but once he realizes they’re far more comfortable with tattoos than you’d expect, he gets a little boost of pride seeing how in awe they are of his Hannya. The touch of curious little hands prodding at him stirs up cozy, unfamiliar emotions in Majima’s heart. Having their bright smiles beamed at him feels like the most rewarding thing ever, so much so that he kinda... loses track of his original goal. 

He threatens Kiryu with one “serious” fight every day, always at 5pm sharp, always on the sand arena he had the kids trace out... and then... it’s 5:15 and Majima is nowhere to be found. A quick talk with Haruka reveals that he left a while ago, after asking the children to “show him the best dessert places in town”, which is of course his pretense for treating them all to something tasty.

So yeah, he does become Everyone’s Uncle Goro pretty quickly, but he’s also the uncle who eventually can’t ignore Nishida’s frequent, insistent calls anymore. He needs to go back... 

But for Majima this trip is an experience that shows him there are people out there who see him for more than what he typically appears: a deranged gangster with a thirst for blood. He’s also a man with a big soft spot for children and an occasional yearning for a life outside of the bounds of organized crime. Yeah, he’s bound by guilt and duty, but still, he’s allowed to dream sometimes... right?  

#anon asks #snugasks #majima goro

[cheesy09]

Love of the Stars

Dang! dang! dang! It’s the 9th of April, which means it’s - drumroll please - *drumroll* ...Kiro’s birthday!!! 🥳 HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY TREASURE!! My sun and moon, my lovesong, my everything! I will always cherish the love and happiness that you give me. May you always be happy today and every day, and know that your Miss Chips will always stay by your side, no matter what 🥺💕  

Pairing: Kiro x Reader Word Count: 1,483 Genres: Fluff

“The stars are so beautiful today...” Kiro sighed, his body language visibly content as he laid on the grass next to me. His blue eyes held an incredibly tender beauty within them, making him even more dazzling than the stars that twinkled above us.

For Kiro’s birthday this year, I’d somehow managed to find this secluded area in a forest that I thought would be perfect to set up a fairytale tea party. It was held in the evening, once Kiro was done with his public birthday celebrations. But that wasn’t a problem. After all, the spot I’d chosen had also happened to be an amazing place for stargazing, making the location even more perfect. 

I smiled slightly and looked back up at the sky. He was right. The stars were incredibly beautiful that night, as if they’d purposely decided to look their best for the superstar on this special day. “Yeah, they are...” I agreed with him softly, and then whispered in my heart—

But they’re not as beautiful as you are.

“...Thank you so much for today, Miss Chips,” Kiro whispered, and I felt him turn his body towards me, his warm breath falling against my ear. My heart leaped, but I turned on my side to face him, our faces just inches apart from each other. His warm smile was soft and almost dream-like, as if with the slightest touch, it would disappear from sight. The thought made my heart tremble.

What if he leaves again, I thought to myself. After all, he was still a member of Black Swan. There was no telling when he’d take off to save the world again, or what could happen to him in the process. I finally got him back after all those months of painful separation. If I lost him again...

My hand instinctively reached out to rest against his cheek, as if wanting to reassure myself that this was real, the feeling only settling down once I felt the familiar heat of his skin. Kiro’s eyes widened a bit, slightly shocked at my actions. But almost immediately his face relaxed again, as if he sensed my emotions and deepened his smile. He brought up a hand to cover my own and tilted his head slightly to place a soft kiss on my palm. 

“Don’t worry,” he said quietly, pressing our foreheads together. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Mmm,” I murmured, welcoming the intimacy as I lightly brushed the skin under his eye with my thumb. I smiled slightly. “How do you always know what I’m thinking even before I can say anything?”

“Shouldn’t you already know that by now, Miss Chips?” Kiro chuckled in a low voice as he smiled with playful chastisement. “It’s because you and I are always connected, of course! Look, even the stars know it.”

He suddenly pulled away and pointed at the sky, his look visibly brightening. My eyes followed the direction of his fingers and I looked up. 

What I saw took my breath away.

Shooting stars - hundreds of them - flew across the sky like brilliant streaks of light, making the night sky even prettier than usual. The way they appeared was reminiscent of the fine brush strokes of a master painter, intending to create a masterpiece. For some reason, it felt like the sky was granting us its blessings on this special night. 

I was awestruck. I never imagined that we would get to see a sight like this together. But then again, with Kiro, even the most unbelievable things could come true.

Suddenly, I felt something touch my hand and before I could look down to see what it was, I felt Kiro’s fingers tightly entwine with my own. The familiar temperature both heated my heart but also soothed my nerves, bringing me endless comfort. Looking at the stars and having Kiro lying here next to me, I was suddenly reminded of something.

“Speaking of stars... I wanted to ask - why did you decide to name that song of yours ‘Love of the Stars’?” 

I tightened my grip on his hand. Kiro looked at me quietly, as if not expecting the question, and turned back to face the sky. We laid there in silence, and I almost expected him not to answer. But after a few seconds his gentle voice wafted through the air, the tenderness within his words almost palpable. 

“It’s because... It’s what I believe love to be,” he said, a fleeting look of yearning flashing across his face. “Shining; like the stars. Bestowing its light upon everyone, without discrimination. Illuminating people and giving them the courage to keep moving forward.” He chuckled and squeezed my fingers slightly. “At least... that's the kind of person I want to be. To bring others warmth when they really need it.”

I watched him while he watched the stars, his appearance almost delicate. The wind caressed his bangs, and swept through his perfect blonde locks, making him seem like a vision right out of a painting. Too beautiful to exist. 

I felt my heart clench with unspoken emotions. “I think you already are.”

Kiro let out a self-deprecating smile and shook his head. His tone seemed to carry a sigh along with it as he spoke. “Au contraire, Miss Chips. I think I still have a long way to go.”

I frowned, not exactly surprised by his answer. Why is it that he couldn’t see it? The happiness that he gives to everyone, especially me. Maybe he hasn’t realized it, but he’s managed to change people’s lives, save them even. In more ways than one. I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to sigh.

“Kiro, let me tell you a story,” I began, keeping my gaze fixed on the sky above me. It was at moments like these where I’d trusted my heart to do the talking, and lay out what I truly felt in that moment. “There was once a girl who was having a really tough time with work one day. Her company had lost its biggest sponsor and was on the verge of collapse. Just when she thought that all hope was lost, she ran into an unexpected boy at the supermarket, when they accidentally reached out to grab the same bag of chips.” 

I felt Kiro’s eyes on me, burning into my skin, but I didn’t dare to look at him. I just let my mind wander, back to that fateful day, when I met the most important person in my life. The boy whose happiness meant the world to me. “The boy was handsome and had the best smile the girl had ever seen on a person. He had talked to her, laughed with her and even offered to appear on her shows. That may have been something trivial to the boy, but that first meeting filled the girl with new-found hope and courage to keep moving forward.”

Once I was done talking, I mustered up the courage to face him, rapidly turning over to him till I was hovering slightly above him, my chest almost pressing against his. Kiro’s eyes were wide with surprise and a hint of a blush stained his cheeks. For some reason, that adorable look of his made me smile even more.

“Whether you know it or not, Kiro, ever since we met, you have always been illuminating me and giving me hope,” I said. “In fact you inspire me to become better, every single day. I can’t help but feel like I’m the luckiest person on the planet to know you, and I will always be grateful for that.”

I lowered myself and planted a kiss on the tip of his nose, eliciting a tiny joyful giggle out of him. 

“Happy Birthday, my beloved superstar,” I whispered, smiling in satisfaction. 

Before I could stop myself, my lips were on his, gently encasing them in warmth, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. 

Kiro’s lips were soft and tender, like the fresh dew on sakura flowers. He responded eagerly, his mouth moving against mine in a steady rhythm. He brought up one of his hands to twine his fingers into my hair and pulled me closer, effectively deepening the kiss.

I was all too happy to comply, raking my hand through his gorgeous golden locks, tightening the grip of our laced fingers. His lips and tongue were scorching, but I couldn’t help pulling myself closer to him, wanting to drown myself in that heat. After all, he was the one I’d been waiting for my whole life. The one I’d dream about every single day and night. My heart would always belong to him and only him.

I felt Kiro smile against my lips with the whisper of a single ‘I love you,’ and I basked in the knowledge that the stars were witnesses to this enchanting moment in time. 

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───  

Thank you so much for reading! If you want to read more of my other works, you’ll find them in my Masterlist. 

#mr love queen's choice #mr love queen's choice kiro #mr love #mr love kiro #mr love fanfiction #mlqc #mlqc kiro #mlqc fanfiction #HBD my beloved Superstar! ❤

[botherkupo]

heroes and lullabies (chapter 9)

new chapter is up!

read on ao3

9: Tradition

Marinette is exhausted. The last thing she feels like doing is playing Ultimate Mecha Strike with her parents, as is the tradition on Thursday nights, but they’re deaf to her protests.

“Come on,” Dad says, steering her towards the living area. “Take a break.”

“But I—”

“Uh-uh.” He waggles his finger at her. “You don’t want to break tradition, do you? You’ll get seven years’ worth of bad luck if you do.”

Her nose scrunches. “You just made that up.”

“Of course he did,” Mum says, taking her seat on the sofa in front of the television. “But would it really be such a bad thing to play a few rounds with us?”

“We just want to spend some quality time with you,” Dad adds, giving her the big puppy eyes.

Dang it. He used the Quality Time card and the puppy eyes. That is just fighting dirty.

“Fine,” Marinette says, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically. “If you wanna get your butts kicked at Ultimate Mecha Strike so badly, I’ll oblige.”

Perhaps the distraction will actually help. She’ll just brood on her bed like a depressed slug if she goes to her room.

Dad gets the console and controllers ready. He pauses, fingers brushing over the fourth controller. “Chat Noir hasn’t been here in a while,” he says.

Heavy stones sink to the pit of Marinette’s stomach. Just the mention of his name is enough to squeeze any semblance of happiness from her heart.

“I’m sure he’s just busy, Tom,” Mum says, though she doesn’t meet his gaze.

“Well, it’s a shame we’ve lost out fourth. Can’t do team battles now.”

The stones get heavier. They drag Marinette down, put pressure on her chest. It hurts to breath. Hurts to stay silent.

He’s not coming back! she wants to scream. He can never come back!

The running tally they’ve been keeping for all their little team competitions means nothing now. No more bake offs in the kitchen. No more video game battles. She hasn’t just lost a partner; she’s lost a person who’s become so dear and integral to her life that he has his own spot at the table.

Dad rubs his chin. “Come to think of it, he hasn’t been seen fighting akumas with Ladybug for a while either, has he?”

Marinette swallows the wave of pain that chokes her throat. “Are we going to play or not?”

“Hey now,” Dad says with a frown, “there’s no need to be so impatient. I’m just worried, is all. It would be nice if he let us know what’s going on.”

Mum is quiet. Her gaze is fixed on her lap and there’s something sad about the slight downward tilt of her lips and the creases on her brow.

Does she know something? Has Chat Noir spoken to her since losing his miraculous? The urge to ask is so strong that Marinette has to bite the inside of her cheek. Ladybug might be able to talk to her mum about the situation, but Marinette isn’t supposed to know anything. There’s no way she can prod for answers without exposing herself.

Marinette’s fingers curl into her palms.

“He’s not our son, Tom,” Mum says gently. “He doesn’t owe us explanations for why he doesn’t visit or why he hasn’t been fighting at Ladybug’s side. Besides, I’m sure his reasons are good ones.”

Dad shakes his head. “That’s what worries me the most. I always got the impression he doesn’t have a good home life, and now he’s suddenly not visiting or helping Ladybug. It’s not like him.”

More stones sink to the pit of Marinette’s stomach. She doesn’t know too much about Chat Noir’s personal life; he’s always been careful not to say anything that will expose him. But she has noticed when he’s turned up at her house with a smile that slips off too easily. She’s noticed the yearning glances he sneaks her parents, as well as the flashes of sadness that often follow. And then there’s the little comments—so innocuous yet saying so much.

He’s lonely. He doesn’t get much affection from his family. These are the things she’s pieced together.  

“Can we just play the game, please?” Marinette says, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. She doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. Her throat already feels too tight and her eyes prickle, though no moisture has formed.

Mum and Dad exchange a glance.

“Alright, alright,” Dad says, and hands her a controller. “Let’s play.”

oOo

Marinette loses every game. She eventually claims she has a headache and that she just wants to get an early night. This time, her parents don’t protest.

