#he made the devil so much stronger than a man ; verse

[scribeforchrist-blog]

No Compromising In Our Heart

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

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+ Psalm 63:6 When I remember You on my bed, I think of You through the watches of the night

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VERSE OF THE DAY 

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+ Matthew 5:28 But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.

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** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM KEEPING MY EYES ON GOD

I AM DENYING THE FLESH

I AM A CONQUEROR

I AM FREE

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THOUGHTS:

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 So lust is one of things I haven’t really talked about in the devotional for many reason but one reason is I tell everyone I don’t write anything unless the Lord tells me too, I don’t write the devotionals all theses are from the Holy Spirit I couldn’t do any of this writing on my own and its him who leads and guides me through and to do anything , but lately he has placed in my heart to talk about lust , and I try even on the podcast to keep everything rated G , because we must do things in decent and in order and in the truth of God , but this devotional here is about lust , its about wanting and desiring in a lustful way.

It’s so much on TV and even in books that can cause us to have our eyes filled with lust if we allow it , this can cause the spirit of perversion to come right in , but we must everyday ask God to renew our mind , renew our heart because alot of times we dont realize that lust can sit dormant in our hearts and minds until the right time to come up and when it do it can be strong if we arent allowing the Holy Spirit to work in us and on us every day !

   The verse today tells us that when we look at anyone in a lustful way, we have already committed adultery in our hearts without even approaching this person. He used the word adultery because when we are in a committed relationship with Jesus , and we decide to take our eyes and wonder and ponder about other things in a lustful way. We have already committed adultery; when someone commits adultery, it can happen through text, physical touch,  etc., but when we look, and we stare, and we create all these moments in our head with this person we have sinned, and what we must do is avoid having a moment where we let our mind race, or when we allow our mind to wonder what IF . I know someone is going to say well, I should just go ahead and do this particular sin; no, that's not a good idea either because when we even do those acts, they are just as bad. The anointing that we carry becomes weaker because we decided to allow our bodies to do stuff outside of the marriage bed.

  Job 31:1 I have made a covenant with my eyes; how then could I gaze at a virgin?"

  Job states here that he made a covenant not to lust and look upon anyone, and he wanted to clarify why he did this , and he wanted to show he took the stance against LUST , the choice not to lust; he felt this was a line he didn't want to cross and this is how we must be we must understand the littlest thing we give attention to will cause us to lust because we are made of the flesh each time we catch our body doing things it shouldn't do we must say “father forgive me my eyes lusted or father forgive me my mind had thoughts.

We have to stop giving a foot hold to the devil because when we do, we are enabling him to control our body, and someone will say lust is stronger or harder for men than women. I dont know. I'm not a man; I'm a woman, but what I can tell you is that if we all handle lust in the same way and place it before God, we won't leave room for error. 

  "Colossians 3:5 Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry."

  It tells us here to put death to sexual immorality and anything impure and of passion because if we allow these things to linger, watching pornography and such, we will cause ourselves to fall unto the spirit of perversion, we have to gain control and rebuke this spirit perversion that is sweeping this country and this generation.

When we turn on the TV ,when we listen to music, it is everywhere. If we allow ourselves to let things be okay, we will soon be okay with the spirit of perversion filling us, but we must only allow the HOLY SPIRIT to fill us; this Spirit is looked on as being okay because so many people like to exercise their right to look and play around with things of the flesh, but we as believers of God must say no to the flesh, we must say no to perversion we must say no to filling our eyes. Yes, this might be hard, but we must do it to live righteously and to live pure.

  " Ephesians 5:4 Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place, but rather thanksgiving."

  It even said here foolish talk , coarse joking cant be tolerated, yes we all like to laugh and joke, but we can't allow even our speech to be out of order we are a representation of God ,we are his children we must keep everything pure and decent, allowing our selves to let go and fall prey to the simplest  foolish acts is no way okay because we are then giving ourselves over to the enemy, we can't do that friends we must say no right now and renounce anything that is sexual and anything similar to the spirit of perversion 

*** Today we talked about lust and how to allow ourselves not to let the enemy in through this door , this devotional is something ALOT of people won’t like nor care to read but we as people of God must remain HOLY in this world , we see alot of believers are compromising and they THINK this is okay and it isn’t okay to be like the world the Bible says this DO NOT BE CONFORMED TO THIS WORLD , but be ye transformed we must be different and represent ourselves in a different way. Lust is a spirit that can come in and create yolks and bondage we must stay clear of this spirit at all cost if your struggling with this spirit don’t be shamed go to God the more we are shamed the more we are tied to this spirit.

©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

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PRAYER

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Heavenly Father thank you for your word, thank you for changing us and creating in us a new spirit father today if we are dealing with this spirit we surrender to you now. God mold us and help us to be different, help us to not be like this and be entice by the things we see , lord we want this yolk broken right now! We ask you to cleanse our eyes and ears , lord we rebuke the spirit of lust and perversion, we send it back to where it came from right now we ask that you take over our life , and we believe that we are free from this , we take every moment you give us to escape any situation we are in that could bring on lustful behavior , we claim victory in Jesus Mighty name Amen

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REFERENCES 

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+ Galatians 5:16 But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.

+ Colossians 3:5 Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry.

+2 Timothy 2:22 - So flee youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace, along with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart.

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FURTHER READINGS 

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Proverbs 6

Acts 12

Leviticus 4

Matthew 15

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#bible #bible quotes #christian quote #daily devotion #daily devotional #inspiration #scripture #bible verse #christian life #christan life #jesusitrustinyou #jesusisgod #faith in jesus

[ashintheairlikesnow]

You Have to Let Go

For @whumptober2021​′s Day One prompt, “You Have to Let Go” / Betrayal

CW: Forced vampirism, blood drinking, vampire whumpee, whumpee takes revenge, referenced drug addiction

1908, somewhere outside of New York City

“You can’t keep this up forever.” William, one of the oldest members of the pack at just over a century, lays on his back on a chaise, his head hanging off, looking upside-down at the newest vampire in the pack.

Blood does not pool in his head or redden his cheeks, although he’s been like that for an hour or more. He stays pale, his hair and skin and even his eyes all nearly the same shade. It gives him the appearance of a ghost, although he’s solid enough.

Cold, and solid.

More marble statue than man, now. And yet still more man than animal, though that depends a little on the viewer’s perspective.

“Watch, watch me try,” Tristan hisses back at him from where he sits, curled up in the corner of the room, arms around his bent legs. He stares at a mostly-healed scar on his left knee, from a time he tripped and fell in the dark of the basement downstairs. It’ll be there forever now, he’s told, a reminder for eternity of the wounds he wore when he died. 

He pushes on it. There’s no pain.

Of course there isn’t. Pain is your body trying to warn you not to die, and he’s already dead. What is there to warn him of now? All the worst things have already happened. 

There’s a soft cry from an adjacent room, woozy and almost sultry. An answering murmur in Malorie’s low voice. There’s a flirty laugh, and then the next sound is less cry than moan. He’d blush if he still could. Instead, he ignores the sound. Someone paying money for the oblivion the venom offers them, or paying in skin and blood. 

Vampires aren’t picky, and blood renews much faster than coins, anyway.

“We gave you a gift. Wrapped it all up in a bow for you, didn’t we? ” William has an odd accent, like he’s a mix of Brit and something else that Tristan doesn’t recognize. There’s a mocking lilt to his tone that Tristan knows from his own childhood, the landowner’s children teasing him for his oddities and for the way they felt all the families working their land were more or less the same. Tris hadn’t been the favorite of the other farmers’ kids - there’d been whispers behind hands about all the bits of him that weren’t like other children - but they’d banded together against the landowner’s children still. He remembered with fuzzy affection the others picking up rocks more than once to throw in his defense.

There were still parts of home where there were rumors of changeling children, and his mother had angrily shouted down an accusation more than once, when he was young and caught lining up river rocks in perfect circles. But for all that there might be whispers from the old, the other village children had always stuck together when someone from outside came mocking.

He’d been so happy to get away from the town, going on the ship with his parents to America. Tears threaten at the memory of his mother holding him at the edge of the ship, the salt-spray in his face as they set off and away from home and toward what she promised would be a grand new one. 

Her sister had gone ahead first, years before, and had written glowing letters about America as a land of chances that Ireland didn’t offer. 

He wondered, bitterly, if his aunt had already been hooked on the venom by then. If she’d been writing those letters from vampire dens, with a pair of fangs buried in her other arm while she signed Your loving sister, Joanne.

Had she known she would try to sell him before she ever saw his face? Had she sold his parents’ lives, too, somehow?

He wishes, fierce and strong, that they had never left Ireland at all. That his mother had known not to trust Joanne as far as she could throw her. Too late, though. Too late.

Joanne the only one left standing, now. The rest of them are dead.

Even Tristan, who can be dead and still be separated from his parents by the gulf of their different kinds of death, who stares into damnation even if he were fully destroyed now. He remembers trying to confess his sins to a priest who chased him from the church with screams of demon, demon, begone. His soul has been handed over to evil, and all he’d ever done was try to be good. 

Tristan wipes the pink tears from his cheeks before William can see them. “I, I, I didn’t want your, your gift.”

“Does that matter now?” William flips over onto his stomach and drops to the floor into a crouch, smiling. His fangs glimmer in the dimness, as the night stretches on and on towards dawn. Already the horizon is going lighter around the edges, a soft dove gray that will lead soon to pink and blue. Already, Tristan can feel an unnatural exhaustion weighing down his bones, the need to sleep while the sun is up.

“To, to me it does.” Tristan leans his head slowly against the wall, closing his eyes. The pulse of thirst is stronger than his heartbeat ever was. 

“You’re not human any longer,” William says, and there’s a gentleness to his voice that Tristan is surprised by, turning to look at him. “You have to let go of all that. You’re not it any longer, and won’t be again. But isn’t this better?”

Tristan blinks once, twice. “No,” He whispers but fiercely. “I’ve, I’ve, been, um, I’ve been made a murderer, against my will. What of that is, is better?”

“All men kill, one way or another.” William shrugs, casual and unbothered. “We are only more honest about it and our reasons. But here, look, I’ve had one more thing done.”

He claps his hands. Tristan flinches at the sound, but the soft murmurings of the pack from other rooms goes silent. Then they drift into the parlor, one by one. Malorie is still wiping her latest partner’s blood from around the corners of her mouth, smiling. 

There are seven in the pack, not counting Tristan himself. He tries not to count himself.

When he looks now he frowns, seeing only five. “William?”

“We’ve one more gift for you,” William says, and gestures to the open double-sized doorway. 

Tristan stares as the last two members of the pack appear, with his aunt held between them, bound until she has to be dragged and cannot walk on her own.

Joanne’s eyes are wild, rimmed in bright white. She is gagged, cloth tied over her mouth until it bites viciously into the corners of her mouth. She sees him and begins to struggle anew, shouting as best she can. Nonsense sounds, muffled, pointless shouting. 

He can’t tell if she is begging for her life or cursing him.

He wishes he could believe it’s the former.

“What, what, what what what is this?” His words are barely a whisper, as he unfolds himself, pushing up onto his feet. His gums begin to itch around where his fangs have grown, the venom ready. 

“She’s behind in her payments again,” Alyssa says, laying her head on Joanne’s shoulder, her long brown hair falling half over her face. “In too deep. Chases the fang and doesn’t pay her rent, doesn’t pay us either.”

Tristan stands perfectly still, feeling nearly frozen. His aunt’s terror and panic are something he can smell, now, the sharp tang of adrenaline. It sours the blood, but there are vampires who prefer it that way. Who say the sour taste of pain and fear is a higher form of flavor.

William steps up to his side, running a hand down Tristan’s arm. He flinches away from the touch, but he knows better than to move away from the pack leader more than that. His chin tucks down in unconscious submission to William’s will. “You, you, you you you want me, to, to… kill her?”

“You miss your family,” William says, softly. “It ties you to your old life.” He smiles, something Tristan can see from the corner of his eyes, and leans his head slowly against Tristan’s, mingling white and red hair together. “She’s the reason they’re lost to you, right?”

“Yes,” He whispers in reply, turning slightly into the touch. William’s cool hands comes to cup his face, and he presses a soft kiss, light as air, against Tristan’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, finally presses their lips together.

It’s all sensation without temperature, and Tristan hums, opening his mouth for it, letting William take what he wants. His packleader’s tongue finds his fangs, presses against the venom glands just above and behind them. 

A tingle of venom falls onto Tristan’s tongue.

William hums. “Good boy,” He whispers, making Tristan shudder, half-disgusted and half-grateful for the praise. 

Joanne’s struggles kick up into a frenzy, but they do her no good. She’s bound so tightly that her wrists are rubbing raw to bleeding, and he can smell it. Saliva gathers in his mouth, his venom pulsing, sizzling on his tongue like a hot pepper eaten raw. He finds himself shaking, hands clinging now to William’s arms just to stay standing.

Joanne welcomed them when they got off the boat. But she’d snubbed Tristan’s father, had never liked him. She’d helped them find work, and all along she’d gone places at odd hours of the day and night. 

All she’d said to him after his parents died and he moved in with her was that his mother was never meant to die. She’d been meant to be out of the apartment, but had decided not to go on the errand to the woman who took in piecework, and Joanne had told him, I didn’t know she’d be home, or I’d have changed the day, wouldn’t I?

Then she said he should stop mewling in his grief, and slapped him full in the face for it. 

His lips pull back from his teeth, although he isn’t quite aware of it. Only of the taste of blood in the air on his tongue. 

“Have your revenge,” William whispers, the devil tempting a boy who has never been a saint. Tristan wonders if his mother will hate him, in her eternal rest, that he isn’t strong enough to resist this chance. 

He tips his head back and lets William mouth along the line of his neck.

“Let death come upon them, and let them go down alive into hell.” The verses come easily, without stammering. He was always better at reciting what he’d been taught to memorize, the words his mother read and reread to him, than at speaking for himself. “For there is wickedness in their dwellings, in, in the midst of them. But I have cried to God: and the Lord will save me.” His lips twist, and the tears burn so hot it feels like they are boiling over his eyes and down his cold skin. “But, but, but I cried, Aunt Jo, and-... and and and no one saved, um, saved me.”

He turns away from William and meets his aunt’s eyes.

She stares back at him, still struggling, still fighting. The blood from her torn-open arms runs down her hands behind her back, dripping to the floor. He can hear each droplet hit one by one. He can smell the fear in her, and he can smell what she’s spent her day doing. That she slept late, and ate at a place down the block from their tenement where the old woman sells sandwiches, the big blocks of meat carved to order. 

He can smell that she never thought of him at all, as she prepared to come here, to the den, for venom she can pour into a cocktail. He can smell even the way she was surprised when they told her there would be no more credit for her, she must pay now or perish.

She can’t pay. There is nothing left. She’s long since spent every bit of scratch that she gained from the deaths of her sister and brother-by-marriage, the extra cash that came from selling her nephew into… this.

He’s been moving across the floor and barely noticed. He’s only a foot or so away from her now, and the smell of her sweat is as strong as her blood. His pack members can see the fight in him fading, he’s sure, because their eyes are overbright and glittering with excitement. 

He holds her gaze.

It’s easier, since he died, to look people in the eyes. He’s not sure why.

“You,” He says, in a low voice that no longer trembles. “You made it so, so, so so I won’t ever be seeing them again. As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up. If, if you had, if I had died with them, if I…”

His throat feels like it’s closing, his voice dries up. 

“But, but, but, but you made me be damned,” Tristan manages, finally, his voice thready and barely-there. “Even if… even if I, if someone, if I am… I’ll still never, um, never see them again. We are, are, are, are both damned, now.”

William, just behind him, a cool presence the same temperature as the air around them, hums, interested. His hands rub up and down Tristan’s arms. “Will you kill her, Tristan? Have your vengeance? We’ll clean what’s left up for you.”

“No.”

Everyone inhales, although they don’t need to, in surprise.

Tristan stares one last time into his aunt’s frightened eyes. “I, I, I won’t, won’t kill her. But, um, but but but… but… I want… want you, your gift to be something else, William.”

“Name it, little brother.”

I’m not your brother.

He doesn’t bother with the protest. Not anymore.

“Turn her,” He says, softly. “And then, um, then then then wall her up in, in the cellar, and and and leave her, to, to starve.”

“A new vampire who doesn’t feed faces the true death anyway, in a month or two,” Malorie points out. When Joanne turns her head away, Malorie grabs her by the hair, forcing her to look back at Tristan with a cry of pain. 

“I don’t care. I, I, I just want her to, um, to suffer.”

He walks away, moving around the little group, and out into the growing new light of the early dawn. His bones already feel weighed down by the promise of sunlight. 

There is a workshop, a rickety wooden shed, in the yard. Tristan moves into it, closing the door to give himself a nearly-total darkness, and burrows down into the dirt, curling into a ball, closing his eyes. His hand grasps, instinctively, at a rosary he can no longer wear. Finding nothing, he finally goes still.

He hears one long wailing scream from his aunt from within the house, and then no more sound at all. 

He wonders how long it will take her to have her first death.

He wonders how long it will take for her to feel her second death, the true death, as she is starved of the blood her body needs to fully become the monster she had Tristan himself made into.

His mother would care.

Tristan doesn’t.

He falls asleep as the sun comes up, at the same time his aunt’s body shuts down bit by bit. Her heartbeat is the last thing to still.

Tristan’s heart stopped beating nearly four years ago.

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@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @pretty-face-breaker @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

#vampire whump #whump #whumptober2021 #no.1 #you have to let go #OC #betrayal #writing #fic #vampire whumpee #whumpee forced to whump #whumpee turned whumper #vampirism #blood drinking #drug use references #addiction tw #immortal whumpee #immortal whumper #forced vampirism #vampire chris au #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jesus joanne #some brief dubcon kissing #implied character death #whumpee takes revenge #revenge whump

[jaskierisbi]

lines and verses from every amazing devil song that hit

King

But our voices collide with each howl of the tide || Singing all hell and its fire waits for us

All that matters || Is that you’re here

Pruning Shears

My entire life it's running away too fast || Watching everyone I've ever loved walk past || Never really quite getting the knack of || Knowing no one will not || Ever come back for you

Shower Day

Would have stayed if you'd had asked || But instead you just walk past

You're the one who told me my hair looked better black || You're the one who told me to never look back || You're the one who asked me if I'm feeling ok || I said I'm fine || It's just a sitting down in the shower day

Leave the room but you get caught in the rain || Know you should love him but it's such a pain || Would have stayed if you'd had asked || But instead you just walk away

Elsa’s Song

I can hear the cannons calling || As though across a dream || And I can smell the smoke of hell || In every stitch and seam || And like flowers, the bodies tumble || Around this muddied lot || I cannot hear them scream || ‘Forget me not.’