She curls up on the chaise in her bedroom, tears wetting her cheeks. It’s exhausting. She’s so sick of crying. So sick of feeling this way.

Tikki strokes her hair. “I’m so—”

A soft knock at the trapdoor.

Tikki’s eyes widen and she zips up the spiralling stairs, hiding out of sight.

“Marinette,” Mum says, pushing the trapdoor open. “I brought you some chamomile tea.”

Marinette blinks away tears.

“Oh, Marimoo,” Mum says, switching to the old pet name of her childhood, the one that always manages to speak comfort to her heart. The tea is placed on the floor and then arms are wrapped tight around Marinette. “This is about Chat Noir, isn’t it?”

A small sniff. “How did you guess?”

“You seemed upset when he got mentioned, and I know you’re close to him.”

Fresh tears roll down Marinette’s cheeks.

“Did he”—Mum pauses, as if choosing her words with care—“did he say anything to you?”

“No.”

The simple word is a vicious stab to her heart. She’s so tired of lying.

Mum rubs her back. “Well, perhaps he’ll turn up again soon.”

The words sound too cheerful. Too hollow. Mum is lying too.

All the breath is squeezed from Marinette’s lungs. So, he really must have got in contact with Mum after losing his miraculous. Or maybe Mum just pieced it together. It doesn’t matter. Either way, his identity and his whereabouts are a secret that is not hers to know. She’s been shut out, just as much as he’s been shut out.

Marinette’s chin wobbles and she buries her face into her mum’s chest. “I’m scared,” she says in a small voice.

“About what?”

“That I’m never going to see him again.”

Mum’s arms tighten around her. “I’m sure you will, Marimoo.”

But Marinette can’t grasp onto that hope. Her heart has been squeezed and cracked beyond repair and she doesn’t know how to mend it without him at her side.

“Perhaps you should invite some of your friends over for a sleepover,” Mum says.

“I don’t—”

“I know you miss Chat Noir, but staying up here all alone won’t help.” Mum leans back to meet her gaze, thumbs gently wiping away her tears. “Your friends will want to be there for you, and who knows, perhaps they need the company too.”

Marinette frowns. Maybe Mum does have a point. It had been nice to go out with Alya, and getting ice cream with Adrien had been good as well—at least until the akuma had interrupted. She is worried about Adrien, though. He still hasn’t told her what’s been bothering him. The shadows under his eyes have got darker and his smiles are too much like the glossy fake ones he shows to the camera.

Would he enjoy a sleepover with friends? Would his father even let him come?

“I guess a sleepover wouldn’t hurt,” Marinette says.

She can only try.

#ml #heroes and lullabies #my writing

[sukunastoy]

4, 8, 12, and 16

From this post <- Send me an ask!

4. what are you looking forward to?

~Definitely looking forward to summer right now, cause I do NOT handle the cold well. I get chills down into my bones and I'm just a walking icecube for about 4 months.

ಥ_ಥ Anything under 75℉/24℃ is frigid to me.

That and looking forward to Season 2 of JJK cause FUQ. I need to see that Shibuya Arc animated.

8. have you ever cried because you were so annoyed?

That's actually the main reason for a lot of my tears is if I'm angry/annoyed cause otherwise, I literally can't cry. 😅 But I just hate feeling so out of control or unable to get away from someone or a situation that is driving me insane/crazy so it just comes out as a mess of angry tears.

12. what is something you want right now?

I want a house right now, like in all honesty. I'm sure it sounds cliché but I yearn for that little pipe dream of a home and a yard with lush grass. I really want my own grass, as weird as it sounds, cause I'm a very anxious person and I calm down with 'touching' the earth tbh. As silly as it sounds.

But when I can put my toes in the grass/dirt I find it insanely relaxing and calming. Yes I could literally go outside whenever and do that in a park or what not but, then its just weird cause I don't have a dog or kids so I'd just be this weirdo standing barefoot in dirt amongst strangers. 😂 At least in my own yard it could make a bit more sense, maybe?

That and I'm tired of sharing walls with neighbors. They're too dang loud and I want to just scream cause I can hear doors slamming, stomping, barking you name it. Like, shush!! I know its an apartment, and I know noise is a given, but damn, some people are like, EXCESSIVE.

And I really want season 2 of JJK...

16. have you ever wanted to tell someone something but you didn’t?

Ugh yes...the peril of my existence. I can't even begin to recall the amount of times I wanted to tell someone something but just let it pass... Even from simple funny things all the way to a dying family member.

I avoided telling a couple of girls I was close friends with that I really liked them because my parents were very anti-everything so I just kept it to myself and that moment left forever. Same with a few guys I liked cause in my parents minds if I was into boys, I was a slut, but if I was into girls, I was gay. And if I was into no one, that was bad too apparently?? I'm like what the heck ya'll even want from me?? (Fast forward to today and I now know I'm demisexual.) Missed opportunities to have a connection with someone I felt extremely close to. It sucked.

I'm super weird about death too, so, unfortunately when someone I love/care for is dying, I can't say like anything to them. I just clam up and can't speak even though its like, my LAST chance to actually tell them something. I've missed out on telling several people in my life (be it possible relationships or family) whom I love how I feel about them and, its a very depressing thing.

Don't do this. It sucks. Shoot your shot, shower your loved one in your words of love and care. （；´д｀）ゞ

Thanks for the curious questions! I've either intrigued you or made you think I'm even more of a weirdo! ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ

#ask me stuff #pick a number to ask about #this really makes me wonder about myself tbh

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

I've been struggling with the idea that God is perfect and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Between covid and racial injustice, I've been finding it harder and harder to believe that God is perfect. I know that a lot of these issues stem from human actions, but I just don't understand why God lets it happen, or why God made us this way. The worst part is, I don't know who to talk to about this. I can't bring myself to tell my mom I believe God is good but not perfect. (1/2)

I told God how I felt as soon as I felt it, even though it feels blasphemous or something. I still believe that God is ultimately good, but if we are made in God's image and are so deeply flawed, how can God be perfect? I kinda think that God is ultimately one of us, just trying their best. (2/2)

______

Hey there, anon. Thanks for reaching out; I’m happy to hear you’ve been able to tell God about your feelings and questions, and I pray They will guide you towards the answers you yearn for.

I will be honest with you and tell you that I certainly don’t have all the answers about why there is so much suffering and pain in the world if 1) God is perfect / all-powerful and  2) God is Good, loves us and longs for our flourishing. It’s something I wonder all the dang time! In fact, I even have a poem about how the first thing I’m gonna ask God is why suffering exists. 

I’ll share what I’ve been able to find on this issue of God’s role or lack thereof in suffering (often called “theodicy” by theologians) and welcome you to the journey!

_______

First things first, I recently responded to someone asking about whether it’s okay to question God by saying, yes! Indeed, asking questions of God and reconsidering what we’ve been told about God is a vital part of our faith lives and can enrich our relationship with God. 

So if you’re worried that it’s wrong of you to wonder about whether God’s perfect, that it’s blasphemy to consider it, see the ask for more on that.

_______

One other thing I’ll also say before getting into the meat of this post -- I invite you to reflect on what you mean when you talk about perfection. What does it mean to you to hear that God is or is not “perfect,” or that a human being is or is not “perfect”? 

Is it about omnipotence and/or omniscience, God’s ability to know and see and control everything? (This is the idea I’ll be focusing on most in this post.)

Is it God’s sinlessness? When you wonder whether God isn’t perfect, is that about God maybe being able to make mistakes, to mess up, to be wrong?

In biblical Greek, the word “perfect,” τέλειος, is more about completion or wholeness. When the New Testament speaks of God being “perfect,” therefore, it’s about how God is complete, not broken up, not lacking any part of their “essence,” of what makes God God. How does this idea of perfection play into your idea of God as perfect or imperfect? Must God be all-powerful in order to be whole or complete? 

And what are the consequences of God not being perfect? Of God being less than whole, or of God being capable of messing up, or of God not having full control over creation? How does that impact us as beings created in this God’s image, and as worshippers of this God? All stuff I invite you to reflect on over time! But let me get back to the point of this post before I go too far down this rabbit hole! 

_______ 

Time to share lots of posts with you that talk about this theodicy issue, this issue of God’s place in suffering:

This post offers a quick introduction to the issues at play in the question of theodicy -- including whether it’s possible to conclude that God is not as omnipresent or omniscient as we are told!

So, as you see, you are not by any means the first person to wonder whether God is “perfect” or omnipotent. 

This post goes into more detail about the idea of a self-limiting God. 

The asker to whom I respond is curious about how God’s omnipotence relates to human free will. I list out options for what we can believe about God based on the suffering we see around us -- that God isn’t actually all powerful; that God doesn’t actually care as much about us as we thought; or that God imposes limits on Her own power. 

Is [X bad thing happening] God’s will? -- more on God limiting Their own power because of how deeply They respect our free will. 

In this post, I describe my understanding of suffering as often being a result of God’s respect of our free will. I say that God grants humanity a whole heap of freedom. While yes, God has the power to control how every little thing turns out, we may reason that God does not exercise that power, does not choose to work as a puppetmaster over us, since that would mean that even acts of suffering are willed and caused by God. Free will gives us a hand in how events turn out.

This concept may be one you want to explore as you wonder why God made us as Xe did -- free beings who often misuse that freedom to harm ourselves or others, to exploit Creation, and so on. 

Is suffering a sign of us losing God’s favor? Does God ever turn Their back on us? 

To sum up that post, I argue that much of the suffering of the world is human-caused and systemic; to look at an issue and claim it means God is punishing us or turning God’s back on us denies our role in the suffering or the experiences of those who suffer for wrongs not their own. God is with us, God longs for justice and our freedom and prosperity, but we are the instruments that can work to end suffering both on individual and systemic levels. 

I think this speaks to your idea of God ultimately just being one of us and trying their best -- while that is not my own understanding of God, you and I share the idea that God is right here with us and struggling alongside us. 

A couple other posts of interest:

This quote talks about how God’s power doesn’t have to look like imperialist ideas of power -- if God is omnipotent, does that have to be about total control?

In this post I talk about how one reason many people, including many of the biblical authors, interpret suffering as a punishment from God or otherwise directly caused by God is that it helps them feel a sense of control over a situation that they are otherwise helpless to stop. There are other quotes about God’s self-limiting and co-suffering. 

A reflection on God’s place in grief

“Suffering is one of the places where God is most intimately present”

________

Hopefully exploring some of these linked resources will be useful to you as you continue to bring your questions to God! 

The last thing I’ll suggest to you since you are intrigued by the idea of a God who is ultimately one of us and just trying their best is to explore the humanity of Jesus, who is God incarnate as one of us. I’ve got a tag on #the human Jesus that can be a good place for you to start exploring! And you might enjoy how the Gospel of Mark really emphasizes Jesus’ humanity (as opposed to really honing in on his divinity). 

Feel free to come to me with more questions as you journey; it’s important for all of us to be able to share our questions not only with God but to be able to share them with one another. There is so much we can learn from each other. 

#Anonymous #theodicy #god's power #the whole time i wrote this i've had that 'what if god was one of us' song #by joan osborne stuck in my head lol #omnipotence #the nature of god

[terrifictrauma]

Stripped of goodbye

Soon after the surgical room emptied, I was sent into the recovery room.  Luke asked me if I wanted him to come to the dark room, walled with sheets.  I told him to stay with Naomi.  I didn’t want her to die without one of us there.  To this day, I do not know what they did to her in those long hours.  I sat in my new bed as my thoughts raced.  Fear spasms would come and go.  I yearned to hold her to my chest and kiss her.  I wanted to feel as close to her on the outside as she was to me on the inside.  After a while, my mom came to sit with me.  

She was such a welcome presence at that time.  She seemed peaceful; not panicked.  She projected calm and security, which is exactly what I needed.  Most of my thoughts were on my daughter and her well-being, but I couldn’t help but to think what my mother was like after she had her four children.  Did she snuggle and kiss them?  Did she cry after their births?  Did she look at me with relief and say, “Welcome to the world, beautiful girl?”  Did my siblings and I go to her breast?  Did we whimper?  Were we calm, or did we cry for the warmth we had just left?  I was thankful for her and that her babies weren’t swept away.  I had gratitude for all four of us being healthy.  I couldn’t imagine anyone else going through what I was enveloped in at that time.  Then, I was proud of her.  I was so proud of her.  Her baby was experiencing the hardest thing she had ever witnessed, and yet she was so firmly relaxed.  I rested.   

As I prayed for Naomi’s guardian angel to use all her power to protect her in every breath, my mind wondered.  I thought that her guardian angel must be visible to her.  Maybe they played together in my womb.  Perhaps they were the best of friends.  I hoped for that, just as much as I hoped they could communicate.  That thought soothed my mind.  Even if no one could physically hold her, maybe the angel was...or Jesus...maybe the arms of Mary.  

I kept asking for status updates.  My mother-in-law brought Mia to me briefly.  She was doing a great job at keeping her entertained as her baby sister came.  I appreciated her more than I ever had.  She too was calm and collected, and I think that helped Mia too.  Mia is a very empathetic soul and can read chaos easily.  She had seen enough of it with me to know when I was off.  Yet, she was enjoying herself and was excited to meet her.  She couldn’t though.  Siblings weren’t allowed, due to respiratory virus season.  I hope that wasn’t hard on her in hindsight.  

When I was flown to Denver, months before, my friend found a priest for us.  I insisted Naomi Grace be baptized, and I was going to do everything in my power to make that happen.  Since she wasn’t born that volatile night, it obviously didn’t happen.  I had his number though, and he was notified of the birthday.  I’ve since seen pictures and disjointed video of her baptism.  It occurred as I lay in recovery.  Godparents weren’t present.  There was no white gown, no family pictures, no cake, and no celebration.  It was a solemn baptism and blessing.  I don’t even know the name of the priest.  Luke and I were going to soon become accustomed to celebrations and holidays in the hospital.

I became very anxious.  I got pushy.  I insisted on getting out of recovery to see my baby.  I was growing in anger because my body hurt so bad.  Because of my “cardiac issue,” I wasn’t given the same type/amount of medication for my surgery.  I found out days later from Luke that I wasn’t given much of anything for pain.  My adrenaline was pushing me through though.  I told the recovery nurse I would get up and walk if they didn’t wheel me to her.  I begged to make it go faster.  I did NOT want Naomi to die without seeing my face, and I hers.

I was rolled down a long oddly colorful hallway and buzzed into the NICU.  I rode past pods of babies and families, only separated by small walls or curtains.  There were tiny babies everywhere.  I recall the faces of the parents.  Most of them sat next to the cribs.  They looked worn and tattered by the clock.  Many also looked frightened and concerned.  Some of them would half smile at me as I rolled by, and I felt as though I had just been inducted into a sorority.  The birth was the rush, and the NICU was the initiation.

At the end of the cubicles, I saw Luke standing over the crib.  I looked at his face, hoping to see relaxed features.  I was reading his expression hard in order to gauge the situation and prepare myself.  As I got closer, I almost didn’t want to actually see her.  Would she be purple?  Was she bloody?  Did they have lines and cords all over her?  I was scared because I didn’t want to be shocked.  I felt a hand on my shoulder, but no one was there, and I knew her guardian angel was.  I couldn’t stand but I could see through her clear crib box. 

She had her father’s eyes and hair color.  She was so small, but much bigger than the other babies I had just wheeled past.  Her little tummy was round like a beach ball.  I knew that must be her kidneys, and a nurse assured me it was. Autosomal recessive polycystic kidney disease is a disorder causing enlarged and cystic kidneys.  That is only the first symptom.  It also causes high blood pressure, cardiac issues, liver issues, etc. There was so much to learn about this genetic disease, besides the fact that the kidneys didn’t work.  Naomi’s case was so profound that her kidneys had no function.  She would never make urine.  She had hyper-flexibility because she had no fluid in the womb, and she was swollen everywhere for the same reason.  

They let me hold her for only a minute or so, because she had a bipap machine on to help her breathe.  The nurse had to assist, and I felt violated.  That was my daughter and I wanted to really hold her close and tight.  I needed it, and I felt she needed it, but it wasn’t allowed.  So, I stared at her through her clear box.  A few hours had passed and she was alive, and I thanked her guardian angel and God in those hours that I was allowed to gaze at her.  It seemed as though time had stopped.  People walked by, and I wasn’t phased by the intrusion of that sacred space.  Doctors and nurses would come and go and my gaze never waivered.  All the grandparents visited, and asked their questions, but I don’t think I answered any.  My eyes were on her eyes.  I traced the top of her fuzzy head down to her very tiny feet and toes.  I memorized every birth mark and observed every motion she made.  I began to tell what she needed and when she was uncomfortable.  I knew she wanted closeness, and I begged God to cradle her and for her to not know the difference between his arms and mine.  She began to condition me, as a baby does with their mother.  I was sad, yes.  I was terribly sad, because I thought she was suffering.  Looking back, it was my suffering that was moving me.   

They made me go back to my room because I needed to pump, pee, and rest.  Luke pushed me to my new bed, even though I fought tooth and nail to make it back down to her baby cubby.  I couldn’t go by myself though and my new nurse insisted I pee.  I was annoyed.  The strong and unwavering father of my child of course fell asleep on the couch, and I was sentenced to the bathroom.  I drank and drank in the hopes that would get me back to the room faster.  The night became the early morning and it still hadn’t happened.  The nurse put me in the shower room with running water, and still nothing.  I was in pain by then, but nothing was working.  Eventually she had to put a catheter in and the pain was unfathomable.  I screamed and writhed in pain as I threw a pillow at Luke trying to wake him to comfort me.  It was despicable really, but I had so much emotional baggage I was desperate for solace.  How could I be upset about peeing, when Naomi never would? 

I finally slept.  Luke went down to see Naomi in the morning as I waited for my mandatory breakfast.  Dang type one diabetes.  He rushed back.  I had been dreading this moment since before she was born.  She had to be sent to the Children’s hospital, and I had to stay for a few days post surgery. I knew they were going to take her, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to go with her.  They assured me she wasn’t going to go until the afternoon, but the ambulance crew had already arrived.  What?  I had barely any time with her?! They lied to me.  Remember the nephrologist said she would live a few hours, maybe days.  I did that math.  I knew she would probably die across the street as I lay by myself in the “adult hospital.”  I demanded Luke take me to her.  Maybe I could get one more minute with her sort of in my arms.  She was already strapped in her transport bed when we arrived.

The cubicle was full of people.  Everyone was getting updates and everyone was busy.  The focus was on Naomi and getting her to the higher level NICU as quickly as possible.  I sat in my wheelchair helpless once again.  I rushingly and awkwardly said “goodbye.”  It wasn’t intimate at all.  It was not how I imagined telling her I loved her for the last time.  I felt stripped of my motherly worth.  I was robbed of that special moment...that last moment. I tried to talk the staff out of taking her so soon, but it wasn’t about me. None of it was about me, and I understood that.    

Luke left with her.  I didn’t give him a choice.  She would die with one of us.  

#c-section arpkd naomistrong faith

[harringrovetrashrat]

heyyy uhhhh can i get a #43 with a side of #3 and umm, can I add on some insercurites for free? how much? all my love and appreciation?? dang I've already maxed out my card but you can have my heart...

Anon, anon, anon.... I’ll do it for free.  The love an appreciation is very welcome tho (i’m a leo bastard) ;)

Why this prompt gave me trouble, I HAVE NO IDEA.  It took FOREVER to get myself going, I even had to do a fucking twitter poll, and I’m still unhappy with how this came out.  So, on the house, I’m gonna rewrite this again later.  Because there’s not enough of anything in here.

That all being said, I don’t fully hate this and I wanted to get something out for ya.  And let you know that more was coming after this.  (Fic under the cut)

--

Steve watched as Billy leaned against the lifeguard tower, finger twirling one of Casey’s curls, making her blush.  He sunk lower on the plastic lounger, glaring through his sunglasses.  It wasn’t like he thought Billy was really into her.  But still.  It made his heart clench and his stomach all queasy whenever Billy flirted with someone else.

Steve knew he wasn’t bad to look at.  That he was pretty cute.  But after Nancy and the tunnels and everything, he’d kind of lost his appeal or something.  Girls didn’t flirt with him, like, ever.  And it wasn’t like he was looking for their attention, but it would have been nice.  To get confirmation you weren’t fucking hideous.  Because Billy was gorgeous.

Like made Steve sweat the first time he saw him gorgeous.  Like, model gorgeous.  Like a fucking sun god, all tan skin, freckles, and muscles that Steve just wanted to run his tongue along, to bite and fawn over--

Steve groaned quietly and pushed his sunglasses up, pressing the meat of his palms to his eyes.

They’d talked about it before.  Talked about how Steve didn’t need to worry, but sometimes he didn’t know why Billy was doing, well, whatever it was they were doing, besides the obvious us both knowing about monsters thing.  Nothing like shared trauma.  Maybe it was because he was the only other guy in town who was okay having another guy’s dick in his mouth.  Steve sighed and grabbed his stuff, catching Dustin’s attention.

“What?” He asked, coming over.

“You guys want pizza and ice cream?  On me.” Dustin perked up and grinned.

“Hell yeah!  Can’t see why anyone would say no to that!” He went back over the The Party, gesturing animatedly.  They cheered and Steve ignored the way Billy’s eyes darted over and didn’t leave him until he was walking out the gate.

--

Steve fidgeted with the remote, hating himself and hating Billy and hating Hawkins.  He hadn’t heard anything from Billy, even though they supposedly had plans tonight.  Well, they had their usual It’s Friday let’s get wasted and fool around thing.  At least, he thought they did.  What a fucking chump.  He scrubbed at his eyes, ignoring the pit in his stomach when the clock hit 1 in the morning.  Ignoring that Billy should have been here 3 hours ago.

Steve had really thought things were getting better.  Billy had been staying the night, been staying for breakfast, and it had made Steve yearn for something domestic.  He wanted to spend every morning dressed in his underwear and one of Billy’s shirts, making them omelettes.  Give him his coffee, just the way he likes it.  Have Billy pull him down for a kiss that’s barely a kiss because they’re both smiling.

And then he ignored Steve for 3 days.

So Steve had gone to the pool.

And there was Billy.  And Casey.

Billy had ignored him the whole time.

And now here he was, somehow still under the impression that Billy might have come over for their usual Friday hangout.  That maybe Steve could pretend for a little bit that he mattered to someone.  That one fucking person wanted to spend time with him.  Wanted to be around him just because.

He wiped at the tears welling in his eyes and stood up, accepting that it was time to call it a night.  As he passed by the front door to head up the stairs, someone began pounding on it.  Steve let out a bitten off shriek and clutched at his chest.  Whoever was there wasn’t bothered by the noise, just kept pounding away.  Steve licked his lips and grabbed the bat he kept by the door.  Regular.  No nails.  He got it ready and swung the door open, ready for --

Billy Hargrove.  Drunk as a fucking skunk.  Falling forward with the momentum of his fist, eyes wide.  Steve caught him and stumbled back, dropping the bat.

“What the fuck?” Steve said, his voice flat.  Billy gripped the front of Steve’s shirt and pulled himself up, eyes bloodshot.

“Steve,” Billy slurred.  “You’re awake.” His eyes were wide, like he was shocked, and he didn’t pull away, keeping his face close to Steve’s.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, wrinkling his nose because Billy’s breath reeked.  “Waited up for you.” Billy rested his forehead in the crook of Steve’s neck and brought his arms up, pulling Steve closer.  Steve couldn’t help himself, he was so fucking starved for attention, and he let Billy cling to him, wrapping his own arms around his waist.

“Thought you would,” he hiccuped, “Wouldn’t wanna see me.” Steve sighed.

“Can’t say I’m thrilled you showed up 3 hours late and drunk,” he said, because he shouldn’t be happy Billy came like this, but he is.  He’s happy he came at all.  And how fucking sad was that.

“I didn’t wan-wanna intrude on your time with the nerds.”

“Too busy with Casey?” Steve snapped.  He felt Billy stiffen against him.  Watched him pull back and level Steve with an annoyed look.

“Fuck does that mean?” He grumbled.  Steve rolled his eyes, suddenly so fucking angry because Billy didn’t even notice.  Didn’t even fucking care.

“It means,” Steve bit out, “That you can just tell me if you wanna fuck other people.” Billy looked at him like he was making no sense, which just irked Steve more.  “You don’t have to, to let me down gently, okay?  I can take it.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“Oh my god!” Steve finally pulled all the way away from Billy, wrapping his arms around himself and hunching over, trying to make himself smaller.  “Just leave.” He didn’t look at Billy, scared that he might cry, over Billy fucking Hargrove.