Pray

Pray for me, I'll run until I begin to understand || What holy men really mean || When they speak of sin

God made all man in his image || Honey I'm I'm I'm no man || I'm what’s left when children go to war

Run from you, I'll run until I begin to understand || What holy men really mean when they speak of sand and sons and seams and symphonies and sweat and sex and sin

Why you cannot sleep for sighing || Why womanhood is more than crying || I'm stronger now than you have ever known

The cracks you made I fill with mortar || A broken pot can still hold water || Symphonies and sweat and sex mean nothing when you are obsessed || With sin and soil and strength and song and all the words that came out wrong and him

Little Miss Why So

Did you tell them about the time we met little miss || You'll love the way I tell it || And I'll yell it from the rooftops for you || He says

He says || You're going too fast || You'll burn up soon

I don't know how to reach you when you get like this || I've been waiting for you to come home || I don't know how to reach you when you get like this || I've been waiting for you to come home

Why won't you just tell them all to fuck off love and be mine

He says || Why so sad || I'm here and I'm alive || Stop making up death wishes and take my lifeline

Why won't you believe I love you if I'm not hurting you, he says || Can't you see that I'm enough for you but you don't want me to be || 'Cause that means you'll actually have to be content

Why so why so sad || Stop asking why I'm sad just know it's enough to know I'm sad

New York Torch Song

But your blood does not bleed red no more || It's whiter than the sun burns, bright with every hum || From within this gaping wound of ours || A new us has begun. A new us has begun. A new us has begun

Tear me up and burn me up and rip me up and leave your || Hand on the wall as you go

Are you god or devil, ghost dishevelled || Childhood friend or drunken revel

I cannot find the words to keep you || I cannot find the words to keep you

Two Minutes

It's like all the wallpaper inside my heart || Is slowly slowly peeling off || And I'm showing || All the stains and things || They wrote on the wall before

These hands are growing cold ||They're running out of things to hold || Give me two damn minutes and I'll be fine

If I'm good will you come back || If I'm good will you come back || If I'm good will you come back || To us

Not Yet/Love Run

Sing me awake with a song about pirates || And I will try to harmonise || And sip the sunlight from your eyes || Oh sing me awake || With all the things we’ll do today || But instead we’ll build a den || Out of pillows and get drunk again

If my old mum could see me now || Oh how she’d howl she’d howl

Love run, love run || For all the things you’ve done || Run for all the things that drum || Run for all those pages thumbed

Love run, love run || For all the things we wished we’d done || Run from all you know that’s coming || Run to show that love’s worth running to

All that matters || Is that you're here ||All that matters

- - - - - - - - - -

The Rockrose and the Thistle

n/a sorry y’all

The Horror and the Wild

You are that space that’s in between every page, every chord and every screen || You are the driftwood and the rift, you’re the words that I promise I don’t mean

We’re drunk but drinking (sunk but sinking) || They thought us blind (we were just blinking)

Remember me I ask, remember me I sing || Give me back my heart you wingless thing

Think of all the horrors that I || Promised you I’d bring || I promise you, they’ll sing of every || Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child || Witness me, old man, I am the Wild

Wild Blue Yonder

So one last time, love, come and rip my clothes || Get a grip, we're grownups

Come and rip off my socks like you’re blasting the locks off of a bank vault. Halt! || This time we’re done for

Let’s hide under the covers || We don’t know what’s out there || Could be wolves || So hold me, lover, like you used to || So tight I’d bruise you || I’d bruise you, I’d bruise you too

Every stone you threw, I stood on to better see the view

Don't you ever wonder, what could have been? || All those wonders sit in wait for us, we tried

Every brick you hurled, I’ll use to build this world || This world, this world, this world

Welly Boots

And I love you, don’t you know || That I’ll be with you all along, as long as you are kind

And when you scream that it’s not fair || It’s like I’ve gone off to the coast || Left you behind just standing there || Pretending not to see your ghost || If only you could hear my voice || But you are screaming far too loud to hear me swear || Just because I left doesn’t mean that I’m not still there

'Cause you were always strong || When you were young, you’d kick things just to see if they would fall || They said ‘That girl, she’s wrong’ || But I’ll stick up for you, even though you haven’t got a clue, you haven't got a fucking clue

Farewell Wanderlust

He said ‘Hey darling hey, hey darling hey’ || I’m the hardest goodbye that you’ll ever have to say

I promise you I’ll be better || I promise you I’ll try || But like rubbing wine stains into rugs it’s my curse || To try and make it right, but by trying make it worse

I promise you I’m not broken || I promise you there’s more || More to come, more to reach for, more to hurl at the door

Goodbye to all my darkness, there’s nothing here but light || Adieu to all the faceless things that sleep with me at night || This here is not make up, it’s a porcelain tomb || And this here is not singing, I’m just screaming in tune

Fair

It’s what my heart just yearns to say || In ways that can’t be said || It’s what my rotting bones will sing || When the rest of me is dead || It’s what’s engraved upon my heart || In letters deeply worn || Today I somehow understand the reason I was born

She laughs as though she’s not heard the joke ten thousand times before || And he adores her, he watches her get dressed as though she’s hurtling through time

And she brushes her hand through his hair, he’s got so much fucking hair

And he holds her close just to keep the world at bay

"It’s not fair, it’s not fair how much I love you || It’s not fair, 'cause you make me laugh when I’m actually really fucking cross at you for something," || And he’ll say || "Oh how, oh how unreasonable || How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do || I spend my days so close to you 'cause if I’m standing here, maybe everyone will think I’m alright,"

'Cause darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades

And calm throughout his melodrama, she will turn and say || "Dear heart, it’s me, it's me || You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not || 'Cause it’s not like I’ve never heard you fart and snore || And for some godforsaken reason || I’m still here, love, like I’ve always been before,"

Burying her head into his chest and clinging to the moment || "Where have you been?" she’ll whisper || "I’ve waited oh so long for you to come" || And as the stars above them hum and hear them || He’ll turn to her and say, "That’s what she said"

That Unwanted Animal

You try so loud to love me || I cannot seem to hear || ‘Be good to me,’ I whisper || And you say ‘What?’ || And I say ‘Nothing dear’

I’m the paper cut that kills you || I’m the priest that you ignored || I’m the touch you crave, I’m the plans that you made, but fuck all your plans I’m bored

And you rip my ribcage open || And devour what’s truly yours

'Cause if we join our hands in prayer enough || To God I imagine it all starts to sound like applause

Marbles

And I chipped my teeth on every joke you cracked

You stole the best years of my life || I’ll give them back

'Cause I will wait and hope || Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep || But a place for crows to rest their feet || And I will wait and hope || And rest my head at night content || Knowing where my marbles went

She sang, ‘Do you think I’m sexy?’ and oh god I really did

Oh, if one more guy calls me darling then I || Swear to you and to god I will murder them all

All the bastards applaud when I show that I’m flawed || You’re not flawed darling, you’re just a little under-rehearsed

I’ve loved you, for a hundred years || Certainly fucking feels like it

The minute I met you, the colours of my life began to pour

And now, even though you’re mad and these memories won’t stay || That's okay || 'Cause then I get to meet you for the first time every single day

Battle Cries

Tell the truth to me, love, does my hair look as nice || As it did when you once tangled up in your eyes? || Look at me as you say this, don’t look at your phone

‘Cause these plates they smash like waves || And the wine stains hide the tears || But that breathing you hear, don't mistake it for sighs || Don’t you realise? They’re just battle cries, dear

And these lines aren’t wrinkles, dear heart || They’re just dollops of paint on a new work of art

And as I walk away, I know I’ve been through the wars || But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it’s applause

This isn’t a break up, dear heart, it’s a season finale

#the amazing devil #the amazing devil lyrics #joey batey #jaskier #the witcher #not yet/love run #the horror and the wild #wild blue yonder #battle cries #two minutes #pray #marbles #king #pruning shears #shower day #elsa’s song #little miss why so #new york torch song #welly boots #farewell wanderlust #fair #that unwanted animal #mine #lyrics

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Crawl Home to Her

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem BAU Reader 

Warnings: Religion is mentioned, slight mention of supposed homophobia, drug use, death and thoughts of dying, kidnapping (it’s Spencer’s POV of Revelations)

Author’s Note: I was listening to Work Song by Hozier and felt like it fits PERFECTLY for what Spencer was going through when he was kidnapped by Tobias. I took some creative liberties, but much of the plot lines up to the show’s episode. I linked the song if anyone wants to listen to it before they read or after, it’s such a beautiful song. Hozier is in my top three artists; his voice is just so beautiful and soulful. 

Summary: The only thing that’s keeping Spencer alive is the memories of his Heaven. Maybe someone how a faithless man will escape Death’s grasp on faith alone. 

Word Count: around 3.2K

Category: Angst 

Crawl Home to Her

When Spencer comes to the first thing he notices is the smell of burning. The stench permeates the air around him, filling his nostrils. The second thing he notices is breathing. Breathing that is not his own. A man stands before him and it takes him a second to piece it all together. The throbbing in his head takes much of his energy. He can feel the blood drip down the back of his neck and cake onto the collar of his work shirt. Strangely, all he could think about is the time his father told him a respectable man never wore a spoiler shirt. Well dad, look at me now, Spencer thinks grimly. He hates that his father occupies his mind even when he’s about to die. He has much more beautiful things to think about than the man who called him a failure.

“They’re gone,” the shadowy figure tells him. Tobias, Spencer thinks. Tobias is the unsub. 

“Who are they?,” Spencer asks, his voice must sound as cowardly as he feels. He hopes that Tobias didn’t get Y/N. He can’t live with himself if he let his partner, in more ways than one, get hurt. 

“It’s just me know,” Tobias answers, in such a way that it’s almost obvious. 

“Who...Who are you?” Spencer croaks. The lightbulb hanging above his head taunts him. He has the lightbulb, but where’s the ideas? Where are the answers? Where is the light of safety? 

“I’m Raphael,” Tobias says, standing to his full height, towering over a trembling Spencer. 

Raphael... The angel...Spencer’s mind turns but is halted by the horrible smell coming from his side. It invades his mind and nothing seems to make sense. 

“What’s that smell?” he asks.

“They’re burning fish hearts and livers. Keeps away the devil,” Tobias or Raphael answers, Spencer is not too sure who he’s even talking to at this point.

“They say you can see inside men’s minds,” 

“That’s not true, I-I study human behavior-” Spencer reasons, but is cut off by Tobias/Raphael’s passive shushing. 

“I’m not interested in the arguments of men,” Raphael tells him. He turns around to rummage in his pocket for something that Spencer can’t make out in the dim light of the shed. Between the lightbulb blinding him and the stench of the liver burning, Spencer’s senses are overloading themselves. Focus, Spencer, focus, he begs of himself. 

Don’t let him win. Don’t let him win. 

Tobias pulls out a revolver and a bullet. He toys the bullet in Spencer’s face, asking him “Do you know what this is?” 

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe. 

“It’s God’s will,” Tobias says rationally. 

The cocks the gun and aims it towards Spencer’s head. If he pulls the trigger he’d shoot him straight in his head. Staring down death, all Spencer can think about is him suggesting that they split up. He was the one who left Y/N, he’s the one that’s responsible.

“You don’t have to do this,” Spencer tries to reason. 

“I’m just an instrument of God. This is your salvation, this is time to repent for your sins,” Tobias says, pulling a chair to sit next time. It’s strange, Spencer thinks, Tobias is not that much older than he is. This job has forced Spencer to think of the countless paths that he could have gone down. Part of him thinks that could have easily been on the other side, the angry part of him, the broken and sad part of him. 

“Tell me your sins, and may God forgive you,” Tobias says, his voice almost as fearful as Spencer feels. 

Spencer closes his eyes, trying to think of all the things he’s done wrong in his life. All the people he’s hurt or the mistakes that he’s made. But at this moment there’s nothing running through his mind by the thought of Y/N. The way she’d hold him after a case or the way that she’d listen to him with light in her eye’s. It’s nice to have someone who cares, Spencer thinks. Or at least it was. 

“I’m a good man, Tobias, I’m a good man. Like you, we catch the bad guys, Tobias--we are the same. We catch the sinners.” Spencer professes, trying anything to get out of here alive. He’d do anything to get back to Y/N. To get back in her warm embrace. 

“We all have our sins, including you. You just need sometime to sort them out,” Tobias says, and like that he’s gone with the wind. 

***

It’s early morning when Spencer wakes up, the sun bleeds through the cracks of the wood panel door. His clothes are caked in his blood and dirt. His hair is stringy and the blood from his ear clogs his hearing. But he’s alive, he's still here, breathing the same air as Y/N. Somehow that’s enough to keep him hoping that she’d find him- save him. 

The door opens with a sudden slam, Tobias walks in carrying a load of logs. There’s something different about him. Spencer thinks that there’s an air of arrogance, an air of superiority in his walk. 

“What are you staring at, boy?” Tobias- or at least the man who looks like Tobias Hankel asks. 

“You’re not Raphael?” Spencer reasons. 

Tobias throws the pile of logs into the box on the floor of the shed. He stands up to his full height, but there’s something that’s taller about him than last night. There’s something more intimating about the man standing before Spencer. 

“Do I look like Raphael to you?” Tobias asks, the sneer so apparent. 

Spencer decides to ignore that, answering this person, whoever he is, is not in his best interest. 

“Thank you for burning these, for keeping us safe,” Spencer says, trying to get on his good side for his sake, so he can go back to Y/N. 

Y/N. If Spencer can just close off his mind and focus on her, he’d be okay. He’d get through this. If he can just close his eyes he can just feel her touch or taste her lips against his. If her kisses make him a sinner then crucify him. Least he’d die a happy man, with the promise of tomorrow with her endless love. 

“Don’t try to trick me, you’re are filthy liar, you’re a disgusting sinner,” 

God, Spencer thinks, waits until he hears that he’s from Vegas and fell in love with a man. Spencer focuses on breathing, not the itch from being dirty with his own blood or not the thought of impending death. 

“It will be over if you confess, boy. Confess your sins!” Tobias yells. 

“I’m not a sinner,” Spencer says, almost defiantly. There’s a surge of strength in Spencer, and he swears that the small memories of Y/N makes him a stronger person. 

“We are all sinners” 

“The Lord spoke unto Moses saying, ‘speak unto all the congregation of the children of the lord’  and say unto them, ye shall be holy, for I, the lord your god, am holy,” Spencer quotes, the fear somehow seeping back into his voice. 

“You know Leviticus,” Tobias says, almost surprised. Yes, Spencer thinks, even heathens can quote the Bible. 

“I know every word of the Bible, I can quote it for you?” Spencer pleads. 

“Even the Devil can read,” Tobias tells him. 

Spencer’s wound bleeds down his neck, the throbbing almost pounds to the beat of his heart.

“It’s time to confess, Spencer Reid,” Tobias whispers, leaning into Spencer. 

“I’m a good man, Tobias. I finally found someone who puts back the pieces. I found someone who loves me, and I can’t leave her like this. I can’t do that to her.” Spencer confesses. 

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs,” Tobias quotes, and as he does his face seems to drift off. It’s like he's there with Spencer, but not there at the same time.

“First Corinthians, Verse 13,” Spencer recites. 

“Hmm, so your parents did raise a believer,” Tobias reckons. 

More or less, Spencer thinks. He might not believe in God the Almighty, some entity in the clouds watching over him, but he does believe in love and maybe even an afterlife. He has to believe in an afterlife, because if he doesn’t he’d fail to give Y/N forever. 

“Yes,” Spencer says, settling on playing the part of a righteous believer. 

“Yes, my parents read me the Bible. They are good people too,” Spencer tells him. 

Spencer’s not really sure what happens next, but the blow to his head makes the world go black and the sweet memories of Y/N fade into the distance. 

*** 

A cool rag presses against Spencer’s head, where he figures where “Tobias” hit him, or whoever was there with him. 

Dissociative Identity Disorder. DID. DSM-5. 300.14 (F44.81). Tobias has three personalities, Spencer thinks. He remembers the day vidily. Reading about DID with Ethan, they sat on the lawn of the park near school. His memories are distrubed by a very confused looking Tobias, who hold bandages and a wet rag. 

“What’s your name?” Spencer asks, hoping that whoever was there last night is gone. 

“Tobias,” he says, almost meekly. Spencer recognizes something in that, somewhere deep inside him, he recognizes the fear that Tobias wears like a shield. The man here last night must have been his father... 

“Who was here last night?” 

“My father, Charles,” Tobias says. “I’m sorry if he hurt you.” 

Tobias turns to reach in his bag, he brings out a vial of clear liquid, a needle and a long piece of cloth. He ties the long piece of cloth around Spencer’s arm, who with a sudden realization fights to get away from Tobias. 

“NO! Please, NO!” Spencer yells, trying his hardest to fend off the inevitable. 

“It helps, Spencer. I’m trying to save you from him! It’s gonna help, it helped me,” Tobias tells him, continuing to tie the fabric in a tight knot above Spencer’s elbow. 

“Please! I don't want it!” Spencer pleads as the room folds in one him, the darkness is not welcoming, it's suffocating. It’s sucking the life out of him and he can’t escape it’s clutches. 

***

There’s another person in this shed, Spencer thinks. He tries to strain his eyes to make out who it is. It’s not Tobias, the shadow is too short for him. 

Y/N. 

She’s wearing a dress, the blue dress that she wore on their first date. He loves that dress on her. He’s sure he’d love any dress or anything she’d put on to wear for their first date, because well, it’s their first date. 

“Spencer,” her voice is even more comforting than usual. It’s syrupy sweet and he feels like he’d get a toothache just from listening. 

“Sweet Spencer, you need to come home to me, okay? Come home to me baby.” 

He tries to call out to her, but it’s futile. She's a ghost, but she looked so real. Maybe he’s the ghost and his eternal damnation is to haunt her. He’s able to see her, but never able to get close enough to feel the way her hands caress his checks or the way her eyes light up at his touches. 

The spooky beauty of his girlfriend is whisked away with the familiar shoots of two tall, skinny figures. His parents. His father sits there on the table with a sneer on his face. His mother has this faraway look on her face. Spencer’s twelve again, listening to his father yell and slam the bedroom door as he rushes out the door, never looking back. 

The shadowy figures are gone as soon as they came and are nothing but a reminder to Spencer that he’s not worthy of love. He feels guilty. He really does, but the needle going into his vein brings back Y/N and for now he wants nothing more, but to see her, even if it’s not real. 

***

Spencer’s not sure if he craves the clear liquid in the vial because he gets to see Y/N or if he craves to see Y/N because gets to the liquid coursing through his veins, the slightest reminder that he’s alive. 

He’s alone in the shed, but there’s a bright green light blinking. A computer, he wonders. Is this the way from the Ninth Circle of Hell? Is this his way home, his way to Y/N? 

His thoughts of home and of their warm bed are interrupted by who he can only assume is Raphael, enough time has passed for him to be rising to the surface. Part of him misses Tobias, they’d probably would have been friends growing up. Two outcasts raised by a parent who meant well, but did do irreparable harm in the end. 

“It’s time to choose,” Raphael announces. He points to the computer screen, which lights up. Spencer can only assume that his face is being streamed across the internet. Garcia, and probably the entire team are watching this, watching him at his lowest moment. He swore that he’d never show Y/N himself like this, even though he knows that she’ll love him still. 

“Choose a member of your team to die. You are all sinners in the end, but it’s time for you to choose who dies.” Raphael tells him, his voice booming, a stark difference from the nervous murmurs of Tobias. 

“No,” Spencer shouts. “Kill me, kill me instead!” 

“Choose or they all die!” Raphael yells. 

Think, Spencer. Think. He looks around at the shed, trying to think of an out. His eyes latch on to the shovel sitting in the corner of the room. That’s new, he realizes. A cemetery, a grave... 

“I choose Y/N,” Spencer says, not truly believing what he’s saying, but praying that she gets the message. 

“Why?” Raphael asks. 

“She’s prideful and careless,” Spencer reasons, trying his hardest to appear nonchalant. 

“Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before the fall,” Raphael quotes. 

“Yes, John 14:27,” Spencer says. And with that his fate and Y/N is sealed. It’s funny in a twisted way, he always knows that his fate would be forever linked to hers, but not just in this way. 

“Come on, boy. Get up,” Raphael orders him. 

Spencer makes it to his feet and the pair make their way into the night. 

***

Spencer’s not sure how far he’s walked, but his feet are numb and he can’t feel anything in his arm. The inside of his arm is littered with marks, a constant reminder of the cravings he’s feeling. No, he tells himself. What he craves is Y/N. He makes his way up the rocky terrain of the cemetery, hoping that she’s on her way to rescue him, hoping that she’s there to wash away the dirt and kiss his scars. 

Raphael is at his side, pulling him along. It's a strange similarity to Dante and Virgil and their journey to the depths of Hell. Maybe in this scenario Spencer isn’t Dante, maybe he’s Beatrice waiting for his Dante to rescue him. 

“Please, I need rest. I’m exhausted,” Spencer tries to argue, but it’s no use. Raphael’s grip on his arm only tightens. 

“Keep moving,” 

They arrive at the cemetery. Spencer is not ready to die. He’s not ready to die and leave Y/N. He wishes he really did believe in God because maybe, maybe he wouldn’t be as scared as he is right now. 

“Dig,” Raphael tells him, tossing the shovel on the ground at Spencer’s feet. 

As if he’s shaking Death’s hand, Spencer reaches down for the shovel and starts to dig. Each deposit in the mountain of dirt is a cry for help. Each time he cracks his neck in pain or rubs his hands in exhaustion is a goodbye kiss for Y/N. 

Spencer stands to his full height. He’s nearly as tall as Tobias, somehow he still feels like a child. 

He suspects that Tobias feels the same way. Maybe one day Spencer will come to regret his choice. Maybe one day Spencer will be grateful that he reached into the very depths of his strength to fight to the very end. 

“Tell Tobias I’m sorry,” Spencer says, the tears flooding his eyes. 

Spencer bangs the back of the shovel against Tobias’s head. His limp body falls to the ground and suddenly he’s terrified that Tobias is somehow still alive. Spencer scrambles for the gun and pulls the trigger. He’s not even sure how many shots he fires but the body is punctured with bloody holes. Spencer, clutches are Tobias’s lifeless body. As if he can squeeze him back to life. 

He thinks he’s imagining it. He thinks that he’s on the brink of death. There’s a light, a soft yellow light beckoning him home. A voice calls out to him, clear and strong, it’s drawing him in and Spencer is crawling from his own grave to the voice that he could recognize anywhere. He’s teetering between Heaven and Hell. Y/N’s voice and light tether him home. 

“Spencer!” she calls. Finally, he thinks. Finally, she’s close; he lets himself believe he’s safe. 

“I’m here!” he shouts, surprised at the force of his voice. 

“Oh Spencer,” she says, running to him. 

She falls to the ground next to him. Spencer is scared that she’s not real, that it’s the drugs in his system again making him believe that she’s nothing but a cruel figment of his mind. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I knew you’d find me. Please forgive me, I didn’t mean it,” Spencer cries, his face tucked into the crook of her neck. 

“Shhh, baby. I’d find you anywhere. Hmm, let’s get you out of here. You are safe now Spencer,” she tells him softly. 

Spencer may not be a man who believes in God but he has to believe in Heaven, because Heaven is holding him in her arms. 

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader angst #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #mgg

[vivisextion]

I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

#Joey Jordison #Slipknot #Murderdolls

[steverogersbingo]

✨ STEVE ROGER BINGO’S ROUND UP - POST 1 ✨

Check out the fills our participants posted from the first month under the cut!

🎨 ART

heaven isn't in the sky (it's underwater) by agron T // Steve/Tony // Mermaids Summary: when steve went underwater he was discovered by three mermaid tony stark instead

Untitled by ABrighterDarkness G // Steve/Bucky // Alpine Summary: Steve and Bucky get distracted, Alpine enjoys every minute.

Space Stone by AriaFandom G // Gen // Moodboard Summary: Galaxy aesthetic for the space stone

Untitled by sanguineterrain G // Gen Summary: Magical, canon-divergent Steve

Untitled by call-me-kayyyyy G // Steve/Bucky // AU; Fantasy; Loin-cloths Summary: Steve and Bucky are elf's who ride their unicorns to check the perimeter.

Steve Rogers becomes Cernunnos by pinkybitesu T // Gen // AU Summary: Steve had always felt connected to the Earth. Becoming the God of the Forest, Cernunnos, made it all make sense.

"That Is America's Ass." by bleedxblack T // Steve/Bucky Summary: Steve Rogers straddles Bucky's waist with booty shorts that read "it ain't gonna spank himself".

📝 FIC

Clean Up These Bloody Fists by dontcallmebree E // 8,657 // Steve/Bucky // Shrunkyclunks; Mob AU Summary: Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s unendingly generous with his care for those around him, or if Bucky’s simply been lucky enough to scale the wall built up over decades, and had somehow proven himself worthy of the affection. Either way, he knows he’ll never take this for granted. Spend some time with Steve and Bucky this week in the perpetually fluffy ‘verse of Do The Things You Never Showed Nobody.

Scars by Kimberly T // 1,888 // Steve/Bucky // Post-CATWS Summary: The serum means that Steve can't scar anymore, though he's retained his pre-existing scarring. While in the hospital recovering from the fight on the helicarrier, Steve does a little introspection about this. It's bittersweet.

Without Regret by ABrighterDarkness E // 5,284 // Steve/Thor Summary: It had been a very long time since Steve had last felt like this. There was a buzz in his mind and tingling through his body. His movements were just slightly slower, clumsier and his were words spoken a little more loosely with a tongue that felt more weighty than it ought to. Even that, though, felt different than the last time that he’d had the opportunity to overindulge with a friend.

Love and Learning by ABrighterDarkness T // 7,746 // Steve/Natasha Summary: It reminded him, a little bit, of stepping into a machine seeing everything in varying shades of grey. Only to stumble out again into a world of color more vibrant than anything he could have possibly imagined. Overwhelming but entirely breathtaking and welcome.

Good by hawkeyeandthewintersoldier T // 1,062 // Steve/Bucky/Tony Summary: Steve returns to the compound and finds that the two men he loves, but never told his feelings to, are a couple now.

Lie to Me by Kit T // 2,102 // Steve/Bucky // Body Swap Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Steve and Natasha end up trapped in the others body. Instead of telling everybody, they make a bet. Who will be able to conceal their identity the longest?

Dream a Little Dream of Me by buckybleeds E // 5,719 // Steve/Bucky // Dub-con; Self-cest Summary: Steve goes back in time to comfort himself after Bucky fell and ends up having sex with himself. 

Pride by Kit T // 1,726 // Steve/Bucky Summary: Tony wants to take Steve to pride to watch him freak out. Natasha tags along to do damage control.

Take Care of You by hawkeyeandthewintersoldier M // 1,756 // Steve/Bucky // Daddy Kink; Age Difference; AU Summary: Steve has been so busy with his work as a commander at shield lately, that he has barely had time for his partner Bucky. Bucky’s worried his Daddy might not want him anymore and Steve has to rectify this by showing how much he loves his baby.

Love Has Left a Printed Trace by Girl_Back_There E // 1,726 // Steve/Bucky // Vampires; Dub-con Summary: Steve is obsessed with finding a mysterious figure named Winter in paintings throughout the years. James is a Vampire named Winter charged with keeping Vampires a secret from humanity.

with the weight of the world at the tips of my fingers by avintagekiss24 E // 4,420 // Steve/Reader // AU Summary: You and Steve share a morning in bed.

Always You by hawkeyeandthewintersoldier M // 1,691 // Steve/Bucky // AU Summary: After a year of traveling, Steve finally comes home and confesses his feelings to Bucky.

Stop the World by Rex E // 6,828 // Steve/Scott // AU Summary: When Steve got hired to entertain at Cassie Lang's thirteenth birthday party, he had thought it was going to be like every other kid's party he'd booked. He'd show up, play Captain America, get paid, and go home. He never quite gets to that last step, but to be fair, there was no way he could have anticipated the draw of Scott Lang.

Always by Rex G // 437 // Steve/Matt Murdock // Canon Divergence Summary: Even the Devil of Hell's Kitchen needs an angel from time to time. This one just happens to be from Brooklyn.

Glass by Rex M // 859 // Gen // Non-graphic torture; Implied non-con; Referenced suicide Summary: "We'll lose." "Then we'll do that together, too." Sokovia crashed, Ultron won, and he always had hated Tony the most.

We are already home by Bitters E // 4,948 // Steve/Bucky Summary: Steve carries an injured Bucky through a portal into…somewhere else? But they’re together, like they always have been, and that’s all that matters.

end of the line, time to go home. by moonythejedi394 M // 3,484 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence; Daddy Kink; Age Play/Regression Summary: Steve and Bucky always said they were together 'til the end of the line. But even they have to get off the train eventually. Everybody always figures, at the end of the line is... Y'know. The End. But actually, at the end of the line is happily ever after. It just took them a few decades and a couple suitcases of trauma to get there.

Not Technically A Bromance by dontcallmebree M // 8,657 // Steve/Bucky Summary: “A bromance?” Bruce asks, voice tinged with restrained laughter. “Yeah, we have one of those.” Steve glowers at Bruce, who’s patently laughing at him, eyes bright and twinkling with mirth. Bruce composes himself, biting at his bottom lip. “And you’ve had sex how many times?” (Inspired by that tweet, you know the one.)

At the Top of My Lungs by ralsbecket T // 1,646 // Steve/Tony Summary: Two months had passed since Tony had lost his life; since they had laid him to rest six feet under. It was two months of trying to keep his world from further falling apart, and it wasn’t really working in his favor. So, no. No, he wasn’t okay.

Thor’s Art Class for the Heroes of Midgard by WinterSabbath T // 6,338 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence Summary: In which Thor makes it his mission to help mend the broken, cold relationship between Steven and James through the only way he can think of: Art class. As a bonus, he also helps the team loosen up.

So Let It Happen by Bitters E // 2,287 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence Summary: Steve comes home from a tough mission and needs to get out of his head. His husband and retired Avenger is only too happy to help him with this.

Made of Glass (The Way You See Through Me) by ralsbecket T // 1,132 // Steve/Tony // AU Summary: Steve wasn’t sure what came over him when the model walked out from the back room, wearing a robe; from the moment his eyes landed on his face, he was just… awestruck. Dark hair, bright eyes, full lips. He was fucking beautiful. Or, the one where Tony is the model in Steve's life-drawing class.

for your cooperation by xceru E // 3,145 // Steve/Nat // Canon Divergence Summary: Hydra kidnaps Natasha on a routine mission in Cairo. When Steve finds her, Natasha decides that it's his turn to play prisoner.

my heart in the still winter air by xceru E // 11,887 // Steve/Bucky/Nat // Canon Divergence Summary: “He will,” Steve says, and suddenly Natasha understands. This is the man that Steve altered his heart for, the one he thought only the serum could love. But now Steve knows better—he knows he’s bisexual—he knows his love is real, and the man that it belongs to is undead.

Won't Let Go by afalsebravado E // 2,358 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence Summary: Steve is on the hunt for the Winter Sold-- Bucky. He's on the hunt for Bucky when the leads dry up and he heads home to regroup. But a package from Tony Stark arrives on his doorstep and makes him re-evaluate old promises.

The Truth of Who I Am by hawkeyeandthewintersoldier T // 1,203 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence Summary: Steve Rogers is not a cis straight man and he is tired of people erasing that and other parts of his identity so he fits into the image they already had of him.

Bruise of a Rose by marvelousmoons G // 1,710 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence Summary: It’s moments like this that get under his skin the most. The way Steve can just… be Steve. Be dramatic and give Bucky the cold shoulder for simply caring. But Bucky was stronger. He could play Steve’s game. He wouldn’t cave, no. He would sit and wait for the silence to overwhelm Steve first.

... And all I got was this lousy t-shirt by RainbowNerds M // 3,126 // Steve/Bucky // AU Summary: A month ago, Steve had the best sex of his life with a guy he met in a bar, and went home with the most hideous shirt he'd ever seen but no phone number. Enter his new roommate, Becca. The two instances are not connected, right?

Love you too, jerk by WinterRaven G // 636 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence; Fanart included Summary: Steve makes breakfast for Bucky and their 'kids' help him wake up his husband.

#steve rogers bingo 2021 #2021 round up

[t4twolfstar]

Pearl Jam songs as the marauders' story

listen here

explanations under read more

Red Mosquito - Remus is bit by Greyback

two steps ahead of him, punctures in your neck…/ Hoverin' just above your bed... (2x)/ I was bitten...must have been the devil…/ He was just paying me…/ A little visit, reminding me of his presence…

Jeremy - most of the song, Sirius

Okay so we’re going to look at the verses not the refrain for this one bc (TW su*) this song is based on an actual boy who diy died in front of his class so like no we’re not relating to that part but the “Clearly I remember/ Pickin’ on the boy/ Seemed a harmless little fuck/ But we unleashed the lion….Daddy didn't give affection, no/And the boy was something that mommy wouldn't wear”

Daughter - Sirius at home

Trans sirius in an abusive household………. “Mother reads aloud, child tries to understand it/Tries to make her proud/ The shades go down, it's in her head/ Painted room, can't deny that something's wrong/ Don’t call me daughter, not fit to”

Leash - Sirius and Remus’ toxic codependent love and then yelling at the establishment/people who say they’re too young going too deep too hard too fast

“Troubled souls unite/ We got ourselves tonight, oh/ I am fuel you are friends we got the means to make amends/ I am lost I'm no guide but I'm by your side/ I am right by your side….We will find a way we will find our place/ Drop the leash drop the leash/Get outta' my fuckin' face”

Why Go? - Sirius becoming disenchanted w his family

Trans Sirius too of course. She seems to be stronger/ But what they want/ Her to be is weak/ She could play pretend/ She could join the game, boy/ She could be another clone….don’t come visit/mother/ why go home?

Blood - Sirius’ family trying to make him into something he’s not

Spin me round/ Roll me over/ Fucking circus/ Stab it down/ One way needle/ Pulled so slowly/ Drains and spills/ Soaks the pages/ Fills their sponges/ It’s my blood/ It’s my blood

WMA - basically about all the big pureblood families that can get away w anything

“He won the lottery when he was born/ Took his mothers white breast to his tongue/ Do no wrong so clean cut/ Dirty his hands, it comes right off” (tw for song: police, implied police violence)

Do the Evolution - Sirius ranting abt/mocking his family

Admire me, admire my home/ Admire my son, he's my clone…./ I'll do what I want but irresponsibly/ It’s evolution, baby/ I’m a thief, I'm a liar/ There’s my church, I sing in the choir:/ (Hallelujah, hallelujah)

Bushleaguer - abt the aristocracy etc

This song is literally about George bush lmao but I love it abt the upper class

“Born on third, thinks he got a triple…./The aristocrat choir sings, "what's the ruckus?”/ The haves have not a clue/ The immenseness of suffering”

Mind your manners - You guessed it - Sirius rejecting his family

I've got an unfortunate feelin’/ I've been beaten down/I feel I don't believe/ And now the truth is coming out/ What they've taken is more than a vow/ They’ve taken your innocence/ And then they throw them on a burning fire/ All along they're sayin’/ Mind your manners

My father’s son - SIRIUS

I am my father's son,/ Yeah, too bad he was a psychopath and now I'm the next in line, , dear mother, yes, surely she's a work of art,…/Can I get a reprieve?/ This gene pool dark and deep…./Now father you're dead and gone and I'm finally free to be me,/ Thanks for all your dark gifts for which I've got no sympathy,/ I’m living in a walled-up place in the bounds of 5th symphony

Yellow Ledbetter - Sirius

Okay so 97% of the the lyrics are indecipherable when Eddie sings them but you can hear I don’t wanna stay

Go - Regulus to Sirius as he’s trying to leave

(Abuse tw) So sorry about this one yall …… .but yes I think this is regulus finally realizing that he shouldn’t have let things get so bad at home (Sirius blames him for not stepping in even tho he’s a child there’s nuance here etc) and he’s begging Sirius not to leave him here “Oh please don't go out on me don't go out on me now/ Never acted up before don't go on me now/ I swear I never took it for granted just thought of it now/ Suppose I abused you just passing it on….I pulled the covers over him shoulda' pulled the alarm/ Turned to my nemesis…Please don't go on me/ Don’t go on me/ Don’t go on me/ Don’t go on me/ please”

Rearviewmirror - Sirius running away

(Tw abuse) Time to emancipate/ I guess it was the beatings made me wise….Forced to endure/ What I could not forgive/ I seem to look away/ Wounds in the mirror waved/ It wasn't my surface most defiled

Can’t Keep - Sirius running away from home

I want to shake/ I want to wind out/ I want to leave/ This mind and shout/ I’ve lived/ All this life/ Like an ocean/ In disguise/ I don't live for ever/ You can't keep/ Me here

Hail, Hail - Remus and Sirius’ codependent strong love

A how I love you till the day I die...ah and beyond…/ are we going to the same place? If so, can I come?/ It’s egg rollin' thick and heavy...all the past we carry…

Release - Remus thinking about his dad

Remus’ dad is so full of guilt for his hand in remus’ transformations that he extracted himself from remus’ life. Remus laments here, “Oh, dear dad/ Can you see me now?/ I am myself/ Like you somehow” “I'll hold the pain/Release me” he’d would rather have a dad, guilt and all, here, than the self appointed absence but since you left me with the absence and grief and loss of it, at least release me from it, loosen your grip so I can move on.

Present Tense - Sirius and Remus talking probably laying in the forbidden forest assuaging one another’s beliefs of the gnarled beasts they think they are

BUGS - prob remus when he turns before the boys know

Bugs on my ceiling/ Crowded the floor/ Standing sitting kneeling…/ A few block the door/ And now the question’s:/ Do I kill them?/ Become their friend?/ Do I eat them?/ Do I join them?/ I’ll just stop now/ I’ll become naked/ And with the...I'll become one

Who you are - probably James at remus when he thinks he’s a big monster

Who are we?/ Who we are./ What’s your part? Who you are / You are who you are.

Save you - GOD THIS SONGG okay this is probably James @ Sirius when home life is bad and also Sirius @ Remus and also Remus @ Sirius it’s all of them @ all of them

Gonna save you fucker, not gonna lose you/ Feeling cocky and strong, can't let you go,/ Too important to me/ Too important to us, we'd be lost without you/ Baby, let yourself fall, I'm right below you now/ And fuck me if I say something you don't want to hear/ And fuck if you only hear what you want to hear/ Fuck me if I care, but I'm not leaving here/ You helped me when I was down, I'll help when you're down/ Why are you hitting yourself, c'mon hit me instead

Life Wasted - Sirius @ Reg re: leaving

I escaped it, a life wasted./ I’m never going back again…./ You're always saying you're too weak to be Strong./ You’re harder on yourself than just about Anyone/ Why swim the channel just to get this far?/ Halfway there, why would you turn around?

Severed Hand - Reg joins the death eaters

Big man stands behind an open door/ Said, leave your lady on the cement floor./ Got some kicks, want to take a ride?/ I said, yeah!/ Oh please understand I just need, my friend,/ A way a way a way home

Brain of J. - Reg and Sirius arguing after he joins the death eaters

The whole world will be different soon/ The whole world will be relieving/ You, you've been taught/ We’d been the same, now they got you in line/ Stand behind the stripes/ There will be order, so give it a good mind…./And by name/ The name they gave me/ The name I'm letting go

Deep - Regulus knows he’s in too deep

This is Regulus knowing he’s in too deep, Voldemort and the death eaters are such bad fucking people and he’s in too deep now (massive tw for this song for drugs and se*ual violence)

“Ponders his Maker, ponders his will/ in too deep/ can’t touch the bottom”

Pilate - Remus abt Sirius ;0)

Like Pilate I have a dog/ (Obeys listens kisses loves)/ Walks me out of town/ Still one's a crowd/ Making angels in the dirt/ Looking up looking all around

You Are - in love 🥰

Love is a tower/ Of strength to me/ I am the shoreline/ But you're the sea

Red Bar - the war begins

War, I’m crazy/ War I’m crazy I’m war the song is also a lil goofy so it’s maybe just like going crazy being so in it that it’s funny now

Porch - WARTIME EVERYONE @ THEIR LOVERS

It’s the war and everyone knows today could be their last day and tensions are running high in relationships and they love each other so much and need each other but snap at one another nonetheless

What the fuck is this world running to?/ You didn't leave a message/ At least I could have learned your voice one last time/ Daily minefield, this could be my time by you/ Would you hit me? Would you hit me?/ Hear my name, take a good look/ This could be the day/ Hold my hand, walk beside me

Thin Air - babes in love

There's a light, when my baby's in my arms,/ There’s a light, when the window shades are drawn…/ And I know she's reached my heart, in thin air.