“Is this,” Billy began, speaking slowly, sounding a bit more sober now, “About the flirting?”

“Is this about--” Steve scoffed and shook his head.

“Seriously?  You’re worked up over harmless flirting?” Billy sounded annoyed and Steve felt like fucking shit.  Felt tears welling up because he was an idiot.

“Fuck you,” he said, voice watery.  “I fucking--  I’m worked up,” he spit out, “Because you ignored me for 3 days.  Because when I wanted to talk to you, you fucking, fucking laughed in my face.” He scrubbed at his eyes, wishing he wasn’t crying over Billy goddamn Hargrove.  “Because you apparently can’t even bear to be my friend in public.” He laughed, the noise twisting into an aborted sob at the end.  “I’m worked up because I was actually convinced for like, a little while, that you cared about me.  That this wasn’t some fucking distraction from the bullshit.  That it maybe meant something.” Steve still hadn’t looked at Billy, who had been quiet the whole time.  “You know, sometimes, I fucking hate you.” Steve was surprised at the sharp inhale of breath and looked up, shocked to see Billy quickly rubbing at his eyes.  He glared at the floor and licked his lips.

“Please--” he stammered.  “Please don’t say that.” Steve was thrown for a loop.  Billy using please?  Billy looking upset?  Billy being anything other than his usual I’m too cool to care about anyone or anything self?

“What,” Steve said, monotone.

“I--” Billy swallowed and shut his eyes tightly, like he also couldn’t look at Steve while he was vulnerable.  Like he was vulnerable.  “I-- I got scared.” He swallowed, eyes still closed.  “When you-- You’re just so--”

“What,” Steve repeated.

“In the morning,” Billy said.  “When you smile at me, and it’s all soft and just for me, I just--” He licked his lips and wiped over his mouth harshly.  “I want that.  I got scared because I want it so much and you just…” He stopped, words trailing off like he’d already pried out what he could.  Steve couldn’t do anything more than stare, mouth open in a small ‘o.’

“So why--”

“I wanted you to hate me,” Billy said.  “I wanted you to hate me because then I wouldn’t ruin it.  I wouldn’t ruin you and you could go back to your life before I inevitably fucked this up.  But,” he let out a shuddery breath, “But hearing you say it… I don’t-- I don’t want you to--”

“I don’t,” Steve replied, probably too fast.  “I don’t hate you.”

“You should,” Billy whispered.  Steve didn’t know how to respond, so instead, he took Billy’s hand and pulled him into the kitchen.  Made him an instant coffee and got him a glass of water.  They sat in silence, neither looking at the other, until Steve cleared his throat.

“So, you really aren’t into Casey?” Billy let out a shocked laugh and shook his head.

“How is that what you’re focused on,” he muttered.  “No, I’m not.  My dad knows when I’m not, well, fucking around.  Knows that means I found someone.”

“What the fuck?” Billy shrugged.

“I’m good at pretending, Harrington, but I’m not like you.  I don’t like girls.  Sex is nice enough but they don’t really do it for me.  We left San Diego because my dad figured that out.  And he always asks who I’m meeting when I go on dates, always makes sure he knows where I am--”

“Seriously, what the fuck!” Billy shrugged again, staring into his mug.

“I don’t flirt because I want to,” he said, voice soft.  “I do it because I have to.  Because he doesn’t ask me where I go every Friday anymore.” Steve felt like shit again, but now for a whole new reason.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Billy said.  “I should have told you.  Don’t know that I ever would have if you didn’t push me.  If I wasn’t still fucking drunk right now.” He finally, finally looked at Steve, and Steve was surprised at just how tired he looked.  “You told me how it made you feel, and I couldn’t even--” He looked away again.

“It did kind of feel like shit,” Steve said.  He backtracked when Billy hunched in on himself.  “But it was also because I was a little jealous.  That like, you even could flirt.” Billy raised a brow, confused.  “It’s stupid,” Steve said, blushing, “But you’re like, like a fucking adonis?  Shut up,” he said when Billy snickered.  “And like, I know I’m not like, ugly or anything, but I’m not anything special, so I just--”

“Not anything special?” Billy asked, looking confused again.  “Are you kidding me?” Steve flushed and looked away, frowning.

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Steve muttered.

“No, no,” Billy said, grabbing Steve’s hand.  “You--” Billy looked at a loss for words.  For once.  “The minute I saw you I couldn’t-- I couldn’t think about anything except the fact that I wanted to suck your dick.” Steve rolled his eyes but smiled a little.  “Seriously, Harrington.  The minute I finally saw that dick?” Billy shook his head.  “A goner.  Wanted to fucking choke on it.”

“Billy,” Steve sighed, smiling a little more.  “You don’t--”

“I’m not going to stop until you remember that you’re hot as fuck, okay?” Billy looked away, a blush creeping across his face and down his neck.  “I get lost in your eyes sometimes,” he mumbled.  “They’re so open and kind and deep.” He looked back at Steve and brought his hand up to Steve’s face.  “When you’re asleep I see how many moles I can count.” He cupped his jaw, thumb rubbing a gentle circle on Steve’s cheek.  “It hurts to look at you sometimes,” Billy whispered, eyes glazed over.  “Especially when you smile at me.  When you’re shining so bright and I just--” He leaned forward, pulling Steve into a gentle, but thorough, kiss.  Steve kissed back, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“Billy,” he choked out, lips still pressed against Billy’s.

“You’re so good, Steve,” Billy said in a rush.  “Please, please forgive me for making you feel like you weren’t-- You know that I--” Steve cut him off with a kiss, letting Billy’s tongue swirl around his before pulling back, breath short.

“We should maybe talk about things a little more,” he mumbled, smile wet from tears, but still light.  Billy smiled a little.

“Maybe.”

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #angst with a hopeful ending #anon #prompt fic #god this is NOT my greatest work #i gotta rewrite it #i hope this tides u over until something better comes anon

[ltleflrt]

Ltleflrt’s Writing Year in Review

Once again I felt like I could do more this year, so this is the theme for the decade.  But I got SO MUCH DONE too!  And more than I did last year, so I’m happy to see an improvement :D

Total 2019 Word Count: 215,491 Total 2019 Kudos: 7,581 Total 2019 Hits: 63,620

My 2019 Fics:

Dreaming in Digital: 173,818 words (44,142 from 2019)

When Dean finds a deactivated sex bot, he knows it’s his lucky day.

Set in a Cyberpunk world where global warming and climate change has driven most of the human population into domed cities, Sam and Dean hunt rogue tech and science experiments gone wrong in the shadows, protecting the lives of those the government doesn't care about anymore. On a trip to the dump to scavenge for valuables Dean finds Castiel, an Angel Industries sex bot, which is worth his weight in credits. But when he turns the sex bot on, he learns that Castiel is sentient.

Artificial Intelligence is illegal, and for good reason, but Cas doesn't put off dangerous vibes. That doesn't stop Sam from researching his creators while Dean's off making friends with the android. If there's someone out there creating a robot army unconstrained by the 3 rules of robotics, Sam's going to make sure the operation is shut down for good.

Castiel just wants to exist. He wants to read and work in the Winchester's greenhouse and have movie nights with Dean. But he also wants to understand. Himself. His unexpected reaction to Dean. What it it means to feel.

I started this fic in February 2018, and finished it in April 2019.  As of this post, it is the longest thing I’ve ever written.  And definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever written.  You know that saying about blood, sweat, and tears?  So true. (the blood was from a cat scratch when Kitty Cas tried to jump in my lap while I was writing and I got clawed, but it counts!)  I am proud of the results, even if I got tired of it and cut out a bunch of stuff I wanted to do.  2020 goal is some timestamps!

Where The Heart Lives: 12,876 words

Home is where the heart is, but it's nice to have a cozy little love nest too.

A collection of related short ficlets without a plot. Just small glimpses of Dean and Castiel being happy and in love.

This was a 30 day art challenge called Cottagetober, that I turned into writing prompts and added a 31st day since it was an October thing and I wanted a ficlet for every day.  Writing these fluffy snippets every day made me very happy, and I think I might do something similar in 2020 if I can find a list that sparks joy.

Reunited: 2,681 words

Castiel has changed a lot in the 10 years since he was a shy bookworm in High School. But it seems like few of his previous schoolmates have grown up much, if the revival of the rumor mill as soon as he walked in is any indication.

Dean Winchester certainly grew up, though. And he seems far more interested in Castiel than the rumors.

Written as a prompt from  @melilovesmakeup-blog, this little fic spawned much joy, and inspired a prequel from @bendingsignpost, which is honestly so dang flattering.  I love this little universe, and I’m heckin’ glad I randomly decided to take prompts.

Cloud Nine: 2,254 words

“Hey, angel.” Dean’s voice is warm with love and pride, and it makes Castiel squirm in his bindings. “You think you can take more?”

I love finding new ways to write non-traditional a/b/o!  One day I was driving around, and thought you know what I need?  Dom!Omega!Dean and sub!Alpha!Cas.  Not a lot of it out there yet, so had to write it myself.  And I really want to revisit this and write a prequel.  I Have Ideas!

The Git (you) Up: 1,323 words

Dean's been crushing on his new neighbor across the street from afar. When he gets an invitation to a neighborhood BBQ, he's finally going to meet the hottie. Now if only he can get the courage to talk to him.

I saw a ridiculously cute video on the internet and I was inspired!

Burning For You: 1,998 words 

Due to their busy schedules, Sam and Eileen hire a wedding planner. As Best Man, Dean steps in to help as much as he can. The fact that Castiel is gorgeous and immune to the dangers of Dean's touch is a bonus.

Another prompt!  I do prompts like never, but I’m so glad I did and got this one.  I had an immediate, and visceral need to write this fic as soon as I saw the ask, so thank you very much @alessariel!  This prompt was for both of us! :D

To Build A Bower: 633 words

Dean decorates his home to attract a mate.

Look.  Look.  I just really fuckin’ love bower birds okay?  Okay.  Thanks for the prompt @zarauthforsaken!

Special Delivery:  2,012 words

Castiel accidentally gets a package meant for his sexy neighbor.

Another prompt! From @queenandthree <3 

Fun story about this fic, the premise was originally going to be used in Satin and Sawdust, but got discarded.  I’m thrilled I found a reason to use it in a short story!

Work Life Balance: 2,227 words

As leader of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, one of Dean's duties is to balance Order with Entropy, and enforce the will of the Fates. When Castiel's nature as the demigod of War urges him to destroy more than he should, he seeks out Dean's council.

A prompt from @kazshero!  I have had Four Horsemen headcanons for years, and could never come up with a story for it until I got this prompt.  Super grateful for it!  Death!Dean is my jam :D

The Menagerie: 1,452 words

Baby the Pegasus is giving birth to her first foal. Dean and Castiel are there to help her through it.

A prompt fill for @nickelkeep!  An excuse to turn Baby into a pegasus!  FLUFF! <3

A Trip To The Beach: 734 words

Camp Counselors Dean and Cas take the kids on a field trip to the beach.

Yes, this was definitely based on a conversation I had with @jupiterjames.  When I got the prompt from my bestie, I *had* to make it about us lol

Quoth the... Wait that's not a Raven: 930 words

Dean, Castiel, and Sam are paranormal investigators. Tonight's haunted spot is a Pet Store.

A prompt from @purgatory-jar!  And to be honest, I may revisit this idea with something longer someday.  Writing TFW as paranormal investigators is too much fun to pass up :D

Hunter's Caress: 142,229 words (WIP)

Castiel Jameson won't rest until the outlaw who murdered his brother faces justice, and Dean Winchester is the only man alive who can help him track the villain down. Some say Winchester is a cold-blooded killer himself; others say he'd been wronged his whole life. All Castiel knows is that the desire glinting in Dean's green eyes is even more dangerous than he is. Castiel fights to keep his mind on business, but during the long nights on the trail with the dangerously handsome hunter he finds himself dreaming of yielding to Dean's illicit kisses and losing himself in lawless passion.