All or None - More war time songs soz

Here's the selfless confession/ Leading me back to war/ Can we help that our destinations/ Are the ones we've been before?/ I still try to run on/ But it's all or none

Parting Ways - Lily @ James during the war

She knows their future's burning/ But she can smile just the same, same/ And though her mood is fine today/ There’s a fear they'll soon be parting ways

Love Boat Caption - Sirius/Remus, Lily/James, etc etc. during the war

Love boat captain/ Take the reigns and steer us towards the clear, here/ It’s already been sung, but it can't be said enough/ All you need is loveIt's an art to live with pain/ Mix the light into grey/ Lost nine friends we'll never know/ Two years ago today/ And if our lives became too long/ Would it add to our regret?…./Hold me and make it the truthThat when all is lost, there will be you

Evacuation - going into hiding

Lukin- Lily and James have to go into hiding

(Tw st*lking mention in explanation, gun mention in song) The song was written by Eddie when he was being stalked and he had to bring himself and his wife to a friend’s house for safety.

In Hiding - Lily and James are in hiding and enter Peter

No way in or out/ I turned and walked the hallways/ And pulled the curtains down…./I swallow the truth to keep from lying/ i'm no longer overwhelmed and it seems so simple now/ Yeah, it's funny how things change so much/ It’s all state of mind

Once - Peter Pettigrew betraying the marauders

Literally about someone committing a mass murder. “Once upon a time I could control myself.” “Mimic whats insane.”

Around the Bend - I'm so sorry ummm but Lily to Harry on Halloween 💀

I am wishing you a well…./ I hold your head deep in my arms/ My fingertips, they close your eyes/ Off you dream, my little child/ There’s a sun around the bend/ Please forgive me, won't you, dear?/ Please forgive and let me share with you, around the bend/ You’re an angel when you sleep/ How I want your soul to keep, on and on around the bend

Garden - Sirius being taken to Azkaban

He’s just taking his fate as it comes to him.

The direction of the eye/ So misleading/ The defection of the soul/ Nauseously quick/I will walk, with my hands bound/ I will walk, with my face blood/ I will walk, with my shadow flag/ Into your garden/ Garden of stone

Even flow - IS SO VERY MUCH SIRIUS IN AZKABAN

sung from the pov of an incarcerated person waiting for life to begin again

BUGS - Sirius in Azkaban (yes I already said this abt remus but idc)

Bugs on my ceiling/ Crowded the floor/ Standing sitting kneeling…/ A few block the door/ And now the question’s:/ Do I kill them?/ Become their friend?/ Do I eat them?/ Do I join them?/ I’ll just stop now/ I’ll become naked/ And with the...I'll become one

Black - Remus lamenting about Sirius’ perceived deception

Remembering their love and how now so many of his memories are tainted (by) black and that all of this has changed him fundamentally (star imagery, “black”, “tattooed everything”)

Indifference - Sirius in grimmauld place, sirius in Azkaban

Sirius taking his home life in stride until he can leave, taking Azkaban in stride bc it doesn’t matter any way bc he believes he deserve it anyway

“Pretend I'm free to roam/ I will make my way/ Through one more day in hell/ How much difference does it make?/ How much difference does it make?/ I will hold the candle/ Till it burns up my arm/ Oh, I'll keep takin' punches/ Until their will grows tired/ Oh, I will stare the sun down/ Until my eyes go blind/ Hey, I won't change direction/ And I won't change my mind/ How much difference does it make?/ How much difference does it make?/ I’ll swallow poison, until I grow immune/ I will scream my lungs out till it fills this room”

Alive - Remus post ’81

Eddie originally wrote the song as a lament - why did I live when he didn’t? Why am I still alive?

“Is something wrong she said, of course there is, you’re still alive she said, but do I deserve to be?”

Animal - Remus after ’81 when he needs to transform alone

Feat. A throwback to being turned (so tw: abd*ction) “Torture from you to me, yeah/Abducted from the street/I'd rather be with an animal”

Nothingman - Sirius and Remus after ’81

Once divided nothing left to subtract/ Some words when spoken can't be taken back/ Walks on his own with thoughts he can't help thinking/ Future’s above but in the past he's slow and sinking…./ She once believed in every story he had to tell/ One day she stiffened took the other side/ Empty stares from each corner of a shared prison cell/ One just escapes one's left inside the well

Smile - Remus @ the marauders (except it’s after ’81 and he just thinks of them fondly)

Don't it make you smile?/ I miss you already/ I miss you always/ I miss you already/ I miss you all day/ This is how I feel/ Three crooked hearts swirls all around/ Don’t it make you smile?

In my tree - remus abt sirius after ’81

I remember him, yeah…/ I swore I knew everything, oh yeah…/ They say knowledge is a dream, yeah…/ He's growing up just like me, yeah…

Light Years - Remus abt Sirius

But now you're gone, I haven't figured out why/ I’ve come up with riddles and jokes about war/ I’ve figured out numbers and what they're for/ I’ve understood feelings and I've understood words/ But how could you be taken away?/ Back pages and days alone that could have been spent/ Together, but we were miles apart Every inch between us becomes light years now

I’m open - Remus!!!! Post ’81

After spending half his life searching he still felt as blank/ As the ceiling at which he stared/ He is alive but feels absolutely nothing/ So is he?/ When he was six he believed that the moon overhead followed him/…..So this is what it's like to be an adult/ If he only knew now what he knew then

Thumbing my Way - Remus post ’81 again blah blah ikik

I can't be free with what's locked inside of me/ If there was a key you took it in your hand/ There’s no wrong or right but I'm sure there's good and bad/ The questions linger overhead

Rats - we know how remus like to soliloquize …. This is him waxing poetic about how fucking horrible Peter is

The song itself is kind of listing the many ills of humankind saying how rats don’t compare to people bc they don’t do all this. But Peter isnt really a rat. He’s a man and oppresses like a man and betrays like a man and takes like a man.

“Drink the blood of their so-called best friend….They don't scurry when something bigger comes their way….Don't take what's not theirs“

Oceans - Sirius escaping Azkaban

Hold on to the thread/ The currents will shift, glide me towards/ You know something's left/ And we're all allowed to dream of the next…..The sea will rise/ Please stand by the shore/ I will be there once more

Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town - Sirius after Azkaban

200004309248% sirius returning from 12 years isolated. He doesn’t really recognize most things. Remus wouldn’t recognize him. He’s different. Changed by being unchanged. He couldn’t grow and learn and morph and become. He stagnated yet decayed. But he’s back and he recognizes your skin and your breath. He’s back.

Off He Goes - Sirius is a Sagittarius in the first half, second half is post PoA

Know a man his face seemed pulled and tense/ Like he's riding on a motorbike in the strongest winds/ So I approach with tact/ Suggest that he should relax/ But he's always movin' much too fast/ Said he'll see me on the flip side/ On this trip he's taken for a ride…./ And now I rub my eyes for he has returned/ Seems my preconceptions are what should have been burned/ For he still smiles and he's still strong/ Nothing’s changed, but the surrounding bullshit, that has grown/ And now he's home, and we're laughing, like we always did/ My same old, same old friend/ Until a quarter-to-ten

All Those Yesterdays - and cue the bath scene, remus washes his lost love

Don't you think you oughta rest?/ Don’t you think you oughta lay you head down?/ You don't think there's time to stop/ There’s time enough for you to lay your head down tonight tonight/ Let it wash away/ All those yesterdays

#literally put me down #unless you like it #then kiss me #some of these are big brain and i do want yall to read it at least but i also know I'm like a feral dog rn so it's ok #text post #long post #read more #playlist #pearl jam #marauders #harry potter #hp hc #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #lily evans

[callme-chaos]

Tommy SMP (DSMP)

H-hello? How did you get in here? Tommy doesn’t usually let randoms in. Uhhhhh lemme just consult the list real quick. What’s your name?

Huh. Doesn’t sound familiar. Buuuuuuut there you are. On the list. What’s your purpose here then, pal?

A tour? Well, the person who usually does the tours is out in the moment… But I guess I could show you around. If you would like to follow me – yeah just ignore the holes and stuff. They’re just remnants of a couple of wars we’ve had.

What kind of wars? Bro, where have you been?

Not from around here? Evidently. Well, first there was the Disk Wars. You see, Dream had these cool disks but Tommy really wanted them, you know? And this is /Tommy SMP/ and not /Dream SMP/ after all so there was all that. Then there was this Quackity kid who tried to start a nation and Tommy didn’t really like the look of that. And so Tommy and this Ranboo guy decided to blow it all up – I don’t remember the details. You see, I’ve been away… uhhhh… travelling so I don’t really see too much of what goes on here. That and I seem to be forgetting a lot of things… I really should fix that-

Huh? You’re confused. Buddy – I haven’t even told you about the Egg yet!

Yeah! An Egg! I can show you it right now actually. Just follow me.

The vines? Yeah! They’re a nice shade of blue but they’re a real pain to cut down, you know? They just seem to grow back stronger. Now, just pop down this hole here – yeah just straight down.

Oh! Ah. I really should have warned you about the fall damage, huh? I’m sure we can pop into George’s bakery later and fix you up. Providing George is in his bakery… He stopped baking a while back.

Why? I don’t actually know. I’m not really too involved in the politics around here (travelling and all that) buuuuut I heard a rumour that him, Ranboo, Charlie Slimecicle and Technoblade have started like a secret club. Not sure exactly what they do but if Ranboo is involved it can’t be good. Anyways! Here’s the Egg. Don’t step too close though – I’ve heard it has some serious manipulative powers. Niki’s best friend Foolish got transformed by it the other day. She was quite upset. I think she runs a cult in the Egg’s honour with Ponk or something now. She’s nice but pretty scary when she wants to be, I’ll tell you that much.

The Egg is giving you weird vibes? Yeah. You and me both. The blue is giving me shivers actually. Shall we continue our tour elsewhere?

Next? Hmmmmm. I know! I’ll take you to Hannah’s castle and museum. They’re a great tourist spot! Follow me.

Yes we have a museum! History has been made here on the SMP, I’ll have you know. This SMP was founded by the Tommy Team made up of the hot-headed, dashingly attractive Fundy; the greatly popular, widely enjoyed Bad Boy Halo; and, of course, the 1000IQ man himself, TommyInnit. Though, Tommy… hasn’t been about much… lately… not since… you know…

Well, if you don’t know I hardly have the time to explain now! (I’ll maybe show you later if we have time…) Anyways! Here we are: Hannah’s museum. This miserable little dark room here is a recreation of L’Manberg’s Final Control Room. Back in the first L’Manberg verses Greater Tommy SMP war, L’Manberg’s founding fathers (Schlatt, Sapnap, President Quackity and Vice President Dream) were all betrayed by a member of their own battalion: Hannah-Rose. They were dark times, kid.

You want to know more about President Quackity and his right hand man Dream? Well, they were incredibly close – practically brothers. They both went through a lot together. Until Quackity finally blew up L’Manberg and was subsequently killed by his own father, Charlie Slimecicle.

I didn’t say they were dark times for nothing, you know? Dream took it harder than anyone. And Tommy took the opportunity to traumatise and manipulate the fella further. Tommy even managed to convince Dream’s best friend, Schlatt, that he was the root of all problems on the SMP.

We couldn’t believe it either. Dream did have one friend, Ranboo, for a while. But they ultimately disagreed on their ideas of justice and went their separate ways.

Sad times, indeed, kid. Anyways, where to next… Oh! Hello, Eret! How are you doing?

Ah. He’s busy. Off being cracked at bed wars I suspect.

What’s the big black building over there?

Uhhhhhhhh… Have you seen HBomb’s hotel? It’s great this time of year! Just this way, matey. Technically it belongs Dream but HBomb briefly took it over. There was some kind of dispute between the two guys – nobody here really takes HBomb that seriously. (Personally, I blame the ancient skin he still wears. Kid really needs an update, you know?)

That? Oh, I suppose you can still see some of the remnants. That used to be Punz’s UFO. Someone blew it up but I’m not entirely sure who…

How do I know it was blown up? Look, I’m just taking Quackity’s word for it.

He did die but then he was recently brought back to life. He spends most of his time with Dream outside Las Nevadas.

Las Nevadas is basically the Tommy SMP version of Las Vegas. It’s pretty cool actually – wanna check it out?

Cool! We’re actually heading in the right direction for that anyways. So, where are you from?

Yeah, I gathered you weren’t from around here but where are you actually from?

…Not gonna tell me? Fine. So be it. You sure are a mystery, huh?

I’m not flirting! I just- I… Ah! Look at that! We’re already here! It’s pretty dramatic, right?

You should see it at night. Everything lights up and it is magnificent.

It belongs to Wilbur. He’s the head honcho around here. He’s here alongside Puffy and Phil. Oh! Speak of the devil, if you squint a little bit you can see Phil down there now, bouncing around. He’s a cutie really – though his puns do get tiresome.

What do you mean “you don’t get tired of puns”?

…Are you human?

…What a terrifying answer. Okay! Moving on!

I’m aware that it’s one of the ugliest structures in existence – but you can’t blame Wilbur and Las Nevadas for /that/ abomination. That’s what Quackity and Dream installed last time they were here together.

I know it’s phallic but you don’t have to say that out loud! Come on, man, have a little class.

That up there? That’s Schlatt and Techno’s “cookie castle” as I like to call it. When Dream was exiled, Schlatt met Techno and they started getting really close. They’re everybody’s favourite couple now. I think it’s a friendship that will last a long time, you know? They seem to have a lot in common.

Like what? Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh They’re both American?

Look, if you know, you know.

Alright! Next – shall we have a change of scenery? Las Nevadas can get quite… heated, so perhaps we can give the snowy biome a visit, yeah? Now, when we get there it’s important to tread carefully: the forest is enchanted, practically everything there will eat you and, worst of all… Ranboo lives out there.

Ranboo? He’s a terrifying force of nature. I heard he slayed an entire army all by himself, owns a pet polar bear and he helped Tommy take down the entirety of L’Manberg. Ranboo and Tommy – they’re one formidable duo.

No no! There’s no need to be afraid! Apparently Ranboo’s arsonist days are over and he has his carer Charlie Slimecicle watching over him so he’s been relatively quiet recently. I like to think their neighbour Technoblade has been a good influence on them both.

Technoblade is a gentle soul. Poor kid just wants to make everyone happy, you know? I wish everyone was more like Technoblade sometimes – the world would be such a different place…

Nah, nobody can really sleep soundly – not when Antfrost and Purpled are still out there. The Eggpire and Las Nevadas never really rest when it comes to their members. Oh! But by far the worst person to come across – the real reason I haven’t slept in weeks on this server – is… Oh. Oh dear. I think I’ve summoned him. Walk this way – quickly! – and don’t make eye contact…

NO JACK I HAVE NO DESIRE TO WITNESS THE JACK MANIFOLD “GRIND” NOW PLEASE TAKE YOUR FILTH AND YOUR CAT-MAID OUTFIT AND GO BOTHER SAPNAP OR SKEPPY INSTEAD!

…Alright, no need to look at Jack like that.

Jack Manifold in a cat-maid- no. Don’t make me lock you up in Pandora’s Vault along with- uhhhhhh.

Forget I said that. Speaking of Skeppy, he built Schlatt and Techno a beautiful mansion around here somewhere-!

He also built an extraordinary diamond sculpture a while ago-

Please no.

…I guess you leave me no choice then, huh? I guess, I can show you the prison – but we have to be really, really careful, okay?

Who’s inside? Well…

I didn’t forget! It just… Tommy. Tommy is in the prison right now.

Well, of course I didn’t want to tell you! It doesn’t really look good on the server when the person its named after is locked up for life for doing unspeakable things.

No! I’m not gonna tell you what unspeakable things he did – it wouldn’t make them unspeakable then, would it?

…I don’t believe anyone else is in there, no. Why?

Ranboo? Nahhhhhh! Ha ha! What do you know, you silly goose! Well, before we go into the prison, we’ll have to get Puffy’s permission. She’s really strict about who she lets in and out of the prison and takes her role as prison warden very, very seriously. No one has ever died or been injured or brought back to life or wrongly imprisoned while the prison has been in her care.

What do you mean – “not convincing”? If you don’t trust my word, then that’s a /you/ problem.

…The prison is this way. Now, when we get in let me do all the talking… You know what? Perhaps you should stay outside. I’ll go in, talk to Puffy and try to get permission to go in – but I make no promises, understand?

…Alright, wait here.

…

…

…

Puffy said no.

No, it was a pretty definitive no actually. Wh-where are you going?

You can’t! Puffy hasn’t given you permission!

There’s nobody in there /to/ save. Tommy deserves to be in there-

There is nobody else in the prison!

You’re insane.

No, I won’t let you.

…

…I don’t think so, matey. Feel that sharp object between your shoulder blades?

I figured you did. That’s my sword. I am not afraid to push it through your chest if it means keeping you out of that prison. Understood? Now, step away from the prison.

Thank you.

…I think that concludes our tour. Perhaps it’s best you- oh! Karl is here! Karl Jacobs! Over here!

Yeah. He doesn’t talk ever but he’s still a great guy, you know?

Oi. Wave back. It would be rude not to wave back.

My name? Oh my goodness! I totally forgot to introduce myself! (Though, you never really asked until now anyways…)

It’s okay! I know I talk a lot – it can be difficult to get me to shut up sometimes – ha ha!

My name is Callahan.

#tommy smp #dream smp #tommyinnit #dream #callahan #tour #dumb #this was dumb #but still a lot fun #my name is callahan

[noocturnalchild]

SEALED IN MARBLE  Chapter V A little Devil and an Invitation

“Then the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, -“

You recited the bible, blowing a slow breath on the white crevice you shaped on the curve of a marbled nostril, while looking at him, playful.

“…and the man became a living creature.” He completed, refined priest, always ready to reply with verses.

You had established a fragile familiarity throughout the last few sessions with “Vicente”. Slowly exploring each other’s character, both moths drawn to the flame of your attraction to each other but too cautious to burn your fragile wings if you let it consume you.

You gave him an admirative look, that faded slowly to suspicious as he averted his eyes again.

“You seem to know your bible, sir” you laughed.

“Pious man, I see” you added when your model didn’t reply, a frown gracing his beautiful brows, it was maddening. The sight in front of you was maddening, his muscular, graceful shape sitting on a rock, white linen cloth loosely thrown on his manhood, barely covering his thighs as light danced on his skin, seemed to kiss his flesh warmly.

“You seem equally  knowledgeable –“

You puffed a mocking laugh, that earned you a deeper frown.

“I have my special reasons…“ you simply said, careful not to give away too much too soon.

“Would you enlighten an ignorant man?” Francisco was outdoing himself, he who had never had a private conversation with a lady before, let alone with a young beautiful one, that seemed to not waste a chance of displaying a plump cleavage for his eyes, more and more emboldened, despite his miserable self.

You stilled, brought your pointed chisel to your lip, faking thought.

“Who was Adam to you, my dear Vicente? I’m always interested in knowing my models’ point of view” you lied.

Francisco blushed, trying to focus. He didn’t have to think too much, as his idea was already shaped, solid as stone.

“The first man, father of all men, and… the first sinner” He added, the weight of his faults hidden under his detached tone.

“hum” you smiled.

“Adam was a thinker, the first thinker.”  You resumed your work, carefully curling the point of your tool in the insides of the marble crevice.

Francisco was silent for a moment as he assessed your reply. He definitely knew that he was in the presence of an unconventional woman, but now he was starting to believe that that woman was also… a skeptical?

“Would you, please, …give me more insight…?” he narrowed his eyes, and shifted in his position, investigating, forgetting his purpose.

“Gladly” you smiled brightly, cleaning your hands on your work dress, making it slide higher up your legs, and Francisco’s eyes fell instantly on the newly exposed flesh, and he suppressed a gulp.

Now that you shared your secret with him, you went through your sessions lighthearted and unveiled.

You couldn’t wear all the silk and lace and satin you wanted him to see, but you made sure to be garbed in your work dress, the one you wore when alone in your atelier, a light one, leaving the first buttons of your corset open, revealing the fresh swell of your breasts. You did your hair so that it cascaded sensually on your shoulders, rebel strands caressing your face. You didn’t forget to wear perfume, a hint too much? Maybe, you shrugged when you saw your reflection in the mirror, a radiant smile gracing your lips this time.

“Do you think Adam ate the apple without doing a little bit of thinking? Just because Eve tempted him, used her charms on him?” –you rolled your eyes at the thought— “Or maybe he wanted company just because he woke up one day and felt lonely?” You spoke low, in a tone of confidence, and you noticed with delight how Francisco’s ears heated.

Francisco’s heart looped in his stomach. The woman was blasphemous. How dare she? How dare she question the bible’s telling? How dare she, above all, be so confident and poised about it? Anger heated in his blood for a moment, as his jaw worked a pointed answer, but he then softened. Was it sadness that invaded him suddenly? Or was it compassion? Francisco felt something warmer, maybe weaker than sadness and stronger than compassion, stronger than his anger with you, was it longing? A feeling between wanting and not wanting? He schooled his face, judged better not to dwell on it.

Silence lingered.

“Why did you let me?” He questioned at last, betraying his train of thoughts, nonetheless.

“Let you?” You didn’t expect this question. It took you aback, avoiding the former subject.

“Yes, you let me. I can’t believe it was an accident. What I mean… is that you succeeded to keep your secret away from the world for… years? How many people did you receive in here? During all this time?” His tone betrayed a hint of distrust that he corrected quickly “They… any one could have known, but I saw you, you are a real master of disguise.” he smiled. And then, when he noticed your unease, he pushed gently; “Clarissa? Tell me”. His voice deepened and softened as these last words left his lips, and something in you trembled and burned, very deep.

his voice.

“You are not like them.” You swallowed, faking composure.

“How could you know.. “

If only you knew.

“I wanted to take a risk… I guess. I was tired…” You started shyly. “No… I… I wanted you to be different.” you smiled a little and looked at him with confidence as you exhaled a deep breath. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling back, mirroring your expression, amazed by your sincerity.

Yes, you wanted him to be different. You wanted to give him a chance, and give a chance to yourself. You had been in love before, and you had been loved, or at least, that’s what you thought. You were so much younger and naive. You fell in the arms of a treacherous lover, older than you, Captain of the Guards, a beautiful but so arrogant a man, volatile and cunning. He fogged your head with deceitful words and promises just to toss you away like dirt once he took your innocence and all the love you could give. He left you broken and blank and even if your good-natured heart learned to live and laugh again, it could never feel the gentle tug of that sweet heady feeling, that special sensation deep in your heart and core with any other man. You took lovers after him, just played the game and never allowed any feeling to seep into your cracked soul again. They were all artists, they shared pleasurable time with you and entertained amicable relations with you even when it was over, and you were thankful for the easy and diverting life you were leading, well, until he knocked at your door…

To you, “Vicente” seemed unlike anyone. He looked noble, with a sober character, a stoicism in his manners that you missed in men of your company. Maybe too conventional, to your dismay, but smart and educated. You wanted to know everything about his life. You couldn’t imagine a man like him being a simple servant all his life.

Maybe he lied, you thought.

Why didn’t you think of it earlier? Some of your models presented themselves under false names to protect their privacy, it was common practice.  Some were noblemen and women, sons and daughters of rich notable people of the city, and even when they hid their identity, you ended up knowing. Miguel being the little nosy devil he was, he would go and bring you information you never asked for.  This time, though, Miguel didn’t seem interested in helping you at all. He just hummed, uninterested.  Vicente seemed just like any other servant to him, and he was indeed one, absolutely nothing worth digging for, boring. You found his lack of enthusiasm for the new comer unlike himself, but you just believed him, there was no reason he would lie to you, after all.

*

“Dear god! you look like a brothel madam!“ Miguel exclaimed earlier that morning, incapable of holding his laugh, while you were preparing yourself in front of your mirror.

“You devil! You spying?! Come here!” you laughed back, caught him by his collar, tussling his hair as both of you lost balance and rolled together on the floor.

“I’m so happy, Miguel” you sighed once you regained your breath.

“So am I, my Clarissa” he snuggled his skinny frame into yours and sighed, before looking you in the eyes, a worried shadow covering his eyes “But please… be careful”

You frowned.

“Look who’s giving me advice, my little spy” you pinched his chin. You brushed away the worried expression that didn’t leave his face at your pleasantry, deeming it to his knowledge of your past mistakes.

“Clarissa?” Miguel asked at your door gate as you resumed arranging your hair.

“Hum?” you beamed at him

“Nothing, er…maybe I should go and buy some butter? We are still receiving tomorrow evening?”

“Yes, yes, of course”

And like that, he left in a hurry and you heard his light footsteps running down the granite staircase.

Miguel’s heart was racing as he waited in front of your front door. Of course, he was going to buy butter for tomorrow’s dinner, but before that, he had one thing to do.

Francisco saw Miguel’s familiar silhouette waiting for something, or someone, in front of the atelier’s door. The boy had a habit to stroll around, busy chasing after birds and frogs; Francisco smiled, ready to greet him, but Miguel didn’t seem to return the courtesy. Instead, his eyes sparkled with something severe as he puffed his frail chest.

“Miguel!” Francisco started, stretching one big hand to pat the boy’s hair, but Miguel recoiled from his touch, frowning.

“Why are you still lying to her?” He shouted, voice barely that of a teen, but the words were enough to freeze the blood in Francisco’s veins.

Francisco’s heart leaped in his chest as his hands gripped the gate’s cool iron to ground him.

“Wha…”

“You know what I am talking about here, I know.” Miguel stood his ground.

“What do you know boy?” Francisco couldn’t let a boy intimidate him, so he straightened, full length facing the little being, but Miguel didn’t seem to flinch. Francisco couldn’t help but admire his courage.

“I see how you look at her! and I know you are lying to her! so if you can’t be with her, why are you still coming? Why are you here?”

“You don’t know anything, what are you even trying to tell me?”

“I know you secrets, priest!”

Garupe’s hands were sweating now, barely standing as he felt his whole life going down a black vortex. He must do something. Anything. He grabbed the boy’s sleeve and pulled him to a corner down the road.

Miguel started to yell but Garupe’s big hand blocked his mouth as the other hand kept him in an iron grip.

“Shhh! Miguel, listen to me, I will not hurt you, listen to me!” But the boy tried to bite the priest’s hand, that only tightened on his small face.

“Leehht mmm goh! Mmmmghh”

“Miguel! listen! I don’t want to harm you, and I don’t want to harm her, especially not her” Francisco desperately tried to explain, and Miguel seemed to see some truth in the priest’s eyes, because his taut muscles suddenly loosened up, pressure leaving them as calm regained him, ready to listen to whatever the priest wanted him to know.

He saw how you and Garupe were dancing around each other. He knew about your growing affection for him and he discerned the heated looks he was giving you when you didn’t pay attention… and the looks you were giving him, him paying attention or not. He was knowledgeable of your feelings, knowing you well. What he couldn’t know, were the intentions of “Vicente”, and he was resolved to clear out the matter with him, now.

Being his nosy self, he followed Francisco. The newcomer couldn’t escape Miguel’s tradition after all. As the priest regained his church, he was none the wiser of the small shadow following behind, feather light steps in the blemished darkness of the first hours of dawn.

Miguel lived with that knowledge for weeks, battling with himself over whether he should tell you or not. Smart as he was, he calculated the risks and implications of such discovery. He kept silent, relatively reassured by the fact that you would never take a step and unveil yourself for any of your models. Never, he was sure, even when he saw you visibly falling for that one, every day growing obsessed, not even trying to hide it from him. But now he was panicking. You might be falling into a big trap, you were unaware of it, but he knew, and he was more than determined to protect you, with all his small, punny self.

Miguel took in a deep breath, as Francisco let go of his mouth.

“What are your intentions? Priest?”

It didn’t go unnoticed, the manner he spoke the word “priest”, pejorative and disdainful. Garupe tried to ignore his frustration and anger, as he narrated the complete story to a round eyed Miguel.

They were both sitting on a nearby bench now, Miguel twisting a leaf between his skinny fingers.

“So… how do I know you are telling the truth? How can I be sure this is not a scheme of the church? To bring my master down? Because that’s what it seems to me!”

“No. No, no, no, no, a scheme?” Garupe panicked. From where Miguel fished such mature ideas, would never stop to amaze him. “The church has nothing to do in this matter! It’s me. It’s just me, and I’m a simple priest, no one else is involved. I swear to God…. to you, no one else knows your master’s identity besides me, and you. And no one ever will. Priest’s word”

To that Miguel laughed, a boyish toothy laugh.

“Priest’s word”

“What is that so funny now, boy” impatience was clear in his tone.

“For a priest, you seem fairly enamored” Miguel smirked, mischief sparkling in his beautiful green eyes.

Francisco blushed violently. He couldn’t believe the way he was being played by a child. He gulped, trying to school his expression into something… respectable.

“If helping you cousin is the reason of you being here, then why are you courting my master, treacherous priest?!” Miguel continued without letting Graupe place a word.

“ Cour… I am not! Watch your language b-“

“Yes! You are!” Miguel stared, and Francisco stared back. Several seconds passed and Garupe wondered if he was entering a staring contest with a boy.

“Do you love her?” Miguel asked, soft. Francisco had never seen deeper eyes on a boy’s face.

Did he? Francisco didn’t know yet. What he knew is how his body reacted in your presence, how warmth spread through him whenever he was with you. He wasn’t familiar with this kind of feelings, how was he supposed to answer? Was it love? Or attraction? Or just mere lust? He couldn’t know. He was ignorant of the heart’s matters.

“Would you tell her?” He asked back, as the tacit answer sank deep between them.

“Not if you will. Priests don’t take wives, I know that even if you want to, you can not. Don’t break her heart. Tell her.”

“ I will.” Garupe sighed.

“ Promise me” Miguel insisted

“ I will! when it’s appropriate, I will”

To that, Miguel stood up, stretched his arms, and in an unexpected movement, he stepped on the priest’s foot and run away.

“Fuu- Holy Graal!” Garupe shouted in pain.

“I will keep an eye on you! Priest!” Miguel shouted back, as his lean legs hurtled down the street.

Francisco replayed that encounter in his head while he was dressing after the session came to an end, lost in his thoughts as you approached him.

Your hopes were that he would accept your invitation for the dinner you were holding the next day, and you were determined to get a positive answer.

“Vicente” You spoke softly as your fingers traced lightly his still naked back, making him gasp. You were destroying the little restrain he tried to preserve lately with you. Those little touches, now and then, always coming when never expected, making blood rush to inappropriate places of his body. Were you a witch?

He remembered the promise he made to Miguel.

He stepped back, in an effort to impose some distance between your bodies, when every inch of him wanted just the opposite thing. To surrender, to give in, to let your touch linger and wait for you to take more. But he couldn’t and Miguel’s words weren’t the sole reason. How many times had he tried to remind himself that he was a man of God? He seemed to forget who he was every time he stepped into your little corner of heaven. It was something about the silence, the peace of the garden, the gentle splash of the fountain water and the quiet concentration in your beautiful face, while you worked your marble.

Your face fell a little at his obvious rebuff. You had been growing impatient. You had tried all your tricks to make the shy man open up to you, and even if you had been given positive indications in the way he looked at you, you couldn’t get him to act on it. You thought that it would be the matter of a session or two before you could make him yours, but the man was stubborn, for god knows which reasons! Piety? For he wasn’t married, as he told you… But now that you started to suspect he was lying to you, you couldn’t be sure anymore. But what pious man would pose naked, and for a woman?!

That tall mystery of a man was driving you crazy, making you none the less more determined to break the ice of his fortress.

“So I am giving a dinner tomorrow evening” You tried your softest tone “…and I thought, since you are in the confidence of my secret now, that you might be interested in sharing my little company”

He turned to face you, confusion visible on his gorgeous features, or was it fear?

“You will love them. They are a small group of artists, you can only be pleased by their company” You added, hope slowly fading to embarrassment as you saw his head shake in refusal.

“Clarissa, you know that I am not a free man. My master will not allow me more time than he already has” He tried to sound convincing, and for the most part, he wasn’t lying. He couldn’t honor your invitation, even if he really wanted to, if only just to spend some leisure time with you. But seeing your countenance now, God, he wanted to try, he couldn’t stand the look of disappointment and sadness you gave him.

He reached out, he didn’t think of anything but brushing off the sadness on your face as his hand cupped your cheek, thumb gently caressing the soft skin there, and you leaned into the touch. You missed his hands, the warmth they spread in you. It was different, the feeling of them on your face, and you wondered how they would feel in different places, more intimate places. You sighed as your eyes fluttered shut and he spoke.

“I am going to try, no promises, child”

You smiled at the nickname this time.

#father garupe #francisco garupe #garupe #fanfic #adam driver fan fic #religious guilt #francisco garupe x you #this is a love story

[quiet-kunoichi]

❛ I think I’m going to puke. Is there a trash can in here? ❜

[ question sentence starters | @suck-my-tomato | verse; highschool ]

With a red plastic cup held lackadaisically at her side, Kimiko leans up against the brick hearth of an unused fireplace. She’d arrived only an hour earlier, which clocked her in at a whole two hours late to the messy highschool party. And only thirty minutes late to the arrival of some shitbag adults: whom she recognized as a few of Itachi’s friends. All of them made up a frat house in a college not too far from the highschool - they called their ridiculous gaggle of hooligans the ‘Akatsuki.’ Kimiko much preferred the term: womanizing assholes.  It was Shikamaru who had called her up, this time ‘round. A couple times before, it had been Naruto to desperately dial her - but he always called at the last possible minute, talked at the speed of light and only infuriated her all the more. What was the point of begging for her help if the damage was already done? In each of those instances, Kimiko had arrived with a crack of her boot through the front door: and the parties stilled to an eerie silence as the eye of the storm surveyed the room for her casualty. 

Sasuke Uchiha; an enigma of cool control turned haphazard implosion, and even after all the damage done to their original relationship, Kimiko was somehow still responsible for him. At this rate, she felt more like a Haz. Waste Cleanup crew more than a true form of support, like she had used to be. Naruto thought himself to be stable enough of a pillar for which to knock some sense into Sasuke when the raven danced with the devil a little longer than any mortal should dare to. Sometimes, a good heavy knock to the head worked enough wonders to sober the Uchiha up - but more often than not, Kimiko Tamashi would always be the antidote. His kryptonite; a catch-all cure for the riddle of ailments that plagued him. After the last incident - Kimiko enlisted a better source for pertinent information such as this: Shikamaru Nara. While he wasn’t necessarily the type to enjoy parties, he indeed was the type to be dragged along by his group of friends and quietly watch over them from his shadow. A wallflower, so to speak. He was invaluable to Kimiko, and often gave her a heads up ahead of time. After all, she was much more effective as a cork, or even a deterrent. She knew the nuances of Sasuke’s worst behaviors like the back of her hand: plus, she was impossibly observant. On top of that, she provided Shikamaru steady company; she didn’t wander off and get wildly out of hand like the rest of them. The only time she excused herself from his conversation was to put a certain Uchiha or Uzumaki in their place. In particular, the last time she excused herself to the bathroom, Shikamaru had noticed Sasuke trail in shortly behind her, his onyx gaze throwing itself over his shoulder and hitting the Nara with a silent threat.  That was the longest she was away for; what happened behind that closed door, Shikamaru didn’t care to ask. He wasn’t called a genius for nothing - and he didn’t need the dirty details. He’d rather not know: she wore the shame of her gluttony in her expression, her rumpled clothes, the swollen red of her lips. Even her hair had changed; she had moved it all to one side of her neck, as though it were a simple style choice and not a means to cover up the blooming purple of Sasuke’s lustful signature. Shikamaru was a good friend, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to - Kimiko appeared enough like a member of AA whom just lost their ‘2 months sober’ token. Though, in her particular case.. it was likely more of a ‘2 weeks’ situation.  At her return, Shikamaru simply handed her drink back to her - and watched with button brown eyes as her lips find the bitten lip of the plastic and chugs down the mixed drink as though it were water. While he wants to make a comment on it - he has learned better than to test her waters while she was already electrically charged with ‘Sasuke energy’ as he called it. Instead, he chooses to save his skin rather than put his neck on the chopping block - and offers her a drag of his cigarette. Rusty umber hues give him a pointed look, but she’s quick to cave into the need for nicotine. He knew the risk he ran, treating her this way; but recently fucked or not, Sasuke didn’t own her. No one did, that was precisely part of her appeal. As she takes a lengthy drag, Shikamaru lifts his gaze to keep an eye on the reckless Uchiha as he pushes himself off the hallway wall and stalks into the kitchen instead. Seems Sasuke had watched the exchange like the hawk he always proved to be: inebriated or not, so it seemed. It earned a drawn-out sigh from the exasperated Nara. These two were once a picture of perfection, but now they couldn’t be further from happy and healthy. Fire and ice, interchangeably. One of these times, they would collide so violently that surely they would splinter off so irreparably that the bigger pieces of themselves left remaining would fall completely out of orbit of one another. Or so Shikamaru could only hope. Their incessant rollercoaster relationship was beginning to take a hefty toll on the entirety of their old friend group: nobody could catch up to their tumultuous moods. It was exhausting, truly. It appears that Sasuke was only looking to stir up some more trouble - having that half hour in the bathroom with Kimiko all to himself wasn’t enough to satiate his insatiable hunger to possess her. “Man, here we go..” Shikamaru exhales a bothered grunt, rubbing at his brow with a thumb as he accepts what was left of his vice and returns the orange filter to his pursed lips. Kimiko follows his line of sight and throws a look over her shoulder to spot Sasuke mixing up a deadly concoction of light and dark liquors with an energy drink base. He was seeking her attention, and would use any means necessary to have it. Kimiko didn’t see it that way, though: she just saw her night curdling before her eyes - for which a thin film of red was starting to gloss over. She watches for just a lingering moment more as he takes the wicked encouragement of a few Akatsuki members. He accepts a few unmarked pills and washes them down with the drink - then, with hollering encouragement at his left and right flank, Sasuke chugs down the drink in its entirety. Kimiko stiffens into what might appear as solid marble - but Shikamaru was close enough to see the shiver of electricity prickling just beneath the surface of her aura. Fuck, he was just starting to pick her brain, too.  “That cocksucker..” The insult shudders past a cage of her clenched teeth, and despite his better judgement, Shikamaru nudges at her shoulder with his knuckles. “Come on, don’t let his presence get under your skin. Here,” He offers her what was left of his cigarette. Although with obvious hesitation, and a single glance more over her shoulder, Kimiko accepts the peace offering and sucks down the nicotine, desperate for a feeling of calm to wash over her - no matter how fleeting. They pick up their conversation, but it is obvious that she isn’t as engrossed in it as she was before the bathroom rendezvous. Something is gnawing at her, that much is obvious - and it’s all such a damn drag. Sasuke’s voice was thunderous from his place in the kitchen, and each time the sound carried over and hit the shell of her ears, Kimiko visibly shuddered. At this rate, Shikamaru was only a bystander to whatever chaos was soon to let loose. He could only hope not to become a causality, this time. He’d gotten dangerously close to feeling the heat of Sasuke’s fire a few times before, but that was when the Uchiha had a stronger (and shorter) leash on Kimiko. She’s strayed quite a lot since then, but that only seemed to make Sasuke all the more desperate to make last-ditch efforts of sinking his claws in again.  And suddenly - Sasuke reached his peak (or was it a new low?) and clamored  rather obviously for a trashcan. Kimiko, whom had been mid-sentence, bit her tongue, and her gaze unfocused, glossing over. There was no reaching her, at this rate. She was already swept up, turning on a stiff heel and making long strides toward the kitchen. The sea of people parted clumsily around her thorny presence, and recently abandoned, Shikamaru could only watch from his spot on the wall.  Even the Akatsuki members knew better than to step on her toes when things came to a rearing head like this: though it wasn’t without some scoffs and sneers. She didn’t pay them any mind - they didn’t deserve an ounce of her attention. Neither did Sasuke, really.. But she couldn’t help herself but be magnetized to his side, especially when he was in such a state of disarray. Who else would take care of him, sincerely and genuinely? Who else knew just what he needed without needing to be asked, who else would put up with his spoilt attitude and still stick around to ensure he got tucked in, safe and sound in his own bed?  She stiff-arms a nearby stranger who tried to coddle the green-faced Uchiha, ripping the trashcan from its spot beneath the sink and forcefully thrusting it against Sasuke’s chest right in time. He unleashes a slurry of pure liquid: she hopes the purging will sober him up a little. But just to be certain, Kimiko opens the back door after tossing the rest of her drink and filling her cup with tap water. After he empties himself of his various vices, Kimiko places a hand between his shoulderblades and begins to urge him onto the back porch. “Come on, let’s get some air.” It sounds like a suggestion, but he should know that it’s really just a thinly veiled threat to obey her command. Fun’s over: he’d pushed it too far.  Once outside, Kimiko pushes the door shut with her backside. She hits him with a disapproving stare, tilting her chin up to regard him unhappily down the hard line of her nose. Her arms tuck tightly under her bust, and once their eyes meet, the weary Tamashi releases a slow exhale from flared nostrils. “God, Sasuke..” She sighs, not concealing her obvious look of pity. He didn’t deserve her effort in saving his pride, not this time. He mumbled something about warning her - she was his, and his alone. She shouldn’t have strayed back to Shikamaru, not after the show of possessively claiming her via the unplanned (on her part) bathroom tryst. In response, she can only roll her eyes. Her mouth opens to spit back some choice words, but she’s interrupted by another hurl on his part. Kimiko’s face twists into a show of concern despite her best efforts in remaining irreparably irritated. Despite how sour they’d grown for one another, one thing was for certain: she was still head over heels in love with him. Eyebrows knit up to the center of her forehead, the corners of her eyes crease and her nose wrinkles. At last, Kimiko gives up her pride: her arms release from their guarded hold and come loose at her sides. Then, they reach for him. She flinches out of a newly formed habit right as she’s only a hair away from touching him - but she encircles him into her grasp anyway.  “Why did you do that to yourself, Taka..?” She whispers at last, once his purging seems to die down once again. She tucks some longer bits of his hair behind his ears with a gentle touch, and ducks her head in order to study his face. Her sleeve wraps around her thumb and she swipes at a tear in the corner of his eye, then she rubs away some runny snot from under his nose. “And don’t you ever use me as an excuse for this kind of idiotic behavior. As much as I want to beat some clarity into you, I don’t want to see you continue down this path. It reeks - and it’s certainly far from charming, too.” She gives a little scoff, the heavy palm of her hand running comforting circles on the center of his back.  “Let me walk you home.” Her tone is laced with a gentle warning, and the stony glare she accompanies with the ‘suggestion’ only proves that she ought not to be denied at this rate. “Please,” She manages to bite out - it tastes bitter. “I want to stay the night.” Now, she simpers beside him. Leans her side into his own, cozying up against him and telling - no, reminding herself that this is where she felt the safest. “I want to be all yours - I want you all to myself .. just as we always were.”