Dean Winchester is about to hang when Castiel saves his neck with his crazy plan. But dying might be better than spending day and night playing nursemaid to such an infuriating city slicker. He appreciates the stubborn detective's desire for justice, but he'd appreciate Cas a lot more if he'd stop being a lawman long enough to just be a man. He certainly has all the right equipment. Dean aches to run his fingers through Castiel's dark hair, yearns to know how Castiel's golden skin will feel against him. And before the coming of the next dawn, Dean vows to teach him the pleasures and sweet rewards of a Hunter's Caress.

I’ve had this idea since the first year I started writing Destiel fic, and it’s been sitting in my WIP folder since 2014.  I don’t want to be done writing Destiel, but I’ve been struggling with my writing for about 2 years now, and I’m afraid it will only get worse when the show ends and the fandom starts to slow down without new content.  I figure if I don’t do this story now, it’ll never get done.  And that’s unacceptable, because this has been on my mind for far too long to let it never see the light of day.  Of all of my stories, this one is the most For Myself thing I’ve ever written.  And based on the way it’s going, it’s probably going to overtake Dreaming in Digital as my longest fic by the time it’s done lol

#oops i ficced #destiel #year in review #2019 year in review #long post for ts

[cloudbattrolls]

The Woods, Interrupted

Running from Rhyssa hadn’t lasted long.

Rather, it had apparently lasted a week or so after fleeing from her the first time, during which they’d apparently they’d suppressed the memory of the encounter. Unhelpful in practice, though at least for once their brain had tried to do them a favor. 

Sadly it had all come rushing back in a jolt of pure adrenaline as they had attempted to book it from her swarms of wasps, tearing through branches and becoming riddled with splinters for their trouble.

They looked up at her now from a pile of leaves they’d collapsed on, too weary to run more. God, they could drain a whole person dry right now and have room for several pints of another. Their head rested on their knees as they huddled over.

“What do you want.” the worm drinker groaned.

She looked at them (or did she look? She still wore that bandanna over her eyes, and a hat on her head that would’ve shaded her view, yet clearly she could see somehow) and knelt down next to them.

Every part of them ached, worms protesting from hunger and disappointment that the woman next to them was anything but prey. Their clothes were damp and dirty from nights in the forest and they wanted to go home.

Home. There was no home, not anymore.

Their cavern would never be theirs again, and they wandered for a reason: after leaving OLSC, staying in one place too long was just asking for the empire to snatch them up a third time.

“I just wanna talk, honey. Ain’t you even a little curious about what we got in common?”

Tuuya looked away from her, ears down and twitching in irritation.

“No. Bugger off. Just because we’re both made of bloodsucking parasites doesn’t mean we’re going to be friends.”

Or siblings.

The freshly remembered word cut through their head like a rusty knife, slow pain mixed with disbelief. It couldn’t be true; they’d never seen Rhyssa before in their life. Their worm was artificial anyway, a product of their ancestor’s science; if her wasps were (god forbid) natural, there was no way they could be related.

She clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“Well dang, you treat everyone who wants to get to know you this way? Doesn’t seem like much of a way to make pals.”

“I don’t associate with other undead.” They snapped, plucking off a leaf stuck one of their horn tines and crunching it up in their hands with rather more malice than it deserved. “You make for terrible company.”

They thought of Tiijah and brushed the thought aside. They hadn’t spoken with her in ages, nor Shiver, or Matcha. They’d probably never see that ridiculous mediculler boy again either. None of them counted.

Besides, did the fool think they’d somehow forgotten about her town? Perhaps she’d been doing it so long she’d forgotten it was messed up to make people your willing blood bags, but Tuuya was all too aware. Their dozen cavern trolls had been bad enough, let alone a couple hundred people who were clearly only the latest of what had probably been thousands over the sweeps.

Rhyssa laughed, and if they’d had any more energy than it took to keep their face out of the dirt, they’d have hurled another smoke bomb at her out of spite.

“Well, who in tarnation do you shoot the shit with? Living trolls are fine for a wheeze and all, but you turn around and they’re dead or ascended or too old to have fun with anymore.”

The worm monster scowled as they looked back at her, hoping they were staring directly into her eyes. Arrogant prick.

“Here’s a thought: why don’t you leave me alone, and I leave you alone, and we both forget this ever happened.”

Hardly. But figuring out how to kill her and deal with her brainwashed horde would take time.

She sat properly and bit her lip as if considering it, then shook her head.

“Back in my town, did you think you were protecting my folks? You thought I was gonna drain them dry?”

They snorted.

“I didn’t know what you were going to do, I just knew I didn’t like it. We have nothing more to discuss, because if you haven’t noticed, I hate you. Have a terrible night.”

“Why?” She said, blunt and frustrated, hands spread out in what was probably meant to be a placating gesture. “Look - sorry for ripping at ya before, I didn’t realize you were my kind. Thought you were one of the little wriggler drinkers, trying to swipe blood. I woulda never done that if I’d known.”

They closed their eyes, giving a hard sigh in irritation.

“Thanks. That changes nothing. Goodbye.”

It was difficult to tell what she was thinking, but the woman shifted, hands crunching leaves in her fists as the weak moonlight filtering through the treetops.

“You don’t even care about who you are?”

“I find my life much improved by behaving like I’m a person instead of a disgusting hell swarm. Weird take, I know, but that’s why you and I have zero common ground and never will.”

She parted her lips and wasps flew out. The worm monster flinched back, and Rhyssa smiled and put a finger to her mouth.

The insects flew around before settling on Tuuya’s arms, faceted eyes gleaming as their antennae twitched. The younger drinker went rigid, expecting pain.

“Well? If you’re going to attack me, get it over with.” They half-snapped, a quaver to their voice as their bright jade pupils flitted back and forth between the white creatures and Rhyssa’s face.

“Hush up a moment and listen.”

They felt the buzz more than heard it. It spread through them like a wave of electricity, not painful, instead oddly invigorating. Every part of their body vibrated from the wasps’ noise, their worms yearning to come out, to...communicate, somehow.

Instinctually, they cut the back of their hand and released the pale invertebrates. The creatures wriggled up their arms, their shoulders - and the wasps didn’t hurt them.

They fluttered around the worms delicately, lightly brushing them with their wings...almost as if with affection. The worms docilely waved in the air as if to track the insects’ progress, even though they had no eyes.

Tuuya looked up to see Rhyssa grinning even wider.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” 

Her voice was all innocence.

“Smiling. It’s annoying.”

“Nah, you ain’t gonna ruin this. I knew it. I knew you were the real worm. I always hoped you’d survived somehow...I was right.”

The jade rolled their eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about and care less. Their reactions don’t speak for me. I have a troll thinkpan, even if the rest of me is them.”

Yet despite their dry words, the drinker felt a sense of recognition. It was nothing they could explain. Alternian Standard didn’t have the language for it, for a sensation that went beyond the five senses, a flickering of belonging that was alien and yet terrifyingly familiar.

Why? Why did they feel that way?

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense, sweetie. They are you. Can’t you feel it? Even if you don’t remember - ”

They snapped to attention, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t remember what?”

Rhyssa waved a hand in a gesture that tried to be casually dismissive but failed as her wrist trembled a little.

“Nothin’, sugar cube, don’t fret about that right now.”

They retracted their worms back into their body and folded their arms.

“Does this have anything to do with whatever you called me when you first saw me? That was a name, wasn’t it?”

Hlayos, or so it had sounded like. It had been kind of hard to hear precisely when they’d been trying to put themself back together from those godawful stingers.

The woman sighed and blew air out of her dead lungs, running her fingers through the grass.

“Look, I don’t wanna go into all that just yet, okay? I still need to figure out what I’m gonna do. This is great, but...”

The wavy-haired undead leaned back as Rhyssa trailed off wistfully, apparently staring into space. Their mouth pulled into displeased slash and their ears angled likewise.

“Can I go, then? Without you sending your horrid beasts after me?”

She sniffed in a way that indicated Tuuya had been rude, which honestly was the funniest thing they’d heard all night.

“Whatcha in such a hurry for anyway?”

“Oh, I’ve got a meeting with the empress and her personal tea server.” They remarked, snide. “If I’m late I have to dance the macarena and wear mittens on my horns.”

Claire’s forest wasn’t too far from this one, now that they remembered where they were. Selfish as it was, all they wanted right now was a hot cup of her own hivemade tea and to hear Irisma and Moelle play, or Talula shriek in delight as she stacked blocks. Maybe they could listen to Elziah and Aduya practice their music, ask Wueyah to show them her art, or - not that they’d ever admit it - toss Herbie some snacks.

Then they realize what they want even more: to sit with Uunive lying in their lap like she did when she was small and her horns hadn’t reached their full growth, when she still wanted to play Sailor Moon and they ran dungeons and dragons every week.

God, they missed her. How was she doing with her cavern duties? Did she have a matesprit now, that girl she talked about before? Had she made more bread? Above all, was she still safe?

Useless thoughts, every one of them, highly ridiculous and inappropriate. They hadn’t been made to be sentimental.

They had been meant to be like Rhyssa.

“Now why don’t you wanna tell me?” The wasp monster mused.

They barked a laugh, managing to push themself up after a long enough rest.

“Could it be because I don’t trust you? I don’t know how many barbs I have to throw before one sinks in, but here’s a flat fact: I would rather be literally anywhere else right now.”

Bizarrely, her mouth turned down in an injured pout.

“What’s so great about where you’re goin’ anyway? You don’t seem the party type, so it ain’t that. Pfft, no, wait - you got a living quad, I bet. Shoot, you would, you seem so young and goofy.”

They got up, ignoring her, ignoring their hunger, and pointedly walked away silently (well, more like with periodic sullen leaf crunches, but they did their best).

“Is it that little cluster in the woods over yonder?”

Tuuya kept walking despite the pit of dread that had opened up inside them. If they didn’t react, she had nothing to go on. She could just be taking shots in the dark.

“Is it that maroon who walks round with that dragon-lookin’ thing?”

Keep walking. Keep walking. Don’t show her anything.

“Gosh, guess I could pay them a visit myself. See what makes their company so preferable. Course, question is, should I let them live at the end? Maroons die in a blink anyway. I’d be doin’ you a favor.”

The buzzing sounded again and they couldn’t help it, they whirled around to see Rhyssa’s swarm buzzing around her.

The wasps weren’t fluttering gently now.

Their throat went dry, drier even than it was, and their eyes widened in fear they can’t conceal.

“No.” They whispered. Even with Claire’s powers to reckon with, the wasps were fast and deadly enough to seriously injure or kill the others before she could help them.

“Please, no. Don’t do it.”

“Why?” She said again, this time almost indifferent in her tone, her relaxed shoulders, hands on her hips. She was annoyed at most; there was no hate in her voice, not even any arrogance. These trolls were just an obstacle to her. The receiving end of her petty spite.

Spite they were helpless to stop.

“Because...they don’t deserve to die. They’re decent people, decent as anyone can be on Alternia. They don’t deserve to die just for knowing me.” Tuuya croaked, hands shaking.

“Aaaaaah.” Rhyssa breathed, satisfaction and ire in her voice. “Thought I smelled you in those trees. That’s what took me so long, thinking you were there instead of here...now I get it. But that’s an awful weak argument, sugar. Put some fire into it! Same stuff you showed me when you were defending my folk, and you barely knew them. What makes these little snacks so important that they’re worth keeping alive, hm?”

The tailor’s mouth opened and closed, then they found their voice.

“They - they are very talented, artistically, and I assist them with clothing and such, and - ”

The situation would’ve been ridiculous if it hadn’t been so terrifying. Firebird had been a menace, dangerously delusional, nothing but a misguided fool in the end, but she had never threatened their...their circle.

The wasps rose higher in the air, primed to attack.

No. They all had so much to live for. They deserved so much better -

They began to fly.

The worm monster flung an arm out as they yelled, voice weak and cracking as they trembled in fear, ears flat against their head.

“Don’t hurt them, because I...I love them.”

Tuuya slapped a hand to their mouth. Idiot. What a stupid thing to say. As if they had the right. 

If Claire ever found out...never mind, absolutely no energy to worry about that right now, save it for later.

The wasps spiraled down and back into Rhyssa, who chuckled gently as the other drinker went weak in relief.

“Aw, that’s cute. Dumb, but cute. Well...if ya really do like ‘em so much, I guess I wanna meet ‘em!”

They stared at her blankly.

“What.”

“I mean I could drink ‘em instead, but your call - ”

“Fine! Fine, I’ll take you.”

Not as if they had a choice. 