#welp! #i wrote you a drabble #..eheh #its just like me to get carried away when it comes to these two #suck-my-tomato #verse; highschool #tw; alcohol #tw; drugs #tw; abuse

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

The Defensive Power of the Peace of God

by Henry Melvill

"And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." - Philippians 4:7

The expression here used by Paul, and which we render by the word "keep," is stronger in the original Greek than in the English translation. It is a military term denoting occupancy by a garrison. In another place our translators have used several words to convey this idea, though there is nothing in the Greek but the single word which occurs in our text. We refer to that passage in which Paul mentions the attempt to detain him in Damascus: "In Damascus, the governor, under Aretas the king, kept the city of the Damascenes with a garrison, desirous to apprehend me." Here "kept with a garrison" is the translation of the one word which in our text is rendered simply by "keep." What the apostle, therefore, designed to affirm in regard to the "peace of God," was that this peace took military possession of the soul, occupied it as a garrison, and enabled it to ward off assaults.

Now you will recall that in our Lord's parting discourses he solemnly bequeathed "peace" as his legacy. This could not have been a peace resulting from a sense that sin was forgiven, for he had no sin. Neither could it have been a peace of reconciliation to God, for there had never been any enmity between him and the Father. Therefore, we must understand this peace to be the thorough harmony which existed between his will and the divine, his perfect acquiescence in every appointment of the Father, his undeviating confidence in his protection, and the imperturbable assurance of his love.

It is this peace that Christ gives to his Church. The man on whom God bestows it will enjoy a tranquil assurance that nothing can separate him from the love of his Maker, and that in the midst of dangers and difficulties he will be enabled to fix his eye on an incorruptible inheritance. It is far more than the peace of one who hears the proclamation of pardon from his king after having taken up arms against him. Rather, it is the peace of oneness of will, of a felt and endearing relationship to God, of a renewed nature, of an anticipated immortality.

It is a peace that passes all understanding. It cannot be expressed when felt, and even when felt it cannot be understood; for it is worked into the mind by the Spirit of God. But yet it is no mystical thing of which it were vain to ask a rational account. Since the apostle speaks of this peace as keeping the hearts and minds of those by whom it is possessed, it is evidently a practical peace, not something dwelling sublimely in the clouds and to be pursued by the imagination and enjoyed in some rare moment of spiritual ecstasy. Rather it is an active, vigorous principle, armed with the weapons of a warrior, taking a defensive stand amid the noise and struggle of everyday life. And this peace of God passes all understanding, not because it is unintelligible in its nature and, much less, inscrutable in its effects, but because it is of such high origin and rare excellence, of such preeminent energy, that even the very thoughts must fail to comprehend it.

You might have been prepared to hear that the power or the Spirit of God would effectually garrison the human soul, not that "the peace of God" would defend it against every enemy. But that is exactly what it does. It is adapted to "keep" the heart and mind. By the mind we must suppose Paul to mean the understanding, the intellectual faculties. By the heart he means the affections. To keep the mind is to preserve man from the assaults made on his understanding by skeptical objections or insinuations. To keep the heart is to preserve him from the assaults made on his affections by the world and worldly things. It is declared that the peace of God shall actually garrison both the heart and the mind, and it is certainly implied that a soul thus occupied and guarded shall not be overcome.

The common idea of Christianity, however, is far below this truth. The man who is always bewailing his depravity, confessing his inconsistencies, and cherishing but a faint hope of pardon and acceptance is the one who passes for an admirable Christian. He is the man to whom the world, the flesh, and the devil are but feebly resisted. He has no decided permanent preference of invisible things to visible. Victory in his life is neither a habit nor is defeat an exception. And if you, dear reader, do not find your chief delight in God but rather in the world, and if your experience of his consolations do not fortify you against the worst forms of trouble, then you may find cause for questioning whether you truly have this peace of God.

Now we must distinguish between what we call the offensive weapons of a Christian and the defensive, between the arguments with which he may attempt to beat down the infidelity of another and those which may suffice to keep infidelity from infecting him. What would be very efficacious in confirming and strengthening the faith of a believer may not be capable of being woven into reasoning and brought to bear on the unbeliever; for it may be something altogether of personal experience--certain and sure to those by whom it is felt, but not evident to others and therefore powerless if used in debate. He must then betake himself to external evidence, that is, to the witness from miracle and prophecy, to the "proofs" of Christianity. And if the believer knows little or nothing of this external testimony, he will be no match for his opponent.

But will he, on this account, be himself an easy prey to the infidel? Simply because he is unequipped with offensive weapons, will he be found unprepared to maintain a defensive position? I reply that, on the contrary, his mind is too well garrisoned to be carried by the assaults of an enemy. Though he may not have studied what are popularly called the "evidences of Christianity," he has been obeying the precepts of God and relying on his promises. And thus he is his own witness to the truth of the Bible. He has put the precepts of the Bible to the test and found them true. Another man to whom he may tell of his experience may be doubtful of the facts, but to himself the argument is absolutely conclusive. No matter how little his ability to make manifest the reality of his Christian experience against a bold and cunning assailant, he nevertheless has an armory in the depths of his own experience from which he may fetch weapons for guarding his citadel, and thus he enjoys the "peace which passes all understanding."

Now we may pass through life with but little skeptical assault, but we are attacked through the affections daily, even hourly. We are in peril of being overcome by the allurements of the world. Here we especially need a defense, a garrison that will enable us to withstand those temptations to which we are naturally prone to yield. Let us therefore aim at an abiding and elevating sense of God's love and favor, an actual delighting in him, and an anticipation of heavenly joys; for then we would have comparatively no relish for base and transient pleasures. We would prefer the honors that God alone can bestow, to those offered by the world. We would be attached to the service of piety rather than the service of sin. With our faith kept in vigorous exercise, there would be little probability of being seduced by a base appetite or allured by a worldly trinket. The temptation would be powerless, and our hearts would be garrisoned by the "peace which passes all understanding."

We find in the verse preceding our text how the peace of God may be obtained: "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God." It is by prayer, by the cultivation of a devotional habit of communing with our heavenly Father, that we obtain that peace which garrisons both the heart and mind. We can hardly doubt that one grand reason why Christians make so little progress and have so little enjoyment is that they are so scant in their devotions. God is ready to bestow great blessings, but he will be asked and importuned for them. The condition of bestowal is, "Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it." Let us be frequent and fervent in communion with God, for then shall we gain the "peace that passes all understanding."

Who would be without this peace? Is not the night closing in, is not the storm rising? It is but a little while and each of us will be summoned to leave the world and appear before God. And what then shall comfort and sustain us? Nothing else but a full persuasion that our sins are blotted out and we are accepted in Christ, that God is on our side and heaven is our portion. This persuasion is "the peace of God" which he bestows on those who wait upon him diligently, and who hearken to his word. "You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you."

#Henry Melvill #The Defensive Power of the Peace of God #Philippians 4:7 #inspirational reading

[veliseraptor]

before you start a war

2.1k, Remember This Cold-verse, Tony POV of his (off-screen) conversation with Thor during we live until we die

Thanks to @led-lite​ and @loxxxlay​ for giving this a preliminary read for me! And thanks to @portraitoftheoddity for suggesting I write this one.

---

This was not, to say the least, a conversation Tony had been looking forward to having. Actually, it was one he’d been actively dreading, and trying to think how to handle, off and on, for a while. Because he’d figured that Thor was coming back sooner or later - he hadn’t let himself really consider that might not be the case - and knew that when he came back he’d talk to Loki, and Loki…

Well, he doubted Loki was going to give him a very fair shake in his version of what had gone down. Steve might. Maybe. But last time they’d seen each other he’d been pretty damn pissed.

And Tony had seen what had happened to the last person who’d captured and imprisoned Loki when Thor got to him. Or, well, hadn’t seen, because whatever remained after Thor finished killing him had been buried under an entire castle’s worth of rubble.

So, yeah. Hadn’t been looking forward to this one.

But now Thor was here, standing in front of him wearing a new eyepatch (seriously, what was the story there? did he get to ask?), and Tony couldn’t help but feel like it was a good thing that things were going to shit because it meant Thor probably wouldn’t break any bones.

“So,” Tony said. “Welcome back to Planet Earth, I guess. Belatedly.”

Thor’s expression remained cold. “I am not here to make small talk.”

“Not even a little?”

Thor said nothing. It occurred to Tony that he had never, not really, been on the wrong end of Thor’s anger. Not even at their first meeting, when Thor had been trying to pound him into the ground with Mjolnir - that had been different. A fit of pique. This was…

If he was in the business of quailing, he thought he would be quailing.

“Right,” Tony said. “Okay. I’m guessing there are some things you want to say.”

“I would rather hear what you have to say, first.”

“Are you going to listen?”

“Yes,” Thor said. “I will listen.” His voice was flat and final, though.

So, what, you’ve already made up your mind? he thought bitterly. You know everything already, is that it? Just walk in after vanishing off the face of the Earth and decide everything’s my fault-

Tony’s jaw clenched.

“You weren’t here,” he said. “You don’t know what it was like. Ross already knew Loki was here, did they tell you that? He had footage from his and Barnes’ revenge rampage, showed him taking me out and then him and Steve getting cozy. He said we either turned the two of them over and signed the damn papers or - or nothing. Or else. It wasn’t like we had a lot of bargaining room.”

Thor still said nothing.

“Then someone went and blew up a bomb, made it look like Barnes did it. Steve went off the reservation and dragged a bunch of the others off after him. We were going to talk things through but then Ross interrupted and things went south - I had to do something, all right? People were going to die. Loki was going to kill people. That would’ve made everything worse. As it was - yeah, I knew Loki was going to get locked up but I figured that was better than dead.”

Still nothing. Jesus. What was Thor thinking? It seemed like he should be able to tell - Thor wasn’t exactly subtle, generally speaking - but he was having a devil of a time right now.

“Are you going to say something?”

“I thought you wanted me to listen.”

Jesus fuck. “Yeah, that doesn’t mean I want you to just stand there staring at me. Thor-”

“Where does Victor von Doom’s technology come into this?”

Oh, great. Yeah. That. It had seemed like a good idea at the time - it still seemed like a good idea, honestly. They’d needed a way to contain Loki. To control him. And it wasn’t like anyone else had found one.

No one else seemed to see it that way.

Big surprise.

“What about it?”

“When did you begin researching ways of cutting Loki off from his magic?”

Tony gritted his teeth. “I was being careful. And turns out that there’s a backdoor in his brain that Thanos can get through, so seems like maybe I was right.”

“Be careful, Stark,” Thor said, his voice dropping even lower. Tony tensed, some deep instinctive part of him telling him to hide in the grass until the big predator went away.

“It’s not like it hurts him,” Tony said, valiantly holding his ground.

“You are right,” Thor said after a moment. “It doesn’t cause him pain as you or I would reckon it. But it is a violation. It is a theft of something intrinsic to every part of Loki’s being. It is-” Thor inhaled through his nose. “It is,” he said, voice brutally, viciously flat, “a kind of rape.”

Tony recoiled. “That’s not-”

“Would you know?” Thor asked. “Are you so certain? Are you so familiar with magic, and how it works, and what it means, that you would understand?”

He felt sick. “I…”

“Then there is the matter of his imprisonment,” Thor said. “You say, better locked up than dead. But I am given to understand that this man, this General Ross - that death is the outcome he desired. And he was the one who had Loki in his hands. Not you. Is that correct?”

The research potential, Tony remembered Ross saying. “He wouldn’t’ve dared. Not with you out there. I made sure he knew that.”

“You believed that the hypothetical of a future threat might sway him,” Thor said.

Yeah. You’re a pretty big threat, especially considering what happened to Doom. But he’d wondered since then, hadn’t he? If Ross might not’ve considered it worth taking the chance, or if he just thought he could control Thor if it came down to it. He would’ve been wrong, but he might’ve been that stupid. “You’re a pretty big threat,” he said aloud.

“That is a great deal of confidence on which to stake another’s life.”

“I’m a confident kind of guy,” Tony said, because he was an idiot. The look Thor leveled at him could’ve killed a small mammal. Maybe a medium mammal.

“Then,” Thor went on, “you say that you acted because Loki would have killed people. I would say that you are wrong there, as well.”

Tony blinked. “Again,” he said, “you weren’t there. You didn’t see what was happening. I know you love your brother, Thor, you want to think the best of him, obviously, but it was a fight and he could’ve killed everyone on that field-”

“You aren’t wrong,” Thor said. “He could have. Easily, even, excepting the Vision. And if he had intended to do so, he would have done it quickly, before anyone he cared about was at risk of being hurt.” His eye bored into Tony, cold and implacable. “That is how he has always been. I might have drawn battles out for the sake of the glory, or because I enjoyed the struggle. Loki’s preference was always to end things quickly, efficiently, and completely. No mercy, and no quarter.”

All the air seemed to have left Tony’s lungs. He thought of the HYDRA bases they’d seen after Barnes and Loki had been through them. No mercy, and no quarter.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Tony said. His voice sounded very weak.

“Did you not? It seems Steve chose differently. That would suggest there was one.”

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Yeah, he wasn’t going to try that one.

“And what about the part where he’s a brain hack waiting to happen,” Tony said.

“Do not tell me that is your rationale. You were working on a means to cripple Loki well before you knew that was a possibility.”

“Because he’s dangerous, Thor,” Tony burst out. “God, it’s like - he might be doing better but he’s still unstable as hell, and violent, and way fucking stronger than most of the rest of us-”

“You are correct,” Thor said, “in your assessment that my brother is dangerous. He is. So am I.”

“You don’t have a history of trying to conquer planets.”

“My father did. My sister did. I had a lack of opportunity.”

Sister? Okay, probably not the time to ask. Tony wanted to sit down. Or put a piece of furniture between himself and Thor. He held his ground. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to apologize,” Thor said. “And I want you to swear that you will never act to cause my brother harm again. Or I cannot promise I will confine myself to words.”

“Thor,” Tony said, “we’re friends.”

“I believed we were,” Thor said. “That is why I am confining myself to words. That, and the fact that Steve asked me to do as much. Because even after what you have done, Steve does not wish harm to come to you. Steve is, as I have always known, a more tolerant man than I.”

Fuck, Tony thought. Fuck. He felt like Thor had just taken his trademark hammer to Tony’s chest. He took a deep breath. How could he promise that, how could he promise when Loki still might turn on them, even if it wasn’t his fault, or what if Thanos threatened Steve, or, or, or.

His shoulders slumped. Realistically, Tony...something goes wrong, you’re not going to be the one to stop it. You’re going to be the first one in the firing line. He’d seen how Loki was looking at him. Like Tony was a mouse and Loki was a cat crouched and watching, waiting.

I will get out of here, sooner or later. You had best hope I am in a forgiving mood when I do.

Tony didn’t think Loki had forgiving moods.

“I’m sorry,” he said heavily. It seemed like the only thing he could say. “I know...this isn’t how I wanted it to go.”

Some of the cold anger eased a little. For a moment he thought Thor looked tired, too. They all were, weren’t they? Worn out, and here they were facing the biggest fight of their lives so far, and at each others’ throats.

“I do not believe you are an evil man,” Thor said.

“Well,” Tony said, with a weak, fake smile. “That’s a relief.”

“And it isn’t me to whom you owe an apology.”

God. Tony wanted to have that conversation even less. He pressed his hands into his eyes. “Guess you’re the only one,” he said unhappily.

“Your oath,” Thor said. Tony found a chair and sat down in it, feeling utterly defeated.

“Yeah,” he said. “All right. Fine. I won’t hurt your baby brother.” The words were bitter. He felt bitter, too.

“Thank you.”

Thor didn’t leave immediately. Tony stayed where he was. He wanted to go home, or call Pepper, or…

“Things went bad so fast. I thought I could keep them under control.”

“For you,” Thor said. “For your friends. But from what I hear...any security you found was never going to be for Loki, or for James Barnes.”

How often had Tony turned that around in his head? Trying to figure out if maybe there’d been some way out, something he could’ve done that would’ve meant keeping the murder twins away from Ross, safe but contained. He’d never come up with anything.

Uncontrollable weaponry is rather your specialty.

The bastard really got in your head, didn’t he? Sucked when he was fucking right. He'd tried to do the right thing, tried to fix what he’d broken, and everything got a whole the fuck lot worse.

“I am glad you are well,” Thor said. “And we will fight together for the same ends now. But I will say this. Unless and until Loki forgives you, I will not consider you a friend of mine. And Loki has a very long memory.” He inclined his head. “I imagine we will speak later, when the others arrive. Good day, Tony Stark.”

He turned and walked away. Tony didn’t call after him. He felt like he’d swallowed a mouthful of rocks.

How do you do it, asshole, he thought bitterly. How do you get people, good people, to care about you that much? To have that kind of loyalty? You don’t deserve it. Cold-blooded, snake-hearted bastard.

Steve’s husband, now. That must’ve been some wedding.

God, but he suddenly felt very, very, lonely.

#a wild fic appeared #remember this cold #this'll be going on ao3 in the next few days i expect #maybe even as its own fic #tony's not particularly charitable loki feelings #thor's not particularly charitable tony feelings #no one in this fic is in a good mood

[haleviyah]

I just want to be clear ^^;

For future reference, and the fact I keep being asked about this, I am NOT a Christian.

I have not been to church in years, I have even been ousted by Christians over the littlest and most ridiculous reasons that occurred before I even published “Rose of Sharon”. I was policed and harassed by these said people online, and it resulted me to be disbanded from them not just for my safety and well-being but also for their’s as well…

Long story short, we don’t get along. I tried (emphasis on TRIED) making bridges with them, which resulted in these sheep always knocking it down… Geez. Sound familiar?  

HOWEVER, I am a person growing in Biblical philosophy. The reason why I don’t (and even refuse to) share verses of the Bible on social media anymore is not because I don’t believe in it. It is simply because:

I need to, and would rather, fully understand what these verses are contextually saying FIRST, before sharing. It’s pointless of me repeating phrases I don’t understand.

Call me old fashioned, I prefer to walk before I talk now a days. I don’t speak verses unless I apply them personally first.

I treat the Bible like how I treat my marriage: privately. Just the fact that I read the Bible should never be paraded so I can look good to others. If you want to share verses, feel free to share, but don’t do it to portray as the good guy or that ego going to bite you in the ass.

I rather let people judge me by my character and not the labels I wear or what I so happen to post here. That’s all I ask. (Common sense, if a woman loves her man she’s faithful to him, same context should apply to what I am reading from the Bible...same damn context!) 

So, I’m not aChristian technically speaking. I came, I saw, but they saw me too, hated me and… I left. And again, I am biblically growing, does this mean I hate other people by default? Uh, Hell no.

I mean, what gives me the right to damn another person who has just as much potential as I do?

Unpopular opinion here, I’m a woman who took Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s words more seriously than “certain movements” that have been trending on social media for the past few month. I prefer to judge by the content of character. It’s effective and helps you find real friends in the world. 

I really don’t care if you’re gay, American, Asian, African, atheist, Catholic, Jew, or even physically/mentally injured, I really, really don’t care. What I care more about is the continuity of your character.

It’s simple: If I see your are open and willing to listen, then we’ll talk. However if I see you are apathetic and expect me to psychically know your philosophies/issues without clear, adequate explanations from you, then I won’t understand you. Or if you expect me to kowtow to you because you’re “x” label, we will have issues. 

On a side note let me also say this: I have made the mistakes like many others here. I have made unjust judgements (I mean, who hasn’t?) and I have started fights that I to this day do regret even if I did apologize for them. Bottom line, I have learned from those cringe worthy mistakes. And with that, I know what leads a person to see the world through “Black and White” or “Kingdom of Light and Kingdom of Darkness”. It’s called ‘ignorance’. That simple.

That very filter of division does drive you mad, and turns you into the exact devil you claim to be fighting against. Arguably, (based on experience) that kind of divided mentality never truly unifies people - doesn’t matter if you’re religious or not. Living like that doesn’t really give chance for Truth and what is consistent in this world to speak up and guide or correct you. As a matter of fact, that kind of philosophy doesn’t even encourage you to accept correction or rebuke maturely; which is extremely dangerous! This “my way or the highway; if you’re not with me you’re the devil” mentality is more disgusting than snuff films. I’ll be frank...

In recent years, I’ve learned that there are different shades of grey in the world, different hues of light. Some people are dim sparks and other’s are bright stars; but each flame tells a story wether it be of tragedy or triumph, we can learn regardless from each person. But I challenge those who view the world divided, how can you reach out and unify these sparks into a beautiful light show if you are too damn picky of favoring the brightest, whitest lights? You’re going to go blind like that. If you’re playing favoritism like this you’re not the wiseman, you’ve become the fool in that case.  

I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: Ignorance breathes fear, fear breathes hatred, and hatred breathes destruction. Fear cannot be cured by committing genocide on everything you hate, it can be cured by simply educating yourself. Empathizing others.

What does it mean to empathize? Empathy simply means the act of placing yourself into the shoes of another and seeing the world through their perspective while investigating why they act and think this way. This move demands absolute humility and being empty of your personal opinions. Or how Christian’s constantly preach of “Being dead to yourself”. Unlike sympathy which is usually moved by emotion and usually only rewarding one person, empathy is moved by genuine willingness to understand another. It helps give opportunity for both people to grow and become stronger individuals through each other’s understanding. To have a clear picture of it, Sherlock Holmes is great example of empathy (the original novels, not the recent tv show). Pretty cool if this is your first time hearing empathy, huh?

Unfortunately, this requirement of humility, self-disesteem, and sacrifice of personal opinions is exactly why people don’t like empathy. Because humility by nature has a habit of getting you out of your comfort zone; out of that safe space so you can can understand your true place. Empathy is very self-convicting, but that’s what makes it so powerful and unifying than just holding riots in the streets with signs.  

That’s a mere brush up, but I hope that’s enough.

But going back to explaining myself. I’ve learned too much in the past year alone to just bow the knee to the demands of just anyone. I’m NOT doing that because this year has made me bitter… No. I am honestly putting the foot down for the sake of the other person. If I bow the knee to them, that rewards any bitterness that is eating them up inside, and thus would blind each of us to what is honorable and just in this world. In short, it would just kill us.

I am not for treating a person according to their sins, but I’m rather for rebuking them according to the potential they have and what they stand for. Of course everyone has a choice to listen or not, but let mine be the just thing to do.  

Do unto others and you want others to do unto you. We know who recited that phrase, but He also said “You shall be condemned (or held accountable) to the words you speak (what you uphold/ or the philosophy you live by).”  

So, back to original statement. After reading all this, do I sound or act like a Christian? What defines one since there are so many variations out there anyway?

Everyone is welcome here on my blog. I’m not going to push anyone away just because you are different from me, but I’m not expecting everyone to love me. I can be blunt sometimes, but it’s better than me lying to people. I am not going to shove the Bible down your throat because simply I find that stupid and immature. If you don’t like me you don’t have to follow me, just don’t resort to emotional retorts... it’s not going to make me do anything. 

If you’re open to me, I’m open to you. If you’re closed up from me, I won’t force you to open up… But please…

PLEASE! Don’t expect me to understand you if you don’t explain yourself.

It’s all that simple.

#let's clear the air #about me #i'm not religious #i'm not a christian #biblical person #let's be mature here

[multi-mused-menagerie]

━━━━━ ✮ CHARACTER HEADCANONS | NAKAHARA CHUUYA BACKSTORY (FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST VERSE)

UNDER THE CUT DUE TO: MENTIONS OF EXPERIMENTATION, DEATH, MURDER, AND WAR.

BEFORE CANON:

CHUUYA IS THE RESULT OF HUMAN EXPERIMENTATION FROM ONE OF THE ALCHEMICAL LABORATORIES LOCATED IN CENTRAL CITY. Originally, Chuuya was a random orphan picked up off the streets to be used as a test subject for an experiment involving using a human body as a vessel/container for a Philosopher's Stone. The main goal was not to create a homunculus, but rather to be able to hide a stone inside of a person so that at a later time, if needed, the person holding the stone could be found and the stone extracted. Chuuya was eventually infused with a Philosopher's Stone that was made from chaotic and destructive souls and, during the clash between the stone and himself, died.

HOWEVER, during that clash, before Chuuya died, a soul within the stone who had a stronger will than the others around him, used this opportunity to free themselves from his prison. Taking what little remains were left of the body’s original soul, this soul took seemingly merged himself with them and was “reborn” as a new soul/being. This process was not as simple as it seemed, however, and actually created a reaction similar to rebound in alchemy, resulting in the destruction of the alchemical laboratory Chuuya was in and the loss of many of the memories belonging to the soul from the stone and the original Chuuya. Waking up in the debris of an explosion, disoriented and alone with only the knowledge of a name, Nakahara Chuuya pick himself up and began walking, hoping that at some point he would find some answers.

AT SOME POINT, after wandering around from Central City towards Kanda, Chuuya eventually stumbled upon a group of orphans who called themselves “Sheep”, most of whom were Ishvalan. Unlike other people he had met - Amestrians looking down on him for being an orphan and other Ishvalans avoiding him due to his hair and eyes - Sheep took him in with open arms, making him one of their own and even helping him learn many things he didn’t know about or forgot.

ONE YEAR LATER, Chuuya eventually discovered that he somewhat had the potential for alchemy, able to to the first two steps, but unable to perform the third. While this did cause some tension between him and Sheep, the situation eventually died down once it was certain that Chuuya could not learn the third step of alchemy, a fact that while it didn’t necessarily bother him, it didn’t stop him from trying to learn.

ANOTHER YEAR LATER, everything suddenly changed. The Ishval Civil War, now at its peak, had made life hard for Sheep, many people beginning to view Ishvalans as dangerous, forcing the gang to lie low and go into hiding. Due to his appearance, Chuuya was the one to be sent out for supplies, usually leaving for almost the entire day. However, during one of these supply runs, Chuuya came back to Sheep’s base to find Amestrian soldiers killing Sheep, the people he considered his family. Enraged, he attempted to stop them, only to be subdued and knocked out, falling into his subconscious.

WHILE INSIDE OF HIS SUBCONSCIOUS, Chuuya, surrounded by the screaming of what felt like millions of souls demanding for “chaos” and “destruction” and “bloodshed”, was finally able to remember his past and what happened to him. At first, he was upset at what this revelation meant for him, afraid that this made him inhuman and that, because of his status as a former experiment, he was the reason his family was murdered. However, those feelings were soon replaced with anger which was only spurred on by the screams of the souls around him, eventually leading to the first use of what would soon be labeled as Corruption. This first time lasted only 2 minutes and destroyed the entire area, leaving nothing behind, with Chuuya only pulling himself out of his destruction-filled haze with sheer willpower. Mentally exhausted, he passed out, deciding to go towards Central City in search of answers about the experiment done on him/his body before losing consciousness.

ONCE HE ARRIVED IN CENTRAL CITY, Chuuya remained on his own for a good while (about 2 years), doing random odd jobs just to make ends meet while investigating and searching for more information involving Sheep. Around this time, he became the subject of a rumor within the military police, only being known as “the compact redhead who will kick your ass if you see him”, due to him breaking into military protected buildings and taking information, beating up anyone in his way.

AFTER ACCIDENTLY ATTRACTING TOO MUCH ATTENTION TO HIMSELF, he eventually makes his way down south towards Dublith, hoping to lie low for a bit before returning. There he eventually meets and joins the Devil’s Nest Gang, considering them his own family. 

DURING CANON:

BY THE TIME THE ELRIC BROTHERS ARRIVE AT THE DEVIL’S NEST, Chuuya has been there for about a year, mainly hanging out in and around the underground escape routes to make sure nobody gets inside. He doesn’t fight the Elric brothers with Greed and the others, but he does end up fighting against Bradley with the rest of the gang, barely able to dodge the other man’s attacks. He’s eventually forced to escape after getting stabbed and told by Greed to leave, falling into the sewer waters and letting them take him away from the Devil’s Nest.

AFTER LEAVING THE SEWERS, Chuuya arrives and decides to stay in South City. Wracked with survivor's guilt and anger at the loss of his second family due to the military police, the souls inside of him are able to greatly influence his way of thinking, encouraging and even demanding that he go on a killing spree, actively hunting down anyone wearing the blue uniform.

WHEN HE’S NOT HUNTING DOWN MEMBERS OF THE MILITARY POLICE, Chuuya spends his time alone, not wanting to interact with others due to the fear that anyone coming into contact with him will eventually meet a gory end just like Sheep and the Devil’s Nest Gang. The only time he interacts with others is when he’s fighting and killing people in the Military Police.

WHAT EVENTUALLY STOPS HIS RAMPAGE, unless stated otherwise, is the realization that he almost got rid of his bracelet from Sheep, the one thing reminding him of what little humanity he has. This event occurs a month or two after his killings began and leaves him with only feelings of disgust and anger towards himself.

FROM THERE, Chuuya’s story and interactions can go a multitude of different ways. However, he does at some point end up helping with the coup against the government, only asking to be charged for his killings afterward. He’s kept away from the final fight against Father due to the fear that the Philosopher’s stone inside of him would be taken and used.

WHILE HE’S NEVER MET THE MAN, Chuuya has some sympathy for Scar and respects him and how he performs his judgment. Scar’s method of killing reminds Chuuya of how he uses alchemy and is what eventually inspires him to focus on deconstruction instead of attempting to try and learn reconstruction.

HOW HE INTERACTS WITH OTHER MUSES CAN CHANGE DEPENDING ON HOW INTRODUCTIONS GO/PRIOR PLOTTING. Please don’t feel shy to ask me to plot something with you and your muses. I swear he's not that bad; he’s just angry at the government and wants to destroy it-

#✧i might change some things depending on how he actually interacts with other people #but this is what i have so far ówò #ill make a post later talking about arahabaki and how he plays into this along with chuuya being a human based homunculus #but yeah here he is nejrgne✧ #✮ i would never go back in time or play god | fandom; full metal alchemist #✮ you shouldnt have messed with me | headcanons; nakahara chuuya #✮ i now will try to endure solitude; my arms already seem like useless things | fma verse; nakahara chuuya #✮ uncharted planets | ask to tag #tw: death mention #tw: violence mention #tw: murder mention #tw: war mention #tw: experimentation mention

[srinithyananda]