But damned if they’d ever let her touch them. Damned if Claire and her family would ever suffer because of Tuuya and the trouble they’d accidentally brought with them.

As Rhyssa walked ahead, their bright yellow and jade eyes narrowed.

They’d kill her somehow. For the sake of their circle. For the sake of her captive town. 

And most of all, because she was bloody irritating. 

END

#cloud writes #the children of ozyrel #rhyssa #etuuya vannyn

[taste-in-music]

My Other Favorite Songs of 2019

This is a list for all of my favorite songs of the year that aren’t on my album of EP of the year list. (Read my top albums and EPs of the year lists if you want some context.) However, songs from albums that were on my rapid-fire review list are fare game. That’s enough preamble, this list is in no particular order (except, of course, for the final song.) 

Listen along to the complete mix of all these songs HERE. Let’s talk about some great music!

affection by BETWEEN FRIENDS: This was my favorite song off of BETWEEN FRIENDS’s debut EP from this year, we just need some time together. This is the perfect swoony, dreamy pop song that was my relaxing Summer jam. I love the way the melody on the hook is ushered in with a churning bass in the pre-chorus and washes over me with each listen. 

trevi fountain by Leo Kalyan: Leo Kalyan is one of my favorite, (and most underrated) dream pop artists, always able to capture a sense of otherwordly bliss in his music. If there was one word I had to use to describe this song, it would be romantic. This song feels purely, dizzyingly, head-over-heels in love, and it was on repeat for me all throughout Valentine’s Day. 

Numb by Baker Grace: One of the most instantly catchy songs of the year. Chopped-up vocals don’t always work for me, but here they combine with the punchy production in such a way that they contribute to the “over-it” attitude of the song. God, what a bop. 

Clumsy Love by Thelma Plum: This melancholy love song traipsed its way right into my heart as soon as I heard it. The light tambourines, bubbly guitar, and upbeat melody give this song a sunny feel that contrasts nicely with Thelma Plum’s heartbroken lyrics and delivery. 

Love You For A Long Time by Maggie Rogers: If more people used that reverb-layered-vocal-chorus-of-angels effect in their music, then I would like that very much, because so far Miss Maggie Rogers has used it twice, (on this and “Retrograde”) and it has made those songs some of my favorites from her. This sweet, upbeat track was a surprising single after the album, and I swear I listened to it on a loop for a week straight. I’m going to love this song for a long time. 

Karma by MARINA: This is probably my favorite song off of Love + Fear, or at least it was the song that I returned to the most as the year went on. The icy backing vocals and Spanish guitars give the track a cool and refreshing feel. MARINA’s performance is, as always, gorgeous, her rich vocals skating over the frosty soundscape with grace and a hint of sarcasm. 

Gone by Charli XCX ft. Christine and the Queens: One word: BOP. I seriously considered ending the write-up there, but I’ll also mention that Charli and Chris have amazing vocal chemistry, the lyrics about being socially awkward are seriously relatable, and the bass is sick. Also, Chris’s lines in French? Iconic. Even the instrumental breakdown at the end has grown on me. 

Death By A Thousand Cuts by Taylor Swift: This ended up being my favorite song off Lover, (with “Cruel Summer” taking a close second.) I am obsessed with the sparkly production, (my boy Jack Antanoff, once again, went antanOFF,) especially those flitting, echo-y vocal samples that start the track out and the glittering keys that dance under the verses. Along with that, Swift’s writing is sharp, recounting a breakup in a specific yet relatable way.  

make up by Ariana Grande: This was the first non-single off of thank u, next that I really loved. I think it’s due to the fun, cheeky energy. The beat perfectly balances tense plucked bass, chimes, and vintage-leaning, pitch-shifted backing vocals, I especially love those “hey-hey-hey”s that pepper the chorus. This is a great song to get ready for a party to.

Don’t Say by Robinson: I didn’t realize how much I missed Robinson until she came back with this immaculate synthpop banger of a breakup song. The upbeat production on this make it fun and danceable, but Robinson’s delivery makes it a fireball of emotion as well. She’s supposedly dropping a new EP soon, and I can’t wait. 

Live Forever by Nasty Cherry: Nasty Cherry were one of the most fascinating bands to emerge this year, backed by Charli XCX and a Netflix docuseries. Now I don’t care about all that so long as the music was good, and you know what? They’ve got some damn good songs, and I’m a sucker for all-women bands. This song edged out the band’s debut single “Win” for the list. The harmonies on the chorus, bright guitars, and all-around nostalgic feel of this song made this an instant pop-rock jam in my book. 

Blinding Lights by The Weeknd: I’ve always found The Weeknd’s music to be most engaging when it sounds like he’s having fun, like in “Can’t Feel My Face.” This song is an absolute jam, with an instrumental that sounds like it was ripped right from the 80′s, (but it literally was though, it samples “Take on Me” by a-ha,”) and one of the most instantly likable choruses I’ve heard in a while. 

Playing Games by Anna Of The North: This is just a total jam that I couldn’t stop playing at the end of the Summer. I love the light guitars on the verses and the smooth, relaxed-yet-upbeat feel. It’s probably my favorite song off of Dream Girl. 

Sanctuary by Joji: Joji’s music has always been hit or miss for me, but this song is definitely a hit. The dreamy, spacey atmosphere built up by the spacious synths and Joji’s laid-back delivery instantly puts me at ease. 

Soaked by BENEE: The song that introduced me to BENEE also ended up being my favorite from her. The jaunty, casual feel of this song make it the ultimate laid-back indie pop tune. Both of BENEE’s EPs from this year, FIRE ON MARZZ and STELLA & STEVE are quirky listens that are worth your time. 

The King by Conan Gray: 2019 saw Conan Gray taking his lyricism into a more heartbroken and sarcastic direction, which was an interested evolution to witness. Out of all the singles that Conan Gray dropped throughout the course of the year, this one is my favorite. I love the way the chorus rushes through me with every new listen, Conan’s delivery is so dang breezy. 

Twist by Dizzy: I swear Dizzy have nostalgic melancholy perfected into a science. This song has one of my favorite choruses of the year, featuring lyrics that are heart-twisting (ha, but no really,) and a gentle yet earnest delivery from frontwoman Katie Munshaw. Whenever I hear this I feel sad in a reflective, smiling-with-a-single-tear-rolling-down-my-cheek kind of way.

Joyride by SONIA: I came across this on a Spotify New Music Friday one week and clicked on it just for kicks and it has been one of my favorite finds of the year. SONIA has one of those smoky, sensual voices that I can’t help but love, and her performance paired with the yearning lyrics make for a song that is sorrowful yet romantic at the same time. 

You Sexy Thing by Zella Day: And the award for comeback of the year goes to Zella Day, whose music I fell in love with back in 2016 and have been patiently awaiting for new content from since. She hinted at dropping new music last December, and boy was this worth the wait. This cover of the 1975 release by Hot Chocolate is retro, playful, and, what else? Sexy. I hope to hear more from Ms. Day in the near future, but until then, I will have this, Kicker, and the Man On The Moon/Hunnie Pie single on a continuous loop. 

Red by Lucy Daydream: I found this song in my Spotify Discovery Weekly back in April, and what a fun find it was. This song is a relaxing indie pop bop with inexplicable replay value. I loved this so much that I even checked out Lucy Daydream’s album from this year, Awake & Dreaming, and while the rest of the album didn’t quite match this song in my opinion, I still thought it was a nice listen. I’m definitely keeping Lucy Daydream on my radar going into the future.  

What About Love by BANKS: As I mentioned on my Rapid-Fire Reviews list, I wasn’t all that into III. However, there were some songs on it that I really latched onto, and this was one of them. This song conveys so much raw emotion, with one of BANKS’s most impassioned performances on the whole album. I love the use of autotune, quivering strings, sparse keys, and fluttering vocal samples to create an isolated yet overwhelming soundscape, (it’s amazing with headphones on.) Also, every lyric in this hits like a gut punch. 

Harmony Hall by Vampire Weekend: I thought that I liked this song, but I guess I love this song, because it ended up being my fifth most listened to song of 2019? There’s definitely a reason for that, this song is so instantly likable, with a memorable guitar line, bright pianos, and one of the most anthemic choruses of the year. 

Alligator by Of Monsters and Men: What a smash debut single this was, I was hooked from the very first chord. The energy in this song is unmatched, it has a sense of propulsive power that always hypes me up. The thin layers of distortion and reverb over the guitars and Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir’s voice give this song a sense of otherworldly eeriness that I really enjoy. 

Blown to Bits by Charly Bliss: This song sounds like the jittery feeling I get after drinking caffeine in the best kind of way, if that makes any kind of sense. The buzzy guitars, vocal layering, and overall electric energy present on this track made it an instant favorite off of Charly Bliss’s album from this year Young Enough. Also the lyrics are weirdly relatable as they recount feelings of uncertainty and nostalgia, and Eva Hendricks delivers them with firepower. 

House Of Glass by Cage The Elephant: This is just a banger through and through, and the fact that the opening riff is reminiscent of “Come A Little Closer” doesn’t hurt either. The verses maintain a nice sense of tension, with Matt Schultz delivering the lyrics in a near whisper. But once that chorus kicks in, it’s official, I have no choice but to become a swaggering badass. 

still feel by half•alive: This was my first favorite song of the year, (and I know it was technically a single from last year, but the album dropped this year, so I’m counting it,) I remember playing this on a loop all throughout January. And you know what? It hasn’t faded on me in the slightest, this is still a banger through and through. The bass groove, the snaps, that little chime that comes at the end of the prechorus, it makes for one hell of a buildup. And once that chorus hits I have no choice but to groove off into the galaxy.

In the Afternoon by MGMT: Another comeback that made this year amazing! Not only are MGMT back with a new single, but they’re also independent now, which inspired my best pun of the year. This song slams, it’s filled with creepy atmosphere but by the end you’ll be dancing and singing along. Needless to say, I’m hyped to see what they bring into the new year.

My Favorite Fish by Gus Dapperton: The melody on this chorus is so catchy, once you hear it it will not leave your head. I also love the vibe of this song, it’s very relaxed and nonchalant in its delivery. I reckon it’d be a nice song to take a long, sunset walk on the beach to. 

Little Trouble by Better Oblivion Community Center: Better Oblivion Community Center, the collaboration project of Phoebe Bridgers and Conor Oberst, put out a lot of great music this year. I was torn between this and “Dylan Thomas” to make the list, but ultimately picked this one because its energy, built up by squealing electric guitars and shuffling drums, is so upbeat, and over the course of the year it never failed to put a smile on my face.

Can’t Buy Happiness by Tash Sultana: Tash Sultana has always been a musician I’ve tended to admire for their talent from afar, never returning to their music all that often. This song, however, broke that pattern with its hypnotically beautiful simplicity. The gentle guitars that open this track blossom into a lush soundscape during each chorus, studded with grandiose synths, light cymbals, and Tash Sultana’s larger-than-life performance. 

Fucking Money Man by ROSALÍA: I’m including both songs on this single release because they’re equally brilliant. “Milionària” is a lively, upbeat track that relishes in opulence, peppered with the playful refrain of “fucking money man” and snappy drums. The tone switches right after with the haunting ballad “Dio$ No$ Libre Del Dinero,” which warns of the dangers of greed. 

Everybody Loves You by SOAK: The way the narrative on this song unfold as the track progresses is just beautiful. I don’t want to go too in depth, because I feel like it’s someone a person should experience without knowing anything prior. Let’s just say that this was a song I came back to whenever I was feeling emo, and the way it blossoms into brightness always has a way of making me feel better whenever I’m down. 

Rylan by The National: So The National have been around for literal decades but I just discovered them this year, loving the song “I’ll Still Destroy You” off of Sleep Well Beast especially. However, I also really enjoyed this song, with its breezy rock sound and melancholy lyrical narrative. The ghostly backing vocals that inhabit the mix send shivers down my spine. Also, the bridge. Just, everything about the bridge. 

Summer Girl by HAIM: This breezy, chill tune was perfect for those long, relaxed days in August where the afternoons drag on until 9:00pm. It reminds me of “Walk on the Wild Side” by Lou Reed, but a bit jazzier, with the saxophone and the playful “doo doo doo” refrain. I aspire to the levels of cool that HAIM have achieved. I know I’ll never reach it, but I still aspire to it.

cellophane by FKA Twigs: If there was any one quality that I would point to in order to describe why this song is so good, it would be its build in dynamics. This song starts out as sounding so fragile it could shatter at any second, which Twigs’s vocals barely rising above a whisper and backed in gentle murmurs and light pianos. However, as the sharper synths slither in and her voice gets more powerful, the sound builds to a gorgeous and jaw-dropping finale that never loses any of its emotion for a second. 

Barefoot In The Park by James Blake ft. ROSALÍA: This song sounds like running through a forest while alien lights flash overhead. The ambiance is romantic and slightly chilling, made up of light marimbas, siren-like vocal samples, and whispering synths. I initially listened to this song because of ROSALÍA, but I ended up loving it so much that I checked out James Blake’s album from this year, Assume Form, too. 

Bags by Clairo: Clairo’s debut album Immunity was a beautiful display of emotion and subtlety, and this was my favorite song off of that project. The production here is sweet and sorrowful, with flitting guitars and light drums, and Clairo’s lyrics and performance match perfectly. Everything about this communicates reserved, tender pining, (are y’all sensing a theme on this list?) It makes me go absolutely bananas every time I hear it.

Get Well by Donna Missal: Y’all know I’ll take any chance to talk about my queen Donna Missal. She released two singles this year, this and the excellent R&B slow-burner “You Burned Me,” but I had to pick this one for the list. Not only did this drop on Valentine’s Day, but I love how restrained and delicate this song is, both in its simple production and in Donna’s bordering-on-fragile delivery. 

Falling by Harry Styles: This turned out to be my favorite song off of Fine Line. (My rapid-fire review for that album: pretty good, but a bit bland, and I missed the rock edge of Harry’s debut.) Still, this is a stunner if there ever was one. I’m just a sucker for a regretful love song with a bare yet effective instrumental and emotive vocals. 

I Lost a Friend by FINNEAS: I’ve spoken multiple times about how I love the way this song builds throughout its runtime. This song starts out with a simple guitar line and slowly adds elements like distortion, flutes, and bass to communicate the emotional intensity in the lyrics. FINNEAS is a fascinating performer and producer, both in his work and with others, and I can’t wait to see what he does in the future. 

Seventeen by Sharon Van Etten: This year I’ve been thinking a lot about the future, and one of the ways I would sate my anxieties about uncertainties to come would be through music, (I don’t know if that was apparent from many of my picks on this list.) No song better described the whirlwind of emotions ripping through me than this one. Sharon Van Etten’s take on giving advice to her younger self served as a comforting voice of reason to me throughout the year. Her performance here is assuring yet slightly concerned, nostalgic and yet tinged with regret. This almost sounds like a lost Stevie Nicks song, with a propulsive build of guitars, unrestrained synths dancing throughout the mix, and a chorus that I want to scream out the window of a car speeding down a highway. I absolutely adore it. 

I Dare You by The Regrettes: If you aren’t surprised, then I’m not surprised. I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned before that this is my song of the year, hands down. If “Seventeen” was the song that articulated all of my anxieties throughout the year, then “I Dare You” was the song that provided a reprieve from them. This song feels timeless, like it could’ve come out during a slew of decades, and yet it sounds modern as well. Every detail of the instrumental seems perfectly designed to form the most catchy and likable song ever created, from the light snares, to the “oohs” in the prechorus, to the colorful guitars. Also, can we talk about how adorable the lyrics are? They perfectly describe the flurry of feeling that come with a crush, from “you’re the one that brings the sun” to “there's a look that you give me, a switch / and my filter melts, and the words just slip.” Not only was this my most-listened to song this year, but I can’t think of a piece of music this year that made me happier every time I returned to it. Also, the music video was just as cute as the song was. 

And that’s the list! What were your favorite songs of 2019? Any artists, albums, singles, etc. I should know about? Leave your thoughts and recommendations down below.

#favorites #songs #music #song of the year #song recommendation #not tagging every artist good lorde #taste in music #taste in music 2019 faves

[firstumcschenectady]

“By Whose Authority” based on Psalm 78:1-4, 12-16, Matthew 21:23-32

There are fantastic people in life who are able to quickly assess a situation, and make a solid decision on a response.  I deeply envy those people.  I'm a different kind of person, one who wants access to as much information as possible, and then often internally oscillates repeatedly.  A good friend doing committee work with me once told me that “our meetings would go a lot faster if you would stop debating with yourself – outloud.”  #truth.  

Because I've been examining the Gospel lesson this week, I am aware that decisions require deciding where we put our trust.  That is, who or what has authority.  That is because the central question in today's Gospel lesson is one of authority.  Jesus was teaching, but as a poor man without a formal position or education, he didn't have a whole lot of authority.  The chief priests and elders had the education and the positions.  They held formal authority.  

In that time and place, like any other, authority mattered.  They seem genuinely confused.   “why is this guy speaking like he has authority when he has none?  Does he have a powerful patron he is speaking for?”  The answer Jesus gives amounts to “I have the authority of the respect of the people.”1

DANG.

That itself uprooted everything in his society.  This was bottom up power and everyone knew that power came from the top down.  Those crowds, however, knew that the power from the top down was profoundly corrupt and corrupting.  

So, who or what has authority for you?  

And, if you say it is God, (*great*) what does that mean for you?

One of the gifts of the Methodist movement has been a way of thinking about authority that creates some balance.  The “Wesleyan Quadrilateral” suggests that when looking for truth about things to do with God, faith, and people, we take into account Scripture, Tradition, Scholarship2, and Personal Experience.  If something can be made sense of with all 4 of those areas of authority, it can be trusted.  If not, it has to be handled more carefully.  

That said, each of the pieces of the quadrilateral is more complicated than it may seem.  For instance, how scripture is understood seems to be a range wide enough to include pretty much every opinion and its opposite, and yet somehow with great conviction on every side.  :(  I believe it is pretty clear that the authority of “church tradition” is similarly broad, as is personal experience.  I think the Psalm tries to answer the authority question with some sort of balance of scripture and tradition – it says that because God has cared for us, we can trust God.  That's all fine and good, but it still doesn't answer our deeper questions.

For example, there is the question of what our faith community looks like during this global pandemic.  The issue, as you may be aware, is that the first general rule of John Wesley is “First do no harm.”  But that is ALSO not simple (nothing is simple with me, sorry).  Because doing no harm means not exposing anyone to increased risk of COVID exposure.  BUT, it also means not letting people who are hungry struggle with their hunger when we can give them food (so we have kept Breakfast open, even while offering it as take out).  It means making sure that families living in poverty still have toilet paper, diapers, and hygiene products (so we have been giving away our SUSTAIN supplies while our distribution has been closed.)  It means making sure people have access to others, in community, to be heard and to share life (our Zoom Check in, the Midweek Coffee Hour, the Bridging the Distance Groups.)

And, still, we know we have excluded.  Not everyone has internet.  Because the internet is PROFOUNDLY not the same, not everyone gains a sense of connection via the internet.  There has been a yearning for being in our worship space, for sharing space, for being more together.

And yet, still, “do no harm” with a pandemic!  So, what to do?  After MONTHS of internal oscillation, and lots of conversation with others, the best plan I have to offer is this:  we keep our worship online. We keep our Zoom check in as worship part 2.  We ALSO offer a “Contemplative Prayer Service” at 10AM in the Sanctuary.  This service won't involve singing, or even congregational speaking.  It will be quiet, still, reflective.  There will be masks and social distancing.  It will be short (30 minutes or less).  All of this will minimize risk – but also respond to need.  

Truth be told, I also LOVE contemplative prayer, and I think many of us need some time of stillness and prayer, and this may be good for our spiritual journeys.  

It wasn't easy to figure out how to go forward, and more difficult questions will keep coming, but this is where we got to for now.  My authorities have been the medical and scientific communities, the responses we've gotten from the church, the reopening committee, and my own personal experience.  

If I'm actually honest about how I make decisions, it all comes down to love.  My question is, “what is the most loving option” and then I have to take into account “for myself,” “for others,” “for the whole.” And that still doesn't create easy answers, but at least it means I'm making decisions in ways I can respect.  

(Let me take this time to say that pandemic decisions are ALL HARD, and we all come to them with different bodies, different risks, and different risk assessments.  We aren't all making the same choices, but I hope we are all trying to care for each other in our choices.)

So, for a moment, I'm going to assume that you want to go with me down the “what is most loving” path.  I imagine you'd ask, “what about when I'm stuck or unsure?”  In the past several years, I have been working on.... trusting myself a bit more.  Now, when I find myself stuck (including procrastinating), I ask myself “why” and explore it.  While there sometimes feels like urgency, I've found that when I (prayerfully) explore my stuckness, I usually discover something really important that isn't being cared for.  (This is really how we got to a contemplative prayer service, I couldn't figure out how to make in person worship work for enough people!)  

The other piece is to trust other people to tell you when you are wrong. This, actutally, is very Wesleyan, and I think it is one of the most important aspects of faith community.  We're all wrong sometimes. Which means we all need to be corrected sometimes.  Which means it is really good to work on the skill of listening to others, and admitting our errors.

This isn't a lot of new advice, is it?  Trust yourself when you are stuck that you are stuck for a reason, let love guide your choices, and admit it when you are wrong?  Like most faith stuff though, this is all easier said than done.  That, and it is pretty clear that authority and decisions are still hard for me!

Let me offer one more little thing then.  I've often heard it said around this church, “question everything” and I agree.  We question everything, and we try to come down on the side of love, and we seek to be open to correction and then …. we need on more piece.  The final piece is to practice forgiveness of self and of others, because we're all going to err even when we do our best.

With all this, may we get ever better at using God, and God's love, as our utmost authority.  Amen

1Based on the work of Bruce J Malina and Richard L. Rohrbaugh in “Social Science Commentary on the Synpotic Gospels” pages 108-109.

2Usually called “reason,” but that leads to misunderadning,

Rev. Sara E. Baron First United Methodist Church of Schenectady 603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305 Pronouns: she/her/hers http://fumcschenectady.org/ https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

September 27, 2020

#Thinking Church #Progressive CHristianity #First UMC Schenetady #Schenectady #UMC #Sorry about the UMC #Question Everything #infp #Rev Sara E Baron #Pandemic

[missjanjie]

Branjie Fic | Take Me Back to the Start (1/?)

Title: Take Me Back to the Start Summary:   Everyone remembers their first love. Not everyone carries those feelings from childhood to senior year. Yet Brock is starting his last year of high school while still longing for the relationship he lost five years ago. Meanwhile, José is at the top of the food chain and seems to have it all together. But maybe their story isn't over yet. Word Count: ~3.1k Relationship: Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo) Rating: T (so far)

Read on AO3

“Sweetie, look what I found!”

Brock’s mother let herself into his room - the door had been left slightly ajar, enough for her to take it as permission to enter.

That, and Brock hadn’t been paying much attention in the first place. He was lazily sprawled out on his bed, only propped up by the pile of pillows behind him. His headphones were in and he was aimlessly scrolling through his phone. It wasn’t until his mom rolled over to him in his desk chair that he became aware of the company. His face scrunched up and his head tilted to the side as he turned off his music. “What’s up?”

She was unfazed, however - being the mother of a teenager meant that this was a common occurrence. “I found this in a box of old photo albums, I think this one’s from your ninth birthday. Or maybe it was your tenth, whichever one you had at the roller rink,” she shrugged off the minor details and handed him the envelope. “Anyway, I thought you might like to look through them. There are so many cute photos, especially of you and José,” as she got up to leave, she murmured offhandedly about ‘what a nice kid he was’ and ‘such a shame they fell out.’

Brock waited until the door shut behind her before he looked through the photos. It was from his ninth birthday, he observed. They were fond memories, or at least they ought to be. Nearly every picture had him smiling and laughing – they could have been stock photos for a child’s birthday with how idyllic they looked.

But he didn’t feel the same sense of whimsical nostalgia that his mother had. When he looked at these captured memories, he felt a melancholic sense of longing. He smiled wanly as he flipped through the stack – a picture of him helping José put his skates on, one of them holding hands as they wobbled around the rink, of them smashing cake onto each other’s faces. Maybe he just missed the beauty of childhood friendship.

Except it wasn’t just any friendship, not even a best-friendship. Brock had been convinced he found the love of his life before they even started middle school. What they had was special, it was theirs. It was probably why his coming out didn’t come as much of a surprise.