28 JULY 2020 - 8:38 PM TUESDAY (IST), NITHYANANDA SATSANG - ENGLISH GIST *PARAMASHIVA’S DIRECT MESSAGE FROM KAILASA: *E-KAILASA IS THE MESSAGE FROM PARAMASHIVA FOR ALL OF YOU, NOT ONLY TO SAIL THROUGH THIS PRALAYA, TO HAVE SUPERCONSCIOUS BREAKTHROUGH! *WHAT DO I MEAN BY THE WORD E-KAILASA? ENLIGHTENMENT ECOSYSTEM! LITERALLY ENLIGHTENMENT ITSELF IN YOUR HOME WHEREVER YOU ARE! *IF YOU CANNOT COME TO KAILASA, IT IS OK, KAILASA CAN COME TO YOU. KAILASA COMING TO YOU IS E-KAILASA. LITERALLY ENLIGHTENMENT, POWER MANIFESTATION, PARAMASHIVA, EVERYTHING SERVED TO YOU WITHOUT YOU EVEN MOVING OUT OF YOUR COUCH; FOR COUCH POTATOES! *SIDDHA MEANS BOILED POTATO AND ENLIGHTENED IN SANSKRIT. WE BOIL COUCH POTATOES AND MAKE THEM ENLIGHTENED POTATOES! *ALREADY IN MULTIPLE LOCATIONS WE HAVE STARTED OFFERING THIS SERVICE OF E-KAILASA. NOW WE WILL ORGANISE IT IN A MUCH BETTER WAY. LITERALLY IN ALL TIME ZONES WE HAVE E-KAILASA OPERATION. *FIRST THING: ONLY WHEN YOU LIVE ALL THE POWERFUL COGNITIONS, KNOWLEDGE, POWER MANIFESTATION - PARAMASHIVA HAPPEN. THIS IS THE FUNDAMENTAL TRUTH. IF YOU READ FOR 50 YEARS, ALL GREAT BOOKS ABOUT YOGA AND YOU HAVE BECOME A MASTER NOW AND YOU WRITE BOOKS ON YOGA AND YOU GET A PHD, BUT YOU DON'T GET UP EVEN ONE DAY TO PRACTICE YOGA, DON'T CALL YOURSELF AS A YOGI! YOU WILL NOT BE ENJOYING THE REAL RESULTS OF YOGA EITHER. REAL RESULTS OF YOGA IS ENLIGHTENMENT, HEALTH, SPIRITUAL BENEFITS. *MANY PEOPLE USE YOGA TO GET ATTENTION IN KITTY PARTIES. IF YOU TALK A LOT ABOUT SPIRITUALITY, YOU GET A LOT OF ATTENTION. SOMETIMES PEOPLE USE YOGA COMMERCIALLY OR FOR THEIR POLITICAL INTEREST, OR TO SHOW THAT THEY KNOW A LOT. BUT NONE OF IT WILL BRING ANY GOOD TO YOU UNLESS YOU DO IT. *YOU NEED TO WAKE UP IN BRAHMA MUHURTA AND START DOING. YOU NEED TO SIT IN PADMASANA FOR HOURS AND BE ABLE TO PERFORM YOUR OFFICE OR ANY ACTIVITY OF YOUR LIFE. EVEN IN YOUR OFFICE, IF YOU CAN SIT IN PADMASANA AND DO IT, YOU WILL BRING SO MUCH GOOD TO YOU AND TO OTHERS. *JUST LYING IN A RELAXED WAY, YOU CAN’T GET ANGRY. YOU HAVE TO SIT UP. TRY TO ATTEND ONE PHONE CALL WITH YOUR SPOUSE BY LYING IN A RELAXED WAY, IT IS NOT POSSIBLE BECAUSE A LOT WILL BE HAPPENING IN THAT CALL! *THE POSTURE IN WHICH YOUR BODY IS AND THE ACTION AND REACTION OF YOUR MIND, IS CONNECTED. THAT IS WHY I AM SITTING IN PADMASANA. *IF YOU SIT IN PADMASANA, WHETHER YOU ARE AN ENGINEER OR DOCTOR OR LAWYER, IF YOU PERFORM YOUR RESPONSIBILITIES, ACTIVITIES IN PADMASANA, YOU WILL HAVE THE LOWEST REACTIONARY ASSUMPTIONS, HIGHEST, AWAKENED, ALIVE, TURIYA AND TURIYATITA RESPONSE FOR LIFE CONTINUOUSLY. NOT ONLY WHEN YOU ARE ATTENDING TO SATSANG, EVEN WHEN YOU ARE ATTENDING TO OFFICE, TRY TO SIT AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE IN PADMASANA. MAKE YOURSELF FULLY AWAKE, ALIVE. *ONE GREAT THING IS, THE BEST POSSIBLE STATE OF CONSCIOUSNESS, MEANS THE FULLY CHARGED STATE OF YOU, CAN BE ACHIEVED WHEN YOU SIT IN PADMASANA. THAT IS WHY I INSIST: WHEN YOU ARE ATTENDING SATSANG, START SITTING IN PADMASANA. MAY I REQUEST ALL OF YOU TO SIT AS MUCH AS YOU CAN IN PADMASANA. IF YOU CHANGE THE POSTURE AFTER A BIT OF TIME, IT IS OK, BUT START! *ONLY IF YOU START PRACTISING, YOGA BRINGS RESULTS. POWERFUL COGNITIONS WILL MANIFEST AS POWERS ONLY WHEN YOU START LIVING THEM. WHETHER POSSIBILITY OR POWER, BOTH COME TO ONLY PEOPLE WHO LIVE AND MANIFEST IT. *PEOPLE WHO GO ON READING BOOKS BUT NEVER PRACTICE OR MANIFEST, BECOME DEVILS, DEMONS. EXTREME CUNNINGNESS DEVELOPS. THEY START POLITICKING MENTALITY TO MANIPULATE EVEN SPIRITUAL SCRIPTURES WITHOUT USING IT FOR THE RIGHT PURPOSE. ARMCHAIR EXPERTS. *EVEN IF YOU READ ABOUT THE BEAUTY AND GREATNESS OF WAKING UP IN BRAHMA MUHURTA AND DOING YOGA, PANCHAKRIYA AND PUJA, FOR 20 YEARS AND NEVER START PRACTICING, YOU WILL BECOME A DEMON; YOU WILL ONLY LEARN HOW TO MANIPULATE YOUR KNOWLEDGE. *IF YOU START PRACTICING EVEN ONE DAY, YOU WILL START UNDERSTANDING HOW IT FEELS. THROUGH THIS E-KAILASA, WE BRING EVERYTHING FROM KAILASA TO YOU WHEREVER YOU ARE! *FOR EXAMPLE, IF YOU ARE INSPIRED TO GET UP IN BRAHMA MUHURTA AND DO YOGA BUT YOUR LAZINESS IS MORE POWERFUL IN YOU THAN YOUR POWERFUL COGNITIONS OR INSPIRATION, THEN WE COME TO YOU TO GIVE PROPER, CUSTOMISED, SPIRITUAL SERVICE HELPING YOU TO COMPLETE WITH YOUR LAZINESS PATTERN. WE HAVE DETAILED UNDERSTANDING ABOUT WHY LAZINESS? WHY TIREDNESS? WHY BOREDOM? WHY YOU DON'T FEEL LIKE GETTING UP EARLY MORNING? I MYSELF RECEIVED THIS KNOWLEDGE FROM MY GURUS AND APPLIED IT IN MY LIFE AND EXPERIENCED IT AND NOW I AM WORKING WITH MILLIONS OF PEOPLE FROM ALL CULTURES. WE HAVE PERFECTED THE SCIENCE OF WORKING WITH PEOPLE FROM EVERY NATIONALITY, RELIGION, CULTURE. I STARTED TEACHING LAST 26 YEARS LITERALLY. *RECENTLY WE GOT SOME PHOTOGRAPHS OF MY GURU TEACHING SOME WESTERN DISCIPLES. THANKS TO THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY TEAM, GOING TO EACH HOUSE AND COLLECTING EACH PHOTOGRAPH! *EVERY STATEMENT I AM MAKING IS GETTING DOCUMENTED WITH LARGE AMOUNT OF EYEWITNESSES AND TESTIMONIALS. *LAST 26 YEARS, WE PERFECTED THE EXPERTISE OF TEACHING HUMAN BEINGS FORM ALL RELIGIONS, CULTURE, BACKGROUND, COLOUR, NATIONALITY, IN A CUSTOMISED WAY, HELPING THEM TO IDENTIFY THEIR PATTERNS, MAKING THEM UNDERSTAND WHY THEY START ENJOYING THEIR LAZINESS, WHY THEY WITHDRAW FROM LIFE, WHAT KIND OF DIET THEY NEED TO GET OUT OF LAZINESS, WHAT COGNITION THEY NEED TO GET OUT OF LAZINESS, HOW TO COMPLETE WITH THEIR SELF-DOUBT, SELF-HATRED, SELF-DENIAL. WE HAVE MASTERED THIS SCIENCE! *THIS KNOWLEDGE I HAVE ORGANISED AND MADE AVAILABLE IN YOUR BEDROOM WITHOUT YOU EVEN HAVING TO MOVE OUT OF YOUR COUCH, FREE OF COST. *WE CAN HELP YOU IN A CUSTOMIZED WAY. WE CAN MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND WHY YOUR BOREDOM IS STRONGER THAN YOUR INSPIRATION OR POWERFUL COGNITIONS. SOMETIMES THE PROBLEM IS AS SIMPLE AS TOO MUCH OF GAS IN THE STOMACH OR UNDIGESTED SHIT IN THE STOMACH. WHAT YOU NEED IS HARITAKI POWDER, NEEM JUICE, CASTOR OIL FOR 2-3 DAYS. THEN YOU ARE SAVED FROM DESTROYING 8-10 YEARS OF YOUR LIFE. WE CAN GET YOU AT LEAST 40 % EXTRA LIFE BACK TO YOU. *IF YOU ARE LIVING IN THE ACTIVE CONDITION PER WEEK 100 YEARS WE CAN MAKE ITEASILY 150 HOURS. I AM GIVING YOU A ROUGH NUMBER *IF YOU ARE LIVING IN THE ACTIVE CONDITION PER WEEK FOR 100 HOURS, WE CAN MAKE THAT EASILY INTO 150 HOURS. I AM GIVING A ROUGH NUMBER. *PER MONTH IF YOU ARE IN THE WAKING STATE FOR 100 HOURS, WE CAN RAISE IT EASILY INTO 150 HOURS, EVEN 200 HOURS. WE CAN MULTIPLY THE QUANTITY AND QUALITY OF YOUR LIFE. *WHEREVER YOU ARE, WE CAN HELP YOU THROUGH E-SERVICES; FIRST BY HELPING YOU TO IDENTIFY YOUR ROOT PATTERNS OF SUFFERING. WE WILL TEACH YOU WHY LIFE NEGATIVITY, WHY WITHDRAWAL FROM LIFE, WHY SELF-DOUBT, SELF-HATRED, SELF-DENIAL, WHY SO MUCH OF TIREDNESS, LAZINESS. *WE CAN SUPPORT YOU FROM ALIGNING YOUR DIET, ATTITUDE, APTITUDE, AND UNDERSTANDING OF LIFE. WE CAN HELP YOU WITH EVERYTHING. *KAILASA IS THE TOTALITY OF KNOWLEDGE I RECEIVED FROM MY GURUS AND WHAT I PRACTICED AND MANIFESTED IN MY LIFE, PERFECTED BY TEACHING IT TO MILLIONS OF PEOPLE FROM ALL CULTURES, TIME ZONES, BACKGROUNDS, GENDER, RACE, CREED. SO THIS ABSOLUTE PERFECTED KNOWLEDGE AVAILABLE TO YOU, SERVED TO YOU IN YOUR HOME, WITHOUT YOU MOVING OUT OF YOUR COUCH, FREE OF COST. TO GET A WAKE UP CALL IN YOUR HOTEL ROOM, YOU KNOW IT IS A SPECIAL SERVICE THEY PROVIDE. SO EVERY WAKE UP CALL COSTS IN HOTELS. *JUST BECAUSE KAILASA IS PROVIDING THIS SERVICE FEELY, DON'T TAKE IT FOR GRANTED. WE HELP YOU FIRST WITH LAZINESS, IF IT IS AT THE MENTAL LEVEL. IF IT IS PHYSICAL LEVEL, WE WILL HELP YOU TO DETOX YOUR BODY THROUGH HARITAKI, CASTOR OIL, NEEM JUICE, SPIRITUAL PRASADAM FROM PARAMASHIVA, AND GIVE YOU COMPLETE SPIRITUAL SUPPORT AND THEN, DURING MORNING BRAHMA MUHURTA, WE GIVE YOU A WAKE UP CALL. IF YOU MISS ONE OR TWO DAYS, IT IS OK; WE WILL SUPPORT YOU AGAIN. WE WILL ENCOURAGE YOU. STEP BY STEP, WE WILL MAKE YOU MOVE OUT OF YOUR COUCH, ALONG WITH YOUR COUCH TO KAILASA! FROM COUCH TO KAILASA IN THE SAME WAY THAT SUNDARAMOORTHY NAYANAR WENT TO KAILASA ON HIS WHITE ELEPHANT! *WHEN WE REMOVE ALL THE IRRITATION, ANGER, FEELING VIOLATED, TOXINS, FROM YOUR SYSTEM, ALL YOUR RELATIONSHIPS BECOME MATURED, GREAT. WE GET YOU HEALTH, ABILITY TO GET BEAUTIFUL RELATIONSHIPS IN YOUR LIFE, WE GET YOU DIRECT SPIRITUAL SUPPORT, AND WE MAKE SURE YOU BECOME WEALTHY. *E-KAILASA BRINGS EVERYTHING AND ONCE YOU START LIVING THE SPIRITUAL ROUTINE WE WILL MAKE SURE YOU MANIFEST POWERS OF PARAMASHIVA. WE WON'T STOP WITH JUST GOOD LIFE, WE WILL LITERALLY NOT STOP TILL YOU LIVE ENLIGHTENED LIFE, MANIFESTING THE STATE, SPACE, POWERS, BEING OF PARAMASHIVA. *I HAVE THE PHOTOGRAPHS OF MY GURU TEACHING HIS WESTERN DISCIPLES AND APPLYING AUSHADHA FOR THE PERSON HAVING A PARALYTIC ATTACK. YOU CAN SEE HE HIMSELF PERSONALLY APPLYING AUSHADHA. HE IS PERSONALLY TAKING CLASSES FOR DISCIPLES FROM AROUND THE WORLD. *THANKS TO THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY TEAM. THEY HAVE MORE PHOTOGRAPHS. I WILL BE SHARING WITH YOU ALL. I THINK THESE PHOTOGRAPHS WERE TAKEN IN 1990. FROM THAT TIME, WE HAVE PERFECTED THIS SCIENCE. NOW WE ARE BRINGING THIS SCIENCE TO YOUR HOME FREE OF COST! *ALL THESE YEARS THESE WERE KEPT SECRETLY INSIDE MONASTERIES AND TRANSMITTED FROM GURU TO DISCIPLE, GURU TO DISCIPLE. NOW I NOT ONLY PRACTICED IT IN MY LIFE, WE HAVE PERFECTED TEACHING TO MILLIONS OF PEOPLE - ENRICHING AND ENRICHING! *MAHA SUBHASHITA SANGRAHA VERSE NO.6571 & 6572 असज्जनः सज्जनसङ्गिसङ्गात्करोति दुःसाध्यमपीह साध्यम् । पुष्पाश्रयाच्छंभुशिरोऽधिरूढा पिपीलिका चुम्बति चन्द्रबिम्बम् ॥ ASAJJANAḤ SAJJANASAṄGISAṄGĀTKAROTI DUḤSĀDHYAMAPĪHA SĀDHYAM . PUṢPĀŚRAYĀCCHAṂBHUŚIRO'DHIRŪḌHĀ PIPĪLIKĀ CUMBATI CANDRABIMBAM .. TRANSLATION: LIKE HOW THE ANT WHICH JUST BY SITTING ON A FLOWER CLIMBS AND ADORNS THE HEAD OF PARAMASHIVA AND ALSO TOUCHES THE MOON ON PARAMASHIVA'S HEAD, EVEN A MALIGNOUS MAN, BY BEING IN THE COMPANY OF THE SATSANGA, MAKES EVEN THE IMPOSSIBLE AS POSSIBLE IN THIS WORLD. *THE POWER OF SATSANGA CAN RAISE YOU TO KAILASA DIRECTLY. WHATEVER KNOWLEDGE I RECEIVED FROM MY GURUS, PERFECTED IT BY LIVING AND MANIFESTING IT. AND PERFECTING THE SCIENCE OF TEACHING BY TEACHING IT TO MILLIONS OF PEOPLE FROM ALL COUNTRIES, RELIGION, GENDER, COLOUR. THIS WHOLE SCIENCE COMING CUSTOMISED TO YOU, FREE OF COST, IS E-KAILASA! WE WERE PROVIDING THIS SERVICE FOR MANY YEARS. NOW WE ARE EXPANDING IT TO 108 TIME ZONES IN AN ORGANIZED WAY. *REGISTER AT KAILASA.ORG/EPASSPORT *PLS SEND EMAIL TO E-KAILASA FOR E PASSPORT. WE PROVIDE E-PASSPORT WHICH IS FREE OF COST AND WE PROVIDE ALL THESE SERVICES: FREE LIBRARY, GURUKUL, COMPLETION SESSIONS, GUIDED MEDITATION PROCESS, VAKYARTHA SADAS. EVEN IF YOU SIGNED UP EARLIER, PLEASE SIGN UP NOW BECAUSE FROM TODAY, WE ARE ORGANIZING AND TEACHING THROUGH ZOOM. SO THE E-KAILASA SERVICES ARE STARTING FROM TODAY. *THE WHOLE WORLD SHOULD BECOME E-KAILASHIANS BECAUSE WE NEED TO CATER THIS ENLIGHTENMENT SCIENCE TO THE WHOLE WORLD WHEREVER THEY ARE! *IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN ENLIGHTENMENT, WE WILL IMMEDIATELY BRING THIS TO YOU. IF YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED, WE WILL EXPLAIN THE WHOLE SCIENCE, INSPIRE YOU AND MAKE YOU INTERESTED IN ENLIGHTENMENT SCIENCE! *TODAY WE ARE FORMALLY EXPANDING THIS SERVICE TO 108 PLACES IN ALL 24 TIME ZONES. THE NEXT ONE WEEK WE ARE DEDICATING TO ORGANISING OURSELVES AND EXPANDING. WITH THIS E-KAILASA SERVICE, WE ARE REACHING OUT TO THE WHOLE WORLD TO AT LEAST TWO MILLION PEOPLE. *EVERY HUMAN BEING SHOULD BE GIVEN THIS SCIENCE OF ENLIGHTENMENT. ENLIGHTENMENT IS THE BIRTHRIGHT OF ALL HUMAN BEINGS. KAILASA IS RESPONSIBLE TO PROVIDE THAT TO ALL HUMAN BEINGS. Read the full post here: https://www.facebook.com/138595819561610/posts/4159859497435202/

#Nithyananda #KAILASA

[hogwartsfirebolt]

So, it’s @magpiefngrl ‘s birthday. Or at least it was, but it’s still January 11 where I am, so it counts, right? I hope it does.

I haven’t been around for long, but ever since I joined the fandom, I’ve looked up to Magpie. I see her as such a beautiful presence who always has kind words for everyone, who has been brave enough to share her beautiful work, stories that have made my heart burst and my breath catch, every single time without fail. In my early days of fandom, I remember finding her fics and thinking wow, thinking, I want to know this person, thinking, someday, I want to be able to make someone feel the way she makes me feel with her words. She’s my favorite Drarry author, and when I found out it was her birthday, I just knew I couldn’t let it pass without doing something anything. I don’t have much, I can’t really do art, I’m not very good at edits, and to write something I would need to lease my soul to the devil for at least a couple of weeks, but I do have this: my love and admiration for her work and my wish to share it with as many people as possible. This is a rec list of my magpie_fngrl favorites. The banner picture is by Amy Judd, and it’s also Magpie’s “iconic” icon. In order of publication date:

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1. The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy - This story holds such a deep human understanding of Harry and Draco, the way Harry toes the line between adult lawfulness and youthful law-breaking, the way Draco opens up slowly and closes up at once when he feels the need to defend himself, their shared vulnerabilities, their passion, their shenanigans, the pure fun they have together discovering the muggle world. I smiled so much when I read this, and when they encounter hardship, it felt real, it felt like life does, with its ups and downs. The way it handled media and press as a double-edged sword, sexy!Neville, Narcissa’s capitalized words, Cosmopolitan, coke and cartoons, the shop owners, “I’m yours”, everywhere you look this fic is a treasure. 

2. The Unquiet Grave - I will start by saying I have never read a fic quite like this one. Throughout the story I felt some type of way, the atmosphere is so masterfully crafted that it settled over my skin, and I could sense that there was something looming in the horizon, and that it could come at any moment. The plot comes together amazingly, and everything builds up and up, until you’re eighteen thousand words in and the story escales to a crescendo, and you’re breathless with it, and then it comes to a perfect end that ties everything together, every little detail, every feeling it elicited. When I close my eyes and remember it, I can experience it again. Truly wonderful. 

3. The Prize - Anyone who knows me knows that I’m weak for pirate stories, especially those involving a romance between a pirate and an aristocrat, and this is absolutely delicious. Draco’s smart mouth is hilarious, and I do love Harry in a position of power falling for this witty prince. 

4. Kettle - This is one of the best kink negotiation fics I’ve ever read, it’s not only really sexy, but it also shows how committed to each other they are, their love shines through in every interaction, and that may sound strange considering the topic, but it truly is wonderful and really, really well done.

5. The Spider’s Silk - I used to think I didn’t like Drarry AU stories if they were truly wildly different from the HP verse, but dear god did Magpie prove me wrong with this one. This is a fantasy AU, Harry and Draco are fae, and still it is incredibly in character. I love the way elements of canon are worked here and there to shape this world, and the sheer creativeness of the physical characteristics of each court blew my mind. I’m not sure if it was intentional or not, but the fairytale feel of the whole deed with the spider was an amazing touch. 

6. my heart’s a tart, your body’s rent - The drarry dynamic in this one is perfect. Not being able to stand each other, yet being so into each other that it physically hurts is reminiscent of the schoolboy rivalry that sparked my love for the pairing in the first place. Harry’s friendship with the girls is also fantastic, and I can’t even tell you about gender-non-conforming Draco. Wonderful.

7. Tangiers - Despite having featured many of them on this list, this is actually my favorite out of all 13 AUs in the little series, because it is absolutely everything I love in a story put together, adventure, a little bit of mystery, heartache and a romance so intense it overcomes all obstacles. Drarry as archeologists? Yes. A centuries old cursed object? Yes. Falling in love in university? Yes. Different ideals but they love each other so much it doesn’t even matter? Yes. GETTING BACK TOGETHER? ALSO YES I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!! AND NOW THERE’S A LITTLE PREQUEL!!! 

8. Sometimes a man needs - How wonderful is it that a post-war story doubles as a flower shop AU? The shop was a beautiful setting, it painted everything in a warm, golden light in my heart, and the feeling it gave me as they grew closer together was delightful. I love the little details we get of Astoria, and what Harry thinks of them, the lady trying to set Harry up, Ron looking right through Harry when it comes to Draco, and I cannot put to words the things Draco wearing a suit does to me.

9. Finding The Words - 343 words. That’s the length of this fic. 343 words of beautiful, so beautiful it aches. Imagery that painted my soul green and such a tremendous amount of feelings packed so neatly that it knocked the breath right off my lungs and swept me off my feet. I will tell you a little something, the reason I love Magpie’s writing so much is the attention she gives to detail, how she almost off-handedly mentions little nothings that mean everything, that construct a backstory loud and clear, and it feels like coming to an understanding with her, like sharing a secret, in that she can say so much without needing to actually say it, and it ends up feeling like you’ve lived in the story forever. That exact feeling comes across in this one, stronger than ever.  

10. Young and beautiful - God, I love how they come together in this one. Both in pain, with their secrets and demons, and moving forward together, finding something beautiful in the midst of all that sorrow and chaos, reconstructing themselves to feel like they can be together. It’s so, so beautiful, this story carved itself a place in my chest and took residence there. And the ending... Everything is beautiful, and I love imagining what happened after, it makes my heart soar. 

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There (I WISH I COULD GUSH ABOUT IT AGAIN, I love this story so much and so, so deeply for everything that it is, but I already talked about it in my favorites of 2018 rec list) and The Full Monty (Draco’s personality and the banter and Harry’s physique and Arthur and the hot, hot sex and lust leaks and THE CHOSEN DUNG. Nuff said) 

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Happy birthday, Magpie ❤️ I hope it was a good one, and I hope this year that unfolds ahead of us is kind to you, full of love and creativity, words, ideas, goals, flowers, your favorite kind of wine or non-alcoholic drink and a million moments of such pure happiness that your heart doesn’t fit inside your chest. Thank you for your words, thank you for allowing us all to feel with what you write, and for being brave enough to keep putting so much of your heart out into the world. 

#magpie #drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry fic recs #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry rec list #ficrec