And when it came down to it, it was why those feelings never left. One would think time would erase the tender yearning that came with a first love, that was what he’d always hoped for, anyway. But seeing him from a distance at school every day didn’t make that any easier.

“They are good pictures,” Brock conceded to himself, setting all but the hand-holding picture aside. His gaze refocused on the picture and he sighed. “You guys have no idea how easy you have it,” he remarked to the still-frame of his younger self.

Eight Years Earlier…

It was the morning after his birthday, it was bright and sunny and Brock woke up to something poking into his face repeatedly. “Huh?”

“Finally,” José huffed in exasperation, moving his hand away to place on his hip instead. He looked at the blonde, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement. “You sleep like a dang rock. Almost went to get water, splash you awake.”

Brock yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Thank you for not doing that,” he mumbled, sleepiness still weighing down his voice. He got to his feet as he adjusted to the waking world. “How long have you been up anyway?”

“I don’t got a watch,” he shrugged as they made their way into the kitchen for a pancake breakfast.

Joan was cutting up some fruit to finish the breakfast spread. “Morning, boys,” she chirped, turning to watch them sit down and help themselves. “Is your mom alright with you coming to the park with us, José?”

The child nodded, dousing his breakfast in syrup until the meal appeared to be equal parts syrup and food. “She said so yesterday at the party.” And he had no reason to lie about that – his mom was just as supportive of their relationship. That, and if she were suspicious, Joan would call to double check.

And the park wasn’t too far anyway. It was close enough that, once they were dressed and ready, they could walk to within a matter of minutes. They could probably do the trip in their sleep, and Brock was promised the freedom to go there by himself when he turned ten.

This visit, at least, came with the perfect weather for a day in the park. It was almost unseasonably warm for early March, but comfortable with clear skies and a gentle breeze. The park was occupied without being crowded, and the boys didn’t waste any time before they ran off to play.

“Look! I don’t even get dizzy when I do it anymore!” Brock boasted proudly as he hung upside down from the monkey bars. He hung like that until he was certain José was looking in approval before he flipped back around and jumped down.

“See? That’s why you gonna make a great ballerina,” José grinned. Other than his mom, José was the only one that had readily embraced his dreams and aspirations. Hell, he thought it was cool that Brock wanted to be different.

Brock beamed at the praise. “You’re the best. Hold on, I’m gonna go show my mom,” he turned and started to where she was, sitting at a table in the shade and reading a romance novel.

But he hadn’t even gotten halfway there when his attention was pulled back to the playground.

“‘Sup homo?” A couple of older boys – probably in middle school – had come up to José, both towering over him with malicious smirks.

José scowled and puffed up his chest. “Didn’t yo mamas tell you to leave me alone?”

“Our mamas’ ain’t here,” the other boy retorted in a mockingly whiny tone.

He huffed, face flushed red with anger, and tried to push past them to walk away, only to be blocked off by the pair, the taller of the two shoving him to the ground.

They laughed at the way the wind was knocked out of him. “Watch it, fag,” he snapped.

The next few moments were a bit of a blur, but the next thing they knew, Brock and José were fighting the tweens with all of their might until Joan and another concerned parent came to break up the mele.

“Yo, come at me again, I dare you!” José shouted, kicking and flailing in the woman’s grasp until she struggled to restrain him.

“Oh whatever, you and your boyfriend aren’t that tough,” the initial aggressor scoffed before he and his buddy left to lick their wounds.

José was finally released and he looked over to see Brock getting lectured on ‘conflict resolution’ and his stomach twisted with guilt. “It ain’t his fault,” he interrupted, “I was outnumbered, he was just tryna protect me.”

“There are non-violent solutions to bullies,” she pointed out. “But all things considered, I understand both of your actions, though I definitely do not encourage them.” And with that, she allowed the boys to continue playing.

The two boys sat on the swings, too exhausted to do anything more than sit and lightly sway.

“I’m sorry I got you sucked into that,” José mumbled, kicking at the dirt.

“You didn’t, I chose to,” he shrugged, staring up at the sky. “They’re just big jerks, so I’ll always have your back. Even if they think we’re boyfriends.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Both of them had learned early on what ‘gay’ is, and it didn’t take long for them to figure out that the label fit them. It wasn’t weird, they’d insist, to have crushes on boys instead of girls. But they never told anyone but their mothers, and each other, of course. It wasn’t something they would announce, as even in third grade, they were well aware of the consequences that came with being different, as the targeted bullying proved.

“Well, I don’t think it’s bad,” Brock finally answered. “Do you?”

José shook his head. “I ain’t scared of it or nothin’, but what does being boyfriends even mean if we can’t even go to the movies by ourselves?”

Brock tilted his head. He wasn’t really sure what it meant to be someone’s boyfriend. Living in a single parent household didn’t give him much of a frame of reference, and the sister that he was closest to had a girlfriend, and that just wouldn’t be the same, right? “I dunno. I guess we just do what we want.”

“So, are we boyfriends now?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Not long after that, they were called to get ready and head back home, and they pushed themselves up off the swings. Brock looked over at the smaller boy and held out his hand to him.

José looked at his extended hand, then back up to him before taking it, smiling from ear to ear. Their hands fit together perfectly, it felt like two puzzle pieces connecting together and even if that was the only difference between friends and boyfriends, it was just the improvement they needed.

Present Day

The dinner table was painfully quiet, the only sounds coming from silverware clanking against plates. Except for Brock, who was just pushing his food around the plate with his fork.

“Are you feeling alright, honey? You’ve hardly eaten a bite.”

“Huh?” Brock looked up from his plate, only realizing then how much he had spaced out until he was yanked back into reality. It took him another moment to process the question. “Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just...nervous. First day of school and all.”

Joan was never much for pushing emotional conversations, for better or for worse, so she accepted that at face value. “Oh, but it’s senior year, you’ll be able to take it easy before you know it!”

He did smile at that, her unwavering optimism usually did the trick when it came to cheering him up. “I know, but until then, the pressure’s on.”

And even on an academic level that was true. The past year consisted primarily of Brock busting his ass to develop a portfolio to apply to the best dance programs in the country. It was all or nothing for him - he didn’t have a backup, no matter what his guidance counselor had advised. It would be insane if he didn’t have the skill to back it up, at least.

When dinner ended, Brock got up and started to clear the table.

“I’ve got it. I want you to go ahead and relax before tomorrow, alright?”

“Thanks, Mom,” instead of cleaning up, he leaned over to hug her and escaped to his room. He did want to relax, and he was sure he needed to, but he still felt like a tightly wound ticking time bomb. And it was in times like this that, even now, he wished he had José back in his life in any capacity beyond someone he could hardly stand to make eye contact when they passed each other in the halls.

Six Years Earlier…

“No. No, no, no, no. I can’t do it. I have to forfeit I-I-I--” Brock was pacing back and forth, shaking with nerves, all until José grabbed his arm with one hand and smacked him with the other. “Hey!”

José rolled his eyes, his grip on Brock’s arm remaining firm. “You being ridiculous as hell right now. You ain’t quittin’, you’re gonna get yo ass on stage and perform the hell out of that routine I seen you practice every day for months now. I don’t care if you got feet so cold they’re in Antarctica, you’re not chickening out.”

Brock whined and pouted and kicked his feet. On one hand, he hated how José left him without a leg to stand on in terms of their argument, but on the other, he knew there was nothing else that would’ve pulled him back into reality, no one else that would’ve been able to talk any sense into him. “But what if I blow it? Like, I trip, or I forget my moves, or I throw up?”

“Okay, ew. But if you do, it’s whatever. There’ll be the next one,” he said simply. “You the youngest one here, there’s gonna be more.”

“That’s the thing! I’m the only one here that’s under thirteen, if I blow it, it’ll be all ‘See? That’s why kids can’t do it’.”

He grabbed his shoulders and stood up on his tiptoes to look into his eyes. “But you can. And you gonna. Now get it together, yo ass is on in five.”

Almost immediately after that, José was ushered away so Brock could be redirected to wait in the wings. He listened to the upbeat pop music fade out, followed by reasonably enthusiastic applause. He watched a girl in a purple, sequined leotard take a dramatic bow before walking offstage, moving with the grace she must have danced with.

The next thing he knew, he was on the stage, immersed in his routine. It was almost an out-of-body experience, he swore he was watching himself perform instead of actually doing it, as if his body took over to give his mind a much needed rest.

And just like that, it was over. His chest rose and fell heavily while the crowd cheered for him. Even as he was leaving the stage, he still felt as if he were floating.

But then he saw José waiting for him and his entire being had something to focus on. With adrenaline still coursing through him, he sprinted towards the smaller boy and spun him around. “Did you see?” he asked breathlessly.

“Hell yeah I saw! That was amazing, I told ya you could do it,” José giggled, his broad smile hidden with his face resting against Brock’s shoulder until he was set back on his feet. “How many people are left?”

“Five, I think,” he shrugged, plopping himself on a couch and gulping down a bottle of water. “Might as well be a million, I don’t wanna know.”

José rolled his eyes and sat cross-legged next to him. “You know that ain’t true. You just gotta like, zone out for a little while, and you’ll be ready. I was right before, so now you gotta believe me. It’s, you know, science or whatever.”

Brock supposed there was merit in José’s logic, at least enough for him not to argue with him. Instead, he quietly rest his head in his lap - looking up at his face was a much better alternative to staring blankly into space until the emcee of the competition called the dancers back to the stage.

Third place went to a petite girl with box braids styled into a bun and a poised, confident posture that made Brock think a professional gymnast had wandered into a dance competition. And as far as he was concerned, her routine could perform circles around his, so there was no way he had placed.

“And in second place, we have… Brock Hayhoe!”

Wait, what? Surely he must’ve heard incorrectly, but the girl next to him nudged him forward, mouthing ‘congrats’ with a warm smile. It hardly even registered that a silver medal was being placed around his neck, and he hadn’t the slightest idea who had taken first. It wasn’t until the fanfare had died down and competitors were reuniting with their families that it hit him - he had placed in his first real dance competition, one that he was supposedly ‘underqualified’ for.

It was no surprise that as he bounded off the stage, still on cloud nine, his eyes focused right on José, and he picked up speed in a beeline towards him.

Brock hadn’t even realized what had happened next until a man cleared his throat and stared him down in disapproval. Then it hit him that his hands were cupping José’s face and he realized that not only had he won his first competition; he’d just had his first kiss.

They stood in awkward silence until they could be relatively isolated. “Wow,” José finally broke the tension. “Wonder what woulda happened if you got the gold.”

And like always, that humor of his put him right at ease. Brock exhaled and smiled gently. “You’re the one that says I overthink everything. Guess that’s what happens when I don’t think at all.”

José laughed and chastely pecked his cheek. “Just don’t think then. Been working for me.”

Present Day

It was in the middle of the night, and Brock had been tossing and turning for at least a couple hours now. Defeated by his inability to fall asleep, he threw the covers off of him and rose to his feet, aimlessly walking around his room in hopes of tiring himself out.

Not long after that, he’d stopped in front of the shelf at the far end of his room. His uncle had built it when he’d started running out of space on his dresser to display his awards. Lately, it had become a source of both affirmation and immense pressure. He had to live up to the reputation he had made for himself in the competition circuit.

His gaze drifted back to the pictures from his birthday party. It was nights like this that made him miss his exuberant cheerleader that much more. In the years since, no one had ever been able to have the same effect on him.

Eventually he concluded that being out of bed was doing nothing to tire him out, and gave up. He tucked himself back in, willing himself to sleep with a silent prayer that tomorrow wasn’t torture as a result.

And when Brock blearily shuffled into school the next day it became glaringly obvious that his prayer went unanswered. The fluorescent lights were far too bright and everyone yelling and laughing as they reunited after summer break was far too loud. It was like he was hungover without even getting the fun experience of being drunk.

Then he saw José stride through the halls in his freshly-cleaned cheerleading uniform, he found himself angry, almost irrationally so. His presence was mocking him, the irony was too literal. Even though he knew their paths would cross, he had hoped it wouldn’t be shoved in his face like that. He leaned against the locker, head tilted back and pressed against the metal as he groaned.

“Senior year and you’re still carrying a torch for him?”

Brock jumped, hitting his head against the locker and cursing under his breath. “Jesus Christ, Steve,” he hissed, then sighed. “What difference does it make?”

“The difference,” he smirked, “is that you’re going to do something about it.”

#branjie #branjie fic #rpdr rpf #rpdr fanfiction